#someone has to have already done this but oh well

[zzzsunghoon]

DO OUR HEARTS STILL BEAT IN TWO?

ex!ni-ki x f!reader smut (18+ minors dni), college/university au, second chances wc 10.7k

blurb! you haven’t seen NISHIMURA RIKI since the messy breakup that tore you apart months ago. he couldn’t commit, couldn’t give what you needed, so you left, empty and heartbroken. then one night, at a house party, you spot him. your friends warned you. you swore you were done. but what happens when a game shoves you into a dark closet, alone together?

warnings! unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, argument, 7 minutes in heaven, making out, grinding, dry humping, oral sex (f), ni-ki rib tattoo, petnames (baby, good/filthy girl), exhibitionism, poor jake lol

a/n! i was listening to the song ‘12 to 12’ and somehow conjured up this plot, it doesn’t really follow the song's actual story, but it made me think of this scenario, so here we are hehe (≧◡≦). kinda got carried away LOL HOW'D THIS GET TO 10K WC... aaa this is my first time writing, hope you enjoy!

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, and does not reflect how the characters actually are irl, nor does it represent my views of them. side characters from other groups may not be accurately written. not proofread.

The bass is thumping through the walls of the house like a second heartbeat. Someone has spilled beer on the couch already, while someone else is screaming the lyrics to a song they don’t even know. Minju is clutching your hand, the two of you on the lookout for the rest of your friends, who seem to have already wandered off the second that some alcohol got into their systems. The warm and dim mood light that filled the space made it more difficult to find anyone. All bodies blending into one from a distance. Her grip on you is firm, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You kind of already have.

You’re physically here. In this house that has quickly become far too hot with the number of people shoved into it, the crowded living room you were in is surrounded by faces you don’t even recognize half of. Your mind however, is somewhere else. Stuck somewhere twenty minutes ago. Caught in the moment you bumped into him.

You had just arrived and were weaving your way through the crowd, barely missing the splatter of drinks being thrown around by swaying, half-drunk bodies. You were pulled away from Minju and the others the second that you stepped foot in the rented house, attempting to regroup with your friends while also making a short detour to the table with the punch.

‘Pure fuel’

You had absolutely no idea what was in it but at this point you didn’t really care, just wanting to let loose for a night.

Your friends had dragged you out of your dorm because you had been cooped up in there for nights on end, far too focused on studying and trying not to think too hard about a certain someone. You thought you may as well have a little fun now that you’re here.

After pushing past some strangers, the large glass punch bowl came into view and you immediately held onto the kitchen counter to steady yourself, the amount of people in this house was no joke. Without looking, you reached for a red solo cup, ready to get buzzed, when you felt the soft brush of fingers against yours. You jolt. Someone from behind you had reached out at the exact same time you did.

“Oh, sorry” You mumbled softly, pulling back to allow the stranger to go first.

But as the stranger moved to pour himself a drink, pressed up against your side, your body began to remember. A specific scent of strong cologne. A familiar warmth. Your heart instantly knew but your brain was still catching up. You turned.

Nishimura Riki.

Aside from his freshly bleached hair and broader shoulders. Damn he’s been working out. Everything else about him was still the same. The sharpness in his features. The calm arrogance in the way he carries himself. The way people stop and stare when he walks through a room, not because he wants them to, but because his presence demands it. The boy you once loved.

Your stomach folded inwards, hands tightened around the counter. You didn’t realize you were staring until he looked down at you.

Upon meeting your gaze his eyebrows raised ever so slightly, only noticeable to you, who was looking right back at him. He’s surprised, you can tell, not expecting to see you here. A flicker of emotion ran behind his eyes, something almost like hurt flashed, so fast you hardly register it before he quickly regained his composure.

You felt your cheeks heat up sligthly at being caught staring. He just finishes pouring his drink before smirking at you in that naturally flirty way he does, placing the ladle of the punch bowl down as he disappeared into the crowd. Gone, again. As if he was never there.

You swallowed hard, trying to bury the ache he reignited within you.

Which leads to now, you found him again, across the room with his friends. In between Heeseung and Jungwon, laughing at something that Sunghoon said across from them, but his eyes are focused on something else. Someone else.

You.

Every time you look up, his eyes are already on you. Watching. Before he turns away like it means nothing. Which is probably true, right?

“You okay?” Minju asks, pressing a cold drink into your hand. Her worried eyes flick toward the other end of the room like she already knows.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

You haven’t seen him in 6 months. Not since that night.

Screams were let out. Doors were slammed. Your voice cracked while tears spilled out as you told him it was over. You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t be the only one trying. He was always late. Always cold and distant. Always too much and not enough all at the same time.

Constant miscommunication, obsession, and jealousy. Too many nights spent crying alone in your room because Riki had a habit of flirting with anything that breathed. Even if he never acted on it, even if he always came back to you, it stung.

And he did come back. Every time. With those hands and that mouth and that damn voice like sin. Until you couldn’t breathe without him.

Until you felt so suffocated, you had to leave.

So why the hell is your heart doing backflips just because he looked at you?

“Don’t,” Minju warns softly, catching on to the reason for your spacing out. “You promised.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you murmur as your eyes flick back to her, sipping your drink. It was true, technically.

“Exactly,” she says. “You’re just standing here, waiting for him to come to you. Like you always did.”

You flinch, because she’s right; a little harsh, but right. Because part of you still wants him to. You hate it.

Yunjin and Intak are arguing over what music to put on next, and Keeho’s already found the secret liquor stash. Your friends are loud and chaotic, and usually you’d love that, egging them on, but tonight it all feels like background noise.

Because the room is pulsing with something else taking over your senses. Something low and slow and heavy. Something that tastes like nostalgia, heartbreak and the sickening sweetness of still wanting what once ruined you all at once.

Riki.

Your eyes meet again across the room, and this time he doesn’t look away.

He tilts his head slightly, gaze dragging down your body and back up with an unhurried arrogance that makes your skin burn. His lips part just enough to show the hint of a smirk before taking a sip of his drink. For a second, you remember how you two used to be.

His mouth on your neck. His hands gripping your thighs. The way he used to kiss you as if he was starving and you were all he needed to recover.

You tear your gaze away, swallowing hard.

No. Stop thinking about him.

But you can still feel him looking, as if his eyes naturally gravitate towards you.

You don’t approach him. You won’t.

Because the passion between you two was nuclear, but it scorched everything around it. He ruined you, and you let him. He doesn’t deserve to see how much you still want him.

But then the music changes.

That song comes on.

Your song.

The one that played when you first met, at a party similar to this one. The one he used to hum under his breath when he’d tug you into his lap and kiss you slow. The one that played when he said that he loved you for the first time, in between moans and tangled sheets.

You freeze, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice he does too.

Minju tenses beside you, sensing the shift in your mood. “We should go.”

Now, the room is spinning slower. Everyone around you has faded into a blur. Just you and him, breathing the same air, held hostage by the same memory. Two strangers who once shared a story.

Snapping out of it briefly, you glance toward where he was standing again, and he’s gone.

Your heart jumps into your throat. Until-

“Hey!” someone calls. “Seven Minutes in Heaven! Let’s go!”

You groan. “Oh, absolutely not-” What are we? High schoolers?

But surprisingly, small crowds begin piling into a circle in the next room over, pulling you along with them in the process. Jungwon’s dragging Riki out from wherever he disappeared to. Yunjin’s already pushing people together. The bottle spins, over and over again as laughter echoes. The closet door creaks open and closed each time a new coupled up pair is selected. Until suddenly, the sequence of players has rotated enough to end up with you.

“Your turn,” Minju whispers, eyes widening in warning, before mumbling, “Literally anyone else, please.” unsure if she's trying to calm your nerves or her own.

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the bottle. You don’t even fully know how you ended up here, as if some uncontrollable wave had swept you into your spot on the floor. Chatter and laughter buzz around you like static as you brace yourself for whatever storm you’re about to get yourself in.

You glance at Riki. Just for a second.

Then you spin.

It’s the longest few seconds of your life. Since when do bottles spin so fucking slow? The bottle goes around in circles for far too long and not long enough at the same time. Your heart is pounding in your throat, a cold sweat creeping down your back, your eyes laser-focused on the bottle.

And finally, like some sick joke, it stops.

Landing dead center on none other than Nishimura Riki. Of-fucking-course it does. It’s like the universe could sense your lingering eyes the whole night and decided to punish you for even thinking about him.

The room erupts. A mixture of cheers, laughter, and gasps. You feel your stomach plummet to the floor.

Riki doesn’t say a word. He just lifts his chin, jaw set, and holds out his hand. Waiting for your cue.

You don’t want to take it. You shouldn’t take it.

But you always were a little self-destructive, weren’t you?

Your hand slides into his with a slight tremble as you both stand from your spots on the floor.

He leads you into the closet, you hesitantly get in after him. The door shuts behind you both with a finality that sounds louder than it should. Engulfed in total darkness. Your skin buzzes as you and Riki stand in the tiny space. Your bodies face one another, but your eyes linger elsewhere.

Neither of you speak, suffocating in a mix of the silence and his strong cologne.

You have never wanted to fade out of existence more than right now.

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. It’s impossible to ignore how small the space is. Narrow. Cramped. The heat of his body just inches away from yours.

You try to focus on the distant pulse of the music, the faint murmur of voices beyond the door, but your mind is clouded.

By him.

His quiet and controlled breathing ringing in your ears.

“Still wearing my perfume,” he suddenly says, breaking the silence, voice dipped in something dangerous.

You stiffen, looking down. “It’s not yours.”

“You used to steal it from my bathroom.”

Your fingers curl at your sides as you glance at him, brows furrowed in slight annoyance. “That was forever ago.”

“It was March.”

A pause. Heavy.

You swallow, voice smaller now. “Still not yours.”

“It smells good on you,” he says softly. “Still drives me insane.”

You press your back tighter against the wall, as if you can disappear into it. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Start with that again.”

“I’m not starting anything,” he says, tone too casual. “Just… remembering.”

You hear the faint sound of him shifting, a shoe scuffing on the closet floor. His voice is closer now, by half a step. His body heat radiates toward you like gravity.

Your jaw tightens. “Why are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“You know exactly what.”

He hums. “You always said I was good at it.”

“Right.” You exclaim, “You’re a natural at it! Pretending nothing affects you, nothing touches you, like you’re-”

“Untouchable?” he finishes, amused. You can hear the small smirk on his face as he speaks. “You used to like that.”

“I used to like a lot of things about you,” you snap.

He laughs low and breathy, no bite. “Not anymore?”

You hesitate a moment too long.

He clocks it instantly.

“Thought so.”

You grit your teeth, fists beginning to clench at your sides. “You think you’re so charming.”

“Not really.” He moves again, the sound of his body brushing the wall opposite yours, inching closer. You swear you can feel his breath now. “I just remember how your legs used to shake when I kissed you.”

Your breath hitches.

Silence stretches between you like elastic. Something fragile and tense in the air.

You whisper, “You were such a goddamn liar.”

He pauses for a moment, words caught in his throat for a second.

“What did I lie about?”

Your head turns toward the sound of his voice in the dark. “You made me feel like I was the only thing you ever wanted, you told me I was, and then you started acting like I didn’t exist unless it was convenient for you. You were never there, Riki. Not when it mattered.”

There’s a shift. His armor cracks ever so subtly, but he doesn’t speak. You wait.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits quietly.

You blink.

“You were always too good,” he says, gaze shifting to the side. “Too good at loving me. It scared the shit out of me.”

There’s a long pause. The air between you turns heavy.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking back in your direction in the dark.

You let out a breathless laugh. “Well, mission failed.”

“I know.”

Silence returns once again, now changed. Thicker. Full of so much left unsaid that you can almost taste them. You press your palms against the wall behind you, an attempt at grounding yourself.

He’s not touching you, but the heat of his body from the close proximity makes it feel like he is. His presence, the smell of his cologne, the way his voice crawls under your skin and makes a home in your bloodstream, it’s killing you inside.

“I missed you Y/N.”

Your eyes widen, just a fraction, but you don’t answer. You physically can’t.

Your chest aches. Your stomach is in knots. Everything inside you is screaming, begging you to just stay still and ride this out. It’s only seven minutes. That’s it. It shouldn’t be this hard.

But in a moment of weakness, you whisper, “Do you still think about me?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “More than I’d like to admit.”

You suck in a sharp breath, and then finally, the moment breaks.

He takes a step forward, and you feel it more than you see it. The energy in the closet shifts completely. Air crackling. Tension climbing.

You whisper, “Don’t.” but your voice isn’t convincing. It’s soft, weak.

“I won’t touch you,” he says, so close now that his voice rumbles through your chest. “Not unless you ask me to.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You loved that about me.”

You hate how true that is.

He edges closer again, his breath hits your cheek. Your body jolts like it’s been electrified in response.

“I shouldn’t have come in here,” you manage to get out.

“Probably not.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I want to,” you whisper.

Suddenly, his fingers gently brush against yours, barely there. A ghost of contact, and yet it unravels something within you so fast it makes your head spin.

You grip the hem of your skirt, fists tight. “Riki…”

“Still love the way you say my name,” he murmurs.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Because I’ll forget why I left.”

Riki lets that sit before taking another step closer, until there’s no space left between you. His hand finds the wall beside your head, chest brushing lightly against yours, testing.

The darkness in the closet, his body pressed against yours, his breath against your neck as he leans down, it’s becoming all too much. You feel dizzy.

“You left,” he says softly. “But you didn’t stop loving me.”

Your breath catches at his words. His face inches closer, the soft air from his nose just brushing your own. His forehead presses against yours, the heat from the contact making you lightheaded. He’s so close.

Without another word, the gap closes. He kisses you, lips soft and filled with intent as they move against yours. Slow and deep.

Like nothing’s changed. Like he never stopped being yours.

And, god. You kiss him back.

Your back hits the wall with a quiet thud as his other hand lands gently on your hip. His lips still feel the same, your breathing is uneven, and the heat of him pressed to your skin burns like a bruise. The kiss, devastating and familiar, fizzes through every nerve in your body. Your brain quickly catches up to what you’re doing, and suddenly your hands are moving to shove against his chest, pushing him backwards.

“Stop,” you gasp. “Just stop.”

Riki stumbles back half a step, lips parted, chest heaving. You can’t see him properly in the dark, but you feel his presence, something radiating and suffocating, like smoke filling your lungs.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “You don’t get to do that.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Of course I did. That’s the problem.”

Silence took over the closet once again, the kind that made you want to evaporate out of thin air just to be able to escape the situation. Then he broke it, voice quiet yet sharp all at once. “You think I haven’t missed you every fucking day since?”

You inhale too quickly. “You didn’t act like it.”

“I was trying to let you go!” he snaps, a hint of desperation evident in the way he spoke. “Because I thought it’s what you needed.”

“What I needed was for you to try! For once.” Your voice cracks, low and bitter. “I needed you to choose me. Not just when it was easy. Not just when you were lonely.”

His breath shudders. “You were the only thing I ever wanted,” he whispers, your heart claws its way up your throat. “I just didn’t know how to keep you.”

You freeze. The world stills.

At this point you barely notice the music thumping beyond the closet anymore, just the sound of his voice, ragged and raw and painfully real.

You whisper, “Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”

“I do mean them.”

And before you can properly think, before your lungs can work on taking your next breath, you find yourself leaning in just a little, and he’s kissing you again.

Harder this time.

Hungrier.

It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. It’s not even angry. It’s desperate. It crashes into you like a wave that’s been building for far too long, held back by dam after dam of unspoken words and trembling restraint.

He swallows your breath like it’s oxygen, like he needs you to be able to stay alive. Hands threading into your hair, tilting your chin just the way he always used to. His lips drag yours open, tongue sliding deep with a mastery that should be illegal, elliciting a small noise close to a whimper out of you. He kisses you like he remembered it all, which he did. Every sigh, every weak spot, every way you liked to be taken apart. You gasp into his mouth as his hand ghosts down your side, fingers skating the edge of your waist, not quite touching enough; teasing.

In this moment, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him. That isn’t Riki. The boy you once poured all of your heart into.

You’re too busy falling.

You feel his lips slowly drag to your jaw, kissing a hot path downwards, then trailing to your neck. You gasp softly, your head tipping back against the wall like instinct as warm, gentle licks are marked onto you in between kisses. His grip on your hips tightens with every movement of his mouth. His teeth graze your throat and the sound you make in response is obscene.

“You’re dangerous,” you whisper breathless, like it’s something he doesn’t already know.

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips still brushing your skin.

“I’m only like this with you.”

Your body arches into his, heat blooming between you like fire on gasoline, you can feel his small smirk blooming against your neck. Your legs feel shaky, your fingertips tremble as they slide up his chest.

“You’re so full of shit,” you whisper, but your voice breaks, betrays you.

“I could ruin you,” he says lowly, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, breath hot. “But you already let me.”

You groan, a low and real groan, and it sounds like a secret. Like something you shouldn’t be doing with him, your ex boyfriend. Especially not here. You can feel the beginning of a heat blooming deep in between your thighs.

His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss once more, and this time it destroys you. His hand slips to the back of your thigh, tugging it up against his hip, pressing you flush against him. You can now feel him pressed against your core as he pushes you backwards into the closet wall, a growing hardness underneath his pants. He grinds into you slowly, as if testing the waters, and your knees buckle instantly.

His grip on you tightens, holding you steady. One arm now snaking around your waist as his tongue brushes against yours in a wet kiss.

You moan softly, right into his mouth.

“Shhh,” he breathes deep with a subtle tease in his tone, pulling away slightly. “You want them to hear?”

You freeze and melt all at once.

You’re in a closet. There are people literal feet away from you. Friends, yours and his. Laughing. Drinking. Unaware of what is going on between the two of you, or maybe not so much.

The risk makes your head spin.

“Riki…” you pant.

His lips don’t leave yours. “Say it again.”

You do, unintentionally whinier than the first.

He groans this time, and the sound vibrates into your mouth like a promise. His hips buck into yours.

“You have no idea what that does to me,” he mutters, grinding into you slowly as his grip on you tightens, dangerously. “No idea how many nights I thought about this. About you.”

You clutch his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your mouths break apart only to find each other again seconds later like gravity, thirst. His tongue slides roughly against yours in a kiss so hot and sinful that your whole body aches for more. He knows how to ruin you, to devour you slow, unraveling every thread, every barrier you put up trying to get over him, with the way his hands frame your hips, the way his fingers dig into your skin like he never forgot how you fit.

Your skirt rides up as his thigh slots between yours. Your breath hitches when you feel him press up, grinding again, his growing hard-on slotting perfectly against your clothed warmth. Your body jerks in response, whimpering into his mouth like you’re drunk on him.

You kind of are.

His mouth meets yours in a deep kiss again. It’s dangerous. You clutch at the back of his neck, fingers slowly dragging up into his hair, nails digging in as you tug hesitantly on his blond strands. He lets out a deep groan into your mouth, your hips aching in the best way as his grip tightens even more.

“I hate that you still feel like this,” you whisper, shaky.

He smirks against your lips. “You mean perfect?”

You shove him playfully. He grabs your wrist and presses your hand to his chest, right over his racing heart. He rests his forehead against yours, never breaking eye contact

“I never stopped wanting you,” he says, almost reverent. “Even when I was trying to.”

Your eyes sting.

You lean in, kissing him again, like you can’t spend more than two seconds without his lips moving against yours, in the intoxicating way they do.

It’s spiraling, fast.

Riki’s is on you leaving wet, desperate and consuming open mouthed kisses wherever he can. His tongue sliding deep into your mouth, like he can taste how wrecked you already are. His hands have stopped pretending to behave, one edging from your waist to your backside, pulling you against the thick line of his body, the other now tangled deep in your hair, tilting your head to kiss you harder. Deeper. As if he wants to fuse with you into one being, until your hearts beat as one. It had always driven you crazy how he’d take control in situations like this.

You’re panting against his lips, high on him and chasing his touch, just as desperate. He groans into your mouth and it vibrates straight through your chest, making you shiver. His hand slips lower, over your thigh, gripping it. Lifting, no, dragging your leg up high around his waist until your core is pressed hard against him. The only thing keeping his cock from rubbing right up against your heat being the thin layers of clothing between you.

You whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the friction.

“This is insane,” you breathe into the corner of his mouth.

He kisses you instead of answering. Open and hungry.

“Don’t care,” he growls, voice hoarse. “You feel too fucking good.”

His hips roll into you harder, and it shatters you. His bulge straining through his pants, fully hard now.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can catch it, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt like it’ll save you from drowning in him. One hand slowly finds its way under, feeling a hint of his bare and toned stomach against your fingertips. Your other hand finds his jaw, sharp and familiar, and pulls him even closer.

He smiles against your mouth, cocky and dangerous. He loves that you’re already coming undone, all over again. He loves the effect he has on you. How your body reacts so well to his.

His lips trail down your neck, slow and sinful, his hand pressing harder against your thigh you’re sure it’ll leave a bruise, keeping your legs open for him. You can feel him, hard, hot, pressed right where you’re aching, and it makes you dizzy.

“I missed this,” he murmurs, tongue sliding devastatingly slow against your skin making your head lean back against the closet wall. “Missed the way you sound.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, shivering as his hand slips beneath your skirt. Your hands traveling across his abs underneath his shirt. His teeth graze against the skin just under your ear and you shiver as you feel him suck hard, a mark sure to form.

“No, you don’t.” His fingers skim your inner thigh. “You just wish you did.”

He’s infuriating, and yet he’s right.

Your hands catch his face again, hands cupping his cheeks as you press your lips back on his, mouths crashing together with a breathless need that makes the whole world disappear. The kiss deepens, slick and frantic, teeth grazing lips, hands sliding further under clothing.

You can barely think.

You’re just noise and heat and hands. Moans muffled into mouths. Fingertips clutching skin. His hips grinding into yours with such need like it’s killing him right now not to be inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, forehead pressed to yours as you both try to breathe. Hot breaths fanning against one another as you both try to navigate the daze you’re in. “You’re driving me fucking insane. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

“Same thing you’re doing to me,” you gasp.

Both of his hands wrap fully around your thigh and waist and drag you higher, lifting you slightly off the floor, so your weight is pressed hard between him and the wall, so he can rut up against you. So he can feel you. You yelp softly at the sudden change in position, your arms snaking their way around his neck. You are now being carried by him with ease, his body pressing yours against the wall. The reminder of his insane body strength drives you crazy.

The increased access and friction from this position has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna let me take care of you?” he breathes with desperation, mouth dragging hotly against your cheek, leaving small licks and nips here and there. “Wanna feel me again?”

His words make you weak in the knees. If you weren’t being lifted up by him right now, you’re sure they would’ve buckled at that. “Yes!” you whisper, before you can think better.

He groans like the word alone undoes him, dragging you down once more against his clothed hard-on. “God, you’re so-”

But he’s cut off.

Knock knock.

“Time’s almost up!” a voice calls through the door, bright and oblivious.

You freeze. So does he. Both your heads now turned towards the closet door. You suddenly remember where you are, having gotten too caught up in each other.

The music is still blaring outside. People are still laughing, shouting. The real world is still moving on, and you’re here in the dark, shoved against a wall, on the edge of making every mistake you swore you’d never repeat.

You can hardly breathe.

Your chest is rising and falling too fast, and you try to steady yourself, arms tightening a little around Riki’s neck. You try to blink back the haze, but then he shifts, still pressed up between your legs, and your body reacts, eliciting a sudden sound.

A broken, breathy, desperate little whimper.

You slap your hand over your mouth like it’ll fix it. Like it’ll hide the fact that your entire body is still on fire. Burning for him.

Riki turns to you the second the noise leaves your lips and grins. Slow and feral.

“You’re so not done with me,” he murmurs just inches away from your lips, voice wrecked.

You look at him. Eyes wide, lips swollen, heat still building inside you like it never paused, just growing.

He leans in one last time, lips grazing your ear.

“Come home with me.”

You nod before you even register it, and before you know it, Riki is gently placing you back on the floor as his lips place an open mouthed kiss against your neck, and the door cracks open, just as you two break apart.

Light floods in. Your friends are nowhere in view yet.

Riki doesn’t give you a second to think. His hand wraps around yours, grip tight, possessive, and deadly all at once.

He pulls you out fast, guiding you through the bodies with ease, through the bass-heavy air, down the hallway.

No words. No explanations. No goodbyes.

You move past the living room, the kitchen, the crush of people. The moment the front door is within reach, Heeseung suddenly looks up from where he’s standing, seemingly taking a breather in one of the less crowded areas of the house. He’s leaning against the wall by the front door, red cup in hand, one brow raised like he saw this coming a mile away. At least he’s alone…

He whistles low and teasing.

You don’t dare look, blushing profusely. Riki doesn’t flinch. His hand stays locked around yours as he yanks the door open and you step out into the night.

The car ride is silent, but the air is anything but calm.

Your thigh is burning beneath his hand. His palm rests heavy over your skin, thumb stroking slow and possessive circles just above your knee. He doesn’t look at you once, but you can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. His jaw clenched, lip caught between his teeth, fingers tapping at the steering wheel, restless. The tension is a third presence in the car, thick and suffocating, like something is alive, pacing, waiting to explode.

You’re still breathing hard from what just happened in the closet. You haven’t come down from the high you felt, not even close. You don’t think you can come down from it without him.

The second the key turns in the lock of his shared dorm and the door creaks open, Riki is on you. Luckily his roommate, Jake, is still at the party.

Mouths colliding, wrecked and hungry.

Teeth, tongues, breathless gasps. You stumble backward into the dark room as you’re tasting each other, hands fumbling all over bodies. He slams the door shut behind you with a kick, it clicks. Then he grabs you, both hands firm on the backside of your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor like you weigh nothing for the second time that night.

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, arms around his shoulders, and he pins you to the wall so hard the frames rattle.

“You don’t leave tonight,” he growls into your ear, breathing heavily, “not until I’ve ruined you all over again.”

You moan before you can stop it.

He kisses you like he’s trying to take your breath away. Like your mouth is the only thing he’ll ever need again. His hands slide up, under your skirt, along the backs of your thighs. He gives your ass a testing squeeze and you let out a whimper just muffled by a kiss, you can feel him smirking against your lips.

“God…” he groans.

Riki holds your hips to the thick press of him, his cock aching beneath his jeans, begging to be freed. He grinds down into you slow and deep between your legs. You cry out into his mouth, legs squeezing tighter together around his hips as he holds you.

“Fuck,” he hisses, head dropping to your shoulder. “I missed this. Missed how fucking loud you get for me.”

Your hips roll into his, chasing the friction, the tension that’s been building all night, for months, and he grunts, low and rough, dragging his teeth along your collarbone. By now you two are dry humping right by the front door of his dorm, and it’s absolutely filthy. The mixture of grunts and moans echo off the walls.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”

You nod, eyebrows furrowed in quiet need. You’re clutching his shirt like you’ll fall without it. But he doesn’t give in, not fully. And you swear you’re about to cry with how fucking horny you are.

He grinds into you again, slow, the angle making his clothed buldge graze just right against your covered clit, your eyes rolling in pleasure. The friction is too much and yet still not enough.

Riki pulls his head back just enough to look at you, the eye contact making you dizzy.

“You think I’m just gonna fuck you against this wall?” he murmurs. “Let you come once and send you home?”

His smile is dangerous.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss just under your jaw, “I’m gonna take my time.” Another kiss, lower. “Make sure it lasts.” His hand slides beneath your top, palm splayed hot against your stomach. “Make sure you never forget what this feels like.”

You moan again, body arching into his touch, your fingers tugging his hair as he sucks bruises into your neck.

“Say you want it,” he whispers, teeth grazing your skin. “Say you want me to ruin you.”

“I want it,” you manage to get out, panting. “R-Riki, please…”

That’s all he needs. “Good girl.” He growls.

He holds onto you again, pulling you off the wall, and carries you towards his bedroom. The dorm is dark and quiet, roommate nowhere in sight. Not that you’d care if he was. You were too focused on wishing Riki was fucking you already.

You can barely breathe by the time he kicks his door shut.

He throws you onto the bed and climbs over you, mouth already back on yours. You meet him halfway, kissing back just as hungrily, your fingers dragging through his hair, nails scratching lightly down his clothed back, needing more.

It’s like you’re starving for each other. Like if you stop touching, you’ll stop breathing. At this point you think you actually might.

He kisses you deep, biting your lower lip, groaning when your hips lift to meet his. His body fits against you perfectly. You can feel every part of him hard and aching, pressed tight against you.

His hands explore you like he forgot nothing. He rediscovers every curve, every spot that makes you gasp. He memorized your body once, and now he’s reacquainting himself. Slowly. Thoroughly.

“Still so fucking perfect, baby” he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck. “Still mine.”

You don’t correct him. You can’t.

Because a part of you deep down wants to be his.

In the middle of your tongues brushing against each other amidst kisses, he grinds into you again, making you moan so loud you have to slap your hand over your mouth, he grins against your chest.

“Don’t be quiet now,” he says, breathless. “I wanna hear you.”

He presses harder. His hands toying with the hem of your top, dragging it upwards so slow that it physically hurts, just enough to reveal your belly button.

“Wanna hear every single sound you make when I fuck you open again.”

Your eyes roll back.

You dig your nails into his shoulder, his shirt already riding up from the constant movement, and he kisses you again. Sloppier this time, more tongue, more teeth.

It’s filthy yet beautiful.

You’re sure you’re absolutely soaked by this point, feeling the mess made in your panties seeping through.

Your body arches into him, grinding back and meeting his hard-on with growing eagerness. You claw at his shirt, yanking it upwards until he rips it off himself and tosses it across the room.

What you see takes your breath away.

His abs, glistening with sweat, are visibly more toned. An obvious sign of hitting the gym more frequently ever since your break up. Though most shocking of all, he has a tattoo.

A big one.

One that stretches from his upper rib just until where his jeans hung low on his hips. Big, dark and new. You almost moan at the sight. Holy shit…

He must’ve realized what caught your attention, after following your gaze he just grins and leans down to whisper seductively against your cheek, breath hot. “You like it?”

You shiver. “Fuck…” You reach for him like instinct, reflex almost. He presses a kiss on your cheek.

The way he’s looking at you now, like he’s starving, makes your mouth go dry. His eyes drag over your body like he’s trying to memorize the exact way you’re spread out on his bed: skirt pushed halfway up your thighs, panties just barely peeking out; lips, red and kiss-swollen; cheeks flushed; top pushed up revealing your stomach; your breath still catching in small, desperate gasps.

“You’re in my room now, baby. No one’s saving you.”

You don’t want to be saved.

You want him.

The look in his eyes, a mix of danger and the certainty, makes something deep inside you clench so hard you nearly let out a soft moan.

“You think I forgot how to touch you?” he murmurs, pressing his palm to your bare thigh again, slowly trailing upwards as he hovers above you. “Think I forgot what your body does when I kiss you here?”

His lips press to your jaw, soft at first, then wetter. Lower. Your pulse thunders.

His hands are moving like they have all night. He pushes your top up even more, inch by inch. Riki watches as the skin of your chest begins to appear like it’s some sacred thing. His fingers trace the edges of your ribs, your waist, the faint dip of your stomach. He finally removes your top, leaving you spread out in your bra. Every touch burns.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this again,” he whispers, and his lips drag just below your collarbone. “How many times I thought about your mouth. Your thighs. The way you sound when I make you fall apart, whether on my hands, my tongue,” he licks a stripe just under your ear. “or my cock.”

You’re gasping now, hands tangled in his hair as he sucks another bruise into your skin, marks that you’ll definitely have to hide tomorrow, right above your chest.

“And you,” he says, lifting his head again. “You came into that closet acting like you didn’t miss me. Like you could handle me being that close.”

He smirks, wicked and smug.

“But you couldn’t. Could you?”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. In any other situation you would be irritated, embarrassed by his words, but right now hearing him speak in such a teasing way just makes the heat between pooling between your thighs burn even hotter.

He leans down again, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then your throat. He mouths down your chest, pausing just above your bra.

“You couldn’t even last two minutes before you were grinding on me again like you never left.”

“Riki-”

That name. His name, low and breathy from your lips, drives him insane. He groans, like it short-circuits his brain. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

His lips meet yours again, rushed, hot, possessive. He swallows the gasp you let out when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your skirt. Palming against your panties, heat seeping through against your clothed pussy.

Just resting there. Right where you want him. It’s maddening.

Your whole body pulses with need.

“You’re this wet already?” he mutters, breathless. “Fuck.”

You grind up with a whimper, cursing your panties in your mind for getting in the way of having his hands on your pussy again.

He pulls back.

“No,” he says, voice low and firm. “Let me take my time.”

His mouth returns to your stomach, your chest, dragging up further. His hand reaches behind your back and you arch just enough to allow him to unclasp your bra. He does so in one swift motion, your breasts now on full display.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He mumbles before quickly leaning down to trail kisses around one of your tits while he squeezes the other with his free hand.

“Fuck- Riki!” You moan out, when you feel his tongue flick against your nipple in between sucks. He alternates between your tits, making sure both of them get equal treatment. Your hand fists the sheets.

His mouth leaves your chest with a pop and you moan. Riki inches down slowly, painfully so, peeling your skirt off of you. All you can do is look down and watch.

He looks up at you from between your legs. His eyes are blown wide, dark with lust, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“I want you to remember every fucking second of this.”

You whimper, head tilting back, and he leans in, close to your most sensitive spot. He peppers kisses down your inner thighs, maintaining eye contact the whole time. You’re soaked.

He’s groaning, teeth gritted, like he’s holding himself back by a thread.

Then after leaving small kisses and bites just under the area where your thigh meets your underwear, his head perks up, and his thumb rubs small circles on your leg.

“Tell me you want it. Say it. Say you want me to ruin you.”

“I want it,” you breathe, choking on it. “Riki, please-”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

He moans. Actually moans. Like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

His hand finally moves. His fingers now dragging your soaked panties down and off of you before placing them gently aside. The cold air hits you and you shiver under his gaze, fully bare and spread out. All for him.

His head hovers just above your glistening pussy, strong hands holding your legs apart, placing them so that they go over his shoulders, giving him full access to your cunt.

“You want it now?” he says, you can feel his breath fanning over you. “Right here?”

God, he’s still such a tease.

You nod. Mouth parted and breathless, and he leans in.

Riki gives one long, slow lick up your slit, tongue flat and pressure hard, immediately making you arch with a soft moan. He holds on your legs with more force to keep you from squirming too much as he works kitten licks upon your aching pussy.

“I missed tasting you,” he pants in between licks. His tongue worked hard on your slit, his head now moving with small bobs which cause his nose to brush against your sensitive clit every single time. The feeling is overwhelming, moans escaping your lips while eats you out like he’s been starving.

Riki then starts pushing his tongue into your slick hole. “Ahh, oh my god!” You groan, your fingers tugging on his blond locks. The feeling makes him groan, creating a wave of vibration right against your pussy. Your eyes roll back in pleasure.

His tongue swipes up and down along your wet folds, making sure to explore every part of you. You twitch beneath him, a breathy moan resonates through the room before you can even stop it.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmurs against your skin. “Like your body never forgot me.”

You try to respond, to sass back, to say something, but then his mouth latches on you again, tongue flat and unrelenting.

Your head hits the pillow with a whimper.

“Fuck- Riki-”

That only makes him groan harder.

“I told you what that name does to me,” he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. “Say it again.”

“Riki!”

He sucks at your clit, hard, and your hips shoot off the bed.

He pins them down immediately, strong hands curling around your waist, holding you there like he owns every inch of you. Lapping at your soaking pussy.

And fuck, maybe he does.

No one else has ever made you feel like this. None of your past boyfriends; and none of your hook ups from after you broke up with Riki, desperately trying to get over him.

You barely even notice the sound of the front door opening from the main space of the dorm.

Not until you hear a faint laugh. A voice.

Jake.

Riki’s roommate.

Your eyes go wide. Riki doesn’t stop.

“Riki- Ah! Jake’s back-” you whisper, voice shaking as he fuck you open with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop.

In fact, he smirks.

“Yeah,” he says, lifting his head, lips and chin glistening. “I know.”

“Riki…”

He leans up, mouth ghosting over your ear.

“I want him to hear,” he whispers, teeth grazing your skin. “Want him to know who you belong to.”

The way he says it, low, confident, possessive, makes your entire body seize with heat.

And then he’s kissing you again. Hard, desperate. He makes you taste yourself, your own juices, as he works his tongue deep into your mouth, pushing against your own. The filthiness of the whole situation makes you lightheaded in the best way.

He grabs your wrist, lifts it over your head, and pins it there against the mattress. Then the other. He hovers above you with a dangerous look in his eye. His lips all swollen and his eyes dazed from eating you out. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick, and makes you watch as he licks it all up. Eye contact never wavers. A chill runs through you.

“You’re not holding back tonight,” he says leaning down, breath hot against your neck. “Not anymore.”

“Riki please, fuck me already…” you whimper, squirming under him. Your need grows with every passing second. “Want your cock inside me please-”

Riki grins, his eyes darkening at the sight of you, horny underneath him. “Shh, good girls are patient.” he whispers, voice deep. You whine.

His lips meet yours. It’s messy. He’s undoing his jeans and your hands immediately reach out to join his to help him. Once unzipped and pulled down, he kicks them off, jeans falling to the ground as your thumbs dips beneath the waistband of his boxers. You look up at him for approval, chest heaving. He gives you a small nod, need evident in his expression. You pull the fabric down and his cock springs out. Long, hard, and twitching. Precum forming on his pink tip.

“Good girl,” He groans, “see what you do to me? Hm?”

You don’t respond, instead you reach out and wrap a hand around his sensitive cock, your thumb smearing the precum across his tip. Your touch sends his head tilting back with a drawn out moan as you stroke firm but slow.

“Fuck… baby, let me take care of it”

Finally, Riki grabs his length, stroking a few times, before he drags it across your wet folds. Your slick drips onto his cock with every drag. You feel his tip nudge against your clit a few times, making you jolt underneath him. After deciding it’s coated enough, he positions himself comfortably above you, lining his thick cock up against your aching hole, and slowly pushes in.

You gasp. Loud.

Riki watches your expression as he sinks into you. His hips lower against yours until his cock is fully wrapped around your warm, gummy walls. The intrusion makes your head spin, it’s too much. Too good. God, did you miss how he filled you up.

“Fuck!” you cry out, head thrown back as your eyebrows furrow. His hand finds it’s place at the curve where your hip meets your thigh, holding you for maximum leverage as he braces to begin thrusting, waiting for you to make that expression, the one that you always made when you had adjusted to his size and were ready. One he never forgot and had been hoping to see again.

“That’s it,” he groans, teeth gritted. “Let me fucking hear you. Let everyone hear you.”

He starts to move, slow at first, grinding deep with every thrust. It’s like he’s trying to etch the shape of you back into his memory. Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking and he sinks even deeper. His thrusts increase in speed by a fraction, eliciting soft moans out of you everytime his hips made contact with yours, cock buried deep within you.

“Oh my god- Riki!”

“You missed this?” he hisses. “You missed my cock, didn’t you? You’re so tight.” He readjusts his grip on your hip as he essentially drags you up and down on his length, helping him reach deeper into you. Your hands run down his bare chest, feeling the soft dips where his abs are, defined and displayed perfectly above you. Your fingers slow when they meet his large rib tattoo, moving over inked skin.

You nod, breathless.

“You missed the way I ruin you?”

His pace picks up and Riki growls. His calculated thrusts turning into something rougher. He pounds into you, the sound of skin on skin resonating through the room as his balls slam hard against your backside at the speed he’s fucking you dumb.

The headboard bumps the wall, rhythmic and obvious. A hand of his reaches down to grab one of your tits, which at this point were bouncing along with his movement, squeezing and twisting your nipple. “Ngh… fuck!” Every breath you take is mixed with a groan at how good he’s making you feel.

You attempt to bite your lip to muffle the sounds you’re releasing, concerned about how loud you’re getting alongside the knowledge that you two were no longer the only ones in the dorm. Riki notices and grabs your face, firm but not harsh.

“No,” he says, voice sharp. “Don’t do that. Let it out.”

You’re panting now, sobbing moans, your legs starting to shake. Your hands grip Riki’s back, trying to hold onto him as he continues to ram his cock into your wet pussy. Your nails lightly digging into the skin of his back.

“Let Jake hear you fall apart for me. F-Fuck… You couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” He angles his hips upwards, allowing him to fuck you open so much deeper. The new angle makes you see stars, you yelp out in pleasure.

“I love your noises, fuck… No one makes you feel the way I do, hm?”

You moan again, the loudest you think you’ve ever been. He lets out a groan in response, guttural, slamming into you harder. “Your pussy got so soaked for me baby, just from kissing too. Filthy girl.”

That nickname does something to you. You instinctively clench around him, he grunts. “Ah, don’t squeeze like that-”

It’s insane. The heat, the friction, the way he holds you down like you’re his to break.

“Louder, baby,” he grits. “Be good for me.”

Your whole body tightens, you’re now writhing beneath him, trembling.

Riki just watches everything. The way your face contorts with every thrust. The way your tits sway below him, chest rising and falling rapidly. The way his cock disappears within you with every drag.

You’re close.

He knows.

So he slows down.

You whimper. “No- please- don’t stop-”

“I said I’d take my time,” he growls, leaning down to leave kisses down your throat. “You don’t get to come until I say.”

“Riki!”

His mouth moves and he crashes his lips onto yours. Hot and wet, dragging his tongue over them before pulling back and whispering. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe. “I’ve always been yours.”

Riki lets out a shaky breath. His hands adjusting on your sides for maximum grip, holding you so tight you wonder if it’s beginning to bruise.

He looks into your eyes, expression filled with desire, and he drives into you with a new kind of urgency.

You scream.

Riki’s pace never falters even as your body begins to fall apart under him. He fucks you through it all, hard. His lips latch on your neck, voice in your ear, low and ragged and full of things he never used to say.

“I missed this. Missed you.” The filthy sounds of your skin slapping against one another echoed through the room that now smelled of pure sex. “You were always the only one, Y/N. F-fuck…”

“Ahh harder! Harder, Riki please-” You whine, embarrassingly loud but in this moment, you don’t really care.

“Look at me Y/N. Keep your eyes on me.” Riki pants, his thrusts strong but growing sloppy, a sign he too was getting close. He slams into you with hunger, cock piercing through you. “Wanna watch you when you come.”

The sound of the headboard slamming harshly against the wall rings out. You make sure to look up at Riki the whole time. With every shattering slam of his cock into your core, you hold onto him a little tighter. His back, biceps, whatever is in reach. His hand reaches down and starts to rub your clit frantically, in sync with his movements. The sensations quickly become overwhelming.

You can feel the coil winding tighter, threatening to snap at any second. “Oh my god- Fuck! Riki im gonna- Ah!”

“Come on my cock baby.”

He drives into you with such precision and force, his fingers working overtime on your swollen clit. Soon, you feel your release come over you, and you’re shaking in his arms, completely drenching the sheets beneath you. Your mouth opens in ecstasy with a scream of his name, “Riki!” and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He fucks you through it.

“Fuck baby, look at you” Riki admires your flushed state beneath him as his movements grow even sloppier than before. “I’m gonna fill you so good.”

Suddenly you feel his warm juices spilling into your fucked out pussy, his hips pressed up against you. He groans, long and drawn out, right by your ear. His head bows down into your shoulder as he rides out his high, thrusts slowing before stopping completely, cock milked dry.

You can feel his chest heaving atop your own, and before you can register it, you’re wrapping your arms around his warm body, pulling him closer. Both of you in a fucked out daze.

Riki pants, pressing a soft and slow kiss against your cheek, bodies still interlinked. “You’re unreal. I missed you so fucking much Y/N.” It comes out breathless, but his words ignite something warm in your chest. You know, deep down, that this isn’t just a one-night mistake. This is you, unraveling all over again.

For him, only him.

And maybe, you’re okay with it.

You lose track of how many times he makes you come.

Some with his fingers, others with his mouth.

Another when he has you on your knees on the bed, hands braced against the wall, his voice rasping filth in your ear as he rams into you from behind.

That one nearly ends you.

Because that’s the wall that connects his bedroom to his roommates’.

To Jake’s bedroom.

Of course, Riki was well aware of that fact, and he is absolutely insane.

He presses you hard against the wall, one hand’s long fingers curled firmly around your throat just enough to make your breath hitch, his other hand on your hips as he guided you back onto his length from behind.

“Think he can hear you?” he whispers against your ear, cock buried so deep it makes your vision blur. “The way you’re moaning for me?”

You gasp, clenching around him involuntarily. Your sounds are smaller than usual due to the nerve-wracking situation that was being fucked right up against Riki’s roomates’ wall. He would definitely hear if he wasn’t dead asleep or something similar. “Ngh- Riki!”

“Oh? She’s shy now?” he taunts, grinning against your shoulder that had now been plastered with bruises and bites. “You weren’t shy when I had my tongue in you twenty minutes ago.”

He thrusts again, deliberately. Deep and slow, drawing a long moan out of you that makes heat seep to your cheeks. The kind of thrust that makes your whole body jerk forward and thump lightly against the wall. You attempt to choke on your moans. Try to stifle them against your arm.

Riki did not like that. He rams into you harder.

“Tsk. None of that.”

You shake your head, whining. “I can’t- he’ll hear-”

He continues to wreck your fucked hole with precision. The knowledge that you two might be heard did turn you on, but the tinge of embarrassment was still there, hence you trying to silence yourself. A hard task when Riki is just too damn good at fucking you.

“I want him to hear, baby” He breathes lowly, voice wrecked. “Let him know that you missed me too.”

When you cry out; high and breathless and creaming on his cock once again, both your slicks mixing and dripping down your thighs and his balls; he smiles.

It goes on for hours.

Different positions, different angles, even different parts of the bed. Your legs shake with the effort of keeping up. You love it.

You can’t stop moaning, gasping his name like a lifeline. Like it’s the only word you know. Every time you think he’s finally done, he kisses you again before pushing your legs apart.

“Just one more,” he whispers. “You can do it. I haven’t ruined you enough yet.”

It’s not just about sex.

It’s about claiming. About making sure you never forget what it’s like to be his.

Now, you never want to forget.

By the time he finally presses you into the mattress for the last time, with a low and desperate groan, filling you up with his seed that seeps out the moment he pulls out, you’re gone.

Sweaty? Yes.

Fucked out in every way? Yes.

But are you smiling? God, yes.

You’re so high on him that you feel like you could float.

He disappears to the bathroom for a moment and comes back with a damp cloth, cleaning you up, his hands gentle around your swollen pussy, utmost care laced in how he navigates his hands. Your comfort is his priority. Riki brushes your hair off your forehead like he didn’t just completely destroy you for the past three hours.

Afterwards, you collapse on top of him. Both still naked, skin to skin, but neither of you minded. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek.

He holds you, and doesn’t let go.

Soon, you’re overcome with sleep, lips swollen, legs sore, every inch of you aching; but in the best way possible.

You don’t know how long you were out for. Could be anywhere from ten minutes to two hours, but when you open your eyes slightly, it’s still dark, still quiet.

Riki is still awake, one arm propped up under his head on the pillow, the other still wrapped around you.

He hasn’t noticed you’ve woken up, fingers running through your hair, slow and thoughtful. You keep your breathing steady, trying to drift back to sleep, when he says something that you don’t expect.

“I’ll do anything to keep you like this.” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

His words are so raw that it splinters something inside you, the edge of hurt evident in the soft way he spoke.

You open your eyes discreetly, looking up at him. His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched as his hands mindlessly play with your hair, eyes on the ceiling.

You didn’t leave because you wanted to. You left because you had to. Because loving Riki felt like drowning.

But now? It was clear that he had changed.

You weren’t finding yourself falling once again because of the sex, though admittedly that was the best you’d ever been fucked, it was because of him.

How now his touch, no matter innocent or filthy, was always laced with absolute care.

How he now looked at you with a spark in his eye, like you meant the world to him.

How his words now came out more genuine and natural than they used to.

You two had fucked many times before, but this time was different, he was different.

You don’t respond. You don’t let him know that you had woken up. Instead, you simply wrap your arms around him just a little tighter, face buried a little deeper in the crook of his neck.

He tenses for a second, you feel it, before he relaxes against you, pulling you close.

The ache in your chest has never felt more like home.

You two wake intertwined the next morning, surprisingly early considering the time you had stayed up until, pressed all over one another.

After a slow morning of soft kisses in bed, you agreed to talk about where you stood after getting some nutrition in your systems.

So now, you’re sat on the kitchen counter, wearing one of Riki’s old hoodies as he attempted to put togehter a very healthy breakfast of pancakes. You watched his every move, he was trying so hard not to mess up after a failed flip led to pancake batter all over the floor just a few minutes prior. Lots of laughs were let out when that happened.

Then suddenly,

A slow clap.

You both freeze.

Jake’s leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, which led right into the kitchen area of the main space of the dorm. His arms crossed and expression blank, except for the shit-eating grin playing at his lips. Oh god…

“Well, well, well,” he drawls.

Riki groans under his breath.

You turn beet red.

“You two are disgusting.”

All you can do is smile apologetically.

THANK YOU FOR READING! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[authorhjk1]

For your color challenge Winter for white. Idk it just makes sense mb if you got rules for these requests as this is my first one and I found your blog recently

Snow White

(Winter X Male Reader) Worcount: 864 words

You've been a fan of Aespa and especially Winter way before you and her first went on a date. You expected her to be the same on and off camera and you were right. At least regarding most things.

There's just one thing you can't really get used to. One thing even her members can't get used to. One thing that made you question her sanity when she first suggested it. Turns out Winter likes someone to watch her while she has sex. You offered to take a video of her or something as a compromise, but Winter didn't budge. And after trying it out once, you realized how different she can get while getting fucked in front of an audience.

Too bad that the only people that won't start a scandal or anything when they see her having sex are her members. That's why Karina, Giselle and Ningning have now become your involuntary audience.

Just thinking about getting fucked in front of them has Winter dripping wet. Eventually she offered to be your free use girlfriend just for fun. You're allowed to use her whenever you want.

Just like right now. You and all the members are currently at the set of a photoshoot. Winter is already done with her pictures, while the others still have to take theirs. Ningning is gone right now, while Karina and Giselle can't help but watch you having your way with Winter. Your girlfriend is bent over a makeup table as you fuck her from behind. Giselle is holding her phone, pretending not to look, but she can help herself. Every few seconds her eyes dart toward a moaning Winter. Karina on the other hand is just bluntly staring. Her eyes follow every one of your thrusts as you use your girlfriend's pussy as a fleshlight.

"Oh, so big."

Winter's cute moans and whines fill the room. You'll never get tired of how cute she sounds while she's getting fucked. It's an interesting contrast. Her sweet voice. The lewd sounds escaping her lips. Her words that tell you to ruin her further.

You reach out to take a fistful of her hair, making Winter arch her back further.

"Yes, please use me."

She cries out, her thighs trembling under your thrusts.

Unbeknownst to you, Karina isn't just watching anymore. One of her hands has found itself inside her panties. Her fingers rub her clit to the rhythm of your thrusts. She bites her lip to prevent any moans.

Meanwhile, Winter is freely voicing her pleasure. Her voice fills the entire room as you continue to drive yourself into her. Her tight pussy feels amazing around your cock. Its walls clench onto your length. It feels like you bottom out inside of her whenever you push forward. Her juices make your thrusts smoother, enabling you to fuck her even harder.

"Oh god! Oh god!"

Winter stares at herself through the mirror. One of your hands in her hair, the other on her small waist. Her eyes dark with lust. Her lips quivering. She looks beautiful and totally messed up at the same time.

"Unnie, it's your turn."

Ningning has come back after her pictures have been taken. But Giselle can't hear her over Winter's cries.

"Unnie!"

She finally looks at Ningning.

"Your turn."

Giselle leaves the room, while Ningning gets comfortable next to Karina. She doesn't notice that the oldest is touching herself to what's going on right in front of her. And Winter hasn't realized that she and Giselle traded places.

"Damn, Winter your pussy is so tight."

You groan into her ear as you feel your orgasm closing in. Your girlfriend responds with a shaky moan. By now her eyes have rolled to the back of her head. Her whole body is shaking. Her legs are trembling and you feel her melt under your thrusts.

"Oppa...!"

She cries out and finally orgasms around your cock. Her pussy squeezes you hard. You're overwhelmed by the sudden increase of pleasure and you can't help but climax as well. The two of you ride out your orgasms together. Winter feels your load fill her cunt, while you feel her juices drenching your cock.

Somewhere behind you Karina lets out a moan as well. Ningning tears her gaze from the cup of noodles she was holding to watch her leader orgasm right next to her. Karina cums with a sigh, ruining her panties.

"This is so hot, oppa."

Winter sighs, looking at you through the mirror.

"C-Can you go again?"

You release your grip on her hair and slowly start to pull out of her wet warmth.

"Give me a minute."

Catching your breath, you watch your cum leaking out your girlfriend's freshly fucked pussy. She turns around, her thighs still shaking a little.

"I'll take care of you then, oppa."

She pushes you backwards. You find yourself sitting next to Karina. Winter gets on her knees in front of you and captures the tip of your cock with mouth. Karina and Ningning are forced to watch how Winter gives you head. All four of you know she's going to ride you right after that, until today's schedule is over.

----------

Hi everyone!

Since I got another Winter request around that time and this one didn't have a picture, I merged these two together. I got the other one through my DMs and was asked if I could write a similar story to Irene's Green chapter.

I hope you all enjoyed it.

Stay healthy!

[queen-of-gotham]

Practically Superman

(Divorced!Single-Dad!Clark Kent x New-Mom!Reader)

Word Count: 4,290

Synopsis: Your sister passed away and now you’re raising her 8 month old twins, Liam and Eloise. You get an unexpected alley to your village.

Warnings: Mentions of death, single parents, divorce

Notes from the Batcave: for ✨this✨ request. Thank you so much for the idea, beautiful! ❤️ @foxycrafterofgreenwood

It’s Monday morning, and there are a hundred things you can do with one hand, open doors, microwave coffee, even type if you’re desperate. But juggling a diaper bag, a laptop case, a half-folded stroller, and two increasingly wriggly eight month olds?

That’s where your talents tap out.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll have them out of here by lunch,” you mumble as you bump through the revolving doors of the Daily Planet, trying not to make eye contact with security. One twin, the boy, Liam, is strapped to your chest in a carrier, the other, a girl, Eloise, is perched on your hip like a little barnacle with drool. Your laptop bag is digging into your shoulder.

Your babysitter’s exact words this morning? “I forgot I had an eyelash extension appointment.”

You’re rethinking non-violence.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Perry White’s voice cuts across the lobby like a thunderclap. You freeze. Liam lets out a squawk.

“Sir,” you say, adjusting your grip. “I had no choice-“

“Get upstairs,” he grunts, barely sparing the twins a glance. “Deadline’s still noon. The babies don’t get you an extension unless they write the piece themselves.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, already hustling for the elevator, cheeks burning.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

You set the twins on a blanket beside your desk with a pile of teething toys and a silent prayer to every deity known to man. You open your draft. Type three words. Backspace two of them.

Eloise gurgles. Liam is already chewing on a sticky note.

You’re two minutes away from crying when someone taps your desk.

“Need backup?”

You glance up, and there he is. Clark Kent, in all his rumpled button-down, soft-smiled glory. He’s got a coffee in each hand and the kind of expression people use with wild deer. Or new parents.

You’re not sure which you resemble more right now.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, tempted to ask if one of those cups is for you.

It is. He hands it over without a word.

“Bless you,” you whisper.

“I heard about the babysitter,” Clark says, crouching next to the twins. His glasses slide a little down his nose as Eloise immediately grabs his tie like it’s a lifeline, He doesn’t even flinch. “These two yours?”

You hesitate.

“They’re my niece and nephew. My sister passed a few months ago. I got custody.”

Clark looks up at you slowly, his tie still in a tiny fist, “I’m sorry.”

You nod, pressing your lips together, “Me too.”

“Ma used to say a baby in the newsroom is good luck,” he says, glancing over at Liam, who is now shoving the edge of the blanket into his mouth, “That might be a lie.”

You laugh, and it catches you off guard. It feels good to do that again.

“They’re teething. And possibly possessed.” You warn jokingly.

“Well,” Clark says, unbothered, “I’ve raised one through that phase. I’ve got two though. Boys. If you want a break to write, I can sit with them for a bit. Promise not to lose either.”

Your instinct is to say no. To prove you can do this alone. But when you look down, the twins are staring at Clark like he’s a lighthouse in a storm.

And you’re tired, and feel like he is one.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Just for twenty minutes.”

Clark smiles. “Take thirty. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

You start to thank him, and then you realize Perry is watching through the glass office window with an eyebrow raised.

“She’s Eloise, He’s Liam, everything you might-“

“Diaper bag.” He answers like he’s done this before, which you guess he has if he’s had one.

“Thank you, Clark.” He nods, his smile warm, picking the babies up effortlessly and taking them to breakfast room so you can work in peace. 

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

You hit “send” on your article two minutes before your deadline with a sigh that borders on a sob. The kind of sigh that says ‘I have survived something’, like a natural disaster, or teething twins in a workplace that has exactly one changing table and zero emotional support dogs.

When you glance over, expecting to see a toddler crime scene, your jaw actually drops.

Eloise is laid back in the stroller, a tiny fist tucked under her cheek, sleeping soundly. Liam is in Clark’s lap, out cold, his face smushed into his chest.

Clark is typing one handed. And still somehow faster than you.

“You’re a witch,” you whisper, standing and stretching your spine with a crack, before walking over to him, “Or a baby whisperer. Either way, I’m terrified and impressed.”

Clark grins, cheeks flushed just a little. “Took a walk around the archives floor. Dim lights, steady pacing. Worked on mine to knock him out.”

“They both napped?” You look at your kids like they betrayed you, “That hasn’t happened since April. What are you, enchanted?”

He shrugs, clearly amused, “Years of experience. Mine are 9 and 17 now, You either learn the magic or you lose your mind.”

You look at him. The way he cradles Liam like second nature, like he forgot he was doing it. The warmth in his eyes. The slight slump in his shoulders that says he’s been tired, too.

“Okay,” you murmur, “But seriously. Can you move in?”

You meant it as a joke, but his smile softens, “I’d probably trip over every toy in your house and drink all your coffee.”

“So a perfect roommate,” you quip, bending to tuck the blanket around Eloise a little better, “God, Clark. I owe you one.”

“You don’t,” he says, gently, “But if you ever need a break- or someone to tag in, even just for a grocery run, you can call me. Really. I know what it’s like. You give and give and sometimes it still feels like you’re barely holding it together.”

Your throat tightens. Not from exhaustion, for once. From how seen you feel in that exact moment.

You swallow, nodding, “That’s exactly how it feels.”

He glances down at Liam, who makes a sleepy little grunt and drools a bit more on his shirt, Clark doesn’t even blink.

“Then let someone help this time,” he says softly, “We’re not meant to do it all alone.”

You blink fast. Look at your sleeping kids. Then back at him.

“You really are dangerous with that Midwestern charm,” you say, voice light to keep your heart from spilling out onto the carpet.

Clark just smiles, “ Don’t tell Perry. He still thinks I’m intimidating.”

You both laugh, quiet, so you don’t wake the babies.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

Your phone rings while you’re elbow deep in laundry and Eloise is shrieking at a stuffed giraffe and shaking like it owed her money

You swipe it off the couch and press it to your shoulder, “Please tell me you’re calling with good news and not another deadline.”

“Depends,” Clark says, voice warm and low. You can hear the smile, “Does ice cream count as good news?”

You freeze, “Clark. Don’t tease me unless you mean it.”

“I mean it. Jon and I were heading out and we thought maybe the twins could come with. You can come too, of course. You look like you could use a break at work yesterday.”

You glance over. Liam is trying to chew the TV remote, “I’m in. Absolutely. Desperate. Jon okay with the chaos?”

“He asked if we could bring them. He’s a sucker for babies. We’ll be there in fifteen?”

You pause, heart tugging, “You’re seriously too good.”

Clark chuckles. “Nah. I just remember how heavy everything felt. Thought maybe I could help you carry it for a while.”

And that little sentiment makes your heart flip in your chest a bit.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

You step out of the car with a diaper bag the size of a survival pack, one baby on each hip, and your hair in a bun that’s seen better days.

And then you see them.

Jon Kent, standing on tiptoes to peek through the window of the shop, practically vibrating with excitement. He turns as you approach and lights up.

“They’re so tiny,” he whispers like he’s in a library, eyes huge. “Hi, babies. I’m Jon.”

Eloise stares. Liam reaches out and immediately grabs a fistful of his curls.

“He likes you,” you say, wincing a little at Jon’s expression of ‘ow-but-I-will-not-complain.’

“He can have my hair. It’s fine,” Jon says solemnly, gently detangling himself. “They smell like baby shampoo and something sweet.”

“Spit-up,” Clark says mildly, arriving beside him with a handful of napkins and a knowing smile, “That’s the smell.”

You laugh, letting yourself lean into the moment. For once, you’re not on high alert. The twins are calm. You’re… not alone.

As you settle into a booth and start spooning vanilla into Eloise’s mouth while Liam kicks his heels happily against the high chair, you glance at Clark.

“Where’s Conner?” you ask, sipping your milkshake.

Jon answers for him, snorting into his root beer float, “He’s seventeen,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Too cool to be seen eating ice cream with his dad, his little brother, and two babies. Tragic.”

Clark chuckles, “He says he has ‘plans.’ I think that means he’s on the roof with headphones pretending not to like Taylor Swift.”

“I knew he was a Swiftie,” you say under your breath, grinning, thinking about the boy you met briefly when Clark brought you by some groceries, ‘just because’ a week ago, “The brooding ones always are.”

Jon giggles, and then immediately starts playing peekaboo with Eloise, who responds by squealing like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

And for a moment, in a booth that smells like chocolate syrup, with a sticky tabletop, everything feels okay.

You look over at Clark, sleeves rolled, laughter in his eyes, watching all three kids like they’re his whole world.

And something inside you loosens, your guard slowly dropping.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

“You cooked?” you say, eyebrows raised as Clark pulls a tray of lasagna from the oven like some kind of domestic Greek god. He’d invited you over for dinner, and you had honestly expected pizza or something.

He shrugs, cheeks a little pink, “I feed two growing boys. I’ve got range.”

You’re still skeptical, but it smells like dinner and not like burnt hopes, so you settle Eloise onto the floor and kick off your shoes at the door. Liam is already in Jon’s lap like he’s lived there his whole life, Jon having stole him as soon as he came in.

Conner, meanwhile, is doing his best impression of a statue at the other end of the couch. He’s just come in from a run, earbuds still around his neck, sweat drying in his curls, and you could swear he tried to ghost out of the apartment before being spotted.

But Eloise had other plans. She crawled right over to him like she knew he was the most emotionally constipated person in the room.

Now she’s leaning on his knee, having used it to stand on wobbly feet, Slobbering on it, technically. Conner is staring at her like she’s a bomb with no instructions.

You’re sipping water when Clark sits next to you with a soft grunt, wiping his hands on a towel.

“She likes him,” he murmurs, nodding toward Eloise.

“I can’t tell if he’s frozen with fear or just hoping she forgets he exists.”

“She’s not going to forget,” Clark says, voice warm with amusement, “Once a baby chooses you, you’re doomed.”

You look over just in time to see Liam also crawl toward Conner, and without hesitation, grab his shoelace and start chewing on it.

Conner stares down at both babies. Then glances at you. Then Clark.

“Uh…” he says, holding very, very still, “Do I… stop them?”

You’re about to answer when Clark casually says, “They’re fine. You’re doing great.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Conner mutters.

“That’s the secret,” you say, grinning. “Babies don’t want effort. They want proximity.”

Eloise climbs into his lap like it’s her job. She thuds her forehead into his chest and sighs.

Conner looks so betrayed

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

The babies are finally down, both in the pack and play Clark set up in his room for you. You’re curled on Clark’s couch, legs tucked under you, hair frizzing out, and feeling weirdly relaxed. Clark’s next to you, sipping tea. Casual… Too casual.

“So,” he starts, eyes on his mug, “Ma wants to meet them.”

You blink, “Who? The twins?”

“Yeah. I might’ve… mentioned them. Once or twice.”

You tilt your head, “How many times is ‘once or twice’?”

Clark shrugs like a man not ready to confront the truth, “She sent a whole care package. For Liam’s eczema. And teething biscuits. And a doll for Eloise.

Your heart softens, “That’s… actually so sweet.”

He leans back, still acting like this is no big deal. “She makes dinner every Sunday. It’s usually loud and full of unsolicited advice, but there’s always pie. You could come by. If you wanted. It’s out in Smallville.”

You try not to let your eyes get too wide, “Like… a family dinner?”

Clark nods, “Yeah. Just us. And Ma. And the boys. No pressure.”

You glance toward the hallway, where the twins are sleeping, and then back at him, And you realize… it doesn’t feel like pressure. It feels like an invitation into something steady and real.

You nudge him with your knee, “If there’s pie, I’m in.”

He smiles down at his tea like he’s trying not to grin too hard, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, heart fluttering. “We’d love too.”

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

You triple checked the address because you couldn’t quite believe it was real.

A farm.

You pull off the gravel road and up the long, tree lined driveway, heart fluttering like it’s prom night instead of Sunday dinner. The house is everything you’d expect from Clark Kent’s upbringing, white-painted siding, a wraparound porch, a barn in the distance, and the smell of sun-warmed hay drifting through the windows.

And there on the front lawn, they’re all there.

Clark. In a Henley and jeans, barefoot on the grass. Tossing a football to Jon, who’s laughing so hard he almost falls over. Conner is leaning against a fence post, pretending not to care but still catching every throw. And next to them, a tall older man, Clark’s dad presumably, lobs the ball back with practiced ease.

You roll to a stop, heart already softening.

Clark turns.

The grin that spreads across his face nearly knocks you out.

He jogs toward the car like he’s been waiting all day for this… And maybe he has.

You’re barely out of the driver’s seat before he’s opening the back door and peeking in.

“Hey there, Eloise. Hey, Liam,” he coos, voice low and tender. “You guys ready to charm my entire family?”

You laugh, hoisting the diaper bag over your shoulder. “Only if they forgive Eloise for spitting on things when she’s happy.”

“She’ll fit right in,” Clark says, reaching in to unbuckle Liam with the kind of effortless confidence that makes your heart twist. “Come on. You guys are the guests of honor.”

You glance back at the field. Jon is waving excitedly. Conner gives you a chin-nod, which you think is his version of a decent hello.

Clark shifts Liam to his hip and grabs the bag from your shoulder with his free hand like it’s second nature.

You blink at him, “You sure you can handle all that?”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling as he jokes, “I could carry a tractor if I wanted.”

“Oh, excuse me, Superman,” you say, mockingly, not that you knew the truth yet.

He smirks and you look at him, the baby in one arm, your bag in the other, grin stretched wide across his face, and something warm settles deep in your chest.

You feel safe. Wanted. Home.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

Clark holds the door open with his foot, one arm full of Liam (still drooling happily on his shirt), the diaper bag slung over his shoulder. You trail behind, carrying Eloise, who is wide eyed and clutching a fistful of your shirt.

Inside smells like cinnamon and warm butter and fresh coffee. The floors creak in a comforting way, and sunlight pours in through gingham curtains. The whole house feels like a hug. And standing in the doorway to the kitchen is her.

Ma Kent.

Small, sturdy, and sharp eyed, apron tied around her waist and a pie cooling on the windowsill behind her like she’s out of a movie. She takes one look at you, at the babies, and gasps softly.

“Oh my stars. Look at them!” she says, hands clasped like she’s witnessing something sacred.

“Ma,” Clark starts, already chuckling.

But she sweeps past him, beelining straight for you.

“And you!” she says, taking you in head to toe, eyes twinkling. “Clark said you were sweet, pretty but he didn’t say you were this pretty.”

You blink. Then side eye Clark with a slow, knowing grin.

He’s already red. Like, neck-to-ears red. He clears his throat. “Ma…”

“Oh, hush,” she waves him off, already reaching for Eloise. “May I hold her?”

“Of course,” you say, handing Eloise over gently. Eloise stares at her for half a second before shoving two fingers in her mouth and cuddling right into Ma Kent’s shoulder.

“Well, she’s a smart one,” Ma murmurs, “She knows who’s got pie cooling.”

Liam lets out a squeak from Clark’s arm, clearly offended he’s being left out.

“Pa!” she calls over her shoulder, “Come see these angels before I steal them both!”

Jonathan Kent walks in, wiping his hands on a cloth and already grinning. “Well, look at that. These must be the twins Clark keeps going on about.”

You blink again, head turning slowly toward Clark, who is now studying the ceiling like it’s fascinating.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, tilting your head, “You talk about us, Clark?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean… in passing…”

“Every day,” Jon says, popping in from the hallway, “Literally every day. I hear him on the phone with Grandma gushing.”

Ma gently pinches Clark’s cheek as she bounces Eloise, “Can you blame him? Look at this little dumpling. You’re lucky I don’t have a crib set up upstairs.”

Clark mutters something under his breath about going to the barn.

You reach out, squeeze his arm, grinning, “It’s okay. I talk about you too.”

He glances down at you, blue eyes soft, a real smile tugging at his lips, but before he can say anything, Liam lets out a belch loud enough to rattle the pie tin on the counter.

“Now that’s a country boy in the making,” Pa Kent says, already reaching out for him.

Clark hands Liam over and mumbles, “We should’ve brought more bibs…”

“Don’t worry,” Ma says brightly. “I’ve got baby supplies for days. You think this is my first rodeo?” She winks at you. “Dinner’s in an hour. Let me show you where the high chairs are, sweetheart.”

As she sweeps you and the babies away, you glance back at Clark.

He’s still standing in the doorway, hand on his hip, face pink, absolutely besotted.

You’re a bit brave, blowing him a quick kiss over Eloise’s fuzzy head and watch as he shakes his head, but that smile never leaves his face.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

The stars out here are brighter than you’ve seen in years. The kind of sky that doesn’t seem real unless you’re standing in the middle of a field with your arms full of baby and the scent of pie still clinging to your clothes.

Crickets hum. The porch light casts a soft glow across the gravel. It’s quiet in that way that only happens after a full day, full bellies, full hearts, full hands.

Clark walks beside you, carrying the diaper bag and Liam, who’s half asleep against his chest with a pacifier hanging loose from his mouth. You’ve got Eloise tucked in against you, her cheek warm where it presses into your collarbone.

“She’s out cold,” you whisper, rubbing her back.

He smiles, “He is too.”

You laugh softly, shifting the subject a bit to his parents, “Do they always fuss over you like that?”

Clark glances at you, a little sheepish, “most the time. Especially when they like someone.”

You raise a brow, shifting Eloise in your arms, “Oh yeah? So they like me?”

He gives a quiet huff, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, “Pretty sure Ma’s already knitting them matching sweaters.”

You reach the car and open the door, carefully buckling Eloise into her car seat while Clark does the same with Liam. You move in quiet sync, practiced, familiar. Like you’ve always done this together.

The doors close with soft clicks.

And then it’s just the two of you under the stars, surrounded by fields and open sky and a night that feels like it’s holding its breath.

Clark rubs the back of his neck, takes a small step closer. He’s looking at you the way he does when he’s thinking too much. Like he’s caught between being brave and being careful.

“I was thinking…” he says, voice low and steady, but a little uncertain. “I mean- if you ever get a night off… Maybe we could go out? Just the two of us.”

You blink. Turn fully to face him. He’s definitely blushing.

“You’re asking me out?” you say, soft.

He smiles, wide and crooked and entirely Clark.

“I am,” he says, “A real date. No diaper bags. No kids. Just… you. And me.”

Your heart does a slow somersault.

“Clark Kent,” you murmur, “are you trying to charm me with the crickets and starlight?”

He chuckles, just a little breathless now, “Is it working?”

You step in, close enough that your hands brush, your voices shared in the hush of the night.

“I’ve been charmed since the day you fed my niece mashed banana and didn’t flinch when she sneezed it into your hair.”

He grins, wide and bright, “Is that a yes?”

You nod, eyes bright, “It’s a yes.”

And for a long second, he just looks at you, like he’s locking this moment away somewhere he’ll never forget it.

Then he leans down and presses a slow, feather light kiss to your temple. Nothing rushed. Just steady and warm.

“We’ll figure it out.”

You smile up at him, “that sounds good.”

And when you drive away under that country sky, babies asleep and your chest full, you know something has shifted.

This isn’t just help anymore. It’s something more.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

It starts with you both dropping the kids off with his Ma, save for Conner. You’d asked her three times if she was sure she was okay watching the twins.

She’d rolled her eyes every time.

“Honey, I raised Clark. Two babies are a vacation.”

Clark helps you into his truck. Paint chipped, bench seat worn in just the right way. He even opens the passenger door for you like it’s 1953 and you’re going to the spring formal.

“This is some strong Hallmark energy,” you tease, grinning as he rounds the front.

He climbs in beside you, that grin already tugging at his mouth, “What can I say? Small town, big charm.”

The first place he takes you is the local diner.

It’s one of those places that hasn’t changed since Clark was a kid, checkered floors, a jukebox in the corner, pie under glass.

Everyone knows him.

Everyone tries very hard not to stare at you, because you’re the first girl since Lois he’s brought around.

“This is like walking around with the town prom king,” you whisper across the table as the waitress pours your coffee and asks if you’re “the one with the babies.”

Clark chuckles, sliding a sugar packet between his fingers, “I wasn’t prom king.”

You roll your eyes, “Sure.”

“I peaked at seventeen,” he deadpans.

“Liar.”

He smiles into his coffee, “Okay. Maybe twenty.”

On the way back to the farm he’s hesitant to hold your hand, keeping a nervous, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“You alright?” You ask, voice gentle.

He shrugs, still looking out the windshield, “It’s been a long time since I liked someone like this.”

The world softens for a moment. You reach over and take his hand, he lets you, holding yours instead of the steering wheel.

“I’m nervous too.” You say gently, pulling a smile from him.

〰️〰️🍼👶🏻💕👶🏻🍼〰️〰️

“I used to come here with Jon when he couldn’t sleep,” Clark says, hopping down from the truck and opening your door. “Best view of the stars in town.”

He lays out a blanket in the bed of the truck like it’s something he’s done a thousand times before. You climb up beside him, the night quiet except for the crickets and the sound of your breathing slowing in sync.

You lie back.

The stars are incredible. You hadn’t realized how loud your world had been until it went still like this.

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you say softly.

Clark glances at you, “Thanks for saying yes.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The air is thick with everything that hasn’t been said.

Then he leans in.

Not rushed. Not nervous. Just sure. And he kisses you.

It’s soft. Steady. Warm in a way that sinks right down to your bones.

When he pulls back, you’re both smiling.

“You know,” you murmur, “if this was a Hallmark movie, this would be the part where we decide to start a bed-and-breakfast together or something.”

He chuckles, brushing his knuckles down your cheek, “Well… I do make a mean breakfast.”

You giggle, staring at this man that you’re starting to see a future with, one that’s shown up every time you’ve needed him even when you’ve said you don’t.

A man you can see raising all four kids together with. A man that by all accounts as far as you’re concerned is practically Superman.

Instead of quipping back, you just lean in and kiss him again.

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[xtraoddinary]

The added member

Ot8 x fem!reader fluff

Sum: When JYP suddenly decided to add a a girl to Stray Kids it comes as a surprise to all the members especially since she has a lot of advantages to the group.

An: so I really hate when the reader is perceived as “weak” and doesn’t know how to handle herself so I made her a serial hobbyist (a person with a lot of hobbies) also not proofread kinda rushed

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ♫ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

For whatever reason jyp thought it would be a great idea to add a bit of “diversity” to one of his most popular groups. This girl, jyp had been keeping an eye on. She was able to keep up with the boys in many ways. She sings really well and her dancing skills are excellent. Best in her group. The company thought to make her a solo artist. But according to them this was better? From what they can gather she’s from America and has only had 3 training years. But to their surprise she’s only a few months younger than Jeongin making her the maknae instead. Growing up you were always seen as a leader. Always helped those in need. Always sticking up for others. Hell, your parents were sure you’d become a cop or something.

Though when they found out you wanted to become an idol they weren’t the happiest but still supportive. You didn’t have any brothers growing up so this would be a big change for you. Still hopeful the gender difference wouldn’t put a barrier in the relationship between you them.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ♫ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

A few weeks later you had finally moved in, Changbin, Han, and Chan helping you move your boxes. To your surprise you got your own room and restroom for obvious reasons. While finishing up the last of your unpacking someone knocks on your door. “It’s open” you say signaling the person on the other side to come in. “Hey, I just wanted to see how you’re settling in” It’s Felix. “Still trying to manage my way around some things” you say fidgeting with your hands. “Well we’re all in the living room. Wanna join us?” He asks. “I’d love to. Hold on” you say quickly grabbing your favorite blanket and slipping on your hello kitty slippers. “Ok let’s go” the both of you walk together to the living room where the others are waiting. You decide to sit next to Han and Felix sits next to you. “Glad you could join us y/n. We just wanted to use this time for you to get to know us better.” He says with a smile “oh I’d love that” you say. They all go around and tell you about themselves and their backgrounds which was pretty comforting. You could quite literally feel the bond between all of you getting stronger.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ♫ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

And just like that you had your first interview with all of them in attendance of course. This was technically your introduction as the newest member of Stray Kids. While the makeup artist was doing your makeup you noticed that she was talking to one of the other makeup artists in Korean and giggling a lot. You knew quite a bit of Korean but not enough to tell what they were saying. But you could take a guess of what kind of things that was said between the two. But you held your young not wanting to mess up this interview. Hyunjin comes in and tells you that they’re ready. And as soon as he enters both of the makeup artists shut up. “Okay I’m done anyway” you say quickly fixing up some of the makeup yourself so you still look presentable and you walk to the filming area where everyone else is. This interview was your first one and you were already in a bad mood. Chan could tell in an instant that you weren’t yourself but it was too late to ask questions about it because they were about to start filming. “Y/n how about you sit next to Han” Chan said. He knew that Han’s presence could cheer anyone up which led him to his suggestion. So you sit next to Han and they start filming. As you’re filming, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that this interview is mostly in Korean but the boys do repeat some of the questions so you can understand. And some of questions you knew but it was still a little confusing. When it was your turn the interviewer asks you his question in Korean but you didn’t know what he said so you looked at Han and he says “He’s wondering if you can understand Korean”. You shake your head “I can only understand a little bit not a lot” Han translates it back to the interviewer. “그녀는 정말 멍청하다” (She is so stupid) the interviewer says with a chuckle under his breath clearly forgetting everyone else was there. You look at the boys for translation but they all look like they’re about to commit a felony. You’d only know them for a few weeks but you’d never seen them so angry. It was kinda scary. The first one to break the silence was Minho. But it was still in Korean, his voice was thunderous but still calm. He stared dead at the interviewer as he was talking. Hyunjin backing up on whatever he said his tone sharp as a blade. You just sat there looking like you just opened a test you didn’t study for. Seungmin was about to start talking but Han quickly covered your ears knowing what kind of stuff was going to come out of his mouth but it didn’t matter because you couldn’t understand him anyway still speaking Korean. After Han uncovered your ears the interviewer quickly apologized over and over. You told him it was okay but he kept apologizing. The interview continued the tension in the air was prominent but ignored. You were still confused. ‘What did he say that made them so mad?’ You thought to yourself. After the interview you all went back to the dorms and you wanted to know what they said that you couldn’t understand. So you the only way was to ask someone you trust. You knock on the door and on the other side you hear ‘come in’ so you enter and you see Seungmin on his bed on his phone and Jeongin was reading a book at a desk. “Hey Jeongin. Do you want to do my skincare routine with me” you say knowing it would quickly get his attention. You both had flawless skin and when he heard you ask him to do skincare together he slammed his book down and shot up looking ecstatic. So you drag him to your restroom which is kinda spacious with a large countertop. You allow him to sit on the counter while you get your supplies.

“Jeongin, I need to ask you something” you say not making eye contact still taking out your supplies. “Shoot” he says. “What did Minho, Hyunjin, and Seungmin say to the interviewer today?” You ask now wiping off my makeup with makeup remover handing him one. He hesitates not wanting you to hate them. “Uhm I can’t tell you” he says wiping off his makeup as well. “Why? Was it bad? Was it about me? What did the interviewer say that made them so upset?” You asked him starting to wash your face. He hesitates still haven’t started wiping off his makeup. Subconsciously you grab his jaw and his wipe and start wiping it off for him. Your moves delicate and careful. Back at home you and your sister used to do your skincare together so this was like muscle memory to you. As you finished up wiping his face you quickly realized what you were doing. You look up at him, his eyes were wide. You knew how much he didn’t like people touching him so you quickly let go of his face. The quick move startled him snapping him back into reality. You quickly started to apologize but he interrupted you. “It’s fine.. I don’t mind” he said softly. You both just sit there for a moment staring at each other. Then you clear your throat and try to go back to the topic at hand. “Can you please tell me what happened today, at the interview” you look at him with pleading eyes. He avoids your eyes, not wanting to show vulnerability. “We don’t want you to hate us. We’re sorry about what happened at the interview. But I can’t tell you. Sorry.” He says softly. You didn’t want to push on the subject so of course you didn’t ask again. “Here wash your face and I’ll show you how to make my face mask.” You say moving so he can have the sink. Then you gasp making him flinch. “Omg! We should do rice masks!” You say ecstatically. “Uhm… ok sure” he says. And with that you left the restroom to make some rice.

So now your rice paste is in a bowl ready to be put on. “I’m gonna put on your mask for you. Okay?” You say already picking up some of the paste with your hands. He sits on the kitchen counter simply waiting for you to put on his mask. As you’re applying the paste to his face Changbin enters the kitchen. “What is happening here” he asks genuinely confused. “Rice masks. Want one?” You ask jokingly. “Sure” he sends a quick text message and sits next to Jeongin on the counter. You stand there dumbfounded not really thinking he’d actually say yes. “Oh! Okay I’ll finish Jeongin’s then I’ll do yours”. Then while finishing up Jeongin’s face mask, Felix and Seungmin enter. “Where’s the food?” Seungmin asks looking around the kitchen. “What food?” You ask. “Changbin texted the group chat and said that he ordered food and that it’s in the kitchen” Felix says looking a bit confused. Seungmin, Felix, Jeongin and you all look at Changbin. “I may or may not have said that so they can do face masks with us” he says looking at you with a mischievous expression. And with that Seungmin tries to walk out the kitchen but Felix grabs the back of his shirt stoping him before he could get far. Then Minho walks in. “What is on their face” at this point you had started doing Changbin’s mask. “Rice masks” you all say in unison. He looks at you confused. “There’s no food” Seungmin says disappointment was written across his face. “Min can you make some more rice please” you ask putting some cucumber slices on Changbin’s face. In a matter of minutes everyone in the dorm had a rice mask. “You guys we look amazing” Changbin says giggling like a high school girl. “Let’s take a selfie!” You say holding your phone out for Hyunjin to take the selfie of all of you together. In this moment you knew that being an idol with them was the best decision you’ve ever made.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ♫ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

[lostrologyy]

feral for himbo!james and reader who are supposed to be studying but end up fucking in the back of the library

fucking himbo!james at the library*. ⋆

cw: smut. oral (fem!receiving). piv. unprotected sex. public sex. cursing. creampie. begging?. degradation if you squint. clothed sex. lmk if i missed something!

a/n: thanks for requesting, lovely<3 hope you enjoy and remember english isn't my first language!

you should’ve known he wasn’t going to study the second he sat down with that look on his face. honestly, it was obvious. his brows were pinched together with that face he uses when he doesn't get his way, his sweater sleeves pushed up his forearms like he wanted to kill you without touching you.

james has exactly two things in his brain at any given time: you, and your tits. the open textbook in front of him might as well be written in parseltongue.

“I can’t focus,” he whines, slumping dramatically in his seat. “your tits keep moving when you breathe and you smell so good and—fuck, baby, this is torture.”

you don’t even look up from your notes. “that’s the point of the library, james. to study and suffer. quietly.”

“I’d suffer a lot better if you sat on my face.”

you almost drop your quill.

“james.”

“what?” he says, blinking at you like a puppy who’s never done anything wrong in his life. “I’m being serious. we’ve been here for almost an hour. you haven’t let me touch you once.”

“that’s because we’re here to study.”

“I am studying,” he says, standing and grabbing your hand. “studying you.”

he drags you into the back row, one of those dead aisles that hasn’t been reorganized in ages, and cages you against the dusty shelves.

“you’ve been bouncing your leg for ten minutes,” he breathes, nose brushing your cheek. “drives me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“james, someone could see-”

“then be quiet,” he says, already sinking to his knees. “or shut me up.”

and then he's there, lips pressed to your inner thigh, hands pushing your skirt up around your hips, mouthing at your cunt through your underwear like he needs it.

one slow lick, hot and wide and messy, and your knees nearly give out.

“oh my god,” you whisper, biting your knuckle. “jamie-”

"not james anymore, huh?" he smirks.

you tug his hair, making him groan before his mouth goes back between your legs.

“been dreamin’ about this all day,” he mumbles against you. “wanna make you cum right here. right fuckin’ now. let me, baby. please, please.”

his tongue finds your clit, swirling slow at first, teasing you. then faster and firmer, sucking until your hips are jerking forward and you're grabbing the shelf behind you to stay upright. his arms wrap tight around your thighs, anchoring you to his face. you feel him moan when you grind down on him, shameless and slick and desperate.

and then he groans, muffled by your cunt. “come for me. come in my fuckin’ mouth.”

the orgasm hits you in a dizzying, trembling rush, your legs start shaking, your whole body curling in as you try not to cry out. and he just keeps going, tongue soft now, licking you through it, practically whining with how good you taste.

you slump back against the shelf, completely ruined.

“turn around,” he says, getting on his feet and yanking the zipper of his pants down.

you barely have time to grab the bookshelf before he’s pushing into you from behind, his thick, pulsing cock stretching you open with one deep, filthy thrust.

“fuck, yes,” he groans, hands gripping your waist. “so fuckin’ tight, baby. still so wet from my mouth. you like being my little library slut?”

you whimper, grinding your hips back into him. “yes. yes, jamie, please.”

he ruts into you like he can’t help it. like something in his brain short-circuits the second he’s inside you. it’s frantic, dirty, loud. the sound of skin slapping, shelves rattling, his hand clamping over your mouth when your moans get too high-pitched.

“wanna ruin you,” he pants in your ear. “wanna fill you up, make you drip all over these books. fuck you so hard you can’t walk back to class.”

you can’t speak. you’re shaking, coming again without warning—this time around his cock, spasming around him as he keeps thrusting, frantic and desperate.

“shit—fuck, I’m close, come with me, baby, wanna feel you come on my cock, please.”

and you both fall apart together.

you cry out into your palm. james groans against your shoulder, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, cock twitching as you pulse around him. he ruts into you through it, milking every last drop, every last wave.

then you collapse, bent over the shelf, dripping and breathless, your legs barely holding you up.

he leans forward, pressing kisses down your neck, still buried inside you.

“best study session of my life,” he mumbles.

you wheeze. “we didn’t study.”

he smirks, kissing your temple. “nah. but I still learned something.”

"what?”

he pulls out slow, admiring the mess. “that your cunt is way better than anything in that textbook.”

lostrologyy © 2025.

[nekoboydreams]

Hello again, Neko! I'm not sure if you've seen any of my previous asks before- I think I've done about three maybe four...? But that was quite some time ago. I'm a little torn between trying to continue with my asks, or just wait until someone else eventually asks the same question I asked and you happen to answer them- 😅 I have A LOT of questions, but for now, I stick with the three that I have while writing this. (I also have questions on each of my posts!)

I'm curious... (This is something that will be mentioned in my latest fanfic as well!-) What stops Pierrot from just.. Killing Harlequin? I mean- It seems that Pierrot hates him that much, moreso now that Harlequin is attempting to take away his beloved again... Is it morality? The fact that he's aware of whatever pain Harlequin might feel bc of their shared past? Or maybe (in my opinion), bc they're like brothers?

Can they sense spirits (More specifically Pierrot)? Like, can any of them sense when a spirit is near? (This would play a HUGE role for one of the A.Us I created! If they can't, I might just have to scrap the idea :( ...)

Something a bit random- How would Pierrot react towards a dominant female? My version of MC, (due to her past) she refused to be anyone's bitch. Don't get me wrong, she's still a sweetheart, but in certain situations, that could change. Her trauma won't let her get dominated- (Just thought of this while writing this down- Is MC in the game a virgin, or no? My version of the MC lost her virginity already 😔)

Little comment: You know, I'm honestly surprised that no one sees the circus crew like brothers. I've only ever seen comments comparing Pierrot and Harlequin's relationship to that of a divorced a couple, and things like that. I haven't seen one person compare their relationship to a brotherly type relationship. (I think I might be the only one who sees them that way- :') ...)

I also wanted to say this, I honestly love your game (and Pierrot) with ALL my heart! It's been my hyperfixation for a month now! I'm just as obsessed with Pierrot as he is with (me) :)))) I would literally give him my heart and SOUL if I could- That being said, could you give him a big kiss for me? I'd really appreciate it! :) (Oh! And... Hug The Fifth One for me? I honestly can't wait to meet him. I feel like him and my version of MC would be besties <3)

(Also... HEARTS OF MOTIVATION!!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜 You get six bc 1, I have enough to go around, and 2, you deserve/need them! :] ...)

Hi! I’ll be answering things as I can unless the question has already been answered before!

Why doesn’t he just kill Harlequin? Let’s just say… he can’t, even if he wanted to. And the truth is he doesn’t. I’ve mentioned before that the circus cast shares a deep bond, and none of them would let one of their own die so easily. Jester is also always around, making sure things don’t spiral out of control.

No, unfortunately they don’t have any sort of spiritual sensitivity.

Pierrot has said he’d be willing to shape himself however MC desires so I don’t see why he wouldn’t accept it!

Thank you for the kind words! But maybe don’t go offering your soul to monsters so casually… just to be safe, haha.

[chocolatierrai]

COMERTE ︶︶ CHAPTER FOUR

after taking a gap year, y/n l/n got into the most expensive performing arts university: dream academy. thank god she got a scholarship! but even though saying goodbye to her friends in a small town in minnesota is emotional, she's hyped to continue her journey as an aspiring dancer! however, her first day at DA and she already made some friends... and a foe that certainly has an expensive musky perfume and cat eyes.

wc: 1.4k+

THE HUNT BEGINS

the moment the clock hit ten, everyone ran into the dance studio, shoving a few people to the sidelines while doing so. you simply went in, your eyes examined the room carefully.

cold, white lights on the ceiling. mirrors on every wall, so if you make a mistake, there's no hiding. the polished wooden flooring made your sneakers squeak. bags were already thrown on the benches, some even on the floor. you just neatly placed your black duffel somewhere in the corner of the room.

everyone was already mindlessly stretching, even though the teacher hasn't even come here yet. seeing the tension, you quickly start moving your shoulders and do some isolation exercises, but as you do, you calmly scan over the new faces.

a girl with long, strikingly blonde hair? pop off.

another girl with a bob, but not really? okay!

one other girl with pink strands in the front? damn!

another...

okay.

you basically only counted like 3 men in a 20 person class.

not that you're complaining, though. or actually, maybe you are. because there can be a moment where you wont be focusing on the dance, and instead on someones fluid hip movement.

(sorry, too lesbian?)

but then, the doors just slammed open, and someone with an insane amount of aura confidently striding in.

ginger curls. an unkempt moustache. stubble. and actual style.

then, your jaw momentarily drops.

fucking sohey sugihara. in your vicinity.

now, sohey is definitely a known name in the dance industry, because, well, he's literally everywhere. britney spears? performed with her. madonna? oh yeah, sure! nicki minaj? he probably plays bingo with her every wednesday.

and now, he's here, teaching others on how to dance?

jesus, you might just faint, because you didn't expect one of the most influential people to be a teacher.

"hey hey hey!" he yelled out in his usual high-pitched tone, and soon enough, waves of cheers erupted just from his presence. you didn't say anything just yet, since you have to overcome all of the shock, but you just flash him a bright grin.

you're hyped. hella hyped.

──── ୨୧ ────

class has basically started 15 minutes ago, and since you and your colleagues were already done warming up, sohey was already starting to show some moves for a demo choreo. your eyes glint mischievously, making sure to add your own style to the choreography.

and it seemed like he noticed.

"ouh, i feel something new over there," he snarked, before turning his attention towards you. sohey scans over your body from head to toe before a grin plastered on his face. "what's your name?"

"y/n," you casually answered, and he just gave you an understanding nod, before snapping his head to another individual.

"you're new, too, yeah? i don't think i've seen your face."

you then eyed the person that sohey also didn't know.

it was one of the 3 men. he had cool, red hair (which, you didn't admit, but you were jealous at how healthy his hair looked, even when its dyed), and small eyes that looked like it belonged to a toddler.

"uh, soul," he meekly replied, and the japanese accent just got out of there.

"oh, great! i love new people joining in," sohey hummed before turning back towards the mirror. yet as he goes on to explain another move, you and soul gaze at each other for a moment longer, and he just... smiles. politely. before moving back to focus on the choreography.

a few more minutes pass, and you've already got a combo down. even when you were younger, you've always had great memory, just not for academics. you could remember some vivid dance from middle school and still perform it now, but if someone were to ask you to list out all of the us presidents, you would probably fail.

"okay, so now, you have to raise your left leg," sohey spoke once more, raising his own left leg to actually give you an example. "and do a kick. c'mon, say it with me. kick!"

"kick!" you all shouted in unison, kicking your left leg.

and that's how you summoned her.

as if on cue, the door slams open, and someone struts in like they own the studio.

and the room goes cold. like, actually cold. all of a sudden, you wondered if the heating broke that very moment.

the first thing you noticed was her haughty demeanour. her hips naturally swayed in a way that could garner attention. her steps look rehearsed, but also fucking effortless.

only then did you take in her appearance. dark hair tied in a high bun, but there were a few loose curls here and there. her eyeliner was popping, and her lips looked plump as hell. she was wearing a black long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants. serving depressed cunt, maybe?

but even though her presence might just be more powerful than sohey's, you couldn't understand why. you don't know this person, so why was it so quiet when she came in?

"look who decided to grace us with her presence," sohey's tone was still lighthearted, but now there's this sharpness in his voice that you couldn't seem to ignore. "late, daniela. on the first day of classes, too."

but daniela didn't seem like she gave a damn, because all she did was set down her duffel bag with rhinestone gems all over it and walk to the front row, effectively shoving some girl's shoulder without remorse.

and there she stood. center stage.

sohey just sighed loudly, before continuing his lesson while trying to ignore the fact that his blood pressure was rising.

──── ୨୧ ────

"avanzini kept staring at you."

"what?" you snapped your neck to turn to the girl who had strikingly blonde hair. oh, you remember seeing her face. but now that someone is willingly talking to you right after class has gotten you confused. plus, she was whispering, of all things.

"daniela," she continued. "when you had to change rows and you were at the front and she was at the back, she kept staring at you."

"did she?" you murmured. "i didn't even notice."

"of course you didn't. no one does. and that's the biggest mistake you could have ever made," the blonde deadpanned.

"i'm— what?"

"don't say i didn't warn you."

and then she took her leave, and you just stood there in confusion. what did that girl mean? you didn't notice daniela staring at you? usually, you'd feel flattered, but now that some random person had to warn you? weird.

most of the people have already left the studio, and it was just you and sohey. you just gave him a look, grabbed your duffel and went out the door. you just sighed. deeply. then, you went on your phone, checking for your next class. 2 pm. you had an hour to spare. great, that's enough for a nice, warm shower and—

"you have good hip control."

you froze in your tracks.

daniela stood, leaning against the wall like some sort of movie protagonist. she was right next to the door where the emergency stairwell was, her arms folded above her chest.

"sorry?" was all you could utter out.

"your lines are clean. you know when to be rock solid, and you know when to be fluid. you don't have a problem with footwork. you don't over exaggerate your facial expressions, but you don't look like a robot either," daniela remarked, her cat eyes narrowed in on you, like you were some sort of prey or shit.

for a moment, you don't know how to react. because while it looks like she's complimenting you, her tone of voice doesn't exactly reflect that. it's more like that she was... analysing you. like you were some sort of answer to an experiment she was doing.

knowing that you probably won't answer her anytime soon, daniela continued:

"with that attitude, you can easily be in the top ten ranks. top five, maybe," she now lifts herself from the wall, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "maybe even get to number one."

then, a pause.

"but i think it's pretty obvious whose number one here, isn't it?"

you just blinked. then, a squint. what the fuck? is she trying to provoke you?

noticing your reaction, she chuckled. but definitely not cutely. no, it was as cold as the broken heating in the studio.

"you're new. you don't know me. and that's fine. it can stay like that."

another step. her voice drops to a whisper.

"all that you need to know that i'm number one in dance. and the closest you can get is being in the top 2."

and then, she struts off the same way she strutted into the studio a few hours ago.

and all you could do is just stay there.

you're not mad, really. well, kinda.

you're just wondering what bone she has to pick with you. because this is basically your first interaction.

END

masterlist ︶︶ next

a/n: hey... sorry for how late the update lowkey is... i only got the idea when i was in court...

TAGLIST: @98oceans , @iluvyuandme , @cceanvvaves , @kianthegirlkisser , @marvelwomen-simp , @sewiouslyz , @gigi4evr, @avanzinii , @runm3over , @seobluuu , @yeetaberry127 , @hydrardz , @gablmk , @wwwlpgs , @werewolfblde , @redroomgraduate , @andromedawillburyyou , @itzkatflixs , @urwavvy (19/30)

[sirenontheloose]

Please Don't Clip This (special 2)

a/n - this has been sitting in my drafts for so long sooo… here it is

"Hi guys, wow you guys are fast," Lara said, adjusting her phone with one hand while the other fiddled with the drawstring of her hoodie. She squinted at the screen, tilting it slightly. "Wait, let me fix this angle… Okay. Lighting’s not giving today, but whatever, we're here."

She settled onto a couch, legs crossed, a pair of oversized headphones hanging around her neck. The background revealed a cozy studio corner with dim lighting, a candle flickering on the desk, and someone’s half-eaten mochi ice cream abandoned on the table. "Okay, I’ve seen some of you asking me to go live, to have a little studio session and here we are. I finally convinced everyone to let me sneak you guys in for like... twenty minutes max. So if I disappear suddenly, I’ve either been kicked out or bribed with snacks."

She grinned, already reading the comments flying in. "No, I'm not sick, I just sound tired. It’s probably the AC. Why is every studio in this country set to arctic mode? Like,  I’m trying to sing, not freeze to death."

A few seconds passed as she scrolled. "TMI? Uh… I accidentally brushed my teeth with hand cream yesterday. Yeah. Don’t ask how. It looked like toothpaste. It was 3AM." She laughed softly.

Lara leaned forward to tap her laptop. "Okay, let’s see what we’ve got today. I was working on a few things, demos, scratches, idea dumps... If it sounds messy, it’s because it is, well welcome to my brain."

She clicked something on the screen.

A beat dropped. Smooth. Velvet. Slow.

Then came a voice, soft, rich, and intimate, singing a few lines in perfect English. Every syllable wrapped in warmth. Deeply familiar to anyone who'd heard Y/N sing before.

“Touch me like you mean it girl, don’t just say it in your head If I lean in closer..."

Lara froze.

Just for a second.

Then her eyes widened. "Wait, oh my god, wrong file." She scrambled toward the screen. "That is NOT the right one. Please pretend you didn’t hear that. Please. Please." She let out an embarrassed groan, dragging a hand down her face. "I swear this is what happens when I name files like 'final_final_actually_final,' but it's never final."

The live chat exploded.

"WAS THAT Y/N?!" "you’re telling me you have Y/N singing demos for you??" "girl. GIRL." "the way she said 'pretend you didn’t hear that' like it didn’t just change my life"

Lara pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. "You're all so unserious and no, I’m not saying anything, not a single thing. Let’s move on. Here’s a different demo. One that’s actually mine."

She clicked play again, but her ears were tinged red, her smirk gave too much away, and the damage had already been done.

masterlist

divider - @v6que

[vidduality]

Sandman Season 2 Fix-it Prompts

(Morpheus Edition)

If you're like me and found the Sandman s2 ending a little too bleak or unsatisfying, or if you liked it but want to explore some what-ifs/what-nexts, here are some Sandman Fix-it prompts/ideas for any fic writers who want to tackle them!

***Please feel free to use any prompts that inspire, share as desired, etc (no credit necessary). I just need more fix-its. S2 dumped so much trauma on Morpheus & no time to process it***

Fix-it Prompts:

*Daniel revives Morpheus: Fiddler's Green said it was possible, and everyone else Daniel revived in the Dreaming was happy to be restored (who knows why FG thought he had a right to take that choice from Morpheus in the show). If the power of the Endless stays with Daniel now that it's been formally transferred, maybe Morpheus can have a chance to find a new purpose and leave his island like he always wanted.

*Morpheus survives: What other fates were in Destiny's garden when he was duplicating and giving different advice/prophesizing different outcomes?

*Afterlife shenanigans (fix-it edition): Where does Morpheus go once he takes Death's hand? We've seen characters die and become part of the dreaming, go to earth as a human, etc. And characters in this story wander in and out of afterlife realms all the time. What afterlife is befitting a Dream?

*Hob's dream from the comics: Why was Destruction is in the dream with Morpheus that Hob had at the end of the story in the comics (did he go fetch his brother, since he's unbound and roaming free?)? Assuming the dream is real, how did Morpheus get to be there on that beach?

And some unresolved revelations/traumas that we needed so much more time to unpack:

*Those parents: 😬. I really need someone(s) to unpack this and let Morpheus work through some of the horrific things they said to their child, who came to them for help to save his own life.

*Morpheus is still only a year or two out of his 106 year stint in captivity! Please get him some therapy or some comfort from his friends, stat! Give him a chance to actually process this.

*The Endless sibling relationships. Delirium's "I think he was scared all the time" speech was so real. Love all his siblings' insights. How would they respond to him being around or brought back post s2?

*"Not... my Dream" "Are you sure you can't stay?" Oh, Hob. The pining in his voice! The show really made me a Dreamling believer.

*Orpheus: Despair coaching the universe's most repressed man through the process of grieving his son with the idea that he would despair for a time and then swim back up for air when he was ready was actually quite sweet. How does one move on from the loss of a child.

*Lucienne: "As you have done... for me." 🥹 More of this lovely, patient, long-suffering bond!

*Matthew was totally ready to ride AND die with his friend. More of this bond as well!

*Daniel: How would they get along if Daniel remains the one with the power of the Endless (or if it's Morpheus?)? How do you relate to someone who has some of your memories and knows all of the things you'd never willingly share?

---

If you want to drop recs that have already covered any of these topics here, oh, please do as well! Or add your own prompts. ❤️

[a13x-128]

New champion of the world:

Smau - Home and friends!

A/n: this is the inbetween on the prologue and chapter one!! so 0.5?? 😭

also pretty sure that y/n is gonna be racing for redbull...but that poll isn't done yet so we will see!!

anyways yeah!! this was super fun to do and also shows a little bit of who Y/n is friends with and part of her personal life.

youruser posted:

youruser home!! and still being forced to drive, bff 😒

bff, Allia and 45k others liked

view all comments

user8 is that a guitar i see 👀

user1 GIRL SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE A GUITARRR

-> bff you got a LOT to catch up on

user2 SO excited to see you racing again this season

user4 where's the cat tho 😔

-> youruser Syn unfortunately enough is in monaco with a friend ☹️

——> user9 should've brought him with you 😔

Allia bring me racing next time ☹️🙏

-> youruser OKAYYY

bff just posted:

bff SOMEONES IN MY HOUSE. (and my dog likes her more 😔)

tagged youruser

youruser and 14k others liked

youruser IM JUST BETTER LIKE THAT?? (thanks for your dog btw)

user1 OMGGG what's his name.

-> youruser bean

——> bff DONT ASK I WAS FIVE 😭

user4 WYD CLIMBING IN THE WINDOWWW

-> youruser why not...?

user8 BEAN AND SYN NEED TO MEET!!!

-> bff CONSIDER IT DONE 🫡

youruser posted:

youruser i've been busy this week...bff and friend1 convinced me to make a cover of something...😌

tagged friend1 and bff

bff, friend1, Allia and 57k others liked

view all comments

user1 GIRLLLLL stop hiding stuff from us

user8 HAVE I MISSED SOMETHING??

-> friend1 yes?

Allia why am i always left out ☹️

-> youruser YOU SAID YOU WERE BUSY??

——> Allia ...excuses

user4 A SONG? girl be feeding us 🙏

youruser posted:

youruser since SOMEONE needed to be included (i have two days left and im leaving again ☹️)

tagged Allia

liked by bff, Allia and 65k others

view all comments

Allia IT WAS FUN THOOOO

-> youruser yeah...guess so

——> Allia ASSHOLE

———>youruser love you two 😘

user1 AWWH i wanna go to a wreck room with you two 😭

user4 I DONT THINK I CAN HANDLE YOU LEAVINGGG 😭

-> Allia its okay im at the first grand prix with her so chaos continues 🫶

——> user4 NEVEREVER stop going 😔🙏

youruser posted

youruser i found someone?? oh and Syn is back!!! (with his very own helmet)

tagged lando

lando, Allia, bff and 69k others liked

lando was that seriously necessary??

-> youruser everyone needs to know that your sleeping habits haven't changed 😚

——> lando NO THEY DONT???

———> Oscarpiastri it's okay Y/n, we already know

————> lando OSCAR

Allia SO excited to see my big sister race <3

-> youruser honestly wouldn't want anyone else watching me 🫶

bff IM THERE IN SPRIT

user1 AHHHH Y/N BACK ON THE GRID

user5 OMG SYN IN A HELMETTT

user4 how about we get syn racing??

-> youruser YESSS syn 2026??

——> f1 if you can teach the cat to drive 🤷‍♀️

———> youruser I CAN CERTAINLY TRY?

lando posted:

lando and im bad for falling asleep?

tagged youruser

youruser, bff and 65k others liked

view all comments

Oscarpiastri why are you two allowed to be around each other??

-> Charlesleclerc they aren't

——> Maxverstappen they should be separated

———> Georgerussel someone HAS to keep an eye on them

————> Carlossainz at least it's entertaining??

youruser I WASNT ASLEEP IT WAS FOR THE PHOTO.

-> youruser idiot

——> lando uh huh sure

user1 love how she stopped to pet the cat 😭

user3 whys he friends with her??

-> user4 genuinely thought we got rid of you ☹️

——> user5 STOP FOLLOWING US AND HER???

———> user8 user3 shows up and EVERYONE knows they're ruining the party

————> bff i like you guys 😭

—————> youruser genuinely didn't know user3 existed until now 🤷‍♀️

user2 honestly? I'd sleep there as well

user10 im new WHAT IS THIS??

-> user1 girl catch up 🙏

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @chiqita @sulphuricgrin @umbracirrus @sanzas-reverie @dirty-bosmer for the tags! All your wips were lovely!

No pressure but taggging: @hircines-hunter @pocket-vvardvark @silly-little-diary @theoneandonlysemla @firefly-factory @sunsettemplar @captain-of-silvenar @ladytanithia @labskeever @heavy-metal-dick @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @lady-iizsil

Last week I really said I was gonna have this whole arm done for this week, guess what did not happen :P But progress is progress <3 Since I'm still in the beginning, I put him in a smaller frame so I could work more easily.

I did however make a lot of progress on a fic and I'm hoping to get it done soon so have some of my new girl Cordelia because someone's gotta serve Daddy issues <3 Here she is with Dwemer nerd Neramo from ESO becuase he needs love <3 Under the cut for length:

“Cordelia,” he begins. Searching for a way to tell her gently as among all the wonderful things he thinks of her: bright, clever, capable, that she is also too young. It would not be right, her acting as his assistant, him intending to keep her in the position undergoing an exhibition merely the two of them. That even with her mixed-heritage shortening her life span in comparison, he will die before her. She should not waste her precious life on an old mer, not someone who decided well before she was born that he was married to his work. “You are very lovely.” Now meeting his eyes, he hesitates before continuing, it was unfair to tell those deep brown eyes no. It’s for her own good. She will have no trouble finding another. Whether or not he would struggle upon learning she was with someone else, remains unclear. “But I do not think this is a good idea.” When the tears begin to well in her eyes, he has already removed his hand, but the sight of her like this has him tempted to return it. At least to provide her comfort, not doing so out of fear it would make it harder. 

“But why not? You said I was lovely!” Though the cathedral is mostly empty on the Tirdus afternoon, her voice raised at such a pitch that the few around turn to look at them. Oh no.

“And you are! And if I was a century younger-” 

“Is that what you're worried about?” Of course it was, she is far from simple-minded, how is that not the most obvious detail? “Because I do not care.” 

There were many problems Neramo expected to deal with in later middle age, aching joints, difficulty sleeping, the fact his eyesight was not as good as it used to be. However, he never expected a young woman throwing herself at him to be among them. Yet, Cordelia’s words are having an effect on him, it was taking great strength to do what was right. Especially when he was the only one who thought it was, this much is further proven with what she says next. 

“It’s preferable, actually.” A greater blush on her face but she doesn’t duck away at these words, ones that only confuse him further.

“Preferable?” 

“Well, mer my age think they know everything but they don’t even know how to treat a lady.” The singsong sound of her giggling is heard. “And the men, the men… if you do not have anything nice to say then…”  Notably she is silent. 

“Are you equating age with experience?” How terrible it would be for her to reject him instead, finding out that it has been so long that he may have just as much knowledge left as those young mer did. 

“I know you’re not stupid, I know that very well.” Now, the young woman batted her eyes at him. An action which is almost unnecessary, as Neramo can feel himself taking her side. The counterarguments he continues to offer more to verify that this is indeed what she wants.

 “I’ll have you know it has been a long time since I have been involved with someone.” Their hands remain clasped and she moves, closing the gap between their bodies as such that their legs are touching, layers of robes between them yet the touch still ignites him. A fire fed inside him, one he didn’t know still hungered, lying dormant due to neglect. Had he considered the possibility that she also harboured some… affection for him, it might not be sending him spinning as much as it is. But he was a scholar, he was not trained to think of such impossibilities. Thus, he is proven wrong. 

“You’ve still got it.” He gains flush to match hers. 

“Ah, but I never really had it.”

[lari-the-dragon]

...A friendly call.

...

???: Shooting Star? Are you there?...It's been a while since I last saw you...Are you okay?

...?: ...Yea I'm fine- don't worry about it.

???: You...Want to talk about what happened on the Tour?

...?: Uhhh- Sorry buddy...I'm- doing some important things right now, maybe later...?

???: You're really making a lot of excuses for this one, huh? Very well, but remember, you WILL give me an answer about it, whether you want to or not...You owe me this.

...?: Sigh- ok bud.

???: I'll give you some more time for you to get ready, alrighty? In the meantime, I suppose I have to do what I should have done a LOOONG time ago.

...?: My apologies for being responsible for that...If you want, we can alwa-

???: Ah, please, Shooting Star! Yes, I know I'd love to make my spectacular intro alongside my dear friend! However, if you stay in this state throughout the process, I'd rather...Wait until you are better.

...?: ...thank you, Puzzles.

Mr.Crystal: Oh!~ What would you do without a understanding friend like me!~ But seriously though, after this, you better watch out that little place of yours...Because I'm coming in.

...?: Damn, not even gonna ask for permission to come in?

Mr.Crystal: Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾, you're already lucky that I simply didn’t yanked you out of there by now. Besides, as your friend, this whole "ask for permission" thing is completely annulled!

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Okay okay! heheh- fair enough! At least don't sneak out on me like the last time! For someone so tall you are surprisingly sneaky.

Mr.Crystal: What? Are you envious of my soft walk?~

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Pfff- as if! I can easy be sneakier than ya!

Mr.Crystal: And yet I can still notice you~ what a professional sneaky fella we have here folks!

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Oh shut up Puzzles.

Mr.Crystal: HAHAHAHAH! Maybe you just can't surprise me anymore little Star!

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: When I'm done, you are regretting those words.

Mr.Crystal: Can't wait for it friend. Now, it is time for I to take my leave. I don’t want to keep people waiting for much longer.

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Kay bud, good luck out there! And take care!-

Mr.Cystal: Thank you!...And you too.

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Oh! And before I forget! Can you tell them some things? Since I'm not joining-

Mr.Crystal: Hm? What kind of things?

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: I'm gonna send you a list over, it's better than saying everything and maybe forgetting some things in the process-

Mr.Crystal: Tch- you really have all ways to avoid leaving that cave of yours, don't you?

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: Hey! I'll let you know, that this "Cave" is my sanctuary.

Mr.Crystal: I hope this "Sanctuary" at least has a shower, considering you barrely leave it-

Ļ̶͉̖̦̜̘̈̆̌̊́͝ą̵̱͎̯̳̊r̶̙̒͒̌́́͆i̸̜͕̜͕̋̔?̴̡̛͓̺͚͓̹̫́̊̄̏̈̾: NOW EXCUSE YOU!?!?

Mr.Crystal: Aaaand that’s my cue! See you soon!~

...

Mr.Crystal: ...Real soon.

...

<Yep, I'm trying to regain back my motivation to draw again AND I'M WORKING ON IT! CALM DOWN- DON'T KILL ME!!!Also, this is going to be relevant for the undestanding of part of his Introduction and the Aftermatch...Why? You will have to wait to see :]>

[livedtough]

Back in the day, when he was a kid, Hawk had had a taste for pulp. Nothing terribly wild, and he usually drifted around to the more classic stuff, your Tom Sawyer, the kind of stuff an upstanding father would allow his kid to get his hands on, but now and then, in school, with the change in his pocket, they'd trade pulps. They'd also trade in the more lurid, stolen from fathers' drawers and even, on occasion, from the corner store itself. Naturally, the former had always interested Hawk more than the latter, but he'd paid enough attention to it that he was able to fly under the radar of boys who would already crucify him at such a young age. No, the rumors came later. But even now, in the real world, somewhere inside of him is that boy, the one that craved a little risk. That's what this conversation is, after all. A little measured risk, a game played where he is, of course, in complete control. Which isn't to say that a little more doesn't thrill him now and then, but it's measured. Everything is measured.

Which doesn't mean he doesn't wish he could let go now and then. Wouldn't it be nice to let go? To not have to worry so much? No, not worry, because Hawkins Fuller does not worry, but to have to act so goddamn much. He wants to be free, truly free, and he's tired of walking on eggshells around everyone all the time. They'd had him sharpen his teeth, and then they never let him use them in any way that isn't the underhanded manipulation of Washington. And don't get him wrong, he likes that, likes gathering information to file away, to use when it became fit, but just once he'd like to be allowed to really let loose. And don't even get him started on the things its done to his personal life.

Really. Don't.

Ah, well, that's fine. Maybe it's best left a fantasy. No need to do anything he can't come back from, even if the idea of letting his life go up in smoke does sound like fun sometimes

"Then let's just call it a necessity. It's dog eat dog out here, and I'd rather eat than be eaten." There's a hint of an edge in his voice, a vague threat, should the man continue down the path of judgement. Oh, not outright judgement, no, but he feels that it's there. Maybe it's a leftover from his time on the side of the morally righteous, because he doesn't really think he's judging him. It feels almost reflexive. Or maybe, for once in his life, he's giving someone the benefit of the doubt. "No, you don't, not unless you've got a thing for architecture, but it's better than a brick wall." Even if his window does look across the way into another office. It's the principal of the thing, he supposes.

"Exactly. You know how many of these guys have trouble waiting for them? Now, I'm not saying I'm a paragon of virtue, even if I was a Scout, back in the day, but I'm not an idiot, either." There's something there, he knows, some experience that he goes on to hint at further. He finds himself filing that away out of habit, though he has no intention of using it. He doesn't trust anyone but himself, but he recognizes himself in this man, and what does that mean, then? All that aside, the way he admits it suggests there's no secret, which means it's worthless. He almost laughs at the question, not out of any irony, but only because it strikes him as funny, given the topic. The addition of 'ex-wife' does actually earn a small chuckle. It's a valid question. "No to both, though depending on who you ask, I hear I'm practically engaged. Funny. You think I'd be aware of that. I've been led to believe the groom-to-be's awareness of the whole thing's an important factor."

This foray, however incidental, into a different world is rather what Abe suspects others get out of science fiction, or pulps. (He's not above such things, precisely; he just has the perfect combined excuse of no interest and too much to do instead.) Spurring ideas, examining them under a microscope. For Abe this is— no, to be most accurate, can be— a satisfying appetizer and main course to a more physical dessert. It certainly doesn't end in cherry pie with Lilian these days, but they do still love a debate. Rarer and rarer now they're a country apart, so he'll take what he can get with a stranger.

He misses the law too. Funny thing to say when five days a week he does nothing but think about the law, talk about law, listen to green, still hopeful interpretations of law. But it's not the same as actually entering the fray, risking the gauntlet of fire, getting your hands a little dirty. He can't help feeling he's traded his soul for safety. Which would be alright if Abe didn't think about his soul nearly as often as he does.

He's not spiritual per se; still dutifully attends shul on the important days and a few random ones. Morning prayers and blessings before food are more rote ritual now, meaningful as part of routine and not so much for their own sake. Though once in a while he's up early and dawn light hits just right and the poetry clicks into place. Besides that, he's just glad he can stand to look in the mirror.

When Hawk agrees, he nods languidly. "A necessary... 'evil' sounds so reductionist but that is the phrase. Idioms, not known for their subtlety." His own humor inspires hints of a smile, just stopping off at self-congratulatory. "Don't get much of a view in the city," he responds, "but this isn't New York or Seattle." He supposes he's interpreting "view" as greenery. From the right angle, New York's storied buildings weren't without their charm, and even the younger west coast city had its moments. Something to be said about him in that assumption.

"Well, work's not really the best place for all that, anyway. It can get messy." His raised eyebrows hint at a backstory, which he shares after neatly finishing the last of his drink. "The University of Washingon— the other Washington— is big, but not big enough if you're divorced. Not even in different departments. It's half the reason I transplanted here." No great secret in that. No leverage. Except maybe in the other half. But that's laughable enough Abe's not even dignifying it with any consideration. "You have a wife? ... ex-wife?"

[gilverrwrites]

Ted: Favourite sushi place? Maybe we could get dinner some time?

You: Sure, if you promise to bring the good-looking guy with the robot.

Ted: You mean Booster?

You: Your boyfriend’s name is Booster?

Ted: He- He’s not my boyfriend.

You: Oh! I’m sorry. What do you call each other? Husband? Partner? Lover?

Ted: We’re not gay!

You: …

You: Seriously?

[clockworkreapers]

so... today is 413. I am not sorry.

[rjalker]

@eglantier You need to delete those images or add full image descriptions.

@plothooksinc @beanbagapologist @radishhqueen @answeringmysister

Every single one of you needs to edit image descriptions into your reblogs, or delete them and re-reblog if / when @eglantier adds an image description to the original reblog.

Why are you reblogging posts from a physically disabled person and adding undescribed images.

____

Here's the comment @eglantier, who added 6 fucking undescribed images, left, 4 hours ago:

but that's... literally how any book published with the table of contents works, either paper or e-published. the table of contents counts ALL the pages, including title, dedication, previous works and so on. here are some examples across the spectrum of genre fiction, litfiction and non-fiction:

plothooksinc reblogged from egelantier 2h ago and tagged it

#holy shit lmao#egelantier i'm so glad you already responded b/c I was just staring at that post going 'but...but...'

beanbagologist rebloggs from plothooksinc 2h ago and tagged it:

#lmaooooo

radishhqueen rebloggs from plothooksinc 1h ago and tagged it

#lmao also a scam assumes someone benefits?#are we selling books by the page now? did I miss something

answeringmysister reblogged from plothooksinc 1h ago and tagged it

#congratulations on reading your first book op#i hope you enjoy the rest of the series because its very fun!

____

I just. "#lmao also a scam assumes someone benefits?#are we selling books by the page now? did I miss something" via @radisshqueen. Like. I'm. I'm speechless. Tell me you're joking.

Yes, books....are sold.....by the page. The only reason you think that's the most ridiculous concept in the world is that you're shilling for this literal scam telling you it's normal to pay this much for a book less than a centimeter thick.

Oh my gods.

these people are so ready to shill for this scam that they are claiming that *all books do this*, All books literally lie to you about what page number you are on when you are on page 1, and they are using an ebook which has a click throwable fucking table of contents as the counter argument and claiming that this is the first book I have ever read.

While adding undescribed images to my post.

You can't make this shit up folks.

"calling it a scam assume someone benefits!" are you. are you kidding me. Are you serious.

These people are claiming that I've never read any other book so that's why I think that it's a complete and utter fucking scam to literally claim that chapter 1 page 1 is literally page 9 when it's not because that's not how this fucking works.

And they are using screenshots from a fucking ebook that lets you click through the table of contents to prove that every single book in the history of books has always done this.

While claiming this is the first book I've ever read. Because they think every book literally lies to you about the page number. All because they're so desperate to shill for Matha Wells and Tor / Reactor.

For the world's most basic scam that people in this fandom have been calling out since day 1.

And adding undescribed images to my fucking post to boot.

Jesus Christ.

I'm not even gonna hide their reblogs, I genuinely want them to keep showing all their friends and followers how willing they are to lick capitalist boots like this. It's fucking hilarious. I can't wait till everyone who actually reads books that aren't scams sees the shit they're pretending is normal and being all pompous and high and mighty about and goes "Hey...............you know that's a blatant fucking scam, right? That's literally not how books work?" LOFL.

And I'm not gonna stop laughing over the people going "but calling it a scam assumes someone benefits???" Wow, capitalist bootlicker, I wonder who benefits from scamming you out of your money?

Hey did I mention that The Murderbot Diaries books are such a scam that they literally lie to you about what page number you're on in All Systems Red to make it seem like the book has more pages than it actually has?

They're counting literally all the pages that come before actual page 1 chapter 1 as pages of the story. The title page. the second title page. the list of other books she wrote that they purposefully spread across 2 pages literally just to use up another page very blatantly. the third title page. the copyright page.

They're counting all that shit as part of the story.

So they're pretending that Chapter 1 Page 1, is actually page 9, so that they can claim the entire book has more pages of story than it really does.

And then each page's text has an absurdly high margin at the bottom, so that they can artificially spread the text over as many pages as possible, while already lying to you about what page number you're actually on.

All of it is such a brazen scam. And yet somehow I've never seen anyone point out that they literally lie to you about what page number you're on.

And then after all that there's no less than 7 whole entire blank pages at the back of the book. To make the book seem bigger than it is.

And after all that. It's still less than a centimeter wide. And they want you to pay $17 for it, minimum.