rositxespinosa

[rositxespinosa]

I read the prologue and a bit of the first chapter of my new book (which I’m liking so far) but then I fell asleep on the couch 😕

Came upstairs and brushed my teeth so I could get into bed. Unfortunately due to the heat outside, the upstairs of our house is hot. I have my fan on and my door open so the fan at the bottom of the stairs can circulate cool air into my bedroom.

And I’m expecting to start my period soon, so naturally my body is overheating 🥲 this is the second night I’ve slept in nothing but underwear and a tank top with only my top sheet as a blanket. Hopefully I cool down a bit so I can get some sleep ✨

[rositxespinosa]

I needed to see this

(grabs you by the shoulders) you have to make room for new experiences in your life. you have to go through the unpleasant work of leaving your comfort zone, even if just for a few minutes at a time. because if you don't, your brain will trick you into stagnation. you will start to believe that the world can barely fit you in it. but that's not true. it's the opposite way around. you can fit the whole word inside of you. your task is only this: to welcome it with open arms

[rositxespinosa]

[rositxespinosa]

to be read

with one glance - mattheo riddle

summary: a picture's worth a thousand words, and just one manages to say everything you've desperately tried to keep hidden from mattheo.

word count: 4k

a/n: fluff, fluffy, fluffiest, fluff fluff. i'm giggling over it! 🌻

“I did it! I passed!” Pansy shouted as she burst through the common room door.

Mattheo’s eyes tracked her as she marched over to the couches and plopped the folder in her hand on the table in front of him with a flourish.

“And not just passed, top marks!” she said smugly.

He rolled his eyes at her as she spun on her heels and pranced towards the girls dormitory.

“I’m going to tell YN! Drinks on me tonight!” she shouted, her voice echoing as it faded down the stone hallway.

He focused his attention back on the book in his lap, but then his eye caught the folder on the table, and the corners of the pictures that stuck out from it, and his leg began to bounce as his fingers fiddled with the corner of the page he was on.

He glanced back to make sure Pansy was gone.

And then he reached for the folder.

❀ Two weeks earlier ❀

Rain pattered against the windowpanes in the library as you sighed and turned the page of your history of magic textbook, taking a large sip of your coffee. Across from you Pansy’s head lulled in her propped-up hand before she finally surrendered, laying her head on her equally large muggle studies tome.

“If I don’t find something to do my end of term project on I’m going to fail and I am not retaking this class; I don’t even know why we have to study muggles, I mean really…” she said, her voice muffled by the pages.

Theo and Mattheo laughed quietly on either side of you and you smiled at her as she picked her head back up and began flipping through the pages again.

A few moments passed and you refocused your attention, the sound around you dulled to murmurs, the quiet turning of pages, the pattering rain, and the scratch of Mattheo’s quill.

“Ok wait, that’s adorable” Pansy laughed, something between mocking and sincerity in her expression as your eyes flickered up, sure that at this rate you wouldn’t get any studying done.

“What?” you appeased her.

“This chapter’s all about weddings and such and, look, they have this cute little concept of taking pictures for their betrothal– engagement, whatever they call it.”

She turned her book and your eyes skated over a myriad of pictures of couples who were clearly hopelessly in love, ogling over each other, here at the beach, there in a field of flowers.

“That’s sweet” you acknowledged, smiling.

Theo leaned over and let out an unsatisfied grunt.

Mattheo’s attention didn’t waiver from his homework but Lorenzo leaned over him, craning to see.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “Sitting there staring at each other when you’ll take a thousand pictures at the wedding anyway? Their pictures don’t even move.”

You looked up in time to see Pansy roll her eyes before she glanced back down at the page, fingers tracing it and you could see a familiar glint in her eye.

“That’s what I’ll do, I’ll do a little engagement photoshoot. I love photography anyway, it makes sense.”

You nodded assuredly, thinking of the prints that littered the walls of your dorm, of each other, of your friends; your mind wandered to your favorite, intentionally plastered amidst the rest so as not to stand out, of the dark haired boy beside you, your best friend, his curls ruffled as he smiled wide and then stuck his tongue out, a loop you spent more time than you cared to admit staring at.

You smiled thinking about it and willed yourself not to look at him as your cheeks flushed, betraying you.

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Hmm?” you hummed.

“You’ll help? You’ll do it with me?”

“I’m neither engaged nor a muggle, Pansy.”

“No but you’d be sooo perfect, please? And we’ll get someone to do it with you, obviously—"

“—Stare into her eyes in a field of flowers? Steal a sneaky kiss?” Lorenzo said, his hand shooting in the air. “My weekend’s free.”

You laughed and Mattheo’s attention was dragged from his parchment as he sat back and stared at Lorenzo.

“What?” Lorenzo said defensively at his dark gaze. “Surely you’re not going to do it?”

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed.

“Your whole aura doesn’t really give ‘prancing through the flowers’, mate.”

“And yours does?” Theo clarified.

Lorenzo sat back and gestured at himself in defense like the response was obvious.

“I was made for the camera.”

The two of them continued to bicker in whispers back and forth as you watched them and tried to contain your laughter.

“I’ll do it” Mattheo said, just loud enough to be heard over them.

Your head turned quickly to him in surprise.

Lorenzo wasn’t wrong. Mattheo was more than a little stoic, a bit of a closed book, but it was one of your favorite things about him, because you knew when he laughed, when he smiled, when he let his guard down around you, it really meant something.

Pansy glanced to you and him and back again, her smile growing wider.

“Perfect!” she said enthusiastically.

“Don’t come crying to me when you have a roll full of scowls” Lorenzo muttered.

That Saturday you woke to an idyllic late spring morning. The storms had cleared to welcome a perfect blue sky and even though you were tingling with nerves you couldn’t deny your excitement. You dressed in a simple white sundress, let your hair fall naturally and added just a touch of makeup; Pansy had wanted to lean into the whole outdoorsy theme, so you opted to keep things simple.

You wandered outside and just past greenhouse you could see two figures at edge of a large field of wildflowers near the forest and ran to catch up with them.

“Hi! Sorry! I’m here!” you said, a bit flustered.

“No worries!” Pansy said, and she continued talking, but you’d caught Mattheo’s eye as he turned to face you and his face broke into a smile that you knew all too well to be genuine happiness as his eyes traced you.

You smiled back as you looked up at him, appreciating the way his white top clung to his arms, the way the sun was glinting off his chestnut hair, averting your gaze quickly when you felt a familiar heat creeping in your cheeks. When did you think having a fake romantic photoshoot with the friend you were unfailingly in love was a good idea?

“…So yeah just go on then” Pansy said as she gestured to the field and then began fiddling with her muggle camera.

You both looked back at her, your bewilderment clear.

“Gonna need a bit more than that, Pans” Mattheo clarified, his voice scratchy in an early-morning way that had your toes curling in the long grass.

She glanced up and sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“Just take her hand and walk” she instructed, shooing you off.

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised, and reached out his palm. You placed yours in his warm grasp and fell into step with him as he began to walk into the field.

But you didn’t make it three steps.

“You’re meant to be getting married, can you please intertwine your fingers, Riddle, and get a little closer” Pansy yelled.

His hand shifted without pause as he wrapped his fingers in yours, squeezing tightly as he gently pulled you into his side.

“So bossy” he muttered and you laughed, the moment breaking the intense nerves you’d had that you sensed he could feel as he squeezed your hand again.

“Alright, stop there, turn and face each other” Pansy instructed from a distance.

Your feet slowed hesitantly and you could hear the snap snap snap of her camera as you turned to face him and felt like your whole body was your heartbeat, like you could feel your nerves in the tips of your fingers as you looked up at him. He reached for your other hand, holding them both. You glanced down at the gesture before looking up at him and he winked, causing you to smile, to laugh again.

“Hey” he said quietly as your eyes met his. “I know there are loads of guys out there, but try to act a little happy you’re marrying me. For Pansy’s sake” he joked and your eyes grew wide at that.

“I’m not – I’m happy!” you said, unable to articulate why you were so nervous, realizing it was coming across as something else entirely.

“Why don’t we do a couple sitting then?” Pansy said.

“So artsy” you replied, turning to her.

She pointed adamantly.

“Ok! Ok!” you said, dropping down, your dress fanning you as Mattheo sat beside you.

“Closer.”

You sighed and scooched closer, terrified to meet his eyes again.

“Just go ahead and talk to each other or something.”

Mattheo seemed completely at ease and didn’t seem to have any problem staring at you and you felt like he could see through your soul.

Finally, you met his eye, gathering yourself.

“Why’d you agree to do this?” you asked quietly as the camera clicked, releasing the question that has been on your mind since he’d volunteered.

Because I wouldn’t dare let anyone else do this with you, he thought.

He shrugged.

“No plans.”

You pushed his chest playfully and he grasped your hand.

“Perfect! So cute!” Pansy said.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t an act.

Mattheo leaned in and you stopped breathing altogether, certain he was going to kiss you, but then he reached for a wildflower, plucking it before looking back at you and thoughtfully tucking it behind your ear.

“Swoon!” you heard Pansy mutter, her camera clicking away.

“Smooth, Riddle” you said, your voice wobbly as his hand lingered against your cheek.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t an act.

“Alright, don’t kill me—” Pansy said, her voice dragging you away from the look in his eyes, and the feeling of his fingers against your cheek.

“—But is there a way you could like—" she motioned her hands like she wanted you to get closer. Short of crawling into his lap, closer wasn’t an option. You looked up at her, an eyebrow arched.

“Pans?”

“Maybe just make it look like, you know, like you’re going to kiss her, but if I stand here,” she said, moving away from the sun and kneeling down, “we can just make it look that way.”

Both of you paused, looking at her.

“Pleeaasee? I’ll be forever grateful.”

You turned to see him already looking at you.

“We don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable—”

“—It’s fine” you said, probably far too quickly. His lip twitched in a grin.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

It seemed an odd question, but you nodded, of course you did.

In a moment he reached for your hips and pulled you on top of him, the weight of you nearly toppling him over as your arms wound around his neck and his wound around you, holding you steady to him.

Pansy’s camera went wild like it was trying to keep in time with your pulse as you settled on his lap. You could feel his warm breath, his lips inches, centimeters from yours. He moved and pressed his forehead to yours and Pansy had some incredibly happy comment about it, but the world and all of your senses were reduced to just you and him, to how tightly he was holding you, to the smell of his cologne, mixed with wildflowers, like evergreen and summer, to the smell of the winterfresh gum that he favored and the look in his eyes, an unfailing sincerity there that had been there all morning, that was reducing you to a puddle. And then he smiled, the same smile in the polaroid that hung next to your bed, the same one you fell asleep looking at and woke up to every morning…

“Now she’s happy” he whispered, and you realized you were wearing a huge smile of your own.

A heartbeat, two.

Your hands moved to hold his face, to steady yourself, and you knew you couldn’t stay here a second longer without kissing him. But you also knew that kissing him would betray three years of friendship, and feelings that, if not voiced by now, clearly were not reciprocated.

His hand ran up your back and you felt him pull you against him and all you could think was how well he was selling it.

“Matty” you whispered, a plea, a beg, unsure whether you were begging him to keep going or to stop, though you were sure you’d never wanted anything more than this.

“M’gonna kiss you” he said finally.

He said hastily, leaving no time for a reply and then he was pulling you into him fully, his lips drawing yours to his and you couldn’t help the way your body relaxed and sank into him, the way your fingers threaded into his hair, the way you let out a tiny noise you’d never made before as his lips moved over yours like you’d done it all your life, unable to understand how this was the least nervous you’d been all day, because it felt right.

You kissed him back with the passion of three years of thinking about it, not leaving a single thing on the table, because there’d never be another moment to parade it like this again as you wound your tongue into his mouth, flicked his and his grip on your waist felt bruising in reply before he pulled away, fast.

“Fucking fuck” he hissed, holding you at a distance from him as he tried to catch his breath.

“S-sorry!” you replied, trying to catch your breath, to clear your clouded mind, hazy with him as you touched your fingers to your lips, already swollen from his kiss.

“No, do not, don’t apologize—"

Pansy cleared her throat.

And you both turned to see her not even bothering to point the camera, her face gobsmacked.

“Think I got what I need, then.”

“Right!” you said, shifting as Mattheo reluctantly helped you off his lap and you both stood and walked to meet her.

He casually intertwined his fingers in yours, and you held his hand tightly without realizing it. You didn’t let go until you entered the castle.

By the time you were back to the common room, the façade of the morning fell, and with it came a wave of uncertainty, of regret.

Mattheo slid onto the couch with your friends and you made your way, head down, to your room as Pansy followed quickly after you.

She was unusually quiet as she set her camera down and sank into her chair, watching you as you moved about the room, fussing, folding laundry, tying your hair up only to let it down again.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

Your movements faltered and you sighed.

“M’fine” you said quietly.

“That was …”

“Yeah. Well... I hope you do really well on your project.”

She knew you were being genuine, she knew you meant it, and that made her feel even worse than she already did, because even though you'd never voiced it, she knew exactly how much Mattheo meant to you.

“It looked real, YN. I mean the way he was looking at you all morning” she tried, reaching for her camera.

You shook your head.

“I don’t – it’s not like that” you said, shaking your head as she offered the camera to you. “Please. He was doing us a favor, plain as.”

You moved to bathroom and closed the door, and Pansy stared at the camera, flipping through the pictures for a long time.

Mattheo lay in bed that night and all he could think was how fucking stupid he’d been.

The second you’d come back to the common room you’d been off, and the rest of the day you’d kept him at an arms’ length. He’d pushed way too far when he kissed you, and clearly it’d made you uncomfortable.

… But the way you looked at him… The feeling of the warmth of your body against him, your fingers in his hair, the way you’d whispered his name…. he’d thought…

It didn’t matter.

Clearly he’d read the signs all wrong. And even that perfect fucking kiss wasn’t worth it because now you wouldn’t even look at him. He shoved his head in his pillow and groaned.

❀ Present ❀

Mattheo had been reading and re-reading the same sentence when Pansy burst into the common room, going on about her project.

He hadn’t forgotten about it, couldn’t forget the way you’d looked surrounded by that field of flowers in your white dress. It shouldn’t have done to him what it did but for the life of him he couldn’t stop thinking about it, the way you’d looked at him, the way the wind rustled your hair, the soft cotton of your dress, the feeling of your fingers in his, your weight in his lap, your fingers in his hair, your tongue... it plagued him. But he had forgotten completely about Pansy, about the project, about the pictures.

So when she left he reached for the folder with eager hands and six polaroids fell out alongside a scrap of parchment.

He flipped the pictures over and his heart stilled to a muffled beat.

The photos didn’t move, but in a way it made them more ethereal, like you were frozen in time, like had a piece of you, a moment that would never be the same again.

Him, with his fingers in your hair, tucking a flower there, how you’d teased him that it was for show, when it so clearly wasn’t.

Your tangled hands.

You in the summer sun glowing like a fucking angel. He refused to put that one back, holding it close to his chest instead.

Two others caught his eye. One of him, alone, clearly listening to something you were saying off camera, he stared at it and realized he looked like a lovesick puppy, like just how down bad he was might well have been written across his forehead. Am I that obvious? he thought.

But the last one.

It was one he didn’t even remember taking, both of you hand in hand, his back was to the camera but your expression was clear, you were glowing, you were looking at him like he hung the damn moon and stars, your eyes sparkled, and he loved it. He loved you he thought.

He looked back and forth between your expression and his and he replayed how you’d looked that day in his mind.

Why’d you agree to do this? you’d asked, like you didn’t already know.

Smooth, Riddle you’d said, begging him to tell you it wasn’t an act, though he couldn't find the words to.

And it was like he was solving a puzzle he’d been working on for three years; all the times you’d shied away from his gaze, the times you’d turned down dates with other guys or laid your head on his shoulder, it was always exactly what he’d thought it was, exactly what he wanted it to be.

He reached for the piece of parchment then, eyes scanning it quickly as he smiled, grabbing it alongside the polaroids before following quickly in Pansy’s footsteps.

Your door was open and he could hear your voices echoing as he moved to stand in the doorframe. You were seated cross-legged on your bed, textbooks open in front of you as Pansy chatted to you, walking around the room.

You looked up at him, surprise evident on your face; you’d been keeping your distance and until now he’d been respecting it.

“Oh” you said simply.

Pansy turned to see him, glancing at the messy bundle of pictures in his hands, and the expression on his face as he stared wide eyed at her best friend.

“Ha, yup, I’ll give you two a minute” she said as she brushed by him.

“Pans!” you whispered after her as you scrambled to your feet.

“Can I talk to you, please?” he asked.

“…Sure” you said hesitantly, not meeting his gaze as you leaned against your bed, eyes darting to your feet, unsure if you could ever look in his eyes again and see anything but his expression after you’d kissed, something you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life chasing.

He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at the pictures in his hands.

“Remember when you asked me why I offered to do Pansy’s project with you?”

Your eyes flitted up as his chosen topic of conversation.

“Yeah” you said quietly.

“Well – it’s… I thought – when she said – I mean for the longest time I…” he muttered. “Fucking hell. Here” he said, moving to your bed and dumping the polaroids there.

You glanced up at him before focusing your attention on the pictures.

You pulled one then another towards you, turning them so you could see them, analyzing them quietly, your fingers tracing over the frames, and stopping to rest on the one of you looking at him, the same one that had told him everything he needed to know, the answer to every question he’d asked himself for years clear on your face.

Your cheeks heated. Gods I look smitten, you thought and you felt your whole body blush.

In response he pulled the one of him next to it, the one where he was looking off camera at you, totally and completely enthralled and you bit your lip to keep from crying because you still weren’t sure what he was trying to say. We’re really good actors? Something more? And then he pulled the piece of parchment out of his pocket and spread it next to them. It was a note from Pansy’s professor.

Excellent, Pansy. Your talent with the camera is exceptional and you captured the essence of this milestone moment clearly. These two? They remind me of Mihri Hatun, ‘At one glance I loved you with a thousand hearts’. Beautiful!

You read the words and you felt a tingle throughout your body as the small hairs on your arm stood at attention and you looked up at him again.

“At first, I offered to do it because I didn’t like the idea of Enzo drooling all over you. But, selfishly? I wanted to know what it’d feel like, to pretend, for a while, that I could be something more than a friend to you, that you could look at me that way. But…” he looked back at the picture of you, “you kinda are looking at me that way. And Merlin, if you could put ‘down bad loverboy on a poster that picture of me would be it.’

You laughed despite the sincerity of the moment.

“And that kiss, I didn’t mean– didn’t intend for it to be like that… but you kinda kissed me like you didn’t mind…”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I didn’t think—” You tried to form a coherent thought but couldn’t as your eyes drifted back down to the picture of him looking at you, feeling the way it permeated you, warmed you.

He reached for your other hand, tangling your fingers in his. And he tugged, emboldened now by what he knew as he reached a hand to cup your face and then dipped his head, pausing for a second, maybe just to be 100% sure that this was what you wanted as his lips ghosted yours.

You tiptoed yourself to him, pressing your lips to his. His arms encircled you eagerly and lifted you up to him as you wound your legs around his waist and you smiled and laughed against his lips.

“I’ve been looking at you like that for the last three years, YN. M’glad you finally noticed.”

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @revesephemeres

[rositxespinosa]

I’m having a bit of an anxious morning. I believe it’s being caused by 2 things: pre-period hormone changes, and feeling increasingly overwhelmed by the things I’ve been putting off. So, I started by bringing up my clean laundry from the laundry room (it’s been there for far too many days) and I started one load of laundry that I wanted to do before Friday. Honestly, doing that made me feel slightly better. Today will consist of working on doing the things I’ve been putting off, and being gentle with myself while I do it 😌

[rositxespinosa]

🌻🌼🌷🌸🏵️🌹🌺💐🍀

Some flowers for anyone not feeling their best today

[rositxespinosa]

um guys, I think we need to stop waiting for ‘the right time’ and just start doing the things we want whenever because the right time’s never gonna come, and if we keep waiting it’s just gonna turn into an endless cycle

[rositxespinosa]

sometimes rest is the most productive thing you can do for yourself

[rositxespinosa]

oh my gosh yes!

this is going to be so perfect!

‿‿‿ sea captain!mattheo riddle ✮⋆˙

With wide shoulders and arms toned from the relentless labor of the sea, he had a devilish smirk and the rebellious streak of someone intimate with the fear of the salt spray, the black waves and every shadow that slithered beneath them. His plan was simple. Spend a season on the frozen waves off Dutch Harbor, catch as much as possible, make as much money as possible, and don't fucking die. Easy enough. Until he met the only thing that scared him more than his rig tipping in a tidal wave: you.

── works ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆ the salt & shadow - coming soon

[rositxespinosa]

<3

Plus one: Mattheo Riddle and comfort after a nightmare but instead of you having it, can it be fem reader comforting him after one? Love your writing so much!!! 🩷

thank you so much love!! and i absolutely adored this prompt!

The knock wakes you-soft, frantic, like someone trying not to wake the rest of the castle. You already know who it is before you open the door.

Mattheo stands there, shirt clinging to his chest, breathing uneven, curls damp at the temples like he’d been sweating. Not from heat.

From fear.

“Can I-” he starts, then stops. His jaw twitches. His eyes-usually sharp, unreadable-look lost in a way that steals your breath.

You don’t ask what the dream was. You only reach for his wrist and tug him inside, wordlessly.

He follows.

The bed creaks beneath his weight, his hand still clutching yours like an anchor. He won’t look at you at first. Just stares at the blanket between you both like it’s made of glass.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbles, voice hoarse.

“You didn’t,” you lie. “I’ve been waiting.”

That makes his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. He exhales, broken and shaky, and lets his head fall to your shoulder.

He’s warm. Solid. Still trembling a little.

You whisper something soft against his curls, fingers trailing through his hair until his breathing starts to slow.

“They’re not real,” you murmur, “whatever it was-you’re here. You’re safe.”

“I hate how real it feels,” he murmurs. “Like I’m still that person.”

You press your forehead to his. “You’re not. You’re this one. The one who came to me.”

And he-Mattheo Riddle, who doesn’t flinch in duels, who snarls instead of speaks when cornered-wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing keeping the dream from dragging him back under.

You don’t let go. Not even when he finally falls asleep again, his breath slowing beside your heart.

Not even when dawn begins to climb through the curtains.

[rositxespinosa]

VEE!!

I re-read the prologue and I fell in love with this au again, and then I read this and I am officially hooked!

I have such a soft spot for reader already. She deserves to be happy and with someone who loves and cherishes her. I am so excited to see how this plays out!

And can I please be added to this fic's taglist? Thank you! <3

the knight's favor - knight!mattheo riddle (pt. 1)

summary: “I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about this, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

word count: 2k

a/n: yes knight!mattheo is now a series. yes, i am completely obsessed with it. i hope you come to love these two as much as i do!

 »-♡→ prologue

You squirmed in the stifling heat of the spectator’s box.

The prince was suffocatingly close to you, pawing at you in the cloying heat in a way that made your skin crawl just as much from his touch, his proximity, as from the way the fabric of your dress stuck to your skin.

He grasped your hand tightly, uncomfortably, as he smiled and waved to patrons, members of the court and the knights that rode by for the joust, a practiced smile plastered to his face despite the crude comments and criticisms he muttered under his breath.

You had been watching the festivities for hours at this point, but despite your own manufactured smile, your eyes never left the group of knights as you scanned and searched them with increasing persistence for Mattheo.

Each round that had passed had left you feeling more and more anxious; whether it was the heat of the day or the rowdiness of the crowd, the competition had become bloody and brutal, with one of the last knights being dragged unconscious from the ring, his arm twisting grotesquely in a way that had you averting your eyes as the prince stood and cheered. He had called for the joust, demanding that all enlisted knights participate or suffer punishment, ‘a celebration of our pending marriage’ he’d said, though you had no idea how any of this honored you.

Finally your eye caught the glint of black armor, obsidian against the late afternoon sun and you sat a little straighter in your seat, craning ever so slightly to see him better as his horse rode around the arena to deafening cheers, clearly already a crowd favorite.

You rarely saw Mattheo in his full gear anymore and your pulse quickened in appreciation for the way the leather and metal hugged his large frame, the way he rode effortlessly with his helmet tucked under one arm, a cocky smirk on his face as he drank in the attention and affection from the crowd.

He slowed as he approached the grandstand that held members of the court and your stomach roiled as nearly every maiden launched themselves out of their seats and waved their favors eagerly at him, shouting his name. His smile was beguiling as he nodded and waved to each of them and ran a hand through his dark brown curls, which garnered another wave of high-pitched screams.

Your knuckles were white as they squeezed the arms of the ornate chair beneath you and your leg jostled anxiously beneath the folds of your dress. And like he could sense your discomfort, always so attuned to your every emotion his eyes drifted over the crowd to your box and found yours. He smiled softly and never broke your gaze as he turned and rode slowly in your direction to the great dissatisfaction of the many women who shouted after him.

He stopped in front of the box, and looked quickly to the prince, inclining his head.

“Your majesties” he said respectfully.

You stood, dropping the prince’s hand carelessly as you walked towards him and began to untie an emerald ribbon, the same color as his shield, from the lace of your dress, near your collarbone.

Not a person in the arena noticed but you that Mattheo’s eyes widened as they followed the path of your fingers, that the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with the heat of the day.

“Your highness—” he tried to say, to stop you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do or what not to do, but then you were leaning forward precariously over the balustrade and he had no choice but to lean into you too, to remain perfectly still even as he was clouded with your perfume, as your hair tumbled over your shoulders brushing his armor, the ends tickling his cheek, as your chest fell perfectly level with his eyes in a way that had him averting his gaze, though not nearly quick enough. And then your fingers brushed his neck, his collar as you affixed your ribbon there, taking your time as you looped and threaded it into his armor.

His eye caught yours and you held his gaze for two heartbeats longer than you should of before you spoke, softly, closely, to be heard over the crowd.

“I place my trust in your valor and skill. Take this token of my favor, may this small gift bring you luck and guide your hand.”

The words were spoken and yet you didn't move, stilling in front of the court, the gods, the prince and everyone close enough to kiss him...

...And fuck if he wasn’t thinking about it, the way your eyes held his like they could say more to him than you ever could: I’m worried about you, be careful, and something else that ran deeper, in the way your own cheeks were flushed, in the way your chest was rising and falling, in the way he swore your eyes flitted to his lips before you smiled, your real smile, not the one he watched you wear every day in court, but the one he told himself was reserved just for him. And then you leaned back, letting him go.

The crowd cheered as Mattheo took off at speed, pulling his helmet on. You were faintly aware of an undercurrent of whispers and as you turned to face the prince you saw a sneer on his face that betrayed exactly what he was thinking for the first time that day.

You sat next to him and he grabbed your hand, intentionally crushing your fingers with his grasp and holding tighter when you tried to pull away.

His plastered smile was back but he growled at you under his breath.

“Was. That. Really. Necessary?” squeezing your hand tighter with each word.

Your blood chilled with concern. The prince was demanding, he was a dick, he was petulant and he pushed things too far but you'd never seen him properly angry, at least, not at you.

What had come over you? What were you thinking?

You swallowed.

“It’s common practice for the lady of the house to offer a favor to the strongest competitor. And he’s our strongest, no?”

A pause. But you could see the curl of his lip. He wouldn’t admit it, even if you both knew it was true.

“If you were a knight, if you were competing, my favor would go only to you" you lied.

He didn’t even look at you.

That didn’t help.

Much to your satisfaction Mattheo crushed his competitor, and for the first time that day you were the one out of your seat cheering alongside everyone else as he tore his helmet off and roared in celebration, pumped full of adrenaline as he tossed it and took a victory lap around the arena.

Your heart soared to see him competing, fighting, doing what he was born to be so good at, and you felt guilty for only a moment that he had been resigned to tedious days following you around the castle.

The crowd continued to clap and cheer and a smaller section had broken into song but as you looked back at the prince you realized he was the only person in the entire arena who was still seated. Silent. Staring at Mattheo.

It wasn’t until much later, after the banquet and several rounds of celebratory drinks that Mattheo was able to find a way to be alone with you, a skill he was as practiced at as he was with his sword, as he swiftly convinced your guard that he would walk you back to your chambers, even though he was technically off duty.

Though off duty at this point was only a matter of pay, as he doubted he could ever share a space with you and not be keenly aware of your every movement.

Even though he’d thoroughly enjoyed the night and the simmering adrenaline from being back in the arena, he was aware that the prince was in a mood, which wasn't altogether unusual, but it seemed to be directed at you in a way he didn't like.

And he didn't like the way you averted your eyes from all conversation, the way you pushed your food around your plate, and didn't eat anything, not even your favorite dessert.

And when he noted that the more the prince drank, the handsier he got with you to the point you were nearly squirming out of your seat he thanked the gods that you excused yourself, which saved him the effort of shearing the prince's head from his body.

You were walking quickly, marching really but when Mattheo fell into step beside you your feet slowed and he was sure he saw your body relax, the tension lowering your shoulders as a slow smile spread across your face despite the fact that you didn’t turn to look at him.

You continued in amiable silence, appreciating the stolen moment alone, and he waited until you were nearly at your room and out of earshot before saying anything.

“You shouldn’t have done that" he murmured.

“Whatever are you talking about?” you replied, smirking.

“Today, your favor.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes even as your posture tightened.

“I’m not sure why everyone is up in arms about it, it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to offer her favor for her chosen competitor.”

He shook his head, as he carded his hand through his hair.

You weren’t wrong, but he’d heard the whispers, had seen the way people looked at him tonight, had seen the way the prince looked at him tonight. It had become abundantly clear that he’d gotten too comfortable, complacent with what it meant to be close to you.

Then again… maybe he was reading too far into it all? To think that what you had done was anything more than acknowledge that he was a strong competitor? In fact... had he been too forward just now in telling you what he thought? His head spun and it ached and he realized he was more drunk than he'd thought, and he was grateful to be at your door as he leaned against the doorframe for reprieve as you moved to open it.

But your hand paused on the iron handle, and you glanced up at him, and for the second time that day every inch of his body was at attention in your proximity as you looked at him with that same damn look in your eye and his heart melted as his lips smirked at you.

“For what it’s worth, Sir Riddle—” you said, addressing him teasingly as you let go of the handle and reached to gather the silhouette of your dress. You pulled it up and his eyes darted there and he swiftly forgot how to breath as you revealed your ankle, your calf, your knee and then your thigh and he swayed a little bit and was about to tell you that you should stop before he caught sight of an emerald ribbon knotted in a bow around your thigh, the same color as the one you’d tied to his armor that now sat in his pocket, the same color as the crest he wore on his shield, only this one sat against your skin, your perfect soft skin, your leg, your thigh, your inner thigh...

“—I always carry you with me" you whispered, and he pulled his eyes from beneath your dress to meet yours, "so it seemed only fair that you carry a bit of me with you.”

He could feel his body shaking with temptation, with fear, with the realization that what had transpired between you had gone far beyond playful banter, stolen glances, and a wish he’d held in his heart but never thought could come true.

And despite years of careful restraint, his hands betrayed him as he reached for you, moving to cup your face, to pull you towards him, his rough callouses brushing against your cheeks as your own hands came to cover his and you leaned into him, easily, without hesitation.

Your eyes fixed on his lips, and you were right there, a breath away, your eyes begging, pleading for him to kiss you...

"Dolcezza" he whispered, sliding into his native language as he grappled with a way to properly express himself.

...And then laughter reverberated down the hall that broke both of you out of the moment as you jumped and stepped back, slipping out of his grasp looking at him reluctantly as your hand covered your mouth, tracing your lips, before you shook your head.

“G-goodnight, Mattheo” you said quickly, darting into your room and gently closing the door behind you.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as slumped to the floor and let his head fall against your door where he sat the rest of the night.

 »-♡→ part two - coming soon!

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco @wybieivy @itznotsophia @cipheress-to-k-pop @aur0ral1ghts @voidofsunlight @diorandcigaddict

[rositxespinosa]

Gosh I love how soft he is for reader! I love them so much, and reading this drabble made me happy, so thank you <3

last one I promise!

prompt 268: "kiss me" with post apocalyptic leader!mattheo for the one year anniversary event!

title; here with you (Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader)

prompts; “kiss me” — from three hundred assorted dialogue prompts 

warnings; apocalypse leader!mattheo, apocalypse au, previous sexual incounters, matt has a soft spot for reader, soft!mattheo, but that’s it?? (403 words)

one year masterlist | main masterlist

— come celebrate my one year!!

Mattheo had just finished up his group meeting for the week, going over what he wanted done for the coming week and handing out jobs that needed done.

you watched him from your seat, amusement plastered across your face as he moved towards you, helping you to your feet and out the meeting room towards his room.

the walk was quiet, save for the rest of the group in the distance, getting quieter the further you and Mattheo got.

once inside his room, you offered a smile as you sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he shrugged off his jacket with a tired sigh. 

“you okay?”

he hummed, setting his jacket aside before he reached for the bottle of water sat on his dresser—that he most definitely did not use. 

“tired, long day”

you held your hands out to him, earning a small chuckle as a smile tugged at his lips. 

day by day, you were slowly breaking down Mattheo’s walls, carving your own space in his heart. not that he was complaining of course. 

quietly, he moved towards you. his fingers laced with yours as he stood between your legs. 

“kiss me”

you whispered, making him pause as he eyed you cautiously. 

but he found nothing but sincerity in your eyes. 

with a shake of his head, he leaned in to kiss you—softer than most of the kisses he gave you. you smiled against his lips, holding his face in your hands with a softness that threatened to make his walls come crumbling down. 

the thing with Mattheo was, kisses always managed to calm him down. something you’d figured out during your exploration of whatever was happening between you both. 

after a minute, he pulled away, only enough to meet your eyes. 

“better?”

you asked softly, earning a nod from him. you hummed, stroking a thumb across his cheek. 

“much better, thank you”

he leaned in, kissing you again before sitting on the bed by your side, pulling you into him with a soft sigh. 

looking up at him, the frustration from his meeting was gone, now replaced with that side of him that only you managed to bring out of him. 

“just stay with me awhile, please?”

you couldn’t say no, even if you wanted to. Mattheo needed you, and you were more than happy to stay with him as long as he needed. 

“always, whatever you need”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[rositxespinosa]

oh my gosh

i'm sweating and it has nothing to do with how hot it is outside

── .✦ military!mattheo fucking you in his uniform

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, slight dacryphilia (?), cmnf, swearing

you don’t hear him coming.

one second, you're reaching up to grab a glass from the cabinet, and the next, he’s there—pressed against your back, arms winding tight around your waist, his broad chest solid and unyielding as he breathes in deep at the crook of your neck, the heavy weight of him swallowing you whole. it’s barely been half an hour since he got home—the clinginess is expected.

"fuck," mattheo rasps, voice like gravel. "can't fucking be away from you. tried—tried to keep my hands to myself for a little longer, but i can’t."

his hands drag down, slow, deliberate, rough palms mapping your body like he's memorizing you all over again. his belt clinks as he presses closer, and you can feel him—thick and heavy against your ass, barely contained by his uniform.

"took the words right out of my mouth," you murmur, tilting your head as his lips graze your skin, breath warm and uneven. his stubble scratches along your jaw, a reminder that he’s real, that he’s here, and your stomach clenches with anticipation.

"yeah?" he nips at the shell of your ear, his hands slipping under your shirt, palms greedy against bare skin before sliding the shirt up and off of you. "you been missing me that bad, angel?"

"you have no idea."

his chest rumbles with a low, pleased hum, hands squeezing at your now naked tits. "been touching yourself while i was gone, hm? slipping those pretty fingers inside, pretending they were mine?"

heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your spine. you hesitate, and that’s all he needs.

"oh, baby," he drawls, dragging a hand up to wrap around your throat, not tight, just there, thumb stroking over your pulse. "bet you made such a mess of yourself thinkin’ about me. bet you came so fuckin’ pretty."

his other hand moves, fingers slipping past the waistband of your shorts, teasing along the damp fabric of your panties. "but not as good as when i do it, huh?"

"n-no," you whisper, legs trembling.

he chuckles, dark and satisfied. "good girl. now, c’mon—gonna take care of you properly."

before you can process it, he’s lifting you like you weigh nothing, spinning you in his arms and setting you down on the kitchen counter. the cold marble bites into your skin as he tugs your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, his rough hands guiding your knees apart, spreading you open for him, leaving you entirely bare and vulnerable while he’s still dressed in his uniform.

his gaze darkens, hunger carving sharp lines into his already severe features. he drinks you in like a dying man, eyes unable to leave your glistening pussy. "i think this sweet little cunt missed me as much as i missed her."

his fingers trail up your thighs, slow and taunting, before wrapping around his belt. the sound of the buckle unfastening makes your breath hitch, and then he’s unzipping his pants, freeing himself with a low groan.

he’s so hard it looks painful, tip flushed and leaking as he wraps a hand around his cock, lazily stroking as he watches you squirm.

“you gonna be good for me?

"yes—yes, please, mattheo—"

he grins, wolfish. "so fuckin’ polite. what happened to my brat, huh? where’d she go?" his cock slides through your slick folds, the thick head tapping against your clit, making you clench. "thought you’d be givin’ me a hard time."

"mattheo," you whimper, hips jerking as he keeps teasing, keeps sliding his cock over your pussy, over and over, never giving you what you need. your head falls back, frustration tightening your muscles. "please. please, just—"

he groans, grip tightening on your thighs. "fuck, you beg so pretty. c'mon, baby. tell me you want me to fuck you raw."

there’s not a single tremble of hesitation in your voice. “i want you to fuck me raw.”

his cock twitches in his hand. he leans forward, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping to something almost mocking, almost sweet. "yeah? after all this time, think you can take me without any prep? think this greedy little cunt can handle it?"

his words send a shiver down your spine, a sharp pulse of need tightening in your stomach. "yes," you breathe. "i can take it."

he exhales a harsh breath, running his cock along your slick again, pressing just the tip inside before pulling back. "gonna split you open, baby. make you feel me for days. you want that?"

"want it so bad—please, please, mattheo—"

he chuckles, something dark, something smug. "such a desperate little thing. fine. but you better take every inch."

he lines himself up and pushes in, slow, making you take every thick inch until he’s buried deep, your walls stretching around him. a broken moan slips past your lips, hands gripping the edge of the counter as your body trembles beneath his.

mattheo lets out a strangled groan, head dropping forward. his hands find your waist, gripping tight as he starts to move, each thrust deliberate, dragging pleasure through every nerve in your body. he watches you—watches the way your eyes flutter, the way your lips part, the way your breath stutters with every push and pull of his cock.

"look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with reverence. "my beautiful little slut."

he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. "gonna fill you up, baby. gonna make you mine all over again."

his thrusts turn rougher, deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you open. you’re gasping, moaning, eyes shining with unshed tears as pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

"please," you whimper, and he groans, tilting your chin up to catch a tear on his tongue, groaning at the taste. another tear falls and he licks it off your cheek in record time.

"fuck, i missed you," he breathes against your lips. "gonna make you cum, sweetheart. then i’m gonna fill you up—gonna breed this pretty little pussy until you’re dripping."

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles as his thrusts turn punishing, precise. your body locks up, pleasure cresting so hard it leaves you breathless, your release hitting you in waves as he fucks you through it.

mattheo doesn’t stop.

he groans, chasing his own high, thrusts turning erratic as he buries himself deep one last time, spilling inside you with a shuddering moan. he stays there, holding you close, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your jaw, your neck, your lips.

"i love you, angel," he murmurs, voice hoarse.

his cock twitches inside you, and his lips curl into a smirk against your skin. "think you can give me another one, baby?"

m.list

[rositxespinosa]

he's so soft for reader. it makes my heart flutter! i'm obsessed <3

for military what if he was off on a mission for a long time and he finally comes back home to you and its just so so so sweet?? like reader would just be showering him in affection and trying to reassure him and he’s just physically clinging onto reader like a sloth

── .✦ military!mattheo coming home after a long mission

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, kissing

the front door barely creaks open before he’s there, dropping his duffle bag with a dull thud, boots kicking it aside as he stumbles forward like a man possessed.

“baby.”

it’s barely a word, barely even a whisper, but you hear it—feel it, like the weight of him crashing into you the second you step closer. his arms wrap around you so tight it knocks the breath from your lungs, his entire frame pressed against you, clinging to you like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. his face is buried in your neck, and you can feel how deep he’s breathing, like he’s trying to pull you into his lungs, into his bloodstream, like he needs you to live.

“you’re home,” you murmur against his shoulder, your fingers threading through his grown-out curls, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. “i missed you so much, matty.”

he doesn’t say anything. just shakes his head, his grip tightening, his hands pressing harder against your back like he can somehow fuse you together. his uniform smells like gunpowder and earth, but beneath it—beneath the months of distance and longing—you can still smell him.

“let me see you,” you whisper, gently nudging at his jaw until he lifts his head, his tired brown eyes drinking you in. his face is rough with stubble, his skin sunburned in places, lips chapped. he looks exhausted. he looks beautiful.

“you look so good, baby,” you tell him, smoothing your hands over his cheeks, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the scar near his temple that wasn’t there before. his eyelids flutter shut when you kiss it, when you whisper, “my perfect boy.”

his breath shudders out of him, and when he opens his eyes again, there’s something glassy about them. something raw. “god, i—” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head again like he’s trying to physically shove the emotions back down. he’s always been like this. never letting himself feel too much, never letting the world see when it gets to him. but you know. you always know.

“it’s okay,” you murmur, lips brushing against his. “you’re okay.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and before you can say anything else, he’s kissing you. hard. desperate. his hands are everywhere—tangling in your hair, sliding down your back, gripping your waist like you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“missed you so fucking much,” he breathes against your lips, forehead pressing against yours, his thumb stroking over your cheek like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

“i know,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his curls, pressing soft, soothing kisses to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “i’m here, matty. i’ve got you.”

he lets out another breath, shaky and uneven, and when you take his hand and guide him toward the couch, he follows without hesitation. the second you sit down, he’s on you—practically in your lap, arms wrapped around your waist, head tucked beneath your chin like a fucking sloth.

“matty,” you giggle, running your fingers through his curls, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“shut up,” he grumbles, burrowing closer, his arms locking around you tighter. “just lemme hold you.”

“not going anywhere, baby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, his temple, his cheek. “i’ve got you.”

he sighs against your skin, and after a long moment, you feel his entire body relax, all the tension melting from his muscles, his weight completely pressing into you.

“yeah,” he breathes. “yeah, you do.”

m.list

[rositxespinosa]

reaching the angsty part of the fic that I chose for the angst

[rositxespinosa]

summer refreshment 🫧 ☕️ ✨

[rositxespinosa]

holy shit this was hot as hell

thank you Leona for creating military!mattheo and making me want him each time you write for him <3

── .✦ phone sex with military!mattheo

warnings: masturbation, dirty talk, phone sex lmao note: i was saving this for an event but oops here you guys go anyway!

you’re gonna die in this car. that’s all you can think at this moment.

sweat sticks to your back like a second skin, your bare ass practically glued to the cracked leather seats as you slump further down, one leg kicked up on the dash and the other bent at the knee, heel hooked lazily over the steering wheel. the sun’s been burning all day, turning the interior into a fucking sauna, with the ac doing absolutely fuck-all to help, just wheezing out hot, stale air like it’s given up too.

your tank top’s rolled down beneath your tits, nipples hard and glossy with sweat, stomach rising and falling in jagged little pants. your phone’s pressed to your ear with a trembling hand, fingers still sticky with your own slick from earlier. you already came once, and he wasn’t even trying.

it started off innocent. just a text after the grocery store, a throwaway comment about how the heat wave was making you feral. he teased you, something about missing the sound of your whining. and yeah, fine, maybe you escalated it. maybe it was your fault things got vulgar. maybe you shouldn’t have asked if it was so wrong to be imagining his dick in your mouth.

but then he sent a photo: his cock straining against his abs, fingers wrapped tight at the base, veins popping like he was angry, and followed it with: “if you’re really not wet right now, send me a picture of that pretty cunt to prove it.”

and that was it. you called him instantly.

“tell me what you look like, baby,” he orders now, voice deadly and so fucking smug, and your neck jerks to the side like you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

“‘m so wet, matty, makin’ a mess all over your seat,” you mumble, words sticky and slurred through moans.

you hear the sharp inhale on the other end, like he’s clenching his jaw so tight his teeth might snap. but he’s already gone — he was gone the second he heard your breath hitch when the call connected.

“you know i’m gonna make you clean that shit up with your tongue when i’m back,” he growls, the sound of his slick fist pumping his cock echoing down the line, fast and furious now. “you just wait. face down in the driver’s seat, ass up on the gearshift. make you lick up every drop while i fuck you so hard the neighbors’ll think i fucking killed someone.”

the moan that rips from your throat is borderline pornographic. your hips twitch up, chasing friction, and your fingers speed up, shameless now.

“keep t— talking, please,” you whimper, breath stuttering. the wet squelch of your fingers is so loud it overpowers the phone’s shitty speaker. “can’t— fuck, i can’t stop, matty, feels so good…”

“don’t stop,” he growls. “want you crying when you cum for me.”

your back arches violently as you press the heel of your hand against your clit, grinding in time with your fingers, trying to drown yourself in the sound of his voice. he’s cursing now — swearing about how your sounds are gonna fucking kill him, how his hand isn’t enough, how he’s gonna wreck you the second he’s home.

“you hear me, baby? i’m gonna ruin you,” he snarls. “gonna split you open on my cock and leave you leaking for days.”

your body locks up like a livewire. the orgasm slams into you, hard and fast, ripping a choked sob from your chest as your thighs clamp around your hand. everything goes hot and white and messy, vision swimming, stomach convulsing as you come apart for him.

he groans loud into the speaker, guttural and feral, and you know he’s close too; you can hear the wet, frantic strokes, the hiss of his breath, the tension in every syllable as he fights the edge.

“fuckfuckfuck— baby, say my name,” he gasps.

“matty— mattheo, please—” you cry, raw and ruined and still twitching.

and then he breaks.

the sound he makes when he cums is obscene, half grunt, half moan, thick with hunger and need. you hear it, you feel it, your cunt pulsing around nothing at the thought of him finishing all over his chest, fist still tight, probably thinking about your mouth cleaning him up.

there’s silence for a moment. just the shared static of both your ragged breathing.

“you better not fucking move,” he says, voice gravel-rough. “i wanna see it. wanna see the mess you made. send me a picture, babygirl. now.”

you don’t even think. you just obey.

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