An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: ZoSan, Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Monkey D. Luffy, Nami (One Piece), Charlotte Pudding, Nico Robin, Tony Tony Chopper, Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates, Vinsmoke Reiju, Charlotte "Big Mom" Linlin, Vinsmoke Family (One Piece)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Trauma, Childhood Trauma, Feelings Realization, AU, Soulmates, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, One Piece Universe, Headcanon, Tumblr Prompt
Summary:
This is a Tumblr prompt from the OP baashu(3 straw hat emojis). Premise is a Soulmate AU where Zoro and Sanji can feel each other's emotions. Sanji is on WCI and Zoro in Wano is worrying for his crush, but Zoro doesn't want his emotions to impact the mission in WCI so he sends Caring Vibes to help Sanji cope. Sanji feels Zoros worry, which helps Sanji to continue the plan of escaping his awful family and help Luffy crush Big Mom. The split crew reunite in Wano and ZoSan get to reunite, get emotional and be grateful for the support Zoro sent Sanji.
: content ⌕ the tattoos on avatar!aang's body, glowing when he's overstimulated.
18 + avatar!aang x reader, soft intimacy, piv, fem!reader on top, overstimulation, male whimpering and pleading, orgasm, post sex, requested.
the glow began at the base of his spine... a humming blue that crept up the markings of his back. AANG'S hips met yours, following your moving command above him.
... once again, the glow began its movements, spreading to his other tainted parts as his muscles tensed under your palms. his breath left in ragged bursts, breezy to your collarbone, and when you stirred your weight ever so slightly... his markings pulsed brighter.
you traced the arrow on his forehead with your thumb, feeling the cooling skin under your touch. his lips parted to let out a groan weaved with a plea... the second you rocked against him, pushing slow.
aang’s hands slithered up your back, drawing you closer until there was no space left to separate you from him... every breath you took was mingled. his forehead fell to yours, his eyes locked onto yours with a security that was more than enough. his eyes flickered open and shut in the midst of pleasure, and it was only then did you realise his markings weren’t the only thing alight, tonight.
he whispered something onto your lips, way too quiet to behold, but the way his hips angled upward in response told you everything.
your palms roamed up his arm, rested over his collarbone, then travelled higher to cradle his jaw in your hands. his skin was fever-hot on your finger, making it seem every surface of him was burning, apart from his markings. when your thumb swiped the corner of his mouth, he turned his face into the calling of your touch, lips open to a gasp that was half your name, like it was the only word left in him.
"you're..." he tried to speak, failing by any means as your hips plunged down again. those parts flared elemental, rippling out to be your light in a room so dark. his eyes shot wide, and the glow there was him, the avatar state simmering just beneath the surface. you expected him to pull back, to wrestle control, but instead he dragged you down until he hid his shameful face in the crooks of your neck.
aang's hips rolled beneath you in shallow thrusts, each one breaking him down in sacrifice for an energy generating within, that had nowhere left to go but into the press of your joined bodies, the slick slide of skin on skin.
you ushered him out from hiding, shrugging your shoulder to curl in and capture his mouth to yours... his fingers tightened on your hips... his heartbeat raced, faster as you changed to a circular motion of the hips... his eyelids quivered.
as of now, his markings glowed so brightly, that they cast shadows across your bare chest. you posed your palm to his own chest, feeling the wildness of a heartbeat ... it seemed he decided it was your turn to be held, when his hands flew up with thumbs caressing your cheeks... the gesture was unbearably tender for how wrecked he looked in your eyes, how close he was.
"... aang," you breathed, his fingers trembled on your cheek.
he finally managed a word, so vulnerable. "...please.." the avatar state became one with him again, but not once did he try to fight it... he let it wash over him in waves, and ripple through his body and into yours as his hands held your thighs gently in place, pulling you flush against him with a strained exhale.
his blue glow shone like an unescapable diamond, in its final shatters before fading entirely. aang's body was limp down under you... his hands never stopped showing you love though he released... trailing up your sides, skimming over your ribs...
he swallowed, working up to finally fill the after silence. tender and overworked, he spoke sweet words as a result of deep lovemaking. "I think," he murmured, lips kissed your collarbone, "you might be the only person who’s ever touched me without wanting something from me first."
... of course you knew... about his place in the world, the endless expectations he carried. his hands moved up and down your back. "tonight, I think I might have shone brighter than I ever have done before.."
"and it’s all thanks to you just… wanting me," aang added, quieter now, and the ache in his voice was worse than any sob...
atla masterlist . . . . . ↷
all atla and aang works ࿔ ✎ join the taglist? for future works.
enjin’s so fucking obsessed with fucking you full. — cw ; multiple rounds, dirty talk, breeding kink, masked sex, very very mild dubcon, enjin being enjin, MATING PRESS GANG
enjin had you bent over the edge of the couch in his private rooms. one tattooed arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your hip so tight you’d be for sure wearing the bruise of his hand for days. the radio blared quietly in the background - not that you could focus on anything coming from it. not even earlier when you pretended to hang out and listen until his lips found yours.
everything spiraled from there, and here you were now.
“fuck,” he groaned against your shoulder, his voice thick with want, “you don’t even know what you do to me, baby. the second you walked in wearing that little outfit? i knew i wasn’t gonna let you leave without filling you up.”
his words were filth wrapped in adoration. his hips slammed into yours from behind, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the dark room, rhythmic and obscene. he was so deep it made you dizzy. his cock dragged over every sensitive spot, every thrust claiming you, making you tremble.
“enjin,” you whined, gasping when he hit that perfect angle again. “too much—”
“too much?” he rasped darkly, breath ragged. “no baby. thats barely enough. gotta make sure it takes.”
he pulled out and groaned at the sight of your creamy cunt. a few times he slapped his swollen tip against your entrance, smearing his precum up and down your slit. then he slid back in so torturously slow that you could feel every inch and vein.
“y’know i think about it all the time,” he murmured against your spine. “how pretty you’d look knocked up. stuffed full of me. round with my baby. fuck.”
your moan was broken and high pitched when he shifted you. a moment later you were on your back, legs thrown over his shoulder, and his weight pressed you deeply into the cushions of the couch.
the mating press - his favorite.
yours too, because he always got so deep like this. his thick cock bullied your cunt like it belonged there. he was carving a home in you, and it turned you on. so fucking much.
“this is where you’re meant to be,” he said against your mouth shakingly. “under me like this, letting me fuck you full. you’re gonna take all of it, okay? gonna let me make you mine.”
“yes enjin. yours. mmm. you’re mine too,” you nodded, dazed and breathless.
your eyes rolled back as he pounded into you. his pace was so brutal and desperate at the same time. he was losing control. so close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts started to falter.
“gonna cum,” he warned. “where do you want it?”
“inside,” you whimpered. “please, please inside—”
that was all it took.
he growled your name and slammed into you with one final thrust. his cock twitched hard, throbbed, as he spilled deep inside your quivering cunt. warm wetness bloomed where you were already stretched and stuffed.
enjin didn’t stop moving. even while orgasming he rutted into you, grinding it in while his big hands kept your hips pinned down.
“just like that,” he whispered hoarsely. “fuck, take it. take all of it. gonna give you everything, baby. gonna keep going until you’re full.”
when he finally let your legs down he didn’t pull out right away. he kept himself buried inside you, chest to chest, golden eyes soft but still blown with lingering lust. you felt so safe there, wrapped up in his arms, flushed and fucked out and owned.
“you okay?” he asked, brushing sweaty hair from your face.
“yeah,” you whispered, “but i don’t think i can walk.”
he chuckled and kissed your forehead. “that’s fine. i wasn’t planning on letting you get up anyway. not until i’m sure you’re bred.”
you let out a giggle as he lifted you up. legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you to his bed where you fell asleep, with you warming his cock the whole night.
or, so you thought.
your thighs were shaking as you slid out from beneath him in bed. the sheets were damp, your body slick with sweat and your inner thighs coated with the sticky mess he’d left in you. you winced as your core clenched involuntarily, still tender and full. you needed to pee. needed to clean up. every step to the bathroom left a drip down your thigh and all you could think was how much he’d given you. he always came a lot, but this time had been something else.
lately he had been more possessive than usual.
the rooms were dark and silent as you got to the bathroom. you didn’t bother with the light as you shuffled over to the toilet, but before you could sit down —
a presence.
you froze, an involuntarily scream tore from you. followed by an arm that snatched around your waist from behind, a hand covering your mouth before the sound could leave your throat. your wide eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror.
enjin stood behind you - tall, bare-chested - and wearing his fucking mask.
“‘jin—what the fuck—” came out muffled behind his palm.
“where do you think you’re going?” he growled in your ear, voice distorted and low beneath the mask. “you think i fucked you full just to let it leak out in the toilet?”
he bent you over the sink before you could answer. his hand yanked your hips back and you felt him already hard again, hot and angry against your ass.
“no. wait, please—” you gasped.
he shoved back inside you in one brutal thrust. you choked on the intrusion, nails scraping the edge of the porcelain sink as your eyes rolled. he didn’t give you time to adjust. just started slamming into you, his hips pistoning like a man possessed.
“you’re gonna hold it,” he hissed through the mask. “gonna keep it. i worked too damn hard filling you up, baby. you’re not wasting a drop.”
your mouth fell open, drool slipping down your chin as the pain-mixed-pleasure washed over you. his rhythm was cruel, merciless with sharp snaps of his hips that hit deep. his grip bruising your hips, fucking into you so hard the mirror rattled. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small bathroom, vulgar and raw. you could barely stand it.
“i love seeing you like this,” he hissed. “trying so hard to stay quiet while i ruin you. you scream, you wake the other cleaners.”
your legs buckled. your body shook. and when you came, it was messy and feral and devastating. you moaned behind his hand. no, you were crying, overstimulated and helpless. your pussy clenched around him as he kept fucking you through it. he groaned, hips stuttering, and you felt it again. hot spurts deep inside, mixing with the first load, making a mess of your insides all over again.
he didn’t let go until you were trembling and limp in his arms, forehead pressed to the mirror, mascara smudged, lips bitten red.
“you’re not cleaning up,” he whispered darkly, removing his mask just enough to kiss your shoulder. “you’re going back to bed like this. plugged up. dripping full. mine.”
he carried you there like you were breakable glass, even though five minutes ago, he nearly shattered you against that sink. you were absolutely boneless, babbling nonsense as he tugged you back in and made sure you didn’t leave the bed again.
the next morning you wake up to the smell of breakfast. you hear plates clinking and the soft hum of enjin whistling some random melody.
you shifted in bed, sore between your thighs and your body aching in that deeply satisfying way. but you also felt the tinge of overuse, the dull throb that told you last night’s bathroom session hadn’t exactly been…gentle. it had been hot. so fucking hot. but now?
“babe?” came a soft voice from the doorway.
you turned your head and there he was. shirtless, hair a fluffy, chaotic mess, carrying a tray with some bread, chocolate cream and two mugs of coffee. his eyes met yours and immediately dropped.
“oh fuck,” he mumbled. “you’re limping, aren’t ya?”
you laughed. “only a little.”
he looked wrecked. not in the sexy, post-sex way, but in the i’ve been pacing the hallways thinking about how hard i railed you while wearing a mask way.
“i’m so sorry,” he said, walking over and setting the tray on the nightstand. “i didn’t mean to get so rough. i saw you leaving the bed, and i… i just snapped. you were leaking and i thought—fuck, i just got this thing in my head and i didn’t stop to ask if—”
you silenced him with a kiss. “it’s okay, enjin,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “you were hot. a little crazy, but hot. i liked it.”
he let out a relieved sigh and kissed your knuckles. “i just wanted to take care of you this morning. thought i’d make breakfast, rub your legs, maybe beg for forgiveness if you were still mad…”
you grinned, slowly sliding the sheet down your body, revealing the curve of your hips, bare and inviting. his eyes locked onto your skin like it owed him money.
“well,” you murmured sweetly, “since you’re already being such a good boyfriend…”
he blinked at you.
“hey, babe?”
his breath hitched. “yeah?”
you leaned in closer, brushing your lips along his jaw. “three times is the charm.”
his brain short-circuited. you didn’t have to ask again. he set the tray aside, climbed onto the bed and hovered above you. his expression a soft mixture of reverence and hunger. this wasn’t the man from last night. this was your enjin, all warm, sweet, heart pounding with love and cock already hard between your thighs.
he guided himself to your entrance and slid in slowly while he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. your leg curled around his waist, the other over his shoulder. the mating press wasn’t brutal this time. it was tender and deep. his body pressed you down into the mattress, hips rolling with slow, reverent purpose.
“still full of me,” he whispered, watching your face as he moved. “but i wanna give you more. want you to feel how much i love you.”
you whimpered. one arm wrapped around his neck, lips meeting his again and again. his pace never quickened. he gave you long, dragging strokes that had your toes curling and your heart clenching. he kissed your tears when they came, overwhelmed and overstimulated in the best way. his praise was quiet and endless.
“you’re perfect.”
“you take me so well.”
“this is where you belong. right here. with me.”
when he came, it was with a shaky moan and a broken “i love you,” and you felt it pulse deep inside - warm and full, just like his heart.
he didn’t move for a long time. he just held you, buried in you, murmuring promises into your skin.
and later, when he finally pulled out and brought you your now-cold breakfast, he fed you bites by hand, grinning when you moaned for syrup like it was foreplay. you were still sore. still dripping. still his. but damn if the third time wasn’t the charm.
SYNOPSIS: sukuna's looking for someone to handle a delicate piercing, and you're the only piercer he trusts with the job. you both struggle to keep your interactions professional during his numerous appointments- but who's to say what will happen when it's all healed and done?
18+ mdni - WARNINGS: just 10k of porn with plot, unprofessional workplace environment, dick piercings, needles!, oral m!receiving, face fucking, degradation, praise, impact play (face & ass smacking), teasing, humping, riding, standing sex, multiple orgasms, power play, alternating power dynamics— switch kuna and switch reader, pet names, slight edging, pain kink, slight mention of blood, heavy sexual tension, nipple play, choking, creampie, sloppy makeouts, some ass play
A/N: first long one shot that im reposting from my old blog. thank you again for 1k and thank u peps for the title :p
Working in a piercing shop in a big city meant you got a mixed bag of clients. High school kids coming in with their parents for their first nose piercing, college girls getting their bellies pierced together, guys getting their eyebrows done. And you even did the piercings that other professionals sometimes strayed away from due to their… delicate nature.
But whether it was a simple lobe piercing or clitoral hood— you did them all.
The first time you saw Sukuna, he'd come to your shop for an appointment with one of your colleagues to get some tattoos done.
Well, some was an understatement.
He'd come by in the morning every time and wouldn't leave til the shop closed, booking out the entire day. Give or take a year and he looked completely different.
Head to toe, there were thick, onyx bands decorating his chiseled form in a way that was near mesmerizing with each movement, each ripple of his muscles.
It's not like he changed. Even before the ink he was big, burly— certainly larger than any man you'd ever met before. And from the bits and pieces of conversation you'd picked up on, he was rough around the edges.
Always barking out a sharp laugh, voice low and booming. Everything about him commanded attention in such an effortless way, something that most other men wished for.
So no, he didn't really change (apart from his looks) it was actually like he became more himself.
You'd expected that if he ever came back to the shop, it would be for touch ups, maybe to even add more to his collection of designs.
But what you didn't expect, was for him to come back asking for you.
"Where's that girl? The one that does the piercings," his voice rings out through the shop, distinct and gravelly. You know it's him before you even see him.
You poke your head out from the back of the shop, where your room is, your eyes landing on the broad, hulking figure at the end of the hall. Your waiting room isn't small by any means, but it certainly seems that way with him standing in the middle of it.
"You have an appointment?" you question, racking your brain because you can't remember seeing anyone on your calendar at this time— and you'd remember if Sukuna had signed up.
He responds quickly to the sound of your voice, crimson stare finding you immediately. "Nah, not yet," he starts, long legs carrying him towards you with confident strides, "I wanna make one though."
"Oh yeah, of course." You beckon him into your studio, gesturing for him to sit down. And you have to stifle a laugh at the look on his face when he sees the little wooden chairs you have lined up against the wall.
You'd thrifted them a while ago for clients that like to bring a friend or family member with them, but it's a little comedic seeing someone of Sukuna's stature taking a seat in one. For someone so large he was sure moving gingerly, expression suspicious as he carefully dropped his full weight onto the vintage piece.
"Don't worry, it won't break," you assure him, but the wood creaking right after makes you doubt yourself a little.
"You sure 'bout that?" he questions, tone flat but laced with something akin to amusement.
"Well, I guess we'll see," you shrug. "Anyways, you said you wanted to make an appointment?"
He grunts in lieu of a 'yeah'. "Wanna get a piercing done and heard you'd be the best for it."
You hum softly, resting a hip on the side of your counter, your arms crossing in front of you as you look over him. You're curious as to what he's planning to get done. There's plenty of talented piercers in your city, but if he's convinced that you're the one for the job then it must be…
"I wanna pierce my dick." Yep.
He waits, eyes scanning your face for any evidence of shock, maybe a little look of approval to feed his ego. He tries not to care when he gets nothing, just you nodding your head indifferently as you reach for your ipad to pull up an appointment form.
"You know what kind of piercing you want?" you ask, gaze cutting back up to his once you get the form set up.
"Jacob's ladder," he replies smoothly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
That gets a reaction from you.
The slightest ghost of a smile graces your lips and he can feel his chest swelling with pride. He shouldn't really care, he doesn't even know you, but ultimately, he's a confident man who likes to get what he wants. And from the first time he saw you in the shop— tight tank top clinging to your chest, leading away some client who was following you like a lost puppy— he wanted you.
And Sukuna knows he's better than the other losers you pierce, probably just asking you for something basic, something you do every week. He knows from your coworker how often they ask you out, thinking that they have a chance, just for you to politely turn them down and complain about it later. They never had a chance, but Sukuna? He knows he has a chance.
That much was obvious with the way you'd curiously peek in during his appointments, eyes slowly raking over his figure each time, drinking in the sight of him before asking how it was going.
"Good choice?" he asks, standing and crossing over to you as you keep scribbling on the ipad with your stylus.
"They're not too common," you muse, shifting to face him. You ignore the flush creeping up into your cheeks when you see just how close he is now. "But they're a personal favorite so… I'd say yes."
Sukuna's grin widens. "Personal favorite, huh? Favorite to pierce—" his voice drops as he leans down, hovering over you as your lower back presses into the counter, "or to look at?"
Your breath hitches in your throat at the warm feeling of his breath fanning close to your face, and you pray he didn't catch it. But he did. His tongue darts out quickly to wet his lips as his gaze flicks between your eyes and your cleavage.
Recovering quickly, you set the ipad aside, hands coming to rest behind you on the counter. You pretend you don't know what you're doing— pushing your chest out towards him, head craning back slightly to look up at him with that innocent look on your face. You flash him another smile of your own. "Both."
You know it's not professional. But was it so bad to indulge every once in a while? Sukuna was attractive, very much your type, and very much into you.
Your mind flashes through memories of lame dates and unsatisfying hookups, a montage of your depressing sex life as you look over him once more. Every muscle is defined, like they want to show you that they're right where they need to be, his body practically radiating heat. You take in the way his compression shirt sticks to him like a second skin, the way his shorts bunch up ever so slightly around his crotch because his thighs are just that big. Not to mention his voice— the timbre, the way each word rolls so smoothly off his tongue.
Everything about him oozes sex appeal, and you can't help but feel like you'd be crazy not to capitalize on his interest in you.
"Oi, my eyes are up here."
Your head snaps up to see a shit-eating grin on Sukuna's face. That seems to be his signature expression. "Huh?"
"You were starin' at my dick. Not very professional," he tuts.
You roll your eyes, heat pricking just beneath the surface of your skin as you realize that you were just staring at his dick. "Well i'm gonna be piercing it, aren't I? Just checking it out for the job, y'know?"
Sukuna nods slowly. "Right, right," he affirms sarcastically.
"Shut up," you mumble, turning back around so you don't have to see him anymore, worried that your face might betray you even more. "Anyways, it's probably going to be a few sessions—"
You're cut off when a large hand comes to rest beside yours on the counter top. You don't have to see him to know the way he's looming over you again, nearly caging you in.
"Go on," he urges, other hand coming up to scratch his chin as he listens, like he's not being the world's greatest distraction.
"It's easier on the healing process if we just do a few barbells at a time, but there's some wiggle room there with exactly how many you want to do each session," you explain, mentioning that the first appointment can be used as a trial run. He can gauge the pain level and see how many he can handle at a time. After that, you'll determine roughly how many more appointments to schedule.
"So how long's this whole thing gonna take?" he asks gruffly.
"Well… with a couple months between each appointment it could take around a year give or take— but it all depends."
"Alright, think i can do that," he hums, "anything different about the healing process that I should know about?"
You reiterate the basics that he probably already knows, given the jewelry adorning his face already. "… Other than that, it's just no sex for a while."
Sukuna freezes. He didn't think that part through. He'd been so focused on the aftermath— of what it'd be like to have sex once he got it done— that he completely forgot about the whole time during the piercing process.
"How long is a while?" he questions, quieter than his usual self, making you chuckle.
"Well ideally you'd wait until they're all healed," you start, neck craning to see the disappointed look on his face, "but if you're certain that the ones you already have done are healed before your next appointment, obviously I can't stop you. I would still recommend wearing a condom to keep it drier though, and be sure to clean them after."
"Oh, thank god. Okay."
Your eyes narrow. "Don't go sleeping around if they're not ready just because you can't keep it in your pants, Sukuna."
Sukuna shoots you a look of feigned scandalization, free hand coming up to his chest. "Sleep around? Who do you think I am?"
"I think you're someone who likes to sleep around."
That pulls a laugh from him, a low, rumbling sound that makes your stomach flip. "Maybe. But don't worry, I wouldn't wanna mess up your work."
"Better not," you mutter, poking him with the stylus. "Now sign here."
After ironing out a few more details, Sukuna's first appointment was set for a week out. He paid the deposit and made for the door, the bell chiming softly above his head as he left, flashing you a quick wink over his shoulder.
You're behind the counter when Sukuna returns. The glass door sliding open, a wave of heat rolling in with him as he steps out of the summer sun and into the air conditioned waiting room. You glance up from where you were scrolling on your phone, pretending to be busy but more-so just trying to distract yourself from the anticipation of seeing the tattooed man again.
You aren't really one to get nervous before appointments, but you can't help the swirling feeling low in your gut. It has less to do with the thought of actually piercing him, and more to do with the thought of being confined in that small room with him again— this time with his dick out.
Your spine straightens, standing taller as Sukuna strides over to you. Large hands rest on the glass display case between you both, fingers drumming on the top.
"Long time no see," he grins, gaze hungrily trailing over you, just as it does every time he sees you. He lingers on your chest, lips twitching at the sight of your cleavage in the low-cut top you decided to wear today.
All you can do is hope that it's not too obvious the effect he's having on you as you mutter a sarcastic "funny."
"I try," Sukuna shrugs, always cocky. He shifts, coming down to rest on his forearms, the thick limbs stretched out towards you.
Veins litter his tanned skin, running up perpendicular to the nicely healed tattoos, the dark ink a complement to the black painted on his nails. You instinctively shift closer, hips near pressing against the counter, against his fingers that are much too close. They twitch, drifting towards you just enough to brush along the hem of your shirt, soft enough where he could play it off as an accident. But you know better.
You ignore it. You ignore the way that when you don't react, it only spurs him on to tug the fabric lightly between his fingers, playing with it as you ask him about the jewelry he wants. "Silver or gold?"
Sukuna hums like he needs a moment to think about it— like all the metal already planted in his face isn't silver. He just wants an excuse to stay there a moment longer. Until you clear your throat, arms crossing in front of your chest as you look at him expectantly. "Silver's good."
"Finally," you grumble, but it lacks any real bite. "Follow me."
He lets go and you lead him to the back, the heavy weight of his gaze bringing goosebumps to your skin. You don't need to see him to know he's staring right at your ass. It's not like it's his fault, he reasons silently, maybe if you weren't sauntering away, hips swaying side to side with each step, he wouldn't be ogling so hard.
You point to the table as you walk in, not bothering to check if he's watching you— you already know he is, "sit."
"Yes ma'am," he practically purrs as he seats himself on the cushioned top, propping himself up on his arms behind him.
You shoot him a deadpan look, one that you hope hides the fact that his words and the tone of his voice all have your stomach tying in knots. You turn back around to rummage through your drawers and cabinets, pulling out everything you'll need and a singular silver barbell.
"Just one?" Sukuna asks, both skepticism and offense in his tone. Did you really think he wouldn't be able to do more than one piercing in a session? The same man who'd easily sat through multiple tattoo sessions that lasted several hours?
"We'll see how you're feeling afterwards. If you're up for it, I'll just grab some more."
"I'll be up for it."
You sigh— he's stubborn, that's for sure. But if it'll give him peace of mind then whatever. You retreat to grab two more barbells before swiveling back over to him in your little chair. "Happy now?"
He grins, "I sure am, baby."
"Baby? That's new," you muse, pulling on your gloves with a snap.
"You like it?" he teases, shifting in his seat, his legs falling further apart.
"Maybe. I'll answer that after you've pulled your pants down," you shoot back.
Keeping your eyes fixed on what you're doing, you get everything organized on your tray so that each piercing can be as swift as possible. As tempted as you are to let your gaze slide up, trailing over his muscled thighs to the apex of his shorts— you're not giving in that easy.
He wants your attention, that's obvious. And he's already got it actually, but you find that you like toying with him since he seems like he doesn't know that. You like making him work a little harder than he's probably ever had to before, making him think that you're not quite there with him yet.
Sukuna huffs out a laugh, confident and smooth. "Just say the word."
"Whenever you're ready, we can get this over with."
He rolls his eyes, fingers hooking into his waistband as he's muttering to himself, "well don't act too excited."
Only now do you let your gaze drift down to his crotch and— is he hard right now? You don't realize the way you've tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, breath baited in anticipation, but Sukuna does. And the look on your face is enough to have even more blood rushing down between his thighs.
His hips lift up, just enough to slide his shorts and briefs down over his ass. The waistbands catch on the tip of his dick, tugging it along with them as he drags the garments down further. You can see the way the head of his cock slides along the fabric as it fights to return to its upright position, little by little, until it's freed and the full length slaps up against his abdomen.
Your mouth feels dry. Tongue heavy, it sits against the roof of your mouth, feeling like it's filling the entire cavern. You could have guessed he was big. The way he carries himself is a tell-tale sign. He has that kind of confidence that you just know is well-founded, not something used to compensate. But still— "damn."
"You wanna give me that answer now, baby?" Sukuna teases, enjoying your reaction.
"Shut up, Sukuna," you snap, eyes still fixated on the distraction in front of you. He's big, pretty, even. Veins trail up the thick shaft, acting as a guide for your eyes, leading your gaze up to the red tip, all flushed and swollen. Your core feels hot, the initial dryness in your mouth being replaced with a rush of saliva.
"You stare at all your clients' dicks like this?" Sukuna goads, hands coming back behind him so he can recline, putting himself on display for you. He knows that you definitely don't look at all your clients this way, and that you usually are very professional— but nothing about your relationship with him has ever been.
"We might end up needing another appointment or two." You finally tug your gaze away from his cock. His eyes are dark, pupils swallowing the red of his irises as he looks down at you situated between his knees.
"And why's that?"
"Because we're gonna need more barbells than I thought," you explain.
You're convinced you can literally see the man's ego growing at your words and it makes you want to take them back. But you really do still have to be upfront with him, so he knows what to expect throughout this process. "Or if you can handle one more each session then we might not need to drag this out. We'll see."
You grab your marker, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable— when you'll have to touch his dick. Reaching forward gingerly, you glance up at him once more, silently searching his expression for any hesitation. When you find nothing but a cocky grin, you wrap your fingers delicately around the middle of the shaft to stabilize him and hold his length up straight.
It's warm through the nitrile gloves, heavy in a way as it rests in your grasp. Sukuna shifts lightly, sucking in the smallest breath at the feeling of your fingers wrapped around his most sensitive body part.
As much as he loves flirting with you, Sukuna is trying to keep his thoughts and urges at bay.
A part of Sukuna wants to just say fuck the whole appointment, wants to roll his hips and rut into your fist, tell you to take the gloves off and let him feel you skin to skin. Part of him wishes he could make a move on you now, a real move, instead of just dancing around the obvious tension in the room.
But the stronger part of him knows that he can't.
He's wanted these piercings for a long time now, and he'd regret it more if he never got them done just because he couldn't keep it in his pants for a few measly hours.
So, Sukuna wills himself to think of something, anything, but the feeling of your pretty hand wrapped around his cock.
Still, by the time you finish marking up the piercing spots, he's tense as ever. Jaw tight, his signature smirk is gone as he stares down at you through lidded eyes. You clear your throat, quickly looking away and busying yourself with capping the marker and setting it aside. Then you grab a small hand-held mirror and offer it to him. "Wanna check that they look alright?"
He shrugs, snatching the mirror and holding it out between his legs, the sight of his own cock reflected back to him. Only now, there's little purple dots lining the underside of the shaft— where the barbells will be lined up over the next months.
He gives a rumbling hum of approval, handing the mirror back to you. "Yeah, that's good, baby."
And the only thing you see reflected back in the glass is your piss-poor attempt to control your facial expression when those words reach your ears. There's a burning heat spreading across your cheeks as you pick up the hollow needle and barbell from your tray before turning back to Sukuna.
"Ready?" you check in once more, holding the needle and jewelry up.
He bares his teeth in a quick smile as he nods, "'course I am."
You line up the needle at the base, stabilizing it with your pinky. "Deep breath in," you wait until you hear him inhale, doing the same yourself, "aaand breathe out." You press the needle under the skin when he does, swiftly pushing it through and immediately following with the barbell.
Sukuna hisses through his teeth, fingers digging into the plush table beneath him. Pain sears through him, from the piercing site to the tip of his cock, a sharp sting that fades into a dull throbbing.
You sit back, giving him a moment when you see the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes are shut and his chest is heaving. "You can let me know if you'd like a longer break between them," you offer gently.
His eyelids flutter open, heavy as his gaze slides down to you. There's a faint pink dusting his cheeks, his bottom lip swollen from when you didn't even realize he was biting back a sound he wouldn't dare let out. His expression gives you pause, an unexpected intensity simmering just beneath the surface.Then he shakes his head lightly before jutting his chin out at you and muttering a "jus' keep goin'."
If you thought the tension was bad before, it's near suffocating now. You feel dwarfed in your position sitting before him, right between his thighs, with your face inches from his cock. He's towering above you, body broad overhead as he looks down at you intently. The space between your own legs feels as hot as your cheeks, realization dawning on you that you'd mistaken his expression for discomfort, when what he was feeling was far from it.
Swallowing loudly, you nod. You're wiggling awkwardly in your seat as you position yourself once more, trying to ignore the way you can feel your underwear starting to stick to your skin.
You get through two more before stopping, not wanting to do more than three piercings in one session. Normally you'd stop at two, but since he really had no issues with the pain, you figured it was alright. Not to mention he had the space for them.
While you clean up, Sukuna's still sitting on the table, shorts around his thighs as he admires your handiwork in the mirror again. With him distracted, ogling himself, you can finally take a deep breath and try to quell the aching in your core.
You've had attractive clients before, but there's something about Sukuna. The mutual desire is palpable, and you're going to have to figure out a way to keep yourself in check during the next appointments or he might never get all these piercings done.
"You like them so far?"
Sukuna doesn't even look up, eyes still locked on his own dick, "fuck yeah."
You chuckle, amused at how entranced he is by three new additions to his shaft. "Alright, Sukuna, you can keep staring at your dick when you get home—"
"'m not staring, I'm lookin'," he interrupts, handing the mirror back to you.
"Whatever, just put your pants back on."
"You sure you want me to?" he teases, but his hands still reach for his waistband.
"Trust me, I'm sure," you mumble, thankful for the fact that your voice didn't waver, fearful of giving away how much of an effect Sukuna has on you.
"So mean, baby- ah shit!" he cuts himself off, flinching at the feeling of his briefs pressed snug around his swollen cock. "Shoulda worn boxers," he grumbles as he finally gets situated.
You're ringing him up at the front again, giggling quietly under your breath whenever you catch him wincing and adjusting himself out of the corner of your eye. "Aw, doesn't feel so good now?" you coo, eyes running over over his figure and lingering on the slight bulge that remains in his shorts.
Sukuna grumbles something incoherent, ears tinted pink and eyes averting to look at something very interesting on the wall.
"So you know the basics, keep it clean, keep it dry—" you're running over the aftercare with him as you two walk out to the parking lot together. "And don't fucking touch them. I'm serious," you add sternly, jabbing a finger into his bicep which he swats away weakly.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it woman, y'said that shit twice already."
You raise an eyebrow at his tone, pulling a long sigh from him which you take as an apology— it's probably the best you'll get from the stubborn oaf.
Since the beginning, there had been banter between you and Sukuna, though you can't help but think about how much you feel like your relationship has evolved in such a short period alone with him. The few hours that you've gotten to spend cooped up together in your little studio have you two acting like old friends as you part ways now— bickering back and forth, laughing lightly.
There's a slight discomfort in your chest when you think about how you likely won't see the pink haired man for the next six months.
And you experience that same feeling at the end of each appointment.
Every few months you'll double, triple check that your schedule is clear of all but one client. You'll wear those tank tops that you know Sukuna likes and pretend it was all you had left in your closet as you relish in the way that he can't stop his eyes from drifting downwards. You'll lead him back to your room and have him plop himself back onto your table then pull his pants down.
And each time, you're left speechless for a few moments. Like over the months your understanding of his size was diminished, the concept of him was warped with the passage of time to where it feels as though you're seeing him for the first time again.
And he fucking loves it.
That stupid smirk on his face as he lounges like a king, presenting himself before you, his gaze resting lazily on your face— a misrepresentation of how much of his attention you actually have. Because the truth is, you have all of it.
The truth is that Sukuna is just as affected by you as you are by him. Only, both of you are too stubborn to address the tension outright.
But you can feel it starting to bubble over. Like when the room feels too hot to be in despite the air conditioning being on. You can feel it in the silence that followed the first time you pulled his pants down to find Sukuna not only hard, as he always was, but leaking.
Swollen tip sitting stiff and pretty before you and right on the slit it was there— that pearly, translucent bead of precum.
You can feel it in the way your stomach tightens now when your fingers remain wrapped around his cock just moments longer than they need to be, nerve endings firing with each subtle twitch beneath your finger pads.
You can feel the attraction starting to bubble over when you finish the very last piercing, leaning back to see each silver rung decorating his shaft— each one there because you were the only one Sukuna trusted with the delicate task.
The two of you are quieter than usual when you head back to the front counter to take Sukuna's final payment. The weight of a million things unsaid fills the silence between you, but neither of you feels the need to speak them aloud. Instead, you offer him a free check up appointment six months from now. An appointment you rarely set up in advance with other clients, but one you strongly urge him to make.
You just want to make sure that everything heals properly, that's all!
And he eagerly agrees, ever the dutiful client. He wouldn't want all your hard work to go to waste because of poor piercing maintenance!
So, it's really best that he comes back in six months, say… around 6:00 pm when your coworkers have long gone home. Just to make sure everything's looking good, of course.
And those six months were by far the worst. The lingering implications of what your next appointment entailed hanging over both of your heads, leaving you and Sukuna restless. But the waiting was worth it.
It was worth it for the feeling of your body practically buzzing with anticipation as you open your studio this Friday at 5:30. You poke your head around, searching for your coworkers. There weren't any cars in the parking lot when you arrived, but sometimes they've been known to take public transport and you want to double check.
You're scurrying around the shop when you hear the bell chime. The soft scrape of the metal door against the floor as it's pushed open. The familiar gruff voice.
"Oi— damn, it's cold in here—"
You still in the hallway as your eyes find crimson. Sukuna lets the door shut behind him, his gaze raking over you as it always does. Only it's slower now, like he's deliberately taking his time, re-memorizing each feature, each curve of your figure.
"Long time no see," you break the brief silence.
"Hey, baby," Sukuna rasps. He's not meeting your eyes yet, still trailing up around your hips, your stomach, your chest. You cross your arms, your signature move when you're feeling impatient with him.
Finally, he looks at you.
Sukuna crosses the room with steady strides to where you're waiting. You can feel your heart rate picking up at the closeness, neck craning slightly to look up at him as he stands before you now.
You forgot how tall he is.
Leaning forward, a finger hooks under your chin, tilting your head up further. "Miss me?"
You scoff like he's out of line for even asking that. Like your face isn't burning up at the single touch of his skin against yours. "Not even a little bit," you lie, turning your head to the side.
He brings his hand to his chest, pouting at you as he straightens up. "Well now you're breakin' my heart."
"Something tells me you'll be just fine, Kuna," you reassure him with a pat on the shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the way your little nickname punched every retort straight out of his head. "C'mon."
Sukuna's hesitant when he walks in after you, like he's not sure what to do with himself. This isn't an actual appointment so he doesn't know if he should sit on the table, or a chair, or maybe he should just stand? He's never found himself in a situation where he felt so out of place, especially after having been in this exact location several times before with you.
You can tell he's unsure, the sight bringing a soft smile to your lips. The ever cocky Ryomen Sukuna is suddenly feeling nervous? Who would have thought.
"How's it been feeling?" you ask, partially as a way to give him something to talk about, and partially because, well, you do want to know.
Sukuna shuffles toward the counter next to you, hip resting against it as he hums, "'s been fine. Got used to the healing process after the first appointment so, wasn't too bad."
"You taking care of them like I told you?" you don't really have any doubts, but figure you should ask anyways.
He scoffs, "course I am, been keepin' 'em squeaky clean."
"Good boy," you coo, biting back a laugh at the way he turns beet red, grumbling under his breath about how you're an "insufferable woman." He's never been with someone so forward, or even dominant with him.
Your hands reach forward, grazing along his waist, fingers dipping slightly beneath the hem of his shorts. You grip the fabric as you push him, guiding him until his lower back is pressing into the counter. "I've still gotta check…" you dip your fingers further, tugging down gently til you see the elastic of his briefs, "make sure you're telling the truth."
Sukuna's hands come to grip the counter, knuckles white. You're looking up at him with wide eyes, bullshit innocent look on your face as you sink to your knees, dragging his shorts down with you.
"How you planning on checkin'?" he breathes, so much of his blood rushing south from mere words and touches, his cock feeling like it has a heartbeat of its own.
You bring a hand up between his legs, resting over the tent in his underwear. Humming like you're mulling over your answer, you palm at his bulge making him exhale a shaky breath. "You're a smart guy, I think you know already."
Taking your time, you stretch the fabric away from his hips, finally freeing his stiff cock. You're licking your lips at the way it hangs heavy before your face as you pull his briefs down to his shorts. From where you're perched on your knees, you have a perfect view of the underside of his shaft— still veiny and now glinting, light reflecting off the new silver jewelry adorning it.
"Fuck, you really made the best choice." The compliment comes easy, rolling off your tongue without needing to think about it because just the sight of him has you rubbing your thighs together, heat starting to pool between them.
"You think so?" Sukuna grins, tongue darting out to swipe across his teeth. He brings a hand to your head, patting it twice. "Go on then, baby, show me ya mean it."
You spit into your palm before reaching for the base, his balls twitching when your warm hand finally wraps around it. Sliding up slowly and back down, you smear your spit around the top of his shaft, the tips of your fingers grazing the edge each barbell along the way. Sukuna's hand weighs heavy atop your head, stroking lightly, a form of nonverbal praise when your tongue lolls out to swipe up the underside of his cock.
"Seem healed?" Sukuna grits out through clenched teeth.
Your lips press a chaste kiss to his tip before parting, lowering, and enveloping the head. You hum in response, making him groan from the vibrations paired with the feeling of your tongue flicking against his slit, lapping up his precum. The sound is deep, rumbling in his chest so loud you think it's the cause of the buzzing in your core.
You pull off of him with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip which you break with a swipe of your tongue across your lips. "Feel any pain?" you ask, eyes locked on his as you drag your tongue up one side of his shaft, cool metal balls rolling under the slippery muscle.
Sukuna sucks in a breath, fingers digging slightly into your scalp as he shakes his head. You shift and run your tongue back down the other side of the ladder, the taste of metal lingering even when you pull away. "What about there? Does that hurt?"
"Nah— feels good," he grunts, pressing down, urging you to return your mouth to him.
"Didn't think those were mutually exclusive for you," you respond with a smile. Sukuna huffs out a short laugh at that because you're not wrong. He doesn't need to confirm it either— at least not with his words.
You lap at the barbell closest to the base, flicking at it with your tongue before drawing it between your teeth and tugging gently. He hisses, his cock twitching in your grasp at the slight sting, and the moan that follows is enough confirmation of his little kink.
Pulling on each rung as your tongue climbs back up his ladder, you revel in all the sounds you're able to pull from Sukuna along the way. You note the way his gruff moans turn pitchier, louder with the harder you tug. But you're tired of teasing him, wanting to get a real taste of him when your lips part and wrap around his head once more.
"Keep goin' this time— think you can take all of me?" his voice is deep and strained as you start to sink down onto his length, your hot mouth swallowing him inch by inch. Your tongue stays flat along the bottom, running over the jewelry as you force yourself to take him deeper.
You continue pushing him further into your throat, ignoring the way tears are starting to well in your waterline and your jaw is already aching from having to accommodate not just his length but his girth.
"That's it, almost there baby," Sukuna reassures you when you start to gag. The tip of his cock is nudging against the back of your throat, saliva pooling in your mouth but you're determined to take him all.
You slide back off of him until just the head rests on your tongue before sinking down once more. Repeating the motions over and over, you're bobbing steadily, taking more of Sukuna's cock each time until the salty droplets slip past your lashes and drool starts to trickle out of the corners of your mouth.
Soon, you feel the hair at the base of his cock prickling your nose when you finally manage to stuff his entire length into your tight throat.
"Knew you could do it. Such a good girl, deep throatin' my cock like a slut," Sukuna smirks, the degrading praise reaching your ears like a sweet melody that has your cunt clenching around nothing as slick starts to stain the gusset of your panties. "Now suck," he grunts before snapping his hips and thrusting harshly into your mouth.
A muffled whine vibrates around his length as your eyes stare up at him, all watery and desperate as he uses you. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the skin and making him grit his teeth, the pain and pleasure taking him higher.
"Mouth feels— fuck— fuckin' amazing," Sukuna groans, fucking your face faster, harder, despite the way your tears are streaming steadily down your cheeks as you gag and sputter around him. He doesn't slow, taking no pity on you because still, each time he looks down past your needy gaze, he can see the way your knees are rubbing together trying to create a friction you're craving. "God, you love being used like this, huh?"
You try to nod, try to moan. But all that you can manage is a pathetic, strangled whimper that gets drowned out by the wet sounds of your mouth slurping around Sukuna's cock when you hollow your cheeks.
He chuckles, low and mean, sharp canines flashing at you. "Come on, baby— shit- why don't ya use your words," Sukuna coos, only grinning wider when your glassy eyes narrow at him. "Aw, c'mon, don' look at me like th—aah fuck-"
A moan is ripped from his lips, interrupting his sentence, when you let your teeth ever so slightly graze along the top of his shaft. His whole body is buzzing, the wet heat of your mouth contrasting with the sharp sting of your teeth. You're successfully able to shut him up, save for a slew of curses which continue falling from his lips.
You bring a hand to cup his balls, rolling and tugging on his scrotum, and it's not long before you can feel his cock pulsing on your tongue. You hear his breathing turn ragged, his voice strained and choppy and prepare for him to cum, salty and warm on your tongue. Only he doesn't.
A large hand wraps around your nape, fingers squeezing painfully tight as Sukuna yanks you off of him in one abrupt movement.
You're coughing and rubbing your lips, drying your cheeks with the back of your hand as Sukuna stares down at you. Now his cock is aching, throbbing from being denied its orgasm but he needs to feel your cunt stretched around him.
Your eyes are glued on one another, the both of you panting haggardly as you sit in silence and catch your breath for just a moment before Sukuna pulls you towards him. He's tugging you hard by the back of your neck until you're collapsing into him. Hands splayed across his chest, your lips meet in a messy kiss.
Normally, he would have taken his time. Kissed you slow and explored what you liked while his mouth moved with yours— but he can't be bothered. You can't be bothered either.
Pure hunger fuels your actions as your teeth clash, tongues swiping at each others lips, twirling around one another. Sukuna sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down and tugging away before letting it snap back in place. He gauges your reaction, smiling wide and cocky against your mouth when your hands grip his shirt and yank him back down to you.
You return the favor, biting hard on his lip, sucking it harshly into your mouth before finally letting go and leaving it red and swollen. You're moaning into each others mouths, what was already a sloppy make out deteriorating further into a slippery mess of saliva and tongue.
Your fingers tighten around the fabric in your grasp as you step backwards, guiding him with you. You're stumbling blind, trying to lead him to your chair even though you're not really sure what way to go. You're too addicted to the feeling of his soft lips and the taste of his groans to break away even for a second, and he can't either.
Sukuna doesn't need to think as he lets you drag him around, just focusing on ravishing you while you figure out what to do with him.
And then you feel the tip of your foot nudging against one of the wheels on your chair, prompting you to spin the two of you around. Only then do you separate from Sukuna with one last kiss before you shove him backwards, making him fall into your chair with a thud.
Sukuna's looking up at you now, eyes wide and pupils blown. His hair is a mess and his lips are bruised and glossy, coated in a mix of your spit and his. You can see the flush on his cheeks get darker, his eyelids heavier as you strip before him.
Your fingers grip the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it off to the side. You do the same with your pants. Sukuna mimics you, taking off his last article of clothing by discarding his shirt next to yours.
You can't hide the way you're even more entranced by him fully naked now. His abdomen is toned, bulky, his shoulders broad. Dark hair sprouts from his chest, a complement to the untrimmed happy trail that leads your eyes back down to his bush which sits around the cock that's now half covered by his hand.
He's stroking himself languidly as your eyes rake over him, a mirror image to the way he's looking at you as you slip your soiled panties down your hips. You can feel the stickiness as the fabric is peeled away, goosebumps peppering your skin when the cool air hits your sex for the first time. Kicking the garment away, you bring your hands behind your back to fiddle with the clasp on your bra before that too is forgotten on the floor.
"Fuck," Sukuna rasps, hand squeezing himself tighter at the sight of you fully naked before him. Every inch, every curve is perfect, his eyes thirstily drinking up all of you as you strut towards him.
He spreads his legs wider, both hands reaching out to settle on your waist the second you're in reach. And now he sees them— your own glinting modifications. A simple belly ring catches his attention first, his thumbs rubbing along your skin, massaging your hips as he looks over you.
"When'd ya get these?" he purrs, fingers sliding up your waist as his hands move to cup your breasts. You let out a sigh as he paws at them, groping lightly and you arch into his touch. "Fuck, they look good— perfect fuckin' tits."
"Got 'em a while a-ah— ago…" Calloused fingertips pinch your nipples, rolling them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you move to straddle Sukuna, needing to be closer to him, to feel the heat radiating off of his body. His cock is resting against your stomach, settled between your torsos as your legs rest on either side of his.
"Yeah?" Sukuna asks and you wrap your arms around his neck as you nod in reply. "Good." One of his hands comes down hard against your tit, landing across the flesh with a hard smack!
"Fuck! Kuna," you whine, rolling your hips. His shaft is settled between your folds, your arousal smearing around it and your clit catching on each piercing as you grind down on his lap.
His other hand comes down fast, slapping your other tit. Guess he's learned a little something about you too.
Each hit, each pinch that's a little too harsh, has you getting his cock even wetter and humping him even faster. And those sounds— the pretty little moans that fall from your lips— they're even sweeter whenever the rough palm of his hand collides against your supple skin.
"All of you's just perfect, ain't that right?"
The hand still on your ass creeps inward, your body shuddering when you feel a fingertip circling the rim of your asshole. You arch into his touch, whimpering and distracted until—
Smack!
You fall forward to bite down on Sukuna's shoulder to muffle your cry after he lands another hit to your chest, that one much harder than the last two.
"Asked ya a question. 's rude not to answer," he scolds you, hands rubbing soothingly over your breasts, working to ease some of the pain that's prickling under the skin. "Said ain't that right?"
You're nodding fervently, face flushed and beginning to sweat. "Y-you're right," you mumble into his neck, exhaling long and slow when he tugs a nipple piercing between his fingertips again.
"Good girl," he whispers, head leaning against yours as you kiss down the column of his neck once more. "C'mon," he pats the side of his thigh, "needa feel that pussy, you're leakin' all over me."
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, a little glint in your eyes that he can't quite place. And then you shake your head, bottom lip tugged between your teeth. "Hmm, no."
Sukuna's brows furrow and he tilts his head at you. "The fuck you mean 'no'?"
"So rude," you pout, bringing a hand to his cheek, your thumb stroking it lightly. "Ask nicely and I might."
"Excuse me?" he seethes, eyes narrowing. But you feel the way his cock twitches against your clit, nerves being set alight.
You smack him lightly across his cheek— a warning and a test— your eyes scanning his face for a reaction. The tips of his ears are pink, his chest rising and falling deeply beneath you. "Beg me, Kuna. If you want me to fuck you."
You can see the conflict simmering beneath the surface of a blend of arousal and embarrassment. He's mulling over his words, choosing the right action. The silence is starting to stretch and you're getting impatient so you roll your hips again, pressing hard along his length.
"Please let me fuck you," Sukuna mumbles, avoiding yours gaze.
"You can do better than that," you roll your eyes, hips still moving. You can tell his restraint is slipping and you're close to getting what you want. Just a few more grinds, a few more cascades of your fingers through his hair with a pout on your lips and he's folding.
"Fucking- please, baby. Please fuck me, I need you so badly— wanna feel that pussy wrapped 'round my cock," he rasps, desperation swimming in his irises.
You squeeze his jaw, forcing his lips apart as you gather your saliva and spit directly into his mouth. The glob hits his tongue, warm and mildly salty, a lingering taste of his own pre.
"Good boy," you praise, rewarding him with a couple rough pats on his cheek.
"Shut up," Sukuna grumbles, hands returning to your waist and picking you up. He maneuvers you until you're sitting over his dick, the tip prodding at your dripping entrance. Your hands perch on his chest for stability as you lower your hips down onto him with a loud sigh. "Oh god, you're tight, loosen up f'me."
"'m tryin'," you whine, wiggling your hips. You're trying to get used to the feeling of his jacob's ladder rubbing against your walls, adding even more to the sensation of him stretching you out.
You're so close to taking all of him, almost sitting with your thighs atop his, but he can't wait any longer. Sukuna's hips snap upwards and in one fluid motion he slams your own down onto him, fully sheathing himself inside you. "F-fuck! Kuna, oh my god—"
"Sorry," he grunts— he doesn't mean it— "couldn't wait, needed to feel this cunt cryin' on me— so fucking wet."
Your eyebrows knit together in mock irritation. But the truth is, it feels so fucking good to finally be full of him, to finally feel him buried inside you. Every inch, every ring.
"Just fuckin' sit still," you command, gyrating your hips and rubbing your clit against him. You know he probably wants you to ride him, to lift your hips and smack them back down, fucking yourself onto his cock— but you don't plan on doing that.
You're humping him steadily, each roll of your hips leaving your clit more stimulated, more sensitive. Each roll makes you wetter, soaking his cock as your arousal leaks out onto the base towards his balls.
"Like that?" he whispers, hands finding your ass and kneading the plush fat under his fingers. "Just keep usin' me— make yourself feel good on my cock."
"I-I will," you assure, humping him faster. You can feel your stomach getting tighter, the coil in your gut winding up more with every grind and nudge of your clit against his rough skin. "Doing s'good for me, Kuna."
Your hands paw at his chest, your own fingers pinching at his nipples now. You squeeze them tight, tugging and twisting gently, eliciting a quiet moan from Sukuna. He shifts, his hips coming up slightly off the chair, trying to match your movements as his finger returns to your ass, this time pressing inside. And in an instant your hand comes down across his cheek with a loud crack!
"I told you— shit- to sit still," you snap, both hands now settling around his neck.
Sukuna's eyes are wide from the shock coursing through him, less from the fact that you slapped him and more from the fact that he fucking loved it. He's never been with someone who's done half of the things that you're doing to him, and he would've never expected himself to be so into it. And still, the sharp impact combined with your words and the look on your face— he's entirely ready to submit himself to you. For now.
"I know—" Sukuna starts, words trailing off when your grip tightens around his windpipe.
"But you d-didn't listen."
You're trying to keep your voice steady, but your encroaching orgasm is dangerously close. You're teetering on the edge of your release and fighting to keep it at bay so you can enjoy this moment just a second longer.
Sukuna's face is covered in a sheen of sweat, more than just his cheeks are red now from the lack of oxygen.
You hold on a little more, a little tighter, using his neck to support your body as you chase your high. And then you let go, collapsing into his chest as he breathes deeply once more. He takes the opportunity to pump his finger slowly in and out of your ass, the added pressure making you squirm.
"'m sorry baby," Sukuna chokes out, "cum for me— want you to cum all over my cock, please. You'll do that f'me right?"
His voice is strained, cracked, his throat dry and sore from your hands. But you can still make out the desperation laced within each word and his pleas are too much.
With one last cry you're shaking, your whole body going limp against him as his hands move to your back to hug you into his chest when your orgasm crashes over you.
"There you go… you did so good, baby."
Sukuna's muttering sweet praises into your hair, his hands rubbing gently across your skin as they shift back down to your thighs. You're simmering in a post-orgasm daze, a temporary wave of tiredness coursing through you. The haze makes it so you're not worried, when maybe you should be, about how Sukuna's standing now, still buried deep inside you as he carries your body with him across the room.
You stir when you feel the rough wall pressed up against your back. Your feet are dangling, legs locked in the crooks of Sukuna's arms so your thighs are being pushed into your chest now.
Your eyes find his, being met with a sudden intensity, a sneer on his lips. "Had fun back there?"
Fuck.
You nod meekly.
"Yeah? Had fun smackin' me around and chokin' me out?"
You swallow loudly.
"Say it."
His voice lacks the amusement it usually has, his face set with a flat and unreadable expression. The entire air in the room has shifted and it sets your nerves on fire.
"I d-did, I had fun— aah-Kuna!"
A hand had snaked out from under your leg to rip across your face, the force sending your head snapping to the side. "You like that?" he growls, pinching your cheeks and making you look at him again. "Yeah, you do. This is still fun for you, huh? Pussy's clampin' down around me— dirty girl."
And then he's fucking you down onto him, both hands on your ass as he lifts you up off of his cock before slamming you back down again. The pace that Sukuna sets is nothing short of ruthless, giving you no time to ease back into everything after your first orgasm.
"Sukun-ah! Shit, slow down—" you whine, the abrupt acceleration leaving you overstimulated. You're wiggling your hips, but you're not even sure if you're trying to get away from him or get closer.
It's overwhelming. Each thrust stretching out your gummy walls in a way you haven't felt before, each piercing scraping along the inside of your cunt.
"Nah, fuckin' take it." He slaps you once more, hard and fast before his lips crash down onto yours in a hungry kiss. He's swallowing your whines, moaning into your mouth in response. "This what you wanted? Wanted to piss me off just to get fucked like the slut you are? Could've jus' asked, baby— fuck."
Every part of him is all consuming, the man you had thought you had a hold on suddenly reminding you of exactly how much control you really have.
"God, you know how long I've wanted to see you fall apart on my cock?"
You whimper, shaking your head as tears return to your lash line after a particularly hard thrust.
"Couldn't even jack off n' think about you— y'know how hard that was?"
"mmhm…" you sniffle, head falling back against the wall.
Large, thick fingers splay across your throat, digging into your neck. "No, you don't," he spits, "don't even have your clit pierced. Never had to go months without gettin' off after having a pretty slut handlin' you."
You try to choke out an apology but his grip tightens cutting you off. "Spoiled brat."
Sukuna's voice has a dangerous edge, one that makes your stomach flip and your core burn hot once more. You know he can feel the way your cunt is fluttering around his length, his hips stuttering for just a moment.
And that spurs him on. Every bit of confirmation that you're just as needy, just as depraved as he is leaves him wanting even more from you. His muscles are aching, already pushing himself to his limit and still he finds the energy to move faster. His thrusts feel like a punishment, forcing your cunt to accommodate him each time he splits you open.
He has the energy to make sure that every. single. thrust. has him balls deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.
"O-oh god, oh god, Kuna—" your moans are getting louder, head falling forward now onto his shoulder.
"Gonna fuckin' cum again? Christ, you're greedy," he groans, like he isn't overcome with pride that he's coaxing a second orgasm out of you already.
"S-sorry!" you whine against him, your saliva and tears starting to wet his skin.
"Don' apologize," he grits, both hands back on your ass for leverage as he ruts into you with a carnal desire, "Thank me." He punctuates his command with a merciless smack to one of your cheeks, the pain making you cry out.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you sob, your climax being ripped from you with an unexpected force. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, the taste of copper starting to trickle into your mouth.
You can hear Sukuna hiss above you, his fingernails digging into your flesh. His pace falters one last time before he slams you back onto him and holds you there, pressing you tight between his body and the wall.
"Fuuuck— you're perfect, baby. My perfect girl."
His cock twitches, pulsing before you feel his seed spurting inside you. Sticky, white ropes of cum paint your poor, abused walls. You're lapping at his shoulder, soft kitten licks to soothe the minor injury you caused as he fills you to the brim.
You don't need to look to know that his release is starting to leak out around his base, a mix of both of your spend seeping onto his balls.
Sukuna's gentle as he handles you now. Cradling you close to his body, the sweat and heat serve as a comfort for you as he sits back down on the chair with you in his lap. He's still plugging you up, just letting you sit there soaking him as his cock starts to soften inside you.
You're pressing kiss after kiss to his neck, collarbones, jaw, cheeks, as he rubs your back and massages your thighs.
"You really are fuckin' perfect," he pants, his exhaustion catching up to him, "I meant that."
"You too, baby," you mumble tiredly, missing the smile that graces his lips at the nickname.
"So… all healed I'm assuming?"
You giggle at that. "You're a fucking idiot."
"And you're mean," he shoots back playfully, "I can't believe I was gonna ask you out after this."
The Daily Planet princess needs saving Superman ⋆. 𐙚₊ ⊹
MINORS DNI 18+ | Kinktober Day Eleven ☆
Kinks: role play, costume sex, orgasm denial | Part three of Daily Planet Princess
You’d always thought Clark Kent was just… Clark.
The sweet, shy reporter who somehow managed to trip over cables and still look heartbreakingly handsome while doing it. He was the quiet to your chatter, the calm to your chaos.
When you breezed through the bullpen in perfume and heels, he’d glance up from his articles and give you that small, polite smile that made your stomach fizz like soda.
And that was fine. Harmless, even. Everyone had an office crush.
Then one night, everything changed.
Metropolis was chaos, alarms wailing, the night sky lit in flashes of red and gold. You’d been working late, trying to finish your “Five Fall Trends from the Planet Princess” column, when the floor beneath you trembled. You ran to the window, heart pounding, and saw it: the blur, the cape, the impossible man catching a crumbling building like it was made of paper.
Superman.
You stayed pressed to the glass, watching him, every breath short and shallow. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once, the way he moved, the way he looked at people when he helped them. Gentle. Familiar.
Then, through the sirens and shouts below, he turned his head just slightly toward the Planet building, toward you.
And your heart stopped.
Those eyes.
Even from stories up, you knew them.
The next morning, Clark Kent walked in late. Tie askew. Hair wind-tossed. A smudge of ash on his collar. He mumbled something to Perry about “getting caught in traffic,” and you just… stared.
Because now that you’d seen it, you couldn’t unsee it. The same shoulders. The same calm in chaos. The same voice that had whispered “quiet” in a supply closet when your heart had been racing for how he fingered you.
It couldn’t be.
Except… it absolutely was.
You barely managed to whisper, “Clark… you’re—” He blinked down at you over his glasses, that familiar, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Running a little behind schedule,” he said softly, and before you could find your words, he brushed past — leaving the faint scent of ozone and cedar-wood in his wake.
And that was it. You knew.
From that day on, nothing about him, or you, was the same.
Now every time he walked past your desk, your pulse jumped. The Daily Planet princess, normally the one gossiping, glowing, spinning through the office like a social butterfly, became a complete, tongue-tied disaster. You dropped pens, spilled lattes, hit “send all” on emails meant for one person.
Clark, meanwhile, had changed.
Not a lot, but enough. He wasn’t the bashful farm boy anymore. He’d meet your eyes over his glasses, and there would be this tiny spark, that quiet, knowing amusement that said he remembered everything.
“Morning, Princess,” he’d say, leaning on your desk, the faintest edge of a grin tugging at his mouth.
You’d choke on your coffee. “H-hi! Morning! Lovely weather! You, uh, look… heroic.”
He’d laugh, low, genuine, maddeningly warm. “You’re still not used to me, are you?”
How could you be? He was Clark Kent, the man you’d secretly crushed on for months… and also Superman, the man who saved the city between coffee breaks.
No matter how much gloss you wore, or how steady your heels clicked, you were never quite the same around him again.
Sometimes, when the newsroom was quiet and the sunset hit the windows just right, you’d catch him watching you, that same small, secret smile playing at his lips. It wasn’t teasing exactly. It was… fond. Like he knew he’d shaken your entire world and was giving you time to find your balance again.
And maybe, one day, you would.
But the problem was, balance had never really been your thing. You were all impulse and perfume, lipstick and plans that sounded better in your head. So, naturally, it wasn’t long before your brain came up with an idea.
If Clark Kent wouldn’t talk about being Superman… maybe Superman would.
You’d convinced yourself it wasn’t technically ridiculous.
Lots of reporters put themselves in risky spots; it was practically in the job description. You just happened to have a slightly different motivation, one that wore a cape and the same cologne as your coworker.
It started small. You lingered at crosswalks a little too long, hoping for an impressively timed rescue. Nothing. You stood on your desk to hang a decorative garland and waited for the floor to tremble beneath super-speed. Still nothing. Superman, it seemed, didn’t respond to decorative emergencies.
Then came the construction site assignment.
Lois had gone home sick, and Perry needed someone to grab a quote from the site of a crane malfunction near Centennial Park. You practically leapt from your chair, hair bouncing, heels clicking.
“This could be dangerous,” Perry warned.
You smiled too brightly. “Oh, I’ll be so careful.”
Fifteen minutes later you were standing under a tower crane, notebook in hand, pretending not to stare at the skyline. The air smelled like rain and metal; workers shouted to one another. You shuffled closer to the caution tape, a little thrill pulsing in your chest.
Just a bit of danger, you told yourself. Something that would justify a rescue.
As if on cue, the wind shifted and a gust sent a loose tarp snapping free from the scaffolding. It wasn’t truly dangerous, but it was enough, it whipped toward you, tangling around your arms and blinding you for a heartbeat.
Then the world tilted, a metallic groan, a shout, and before you could even register what was happening, the scaffolding above gave a sharp crack.
You barely had time to gasp before a blur moved through the chaos. Strong hands caught your waist, pulling you off the street and into the narrow shelter of an alleyway just as the metal frame crashed down where you’d been standing.
The sound echoed, shouts, clanging, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked up, breathless, and found yourself pressed against a brick wall, steady hands still braced around you.
“You should be more careful,” a deep voice said, calm even over the noise.
Superman.
Close enough to see the faint gold flecks in his eyes. Close enough that the wind stirred a curl at his temple. Close enough that you could feel the warmth still buzzing from his skin, like static.
“Ohmygosh,” you gasped, breathless for entirely non-life-threatening reasons. “You look so… familiar.”
One dark brow lifted. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” you said, fighting the nervous laugh bubbling up. “You, uh, kind of look like someone I work with. Except he wears… more polyester.”
That earned the smallest smile. “Polyester, huh?” he murmured. “I’ll have to remember that.”
The way he said it, quiet, amused, like you’d passed some unspoken test, made your stomach flutter. He stepped back just enough for you to breathe, but one hand stayed at your waist, steadying you.
“I really should… thank you,” you stammered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your little stunt had been. “If you hadn’t—”
He interrupted softly, voice low. “Something tells me you knew I would.”
Your face burned. “That’s—! I mean—! I was just doing my job!”
“Of course you were,” he said, eyes warm with mischief. “Maybe next time, stick to fashion columns.”
Your jaw dropped. “You—you read my columns?”
His thumb traced a slow circle on your hipbone through the silk of your blouse. “Every word. ‘Planet Princess’ is my favourite part of the Daily Planet.”
The alley’s shadows deepened the blue of his suit, made the crest on his chest glow faintly. His gaze dropped to your lips. “Especially the one about silk scarves doubling as restraints.”
Heat flooded your cheeks. Clark knew. He’d read every coy innuendo you’d slipped past Perry. Before you could stammer a reply, he leaned in, breath warm against your ear.
"You put yourself in danger," he murmured, voice low enough to vibrate through your bones. "Just to see if I’d show." His fingers slid slowly up your side, catching the silk scarf draped loosely around your neck.
The fabric whispered against your skin as he tugged it gently, testing its weight. "This would make terrible restraints," he mused, almost to himself, eyes darkening with amusement. "Too slippery. Too easy to slip free."
You swallowed hard. "I—I wasn’t—"
"Oh, you were." His thumb brushed the pulse fluttering wildly beneath your jaw. "I saw you lingering at crosswalks. Watched you wobble on that desk." A soft chuckle escaped him. "You’re terrible at subtlety, Princess." He wound the scarf tighter, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch. "But I like that."
His other hand settled firmly on your hip, pinning you against the cool brick. The distant chaos of the construction site faded to a dull roar. All you could see was the intensity in those blue eyes, the faint glow of the S-shield against your chest. He leaned closer, lips hovering inches from yours.
"Tell me," he breathed, "did you think about this? When you wrote that column?"
You nodded, unable to speak. The scarf tightened another fraction.
"Good." The word was a low rumble. "Because I did too." His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower, lingering where your blouse gaped slightly. "Every word. Especially the part about denial." His thumb pressed into the delicate hollow of your throat. "How long do you think you could last? Begging? Trembling?"
You whimpered, arching into his touch.
Clark, no, Superman, smiled. It wasn’t shy anymore. It was hungry.
"You're trembling," he murmured, fingers tightening in the silk scarf. His thumb pressed against your pulse point, making your breath catch. "Say my name."
"Clark," you gasped.
His grip tightened instantly, knuckles white against the silk. "Wrong." His voice dropped to a growl that vibrated through your ribs. "Try again."
The rough brick scraping against your back. "Superman," you breathed.
The sound of his name on your lips ignited something in his eyes, a dark, possessive gleam. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just above yours. "Better." His free hand slid down your hip, fingers digging into the curve of your thigh. "Now ask nicely."
Your voice cracked. "Save me."
He laughed softly, breath warm against your skin. "From what? Falling scaffolding?" He tugged the scarf sharply, forcing your chin up. "Or from yourself?" His gaze burned into yours. "You wanted me to catch you. Admit it."
You couldn’t lie, not with the S-shield glowing crimson against your chest, not with his thigh pressing between yours. "Yes," you whispered.
He kissed you then, hard, demanding, his tongue claiming your mouth while his hands pinned you against the wall. The taste of ozone and cedar flooded your senses.
When he pulled back, your lipstick was smeared across his jawline like war paint. "Good girl," he rasped. "Now tell me what you really want."
You didn’t hesitate. "Make me beg." The words tumbled out, raw and shameless. "Like in my column."
His eyes darkened. "Denial?" A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "You think you can take it?" His hand slid beneath your skirt, fingers tracing the lace edge of your panties. You arched against him, a whine escaping your throat. He stilled instantly. "Ah-ah." His voice was velvet steel. "No."
You froze, trembling. "Please—"
"Begging already?" He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. His thumb circled your clit through the damp lace, feather-light. He withdrew his hand completely, leaving you gasping. "You’ll wait." His gaze locked onto yours. "Until I say."
A sob caught in your throat. "Superman!"
"Shh." He pressed a finger to your swollen lips. The silk scarf slithered free from your neck, pooling warm against your collarbone. His hands moved with impossible speed, not super-speed, but deliberate, controlled precision.
Before you could blink, he’d twisted the scarf into a taut band, catching both your wrists together in a single fluid motion. The knot pulled tight against your pulse points, silken but unyielding.
He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The alley’s dim light caught the sharp planes of his face, the dark amusement in his eyes. "Better." His palm smoothed down your arm, fingertips tracing the bound wrists. "Now you can’t touch." He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "And you really want to touch, don’t you?"
You nodded frantically, straining against the silk. His laugh was a low vibration against your skin. "Good."
One hand slid beneath your skirt again, fingers skimming the soaked lace. You jerked against the scarf, a whimper building.
He withdrew. "I didn’t say you could move." His thumb brushed your lower lip, smearing your ruined lipstick. "Patience, princess."
You whimpered, the silk restraints biting into your wrists as you fought the instinct to arch toward his retreating hand. The damp lace of your panties clung to your skin, aching and neglected.
Superman watched you with that unnerving calm, a god amused by mortal desperation. His gaze dropped to where your skirt had ridden up, exposing the soaked fabric stretched taut between your thighs.
Slowly, deliberately, he undid his belt. The leather hissed through the loops, loud in the alley’s sudden silence. The blue suit parted, revealing the hard line of his cock straining against his briefs. He freed himself, thick and flushed, the tip glistening. Your breath hitched, hips straining forward against the silk binding your wrists.
"Look at you," he murmured, kneeling before you. His knuckles grazed your inner thigh, feather-light. "Soaked through." He traced the damp outline of your panties with the blunt head of his cock, dragging it along the lace seam.
The friction was maddening, almost enough, never enough. You cried out, bucking against nothing. "Shh," he soothed, pressing his length harder against the fabric, grinding in slow circles. "You wanted denial."
The pressure built, coiled tight and desperate. You could feel every ridge, every pulse of him through the thin barrier. "Please," you gasped, tears pricking your eyes. "Superman!"
"Save you?" He chuckled darkly, the vibration traveling through his cock into your clit. "From what?" He leaned in, teeth grazing your earlobe. "From how much you need this?" He rocked his hips, the tip catching on the lace edge, teasing your entrance without penetrating. "Say it properly."
You sobbed, the words thick with humiliation and want. "Save me… please, Superman… make me feel it…"
He stilled instantly. "Not yet." His hand wrapped around the base of his cock, holding himself back as he rubbed the swollen head against your clit in torturous, tiny circles. "You don’t get relief until I’m done watching you beg." His free hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in.
The silk restraints bit deeper as you strained against them, every nerve screaming for friction, for release. He traced the damp outline of your panties with his tongue, slow, deliberate swipes through the lace that made your knees buckle.
You cried out, arching off the wall, only to be pinned back by his palm flat against your belly. "Stay."
The command vibrated through you. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged the panties down just enough to expose you completely to the cool alley air, and his heated gaze.
"You wrote about silk scarves," he murmured, breath ghosting over your exposed flesh. His thumb brushed your clit once, a lightning strike of sensation, before retreating. "But you never imagined this, did you?" His fingers slid lower, tracing your slick entrance without entering.
"Bound in an alley. Begging Superman to fuck you." He pressed two fingers against your core, applying just enough pressure to make you sob. "Denial isn’t just waiting, princess." He withdrew his hand completely, lifting his glistening fingers to your lips. "It’s tasting what you can’t have."
You sucked his fingers into your mouth, whimpering at the taste of yourself, salt and desperation. His eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the blue.
"Good girl," he growled. "Now watch." He stroked himself slowly, his fist gliding over his thick length as he watched your bound wrists tremble. "See what you made me?"
Pre-cum beaded at his tip. "All those little columns… your perfume in the elevator… the way you bite your lip when you think I’m not looking." His thumb smeared the wetness across the swollen head. "You did this."
He stepped closer, his cock pressing against your thigh, hot and heavy. "Tell me," he breathed against your mouth, "do you want Clark? Or Superman?"
You shook your head, frantic. "You—both—"
"Wrong answer." He gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly against the brick. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing, not entering. "Choose."
"Superman," you gasped. "Please—"
He thrust in, one brutal, perfect stroke that stole your breath. You screamed, the sound swallowed by the city’s distant roar. He held himself deep, unmoving, as you quivered around him.
"Good," he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. "Now stay still." His hands tightened on your hips, holding you suspended. "Don’t move. Don’t come." His lips brushed your ear. "Not until I give you permission."
You whimpered, trembling with the effort to obey as he began to move, slow, deliberate pulls that dragged every ridge against your walls.
Denial wasn't waiting. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was Superman making you his.
The alley’s brick scraped your shoulders raw as he pinned you higher, each measured thrust deeper than the last. His suit’s fabric rasped against your thighs, rough Kryptonian weave against silk stockings, while his hips snapped forward with inhuman control.
Sweat beaded along his jawline, mingling with your smeared lipstick. He watched you unravel, blue eyes sharp behind the disguise of heroism.
"You feel that?" he growled, slowing to a near-still grind that made your hips jerk against the silk restraints. "Every inch." His thumb found your clit, circling just shy of the pressure you craved. "Denial isn’t suffering. It’s art." You choked back a sob, thighs trembling around him. He smiled, Clark’s gentle curve, Superman’s predatory edge. "Beg prettier."
"Please!" The word tore from you, ragged. "Let me—"
His hand clamped over your mouth. "No." The thrusts resumed, brutal and precise. "You don’t ask." He nipped your collarbone, teeth sharp through the thin blouse. "You take what I give you."
The silk restraints burned your wrists as you strained against them, every nerve screaming for release. His thumb circled your clit with agonising lightness, close enough to tease, never enough to push you over. You arched against his palm, a muffled sob vibrating against his skin.
"Patience," he breathed against your ear. His hips snapped forward, driving deeper. "You wanted denial. Feel it."
He withdrew almost completely, leaving you empty and shaking, then slammed back in, once, twice, before holding himself still again. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back. "Look at me."
Tears blurred your vision.
Above you, Superman glowed faintly in the dim light, the blue sharpened to something primal. The S-shield pressed hot against your chest, branding you. His thumb brushed away a tear track, his hips rolled in a slow, devastating circle, grinding deep.
A choked whimper escaped you. "Now," he commanded, his hand sliding down to grip your hipbone, "come for me."
The permission shattered you.
The orgasm ripped through you like a supernova, violent, blinding, your back arching off the brick as you screamed into his palm.
Waves of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you under. You convulsed around him, milking every inch of his cock as he held himself deep, letting you ride it out against the unyielding wall of his body.
When the tremors subsided, you sagged against him, boneless. He lowered you slowly, your feet touching the gritty pavement. The silk scarf still bound your wrists, but his hands were gentle now, cradling your face. His thumb brushed your swollen bottom lip.
"Good girl," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The tenderness was almost worse than the roughness.
He untied the silk scarf with careful precision, letting it pool around your wrists. Your fingers trembled as you touched his chest, the S-shield still warm beneath your palm. He caught your hand, pressing your knuckles to his lips. "You know now," he murmured against your skin. "Officially, Clark Kent is Superman."
The alley’s shadows softened around you both. Distant sirens faded into the city’s hum. You stared at him, the smudged lipstick, the disheveled curl falling over his brow, and saw Clark Kent beneath the cape. "So," you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw, "no more supply closets?"
His laugh was low, warm, familiar. "Oh, princess." He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a slow, deep kiss that tasted like ozone and forgiveness. "Supply closets were amateur hour." His thumb brushed your bottom lip, wiping away the last trace of crimson.
"But no more construction sites." The command was velvet steel. "If you want me…" His eyes darkened, holding yours. "…ask."
You shivered, the aftershocks still echoing in your bones. "What if I want Superman?"
He stepped back, adjusting his suit with effortless grace. The transformation was instant, shoulders squared, chin lifted, the shy farm boy erased by the hero’s poise. "Then call for him." A ghost of Clark’s smile flickered beneath the stern mask. "But remember…" He tapped your nose lightly. "…denial works both ways."
Before you could protest, he was gone, a blur of red and blue streaking skyward.
You stood alone in the alley, silk scarf dangling from your fingers. The scent of cedar and rain clung to your skin.
Back at the Daily Planet, chaos reigned. Perry bellowed about deadlines; reporters scrambled. You sank into your chair, knees still weak. Across the bullpen, Clark Kent’s desk sat empty, a half-eaten donut beside his keyboard.
You touched your throat where the scarf had bitten in.
Ask.
The elevator dinged. Clark stepped out, glasses slightly askew, tie perfectly knotted. He carried two coffees. His gaze found yours instantly. You avoided his gaze, shuffling notes with shaking hands.
"Princess," he said softly, placing a latte on your desk. His fingers brushed yours, deliberate, lingering. "Heard you had quite the adventure."
Heat flooded your cheeks. "Just doing my job." The lie tasted thin. Your thighs still ached from being pinned against brick, the ghost of silk restraints burning your wrists.
"Mm." He leaned close, voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. "Next time you want a rescue…" His breath warmed your ear. "…try the break room." He straightened, adjusting his glasses with that familiar, shy smile. "Less scaffolding."
Lois raised an eyebrow from her desk. "You two sharing secrets?"
Clark winked. "Just coffee."
But as he walked away, his hand grazed your thigh beneath the desk, brief, electric.
You lifted the latte.
Scrawled on the cup in Clark’s neat print: Tonight. Your place. Bring the scarf.
Some of the best one piece fanficton... No actually, some of the best fanficon I have ever read period I found on this blog.
What the fuck did you sacrifice to the gods to get such immaculate taste? I need to know
Hehehe <3
I'm on zs discord server, so I see great fanfic recommendations daily. Although, even without that I think it's really easy to find great fanfics and beautiful art. People in this fandom are just really talented.
And they're extremely kind! Some of them offered to make beautiful fanfics based on my brainrot posts and silly comics and others even commissioned me to make art for their fanfics.
They deserve a shout out.
@smallsilvermoons
„of kidnapping and kisses”
@reverse-mountain-all-the-way
Sweet Dreams
@alone77
"Wildest Dream"
@sassyresacon1990
"sweet dreams are made of this (who am I to disagree)"
driplord69
"hug your heart out"
@ironicveghead
"Besotted for Blond"
"Veracity"
"Can I Call You Mine?"
"A Kindled Hearth"
Rowanoa
"When I sleep I dream of you (please, wake up)"
I'd also like to mention some more writers whose fanfics always hit me with inspiration:
DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition
hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)
word count: 372,978
chapters: 67/70
the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)
word count: 503,570
chapters: 45/45
draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.
word count: 199,548
chapters: 36/36
the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.
word count: 289,780
chapters: 33/33
this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.
word count: 118,892 & 178,268
chapters: 31/31 & 39/39
rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).
Chewing and gnawing on the irony One Piece continually shows with the main characters where they're doing objectively kind and helpful things and that's what gets them in trouble with the law. It's the selective application of criminal justice. The bias and room for corruption built into the system itself. It's delicious. It's horribly relevant. I'm obsessed.
This post was inspired by this screencap of people discussing Zoro being a wanted criminal over a shot of him protectively cradling a little girl
But it can also be with things like Usopp finally getting a wanted poster and the incriminating picture is of him freeing a bunch of slaves. Things like Nami's treasure stash being legally taken by the same marines who let Arlong terrorize her village for years. Things like Luffy's bounty going up after doing the government's work for them taking out Crocodile and saving a whole country from years of drought. And of course, things like the very first plot point, where Zoro is criminalized not for his ruthless kills (those were legal) but for protecting a child from a petty marine's untrained dog.
I'm sure others could add more examples but you get the gist. It's brilliantly done and I eat it up every time. Especially because it's still not black and white. Pirates do awful things. Marines do good things. But in the end, the only people truly free to do everything they believe is right are those who have already been deemed criminals.
Pirates do awful things. Marines do good things. But in the end, the only people truly free to do everything they believe is right are those who have already been deemed criminals.
This line goes so fucking hard op & I think it might just be the thesis for the entire show omg.
It's the fact that our real world is so terrifyingly close to what is happening in One Piece. Or maybe it was always like this and Oda is opening our eyes in ways that are more relatable and easier to digest. I'm in love with such analysis and the people who do them
I cannot believe there's absolutely no way to watch free shows and movies anymore, there are too many paid streaming platforms and pirating websites have viruses and ads preventing you from watching it uninterrupted((.)) id rather follow the rules and purchase media moving forward because it is too inconvenient. Seriously, free and no ads or viruses with 1080p streaming is DEAD.
Exactly! It's freaking annoying when I want to watch movies but I would have to subscribe to like 24 different services . Just to watch the shows that I like.
i like using streaming apps but there are waaaay too many and they're all stealing my data .i wish there was a secure and organized way to have millions of shows and movies available one one app. but alas. we've truly gone full circle back to cable + now it spies on you. its a real shame. i dont want to fill my device storage with tons of boring and stupid cash grabs.
i know, it's so annoying for everything to be paid nowadays, especially movies and tv shows. it would be perfect if i could watch them without getting infected by some virus or some shit. i'm fine with ads, they gotta run themselves somehow, but i want to watch stuff and .live! if they have to use different domains i'm okay with that too, because free media is .top dog either way.
for mobile users, it especially sucks, because you can't just use websites and you have to not only pay, but you have to download a billion apps just to find what the thing you wanna watch is on. it doesn't help that the streaming services take up...so much space. so much.
It's fine, it's cool. This is happening. Chappell Roan is Roan of Arc, champion and savior of sword lesbians and queer kids the world over. And, of course, the art goes so hard.
