[𝜗℘] :: olderbf!toji loves grinding against you while you suck on his fingers :: cws. smut, pwp. legal age gap.
it started off innocent. cuddling up against toji on the couch, watching your reality show, laughing with each other when funny commentary dropped—just your usual, lazy friday evening.
but then the entire mood shifted as toji snuck his fingers up to your lips. his fingertips were tracing the outline of your pretty mouth, feeling the plumpness of your lips on his rough skin. not before long, his index and middle finger pushed through, ending up inside of your wet mouth.
“suck on ‘m, doll,” toji whispers, teeth sinking into the outer rim of your ear to gently tug at it, “might give ya a reward if you do, m’kay?”
you obediently do as told—your submissive nature being a feature that never failed to arouse toji even more. you suckle on his girthy fingers, your saliva coating his skin and eventually trickling down the corner of your mouth.
his fingers are pulled and pushed back and forth, the tips curling against your tongue as toji mocks the motions he does whenever he’s fingering your cunt. you almost choke because of how deep his two fingers reach—a third digit soon joining the wetness of your mouth.
“mhm, jus’ like that, yeahh—good girl,” toji coos and encourages you from behind, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you still on his lap.
a whine escapes the back of your throat as you feel toji grind your body against the massive bulge in his pants—your plump ass never not turning him into a groaning and grunting mess.
“fuck. . . can’t wait to have ya suck on somethin’ else, ay? gonna put that mouth to good use on my dick once y’ve earned it.”
you close your eyes, thighs squirming and rubbing against each other. you can already taste him on your tongue. you push your hips back to meet toji’s halfway, the friction making both of you breath heavily.
“wan’ you—“ you manage to speak up, words slurring a bit as your own drool hinders your speech, the gathered up saliva dripping down your chin.
you continue to suck on toji’s fingers as he moves them around, feeling the gums, tongue and roof of your mouth. not a place goes untouched; “pleash? wanna suck you off, toji.”
the older man hisses and tightens his grip around your waist, holding you down firmly whilst his confined cock presses up against your clothed cunt—both eagerly searching for one another.
“yeah, yeah— ya can in a sec, baby,” toji mumbles, licking your earlobe and sucking on the small bit of skin before releasing it, “lemme see how good ya can suck my fingers first.”
a whine in protest leaves your lips and your own hand travels down between your legs. you just need to relieve your own needs, though that dire attempt is quickly stopped by the man underneath you. a smack against your thighs—one which was enough to make you wince—is given out as a warning.
“tch, y’re fuckin’ impatient, huh? greedy slut.” toji scoffs, tone degrading and yet so hot as his deep voice rings in your ear, “i said in a second.”
toji’s fingers reach all the way down until they hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water as your gag reflex threatens to be triggered. his fingers luckily pull back again after a second or two, drenched in your warm saliva.
you gasp for air whilst still feeling toji grind against your ass—the feeling of the fat rubbing against his dick making him so hard that his mind starts to go blank.
he needs you too. now.
“sorry, baby. looks like ya have to take my cock in y’r tight little cunt instead of y’r mouth—ya fine with that?”
sukuna defending you from his friends! tags: fluff, rushed, uhhh some violence. sukuna x shy!femreader!!!!!!!!!!!
sukuna had one arm draped over your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as you both stand outside the front door of his friends house.
tonight was the night you were going to meet his friends.
your nerves were through the roof, your hands were clammy and your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster that was twisting, turning and looping voraciously.
you’ve never been good with… people. how you managed to pull sukuna is a mystery. you’re so shy that you practically border on recluse.
sukuna looks at your from the side of his eye. “relax, baby. they’ll like you.” he says, chuckling despite himself at your anxiety. “what if they don’t?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “then we’ll leave.” he shrugged. he banged on the door again. “open the fuckin door.” he says impatiently but with no real anger behind it.
the door swings open and reveals one of his friends, satoru; standing there with a stupid grin. “yo, suks’.” he daps sukuna up. they say their greetings until his eyes land on you. “who’s this?” he asks, his tone lowering and becoming dismissive. you looked up at sukuna, expecting him to answer for you, he just raises one eyebrow, signalling for you to introduce yourself on your own. “i—uh… i’m [name]. sukunas girlfriend..” you mumble, your eyes darting around nervously. his friends eyes scan you up and down critically. “yeah… okay.. m’satoru.” he says quickly. sukunas eyes narrow at the dismissive body language and tone. he noticed it, of course he did. but decided to see how far satoru would push.
satoru leads the two of you inside his house where there are already some people sitting down on the couches. your fingers stays intertwined with sukunas’ the entire time, sukuna finds an empty spot on the couch and sits down, pulling you down with him.
your knee bounces nervously, sukuna puts his large hand over it whilst focusing on the conversation his friends are having. he offered a small smirk as quiet reassurance that it’s okay.
or so you thought????
you stayed quiet in the conversation majority of the time until one of the others guys, suguru, looks at you and decided to talk to you. “so… you’re [name], right? sukunas new girlfriend?” his tone was almost… condescending? but you couldn’t tell if that was just your nerves making you think that. “yeah..” you nodded, giving a small smile. he pauses and eyes you down the same way satoru did before, his eyes filled with judgement. “right.. right.” he looks away.
the rest of the time went by slowly, you stayed quiet majority of the time. until a topic of conversation got brought up about hobbies. one of the hobbies that you took part in got brought up. sukuna nudges you. “yknow.. my girlfriend loves art, don’t you?” he wraps an arm around your waist. “u-uh.. yeah, i paint ‘n.. stuff.” you said shyly. satoru glances at you for a second then at suguru and bursts into laughter. “seriously, who even is this bitch?” satoru gasps out through laughter. your face burns with embarassment, sukunas gentle strokes on your hip paused. “the fuck did you just say?” he removed his arm from you completely and stood up to slowly walk to satoru. towering over him. satoru was carelessly manspread on the couch, holding a can of bear. “what? she just waltzes in here, sits there all quiet, she’s— she’s literally taking up space! why would you even invite her if she’s gonna be boring? she’s not even that hot either!” satoru laughs at his own mean commentary, suguru follows along with his wheezes of laughter.
before satoru can say anything else, sukunas fist was already wound up and crashing down on his face. his whole body snapping to the side as well as his head, the sheer strength of the bunch sent him on the plush carpet of his lavish house. “say it again. i fucking dare you.” his voice a low growl. sugurus laughter was sharply cut off, he sat there frozen in shock. these six-foot-something guys were shit scared of sukuna who was literally in the same height and weight range as them. satoru spat out the blood that was dripping out his mouth. “it was just a joke..” satorus voice was strained. he held his jaw with one hand and cowardly looked away from sukuna. “apologise. the two of you. apologise to my fuckin girlfriend.” your eyes widened. sukuna drags satoru up by his collar and drags him to your feet. “i-i’m.. so sorry, i’ll never say that again. i didn’t mean it.” he babbled on and on. the other friends that were previously attending this hangout were sitting there stunned. suguru sat there wide eyed before apologising to you frantically as to not be next. you waved them off shyly. “i-it’s okay. really, it’s fine.”
you looked up at sukuna, he immediately sensed your discomfort and lingering mortification. “let’s just fucking go.” he grabbed your arm; the veins on his temples popping out from suppressed rage.
“i should’ve done more to those fuckers.” he hissed, turning on the engine. “kuna’, it’s okay..” you put a hand on his shoulder. he turned his head to look at you and his eyes softened. his anger seemed to slowly fade away. “i’m never talking to them again, im blocking them as soon as we get home, i hate them, how dare they talk to my girlf—“ you cut his oncoming rant off. “sukuna,” you said softly, offering him a small smile, “it’s okay. i promise.” you kissed his cheek. he sighed heavily. “alright… they didn’t upset you too much, did they?” he asked roughly, you could tell he was a little bit worried.
you huffed a small laugh. “i’m okay, sukuna.”
a/u yo yo yo am i still relevant lmk lmk lmk!! soz i haven’t been writing much i literally moved states so that’s been super fun (no it’s HELL) and i’ve been so busy settling in. send me more requests though! this was originally a request from TWO MONTHS AGO. i never got around to doing it though. sorry to whoever requested. i might rewrite later, this is kinda ass.
ᝰ.ᐟ your soft bf!toji is a total meanie in bed ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
mean bf!toji spends the whole day being a total sweetheart—cooking you dinner, giving you soft kisses on the forehead, and holding your hand in public—only to completely lock the bedroom door, pin your wrists over your head, and look down at you with a dark, heavy stare that tells you the "nice guy" act is officially over for the night.
mean bf!toji is normally so gentle with his hands during the day, using his thumb to softly wipe a stray crumb off your face or tuck your hair behind your ear, but the second he gets you on the bed, those same hands are gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to tilt your head up so he can admire how pretty you look when you're scared of him.
mean bf!toji loves to pamper you in public, happily carrying all the heavy grocery bags, pulling you to the safe side of the sidewalk, and letting you pick whatever movie you want to watch, all while secretly plotting exactly how he's going to make you cry and beg for mercy later that evening.
mean bf!toji is so hyper-aware of the contrast in his behavior that he uses it to mess with your head; he’ll lean down while you're trembling under him and whisper against your ear, “you like it better when i’m mean to you, don’t you?”
mean bf!toji ignores your whines and protests when he changes positions or pulls you around like a ragdoll. in daily life, he moves carefully around you so he doesn't accidentally hurt you, but in bed, he uses his massive size and weight to completely overwhelm you, letting you feel exactly how helpless you are against him.
mean bf!toji makes you beg for every single thing. even if he knows you're desperate, he will completely stop moving, prop himself up on his elbows, and stare at you with a smug smirk until you verbally ask for exactly what you want.
mean bf!toji loves slapping your pussy with his palm right before going in, loving the sharp, loud crack it makes against your skin and the way it leaves a bright pink mark that contrasts with his tanned hands. he’ll do it just to startle a loud gasp out of you, watching your thighs twitch as he tells you to open up wider.
mean bf!toji likes dragging the heavy, blunt tip of his cock up and down your wet slit, teasing you ruthlessly until you're begging him to just put it in. instead of giving in, he’ll slap his wet tip against your clit over and over, mocking the needy little noises you make and telling you that you haven't earned it yet.
mean bf!toji just laughs when you try to complain that he’s being too rough or too mean. he won't slow down; instead, his chest rumbles against your back as he grips your hips harder, driving into you with even less mercy just to prove that he rules the bed.
mean bf!toji loves leaving you completely ruined and breathless. he likes looking down at the mess he made of you—smudged makeup, tangled hair, and thighs shaking uncontrollably—while he casually rolls off to grab a drink, completely unfazed while you can barely move.
mean bf!toji will pull your hair back with just enough force to make your eyes water, forcing you to look directly at him while he pounds into you. he hates when you try to hide your face in the pillows or close your eyes; he wants to see every single expression of pleasure and overload on your face.
mean bf!toji uses verbal degradation as a tool to keep you completely flustered. he’ll call you a "good little slut," mock how loud you're breathing, or ask you why you're crying over a little bit of fun, his voice deep, raspy, and completely devoid of the warmth he usually speaks to you with.
mean bf!toji will deliberately overstimulate you, rubbing his thumb harshly against your clit while hammering into you, and when you start to sob because it's too much, he’ll just kiss you hard to muffle your screams and keep going right through your orgasm.
mean bf!toji flips the switch right back to being a doting boyfriend the next morning. he’ll kiss your bruised hips, bring you painkillers and breakfast in bed, and pull you into a warm, gentle cuddle—leaving you completely dizzy over how the man who was so beautifully cruel to you a few hours ago is now softly rubbing your back and calling you his baby.
brat taming with choso ! 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
in which you refuse his princess treatment !? (smut)
you’re on one knee in the hallway, fingers fumbling with the laces of your left sneaker, when you hear choso’s footsteps stop behind you.
“princess?” his voice is soft, confused. “what are you doing?”
you glance over your shoulder. he’s standing there in his usual black hoodie, hair loose, brows drawn together like you just announced you were moving to another country. you finish the knot, double it, and stand up.
“tying my shoes,” you say, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon.”
he blinks. “i always do that for you.”
“yeah, well.” you grab your bag from the hook by the door. “i can do it myself today.”
choso doesn’t move. he just watches you, quiet, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. you’re already reaching for the doorknob when he finally speaks again.
“did i forget something?” he asks. “did i do something wrong?”
you pause, turn around. his face is open, genuinely worried, and it makes your chest twist. “no, baby. you didn’t do anything wrong. i just… wanted to do it myself this morning.”
he nods slowly, but the crease between his brows doesn’t smooth out. “okay.”
you make it all the way to the kitchen before he appears again. you’re standing at the counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, when he stops in the doorway.
“princess,” he says again, softer this time. “i made you breakfast already. it’s in the fridge. the good yogurt. the one with the strawberries you like.”
you look at the bowl in your hands, then at him. “i know. i just felt like cereal today.”
he stares at you for a long moment. “you hate that cereal.”
“it’s fine.”
“you said it tastes like cardboard last week.”
you sigh, setting the bowl down. “choso, it’s okay. i can make my own breakfast. you don’t have to do everything for me.”
he doesn’t argue. he just watches you eat three bites of the cardboard cereal before you give up and push the bowl away. he doesn’t say anything when you grab a banana instead. instead, he keeps watching, quiet and thoughtful, like he’s cataloging every small rebellion.
by the time you’re in the car, he’s still quiet. his hand rests on your thigh like it always does, thumb stroking absent circles, but his mind is clearly somewhere else. you don’t push it. you just let the silence sit between you, warm and familiar.
he doesn’t ask again until you’re home that night.
you’re in the bedroom, changing out of your work clothes, when he appears in the doorway. he’s been home for an hour already—long enough to shower, long enough to make dinner and leave it covered on the stove. but he doesn’t mention any of that. he just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you pull a t-shirt over your head.
“sweetheart,” he says, and there’s something different in his voice now. lower. “come here.”
you turn. he’s still in the doorway, but his eyes have that look—the one he gets when he’s been thinking too hard about something and finally decided what to do about it. you cross the room slowly. he meets you halfway, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his.
“you’ve been doing everything today,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. “tying your shoes. making breakfast. carrying your own bag. i didn’t stop you. but i need to know why.”
you rest your forehead against his collarbone. “i don’t know. i just wanted to feel like i could handle things. without you doing everything for me.”
he’s quiet for a moment. then his hands slide down to your ass, gripping you firmly, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. he carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, laying you down on your stomach, his body already covering yours.
“you can handle things,” he says against the back of your neck, his voice low and rough. “i know that. but you don’t have to.” his hands are already working your jeans down your hips, yanking your panties with them. “you don’t have to do anything when i’m here. that’s the point.”
you feel him shift behind you, hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesn’t wait. doesn’t tease. just pushes inside in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you gasping into the mattress.
“choso—”
“shut up,” he snaps, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you harder. “you wanna act like you don’t need me? fine. but you’re gonna take this cock like its the only thing you need.”
his hips snap forward, burying him deeper, and you moan, your fingers fisting the sheets. “you were so fucking stubborn this morning. tying your own shoes like i wasn’t right there. making that shitty cereal like i didn’t already have something ready for you. what the fuck was that?”
you whimper, your body rocking with every thrust. “i just—i wanted—”
“you wanted to be difficult,” he growls, his hand sliding around to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs shake. “you wanted to prove something. but look at you now. face down, ass up, dripping all over my cock because you can’t even pretend you don’t need me.” his pace is brutal, each thrust punching a moan out of you. “say it. tell me how badly you need me.”
“i- i need you,” you gasp. “cho, please—”
“that’s right,” he pants, his voice dark and mean. “you need me. you need me to fuck you like this because you can't make yourself cum as good as i can. but you’re still my good girl, aren’t you? my perfect little princess who just needed to be reminded who she belongs to.” his fingers work faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and you’re so close you can barely think. “cum for me. cum on this cock like the needy slut you are. show me how much you need it.”
you cum with a broken moan, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking. he fucks you through it, his pace relentless, his hand still working your clit until you’re sobbing into the pillow. only then does he let himself go, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he fills you.
he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.
“now,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep. “are you gonna be good and let me take care of you?”
you press a kiss to his chest, your body still humming. “okay.”
✦Clark Masterlist - Read on aO3! - Main Masterlist✦
✦summary: all week, clark's been acting strange. he won't go near you, won't look at you, and by friday he's vanished all together. everyone seems to know why but you. but nothing's going to keep you away from him. not for that long.✦
✦warnings/tags: friends to lovers, secret identity shenanigans, emotional angst, fluff, sex pollen, sex pollen level smut, a little plot for the porn (male masturbation, manhandling, clark's feral, emotional sex, dry humping, blowjobs and facefucking, dumbification, dirty talk, sensitive reader, finger sucking, clark gets nasty, body worship, crazy overstimulation, sex pollen stamnia, fingering, oral f!recieving, begging, praise kink, monster dick clark, he fucks like a machine, breeding kink), no use of y/n, no descrption of reader✦
✦wc: 10.5k✦
✦author's note: request and voted fic! i got. real horny with it✦
Clark has been acting strange all week.
He got into work on Monday with a red face, and you didn’t question it. He runs everywhere. It’s a little ridiculous he doesn’t have a red face more.
“Want some water?” You’d tapped on his desk, and he’d let out a sharp breath.
“Yeah.” His voice had been strangely rough, his glasses almost slipping off his nose. “Water- Water would be nice. Thank you.
He hadn’t looked you in the eyes.
Not when you brought the water to his desk, or for the rest of the day. When you got in the next morning, he was already at his desk, but didn’t do more than mumble a good morning. His shoulders had squared and rippled, when you’d walked past.
You’d gone to the bathroom, and made sure you didn’t reek of something rancid. Maybe there was a sulfur leak in your apartment and you’d just gotten used to it. Maybe you’d stepped in dog poop on the train and no one’s told you.
“Do I smell bad?” You’d asked Jimmy, and he’d looked at you like your were crazy.
“I don’t know? I don’t go around smelling people like a- A serial killer-“
“I’m not asking you to smell me like a serial killer.” You’d hissed, leaning down to block him in his chair. “I’m asking you to smell me like a friend, Lois smells me all the time-“
Jimmy had eyed you suspiciously. “If this is some weird mating dance, I’m not interested-‘
“It’s not a mating dance!”
“It seems like a mating dance-“
“It’s not-“ You’d shaken your head. “Just stop being a fucking pussy and smell me!”
Someone had cleared their throat behind you. Jimmy’s eyes had widened, fixed right over your shoulder, and you’d known who it was before you turned.
You know that low, controlled sound. You know the rush that his attention brings, and the shiver up your spine whenever he’s close. You close your eyes tight, breathing through your nose, and turn to Clark with a plastered smile.
“Hi, Clark! No one was trying to smell anyone-“
You cut yourself off when you see him. You almost forget how to speak.
He’s a wreck. Curly hair is plastered to his brow, his white button up is more sweat stains than dry spots, and there’s a vein pushing out of his neck that seems painful. His glasses keep trying to slip off his nose, and he’s shifting like even just standing is uncomfortable. He’s pale and red all at once, ruddy in his face and paper white in his fists. The flush deepens near his neck, and returns to his arms right before the cut off of his rolled up sleeves. He’s breathing through his mouth.
His eyes are black, and gleaming.
You scramble away from Jimmy, yanking yourself back from going to press a hand to Clark’s brow.
Clark takes a jagged, stumbling step back.
You look back to Jimmy, and he gives you a tight shake of his head. He doesn’t know what to do either. You’ve never seen Clark with so much as a paper cut, and now it looks like he needs a hospital.
“Hey, buddy.” Jimmy tries, voice soft. Like he’s speaking to a feral animal. “You feeling alright?”
Clark jerks his head to Jimmy, and his nostrils flare. Like he’d almost forgotten Jimmy was there.
Jimmy leans back. And you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s Clark. The softest, sweetest heart you know, shoved into a giant’s body.
But like this, Clark doesn’t look like a man. He looks like something that’s crawled out of your darkest wet dream. Like something that should be in the sky, fighting Superman. With the black eyes and sudden, jagged movements, he looks like an animal.
He looks dangerous.
And he doesn’t respond right away. Clark stares at Jimmy, breathing heavily, then squeezes his eyes shut. You and Jimmy exchange another worried look. If he’s been corrupted by something—in this world, you can’t rule anything out—and he attacks, you’re not sure you can fight him off. Emotionally or physically. Clark’s huge, he’d crush Jimmy with one fist and you’d be nothing but an annoying fly to be swatted across the room.
But whatever’s going on with Clark, he seems to drag it under control. He opens his eyes, and a thin ring of blue is back.
“I’m fine.” He rasps, staring at Jimmy. “Just- Didn’t sleep well. You know.”
Jimmy blinks. “No, uh- I don’t-“
Clark looks at you.
And you could swear the blue flickers, when your eyes meet.
“You smell good.” He mutters.
He turns like something’s dragging him, and walks away. You and Jimmy stand there for about three more minutes—in total baffled silence—before Jimmy’s mouth falls open.
“What the fuck is up with him?”
Nobody seems to be sure.
On Tuesday, he seems a little better. He eats lunch with you. Wheels his chair next to yours like usual while he’s editing, because you always catch typos he misses, and he’s a good reporter but not the best writer.
“You can’t use that word here.” You tap his laptop screen. He frowns.
“There are no other words I could use, though-“
“Corrupt?”
“But- Oh.” He sighs, hitting backspace. “See? That’s why you’re the expert.”
You laugh softly, and Clark gives you his usual small, almost shy smile.
“How’s your piece coming?” He asks kindly—always kindly—and you groan.
“Dogshit.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad-“
“My main source backed out.” You grumble. “Like a little baby bitch. I can’t make this level of accusations again LuthorCorp without a source, it’s asking for a defamation lawsuit, and after the last one Perry would kill me-“
“But you won the last one.” Clark frowns, and you give him a pointed look.
“Yeah. Because I had a source.”
“Ah. Right.” He pauses, pushing his glasses slowly up his nose.
You watch the movement as subtly as possible. You love it when he does that. It’s a tiny, adorable quirk that makes you want to rip his hand away and push them up yourself.
“What if I said I have a source for you?” He asks softly, and you perk up.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He grins. “You know, I’d think you’d have faith in me, I wouldn’t lie about that-“
“Shut up, I’m excited-“
“I can tell.” He boops your nose, and you stick your tongue out at him.
He does that all the time. He says you get a bunny nose when you’re excited about something, and then you hit him because nothing about you is bunny like.
Sometimes you say that, and he chuckles.
You have no idea. He mutters under his breath.
And sometimes he hits your nose, and your breath hitches because he touched you.
Today you keep it under control.
It’s Clark that freezes. Coughs and goes red, wheeling his chair an inch back. You frown at him, ready to ask what’s wrong, but he shakes his head like he’s already denying you an answer.
“It’s- Uh- Superman.”
You blink. “What?”
“Superman can be your source.” He grunts, shifting in his chair. “I can ask him to. For you.”
“I- You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“I can find someone else-“
“No, I- I’ve got it.”
He stares at you. You stare back, heart swelling with something sweeter than you usually allow it to feel.
You’re used to your feelings for Clark. You try not to think about them, especially not in his presence. There’s no amount of love you’d risk your friendship for.
But he makes that rule hard to follow sometimes. When he starts being stupidly perfect.
You smile at him, wide and unrestrained. “Thank you.”
He nods—tight and jerked—stares for a long, long moment. He shoots to his feet.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” He announces to the whole bullpen.
Clark sprints away. Jimmy gives you a questioning look, and you shake your head.
He doesn’t come back for an hour. When he does, his face is wholly red again.
He’s back to not looking you in the eyes. Back to looking so sick you’re worried he might be going feral.
And you have no idea what to do.
Lois gets back on Wednesday, and the first thing she says to you is What’s up with Smallville? Perry corners you at your desk to ask if you’ve got any idea what’s Clark’s been up to that might be doing this to him. Steve loudly jokes that everyone should be placing bets on when Clark passes out. Cat keeps trying to bring him tea—a thin guise so she can suggest home remedies to whatever super hangover he has—and Clark always drinks it with shaking hands.
He listens to all her suggestions without interrupting, but whenever Jimmy suggests Urgent Care—you’ve given up on trying to get him to the ER—Clark grunts a sound like no and won’t hear another word.
You’re getting really worried. Everyone gets sick, but Clark’s always talking about his very good immune system.
And nobody gets sick like this. Legally, Perry should be making him go home, but no one can get close enough to confirm a fever, and it’s somehow not effecting his work performance.
“Clark.” You sit on the edge of his desk, keeping your voice soft. “You need to go to a doctor.”
His whole body locks up. His fingers freeze on his keyboard, and he bows his head like he’s in prayer.
“Clark-“
“Please.” He says, so quiet you almost miss it. “Back up.”
You blink. “Back up?”
He nods, and there’s a sting in your heart.
He hasn’t asked anyone else to back up.
But you slide off his desk, and take a single step back. Another, when he doesn’t relax from the first.
You clear your throat, tucking your hands behind your back. Clark lets out a heavy, ragged exhale, and looks up.
He still won’t fully meet your gaze. His darkened eyes are fixed right over your head, and you try not to let it hurt more than it already does.
“Clark.” You’ve lost a little bit of nerve. You try not to let him hear it. “The doctor-“
“I don’t need a doctor.” He tells the ceiling, and you sigh.
“You’re sick-“
“No. I’m not.”
“Dude, I- I can feel your fever from here.” The heat, rolling off his body like he’s an active star. “At least just go so they can say you’re not sick.”
He doesn’t answer. You almost take a step forward, before reeling yourself back. He doesn’t want you too close.
“Please?” You say. “It would make all of us feel better.”
That makes him look at you. For just a split second, barely a heartbeat, but long enough.
His eyes go wholly back. He wheels his chair backwards, like there’s something toxic coming off of you that he’s trying to avoid.
And it hurts. It hurts so much your face burns with shame, and your stomach does a sick clench of pain.
It’s never fun, for the man you’ve quietly been in love with for years, to look at you like you’re proximity might kill him.
The only thing that stops you from crying is worry for him.
But that’s not enough to hold back the crack in your voice.
“Clark- Please-“
He shakes his head, jaw clenching. You swallow, and take another step back.
“Oh- Okay. Sorry.”
You turn on your heels. Behind you, Clark rasps your name.
And you look back. You can’t help it.
But all he does is stare at you.
So you walk away.
Clark doesn’t come in on Thursday. Jimmy goes to check on him, but won’t report back on what he finds. When he gets back to the office, his face is bloodless and eyes wider than an owl.
“Is he-“
“He’s not sick.” Jimmy stares at you like you’re a ghost. “He’s- Um- We should- Give him space.”
You frown. “But-“
“Lots of space.” Jimmy mutters under his breath, already walking away. “And maybe me some bleach. Freakin’- Gross-“
Lois comes up next to you, watching Jimmy head into the bathroom. You’re wringing your hands, lips pressed in a painfully tight line, and Lois grabs your wrists.
“Don’t go visit him.”
You shoot her a glare. “I wasn’t going to-“
“Yes, you were.” She raises her brows. “Don’t.”
“But-“
“Don’t.”
“What if he needs something-“
“I texted his cousin. She knows what to do.”
“To…” You narrow your eyes, pulling your hands from Lois’ grip. “You know what’s going on with him, don’t you.”
Lois shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Lois-“
“He’s going to be fine.” She says, giving you a firm look. “Don’t check on him.”
She walks away without another word.
On Friday, you go to Clark’s apartment.
You don’t go inside. Lois’ voice keeps ringing in your head, and while you’re more than willing to disobey her, it’s the way she’d said it.
Don’t.
His door is right there.
Lois’ voice fills the gaps in city noise. Pointed and direct. Almost hopeless. Like she knew you wouldn’t listen.
Don’t.
You made him soup, because you’re pathetic. He’d left his jacket at work on Wednesday, and you’d brought it home to clean up before returning it. You’d had a whole painted daydream made of pastels and watercolor, where you’d give Clark his jacket, he’d swoon with how romantic that is, and then kiss you.
But like real watercolor, the colors bleed and run. Blur together. It’s too fuzzy a picture to be reality.
You stand at his door. You don’t remember walking inside the building.
Don’t.
But you want to.
Don’t.
He could need someone, what if his cousin was busy, what if he’s been waiting for you to check on him-
Don’t.
Lois’ voice isn’t louder than your heartbeat. But it’s level. And your pulse is erratic in your throat and fingers.
And you keep seeing Clark’s face. Keep thinking of how he’d been stiffer than concrete, until you’d moved away.
He wouldn’t want to see you right now. He’d made that clear.
You put the soup and jacket on the doorstep, and ring the doorbell.
Before Clark can open it, you walk away.
On Saturday, you hole up in your apartment and work.
It’s a distraction. Anything not to think of Clark. To think of how sick he is, how he might be in pain, how he might need help but not from you. How lately he can’t stand to be in the same room as you, and apparently everyone gets to know what’s going on with him except you-
You groan, tipping your head back against the couch.
This is exactly what you’re trying not to think about.
It’s hard, though. Impossibly hard. If only because you open your email, and see a bunch of messages from Clark. You open Teams, and his messages are pinned at the top. You send Jimmy something, and have to include Clark as a contributor. Lois sends you something, and Clark is CC’d.
He’s everywhere. You can’t stop checking your phone for a message, even if Jimmy says he’s basically out of commission. Can’t really do anything right now, he’d grumbled, making a sour face. Too… Sick.
He’d said it weird, but everything about this is weird.
Usually you’d talk to Clark about that.
You miss him.
Goddamnit.
Apparently, you’re very bad at not thinking about Clark.
You busy yourself. Clean the apartment, do the laundry, waste the day, don’t think about Clark.
He gave you this pencil. Let you borrow this sweater, that you’ve been hoarding like a dragon with gold since. Sent you the cheesecake in the back of your fridge as a birthday present, and it had been horrible but you’d kept it anyway.
You lie flat on the floor, and fail not to think about Clark a little more. Maybe you should text him. Just so he knows you’re thinking of him. Or text Lois and ask for his cousin’s number, so you can ask her if he’s okay. Or let the anxiety fully overpower Lois’ voice in your head, and go visit him.
You’re about to go with that last option, when there’s a bang on your window. You shoot up with wide eyes, expecting a massive bird.
Instead you find Superman, standing in your fire escape. It’s hard to see him, in the shadows of dusk. His head is strangely bowed, his shoulders slumped in a way you’ve never seen on TV. Maybe he’s just more casual, when he’s doing home visits.
But why is he home visiting you.
Usually that would freak you out. This week, it’s just another fucking thing.
You open the window slowly, poking your head outside.
“Hello?”
Superman looks up at you, and your mouth goes dry.
He doesn’t look well.
Red and pale face, messed up hair, heaving chest. Clenched fists, sweat-slicken face, blown out eyes with barely a ring of blue-
Like Clark.
Just like Clark.
And it’s not just the ragged appearance. It’s something deeper. It’s the way he’s staring at you like he’s worried you’re going to attack him. Like he’s restraining himself from moving, like you’re a repellant and he wants to fly away.
Or something else.
Without the glasses, there’s something else.
He looks desperate. The shadows on his face look longer. Maybe it’s just the sickness overtaking him, but he looks hungry. Desperate and starved. There’s an openness on his face that wasn’t there before. And he’s not looking at you like he’s afraid or skittish.
He’s looking at you like he’s a predator. Like you’re prey.
“Clark?”
“I’m here for your interview-“
You speak at the same time. Your voice is a breath. Superman—Clark? —pushes out his words like they hurt, and falters in a second.
He stumbles back like he’s been hit. You scramble forward to catch him, your body not worried about anything but Clark is going to fall.
Your hand wraps around his wrist. He makes a deep, rumbling sound from his chest. Almost a growl.
His eyes flutter. He moans out your name, trying to tug weakly away.
“Clark- Wait-“
Superman’s body goes slack, and he collapses in your arms.
At one in the morning on Sunday, too much is happening.
You put Clark—Superman? —in your bed. Took his temperature and dropped the thermometer in shock.
He’s burning at 150 degrees.
He should be dead. You’re not even sure how you touched him without burning up.
The thermometer clatters to the ground, and Clark shifts in his sleep. Groans out a garbled, pained noise that sounds like your name.
You swallow, hugging yourself tight. It’s hard not to reach out to him, but you don’t feel like you should. He hadn’t wanted you near him, and you’ve already crossed a few lines by putting him in your bed.
Then he moans, ripping the thin sheets off his body.
That time it was definitely your name.
Superman moaned your name.
You back out of the room slowly, with an embarrassing amount of effort. You can’t rip your eyes away from him.
Clark in your bed, calling for you and rolling around like a rutting beast. Whatever’s tormenting him isn’t enough to wake him up, but it’s enough to drive you out of your mind. You bite the inside of your cheek, and force yourself to close the door. It solves the looking at him problem.
It does nothing for hearing him.
And he’s loud. You’re lucky the apartments have thick walls between units, or you’d get a noise complaint. Clark is almost howling from his room, and whenever you give into temptation and go to check on him, he’s somehow managed to rip another item of clothing off in his sleep.
It starts with his top. The symbol on his chest gets torn to shreds, revealing a broad, flushed chest. He’s got a small happy trail. Muscles that you want to trace, and boobs that might be bigger than yours.
Your eyes wander to his abdomen. There’s a happy trail that leads down, down, down, and-
Oh.
That’s… Big.
You slam the door closed, and run back to the kitchen. Cold water does nothing against the heat building in your core. You splash it on your face and drink two glasses, but you might as well be downing sea salt. You’re thirstier than when you started.
The image seems to be burned behind your eyes. Clark’s bulge. Superman’s bulge.
You still haven’t really dealt with that.
Clark is Superman. Superman is Clark. You’re sure. You’ve spent the last hour on the couch, sketching out timelines and checking your work. The random disappearances in the middle of the day. How you’ve never seen him get drunk. The fact that he’s built like a Greek god but never works out, and whenever Jimmy asks him for a routine he just says grow up on a farm.
And be a Kryptonian. That would probably also help.
To be sure—you have to be positive, before Superman wakes up and you start throwing around accusations—you cut out a pair of paper glasses and build up all your courage.
When you step into your room, it hits you like a tidal wave. The smell of sex, sweat and cum and something deeper. Clark’s ripped off his tights, and apparently the outside boxers are the only thing he’d been using for cover.
You don’t let yourself look. Your traitorous eyes try to, but you refuse to glance past his thick thighs. You won’t violate him like that. You’re here for confirmation, and nothing else.
Carefully, you wipe the sticky hair from Clark’s brow. His whole body shudders under your light touch, and he bucks up to chase your fingers when you pull away. A deep whine escapes from his lips, and you swallow.
Dear lord.
Very, very slowly, you put the paper glasses on his nose. He wrinkles it, trying to buck them off, but you plant a hand on his chest.
You don’t mean to. You move before you can think.
Clark relaxes. His body goes slack like putty, save for a single hand flying to your wrist, holding tight.
He could break you. He’s Superman. You’ve watched—albeit from afar—him pick up whole buildings. But his touch on you is light, as if you’re glass. His jaw relaxes. A purr rumbles under your hand, and his thumb starts to trace small circles.
You stare at him, every logical thought in your head evaporating in the heat of the room. The glasses confirmed exactly what you wanted them to.
Clark is Superman,
And somehow, that’s the least important thing that’s happening right now.
His brow is unfurrowed, his mouth hanging open as he pants out your name.
“Clark?” You breathe, and he moans.
This time, he calls your name. His eyes flutter in his sleep, and his hand starts to move. Dragging yours down his chest. Over his pecs, his ribs, to his abdomen and-
You yank away with a squeak, when you realize. Clark whines, immediately seizing up the second you pull away.
He looks like he’s in pain. Your touch helped, and he’d liked it, and-
No. You can’t. You won’t. You’re stronger than that, and he’s not in his right mind. Whatever’s effecting him—whatever’s strong enough to effect Superman—can’t be letting him think clearly. It would be one thing if he asked. Another to touch him in his sleep, just because he’d moved your hand there. He probably doesn’t even know it’s you.
But he’d been calling your name. He’s calling your name right now.
The steam of the room is getting to your head. You stumble away, squeezing your eyes shut when Clark keens in pain.
If you weren’t such a masochist, you’d put in earbuds to avoid hearing him. But he keeps calling your name.
And you’re not that strong at all.
Clark wakes up at four in the morning. You haven’t even managed to close your eyes.
You’re so dazed from the everything that you don’t hear him coming. You just realize the moans have stopped, and hear a quiet mumble of your name.
When you turn, Clark’s standing in the door of the living room.
He’s naked.
Fully naked.
And this time, you’re too tired stop your eyes from wandering.
He’s glorious. It’s not just the muscle and size of him, it’s all Clark. How his flexing arms are the ones that catch up when you stumble over yourself, and his legs are the ones that bring you coffee in the morning. Those fisted hands hold your hair back when you’re sick and boop your nose. His tense knees bump against yours under almost every table, and his chest keeps you tucked safely away from the world whenever you have a meltdown.
But it’s also the muscle and size of him. He looks wound up, so tight you’re worried he may snap. The coat of sweat on his skin is begging to be licked off, and his thick arms could wrap around your neck and you wouldn’t complain.
And his cock.
You don’t know how he manages to walk around with that thing. It’s bigger than the toys you’ve seen in shops, bigger than the ones in porn that have to be fake, bigger than the lewdest drawings on the internet. Thick and veiny, hard and standing proud. His balls are heavy, and you kind of want to put them in your mouth. Every inch of him is slicked with cum, and you realize you just licked your lips far too late.
Clark clears his throat. You look up with burning cheeks and wide eyes.
“Clark, I- I’m so sorry-“
“Don’t.” He mutters, shifting on his feet. You can see his arms jerking wildly. Like he’s actively stopping them from moving. “I’m the one that should be sorry, I- I shouldn’t have come here.”
He winces at his own word choice, rubbing a stain of release on his thigh. He’d been humping the sheets all night. You’d heard the squeak of the mattress, and-
“I broke your bed.” He mumbles, not meeting your gaze. “I’ll fix it when- This passes.”
“Clark-“
“Stop saying it like that.”
You blink. Clark takes a deep breath, and looks up at you.
His eyes are shining. You can’t tell if it’s with frustration, or sadness, or that something else.
“Please don’t say my name. Like that, or- At all.” His throat bobs. “It makes everything very hard.”
Your lips twitch, and you glance back to his dick. He sighs.
“Yeah. I know. There are only so many words I can use, you know.”
You laugh softly, despite everything.
Clark grabs the doorframe with a groan. It cracks under his hands, and he won’t stop staring at you,.
“Don’t laugh either.”
“I- I’m sorry-“
“And don’t apologize, or- Or look at me-“
He cuts himself off with a long moan, and you fix your gaze very pointedly on the ceiling.
“Cla-“ You cut yourself off. “Should I call you Superman?”
“No- That- That’s weird-“
“Kal-El?”
“Worse.” He grunts, and you sigh.
“I need to be able to call you something.”
“It would be better if you didn’t talk, actually.”
That makes you glare at him. He winces, face scrunching in apology.
“No, not- Not like that-“
“Not like what-“
“It’s just, when you talk-“
“It’s hard?” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re so mad all of a sudden. Maybe it’s how you haven’t slept in almost two days.
It’s probably that. But also, something needs to break. If Clark just Supermans away after everything, you’re going to kill him.
“Please don’t sat that word.” Clark mumbles, and you shake your head.
“No. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen and give me answers.”
“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea-“
“You don’t get to decide what’s a good idea right now, boner-boy.”
He wrinkles his nose. “That… Doesn’t seem fair.”
“Maybe, but you know what’s also not fair?” You cross your arms over your chest, raising your chin. “Ignoring your best friend for a week, then showing up with a fever and- And magic boner then telling her to shut up!”
“I didn’t tell you to shut up-“
“You said I shouldn’t talk.”
“I said it would be better if you didn’t talk.” He mumbles, staring at the floor. “That’s not the same-“
“Shut up.”
“Sorry.”
The wall cracks further. You wrinkle your nose.
“You better fix the wall, Kent.”
“I will. ‘M sorry-“
“Stop apologizing to me, and just- Just tell me what’s wrong!”
You take a step forward. Clark shrinks back, but doesn’t move away.
“You’re not allowed to- To be mad.” He glances up under his lashes, and lets out another labored sigh. “Be more mad.”
That’s not promising, but your worry outweighs your anger. You nod, watching him expectantly. He closes his eyes, like he can’t bear to see your reaction.
“You know kryptonite?”
You blink. “Of course I know kryptonite, I don’t live under a rock.”
“Right. Well,” he coughs. “There’s, uh- This thing. Called red kryptonite. And it does… Weird things. To me. And other Kryptonians. Which is just Kara- My cousin- I think you’d like her-“
“Clark.”
“Sorry- Sorry.” He groans. You can trace a bead of sweat down his brow.
“Red kryptonite?” You prompt, softer than before.
His cock twitches. You try not think about it.
“I got exposed to some.” He mumbles. “Last weekend. And it never does the same thing twice, but usually it’s something like… Shrinking me. Flipping my personality, or giving me an extra power or curse or- Once it turned me into a fish-“
“It what-“
“I got better.” He says quickly. “But it’s usually immediate. This wasn’t. I- I even hoped I got lucky. That it wasn’t going to effect me at all. Then I got into the office on Monday, and saw you, and…”
He trails off, words hanging in the air.
Saw you.
You activated the red kryptonite in him.
There’s a very reasonable guess to what it’s doing. You still need to hear him say it, before you do something about it.
“What happened when you saw me?” You breathe, and he gives you a pleading look.
Makes a loose gesture to his erection. You bite back a smile. He’s going to need talking into this.
“Clark.” You say gently, and he groans.
“Please don’t make me say it.”
You give him a look, and he turns even redder than before. Stares down at his feet like a scolded child. It’s almost adorable, while also remaining impossibly hot.
“It’s very… Demanding.” He mumbles. “About certain things that I would like to do. And it is very particular about who I need to do it with. But- I can’t ask that of you-“
“Can’t you?”
Your question is quiet. You know he’ll hear you.
And Clark’s head snaps up, his jaw hanging open. He shakes his head.
“You- You can’t mean that-“
“Why not?”
You take a small step forward. Clark grabs the other side of the door way, tracking your every movement with that predatory focus.
“I’d like to.” You murmur. He grunts.
“You don’t have to pity me-“
“It’s not pity.”
He chuckles dryly. “Feels like it. I know you don’t- That’s not how you feel-“
“Who says it’s not how I feel?”
You fix him with a challenging glare, and Clark swallows.
“Uhh… Steve?”
You scoff. “Steve’s been trying to ask me out for three years, of course he’d tell you that.”
Clark shakes his head, his whole body trembling.
You’ve stopped a foot away. More than close enough for him to grab you. But he has to make that final step himself.
“I- I could hurt you.” He says, giving you that puppy look.
You shrug. “I like being hurt a little.”
His cock jumps. He doubles over, and you’re a little worried he’s going to break your whole apartment if he doesn’t move soon.
“Clark.” You whisper, taking a small step forward. “I trust you. And I- I want this. I want you.”
“No, you-“
“Don’t tell me what I feel.”
He shuts his mouth, still giving you that desperate look. You want to soothe him, but you just hold your ground.
“Will it hurt you?” You ask. “If you ignore it?”
He nods, tight and controlled.
You steel yourself, even as your nerves start to buzz.
Not with fear.
With excitement.
“Then use me.” You whisper, holding his darkened gaze. “Please.”
And Clark snaps.
He kisses you so hard you stumble. Knees buckle as Clark’s fevered lips overtake yours, and your startled squeal only lets him kiss you deeper. Your fingers fly out for something to hold onto, and find only the air.
Clark picks you up like you’re made of feathers, and there’s something steady about there being no ground at all.
If you were in your right mind, you’d think something about free fall and having no worry if there’s nowhere for impact. If you can only be caught.
But you’re not in your right mind. Because Clark isn’t kissing you like a kiss.
He’s inhaling you, and it’s already lighting you on fire.
There’s a thick arm wrapped around your waist, the other holding your back. A hand wrapped around your neck, angling him to kiss as deeply as he wants. His tongue presses over yours as he walks himself backwards.
You push back, and he moans. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
Clark’s back hits the wall, his legs sinking slightly as you make out. Nothing in his hold on you falters. If anything, it tightens. Like even with your open mouth moving against each other, there’s no way he can get close enough.
You respond to everything he gives you. Clark squeezes the back of your neck lightly, and you hum happily, smiling into the kiss. He grunts, when you thread your fingers through his hair.
He sinks further down, kisses turning short and desperate. He sucks on your lower lip, nipping softly and hauling you further up his body. Your nails dig into his scalp, and he drops his arm on your waist to grab your ass.
“Clark-“
“So- Sorry-“ He groans, and you can feel him rolling beneath you, trying to get himself back under control. “You’re just- So pretty, and- And soft, and-“
He drops fully to the floor, and you start slightly when he rips his mouth from yours, before burying his face in your neck.
“Smell so good.” He almost whines. “So good.”
You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. You’re the sane one right now. The Clark beneath you is still your Clark, but he’s also a man who’s in a fugue state of lust. Not the mild, usually level headed, noble little dork you love.
Clark whines, when you run your nails gently against the back of his neck. He’s almost shaking, kissing and sucking on your neck like he can’t even help himself. You don’t think he can.
It makes sense why he was avoiding you. This would’ve been quite the HR violation in the copy room.
“It’s okay.” You coo, kissing the side of his head. “You can take what you need, Clark, I told you I want it-“
“You- You can’t-“
“Don’t tell me what I get to want-“
“No, you can’t.” He detaches himself from your neck, going completely still. His grip on your hips is bruising.
You don’t mind at all.
“I’ll hurt you.” He mutters, and you sigh.
“We talked about this-“
“I’ll hurt you.” He squeezes his eyes shut, over pouncing each word, and you stare at him for a moment.
You shift in his lap, trying to peer closer, and he hisses. His fingers dig into your sides, and his head slowly bows against your chest. Licking and kissing softly, as if he can’t physically stand to be that far from you.
And you feel it.
The literal alien cock pressing against your ass. You’d think was a stick if you didn’t know better.
Oh.
Right.
Clark must hear the way your heartbeat picks up, and put it together. He sighs, warm breath tickling over your breasts.
“I need to get you ready.”
You swallow. “I- I’m pretty-“ You can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, and there’s the familiar tingling ache that’s always a good sign. “I feel pretty ready-“
Clark grunts. “Not ready enough.”
“How do you know-“
“Nose.”
“Nose- Oh.” You flush. He can smell your arousal. “But that’s a good thing, right-“
“Not enough.”
He seems reduced to short worded grunts. You’re not faring much better, but there’s also a massive man below you that can’t stop sucking around your tits.
“Can you… Always smell me?” You manage to ask, and he hums.
That’s his agreement hum.
Your jaw drops.
“Are you serious-“
“I can’t help it.”
“You- You could wear nose plugs-“
“No. Like it too much.”
Your thighs squeeze, those deep words shooting straight to your cunt, and Clark groans.
“You- Can’t move-“
“You should move-“
“Won’t hurt you.” He grunts, like he’s making a vow. “Just- Need a second.”
You let out a slow breath, looking up to the ceiling. The idea comes faster than you want to admit, but you’re desperate.
“You were better when you woke up.” You say causally, stroking your fingers through his hair. “Lucid.”
Clark grunts. You smile at the air.
“You came in bed last night.”
He stiffens slightly. “Wet dream.”
“About who?”
You feel the ghost of a smile, against your chest. “You’re very… Mouthy. Like this.”
And you’ve been told that before. But something about the way Clark says it—like something he’s measuring, a note he’s jotting down for a piece—makes you feel all glowy and stupid inside.
“Wow. Mouthy.” You tease. “Not very polite, Clark.”
“There are other words I could’ve used for it.” He mumbles, and you giggle.
“Yeah? Like what?”
Clark draws slowly back, staring at you with those drunken, dark eyes.
“A brat.”
A lot of the fight leaves you, very fast. No ones ever looked at you like that. Like you’re something they want to chew on, carefully and deeply. To leave a mark while keeping every part of you both ruined and intact.
And his voice. Lower than you’ve ever heard, and hoarse with desire. You were already a lot woman. This just seals your fate.
“I should jerk you off.” You blurt.
Clark makes a sound like a wounded animal, and drops his brow against yours.
“You- You can’t just say that-“
“But it will help.” You give him your best, pouty and pleading expression. “You’ll feel better enough to- To get me ready.” You try to keep your voice level, as if you’re not thrilled just to say the words. “And then… More.”
Clark doesn’t answer. He just closes his eyes again, breathing heavily through his mouth. You wait, but you start to get a little worried he didn’t hear.
“Can you please look at me-“
“No.” He grinds out, and you frown. Reach up to cup his face.
“Clark-“
“Don’t ask me to move.” His words are tight. Pushed through his teeth.
You feel his cocks twitch, near your ass.
“Clark.” You make your voice soft. Traced the tensed line of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. He whimpers at the touch, and you smile. “It’s okay.”
“I- I need to get you-“
“I’m going to touch you, okay?”
His throat bobs, but he nods. Short and tight.
Enough.
You scoot back, and Clark lowers his legs at a painfully slow pace you accommodate you. Your ass drags over his dick, and he hisses, rutting up.
“Sorry-“
“It’s okay.” You say quickly, smiling slightly. “Good preview.”
He looks at you in befuddled exasperation. Opens his mouth like he’s going to snap something else out about you being a brat.
You settle against his knees, and don’t give him a chance.
The sound Clark makes when you wrap your hand around his cock is holy. Deep and guttural, like a man already wrecked. You let him sit in your loose grip for a second, watching his chest heave and eyes flutter.
He’s throbbing under your touch. You can barely hold him with the single hand.
You add a second, and squeeze at the base.
Clark makes another one of those beautiful noises, and grabs your wrist.
“Be- Be careful.”
You pause. “Does it not feel-“
“Feels good.” He grunts. “Too good. Gonna- Oh, fuck-“
Your mouth falls open. Clark swore.
You started to stroke his cock, and he swore.
And more. You need more. More of his swears, his sounds, his sweat running down his bare chest and the way he’s moaning your name. You need to see him fall apart, because once he’s back in control—once this massive dildo of a dick is inside you—you’re not going to be able to focus on such things.
You set a quick pace. Skin slapping and hot, unraveling him quickly.
Clark calls your name, his hands slamming back to grab at the walls. You watch in awe as his fingers sink into the wood, creating a slot for him to hold onto.
“Like- Like that- Shit.” He tosses his head back, moaning loud and lewd. “Yeah, baby, oh- Right there-“
He cuts himself off, rolling his hips up into your touch. You squeeze him again, switching your hands so one can thumb at the weeping slit on his head. Pre-cum leaks all over your fingers, and your lean further down.
You want to taste him.
When you slide off his legs—keeping your hands working—Clark says your name in a rough, garbled warning.
“What- What are you-“
You wrap your lips around the tip of him, flicking your tongue where your thumb had been. Clark makes a sound you’ve never heard from anyone before, his free hand flying to grab your neck.
The grip is tight, but painless. You’re in no danger of pain.
There’s something thrilling about how he’s gripping you so possessively. Like a life line.
You drop your hand to play with his balls. Clark bucks up into your mouth, bumping against the back of your throat.
“Sorry- Fucking Christ-“
You moan happily around him, drooling lips pushing down further. Your tongue swirls around him, and you suck, bobbing your head up and down. Trying to make him lose control again.
It doesn’t take long. Not when you reach up to his hand on your neck, and push it down.
“Are you-“
You moan, and Clark gives in.
He fucks your face like it’s a toy. Cock slipping in and out from between your lips, your spit staining with his pre-cum. Tears prick at your eyes, but you dig your nails into his thighs, refusing to be pulled off.
“Look- Look at you- Holy- Holy shit-“
Clark moans your name, and you let your hand drift back his balls. He slams up at the featherlight touch, and the tears start to flow.
“You’re so good at this sweetheart, so- So good-“ Clark moans, hips thrusting to meet every bob of your head. “Your mouth is so warm, and- And soft-“
You suckle lightly, the praise going right to your core. Your ass is sticking in the air, grinding up into nothing as he uses you.
And you can feel how close he is. His balls are tightening under your fingers, his cock twitching and pulsing, and-
Clark yanks you off suddenly, with one last cry of your name. Before you can protest or try to go back down, you see why.
He’s cumming.
And he’s not stopping.
Thick white ropes spurt from his dick, and you stare, transfixed. Every time you think he must be done, more comes. When the geyser finally stops, there’s not a place it hasn’t hit.
Clark lets out a shaky breath. You look up to him with wide eyes. He stares back, licking his lips.
“If you-“
“Do that inside me.”
You speak at the same time again. Clark blinks, leaning back slightly, and you flush.
“I- I mean- Clark-“
He starts to drag you forward, and your words turn into a squeak. Your being manhandled right into his lap, your ass still sticking up in the air and your hands just barely bracing you on the ground.
“I heard you.” He drawls, running a hand over the curve of your ass. “Pretty well, actually.”
His hand drags over your exposed core, and you whimper.
“Don’t- Don’t tease-“
“Trust me.” He mutters darkly. “I won’t.”
Two thick fingers toy at your clit, and you push yourself higher into the air. He knows exactly how to flick that little button, to drive you insane.
“Oh- Oh god-“
“If I had time.” Clark murmurs, almost to himself. “I’d keep you here for the rest of the day. Watch the sweetness drip down your legs,” his fingers trace over your sensitive inner thighs. “Let you make a mess in my lap. Wait ‘till you’re begging for it, then touch you,” one, broad finger rubs around your fluttering hole. “Nice and slow, until you feel what I’m dealin’ with right now.”
You moan, gaping at the floor. Clark gets a southern, Kanas drawl when he’s horny. It makes you clench around nothing, and he chuckles.
“Oh, you like that.” He presses the tip of his finger in, and you whine. “Yeah, I know. Know better than anyone, sweetheart.”
He pushes his hips slightly, forcing your ass higher into the air. There’s a rip, and cold air hits your core, making you shiver. His cock, still so hard, bumps against your tummy right as his finger slips into your cunt.
“Claaaark.” You moan, squeezing tight around him.
You’re rubbing backwards, trying to take him deeper. He splays one hand on your lower back, keeping you from getting what you want while still letting you chase the false hope.
He crooks his finger slightly, twisting it in a circle. You go limp, wrapping your arms around his thigh and pressing your cheek down for support.
“That’s it.” He mutters. “Just seeing what you need, it’s alright. Shit,” he lets out a sharp breath, cock twitching against you. “You’re so wet. I- I gotta-“
You hear it start to possess him, and you can’t be surprised when he pulls the finger out. Still, you twist to whine at him, maybe try to drag his hand back. He’s strong, but you’re horny, and that’s sure to help you somehow.
Instead, you trip on your own hands and collapse back down at the sight before you.
Clark cleaning your arousal off his fingers, eyes closed and face slack like he’s having a fine meal.
You can’t look away from it. It’s the hottest, most lewd thing you’ve ever seen. You whimper when he goes back into for more, dragging two fingers between your pussy lips before returning them to his mouth. He does it over, and over, and over again. Sometimes giving a little attention to your clit, like he’s milking you for more.
You’re a flushed, wiggling mess when he finally pulls his fingers away with a pop. His eyes are wholly black, gleaming with lust and fixed on yours.
There’s nothing left of you but putty, when Clark slowly starts to rub your pussy again. You’re a smeared, wrecked mess that can’t stop grinding back onto his hand, and he smiles down at you.
It’s predatory, but still soft. Exactly what you expect from him now. Pulling out the hair that got stuck in your mouth, all while slowly fingering your cunt.
“Wanted to do that for so long.” He coos, pushing two fingers deep inside of you. “You’d come into the office and start gettin’ wet right next me, I was slobbering like a dog. Thought I’d lose my mind, every single day.”
His fingers go deeper, bumping against your g-spot. You keen, making an almost unearthly sound from your chest. Clark notices it. Of course he does.
“There she is.” He mutters, starting to pump his fingers fast. Pushing against the gummy point over and over, until you’re drooling.
Your head has never been this empty during sex before. But you’ve also never been put over Clark’s lap like this. Fingered into oblivion while his dick pushes into your stomach. You start to push up—he needs attention—but Clark pushes you back down with a grunt.
“Need to be inside you.” He grunts. “Need you ready.”
Well. If he needs it.
It’s easy to relax into the feeling. Clark starting to thumb at your clit, rubbing it back and forth like a bop-it toy. Between that and his fingers, Clark is almost pulling pleasure out of you like a machine. It doesn’t take long for you to feel like you’re close. Your face his presses into his bare leg, your pussy fully pried open and well touched. You can feel the familiar tension inside you, about to burst.
“Clark- Clark-“ You don’t have the strength to twist, so you scratch at his leg. “I- I’m gonna-“
“I know.” He mutters, and fuck, you don’t doubt him. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart. Cum on my hand, let me feel it.”
It only takes a few more moments. Release hits you quickly, and lasts long. Thighs shaking and loud moans escaping your lips as Clark keeps playing with you.
You’re dazed from the orgasm. It’s the strongest you’ve ever felt, and your cunt is still pulsing when Clark’s fingers pull away.
“You’re ready.” He mutters, and you agree with a garbled sound.
He laughs, leaning down to kiss the back of your head as you quiver. He pulls you up into his lap, and you can feel his cock sliding between your folds. Both of your are so slick with everything there’s no friction. The tension in Clark tells you he’s close to going feral again, but his voice is still sweet.
“Just- Stay like that, beautiful.” He kisses the side of your head. “And if it- If anything starts to feel bad, tell me. I’ll stop.”
And you believe him. You know just how much this is affecting him, but you also know he’s Clark. And there isn’t a force on earth that could make him hurt you like that.
“Can you- Can you please say you’ll tell me-“
“I’ll tell you.” It’s barely more than an exhale.
Clark hears it.
“Good. Good girl.” He kisses your neck this time, and you whimper. “Let me- Can’t do it here. Not right.”
You’re not sure what he’s talking about until you’re airborne. Clark tosses you over his shoulder, holding you steady with one arm around your knees, and you blink at the cum and sweat stained floor. You might have to move, after this.
Maybe Clark could let you live with him.
Too fast. And not the thing to worry about right now.
Get fucked stupid, then think about your living situation and relationship status.
That’s a good plan. The best plan.
There really couldn’t be a better one, you decide. Not when Clark starts to rub your clit again, using the full pressure of his palm.
“Keeping her ready.” He rumbles, and you hum. You’re certainly not complaining.
You’re already close to another orgasm, when he lowers you down onto the bed. Your back hits the mattress, and you immediately reach between your thighs, fondling at your pussy hopelessly. Nothing feels as good as Clark’s hands. He might’ve already ruined you forever.
“Don’t do that.”
Those very hands catch your wrists. You stumble over your breath, when you look up at Clark.
He’s back into feral caveman mode. Stroking his cock with one hand, the other squeezing yours gently before setting it down at your side.
“I touch you.” He grunts, and you can’t argue with that.
You lay down, spreading your legs slowly. In offering. Clark makes that guttural sound, his dick somehow looking like it’s gotten harder. You swallow. It’s very hard not to touch yourself with a massive, hulking god standing over you and jerking himself off. For Clark, you’re going to try.
He’s been reduced back to deep noises from his chest and moans of your name, but he’s not making any attempt to move on you. He’s just… Staring.
Stroking his cock, and watching you. Looking between your wet, gaping pussy and flushed face, beating himself into his fist.
He moans, and doubles over. Pumps so fast his hand becomes a blur, and god you’d like him to do that to you later.
His face lands on your inner thigh. Soft stubble grazing the oversensitive area, cold breath pushing against your clit. You grab his hair, back arching off the bed at the taunting pleasure. Clark moans, watching you clench around nothing.
You cry, as his face fully presses into your cunt. It’s right as he finishes himself off, his cum painting the mattress and covering your ankles.
Clark rises back up, and for a second you just stare at each other.
“Didn’t mean to do that.” He rasps, and your lips twitch.
“I liked it.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”
Clark falls back over you, kissing you deep and slow. You call tell that the clear-headed affect of the orgasm is lasting for a shorter and shorter time.
And Clark choses to use it, just to kiss you.
He tests the head of his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to push it against your clit before going back down, and starting to slide slowly in. There’s almost no resistance, and he hums against your lips.
“Goin’ slow.” He mumbles. “While I can.”
You nod. It’s all you can manage.
He feels just as big—if not bigger—than he looked. Never has a cock stretched you so greatly, and so well. The fullness is incomparable, and you’d be worried you couldn’t take it if your pussy wasn’t greedily swallowing him whole.
“That’s it.” Clark groans, pushing in every inch so torturously and amazingly slow. Forcing you to feel every single inch. “There’s you go, just- Just take it- Fuuuck-“
He moans your name, and you kiss him. You want to feel everything he has, vibrating through your chest. Straight into your cunt.
Clark bottoms out, hiding his face in your neck. You blink up at the ceiling, trying to push off more tears. It’s good, unbelievably good, and your body doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Tight.” Clark mumbles against you, and you laugh breathily.
“Big.”
He looks up at you, and for a second, you only see Clark. Your best friend, looking out of you, always kinder than he needs to be.
“’m serious.” He says, low and rough. Like a secret. “When I call you pretty. When I- When I say I want you-“
You kiss him, and Clark melts into you in a second. You can’t stop your smile.
“I know.” You breathe, and he nods.
“Love you.” He pushes in almost an inch deeper, like the words spur him on. “So much.”
You blink, and his eyes widen.
“That’s- Um- I don’t think I meant to- You feel really good and my brain is soupy-“
Kissing to shut him up will only work so many times. You cover his mouth with your hand, every inch of you feeling alive. From his words, his body, every single inch of this glorious man that’s somehow, all yours.
“My brain is soupy too.” You whisper, clenching purposefully around his cock.
Clark grunts, rutting forward. You giggle, and he gives you a dangerous look.
“Very soupy. But,” You beam. “I love you too. And I’m very serious.”
Clark pauses. Smiles into your hand, eyes shining in the dark. You feel a little like your floating. You’d like to be rocketed right up to heaven.
“Make me dumb.” You breathe, and Clark’s shoulders square.
Your hand is knocked away in a second. His mouth attacks yours, and the moment he starts to move, an orgasm is ripped from your very core.
You scream, locking up and clenching around him. Clark moans against your lips, grabbing your knees and pushing them up to your chest. It’s a deep angle, and you can feel every inch of him, sliding in and out of your cunt. His balls slap near your ass, and his mouth hangs open as he stares down at him.
He’s fully gone to the red kryptonites effects. There’s no question, as he bends you in half and starts to fuck you like a doll. But he still doesn’t let his strength slip. You feel completely safe in his hands.
Safe and attended to.
You’ve never fucked a man who makes sure to hit your g-spot so much, and Clark’s barely even lucid right now. But he drills down into it, moaning your name and making those sinful, beautiful sounds.
It’s too much for your poor pussy. Two is a lot of orgasms. Three is your—usual—max, and that’s usually with time between. But Clark isn’t letting up. And you’re getting close again.
“Cla- Clark-“ You whine out, and he fucking growls. “Clark, I’m gonna-“
He makes a deep noise of understanding, and starts to fuck you harder. You cry out, grabbing uselessly at the sheets as the next release gushes from your pussy, flying up your spine like ecstasy.
Clark finds his own release there. With you clenching tight around him, writhing with overwhelmed pleasure and moaning his name like a hymn as you come. He throws his head back and starts to fuck like an animal, roaring your name.
He grabs your jaw, demanding your eyes on his. His thumb presses on your lower lip.
Cockdrunk and empty headed, you open your mouth and start to suck.
It feels even better than you’d thought. At first it’s nothing, just painting your walls and sticking so deep inside you, you think it knocks you into another, tiny orgasm. Then it’s more, spurting out of your pussy as he keeps fucking into you. An obscene fountain, staining your ass and thighs.
Then it’s too much. You’re not sure you can breathe, but the lights dancing on the edge of your vision only add to the euphoria.
Now, it’s everything. You’re full. So full. You never want to be empty again.
And you don’t think Clark would allow that anyway.
Because he’s still fully hard inside of you. And with how he’s staring at you, you don’t think there’s a space of sound mind anymore.
Clark just stares at you, still mindlessly sucking on his thumb and growls.
You giggle as he grabs your hips and flips you onto your stomach. Drags your ass back up into the air and pushes himself back in with a thick moan.
There’s a chance that his cum is transferring some of the sexual stamina onto you. It’s the only possible way you can last this long. Clark fucks into you from behind, kissing up and down your spine as his balls slap against your clit. Your fourth orgasm hits you, and you think you see he stars.
Clark cums again. You don’t know how there’s still possibly space for it, but nature finds a way.
You giggle into the sheets. Clark kisses your shoulder, rutting deeper and deeper into your abused pussy.
He might take your laughter as a challenge. Suddenly you’re being flipped over, and Clark’s impaling you on his dick once more, forcing you to slide down and feel every inch.
It’s a good thing you get giggly when you have good sex.
If he sees it as a challenge, you’re ready to lose, over and over and over again.
On Sunday, Clark fucks you through the afternoon and into the night.
There isn’t a spot in the apartment that doesn’t feel the aftermath. After making you ride him, he clambered over you and held you to his chest, fucking you with just your knees on the bed. After that you ended up on your back, then riding him again, then somehow on the floor. Against the wall. In the doorway, your face pressed against the window, Clark flying and holding you in his lap. By the time the sun was over your head, you were a wordless, dumb mess. Clark had you in a headlock and you were smiling like an idiot, taking his cock over and over again until you think you reshaped each other.
Now, standing in the shower to wash off the everything, you think if you reached down and touched yourself, you’d find Clark completely rearranged your guts to his shape. When you’d looked at him during the soft, quiet cleanup, his cock had certainly looked like you’d molded him to only fit in you.
It’s an oddly romantic thought.
There are lots of those to go around.
Clark’s waiting for you in the living room. He’s been trying to clean, but you don’t think there’s a point.
“I told you I’m going to have to move,” you joke, and he sighs.
“Well, I- I really tried, but-“ He wrinkles his nose. “I think it got in things. When I- Yeah.” He groans. “I can see it.”
“See it-“
“X-ray vision.”
“Oh.” That fun revelation had gotten lost in everything else. It’s going to take some getting used to.
Clark bows his head, almost in shame.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” he mutters.
You shake your head. “It fine-“
“I wanted to-“
“Clark.” You place a hand on his chest, smiling softly. “It’s okay. Really.”
He blinks at you, then relaxes.
“Really?” He asks anyway, and you nod.
“Really.” You nod to the floor. “I can even start apartment hunting right now.”
Clark laughs at that, and you beam.
It’s the same. Even after I love yous and the sex marathon, it’s still just Clark. And you’re more lucky to have that, than anything else.
“You could move in with me.” He suggests quiet and nervous, and your eyes widen.
“I-“
“If it’s too fast, you don’t have to, I- Geez, I haven’t even taken you out on a date yet, never mind-“
“Clark.” You raise your voice, forcing him to quiet down. “I was thinking the same thing earlier.”
He starts slightly. His lips twitch. “You were?”
You nod, and he grins like you handed him the sun.
“It’s not- Maybe too fast-“
“Maybe.” You shrug. “But I- I’ve loved you for years.” You look down to your fingers. “And we kind of lived together before. For work. And you’re my friend, first, so if you think it’s fine-“
Clark pulls your own trick. He grabs your face, and shuts you up with a deep, long kiss. You smile, rising up to meet him, and it’s barely been a day, but it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m gonna do it right, though.” Clark says against your lips. “Take you out. Woo you.”
You laugh. “Bring it on.”
✦End note: sex pollen fics are so fun i feel like im getting a secondary high✦
✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦
waittt i wanna see clark and reader on their first date!! and i know her dress is so freakin beautiful
this made me a little ravenous for first date clark!!
MOONLIGHT — Clark Kent
pairing: clark kent / f!reader. word count: 2.5k content: first date fluff. clark is disgustingly perfect. r wears a dress. kissing.
clark kent masterlist
You worried the hem of your dress enough that you had pulled a thread and snagged the fabric.
“Shoot.” You mumbled to yourself with the skirt pulled between your forefinger and middle to inspect it. (That’s the last time you placed a fast track order from an Instagram Ad again.)
It was a nice dress. Pretty, sat on your figure well. Completely out of your comfort zone but that was the whole point of a first date. And now? Now it had a ladder that—if you weren’t swarmed in nerves—you’d remember to cover with the satchel you brought to cling onto for moral support.
You and your flimsy excuse for a dress stood outside of a tall building, Destiny, Metropolis’ renowned Asian restaurant with five floors to it. Each floor with its own option of cuisine, you know, if you were a picky eater. Now, you hadn’t expressed that to Clark Kent when he had asked you out on a date with a bunch of tissues stuffed under his armpits from the perspiration you had caused him. But, he thought if he gave you five different options; one of them would stick.
There was the risk of it potentially backfiring in his face, because you might sway into the grounds of intimidation and pressure to select a singular floor, and you’d both be left a little frazzled and hungry.
Either way, you showed up.
You pulled your phone from your bag. 6:58PM.
Your eyes then scanned the surroundings around you in order to catch a glimpse of someone with a nervous disposition all neatly wrapped into a six foot four, broad shouldered man. There was no pressure of arriving on time—even when you had arrived fifteen minutes ahead of schedule—as you knew Clark had to wrap up his work schedule, bolt for the Metropolis Subway and make it to your side without it seeming as if he hadn’t broke into a muscle burning sprint to get there.
Stepping back on your heel to allow some post-work grumblers past, you managed to spot the very person you had been thinking about in the flurry of foot traffic. Your neck extended in a meek attempt to get his attention, you raised your hand in the air with a warm smile to match as his blue eyes caught sight of you in the Metropolis hustle and bustle.
Clark perked up in an instant. Shoulders squared, he weaved through the crowd with a few apologies falling from his mouth. He looked down at you and let out a hefty sigh of relief, “You made it.”
“You did say 7PM.” You teased.
“You look—You look beautiful.” Clark used all his restraint to not drag his eyes up and down your body as you thanked him, in a dress that looked as if it had been poured onto you to accentuate your curves. You wouldn’t mind if he did, sort of the point. Aside from feeling good about yourself. Clark blinked a murky thought away and spoke, “Oh—These, uh, these are for you.”
He sheepishly held out a bouquet of flowers that had seen better days. Pretty, in a droopy way.
Clark jumped at the chance to explain his sad excuse for flowers. “They got caught in the doors of the subway, and I didn’t have time to buy another bouquet without making myself late.”
He was endearing.
You beamed and took them from his grasp, “It gives them character. I love them. Thank you.”
Onlookers may have felt nauseous at the scene unfolding, if they cared to take a minute out of their day to observe their surroundings. They’d see two strangers, absolutely besotted by each other, eyes filled with warmth, fingers itching at their sides to have the smallest human connection in the form of pinkies linked, or a big smooch on the lips. (Something Clark had been often caught thinking about at his desk.)
The catch was: this was only the first date.
“Have you ever been to Dynasty?” Clark asked after clearing his throat.
“No. But, I’ve heard good things about General Tso’s chicken.” You shrugged and tried to put as little pressure on Clark for handpicking the place for your first date. Both of you fell into step as you continued, “Have you?”
Clark nodded. “Yeah. I—Well, I actually came here myself the other day to test it out.”
This made you frown in minor confusion.
“Test it out?” You repeated back to him as you reached the door to the building.
“Well, you know. I wanted to make sure it was perfect. For you.” Clark opened the door and gestured for you to walk in first. He offered you an amused smile when you stared at him wide-eyed, “My stomach hurt after the third floor.”
Oh. He tested all five floors for you.
Clark Kent was exceeding all your expectations and it hadn’t even been five minutes of his time spent with you.
After that, Clark responded to everything in the most gentlemanly way possible. Every door had been opened for you, and once you had picked a floor out of the five, Clark’s hand ghosted your back as the server guided you through the rows upon rows of seats to the very back booth, tucked away from the rest of the entourage. He even allowed you to scooch along the plush seat of the booth before he slotted himself next to you, a sudden yelp eliciting from the back of his throat when he almost flipped the table when his knees knocked the underside of it.
You exchanged stories—Clark visibly hanging onto every word you said—you laughed together, shared your food and somewhere in between the main course and dessert, the proximity between the pair of you was closer than ever before. Now, you were entering dangerous territories of never returning to a time before Clark Kent. Something you were OK with never looking back on.
Stomach bursting at the seams, you leant back in the booth comfortably with your eyes willingly closing for a moment. Clark had waved the server as you did so, his head turning to you to admire you in such a tranquil state; a smile splitting on his face, dimples and all, when you peeked an eye open to look at him too.
“I’m in a very vulnerable state right now, Clark Kent.” You joked, hands on your stomach, “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I was just enjoying the view.” Clark retorted so casually you almost got whiplash. He threw you a smug grin and fished his wallet out of the pocket inside his suit jacket as the server approached.
You sat up and began to dig into your own satchel. “I can pay half.”
“No you won’t.” Clark mumbled in a monotonous tone, as if it was common knowledge that your purse was not to leave the confines of your satchel. The transaction went through with a ping and the server bid you both a goodnight, leaving Clark and you to your own devices.
“Thank you. For paying.”
Clark shrugged. “It’s the least I could do when you said yes to going on a date with me.” He stood, his hand outstretched for you to take. “We’ll call that even now.”
You stood and tugged at your dress, taking mind of the ladder at your side and let out a laugh, “Are you comparing me to a three course meal?”
Clark went pink. His tie suddenly victim of a sudden attack of fidgeting fingers as he gawped through the fumble of his words.
You intentionally squeezed past him and the table, bodies flush against each other momentarily before you put space between the both of you with a mischievous glint in your eyes; something that sent Clark internally reeling.
“Relax. I’m kidding.” You reassured, “Do you want ice cream?”
(Clark was positively astonished at your appetite, but then he reminded himself he just had a three course meal, plus your leftovers, and was still starving at the sight of you in that dress.)
He nodded with enthusiasm and it led to the both of you strolling through Metropolis with the sunset replaced with pretty moonlight and an ice cream shared between you.
Clark paid for it after nudging you out of the way of the cashier’s register.
The conversation dipped into a comfortable silence. Neither of you had run out of things to talk about, even if it meant turning to work, but the moment felt right to just bathe in each other’s presence. Clark fed the ice cream on the littlest plastic spoon, into your mouth and you hummed with gratitude; not realising any sort of satisfied noise that came from your mouth had Clark white-knuckled and a little dizzy.
He had counted about ten of those moments throughout the night. Why had he picked food as the first date? It felt like a cruel punishment.
Shaking him from his rather lewd thoughts, you let out a gasp of excitement, finger pointed in front of you. “A photo-booth!”
Clark followed your finger to see a tattered old stall with a velvet curtain.
“You want to go in?”
You scrunched your nose, “Would that be weird? It’s a little weird, right?”
“Not weird.” Clark reaffirmed, “I’ll take some photos with you. You said you like the sentimental value of things like this.”
Alright. Clark Kent was about to be kissed silly.
You wrapped your fingers around his forearm and dragged him to the photo-booth, halting when you yanked the curtain back to reveal a tiny stool with barely any room for just one person. Let alone two. One being enormous in all the right ways.
There was a little deflation in your shoulders that Clark furrow his brow until he saw what you were staring at. With little deliberation—because Clark Kent was seizing the moment—he brushed past your body and sat on the stool that may, or may not have creaked under the weight of his body.
Clark looked up at you, his bottom lip jutted out a little with innocence plastered across his face before he patted his thigh.
Pat, pat.
You blinked at him.
“Are you coming in, or what?”
Unbelievable.
When you took one step forward, Clark’s hand snaked around your hip and guided you into his lap. For stability, you wrapped one arm around his neck, hand twitching on his shoulder as he reached to pull the curtain shut.
His hand remained on the curve of your hip, his own fingertips fiddling with the fabric of your dress as his other hand came to tap on the screen to get the whole thing started.
“Alright.” He mumbled, his hips raised—and you with them—as he pulled out some money to slot into the machine. It gave a mechanical whir and Clark shuffled the both of you in the seat. “What faces should we make?”
Part of your brain was short-circuiting. This wasn’t like you. You were direct, you were the mouse in the game of Cat and Mouse. Mischievous, always one step ahead and here Clark Kent was, the man who tripped over air and flushed a shade of pink whenever you smiled at him; rendering you speechless.
“Um.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, the timer counting down to the first picture being taken, “Just a smiley one. Right?”
“Sure.”
The camera flashed the most obnoxious light in your faces as you both smiled, heads tilted together. The timer reset for the second time and you mulled over your choices, Clark being the one to suggest funny faces.
Flash! Reset.
“OK.” You warmed up, “Let me wear your glasses.”
Clark hesitated, “Oh, uh—” Flash! He groaned, “Oh, sorry, sweetheart.”
You waved it off. Part of you desperate to cling back to the advantage you usually had on Clark’s senses. The timer ticked and you had a lightbulb moment.
You grinned wickedly, fingers curled into the knot of Clark’s pink tie in order to loosen it. Clark took a harsh swallow as you fluttered your lashes at him, his fingers curled into your hip now.
All roads were going to lead to this moment. At some point. You just had to coax it out of its obvious hiding place.
Your nose nudged against Clark’s, your plush lips ghosting his as he licked his own in anticipation. The photo-booth suddenly felt a little smaller, in the best way possible.
“This could be for research purposes.” You whispered and Clark hummed for you to elaborate. “You know. To make sure for any future photos taken, that we look good kissing.”
“Research purposes.” His eyes were set on your lips.
You nodded slowly, “Don’t you journalists enjoy the whole boots on the ground journalism?”
Suddenly, the timer had been forgotten about as Clark pressed his lips against yours in the much anticipated kiss. You both moulded against each other, breaths shallow until the kiss deepened and your heads were swarmed with blind infatuation. When you tugged at the curls at the nape of Clark’s neck, he let out a whimper and you smiled against his lips; feeling rewarded.
He was good. At being a journalist, a good person with good morals, a good date. And, to put the cherry atop of the very tall cake of why Clark Kent was a good person…he was even insanely good at kissing.
You both then realised how easy it was to get lost in each other, and Clark was happy to destroy any map that led him away from you.
Click! Flash!
You pulled away from Clark at the sound of purring from the photo-booth, smiling sweetly as he peppered kisses along your jawline in lieu of your lips.
A strip of black and white photos spat out of the dispenser and you bent at the waist to snatch them for inspection. With your back pressed against Clark’s chest, you held the photos up so he could look at them too. The third photo made you both chuckle, caught in the middle of a plan to wear Clark’s glasses, his eyes widened with a frown at the proposition you had made about removing the glasses from his face.
That was a conversation for another day. A rainy one. Not in a photo-booth. Or in a public setting, preferably.
“These are great.” You stated, admiring the moments captured on your first date. You pointed to the last photo, “Oh! Look, we do look good kissing.”
“That’s a good omen. For future photos.” Clark nodded, his glasses partially fogged from the intense make-out session you had just engaged in.
When you turned to smile at him knowingly, because both of you knew what sort of statement he was making in that brief sentence, Clark returned the smile with a gentle squeeze against your hip, just above the laddered fabric from your anxieties pre-date.
He sniffed, leaning forward to slot more money into the machine as he spoke, “Want to try opposite sides? See if we look good kissing from a different angle.”
It took five more tries for Clark to eventually green light that you looked stupidly good when you kissed.
⤷ ゛cockwarming him while he's in a meeting! ˎˊ˗ ⠀⠀𑣲⋆ mdni
you hummed, your deft fingers playing with the locks of his hair as you shifted ever so slightly. but by the firm tightening of his palm on your hip, you could tell he noticed.
he was in heaven and hell at the same time.
it had all started when he mentioned his afternoon meeting. he'd been complaining about it the whole day, him having to leave the comfort of your bed just to be in a fuckass zoom call with a bunch of corporate bozos.
so, you being the ever doting girlfriend you were, decided to bring the bed to him! so sweet, right? when he first heard your idea, a deep blush bloomed all across his cheeks. aww, he was as red as a tomato at just the thought!
but you knew he could never say no to those pretty puppy eyes, and so - here he was. sitting on his work chair with your tits in his mouth and his dick in your tight cunt.
you turned around to soothe your nerves and confirm that the camera and mic were indeed turned off. he took the opportunity to lick up the column of your neck. you let out a soft moan, and you could feel his cock twitch.
his lips continued his assault on your neck, kissing everywhere he could reach. you rewarded his show of affection with a slow roll of your hips, and he whined beneath you. you could tell he was absolutely gone, his brain was practically oozing out of his ears.
he muffled his face between your soft tits again, and let out a low groan. your hands raked through his hair, and he looked up at you like you hung up the stars in the sky.
— 𝜗𝜚⋆ your cat can’t read the room and trots in anyway because she’s hungry.
the room smells of sweat, sex and love. you don’t know how many times he’s made you come, lost count after the 3rd time. all you can really think about is the weight of his body caging yours, pushing you both deeper into the mattress, the sheets wrap loosely around his legs, yours tight around his waist, locked and refusing to let up.
the sounds of skin slapping echoed the room, rang through your ears loudly, but his pace didn’t falter, if anything it got faster then slowed just enough to have you whining in frustration. his fists, slightly bawled, rest on either side of your hips.
“always feels good when you’re wrapped around my cock, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice raspy and slightly broken, a small chuckle vibrates against your neck when your hand flies up, grabbing the back of his arm tightly. “that’s it, hold onto me, i ain’t going anywhere and neither are you, babygirl.”
true to his word, he doesn’t let you go anywhere, keeps his hard chest practically pinned down against yours, thrusts slow and rhythmic. your nails sink into this skin of his arms deeper each time he slides back in, cock stretching you out perfectly. “just like that,” you whine, hands slipping from his arms to his sides, nails raking up and down the skin there before making their way back to his arms; where you cling tighter. “love you.” you murmur softly into his shoulder when he presses his face deeper into the crook of your neck.
“love you, honey,” he pants, grinding his hips against yours slowly to the point your lips part in a silent moan and the arch of your back has your tits pressing harder to hist chest. an action he welcomes happily because he’s groaning and growling into the small space of your neck, fisting at the sheets when your cunt clenches around his cock. “my angel, could stay like this forever, so warm, wanna stay buried in you for the rest of my life.”
neither of you hear the slight creaking sound of the door at first, completely absorbed in each other too much to care, too in tune with meeting each others thrusts to feel the subtle chill soaking in and then suddenly when it’s only the soft sounds of both your moans, a loud meow rips through the entire room.
his body stills completely at the sound, slowly lifts his head from your neck, you see his hooded first but you can also see the hint of confusion lingering beneath as he looks down at you. “the hell?” he mutters hoarsley, turning his head so slow you’d think he’s broken.
sitting completely still in the bedroom doorway is your cat, tail swishing behind her with a slowness that only happens with two things. one, she’s doing it to spite you both. or two, she’s hungry and demands all the attention in the world. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he scoffs, albiet no anger or annoyance behind his words.
your cat stares, almost like she knows what she’s ruining and does it all over again. meow!
his eyes narrow at the second meow, and his hands finally move from beside your hips to your stomach, dragging them down slowly before sighing in defeat. “okay, she’s not kidding.”
“no, she isn’t.”
“i fed her before we even came in here!” he huffs but makes no effort to move. hell, he hasn’t even made a single move to pull out of you either.
“that was before, and now she’s hungry again, so go on,” you pause, grinning up at him smugly. “time to feed your daughter, daddy.” you teased, giggling with a choked gasp at the way his cock twitches inside you. “oh?”
his eyes widen slightly at your seductive tone and shakes his head quickly “nope, no, we aren’t doing this. m’gonna go feed her like the royal diva pain demands.”
your giggle doesn’t last long, a warm melodic sound turns into a whine when he’s pulling his cock out slowly with a wet pop! your walls flutter around nothing while your eyes, despite being hooded and dazed, followed him. lingered on the firm muscle of his ass when he slipped off the bed, before widening, a shy smile on your face, at the sight of his cock despite seeing it so many times. still hard, angry red, slick with your wetness.
“nothing you haven’t seen before, sweetheart,” he catches that look on your face while tugging on a pair of boxers, the fabric rubbing against him causes him to hiss. “i’ll be back soon, honey, don’t miss me too much.”
by the time he slipped out of the door, leaving you alone, aside from the muttered words coming from him in the kitchen, you slumped back down onto the bed, chest still heaving but you didn’t move to run after him. your thighs still tingled, twitched at the reminder of him being inside of you not that long ago.
sighing softly, you turned onto your side, curling up and smiling to yourself into the pillow. the sounds of his muttering and sighs getting louder. and you can’t help the laughter that leaves your lips at his sudden panicked shout.
“no! stop! we use the litterbox not the floor, oh my god! she’s gonna hate me, use the litterbox please!, honey, the litterbox, right there! oh you hate me so much that you want her to hate me too huh?”
SNEAK PEAK !! you have far too much money in your hands and, as luck would have it, you are in dire need of a bodyguard. you meet sukuna on the train and one glance at his (to say the least) ginormous stature and intimidating expression, you knew he was perfect for the job!
celeb!reader x bodyguard!sukuna
RINA SAYS !! a little treat as a thank you for 1k!! i want to do a little celebration/special for 1k but im not too sure what... if u guys have any reqs lmk! w/c: 3.3k not proofread!
TAGLIST !! @cttelina @bunbun812 @oksukuna @kriitee @bleepybl00p @sailormarsinanotherlife @sukusdoll @snowstriper101
CREDITS !! pictures from pinterest! sukuna art from @/jadore_lilly_ on tt! divider from @/chrissiren
if it was up to your manager, you would never see the light of day again if you didn't have a full team of people to follow help you around. and you loved them, truly! they were always so quick to help and they really did help when the paparazzi was too much and starting to get a little physical. but sometimes, all you wanted was to go out, get some coffee, and do it alone.
but you suppose that now you regret doing so because of course, the one time you sneak away without your group of security guys, the paparazzi had to find you. at first, you indulged in them a little; signed some things and took pictures but after a while, you were already checked out. it was a miracle you were even able to get past them and down into the subway. you jumped as many steps as you could and turned around to be sure you had lost them. you could still hear some footsteps chasing after you so you pulled your hoodie up and your glasses on, trying to act as normal as you could for someone who just ran two blocks and jumped down three flights of stairs. you could still hear the footsteps so you planned on getting onto the first car that opened its doors. when the doors slid open to reveal a completely empty car, you grimace and move to the next one. that's when you bump into him.
"oh sorry! i didn't see you-" by the time your sight had adjusted to the bulking man in front of you, the words die on your tongue; how could you have not seen this giant of a man? how tall was this guy! he looked like the personification of muscles. he seems to have read your mind and quirks a brow before muttering something along the lines of "no big deal". he takes one last look at you before moving to get on the subway car. the automated voice warning you of the doors coming to a close woke you from your stupor and you quickly follow into the car. this one was a little crowded but you would rather this than take your chances on that empty cart of doom. some people started moving around and it caused you to get shoved around a little too. the pushing stops when a figure steps between you the person moving around, you look up to see sukuna. he simply looks down at you and then goes to look at the chart of the next stops at the top of the cart.
your lips pull up into a sly grin, "are you employed anywhere?"
he meets your gaze once more, "what are you talking about?"
"how much?"
"ha?"
"how much money for you to work for me; name your price!"
❀*ੈ𑁍༘⋆
sometimes, sukuna regrets taking this job. but if nothing else, he had to admit the money was good. meeting you on that subway car felt unreal, even looking back on it now. since then, he's come to work for you as a bodyguard. sure, he knew about you before— after all, you were some bigshot in the hollywood scene. he recognized you from work in the hit netflix show "make my heart race" and even your voice acting in some of his kid brothers' favorite shows. he's seen you in commercials and some movies and you were easily an A-tier celeb, maybe even S. but now that he's come to work for you, he sees you more as a pain in his ass than some famous star. looking back on it, he wishes he told you a bigger amount when he said he would work for you on that train.
"how much money for you to work for me; name your price!" you say, your voice just barely being covered up by the chatter and music on the train.
the first thing that went through sukuna's mind was that you were probably insane. but there was a certain glint in your eyes that old him otherwise. his mind immediately goes to his kid brothers, choso and yuji. their old man jin died a couple years ago but he left a fair bit of money after them. with that being said, jin also left his kids to sukuna, meaning sukuna had two more mouths to feed. he tells you he wants a grand on the spot and you practically light up.
"deal!"
he's been working for you for almost a year now but you treat him as if you've known him your whole life. he remembers when you brought him for an official job interview (even though you already gave it to him) and your manager, nami, nearly fainted at the sight of the man.
"where on earth did you find this- this ruffian?" she cries out. "please don't tell me you broke out some death row convict."
sukuna scoffs at the sight of the woman cowering in front of him as you stand between them. "don't be so rude, nami! he's literally standing right here."
"yes, exactly," nami says. she then quickly goes to the side and grabs your main photographer, usopp, and uses him as a shield between her and sukuna. usopp is practically crying at this point and he is just as terrified as nami, if not more. "why is he standing right there? take him back to whatever hell hole you found him in!"
"nami!" usopp chastises, "don't say things like that. he might.. he might eat us!" the two cry out at the same time and hold each other in fear.
you sigh and hear sukuna do the same behind you. he scratches the back of his neck, "listen, if you're just here to waste my time then i'm leaving-"
"no!" you say once you turn around to face him. "don't mind those two, they're scared of anything taller than them and with double their muscle mass." sukuna's face tells you he still isn't convinced and with the way he keeps glancing at the door, you realize that you have to convince him. you dig into your purse, grab your wallet and take out a good handful of bills and hold them in front of sukuna. "i can pay you!"
sukuna stares blankly at the wad of cash you hold, "that's probably around thirty-two bucks." nami and usopp snicker behind you so you quickly turn and throw the crumpled up bills at them in anger. when you turn back to face sukuna, you say, "on the train you said you wanted a grand on the spot."
"and yet you show me thirty dollars," sukuna sighs. from behind you, he hears nami go, "it was twenty-seven dollars!" usopp then adds, "and a half! she has a ripped dollar bill for some reason, what the-"
"i obviously have more!" you groan. "the job is easy money for a guy like you, man."
"and what exactly does 'a guy like me' entail?" sukuna asks with a raised brow.
you shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "i mean, just look at you; i don't think you've lost many fights in your days."
"i'm not a loser, sweetheart," sukuna replies.
"exactly! and i don't hire losers," you wink. you then add on "other than those two, i guess" as you point behind you to nami and usopp.
to this day, he has no idea what possessed him to go through with any of this. the first impressions were abysmal to say the least. he went from getting called a prison escapee to being your main body guard in just a little less than a year. as he endures long hours of waiting for you to finish up shooting for movies to even longer hours of press tours, he keeps telling himself that this was all for his kid brothers. but over time, he couldn't help but think he was no longer just enduring your company but maybe even enjoying it. of course, he would never let you know that.
"ryo!" you call from inside your dressing room. you don't wait for a response from him to continue, "what time is it?"
"ten minutes from the time we're supposed to leave," he says. "so hurry it up in there. your idiot driver is probably going to get lost on the way there too."
"don't be rude! he's still a little new," you say from the other side of the door. "you were just as bad when you started out!"
"my job isn't rocket science, pretty. wasn't that awful at it."
"and yet you had so much trouble getting my morning drinks for me!"
sukuna mutters under his breath, "maybe because your orders sounded like tongue twisters from the heian era."
"i heard that, asshole!"
"just hurry up in there!"
even from where he stood outside, sukuna could still hear you mutter something before he heard some clatter coming from inside. probably you knocking something off of your makeup table since you yell "fuck!" shortly after. he hears your footsteps approach and pushes his body off of the wall he was leaning on to face you for when the door swung open.
in all the time he has worked for you, he still isn't quite used to your beauty. of course, it was a given that you were gorgeous, you had contracts and magazines with your face on them. but the photos online and printed never did you enough justice. something about your essence in person was so breathtaking for sukuna. and while it was never visible on his face, the way his throat bobbed and how his eyes looked you up and down told you more than enough.
you were supposed to be heading to the rockefellar plaza by now to film your guest appearance on jimmy fallon's show. you cleaned up nice to say the least and your outfit would be complete had it not been for the fact that you only had one of your heels on. you fumble with the other one in your hands before sukuna takes it out of your hands and drops to one knee to put it on. for all his talk about being this intimidating bodyguard, his touch on your calf was gentle; like he believed you would shatter if he put any more pressure on you. you can hear him grumble about the hassle of this but you know he would never mean it. even when he does get your heel on, his touch lingers just long enough for your breath to hitch. before you could over think it, he gets back up and stands at his full height, already turning to leave.
"let's go," he says. "we'll be late if we stay any longer."
after the show, sukuna could tell that you had fun. you didn't stop laughing once with jimmy, the man was truly charismatic and knew how to host. but once it was all over and you were heading back to the car (after taking some selfies with jimmy), sukuna could tell you were tired. it was subtle the way your steps would falter every now and then, the way you stifled your yawns, and the way you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to blink away the fatigue. he opened the car door for you and went in on the other side. the car hummed to life and it was a smooth drive back to your place.
"you can tell him to drop you off at your place, y'know," you offer, moving to remove your shoes.
sukuna shrugs, "i'll see u get home safe and take myself home."
"it's not like there's some assassin," you giggle. once you had both of your shoes off, you sigh in relief. you aren't surprised when sukuna pulls your feet up into his lap and starts massaging the sore muscle. you were now even more comfortable with your legs extended and his hands, surprisingly soft despite the work behind them, massaging you.
"just doing what i get paid for," sukuna says, his ministrations mindless now.
"i don't remember putting 'masseuse' on the job requirements?"
"you didn't tell me a lot of things about what this job entails," sukuna retorts. "still, i gotta deal with your shit regardless."
you lightly kick his thigh with the foot he wasn't massaging. "don't be rude. you know you love me," you tease. sukuna only hums in response but he had a small smile on his face.
between sukuna's massage and the low music of the drive, you don't remember when you fell asleep. you didn't wake up when the car came to a stop and you didn't wake up when sukuna carried you out of the car. with one arm under your shoulders and the other supporting your legs, he carried you princess style as your driver, zoro, opened the door to your place for him.
"she's knocked out, huh?" zoro says. "want me to take care of this?"
sukuna shakes his head, "nah, i'll just put her to bed and call it a night. i know the rest of them are waiting on you for drinks."
"alright, only if you're sure," zoro responds. "call me if you need anything, man."
now that the two of you were alone, sukuna could hear light snoring come from you. he rolled his eyes and moved to your room. he was about to put you on your bed until he hears your voice in his head. he remembers the first time he sat on your bed with his suit on. he was still freshly starting out as your bodyguard but the two of you became close enough to be considered close friends.
"off the bed!" you exclaimed. "no outside clothes on my bed, you are disgusting."
"disgusting is a little much," sukuna mutters. nevertheless, he gets off the bed and stands with his hands in his pockets. he watches you leave in a huff into your walk in closet. when you emerge again with a pair of clothes; sukuna takes note that they were far too big to be one of yours. so he goes to assume it was an ex's or something. for a reason he wasn't sure of, his eye twitches at the thought.
you throw the clothes at his face but he catches them effortlessly. "i had a feeling the shoot would go on for too long today, so i got you some spare pajamas."
at least it wasn't some ex boyfriend's, sukuna thinks to himself. "i don't mind driving back to my place."
"i do," you insist. "it's way too late and we have to be up early tomorrow anyways. save your gas, ryo. i have a spare bedroom anyways."
since then, it's been a common occurrence for him to stay the night. that also meant that by now, he had practically memorized your entire night routine. he puts you on the chair next to your vanity table despite your whines from having to switch positions. even in her sleep, she's still so needy, he thinks to himself. he opens the drawer and gets some makeup wipes. when you move to rub your eye with your knuckle, he grabs your wrist gently, "let me. you'll just smudge it." it was always a fifty/fifty on whether or not you would stay asleep whenever the night ended like this. regardless, you always proved to be difficult.
he gently swipes it over your face and your face scrunches up and you groan even still half unconscious. "stop squirming," sukuna scolds lightly. "you'll cry in the morning if you breakout because i didn't take your makeup off." you grumble something incoherent as you open your eyes into a squint. "i don't get paid enough for this," sukuna mutters jokingly.
"i could fire you, ya know?"
"you would never. you love me too much," sukuna grins, throwing your words right back at your face.
"whatever. just don't forget my-"
"moisturizer with niacinamide, yeah i got it," he finishes for you. the makeup wipe drags gently across your skin. he knows in the morning that you'll complain that he didn't use a proper cleanser but that was a battle for another day. once the makeup is removed from your face, he completes the rest of your routine. your vitamin c serum, niacinamide moisturizer, and finishing off with lip balm. he crouches in front of you, studying your face. you were still half asleep, head bobbing ever so slightly. this was the version of you that belonged only to him. the version without makeup since he believed you never needed it anyways. you were beautiful regardless in his eyes. "don't go anywhere," he mutters as he stands up. he heads to your closet and gets the first shirt he could find. it just so happened to be one of his. maybe before he would have wondered how his shirt got in your closet but now he knows better; you were infamous for stealing his clothes since you claimed they were always "comfier".
he walks back to you to find that your head had no drooped to the side. without trying to wake you again, he maneuvers your arms out of the dress. he thanks the gods that nami had chosen something easy to slip off. just before he slides the dress completely down, he turns his head to the side and shuts his eyes. in all the nights he's done this, it's become second nature. take off the dress, put the shirt on, remove the bra, then done. dignity preserved and you were still asleep. he carries you in his arms once more and tucks you under the comforters of your bed. he brushes the hair out of your face and was about to leave until your arm grabs the sleeve of his dress shirt. your eyes stay closed and he honestly would have thought you were possessed until you spoke up. it was quiet enough to where sukuna almost thought he was hearing things and his mind was playing tricks on his heart.
"stay."
sukuna knows he should just leave; that he should get changed and go to the spare bedroom. sleeping in the same bed as his client was far from professional. he knows that. so he doesn't understand why his body moved on its own. he carefully takes your hand off of him and puts it back onto the bed. he heads to the spare bedroom and gets changed into a pair of sweatpants he left at your place. but instead of getting into the bed, he leaves and goes back to your room. he finds you asleep and he wonders what possessed him to even come back. but when he sinks into your bed cautiously and you instinctively move towards him, he knows why. he knows that the feelings in his chest weren't just admiration and respect and it was certainly not professional for a bodyguard. but in this moment, he can't bring himself to care.
you snuggle into his side, using his arm as a pillow. sukuna stays awake a little longer; watching and listening to you to make sure you were comfortable and safe. eventually, he goes to press a kiss on your forehead. the peck is quick but just enough to leave him wanting more. when he does fall asleep, he falls asleep with you in his arms and a dream of your love.
kinda thinking of making this into a little series because i have other scenarios i want to do with this couple!!
You had been trying to tell Sukuna for three days. Not because you thought he’d be angry, but because every time you looked at him, the words got stuck in your throat. It felt strange saying it out loud. Sukuna wasn’t a normal man. Nothing about your life with him was normal. The idea of him being a father still sounded unreal even in your own head.
It didn’t help that he kept disappearing for hours dealing with clan matters and coming back irritated and covered in blood like usual. That evening, he was sitting near the open doors of his room while two servants fixed the torn sleeve of his robe. One of them looked terrified the entire time. You stood there quietly until Sukuna finally looked up at you. “What?” “Nothing.” “Hm.” He already knew something was wrong. You could tell by the way he dismissed the servants without looking away from you.
The second they left, the room went quiet. “You’ve been hovering around me all day,” he said. “Speak.” You crossed your arms immediately. “You make everything sound hostile.” “Because you’re stalling.” You hated that he was right. Sukuna watched you walk closer, waiting with that impatient look on his face, fingers tapping once against his knee before stopping when you finally spoke. “I’m pregnant.”
The tapping stopped completely. Sukuna stared at you for a second like he was making sure he heard correctly. “You’re certain?” “Yes.” Another pause. Then he leaned back slightly and looked at you again, slower this time. Not shocked exactly. Just caught off guard. “You hid this from me?” “I found out recently.” “How recently?” “A few weeks.” His brows pulled together immediately. “And you waited weeks to tell me?” You frowned. “I was trying to find a good moment.” “There’s no such thing.” “That’s easy for you to say.”
He exhaled through his nose, still staring at you in that intense way that always made you nervous. Then his eyes dropped briefly to your stomach before looking back at your face. “You’re frightened,” he said. “I’m not frightened.” “You are.” “I just didn’t know how you’d react.” That seemed to annoy him a little. Sukuna stood up and walked over until he was right in front of you. “Why would I react badly?” “You hate noise. You hate people touching your things. You threatened a servant for breathing too loudly last week.” “He was irritating.” “You see my point.”
That actually made him laugh once. Short and low. “You think a child of mine will irritate me?” “I think your child will probably bite people.” “Hn. Better than crying all day.” You snorted before you could stop yourself, and some of the tension finally disappeared. Sukuna looked calmer after that too. Still serious, but not distant. One of his hands rested against your waist, pulling you a little closer while he looked down at you. “You should’ve told me sooner,” he muttered. “You’re not angry?” “No.” “Not even a little?” He looked genuinely confused now. “You’re my wife.”
Like that explained everything. Honestly, with Sukuna, it kind of did.
For a moment neither of you said anything. The evening air moved through the open doors, and somewhere outside you could hear servants talking quietly in another part of the estate. Then Sukuna’s hand moved from your waist to your stomach, resting there carefully. The movement was so unusual coming from him that you immediately looked up. He noticed. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Surprised.” “You are being surprisingly normal about this.” “I kill sorcerers, not my own family.” “That’s not exactly comforting.” “Hm.”
You smiled despite yourself. A few seconds later, Sukuna glanced down at you again. “If it’s a boy, the clans are going to become unbearable.” “And if it’s a girl?” His expression flattened instantly. “That’s worse.” You laughed immediately. “Why?” “Because then I’ll have to deal with men looking at her.” “You’re already acting possessive over someone that doesn’t even exist yet.” “She exists.”
You went quiet after that. Sukuna noticed immediately, of course. He always noticed things when it came to you. His thumb brushed against your side once before he spoke again. “You’re overthinking.” “I know.” “You’ll be fine.” The way he said it was simple. Certain. Like there wasn’t even another possibility. And somehow that was enough to make the nervousness in your chest finally settle.
streetfighter!toji always come running back to you(part 1ish?)
your sitting in your living room the streets are finally quiet the loud city noise has died down.
your wearing cute grey shorts, with a black hoodie. tojis hoodie that he “forgot” but you know he left it there on purpose so you can always remember him.
then you suddenly hear knocking on your door, heavy and quick. you sigh, grabbing a knife and putting it in your pocket just in case.
you slowly and quietly walk up to the door has the knocking gets louder and louder. “excuse me-“ you slam the door open to see your ex boyfriend toji with his head down and his fist balled up against his sides.
“did i wake you? I’m sorry ma i just need—“
he looks up and you see his face, his eye is almost black, his cheek is puffy his lip is spilt and bleeding.. what the hell.. “shut up and come inside.” you open the door and move out the way. “couch, now.”
he puts his head back down walking to the couch as instructed. “you know how to clean a wound, mhm?” he chuckles as he sits down, you roll your eyes walking in front of him, you slap his arm and he winces. “want me to inflict wounds instead?” you cross your arms. “you know I fixed all were wounds when we were-“ you pause
you open a drawer grabbing a medkit then you sit down next to toji.
“tell me what happened from the top” he balls his fist, again. “listen before.. you get mad I didn’t know who else to call, y…you know I would’ve have—“
“i said explain, not apologize.” he sighs and frowns “you used to make me feel whole, like the human i am yeah?.. don’t you ever think about me? don’t you ever wonder if we’re soulmates? ma, I promise I’ve tried to move on.. but you still, haunt me.” he takes your hand.
“i.. fought some random guy, the same one from that night you left me.” he clears his throat with a mumble “thought it was his fault, bring us back together maybe.”
“toji you know—“ “I know I know, anyway fought him ‘n his punk ass jumped me.” he scoffs, looking away with a wince as you put alcohol on his cuts. “sorry” “’s fine doll”
“sorry, its pink” you put a bandaid on his cheek. “as i said ma, ‘s fine, do whatever you please to me.” his scar on his lip curling into a smirk. “don’t make me kick you out” “you wouldn’t, love me too much” you scoff a laugh “your too confident for your own good ji.”
he leans forward “say you don’t love me then, and I’ll leave, for good” his eyes narrow, his playfulness is gone, replaced with a soft weariness.
“i..” you hesitate. “get up” you cross your arms. “huh?” “your not deaf, get up and leave” “just listen to me” “no! I shouldn’t even have let you in at all! y—you’re toxic we’re toxic for each—“
he cups your face in his hands and kisses you, desperately not sexual just.. slow and passionate. like how he used to kiss you after or during arguments, you try and pull back but you physically can’t find it in yourself to.
he pulls back and pecks the corner of your lip. “you couldn’t even pull back from a kiss, pathetic.” he grins ear to ear. “missed ya lips—“ THAWACK you landed a hard slap to his cheek.
“did— did you just?” you cross your arms. “yes, now get out toji—“ “that’s it.” he stands up quickly and lifts you by your waist pinning you to the closet wall. “hey put me down!” you try to wiggle out of his grip but he’s bigger and taller then you.
you sigh, giving up “say sorry, the fuck you slappin me for?” you look away. “m’not saying sorry to you, you should be saying sorry to me for leaving me alone all those nights we were together toji, i love you and.. and I hate that i still love you so much!” tears fall down your cheeks, your voice shaky.
“but i miss you, the nights you’d come home early and we’d eat unhealthy and cuddle.. your stupid remarks.” you sniffle, your head flops down as he still holds you up. with a sigh he sets you down and rubs your waist.
“your right, I’m sorry babydoll” he wipes your tears and kisses your eye. “im so sorry” “what” “i said m’sorry doll, forgive me let me make it up to you.” he tightens his grip on your waist and pulls you closer to him.
you look away and frown “I can’t forgive you ji, your just gonna do the same thing over again, and I can’t handle it” “i promise you, I know you hate me right now baby, but if I do it again punch me as soon as i step in the house, since I’ve been gone i fixed my schedule I get off the same time as you everyday.. 8pm right?..”
toji never talks this much, so you can assume there is at least some truth in his words. “n/n?…” you put your face in his chest wiping your tears. “doll, answer me” he rubs the top of your head and with a kiss he mumbles. “missed this too..” “i forgive you”
“really?” “doesn’t mean we’re together again, you can come over sometimes but—“ he kisses the top of your head again and wipes your face. “ill earn your love again, promise.”
not in the sense that he is dumb, or unintelligent. far from it.
more in the…emotional sense.
he loved to piss people off. he loved to start arguments and he loved to win fist fights.
but pissing you off?
wouldn’t exactly be on his top ten recommended things to do.
he was is a dickhead that doesn’t think he words through and instead of admitting that…he makes things worse.
first, he didn’t acknowledge you…entirely just huffing and puffing when you only spoke to him when necessary.
fine.
it’s only been about a week of the unspoken but very outspoken beef between you two and knowing he had nothing to fix the mess and the hurtful words that he caused.
sukuna did what anyone would do.
he tried to spend more time with you of course!
so when the pre school was preparing for the annual aquarium trip…sukuna may or may not have filled out a form for you while he did his own.
and when you picked up junpei a few days later?
oh the daycare director (a step under yaga) was oh so greatful you offered to help when they were so short handed and most guardians were busy!
you couldn’t say no. not then.
not with her smiling at you so gratefully and your son beamed that you were able to get time off for the trip!
so you didn’t.
you smiled tightly patting your son’s back as the director jabbered on, even though your eyes for the first time in days, landed on sukuna with an icy glare.
so now here he was at the aquarium standing next to you in a very unusual and albeit uncomfortable silence while yuuji and junpei jumped up and down while waiting to get in line.
this was his chance! he could make amends right his wrongs, and maybe ask you on a date.
but his rejection came in a tall, handsome case of a 6’4 (idk his actual height ok sue me) dashing shiu as he walked behind megumi towards the pre schoolers.
“ah! mr fushiguro told me megumi’s uncle would be accompanying him today, you’re mister…?”
“shiu. kong shiu.”
“okay, great!”
the man stalked over to where you were, your face gaining a bright smile as he basically snugged you onto his side.
“hi pretty,” his eyes drifted further left, “sukuna.”
ah so he can remember names.
and in they went to the aquarium.
it was bad enough you didn’t speak to sukuna.
but it was worse that shiu was able to pull small huffs and laughs as you followed the bungle of kids through the big open space.
and it down right sinful that sukuna had to witness all of it. and he couldn’t even stop it since it wasn’t his place and the damn teacher kept him glued to her side.
as the past few days went he didn’t get to say much to you, just catching small glances here and there to your face, your pretty outfit and your glowing smile as you talked to your son.
he did however, get to hold your bag for a second when you bent down to help your son tie his shoe!
a win is a win okay…
going off into smaller groups junpei, yuuji and megumi jumped off to the large glass opening to watch the fish swim above them.
“wowww”
“mommy look!”
“i see baby,” you giggled eyes moving around sukuna on instinct as you looked for a particular man.
“where did he run off to?”
you pursued your lips finally meeting his intense red eyes as you sighed shaking your head, “i don’t know. third time he did this today.”
“heh, wel—”
“mommy! mommy!,” you son thankfully interrupted, “i want to go closer!”
you smiled at him, picking him up on your hip to the glass, “this better baby?”
“noooo,” he whined his hands grabbing up to the glass again, “you’re short.”
“hey!”
“i can help.”
two rough tatted hands grabbed junpei out your arms and pulled him up to his shoulders. the boys eyes grew wide as his mouth dropped open, in awe at the sting ray passing above him.
“so cool!”
you grasped your son’s leg as he started to flap in excitement, eyes meeting sukuna’s again as he gazed down at you almost softly.
“well…thank you again ryoumen.”
“for our family.”
is what he would’ve said. maybe what he really should have said.
but for one it was goofy and two shiu appeared again rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t missing in action away from his ‘nephew’ that was in his care.
but as expected your attention was a instantly captured again, just as yuuji and megumi were pulling at sukuna for a turn next.
“me! me!”
“nooo! me!”
“alright—alright geez squirt,” he grunted bending to grab them, “i got two shoulders y’know.”
damnit.
you did however notice how he stalled as he observed you turn away to listen to shiu’s excuse.
that’s how it was.
but god sukuna wanted to fix it. so he would need a small intervention with the name of yuuji and megumi—who reluctantly agreed to this—(nobara called him old and stinky so she’s out!)
first, he had to get rid of the that teacher.
whether she had a crush on him or really cause sukuna’s presence scared the staff enough to give the kids extra perks at the cut off areas…we will never know!
but he needed her to GO ASAP.
and he needed shiu distracted but not gone since that would steal your attention away from him.
that’s where the gremlins came in, megumi the usually quiet boy made a scene clobbering until he made enough noise his uncle sighed, pulling his attention away from you to the boy.
“i want ice cream!”
“you didn’t eat lunch yet.”
“okay i want to see the stinkray.”
“you just saw them when i was on the phone.”
“okay well,” the boy scrunched his face in immense concentration, finger itching his chin before he looked back at his uncle, “i have to shit.”
the sharp gasp that came from the other volunteers, and the sniffled snort from you was enough for shiu to grind his teeth together and sheepishly try to save the last of his…dignity?….sanity? maybe both honestly.
okay. step one COMPLETE!
though sukuna did owe the boy two new plushies and a six month load of dinosaur gummies, toji will kill him for, it was worth it.
now for yuuji, oh goodness…yuuji.
sukuna whipped around looking for the next short tuft of pink hair… he’s gone.
that wasn’t the plan.
“where’s yuuji?”
“yuuji?”, you whipped around counting the heads, “he was just right here.”
fucking great. the little shit was gone!
and now even thirty five minutes later and a few scattered volunteers and chaperones…yuuji was still missing.
“what the fuck?”, sukuna ran his head through his slick hair, breathing deeply as he looked at a display of fish again.
well the boy can swim, maybe he wanted a little dive? sukuna was supposed to take him to the pool two weeks ago.
this cannot be happening.
“ryoumen…”
what the fuck would jin say? a missing posters picture for his son plastered all over the city would truly make the man find another reason to call sukuna a fuckup.
his father? oh god, he might even take yuuji, send him to boarding school or collapse on the drive back from snatching him.
where could he have gone?
what can he do?
what if he—
“ryo..”, your calm voice broke through his thoughts.
your warm hands rubbing soothing circles on his back that had him melting in no time, as he spinned around to your concerned eyes.
“don’t worry…”, you sighed, “he probably just saw something cool and wondered off, yeah?”
“i don’t know. he could have been snatched..he is kinda cute.”
“don’t you remember you pay for our life360,” you giggled lightly, one hand still resting on his chest in familiarity as you fished out your phone.
“see”, you said turning the screen to him, “he’s still at the aquarium. i’m right here and here’s junpei, here’s you, here’s megumi…and toji’s is off.”
sukuna snorted watching the black bubble around toji’s name, “figures.”
“well,” your hand coming back and landing on his chest as you tapped your fingers, “he’s still here and we’re not leaving without him.”
you both paused for a moment, your soft hands sat still rubbing soft circles around his ribs, brining him back down to earth.
“i didn’t mean it, ahem— like that.”
“what?”, your eyebrows scrunched as you observed the now sheepish pink haired man scratch his neck.
“you’re not a family hopper or whatever the fuck. it was mean…”
“you were jealous…you mean.”
“something like that,” he tsked, straightening back to your face, “either way it was uncalled for. you and junpei are always welcome…yuuji loves you guys.”
“ah it’s yuuji and not you,” you tilted your head at him.
“me and yuuji are a package deal…”, his hand rested on your hip as his eyes drifted around your face, “won’t happen again.”
“better not, you fucker!”, you whispered as you smiled at a mom passing with her stroller, “i’m still mad at you so you still have to make it up to me.”
“i will—gosh, you’re all such a handful.”
“you love it!”
“not re—”
“what’s going on?”, a gruff male voice cut sukuna off as you whipped around to see shiu, megumi…
…
and yuuji!
“oh my gosh!, yuuji baby where were you?”, you screeched hugging the boy as you checked him for any injuries.
“ah i had to take a call so he came with us to the touching pond.”
“shiu.”
“mmm ya?”
“we thought he was missing.”
“oh damn,” the man muttered tapping at his phone, looking up briefly to your angry face, “he’s okay i should have communicated he followed us, thought he told you.”
sukuna came up behind you, face unreadable as he dropped a heavy hand on yuuji’s head and ruffled his hair.
“dont do that again.”
“oki!”
“or your dino collections gets it.”
the two boys gasped as they watched sukuna’s wicked grin, as he let go of yuuji’s head with a slight push and a scoff as he passed shiu.
“let’s go get some food. im done with this shit.”
“language ryoumen.”
he stopped just as the two boys passed him, shiu nearly dodging a woman passing while typing in his phone.
“you comin?”
you sighed at shiu, whose phone started ringing again, “i’ll make megumi tonight and let toji know, you should stay and deal with…”
your hand came up and gestured vaguely to his phone, “that.”
“listen im sorry, this was last minut—”
“you shouldn’t be saying sorry to me shiu,” you shook your head brushing megumi’s hair as he smiled up at you showing his drawing he made earlier.
“pretty gumi!”
you finally looked at sukuna, “okay let’s let the teacher know we found him, get junpei and let’s go.”
“yes maam.”
“is this the start of the apology?”
“what apology?”
you slapped his chest as the boys ran back to their class, “i’m joking—damn that hurt a little.”
“good.”
sukuna could only grin as he watched the teacher sigh in relief and your happy smile he’s got to see for the first time in days as you pulled your son from the line.
this one is a little longer to make up for my writing funk!! forgive me lovely ppl—i hope this suffices (˶>⩊<˶) & also sukuna is NAWT nonchalant about the things/ ppl he cares for i am not supporting agenda…
۫ ܸ ❤︎ ׅ ۫ sukuna is smitten with his beautiful wife ໒ྀི⠀ ⁺
⎯⎯ ゛⊹ heian sukuna ﹠ ⨍ brown skin reader + shes a sweetie
to claim that ryomen sukuna did anything less than adorn and adore you would be a disservice to the truth . . . a great one.
he treated you as if you were the most beautiful thing to walk this earth.
perhaps, it was because you were. from your sweet scent, the eloquence in your mannerisms, gift for effortless debate, all the way down to your brown skin. in all honesty, a sight that eased even the sorest of eyes.
while sukuna adored you specifically, appreciating your intellect and the way you kept both his mind and temper engaged . . . he was still a sucker for your stunning complexion. more often than not, he adorned you in foreign gems and jewels, purely to enhance your natural glow. the same one that left the man weak in the knees.
“sukuna…” you began, “are you finished?”, soft eyes wandering aimlessly above as you stood with your back facing him, your feet planted into the packed earth flooring of his quarters, a sliding shoji door leading out to the courtyard: where light and warm spring air filtered gently into the room.
“impatient…” he scolded, voice low yet full of fondness and respect all the same. one set of ligaments fastened a delicate gold chain around your neck, the set other brushing past your waist, the cold touch of metal meeting the warmth of your stomach.
his fingers finally clasping the golden chains together. despite his immense frame, sukuna moved with a careful, graceful restraint whenever he it came to you.
“ryo… you could have simply let the servants—”
“no.” he cut you off, his voice still gruff, yet unexpectedly soft spoken. “that will not do. i would like to be the one to prepare my wife.”
a soft silence settled before you turned to face him. “prepare..? prepare for what my lord?”
he let out a condescending scoff, only earning a frown from you, before brushing part of hair from your face, his large hand lingering a fraction too long. but not in a way that left you displeased.
“for summer. i’d think that much was obvious.”
“ah.. right...” you only nodded slowly, at a loss for what your husband could possibly mean. though his confusing manner of speech was not uncommon, you found yourself smiling and nodding as he spoke about his interests . . . particularly his discussions of historical warfare and battle tactics.
he rolled his eyes before looking down at you, sensing your confusion. akin to a predator sensing the scent of fear in its prey. “your ‘summer shade,’ as you call it. or did you misremember your own words?”
you felt heat gradually make its way up your neck and into your cheeks as realization clicked in your head. “oh! i simply did not think you remembered…” you whispered as he moved you in front of a still basin of water, your reflection trembling softly across its surface.
there you stared at your reflection as you leaned over, clear as day as the water began to calm, stray cherry blossoms drifting lazily across its surface. you could make out the delicate jewelry he had custom-made for you: a slender golden necklace with raised bead-like detailing, tiny diamonds and fractured rose quartz embedded within it. earrings hung gracefully, light enough not to pull at your ears in the way that vexed you.
when you rose to your feet to get a look at your husband, you found him with his lips slightly parted, staring at you in a manner all but identical to awe, his black robing draped loosely over his shoulders — going back to his irritated resting face one he realize he had been caught admiring you from afar . . .
you stepped into his arms with soft, graceful urgency, hugging him tightly. “thank you sukuna! these are perfect!”
he patted your head with faux begrudgement. “yeah, yeah…” he huffed. though the ever persistent beat of his heart and quiet rush of blood to his face said otherwise.
a heavy warm set of hands settled at your waist, the other two fussing lightly with your necklace, despite it needing no real fixing. “we need to try on the new outfits i had for you” he said, gaze flicking over you, taking in your features — poorly hiding the esteem in his eyes.
“sukuna..” you hummed, leaning into his hand as it brushed your face, earning a brief, puzzled glance from him. “you are aware summer is still months away, correct?”
he scoffed lightly, “and?” his hand stayed where it was, thumb idly lingering against your skin. “i simply prefer to be prepared… unlike you.”
a faint, smug curve tugged at his mouth.
“besides… these garments will look better on you than it ever could anywhere else.”
[ frat!kuna x sociallyawkward!f!reader ] running into the embodiment of your biggest fear disguised as a man— not once, but twice— wasn't bad enough. your best friend telling him that you're mute because you couldn't apologize due to your awful social skills was the cherry on top. as a result, you bite your tongue, even when you're alone. but the state of your tongue is definitely about to worsen, because another run-in with him at a party will change everything.
── .✦ TAGS
18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of nicotine/cigarettes. slight angst. hurt/comfort. MISCOMMUNICATION. slow burn. social discomfort. socially awkward reader. self-consciousness. overthinking. anxiety. social anxiety. making out. rough kissing. neck kissing. dry humping. slang. social media references. (later on… smut. oral (f! receiving). p in v.) -> tags will be updated as series continues.
── [ chapter 1 ] : look at me. (wc: 6.9K)
── [ chapter 2 ] : ...
── [ chapter 3 ] : ...
── .✦ you prefer reading on Ao3?
art by @/naomiiocha on tumblr (left side) and @/neverisa on instagram (right side)
content: dad!hiromi, mom!reader, domestic fluff, your daughter's name is harumi
hiromi stares at his phone buzzing quietly.
he lets out a tired exhale. it's noon, case files and paperwork are piled high on his desk, emails keep flooding his laptop, and now your daughter's calling. hiromi's jaw clenches—he was already focused and had already reached what you, his wife, would call flow state.
should he let it ring, or should he answer? he did tell the girls that phone calls are reserved for emergencies only. after another moment of hesitation, hiromi picks it up.
"yes, harumi?" he answers. "i'm at work. is something wrong?"
"i'm bored," harumi mumbles.
that's it. that's the emergency.
hiromi blinks. "...you're bored," he repeats flatly.
"yes."
"dad's at work."
"i know. daddy, watch me play roblox."
"harumi, dad's at work," hiromi repeats again, firmer this time.
"and i'm bored," she retorts, just as firm.
he exhales deeply through his mouth. with his free hand he rubs the bridge of his nose, keeping his irritation at bay.
"harumi," hiromi mutters, "can you bother mama for now?"
harumi turns her camera on and shakes her head. "she said bother you."
of course you did. hiromi takes a mental note to talk with you later about work hours needing to be separated from personal life.
"i'm in the middle of a murder case, princess," hiromi weakly says.
the little girl hums. "okay, but can the murder wait until you see my fairy princess wolf?"
hiromi purses his lips, sunken eyes flickering to the pink pixelated creature on his daughter's screen.
"...okay," he whispers. "okay. let dad see."
before hiromi knows it, they've been on call for three hours. harumi mutters things about her game, squeals when something exciting happens, giggles at her own jokes, then goes quiet again. sometimes she shows him something on her ipad before flopping back onto her bed.
hiromi's eyes would occasionally flick towards his phone to watch her even as his hands are busy signing papers and scribbling notes. whenever she asks what he's doing, he finds himself explaining parts of the case in simpler terms she'd understand.
it's the most relaxed he's felt all day.
and to think he almost just let the phone ring.
on the third hour, harumi turns her tablet off.
"my screen time is over, daddy," she simply says. "my ipad said so."
hiromi hums. "what're you up to next, baby?"
"maybe end the call."
"no—" hiromi clears his throat and straightens up on his chair. "i mean... can't you talk with dad a little more?"
"but you said you have to murder."
"to handle a murder case, baby," he chuckles. "and... i do, but... dad misses his harumi."
harumi tilts her head. "you miss me?" she asks. "silly daddy. we live in the same house."
"i know," hiromi laughs quietly, exhausted. "i still miss you."
"mm, okay," the little girl nods. she crawls under her blanket, and hiromi's heart almost bursts when he watches his baby settle down for a nap. "can you stay until i sleep, daddy?"
he visibly melts. "of course."
you scroll down through your husband's photo gallery, brow raised. there's an insane amount of screenshots of his call earlier with harumi—some of her roblox fairy character, her in-game pets, her smiling at the camera, and several screenshots of her dozing off.
"work-life boundaries, huh?" you flatly say.
hiromi takes his phone away from you, ears tinted red.
"yes," he murmurs. "you cannot redirect our children to me everytime they inconvenience you."
"you watched her play roblox for three hours."
hiromi goes quiet because... well, he did do that.
"she asked me to stay," he says. "so i did. and i'd do it again."
🏩 "𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ sfw nanami takes care of you while you're on your period ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა artist credits: official jjk art plz reblog / like 2 support ⠀ ⃘໋ׅ♡ 𝑤.𝑐: 0.4k ⁀ ˳ ⟡
#⃝ 𝓦ARNINGS ◦ ₊ㅤ ㅤ﹙ fluff reader is nanami's wife she/her pronouns used Nanami is the sweetest husband eva only tooth rotting fluff you and nanami were high school sweethearts reader & nanami are mid-early 20s modern au / no sorcery 2nd person perspective
໒ִ 𓈒ིྀ ˚ ℳINA'S 𝓝OTES ⫽ ୧ྀ ─ I actually don't like writing for nanami that much masterlist <3
KENTO NANAMI placed his hand over your abdomen, gently sneaking his hand up your shirt to cup at the pouch where your womb was.
His lips brushed over the back of your hair, while you were pouting, eyes closed in the constant ache. “I feel so gross…” you mumbled, groaning when you felt that one cramp shoot to your rear in eye-watering pain. The first two days of your period were always the worst, you didn’t even want to get out of bed, too tired and sore, not wanting to deal with any daily tasks.
Kento was gentle, the sweetest husband, even.
“I’ll make you warm tea, my love, you can eat it with the chocolate chip bread rolls I bought recently,” He hummed in his deep voice against the back of your neck. Soft lips pressed against where your scalp faded into your neck, warm breath ghosting over the back of your neck in a comforting brush. His thumb moved gently over your skin, pressing just firmly enough to give you some sort of relief.
Kento had always been the person to look after you on your period, even back when you two were in high school, between the lines of friends and dating. He had wrapped his sweater around your waist at one point when you had bled through your school pants. “My tummy hurtsss… and can people still see?” You pouted, turning around so that nanami could check you from the back. His eyes had bored down your figure before shaking his head silently, “you can’t see,” he had said monotonously.
You had sighed, smiling before reaching over and pecking his cheek. His face burned up almost immediately, “thank you, Kento!”
And now, almost a decade later, as your husband, he was bringing you warm tea. Watching over you, keeping you safe, and loving you. Kissing your forehead, still blushing every now and then whenever you kissed him, but he was mostly used to it now.
"Kento... you're really sexy when you take care of me," you whined playfully, rubbing your eyes to turn over in bed to see what he had brought you. Nanami was frozen, setting down the tray on the bedside table, face flushed a deep red.
