{𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼: 𝓒𝓛𝓞𝓢𝓔𝓓, However I will take requests for any of the anime/clark kent/LAD's fandoms. Just not avatar at the moment since I'm still catching up!}
Welcome! Here you'll find a collection of all my masterlists, organized by fandom! ✨
Genres / Formats I Write: ✧ Fluff (SFW) ✧ Angst ✧ NSFW / Smut ✧ Series ✧ One-shots ✧ Drabbles ✧Dark Romance ✧ Imagines ✧ SMAU (Social Media AUs)
Prompt: Skating date gone wrong. Y/n isn't the only one tumbling!
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Crack!
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Isagi Yoichi
You wobble, arms pinwheeling, before your legs give out and you plop down onto the ice with a loud thunk. “Ow! Okay, I hate skating,” you groan.
Isagi, ever the reliable one, skates toward you with determination in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got you—”
Famous last words. His skate catches on the tip of yours, and he goes flying down beside you in a graceless heap. Now you’re both sitting on the ice, blinking at each other in stunned silence.
Then Isagi bursts out laughing, clutching his side. “H-How did that happen! I’m a soccer pro!”
You shove his shoulder, but you’re laughing too hard to stay annoyed. “Guess we’re a pro at falling.”
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Chigiri Hyoma
You try to copy his smooth glide, but the moment you pick up speed your ankle wobbles and you go down on your hands and knees with a squeak. “Okay-nope! I’m done, I quit.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Chigiri sighs, skating toward you with the kind of effortless grace that makes you want to scream and pull your hair out. How can one look so gracious?
He crouches to help… and then his skate slides out on a glossy patch of ice. He half-splits, flailing for balance, before crashing down beside you with his hair whipping like a shampoo commercial gone wrong.
You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh, but the sight of him grimacing makes it impossible. “Hyoma! That was-pfft-that was so uncool!”
He shoots you a glare, cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t. Tell. Anyone.”
You fall over giggling. “Oh, I definitely will.”
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Reo Mikage
The second you fall, Reo skates up with all the confidence of a knight in shining armor. “Don’t worry, princess, your prince is here.” He offers his hand dramatically.
You take it, expecting him to pull you up like some kind of fairytale scene. Instead, the second he tries to lift you, his skate slides and-
WHAM. You both tumble back down, tangled in a heap on the ice. Reo groans, flat on his back, while you’re lying half across his chest. You both blink up at the ceiling lights before you start wheezing with laughter.
“I was trying to be smooth,” he says, voice muffled against your hair. You grin down at him. “You’re as smooth as sandpaper.”
His laugh echoes across the rink, bright and carefree. “Still better than Nagi.”
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Nagi Seishirō
You’re just starting to get the hang of it when-slip. You crash onto your knees, groaning in pain. “Ow! I hate this stupid sport.”
Nagi glides over, lazily reaching for you. “C’mon. You’re embarrassing me, I’ll help-” But the second he bends, his skate edges too close together, and he slips sideways. He lands flat on his hip right next to you.
Instead of panicking, he just lies there in defeat, staring at the ceiling like it’s all too much effort. “Ugh. Too much work.”
You giggle, poking his side. “We’re supposed to skate, not nap!”
“Same thing,” he mumbles, already closing his eyes like he could actually fall asleep on the ice.
You shake your head, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “Now who’s embarrassing.”
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Rin Itoshi
You wobble once, twice, then your balance gives out and you drop to your butt with a loud thud. “Ow… okay, the ice hates me.”
Rin sighs from across the rink, already skating toward you. “You’re pathetic.” His voice is sharp, but he’s leaning down to grab your arm.
Except the second he bends his knees, his blade nicks a slick patch. His eyes widen momentarily-then bam. He stumbles forward, catching himself with his hands planted either side of you. Now he’s practically caging you in, faces only inches apart.
Your laughter bubbles up immediately. “Rin! Y-you’re supposed to be the pro!”
His ears go red as he mutters, “Shut up,” in the iciest voice possible. But he helps you up anyway, refusing to meet your eyes while you’re still giggling.
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Karasu Tabito
“Careful!” Karasu calls just as you slip. Your arms flail before you land flat on your back, groaning at the ceiling.
Karasu smirks, skating over with a lazy swagger. “What are you doing down there, babe? Trying to create snow angels?” He teases.
He crouches to grab your hand-and immediately tips forward, skidding chest-first onto the ice with a loud grunt. Now he’s sprawled half across you.
You burst out laughing so hard your stomach aches. “Smooth entrance, superstar.”
Karasu props himself up on one elbow, grinning like a fool despite the flush on his cheeks. “See? I just wanted to keep you company down here.”
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Sae Itoshi
You’re concentrating so hard on staying upright that you don’t notice the tiny dip in the ice. Your ankle rolls and you go crashing onto your knees with a squeak. “Ow, ow, ow!”
Sae skates over, all calm composure. “You’re hopeless,” he says, offering you a hand.
You take it, but just as he starts to pull you up, his blade catches and he stumbles forward. The next thing you know, both of you are wobbling like startled penguins, clutching each other desperately as you slide in circles across the rink.
You’re wheezing with laughter, holding onto his jacket. “Sae, you look-pfft-you look ridiculous!”
His jaw tightens, ears faintly pink. “Me?? Look at you!” He argues weakly. Your laughs don’t die as people start to stare.
“Not another word Y/n.” Which only makes you laugh harder.
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Shidou Ryusei
You fall flat on your stomach with an undignified squeal. “Ugh, I can’t do this!”
Shidou’s eyes light up with manic glee. “Hang on, princess, your knight’s comin’ in HOT!” He pushes off with way too much force, barreling toward you like a missile. Shidou knew you’d feel embarrassed and he was racing against the clock to help you.
You sit up just in time to see him lose balance. “Shidou, wai—”
CRASH. He wipes out in spectacular fashion, sliding face-first across the rink until he lands sprawled out beside you, limbs splayed.
You’re doubled over, tears in your eyes from laughing. He props himself up on his elbows, hair sticking out everywhere.
“Worth it,” he says with a crooked grin. “If it makes you laugh like that, I’ll fall a thousand more times.” He’s happy that all the eyes were on him instead of you, making you laugh freely.
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Michael Kaiser
Your legs betray you mid-glide and you slam down onto your backside, wincing. “Ugh, so much for grace.”
“Don’t worry, My Love!” Kaiser crows dramatically, skating toward you like some glorious hero. “Your king has arrive—”
His skate crosses awkwardly, and before he can recover, he goes down in a graceless heap, sliding to a stop right next to you. The whole rink hears the smack as he hits the ice.
You’re wheezing, clutching your sides. “Oh my god-Kaiser! That was the least regal thing I’ve ever seen!”
He groans, hair flopping in his face, before shooting you a pout. “I was supposed to look cool, not like Bambi on ice.”
“You nailed Bambi,” you choke out between laughs.
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Oliver Aiku
You slip on the turn and yelp, landing hard on your knee. “Ouch! I’m suing the rink.”
Aiku chuckles, gliding over with all the swagger in the world. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your strong, handsome man is here to save—”
Before he can finish, his skate snags, and he goes down flat on his back with a whump. The sound echoes and you absolutely lose it, laughing so hard you can barely breathe.
He stares at the ceiling for a beat, groaning. “…Not my best moment.”
You’re still cackling as he sits up, hair sticking up at all angles. “At least we’re equally pathetic,” he admits, grinning sheepishly as he ruffles your hair.
Genre/Warnings: Angst, Fear, Mentions of Y/n in distress, Kaiju No 9 being a menace. **This is a longer Imagine**
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Kafka Hibino (Kaiju No. 8)
The battlefield was already hell-buildings reduced to rubble, the air thick with dust and gunpowder, the sickening screech of lesser Kaiju echoing off the ruins. Kafka was mid-swing, crushing a beast’s skull with his bare fist, when the comms erupted.
“Sir! It’s a diversion-No. 9 isn’t after us-he’s after Y/n!” Reno warns with urgency.
For a heartbeat, Kafka froze. His stomach plummeted, blood running ice cold. No. Not her. Not you. The comms crackled again, urgent and panicked.
“Kafka-I-I see him! He’s coming this way-”
The sound of your ragged breathing filled his ears, and something inside Kafka snapped. He roared, his human voice breaking apart as his body transformed, bones cracking, muscles swelling until Kaiju No. 8 stood where Kafka had been.
The ground split under his first step as he launched forward, every instinct screaming at him to reach you before Kaiju No.9 did.
“Y/N! Hold on-I’m coming!” His monstrous voice boomed across the channel, distorted but desperate.
He ripped through the swarm, claws slashing, explosions rocking the battlefield as debris rained down. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that No. 9 had chosen you-because of him. Because you were close to him.
“Kafka, I don’t think-I don’t think I can outrun him-”
Kafka’s chest burned, a guttural growl tearing free as he ripped another Kaiju apart. His claws shook-not with fatigue, but with fear.
“Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that! I’ll protect you-no matter what it takes!”
His vow wasn’t just words. It was a scream, a promise carved into his very soul.
And as No. 9’s silhouette emerged through the smoke, reaching toward you, Kafka pushed himself harder, reckless, tearing through everything in his way. Because if he was even a second too late-he knew he’d never forgive himself.
Reno Ichikawa
The streets were chaos-smoke rising, buildings collapsing, Kaiju shrieking as the Defense Force pushed back. Reno’s hands were steady as he fired round after round, but the second the comms lit up, his world tilted. Vice Captain Hoshina’s voice rasps with a tinge of fear.
“It’s a setup-No. 9’s not after us-he’s after Y/n!”
Reno froze mid-reload. His pulse spiked so violently it made him nauseous.
“Reno-he’s-he’s coming right for me! I-I can't cover the other corp members-”
The crackle of your voice hit him harder than any explosion. He snapped the cartridge into place with trembling hands, heart hammering in his throat.
“Y/N, MOVE! Get out of there now!” His shout was raw, echoing through the comms as he bolted, gunfire rattling at his sides.
Every corner he turned felt too slow. Every Kaiju in his path was a wall between you and safety, and Reno fought like a man possessed, unloading bullets with reckless precision, chest aching with fear.
“I’m trying to divert him from the team…I can’t-I can’t lose him-he’s too fast-”
“Don’t say that! Just keep talking to me, okay? Don’t you dare stop talking!”
His breath came ragged as he sprinted through smoke and ash, voice breaking over the comms.
“Stay with me-I swear I’ll get there-I’ll cover you, just hang on!”
For years, Reno had dreamed of being strong enough to stand by Kafka’s side. But right now, none of that mattered. He wasn’t fighting as a soldier-he was fighting as someone who couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t exist.
And if Kaiju #9 dared to touch you-Reno would burn himself out, every last drop of strength, even his life, to make sure you lived.
Hoshina Soshiro
The battle was brutal, but for Hoshina, it was just another day with blades in hand. He was grinning as he sliced clean through a Kaiju’s carapace, moving like lightning.
Until the comms crackled with a voice that froze the blood in his veins. Usually he would sigh in annoyance at hearing Narumi’s voice over the comms but this time, he was alert and attentive.
“Shit-Lost Kaiju #9….I don't think he's here for us. He’s heading towards Y/n.”
Hoshina’s smirk vanished. His next swing went wide, landing with unnecessary force as dread slammed into him like a truck.
“Soshiro-he’s-he’s right on me! I can’t-”
“Y/n? Y/n, answer me!” His voice tore through the comms, harsher than anyone had ever heard from him. There was no trace of his usual playfulness-only raw, unfiltered fear.
He pushed harder, legs burning, lungs straining as he ripped through rubble and debris to get to you. His blades whirred and flashed, but even they felt too slow.
“Don’t you dare give up on me, you hear? Just hold out-I’m almost there!”
Your muffled sob through the channel shattered him. Hoshina rarely let anything shake him-he was supposed to be the steady one, the cool-headed one. But now his voice cracked, begging instead of commanding.
“You’ve gotta hang on, sweetheart. Please-just a little longer.”
He didn’t care that the others could hear the tremor in his tone. He didn’t care that his heart was thundering so hard he thought it might burst. All he cared about was the image of you, cornered, No. 9’s shadow swallowing you whole.
And for once, Soshiro Hoshina wasn’t laughing, wasn’t smirking, wasn’t confident.
He was terrified. Because if he was too late-if Kaiju #9 took you-he knew there wouldn’t be a blade sharp enough to cut through that kind of loss.
Gen Narumi
The battlefield was a storm of chaos, but Narumi thrived in storms. His rifle cracked like thunder, his grin sharp even as Kaiju swarmed. He was the Defense Force’s prodigy, the genius-always calm, always in control.
Until the comms erupted with a voice that cut him to the bone. It was Kikoru, and she didn't sound like her usual sharp tongued self. She sounded scared.
“It’s a diversion! Kaiju #9-he’s not after us, he’s after Y/n!”
For a heartbeat, Narumi’s world stopped. His smirk faltered, eyes snapping toward your last known coordinates.
“He’s-he’s on me, I can’t-Narumi-” Your voice cracked. And so did he.
His next shot went wild, teeth gritted as fury and fear crashed over him. He slammed a fresh clip into his rifle, barking into the comms, his voice stripped of its usual lazy confidence.
“Stay alive Y/n, keep fighting. That’s an order.”
But the edge under his command was panic-thick, raw, bleeding through the mask he always wore. He fired recklessly, blowing through lesser Kaiju just to carve a path to you, each explosion rattling his bones.
“Gen-I don’t think I can-” You sounded weak, drained even.
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! You hear me? Don’t you dare!”
His hands trembled on the trigger. His vision blurred-not from smoke, but from the heat stinging his eyes.
“I’m coming for you. I don’t care what it takes-I’ll tear that bastard apart with my bare hands if I have to. You’re not dying here. Not you.”
The words were ragged, unpolished, unguarded. The voice of a man who could lead an army without flinching-but who couldn’t stomach the thought of losing you.
And for the first time, the brilliant, cocky Captain didn’t care about glory, or victory, or reputation.
He cared about one thing only-getting to you before Kaiju #9 could take the only person who ever made him feel whole.
Prompt: Y/n and Blue Lock S/O have an argument, but Y/n gets injured after causing them to panic/worry. (self inflicted Injury/Clumsy Y/n)
Genre/Warnings: Angst (I kinda got carried away with the argument portion) Fluff, Mention of injury.
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Isagi Yoichi
You’re both yelling about tactics - you call him stubborn, he calls you “impossible.” Isagi’s eyes are wide, his tone sharp and accusatory as if you didn't know what you were saying as he held on to everything you said. It infuriated you, how could he be so stubborn? So thick headed? No one else but him could be correct about anything in his eyes.
Finally, you whirl around with a sharp “I’m done talking to you!” and stomp off. Your steps are purposeful, eyes darting for an exit so you could slam it hard.
However…the universe had other plans. Halfway across the hall, you slip on a stray water bottle someone left rolling, arms windmilling in a meek attempt to regain balance only for you to yelp before you thump onto your backside.
Isagi’s anger short-circuits; he’s sprinting to you, babbling, “Y/N! Wait-are you hurt?!” His hands hover uselessly, then finally steady your shoulders. You break out in laughter, the anger fading to amusement as your boyfriend panics over you like a mother bird. Isagi’s ears turn red as he blurts, “I was mad, but I’d never want you hurt… idiot.”
Chigiri Hyoma
You grumble under your breath, what started off as your concern for him pushing himself too much in matches turned into an argument, Chigiri felt as if you don't have faith in his abilities and it triggered the current heated moment between the two of you. “You can't be reckless!-” You try to reason despite how angry you felt.
“You think you know speed? You don’t!” he snaps with finality, hair swishing as he turns away. You huff in annoyance as you too storm off in the opposite direction, ready to end the fight with matched flair.
You try to slam the door behind you, but your thumb gets caught in the frame. Pain shoots up your hand and you let out a scream of pain, instantly going numb with pain.
Chigiri’s eyes widen; fury melts into pale worry as he is by your side within a blink of an eye. He’s instantly kneeling by you, clutching your hand with trembling fingers as he looks it over, cursing under his breath. “Let me see… God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get this far.” His touch is feather-light, his voice shaking more than he’d ever admit.
He tends to your words, apologies after apologies tumble out of his mouth as he refuses to leave your side for the rest of the day.
Reo Mikage
You had enough, you pace around the living room as Reo matches your anger with equally heated glares. Reo had messed up, again. Prioritizing Nagi over you which sets you on edge. It was the 4th time this week and enough was enough.
“You always baby him!” you accuse, voice sharp. He stands and huffs, immediately shooting back, “Because he actually listens! He needs me!!-”. You freeze, you respect and care for the relationship Reo and Nagi had. But you hated how it left you-the girlfriend- on the back burner at times.
That’s it -you spin on your heel, too heated to stay. You manage two steps before you trip over the corner of his ridiculously expensive rug, sprawling face-first onto the floor.
Reo yelps like it happened to him, rushing over in an instant. “Oh my god, are you okay?! That’s cashmere-no, no, you first!” He checks every inch of you, panic battling with guilt. When you glare, he kisses your temple with a sheepish grin. He peppers you with kisses, apologies as if his life depended on it as he graciously lifts you to safety.
“Guess I’ll baby you instead, hm?”
Nagi Seishirō
You came home to his clothes and socks scattered all over the floor. You didn't mind cleaning up after him since this came with living together./ But what had you fuming was the package of wrappers, near the garbage bin! As if he attempted to toss it and never checked to see if he landed the shot due to being immersed in his game.
Leading to the very one sided argument, you expressing your anger and disappointment. Nagi had the audacity to just look up at you with tried eyes.
He yawns mid-argument and it makes you explode. “You never take me seriously!” you shout having had enough as you turn to leave, ready to storm out. Determined to prove your point, you stomp dramatically… right into the edge of the coffee table. Shin meets wood. Pain makes you shriek.
Nagi winces hard, expression snapping into alertness. In a flash he’s suddenly crouched, big hand rubbing your shin gently as worry gnaws at him making him furrow his brows. “Tch… you’re so clumsy.” he mumbles with no bite to the words.
His tone is soft, thumb circling the sore spot. He leans his head against your shoulder, muttering apologies with guilt, “M’sorry…don’t walk away next time… it’s annoying when I can’t catch you.”
Rin Itoshi
“Y/n. thats enough” Rin says sternly having had enough even though you warrant done your piece. Rin had been so hellbent over beating his brother in soccer he's been neglecting you as of late. And apparently bringing that up only caused Rin to bubble with anger.
The argument ends ice-cold - his voice clipped, yours shaking with anger. “Forget it,” you say, storming off. You needed space, air, distance from him-who tore your heart at times.
In your fury, you yank open the door too hard, and defying physics for a bit-the door bounces back, smacking you in the forehead. You yelp in pain, stumbling back as you wince in pain. Muttering curses against the universe for robbing you of your exit.
Rin’s mask cracks the moment he hears your yelp; he’s beside you in two strides, tilting your chin up and checking your forehead with trembling hands. His cold and collected expression-long gone. His frows furrow as he gently caresses the tiny bump forming.
“Idiot… dummy….making me worry” His tone is sharp, but lacks the attitude. He mutters apologies, kissing and pecking your cheeks as he tends to your wound. He refuses to leave your side until you’re okay. Which- thanks to your good luck- is a good couple of days.
Karasu Tabito
You just about had it after the day you had today. You finally decided it time to introduce Karasu to your family. You didn't want to overwhelm him so you started out small. A lunch with you, him and your 3 siblings.
To say it was a decent lunch would be an understatement. The lunch started off fun and easy until Karasu decided to add some jokes-pervy jokes and teases- things that should have been for your ears or your friends (the close ones). Many of the jokes didn't land, which led to now. You are fuming, half in anger and half in embarrassment.
“You always think you’re the funniest guy in the room,” you snap. He smirks, “That’s ‘cause I am.” You storm out before you strangle him.
You nearly collide with a glass door you thought was open. The hollow thunk echoes down the hall. You rub the sore spot as you blush in embarrassment.
Karasu’s laugh dies immediately, eyes widening as he sees what happens in real time. He hurries over, cupping your face with hands that are usually teasing but now trembling. “Damn, babe, you okay? That was… brutal.” He tries to joke, but his eyes are wide with guilt. He kisses the spot softly, murmuring, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”
After many apologies, he promises to leave the pervy jokes exclusively for your ears in the bedroom from now on.
Sae Itoshi
Sae cancelled on yet another date night. The reason this time? He wanted to get his cleats professionally tended too. And he canceled the entire date, for that? Oh no, you weren't having it. Not again, not this time.
The entire argument is a back and forth, though it felt one sided i your end since his responses were short and simple. Not much emotion added. “You’re impossible,” you spit. “Then stop trying,” he retorts, his tone cold and sharp. That’s the last straw-you leave. Or….at least you try too.
As you storm past the kitchen, you brush the counter with intensity, sending a glass toppling. It shatters at your feet, and a shard slices your ankle. You freeze as a choked sob nearly breaks through.
Sae is there in seconds, coldness gone as he crouches in from on you, kneeling and carefully lifting your foot without a word. His jaw clenches, his hand flexing to the point his veins protrude as he grabs a towel from the counter, pressing it to the cut.
“You’re reckless,” he mutters, but his hands are sure and gentle. As he tends to you he apologizes and promises to do better which melts your heart-you haven't seen him this raw and vulnerable. Sae won’t let you walk until he’s positive you’re okay -and he hovers close all night.
Shidou Ryusei
Shidou was a good boyfriend. Crazy, but good. Though, he had a tendency to follow whatever excited him the most. And currently, his new obsession being Sae. You weren’t a jealous person by nature, but you were allowed to have concerns right?
Wrong, the moment you brought it up, Shidou was laughing as if you can said the funniest thing. As if the thought alone was ridiculous to him. Thus totally disregaring your minor insecurity-making you feel small.
The argument spirals fast - he’s grinning the whole time, goading you until you shout, “I’m DONE!” and storm away.
You slam the door so hard a piece of plaster from the frame crumbles and hits you on the head. You hiss and grab your scalp I pain.
Shidou’s grin drops. His sharp eyes fill with worry as he’s on you instantly, wide-eyed, brushing through your hair to check. “Oi, oi, don’t cry, lemme see.” His voice is surprisingly gentle. He examines you, eyes tracing over ever feature with concentration.
When he sees no blood, relief floods his face as he lets out a sigh of relief-then he pulls you into his chest. “Shit, don’t scare me like that, babe. I’ll lose my mind if you break.”
After tending to your wounds he explains that he cannot change his ways- getting excited about soccer and the great players who play- is just apart of who he is.
But he reassures you, you are his main obsession. And that no amount of soccer could bring him the excitement and pleasure you bring him.
Michael Kaiser
You had spent all day cooking for Michael, after his victory yesterday you thought a home cooked meal would be a perfect surprise.
Imagine your anger when he comes hom, already having eaten-when you clearly told him you’d cook today. And to add salt to the would, he sought dinner himself. It wasent even a ‘I got dragged to dinner by friends and I couldn’t say no’ type of situation.
All your hard work. Down the drain.
“You only care about yourself!” you yell. He sneers, “Takes one to know one.” You hurl a glare and stride away.
You slip on a wet patch by the on the kitchen floor near the sink, landing hard on your tailbone. The sound makes him visibility flinch.
Kaiser rushes over, his arrogance wiped clean, crouching by your side with frantic German mutters under his breath. He helps you up carefully, one arm firm around your waist.
“Love…. does it hurt? Look at me.” His teasing tone is gone -only raw concern remains. He is worried and frantic. Pulling you close and carrying you to your shared bedroom where he spills his guts.
With his rough childhood, he always had to fend for himself. ‘Old habits die hard’ he mumbles explaining that he isn’t used to being cared for in such a way, and you being so loving and caring out of your own will.
The night ends with cuddles and apologies as you remind him he should get used to your type of love. Cuz it’s not going anywhere.
Oliver Aiku
It was a beautiful event, everyone came dressed so impress and it was refreshing seeing other plays outside of their sweaty uniforms.
You and Aiku enjoyed the night, sneaking kisses and appetizers with playful giggles. But what totally ruined the night was when two girls came up to compliment Aiku, flirting with him and disregarding you. To your surprise, he flirted back in a joking way. But it still stung.
The ride back home was quite, and when you stepped food into the house the words of anger began. The fight ends with you snapping, “You’re such a flirt!” and him rolling his eyes, saying, “You knew that when you met me.”
You storm off, huffing in anger. In your rush, you stub your toe hard on the doorframe. A strangled yelp escapes you, hopping on one foot.
Aiku’s lazy grin vanishes; he’s instantly at your side, hand on your back, the other holding your hand. “Whoa, hey, easy-lemme see.” He crouches to check your toe, uncharacteristically serious.
“Guess I can’t flirt if you can’t walk, huh?” He kisses your knuckles, making you laugh through the sting, and keeps an arm around you for balance
Genre/Warnings: Romance, Fluff, Slow Burn, Family, Single Parent Focus, Slice-of-Life Moments, Mild Violence, SFW (no spice but kissing, mutual pinning)
Pairings: Superman/Clark Kent x Single Parent Firefighter Y/n
Summary: Superman didn’t expect to hear a six-year-old declare they already had a superhero in their life-that wasn't him.
Word Count: 6.9k
The classroom smelled faintly of crayons, glue, and apple juice - the universal scent of childhood. Tiny paper cutouts of planets dangled from the ceiling, some lopsided where the tape had given up. A mural of finger-painted suns beamed from the wall.
And standing right in the middle of it all was him.
Superman.
Not a poster, not a news clip on TV. The real deal - cape, boots, broad shoulders that nearly brushed the doorframe when he’d ducked inside. The kids had lost their minds when he appeared. Half of them bounced in their seats, the other half craned their necks so far back you’d think they’d topple.
“Alright,” Superman said his voice smooth but carrying enough power that even the wiggliest child stilled. “Your teacher tells me you’ve got questions for me. But fair warning-” He leaned down, stage-whispering as if sharing a great secret. “I can’t reveal my favorite ice cream flavor. Cant have the villains know my weakness!”
The class erupted in giggles.
A boy in the front row immediately shot his hand into the air, bouncing like his arm might detach if he didn’t get called on. “Do you really eat bullets?!”
Superman chuckled. “Eat them? No. I don’t recommend that. But if someone shoots at me, well…” He tapped his chest with one finger. “They usually bounce right off.”
A girl gasped. “Even bazookas?!”
Clark bit his lip, trying not to laugh and instead put on a thoughtful face. “Bazookas make a really loud noise. But yes, even bazookas. Though, between you and me…” He leaned closer lowering his voice again. “I prefer people don’t shoot anything at all. It gets messy.”
More giggles.
A boy with a mop of curly hair raised his hand. “Can you fly to the moon?”
“Absolutely. But you know what’s cooler than the moon?” Superman crouched slightly so he was eye-level with the boy. “The sun. It’s huge, blazing, and full of energy… I’ve flown close enough to feel its heat without getting burned. Like swimming through light itself. You’d love it.”
A collective ‘whoa’ swept the classroom.
“Do you fight aliens?” another child blurted out without raising their hand.
“Sometimes,” Clark admitted fighting a grin. “But not all aliens are bad. Some are just… neighbors who got lost.”
That earned a round of murmurs - kids digesting the idea that aliens weren’t all scary green monsters.
One girl with pigtails piped up tilting her head. “Do you ever get scared?”
That one gave him pause. Clark blinked at her and for a second the noise quieted. Then he smiled softly. “Yes. A lot, actually. Brave doesn’t mean ‘never scared.’ It means doing the right thing even when you are scared.”
The teacher gave him a grateful glance.
Then from the back row, a small hand went up. Slower than the others. Polite and hesitant.
Clark pointed offering his warmest smile. “Yes, you. Go ahead.”
The boy’s voice was steady, though his cheeks flushed. “Um… Superman? My mom’s a superhero too.”
The classroom stilled. A couple of kids giggled, but mostly they turned to look at their fellow classmate curiously.
Clark’s brows rose, interest sparking immediately. He crouched again cape pooling around him. “Is that so? Well, now you’ve got my attention. What’s her superpower?”
The boy sat up straighter, pride radiating from every inch of him. “She fights fires. She saves people even when she’s tired. And… and she makes the best pancakes.” His chin lifted in stubborn certainty. “She’s braver than anyone I know.”
And for a moment, Clark forgot about the cape, the classroom, even the dozens of eyes on him. His chest tightened.
Because he knew that was true. Firefighters ran into danger with no invulnerability, no heat vision, no flight. Just grit and courage.
He put a hand over his heart and bowed his head solemnly. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. Firefighters are superheroes. In fact-” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I think they’re tougher than me. You should be very proud.”
The boy’s smile lit up the room brighter than the sun mural on the wall.
Before moving on, Clark tilted his head curiously. “What’s your name, champ?”
The boy looked like he might levitate out of his chair from joy. “Superman knows my name!” he whisper-yelled, clutching his desk as the kids around him gasped in envy.
Clark chuckled his chest warm. Small moments, he thought. ‘These matter more than the headlines’
The teacher clapped her hands, breaking the spell. “Alright, who’s next? We’ve got time for a few more questions before Superman has to fly back to work.”
“Can you pick up a whole building?”
“What happens if you sneeze?”
“Do you like dogs or cats better?”
And just like that, the lively chaos resumed -children firing questions faster than Clark could answer, their laughter ringing in his ears. But his gaze flickered now and then to Eli in the back, chest puffed with pride.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
The smoke curled like black fists into the night sky, blotting out the stars. Sirens wailed, red and blue light flashing across the street as firefighters hauled hoses and shouted orders. Civilians clustered behind police tape, their voices a frightened murmur.
And Superman landed in the middle of it all.
Boots hit cracked asphalt with a solid thunk. His cape snapped in the gust from the churning flames as he strode toward the inferno, heat licking at his skin.
“Hold it!” a sharp voice cut through the chaos.
He turned, brows raised.
A firefighter in full gear - helmet, mask, soot streaked across her yellow jacket - strode toward him with the confidence of someone used to commanding chaos. She was smaller than him- significantly smaller- but the glare she shot up at him through her mask could have flattened a lesser man.
“You can’t go charging in there,” she barked, blocking his path with one gloved hand pressed firmly against his chest. “The building integrity is compromised. One wrong move and the whole thing comes down.”
Superman blinked, startled. Not many people told him no. Even fewer put a hand on him while doing it.
He smiled, trying for diplomacy. “With respect ma’am, I think I can handle a collapsing building.”
Her eyes narrowed behind the face shield. “With respect Superman-” the way she said it was almost sarcastic, “-I’ve pulled enough bodies out of rubble to know better. You want to help? Fine. Stay put and let my team do their job.”
The words hit harder than any piece of debris could. For a second, Clark almost obeyed out of sheer admiration. But then a scream carried from inside the building - a trapped civilian. And thats all it took for him to make his decision.
He gave her a sheepish and apologetic grin. “I promise, I won’t mess up the foundation.” And before she could stop him, he blurred into motion vanishing into the smoke.
Her muffled groan carried even over the roar of the flames. “Unbelievable.”
Several later, survivors stumbled out into waiting arms. Superman emerged last, cape streaked with ash a limp but breathing man cradled against his chest. He set him gently on the gurney, murmured something to the paramedics, and finally turned toward the firefighters regrouping.
She was there - helmet now tucked under one arm, sweat and soot streaking her skin. The firelight painted her in gold and shadow, every curve of her jaw sharp against the night. With a practiced tug, she pulled the heavy mask down and shook out her hair, damp strands clinging to her temples.
And then Clark saw her.
Really saw her.
For a man who had flown through the Sun's scorching heat and looked down on the Earth from space, nothing- nothing -had ever knocked the air from his lungs like the sight of her face.
Her eyes - beautiful, stead and sharp - locked on him with a fire that rivaled the one they’d just put out. A soft but playful smile tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that said she was already three steps ahead of him. Strong but with warmth just beneath the surface.
His heart exploded.
Beautiful didn’t even begin to cover it. She was breathtaking. Radiant. The kind of beautiful that wasn’t fragile or delicate, but forged in heat and grit and sleepless nights. The kind that could bring a man like him to his knees.
For a moment, Clark forgot how to be Superman. The cape, the emblem, the ash in his hair - it all disappeared under the thunderous realization that he was standing in front of the most extraordinary woman he had ever seen.
She huffed a little laugh the corners of her mouth quirking higher. “Guess I owe you an apology,” she said, voice rough from smoke but carrying that same sharpness as before. “Didn’t mean to snap. Just -when it’s your crew in there, you don’t think about capes and invulnerability. You think about structural collapse and body bags.”
Clark blinked struggling to pull himself together, to say anything that wasn’t the truth blaring inside his chest: ‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.’
Instead, he managed, voice low and reverent, “No apology necessary. You were right. You care about your people. That’s real strength.”
Her lips quirked again, a teasing glint in those dazzling eyes like she knew exactly the effect she had on him. She shifted her helmet under her arm and extended a soot-smudged glove.
“Lieutenant Y/n L/n of the blank Division 7”
The name hit him like a lightning bolt.
L/n?
His mind flashed back to the boy in the classroom, grinning wide.
‘My mom’s a superhero too… She saves people even when she’s tired… Her pancakes are the best…’
Superman’s lips curled slowly into a smile, warmer than the fire’s glow. He took her hand carefully, as if it were something fragile. “Superman,” he said softly though his heart whispered the truth: Eli’s mom. The other superhero.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
Clark pushed his cart down the produce aisle, glasses slipping a little down his nose. He nudged them back up with his thumb, eyeing the stack of apples like they were some great Kryptonian puzzle. Organic? Gala? Honeycrisp? The choices felt almost as overwhelming as space combat.
But none of it was really on his mind.
Because no matter how many times he told himself to focus, his thoughts kept circling back to her. Lieutenant Y/n L/n. The firefighter with fire in her eyes and a smile sharp enough to cut him in half.
He’d met kings. He’d faced gods. He’d flown through galaxies. But nothing compared to the way his heart had detonated when she pulled off that mask. He kept replaying it in his head, like an old record he couldn’t stop spinning.
She was so brave. So steady. So-
“Excuse me!”
A small voice cut into his thoughts. Clark blinked, adjusting his glasses. Down the aisle, a boy stood on tiptoe, reaching desperately toward the highest shelf where a brightly colored box of cereal teetered just out of reach.
Clark’s chest warmed instantly. He knew that voice.
Eli.
In three easy steps, Clark was beside him. “Need a hand there, buddy?”
Eli turned wide-eyed, then grinned shyly. “Yeah, please. My mom says I’m not tall enough yet.”
Clark chuckled, plucking the cereal box from the shelf with ease and handing it down. “Well, even the tallest of us need help sometimes.”
The boy hugged the box to his chest like it was treasure. “Thanks, mister!”
Before Clark could reply, another voice chimed in - this one warm and familiar, laced with that sharp command he remembered from a couple of days ago.
“Eli? Did you find-oh.”
Clark turned.
There she was.
Y/n. Out of uniform this time, in jeans and a cropped sweater, hair pulled back but still rebelliously escaping in a few strands. No soot, no mask - just her. And if she had stolen the air from his lungs that night, now she stole the ground right out from under him.
She gave him a polite apologetic smile. “Sorry, he has a bad habit of trying to climb shelves. Thank you for grabbing that.”
Clark cleared his throat, fighting down the ridiculous flutter in his chest. “No trouble at all. Happy to help.”
Eli bounced on his heels, clutching the cereal box. “Mom! This guy saved me from the shelf!”
Her lips twitched into a soft, tired smile - the same one Eli must’ve been talking about when he’d bragged in class. “Well, then I guess I should be grateful.” She extended a hand, offering it casually. “Y/n L/n.”
Clark swallowed. The name hit him again, sweet and dangerous all at once. He slid his much larger hand into hers, trying to play the part of an ordinary man. “Clark. Clark Kent.”
Her brows lifted slightly in recognition. “The reporter from the Daily Planet?”
He adjusted his glasses, sheepish grin tugging at his mouth and his cheeks growing warm. “Guilty… though I promise I don’t just write about Superman, as everyone seems to think.”
Her laugh was low, surprising him with how much it tugged at his chest. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Clark.”
Eli tugged her sleeve. “Mom, can we get ice cream too? Please?”
She sighed. “Not tonight. We already got cereal.”
Clark crouched slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially toward Eli. “Between you and me… I think ice cream makes a strong case for itself.”
Eli giggled eyes lighting up. “See, Mom? Even he thinks so!”
Y/n gave Clark a look - half stern and half amused. “Thanks for the backup, stranger.”
Clark straightened, smiling softly. “Anytime.”
As they moved on down the aisle, Clark’s heart thudded like a drum. They didn’t know him. Not really. Not the cape, not the symbol.
Just Clark Kent. And for the first time in a long time… he wanted desperately for that to be enough.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
It kept happening.
Not on purpose, Clark swore. But somehow, he kept bumping into them.
First, at the park.
He’d gone there on a rare afternoon off, mainly to read a book on the bench while secretly enjoying the simple sounds of dogs barking and kids laughing. That was when Eli came barreling past, chasing after a runaway soccer ball.
He was up in an instant. Clark caught it easily, plucking it out of the air with one hand. “Lose something?”
Eli skidded to a stop, beaming when he saw him. “Hey! You’re the cereal guy!”
Clark laughed, handing over the ball. “I guess that’s my new title.”
When Y/n jogged over, her cheeks pink from exertion and hair falling into her face, Clark had to remind himself to breathe. She gave him a small, surprised smile. “Clark? Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He shrugged, awkwardly closing his book. “I like the park. Good place to clear your head.”
Y/n tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she watched him. “Why don’t you join us? Eli’s beating me, and I could use someone on my team.”
Clark’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!” His unusually calm day had just skyrocketed and he didn’t even try to hide it.
“Mm,” she hummed, a soft smile tugging at her lips as Eli immediately launched into an animated retelling of his soccer exploits. Clark leaned in just slightly, nodding along, laughing at the right moments, his gaze occasionally flicking to her with that soft, warm intensity that made her heart skip.
Y/n’s chest melted a little at the sight - the way he listened, the way he smiled at Eli, the way he looked at her - though she didn’t let it show. Not much, anyway.
**
The second run-in was at the farmer’s market.
Clark had been sent there to do a fluff piece for the Planet - “Local Produce and Community Spirit” - when he spotted them again near a stall of honey jars and wildflowers.
“Look, Mom!” Eli tugged her sleeve. “It’s the cereal guy again!”
Y/n snorted rolling her eyes affectionately. “You’ve been promoted to a full-blown nickname, I see.”
Clark grinned sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll take it. Better than some of the things Perry White calls me.”
They walked the rows together, Eli bouncing between them like he’d known Clark his whole life. Clark let him try on his press badge, listened intently as he rattled off his favorite snacks, even pretended to be mystified when Eli explained the “very complicated rules” of his favorite board game.
At one point, Eli slipped his hand into Clark’s without hesitation while crossing the street between stalls. Clark’s heart almost gave out on the spot. Y/n noticed, and though she said nothing, her lips twitched like she couldn’t quite hide her smile.
Later, as the market wound down, Clark found himself walking beside Y/n while Eli darted ahead toward a booth giving out free apple slices.
He cleared his throat, nervous in a way that stopping meteors had never made him. “You know… I was wondering. Maybe sometime-when you’re not running into burning buildings or chasing Eli around -you’d like to… grab dinner?”
Her brows rose, and for a second he worried he’d overstepped. But then that soft, mischievous smile appeared - the one that had ruined him the first time he saw it.
“Are you asking me out, Clark Kent?” she teased, voice light but eyes searching.
He ducked his head, glasses sliding down his nose again. “I suppose I am.”
Y/n tilted her head, considering him. Then she reached into her jacket pocket, tugged out a pen, and scribbled a number onto the back of his notebook before tucking it against his chest.
“I would love to Clark,” she said with a soft look that almost had his knees buckling.
Clark stood there, grinning like a fool as Eli came running back with sticky apple-juice fingers and declared loudly, “Mom, can we invite the cereal guy to dinner?!”
Clark’s laugh mingled with hers, warm and unguarded.
And in that moment, in the middle of the market with sunlight glinting off her hair and Eli tugging on his sleeve - Clark Kent realized he wasn’t just falling.
He was already gone.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
Clark had been counting down the hours.
The whole day at the Planet had dragged —-copy edits, coffee runs, Perry yelling about deadlines - but all he could think about was her. Dinner, laughter, the chance to know Lieutenant Y/n L/n outside of fire and the coincidental run ins for the past few months.
So when his phone buzzed that evening, her name lighting the screen his heart leapt.
“Y/n,” he answered, his voice softer than he meant.
There was a pause, then a sigh. “Clark… I’m so sorry.”
Immediately his stomach dropped. “Sorry?”
“About tonight,” she rushed out. “I have to cancel. Eli’s running a fever. He’s miserable, and I can’t leave him with anyone else. I was really looking forward to this, and I feel awful.”
Clark pressed the bridge of his glasses, trying to hide the disappointment that cracked through his chest. But her voice - the guilt in it, the exhaustion - tugged stronger.
“Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “Eli comes first. Always.”
There was silence, like she hadn’t expected him to mean it so simply. “You’re… too good, Kent.”
He chuckled faintly. “I don’t know about that. But… how about this? What if I came to you instead? I can pick up dinner, something Eli might eat. We’ll make it easy.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested, though her voice wavered.
“I know I don’t have to,” he said warmly. “I want to.”
An hour later, she opened the apartment door and just stood there staring.
Clark filled the frame awkwardly, tall, broad and arms juggling takeout bags and a modest bouquet of sunflowers.
“Hi,” he said a sheepish grin tugging his mouth. “I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, but these felt… sunny. Like you.”
Her chest squeezed painfully. She stepped aside, murmuring, “Come in, Kent.”
Inside, Eli was curled up on the couch in his pajamas, cheeks flushed but eyes brightening when he saw Clark.
“The cereal guy!” he croaked happily.
Clark’s heart just about melted. He crouched down, setting the bags aside. “Hey, champ. I brought dinner - and some soup in case you’re hungry later.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Also, I may have smuggled in ice cream.”
Eli giggled, even weak as he was. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Y/n shook her head, but her lips curved despite herself.
Dinner was… easy. Too easy.
They sat on the floor around the coffee table, Eli picking at soup while Clark distracted him with goofy stories about embarrassing things that had happened “in the office.” Y/n caught herself watching Clark more than once - the way his big hands were so careful with every movement, the way his deep laugh filled her living room like it was meant to be.
Afterward, Clark insisted on cleaning up sleeves rolled past his forearms as he moved around her kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, fighting the absurd flutter in her chest.
“You know,” she said teasingly “you’re making it really hard to find flaws here. You’re tall, you’re polite, you do dishes. What’s the catch?”
He glanced over his shoulder, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned. “Catch? I trip over my own feet at least once a day. Does that count?”
She laughed and felt the throb in her heart deepen.
Later, the three of them curled up on the couch for a movie. Eli fell asleep halfway through, small head tipping onto Clark’s shoulder. Clark froze for a moment - as if afraid to move - then let the boy rest, his smile soft and at peace.
Y/n turned her head, watching them in the flickering glow of the TV. Her son - her whole world - tucked against Clark like he belonged there. The sight made her chest ache in ways she didn’t want to name.
When the credits rolled, she quietly eased Eli into her arms and carried him to bed. When she came back, Clark was still on the couch, fiddling with his glasses looking almost nervous.
“I’m sorry tonight wasn’t what you planned,” she said sinking down beside him.
He turned, gaze steady. “Y/n… it was perfect.”
She blinked, surprised. “Perfect?”
Clark nodded, his voice low but sure. “Dinner, laughing with you, getting to know Eli… I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not in the world.”
Her throat tightened. She opened her mouth, closed it then whispered, “You’re going to ruin me, Kent.”
His smile was slow, and tender. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
Y/n realized, sitting there beside him, that the silence wasn’t awkward. It was… charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm.
Clark shifted, turning toward her. The soft lamplight caught his eyes behind the glasses, and she swore they burned brighter than any fire she’d walk through.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Tonight was perfect. Because it was with you.”
Something in her chest cracked. She exhaled, shaky. “Clark…”
The word was barely out before his hand found her cheek, tentative but firm, thumb brushing away a stray eyelash she hadn’t realized had fallen. She leaned into it without meaning to, her pulse hammering. Clarks breath caught as he followed her movements, gaze darkening.
And then he kissed her.
It started gentle - careful, respectful - but the second her lips parted, something in both of them broke loose. The kiss deepened, hungrily, like two people starved for this exact moment. His tongue slid against hers, hot and slick, tasting of the wine they’d shared and something wholly him. She gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer.
Clark groaned - a low, desperate sound - and in one fluid motion he tugged her onto his lap. She straddled him without hesitation, her knees bracketing his hips as their mouths crashed together, messy and wet, lips sliding, teeth clashing in their haste. Saliva slicked the corners of their mouths but neither cared - they couldn’t get enough, couldn’t breathe without each other.
Her hands threaded into his hair, tugging, and he kissed her harder, deeper, his big hands gripping her waist like he never wanted to let go. Heat coiled low between them, dangerous and sweet, and for one reckless heartbeat she wanted to let it devour her.
And then - Clark pulled back.
His forehead rested against hers, breaths ragged, lips swollen and glistening. His voice was hoarse, raw with restraint.
“Thank you… for today.” His thumb traced her jaw. “I should go. Because if I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”
Her chest heaved, desire sparking everywhere his hands had been. But she understood. She swallowed hard, whispering, “Yeah. First date. Modesty and all that.”
He gave her the softest smile, one that was almost boyish despite the fire still burning in his eyes. He pressed a gentler kiss to her forehead - tender, promising - before finally letting her slip from his lap.
As he stood, adjusting his glasses, she realized her lips still tingled, her whole body buzzing like she’d been struck by lightning.
And when the door shut softly behind him, Y/n leaned against it, fingers pressed to her swollen mouth.
God help her.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
The station was unusually quiet.
Y/n sat hunched at her desk, pen scratching across the incident report she was supposed to finish. But the words blurred, her mind betraying her.
Not the call. Not the fire. Not the rescue.
Clark.
Her lips tingled just remembering the way he’d kissed her.They had been dating for a month now but every kiss felt the same, like their first time. The way his hands had gripped her waist, firm but gentle, like she was something precious. The way he’d stopped, breathless and trembling, because he cared too much to push her too far.Everytime.
Her chest ached.
For years, she’d built her world around Eli. Her boy. Her miracle. She’d been so young when she found out she was pregnant terrified and unprepared. The man who should’ve been there, wasn’t. One look at responsibility and he bolted, leaving her with nothing but a heartbeat on an ultrasound and a choice.
She chose Eli. Always Eli.
There were nights she cried, bone-tired and aching, rocking a colicky baby with no one else in the world to lean on. Days when she didn’t know how she’d stretch her paycheck far enough. Times she doubted every decision she’d ever made.
But Eli smiled - big, toothless, radiant, perfection in a bundle- and the world lit up again. He became her reason. Her anchor. Her joy.
And for the longest time, she believed that was enough. That she didn’t need anyone else. That her heart had given all it could.
Until Clark.
The thought of him - his easy laugh, his gentle patience with Eli, the way he always seemed to notice the smallest things - made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t just added to her world. He’d made it brighter.
Her pen stilled on the paper as the realization struck, heavy and terrifying and wonderful.
‘I like him. I really, really like him.’
“L/n.”
She startled, glancing up to find Martinez leaning against the doorframe smirking. “You’ve been staring at that report for ten minutes straight. Didn’t know paperwork was that dreamy.”
Across the room, Davis snorted. “She’s not staring at the report. She’s staring into her feelings.”
“Feelings?” Martinez perked up. “For who?”
Y/n groaned, tossing her pen at him. “Mind your own business.”
“Oh-ho, that’s a guilty face if I’ve ever seen one.” Davis leaned back in his chair grinning. “She’s glowing. You see that? Glowing. Must be some guy.”
“Yeah,” Martinez chimed, grinning wickedly. “Bet it’s that reporter who brought flowers to the last open house.”
Y/n’s ears burned. “I will personally set your lockers on fire if you don’t shut up.”
That just made them laugh harder.
She tried to scowl, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, twitching upward. The idiots weren’t wrong.
Before she could come up with a sharp retort, the station erupted with sound - the shrill, urgent wail of the alarm.
Her heart dropped as the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the intercom.
“Division 7 , respond to active fire. Location: Metropolis General Hospital.”
The teasing evaporated instantly. Boots slammed the floor, helmets snapped into place, and adrenaline surged hot and fast in her veins.
Y/n shoved the report aside and grabbed her gear. Her pulse thundered for a different reason now.
Clark vanished from her mind.
Because right now, lives were on the line.
**
Clark leaned back in his chair, pen tapping lazily against his notebook. He wasn’t really working. Not today.
Jimmy Olsen, on the other hand, was in full “life is falling apart” mode, flopping into the chair across from him. “And then, Lois practically dumped me into a vat of—ugh, you wouldn’t even believe it. And now these girls at the office keep trying to…” He waved dramatically, exasperated.
Clark forced a chuckle, adjusting his glasses. “Jimmy… you know, you don’t really have to tell me all of this.”
Jimmy leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “But you do listen, don’t you? I mean, you’re my friend, right?”
Clark gave him a patient smile. “Of course I am.”
The banter continued - Jimmy ranting about overly flirty interns, Clark giving dry subtle commentary, trying not to roll his eyes, but also making sure Jimmy knew he had a safe space. Clark’s chest was calm, content, the first time all day he’d felt truly at ease.
And then Jimmy froze mid-sentence. His mouth opened, and then closed. He swallowed hard.
“What?” Clark asked, leaning forward.
Jimmy’s eyes widened as he pointed out the window. “Clark… is that… smoke?”
Clark followed the line of his finger, scanning the horizon. His stomach tightened. There, curling above the city lights, was a dark column, twisting into the evening sky. The orange glow at its base was unmistakable.
Fire.
Not just any fire. Fire meant danger. Fire meant people trapped. Fire meant… firefighters.
And fire meant Y/n L/n.
His pulse spiked, and suddenly the Planet office, the reports, the casual banter - it all faded. His chest tightened, muscles tensing. “Jimmy,” he said quietly, eyes locked on the plume. “I have to go.”
Jimmy blinked. “Uh… yeah, okay, Clark. But… you mean…?”
Clark shook his head, voice firm. “No. I mean now. People need help.”
He tugged his jacket on, glasses sliding down his nose just a bit. “Uh… I promised Mrs. Langley I’d check on her cat. You know… very urgent.”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “The cat?”
Clark gave a small, awkward shrug, already moving out of his line of vision. “Yeah… the cat. Very… delicate situation. Don’t wait up, okay?”
And before Jimmy could protest further, Clark Kent was already sliding on his jacket, glasses tipping just so, and moving toward the window like a man whose whole world depended on the next second.
Because out there, somewhere in that blaze, she was fighting for lives.
And he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
**
The moment Superman landed on the street outside Metropolis General, the heat hit him like a physical wall. Flames licked the upper floors, black smoke rolling into the night sky. People screamed, panicked, some trapped in stairwells or elevators, others frozen in fear on the sidewalks below.
Davis and Martinez were already there, coordinating evacuations.
“Superman!” Davis shouted over the roar. “Gas line blew. Explosions likely if-”
Clark cut him off with a quick nod scanning the building. “Where’s Lieutenant Y/n?” His heart thumped fast and uneven.
Martinez swallowed, his face pale. “She’s inside. Second floor. Helping patients evacuate.”
Clark’s jaw tightened. Inside. Heat, smoke, flames. People in danger. And she was right in the middle of it.
He launched skyward in a blur of blue and red, breaking through the smoke and glass as he zoomed into the building. Heat seared his skin, but he barely felt it. Adrenaline took over.
Rooms blurred as he moved - one second, he was lifting a stretcher through a wall, the next, catching a terrified child who’d fallen from a fire escape. Each rescue, each gasp of relief, tore at him because he was also scanning for her.
And then he saw her.
Lieutenant Y/n L/n, helmet off, soot-streaked hair plastered to her forehead, crouched over a small child. Flames licked the hallway behind her. Her fire-resistant gear had caught part of a collapsing beam, pinning her leg against the beam.
“Superman!” she yelled, eyes wide as she noticed him adrenaline lacing her voice. “Take the kid and go!”
He froze for half a heartbeat, heart pounding. “I’m not leaving you!”
Her glare could’ve leveled a city block. “You save lives! Save the child!”
Clark’s chest tightened, breath catching. ‘God, I love her.’ His mind screamed it even as his body obeyed the instinct to rescue. ‘So stubborn….so fearless….I haven't even told her yet’
His stomach dropped as it felt like the world around them slowed down. ‘I can't lose her. Not like this. Not now. Not when I haven’t told her how much I love her.’
He swallowed, voice barely steady. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, promising even as panic clawed at his chest.
She gave the faintest smile, half amused, half exasperated, knowing he probably wouldn’t make it in a second. “Yeah… you will,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his as he disappeared into the smoke.
The fire roared, flames snapping hungrily around her. Smoke stung her eyes, her breath came in short, harsh gasps, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to let it defeat her. She could feel it - Superman was coming back for her. Right?
And she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Superman appeared in a streak of blue and red, slicing through the smoke like a comet. Y/n’s head snapped up, eyes wide. She blinked, disbelief mingling with adrenaline.
“Superman?!” she gasped, her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.
He landed near her just as the beam pinned her leg against the crumbling floor. The heat was intense, smoke swirling thick around them.
“Y/n! Move!” Superman shouted, reaching for her.
“I… I can’t—” she stammered, trying to push the beam herself, teeth gritted against pain. “T-The ground is unstable. It’ll cave any second! Go without me!” Y/n gasps defeated.
His jaw tightened, the first flicker of anger in his expression. “What about Eli?” he barked voice sharp and desperate.
Her head snapped toward him. “What?”
His eyes blazed. “Your son! You think I’m going to let you get hurt when he’s out there, counting on you? You are his superhero, you can't go down like this!!”
Her breath hitched as realization slammed into her like a freight train. Glasses. Big blue eyes. Gentle smile. That voice. The way he knew Eli.
“Oh my God…” she whispered, heart thundering. “Clark…”
Superman didn’t hesitate. He grasped the beam lifting it with a strength that bent steel and tore splinters from the floor. Y/n gritted her teeth but couldn’t stop trembling, awe and fear coursing through her.Then she felt it, the ground under her crumbling.
“Clark, save yourself!” she yelled, stubborn as ever.
“I’m not leaving you!” he shouted back, voice raw with desperation. “I can’t! I-I love you! Not like this. Not when I haven’t properly told you yet!”
Her chest constricted. The words, the heat in his eyes and the raw emotion.
Her lips parted, stunned, heart thundering. “You… you”
He barely had time to look at her before the floor beneath them groaned ominously. Splinters and debris rained down as the building threatened to give way.
With a surge, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, the beam dropping behind them with a deafening crash. He flew out of there as the flames and smoke roared below. Landing with swiftness on a rooftop across the street.
He set her down gently, still holding her close. “Are you okay?” His voice was fierce, almost pleading. As if silently praying that she didn't have a single scratch on her.
Y/n nodded, breathless hands brushing soot from his suit. “I… I am. Thanks to you.”
Clark held Y/n firmly in his arms, chest pressed to hers, heart pounding like a drum in his ears. Eyes focused on her.
“Clark… I-”
“I know,” he interrupted gently, cupping her face with both hands thumbs brushing her cheeks. His touch was grounding, urgent and desperate to make sure she was real. ‘You’re alive. You’re here.’
Her gaze met his, searching, and then softened. “It’s… really you.”
Clark swallowed hard, voice low and hoarse. “Yes. It’s me….. I’m Superman. I’m sorry I didn't tell you sooner…. And I… I’ve loved you, Y/n. From the very first time I saw you. Brave, stubborn, fearless… even when you made me want to pull my hair out.”
Her lips trembled into a soft smile.
“And I’ve loved Eli too,” he continued, voice cracking slightly, fingers tracing her jawline like he needed to memorize every line, every curve. “Your son… your life… you two are my world. And I can’t… I won’t… I can’t lose you.”
A tender silence followed, stretching impossibly long, and it drove Clark insane. His chest tightened, heart hammering. “Y/n… please… say something,” he begged, raw and vulnerable, voice breaking under the weight of his emotions.
Y/n’s chest tightened. She reached up, letting her hands rest on his forearms, gripping them, grounding herself. “Clark… I… I love you too. And I’ve… I’ve been scared to let anyone in, for so long. I raised Eli alone… I struggled. I thought I’d never meet someone who could… who could care, really care about us both.”
His thumb brushed across her lips. “I do. I’ve always cared. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She swallowed tears prickling her eyes, and whispered, “You… make me feel like I can breathe again. Like… life can be bigger than just surviving.”
Clark leaned down slowly, pressing his forehead to hers. “Then let me show you, every day.”
And then, lips met.
Soft, slow at first, savoring the moment. Then deep, urgent, filled with all the longing, fear, and love that had been building for months. Their mouths molded together perfectly - storybook fairytale, like everything in the world had narrowed down to just that kiss.
His hands cradled her face, fingers threading through her hair, grounding himself in the fact that she was alive, breathing and safe in his arms. She clung to him in return, hips pressing, hearts thundering in unison, the world outside disappearing.
When they finally parted, gasping softly, Clark’s eyes gleamed, soot on their skin, but their eyes were locked and unbreakable.
She pulled back slightly, brushing soot and sweat from her face, and shook her head in disbelief, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”
Clark blinked, cocking his head. “Me? Ridiculous? I just-”
“No, listen,” she interrupted, laughing softly her chest still racing. “How can you- Clark, the soft, fumbling, adorable boyfriend who can barely carry all the groceries in one trip-be… Superman? The guy who just ripped a beam off a collapsing floor like it was a stick? The one who shows up in a blaze like some kind of… menace at my work?”
Clark grinned sheepishly, a little embarrassed but still glowing. “Well… I guess I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Yeah… a few. And you still make me want to punch you and hug you at the same time.”
He chuckled, caressing her cheeks. “I’ll take that as a win.”
Her laugh faded into a soft smile, and Clark felt a warmth in his chest that no fire could match.
“You know… when I first visited Eli’s classroom as Superman, he said something I’ll never forget,” Clark murmured, voice soft, teasing. “He said his mom was a superhero.”
Y/n blinked, touched as her cheeks heat up.
Clark leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers again, voice soft and loving. “I told him I agreed. And when i met you..i realized just how accurate he was. Strong, smart… brave. And also… my favorite superhero.”
She laughed, leaning into him. “Eli’s going to love that.”
“And I’ll make sure he knows,” Clark said, grinning. “Because it’s true. You’re amazing. Both of you.”
She rested her head against his chest, the city around them still burning, but for the first time, she felt completely safe, completely home.
Clark’s arm tightened around her shoulder, voice low, teasing. “Though I have to admit… I’m a little jealous of you. You're Eli’s number one hero…not me.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmured, looking up at him with that mischievous smile he loved. “There’s plenty of superheroing to go around.”
He laughed, brushing a thumb against her lower lip. “Good. Because I'm competitive.”
And for the first time in a long while, with smoke still curling around the city but hearts tethered together above the chaos, they both believed it.
Love. Family. Home.
And it was theirs.
A/N: Thank you so much for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed the fic-I had the absolute best time writing it. I know it was a bit long, so major kudos if you stuck with me through it all! 🥹💖
And… if anyone is interested in a Spicy/NSFW Part Two, let me know! I would love to dive into some more romantic… and steamy… adventures with Clark, Y/n!! 😉🔥
Prompt: Y/n patches up their injuries after a Kaiju battle.
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of injury.
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Kafka Hibino
Kafka sits on the edge of a cot, his forearm bleeding lightly. He tries to brush it off with a sheepish smile, but flinches as you press disinfectant to the wound. Your
“Ow-! Okay, okay, I’m fine, Y/n. Don’t look at me like that. It’s just… a flesh wound!”
After a quiet pause, he sighs. “…Thanks, though. You’re always the first person I see after the worst of it. Makes coming back in one piece feel worth it.”. Your heart flutters as you shyly tell him to shut up, despite your pink cheeks.
He looks down at your hands, almost shy under your touch, though the grin never leaves his face.
Reno Ichikawa
Reno leans stiffly against a chair, shirt off so you can wrap his ribs. His face is flushed, a mix of embarrassment and the lingering pain from battle.
“Y-you don’t have to be this careful, you know! I can handle a little pain,” he mutters, wincing as you tighten the bandage. “You wouldn't even be in pain if you were more careful” you say with a hint of concern that makes him falter.
After a moment, his voice softens. “…Still, I’m glad it’s you patching me up. If it were anyone else, I’d probably just pretend I was fine.”
He avoids your gaze briefly, but you catch the warmth in his eyes before he looks away.
Soushirou Hoshina
Hoshina leans back, trying to act casual as you clean the slice along his collarbone. His easy grin doesn’t falter, but a sharp breath escapes him when you press too firmly. You pout a bit trying the lighten your touch.
“Heh, you’ve got good hands. Better than half the squad’s medics, I swear.”
With a teasing smirk, he adds, “Careful now, Y/n… if you keep takin’ care of me like this, I might start gettin’ spoiled.”
Though he teases, his gaze lingers on you longer than usual, softening for just a moment.
Gen Narumi
Gen lounges with his usual cocky grin, shirt half-off, as you dab antiseptic onto a deep cut along his shoulder. He watches your focus with sharp, playful eyes. Your brows are furrowed as you notice how he acts as if this was nothing, a quality you loved and hated about him.
“Heh, you’re gentle. Most medics just slap on a bandage and call it a day.”
Then, leaning closer with a sharper grin: “…Careful, Y/n. If you keep treating me this nicely, I might start getting into fights just to see you fuss over me.”
Even in jest, there’s a spark in his eyes - part challenge and part genuine appreciation.
Prompt: Their reactions when Y/n gets stuck in an S-rank dungeon
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Dark-ish themes for Jinwoo?
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Sung Jinwoo
Jinwoo has faced death more times than most hunters could count, but nothing tears into him more than the thought of you being trapped inside a sudden S-rank dungeon. The shadows around him stir restlessly, mirroring his rage and panic. Some even leak through, fully manifesting behind him ready to follow their king's command. Jinwoo’s usually calm composure cracks, his voice sharp and desperate as he storms toward the gate. He wouldn't even regard the guild member who instead that breathing the gate would prove futile.
“Move. Now. If you try to stop me, I’ll crush the gate myself.”
“Y/n… just hold on. I swear to you, no dungeon will take you from me.”
His shadows ripple and spread like wildfire, ready to tear apart everything in their path until you’re safe.
Beak Yoonho
Baek Yoonho’s instincts as a beast-type hunter flare instantly-his claws practically dig into his palms as his eyes flash gold. His usually level-headed demeanor is gone, replaced with the animalistic urge to rip the dungeon apart to find you. He cannot fathom another loss, especially you-who meant more to him then himself.
“If that gate closes before we get them out, I’ll rip it to shreds with my bare hands!”
“Y/n, damn it-don’t you dare die in there. You promised me.”
His breathing is heavy, his voice more growl than words, a hunter on the edge of losing all reason.
Choi Jong-In
The Flame of Korea’s hunters-calm, rational, always composed. But when it’s you in danger? The fire in his veins burns hotter than ever. His entire body radiates heat, enough that the other guild members hesitate to get too close. His leadership falters for once, emotion breaking through. His face may hold a calm smile, but that's all a facade.
“Who let them go in there?! Tell me right now before I burn this place down.”
“Stay alive, Y/n. Just stay alive until I reach you.”
The calm strategist is gone-replaced by a man willing to scorch the entire dungeon to ash if that’s what it takes to bring you back.
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, NSFW Themes (MDNI). ⚠️All Characters are Aged Up⚠️
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Tanjiro Kamado – The Respectful One
You told Tanjiro about the ban with a serious expression, and his face immediately softened. “Ah… I see. You must have a reason,” he said gently, rubbing the back of his neck. Half because he felt flustered by the topic and half in embarrassment-his own embarrassment in realizing how this ban would be devastating to hom due to how much he wants you all the time.
Tanjiro respected you so much it almost hurt. He never pressed, never complained the next couple of days, though his lingering glances and the way he swallowed hard whenever you touched him gave him away. He almost seemed to hold his breath around you, as if worried that your scent alone would have him break.
Lying side by side one night, he shifted closer but didn’t cross the line.
“I’ll wait as long as you need,” he whispered, voice full of sincerity. “But… please don’t be upset if I look at you like I can’t breathe without you. Because that’s how I feel.” and with that, you crumbled. How could you deny such a respectful and loving man?
Out of everyone, he lasted - painfully long - but every brush of your fingers had him clenching his jaw, fighting back need with pure willpower.
Zenitsu Agatsuma – The Needy One
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!” Zenitsu practically wailed, collapsing to his knees the moment you said it. He was prepared to beg till you took it back. He didn't care if he looked pathetic- your touch is what drove him to even function on a daily basis. “Y/n, you’re going to kill me! Do you want me to suffer?!”
The first night of the ban, he clung to your waist like a koala. You were doing the ban for fun, and seeing him break so easily was entertaining.
“You don’t understand, I’ll die! My heart-it’s already breaking-look, look it’s pounding out of my chest!” He pressed your hand to his chest for proof, face red and desperate.
You nudge him off gently with your teasing smile, and he groaned dramatically. “Fine! Fine, I’ll respect it. But just know… if I explode from holding back, it’s your fault!”
Spoiler: he didn’t last even two days before begging enough to make you crumble.
Kyojuro Rengoku – The Honorable Challenger
When you announced the ban, Rengoku slammed his hands on the table and exclaimed: “VERY WELL! If that is your wish, Y/n, I SHALL ENDURE!”. He announced with a bright smile, catching you off guard. He didn't seem the least bit discouraged or bummed out. With his bright grin he promised to abide by the ban.
And he did - loudly, with speeches about perseverance, honor, and “testing the flames of his resolve.” He wore his struggle like a badge, determined to last longer than anyone else could.
But when he thought you were asleep, his voice dropped, a rare softness escaping him. He would press against your back, inhaling your scent as if that was enough sustenance for the meantime.
“Still… it is so difficult not to touch what I love most.” His large hand hovered over your waist, trembling with restraint.
He lasted a long time, but every second was a battle he fought with fiery intensity. And when you lifted the ban, he was handsomely rewarded for his efforts!
Giyuu Tomioka – The Quietly Suffering One
He stiffened once you explained the ban, it sounded like a ban specifically designed and curated to tortoise him, he noted. Giyuu didn’t argue. He simply nodded when you told him, eyes unreadable.
“Alright,” he said flatly, though his ears betrayed a faint pink. He always had a shyness towards the intimate parts of your relationship with him, the topics would get a raise out of him. And now he worries about how it’ll be like to be deprived of such acts.
At first, you thought he didn’t care. But the silence between you at night grew heavy and charged with tension. When you brushed his hand accidentally, his breath hitched so sharply it startled you.
“You make this… difficult,” he admitted quietly one evening, staring at the floor. “But… I don’t want to disrespect you.”
He lasted the longest - painfully quiet, restraining himself to the point of agony - but when the ban ended, the floodgates opened in ways you didn’t expect from him.
Sanemi Shinazugawa – The Testy One
He stopped his training the moment the words came out of your mouth, the dummy hanging by a thread at his brutal regime from earlier. “The hell do you mean, a ban?” Sanemi’s voice was sharp, his scarred brow furrowing. “You think you can just cut me off like that?”
After explaining how you wanted to focus on your own training and needed radio silence for a bit, he reluctantly agreed. However, the glare he threw your way was a strong indication he wasn't going to like it one bit.
He was aggressive about it, not because he didn’t care, but because the frustration burned him alive. He paced, snapped, slammed doors - all thinly veiled reactions to being denied. The other corp members actively avoided him- not that they didn't before- but more so now. No one could breathe near him due to his pent up tension.
One night, he pinned you against the wall after you came back from late night training, lips hovering over yours. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he growled. “Watching me go crazy.”
You only smirked, the rush of seeing such a strong and prideful man crumble was indeed fun to watch, and he cursed under his breath pulling away before he broke the rule.
He lasted… barely. And only because he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him crack first.
Obanai Iguro – The One Who Turns It Into a Game
You found him perched on a tree trunk in the middle of his estate as he watched Rengoku and Muichiro spar not too far away. You approach him with a soft smile-a stark contrast to the heavy words you were about to drop on the unsuspecting Hashira. Obanai tilted his head when you announced the ban, mismatched eyes glinting.
“Interesting. So it’s a test of will, then?” You flush, you hadn't expected him to take it so…easily or lightly. You wanted to prank him, but he took your word for it immediately.
Unlike the others, he didn’t complain. Instead, he played it like a game - brushing your skin purposely during meetings, leaning close enough to make your breath hitch when training with you and even whispering filthy things he wanted to do to you. Just to watch you flinch and squirm during Hashira dinners.
“Who will break first?” he murmured one night, voice a silken tease. “You… or me?”
He made it competitive, but his self-control was ironclad. He lasted longer than you expected, and he wore his victory with a smug curl of his lips when you finally gave in first.
Akaza – The Aggressively Needy One
You fiddle nervously as you look for Akaza within the infinity castle, none of the demons were helpful with your search and soon enough Akaza appears in front of you. Saying he smelt and heard your erratic heartbeat. Inhaling deeply you finally tell him what's on your mind.
Akaza blinked at you when you explained the ban. Then he laughed - sharp, incredulous- as if in disbelief that you'd want such a thing.
“You think you can ban me?” His grin widened, fangs flashing. Despite his words, Akaza truly meant it with sincerity. If you didn't want him for a period of time, he would respect it. Treat it as an oath even.
But despite his bravado, Akaza’s need bled through quickly. He crowded you and followed you more often than before, pressed you against walls just to get a close up of your scent, kissed down your neck but never crossed the line.
“Say it’s over. End this stupid rule, please my love…I wont touch you unless you give me your permission” he borderline-whined into your ear.
He lasted longer than Sanemi, but not by much. His impatience made him restless, and every second without you gnawed at him like a fight he couldn’t win.
Douma – The Playful Manipulator
You are seated by his side like a showpiece meant to be admired as his followers came in with their requests and praises for their lord. Once the last member left, you turn to him and speak what's on your mind.
Douma clapped his hands when you announced the ban, eyes sparkling with amusement as you explained your reason and rules.
“Oooh, how fun! A little game of denial~! You’re so adorable when you try to act strict my Treasure~”
The next couple of days were hell as he became a grade A menace. He teased you relentlessly, brushing your hair back during meetings in front of everyone, tracing your lips with his thumb whenever he wanted to-even in front of an annoyed Lord Muzan, pressing his body close just to watch you squirm.
“Y/n, you’re trembling… is it because you miss me?” he purred, feigning innocence.
For him, the ban wasn’t torture - it was entertainment. He made it about you, constantly trying to lure you into breaking your own rules.He lasted, technically… but only because he was having too much fun watching you unravel.
Muzan Kibutsuji – The One Who Cannot Be Denied
You felt your heart drop the moment the words left your lips, Muzan’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared into your soul. The vial of blood he was in the middle of inspecting cracked. Not under his grip, but by the sheer intensity of his aura suffocating the room.
“A ban? I can't touch you at all..” His voice was low and venomous. “You think you can deny me?” Muzan was ready to reprimand you, scold you for taking the only thing that made him feel ... .almost human at times. The human contact he craved. But as he saw you tremble, he immediately backed off and promised to follow through.
He had no patience for it. His touch grew possessive as he sought you out. The Demon King went out of his way to cancel meetings and skip killings (his meals) just to get a whiff of you in a close proximity. His presence is oppressive. He hovered constantly, testing your limits.
“You’re mine,” he murmured darkly against your skin. “Every part of you. I’m not a patient man, Y/n….”
Respect wasn’t in his nature - he was testy, demanding, and made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate being denied for long. You quickly realized that with Muzan, the ban was doomed to fail.
Prompt: Y/n gets pulled into a domain -who risks it all to grab them?
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Angsty.
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Yuji Itadori
Without hesitation. The second he sees you slipping past the edge of reality into someone else’s domain, his instincts scream ‘move’. He doesn’t think about the consequences, or the fact that he’s sprinting into certain, possible death-he only thinks about you.
“No way I’m letting you go alone! If you’re stuck in there, I’m coming too!”
“Even if it kills me, I’ll drag you back-I swear it!”
Inside, his eyes lock on yours, full of raw and reckless determination.Expect him to grab your wrist last second, teeth clenched using every ounce of his cursed energy to try and tear open the gap before it closes.
Megumi Fushiguro
He’s more calculated but just as desperate. His heart spikes when he sees you vanish, and his shikigami react to his panic, shadows lashing wildly. Megumi doesn’t rush blindly-he summons, strategizes, and forces a way in even if it means he’ll be shredded by the domain.
“Tch…like I’d let some curse take you without a fight.”
“If I have to tear down the walls of this domain myself, I will.”
His voice is steady, but his hold on you is iron-he won’t let go, no matter how much it costs him. His way of risking it all is more precise, but make no mistake-if his only option is throwing himself inside with you, he won’t hesitate.
Kento Nanami
Normally composed, but in this case? His calm snaps. The sight of you being dragged into a domain pulls the rug out from his usual rationality. He knows the survival rate is slim-but his body moves anyway. He’ll step into the danger head-on, tie loosened expression unreadable but burning.
“I swore I wouldn’t let anyone else fall on my watch. Especially not you. Never you.”
“If I don’t come back… at least you will.”
His calm is gone, replaced with something raw, protective and unyielding. His sacrifice would be quiet, firm, like the man himself-calm acceptance that if you’re gone, he won’t stand by. He will replace you if need be.
Gojo Satoru
Cocky grin? Gone. Gojo doesn’t allow you to disappear. He’s the strongest-why would he ever let someone precious slip from his hands? He is on you in an instant. Infinity bends with his fury, and he’s tearing domains apart, blue and red crashing violently to keep the door open long enough to drag you back.
“Like hell I’m letting some weak ass curse lay a finger on you.”
“They’ll regret even thinking they could take you.”
The air distorts around him, his fury is playful on the surface - as if he enjoys teaching them a lesson about laying their hands on you-, but lethal underneath. To Gojo, risking it all doesn’t mean dying-it means breaking and bending every rule of Jujutsu to keep you safe.
Toji Fushiguro
The second he sees you being swallowed, he’s already moving. Toji is raw instinct-no cursed energy, no hesitation, just brutal determination. He doesn’t care if it means ripping through walls of cursed technique with his bare hands-your safety sparks something primal in him. Like hell would he ever lose you, someone who meant the world to him.
“Not happening. You’re mine to protect.”
“You think you can leave me that easily? Doll, you don't know me well enough~ I’ll cut down anyone-and anything-that touches you.”
His presence is a shield, primal and terrifying, as though the curse has just trapped itself with a predator. If it means walking into hell itself, Toji will do it without blinking.
Sukuna
A Twisted, sharp grin spreads though his lips as if he was waiting for this. Sukuna doesn’t panic, but he’s furious. In the best way possible of course, as the king of curses he enjoys bloodshed. Not that he ever needed a reason to create chaos. It's just in this instance, he finds more pleasure out of committing the act since you're involved. If you’re his, then no other curse, sorcerer, or god has the right to touch you. He’d rip open a domain with sheer authority, laughing as he drenches the walls in blood just to pull you back by force.
“How dare they try to take what’s mine? Pathetic.”
“When I’m finished, they’ll beg for death.”
The domain isn’t your prison-it’s your captor’s grave. For Sukuna, risking it all looks like annihilation-he won’t just save you, he’ll destroy whoever dared to steal you.
Choso
Pure heart and filled with raw emotion. Choso doesn’t think twice-his bond with you hits him like family, his other half- and family isn’t left behind. His blood manipulation pierces into the fabric of the domain, and he fights tooth and nail to pry it open. If he can’t? Then he’s diving in with you. In his eyes, your mere existence is what gives his life meaning. If there is no you, what point is there to his life?
“You’re not alone. Not while I’m still breathing.”
“If the only way is through hell, then I’ll walk it beside you.”
His love is fierce, selfless-he’ll burn his body to ash if it means keeping you safe. Even if it costs him his life, Choso’s love and loyalty make him the type to follow you into the dark, just so you don’t face it by yourself.
Prompt: Their reactions when Y/n jumps into a fight to protect them, despite not being a fighter.
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of violence.
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Umemiya
Umemiya freezes the moment you step in front of him. Rage and fear clash in his eyes-how dare someone so important to him risk themselves? He almost feels his knees go weak, his own life flashes before his eyes as he gets in the fray just in time to protect the key to his soul.
“Y/n-what the hell are you thinking?! You can’t just throw yourself into this!”
Umemiya makes quick work of the opponent, turning to couch down your level seeing how your own legs give out. His voice softens as he reaches out to cup your cheeks “If you get hurt… I’d…I’d never forgive myself. Stay behind me, always.”
He’s shaken, but decisive; every strike after is precise, meant to end the fight fast so he can make sure you’re safe.
Endo
Endo’s grin stretches unnervingly when you intervene. Part of him thinks you’re adorable, part of him is dangerously possessive. He steps in before the hit even touches a single strand of hair on you, no one touches what's his. No one. His teasing tone hides how panicked he really is.
“Well, well, look who’s trying to be my hero… you’re cute when you’re reckless, you know that?”
Endo teases as if taking pleasure in the fact you almost took a hit for him “You get hurt, and I’ll-hmm… let’s just say I won’t be letting anyone else near you again. Understand?”
He laughs, but it’s sharp, almost dangerous. His worry comes out in teasing threats that make your skin crawl-in a good way.
Takiishi
Takiishi doesn’t yell. He doesn’t panic. He simply freezes for a heartbeat, dark eyes narrowing at the audacity of your move. His silence is heavier than any shout-full of implied threat for anyone who dares harm you. He moves like a storm, the sheer aura around him makes the opponent falter.
“Y/n… you’re not supposed to be here.” he says in a low and controlled tone of slight anger.
In a swift move he moves you behind him, taking the hit by grabbing the punch. “Do that again… and I won’t just scold you.” He threatened softly.
His menace isn’t loud-it’s in every glare, every measured movement. You can feel his protective instinct like a shadow, suffocating anyone who tries to threaten you.
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Spicy themes!! ⚠️All Characters are Aged Up⚠️
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⚽️ Yoichi Isagi
Isagi’s in the middle of yelling, “PASS, BACHIRA, PASS-” when you stroll past completely nude. His whole body freezes. Controller slips from his hands.
“Oi, Isagi? Did you DC?” Bachira’s voice chirps.
Isagi’s voice cracks. “N-NO, I-I just-uh-” He clamps a hand over his mic, spinning toward you, face blazing. “Y/n! What the hell?! I’m in the middle of a match!”
You smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh? Don’t let me distract you.”
Back on the headset, Kunigami’s confused. “Bro, why do you sound like you’re choking?”
Isagi fumbles. Hard. He can’t focus another second-his team loses miserably, while his friends laugh at how flustered he sounds.
⚽️ Hyoma Chigiri
Chigiri’s lounging back, hair tied up, calm as ever. He’s mid-play when you pass by- nude, confident and unbothered.
His eyes snap up. Controller nearly slips from his fingers, but he catches it just in time. A faint blush spreads over his cheeks.
“…Y/n.” His voice is low, warning.
“What? Keep playing.” You grin.
On the mic, Bachira’s laughing. “Yo, Chigiri, you sound nervous. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Chigiri snaps, jaw tight. His movements on screen grow sharper, faster-like he’s funneling every ounce of restraint into the game. But the whole time, his eyes keep darting to you, heat simmering beneath his calm façade.
⚽️ Reo Mikage
“Alright, I’m passing! Nagi, wake up-” Reo’s call gets cut short the moment he sees you walk by, stark naked. His jaw drops, eyes nearly bugging out of his head.
“Dude, you still there?” Nagi yawns through the headset.
“Uh-uhh-yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Reo stammers, cheeks red as he drops the controller to his lap. He leans forward, whispering harshly, “Y/n, what are you doing?!”
“Nothing,” you say innocently, stretching in the doorway.
On the mic, Karasu cackles. “Yo, Reo sounds like he’s dying- what’d Y/n do, show her tits?”
Reo fumbles hard. “Shut up! I-uh-it’s not-ugh, damn it, I lost possession.”
Safe to say, Reo’s team loses because he cannot recover.
⚽️ Seishiro Nagi
Nagi’s barely paying attention, lazily button-mashing, when you stroll by naked. He blinks once. Twice. Then tilts his head.
“Hm….Nice.”
You raise a brow. “That’s it?”
“Mhm. Just… don’t block the screen.” He yawns, eyes still glued to the match. But the way he stretches back in his chair, letting his gaze drift as he spreads his legs showing off the heat between his legs, tells you he’s enjoying the view.
On the mic, Reo yells, “Bro, why are you spacing out?!”
“Mm. Busy,” Nagi mumbles, smirk tugging at his lips.
He keeps his cool on the outside, but he’s plotting how fast he can ditch the game and pull you into bed.
⚽️ Rin Itoshi
Rin’s dead serious mid-match. He never takes anything soccer related lightly, even when it comes to FIFA. His eyes locked, jaw clenched as he breathes evenly. Then you walk past, bare skin in full view.
He freezes. Just for a second. His thumb misses the joystick, and his player stumbles.
“Rin? Did you just lag?” Isagi teases on the mic.
He growls. “Shut up dumbass. You focus.” But his ears are pink, and his gaze keeps flicking back to you. In particular, your ass.
You round the counter and come to stop behind him. You lean down, lips brushing his ear. “Don’t lose.”
His whole body tenses, grip white-knuckle tight on the controller. “Y/n… don’t test me.” His voice is low, warning-but the faint crack in it betrays him. He pretends to be calm, but he’s one nudge away from lunging.
⚽️ Karasu Tabito
Karasu whistles the moment you step past. His eyes greedily take in your body as he licks his lips.
“Damn. That’s one way to make a man lose focus.”
“Karasu, eyes on the game!” Chigiri barks from the mic.
“Oh, don’t worry, my eyes are exactly where they should be.” He grins at you, tossing his controller to one hand so the other can reach for you. “Y/n, you trying to kill me? Or just humiliate me in front of the guys?”
On the headset, there’s a chorus of laughter. “Bro’s whipped!”
Karasu chuckles, shameless. “Yeah, and? Worth it.” He whistles again, leaning back with a wolfish grin. “Come and sit on my lap baby, we’re almost done the match”
He’s proud to let everyone know exactly what’s going on.
⚽️ Sae Itoshi
Sae’s in full concentration mode-sharp, focused and untouchable. Did help that he was the one carrying his team in the match. You walk past, totally nude. He doesn’t flinch.
You pout as you step closer. “Not even a glance?”
Without breaking eye contact from the screen, he murmurs, “Already memorized your body. Nothing new to see.”
On the mic, Karasu whistles. “Cold, man. Ice cold.”
But when the call ends, and the PS5 shuts off, Sae’s suddenly behind you-grip firm around your waist, voice low. “Don’t think you won. You’ll pay for that little stunt.”
He’s calm in the moment, but the quiet burn in his eyes promises revenge. He doesn’t hesitate to take you right then and there against his gaming chair.
⚽️ Ryusei Shidou
Shidou is throwing profanities like it’s second nature as he screams into the mic. The second he spots you, Shidou HOWLS with laughter. “OH SHIIIT-BOYS, YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS-”
“Shidou, focus!” Rin uncharacteristically yells.
“Nah, nah, nah-you should see what my girl’s doing right now. Y/n, you tryna make me crash my game?!” You can’t help but giggle. “Come baby, be a good girl for me and get on your knees” a chorus of surprise and awkwardness fill the mic.
You smirk as you purposely bend over to further entice him and he loses it. He drops the controller entirely, lunging straight for you with a wolfish grin.
“Shidou, we’re still playing-”
“Not anymore, I’m not!” he cackles, scooping you up as chaos erupts in the voice chat. “Later, losers!” click—mic off, game abandoned.
He’s the one who absolutely lunges without a second thought.
⚽️ Michael Kaiser
Kaiser is leisurely playing the game, he was winning for his team by a long shot but he had to see it through. Plus, it was fun hearing everyone else fumble over the mic. Kaiser smirks the moment you stroll by. “Ohhh sweetie. Fuck….you’re evil.”
On the mic, Ness pipes up, “Kaiser, stop flirting and PASS.”
“I’ll pass when I’m done enjoying the view.” Kaiser leans back, eyes glued to you, smug grin plastered across his face. “Boys, if I lose this match, blame my gorgeous distraction.”
The chat explodes in groans. “He’s doing it again-always simping.”
“Jealous, are we?” Kaiser fires back smoothly, still watching you with hooded eyes. He reaches down with his free hand to adjust himself through his pants as you smile in triumph.
He keeps his cool, but every movement is calculated to make sure you know exactly how much he wants to ditch the game.
⚽️ Oliver Aiku
Aiku takes a sip of his energy drink as his gaze darts over the screen, drowning out the chorus of orders over the mic. Then, the air shifts.
Aiku lets out a long, low whistle the second you walk by. “Damn, Y/n. Trying to get me killed here?”
“Oi, Aiku, eyes on the screen!” Shidou yells.
“My bad, my bad,” he chuckles, controller slipping dangerously in his hands. He tips his head toward you, grin lazy but heated. “Don’t mind me, boys. Got… better scenery over here.”
The group call erupts in groans and teasing. “Gross, dude.” “Mute yourself next time.”
Aiku just laughs, leaning back with shameless ease. “What? Can’t blame a man for appreciating his blessings.” Smooth talker, completely unfazed—though his eyes linger hungrily on you the entire time.
Prompt: Y/n enforces a Sex Ban. Who takes well to it, and who doesn't?
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Spicy themes!! ⚠️All Characters are Aged Up⚠️
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
⚽️ Yoichi Isagi
Isagi freezes like you just red-carded him out of life.
“W-Wait. You’re banning…? Like-all of it?” His voice cracks, and he rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but yours.
“Exactly. No sex until further notice.”
He tries to laugh it off, mumbling something about “focus on training” and “it’s fine.” But during practice, he’s distracted. Every shot feels heavier, every run slower.
By the third night, he can’t take it-he’s at your side, voice trembling with need.
“Y/n, please… I can’t think straight. I need you. Just once-I’ll play ten times harder tomorrow, I swear.” He begs, feeling ready to combust due to the deprivation of your warmth and touch.
Isagi folds. Fast. He’ll beg quietly but desperately, and he means every word.
⚽️ Hyoma Chigiri
Chigiri just blinks, lips curling into an amused smile. “A sex ban? Bold of you to think I can’t outlast you.”
You arch a brow. “So you’re fine with it?”
“Totally. Doesn’t affect me at all.” He stretches, tossing his hair back dramatically. “If anyone’s gonna suffer, it’s you, Y/n. You’ll come crawling first.”
Except-he underestimates how much he misses your touch. Nights feel colder, mornings drag longer. He starts brushing your hand when you pass, “accidentally” sitting too close, sighing whenever you lean in.
By day five, his voice breaks. “Okay, fine, you win. I hate this. I need you, Y/n.” He whispers, his eyes locked on yours as if he is seconds away from losing himself.
His calm front melts into pure need-Chigiri folds with quiet desperation, begging soft and breathless.
⚽️ Reo Mikage
The look on Reo’s face when you said it was devastating. Like you’d just told him the stock market crashed.
“Wait-hold on. Babe. Babe.” He immediately crowds you, voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “You’re joking, right? This is… like, a prank?”
You cross your arms, fighting a smirk. “No sex. Until further notice.”
Reo’s eyes widen like you’ve snatched the ground beneath him. He leans down, pressing frantic kisses along your neck. “Y/n, come onnn… you can’t do this to me. I’ll die. Actually die. I’ll fund five new charities, I’ll learn ten more languages, I’ll do anything-just not this.”
He’s dramatic, he’s clingy, he’s bargaining like a man on trial. And honestly? He will absolutely fold. The sex ban lasts maybe a day before he breaks, begging on his knees with puppy eyes.
⚽️ Seishiro Nagi
Nagi blinks slowly, like the thought hasn’t even processed. “So… no sex? …Mm. That’s such a pain.”
You nod firmly. “Yep. No touching either”
At first, he doesn’t care. He spends more time playing soccer, gaming, lazing around and sleeping. All that he could ever want.
But soon he notices the way your shorts ride up, the curve of your neck when you lean down. His focus starts slipping-controllers falling from his hands, his game sense suffering.
By the third day, he flops onto you mid-couch session, groaning. He immediately buries his face against your thighs breathing you in like a man starved of his favourite nectar.
“Y/n… end the ban. I can’t nap right without you. It’s annoying.” He won’t beg outright-he’ll guilt you with his lazy, clingy whines until you give in.
⚽️ Rin Itoshi
Rin just scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets like he couldn’t care less. “Tch. Fine. Whatever. Like I need you anyway.”
You raise a brow. “Oh? So it won’t bother you at all?”
His jaw clenches. “…Didn’t say that.”
At first he plays it off-icy glares, headphones on, muttering “don’t touch me then”. He seems fine, more than fine. To the point you feel like maybe he doesn’t even want you in that type of way anymore.
But the cracks show fast. His passes in practice get sharper, more aggressive. He’s short-tempered, growling at anyone who looks at him wrong. And at night, when you brush past him innocently, he grabs your wrist just a little too tightly, eyes burning.
“Y/n… don’t push me. You know I can’t keep my hands off you.”
The ban? He’ll last the longest of the boys, but he’s simmering the whole time-smoldering anger disguised as control.
⚽️ Karasu Tabito
Karasu smirks the second you say it. “A sex ban, huh? Cute.”
You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious.”
“Oh, I bet you are. But so am I.” He leans in, breath brushing your ear. “You think I can’t get under your skin without touching you? Babe, I’ll have you begging to break your own ban.”
And he does. Karasu becomes a menace-shirtless stretches, whispered innuendo, brushing his hand against yours just enough to tease. You struggle at first but the drive to have him fall first keeps you motivated.
He pretends he’s fine, but every sly smirk hides just how badly he’s aching.
Eventually, he cracks first- surprise surprise-cornering you against a wall, voice low and hoarse. He presses his throbbing length against you, his teasing smile long gone.
“Alright, enough games. End the ban, Y/n. I need you-right now.”
Oh how the mighty has fallen.
⚽️ Sae Itoshi
Sae stares blankly at you, expression unreadable. There is the tiniest flicker of somthing but it disappears as quickly as it came.
“A sex ban? Hm. Do whatever you want.”
You tilt your head. “So it doesn’t bother you?”
“Not at all.” He says it so casually, you almost believe him.
But then his touches linger longer than usual. His eyes keep flicking to your lips. He becomes more touchy, pressing himself against you. He kisses your shoulder at random, murmuring, “No sex doesn’t mean no touching, right?”
He’s subtle, but intentional-eroding your resolve with quiet intensity.
Sae doesn’t beg, doesn’t fold- he makes you fold. By the time he finally presses you against the sheets, it’s with a smirk and a whisper: “Knew you couldn’t outlast me.”
⚽️ Ryusei Shidou
“Ohhh, that’s cute,” Shidou grins, eyes glittering with feral amusement. “A sex ban? On me? Baby, you think you can starve a lion?”
You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Watch me.”
His eyes light up with a fire, he loved the sassy side of you. It got him going and the chase that much more intense.
Shidou leans in close, lips brushing your ear, his laugh dark and low. “You’re cruel. I like that. But you’re gonna break first-I can make you beg for it without even touching you.”
And he does. Shidou turns it into a game: sitting too close, letting his hands linger up your thighs only to barely brush against your throbbing core, groaning dramatically after practice, whispering filthy promises just to watch you squirm.
You fold just as he had promised, hungry kisses and strangled moans fill the room as he takes his prize.
The ban? It backfires-because Shidou thrives on the tension, and he’ll keep poking until you’re the one snapping.
⚽️ Michael Kaiser
Kaiser smirks like he saw this coming. He tilts his head almost mockingly. “A sex ban? Baby, you wound me. You really think you’d be able to resist me? But….if you wanna play-I’ll play your game.”
For the first few days, he’s maddeningly calm. Still cocky, still smug-he showers you with compliments, kisses your hand, spoils you rotten. He keeps a distance while teasing you from afar, using your weakness to his advantage. You almost think he’s fine.
But then the cracks show. His smirk grows sharper, his kisses linger, his eyes darken whenever you tease him back.
One night, he finally presses you against the wall, breath hot.
“You like seeing me suffer, don’t you? Cute. But I’m done waiting. Fuck the ban, on your knees now.”
Kaiser’s pride won’t let him beg-he turns it into a battle of wills. But when he does fold? It’s explosive.
“Guess I’ll just have to… adjust.” He pretends to take it well, lounging around like nothing’s wrong. He likes to acts like it doesn’t bother him but he is internally devastated and hungry.
Aiku acts aloof. But the way his eyes track you? The way his hands “accidentally” graze your hips? He’s struggling. Hard.
By day three, he’s climbing the walls. He tries to distract himself at training, but every break he’s draped over you, voice dripping like honey.
“Y/n… you’re killing me. End the ban. I know you don’t want it-do you? I’ll do anything you want-anything.”
Smooth, charming, and begging under the surface-Aiku folds fast, all bravado slipping into needy groans.
Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Y/n's Injury, Blood.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────
Tanjiro Kamado
The second he sees you injured, his whole body tenses. His empathetic nature makes him feel your pain almost like it’s his own. He’ll immediately check your wound, voice soft but trembling with urgency. He doesn’t panic outwardly (he knows staying calm helps you more), but inside, his heart is racing a mile a minute.
“Hang on, Y/n, you’re going to be okay. I promise.”
If you try to brush it off, he frowns deeply. “Don’t smile like that… your pain matters to me.”
Zenitsu Agatsuma
Full-on meltdown. Screaming your name at the top of his lungs, crying, panicking, flailing around-but the moment he realizes you need help now, his “other side” kicks in. In unconscious combat mode, he’ll fight like a storm to protect you, then collapse by your side afterward clutching your hand while sobbing.
“Don’t scare me like that ever again, Y/n! I-I thought I lost you!”
If you whisper you’re okay, he wails louder: “No, you’re not okay! Look at you, you’re bleeding!”
Kyojuro Rengoku
He stays calm with his signature smile which is not stiff, his energy shifts from fiery cheer to razor focus. He’ll fight with blazing determination, his volume carrying strength meant to reassure you even when you’re weak. After the fight, he crouches down, smile still warm but eyes heavy with worry.
“You fought bravely! But let me take it from here. You mustn’t push yourself further.”
If you argue, he chuckles warmly, caressing your face lovingly as if committing it to memory, “You’ve already proven your courage, Y/n. Now let me protect you.”
Giyuu Tomioka
Completely composed on the outside, even if dread knots in his chest. He doesn’t waste words or let his emotions show-he moves fast, finishes the demon and tends to your injury with surprising gentleness. His silence might make you think he doesn’t care, but when his hand lingers on yours trembling slightly as he tries to bandage you up with precision, it’s proof of his fear of losing you.
“…Don’t ever do that again. Please.”
If you ask if he’s worried, his eyes soften just barely. “…Of course I am. I can’t… lose you.”
Sanemi Shinazugawa
Explosive panic disguised as anger. The sight of your injury ignites pure fury-not at you, but at himself and the demon. He’ll rip the demon apart with vicious rage, cursing under his breath. The demon didn't even stand a chance against his fury. Then he turns to you, tone sharp but hands shaking.
“Idiot! Why’d you put yourself in danger like that?!”
If you smile at him to try to calm him down he growls, but his voice cracks: “Don’t grin at me, damn it! You almost-” He can’t finish the sentence, the mere thought of that happening makes his blood run cold.
Obanai Iguro
His fear is quiet, almost suffocating. He masks it with cold words, scolding you for being careless while Kaburamaru coils tighter around him to ground him knowing very well his master is rattled. Iguro's hands never leave you-checking your pulse, cleaning your wound, staying close like a shadow. He glares at you, almost making it sound like your injuries were your fault, but that's all a guise for the turmoil coiled within him.
“Don’t you dare die on me… You don’t get to leave me behind.”
If you tease him for worrying, his cheeks flush beneath the bandages. “…Shut up. I’m not worried, I’m… just making sure you don’t cause me trouble.”
Akaza
For a demon, he’s unexpectedly frantic-because you remind him of humanity he lost. He's aware how fragile humans are, so when you are injured by a human or even a fellow demon, he does not see straight. He roars in fury, obliterating the enemy without hesitation then kneels beside you with unusual gentleness. He admires strength, but seeing you falter stirs something protective.
“You’re strong, Y/n… too strong to die like this. Stay with me.”
If you say you’re weak, doubting yourself in front of him, he shakes his head hard. “Don’t ever call yourself weak. I won’t allow it.”
Douma
Outwardly calm-almost too calm, with his usual mocking cheer. Giggles and taunts are sent your way to make you feel small for that moment. But his eyes? They glimmer sharper than usual. He acts playful while patching you up, like it’s all a game but the way his touch lingers is chillingly careful, his veins protruding show the stark contrast with his restrain and fake smile.
“Ah, don’t break on me now, Y/n~ I like you too much for that.”
If you accuse him of not caring, he giggles. “Ohhh, but I do! You’re far too entertaining to let go. Dont die on me just yet~”
Muzan Kibutsuji
Cold rage. He doesn’t panic, not the way humans do-but fury at the idea of losing something he claims as his burns deep. He slaughters the threat without mercy, leaving nothing behind. Just blood, a pool of blood where the demon/human once stood. Then, he kneels down face unreadable as he brushes blood from your skin.
“Pathetic humans are weak… but you’re mine. Don’t ever fall like this again.”
If you glare at him, he only smirks. “That fire in your eyes… good. Don’t let it burn out, Y/n. I won’t allow it.”
Genre/Warnings: Romance, Fluff, Slow Burn, Family, Single Parent Focus, Slice-of-Life Moments, Mild Violence, SFW (no spice but kissing, mutual pinning)
Pairings: Superman/Clark Kent x Single Parent Firefighter Y/n
Summary: Superman didn’t expect to hear a six-year-old declare they already had a superhero in their life-that wasn't him.
Word Count: 6.9k
The classroom smelled faintly of crayons, glue, and apple juice - the universal scent of childhood. Tiny paper cutouts of planets dangled from the ceiling, some lopsided where the tape had given up. A mural of finger-painted suns beamed from the wall.
And standing right in the middle of it all was him.
Superman.
Not a poster, not a news clip on TV. The real deal - cape, boots, broad shoulders that nearly brushed the doorframe when he’d ducked inside. The kids had lost their minds when he appeared. Half of them bounced in their seats, the other half craned their necks so far back you’d think they’d topple.
“Alright,” Superman said his voice smooth but carrying enough power that even the wiggliest child stilled. “Your teacher tells me you’ve got questions for me. But fair warning-” He leaned down, stage-whispering as if sharing a great secret. “I can’t reveal my favorite ice cream flavor. Cant have the villains know my weakness!”
The class erupted in giggles.
A boy in the front row immediately shot his hand into the air, bouncing like his arm might detach if he didn’t get called on. “Do you really eat bullets?!”
Superman chuckled. “Eat them? No. I don’t recommend that. But if someone shoots at me, well…” He tapped his chest with one finger. “They usually bounce right off.”
A girl gasped. “Even bazookas?!”
Clark bit his lip, trying not to laugh and instead put on a thoughtful face. “Bazookas make a really loud noise. But yes, even bazookas. Though, between you and me…” He leaned closer lowering his voice again. “I prefer people don’t shoot anything at all. It gets messy.”
More giggles.
A boy with a mop of curly hair raised his hand. “Can you fly to the moon?”
“Absolutely. But you know what’s cooler than the moon?” Superman crouched slightly so he was eye-level with the boy. “The sun. It’s huge, blazing, and full of energy… I’ve flown close enough to feel its heat without getting burned. Like swimming through light itself. You’d love it.”
A collective ‘whoa’ swept the classroom.
“Do you fight aliens?” another child blurted out without raising their hand.
“Sometimes,” Clark admitted fighting a grin. “But not all aliens are bad. Some are just… neighbors who got lost.”
That earned a round of murmurs - kids digesting the idea that aliens weren’t all scary green monsters.
One girl with pigtails piped up tilting her head. “Do you ever get scared?”
That one gave him pause. Clark blinked at her and for a second the noise quieted. Then he smiled softly. “Yes. A lot, actually. Brave doesn’t mean ‘never scared.’ It means doing the right thing even when you are scared.”
The teacher gave him a grateful glance.
Then from the back row, a small hand went up. Slower than the others. Polite and hesitant.
Clark pointed offering his warmest smile. “Yes, you. Go ahead.”
The boy’s voice was steady, though his cheeks flushed. “Um… Superman? My mom’s a superhero too.”
The classroom stilled. A couple of kids giggled, but mostly they turned to look at their fellow classmate curiously.
Clark’s brows rose, interest sparking immediately. He crouched again cape pooling around him. “Is that so? Well, now you’ve got my attention. What’s her superpower?”
The boy sat up straighter, pride radiating from every inch of him. “She fights fires. She saves people even when she’s tired. And… and she makes the best pancakes.” His chin lifted in stubborn certainty. “She’s braver than anyone I know.”
And for a moment, Clark forgot about the cape, the classroom, even the dozens of eyes on him. His chest tightened.
Because he knew that was true. Firefighters ran into danger with no invulnerability, no heat vision, no flight. Just grit and courage.
He put a hand over his heart and bowed his head solemnly. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. Firefighters are superheroes. In fact-” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I think they’re tougher than me. You should be very proud.”
The boy’s smile lit up the room brighter than the sun mural on the wall.
Before moving on, Clark tilted his head curiously. “What’s your name, champ?”
The boy looked like he might levitate out of his chair from joy. “Superman knows my name!” he whisper-yelled, clutching his desk as the kids around him gasped in envy.
Clark chuckled his chest warm. Small moments, he thought. ‘These matter more than the headlines’
The teacher clapped her hands, breaking the spell. “Alright, who’s next? We’ve got time for a few more questions before Superman has to fly back to work.”
“Can you pick up a whole building?”
“What happens if you sneeze?”
“Do you like dogs or cats better?”
And just like that, the lively chaos resumed -children firing questions faster than Clark could answer, their laughter ringing in his ears. But his gaze flickered now and then to Eli in the back, chest puffed with pride.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
The smoke curled like black fists into the night sky, blotting out the stars. Sirens wailed, red and blue light flashing across the street as firefighters hauled hoses and shouted orders. Civilians clustered behind police tape, their voices a frightened murmur.
And Superman landed in the middle of it all.
Boots hit cracked asphalt with a solid thunk. His cape snapped in the gust from the churning flames as he strode toward the inferno, heat licking at his skin.
“Hold it!” a sharp voice cut through the chaos.
He turned, brows raised.
A firefighter in full gear - helmet, mask, soot streaked across her yellow jacket - strode toward him with the confidence of someone used to commanding chaos. She was smaller than him- significantly smaller- but the glare she shot up at him through her mask could have flattened a lesser man.
“You can’t go charging in there,” she barked, blocking his path with one gloved hand pressed firmly against his chest. “The building integrity is compromised. One wrong move and the whole thing comes down.”
Superman blinked, startled. Not many people told him no. Even fewer put a hand on him while doing it.
He smiled, trying for diplomacy. “With respect ma’am, I think I can handle a collapsing building.”
Her eyes narrowed behind the face shield. “With respect Superman-” the way she said it was almost sarcastic, “-I’ve pulled enough bodies out of rubble to know better. You want to help? Fine. Stay put and let my team do their job.”
The words hit harder than any piece of debris could. For a second, Clark almost obeyed out of sheer admiration. But then a scream carried from inside the building - a trapped civilian. And thats all it took for him to make his decision.
He gave her a sheepish and apologetic grin. “I promise, I won’t mess up the foundation.” And before she could stop him, he blurred into motion vanishing into the smoke.
Her muffled groan carried even over the roar of the flames. “Unbelievable.”
Several later, survivors stumbled out into waiting arms. Superman emerged last, cape streaked with ash a limp but breathing man cradled against his chest. He set him gently on the gurney, murmured something to the paramedics, and finally turned toward the firefighters regrouping.
She was there - helmet now tucked under one arm, sweat and soot streaking her skin. The firelight painted her in gold and shadow, every curve of her jaw sharp against the night. With a practiced tug, she pulled the heavy mask down and shook out her hair, damp strands clinging to her temples.
And then Clark saw her.
Really saw her.
For a man who had flown through the Sun's scorching heat and looked down on the Earth from space, nothing- nothing -had ever knocked the air from his lungs like the sight of her face.
Her eyes - beautiful, stead and sharp - locked on him with a fire that rivaled the one they’d just put out. A soft but playful smile tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that said she was already three steps ahead of him. Strong but with warmth just beneath the surface.
His heart exploded.
Beautiful didn’t even begin to cover it. She was breathtaking. Radiant. The kind of beautiful that wasn’t fragile or delicate, but forged in heat and grit and sleepless nights. The kind that could bring a man like him to his knees.
For a moment, Clark forgot how to be Superman. The cape, the emblem, the ash in his hair - it all disappeared under the thunderous realization that he was standing in front of the most extraordinary woman he had ever seen.
She huffed a little laugh the corners of her mouth quirking higher. “Guess I owe you an apology,” she said, voice rough from smoke but carrying that same sharpness as before. “Didn’t mean to snap. Just -when it’s your crew in there, you don’t think about capes and invulnerability. You think about structural collapse and body bags.”
Clark blinked struggling to pull himself together, to say anything that wasn’t the truth blaring inside his chest: ‘You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.’
Instead, he managed, voice low and reverent, “No apology necessary. You were right. You care about your people. That’s real strength.”
Her lips quirked again, a teasing glint in those dazzling eyes like she knew exactly the effect she had on him. She shifted her helmet under her arm and extended a soot-smudged glove.
“Lieutenant Y/n L/n of the blank Division 7”
The name hit him like a lightning bolt.
L/n?
His mind flashed back to the boy in the classroom, grinning wide.
‘My mom’s a superhero too… She saves people even when she’s tired… Her pancakes are the best…’
Superman’s lips curled slowly into a smile, warmer than the fire’s glow. He took her hand carefully, as if it were something fragile. “Superman,” he said softly though his heart whispered the truth: Eli’s mom. The other superhero.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
Clark pushed his cart down the produce aisle, glasses slipping a little down his nose. He nudged them back up with his thumb, eyeing the stack of apples like they were some great Kryptonian puzzle. Organic? Gala? Honeycrisp? The choices felt almost as overwhelming as space combat.
But none of it was really on his mind.
Because no matter how many times he told himself to focus, his thoughts kept circling back to her. Lieutenant Y/n L/n. The firefighter with fire in her eyes and a smile sharp enough to cut him in half.
He’d met kings. He’d faced gods. He’d flown through galaxies. But nothing compared to the way his heart had detonated when she pulled off that mask. He kept replaying it in his head, like an old record he couldn’t stop spinning.
She was so brave. So steady. So-
“Excuse me!”
A small voice cut into his thoughts. Clark blinked, adjusting his glasses. Down the aisle, a boy stood on tiptoe, reaching desperately toward the highest shelf where a brightly colored box of cereal teetered just out of reach.
Clark’s chest warmed instantly. He knew that voice.
Eli.
In three easy steps, Clark was beside him. “Need a hand there, buddy?”
Eli turned wide-eyed, then grinned shyly. “Yeah, please. My mom says I’m not tall enough yet.”
Clark chuckled, plucking the cereal box from the shelf with ease and handing it down. “Well, even the tallest of us need help sometimes.”
The boy hugged the box to his chest like it was treasure. “Thanks, mister!”
Before Clark could reply, another voice chimed in - this one warm and familiar, laced with that sharp command he remembered from a couple of days ago.
“Eli? Did you find-oh.”
Clark turned.
There she was.
Y/n. Out of uniform this time, in jeans and a cropped sweater, hair pulled back but still rebelliously escaping in a few strands. No soot, no mask - just her. And if she had stolen the air from his lungs that night, now she stole the ground right out from under him.
She gave him a polite apologetic smile. “Sorry, he has a bad habit of trying to climb shelves. Thank you for grabbing that.”
Clark cleared his throat, fighting down the ridiculous flutter in his chest. “No trouble at all. Happy to help.”
Eli bounced on his heels, clutching the cereal box. “Mom! This guy saved me from the shelf!”
Her lips twitched into a soft, tired smile - the same one Eli must’ve been talking about when he’d bragged in class. “Well, then I guess I should be grateful.” She extended a hand, offering it casually. “Y/n L/n.”
Clark swallowed. The name hit him again, sweet and dangerous all at once. He slid his much larger hand into hers, trying to play the part of an ordinary man. “Clark. Clark Kent.”
Her brows lifted slightly in recognition. “The reporter from the Daily Planet?”
He adjusted his glasses, sheepish grin tugging at his mouth and his cheeks growing warm. “Guilty… though I promise I don’t just write about Superman, as everyone seems to think.”
Her laugh was low, surprising him with how much it tugged at his chest. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Clark.”
Eli tugged her sleeve. “Mom, can we get ice cream too? Please?”
She sighed. “Not tonight. We already got cereal.”
Clark crouched slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially toward Eli. “Between you and me… I think ice cream makes a strong case for itself.”
Eli giggled eyes lighting up. “See, Mom? Even he thinks so!”
Y/n gave Clark a look - half stern and half amused. “Thanks for the backup, stranger.”
Clark straightened, smiling softly. “Anytime.”
As they moved on down the aisle, Clark’s heart thudded like a drum. They didn’t know him. Not really. Not the cape, not the symbol.
Just Clark Kent. And for the first time in a long time… he wanted desperately for that to be enough.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
It kept happening.
Not on purpose, Clark swore. But somehow, he kept bumping into them.
First, at the park.
He’d gone there on a rare afternoon off, mainly to read a book on the bench while secretly enjoying the simple sounds of dogs barking and kids laughing. That was when Eli came barreling past, chasing after a runaway soccer ball.
He was up in an instant. Clark caught it easily, plucking it out of the air with one hand. “Lose something?”
Eli skidded to a stop, beaming when he saw him. “Hey! You’re the cereal guy!”
Clark laughed, handing over the ball. “I guess that’s my new title.”
When Y/n jogged over, her cheeks pink from exertion and hair falling into her face, Clark had to remind himself to breathe. She gave him a small, surprised smile. “Clark? Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He shrugged, awkwardly closing his book. “I like the park. Good place to clear your head.”
Y/n tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she watched him. “Why don’t you join us? Eli’s beating me, and I could use someone on my team.”
Clark’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!” His unusually calm day had just skyrocketed and he didn’t even try to hide it.
“Mm,” she hummed, a soft smile tugging at her lips as Eli immediately launched into an animated retelling of his soccer exploits. Clark leaned in just slightly, nodding along, laughing at the right moments, his gaze occasionally flicking to her with that soft, warm intensity that made her heart skip.
Y/n’s chest melted a little at the sight - the way he listened, the way he smiled at Eli, the way he looked at her - though she didn’t let it show. Not much, anyway.
**
The second run-in was at the farmer’s market.
Clark had been sent there to do a fluff piece for the Planet - “Local Produce and Community Spirit” - when he spotted them again near a stall of honey jars and wildflowers.
“Look, Mom!” Eli tugged her sleeve. “It’s the cereal guy again!”
Y/n snorted rolling her eyes affectionately. “You’ve been promoted to a full-blown nickname, I see.”
Clark grinned sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll take it. Better than some of the things Perry White calls me.”
They walked the rows together, Eli bouncing between them like he’d known Clark his whole life. Clark let him try on his press badge, listened intently as he rattled off his favorite snacks, even pretended to be mystified when Eli explained the “very complicated rules” of his favorite board game.
At one point, Eli slipped his hand into Clark’s without hesitation while crossing the street between stalls. Clark’s heart almost gave out on the spot. Y/n noticed, and though she said nothing, her lips twitched like she couldn’t quite hide her smile.
Later, as the market wound down, Clark found himself walking beside Y/n while Eli darted ahead toward a booth giving out free apple slices.
He cleared his throat, nervous in a way that stopping meteors had never made him. “You know… I was wondering. Maybe sometime-when you’re not running into burning buildings or chasing Eli around -you’d like to… grab dinner?”
Her brows rose, and for a second he worried he’d overstepped. But then that soft, mischievous smile appeared - the one that had ruined him the first time he saw it.
“Are you asking me out, Clark Kent?” she teased, voice light but eyes searching.
He ducked his head, glasses sliding down his nose again. “I suppose I am.”
Y/n tilted her head, considering him. Then she reached into her jacket pocket, tugged out a pen, and scribbled a number onto the back of his notebook before tucking it against his chest.
“I would love to Clark,” she said with a soft look that almost had his knees buckling.
Clark stood there, grinning like a fool as Eli came running back with sticky apple-juice fingers and declared loudly, “Mom, can we invite the cereal guy to dinner?!”
Clark’s laugh mingled with hers, warm and unguarded.
And in that moment, in the middle of the market with sunlight glinting off her hair and Eli tugging on his sleeve - Clark Kent realized he wasn’t just falling.
He was already gone.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
Clark had been counting down the hours.
The whole day at the Planet had dragged —-copy edits, coffee runs, Perry yelling about deadlines - but all he could think about was her. Dinner, laughter, the chance to know Lieutenant Y/n L/n outside of fire and the coincidental run ins for the past few months.
So when his phone buzzed that evening, her name lighting the screen his heart leapt.
“Y/n,” he answered, his voice softer than he meant.
There was a pause, then a sigh. “Clark… I’m so sorry.”
Immediately his stomach dropped. “Sorry?”
“About tonight,” she rushed out. “I have to cancel. Eli’s running a fever. He’s miserable, and I can’t leave him with anyone else. I was really looking forward to this, and I feel awful.”
Clark pressed the bridge of his glasses, trying to hide the disappointment that cracked through his chest. But her voice - the guilt in it, the exhaustion - tugged stronger.
“Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “Eli comes first. Always.”
There was silence, like she hadn’t expected him to mean it so simply. “You’re… too good, Kent.”
He chuckled faintly. “I don’t know about that. But… how about this? What if I came to you instead? I can pick up dinner, something Eli might eat. We’ll make it easy.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested, though her voice wavered.
“I know I don’t have to,” he said warmly. “I want to.”
An hour later, she opened the apartment door and just stood there staring.
Clark filled the frame awkwardly, tall, broad and arms juggling takeout bags and a modest bouquet of sunflowers.
“Hi,” he said a sheepish grin tugging his mouth. “I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, but these felt… sunny. Like you.”
Her chest squeezed painfully. She stepped aside, murmuring, “Come in, Kent.”
Inside, Eli was curled up on the couch in his pajamas, cheeks flushed but eyes brightening when he saw Clark.
“The cereal guy!” he croaked happily.
Clark’s heart just about melted. He crouched down, setting the bags aside. “Hey, champ. I brought dinner - and some soup in case you’re hungry later.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Also, I may have smuggled in ice cream.”
Eli giggled, even weak as he was. “Best. Day. Ever.”
Y/n shook her head, but her lips curved despite herself.
Dinner was… easy. Too easy.
They sat on the floor around the coffee table, Eli picking at soup while Clark distracted him with goofy stories about embarrassing things that had happened “in the office.” Y/n caught herself watching Clark more than once - the way his big hands were so careful with every movement, the way his deep laugh filled her living room like it was meant to be.
Afterward, Clark insisted on cleaning up sleeves rolled past his forearms as he moved around her kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, fighting the absurd flutter in her chest.
“You know,” she said teasingly “you’re making it really hard to find flaws here. You’re tall, you’re polite, you do dishes. What’s the catch?”
He glanced over his shoulder, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned. “Catch? I trip over my own feet at least once a day. Does that count?”
She laughed and felt the throb in her heart deepen.
Later, the three of them curled up on the couch for a movie. Eli fell asleep halfway through, small head tipping onto Clark’s shoulder. Clark froze for a moment - as if afraid to move - then let the boy rest, his smile soft and at peace.
Y/n turned her head, watching them in the flickering glow of the TV. Her son - her whole world - tucked against Clark like he belonged there. The sight made her chest ache in ways she didn’t want to name.
When the credits rolled, she quietly eased Eli into her arms and carried him to bed. When she came back, Clark was still on the couch, fiddling with his glasses looking almost nervous.
“I’m sorry tonight wasn’t what you planned,” she said sinking down beside him.
He turned, gaze steady. “Y/n… it was perfect.”
She blinked, surprised. “Perfect?”
Clark nodded, his voice low but sure. “Dinner, laughing with you, getting to know Eli… I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not in the world.”
Her throat tightened. She opened her mouth, closed it then whispered, “You’re going to ruin me, Kent.”
His smile was slow, and tender. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
Y/n realized, sitting there beside him, that the silence wasn’t awkward. It was… charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm.
Clark shifted, turning toward her. The soft lamplight caught his eyes behind the glasses, and she swore they burned brighter than any fire she’d walk through.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Tonight was perfect. Because it was with you.”
Something in her chest cracked. She exhaled, shaky. “Clark…”
The word was barely out before his hand found her cheek, tentative but firm, thumb brushing away a stray eyelash she hadn’t realized had fallen. She leaned into it without meaning to, her pulse hammering. Clarks breath caught as he followed her movements, gaze darkening.
And then he kissed her.
It started gentle - careful, respectful - but the second her lips parted, something in both of them broke loose. The kiss deepened, hungrily, like two people starved for this exact moment. His tongue slid against hers, hot and slick, tasting of the wine they’d shared and something wholly him. She gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer.
Clark groaned - a low, desperate sound - and in one fluid motion he tugged her onto his lap. She straddled him without hesitation, her knees bracketing his hips as their mouths crashed together, messy and wet, lips sliding, teeth clashing in their haste. Saliva slicked the corners of their mouths but neither cared - they couldn’t get enough, couldn’t breathe without each other.
Her hands threaded into his hair, tugging, and he kissed her harder, deeper, his big hands gripping her waist like he never wanted to let go. Heat coiled low between them, dangerous and sweet, and for one reckless heartbeat she wanted to let it devour her.
And then - Clark pulled back.
His forehead rested against hers, breaths ragged, lips swollen and glistening. His voice was hoarse, raw with restraint.
“Thank you… for today.” His thumb traced her jaw. “I should go. Because if I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”
Her chest heaved, desire sparking everywhere his hands had been. But she understood. She swallowed hard, whispering, “Yeah. First date. Modesty and all that.”
He gave her the softest smile, one that was almost boyish despite the fire still burning in his eyes. He pressed a gentler kiss to her forehead - tender, promising - before finally letting her slip from his lap.
As he stood, adjusting his glasses, she realized her lips still tingled, her whole body buzzing like she’d been struck by lightning.
And when the door shut softly behind him, Y/n leaned against it, fingers pressed to her swollen mouth.
God help her.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────
The station was unusually quiet.
Y/n sat hunched at her desk, pen scratching across the incident report she was supposed to finish. But the words blurred, her mind betraying her.
Not the call. Not the fire. Not the rescue.
Clark.
Her lips tingled just remembering the way he’d kissed her.They had been dating for a month now but every kiss felt the same, like their first time. The way his hands had gripped her waist, firm but gentle, like she was something precious. The way he’d stopped, breathless and trembling, because he cared too much to push her too far.Everytime.
Her chest ached.
For years, she’d built her world around Eli. Her boy. Her miracle. She’d been so young when she found out she was pregnant terrified and unprepared. The man who should’ve been there, wasn’t. One look at responsibility and he bolted, leaving her with nothing but a heartbeat on an ultrasound and a choice.
She chose Eli. Always Eli.
There were nights she cried, bone-tired and aching, rocking a colicky baby with no one else in the world to lean on. Days when she didn’t know how she’d stretch her paycheck far enough. Times she doubted every decision she’d ever made.
But Eli smiled - big, toothless, radiant, perfection in a bundle- and the world lit up again. He became her reason. Her anchor. Her joy.
And for the longest time, she believed that was enough. That she didn’t need anyone else. That her heart had given all it could.
Until Clark.
The thought of him - his easy laugh, his gentle patience with Eli, the way he always seemed to notice the smallest things - made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t just added to her world. He’d made it brighter.
Her pen stilled on the paper as the realization struck, heavy and terrifying and wonderful.
‘I like him. I really, really like him.’
“L/n.”
She startled, glancing up to find Martinez leaning against the doorframe smirking. “You’ve been staring at that report for ten minutes straight. Didn’t know paperwork was that dreamy.”
Across the room, Davis snorted. “She’s not staring at the report. She’s staring into her feelings.”
“Feelings?” Martinez perked up. “For who?”
Y/n groaned, tossing her pen at him. “Mind your own business.”
“Oh-ho, that’s a guilty face if I’ve ever seen one.” Davis leaned back in his chair grinning. “She’s glowing. You see that? Glowing. Must be some guy.”
“Yeah,” Martinez chimed, grinning wickedly. “Bet it’s that reporter who brought flowers to the last open house.”
Y/n’s ears burned. “I will personally set your lockers on fire if you don’t shut up.”
That just made them laugh harder.
She tried to scowl, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her, twitching upward. The idiots weren’t wrong.
Before she could come up with a sharp retort, the station erupted with sound - the shrill, urgent wail of the alarm.
Her heart dropped as the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the intercom.
“Division 7 , respond to active fire. Location: Metropolis General Hospital.”
The teasing evaporated instantly. Boots slammed the floor, helmets snapped into place, and adrenaline surged hot and fast in her veins.
Y/n shoved the report aside and grabbed her gear. Her pulse thundered for a different reason now.
Clark vanished from her mind.
Because right now, lives were on the line.
**
Clark leaned back in his chair, pen tapping lazily against his notebook. He wasn’t really working. Not today.
Jimmy Olsen, on the other hand, was in full “life is falling apart” mode, flopping into the chair across from him. “And then, Lois practically dumped me into a vat of—ugh, you wouldn’t even believe it. And now these girls at the office keep trying to…” He waved dramatically, exasperated.
Clark forced a chuckle, adjusting his glasses. “Jimmy… you know, you don’t really have to tell me all of this.”
Jimmy leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “But you do listen, don’t you? I mean, you’re my friend, right?”
Clark gave him a patient smile. “Of course I am.”
The banter continued - Jimmy ranting about overly flirty interns, Clark giving dry subtle commentary, trying not to roll his eyes, but also making sure Jimmy knew he had a safe space. Clark’s chest was calm, content, the first time all day he’d felt truly at ease.
And then Jimmy froze mid-sentence. His mouth opened, and then closed. He swallowed hard.
“What?” Clark asked, leaning forward.
Jimmy’s eyes widened as he pointed out the window. “Clark… is that… smoke?”
Clark followed the line of his finger, scanning the horizon. His stomach tightened. There, curling above the city lights, was a dark column, twisting into the evening sky. The orange glow at its base was unmistakable.
Fire.
Not just any fire. Fire meant danger. Fire meant people trapped. Fire meant… firefighters.
And fire meant Y/n L/n.
His pulse spiked, and suddenly the Planet office, the reports, the casual banter - it all faded. His chest tightened, muscles tensing. “Jimmy,” he said quietly, eyes locked on the plume. “I have to go.”
Jimmy blinked. “Uh… yeah, okay, Clark. But… you mean…?”
Clark shook his head, voice firm. “No. I mean now. People need help.”
He tugged his jacket on, glasses sliding down his nose just a bit. “Uh… I promised Mrs. Langley I’d check on her cat. You know… very urgent.”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “The cat?”
Clark gave a small, awkward shrug, already moving out of his line of vision. “Yeah… the cat. Very… delicate situation. Don’t wait up, okay?”
And before Jimmy could protest further, Clark Kent was already sliding on his jacket, glasses tipping just so, and moving toward the window like a man whose whole world depended on the next second.
Because out there, somewhere in that blaze, she was fighting for lives.
And he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
**
The moment Superman landed on the street outside Metropolis General, the heat hit him like a physical wall. Flames licked the upper floors, black smoke rolling into the night sky. People screamed, panicked, some trapped in stairwells or elevators, others frozen in fear on the sidewalks below.
Davis and Martinez were already there, coordinating evacuations.
“Superman!” Davis shouted over the roar. “Gas line blew. Explosions likely if-”
Clark cut him off with a quick nod scanning the building. “Where’s Lieutenant Y/n?” His heart thumped fast and uneven.
Martinez swallowed, his face pale. “She’s inside. Second floor. Helping patients evacuate.”
Clark’s jaw tightened. Inside. Heat, smoke, flames. People in danger. And she was right in the middle of it.
He launched skyward in a blur of blue and red, breaking through the smoke and glass as he zoomed into the building. Heat seared his skin, but he barely felt it. Adrenaline took over.
Rooms blurred as he moved - one second, he was lifting a stretcher through a wall, the next, catching a terrified child who’d fallen from a fire escape. Each rescue, each gasp of relief, tore at him because he was also scanning for her.
And then he saw her.
Lieutenant Y/n L/n, helmet off, soot-streaked hair plastered to her forehead, crouched over a small child. Flames licked the hallway behind her. Her fire-resistant gear had caught part of a collapsing beam, pinning her leg against the beam.
“Superman!” she yelled, eyes wide as she noticed him adrenaline lacing her voice. “Take the kid and go!”
He froze for half a heartbeat, heart pounding. “I’m not leaving you!”
Her glare could’ve leveled a city block. “You save lives! Save the child!”
Clark’s chest tightened, breath catching. ‘God, I love her.’ His mind screamed it even as his body obeyed the instinct to rescue. ‘So stubborn….so fearless….I haven't even told her yet’
His stomach dropped as it felt like the world around them slowed down. ‘I can't lose her. Not like this. Not now. Not when I haven’t told her how much I love her.’
He swallowed, voice barely steady. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, promising even as panic clawed at his chest.
She gave the faintest smile, half amused, half exasperated, knowing he probably wouldn’t make it in a second. “Yeah… you will,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his as he disappeared into the smoke.
The fire roared, flames snapping hungrily around her. Smoke stung her eyes, her breath came in short, harsh gasps, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to let it defeat her. She could feel it - Superman was coming back for her. Right?
And she wasn’t going down without a fight.
Superman appeared in a streak of blue and red, slicing through the smoke like a comet. Y/n’s head snapped up, eyes wide. She blinked, disbelief mingling with adrenaline.
“Superman?!” she gasped, her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames.
He landed near her just as the beam pinned her leg against the crumbling floor. The heat was intense, smoke swirling thick around them.
“Y/n! Move!” Superman shouted, reaching for her.
“I… I can’t—” she stammered, trying to push the beam herself, teeth gritted against pain. “T-The ground is unstable. It’ll cave any second! Go without me!” Y/n gasps defeated.
His jaw tightened, the first flicker of anger in his expression. “What about Eli?” he barked voice sharp and desperate.
Her head snapped toward him. “What?”
His eyes blazed. “Your son! You think I’m going to let you get hurt when he’s out there, counting on you? You are his superhero, you can't go down like this!!”
Her breath hitched as realization slammed into her like a freight train. Glasses. Big blue eyes. Gentle smile. That voice. The way he knew Eli.
“Oh my God…” she whispered, heart thundering. “Clark…”
Superman didn’t hesitate. He grasped the beam lifting it with a strength that bent steel and tore splinters from the floor. Y/n gritted her teeth but couldn’t stop trembling, awe and fear coursing through her.Then she felt it, the ground under her crumbling.
“Clark, save yourself!” she yelled, stubborn as ever.
“I’m not leaving you!” he shouted back, voice raw with desperation. “I can’t! I-I love you! Not like this. Not when I haven’t properly told you yet!”
Her chest constricted. The words, the heat in his eyes and the raw emotion.
Her lips parted, stunned, heart thundering. “You… you”
He barely had time to look at her before the floor beneath them groaned ominously. Splinters and debris rained down as the building threatened to give way.
With a surge, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, the beam dropping behind them with a deafening crash. He flew out of there as the flames and smoke roared below. Landing with swiftness on a rooftop across the street.
He set her down gently, still holding her close. “Are you okay?” His voice was fierce, almost pleading. As if silently praying that she didn't have a single scratch on her.
Y/n nodded, breathless hands brushing soot from his suit. “I… I am. Thanks to you.”
Clark held Y/n firmly in his arms, chest pressed to hers, heart pounding like a drum in his ears. Eyes focused on her.
“Clark… I-”
“I know,” he interrupted gently, cupping her face with both hands thumbs brushing her cheeks. His touch was grounding, urgent and desperate to make sure she was real. ‘You’re alive. You’re here.’
Her gaze met his, searching, and then softened. “It’s… really you.”
Clark swallowed hard, voice low and hoarse. “Yes. It’s me….. I’m Superman. I’m sorry I didn't tell you sooner…. And I… I’ve loved you, Y/n. From the very first time I saw you. Brave, stubborn, fearless… even when you made me want to pull my hair out.”
Her lips trembled into a soft smile.
“And I’ve loved Eli too,” he continued, voice cracking slightly, fingers tracing her jawline like he needed to memorize every line, every curve. “Your son… your life… you two are my world. And I can’t… I won’t… I can’t lose you.”
A tender silence followed, stretching impossibly long, and it drove Clark insane. His chest tightened, heart hammering. “Y/n… please… say something,” he begged, raw and vulnerable, voice breaking under the weight of his emotions.
Y/n’s chest tightened. She reached up, letting her hands rest on his forearms, gripping them, grounding herself. “Clark… I… I love you too. And I’ve… I’ve been scared to let anyone in, for so long. I raised Eli alone… I struggled. I thought I’d never meet someone who could… who could care, really care about us both.”
His thumb brushed across her lips. “I do. I’ve always cared. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She swallowed tears prickling her eyes, and whispered, “You… make me feel like I can breathe again. Like… life can be bigger than just surviving.”
Clark leaned down slowly, pressing his forehead to hers. “Then let me show you, every day.”
And then, lips met.
Soft, slow at first, savoring the moment. Then deep, urgent, filled with all the longing, fear, and love that had been building for months. Their mouths molded together perfectly - storybook fairytale, like everything in the world had narrowed down to just that kiss.
His hands cradled her face, fingers threading through her hair, grounding himself in the fact that she was alive, breathing and safe in his arms. She clung to him in return, hips pressing, hearts thundering in unison, the world outside disappearing.
When they finally parted, gasping softly, Clark’s eyes gleamed, soot on their skin, but their eyes were locked and unbreakable.
She pulled back slightly, brushing soot and sweat from her face, and shook her head in disbelief, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”
Clark blinked, cocking his head. “Me? Ridiculous? I just-”
“No, listen,” she interrupted, laughing softly her chest still racing. “How can you- Clark, the soft, fumbling, adorable boyfriend who can barely carry all the groceries in one trip-be… Superman? The guy who just ripped a beam off a collapsing floor like it was a stick? The one who shows up in a blaze like some kind of… menace at my work?”
Clark grinned sheepishly, a little embarrassed but still glowing. “Well… I guess I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Yeah… a few. And you still make me want to punch you and hug you at the same time.”
He chuckled, caressing her cheeks. “I’ll take that as a win.”
Her laugh faded into a soft smile, and Clark felt a warmth in his chest that no fire could match.
“You know… when I first visited Eli’s classroom as Superman, he said something I’ll never forget,” Clark murmured, voice soft, teasing. “He said his mom was a superhero.”
Y/n blinked, touched as her cheeks heat up.
Clark leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers again, voice soft and loving. “I told him I agreed. And when i met you..i realized just how accurate he was. Strong, smart… brave. And also… my favorite superhero.”
She laughed, leaning into him. “Eli’s going to love that.”
“And I’ll make sure he knows,” Clark said, grinning. “Because it’s true. You’re amazing. Both of you.”
She rested her head against his chest, the city around them still burning, but for the first time, she felt completely safe, completely home.
Clark’s arm tightened around her shoulder, voice low, teasing. “Though I have to admit… I’m a little jealous of you. You're Eli’s number one hero…not me.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmured, looking up at him with that mischievous smile he loved. “There’s plenty of superheroing to go around.”
He laughed, brushing a thumb against her lower lip. “Good. Because I'm competitive.”
And for the first time in a long while, with smoke still curling around the city but hearts tethered together above the chaos, they both believed it.
Love. Family. Home.
And it was theirs.
A/N: Thank you so much for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed the fic-I had the absolute best time writing it. I know it was a bit long, so major kudos if you stuck with me through it all! 🥹💖
And… if anyone is interested in a Spicy/NSFW Part Two, let me know! I would love to dive into some more romantic… and steamy… adventures with Clark, Y/n!! 😉🔥
Genre/Warnings: Childhood friends to lovers, Fluff, Romance, Psychological/Dark Romance, Yandere Themes (possessive and obsessive behaviour), NSFW (MDNI 🔞), P in V, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, Manipulation (Gaslighting), Degradation, Controlling Behaviour.
Pairings: Caleb x Y/n
Summary: They grew up side by side, bound by a childhood promise made during a summer storm. Years later, she laughs at the memory-but Caleb doesn’t. To him, the vow was never a game, and he’ll make sure she never forgets it.
Word Count: 6.9k
The rain had been relentless all day, hammering against the windows of the house like an impatient guest refusing to leave. Y/n trembled slightly as her gaze drifted over the dim and gloomy room, shadows shifting in rhythm with every flash of lightning.
A younger Y/n sat cross-legged inside a makeshift blanket fort, lantern light flickering over sheets draped across chairs and tables. The small space smelled faintly of wet grass and crayon wax, a scent that clung stubbornly to the storm soaked air.
Beside her, Caleb huddled close. So close their knees brushed every few seconds. His dark hair stuck out in every direction, still damp from when he had dragged Y/n inside to protect her from the downpour.
His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes… his eyes were locked on her with a kind of intensity that seemed too old for his age. It wasn’t the fleeting glance of a friend, it was something heavier, something that pressed into Y/n until her chest ached.
“You’re not scared, are you?” Caleb asked, his voice pitched just above the storm’s roar.
Y/n gave a nervous laugh, clutching the stuffed toy Caleb had shoved into her arms earlier with a silent command to hold it tight. “No. But the thunder’s really loud.”
“Then I’ll protect you,” Caleb said without hesitation. His small hand shot out and wrapped around Y/n’s, gripping it tight.
Her heart raced even then. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Caleb’s expression hardened, serious beyond his years.
“I’ll always protect you. Forever. Even when we’re grown up. You’ll always be mine to take care of.” The wording made Y/n giggle, warmth softening her features.
“That’s so sweet, Caleb. You make it sound like we’re grown-ups already.” To her, it was a soft and tender moment dressed up in childhood bravado.
“It’s not a game,” he muttered, grip tightening until she winced but still didn’t pull away.
“I mean it. You’re mine. Since you’re helpless, I’ll just marry you one day. That way no one can take you from me.” Y/n, still thinking him cute in his earnestness, smiled and stuck out her pinky.
“Then we’ll make it a pact. You have to promise me properly.”
Caleb stared at her hand, then looped his pinky around hers with a decisive snap, his eyes burning as thunder cracked above them.
“It’s a pact, a promise. I swear it,” he whispered, sealing it like a vow that carved itself into the bones of the storm.
To Y/n, it was a soft and harmless, silly oath born of childhood closeness that distracted her from the thunder. But to Caleb, it was a binding. His promise wasn’t light or playful. It was steel. It was forever.
The memory blurred to the sound of rain fading, lantern glow dimming. Until all that remained was the echo of the pact, wrapping around Y/n like invisible chains she hadn’t noticed forming.
***
Y/n woke with a jolt. Her heart hammered against her ribs, breath coming in sharp bursts as the dream clung stubbornly to her. She could still feel it, the phantom pressure of Caleb’s childhood grip around her hand.
For a long moment, Y/n lay frozen in the dark, sheets sticking damply to her skin as if the storm from her memory had followed her into the present.
A dream. Or a memory? Why that one of all things? Out of the countless moments she had shared with Caleb in childhood, why had her mind dragged her back to that night?
The red digits of the bedside clock glared back at her: 2:47 a.m.
With a soft groan Y/n shoved the sheets away and slid out of bed. Her body moved on instinct, her throat feeling dry all of a sudden. She needed water, anything to wash away the strange warmth pooling in her stomach.
The house was quiet. Shadows sprawled across the floorboards clinging to the corners like watchful eyes. Each step across the cool wooden floor seemed louder than it should have, echoing through the silence as Y/n padded toward the kitchen.
She tried to shake it off the sound of Caleb’s young voice, the way he had said forever as though it was carved in her skin. When Y/n flicked the kitchen light on, the brightness seared her eyes. And then she froze. She wasn’t alone.
Caleb was there.
Caleb leaned against the counter like he had been waiting there all along, sleeves of his tee rolled back carelessly, a half-empty glass of water cradled in one hand. His dark hair was tousled from sleep yet his posture was steady, deliberate-too deliberate for this hour.
When his eyes lifted they caught Y/n’s instantly, locking onto her with a focus so sharp it made the cool air in the kitchen feel colder.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice low and unhurried as though he’d known she would be.
Y/n’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected him-shouldn’t have been startled by something so ordinary as Caleb standing in her kitchen-but the echo of her dream made his presence heavier and almost suffocating.
“I-yeah. Couldn’t sleep,” Y/n admitted stepping toward the cupboard for a glass. Her fingers brushed the wood, clumsy from nerves.
“Had a weird dream.” Caleb didn’t shift, didn’t sip his water didn’t so much as blink. He simply watched her, that steady gaze fixed and unwavering, like he could peel back her words and sift through the truth underneath.
“About what?” The question hung in the silence. Y/n hesitated, her throat dry.
“Just… when we were kids. That rainy day, remember? The blanket fort.” For the briefest moment, something flickered across Caleb’s face. Recognition at first. Then something else, darker and sharper a shadow passing quickly across his features before smoothing back into calm.
“I remember,” he said finally, voice almost fond though the way his eyes stayed on her made the word feel like a weight.
“You were scared of the thunder. You held onto me the whole time.” His gaze lingered with a teasing smile. Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks.
“I was little. Of course I was scared.”
“You still held on,” Caleb teased, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His tone was warm and playful, the Caleb everyone knew.
“You always did, Pipsqueak.” The nickname made her chuckle, but the weight beneath his words made her pause, glass halfway to her lips. She swallowed, forcing a laugh.
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
Caleb moved then, closing the space so naturally it felt inevitable. He reached past her to set his empty glass in the sink, but lingered his arm brushing hers his presence pressing in just enough to make her heart stutter.
“Friends,” he echoed softly, his lips twisting to a bitter smile.
“Yeah. That’s one word for it.”
Y/n turned her head and found him already watching her. His eyes were steady and unreadable. For a heartbeat, they flicked down to her lips before meeting her gaze again. The kitchen suddenly felt too small and the silence too heavy.
She cleared her throat and stepped back, creating space as quickly as she could.
“Anyway. I should… try to sleep again.”
Caleb tilted his head, amusement curving at the corner of his mouth. To anyone else it might have seemed easy and harmless, but Y/n caught the faint glint of something sharper beneath it.
“Go ahead. I’ll be here.” The reassurance should have comforted her. Instead it twisted in her stomach. He sounded like Caleb, he felt like Caleb. But something was off.
And when she finally turned away, she could still feel Caleb’s gaze lingering on her, clingy and unshakable just as strong as the memory of his childhood vow.
*************************************
The morning sunlight should have burned away the heaviness of the night but it clung stubbornly to Y/n like a shadow. She sat at the dining table, fingers curled around a mug of coffee, watching the steam rise and twist as though it might untangle the knot in her chest.
That dream, the way it had bled into reality with Caleb in the kitchen, his voice soft but weighted, the intensity in his eyes still lingered. It was almost laughable.
Y/n had known Caleb her whole life. He’d seen her with grass-stained knees and tangled hair, carried her home when she’d twisted her ankle at twelve, defended her more times than she could count.
Caleb was safety. Familiarity. And yet, when she had woken in the middle of the night to find him standing there in the half-light, watching her like she was the only thing in the world worth noticing… she felt at odds with herself.
She’d felt… aware, in a way that made her heartbeat flutter.
“Morning.” Y/n looked up as Caleb strolled in, damp hair falling across his forehead, a plain shirt clinging faintly to his shoulders. He moved with the ease of someone who belonged in her space-like he always had.
“Morning,” she said softly, lifting her mug to meet his gaze. He poured himself coffee and dropped into the seat beside her, thigh brushing hers under the table. She felt the familiar warmth, the casual closeness that had always been a part of him.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, leaning back slightly with a mug in hand. Y/n smiled gently.
“Eventually… the coffee is helping me.” Caleb’s eyes flicked to her, dark and unreadable for a moment, before softening into a faint playful smile.
“Good. You looked wiped last night, Pipsqueak.” The nickname made her cheeks warm. She leaned back slightly, pouting with teasing affection.
“Don’t call me that,” her lips twitched. “Makes me feel twelve all over again.”
Caleb chuckled, a sound light and easy but his gaze lingered just a moment too long.
“Sure, sure. Doesn’t matter how old you get; you’ll always be Pipsqueak to me.” Y/n’s lips curved softly.
“Then I guess I’ll have to accept that,” she said, reaching just a little closer across the table to nudge his arm playfully. Caleb murmured, grin softening further. “Some things stick forever.”
And for a moment, the morning felt gentle and the weight of the night lightened by the quiet intimacy that only they shared. For a few minutes, silence stretched between them. Y/n traced the rim of her coffee mug, pretending to study the swirling steam, as Caleb idly sipped on coffee.
The doorbell rang. Y/n startled, snapped out of her trance as she rose to answer it. Standing there was Liam, neighbor who sometimes dropped by to check in. His easy grin was warm as he held up a basket.
“Morning! My mom baked too much again. Thought you might like some.” Y/n’s shoulders relaxed seeing it wasn’t some random stranger.
“That’s so sweet. Come in, just for a bit?” He stepped inside, chatting lightly about the weather and neighborhood gossip.
The basket smelled like cinnamon and sugar that made Y/n giddy and salivate. Caleb had set his mug down, and though his posture remained casual, the atmosphere twisted. He wasn’t smiling.
His eyes were dark and cold, locked onto Liam with an intensity that made Y/n’s chest tighten. Sharp and alert, every muscle quietly taut-he was watching in a calculating way.
“Didn’t know you were coming by this early,” Caleb said, his voice smooth and polite on the surface, but with an edge that scraped beneath it. Liam laughed, oblivious.
“Yeah, figured I’d catch her before work. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“You did,” Caleb replied flatly, his words measured.
Then, forcing a thin almost casual smile he added: “But I guess it’s fine.”
Y/n felt it too, the current under the words and the way Caleb’s gaze didn’t flicker once from Liam. Her fingers tightened slightly around the counter, heart hammering, caught between worry and confusion. Was he acting out? Or was it in her head??
Y/n’s stomach twisted. She shot Caleb a look, silently willing him to behave before turning back to Liam.
“Thanks again for this. Tell your mom I said she’s amazing, okay?” Liam nodded, eyes flicking nervously between Y/n and Caleb, and after a few awkward moments made his excuses and left. The door had barely clicked shut when Caleb spoke.
“You let him come in.” The accusation in his tone made Y/n’s spine stiffen.
“He was just dropping something off, Caleb.” His jaw clenched rigid with control.
“He didn’t need to be in here. What if you were home alone? You don’t know what people want from you.”
“And you do?” Y/n replies quickly.
A suffocating beat of silence stretched. Caleb’s dark eyes bore into hers, as he looked conflicted. As if he was torn between anger and frustration. Then, suddenly his hand caught her wrist. Not rough, but firm enough to anchor her in place.
The tiniest gasp escaped her lips.
“I promised I’d protect you,” he said, voice low and steady.
“I meant it then. I mean it now. You think I don’t see the way he looks at you? The way others do?” Her chest tightened, heat rising in her cheeks as her words caught somewhere between protest and understanding.
“Caleb-”
“You belong with me,” he cut in, grip unwavering.
“You always have. Stop letting others get close.” The words hung heavy, pressing against her like the memory of that long-ago pact. She had laughed it off as a childish game, a silly memory.
Only now, staring at him she realized: Caleb had never brushed it off. Not for a second.
*************************************
After work, Y/n came home early. Caleb hadn’t left his room all morning, and seeing that today was his day off sent a small twinge of worry through her chest.
She ordered dinner for the both of them, then lingered by the window gaze fixed on the world outside, trying-and failing-to ignore the memory of his hand gripping her wrist.
Her heart fluttered at the thought, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with friendship.
His hand had been strong, steady, the way his arm flexed under her touch making a heat pool in her stomach she didn’t dare name aloud. A forbidden stir-toward her childhood friend, the boy who had carried her scraped knees and wiped away tears-but one she couldn’t seem to suppress.
She had noticed it before of course. How Caleb had changed. The boy with the crooked smile, the missing front tooth, and scraped-up knees from endless outdoor adventures had grown into something else entirely.
A man. A striking, polished man, with a build that made her knees go weak at the worst moments. Dangerous, commanding and impossible to ignore. It was alarming… and undeniably, achingly attractive.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, yanking her from the thoughts she was chasing. A message lit up her screen.
Liam: Want to grab drinks later?
Y/n stared at the text for a moment. It was indeed late but…maybe she could go, maybe she could feel ordinary for a moment. But before she could type a reply Caleb’s voice came from behind her, low and familiar making her chest tighten in a way Liam never could.
“You’re quiet.” Y/n startled the phone nearly slipping from her fingers. She hadn’t heard him come in. He leaned casually against the doorframe, but his eyes weren’t casual at all-they flicked straight to the glowing screen in her hand.
“Who’s that?” Caleb asked.
“Just Liam,” Y/n blurted out quickly, locking the phone and setting it down.
Caleb’s smile was faint, polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s persistent, isn’t he?”
“He’s a friend,” she said firmly.
Caleb let out a low chuckle, like she’d said something naive. “Friends don’t text you near midnight. Not unless they want more.”
Her throat tightened. “That’s not what this is.”
“Mm.” His gaze lingered on her for a long heavy beat before he crossed the room, picking up the phone she’d set down. He turned it slowly in his hand, studying the reflection on the darkened screen.
“You don’t need him.” His voice was soft, almost gentle but it carried a weight that pressed against Y/n’s chest.
“I’m allowed to talk to other people, Caleb.” She meant for it to sound defiant, but it came out thin and wavering.
He looked up at her, head tilted eyes shining with something sharp. “Other people don’t know you like I do. They don’t know the way you hate cinnamon in your coffee but drink it anyway if you’re nervous. They don’t know you tuck your hands under your pillow when you’re cold, or how you cry when you’re angry even though you swear you don’t.” His lips curved, almost fond. “Liam doesn’t know those things. He never will.”
Her chest fluttered in betrayal of herself, warmth and dread curling in her belly all at once.
“Caleb-”
“You’ve always had me,” he said, setting the phone down with careful precision. He stepped closer, close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne. “And I’ve always had you. You remember, don’t you?”
Her heart stuttered.
“Think,” he coaxed, patient and dangerous. “The storm. The blanket fort. You shaking so hard I thought you’d vanish if I let go. I held you then, and I’ll hold you now. Tell me-did Liam ever do that?”
Y/n swallowed hard, her lips parting but no words came. She hated that her body leaned toward him even as her mind screamed to push him away.
“The promise I made to you. That storm. You said I was yours. You said I’d always protect you.” Y/n’s lips parted but no sound came.
The dream from the other night, the memory that had haunted her-it wasn’t just hers. He remembered every word. Caleb stepped closer, his voice lowering as though he were sharing a secret.
“I meant it. I still mean it. You’re mine, Y/n. And I don’t plan on letting anyone forget that. Especially you.” Her pulse hammered. The room felt too small, the walls too close. She wanted to step back, but his presence rooted her in place.
“Caleb, you’re scaring me,” she whispered.
He tilted his head, studying her the way someone studies a puzzle they already know how to solve. His smile was almost pitying, almost amused.
“No. I’m saving you. You just don’t see it yet.”
Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face. The touch was tender, reverent even-so at odds with the darkness in his words that it made her ache. She hated that her body leaned toward the warmth of his hand, betraying her.
“You think Liam would notice this?” he murmured, tracing the line of her cheek with maddening slowness. “The way you hold your breath when someone gets too close? The way you’re trembling right now, not because you’re afraid of me-but because you don’t know what you’d do if I kissed you.”
Her knees nearly buckled. Shame and desire tangled a knot she couldn’t untangle. “That’s not true,” she tried, but the protest was thin.
Caleb’s smile deepened, triumphant but still achingly gentle. “You can lie to yourself, Y/n. But you can’t lie to me. You never could.”
For the first time, she realized: Caleb wasn’t just holding onto the past. He was building their future out of it. And in his mind, there was no world where she wasn’t his.
The air between them was heavy, charged like static before a storm-and she was terrified of what would happen when it finally broke.
Caleb’s hand still lingered against Y/n’s cheek, thumb brushing her skin as though he owned the right to touch her that way. And maybe, deep down that was what made her chest tighten-not just the intensity in his eyes, but the frightening truth that part of her wanted it.
“Caleb…” Her voice cracked, caught between warning and plea. His smile curved slowly.
“You still say my name the same way you did back then. Soft. Like you’re afraid the storm will hear you.” Y/n stepped back, but he followed instantly, her retreating steps guided until her back pressed against the counter.
His arm slid around her waist, caging her in but his touch was warm- gentle in a way that contradicted the heat in his gaze.
“You shouldn’t be this close,” Y/n whispered, though her hands betrayed her, fists curling against his shirt instead of pushing him away.
“And yet,” Caleb murmured, leaning closer his breath fanning against her ear, “you’re not telling me to stop.” Her pulse thundered.
She wanted to deny it, to push him back to scold him for being overbearing-but the truth was written in the way her body leaned into his, the way her breath hitched when his thumb stroked over her lower lip.
“Caleb…” It was a softer sound this time, almost a whimper. His eyes darkened, triumphant.
“That’s it. You don’t have to fight me, Y/n. You’ve been mine since that night. I’ve just been waiting for you to admit it.” His lips brushed hers-barely a ghost of a kiss, a tease that made her knees weaken.
She gasped, and that was all the invitation he needed. His mouth claimed hers, possessive, hungry, as though he’d been holding back years of longing and finally let it break.
Y/n’s mind screamed to resist, but her body betrayed her completely. Her fingers clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer. His tongue swept past her lips, coaxing a soft moan from her throat that he swallowed eagerly. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his voice low and rough.
“You feel it too. Don’t lie to me.” Her chest heaved, words tangled on her tongue. She should have said no. She should have told him he was crossing a line. But what fell from her lips instead was a whisper she couldn’t stop:
“…Yes.”
The sound that escaped Caleb was half growl, half laugh, filled with a dangerous kind of satisfaction. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips like he was finally staking his claim.
“I told you,” He said, kissing the corner of her mouth, then lower along her jaw, “I’ll always protect you. Always keep you. And now…” His teeth grazed her skin, making her gasp.
“I’ll remind you every single day that you’re mine.” Y/n’s resistance crumbled, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.
Her body trembled-not with fear, but with the overwhelming relief of giving in to what she’d wanted for so long but hadn’t dared admit.
And when Caleb lifted her onto the counter, pressing himself between her thighs, she knew she wasn’t going to stop him. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
The room was thick with heat. Caleb’s hands gripped her hips like he was afraid she’d slip away, though she wasn’t really trying to. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, tugging him closer even as she tried to squirm beneath him.
“You’re fighting me,” Caleb murmured in an amused tone teeth grazing the shell of her ear.
“But I can feel it, Y/n. Your body’s betraying you.”
“I-I’m not-” she stammered, trying to twist to resist, but her words sounded feeble even to her own ears. Every inch of her skin shivered where his hands had roamed. Caleb chuckled darkly, lips brushing along her jawline.
“You’re lying to me. I can feel you trembling. I can feel how much you want this.” Heat flooded her cheeks.
She tried to summon another protest, but her voice caught in her throat when his teeth nipped the sensitive curve of her neck. The sharp sting bled into pleasure, ripping a shiver through her body. A soft, broken moan escaped before she could bite it back.
“That’s it…” His growl rumbled against her skin as he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter. One hand pinned her down, anchoring her in place, while the other roamed with slow deliberate possession-staking claim to every inch he touched. “Your body gives you away, Y/n. It always has. You make it too easy.”
Her fingers betrayed her, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer, rough and desperate.
“Caleb, stop-” she started, but her words were broken by his lips suddenly capturing hers in a bruising, possessive kiss.
“Stop?” His voice was a dangerous purr against her lips, each word brushing heat over her skin.
“You think I’m going to stop when you’re practically begging for me under that stubborn little act of yours?”
Her gasp broke into his mouth, frustration and desire tangling until she couldn’t tell one from the other. The fight in her chest was real-but so was the wildfire spreading hot and reckless through her veins.
Caleb’s hands roamed freely now, cupping, sliding, claiming every inch he could reach.
“You’re mine, Y/N. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel that I’m just taking what’s always been mine?”
“I’m not-” she tried again, but her hands clutching his shoulders, hips tilting, and desperate moans said otherwise. Caleb’s eyes flicked up at her, a gleam of triumph in the dark.
“You’re lying again,” he said, teeth grazing her ear.
“Your body doesn’t lie.” He shifted his weight, pressing himself harder against her, and she gasped at the friction, arching into him despite herself.
“Caleb… please…”
He smirked against her skin, the dark, filthy edge in his tone sending shivers down her spine.
“Please what? Say it… or let me prove how good it feels to finally be claimed.”
Y/n’s breath hitched, words failing her. Her hands clutched at his chest, tugging him closer, desperate and ashamed all at once. He leaned down, lips brushing hers in shallow, teasing kisses that left her trembling, aching for more.
With a sudden rip, the fabric of her shirt gave way beneath his hands. She gasped, heat flooding her cheeks as the sound echoed in the charged silence.
“Couldn’t wait to peel this off you,” he muttered, voice rough with triumph.
“Had to tear it. Couldn’t help myself.” His mouth grazed her collarbone, teeth scraping lightly as his hand slipped lower, hooking into the band of her bra.
One sharp tug and the clasp snapped. The straps slid uselessly down her arms before he tossed the ruined fabric aside. His gaze darkened as he drank her in, hunger flashing across his face.
“Perfect. Just the way I knew you’d be.”
Her pulse stuttered. She tried to cross her arms, to shield herself her stiffening nipples, but he caught her wrists, pinning them against the counter above her head. With his free hand, he dragged her underwear down, the elastic snapping against her thighs before he yanked them off completely. She was bare now, perched on the cool kitchen counter, every inch of her vulnerable to him.
Caleb stripped his own shirt over his head in one fluid motion, muscles taut under the dim kitchen light. His pants followed, shoved down just far enough to make his intent unmistakable. He stepped between her legs, crowding her space until her knees parted for him without thought.
“You see?” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, intoxicating as his hand trailed up her thigh. “This is where you belong”
Y/n shivered, breath stuttering as heat pooled low in her belly. Her mind screamed denial, but her body betrayed her completely-arching into his touch, thighs trembling around his hips, caught between terror and unbearable want.
His fingers slid between her thighs, pressing against the damp heat already betraying her. He let out a low, wicked chuckle as his eyes widened with sickening joy.
“Fuck. You say no, but your body’s dripping for me.” He dragged a finger slowly along her, coating it before pushing one finger inside her tight heat, stretching her around him.
“You don’t even realize how much you need me, do you? Acting stubborn when all you’ve ever done is open up for me.”
A strangled moan tore from her throat as his finger curled deep, her nails digging into his shoulders. Shame and want tangled hot in her belly.
“Caleb, I-I can’t-”
“Shh,” he hushed, sliding another finger into her, stretching her further. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her broken whimper as his tongue claimed her hungrily. Pulling back just enough, his voice was a purr against her lips.
“Pathetic little liar. You love this. You love me. Every time you moan, every time you soak my hand-you’re begging without even saying the words.”
Her body melted against him, traitorous and pliant. The fight drained out of her as his fingers worked her open, pleasure scattering through her nerves until resistance felt impossible. She clung to him, drowning in the heat the shame, the unbearable relief of finally letting herself want him.
“You’ve been mine since the beginning,” Caleb growled, voice thick with lust. “Mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck until you can’t think about anyone else.”
Y/n shivered violently, her resistance crumbling under the sheer weight of his dominance. Her voice was a whisper, raw and helpless.
“Caleb… I-yes… I want you…”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, satisfaction curling dark in his tone. His lips trailed down her neck, across her shoulder leaving hot claiming kisses on every inch of her skin. His hands spread her thighs wider on the counter, forcing her open, teasing her until escape wasn’t even an option-it was a fantasy she no longer wanted.
Two fingers slid inside her, stretching her slowly. Her gasp broke sharp in the stillness, head tilting back as the delicious burn gave way to dizzying pleasure. He curled them, deep, relentless, his thumb circling her swollen clit until her body betrayed her completely.
“Fuck-” Caleb’s groan vibrated against her skin. “So wet for me. You swear you don’t want this, but your cunt says otherwise. You’re squeezing me like you’ve been waiting your whole life.”
Her nails dug into his shoulders, thighs trembling violently as the coil inside her snapped. White-hot ecstasy ripped through her, a violent flash of pleasure that stole her breath and left her arching helplessly against him.
Caleb froze for a moment, watching her unravel, his eyes burning with awe and hunger. Then he laughed, low, breathless, half-crazed.
“You came for me? Just from my fingers? God, you’re perfect. I could watch you break apart like that forever.” His lips crashed against hers, devouring her whimpers as though he couldn’t get close enough.
Caleb pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark with need and something almost feral. His fingers, slick and glistening from her, hovered for a moment. Then, slow and deliberate, he licked them clean savoring the taste.
“God… you’re mine,” he murmured, voice rough and ragged with lust.
“I could taste every part of you forever… and I will. Not yet, though. Not until I can take you completely.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers, voice low and ragged. “Right now… I can’t stop needing you. I need to feel you clench around me, feel you stretch open just for me.”
Her body melted against him still twitching from the aftershocks. His fingers kept moving, stretching her further, greedily coaxing every shudder he could.
“Look at me,” Caleb commanded, rough and urgent tugging her hair until her dazed eyes met his.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
Y/n’s lips trembled, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. “I… I’m yours.”. Her body betrayed her, leaning closer aching for the pressure of his hands and the heat of his gaze.
Caleb’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “Damn right you are. No man will ever have you. No one touches what’s mine.” His hand slid along her jaw, tilting her face toward his.
Her breath hitched, nerves aflame. When he yanked her hair again, she moaned sharply, gasping at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, one hand threading through her hair while the other traced down her side, gripping her tight enough to prevent escape. “The way I touch you. The way I make you mine. Stop pretending you don’t want it.”
Y/n pressed her palms against his chest, trying to twist away, but her body betrayed her entirely. “I-Caleb…” she murmured, voice trembling as he leaned down, brushing his lips over her neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin in maddening strokes.
“Shh,” he whispered, low and filthy. “You feel so damn good under me. So soft. So fucking hot. I can hear you moaning, Y/n. You’re telling me what you want, even as you fight.”
Then, with a deliberate motion, he pressed the length of himself fully against her, her thighs parting instinctively to welcome him. Y/n gasped, fingers clutching his shoulders as the heat of him pressed into her, igniting a fire that made her cry out.
Caleb’s hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back, while the other cradled her waist, keeping her flush against him. “Feel that?” he groaned, voice rough and urgent. “Feel how ready you are for me. I’m going to fuck you, have you memorize my shape.”
She shivered violently, pressing herself against him despite every mental plea to resist. Her body trembled, cries breaking free as pleasure and need collided in dizzying waves.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice husky lips brushing hers in a possessive kiss. “Cry for me, Y/n. Let me feel every part of you unravel under me.”
Her fingers tangled in his hair again, back arching as he pressed himself fully against her, grounding her in the heat, the obsession, the undeniable claim he had over her.
Her words dissolved into a shuddered gasp as he pressed his forehead to hers, one hand still tangled in her hair, the other caging her waist.
“You don’t need to say a thing,” he murmured, voice low and commanding. “Your body tells me everything, and I fucking love it. You can fight all you want, but you’re screaming for me.”
Y/n’s lips parted in a moan, arching into him as waves of heat rolled through her, every fiber of her responding to his possession. Caleb’s lips trailed down her neck, teeth grazing, sucking, claiming, while filthy words spilled over her like fire.
“You’re mine,” he growled, tugging her hair until her head tilted back. “And I swear it. No one else touches you. No one else holds you. Only me. Always.”
Her fingers clutched his shoulders, trembling as she pressed impossibly close, shivering under the intensity of him. Each whispered vow, each rough demanding touch drove her higher, drowning her in the storm that was Caleb-obsessive, merciless and utterly hers.
For a fleeting second, his eyes softened the roughness in his expression giving way to something almost… careful. “Ready?” he murmured, voice low and surprisingly gentle, just enough to give her a breath of warning before he rubbed the head of his throbbing cock against her slick folds.
She nodded, heart racing and body quivering.
Then, slowly at first, he pressed into her, feeling the tight ring of her body stretch and yield around him. The sensation stole her breath, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips as pleasure and heat coiled in her belly. Caleb groaned, she felt tight and warm, and it drove him insane, his cock throbbed, begging him to crave his way deeper into her. He held her close, letting her adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him for a heartbeat-a fleeting, tender pause amid the chaos.
“F-Fuck~” Y/n gasps out, tears of pleasure rolling down her cheeks.
And just like that, his dark edge snapped back. Without a second thought, Caleb drove himself fully into her, burying himself to the hilt. Y/n gasped sharply, body trembling as she stretched around him, clenching instinctively, protesting the delicious fullness of his size.
The obscene, wet smack of their bodies joining echoed through the room, each thrust rough, relentless, devouring. He groaned, pressing deeper, savoring the way she clung to him, how her every shiver and whimper told him exactly how much she belonged to him.
Y/n screamed, arching violently as waves of need and raw desire collided, every nerve ending ablaze, every shiver magnified under the force of him. He grinned darkly, eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction, reveling in the way she trembled, cried, and clenched around him.
“That’s it,” Caleb murmured, lips brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, voice ragged and low. “This pussy is mine.”
Every whispered vow, every possessive gesture, every rough, needy touch drove her higher, drowning her in the delicious storm that was Caleb. As she gasped again, heat pooling in every nerve ending, she realized: she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
“You’re mine, Y/n,” Caleb growled, teeth scraping her shoulder as he thrust with merciless precision loving the feel of her fluttering pussy.
Her nails dug into his back, leaving shallow crescents in his skin as her cries mixed with ragged moans. “Harder… mark me,” he hissed, voice rough and desperate, eyes dark with hunger. “I want to feel you, claim me as much as I’m claiming you.”
He shifted, looping her legs over his shoulders in a mating press, pulling her flush against him, pressing deep, impossibly deep, until her body arched violently under the pressure. The angle made every movement hit harder, every thrust shudder through her nerves like wildfire.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, hips snapping up wildly, grinding into her with no thought of mercy. “So tight… like you were made for me.”
Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, body clenching around his toes curling as her orgasm approached in violent shuddering waves.
Caleb smirked wickedly, his free hand circling tight relentless circles against her throbbing clit, chasing his own high. His gaze locked on hers, hungry to watch her fall apart under his thrusts, as if imprinting the shape of himself into her mind forever.
“F-Fuck, Y/n… I’m close-” he groaned, voice rough and ragged. “I have to… I have to fill you up, baby.”
“Y-Yes… fill me, Caleb!” she babbled, chest heaving tears spilling down her cheeks, words broken and breathless. “I… I love you… ”
Caleb’s lips found hers in a bruising, desperate kiss, teeth grazing tongues tangling as his hands gripped her wrists, keeping the mating press tight. “I love you too, Y/n,” he growled, voice raw with hunger. “And I’m never letting go. Never.”
Her body arched violently, trembling uncontrollably as his relentless, punishing thrusts drove them both toward the edge. Their cries, moans, and guttural groans blended into a symphony of raw need and obsession. Heat, pleasure, and desire collided violently, until they erupted together-scorching and them gasping and trembling. Caleb buried himself deep inside her, spilling fully, making sure every drop was claimed, leaving nothing behind.
Even as they trembled, tangled, and flushed, Caleb’s dark grin flickered, eyes still burning with possession and desire. He buried himself against her, hips heavy, heart racing, whispering low into her ear, “Always… mine…”
*************************************
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice low and husky.
Y/n blinked, taking in her surroundings-his bed, his room. How long had she been out? Had he been watching her the entire time? Her cheeks flamed.
“I-yeah,” she whispered, curling closer against his warm body.
“This is… real, isn’t it?”
He tilted his head, lips curving into that small infuriatingly perfect smile that still made her stomach flutter.
“Of course it is,” he said, fingers threading into her hair, brushing stray strands back from her face. “It’s real. You’re here, with me. Where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged.”
Her chest tightened at the words. She had fought him, resisted in little ways-but now, all that tension melted into something light and new.
Safety. Desire. Belonging.
“I… I’ve always belonged to you,” she admitted softly, curling into his chest. Her cheek pressed into the hollow of his shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around him. “I just… didn’t know how to say it until now.”
Caleb’s fingers traced slow, comforting circles along her back.
“I knew,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you tried to hide it. Even when you told yourself you didn’t want this… I felt it. You’ve wanted me as much as I’ve wanted you.”
A soft warmth flooded her chest. “You… really did?”
“I did,” he confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. “And now I don’t have to worry. You’re here. By my side, forever….”
They stayed still for a long moment, tangled together breathing in sync. Y/n’s fingers traced the firm lines of his chest, savoring the warmth beneath her touch. Caleb’s hand rose to cradle her face, thumb brushing along her cheek and teasing the corner of her lips with quiet reverence.
“I love you,” he said suddenly, the words low, with the softness Y/n adored, utterly Caleb.
Her eyes widened. “I-” Her voice caught. “I love you too.”
Caleb’s smile softened, that slow, predatory-turned-tender grin. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. I wanted to hear it first,” he teased lightly, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed the playfulness.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, laughing softly, the sound light and free.
“And you’re mine,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss that promised reassurance and devotion.
“Always,” she breathed, curling closer, letting the rise and fall of his chest comfort her. For the first time in forever, she didn’t feel the need to hide her desire or guard herself. She belonged to him completely, and he cherished her as much as he desired her.
They lingered like that for hours, exchanging soft kisses and whispered confessions. In the quiet aftermath of passion and devotion, with morning light spilling golden through the blinds, Y/n realized that Caleb’s obsession-once terrifying-was now the safest, most intoxicating place she had ever known.
Tangled together, hearts beating as one, they drifted into a peaceful, perfect sleep, their love, their pact and their obsession intertwined forever.
✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! I'm sorry for the long fic!!
Genre/Warning : Fluff, Pre-established relationship, Romance. NSFW, SMUT (MDNI 🔞), Aftercare, Jealousy & Possessive Themes. OOC Clark Kent, Car sex, P in V, Fingering, Dirty talk, Kink themes (choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia). Read with CAUTION.
Status: Oneshot
Pairings: Clark Kent/Superman x Female Intern Reader
Summary: Y/N and Clark have been dating for a while, though everything in their relationship is perfect and filled with love. Y/N gets the sense that Clark is holding back….
Word Count: 6.6K
The Daily Planet buzzed with its usual symphony of noise of phones ringing, printers spitting out fresh pieces, the click-clack of keyboards blending with the hum of a newsroom that never slowed down.
Yet at her desk Y/n barely noticed any of it. Her chin rested in her palm with herpen hovering idly above her notes, but her thoughts weren’t on the article deadline blinking on her computer screen. They were far away drifting back to Clark Kent. Her boyfriend of only a few months.
Her gentle, impossibly kind farmboy who wore pressed shirts and crooked ties like armor. She had never doubted Clark’s affection. From the very beginning, he had been nothing but tender.
He kissed her like she was something sacred, touched her like the world might shatter if he wasn’t careful enough. She could still remember the soft rumble of his voice in the dark, the way he whispered “you’re everything” against her skin when his lips trailed down her collarbone.
Every moment with him was a study in gentleness. His hands always searching but never grasping; lingering, but never careless. His lips always hungry, but never desperate, seeking only to delight and to comfort. And in bed… Clark was devoted in a way that made her heart ache: selfless, shyly fumbling at first, adjusting to her reactions like he was afraid of breaking her. He worshiped her body with a kind of tender reverence, leaving her trembling and breathless beneath him-not with force, but with affection so intense it made her chest ache.
Clark always made sure she unraveled, always murmured words of praise into her ear “You’re beautiful. I’ve got you. Just let go for me.”
It should have been enough. It was enough… most nights. But somewhere in the quiet, when Y/n lay tangled in his sheets afterward whilst staring at the faint outline of his broad shoulders as he held her close, the question would creep in again: Was Clark Kent holding back?
Because there was a part of him she had never touched. A storm hidden behind warm brown eyes, a strength restrained in every careful caress. Sometimes she could feel it lingering just beneath the surface… in the way his hands gripped her waist before quickly easing, or how his kiss grew rougher for only a fleeting second before he pulled back with his sheepish, boyish smile.
And she couldn’t help but crave it. Crave him unleashed. She wanted to see him breathe heavily, she wanted to see how he looked when he lost control. She wanted to see his restraint break and for him to devour her.
Y/n’s pen scratched absentminded doodles onto her notepad as her chest tightened. A flicker of insecurity gnawed at her. Maybe he truly wasn’t attracted to her the way she wanted him to be. Maybe Clark really was just the a shy, good man everyone saw: restrained, controlled and always careful.
“Hey.”
Y/n blinked, pulled back to reality by a sharp voice. Lois Lane stood at the edge of her desk, one brow arched in suspicion and a folder in one hand , her coffee cup in the other. Beside her, Clark adjusted his glasses as his warm gaze met Y/N’s, a small shy smile tugging at his lips.
“You with us, daydreamer?” Lois asked, dropping the folder onto the desk with a thunk.
Y/n straightened quickly her cheeks heating. “Sorry, I-”
“It’s alright” Lois waved a teasing smirk. “I’m drowning in work due to Perry’s deadline, so you two are handling an interview this afternoon. Big shot business tycoon, just outside the city at his estate. Try not to let him charm you. I heard he’s….quite the character.”
Clark’s hand brushed lightly against the edge of Y/N’s desk, steady and grounding, and his gaze flicked to hers for the briefest moment. The touch was gentle, reassuring-the kind of touch that said, I’ve got you. Y/n felt a small shiver run down her spine. He always knew when she was nervous, always knew how to make her feel safe.
He offered her a soft, comforting smile-Clark through and through: careful, attentive, a little awkward in the cutest way, and entirely devoted. She wanted to reach for him, lean into that calm, loving energy… but even as his fingers lingered near hers, she couldn’t quiet the ache in her chest.
Because no matter how gentle his touch, no matter how soft his smile, a small, stubborn part of her longed to see Clark Kent-the careful, fumbly, lovesick boyfriend-lose control. Y/n couldn’t silence the part of her that longed to see Clark Kent lose control.
****
The sleek black company car hummed softly as Clark steered them through Metropolis traffic, the city skyline accompanying them. The farther they drove, the more the concrete thinned into open stretches of green, dotted with rolling hills and the occasional sprawling estate.
Y/n shifted in the passenger seat, notebook balanced in her lap. She wasn’t sure if it was the rare quiet away from the Planet or just the warmth of the man behind the wheel, but she felt herself relaxing, tension melting like butter.
Clark glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Your pen’s tapping again,” he teased gently, his voice soft and warm. “Nervous?”
Y/n stilled her hand and ducked her head with a small laugh. “Maybe a little. Lois always makes it sound like we’re walking into a lion’s den.”
Clark chuckled lowly, and the sound sent a ripple of heat through her chest. “You’ll do fine love. You always do. And I’ll be right there with you.” The way he said it, so steadily and so certain it made something ache inside her.
Because Clark always meant it, he really would be right there every step of the way. Before she could get lost in her thoughts again, Clark flicked on his turn signal and pulled into the lot of a quiet roadside café. He shifted into park and gave her a look that made her heart skip.
“Two minutes,” he promised, already reaching for his wallet. “Stay put.”
Y/n blinked. “Clark, we don’t have-”
But the door shut before she could finish. True to his word he returned less than three minutes later, carefully balancing two steaming cups a pastry bag between his teeth. Sliding back into the driver’s seat, he offered her the coffee and the bag with a shy grin.
“Extra cream, two sugars. Just how you like it. I noticed you seemed outta it this morning. Got a pastry for your nervous tummy” Her throat tightened as she accepted the cup and pastry, her heart fluttering with affection for the man.
“You didn’t have to-”
“I wanted to,” he said simply, his smile softening into something that stole her breath. And just like that, she was swooning. Again.
Clark Kent had a way of doing that. Those small and thoughtful gestures that left her knees weak. The kind of things that made her wonder how someone could be both the gentlest man alive and the one who haunted her wilder daydreams. The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, broken only by quiet sips of coffee and Y/n munching away on the pastry.
When the car finally turned down a long, gated driveway, Y/n’s breath caught. The mansion was sprawling, all gleaming windows and white stone, the kind of place that whispered of obscene wealth and power. Clark pulled smoothly to a stop in front of the grand steps.
Before she could reach for the door handle, he was already circling around to her side, opening the door with that same old-fashioned courtesy that both melted her heart and made her cheeks flush.
“Ready?” he asked, offering his hand.
Her fingers slid into his, warmth and reassurance grounding her as she nodded.
***
Inside the marble floored foyer stretched high overhead, echoing with the click of their shoes as they followed a sharply dressed attendant down a long hallway. They were led into an expansive office all polished mahogany, leather chairs and a massive desk that screamed power.
“Mr. Raines will be with you shortly,” the attendant said, bowing slightly before slipping out.
Clark gave Y/n another of his soft, grounding smiles as he gestured for her to sit. Ever the gentleman. Ever her steady anchor. Y/n takes a seat, straightening her skirt as she tries to stead and ground herself.
The door swung open with a heavy creak and a man in a tailored navy suit enters his stride confident, his smile sharper than any headline Y/n had ever written.
“Mr. Raines,” Clark greeted politely, rising from his seat and extending a hand. “Thank you for meeting with us.”
“Mr. Kent”
Jacob Raines clasped Clark’s hand briefly, his grip firm but his gaze slid past him almost immediately, landing squarely on Y/n. His eyes dragged shamelessly over her before his smile widened.
“And who,” he drawled, ignoring Clark’s offered chair, “might this vision be?” Y/n shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.
“Y/N L/N. I’m interning with the Planet, thank you for having us Mr. Raines” she said, forcing a professional smile. Raines’ eyes gleamed.
“Charming. They send interns this lovely now? My, how the times have changed.”
Clark’s jaw ticked but his tone remained steady as he gestured toward the desk. “If we could get started, Mr. Raines. The Planet has some questions regarding your recent trade negotiations.”
They settled in Clark, pulling out his notebook. He began smoothly, voice even. “There’s been some controversy surrounding your choice to partner with LexCorp. Can you speak to the criticism that aligning with Lex Luthor compromises your credibility as a businessman?”
Raines leaned back lazily in his chair, not even pretending to listen fully. His eyes lingered on Y/n’s legs as he smirked.
“Criticism is the currency of the powerful, Mr. Kent. You’ll learn that one day. Though I’d much rather discuss it over dinner with your colleague here.”
Clark’s hand tightened around his pen until the plastic groaned in protest. He cleared his throat, pressing on. As if to ignore the last words uttered, Clark caught how Y/n stiffened in her seat.
“The criticism in question isn’t baseless. Lex Luthor’s history of-”
“You have the most enchanting eyes,” Raines interrupted, his words directed solely at Y/n.
Y/n blinked, pen frozen mid-sentence. Clark’s glasses slid slightly down his nose as he leaned forward, his voice sharper this time.
“Mr. Raines, with respect, if you’d answer the question-”
But Raines only chuckled, eyes flicking back to her. “Tell me, Miss Y/n, do you ever get tired of working under someone else? Surely someone with your beauty deserves more than just taking notes.”
Heat prickled at Y/n’s skin -not from the compliment, but from the fury radiating off the man beside her. Clark’s knuckles were white, his shoulders rigid, though his voice remained measured when he spoke again.
“Mr. Raines,” he said firmly, each syllable clipped.
“This interview isn’t about my colleague. It’s about your questionable decisions in business. Or should we assume you don’t have an answer?”
Raines clenched his jaw before turning back to Clark meeting his gaze as he shifted in his seat, his smirk long gone now. Clark glared at Raines before he cleared his throat. Raines leaned back, folding his hands across his stomach.
“Lex Luthor is… ambitious. Some call it ruthless. I call it vision. Men like Luthor get things done. People can complain all they like - I’m interested in results.” Clark’s pen scratched furiously against the page.
“Results that include lawsuits against LexCorp for illegal arms trades?” His voice sharpened, just slightly. “Are you saying you support those methods?”
Raines chuckled, smooth as oil. “Mr. Kent, in business, nothing is clean. I don’t ask where the gold comes from. I just make sure it keeps flowing. You’d understand that, wouldn’t you, Miss Y/n?” Y/n’s throat went dry. She didn’t answer, but Raines didn’t seem to care. His gaze lingered, dark with suggestion. Clark’s nostrils flared as he pressed forward.
“So you admit you don’t screen your partners’ methods? That you knowingly risk aligning yourself with criminal activity?”
Raines finally shifted his gaze back to him, smirking.
“Knowingly? No. Calculated risk? Always.” He shrugged, unbothered. “That’s the way empires are built. Or would you rather spend your life writing about them instead of having a seat at the table?” Clark’s jaw ticked.
“The Planet will report that you find questionable ethics acceptable if the profit margin is high enough. Thank you for the clarity.”
Y/n could feel the tension rolling off him, every word laced with steel - but Raines only laughed again, standing as if the interview were already over. He circled his desk lazily, steps carrying him closer until he stopped right beside Y/n’s chair. Clark stiffened, his pen cracking under his grip.
Raines hand brushed the back of her chair, far too close, his voice dropping to a purr. Y/n instinctively shifted in her seat as he approached, and Clark’s eyes tracked every movement like a predator on edge.
“Tell me, Miss L/n,” Raines murmured, daring to brush his hand against her chair and against her shoulder “when you get tired of little newspaper men asking their questions, you come find me. I could show you a world far more exciting than this.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Clark shot to his feet, The legs of his chair screeched against the marble floor, the sound sharp enough to cut the air.
His glasses caught the sterile office light but they couldn’t soften the look in his eyes. Behind the frames, his gaze burned hot, hard and unyielding. The quiet warmth Y/n knew so well was gone, replaced by something fierce and commanding. The kind of look that made your breath catch.
“She’s not interested.” His voice was low, steady, but there was steel threaded through it, dangerous and immovable. Each word landed like a warning, final and absolute.
“I’m not interested-” Y/N blurted, but she caught the way Clark had already beaten her to it, his response clipped and possessive, leaving no room for argument.
For the first time since she had met him, Y/N saw a flash of something untamed beneath the softness-a glimpse of the power he kept caged. And though the intensity of it made her pulse race, it wasn’t fear that thrummed in her chest.
Raines arched a brow, amused. “And how would you know?” Clark’s voice was a growl now, low and feral, every ounce of restraint gone.
“Because she’s my girlfriend.” The words cracked like thunder in the polished office, thick with finality.
Clark stepped forward, the shift in his body enough to change the air in the room. His broad frame loomed over Raines, blocking out the sterile office lights until a heavy shadow swallowed the space between them. The fine press of his shirt strained faintly across the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, the outline of muscle coiled tight beneath fabric.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening, and though he didn’t move to strike, the tension in his body carried the quiet promise that he could—easily. One step, one swing, and a man like Raines wouldn’t stand a chance.
Y/N’s heart thundered in her chest. Gone was the soft, bashful farmboy who fumbled with his tie in the Planet’s bullpen. This Clark was taller somehow, larger, more dangerous. His protective instincts blazed unchecked, radiating off him in waves so fierce it was almost suffocating.
And God help anyone who dared test him now.
***
The slam of the mansion doors echoed behind them as Clark’s stride carried Y/n back toward the waiting company car. His hand never left the small of her back, steady and firm -more guiding than gentle.
He didn’t speak, not even once, until they were both seated inside and he’d shoved the key into the ignition. The car roared to life. Clark’s hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough that the leather strained, his knuckles pale his veins pulsing. His jaw was set, shoulders squared like a soldier marching into battle. For the first few minutes, silence reigned.
The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic tap of Clark’s thumb against the wheel - too controlled, too deliberate. Y/n shifted in her seat, the tension pressing down heavy.
“Clark…” she tried softly. Nothing. She swallowed, glancing at him.
“Hey. You okay?”
His answer came clipped, sharper than she heard. “I’m fine.” Her brows furrowed.
“You don’t look fine.” He exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a growl.
“What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I should’ve just sat there while he looked at you like-” He cut himself off, jaw clenching. “Forget it.”
Y/n’s lips twitched, not out of humor but because the change in him was so startling - the ever-patient Clark Kent, suddenly raw and frayed. She leaned back, watching him from the corner of her eye.
“Oh my god,” she murmured, a small and incredulous laugh slipping out.
“You’re actually jealous.” The word landed like a match on gasoline.
Clark’s head snapped toward her, eyes burning hotter than she’d ever seen. His hands flexed against the steering wheel before he jerked the car onto the shoulder of the empty road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they skidded to a halt. His voice came low, dangerous, threaded with a possessiveness that stole her breath.
“Jealous? You think this is just jealousy?”
Y/n’s lips parted, surprise catching in her chest. Clark leaned closer, glasses glinting under the fading light. His shoulders were tense, his breathing ragged, as though he’d been holding back a storm for far too long.
“He put his hands on you,” Clark ground out, his tone vibrating with barely restrained fury.
“He looked at you like you were something to take. And you want to laugh about it?”
The air between them sizzled, heavy with something sharp and unfamiliar - Clark Kent, not careful or gentle, but fierce. Dangerous. A man on the edge of snapping. And for the first time, Y/n realized… maybe she wanted him to.
The car sat idling on the shoulder of the quiet country road, the distant glow of the city long behind them.
“Do you have any idea what that does to me, Y/n?” His words cracked through the car like lightning. Y/n swallowed, heat rushing to her cheeks, her thighs pressing together almost instinctively. And that’s when it happened. Clark stilled.
His nostrils flared faintly, pupils dilating as he turned toward her fully. That controlled mask he always wore shattered now. His jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
“You’re-” His voice broke, deeper now. He leaned in, the space between them vanishing, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered like a confession.
“You’re turned on.” Her breath hitched, a protest dying on her lips.
But he was already gone - restraint snapping like glass. The engine hummed low, but inside the car, the air was electric. When he turned back to her, his glasses were already off, tossed carelessly onto the dash. His gaze was feral now - not the shy, bumbling farmboy, not the careful lover. This was Clark Kent unchained, the man who had been holding back every ounce of himself until now.
Clark’s large hand cupped the side of her throat, not squeezing, just holding. He pulls her closer as his lips brush against hers making her gulp.
“You laugh at me for being jealous,” he rasped, his thumb stroking her racing pulse.
“But you like it. Don’t you?” Y/n’s thighs pressed together again, and Clark’s eyes flicked down, darkening further. He inhaled sharply, and the growl that tore from his chest vibrated through the small space.
“God, you smell so good when you want me.” His mouth crashed onto hers before she could answer, a kiss nothing like the gentle ones he’d given her before. This one was fire - hungry, desperate, claiming every gasp and whimper as if he’d starved for it. The wheel that had been seconds from breaking under his grip? Forgotten.
Now it was Y/n’s waist he clutched, big hands spanning her easily as he dragged her across the seat and into his lap like she weighed nothing at all. The movement was rough, almost careless, the kind of effortless strength that reminded her exactly who he was. She barely had time to gasp before her back hit the leather, her body bouncing slightly with the force he tossed her down.
Clark crowded over her instantly, his breath hot against her lips as he leaned in close, caging her in with his size. His voice was a low growl, vibrating in his chest and sinking straight into her bones.
“I’ve been holding back for too damn long. No more.”
The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the ragged rhythm of his breathing: deep, uneven, as though restraint itself was slipping through his fingers. His grip on her never faltered: one hand locked tight around her waist, pinning her in place, the other fisting in her hair, tugging just enough to make her head tilt back for him. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the solid wall of muscle pressed against her, unyielding and immovable.
“You think I’ve been holding back?” he snarled, his lips grazing the edge of her jaw. His teeth followed, scraping against her skin just enough to sting, just enough to make her shiver. “You have no idea, sweetheart. No idea what I’ve been keeping from you.”
Y/n’s breath hitched, chest heaving as her hands clutched at his shirt, desperate and needy. His sheer size consumed her, made her feel small, trapped-yet she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She didn’t want to.
Her voice broke on a gasp, trembling with want. “Clark…”
He pulled back just far enough to smirk, eyes dark and sharp as a blade. “What’s wrong, honey? Not so shy now? This what you wanted?” His grip in her hair tightened, tilting her head further, exposing more of her throat to him. His mouth hovered over her skin, the threat of teeth making her pulse pound. “My sweet little intern, acting like such a good girl in the office… and now look at you.”
“Clark… don’t… don’t stop. Just… just let go,” she whispered, teasing him with the breath of encouragement. His brown eyes darkened, almost black in the dim interior of the car.
“You want me to let go?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to make her feel the restraint… and the promise behind it. “You’ll regret asking me that. You’ll remember exactly who you belong to.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and she pressed her thighs closer to him, giving him a subtle, urgent signal. Clark smelled it immediately -the sweet heat of her arousal, the way she’d been holding herself in the middle of his angry tirade.
That was it. The final barrier shattered. He crashed forward, hands exploring like a man starved for months. His lips crushed against hers, teeth tugging at her bottom lip as his tongue traced the edges, demanding entry. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer.
“You’re mine,” he growled between kisses, voice low and rough. “Every inch of you. Do you feel that? That shaking, that heat? That’s me, taking what’s mine.” Y/n tilted her head, chest heaving, shivering beneath him.
“Clark… Please, I want it all,” she gasped, voice shaking. He let out a throaty laugh, feral and unrestrained. “You think you can handle it?” His hands roamed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly, thumbs pressing into the soft curve of her thighs. “You think you can take me when I’m not being careful?”
“Yes!” she hissed, voice trembling but certain.
“I want you, Clark. I want all of you. Don’t stop.” That was all he needed. He leaned in, grinding against her, teeth grazing her shoulder as his hands roamed. Every pull, every press, every whisper of his voice sent shivers down her spine.
“You’re so good for me,” he breathed against her ear. “So damn perfect. And you thought I was holding back… oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” Y/n arched into him, hips pressing eagerly as he dragged his lips down her neck, his hands squeezing, kneading, claiming.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he claimed her mouth again, each kiss rough, demanding, desperate. His body pressed against hers, hands and mouth and teeth everywhere, hot, rough and urgent.
“You feel that?” he rasped, hips pressing against hers, cock throbbing. “That’s how much I’ve been holding back. That’s how much I’ve wanted you.” he pressed her down into the seat, dragging her to the edge of the unbearable heat, each kiss and each word of filthy praise marking her, claiming her.
“You’re mine,” he growled, low and reverent, lips brushing hers, teeth grazing as she shivered beneath him. “All of you. Don’t you forget it. You belong to me, Y/n”
Her fingers tangled in his hair, clinging to the back of his neck, chest heaving. “I know… I’m yours, Clark. Only yours!.”
That earned a dark chuckle. His mouth dragged down her collarbone, teeth scraping sharp against her skin as he pressed her further into the seat. “Good girl. That’s right. Only mine.”
His hands moved lower, stroking over her waist before gripping her blouse in both fists. With a single jerk, the fabric tore, buttons scattering across the seat. Her gasp was swallowed by his mouth as his palm skimmed over the new expanse of bare skin.
In the same breath, he was tugging her skirt down her thighs, not bothering with patience-just hauling the fabric away, leaving her trembling beneath him. His fingers hooked into her stockings next, peeling them down in long, dragging pulls that made her squirm. The rasp of fabric against her skin felt ghastly slow, deliberate, as if he wanted her to feel every inch bared for him.
Clark leaned in close, breath hot at her ear. One hand already slid between her thighs, his fingers pressing, stroking where she ached for him most.
“You taste like heaven,” he murmured, voice husky with need. “And I’ve been starving for it. You feel that? Just my fingers…” he circled once, slow and taunting, “…and you’re already this wet for me. You want it, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, Clark… I want all of you. Please, use me.” A growl tore from his chest. Clark leaned back just enough to shove his pants and briefs down, freeing himself. He was already hard, thick and throbbing, his cock straining in the air between them. His eyes never left her, burning with raw hunger.
“You want it, you little temptress?” he rasped, one hand sliding along her thigh while the other pinned her hip to the seat. “You want me inside you that badly?”
“Fuck… yes,” she breathed, trembling. “Please, Clark—I’m yours. All of me is yours.”
He pressed a finger to her entrance, pushing in slow at first, then driving deeper with rough, claiming strokes. Her cry filled the car as she arched into him.
“So wet for me,” he growled, teeth grazing her jaw. “And I’ve barely touched you. Do you know how long I’ve waited to take you like this? To ruin you for anyone else?”
Her answer broke on a gasp as her hand slipped down, wrapping around him. His hips jerked, a guttural sound ripping from his chest as she stroked him in time with his fingers.
“That’s it,” he groaned, curling a second finger inside her, stretching her. “Stroke me while I make you come apart. Give me everything, sweetheart.”
His mouth crashed onto hers, teeth and tongue leaving her breathless, lips breaking away only to growl against her ear. “Every time I touch you, you’ll remember—only me.”
Her hips rocked against his hand desperately her soft moans blending with his ragged breaths. His rhythm was relentless, possessive, dragging her higher and higher as she worked him with trembling hands.
Clark’s lips trailed down her throat, biting and liking marks in his wake. His voice was a rough whisper against her skin, shaking with need.
Her hips bucked helplessly against his hand, every thrust of his fingers pushing her closer, her body tightening around him. Clark’s forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged, eyes burning as she stroked him faster.
“Fuck, Y/N…” he groaned, his cock twitching in her grip, leaking hot pre cum that smeared across her fingers and palm with every desperate stroke. His hips jerked despite himself, the restraint he’d clung to slipping fast.
“That’s what you do to me. I’m dripping for you, sweetheart… and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”
His thumb pressed hard against her clit, relentless, sending sparks racing up her spine. The car filled with the slick sounds of her arousal, the rough drag of her hand on his cock, their breaths tangling into something frantic and raw.
Her body tightened all at once, the wave crashing over her as she cried out his name, cumming apart on his fingers. Clark’s groan was feral, his cock throbbing in her fist, spilling more pre across her hand as if he was right there with her-on the razor’s edge, undone by her release.
He caught her mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing her cries.
“Clark… please…” she moaned, fingers clutching his shoulders, thighs trembling.
He growled softly, leaning back just enough to meet her gaze, chest heaving. “I’m not done with you yet. Not until I’ve made sure you’re mine completely. Do you understand?”
“Yes… yes, Clark…” she whimpered, hips shifting instinctively toward him.
His hands gripped her thighs, pinning them firmly to the seat. One hand cupped her face, tilting her chin so their eyes met.
“Look at me,” he growled, voice dark with hunger. “I want to see you unravel when I take you. I want to hear you call my name.”
With a rough yank, he dragged her hips down against the seat, pinning her beneath his weight. His fingers worked her mercilessly, plunging deep until she was crying out, chest heaving, body trembling apart under his touch. The car’s interior felt too small for the heat between them, every gasp and moan echoing in the air.
Clark paused just long enough to fist a hand in her hair, pressing his forehead to hers, his chest rising hard against her own. “So perfect,” he rasped, lips brushing hers. “So fucking ready for me.”
“Clark… please,” she whimpered.
His answer was a rough, broken groan. He shifted, pressing himself against her slick heat, the blunt head of his cock nudging her entrance. For a fleeting second, he let her feel just the stretch of him-then greed devoured patience. His grip tightened, and he thrust in deep, his pelvis meeting hers. Filling her to the hilt in one relentless stroke.
Y/n’s cry tore through the car as her body clenched around him, the sudden fullness overwhelming. He gave her no time to adjust-his hips rolled again, harder, deeper, the car rocking with each greedy thrust.
Clark groaned as he thrust into her. He wanted her to memorize his shape and remember his cock for days.
Her nails dug into his shoulders as her voice broke into moans, his rough rhythm claiming her completely. There was no softness left—only raw, untamed Clark Kent, seeking his own pleasure and taking hers with it.
Clark’s thrusts grew rougher and greedier, the car rocking with every hard snap of his hips. His voice was nothing like the careful farmboy she knew, it was low, each word dripping with filth.
“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he rasped, teeth grazing her ear. “All those shy looks at the office, all those little sighs when you thought I didn’t notice. You’ve been acting out for weeks-just begging me to lose it. Well, here I am. You wanted the real me? You’ve got him.”
Y/n whimpered, clawing at his shoulders, her body tightening around him. “Clark!! fuck-I’m close, I’m gonna-”
His hand shot up, wrapping around her throat-not enough to hurt, but firm, commanding, pinning her in place as his hips drove harder into hers. Her breath hitched, eyes wide, the pressure leaving her dizzy and helpless beneath him.
“Oh no, not yet,” he growled, eyes burning down into hers. “You don’t get to come until I say so. You don’t get to fall apart unless I let you. You hear me?”
Her body shook, torn between desperation and submission, every nerve on fire. “Please,” she gasped, voice breaking. “Please, Clark—”
His thumb pressed against her pulse, feeling it hammer frantically. His thrusts slowed just enough to grind deep, burying himself to the hilt, dragging a strangled moan from her lips.
“That’s right,” he hissed, tightening his grip as she squirmed beneath him. “Hold it for me. You’ll take every inch I give you and you’ll wait like a good girl.”
Her walls fluttered around him, betraying her need, and his filthy smirk deepened. “God, you’re clenching so hard for me. You want to come so bad it’s pathetic.”
Clark’s thrusts stayed relentless, deep and punishing, but every time he felt her tighten around him, every time her moans broke into desperate whimpers, he slowed just enough to drag her back from the edge.
“Clark-please,” she sobbed, nails raking down his back. “I can’t—I need to—”
His hand tightened at her throat again, forcing her to meet his burning gaze. His smirk was cruel, feral, sweat dripping down his temple as his cock twitched deep inside her.
“You think you get to come without my permission?” His voice was rough silk, low and taunting, vibrating against her ear. “Not a chance. You’ll cry for me, sweetheart. You’ll beg. You’ll take every damn inch of me like the desperate little thing you are.”
Her tears slipped hot down her cheeks, her body trembling violently beneath him. “Please… I’ll do anything, Clark, please-”
The sound broke something in him. He groaned deep in his chest, rutting harder, faster, his thrusts brutal and unyielding. The car rocked with every slam of his hips, the leather squeaking under their bodies.
“That’s it,” he growled, his lips at her ear, his breath ragged. “That’s my dirty girl. Look at you-crying, begging, clinging to me like you’ll fall apart without my cock inside you. You’re mine. Mine to use, mine to ruin, mine to fuck until you can’t think straight.”
Her walls squeezed around him, spasming with desperate need, and his rhythm faltered, his own peak barreling toward him. He shoved deeper, grinding into her, not letting her breathe.
“You feel that?” he panted, voice breaking as his thrusts grew erratic. “I’m right there, baby. You’re gonna come with me-scream for me-.”
Her walls clenched around him, shuddering with need, and she gasped, voice breaking.
“Clark! I’m gonna-oh God, I’m cuming!”
His grip on her throat loosened slightly, and his lips found her ear, voice rough and trembling with desire.
“Then let go, babygirl,” he growled, thrusting deep and hard. “I’m gonna fill you up-every inch… and make sure nothing leaks out.”
He drove himself deeper, pressing into her so fully it was as if he were claiming every drop, every shudder, every gasp. Each movement was greedy, possessive, grounding him in the heat of her surrender. The tightness around him was exquisite, each squeeze a proof of her need-and his, as he lost himself in the delicious, consuming friction.
Her scream tore through the car as she shattered, convulsing around him, and he held her close, buried so deep that every thrust carried the weight of possession. His groans were primal, his chest heaving, voice rough with need.
Clark’s groan was guttural, primal, his forehead pressed to hers as he drove her through every aftershock. “Good girl… so tight… so perfect…,” he growled, each word a claim, each thrust a declaration. When she finally shuddered to rest, panting against him, he lowered his hips slightly, holding her close, hand tracing the curve of her back.
Clark pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, hand sliding down to cup her face, forehead resting against hers. The car was quiet now, the storm of their passion simmering down. Clark’s chest heaved as he pressed a lingering kiss to Y/n’s temple, forehead resting against hers. His large hands gently smoothed over her arms, checking for any bruises or marks he’d left behind.
“I… I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice soft and vulnerable. “I got carried away. I didn’t mean to… hurt you.”
Y/n cupped his face, thumb brushing across his cheek. “Clark… stop apologizing. I loved every bit of it.” She smiled, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling despite the lingering heat.
“You don’t have to apologize for being… you.” He exhaled, a little relieved, but still worried.
“I just… I know I left marks. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said, leaning into his chest, voice teasing but tender.
“I wanted it. Every mark…I’ve been wanting that side of you for so long.” Clark’s lips twitched into a shy, sheepish smile, the boyish humility returning.
“You’ve been wanting it?” Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of his jawline.
“Yeah. I was worried for a while actually…. I’ve noticed before… sometimes, you hold back. And I wondered… if maybe you weren’t… all in. Or if maybe you weren’t… attracted to me.” Clark’s gaze softened, warm and earnest.
“Oh, Love … it’s not that I’m not attracted to you. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. It’s just… I’ve always been afraid of losing control. Of hurting you. Of overwhelming you. I hold back because I want to be careful… but I never want you to think I don’t want you. Because I always want you. Every part of you.”
Y/n smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Clark… I don’t need careful all the time. I want all of you. I got it. And I loved every bit of it. I also love the Clark that’s worried and humble and gentle.” He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“You make it too easy to love you, you know that?”
They leaned into each other, lingering touches, soft kisses, and little giggles spilling out between them. Clark adjusted his suit coat over her bare shoulders, then took her hand in his, fingers lacing together naturally.
“I hold back because I want you to feel safe… and because I love you. So much.” he murmured, voice low and tender. Y/n’s eyes glistened as she cupped his face.
“I feel it, Clark. I always feel it. And I love you too. All of you… every side of you.” Clark laughed softly, resting his forehead against hers, a quiet, contented sound.
And there, in the quiet car, fogged windows framing their breaths and soft touches, they simply held each other a perfect mix of fire and tenderness, chaos and calm.
____________________________________________
A/N: Thank you all for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed 🥰❤️❤️
Summary: A forbidden bond. Y/N Hae-In, his half-sister by blood, yet her scent pulls him in. A possessive alpha who won’t let her go…
Word Count: 2.6k
The conference room of the Ahjin Guild HQ was quiet except for the shuffle of papers and the faint tapping of Jinho’s pen against his clipboard. Jinwoo sat at the head of the table, posture relaxed, one elbow resting on the armrest.
The door opened, and Cha Hae-In stepped in.
She didn’t hurry. She never did. Still in her hunter gear, her golden hair pulled into a low ponytail, strands clinging to the curve of her cheek from the steam of the post-raid shower she clearly hadn’t taken yet. She crossed the room without asking, sliding into the seat beside him as if it was hers by right.
“You’re late,” Jinwoo murmured, not looking at her at first.
“I was making sure your little stunt in that dungeon didn’t get anyone killed,” she replied smoothly, setting a folder on the table.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “That ‘stunt’ cleared the gate in half the expected time.”
Her lips quirked. “That ‘stunt’ also had me hauling two unconscious C-ranks back to the exit while you-what was it again?-‘handled it.’” She leaned back in her chair, arms folding across her chest, the faintest scent of steel and rain clinging to her skin.
Around the table, a few guild members shifted, glancing between them. This wasn’t unusual-Hae-In's and Jinwoo’s verbal sparring had become something of a spectator sport.
Jinwoo finally turned his head to meet her gaze. Close enough that if either of them leaned forward, their foreheads might touch. “Handled it,” he repeated, voice low and steady. “And you know I did.”
She arched a brow, holding his stare longer than most could withstand. “Fine. You handled it. But next time, try not to make my job harder.”
The corner of his jaw ticked. The easy way she said “my job” always made something primal in him itch. They were equals, but she was still an Alpha-untouchable. Not mine. The thought was unwelcome yet persistent.
“Noted,” he said at last, turning his attention back to the agenda. But he didn’t move his arm from where it brushed hers on the table.
The meeting rolled on, touching on gate schedules and resource distribution. Their voices were quieter now, but the tension lingered-sharp, magnetic. Jinwoo didn’t miss the way her hair swayed when she tilted her head toward him to make a point. He didn’t miss the faint curve of her smirk when she caught him looking.
“So,” Hae-In said casually during a lull, flipping a page in her notes, “speaking of the roster, there’s someone I want to put forward.”
Jinwoo glanced at her sidelong. “Another Alpha?” His tone was unreadable, but there was the faintest suggestion of disinterest.
“No,” she said, and something in her eyes shifted. “My sister.”
He stilled. “You have a sister?”
Her smirk deepened at his tone. “Half-sister. We don’t talk about her much because she’s been in America for years. She’s an S-rank. And…” She let the pause stretch. “…she’s an Omega.”
The air in the room shifted, almost imperceptibly. Jinwoo’s focus sharpened. Rare, an S-Rank Omega?. Unclaimed. His instincts stirred before he forced them down.
“An S-rank Omega,” he said evenly, as if weighing the words. “That’s… unusual.”
“She’s strong. Strong enough to replace me if she wanted.” Hae-In's voice held both pride and a warning.
Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming once on the armrest. . “Bring her in tomorrow. I’d like to see for myself.”
Hae-In’s gaze narrowed. “Careful. She’s nothing like me.”
He let the faintest smirk curl his lips. Good. I don’t need another Alpha.
The meeting adjourned shortly after. Jinwoo left first, the weight of anticipation coiled low in his chest- alien, unwelcome, but undeniable. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
____________________________________________
By the time the next day rolled around, Jinwoo was already at his wits’ end.
Not only had the morning raids not gone to his liking, none of them delivering the precision or results he expected-but his shadows had been restless. They rippled through him as if anticipating something. He couldn’t tell whether they sensed danger or something else entirely, but it did nothing to help his already fraying mood.
A soft knock came at the door before it cracked open. Hae-In peeked in, her hair done neatly today. Jinwoo noticed immediately, he always did. You’d have to be blind not to notice how breathtaking Cha Hae-In was.
He had always wondered how things might have been if she were an Omega. But rules were rules-Alphas could not mate with Alphas. There was no true spark, no lasting bond. That didn’t stop him from letting his gaze rake over her figure with quiet hunger.
“What is it?” he said coolly, still tapping away at his keyboard, the failed mission reports from the morning spread across his desk.
“I’m assuming someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Hae-In teased, still lingering by the door.
“I’m not in the mood, Cha. State your business.”
“Jeez, alright. My sister? You were going to interview her today-she’s already here. Can I tell her to come in?”
Jinwoo nearly groaned. He’d forgotten entirely about the interview. He gave her a curt nod, signaling for her to do so, and started looking for the file. But then-
It hit him.
No. It slammed into him.
A scent-warm, alluring, intoxicating-rolled through the room, making his nostrils flare and his pupils darken as he inhaled greedily. Notes of honey, coffee, a sunny afternoon, and sweet vanilla wrapped around him in a way that made every nerve stand on edge. His shadows stirred restlessly. His inner wolf howled.
And it wasn’t Hae-In.
“Cha,” Jinwoo called through clenched teeth.
“Yes, boss?”
“Your scent. It’s… changed.” His voice was low, wary. His eyes stayed locked on her, tracking every movement. The scent was around her, but it wasn’t hers.
“Oh? In a good way or a bad way? I did change my shampoo-lavender is quite lovely.”
Lavender?
The pen in his hand creaked under his grip, seconds away from snapping in two. Lavender was not the scent that was unraveling him.
“Bring her in,” Jinwoo managed, the words edged with something sharp. Hae-In gave a small nod and left the room.
He flipped through the papers with deliberate slowness, half grateful-half desperate-that the scent belonged to someone else. Maybe Cha had passed by an Omega in heat on her way here. Yes. That was reasonable. Logical. Jinwoo told himself this twice, three times, trying to believe it. Because if the person who owned that scent walked into his office, he wasn’t sure he could keep control.
The file came open in his hands:
Cha Y/n . Twenty-three years old. Graduated from the University of California with a degree in life sciences before awakening as an S-Rank Hunter. Affiliated with the Hunter Guild in America, involved in multiple successful missions.
Impressive. Very impressive.
His gaze locked on the final detail.
Second gender: Omega.
A shiver ran down his spine. She would be the first Omega in Ahjin if he hired her. It was a risk-a lone, unmated Omega in a den full of Alphas. But Jinwoo trusted his people. They wouldn’t dare touch her. Not under his protection.
A soft knock broke his thoughts. Jinwoo straightened in his seat, steeling himself.
“Come in.”
The door eased open, and in stepped a petite girl, no taller than 5 feet. H/c hair curled neatly, framing a face with wide, doe-like eyes and a soft smile, made more arresting by the small dimple in her cheek. She wore a blush-pink blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, a gentle elegance in every step.
She held two cups of coffee.
The scent rolled in behind her like a tide-coffee, vanilla, and honey. It was hers.
Jinwoo’s inner wolf howled louder, clawing against the cage of his control. His fingers tightened on the desk as if anchoring him to reality. His pulse roared in his ears.
“Good morning! I’m Cha Y/n!”
Her voice was soft, warm, bright—like sunlight spilling into the room. Jinwoo barely registered her crossing the space to place one of the coffees on his desk, or the way her smile seemed to make the air itself lighter.
All he could hear was his own inner voice, low and certain, thrumming through his bones:
Mate.
~~~~~~~~
The coffee sat untouched on Jinwoo’s desk.
Not because it wasn’t good-he hadn’t even tasted it yet-but because every time he lifted the cup, the scent of its giver rose with the steam and threatened to undo him.
Cha Y/n sat across from him, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture straight but not rigid. She gave off an ease that most S-ranks didn’t have-a warmth that made her seem smaller than the room when in reality, the room felt smaller because of her.
Cha lingered by the door, arms crossed loosely as if this was just another casual introduction. Jinwoo knew better. She was watching her sister. And he was watching her sister. For very different reasons.
“Alright,” Jinwoo said, voice low, measured. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your experience in the field?”
Y/n brightened instantly. “Of course. I joined the San Francisco Hunter Guild at nineteen. I started as a support, mostly handling logistics and extraction. But after my awakening, I shifted into active fieldwork. I’ve cleared over a dozen S-rank gates and served as team lead for four.”
Her voice was like silk over steel-soft but certain. Jinwoo’s gaze dragged over her face, the way her lips curved slightly when she spoke, the subtle flush in her cheeks. His wolf pushed forward, closer, closer, she’s yours.
He forced himself to lean back in his chair instead. “Impressive. And your… second gender never caused issues with your team?”
Her brow furrowed slightly at the question, but she kept her tone light. “Not really. Most of them were professional about it. And if they weren’t, I made it clear I could take care of myself.”
The corner of Jinwoo’s mouth tugged upward, not from amusement, but from something darker. You shouldn’t have to take care of yourself. Not when you have me.
Hae-In cut in, “She’s understating. She once put a full-grown Alpha on the ground in under thirty seconds.”
Y/N laughed softly. “That was… a misunderstanding.”
Jinwoo’s grip on the armrest tightened. “I’d like to hear about that incident.”
“Oh—uh—it was a training match that got a little heated. He didn’t respect my boundaries, so I showed him why he should.” Her eyes glinted with quiet defiance before softening again. “It was nothing dramatic.”
He wanted to ask who the Alpha was. He wanted a name, a face, and the chance to make sure they never breathed near her again.
Instead, he said, “Good. Boundaries are important.”
They moved on to questions about her combat style, preferred weaponry, and specialization in gate environments. She answered each one thoughtfully, sometimes gesturing lightly with her hands, the faint scent of her skin drifting toward him with every movement. His shadows quivered under the desk, restless.
Halfway through, she leaned forward to explain a particular strategy she used in water-heavy dungeons. The motion brought her scent closer-honey, vanilla, coffee-wrapping around his senses like a vice. His wolf growled low in his chest, a sound only he could hear.
Take her. Mark her. Now.
He swallowed hard, speaking evenly. “That’s a clever approach. I can see why your success rate is so high.”
Her smile in response was bright enough to burn.
Hae-In shifted against the wall, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got another meeting, but you two can finish without me.”
Jinwoo didn’t move, didn’t blink, until the door clicked shut.
The moment it did, the air changed.
Without Cha’s presence, the space between them felt electric, charged. Jinwoo leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking on hers. “Do you always bring coffee to your interviews?”
She laughed softly. “Only when I think the person I’m meeting might need it.”
His fingers curled slowly on the desk. She’s thoughtful. Kind. Mine.
“I appreciate it,” he said, voice quieter now. “Though I think it’s the best cup I’ve ever had.”
Her cheeks flushed faintly. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”
He did. He liked everything. Too much.
By the end of the interview, he’d asked every standard question-and a few that weren’t on the form at all-just to keep her in the room a little longer. When she finally stood, thanking him for his time, he rose as well, unable to stop himself from tracking every movement.
Her hand brushed the edge of his desk as she turned to leave.
He nearly followed.
____________________________________________
He hired her.
Of course he did. He would be a fool not to hire his fated mate-make sure she worked for him, keep her close. Even though her scent alone drove him to madness, he had to restrain himself. She didn’t know how much of an effect she had on him, and he intended to keep it that way. For now.
He wouldn’t dream of forcing anything on her. The only shred of common sense and respect tethering him was held by a thin thread, telling him to wait….allow her to come to him, to feel the same, to fall in love with him. He knew he was playing the long game, but it was worth it.
“One orientation and two preliminary assessments?” Beak Yoonho, Jinwoo’s fellow S-rank and friend, murmured as he flipped through Y/n’s file in Jinwoo’s office.
“Yes. She’s quick on her feet-I don’t think she’d need more assessments.” Jinwoo felt her aura and strength even from the papers. She was an elemental manipulator, specializing in fire and ice. Formidable. He didn’t think she needed the assessments, though they were necessary to understand her style and how it might complement the team. Either way, her position here was written in stone.
“Cha should be done with her orientation soon. Who’s assessing her?” Yoonho glanced at his watch. Jinwoo stood from his desk, and Yoonho followed him out toward the training facilities.
“The first round will be Choi Jong-In, and you’ll do her second round. I’ll oversee everything, of course,” Jinwoo said as they reached the upper deck overlooking the training floor.
The room was large but not as vast as the other training halls. Below, Choi was warming up, fingers flickering with flames. Upon sensing their presence, he waved to them. Jinwoo was about to return the greeting when his body tensed-the scent entered the hall.
She stepped onto the mat wearing leggings and a sports bra. Her arms and midriff were visible, and Jinwoo was anything but okay.
He nearly salivated. She looked gorgeous, her friendly smile lighting up the room as she introduced herself to Choi. She smelled divine, and Jinwoo felt his heart stop. His fists clenched against the railing as their assessment began.
She moved like a goddess-like she owned the floor. She was indeed an S-rank and more. Jinwoo watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck and in between the valley of her breasts. A shiver of pleasure ran through him. Flashes of imagined touches, kisses, and whispered moans played in his mind as he struggled to keep it together.
How it would feel to kiss along her neck, to lick her nape and taste her skin-oh gods, what he would give to taste her. To feel her quiver under his fingers. To hear her moan and beg for him when he thrusts deep-
“Isn’t she perfect?” Hae-In's voice stopped Jinwoo from imagining further. He straightened, cleared his throat, and subtly adjusted his pants.
“Yes. She’s quite impressive. I’ll get ready for my assessment with her.” Yoonho excused himself to prepare.
Hae-In leaned on the railing beside Jinwoo, watching him hungrily watch her sister.
“She’s my sister, boss,” Hae-In reminded softly, making him snap his eyes to her.
“I’m aware,” he said coldly, his possessive alpha shining through.
“Good. Because she’s too pure, and I’d hate for anyone to corrupt her.”
Too late, Jinwoo thought. He wanted to corrupt her, worship her, love her, own her, mark her… ruin her.
