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giddyfatherchris · 2 days

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📱skz texts —how they react/comfort you (when you're going through a rough patch with a friend)

| including. bang chan, lee know

warnings. mentions of homophobia, anxiety and depression (but not going in depth with any of these subjects)

a/n. FINALLY!! channie and lee know’s part babyyyy honestly i kept procrastinating but today i decided enough is enough.😤 again, these are not in order but i cannot be 🎶booOoOoOthereeeddd🎶 so :) hope you enjoy mwah xxx

Lee Know

He knew from your texts you were not in your normal state. You were usually such a bubbly person, but when you answered so drily to his questions, he knew something was wrong.

As he waited for you to come home, he couldn't help but pace in his apartment. You weren't living together yet, but you spent so much time at his flat that you claimed it as your second home comfortably. In the 15 minutes it took for you to arrive, Lee Know had prepared himself for many scenarios, but he could have never predicted how you opened harshly the door and slammed it shut. Your ritual of crouching on the floor, calling for his three cats, was brutally ignored as you stomped to the kitchen.

"Hi, baby." He tentatively tried. Cautious, he kept his distance as you grunted in answer. You opened the fridge door, looked for a milli second before you closed it, then repeated the same process with the pantry. You made yourself a glass of water, didn't even take a sip, and grumbled as you looked in front of you, not really seeing anything. You abandoned it on the counter, ready to stomp away, when Lee Know put himself in your trajectory.

"What's going on?"

You would have kept walking if he hadn't grabbed you by the shoulders and blocked you from carrying on.

"Uh?" you looked at him as if you were just now seeing him. "Nothing, something at work, it's enraging."

"Then please tell me so I can know who to kill," he replied in an equally angered tone. His hold on your shoulders tightened slightly at the thought someone had hurt you.

You looked at him, surprised. "What, kill someone?"

"Please, Y/n. I've never seen you like this. I don't know what happened, but for it to put you in that state, I'm guessing it's pretty serious."

He had to pull it out of you, but you finally explained how you discovered one of your coworkers, who you considered a friend, was, in fact, a raging homophobic, queer-hating asshole. When you first heard him comment on someone else wearing a rainbow pin, you had laughed it off, thinking he was being dumb, but he kept adding on, and you realized, horrified, that he was being serious.

Cherry on top, when you told him you were pansexual, he had stared at you with this idiotic air and asked if you were attracted to kitchen appliances. It ended up with you terminating that 'friendship' and leaving the office completely enraged.

Your boyfriend listened carefully to your story. His piercing eyes set on you when he finally stated, "I have no idea how you managed not to smack him in the face."

You let out a dry chuckle, telling the story again only egged you on, and brought up a familiar gloom you hadn't felt in a while. Immediately, he noticed the change in your demeanor, how the burning rage had simmered to a profound sadness. "Hey, it's okay, you can report the bastard, you know. He can't go around saying stuff like that."

You wrapped your arms around your middle, your lower lip softly shaking as you exhaled. "It's been a long time since I've been directly in contact with someone like that. I'm mad at myself for not seeing it maybe others knew, and they considered me badly for hanging out with him. I feel so bad."

He pulled you to him, softly resting his chin on top of your head. "Some people are really good at hiding who they truly are. He never said anything before, you never could have known."

"I know, but I somewhat feel like a traitor to my community," you covered your face with your hands before hiding in his chest. "Is that dumb?"

He softly pushed you back and leveled his gaze with yours. "That is a little dumb because you did not betray your community, okay? You can't betray someone if you've also been fooled. And you know what's the best thing to do now? Report his ass. I'm sure if you do, there will be others who feel comfortable speaking up."

Your eyes lit up at his suggestion. "You're right. I want queer people to feel safe at work. The thought that I might have been seen as someone who would threaten that makes me sick. But if I speak up, that could change. Maybe we could even create a comity to do sensibilization about homophobia in the workplace." The gloom in your eyes was replaced with a fire. "One thing is sure, I won't let it happen again.

He gave you an adorable grin as he softly grabbed your chin. "My little fighter, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes disappeared into a happy smile as you hugged him again. "Thank you for always supporting me, although I am slightly scared of how little it took to convince you to kill someone."

He laughed before grabbing you over his shoulder and whispered with a diabolical expression. "You shouldn't."

Because really, there shouldn't be a doubt in your mind that this man was ready to make anyone who hurt you pay a terrible price.

Bang Chan

The leader rubbed his hands on his face in an attempt to wipe away all the exhaustion. He looked back at his computer screen, feeling a violent cramp in his head causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accords.

"Okay, okay. I get it. No more computer today."

He grabbed his phone before getting up, pleading his eyes to survive one last exposure to the light of a screen. He clicked on your name and quickly typed in, asking you what you wanted to eat for dinner but all signs of fatigue disappeared once he saw your answer. Worry replaced any feelings in his heart, his tired eyes fixed on the device.

What could have happened for you to be so down? He knew you were dealing with a difficult friend lately, but could it have gotten this bad so quickly? He wondered if he should push it, ask you more, but as his eyes started burning again he realized it would probably be of no help and he should wait for you to get home. Chan looked around the apartment, an uneasy feeling in his chest, a restlessness agitating his limbs. You were hurting and he couldn’t stay still, waiting for you to arrive. Then it clicked, he looked at your messages once again, closed the app and started dialing a number he was starting to know very well. As the line rang, a smirk slowly took place on his full lips.

You tiredly entered your apartment, welcomed with a delicious aroma. You kicked your boots off, more than ready to change into comfortable clothes and hug your boyfriend.

Your heart melted at the sight waiting for you in the kitchen. Chan, his sleeve rolled up, showing his strong forearms, was very focused on the pots and pans burbling in front of him. He softly hummed to the soft jazz music playing in the background, completely oblivious to the world around him. You silently walked to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, loving how his strong back felt on your cheek through his clothes.

"Jesus! You scared me," he whined, still, you could hear the smile in his voice as his hands wrapped around yours. "How are you?"

You didn't answer, feeling tears prickling your eyes and that burning sensation in your nose when you knew you were about to cry. You buried your face in his clothes, hoping it would muffle the sound of your sobs.

"Y/n?" he quickly turned around, realizing you were far from okay. "Hey, baby what's going on?"

Violent sobs shook your body as you slid to the floor engulfed in Chan’s reassuring embrace, allowing you to let it all go. Once you calmed down enough to take a big breath, he asked again. "Baby, what happened?"

Softly, he brushed his fingers through your hair. He was a calm and reassuring presence for you in all the chaos. You knew you could trust him, knew you could tell him anything and he would be there for you.

"You know my ´friend’, our relationship was already rocky, I knew that, but I thought it was getting better. When we studied together the other day, we talked so much, about anything and everything and even personal stuff. I thought we were getting over that petty argument, but today I heard them tell other people from my classes how I was faking my anxiety disorder and depression symptoms. They said I only did it to get attention and that I- I was an addict." Your voice broke on the last word, horrified that such words could have come out of their mouth.

Chan had to fight everything in him not to go after them right now. If there was one thing he despised it was when the ones he loved were hurt. He couldn't bear it. He knew how hard it had been for you to get a diagnosis and start taking medication. How could someone be heartless enough to make such comments?

"I heard some of the people in the group defend me, but still... I can't believe it. I'm so stupid, I never should have told them about it."

"Y/n. You are not stupid. They are the assholes. You are not stupid for trusting someone you thought was a friend okay? I don't ever want you to think you are stupid for that."

You looked at him with teary eyes. He felt himself melt and soften, all anger disappearing when he realized how badly you needed him. "You are not stupid. You are not faking anything." he softly stroked your cheeks, wiping away the tears as he did. "I'm so proud of you for reaching out for help. I'm proud of you every damn day, and you know the people who really love you do too." You closed your eyes, relishing in his warm touch, allowing his soft voice to erase every doubt and fear. He softly kissed your forehead, "Okay?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you I don't know what I would do without you."

"You would still do amazing because you are one of the strongest person I've ever met."

You chuckled at his comment. "You're so cheesy. Still, I'm pretty happy to have you." You lifted your head towards the stove. "Especially if you tell me you've been cooking for me." You took a deep breath in, finally registering what it was you were smelling. You looked back at him, already smiling, a look of surprise on your face. "Is- is that my mom’s… How, how did you do it?"

A proud and satisfied expression was printed on his features. "You wanted your mom’s spaghetti so I called and asked her to help me make it. Turns out the recipe isn’t that hard." He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear while you stared at him like he was the most magnificent thing you had ever seen, which he was.

"I can’t believe you did that. My mother has never told anyone her recipe!"

"Yeah, about that. I might have had to make a deal with her to get it…" You rolled your eyes, ready to hear some embarrassing stunt your mother pulled on your boyfriend. "I had to explain why I wanted the recipe, and she might have made me promise we’d go visit your family in two weeks while you’re on spring break."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, asking him a thousand time if he was kidding, if this was really happening, while he promised over and over again it was. You pulled back to look at the satisfied smile growing on his lips. Chan was a sure value in your life, maybe the only true one, and as you looked at him, his dimpled smile and the satisfaction he had in preparing all this for you, you knew this was it. He was everything you would ever need.

#ilya texts fics #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids texts #stray kids #stray kids fic #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han skz #felix skz #seungmin #i.n skz

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beomnoullitheorem · 2 days

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In The Middle Of The Night

𖥔 Non-idol AU — Boyfie!Kai × Girlfie!Reader

𖥔 Appetizer — Your boyfriend gets needy at night, he starts using your cunt. Little does he know, you're awake and you're gonna let him fuck you, even at such an odd hour since you can't resist him.

𖥔 Disclaimer — This is PURE FICTION : Nothing in this work aligns with the idols' character, moral and their real life. The characters are all legal adults (18+) and everything happening around & to them is entirely consensual. Readers are humbly advised to read the Contains and Disclaimer before they read.

𖥔 Word Count — 3.9k+

𖥔 Contains — NSFW content = smut, so MDNI! Submissive!Service-Top!Kai, Soft-Dominant!Reader, Lazy sex ( not really ), SOMNOPHILIA, Unprotected Sex, praise kink, PIV sex, petnames, a little of lovey-dovey sex, implied heavy sleeper reader and pervy!Kai, kisses ( like KISSES ), cock warming ( I mean A LOTS OF IT as Kai stays in her for a long time ), mentions of submissive!Kai and dominant!reader, a little of rough sex, squirting ( ? ), sweet cuddles at end

𖥔 Author's Note — I- I don't know why I got this idea or anything but idea of a reader who gives in any of submissive!Kai's whims and praises him is what that literally encouraged me to write this. I just don't know if people will like this kind of thing.

Kai turns and adjusts. It is still to no avail. He counts numbers, hoping it would all wash away, the sudden insomniac exhilaration rushing through his ( cock ) veins. He wonders how you're so relaxed and so dead to the world, right beside him, which has become a problem for him. Right beside him is not it. Sleeping like that is. Under the dim golden light of the lamp that outlined the white shirt of Kai's you have almost fought him to wear after bathing just because you procrastinated to wear your pieces of garments because the shirt is actually so comfortable than those. The long shirt which reaches below your pelvis, resting lewdly well on your body and hanging till your thighs, a perfect short dress it makes. It is exactly what that's curled up and... I see and feel it all, everyday. But why is her pussy looking so tempting?

The plumpy ass of yours and your freshly bathed velvety pussy are highlighted on display as the shirt slid up in your slumber, so dead to the world as you sleep on your stomach and have parted your legs to your full comfort, turning your back and ass on Kai, and doing a lot of torment to him. What could he do to sleep right now? He was sure, he only meant to adore you. He is sure now, he only wants you to adorably help him with this. The wide-awakened exhilaration is rushing in his cock veins, transforming him into the needy man you always cherish and tend to.

The swarm of dirty and unusual thoughts compel him to wonder if you would notice when he devours a little of your pussy. He sits up and looks at your frame, legs flawlessly split and welcoming his need at this odd hour when the whole world have probably hit the hay or is getting laid. Your hair is a mess, your head turning away from him and yet all the craving he feels, gets him to memorize your lovely figure, sleeping soundly... Shame possesses him for fantasizing so lewdly of your serene, resting figure, but before this shame could possess, his excitement took over him and in the blink of eye, he strips himself off his trousers and oversized black T-shirt.

It will be okay, she'll be asleep and I'll fall asleep once I use it.. she won't notice. It takes a lots of time and persistent nagging in your ears to wake you up. Sleeping is something you have always taken pleasure in, something that gives you beauty and peace. And as time passed by, your slumber has become a hassle for you and everyone around you. It would take numerous alarms at intervals of every 10 - 15 minutes before you could wake up. There are times where you were late to work and events. Your slumber does take you to a dimension where in here, it is completely difficult to wake you up.

'A heavy sleeper' is what he labeled you for your dead antics in your sleep. Kai does what he intends to, his big palms hold your soft, pliant body and turn you over; you're still sleeping on your back as soundly as ever, unfazed with all the movements happening to your body. His hands start working and they knead your thighs, the movements of his hands soothe you more to your sleep but the same hands which traverse to your asleep cunt and clit, his fingers leave trails of feathery touches to your folds and your sensual clit. Goosebumps erupt on your thighs and alerts of greedy and luring soft pinches dancing on your forbidden clit does a little perturbation to your brain. Do his touches not affect you in even in sleep, for your body completely designed to be his, your steady and soft breathing halts and grows heavy and your body experiences the sweating atmosphere leaving you a little breathless in your slumber.

Kai is hypnotized at the way your body pulsates at slight ministrations, he is wholly awestruck. He now harbors no intentions of waking you up but watch you grow hot in sleep at his servicing touches at your clit. He barely presses and toys with the bud and a soft, low whimper echoes from your quiet snores. Kai is utterly smitten and he doesn't intend to stop. His touches, his comforting touch could ship you to the oceans of congenial dreams without bothering you in any discomfort as it is only made to soothe you to your glee and now, his lecherous touch leaving you in borders of consciousness and unconsciousness, the hot air in your room fanning your body and the unholy thoughts creeping in your mind, visualizing a few of dirty scenarios with a blurred man. Kai affects you infectiously. Whines escape your mouth and your slumber is interrupted.

Your eyes wing open and all you wish to do is go back to sleep. That is, until you feel a lots of illegal fingers caressing your entrances as though it were a delicate thing; Kai is completely unaware you're growing conscious as seconds pass by and he bites the bullet as he slips one of his fingers in your dreaming cunt. So warm and semi-wet has it become, Kai's cock starts pulsating from the comfort he is feeling on his fingers. His other hand which owed to tend to your clit starts rubbing the nub, his finger pad moving in circular, the excitement building through the stimulation he is providing clenches your cunt as he drives in another finger in and they devour all the delicious contractions. It is really a wonder to Kai, how you're being so lewd when you're cutely asleep; unaware of your awakeness as he is moving his fingers following the pace of his other hand which is dealing with your clit.

She is so cute like this. Kai's fingers are barely in a pace as they sluggishly pump in short thrusts, with an intention to not wake you up and yet get you wet. Kai has no idea where he's got such boldness from but can't he just enjoy his sleeping girlfriend eho is so sexy asleep? His fingerpads magically transmit a lot of pleasure to your body and your half-awakeness vanishes. Your eyes flutter wide open and you look down to see what's going on between your legs.

Kai is concentrated on stimulating your clit and prepping your cunt which starts moistening as his movements gather a little amount of speed where his hands work perfectly right, for your snoring breath finally turning into a soft whiny one. Kai once again decides to look at your heated state in sleep and your eyes shut asleep the moment his bold yet shy gaze falls on your not so relaxed face secretly. Kai feels too excited within himself for getting to see a salacious sight like this. Something he never dreamed of getting to look at and is he not enticed with every ounce of it, he gulps and gets back to his dirty little errand.

Kai fingers halt when the wetness comes to his fingers while pumping in and out of your pussy as secretly as possible, and his fingers on your clit stop tending to it; your whole breathing steadies when he pulls his fingers out. What he is unknown of is that you're clenching around nothing and awaiting his dick and you're ogling at him as secretly as possible. Kai is naked, just as you ask of him everytime when you both do the nasty. His body, his neck, his heart ( tits ), his innocent yet mischievous face... a smile of wholehearted adoration graces your lips to all of his frame, which Kai couldn't notice as he is jerking off looking at your delicious, welcoming cunt. Closing his eyes and fondling his length while he strokes it as intensely as possible, smearing the pre-cum dripping out of it as he lets out one of the most sinful and low sounds so sincerely at just the moistened sight of your cunt. Kai is hypnotizing, even for you who just woke up and are taking in whatever he bestowed, you let out a few whimpers and wait for him to slide in.

Kai takes one last glimpse at gracious 'asleep' body and aligns his tip along your cunt. A girthy, wet tip prods at your quivering cunt as his cock and he absorb all the trembles that your pussy and your body exude at the intrusion. He sheathes himself as slowly as ever, you cunt embracing his length as if it have waited forever for the warmth of his cock. Kai's finding it hard to not shove into you, a saccharine groan of delight echoes with the same replica leaving out of your mouth with your eyes closed. Kai's swimming in your warmth as he is bottoming out, unwitting that you're whining along with him in sheer delight of getting filled by his stuffing girth. Kai's hands grab your thighs and pull you closer, Kai rolls his eyes back and looks up, exhaling a few moans out. Your pussy probably can not take the desperation, you squeeze him in an attempt to convey that he better start moving through the communication with your pussy. Kai only moans forgetting everything else.

Kai looks at your shirt crumbled up in a mess, he starts unbuttoning the shirt as he hovers over you, and exposing your fresh scented torso and your perky boobs with the soft nipples. His hands grab a handful of your breast and knead them. It is getting harder to contain yourself from the way he hasn't did much but you're dying for more inside. How freaky and exciting did Kai seem for the things he's been doing to you in your sleep, you swear you didn't think it would make you fall for him more. Ugh.. He can't stuff my cunt and play with my tits when I'm dying for him to move.. his hands doing wonders to your boob and nipple, and his still cock, pulsing at your cute, 'unconscious' reactions according to him. This is not getting any better or relieving, the needy anguish in your stomach only begs for more, he best end what he started now.

"You better s-start moving or else no pussy f-from tomorrow."

A throaty croak of a threat shrills out of your mouth for Kai not moving, which trembles him from his head to toe, even his cock is surprised as it twitches, and Kai follows the voice, his eyeballs curve out, his whole face loses its colour in horror. When did she wake up? Was she awake the whole time? Why didn't she make a noise? Why did she decided to tell something now? Will she feel bad when I tried to help myself a little? Will she never forgive me? Kai's throat runs dry and he finds himself at a loss to speak. What should he do at this possible moment? Should he just start fucking or apologize for using your cunt? His Adam's apple bobs at your state– a cheery grin widens your lips the moment you feel him looking at you; your eyelids still droopy, making your marble-like pupils barely visible; they form a crescent from the way you're adoring your boyfriend.

Kai is only scared, ashamed and guilty from the way you smile at his so naively. His face says it all, the sincere mischievousness he has had in himself when he was stimulating you in your sleep has vanished. Kai could ruin the mood and before he could, your hands fly to his cheeks and pull him in a sweet, reassuring kiss. His hot lips meet yours and all the laziness from the sleepiness evaporates at the way they unite with yours and the rush of neediness and exhilaration through your body only heats you up, for your tongue demanding a permission to his lips with an intention to devour his tongue. Kai can barely move a muscle at this kiss, he gives in and lets your tongue in. His tongue follows your movements and tastes you like it is what he knows merely at the way it has grow light headed. You pull away, "It's okay." And smash your lips at his.

Naughty and excited warmth of both love and lust bloom in Kai; the butterflies in his stomach going at carnage, as your mouths move in coordination and your tongues lick eachothers', his hot breath tickles your cheeks as he inclines his head to kiss you deeper, it only makes you breathless and starved. Kai's hand that stood on the bed moves to your cheek, soothing the supple skin and moving down to your jaw, palming your side neck as his fingers lose their sense of location in your hair. The kiss has its own way of working you both to your mutual delight so naturally that you ravish his lips like they own yours and you have to use them full.

What is so much more exciting is that, Kai, is on top– top of you. He insists on being under when you fantasize of him devouring you as you lay under, only for his lips to cast magical kisses at your body and then, your cunt. You yearn to look at his hanging dark hair which brush your skin now, you wish to look at his eyes completely down, locked in yours. This sight of Kai you're picturing, is exactly what that's actualized. But... his kisses, his air, his touch, his sounds transmitted into yours.. they have no buisness in tiring you again, when you're alive and kicking after waking to such a sensual alarm which didn't wish you a good morning but bless such a good cock. His kiss sucks all your strength in as you can't open your eyes at it; the feeling of the kiss still so alive melting all the consciousness in you away.

Kai is short of breath, as he abruptly parts from your lips. He breathes briskly and quietly, his face still inches away and your panting breath combines with his as you finally become aware of how desperately you were sucking his mouth. Though Kai has steadied his breath, it has taken him a brief while to open his eyes and look at you, who is still in an awe as you do not yet open eyes and look at him. It still isn't that easy to open your eyes, his hand rests on your jaw with tickling pressure which doesn't yet give any strength, your closed eyelids twitch and then open, they parade Kai, sweating and red from the heat. His eyes still sift, as they exude a lots of questions. You know exactly what, he's horny and you will help him.

"I can't sleep when your cock is in me, Kai." Your small voice, filled with honeyed tone and breathy words as they escape your mouth so cutely. Kai smiles shyly at your words; a perfect mix of heart and cock warming words. His heart flutters at the way you are not angry at him and let him do whatever he could, completely down bad. As if this is not enough, your hands find his neck and entangle their as your plant a chaste peck on his forehead as you permit him, "You can do whatever, you know right? Use me however, Love." Your smile is graciously infectious, Kai is flustered and is he not whipped, he vows to make you feel good.

His cock pulses inside, excited at the permission. It wouldn't have been so exciting if you were asleep but of course, your moans as your pussy fucks on his dick- he knows that's the best part– to witness you singing in pleasure so mellifluously at his movements. His dick has been in you for a long time, it better start working or Kai might explode. "I'm moving, Y/n," states Kai as he slowly pulls out, the hold on his cock so compact that both of you couldn't hold your moans in. It is leaving your cunt, so lonely it feels inside that you know it through your bones, if he doesn't go back in, you'll be whoring yourself out to him, at this point. Kai, can't be so addictive but he is, you feel it. The way his cock leaves your cunt, it's too painful to have it so empty, the feeling actually making you lose your conscience as you whine as an entitled brat in a demanding way. Kai gets you. Kai can not endure the high, though his cockhead is still in you, he knows he best push inside. Kai's hands slip under your thigh as they grip, the hands perfectly on your thighs and his cock is the next thing pushed inside with the help his hold provides.

Kai's movements are not so perfect but cervix-knocking, everytime he starts pushing in, his cock knocking the breath outside of you. Your body jiggles in unison with his thrusts even when your hands grip the sheets. Strength deserts your whole body at the way Kai is using your pussy, the only movement you know you are able to do is clench on his cock, his heat that transmits in you everytime he pounds in, your body can only take it. "F-Fuck so good, Kai-"

Your little praise does a lot of favour to Kai, his movements quicken and his hips work in such a way his balls slap your ass with such a slick sound, your pussy only making the wet sounds more amiably melodious as Kai's cock collides in it easily as it only pools a lot of slick, leaking fluids. His movements actually grow harder and faster as his cock slips in due to the wetness, Kai can only go along how his cock drives him. He begins to explore your spots angling his cock at different places, as he hits numerous spots. Tears cascade down your cheeks in pleasure at constant pounding on your spots inside, no other surrounding could come to any existence in your eyes. You can only feel Kai inside of you so good that each and have never expected every vein on his feeble, huge cock that weeped for your touch and pussy could have you shedding tears and loud noises from your mouth which you always do, but these noises that shed from your mouth at the way he is fucking into you so carefully, your voice box can only grow sore merely at it; his quest comes to no end, at the way you're crying and begging to not stop; the high so pleasuring and incessant.

Kai's movements do not relent, not even in a tiny bit. Sweat beads form on his head and his voice synchronizes with yours, until he finds your spot and has you clenching and screaming at his accurate thrust. He continually crashes his cock at it so purposely. You are right, having you under is exactly the best thing as he gets to see you cry, beg and moan under him. He should perhaps continue this, though he feels completely abashed, debauched and happy at the way he's getting to fuck you even at such odd hours, so motivated is he for trying so many of new stuff on you. "D-Don't clench like that haah-! I can't l-last more." Kai could barely get this out when he is actually extracting so much noise out of you. You know, you're fucked completely when the pleasure is actually sparking up so much and you pull him in closer using your legs, which only pushes Kai deeper in you. You're trying your best not to clench at him, it's his cock so fat and so good that you can't stop yourself from clenching and feeling him all. Your boyfriend is a freak in the bed, and this fact only makes you clench onto him more. More for release.

Kai's close, as you clench hard at him. He's been with a hard dick for like god knows how long and he could snap at any moment, just like you, who is dangerously close as his thrusts did not just go in and out of you, they explode your mind at each and every one of them, as the room grows hotter and your fingers curl so hard into your palms, digging your nails into your own hold. Your back arches and you could barely even moan properly at Kai's movements getting sloppy and desperate, as the gush of his cum, accumulating in his length to spurt out makes it grow oversensitive as his pace slows and grows sloppy, even that would not stop Kai from getting you to cum as his hands find your clit and you could say 'caress' but his fingers move so quickly on your bud, making you witness electric bolts infront your eyes and make you wail and beg for more and more, clenching around his cock.

He could not take the tight clench of your soft gummy walls kissing at his delicate weeping cock, making him witness stars as his composure weakens at the overwhelming waves of pleasure hitting him as he whines loudly and spurts all his cum inside of you. The warm fluids spill inside of you as his cock buries deep inside and his fingers lose their momentum on your clit, the strong twists and turns in your stomach stop as in some knots snapped, you choke his cock in your cunt, your toes curl and your hands bring in the sheets as your entangled legs push him towards yourself further, a long moan echoes from the core of your voice box and you're creaming his cock followed by a huge splash of your orgasm wrecking you. You're still swimming in that hot, releasing delight, unable to relax as the pleasure still collapses your each vein and cell; you're still in the moment and arched.

Kai falls in love with the quivering torso of yours followed by your orgasm with your face expressioned in overwhelmedness, he looks at you like there is nothing in this world except you. His cock finally softens and he relaxes as he pulls out, his hovers over you as places a soft kiss at your lips and then, forehead. "That was so hot, sweetheart." His gruff voice is toned low as it echoes only in your ears as you relax and open your eyes at his kiss. You smile at him as you pull him in your embrace, Kai loses his balance plops on you. You turn him to side and snuggle in his embrace. Your hand wrap his body and he lets you in; his hands combing your hair in adoration.

"Happy fucking me In The Middle Of The Night?" You shoot a curious look punctuated with a teasing smile creased on your face to which he smiles as in his lips have to form one, when they see yours smiling ( or kissing haha ).

"Very much." Kai pulls the blanket on top of you both as he brings you closer and switches off the lamp. "Let's sleep, Baby."

You rest you head on his hands as you adjust yourself according to that and scoot in his embrace, his hands secure your back and he closes his eyes to sleep. "Good night, Kai," you wish him. "I love you."

"Love you more, darling."

—THE END.

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#txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt x y/n #txt x oc #txt x reader #txt x you #txt fanfic #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka hard hours #hyuka x reader #hyuka smut #huening kai x y/n #huening kai x you #huening kai smut #huening kai x reader #txt imagines #huening kai imagines

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mabaki · 5 months

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He's got a voice in his head... that's his but not his. (Tower of Nightmares era)

Oh, all the things he hears and endures.

I only wanted to do the first panel but then I added more sketches and sometimes I dont know when to call it quits.... until I get lazy LOL

Me: Im gonna draw Lore The Lore: gay LMAO

Without the extra cropping. I mean i might as well, i drew it all out after all LMAO

He's the reason why he can use the vines and Dreamthistles the way he does, but the more Mabaki uses it, the stronger he becomes, at least in terms of influence. And if he wants to, he can take away the ability to control the vines. (Totally didn't hurt someone because of this as Mbk watched, not able to control them at all, no no).

Bonus, he's the reason Mbk didn't fall to Mordremoth.

#gw2 #guildwars2 #guild wars 2 #sylvari #mabaki #my art #when the intrusive thoughts manifest and you got noooo idea its there LMAO #THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG alright me back to work you cant be procrastinating doing this fdlkjsdflsdjf #GOTTA CALL IT QUITS OR ELSE I'LL NEVER FINISH THIIIIS #whatever man its all there now i dont even know look im sorry he's kinda aauuuhhghgh #im shy af boiiiii lmao have fun guessing whats happened #alright im out bye peace adios amigos

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stary-night · 8 months

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Sorting steampunk bands

#steam powered giraffes #the mechanisms #the cog is dead #steampunk #this is what happens when I stay up too late procrastinating my work lol #anyone is free to edit or add on

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notanotherinfjblog · 1 year

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Productivity

ENTJ: Do you know those moments when you’ve got so much to do that you have no idea where to even start and so you start making a list of things that are too unimportant to waste your time on right now? But at the same time you’re wasting time by not working on the things that actually are important. You’re just making lists of all the tiny aspects of your work that you can throw out just to make yourself feel like you’re doing something.

INFJ: No, I don’t know those moments. I’m less productive, you see. When I’m overwhelmed by all the stuff I have to do, I panic and stare at the wall for three hours.

ENTJ: You’ve been doing that a lot lately, haven’t you?

INFJ: ... yes.

#i feel like it has to be said that we only had this conversation because entj didn't have the motivation to work anymore today #so he came to my office to make me procrastinate with him together for an hour and then he left to do the same to our estj co-worker #he's such an idiot i love talking to him #every time i meet another NJ (which happens like once every 100 years) i slightly lose it a little #because talking to someone else with Ni is like suddenly being allowed to breathe #suddenly there's someone who actually speaks your language and there's never just one second of silence because there's so much to say!!#(is that how people with more common functions get to feel frequently? like SPs meeting other SPs? SJs meeting SJs?)#also it's very funny to be on the receiving end of the Ni stare because all of us NJs do that #so whenever you see two (not romantically involved) people just staring at each other's eyes for two hours you've found two NJs #my intj brother has a problem with eye contact actually but he STILL DOES THIS just not when you're looking too #this has nothing to do with the post but you know me #maybe i'll do a more elaborate post about the ni stare at some point #also i'm gonna post the list with the writer interviews very soon took a bit longer than i had anticipated and i still only have one isfp #but oh well what can you do #mbti #mbti conversations #entj #infj

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non-un-topo · 6 months

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"It's not dysphoria" I say as I write an entire assignment on my own invisible queerness and gender identity, and as I feel like tearing my skin off and crawling into a cave forever

#i love that this seems to happen every october sdfghfd #those who have been here long enough know the pattern by now #but what am i gonna do about it? nothing probably. idk maybe something when i'm 45 #i would be more okay with all this if i wasn't fucking 5'1 with the biggest girly baby eyes ever #god when cis people say 'but you're so pretty' all sad like it's a shame i'm not dolling myself up.#maybe i can pass as an 11 year old boy. and maybe passing isn't the point. but i would at least like a CRUMB.#....ah. that's why i'm so messed up rn. probably this assignment / research topic i'm choosing #and also having to keep my partner's transition a secret. it's not hard i just worry that someone in the family will find out #that's probably why i've procrastinated working on this assignment for so long lol. it's too personal.#i also had one of those days yesterday where i felt like everyone was scrutinizing me. and maybe a few old men actually were #but i mean who cares? but still can't queer people just exist without being a spectacle?#without cis people constantly trying to 'figure them out'?

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reallygroovyninja · 8 months

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Coffee and a Danish

The whistle of the kettle pulled Clarke's attention away from the gripping pages of her novel. She had been sitting by the window, lost in the world of fiction, as raindrops pattered rhythmically against the glass. The overcast sky outside cast a moody glow into the room, making it the perfect setting for a day of reading.

Rising from her cozy chair, Clarke padded over to the kitchen. As she poured the steaming water over the tea leaves, she felt a profound sense of contentment. Here, amidst the storm and the comforting scent of brewing tea, reality and fiction beautifully intertwined, offering her an escape from the everyday hustle.

Clarke settled back into the comfortable embrace of her armchair, the ambient light casting a soft glow around her. The room was silent save for the occasional rustle of the pages she turned. In moments like these, she felt a deep appreciation for solitude.

It wasn't just the quiet or the absence of company; it was the space to breathe, to think, to be unapologetically herself. There were no expectations, no roles to play, no judgments. Just Clarke and her thoughts.

She realized that amidst the chaos of life, she had come to cherish these fleeting moments of serenity. It was in this solitude that she rediscovered herself, her passions, and the simple joys of just being.

Clarke’s gaze drifted from the pages of her book to the window beside her. Raindrops splattered against the glass, their trails merging and diverging in a liquid dance. Each drop seemed to tell its own story, racing downwards before being absorbed by another.

She felt torn between two worlds — the rich tapestry of characters bound by duty and honor in her book, and the mesmerizing, transient world of rain outside. The rhythm of the raindrops seemed to sync with the beating of her heart, pulling her into a meditative trance.

For a moment, the book felt heavy in her hands, its weight a symbol of the deep, intricate tales within. But the rain, with its fleeting nature, reminded her of life's ephemeral beauty. Clarke found herself caught in a delicate balance, longing to continue her literary journey, yet equally compelled to lose herself in the simple, hypnotic beauty of the rain.

Clarke's gaze shifted from the rain-soaked windowpane to a familiar figure dashing from a car parked on the street. It was Lexa, her enigmatic neighbor, who was now making a hurried sprint to escape the downpour.

Even in the brief, rain-blurred glimpse, Clarke noticed how Lexa's eyes narrowed in focus, a subtle grace to her movements despite the urgency. They had spoken only briefly in the past—small talk in the hallway, a nod during morning jogs—but Clarke had been intrigued by her from the start.

She remembered Lexa mentioning a girlfriend named Costia in one of their early exchanges. Oddly, Clarke hadn't seen Costia for a few months now, and the absence left her curious. Watching Lexa shake the rain from her coat before disappearing into the building, Clarke contemplated the stories hidden behind closed doors, including her own.

The thought weighed on her as she turned back to her book, but the words on the page suddenly seemed less captivating than the unfolding narratives of real life.

Clarke found her thoughts consumed by the brief image of Lexa running through the rain. The absence of Costia, whom she hadn't seen for months, was particularly puzzling. Had they broken up? Or perhaps Costia was away on a trip or some long-term assignment.

Clarke had noticed Lexa occasionally looked more reserved, her usually sharp gaze seeming distant. But trying to decipher the intricacies of a relationship from mere observations felt like walking through a maze blindfolded.

She pondered if she should ever ask Lexa directly or if it was better left as one of those unspoken curiosities between neighbors. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Clarke tried to refocus on her book, but the characters and their fictional problems seemed pale in comparison to the real-life enigma just a few doors away.

Clarke's eyes glazed over, the world around her blurring as her thoughts ventured elsewhere. In her mind's eye, she and Lexa were seated at a quaint cafe, its windows misted up from the rain pouring outside.

They were tucked into a cozy corner, the ambient light casting a warm glow on their faces. Soft murmurs of conversation, punctuated by gentle laughter, filled the air between them. As they sipped their coffee, the aroma intertwining with the scent of rain, Lexa would break off a piece of a shared danish and offer it to Clarke with a playful grin. The sweetness of the pastry was nothing compared to the shared moment - one of stolen glances, comfortable silences, and a budding connection.

The imagined ambiance was so serene, so perfectly picturesque, that Clarke could almost hear the soft jazz playing in the background, a gentle accompaniment to the rhythm of her heart.

Clarke couldn't quite put her finger on why her daydreams about Lexa so often revolved around a cafe setting. Perhaps it was the intimacy of the small tables, the comforting aroma of coffee, or the simple joy found in shared desserts. Cafes seemed to encapsulate a sense of peace, a slice of normalcy where complex lives could pause and find refuge.

More puzzling was how easily Lexa fit into this imagined sanctuary. In Clarke's mind, they would talk softly, smile warmly, and share unspoken understanding over coffee and a danish, as if the barriers that often divide people could be easily dissolved in such a setting. These recurrent daydreams, always at the same imagined cafe, left Clarke both bewildered and fascinated, like a familiar tune she couldn't quite shake.

Clarke sighed, setting her book down and massaging her temples. It felt odd, this involuntary pull of her thoughts towards her neighbor. They had shared nothing more than fleeting exchanges and polite nods in the hallway, so why was her mind so insistent on crafting these elaborate daydreams about her?

It wasn’t as if they had a deep bond or shared moments of intimacy. Was it simple curiosity, a product of the mysterious allure that Lexa carried, or something more profound that Clarke was reluctant to acknowledge?

She chided herself for allowing her thoughts to wander in such a peculiar direction. After all, they were just neighbors. Still, in the quiet of her room, the ambiguity of her feelings remained, making her question the simplicity of their acquaintance.

With a sigh of resignation, Clarke closed her book, the words on the page no longer holding her interest. Try as she might to immerse herself in the fictional world of her novel, her thoughts persistently strayed towards Lexa.

Every scene, every interaction in the book was overshadowed by the vivid imaginings of encounters with her enigmatic neighbor. The contours of Lexa's face, the timbre of her voice, and their brief conversations played on a loop in Clarke's mind.

It was both unsettling and fascinating how someone she knew so little about could occupy so much of her mental space. Admitting defeat, she set the book aside, surrendering to the pull of her thoughts, which seemed determined to weave stories of their own.

Rising from her chair, Clarke stretched her arms and walked towards the window. She noticed the rain had momentarily ceased, leaving the world outside glistening and renewed. Just then, she spotted Lexa emerging from the building, carrying a box filled with assorted items.

Clarke watched with interest as Lexa made her way to the trashcans near their building and, with a discernible sense of finality, threw the items away. The act seemed laden with significance, though Clarke could only guess at what it meant. Was it simply household clutter being discarded, or perhaps remnants of a past relationship?

The gesture, simple yet mysterious, only deepened Clarke’s curiosity about her neighbor. She found herself pondering the lives lived so close to her own, yet remaining worlds apart—each apartment a microcosm of secrets, dreams, and untold stories.

Clarke remained at her window, transfixed by the sight of Lexa, who stood by the trashcans in silent contemplation. The weight of memories, perhaps, or the resolution of a decision seemed to envelop Lexa. As she turned back towards the building, her gaze inadvertently met Clarke's.

The sudden eye contact, while fleeting, was heavy with unspoken acknowledgment. Lexa, with the corners of her mouth turning upwards ever so slightly, offered Clarke a brief nod and a small smile. It was a simple gesture, yet it resonated deeply within Clarke, as if they had momentarily bridged the distance that had always existed between them. Clarke's heart raced, surprised by the intensity of a connection made in silence, a mere glance speaking volumes more than any words could convey.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Clarke felt herself drawn away from the window and towards her apartment door. It was as if an invisible thread connected her to Lexa, gently tugging at her.

The fleeting moment of shared acknowledgment, that brief nod and smile, had awoken a curiosity, or perhaps a courage, that Clarke hadn't known was there. The rhythmic thudding of her heart echoed her steps as she approached the door.

"Just a casual chat," she told herself, though deep down, she hoped it could be the start of something more meaningful. The door handle felt cold under her grip, and as she opened it, she took a deep breath, hoping to find Lexa in the hallway and seize the opportunity to finally bridge the gap between them.

As Clarke gently swung her door open, she was met with an unexpected sight. Lexa stood mere feet away, in front of her own apartment door, her hand hovering over the doorknob. There was a palpable hesitation in Lexa's posture, a vulnerability that seemed to mirror Clarke's own feelings.

Their eyes met, and for a second, the world seemed to stand still. Both women, caught in their own whirlwind of emotions and uncertainties, now stood facing each other, the silence punctuated only by the distant echoes of the city.

The spontaneity of the moment left them both momentarily speechless, but it also presented a golden opportunity—a chance to move past the pleasantries and superficial exchanges and venture into deeper waters. Clarke took a deep breath, ready to seize the moment and let the conversation flow where it may.

Summoning a courage she didn't know she had, Clarke broke the silence. "Lexa," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? Or tea, if you prefer?" She gestured towards her own apartment, the warm lights from inside spilling into the dimly lit hallway.

It was a simple invitation, yet laden with so many possibilities. Clarke watched Lexa's eyes for a response, hoping that the warmth and genuineness of her offer would resonate with her neighbor. The anticipation in the air was tangible, as both women stood on the precipice of a moment that could transform their relationship from mere acquaintances to something infinitely more profound.

Lexa's eyes met Clarke's, and after what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, her lips curved into a genuine smile. "I'd love a cup of coffee, thank you," she said, her voice carrying a tone of relief and maybe, just maybe, a hint of excitement. As she spoke, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of possibility.

Clarke felt her heart lift, buoyed by the simple affirmation. It was as if the door to her apartment wasn't the only thing opening tonight; another door, one that led to a different kind of space—intimate, personal, and full of potential—had just been unlocked as well.

Once inside Clarke's apartment, Lexa moved to sit at the small dining table, her eyes taking in the cozy, lived-in atmosphere. Books were neatly stacked on shelves, framed artwork adorned the walls, and a soft, ambient light seemed to wrap the room in a warm embrace. It felt like an extension of Clarke herself—welcoming and filled with complexities yet to be discovered.

Meanwhile, Clarke busied herself in the kitchen, the rich aroma of coffee beginning to fill the air as she started the brewing process. The gentle sounds of the coffee maker at work mingled with the residual patter of raindrops outside, creating a backdrop of domestic serenity.

As she prepared the coffee, Clarke couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation; they were no longer just two strangers separated by a hallway, but potential friends sharing a humble yet intimate moment, all thanks to a spontaneous invitation and the magical allure of a warm cup of coffee.

Balancing two steaming mugs of coffee in her hands, Clarke made her way from the kitchen to the table where Lexa was seated. Setting the mugs down, she caught Lexa's eye and asked, "Would you like a danish? I've been experimenting with making pastries and I'd love an honest opinion." Clarke's eyes sparkled with a blend of enthusiasm and mild apprehension. After all, offering something you've made yourself is a kind of vulnerability, an invitation for judgment. But as she spoke, she felt an underlying sense of excitement.

This was more than just a sharing of food and drink; it was an offering of a part of herself, an opening into the personal realm of her own tastes and talents. The coffee, the danish, the comfortable atmosphere—they were all small pieces of a tapestry that Clarke was hesitantly unfurling before Lexa, hoping she'd appreciate the intricate patterns woven into its design.

Lexa's face lit up at Clarke's offer, her eyes meeting Clarke's with evident delight. "I absolutely love danish," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with genuine enthusiasm. "I would be honored to taste yours and give you my honest opinion." Her broad smile seemed to illuminate the room, breaking down whatever invisible barriers remained.

For Clarke, that smile was a seal of approval, an unspoken affirmation that their encounter was about more than just neighborly politeness—it was an opening to a deeper connection, perhaps even a friendship.

Clarke felt a warm sense of validation wash over her, further sweetened by the excitement of sharing something she had created with her own hands. It was a small but significant step, their lives intertwining over cups of coffee and a homemade danish, and Clarke couldn't help but think that it was the beginning of something truly special.

Clarke reached for the freshly baked danish on the counter, placing it delicately onto a plate before setting it in front of Lexa. The golden-brown flaky layers of the pastry glistened under the soft lighting of the room, emitting a warm, inviting aroma.

Lexa's anticipation was palpable; her fingers danced lightly over the plate before picking up the pastry. There was a gleam in her eyes, a mix of excitement and genuine curiosity, as she brought the pastry to her lips. The moment felt suspended in time as she took her first bite, the flaky layers giving way to the soft, creamy filling inside.

Clarke watched intently, her heart fluttering, awaiting Lexa's verdict on her culinary experiment. The room was filled with a blend of tension and anticipation, every second feeling like an hour, every small movement weighted with meaning.

As Lexa chewed, her eyes widened and her expression morphed into one of genuine delight. After swallowing, she looked directly at Clarke and said, "This danish is incredible. Honestly, it's one of the best I've ever had." Her voice was filled with a sincerity that left no room for doubt.

The compliment landed in the room like a triumphant chord, and Clarke felt a warmth surge through her. All the hours of experimentation, the trials and errors, the worry over whether her culinary skills would meet some mark—suddenly, all of it felt validated.

Lexa's praise wasn't just about the pastry; it was a nod to the care and skill Clarke had put into creating it. The words seemed to fortify the connection that was forming between them, giving Clarke a sense of gratification far richer than the most decadent danish. It was as if they had crossed an unspoken boundary, turning a simple act of sharing food into a moment of deep, personal connection.

Lexa looked contemplative for a moment, her gaze settling on the steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "You know," she began, her voice taking on a hint of nostalgia, "I've always wondered who was creating those delightful baking aromas. It's been like this comforting anchor every time I walked through the hallway."

She took a slow sip of her coffee, allowing a beat before continuing, "It's funny. My ex-girlfriend absolutely despised the smell. Said it was too sweet and overpowering. But for me... it always felt like a gentle reminder of home."

The revelation hung in the air between them, offering Clarke a brief insight into Lexa's past dynamics. It was both an intimate share and a testament to the subtle ways in which their lives had been intertwining, even before this evening.

Clarke's lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes locking onto Lexa's with understanding and warmth. "Well, I'm really glad that the aroma brought you some comfort," she said softly. "It's strange, isn't it? How something as simple as the scent of baking can evoke so many emotions and memories. For me, baking has always been a way to relax, to create, to feel connected to home." She paused, letting the words linger. "And knowing it had a positive effect on someone else, even in such a subtle way, makes it all the more special." As Clarke spoke, Lexa's eyes softened, reflecting a shared moment of appreciation for life's small joys and the serendipity that can arise from them.

Lexa paused, her eyes momentarily losing focus as if she were gathering her thoughts from some distant place. "I'm far from home, you know," she finally said, her eyes meeting Clarke's again. "I moved to this city not knowing what to expect, and it's been a whirlwind ever since. But despite the ups and downs, the loneliness, the challenges—I'm really glad I made the move." Her voice was tinged with a sense of revelation, as if the words were not just an admission to Clarke, but also a confirmation to herself.

"It's opened doors for me, broadened my horizons, and led me to experiences and people I would never have encountered otherwise." As she spoke, Lexa looked around Clarke's apartment, and her eyes settled back on Clarke. "Like this moment right now, enjoying a home-baked danish and having a genuine connection. I wouldn't trade it for anything." The sentiment hung in the air, affirming that both women, each far from their roots in their own way, had found something meaningful in this simple encounter.

Clarke simply smiled, absorbing Lexa's words as they floated in the air between them. It was a smile that communicated more than mere politeness or casual acknowledgment; it was a smile of resonance, of understanding the undercurrents that had led both of them to this point in their lives.

In Lexa's honest reflection, Clarke saw pieces of her own journey—the uncertainty of new beginnings, the beauty of unexpected encounters, the invaluable worth of genuine connections. And for that brief moment, words seemed superfluous. The smile said it all: a mutual recognition of the unique paths they had walked, the challenges they'd faced, and the simple, sweet joy of finding something—or someone—worthwhile along the way.

Tilting her head slightly, Clarke's curiosity bubbled to the surface, and she posed a question that had been dancing on the tip of her tongue since their conversation began. "You mentioned being far from home," she began, her voice soft and inquisitive, "and it makes me wonder, what made you decide to come to this city? Out of all the places you could've gone, what drew you here?" There was a genuine interest in her eyes, a desire to understand the deeper layers of Lexa's story. It was as if the walls of the apartment dissolved, and the two were no longer just neighbors across a hallway but kindred spirits eager to unravel the tapestries of each other's lives.

Lexa inhaled deeply, her gaze distant as she traveled back in her memories. "You know, for as long as I can remember, I've felt this pull towards this city," she began, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and nostalgia. "Even when I was a child, before I had any real understanding of what living here would entail, I'd hear stories or see pictures, and something inside me just... resonated. It's hard to explain, but it was as if the city's heartbeat matched my own. Like there was a piece of me already here, waiting for the rest to catch up." She chuckled lightly, her eyes meeting Clarke's once again.

"I know it might sound whimsical, even a bit silly, but I've always believed that certain places, like people, can call out to you. And this city, with all its chaos and beauty, was calling my name." As Lexa shared her story, Clarke could feel the passion and sincerity behind each word, painting a vivid picture of a young girl with dreams as big as skyscrapers, drawn by an inexplicable bond to the place they now called home.

Turning the focus of the conversation, Lexa leaned forward slightly, her interest clearly piqued. "What about you, Clarke? What's your story with this city? Did you move here for work, or..." She let her voice trail off, inviting Clarke to fill in the blanks.

Clarke chuckled softly, touched by Lexa's genuine curiosity. "Actually, I grew up here," she explained, her voice tinged with a warmth that comes from deep-rooted familiarity. "This city, with all its flaws and wonders, has always been home to me. I've seen neighborhoods change, new buildings replace the old, and people come and go. But despite all that, there's a constancy here that I've never felt the need to leave."

As Clarke spoke, her eyes momentarily drifted toward the window, as if trying to capture the essence of the city that lay beyond it. "It's like an old friend that you can always count on, even when everything else is in flux." With that, Lexa nodded, her eyes reflecting an understanding that went beyond the simple geography of their lives.

With a tilt of her head and a genuinely inquisitive look in her eyes, Lexa ventured into more personal territory. "So, Clarke," she began, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee mug, "I've been curious. With all the time you spend baking such delicious pastries, what do you do professionally? What's your day-to-day like here in the city?"

Lexa's question carried with it an underlying respect and intrigue, a genuine interest in understanding more about the woman who sat across from her. Clarke's eyebrows rose slightly in playful surprise, not expecting the topic to shift to her profession, but she welcomed the opportunity to share a glimpse into her world.

Clarke's fingers gently circled the rim of her coffee cup as she spoke, "I'm an author, actually." Lexa's eyes immediately brightened; her interest piqued. "Really? What do you write?" she inquired, genuinely intrigued.

Clarke leaned back, her eyes drifting toward her bookshelf filled with various titles, including her own. "I've penned a few things, but my most well-known work is a series called 'Between Worlds,'" she explained.

Instantly, Lexa's eyes widened in recognition, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. "Wait a minute, that book was turned into a movie, wasn't it? I saw it a few months ago. It was absolutely captivating," Lexa exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement and awe.

Clarke felt a rush of warmth spread through her at Lexa's words, thrilled that her work had reached someone she found herself increasingly interested in. "Yes, that's the one. It's been an incredible journey seeing it go from page to screen," Clarke responded, her eyes meeting Lexa's in a moment of shared understanding and respect.

Lexa leaned back in her chair, a playful smirk forming on her lips as she regarded Clarke with an amused glint in her eyes. "You know," she began, taking a moment to sip her coffee, "I've lived in different places, met all kinds of people, but I never thought I'd find myself living next door to someone famous." Her voice carried a tone of lighthearted jest, but also genuine admiration.

"I mean, here I am, sharing coffee and a danish with the very mind behind a movie I enjoyed. Life is full of surprises." Clarke chuckled, shaking her head in mild embarrassment, appreciating the moment of levity. "Fame is relative," she retorted playfully, "but thank you, Lexa. That's very kind of you to say."

Curious to know more about Lexa, Clarke shifted the focus of their conversation. "So, we've talked about me being an author, but what about you, Lexa? What brought you to this city and what do you do for a living?" Clarke asked, locking eyes with Lexa across the table.

Lexa set her coffee cup down and took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm a psychologist. I moved here to work at the local hospital for my postdoctoral fellowship," she explained, her voice filed with a sense of purpose and dedication.

"Psychology has always fascinated me—the intricacies of the human mind, how people interact, why they do what they do. It felt like a calling, and the fellowship offered the perfect opportunity for specialized training and research. This city has a reputation for excellent healthcare, so it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up." Clarke nodded, intrigued, sensing a deeper layer to Lexa that she was eager to discover.

Clarke leaned back in her chair, the steam from her coffee wafting into the air between them. "You know, beyond writing, I find such joy in cooking. It's my solace, my quiet place," she mused, her eyes reflecting her deep connection with the craft. "What about you, Lexa? What brings you joy outside of your profession?"

Lexa hesitated for a moment, a gentle blush coloring her cheeks. "I've taken up painting recently. I'm no artist," she added with a soft chuckle, "but a few years ago, I was part of a program that used art as a medium to help children cope after tragic events. The process... it resonated with me. Watching those children find a form of expression, a release, in the midst of their pain—it inspired me to try my hand at it. Painting became my own quiet refuge, much like your cooking." Clarke's eyes brightened with a mix of admiration and curiosity, seeing Lexa in an even more multifaceted light.

Clarke looked at Lexa, her eyes shining with curiosity and a newfound admiration. "You know, if you'd be willing, I'd love to see one of your paintings sometime," she said softly, a genuine invitation hanging in the air between them. "There's something incredibly intimate about sharing a piece of your own art—it's like offering a glimpse into your soul. I'd be honored to see what you've created, to understand that part of you a little better." Clarke's voice was tinged with a respectful curiosity, understanding the vulnerability that came with sharing one's art, yet hopeful Lexa would take her up on the offer.

Lexa's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by Clarke's genuine interest. She had always considered her paintings to be deeply personal, a private reflection of her thoughts and feelings. However, there was something in Clarke's demeanor, a genuine warmth and respect, that made her feel at ease. "You'd really want to see them?" Lexa asked, a touch of incredulity in her voice.

After a moment's hesitation, she continued with a soft smile, "I'd love to show you, Clarke. No one has ever expressed such an interest before. It would mean a lot to share that part of myself with someone who appreciates the intimacy of it." The room filled with an atmosphere of anticipation, as a budding bond between the two neighbors grew even stronger.

Clarke caught herself just before the question tumbled out, but curiosity got the better of her. "Did Costia not find it interesting? Your painting, I mean. Did she ever show any interest?" Clarke felt the words leave her lips before she had a chance to fully weigh their implications.

There was a delicate balance in asking about someone's past, particularly when that someone was an ex, but the question was already out in the open. She looked at Lexa, her eyes conveying both curiosity and a hint of cautious sensitivity, hoping she hadn't crossed a line.

Lexa looked down at her coffee cup for a moment, as if contemplating how much to reveal. When she looked back up, her eyes met Clarke's with a quiet, reflective intensity. "Costia was... particular in her interests," she began carefully.

"She was never really captivated by things outside of a certain scope, things that were deeply important to me like my painting, my work, and other passions. She had her own world, and sometimes I wondered if there was truly room for me in it." Lexa's voice was soft, tinged with a melancholy that hinted at a well of deeper, unspoken feelings.

Clarke sensed the emotional weight behind Lexa's words and felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if a layer of distance had been peeled back between them, making room for something more authentic to take root.

Clarke watched as Lexa's eyes dimmed with the weight of memories, the vulnerability in them pulling at her heartstrings. Without thinking, she reached across the table, gently placing her hand on top of Lexa's. The instant their skins met, an unexpected jolt ran through them, akin to a pulse, a palpable current of connection.

Both women looked up, their eyes locking, mirroring the same startled realization. It wasn't just physical warmth; it was as if their souls had briefly brushed against one another, hinting at a depth of connection neither had anticipated. In that fleeting moment, the outside world faded, leaving just the two of them anchored by that single touch.

In that suspended moment, neither Clarke nor Lexa moved. Clarke's hand remained atop Lexa's, each feeling the subtle warmth and pulse beneath their skin. Their eyes were locked in a silent communion, a wordless dialogue that neither had expected but neither seemed eager to break.

It was as if they were both searching for something in the other's gaze, perhaps an explanation for the electric charge that had flowed through them, or maybe a glimpse of some deeper understanding, an emotional resonance that words couldn't adequately express.

Time seemed to slow, and the world beyond the window, the rain, and even the walls of Clarke's apartment, all faded into irrelevance. For those few seconds, all that existed was the space between their eyes and the connection in their touch.

The world seemed to contract, the distance between them dwindling as if guided by an unseen force. Neither was fully aware of initiating the motion, but there they were, drawn inexorably closer to one another. The sounds of the room dimmed, their shared heartbeat taking precedence over all else.

But that initial hesitance melted away when their lips met. An intense torrent of emotions surged through them, feelings so profound and all-encompassing that they felt like they were drowning and being reborn all at once. In that singular moment, everything seemed to click into place.

It wasn’t just attraction or chemistry; it was as if two lost souls had found the missing pieces of themselves in each other. Both felt an overpowering sense of completeness, as though they had been wandering the world in search of something they couldn’t quite define, only to discover it was right in front of them all along.

As they finally pulled apart, both Clarke and Lexa remained silent, still held in the thrall of the emotions that had overtaken them. Words seemed inadequate, unable to capture the magnitude of what they had just experienced.

Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes and found them shining, as if lit by the same internal light that she felt glowing within herself. Without speaking, both women seemed to acknowledge that they had crossed a boundary, ventured into new emotional territory that neither had anticipated but both were reluctant to leave.

In the vast expanse of the universe, where countless stars glitter and galaxies dance, there exists the age-old belief that souls, predestined to unite, will always find their way to each other. Clarke and Lexa's unexpected connection was a testament to this cosmic truth.

Despite the myriad paths and choices that had led them to this point, their souls recognized one another, intertwining seamlessly, as if they had been waiting for this union for lifetimes. And as the evening deepened, casting a blanket of stars across the sky, it was clear that their souls had not just found each other, but had come home.

#coffee and a danish #this is what happens when you are procrastinating #trying to avoid packing for a trip for over a week #this started as a writing exercise #but morphed into a sequel to the #cafe between worlds #its rough #its feels rushed at the end #and generally needs some work #but I am not sure I will ever come back to it again #I am releasing it to frolic in the posts of tumblr #only grammerly and word have seen this before #you can't trust those bitches to beta read lol #5540 words

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