#like “wow i made this?”... it makes me feel warm...

[vouges]

word count: 750 - nsfw, minors do not interact.

Tattoo artist Simon! who had a busy schedule, very high in demand yet for some reason always had a spot available for you.

Tattoo artist Simon! who swore the discount he gave you was just a friendly gesture, brushing it off as a way to make a loyal client feel appreciated.

Tattoo artist Simon! who never did more than necessary, the touch routine and practiced, yet with you he always let his fingers linger longer than they needed to, almost caressing, before you heard the familiar buzz of the needle.

"Gotta keep still for me, yeah?" he murmured, "Can’t be messing up my pretty canvas"

Tattoo artist Simon! who felt like a fool every time his cock hardened when you’d send through a picture of your healed up tattoo, with a sweet little thank you message always accompanied by a heart that pathetically made him want to cum in his boxers.

Tattoo artist Simon! who insisted you were just another client, even as he fucked his fist to the images of you engrained into his mind. He felt like a desperate mess, cock achingly hard as ropes of cum shot out, splattering across his stomach all from the slithers of skin that he’d seen when tattooing you. God, how easily you made him feel like an inexperienced virgin.

Tattoo artist Simon! who messaged back embarrassingly fast when you asked if he ever wanted to meet up outside of just a tattooing session. He cringed afterwards, noticing the typos and the awkward combination of emojis used.

'A thumbs up and two smiles?' he thought to himself, 'Real great Simon, should've thrown in the entire happy categories of emojis whilst you're at it'

Tattoo artist Simon! who couldn't believe his luck when you and him wound up on your sofa after dinner and a few drinks at a local pub but makes no move to question it as you both kiss messily, tongues dancing and hands reaching everywhere they can with the current restriction of your clothes.

"Wow- this is actually happening, huh?" he mumbled as you kissed messily, hands grasping at each other, "God, you've no idea how long I've been waiting for this"

Tattoo artist Simon! who had to bite down on your shoulder to muffle the groan that escaped him as he bottomed out in you for the first time. Hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as if he was scared you'd disappear if he let up.

"Fuuuck-" he whispered shakily as he tried to remind himself you had neighbours and very thin walls, "God that feels so good."

Tattoo artist Simon! who quickly gave up on any attempt to be quiet once he heard how pretty your moans sounded, selfishly wanting them to grace his ears with every thrust as he tilted your head back, not wanting you to stifle your moans with the cushions underneath you.

"Shit- no, keep making those sounds," he murmured, breath hot against your skin, "Wanna hear every single one of ‘em, don't go quiet on me, doll"

Tattoo artist Simon! who honestly felt like he'd never experienced sex this good, even on a less than comfortable sofa that he knew would leave him sore in the morning, it was worth it as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, so warm and tight, milking him for all his worth.

"Fuck- so...so, good-" he almost whined, punctuating each word with a thrust, his balls slapping against your skin as he increased tempo, "Could stay like this forever."

Tattoo artist Simon! who kissed you with so much more care than you'd ever expect as you both came, you gushing around his cock as his cum shot out, painting your walls, before slowly oozing out from where you were both connected.

Tattoo artist Simon! who had to take a moment to admire the sight of your blissed out face as you lay back on the sofa, slick with sweat and his cum running out of you.

Tattoo artist Simon! who laughed as he lay beside you on a sofa that was way too small, the both of you talking about everything and nothing at all before realising you'd both denied wanting this for so long.

"I tried so hard not to like you, thinking you were too good for me- hoping it would keep the thoughts at bay," he chuckled, a contagious sound as he ran his fingers across your skin, "Didn’t work for shit obviously with you wanting me just as bad."

[kandlewick]

janitor yuu au! kalim who is finally able to travel back home for the holidays since he wasn't able to during winter break due to... circumstances quite literally out of his control. jamil is also with him and regardless of the twos still rocky relationship, they're both wiling to have some kind of truce while visiting family.

and now kalim finds himself at a loss as everything he's so used to doing for himself is now being done on his behalf. instead of the same few outfits to rotate through, now he has servants waiting at his beck and call to garb him in a brand new outfit every day, each more luxurious then the next. food is now brought to him, fresh and warm and spiced to perfection but he feels selfish now to admit he misses the way you cooked, with the slightly burned ends and the faint taste of plastic from the tupperware. he misses the familiar fabric of his now worn out cardigan. the close weaving had begun to separate and he had just started being able to fit his fingers through the yarn and it wrapped around his fingers so securely it felt like a warm hug.

he felt selfish here, laying on his fancy bed with the canopy and thick comforter, pillows galore, because despite being back in luxury, he missed the familiarity of the ramshackle dorm and the janitor and grim. he missed having choices. he missed having control.

jamil finds him sneaking out in the middle of the night and he reluctantly follows, his footsteps light as the two of them made their way to the kitchen.

everything was quiet now, the servants having been long dismissed, and kalim felt himself let out a sigh of relief. nobody was there to stop him. with an almost excited pep to his step, he made his way in to the heavily stocked pantry and began his search. he felt bad, but the food that was given to him for dinner was too rich, it made his stomach hurt, and he found that his palette wasn't as fond of fancier food now that he's had the simpler things.

"you're not going to find anything like what the janitor has stored away in ramshackle if that's what you're looking for."

the sound of jamil's voice startled kalim enough that he slammed his head against a shelf. his hands immediately flew up to cradle his skull and he let out a sharp whine. he looked up at jamil with tears in his eyes but brightened when he saw him leaving against the door frame, arms crossed with a familiar unamused expression on his face. kalim was quick to straighten himself to his full height and gave his friend(?) a nervous smile. no matter how jamil felt about him, kalim couldn't help but think of him as his closest friend in spite of everything.

"ah, uhm! i figured!" kalim let out a small laugh. his hands reached to nervously fidget at the loose yarn of his cardigan but found nothing, only the silky smooth fabric of a new shawl over his shoulders. the thinness of it left him feeling exposed. "all the food the servants made was really good but i felt it was a bit too much! ever since i've lived in ramshackle, i've gotten so use to eating—"

"you're so use to eating scraps now that you decided to raid the servant's kitchens to see if you could find something to reassure yourself that you weren't 'becoming spoiled' again?" jamil's tone was icy again, like from back when they argued, and kalim felt himself unintentionally shrinking in on himself. jamil continued, "and then, because you dont know the first thing about anything, you were going to get me to make whatever silly thing the janitor could scrounge up with left over tuna and some eggs so you could sit in the kitchen and eat it up and think to yourself 'wow im such a good person, having learned to enjoy the simpler things in life' all while going back to your room and sleeping like a little baby, safe and cuddled up in your several thousand thaumark sheets, spoiled rotten beyond belief—"

"you're right," kalim nodded, "i am spoiled."

"but i've also learned how meaningless a lot of this is." kalim's shoulders slumped, "did you know that there were servants whose entire job was to make sure my bathwater wasn't too hot or too cold? I didn't," he laughed, "i just thought the water came out perfect every time."

he remembered his first cold shower in ramshackle and how he sneezed and sneezed and sneezed. he remembered how the janitor had made him some chalky hot cocoa to help warm himself up and that it was the tastiest thing he had had all day. he remembers them wrapping him up in several ratty blankets and reassuring him that he would get use to it.

"the first cold shower is always the worst. so is the second. and so is the third. but eventually it will be ok."

"is it ok for you?"

the janitor hadn't said anything then, only offered him a small smile and a shrug before grim stole their attention away from him.

kalim blinked. he was back in the present.

"i spent my whole life having someone do everything for me and i thought that it was normal. that it was ok because i didn't know how to do anything properly and i didn't! but nobody would let me try. nobody let me fail. the only person who ever trusted me with my own choices was them."

"if i even so much as picked up a bread knife, you or some other servant would pluck it from my hands. saying things like, 'oh thats too dangerous for you' or 'don't worry kalim i've got it handled.' and i've suffered because of it!" he looked down at his hands and finally felt a sense of comfort in the cheap, colorful band aids that were wrapped around his fingers. burn marks, cuts, bruises, all things he never got to experience here in the palace or even in his own dorm.

his choices, his own choices.

"i am spoiled, jamil, you're right, but unlike you, i want to change. im tired of having everyone do everything for me. i want to cook my meals and make my own bed. i want to study hard and succeed where i let myself fail because i knew i had you to count on. i want to be able to rely on myself, jamil so if you'll excuse me im going to make a tuna and butter sandwich on stale bread."

[borderlineex]

₊˚⊹౨ armed & adored ৎ ₊˚⊹

sam winchester x reader

It had been a long week—ghouls in Michigan, a haunted library in Ohio, and now, finally, a moment to breathe in a quiet motel just outside of Lebanon. Sam had suggested a break from hunting and a quiet night of research (classic Sam), and you happily agreed. It was rare to have downtime, especially with both Winchesters in one piece.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through old lore books, surrounded by empty coffee cups and snack wrappers. The room smelled faintly of vanilla from your travel candle, and the hum of the A/C was a soothing background noise.

“Hey, Y/N, I think I found something…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his towel-dried hair with one hand, completely unaware that your soul was about to leave your body. Because Sam was wearing a tank top. A gray, perfectly innocent, probably-soft cotton tank top.

But that tank top did things. It clung to him just enough to showcase those ridiculously toned arms, the curve of his shoulders, and the gentle dip of his collarbone. His skin still glistened slightly from the shower, and his hair—now loose and slightly wavy—framed his face like some sort of divine gift. You forgot how to read. How to breathe. How to function.

“...Y/N?” he asked, looking at you with soft, concerned eyes.

You blinked quickly. “Sorry, what?”

Sam tilted his head. “You okay? You were staring.”

“I was not!” you blurted out way too fast. “I was just… zoning out.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Zoning out at my arms?”

Your face went nuclear.

“I mean, not on purpose!” you squeaked, trying to bury your face in your book and your shame.

Sam chuckled, low and fond, and sat down beside you on the bed, his ridiculously warm shoulder brushing yours. “You know, if you like them that much, you can just say so.”

You peeked at him from behind the book. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Very much.” He grinned, the dimple in his cheek making a surprise appearance. “But for the record…” He leaned in a little, voice lower now. “I think it’s cute.” Sam gave you a look that was so soft it made your chest ache. “You know... I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long before you muttered, “Even cuter than your muscles?”

He laughed, a full, real laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “That’s a high bar… but yeah. Definitely.”

You tried to hide your face again, but Sam reached out, gently pulling the book away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Next time,” he said, “maybe I’ll wear the tank top on purpose—just for you.”

You nodded, already a goner. “I think I’m okay with that.”

And just like that, the great tank top Incident became the beginning of something very good.

A few days after , things had almost gone back to normal. Except for one small problem: you couldn’t stop thinking about Sam’s arms. It wasn’t just the way they looked (though, let’s be real, wow), it was the way they moved when he carried heavy books, or swung a duffel over his shoulder, or absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck while reading lore. They were like works of art — functional and ridiculously attractive.

But the worst part? You still hadn’t touched them. You were dying. Dying. It wasn’t like you could just ask to cop a feel out of nowhere. You had dignity. You had restraint. You had—

“Hey, Y/N, can you give me a hand with this?” Sam called from across the bunker’s library.

You turned and nearly dropped your tea. He was wearing another tank top. This time, it was navy blue and even more offensive to your self-control than the last one. He was standing next to a stack of dusty boxes and looking like he just walked off the set of some lumberjack romance novel. You walked over, heart doing weird little flips, and helped him move a box of books. Your hand brushed his bicep by accident and holy crap.

“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing how you froze.

You cleared your throat. “Yep. Totally normal. Just... evaluating.”

His brow furrowed. “Evaluating?”

You sighed. “Okay, listen. This is going to sound weird, but… for scientific purposes—and only for science—I feel it’s important that I, um, touch your arm. Like... intentionally.”

Sam blinked. Then grinned. “Scientific purposes, huh?”

You nodded solemnly. “Peer-reviewed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of science.”

With a slight chuckle, he flexed just the tiniest bit and held out his arm toward you, like some kind of Greek god volunteering for worship. You gulped and placed your hand gently on his bicep. Warm. Firm. Ridiculous. You squeezed lightly. Then again, just to be sure. You may have sighed audibly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’ve concluded,” you said with all the seriousness you could muster, “that you are, in fact, built like a tree.”

Sam laughed so hard he had to sit down on the nearest chair. “A tree?”

“A big, stupidly handsome one. With very huggable branches.”

He was still chuckling when you sat next to him, letting your hand rest comfortably on his arm this time, no more hiding it. It felt... easy. Familiar. Safe.

“You know,” he said softly, voice quieter now, “you don’t need a scientific excuse to touch me.”

You smiled up at him. “Maybe not. But it helped.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Next time, just say you want to cuddle.”

You leaned into his side, content and giddy. “Well, if we’re skipping the peer review, then I want both arms. Full wrap-around.”

Sam wrapped both arms around you instantly, warm and secure. “Happy to contribute to the research.”

[demie90s]

Reader and Angel were each other’s first love in college but broke up when Angel went pro. Years later, they run into each other at a charity event—both successful, both changed, both still clearly hurting. Angel pulls reader aside and quietly asks, “Do you ever regret walking away… or just regret that I let you?” The spark’s still there, but so is the pain.

History

Angel Reese x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Years after their quiet, painful breakup, Angel and you reunite at a charity event. Both have grown. Both have healed—somewhat. But the spark never left, and neither did the ache.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Genre: Second chance, angst, slow burn, emotional tension

Warnings: emotional intimacy, bittersweet memories, slow pacing

I hadn’t seen her in almost three years, but I knew that frame the second she walked in.

Long legs, chin high, diamond necklace catching the light as she laughed—her whole presence still magnetic like I remembered.

Angel Reese, number five on the court, number one in every headline. But before all that, she was just my girl. My first love. My everything.

I watched from across the room, pretending to sip from my champagne flute as she made her rounds. She looked happy. Or at least… she looked like someone who knew how to wear happiness well.

The kind that was curated, practiced, press-trained. I’d studied that kind of polish in the industry for years now—working with models, artists, walking egos and broken girls alike. I knew what hiding in plain sight looked like. And maybe I was projecting. But when her eyes finally met mine, the way they widened told me she saw it too.

Neither of us moved at first. Just… staring. The kind of stare you feel in your ribs. The kind that makes your throat close. She took a slow breath. So did I. Then, almost cautiously, she started walking toward me.

God, she was beautiful.

“Wow,” she said, the word leaving her lips like it had weight. Her voice was lower now. More control in it. But still Angel. “You look… damn.”

I laughed before I could stop it, nervous and quiet. “You too,” I managed, still clutching the stem of my glass too tightly. “I—how are you?”

She didn’t answer right away. She tilted her head like she was still trying to believe I was real. “Been busy,” she said. “Chicago… media, playoffs. You know how it is.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen.”

“You’ve been doing your thing too,” she added quickly, almost like she didn’t want to give me a chance to humble it down. “I saw your Vogue feature. That shoot with Anok and Zaya? That was fire. I was like—‘She really out here changing the game.’”

That made me smile for real. She still remembered the way to say things that hit my chest first. “Thank you,” I said softly. “It means a lot. Coming from you.”

The room felt too loud. Too hot. People buzzed past us—publicists, stylists, agents, fake friends in heels. But it was like a silent current pulled just the two of us to the side. Somewhere quieter. Away from the clinking of glasses and curated laughter. Angel didn’t ask. She just walked, and I followed. Because I always did.

We ended up outside on a terrace. Just city air, warm lights, and that hum between us.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said, leaning on the stone railing. Her nails tapped lightly against the edge. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.”

That stung a little. “Damn. That bad?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “No, I just—I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

I stepped beside her. Not too close. But not far. “You still don’t,” I whispered.

She looked at me then. Really looked. Like I’d peeled something back without warning. “You think about it?” she asked. “Us?”

My heart kicked. I tried not to let it show. “I don’t stop.”

Angel looked down for a second, jaw flexing, like she was biting back years. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost raw. “Do you ever regret walking away… or just regret that I let you?”

I didn’t have a good answer. Because neither of us had walked, not really. Life just… moved. Faster than we expected. She went pro. I stayed back, focused on my grind, told myself I’d catch up later. But later kept slipping away.

“I regret everything we didn’t say,” I admitted. “I regret that we let silence win.”

Angel nodded slowly, eyes wet but unreadable. “I used to replay our mornings. That little corner cafe you loved. The way you’d hum when you were picking out outfits. I’d play whole conversations in my head when I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought I was the only one.”

She laughed under her breath, but it cracked in the middle. “You weren’t.”

A long beat passed. The kind that stretches time, lets you sit inside it.

I turned to face her fully. “So what now?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m scared. I’ve been scared. We both got big lives now. People watching. Pressure. Schedules. I can’t do another heartbreak. Not like that.”

“Me either.”

“But,” she said, stepping just a little closer. “You still make me feel like I’m nineteen and nothing else matters.” That broke something soft in me.

“You wanna be honest?” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “You still make me feel like home.”

She just stood there, looking like everything I wanted and everything I was afraid of. I didn’t reach for her either. Not yet. But we were here. Finally. And maybe that was enough for now.

We weren’t healed. We weren’t whole. But we were still us. Somehow, after all this time… that still meant something.

We didn’t rush it. Even though every part of me wanted to.

I could’ve kissed her right there on that terrace. Could’ve said come home with me, and I know she would’ve. Hell, she might’ve said it first. But something about the way we looked at each other—that long, loaded silence—said don’t ruin it this time.

Instead, we just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, letting the air carry the weight of what we didn’t say out loud.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” she said finally, voice low like a secret. “Not again.”

“You’re not the only one scared,” I admitted. “I think I’m still holding my breath from the last time.”

She turned to me slowly, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “So what if we take our time? Not fall into it. Build it. Like something we earned.”

I nodded. “Like a story we write on purpose.”

Her pinky brushed mine. Just that. A soft, accidental-almost-intentional touch. But I felt it everywhere.

It was crazy—how something that once felt like a wildfire now felt more like a candle we were both protecting from the wind.

Not because the fire wasn’t there. But because we knew how hard it had been to relight it.

“I still love you,” Angel said quietly. “I never stopped. I just… stopped saying it out loud.”

I didn’t freak. Just looked her in the eye, chest warm and eyes tired from missing her for too long.

“I know,” I whispered. “Me too.” Maybe that was the beginning. Not a second chance, not really. More like the first real one.

The one where we weren’t kids trying to hold onto something too big for our hands. Now we had the hands. And the hearts. And the lessons.

So we walked back into the event like nothing had changed. But everything had. No one else knew it but us.

We didn’t kiss that night. We didn’t sleep together. We just texted when we got home. Called the next day. Saw each other that weekend.

And slowly—deliberately—we let the fairytale unfold. This time, page by page.Like the kind of love you only get once,

if you’re lucky enough to find it again.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[checkthescript]

[* Everyone appears to still be sound asleep.]

...

(They look so... so exhausted. Might be best to just let them sleep for now...) (I... I didn't mean to make them worry like this... I never want anyone to worry...)

...

[* Tenna looks down at himself and almost shrieks in horror.]

[* His body, his suit, everything is...]

[* His favourite signature suit is positively annihilated and his torso is equipped with shiny new material all across the front. Smells... fresh, like a brand new Cungadero straight from the dealership. All of the scuffs, the marks, the patches of discolouration from years of wear and tear that he was so intimately familiar with were... gone.]

(Something feels very different inside...)

[* He shifts, trying to figure out the sensation. If he had skin, it'd be crawling. The TV host freezes, realising what it was that was bothering him.]

(New... new wiring. New circuitry.)

[* Some of his insides... have been replaced.]

[* Tension coils tightly up inside him like a spring under pressure at this revelation. Tenna stays still for a few minutes, utterly silent in contemplation.]

[* Eventually, he slowly heaves himself up off the floor and leaves the room. He stumbles a few times, grabbing the wall of the hallway for support. A raspy, desolate laugh escapes him as he considered that he probably looked like a mechanical zombie shambling through the studio the way he was.]

[* In a way, he supposed that was sort of accurate, considering the circumstances. He winced with a grimace every time a new, unrecognised part of his body caught his eye. Through the sleeves of his shredded suit, he could see patches of twinkling metal, foreign to him. A heavy and deeply aggrieved feeling clamped down onto his chest from the inside. He felt like he could cry.]

[* ... ]

[* That didn't last for long when he saw the Green Room.]

[* Destroyed furniture. Holes in the walls and floor. A massive crater blasted out of the centre of the room. It looked like a war had taken place in here. His gaze fell upon the Janitor, still toiling desperately away trying to clean the mess. It hadn't noticed him yet.]

[* His hand, lacking a glove, wandered up to his chest. It hovered there a moment, trembling, hesitating. As he took in the absolute destruction, his finger tips finally made contact with this unfamiliar part of his body. It didn't feel the same as before...]

[* ... But he felt lucky to be alive.]

[* ... It felt like... love.]

[* An immense gratitude washed over him.]

[* Despite the changes to his body.]

[* Despite the changes to the studio.]

[* Despite everything...]

(It's still you.) (My friends... They really love me enough to... to do all of this. I'm still here because of them.)

[* He smiled softly, which quickly blossomed into a wide grin. Something bright and gentle warmed through his chest, the feeling of despair dissipating like a fading static.]

[* Tenna moved quickly to his office. He needed to check on something before tackling the rest.]

[* The door creaked open and the CRT peered inside. Everything was exactly as he'd left it yesterday morning. Wow! Even his friendly little Anon was still curled up on the couch under that blanket he'd put over them.]

[* ... Oh! But there was something new.]

[* ... ]

[* Tenna picked up the Tenna doll.]

[* He held it in both hands, staring at it for a long moment. There were bandaids on its screen, stitches on its tie...]

[* He read the card that came with it. "Get well soon."]

Ha...

[* His chest shook. His hands shook.]

[* He hugged the doll tightly to himself, sinking down to the floor as he cradled it against his form.]

(Broken... but... still good, right?) (To be loved... is to be changed. That's what they say.) (I must... really be loved.)

[kjiscrawlingbackformore]

Peace - Act III : Chapter eight

Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Reader comes back to her hometown and transfers to Wiskayok High School after getting expelled from her previous high school. Follows Junior year into Senior year, all the way up to the crash. (Eventual NSFW mdni)

Warnings: None

Mr. Weaver’s office was still a mess.

Same cracked lava lamp. Same eternal stack of papers leaning like a dying tree. A new addition: a coffee mug that read “I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right.”

You dropped into the chair across from his desk, backpack slumped at your feet. “This place is a fire hazard. Pretty sure OSHA would pass out walking in here.”

Mr. Weaver didn’t look up. “Made it to senior year, and WOW. Still not expelled. I’m proud of you.”

“Give me a week.”

He cracked a grin, then rifled through a manila folder until he found what he was looking for. “I have something for you.”

“If it’s a pamphlet on anger management, I already went. Twice.”

“No,” he said, sliding a sheet of paper across the desk. “It’s a letter. From Emerson College.”

You blinked, mind blanking on the random name. “What’s Emerson?”

“Only one of the best journalism programs in the country. But sure, shrug it off.”

You picked up the paper, eyes scanning quickly, her name printed in serif type near the top. It wasn’t junk mail. It was real. You felt a wave of suspicion flood you. What the fuck is this? Why do they know you? Also what the fuck is this?

“What is this?” You asked, cautiously.

Mr. Weaver leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head like a man extremely pleased with himself. “Remember that piece you wrote for the school paper? About the Yellowjackets’ win and how it brought the school together?”

You narrowed your eyes, already not liking where he was going with this. “What did you do?”

“I submitted it.”

You stared, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “To who?”

“To a national student journalism contest. Sponsored by Emerson. They wanted samples tied to community impact and editorial voice.” He smiled. “And your piece had both.”

“You sent my stuff without asking?”

He shrugged. “If I’d asked, you’d have said no.”

You opened your mouth, and then after a beat closed it. “I-still-what?”

“They loved it,” he said, his tone softening. “Like, not ‘cute high school paper’ loved it. They flagged your writing and your photo layout. Said it had a real voice. Something raw. You got shortlisted for a merit scholarship. Full ride if you make it to the finalist round.”

You blinked. And after a beat of silence, and a staring contest. Your face saying ‘be fucking serious.’ and his saying ‘I am fucking serious.’. You scoffed. “You’re lying.”

“I’m many things. A liar? Not when it comes to good news.”

You stared at the paper again, something warm and flickering pressing behind her ribs. “I never even thought about college. Not seriously. Also, NEVER this kind.”

“Well,” Mr. Weaver said, “start.”

You shook your head. Your mind racing. You don’t have the funds, or the support to do this. How the hell do you start? “I don’t know what I’m doing. I barely got here to this school in one piece. No one in my family’s gone to college. I-respectfully this feels fucking fake.”

Mr. Weaver leaned forward now, elbows on the desk. His sarcasm slipped for once, voice level and sure. “Y/N, you’ve lived through more before seventeen than most people do in fifty. You survived things that would’ve knocked other kids flat. You didn’t just float-you created. You documented the world around you when it was trying to swallow you whole.”

You looked down, throat tightening.

“That’s what great journalists do,” he continued. “You’ve got the eye. The gut. The grit. You think you don’t belong in those spaces, but maybe those spaces have been waiting for someone exactly like you.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What if I can’t keep it up?”

“Then you fail forward. You fall, get up, and write about it. But I’d bet on you, Y/N. Every time.”

You swallowed hard. Your heart clenching at the softness in his voice. He sounded so sure. So convinced. “You really think I could…do this?”

“I don’t just think it,” he said, offering a small smile, “I already submitted the application.”

You gaped, eyes wide in shock. “WHAT?”

“I said I’d treat you like a grown-up, didn’t I? Well, here’s adulthood, kid: sometimes people believe in you before you believe in yourself. And that’s not cheating. That’s just the luck of finally getting the right people in your corner.”

For the first time, you didn’t deflect. You didn’t joke. You just nodded, eyes glassy but grateful.

“Thanks, Weaver.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, already shuffling through a new stack. “Wait until you see how much essay editing I’m about to make you do. You’ve got potential, Y/L/N. But potential is just unused muscle. Time to work.”

You chuckled, and it made way for a smile. A smile goofier than you would've wanted to smile. You stood, letter still in your hand. As you walked out, you felt something flicker in your chest. Hope. And maybe, for the first time in a long time, a glimpse of a future that belonged to no one else but you.

[primaviva]

“SICKENINGLY SWEET” ⸻ SWEETGIRL HEADCANONS

PAIR. sweet!abby anderson x sweet!masc!reader

SYNOPSIS. you and your girlfriend abby love each other a lot; so much so that everybody around you seems to be sick of it your antics.

WARNINGS. mdni, suggestive content, smut, mentions of strap on use, dirty talk, sub!abby, masc pet names, majority is fluff.

you and abby are like two brick houses with bows on top; sturdy, solid, reliable… and constantly pressed forehead to forehead whispering, “i missed you,” like you weren’t just apart for twenty minutes.

the rest of the patrol unit? fed up. fully.

manny once walked in on you two giggling under a tarp during watch duty. “you guys are gonna get sniped because you can’t stop cuddling.”

abby just blinked up like, “then i die warm.”

you two are just a ridiculous pair of sweethearts. she loves doing things for you to show her affection, even if it’s… questionable. abby could make you a shitty sandwich and you’d eat it like it’s fine dining.

“wow baby, this is two pieces of bread and cheese still in the plastic,” you comment. in your mind you know it’s diabolical. how did she not see the plastic? it’s not wrapped THAT thin.

but the minute she shrugs and bats her pretty lashes telling you it’s “it’s made with love.”

the switch up is evident.

“then i love it,” you grin, taking a big bite and choking slightly. just imagine that one spongebob meme where squidwards two front teeth are tacking the most microscopic bite out of the krabby patty? literally you. she kisses your forehead as her atonement for whatever food poisoning you’ll probably wake up with. should’ve taken the cheese out the plastic man…

she’s obsessed with your hands. especially when they’re on her.

rough palms sliding up her sides under her tank top. the quiet way you press your lips to the back of her shoulder in the morning before she’s fully awake.

you’re both tough as hell but the softest with each other, and it’s undeniably cute (or so you like to think).

she’ll walk into the gym and immediately find you across the room, eyes lighting up like the sun just came back after a week of torrential rain.

“there’s my baby,” she’ll grin, jogging over to press a sweaty kiss to your temple.

and you? you melt like the tip of a lit candle from the hot wick.

“hi, beautiful,” you murmur like you’ve just seen her for the first time.

gross! manny’s groaning from across the room.

abby smells like sweat, gun oil, and eucalyptus, and you’re addicted.

you nuzzle her neck constantly, half the time forgetting where you are.

“babe,” she whispers during a briefing. “you’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“you smell good,” you mumble. “gonna live here.”

she shakes her head but lets you. always lets you.

you’re the type to kneel down just to tie her bootlaces without her asking.

she’s mid-conversation and suddenly you’re crouched, focused, tongue between your teeth.

“they were coming undone,” you say simply, double-knotting them with care.

abby stares like she’s gonna propose again, even though you already live in her bed.

“i’m gonna kiss you so hard you can’t walk,” she whispers.

“good. carry me.”

she doesn’t even care if you’re joking. she 100% would, can, and will carry you.

you hold her hand like it’s a god crafted bracelet created for you.

anywhere, anytime.

at dinner. in meetings. even when it makes it awkward to reload your gun.

she’ll try to shake you off like “you need both hands to function y’know.”

you just smile. “nah, i only need one. the other’s for holding you.”

she groans but doesn’t let go.

abby can get a bit jealous. she wants your sweetness all to herself like a greedy bee among a pasture of flowers in the spring.

one time she got jealous you carried someone else’s bag.

it’s just for five seconds. someone was limping and you were helping like the sweet girl you are. she says nothing, but the angelic eyes giving you a not-so-angel stare of death and daggers behind your back tells you all you need to know. you could practically feel her staring you down. in fact—the tension is loud.

later, she pins you to the wall in the shower. “next time i limp, you better carry me.”

you grin, “of course baby.”

she’s not even mad. she just wants to be babied by you. exclusively.

she’s secretly the clingier one, even if no one else sees it.

you leave for five minutes and come back to her pretending she didn’t look for you three times already because at this point it’s a animalistic instinct engraved in her brain (and heart).

“where were you?”

“washing my hands.”

“for that long?”

she always sits in your lap when she’s tired; strong arms slung around your neck, her whole weight just relaxing onto you like you’re her favorite chair.

she doesn’t ask. she just does.

you instinctively pull her close, nose pressed to the side of her head. “long day?”

she hums, “better now.”

and everyone in the room rolls their eyes so hard it echoes.

she gets extra clingy when you’re injured—a quiet, fretted clingy as if you’re slipping through her fingers like sand.

sits next to your cot, arms crossed, pretending not to hover like the helicopter lover she is.

“i’m fine, abby.”

“but you almost weren’t.”

you reach out, touch her hand. “you’d never let that happen.”

she doesn’t answer but instead just leans down and kisses your wrist.

she gets defensive when people tease you about being soft.

“aww, look at her, such a gentleman,” someone sneers.

abby turns immediately. “say that again and i’ll knock your teeth in for every time she opened a door for me.”

you’re behind her like she’s your knight in shining armor (a t-shirt with an unknown stain paired with faded jeans and boots being the armor in question). but hey, her sticking up for you is deeply appreciated and not to mention… kinda hot.

you’re both givers. which means every time ends up being a silent competition of who can make the other cum first.

abby pulls your shirt off with a reverence that makes your skin burn.

“you’re so good,” she murmurs against your throat, voice thick and honey-slow. “always so fucking good to me.”

you slide your fingers along her ribs and smile, breath shaky. “only for you.”

and it’s true. she could ask anything and you’d do it.

abby’s into how gentle you are, even when you’re fucking her.

“you don’t gotta be so sweet,” she pants, hand gripping your shoulder.

but you’re already kissing her cheek, whispering, “wanna be. wanna make it feel’so good.”

she could melt straight into the mattress. full-body shivers—her goosebumps feel like goose pothole. that’s your effect on her.

you lowkey have the filthiest mouth during sex, but it’s gentle. like, respectful filth.

abby’s whimpering underneath you, and you’re saying stuff like:

“taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“that’s it, baby. breathe through it.”

“y’re perfect like this, y’know that?”

and she’s clawing at your back unable to utter anything that remotely sounds like a letter in the alphabet.

you have to be sweet to your girl in the bedroom and just as she has her ways, you have yours. your strap game is respectful. devastating. ridiculous.

she once limped into the medbay the next day. nora asked what happened.

“squats,” she lied. her ass did not do squats.

meanwhile you were behind her in line, smug and beaming like the damn sun.

she’ll go down on you like she’s starving, but your praise? that’s what undoes her.

“that’s it, baby,” you whisper, hips trembling. “so good at this. just like that.”

she moans into you like she needs the approval to breathe.

you thread your fingers through her braid and gently tug, “my girl.”

she nearly loses it.

she calls you “handsome” in the dirtiest voice you’ve ever heard.

like when you’re pinning her against the wall and she’s pulling you in by the shirt.

“so good to me, huh? my handsome girl always knows how to ruin me…”

you’re not even sure if you blacked out or cummed from the praise alone.

abby’s obsessed with the way you take care of her after.

cool rag on her neck, soft kisses over bruises made by you and admittedly liked too much, wrapping her in your hoodie even though she’s the one who could lift you.

“why are you looking at me like that?” she asks sleepily.

“because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever ruined.” oop-

she covers her face with her hands as her thighs rub together.

everyone’s sick of how in love you are.

they groan every time you call her “sweetheart” or whisper “you’re all i need” like it’s not the third time today.

but you don’t care. and neither does she.

you’d go soft and stupid for her a thousand times over, and over, and over again.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ©PRIMAVIVA.

[jeonqquek]

Just Friends… Right?

Pairing : CHANGBIN X READER ( Fluff, Friends-To-Lovers, Soft Teasing, Emotional Tension )

Summary : What starts as a simple movie night between Changbin and Y/N turns into something more, as unspoken feelings begin to surface and lines between friendship and something deeper start to blur

★

You were sprawled out on Changbin’s couch, a blanket thrown over your lap and his hoodie swallowing you whole. It was supposed to be a quick visit just to drop off the snacks he’d left in your car after the group hangout yesterday but somehow, it turned into a full on movie night

Again.

It always did with him.

You barely noticed anymore how easy it was to sink into his space. His home was warm, full of comfy pillows, subtle air freshener, and the smell of whatever protein heavy thing he cooked earlier. And Changbin himself was like a walking heater. Loud, chaotic, hilarious, and then suddenly quiet in those moments when he’d glance at you like you were something important

You didn’t know when your chest had started reacting to that look.

From the kitchen, you heard clinking and the faint hiss of whipped cream. You raised your voice, calling out, “If you put marshmallows in mine, I’m throwing it at you.”

“You wouldn’t,” he shouted back.

“I would, and you know it.”

Moments later, Changbin walked back in, smug grin plastered on his face and two hot chocolate mugs in hand. He handed you one with an overly dramatic flourish like he was delivering treasure.

“There you go, my lady,” he said with a bow. “Prepared with love and a very generous amount of—”

You stared at the mound of marshmallows floating on top.

“Binnie,” you deadpanned, “I just said I hate marshmallows.”

He dropped onto the couch beside you, faking shock. “What?? You do?? Wow. You really should’ve mentioned it.”

“You—!” You narrowed your eyes at him while carefully fishing out a marshmallow with a spoon. “You're lucky you're cute.”

That slipped out faster than you meant.

He froze for a half second. Then smirked. “Oh? Cute, huh?”

You waved the spoon at him. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He just laughed, eyes crinkling as he leaned back against the cushions and took a sip of his own drink, entirely too pleased with himself.

You settled back in, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. The movie started some action flick he’d been hyping up all week but your attention was already drifting. Not to the explosions or car chases, but to the way his arm brushed yours every time he shifted. Or how his fingers tapped against the mug in rhythm with the soundtrack. Or how, every now and then, he’d glance your way like he wanted to say something but bit it back.

You sipped quietly, then reached for the remote and lowered the volume just slightly.

“You’re staring,” he said casually, not even looking at you.

You blinked. “I am not.”

"You are. You’ve been staring at the side of my face for the past ten minutes.”

"Maybe it's just a really good side,” you muttered, setting your mug down and pulling the blanket higher.

That made him turn to you, one brow raised. “You okay?”

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just… tired. Life’s been a little much lately.”

He didn’t push. Just nodded, then nudged your foot with his under the blanket.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. “Not really. It’s not anything specific. Just… building up.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then he leaned back, letting the silence sit between you comfortably before saying, “I get that. You don’t have to explain. Just stay here tonight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I-I mean….on the couch” he corrected quickly. “Or I can take the couch, you take the bed. I just don’t want you going home feeling like that.”

Your chest ached a little from how casually sweet he was.

You were quiet for a beat. “You’re actually kind of a softie, huh?”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

Your brain short circuited for a moment.

“...You’ve been acting differently lately,” he added after a pause.

“Weird how?”

He tilted his head, thinking. “I don’t know. You’ve been quieter. Not roasting me as much. Or maybe I just miss your usual level of bullying.”

You gave him a look. “You miss me bullying you?”

“Kinda,” he shrugged. “Made it easier not to think about how cute you are.”

The words landed like a dropped pin in a silent room.

You stared at him.

“What?” you whispered.

He blinked like he hadn’t realized he said that out loud. “Shit—no—I mean yes, I meant it, but—damn. That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Your heart was thumping now, louder than the muffled sounds of the movie still playing in the background.

“You think I’m cute?”

He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I think everything you do is cute. Even when you get weirdly aggressive about marshmallows. Even when you fall asleep mid-sentence. Even when you call me annoying and steal my hoodie and pretend not to care.”

You were stunned silent.

Changbin leaned in just slightly, enough for his voice to drop lower. “I don’t know what this is between us. But it hasn’t felt like just friendship for a while now. At least not for me.”

…Me neither,” you admitted softly.

The distance between you felt suddenly way too small. But you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Then, he reached up, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay if I…?”

You nodded, barely breathing.

He kissed you. Soft, careful, like he was still waiting to see if you’d pull away. But you didn’t. You kissed him back, melting into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When he pulled back, lips hovering just inches from yours, he whispered, “Still friends?”

You smiled, eyes fluttering open. “Friends don’t kiss like that, Binnie.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer into his side and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good. Because I’m definitely not trying to be your friend anymore.”

—-

Changbin hadn’t moved since he pulled you into his side, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, your legs tangled comfortably under the blanket. The TV was still playing, but the both of you had completely stopped pretending to care about what was happening onscreen.

You were too busy replaying his kiss on a loop in your head.

Every time you shifted slightly, his grip would tighten just a little. Like he still couldn’t believe you were actually here, this close, wrapped up in him. Like maybe if he let go, you’d change your mind.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled against his chest, face tucked right beneath his collarbone.

“You’re heavy,” he replied immediately, voice muffled from the way his cheek was resting against your head.

You smacked his stomach gently, and he let out a dramatic groan. “Ow. Abused in my own home.”

“Please,” you muttered. “I barely even tapped you.”

“I’m delicate.”

You snorted. “You’re literally built like a fridge.”

Changbin smirked, his hand smoothing down your arm under the blanket. “A very soft, emotional fridge.”

There was a beat of silence before he added, quieter now, “...You don’t have to leave tonight.”

You looked up at him. “I wasn’t planning to.”

He gave you a little smile, but you could tell it meant more than what either of you said out loud.

His hand found yours under the blanket, fingers slipping between yours like it had always been that way. You were about to close your eyes, completely content in the quiet glow of his living room, when—

“Binnie?”

The door creaked open.

You and Changbin froze.

And then—

“BRO, YOU LEFT THE GROUP CHAT ON READ AND—oh.”

You peeked up over the blanket as Hyunjin stood frozen in the doorway, mouth slightly open, one brow raised in utter disbelief.

You could see his eyes dart from you, wrapped up in Changbin’s hoodie and half-buried in his chest, to Changbin’s hand clutching yours under the blanket, to the mugs on the table with still-melting marshmallows.

“Are you…?” Hyunjin pointed between the two of you. “Are you guys dating or did I just walk in on a cuddle cult initiation?”

Changbin groaned and dropped his head back against the couch dramatically.

“I knew you were gonna ruin this moment.”

Hyunjin gasped. “So it was a moment!”

You snorted into your hand, laughing way too hard at the entire situation.

“I swear—” Changbin grumbled, “—you guys have a sixth sense for interrupting me when I’m finally getting somewhere.”

Hyunjin just grinned. “Took you long enough, Romeo. You’ve been making heart-eyes at Y/N since the stone age.”

You started blushing immediately, which only made Hyunjin more smug.

“You know what?” Changbin huffed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him. “Get out. You’re banned from this apartment for like… a week.”

“A week?” Hyunjin scoffed. “That’s it? Bro. Please. You’ll be texting me tomorrow like ‘what do I say when she looks at me like this again’—”

“OUT.”

Hyunjin cackled all the way out the door, which Changbin locked behind him without hesitation.

When he turned back around, his cheeks were a little pink.

“Sorry about him.”

You smiled. “Honestly? I think that was the perfect way for someone to find out.”

Changbin returned to the couch and pulled you right back into his arms like it was instinct. He kissed your temple this time, whispering against your skin.

“Not gonna lie, I kinda like the whole ‘having you in my arms’ thing. Might be addicted already.”

You grinned, snuggling closer.

“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[luciemggio]

You Came for the Music, Stayed for Me

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f’singer reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Sebastian sees her sing once—and falls. A few quiet dates turn into love. Months later, they make it official.

The dressing room was still humming with the aftershocks of adrenaline. You had just come off stage, still flushed, still breathless, your voice echoing faintly in your ears, though the applause had long faded behind the heavy velvet curtain.

Your manager was talking—something about the next city, the press conference, an invite from Jimmy Fallon—but your eyes kept drifting to the clock.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for.

And then, the knock.

“Hey, there’s someone here to see you,” your assistant called softly, leaning into the room. “He’s on the list. Sebastian Stan?”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t even known he was in town.

You pushed yourself off the couch and tried not to sound too curious.

“Sebastian Stan? Like, that Sebastian Stan?”

She grinned. “Unless there’s another one who looks like an Armani campaign and smells like sin.”

Your heart skipped. You tried to play it cool, grabbing your water bottle and smoothing your hair.

“Okay, send him in.”

Ten Minutes Earlier

Sebastian had been let in through a discreet side entrance, escorted quietly down the corridor by a roadie who clearly recognized him but said nothing.

He stood just out of view of the crowd, near the wings, as your last song played. And something happened—he wasn’t prepared for it.

It wasn’t just the voice. Or the way you moved. It was the energy. That kind of pull that wrapped itself around his ribcage and didn’t let go.

When the final chord struck, and you smiled, pressing your hand to your heart in thanks, Sebastian whispered to himself,

“…Wow.”

Back in Your Dressing Room, Sebastian walked in slowly, like he didn’t want to intrude, one hand running awkwardly through his slightly damp hair.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “I hope it’s okay I stopped by.”

You smiled, heart racing. He was even more gorgeous in person. The kind of handsome that made you forget how to stand.

“Sebastian Stan,” you said, stepping forward. “You came.”

“I did,” he chuckled, glancing around. “I, uh… I’ve been listening to your album nonstop lately. Your music’s kinda been stuck in my head for a while.”

You raised a brow. “So you stalked me backstage to tell me that?”

“Not stalked. Just… politely infiltrated.”

You laughed, really laughed, and something eased between you.

“Well,” you said, walking over to the couch and sitting down, “you’re welcome to infiltrate my dressing room any time. Want a drink?”

He sat beside you, still unsure if this was real. “Only if it’s not one of those green celery things celebrities pretend to like.”

You handed him a sparkling water. “Don’t worry, I save those for the label meetings.”

An Hour Later, you were both still on the couch, now closer. Shoulders occasionally brushing. Empty drink bottles on the table.

“So what got you into music?” he asked, resting his elbow on the back of the couch, head tilted.

You looked down at your hands. “Honestly? Loneliness. I grew up in a loud house, but I always felt like I was screaming into a room where no one heard me. Music was the one place where I felt… understood. Even when no one was listening yet.”

Sebastian nodded, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes.

“I get that,” he said softly. “I started acting for a lot of the same reasons. You become all these people… so you don’t have to sit with yourself.”

Your eyes met. And something clicked.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He smiled faintly, eyes warm. “Yeah. Me too.”

And Two Weeks Later, Sebastian and you had your first real date. It wasn’t glamorous. Just a small Italian place on a quiet street in the Palisades. You wore an oversized sweater and jeans. He wore that damn leather jacket that made everyone look twice.

You ordered wine. He went for limoncello, to your horror.

“Who drinks that voluntarily?” you teased.

“I like to suffer, apparently,” he said, raising the glass with mock pride.

You couldn’t stop laughing. He couldn’t stop watching you laugh.

Later, walking toward your car, the sky soft with ocean fog, your hands brushed. Then laced together like it had always been that way.

You paused before unlocking your door.

“I’m glad you came to that show,” you said.

He looked at you like you were the only light in the world.

“Me too.”

Then he leaned in and kissed you—soft, unhurried, like the first page of a story neither of you wanted to end.

It happened eventually. Paparazzi caught you on a stroll in Brooklyn, grabbing coffee and walking his dog a month after.

You saw the flashes before he did.

Sebastian instinctively stepped in front of you, hand on your lower back.

“Just keep walking,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You did.

You got in the car, quiet at first. Then you looked at him.

“I hate this part.”

He reached over, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I know. But we’ll handle it together, yeah?”

You smiled, small but sincere.

“Yeah.”

The first time you spent the night at his place. You were lying on his couch in sweatpants and one of his shirts, legs tangled under a blanket. A vinyl record crackled softly in the background.

He handed you a mug of chamomile tea, then sat beside you.

“I like this,” he said, voice low. “No noise. No cameras.”

You looked at him.

“You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

“How so?”

“I thought you’d be… polished. A little distant. Like the men you play.”

He chuckled. “That’s good acting, then.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “I like who you are when no one’s watching.”

He kissed your temple.

“That’s the only me I want you to know.”

And Three Months Later, you posted it first.

(The picture is just to illustrate the post, you can imagine whoever you want as the woman)

With the caption: 🎶 + ❤️ = best vibes

Sebastian reposted it an hour later with a single emoji: 🔥

The internet broke.

Your manager texted: “You’ve gone viral.”

Sebastian just shrugged and kissed your shoulder. “Guess the world knows now.”

You turned to him, laughing. “We really soft-launched our way into trending.”

“Hard launch is next,” he smirked, then pulled you onto his lap.

You kissed him, fingers sliding through his hair.

“Only if I get to write our love song first.”

He smiled against your lips.

“You’ve been writing it since the night we met.”

A Year Later, Sebastian was in the front row at your acoustic show in NYC. No bodyguards, no cap, no sunglasses. Just him. Watching you like you were the only thing in the world.

You introduced the final song.

“This one’s… about how love sometimes shows up when you least expect it. Sometimes it walks into your dressing room with a crooked smile and too much charm. And if you’re lucky, it stays.”

The crowd cheered, but your eyes found his.

He nodded once, like he already knew every word.

And you sang—just for him.

9 moths later

The room was electric.

Cameras flashed like lightning, the red carpet pulsed with designer gowns and sharp tuxedos, and somewhere between the chaos and the orchestration of fame, your heart beat faster than it ever did on stage.

You stood at the edge of the arrivals line, your stylist fluffing the trailing edge of your dress — a fitted black satin gown with a low open back and delicate chain straps that shimmered in the warm light. You looked like a dream, but all you could think was:

Where the hell is he?

And then… a hand slipped gently around your waist.

“Sorry,” came the familiar low rasp at your ear. “Traffic. Had to run past a photographer who thought I was Harry Styles.”

You laughed under your breath. “Honestly? I’d believe it.”

Sebastian stepped beside you, crisp in a deep navy tux, shirt just slightly unbuttoned, hair slicked back, but not too much. He looked like danger softened by poetry.

His eyes raked over you, slowly. And then—

“You look like sin and Sunday morning combined.”

You smiled, heat rising under your skin. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Flashbulbs exploded as soon as you stepped together onto the red carpet, and suddenly the world was watching. They hadn’t seen you officially like this before — not side by side at an industry event, not this close, not this intimate.

Whispers broke out.

“Oh my god, it’s real—”

“Sebastian Stan and Y/N—”

You heard a reporter call out, “Y/N, what’s it like having Sebastian as your date tonight?”

You turned, still smiling, and answered without hesitation. “It’s like having my best friend in the world beside me. Also, he looks really hot in a tux.”

Sebastian snorted softly and leaned in to whisper, “That was cute. Remind me to propose at the after-party.”

You blinked, surprised, heart stuttering — and then saw the teasing gleam in his eye. Still, something about the way he said it lingered.

Inside the Ceremony, you were nominated for Best New Artist and Song of the Year. The pressure was intense, but Sebastian never left your side. Not once.

As the show went on, he reached for your hand during performances, laughed softly at your whispered commentary, and offered you his jacket when you got cold during the second hour.

When they finally called your name as the winner for Song of the Year, you froze.

“Y/N L/N – ‘Silhouettes in Blue’!”

Sebastian shot up from his seat before you did.

“Babe,” he said, gently tugging your hand. “Go. That’s you. You did it.”

You stumbled toward the stage, your legs shaky under the weight of it all — the moment, the eyes, the light — but then you looked back.

He was there, hands in his pockets, pride written across his face like it was made just for you.

You stood at the mic, the golden gramophone in your hand, tears already pricking.

“I wrote this song in the middle of the night, alone, on the floor of my apartment,” you began. “It came from a place of heartbreak… but what I found in the process was healing. What I found was hope.”

A pause. Your eyes found him again.

“And months later, someone walked into my life who reminded me why I write songs in the first place. To connect. To feel. To love. So thank you to my fans, my team… and to Sebastian, who showed me that sometimes, real love sneaks in quietly. And stays.”

The crowd erupted.

You walked back to your seat, a bit breathless, and as soon as you reached him, Sebastian pulled you into a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispered.

You looked up at him, your heart full to the brim.

“I meant every word.”

“I know,” he said softly, hand caressing your cheek. “And I think… I’m going to say something cheesy now.”

You raised a brow. “Cheesier than your limoncello obsession?”

He leaned in.

“I think I loved you the second I heard you sing.”

You blinked. “Seb—”

“And now I get to hear you sing for the rest of my life.”

After the Ceremony and later that night, in the suite he rented just for the two of you, you were barefoot, makeup slightly smudged, gramophone on the coffee table. He handed you a glass of champagne and pulled you into his arms.

“I like you better like this,” he said.

You snuggled into his chest. “Like what?”

“Messy. Real. Mine.”

You laughed, pressing your lips to his neck.

“What’s next for us?” you asked.

“World tour?” he teased.

You groaned. “You’d hate that.”

“Maybe. But I’d go. If it meant waking up next to you.”

You looked up at him, fingers threading through his hair. “Do you ever think about how this all started?”

He grinned. “Yeah. I went to a concert.”

You nodded. “You came for the music.”

He kissed you, slow and deep.

“And I stayed for you

[guy-who-likes-fish]

[todayisafridaynight]

[platformboobs]

every day i wake up and i’m grateful for hrt

[ilovolderman]

The Match

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: While secretly dating You, Bucky gets roped into a dating app by Sam

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, light jealousy

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What" (this is already part 5, so yes, im calling it a series.) It doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the soft morning light pouring in through the big windows. You were curled up on the counter in one of Bucky’s henleys — technically yours now, since you’d claimed it after “accidentally” falling asleep in it two months ago. He hadn’t asked for it back.

Bucky stood between your legs, his hands resting gently on your thighs as he stole tiny sips from your coffee cup every time you lowered it.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him as he swiped it again.

He smirked, brushing a thumb over your knee. “Can’t help it. Yours always tastes better.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward anyway, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He caught you halfway and turned it into a real kiss — slow, unhurried, the kind that made time feel irrelevant.

You sighed against his lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, we’re never gonna eat.”

“We can skip breakfast,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

“And deal with Sam’s ‘someone didn’t have their Wheaties’ speech again? No thanks.”

Bucky groaned and stepped back, reluctantly, while you hopped off the counter. You started prepping your coffee again, and he leaned close to watch.

“One scoop…” he counted aloud.

You snuck a glance at him and grinned. “Three.”

“Three?” he fake-gasped. “You planning to vibrate through walls?”

“Says the guy who had four yesterday.”

“Three and a half,” he corrected, deadpan.

You snorted. “Uh-huh. Keep lying to yourself, grandpa.”

He gave you a playful glare but said nothing, instead leaning over to steal one of your toast slices like a thief in the night.

And then — of course — the kitchen door swung open.

“Okay, what the hell is this domestic energy?” Sam’s voice boomed as he walked in. “Am I interrupting a rom-com or—?”

You and Bucky practically jumped apart like teenagers caught red-handed. You reached for the peanut butter like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Morning,” you both said, far too casually, far too in sync.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Weird. Anyway…”

He turned to Bucky, eyes narrowing as he opened the fridge. “You look grumpier than usual.”

“I always look like this.”

“That’s what worries me,” Sam said, pulling out the orange juice. “You need a little somethin’ in your life. A spark. Some romance.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Wow, subtle.”

Sam shot you a grin. “I’m serious, Bucky. You look miserable and I’m sick of it. Your need to get out there. Meet people. Real people. People who don’t, y’know, punch aliens for a living.”

“I’m not miserable,” Bucky muttered, taking a very aggressive bite of toast.

Sam ignored him. “You need someone to, like, hold your hand and remind you that the world isn’t complete garbage.”

“Y/N does that,” Bucky said before realizing. His eyes flicked to you. Yours widened slightly.

“Uh— I mean…” he coughed. “You could. You’re good at pep talks.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

But Sam was too busy with his phone to notice the weird energy. “Anyway, I’m gonna download Spark for you.”

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes.” Sam grinned, typing furiously. “It’s like Tinder but for people who still believe in feelings.”

“Delete it,” Bucky said immediately.

“Too late. Already making your profile. Okay — full name?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sam looked up. “Fine, we’ll just put ‘Bucky B.’ You sound like a retired DJ. Age... one-oh-six... but we’ll round down to thirty-five. Close enough.”

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop from laughing. Bucky looked like he was actually malfunctioning.

“Give me your phone. I'm deleting it.”

“Nope.” Sam sidestepped him and kept typing. “Bio time. What do you want it to say? ‘Strong, silent, may or may not have trauma, will kill spiders for you’?”

“Sam.”

“Oh! And profile picture.” Sam’s grin went feral. “I’m gonna use the one from Clint’s barbecue.”

Bucky froze. “No. Not the one where—”

“Yup,” Sam said, turning the phone around dramatically. “The one where you’re smiling. A real smile. The people gotta see the goods, man.”

You wheezed. “That’s actually a really good picture.”

“It is,” Sam agreed, tapping to save the profile. “Now we wait. Trust me, you're gonna get matches faster than Tony blows money.”

Bucky looked physically pained.

And then… the phone buzzed.

“Oh snap — you already got a match! Girl named Olivia.” Sam said, scrolling like a man on a mission. “Look at this—she hikes, she volunteers at animal shelters. Honestly, Buck, she’s like a Hallmark movie in human form. You should totally message her.”

You blinked.

Something inside you twisted — that unwelcome, unmistakable burn of jealousy curling in your chest.

Bucky looked… surprised. And then cautious. “That was fast.”

“She’s cute,” Sam said, scrolling. “She said you have nice eyes. You should message her. Or better yet, go on a date. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah, Buck. You should totally go.”

Bucky turned toward you slowly. His smile had faded into something softer. Thoughtful. He tilted his head, studying your face like it was a puzzle he was halfway through solving.

“…Maybe,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word.

You smiled a little too tightly. “Good for you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, like he could see right through you.

You lasted approximately six hours before cracking. Not that you were counting.

You’d spent the day trying not to think about Olivia. Or her "kind eyes". Or the fact that Bucky had apparently matched with her in under a minute. Not that it mattered, obviously. You were cool. Chill. Entirely unaffected.

…Until Bucky found you in the hallway on your way back to your room, grabbed your hand, and wordlessly tugged you into his.

He shut the door behind you, arms crossed. He didn't look mad. Just… knowing.

You tried to play it cool. “If this is about the last cookie, I swear I thought it was mine.”

“It’s not about the cookie.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Then what?”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t waver. “You told me to go. Like it didn’t bother you.”

You scoffed lightly, trying to brush it off. “I was just being cool. Y’know, chill. Unbothered.”

“You were seething, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened. “Okay, maybe a little. So what?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just watched you for a second, his silence pressing gently around your walls. Not demanding, not accusing — just waiting for you to be honest.

You exhaled and leaned back against the door. “I know I said it didn’t bother me, but the second Sam said you matched with someone, it was like—like my stomach dropped out.”

His brow furrowed, stepping closer.

You continued, voice softer. “I know you love me. I do. But the idea of someone else getting even a piece of you… I hated it. And that scared me. I didn’t want to be the clingy one or the insecure one or the girl who flips out over some dumb dating app.”

Bucky’s face softened completely. “Hey.”

He closed the gap and cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You are not insecure. You’re not clingy. You’re human. And you love me.” He kissed your forehead gently. “I want you to care.”

Your chest cracked wide open, and you let yourself lean into him.

“I don’t want to share you, Buck,” you whispered. “Not even a little.”

“You never have to,” he murmured. “You’ve got all of me. Always.”

“…So what about Olivia?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He shrugged. “I unmatched her hours ago. Right after you said good for you like you were trying not to cry.”

You gaped. “You what?”

Bucky smirked. “The only person I want… is you.”

Your heart stuttered, full and aching and impossibly light all at once. “Bucky—”

“You’ve had me from the moment you stole my henley and never gave it back.” His voice was barely a whisper. “You don’t have to be chill. You don’t have to play it cool. You already have all of me.”

Your laugh was shaky, but your smile was real. “Even if I get all weird over fictional matches on dating apps?”

He grinned. “Especially then.”

You leaned into him, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt. “So you’re not going on a date with Olivia?”

“Nope,” he said, nuzzling your nose with his. “Unless you change your name and start volunteering at animal shelters.”

You snorted. “I would for you.”

Bucky kissed you then — sweet, slow, soft. The kind of kiss that made you forget all the awkward moments of the morning. The kind that made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

You laughed into the kiss, your fingers curling around his shirt. “You absolute...”

“—Boyfriend material?” Bucky finished, hopeful.

You smiled, lighter than you had all day. “Absolutely.”

Somewhere down the hall, Sam shouted, “I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DELETED SPARK—!”

You broke apart, laughing breathlessly. “We should probably tell him.”

Bucky sighed into your neck. “Or we fake our deaths and disappear into the Alps.”

“Tempting.”

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

synopsis: you feel lonely and buy a new sex doll on the market, not knowing what you got yourself into.

genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi

word count: 10.3k

warnings: alcohol, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), squirting, creampies

a/n: spooktober continues🤭🫶🏻 if u love black mirror, these are vibes for u! also i'm sorry if the ending seems rushed but i have two more things to write for hyunjin before i continue with my spooktober🫠

!!! this fic has an ambiguous ending

~ divider by @bunnysrph

~ Masterlist

~ Dolly masterlist

Your cursor hovers over the 'continue to payment' button.

Are you really doing this?

It's embarassing enough that you can't get a date lately, and everyone around you keeps bugging you about it, asking when you're going to find a partner already.

Like you need one. You were perfectly fine alone.

But everyone has needs, and the ad for the new sex dolls that have just come out on the market looked enticing.

Each one of the new models was a unique one, only one of them made as it was sort of a trial run for them and your attention was captured by Hyunjin, the romantic doll.

It was expensive too, but you had money saved up on the side and thought, why not get something for your pleasure and try something new as well.

'Fuck it!', you thought and clicked on the button, purchasing the doll; there was no going back now.

Eagerly, you awaited the day it would be delivered to your door and three weeks later, there was a big box in the middle of your living room.

Biting on your lip, you stare at the box as your heartbeat quickens.

In the pictures, it looked so real. Like it was a real human being and to say you were a bit disturbed was an understatement.

But as freaky as it was, you were still so curios about it so you opened up the box slowly, your eyes wide for the peculiarity of it all. There were covers neatly placed over the doll, and bubble wrap just about everywhere, but on top of it all was a letter.

You opened it up and it read;

Hello,

my name is Hyunjin and I am your romantic doll.

I love art, good food and wine, long walks on the beach and heartwarming movies.

Please, treat me with great care as I am sensitive, and no matter what you do with me, always end it with cuddles.

Hope you come to love me as much as I already love you.

As you read that, you couldn't help being a little freaked out by the doll professing his love to you, but you had to remind yourself it's just the creators of it who wrote the letter, making the concept more real and human to give some kind of comfort to the buyer and personality to the doll.

Taking a deep breath, you remove all the bubble wrap and slide off the cover.

"Oh." you gasp loudly, your hand slapped on your mouth as you finally see the doll.

He looks too real to be just a doll and for a second you just stare into his eyes, unmoving but somehow warm, his facial features chiseled to perfection, his lips plump and inviting.

Your eyes travel down to see he was dressed in a nice button up, intricate flower patterns sewn into the material, coupled with nice pants and even some very expensive looking shoes.

The doll had jewelry on, his nails were painted, there was so much detail on it; he even had a mole under his eye. You marvelled at the dedication of the people who made it and obviously put a lot of though into Hyunjin.

You notice then that there is a note sticking out of the shirt's pocket and you carefully pick it up.

My love!

I got dressed for our first date!

Hopefully you like it and enjoy our first romantic night together.

"Wow, they really went all out with this." you say out loud as you look at the doll, the next question forming in your mind.

How heavy is the doll?

You spend a few more minutes just examining it with your eyes, too nervous to touch it and you can't get over the way it looks just like a real human being.

You rest your hand on the box, your fingertips gently grazing the doll's cheek.

"Oh!" you gasp, retracting your hand. It feels like real skin and with wide eyes your hand moves closer to his face again, your palm pressing slowly against his cheek.

"Are you alive?" you chuckle to yourself but the doll doesn't answer or move at all, just as you expected.

Your fingers slowly explore the doll's face, his lips are plushy and they seem actually kissable, the material they used, whatever it was, made it seem like they were real human lips.

You lean in closer to take a better look into his eyes, your hand coming up to play with locks of dark hair, which again, seems like real hair, the little curls are soft to the touch and bounce back as you pull on them gently.

Now you're leaning so close to him, and you can smell the nice, comforting scent radiating off of the doll. You've no idea what they used, but he smells fresh and flowery.

"Okay, let's get you out of the box." you lean back and hook your hands under the doll's arms before making it sit up.

His head falls to the side a little, making you feel a bit creeped out because it really seemed like you were handling a dead person instead of an actual doll, but the only indication that it wasn't a dead human is the lightness of it.

He wasn't as light as a feather but he wasn't as heavy as dead weight either.

"Maybe the couch?" you talk to yourself as you look over to your comfy couch, the pillows fluffed up already and a soft blanket thrown over it.

Somehow, thankfully to your regular exercise, you manage to lift the doll into your arms and carry him to the couch.

The way he slumps when you put him down, again freaks you out a little, but for some weird reason you're even more interested in how you can actually use the doll.

You prop him to sit nicely and turn on the tv to some art channel, remembering how the doll 'said' that he likes art.

"I hope that's what you enjoy." you shrug and throw the fluffy blanket over the doll's legs, folding his soft hands into his lap, before you go back to the box to find the manual.

"Here it is." you dig out the booklet and start reading.

They listed the materials but you still had no idea what they were so it flew over your head. There was also a page with pictures of the other dolls and the makers' letter to the customers, thanking them for purchasing the doll.

Flipping the pages, you find what you were looking for.

Your face becomes red as you read the doll's 'abilites', including that his thing can vibrate and cum, he reacts to your touch and that he has a usb charger that gets plugged into the back of his neck.

"W-wow." you nod to yourself as you keep reading until you flip to the last page.

WARNING!

If there are any malfunctions with any part of the doll, please contact our services.

The doll can bathe in water except the charger opening so be aware of that.

Please do not disfigure or mutilate the doll.

Do not throw the doll into the trash.

Do not break, bruise or cut the doll.

If you're not satisfied, you can always return it to us and get your money back.

If you've purchased our Hyunjin doll, do not be too harsh on him considering he's sensitive.

Hope you enjoy the romantic soul you chose!

Bruise? The doll can bruise?

Why are they talking about it like it's alive?

You gulp and turn to look at the couch but the doll is unmoving, turned towards the tv, same position as before.

You peek back into the big box to find another, smaller box inside it, that was beneath the doll's feet earlier.

You carefully take it out, putting it on the floor and opening it curiously.

Inside, you found a change of clothes, more casual looking ones and something to be used as sleep wear. It was like getting a Barbie doll with all her outfits when you were a kid.

So bizzare, yet it made you feel excited in a way.

After getting up, you decide to clean up the mess you made with the bubble wrap and put the box away in your closet, just in case, if you ever wanted to return him.

"Okay." you nod and come back to peek at the doll.

The television screen reflects in his eyes, his hands crossed in his lap, just how you left him and relief washes over you.

Why are you even scared?

You shake your head and decide to prepare lunch.

You're in your kitchen, listening to some slow music as you cook, completely forgetting about the doll sitting in your living room.

That is, until the volume of the tv suddenly increases making you jolt and gasp.

Your back straightens as you turn off the stove.

Slowly turning around, you stare at the direction the sound is coming from.

You swallow and make your way to your couch, you don't know what to expect but the doll is still in the same position you left it, the tv remote is out of his reach, down on the coffee table.

You grab it and decrease the volume before looking back at the doll.

"If that wasn't you, we have ghosts in this apartment. But if it was you, you're obviously wanting my attention." you cross your arms as you stare at him.

Nothing.

"Fine, I will eat lunch with you." you declare before going back to the kitchen to get yourself food.

You mostly eat in front of your tv anyways, not caring about any rules since you live alone, enjoying the freedom it brings you.

Settling down next to Hyunjin, you pull the blanket over your legs too and start eating.

You chuckle to yourself, if someone saw you right now, they'd think you're absolutely insane, sitting down next to an inanimate doll that looks eerily human.

You take a peek at Hyunjin, sighing as he sits still.

"You do look alive. But I'm literally talking to myself." you say and of course get no answer.

Shrugging, you continue about your day, washing dishes and doing laundry, enjoying your selfcare routine after getting your apartment in order, your Hyunjin doll observing your movements from the couch.

In the evening hours, you finally come back to him.

"Are you tired of being in the same position?" you ask, knowing there will be no answer.

"We can have dinner now." you add and leave to the kitchen to bring out some food and a bottle of wine.

"This is insane. Top 5 weirdest things I've done." you talk to yourself as you look down at your black satin nightgown, with lace details on the top, perfectly resting on your chest. "Maybe it even takes up the first place."

You settle next to Hyunjin once again, changing his position a little as you fill up two glasses of wine.

"Our first date, I guess?" you sigh with a chuckle before drinking the wine.

His glass stands full on the coffee table, untouched as you start eating next to him once again.

"I guess I should tell you a bit about myself. I work in an office. I hate my job but it pays the bills." you say, "I always wanted to be in a band though. Played guitar in high school. Never got too far with that. I love art too, you know, any shape or form of it. Maybe that's why I chose you. You seem like an artist. Or you would be if you were real, ha." you chuckle, yapping away as you keep drinking the wine, the doll listening to you without moving.

You keep pouring the wine into both his and your glass but it's only you drinking from both glasses.

It gives you a nice buzz, warmness that spreads through your body and manifests itself between your legs.

Usually, you'd play with your vibrator or dildo but seeing as you got a literal sex doll, you thought you should use him for the purpose he's made for.

"Now, what do I do with you?" you smirk, your hand coming up to play with the doll's hair, twirling the lock in your fingers.

"I mean, I can do anything I want." you nod, scooting closer to the doll.

"I feel fucking crazy." you laugh, pulling the covers off of Hyunjin.

Your hand is pressed on his thigh as you touch him gently through his clothes, your mind still marvelling at the fact that he feels like a real human being.

"I'm curious." you whisper, your fingertip playing with the button of his shirt, wanting to see what he looks like underneath the nice clothes they made him wear.

Slowly, you start unbuttoning the doll, taking your time with it, as anticipation builds up, creating a swirl of excitement inside you.

When you pop open the last button, you open up the shirt and gasp.

"Wow." you lick your lips at the sight, the doll's nipples look aroused, his stomach is toned, it looks like there's a vein leading down into his pants making your eyes fall down at his crotch.

You still have no idea how they made him look so real but you're eager to explore, planting your hands on his chest, running them up and down to his stomach, tracing the vein with your fingertips.

You run your hands back up to his nipples and flick them gently with your thumb before pinching them experimentally.

Gasping, you notice a growing bulge in the doll's pants.

"Am I pushing the right buttons?" you chuckle at your own joke as you continue playing with his nipples.

Your impatience however doesn't let you stall for too long, so your hands make their way down to the hem of his pants.

"Let's see." with a smirk you unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down with a little struggle as you have to lift him up a little.

You place your hands on his thighs, squeezing the flesh a little, watching as his cock twitches like he was really alive.

"You really do react to touch." you gasp in wonder, what kind of technology was this?

They even put underwear on him which you think is a nice touch but at this point, you were too curious not to slide them off immediately.

"Woah!" you gasp as his cock springs free of its confines.

You think it's the biggest and most beautiful cock you've ever seen, framed by a neatly cut bush, a visible vein running up the whole length.

You stare at it for a little while before you wrap your hand around it, your other hand fondling his balls.

It feels real once again, like he's throbbing and twitching, hot and heavy on your palm, a bead of precum at the tip.

"What in the hell?" you mumble, your finger swiping at the tip as you gather the liquid and bring it to your lips.

You suck your finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and tasting the sweetness of the doll.

How he tasted so sweet was beyond you.

"Fuck it." you chuckle, pulling off your nightgown and tossing it aside, which leaves you completely naked like the doll is.

"I didn't even kiss you. Not very romantic of me." you smirk as you throw your leg over Hyunjin, sitting in his lap, your wet folds pressed against his cock.

You lean in and press a kiss to his lips, and of course the doll doesn't kiss back but his lips move with your movement and it feels good as you grind on his hard length.

"Look at you. Letting me do all the work like all the rest of them." you scoff with a smirk and at that, the doll's cock twitches a little too hard against you, almost pushing inside you.

"Wow. Someone's excited." you stare at the doll's eyes but there is nothing in there to indicate that he was in fact listening to you.

"For how much you cost, I hope this is worth it." you shrug and grip the base of his cock, guiding it inside you.

Sitting down on his length has you gasping as he fills you up perfectly, like his cock was made exactly for your pussy to take.

Your grip the doll's shoulders and use it for what you intended to when you clicked on that purchase button.

No matter how turned on you are though, staring at Hyunjin's almost expressionless face proves to be a turn off so you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you press your chest to his and continue bouncing on him.

Save for the fact that his hands lay limp on the side, his skin feels human and he feels kind of warm, like there was something inside the doll, warming it up.

"F-fuck." you whimper as the head of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, it's like the more wet you get and the harder you fuck on him, his cock responds to you.

"R-right hand for activation." you repeat the instruction from the manual, as you blindly search for his right hand, sliding your fingertips on his wrist to his palm, your head leaned on his shoulder as you slowly gyrate your hips.

Your fingers interlace with his and it feels almost like Hyunjin grips your hand back, making you jump a little but before you can move away, his cock starts vibrating inside you.

"A-ah!" you moan loudly as your other arm curls around him, holding onto him while you fiddle with his fingers, your legs clamping around him as you start falling apart.

"G-gonna cum!" you whimper, burying your face in Hyunjin's neck and he smells so nice, feels so good as his cock keeps vibrating against your spot, bringing you to your high quickly.

The ecstasy you feel as the vibrations persist, prolonging your orgasm, overstimulating you while you ride the feeling makes you miss the single blink that Hyunjin's eyes make before returning to their original glassy and unmoving state.

"Too much." you whimper, squeezing his thumb and the vibrations stop.

You know that the left hand brings a happy end to the doll but you're not sure if you're done with it yet.

Leaning back to finally look at his face has you a little disappointed as you don't notice any kind of change on his face.

"Kinda wish you were real." you whisper, hugging the doll as you start bouncing on his hard cock again, bringing yourself easily to another orgasm.

You squeeze the doll's left hand after that, and feel spurts of warm cum shooting inside you as his cock twitches, the head bruising against your spot violently as he fills you up with copious amounts of the sticky substance.

You're pretty sure the neighbors can hear you moan as you cum again, the feeling of being filled up to the brim satisfies you and has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Wow." you breathe hard, your cheek leaned on Hyunjin's shoulder as you grip his wrists while you come down.

You lean back to look at the doll again.

Were his lips slightly upturned before?

In the fogginess of your orgasms, you couldn't tell or think straight.

"Be right back." you slide off of him and make your way to the bathroom, taking a quick five minute shower before you grab a wet cloth to clean the doll up.

He sits how you left him, and you kneel between his legs to clean him up carefully.

His cock is not completely soft nor hard anymore, it's somewhere in the middle, but as you touch it gently, it seems to react and twitch again.

"You came already." you smirk and experimentally pinch the tip of Hyunjin's cock, but nothing happens except the member twitching again.

You stand up with a sigh, covering him with the blanket again before you leave for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Just as you turn on the water to wash your mouth out, you hear something akin to a sigh coming from your living room.

You freeze, turning off the water and listening closely but you only hear the quiet buzz of the lamp above your mirror.

Maybe you were just imagining things.

You shake your head and finish your business before going back to Hyunjin.

"I'm too tired to dress you now, but boxers should be enough." you say and struggle to get him dressed, almost giving up during the process.

"I should just keep you naked in my bed to avoid the hassle." you say, lifting him up and carrying him to your bed.

"Cuddles, right? I do love me some cuddles too." you say with a tired smile as you adjust Hyunjin in your bed.

You join him under the covers and lean on your elbow as you lay sideways, staring down at him.

"How'd they make you look and feel so real?" your hand is on his cheek, and you trace his eyebrows, his nose and lips.

Fingertips travel to his ears, down to his neck and his chest.

"Don't come alive and scare me while I'm sleeping, Hyunjin." a shadow passes in his eyes as you say his name but you're too busy caressing his toned stomach to notice.

"Night." you kiss his lips before turning off the lamp and laying your head on his shoulder.

Somehow, you adjust his arms so that it seems like he's holding you and you throw your leg over his, your hand tracing patterns on his chest and side.

It was like hugging and kissing your pillow in high school, except this one took the shape of a human being.

With thoughts and questions about Hyunjin swimming in your head, you fall asleep quickly, not noticing how the doll's arms tighten around you ever so slightly.

Early in the morning as your alarm starts blaring loudly and annoyingly, you groan and stir, almost forgetting about Hyunjin being next to you.

"Oh!" you gasp. "Good morning, dolly." you say after turning the alarm off, as he stares at the ceiling.

"Sadly, I gotta go to work and leave you here alone. You better behave while I'm out." you lift a finger up menacingly, but there's a playful smile on your face.

"Man, I'm crazy." you shake your head before leaning in to leave a nice, wet smooch on Hyunjin's cheek.

"I'll come say bye before I leave."

And you do so, after eating breakfast and getting ready, you're back in your room.

"Should I put you in the living room so you can watch tv?"

The doll never answers.

"Maybe, yeah. You'll be bored lying in bed all day." you nod and carry Hyunjin to your couch.

You make him comfy, cover him with the blanket, card your fingers through his messy hair and then turn on the tv, leaving the remote in his lap.

"Gonna be late because of you." you sigh and lean down to place a kiss on the doll's lips.

"Be a good doll."

And with that you finally leave your apartment.

All day at work, you can't help but wonder if your Hyunjin doll somehow came alive, and for some reason you were looking forward to seeing him even if he didn't.

"What's got you so happy? Finally got laid?" your coworker chuckles as you stand in the office kitchen making yourself some coffee, you know she always gossips about you behind your back so you don't wanna give her the time of the day.

"Mind your business, Amanda." you answer quickly, turning to leave back to your office.

"Okay, you didn't then." she calls behind you with a giggle but you decide to ignore her.

"Fucking bitch." you mutter to yourself as you close the door.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully and you can't wait to drive back home to Hyunjin.

"I'm home!" you yell out as soon as you step inside, hearing that the tv is still on, nothing out of the ordinary.

You make your way to your living room to find Hyunjin in the exact same position as you left him almost 9 hours ago, the remote still next to his right hand, the same channel you turned on this morning on the tv.

For some reason, your shoulders slump.

"Well, I guess you've been a good doll and took my warning literally." you shrug a little.

"Still, I want to reward you. As soon as I eat and take a nap that is." you add and go about your routine, eating lunch, taking a shower and of course changing into your comfy clothes, which at this time of the year consisted of an oversized t-shirt and panties.

"Let's take a nap together, dolly." you say to Hyunjin as you lift him up and move him to your bed again.

You lay him on his side, then mirror his position, taking his arm and wrapping it around your waist, the other comfortably under your neck.

Tracing patterns on his stomach and chest again, you start talking.

"Your life is so easy. From the couch to the bed, you don't even have to work or go anywhere. Meanwhile, I have to endure fucking Amanda every day at work. Do you have any idea how bitchy that woman is?", you talk as you cuddle your doll. "She has to know eeeeverything about eeeeeveryone. Soon, she'll crawl up my ass just to look at my insides."

You look at Hyunjin's face and for a moment it seems as if his eyes moved.

"Are you listening to me, perhaps?" you whisper, your hand on his cheek. "I know I'm probably crazy. But I'm glad I got you. Even though you're a bit creepy, you bring me comfort." you add, tucking your head into his neck.

"I'm gonna sleep now."

Slowly blinking your eyes awake, you feel warmness enveloping you that's not coming just from your blanket but from Hyunjin.

Quickly, you realize that somehow his thigh ended up pressed against your core, your leg thrown over him as you scooted closer to him in sleep.

"Oh." a little sound escapes your lips as you grind against his warm thigh, feeling wetness on your panties.

Before looking up at him, you press a kiss to his collarbone and it seems like his thigh moves against you once, making you jolt.

"Hey." you look up at him, but his eyes are unmoving as always.

You observe his face but the throbbing between your legs makes you grind against him again.

"F-feels good." you whimper, leaning in and kissing him, letting your tongue dart out and lick at the plump lips.

You feel his erection press against your other thigh, the one flush against him and you chuckle a little.

"Someone likes me a lot." you say, leaning back to look at him.

It looks like there's a small smile on his face that you swear wasn't there before.

"Hm." you squint your eyes as you stop your movements.

"Gotta try something." you declare after a moment of silence, lifting up and removing the blanket.

You push Hyunjin on his back, hooking your fingers in his boxers and pulling them off of him.

"Aw, you really do like me a lot." you smirk at the sight of the doll's cock, twitching and leaking again like it did yesterday.

"I'll give you some attention, you deserved it."

You spread his legs, adjusting them so you can kneel between his thighs and you lean down.

"I haven't done this in a while. You can't complain though." you chuckle a little as you grip his cock and let your tongue dart out, catching the sweet tasting precum with it.

You don't understand how he tastes so sweet, it's hard to put your finger on what exactly the taste is but it makes you want more so you swirl your tongue around his head, your moans muffled as you swallow the sweet liquid.

"Mm. Fuck you taste good." you whine and put your lips around him again, slowly taking more of him in as you bob your head up and down.

Sucking cock like that is not your favorite thing to do, sometimes it makes you feel uncomfortable but having Hyunjin be so still and so tasty has your arousal pooling on your panties and you keep wanting more.

You take as much as you can, coating his cock in your saliva, your tongue pressing along his vein as you fondle his balls has him twitching inside you.

You smirk and grip his left hand, spurts of hot cum hitting your throat and it tastes even sweeter than before as you whimper and swallow everything.

"Damn hot." you whine, quickly getting rid of your shirt and panties, before you take his now completely wet cock in your hand and start jerking him off to make him hard for you again.

It doesn't take long to excite the doll and you decide to turn your back to him and fuck on his cock like that so that you don't have to look into his lifeless eyes while pleasing yourself.

You sit on him and push his cock inside yourself, your warm cunt engulfing his entire length easily.

"Mm." you gyrate your hips as you close your eyes and enjoy teasing yourself, your wet pussy coating his navel and balls.

"God, you're perfect Hyunjin." you whine and start fucking on him.

In the deep throes of passion as you bounce on him, your nails digging into his thighs for support, your eyes closed in pure bliss, you don't notice anything.

You don't notice Hyunjin blinking, his lips opening to speak but nothing comes out.

He can't move no matter how hard he tries and once again his eyes go back to the glassy state they're always in.

"Gonna cum." you whine loudly, gripping his right hand and he starts vibrating inside you, pushing you over the edge and making you scream as you squirt all over him.

"Fuck." you whine as your eyes focus, noticing you have left red marks in his thighs.

"Oh. Did I hurt you?" you gasp, your fingertips gently running over the marks.

"Didn't mean to." you look back at him but he lays still.

His cock twitches inside you and you grip his left hand, making the doll fill you up as you slowly ride him.

You lift up slowly, his cum sliding down your inner thigh together with your release.

"Made a mess of you, dolly." you look at the state of him.

"Maybe a bath?" he doesn't answer but still you prepare a bath and place him in it, careful of the usb opening on his neck.

You get inside after him, settling between his legs and leaning your back on his chest.

"Why are you so warm, Hyunjin?" you caress his arm as you hold it, his other one thrown over your stomach.

Sighing, you lean on his shoulder and close your eyes, trying to relax in the warm water, as Hyunjin 'held' you.

You still couldn't understand how they made him, but you were willing not to think about that, as he brought you a kind of comfort you didn't expect, making you wanna indulge in that feeling for as long as you could.

It's been exactly two months since you've gotten your Hyunjin doll, and ever since then you've loved spending every day with him.

You talked to him like he was alive, you watched movies with him, you read him books, you slept next to him every single night, you brought him to the kitchen so he can watch you cook, you even took him on late night drives sometimes, feeling bad that he was locked up in the apartment all day.

Sometimes, you thought you saw a flicker in his eyes, a slight smile on his face, or his fingers twitching against his thighs.

Some nights, while you're half asleep, you could swear that he tightened his hold on you or his chest lifted up and down like he was breathing.

Some days, as you'd come home from work you found him in a slightly different position than you left him.

One time, you sat him next to the window so you could watch rain together, and when you came back from making some tea, there was a heart shape in the fog on the glass.

"Did you do this dolly?" you caress his hair and look at him closely but he doesn't react.

You sigh, tracing another heart next to the first one before you sit in his lap, bringing the warm cup to your lips and observing him.

You thought you were going crazy in the beginning but as time passed by, you were becoming sure that there was more to Hyunjin than you initially knew.

"Just say something if you can hear me. Or squeeze my hand." you try for the nth time as you sit on your couch with Hyunjin but nothing happens.

"Fine." you huff. "Maybe you want something first. What would you like? I bought you new clothes. Maybe you want something else like... like something to do with art? We can paint together, if you'd like."

Hyunjin doesn't answer.

Nevertheless, you bring your art supplies and a bottle of wine.

You make yourself comfortable on the floor, next to Hyunjin's legs as he sits on the couch.

You end up being the one painting and drinking, Hyunjin's eyes move to look down at you, the look in his eyes softens, unlike the glassy one he always has.

He wants to talk, he wants to lean over and caress your hair, he wants to taste the wine off of your lips and feel the paintbrush between his fingertips.

But he can't. His eyes become glassy again as your phone rings, jolting you out of your peaceful activity.

It's your mother.

The conversation starts as always and it escalates into a fight of when are you settling down, why aren't you married, why are you closing yourself off, why are you such a failure?

As soon as you hang up a sob escapes your lips and you fall into Hyunjin, seeking comfort as you wrap your limbs around him, your face buried in his neck and your hot tears sliding down from your cheeks to his shirt, soaking it up.

"No one would understand." you cry. "They'd say I'm crazy and maybe I am. But I don't give a fuck."

Your body trembles against Hyunjin as you hiccup and sniffle, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your leg thrown over his thighs.

His body seems warmer than before and you squeeze him a little.

"Maybe I'm fucking crazy for loving a doll. But I love you Hyunjin." you sigh, closing your eyes as you lean against him.

His eyelids flutter a few times. He blinks.

A deep breath through his nose and you almost miss the way his chest moves up.

You place your hand on his chest, and feel it.

A heart beat slowly forming, at first almost too slow to be normal until it becomes steady and then speeds up.

He's breathing, his lips are dry as he licks at them, his hands clutch onto you and you scream.

You jump up quickly, your eyes wide as you look at him.

Hyunjin looks back up at you, his eyes wide and filled with fear and shock, mirroring yours.

He opens his mouth and a series of coughs escape his lips.

"Wh- How? Am I hallucinating?"

"Y- y/n." is the first thing he says, weakly and quietly as he reaches out for you.

You stay still as a statue, not sure what the hell is happening before your eyes.

"P-please, don't be scared." he begs as he tries to get up but his legs give out and he falls to the floor with a thud.

"Ugh." he whimpers, his hands grabbing at the coffee table.

You're slow to react to him falling from the shock of it all, making your way back to him cautiously.

"Did you hurt yourself?" you ask quietly.

"N-no, I don't think so." he says as he looks up at you.

"Who- who are you?" you don't know what else to ask, because the doll you used and played with was now a human with a heartbeat and he was looking at you, even knew your name.

"What do you mean? I'm- I'm Hyunjin, your romantic doll." he answers like it's the most normal thing ever.

"How are you alive? Why now all of a sudden? I don't get it." you say as he sits back on his legs.

"You... You love me. Your love brought me to life." he swallows, his cheeks rosy.

"Oh... There was nothing about this in the manual." The fucking manual. The doll's actual purpose. Everything you ever did to him. Embarassment washes over you and you feel absolutely mortified.

"Do you... did you hear me all this time? And um, see and feel what I was doing?"

"Y-yeah." he nods, his cheeks becoming even more red.

"Fucking hell." you whine, covering your face with your hands as you sit on the couch.

"Hey, it's okay. I- I was made for that." he says, his hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.

You peek at him through your fingers.

"And you were so nice to me. So... warm and loving. You made me feel so good. You never mistreated me even when you knew very well you could do whatever you want with me. I'm thankful for that. And I- I love you too, y/n." Hyunjin talks, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

"Are you programmed to say stuff like that? Are you a robot?"

He chuckles.

"I'm not programmed and I'm not a robot. Didn't you feel my heart beating?"

"I did but... I don't understand. How were you made?" you finally remove your hands from your face.

"I don't know. I wish I could answer your questions but I'm as clueless as you are. I just know I was conscious the whole time while I was with you but I couldn't speak or move. Like I was paralyzed. It was horrible. I tried giving you signs, I tried to talk multiple times but it's like something would hold me back, like there was a wall and I couldn't break through."

"That does sound horrible. I'm sorry if I ever did something you wouldn't agree to." you say quietly, your face burning in embarassment.

"No, no, I liked everything you did." he says with a sheepish smile, averting his eyes. "Wish I could reciprocate." he looks up at you through his lashes.

You're biting on your lip nervously, his hand reaches for you and you accidentally snatch yours away, not used to your doll talking to you and trying to touch you.

"A-are you gonna abandon me now?" he asks quietly as he eyes your hand.

"What?" you look back at him to see that his eyes are watery and you gasp. "No, of course not! I always wished you'd come to life. Didn't think it would actually happen so I'm still processing and hoping that I'm not dreaming."

"Oh, thank god." he exhales and you let him grab your hand. "I- uhm... I'm very hungry and thirsty. Could you help me with that?"

"Oh! Of course! I will make some dinner for us." you say and help him sit up on the couch, noticing that now he's heavier than he used to be.

"I guess I still need to get feeling in my legs and arms." he says as you bring him a glass of water.

"Mhm, probably you need to have blood pumping properly through your body. Don't worry." you pet his hair as he drinks and he looks at you.

"Here, you'll be warm like this." you wrap him up in your fluffy blanket and notice a change on the back of his neck.

"Oh!" you exclaim, your fingertips touching the skin there, making Hyunjin shiver a little.

"The usb opening is gone." you declare and he brings his hand to touch it, your fingertips grazing against each other.

"That's weird." he says absentmindedly.

"All of this is weird." you chuckle and he chuckles with you, making you look at him.

God, he's even more beautiful with a smile gracing his face, you think to yourself.

Without thinking your hands gently cup his cheeks.

"You're really alive." you whisper, your thumbs gently stroking his face, his eyes flutter as he pushes into your hands.

"I am. Does that make you happy?" he asks with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Very happy." you nod with a smile, leaning closer to him.

"Good. I want to make you happy. When you're happy, I'm happy too."

"Hyunjinnie." you whine against his lips and kiss him gently.

Having him kiss back as he clutches at your shirt is the sweetest thing ever, you think as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Okay, I don't want you to starve now that you came to life." you lean back with a chuckle as he chases your lips.

"Yeah, please, I need food." he nods and you make your way to the kitchen, whipping up a quick dinner, checking constantly if he's okay.

You bring two plates as soon as you're done and Hyunjin's eyes seem to get bigger as soon as they land on the food.

"Be careful, it's still hot." you warn him.

"Okay." Hyunjin nods.

He eats happily, asking for more which you of course bring to him.

"Are you feeling better?" you ask when the two of you finish eating.

"Yes, much better. But I feel very tired now."

"You need sleep. Let's go to bed. Do you think you can walk now?"

"I think so." you grab his arm and help him become steady on his feet.

You lead him to the bathroom and he looks at you.

"Now that you're alive, you need to brush your teeth and wash up before bed."

"Right." he nods.

After a whole ordeal of getting ready, you finally plop down under the covers.

"Can I- Can I hold you?" Hyunjin asks sweetly and you chuckle, rolling your body into his.

"Of course."

"Always wanted to do that." his limbs wrap around you as he holds you tightly, your face buried in his chest.

"Good night, Hyunjin. Please be there when I wake up." you nuzzle into him, inhaling the familiar fresh and flowery scent of him.

"I promise I will. Good night, y/n."

It wasn't a dream.

Your eyes flutter open and Hyunjin smiles at you fondly, his hand gently caressing your cheek.

"Morning, dol- Hyunjin."

"You can call me dolly if that's what you like." he smirks and you chuckle.

"Eh, well you're human now. It feels like I'm degrading you." you gently touch his chest.

"I don't mind." he shifts and you feel his erection press against your thigh.

You gasp a little, your core throbbing with want.

"I'm sorry." his face is red instantly. "It's just- when you touch me... I can't help it."

"It's okay, Hyunjinnie." you slide your hand down to cup him through his boxers.

He whimpers, leaning into you, his eyes fluttering shut and you press your lips on his in a heated kiss.

His tongue licks at your lower lip and you let him in, eager to finally feel his kisses how you craved to.

Hyunjin kisses you messily and hungrily, grinding into your hand, grunting against your lips.

As soon as you slide off his boxers, automatically your hands lift up to push him on his back but he grabs your wrists gently to stop you.

"My sweet girl, let me take care of you how you deserve now that I'm able to." he rasps, his eyes hooded as he looks at you with lust.

"O-okay." you whisper and lay down on your back, letting Hyunjin slide your panties off as you pull off your shirt and toss it somewhere aside.

"I've spent so much time receiving. I want to give, my angel. My hands hurt when I couldn't touch you and make you feel good. That's all I want to do." he sounds desperate as his lips attach to your neck, leaving wet kisses on your skin, his hands roaming on your body and settling on your breasts.

"Mm, make me feel good, Jinnie." you whimper as he squeezes your breasts, massaging them and moaning against your skin like it was more pleasurable to him than to you.

He mumbles sweet praises as he leaves more kisses that lead to your nipple, his tongue darting out to swirl around it, making you arch into him.

His eyes are dark as he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking, his other hand sliding down to grip your inner thigh.

Fingertips ghost on your skin, both his hands now spreading your legs apart.

"Do you know how much I longed to taste your sweet nectar? Will you let me drink from you, my angel?" Hyunjin asks, his finger gently pressing into your clit, circling it.

"Yes, please, oh my god." you whimper, your hips lifting up into his touch.

He smirks, trailing kisses down to your core.

He stops for a moment to admire you and you don't even have time to feel self-conscious as he spreads your pussy lips apart and leans in to stick his tongue inside you.

"F-fuck!" you jolt as he starts moving it before he leans back a little and licks at your sensitive clit.

"Taste even sweeter than I imagined." he moans, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucks on it, his thumbs gently caressing your pussy lips.

"H-H-Hyunjin!" you whimper as he sucks harder, your hips lifting up in pleasure.

"Could be here for hours. Eating this sweet pussy out." he moans, pushing his tongue inside you again, this time fucking you faster, his nose giving the perfect pressure on your sensitive nub and driving you crazy.

Your hand grips his hair, pushing him more into you as he skilfully moves his tongue, his lips pressing into your lower ones as he makes out with you.

Your orgasm washes over you quickly, coating Hyunjin's face and he laps it all up greedily, his eyes shut as he whimpers into you, sending vibrations right into your core.

You feel crazy with desire the more he continues eating you out like a man starved and you have to grip his hair and pull him away after he gives you two more orgasms.

"H-Hyune, please, I need your cock." you whimper, feeling like you're falling apart.

He licks at his red lips, his eyes crazed with lust he feels for you.

"Anything my angel needs." his voice is husky as he leans over you, the tip of his cock pressed against your wet, messy cunt.

He pushes in with ease, after all, you've been fucking on him for the last two months, your pussy was used to the stretch.

"Mm, Hyunjin!" that doesn't make it feel less pleasurable when he fills you up, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

"Move, please." you whimper, already feeling out of it.

Hyunjin grips your thighs and starts fucking you at a steady pace, his cock dragging against your walls deliciously, sliding easily through your wetness.

"Feel so good. So warm. Just for me." he whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut before they open again and look down where his cock disappears inside you.

"Just for you, Jinnie." you moan and he looks up at you, a smile on his face.

He leans closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and in turn you wrap yours around his shoulders, bringing your bodies flush together as he buries himself deep inside your heat.

He ruts into you desperately, your lips meeting in messy kisses, spit dribbles down your chin and he licks at it, kissing your jaw and your neck wetly.

"P-please tell me you love me." he whimpers in your ear, holding you tightly as he fucks you harder, only taking a little bit of his length out and shoving it back in with force that has your mind spinning.

"I love you, Hyunjin. I love you. So much." you cry happy tears, making him cry too as you clutch onto each other.

"My angel, I love you more than anything." he says as he kisses you, his tongue playing with yours.

He brings you to another orgasm, his fingers on your nipples, pinching and pulling as he keeps rutting into you desperately.

"C-can I cum?" he whimpers, his hands gripping desperately at your waist.

"Yeah." you nod quickly and he gives you his left hand to squeeze and as your fingers entwine, he cums, filling you up endlessly, more than when he was just doll and you whimper as your legs clamp around him, lifting your middle into him and cumming with him again.

Both of you breathe hard as he stays inside you for a moment, before pulling out and watching his cum drip out of you.

"D-do I still have to squeeze your left hand for you to cum?" you chuckle a little.

"No, just... force of habit, I guess." he says sheepishly like he didn't just fuck your brains out.

"What about the vibrations?"

"You really liked that, didn't you?" he smirks, his hand sliding up your thigh tentatively, before his fingers slide between your folds, playing with the wetness.

"Shut up." you say embarassingly, swatting his hand away.

"Don't worry, I can vibrate if you want." he bites on his lip as he looks at you.

"I'm too sensitive now." you whisper and he chuckles.

"I know. Usually you don't go above four, five orgasms in one sitting. Maybe six if you're extra horny."

"It's embarassing to me that you know this in such detail." your face becomes red as Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head.

"Nothing you should be embarassed about. I'm happy to please you." he says and leans down to kiss you gently.

You pull him into your embrace, hoping that from now on, he stays human, and keeps loving you because in this moment you can't imagine your life without Hyunjin in it.

"Thank you for letting me use your painting supplies." Hyunjin smiles up at you as he sits on the floor of your living room, like you always did when you painted.

"Don't thank me, Jinnie. What's mine is yours." you smile as you sit next to him and lean in closer.

"Let me see." you say as he looks down sheepishly.

He pushes the sketchbook towards you and you gasp.

"Hyunjin, this is amazing! How did you manage to paint so well?! And you painted me! That's so sweet."

"I- I don't know. As I started, it's like I got déjà vu, like I already did this before and many times so."

"Really? That's peculiar." you say.

"Maybe we should call the company I got you from." you add, tapping your chin.

"P-please don't!" Hyunjin panics, gripping at your thigh. "I'm scared. I don't know why but when I try to think of that place, it feels bad. Please don't call them. I don't want them to take me away from you."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. No one will take you away from me. I won't call them." you quickly grab his face to calm him down.

"You promise?" his pupils shake as he looks at you.

"I promise." you nod and kiss him sweetly to let him know he can trust you.

Hyunjin visibly relaxes with your touch, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his face in your neck.

"Um... could we go outside? We only ever went on night drives which is understandable but now that I can walk and stuff, we could go out on real dates and maybe visit museums?" he looks up at you with a smile.

"Of course! Anywhere you want to go." you smile back at him, and he leans up to kiss you.

For the next several weeks, you take Hyunjin everywhere.

To the park, the movies, museums, to a club, to different restaurants, to a mall, anything that comes to your mind, the two of you decide to visit, even going to a little town nearby for a day trip.

You don't remember the last time you were this happy and had someone next to you who made everything look so easy and sweet.

Hyunjin had taken an interest in capturing all the pretty moments so you got him a camera, deciding to surprise him for your 6 month anniversary.

As you came home from work, you called out to him but there was no answer.

"Jinnie? Are you sleeping?" you pushed the bedroom door open but the bed was vacant.

A heavy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach as you searched your entire apartment and couldn't find him.

Frantically, you looked for him again, knowing that he didn't suddenly become Barbie sized and hid somewhere.

He was gone.

You ran out of your apartment to knock on your neighbor's door.

"Tony! Did you see Hyunjin today maybe?" you asked him as soon as he opened the door.

"No, I didn't, sorry." he shook his head.

You didn't know what to do so you went back to your apartment and burst into tears.

Hyunjin didn't have a phone you could contact him with as he never had the need to use one so you had no way of reaching him.

All you could do was sit and wait, biting your nails as every single scenario runs through your mind.

He will come back, you reassure yourself as you fall asleep from exhaustion.

And he does, around 10pm the door clicks open and you jolt up from your nap on the couch.

"Hyunjin?" you say into the dark space and he turns on the light, standing in the middle of your living room with two gift bags in his hand and an apologetic look on his face.

"Oh my god, Hyunjin!" you jump to your feet, running to him and throwing your arms around him, squeezing him tightly and almost knocking him down as the bags fall out of his hands and he wraps his arms around your waist.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I should've left you a note. I-I went out to get a gift for our anniversary tommorow."

"Please, don't ever disappear like that again. Do you have any idea how scared I was?" you cry and Hyunjin gasps, his hands on your face as he wipes away your tears.

"I'm really sorry. I will never ever do something like this again." his eyes water too.

"I should get you a phone." you shake your head. "Hey, how did you even manage to buy a gift? You don't have any money." you chuckle, wiping at your cheeks.

"I went to the park and painted portraits of people for money, then got the gift."

"Oh, Jinnie, you sweet fool. Just don't give me any more scares."

"I promise I won't." he nods and your lips seal in a kiss.

Despite having so many options to choose from now, Hyunjin and you decide to have a nice dinner at home for your anniversary, where it all started.

You even took out the most expensive plates and silverware you owned, adding some candles to create a more intimate atmosphere, some light romantic music playing in the background.

"Y/n, I um- got you something I'd like to see you wear tonight for me."

"Oh, you did?" you smirk. "Show it to me."

Hyunjin grabs one of the gift bags and reaches it to you with an excited smile.

You chuckle and peek inside, seeing that he got you black and red lacy lingerie as well as a dress.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

"Very much so." you take out the dress and touch the silky material. "This dress is very revealing." you notice the opened back and the deep neck line that would definitely almost make your breasts fall out.

"I was counting on the fact that we celebrate here because you in that dress is for my eyes only." his eyes darken suddenly.

"Oh yeah? Let me get ready for our dinner then." you chuckle and make your way to the bathroom.

Hyunjin decides to wear the clothes he arrived in, since those were the only fancy clothing items he owned, and he thought it was kind of symbolic to put them on tonight.

You walk into your bedroom to find Hyunjin dressed and staring at the big box he was packed in, one you still didn't get rid of.

"Jinnie?" you call out as he seems to be deep in thought.

"You kept the box." he says, still looking at it.

"I did. I had no idea what I was getting into so I left it just in case. I was gonna throw it out, it's just really heavy." you explain, making your way to him.

"When you arrived, two men had to carry the box in, and somehow the box seemed heavier than you. I barely managed to get it into the closet. Had to push it and stuff. Sorry I didn't have the chance to get rid of it."

"It's okay, y/n. You don't have to apologize." he smiles as he turns towards you.

"Oh." a gasp leaves his lips as he sees you all dressed up for him.

"You like?" you smirk, winking at him.

"Mhm." he nods quickly. "You look stunning, my angel."

"Thank you, Jinnie. You look handsome."

His cheeks seem to become more red with the praise as he mutters, his eyes darting left and right.

You enjoy your dinner together, romantic music playing in the background, the tv mute, left on just from the habit of it.

After you finish eating, you migrate to the couch to cuddle and drink wine, some stupid show playing on the screen and the two of you jokingly read from the character's lips, making up nonsensical conversations and laughing.

After some time and some more wine, Hyunjin becomes even more handsy than usual, grabbing at your thighs, sliding his hands on the silky material of the dress.

You melt into him, kissing him as your arms wrap around his shoulders, your tongues languidly massaging each other as your core throbs with need.

Hyunjin caresses you gently, his hands worshipping you, sliding down your throat, to your collarbone, to the swell of your breasts, down to your stomach and waist, landing on your hips.

His lips attach to your neck as he leaves wet kisses on your skin, licking at it and sinking his teeth in.

"Mm." you moan, playing with his hair as he kisses your collarbone and the flesh of your breast, leaving another love bite on the soft skin.

His hands travel under your dress, roaming around on your legs and your eyes open, landing on the tv, making you gasp.

"Hyunjin, that's you!" you jolt, pointing at the screen.

"Huh?" he mumbles, already drunk on you.

You quickly grab the remote and turn on the sound.

"...seemingly the dolls have some kind of malfunction that the company does not wish to reveal to the public. All eight of the purchased dolls are required to be returned and the buyers will get their money back, guaranteed. The customers will be contacted accordingly..."

"M-my friends. I vaguely remember them." Hyunjin breathes quickly, you can see that he's getting upset quickly. "They wanna take me away from you."

"I won't let them." you quickly shake your head.

"What are we gonna do?" he asks, clenching his fists and you gently grab his hands, trying to soothe him.

"We're gonna... leave."

"Leave?"

"Yeah, I have a house my aunt left me up in the mountains. I don't think they can find us there. For now, until we think of where to go next." you start planning immediately.

There was no way you would let anyone take Hyunjin away from you.

"But, what about your job? And your things?" Hyunjin bites on his lip.

"I don't care. All I care about right now is making sure you're safe." you smile at him, your hand coming up to caress his cheek.

Hyunjin smiles, leaning into your touch and wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you." he whispers into your hair.

You get a call from an unknown number the next day, but one quick google search tells you it's the company Hyunjin came from.

You packed one bag of a few essential things you'd need, leaving most of your belongings behind.

"Y/n! There's a black van posted outside. It's been there for hours. They're looking at the building right now." Hyunjin announces and you make your way to the window, half hiding behind him.

"We need to use the fire exit." you declare and Hyunjin nods as he turns to you.

"I won't let them take you. I promise." you hold his hands.

"I trust you, my angel." he smiles and you kiss him gently before the two of you exit the building, quickly entering your car.

You step on the gas, and reach out to hold Hyunjin's hand in yours.

As you speed off into the sunset, hoping for a better tomorrow, a black van rounds the corner, following you from afar...

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @lixies-favorite-cookie

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: K-Pop Demon Hunters has me in a chokehold and I have so many ideas floating around in my head but I’m really bad at actually writing and executing them. But I had to write something to help with this fixation. Also, I don’t know how the Honmoon works. Like, can anyone alter or control it after some training? Do you need to be born with a certain predisposition? So, I kinda just made some stuff up.

Edit: Now has Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

‼️SPOILERS FOR KPDH‼️

“Okay, you guys are just going down there, right? I’m gonna go pick up some groceries,” You tell the three girls in disguise.

“Thanks, (Y/n)!”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).”

Sighing, you wave over your shoulder as you separate from the girls. You managed their wardrobe and visuals, you were able to take the vague ideas in their heads and their music and bring them together in stunning visuals while maintaining their individual styles and own input.

But, you were also Rumi’s twin sister. You grew up alongside her under the guidance of your Aunt Celine. You trained with her, learning to fight, dance, and sing with her. However… You were never able to tap into the Honmoon like her or Mira or Zoey.

Which meant you couldn’t debut with your sister or help her with the Honmoon. All you could do was support her and the other girls how your Aunt Celine taught you: Cover up, keep your patterns hidden, cook for them, clean for them, make sure they always look beautiful, no fractures or faults in their image. And no faults of your own must ever be visible either.

You love your sister, there was never any doubt about that. And you love Mira and Zoey too, they were practically your sisters too. But you couldn’t help but feel… invisible and jealous sometimes. You wanted to perform too. Just once.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You were shaken from your thoughts by a smooth, male voice and a colorful flier being held out to you. Looking further up, your eyes widened and your face warmed at the sight of such a handsome guy right in front of you. You were no stranger to beauty working in the idol industry, but wow. Soft, black hair, warm brown eyes, clear skin and a soft smile. Your heart couldn’t help but skip.

“Uhm, I’m sorry,” You shook your head, trying to focus on listening to what the boy said. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, your face still hot, “Can I help you?”

He smiled kindly, “My friends and I are having our debut performance this afternoon just a street over. We’d love for you to come watch and support us.”

Flustered by his charm and his beauty, you took the flier from him. “The Saja Boys…” You read. Looking around, you tried to spot the rest of his group.

You were startled when an arm suddenly landed on your shoulders. Actually, make that two arms.

Looking up, two more gorgeously unreal guys were on each side of you, an arm around each of your shoulders. One was a buff beauty with shorter magenta hair in a yellow beanie, his shirt hanging on for dear life. The other had longer pink hair that framed his face in a heart shape.

“That’s right,” the long haired guy smiled on your left.

“We’re the Saja Boys,” the buff guy on your right smirked. The two boys spun to slide into place on each side of the black haired guy, the three posing. “I’m Abby,” the muscle man posed, flexing which caused his shirt to strain.

“I’m Romance~” He blew a kiss at you.

“And I’m Jinu,” the black haired guy winked, smiling which made your heart pound all that harder to be the center of attention of three gorgeous guys. “We also have Baby and Mystery who are passing out fliers somewhere as well.”

“Right here, boss.” Oh great, more hot guys to make your heart explode.

A mint haired guy looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he walked past, joining the other three with a cool air. Another guy with long, pastel hair that covered most of his face walked past as well. Did he just smell you…? Was he purring…?

Oh boy. These boys were gonna give you a heart attack at this rate. Your heart was racing and you felt so flustered and awkward having their attention. “Uhm, wow, sorry, I’ll try to be there to support your debut! If you’ll excuse me,” You gave a small bow. Escape. Too many hot guys.

“You promise, sweetheart?~”

Your face flushed darker and you hurried away faster, “Y-Yup! See you there! Good luck!” You had groceries to get.

After getting enough groceries for you and the Huntr/x girls, you checked the time and noted that you had time to see that debut performance. The girls hadn’t texted that they headed back yet so they must still be at the doctors. Carrying the bags, you walked over to the other street, which was only a little more crowded than usual.

It seemed like you were just in time as a cloud of pink smoke grew in the middle of the street. You got closer as music started to fill the street and from the smoke, the five boys appeared.

“Don't want you, need you~ Yeah, I need you to fill me up~ 마시고 마셔 봐도~ 성에 차지 않아~ Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)~ You could be everything that~ That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)~ Every sip makes me want more, yeah~” The black haired guy, Jinu, seemed to take the main vocals. The song was so bouncy and catchy that you couldn’t help but bounce your shoulders as the crowd grew around you. You got pushed to the front of the crowd and blushed as Jinu winked at you. You blushed, holding your groceries tighter.

“You're all I can think of~ Every drop I drink up~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~ Cool me down, you're so hot~ Pour me up, I won't stop~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~”

Okay, Huntr/x would always have your whole heartfelt support as your favorite group, but the Saja Boys were also really good… Like, if you weren’t Rumi’s sister, you might’ve jumped ship…

You were just a girl after all…

You blinked when some of the boys started blowing kisses into the crowd, launching hearts out of thin air. If they were just debuting, how’d they afford such great special effects…? These boys must’ve worked hard.

At least you thought so until you saw a flash of demon patterns and eyes on some of the boys.

You gasped. Were they… like you and Rumi? Part demons? Wait, no, they can control their demon features, you and Rumi can’t. No matter how much you tried to hide the growing patterns inching across your skin, it never worked. All you could do was cover up with long sleeves and pants.

They were just performing though. The girls would probably kill them as soon as they could once they caught wind of this demon idol group, because demons were all evil, emotionless creatures… But, if they were just demon guys performing because they wanted to perform, if they were nice demons, then wouldn’t that help prove that it was okay for you to live too…?

They helped the girl at the corn dog stand and gave those stressed kids some gifts, and they didn’t try to suck a soul once.

Your heart pounded, not just with how attractive the five were, but with hope.

The performance ended as the boys took their final poses before taking a moment to wave and send kisses into the crowd. As you scanned the group of boys, Romance sent you a flying kiss, Abby flashed you some finger hearts, Jinu’s smile widened at you, Baby raised an eyebrow at you, and Mystery gave a head nod.

What were you supposed to do now…?

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

beauty and the beast (m.r.)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: Mattheo Riddle, the infamous heartbreaker, gets his heart broken.

Part 2

A/N: this is my first fic ever for matty but basically what happened was i read @redeemingvillains's amazing amazing fic called 'Dove' and it made me feral and i wrote this when i was supposed to be studying for my finals

im not so sure abt it lol because i feel like it's all over the place but this is what happens when i get depressed and get inspired at the same time

so, i hope you enjoy the product of my academic burnout and procrastination

also vee i hope you like the fic cuz ur most definitely my celebrity crush hehe 👉👈

Mattheo Riddle and you made an odd couple—at least, that’s what everyone said.

He was the son of the Dark Lord, Slytherin’s crowned king. All sharp edges and smoldering glances, more beast than boy. Mattheo solved problems with fists long before he used his brain, and even then, he was more likely to headbutt the issue than think it through. Fights, bruises, bleeding knuckles—he was practically the poster child for them.

You, on the other hand, were his opposite in every imaginable way.

Hufflepuff’s sweetheart. A sunbeam in human form. You were always wrapped in soft pastels with flower crowns tucked into your hair, hands sticky with sugar from baking treats or speckled with soil from planting herbs. You loved baby animals and warm tea, and your hands only ever got dirty in the name of creation or care.

So when Mattheo Riddle—the dark moon to your warm, gentle sun—started showing interest in you, your friends were quick to intervene.

Mattheo loved flustering you. Whether it was a cocky compliment or a teasing nickname, he’d always say something just to catch that bashful blush on your cheeks. He’d lean in too close, grinning like a devil as you tried to hide your smile.

“Ah! You’re just so cute. Muah!” You giggled one afternoon, pressing a kiss to the head of a tiny kitten. You’d found a litter of them near the castle grounds and built a makeshift shelter, lining it with soft blankets. To your delight, your friends had fallen in love with them too, helping feed and cuddle the kittens when they could. You came today for the usual dose of kitten therapy.

“Wow, where’s mine?”

The deep voice startled you so much you nearly toppled over from the crouch you were in, silently praying to Helga that your arse wouldn’t land on a defenseless kitten.

“Woah there!”

Luckily, someone caught you—one hand steadying your back, the other gripping your elbow just enough to stop your fall. The kitten in your arms squirmed and you realized you might’ve squeezed it in your surprise. Loosening your grip, you gently pet between its ears with a single finger, smothering it with kisses as an apology.

“You really know how to make a bloke jealous, sunshine,” Mattheo said, his voice a low purr near your ear, “I save you, and you’re still more invested in the kitten.”

You turned, only to find him inches from your face. You squeaked again, your blush rising fast as you looked away, tucking your face into your shoulder. Mattheo grinned.

You cleared your throat, trying to gather yourself, “Well, if you recall, you’re the reason I almost fell in the first place.”

His smirk widened, one brow arching—the same brow with the notch he’d gotten in a fight just a few days ago. You’d heard about it in passing, less concerned about the fight and more about whether anyone had been seriously hurt. Your friends had smiled gently at your concern, telling you you were too sweet for this world.

“I didn’t realize I distracted you, princess.”

The nickname was your undoing. Again.

You turned away, hiding behind another kitten as your cheeks burned. You couldn’t understand how someone like Mattheo Riddle found so much joy in tormenting your poor, flustered heart.

You cleared your throat, flustered, “So… you came to see the kittens too? Don’t they just cheer you up after a long day?”

Mattheo gave you a look—something between a smirk and a genuine smile, an expression that made your heart stumble over itself before he even opened his mouth.

“I am cheered up now,” He said, his voice low and warm, “But I must say, it’s not because of the kittens, Sunshine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your friends had immediately tried to intervene—purely out of concern for you, as you came to realize that night in the cozy safety of your dorm room, when Mattheo Riddle’s name was brought up.

“We just want you to be careful,” Lila said gently, her dark curls falling into her eyes as she spoke, “Mattheo isn’t exactly a stranger to other girls’ beds, (Y/N). He’s gone all the way with them—four bases, easily. Hell, with him, there’s probably an extra base we don’t even know about.”

Imani winced, “And well… we know you aren’t as experienced.”

You felt your cheeks flush. They weren’t wrong.

They were referring to the fact that you were a virgin. You’d never dated anyone. Never even had a boyfriend.

“…Is that bad?” You asked softly.

The girls’ eyes widened and they immediately jumped to reassure you.

“No! Not at all!” Lila said quickly.

“Of course not!” Imani added, shaking her head.

“That’s not what we meant,” Daisy chimed in, reaching over to squeeze your hand, “You just… you deserve someone who’s patient with you.”

“Mattheo’s part of a rough crowd,” Evangeline said, hesitating. She always chose her words carefully, “I don’t want to sound mean or make you feel like we’re judging him, but… I’ve been overthinking this whole thing. And you really can’t be sure he’s not doing this as some kind of cruel joke. Or a dare. Or something equally awful. I wouldn't put it past some of his friends.”

She looked you right in the eye, her voice softening.

“I feel bad assuming the worst, I really do. But I also don’t want to trust just anyone with someone as precious as you.”

That made you smile despite yourself.

Evangeline. The mother of the group. Always looking out for everyone. Always making sure you were safe, happy, and loved. She deserved something in return for how diligently she cared for you all.

You made a mental note to bake her favorite strawberry jelly pastries as a thank-you.

“I understand what you’re all saying,” You said, voice warm, “Thank you… for looking out for me.”

Thus began the excruciating process of trying to remind yourself of everything your friends had said—every time Mattheo began to flirt with you.

You returned his charm with a polite smile. You laughed at his silly jokes. You reminded yourself, this probably isn’t that serious to him.

He could have any girl on his arm—any girl who actually knew what she was doing. What business would Mattheo Riddle, famed Slytherin heartbreaker and rumored womanizer, have with someone like you? Someone who wasn’t experienced. Someone who needed emotional connection to feel safe. Someone who couldn’t even tell whether this was real or just another one of his games.

It all came to a halt the day Mattheo—so casually it could have been mistaken for a joke—suggested you two actually go out.

It happened in passing, half-directed at someone else in the conversation. But you noticed the way he paused. The way he looked at you afterward, as if waiting—hoping—for an answer.

You stared at the hand he extended toward you, palm open.

Then your gaze lifted, meeting his eyes. Wide. Hesitant. Innocent.

He laughed, trying to play it off, “What? Don’t you trust me?”

You froze.

The corner of your mouth dipped downward, a subtle but telling movement. And Mattheo noticed instantly. The playful spark in his expression faded, replaced by a chill that settled into his shoulders like dread.

“Oh.”

“Mattheo, I—” You stopped, unsure what to say as you tugged anxiously at the edge of the shrug you’d crocheted, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t, princess,” He said quietly, shaking his head, “Truth is… I’ve never given you a reason to trust me.”

You paused, chewing your bottom lip nervously. The sight of it made something sharp and aching stir in Mattheo—an urge to pull your lip from your teeth with his thumb and press his own mouth to yours, just to stop you from doubting yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Mattheo gave you a gentle smile.

It was a sad kind of smile—soft, genuine, and far too forlorn for someone who was always so cocky and sure. Seeing it on his face made something twist in your chest.

“Don’t be, princess.” He said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The next couple of days were filled with a Mattheo-shaped hole in your life—and it left a heavier ache than you expected. You tried not to dwell on it, but it was hard not to overthink. Had he only wanted one thing from you? Had your rejection truly been enough for him to discard the little friendship you’d built?

Was that all he ever wanted? Was that all anyone wanted?

Still, the thoughts didn’t consume you completely. You had your friends. You had your kittens. You had the little chaos garden you were growing with Professor Sprout’s permission just beyond the greenhouses, where wildflowers grew beside pumpkins and honeybees lazily floated between blooms.

That was enough… mostly.

At least until Mattheo found you in the library.

You were seated near the back, flipping through your Herbology notes, when he strolled up and set a small vial down on the table in front of you. The clear liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the candlelight. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

Mattheo’s chest was puffed out in obvious pride. He looked like he expected you to gasp or leap into his arms or start clapping.

But you just stared between him and the vial.

His posture deflated slightly, “Come on, princess. At least pretend to be interested. I spent days trying to get my hands on this.”

You bit back a smile, secretly amused by the way he still spoke to you like nothing had changed. Like you hadn't broken his heart—or at least bruised it. The fact that he was here at all made something flutter in your chest.

You gave in with a curious tilt of your head, “Alright, Mattheo. I’ll bite. What’s in the vial?”

“Veritaserum.”

Your eyes widened, but before you could even think to stop him, Mattheo uncorked the tiny bottle and downed it in one go like it was a shot of Firewhisky. He slammed the empty vial back onto the table and leaned forward, smirking.

“I’m completely at your mercy now, sunshine. Ask me anything. I’ll prove I’m not messing with you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his dramatic display. Then you pouted a little, your lips tugging downward as your eyes softened.

“How do I know that was actually Veritaserum?”

He laughed, grinning at you, “Trust issues much, princess? I respect it. Go on—ask me something I wouldn’t answer unless I was under the influence.”

Your eyes flicked over him, unconvinced. That was when you noticed the fresh cut across his nose—no doubt from yet another fight. It should have made you concerned, should have made you check him over for any other bumps and bruises. Instead, you had the completely embarrassing thought that it looked… sort of adorable.

You cleared your throat and hummed, thinking, “Your best friend is Theodore, right?”

He smirked, already cocky again, “Of course. Come on, angel. Give me a tough one.”

You tilted your head, pretending to ponder. Then, as sweetly as ever: “Have you ever thought about kissing Theodore?”

Mattheo froze.

His entire face lit up in a furious blush, red blooming across his cheeks and ears, “I—I mean, yes—but I wasn’t fantasizing about it or anything!” He sputtered, “It was just… a random thought that popped into my head once, I swear!”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, giggling uncontrollably. “Well,” You managed through your laughter, “I guess it really was Veritaserum.”

He covered his face with one hand, groaning into his palm, “That was embarrassing. I am embarrassed.”

You paused, your laughter fading into a soft frown as concern overtook your expression, “Mattheo… if you regret it, it’s okay. I won’t ask you anything else until the serum wears off, you don't have to answer anything else.”

He peeked at you through his fingers and smiled, slow and sincere. “You really are too good for this world, princess.” He let his hand fall and leaned forward, eyes never leaving yours, “No—I don’t regret it. I want you to trust me. And this was the only way I could think of doing it.”

You let out a breathy laugh. Of course it was. Of course the way Mattheo Riddle tried to earn your trust was something absurd, reckless… and somehow incredibly endearing. Just like him.

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on your chest for weeks, “All those compliments you give me… when you say I look beautiful… do you really mean that?”

His expression softened so much it almost hurt to look at. “Without a doubt,” he said without missing a beat.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks like warm sunlight, “…Do you really want to date me?”

“More than anything.”

You swallowed hard, “Is this possibly part of a joke? Or a dare? Or something else I should be scared of?”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch, “Believe me, princess, I would rather fall twelve stories from the Astronomy Tower than ever do something like that to you.”

Your breath caught. You’d been cold earlier, the drafty corners of the library nipping at your sleeves—but now you felt hot all over, your skin tingling like you’d been dropped into sunlight.

You blinked, “…Are you using me as a beard to hide your true feelings for Theodore?”

“(Y/N!)” He exclaimed, utterly scandalized, your name leaving his lips for the first time ever instead of a teasing nickname. The outrage on his face was so genuine that you couldn’t hold back anymore—you burst into a fit of laughter, face falling against his bicep as you tried to muffle your giggles.

Mattheo was still huffing beside you when you finally peeked up from his arm, and the expression he wore—soft, amused, fond—made your breath hitch all over again.

You shifted nervously, “Do you… like me?”

“More than you realize.” He said, quiet but certain.

You lowered your head, flustered, heart pounding as you fidgeted with the sleeves of your jumper. You weren’t usually so forward. Asking him all those questions had taken a surprising amount of courage. And now that you had your answers, you didn’t know what to do with them.

Mattheo tilted your chin up with a featherlight touch, catching your eyes. He glanced at your lips, then back into your gaze with so much reverence it almost made you dizzy.

“Will you go out with me, sunshine?”

Your lips curled into a shy smile, “I’d love to, Mattheo.”

His smile widened, something boyish and sweet in it that you hadn’t seen before. But before you could let yourself fully sink into the glow of that moment, the nagging voice of self-doubt tugged at your courage.

“I… don’t know if you know this about me,” You started hesitantly, “but I’ve never really done this before. Dated, I mean. So… I might need to take things slower than what you’re used to. Is that okay with you?”

There was a beat of silence where your heart was convinced it might just split in two from the pressure. But then Mattheo leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

When he pulled back, his eyes were soft with something so genuine it made your throat tighten, “We’ll go as slow as you need to, princess.”

You smiled, chest loosening as you leaned slightly into his side, your hand brushing his.

It wasn’t until later—when you were curled up in bed, running back through every detail—that you realized something.

He had never actually clarified if that pace—slow, careful, uncertain—was okay with him.

He had said you could go slow.

But you didn’t know if he wanted to.

***

It had been about three weeks since you and Mattheo started dating, and even now, it sometimes didn’t feel quite real. Not because he didn’t show it—if anything, Mattheo Riddle was a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He brought you little things he thought you’d like (a flower he saw outside Greenhouse Three, a charm that reminded him of your favorite animal, a quill in your favorite color just because you said yours was running out). He always waited for you outside class, always carried your books if your bag looked even slightly heavy, and never let a day pass without calling you by some new sweet nickname.

But more than that, he never pushed.

On your first date, you'd gone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest—somewhere quiet and peaceful with just enough sunlight trickling through the trees to give the illusion of safety and magic. You’d spread out a blanket, shared pumpkin pastries and pumpkin juice, and talked about anything and everything. Mattheo hadn’t even tried to hold your hand until you'd gently brushed your pinky against his, and even then, he’d waited for you to fully intertwine your fingers.

Since then, it had been a slow rhythm of delicate moments: shoulders brushing in the corridor, pinkies linked under the table, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with careful reverence. He never took more than you offered. Never asked for what you weren’t ready to give.

Even now.

Now, it was late—past curfew—and you stood with him in a shadowed alcove near the Astronomy Tower, where moonlight pooled like spilled silver. The castle was hushed, and your heartbeat was the loudest thing in the world.

Your hand touches his cheek, featherlight, like you’re still unsure if you’re allowed to touch him this way. Your voice trembled at the edges when you spoke—

“Can I kiss you?”

Mattheo’s heart stops.

“You—you wanna…?” His voice catches, and he mentally curses himself because he’s Mattheo Riddle, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s stammering like a schoolboy.

“I want to kiss you,” You admitted, voice soft and just a little shaky, “But… I’ve never really done this before. I mean—not really.”

Mattheo’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek before curling gently around your hand, “Me either.”

You blinked, “You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “No. I mean—I know what people say. I know what you’ve heard. And yeah, I’ve kissed girls before. But those… they didn’t matter. They didn’t mean anything.”

You stared at him, skeptical, “But you’ve done things, Mattheo. With other girls.”

He didn't deny it. Instead, he took your hand in both of his and guided it to his chest, just over his heart. The steady thud was frantic beneath your palm.

“You’re the first one,” He said, voice quiet and steady, “who’s made me feel like this… from just being around me.”

Your breath caught. And then, slowly, you rose onto your toes, brushing your lips against his.

It was tentative, uncertain—but real. So real it made your knees wobble and your heart race.

Mattheo barely moved, just kissed you back softly, reverently, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling like you’d just handed him the stars.

“Still nervous?” He whispered.

“Only a little.” You replied, cheeks warm.

And then he leaned in again like you were sacred.

Not like a boy kissing a girl. Like a sinner kissing a prayer.

He didn’t grab. Didn’t take. He just kissed you like it was all he ever wanted to do, like your kindness was the only thing that had ever made him feel clean.

When you finally parted, your breath was uneven, your hands still trembling faintly in his.

For the first time, you understood what people meant when they talked about wanting. The way your heart kept whispering more in the stillness. The way you leaned closer without even realizing.

“I think,” You said, barely louder than a breath, “I might need some more practice.”

Mattheo grinned, brushing his nose against yours, “Good thing we’ve got time, then.”

And he kissed you again—just once more, until you asked him for more—like you were the only thing that had ever made his heart beat like that.

***

The morning sun poured lazily through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting golden light over half-finished bowls of oatmeal and drifting owl feathers.

You slid into your usual spot at the Slytherin table beside Mattheo, nudging his side lightly with your shoulder, “Good morning, Matty.”

His lips quirked up immediately, voice still raspy with sleep, “Good morning, baby.”

A chorus of greetings chimed around the table.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Theodore greeted, already mid-sip of pumpkin juice.

“Morning,” Lorenzo added with a grin, elbow-deep in toast and marmalade.

Draco gave you a nod, lifting his chin. “(Y/N).”

You smiled sweetly. “Hi, Theodore, Lorenzo, Draco.”

Mattheo tried to hide the way he preened, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. His hand casually slid onto your thigh under the table, his thumb brushing tiny circles there. You weren’t one for PDA-heavy nicknames in front of the boys, so the fact that he got a "Matty" while everyone else got their usual names? That was better than syrup on pancakes. And he was smug about it.

“What are you guys talking about?” You asked, pouring yourself some tea.

“We’re just messing with Draco,” Lorenzo said with a snort, “Apparently Pansy invited him to go flower picking in the Far East Forest.”

Your eyes lit up, “That sounds like fun!”

The table went silent for a moment—and then all three boys burst into laughter.

“You’re so precious,” Lorenzo wailed, wiping a tear.

Theodore leaned in, “Oh, it is fun. Just not in the way you’re thinking.”

Your brows furrowed, “Huh?”

Mattheo snorted, clearly amused, “Flower picking in the East Forest is a very hands-on activity, sunshine.”

Draco looked smug, “It's basically a date with, uh, extra-curriculars.”

You gasped, “Ew! Draco!”

Mattheo leaned closer to you with a smirk, his voice dropping suggestively, “If you’re that interested, I could take you flower picking sometime…”

Your head whipped toward him, scandalized, "There’s a whole brood of sweet little ducklings that nest there! Don’t you dare snatch their innocence!”

The boys lost it.

Draco buried his face in his hands, laughing helplessly, “You sound like a disappointed forest fairy.”

“I am!” You declared, scandalized, “Honestly, I hope that every time you try to do anything with Pansy out there, you open your eyes and see a baby duckling staring right at your soul. Judging you. Silently.”

Lorenzo practically choked on his juice, “Even her threats are innocent!”

Mattheo couldn’t stop grinning. He looked at you like you’d personally hung the moon, brushing his knuckles against your cheek affectionately.

Just as the laughter around the table began to settle, a familiar voice called out from the entrance of the Great Hall.

“(Y/N)! Come on, we’re gonna be late!”

You turned to see Evangeline waving you over, with Lila and Imari flanking her, each holding an enchanted picnic basket floating obediently beside them.

Mattheo let out a quiet groan beside you, letting his head drop gently onto your shoulder. “Where are you going? It’s not even time for class yet. It’s so early…”

You giggled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I know, but we haven’t played with the kittens in days thanks to that Charms essay. I promised the girls we’d have breakfast outside with them.”

He sighed like it was the worst tragedy known to man, looking up at you with tired eyes and a pout. “So you're ditching me... for a bunch of furballs.”

“They’re our furballs,” you said with a soft smile, standing and brushing off your skirt.

Mattheo looked up at you—his hair a mess, his expression still sleepy, but his eyes so warm and full of something you couldn’t name. You leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It was barely anything, just a brush of your lips, but it had heat blooming across your cheeks.

“Bye,” You said quickly, “Save me a seat in Charms?”

He nodded, watching you trot off toward your friends with a smile so dazed it made him look a little lovesick.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Theo let out a low whistle, “Mate. You’re gone.”

Lorenzo leaned in with a grin, “Did you just blush? Over a cheek kiss?”

Draco raised a brow, amused, “You’ve had girls snog you senseless behind greenhouses. 'The Hufflepuff Sweetheart' kisses you on the cheek and you look like you're ready to write her a sonnet.”

Mattheo blinked slowly, still smiling like a right fool, “It was a very good kiss.”

Draco smirked, “She barely touched you and you look like you’ve been hit with a Confundus charm.”

None of them noticed the two girls lingering near the entrance—eyes narrowed, arms crossed—who’d heard every single word.

***

You weren’t supposed to hear them.

Their voices were just a low hum at first—giggling, whispering—coming from around the corner as you walked the quiet corridor. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop. You weren’t looking for trouble.

But the words found you anyway.

“Mattheo Riddle? Merlin, he’s such a fuckboy,” One of the girls said, her voice dripping with judgment, “He’s probably seen more girls naked than he can remember. And now he’s with her? Sweet, innocent little thing? She doesn’t stand a chance. I mean, how could someone like her—so sweet, so innocent—keep up with him?”

Another girl snickered, her tone mocking. “It's probably just a corruption kink. He’ll get bored as soon as he realizes she can’t give him what he really wants.”

You paused mid-step, your heart sinking into your stomach. The words struck you harder than you could have imagined.

“She doesn’t have what it takes, though. Look at her—so naive. You think she even knows what to do with a guy like that?” One of them continued, “You really think she knows how to keep someone like him satisfied?” The rest of their words faded, but they’d already done their damage. The words had been carved straight through your chest.

You hadn’t meant to listen. But now you couldn’t unhear it.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the sting of tears burning behind your eyes, the cruel weight of their words crushing your chest.

You wanted to shake it off. You wanted to tell yourself it didn’t matter. But their voices stuck to your skin like smoke. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

You felt stupid.

You’d been so blind to think someone like Mattheo, with all his past, could ever truly want someone like you. You weren’t like the other girls. You were soft, innocent—too innocent, it seemed. You knew it, deep down, but hearing them confirm your worst fear was unbearable.

You didn’t even know how you managed to make it to your dorm. Everything blurred—walls, portraits, passing students—until finally you reached your bed and collapsed onto it, curling in on yourself like you could disappear. The tears came hard and fast, soaking into your pillow no matter how tightly you shut your eyes.

You couldn’t shake the image of Mattheo and his past. Of all the things he’d done, of all the girls who had been in his life. And here you were—so different from them. You were certain he deserved someone who could keep up with him, someone more experienced, more capable of handling whatever it was that he needed.

What if Mattheo needed someone more experienced—someone who could match the fire in his veins, not melt under it?

Could he really be happy with someone like you?

The ache in your chest tightened. You tried to brush it off, to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that Mattheo wouldn’t care what those girls said. But the words kept echoing, louder with every breath: He’ll get bored. She’s not enough. She can’t keep up.

You’d always known you were different than the girls he'd usually chased. You thought he liked that about you. But… maybe you’d been delusional to think he could feel the same way. Really feel it.

The sadness settled over you like fog—thick, inescapable. You tried to reason with yourself, tried to dismiss the ache as insecurity, paranoia, nothing real. He told you he didn’t mind. He’d said it plainly, truthfully—Veritaserum coursing through his veins, no way to lie. You could take all the time you needed. He liked you, chose you, in spite of your hesitation.

And still, the doubt crept in.

Maybe he had meant it at the time.

But maybe he’d change his mind.

Maybe one day he’d wake up and realize what he was missing. Maybe he’d grow tired of your softness, your innocence, your quiet kind of love.

The ache deepened, dull and steady, like something inside you had cracked and wasn’t going to heal quickly. You curled tighter under the blanket, trying to shut it all out—the voices, the doubt, the image of Mattheo with someone who could give him more than you ever could.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You told yourself to stop.

But the feeling wouldn’t leave.

***

The next morning, when Mattheo met you in the corridor, he noticed it instantly.

There was a weariness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before—an invisible weight pressing down on your shoulders. The usual lightness in your step, the spark in your smile, your warmth—all dimmed, like someone had drawn a curtain over you overnight.

“Hey,” He said softly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, “You okay?”

You forced a smile, but it felt brittle—like glass about to crack. “Didn’t sleep well,” You murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear as you looked anywhere but at him. The floor suddenly seemed very interesting.

Mattheo’s brows pulled together. He didn’t press, not yet, but the shift in your energy felt like a punch to the ribs. You were always open with him. Bright, effervescent—sunlight in human form. Seeing you closed off like this, hiding behind half-smiles and lowered eyes, made something twist deep in his chest.

He leaned in for your usual morning kiss—your quiet tradition, simple and grounding. Mattheo loved giving affection, and you adored receiving it, but he’d always let you close the gap. Let you decide. Whether it was a quick kiss, a lingering one, or just a soft touch on the cheek—he followed your lead, always careful not to push your boundaries.

It was something that had always made your heart flutter. His patience. His gentleness with you.

But this morning, all you could think about was Fifth Year—when he’d grabbed the girl he was dating at the time and snogged her senseless in front of half the Great Hall. No hesitation. No care for who was watching. His hand had been tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist like he needed her closer, and when she’d giggled against his mouth, clinging to him like he was gravity itself, he’d laughed—carefree, cocky, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had been effortless for him then. Confident. Public.

Your heart seized.

How much did he have to restrain himself now? How many times had he accepted your fleeting pecks, when he might have wanted more? How often had he pretended it was enough?

A wave of guilt washed over you. You wanted to reach out, to grab him by the tie and kiss him breathless. Maybe then the whispers wouldn’t matter. Maybe then he wouldn’t get bored. Wouldn’t leave.

But even with that desperate thought flickering in your mind, your body didn’t move. There was ice in your veins. Fear anchoring your limbs. So instead, you leaned up just enough to brush your lips against his, featherlight. Barely there.

Mattheo froze.

You always smiled after your kisses—grinned and scrunched your nose, sometimes added a ridiculous muah sound that made him roll his eyes but secretly love you more. But now…

Now, you didn’t even look at him.

“Sunshine,” he said gently, “are you sure you’re okay?”

You sighed, and this time the smile didn’t even try to reach your eyes. “Just feeling… tired,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

He didn’t believe you. Not for a second.

***

The next few days felt like a slow drift—like two ships caught in different tides.

You weren’t as quick to meet him between classes anymore, often ducking into the crowd or lingering behind with classmates until he was gone. You still spoke when you ran into him, but only when he spoke first. Your voice lacked its usual lilt, and the pauses between your words were longer. Heavier. When he asked to see you, you hesitated. “I’ve got homework,” you’d murmur, “I think I’m getting sick.” Excuses—flimsy, transparent.

You didn’t even show up for breakfast.

Your absence was glaring, something his friends immediately picked up on.

“Where’s your sweet little princess, Matty?” Theodore teased around a mouthful of toast, “Too busy with the mice and birds baking a pie?”

Mattheo didn’t answer.

Because in all honesty… he didn’t know where you were. Just like he hadn’t known yesterday. You’d slipped through the day like a ghost, nowhere to be found, avoiding every place he’d looked for you.

He’d even sent an owl that morning. A soft, simple note: Missed you at breakfast. Meet me after class? I miss you.

All he got back was a short reply scribbled hastily on parchment: Sorry, slept in. Was up late. Just really tired. Maybe later.

There was no little kiss-mark of your lip gloss. No sweet spritz of your perfume clinging to the paper. Not even a heart at the end of your sentence.

And it hurt him—visibly, deeply. More than he could ever admit.

Mattheo wasn’t stupid. If anything, he was painfully perceptive when it came to you. He noticed the way your eyes didn’t light up when you saw him anymore. The way you flinched—subtly, but undeniably—when he reached for your hand. How your laughter came less often. How your smile no longer reached your eyes.

You were pulling away.

At first, he tried to play it cool. Maybe you were stressed, maybe you just needed space. He’d seen you have bad days before. But the quiet between you kept growing louder, stretching taut with everything unsaid. Every time he reached out, you slipped further from his grasp—like sand slipping through his fingers, no matter how tightly he tried to hold on.

And it scared him.

Because this time… you weren’t just hesitant. You weren’t just unsure, or overwhelmed, or waiting for him to take the lead.

You were running away.

And he didn’t know why.

***

It had been nearly two weeks.

Two weeks of avoiding his eyes, his touch, his voice. Two weeks of skipping dinners and brushing past him in corridors like he was a stranger. Two weeks of burying the ache in your chest and pretending like you didn’t feel the pull of his absence every second of every day.

And now… you were here.

Standing outside the boys’ dorm, your fist hovering just inches from the door.

You hesitated—long enough to wonder if this was a mistake, long enough to feel the lump rise in your throat again—but then you knocked. Once. Twice.

It creaked open immediately.

“Oh—hey,” Theodore said, surprised but smiling, “Uh… Mattheo’s inside.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Around the room, the other boys lifted their heads. Recognition dawned quickly—followed by an awkward shuffle of movement. They exchanged glances, and then, wordlessly, began to file out.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Lorenzo said with a wink, nudging Blaise toward the door.

Draco gave you a small, kind smile as he passed, brushing your shoulder gently, “Good to see you again, (Y/N).”

And that made it so much worse.

You swallowed hard. Guilt pooled in your stomach like lead.

When you finally stepped inside, Mattheo was sitting on the edge of his bed, a book abandoned in his lap. His head snapped up the moment he saw you.

“(Y/N),” He breathed, standing quickly, his eyes searching your face, “You—you’re here. Are you okay? Are you finally gonna talk to me?”

He looked so hopeful. So relieved. Like your silence had just been a bad dream he was waking up from.

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanted to talk,” You said softly, “Can we sit?”

He nodded quickly, motioning for you to sit beside him on the bed. You did, folding your hands tightly in your lap.

He sat close—close enough to touch, to reach for you—but you shifted slightly away, just enough for him to notice.

His smile faltered. “(Y/N)…?”

You forced yourself to breathe, to speak the words that had been lodged in your throat for days. To finally speak the words that had been festering inside your chest like poison.

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

You couldn’t look at him.

It took him a moment to react—like the words had hit, but the meaning hadn’t quite registered yet.

“What?”

Your heart cracked in your chest.

“I don’t think we’re right for each other, Mattheo.”

He flinched—actually flinched—like you’d slapped him, “What are you talking about?”

“I just…” You struggled to keep your voice steady, “I think we’re too different. You and me. It’s not working. I don’t want to waste your time.”

He was staring at you now—like you’d just confessed something absurd, “You don’t want to waste my—(Y/N), what are you saying? You’re everything to me.”

“Mattheo—”

“No.” He stood suddenly, running a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps like the motion might help him make sense of the spiral, “You’re lying. This isn’t you. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. Is it something I did? I can change. I will change. I’ll do anything. Just—don’t do this.”

You stood, too, voice quieter now, “That’s the thing. Even if you change…it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Because I’m the reason everything is falling apart—but you couldn’t say it.

And Mattheo was standing there like the wind had been knocked out of him.

He opened his mouth—but no words came.

So you left.

You turned on your heel, walked out the door, down the stairs—your legs trembling the entire way. You were halfway across the common room before—

“(Y/N)!” His voice tore through the air like lightning.

You froze.

Then you felt it—his hand wrapping around your wrist, desperate and trembling, pulling you gently back around.

His friends were there, scattered around the couches, watching with wide eyes.

“Can you just please tell me what’s going on?” He asked, breathless and hurting, “I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand. You don’t even look at me anymore, you’re avoiding me, and now this? If you want space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please. Tell me the truth. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I broke.”

You looked up at him then. His eyes were shining, lips parted, pain carved into every inch of his expression.

And it shattered you.

You shook your head slowly, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“You didn’t break anything,” You whispered, “But some things just…can’t be fixed.”

And that was all you gave him before you slipped your wrist out of his hold and walked away—this time, for real.

He didn’t chase you again.

Mattheo stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on the spot where you’d stood.

“What the hell was that?” Blaise asked quietly.

Mattheo didn’t respond.

He just stared at the door, still trying to catch his breath.

“We just broke up,” He said hollowly. Then he sank into the nearest armchair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His fingers threaded through his hair, trembling as he blinked rapidly—like the world was spinning too fast, and he couldn’t keep up.

***

It had been nearly a month since the breakup. And every second of it had been hell.

Mattheo wasn’t just off—he was unrecognizable.

He stopped showing up to class unless someone physically dragged him. On the rare occasions he did, he’d sit slouched in the back, hood up, glowering at the floor, snapping at anyone who dared speak to him. He skipped practice. Ignored meals. Picked fights for no reason.

And when Quidditch rolled around? It was brutal.

He played like he had nothing to lose—like every match was a battlefield, every tackle a personal vendetta, every swing of his bat a desperate attempt to release something festering inside. Players left the pitch bruised, limping, bleeding. Referees issued warnings. Professors whispered behind closed doors. Students started walking on eggshells whenever he passed, careful not to catch his eye.

But still… even through all of that, he searched for you.

Every time he walked into a room, his gaze found you. Across the Great Hall, surrounded by your friends. In the courtyard, hunched over your journal. In the corridors, where you kept your head down and your footsteps quick—where you avoided him like it physically hurt to meet his eyes.

Because it did.

Once—just once—you ran into each other between classes.

You turned a corner and there he was.

His steps halted. Your breath caught.

“(Y/N)—” He breathed, his voice low and hopeful, like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming.

But you couldn’t look at him. You ducked your head and brushed past, your heart hammering in your chest.

You kept walking, fast, willing yourself not to cry.

And just before you rounded the corner, you paused.

Just for a second.

You glanced back, hoping—aching—for even the smallest sign that he was looking back.

Mattheo didn’t see your heartbroken gaze.

But Evangeline certainly did.

***

“This is ridiculous.” Theo muttered one night, slamming his book shut.

Blaise didn't look up from his game of exploding snap with Enzo, “He didn’t even show up to practice today.”

“He was out back,” Enzo said quietly, “Feeding her cats at the shelter again."

The tension in the Slytherin common room was already thick when the door opened and four girls stepped inside.

Evangeline, Lila, Daisy, and Imari strode in with a kind of urgent determination that made every conversation falter mid-sentence. Heads turned. Even Draco glanced up from where he sat lounging by the fireplace.

When him and the others saw the girls heading straight for them, their expressions shifted from curiosity to mild alarm.

“You lot,” Evangeline said firmly, folding her arms as they approached, “We need to talk.”

“Uh…” Theo blinked, “Hi?”

Lila didn’t waste time, “It’s about (Y/N).”

That got their attention.

Blaise sighed and put down the Exploding Snap cards.

“She’s not eating,” Daisy said quietly, “I’ve been sitting with her at meals, and she hardly touches anything. She’s barely there. Her eyes are dead, and I know she’s been crying herself to sleep every night. I can't watch it anymore."

Imari added sharply, “And she won’t tell us what happened. All we know is that she broke up with Mattheo, and ever since then, it’s like we’re living with a ghost.”

The boys exchanged glances—uneasy, guilt-ridden glances.

“Well,” Theodore exhaled, running a hand through his curls, “if it makes you feel any better, Mattheo’s not exactly thriving either.”

Draco snorted, “Thriving? He’s on the verge of a full mental collapse.”

“He’s stopped going to class,” Blaise muttered, “He’s smoking like a chimney again. Got detention twice last week for fighting.”

Lorenzo chimed in, “He damn near took someone’s head off at Quidditch. We’re this close to him being benched for the rest of the season—or expelled.”

Evangeline’s expression softened slightly, “So… they’re both miserable.”

“Clearly,” Theo muttered, leaning against the arm of the couch, “But what are we supposed to do about it?”

That’s when Imari stepped forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She fixed the boys with a hard look, “You all know Mattheo better than anyone. What the hell is he doing to fix this?”

Theo’s eyebrows shot up, “Why does Mattheo have to fix anything? (Y/N) dumped him out of nowhere and shattered his heart! Some Hufflepuff sweetheart she turned out to be!”

Lila stepped forward defensively, “She must’ve had a good reason! Mattheo must’ve done something—he’s obviously in the wrong!”

“You shut your Hufflepuff mouth,” Draco snapped, standing up as the tension in the room heightened.

“Enough,” Evangeline snapped, eyes flashing, “This isn’t about blame. We’re not here to fight—we’re here to help them. Or did you all miss the part where they’re both completely wrecked without each other?”

Theo blinked, “…Damn. I like an assertive woman.”

Evangeline didn’t even look at him, instead turning her attention back to the boys, "We need to help them. They’re both falling apart, and if we don’t do something now, it’s only going to get worse."

Imari glanced at the guys, her eyes narrowing as she thought for a moment. Then, a smirk tugged at her lips. She stood up straight, crossing her arms as she looked them over, "I’ve got an idea."

***

It was just past sunset when you heard a stampede of frantic footsteps charging up the stairs to your dorm room. You barely stirred from bed, buried deep in a cocoon of blankets and silence.

Then the door burst open.

“Does anyone have gauze? Or a healing salve? Lila, where’s the bloody first aid kit?!”

The chaos jolted you upright.

Imari was digging through drawers like her life depended on it. Daisy was pacing, hair a mess, muttering under her breath. Lila had inexplicably opened your wardrobe and was rifling through your jumpers. Evangeline was trying—and failing—to look composed.

You blinked, “What’s going on?”

“We found a baby owl,” Daisy rushed out, breathless, scrambling to your bedside, “Abandoned on the Astronomy Tower. Its wing’s all bent—it can’t fly.”

“—and it was crying,” Lila added dramatically, dabbing at imaginary tears, “Little squeaky hoots, like it was calling for help.”

Your heart lurched, “Wait—what? Is it still up there?”

“Yeah, we didn’t want to risk hurting it more by moving it,” Imari said, voice sharp with urgency, “We were grabbing supplies, but honestly, you’re the best with animals, (Y/N). Could you go? Please?”

You were already tossing off your blanket, “Of course. Where?”

“Astronomy Tower,” Evangeline said, “By the west-facing window.”

“We’ll be right behind you with the kit,” Lila added, pushing the nearly empty first aid box into Imari’s arms.

“Go on,” Daisy said gently, “Poor thing’s probably terrified.”

Without another word, you slipped on your shoes and bolted for the door.

The second you were gone, the girls sagged in relief.

“We’ve been trying to get her out of bed for weeks and all it took was a fake injured animal?” Lila muttered.

“She’s too pure for this world,” Daisy sighed.

“I love her for it,” Evangeline said softly.

“Right?” Imari smirked, “Now we just need the guys to hold up their end of the bargain.”

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin dorm…

“Oi, Mattheo,” Blaise called casually, leaning against the doorframe, “Fancy a smoke?”

Mattheo didn’t even glance up. He was slouched in his desk chair, hood up, fingers twitching idly. But after a pause, he sighed and stood, “Sure.”

They walked in silence, the kind that made everything feel heavier. No jokes. No jabs. Just thick, uncomfortable quiet.

Halfway to the courtyard, Theo suddenly froze, smacking his pockets, “Shit.”

Mattheo frowned, “What?”

“My lighter. Left it in the dorm.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “Use your wand?”

Theo blinked, “Uh… right. That would make sense.”

Mattheo stared at him.

Draco stepped in, cool as ever, “Ignore him. Dropped on his head too many times as a child. Just head up to the Astronomy Tower—we’ll catch up.”

Mattheo’s expression tightened, “Why the Astronomy Tower?”

“Best view. Less wind. Good vibes,” Blaise said, waving him off, “Go on. We’ll be right there.”

Mattheo looked at them for a long second. Suspicious. Then he turned and headed toward the tower alone.

As soon as he was gone, the boys broke formation.

“Do you think he’s going to punch someone if this goes wrong?” Lorenzo asked.

“Definitely,” Draco muttered, “I’m blaming that halfwit Imari. This plan is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” Theo said thoughtfully, “Evangeline seems like she knows what she’s doing.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, “Theo’s kink is women telling him he’s stupid.”

Theo shrugged, “Not denying it.”

***

You ran up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, lungs burning, trying to quiet your breathing so you could listen for the pained hoots of an injured owl.

But then you saw him.

“Mattheo?” You breathed, freezing in the doorway.

He leaned against the far wall, bathed in the fading light of sunset, his posture tense, eyes sharp with disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“I—I didn’t know you’d be—”

The door slammed shut behind you with a heavy clang.

You both spun around, “What the hell?!”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Came Theo’s smug voice, muffled through the thick wood, “Not unlocking this ‘til you two sort your shit out!”

“DON’T BOTHER SCREAMING!” Imari added cheerfully, “It’s soundproofed!”

Mattheo stormed to the door, yanking at the handle and pounding his fist against the wood, “This isn’t fucking funny, Theo! Open the door!”

You stood frozen, caught between panic and the overwhelming urge to melt into the floor.

“Mattheo—”

“Honestly, what the fuck were they thinking?” He snapped, pacing now, furious, “Let’s just trap us in a room together, yeah? Brilliant. Force her to spend time with the monster she couldn’t wait to get away from.”

Your chest clenched, “You’re not a monster.”

He laughed bitterly, “Right. That’s why you couldn’t even look at me when you ended things.”

You flinched.

“You didn’t even say anything real,” He continued, voice rising, “Just some vague crap about how we weren’t compatible—like that wasn’t a complete lie.”

You stared at the floor, throat tight, “It wasn’t about you, Mattheo.”

“Oh, no?” His voice cracked, “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, “It wasn’t you. It’s me, okay?!”

He froze, “What?”

You couldn’t stop the words now, even as your voice wavered, “It was me. I’m the problem. I can’t give you what you need. I’m inexperienced and clumsy and it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved better—someone who could give you the kind of relationship you actually want.”

He looked like you’d just struck him.

“I didn’t want it to get to my head,” You whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks, “But I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wasn’t making you as happy as you made me. I wasn’t enough. And every time I saw you, it hurt… and I just didn’t want it to hurt anymore.”

“(Y/N)…” He breathed, shaking his head, “I told you so many times. I promised you—we wouldn’t go faster than what you wanted. What you needed.”

“But what about your needs?” You cried, voice cracking, “Why should you have to restrain yourself and ignore what you want just because I’m too scared to give it? What makes me worth that sacrifice?”

Mattheo was stunned silent.

Then, in the quiet, his voice broke through like a prayer, “Because I’m in love with you, (Y/N).”

You froze.

“I love you for who you are. There isn’t another girl in this bloody castle—or the world—who’s as kind and selfless as you. I told you before—I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. And I don’t want to. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stepped closer, voice softer but no less intense.

“I don’t love you in spite of your caution—I love you because of it. Because every time you trust me, even just a little, I know I’m getting a part of you no one else has. That means something to me. That connects me to you in a way I’ve never felt with anyone else.”

His eyes searched yours, earnest and unwavering.

“So if you want to take things slow? That’s fine. If you want to join a convent and die a virgin—I’ll turn into a priest.”

That startled a teary laugh out of you.

“All I need is you, (Y/N). In whatever way you can give me.”

And then, in a blur of movement, he crossed the room and wrapped you in his arms so tightly it knocked the air from your lungs.

“You stupid, beautiful idiot,” He whispered into your hair, voice shaking, “You think I’d ever stop loving you?”

You sobbed into his chest, gripping the back of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” He murmured, “I don’t care if you’re scared, or shy, or awkward—I. Don’t. Care. You’re mine, (Y/N). That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I just didn’t want to disappoint you.” You hiccuped.

“You couldn’t,” He said fiercely, “You never could.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face—his eyes were glassy, rimmed red, but so, so soft.

He cupped your cheek, kissed your forehead. Then your temple. Your cheek. Every inch he could reach without letting go.

“I love you,” He whispered, like a vow, “And I’m gonna keep loving you—no matter how long it takes you to believe me.”

“I—I love you too,” you whispered back, trembling.

And this time, you kissed him first—wrapping your arms around his neck and molding your lips to his, harder than ever before. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you missed him.

You missed him so much.

The stars above bore witness—not to an ending, but a return.

***

Bonus:

You stirred your cup of hot cocoa lazily, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you watched both groups of your friends awkwardly glance at one another. The kitchens were warm and buzzing with laughter, but a hint of tension from earlier still lingered in the air.

“Unbelievable,” You said, looking more upset than you were considering your eyes were still red and your cheeks were still blotchy, “Lying about a poor injured baby animal like that.”

Lila, ever the spokesperson, threw her hands up with an exasperated groan, “We’re sorry, (Y/N). But you were so depressed! It was horrible. We didn’t know what else to do.”

You raised a brow, grin deepening, “So you told the depressed girl to go to the only place in the castle with a balcony?”

The room went dead silent. Everyone exchanged panicked looks as the weight of that unintended implication sunk in.

Then—your laughter broke the silence, bright and sudden, echoing off the stone walls. The sound was so unexpected that they all visibly relaxed, joining in with nervous chuckles.

Mattheo, seated beside you, leaned in and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his voice quiet and steady. “Don’t talk like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin, “I don’t like hearing it.”

You blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the tenderness in his tone. His gaze was soft but serious, full of something fiercely protective.

A quiet warmth spread in your chest, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” You whispered, your smile softer now.

Across the table, Theo let out an exaggerated groan, “And now we have the pleasure of witnessing the tooth-rotting fluff. Again.”

“They’re adorable. Stop being mean,” Evangeline shot back, smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

Theo perked up, undeterred, “Maybe I wouldn’t be so mean if I had some teeth-rotting sugar of my own.”

Evangeline looked genuinely disturbed, “I’d rather third-wheel their disgustingly cheesy romance, thanks.”

“Alright, alright,” Daisy cut in, raising her mug in a faux-toasting motion, “How about we all agree to be mildly happy for them and get back to celebrating the fact that they’re no longer moody shells of human beings.”

“Agreed,” Blaise added, lifting his own cup with mock solemnity, “For the greater good of us all.”

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind