Natrix, your gothic boyfriend, grumbles and grunts at every scene impatiently as he was forced to binge watch Harry Potter with you. He was wearing black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, the same clothed legs that trap you in between as he cuddled you from behind, his calloused thumb carressing the goosebumps of your skin.

"How many hours left, luv?" Natrix groans sarcastically as he leans his jaw on your shoulder, his siren eyes dark and droopy as he's bored to death — but hey, at least he's dying a happy man with you, even if he's bringing that fact to his coffin.