#should probably go back and do that too...

[mrspiastri]

✩ angel baby ?? 👼

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, a little bit more fluff, tiny bit angsty nothing tooo bad

wc: 2.9k words

an: IM BACK BITCHES, based on this req!

When this debate had started, you could not remember, but now you were trying your best to not show how red your face looked as you laughed along with the rest of the table.

It was a regular post-race dinner, and Carlos was talking about how he couldn’t think of dating a fan of his.

“I just don’t think I could. I mean, what if they only like me for the fame, you know?”

You didn’t think much of it until your own boyfriend chimed in.

“Me too; it would weird me out, y’know?”

Now, you should have probably mentioned this to Lando at some point during the beginning of your relationship. But to be fair, he never asked, and you’d also only been dating for 8 months—so is it really such a crime to have not told him? You’d never found the chance to tell him you were a major fan of his prior to you meeting.

Of course, you recognised him when you first met—which was at a dinner party hosted in his honour for the company you worked at, who happened to be one of McLaren’s sponsors.

You internally tried your best to not lose your mind when you saw him, choosing to hide with your colleagues as they teased you for how worked up you seemed.

But what you hadn’t expected was for him to walk over to you with two flutes of champagne and then spend the entire night in conversation, with him even sneaking out early with you to get gelato and walk you home.

Ever the gentleman, he made sure to get you home safe and even waited till you reached your apartment—but not before getting your number and a promise that you’d meet him for lunch the next day.

You didn’t sleep a wink that night, too overwhelmed at the idea of going out to lunch with maybe your favourite male celebrity. And if there was a mini helmet of his from Silverstone 2024 on your bedside table, that was nobody’s business but your own.

Okay, maybe you weren’t a psycho stalker fangirl or whatever, but you did know your way around the fandom. You could list all his wins in chronological order, his podiums at each circuit, and could claim to be an owner of at least 4 (!) ln4 hoodies.

You never really admitted you used to be a fan because it was plainly embarrassing. Not to mention, it wasn’t like you actively hid it; you just didn’t care enough to remember.

Now, however, with him talking about not dating a fan, you couldn’t help but sip your wine a bit nervously as you nodded along. It was safe to say you and Lando were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, but honestly neither of you ever thought it would stop.

To say you were enamoured by each other was an understatement, especially with the man completely wrapped around your finger—you could ask him for the world, and he’d show up with it and the stars too.

But with this new revelation, you weren’t sure how to really bring up the topic.

🪻🪻🪻

The next morning, after Lando woke you up to the scent of eggs frying and coffee being brewed, you decided to bring your line of questioning forward. He placed your plate in front of you along with your morning latte, and in that moment you tried to bring up last night’s conversation as nonchalantly as possible.

“So, last night was kind of silly, huh?’

“Whaddya mean?” He replied through a mouthful of toast.

"You know, the whole 'I’d never date a fan' thing you and Carlos were talking about. ” You took a sip as you tried to not make eye contact.

“How was that silly?”

“Like, it’s a bit childish, no? What’s wrong with being with a fan?”

“It’s just weird; like, how do I know you’re not with me because of the fame and all that?” Lando argued.

You didn’t have a response to that without sounding weird for arguing over the subject, so you let it go.

Lando, however, didn’t.

He didn’t think much of it at first. He had just shrugged and continued eating, too focused on trying not to burn his tongue on the eggs he insisted on making for you every Saturday morning.

He found it kind of funny at first. The way you suddenly seemed defensive over the topic. He didn’t think too much of it in the moment, but after he kissed your cheek and cleared your plate, he caught himself thinking about it again as he stood at the sink, running water over your empty mug.

But later, while you were out on the balcony, curled up with your laptop and replying to emails, Lando stood in the kitchen drying a mug and thinking about what you’d said.

He played the memory back in his head more times than he’d admit, narrowing in on the way you fidgeted with your coffee spoon, how you didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t like it when you looked unsure, especially not around him.

Still, life carried on. He flew off to another race weekend while you stayed back to finish a big work presentation, and your FaceTime calls stayed as sappy and full of inside jokes as ever. If anything, he only missed you more.

He didn’t bring up the fan thing again, not when he had you smiling sleepily at him over a video call at 1 am, wrapped in your fluffy robe with your hair still damp from a shower.

He didn’t even think about it when you sent him a care package to his hotel, with snacks and vitamins and a small note that said “you got this, superstar.” He even found himself re-reading that note like a lovesick idiot while sitting in the team garage between sessions.

You, on the other hand, were doing your absolute best not to spiral. The guilt wasn’t huge, but it was persistent, like a little pebble in your shoe. You’d been such a fan, not just a casual “oh yeah, he’s a good driver” kind of fan.

You were active on Twitter, defending him to the death, posting edits of him and liking every one of his photos that came on your timeline.

But you’d changed; that version of you had been real, but so was this one. The same girl who had Lando's toothbrush in her bathroom and who knew exactly how he liked his tea. You weren’t faking anything.

Still, something about admitting the truth just felt risky. What if he took it the wrong way? What if he thought the whole relationship was some long game, like you’d schemed your way into his life?

So you didn’t tell him. And time passed.

You watched more races, cheered from the sidelines or from the hotel room, always with your heart in your throat. You memorised his travel schedule better than your own. You kissed him good luck in the mornings and held him close at night when he was too tired to speak. And Lando just fell harder.

Every time he saw you waiting for him in the paddock, holding out your arms for a hug and smiling like he was the only one in the world, he swore he’d never get used to it. He was so gone for you.

🪻🪻🪻

“Don’t you get bored of me always talking about racing?” Lando questioned you as you shared a bowl of popcorn while watching some of his racing clips. He liked doing that sometimes; it was a way for him to check his mistakes while also being able to observe his victories.

“If I were bored of racing, I don’t think I’d be in a relationship with a racing driver, now would I?” You quipped, flicking his forehead affectionately.

He simply smiled at you, one of his signature cheesy grins, as he laid his head down on your lap.

You softly brushed your fingers through his curls, at the risk of him whining about you messing with the products he spent 20 minutes applying this morning.

The two of you were fixated on the screen, your eyes concentrated on his car zooming down the straights.

“Wait, which race are we watching again?” He questioned as he reached for the remote.

“Monaco 2022”. You replied deftly, popping a few kernels into your mouth.

Lando had a slightly amused look on his face, not expecting you to be so engrossed, but happy nonetheless.

“God, this one still makes me nervous,” you muttered, watching a particularly intense on-track battle.

Lando looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Still?”

You froze. “I mean, it was a good race. Real classic, y’know?”

“You watched this live?”

You tried to smile casually. “Sure. With some friends.”

His eyes narrowed just a bit, suspicious but intrigued. “Wait, how do you even remember this overtake?”

You shrugged. “I guess I was into racing.”

“You were a fan.” He said it slowly, like the idea was just now clicking into place. “Of me.”

You didn’t say anything. Just pulled the blanket up higher and stared at the screen, hoping he’d move on. But he turned to face you fully, grinning now.

“No way. Wait, no. You were. That’s why you brought it up over breakfast months ago. You were embarrassed.”

“I wasn’t,” you mumbled, cheeks heating up. “I just didn’t think it was relevant.”

“You little liar!”

“I’m not!”

“Then why did you hide it?”

You shook your head, but the words were already rising in your throat. “I didn’t tell you because—I was scared.”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Scared of what?”

You played with the edge of the blanket between your fingers, not looking at him. “That you’d think I was with you for the wrong reasons. That I was just some fan trying to get her five minutes of attention or—or chasing after your money or your name or the whole WAG circus. I didn’t want you to look at me and wonder if it was all fake.”

Lando was quiet for a moment.

You could feel your heart in your ears.

“I know it sounds stupid,” you continued quickly, cheeks hot. “But you said you couldn’t date a fan, and it just stuck with me. I didn’t want to risk it. Things were too good. You were too good. I didn’t want to lose you over something so embarrassing.”

“You really thought I’d leave you over that?”

You tried to smile, but it faltered. “I just didn’t want you to think I was one of those people.”

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “God, you think so little of me.”

The words hit you like a slap, but before you could say anything, he reached for you. Gently, he pulled you over and settled you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs as he held you close. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, like he needed to anchor you to him.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice steady now, no trace of laughter left. “I don’t care if you used to have posters of me on your wall. I don’t care if you knew all my stats or made edits or wrote fanfiction; for all I know. None of that matters. Youmatter. What we have now matters.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you stayed quiet.

“I know you,” he whispered, fingertips tracing soft circles against your back. “You don’t care about the spotlight. You hate the cameras. You’ve never once bragged about us on social media or cared about being seen. You’re not here for the parties or the designer tags or the lifestyle. You’re here for me. And I see that every day.”

Your hands slid up to his jaw, your thumb brushing over the small scar on the bridge of his nose. He looked so serious, so impossibly sincere, it made your chest ache.

“I didn’t mean to lie,” you said softly. “I just didn’t want to ruin anything.”

He was still holding you, still cradling you in his lap like you were made of glass and something he’d never let slip through his fingers again. His hands were warm against your back, one resting at the base of your spine and the other slowly running up and down the curve of your side like he needed to remind himself you were real.

“I mean it,” he said again, voice low and sure, brushing his nose against yours. “I don’t care if you knew every stat I ever had. I don’t care if you had a shrine of mini helmets or screamed every time I got on the podium. You could’ve painted your walls neon yellow, and I’d still think you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Your heart squeezed. “I didn’t paint my walls, but I did have a sticker on my laptop.”

He let out a soft laugh, eyes lighting up, but it was full of love now; that kind of warm, weightless love that made your skin feel sun-kissed even in the dim light of the living room.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispered, and then leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

“And you’re in love with someone who once told off a stranger on Twitter for calling you overrated,” you whispered back.

“I am so in love with her,” he said with a grin that made your stomach flip.

Then he kissed you.

Slow at first, like he had all the time in the world, his lips brushing over yours in a way that made your heart stutter and your breath catch. He kissed you like it was something he hadn’t done in a while, like he was rediscovering you. His thumb traced your cheek, his hand sliding into your hair, holding you close without crowding you.

You kissed him back with everything you had.

All the fear you’d carried, all the silly embarrassment, melted into the way he tasted—a little like the popcorn he’d eaten earlier, a little like the mints he always kept in his pocket. It was soft and familiar and brand new all at once.

He pulled back only slightly, his nose brushing yours again. “You’re mine, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes a little glossy, mouth still tingling. “Always.”

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, like even this much space between you was too much. You could feel the way he smiled into it, could feel the quiet little sigh he let out like he’d finally exhaled after holding his breath for months.

You curled your fingers in his hair and kissed him harder, laughing softly against his mouth when he let out a quiet, dazed ‘fuck’ under his breath.

All was well, until—

“Wait, you were on Twitter?”

“…Maybe,” you mumbled.

His eyes lit up. “Oh my god. You did. You tweeted about me. Find them. Show me.”

“I’m not showing you anything.”

Lando was already rolling off the couch and grabbing your phone. “C'mon. You have to. Please. I’ll never ask you for anything else in my life.”

“Maybe”, you mumbled.

His eyes lit up. “Oh my god. You did. You tweeted about me. Find them. Show me.”

“I’m not showing you anything.”

Lando was already rolling off the couch and grabbing your phone. “C'mon, you have to! Please. I’ll never ask you for anything else in my life.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“Okay, but this time I’m serious.”

Sighing dramatically, but secretly already giggling to yourself, you reached for your own phone. You opened the app and scrolled for a moment before finding it. The long-forgotten fan account: locked, dusty, and inactive for over two years.

You held it out wordlessly.

Lando took it, eager.

And then immediately burst into laughter.

“@ln4everangelbaby?! Are you kidding me?”

You snatched it back. “I was seventeen when I made that, Lando.”

He was already breathless, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “No, wait. I need a minute. Angel baby? What was that even supposed to mean?”

You covered your face with your hands. “You had these really cute photo from your debut year, and someone called you that on Tumblr, and I thought it was cute, okay?”

“Oh my god.” He leaned back, shaking with laughter. “This is better than I could have ever imagined.”

He tried to scroll, but the account was locked, and you weren’t about to log in and let him dig through the archives of your cringe era.

“Let me read some tweets,” he begged, tugging at your sleeve like a child.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll buy you dinner every night forever.”

“You already do that anyway.”

“I’ll take you to the Maldives for a week.”

“You’re kidding.”

But his face remained unmoved, completely serious.

“Make it two weeks.”

He hesitated. “Ten days.”

“Twelve.”

“Deal.”

You unlocked the account with the kind of grim resolve one might have before jumping into shark-infested waters and handed it back.

He kept reading out tweets in dramatic fashion, doing voices, quoting your old replies to trolls, and fake-crying when he got to a heartfelt race reaction.

You just curled up smaller and smaller on the couch, your face buried in a pillow while Lando had the time of his life dragging you, groaning occasionally at particular posts you didn’t even remember making.

When he finally calmed down, he tossed the phone gently onto the coffee table and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I think this might be my favourite thing about you.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My terrible teenage Twitter?”

He smiled. “No. That you loved me then, even when I was just some kid in a fast car. And you love me now, even when I’m an idiot who makes fun of your old username.”

“You really can’t let that go, can you?”

“Angel baby,” he whispered, laughing again, and you groaned and buried your face into his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

DID U GUYS MISS ME (the only answer is yes) i missed writing so much im so happy i could put this out :DD enjoy! and im so sorry it’s so short i just am so drained with my first sem in college ! :(

[vid-sold-to-the-saja-boys]

In your Incubus Saja Boys Au, how would the Saja Boys react to Reader, who's completely flustered, especially if any of them or worse, all of them flirt with Reader? Thanks!

You probably just wanted headcanons or something...But I kinda went ham instead. Oops.

Words: 2.4k

Summary: The Saja boys came particularly hungry to this fansigning. That was never a good sign for poor little reader.

Warnings: Suggestive, but not smutty. Being aroused is brought up a lot.

MINORS STILL DNI

READER

I was at the beginning of the line, my knees shaking as I got closer and closer to the Saja Boys. The moment that I had seen them in the Square during their debut performance of Soda Pop, I knew that I would be hooked on them and their singing. It was like a siren calling out, and I was the sea captain ready to walk off into the water. 

Sure enough, I had spent one entire paycheck, buying merch and VIP tickets to a fansigning. One where each individual person got to go in alone, meet the Saja Boys, and spend a couple of minutes with each of them. Then, they would walk out with autographs and the knowledge that the Saja Boys knew of their existence. 

And now I was seconds away from doing just that. And best of all, I was one of the last people in line, so I would probably get more time too.

I could already hear their sweet, angelic voices on the other side of the wall as I got closer. 

“Thanks for coming!” 

Jinu’s voice sent a warm sensation down my body straight to my core. I am not ashamed to admit that I am about to go into this meet and greet completely aroused. Good thing they couldn’t smell stuff like that, especially with all the perfume I was wearing. There was no way in hell I was going to embarrass myself like that. 

I was called up next, and my heart began to pound. I’m barely able to step forward when I’m greeted by the smiling Saja Boys. I would be approaching them from the right. The boys were lined down a row at a table. Romance was first. Then it was Mystery, Abby, Baby, and Jinu. They were all smiling at me. I think I’m going to die. 

I approach Romance, clutching my VIP badge. I felt like I wasn’t allowed here, in the presence of the idols who had recently captured the hearts of everyone. I wanted to run, if I had to be honest. 

“And what’s your name, Darling? I bet it’s as pretty as your face~” Romance cooed at me. He sat nonchalantly, chin resting against his knuckles as his elbow propped himself up on the table. He has the prettiest face of them all, and his pink hair looked so silky smooth. His nostrils slightly flare, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve been caught. If he could smell how turned on I was. 

Holy shit, only a table separated me from Romance and the other Sajas. I wonder if fans have literally jumped across the table to be in their arms. I’m half tempted to but I don’t want to be kicked out so I don’t. 

Gulping, I tell him my name. He immediately grabs a photo of himself and begins to sign it. 

Not long after their performance and win at the Idol Awards, Romance had taken up modeling. I can see that the photo he is signing is one that was professionally taken when he modeled some company’s heart themed clothing company. He was dressed in a heart crop top and low jeans that showed off his V-line. He had a (fake?) tattoo heart on the dip of one of his hips.

Yep, this photo would be going up on my wall. 

Romance finishes his signature with a small heart before handing the photo to me. I wipe my hands on my own jeans before taking the photo. 

He winks at me. “To my darling~” he cooed. Sure enough, that was what he had signed. “Say, you’re absolutely stunning.” His hand caught my wrist before I could fully pull away from him. “You should join me for one of my photoshoots sometime. My agent is telling me to find a pretty partner.” 

I’m stunned when he drags me closer, meeting me halfway across the table. His lips are pressed against my ear. “Check the back of the photo,” he whispered to me.

He lets me go and sits back down. 

I try to be subtle when I check the back of the poster. A number was written on there, nearly making me sputter and spit out a mouthful of imaginary water. My cheeks reddened, and my heart picked up a pace. Oh my god, if that’s actually Romance’s number, I might die. Again. 

Realizing I had been staring at the back of the photo for far too long, I took a step down to the next Saja Boy: Mystery. 

He smiles. I think? 

Having heard your name earlier, Mystery had already signed a photo for you and handed it over. “You have a pretty name. Only pretty girls like you get names like that,” he complimented me. 

There goes my heart again. Am I having a heart attack?

“T-Thank you, Mystery,” I sputtered. 

“Do you want a photo with me?” Mystery asked. 

Stunned, I nodded. 

“Let me help you take it, darling~” Romance cooed as he reached out for what I assume is my phone. 

I fumbled for it and took my phone from my back pocket. Phones weren’t allowed to be out during VIP time, but I suppose if they ask then it must be okay? I give the phone to Romance but then just stand there. Looking dumb. 

Romance chuckles.

“Come on over.” Mystery patted his thigh, calling me over like I was a dog. 

“We can’t get a photo of you if you’re standing on the other side, beautiful.” Romance smirked at me. The smirk shot me straight between the thighs.

“O-Okay.” 

I gave the two a second glance, double checking that it was okay for me to come around to the other side. Romance stepped aside, allowing me closer to Mystery. The moment that I was next to the silver-haired male, he wrapped both arms around me and tugged me to him. 

“Ooof!” I landed on his knee, bracing myself against his chest with my hands. 

“There you go.” Mystery’s voice was low and husky. “This is right where you need to be.” Both his arms wrapped around me, his hands resting right under my breasts, so close to touching them. I wonder if they do this for all their fans… Or am I just this special? Maybe I should always be late to these fansignings. 

He moves closer like he’s about to kiss me but instead his cheek pressed against mine. We face Romance, the pink-haired idol still smirking as he takes god-knows how many photos. 

“There you go!” Romance finally finished, lowering my phone. “Let me just say, you both look stunning in this photo.” He returns the phone with a hand on his hip.

“She’s the stunning one, really.” Mystery’s cheek is still pressed against mine, his nose nudging me gently when he speaks. 

I scroll through the photos, smiling at how perfect they all look. I was a very lucky lady. Who knew a VIP would buy you this much attention. 

“Thank you both so much.” I held the phone to my chest before tucking it away before it could be taken away.

Mystery squeezed me around my middle before letting go. “Anytime.”

When I got off Mystery’s knee, I double checked to make sure I didn’t leave a wet spot. Sure enough, he was dry. I looked away before they could notice me spot checking the Saja Boy. 

I moved to return to the proper side of the table.

A hand reached out and grabbed mine, stopping me from doing so. Before I could even think, the hand pulled me closer. I yelped as I fell against something warm and hard. A large bicep arm wrapped around me, pulling me against something hard that was completely sprawled across my back. 

Abby smirked down at me, flexing the arm that was wrapped around me. 

“I made this for you, babe, but maybe you can do the same thing for me…” Abby showed me the autograph he had done for me. At the top of the page was his name, written, but the real eye catcher was the fact that he had sketched his abs across the paper. That’s also the hard thing that pressed against my back. Not anything else, I swear.

Taking the photo, I placed it on top of the other autographs. “T-Thank you, Abby. What can I help you with?”

Abby took a sharpie off the desk and lifted his patterned pineapple shirt, showing off his abs. Every single ab smiled directly at me. I sucked in a deep breath to stop myself from drooling. 

“You want my autograph…?” I asked in disbelief. 

Grinning, Abby pressed the sharpie into my hand. “Yeah. I want to have something left behind of you, babe.” He pointed down in the direction of his abs with his chin. He had a prominent happy trail and veins that all pointed down to where his cock would be. 

“I’d be happy to⁠—” I blushed and finally gripped the sharpie though almost drop it. The moment that I agreed to sign his body, Abby not-so subtly leaned closer, the tip of his nose pressing against my cheek. He held the position until I finished my name. 

“Thanks, babe~” he cooed and kissed my cheek. I nearly jumped out of the man’s lap. Instead, I stood, not checking Abby’s lap as I moved onto the next Saja Boy: Baby Saja. 

Behind me, Abby was smirking down at his lap. 

The blue-haired Saja boy was already turned toward me, his cheek leaned against his palm. He had a lollipop in his mouth but took it out of his mouth when I approached him. “Took you long enough. What do you want me to sign?”

When my eyes scanned the table, I saw that he didn’t have a photo to sign in front of him. Maybe he just ran out? I wasn’t sure what I had that he could sign, so I took my phone out again (double checking that no one would protest against it) and handed it to Baby. “Can you sign my phone case?”

Baby chuckled and took the phone. “Can you hold this for me then?” he asked as he held up his purple lollipop. I nodded and held my hand out for the stick. However, before I could take it, Baby shoved it directly into my mouth. The taste of the spit-coated grape lollipop filled my senses. My eyes widened. At this point, I wasn’t sure if it was possible to become more flustered than what I was right now. 

Baby maintained eye contact with me, smirking as he signed my phone case without looking down at it once.

Not handing it back at first, he lifted the phone and took some selfies, making various types of expressions and hand motions. After taking a plethora of photos, he handed the phone back. I would have to look at the photos at a different time, but I was pretty sure that I stood in the background of those photos, looking like a complete idiot with that lollipop hanging out of my mouth.

Baby stood and cupped my face with his hands. I could feel the texture of his sweater itch against my cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue swirling inside until it brought the candy out of my mouth and into his. When he pulled back and flopped back into his chair, the white stick poked out of his proud, smug, smirking mouth. 

My insides were now butterflies. Baby Saja just kissed me. I was either the most congratulated girl in the world, or the most hated one now. 

I felt weightless as I moved onto the last Saja Boy who sat patiently at the end of the table. Jinu. When I looked at him, it was as though time slowed down, or I forgot how to use the main function of my legs. 

“You’re lucky. Baby doesn’t usually give out kisses like that for free,” Jinu says with a smirk, offering me a hand. I took it and his long fingers wrapped around my whole hand. As if he had an instinct for it, Jinu brought my knuckles to his lips, kissing them. 

Standing up and letting go of my hand along the way, the final idol towered over me. “You’ve been a pleasure to have around today. Truly a highlight of the entire fansigning.”

My heart felt touched. I placed a hand over it. “Really? Thank you…That means a lot to me. It’s been amazing to meet all of you up close and personal.”

“The pleasure is all ours. This is for you. We hope to meet you again.”

Jinu gave me one of his signed posters before taking a photo off the table that had everyone in it. Everyone’s name was already presigned, but Jinu turned it over and wrote a small message on the back. Before I could read it, he placed it underneath his own photo with a smirk. 

My eyes widened as he leaned closer to my face. I think he’s about to kiss me, but instead his lips move to the side of my face, whispering into my ear. “You’re the most delicious-looking person that I have ever seen.” He held the position for a few seconds longer before releasing my wrist. 

Bold, but not as bold as the other Saja Boys had been. 

Wait, what was I saying? Did I want Jinu to do something crazy, like kiss me?

Of course I did, so I felt a little disappointed when he didn’t make an attempt. 

I walked to the end of the table and turned toward the Saja Boys. I never thought that they would work so hard to make my insides flutter the way that they have. I was lucky that these VIP signings were all private, or it could have been ruined by other fans. 

The Saja Boys all stared at me with hungry gazes. I was almost at a loss for what to say. 

“T-Thank you for having me,” I sputtered and quickly bowed. Turning on my heel, I walked off the signing stage with the posters against my chest. I was down the small set of stairs when I took out the poster Jinu had signed and flipped it over to read the message. 

We would like to see you again. It’s not everyday when we find a delicacy like you. We could just eat you right up.

I stopped on the spot, head cocked. 

What she didn’t know was that all the Saja Boys were right on her heels, their eyes glowing yellow with hunger. 

If ya'll like it I might do a part 2 with a gangbang or something.

Check out my Masterlist on my Pinned Post

[yasministration]

humiliated - harry potter

wolfstar!daughter au summary: when harry gets overstimulated from the feeling of the shirt clinging onto his skin whilst he's helping his dad with chores outside, he forgets a very crucial detail before deciding to take it off. wc: 1k cw: suggestive themes

The sun was searing hot, Harry’s skin going slick with sweat as he helped his dad set up the dinner table outside. He didn’t want to complain about the mundane chore, but it was only midday, and dinner was in many, many hours from now. So Harry didn’t understand why they had to do this when the sun was at its strongest.

“This chair is broken. Could you replace it with another one from the shed please Harry?” Harry nodded at his dad’s request, reaching to take the wooden chair from him. Harry huffed, forearms flexing as he folded the chair back up, before making his way into the shed. Reaching for the nearest chair, Harry made sure it wasn’t damaged before joining James again.

Harry put his hands on his hips, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back to take a short break. In the distance, he heard his dad asking something of him, but Harry was running too hot to understand what he was saying, shirt clinging to his skin uncomfortably.

“Sorry, hold on.” Harry mumbled, tone probably more snappy than he intended. James’s eyebrows shot up at his son’s tone, but his face quickly contorted into one of understanding when Harry pulled his t-shirt off. If it were appropriate, Harry would have stripped out of his jeans too. “Right, what did you say?” Harry asked, wiping the sweat off his skin using his discarded garment.

“Do you think we should move the table closer to the lake? Or keep it near the house?”

“It might be nice near the lake. Since most of the Weasleys have never been here before.” James nodded at Harry’s words, patting his pockets to feel around for his wand. Missing. “Well, help me carry the tables over there.”

Harry instantly regretted his decision, but he obeyed anyway, turning around to walk over to the other end of the wooden table.

A loud laugh had him spinning around again to meet his dad’s eyes. James’s face was both amused and shocked, his mouth contorted into a wide smile. “What?”

“Jesus, Harry. You’d think you were attacked by a mountain lion.”

“What are you on about?”

“I’m on about the state of your back.” Harry’s face instantly went red, and he brought a hand to the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously. “I forgot about that.”

James laughed loudly, jerking his chin towards the table. The smile didn’t leave his face as he and Harry carried down the table closer to the lake. Harry avoided his dad’s eyes the entire time, hoping he wouldn’t tell your parents anything. Your parents, a.k.a, his dad's best friends. After all, it was only last night that you’d given Harry these angry scratches on his back. He didn’t know if your nails were extra long or if he’s just been rougher on you than usual, but he felt the pain across his skin the second he woke up, and now, as sweat seeped over the broken skin.

It took a few minutes of painful silence for Harry and James to transport all the outdoor furniture to their designated place. James clasped a hand on Harry’s sweaty shoulder when they were done, and Harry winced in pain at the sharp sting on the fresh marks, but didn’t dare to say a word as they returned indoors.

The two men entered the house just in time for Lily to walk into the living room. “I was just coming to check up on you guys. Are you done?”

Lily didn’t receive an answer to her question, her husband immediately changing the topic of conversation. “Lily Potter, take a look at your son’s back.” “Dad.” Lily furrowed her eyebrows, walking closer to Harry. She put a hand on her son’s shoulder, encouraging him to turn around slightly. She gasped loudly.

“You better get dressed before Sirius and Remus come to help if you want to keep your life, Harry.” Harry’s face went impossibly darker at the comment, and he miserably hid his back from his mum. “I know, I know. I was planning on getting ready now.”

Harry’s face morphed into one of panic as another voice entered the room, calling out from the kitchen. He didn’t know you were already here. “Alright, everything’s in the oven. I was thinking of getting started on chopping the vegetables for the salad while you get-oh, hey!”

“Hi.” Harry’s voice shook as he greeted you. You cleared your throat, licking your lips as your eyes shot between him and his dad, who was smiling a little too widely for your liking. You took in Harry’s appearance, noting the way his cheeks were rosy – beyond the heat – and how his eyes seemed to flit away from yours every couple of seconds.

“You look humiliated.” You told him, eyebrows raising slowly. “Oh, she doesn’t know. You don’t know.” James was elated, breaking into another fit of laughter. “Oh, Harry, show her.” Harry sighed deeply, only following his dad’s plea due to the look of confusion on your face.

“Oh my god, Harry! I’m so, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Harry smiled softly at your words, watching as you sped towards him, arms extended, but not touching him. Oh, you looked so guilty. Harry cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head at you. “It’s okay, I, it’s okay.” I like it, he tried telling you with his eyes. You huffed, shrugging your shoulders as you whispered “It’s never been this bad.”

Harry grinned now, completely forgetting his parents were in the room. He dipped his face down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“We have arrived!” Harry’s head shot up, eyes widening in panic, and he immediately took off, sprinting in the direction of the stairs. The door to his room slammed shut, and only a second later, your dads entered the living room, carrying grocery bags in each hand.

“What was that about?” Asked Remus, turning his head in the direction that Harry had disappeared in. You shrugged, shaking your head. “No idea.”

“Alright… Lily, do you need any help in the kitchen.” From behind Remus, Sirius’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “Oh no, Rem. You’re not stepping foot in that kitchen. Go help James with the big boy chores.”

taglist: : @c0ldstvfh, @dlljdhsh, @thenasoneshots, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @fandomhoe101, @sharkers00, @blablablacookie, @joonbread, @mischivana, @rhettsluvr, @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @slytherin-princess-x, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @girlontheblock, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @rhettsluvr, @gr1mesgirl

[wingfleur]

thinking about sitting on clark kent’s lap while you vent after a long day of work.

it doesn’t matter if you’re a journalist at the daily planet, or a lawyer, or currently in school with a part-time job to help hold you over. whatever it may be, you can always count on clark to listen to you while you debrief, his hands on your thighs as you rant and rave about your boss being a dick yet again.

clark’s interest in your day is always genuine. he’s a guy who truly cares about the little things— hell, he’s probably the first superhero to ever pause mid-battle to save a squirrel from getting crushed, even when the world-at-large is clearly at stake. that’s one of the things you love about him— how his heart seems to rule everything he does, rather than his head— and because of that, you never have to worry about whether he’s being authentic or not. but heart of gold aside, clark’s far from good at everything.

and one thing about clark is that he’s never been a good actor.

“clark,” you say to him suddenly, the sound of your voice forcing him to straighten up. his eyes painfully pry themselves away from the curve of your lips to meet your eyes— which he finds beautiful too, don’t get him wrong— but alongside their usual admiration for him, he finds that they regard him with an endless amount of mirth.

ah, fuck. he’s been caught, hasn’t he?

“you’ve been staring at my lips for the past 5 minutes,” you say, chastising him softly. “did you hear a single word i said?”

yeah. he’s definitely been caught.

“i— god, sorry,” clark says quietly, blue eyes helplessly falling back to your lips. he’s in no position to be making excuses, and he really doesn’t mean to keep staring at you like this, but, god, he can’t seem to help it! all clark wants is to kiss you really, really badly right now, because no matter how much you like to deny it, he finds you absolutely stunning when you’re all ready for bed and talking his ear off. but despite his desperation, clark was raised to be a gentleman, not a dog. he acknowledges that there’s a proper order to these things: first, he should listen to you talk, then validate your feelings, and wait until you declare yourself finished before making a move, but clark’s never been all that good at controlling himself and, if you keep going, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to—

you’re leaning down to kiss him before he can even complete that thought.

clark melts into the kiss like clockwork. those big, strong hands of his that have been drawing mindless circles into the skin of your thighs begin to knead them softly, palms slowly creeping up to disappear under your his sleep shirt. he squeezes the fat of your hips and waist firmly until you pull back to rest your forehead against his, and he’s disoriented enough for his pupils to dilate in a way is distinctly inhuman, but so incredibly clark kent that it makes it endearing, rather than unsettling.

oh, you love your alien boyfriend.

“was that enough for you, supes?” you say coyly, a hand gliding effortlessly from his shoulder into his hair. your fingers tangle into the cropped curls at his nape and clark’s eyes flutter shut from the feeling, the weight of his head falling lax in your palm. he swallows dryly and cracks a crooked, boyish smile at you before opening his eyes back up.

“not really, but it’ll do.” clark stares up at you adoringly, giving you the opportunity to watch those pupils of his finally return to normal. “the good news is that i’m not all that distracted anymore.”

you roll your eyes at him, but clark grins slyly, his thumbs tracing lightly across your stomach.

“i think superman can behave himself until you finish what you were saying.”

# — navigation

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

I'll do you one better and tell you why they're my faves:

The person who tagged me — we're both ND and silly and have that solidarity and I'd hang with Nezz irl

@anyadafluffernutter — newest homie with immaculate vibes that I don't Tumblr with often but I genuinely appreciate (she makes me cry in a good way on rare occasions)

@mystical0bubble — I like when lil guys™ call me by parental titles, makes me feel special; I wish we could talk more

@mildlybizarrecorvid — we don't even talk I'm just based because corvid

@hoisinblackcat — i forgot who you are again but seeing your user makes my brain happy and excited so I'm assuming we have good memories and vibes

@irritablepoe — whatever mental illness you're dealing with hella relatable and I think you're cool and brave for existing and surviving even if you don't think it and I've had a squish on you at least once at most five times

@meliae-cinis — I still don't know how to talk to you but sometimes daydream about us developing that fanfic author friendship where we gush about story ideas together. your squish count is...two(?). more than one, less than three.

@maodear — so...many...theories...

@purfectmocha — not sure what our relationship status is tbh (are we simply associates or are we friends who even knows; mutuals are mutuals) but I'd buy you expensive boba without thinking twice

@ventiilatte — we started at qpr skk and now we're moots and man I forget to talk to you but I sometimes sit back and hope me writing you a fic on the spur of a moment could possibility communicate to you how much I care even though I'm bad at remembering to check in on moots

@midnight-soulless-system — would probably sock someone for a friend and that's based as hell

@xintre — I really do think you're neat I'm sorry we never talk idek what type of stuff you like so I can't write you a fic as an apology

@aesthetic-watermelon — being unwell about action fantasy manhwa makes you based as hell

@bunderies @nihilitix @pestilencesingsyouforward — we were in the trenches together

@redilyavailable — Roro, you know why i like you you autistic corn muffin

@piningapple — Sherlock moot. Based. We should talk more but what even about lmao

@queerwritersingerdramaqueen — you give me tired book store owner/helper vibes and would probably make me a cup of tea for my migraines

@sofiochka — you blast me with amazing vibes every time I gaze upon you. never actually had a squish on you because we ended up being buddy buddy fast enough lol...okay maybe I had half of one

@bungoustraypups — I forgot if you hate ping chains or not so pls pls pls don't blast me I just wanna tell you you're cool and a part of my digital life

@voidplague — I'm going in the order I found the accounts you'd be at top otherwise pookie

@plastikstarz — you never talk to me on Tumblr but like we're literally found family

@ask-chachamaru-kny — I hope you come back some day because you're an early memory for me

Honorable mention:

@briefpeachdinosaur — I don't remember if you're the moot who secretly annoys me or the one so brilliant I am in awe of your existence; my bad, bro

@iri-desky — We became mutuals before I figured out that we weren't supposed to become mutuals and it's kind of too late now and I think you're cool and you seem to like me too so that's happening

Dead mentions/deactivated:

Monsterscribetya, I think about you so often I hope you're safe and well and I miss you

mizinthropy, I will forever regret not saving the fan art that you made me because I grieve more than just a contribution of our relationship. I have nothing to remember you by.

On the chance I missed you, please go blame my drivers who keep me stressed and never stop unloading tasks on me even on my month long "vacation"

favirote moots?

(People you tag have to reblog and say their favorite moots)

Okay wait

@ibrokeurheartbcuzubrokemine @foliverfalls @allyeilishh @addisonraesbaby @emiliesblohsh @bilsslut @noodleswashere @bilsbabyy @bitchesbrokenpromises @billsdollie

[neodazed]

bf heeseung (kinda mean) OBSESSED with readers tiddies. Thats it. All day, all night, thats what he wants. In mouth, hands, whatever. To the point where it HURTS.

tried my best babes sorry if its ass (ironically) — 528

tw: tit!obsessed hee, mean, hurts a little, unprotected pinv, mdni

It’s actually so bad…

Heeseung is, no doubt, a tit-man. An addict. A worshipper. A sucker. A boob devoted desperate man.

First of all, he only falls asleep if he’s holding one of your tits. Cupped in his palm, all for him to fondle like a stress ball until he dozes off:( Or, if he’s particulalry a needy ass, he has to have it in his mouth. Yes, like an actual baby. You have mentioned to him that it might be a tiny bit weird, which only got you a warning glare, so…

That’s for the mornings. During the day, he also can’t and won’t go without them. He stands behind you while you’re getting ready in the bathroom and gropes you slowly, brushing his own teeth with his free hand, both an important part of his routine. And, most of the time, it’s not even sexual?? When you two study together, and he is fidgeting with your nipple, it’s not because he is hard, or wants to tease, it’s an automatic move for him. So when you ask him to stop, pissed off, he does not see the reason why, since it’s literally peak domestic activities for him…

‘What are you on? Let me spend time with my babies outside of sex. Just get back on your assignment and stay quiet.’

Sometimes, when you watch a horror or action movie, and he get’s excited or jumpscared, he squeezes so hard you actually don’t know if you want to whimper in pain or pleasure. He’d look at you, pretending to be sheepish about it, muttering a soft “sorry” and keeps doing it.

Because yeah, he puts all his stress and love, probably all his emotions to be honest, into those grips. And for you, it all has started to become a blurred mix of discomfort, concern, and pleasure.

In bed? If he was too much before, you should multiply that by a hundred, and then you’d get how Heeseung acts when you have sex.

His favorite positions are obviously cowgirl, and missionarry (he couldn’t choose between those two). It’s the easiest when you ride him, though. You always look so cute, grabbing onto his shoulder, bouncing yourself on his cock, keep pushing your chest in his face. He helps you with his hands, slams your pussy down onto his base again and again, while chasing after your tits like a starved man. Suckling, licking, biting…

The euphoria of your cunt cletching around him makes him lose his mind, not even attempting to be gentle with you in the moment, cause he knows he can’t. With one especially strong squeeze of your pussy, he bites down, hard, and your fingers immediatelly find his hair, trying to pull him off, a pained hiss leaving your lips.

‘Hee, stop, it hurts!’ You whimper, and he pulls off for a minute.

‘It can’t hurt that bad, since you just came for the third time.’ — He rolled his eyes, fucking up into you harder — ‘Shut up, and take it. Give me my tiddies back.’

[indigosfindings]

i havent really come back to the like "satisfaction brought it back" etc stuff much (my attitude is that like, i said my piece pretty comprehensively around 3 years ago & my opinion on the subject hasnt really changed in that time) but like. there really is something interesting going on there right? like from the foundation of the heuristic a really strange perspective on, like, The Function Of Words is revealed. like the contention of "full version" claims is essentially that You Have Been Lied To, that a True & Worthwhile & Radical & Liberatory concept has been suffocated & hidden from you so that a detrimental concept could take root instead, & that the battleground for this War Over Your Mind & Morals is... popular adages.

take as an example: "the early bird gets the worm" / "but the second mouse gets the cheese". these are clauses with a pretty straightforward illustrative utility: person 1 might say "the early bird gets the worm" to convey something like "i think it's best to do this thing asap," & person 2 might reply "...but the second mouse gets the cheese" to convey "i disagree--i think caution is more important than haste here." implicitly both people should understand what they are referring to (person 1 might be voicing their opinion on sleep schedules, project management, important purchases...) because these idioms arent actually a conduit into fundamental truths of the universe: theyre recognizable shorthands symbolizing a pertinent thought! but the alleged "full version" has no use in that context: "the early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese" is contradictory! there's extremely limited utility in an adage that's, like, arguing with itself lmao. in fact, neither of the clauses is universally transferable to every single situation! when you use an idiom, youre not consulting it to decide what you believe--youre using it to *express* what you believe. & that leads into the mistake that the "full versions" truthers make: theyre assuming of language a kind of power that disregards its actual utility

the often commented-on contradiction between "many hands make light work" & "too many cooks spoil the broth" doesnt tell us that these are two fundamental codes of reality whose mutual opposition hints at A Glitch In The Matrix--it tells us that these are two different phrases that have utility in two different contexts to communicate two different ideas, & that neither *needs* to be applicable to every context, any more than the existence of the term "book club" would imply that every gathering on earth is a book club.

like radically (from the roots!) to say "the full version of the phrase was cut down so that people would not be free thinkers" is to say "altering a phrase will alter the ideas beneath the phrase", which is to assume that axioms are speaking a truth or concept into existence: implanting values in your mind rather than representing ideas out of your mind--implying a certain responsibility toward justice, veracity, ethics, etc, & a correlary danger (cognitohazard?) if that responsibility is not met. itd be like saying that a mnemonic like "ROY G BIV" dictates the order of the colour spectrum. it's a strange & immaterial way to conceptualize language--in fact, it's probably that same immateriality that allows the conspiracy-theory conclusion that ~they~ have made a concerted effort to suppress these phrases.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Just an idea, and one I'll probably use at some point, but feel free to use (please use. Hand over your fanfic. I wanna see)

But instead of Danny being trans, it Jazz. Now I hear you going "people already make her trans", but no, I'm not saying AMAB, I'm saying AFAB. Like what if one of the reasons she got into psychology was because she was like "something's not right", but she's unwilling to bring up she's actually a he because Jazz knows the Fentons would freak out and blame a ghost if she (or rather he) didn't have scientific backing.

Imagine

Jazz, when Danny figures out he knows about his ghostliness: Since I know a big secret about you, I'll tell you a big secret of mine

Danny: Huh? What? You have a secret??

Jazz: I'm trans. I'm actually a guy, but I'm terrified of Mom and Dad's reactions so I'm pretending to be a girl.

Danny: Oh! Oh, shit!

Jazz: Yeahh... Do you have questions?

Danny, a teenager in the 90s/early 2000s but hangs out with SAM who definitely would have known and been passionate about trans identities, plus Jazz probably brought up the topic to "explain something interesting he learned about" to test the waters beforehand: er? No? Do you have a new name? Or is Jazz still fine? And when should I use your correct pronouns? Who are you out too?

Jazz: Jazz is fine, I haven't picked out a new name yet and Jazz is neutral. You're actually the first person I've told so far, so it's best to keep it private for now. I'm not ready for people to know yet

Danny, hugs his big brother: okay, got it. Love you, Jazz.

Jazz, hugging back: Love you too, Danny

Just this kind of thing ^^^^

[starmy-sky]

Paws and Promises

Pairing: CEO!Lee Know x Fem!Reader

Summary: You fiance has not once shown up to your wedding planning dates, in fact, he barely shows up at all. After ten months of being engaged and still no wedding or even solid plans for the ceremony, you seek comfort by adopting a cat that randomly showed up on your porch the same day Minho was supposed to go on a business trip.

Or... Minho gets karma for being a bad fiance by being turned into a cat.

Tags: Angst to Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Engaged!AU, Break Up, Negligence, Longing, Cat!Lee Know

Word Count: 4.1K (Masterlist)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"How long is the trip again?"

"Two weeks, Y/N."

"So I should schedule our wedding planner interviews by the third week?" You try to catch his eyes, but they were everywhere but on you. It's been like that for a while.

Minho busies himself packing a suitcase, letting out a half-minded hum. "Why can't you schedule it any other day? You're available."

Because you want it to be with him. You wanted to think of the motif with him, the flowers, the decorations, the guests, the cake flavor, the venue, the rings. It should be about you and him, not just you.

But... perhaps you're being too sentimental. You look at Minho now as the successful CEO he became from all his hardwork, he's serious, strategic, stoic. Unlike the Minho you met in your senior year of high school, the one that was silly, loud, and cheeky, sneakily slipping into your heart by acting both nonchalant while seemingly never getting enough of your attention.

Almost like a cat.

Maybe the Minho now isn't the type to want to be involved in menial things like planning the wedding, in fact, it seems as if he has no plans to be wed anytime at all, he's much too busy now.

You look down at your ring, a glimmering diamond adorned it while the metal that wraps around your finger forms into swoops that border the diamond. It's very beautiful, though he never explained to you why he chose that design, you always find yourself admiring the ring, a symbol of a future with him.

You smiled, trying to ease your feelings as you always do. "I'll keep that in mind." You answered, leaving the conversation to die once again.

...

It rained the day he left for the business trip, the sky mirroring your feelings of sorrow as you're reminded that he'll probably be a ghost the whole two weeks.

He's already pretty elusive when he's there, staying at the office late and going in early in the morning. You've always been thankful for him, providing for you even before you got engaged and letting you quit your less than ideal office job when he did propose.

Your thoughts were cut off when rough scratching rings from the door, panicked mews accompanying them as you rush to open.

A tuxedo cat barges into the house as if it lived there, grumbling in annoyance as it pounces on the rug to dry itself from the rain.

As it does so, it starts to screech at you. "Y/N, Y/N, it's me! I'm Minho, I have no idea what happened, but you need to call an ambulance or a vet, or even a wizard!"

"Honey, honey, it's okay, you're safe here..."

"No the hell it's not okay! I got turned into a cat!"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." You gently shush the cat, stepping closer inch by inch.

"Can't you understand me?!"

"Aww, I wish I can understand what you're meowing about, honey."

"...I'm doomed."

It was supposed to be a normal day for Minho, an unluckly, but albeit normal day. As he's about to leave for the airport from the office, he realized he forgot some documents at home.

He decided to leave his luggage in his office and drive back home to get the documents. As luck would have it, his car breaks down in the middle of the rain. He curses the sky as he opens the door to check if there's any way to get home, only for lightning to strike accompanied by blinding light.

The next second he opens his eyes, he had paws and whiskers and he was only a few inches off the ground.

Scared, he runs home as fast as he could, clawing at your door and now he's here, utterly doomed.

...

It's been five days and Lino, the name you have the cat, had no intention of going back outside. In fact, he struts around the place like he knows it by heart.

His relentless meows have not gone away either, at least once an hour he sits by your side or jumps to stand face to face with you and frantically meow his heart out, almost like he's desperately trying to make you understand him.

You just sum it up that maybe he's just a really active and talkative cat, and you continue to indulge him by nodding and smiling and scratching behind his ears and chin.

Minho puffs up frustrated sighs everytime.

"Magic exists and I was cursed to turn into a cat, Y/N!"

"Lino, you're demanding more food? You just cleaned out your whole bowl 20 minutes ago." You giggled as the cat seemed to stomp at your reply.

"You didn't put enough and you know I have a big appetite. Oh, and you have to find out how turn me back into a human!"

"Aww, my little kitty is upset, you want some pets?" You scooped up the grumpy cat and placed him on your lap on the couch.

"No, I don't want pets, Y/N! Can't you see that this is your fiancé in front of you?"

He swears it was the cat side of him that immediately calmed down and leaned into you touch when you started to scratch his chin. And it was definitely that same side that pawed at your hand when you stopped.

As his eyes slowly closed in content, a picture frame on the side table caught his attention. It was a picture of you and him.

Minho sits up immediately and leaps to the picture. "Here, here!" He points at the picture of himself and then his cat body.

You stand in shock, looking at the picture of you and your fiance. "You're right, Lino..." Minho felt like he could leap in joy at your response.

"I should call him... it's been almost a week since we last spoke."

He meows in protest, but it was too late as you already went ahead and grabbed your phone.

Minho remembers that he left his luggage and phone in his office when he drove back home to get some of the documents he forgot. His office was completly inaccessible to anyone when he's away and his phone was in silent mode.

Of course no one was gonna answer you. But you didn't know that. Minho stares at you in frustration first, still not being able to effectively communicate with you.

But as he looks up at you again, the faint expression of excitement replaced with slow defeat as you call goes to voicemail, his eyes soften from that of annoyance to... he doesn't know.

But he doesn't like that look on your beautiful face.

"Hey, my love, just calling in to check on you. I'm sure you must be busy, but I want you to know that I really miss you, okay?" Despite your mood shifting when he didn't answer, you tried to keep your voice happy, unaware of the knowing look from the cat beside you.

He listens intently at your words. "Take care of yourself and don't skip on sleep or meals. Okay, I love you... c-call me when you can."

You end your message, looking back at the cat with a smile that held back the emotion in your eyes. "Well, that could've have gone better."

"He's busy, you know? And every second of his day is important." You sigh, leaning into the couch cushions and closing your eyes. "Can't expect him to be thinking of me too when he's already got so much on his mind."

Minho thinks he could spare a call and maybe a few texts, just so he doesn't ever get to see that solemn look on your face.

He gets back up on your lap, cuddling into your stomach, and for the first time since he came in, he stays quiet, purring softly as if to comfort you.

You look down at him and smile, "Thank you, honey, I needed that."

...

Your heart never rests, and everyday you did the same thing, calling him and never getting answered, leaving a voice message that never seems to be heard. Minho sticks by your side each time, and your glad that you have a companion that cuddles up to after each disappointing call.

His little cat heart begins to ache a bit. He shouldn't have gotten used to it, to shrugging off your missed calls, to replying late to your messages, to not being there. Not when your lips turn into a frown that he had the privilege of usually never seeing before because he actually made you happy back then.

He made you happy back then...

But now? He can't even see what he makes you feel because he's never there.

And when he's here... he's a stinking cat!

You wipe your tears before they make it past your cheeks, looking at the lack of any reply on your phone. The ring on your finger glimmers beside your phone, reminding you of the promise of marriage that never seems to come.

Minho's cat eyes find the same ring, and a guilty feeling consumes him. That ring, it looks out of place on you finger, and he knows why.

...

Two weeks.

He's supposed to be home today.

Yet still no reply.

Lino has calmed down now, no more meowing fit and screaming in your face or trying to make you understand, though he still does have some weird behavior like using the toilet instead of the cat litter you bought him, tucking himself next to you in bed like a human, going into Minho's office and just staring at the papers on his desk. And for a cat, he's awfully afraid of heights.

No matter how much of an odd cat he is, you have to admit that without him, you would have been in a depressive spiral trying to contact Minho. You've been left hanging for so long that you actually started to get worried that something may have happened to him.

"I should call his assistant, right? Something might have happened and he couldn't contact me." The cat bounced from his loaf position, walking eagerly to you.

"That's a great idea! Then they'll tell you that I didn't make it to my trip and I'm missing."

"Okay, here I go." The phone rings and soon his assitant picks up.

"Hello, you are calling Lee Corp. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I was just wondering if there's any news on Minho over there. If he's okay and whatnot."

"Oh." The voice at the other line seem to turn snarky as she realizes who you are. "Ms. Y/N, if Mr. Lee is not responding to you, then he must be very busy and has no time to check his phone."

Minho's head turns, he's never heard his assistant speak in such a condescending voice, especially not to his fiancé.

"There's no need to worry, Ms. Y/N, the team and I take good care of him, so your worry is not needed. I'm sure Mr. Lee is fine, and you should not bother contacting him because it might interfere with his important business."

Minho leaps to you lap, grumbling and hissing at your phone speaker. "What the hell are you saying?"

"Wait... can you call him for me? I just need to talk to him..." You pleaded, but you're met with a scoff.

"Ms. Y/N, there's no need for a call, Mr. Lee will be home soon and you can continue to cling to him as you please." The assistant hangs up at that, making you stare at your phone in disbelief.

Minho too was stunned by the sheer unprofessionalism of his assistant, he wishes he could have said something to defend you, to let you know that he won't let her speak to you like that.

Though for you, that call was a shot to your heart more than anything, inflating your insecurities as you stare at your reflection on the screen.

He doesn't need you, you are only a bother to him, you cling to him while he tries to move forward. Maybe that's why he's so miserable in your relationship.

Tears start to quietly fall from your eyes as you let your thoughts take over you. Minho immediately paws at your face, but you avoid it, hugging your legs and crying into your knees, keeping yourself hidden from his gaze.

You feel his paws at your side, his body trying to snuggle closer to you, but no matter how much you try to appreciate it, no amount of comfort can make you feel better right now.

...

It was another rainy night, still no sign of Minho despite him supposedly coming home today.

You prepared Lino's dinner, but he seemed far too anxious to eat.

He can't eat when he sees you constantly looking at your phone with a deep thought, typing up something only to delete it later.

He wonders what could be in your mind, you might be mad at him, he understands. He also wonders if he's ever gonna turn back to human, or is he just forced to watch as you begin to believe that he has left you with no explanation.

Your phone starts to ring, and he immediately bolts to your side on the kitchen counter.

You're calling him again, and he hates that he can't answer, that he can't make up some excuse so you don't have to believe that he's ignoring you on purpose.

Unsurprisingly, it goes to voicemail. You sigh heavily, as if bracing yourself to let it all out on a recording that you're not even sure he's gonna listen to. He does the same, his heart pounding at what you could possibly say to him.

"Hey, Minho, I don't know if you're getting my messages, if you are, I don't even know if you bother to listen to them."

"I wanted to talk to you about us, and what I've been feeling."

Minho's eyes never falter from your dishearted figure.

"I haven't heard from you this entire two weeks, and honestly, I haven't heard much this past few months."

"I know, I'm sorry, my love."

"And I know it's unfair to demand your attention when you're already so busy, but I... I-I just wanted to see you more, and for you to see me too." You try to contain your sobs, hoping to let out more words before your an incoherent mess.

"You deserve my attention, and so much more."

"I have loved you since we were in high school, and more and more every single day after that."

"I feel the same way..."

"But maybe your love isn't the same as mine anymore. Maybe you grew tired."

"Please don't say that..."

"A-And that's why I feel like I should let you go."

"Please don't let me go..."

"I want you to be happy, Minho, to find someone that you can love wholeheartedly. To love your past, present, and make your future beautiful."

"That's you, Y/N."

"Please know that I do still love you and-" *beep*

*Voicemail has exceeded the time limit.*

"God I hate you too..."

Minho looks up at you, his cat eyes glossy. He wishes for you to keep going, to let it out and let him hear all of his wrongdoings.

"I hate you for promising me that I'll be marrying the love of my life, I hate you for ignoring me when all I wanted was to love you, I hate you for taking away the Minho I fell in love with for a decade. I hate you for making me love you no matter how much it hurts me."

Your phone lays flat on the counter, catching your tears as you cry your message into the air.

"I just wish you're here right now... so you would know how much it hurts."

"I'm here..." He meows at your sorrow, head down in shame.

The sound of metal hitting marble catches his ear, and in the next second he sees your figure returning to your room, while beside him, your ring wobbles slightly before it lands flatly right in front of his face.

...

It took two hours before the sobs from your room has calmed down, two hours before the storm outside picked up to accompany thunder. Two hours and he stays planted in his place.

Minho silently stared at the ring on the counter, his eyes trained on it as if it was a threat. He lays on the counter semi-loaf, paws under his chin as he stares unblinking at the ring.

Stupid ring. Ugly, meaningless, basic. That's what he thinks of it.

You derserve better, not just the first thing he saw when he went into the jewelry store. He got a random ring, proposed to you on a random day, and treated it like it meant nothing.

He did it because he was scared, he saw the way you started looking so down months ago, he saw how you no longer lit up the way you did around him, he saw the space between you expanding and he couldn't have that.

He was scared to lose you, so he proposed. And the way you lit up again ten times brighter brought him a sense of security.

Candles eventually burn out and he saw that even after getting a ring, you never escaped the emptiness that haunted your relationship.

It's his fault, for working himself to death, for acting like his work was his life, for thinking that one gesture is all it takes to make you happy again when all you ever wanted was him.

You deserve better, a better ring, a better fiancé.

Minho whimpers slightly, tears clouding his dilated eyes. He doesn't blink them away, he just stares at the ring as if it led to all of his mishaps.

He designs a ring in his mind, one that isn't just a band with an expensive diamond stuck to it, one with meaning, with designs that capture you and him. He imagines giving it to you on the anniversary of when you agreed to be his girlfriend, under twinkling stars and surrounded by fireflies, on the hill he took you to have a chilly night picnic. You would scream yes and he would almost roll down the hill in full excitement.

Instead he proposed in your bedroom while you were getting ready for bed. You still cried, you still smiled so happily and kissed him in fervor. He knows that no matter what, you would be grateful, but he beats himself up for not even making an effort.

And now you're slipping away...

You emerge from the bedroom, still with bloodshot eyes, but no longer hiccuping sobs. "Lino, still didn't eat, honey?" You scratch under his ear, and only then did he close his eyes to lean in to your touch.

Minho looks up at you, "I love you, Y/N..." He mutters the most heartfelt meows you've ever heard from a cat. It's a shame you can't understand him.

You sigh, seeing from the still full cat bowl that the cat did not really feel like eating. You slowly lift him off the counter, craddling him in your arms. "How about we just go to bed now and then you can have a big breakfast?"

He hums as he snuggles into your embrace, and you smile at how he seems to really understand you. His heart aches at how beautiful your heart is, how it's always been, because he feels as if he doesn't deserve to be in your arms.

You lay in bed, placing him on top of your chest. He loafs on you, and you both quietly stare at each other.

"Tomorrow, we're gonna go to my mom's house. And we're gonna stay there for a while..." He sees a packed suitcase placed by the closet, the closet just open enough for him to see the lack of your clothes in there.

He also notices the missing items around the room that you would normally keep in there own places. Other than your presence, you completly wiped the room of you.

"Don't go..." He gently meows at you, eyes once again filling with tears.

"Are you crying, honey?" You asked worriedly, knowing you're not getting a response. "Why are your eyes so sad, my sweet kitty?" You pet him gently, heart aching at the sight of the glossy eyed cat.

"Don't leave me..."

You think that maybe he's attched to your home and he doesn't want to leave. "It's okay, honey, you'll always be with me."

"I should've been... I should always be with you..."

His meows sounded like painful whispers, eluding to a feeling you can't quite understand from him. You press a kiss on his nose, comforting the seemingly distressed cat.

Thundet roars outside, and a flash of light appears to blind the entire room.

"Don't leave me..."

You breathe heavily, your eyes wide.

"Minho?"

Lino the cat was gone and suddenly it was Minho on top of you, legs in between yours while his face hides in the crook of your neck. You feel his tears warm on your skin as he exhales sobs against you.

He expects you to push him off, to berate him and leave right now, he clings on tightly just in case.

But instead, he feels one hand brushing through his hair and another soothing his back. "There there, my love, it's okay..."

And because it's you saying it, he believes it.

...

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"The lightning turned me into a cat and I was trying to tell you for two weeks but you couldn't understand me." Minho was tucked under the blanket after changing from his suit to his nightwear, looking at you with boba eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed.

"So you're Lino?" He nods at your question.

Your heart drops, he has seen you moping and hurting and even breaking down. "That's why you weren't answering my calls?" He nods again.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..." He lifts his hand from beneath the blanket to hold your hand. "Not just about these two weeks, but every single day I made you feel neglected. We promised each other that we'd always be there, and I got so used to you always being here when I come home, I forgot to be here for you when I am home. I was consumed by work, by always trying to be on top, but I forgot that all of this... was for us, for my dream future with you."

Tears stain both of your cheeks, and though Minho was never fond of talking about feelings or getting too serious, he finds that talking to you and you finally understanding him was a huge privilege.

"Minho... I dreamed everyday of our future, and I can't imagine myself still being here while you work yourself to death and-"

"I know, and I won't do that, not anymore. Not when my favorite person is always home waiting for me. I can't imagine a future without you, Y/N, you're all I've ever loved about life..." He sits up, caressing your hand with both of his, feeling your fingers.

"I-I'm sorry I took off the ring, Minho..."

"No... I should be sorry, for giving you a crappy ring in a crappy proposal..." He sighs, remembering the lack of thought in a supposedly meaningful event.

"I was crying happy tears that night..."

"But you deserve better, and I need to deserve you again, if you would have me."

You smile slightly. "I want to have you... but maybe not with a ring right now..."

He nods frantically. "I'll take that, besides, I need more months to plan my next proposal." You giggled as he wipes away the last of your tears. "For now... let me focus on spending more time with you, like we used to.

"I'd like that..." You reply, right as he stomach grumbles, signaling his hunger. "I told you to eat, Lino."

Minho chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Can we eat now?"

You hum, leading him out of the bed and into the kitchen.

What you didn't expect was a tuxedo cat on your kitchen counter, the engagement ring in its mouth as it looks surprised at you two.

It hurried to escape through the slightly ajar back door. "What was that?" You stood in shock, looking at the window to see that the cat has jumped the fence.

"Maybe it was for the best. I already have a ring idea in my mind, anyway."

Seven months later, he brought you to the hill, just as he imagined, got down on one knee and proposed to you with a ring with diamonds placed in the shape of a cat's paw.

And it took another five months to plan the wedding because it turns out he was a lot more particular than you were gonna be.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Taglists (SFW): @bleuuujpg @seungpuppymongmong @princesskrystix @aquariusscollection @chims-dimple @norabugz @diekleinesuesse @like-diamondsinthesky @isadd666 @btch8008s @geni-627 @purplelady85 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @chanchansgirly @emilyywhyy @veronica123

[kedreeva]

I don't think I ever announced them, but back in early May, I acquired two breeding pairs of texel angora tricolor/splash mice from a VERY questionable source at a bird swap in another state. The mice were being sold in a 10g aquarium, multiple males in together with fight wounds abounding, including every single mouse with portions of tails chewed off, the amputation sites still raw. There were does mixed in that were almost certainly pregnant, going to people who may or may not know it. I certainly wasn't warned when I picked mine out, either that males can't be housed together or that the girls might be pregnant. Honestly I'm not sure the person thought there were girls in there, as they're so fluffy it might be hard to tell.

But, there's no one I know of in Michigan that breeds them, and I would rather be the one people come to if they want them, than to somehow find this person.

The adults aren't great, but they aren't the worst. Skittish but able to be held without immediately suicide jumping off my hands and not aggressive biters. I haven't had any tails rattled at me yet. They were quarantined for 30 days in another area of the house, and proactively treated for coccidia, mites, and worms just in case. So far they all seem quite healthy at least.

The babies are atrocious, temperament-wise, which makes me wonder if the breeder was handling the mice to get them used to it, because she certainly wasn't breeding for temperament. I've already euthanized one extra male for jumping so far out of the bin when I opened it that he landed on the floor, and then bit me and held on when I picked him up again. The others aren't quite as bad, but are still considerably fearful, dashing around frantically when the cage is opened. The girl pictured above would kill me if she could, I think. They're worse even than your average pet store mouse! I feel like you have to try really hard to get mice that suck this bad for personality, and the ethics of passing them off as pet quality is questionable at best. They do have going for them that they're pretty good texels, with good strong curling. Even the adults look pretty good still, and texels often lose the wavy fur as they age. I suspect that the breeder was too focused on that aspect to the exclusion of everything else.

Which all means that it's probably going to be a long road before I can actually offer any of them up for sale as pets. The good news is that both does have dropped litters and weaned them successfully (the photo is one of the daughters), and one dropped a second litter despite being solo-housed in a maternity bin (mice have a weird y-shaped uterus that they can use to delay implantation, so you can have back to back litters sometimes even without adding a male again!) so the other thing they have going for them is that they don't suck as parents.

I'm hoping to take a little shortcut and cross an extra male over some self black does, since they're a very stable line (good temperament, big litters, good moms, good size) and shouldn't add anything weird to the pot. If I can land even halfway between the two on temperament it will cut half a year or more off the work.

To make space for this, and keep things manageable, I've chosen to reduce my breeding colony back down to just tricolor, a few seal point Siamese, and a single self black trio. Some really cool project does should be available by the beginning of next month, once I'm sure they're not going to drop litters on anyone. I've also put an extra 1.1 pair in the hands of my friend, to preserve the genetics in case of disaster here.

I'm really very excited to be able to have tricolor and texel tricolor, even if the start was not illustrious.

[yumiblaze]

Cursed - Saja Boys X Fem!Reader Part 7

Hey guys I want to let everyone know I officially have reached the maximum amount of people I can tag so if anyone else wants to follow the story I post almost daily (And mostly just chapters of the story) so best just to follow me or check in everyday

PROLOGUE / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 / PART 6

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was slightly awkward when Mystery came back into the room with a glass of water and Baby was still hugging you and crying like… well a baby. The mint haired boy did quickly wipe his tears and act like he didn’t cry once he realised you were no longer alone. He then left the room in a rushed manner mumbling to Mystery about not telling anyone about this on the way past.

Mystery just shrugged and brought the glass of water to you with a small smile.

“Thank you Myst.” You said using a shortened version of his name.

“Myst?” The boy repeated titling his head to one side. You giggled at how cute he looked with his head tilted like that.

“It’s a nickname for you, do you like it?”

“Yes but you’re the only one allowed to use it.” The boy replied taking one of your hands in his bigger warmer ones. As you sipped at you water you watched the purple haired boy gently play with your fingers. He seemed completely contented with your one hand, wiggling each finger and feeling how smooth your palm was.

You finally took a proper look at the room you were in. It was a lilac coloured room with a bookcase in one corner filled with all kinds of literature. The bed you were in was a double and the bed covers had a picture of a beautiful sakura tree covering them. Pulling them closer to yourself you could faintly smell the scent of lavender. The only other thing in the room was a small wooden side table with a simple lamp on it. It was a nice room and you started to ponder if it was a spare room or if you had stolen someone else’s bed.

You were also wearing someone else’s oversized t-shirt, probably because all your clothes were drenched in blood. It made you blush when you realised that meant not only had someone let you borrow their own cloths but that at least one of them had changed your cloths while you were unconscious.

It wasn’t too long before you heard the front door being unlocked. You didn’t think too much of it until Mystery put your hand down and stood away from the bed, uncomfortably crossing his arms over his chest. You put down your water on the side table and frowned not quite sure what to expect.

You quickly realised who was in the apartment as soon as you heard a symphony of rushed footsteps getting louder. The door burst open and three familiar girl ran over to you.

“Oh my god (y/n)! Thank god you’re okay!” Rumi practically yelled hugging you tightly.

“I was so worried about you!” Zoey sobbed hugging you as well.

“I swear I will find whatever did this to you and kill it.” Mira promised grabbing onto your hands.

You weakly smiled trying to hug your girls back. Your eyes flicked over to the door, Jinu leaning against the doorframe and giving you a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all.” You told them as they started to calm down.

“Did it hurt a lot? You need to describe them to us so we can find them! Did the nasty demon boys treat you nice enough? Did they feed you? Do you need anything?” Zoey asked one hand on your shoulder and the other gently cradling your cheek.

“It hurt but the boys were really good and they did an amazing job looking after me.” You answered truthfully.

“Don’t think this changes anything.” Mira told Jinu glaring over at him. “As soon as we get (y/n) out of here the truce is over and we go back to being enemies.”

“I know.” Jinu replied coldly.

“Though I wonder if she should even be leaving.” Baby spoke up suddenly strolling into the room, his chill laid back personality back.

“What do you mean?” Rumi asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Well this is the second time we’ve had to save (y/n), not to mention the amount of demons we’ve caught sniffing around your apartment while you guys were out and sweet little (y/n) was all alone.” The mint haired boy explained looking at your sister with bored blue eyes. “You didn’t even catch a couple of us sneaking into your apartment on multiple occasions.”

“You’ve snuck into our home?” Mira asked angrily.

“Only to protect what you’ve forgotten to.” Baby snapped back.

“Stop it.” You told Baby, not wanting everyone to argue.

Baby looked like he wanted to say more but after looking at your serious face he sighed and decided to look through his phone instead. Everyone was quiet for a few moments not really knowing what to say.

“Why did you save her though?” Rumi eventually asked looking from Baby to Mystery and finally to Jinu.

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Jinu replied.

“Yeah right, I bet you were just doing this to make us softer on you.” Zoey scoffed holding you protectively against her chest. “One good deed doesn’t change the fact that you’re a disgusting demon!”

You noticed your sister flinch as Zoey finished her sentence. You remember what Baby and Mystery had said about her, her reaction told you that it was definitely true. You wanted to ask her about why she was lying but you didn’t want to out her right now, as much as you were hurt she didn’t tell you.

“Can you walk?” Mira asked you uncovering you.

“She shouldn’t.” Mystery said quietly. “She needs rest.”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Mira replied glaring at the quiet boy.

Mystery didn’t verbally reply but you could hear him growling like a dog that was seconds away from snapping at someone.

“Mystery’s right she can’t walk home yet.” Rumi admitted pulling up your borrowed shirt and looking at the mass of bloody bandages wrapped around your abdomen.

“Oh my god my poor little (y/n)!” Zoey fussed her eye brimming with tears again. Even Mira seemed to grimace when she saw the bandages.

“We can’t just let her stay here.” Mira stated.

“Why not?” Baby chirped with a smirk. “We can look after her.”

“Ew.” Zoey whispered shielding you from the boy.

“Can we speak about this outside for a moment?” Mira asked Rumi and Zoey, who nodded in reply.

“Be right back sis.” Rumi assured you giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

You watched the three girls leave the room before Jinu approached you.

“You feeling better princess?” He asked you brushing some hair from your face. You nodded, smiling softly. “Good but you better realise we’re never letting you out of our sights again.” He told you gently cupping your face with his warm hand.

“Maybe I don’t want to ever be out of your sights again.” You replied leaning into his touch.

“Does that mean we can watch you shower?” Baby asked suddenly making you and Jinu both turn red.

“Baby!” You cried glaring at him, your face still red. The boy smirked at you, amused by your reaction.

“So is that a yes?” The boy pushed, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Baby I swear if you don’t shut up I’m going to break your damn phone!” Jinu hissed covering his red face with one hand.

@ffcfffr @whimsiecat @gremlinartstudio @chugjugg @aerissblog @kitkatpattywack2808 @airwolf92 @fries11 @doggyteam2028 @downbadgirlypoo @kashasenpai @seung185 @faefanatic @izzieg3987 @lansy-4 @weponxwrites @bunniotomia @chaoticfivesworld @clmstorm @sra7riddle-malfoy @vi1326 @justanotherkpopstanlol @jaeyuuns @tikitsune @zzsloth @yumi-does-stuff @ghost-reine @yuurisfavblog @dragongirl642 @just-a-blue-nerd @snowy-violet @justanindiangirl12 @sexually-attracted-to-pans @minthoneynbasil @tatsuri-zomushiki @ellie-x0xo @olxh @satansdaughter123 @reallysparklychaos @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @lostsomewhereinthegarden @avadakadabra93 @szc56 @phoenixflying666 @l0wlifepr1ncess @reverie-sxno @fantasyhopperhea @bakusquadobsessed @adorablepandasuniverse @sad-sie

[chimielie]

cw: f!reader, children, pregnancy talk, i'm having some sort of episode

Atsumu never really wanted kids.

He didn’t dislike them—not after he got over his thirteen-year-old aversion to babysitting—but he didn’t spend a lot of time fantasizing about having a family, either.

Whenever someone asked “where do you see yourself in ten years?” the answer was always on the volleyball court.

That answer evolved, of course: at fifteen, he would’ve envisioned himself going pro, his twin at his side. At twenty-one, he was chasing an Olympic medal, trying to keep up with the monster talent he had burst into. At twenty-eight, his legs kept moving, but his horizon had expanded.

By then, he had bought his mom a house. He'd made a home, just as flashy as the media might have expected and somehow more comfortable than his friends had. He'd found you, one of the most important milestones in his life, and it was your home as much as it was his.

(That had been just like him, too. He'd met you and proposed six months later, a stupid, brash, impulsive twenty-three year old, but lucky for him you were stupid in love. Enough to say yes, which was all he needed, and even though his family had tried to warn you away, here you were, still kicking it with him and babysitting his brother's kids.)

The tree in the front was your idea, an old dream realized of letting the kids on the block climb all over it. The first thing Atsumu had done after moving in was hang a tire from that maple, putting his hands on his hips and relishing the weight of you leaning against him as the two of you admired his finished work.

Watching that swing hold the weight of Osamu's youngest, too little for school like his older siblings and frequenting your home while his parents worked, you assumed the same position. Atsumu stood by the tree, hands on his hips, ready to catch Teppei like he was expecting to receive a stray serve. Your head was on his shoulder, eyes half-closed as you watched with him.

"Atsumu," you said softly, quiet so that your nephew wouldn't hear. "Don't you think he looks kind of lonely?"

"Eh?" Your husband bumped his head against yours. "He entertains himself, no? And Yuki-chan and her sister from down the street should be home soon."

Teppei was entertaining himself, mumbling secret things only he could understand in his three-year old language as the tire swayed him through the air.

"No," you laughed at him, "I mean—I know we said we weren't planning for kids, but—I don't know, I get so sad when we have to give him back." You sighed wistfully, a sound that never failed to trigger some instinct in Atsumu to give you whatever you wanted immediately.

"You want one?" He slid an arm around your waist, distracted from his paternal watch. "A baby?"

"Yeah, a kid," you said, "you know, I think sometimes about one with your eyes. And getting to teach them about nature, and how to read, and maybe we could take them to the Games when they're old enough? There's a good beginner's volleyball camp around here, I'm sure. We should probably start researching universities—"

"Whoa," he said, startled. "Careful, you're gonna give me empty nest sydrome before I've even knocked you up."

You grinned at him, raising your head a little to brush your lips against his cheek.

"'Samu's gonna say this was such a bad idea," you laughed, ducking your face into his neck like you were shy after four years of marriage. "His worst nightmare is more of you."

"I raised that little twerp," he grumbled, sliding his hand down and cupping your ass. He could see it, being annoying at the playground, the two of you still honeymooning while the kid with your hair beat up the other brats. "He can't talk shit, he had fuckin' accident babies."

"We're gonna have to clean up our vocabulary," you grumble. "Plus, you're only three minutes older than him and I know you were never more mature."

"Don't talk to me like that," he said, watching Teppei spin in circles and letting go of you to stride over and lift his nephew off the swing. On the horizon, he sees himself on the volleyball court, a jacket with the word Coach stamped on the back, a bunch of ankle-biters swarming him. "Hey, kiddo, you're gonna make yourself sick. Looks like the neighbors are back, d'you wanna go play with them?"

As he hustled the toddler off towards the other children, Atsumu looked back at you.

"You sure about this? Y'know it's gonna be twins, right?"

You looked at the little hand in your husband's big one, fingers taped, one wrist slightly bent from falling out of a tree when he was eight.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

[johannasdeviant]

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴍᴀɴ ᯓ★ part 1

ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ / 4.5ᴋ

.✦── ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴡʟʏ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄᴏ-ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇ? ── .✦

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙨/ 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙞𝙨, 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙞, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧-𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝗮𝘄𝗸𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗼𝗺-𝗰𝗼𝗺 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗲𝘀??, 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗸𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝗶𝘀, 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

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You really shouldn’t be so smug about Lois and Clark’s breakup, especially considering how brief their relationship was. You shouldn’t… but here you are, thinking of ways to start a conversation with your freshly single and undeniably fit co-worker.

Yes, he was a bit clumsy and awkward, traits you’d normally label as weaponised incompetence and steer well clear of. But with a face like his? You’d let him get away with far worse.

Clark Kent, in his usual blissful oblivion, probably wouldn’t even notice. Still, you spritzed on your most expensive perfume the one you reserve for dates where you’re almost certain you’ll end up in someone’s bed. You followed a “no makeup makeup” tutorial you found on TikTok, hoping to hide your very obvious desperation behind something that looked effortless. And you wore a skirt just a touch shorter than usual, short enough to be noticed, but not short enough to land you in HR’s inbox.

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You were a good journalist—damn good, actually and an even better writer. So, asking Clark for help on your article about the rise of anti-intellectualism was, admittedly, not the most convincing lie. But it was just believable enough for Clark, who would never even consider a colleague lying to him. One of his very few flaws, really. The man was far too trusting for his own good.

“I’m very happy to help,” Clark said, offering a shy smile. “But what exactly do you need my help with?” He looked genuinely confused probably because you hadn’t actually explained why you needed him, specifically.

He was sitting across from you, slouched slightly in the chair, all long limbs and broad shoulders trying to fold themselves into something smaller. God, he was so big, and yet always tried to make himself less. His fingers fidgeted with a pen he’d grabbed mid-sentence, a nervous habit you hadn’t noticed before but immediately stored in your mental archive of things that made you fall deeper in love with Clark Kent.

“I just needed someone to read over it—get a second opinion,” you replied, cringing inwardly at the transparent lie, hoping to God he wouldn’t catch on that you were really just looking for an excuse to talk to him.

“Oh, um, of course sure. Give it to me, I’ll look over it on my lunch break,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Never mind that his lunch break was unpaid, or that he could probably spend it doing something far more useful than proofreading an article that had already been edited to death.

Goddamn this man. He couldn’t be serious.

You should’ve felt bad. You did feel bad. You were a terrible, selfish person interrupting this man’s one pocket of peace in the day.All for your own ridiculous crush. Especially since the article had already been proofread seven times and was, objectively, ready to go. Not that you’d ever hand over anything short of perfection to your potential future lover. Your ego wouldn’t allow it. Then again, apparently your ego also wasn’t too big to stop you from lying straight to his sweet, trusting face.

“Oh, Clark, you really don’t need to do this,” you said, guilt creeping into your voice. “You should take your break. Read it whenever you’ve got time—it’s honestly no rush. I’ve got two other pieces ready to go before this one anyway.”

You smiled, guilty and sheepish. He smiled back, clueless as ever.

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You usually didn’t bother going out for lunch. A Red Bull and a cigarette were enough to suppress your appetite most days…maybe a granola bar if you were really starving. But you also had a nasty habit of stress eating in stressful situations, and today? Your guilt was practically biting at your insides.

You thought of Lois. Would she have done something like this? Probably not. But then again, she and Clark didn’t exactly work out, so maybe her judgement wasn’t the gold standard you should be following.

So, in a moment of weakness you found yourself at that bagel place everyone in the office had been talking about for months. The one creating abhorrent shit like ‘Labubu Dubai Chocolate Banana Bagel’. Consumerism it seemed, truly had no boundaries.

As you stood in front of the aggressively whimsical menu board, squinting at names that felt more like jokes than food descriptions, you spotted him.

Clark.

Of course.

Luck finally was on your side.

You felt like a teenager again, catching sight of your crush walking the school corridors. It was ridiculous, honestly. You were so down bad. ‘Get it together,’ you told yourself, playing with your hair in an attempt to casually fix it without looking like you were trying.

Then his eyes met yours.

Oh no.

He definitely saw you. He probably thought you were stalking him. Ridiculous. You hadn’t even known he came here. How could you? You two barely even spoke outside of awkward work conversations.

And yet here he was, standing just metres away. And here you were, silently begging the universe not to make this any more embarrassing than it already was.

As you saw him walking towards you,far too quickly for comfort, thanks to his ridiculous height and those long legs you scrambled to think of anything to say. Anything that didn’t make you sound intellectually inept. Just… anything.

“Hey Clark, what are you doing here?”

What are you doing here? Seriously? Your ability to make yourself cringe was becoming truly impressive.

“Oh, um, you know… people at the office have been talking about this place, and it sounded cool, so I came to try one of their bagels. And I don’t have your impressively long article to proofread, so I thought,why not now?” he said with a chuckle, oddly relaxed for once. Not a trace of his usual awkwardness. In fact, he was making you look like the socially inept one.

“Yeah?” you replied, eyes drifting to the dimple in his cheek. God, he really did look like some kind of Greek god. It made you want him to have his way with you right there in the middle of the bagel shop.

No. You couldn’t be thinking like some primal, lust driven creature. Pull it together.

Because it wasn’t just lust, not really. You noticed the small things. Like how he walked slowly and carefully around pigeons so he wouldn’t scare them. How he always watered Jimmy’s plants when Jimmy forgot, every damn time. How he never once came back from his lunch break without bringing you coffee, knowing full well you never went out to eat. And he always got your ridiculously long order right: Big iced brown sugar shaken espresso with almond milk, sugar-free vanilla syrup, and light ice.

You didn’t even notice yourself zoning out.

“Hey, are you okay?” Clark asked, concern softening his features.

“Yes sorry, I, um I was lost in my thoughts. Work thoughts. You know me, a true workaholic,” you said, trying to play it off with a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, grinning. “I really don’t know what to order…are these words even real or just made up.”

He laughed. The kind of sound you wanted to hear for the rest of your life.

“So,” he continued with a playful smirk, “what’s the usual order our top journalist’s getting?”

What has gotten into Clark? This sudden confidence was completely unexpected, but you weren’t about to complain. Someone had to keep the conversation going.

“Do you really take me for someone who’s a regular at a place that sells ‘Labubu Dubai Chocolate Whatever’ bagels?” you asked, raising your eyebrows and returning his smirk. Thank God, your wit was finally catching up after that tragic characterisation of you.

“I’m getting a regular bagel. Extra cream cheese. Everything seasoning.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Clark pouted.

You stepped up to the cashier and began to order.

“The same,” Clark said casually from behind you.

“Oh? Didn’t you want to have some fun?” you shot back, the petty tone in your voice unmistakable though it somehow came out sounding flirtier than you intended.

Clark just rolled his eyes with a smile he clearly didn’t want you to see. Then, just as you were about to tap your card, he swiped his first in a flash so fast your eyes barely registered it.

You blinked. “You’re paying? So this is basically a date now?”

The words slipped out before your filter could catch them, your insecurity briefly overpowered by your increasingly desperate desire to end up in his bed. You really were going all in.

Clark went red almost immediately, his ridiculously perfect face flushing with something between panic and delight.

“Um” he started, but you were already beginning to regret being so bold.

Then he gathered himself. “Would you… want it to be a date?”

Oh.

Oh, this was good. He wasn’t backing away, he was just shy. Your heart thudded in your chest.

“What if I said yes?” you asked, your voice smaller now, as your fingers moved anxiously to pick at your cuticles.

You were being a mess. But if not for Clark Kent, then for whom? Who else could ever deserve this kind of desperation?

He gently took your hand in his, stilling your fingers before they could turn your nerves into a bloody mess.

“I’d say you deserve a proper date,” he said softly. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

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You were losing your mind, standing in your apartment, trying on your fourth outfit of the evening.

Everything looked so much better in your head. Nothing was working. You didn’t even know what exactly you were going for. Cute, someone he could actually picture dating? Or maybe sexy, something to ensure the night ended successfully? Or should you go with cool girl—whatever that even meant. You immediately cringed, remembering the “cool girl” monologue from Gone Girl. Yeah, maybe not that.

You wondered if Clark was freaking out about what to wear right now too. Probably not. That man practically lived in his polite, boring grey suit.

After trying on three outfits and hating them all, you ended up going with the first one you’d tried on. A very short navy-and-brown checkered pencil skirt, black tights with grey leg warmers, your vintage brown knee-high boots, a simple navy blue shirt, and your oversized brown leather jacket. Makeup slightly heavier than your usual office face. Brown Stella McCartney bag slung over your shoulder.

You actually looked… pretty good.

Clark, ever the gentleman, was picking you up. He’d been waiting outside for at least fifteen minutes now without sending a single passive aggressive text or a “ready yet?” . Of course not. That wasn’t his style.

Still, you rushed down to avoid keeping him waiting any longer.

And when you finally spotted him outside, standing next to his car you were pleasantly shocked.

No grey suit in sight.

Instead, he wore navy trousers and a white button-up perfectly fitted. Not tight enough to seem like he was trying too hard, but just cling enough to make it impossible to ignore his frame. You’d seen Clark in dozens of shirts. Somehow, this one managed to be… devastating.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” you said with an awkward, downturned smile, completely unaware of how cute he found it.

He didn’t answer immediately. He was just looking at you.

“You look absolutely stunning… wow,” he finally said, his voice genuinely breathless.

That made you smile wider than you meant to. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Kent,” you replied, and that was enough to make him blush.

He opened the car door for you.

Of course he did.

His car was spotless,clean and polished, like everything else about him. One of your favourite David Bowie songs played softly through the speakers, low enough that you could still talk easily. God, was this man considerate.

“So,” you said, shifting slightly to get comfortable without slouching, “where exactly are we going?”

“That’s a surprise,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye.

And all you could do was sit there and quietly stare at the way his arms looked flexed as he gripped the wheel.

Even just driving, this man looked absurdly sexy.

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Clark was trying his best to hide how nervous he was.

You probably expected a nice restaurant. Candlelight, maybe. Something fancy. It wasn’t too late, he could still reroute, pick a place uptown, order wine, pretend he wasn’t completely out of his depth.

He wasn’t cheap. Sure, working at the Daily Planet didn’t exactly make him rich, but he earned enough to take someone like you out for a nice dinner.

But he kept thinking about Smallville. About how much he used to love picnics. Simple, peaceful, heartfelt. Maybe you would too. He’d even called his momma earlier that afternoon to ask for her recipes. Her famous iced tea, the crispy fried chicken he loved and her key lime pie that tastes like heaven.

This mattered to him. He wanted it to feel personal.

He could also hear the way your heart rate had started ticking up the moment you sat in his car. Getting faster, minute by minute. And as much as he tried not to focus on it, he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.

You were just as nervous as he was.

Though he didn’t quite understand why. To him, you were way out of his league. You were sharp, witty, intimidating in the best way and gorgeous. He’d always wondered why someone like you didn’t already have a boyfriend. Surely he couldn’t be the only man on Earth with both eyes and a brain.

And yet here you were.

You’d always been kind to him, even when others overlooked him. He remembered how you used to cover for him when he disappeared mid-shift off saving the world, though you had no idea. You never asked questions, just quietly helped him.

You making the first move? That had been a blessing. Because he wasn’t sure he’d have had the courage, not after everything that happened with Lois.

“I should probably tell you,” you said without making any eye contact, “that I’m not very fond of surprises. For next time.”

Next time.

Clark latched onto the words instantly. You hated surprises he’d definitely remember that. But more importantly, you were already thinking about a next time. That was… very good.

He turned to tell you he’d taken note, but before he could even open his mouth, your voice came through, stern and sharp.

“Eyes on the road, Kent.”

Then, almost under your breath, you added, “I expected better from you.”

Clark laughed, caught completely off guard. His eyes flicked straight back to the street as he grinned to himself.

“I read your article, by the way,” he said after a moment, letting the warmth return to his voice. “Let me tell you—you don’t need my help, sweetheart. Next time, I’m coming to you for proofreading.”

Your whole face lit up at that, an automatic, touched “Aww, thank you, ” escaping your lips followed by an unconscious scrunch of your nose that very nearly killed him.

You were truly the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

Eventually, he pulled the car into a quiet area on the outskirts of Metropolis one he hoped would stay relatively unknown, tucked away. The park was lush and green, filled with wild, blooming flowers and shaded by trees tall enough to drown out the skyline. There was even a tucked-away path that led to a smaller clearing, with a marble fountain at its centre where birds often gathered to chirp and bathe.

It looked like something out of a postcard. He really, really hoped you’d like it.

Clark got out of the car, circled around, and opened the door for you. Then, without a word, he reached into the back seat and lifted out the picnic basket one he’d spent his entire Saturday preparing.

The moment your eyes landed on the scene, your expression softened completely. That look alone made all the effort worth it.

“I hope you’re not allergic to pollen—” he began.

“I love it,” you cut in, already smiling. “It’s Perfect! Really.”

Clark continued setting up the picnic, carefully laying out the checkered blanket, arranging the containers of food. But then a flicker of memory passed through his mind—picnic dates with Lois. He blinked it away.

No. He wasn’t going to be that guy. The kind of man who used one woman to forget another. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t built like that.

Maybe he should’ve waited a little longer before asking you out. Given things more time. He didn’t want to mess this up—not just because you were a kind woman who deserved honesty, but also because you worked together. If this ended badly, he’d be sitting between two women he’d disappointed. That thought alone made his stomach twist.

But more than anything… Clark Kent really liked you. And he wanted this to go right.

You both sat down on the blanket, and he noticed you shifting awkwardly, subtly adjusting your posture in a way that made him realise—ah. You were wearing a skirt. Maybe he should’ve told you this was a picnic. He filed that away under things to do better next time.

“Did you make all this yourself?” you asked, clearly impressed.

Clark smiled, though he didn’t think it was anything too grand. “Yeah, all my mum’s recipes too—especially the fried chicken. I mean, it’s nowhere near as good as hers, but I gave it my best shot.”

You nodded, but the look on your face was… complicated. There was something just a little too bright about your smile. A little too practiced. And then came the tiniest piece of chicken he’d ever seen pinched between your fingers, followed by an even smaller bite.

“It’s so good,” you said quickly. “I love it.”

Clark tilted his head slightly. Your pulse had just spiked, he didn’t need his powers to know that was a lie. Your face said it all anyway. You were a terrible liar.

He bit back a smile.

Rather than call you out on it, he let it slide and shifted the conversation instead.

“So,” he began, “what does our top journalist get up to when she’s not making me proofread her articles during my break?”

He followed it up with a dramatic little sigh and a mock “poor me,” which made you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic! You offered and I also declined”

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You couldn’t believe yourself. Really—this was where you drew the line? Years of strong, principled living thrown out the window… for a man with kind eyes and annoyingly perfect smile. You were genuinely about to risk gastrointestinal ruin just to spare Clark Kent’s feelings.

He had probably spent hours on that chicken. He didn’t know—how would he? You never ate at work, and the topic of your ten-year vegetarianism had simply never come up.

The logical part of your brain was telling you: Just thank him and tell him the truth, tell him you don’t eat meat. But then there was the other part of you, the part with no backbone and with overactive people pleasing tendencies —that won. And now you’d eaten something your body would probably reject later tonight.

Lying was starting to become a concerning habit.

Clark, unaware of the moral and gastrointestinal crisis unfolding beside him, turned to you with an easy smile. “So, tell me about yourself,” he said.

This… might’ve been the right moment to mention the whole vegetarian thing. But no. You feared it would only make you look even more unhinged. Like a liar and a lunatic.

You were an interesting person or at least you liked to think so. But whenever someone asked you that question, your brain seemed to go blank.

“Um… I like to read,” you started, trying not to wince at your own underwhelming answer.

“Classics and comics, mostly classics,” you added quickly, searching for something that sounded less dead behind the eyes. “I used to figure skate when I was younger like, seriously. Competitions and everything. Don’t really have time for it anymore except maybe around Christmas.”

You paused, then remembered the one thing that actually mattered to you. “And I volunteer at a homeless shelter most weekends. Saturdays, sometimes Sundays too. Work eats most of my time, but that’s kind of my constant.”

Clark turned to you with real interest. “You work at a homeless shelter? I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a bit shy now under his gaze. “I’ve been doing it for a few years. It feels good to feel useful, contribute to something good, however little it may seem.You know,journalism’s great, but there’s a certain kind of helplessness that comes with constantly hearing about the worst of humanity.”

“So what about you ?” you quickly asked. “I don’t think you’re nearly as ordinary as people like to think.”

He gave you a soft smile, shaking his head. “You might be wrong there. I’m honestly not all that interesting. I write, even in my free time. Go to the occasional baseball game.Do some gardening. Watch a lot of sci-fi.”

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t have to be Superman to be interesting.”

Clark then laughed, an actual, proper laugh. Not a chuckle or a shy smile, but a deep laugh that made your stomach flutter . You’d never heard that sound from him before, and now that you had, you already wanted to hear it again. His voice was deep and rich, but never intimidating. More like the vocal equivalent of a warm blanket.

He looked at you, then said softly, “Can I tell you something?”

You blinked, suddenly feeling a little caught off guard. “Yeah, of course.”

“I had no idea you, um… had any interest in me,” he admitted, eyes a little wide.

You looked at him then, really looked. The strong line of his jaw, his warm, impossibly blue eyes, the slight wave in his hair, the curve of his mouth. His broad chest under that crisp white shirt, the sleeves just rolled up enough to make your stomach feel weird. His hands, large and gentle. Everything about him made your thoughts dangerously hazy.

It was still genuinely baffling to you—how could someone like Clark Kent, with that face and that heart, ever doubt that he was wanted?

“Why wouldn’t I be interested, Clark?” you said, your voice quiet but steady, eyes meeting his and holding.

His expression shifted, and you swore you saw his entire chest rise and fall just a bit more heavily.

He wasn’t ordinary. Not even close.

“I don’t know…” he then whispered, eyes drifting downward, a flicker of sadness clouding blue eyes behind his glasses.

And just like that, things turned cold. You hadn’t expected things to take such a turn, so quickly, everything had been going so well. Predictable, maybe, but good. Comfortable. Sweet. Now it felt as though you’d hit a nerve you hadn’t even known was there.

Lois. Was it about Lois?

Was that it? Had your compliment unknowingly pulled at an old scar reminded him of why that ended? Of who she was, and who you weren’t?

The silence made your guilt begin to rise up in your chest.

“I lied,”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “What? Lied about what?”

You exhaled, eyes stinging. The words came out, too fast to stop. “I only said I needed help with your proofreading because I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t know how else to start a conversation and it was stupid and dishonest and I’m sorry. I—I really like you, and I panicked. And then tonight—I ate chicken even though I’ve been vegetarian for ten years just to not hurt your feelings, and now I’m just spiralling and embarrassing myself and honestly you’re probably thinking I’m some unstable, unhinged, lying lunatic and—fuck, if I were you, I’d walk out right now—”

You felt a tear slide down your cheek.

But Clark reached over and gently stopped your rambling, his hand warm and steady as he wiped the tear away.

“Hey,” he said softly, coaxing your gaze back to his. “Shhh. Don’t cry. I would never walk out on a date. And… believe me, I’ve had worse.”

He was trying to make light of the moment, maybe hoping to draw out a laugh from you, but all you could do was stare at him, heart still racing.

“I won’t lie,” he continued, brushing another tear off your cheek, “I don’t love being lied to. But… I’m also incredibly flattered. You’re sweet and smart and you could’ve walked up to me and talked about the weather, and I’d have stood there listening for as long as you wanted. Probably would’ve followed you around the office after.”

That did make you feel a bit better.

Maybe it was the way his fingers lingered on your skin, feather-light and comforting. Maybe it was his voice, calm and kind, grounding you. Or maybe it was just the overwhelming emotions, but before you could think twice, you leaned forward and kissed him.

It was soft at first. Hesitant. Unsure.

Clark didn’t move. For a second, he was still surprised, maybe. Uncertain. You pulled back, the regret rising again, your breath catching.

But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you toward him, and suddenly you were in his lap. His lips found yours in a kiss that was messy and searching.His hand cradled the back of your head like he was scared you might vanish. It wasn’t perfect, your mouths didn’t move in harmony just yet, not like people who’d kissed a hundred times. But it was intimate. Raw. Charged.

Another tear slid down your cheek, and this time Clark pressed a kiss there, slow and gentle.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise.”

After what felt like just a few seconds gone as quickly as it had come you pulled away, breathless, cheeks flushed. You slid back onto the blanket beside him, fixing your skirt and brushing down your tights with shaky hands. Your fingers instinctively reached up to wipe beneath your eyes, just in case you had any mascara under your eyes.

Clark, still slightly dazed, blinked a few times as if trying to ground himself.

“You ate the chicken… after being vegetarian for ten years?”

Watched Superman a few days ago and realised that Clark Kent is the only man ever! .𖥔 ݁ ˖💌

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

your kind of love drives a man insane

a clark kent that’s probably a little too old for you.. x virgin!reader

no minors allowed! 18 and up—that’s the rule. thanks.

you’ve had your eye on clark kent for awhile—and now you’re finally just old enough to do something about it.

warnings: barely any consumption of alcohol, problematic age gap, mouthy sub corrupting a soft dom, no condom, some roughness in bed if you’re nasty.. enjoy!

“sweet little thing like you..” he smiles, shaking his head. “tryin’ to get with something like me.” 

“you think i’m sweet?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. 

“i’m old enough to be your father.” his tone’s gruff, like he’s hoping to scare you off. it’s having the opposite effect. nonetheless, you’re playing a very delicate game.

“you say that like it’ll scare me away.”

this conversation’s been a long time coming. he’s been the subject of your under-the-covers dead-of-night fantasies since you were fifteen. boys your age have never been particularly..appealing, compared to clark kent. 

immature, loud, rude—why waste your time with someone like that? why not wait a couple years, exercise your patience? 

and all that waiting had finally paid off. here you were, with the town’s infamous blue-eyed bachelor. trying to persuade him into the spot between your legs.

he shakes his head, those deep blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“‘m not sure s’right, darling.” 

it almost makes you want to laugh, the way he’s trying to chase you away like he’s not visibly hard. 

this must be the first time in a long time he’s been propositioned. 

your mouth’s watering looking at him, framed by rough, worn denim. he looks big. 

he coughs, and you trail your eyes back up to his face. clark’s cheeks are pink, you didn’t realize how long your gaze had been trained on his crotch. 

“who said it had to be right, clark?” stepping closer has your dress swaying against your thighs, the airy fabric stretching over your hips. you swear it makes him gulp.

all bark, no bite.

he looks up, like he’s asking for help, before taking another swig of his beer. you take the chance to step even closer. 

you run a fingertip over his hardened length, causing him to sputter. 

“that looks like it hurts,” your voice barely above a whisper. “won’t you let me take care of it for you?”

it feels like ten years, the time that it takes for him to reply: he spends it with his gaze fixed on you, face a blank canvas covering up the internal battle. 

“c’mon.” he grunts out, kicking away from his stool. immediately he’s towering over you, your heartbeat responding with a stutter. you watch as he throws a bill on the counter, nodding to the bartender.

clark’s rough hand grabs yours, and the size difference almost has him digging his heels in and saying no.

almost, but not quite. 

you follow him out to his truck, your boots crunching through the gravel parking lot after his. 

“should i drive?” you pipe up, remembering how the hand that’s holding yours was holding a beer not even a minute ago. 

he chuckles, cutting you a glance. 

“i’m no teenage boy, gorgeous. wouldn’t be takin’ you anywhere if i was drunk.” 

you blush, nodding. he opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand to help you up. 

it’s a big truck for a big man—but it’s not one of those new ones, lifted ones. 

it’s old, red, rusted. looks like something he’d spent a couple of years fixing up. a shiver runs up your spine as you settle into the worn leather of his passenger seat. you’ve made it.

clark keeps his eyes on the road. for the most part. 

it’s bumpy, heading down to his farm—he just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting jostled too much. the pockmarked road did nothing but bounce your tits in his face. 

he’d hate to admit how much of a reaction having a pretty little thing like you in his truck was causing—but it was clear as day if you looked between his thighs. 

he’s gonna have to go about this very carefully. 

you don’t even get the chance to kick your cowboy boots off before he’s pushing you forward onto the mattress, the impact forcing a grunt from your chest. getting up on your elbows, you turn to see him unbuckling his belt, hastily shoving his jeans down, past his hips. the way his shirt’s riding up his stomach has you swallowing hard. 

“looked your fill?” he grumbles, eyes shifty. talks a big game, but you have him like a deer in headlights. 

“probably never,” you smirk, squinting. clark rolls his eyes at you, returning the expression. 

you almost gasp at the sudden chill on your backside as he yanks your dress up, muttering to himself about the panties you’re wearing. 

“hands.” he suddenly barks, and you put them behind your back. easily palming both of your wrists into one hand, he leans over you. 

“how’d y’know red’s my favorite color?” clark rasps into your ear, voice low, rough. 

“lucky guess,” you squeak out, squirming under his big body. 

“got quite the mouth on ya.” he remarks, and you feel his cock twitch against your hip. “do i need to do something about it, or are you gonna behave?” 

“gonna behave.” you nod against the mattress, murmuring. anticipation setting alight in your veins. 

“good.” he stands back up, his grip still firm on your wrists.”dunno how i didn’t see these through that white dress you’re wearin’.” 

clark snaps the waistband of your underwear, making you jump. 

“woulda taken you to the bar bathroom then and there.” 

the thought of him fucking you in the dingy water closet makes you moan involuntarily. he chuckles, smacking your ass. you squeak at his firm hand, and his cock throbs painfully. 

“we’ll have to do that next time, huh, sugar?” clark hums. 

you nod eagerly, arching your back to press your ass against him. 

“could we do somethin’ now?” you ask, eyebrows pushed together. the look on your face is so resolve-melting that clark almost folds. 

almost. 

“so impatient!” he says, a huge grin cracking onto his face. “guess you might hafta wait a little longer now, gorgeous.” 

pushing himself off of you, your hands still held tight in his grip, he eyes your pussy. his gaze is locked onto the growing dark spot on the gusset of your red panties. 

it makes him want to pant like a fucking dog. 

you’re like an oasis in the desert. a cool coca-cola after a long day chorin’. clark’s gonna eat you whole. 

your underwear are yanked off, clark taking special care to pull them over your matching red boots. they’re dropped to the floor, and the anticipation feels like a gun pointed at your head. unavoidable. a confirmed kill. 

he spits, and you watch it fall onto your core from over your shoulder. 

it’s a new sensation, but the fluids mixing between your thighs feels like heaven.

his knuckles brush against your folds, causing you to squirm. 

it’s a lot different when it’s not you. not your hands. 

his hand’s on you, his fingers playing with your clit. teasing you, flirting with it. seeing what you react the most to. this could be all he does for the night and you’d be satisfied. the sensation is so heightened, so brand new, you’re about to burst from this alone. 

clark gathers the combined slick and slides his middle finger into your entrance. 

the stretch is delicious, perfect. 

and then after a few pumps, he adds another. 

he presses you into the mattress as he hits your g-spot, kissing up the back of your thigh to where it meets the swell of your ass. 

it’s perfect, it’s saccharine, it’s a little slice of heaven in clark kent’s bedroom. 

you feel his breath on your clit, and then he’s on you. 

his tongue is searching, suckling at the protruding area until you’re whimpering. he curls his fingers inside of you, the feeling like no other as he laps at your clit.

it’s been hours, days, weeks. it feels like you’ve set up camp in his bedroom. so careful, so dutiful, as he pulls you right to the edge just to yank you back. 

he’s insatiable, he’s trying to keep from grinding against the bed frame so he lasts longer inside of you. 

the sounds you’re making might change that.

you’re as taut as a bowstring, toes curling, head thrown back. you let the arrow fly, and you’re shaking, muscles spasming as you finish on clark’s face. 

he hums in satisfaction against your clit, the vibration making you want to cry. 

you’re the most responsive partner he’s ever had. the way you’re pulling at his grip, whining like he’s not gonna give you exactly what you want. 

clark doesn’t quit until your legs are shaking, until you’re breathing heavily, until you’re barely able to speak. his mouth doesn’t stop moving until he’s satisfied. 

releasing your wrists, he stands, and pumps his painfully hard cock: giving you a second to breathe. 

you suck in oxygen through your nose, shakily exhaling through your mouth. 

the sight of him over you, hand gripping his length, has you drooling. 

clark pats your ass, pinching your hip. you meet his eyes, and he raises a brow. 

“ready,” you say, a little surprised at how weak your voice sounds. it’s a lot different when it’s someone else doing it. you return your wrists to his hand, your shoulder muscles complaining. taking them back into his palm, he nods to you again. you nod back. ready. 

“thank god,” clark rasps, biting his bottom lip as he lines himself up with your entrance. his tip breaks through, stretching you far more than his fingers ever were

you try to breathe, your chest shuddering as he pushes in.

it becomes a little too much:

you gasp, and clark’s eyes fly to yours. your face is pinched in pain, your lips pressed tightly shut. 

he doesn’t pull out. 

“you’re a virgin.” 

said, not asked. 

you nod, grimacing. that gonna change things?

“didn’t feel like sharin’ that w’me before we started?” clark asks, accent thicker. tone dangerous, sharp like the edge of a knife. like the fangs of a rattlesnake. 

you shrug your shoulders the best you can with your wrists still in his palm. 

“guess not,” you start. “does it sweeten the deal?” 

clark scoffs, looking disgusted. looking away. 

he doesn’t respond. 

“tell me if you need to stop.” 

it’s unbearable, it’s all you ever want for the rest of your life. he bottoms out, and the stretch has your most delicate muscles stinging with exertion. 

you could die happy. 

clark kent just took your virginity. 

he moves his hips, resetting, actions careful. eyes on your reaction. 

you don’t say a word, and clark takes that as a green light, yanking at your wrists to arch your back. it has you lifting off of the bed, moving against his cock, moans falling from your mouth involuntarily. 

“there you go, sugar,” he growls, the look on his face enough to make you come again right then and there. 

clark snaps his hips up into yours, pace relentless from the beginning. he snakes his hand around to your front, pinching your nipple. you whine, and he cups your tit, his rough palm kneading the smooth skin. 

every one of your nerve endings feels like it’s on fire, your sensitivity heightened in ways you’ve never felt before. 

“please, clark,” you cry out. 

he grunts behind you, the sound scraping through your ears and dropping straight to your belly. you moan in response, and he moves, bracing himself against you as his hips piston into yours.

“oh, please, just like that,” you whine, his hips snapping into yours. the sight of your ass rippling under him has his teeth clenching. 

“keep talkin’ like that,” he grits out, “and this is gonna be over real soon.” 

he pumps into you, the friction sending pleasure bursting through your body. you would’ve started fucking a lot sooner if you knew it was this good. 

maybe it’s just clark. 

smiling to yourself, you deepen your arch, pulling at his grip. 

“whatever you say, mr. kent.” 

clark lets loose a noise of surprise, and then you can feel his load emptying into you. deep satisfaction settles into your bones, and you use the leverage of his hold on you to pound back into him. 

he groans, almost whimpering, as you milk every last drop. 

clark flops down beside you on the bed, breathing labored. 

“you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters, slinging an arm over his eyes. 

“promise?” you reply, a cheshire cat smile pulling at your lips. 

༄ inspired by father figure by george michael, but got pretty have love will travel by the black keys soon after.. you guys get it.

༄ thanks for reading, and a big thanks to bee for formulating with me about our big man.. there might be future installments of this just to please her.. who knows.

divider: @enchanthings

[oneofstarkskids]

professional

clark kent x fem!reader

genre: hella fluff, slow burn!!!

summary: what starts out as a quick visit ends up with you staying the night at your coworkers apartment.

warnings: sexual desire??

note: i saw superman (2025) today and got straight to writing. !!no spoilers!!

2k-ish words

it was another late night at the daily planet. you had stayed after hours, organizing the stack of piles on your desk and making sure tomorrow's articles were ready to go out.

the yellow glow of a desk lamp was the only thing illuminating the room, besides the metropolis light pollution just outside of the large office windows.

as you set aside the last of the prints, you noticed a briefcase leaning against the legs of the desk across from yours.

you didn't need to see the KENT plaque just above the clasp to know it was clark's.

he'd been working on something new this morning too and all of his research was probably still laying between the dividers of that brown case.

so you did the polite thing and tucked it under your arm before locking up the building.

as soon as you stepped outside it began pouring rain. just your luck. you tried calling him, but it kept going straight to voicemail.

you went back through your text messages to the day clark had sent you his address for a gift you had mailed him. nothing special.

just a new pencil sharpener. every article at the bugle was typed up and then printed, but clark preferred to do things the old fashioned way.

he'd write out all of his thoughts, scratch things out, crumble up the really poorly written papers, and then type up the fully revised version.

the only problem was, all he had was this tiny handheld sharpener that had seen hell and back. so, you bought him a new one. as a 'thank you' for supporting you and sticking up to perry when you were first starting out.

you scrolled until you found the location pin. was it rude and probably inappropriate to show up to your co-workers house in the middle of the night, unannounced? maybe.

but hopefully clark would see your intentions for what they were. to return a belonging to a friend.

it was a bit of a walk, but you seemed to be distracted the entire time. were you really just helping out? being a good coworker?

or not-so deep down, was there another reason you were making your way to his place this late?

it didn't matter.

before you knew it, you were standing at his door soaked from head to toe.

he nearly opened the door before you had a chance to knock, saying your name with surprise.

"what are you doing here?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

you shifted from foot to foot a bit as you held the briefcase out to him, "you left this at the planet. thought you might need it."

he looked over it for a moment before taking it from you. his fingers brushed yours as he reached for it, sending a shiver through your entire body.

clark seemed to notice, then took note of how drenched you were, "did you walk here in the rain?" he asked almost rhetorically.

"yeah, but it's not that far," you said with a smile, contradicting the rosy color of your nose.

clark's dark brows pinched together, trying to understand why you would've done such a thing.

he stepped aside, letting the door swing open, "i have towels and you really should change into something...warmer."

he swallowed, noticing that your pencil skirt and blouse were now clinging to your skin from the rain.

"that's really sweet, but i should probably get home," you said with a soft smile, but his arctic blue eyes could've convinced you otherwise on their own.

"you could get hypothermia. i wouldn't be able to forgive myself," clark said.

you let yourself laugh, it always seemed easier around him, "alright then."

you walked into the apartment, following after him as he went on a hunt for towels.

by the time you'd made it to the bedroom, he'd already set one out along with a pair of his clothes.

"i don't know how well they'll fit, but i figure it's better than wet clothes," he says with his signature grin.

you brush your hair out of your face before whispering a thank you, and that's when you notice how close he is. towering over you and only a few inches away.

your heart seems to beat a little faster.

clark looks down at your chest and blushes suddenly before clearing his throat. "i should probably...sorry. the room's all yours," he mumbles awkwardly before stepping out.

as you get changed, you can't help playing the interaction in your head over and over.

clark is the sweetest man you've ever met. he's insanely talented, really intelligent, and genuinely funny. and yet, there's always something in the way.

something you can't quite see, but feel. on paper, he's perfect. but something tells you there's more to clark kent than he lets on.

now draped in his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that you had to triple fold over, you leave the room.

he's only a few steps away, in the kitchen, pouring hot water over a blue mug.

"i wanted to make sure you had something warm before you go," he said without looking up.

you involuntarily blushed at his considerate nature, "thanks."

he handed you the mug, "careful. it's hot."

"coffee?" you asked hopefully before peeking into the ceramic cup.

he gave you an apologetic look, "tea."

you snickered at his expression before blowing on the beverage to cool it down.

clark leaned against the counter with one arm.

you tried your best to focus on the drink. to not notice the way the muscles in his biceps rippled from holding his weight. to not let your eyes linger on the veins in his forearm too long. or the way his palm was spread out over the marble-

a loud buzz interrupted, yanking you out of your thoughts.

clark raised his eyebrows, reaching for the phone in his pocket. "looks like a flash flood watch," he said quietly.

your fingers curl aroud the mug nervously.

he noticed this, looking down at you sympathetically. "hey, it's going to be okay."

"but...you should probably stay here for the night. if you're comfortable with that, of course," he stutters.

you think it over for a moment.

clark is a gentleman, so it's not like he would try anything. and besides, the rain was coming down hard. flash flood warnings don't get sent out for no reason.

sure, you worked together and this could probably affect your professional relationship if any lines were to be crossed.

so...you would just have to make sure they weren't.

which was easier said than done when he was always looking at you that way.

"you're right," you nod in agreement.

he analyzed you for a moment, as if he was making sure you weren't uncomfortable in any way.

"okay. you can have the bedroom. i'll sleep on the couch," he said politely. you finished what was left in your mug.

"thank you, clark," you said for what felt like the hundredth time tonight and made a mental note to return the favor some time.

you began handing the mug back to clark but the handle slipped through your fingers and it went plummeting towards the tile.

before it could shatter, clark was on his knees, cradling it with one hand.

your breath hitched at the sight of him down there looking back up at you.

maybe you should've apologized. or even laughed it off.

but he stood up so slowly, barely an inch from your face, and you forgot how to think at all.

"careful," he whispered, eyes flickering down to your lips.

ignoring the magnetic force between the two of you, you went your separate ways.

as you crawled into his sheets and rested your head on his pillow, you were sure that was the last you'd see of the raven haired man for the night.

until, a crack of thunder woke you from your sleep. you jolted forward, hand on your chest as your lungs heaved.

clark was already by your side, hand on your shoulder, "it's okay. just breathe. deep breaths in and then out slowly."

you tried to focus on his voice, do what he said. it wasn't easy, but after a few minutes your breathing had slowed.

he'd held onto you the whole time. "are you okay?" clark asked, sincerity in his eyes.

you nodded, "how did you-"

he blinked, trying to understand what you were asking. then it clicked, "oh. i heard you shout. you were crying."

you felt embarrassment wash over you. this didn't happen often, but when it did you'd be plagued with a dreadful feeling all day long.

how fucking perfect for it to happen the one night you choose to spend at someone else's house.

"i'm so sorry," you let your head fall against your bent knees. on the bright side, you'd forgotten what the dream was even about in the first place.

clark's gentle touch fell from your shoulder to squeeze your hand, "don't say that. it's not your fault."

"it's not your fault." his words echoed in your head.

you let your fingers brush against his, "i woke you."

he shook his head, a single curl falling against his forehead, "i wasn't asleep."

clark wasn't going to tell you it was because he'd been worried about you, listening for the slightest sniffle in case you'd caught something out in the rain.

he just gave you a once-over, double checking that you were okay, before straightening his posture, "you should get some sleep."

your heart dropped as he let go of your hand. as he began to leave, you looked out at the window behind him.

the clouds crackled with fury.

"clark," your voice came out weak.

he turned back to you without hesitation.

"do you wanna stay? maybe talk?" you asked.

clark's eyes went slightly wider and he seemed at a loss for words.

you fidgeted, "it's just, i don't think i'll be able to go back to sleep. and it's kind of awful being alone in here."

"i don't know how you do it," you laughed.

the smile he gave you reached his eyes and he sat beside you without a word.

you moved over, making sure he had enough space before leaning back against the headboard, "tell me about your latest piece."

clark began rambling on and on about news in metropolis. how big corporations were affecting small businesses and something about climate change.

you weren't really sure. at some point you began falling asleep, your head slowly sinking down onto his shoulder.

he stopped talking as he felt you curl up against him, taking a moment to admire your peaceful state.

after making sure you were fully asleep, he gently laid you down against the pillows, pulling the covers up over you.

"goodnight," he whispered before making a move to slip out of bed. but before he could, your arm was flung over his lap.

he let out a short, breathy laugh before trying again.

this time, your fingers curled around his shirt and tugged him closer.

so clark had no choice but to stay there by your side all night long, even dozed off sitting up a few times.

by morning, you'd completely forgotten where you were.

that was until you saw his face. his jaw slack, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he snored quietly.

the morning glow hit his features just right and he suddenly didn't look like shy, quiet clark kent.

he looked like something carved by greeks. he looked like a god.

almost as if he could feel you staring, he blinked, slowly waking up. clark gave you a curious look, "were you watching me sleep?"

your eyebrows shot up, "what!? no, of course not. that would be weird."

he nodded slowly, "it would be weird. but, i don't mind weird."

you chewed your bottom lip nervously as your thoughts ran wild. it had only just seemed to dawn on you that you were currently at clark kent's apartment, laying in clark kent's bed, wearing clark kent's clothes.

"you talk in your sleep, ya' know?" he smirked.

you frowned, "um. no, i did not know that."

he looked at you like he knew something you didn't.

"what?? what did i say," you asked, bracing yourself for impact.

clark shook his head reassuringly, "nothing."

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in as he pulled off the covers and walked over to his dresser, taking a sip from a glass that you hadn't noticed before.

"and i'll make sure that you dreaming of my strong arms is off the record," he said smugly and casually.

you gasped in horror, "CLARK!" you threw a pillow at him, missing terribly and being subjected to the sound of his chaotic laughter.

[scatorcciosgirl]

dealer!nat x innocent!reader headcanons…

Dealer!Nat x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ / MDNI, modern college AU, fem!reader, usage of y/n, slow burn (kinda?), reader is oblivious, mentions of smoking & drug use, profanity, loss of virginity, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving + implied giving), use of strap-on (r!receiving), mentions of cockwarming, implied semi-public sex, praise kink, slight d/s dynamics, not proofread

Note: i got this stuck in my head and i couldn’t get it out. also i swear i'm working on camera girl pt.2!! but if u guys want to leave requests pls feel free to (:

sfw

Dealer!Nat who only started dealing to put herself through school. Could she have just gotten a regular job? Probably. Should she have? Hell no. There was no way she was gonna pay off her student loans on time that way. And, thanks to her dad, she was already in debt enough as is.

Dealer!Nat who gains a reputation fast. Not just because her weed is good (it is, though - best on campus), but because she’s a player. It doesn’t matter who you are - guy or girl - you’re not immune to the Natalie Scatorccio effect. She fucks and leaves and never speaks to you again.

Dealer!Nat whom you meet because your roommate wants to buy weed but doesn’t want to go alone. So, you go with her to meet the dealer in the dark parking lot of the local grocery store in your college town.

Dealer!Nat who notices you because you’re wearing a low-cut shirt that shows your cleavage, a tennis skirt that shows the roundness of your ass, and a too bright smile for someone attending a drug deal.

Dealer!Nat who never gives discounts, but gives your roommate a discount that night.

Dealer!Nat who can’t help but smile when you wave goodbye and wish her a good night when the transaction is over. Then she overhears you talking with your roommate as you leave,

“She was nice. I wanted to tell her I liked her hair but I thought it would be too weird.”

Dealer!Nat who got unreasonably happy when she sells to your roommate again and you show up with her, wearing a matching pajama set this time and bunny slippers.

Dealer!Nat who asks your roommate if you're coming every time she asks about a pickup and conveniently gets busy when she says no

Dealer!Nat who calls you bunny every time you see each other after that.

“You always wear stuff like that, Bunny? Or am I just special?”

“Oh! No! I just bought this shirt the other day. Isn’t it cute?”

Dealer!Nat who, when you don’t respond to her flirting, starts thinking you’re either the most oblivious person on the planet or maybe you’re not into girls. Or, worse… maybe you’re just not into her.

Dealer!Nat who starts flirting harder with you to see what you do.

Dealer!Nat who is pleasantly surprised when you show up alone to a transaction. You tell her that your roommate couldn’t make it so she sent you to pick up her stuff.

Dealer!Nat who exchanges numbers with you “just in case” and immediately puts your contact as bunny🐇

Dealer!Nat who adds in a free edible once for you and your roommate informs her that you don't do weed.

Dealer!Nat who texts you that night to tease you for not being a stoner. And then starts texting you even more, learning about you. Your major, your hobbies, your favorites. Dealer!Nat who starts ‘randomly’ showing up at places you told her you were going to be at so she has an excuse to talk to you.

Dealer!Nat who insists you call her Nat every time you call her Natalie.

Dealer!Nat who starts spending more time with you. Walking you to class. Driving or walking you back to your dorm when it's late. A study session at your dorm room. A horror movie marathon at her apartment.

Dealer!Nat who memorizes your coffee order, favorite snacks, and your class schedule.

Dealer!Nat who lends you her leather jacket once, then a hoodie. Then more hoodies because that one came back smelling like you.

Dealer!Nat who teases you for your music taste but exchanges playlists with you.

Dealer!Nat who tries not to smoke around you. But makes sure to blow the smoke away from you if she does.

Dealer!Nat who doesn't realize how much she's fallen for you she is until it's too late because now you're falling asleep on her shoulder and spending the night at her place and handing her things with small smiles, saying, "It made me think of you!"

Dealer!Nat who tries to pull away once she realizes and stops texting you as much. But that only lasts a couple of days because then you're asking her how her day went and telling her you made cookies.

Dealer!Nat who tries to figure out if you even like girls but gets nowhere.

"You talking to anyone lately, Bunny?"

"Um... you?"

Dealer!Nat who gets surprised one day when you shyly ask if you can have a hit off the joint she's smoking out her bedroom window. She talks you through your first hit and can't help but laugh when you cough.

Dealer!Nat who lets you smoke more the next few times you hang out and listens to you ramble about anything and everything when you get high after a few hits.

Dealer!Nat who nearly chokes on the hit she just took when you ask her one day what shotgunning is because you heard about it on TikTok.

"They said it's blowing smoke into someone's mouth... through a kiss? I didn't know you could do that."

"Uh, yeah. That's one way to do it. Usually it's just... mouth to mouth. Gets the smoke in deeper."

"Oh... Have you ever done it?"

Dealer!Nat who shotguns the joint for you. She thinks fuck it when your lips brush and kisses you, soft and hesitant at first. It quickly turns into a full-blown makeout session when you don't pull away from her.

Dealer!Nat who doesn't fuck you that night - even though she really really wants to - because you've told her once that you're a virgin. You end up staying at her place, though. Falling asleep to Finding Nemo after exchanging kisses with her for a while.

Dealer!Nat who toes the line for a while after that. Nothing really changes between the two of you, except for you kiss now. Often. You've exchanged study sessions for makeout sessions.

Dealer!Nat who wants to ask you out. She wants to do it the right way. But she's never done this before. So she goes back and forth for a while before she texts you one day when you're not with her.

nat🫶

what are u doing friday?

bunny🐇

nothing

why? 🙃

nat🫶

wanna go out with me?

like on a actual date

not just smoking n horror movies n shit

bunny🐇

i’d love that (:

Dealer!Nat who shows up at 6 PM sharp to your dorm room Friday night with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, wearing her signature leather jacket. She takes you to a cozy hole-in-the-wall pizza place with a mini arcade and wins you a stuffed bunny.

Dealer!Nat who never asks you to be her girlfriend because she figured the date was enough to make it official until you quietly ask her one night if you're together-together.

Dealer!Nat who proudly puts a bunny in the bio of all of her abandoned socials.

Dealer!Nat who solely refers to you as her girl.

"Fuck off, my girl made these for me."

"Oh, yeah, my girl likes that book."

Dealer!Nat who, despite mostly selling to preppy rich kids, makes you stay in the car when you go with her to deals just to be safe.

Dealer!Nat who got incredibly flustered the first time you told her you loved her. The two of you were supposed to be studying in her room but you'd ended up making out. Then, all of a sudden, you pulled back and just stared at her.

"What?"

"Nothing... I just really love you, Nat."

nsfw

Dealer!Nat who is so soft with you your first time (which you initiated, by the way). The two of you were making out - as usual - when you pulled back to catch your breath.

"I want you, Nat."

Dealer!Nat who, after making sure you're sure, slowly undresses you, kissing every inch of skin that gets revealed to her. She tells you how pretty you are the entire time.

Dealer!Nat who groans when she finally slides your panties down and sees how wet you are for her. She slides her fingers through your folds, gathering your slick. Then, finally, she inserts a finger. Then two.

Dealer!Nat who talks you through it every time.

"You're doing so good for me, Bunny."

Dealer!Nat who encourages you to be noisy.

"Don't hide those pretty sounds from me, baby."

Dealer!Nat who could live between your legs. She can't get enough of how you taste, or the way your thighs clench around her head, or how your fingers feel tangled in her hair.

Dealer!Nat who loves how sensitive you are and starts using it against you.

"It's too much, Nat. I can't-"

"Shh. Yes, you can, Bunny. Be a good girl and give me one more."

Dealer!Nat who slowly starts lying when she says she's only gonna make you cum one more time. You’re just too pretty when you finish, she can’t stop.

Dealer!Nat who can't get enough of how you sound when you beg. And she always gives in. She'll try to make you wait but the second you whine her name, she's folding.

Dealer!Nat who buys a pink strap for you but is so hesitant to use it for a while. And when she finally decides it's time, she spends so long prepping you with her fingers and lots of lube.

Dealer!Nat who becomes obsessed with making you sit on the strap. She loves hearing your whines as she helps you ride it, loves watching you struggle to take it all. Sometimes, she just makes you stay still on it.

Dealer!Nat who nearly loses her mind when you ask her to teach you how to go down on her. She's so patient with you, though, and praises you the entire time.

“That’s it. Good job, Bunny.”

Dealer!Nat who sometimes makes you late to events because you look so pretty she just has to have you moaning her name.

Dealer!Nat who starts getting risky in public. In her pick-up between deals. Her hand under your skirt at a party. Sitting on her lap during a movie night with her friends. She can't get enough of the way you try not to squirm as her fingers press against you through your panties.

Dealer!Nat who didn’t even know just how kinky she was before you because she only ever had one-night stands.