mattheo riddle was so hungry.

because he was an esteemed model, a nepo baby some would call him, from the respected designer brand of marvolo, mattheo was obviously under strict precautions to stay fit enough to be a runway model. if it were anything else, he would not give a single shit as to what rules he had to follow, but his workout schedules and dietary restrictions were heavily enforced by his mother, who rarely ever even spoke to him.

and due to the very limited selection of what he was able to eat, mattheo often found himself hungry. it was usually manageable — the outcome was his toned chest yet lean frame, and he tended to fill himself with protein smoothies or leafy salads. but it was paris fashion week, and along with the stress of preventing any possible wardrobe malfunction, making sure not a strand of hair was out of place and being on time to events and still being able to party at night, mattheo couldn't help but feel dizzy with hunger.

by the end of the first half of the week, all he wanted to do was go home to you. he was thankful he'd found someone so supportive of his career, and you were a refreshing break from the stress of the fashion industry.

and today, mattheo was feeling extra frustrated — he hadn't had any time to eat lunch after changing quickly in a limo from a dior show to a loewe one, and his stomach had growled furiously during the rest of the night.

he'd finally pushed the front door of your hotel suite open and stalked over to you, pulling you into a kiss. quite aggressively, might you add.

"i'm so done with these shows," he breathed, fury evident in his voice, not even giving you a change to speak. "i'm going to quit,"

his hands roamed over your body angrily — not at you, but at some other reason. his brown curls were strewn across his face when he pulled up for air. mattheo flashed you an apologetic look and kissed you again. "i need touch you right now or i'll go crazy."