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#never forget that you’re loved darlings
winterrrnight · 17 hours
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rafe being a passionate lover... <3 a rafe cameron x gn!reader blurb <3 cw: suggestive content (not actual smut!) dedicated to my🦉anon <3
it’s a known fact that rafe takes his own time to start to open up to you after you express your interest in him because of his obvious trust issues. you have to learn to be patient and not let this delicate process rush in any way because his mind works in such a way that isn’t known by all. but when he does, when he gets comfortable around you, when he knows you do love him truthfully, he learns to express his feelings properly to you, and when I say he expresses them, I mean, he really expresses them.
with him on his knees in front of you, his lips press soft, languid kisses along the soft flesh of your thighs.
“I love you so much…” he breathes against your thighs, burying his face more and more against them. “I’m yours, I’m all yours, all of me… it’s yours, forever and ever,”
you let out a sigh at the feeling, letting his words sink in you. he does this often, gently kissing your skin, letting out his words of love for you, letting them spill against your skin, and all he wants is for his words to ingrain in your skin.
“I’m all yours to love, all yours to cherish…” he murmurs, his lips trailing up to lower abdomen as he kisses along it, his lips pressing against your skin for more than a few seconds, letting them linger.
“you’re so perfect…” he murmurs, “so so perfect, I’ve fallen so hard for you…”
his lips trail along your hip bones, continuing his lascivious kisses along your skin. “I love you with my soul… you’re my whole world and I don’t know of a life before you,”
soft gasps spill from your lips and rafe revels under the feel of your body and the sound of your voice, never wanting anything more than that. his lips gently trail up and up and up and he reaches your lips. his lips push against yours and he gently, tenderly kisses you, his fingers gently tracing along your sides. he’s slow, he’s not hurried, and he just wants to forget about everything else and just know you. because you’re the most perfect person he’s ever known.
“oh my darling you are absolutely divine and unreal…” are the words he spills against your lips before softly capturing your lips in a kiss again.
— —
this is either extremely good or extremely cringe and it’s all up to you guys to make that decision ☺️
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draconic-desire · 3 hours
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THE NAIVE DARLINGGGG
I can imagine darling crying into Sunday.. at first refusing going to home, expressing her insecurities. So when Sunday drags her back, she just pleads with Sunday. All darling wants to to serve at least some purpose to Sundays life. She begs Sunday to let her cook for him .. or in her sobbing fit shr muttered how even having Sundays baby would serve some usefullness.. Darling didnt want to seem like a burden to Sunday..
At the mention of babies, Sunday gets the idea of how sweet little children will tie darling to him forever
The baby will come out a lil skrunkly , in a cite way of course <3 a fat plump baby who looks like a dumpling with chicken wings attached to the back of its ear :"(
sunday would 1000% babytrap his darling at some point, you cannot convince me otherwise. but if YOU came to HIM about it? girl bye you’re done for
Yan!Sunday x Fem!Reader
warning: nsfw thoughts from sunday, mentions of pregnancy
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After Sunday leads you back home, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to spiral again.
Walking through the halls of the spacious pavilion, eying the grandeur that is Sunday’s home, pondering his status as the head of the Family…you start to wonder what you bring to the table.
He claims he loves you, that you are unique and irreplaceable, but what does that really mean? You have no money, wealth, or fame, no notable skills that could contribute to the Oak Family lineage.
Well, except…
Your hand falls to your abdomen. It’s something Sunday has mentioned in passing, the need for an heir, the desire to expand his family, but you never thought he meant doing so with you. But perhaps…?
Your head shakes violently, and you turn to wipe away a stray tear. How foolish of you. Sunday doesn’t keep you around for that sort of thing. His hier will be delivered from a queen, befitting of the same status as him, and not some nobody like you.
Like always, Sunday is more attentive than you give him credit for.
He thinks it’s cute, how naive and oblivious you are sometimes. Except when he notices that this time, you are attempting to hide your crying behind the palm on your hand.
“(Y/n), my love, what troubles you?” He gently pulls your hand away from your face and instead turns you to face him.
Seeing him like this, his tender gaze trained on your form alone, suddenly makes you burst into tears.
“S-S-Sunday,” you sob, “please let me help! I’ll do anything!”
He blinks, confusion written across his features. “Help? With what? (Y/n), it’s been a long day, let me take you to bed—”
You clasp his hands in your own, looking up at him with (e/c) eyes brimming with tears. “Please, don’t throw me aside for someone else. I-I promise I’m not a burden. You need an heir, right? So please, let me carry that responsibility.”
He inhales sharply, his amethyst pupils dilating.
…Did he hear you correctly?
You want to have his child?
Sunday momentarily forgets how to breathe.
Oh, how he has fantasized about this very scenario; it has taken all of his willpower to hold back, to fool you into believing his charming, domestic mannerisms, when he truly wishes to claim every part of you, to brand himself upon every inch of your flesh. Lovely, beautiful, naive little you would never expect the dark desires hidden beneath the surface.
In reality, the thought of you begging for his seed permeates his waking and sleeping dreams. He’s lost track of the amount of nights spent with his hand around his cock, picturing your tight cunt wrapped around it instead.
Never would he have imagined you in this position willingly, practically on your knees for him, desperate for his cum, for his child growing in your belly. The idea arouses him more than you can ever know, and he has to shift to hide his growing erection.
Instead, he scoops you into his arms and nuzzles his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent. Oh, how lovely you’re going to smell when you’re glowing and round with his heir! He imagines how adorable his Halovian child will be, and how he wishes to pin a pair of wings behind your ears as well—a matching set for father, mother, and child.
The wings are, of course, the very ones ripped from your own back—you’re just too entranced by Sunday to notice it was he who plucked them from you to begin with.
And now, Sunday is through with holding back. You’re going to be fully and irrevocably his, tied to him forever. Like a fly landing on a venus trap, your own actions seal your fate. You don’t have a moment to react before the jaws of the predator swallow you whole.
“How could I deny you, my angel?” he coos, pacing towards the bedroom as he begins to pry at the buttons of your top. “And what better time to begin than the present, hm?”
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punkrockcrow · 1 year
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i do not give a flying fuck about who it is but if someone is rude and hurts nico di angelo in any type of way, i will never forget. nico does No wrong. if he’s hurt, i’m hurt. if he’s in pain, i’m in pain. if he hates, i loathe. i don’t even care if he forgave them or not, i will remember what they did to him and carry it to the grave.
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moechies · 1 month
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giving older bsf toji a bj cs u dont have any money on u for gas 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
oh mi gosh. dis is absolutely so filthy ‘nd absolutely perfect for him . dis is how grimy he is in my mind.. (modern au where toji is RICH $$)
“toji.”
“hm, darling?” you look upon the questioning man sitting besides you, one strong hand that guides the steering wheel of your own car. he insisted to drive, and in what position would you say no? you’d never pass up an offer to be passenger princess.
“i-i forgot.”
“forgot what?”
“forgot money for gas, toji.”
“are ya dumb sweetheart? goin’ t’get gas n the one thing ya forgot is gas money?”
“‘m s-sorry toji, can you lend me? please? promise i won’t forget next time!”
he scoffs, knowing well that he would’ve paid nonetheless. but watching you nervously scramble yourself together, anticipating a response from him is too adorable, he thinks.
“yeah, but ya gotta pay me back.”
“course i will! gonna give it back as soon as we ge-“
“no sweetie. not with money.”
your head turns slow to the man, already shooting you a evil-intentioned smirk. his free hand comes down to scarce over the evident bulge that pokes through his sweats, indirectly instructing you.
“with your mouth, honey.”
he chuckles when your face flushes red, how unexpecting.
with over 3 years of close friendship, the man had assumed that you at least would’ve noticed; his stares that pierce into your skin, touches that linger a little too long, and the constant absence of your favorite panties. what a naive little thing you were; he loved it.
if you didn’t know his true intentions then, you’d definitely know now.
“c’mon, y’want me to fill it up right?”
“t-“
“the tank sweetie. the car. don’t you want gas?”
you huff when he chuckles at your flustered expression. your small fingers dance across his bulge, his own hand messily slipping under the band of his sweats, releasing himself. he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when you gasp, fawn like eyes that immediately shoot up to meet his gaze.
“s-so big..”
“mm, you think so?” he teases.
his hand slithers to the back of your head, fingers playing with one or two strands of your hair.
“c’mon, be good..”
he smiles at you coyly, desperate even, and it makes your heart and your cunt clench.
with slight pressure from the man’s hand, you find yourself lowering onto the tip of his cock. your puffy lips press against the warm slit, an immediate groan that spills from his lips,
“no action recently?” you tease, facing him with a slight smile,
“shaddup princess. yer lucky you’re cute.”
you snicker, separating your slicked up lips to wrap around the thick of his cock head. your tongue presses against the slit once again, tasting the sweet substance that coats his dewy slit; more that spews from the teasing licks.
“don’t t-tease.”
you hold yourself further onto his cock to accommodate his length, a light gag that elicits from your throat. tears brim in your eyes when you feel your jaw begin to ache, but the needy man pays no mind when he begins thrusting into your warmth.
oh and when he feels a warm tear fall onto the skin of his thigh, he nearly cums.
“heh.. there you go, see? ya can do it.”
you hum around him, the light sensation that drills right through his sensitive cock.
“g-gunna cum. shit.”
and with a few shallow thrusts, his cum brims. it’s warm, and thick, but you swallow without a second thought. you pull yourself off to meet your eyes with his, vision daisy and face flushed with a sweet pink once again.
“hah.. gonna have to fill you up, darling. we’ll worry about the car later, kay?”
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sinning-23 · 5 months
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Calling Them By Their Full Name
OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy
Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious
Sorry for any spelling errors!
Luffy
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-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.
-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.
-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”
-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got
-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.
-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.
-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.
-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.
-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long
Zoro
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-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY
-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded
-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed
-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”
-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.
“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.
-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.
-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you
Sanji
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-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."
-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.
-You never use his full name like that. Never.
-did he just get chills?
-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.
-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.
-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.
-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.
Bonus: Mihawk
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-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.
-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.
-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand
-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!
-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.
-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.
-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.
-His look says it all. You’re screwed.
-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.
-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”
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thesolarangel · 6 months
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Source of pleasure
1.094 words · Rating: Explicit +18 · Halsin x Astarion x reader · AO3
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Tags: threesome, unprotected P in V! (remember: wrap it before you tap it!), coming inside, creampie, dirty talk, chubby reader, they/them pronouns for gnc-reader, laughing while fucking, polyamory
(Oh noo, the filthy smut I imagined in my head turned into ✨love making✨as soon as I was writing it down… Whoopsie)
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________
“You’re doing amazing, darling.”
Astarion purred, grazing his lips down your neck and sucking into the soft flesh. He was seated behind you on the bed, his chest against your back, whispering sultry things into your ear. His hands were now on your plump tits, kneading them, teasing your nipples mercilessly, making you moan unrestrained. 
Halsin was kneeling in front of you, two fingers working you open, his thumb pressing lightly on your sensitive clit. The druid presented such a gorgeous sight before you, all big and broad and a beautiful hairy chest to die for. His hard cock stood proudly between his legs. The bulbous pink head and thick shaft making your mouth water, you wanted him inside so badly.
“Look how big he is, how he's throbbing for you.” Astarion’s low voice was sending shivers down your spine. 
Halsin watched your face closely for any sign of discomfort, he wanted to make absolutely sure that you were ready for him. You moaned, encouraged by Astarion’s words and eager for Halsin to finally give you what you wanted most…  
Astarion wasn’t unaffected by all of this. You felt his hardness against your lower back. He was straining against his pants. You tried to turn around to get your hands on him, you didn’t want him to be left out, but he stopped you mid way.
“Ah-ah-ah, this is just for you, darling”, he pulled you snug against his chest and continued kissing your neck. “Let us take care of you, hmm?”
Halsin bent down to cup your cheek with his other hand. He captured your mouth in a gentle kiss, grazing over your lips in languid motions. He was always so careful with you as if you’d break under his big hands. You felt so small with him hovering over you.
You loved the way he made love to you. You always felt so secure and protected with him. But right now with Astarion teasing you, finding your sensitive spots and Halsin’s big fingers exploring the depths of your warm, wet cunt, you were close to your limit.
“Please, Halsin…” you whined impatiently. 
“Don’t make them wait any longer”, Astarion chimed in while roaming his hands over your round belly and your alluring tits. 
Halsin smiled, “I hear you.” He stole another heated kiss and then he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, making you gasp. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire, sweetheart.”
Fetching and opening the small vial of lubricant, he let a few drops dribble onto your vulva, smearing it into your cunt with the head of his cock. 
You and Astarion both made a lewd noise in unison while watching. Astarion’s hands wandered downwards and spread your labia open to watch Halsin nudge his cock inside. Cautiously, he fed you inch for inch of his hard length, making you gasp at the stretch.
Once Halsin was seated inside you, Astarion spoke up once again, voice heavy with lust. “You take him so well, every inch of him…”
”By the oak father, you feel incredible", Halsin agreed with a low grunt that went straight to your swelling cunt. He caressed your thighs and the soft flesh at your waist as he waited for you to get accustomed to his thick shaft.
“Do you feel generously stuffed, darling? Does he fill you up nicely?” Astarion purred close to your ear while he watched.
“Yes… “ You moaned in response. You closed your eyes and threw your head back onto Astarion’s shoulder.
Halsin bent down to pull Astarion into a filthy kiss. Astarion made a surprised yelp that turned into a needy whimper as Halsin devoured his lips hungrily.
He smirked when he broke the kiss, gazing deeply into Astarion’s eyes. “Let’s make sure they’ll never forget this.”
Astarion stared at him and you could feel his erection growing harder against your back. He adored the druid as much as you did and you felt it. “Sounds like a plan”, he whispered seductively.
Halsin grabbed your waist and started fucking you with slow, languid thrusts while Astarion had one hand on your breast and one on your clit, massaging it just the way you liked it.
Halsin looked gorgeous above you. His tanned skin was glistening with sweat, his stomach flexed as he plowed into you, making your tummy and your tits jiggle with every thrust. 
Being loved by these two beautiful creatures was like something out of a wonderful dream. Watching Halsin’s adoring expression while he was fucking you, feeling Astarion’s gentle, experienced touch on your hot skin, all of it made your heart race and you couldn’t get enough. You whined desperately as Halsin picked up the pace.
“Fuuuuck…” Halsin grunted.
“Listen, darling, you reduced our handsome druid to profanities, well done!” Astarion chuckled.
You let out a hoarse laugh, but Halsin’s hard thrusts stifled your laughter. You watched his length disappear inside you over and over again, while listening to the lewd sounds and moans that filled the room. 
Halsin pounded into you mercilessly, Astarion rubbed your clit harder and suddenly your orgasm hit you with such brutal force and you cried out when deep hot pleasure washed over you and through your body for several seconds. 
“Sweetheart, I’m close, where–” Halsin began, unable to finish his sentence, trying so hard to hold it in.
Astarion noticed you were distracted from your orgasm. “Do you want him to come inside you, baby, hmm?” He asked while he was fondling your tits and grinding against your back, chasing his own release. 
“Yes, please…” You whimpered. 
Halsin was panting above you and with a few more erratic thrusts, he spilled his big load inside you. At the same time, you felt Astarion’s trembling motions coming to a halt as he burst in his pants with a rough grunt.
You made a pleased hum when Halsin pulled out carefully and you watched his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets.
After all three of you had cleaned up, you got back into bed, with you in the middle, Halsin spooning you from behind and Astarion on the other side, facing you. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and whispered sweetly: “Hmm, thank you, darling, that was wonderful.”
“My heart, you are so loved…” Halsin peppered your cheeks and your neck with little kisses while he snuggled his big body against yours.
“You make me so happy, both of you.” you murmured as you slowly drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between your two lovers.
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MDNI divider by @cafekitsune here
tag list: not sure who to tag here, since it's my first fanfic for this fandom, so I'm just gonna tag the ones that agreed to be tagged in everything and some others who are in the fandom and read smut...
@starlady66 @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @corrodedbisexual @lady-of-imladris @aiwe-the-little-bird
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month
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How they’d react to you kissing their cheek unexpectedly…
Boothill: seeing as how his face is the only part of him that could actually feel your touch, something he had disclosed with you in confidence and away from preying eyes.
So the moment you pressed a kiss to his cheek, Boothill melts, it was in this moment where he realised how truly touch starved he was ever since acquiring a new body. It made him hate it even more then he already did for he couldn’t experience the joy of holding your hand, having you pressed up against his chest, nothing.
He couldn’t feel none of that and he hates it so fucking much.
He hated the fact that he couldn’t feel you kiss his fingers or feel you press yourself again his back in a hug, nor the kisses that he could only imagine being pressed there, not to mention the times where you would nuzzle your face into his neck for he couldn’t feel that either.
‘Please.’ He pleads when he felt that you were about to pull away, desperately grasping at your waist that he couldn’t feel the flesh of, pulling you back into him. ‘Spare another one of your sweetest kisses for me darlin’?’ He asks in dire need of you and your kisses.
‘I’d happily give you all the kisses you could ever want.’ You replied and Boothill truly believed that you must be a saint or something because how could someone like you be with someone like him? It just doesn’t make sense.
‘Then we’ll be here for a long while sweetheart because I want them all, so don’t you go given them to anyone else, ya hear?’ He says and you only gave him another lingering kiss to his cheek, making him tighten his hold on you.
‘Then shall we get started?’ You asked with a smile.
Aventurine: ‘oh. What’s this? Kissing my cheek without warning me beforehand.’ He gasps as he holds a hand to his heart. ‘How scandalous of you.’
He’d act like your affection has no real effect on him but the faint blush scattered across his cheeks told a very different story. A story that said that he wasn’t use to your tenderness and affection towards him, that he doesn’t deserve you nor your love and that hurt you deeply.
‘It maybe scandalous to you but to me, I just want to show that you’re more than worth every bit of my affection, and just know that nothing anyone will say can persuade me into thinking otherwise.’ You told him and cheeky smirk upon his lips softened with the rest of his face.
‘You…you mean that?’ He says meekly. ‘You’re not joking…are you?’
You pressed another kiss to his cheek, letting it linger there before pulling away. ‘I’d never joke about how much you mean to me, I’m not that heartless or cruel. I adore you my darling, sweet Kakavasha.’ You answered him truthfully. ‘So if you allow me, I can show you just how much I adore you.’
Aventurine didn’t say anything at first, still wondering after all this time if he was really worth everything you’ve done for him, but one look in your eyes and the blonde knew he had his definitive answer. ‘Please show me just how much you love me, make me forget about the voices in my head that make me second guess my worth and just make me yours with every kiss.’
Argenti: thanks you for the cheek kiss before reciprocating with one of his own.
You pout. ‘I’m meant to be spoiling you in affection right now.’
Argenti cocks his head to the side, confused. ‘Why should I allow you to bless me with your kisses and not reciprocate them? Wouldn’t that seem…selfish of me.’ He asks.
‘No it wouldn’t.’ You tell him as you held his face within your hands. ‘I want you to be selfish and let me smother you in affection without feeling the need to do the same becuase you do that enough as it is on a daily basis.’ You stopped to rest your forehead against his forehead, rubbing your nose softly against his own. ‘So please just let me show you how much I care for you and thank you for being you, my sweet knight.’
Argenti sighs, allowing himself to think it over in his head. He didn’t like being selfish, it felt wrong for him to be self-indulgent when he could be the one giving you the affection, but after some time he has finally come to a conclusion. ‘Alright, I willingly concede to your wishes my star, I shall be selfish with your love.’
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lady-ashfade · 11 months
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Jacket obsession
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Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.
Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara
Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.
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Miles Morales:
Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.
“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.
After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.
The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.
He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.
However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.
Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.
He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.
“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”
Hobie Brown
Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.
He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.
Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.
Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.
You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.
Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.
“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”
Gwen Stacy
You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.
She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.
She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.
Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:
“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”
“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”
Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.
Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.
Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.
“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”
Miguel O'Hara
Doesn’t care-Joking.
Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.
He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.
It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.
He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.
But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.
Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.
When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.
“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”
42!Miles Morales
He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.
Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.
Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.
You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.
“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”
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celestialowlbear · 1 month
Note
Could I request NSFW headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin finding out his female s/o who has a praise kink?
NSFW Headcanons for Halsin, Gale, Astarion, & Wyll
Pairings: Halsin x Fem!Reader, Gale x Fem!Reader, Astarion x Fem!Reader, Wyll x Fem!Reader
Summary: BG3 boys realizing you like praise in bed.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Praise. Soft/romantic smut. Established relationship. Some pet names (darling, love, good girl). PiV sex, cunnilingus. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.
WC: 2,000 (around 500 words per character)
A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I had fun with this. It went in a diff direction that I initially intended but I hope you enjoy!
Graphics by @saradika-graphics
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Halsin 🐻
Halsin had a way of instantly making you surrender to him, your body malleable under his strong and practiced hands, knowing exactly what your body needed.
He currently had you under his large body, his lips at your ear whispering sweet nothings as one finger rubbed perfect circles on your aching clit.
“That’s it…such a good girl for me, my heart.”
Halsin was nothing BUT praise, always saying how perfect you were, but something about the way “good girl” deeply rumbled in your ear switched something in your brain, your body automatically arching up to him.
You were desperate for more, desperate to prove just how good you were for him.
Halsin almost seemed surprised by your reaction, chuckling as he gazed down at your flushed face.
“Does that feel good, my flower? Do you want more?”
Oh, he was teasing you now.
You let out a sharp gasp as his finger probed your entrance, not quite giving you what you needed.
“My perfect flower, you are radiant like this. My good, good girl.”
You gripped his massive shoulders, trying to lift your hips, needing his finger, his cock, anything inside you.
Desire pulsed through your body, his praise turning your blood into magma.
“Halsin…please…need you.”
“You’re so wet for me, I can smell your want.”
Halsin removed his hand from your sex, earning a frustrated whine from you.
“You’ve been so good for me, my heart. You deserve more than just my fingers, do you not?” Halsin eyed you, his look predatory as he slowly licked his fingers clean of your arousal.
You nodded eagerly, spreading your legs, eager to let him in.
“I’ve been nothing but good…please, fuck me.”
Halsin couldn’t deny your request, quickly positioning himself between your legs.
He sank into you with one thrust, your vision going blurry at the intense pleasure of his cock nestled deep inside you.
Halsin’s eyes flashed gold as he tried to compose himself, feeling your cunt squeeze around him.
“You are full of surprises.” Halsin groaned, his forehead dropping to yours. “I will never tire of your body and how it makes me feel.”
“Then you best keep reminding me.”
Halsin smiled at your cheeky comment, loving the way your chuckle gave way to a deep moan as he thrusts into you.
Impossible for me to forget, my heart.”
Gale 🔮
Your intimate time with Gale is no less than wonderful, always learning more about one another in the most pleasurable senses.
Something that surprised you tonight, and gave Gale great satisfaction, was the way you reacted to his words of admiration.
Gale is never short on compliments, but something about his particular words tonight was making you swoon and wetter than you’ve ever been.
“Your body is magnificent, not even the Weave itself could conjure something so immaculate.”
Gale muttered these words as he trailed kisses down your torso, stopping when your sharp inhale of breath and the small whine that escaped your lips caught his attention.
Gale smirked inwardly, realizing what was happening.
He had been noticing you reacting to his compliments in bed more and more and figured you had a thing for praise.
You didn’t need to say it out loud, and he was going to give you everything you wanted.
Gale continued down your soft body, worshiping at your altar, knowing he was going to thoroughly enjoy this new knowledge he had of you.
“No one, mortal or God, could ever compare to you and how you make me feel.”
Gale locked his gaze with you as he settled between your legs.
“I am not worthy of such a sight. Just look at you.”
You were embarrassingly wet, his honeyed words turning you on more than his touches.
No one had ever treated you with such reverence.
“Gale…” his name was lost on your tongue as he kissed the side of your thigh.
“You’re so wet…” his pupils darkened as he admired your glistening folds. “Immaculate. I wish I could stay between your legs forever.”
You moaned louder than intended as he began his meal, purposeful movements of his tongue and lips pleasing you like you’ve never felt before.
You gripped his hair, grinding against his face.
In between licks and sucks, Gale continued to mumble flattery into your desperately aching cunt.
Your orgasm was hurling toward you faster than you’d experienced before, crashing over you suddenly and intensely.
It was as if he was casting a spell on you, though no magic was involved in this moment.
Gale continued his feast, moaning into your pussy as your release coated his beard and face.
You melted into the bed, body boneless as Gale crawled back up on top of you.
He gently kissed your cheek, bringing you back to reality.
“Are you alright, my dear? I know my tongue is skilled but I couldn’t help but notice my words had an extra effect on you tonight.”
You smiled, running your fingers through his hair.
“There’s no doubt about the skill of your tongue, in more ways than one.”
Gale laughed, running his hand up your arm.
Then we best not stop here, hm?”
Astarion 🌙
You had been kissing for a while, languidly exploring one another’s bodies with your hands, caressing and finding the spots that made one another sigh in delight.
Astarion was peppering kisses down your neck, his fangs ever so lightly nipping right under your ear.
He felt your body shudder under his touch, a low moan escaping your lips.
Astarion loved how responsive you always were to him, letting him touch and feel you at his own pace.
You seemed especially sensitive tonight, much to his delight.
Astarion hummed against your neck, taking in your scent, his hand tracing up your torso under your blouse.
His mind was clouding with desire, hearing your blood pump in your veins, your soft sighs as he grazed his finger over your pebbled nipple.
“Darling, be a good girl and take this off for me.” Astarion softly commanded in your ear, giving your breast a small squeeze.
Astarion was surprised by the ragged moan that left your lips, your back arching toward his touch.
Astarion lifted his head from your neck, giving you an amused look.
“Does someone like that?” Astarion teased, flashing you a smile.
You stuttered for a moment, embarrassed by what had taken over you.
“Can you…do that again?” You whispered, your embarrassment quickly overcome with desire as Astarion’s hungry gaze held your own.
“Do what, darling? You must be more specific.”
You huffed as Astarion’s eyes shone with amusement. He loved finding out new things about you like this.
“Call me…a good girl.”
Astarion pinned you to the bed in a flash, hovering his lips over yours.
He helped you remove your shirt and your trousers before settling back on top of you.
“Hmm, you liked that?” He once again grazed his fangs on your neck, pressing his hips into yours.
You could feel his erection straining against his trousers, seemingly turned on by this discovery.
“Y-yes.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into your core, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine.
“You like being praised? You like being told how absolutely delicious I find you?”
You whined, grinding yourself up against him.
“Yes!”
Astarion chuckled as you dug your fingers into his curls, bringing his face down to yours in a fiery kiss.
With one hand, Astarion slid your panties down, tracing a finger through your slick folds.
You moaned as he found your clit, rubbing circles that made your mind spin.
“That’s right,” Astarion panted in your ear as you writhed beneath him. “You are so beautiful like this. I can’t wait to be buried inside your perfect pussy.”
“Astarion…I want you inside me.”
He tsk’d in your ear, dragging his fangs down your neck, where he suckled on your collarbone.
“Patience, my darling. I do not want to rush this. I want to see every little expression on that perfect little face of yours. I want to hear every sigh, every whimper, every exquisite moan of my name. And you will be moaning my name, a lot.”
Astarion flashed you a look of determination, smirking before he lowered his head again, taking a nipple in your mouth, and rolling his tongue over the peak.
You whined at the sensation as he expertly suckled and nipped at your tender breast, your body trembling with anticipation, knowing he was going to be true to his word.
Wyll ⚔️
“My love, you were absolutely radiant tonight.”
You reeled at his compliment, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into an intensely deep and romantic kiss.
You both had spent the evening at a Baldurian ball, dancing, drinking, and kissing up to nobles of the city.
Wyll had been nothing short of complimentary all night, never missing a chance to comment on your beauty and how proud he was to have you by his side.
Maybe it was the wine, but his compliments were going straight between your legs.
By the time the ball was over and you were back in your room, your body was burning with need.
You were not used to praise or compliments, and ever since being with Wyll, it was an entirely new experience.
You broke the kiss for a much-needed breath, and Wyll’s eyes were dark with desire.
“I mean it, my love. I have never met someone as astonishingly gorgeous as you. I often pinch myself thinking I’m in a waking dream.”
Desire bubbled between your legs as Wyll brought you into another fiery kiss.
“You are too good to me. You are walking poetry, you are the missing piece of my soul.”
You gripped his shoulders, moaning into the passionate kiss.
Wyll always had a way with words, somehow turning everything into poetry.
The praise he was uttering caused your body to ignite, desire rushing through your veins, desperate for more of his impassioned statements.
Wyll felt one hand wander up and under his shirt, while the other began fumbling with his belt.
Wyll chuckled at your enthusiasm, realizing it was his words that were accelerating your need tonight.
“Wyll, bed, please.” You gasped between urgent kisses, trying to push him back toward your bed.
“Does my dear partner need something of me?” Wyll teased, helping you undo his belt as you began desperately trying to get yourself out of your dress.
You shot him a coy look, smiling. “You know exactly what I need.”
Wyll stripped his clothes as quickly as he could, flinging his boots off to the side as you shimmied out of your dress.
Wyll met you for another intense kiss, laying you back on the bed, his desire apparent as his hard cock slid through your slick folds.
“This is what you do to me.” Wyll moaned into your mouth, your tongues dancing, hands exploring. “Do you feel how hard I am?”
Wyll ground his hips down into yours, kissing your neck, relishing in your moans.
“Y-Yes, I can feel you Wyll, please…” You bucked up against him, needing him inside you, now.
“So good for me, so good to me. That’s right, my love. I’ll give you what you need.”
Wyll pressed into your soaking pussy, his control slipping momentarily as he felt your velvety walls clench around him.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
Wyll paused, looking down at you.
Your face was flushed, chest heaving, borderline desperation in your eyes as you gazed back up at him.
“Y-yes, tell me how I make you feel.” You gripped his shoulders.
Wyll groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, starting a slow pace.
“You make me feel as if I can take on the entire realm. You make me feel safe. You make me feel powerful. You make me feel loved. You make me feel invincible.”
You gripped Wyll’s shoulders, reeling at his words.
“I love you with my entire soul, my entire being. You complete me in every single sense.”
Wyll’s words were true and hot in your ear, his breath becoming more ragged, his words cut with deep moans as he increased his pace.
“Your body is as if it were cut from the same fabric of the heavens. I intend to worship you as such.”
Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and your moans were louder and more desperate.
Wyll pressed a finger to your throbbing clit, hurling you toward your end as your body spasmed around him.
You cried out his name, holding on to him for dear life.
Wyll coaxed you through your orgasm, his praise now unintelligible as blood rushed in your ears.
Wyll’s orgasm was soon after yours, not able to hold back any longer. He moaned your name, his body trembling as he finished inside you.
You both lay there a moment, catching your breaths.
Wyll looked at you, a twinkle in his eye.
“You always did say I had a way with words.” He laughed hoarsely as he rolled off of you, pulling you into his chest. “And if my extra compliments always lead us here…”
You laughed, playfully poking at his chest. “I definitely won’t complain.”
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@thoughts-of-bear as requested 😘
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luxeslore · 4 months
Text
warnings -> 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. f!reader, lots of rich people talk, baby fever, petnames, baby trapping.
felix who genuinely thinks it’s okay if you two have a baby so young… because—no, no. hear me out, darling— you’re both loaded anyway. both from wealthy families with marble floors and enough maids to make up a small country in europe. you two can practically do whatever you want. you’re damn near invincible, as far as he’s concerned.
you’re pained to admit that when you think about it— about having a round belly courtesy of the one ‘n only felix catton to show off, about decorating the nursery in whatever million pound home his parents set you two up in, about the beautiful baby shower you’ll have in the garden. floral pots of fruity tea and pastries on tiers, pastel balloons and bouquets everywhere… it sounds so dreamy, doesn’t it?
finally, you crack one day. your breaking point being the love in felix’s cocoa irises as his larger hand engulfs yours, long fingers gently lacing with your own like the most delicate ribbons on a designer corset. your knees press into the bed on either side of his waist as you sit on him. your pretty skirt fans over the crotch of his jeans, his lower abdomen— all while your chest nearly heaves under the weight of what you’re about to say— “let’s have a baby.”
felix beams. smiles wider than you’ve ever seen before he kisses the back of your hand with exaggerated kissy sounds. and before you know it, you can barely hold yourself together. he has you pinned beneath him— smaller hands pinned to his sweaty chest while his eyes are fixed on your breasts that bounce with every meaningful thrust. each push and pull of his hips is driven by the pure need to knock you up, to be crass. sweet kisses are placed on your drooly lips.
“oh, bambi,” he’ll whisper, as if you’re even coherent enough to pay attention to any syllable that leaves his heated, dangerous mouth; “you’ve made me s’happy.”
you swear he’s never been this deep before, with the head of his cock brushing up on that little spot and surpassing it to nudge up on your cervix. it knocks the breath out of you, makes you babble nonsense and forget about the shotgun wedding you two will be forced to have on the vast but luxurious grounds of saltburn.
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mattyriddlesbitch · 20 days
Note
English is not my first language, so I apologize if this request looks confuse :(
but can you do mean!mattheo × shy!reader and she's soooo needy and horny, but doesn't say nothing, but matty realizes it and make her tell him EVERY LITTLE THING that she wants him to do, and she's so embarrassed and he's just pouting and saying "if you don't tell me what you need i can't do anything, angel" and she's just buring her face in his neck and saying "please" but he doesn't do nothing until she says graphically what she wants. and he's so mean, edging her with his mouth and fingers (maybe some toys if u want) until shes crying, and then he just overstimulate her as fuck!!! (but he also doesn't forget to praise his girl for doing so well!!!!)
i know this is super specific, but my mind is lost in dirty thoughts, I'm sorryyyyy 😔
btw, can i be -🌙 anon?
Yes! You can be 🌙 anon! I hope this works for you!
Guide Me
Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader
Warnings: Oral(female receiving), fingering, cussing, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation.
18+ Minors DNI!
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You had been feeling so needy and desperate all day. Especially now as you cuddle with Mattheo in his bed, surrounded by his scent and warmth and him. You needed him so badly, but were too embarrassed to say anything. You never liked being vulgar about what you want. Even finding it hard to initiate sex. 
Mattheo could tell by your subtle shifting and the way you were clinging to him as you cuddled. But he wanted you to say it. He wanted you to tell him what you wanted.
“You okay, princess?” He asked as you shifted around again for the umpteenth time.
“Yeah.” You said softly, scooting slightly closer, as if that was even possible.
“You’re moving around a lot, are you uncomfortable? Do you need something?” He asked, still feigning ignorance to your horniness.
“No.” You spoke so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it.
“You sure, darling?” He moved your hair so he could see your face better. “Because you just have to say the word, and I’ll help you out, whatever you need.” 
You glanced up at him before looking back down, letting a deep breath out as you debated on saying anything or not. “I need you.” You kept that quiet tone, embarrassed about saying it outloud.
“What do you need from me?” He asked, tilting your head up to look at him.
You realized his little game now, blushing at having to tell him more. “You know what I need.” You say, moving to bury your head in his neck.
“I don’t. You gotta use your words, angel.”
“Please.” You say quietly into his neck.
“Begging me won’t help if I don’t know what you want.” He was teasing you and you hated it. He wanted you to talk dirty to him, tell him everything you wanted.
You groaned softly, not moving away from his neck. “I need you in me, please.”
“How so? You want my mouth, my fingers, my cock? Maybe your little dildo would suffice if you don’t wanna use your words.”
You pulled back to look at him now. “I would like your mouth and fingers please.”
He smiled at you now. “Was that so hard, sweetheart?” He said as he pushed you gently onto your back. He helped you out of your clothes, keeping his touch soft. “Guide me through it, baby. I like hearing you talk dirty.” He settled between your legs, placing soft kisses to your thighs.
“Use your tongue on me, please.” You said softly, still embarrassed, but the way he was looking at you so eagerly helped a little.
He listened and started licking at your pussy, groaning at the taste. You moaned, tangling a hand in his hair. “Like this, princess?” He asked as he looked up at you.
“Just like that, yes.” You nod, throwing your head back.
He continued and you were starting to feel like you needed more, but he wasn’t giving anymore than the licks.
“Need more, Matty. Please.” You begged as you looked back at him.
“What else do you want? You gotta tell me.” He said with a smirk, loving your reaction.
“Your fingers. I need them in me.”
“That’s my girl. Good job.” He said as he pushed his fingers in you, going back to licking at your clit.
You were moaning and cursing at the pleasure, trying to keep your head up to watch him. He was a fucking expert with his mouth and fingers and had your orgasm building quickly.
“Fuck, Matty, I’m so close.” You moaned, throwing your head back again.
He pulled his fingers out and pulled back slightly. You whined, feeling your orgasm get pulled away from you.
“What the fuck?” You asked as you looked back at him.
“I told you to guide me, you didn’t say anything about letting you cum.” He smiled mischievously
“Then make me cum.” You frowned at him.
“How?” He asked with that stupid smile.
That one word would have made you ready to kill him if you weren’t so fucking horny. “The same thing, fingers and mouth.”
“No ‘please’ this time?” He teased.
“Please.” You whined.
He complied and pushed his fingers back into you, bringing his mouth back to your clit. This man drove you insane, but damn, if he wasn’t so fucking good at this. He had you moaning and bucking into his face within seconds, that orgasm that was previously building coming back again.
“Don’t stop, please, don’t fucking stop.” You moaned, holding onto his hair tightly.
He groaned as he kept going, satisfied he got you to talk again.
You came on his fingers and tongue in mere moments, crying out his name as he helped you ride it out. He wasn’t letting up, though. He kept going and made you shake and cry again.
“Mattheo, please.” You cried.
He ignored you, still going. You could feel the tears building as you tried closing your legs on his head. He just used his free hand to push them back open, never letting up. You were crying and your body couldn’t decide if it should buck into his face for more pleasure, or back away to get a break.
“Matty.” You whined his name again.
Again, though, he ignored it, ignoring your pleas. In fact, it felt like he was going faster, harder, deeper. He ripped another orgasm from you, making you scream his name as your body shook almost violently.
And again, he didn’t let up, continuing his assault on your pussy.
“Stop. Please. I can’t” You tried closing your legs on his head, and he backed off, removing his fingers from you before putting them in his mouth to clean them off.
“Look at you. You’re learning how to use your words.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you.
You both moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him as his roamed your body.
“Now, how about I get to guide you with my words?” He smiled at you.
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kenntolog · 16 days
Text
𝝑𝝔 an: it’s been a looong time and i wanted to start from 0 so hey everyone!! enjoy this, and don’t forget to reblog if you do!
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when nanami opens his eyes it takes a few seconds for him to properly understand where is he located, the sleepy haze still trying to tug him back into closing his heavy lids.
he blinks rapidly, recognising the neutral ceiling of his living room, the setting sun’s rays scattered around the room through the curtain covered windows and the soft cushions of the couch under his body. he also remembers how he was so tired that even changing out of his clothes was out of question as he just plopped down onto the first horizontal surface he found available, the thought of dozing off too inviting to ignore.
kento groans lightly, feeling his sore limbs ache as he tries to move them, but the sound is stuck in his throat when he turns his head to find you right by his side.
breath fanning lightly of the side of his face, your cheek smushed against the side of the pillow and your forearms as you kneel on the floor beside the couch, sleeping peacefully like you always do in his presence. he feels guilty when he imagines you coming back home to find him like this as you’re still in your work clothes, and the pain in your neck and back, from sitting like that for so long.
he sits up on the couch as quietly as he can, face cringing at the cracking of his joints. nanami’s eyes focus on your once again as he lets his touch startle you, fingers gliding over your hairline and eyebrows, the slope of your nose, your pouting lips and your relaxed jaw. expression so calm and etheral he almost feels jealous at how comfortable you look sleeping on the floor in a slumped sitting position.
you stir and bury your face in your forearms before inhaling rapidly and lifting your head.
the sleepy smile that stretches over your lips spreads warmth through his ribcage, his heart feeling it particularly well.
kento crouches down by your side, hand now cupping your cheek affectionately, “what are you doing here, my darling?”
“just wanted to sleep with you, ‘nami,” you mutter, barely understandable but nanami always knows what you mean, as you nuzzle deeper into his palm, clearly half asleep and ready to switch off again.
“‘should have woken me up, you know i’d never say no to a nap with you.”
you shuffle closer to him, raising your hands as a sign for him to hug you, but nanami opts on grabbing you under your shoulders and knees and lifting you up. as he hugs you to his chest, nanami feels flowers blooming inside everywhere you touch him, where your hands rest on him.
so sweet, so considerate, so lovely you are, making him smile just by existing by his side and being so good to him. he changes you out of clothes and does the same for himself, leaving the other things from your routine for later to not let the sleepiness get away.
and nanami holds you a bit tighter that evening, the corners of his lips upturned at all times when he’s with you.
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helluvapoison · 2 months
Text
For All to See
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader x Lilith
Lilith has Lucifer and Lucifer has Lilith. Their eyes are well trained for snakes in the garden, they’re able to watch each other’s backs with ease. Everyone wants to know, just who the fuck are you to the King and Queen of Hell?
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
• Technically speaking, they don’t need you
• Your heart lurches at the constant reminders
• Everywhere you look there’s capable hands doing anything you could do, and doing it better
• The guards around the Morningstar estate are appreciated and skilled but merely for show, their wise (albeit chaotic) council of Princes have never led them astray and they have more willing servants than they know what to do with
• It’d be impossible to forget how agonizingly obvious it is that you’re not needed beside them. Occasionally it was a paralyzing thought. You were nothing without them but they could continue on just fine without you
• And Lilith, ethereal, graceful, benevolent Lilith, noticed this. Her own heart ached for you, she loved you!
• You tenderly brushed her hair when she hadn’t even rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Combined with her husband’s efforts, you would make her feel beautiful when her mind told her the opposite. You would be on your feet beside her all day, shooting little thumbs ups that restored her energy when she was nearly depleted. Your unfailing attendance from her concerts to afternoon tea brought a comforting sense of normalcy to the disorder of the realm she ruled
• Lucifer, who loved you no less than she, was furious at himself for not realizing on his own
• You were his alarm clock, gently coaxing him out of bed and making the day seem more inviting than it did when he opened his eyes. You snuck into his room when everyone else (Lilith aside) was banished, claiming only to drop off a tray of snacks but would sit with him for hours on end just so that he wouldn’t be alone. When the world was too big, his own thoughts too heavy, it was you that made him feel bigger and stronger
• And you thought of yourself as inconsequential!?
• Blasphomy.
• They would not let this stand another fucking second
• They covered all their bases, working from the inside out
• You were instructed to join them for a portrait. Lucifer picked your outfit while Lilith did your hair then they sandwiched you between them. It took several hours and you ached from standing still for so long but the painting looked absolutely marvelous. Lilith ordered it to be hung in the lobby
• “Not the bedroom?” You asked quietly, tilting your head up at her
• “As much as I’d love to, no. This needs to be seen by our guests! Besides, I have your darling face right there every morning.” She replied sweetly and kissed your cheek on her way out
• You were utterly floored when you saw a detailed third chair, right to Lucifer’s, in the throne room. Meetings were only held here once a month for the public to bring their qualms to the royals but they took a full day to bring to conclusion. Lucifer’s smile widened at your reaction
• “Do you like it?” He asked knowingly, “It’s for you.”
• “Me? I— yes! Yes, it’s lovely. I just don’t understand, I-I was alright standing.” You blink rapidly, your mind racing to catch up with his words
• “Don’t be silly, dove! These matters are a bore and take eternity. This was long overdue.” Lucifer takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, smiling at you apologetically
• Polygamy wasn’t something to clutch pearls over down here and you were never a dirty secret. Magazines, networks, media just happened to only feature the King and Queen of Hell (Later, Lucifer would always point out the blurry spec that was you behind them or to the side or cut off the page) So when you were yanked between them during their red carpet debut, you stared at the camera flashes like a deer in the headlights. Their grips on either of your hands kept you from floating too high
• While your view on the situation changed drastically, it wasn’t atonement enough for Lilith and Lucifer. They never wanted you to feel immaterial ever again
• “You’re not nothing to us,” Lucifer said, holding your left hand. He hid his face in the crook of your neck where you could feel him smiling against your skin
• “We would never abandon you,” Lilith whispered while slipping a matching golden band around your finger. She had you sitting in her lap, facing away from her. She held your hand up for you to see the new obvious, your next reminder of their devotion for you
• Suffocating on their love for you, you choked back a sob to not ruin the moment. Lilith wrapped her arms around you and Lucifer, bringing you both closer to her heart
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bruisedboys · 5 months
Note
i love ur writing sm 🥹 since we got jealous!finnick can we get jealous!reader and how finnick reacts to it? ❤️
“Baby, come on.” Finnick follows you out of the glass elevator, almost jogging to catch up with your angry march. You speed up pointedly. “What did I do?”
“Nothing, Finnick,” you say sharply, without looking at him. The entire elevator ride was heavy with your silent irritation. You don’t want to talk about it, obviously.
“Well, why are you acting like I did?” Finnick presses.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You— sweetheart.” Finnick snags your wrist and pulls you back. You scowl, annoyed at being pushed around. You struggle in his grip but he only grabs your other wrist, holding you still. It’s times like this that you hate having such a muscular boyfriend.
“Come on,” he says, practically begging with you now. “What’s the matter? I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”
“It’s nothing,” you say through your teeth, still struggling against his grip.
Finnick rolls his eyes and holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your wrists. “Is this about Johanna?”
“What?” You falter in your attempts to escape. It is about Johanna, actually. You’d rather he didn't know that, though. “Why would it be about Johanna?”
Even to your own ears your incredulity sounds fake, your voice a notch too high. Finnick stares at you hard and you look away, burning hot under his gaze. Big mistake.
“So it is about her?” he asks slowly. You can hear the knowing smirk in his voice.
“I don’t—“ you stammer, desperately trying to string together a lie that’s not as embarrassing as the truth. You stare at him and his awful grin for a few seconds, fuming. Then, “Fine, yes, it’s about Johanna. She wouldn’t leave you alone!”
“We talked for ten minutes, honey,” Finnick says, measured to your frantic. “You know she’s just a friend.”
“She called you handsome and then winked at you,” you say, mortified, your act completely forgotten. "What am I supposed to think about that?"
You realise your mistake too late — you’ve given yourself away. You’re about to take it back in an attempt to save yourself from an onslaught of teasing when Finnick laughs.
“So you’re saying I’m not handsome?” He asks, eyebrows raised.
Bastard. You hate him, you swear.
“Never mind,” you say bluntly. “Whatever.”
You twist out of his grasp and stalk off. You’re still absolutely rolling in annoyance when you get to yours and Finnick’s shared room. You get as far as the entryway before Finnick’s on you again like a hawk. He grabs you while you're sliding your shoes off and pushes you none too gently against the nearest wall.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Sure you are. You just laughed at me!" You say incredulously, hitting him in the chest.
“Because you’re being silly, darling," Finnick says. Somehow, he makes it sound affectionate. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Johanna’s a friend. How can you think I’d ever look at anyone else that way when I have you, hm? I’m yours forever, sweet girl."
You blink at him. What is his problem? He laughs at you for being jealous and then says something as life ruining as that? He’s gonna be the death of you one day.
"You really need to stop saying things like that,” you say weakly.
Finnick tilts his head to the side, a knowing look in his ocean eyes. “Why’s that?”
You glare. “You know why.”
Finnick just laughs. “You’re adorable.”
You’re about to tell him to shut up when he kisses you, too fast for you to see it coming, too lovely for you to stop it. His mouth is warm. He tastes like wine. You forget you’re angry at him. When he’s kissing you like this, you have no reason to be jealous. You guess you never really did.
“I’m sorry,” you say when he pulls away. His kiss has unravelled you. Sucked away all your anger and hot jealousy. “For being so mad at you. S’not your fault.”
"It's okay," Finnick tells you, shrugging. He dips down to kiss you again. You push up on your toes to reciprocate his heat, your hand pushing up to love on the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s pulling back before either of you can get too carried away, a smug smile on his pretty mouth as he says, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby."
-
thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it 🤍
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gyuslcve · 11 months
Note
can i request “svt members when their S/O falls asleep on another members lap/shoulder”?☺️
how svt reacts when their s/o falls asleep on another member’s lap/shoulder
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genre: head canons, fluff if u squint
rq: requested by anon!
not proofread
notes: this idea is so cliche (in a good way) and never fails to make me go <333 thank u anon for this rq xx i really enjoyed writing this
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SVT MEMBERS WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON ANOTHER MEMBER’S LAP/SHOULDER
choi seungcheol
✧ i think he’d be conflicted because he doesn’t wanna wake you up but he wants you to lie on him and only him
✧ ends up trying to move you from someone else’s lap to his without waking you up
✧ is very gentle with you, afraid of disturbing your sleep :(
yoon jeonghan
✧ wakes you up and apologises
✧ “sorry darling.. i’m here now, go back to sleep”
✧ you don’t notice it but he looks at you tenderly and smooths your hair
hong joshua
✧ same as cheol, he’d try to shift your head from someone else’s shoulder to his own
✧ once you’re settled on his shoulder he glances down at you every once in a while, making sure you’re sleeping safe and sound
✧ chuckles to himself at your sleeping state (he finds it t o o adorable)
wen junhui
✧ slightly ???? when he sees the situation
✧ doesn’t really mind tbh
✧ shushes the members bc he knows you’re easily woken up by noises
kwon soonyoung
✧ pouts and hopes no one notices (he’s jealous)
✧ wakes you up gently and shifts next to you so you can lie on him instead
✧ instantly wraps an arm around you in a protective manner once you’re by his side
jeon wonwoo
✧ heart melts when he sees you asleep
✧ doesn’t have time to be jealous, he just walks up to you and wakes you up,
✧ “hey baby.. let’s go home yeah? i know you’re tired”
✧ if you insist on staying he’d bring you to his lap so you at least rest comfortably
lee jihoon
✧ doesn’t notice at first - when he does he gets jealous
✧ he tries not to show it but it’s written all over his face
✧ doesn’t wake you up or anything, makes a mental note to talk to you about it when you get home
✧ not from the intention of possessiveness but he wants you to know he’s uncomfortable with it and assures you he will always, always be by your side whenever you need it
xu minghao
✧ almost jumps out of his seat from impulsiveness and then sits his ass back down because he tells himself “it’s not a big deal”
✧ probably would sit there and debate whether he should wake you up or not for at least five minutes
✧ it puts his mind at ease once the thought that you fell asleep on the other member’s shoulder accidentally crosses his mind
kim mingyu
✧ torn between being jealous and heart swelling with affection
✧ lots of thoughts go through his head (while pouting)
✧ what if she gets mad at me for waking her up? w-what if she doesn’t love me anymore ;-;
✧ please give assurance to this big baby
lee seokmin
✧ another ???? member
✧ doesn’t really do anything, first thing that crosses his mind is when you fell asleep the night before
✧ he’s honestly just worried that he’s staying too late and you’re not getting enough rest :/
✧ wakes you up while brushing your hair and asks if you wanna go home
boo seungkwan
✧ man would jokingly make a threatening face at whoever you’re lying on
✧ then proceeds shush everyone in the room
✧ would take off his hat and place it over your head so that it blocks out the brightness
vernon chwe
✧ bro is too busy vernon-ing to notice
✧ not that he’s not paying attention to you.. he’s just vernon yk
✧ only finds out when the member you’re lying on texts him “yo, come get your girl”
✧ chuckles and slowly manoeuvres you into his arms, excuses himself and you from the room and brings you back home <3
lee chan
✧ furrows his eyebrows
✧ somehow shoos the member away and adjusts you onto his lap instead
✧ forgets about whatever conversation he’s having and spends entire night placing occasional kisses on your forehead and holding your hand
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author’s notes: thank you again anon for the rq!! i really enjoyed writing this <3
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miryum · 5 months
Text
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.”
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