Synopsis: A stranger you’ve never met before keeps telling you he’s from the future, and how he was actually your lover. You don’t believe his nonsense, until all his predictions come true.
You're not sure when it started.
But some guy you've never seen before has been following you around. Openly. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet about it.
Walks next to you like he belongs there, like you've been doing this for years.
At first you just thought he was a weirdo.
Then, he started telling you stories about yourself.
Not guesses. Not vague stuff anyone could assume.
Actual memories. Things you don’t ever remember telling anyone.
"You broke your wrist in third grade falling off the monkey bars," he said one afternoon, walking beside you like it was normal. "You cried because you thought your mom would be mad about the hospital bill."
You stopped walking.
"How do you know that?"
Was someone pranking you here? Because this wasn’t funny anymore.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he just smiled. Not smug. Not teasing.
It was soft and fond. Like he was remembering something precious.
No… He just followed you. Talked to you. Smiled at you like he knew you better than anyone else.
So, you confronted him yourself.
"Why are you doing this?"
He looked at you quietly for a second. Then said something that made your skin crawl.
"You just haven't fallen in love with me yet."
You stared. "…Yet?"
He nodded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
After that, the stories changed.
No more childhood memories. Instead, he started talking about your future.
"Next Tuesday your professor will cancel class."
"Your friend Mina will spill coffee on your notes tomorrow."
"You'll take an extra shift at the gas station this week."
Total nonsense, obviously. You laughed it off.
Yep, definitely a hooligan. You labeled him in your mind.
But he said this nonsense so many times you accidentally memorized the lines.
Which is why, when your coworker opens her mouth, your stomach drops.
"Hey, you're on night duty today."
"What? No I'm not!"
She pouts. "Oh, come on!! Please cover this shift for me, I promise I'll make it up to you."
You owe me three other times already.
She begs and begs. Eventually you sigh.
"Fine."
The second the word leaves your mouth, your chest goes cold.
Because you've heard this before.
From him.
Night shifts at the gas station are the worst. Too quiet. Too empty. Just the hum of the fridge and the occasional owl from the forest behind the store.
You hate working during these hours, it gave you the creeps. The feeling of being watched.
The bell above the door jingles.
A middle-aged man stumbles in, his walk wobbly. Even from behind the counter, you can smell the alcohol, signaling to you that he must be drunk.
Great.
You force a customer service smile as he approaches. "Good evening, sir, can I help—"
"You."
He points a shaky finger at your face.
"Where's that other wench that works here? Why isn't she here tonight?"
Your blood goes cold.
Word for word.
“Sir, can I help you buy something?” Your voice came out thin. Small. “Maybe some water? Coffee?”
“Don’t ignore me!” He slapped the counter. The bottle in his hand—wine, red wine, just like he said—swung through the air. “I asked you a question!”
You fumbled for the phone in your pocket. But it was too slow. The drunk man was already coming around the side of the counter, eyes wild, breath sour.
“Damn it, stop ignoring me!”
Suddenly he's right in front of you. His hand lifts a wine bottle high in the air, aimed straight at your head.
You can't move. Can't think. Just that same sentence echoing over and over.
You'll be attacked at night in the gas station.
You saw it coming. Saw the arc of it, the way the light caught the green glass. You knew what was about to happen, yet you still couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but close your eyes and scream— “AAHHHH”
SLAM.
The sound followed. Not glass breaking. Not your skull caving in.
A body hitting the far wall.
The crashing sound of shelves collapsing. Candy bars and chip bags and cheap lighters scattering across the floor.
Then silence.
“It’s okay,” The soft, familiar voice quietly whispers. “Open your eyes. I’ve got you.”
You couldn’t believe the thought that crossed your mind. The voice you’d grown used to hearing… for the first time, you were actually relieved to hear.
You hesitate. Then slowly… you do.
You opened your eyes.
The drunk man was crumpled against the opposite wall, groaning, the wine bottle shattered beside him. And standing between you and him—calm, unhurried, brushing dust off his sleeve—was the hooligan.
His smile was gentle.
Lovesick.
Like he hadn’t just thrown a full-grown man across a convenience store.
“Don’t be afraid.” He stepped closer, “I said I got you.”
You, however, couldn’t speak. Could only stare as he reached over the counter and took your shaking hands in his. His palms were warm. Steady.
"I got here a little earlier this time," he says thoughtfully.
"Last time you needed stitches." He mutters to himself.
Your blood turns to ice.
Last time?
He steps closer to the counter, resting his arms on it casually. As if this were just a normal visit. Like he's done this a thousand times before.
His gaze softens as he looks at you.
“Do you believe me yet?” He laughed softly, like this was all some private joke between the two of you. Meanwhile his eyes never left your face. Hungry. Adoring. Wrong.
You can't answer. Your brain is still stuck on last time.
He chuckles quietly, and tilts his head. Watching your face with lovesick patience.
Then his voice drops to something gentler. Something terrifyingly certain.
"Good. Now all you have to do… is fall for me a little faster this time."
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in which; ryomen sukuna is stubborn and completely obsessed with his ex. he can’t seem to understand why she’s so angry with him, and why she won’t take him back. one thing he knows for sure though, is that despite her anger; he’s still not blocked. what was that saying his mother used to say again; closed mouths don’t get fed? that’s for certain, ryomen’s mouth is open and begging y/n to take him back.
cw!: none, just a text fic. (i feel like sukuna’s ooc, but it’s hard to apply a character like him into a modern setting. i think he’s a very interesting character and there’s alot of his qualities you could focus on rather than just the fact that’s he’s angry, he’s definitely a character who fixates on something when he wants it (his obsession with megumi, for example.))
You’re a commitment-phobic, anxious-avoidant hopeless romantic. You want love, but you’re afraid of vulnerability.
You may flirt, but the instant you feel that something real is developing, you distance yourself. You nip things in the bud because no matter how sweet it may be, it can never be true love.
All love is fleeting in the real world so you just lock up your heart and focus on your other passions.
But he sees right through this. He doesn’t turn his back even when you push him away.
He’ll give you space but come back with a powerpoint presentation about why you’re perfect for each other.
CALEB, james lee/diego kang, jake kim, mark grayson, dick grayson
As you were walking back to your apartment you heard an unknown voice call out your name. It took you off guard and you stopped right in your tracks. Before blinking a few times to register what was happening, you turned around to see who was there. Lo and behold it was a girl- blonde, tall, and thin at that, was waving to you. What the fuck? Never in your life had you seen this girl but she was acting like she knew exactly who you were.
"Hey! Oh my gosh... you're that one girl Sukuna betted on right?" She laughed a little and looked you up and down. What was going on right now? You looked around before scrunching your face up in confusion and nodding.
"Uh yeah? I guess I am. How did you know."
"Oh girl, everyone knows!"
You falter for a second. Everyone knows? Everyone knows you're the girl who Sukuna took on a date as a bet. Everyone knows you're the laughing stock of the frats and sororities of the university. Oh wow. This went beyond the little group joke. Now everyone knows who you are, unwillingly and not for some good reason. People feel pity for you and to be frank you were never a fan of the spotlight especially not because it was out of pity. You stared at the girl like a deer in headlights. She could tell you weren't aware and was almost getting joy out of your embarrassment.
"You should probably like... I don't know actually. But he's not usually into... your type..."
My type? Girl what the fuck does that mean. You were already catching onto that this girl must have a thing for Sukuna. So, you pressed your lips into a line and nodded. Slowly, you turned on your heels and walked away. These people were weird. What is everyone's problem. It was starting to piss you off, this whole situation. At this point you really wanted to go home and take some time for yourself. So that's what you did. You took the long scenic walk to your apartment as you thought about things. Why did you have to get picked for this bet. How were you even on his radar. You're not his typical type and definitely don't rock with the same scene he does. The whole walk your mind was just running.
You finally got home and let out a relieved sigh. Quietly taking off your shoes and shuffling your feet against the hardwood floor all the way to the kitchen. You dropped your school bag on the kitchen island before taking out the flowers Sukuna got you. Looking at them gave you a strange feelings you couldn't quite identify. But, nonetheless, you took them out of the paper and rubber band, carefully prepping a glass vase with water. You placed the flowers in the vase and arranged them to your liking then settled them on the island.
You paused for a minute to think about today. It was barely the evening and you were already bothered by today's events. From Sukuna trying to apologize to the blonde girl informing you that everyone knew you were a fool. Since Sukuna, your quiet mundane life has gotten hectic and you weren't a fan of it. You shook off those thoughts before walking to your room. Honestly you just wanted to get into bed and scroll on your phone just listening to music and blocking out the world. But, you needed to change out of your clothes. So, tiredly you stripped of your clothes and put on pajamas. You were gonna run errands but, you didn't feel like doing much else today. Instead, you got to flop on your bed and open your phone after a long day of classes and people. To your surprise you had a message on instagram from what looked like to be someone's alt account. You clicked the message from an account named "kingofcurses" and all that read was.
Kingofcurses: Unblock me
Yeah, that's Sukuna alright. But, you didn't feel like giving in or really talking to him right now so, you left him on read. That didn't go over well with him because ten minutes later you got another text.
Kingofcurses: Why you ignoring me?
You: Cause I don't feel like dealing with you rn
Kingofcurses: C'mon I thought you were gonna give me another chance
You pause for a moment to think about your response. You really don't know if it's a good idea to give him another chance. So you let out a sigh and started typing back.
You: I don't really know if I want to even give you one. Some girl came up to me today and basically told me I was the laughing stock of the university
Kingofcurses: Oh fuck
Kingofcurses: Im sorry ma, I promise you're not
You: No I definitely am if someone random girl came up to me and was rude
Kingofcurses: What she look like
You: Uh... blonde, tall and skinny?
Kingofcurses: That could be any girl on campus
You: Idk okay! Just not in the mood right now
Kingofcurses: Alr. Well I was wondering if you wanted to come to the party my frat is throwing this friday?
Pause. You at a frat party? That's not exactly your typical scene. From all the people crowded together to the random hookups. It wasn't something you necessarily liked to partake in. Why was he even asking you to go? You barely just started to talk to him after what he did. So what if you accepted his flowers, it's not like you said you were going to give him another chance. You sat on your bed and looked at the message for a little while you pondered before sending a message back.
You: I rather not... that's not really my scene
Kingofcurses: Really? You won't even consider it?
You: I guess, let me think about it?
Kingofcurses: Yea just think abt it and lemme know
You left the message on read and instead called your friend Shoko to update her on everything that's happened today. You've been keeping her in the loop since Sukuna first asked you out. She didn't ever really approve of him and especially not now after everything came out. But nonetheless she's your best friend. The phone rang for a coupled seconds before-
"What's up, girl?" Shoko asked. She had also just finished up her classes.
"You won't believe what happened today. So first, I was walking to class, right? And guess who corned me?" You spoke like this was gonna be a while.
Shoko let out a sigh and hummed, "let me guess... It was Sukuna?"
"Yes! And he had my favorite flowers. Like what? But, he literally asked for a second chance and how he realized he messed up."
"Girl. You better not fall for that bullshit. Y'know better."
"Yeah, yeah... I know but it was kind of surprising. I said he needed to prove it. But then after my class he found me and offered to walk me home. To which I said no. Obviously."
"You better have stood your ground. I would not trust that man, babes." Shoko laughed and then sighed. She couldn't understand how you, her sweet best friend, could have gotten entangled to this mess.
You let out a small groan before continuing "ugh and y'know after I started to walk home this girl had the audacity to stop me and tell me like everyone on campus knew about the bet. Then on top of that she said I wasn't Sukuna's type. Like who are you."
"You're joking? That's so fucking weird. Who does that..."
"I know right. But it doesn't end there. I finally get home and Sukuna texts me off his alt account talking about some 'unblock me.' Like... I'm okay. But then he literally invited me to his party this weekend."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'll think about it" you sigh and thought about how nice it was to have Shoko as a friend you can vent to.
"Well, y'know I'm not the biggest fan of Sukuna but I was gonna go to the party. Why don't we just go together?"
"Actually Shoko... that's not a bad idea. I think going with you would make me feel better! Okay so Friday then we can get ready at my place like two hours before the party? How does that sound?"
"Babes, I think I like the sound of this and maybe it will be good for us."
"Totally, Sho, okay then it's a plan. Alright, I'll let you go now. Talk later, love you."
"Okay, talk later and love you too."
With that, you hung up and fell back on your pillows. You were kind of excited for the party. Like how often do you get to get all dressed up, go out with your best friend, and live a little. Sure, it wasn't your usual scene but you deserved to let loose. Between the Sukuna situation and classes you really needed a good time. You were always too on track and focused maybe it will be a good thing. You opened your phone back up to tell Sukuna you'll go.
You: I'll go to the party but my friend is coming
You sent the text and scrolled on social media for a little before you got a text back.
Kingofcurses: Cool. Im glad you're gonna come. I promise you'll have fun
summary: you look too good in your bathing suit on vacation.
word count: 2.4k
contains: fluff & smut. chloe/jimmy, lois/oliver, reader/clark trip to the beach. jealous & protective!clark, oblivious!reader. some grumpy behavior and horniness, some overreacting– clark is just a man guys, excuse his behavior… teasing/banter. reader is heavily implied to be a switch. *handjob, praise, the beloved bunny kink. *no use of y/n
a/n: clark you are so hungry omfg. here you go anon wrote this at midnight just for you!!!!
—————————— ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊——————————
Clark was not jealous. He was just concerned for your safety. Somebody had to be!
This beach could be full of criminals. Potential attackers and kidnappers. Men who could take one look at you and decide that you would be the perfect victim to wrangle away from the group and disappear without a trace. They certainly all seemed to think so by the way they stared, and he wasn’t having it.
What was worse was that you didn’t even notice. You just laid there in that ridiculous number: little bikini bottoms with two tropical flowers on each cheek, the hem pinching the plentiful skin of your hips and thighs, and a matching bikini top that did nothing to conceal the soft rolls and curves of your torso, which were so safely shrouded in a pretty blue rashguard on the walk over. Your body was a magnet. His magnet. He was rigid as a board as he surveyed the shore.
“You need more sunscreen,” Clark grunted, taking the half-empty bottle free and pulling you up by the arms.
You flushed a bit and glanced to your left, where Lois was smirking behind a dipped hat brim. She mouthed, Psycho.
“Clarkie, you sunblocked me like a half-hour ago! The stuff doesn’t wear off until eighty minutes!”
“Don’t care. You look pink. Should have listened and kept that rashguard on– sit up, bunny.”
You rolled your eyes and let him smear more sunblock on your arms, and you took the opportunity to look up at his face. His skin was perfectly golden already– Kryptonians don’t need sunblock, which was some kind of cruel trick by the universe, you decided– and his mouth was turned downward. For lack of a better word, on your nice tropical vacation with friends and drinks and absolutely nothing going wrong, your boyfriend looked miserable.
You furrowed your brow. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, moving onto your tummy. He took indulgent liberties with squeezing and kneading your flesh, and his eyes flickered around as he did so. At the group of guys down the beach knocking a volleyball around, and the other group in the opposite direction who were sipping beers, and even at his own friends. Oliver was half-asleep in a chair beside Lois with a warm soda can in his grip, and Jimmy was nose-deep in a comic anthology which he protected from the sand with his life.
“You look like a spooked cat. Or a dejected seal.”
Clark glared affectionately at you and playfully smeared some lotion on your cheek. When you scrunched your nose and swatted him away, he moaned in annoyance. Your warm skin was glittering. “That stuff is a little much, you know.”
“I like the sparkle sunscreen,” you laughed. “Seriously, baby, what is it?”
“Nothing,” he huffed, tossing the bottle back into your bag and sitting back in his chair. “Nothing.”
You gave it a second, wheels spinning with curiosity, before giving up. Clark could get this way sometimes. All rough around the edges. It usually happened when he was in an unusual environment. The beach was definitely one– being a Smallville native, all he knew were lakes. The ocean was a sprawling unknown variable before your eyes, littered with vacation boats rocking in the waves and people bobbing like apples. Maybe he was afraid of sharks. Or fun.
Shaking off the attitude, you nudged Lois’ foot. “I think I might go dip my feet in. Wanna go? Chloe?”
The spunky blonde’s head perked up, and she smiled with every tooth. “Sure! I’m pretty hot anyways.”
“Alright, fine… let’s get it over with,” Lois smirked.
As you rose to your feet, Clark watched you unwrap the nest of hair punctured by your hair clip. The sweaty strands fell like ropes of silk down your back, shining in the sunlight. His heart hammered while he protested: “But I just put sunblock on you! That’s gotta soak in!”
You sighed and threw him a glance over your shoulder as Lois and Chloe started down the searing sand toward the water. “I think my sunblock from earlier is set just fine!”
Clark sputtered softly to himself as the swing of your hips sliced the air. There you went, trotting in scraps of nylon and spandex, bearing your Hellenistic shape to the undeserving eyes of the entire Atlantic coast. He was lucky nobody chased you to the water. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, tracking your trio.
“You know, man, she’s allowed to enjoy herself,” Oliver said, giving Clark a start. He was so convincingly napping before. “The poor girl’s just trying to have fun and you’re hounding her.”
Clark stared at Oliver with the blank expression of his ancestors. “She is enjoying herself.”
“Not with you breathing down her neck, she’s not. What’s the big idea, anyway? Can’t give her space?”
Clark waved him off dismissively. Oliver wouldn’t understand. Lois was the queen of wearing revealing things, and he wasn’t innocent of the charge, either. They were perfect for each other in a lot of ways. But you? His sweet, thoughtful girl? You wore clothes. Real clothes, frequently. Seeing you like this was entirely too jarring for Clark’s taste. It had him aching in places too vulnerable for the open air.
Oliver studied his friend’s profile. Clark’s fingers tapped impatiently on his knees while his eyes darted past your every move, watching you splash water on Chloe and whip your salted hair back, letting the water trickle beneath the tie of your top and through the crevices of your body. Suddenly, the man found himself laughing.
“What? What’s so funny?” Clark grumbled irritably.
“Dude, are you seriously jealous over your own girlfriend?”
Clark snapped his head towards Oliver. Jimmy’s eyes flicked up, too, smiling behind his book. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hey, I get it. She looks good in that–”
Clark’s face burned as his hand shot out and clapped Oliver’s mouth shut. “Watch it.”
The blond licked his palm and made the man rescind with disgust, cackling at the world’s funniest joke. “You’ve got problems, my friend.”
“Don’t look at her. In fact, just shut your eyes. Look at nothing.”
“My girlfriend is down there too!”
“Shut up,” he deadpanned, standing decisively.
Down at the water, you dunked under again, feeling the rush of cool liquid over your sizzling skin. When you came back up, Lois was picking at a knot in her hair and still pressing the topic of your boyfriend.
“I’m telling you, he’s trying to mark his territory,” she rambled, and Chloe’s laugh rang out from the waves a few feet over. “Guys get that way, seriously! The second you look too good for them, they dig their claws in. Everyone and everything is a threat.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” You swore, adjusting your swim bottoms.
“Look at you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a bikini. Clearly Clark wishes only he could see you in a bikini.”
You flushed and argued, “Well, there’s nothing wrong with a little body positivity…”
“Of course there isn’t,” Chloe interjected, leaping to ride a small wave out. “But what Lois is trying to say is that you look great, and I think it’s making Clark nervous. You know how he gets when guys flirt with you.”
“I’m still not convinced that they do.”
“That guy in the bar last week? ‘Do you always take your drinks as sweet as you?’ Oh, please!” Lois snickered.
Wincing a bit, you admitted, “Okay, that one might have been a pick up line.”
A rushed hiss escaped from Chloe, cutting their conversation short. She raised her finger to her lips and flung a handful of water at you and Lois, suddenly grinning. “Shut up– he’s coming in!”
You turned toward the shore to see Clark in his abhorrently long swim trunks wading into the shallow shoreline. You had tried to take him shopping for a suit that fit the day and age, but he was insistent that his high-school trunks worked just fine. He had the same bothered expression on his face, and you stifled a laugh as he swam out.
“I think I’ll go make Ollie sunblock me sensually,” Lois quipped, and Chloe winked at you, following her cousin’s strokes back to shore.
Clark shot them a passing glance and dove underwater, and you watched for his head to pop up. It was only when a pair of hands wrapped around your ankles that you yelped. The water swallowed you whole, and you felt a rippling pair of arms wrap around your waist as you surfaced again, sputtering with laughter.
“Warn me next time! I could have choked!”
Clark smiled and smoothed your soaked hair from your face, revealing those shiny eyes and plump cheeks. Another stroke of unpredictability had him lunging forward with a kiss, and you grunted in surprise as his lips slotted against yours; you quickly found your way, of course, forgetting you were in the ocean and that he had nearly drowned you for the sake of joining the group.
“Mmf– Clark,” you wheezed, prying yourself free. “I mean it, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting crazy since we left the hotel.”
“Your bathing suit,” he conceded, hands smoothing down your back.
“My what?”
“You look ridiculous in it,” he elaborated, blushing awkwardly. “Like, good. Ridiculously good. Everyone is staring at you.”
“They are not.”
“Yes, baby, they are,” he sighed, hooking a thumb under the little bow tying your bottoms to your hip. The purchase seemed to ground him. “You’re attracting all kinds of attention. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to sit around and watch while you make the entire beach drool?”
“I hardly think–”
“I’ve been hard for like, two hours,” he grumbled, dipping his head to press kisses to your collarbone. With the next swell of water, he drew you closer, pressing his groin against your thigh. The stiffness was overt. “Please don’t tell me you intended to torture me where everyone can see.”
Oh. Oh. So that was it.
You giggled sheepishly and wrapped your weightless legs around him, reveling in the buoyancy the sea afforded you. He flushed deeper and spanned his palms over the curve of your ass, keeping you flush. With a soft press of your lips to the juncture of his jaw, you whispered in his ear, “You really think I look that good?”
“Yes, bunny, obviously,” he muttered, properly humiliated.
You were no better. How many times have you wanted to tear a girl’s head off her shoulders for ogling him at work or on the street? You understood being territorial, even if Lois thought it was juvenile. Who wouldn’t want to keep a guy like Clark all to themselves? In a twisted way, it flattered you that he loved you that much– to the point of paranoia. It was kind of cute. Maybe you were both crazy.
You made the irresponsible decision to shove your hand down his swim trunks, and Clark’s eyes shot wide open. “Bunny, you–”
“Nobody can see,” you cooed, leaving kisses down the side of his neck, “just looks like we’re kissing. Let me…”
“Can’t you get an infection or something?”
A lighthearted giggle fell from your lips. “I’m not going to fuck you in the ocean. Yes, I would, I can’t imagine getting sea water stuck up there would be good for me. But you, on the other hand…”
Clark’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt your thumb slip over the throbbing slit of his cock, nudging the pink skin like a button. “Oh, gosh…”
“You want it? I’ll be quick, I’ll do a good job, I promise,” you crooned.
“Ah– mhm. Yeah, yes, yes. Please.”
You beamed at his tone. Superman was so macho until he had a hand on his cock. Sometimes you wondered if the taboo column would ever run a poll on whether the public believed Superman whined during sex. You would never tell them the truth.
“You don’t have to worry, you know,” you murmured, wrapping a set of delicate fingers around his shaft and starting to pump. “I only have eyes for you.”
Clark was grateful for the water, because he could at least count on it to hold him up as his knees buckled. The two of you drifted about in the waves as he clung onto you for dear life, face tucked into your neck, swallowing moans as if anyone could possibly hear all the way up the beach.
“I’m glad you like my bathing suit,” you kept talking, spurring him on as you jerked his cock diligently in your hand, thumbing the head with a practiced pressure and relishing the familiar twitch of his muscles.
“Bunny, baby… oh, please…”
“You think I want anyone else looking at me? Putting sunblock on my back?” You nipped his ear, coaxing your grip on him faster. “Only you, Clarkie. Wish we were alone, wish this was a private beach… I might have just let you fuck me right there on the sand.”
Clark moaned embarrassingly loud and you covered it with a splash of your free hand in the water, laughing sweetly. His gut clenched and jumped with every twist of your palm, the short-lived response only seconds away from seeding the sea. “You’re s-so mean,” he whimpered, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “Good girl.”
“I’m gonna get nice and sunburnt, baby, so when we go back to the hotel you can peel this swimsuit off and put aloe all over me,” you promised, voice lilting like a siren call. He always liked it when you talked softly to him like this. Of the two of you, your mouth was dirtier. “You can lay me down and have me all to yourself.”
“You promise?” He panted, cock jumping. Just the thought of locking you in the room and pounding into you until the time to drag you to dinner came… “Jesus, Bunny, I’m gonna cum!”
You nibbled on his cheek and cranked down hard, and Clark’s hips bucked into your hand. You listened to the soft sounds of his moans as they gurgled against your wet skin, and in the water below, you saw little white tadpoles springing to the surface. A triumphant smile overtook your warm face.
Clark’s body was taut with release as you smiled at him, and he tugged you underwater again, digging his fingers into your sides to perform a revengeful tickle. When you came up gasping for air, he kissed you hard, mumbling a barely coherent swear: “Have your fun while it lasts, because when we get back to the room, I’m gonna make you hop.”
You flushed happily and bit his lip, feeling another wave crash over your shoulders. “Lucky me.”
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Most Adoptable Grown Man Contest - Round 3, Poll 26
Which grown man is more adoptable?
Crimzon Ruze - Holostars EN
Ned Flanders - The Simpsons
Voting ended onJun 20
Crimzon Ruze was in the top five most submitted characters and I've never heard of him for before so. Let's see how thoroughly I'm shown how popular he is lmao
April Dev Log: New Roadmap, Developing Sooha Route, PC Version, and Season 3 Updates
Hello, Finders! April is in full bloom! We can’t believe half the year is almost gone... This has to be a joke, right?!
Anyway, let’s dive into the April Development Diary!!
🗺️ New Roadmap
Our development schedule has been updated, so We’d like to share the revised roadmap with you! Our goal is to wrap up the Moonlight Dialogue journey within this year. 🙇🏻♀️ Please understand that schedules are subject to change due to unforeseen circumstances, but as always, we will do our absolute best to stick to this roadmap!
Sound🔊: 50% Complete (Remaining: Voice recording for specific characters, SFX, and direction)
Translation🔡: 20% Complete
You might notice that progress hasn’t moved as much since last month... ㅠㅠ That's because we are currently running QA for the PC version simultaneously! We’ll make sure the PC version launches on time according to the roadmap.
📌Season 3: In Progress
Scenario✒️: 40% Complete
Programming🛠️: 5% Complete
Art🎨: 30% Complete
Sound🔊: 20% Complete
Translation🔡: 20% Complete
Work on Season 3—where you’ll experience the common routes and endings for Yuchae and Seojun—is also underway! We can’t wait to share our characters' stories with all of you Finders. My goal is to focus heavily on the scenario throughout May and complete all voice recordings by June!! We’ll do my best to balance this with my main job so We stay healthy and avoid any delays!
Other Stories
My niece painted a tote bag for Earth Day (April 22nd) at school, and she gave it to me as a gift, saying she thought of Moonlight Dialogue while making it! 💓 She hasn't played the whole game yet, but I guess the loading screen left a big impression on her, haha. It was so cute that I just had to share it with you all.
Lastly, here’s a little sneak peek of a cropped image from Sooha's route!!
All the artwork for Sooha's route is officially finished!! There are so many amazing pieces that I'm dying to show you. 🥹 I’ll keep working hard for the next month as well! ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
These are the things I got from the new VIP event. Anyone wanna help a girl out and share the stories 😭😭😭 I need to see them bad. I know the kbtbb fandom is basically dead but I’m hoping for a Hail Mary 😔🙏
(^∇^) Hello! hope you enjoy the scene from the recent VIP room story. Once I read it I wanted to create a small comic of this scene since I found it ver funny and cute.
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I’m losing my goddamn mind right now because I read somewhere that Eisuke was presumably born in 1983…..and that makes a lot of sense because KBTBB and (I think) Eisuke’s first birthday story came out in Japan in 2013 so……that would mean Eisuke is 36 now
If we take everyone’s ages and birthdays into account:
Eisuke: January 11, 1983 (36 in 2019)
Soryu: February 17, 1984 (35 in 2019)
Baba: August 10, 1977 (42 in 2019)
Ota: April 12, 1988 (31 in 2019)
Mamoru: September 21, 1982 (37 in 2019)
Shuichi: June 30, 1981 (38 in 2019)
Luke: November 28, 1979 (40 in 2019)
Hikaru: December 25, 1988 (31 in 2019)
Rhion: July 7, 1988 (31 in 2019)
So that would mean Baba’s the oldest, and Hikaru’s the youngest lmao.
Additionally, I hc MC’s birthday to be on October 9 since KBTBB came out in Japan on October 9, 2013. Since she’s canonically younger than Ota but close in age to him (he’s 24 in S1, and I’m inclined to believe she’s 23), then her birthday could be October 9, 1989
….And even after everything, they’ll physically look the same lmaoooo
Latina!reader x Jack Abbot who didn’t get the whole tortilla thing at first and within six months, he’s always asking reader to go see their mom because he knows he’ll get sent home with a fat stack of homemade tortillas
latina!reader x jack abbot
You guys are all going to hate me because I’m like… the tortilla thing?… Trust, I am Salvadoran and my family loves tortillas but I’m wondering if by the tortilla thing you mean the obsession with them or making them. Bc I’m overthinking it, I decided to include both! The main dish here is also inspired by a typical Salvi breakfast :)
warnings … i mention how someone is eating. idk how triggering that would be. but… in case y’all hate descriptions of eating with hands? idk. also mentions of future family building.
wc … 1.1k
I imagine Jack asking you, Latina reader, why you always have a stack of tortillas in the fridge even if you don't eat them at every meal. He also asks why they have to be a specific kind from a specific store across the city.
“You wouldn’t get it,” you’d tell him when you first started dating. He’d ask you to explain so that he could get it, and you’d end up telling him that they tasted a bit like your mom's, and they were the most delicious in the entire city – especially when they were warm.
He enjoyed the story and agreed that they were tasty, but wasn’t head over heels for them. If you were eating arroz con pollo, carne asada, frijoles con queso y crema, pozole, or some other kind of soup, he would decline your offer of a tortilla.
You’d try to act like that didn’t offend you, even though you wanted to scoff and say, “If you declined that offer in front of my mom, you’d be kicked from the table.”
It went on like this until one day, when you decided to make him a big breakfast – even if it was five p.m. You made fried plantains, refried beans, eggs over medium, sour cream, cheese (queso fresco), a slice of avocado on the side, and a fat pile of warm tortillas in the center of the table.
Jack was extremely surprised and immediately dug in. He did this with a fork, and you had to stop him to inform him that this meal wasn’t really supposed to be eaten with utensils.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Grab a tortilla, rip it apart, and then scoop up the food. It’s like your utensil.”
“What if I don’t want a tortilla?”
You rolled your eyes and grabbed one from the cute tortilla warmer your mom bought you when you moved out of your childhood home. You demonstrated on your plate: you ripped the tortilla, used one corner to scoop up the frijoles, broke open the egg yolk, then dipped it in the sour cream. You handed him a corner of your tortilla and urged him to follow.
He did, even if in such a cautious way that it almost made you cackle, and pushed the food into his mouth. After a minute, he said, “Fuck me, that’s good. These tortillas taste different, though. Did you make them?”
You shook your head. “God, no. My mom. She was in town to visit one of my tias. She brought over some tortillas she made this morning, and I thought it was perfect timing considering the plantains were ripe.”
“Do you think it’s the right time to meet her? I need her to teach me how to make these.”
You introduced Jack to your parents a week later, and your mom immediately started showing him how to make tortillas. They weren’t too good in the beginning.
Well… they were quite terrible. You’d tell him otherwise, but they weren’t ever in a circle, even with the press your mom kept in the pantry when she was too tired to shape them herself.
It would be so funny watching him slap the dough between his hands in his bright purple apron with lace trim. He would diligently watch your mom before copying her. Your mom would look at them, then say, “Me la dejas ahi. Yo la arreglo.”
His Spanish would be mediocre – still trying to learn through Duolingo, even though you told him to delete it – so he’d ask you what she was saying.
“She’s saying to leave it there, and she’ll fix it.”
“¿Salió fea?” he’d ask her, his voice tainted with a bit of sadness. (Did it come out ugly?)
Your mom would laugh and pat his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Así salen cuando estas aprendiendo.” (That's how they come out when you’re learning.)
“That’s how they turn out when you’re learning.”
He’d shrug and then say, “Well then, I’ll keep coming back until I’ve perfected them.”
This turned into a weekly visit to your parents' house, where Jack and your mom would spend a few hours making tortillas. Jack had gotten better over time, and by a year of being official, he had even perfected your mom’s recipe.
He still went over every weekend, though, which deeply confused you. He would also go even when you couldn’t.
There’d probably be a time when you’d be at work, and he’d send you a picture of him and your mom with a plate of food in front of them, a bunch of tortillas at their side.
Jack: Una carne asada con tortillas. (A carne asada with tortillas)
Jack: Made by me. Not the carne asada. The tortillas.
Jack: Will save some for you. Your mom is sending me home with a bunch of food.
You’d laugh and immediately FaceTime him.
“You’re stealing my mom!” you’d tell him.
“I’m learning how to cook for you and our future children.”
“Jack, ya estas pensando en bebes?” you’d gasp out dramatically. (Jack, you’re already thinking about babies?)
“Ya tiene los nombres escogidos, también,” your mom would say in the background. (He already has the names picked out, too.)
“You’re a crazy man. But a good one, too. Thank you for making tortillas for me, baby.”
He’d shrug. “Your mom said she’d teach me how to make pupusas next.”
“¿Y por qué pupusas?” (And why pupusas?)
“Lo llevé a comer conmigo el otro día. Me dijo que quería aprender. ¿Y quién soy yo para decir no?” (I took him out to eat with me the other day. He told me he wanted to learn, and who am I to say no?)
“Alright. If you keep this up, our babies are going to be chunky monkeys.”
“I want them to be chunky,” he’d reply, and it’d earn the biggest cackle from you.
Jack would certainly love to go to your parents' house because he’d get the biggest bags of food to take home. Sure, he’d end up becoming a better cook than you, but your mom would still send him back to your place with a mountain of tortillas, frijoles, cheese, and special sour cream she found while grocery shopping.
Jack would probably be crowned an honorary Latino by the time you got married.
Summary: Everyone at the Pitt is in for a big surprise the day Dennis Whitaker's girlfriend ends up at the Pitt from a kitchen accident, leading to a fun load of mischievous misadventures for everyone involved.
Warnings: fluff!, humor!, Dennis and Reader are the same age, mexican!reader, reader is said to have brown/morena skin tone, mentions of Whitaker's home life, unsupportive family (not Reader's), future angst (with its own warnings!)
Summary: The prequel- the story of how one Dr. Trinity Santos' craving for authentic Mexican food led to Whitaker meeting the love of his life...
Warnings: fluff, Dennis being clueless on Mexican food, mexican!reader, Reader is described as having short, dark layered hair!, Reader is said to have brown/morena skin tone, Dennis is a little grumpy!, love at first sight
Series Masterlist
Whitaker wasn't sure if it was nerves because he was standing in line with a long ass list or he just overstimulated from having been in the Pitt since 6:30 AM and the only reason he was allowed to leave was because Trinity somehow convinced Robby to get Mexican food for the whole staff.
Maybe Robby had finally gotten laid and that's why he let himself be convinced, Whitaker didn't know.
All he knew is his roommate managed to solo volunteer him, threw her keys and Robby's Amex at him with a text to a Mexican restaurant along with a long ass list of food everyone wanted.
Either way, at this current moment, Whitaker had mentally put Trinity and Robby on a shit list.
It didn't help that he had, again, gone through 5 pairs of scrubs and was now wearing the scrubs from the morgue, again.
Mariposas Monarcas, Estilo Michoacan was the restaurant Trinity had sent him to (something about Robby saying it was only place he ordered Mexican food from) and Whitaker couldn't help but take it the scenery with awe.
It was a decent sized restaurant but the decor of the place felt open and inviting: a painted mural of thousands of orange, monarch butterflies flying was on one side of the place with heavy oak tables and chairs, colorful runners and music in Spanish playing.
"Can I help you?"
Whitaker jumped, startled out of his thoughts when he made eye-contact with the owner of the voice and he felt like his whole heart just stopped.
Whitaker was pretty sure he just met the most beautiful woman in his entire life. She had dark, nearly black looking hair that fell just a bit past her shoulders in layers, glowing brown skin and dark eyes that seemed to just sparkle under the lights.
"S-sorry", Whitaker stumbled with a clearing of his throat. "Um, I'm here to put in a big order."
The woman chuckled, "I take it Robby sent you?"
"You know Dr. Robby?" Whitaker asked with a confused tone.
"Your badge says PTMC and that old man is a loyal customer here", she answered, spying the list in his hand. "Here, I can just read the list to save you time."
Whitaker handed it over to her with a small shake of his hand, he spied the perfect manicure on her hands.
Whitaker noticed her name tag and read her name: Y/N.
"So, Dr. Whitaker", the woman began with a small smile as she punched in the large order. "Anything you want to try in particular?"
"Oh, you don't have to call me doctor", Whitaker stammered, "I'm not one yet. I'm still a intern, technically. I got 10 more months until I'm a resident... but um, no. I-I've never tried Mexican food."
She paused in her inputing and looked at him with a perfectly manicured brow.
"Never?"
"I'm from a really, really small town in Nebraska", Whitaker answered with a unsure smile. "Broken Bow. I'm pretty sure it's not even on a map."
She let out a giggle before looking behind him.
"You're lucky you came right before the lunch rush", she answered before disappearing for a minute.
She came out from the kitchen doors carrying a drink, it looked like milk as she slid it to him.
"Here, no charge", she answered, "try it."
She resumed her inputing as Whitaker grabbed it, looking at it and seeing the cinnamon swirling in it before bringing the straw to his mouth and inhaling a sip.
A unique sweetness overtook his tastebuds in a delightful manner.
"Based on your expression, you like it", she said, sliding Robby's card to pay. "It's called horchata, its made with milk, rice and cinnamon. I also took the liberty of adding a little something for you by the way."
Whitaker felt his heart stammering again as she looked at him with those pretty eyes.
His mother had warned him of pretty city girls with pretty eyes.
"My name's Y/N, by the way", Y/N answered with a smirk as she leaned on the counter and slid Robby's card back. "Your food will take about 30-45 minutes with how big it is."
"No rush", Whitaker swallowed.
She handed back his receipt and he went to sit in a available table.
And it was only there that he saw she had written right under it:
Hope this isn't your only time here, Nebraska <3
(XXX) XXX-XXXX
XO, Y/N
Whitaker felt his entire face turn hot and red, and he swallowed his saliva hard as he took a glance at her.
Another customer had approached the counter and was ordering.
Giving him just enough time to discreetly add her number into his phone.
Maybe Trinity wasn't going to be on his shit list after all...
Robby, on the other hand, that was currently debatable right now.
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fluff between miguel and hispanic wife!reader after a long day of working
warnings: a lot of fluff, miguel being extremely clingy, soft, and affectionate. miguel and reader using nicknames in spanish
translations: amor= love
linda= beautiful
no se que haria sin ti= i don't know what i'd do without you
pairing: miguel x reader
summary: comfort cuddles after a rough day at HQ
The sun had long dipped below the New York skyline, leaving a trail of dusky twilight in its wake as Miguel Ohara finally returned home after a grueling day at the Spider-Man headquarters. His suit was crumpled, and his nerves were frayed from dealing with the likes of Miles, Gwen, and Pavitir, who always seemed to have a knack for recklessness that grated on his irritable and obsessive personality.
Miguel trudged through the front door, a sigh escaping his lips as he removed his suit jacket and tie, tossing them carelessly onto a nearby chair. All he wanted was a moment of respite from the chaos of the multiverse. As he made his way into the cozy living room, he was greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly made arepas and a steaming cup of café con leche. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare sight for someone as stern as Miguel.
"[Reader]," he said in a low, gravelly voice as he approached the dining table, where you sat, waiting with a warm blanket draped over your lap and a pair of pajamas neatly folded beside his meal. "You have no idea how much I needed this."
You returned his smile, a knowing glint in your eyes as you patted the empty seat across from you. "Sit down, amor. Tell me about your day."
Miguel obediently settled into the chair, savoring the scent of the comfort food. He took a sip of the rich coffee before launching into a tirade about his day, complaining about the audacious stunts of the other Spider-People. He spoke coolly about their recklessness and how it threatened the fragile balance of the Web of Life and Destiny. With each sentence, you gently stroked his hair and listened with the patience only you could offer.
As the evening wore on, Miguel's irritable facade began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable man beneath. He spoke of the immense pressure he felt as the protector of the Web, and how he was constantly striving for perfection, desperately trying to maintain order and stability in the multiverse. But in your presence, he found solace and a refuge from the storm that raged within him.
After the meal, Miguel led you to their spacious king-size bed, where you both snuggled under the warm blanket. As he held you close, he whispered, "You're my anchor in this chaotic world, linda. No sé que haría sin tí".
You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and murmured soothing words, reminding him that even the most unyielding structures needed moments of softness. As Miguel closed his eyes, finally finding peace in your arms, he knew that no matter how old, irritable, or obsessed he became, your love was the constant he could rely on, a sanctuary in a multiverse of uncertainty.
a/n: thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it. love ya <3 I took a bit of liberty and made the reader Colombian
