#But i know it was never brought up again after that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tobiosbbyghorl · 2 days ago

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pairing: scientist!sunghoon x scientist! reader

wc:10.5k

released date: 05.17.2025

warning: PURE FICTION!!

synopsis: In the quiet of her lab, Dr. Y/N, a skilled scientist, sets out on a risky mission to bring back her late fiancé, Park Sunghoon, who died in a car accident. Using his preserved DNA, she creates a clone that grows rapidly in just two years. When Sunghoon wakes up, he faces the difficult reality of being brought back to life and the moral issues surrounding Y/N's actions.

a/n: ITS HERE!! Hope you guys will love it as much as I did writing it! feedbacks,likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

In the cold glow of my underground biotech lab, silence is sacred. Down here, beneath layers of steel and earth, the world doesn’t exist. No grief. No time. Just me. Just him.

The capsule glows in the center of the room—a vertical womb of steel and glass, pulsing faintly with blue light. Suspended inside, wrapped in strands of bio-filaments and artificial amniotic fluid, is the reason I wake up in the morning. Or stay awake. I don’t know the difference anymore.

Park Sunghoon.

Or… what’s left of him.

One year ago, he died on his way to our civil wedding. A drunk driver. A rainy street. A second too late. I got the call before I even zipped up my dress. I still remember the way my coffee spilled all over the lab floor when my knees gave out. I never cleaned it. It’s still there, dried in the corner. A fossil of the moment my world cracked open.

⸻

He used to say I was too curious for my own good.

That I’d poke the universe too hard one day and it would poke back.

Maybe this is what he meant.

⸻

Sunghoon and I were both scientists—biotech researchers. We studied regenerative cloning, theorized about neural echo imprinting, debated ethics like it was foreplay.

He was against replicas. Always. “A copy isn’t a soul,” he’d say. “It’s just noise pretending to be music.”

But the day he died, I stopped caring about music.

I just wanted to hear his voice again.

⸻

I had everything I needed. A sample of his bone DNA—collected after a minor lab accident years ago and stored under a pseudonym. His blood type, genome map, neural scan from our first brain-simulation trial. A perfect match, all buried in our old hard drives. He never knew I kept them. Maybe he would’ve hated me for it.

Maybe I don’t care.

I called it Project ECHO.

Because that’s what he was now.

An echo. A ripple in the void.

⸻

The first version—ECHO-1—was a failure.

He looked like Sunghoon. But he never woke up. I ran every test. Monitored every vital. Adjusted nutrient cycles, protein growth, heartbeat regulators. But something in him was missing—something I couldn’t code into cells.

A soul, maybe. Or timing.

He died the second I tried to bring him out.

I cremated and buried that version in the garden, under the cherry tree he planted the first spring we moved in. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I just stood there holding the urn and whispered, “I’ll get it right next time.”

⸻

ECHO-2 was different.

I restructured the genome to prevent cellular decay. Added telomere stabilizers to delay aging. Enhanced his immune system. This time, I built him stronger. Healthier. The version of Sunghoon that would’ve never gotten sick that winter in Sapporo, or fainted in the elevator that one night after forgetting to eat. That version who could live longer. With me.

But the rest—I left untouched.

His smile. His hands. The faint mole scattered in his face. The way his hair curled when wet. All exactly the same. It had to be. He wouldn’t be Sunghoon without those things.

I even reconstructed his mind.

Using an illegal neural mapping sequence I coded from fragments of our joint research, I retrieved echoes of his memory—dream-like reflections extracted from the deepest preserved brain tissue. It wasn’t perfect. But it was him. Pieces of him. The things he never got to say. The life he never finished.

⸻

It took two years.

Two years in the dark, surrounded by synthetic fluid and filtered lights, modifying the incubator like a cradle built by obsession. I monitored every development milestone like a parent. I watched him grow. I whispered stories to him when the lab was quiet, played him our favorite records through the tank’s acoustic feed, left him notes on the console like he could read them.

⸻

One night, I touched the tank and felt warmth radiate back. His fingers twitched.

A smile cracked on his lips, soft and sleepy.

And I whispered, “You’re almost here.”

⸻

Now he floats before me—grown, complete, and terrifyingly familiar. His chest rises and falls steadily. Muscles formed and defined from synthetic stimulation. His brain is fully developed. His body—twenty-five years old. The age he was when he died. The age we should’ve gotten married.

And now, he’s ready.

⸻

The console buzzes beside me.

“Project ECHO – Stage V: Awakening. Confirm execution.”

My fingers hover. The hum of the lab grows louder. My heart beats so hard I feel it in my throat.

This is it.

The point of no return.

I press enter.

The Awakening didn’t look like the movies.

There was no dramatic gasp, no lightning bolt of consciousness.

It was subtle.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and uncertain, like the first morning light after a long storm. They didn’t lock onto me at first. He blinked a few times—slow, groggy—and stared at the ceiling of the pod with a confusion so human it made my knees go weak.

Then his gaze shifted.

Found me.

And held.

Just long enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

“Sunghoon,” I whispered.

His lips barely moved. “…Y/N?”

And then—just like that—he slipped under again.

His vitals were stable, but his body couldn’t process full consciousness yet. It was expected. I designed it that way. A controlled emergence. Gentle. Like thawing from ice.

He would wake again. Soon.

⸻

Phase VI: Integration.

I had the room ready before I even began the cloning process. A private suite in the East Wing of my estate, modified to resemble a recovery room from a private hospital: sterile whites and soft blues, filtered natural lighting, automated IV drips and real-time vitals displayed on sleek black monitors. The scent of lavender piped faintly through the vents. His favorite.

I moved him after he lost consciousness again—quietly, carefully. No one else involved. Not even my AI assistant, KARA. This part was just mine.

Just ours.

He lay in the bed now, dressed in soft gray cotton, sheets pulled up to his chest. The faint hum of the machines harmonized with his breathing. It was surreal. Like watching a ghost settle into a life it forgot it had.

I perched on the armchair across from him, the dim lighting casting long shadows over his face.

“You’re safe,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “And when you wake up… everything will be in place.”

⸻

I spent the next forty-eight hours setting the stage.

Fabricated records of a traumatic car accident—minor amnesia, extended coma, miraculous survival. Hacked into the hospital registry and quietly added his name under a wealthy alias. I made sure the media silence was absolute. No visitors. No suspicious calls. A full blackout.

I memorized the story I would tell him. Rehearsed it like a script.

We had been on our way to City Hall. A drunk driver ran a red light. I survived with minor injuries. He hit his head. Slipped into a coma. No signs of brain damage, but long-term memory instability was expected.

He’d been here ever since. Safe. Loved. Waiting to wake up.

And now—he had.

⸻

On the morning of the third day, I heard movement.

Soft. Shuffling. Sheets rustling.

I turned from the monitor just as he groaned softly, his head turning on the pillow.

“Sunghoon?”

His eyes blinked open again, more alert this time. Still groggy, but present.

“Y/N…?” he rasped.

I rushed to his side, heart in my throat. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

His brows knit together, voice hoarse. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” I said gently. “The day of our wedding. You’ve been in a coma. Two years.”

His eyes widened—just a little. Then flicked down to his hands. The IV. The machines. The unfamiliar room.

“…Two years?”

I nodded, bracing for the confusion. “You survived. But it was close. We weren’t sure you’d ever… come back.”

He said nothing.

Just stared at me.

Like he was trying to remember something he couldn’t quite reach.

“…Why does it feel like I never left?” he whispered.

I smiled softly. Forced. “Because I never left you.”

And for now, that was all he needed to know.

But deep down, behind those eyes, behind the half-forgotten memories and muscle memory that wasn’t truly his—

Something flickered.

Something not asleep anymore.

He was awake.

And the lie had begun.

The days that followed passed in a quiet rhythm.

He adjusted faster than I anticipated. His motor skills were strong, his speech patterns natural—so much so that sometimes I forgot he wasn’t really him. Or maybe he was. Just… rebuilt. Reassembled with grief and obsession and the memory of love that still clung to me like static.

I stayed with him in the hospital wing, sleeping on the pullout beside his bed. Every morning he’d wake before me, staring out the wide window as if trying to piece together time. And when I asked what he was thinking, he always gave the same answer:

“I feel like I dreamed you.”

On the seventh day, he turned to me, his voice clearer than ever.

“Can I go back to our room?”

I paused, fingers wrapped around the rim of his tea mug.

He still called it our room.

I nodded.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re strong enough now.”

And so we did.

I helped him down the hallway, hand in his, the same way I’d imagined it during the long nights of Phase II. His steps were careful, measured. But his eyes… they lit up the moment we entered.

It looked the same.

The navy sheets. The low lights. The picture of us by the bookshelf—framed and untouched. His books still on the shelf in alphabetical order. His favorite sweatshirt folded at the foot of the bed like I had never moved it.

He smiled when he saw it. “It feels like nothing’s changed.”

Except everything had.

I didn’t say that.

⸻

He asked about the lab a few nights later. We were curled together in bed—his head on my shoulder, our legs tangled like old habits finding their way home.

“How’s the lab?” he asked, voice soft in the dark. “Are we still working on the neuro-mirroring project?”

My heart skipped.

I’d gotten rid of everything. The pod. The DNA matrix. The prototype drafts. Scrubbed the drives clean. Smashed the external backups. Buried the remains of ECHO-1 under a new tree. The lab was as sterile as my conscience was not.

I turned toward him, brushing my thumb over the scar that curved above his brow. The one that hadn’t been there before the “accident.”

“It’s being renovated,” I said carefully. “After the crash… I couldn’t go in for a while. So I decided to redo it. Clear things out. Start over fresh.”

He nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t ask again.

And just like that, life began to move forward.

He followed me around the house again, stealing kisses in the kitchen, playfully poking fun at the way I never folded laundry properly. He rediscovered his favorite coffee, laughed at old movies like they were new, held my hand under the stars like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But sometimes—when he thought I wasn’t looking—he’d stare at his reflection too long. Tilt his head. Press his fingers to his chest like he was checking if something was still there.

Maybe he felt it.

The echo of what he was.

But if he did, he never said.

One night, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, he whispered into my neck, “I don’t know how I got so lucky to come back to you.”

I pressed a kiss to his temple, forcing a smile as my heart ached beneath the surface.

“I guess some things are just meant to find their way back.”

Even if they were never supposed to.

Time softened everything.

The sterile silence of the house began to fade, replaced by the quiet thrum of life again—the clink of mugs in the morning, the shuffle of his bare feet on the hardwood, the lazy hum of music playing from a speaker that hadn’t been touched since he died. I started to breathe again, and so did he.

Like we were rewriting the rhythm we’d lost.

—

Our first night out felt like time travel.

He picked the place—a rooftop restaurant we always swore we’d try, back when work kept getting in the way. I wore the same navy dress I had worn on our second anniversary. He noticed. His hand slid into mine under the table like it belonged there, his thumb tracing invisible patterns against my skin.

Halfway through dessert, he leaned in, grinning with chocolate at the corner of his lip.

“You still scrunch your nose when you’re pretending to like the wine,” he teased, eyes gleaming.

I blinked. “You remember that?”

He nodded slowly. “It just feels like… I always knew.”

I smiled, heart aching in that strange, quiet way it always did now.

“You’re right,” I said, brushing the chocolate off his lip. “You always did.”

Even grocery shopping with him became a date.

He pushed the cart like a child let loose, tossing in things we didn’t need just to make me laugh. At one point, he held up a can of whipped cream with the most mischievous glint in his eye.

“For movie night,” he said innocently.

I arched a brow. “For the movie or during the movie?”

He smirked. “Depends how boring the movie is.”

We walked home with one umbrella, our fingers interlaced in the rain, and the world somehow felt smaller, warmer.

He burned the garlic the first time.

“I told you the pan was too hot,” I said, waving smoke away.

“And you told me to trust you,” he countered, looking absurdly proud of his crime against dinner. “Besides, I like it crunchy.”

“You like your taste buds annihilated, apparently.”

We ended up ordering takeout, sitting on the kitchen floor, eating noodles out of the box with chopsticks, laughing about how we’d both make terrible housewives.

But the next night, we tried again.

He stood behind me, arms around my waist, guiding my hands as I chopped vegetables.

“You used to do this,” I said softly. “When I first moved in.”

“I know,” he murmured. “It’s one of my favorite memories.”

Cuddling became a ritual.

He always found a way to get impossibly close—sprawled across the couch with his head in my lap, humming contentedly while I read a book or ran my fingers through his hair.

Sometimes we didn’t speak for hours.

Just the quiet breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat echoing faintly against my thigh. Real. Solid. Present.

It was a miracle I could touch.

One night, as rain tapped gently on the windows and he was half-asleep on my shoulder, he whispered:

“I feel safe with you.”

I held him tighter.

Because if I let go—even for a second—I was afraid he might vanish again.

⸻

Love blossomed differently this time.

Slower. Deeper. Less like fire, more like roots. Tangled and unshakable.

And sometimes, in the quiet of our shared bed, I would watch him sleep and wonder if it was love that brought him back.

Or obsession.

But when he opened his eyes and smiled like the sun lived behind them, I told myself it didn’t matter.

He was here.

And that was enough.

For now.

⸻

I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding so violently it threatened to break free from my chest. The nightmare was still fresh, its vividness clinging to my mind like the smoke of a fire.

Sunghoon.

He was in the car again—his face frozen in the moment before everything shattered, his eyes wide with disbelief. The screech of tires, the crash. His body limp. The way I couldn’t reach him no matter how hard I screamed.

I gasped for air, my fingers clutching at the sheets, tangled in the panic that still gripped me.

My breath came in ragged bursts as I sat up, drenched in sweat. My chest heaved with the rawness of the memory, the terrible what-ifs that still haunted me.

A hand gently touched my back.

“Y/N?”

His voice, soft and concerned, cut through the haze of the nightmare. I froze for a moment, the world around me still spinning from the disorienting shock.

I turned, and there he was—Sunghoon—sitting up beside me in the bed, his eyes full of concern. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his face, and for a moment, it was almost as if everything had shifted back into place.

But only for a second.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice warm with worry.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. “I… I just had a nightmare,” I whispered, avoiding his eyes. My heart was still trying to settle, and I didn’t want him to see the fear in my face. I didn’t want him to see how broken I still was.

Sunghoon leaned forward, his hands reaching out to cradle my face gently. He brushed a strand of hair away from my forehead, his touch so familiar, so tender.

“Nightmares are just that,” he said softly, his thumb grazing my skin. “They aren’t real. I’m here.”

I nodded, trying to pull myself together, but the knot in my throat wouldn’t loosen. There was something about the way he said it—so assuredly. So real. Like the past didn’t exist, like he had never been gone.

Like I hadn’t created him from fragments of grief and obsession.

He sat next to me, his arm around my shoulders as I leaned into him. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, slowly calmed me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of him—the same as it had always been.

“I’m here,” he repeated, his voice a quiet lullaby.

But somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t shake the question that had haunted me since the moment I had revived him: Who was he really? Was this truly the Sunghoon I had loved, the one who had filled my life with light? Or was this just a perfect imitation, a replica of my memories? An echo of a man who would never truly exist again?

I wanted to believe he was him. I needed to believe it.

But as he held me, his warmth seeping into my skin, I couldn’t deny the doubt that gnawed at my soul.

“Y/N?” he murmured, sensing my tension.

“Yeah?” I whispered, pulling myself closer into his arms.

He tilted my chin up, his gaze intense as he met my eyes. “I love you,” he said quietly, with such certainty that for a moment, it almost felt real—like the love we’d always shared before the accident, before everything shattered.

And in that moment, I wanted to believe it. I wanted to forget everything else, to let myself drown in the reassurance that this was him—my Sunghoon.

But the ghosts of the past still lingered in the corners of my mind.

“I love you too,” I replied softly, my voice shaky but true.

And for a few minutes, we just sat there, holding each other in the stillness of the night.

But as I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his embrace lull me back to sleep, the doubt remained.

Would I ever be able to escape the shadows of my own creation?

As the days passed, the weight of my doubts gradually lightened. Sunghoon’s presence—his warmth, his voice, the way he smiled—reminded me more and more of the man I had once loved, the man who had been taken from me.

The fear, the gnawing uncertainty that had once been constant in the back of my mind, slowly started to fade. Each moment we spent together was a little piece of normalcy returning. He didn’t just look like Sunghoon. He was Sunghoon. In every little detail—his laugh, the way he tilted his head when he was deep in thought, how he always made the coffee exactly the way I liked it. His presence was enough to reassure me that this was him, in all the ways that mattered.

We went on walks together, hand in hand, strolling through the garden I had planted the day we first moved into the house. It was filled with flowers that bloomed year-round—just like the memories I had of us, blooming and growing despite the heartbreak.

We laughed, reminiscing about everything we had shared before. Sunghoon was never afraid to be vulnerable with me, and it felt like we were picking up right where we left off. His sense of humor, always dry and sarcastic, never failed to make me smile. And slowly, I began to accept that the man who stood beside me, laughing at his own jokes, was truly my Sunghoon.

One night, as we cooked dinner together, I watched him carefully slice vegetables, his movements graceful and practiced. It was simple, domestic, but it felt like everything I had longed for since he was gone.

“Don’t forget the garlic,” I reminded him, teasing.

He shot me a look, smirking. “I remember.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment settle into my bones. This was real. The way he made sure I was comfortable in the kitchen, the way we worked together without needing words—this was our life, reborn.

The more time we spent in the house, the more at ease I became. We cooked together, watched old movies, read books side by side, and held each other as we fell asleep at night. There were no more questions in my mind. No more doubts. Just the feeling of peace settling over me, like the calm after a storm.

Sunghoon never asked me about the lab. And I never had to lie, because there was no need to. The lab had been dismantled long ago, every trace of Project ECHO erased. It was as if it never existed. My obsession, my grief—gone.

In its place was this. A second chance.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you, Y/N,” he said one evening as we sat on the couch, the sound of rain tapping against the windows. He held me close, his head resting against mine. “No matter what happens, no matter what changes… you’re the one for me.”

I turned to look at him, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might reveal the truth I feared. But there was nothing. Only love. Real love.

“I feel the same,” I whispered back, brushing my lips against his.

For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was no past, no lab, no questions. There was only Sunghoon, here with me. And that was enough.

The days continued to pass in a peaceful blur of moments that I had once thought lost forever. With each sunrise, my doubts melted away, and with every touch, every kiss, I felt more certain that this was real. That he was real.

Sunghoon might not be the exact same person who had walked out of that door all those years ago—but in my heart, it didn’t matter. He was my Sunghoon, and that was all I needed.

Together, we built a life—one step at a time. And this time, I wasn’t afraid.

I wasn’t afraid of the past. I wasn’t afraid of the future.

I was just… happy.

Sunghoon’s POV

It had been a year since I came back to her, and in that time, I had slowly convinced myself that everything was okay. That what we had, what I had, was enough. That the woman I loved, the woman who had saved me—had done so much more than just revive me—wasn’t hiding any more secrets. But the past… it always had a way of creeping up, didn’t it?

I wasn’t snooping, not exactly. I was just cleaning up. I had offered to help her tidy up the office since she had been so caught up in her work lately, and well, I had nothing else to do. After all, it’s been a year now, and I’ve come to understand her more than I could ever have imagined. She’d been distant the past few days, and it made me uneasy. The kind of unease that makes you feel like there’s something you should know, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

It was as I was sorting through the boxes in her home office—one that she hadn’t allowed me to visit much—that I found it.

A video tape.

It was tucked behind a stack of old files, half-buried in the clutter. At first, I thought nothing of it. She was always meticulous about her work, so maybe it was just an old research document, something from her past. But when I saw the words “Project ECHO – Development and Breakdown” scrawled on the side, my heart stopped. I felt a sickening knot tighten in my chest, and instinctively, my fingers curled around it.

What was this?

My thoughts raced as I fumbled with the tape, my hands trembling just slightly as I slid it into the old VCR player she kept in the corner of the office. The screen flickered to life.

There I was.

Or… the version of me that had once existed. The first one. My mind was running faster than my eyes could follow the images flashing on the screen. I saw footage of my development, from the initial growth stages to the first electrical impulses firing in my brain, as well as my physical appearance being tested and adjusted.

My stomach turned as the video documented every breakdown of my body—every failed attempt to bring me to life. I saw the wires, the artificial fluids, the machines that I had been hooked up to before I had opened my eyes, before I had woken up in that hospital room.

But it was the last part of the video that hit hardest. There, in her cold, emotionless voice, Y/N narrated her thoughts, her failed efforts, her obsession with recreating me.

“I couldn’t get it right… not the first time. But I will, because I have to. For him. For us.”

My chest tightened as the realization hit me like a brick. She had known the entire time. She had created me. I wasn’t the Sunghoon who had died. I was a version of him. A shadow of the real thing.

The screen went black, but the words echoed in my mind like an incessant drumbeat.

For him. For us.

The pain of that truth was like a knife twisting in my gut. The woman I loved had spent years trying to recreate me, to bring me back—because she couldn’t let go. She couldn’t let me go. But she never told me. She never let me in on the truth of it all.

I was a lie.

I wasn’t real. And all this time, I had been believing I was the same Sunghoon she had lost. But I wasn’t.

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes as I reached for the nearby papers, pulling them out in a frantic rage. More documents. More of my development—charts, genetic breakdowns, notes about my failed memories, and even the procedures Y/N had carried out. Every page proved it. I wasn’t just a clone; I was the culmination of her grief and desire.

The door to the office opened quietly behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The air in the room grew thick, suffocating. I could feel her presence like a weight pressing down on me.

“Sunghoon,” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur.

I finally turned to face her. She looked pale, her eyes wide, clearly having seen the documents I had scattered across the room. She knew. She knew what I had found.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I choked out, my voice raw. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth, Y/N?”

Her eyes flickered with guilt, and for a moment, I thought she might say something—anything to explain, to apologize. But instead, she took a step back, her hands wringing together nervously.

“I didn’t want you to hate me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want to lose you again. I—I thought maybe if you didn’t know… maybe we could have our life back. I just wanted to have you here again, Sunghoon.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, and I could feel the tears building in my eyes. “But I’m not him, am I? I’m not the real Sunghoon. I’m just… this.” I gestured around at the papers, at the video, at the mess that had been my life. “I’m a replica. A copy of someone who doesn’t exist anymore. How could you do this to me?”

She stepped forward, her face pale with fear, but her voice was firm. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just wanted you back, Sunghoon. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t lose you. You were taken from me so suddenly, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t live with the thought that you were gone forever.”

I looked at her, the woman who had once been everything to me—the one who I thought had rebuilt me out of love, not out of desperation.

“Do you think I’m the same person? Do you think I can just pretend that I’m the man I was before? How could you think I wouldn’t want to know the truth?” My voice cracked, emotion flooding out of me like a dam breaking. “How could you do this?”

Her face crumpled, and I saw the tears well up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sunghoon,” she whispered, her voice barely audible through the sobs. “I thought if I could just give you everything back, we could start over. But I was wrong. I—I should’ve told you from the beginning.”

I could feel the overwhelming ache in my chest, the confusion, the betrayal. But more than that, I felt the loss of something far deeper: trust. The trust that she had built between us was gone in an instant.

“You’re right. You should’ve told me,” I whispered, stepping back, my throat tight. “I need some space, Y/N. I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

I turned and walked out of the room, my heart shattering with each step.

I paused at the door, the weight of her voice sinking into me like a stone. I didn’t turn around, not right away. The question lingered in the air, hanging between us, impossible to ignore.

“If I was the one who died, would you do the same?”

Her words were quiet, but they cut through the silence of the room with precision, like a knife through soft flesh. I could feel the tension in the air—the desperation in her voice, the need for an answer. She was asking me to justify her actions, to somehow make sense of everything she had done.

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to turn and lash out. But I couldn’t do it—not when the pain of her question was a reflection of everything I was feeling.

“I… I don’t know,” I finally muttered, my voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I would. I can’t say for sure. But I don’t think I’d ever hide the truth from you. I wouldn’t keep you in the dark, pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.”

Her soft, broken gasp from behind me reached my ears, but I couldn’t face her—not yet. Not when the anger and hurt were still so raw.

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you love that much,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I couldn’t stand the thought of living without you, Sunghoon. I thought… maybe if I could just bring you back… we could have our future. But now, I see how selfish that was. How wrong.”

I wanted to say something—anything—to ease her pain, but the words stuck in my throat. The truth was, part of me still wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to tell her it was going to be okay. But I wasn’t sure if that would be enough. Would it ever be enough?

“I need time, Y/N,” I said quietly, my voice cracking. “I need to think. About all of this. About us.”

The silence that followed was heavy, unbearable. And then, finally, I walked out the door, leaving her behind, standing in the wreckage of her choices—and my own shattered heart.

The days stretched on like a slow burn, each passing hour marked by the tension that filled every corner of our shared space. We were still in the same house, the same home, but it felt like we were living in different worlds now. The walls felt thicker, the silence heavier.

I moved through the house in a daze, keeping to myself more often than not. Y/N and I had an unspoken agreement—it was easier this way. She’d stay in the study or the kitchen, and I’d retreat to the room we used to share, now feeling like an alien space, void of the warmth it once held. We didn’t speak much anymore, and when we did, it was brief—polite, almost mechanical.

There were moments when I caught a glimpse of her, standing in the hallway, her head bent low, a soft frown on her face. Other times, she’d walk by without looking at me, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding my gaze as if she feared what might happen if she met my eyes for too long. I wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—but every time I did, the words felt inadequate, like they couldn’t possibly capture the weight of everything that had changed.

One evening, I found myself sitting in the living room, staring out the window at the moonlit garden. I could hear her footsteps in the hallway, the soft sound of her presence lingering in the air. For a moment, I thought she might come in, might sit beside me like she used to. But she didn’t. Instead, the silence stretched between us again, a reminder of the distance we had created.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my eyes as frustration built inside me. The whole situation felt suffocating—like I was trapped between what I wanted and what had happened. I didn’t know how to fix it, or even if it could be fixed. There was so much to unravel, so many emotions to sort through. And then there was the truth—the truth of who I was now. Not just a man trying to find his way back to a life that no longer existed, but a clone—a replica of someone who once had a future, now burdened with a past he didn’t truly own.

The sound of her voice from the kitchen broke my thoughts.

“Dinner’s ready,” she called softly, her voice almost too gentle, too careful.

I hesitated for a moment, staring at the untouched glass of water on the coffee table. The empty space between us felt too vast to cross, but eventually, I stood up, making my way to the kitchen.

We sat across from each other, the dim light from the pendant lamp above casting shadows on the table. There were no small talks, no jokes exchanged like before. We ate in silence, the clinking of silverware the only sound between us. Every so often, I would look up, meeting her gaze for a fleeting second, but neither of us had the courage to speak the words that were hanging in the air.

The food was good, as always, but it didn’t taste the same. The flavor of everything felt hollow, like a memory that wasn’t quite mine.

When the meal was over, I helped clear the table, my movements stiff. The kitchen felt too small, the air too thick.

She turned to face me then, her expression unreadable, her eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening. “I know you are. I… I just don’t know what to do with all of this.”

Her eyes flickered with unshed tears, and she stepped back, as though the space between us could somehow protect her from the weight of the moment. “I never wanted to hurt you, Sunghoon,” she murmured, her words full of regret. “I thought… I thought if I could just bring you back, we could have another chance. But now I see how wrong I was.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process the ache in my chest. “I don’t know how to fix this either. But I know… I know I need to understand who I am now. And what we are.” My voice trembled, but I fought it back. “I need time.”

“I understand,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Take all the time you need.”

It felt like a farewell, and yet, we stayed in the same house. In the same life, but now it was something unrecognizable.

The next few weeks passed in the same quiet, empty rhythm. We moved around each other, living parallel lives without ever crossing paths in any meaningful way. There were mornings where I would wake up to find her sitting on the couch, staring at her phone, or nights where I’d catch her reading a book in the dim light.

Sometimes, I would linger by the door to her study, wondering if I should knock, ask her how she was feeling, but each time, I backed away, unsure if I was ready to face the answers she might give.

At night, I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was how we were going to live—side by side but separate. I missed her. I missed us. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a shadow of the man she once loved, and that was a weight I wasn’t sure she could carry anymore.

One night, as I lay in the dark, unable to sleep, I heard the soft sound of her crying. The quiet sobs seeped through the walls, and my heart clenched painfully in my chest.

I wanted to go to her. Hold her. Tell her everything would be okay. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words anymore.

And maybe, I never would.

The night stretched on, and despite the tension that hung thick in the house, I managed to fall into an uneasy sleep. The weight of everything—our fragmented relationship, the guilt, the uncertainty—had left me exhausted, though the sleep I sought felt shallow and restless.

It was around 3 AM when I was jolted awake by the softest sound—a faint, broken sob. My eyes snapped open in the dark, my heartbeat quickening. I froze, listening carefully, the sounds of her grief pulling at something deep within me.

It was coming from the direction of her room.

At first, I told myself to ignore it. After all, she had her own space, her own pain, and I had my own to deal with. But the sound of her brokenness—quiet and desperate—was too much to ignore.

Slowly, I slid out of bed, my bare feet padding softly on the cool floor. I moved silently through the house, drawn to the soft, muffled sounds echoing through the walls. When I reached the door to her room, I paused.

She was crying, the kind of sobs that wracked her body and left her vulnerable. I hadn’t heard her cry like this before—unfiltered, raw, as if the dam inside her had finally broken.

The light from her bedside lamp flickered weakly, casting long shadows on the walls. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head buried in her hands, the tears falling freely, like they couldn’t be held back anymore.

I stood there, frozen, my chest tightening at the sight. My first instinct was to rush to her side, to pull her into my arms and whisper that everything would be alright. But I didn’t. I just watched from the doorway, a spectator in my own home.

The sound of her pain made me feel powerless, as if I were too far gone—too far removed from who I once was to even be the man she needed. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. The silence between us felt like an unspoken agreement, a distance neither of us knew how to cross.

And then she spoke.

“I’m sorry… Sunghoon,” she whispered to the empty room, the words slipping from her like a confession she hadn’t meant to make. “I thought I could fix it. I thought… if I could just bring you back, we could be happy again. But I don’t know what I’ve done anymore. I don’t know who you are. Or if you’re even really you.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and I could hear the weight of her regret, the guilt, the fear of everything she’d done.

The flood of emotions hit me all at once—anger, sadness, confusion—and yet, there was something else, too. The overwhelming desire to reach out to her. To show her that I understood, that I knew how hard this was for her.

But still, I stayed frozen. Silent. The words that had once flowed so easily between us now felt like strangers.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but it didn’t stop the tears.

“I was selfish,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible now. “I couldn’t let go. I wanted you back, no matter the cost. And now… I don’t know if you can ever forgive me.”

That was when the weight of it all hit me fully—the pain she had been carrying, the burden she had placed on herself. The fear she had been living with, not knowing if I could ever truly forgive her for bringing me back.

I stepped forward then, unable to watch her fall apart without doing something.

“Y/N,” I said quietly, my voice hoarse, betraying the emotions I had kept bottled up for so long.

She immediately stiffened, her breath hitching as she quickly wiped her face, trying to pull herself together. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice faltering. “I didn’t mean for you to—”

“I heard you,” I interrupted, taking a few steps into the room. “And I’m not angry with you.”

She looked at me, her eyes filled with so much sadness, it was almost more than I could bear. “But I did this to you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I brought you back, Sunghoon. And I don’t know if you even want to be here. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask to be—” She stopped, her breath shaky, as if even speaking the words caused her pain.

I knelt in front of her, my heart aching as I reached for her hands, gently pulling them from her face. “Y/N…” I said softly. “I am here. I’m here because I want to be.”

“But what if I’ve ruined everything?” she whispered. “What if I can never make it right?”

I shook my head, cupping her face in my hands as I looked into her eyes, searching for some glimmer of hope in her. “You didn’t ruin anything. You did what you thought was best… even if it was wrong. And I understand that. But we can’t live like this, hiding from each other. We need to talk. We need to be honest.”

She nodded slowly, tears still slipping down her cheeks. “But can we ever go back to what we were?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a quiet desperation.

I swallowed, my own emotions threatening to spill over. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice thick. “But I want to try. I want to figure it out. Together.”

There was a long pause, and then, slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against mine, her tears falling onto my skin. I closed my eyes, letting the weight of everything settle in.

In that moment, I realized that maybe there wasn’t a way back to what we once had—but that didn’t mean we couldn’t find something new. Something different. Something real.

And I was willing to fight for it.

I held her closer, whispering against her hair. “We’ll find our way. Together. One step at a time.”

The silence between us stretched out, thick with the unspoken words, the weight of everything we had been through. Her breath was shaky against my skin, and I could feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, like she was finally letting herself soften, letting me in again.

I wanted to say more, to fix everything, but the words weren’t coming. I could only focus on the rhythm of her breath, how the vulnerability in her touch made everything seem both fragile and precious.

And then, almost instinctively, I pulled back just slightly, my hands still cupping her face, fingers brushing softly over the damp skin of her cheeks. I searched her eyes for something, anything—some flicker of permission, of trust.

The question formed in my chest before I even realized it, and before I could second-guess myself, it slipped from my mouth, quiet and uncertain but earnest.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words were soft, tentative, as if I wasn’t sure she would say yes, as if I wasn’t sure I even had the right to ask anymore. But something in me needed to hear it—to know if we could bridge that last distance between us, if the gulf of everything we had been through could be closed with something as simple as a kiss.

Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything went still. She didn’t say anything. There was only the quiet sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest under my palms. The world outside the room felt distant, irrelevant. It was just us now, alone in this fragile moment.

I waited. She could say no. She could push me away. But I needed to know where we stood.

And then, slowly, her eyes softened. She gave a slight nod, her lips trembling as if the simple motion of it took all her strength.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was there. It was all I needed to hear.

Before I could even think, my hands moved to her shoulders, pulling her gently closer. I closed the distance between us, hesitating only for a brief second, just enough to feel the weight of the moment.

And then I kissed her.

It wasn’t the kiss I had imagined—the wild, desperate kiss of two people who couldn’t control themselves. No, this one was different. It was slow, careful, tentative, like we were both afraid to break something that had just begun to heal. My lips brushed against hers, soft and uncertain, as if I were asking for permission again with every gentle touch.

She responded after a moment, her hands finding their way to my chest, clutching at me like she was trying to ground herself in the kiss, in the connection we were rebuilding. I could feel her hesitation, but I could also feel the warmth, the pull, the quiet promise in the way she kissed me back.

The kiss deepened slowly, our movements syncing, building, and for the first time in so long, I felt something stir inside me that had been dormant—hope. A fragile, trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other. That maybe this was the first step in learning to trust again.

When we finally pulled away, neither of us spoke for a moment. We just stayed there, foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the stillness. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, a steady rhythm that told me she was here. She was still here with me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice small, but it wasn’t the apology I had been expecting. It wasn’t guilt or regret. It was a quiet understanding. A promise, maybe.

“I know,” I whispered back, brushing my thumb over her cheek, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. “We’re going to be okay.”

And for the first time in so long, I actually believed it.

The air between us was thick with the weight of everything unspoken, but in that moment, there was only the soft brush of our lips, the warmth of our bodies pressed together, and the undeniable pull that had always been there. We moved slowly, cautiously, like we were both afraid of shattering something fragile that had just begun to heal.

The kiss deepened, an unspoken question lingering in the space between us. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, fast and erratic, matching mine. It was as if we both understood that this was more than just a kiss—it was a reclaiming, a restoration of something that had been lost for far too long.

I gently cupped her face, tilting her head slightly, deepening the kiss as my hands found their way down her back, pulling her closer, as if I couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t get close enough. Her fingers slid up to my chest, tracing the lines of my shirt before pushing it off, the fabric slipping to the floor without a second thought.

There was no more hesitation, no more doubt. Just the raw connection between us that had always been there, waiting to be unlocked.

She responded with the same urgency, hands moving over my body, finding the familiar places, the marks that made me me. I could feel the heat of her skin, the way her breath caught when we came closer, when I kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips. The taste of her was like everything I’d been missing, the feeling of her so real, so tangible, that for a moment, it was hard to believe she was really here. Really with me.

Our movements grew more urgent, more desperate, but still tender, as if we were both trying to savor this moment, unsure of what tomorrow might bring, but desperate to make up for the lost time. I wanted to show her everything, all the ways I loved her, all the ways I had missed her without even knowing how much.

The world outside the room disappeared. There was no lab, no documents, no research, no mistakes. Just us—finding our way back to each other, piece by piece. I held her close, kissed her as if I could never let her go, and when the moment finally came, when we both reached that point of release, it wasn’t just about the physicality. It was about trust, about healing, about starting over.

When we collapsed against each other afterward, breathless and tangled in sheets, I felt something shift inside me. Something I hadn’t realized was broken until it started to mend.

Her hand found mine, fingers lacing together, and she rested her head on my chest, her breath slowing, and for the first time in so long, I felt peace. A peace I hadn’t known I needed.

And in the quiet of the room, with her beside me, I whispered softly, “I’ll never let you go again.”

She didn’t answer right away, but I felt the way she squeezed my hand tighter, her chest rising and falling against mine. She didn’t need to say anything. I could feel it in the way she held me.

And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe that we could truly begin again.

The quiet stillness of the room enveloped us, the soft sound of our breathing the only thing that filled the space. I held her, tracing the curve of her back with my fingers, savoring the moment as though it might slip away if I wasn’t careful. The weight of everything—the doubts, the fears, the mistakes—was still there, lingering in the shadows of my mind, but for once, I didn’t feel like I had to carry them alone.

She shifted slightly, raising her head to meet my gaze. There was a softness in her eyes now, the guarded walls that had once stood so tall between us slowly crumbling. I could see the vulnerability there, but also the strength that had always been her anchor.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it carried all the weight of everything she’d been carrying inside. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering against her skin. “I know,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “I know. But we’re here now. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

She nodded, her eyes closing for a moment as if gathering herself. The air between us was charged with unspoken words, and I could feel the weight of the past year pressing down on us. But there was something different now—something that had shifted between us, something I hadn’t felt in so long.

Her lips found mine again, soft and gentle, a kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was an apology, a promise, a plea all rolled into one. And for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to believe in it fully.

When we finally pulled away, her forehead rested against mine, both of us still tangled in the sheets, the world outside feeling miles away. I could hear the distant hum of the city, the night stretching out before us like a quiet, unspoken promise.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words escaping before I could even think about them. But it felt right. It felt real.

She smiled, her fingers brushing against my cheek. “I love you, too. I never stopped.”

And in that moment, I knew. No matter the struggles we’d faced, no matter the secrets, the pain, or the mistakes, we were still here. Still us. And as long as we could keep finding our way back to each other, everything else would be okay.

We stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading into nothingness. In the quiet, there was only peace. The peace of knowing that, together, we could face whatever came next.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I finally let go of the fear that had kept me tethered to the past. Because with her by my side, I knew we could build a future. A real future. And nothing, nothing at all could take that away from us.

As the days passed, something began to shift between us. It was subtle at first, small gestures of kindness, moments of vulnerability that had been buried under the weight of secrets and doubts. But as we spent more time together, the trust that had once been strained slowly started to blossom again, like a fragile flower daring to bloom in the cracks of the world we had rebuilt.

Every morning, Sunghoon would make me coffee, just the way I liked it—strong, a little bitter, with just a hint of sweetness. It became our small ritual, something to ground us, to remind us that we were still learning, still growing. And every evening, we’d find ourselves lost in the quiet comfort of one another’s presence. Sometimes we didn’t say much, just the familiar silence that had always existed between us, but now it felt different. It felt safe.

One night, as we sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket together, he turned to me, his expression soft. “I’ve been thinking about everything. About what you did…and why. I don’t want to just forgive you. I want to understand. I want us to really move forward.”

I smiled, the warmth in his voice soothing the lingering worries in my chest. “We will,” I whispered, “We’re already on the way.”

Sunghoon gave me a small, genuine smile, his fingers lightly brushing over mine. It was a touch so simple, yet it carried all the weight of the world. I had feared this moment—the moment when the cracks would be too deep to heal—but instead, I felt something stronger than before. Something more real.

As the weeks went on, we found ourselves sharing more than just physical space. We started talking about the future—what we wanted, where we saw ourselves. There was no more fear of the unknown between us. Instead, there was excitement. There was trust, slowly but surely, weaving its way back into our lives.

I could see it in the way Sunghoon would ask about my day, genuinely interested, and how I would lean into him when I needed comfort, no longer second-guessing whether I deserved it. Our conversations had depth now, unafraid of the things we once kept hidden. We didn’t pretend anymore. We didn’t have to.

One evening, while we were cooking dinner together, Sunghoon turned to me with a teasing smile. “You’ve improved. Your cooking’s actually…not terrible.”

I laughed, playfully shoving him. “Hey, I’ve gotten better!”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “I’m proud of you.”

I could feel the sincerity in his words, the love that had grown back between us like something tangible. The fear and doubt that had once plagued me were nowhere to be found now. In their place was a quiet certainty.

We weren’t perfect. We still had our moments of miscommunication, of moments when the past reared its head, but with each day, the trust between us grew stronger. It wasn’t about erasing the mistakes we’d made. It was about learning from them and choosing to move forward together, no matter what.

And as I looked into Sunghoon’s eyes, I saw the same thing reflected back at me—the understanding, the acceptance, the desire to never give up on us.

In that moment, I knew that trust wasn’t just something that had to be given freely—it had to be earned. And we were earning it every day. Slowly, but surely, we were becoming something new, something even more beautiful than before. Something that could withstand anything life threw at us.

And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to believe in the future again.

In us.

Life had felt like it was finally settling into a quiet rhythm, like the calm after a storm. Sunghoon and I had been living together in peace for the past year, our bond mended from the cracks of the past. The tension had faded, leaving room for love, laughter, and domestic moments that felt so normal and reassuring. We’d shared so many firsts again—first trips, first lazy weekends in bed, first home-cooked meals. Everything felt right. Almost.

It was during one of these peaceful afternoons that I made a discovery. I was cleaning out the attic of our home, something I’d been meaning to do for months, when I came across an old box. It was tucked away in the corner behind some old furniture, covered in dust and cobwebs. The box was unassuming, wooden with a faded label that simply read, “Don’t Open.”

Curiosity got the best of me. I knew it was probably something from my past, but that label tugged at something deep inside me, urging me to open it. I hesitated for a moment, but then, with a deep breath, I lifted the lid. Inside, I found an old video tape. It was yellowed and cracked with age, but there was no mistaking the handwriting on the label: “For Y/N.”

My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t like me to leave things unexamined, especially if they seemed tied to my past. But this felt different. There was an unspoken warning in those words. Still, I couldn’t resist.

I brought the tape downstairs and found the old VCR player we kept for nostalgia’s sake. Sunghoon was in the living room, reading a book. I hesitated for a moment before calling him over.

“Sunghoon, you have to see this,” I said, holding up the tape. “I found something in the attic…”

He looked at me curiously, putting the book down. “What is it?”

I popped the tape into the player, and the screen flickered to life. At first, there was nothing—just static. But then, the image cleared, and I saw him.

The figure of a man in a lab coat appeared. His features were unmistakable—he was Park Sunghoon, the real Sunghoon, the one who had died in the accident years ago. But this Sunghoon wasn’t the one Y/N knew now. He looked younger, more fragile, and tears stained his face.

“I… I don’t know how to start this,” the Sunghoon on the screen murmured, his voice choked with emotion. “Y/N… is gone. She passed away. Leukemia. It was sudden. I—I couldn’t do anything. She was everything to me. And I… I can’t bear it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She glanced at Sunghoon, whose face had gone pale. He looked at the screen, wide-eyed, his expression unreadable.

“In my grief, I’ve decided to do something I never thought I would. I’m using her preserved DNA, the samples we took when we were researching regenerative cloning… to bring her back. I—I have to do this. I can’t live with the pain of losing her,” the real Sunghoon continued, his voice trembling.

The video cut to a series of clips from the lab: footage of the real Sunghoon working late nights, mixing chemicals, monitoring equipment, and seemingly obsessed with recreating Y/N.

“I’ve used everything we learned in our research. I’ll make her whole again,” the video continued. “But this is for me, I know. For us. I want to have a second chance. A chance to make things right. If you’re watching this, Y/N… then I’ve succeeded. I’ve recreated you.”

The video ended abruptly, and the screen turned to static.

It was strange, to know the truth about their origins—about the fact that their love had been recreated, in a sense, by science and heartache. But as Y/N lay in Sunghoon’s arms that night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that none of it truly mattered. What mattered was that they were together now. They had both fought for this. They had both fought for each other. And nothing in this world could take that away from them.

Their love had brought them to this point—not fate, not science, but love. It was a love that transcended life and death, pain and loss. A love that, no matter what had come before, had always been destined to endure.

They had started as two broken souls, unable to move forward without the other. But now, they were whole again. Their love, their memories—no matter how they came to be—were theirs to cherish.

And that, in the end, was all that mattered.

The rest, the science, the questions of whether they were real or not, faded into the background. Because, in the end, they were real. Their love was real. And that was all they needed to know.

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iqxatlantic · 2 days ago

Note

Omg just read your most recent fic of kaiser and is it possible if I can request a fanfic where reader decides to let him, and after a few minutes of deep talk, kaiser just completely shatters, I mean, breaks down in sobs and tears in front of reader and reader lets kaiser cry in her lap into her shoulder like a little boy being comforted 😭

GRHHHAHHHH comforting kaiser after i put him thru hell yessss yesss anon you know exactly what i like mwehehehhe

" Because love can burn like a cigarette ! "

ft. michael kaiser . ooc! kaiser (?) . desperate! kaiser? . mmm kaiser being a crybaby . mmm i love kaiser . hurt/some comfort . idk if you wanna go back veo . gn! reader (implied afab) . angst ? . fluff ? . not proof read . kinda half-assed </3

crazy to think you told your friends you'd never let kaiser in again after the shit he's pulled during your situationship. sometimes lies/promises are meant to be empty — mayhaps, broken.

the desperate look in the emperor's eyes, no longer feigning confidence. everything was raw, real. "let me in, [name]. please- i beg. just one more time... last time i swear!" he pleads.

you reluctantly agree, feeling some sort of pity. you saw the imagery, the past that was constantly haunting kaiser within him at that moment.

the man was extremely ashamed of how vulnerable he was at that current moment. stepping into your room — he felt a sense of nostalgia.

you didn't want kaiser to feel abandonment. though you felt that immediately after he had left you. sitting on the corner of your bed, both of you two almost social distancing.

"um, how have you been kai- ahem. michael." you corrected yourself, not wanting him to feel even worse about himself. you knew how much he hated being called by his last name. especially by you.

"i've been doing shit without you." what a blunt ass reply hello. bro cut straight to the chase! a few minutes of trying to get philosophical, deep and sentimental? nah. the blonde was sobbing, face buried between your thighs.

you initially felt gross from the wet feeling seeping through your pants. god this guy held these tears since conception i swear.. but slowly, the more he cried, the more you realized — you never really moved on from him.

those failed attempts on hooking up with random dudes... they all somewhat resembled kaiser. personality wise or look wise. ooooh gawd y'all were literally made for each other. it was god's plan. meant to be, I tell you.

your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of more crying. you looked down at him and his ratched ahh (it really wasnt ratched) hair. "michael, are you okay?" you asked, voice hinting concern.

he didn't reply. he just kept sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing. kaiser knew how vulnerable and weak he looked right now. (MAYBE BECAUSE YOU ARE VULNERABLE AND WEAK WTF?) he felt like that dependent little boy in your arms.

however, something about being like who he was as a child in your arms brought him comfort. you just kept staring at him, dumbfounded by how much he could cry jeez. "michael, it's okay to not be okay. quit your prideful and arrogant self. i know it helped you survive but it's killing you now."

with a broken voice, kaiser wailed into your thighs, "i want you back [name]. i can't live without you. take me back, take me back, please!"

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

a/n: recent fanfic no more... when i said kinda half assed i meant really half assefd lol... i'll cook a harder angst post i swear man... i swear i will... i swear on my life... why is moving on so hard, like damn. oh oh, and thank u sm for 400 followers my pretties 🥹

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authorellasallow · 3 days ago

Text

The Sallow List

pairing(s): Sebastian Sallow x Reader

words: 6.3k

summary: Sebastian Sallow sneaks into your dormitory and finds a list hidden in your bed, one filled with names of girls who want him. All except yours.

When you find him reading the list, offended and curious, he decides to prove exactly why your name belongs at the top.

warnings: contains nudity, sexual themes and mature content that is not advised for younger viewers. descriptive smut. sebastian being competive and possesive. idiots in love. all characters are aged up!

a/n: you could also find this Ao3 too.

dedicated to @kelseyreads22 for the light peer pressure. and my discord peeps for never failing to support the stupid feral shit we all just agree with all the time lmao. you could join us for laughs and content here's the link too. enjoy xx

“What?”

Sebastian Sallow sat mortified on the edge of your neatly made bed. A crumpled parchment with scribbled writings clenched on his hand, still in a blend of a confused and deafening expression.

He hadn’t planned to be there, in your dormitory. Let alone, holding his find. He’d only planned to enter your common room and ask for something, but when he saw the dormitory door slightly ajar, curiosity took the best of him.

And he knew the parchment was yours. It was your bed. It smelled like you — the faint hints of your scent that had lured him in since your arrival the fifth year.

The stemming scent that kept him up late nights when the wind slept and his mind didn’t.

The thought alone ticked Sebastian, and he brought his senses up, his eyes flickering back on the bloody list.

Yes, a list.

Girls. Every name written like some twisted Quidditch scoreboard.

Some from every house, some he’d recognized, and some that he never expected to see there.

The most quietest ones held the most pride in signing this list.

The Sallow List

Sebastian didn’t need much context behind it. The doodles beside the signatures were enough.

— Cressida Blume, his hair looks really soft

— Gracie, his voice?? His moans are probably so deep.

— C. Greengrass, his lips are so pink. They have to be kissable!!!!

— Lenora, I seen how fast his fingers move when he has a quill…what else could they do?

“Ergh,”

It felt invasive to read, but it was a list about him. Curiosity ran thick in his blood, especially on something about him. Something that was in your property.

A slow, vexed frown began to form on his face after re-reading the scribbles. The thickset of his brows furrowed as he looked for one name in particular. Yours.

You weren’t on it.

It felt too ironic for him to know you held this list in your belongings, yet, no evidence of you was there.

He even flipped it over, then back again, convinced he might’ve possibly missed it, knowing you and your small writing he often made fun of — but you weren’t on the list.

And it bothered Sebastian’s ego.

All these girls wanting to snog him, but the one whose bed he was currently sitting on; the one he’s seeking wasn’t among the names.

How annoying — how pesty of you to orchestrate such a thing like this and not be on it.

“Typical,” Sebastian murmured to himself. You always knew how to wind him up without even fucking trying — always with him, but still out of reach after all these years.

The pulse trip you gave him of endless ventures he’d spend with you. The almost ‘what-if’s’ but too cowardly to admit, so instead, he’d spend his growth cycles just wanking himself with your scent and hoping for the best.

The consequence? Your name not being on the list.

You entered breathlessly into your dormitory without notice. Everyone had gone to Hogsmeade for the weekend, including yourself, but you’d forgotten your coin pouch, so you ran back.

When the door swung shut, your steps creaked toward your side before finally finding the person in your space.

“Oh, shit—Sebastian?”

You weren’t even phased by his arrival. The patterns you’d learned about the Slytherin man throughout the years stuck with you, so his presence wasn’t ghostly.

What was ghostly was looking at the crumbled parchment you had sworn was hidden well beneath your pillow, now sitting still over his long fingers, in his possession.

Oh shit.

The list.

The fucking list.

Sebastian didn’t flinch. Hell, he didn’t even bother to act like he’d been in trouble. He had mastermind too many times getting caught by Scribner — but with you finding out he found the list? He just threw a smirk.

“W-What are you doing? Where did you find—“ You didn’t mean to stutter, but the list was a limited item you hid from him for years. An inside joke he now knew about.

The titled smirk didn’t fade from his face. You saw how his eyes laid on the parchment, the wrinkly freckled skin over his lids squinting as he spoke. “Wasn’t aware this was part of the female’s newsletter.”

Your heart dropped, but you passed your saliva and wind a hand up, using a non-verbal Accio spell to get the parchment out of his hands.

Sebastian curved your spell and snatched the paper back to himself.

“Hey,” Your feet worked again, and inched closer to him on your bed, wanting to get the paper from him. “Give me that!”

With a smooth motion, Sebastian stood up from your bed rapidly, and of course, with his ridiculous height advantage, he lifted the parchment enough out of your reach.

“I don’t think so.”

He was tall. And even with the swift motion of holding the parchment upward, you could sniff the manly scent as you tippy-toed a jump to grab it, but it was a fail.

“What is this, eh?” Sebastian asked you.

A blow transmitted out of you mid-dormitory. Your cheeks had been tomato red by now and you’d hope Sebastian didn’t notice the trickle of sweat outlining your forehead as you ignored his question.

“Seriously, Sallow,” You jumped again, but he was ridiculously taller than you. “—give me—“

His gaze was gawking at you. You’d known he was directing his attention at you for an answer, but you’d been busy wanting to take away the list on his hand. “You’re dodging my question.”

“It’s just a stupid list. It’s a joke.” You lied.

It wasn’t really a lie. It started a little after the sixth. Snogging began to occur often in the secretive halls of Hogwarts, and rumored lists would often lure. Considering you were the closest to Sebastian Sallow, one drunk night with the girls led to the list. Thanks to you.

A strange scoff emitted from him. “Oh yeah?” He cooed. There been a roughness in his playful voice that made you feel challenged. He’d always been manipulative for answers, but you didn’t want to give it to him today.

You scratched your forehead with your fingers with a sigh, surrendering to grab the item, and then faced Sebastian.

Both of your eyes met.

It hadn’t been fair really. Besides the height — it was foul to see how stupidly attractive the Sallow man truly was.

A few strands of his brown hair flopped over his forehead, nearly covering the brown eyes that peered at you.

You’d seen him more than any of those girls on the list. None of them were this close to him though. They didn’t manage to see the freckles that kissed the top of his cheeks, or how the color of his brown eyes turned lighter like honey in the light.

You've seen him so much, you could debunk the notes in that list. ‘I want to touch his clear skin’ one would say — but it was flawed with scars that only one would see up close. ‘His lips are so pink, he would be a good kisser’ you couldn’t debunk that, yet.

You passed your saliva, “Why are you stirred up, Sallow? If you read the list, your ego should probably be the size of a quaffle by now.” You spat, crossing your arms and breaking the eye-contact. You only stared at the dent he left on your bed from sitting long.

Sebastian had been in another state though. Not enough names could boost his ego in that fucking list. Not any compliments, not any assumptions — anything, but the one name that wasn’t there.

Wanting to avoid any tension, you began to pace around the space, focusing on what you really came in here for, your coin bag, and pretending like you hadn’t done this cut-off every time there was tension with you and him.

The friendship had been strong. You two have seen the worst and the best out of each other. In battles, in class, in parties — one thing would lead to another, but when there was a hint of something more, usually one pulled away or one became a coward.

“Ugh, where is that damn bag—“

“Does the creator of the list exclude themselves from it?” Sebastian asked.

He stood in the same spot, asking questions, but also watching you waste time to find the coin pouch. He was desperate for an answer. An answer that he wanted to hear and his scheme of manipulation took over. Sebastian wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

You chuckled, “Who said I created it?” Your body bent, going through some drawers at the end of the dormitory.

You were a bit far, but you heard the chuckle from him. It resonated more when nobody else, but you two were the only ones in the dormitory.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Sebastian said, but there was a tip of annoyance in his tone as he projected his truth to you. “ I found it in your bed. Your pillow. And I know your handwriting by now. The title of the list — it’s your writing.” He pointed his finger at the bolded letters.

You froze at how attentive he’d been. It shouldn’t come off as a surprise, but you had to pause your hand digging in your drawer and blink at his words. There, you stood in place, turning slowly over your shoulder and glinting. “What’s your point?”

Sebastian was pissed at how calmly you took this matter. It was only proving that you really did not care about him finding the list as much as he imagined you to. This ticked him off because he was good with girls. He understood why there was a list. He had his way of words to lure and hypnotize them, but you?

The parchment crackled under his grip and you heard it far and clear but didn’t comment. The list became useless at this point if the main ingredient of it found it.

“My point?”

The Adam's apple in his throat moved a little heavier in visual view, but you didn’t notice because your head turned back to the drawer.

But your heart was beating fast. You’d learn throughout the years to avoid conflict. To hide away your real feelings, so to battle such a topic with someone like Sebastian Sallow — it was tough.

“Sebastian, you have like half of Hogwarts tallied up on that list and you’re still complaining?” You snarled, closing the drawer and taking a breath, your coin pouch nowhere to be found.

“All I’m wondering is why your name didn’t make the list.” He said bluntly.

This caught you now. The need to look for your item died down and all you could do was turn to him.

Sebastian held his stand in the same spot you left him in. In the side of your dormitory bed, the list no longer in the air from his height, but on his side, crumbled up in madness.

You swallowed, your steps taking tardiness as you approached him again.

Only you knew the truth, but the least you could’ve done was sign your name. The risks of prioritizing your feelings first rather than wanting to keep a friendship with Sebastian Sallow were high. You were not going to risk it again.

“My name?” You laughed it off, looking to the side. “Why the hell would my name be there?”

Sebastian didn’t laugh. You didn’t even hear a wince of a scoff or chuckle. He wasn’t matching your energy, so you stopped looking to the side and looked up.

There was a grave expression on his face. Those honey-like eyes you were admiring minutes back became dawn darkness from your words and you raised your brows at him.

Sebastian tilted his head a little and blinked with a mocking questioning. “Am I not your type?”

A nervous laugh spilled out of you. It was not funny. It was more of a laugh of hiding away the truth. You could no longer tell if he was teasing as he always was with himself, or demanding truth.

“Are you being serious?”

“I am.” He narrowed.

The air thickened, but you pursed your lips and then pressed them with a hesitant nod. “I just—I—“ you didn’t mean to stutter, but it was getting to you. “We’re…we’re friends,…and…and…”

“You’d known me more than anyone else in this castle, more than Ominis. I’d guess to boost my ego you could’ve written down a few compliments or so in this list to help. Don’t you think?”

You gulped.

Sebastian stepped closer, barely a hand’s length now between the two of you. He’d now begged himself for you to self-confess. Perhaps, it’s become a mutual feeling now, but you were a hard rock to break. It was impossible.

“And then what, Sallow?” You weren’t afraid of his closeness. You have been close to him many times, but even with an empty room with so much space, this one killed you. “Be part of this list too?”

His jaw clenched at your words. It wasn’t even a tease. You were just asking a question as you stared, but it still bothered him. It wasn’t enough.

“Am I not fuckable enough for you?”

It hadn’t even been a joke anymore. There was no cracked smug over his mouth. No glint in his eyes. Just a cold sting of frustration, pride, and something lower — something he didn’t want to admit.

As he asked that, the same list he had crumbled in his fingers crackled under both of you.

Your breaths were higher now and even if you wanted to take your eyes off him, you couldn’t. There was this appalling appearance in you from his question and you knew by now that he’d taken notice of how your chest raised in and out from the nerves.

“I bet if this list said Weasley, your signature would’ve been the first on top, wouldn’t it?” Sebastian dug now. There was a possessive and impulsive timbre in his voice. He hated mentioning the redhead, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your eyes widened, not expecting him to cross lines now, unplanned. “Are you out of your mind?”

Sebastian’s breath shifted, slower and heavier from your reaction. He looked like he wanted to respond, but it caught between his teeth.

Your eyes glazed on his, then on his flushed cheeks. The little tint of pink that lay on his sides wasn’t there and before you could question anything, you twirled, walking away. “Whatever, Sallow. Just go have fun with the list of names—“

The steps you took from your bed to the door didn’t make it far. Sebastian moved fast, but your Ancient Magic moved faster, sensing his follow and before he could make a stop on you, you turned around facing him.

On unfortunate luck, he’d been close enough for you to step backward and feel your back touch the wall from behind. You took a heavy breath, watching Sebastian lift an arm over your shoulder, flatly on the wall beside you, and bend to stare down.

He’d caged you, so you wouldn’t leave as both of your heights reached the same scale.

It’s like his stare burned into you. Only the sound of his breath blew on your nose from how close he had been. You watched how he lifted his right hand in slow motion, wanting you to watch him show you the crumbled list in his grasp.

The list was fucked at this point. From his anger.

“You think I give two fucks about the names on this list?” He asked you.

You were staring at the paper, but even with that, you sensed his stare stalling at you with every word he said.

The air on the empty setting tightened now. That little humor you were bringing on earlier set off and now things felt serious.

“It’s…it’s a lot of names in there, Sallow.” Your throat itched demanding a sentence to him, but his breath seemed to win over.

“And yours?” Sebastian asked, again. He didn’t back off. He stayed closed, watching you like the truth was buried behind your words.

Your eyes met the frame of his jawline. It’ll pinch with his questions and you weren’t brave enough to stare into his eyes anymore.

But Sebastian didn’t hold his limits anymore. He stepped closer, much closer than he’d ever dared, and lowered right in the inch of your earlobe, his lips brushing on the outline and you shivered.

“What do I have to do,” He murmured in a deliberate struggle. “—to make you write your name in this list?”

The whisper held you under your skin now. This tension coiled between the two of you and the restraint in his voice only made you clenched, not in your throat, but in your core. You’d been afraid if you pressed your legs together, it’d clench faster from his position.

“S-Sebastian…”

“Tell me,” He demanded. “I’d spent the last years doing enough to think you’ll write your signature in such a list about me, yet,” his breath blew inside your ears. “…it wasn’t enough.”

You’d always had your eyes prying on Sebastian Sallow, since the fifth year, but the blockage of friendship and comfortableness layered it.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t enough.

It was that you’d never dared to let yourself want him openly — because if you did…it would never be just 'wanting'.

“Do I have to prove it to you?” Sebastian’s voice cracked over the last word. It sounded like a prayer. To have this blessing of allowing him to take this to his advantage.

Sebastian struggled. He struggled enough in the past years. He couldn’t keep holding back on this very moment. It had been enough in the cycle, and this frustration of rejection — he couldn’t stand it. Not from you.

He couldn’t stand how you stood below him, innocently, pretending like not one inappropriate thought crossed your bloody head this entire time, but he liked a challenge.

There was this competitive thrill for Sebastian Sallow to prove himself right. To have this source of ability to prove something. Persuading something — persuading you.

Pleasuring you.

His nose kept tickling over your ear, and he took the benefit of that scent of yours. To smell the small strands of your hair behind the ear as he kept his eyes closed, waiting for an answer, but also holding in the strained hardness that flexed over his pants below.

His cock twitched with every breath of yours.

“Speak up, sweetheart.” He said roughly, not having the great ability to hold back, but your lack of answers were edging him. “We could answer all those assumptions about me in this,” with one hand he un-crumbled the list again and brought it to your eyes. “…list.”

He was silly, but the butterfly feeling between your legs at the moment said otherwise from his intense tease.

“You don’t wonder how my fingers,” Sebastian read off the list, rephrasing the jotted lines of girls handwriting. “…write so fast with a quill…imagine what else…” his hands journeyed to your hip, giving the first touch before tracking down your skirt. “…they can do?”

Your leg shifted in a twitch from the touch. He’d only rested the warmth of his finger a little below your skirt, into your skin, but you gasped at his words.

“‘His lips are so pink’” He read off. You could still feel his face near your ear, but he came back up and faced you. You’d been a flush of a mess, but Sebastian edged closer as he kept reading. “…how kissable are they?”

A menace. He was a fucking menace.

But he transferred the curiosity to you. You always found yourself wondering how soft his hairs really were. Or if his lips really were —

Sebastian gave up on the silence. His hands let go of the parchment and let it fall onto the floor. Before you could watch the fall of the list, you were blocked by a pair of lips on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was all in frustration and force. Of wanting something that had been sitting for years. A breath-stealing kiss two parties yearned for enough to make a fair moan from just a kiss.

The one hand that held a list now cradled over the side of your face and a thumb brushed your cheek as you were grounded with a sloppy make-out session that both of you clearly ached for too long.

Sebastian kissed good. Dangerously good.

He held you captive over the wall, his tongue dancing over your own, guiding permission. His brows frowned, not from anger, but from how good kissing you felt. It was an ecstatic feel and it was just kissing.

You were in no help of a stop. Instead, your hands reached in an instinct, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer. Your hands threading through those soft brown hairs everyone wondered about.

It was a hard study between heat and examination. You gripped the hairs, softer than ever — Sebastian groaned into your mouth from the pull and his fingers clutched the side of your hips from resisting.

They were, in fact, really soft.

Your back pressed the bed soon after. The make-out session on the wall quickly transferred back into your dormitory bed and with a soft thud, Sebastian threw you onto the pillow, making you reach for a breath.

“Oh, we’re not finished yet,” Sebastian warned huskily. “Everyone’s at Hogsmeade…and I’m here to prove my point.”

He dove back into your mouth with more need than before. The weight of his hand on the side of your hip found its way beneath your shirt, feeling the raw aspect of your stomach before scrunching it up.

Over grounded mouths, you’d often breathe heavier than usual when the air of the dormitory felt colder on your skin as Sebastian folded up your shirt above your chest and reached over a breast.

His finger traced the middle of your breast, purposely tickling you and triggering the hardness of your nipples. You both watched his actions and you flushed, wanting to return the invasion by bringing your hand downward over his pants and attempting to find his bulge.

He’d been hard and thick. You palmed him lightly, but it was a hard reach from his height to yours. You’d only been able to get a sense of what he hid behind the fabric and you could only now imagine how he would feel inside of you.

You weren’t always stuck in an inappropriate daze. There wasn’t shame in touching yourself in the quietest hours of the night in a bath or empty dormitory. It was easier than admitting how much you wanted him all those years when the sun was up and walls were closed.

But now it became difficult when Sebastian, the real Sebastian, pressed against you, kissing you like he’d been waiting for this too. To prove a point of a name.

The thought made your thighs want to press together again, to get the same heartbeat notion between your legs, but now, the body of Sebastian blocked it. You couldn’t press them and he noticed that.

“Open your legs,” Sebastian ordered, feeling your denial.

“I just—oh,”

He moved quickly, pressing the longness of his fingers under your skirt. His touch circled around the thin fabric of your underwear before pressing three fingers lightly over to feel the dampness outside of you.

“Sebastian,”

A breath hitched out of his mouth. He’d lost count of how many times his cock twitched, begging for an out as he found out how soaked you were for him. For him.

“Agh,” He said in satisfaction, almost amazed from the feel. “��they said they wondered what else these fingers,” you felt them nibble the bud of your clit, still with underwear on as he spoke over your whimpers. “…do besides writing fast.”

The touch was gentle, but so powerful. Sebastian had stopped kissing and now paid his full attention to his fingers beneath you, under your lifted wrinkled skirt he dragged up and watched his own fingers trigger your sensitive nerves even more.

And he felt how you clenched with each nub.

It felt humiliating. Humiliating to know that once his fingers moved your underwear to the side, he was going to feel how wet you’d been over the course of the hour. How with such an unnecessary proof of point, you exposed yourself too on your feelings.

“Merlin,” Sebastian fought over himself, not caring about his truth out loud. “I just want to bury myself inside of you like this, but…”

He didn’t say much after, and before you could question his denial need of fucking you, you gave a low whine when two fingers entered between your folds carefully, a slushy sound echoing over the ears from the arousal.

They’d been long. His fingers. Sebastian kept it slow and gentle, examining how far he could go with them. He lifted his head once wanting to see how you’ll react. You were already a beautiful mess, giving gentle moans and biting your lip constantly from his movements.

“…how can I when the sound of your pleasure brings lullabies to my ears,” Sebastian resisted, fingering you faster, “…my cock.”

A thumb reached the outside of your clit, rubbing slowly and you clenched much slowly, feeling the triggering effect of Sebastian learning what pace you moan louder from his fingers.

“Are they,” he would curl a finger inside of you for a ting of tease and you yelp as he spoke. “…really faster than a quill, hm?” He challenged.

What a provocative little shit.

You couldn’t even talk well to insult him. You’d been so lost in his pace that when he removed his fingers from you, a mushy sound electrified and you breathed.

Sebastian lifted over you, and with the small movement of that, you saw the outline of his cock fighting in his pants. His hands reached down his belt and he raised his eyes like a wild animal looking for prey as you watched him.

Embarrassed from catching you eyeing him, you felt colored again and looked away, giving the privacy of undoing himself, but only a bubble of a laugh threw you off.

“I recall someone scribbled,” Sebastian began to remind you of the list of assumptions as he pulled his pants down. “‘I wonder if his cock is as thick as his ego.’”

You kept looking at the opposite perspective, not wanting to see. Also, to hide the blush that crept over you from what he was saying. All you did was blink at the stupid window across the dormitory.

“Darling,” Sebastian threw a pet name on you for attention. He would sometimes throw them in over the years with a silly friendship thing, but now it sounded heavy and with direction.

You licked your lips, but then felt a hand weight down beside you. Your saliva lingered over your throat as you felt that Sebastian had finally hovered over you again, and once you turned around, he’d be right there.

“Don’t you,” You shivered feeling a few fingers trace your collarbone and down the buttons of your shirt, starting to undo them. “…want to know if is as thick as my ego?”

You let him undress you, but it took a good portion of seconds to gain the courage to turn your head at his nude body before yours.

Cock wasn’t the first thing you saw. It’d been his broad chest — the way his tanned skin vibrated perfectly on the freckles that stamped him. They weren’t only on his face, but they reached down his shoulders, onto his back. A few down his abdomen until you saw him.

He was big. You saw the outline, but now in a raw view, you swallowed from the veins that strained out of it. It stared at you, like a mind of its own and it clearly showed the wanting of Sebastian to you. His cock dripped with pre-cum and it twitched from its pink tip, prepared.

It became stupid when you felt the same familiar heartbeat between your legs again, despite him fingering you pleasurably, you wanted more. You wanted him.

“Hey—“

“Get inside me.” You begged.

By now, from the severe distraction of admiring Sebastian’s body, you’d been nude yourself from his help. The buttoned shirt you once wore had been hanging on the tip of another girl’s bed and you shivered.

You overthought your command, sounding needy and stupid. “I mean—“

Sebastian didn’t think twice about your needs. You felt his lips land on yours, but your once-sitting bodies now lay back down over the pillow. His hand sprawled over the side of your face as he went between your legs and played around himself.

You hummed, feeling his tip linger around the outside of your skin. It rubbed over your drenched cunt on its own as Sebastian kissed you passionately.

The temperature felt hotter as Sebastian brought a hand down under your bodies and eyed the moment before taking a glance at you. “Yes?”

“Please.” You closed your eyes.

Sebastian stared at you. In his head, it crossed that he watched you right now, waiting for you to start writing what none of those girls could ever, ever, write in that list.

He didn’t enter you gently.

His entrance was rough and within gasp, he shut his eyes, squeezing them — hoping for the best of his fucking ego to not cum in that very second as you clenched. “Fuck.”

Your nails dug into his back from the shift of his hips slamming into you and gasped loudly, having to break the kiss.

“F-Fuck…” Sebastian went out of you but kept his tip stuck in your entrance. “…I’m trying to be gentle, but—“

“You were proving a point, weren’t you?” You throw in.

It was a dangerous commitment. There wasn’t turning back on what you had said. To prove a point. Sebastian didn’t hesitate on your words and stood by his words.

He crawled his hand under your body, bucking it up a little before he plunged inside of you like a slap. You both gasped and then he began to fuck you endlessly as time depended on it.

His cock buried inside powerfully. Sebastian didn’t play. He would go deeper and deeper with every rapid thrust, wanting to angle himself perfectly to feel the depth of your cervix and mark himself enough for it to remember him forever.

He’d watched as the pretty little mouth of yours parted with each movement. How your breasts bounced perfectly beneath him and he’ll go back to watching himself thrust into you, in and out, deep and deeper, harder and rougher — oh, he loved it. He loved you.

Your moans and expression sent him over the edge. His goal was to satisfy you to bring your name into the list — but it was never really the stupid list. It was just you. His heart had always been on you. And to finally have you tied on him, finally, he wanted to prove all those lost times of just ‘being friends’.

“Oh,” You moaned.

“Y-You’re so…tight around me, you know?” He complimented, bending forward to caress your cheek with his thumb. “…I could feel you…pressing around — shit — my co-cock with each thrust.”

You did clench with each thrust. He’d been so thick and long, that you couldn’t help the feeling of hugging him inside your walls and keeping him there forever.

The bed made squeaking sounds over the dormitory. It was loud and if Sebastian kept the pace he was doing, the bed would most likely hit the wall across the room.

Neither of you could hear the bed as much as the squelching sounds of skin-to-skin in the air. The way Sebastian drilled into you as his balls slapped beneath your cunt over each motion making you whimper and moan.

But Sebastian became attentive to the noise of the small bed. Sure, he enjoyed your sounds, but his easily distracted mind didn’t allow him to enjoy it fully — so he cuffed you under his arms and carried you to the nearest wall again.

“Sebastian!” You gasped, feeling your back against the cold wall, but it was soon replaced by heated pleasure again as Sebastian pressed into you.

His chest rubbed over your breast as he held you tightly and made you bounce up and down over him on the wall. “Yes?”

One hand gripped your ass beneath you for a force and the other hand of his rested flatly beside you on the wall, using it as a control to keep himself in balance and submerge every inch inside of you.

You’d won over the list. That list that you’d convinced yourself that with all these girls wanting Sebastian Sallow, your chances would lower — but you’d been wrong. Super wrong.

“D-Do you know…” Sebastian breathed, bringing his forehead against yours. Your breaths were heavy and his sweaty hairs touched yours. “-how long I waited to do this with you?”

You gave a half-laugh half-gasp at his honesty over the sex. You were both sweaty, but as your head bobbed over each other, you couldn’t help, but kiss again, passionately.

“But,” Your body took a freeze when Sebastian let you down and turned you around to the nearest dresser, the same one you were indeed dying to look for your coin pouch. “I feel like I haven’t proven enough…”

He bent you gently, letting your hands grip the edges of the small dresser before he inserted himself from behind.

The sex became rougher.

You felt how Sebastian twirled his fingers over your hair like a ponytail and used it as a control to inject his cock back inside of you harder. He’d watch as your behind bounced with each pump and whimper from his actions.

his voice?? His moans are probably so deep. Someone had written on the list.

They were deep.

His moans were deep.

His cock was deep.

His words were deep.

“Oh, yes,” He’d moan over your ear. “Perfect.”

You’ll clench and he’ll let out rough groans, synchronizing with your moans.

“Oh yeah.” You murmured.

Sebastian didn’t think he’d get harder than he already was, but your sounds bricked him awfully. He’d often had to think about clown suits or Prewett dressed as a banana to keep himself going a little longer, but that just fucked his mind.

As he took you from the back, he leaned forward, moving strands of hairs from one side of your neck and becoming a sucking machine on you. He sucked your shoulder, up to your neck, and when you raised your head to see his actions, he found your mouth, clumsily kissing you.

The kisses became lazier and the movement became aggressive. You’d known that if Sebastian kept the pace he was going in right now, you’d reach an orgasm. More if his hand moved into your clit and rubbed it.

“P-Please…” You begged.

“Please, what?” He struggled. “Tell me…tell me what do you want, sweetheart?” He breathed, his voice blending with the slamming sounds.

There wasn’t an ability to talk. Instead, you responded to the hot breath vibrating near your ear before your head spun and met in a desperate kiss with Sebastian. Tongues tangled frantically and a hand of his snaked over your sweat-licked bodies.

His hand lowered and you tucked your stomach, feeling a steady rub of circles over your clit. Sebastian had read you well, determined to push you on edge with him.

“Was pinning you like this,” Sebastian hissed. “-w-worth it?”

The man had proved his point. From how ecstatic he made you feel right now, you were set to write your signature big and bolded over the fucking list. Hell, you’d even highlight it with your reasonings, but the idea of other women knowing how good Sebastian Sallow fucked didn’t allow you.

Perhaps, you had to make another secret list with him only knowing now.

“Yes, yes,” You pleaded.

With pleads and moans, Sebastian felt his cock draw up tightly, balls clenching as he signaled a finish.

It was chaotically messy. A disheveled moment of both of you reaching a coarse point with curses and final moans.

It was planted that you weren’t going to be able to walk for a while after Sallow’s moves. He made sure he gave his all to you in a short amount of time and you couldn’t envision how he would act in a normal setting of sex.

You found yourself like one of the girls on the list. Wondering with curiosity — if he fucks that good in sneaking minutes, how would he be with all the time in the world?

“Well,” Sebastian tilted minutes later, fully clothed, picking up the list that had fallen to the floor. A small tugging smile crept on him as he held it up to you, all sweaty and all. “—I’m sure you have a lot to say for this list, don’t you?”

His eyes peered on yours. He wanted a definite yes answer to it. The satisfaction of you admitting he pleasured you so well, you wanted to put yourself on this list.

Half-tiredly, your fingers conjured a pen over him, and the list was snatched from his hold before you brought it down to a flat surface on the wall and began to sign.

You made sure your name was big and bolded at the bottom, enough for anyone to see. Sebastian watched with you.

He’s HUGE and he’s mine.

He became flustered at the scribble but didn’t complain. He looked down, smiling to himself like he won the lottery of some sort.

“This list though,” You murmured, making it poof away with your magic. “Would only be visible to me and you now, Sallow.”

Sebastian gave a humming noise at your demanding tone. “Hm, yeah?”

"Yes."

#sebastiansallow #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow one shot #sebastian sallow x fmc #sebastian sallow/reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #smut #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #discord #x reader #reader insert #ao3

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nephynes · 15 hours ago

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now we need a pt.2 where she tells sunghoon that she stopped taking pills and then all hell broke loose

it really did need a part 2 (just with a little twist)

MDNI

part 1 here

══════════════════════════

You noticed the first time when the pack only had three left. It was a quiet morning, you were still tucked in your sheets, barely awake, your body sore in that sweet way that meant he'd had you up against the wall the night before. He was still asleep, arm flung lazily over your waist, head nuzzled into your neck like always.

And you remembered.

You blinked at the tiny foil circles on your nightstand and whispered, "Hoonie, can you go by the pharmacy this weekend? I'm running low."

"Mhm," he hummed into your skin, lips brushing your shoulder. "I'll go tonight."

It didn't seem like a big ask. He always got them for you. The pharmacy was one town over, weird prescription rules, out-of-stock chains nearby but he never complained. If anything, he insisted on doing it. Said he didn't like the idea of you going alone. Said he wanted to be the one taking care of you.

You liked that. You really liked knowing he was the one who kept you safe. That he knew your cycle better than you did. You never questioned it.

Until it started happening again.

You brought it up two days later. Then again three days after that. Each time, his answer was the same — a little nod, a "don't worry, I'll get them," followed by a kiss to your forehead or a squeeze of your thigh, and that was that.

But the pills never came.

And now you're sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, blanket wrapped around your waist, legs trembling from how hard you just came against your own fingers and nothing feels like enough.

Your body's hot, worse than usual this time. Your nipples ache, your thighs twitch, and your skin feels like it's crawling with need. The kind of need only he can fix. And you already know why.

Because it's day 14 of your cycle, you're not on the pill.

You're ovulating and you’re sure he knows it.

You stare blankly at the empty blister pack in your palm. The pale blue foil catches the light, mocking you.

Something's off. You know it. He hasn't forgotten. Sunghoon doesn't forget. He's meticulous, always ten steps ahead, always watching over you, always running that hand down your back in bed and whispering, "You're safe with me, baby. I've got you."

You're not scared. Not really. But something coils tight in your chest as you pad out into the living room and see him on the couch, lazy in sweats, one hand resting on his chest, the other on his phone.

He looks up the second he hears your footsteps.

"Hey," he says gently. "You okay?"

You hold up the empty pack, voice tight. "You still didn't go."

He doesn't say anything right away.

Just sets his phone down.

Sits up.

"I meant to," he offers. "I just... forgot again."

You stare at him. Waiting for a smirk. A tell. Something. But all you see is that calm, steady gaze, the same one he gives you when he's watching you undress. Or when you're riding him and don't realize he's memorizing every whimper.

"You don't forget," you whisper.

He sighs.

Runs a hand through his hair.

"No," he says finally. "I don't."

The words hit you like a pin drop in a silent room.

You blink. "So... you didn't forget?"

His throat bobs. He leans back slowly, knees spread, eyes on you like he's already imagining you falling to them.

"I kept meaning to. But the longer I didn't... the harder it was to go."

You don't move. You don't breathe. Because you're starting to understand.

"You knew I was almost out."

"I knew."

"You knew I'd ovulate this week."

He nods.

"And you didn't go."

He doesn't answer.

The air turns heavy. You can feel it pressing down on you. All that need swirling low in your belly flares — not just arousal now, but disbelief, betrayal, want. So much want you think it might break you.

You cross the room slowly, blanket still wrapped around you, and straddle his lap without a word. His hands don't move. Not yet. They sit at your hips, thumbs stroking your skin softly, reverently.

"Tell me why," you breathe.

He looks up at you like you already know the answer.

"Because I wanted you like this," he says, voice hoarse. "Wet. Needy. Desperate."

You let out a shaky breath. Your body's already betraying you, pressing into him, grinding slow circles against the half-hard bulge in his pants.

"That's fucked up."

"I know, baby." He sighs out the words, "I didn't want to."

There's a snap in the air between you. Like something invisible just cracked clean in half.

"You wanted this," you whisper.

He doesn't even pretend to lie.

"I did."

You stare at him, stunned. Heat surges down your spine, your core clenching without permission, like your body's already made the decision your mind hasn't caught up with yet.

Sunghoon notices.

Of course he does.

His hands slide up under your shirt, slowly dragging the hem higher until it rests above your hips, baring your soft thighs in his lap. He breathes in sharply when he sees there's nothing underneath.

"Fuck."

You shouldn't do this. You know you shouldn't but you feel too full of want, too fogged with hormones. You should get up. You should fight him.

Instead, you lean in, grip his jaw with both hands and kiss him so hard your teeth knock. He groans, mouth opening under yours, tongue sliding in deep, desperate. His hands clamp down hard on your hips and pull you flush against his cock, grinding you over him once, twice, until you're gasping.

"Let me," you beg against his lips. "Let me ride you. I—I need it."

His eyes flutter shut. His voice comes out strangled.

"Fuck, please don’t say that."

"I do."

"You don't."

You rock against him again, dragging your bare cunt over the thin fabric of his sweats, soaking him through. He bites back a moan.

"I'm not wearing a condom," he warns, but his hands are already tugging your shirt off, dragging it over your head.

"You never put one on."

"I haven't replaced your pills."

"I know."

He freezes.

His eyes search yours, mouth parted, breath uneven.

"Say it again."

"I know I'm not on the pill," you whisper, trembling. "I know what I'm doing."

His voice breaks.

"Fuck—"

In a second, he's lifting you, maneuvering you under him, kneeing the sweats down just enough to free himself. His cock slaps up against his stomach, thick, hard, flushed red and leaking at the tip and you whimper at the sight of it, eyes wide.

He doesn't tease. He doesn't drag it over your folds or play with you like he usually does. He just lines up and presses in, slow, steady, impossibly deep.

You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. He groans low in your ear, arms caging you beneath him, breath ragged.

"God, you're always so tight—"

You're already clenching around him, your walls fluttering from the stretch. He holds himself still once he's fully inside, trembling.

"I shouldn't," he pants. "I know I shouldn't. But you feel so fucking good." “Doesn’t matter how many times I fuck your needy little cunt op—” “Oh fuck! Baby stop clenching.”

"Don't stop," you plead.

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You choke on a moan.

He does it again.

Again.

Harder.

"You feel that?" he growls, voice guttural. "That's me, filling you raw."

You sob, nodding.

"And you're gonna let me, aren't you?" His hand cups your jaw, forces you to look at him. "You're gonna let me stay inside. Gonna take everything I give you."

"Sunghoon—"

"You want me to cum in you?" he asks, eyes wild. "Want me to fill you up and not pull out?"

You cry out something that sounds like yes. Or maybe please. You don't know anymore.

He groans a dark, possessive sound and fucks into you harder, deeper, panting between words.

"I'm gonna ruin you. You know that, right?"

You whimper, nodding frantically.

"You're mine," he growls. "And if I get you pregnant... good."

You moan, high and wrecked, your back arching as he drills into you.

"Good," he repeats, snapping his hips forward. "You were made to take me like this."

His hand slips between your bodies, finds your clit and rubs tight circles until your legs shake, and that's it, the pressure explodes, white-hot and overwhelming, your orgasm tearing through you like a dam breaking.

Sunghoon curses under his breath, buries himself to the hilt, and finally gives in knowing he’s made you cum, he moans your name as he spills into you, hot and deep and endless.

He doesn't pull out.

Not for a long time.

Not even when you start to come down and blink up at him, dazed and dizzy, your thighs still twitching around him.

He just kisses your temple and mutters, "We'll talk about pills later."

══════════════════════════

• a/n: well sunghoon’s definitely gonna be a daddy now 🤷🏽‍♀️

#sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon smut #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen drabbles #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enha smut #enhypen fanfiction

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ellieslittleslutt · 2 days ago

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Teacher!Ellie hcs :3

cw: none i don’t think…

an: guess whose finally back after a while. tbh i probably will disappear again if i can’t come up with anything but oh well!! also this is kinda long soooo

⋆˚꩜｡ teaches sciences but mainly physics, sometimes she will substitute for art if it’s open.

⋆˚꩜｡ always dresses like a little boy and jeans and some random shirt she had which leads her to get stopped in the halls by other teachers asking for her pass.

which leads to a whole explanation of how she actually works there and ends up pulling her id out.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep her door open during lunch and after school incase some kids come stop by either to chat or just hang.

sometimes she’ll get extra excited when you’ll come in after schools over to sit and finish some work.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep music playing in the back when you two are working so that the silence doesn’t make her antsy.

“ellie what the fuck is this?”

you ask putting your pencil down looking at her as some random ass song plays like Ayesha erotica starts.

“what it has catchy lyrics”

⋆˚꩜｡ cannot stand the lunches at the school so she always packs her own, most of the time they consist of a rushed sandwich and a juice box.

after coming into her room and seeing her atrocious lunch you developed a small routine of packing extra vegetables for her so she can get some nutritional value out of the meal.

“the juice box says probiotics in it which means it’s healthy!”

“ellie, sweetie, no.”

sliding a plastic baggie of carrots to her.

⋆˚꩜｡ her students KNOW she has a fat crush on you. once while she was teaching you came in to ask about a schedule and her cheeks got all pink at the way you kept your voice low and soft so you won’t disturb the kids.

after leaving one kid started ooing causing the rest too follow and she grumbled putting her fav in her hands “i’m failing you all”

⋆˚꩜｡ felt honored once when a kid came to her asking them to draw on their converse like how she did because they thought ellie was cool. would not shut up about that for days.

⋆˚꩜｡ keeps her carabiner on all the time with all her keys on it making it very obvious when she’s about to come into your room.

⋆˚꩜｡ on pajama day she brought in her massive bear form ikea and it never came back home, earning itself a place on her rug.

⋆˚꩜｡ once she came bursting into your room complaining about the kids but immediately shut up when she saw you giving her a soft smile, hair tied back messily, with reading glasses propped on your forehead and started to get all flustered.

⋆˚꩜｡ has a problem with accidentally swearing in classes. she would be demonstrating an experiment for the class but when it fails mumbles an “you’re fucking joking” and quickly looking back at the class who all started being over dramatic about it.

“my innocence is gone ms. williams!”

“oh shut it you never had it to begin with daniel”

⋆˚꩜｡ when you offered for her to come back to yours one night for “grading” let’s just say it ended with you two driving to work together, some students definitely asked her about it later causing her to push them out her class.

⋆˚꩜｡ when you two became an established relationship she would only refer to you as “my girlfriend” in classes because she knew her students wouldn’t get off her ass if they knew it was you.

⋆˚꩜｡ once a student came to her panicked about a massive spider in the room and she didn’t want to get it so had to have you pause your work and come in to get it for her.

“you owe me williams.”

you mumbled quietly so no one but her could hear placing a lingering hand on her hip while walking out with the spider in a beaker. stood there frozen for a solid minute already excited to get home to you that night.

⋆˚꩜｡ her white board is dedicated to drawings and doodles her students make her putting them up with magnets and letting them draw during breaks.

⋆˚꩜｡ on her desk she has a jar full of small plastic dinosaurs she’ll give out if the students were good and was once gifted a bag full of tiny babies on her birthday. definitely came to you sobbing about it slurring out some jumbled mess about how she loved her students.

⋆˚꩜｡ two days later she was sat on the couch in you classroom rocking while mumbling “i love my job i love my job i love my job” after a parent yelled at her for talking about the moon landing.

#ilove this little gay oml #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams fluff #loser!ellie #ellie x reader #the last of us #tlou2 #tlou ellie #ellie williams head cannons #lesbian #arcane violet #vi x reader #arcane vi #vi arcane #vi #arcane league of lesbians #arcane league of legends

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amnncz · 3 days ago

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nightwing x teammate! reader

you’ve always had a thing for him — the way his dark hair curls around the edge of his mask, the way he moves like poetry in motion, the way his voice dips into something soft whenever he says your name.

you’re part of the team. a hero in your own right. you know how to hold your ground in battle, how to fight for what’s right. but when it comes to dick grayson? nightwing? you're a little helpless.

you always thought it was one-sided. and maybe it is. but then there are those moments — the small ones — that feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s looking at you differently too.

like how he always stands just a little closer to you than he needs to.

how he always finds a reason to talk to you after meetings, even when everyone else has left the room.

how he smiles at your dumb jokes — really smiles, like you’ve said something brilliant. and sometimes you catch him staring when he thinks you aren’t looking, his gaze soft, unreadable, and it makes your heart race in the worst way.

you remember one time, during a mission debrief, you were rambling — nervous, hands flailing, words rushing — and he just watched you with that look again. like you were the only one in the room. then he reached over, brushed your knuckles with his gloved hand, and said, “slow down. i’m listening.”

you don’t know if it meant something. you hope it did.

and there are the little things.

he brings you your favorite drink after a long patrol, and says he “just happened to pass by” the one café you like — even though it’s completely out of the way.

he always calls you to his side when things get tense. never anyone else. just you.

his voice softens on the comms when he talks to you. even in the middle of a fight. even when things go bad. “you okay?” he always asks first. “talk to me. say something.”

and every time you come back a little scraped, a little bruised, he’s already reaching for the med kit before anyone else moves. he patches you up with careful hands and eyes that look like they’re carrying words he’s never said out loud.

you feel it. but you're afraid to name it.

then one night, after a mission, you’re sitting on the rooftop of titan’s tower. tired. quiet. the city hums softly below, and the wind’s cool against your skin.

he finds you. then, sits beside you.

he doesn’t speak at first — just offers you the second bottle of soda he brought. your favorite flavor, of course.

you take it. thank him. your fingers brush. again.

his eyes linger.

"you’ve been quiet lately," he says. “i notice.”

your heart skips.

you turn to him slowly. “i didn’t think you’d—”

“i always notice you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. like it’s a secret just for you.

and suddenly, the world slows down.

the way he’s looking at you — like you’re the only star in his sky. the way his shoulder leans just slightly against yours, grounding you, pulling you closer. the way your heart’s beating so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

“sometimes,” he says, eyes still on yours, “i catch myself looking at you when i shouldn’t.” your breath hitches.

he smiles — small, almost shy.

“but i can’t help it,” he says.

and in that moment, with the city lights reflected in his eyes, with the quiet between you glowing with something too gentle to name, you wonder if this has always been love — the kind that sneaks up slowly, softly, and stays.

#nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick wayne x reader

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blueberrybirdsworld · 9 hours ago

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Collision 18/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : SMUT (MDNI)

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 18 :

It didn’t happen all at once.

That’s the thing about healing, it doesn’t arrive like thunder. It seeps in like morning light through a curtain. Slow. Warm. Barely noticeable until it’s wrapped around you completely.

And that’s how it was with Ariana and Lando.

Days passed. Then weeks.

They didn’t label anything. They didn’t rush. They just… existed. Softly. Side by side.

He came to Paris more often. Never announced with grand gestures. Just plane tickets bought at dawn, a text that said “coffee?” and him waiting outside the Palais Garnier with a scarf wrapped too tightly around his neck, holding a paper cup with her favorite blend.

Sometimes she let him up to her place. Sometimes she didn’t.

She was still cautious. Still herself.

But the locks began to turn.

One morning, she left the key under the second flowerpot by her door. Didn’t mention it. Didn’t need to.

One afternoon, she brought him into the practice studio and let him sit quietly in the corner, earbuds out, watching her. She didn’t speak. But she danced with more softness than before. As if she was no longer hiding anything.

And one night, when he was halfway to the airport, she called him.

"Do you want to come back? I was going to make soup.”

That was when he knew.

She was letting him in again.

Not with declarations.

But with open doors.

It was spring in Paris the night it finally changed.

The air was lighter. Streetlights shimmered in puddles from an earlier rain, and the city felt like it was catching its breath.

Lando stood outside her building, the sky already dark above, the bouquet in his hand slightly damp from the mist. He used to think she wasn’t the type to like flowers and small intention. But now he knew better.

Ariana was absolutely a flowers-and-ribbon kind of girl.

He knew now that she wore a ribbon in her hair every day, always different colors, always with meaning.

Lavender for quiet. Red for control. White for stillness. Blue for sadness. And pink…

Pink was love.

She’d worn pink more often since he came back.

So he chose flowers to match: soft, pale, and sweet.

She opened the door before he knocked.

Wearing one of his old shirts, no makeup, hair damp from a shower.

“Hi,” she said.

He smiled. “Hi.”

She looked at the flowers, and a little smirk curved her mouth. “You remember what pink means.”

“I do,” he said, voice low and reverent. “And these looked like you.”

Her smile deepened, not teasing, just warm. She stepped aside.

And for the first time, the door stayed close behind him.

They ate on the couch. Soup and wine and toast she burned a little, laughing about it. Her cat Aria sat nearby, perched like a quiet judge, but didn’t protest when Lando scratched behind her ear.

It felt easy. Familiar.

And somehow, entirely new.

After dinner, she curled into his side. Just curled. No tension in her shoulders. No guarded edge.

“Do you want to stay?” she asked softly.

He turned to her. “Yes. Always.”

She looked up at him then, and in that moment something shifted, a gravity pulling them closer than comfort, deeper than familiarity. Her gaze didn’t move, and neither did his.

She leaned up and kissed him.

It wasn’t shy. It wasn’t hesitant. It was full.

The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for permission, it knows the answer already.

He kissed her back immediately, instinct taking over, hand cupping her jaw, pulling her closer, tasting the quiet tremble in her breath. Her fingers found his chest, his neck, his curls, clinging like she’d missed this more than she’d ever admit out loud.

Their mouths met again, and again, messier now, more urgent. Not rushed, but intense. Like the ache had been simmering beneath their skin for months and now had nowhere to go but forward.

Her thigh came over his hip, and he groaned softly, lost in the heat of it, in the smell of her skin, the familiar weight of her body as it settled into him like it never left.

They kissed like they were reclaiming each other. Like love and grief and forgiveness could all live in the space between parted lips.

When she tugged off his shirt, it wasn’t about lust. It was about offering. Trust. Letting him touch the parts of her he once broke and believing he wouldn’t again.

When he ran his hand down her back, her side, her thigh, he did it with reverence. As if mapping the lines of her body was how he would memorize the language she spoke.

He didn’t speak at first, just looked at her. Really looked, like it hurt to blink. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, reverent, like she was something sacred.

Then he kissed her again. Soft. Deep. Unrushed.

Ariana melted into it, into him, every inch of her pressing close as if she could crawl inside his chest and live there. His hand slid to her jaw, holding her like she might vanish if he let go.

“I missed you,” he whispered into her mouth. Not just the words, the ache behind them.

“I’m here,” she breathed. “I’m yours.”

His forehead dropped to hers as he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months. And then he touched her, gently, slowly, fingers trailing over her ribs, her hips, every curve he’d once memorized like a favorite piece of music.

When he slipped his hand between her thighs, it wasn’t possessive. It was worship. He cupped her softly through her panties, brushing his knuckles against the damp cotton, feeling the heat of her arousal. A shiver ran through her.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, voice nearly breaking. “So warm. I missed this… you.”

She nodded, unable to speak as he slid his hand inside, stroking her with the kind of patience that made her toes curl. His fingers moved like he was learning her all over again or maybe like he never forgot.

She moaned into his neck, clutching his shoulder. He curled his fingers just right, and her whole body arched.

“Let go,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I always have.”

And she did, her first orgasm blooming through her like a sunrise, quiet and shaking, her breath caught on his name.

Ariana was still shaking in his lap, her panties soaked, her thighs trembling, her mouth pressed to his neck as she came down from that first orgasm. But Lando didn’t let go, not right away. He held her close, his fingers still inside her, slow and gentle now, easing her through the last waves of it. His lips brushed her temple, then her cheek.

Then, without a word, he shifted, strong arms under her thighs and back and lifted her effortlessly.

She gasped, still dazed, wrapping herself around him. “Where are we going?”

“Your room,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m not done loving you yet.”

She clung to him, breath shallow, heart pounding in the quiet between them. He carried her like something fragile, but with purpose, like he already knew the weight of what was about to happen.

The bedroom door closed behind them with a soft click. Moonlight spilled in through the curtains as he laid her down on the bed like she was something holy. He kissed her again, slow and deep and aching as he peeled the rest of her clothes from her body. Her shirt first, revealing bare skin and goosebumps. Then her panties, still damp with arousal. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of her spread beneath him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “God, Ari… you’re everything.”

When he slid off his briefs, she reached for him but he caught her hand, kissed it, and murmured, “Let me take care of you.”

He rolled on a condom with slow precision, and when he settled between her thighs, he paused, eyes searching hers.

“You sure?” he asked. “Because once I’m inside you… I’m not going to want to stop.”

She reached up, fingers brushing his jaw, her voice barely a whisper. “Lando. Please. I need you.”

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, stretching her, filling her, their breaths tangled in the space between. When their hips met, they both let out broken, gasping moans.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed buried inside her, forehead pressed to hers, heart pounding loud enough she could feel it through his chest.

Then he began to move.

It was slow. Deep. Every thrust deliberate, like he was learning her all over again. His hands cradled her face, then slid down her sides, memorizing the rise and fall of her ribcage, the way her skin shivered under his touch.

“You feel like home,” he whispered. “Like I was always meant to be here.”

She arched up to meet his rhythm, moaning softly, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Don’t stop. Please—don’t ever stop.”

Their bodies moved together like music, like waves crashing and retreating, building to something impossible. He kissed her everywhere : her jaw, her throat, the space just above her heart, each one a silent apology for the time they’d lost.

When she came again, it was slower this time, deeper. Her whole body tensed, then shuddered beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist as she whimpered his name over and over.

But he didn’t stop.

He slowed, just enough to make it last, just enough to keep her teetering on that edge where pleasure blurred into something almost too big to hold. Then he lower his hand to her clit, playing with it, mkaing her shivers under him.

She gasped, overwhelmed, her eyes glistening. “Lando—I—oh god—”

He noticed. The tears. The way her lip trembled. He stopped moving completely, cupping her cheek, kissing her forehead.

“Ari… hey. Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek. But she was smiling, breathless and glowing.

“No,” she whispered. “It just feels so good. I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

That undid him more than anything.

He kissed her slow, soft, trembling with restraint and then began to move again. Gentle at first. Then deeper. Then harder, as her nails raked down his back and she met him with every thrust.

She came a third time, crying out beneath him, her body convulsing, her voice cracking into pieces. She sobbed his name as her body clung to his, her arms around his shoulders, her legs shaking. She was gasping, undone, wrecked in the most beautiful way.

He couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Fuck—Ari—” he groaned, hips stuttering, thrusts turning ragged. “I’m—oh god—I love you.”

He came with a broken cry, burying himself deep, shaking against her as the words spilled out again.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

When it was over, he didn’t move. Just held her, his face buried in her neck, their bodies still joined, breath tangled, sweat cooling on their skin.

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe with someone again,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering, letting the silence hold her first.

Then he said, “You make me feel safe too. Like I can just be me. No performance. No noise. Just… here.”

She looked at him, eyes shining.

“You finally understand my language.”

He nodded. “And I never want to stop learning it.”

They lay there for a long time.

No plans. No questions.

Just skin against skin and trust curling in the space between their ribs.

Then, in the hush of the night, she reached for his hand and laced their fingers.

“I love you, Lando.” she said.

It wasn’t a cry this time.

It wasn’t a secret.

It was steady.

True.

He didn’t tear up.

He didn’t freeze.

He just turned to her fully, pulled her even closer, and whispered it back like it had been echoing in his chest for months:

“I love you too Ari.”

And then he kissed her again, not like he was trying to keep her.

But like he already had her. And would spend the rest of his life making sure she always knew.

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1

Let me know if you want to be add to the taglist !

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1thesewordsaremyown1 · 2 days ago

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I remember there was an interview with Oliver (I think back around season 7?) where he mentioned that Buck so far had fallen easily into relationships, and he wanted Buck to have to work for it a bit.

And we all thought "oh, here it is with Tommy." Because Buck flubbed their first date, decided he needed to fix things, so he called Tommy and asked for a second chance.

And ever since, that work has stopped. Buck essentially became a passenger both in the relationship and after it. The man who decided to treat Abby to a hot air balloon ride to impress her on a date didn't think to buy Tommy a gift for their six month anniversary, even though he said himself that it was a special occasion. When they broke up, he talked over and over about calling Tommy, yet he never did. Sure, the 118 took his phone at one point, but that was one minute out of one day - there were plenty of opportunities when he was by himself where he could have just done what he wanted to do and called him.

It was Tommy who suggested getting back together. And it was Tommy again who let Buck know he still cared for him with "and for you." And yet the only time Buck thought to actually call him was to ask for a favour (poor Tommy, seems the only time the 118 ever want to contact him is to ask for help). Oliver said that he wanted Buck for once to have to work for a relationship, and here was a perfect opportunity for it post break-up, yet the show let him (and us) down. In fact, the only time they let Buck have ANY fire this season was when he was getting pissed over people accusing him of being in love with Eddie. Rather than have him fight for his relationship and give us something to be invested in, they dragged it out with a Buck who just couldn't do anything for himself - not without approval first anyway. It was comforting to think that Tommy meant so much to Buck that he couldn't get over him with the baking, but as it kept going it got to a point where it was like "it has been MONTHS, just DO SOMETHING, since you are clearly miserable."

And look, I get that with Bobby's death and with the grieving it wouldn't have been the right time to talk about their relationship. But the show has made Buck passive about pretty much EVERYTHING this season. They let him just accept Tommy's breakup without a fight and wouldn't let him call him and instead had him bake for MONTHS. They let Eddie walk all over him, treat him like shit and then have BUCK apologise to HIM. They had Chim basically telling him what to do, that he wasn't allowed to transfer (and I'm assuming we'll be coming back in S9 with Buck still at the 118).

Hey show, how about you let Buck make his own decisions? Why don't you let him fight for what he wants? In regards to Tommy, you had him say over and over again that he wanted to call Tommy... and then you never let him do it! You are making him look immature and INCAPABLE of handling a relationship at this point, so unless you are actually going to CONTINUE Buck and Tommy's story next season (and if you don't you have left one MASSIVE dangling thread, because so far their story appears to be unfinished) I don't see how he can be in a new relationship in S9. The Buck we have now, I can't see fighting for a new relationship to survive. Not when he won't even fight for Tommy - the man he wanted to move in with, the man he all but said he was in love with, the ONLY one he has ever brought up the idea of marriage with. How they hell are we as viewers supposed to believe that any other relationship would work?

#once upon a time Buck used to fight for himself #what happened to that?#this fandom has been joking about how Buck is a passenger princess but they LITERALLY turned him into a passenger princess this season #in that he seems completely incapable of making decisions for himself and going after what he wants #writers need to do better #buck deserves so much better #my ramblings #or to be more accurate my rants #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 discourse #911

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userluhna · 2 days ago

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࿔⋆ PIGTAILS

namgyu x reader

based on this request

words: 450

warnings: none! first time writing namgyu hope i did it well, let me know!

enjoy! :)

it happened once when he was sitting on the floor, back to the couch, eyes fixed on something on his computer. you sat on the couch just behind him and reached out, running your fingers through his hair. his eyes fluttered shut for a second not long, but just enough to tell you he liked it.

“oh god—” he muttered. “you bored, or just tryna mess with me?” he exhaled like he was annoyed, but he didn’t move. he never did when you touched his hair. you gathered small sections of it, slowly tying them into messy little pigtails. they sat uneven and soft. you added a small star-shaped hair clip on one side. midway through, he froze.

“what are you doing?”

“getting you hot.”

“yeah, sure. take it off.” you didn’t. you wouldn’t. and he knew you took a picture from above— your masterpiece. when you showed him, he smiled. just a flicker. but enough for you to notice. just barely.

“you better not let anyone see this,” he said, voice flat but not angry. “you got some kinda reputation to protect or what?” he didn’t answer. just rolled his eyes and turned back to his screen. he kept them in. because they were cute. and honestly? they kept his hair out of his face.

every time after that, he’d say, “this better not become a habit.” and yet, there he was again, sitting between your legs, his back to you, not moving as you brushed your fingers through his hair.

sometimes he’d lay with his head in your lap, pretending like he wasn’t there just to feel your hands on him. “don’t get any ideas,” he’d mumble, eyes already closing the second your fingers brushed his scalp. he always kept the pigtails in longer than he meant to. sometimes he forgot about them entirely.

and if anyone ever brought it up in public? full denial. “come on. you think i let someone touch my hair like that?” meanwhile, you had at least ten photos saved on your phone. all of them him, with his dumb little pigtails and that tiny star clip.

masterlist

requests are open!

#namgyu x reader #nam gyu #nam guy x reader #namgyu #player 124 #squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader

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slasherslittlesimp · 2 days ago

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Not Yours Anymore (Jasper X Reader)

Part One

“Do we have to do this?” Paul questions Sam with a sneer on his face, clearly displeased at the idea of having to help the Cullen family.

“It’s a newborn army, Paul. It’s better to fight against them together.” Sam explains, though you can see the displeasure on his face. The only person who seems all for it is Jacob seeing as he’s the person that brought it up- all to protect his little leech lover that has been leading him on for who knows how long.

As the pack argues and debates, you remain silent, simply leaning against the wall of Sam’s kitchen while staring at the ground. You have no particular opinion on whether or not you all help fight. You’ve never met the Cullen’s, and despite knowing they’re vampires you have no problem with their existence since they’re supposedly vegan. You’re actually kind of interested in meeting the family that pisses the rest of the pack off. It’s a shame it’s under the circumstances of fighting a newborn army, though.

You’d prefer not to put your life on the line for people you don’t even know. Though you suppose it’s also to protect your pack since the newborns will be close to your territory. It’s also to protect the rest of Forks, as well, considering the blood suckers have been killing lots of people. Though none of that seems to matter to the others who only seem to care about the fact you’ll be fighting alongside the Cullen family.

“What do you think about this fighting with the leeches crap?” Paul’s voice pulls you from your daze as you look at him, finding him to be leaning against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed and face formed into a scowl.

“I think it’s necessary if we want to keep Forks safe.” You shrug. “Besides, it’s only until the end of the fight. It’s not like Sam is telling you to become best friends with them.”

“So you don’t agree with me?” Paul huffs in anger, nostrils flaring.

You deadpan at him. “Last I checked, we’re no longer dating, which means I’m no longer obligated to side with you on things. You can’t get mad at me for having a different opinion.” You walk away before he can reply, saying a quick goodbye to the others before heading home.

It’s a few days later when you all meet up again, shifting into your wolf forms before heading over to the Cullen house in order to start training for the fight. You linger near the back of the pack, a bit wary about meeting the Cullen’s for the first time.

The Cullen family watches as the pack emerges one by one, Sam’s large black wolf at the front with Jacob’s russet-brown wolf following close behind. One by one each wolf emerges, a few snarling and huffing as they do. Soon enough the entire pack is in front of the Cullen’s minus yourself who lingers in the trees for a moment, a bit hesitant at meeting vampires for the first time. When Sam’s voice echoes in your mind telling you to come forward, reassuring there’s nothing to be afraid of- despite you not being scared- you finally come out from the dark shadows of the trees. Your once pitch black fur shifts more into a dark shade of red the second you step out into the sunlight.

You keep your head ducked as you slowly make your way to stand next to Jacob. He leans over, nudging you with his body in reassurance. With a deep inhale you finally look up, taking in the sight of the Cullen family- the first vampires you’ve ever seen. Your gaze flicks from face to face, committing each one to memory. The blond male with chiseled cheeks and a polite smile, who stand with his arm draped around the back of a dark haired woman. Then there’s a very buff male standing with a blonde haired woman whose jaw looks to be clenched in anger. Then there’s the one standing with the human, which makes you assume he’s Edward. You’re promptly proven correct when he nods towards you. After them is a girl with short spiky hair. And then finally….

Oh.

Oh no.

The second you look at the final Cullen heat floods throughout your body, a burning desire to be near him practically tearing your breath away. The reactions from the pack is instantaneous as various different voices flood through your mind. Jacob is questioning if you just imprinted, Quil and Embry are in disbelief your imprint is a leech, Sam is warning the others to behave, but the loudest voice is Paul’s. You can practically feel the rage radiating from him as his voice echoes in your mind, basically threatening to tear your imprint apart. The threat makes you turn to face him, a warning growl leaving you involuntarily as you instinctively prepare to protect your imprint.

“What’s happening?” Carlisle questions, watching with interest and concern as your wolf snarls at one of the others. One minute everything was fine, the next there appears to be a fight on the verge of breaking out.

Edward nods towards you, his lips twitching a bit as he fights back a smile. “She imprinted on Jasper. The other one is threatening to tear him apart because of it.”

Despite the tension rising, Jasper finds his gaze to be solely focused on you. He can feel your emotions radiating strongly both from you but also from the bond connecting you two. He can feel your confusion, your anger… but the strongest of all is your desire. The desire to be close to him, to protect him. To simply be his. It’s intense, and if Jasper needed to breathe he’s almost certain your emotions would’ve stolen his breath away.

‘That’s enough!’ Sam’s voice rips through the packs minds with a growl as his wolf stands taller, towering over Paul. ‘We can deal with this at a later time. Right now we need to focus on training for the battle.’

Paul reluctantly backs down, unable to go against the pack alpha. Seeing him back off, your wolf finally relaxes from its tense state. You turn and face the Cullen’s once again, though this time your focus stays glued to your imprint who begins the lesson since he has the most experience against newborns.

You can only hope that everything goes well.

#reader insert #x reader #twilight saga #twilight x reader #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #twilight #slasherslittlesimp

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200mark · 3 days ago

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⌗ stress free zone .. na jaemin

SCENE .. in which jaemin builds a pillow fort and declare it an official "no stress" zone.

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!jaemin & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 005. established relationship, scenario, fluff && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ wc .. {1454} 𓂃🖊

♡ entry .. got inspired cause me and siblings made a pillow fort the other night just cause lol, i hope you all enjoy this! i appreciate all the support and sorry for the inconsistency!! 🤍 (also it was like 4:53am when i wrote this, please excuse any errors!)

more of nct dream

between the stress of school and your part-time job you have little to no time to your, and the time you do get to yourself you wanna spend it in the bed laying down or doing a few chores around the house. jaemin took notice in this as a boyfriend would and decided to make the best of the time you have before your finals.

you’re currently sitting in bed with your laptop on your lap with your notebook next to you occasionally picking up the notebook writing things down, jaemin walks into your shared bedroom and sighs at the sight of you being so deep into your studies not an annoyed sigh but more of a “you were in this same spot 15 mins ago” kind of sigh.

“still at it, hm?” his tone wasn’t sarcastic but he didn’t ask, asking for a response more so because he already knew the answer. you nodded in return not wanting to take your focus away from the screen in front of you “just a few more pages and then i’m all done” you grabbed your notebook writing more things down and he just looked at you before smiling and nodding.

he had been sitting in the living room while you were studying hoping you’d call his name or just strot out the bedroom and right onto his lap but you didn’t, that’s when he decided to join you back in the room.

“jaem not right now, i have just a few more pages and i’ll be done.” you only said this cause he had made his way to your side of the bed kissing your neck and gently massaging your shoulders and you were tense. as much as you needed that and appreciated it you needed to focus, “these finals aren’t going to take themselves,” you said “they could,” he added and you gave a small laugh.

he eventually got the hint and decided to leave you alone again before leaving the room. he snatched a pillow off the bed with a pout like he was mad, he wasn’t which caused you to look at him for a few seconds and then laugh a little. “just give me 15 minutes!!” he playfully rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.

jaemin plopped down on the couch sitting on the remote in the process, “ouch” he said “okay that didn’t hurt,” he added he groaned before pulling the remote from underneath him and flicking through the channels after finding something he was content with looking at he sat the remote on the coffee table.

“i never realized how UNCOMFORTABLE this COUCH WAS until NOW after HOURS of sitting on in.” he said shouting certain words in hopes you’d hear him and i don’t know maybe close your laptop.

he threw the pillow he brought from the bedroom onto the floor and propped his legs up on the couch while his upper body rested onto the floor, his back and head laying on the pillow. he stayed like this for a few minutes before getting a crazy idea.

he looked over a the dining room chair, the throw blanket on the couch and it’s like a light bulb switched on like something just clicked, “jaemin… i know what we’re going to do today.” he mumbled to himself, yeah he was watching phineas and ferb and suddenly said that, “maybe let’s not say that again?” he mumbled to himself yet again, “i think i should stop talking to myself now.”

he got up from the floor and started to put his plan into action, he wanted to be as loud and as quiet as possible. he knows whenever you attempt to be quiet is when you tend to be more loud so he hopes that's the case this time. he moves the chairs from the kitchen into the living room positioning them to his liking, “do i add the pillow first or the blankets?” he thought to himself standing there running his hand through his hair looking at the chairs.

“let me move the coffee table first,” he took the few things that were on the coffee table off before picking it up and flipping it over onto the couch. “okay, maybe adding the pillows will make it easier when adding the blankets?” he questioned himself, “why is this so complicated? this was easier when i was a kid.” and wirth that he moved the chairs more into the center of the living room now that he has more space upon moving the coffee table.

“this looks a lot better, in my humble opinion of course,” he laughs at his own joke before clearing his throat in a ‘you’re talking to yourself again’ way. he continued to set up the pillow fort occasionally bumping into things purposely so that you could hear him but not so much that you would come out the room.

he went to the kitchen grabbing a water bottle chugging it before sitting it on top of the counter and looking over at the pillow fort before smiling and nodding to himself, “it’s missing something” he said looking at the fort then around the living room, then he spots it those fairy lights you bought to hang behind the tv but never had the time.

“you thinking what i’m thinking?” the tv says and it’s likr the stole the words right out of his mouth, he makes his way back into the living room carefully gliding through the area where the fort is built so he doesn’t knock over but one of the sheets he used fell off causing the whole roof of the fort to fall.

“dammit” he said, tossing the box of the lights onto the couch before attempting to fix the roof of the fort that took him several minutes to build. after about five minutes he got it back to his liking and now was time to add the lights. he plugged the lights into the wall and smiled as they lit up, “how should i do this?” he looked down at the lights then back up to the fort before just tossing the light over it and gently adjusting them in places that needed adjustments.

he went to the kitchen and wanted to grab a few snacks but the snack cabinet was empty so being the lovely and caring boyfriend he is he decided to make a quick store run before he told you about the fort.

you’re still in the bed studying you heard the bumps and thumping but you just put your headphones in and tuned out jaemin you summed it up as him wanting your attention which wasn’t far from the truth.

then suddenly your phone gets a notification and it’s from jaemin, “come to the living room please” he texted but he was still typing, “and leave the laptop” you laughed at his messages then got out of bed stretching a bit before making your way into the living room.

“baby what is this?” you laugh looking at him in the fort with a fake rose in his mouth, “surprised?” “yes!” you continued laughing. “cute, but what’s with the rose?” you cross your arms raising an eyebrow and he crawled from under the fort standing up slightly towering over your, “i wanted to add a bit of sexiness.”

you smile lovingly at him shaking your head, “what’s all this for? and you went out and bought snacks? look at you!” you tease him and you can tell he’s embarrassed not in like an embarrassing way but like in a ‘stooooppp’ way.

he took your hands into his “it’s for you—us you’ve been working and studying non-stop so i wanted us, as boyfriend and girlfriend to enjoy some time together and not as roommates.” you smile at his words wrapping your arms around his neck, “ew, you’re cheesy at times but i love it and i love you.” “i love you more,” he said placing a quick kiss onto your lips before you pulled him back for another one.

“hey but when you enter our there will be NO talk about work, school and even about that time i didn’t take out the trash.” he said easing into the tent, you gently smack his bottom “jaemin shut up,” you laugh and so does he.

and you two enjoyed eachothers company with that being pillow talk and a few other things before eventually falling asleep.

“jaem you’re going to put my living room back together in the morning right?” “maybe not in the morning but yes i will eventually.” you both laugh and you snuggle against his chest listening closely to his heartbeat and steady breathing.

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siddyyyyyyyy · 21 hours ago

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New Side

Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

MDNI

wc: 3.1 K warnings: 18+, established relationship, thigh riding, p in v, creampie, tits play, possessive!Bruce, overstimulation (?), hairpulling, cnc (?), praise, sweet aftercare, no y/n used, petnames such as "sweetheart" summary: After being hesitant about your suggestion, he finally gives in and tries a different way to release his pent up frustration. a/n: This is a little different from what I usually write and I am deeply ashamed of it, I honestly think I will never post this so,,,, have fun! if you don't like it, please scroll, idk if this is cringe or not,,,,, Also, sorry for only posting smut drabbles about Bruce, but I am also writing a series about him with way less smut → ˗ˏˋhereˎˊ˗

Usually, Bruce doesn‘t let his frustration and annoyance show that easily around you, preferring to keep it to himself, and later on punch the life out of a poor punching bag. But tonight, there was no punching bag avaible, being stuck in a hotel room for the night until you can both fly back to the Manor. Luckily, the gala hadn‘t brought as much difficulties, it was the planning and organising that gave him a constant headache. Bruce couldn‘t allow to get dissatisfied reporters, who complain about his slight change of tone during the thousands of questions they tend to ask. It felt especially difficult last evening, which resulted in him growing quiet on the way back to the hotel room, an upcoming headache threating to attack him soon enough.

Of course, you notice every little twitch and light exhale of irritation, trying to think of something to make him feel better afterwards. Not wanting to add onto his weariness, you go about your usual night routine before settling into bed beside him. Bruce lays back against the bed frame, having his tablet in hands to check up on the news and possible new cases waiting for him. As you take him in, you scoot closer to his side under the blanket, shoulder pressing into his. Without second thought, his arm wrap over you shoulders, pulling you into his side.

»You know, about that idea I once proposed… now‘s the perfect time.« You muse gently, your lips lightly trailing against his bare shoulder, eyes focused on his side profile. He gives a short grunt back, unsure if he acknowledged your words or not. After a brief silence, he speaks up too, eyes not straying from his display.

»I remember.«

He muses back and lets out a quiet sigh, relaxing his muscles a fraction under your light touch.

»So? You don‘t wanna try?« Another silence stretches between the you both, the only sound being the light pecks you leave across his shoulder at your side. After what feels like an eternity for you, he speaks up, his voice measured and eyes carrying a hint of curiosity.

»I don‘t want to hurt you. Besides, I can just wait until we get back, I don‘t have a punching bag for nothing.«

Right. He is hesitant again — not because he doesn‘t want to try something new — but because he can‘t, and won‘t, allow himself to hurt you during a pleasureable time. But with that look you give him, the way you bat your eyelashes at him oh, so sweetly, lips tracing gentle paths against his shoulder —

No. Surely, not.

»Please? I wanna try. I really do.«

Yes. A hundred percent, whatever you ask him to.

»Are you sure you wanna try that? I tend to get… intense when I am tired out.« He prods again, not entirely convinced of it yet and wants to be as sure as he can be before possibly agreeing.

»Very sure. Besides, we haven‘t had some action for quite a while.«

You answer back and lift your head off of his shoulder, face being at level with his own. The sheets rustle over you as Bruce finally lays his tablet away and shifts to face you better.

»Okay… but we‘ll start slow. And I want a safe word between us.«

The fact that he considers it all and starts to get more engaged in the discussion feels like a little success. But thinking of a safe word gets a little difficult at first, having to try to find a word that you usually don‘t say when he is balls deep inside you.

»Pineapple? Or just apple? It‘s shorter.«

Bruce nods after a small consideration, seeming satsified with the suggestion. »Apple it is.«

Oh god. Did he just agree? Are you going to— okay… this is totally fine, he isn‘t being absolutely hot for no reason at all. His hand brushes along your upper arm, eyes raking subtly over your form before settling back on your face; taking in the soft light glowing over you face.

Without any further words, you take the first initiative and settle yourself over his lap, straddling one of his thighs. A small sigh leaves him, relaxing his body and settling his hands on your hips.

»Comfy?« His voice husky and quiet, eyes settling on the way your panties shine under your big shirt. You feel his warm palms rake higher up your hips, tugging the material of your shirt up. He sees your light nod to his question, feeling the faint warmth of your core against his bare thigh.

The air around you both grows more intimate again, the only source of light being the warm lamp above the bed, and the soft glow from the LED lights around the ceiling of hotel room.

With a soft hitch of your breath, a familiar shiver runs down your spine once your hips start grinding against his thigh. Using his chest to lean your hands on, breaths growing heavier. Bruce encourages you, hands controlling your movements to make sure you get proper friction.

»That‘s it...« He murmurs softly, eyes locked on the way your lacy panties rub against his bare thigh, as he is clad in boxers. In this moment, he realises he could watch this scene for hours, if not days straight. The way your hips fit so perfectly into his hands, how easily you give yourself to him without second thought… his eyes are already hazy, the only thing on his mind is your pretty cunt.

The grinding starts to grow easier with how slick you are, the wetness soaking through the thin material and right against his rough skin. »Look at you...« his words reach your ears, your core clenching at his rough voice, »you are a mess, and it‘s all because of me, hm?«

You shiver as his thumb traces over your wetness, gently rubbing against you. The added friction causes your eyes to close tightly, trying to restrain a small whimper. His eyes stay glued on you, clearly devouring every little sound and reaction you give.

It is only a matter of time until he loses his patience and decides you are worked up enough, the way your slick covers his thigh is enough to make him groan. Your hips stutter and pause, too focused on the way his fingers rub you just right, the tight circles against your core make your heart race. Bruce sees it as a sign to take charge again, swiftly moving you to lay on your back, his broad form hovering over you. The loss of his warm hand leaves you frowning up at him, his own mind growing frenzied with the way you stare up at him.

»Be good for me, sweetheart...«

The words roll off his tongue easily, making your body relax again and be patient. Your eyes drink in the way his muscles flex under his movements, landing on his throbbing and slick cock. The pair of boxers get discarded to the floor and he focuses his attention back to you. Finally, able to get relief, Bruce wastes no time to lean down on you, his lips finding your nipple and sucking on it shamelessly.

Your back arches off the bed with a soft gasp, not a moment later, his hands strip the panties off of you and settles between your legs. The needy suckle and nibbles on your perky breasts makes you want to shy away, but his hands hold you down, set firmly on your waist. A low growl leaves him, his lips travelling to the other breast, »Be still… wanna feel you.« One hand leaves your waist, instead kneading at your chest, thumb circling around your nipple.

The room spins around you and you are only able to focus on the gentle sucks and kneading of your breasts, trying to stay as still as possible for him. Your breathing gets heavier, chest burning with desire and arousal. Bruce doesn‘t let up, pressing his sensitive tip against your entrance and exhales heavily against you.

A soft grunt leaves him once he pushes in, able to get a smooth entry without needing much adjustment. Your slick is enough to make him fit perfectly, not needing any more prep than that.

»Taking me so well, aren‘t ya?« He mutters out as he leans back, settling deeper into you. His cock stretches you out so well, fitting and pressing into you in all the right places. Your fingers dig into the sheets underneath you, holding in your breath to hold back any screams. His burning gaze stays focused on your face, waiting for you to adjust and be ready before he can shut his mind off and take responsibility later.

The first thrust takes your breath away again, a sharp exhale leaving you. His eyes lock on yours as he slowly starts up, building a gentle pace at first. The only thing he can focus on is how snug you are, the way your eyes can‘t even focus on him properly — that‘s when his control slips for the first time. His hips snap harder against you, hitting you deeper with less gentleness behind his actions.

You feel the deep strokes up your spine, your jaw going slack as your mind goes blank. The pace is a delicious mix between rough and steady, big hands holding your hips down in a vice grip. Soft grunts leave him as he feels your cunt clench tightly around him, his brow pinching in pleasure and focus. A sharp gasp leaves you once he angles his hips again, able to hit your sweet spot over and over again. Warmth spreads over your lower stomach, down to your thighs, making you melt back into the mattress. After a few deep thrusts, your thighs tremble at his sides and he knows you are close.

»C‘mon, sweetie… doin‘ so good, jus‘ a little longer,« He breathes out between thrusts, angling one of your legs up to reach deeper. Despite wanting to hold out longer for him, you release and orgasm before him. Soft moans and whimpers fill his ears as he watches you come undone for him, watching your chest heave as he slowly eases out of you, hands rubbing along your sides.

Your mind is still reeling, spinning and unable to calm down even after he pulled out. You clench and squeeze around nothing, eyes trying to open and find him again. Meanwhile, Bruce watches the way the white cream slowly eases out, the sight enough to make him cum on the spot. He manages to reel himself back in and wait until you seem ready for more.

Your breath comes back and you feel reliefed, but a small spark forms in your abdomen once you see how he looks at you. Seated back on his knees, keeping a hand wrapped around his length to keep himself hard.

»Ready for more?« He shifts and keeps his eyes trained on you, waiting for your answer before continuing. But the only thing you can manage to do is nod, staying still on the bed.

»Use your words. I wanna be sure.« His small command makes your brain clear up, finally speaking up, albeit still hazy.

»I want more,« »Yeah, you want more, don‘t you? Want me.«

A new warmth spreads through your abdomen, able to feel your legs tingle in anticipation again. His hands guide you to roll onto your stomach, one arm snaking around your shoulders to keep you leaned up. Another shiver runs through your spine as you feel his hard length press against your backside, feeling the light slickness of it from earlier.

The side of your neck gets covered in soft kisses, travelling from your neck to your shoulder. A low grunt escapes him as he lines up and pushes in without further warning, not even waiting for you to get used to him before he starts moving in a slow pace. The stretch feels like it is ripping you apart by your seams, a burning pleasure creeping all over your body. It‘s difficult to keep in your sounds in when he is dragging himself in and out of you so slowly but deliciously, panting heavily under him.

Bruce feels you growing weaker under him and gives him a push, laying you back on the mattress and instead grabs a fist full of your hair to keep your head up. His pace quickens, getting harder and rougher like before. Due to the position, it feels like his cock is rearranging your insides without a care in the world, leaving you pinned underneath him.

There is nothing you can do but take, take, and take, unable to squirm away or even yell for his name. The wind keeps getting knocked from your lungs with every new thrust, small helpless whimpers leaving your lips.

»Jus‘ like that… takin‘ me so well,« His gravelly voice sounds from behind, tightening his grip on your hair before letting go and instead pushing his index finger into your mouth. »Suck.«

A light whine leaves you before taking his digit between your lips, starting to suck and have some sort of distraction from his careless pace. He feels the way your tongue swirls around his finger, his other hand keeping a strong grip on your hip. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, muffled moans coming from your side. Heavy pants leave the both of you, quickly making your head spin again as you suck harder on his finger.

You grow closer to the edge, gasping at the familiar but intense sensation. Bruce notices but won‘t let up, instead speeds up and forces himself harder into you. A small squeal leaves you and try to squirm, but his weight presses into you a little more, keeping you trapped under him.

It feels like your stomach gets ripped apart as you topple over the edge, eyes squeezing shut, body trembling under him as needy whimpers leave you.

»My girl, c‘mon— take it.« He pants out over you, locking his arm around your shoulders again to keep you from squirming away while he hammers into you. He is not nearly done with you, still needing to release.

Your breath catches before you grow quiet under him, jaw going slack as you start to feel overwhelmed. He never just kept going after one of you had orgasmed, and it seems like he finally got the idea of it. Mentally, you are praising him for just continuing, finally putting himself first and chasing his release.

His hips continue to snap into you with a relentless pace, soft pants brushing against your ear from behind. Light growls and grunts leave him while he keeps going, a light sweat forming over his brow.

»Take it, just a bit more— « You hear him barely grunt out, leaning back up and pushing a hand on your middle back to push you down into the mattress.

»‘s too much,« You try to warn him, feeling yourself edging closer to your limit, but it seems like he won‘t let up soon enough.

»I know, sweetheart, just— a bit more for me.« His hips pause briefly before he picks his pace up again, making you groan and shiver under him. You clench hard around him, unable to do anything but to lay there and take him, feeling like he is ripping and shredding you apart.

»Please, stop—«

He doesn‘t listen, instead keeps hold of your hips again and speeds his pace again. You groan, grabbing onto the sheets to try and have some support.

»Take it. I know you can.« Finally, his hips seem to stutter as he grows close to the edge, burrying his head to the crook of your neck. Only a few more thrusts and you feel his hot cum spurt into you, filling you up to the brim. His hips finally still and he groans out in satisfaction, trying to catch his breath. A low whine leaves form your side, legs trembling under him.

His head swims in the haze of the sweet pleasure, being still burried deep inside as he comes down from it. You are about to shift in silent request for him to lay off of you, but he already leans off your body and carefully eases out of you. Another bigger amount of cum oozes out of you, watching as your sensitive cunt clenches around nothing and slowly gets covered in the white mess. Once he finally snaps back and doesn‘t focus on the sight, his hand rubs gently along your spine.

»You okay? I‘ll clean you up in no time, hm?« His voice is way softer than before, genuine worry and gentleness shining through. You notice him getting off the bed and retreat into the bathroom for a moment, closing your eyes and trying not to doze off while waiting for him.

Soon enough, he is back by your side and gently makes you lay on your back again, laying a water bottle and a bottle of lotion you usually use, beside him. His hands gently start to clean up the sticky and hot mess between your legs with a damp towel, making sure to keep his touch as light as possible.

»Feel okay?« He checks in again, eyes going over your features as he lets go from you.

You give him a nod back, too tired to speak up, or let along move. Bruce understands, a faint smile gracing his lips as he goes away to get rid of the towel, before sitting back on the bed beside you. He takes the bottle of lotion and takes a little into his hands to rub it along your thighs and legs. Your muscles relax more, making you sigh softly and grow pliant. The gentle massage makes you feel like in you are heaven, getting to be treated so gently in contrast to the previous moments. A while goes by until you can finally lean back against the headboard, getting to drink a few sips of water until you feel yourself getting more tired. Bruce, ever the observant, notices your fatigue, but also feels his own eyes starting to grow heavier.

He shifts you around to spoon you from behind, tucking you both in as tightly into the blankets as possible before his nose nestles into the side of your neck. With a deep exhale, his own form relaxes into you.

Your heartbeat steadies, breaths becoming even and light as you fall into a restful sleep. He manages to stay awake and listen to your calm breaths, and steady heartbeat under his palm, until he also drifts off; falling into a deep sleep.

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @aceoffates

#dc comics #x reader #drabble #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #fem!reader #batman #smut drabble #dc smut #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #batfam #masterlist #one shot #dc x reader #dc universe #batman x reader

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trans-emet-selch · 9 hours ago

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I have always found it interesting that the WoL refers to Emet-Selch as not Emet-Selch but as Hades.

Sure, the journal entry is named Emet-Selch. But the first thing written there is that his true name was Hades. You also see this when you describe him to the Minstrel for his extreme trial.

Additionally, the description of the trial alludes to this as well. As when we talk about those we have faced in the First. We talk and refer to him as Hades. Which is also written similarly to the journal. Both of which were described/written by the WoL.

"Hearken unto a requiem for a hero fallen. A man who lived a thousand thousand of our lives clinging desperately to faint hope, never shirking his sworn duty to his long-lost brethren. A man who stood proud and did avow his true name on the threshold of the battle that would see him fall to his rival—the light to quench his shadow. Borrowing liberally from the funereal rites of the Night's Blessed, the minstreling wanderer weaves an elegy in that hero's honor—the tragic-yet-triumphant tale of a man and a battle that ne'er shall be forgotten."

You can also see this in the quest dialogue and while we cannot know the exact words the WoL used (as it is your own intrepretation of it) it is still clear that the WoL didn't refer to Emet-Selch as Emet-Selch they call him Hades.

For the WoL, this is about honoring the man who held steadfast to his ideas. Who fought for his loved ones just as much as the WoL does. Not the Ascian Emet-Selch. To honor and remember Hades as he once lived.

There is however, the matter brought up by the Minstrel: Why did Emet-Selch reveal his name to the Wol?

We do have a simple meta reason why: Hades is a recurring Summon across the Final Fantasy games. Using the name Hades is just natural to do so.

However, let's look at this from an in-lore perspective as well. For which we can look to what he says and speculate.

In the quest, Return to Eulmore, before leaving to Wright you can question Emet-Selch over the information he gives in the cutscene before. Revealing to us that Emet-Selch, along with the rest of the ascians encountered, is merely a title inherited. Their true names are hidden to take up the name and position of their seat.

You can, upon hearing this, ask him for his true name:

His reply to this is rather interesting:

There are a couple of things to note from his response. Firstly, he doesn't outright dismiss telling you his name, only says that eventually he'll reveal it. Of course, this hinges upon you living through your trials in putting down the Lightwardens and containing the light within, or simply dying from other matters.

But this would be disappointing for him. This dialogue ties into what he proposes to you later in The View From Above. To stand with him as allies. He doesn't propose this to the rest of the Scions, just the WoL. He dangles these threads because he wants them to reach back as Azem would. The WoL dying would be disappointing, and he would have to begin his search anew for Azem's soul.

We don't know if Emet-Selch has encountered Azem's shards before the WoL. Maybe he had or maybe he didn't. But it wouldn't change the fact that the WoL's death would have him searching again.

Even as he hurls insults upon the WoL for once more disappointing him, that is still Azem's soul in there. After all, his invitation to seek him out in the Tempest allows you to die with dignity. Everything he ever does is not let himself be alone and reach out to an old friend.

He wants someone else to remember it all. Who is more worthy of remembering it all than Azem?

Emet-Selch is a man of many masks. It is true, and his emotions are ever cloaked, but there are ever glimpses of them throughout Shadowbringers. Especially if it's Azem's soul prodding at him to reveal the layers underneath.

So in his final confrontation, when either the WoL dies or he, wouldn't it not be disappointing to leave the question of who the man underneath is all truly is? Perhaps even this even the last-ditch attempt to have the bearer of Azem's soul remember before either of you dies.

Emet-Selch yearns for his old friend to come back to him and remember. Just as much as he wishes shoulder the burden of remembering all of those that lived before. The WoL bears that last wish and remembers the man who fought for it all underneath as Hades. A man who once lived.

#ffxiv #emet selch #emet-selch #ffxiv emet selch #my posts #this man can fit so much yearning in him #'he was the shadow to your light' still makes me unwell #emet selch is a reflection of the wol #it what makes him such a compelling antagonist #he did terrible terrible things #but even as the scions say 'but would I have done any differently?'#because what makes these antagonists compelling is that we are all capable of doing terrible things for the best reasons #even hope and love can make us a tragedy #I didn't mean to make this a whole 600+ words ramble about this #I originally intended to just point this out #but no I need to chew on him #emet selch the man that you are

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echantedtoon · 2 days ago

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The Way The Cookie Crumbles

When dreams dance and fantasies swirl, the shadows prance and hallucinations whirl. Tis not but a dream, not what it seems. But to be fair, you should beware. For not everything in the dream is a fake scheme.

(Or a Yandere Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader Oneshot based on my Dream Demon S.M.C Au. And no he's not a cookie in this au, I based what his demon design looks like as the pic I used as the Coverart/linked. Found on Pinterest. I used some of his voice lines. Warnings for demon summoning(??), yandere themes, and blood mentioned.

The song used is Circus Monster (English Cover) by Jubyphonic. He might be ooc in this cuz it's my first time writing for him.

m.youtube.com/watch?v=aQgXq42nD8I&pp=ygUcY2lyY3VzIG1vbnN0ZXIgZW5nbGlzaCBjb3Zlcg== )

Would you take a deal with the devil?

The foggy memories and distant dreams are one of the few things you've experienced since taking part in that strange bet. It wasn't supposed to be a real thing. Just a silly game to be had at a sleepover with the girlfriends. Someone had brought up the typical game traditional for the event. A ouija board but that would not suffice.

"That old thing again? It never works when we use it anyways so what's the point?"

"You got any better ideas?"

"Let's try summoning something like in the movies!"

"Seriously?"

"Oh c'mon. It's all fake anyways. It'll be a fun. I know this urban legend we can try out!"

You all were uneasy, but didn't believe in anything like this. After all things like ghosts and goblins only existed in movies and fairy tales, plus it might've even been fun! So you all went along with it. As the urban legend goes if you take a black glass and fill it with milk, place a single drop of blood, then leave it in the darkest corner of the house, and then say an incantation, the Shadow Milk Man will appear. Sorta like Bloody Mary but only more ridiculous sounding. Drawing straws it was you who had the short end and so you were the one who had to prick their finger and offer a drop of blood into your friend's black mug which she then stuck in the closet. Then you all stood back holding back giggles at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Shadow, shadow will arise, new moon hides from eyes. Shadow shadow will arise, new moon hies from eyes," your friend dramatically changed at the door as you all giggled. "Deep dreamscapes veer and steer away, for the darkness of minds comes to play. Unholy follies are to pay. We call the one whom creeps in dark, for our words he must harm. Come forth to accept the offer for the one you seek is the one who's blood has been leaked."

The giggling persisted as you all waited for something to happen. And waited. And waited long enough for enough to not find this entertaining anymore. Your chanting friend pressed their ear to the door listening before opening the door and finding the still full mug of milk sat there untouched.

"Told you it wouldn't work. Oh well. It was good for a laugh."

"Maybe we have to wait longer?"

"Are you seriously going to just leave that sitting in your closet all night?", you asked raising a brow.

With a shrug your friend just closed the door and turned back around. "Eh. I'll dump it out in the morning."

"Now I know you're crazy. *Sigh* Whatever. It's your closet you're stinking up. Can I have a bandaid for my finger now?"

"Sure. Give me a second. They're in the kitchen."

In the darkness of the closet, unseen from prying eyes, and behind the darkened door shadows moved. Eyes opened wide between hung clothes and random knickknacks. And a razor sharp smile widened. Claws ensnared around cold porcelain and lips wrapped themselves up around the rim. The sound of a satisfied sigh, and then the sinister chuckling of evil.

When morning came and the door was opened, and the empty mug was there to everyone's surprise. No one would confess to dumping out the milk. You knew one of them must've done it to mess with everyone else but no one would fess up. Whatever. You dropped it and moved on with your life.

However that's when the dreams started to happen soon after. Usually you'd fall into a dreamless slumber only to wake up groggily the next morning, but lately you'd have very strange dreams. Dreams of being floating in a black abyss with multiple blue eyes staring at you in the endless void. Sometimes it was nothing in the darkness but loud giggles and invisible arms reaching out to grab your arms or touch your cheek but as soon as you awoke, there'd be nothing there. You brushed it off as stress from work and reading one too many horror novels, but oh how you were wrong. So, so wrong.

Because tonight was the night shadows danced in the dreamscapes of memories and emotions, of hearts and souls, fear and delight.

For when your eyes closed that night you felt your world shift until you were standing upright and walking through a dark abyss. It felt so real, so solid. Your arms extended out in front of you to feel around in the dark for anything solid you might bump into. Until in the darkness a light appeared, far away at first but soon rapidly approaching. FAST. What was akin to a giant bright flashlight being shined in your eyes. Instinctually your arms covered your face for impact, and suddenly everything was bright. When you next opened your eyes-

You squealed out jumping back as a face was in front of you. YOUR face. Everywhere you turned to a throw, there was nothing but endless copies of your faces everywhere you looked. On the ceiling, beneath your feet, behind you- It took you a long moment to figure out that you were in fact surrounded by mirrors. Slowly a hand extended to touch the cold, smooth surface of the nearest wall flinching at how realistically cold it felt.

"This is the weirdest dream yet," you mumbled under your breath looking around.

There seemed to be a hallway in front of you, so with a dead end behind you, you started walking forward following the hallway of mirrors with an awestruck on your face. The hallway of mirrors never seemed to end, only going onwards and onwards, until unexpectedly you finally hit a corner. Turning the corner slowly you came to another strange sight.

It was a door.

A very...strange door. It was all blue minus the gold accents on the corners, the shiny golfed knob, and strangest of all a happy face comedy mask in the middle. Like the kind you'd find in theaters or plays.

"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder doesn't it?"

Well you still couldn't go back until you eventually woke up again, so you might as well continue onwards until you couldn't go anymore or until you woke up. Slowly approaching the door you reached out a hand to slowly grab the doorknob, finding it as cold as the mirrors, with a twist it opened wide open and you were surprised to see how dark it was on the other side...Whelp. There wasn't anything to lose. Walking forward inside, the door slowly closed behind you leaving you in darkness once more. You could barely see three yards in front of you as you continued to walk. The cold reflective floor gone now replaced by what felt like wood under your feet. You couldn't see anything no matter how much you squinted in the dark. Barely being able to see-

Until something brushed up against your face!

"AH?!"

You jumped back swatting at the long tendril as it swayed back and forth from you hitting it. You panted as it harmlessly hung there... before you blinked.

"A rope?"

A brown rope dangled from the dark above. Your eyesight could make out the top but you saw other roles dangling from the ceiling too. A quick sweep of the floor had you noticing sand bags and to your far right was a massive wall of felt also dangling from the ceiling. A...curtain?

"Oh please don't tell me I'm having a nightmare about my fourth grade Christmas pageant," you mumbled in dread, "I hated being dressed up as the Hallmart knock off gingerbread man."

Curiously you approached the heavy curtain, knelt down reaching out to pull up the bottom and rose your brows when light flooded out. An exit maybe? Nothing ventured nothing gained you guess. The curtain was surprisingly thick and heavy, and you struggled to lift it up enough to duck under it coming out of the other side. Only to find even another surprise.

"Ok. Now this is getting ridiculous!"

Before you was more tented walls lit up by some unknown light source. The thick curtains making up the walls were various blues or white in color, all having glittery gold accents along the bottom train and studded with various cresent moon and star imagery. Before you there was two ways, left and right. It was like a maze at this point! A dark void, hallway of mirrors, and then this giant tent thing...No. Not a maze.

A fun house. A citrus.

"What the heck did I read to give me this random dream?"

Debating a second you eventually turned left and made it two steps before something made you stop. It was...music. Pausing, you blinked before slowly looking behind you down the hallway of tents as it came from that direction. A loud blast of music echoed out that sounded like...a saxophone and violin??

"Time is dead and gone.~ Show must go on.~ It's time for our our act.~ They all scream at me.~ They cannot see this curtain hides me.~ An amazing gift.~ So quick and swift.~ You are amazing.~"

A melodist voice wafted over you from behind that sentence chills down your spine and goosebumps on your skin. Fear injected your veins like a virus as you stood frozen amongst the noises.

"By myself I can't.~ They start to chant.~ Why are you not here?~ Grinning at me.~ I lay at my knees.~ They want to hear me.~ Why can they not see?~"

You've..never heard that voice before. It was clearly male but it was..off somehow. A feeling that made your guts churn with unease. But you still walked towards the symphony of music and singing to get to the bottom of this.

"I swear if this stupid dreams ends with there being a creepy clown in here, I am never celebrating Halloween again."

"I want to see you.~ I have to see you.~ I need to see you.~ What happened to you?~ We go up on stage.~ They jump to enrage.~ Why are you not here?~Why is he so near?~ He wants me to sing.~ I just cannot bring. I say he's not you.~ What else can I do?~"

You quickly sped walked down the hallway that again split off in two directions. Your head turning both directions as the music sounded like it was coming from both directions. Eventually you went right again increasing your speed walk to a light jog.

"Singing it's silent of misery.~ A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~"

You quickly picked up your pace before turning left on a whim, finding more and more curtains and hallways no matter which way you turned.

"Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~ I lay all alone. I should've known you would've left me.~ He smiles at me.~ I cannot see why he's in your place.~ They can't tell me why you said goodbye right before our act.~ Those two lions were always fun.~ Why did they leave too?~"

The endless maze laughed at your frantic almost panicked form now full on running through these halls after some ghost. Were you chasing it or were you running away at this point?!

"Roaring at me.~ I lay on my knees. What is happening?~ I can hear you sing.~ They will not obey.~ They've been lead astray.~ Will I still see you?~ I have to see you.~ I panic and flee.~ They both pounce on me.~ I fell to ground.~ I fell to the ground.~"

You turned again and skidded to a stop. Mouth open and panting as you froze as you were in the center of a small room and there was a least six different pathways leading off into different directions from you and all looked exactly the same. Now what?!

"I look up to see you're not here with me.~ Am I all alone?~ Where could you have gone?~ Singing it's silent of misery.~ A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~ Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~"

THERE!! The one in the very center! You quickly chased after the musical number as it started to slow down the rhythm and fade away.

"Singing it's silent of misery.~ A monster lies trapped in its own nightmare.~ He is a tyrant.~ He let's out a plea.~ Why did she have to leave it all alone?~ Bound to sing for us.~ A worthless monster.~ It never sees us ~ It despises us.~ Lying so useless we start to holler.~ Hey get up you worthless circus monster.~"

You ran and ran until you made one last turn and ran to what looked like a part in the curtains. Things slowly came to a full stop as soon as you ran through the open and you stopped. Panting and having for air while looking around the room you happened to find yourself in. It was a room as big as about three bedrooms with floor black and glittery beneath your feet. The curtains surrounding you were all a dark blue and there wasn't any parts or hallways leading anywhere...in fact the doorway you stepped through was magically gone as well leaving you trapped within.

"Am I having a stroke in my sleep or something?!"

"Maybe not a stroke but definitely tripping over yourself. Maybe it was something you ate."

You jumped whirling around wide eyed at the sounds of the male voice, but found no one around the room but the curtains. "Who's there?!"

"Whaaaat? You don't recognize the sounds of my scrumptious voice?~"

The voice sounded like it was coming from no where and everywhere at once so it was hard to pinpoint where exactly you should look. "You don't sound like anyone my brain would conjure up." Didn't sound familiar at all.

A small silence followed as you continued to look around the strange room.

"You spent so much time here right under my gaze for so long, and yet you have no idea who I am? I am hurt I must say."

"I don't even know where I am right now." Other than inside your own head in a dream. "Who are you anyways?" A figment of your imagination obviously not sure why you were asking. But who knows where this was going?

"Ugh. That question again? Booooring! I get asked that so many times I might as well ask myself it whenever I meet someone at this point," the echoing man's voice responded.

"Wow. I didn't know my inner voice could be so sarcastic to me." That got a loud chuckle from the voice as you just stared up at the dark ceiling and crossed your arms. Well you were getting no where so maybe a more intuitive question. "Ok. Then can I talk to you face to face? Dream or not, it's rude not to be able to see whoever you're talking to."

"Finally! A question for me! And it only took five minutes of meeting you! What a record!"

Your brow rose. "So where are you?"

You jumped when the sounds of a LITERAL drum roll dramatically sounded off from no where just like the previous instruments had.

"Im heeeeere! Ladies and gentledemons. The world's finest playwright, post, director, actor, clown, and everyone's most beloved trickster!"

Before you the curtains parted wide open. A loud explosion sounded out like a loud firecracker, white fog flowing out from the other side as the drumroll continued. Before from out of the fog, a figure twirled you leaned back as something landed with a thud in front of you.

"TADA! The star of the show has arrived!" The talk figure announced twirling a scepter and smirking like anyone would be impressed with his mere presence. "Whatcha think? Entrance stage right as the theater nerds say."

You...blinked. Could only stare at this..thing before you as he smiled down at your form. You were right. It definitely was a clown but a very ODD looking clown. Dressed up mostly in black from the shoes up with a few blue diamond patterns, except for a puffy white collar, and two puffy sleeves one white one black with blue stripes. Speaking of blue, his skin and eyes was various shades of blue too, as well as his hair with white and black sprinkled in but the thing that weirded you out the most was the plethora of eyes that stared back at you from the locks.

You continued to stare, shaking your head blinking as your brain tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Before something tapped you hard on your head.

"Hellooooo! Was my appearance too much for your fragile mindset or somethin'? Wouldn't be the first time I broke a mortal."

"Hey! Stop that!" You swatted his hands harmlessly away as he giggled, giving a glare. "Who even are you anyways?"

"Oh. Where are my manners?" Reaching up a blue hand, he pulled off a blue,black, and white jester hat you hadn't noticed before and dramatically bowed. "Shadow Milk at your service, or well you're more of a MY service now that I think about it." He popped back up just tossing the hat up and somehow it miraculously landed on his head again, before one hand went to his hip as the other tapped against his scepter whick had some kind of shiny blue gem in the shape of an eye on it's end. "Now that the boring introductions are outta the way, what say we get down to the bare crumbs?"

"Shadow...Milk?? That's a pretty weird name even for a clown."

He instantly frowned. "Hey!" The end of that scepter was pointed at your face. "Look here. You humans name your spawn Porsche and Mercedes. Last time I was on the human plane, those were the names of those guzzling metal carriages you ride in. Looots of death in those things."

"...Ok. Point taken." You guessed clowns were supposed to have ridiculous names anyways. You took a moment to really look over his frowning man jester thing as his foot tapped against the sparkly obsidian black floor beneath your feets. "What movie did I watch to conjure you up?"

"Pfft! Ahahaha!!" Throwing his head back he laughed loudly at the very thought he could be anything but a thing conjured up in your dream. "Absolutely NOTHING! Hate to break it to you, Cupcake, but this-" His hands gestured to his talk body with a proud smile. "-is aaaalllll natural! One hundred percent dark matter with a two percentage of calcium and hellfire from where I was baked in the fiery Dante's Inferno oven with guaranteed sinful actions!!"

You chuckled at his actions. "So you're what? A demon?"

"DING, DING, DING!! WE GOT OURSELVES A WINNER FOLKS!!" His hands clapped together letting the scepter float mid air. "A round of applause for you. You're actually the second fastest one to figure that out. The first one was the guy who wanted me to torture this rival king in his dreams. Ah. Such deliciously soul crushing memories.~ Brings a tear to my eyes."

"This is unbelievably." A hand reached up to rub your head. "It was probably the litter of coke I drank."

"Unbelievably or not we got a few things to go over. This part's boring so I just like to get it outta the way." With a snap of his fingers a rolled up paper and gold monocle appeared out of thin air only to Unravel by itself and the man, Shadow Milk, to place the monocle on his left eye to boredly read it. "Alright. As according to the rules between the different realms any deal made between a demon and mortal is binding until the task is completed or the higher ups cancel the contract, but you put us in quite the problem."

You couldn't believe this was happening. You were never drinking that much soda before bed again if it gave you a stroke level hallucinating fever dream like this- Wait. "Wait." He boredly glanced up as you pointed to yourself. "What do mean my fault?"

"To put it in little words you're inferior human brain would understand, I was summoned but it's all mixed up and not in the fun 'mess with the heads of the inoocents'" way I prefer." He looked annoyed pointing the monocle at nothing as he gestured with his hands. "I was summoned here by someone but YOU were my offering."

You blinked. "I was your WHAT?!"

He groaned rolling his eyes. "Don't any humans know basic rites anymore? Ok! I'll explain it the long way then." He took a dramatic deep inhale and turned to you. "When you summon a demon you can't just summon something for nothin', Cupcake. We expect to be paid for our work-" he made a money motion with a hand. "-just like anyone else. Usually it's something like sacrificing an animal or mutual benefits like getting to stay on this plane of existence for a spell, but in my infinite power and life I've never been in a puzzle like this."

"Wha-?" He cut you off by pointing a finger in your face.

"Your human friend summoned me, however it wasn't her blood but yours used in the offering so technically YOU are the one bound to me but usually the one who actually summoned me is who I serve. So you see? I'm literally stuck between a rock and a hard place."

"Then .. can't you serve us both if that's what's wrong?" You didn't know why you were going along with this.

"Usually yeah. It wouldn't be the first time I served a group of people." He leaned back against an invisible wall in mid air as he looked you over. "Problem is that you didn't exactly partake in the ritual itself and didn't concent to be an offering if you didn't know that you WERE gonna be one."

"Demons need concent for contracts?"

He shrugged. "The bosses down there are very touchy on rules what can I say?"

"Have you even tried talking to Margo?!" This was starting to get WAY too detailed to be real and it was starting to freak you out.

"Ugh! Yes. But as soon as she found out your little game wasn't legend she freaked out. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I'm not getting anywhere with that lost cause. Sssooooo- You can see the problem I have here." He started holding up fingers with the listed off points. "She doesn't want anything. Technically I can't go back because I was summoned and I have to complete a task before I get off. There's no getting through to her, so that means I'm stuck in limbo which is WAY more difficult than Purgatory. At least their place has a waiting list. No completed ritual means I'm stuck between realms and can't get out until I'm banished back or a deal is completed! But there's problems with that too."

"Im a-afraid to ask."

"Technically you are my offering since it was your blood. So technically you're mine, Dolly. Problem is that I can't claim you either as you weren't a part of the ritual by technicality, and while human sacrifices aren't unheard of, it's usually only certain types of beings that can accept unwilling souls as payments. Your friend doesn't even want anything from me so I can't complete anything for her, I can't just claim you without fulfilling my part of your concent, so this means I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

You stared at him. He stared at you cocking a brow at your face. The entire place going quiet as you felt the immense weight of the situation hit you. And if he didn't snap his fingers materializing a chair beneath you, you might've fallen to the sparkly ground in shock.

"I...You...Wh-What happens now then?!" You looked at him desperately. "Do you just make a deal with me then?!"

"That'd be the ideal choice, but unfortunately it's no longer up to me." Head in his hand he pointed the other one down. "The higher ups are discussin' this boring show as we speak, and they're already getting a headaches over it."

MORE demons!? "What are THEY going to do?!"

"They're trying to decide if there's anything to do here. It's confusing though since this hasn't exactly happened before, but worst case scenario they'll decide everything's null and void and arrange for an angel to come banish me back down there."

"An..Angel??"

"Mm hm." Then he made a face. "Knowing my luck it'll be Pure Vanilla."

..You blinked. "There's an angel called Pure Vanilla??.. You're joking this time."

"Oh I WISH I could joke about his existence being fake but unfortunately this isn't scripted or staged."...He then chuckled and smiled a maw of fangs at you. "Guess if worst comes to worst, Pure Vanilla is just gonna 'extract' me!~"

You stared at him.

"Oh, c'mon. Pure Vanilla extract?? That's a golden joke!" He sighed as you still stared. "Nevermind. I have better ones anyways." With a snap of his fingers everything disappeared minus the chair you sat on and he smiled wider in sinful delight as he floated on over. "Personally speaking, I hope they decide to let me keep you for my troubles.~"

You blinked as an arm skunk around your shoulders suddenly pulling you against his cold body. "Wha- WHY?!"

"I've been in your head for a while watching you work away on your stories, what you think, seeing how you do things. And I must say.." He almost purred the next few words. "I LIKE what I see.~ You're just my type of human.~" he pinched your cheek as you swatted his hand away quickly.

"That's creepy!! And that's not gonna happen!"

"I'm afraid it's out of both of our hands, Cupcake. As they say 'that's how the cookie crumbles.'" A black pointed nail tapped your cheek as his smile widened more. "I'm afraid you're not going to be rid of me for a long, long time. Ehehehe!"

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