#Hopefully the writing isn’t that bad

[princesskkfish]

TADAAA UPDATED AMI REF

I’ve changed her character quite a lot since the first iteration I drew so I felt I’d update it!

The grand majority of her story is basically the same but I actually have more stuff figured out for her now and stuff that makes sense!

I’m not gonna go to in depth about her background but I’ll give a quick rundown under the cut :P

So Ami is a muntant, how she was mutated? Well back at the beginning of season 1 when the oozquitos got out Ami had been passing through New York looking for a job to hire a 13 y/o when she get bit and long story short during the confusion she is discovered by one of big mamas henchmen and forced to fight for her life in the battle nexus. Then when the krang invasion happens the cave roof of the hidden city breaks and cracks causing mass destruction and chaos to the city, Ami was in the middle of a battle when this happened and used the chaos to escape from the Nexus and then wanders the streets aimlessly

After a few weeks of living in ally’s and practically eating garbage she wanders to husos restaurant and is in the middle of scarfing down many pizzas when a few certain turtles walk into the kitchen

And Mikey being the caring little guy he is sees Ami in need of help and invites her back to the lair where they can help her

And boom there’s a bit of her backstory

Sry it’s a bit rough I’m not very good at writing out my ideas 😅

Hope yall liked it

i wanted to make her story more believable and fit in better with rise and what I had her backstory as

Shes got Italian background and yes she does show Mikey some Italian recipes when she warms up to the boiiiss

and she was born in 2005 so she’s like a year younger then Donnie and Leo

she got mutated at 13 and over the course of the show and movie was about 3-4ish years, and that whole time she was fighting in the nexus so she’s got a few battle scars and permanent ptsd and injuries from that, poor girl

but she’s good now she got outta there and everything will be fine

Oh and also she’s not Venus nor a interpretation of Venus she’s her own character I made up before I even knew that Venus existed so uh yeah

[automaticllamacycle]

I’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)

Summary: You don't have much experience. Matty, however, does. A coffee shop AU.

Part one of two

Content: 18+, fingering, praise kink, hand jobs, first time, smut with plot

Word count: 11,059

It's not like you wanted to be a virgin in your mid-twenties. That was definitely not the goal. However, years went by, and no boyfriend was in sight. That is, until Matty entered the picture.

You met him at a coffee shop, the one you worked at. He caught your eye the moment he walked in during one of your shifts. It was cold and dreary, a typical December day in London, but you could still spot chocolate curls sticking out of a worn beanie. Wrapped in a thick knit sweater layered under a jacket, he placed his order.

"Hello, can I get a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk?"

His thick Manchester accent piqued your curiosity, and so did his warm brown eyes. You tried not to stumble over your next words, sticking to your usual script.

"You got it. Can I get a name for the order?"

"Matty." He responded.

From then on, you saw him often. There wasn't a week that went by that you didn't see Matty at least once. Every time was the same. He would walk in with his gorgeous curls and pretty face and order the exact same thing, a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk. His order became like second nature to you. When he walked in, almost a month after the first encounter, you were quick to speak.

"Still a medium dark roast with a splash of soy milk?" you asked, probably a little more nervous than you should have been. He had that effect on you every time he stepped through the doors. One glance with those brown eyes was all it took to make you shy.

"Oh, yeah that's it, thank you," he responded, with a quick smile. A smile you hadn't seen yet. A very cute smile.

Once you finished making the coffee, you called out the order, and he walked to the counter.

"Here's that coffee for you, Matty."

You'd thought that would be the end of the conversation, and he would walk right back out with a "thanks" like he always did. However, this time, he had something else to say.

"Thanks. You know, you already know my name, but I still don't know yours. That's bad manners on my part," he added with a chuckle.

A little caught off guard, you breathed out your name, sounding less than confident. It had been so long since someone took away your breath like that, and he seemed to be doing it every time he spoke.

"That's a lovely name. I'll see you around." he said with that same grin, and then strolled off with his coffee before you had the chance to say anything else.

—

It's fair enough to say after the most recent exchange, he took up way too many of your thoughts. You tried to convince yourself it was just a work crush, a normal work crush. He was a super cute so that's only a normal response, right? It's not like you would try to get anywhere else with him, anyway. Probably wouldn't work out even if you did try.

Well, the crush became ten times worse on open mic night at the coffee shop. Your coworker, Penny, begged you to switch shifts with her, some kind of emergency, so there you were. Typically, open mic nights were filled with out of tune guitars, pitchy voices, and slam poetry. Everyone at the shop avoided working on open mic nights.

Now, what you didn't expect was for Matty to walk in the doors with a guitar case in hand. His hair was more styled than usual. His normal curls were a bit frizzy and all over the place, but tonight his curls were well defined. He had on a knit patterned sweater, which was typical for him, and a black pair of trousers accompanied by black combat boots.

Oh God, this is about to be either really good or really bad for the state of my crush on this man, you thought to yourself. Nothing better than a man with curly brown hair that could sing and play the guitar.

He didn't approach the counter this time. Instead, deciding to sit at one of the tables and listen to the other acts. You watched him for a moment, but then went back to work. Before you could hear what Matty prepared for open mic night, you had to endure the other performers.

You weren't one to judge others for their creative expression, but they were so horrid. There were some decent ones in the bunch, thankfully. One guy played a cover song on piano, and it wasn't half bad. Most of the night was filled with a cappella covers and shallow slam poetry, though.

The moment you were eagerly waiting for finally arrived, and Matty grabbed his guitar case and took the stage. Waiting for it to be his turn was the longest hour of your life. He sat the case down on the small stage set up and opened it up. He fumbled with the guitar a bit while he sat down on the stool in front of the microphone. Nerves flashed through his eyes. They were evident by his hands slightly shaking as he adjusted the microphone closer to his lips. You were the only one watching his hands close enough to notice, anyway.

"Hello, I'm Matty," he spoke into the microphone, voice confident and smooth despite the nerves. "I'm a part of a band called The 1975, and I will be singing one of our songs called ‘Chocolate’.”

When he started to sing, what struck you first was the heaviness of his accent on the words he spoke. Even for a Manchester accent, it was thick on every syllable he sang, close to unintelligible at times. What struck you next was the fact that he was genuinely a great singer. His vocals and guitar skills were far too good for him to be playing in a random coffee shop among the mediocre slam poets and cover artists. Yep, this was only going to make your work crush worse.

Your eyes locked with his brown ones multiple times while he sang. With his eyes shining in the lights, a smile stretched across his face, and you returned it. He completely captured your attention for the entire duration of the song without trying. It was like you couldn't look away, even if you wanted to. When he finished singing, his performance elicited far more applause than open mic acts usually do. It wasn't typical for someone with serious talent to play at open mic, and the coffee shop patrons could spot the talent, too. Tearing your eyes from him, you went back to work. You didn't expect him to approach you at the counter after putting his guitar back into its case and leaving the stage, but Matty seemed to be surprising you a lot these days.

"Hey there," you said, beating him to the conversation, just as he reached the counter. "Your song was great. It's not every day that someone actually good plays here. I had no idea you were in a band."

"You can say it was shit, I won't be offended. I'm terrible at guitar," he states, rather bluntly. "But yeah, I've been in a band with a few of my mates for quite a few years now."

"Oh, if it was shit I would be sure to let you know," you added with a laugh. "Seriously, it was good. Now, can I get your usual started for you?"

"Actually no, not this time. I think it's a bit too late for me to be drinking coffee or I'll be too wired to sleep."

He had a point; it was around nine at this point. The shop would be closing within the hour. You continued, even though talking is not a strong suit of yours.

"So then, what can I do for you, Matty?"

"Since you asked, I do have a question for you," he responded promptly like he had been waiting for the moment to ask.

You quipped back, "And what might that be?" He seemed jittery, almost like how he was on the stage.

"I was wondering if I could get your number and take you out sometime. Maybe meet for coffee right here if you'd like?" His hands fidgeted on the counter as he asked.

Oh, he's asking you out, act natural, you thought to yourself. While it was common for customers to try and get your number, the interest was never reciprocated on your end. This time, the interest was definitely mutual.

"Yeah sure, that sounds like a lovely idea," you responded with a grin, reading off your number to him while he put it in his phone.

"I'll be texting you," he says while putting his phone back into the pocket of his pants. "See you soon."

Once again, he walked away, guitar case in hand. However, this time, the smile on his face was a little bigger than before, and so was the smile on yours.

—

After cleaning all the equipment and making sure everything was in order for the morning shift, you closed up the shop for the night. You resisted the urge to check your phone every single moment on the walk back to your apartment. The walk was already a short one, but the pep in your step made it even faster. When you walked through the door of your apartment, your dog Socks ran up to greet you. After you got her food bowl and fed her, it wasn't long before a text from an unmarked number buzzed on your phone.

Hey, it's Matty. You free anytime this week to meet for coffee?

You weighed the options of waiting a few minutes to not seem too eager or responding immediately, and the latter option won by a long shot.

Yeah I'm free Wednesday around 11:00 if that works for you?

He responded pretty quickly, too. Good to know it wasn't just you being eager.

That works well for me! I'll see you then :)

You responded once more.

See you then :))

You put down your phone on the coffee table with a huge grin across your face. You went ahead and finished your nighttime routine, washing your face and brushing your teeth. When you laid your head down on the pillow you couldn't get your mind off of Matty. The thought of his voice, his face, his mouth, and his hands slowly drifted you off to sleep.

—

The days went by entirely too fast and entirely too slow all at the same time. Before you knew it, it was Tuesday night. By 10:00pm, you had already ransacked your closet for something to wear, pulling out every article of clothing you owned. The pre-date anxiety wasn't helping you make up your mind. When 1:00am rolled around, you finally settled on an outfit, your favorite pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater. Way too simple of an outfit for how long it took to pick out, but oh well. Finally, you crawled into bed, glaring at the clock on your nightstand. The numbers mocked your decision of staying up so late. You had an early shift tomorrow that would end a few minutes before the time you were meeting Matty. You had rationalized this choice in the moment before texting him. It would be better for you to already be there, and would probably lessen your anxiety, if only a little bit.

The alarm clock rang, and you hated everything. Still, you got up, put on your outfit, and finished getting ready. You kept the makeup light and styled your hair to the best of your ability. There was only so much that could be done at five in the morning. You fed Socks and gave her a pet before heading out. Once you walked out the door, the nerves weighed heavy on your chest, but you couldn't back out now.

Reaching the coffee shop, you put on a sarcastic cheery voice and greeted your two coworkers, Penny and Grady.

"Good morning, guys! Isn't it just beautiful to be up before the sun?" They groaned in unison. Tough crowd. "Well, I have something very important to tell you two. I have a date today."

"Oh my God, I never thought this day would come," Penny gasped, only half joking.

"Hey! Don't be rude! It's not like you've had much luck in the boy department either."

"Okay, stop bickering. Now, who's the man in question?" asked Grady.

"So, you know that guy with the curly hair that comes in at least twice a week?"

"Yes, we know, it's not like you've gawked at him for the past two months or anything," said Penny.

"He asked for my number at open mic night. Thanks for asking to switch shifts with me by the way, Penny. Can't thank you enough," you teased.

"Glad my car wreck could be of some assistance?"

You went through the motions of opening up the shop with Penny and Grady, and the place filled with customers all too soon. The hour was ticking closer and closer to when Matty would walk through the doors. You tried to calm your nerves, but the attempts were no good. When the clock read 10:50, you decided to go ahead and start his usual, ringing it up under your discount. You started on your coffee as well. Caffeine was a necessity.

The door to the shop opened, just a minute before 11:00, and you looked up to meet Matty's eyes. It had been two months since you first saw him, but his gorgeous eyes still left you dazed. Putting on a brave face, you decided to speak first.

"Hey," you began with smile on your face. "I went ahead and made your coffee," you said while handing him the cup.

"Don't I need to pay for this?" A confused look marked his face.

"Nah, I went ahead and put my discount on it." You walked out from behind the counter with your own coffee in hand towards him.

"Well, there goes my plan to pay for your coffee like a true gentleman." He said, heading towards an open table. He chose a booth beside the shop window. You sat opposite from him.

"I couldn't possibly let my discount go to waste," you insisted. "I get one coffee free per shift and everything else has a big discount. Truly, it's no trouble."

You looked at him while waiting for whatever he had to say next. He looked good, smelled good too. Has he always smelled this good? Since you were always separated by a counter from him, you hadn't been properly close enough to tell until just now. You quickly told your brain to shut up before you say something stupid. He spoke first.

"Okay, I'm going to start this off with my favorite ice breaker question. What's your favorite song?"

"That is a horrible ice breaker question. You couldn't come up with anything better? Something deeper, perhaps?"

"I'm a musician, of course I would ask a question like that. I think a person's favorite song can reveal a lot about oneself."

"I don't think I can choose just one," you continued by listing a few of your favorites. Definitely not a solid list. "So, what's yours, then?"

"Probably one I've written," he replies with a smirk.

"I feel like that's cheating, but I'll allow it. How did you get into music anyway? From what I heard before at the open mic, you're pretty good."

"My band mates are really good, I'm just average. Trust me, when I play with them it's obvious how shitty I am, especially next to my mate, Adam. He's legendary at guitar. To answer your question though, when I was younger, I always wanted to be a pop star. I was a huge fan of Michael Jackson. I started to learn a few instruments and then by the time I was in secondary school, my friends and I decided to form a band. I ended up as the singer somehow along the way."

"I should go see a gig soon, got any coming up?"

"Yeah, I think that could be arranged."

The small talk between you two continued and wasn’t painful like most small talk. You found yourself more enchanted by Matty the more he spoke. Everything he said, while usually laced with humor, was well thought out. It was clear he was a deep thinker, but any songwriter typically has to be one. You've realized in the time sitting across from him in the booth that you could sit and listen to him talk all day long. When you got around to looking at the watch on your wrist, you realized it had been over an hour and half since you two had sat down in the booth. As much as you hate it, you really need to get home and be productive with your day.

"I've had a great time talking with you Matty, but I think it's time for me to head out. I have a huge pile of laundry and a chore list that unfortunately will not do itself."

"Can I walk you home?"

"Isn't that a line you're supposed to pull out when it's dark to make sure I get home safe or something like that?"

"Oh, come on, you already bought my coffee. Let me be a gentleman for just a moment here."

"Okay fine, if you insist." The both of you stood up from the booth and he held the door for you on the way out of the shop. Penny threw you a wink while Grady gave a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You hoped he somehow didn't see them, but there was no way he couldn't have.

Matty kept you entertained on the short walk back to your apartment, telling you a funny story about his friend George. You found yourself laughing right along with him while he retold the story. You were thankful he did the heavy lifting during the conversation. It made it much easier on your part.

"Alright, this one's mine," you said, pointing to your building. "I do appreciate you walking me back, by the way, jokes aside."

"I was enjoying your company and wanted to make it last longer, what can I say?"

"It was very kind, thank you."

He kept looking at you, like he was deep in thought again. His gaze made you feel exposed. Originally, his eyes peered directly into yours, but they slowly shifted down to your mouth. As he stepped towards you, the air instantly grew thick. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

"You're not one of those girls that gets offended by getting kissed on the first date, right?" he spoke, almost in a whisper. Eyes still locked in on your lips, not looking up from them for one second. His face got closer and closer to yours.

"No, I'm not." His lips nearly brushed against your lips. The gravity becoming too much. Your eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth.

"Good."

With that his lips met yours. Soft. Gentle. One of his hands carefully pressed into your lower back, bringing you deeper into the kiss. The other hand rested on the side of your face. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you placed them at his shoulders. He pulled away for a brief second, before leaning down once more to leave another quick kiss.

When he finally pulled away, for good this time, he had one last thing to say.

"I'll be seeing you," he said, giving you a wave and that same smile you had grown to adore before walking away.

You sat on the steps outside of your apartment for at least five minutes after the kiss. When you found it in you, you finally walked in the door and ran up the stairs to your apartment.

It's safe to say this was more than a work crush.

—

You walked in to work the next day with a beaming look on your face. Penny noticed immediately.

"Okay tell me everything from start to finish. Don't you dare leave anything out."

She didn't have to force it out of you. You were dying to tell anyone about your date at this point, so you went through every detail, including the kiss.

"Girl, he is so into you," Penny replied.

"Well, I would hope a kiss would mean he's into me. I personally don't kiss people I hate."

Work was slow that day. Not too many customers. Matty didn't walk in that day, which was probably a good thing for your sanity. He did however make his appearance once again, two days later. He walked through the doors in his usual attire, a sweater and a pair of jeans. His eyes lit up, just a little bit, when he saw you.

"Your usual, I assume?"

"Yeah, of course." A soft smile lighting up his face.

Instead of walking away from the counter like he usually did, this time he stayed right by it as you started making his coffee.

"Do you have any plans tomorrow night?"

"I think my schedule is open. You have a suggestion for me to fill it?" you said, a smirk on your face.

"My band has a gig tomorrow night; thought you'd might like to come and see it."

"Oh yeah absolutely! Give me the time and place and I'll be there." He pulled out his phone and texted you the details. It was at a small venue in downtown London.

"I won't be able to see you before the show starts but go up to security after it's over and tell them your name. They'll let you backstage."

You finished up his drink just as he finished his sentence. "Here's your coffee, Matty." You handed him the coffee. His hand brushed with yours, lingering longer than normal. Definitely on purpose. He was looking at your lips again. "I'm looking forward to seeing the show."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing you after the show." He winked and walked out the doors.

As soon as he was out of sight, Penny appeared right behind your shoulder.

"You have got to look hot for that tomorrow. I'm coming over after work to help you with your outfit."

"Where did you spawn from?"

"Oh, I was just in the back listening like any good friend would, of course!"

"I don't know if you listening is a comforting thought or a concerning one." A laugh making its way through your voice.

"Well, be thankful, because I am going to ensure you look hot."

Penny stuck to her word and walked home with you once both of your shifts ended. Right when she walked through the door of your apartment she went to the closet, completely ignoring Socks’ cries for attention.

"I think we have some things to work with here." Her hands full of clothes. She had you try on her first idea, a mini skirt with a button up blouse. Her reaction was immediate. "I mean you always look hot, but this outfit just isn't doing it for me." This went on for quite a bit.

"Penny, can you make up your damn mind before I lose my own?"

"Okay, okay, last thing. Try on this." She hands you a dress that had been laying in the back of your closet for who knows how long. It was black and had a collar alongside a V-neckline. The skirt of the dress landed at mid-thigh. Once you stepped out to show her, she nearly yelled. "Yes! That's perfect! Now time to put the other pieces together." From the large selection of shoes in your arsenal, she landed on a black pair of chunky Mary Jane style shoes.

"Is it to your liking now?" you asked.

"How about you wear these?" She held out a pair of fishnet tights.

"Penny. Absolutely not!"

"You'll look so good though, but fine, I'll accept defeat," she frowned. "Wear these instead." She handed you a pair of sheer black tights. Those you could manage with. She finished the look by gathering a few accessories. Picking out a couple of necklaces and rings. "The look is complete," she said, giving a quick bow.

"I actually really like it. You have good taste." You gave her a hug and thanked her. The two of you walked towards the door. She began to walk out before she stopped to say something.

"By the way, wear some cute underwear underneath that dress, you never know what could happen."

"PENNY! Go. Out the door, now. Bye!" You refused to let your mind go there, yet.

—

You woke up the next morning already antsy about the show that night. You tried to not think about it, but you couldn't get your mind off of it. When it was acceptable to start getting ready, you began with your makeup. Normally you went light with it, but today you decided to focus on your eyes. With a light hand you went in with a dark purple eye shadow, and then blended it out with medium tones. Next came the eyeliner, the scariest part. Keeping your hand steady as possible you drew a small wing onto both eyes. After more attempts than you care to admit, they were even. You finished the rest of the make up and went to put on the outfit.

You walked out the door and headed to the nearest train station. The venue wasn't too far, but it was far enough that you did not want to walk it, especially not in those shoes. When you made it to the venue, there was decent line to get into the place. You wouldn't have guessed the band was this popular from the way Matty talked about it. It seemed like it was nearly going to be a full house. Since Matty put your name on the guest list, you didn't have to have a ticket, very convenient.

After you were in the building, it wasn't very long before the show started. However, there was enough time for you to make it to the bar and get a drink. You'd hoped the liquid courage would come in handy later. The place was indeed packed. Since it was standing room only, you decided to stand more towards the back.

The set was fantastic. You could tell Matty was much more comfortable preforming with the band than he was by himself. Totally different stage presence compared to when he sang at the coffee shop, particularly when they played the same song "Chocolate". If there were nerves in Matty this time around, you couldn't tell. The bottle of wine in his hand while he sang likely played a role in that, though.

Once the show was over, people slowly filed out of the room, and you waited until you could make your way up to the security guard at the front. The security guard walked you backstage when you told him your name. Matty was right there when you made it backstage, engulfing you in a hug. He was sweaty and shirtless at this point, but you didn't mind. Not one bit. This was the first time you were able to see all his tattoos. He didn't seem like the type of guy to have a chest piece, but you stood corrected.

"I didn't see you out there, thought you bailed on me for a second." He joked, breaking the hug. "I'm so glad you were able to make it."

"I would have at least texted you if I wasn't able to make it. I was just in the back because I didn't feel like fighting the crowd to get closer. Speaking of which, when were you going to tell me your band was so popular?"

"I don’t think we’re that popular. People just show up when we have a gig. I don't get recognized in public that often."

"I think that's called being popular, Matty. Next time, I'll show up earlier so I can get a closer view. The set was great by the way. I'm going to have to look up the band when I get home."

"Want to meet my band mates?"

"Yeah, of course!"

His hand met your lower back as he walked you to the green room. He introduced you to his friends, Ross, George, and Adam. They teased Matty just a bit for bringing a girl to a concert. You felt your cheeks flush, and not from the alcohol from earlier. You didn't stay and talk for a long time since it was getting so late, so you said bye before following Matty out of the green room. He decided to put on a shirt by now, much to your disappointment. Once you exited the venue, Matty spoke.

"Think I could walk you home again?"

"Well, I took the train this time, I don't want you to have to go in an opposite direction just to walk me home. I'll be fine."

"I don't live too far from you, actually. About a ten-minute walk. We would probably end up taking the same train anyway."

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"Sorry darling, but no."

"Let's start walking then."

The walk to the train station and the train ride to your apartment was filled with laughter. You were both slightly tipsy. You from the drinks at the bar, and him from the bottle of wine he kept on stage.

"So, now that you've seen the amazing Adam Hann at guitar, I think it's safe to say I am shit at guitar." Matty said, stepping off the train. You both made your way up the stairs of the station and walked towards your apartment.

"I mean he's better than you, yeah, but that doesn't mean you're shit at it. You should see me try to play sometime. It's fucking hilarious."

"I could teach you some chords. How to play ��Wonderwall’ or something like that."

"Oh God, not ‘Wonderwall’. Anything other than that, please." He lets out a strong laugh at your comment, but you weren't wrong. ‘Wonderwall’ was so overdone.

"Alright, I'll teach you something else then. Anything you want."

You two approached the steps of your apartment, but you didn't want the night to end just yet. So, you had to think fast. "Want to come inside and meet my dog?"

"You have a dog? I love dogs. You should have told me sooner." He followed you through the doorway of the complex and up the stairs to your apartment. As soon as you opened the door, Socks ran to see you. When she saw Matty though, she was a bit confused.

"Her name is Socks by the way," you told him.

"Oh my God, what a cute name." Matty got down on his knees, held his hand out to the dog, and soon enough she warmed right up to him. You left the pair where they were and walked past them, going for Socks’ food bowl.

"Sorry to interrupt, Matty, but I have to feed her. It was too early for her to eat when I left for the concert."

"That's alright," he said, making his way over to sit on the couch. You were thankful you cleaned the place up before you left. You wanted to join him on the couch, but you had to change clothes first. Your feet were killing you and you hated the tights.

"Here's the remote for the television. Put it on whatever you want. I desperately need to change clothes. I'll be right back."

You went into your bedroom and shut the door, not noticing his eyes following you the entire way there. You changed fast, not wanting to be rude. From your dresser, you grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Next you stepped into the bathroom adjoined to your room and washed off your makeup. When you walked back in the living room, you saw that Matty put New Girl on the television. Good choice. You took the seat next to him, leaving a bit of room in between.

You sat there and he sat there. Both absorbed by the awkward silence while the TV show played. Socks ate her food in the corner, the only sound other than the show. Matty quietly cleared his throat. Seemed like you were going to have to do the heavy lifting here.

"So..." You began, breaking the silence. "What kind of ideas do you have planned for our next date? Unless you want me to come up with something." His eyes left the television and turned to you. God, you wished his eyes didn't have such an effect on you, and the alcohol from earlier wasn't helping.

"I have plenty of ideas, just going to depend on if you want to do them," he said, a questionable look on his face. It was obvious he still had some alcohol in his system, too.

"Oh? Like what? That sounds a bit mysterious by itself."

"Well, I thought I could invite you over to my place next Saturday and cook something for you. Be all romantic and shit." The look on his face was kind and sincere. Either the alcohol made him have his guard down, or he was just comfortable with you. You couldn't tell which one for sure.

"That sounds like a good idea. I will judge your cooking skills harshly, though."

"I would have expected no less from you," he said with a small laugh. His cheeks were turning pink.

You felt the conversation begin to lull again, so you spoke. A cheeky idea in mind. "Any other plans besides cooking for me?"

"To be honest, I did not think that far ahead."

"I have an idea," you said without hesitation.

"What might that be?" His eyebrows raised and his body turned to you, awaiting your answer.

"Maybe we could do something like we're doing now?"

"Sitting on the couch while watching New Girl, struggling to make conversation?"

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of this." By the end of your sentence, you leaned in and connected your lips to his. Matty was caught off guard. You hadn't been so forward with him yet, but he was quick to kiss back. You broke away first. The both of you breathing heavy. "Sorry, probably should have asked you before I did that."

"No need to say sorry. I don't give a fuck," he replied, placing his hand on the back of your neck to pull you back in. The kiss was heated this time. His hand that was at the back of your neck went up into your hair. His other hand made its way to cup the side of your face, bringing you in closer. Both of your hands threaded through his hair. You've wanted to run your fingers through his curls since the moment you saw him.

His lips were warm and soft as they moved against yours. In an instant, his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth in response. His movements were slow as his tongue explored your mouth. As smooth as you tried to be, you trembled with nerves. You felt like you were going to explode. Matty broke away for a moment. His eyes bore into yours. Pupils wide and dilated.

"Are you alright, love? You're shaking like a leaf," he breathed. His thumb rubbing gently on your cheek.

You looked into his eyes for a moment before the eye contact became too much to bear, eyes shifting back to his wet lips. "Yeah, I'm fine." The warble in your voice didn't agree with the words you said, but you pulled him right back into the kiss. Without missing a beat, Matty continued to kiss you, becoming more eager. He moved his hands from your hair and face and relocated them to your waist. In one swift movement, he dragged you from the place next to him until you were sitting on his lap. Your knees were on either side of his hips. His hands, still on your waist, pulled you flush to his body. You tried to keep up with the movements of his lips and tongue, but your inexperience was showing. The movements of his mouth were skillful against yours. It was like he already knew all the places that would make you melt.

You were falling for him. Fast. His hands slipped under your shirt, grasping onto the skin of your hips and waist. He began to push your hips down into his, ever so slightly. You reciprocated the movement on your own, grinding your hips into his. He let out a small groan into your lips at the feeling of your movements. Part of you wanted to hear that sound again, but part of you knew this was about to go too far really quick without telling him what you knew you needed to. Somehow, the voice of reason in your head won, and you pressed lightly on his chest to break the kiss. His eyes stared into yours again, pupils wider than before. His lips red and swollen from the pressure of the kisses, chest rising underneath your hands like he couldn't catch his breath. Beneath the look of arousal on his face, he seemed worried.

"Did I do something wrong?" he breathed out, shifting his hips slightly. You could feel him under you. You were out of breath too. You really had no idea how to put it lightly, so you just said it.

"I'm a virgin." You didn't know how he was going to take that message. Men typically either didn't react well, or they thought you were something to corrupt.

"Oh." There wasn't any judgement in his voice, just a hint of surprise. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention." He gently went to move you off him, back to where you were sitting at first. He tried to subtly adjust his pants, but it wasn't all that subtle.

"No, no, you didn't make me uncomfortable at all. I promise," you assured him, hands cupping his cheeks. The worry on his face eased a bit. "I just thought I should tell you before anything went further."

"Thank you for telling me." The smile on his face returned. Thank God you, thought to yourself.

"We can keep going, if you want to?" The anxiety was right back in your voice, your moment of confidence gone.

"As much as I truly would like to..." His eyes lingered on your lips before looking you up and down. "I can't keep going knowing that you’re even a little bit tipsy. I want to make the moment special for you, really." You were more relieved than disappointed. You didn't put on cute underwear out of spite to Penny's comment yesterday, and that decision came back to bite you in the ass.

Socks had perfect timing, saving you from another moment of awkwardness by jumping onto the couch. You and Matty finished that episode of New Girl while Socks sat between you, enjoying the pets from Matty. When the episode ended, Matty had to go. It was one in the morning at this point. You got up and walked him to the door. Before he left, he grabbed your waist gently, and pulled you in for a soft goodbye kiss.

"Next Saturday at 6:00pm we are having that date at my place. I'll text you the address." With one last kiss and a smile, he walked out the door.

—

"YOU WHAT?"

"Penny, oh my God, shut up. We are at work."

"How did you expect me to react to you coming in here and telling me you and Matty dry humped on your couch last night?"

"PENNY."

"Am I wrong? Is that not exactly what you said?"

"I didn't say it like that."

"That's what I heard."

"It seems like you have selective hearing."

"I swear to God, if you don't wear cute underwear this time."

"I am not talking to you about my underwear at work, Penny."

"I'm just saying. Oh! Don't forget condoms!"

"SHUT UP!"

—

The week leading up to the next date was uneventful. Matty came in mid-week like normal. You didn't even ask if he wanted his usual and started his coffee right when he walked in the door.

"Not going to make sure my order hasn't changed? What if I've become an oat milk guy since I came in last?" He walked up to the counter with a grin on his face.

"You can't go changing up on me now, Matty."

"I would never," he laughed. "So, are we still on for Saturday?"

"Yeah, of course. What are you planning on cooking, by the way?"

"That's going to stay a surprise."

"Is that another way of saying you have no clue?" You handed him the coffee cup. His hand grazed yours.

"I'm not going to answer that."

"You still haven't given me your address."

"Oh shit, sorry," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "There. Now you’ve got it," he said with a smile on his face.

"I'm looking forward to it. Just don't give me food poisoning."

"I'll try my best."

—

Saturday rolled around fast. After rummaging through your closet yet again, you chose a simple outfit, a hoodie and a pair of jeans. Once you fed Socks, you went out the door, trying not to be overcome with nerves. The walk to his apartment was just about ten minutes, like Matty had said before, so you didn't have too much time to dwell on those nerves. Reaching his door, you gave it a quick knock, and it swung open after a moment.

"I wasn't expecting you to be early."

"Matty, I'm five minutes late."

"Fuck, you're right," he said, looking at the time on his phone. "I must have lost track of time. Come on in. I'm still cooking." You stepped through the door into Matty's apartment, and you were met with chaos in the kitchen. Seemed like he hadn't even started yet. Two big pots sat on the stove top, and multiple cans of tomato were stacked onto the counter. He stood next to the counter, wearing an apron. Very cute.

"What are you even trying to make?"

"Uh... spaghetti?"

"Do you want some help?" You didn't want to be rude, but you wanted to eat something edible tonight.

"I want to say no, but I know if I do it will be a disaster." You walked into the kitchen and stood next to him, looking at the recipe he had printed out. The kitchen wasn't big. You were practically standing hip to hip. He was staring at the recipe printed out on the counter like he had no idea where to even begin. To be fair, the recipe he picked out wasn't an easy one.

"Matty, I think you managed to pick the most complicated spaghetti recipe I have ever seen. Go ahead and start the pot of water while I work on the sauce." Matty filled the pot with water, placed it on the stove, and then turned to you, watching you start the sauce.

"Sorry. I was supposed to be the one cooking for you."

"I love to cook. It's no trouble. Next time though, go for the pre-made sauce. Making it yourself is a pain in the ass."

"I'll redeem myself next time, promise."

The rest of the cooking went smoothly, for the most part. Matty almost burned the bread, but it was salvaged before the damage could be done. The both of you filled up your bowls with the spaghetti and went to sit on the couch.

"This is really fucking good," Matty said, after eating some of the spaghetti. It was true, you outdid yourself.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, yes, you could have."

"Boiling the pasta is a very important job, Matty." He let out a strong laugh at your reply. He then reached over to grab the remote to the television off of the coffee table and hand it to you.

"Here. As a repayment for basically cooking all of dinner, you can put on whatever you would like."

"You're giving me a lot of power here."

"Choose wisely."

You racked your brain for a moment for a good movie to put on, and then it hit you. "Oh! I have the best movie in mind." A devilish smile spread across your face.

Matty watched as you searched for the movie, until you finally landed on it. "10 Things I Hate About You? Really?"

"What? It's a classic."

"It's cheesy."

"All classics are cheesy. You're the one that gave me remote control power here."

"If it's what you want to watch, then I guess it’s alright." Matty got up for a moment as you pressed play and took the empty bowls into the kitchen to put them in the sink. When he returned, he sat right next to you on the couch. You were already nervous, and he hadn't even done anything. As the movie played, you both made small talk about certain parts of the movie.

"It may be cheesy, but Patrick serenading Kat with the school band is a cinematic masterpiece."

"Okay, maybe the movie isn't as bad as I remembered." Matty took the opportunity to stretch out his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. With that simple movement, the movie was the last thought on your mind. All you could think about was the weight of Matty's arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close. Matty turned his face towards you. His eyes locked onto yours, and his lips were mere inches apart from you. "Are you paying attention to the movie?" He shifted, eyes staring at your lips before you spoke.

"Not really." Your voice held up under the nerves.

"Me neither," he paused. His brown eyes jumping back to meet yours. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

His lips met yours. At first, they moved soft and slow against your lips. Both of his hands cupped your face, and your hands made their way around the back of his neck. You were more confident with your movements against his lips than the last time, but he still left you dazed. Your breathing picked up, desperate for more of his mouth.

When his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, the kiss intensified. He moved one of his hands from your face and threaded it through your hair, firmly holding onto the back of your head. His other hand held your hip, and you made your way onto his lap, just as you were a week ago. Matty pulled away from you, but before you had time to react his lips connected to your neck. His lips and tongue worked in tandem, pulling small gasps out of your throat. Your heart was pounding onto your rib cage. Hands trembling behind his neck.

Matty could feel the tremors in your hands. Lifting up from your neck, his eyes met yours in sincerity. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. You're safe with me." His words calmed you, as he continued to suck on your neck. Suddenly, his lips were replaced with the graze of his teeth, making you jolt. "Is that okay?" His voice was muffled against your neck before he relocated to another spot near your collar bone.

"Mhm," you hummed in response. You didn't want to know how needy your voice would sound if you tried to speak out your answer. His lips were hot and unrelenting against your neck, leaving marks behind. His tongue ran along all the places he bit and sucked at, soothing them.

Both of his hands moved to hold your thighs that straddled his hips. Fingertips digging into them. His grip tightened as you carefully began to move against his hips. Matty broke off from your neck, looking you deep in the eyes. His hands slipped underneath your hoodie, tracing the skin underneath it. His touch on your bare skin drew a small sound from your mouth. Your skin was fiery from the contact of his fingertips. The touch was careful and hesitant, but it was clear what he wanted.

"Can I take this off?" His voice was timid and out of breath. He didn't want to go too fast.

"Yeah," you whispered. Your voice was in the same shape as his. Apprehension was laced in your words. As soon as you gave your answer, his hands slipped your hoodie right off. His eyes bore into you as he looked down at your body, panting through parted lips.

"Fucking hell. Did you wear this for me?" The gaze of his eyes was so intense you had to break the stare. You rested your face in the crook his neck at his comment, losing courage fast. You did indeed listen to Penny this time, and bought a lacy black bra and underwear set earlier this week.

"I was worried it was going to be a little bit much." Face still hidden away from him.

"No, no, it's not. Don't hide your face," he said, fingers clutching your chin and guiding your face, so it was inches away from his, forcing you to be eye to eye once again. Matty removed his own shirt before connecting your lips back together, giving you the chance to run your hands down his bare chest. Your fingertips traced over the tattoo in the middle of his chest, and his reaction was immediate. His tongue worked its way into your mouth, pulling all the air out of your lungs as you continued to grind your hips onto him.

Without warning, Matty pulled you up from the couch by your hips and led you back towards his bedroom. His lips locked against yours until you made it into the room. The back of your legs hit the bed behind you, and then he broke away. Matty held eye contact as he sunk down to his knees in front of you, holding onto the back of your thighs. His eyes passionately looked up into yours, alternating between your wide eyes and your lips, completely enamored by you. He couldn't look away. Your lips were puffy from the previous kisses. You stared right back as his hands traced along the top of your jeans.

"Can I take these off?" he asked. He meant it when he said he wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do. He was going to make sure everything he did was okay. You hastily nodded in response to his question, but that wasn't enough. He needed more than that. "I need to hear you say it, love." He gave the skin above the waistline a small, open-mouthed kiss before looking back at you.

"Yes, you can do whatever you want." he chuckled slightly at your eagerness, but he was just as desperate for you. His hands slowly undid the button of your jeans before he pulled them down over your hips and thighs, keeping his eyes connected with yours as his hands removed your jeans. By the look of desire on his face, and the budge in his pants, you could tell he enjoyed your choice of underwear. The black lace against your skin was a sight he would have to commit to memory.

He stood back up and sat you down on his bed. He stayed right in front of you as he took off his own jeans with haste; pupils wide and blown. His lips were swollen and red, a sheen of saliva on them. You reached out for him, anxious for his touch. Hands running up into his brown curls pulling him down to kiss you, tugging the brown locks.

At the feeling of you pulling his hair, he groaned into your mouth. Unsure of what to do next, you let one of your hands glide down his chest, towards the growing bulge in his boxers. Before you made it, though, he intercepted your hand with his own. His hand completely covered yours as he pulled back to look at you.

"Did I do something wrong?" you asked.

"No, darling, you didn't do anything wrong," he reassured you quickly. His other hand came up to hold the side of your face, brushing your lower lip lightly with his thumb. "I just want to take care of you tonight. Is that alright?"

"If that's what you want to do."

"It most certainly is." Matty moved to sit up on the bed, but he didn't sit next to you. Instead, he sat towards the top of the bed, sitting against the plush headboard. He leaned back against it with his legs spread. "Come here. Lay back against my chest." Your confusion must have shown on your face as you stayed where you were sitting for a moment. "Stop thinking about it so hard, babe." His voice was teasing, but his face was genuine as he motioned you over to him. You listened, and crawled towards him on the bed, turning around so your back laid against his bare chest. The contact with his skin made you shiver. His thighs were on either side of your hips. You could feel yourself pressed into every part of him.

The nerves you thought had calmed down flared back up as you waited for Matty to make his next move. He began by taking his hands and placing them on your thighs. Matty rubbed up and down the lengths of your thighs before he pulled them away from each other to spread your legs apart, mirroring his own. His lips found your neck again, leaving kisses and small bites from the back of your ear all the way down to the crook of your neck. His hands moved from your thighs, dragging them along your hip bone until they spanned across your stomach. He decided to speak again. His breath hot in your ear.

"God, you look so good in lace. Going to be a shame to take it off." Your breath hitched as one of his fingers dipped under the waist band, but he made no effort to remove the undergarment. His hands moved again, this time towards your chest. "I think this can stay on as a compromise," he said with his hands over your breasts. He was teasing you. One of his hands glided down your stomach back to the waistband of your underwear. The other hand gripped you around the waist, pulling you in so you were against his groin. "Feel how hard you're making me?" You pushed your ass back against him, forcing a groan leaving his lips from the pressure.

"Is this okay?" he asked, fingers toying with the waist band. All you could manage was a gasp. "Use your words sweetheart." His voice was firm, but still gentle as he ran his fingertips tentatively underneath the waistband.

"Yes, please," you replied in a whimper. He trailed his middle and ring finger down to tease at your inner thighs before he finally placed them over your clothed clit. Matty planned to drag this out as long as possible. He pressed down in small, very slow circles, causing you to jerk back against him. A moan slipped from your throat.

"That feel good?" He left another hot, open-mouthed kiss on your neck before he trailed his fingers down lower, feeling your arousal through the underwear. "Already this wet for me? You must want it bad, huh?" His fingers continued to move against your clit over your underwear. You were growing restless, practically whining as your hips moved against his fingers, craving his touch on your skin, but he was unyielding. He wanted you to ask for it. "What? You need something else?" he asked, voice thick and sultry.

"Matty, please."

"Please what? If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to tell me with your words."

"Touch me. Please touch me. Please, please, please." You were gasping for air. Your chest moving up and down at a fast pace. You wanted him. No, you needed him.

"Such a good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" His comment made the blood rise to your cheeks. "I'm going to take these off now, alright?" He grabbed the waistband of the underwear and pulled them down your thighs. You stifled a gasp when his fingers pressed against you. One of your hands reached behind you to thread through his hair, while the other went to cover your mouth as he began to circle you in a fast motion. Matty wasn't going to allow that. His free hand coming up to pull your hand from over your mouth. "I want to hear how good I'm making you feel.”

You don't think you could have held back your moans even if you tried, whining at the movement of his hand. Your hips moved aimlessly against his. The constant movement against his erection was becoming too much. His groans were hot against your ear. His arm wrapped around your waist and pinned it to him, ceasing your movements. "This is about you sweetheart, remember?" he added, voice strained. He trailed a finger downwards, gently circling your entrance. "Can I?"

"Please," you begged. You wanted as much of him as he would give you.

He slowly worked a finger into you, waiting until you were comfortable before thrusting deep in and out of you at a careful pace. "Fuck, you're so wet," he breathed into your ear. By this point, his other hand moved its way past your breasts and rested around your neck, giving your neck a gentle, but constant squeeze. You choked out a moan at the pressure on your neck, writhing against his groin once again. Heat spread across your skin. You knew he wanted to be careful with you, but you couldn't take the slow pace of his movements. You needed more.

"Matty, please put another one in and go faster. I'm not going to break, please." you begged. You were desperate, you didn't care if you sounded that way.

"Eager?" he replied. You didn't have to beg again, though. He wanted to please you. Matty pushed another finger into you and increased his pace, curling his fingers up so they brushed against a spot that made you jerk against him.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out, tightening your grasp in his hair. Your head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, going deeper and deeper with every stroke. The heat began to build in your lower stomach, wounding tighter with each of his movements. His hand left your neck and rested below your navel. He pushed down onto your lower stomach with his hand while his fingers continued to move. A choked sob left your lips. The tension within you was growing tighter.

"You like that?" he asked as if he didn't already know the answer, picking up the pace of his hand. You pulsed around his fingers with every stroke inside of you.

"Matty—" you rasped. His name was the only thing you were sure of right now. His fingers hitting every spot you needed them to. The heat in your stomach was reaching a breaking point.

"Something you're trying to tell me, love?"

"Please. I'm so close, please."

Immediately, he drew his hand from your stomach and began to circle your clit. The sensation from both hands was too much. Your hips stuttering against him. Electricity began to run through your skin as your hands went down to grasp at his thighs for support. Nails digging into the skin.

"Go on, sweetheart. Don't hold back," he murmured. His lips reattached to your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point.

His words, the feeling of his tongue, and the prodding of his hands sent you over the edge. You cried out his name at your release. Your muscles tensed around his fingers as the pleasure enveloped you, trembling in his hold.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he whispered into your ear, continuing to rub your clit to help you come down.

You stayed against him, trying to catch your breath as he removed his fingers from inside of you. Your skin still buzzing with pleasure as his other hand held your chin to pull you in for a kiss. Wanting to deepen the kiss, you turned around to sit in his lap, but he held back your face before your lips could meet his. His fingers that were inside you came up to prod against your lower lip.

"Clean them off for me, yeah?" he asked. His pupils were so wide you could barely make out the brown ring around them.

You did what he asked, opening your mouth to take his fingers in as far as they would go. Your lips closed around his fingers while your tongue pressed against them; you could taste yourself on his fingers. He slowly dragged them out of your mouth, never breaking eye contact with you. You craved more of him.

"Please fuck me," you begged, voice shaky.

Matty sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted all of you, but he was determined to wait. His hands held both sides of your face before he spoke. "Next time, but not tonight, okay? I just wanted to take care of you tonight, to take things slow."

"I want to make you feel good, too. Please, Matty." Your hands were on his chest, raking your fingernails down him softly. The only thing separating your bodies was the thin fabric of his boxers. He was still hard against you, straining against the fabric.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he insisted. Although, he was losing composure fast at the feeling of you against him with nearly no separation.

"If you won't fuck me..." you breathed out, moving your hips. He winced as you ground down against him. "Is there something else you'll let me do to get you off? You can use my mouth if you want." He groaned at the thought of your lips wrapped around him but pushed the image aside. That would happen later, not tonight.

"Fucking hell, I'll compromise. You can jerk me off. That alright?"

"Yes," you replied with a quick nod. "I'll do anything you'll let me."

"Go ahead," he prompted, voice thin. You went to move off of his lap, kneeling beside him. You gradually ran your hand down from his chest tattoo until you reached the bulge in his underwear. You splayed your hand over his clothed erection and pressed down carefully, looking him in the eye. His hips jerked against your hand as you continued to apply pressure. "Fuck," he groaned. You moved your hands upward to hook around his waist band, pulling the garment down.

He was big. A bead of precum formed at his tip. Your hand trembled as you grasped around his cock. Your fingers barely made their way all around him. His chest moved up and down as he breathed deeply, watching as you held him in your hand. Unsure of exactly how to do this well, you looked up at him.

"Do you want some guidance?" he asked without you having to say anything. His eyes were glazed over as they looked back down on you. You nodded hesitantly in response, and this time he didn't pry at your lack of words. "Alright." His hand moved down until it was wrapped around yours over his cock. His hand completely encapsulated yours, making you feel small next to him. He began to guide your hand to move up and down his shaft at a careful pace. His breath picked up at the feeling of your hand around him, struggling to speak out his next set of instructions.

"Just start out slow, don't press too hard at the tip." You continued to follow the movements of his hand, occasionally glancing up to see the look on his face. His lips were parted, still puffy. Pieces of hair hanged down over his forehead. He removed his hand from yours to let you touch him on your own. You were still careful with your movements, but held him firmly in your grasp, using his precum to glide your hand at a faster pace.

You were still unsure of yourself. "Is that good?" you asked, meeting his dark eyes.

"Fuck. Yeah, that's good keep going just like that." His words only egged you on. You increased your pace, giving the head of his cock a gentle squeeze. His head fell back against the headboard as a choked sound left his lips. You took his exposed neck as an opportunity to attach your lips to his neck, sucking right above his collarbone while continuously moving your hand. His hips jerked when your lips met his neck. "Shit, love. You're so good. Fuck."

He was getting close. His lower stomach was tensing, and his cock pulsated in your hand. Strained sounds were coming out of his mouth. You removed your lips from his neck and moved your freehand to the back of his head, forcing him to look you in the eyes. The eye contact was all it took. He spilled over your hand while you continued to stroke him through his orgasm. His first instinct was to pull you in by the back of your head for a quick, but heated kiss.

"Here, let me get you some tissues," he said, reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand to clean up the mess on your hand. You stopped him with your clean hand.

"No, I got it," you replied, eyes dark. You took each of your fingers into your mouth, licking them clean while he watched with his mouth wide open.

"Shit. How about we do this again, same time next week?"

“Is that gonna be the ‘next time’ you mentioned earlier?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

[elevenfifths]

i’m gonna be honest, idk if it’s the med switch or what, but i feel completely debased from reality climbing into my truck to go to the park the last couple days.

nothing feels real and i’m just walking through a hazy approximation of what my normal world looks and feels like. nothing feels safe? my truck is a trap (it isn’t, i can open the door and walk away just fine). those people are secretly laughing at me (they aren’t and also not even looking at me). i shouldn’t have bought a lunchable at the convenience store bc They’ll Know™ (what exactly im not sure). am i gonna get in trouble from sitting here (i won’t)???

i had a moment yesterday when i was sitting on the bank of the river and straight up felt like i slipped into a hallucinatory state and tried to journal about it but looking at it now its just…kind of unfollowable. definitely identified a little strongly with the dead tree that was growing next to me but that’s the most that made any kind of sense.

i’m sure it’ll all settle out but fuck i hate this

[lupinedreaming]

Sooo … I decided to flex my horror writing muscle a little bit by writing a snippet of my demon OC Azzy imagining what he would do to the man who murdered his ghost sometimes lover.

This might appear in something I write later, but we’ll see!

CW below for murderous, somewhat gory fantasies.

Azzy didn’t care if the guy was a doddering old 80 year old by now who didn’t even remember walking a girl out to a stretch of lonely old highway, blasting a hole on her chest, and dumping her among the old yellowing summer weeds like she was a sack of refuse.

There were a few nice, out or the way abandoned places Azzy knew of where he could take him and torture him until he was a gibbering, drooling mess. 

And then, at the end of it, when he was staring at him with glassy, wet eyes and foaming red dripping from his lips, Azzy would fucking gut the bastard and then feed his own foul intestines back to him. 

[takecareluv]

happy new year <3 thank you for all the love and support this past year. i never expected any of this when i made this blog back in march — especially meeting so many amazing people i can now call friends. i appreciate and adore you all <333 and i hope 2023 is kind to each & every one of you. much love 💌 see you soon.

[camgoloud]

have been struggling for over an entire month to write literally anything and have finally managed to complete a (bad) draft of the final scene of the most cursèd thing i have ever written in my entire life after said scene gave me fits for ages. do i hit post today in search of instant gratification yes or yes

[peepos-prose]

Getting close to being 25% done Illusory and this bitch is fighting me. Will definitely need to do character studies on these lads afterward.

[therosevest]

i know he doesn’t mean it any kind of way but getting the email back from my prof like you need to invest in little sticky notes to go nuts and help with your series planning just made me sad. stand up babe

[malachitezmeyka]

Okay, PMS-induced venting aside, I continued working off my writing rust by translating YBA into russian, and I’m actually really happy with how most of it is going. The beginning’s a bit awkward since the sentence structure of Suiren’s little ‘six months’ internal monologue doesn’t carry over well, but overall it’s going great. I’m about 2/3 done with it, and I think russian’s wide range of available diminutives is my favourite thing. Like, the fact I can make ‘little sister’ sound ever littler and cuter? Why didn’t I try this earlier

Also, instead of translating P’Li’s nickname for Suiren - firecracker - literally, since I don’t like the sound of it + it doesn’t feel like something you’d call a kid, I instead translated it as ‘our little sparkle’ and I’ve been crying over it ever since

[teruthecreator]

maybe todays celebration will convince me to write the next fucking scene of my character study -__-

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℛℯ𝓁𝒶𝓍

a/n- Give my boy a break 😭 no warnings, angst to fluff. But this is like my second time writing for him so I don’t have his character completely down and analyzed ): hopefully it’s good

fnaf masterlist

You knew he was having a hard time with everything. His hands were on his forehead, as Abby rambled on at the dinner table. His eyes stayed glued on the bills, wondering how he’d pay for it.

He was just fired from another job, some job at a pizzeria this time. The pay wasn’t good, anyways, but it saved Abby from having to go to Jane.

“Hey, Abby, why don’t you go show me your new drawing?” You said, interrupting her rambling. Mike looked up at you, shaking his head. His eyes saying “it’s fine.” But you shook your head back, and gave him a small smile.

“Okay.” She said, jumping up from the seat and grabbing your hand, leading her to the room.

After a while, you tucked her in. In a way, she thought of you as like a mother.

“Goodnight, Abby.” You said with a smile, she smiled back and you shut the door.

You went into the living room, where Mike was staring off into space as he cleaned up the dishes.

You came up behind him, he jumped, not expecting you.

“She asleep?” He mumbled.

“Yeah. Mike…” you started, as he dried his hands.

“Hmm?”

“Come on. Let’s sit down for a second.” You said, he furrowed his eyebrows. Was this your way of breaking up with him? A million thoughts ran into his head, his anxiety getting the better of him.

“Hey, it’s nothing bad.” It’s like you could read his mind. You put your hand on top of his as you sat on the bed. He sat across from you.

“What is it?”

“I just.. I noticed you’ve been stressed, and I didn’t really wanna tell you this cause I know you would be all ‘we’re fine!’ And stuff. I got a second job. And I think that you just need to take a break for a second-“

“Wha- Y/n- how’s that even gonna-“

“Work out? It will. I promise. I’ll still be here every night, and I know you’re struggling. Mike, I just want the best for you.” You said, looking up at his glassy eyes. You were too good for him, he thought.

“We’ll make up the bill, and we’ll figure everything out. Together. I promise.” You said, smiling at him again.

“But why would you-“

“Because I want you to relax. I love you, and I would do anything for you. A second job isn’t gonna hurt, okay?”

Tears start to fall down, the weight of everything was crashing down on him. Abby, getting fired, Garrett, and now he felt like he was burdening you.

You frown, and scoot closer to him. You wrap an arm around him, he cries into your shoulder.

“You’re not a burden, Mike.” You mumbled.

“I love you.” He said, and you smiled. That was all you ever needed from him.

[skelly-words]

Tentacles.. we have blue we have pink, what if one fucks our ass and the other our meow meow

(Bring your tentacles to work day request)

Ignore if u want but ILY and marry me 💍

I've been neglecting my account so bad, but you forgive me, right? <3<3<3

NSFW minors dni please

Anywayyyy, this is short, but I was thinking about using pink and blue at the same time. You're only supposed to bring the pink one to work. It cups your pussy so you can grind on the textured tendrils without making a mess of your office chair. But what's the harm in trying both?

It's the last step of your morning routine. Trying to fit the base of both tentacles in your ass at the same time is stretch, but the fat plugs are stuffed into place anyway. The slender blue appendage slips up and down your slit. The juices drooling from your cunt mix with the blue opalescence lubrication coating the tentacle. You watch with a whine as it stuffs itself inside you, writhing and wriggling to fit just right. It never stops moving like it can't get comfortable, and the constant twisting in your guts makes your legs a little weak.

Then the thick pink tentacle latches onto you. The lace of your panties covers it so neatly, almost looking modest when spit isn’t collecting at the corners of your lips. The little feelers bully your swollen clit, meanly pinching on the bud while you grab your purse and walk out the door.

It feels so good to have something to keep you full. Every bump on the bus ride fucks the squirming blue tentacle deeper. And you don't have to worry about your sloppy pussy leaving a gross mark on the seat.

The pink tentacle soaks you up so greedily, waiting for you to be ready to take its squishy little eggs. You have no idea how it's all gonna fit. The walk from the bus to your office building is short, and you make it to your desk before finding out. Your hips rock back and forth on the chair to rub the knot of pulsing blue into your g-spot. Little pink feelers tug at your clit. It's hard not to moan, and you have to bite on your palm to keep quiet.

You whimper as the sticky eggs get released, crammed into your cunt with the slender blue tentacle. Your poor hole is so stuffed full that you can hardly twitch and tighten when you cum. The pink tentacle pushes more and more eggs into you as the tiny tendrils clean up all your juices.

It stops after that, as if knowing not to overstimulate you too much. There's a long day ahead of you, so the little monsters are content to keep you stuffed up and grinding on the attentive feelers. Maybe the blue one will cum in you later, hopefully the eggs don't get fertilized 🤷‍♀️

And the best part is, still no mess.

These are so fun to write, like the perfect mix of silly and horny. I luv the support everyone is being so nice to me here

[oh-obrien]

GRID ACE 0.1

GAMER READER X Lestappen SMAU

Summary: Reader is a Red Bull e-sports athlete who happens to catch the attention of two particular drivers with her streams

I am new-ish to the F1 fandom so hopefully I didn't mess this up too bad! I used to be an AVID fic writer on wattpad and I dabbled here in imagines and what not but a full time job (and a boyfriend who got me more into gaming RUDE) really shits on my desire to write sometimes and i found that SMAU's seem to be super popular in this fandom and they felt perfect 😊!

And my requests for these are open!!

All pictures are from Pinterest!!!

Reader has various face claims!

Masterlist / Next Part

Xx.y/n.xX just posted

Liked by yourbestfriend, maxverstappen1, and 6,756 others

Xx.y/n.xX the only appropriate way to spend a Friday night pre-stream

Yourbestfriend val really????

-> Xx.y/n.xX it’s almost like I’m a professional or something 🥸

-> yourteammate1 professional bottom frag maybe

-> Xx.y/n.xX SIT DOWN YOU INSTALOCK REYNA

User1 I fear the girlies claws are out today

-> Xx.y/n.xX I did do my nails today 😌

-> User1 THE QUEEN RESPONDED

-> Xx.y/n.xX rainy Friday nail day video coming to you soon!

Redbullgaming we love to see our number 1 girl on the grind

liked by maxverstappen1

-> Xx.y/n.xX awww admin you’re gonna make me blush

->yourteammate2 STOP STROKING HER EGO SHE ALREDY TOP FRAGS

-> Xx.y/n.xX get better then???

User2 is no one going to talk about THE Max Verstappen being in the likes?????

-> Xx.y/n.xX @ maxverstappen1 goes vroom vroom for RB 🤝 I go pew pew for RB

-> maxverstappen1 🫡

-> Xx.y/n.xX see he gets it!!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Xx.y/n.xX just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 12,568 others

Xx.y/n.xX join me, a Redbull vroom vroom driver and some other vroom vroom guy (his team is the red one apparently) on a stream!

Redbullgaming hope @ maxverstappen1 didn’t embarrass the name too bad

-> Xx.y/n.xX he went 4/22/2 his first game @ redbullracing please take him back!!! 😵‍💫

-> charles_leclerc I went 6/18/4! 😌

-> Xx.y/n.xX I’ve been informed this one belongs to you @ scuderiaferrari please tell him to stick to cars!!

-> Scuderiaferrari it’s not a race weekend he isn’t our problem

-> Xx.y/n.xX this is why I’m a @ redbullracing fan

-> Redbullgaming your contract also helps

Maxverstappen1 I’d like to see you behind the wheel of my car then

-> Xx.y/n.xX @ Redbullracing am I ‘on the grid’ (I was told those are the appropriate terms) next weekend?

-> Redbullracing y/n reserve driver when???

-> Xx.y/n.xX @ Redbullgaming you’re going to need to find a new Neon main 🫣

-> Redbullgaming @ redbullracing I’m afraid we need to keep this one, you don’t want her anyways (she bites)

-> Charles_leclerc I won’t complain about biting

liked by @ Maxverstappen1

User3 I’m sorry Max AND Charles streaming with her??

-> User4 like exactly????

-> User5 she doesn’t realize how lucky she is?

-> Xx.y/n.xX they were actually horrible teammates so…

-> User4 WAIT DID YOU NOT SEE THE COMMENT CHARLES DELETED????

-> User3 WHAT???

-> Xx.y/n.xX I plead the fifth, I’m American I can do that.

Landonorris where was my invite?

-> Xx.y/n.xX @ maxverstappen1 @ charles_leclerc does this one vroom vroom too?

-> Maxverstappen1 yes.

-> charles_leclerc yes.

-> Xx.y/n.xX ☠️

Teammate3 you traded us in?

-> Xx.y/n.xX more like downgraded

-> User6 PLEASE. I am living for Y/N absolutely roasting Max and Charles any chance she gets.

-> Xx.y/n.xX I mean @ charles_leclerc roasted himself with Brim’s molly so…. Not really my fault?

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Charles_leclerc just posted

tagged @ maxverstappen1 @ Xx.y/n.xX

Liked by Xx.y/n.xX, maxverstappen1, and 24,568 others

Charles_leclerc when the groupchat finally meets up

Xx.y/n.xX vroom vroom 🏎️

-> User7 I love how unserious she is like she didn’t just spend the weekend with Max and Charles

-> Xx.y/n.xX I actually spent the weekend with bottom frag and almost bottom frag, who holds which title is interchangeable they haven’t earned names yet.

-> Scuderiaferrari TECHNICALLY they were first and second frag on the podium

-> Xx.y/n.xX excuse me admin, I didn't say you could speak

-> Charles_leclerc excuse me y/n, I didn't say you could be in my comments

-> Landonorris @ Xx.y/n.xX you're allowed in my comments

-> Maxverstappen1 no.

-> Charles_leclerc no.

-> Xx.y/n.xX I KNOW THIS ONE HE'S AN ORANGE VROOM VROOM @ landonorris

User7 are we not going to talk about how fast she managed to get to a GP?

-> User8 are we not going to talk about how fast it feels like this friendship developed

-> User7 or how she already has other drivers joking with her too?

-> Xx.y/n.xX I'm a big kid I can get myself to a GP

Danielricciardo Y/N showed the entire gird up at the after party

-> User9 DETAILS????

-> Xx.y/n.xX a lady never shares her secrets 🤫

-> Maxverstappen1 a lady does share her shots though

Liked by @ Charles_leclerc

-> Xx.y/n.xX SILENCE BOTTOM FRAG NUMBER ONE

Teammate1 We need her back soon thxxxxxx

-> Xx.y/n.xX I fear they have discovered they can't win games without me

-> Landonorris y/n carry!!

Liked by @ Maxverstappen1 and @ Charles_leclerc

-> Xx.y/n.xX nevermind the orange vroom vroom man can stay, I like him.

-> Maxverstappen1 no.

-> Charles_leclerc no.

Redbullgaming we hope you had a great time y/n (you better have spent time in the @ redbullracing garage also)!!!

-> Xx.y/n.xX this feels like a threat admin?

-> Maxverstappen1 sadly she was in the garage, she knocked over some tires and just said oops

->Xx.y/n.xX you love me

Liked by @ Maxverstappen1

-> User10 umm guys????? CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS???

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Tweet 1

User13 The trio we didn't know we needed but we can't live without 🫡

-> User14 Did you see the tweet someone posted where they were apparently FLIRTING at dinner?

-> User13 NO?!?!?!

-> User14 @ User12 posted it go look at the thread

User15 I fear we have lost another one of the girlies chat

->User14 Y/N will always be a girls girl

User16 what is she doing in Monaco?

->User17 hanging out with vroom vroom boys apparently

->User16 hopefully we get a stream while she's there then!

-> Xx.y/n.xX I'm already on it, I'm trying to make sure they don't embarrass me though, they're not allowed to stream until they can go even

-> User14 She sees everything.

-> Xx.y/n.xX Yes, yes I do (so do bottom frag number one and two)

Tweet 2

User12 they were all sitting super close together and y/n kept touching both their arms, lots of shoulders bumping and giggling. They were also all totally sharing food which was kind of cute.

-> User18 sharing food??? I need DETAILS.

-> User12 they all kept just shoving their forks on to each others plates no asking or anything just stealing each others food.

-> Xx.y/n.xX to be fair we all got stuck super close together at the table so like no choice there (ick), and on the sharing we were all indecisive so sharing is caring ❤️

->User20 SHE REALLY SAID ICK.

->Xx.y/n.xX my mama always taught me boys have cooties sooooo...

User19 HELLO? Did you ask for a picture or anything like that?

-> User12 NO they literally looked like they were having the time of their lives? They kept swapping drinks and stuff too, the boys were LIVING for y/n’s fruity cocktails

-> Xx.y/n.xX I don’t drink wine, only mixed drinks or hard liquor, they were just mooching off my drinks because Mr. World Champion wouldn't order a little fruity drink himself.

-> User12 NOT THE WOMAN IN QUESTION IN MY REPLIES

-> Xx.y/n.xX I’m everywhere 👀

[cultven]

hii i love reading yor fics sososo much T_T<333

I'd like to request a fic where Logan dreams that he hurts the reader, almost killing them. The reader notices that he's having a nightmare and wakes him up, he's disoriented and in panic, but when he realized what just happened he is incredibly relieved to see that reader is ok and alive. Maybe he even breaks down and cries, which really shocks the reader cuz they arent used to seeing Logan like this 🥺 Then the reader comforts him and takes care of him until he's back asleep.

As It Should Be

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Comfort, crying, poor Logan cannot catch a break, but you're there to dig him out of his sadness hole, he loves you a lot, lots of fluff while comforting him

Word Count: 1.39k

Warnings: Some graphic violence during the nightmare segment

a/n: Thank you for the kind words! This one honestly got a little graphic in terms of gore, but nothing too bad, so hopefully that’s ok! This was fun to write, enjoy!

No. What had he done? 

Logan stood in a pile of debris and rubble, his white tank top and jeans now caked in blood that wasn’t his. Claws refusing to retract, Logan felt utterly hopeless against his own body. His actions weren’t his own as he trudged towards the only person left alive; you. You were scared, that much was clear by your facial expression and hasty movements to crawl backward away from the mutant. 

“Logan… this isn’t you, please.” You plead, eyes darting around the scene to find help, anyone that is still alive or conscious. All you could take in was the decimated mansion and the mauled corpses of your loved ones. What had taken over Logan? Why did he destroy the very things he risked his life for countless times? 

As Logan looked into your frightened eyes his heart clenched, knowing what was coming next. He just wishes he could stop it. Watching himself tear through his other family hurt like hell, but having to watch you die he didn’t think he could bear it. You were his entire world, the only thing that could ground him when he fell down the pits of self-destruction. He would forever kill himself before harming you. But this version of himself had other plans. 

He trudged over, claws glistening in the light of fire around them. “No, no no no…” You chant, still trying to escape the man but your legs are rendered useless due to your paralyzing fear. With one swift movement, Logan begins to tear through flesh and muscle, watching in horror as his hands mutilate his love against his will. You could do nothing but lay there, screaming in pain, your mutant ability keeping you alive for longer than you wanted to be. Logan wished he was the one being gutted. In a way, he was. Anyone else, anyone but you deserved his wrath. 

Tears clung tightly to his eyes as his hand retracted from your body, lining up for the final shot to the head. As the blade commences its soar towards your skull, Logan jolts up from a lying position and hastily takes in his surroundings. It was dark, he was under a blanket of sorts, and oh, he was in your bedroom. Had it only been a nightmare? No, it was far too cruel and realistic to have been. Even Logan’s mind wasn’t so callous to make him live through such a horror. So then, it must have been real? Logan begins to hyperventilate, raising his hands to eye level. His claws were away, and his rough skin was clean of blood. But, as he blinked, grotesque images flashed through his mind. Sick crimson blood, your blood, begins to stain his hands, drying in a disgusting reddish-brown. He immediately jumped out of bed, went into the ensuite bathroom, and scrubbed his hands raw. 

“No, no no no.” He chanted under his breath as he tried to scrape off the non-existent material. The cold water was not enough to ground him back to reality, Logan eventually gave up and put him back to the skin, sliding down towards the floor to cradle his head in his hands. Thanks to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and Logan’s hard footsteps, you eventually stir awake. At first, nothing seemed wrong, maybe he just had to use the bathroom. But after the sound of continuous water for five minutes you grew increasingly concerned. Deciding to confront the man you carefully walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock three times, not to startle him during whatever he’s doing. 

“Lo?” It was only one syllable, but your sweet voice saying his nickname out loud was enough to send Logan scrambling. The door eagerly burst open, and when it did the sight you were met with shocked your heart. There was Logan on the ground, clearly disheveled, eyes bloodshot and teary. “Oh baby, what happened?” You coo, going to take a step forward but immediately retreating seeing Logan flinch. 

“You’re- you’re real, right?” Logan tentatively asks, sounding scared. Of course, you were real, why wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yes, love.” You stay put in your place. You didn’t want to upset him further.

“No… I ripped you apart. You died by my hands.” You resist the urge to outwardly exclaim how ridiculous he sounded before realizing he more than likely had a nightmare. Logan was prone to bad dreams, but none ever shook him quite as much as this. The only good thing that came out of the consistent night terrors was that you now knew how to soothe him in times like these. 

“I’m right here my love. I’m not hurt. See? I’m perfectly okay.” Your voice stays calm and soothing, not wanting to startle him further. “Touch my hand. Feel my skin. I am right here.” Usually, the sensation of touch grounded him from this distressed state, but this time he seemed hesitant to even look in your direction. 

“I can’t. I might hurt you again.” Logan looked so small and it broke you. He was huddled into himself, still looking at you untrusting. The thought of himself harming you any further plagued his mind, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. You were his world, his everything. He curses his body for the immortality that was bestowed upon him because if anything happens to you he wants to follow right behind. 

Realizing you may seem intimidating due to the fact you’re standing tall over his curled-up body you lower yourself and sit criss-cross applesauce across from him. Putting your hand out in between your two bodies you silently sit there, waiting for Logan to take this at his own pace. After a few minutes, Logan seems calm enough to touch your hand. Fingertips only brush at first, then a loose handhold, then a firm grasp on each other. Before either of you knew it you were fully embracing, Logan nuzzling his head into your neck. He needed to take you in every sense, to prove this was real. His nose took in your intoxicating perfume, his hands gripped your curves, his ears heard your soft breaths release from your mouth, and when he pulled back his eyes took in the sight of you. You were as stunning as always even with your messy hair and tired eyes. You were real, you were here, and you were his. 

Seeing as your boyfriend has calmed down you decided to relocate to a more comfortable area. “Let’s get off this gross floor, okay love? Let’s go to bed.” You whisper, carefully tugging him along to your shared bed. Once you two got settled down you were instantly back in his strong arms, protecting you from the rest of the world. You thought all was said and done for the night until Logan spoke up. 

“You were so scared. I made you scared.” He hated seeing you that way. It hurt him. What hurt worse was that he was the cause of it. He now understands it wasn’t real, but your expression was so gut-wrenching he couldn’t shake it off. 

“Logan I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” You reassured him. “Except maybe when you squeeze me to death with your bear hugs.” Logan chuckled a little bit, your humor always lightens the mood. You lay in silence for a bit, almost dozing off until you hear a voice next to you. 

“Thank you for dealing with me.” You smile, leaning over and kissing the man gingerly on the cheek. 

“It’s what I signed up for my love. Besides, you could never be a bother to me.” He smiles back, a rare sight to anyone but yourself. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too.” With that resignation you two cuddle, arms and legs entangled with one another’s. Eventually, Logan is lulled back to sleep while listening to the steady beat of your heart. Instead of another nightmare, he is met with a blissful dream of the two of you living together on a mountain, away from all the violence and harm the world holds. Just as it should be. 

[kitasgloves]

I saw requests were open(hopefully if i read it right, English isn’t my first language 😭) but i was reading one of your Chuuya drabbles where you said he was aggressively sweet with you because he found you so cute and i wanted to know if you could write about him with a golden retriever gf/type of reader?

Like their just so cute that they just give Chuuya cute aggression or something(and an accidental corruption kink, whoops)

I got you covered, anon <3

— ♬ NSFW

I would like to imagine how protective NAKAHARA CHUUYA would be with a golden retriever type of s/o. He wants to preserve your sunshine and selfishly keep it to himself. Your mannerisms, habits, and personality make his insides melt. He finds everything you do super fucking cute that he can't stand it. Eventually, he develops this cute aggression with you.

The gravity manipulator enjoys pulling you into bone-crushing hugs, hoisting you into his arms, and spinning you around so he can hear your adorable laugh. When you two are alone together he'd randomly grab your face and litter kisses all over it until it's obnoxious, he finds your glare cute when he squeezes your cheeks until they turn red. Chuuya would grab your jaw with his hand and pinch your cheeks to make your lips form into a pout before leaning close to kiss you hard. He loves to run his tongue over your lips before slipping them inside your mouth. God, he's a lip-biter too. You'd whine and whimper when he leaves your bottom lip swollen and red from his biting.

I could not stress enough how this mf is a biter. He'd bite your exposed skin. Sinking his teeth on your flesh is his way of showing his affection. Chuuya would bite the nape of your neck, your shoulders, your tummy, your inner thighs, etc. He feels so proud when he sees you covered in red bite marks. Sometimes you'd scold him when he's getting excessive, and for the most part, he feels guilty and would offer to lick the fresh bite marks as an apology.

You would get so bubbly that it's infectious. Chuuya could be having a shitty day but once he sees you coming up to him like an adorable puppy, his bad mood just vanishes. He loves to spoil you too with gifts whether it would be food or clothes. Oh! And if you're into dressing up, Chuuya would be so supportive of it (he's a fashion icon fr). When he sees you dressed up in bright-colored clothes he just gushes, blushes, and clutches his chest because holy fuck you're so adorable :(( ! (he wants to fucking bite you).

You're so kind and pure-hearted too that he almost feels guilty for being your not-so-green-flag boyfriend. Your naivety just adds to your charm that Chuuya finds it impossible to resist you. Unbeknownst to you, every little thing you do is driving him to the edge. The fact you're enabling him to squeeze you and bite you gives him the impression that you're enabling his sweetly aggressive behavior.

"Oh fuck, babydoll—"

Chuuya growls when he feels you clenching around him. Tonight was supposed to be an adorable cuddle session while watching rom-coms, but your boyfriend was pushed to the edge when he found you wearing those cute fluffy pajamas and nuzzling against his chest like a cute cat. He just had to shove you down on the bed, pull your ass up, and pull your pajama's down.

"Chu-ah! Chuuya! Pl-please slow down!"

You were pleading with your boyfriend but he doesn't obey you. Chuuya grunts as he greedily slides his cock inside and out of you, your warm and tight walls fueling his carnal desire. The pace of his hips slapping against your ass becomes unbearable when you were unable to form any coherent words, every breath was knocked out of your lungs with every brutal thrust, and with every brutal kiss of his cock against your cervix. You were practically crossed-eyed and drooling against the pillow. And Chuuya finds it so fucking adorable that he wants to corrupt you more.

"Flip over, darling"

Suddenly, you're on your back and he pulls out. You gasped and stared at Chuuya towering over you. He stares at you sharply as he goes to bite your thighs, you cutely whine and try to swat his head away while he chuckles. He lines his dick against your cunt again, he pushes in viciously that it sends your head rolling back. The mafioso snatches your jaw and brings your face close to his as he starts up a languid pace and hits you in the most perfect spots.

"You're so fucking cute, [Name]. Fuck! Just-hah-look at your cute little pussy squeezing my cock. You're just begging to get ruined by me, aren't you?"

"Nghh—no, Chuuya I—oh shit!"

Your boyfriend immediately gives you one ferocious thrust and goes still when he sees your eyes rolling back. He lightly slaps your cheek to bring back your attention.

"You're going to cum on my cock like the adorable doll that you are. And you're going to take my cum because you deserve it, understand?"

Chuuya sounded like he was threatening you with the way he was snarling and staring darkly at you. He was squeezing your jaw so aggressively that it was beginning to hurt.

"Do you fucking understand me?"

"Yes!"

"Good"

With that, Chuuya grabs your legs and hooks them over his shoulders. Your heart drops, and you gaze worryingly at your boyfriend when he begins to hover over you, slowly folding you in half. He fiercely pins your wrists in place, smirking devilishly down at you while you're panicking.

"No! Chuuya, wait! Don't—"

Chuuya cuts you off when he mercilessly thrusts forward, stealing a pornographic moan out of you. Tears gradually formed in your lashline as you helplessly watched your boyfriend fuck you in a mating press. The position was sending his cock deeper inside you as you allowed him to further bully your cervix. The pleasure was so mindblowing that it made you go limp. Chuuya laughs as he sees his adorable lover getting pounded senseless. Your eyes were literally at the back of your skull, your jaw was slack and drool was seeping out of the corner of your lips.

"Shit! Well, aren't you adorable—fuck, you're tightening around me again! Yeah, that's right, cum on my cock. Come on, come on, come on—"

Chuuya watches hungrily as your intense orgasm sends you convulsing and breathless under him. He hears you whimpering his name when you creamed around his cock. He stops as he lets your release properly pass through. To see you properly fucked out by him makes him impatient though, so he decides to continue pounding into you the second your orgasm passes. It didn't take long for you to get overstimulated.

"Gonna cum next, babydoll. Hah—shit, take all my cum. It's all yours, it's all fucking yours—"

The gravity manipulator was unable to hold back his release. He yells out a raspy moan as he went still and shoves his cock in you before flooding your walls with his seed. He hears you whimper with delight as he feeds your cunt with his thick cum. Chuuya doesn't pull away after, he leans down to give you a fervent kiss on the lips and bites your bottom lip in the process.

You felt tired and full of Chuuya's cum as you lay motionless in the bed. Your boyfriend felt more satisfied than guilty to see you in a fucked out mess. When your eyes begin to flutter close, he starts the aftercare. Eventually, you were cleaned and pulled close to Chuuya before falling asleep.

phew! time for me to touch grass now

[miryum]

A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious. 

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter. 

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends. 

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly. 

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree. 

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world. 

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you. 

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother. 

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect. 

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing. 

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright. 

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well. 

Best wishes, 

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours  myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable. 

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated. 

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close. 

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms. 

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows. 

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’ 

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were. 

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.” 

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth. 

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family. 

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?” 

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…” 

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son. 

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy. 

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue. 

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…” 

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger. 

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed. 

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates. 

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care. 

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him. 

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.” 

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour. 

“Goodnight,” you reiterated. 

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you. 

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?” 

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?” 

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.” 

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.” 

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.” 

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him. 

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence. 

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library. 

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?” 

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red. 

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.” 

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm. 

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.” 

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied. 

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene. 

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up. 

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall. 

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him. 

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read. 

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply. 

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?” 

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered. 

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble. 

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly. 

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?” 

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit. 

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer." 

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?” 

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children. 

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less." 

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously. 

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?" 

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you. 

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much… 

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how. 

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune. 

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted. 

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin. 

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.” 

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss. 

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his. 

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!” 

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid. 

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck. 

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes. 

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?”  Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline. 

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled. 

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”