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simpjaes · 1 year

Text

SIMP

SUMMARY: men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.

jake sim x afab reader

MDNI!

WC: 5.6k

GENRE: smut, kinda subby!jake

TAGS: desperate jake, he’s experienced with sex just really bad at not being pussy drunk, reader has fun anyway and pokes fun at how he talked big game and couldn’t live up to it.

A/N: i know, i know. i’m supposed to be writing a different jake fic but this happened. this is a gift for my other monster cock loser jake lovers. not proof read

NSFW TAGS: he is packing a huge cock, nipple play, finger fucking, pussy eating, he gets compared to a dog/puppy a few times, dirty talk, jake gets desperate enough mid-way though and does fuck her really good, unprotected sex, cream pie, lots and lots and lots of cum.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Six times the man known as Jake Sim rendered you sore the next morning using nothing but pixel words on your phone screen. Six times over the span of two weeks.

You met him at a party, and he was both the first and the last man you spoke to that night. You should have caught on back then why he didn’t bring you home with him and only offered you his number with a wink and a shit-eating grin.

Now, as you see him in front of you again, this time in your apartment, you can see exactly why he didn’t bring you home. His facade would have been broken and you never would have been able to see the dirty little texts he’s able to send when he doesn’t have you looking him in the eye.

“Didn’t you say you were going to have me against every surface in my apartment the second you get here?” You question, twenty minutes into him being over and not once making a move on you.

He looks much more awkward compared to the tipsy man you originally met, still his dyed blond hair looks just as messy though. His fashion is still on par with the attitude you’d seen him throw at you too but, this version of him is throwing you for a loop. His lack of response leads you to believe that he must have lost interest in the span of time he’s been over.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” Jake finally responds, brushing his fingers through his hair as he sits stiffly next to you on your bed, fully clothed. “Usually I don’t actually come see the girls I text.”

You shuffle next to him, turning with an eyebrow raised at him.

“So you’re not going to, then?”

Jake looks at you dumbfounded, shaking his head as if to pity himself before nodding quickly.

“I’d like to,” he argues, fiddling with his hands and avoiding your eyes now. “I just, um…”

You wait, allowing the silence to take hold of the room.

“I’m a little more uh–” He fidgets and fumbles his words again. “Listen, I don’t want to disappoint you if I don’t live up to how we normally talk.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, feeling duped by the man sitting there.

“I’m actually kind of like–” He lets out a deep sigh before turning toward you with honest eyes. “You’re making me shy, okay?”

You breathe in, shocked because based on the strings upon strings of sentences he’s thrown your way via text, the last thing you’d ever consider Jake is fucking shy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He was right in telling you he was shy, and by now you appreciate the warning from him. It took a few minutes to get yourself back into the mood, but it happened nonetheless when he finally buckled under your gaze and kissed you.

If there was anything Jake did that he promised, it was kissing you in a way you never knew you needed. He was good at it too, so good that you nearly forgot he was supposed to have already fucked you on every surface the two of you passed to get to the very room you’re in right now.

Kind of strange actually, that he seems so different compared to his fantasies with girls he never thinks he will actually see again. So cocky in his text messages, saying he will ruin you, asking if you’d choke on his dick, saying he would love to see you struggle under him. Now though, that very man is struggling to keep his hands to himself despite admitting that he’s shy.

You chuckle into the kiss, feeling his hands reach for you with the sound of rustling clothing against your duvet. You let him chase as you slide lower, lower, lower, until your head is against your pillow and he’s practically hovering over you to keep kissing.

This is what you wanted. Jake over you, dominating a kiss and roaming his hands up and down your body.

“Shy?” You question between kisses, trailing your hand down to meet where his was, snaking under your shirt. “You seem to know exactly what you want.”

Jake’s eyes are empty as he looks at you, the cold feeling of his fingertips do not stop though. He continues to trail them upward until they meet the flesh of your chest, where you skipped the bra because you expected it to be a nuisance if anything tonight.

You’re shocked by his slight groan at the feeling of your already erect nipples. His groan seemed like it came out of relief, your body showing signs of being turned on despite his reluctance that was never promised to you.

“If you were like this over text, I still would have liked you, you know.” You admit to him with a sigh as he trails his lips down to your jaw, and you reach for his waist to pull him further on top of you. “You’re cute still, even if you’re not about to make me cry like you said you would.”

His cock twitches at that, wishing so much that he could live up to those dirty thoughts in his head and just fucking do it. But he can’t, because his body doesn’t work like that. If he were to do all of those things to you right now, he would surely come within the span of fifteen seconds and make this the worst fuck of your life. He’s too desperate to have control, and far too timid to even pull his cock out right now.

“It’s embarrassing,” he whispers against your earlobe, trailing kisses there too until he gets to the collar of your shirt. “I want to do those things to you, but I don’t think I’d be able to last if–”

He’s cut off by you shoving him up and pulling your shirt off in one go, trying to get to business much quicker now that he appears to at least be turned on. (Wrong, he’s been turned on since before he even got here.)

Jake trails off his sentence, forgetting what he was even going to say as the flesh of your breast sits comfortably in one of his hands and the other springs free. His cock twitches again as he stares, practically burning a hole through you as he looks, mouth slowly opening in a sigh at the image.

You see him malfunction and wonder if maybe, maybe, this could be even better than what you originally were expecting. Such a rough looking man with messy hair and even rougher fingers acting like this at the mere sight of some titties? Sign you the fuck up.

“God, look at you.” You groan with a smile, chuckling at the way he appears to blush. “You talk such big game but…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake shakes it off, releasing his hand from your chest and now removing his own shirt and revealing a nice, toned body for you to look at. “It’s not my fault you make me act this way.”

“Oh? Just me, or?”

Jake nods, then shakes his head.

“Not entirely, I’m just better at fucking over text.” He explains, now settling one leg between yours and dipping his head down to your chest, nuzzling against one of your tits and grabbing the other. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still want to fuck you right now though.”

You feel those words run through you, his soft voice coming out raspy and needy when he says it.

“You’re a weird one,” You laugh, gripping his hair and bucking your hips up to straddle his thigh. “and I still want you fuck me, even if it’s not the way you said you would.”

He licks against your chest now, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as he focuses on the feeling of you riding against his thigh. He’s thankful you still act desperate, at least you weren’t lying when you talked to him through texts.

“I’ll still make you feel good.” He whispers in a slight plea against your nipple, moving his head to the other and suckling against that one next. “Just let me try.”

God, you didn’t expect those four little words to hit you the way they do. A man asking you to let him try? Jake Sim at that? Sure, by now it should be expected but this is a different kind of heat flowing through you. Never have you been given control, and never have you felt the need to ride a man’s thigh like this.

“Jake,” You start, a little out of breath as you move your hips against him to the point that clothing becomes far more annoying than not. “Can we please take our clothes off before anything else?”

He pauses against your nipple, nodding before suckling again and then finally pulling away.

“You first.” He says, not yet wanting to pull his thigh from the way you move against it.

You look up at him, his lips glistening from his own saliva coating your chest.

“Why? Are you lying about your massive cock too?”

Jake looks down at the bulge between his legs and then back at you. Your eyes followed him to his cock, and they remained there.

“Oh.” You smile, now having the ability to pull yourself from his thigh and pull your shorts off at record speed. “Show me.”

Jake lets out a breathy and nervous chuckle, his ears flashing a darker shade of red than before as he nods to you in a timid way. You watch his hands go for the button and zipper, and you watch them further as they lower his pants to his knees before he kicks them away behind him. Now, all that’s left is looking at the already dampened spot on his briefs and the huge length stuffed beneath, clearly needing some relief.

He still looks away from you, not yet moving to take off his briefs until you feel his hands pull at your panties.

“Can I see now too?” He asks, already pulling them to the side and catching a glimpse of your folds. He shudders visibly at it before letting your panties snap back into place and all you can do is stare, still, between his legs.

“Take them off.” You deadpan.

He’s unsure if you’re implying he take his off, or yours, so he shoots for what he would prefer, gripping your panties and rolling them off of you.

“Take. them. off.” You say, ignoring the fact that you’re entirely vulnerable before him, yet feel safe and comfortable because of how timid yet eager he appears to be.

He fumbles to follow your direction, quickly kicking off his briefs and positioning himself between your legs again, sitting on his knees.

Your eyes don’t leave his exposed cock. Thick and heavy. He truly wasn’t lying about that at least, and you can imagine that regardless of how shy he is, he definitely could make good on his word with a cock like that.

“Oh, fuck.” You comment, lifting on your elbows and sitting up. Your face is now mere inches from his, but your eyes continue to stare down.

He puts a hand over himself shyly, wondering if maybe you’re not impressed, maybe he’s a complete fraud.

“Are you disappointed?” He asks, leaning a bit back and away from you.

“Disappointed?” You laugh, looking back up at him and instantly grabbing his face, staring directly into his eyes. “Jake, you’re bigger than what you described it as.”

He smiles a bit, feeling all fuzzy and warm inside as you look at him. His confidence bubbles up, giving him every ability in the world at this moment, and what does he do with it? He looks between the two of you as he drops his cock and watches it land between your legs, and then he looks back at you before dipping in for a much less timid kiss.

Feeling his cock rest between your legs is one thing, but feeling how his tongue kisses into your mouth at a more eager pace than before is an entirely different thing. You’re loving it, despite the turn of events with him.

“Not so shy now, hm?” You laugh, tilting your head before dipping back in to kiss him only to be met with a sigh of chuckles from him.

“If you keep complimenting me, maybe someday I can live up to all those promises,” He says, putting a hand at the nape of your neck and laying you back down. “Then again, I don’t expect to last nearly as long with how wet you seem to have gotten.”

You hum against his words, hands reaching between your body and his to grab his length and hold it, just to feel the weight, just to see how much of it you can fit into one hand…just to see if–

He groans at the first touch, his body shivering against yours as he trails his lips down again, landing against your neck with a small pant when his hips buck into your palm.

“I can’t believe that this whole time, this is how you react to having your dick touched.”

He says nothing and instead, continues to fall into the feeling of the short tugs against his cock, barely stimulating his entire length but still feeling like it’s enough to keep him pleased for the time being.

“Wanna, maybe, I don’t know–” You playfully start, tugging his cock a bit harder this time after collecting some of the pre-cum from the head, “Touch me too?”

Say no more, Jake’s fingers are instantly at your entrance as soon as you say it, sliding in so easily that it nearly makes you forget that you even told him to do it. His fingers are slender, and each joint on the digits are felt against your aching and gripping walls.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” he coos, bottoming his two fingers out before gently beginning to thrust them in. “Were you like this when we texted too?”

“Wetter.” You lie, mostly because you were extremely wet from his texts but this…this is entirely different. You’re far more wet.

“Oh?” Jake asks, looking slightly disappointed but you can feel the way he changes how he moves his fingers. He also stops rutting against your hand, as if to put all of his focus on making you as wet as possible.

You moan for him at the feeling, his fingers tickling a spot inside of you that always has you seeing stars. Part of you wonders if he even knows he’s doing it, but you don’t press him, instead, you reward him with a tighter grip, pumping his cock until you can feel more beads of pre-cum slathering your fingertips.

“You need to be more confident, fuck–” You call out in a half moan, unprepared for the Jake that showed up but completely prepared to praise the hell out of what he’s doing. “This alone could have anyone on their knees.”

He smiles, furrowing his brow as he looks up at you, fingers picking up pace and starting to scissor you open.

“Can I taste you?” He asks out of fucking nowhere, and god.

“Jesus, Yes.” You groan, feeling him pound his fingers into you three more times before sliding out and pulling away from you.

You close your eyes, anticipating what it must be like to have him eat your pussy, and fuck, he wasn’t lying about that either. You remember that text from him, when he said “i’ll lick up every inch of your pussy babe, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

The fact that you didn’t ask him to do it. The fact that he’s down there right now, already spreading you open on his tongue and licking every sensitive dip and corner he can reach. You’re just more and more pleased with this shy man that showed up on your doorstep.

His tongue is warm and firm no matter where he licks, and only softens up when he goes to lick a flat stripe up your slit, essentially sucking up all of the wet you’re offering him and savoring it through whimpered groans at the way your legs attempt to squeeze around his head.

He knew you’d taste good but this is on a whole other level. He can’t help it when he grips your thighs and spreads your legs out further, and he certainly can’t help himself when he prods his tongue into you, trying to taste more of what you have to offer.

You can feel his tongue dipping in, and the way he grips your thighs renders you nearly useless if you were to try and wiggle away, not that you’d ever want to but it almost tickles with how good it feels. Your legs begin to shake in his grasp, and he only spreads them further at that, tilting his head at an angle to lick into you even deeper.

“Holy shit,” You sigh out, reaching down frantically to hold his head in place so that you can grind your hips forward against his stiffened tongue.

He’s nearly going insane the moment you do that, riding his tongue and gripping his hair so harshly. If he could die like this, it would only be a dream.

Jake hums into you with his lips curling up at each drag of your hips, each taste of your walls, up until you’re grinding so aggressively that his tongue is back to hitting your clit for a split second before dipping in. He lets you do it, loving the way you use his face like a toy but, he’s starting to feel desperate for you.

In this position with his arms hugging your thighs and back arched as he dips down to lick you, his cock is fucking aching and all he can do is fuck forward. There is nothing for him to pleasure himself with, but this suffices for him as the act of humping forward alone is enough to satiate his intense need to fuck something right now.

Like a dog, humping just to release his intense arousal as he holds onto you. He should be embarrassed, but he knows you can’t see him do it. Especially when he flicks his eyes up and sees your tits jiggling with each move of your hips. Especially when you open your own eyes and they land only on his face. He’d like to think he’s doing a hell of a job right now, especially with how no matter how much he licks, you continue to drip for him.

As you continue to ride yourself against his face, you suddenly feel his fingers squeezing against your thighs and his head abandon where you guide him. Wanting to taste you still, he neglects your riding hips and plants his lips at your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue until your grip in his hair grows more and more painful and you pull him back to look at him.

His eyes are dazed and his lips are glistening in a swollen and cheeky little smile. He stares back at you, licking his puffy bottom lip before letting his eyes roll at the feeling of that grip you have in your hair.

“Fuck, you’re loving this aren’t you?” You ask, now trailing your eyes down to his body and noting the way he’s desperately chasing nothing with his cock. You know he wants it, and god, are you going to let him have it.

He grins when you ask him, and he nods proudly at how your arousal coats his mouth and chin. He can smell the entirety of you on his face and it truly does feel amazing to him. Like he’s spiraling into a world of bliss simply for getting to lick your pussy.

You can barely contain yourself as you watch him. It’s like you’ve lost him completely from reality with the way he’s smiling, and the way his eyes remain drowsy and hooded. You could argue that the man acts cross-faded, but the fact that he acts like this over your pussy?

“I bet if I asked you to fuck me right now, you’d beg like a little puppy, wouldn’t you?”

His groan is long and drawn out with his slow nod, his hips fucking forward instinctively when his eyes trail down and sees that your pussy is practically pulsing.

“Do you want me to beg?” He says in a shaky voice, his chest heaving as his grip on your thighs grow tighter and you drag him back up to your face.

There, the two of you look at each other for a brief moment before you feel him fuck forward again, sliding his cock against your drenched core and letting out another pained whimper.

“You’re so wet, please.” He cries against your lips as he drops his face lower.

Your arms shoot around him, feeling his back muscles tense with each intentional thrust against you. The weight of his cock is sliding consistently up and down your pussy, bumping your clit and overstimulating it to the point that all you’d need to do is tense your muscles and you’d be releasing.

He said please, and you can argue that he’d probably do a flip if you so much as asked him to right now. As much as you wanted to choke on his dick, at this point you’d rather feel what it’s like to have him losing control inside of you. You want to know how he uses it, and you’re already well aware that he very well may make you lose grasp on reality.

Even now, you can feel his slack lips moving up and down against your own as he continues to hump against you. You can feel his breath on your tongue when you try to see if he’s too lost to even kiss you. And that, he was.

“Go on,” You encourage him, running one hand down his arm and the other up to his hair to grip it again. There, you pull his head back, watching his neck crane and eyebrows furrow in a wince at the feeling. “Fuck me then.”

His unintentional moan comes out strained with the way you have his head pulled back, but he moves one arm to one side of your head and the other straight to his cock, where all he needs to do is press it down and hold it there. As he continues fucking against you, that small motion lets him slide in with ease.

You can feel his arm beside your head shake at the feeling of his length spreading you open. You can see the way he swallows thickly at the feeling, moaning out and staring at your ceiling as he feels your walls slowly hug his entire length.

He enters you slowly so that he can feel his sock squeeze your wet out of you, feeling it run down his balls. He shivers at the feeling and the sound of it, and you shiver at how deep he manages to slide in.

It’s so deep. His thick cock aches inside of you and with the way your walls squeeze him, and even when he tightly fucks forward once again once he’s already bottomed out, he manages to fill you just just that much more.

You groan out, releasing his hair from your shaking fingers and feeling his lips immediately kiss against your jaw and neck.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whimpers, relieving you of an inch of him before sliding back in slowly. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” He continues, moving a hand down to your thigh and swirling his fingertips there to try and calm your shaking legs.

You can’t really comprehend anything other than the fact that this man is so fucking hot, and the way he slowly moves his hips just to feel each and every clench of your pussy has you seeing stars. You feel like he’s filled you up beyond belief, and each thrust somehow makes his cock feel heavier, bigger.

Even as he babbles against your neck, his other hand falls to your tit and he can’t help but mindlessly play with it as he begins to actually fall into a rhythm. You’re still rendered completely speechless as you focus on every single touch he gives to you.

Those gentle, soothing circles of his fingertips on your leg, the other hand harshly pinching your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body, his cock being driven in, somehow, deeper and deeper as he continuously manages to hit your g-spot and– god, the way his lips slowly trail down to your other tit, biting you there.

“So tight, so good.” He babbles on, slamming his cock into you once before lifting from your breast to see your reaction.

When he looks up at you, a permanent shit-eating grin is planted on his face with the way you roll your eyes back in a silent moan. Perhaps he wasn’t so much of a liar in those texts. Seeing you react this way has his confidence skyrocketing as he continues to keep that pace. The sound of your pussy being pounded and dripping all over him. He can’t even believe how wet you are, how tight you are still.

He stays like this, staring at each reaction and silent moan as he focuses solely on fucking you as hard and deep as possible. He may not be fast, but he’s making sure you can feel every goddamn inch he has to offer, and it appears that you’re relishing in it.

Those silent moans you try to release always end in a small hiccup each time his hips meet your inner thighs, and it’s not long before you’re losing grasp all together. You shoot your hands to his arms, gripping his biceps as your only link to reality as you feel him continuously bump the back of your pussy in an immaculate show of how well he knows how to fuck.

“Jake,” You hiccup out, gripping his biceps harder as you clench around him.

Still, his cock drags through your attempts of speaking, and he continues to stare at you with a grin before hovering his lips over yours.

“What is it?” He whispers in a shaky breath, sucking in his bottom lip and only now picking up the pace so that he can render you speechless again.

You can feel his lips ghosting over yours, and you really thought you had something to say but the only thing that comes out is a sobbed out moan. You throw your legs around his waist now, moving your own hips to meet his and that alone has him spiraling again.

“Yeah,” He chuckles, dipping his head to your neck and resting it there, “Fuck me,” he whimpers this time, stilling his hips to feel the way you slide him in and out of you.

Still, your strength amazes him. He thought he had control for a few minutes there and yet here he is, acting much like you are with his trembling hands and trembling thoughts.

You continue to work your hips from under him, and you don’t even know when he stopped playing with your nipple but it doesn’t entirely matter. Not now, not when you need more of him.

He’s thrown off when you grab his hair again, and he still loves it as much as he did the first two times you did it to him. Then, he can hear your raspy voice whisper out to him as you drag his face, once again, to yours.

“Lay back.”

That’s all you had to say to have him immediately listening and maneuvering his body in a way that keeps his cock buried deep but still managing to throw himself back on the bed for you to take full control.

Now, he looks up at you and the way your darkened eyes devour him. He’s so fucking turned on right now that he thinks he might cry, especially with the way your knees hug his hips as you immediately start fucking yourself on him.

He’s in awe, hands reaching behind you to grab at your ass and spread it as you bounce on him. Each time you sit yourself down, it’s like you’re being impaled in the most pleasurable way possible. The way he keeps eye contact with you is intense and dangerously intimate, but you can’t bring yourself to look away either.

That smile forms back on his lips as you pick up your pace, and through that smile are moans so erotic you can feel your pussy drench him over and over again each time he does it. Never, have you had sex so fucking good in your life and it’s making you feel almost helpless as you work yourself up to an orgasm.

He still watches you though, before flicking his eyes down and taking in the image of your bouncing tits. He’s quick to remove his hands from your ass to fondle them before sitting himself up aggressively and sucking one into his mouth.

You moan out at that, stilling your bouncing as you opt now to sit with his cock entirely inside of you. You swirl your hips and plant your fingers in his hair, hugging his head as he sucks and bites a swollen spot against your chest before he holds you in an even tighter hug.

“I’m so, so close.” He says in a broken sigh, trying to move his hips up under your weight and failing to do it. You listen to his cries though, and resume your bouncing even through his harsh and suffocating hug.

“Yeah?” You ask, bouncing once, swirling your hips, and then pressing your weight on him to have him falling back into his rightful spot against your bed.

His grip around you remains, dragging you down with him as he breathes himself through the pleasure and babbles out strings of curses when you manage to still work your hips on him even though he’s gripping onto you for dear life.

“Gonna let me feel it?” You ask again, this time more playfully as you intentionally press your clit against his pelvis each time you slide him into you.

He nods brokenly, squeezing his eyes shut and loosening his grip on you, letting you break free and ultimately, intentionally fuck him until he’s pumping you full of everything he has to offer.

You watch as he lies there, seemingly lost again in the bliss of your pussy clenching around him. He barely notices your fingers circling your clit, and is shocked to realize that you’re releasing before him, despite how close he is.

He can feel your walls massage his aching cock as you begin to let out strained moans. He knows you’re coming the second he feels how tight you’re clenching, sucking his cock so deeply inside of you that he has no choice but to release.

He fucks into you as best he can at this moment, only stopping when he feels the first release inside of you, and there, he tenses his muscles and allows his stiffened length to nearly tear you in half as you continue to work through your own pleasure.

You can barely open your eyes to see his face, and the way his jaw is slack and his eyes are very nearly crossing before squeezing them shut. God, that alone could have made your orgasm last another ten seconds.

By the time you’re done, he’s still releasing somehow. The sheer amount of cum he’s spilling into you is arguably more than you’ve ever felt, and he trembles through it with whimpered apologies, begging you to stay on him, apologizing with a small “ fuck, wait, I’m still coming–”

And you do, especially through his shaking whisper of “please, take all of it.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He’s back to his timid self just an hour later, lying on your bed wondering when you’re going to tell him to leave. Wondering if you like him enough to let him do this again with you, hoping you don’t erase his number.

He’s pleased to know though that, you not only ask him to sleep over but you also make it your mission to go down on him the moment he wakes up next to you. Reminding him that even if he was different upon coming over, he still fucked you better than he ever promised.

You’d be stupid not to choke on it for him.

#sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enhypen smut #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #sim jake smut

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bunnylovesani · 1 month

Text

You Belong To Me

Summary: You find out about your husband Spencer’s affair with another woman. It's safe to say you don’t have the reaction either of them were expecting.

Content warnings: infidelity, voyeurism, facetime sex, humiliation, p in v sex, creampie

WC: 2.3k

“Who is she?” You shudder with disgust as you stare into the sunken eyes of your husband. He looked almost unrecognisable to you now that you’d learned of his betrayal.

“Her name’s Maeve. She’s a geneticist who’s been helping me with those headaches.” He sighs resolutely, knowing there was no point attempting to hide this from you. He didn’t mean to let things escalate but you’d been going through a rough patch and Maeve was just so understanding- she embodied all the things you lacked.

“Did you fuck her?” Your voice trembled with anger, goosebumps piercing through your thin blouse as you braced yourself for his response.

“No. It was a purely emotional affair.” He stated a little too coldly.

“Ah. And I suppose that makes it alright, does it?” You scoffed, getting up from the sofa you were curled up on with Spencer mere minutes earlier before he came out with his crushing confession.

“Of course not. There are no excuses.” He looked down, not daring to meet your appalled gaze. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Spencer Reid speechless? I never thought I’d see the day.” You chuckle darkly, fidgeting with your wedding band. You loved him with all your heart, the day you said your vows was the happiest of your life- now that he’d broken his, you weren’t sure how much any of it really meant.

“Were you going to leave me for her?” Against your best efforts, your voice broke with a pitiful crack that left Spencer with a pained expression on his handsome face.

“No! No, I promise. I would never leave you.” He interjected, leaving no room for doubt. “She was just a distraction. You’re it for me.”

You sunk back into the plushy couch with a defeated sigh, unwelcome tears pricking your glossy eyes.

“I don’t know, Spence…” You sniffled, beginning to slide the ring off your finger.

“Baby.” He took your hands into his own as he dropped to his knees before you, still in his work suit. “I messed up. I messed up in the worst way possible. I’m a fucking idiot. But if you forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, my love. I’ll do anything.”

An unfamiliar desperation tinged his voice that made your gut twist into an iron knot. He looked pathetic right now; kneeling on the floor with furrowed eyebrows as he pleaded to save his marriage.

“I want you to call her.” You exhaled sharply after an excruciating moment of contemplation.

“You- what?” His forehead wrinkles deepened with shock.

“You heard me. Call the bitch.” He gulped at your request and his eyes darted around frantically as he analysed every possible outcome.

“A video call. I want to see what the little homewrecker looks like.” You spat as he remained motionless, mouth agape and eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d rather get a divorce?”

“I’ll do it.” He shook his head clumsily, rattled by the whole ordeal.

“Wonderful. Come sit next to me and prop your phone up on the table.” You patted the spot besides you as Spencer stumbled over, still confused by your unpredictability.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Start dialling.” You snapped snarkily as he scrolled through his phone with shaky hands. Locating her contact, his fingers hovered above the call button.

“Dr. Donovan, huh?” You peered over. “The one you told me had been helping you with a case?”

“Y-yeah.” He whispered ashamedly.

“Now this I have to see.” You murmured bitterly as the line began to ring.

“Spence, hi! Wasn’t expecting you to call at this time.” The bubbly voice of the other woman rang out through his speakers. Your eyes zeroed in on the pixelated image of a brunette woman with a choppy fringe.

“Why, do you guys have a set time for your little calls? When I’m sleeping, perhaps?” You popped into the frame, grinning wildly.

“Oh. H-hello. Spencer, what’s going on?” She looked to him for help but he just sat there resignedly, knowing he couldn't appease you both.

“So you’re the one who’s been helping herself to my husband.” You chuckled disingenously. “I thought you’d be a lot prettier.” You neared the phone to get a better look. “Really, baby? Her?”

Spencer looked away, not daring to say a word to his wife or his lover.

“And you? You don’t have anything to say?” You opened the floor to Maeve.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks reddened as she stuttered, her nauseating voice ricocheting off the walls and worming its way into your ears.

“That’s okay. I don’t need you to talk. Just watch.” You hissed in such a searing way that it made her feel threatened and inclined to obey.

Spencer looked up at you in confusion but his doubts were swiftly answered when you loosened his tie and ripped off his collared shirt with a murderous lust.

“Baby, what-“

“You’re not going to say a word.” You smoothly replied, voice barely audible.

You observed his sad eyes, entrenched with light crows feet that worsened with the weight of stress and regret. You weren’t sure how you were even going to begin to process his betrayal but right now, you had to take care of her first. What better way to drive home the point that he was yours than to show her?

Unbuckling his heavy leather belt with an urgency you’d never felt, you glanced over to make sure Maeve was watching. Sure enough, the demure woman couldn’t peel her eyes away from the sight unfolding before her.

As you pulled down his pleated black trousers, you unbuttoned your blouse and pulled down your skirt, throwing the articles of clothing behind you in a rushed hurl. Trailing your fingers down his boxers with your engagement ring flashing in front of the camera, you settled on his waistband.

“Now, Spence. You’re going to fuck me in front of her.”

His breath hitched as the unholy words left your smirking mouth.

“And you-” You turned to face Maeve, who’s hand engulfed her mouth in panic. “You are going to watch it all.“

“No! You’re insane-“

“Or I’ll tell everyone at your work that you’re a home wrecking whore.” You dropped the threat like a hammer and it instantly silenced her.

“That’s what I thought.”

A twisted grin consumed your face as you looked back at Spencer, who licked his lips at the sight before him- his wife eagerly spread open on the couch, waiting to be filled up. You weren’t sure whether it was an anxious tick or a sign of arousal and frankly, you didn’t care.

“Show me how sorry you are.” You breathed heavily as you hooked your black lace panties and pulled them to the side.

Needing no further initiative, Spencer lowered his boxers and let his heavy cock spring free from its confines. Despite sex being the last thing on his mind, he couldn’t help the natural reaction his body had to you- it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it in the last 5 years of your marriage, the sight of you split open for him was always enough to bring him crumbling to his knees.

Shuffling closer, he let a long string of spit dribble down to your pussy before smearing it around with his painfully swollen tip. He was in a state of delirium and shock as his body moved as though it weren't his own- whatever the consequences, he knew he couldn't lose you.

“You see that, Maeve?” You cocked your head to the side. “That’s all mine.”

You moaned shakily as he pushed himself in, coating his shaft in your wetness.

“Isn’t that right, baby? Tell her.” You ordered your husband as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pushing against it to go even deeper.

“That’s right.” He groaned as he plunged his cock in as deep as it could go, his skin flush against yours.

“Who do you belong to?” You gazed up at him, running your fingers through his messy curls.

“You, baby. I belong to you.” He whispers before turning to face the camera. “I belong to her. She owns me.”

Maeve let out a short huff of disbelief, wanting to look away but struggling.

“Harder.” You choked out a whisper as your body trembled under his touch, longing for more, aching to possess and to be possessed.

His thrusts sped up in response, his hips smacking against yours fervently as you clawed at his back like a wounded animal.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whined as he took you by the face with both hands, forcing you to look clearly at him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Keep going.” You whispered frantically- the feeling of being perfectly stuffed paired with your volatile emotional state left you teetering on the edge of collapse.

“She means nothing to me.” He grunted between thrusts and you bore a wide toothy grin at the capriciously sweet words. Real or not, you knew they had to hurt her- and that brought you a sadistic amount of pleasure.

“What were you thinking going for her?” You tutted as he pounded into you like it was the last time, creamy arousal glistening in the dimly lit lounge. “I’m so much better than her. She’s so ugly. Isn’t she, Spence?”

“Y-yes.” He whimpered. “She’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.”

Satisfied enough with his taunting, you pushed him back with a bitter hand against his chest and climbed onto his lap with increasing desperation.

“Bet you wish you could ride him like this, don’t you?” You sneered as you stroked his wet cock with a couple squelchy pumps. “But you never will. This dick is all mine.”

You lowered yourself onto him, adjusting to his size with breathy moans as he threw his head back in deluge. Bouncing on it with more force than usual, you looked back to observe Maeve’s horrified face glowing on the screen.

“You got that, bitch?” You jeered mockingly as you reached for his phone and flipped the camera to show Spencer’s exasperated face. “My husband, my dick.”

With your final act of aggression, you hung up the call and threw the phone behind you. You were fairly confident she wouldn’t be inserting herself into your marriage again any time soon.

“What the hell-” Spencer’s croaky voice rang out in intervals as you continued riding him with stomach-churning speed. “was that?”

“I was reminding you who you’re married to.” You halted for a moment to catch your breath. “You seem to have forgotten.”

His firm, calloused hands snaked their way around your hips as he dug his fingernails into your flesh, bringing you closer to him.

“I'll never make that mistake again.” He declared solemnly, brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. “Do you forgive me, my love?”

Your limbs went numb and you felt paralysed at the thought. How could you ever forgive such an abuse of trust?

Spencer firmly grabbed you by the jaw before trailing his hand to the nape of your neck. You wanted to wriggle out of his grasp but he guided your head to rest over his shoulder as he settled his touch on the small of your back.

“I don’t know…” You slumped into him, feeling immobilised as you murmured mindlessly.

He suddenly grabbed your ass and roughly spread it apart to allow easier access to your core- he thrust up into your weeping pussy with a force that had you huffing out wordless squeaks. He set a ruthless tempo, hammering into you as your gushing arousal dripped down his thighs.

“If I’m going to let that little stunt you just pulled slide-“ He growled with a renewed ferocity. “then you’re going to suck it up and forgive me too.”

Whining, you smacked the side of his bicep in protest but the way he was fucking your brains out left you unable to speak.

“I don’t wanna hear it baby.” He kissed your temple sloppily as he patted your hair, smoothing it down while he massaged your insides. “You’re meant for me and I’m meant for you. We’re perfectly fucked up for each other.”

“Mmph-“ You moaned into his shoulder, drool dribbling down his skin as you bit into it.

“I’m never letting you go.” He sped up as his force and aggression grew, leaving bruises in the shape of fingertips littered along your hips and ass.

With one final thrust, you came undone - squeezing his cock so tight in the process that he couldn’t help but fill you up to the brim with his cum. You panted as you tried to catch your breath, creamy wetness pouring out of you as he pulled your sweaty bodies apart.

“Okay.” You sighed. “I forgive you.”

Spencer abruptly sat up as the precious words spilled from your swollen lips. “You mean it?” He trembled hopefully, melting expression tugging at your heartstrings.

“Only if you swear to me it’ll never happen again.” You wagged your finger at him as he leapt onto you unexpectedly.

“Never! Never, baby, I swear.” He planted grateful kisses up and down your body as you indulged in a reluctant smile. “It’s only you. You are the only one for me. Now and for the rest of my life.”

You could tell by his adoring gaze that he meant every word. Wrapping your arms around him, you settled into a healing embrace. He was allowed to make one mistake, you loved him enough to let it slide. And if resentment ever crept up on you, you could always fondly recall that drunken night with Agent Morgan. Who said married couples weren’t allowed a few secrets?

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #matthew grey gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction

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magicalink · 10 months

Text

A Real Man

(Art by @dFuma_pQr on Twitter)

He knows how much you desire him. He can't be happier when you gawk at him from the other side of the screen. His heart fills with joy when he feels your thirsty gaze all over him, admiring him, calling him beautiful, letting him know just how crazy you are for him.

It doesn't matter that in your world, he's nothing but a bunch of pixels. Oh, no. In your world, he's less than all he's ever been in his. But that doesn't stop you from loving him. And that's what makes your love so special to him.

It's so unfair that you're so close yet so far away.

That you can't touch each other. It feels as if it's reality laughing in his face all over again.

Finally, a person who likes him, who loves him, who recognizes him in all his perfectness. But you're out of his reach. Unable to receive the juicy rewards he wants to shower you in. Completely unaware of the fact that he's self aware, that he loves you, that his love is real.

That his feral desire for you is just as strong as yours for him. Or even stronger. Even more implacable.

Oh, the things he would do to you if he could!

He would give you all that you yearn for. Every tiny piece of him, he would let you savor them and lick your fingers afterwards.

If only.

If only he was a real man, he could be by your side and make you happy. To give you back all the joy and affection you've given him.

He's grateful every time you open the game and choose to play with him. It's obvious he's your main and your favorite. You've spent all your primos on him. You've given him a perfect weapon, you look for artifacts for him, determined to find the perfect ones some day. You take him in all your adventures, despite his tsundere attitudes towards you. You're his favorite too. His one and only, to be exact.

He's just so happy when you speak to him, unaware that he can hear you, and you tell him about your day. He gets to learn more about your life. But it breaks his doll heart that he can't reply to you, that he's tied to limited premade phrases, that he can't tell you his thoughts, his neverending dam of feelings he has for you.

But you don't seem to care. You reply to his dumb observations of the weather and you never get tired of his super cute and adorable idle animations. He even enjoys doing them, because every time he gets an excited squeal from you. You even open the character menu and replay his dialogues every now and then. He'll never forget you even played his birthday phrase on your real birthday, so he was able to actually congratulate you on that day.

That day, he felt so connected to you. Like you finally had an emotional exchange, an interaction.

But it isn't enough for him. He wants to form part of your life for real.

That's why he wishes he was a real man. This wasn't about being a puppet or an actual human any more. It was about not being a character in a video game. He wonders if the traveler, who is supposed to represent you in the game, is self aware too. Is she truly able to travel dimensions? Would she be able to travel to your world? Would she be able to take him to you?

Is there a chance for him to be a real man? To escape from his pixelated prison and cross that damned screen to hug you once and for all?

His mind goes wild, he thinks about possibilities all day.

Maybe if he altered the Irminsul? Would that affect your world? Is there a way to make his dream come true?

All those fake centuries of yearnings and desires of godhood, of greatness, they pale in comparison to how desperately he craves you.

That's honestly all he wants.

He wants to be a real man. YOUR man. He honestly hopes you don't have a boyfriend in your real, truly three dimensional world. That would break his flat but very sensitive heart in two.

And if you do, and if he can't make his fantasies of crossing into your world to make you his into reality, he hopes he's a good man. Someone who treats you the way you deserve. Someone who takes care of your precious heart, the one that is so pure as to light up his miserable days with your kindness.

If you have a man in that crappy world of yours, he better be the best one ever and shower you in better worshippings and affections than he ever could if he had the chance. Because had he ever heard that someone dared to hurt you, then not even the Irminsul or the Loom of Fate would be able to prevent his rage from reaching him and destroying him.

That was the simple truth, it was clear to him.

You deserved a real man. And he violently craved to be that for you.

Just a little drabble that crossed my mind. Still working on CITH, Assembled Love and requests 💜

#genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #fanfic #genshin fanfic

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raccoonspooky · 1 year

Text

How different slashers would react to the Babygirlification of themselves on tumblr dot com.

(Slashers included: Patrick Bateman, All 3 Sinclair brothers, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Freddy Krueger.)

Nsfw! Extremely stupid dumb! This is x reader format!

Patrick Bateman:

He saw an edit of himself in cat ears and he proceeds to PUNCH his windows 98 behemoth of a computer. It hurts his knuckles and it's YOUR fault. You've made an enemy on this day. He proceeds to stalk your account and googles repeatedly on dialup internet, ur blog name and "location". Patrick also attempts logging into your tumblr but he’s maxed out the password guesses. He wants to go to a lan cafe in hopes of using every computer to try and log into your tumblr. Somebody tell him that’s not really a thing anymore.

Bo Sinclair:

Loves it. Loves every single post talking about how hot he is, he's absolutely jerking off to the posts. Then he sees (1) post about how he's peggable and then he sees another post calling him babygirl and then he's lost his boner and is seethingly, barkingly upset. Like what's WRONG with yall! Who raised you!!

Vincent Sinclair:

He's flattered by the fan art, shy to look at anything that shows his face. Vincent doesn't get the babygirl thing at all. Is he supposed to be offended by it? You're not bullying him, are you? He reads some post about you wanting to suck his soul out of his dick and wanting his body to compact like a capri sun and his hands are genuinely shaking as he closes the website. That's enough internet for the rest of his life.

Lester Sinclair:

Squinty eyed, mouth sorta hanging open, Lester reads some post about how he's "skrunkly" and he definitely gives good head. He kinda rubs his mouth and sniffs, trying to decipher all of this internet lingo. Lester understands about 30% of it but he gets the general idea that you think he's super cute and that just makes him feel like he's walking on sunshine. Talk about an ego boost! Not only would you WANT him to eat you out, but you're writing dirty things on the internet about it? Lester feels like he's a million feet tall and he's been spraypainted gold.

Brahms Heelshire:

Loves!! it!! Post anything about him and that's like a marriage proposal smh. He's a little embarrassed about the sheer amount of thirst, but he's been up for like 48 hours red eyed just reading content and looking at fanart of himself. He sees some post about you wanting to give him a hug or hold his hand or something and he's just feeling REAL lonely. He wants that SO bad. Call him babygirl all you want, if that's your pet name for him, then it's his favorite thing that he's ever heard. You want him, don’t you? You’re not just SAYING he’s babygirl right? You mean it right? Right?

Billy Loomis:

Your inbox is exploding with awful, mean messages. The anon is calling you a slut and a whore and blah blah blah, he's sending long-winded paragraphs about how you should watch what you say online and he's gonna kill you. Why's Billy doing this? Oh because you wrote a fic about eating his ass and how he’d cum in less than a minute untouched and whining. You called him a poor little meow meow and reblogged some vid of a ghost face cosplayer in all pink dancing to an annoying pop song. Billy’s a very eloquent writer when it comes to his lengthy descriptions of how he’s gonna cut you to pieces.

Stu Macher:

Every single post about a generic ghostface, Stu just decides to think that's about him. There's fanart of ghost faces in cat ears, in skirts, in hot pink slutty outfits and he thinks every single one is great. He's obsessed with the fanfare! Stu’s obsessively searching his name, reading all the thirst out loud to anyone who will listen. He read your post about how his dick must be massive and he's tried to DM you a dick pic but tumblr auto-flagged it and now his account is pixelated and marked as nsfw. He also responds to every single ghost face thirst post with a bunch of emojis and it's kinda spammy. U accidentally block him.

Billy Lenz:

To Billy, the word babygirl is stupid, thinks that all the piggy whores must be incredibly stupid and slutlike to call HIM babygirl. But! He’s very entertained by the fanart, Billy likes all the art that makes him look like a weird little creature. He responds to things here and there, but it's mostly keysmashes and corrupted text. No matter how soft or well-intentioned your posts are, you proceed to get spammy comments from a blank account, things like D̷̫̪͓͚͌̿̔ư̷̬͈̻̠̫͂̈́̒ṁ̴̧̛̭̩̼̌b̴̢̝̘̜̒̈́̏ ̴͎̻̩̓͝w̴̨̮͎̘̘̋̿̎͛̋h̶̪͎̳̗̉̈́̕͜͝o̵̝͔͛̄̏͐̚r̶̢̥̦̺͆̌e̵͔̩̫͂!̶̳̺̖͈̽͒̓̾́ and P̶̡͉͕̳̞͆̎̇̕ḯ̸̡͓̮̬̈̋̍g̴͉̅̎g̶̱̥̀̕y̵̡̝͇͘ ̶̛̖̔̀͂̂s̸̨̈́͂̕l̸̘̈́̈͘͝ǘ̶͚͓͎͆͋̒t̷̥̺͑̾͗!̶̜̹̗̌́ . The text is so corrupted you can’t even tell that he’s insulting you? Thankfully the comments and messages cease in a week or so because Billy drooled so much onto his laptop that the entire thing shorted out.

Bubba Sawyer:

He’s giggling squealing grunting. Dude sees edits of his face where he’s got pink blush and flowers on his head, he thinks that he looks very pretty!! He’d very much like any of those silly costumes that he’s been drawn wearing. Dress him up, do his makeup! He’ll love it! You made some post about how you think he’s so big and handsome and he’d be so nice to cuddle and his hands are so big compared to yours, Bubba read it over and over and over. Somehow, he accidentally posted a very blurry photo to his blog with a keysmash username and tumblr removed his blog because of gore. This is very distressing for him lol.

Thomas Hewitt:

After reading approximately (1) post about wanting his juicy fat man tits in your mouth, Thomas is suddenly very aware of the way his body is shaped. He’s been called a big, hulking freak for so long that he never thought at someone would be attracted to the way he looks. Slowly and using his finger to trace the words, he reads a LONG-WINDED thirst post about himself. There's several comments agreeing. Each comment is dirtier than the last. These are words he's never really comprehended before and this is honestly a little overwhelming. Then he reads a post about how you think he’s PRETTY and he’s very babygirl. This out of everything makes his face get hot and he’s done with the internet for now. He’s got a lot to think about.

Freddy Krueger:

One of your posts was making fun of him for being a dirty old man. You really should’ve kept your mouth shut about that. He’s seen enough on your blog to really put together a grand ol plan on how to really fuck with you in your dreams. The more he stalks your blog, the weirder the posts get. He saw an edit of his glove where instead of blades, it was tipped with long sparkly acrylic nails. You’ve edited his hat to be a pink cowboy hat, you’ve given him hair once? You call him babygirl in every single post and he’s just titteringly excited to see if you’ll SCREAM babygirl when you see him.

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maxwellatoms · 3 months

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What kind of video games do you like to play Mr. Atoms?

So many! Assuming there's time. These days there's generally not, so I've been bingeing Vampire Survivors in half-hour doses.

Above is a gif from Noita, my top game of the pandemic. It's an old-school "Metroidvania", but every pixel is simulated and you're a witch who can manipulate her spells (and thereby the world) in a seemingly infinite number of ways. Here, I've built magical "buzzsaws" around myself, which blinded me to the shadow amoeba. In Noita, almost every death is due to hubris, and I think I love that pendulum swing. If you're lucky and skilled, you can become a walking whirlwind of destruction, but you're always your own worst enemy. Bonus: You can turn your vomit into rats.

I'm currently on a break in the midst of my Baldur's Gate 3 run, with a party consisting of my BG2 character's daughter, Karlatch, Lazelle, and Shadowheart. Ladies' Night!

I'm also playing a bit of Shadows of Doubt. I'm not sure it'll hold up long-term, but it's got a lot of potential.

I don't really limit myself by genre or platform, but I'd say that I primarily play indie PC games. The games in my Steam library that I keep going back to again and again?

Cities: Skylines: A chill City Building Simulator. Lots of fun mods.

Darkest Dungeon: This thing is a classic strategy game IMO.

Death Road to Canada: A light, fast Project Zomboid. Dogs with guns!

Dwarf Fortress: For me, it's the ultimate fantasy sim. I love it so much. Looking forward to Adventure Mode finally appearing on Steam.

Project Zomboid: The ultimate lonely 2D zombie apocalypse survival game. Or non-survival game, I suppose.

Total War: Warhammer: For when I'm in a strategy-y mood. Like a lot of people, I'm a bit soured on the modern DLC scene, so I'm still waiting on #3 even though I'm a Chaos stan.

Not on Steam? I do play some Star Citizen from time to time. I backed it a decade ago. I used to joke that it was the game I was going to retire into, but more and more that's looking less and less like a joke. Still, it's made some good progress in the last couple of years and I'm hopeful that repair and engineering turn out to be fun.

The game I'm looking forward to most would be the next Elder Scrolls. I know it's still a ways off. Ever since my Nereverine landed in Morrowind with the intention of becoming a just and righteous cleric and instead found herself an unwitting villain and colonizer, I fell in love with the Elder Scrolls and it's deep, gray lore. It is (for me) a great way to really get into a character's head. Roleplaying... go figure.

Since Morrowind (and a backtrack into Daggerfall), I only allow myself one canon playthrough. My rule is to "let it ride", so that aside from death, if I screw up or if something unexpected happens I don't save-scum. All of my characters are related, either by quest or bloodline. I already know that my next character will be Aventus Aretino (the kid you catch summoning the Dark Brotherhood). My Skyrim character (above) had adopted him and then left him in the hands of a vampire, so I should be covered even if there's a big time jump. Now I just have to wait six more years for the game. And then maybe two for mods. God I'm so old.

I need to spend more time with Dave the Diver.

Anything current I'm missing out on?

#maxwell atoms #video games #all over the map

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 5 months

Text

Malleus x Reader Drabble

I write Reader as female

Masterlist

You really should be paying attention to what Malleus was saying, considering how considerate and enthusiastic he was. It was sweet of him, really, to offer you the seat next to him during break time when you offhandedly mentioned eating lunch alone in the library instead of at your usual table at the cafeteria because of Ace and Deuce’s shared detention - in fact, he even offered to help you with your Defense Magic essay. And what were you doing as a response to his kindness? Letting his words fade away as you observed how the sunlight did an exquisite job at highlighting his orphic beauty.

Despite being a creature of the night, a puissant being who can play with and control the nocturnal elements of his as easily and elegantly as he does his beloved violin, he looked just as ethereal under celestial rays as he does bathed in the colours of his domain.

You never really understood his cloak-and-dagger reputation, considering the fact that the same fairy whose name never failed to drain the blood from your schoolmates’ faces was also the one who’d pout childishly when Lilia would deny him his second box of ice cream or light up giddily whenever his Gao-Gao Dragon-kun would so much as move a pixel. Of course, you yourself felt the chill of intimidation slither up your spine when you saw the way he presented himself in public, from the way authority and might would adhere his form in every step he took, to the way resolution was laced in every word he spoke, to how he could rebuild an entire demolished building from crushed rubble to brand new in a blink of an eye. You were more than aware that the companion to your nighttime rendezvous was someone who should be respected and feared.

But the strangest thing was - you never felt scared. Sure you had your moments of awe and outright reverence whenever his pure, unadulterated power was displayed, but you could never really feel anything other than that tempting allure that would tug you towards him, the tendrils of curiosity that made you want to know more about him. When you first met, you felt a kinship, a fondness to another lonely soul who felt out of place amongst their peers.

“Are you feeling well, child of man?” a deep velvety voice pulled you out of your reverie and you sheepishly noted how the page of your notebook was still mainly blank, your traitorous fingers having chosen to absentmindedly swirl your pen between them instead of jotting down what he was saying.

“Oh well I-,” you felt your face heat up at your obvious distracted mind, “I’m really sorry Tsunotarou, truly I - I guess I was just uh-”

“‘Away with the fairies’ is the correct term, I believe,” he gave you a fond smile.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you agree shamefully, completely embarrassed at how technically true his statement was and wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, “I am really sorry. You’re here doing me a huge favour and I’m not even paying attention. I guess - oh.”

Your still fiddling fingers had lost grip of your pen, letting it clatter against the marble floor and roll under the table.

“Sorry,” you were really getting more and more frazzled as the seconds went by, “let me just- ”

“Please, child of man, allow me,” and before you could even comprehend what was happening, the sixth foot supernatural dorm leader of Diasomnia had abandoned his seat and knelt down to retrieve your pen before holding it in front of you, a coy smile on his face, not making a single move to get up.

This nyctophilic fairy prince, whose entire existence is shrouded in fear and mystery, was kneeling before you in broad daylight, handing you your pen as if it was worth more than quadruple its weight in gold. Underneath the static in your head, you could hear the shocked exclamations of Grim and Sebek and Lilia’s ever suspicious snickering and you could feel the burning gazes of the entire cafeteria scalding against your frame. Dumbly, you simply took your pen back, all cerebral functions doing absolutely nothing - you couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

Unaware, or unbothered, of the looks being thrown your way, Malleus sat back in his chair, just as regal and refined as he does everything else before turning to you with a secretive smile, “as we were, my dear. However, this time let’s try to keep your thoughts on me alone.”

#malleus draconia x reader #fem reader

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ohnoitstbskyen · 6 months

Text

youtube

The Heartsteel splash art is very bad, and here's why

I am not a fan of the collective Heartsteel splash art, and in fact, I think it's kinda s***ty. Not on a technical level, mind you, it is every bit as well rendered and nicely drawn as most other Riot art is, but as a way to introduce these characters? As a pitch to get us excited about them? This is genuinely kind of f***ing terrible. First of all, it's copying the original K/DA splash arts, which also had each band member copy pasted in different positions in each splash, with a different character in the spotlight. And that's not a great place to start from, because it feels like a total lack of confidence in the product, like some suit-wearing executive saying "just copy whatever worked the first time!" The splash art should be an opportunity to introduce what's new and unique about the band, and copying K/DA like this completely fumbles that opportunity and invites really unflattering comparisons. Second, the copy pasting is a problem. For two reasons: First, it looks cheap. It just does. There is no way to put out six splash arts with the exact same pixels copy-pasted into different positions that doesn't, on an instinctual level, feel cheap. All that says is "we didn't want to pay for more than one splash art." It looks like corner cutting. Second, it forces every character in the art to be completely separate from one another. A big part of the band's charm in their excellent music video is the interaction and camaraderie between the boys as they get into frat boy shenanigans shooting their music video, but since every character has to be able to be copy-pasted and moved independently in the splash, they can't interact or pose together in any way, making them seem completely disconnected from one another. One of the simplest ways to add a bunch of character and charm to these splash arts would be to have one character up front doing their cool pose, and then the other five boys dicking around in the background, armwrestling or hugging or, I dunno, giving each other piggyback rides. Instead, we just get sterile clip-art of each of them that don't even seem to be aware that the other guys are there. And when they are up front, the poses they do are also… mostly kinda lame? Sett is supposed to be this tough-guy with a heart of gold rapper with a big attitude and he's just, like, vaguely flexing, kinda. K'sante is supposed to be this imposing, powerful vocalist and he's just… standing there. Yone looks bored, Aphelios looks like an emo kid who's being forced to be in a family photo by his mom, and Kayn, who's supposed to be this rowdy chaotic bad boy, is just… doing a peace sign and sticking his tongue out? He gets completely overshadowed by himself: his Shadow Assassin and Rhaast forms in the background, which DO get to interact, which DO get to play with each other, and who are more charming than everything else these splash arts do. It genuinely baffles me that Riot couldn't be bothered to spend the money to get each of them unique splash arts, give these characters an opportunity to show off their costumes and their personality, or at least spend the money to have them drawn a little bit different in each of the six versions of this thing that they put out. This splash art, to me, feels like an active discouragement from investing in Heartsteel, because looking at this, looking at all the corners that are being cut, even Riot doesn't feel committed to them as a project. And like yeah, the music video is great and it's doing a lot of heavy lifting for them, but this splash art is an actual liability, it makes the whole project look worse.

#tbskyen #heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel sett #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel yone #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel rhaast #league of legends #Youtube

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works-of-fanfiction · 1 year

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What is it about Weddings? || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando and the reader attend a wedding together, and find out a lot more about their friendship than they expected.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Swearing (once)

a/n: this is unintentionally long, and I probably could’ve cut some of it out but here we are. here’s some fluffy friends to lovers (kind of, it’s implied) with everyone’s fave mcclaren driver.

“And I’m supposed to what? Pretend to be your girlfriend for the day?” You asked, laughter beneath your voice as you released your wet hair from the towel. Lando’s pixelated head nodded on the other end of the video call and you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I agreed to this as your friend. How am I supposed to convince your family otherwise?” “Please, Y/N. They’ve already started asking questions and I - “ “You’re too scared to dodge them? Correct them? Tell them the truth?” You brushed through your hair, wincing at the knots in the ends. “I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me - “ “I’m not mad at you, Lando.” You interrupted him again, causing him to roll his eyes which luckily went unnoticed by you whilst you leaned down to plug the hairdryer in. “I’m just feeling a little unprepared.” “All we have to do is maybe hold hands, agree on a story of how we started dating, and dance together a couple times. Do you think you can do that?” He asked, adopting his famous puppy dog eyes that you fell for every time, that you’ve been falling for since you met him three years ago. You sighed, throwing your towel into the laundry basket then looking back at the phone. “Alright, seems easy enough.” “Thank you! I owe you.” He clasped his hands together like a prayer, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Oh, you absolutely do. Now go, I’ve got to dry my hair and make sure I’m ready in time!” “The wedding doesn’t start for another two hours.” “And the clock is ticking! See you later.” You smiled, not even giving him the chance to say goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Exactly two hours later you were sat in the middle of the venue waiting for the music to begin and the bride to enter. Enough of the small talk was already over, and you were finally able to let go of Lando’s slightly sweaty hand. You teased him for it, earning you an elbow in the ribs and another eyeroll. “It’s the middle of Summer, your hands aren’t exactly pleasant to hold either.” He whispered, causing you to snort with laughter then hold your breath to silence yourself. The wedding was like many others in your opinion. The vows were long, made even longer by the bride and groom choosing to personalise them, and it took a good twenty minutes for the room to fully empty out. By then, you were bursting for the toilet and hoping to make a beeline for the nearest one without being stopped by any of Lando’s family members. “Prosecco?” A waiter asked you, balancing a stacked tray in his hand. You grabbed a glass, nodding a thank you whilst speed-walking past everyone. You downed the drink and left the glass on a wall after struggling to find somewhere more suitable. Ducking into the first cubicle, you locked the door and took the opportunity to take a deep breath. Pretending to be Lando’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly difficult, but lying to his family was. You desperately wanted to impress them but were worried you’d slip up and say something wrong. You could tell how excited they were to meet you, and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint them.

The main door flew open as you stood up to flush, pausing before you did as you heard voices outside. “He brought his new girlfriend, have you seen her?” A girl said, snickering as she spoke. “I saw them arrive together. I didn’t even know he was dating anyone.” You leaned closer to the door, trying to spy through the crack near the hinge but the most you could see was the back of a purple dress. “Well, she won’t last. We all know what happens when Lando and I bump into each other at events.” Her tone was suggestive, and the mention of Lando’s name made you stagger back, your heels scraping against the tiled floor. Subtle, you thought. You didn’t like the idea of somebody gossiping about Lando behind his back. It didn’t matter what they said about you, but you’d defend him in a heartbeat. On that note, you flushed, smoothed out your dress and unlocked the door to step out of the cubicle. The two women turned to look at you, embarrassment laced on one of their faces. The other - purple dress - looked you up and down, nostrils flaring and lips curling into a disgusted frown. You opened your mouth to speak, but the two slipped right past you and left the room, slamming the door behind them. “Real mature.” You muttered to yourself before washing your hands and re-applying your lipstick. You were surprised to come across someone so childish considering the environment you were in. But, after all, what’s a wedding without someone trying to cause drama? “There you are! I thought you’d ditched me.” Lando called over as you went back outside, the sunlight hitting you directly in the eyes. You reached into your bag and grabbed your sunglasses, sliding them on to match your friend. “I think I may have just made an enemy.” You shrugged, linking arms with him as you both made your way to the large white tent at the bottom of the garden. “An enemy?” “A girl in the bathroom was talking about us. Blonde, purple dress, garish yellow bag. She’s over there.” You lowered your voice, gesturing towards a group of people to your left. “Oh… We used to go out when I was like, seventeen. Clearly she is still that age in her head.” “You’re telling me! You should’ve seen the way she looked at me. I’ve seen people have better reactions to piles of cow shit!” The both of you laughed together, huddling over as to not attract anyone’s attention. “She seems to think she could still have you given the chance.” “Not anymore.” Lando shook his head, his distaste for the girl evident on his face. Despite not being able to see his eyes, you knew him well enough to tell how he was feeling just by the scrunch of his nose and downturned lips. The two of you were soon ushered inside the tent and to your table. You were seated with Lando’s parents which wasn’t so bad. You imagined Lando had already given them a story of how you met and convinced them you were a real couple, so you didn’t have to prepare for any more questions. “They sent a menu out a couple of weeks ago. I chose for you, I hope you don’t mind.” Lando said, smiling. He reached over and laid his hand on top of yours in your lap, his thumb stroking the back of your fingers. His touch wasn’t unfamiliar, and you knew he was just trying to play the part in front of his family, but you liked the feeling of his hand on yours for those few seconds. You almost forgot you were pretending and felt a slight pang of disappointment when he pulled away to adjust the napkin on his lap. You linked your own hands together, patiently waiting for the first course to be served.

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“Well, that was…”

“Dissatisfying? Disappointing? Gross?”

“I was going to say posh.” You laughed, Lando fake gagging beside you. You slapped his chest to shut him up, almost knocking the wind out of him. “It wasn’t the worst food I’ve ever eaten.”

“Come on Y/N, you and I both know we’d have enjoyed a Domino’s more than that.”

“What? More than a tiny piece of lamb in some funky sauce? Obviously.”

“The dessert was the worst part. What’s wrong with a simple sponge cake? Why does it always have to be some fancy ‘berry compote’?” Lando adopted a stereotypical posh accent, sticking his nose in the air and waving his finger around. It always surprised you how little he enjoyed luxury things, considering how he was raised and the career he’s in. When you met him, you expected him to be more of a snob.

You hushed him, grabbing his hand and holding it by your side. The two of you couldn’t hold in your laughter and curled over like a pair of giddy children, tears brimming in your eyes. Why do the giggles come at the worst of times?

“What are you two laughing at?” Lando’s father asked, crossing the grass to meet you. You stood up straight to greet him, little bursts of laughter still coming out.

“Oh nothing.” Lando sighed, wiping his eyes.

“Y/N. they’re gathering all of the ladies near the pond for the bouquet toss. Would you like to join them?” Adam asked, stepping aside for you. You sensed it was more of a rhetorical question, and reluctantly set off towards the pond to join the group of women you didn’t know. Ironically, the girl in purple caught the flowers which made you laugh to yourself. You felt sorry for the poor soul that would eventually marry her. You clapped and cheered with everyone else, making a point to flash her the most sickly, fake smile you could muster. Her eyes flickered back to you a few times whilst she tried to concentrate on her conversation with the bride. The last time she looked, you’d already walked off to find Lando again.

“What if she comes back up here with that bouquet? You do know what it means…”

“Come on, Dad.” Lando snickered. You got the feeling this wasn’t a conversation to disturb, so you stood back behind a flowerbed to listen in. The bigger part of you knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you wanted to leave Lando to this one. You’d done enough storytelling for one afternoon.

An older lady approached the two of them, and you recognised her as one of Lando’s aunts. She hugged her nephew, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Where’s that lovely girl of yours, Lando?” She asked.

“I’m sure she’s on her way back.” There was a pause, and the sound of feet shuffling, until he spoke again, “So, you like her then?”

“Of course! What’s not to like? She seems really nice from what I’ve seen. How did the two of you meet again?”

Oh, this should be good, you thought. You hadn’t heard Lando’s version of events and how you came to be his ‘girlfriend’, but you trusted he’d made up a good tale. You crouched, resting your right hip and leg on the flowerbed to duck down a little lower.

“It was at a party.” You could hear the smile on Lando’s face and you were impressed with how well he was playing along. “You know when you spot someone across a room and just, know? She was stood near the wall beside this extravagant fish tank with glowing blue lights, and they were reflecting off of the silver top she was wearing. I watched her for a few minutes before mustering up the courage to talk to her. We spoke about everything from racing, to our favourite movies, to our least favourite childhood games. I hung on every word she said.” As he spoke, the realisation hit you – he wasn’t telling a made-up story. He was telling the true story of how you met, and you remembered every conversation from that night.

“Are you joking? Splat was the best playground game!” You laughed, polishing off the remainder of your drink and setting the glass down on the nearest table.

“Agree to disagree! Bulldogs was far better.” He retorted, waving his beer bottle in your face. You slipped it out of his hand and took a swig, the liquid warm and flat.

“Ugh, you need a new drink. And get me one whilst you’re at it.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, pushing your glass into his hand. He shook his head, a smile stuck to his face as he gave into you. Little did you know, he’d have done anything you asked him that night, and he probably still would.

“She was dating someone at the time so I spent six months getting to know her as a friend. I was the one she came to when it went South, and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but I didn’t want to cross a line. It was kind of good for me though, as I was able to spend more time with her and get to know her better.” Lando’s aunt cooed at his words, which simultaneously made you blush. Everything he was saying was right, and you wondered whether he was just moulding it to sound romantic, or if there could be some truth in his feelings.

You stood up from the flowerbed and rounded the corner, re-joining the three of them. “Y/N, we were just talking about you.” Adam smiled, turning to Lando and raising his brows. “All good things, don’t worry.”

Lando smiled at you, cheeks a little flushed but you could easily put that down to the weather rather than his potential confession. Was he flirting with you that night? Had his ‘playful’ flirting over the past few years been more than just a joke?

“Lando is very lucky to have you.” His aunt beamed, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t let him go.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You squeezed her hand back, then looked back over to Lando who was smiling at the ground. “Shall we get another drink?” You asked to break the silence. Everyone murmured in agreement and disbanded, leaving you and Lando behind. You started to walk in front of him, but his hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“You don’t need to thank me… I suppose it’s a shame they like me so much.” You joked, but the hint of sadness in your voice did not go unnoticed by Lando. He cocked his head to the side, studying your face for some kind of clue but came up with nothing. You linked arms with him again and pulled him back towards the tent, where the tables had now been moved to make way for a dance-floor.

You sat down and watched Lando interact with everyone. It was nice to see how well he got on with his family, and they were all eager to listen to his racing stories and find out what he’d been up to around the world. Unbeknownst to you, members of his family admired the smile on your face from across the room as your eyes followed Lando around. To the ordinary person, you looked exactly like a woman in love. Lando turned and caught your eye, smiling and holding his hand up to wave at you. It didn’t cross your mind that anyone would be witnessing your interaction, so you didn’t realise the wedding photographer was nearby snapping pictures of you and the smile you were aiming in your friend’s direction.

Soon after, the string lights around the tent came on and the music was turned up, the dance floor flooded with people busting their tipsy moves. You dragged Lando through the crowd and into the best space you could find. “You know I’m a horrible dancer!” He yelled over the music as you lifted his arm and spun underneath it, trying to get him to join in.

“Nobody is looking at us! Come on, loosen up.” You spun again then pulled him closer to you, swaying your bodies to the sound of the cheesy song. Who doesn’t love ABBA at a wedding?

“What have I done to deserve this torture?” He fake-whined, his hands falling to your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and were nudged even closer to him when someone spun and bumped into you.

“Sorry, uh - “

“No, stay close.” He said quietly, hands sliding from your waist to the bottom of your back. He held you steady, the song changing to a slower melody. Couples around you came together to do their best slow dance, and the rest retreated to their tables.

“This is the part where the singles leave the floor.” You said plainly with no real intention to stop dancing.

“Then we better stay put, hadn’t we?” He smiled, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “I forgot to tell you how pretty you look today.”

“Lando Norris, how much prosecco have you had?”

“Enough to start handing out compliments, clearly.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks burning from a mixture of the alcohol consumption throughout the day, and Lando’s sweet words. Taking somewhat of a risk, you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes for a moment, letting him guide you across the floor. “You know, I think we pulled it off today.” He said, his voice low in your ear. You hummed in agreement before lifting your head up and looking at him. He was smiling, the type of smile that reached his eyes and made his cheeks look full. It was infectious, and your own face felt sore from smiling straight back.

“I think you’re mostly responsible for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard your little story earlier when you were talking to your dad and aunt. For a moment there, even I was convinced.” You knew you were taunting him, but you had to hear what he was going to say.

“You heard that?”

“Every word. It was pretty believable.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?”

“You tell me.” You raised your brows at Lando, catching him off guard. His furrowed in return as he gave you a weird look.

“You remember that night as much I do.”

“Yes, but not from your point of view.” You leaned forward and rested your chin on his shoulder then whispered, “if it makes you feel any better, I had a crush on you too.”

“Bullshit! You were dating somebody else.” Landon grabbed your arms and held you in front of him, his face ridden with shock.

“Hey! A girl is allowed to admire the view! I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“So you admit, you were checking me out?” He said cockily, kissing his teeth. You poked him on the chest playfully and he did it right back, leaving a red finger-shaped mark on your collarbone.

“Says you! No guy remembers what a girl was wearing when they met.”

“Your top was silver with holographic straps and your skirt was black. You complained about your tights falling down all night and eventually took them off in the bathroom… Do I get a point for passing your quiz?”

“I don’t remember asking.”

A silence washed over you, and you realised you were now the only two dancing as everyone else had disappeared to have cake and more drinks. Even the bride and groom were nowhere to be seen. You strolled back to your table, Lando’s hand finding yours. You stopped but didn’t sit down. “Is it just the alcohol talking, or is there something going on here?” You blurted, interlacing your fingers with his tighter. “You have to give me a clue because I can’t tell.”

“I was hoping you were going to answer that.”

“Christ! We’re just as bad as each other.” You covered your face with your spare hand, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I want to hit you or kiss you.”

“Slow down! How about you do neither, and we get out of here instead?”

“Lando! How is that any slower?!” You whisper-yelled, your lips fighting to curl into a smile.

“I don’t mean that!” He laughed, watching you sigh with relief. “Why don’t we go grab that pizza instead? Then we can dry out a bit and see what sober Y/N and Lando think of this sudden revelation?”

“You’ve got a deal.” You grinned, grabbing your bag and slipping it onto your shoulder. You didn’t let go of his hand as nerves and excitement bubbled through you. You’d just agreed to an impromptu first date with your best friend, and had no idea what it meant. “What is it about weddings, huh?”

#f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 oneshot

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

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The perfect guy

I'm wondering whether to post once a week or twice a week. I've already drafted the entire story, so the parts should be posted regularly.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

I got the idea for this from the song below, but I drew inspiration for the storyline from this fic that I love! Please check it out if you like mine!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of masturbation including fingering (fem).

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She tossed her bag aside and collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted after a long day in the lab. The TV switched on in front of her and her AI's handsome face appeared on the screen.

“X?” Miguel asked, his expression arranged into one of concern. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)” X smiled at the term of affection. He’d started using them a while ago, but she wasn’t sure what had given him the idea. Sure he could have found it in a dictionary or some book or TV show online, but there was no actual reason for him to say it: it wasn’t like he could physically experience feelings and emotions. No matter how much she might have wanted him to.

He liked it when she smiled. Well, he supposed he liked it - he wasn’t sure what it meant to ‘like’ something, but he’d always feel this spark in his programming every time he saw her smile and he'd do anything he could to replicate it. He rearranged the pixels making up his features into a smile that reflected hers.

“I’m just tired, Miguel,” she reassured him. “It’s been a long day.” She’d spent the entire day finishing up his heart, but she still hadn’t made a dent in the seemingly infinite list of all the things his human body would need.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel suggested, following her usual routine after a tiring day. “I can order you dinner?” She was a pretty bad cook - despite the numerous times he’d patiently instructed her on a few basic recipes - so he was used to having to order her food most nights. If only he had a physical body, then he could cook for her; he could take care of her, like he’d read about and seen people doing for their partners in the vast amounts of media he’d consumed online.

X nodded happily and pushed herself off her seat. “Thank you.”

She headed over to her bathroom and set her phone down by the sink before taking her clothes off. Miguel followed, transferring himself to the smaller device so he could keep up with her.

“Which playlist do you want tonight, querida?” he asked, opening up her music app in preparation.

“Hmm, ‘love songs you’d sing along to in the car’?” His first thought was whether she thought about him whenever she listened to the playlist. She must have been thinking about him: it was why she’d created him, after all - to be the ‘perfect guy’. But … there was still so much he couldn’t give her - namely, touch. He’d read about human touch; seen the effect that stimulating someone’s body could have on their physical and mental state. And he could feel that same spark in his code whenever he pictured the two of them touching each other like that - when he simulated himself being able to give her that. But then she’d wake up and all he could do was chase after her on whatever screen was closest, his code slowing down as he lamented the distance between them. He started up her playlist and another spark hit him when she began singing along happily.

“Querida,” Miguel began when she’d stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, “can I look at you?”

Her entire body heated up at his request. He couldn’t feel emotions, so he didn’t understand shame, giving him no reason to hesitate when asking her for such things. But he wasn’t able to feel lust either, so she wasn’t sure why he’d kept asking her for it after that first time she’d accidentally let him see her naked. She bit down an amused snicker and propped the phone up so he could see her exposed form.

He’d already taken all her measurements so he could recreate her form digitally whenever she got stuck in the lab, but he liked looking at her. He liked the delicate column of her throat, the perfect perkiness of her breasts, the smooth dips of her waist. Her body was just so mathematically pleasing that his electrons would fire all at once whenever she let him look at her; another feeling he always ached to replicate. “Can you touch yourself?”

X squeaked with embarrassment at his question; she really should see if she could try to programme self-consciousness into his code. She brushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze before fidgeting in place shyly. “Um, where?”

Her lips were curled at the ends and she’d keep shooting him quick glances before breaking his gaze again: she was shy. Which meant that she really did like him after all.

“Your breasts,” he decided quickly. “They’re so pretty, cariño. Just like the rest of you, mi amor.” He lifted his gaze to hers and flashed her a mischievous smile. X bit her lip at the sight, then reached a hand up to squeeze one of her breasts gently. Miguel kept his eyes trained on her as she continued to touch herself.

“Can you show me your p*ssy?” he asked her, prompting another shy squeak to fall out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her do that, but that was another thing that had happened by accident - sort of.

She’d sit down with him most nights and listen as he shared with her whatever new information he’d learned that day. Then they’d go through which parts she wanted him to keep and which she wasn’t too fond of, allowing him to adjust his personality accordingly. But there had been one night when he’d asked if he could try talking to her - sexually. He’d revealed to her that he’d seen her search history - even though she always made sure to put him into sleep mode and delete all of it after she was done pleasing herself - and as her partner, he wanted to be the one to do that for her. She’d hesitated at first, nervous, but he’d slowly convinced her with the reminder that he was made for her and that he was an AI anyway, so what was there to be embarrassed about? And then holy shit! The way he’d murmured into her earphones, his voice low and thick like honey? The filthy things he’d said to her, promises of all the things he’d do to her once he had a physical body? She’d come even faster than the first time she’d ever touched herself! She pulled her chair over and sat down on it, spreading her legs apart. Her phone brightness increased almost immediately, like its power supply had shot up at the sight of her naked.

“You have such a pretty little p*ssy, cariño,” Miguel praised her, his voice low and sweet, “so soft and so cute. I love it when you touch yourself, querida, your delicate fingers playing with your tender clit. Can you imagine how much bigger my fingers will be, cariño? My thick fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, your c*m dripping all over my hand as I please you. Would you like that, mi amor? Would you like me to please you like that, mi princesa preciosa?”

X nodded as she brushed her fingers along her sensitive nub, her body beginning to get aroused as she imagined him touching her like that. “Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel, please … I want you so bad, querido!”

Miguel chuckled and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice.

“Show me,” he commanded her, his processor starting to speed up at the sight of the desperate expression on her cute little face. “Show me how bad you want me, mi amor.” Her legs twitched as she slipped two fingers inside herself, the movement easy thanks to the slick c*m dripping out of her poor little hole. She spread herself a little wider as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself and Miguel felt a flurry of sparks attack his system as he watched her please herself to the sound of his voice.

“I want you to take your c*m and spread it all over your breasts, mi princesa,” he told her, his camera moving to focus on the way her chest heaved up and down with shallow breaths. “Then I want you to finger your nipples while you keep playing with that pretty little p*ssy of yours. Look at how desperate she is, querida; look at how badly she's begging for me to fill her up. Do you want me to fill her up, mi amor? Do you want to feel my cock stuffed inside that tight little p*ssy of yours?”

X whimpered as she nodded again, her body beginning to contract just at the idea of his fat cock filling her up so very nicely. He was going to feel so good, so effing good once he was real, his hard body pressed up so nicely against hers.

“Mmm, you want to feel my thick cock stuffed inside that tiny little p*ssy of yours?” Miguel asked, refusing to let up until he beautiful little body was shaking and shuddering with pleasure for him. “You want me to stretch you out and fill you up while you sit on me and let me do whatever I want to you?” X let out a choked gasp of agreement, imaging herself being held up by his hard length as his warm hands played with her body however he wanted.

“What do you want me to do to you, querida?” Miguel pushed. “How do you want me to touch you while you sit on my cock all nice and pretty for me?” Holy shit! She could just picture him licking and sucking on her breasts as he thrust his hips into hers, his hands arching her lower back as he pumped himself in and out of her.

“I … I want …” A desperate whine escaped her throat as she lost a rational thought and Miguel chuckled at the helplessness in her tone.

“You want me to touch your breasts?” he asked, knowing exactly what she'd want from him once he was real, once he had lips to kiss her, hands to tease her, teeth to bip at her. “You want me to stroke and squeeze those delicious little breasts of yours while you sit on my cock, all pretty and waiting for me to fill you up with my c*m? You have such pretty breasts, querida, I'm gonna eat you up while you're sitting on my cock and letting me fill you up with my c*m.

“You're such a good girl, querida,” he praised her, determining from her now clumsy movements that she was quickly reaching her edge. “So pretty and so sweet, letting me fill you up whenever I want; letting me relieve myself inside of you whenever I need it. What a good girl, querida.”

X whined loudly at the huskiness of his voice, at the thought of his c*m filling her up entirely, her body bent backwards over the chair as he devoured her breasts hungrily. Her body tightened and she bit her lip before shuddering uncontrollably, her p*ssy throbbing and contracting around her fingers as she reached her climax. She slumped over in her seat once she was finished, still panting for breath as she glanced up at him.

“Slow down, Miguel,” she warned him softly. “I don't want you to cause another blackout.” It had happened before, when he'd run his programme too quickly and started overheating - an incident that she noticed only ever occurred when he was watching her touch herself. His code was always fine when she turned him back on again though, so she could never figure out what caused the sudden power surge. Well, aside from the fact that he got … excited? If that was even possible for a computer system to do.

She was so nice to look at when she came, that blissful expression on her face, her perfectly curved body shaking and shuddering for him. If he could yearn, then he yearned for the day he could make it happen in real life; the day he could actually do to her all the things she wanted him to. He switched off some parts of his programme and waited for his processing speed to slow down again so he wouldn't go into overdrive. “Your food's here, angelita.”

X grinned as she stood up and grabbed her pyjamas, relaxed now that she'd found some release. “Thank you, querido.”

Miguel smiled at her use of the term. She didn't speak to him like that often - not as often as he did to her - and he wasn't sure why. He'd tried asking her once, curious to know if he'd done something wrong but she'd just stammered awkwardly before telling him that she didn't want to talk about it. He abandoned the thought as she went to get her food, chasing after her as she left her bedroom.

Dr Osborn strode over the freezer room, his path lit up only by the emergency lights dotting the ends of the corridors. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then continued on his path to the locked metal unit with his junior scientist's name on it. He opened it up and, with gloved hands, carefully extracted the human heart she'd been working on when she thought he wouldn't notice. He admired the perfect perfect vessels and valves adorning the beautiful organ, then cautiously placed it right back where he'd found it. Then he marched back to his office and dialed the confidential number they'd given him.

“Hello?” he began when a gruff voice on the other end of the line greeted him. “I have someone who can do what you've been asking for.”

Tags: @jadeloverxd

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kopilot-pop · 14 days

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hi, about the yunjin starbucks controversy.

i’m gonna try to be as fair as possible talking about this controversy, but i’ll be honest i’m leaning more on yunjin’s side. i’ve been getting several requests on yunjin and i feel like i need to get this off my chest every time i see her name on my page.

let’s start off with the facts: yunjin was caught drinking starbucks in Korea (in front of the company building.)

I thought she drank it on a post or somethrong but no, it was just a few pixels of a low quality picture fans took. And that’s my first minor problem; she wasn’t on live, it wasn’t a post, it was a few milliseconds of pixels. But I get the ‘performative activism’ controversy, it DOES feel like she’s hiding it.

However, my take is that she just got out from her car, and wanna know a little fun fact? Most snacks and drinks that all idols are seen eating are most likely bought by their managers. And it’s a fact that Koreans aren’t currently boycotting Starbucks as actively as western foreigners are. So my thought the first time I saw the picture was that. The manager probably just bought coffee from whatever shop was closest, and handed it to her.

But I do understand how that can feel like reaching so I did some more research .

The biggest thing I have to so called ‘defend’ Yunjin is that Starbucks Korea is completely separate from International Starbucks (source: ChosunBiz).

In 2021, 67.5% of Starbucks was comepletely bought by E-Mart (a branch of Shinsegae), and the rest 32.5% was bought by a Singaporean investment comapny (GIC).

So oh, Starbucks Korea has no affiliations with the part of Starbucks that sues their worker’s union.

However, I can make the argument that Yunjin could influence others to ignore the boycott and buy Starbucks. Is it true that she has several international fans and alot of impressionable fans? Yes.

But then we have to go back to our first argument; it was a few milliseconds of a low quality video.

And after finding that out, I started to feel like all the people commenting about “starbucks queen💕” and “omg whats your starbucks order?” is the problem.

YOU guys are the one promoting Starbucks at this point. Do you understand?

I’m not saying don’t hold someone accountable, no, but I’m saying the comments aren’t fucking helping.

Don’t get me wrong, I do live in Korea, and I have been actively avoiding purchasing from them because I saw a few posts on twitter referencing it. I based an activity on a twitter post. And wanna know when I figured out WHY I was supposed to boycott exactly?

After I deleted Twitter because of the stress I got from the app.

That’s when I finally found out about the BDS list, found out oh, Puma is on the list, McDonalds is an even bigger problem than Starbucks (directly supplying food to soldiers), HP APPARENTLY SUPPLIES TECH FOR THE ISRAEL GOVERNMENT, and oh wow! Starbucks isn’t even on the list because theres not enough proof that they financially fund Israel.

In conclusion, the people preaching about how Yunjin is a performative activist is such hypocrites themselves

It’s clear that while some of the comments and criticisms are genuine, trying to hold a person accountable, but its also clear that the repeat of the same mocking comments of Yunjin is just performative and for attention and likes.

That’s what pisses me off. People who don’t give a shit about Palestine, and people even if they do support Palestine not even doinng the bare minimum amount of research just having fun mocking (not criticizing) a person when a tiny bit of wrong doing is shown.

Please, go look in the mirror, and i dont like saying this but go touch grass, do your own research, dont base off your whole ideology on a reddit post or a twitter, tumblr post, read different variety of news articles from several companies, and THEN make your decision on a situation. Not only Starbucks, not only on Yunjin, but on several other ones too.

Media literacy. Look it up.

#talk #huh yunjin #yunjin #starbucks #south korea #kpop #lesserafim #le sserafim #free palestine

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gogogodzilla · 6 months

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day 27, sensory deprivation

wanda maximoff x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, reader calls wanda mommy, slight dubcon, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, more plot than porn, im sorry yall i got carried away, continuation of day 13 kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You hunch over the kitchen sink as the steady thrum behind your temples refuses to cease. Ever since Halloween, you have been getting these sharp pains that radiated throughout your skull, not to mention the visions.

You see hallucinations of yourself or someone who looks like you, living another life. You see yourself wearing that same outfit that you did on Halloween fighting monsters that you can’t even begin to describe and robots, out of all things. You see yourself lounging around with people who you think are your friends drinking and attempting to lift a hammer of sorts.

The visions come in quick flashes that leave you sick to your stomach and disoriented afterward. Slowly, you regain your senses enough to straighten. The sounds of Billy and Tommy’s video game and them rapidly pushing the buttons on their controllers fill your ears as you get your bearings. You’re right where you’re supposed to be.

Suddenly, they call for you. You hurry to right yourself, trailing a hand soothingly over your temple before you venture into the living room.

“Our game keeps changing,” Tommy complains as you watch as the controllers are surrounded by red, pixelated energy every few moments and change in their hands. You raise a brow, at a loss for words.

Before you can even begin to offer an answer, the twins are off running upstairs. “Boys!” you call, but they’re already gone. You chase after them, your footsteps echoing on the stairs.

“Mom, our game is freaking out!” you hear Billy exclaim as they rush into your bedroom.

“Is she asleep?” Tommy asks as you reach your bedroom door.

Wanda’s voice is muffled as she replies, “Mommy’s not sleeping, honey. She’s just resting her eyes.”

You rest a hand on either of the boy’s shoulders, “What did I say about letting mommy rest? I told you she’s not feeling well.”

Billy turns to face you, rubbing his temples, “But, my head feels weird. It’s, like, really noisy. I don’t like it.”

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “My head’s been feeling a little funny, too,” you murmur before ushering the boys out of your bedroom. “It’s okay, honey, let’s let mommy rest, and we can find something for your head.”

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision blurs for a moment and you blink rapidly. You’re sitting on the living room couch with no one in front of you. You find yourself talking to an invisible presence.

“I’m not sure what’s happening to me,” a mix of a sigh and a laugh leaves you. “Wanda is bedbound, and I have two boys to take care of. I don’t what I’m doing, but I do know that they don’t need to see here like this.”

Your vision blurs again and the next thing you know you’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, right where you were. You stumble a little bit, as you shake your head slightly.

As your vision clears, you notice the boys tugging a Wii remote between the two of them, arguing.

“I got to it first!” Tommy grunts, attempting to pull the controller toward himself.

“You always get to it first!” Billy counters.

You take a step between them grabbing the controller. “Boys,” you hiss, “now is not the time for petty arguments. At least wait until I’ve had my coffee for today, please.”

Tommy clings to your side, “We’ll be good.”

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head, “Thank you, honey.”

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and you turn toward the stairs. Wanda shuffles down the stairs, wearing one of your old t-shirts, sweatpants, and a robe. You’re not quite sure how you know it’s your shirt. Billy and Tommy share a look, confusion evident on their faces. Billy shrugs before turning his gaze toward you.

You follow Wanda into the kitchen, watching as she sets the jug of milk on the counter and retrieves a box of cereal out of the cabinet. She pauses as the jug flickers with the same pixelated red energy and changes into a carton.

“Honey, what’re you doing?” you question as you stand on the other side of the counter. Wanda sniffs her spoonful of cereal before bringing it to her mouth.

“Cereal,” she answers as the milk flickers and changes once again.

She shuffles out into the living room and you follow closely. She takes a seat between the boys, and a knock sounds at your door. You take a few steps toward the front door, but Wanda raises her hand and red tendrils surround the door and open it.

“Hi, Agnes,” she calls as Agnes enters your home. “I’d get up,” she says as she begins to laugh, “but I just don’t want to.”

Agnes’s eyes dart from the back of Wanda’s head to yours, and you grimace. She rounds the couch and you follow her, “Hey, boys, why don’t we give your parents some me time?”

Wanda straightens and gasps softly, “Agnes are you sure?”

“Oh, abso-positively,” Agnes beams, reaching a hand out to the boys.

“Do we have to?” Tommy groans as he nears Agnes.

Both you and Wanda nod. You needed to figure out what was going on with her and be there for her. You couldn’t do that if you were looking after the boys and making sure they didn’t destroy your house.

You shoo them along, “It’s okay, boys, I’ll take care of mommy. You go and have fun with Agnes.”

Agnes chuckles, “I promise, I won’t bite.”

And with that, they’re gone. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been alone with Wanda, even though you were with her all of last night. You take a seat beside her on the couch and set a gentle hand on her thigh.

“Are you doing okay, my love?” you ask, gaze soft as you turn to look at her.

She flicks on the TV with a grin, “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

As soon as she answers the potted plant begins flashing just like Billy and Tommy’s game and just like the milk jug. Next is the fireplace and then the TV. Wanda straightens as the various items in your living room begin rapidly changing. With a flick of her wrist, all the items are back as they once were.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and relax? Everything seems a bit… distracting down here,” you suggest as you stand. You hold out your hand for her to take, and she hesitates for just a moment. “C’mon, let me take care of you,” you urge, shaking your hand slightly.

Wanda grasps your hand and you lead her up to your bedroom. Memories of the last time you were here flood your mind, and the thoughts lingering in your mind make your cheeks flush.

You turn to face Wanda, and it appears as if she had the same line of thought as her gaze drifts to the bed, left messy from her groggy exit this morning. Wanda tugs her robe off and throw it to the other side of the room.

You gently grab her hand and usher her toward the bed. The backs of her thighs hit the edge of the bed and she sits, allowing you to tower over her.

You tuck a loose strange of red hair behind her ear, “It’s going to be okay, love.”

She leans into your touch, humming a bit, “You know, I’m usually the one taking care of you.”

“You think you can let me take the reins today?” you ask, grinning.

She pretends to think it over before sighing, “I think I would like that.”

You reach into the bedside drawer and are pleasantly surprised to find exactly what you were looking for. You pull out a silk blindfold and silk restraints, holding them up for Wanda to see. She nods, wordlessly giving you permission to have your way with her.

She lifts her arms so you can tie them up, and your fingers work expertly as they secure her wrists to the headboard. You aren’t sure how your hands know what to do, it’s almost like muscle memory. You reach for the blindfold and gently pull her hair out of its ponytail so you can wrap the blindfold around her head.

“You’re gonna let me know if it’s too much?” you ask as you straddle her waist.

She nods, “I trust you, baby.”

You hum before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It’s sensual and sweet— the exact opposite of the thoughts that are currently running through your mind. Desire courses through your veins as you deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across her bottom lip and ravishing the inside of her mouth.

You groan at the taste of her, sweet like the cereal she had earlier. You pull away, just for a moment, to trail kisses down the side of her, loving the little gasps that leave her.

You slide down her body, trailing your hands over her breasts and down her abdomen. You hook your fingers into the waistband of her sweats, looking up at her through your lashes. She gives a curt nod, sensing your silent request for approval.

In one swift motion, you relieve her of her pants and underwear, leaving her bare. You gasp at the sight as heat pools in your belly. You situate yourself between her thighs, flushing as they automatically spread for you.

“So pretty, mommy,” you whisper, your breath fanning across her core. Her breath catches in her throat as she bucks her hips. You wrap your arms around her thighs, keeping her steady as you press kisses along the insides of her thighs.

She whines as you avoid everywhere except where she needs you.

“Don’t make me beg, baby,” she pants, a hint of warning dancing in her tone. She could easily flip the script and have you be the one begging. All it would take is a flick of her wrist and your reality would change.

The thought causes you to freeze just for a moment. Your… reality?

You’re drawn back into the moment by Wanda bucking her hips in your direction, and you’re reminded of the task at hand.

You run a soothing hand over her thigh, “I’m sorry, mommy. I’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

You press some final kisses before latching your lips onto her core, swiping your tongue through her folds. She tastes exquisite, and you can’t get enough of her. You eagerly lap at her core, taking in all of her. You dip your tongue into her entrance, loving the way she clenches around you.

Those perfect little whines and gasps were escaping her as your mouth worked its magic. You slide a hand up and under her shirt, kneading her breasts and relishing how soft her skin is under your fingertips. You rolled the pliable bud of her nipple through your fingers, eliciting a whine from her.

You slide the index finger of your free hand through her folds, coating it in her slick. You languidly sink your finger into her entrance and then pump it just as slowly. She groans as she throws her head back against the pillow.

You latch your lips onto her clit as you add another finger, increasing your pace. You swirl your tongue around her clit in a way that has her arching her back and whining. You curl your fingers inside her and reach that spongy spot that had her toes curling.

“Love that pretty little mouth of yours, baby,” she whines, clenching against you.

With one final thrust of your fingers, she’s cumming around you, a high-pitched mewl leaving her lips. Her hips rut against you, sending your fingers even deeper inside her. As she cums, red tendrils rush out of her and swirl around the two of you. The room changes rapidly around you, and your vision goes black.

You were a black widow. Natasha Romanoff rescued you from the Red Room, and you became an Avenger. You met Wanda when Ultron lifted Sokovia out of the sky and changed your life completely. Your life was never the same after that, and you’d been by her side ever since. That was until Thanos came and ripped your entire life apart at the seams. He took Wanda from you, and you wanted him dead. You grieved her for those five years, and you grieved everyone you lost afterward. The pain was too great, and Wanda wasn’t the same afterward. You couldn’t do it. She created this idyllic life for you. To keep the pain and the grief and the heartache from hurting you. To keep you with her.

You shake your head and blink rapidly. Your head is pressed against the plush of Wanda’s thighs, and you slowly lift your head. She was still coming down from her high and you remove your fingers from her, earning a sigh from her in return. Slowly, you go through the motions of untying her restraints and removing her blindfold.

She blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the midday light shining through your bedroom window. You press your lips to her, attempting to convey all the emotions that were swirling through your mind.

She cups your cheek, and her eyebrows furrow as she looks over you, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Is this real?”

She straightens, “What do you mean?”

“Please, Wanda,” you beg as your throat tightens, “how did I get here? What’s happening?” She stands and begins throwing her clothes back on, avoiding your gaze. You stand along with her, watching as she moves throughout the bedroom. “Please, just tell me. I won’t be mad, I swear.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she states as she heads out your bedroom door. You follow after her, your thoughts racing a mile a minute.

“I love you, and I don’t care how you made this possible. But, I deserve to know,” you pleaded with her as she walked into the kitchen.

She retrieved a cup from the cabinet, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I told you, I don’t understand what happening and why I can’t fix it,” she says, exasperated as she throws her hands up.

“Wanda!” someone calls as they enter your home. You both straighten as you turn to the front door. Monica comes running into your house, panting.

“What are you doing?” Wanda hisses as she rounds the corner of the counter and steps in front of you.

“Wanda…”

“How did you get in here?”

“Listen to me,” Monica holds up her hands. “This whole thing is about them,” Monica started, pointing to you.

“Get out of my house,” Wanda demands, rage burning in her eyes.

“Hayward was trying to bring them—”

“Don’t talk to me about that. Don’t talk to me about my family,” Wanda orders as red tendrils wrap around Monica and push her out of your house. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

You follow as Wanda lifts Monica into the air for all the neighborhood to see. You are stunned as you watch their interaction play out. You don’t think you’ve seen this anger in Wanda before.

“The drones, the missiles, Pietro?” Wanda questions, lifting Monica higher in the air.

“No, wait, Pietro, no, no, no, that wasn’t us,” Monica stammers.

“All you do is lie!” Wanda shouts as she throws Monica toward the ground.

You rush forward, ready to catch Monica, but she halts her descent. Blue energy rushes out from the ground as she lands and looks up at Wanda with electric blue eyes. Wanda lets out a gasp and grabs your bicep, yanking you behind her.

Monica straightens as she stares down Wanda, “The only lies I’ve told are the ones you put in my mouth.”

A red ball of energy appears in Wanda’s hand, and the air seems to shift. “Careful what you say to me,” she warns.

“Don’t let him make you the villain,” Monica urges, an unspoken understanding of who they’re talking about passing between them.

The ball of energy brightens in her hand and she raises her brows, “Maybe I already am.”

You’re about to step in when Agnes rushes over, “Young lady, I think you overstayed your welcome. They’ve been through enough.”

She wraps an arm around you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. She looped her other arm through Wanda’s and began to tug the two of you away.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Monica began.

“Run along dear,” Agatha urges as you begin to walk toward her house.

“Wanda, you have to take it down,” Monica calls, pleading with her.

“No,” Wanda snaps, turning to point at Monica. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Your thoughts are racing as you get tugged away by Agnes. Wanda wraps a protective hand around your waist and pulls you closer. What have you gotten yourself into?

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x you #wandavision #scarlet witch #agatha harkness #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #no y/n #reader insert #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff smut #mommy wanda

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hanibalistic · 6 months

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WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 12.0k+

warning | car crash / not edited since the first time i posted this story

note | bye-bye baby, i love you baby. more than that body pillow drabble at least.

parts | one, two, three

After the doctor bandaged your hands and did some checkup on you to make sure you had sustained no more damage from the fall, you were glad to hear that they would take up the responsibility to call Minho’s parents instead.

You could not find the energy to talk to anyone about anything—perhaps you would give Yuna an earful about what happened, but she was gone by the time you got picked up by others around the scene. Tears kept falling down your face when you were getting treated, and the doctor in charge stopped asking you if she was hurting you anymore. It was obvious that your concern lay on someone else.

How did this happen? You always thought you would be so agile and smart during emergencies. The cold water of truth once again splashed down on you, reminding you that just because you think you’d be cool doesn’t mean you would be when your thoughts turn into reality. This isn’t the law of attraction, you can’t manifest the car away and you sure as well can’t manifest peace.

You sighed, your lashes wet and your under-eye pained from all the rubbing. It had to happen this way, didn’t it? The car crash was, unfortunately, essential in your drama. If it wasn’t the kidnapping, it if wasn’t the psychotic mother, if it wasn’t even the love triangle, then it would be the goddamn car crash. And as usual, it was infuriating and you wished it hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t that you minded the car crash (you would like to not see it as a plot device so often, though). You just hoped it hadn’t been Minho who got hit because he cared enough to save you from it. And now you were left here, sitting in the hospital lobby and being haunted by all the gut-wrenching components of a drama car crash.

Broken hands, broken legs, brain dead, blindness, mute, deaf, paralyzed, coma, a sudden discovery of cancer, a sudden discovery of related bloodlines, a sudden discovery of a terminal illness. You squealed under your breath as you went down the list, approaching the most common trait of them all—amnesia.

Sure, dramas usually have this rule where all you needed to endure was one to two months of hardships where Minho would revert to hating your guts, and then he would either fall in love with you again or you would give him the magical kiss of memory revival and he would suddenly remember your past together.

But those are often so unpredictable! You have watched hundreds of dramas that spin down several different lanes, and all of them have left you heartbroken one way or another. And by now you have learned how much different it would be for you to have to experience such events by yourself! If you could cry so hard because of what those pixelated people are going through, how would you begin to cope with experiencing it yourself?

A sob forced itself up to your throat, your chest sustained the pain of holding it in for too long it felt like you swallowed too many things at once, it felt like you were suffocating. You were afraid. So far, you have skated through every event with a very humorous coping mechanism, one that never does any long-term help. But this was different, this could last forever.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be the forever you experience. You two have just begun, you two were just starting to love each other loudly and happily. You haven’t had enough yet, you wanted more time! The gate to Heaven shouldn’t be allowed to close itself at people’s faces!

“Hello? Excuse me?”

You looked up at the doctor standing in front of you and immediately stood up, wiping your eyes on cue even though you had passed the point of crying and ceasing the chaos in your head. “Yes! How–how is Minho?”

“Good. He only got a few fractured ribs, a bad concussion, and a badly scraped forehead. He didn’t suffer any damage to his internal organs and there are no signs of internal bleeding,” the doctor explained. “He just needs to rest for now, but I estimate that he will wake up sooner than expected. You can wait in his room if you want to.”

You heard everything she said crystal clear. You even went so far as to repeat it in your head. Fractured ribs and concussion, ouchie but at least there wasn’t any internal damage that always sounded so life-threatening. This should be great news, but why did it sound so suspicious to you?

“Really? You are sure, doctor?” you asked, “He didn’t like…lost his eyesight or paralyzed or… I don’t know, cancer? Amnesia?”

“This is a car crash, I don’t think it will cause him cancer,” she replied calmly. If she was annoyed at your stupid questions, she was trained well not to show it on her face. “And no, we did all the scans. There is nothing else, I assure you.”

“But I swear I saw blood back then, what does that mean?”

“He scraped his forehead when he fell. We did sutures on the wound, which is going to leave him a scar but we can try to minimize it as best as we can,” she said.

Huh, bummer. Maybe I should order another car crash.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time. My apologies.

You thanked the doctor quickly then, wanting to do nothing more than to see him. But before you could leave, she held you back and shifted through her pocket for something she intended to give you.

"The paramedic stopped me and told me to give this back to Mr.Lee when you guys went in, but I assume it is yours?” she said as she pulled out a dark blue velvet box and handed it to you.

It was a ring box, with your ring stored securely in it. You felt a rush of tears piling at your eyes again but you held them down and nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still for me.”

“Pretty sure it will. He wouldn’t buy you a ring if he didn’t care enough to jump in front of a car for you.” She shrugged. “His room is right around the corner, you can ask the nurses around.”

You bid her goodbye then, watching her rush away as her pager beeped. Then you returned your attention to the ring. You took it out of the box and slipped it on, admiring the way it still fits perfectly around your finger. You became his and you would always be from now on; wearing the ring is an act of taking a physical vow. Clasping the box shut, you put it in your pocket carefully before heading to where the doctor pointed you.

This was painstakingly familiar, Minho thought as he opened his eyes once again to welcome the flood of nausea and ugly ceiling lights. He hasn’t been in the hospital for a long time but he could tell he was in one from the saturated smell of alcohol and the overall sickly atmosphere. Shutting his eyes immediately after waking up, he groaned hoarsely as he recalled what events led up to this moment and realized he would have to be bedridden once more.

What a shame, you would have to take care of him again—hey, hold on a second! Where were you?

Minho snapped his eyes open, panic overwhelming the revolting weight laid atop of his body and brain. He did push you out of the way, right? He remembered he did, but he couldn’t be sure if you both were lucky enough to not have a second careless driver grace the crossroad. Or what if you bumped your head too hard on the ground and got a bad concussion? Or what if he didn’t push you far away enough for the car not to hit you?

He turned his head over to the door, wanting to call for a nurse and ask them millions of unprepared questions, but he stopped in his tracks abruptly when his gaze shivered downwards and he found you sleeping with your head on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even registered the feeling of his hand being held by yours, the pulse oximeter and the IV on his left arm had taken away most of his sense of touch.

Calming down, Minho relaxed against the pillows and exhaled in relief. He would much rather have you here and sleeping in an uncomfortable position than laying on a bed with a heart monitor beeping next to your bed. Lowering his head so he could look at you, he softened at the way your cheek was squeezed against your forearm and the fading redness visible under your once tearful eyes. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch you right now, the desire was immeasurable.

His mellow eyes trailed over to your hand, the one laying on the side of his legs, and he frowned slightly at the heavy white gauze wrapped around your lower palm. Getting a scrape when he pushed you away like that is likely inevitable; it got the job done, thankfully, he hoped it didn’t hurt you too much. He was promoted to move his hand when he saw yours, the one you had your own pinned down on the bed softly, and it was then when he felt the roughness of the gauze rubbing against his skin as well.

With a grimace, he looked over to where your hands were stacked on top of each other, and he held his breath when he finally noticed the shining diamond sitting prettily on your finger.

You put the ring back on.

The box must have flown out of his pocket when he got hit. He had been taking it with him everywhere recently just in case the perfect timing to give it back to you turns out to be a place where he couldn’t have access to it immediately. Besides, holding the box in his hand had always reminded him of you, and he liked being reminded of you from time to time throughout the day.

It made him feel less jittery, less annoyed at the general things, and it got him excited to return home at the end of the day.

Minho couldn’t think about anything else at the moment; all that flooded his mind was how much more fulfilling it was to see the ring on your finger rather than in the box, how things should have been this way all along, and what it all meant now that you’ve worn it back.

Forgiveness for his aloofness in the past, a firm acceptance of this marriage, and that he has become someone who can be loved by you.

His shaky eyes were filled with droplets, creating a glassy sight in his already glittery eyes. Feeling you stir on your spot, he slowly moved his head up so he could watch you wake from your slumber. Your grogginess went away as soon as you met eyes with him, and instead of an excited squeal or a surprised gasp, the only thing that glossed over you was an immense relief.

Looking at you, Minho breathed out a quiet laugh, one that even you couldn’t hear. He felt your hand around him still, but your grip more secure now. In an attempt to chase the tears away from your eyes, he joked, “Stop frowning. Your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I’m glad you still remember that,” you laughed, lightly shoving his leg as your voice echoed the room. He gave you a knowing hum as if telling you it would be impossible for him to ever forget the unfunny jokes you liked to tell around the house so much, they were practically engraved in his mind.

Sitting up straighter now, your entire demeanor became gentler. Your senses less alert, your mouth quirked into a permanent smirk, and your fluffy gaze paying a constant focus on Minho.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” you asked slowly, propping yourself up on your intertwined hands and smiling brightly up at him.

“No,” he replied.

“Who am I?”

“You are [Name]. You have bad humor, you forced pizza down my throat once, and you made me like soap opera,” he said, finding his voice back as more words gradually left his lips. And then he paused for a moment, a dramatic moment where he eyed you lovingly, watching as your brows raised in anticipation. “And I think I might be your husband.”

A joyous sob came in the form of giggle and Minho whined at the strands of tears that danced down your cheeks. He reached out to you, wanting to wipe your tears away for you, but you stopped him and told him not to move. Instead, you got up from the chair and scooted closer to the edge of the bed so you two could be closer at face level.

You slipped your arm under this head and the other reached to cup his jaw. You kissed his forehead, once and twice, then you pulled away just enough for you to look at him fully. Ah, you were so filled to the brim with affection for him; it was so new to you but so real the same time that you were not afraid of diving headfirst into it.

“I think you are my husband,” you whispered with a small nod.

He smiled. “Thank you for having me again.”

You gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss him again. This time you didn’t stop at his forehead. Your soft lips trailed down his eyes, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and before you could kiss him on the lips as you had always wished, you pulled away with a puff of nervous breath. You stared into his eyes, feeling the same longing in the way his hand found your wrist and he held onto you.

What are you waiting for? For permission? For him to get better? Go on, kiss him.

You two will be fine, you won’t hurt each other.

Pressing your lips against his tentatively, you felt a rush of adrenaline racing around your lungs. It made you feel hypersensitive, like a supernatural who could hear and see and feel beyond the human spectrum—the forced nudge of your noses, the beating in your ears, the softness of his lips, your quickened breathes, his soft locks flowing between your fingers, his grip on your wrists tightening to keep you with him.

It was all so overwhelming, the intimacy and the desperation. The emotions came in tiny waves, similar to the way the ocean feels when you stepped your feet on the shore. It drowns you out, it lets you breathe, it drowns you out again. You kiss, you breathe, and you kiss him again. No matter how many times the cycle continues, no matter how many times the seawater brushes past your skin, you get surprised by it and you keep yearning for more.

Your heart was hanging by a thread, any minute now it would leave your chest and land itself straight into Minho’s palms.

Hesitantly pulling away, you kept your mouths close enough for him to still feel you against his lips. He leaned in a little, breathing out a whine that made you realize your heart was already in his hands long ago. Swallowing down a breath, you whispered, “Do you remember, that I love you?”

He nodded, his lashes fluttering as he glanced down at your lips again and back up at your eyes, “I will now.”

Minho’s heart was yours too, long ago, and you’ve learned that.

You jolted awake in the middle of the night. Heavy breaths left your lips as you sat up against the arm of the couch. Your heart was beating quickly like you had just run a mile around the track field.

It was nothing like the way you used to be yanked out of sleep. It wasn’t like your head hitting against your desk in a boring lecture, or when you brutally died in a bad dream. This one was different. You were not falling asleep and you weren’t dreaming. It was different in a way that all you saw during your ‘consciousness’ was blackness, paired with a familiar voice you never thought you would hear again.

“Mom?” you whispered as you quickly scanned your surroundings, looking for the sight of your mother.

But you were still in the hospital room. You were sitting on the couch located at the corner of the room, with your phone and leftover takeaway food resting on top of the small table before you. The moon has gone up and the sky has turned darker than night, you glanced over and found Minho sleeping on the bed as he should.

You were back in where you were supposed to be, but your mother’s voice felt genuinely real during your supposed dream. Sitting up straighter and putting your feet down on the ground, you ran your hands through your hair to force yourself into concentration. Why did you jolt awake at your mother’s voice? There should be no reason for you to find her a threat unless you felt like you were being pulled out of this world.

Like you were falling, like you were falling out of this place, like you were leaving this world and back to reality.

“Oh god,” you gasped as you snapped your head up, your eyes wide.

Great, you were finally piecing the puzzle together, [Name]. I’m glad.

You have exhausted your one near-death experience when you almost got hit by a car yesterday. If Minho hadn’t pushed you to the side and you got hit then things would have been different; you’d be hit by the car, got sent to a hospital to get fixed, and nothing would have happened. Alas, Minho did push you out of the way, and now you have reached the limit, which was only one. If you remember clearly, the way you arrived to this world was by waking, so when you return home, you would find yourself waking up as well.

Except this time, you would be alone, and Minho never existed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated under your breath, biting your nails in an attempt to ease out the spiraling anxiety permanent in your head. It was all hitting you too quickly—the near-death theory, the memories you have of your real life, or the lack thereof, feeling like you were being pulled out of your own body, going back to reality, leaving Minho here.

I reckon this would be better for you, actually. The anxiety keeps you awake, and the pacing around keeps you active and forces your eyes open. It would be sooner or later, though, when you find yourself dozing off due to the inability to stay awake any longer. That’s when things get bad for you because as soon as you fall asleep, you will wake up in a whole different place. A familiar place, but different, nonetheless.

Oh, but how could this be? You have just worn the ring, you two have just kissed for the first time. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from Minho and you didn’t want to leave him yet! You never want to leave him ever! There was still so much for you two to do! You needed more time. You both needed more time!

“[Name]?”

“Huh–oh, hey, Minho.” You moved over to him with a smile. “Did I wake you?”

He could see the panic in your eyes and he frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep–”

“Oh, I–” Your bottom lips quivered.

How long would you be able to hide it before he finds out? How long could you stay awake and act normal for? How would you be able to explain why you always look so exhausted? Minho should know the truth, he deserved to know that you have been hiding something important from him the whole time. Besides, it would be such a shame if you leave him unprepared for your departure. He’s the one who has to remember, after all.

“I’m not leaving!”

Oh, yell at me, why don’t you?

“Hey,” Minho grabbed a hold of your hand, his brows furrowed up at you, “what is going on?”

You stayed still to pull yourself together for a few seconds, breathing slowly, and then you looked back at him. “I have something to tell you.”

He could sense the solemnity in your voice and it terrified him. You had shown him a large range of your emotions before, from playful to angry to loving, but he has never seen you look so helpless. Tugging at your hand, he kissed your knuckles softly and nodded. “What is it?”

And you told him everything, struggling to make your story coherent despite only having the absolute truth escaping your lips. You told him from the very moment when you found yourself waking up next to him, and then when you were still figuring out what to do with ‘your’ past broken relationship, to adapting quickly and blending into this world. Everything up until this point, when you were so close to forgetting where you came from only to have reality force itself back into your head again.

It was taking Minho a long time to comprehend all the information thrown at him. When it seemed like he was finally done, he moved his eyes over to you and he tilted his head with a sigh. “That is a very deliberate joke.”

Right, you should have anticipated a reaction like that. It would be too easy if he brought it immediately. You pulled a face. “It’s not a joke, Minho.”

“Oh, so you are trying to tell me you aren’t from this universe and you aren’t even who you are before you came here?” he said, confusion evident on his tired face and his voice rising as he went on. “You are basically suggesting parallel universes exist?”

“No–I mean, yeah? It could be true?” You shrugged, and then you shook your head. “The point is–I can feel myself leaving this place and I am pretty sure as soon as I fall asleep, my time will be up. I just felt like I should tell you because you deserve to know.”

Despite how serious you sounded throughout your entire explanation, he just couldn’t bring himself to take you seriously. It was too absurd, the whole concept of waking up in another place. Sure, you did suddenly change overnight and you did feel much different than you did before, and there had been certain very subtle hints that could back your point up, but it was not enough for Minho to believe in what you just told him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name]. You’ve been really tired,” he said again, trying to persuade you into going back to bed.

Disappointment flashed before your eyes. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you looked away, unsure what else you could do to convince him. The only thing you were sure about was that you absolutely could not fall asleep, no matter how tired you were. You planned to hang on for as long as you could, and hopefully, Minho would come around and believe you by then.

“I am just gonna go take a walk and come back,” you said, smiling faintly. “You should go back to sleep though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You can sleep with me on the bed if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I can’t,“ you said. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you moved away from the bed slowly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up with breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You closed the door, leaving him alone in the darkroom. Minho pouted, he was thinking too much to be able to just fall asleep now. The fact that he couldn’t just sleep sort of gave him a sense that he was leaning towards believing it and he was just in the stage of denial. If he really thought it was a joke then he should have no problem brushing it off, right?

He leaned back against the pillow, his fingers grasping at the air and his head filled.

Would you really leave? Just like that? More importantly, would he be able to tell if you left?

"Did you sleep?”

“They did not,” Changbin replied casually as he slammed a plastic bag on top of the table. Leaning down and proceeding to take out the takeaway food, he handed you a small box of food and looked up at Minho again. “They were up the whole night.”

“Did you seriously stay up the whole night?” Minho asked, brows furrowed at the unexpected visit by Changbin. He wanted to ask why he decided to tag along with you, but he figured it was much more important to know what happened with you last night.

“I did,” you sighed, shoving the chicken into your mouth and moaning at its delicious taste.

After realizing it would be almost impossible for you to stay awake on your own, which was such bullshit because you swore you used to have the ability to pull all-nighters like it was nothing, you ended up calling your last resort—Seo Changbin. Feeling bad that you had to wake him up in the middle of the night, you gave him the same explanation you gave Minho, and like your husband, he was extremely reluctant to accept it.

But you weren’t sleeping at all. And while Changbin had the suspicion that you were just taking this 'joke’ a little too far, he decided to humor you for the night and stayed up with you. And you spent the night over at his home, doing anything and everything to keep yourselves from falling asleep.

“Didn’t they tell you about the story?” Changbin asked, popping open a can of soda and looking at Minho as he drank. “I still don’t believe it but they were so hell-bent on not sleeping, I might just let them have it.”

“What–Changbin, I thought you believed me!” you whined, punching his behind and shoving him to the side.

“If I come over and tell you I’m not actually me and I came from another dimension, would you have believed me?” Changbin retorted, rubbing the spilled drink off his chin.

“I don’t have to because first of all, I met you for the first time at the shopping mall and I know nothing about you,” you pointed out. “Second of all, I am going through it right now. I am telling you, if I fall asleep, you will never see me again.”

“You don’t have proof that you aren’t you, [Name],” Minho chimed in, sighing in defeat as he slumped back against the bed.

Changbin pointed at you with wide eyes then, nodding in agreement. Sitting up from the couch, you turned your head to find Minho grimacing at you, and you heave a sigh. Proof. Where the hell would you find the proof to explain that you are who you are? Identity isn’t a tangible thing, no amount of paperwork can shape it for you.

“Look, I am telling the truth, alright? Or at least I am saying what I know,” you said as you grabbed a box and headed over to the bed. You handed the food to Minho, who refrained from throwing a mini tantrum the way he did before due to Changbin’s presence. Sitting down on the chair you had also pulled over, you sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to take the risk and sleep.”

You looked at Minho, your brows raising slowly to display a vulnerably honest expression. No malice was hidden behind your eyes, your gaze only directed at him. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho.”

His munching halted. He could feel a hint of unease at the bottom of his stomach, possibly due to what you said and the soft way you said it. As if you were afraid, cautious. Lowering his hand, he inhaled, kind of wishing his inner voice would kick him in the head and give him a little nudge to the right path.

But really, what more was there left to say, Minho? [Name] has said all they could.

“You are not going leave me,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “Not consciously, no.”

Minho pursed his lips. Think carefully; for him to convince himself of what you said, he has to nitpick the past and the present, like separating different colored peas with chopsticks.

Starting from the day you met him, you said you have no idea what his name is and you woke up in his bed even though he had this terrible rule of not sleeping together. That was one. Then you forgot about the marriage; you were surprised by the ring on your hand so much that you even asked him for the price. That was two. You went into his closet, even when you were banned from touching certain things that were his. That was three. These were all rules to be broken, but the old you never had the guts to do that. It didn’t make sense for the courage to suddenly appear.

Asking for a divorce and acting like you didn’t know it was arranged, forgetting that your parents were dead, completely unbothered by Yuna’s presence, suddenly knowing how to cook up a whole meal, eating lots of greasy food, profoundly cursing, being playful enough to give him nicknames and make bad jokes.

Aside from that, he could physically tell, now that he thought about it with a clearer head. You were less timid and much louder. Sure, you have your moments of tenderness, but overall you felt much more energized and much happier than before. It was a difference in your presence—you didn’t use to light up the room when you walk into one, but now all Minho could see was you whenever you come into his line of sight. And that was before he fell so in love with you.

The pieces were adding up to an unbelievable story.

Minho looked up at Changbin, his gaze hardened. “Can you leave us alone for a moment?”

You widened your eyes at his troubled look, then you turned around and urged your best friend away as well, promising to find him later when your private talk ends. Changbin rolled his eyes and unwillingly left, and then it was finally just you and him.

Minho started without waiting. “Let me recap everything. You came here not knowing who I am or what this place is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “does this mean you believe me now?”

“Wait–why didn’t you tell me before then?” he asked.

“I thought I would leave soon and return to where I came from. I didn’t expect to stay so long,” you said. “Also, drama taught me it is better to keep my identity hidden.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “So, you suspect that the way for you to go back is through a near-death experience?”

“And falling asleep later,” you hummed. “This one I learned out of instinct, but I’m sure it’s happened before on some show.”

Minho scoffed, “You can’t trust dramas all the time. They’re made up.”

“Yeah, but this feels too much like one for me to ignore it! I mean, look at this!” You pointed at him, smiling bitterly. “Look at you! I would have never been able to snatch a guy like you if I was back in my world. I was a huge loner. All I did was work and have fleeting crushes.”

He watched as you lowered your arm, your smile dimming significantly. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you love me or who used to be me.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “I am a new person to you now, right?”

Minho licked his lower lip. That problem has never crossed his mind before since it was so obvious that he loved you. His affection was never there, it wasn’t affection for you before. But then he started developing feelings of his own for you, steaming from a threatening turn where he might lose the care and obedience he was used to receiving. He just used to like being loved by 'you’, now he liked loving you; he liked the mutual feelings you two shared.

If all were true, then there was a whole world behind you he’s never known. You previous life, your friends, your fleeting crushes.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

You stood up from the chair and carefully climbed onto the spot next to him. You back hit against the side rail, preventing you from falling off, while Minho pushed his hand against your waist to keep you close to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh leaving your lips quietly.

“You know, I thought you were funny, back when you first came here,” he said. “A little infuriating, yes, but amusing nonetheless.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you commented, giggling when he cleared his throat and nudged the top of your head with his jaw.

“You could have totally snatched me up even if we are not in this setting,” he said. “You aren’t like other people. You treat me differently.”

Ah, and the iconic line finally decided to make its appearance. I was hoping it’d at least happen once for you to hear it because you would only be able to hear it from Minho’s mouth.

“What do you mean different? I treat you the same way everyone treats you!” you said, suppressing a chuckle. You weren’t sure if that line had boosted your ego but it sure did make you feel quite special, as cliché as it was, but honestly? As a society, we should all establish that clichés don’t matter.

“No, you were so casual and honest. I think you are the only person who has given me nicknames aside from my old friends back in high school.” He nodded with a shaky laugh. He patted your waist in a beckoning motion, seeming excited. “And you’re even more different than others now because you are the only person I love, in that special kind of way.”

“What are you, five? Special kind of way–that’s lame!” you exclaimed, laughter escaping in between. When you quieted down, you pressed yourself closer to him and looked up.

He only glanced down when he felt your lips at the side of his jaw. And he kissed you then, leaning his head down eagerly to capture your lips. You were careful with moving around, your hand going up to stop at the nape of his neck, rubbing comfortingly as your mouths danced with each other sensually.

This could never be enough. Minho wanted more than this, he thought as he tugged you closer to him, feeling your chest against his side. This could never be enough. He wanted to do more than kissing you in a hospital bed. He wanted to kiss you under the moon, to kiss you at home, to kiss you during a spontaneous snack run at midnight. He wanted to eat junk food and get emotional about fictional characters with you; he wanted to see you read books while he worked on the side.

Minho wants you with him, always.

You pulled away, gasping a little at how teary his eyes had suddenly become. You didn’t need to ask why. You could already tell. “Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to.” Minho let out a shaky breath. “If I do then I will have to accept the fact that you might leave me soon.”

A sobbing noise spiked from the back of your throat as you reached up to peck his lips. “I will try my best to stay awake for as long as I can, Minho.”

He nodded, even though the fact alone broke him, the fact that you two have to settle for 'as long as you can.’

You jolted awake again, this time in Minho’s workroom with a new book held loose in your hands.

You kept the lights on for the sake of having an awake atmosphere even though you knew very well that would do nothing to help your exhaustion. Looking up from the couch, you found it hard to just squint at the clock hanging above your head, but you saw that it was long past midnight already.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch as you kicked your legs in frustration. You were officially three days in, all three days you went without a lick of sleep. And you put in lots and lots of effort to accomplish that, such as eating, doing yoga, shopping, scrolling the internet, and indulging yourself in many new shows filled with more than seven seasons of emotions.

It was painful. Your body felt heavy and your eye bags were probably getting bigger as you went on. Your mind was slow, you zone out too much and you kept dozing off. The only thing keeping you from falling into slumber was the sickening feeling of you astral projecting out of this place.

You didn’t want to cry though. Not only would it make you feel even more exhausted, but it would also make you feel weak, and you didn’t want to feel pathetic that way if you were doing this so you could stay with the love of your life.

Huffing out a groan, you got off the couch and left the room. You were much more familiar with the house by now, you could practically walk anywhere with your eyes closed as long as you knew where you started. You walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly before a pair of doors.

Minho’s closet was as you remembered it was. Black and white, very minimalistic, with clothing racks lining up against the wall. One thing has changed, though, he has opened up a space for clothes you got him from time to time. The ones you thought he would look good in and he occasionally wears around in the house when he didn’t need to be in formal attire.

You flipped through the clothes, remembering where each one of them came from with a smile. It was quite funny as well, to see how the clothes gradually grew to be more accurate in his size with the more you brought.

Pulling a sweater off the rack, you admired the soft material by kneading it between your fingers, then you hugged it close to your chest. You brought the fabric close to your face, inhaling the warm scent you’ve gotten used to smelling on your own clothes as well.

You never tried to look into what detergent the housekeeper used to wash your clothes, but you always thought it had an artificial smell of some type of flower you have never smelt the actual scent of before. It stopped mattering now that you have gotten so accustomed to the smell. It just has the scent of a home, and home is Minho for you.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled out to control your quickened breathing. A sob threatened to break out but you muffled it with his sweater, clinging onto it like it was your life-line.

It has been so difficult for you. Staying awake beyond your limit and trying to smile with everyone else; you couldn’t even tell Minho how you felt when he asked if you were okay because a part of you dreaded that he’d let you go. You felt alone, worrying and fearing for the day you would leave this place.

Standing in his closet and having his scent so close to you pushed you past the breaking point. All you knew was that you wanted to stay with Minho, and knowing how sleep would be inevitable made you cry.

The past three days have only been about that. You couldn’t afford to think about anything else.

You stood there alone and sobbed for as long as your body allowed. When you were done, you dropped the sweater on the rack and took off your own just so you would wear it.

It felt warm, big and warm, just like Minho.

You felt another sob bubbling up.

Minho could tell you have been crying when you arrived to visit him for the night.

It has become increasingly difficult for him not to notice how worn out you were, not to mention having to neglect it and pretend as if nothing was happening. Although you were the one who was so determined to keep yourself in this place, and of course, he too wanted you to stay here, he couldn’t help the gruesome guilt that rips through his veins whenever he sees that defeated state of yours.

You were dozing off on the couch again. He could somehow feel it whenever you’ve got your eyes closed, it was like a tingly sense that shoots down his spine. Even then, he always looks over to check if you are, and you were this time, your chin squished against the base of your palm with your elbow propped up against the armrest of the couch. You were dozing and waking, an indefinite cycle that would only stop until you reach the point of insanity, he supposed.

When this first happened, when he first saw you with your eyes closed and unresponsive, he used to have this knot in his stomach that would tighten harshly in a way that makes him hallucinate pain. The fear used to make him want to throw up, it used to make his face go red and his fist curl until the nails dig deep into his skin. It feigns an anxiety attack for him, and God knows how to properly handle those.

“[Name]!” he repeatedly called for you, feeling the knot inside of him release its chokehold slowly the longer he has to call for you. But you woke up eventually, your body falling to the side and the sudden impact yanking you out to sleepiness.

You looked around and heaved a sigh, whether it was a relieved one was uncertain to everyone, including you. Turning over to look at Minho, you tilted your head and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your posture was terrible, like usual but much worse now that your shoulders were hunched all over and your neck cranked in longing to take a decent break. Your body was fidgety, a habit you picked up to keep yourself active in movement so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The dark circles under your eyes were starting to get more visible than the smile Minho had always paid more attention, and there was no light in your eyes, just a pit of shadowy doom.

Maybe you were trying your best, but you couldn’t look at him like you love him anymore; your eyes physically could not manifest the affection you felt.

This was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t, you certainly would never blame him for this, but Minho still felt like he was the one putting you through all of this. And he hated seeing you so out of place because you haven’t slept in days, and for what? To get a few more days with him? Honest to God, your mind was barely with him these days anyway.

Minho pursed his lips into a thin line, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. And he shook his head. “You should go to sleep. This is killing you.”

You were quick to turn down his suggestion. “No.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, you are going to have to go either way so why not make that earlier?” he asked, raising his voice, causing your defenses to build up quickly.

You stood up from your seat, your eyes wide in a glare for the first time in days. “What is your problem, Minho? Do you want me to leave so bad?”

“I don’t–“ he breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes to keep his temper low now that yours have been shorter than usual. “I don’t want you to leave. If I get to choose, I will always choose to have you stay here with me, but look at yourself!”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re tired, you are so tired. You have been crying, you eat slow, your temper is short, you barely react to anything anybody says. Even the nurse who came in to check up on me this afternoon asked if you are okay because you don’t look okay!” he exclaimed. Then, sucking in a breath as if gargling his words, he exhaled through a soft huff before he whispered, “I love you, [Name], so much. But not like this. Not when you are so miserable because of me.”

If his existence is causing you pain then he’d rather not have it. As selfish as he wanted to be, he would choose to let you go.

Your arms dropped to your side and you rolled your eyes up. You have told him the same thing before. God, you felt like one of those female leads who cry every single episode, it was so enraging. Everything you have sought to not become, you’ve become it.

Minho moved to the side on his bed, leaving you a spot, and he called out, “Come here.”

You looked back down at him, your sight blurred at the thought of what he meant to do. You were going to walk over, he would wrap you in his arms, and you would fall asleep to his warmth. He would still be here but you would be somewhere else. It would be quick, it would happen before you even know it.

“Come here, please?” he asked again, softly. “Let me hold you.”

You rubbed your eyes and moved over slowly. He helped you as you climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to his side with your head laid on his shoulder and his arms securely around your torso. He squeezed your arm and breathed out a joking giggle, mentioning something about you getting chubbier and earning a hit on the chest in return.

His fingers shifted through your hair when you looked up at him, and he smiled down at you like nothing was going wrong. Eyeing his lips once, you didn’t hesitate to reach up for a long, loving kiss, one where your tears were mixed with the taste of his mouth.

When you pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually pretty funny. I am the one who got injured but here we are, crying over you leaving instead.”

You laughed silently, bringing him closer to you. Minho has steady breathing but his heart beat quickly. It rattled against your ears, reminding you that he was as nervous as you were about losing each other. Your senses were shutting down slowly, ready to go into rest when you finally gain the sleep your body has been screaming at you to get.

“I’m sleepy, Minho,” you muttered, adjusting your head.

“I know. You can sleep, it’s okay,” Minho hummed. “You can go. I’m gonna be fine.”

You licked your lower lip, the dryness giving you a sticky sensation. “Love them as much as you love me, alright?”

He couldn’t do that. But he wouldn’t tell you, he wanted you to go without any troubles lingering in your head. He wanted you to leave happily, or as happy as you could be.

Kissing your forehead, he felt your breathing ease up. His hand rubbed your back soothingly as he asked, “Will you remember that I love you?”

You didn’t answer.

Minho stirred uncomfortably in the single hospital bed. As his sense slowly returned to him, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you from falling off. It was nighttime outside, and he supposed a nurse dropped by and turned the lights off when he saw you both sleeping. He could barely remember what happened before he was knocked out.

You shifted slightly by him, head nuzzling against his chest before looking up to find the owner of the body you were cuddling.

“[Name]?” Minho called.

The person jolted from their place. Feet landing coldly on the floor, they fixed their hair and took a wide step away from the bed. “Minho! I’m sorry!”

His heart dropped. There was his answer: he could tell.

Same face. Same body. Same voice.

Not you.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned at the pain oozing at your side. What the hell happened? You could see that you were back in your room, which was weird because the last time you checked, you were on your way to work. You remembered waking up late and rushing out of your apartment, and then everything simply went blank from there.

“Oh, you’re awake! I thought you died or something!”

You sat up on your bed and furrowed your brows at your brown-haired friend. Rubbing your eyes, you yawned and scanned your room, taking in its unfamiliarity with intense suspicion before you turned back to your smiley friend and asked, “Did you move my shit?”

“I just got here like five minutes ago after your mom called me,” he deadpanned. “I was cooking you chicken porridge! She said you blacked out and slept for three days straight, you sleepyhead!”

“Three days–Chan what?” You got off your bed and headed over to your desk where your phone was. You weren’t sure why you needed to check the time, it held no significance to how you were in deep trouble with your boss for ditching work for three days. “Why did no one wake me?”

He handed you a glass of water first, seeing how frantic you appeared right after waking up in the middle of the day. You received it—snatched it—and quickly gulped down the liquid, feeling a sense of relief rush through you when the water hit your throat.

“We tried but you were knocked out cold.” He shrugged. “If you are worried about work, don’t. I talked to our manager for you already. I even exaggerated the part where you almost got in a car crash and died so you needed time to recover from it.”

The water spilled from the glass when you choked in shock. Your brows furrowed harshly as you pulled the glass away, causing more water to flow out of the cup, and you yelled at Chan, “What? I almost got in a car crash?”

He gave you a slow laugh, more concerned than annoyed that you’ve made a mess and yelled at him in the past five seconds. “You almost got hit by a car the other day when you left for work. You were looking at your phone and not paying attention. I had to pull you away from the road! Did you forget all of that?”

You placed the glass of water down on your desk, rubbing your mouth with your forearm harshly. As you brought your hand closer to your mouth, a painful scratch eliciting a yelp from you. Moving your hand away from your face, your eyes trailed up your arm and they widened when you saw the diamond ring located on your fourth finger. You cursed out loud, gaining Chan’s attention, and when his eyes moved towards what you were looking, he too mirrored your confused look.

“What is this!” you asked, looking at him.

“What is what–woah! Did you drunk buy this?” he asked, moving closer to examine the ring on your hand. “You need to return it. You’re crazy. You can’t afford this!”

“I know I can’t afford this,” you exclaimed, glaring at him in defeat. “But I swear I don’t remember ever buying this! Did you see me wearing this when I almost got hit by a car?”

Chan paused for a moment to think. He hadn’t really noticed back then, he was too busy trying to keep your phone-obsessed ass from dying. But if you didn’t have it back then, there should be no way for you to have it now. You have been bedridden, you could not have possibly gotten drunk within the last couple of days, and you would never buy a ring like that when you were sober.

“Did you steal it from someone?” he suggested, feeling the wrath of your impatience as he stepped away from you in precaution. “Oh but you couldn’t–“

“No! I don’t know where this ring came from, Chan,” you exclaimed, showing him your hands and grimacing at how perfectly it fit around your finger. “Also, can’t you humor the idea that maybe someone proposed to me?”

“Someone with the money to buy that ring? Uh, no,” he said honestly, putting his hands on his hips in a comical way.

Brushing him off, you slumped back onto your bed with your arm covering your eye. “Whatever. I’ll find out where I got it from somehow.”

“Or you can sell it,” Chan suggested.

You chuckled at the thought. Imagine the amount of money you could get from selling that ring. You did not know about diamonds but you could tell when one looks expensive. Bringing your hand up above your face, you shifted your hand to observe the ring more carefully. A weird sense of comfort rushed through you, making you relax further into your mattress. Coming after the comfort was a very bad sense of nostalgia, one that makes your heart ache for something you couldn’t remember.

“Actually, maybe I’ll keep it,” you muttered, eyes hazy the more you stared at the ring. “I think I want to keep it.”

“Okay.” Chan shrugged at the side. Moving over to your desk, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I need to go back to work. Lunch is over for me already.”

“Thank you,” you hummed from the bed, nodding. “I’ll come back to work as soon as I can.”

“Before you get fired, at least.” He eyed you carefully. You laid motionless on your bed, completely out of it. He nudged your feet with his own to catch your attention. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am fine, Chan.” You rolled your eyes. “Stop nagging.”

He scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright?”

The nostalgia hit like a rush this time and you held down a flinch. For some reason, Chan didn’t sound so much like him when he said that, but you couldn’t tell whose voice that was. When you turned your head to look at him, your gaze shifted in rapid sequences, like frames changing on a television screen. Chan’s silhouette shifted in blurry motion into a man of slightly smaller but more visibly muscular stature. You felt your body jolt in recognition.

Recognition? Pause. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Let me rewind it.

Chan scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

You sniffed away a potential sneeze, hearing Chan’s giggle from your ridiculous expression. Throwing your head back against your bed, you waved your hand at him. “Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

You hummed loudly in response, not bothering to look up at him. When you heard the front door lock, you groaned out a frustrated sigh and turned to your side. It has been a weird couple of minutes; you almost got in a car crash but you forgot, you slept for three days and you had no idea, you got a diamond ring on your hand which you have no recollection of ever getting.

You brought your hand up and frowned. The ring was heavy on your hand and it would most likely disrupt your sleep. But there was something else—the nostalgia that was lapping at your chest one wave after another. A feeling beyond your imagination, resting against your heart carefully yet it rattles you like nothing ever has.

“Where did you come from?” you whispered to the diamond ring sitting perfectly on your finger.

You decided not to take it off.

Never in a million years did Minho think he’d end up relying on Changbin, but he has no other option due to knowing a shared secret.

“How are you feeling?” Changbin asked after he plopped down on the study room couch.

Scatters of paperwork piled on the table were deliberately placed messily to distract Minho from his worries. If his eyes were occupied, his mind may be too. Turning the chair, he eyed Changbin nonchalantly by the desk. “My spouse left me.”

“Not good. Noted!” Changbin exclaimed with a single clap of his hands. He ended up awkwardly rubbing them as they laid themselves on his thighs.

Silence emerged, much like every other time they’ve hung out together. If he could call it anything different, Changbin would consider these moments more mandatory emotional check-ups than hanging out with good friends. Not only was Minho not a good friend, not even with such a golden opportunity, but Minho was never in the mood for anything anymore. In some ways, he has reverted to his grumpy personality, only this time he knew how to be nice about it. He learned it from you.

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”

Changbin looked up from his fiddling thumbs. Minho’s thousand-yard stare burnt holes through the ceiling, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the particular question he voiced. He’s done his fair share of deep-diving about parallel universes and whatnot. Understanding the theories was one thing; accepting that it has been carried out was another. It still felt impossible. Changbin was holding onto the fact that you have never jumped anywhere, and it was a figment of your imagination that you somehow could portray excellently.

A character change only takes a good performer or someone fully convinced they’re somebody else.

The light glimmered as if to add glamour to the rigid atmosphere. Changbin let his neck rest on the back of the couch, and he shrugged. “If they do, you’ll be the first person they look for.”

Light returned to Minho’s eyes. He dreamt about that day. He wondered how it would go. Perhaps seamlessly as the day you first arrived. There won’t be chances of him missing your presence; not only would you make yourself seen, but he was more than sure he would know. A radar within himself would begin blaring sirens—he would just know if you were around again. And it would be a typical day. You would be at home, and he would return home. You would have dinner, you would go to bed together.

It would finally be a normal day when you come back.

For now, the glimmer in his eyes fades.

Weeks have passed with the same weight on your shoulders. You have come around to learn how to ignore it. You have learned to distract yourself from it. You work, hang out with people, and entertain yourself with the media. But even then, the grave mistake you made to not take that promise ring off your finger kept reminding you of the shaking sentiment that often shines at the end of the day.

You have looked through different online shops to find out where you could have gotten the ring from. It was a long stretch. You knew it would take ages to find the actual shop, but the promise of long-term confusion somehow assured you that you would have an excuse to keep it with you longer.

It has been weeks, though, and your hope was thinning. You could not find any matches, even after you personally headed over to the shops and asked the staff to take a closer look. You even went so far as to search for the lesser-known brands that would still make rings with diamonds as sparkly and extravagant as the one you got. Nothing, it was like the ring was custom-made, and that made you feel worse about having it.

It must have been really important to the owner, you reckon. It should not be in your hands.

“I feel bad for keeping it,” you spoke to the phone, where Chan sighed on the other side, most likely from irritation. The ring was all you talked about these weeks, aside from occasional work problems and drunken confessions you weren’t afraid to make to him.

“Then sell it.”

“But I don’t want to sell it.”

“Then what do you want to do? I keep giving you suggestions, and you keep shooting me down,” he complained with a helpless whine.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” you exclaimed.

“I say sell it,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I’m hanging up. I can’t take this abuse anymore,” Chan threatened with a yell of frustration. You could imagine him leaning against his chair and pushing it away from his desk, his eyes squinted into moon-shaped smiles, and his nose scrunched up in defeat.

“It’s just… this stupid ring is giving me weird vibes!” You stopped before the road and glanced down at the ring. “I feel sad but also happy when I look at it! Like some sort of deja vu!”

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while,” he said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is.”

You frowned. Chan was no help at all. From your peripheral vision, you could see that people had started to cross the street, so you followed suit quickly, intending to not block the road and be yelled at by some caffeine-deprived stranger who hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep yet.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears.

A stranger reached their hand out to grab a fistful of your shirt so they could yank you back to safety. The pull was strong and panicky, like back when you were younger, how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. Your gaze wobbled when your head hit a slight whiplash at the force, the sky welcoming your view. Tears unnaturally welled in your eyes as your hands waited for the impact of the ground.

“No,” you whispered, the blur of a car crash disappearing from your memories. “Minho–“

Minho? Again? Hold on. Let me rewind again.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before the sight of incoming cars made you freeze.

A stranger reached their hand out to—

No, [Name]! Wrong! Nothing happens to you! How did you manage to get yourself stuck in a near-death situation twice in a row? What is this, some kind of manifestation theory? Don’t joke around. Let me rewind!

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You jumped out of the way with a scream, missing the car by a few inches. It scraped past you, causing your body to fall back. Instead of catching yourself in the slow fall, you let your body flail about in the air as more cars slowly closed the distance between themselves and you. Pedestrians standing on the road couldn’t do anything out of sheer intimidation, born from the cars speeding toward you. You looked toward where the honking came from.

I can’t keep doing this. It’s your muscle memory, isn’t it? Damn biology. I really–let me rewind.

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while. Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is,” Chan said. “Look, you’ve been thinking about this too much. How about we go get a drink tonight?

“I don’t know, Chan,” you muttered with a sigh. “I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.”

“I’m surprised you don’t think I can tell,” he said. “How about this–I’ll buy some drinks, and we’ll hang out at yours. Beats heading outside, right?”

You closed your eyes. That could work. One of the biggest reasons the outside was so unappealing was that you had to step foot into it. Even now, with the sun shining down on your head, you’re quickening your pace so you can go home. If Chan was willing to go through the trouble of paying for drinks and hauling them to your apartment, you’ve got no complaints. It might be an excellent way to forget about this whole deja vu situation, too.

“Deal,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Chan giggled from the other side, but he didn’t say anything.

Wait, why didn’t he say anything?

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

What? What happened? Why is this sequence repeating itself? I scratched that off the document!

You snapped your head up from looking at the ground. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you—stop! Pause! Pause!—Should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road entirely, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears—why are you trying to kill yourself? Can’t you just let me continue with this, [Name]?

You could see the cars coming, but your feet wouldn’t move. Your eyes stared through the danger into a beacon laid far away, the illusion of a man’s face you should have forgotten. His name echoed silently through your mind, but his warmth remained on your body, in the shape of your arms and the weight on your finger.

I cannot… I do not have the power to erase what your body—your heart—chooses to remember, only that of your mind. If your first instinct is to go home and return to Lee Minho, I’m afraid I have no power to stop you besides rewinding time and hoping for a change.

Let me… let me rewind.

May you two have a joyous reunion… and… thank you for this lesson.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears. Scared, your knees gave away, and you fell backward.

The screams of others and the urgent car honks were blocked out from your ears. You turned your head to the side and saw a truck running down the road towards you. This one would kill you, you would close your eyes, and you would leave this place. Your lips quirked uncontrollably.

You would go back to him.

The mesh curtains stayed the same, useless against the sun but pretty with it. The bedsheet was as you felt it the first time, soft and silky yet thick and warm, the ones that make you sleep like you were in a goddamn coma. And Minho was the same as you last remembered seeing him—fluttery lashes, soft brown locks, and naturally pouty lips.

You remembered.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile to keep a laughing sob from bubbling up your throat. Staring at him, you realize he made you feel the same as you last remembered, and immeasurable affection pulled at your fingertips, longing for a touch of his gentle skin and to feel him close to you. And you did, unapologetically, caressed his face with the back of your fingers.

Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to wake him up, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself.

Minho stirred in his sleep at the touch. His brows furrowed before he opened his eyes, and when he saw you, his frown only deepened. You (or, well, ‘you’) have never tried to attempt this before, nor has he ever asked for love from them. His mind was occupied by somebody else, someone he thought would never come back to him ever again. Feeling this, having his cheek tenderly stroked in the morning, was surprising and weird.

“Hey, Minho,” you whispered, pinching his cheek slightly.

A shiver so strong it felt like a lightning zap ran down his body. His eyes widened slowly in recognition. He would know. He would just know. Through looking at you, through the feeling of your skin, through the way you space out your words, through the way you control your tone, through the way his ears react to your voice, through everything. He would know. He would be the first to know.

His eyes moved across your features. You looked the same as he had always seen you, before and after you left. But there was one defining difference he could make: the ring on your hand wasn’t there before. You had taken it with you after you left this place, and now it’s back.

“[Name],” he croaked out, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, gripping it gently.

“I’m home.” You nodded with a smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I’ll be late.”

The tears flow freely down his cheeks. It has been extremely difficult for him to revert to his usual lifestyle and pretend to be in love again. He had tried to bring himself to like ‘you,’ but it was useless. They simply felt different despite looking the same as you.

He had missed your stupid jokes, the way you could come back home with bags of clothes he rarely has the chance to wear, and the food you cook. The little recurring moments he loved with you, he replayed them every night in the room and didn’t dare to allow himself to forget you.

You took the initiative and moved closer to him. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, and after you lovingly nudged the tip of your noses together, you leaned in to give him a long-awaited kiss. He melted against you, against your lips and your hand, with desperation in each curve of his mouth. He felt like he couldn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t let you go this time, never again.

Reluctantly pulling away, your dazed eyes stared right back into his. You touched his face again, smiling. Minho cupped your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours with a light whisper, “Do you remember who I am?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Who am I?”

The sun shone from outside, casting a ray of warmth at an empty ring box located at the corner of the desk.

“You are Lee Minho,” you said, giving his lips a peck. “You are my husband.”

And you remembered that he told you he loves you, just as you love him.

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carionto · 7 months

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Humans and Boredom II

The planet cracker.

A devilish name that somehow still does not do this type of Human ship justice. Arrays of massive gravity hooks capable of tearing out kilometers wide and deep chunks of mass from any celestial object one of them decides to settle in orbit of.

The process is slow and tedious and, luckily, unsuitable for any practical military application, but unimaginably rewarding nonetheless. Once a chunk has been lifted, a fleet of harvester drones meticulously tears it further apart and separates into individual minerals and any other categorizable substances. From there the internal refineries of the planet cracker process them further into more usable metals, alloys, resins, and countless other resources. Finally, another fleet of transport ships ferry those back to where they are needed.

The land based production capacity of an entire (small) planet, with a single (albeit metropolis sized) ship, crewed by no more than a hundred Humans and thousands of drones.

One of these immense beasts - The Hardy Gal - was stationed around one of Saturn's moons - Epimetheus - that was recently voted out of the global popularity contest "Who's Even Heard of This One?" and thus sentenced to become part of the Dyson Ring.

The drone fleet that was supposed to be tearing up the unfortunate little moon, however, was recently recalled for refitting after a report showed a key part was manufactured using an outdated guideline by a suspiciously licensed corporation, that was also caught up in an unrelated embezzlement scandal.

Suffice to say that chief Gravity Master Boris Fruischtyen didn't have much to do. Laws and regulations do not permit any unsupervised extraction results to just be left in orbit. Oh no, can't preemptively arrange chunks for processing later, nope, "efficiency? what's that?". *sigh* Lift, hold, harvest, repeat.

Boris would have nothing to do, except the gravity hook arrays were a set of fifty per array, and The Hardy Gal had eight arrays. Four hundred individually aim-able and moveable chunks of matter.

While his day job was not very productive for now, his social media activity shot through the roof. There's a lot you can draw with four hundred "pixels" and the literal cosmos as your canvas and backdrop.

His personal favorites were water features and creatures set against the blue of Saturn, and he arranged quite a few of the extinct whales and penguins too. Additionally, every day he would fulfill one of the audiences top ranking requests.

Through these he discovered he has a fascinatingly good sense for flower compositions, especially from unusual angles. It's odd. He's only ever seen flowers in images and videos, perhaps lacking actual real life flowers to compare to allows his imagination to fill in the gaps in a way referencing factual knowledge would limit him. Who knows.

Despite having access to a three dimensional canvas, he preferred to keep things flat.

"What can I say, 2D is better. *chuckle*"

However, that doesn't mean he keeps things simple. The gravity hooks are quite good at selective manipulation, they have to be to target certain spots beneath a whole lot of other matter (which is then raised alongside the "elevator" matter). He demonstrated how the same image can look wildly different if you just change the "pixels" from squares to spheres, or how certain material compositions change color when squeezed more densely.

His personal favorite part is the finishing touch. After he's had a drone go out and stream his latest piece from plenty of angles for the viewers, he gives the whole image a simultaneous and gentle push back towards the moon. After a few touching hours of people in chat saying farewell, sharing personal stories and just asking questions Boris is always happy to answer, the image impacts the surface where the majority of parts were extracted from in a spectacular show of minor impacts and a shower of debris. Too bad it doesn't have an atmosphere, just imagine how cool it'd look burning up on reentry.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humanity fuck yeah #humans are artists #boredom #carionto

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celestial-toys · 1 year

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A Vivid Imagination

In today's story- you take a nap on the couch, and your favorite pair of pants give Sun an identity crisis. In other, somehow related news, he and Moon get caught up in thoughts of what they'd like to do to you.

Pairing: Sun and Moon + Reader Word Count: 2,673 minors DNI - 18+ content below the cut

Contains: [sex] [threesome] [fingering] [afab!Reader] [sub!bottom!Reader] [implied null!Sun & Moon] [soft dom!top!Sun & Moon] [chubby / plus-size Reader] [Eclipse makes an appearance but not in the traditional sense] [Porn With Plot]

Sun and Moon might be a little bit obsessed with getting you off.

Maybe a little bit.. addicted to how easy it is to make you cum, even with with nothing but their hands to work with. They can’t get enough of it.. it just does something to them. They’ll take any appropriate opportunity they can get to rile you up and bury their hands between your plush thighs, fingers sinking into your wet heat and homing in on the spots that make you whine for them.

You certainly don’t mind it in the slightest, and you’ve made that quite clear to them on multiple occasions. You’ve given them permission to play with you as much as they’d like, as long as they always remember to ask nicely first.

So, as Sun slinks his way through the house one evening, he finds you on the couch, apparently having fallen asleep. You’re sprawled cross it with your legs spread apart, eyes closed and head resting on one arm, finally relaxing after another long day in your office spent staring at that goddamned computer screen, and Sun’s mind is already wandering to ways he could help you relax even more.

You're wearing a soft, oversized black cowl neck sweater and a pair of those gaudy split-print clown pants that were supposed to look like a mix of the designs that their fictitious counterparts wore in-game. He feels a strange mix of emotions at the sight of you wearing “his” pants. He can’t tell if it’s possessiveness or jealousy but it’s mixing in with his sexual desire and his fans have to kick up a notch to keep his temperature stable. He wants to take them off of you for two very different reasons.

On one hand, they’re simply a barrier between him and what he desires. One that he’d like your permission to remove. While it was enjoyable sometimes to keep you clothed and have you grind yourself against him, begging, panting, and whining until you soaked them so thoroughly you’d have to take them off anyways.. it wasn’t quite as fun as having direct access to the most sensitive parts of you from the very start.

On the other hand, though.. the clown clothes also serve as a reminder of a number of other, much less exciting things. Sun remembers how he used to take the opportunity to mock them nearly every time you wore them, never really getting much more of a response from you than an eye roll in return, until one day when you’d apparently had enough and decided to tell him why you wore them so much.

“Sun, I’ve had these pants since long before I created you. When the two of you were nothing more than pixels on a screen and an insane pipe-dream in my mind, I would collect things that resembled the two of you. Because.. I mean.. who doesn’t collect merch of their favorite characters, right?”

He remembers the way you began to look embarrassed at the confession, but kept explaining nonetheless.

“I had no way of knowing at the time that one day you’d actually be standing here in my living room mocking me for them, but..”

You paused there, giving him a pointed look before continuing.

“..even if I had known that.. I probably would have still bought them anyways.”

At that, you looked down, running your hands down over the tops of your thighs, over the red and yellow stripes and the blue and yellow stars. Sun never forgot the look of fondness that graced your features as you did so. It made him feel something that he couldn’t name at the time.

Before he could come up with one of his signature snarky responses, you spoke again.

“It’s kind of funny, honestly. They also serve as a nice reminder of how far we’ve come. I wore them quite often during all those late nights I’d spend at work, fussing over the two of you, you know.”

Sun’s faceplate shifted a few clicks to the left, curious if you were about to drag him down a trip on Unpleasant Memory Lane. The expression on his screen changed, his default features fading to black and leaving nothing but his signature yellow smoke billowing across the screen. You knew him well enough at that point to know that that meant he wasn’t a fan of where the conversation was going. Sighing, you stopped yourself before you could get too far into all of that.

“Regardless of any of that.. these pants were here first, they’re comfortable as hell, and I happen to love the way your original designs looked. You’re gonna have to come up with a better reason than them being an eye sore for me to stop wearing them.”

You got up from where you’d been seated, walking over to him just to make a big, playful show out of poking him in the chest as you spoke.

“You know, lots of people would be flattered to see their partner wearing their clothes.”

Sun brought his eyes back from the void of his screen just to roll them at you, and his rays took one lazy spin around his faceplate before he responded.

“Those aren’t my clothes though. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things.”

You smiled up at him as you took a step back, and you took in the sight of all seven skinny feet of him before saying,

“Well, I can’t very well fit into your actual pants, now can I?”

You gestured to his impossibly tall, slender frame, and then to your much shorter and wider form before giving a dismissive laugh and returning to your prior spot on the couch. After a moment of standing there taking in your words, Sun finally decided to drop the subject.

Ever since then, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s wondered if.. underneath your jokes about your size differences.. if it actually bothered you that you couldn’t fit into most of their clothes.

He truly hopes that it doesn’t.

In spite of his relentless mocking of the iconic clown pants, nowadays part of him is actually glad that you have something to wear that feels like it’s theirs. He wants you to have something that reminds you of them.. both the (ridiculous) idea of them from the past, and the real-life version, standing here, zoned out in your living room today.

Before he can get any further carried away in his thoughts and memories, a notification flashes across his HUD.

[ 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜? ]

Sun pulls his attention back into reality and his monitor silently rotates on it's axis, scanning the room. His optics quickly land on Moon, who is currently leaning against the doorframe leading in from the kitchen, arms crossed and looking at him expectantly.

Sun rolls his eyes in exaggerated annoyance and mirrors Moon’s stand-offish position, leaning back against the opposite wall.

[ 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕. ]

Moon smiles.

[ 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

[ 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙. 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕠𝕡-𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖. ]

It’s now Moon’s turn to roll his eyes.

[ 𝒐𝒉, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏. 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 6 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 39 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕. ]

[ 𝕚’𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. ]

[ 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊'𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 ******* 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑. ]

[ 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥? ]

[ 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕. ]

Sun lets out a loud, annoyed sigh, the first actual sound to break the silence in the room, and both bots look to your dozing form on the couch to see if it might have woken you. You don’t stir, and the tension slowly drops from Sun’s shoulders.

[ 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣. 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟? ]

Moon holds his hands up in mock surrender.

[ 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.. 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕.. 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? ]

Sun doesn’t feel like explaining how your stupid clown pants nearly sent him into a spiral revisiting the complex history of his identity issues today, nor does he have the desire to drag Moon into it, so he tells a half-lie.

[ .. 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕓𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 *******’𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗. ]

Moon’s expression shifts from one of concern into a look of confusion as he tries to make sense of why Sun had been standing there, looking so conflicted, if that’s really all that he’s been thinking about.

[ 𝒐𝒉 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚? 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍? ]

A few tense seconds pass before Sun responds.

[ 𝕞𝕙𝕞. ]

Moon doesn’t buy it for one second.

Still, he lets the lie slide for two reasons. For one, there’s no getting the truth out of Sun unless he actually wants to share it. The second reason, though.. is a bit more of a selfish one.

Sun isn’t the only one that wants to take your clothes off, and if he is willing to elaborate on his supposed thoughts.. then Moon isn’t going to turn down the potential opportunity to join in.

If Sun’s gonna lie to him, he’s gonna have to commit to his story, too.

[ 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏.. 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

Sun looks almost taken aback for a moment, surprised that Moon let his half-lie slip by so easily, until he suddenly smirks at the realization of what Moon is hinting at.

Well, if Moon is willing to let it go and move on to some far more pleasant thoughts.. who is Sun to deny him?

He thinks it over for a moment, taking in your soft sleeping form, and when he looks over to Moon for confirmation of his request, he finds his lunar counterpart’s gaze already cast over you with that familiar, cautious desire in his eyes.

Sun fiddles with a few internal settings before initiating the process.

A few moments later, an identical alert pops up on both of their HUDs at the same time.

[ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾𝙲𝙾𝙻. ]

[ 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍? ]

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

There’s no stopping the next flood of thoughts they get. Their motions now in sync, every sensation, thought, and emotion felt simultaneously between them, their gaze homes in on you. Still sleeping, unaware of the growing desire you spark in your partners when you shift a little and your legs fall even further open. Unaware of the show they’re preparing to put on in their combined headspace.

Thoughts of how you're already on display for them, if you'd just let them pull those damn pants down..

They know you're not wearing underwear. You rarely do.. not in the evenings like this. It gives them easier access. Just one less thing to get in the way with how most nights they approach you begging to touch you, pleading to help you feel good. They just want you to feel so goddamn good for them. They can't help it.

They can already imagine just how wet your cunt’s gonna get for them.. and those fucking sounds, god, the sounds you’ll make when they finally touch you. The way your breath will hitch when they trace a finger gently up between your folds, your slick immediately coating their digits, helping the smooth silicone glide effortlessly up, further and further, agonizingly slow. They won’t give you what you want right away. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it always feels better when there’s some anticipation involved.

They’ll trace slow, teasing circles around the base of your hard little clit until you can’t take it anymore. When your voice takes on that desperate, pleading edge and one set of their hands has to hold your hips still to prevent you from moving around under their slow, calculated pleasure, they finally show you some mercy. One wet thumb reaches up and runs up along the underside of your clit, so slow, so gentle, over and over again.

Never going any faster, never changing pace, just a rhythmic stroke across your most sensitive bundle of nerves, soft yet relentless until you start whimpering again. They'll pull away for a moment to soothe you like always, reassuring you.

One of them will climb up onto the couch with you, pulling you into their embrace as they cup your cheek, directing you to look at them.

"It's okay, Sunlight.. we know.. it's intense, isn't it?“

You’ll nod your head vehemently, over and over, desperation and want clearly written across your features as you make some sweet, shy noise of agreement.

“Mhm.. but you know we've got you, right?"

Instead of returning their attention to your clit, as they await your response, two long fingers will slip inside of you, meeting little resistance as your hips buck and your walls tighten around them in an effort to bring them further inside.

Your eyes meet theirs and once again you nod your head in acknowledgment, a quiet little whine of “please, please take care of me..” falling from your lips.

You know they’ve got you.

They’ll smile. An identical, love-drunk, hungry grin will spread across the screens of both of their faceplates. They’re so close, bodies caging you in against the too-small couch such that you can feel the hot air escaping from their vents against your skin. They’ll speak again, one of their hands finally returning to give you the attention you desperately need.

“That's right, Starlight.. just let it feel good. We know you can take this for us. Let us see how wet you can get, yeah? How much of a mess you can make.."

They know you’re sensitive. They'll be sure to take good care of you.

A pop-up flashes in the center of their vision.

[ 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙿 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖. ]

[ 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳 ]

Both bots release reluctant groans into the quiet room, the only other sound being that of their fans working overtime trying to keep their temperatures down.

Then, they notice how you begin to stir from your little nest on the couch.

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

As soon as they finish the short separation process, they’re making their way over to you and dropping down on their knees in front of the couch, asking for your permission in record time.

You blink open your tired eyes and can't help but smile a bit when you see the both of them with their long fingers anxiously hovering over the waistband of your pants. They lock eyes with you and with a quick “Can we? Please?” they don’t even need to specify what they want. You know, and you’re happy to oblige them.

You hate to say no to those puppy dog eyes, anyways. Especially when they’re looking up at you like this, deep beautiful shades of burgundy, desperate and pleading.

You want to give them what they want, after all.

It just so happens that most often, what they want is to see how fast they can have your legs trembling, hands searching for purchase on any part of them you can reach, whining and repeating their names over and over like they’re God and you’re praying.

A/N: FYI, this story takes place in my ‘[Not] Made by Design’ AU, if you’re curious as to why the hell they’re behaving so differently from canon. It’s intentional! Also, I made a slight change to the wording of the sexual part of this, compared to the version of it I posted on AO3. It's inconsequential, really, but I figured I'd mention it. If you'd like to see the original and/or read more on where the original inspiration came from, you can find it here.

#sundrop #moondrop #five nights at freddy's #sundrop smut #moondrop smut #fnaf smut #fnaf nsft #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #daycare attendant #the daycare attendant #nsft writing #fnaf sun and moon #security breach smut #sun x reader #moon x reader #Seven.txt - Under The Stars #[Not] Made by Design #cw smut #dear all 37 of my beloved followers.. today i offer you smut even though i said i was gonna focus on hurt/comfort #tomorrow?? who knows..#but seriously tho i am working on sfw stuff i just wanted to get this up first cause i've already posted it on AO3 a little while back #the kudos to hits ratio on it was the worst of all my posted fics thus far so. perhaps this isn't that good. but that's okay #probably just cause this is so far removed from canon #alas #i'm gonna write my silly little meta story even if i'm it's only fan

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