i have a presentation to deliver in around 12-14hrs and my anxiety is criminally high so i am going to ramble about my comfort character mr deezluc ragnvindr <3
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO breaks the love-o-meter at your local state fair because he had to prove a point and hit it too god damn hard. All you hear is THWACK and CRACK and "Sir, this is destruction of property, you will have to pay." from the quivering employee who takes one look at your boyfriend in his skin-tight compression top, sees the veins of his bicep pop, and goes pale-faced.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who squeezes you so tight you feel like you're going to pop, holding you in place while he kisses you into a breathless little mess, rasping against your lips about how soft your lips are, how good they taste.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO picks you up and spins you like a ballerina because there's no greater joy in the world than the one in his arms. You daresay he's even more smitten with you than he was when he was an bespectacled, dorky physics undergrad.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who is a hardcore believer in PDA, and keeps a tight hold on you when out and about, always walking on the traffic side of the sidewalk. No matter how many times he takes your hand in his, you'll still get butterflies; and he'll always give a swift kiss to your knuckles.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who finds that heaven is real when he finally moves out into an apartment with you—"And we'll put a couch here," his voice echoes off the hardwood floors in the bare bones living room, he's mapping steps and shining those hope-filled eyes at you, "And a huge TV—"
"—for all the Love Island you're gonna force me to watch?" you giggle, following him as he leads you by the hand now to the tall white windows.
"—precisely, my butterfly. And right here, we'll have a Persian rug. Very fancy. We'll put all your plants here, so they get the best sunlight..."
He takes you down the hall—dances down it with you, twirling against the wall and leaning down to give you a breathy, hasty kiss.
"And we need a big bed, so extra magic can happen on it... something durable, that won't break no matter how hard I—"
"Satoru!"
"—and I think a crib will fit over there juuust fine—"
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who gets toasty with you in the safe warm plush of his bed, viewing the full moon with you in his arms. There's no way out of them. He's 90% legs and tangles his body with you, wrapping his arms around you possessively, reeling you into his warm chest.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who yearns like a poet but is actually a 9-to-5er with satan himself as his boss (tattoos, pink hair, bad attitude, grunts a lot, etc.). It makes him ache to have to leave for work before you wake up; he lingers for a while at your bedside just to look at your soft face, still pressed into the pillow, probably having a dreamy, succulent dream—hopefully his cologne seeps into it and makes you dream of him. He wants to laze in bed and dream at your side, too, but it's 6 AM and he's grinding for the 'Honeymoon' savings jar that you and him started from the moment you moved out together.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO writes you little love letters on paper and sticks them on the fridge before leaving in the morning, because the sleepy forehead kisses and five minutes extra cuddling just isn't enough. It's these notes which make you consider proposing to him. Stuff like "... the moon was full, but not as beautiful as you'or 'omg had a dream i saved you from an epic alien invasion and henceforth i think i deserve lots of kisses today' or 'would you still love me if i was an alien. gleep glorp=yes, zeep zoop=no'. or 'let's go to the florist later? <3 we need more plants for the kitchen' or 'i had a nightmare i couldn't catch the train home. so i'm gonna work on a top-secret science project and make a potion that turns me into superman. then i can just fly home. etc. you see the vision.' or 'you looked really cute this morning i almost took a bite of you. anyways. gonna get cake on the way home <3'
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO annoys his co-workers (Nanami especially) by gushing over photos of you, talking endlessly about all the plans he has for your future together, in-depth strategies for proposing marriage plotted on PowerPoint that he presents to them during lunch break—the work day isn't so agonizingly boring and dull if he's spending most of it with you on his mind.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who's swiftly escaping the ugly grey corporate building with a chirpy "BYEBYE" and wifetime on his mind the precise moment the clock shifts to 5 PM. He can't get home quick enough, walking briskly and taking long strides. His baby is home and he's bursting to tell you about his day, and hear about yours, and let your voice soothe him, and cuddle with you like a swan on the sofa and binge Love Island with you in the slowly-coming-to-life living room.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO is squeezing you in his arms in the entrance the moment you leap at him, welcoming him home. He's looking down at you with a warm, loving gaze, "... and Nanami's going to Malaysia for a week... and Suguru's got a new piercing... he said Nanako and Mimiko are bickering a lot lately... and we talked about kids, and it made me think..." he yaps while you undo his tie and lovingly push his hair out of his droopy face. The poor boy runs out of steam as he talks, and soon falls into your lap with a sigh, mumbling into your thighs about how soft you are to him, letting something dirty slip just to make you giggle because there's no other sound in the world that can cure him quite like your laugh.
ㅤLOVESICK!GOJO who fights sleep because he wants more time with you—but by 1 AM, he's succumbed to sleep and softly snoring, curled up against you with his arms looping around your waist like a clingy koala, his chest rising and falling with each tired breath, face serene like he's dreaming of his entire future with you.
ㅤㅤㅤ──── i only intended to write the first headcanon but i got carried away. lovesick gotta be one of my fav genres of man.
The trip was amazing. Two months in a city that wasn't yours.
Being surrounded by racks of unique clothes and having hair appointments 7am was always something that you enjoyed but somewhere around week one, the lack of Jude became very noticeable.
You were missing him.
Not cute-missing. Aching-missing. The kind where you stared at photos of the two of you on your phone like he was an ex.
You facetimed whenever you could and it would always have him propped up in bed, or in the middle of training and you on some hotel floor in a face mask. It wasn't the same.
To make things worse, when when the day of the flight back home rolled around, the flight was delayed, something about seat availability on the airline's end. You decided to text Jude about it knowing that he was probably anticipating when you would get home.
you: Judeeee
Jude: Hey baby I miss youu
you: Jude omg isnt it like 3am for you???
Go to sleep idiot 🙏🏾🙏🏾
Jude: 🙄🙄
I didnt want to miss any texts from youuu
have you reached the airport yet?
You: yea
My flights a bit delayed so I'll probs get back home Friday
Jude: I miss you so much babyy 🩷🩷🩷
You: oh stop it you cheeky 😉
Jude: I love you 💓
You: I love you too 🥰
—
Your actual flight ended up landing on Thursday, a full day early, and the taxi ride back felt like it took three times as long as it should have.
By the time you got home it was properly dark outside, your hair was a mess from the flight, you were tired and a little grumpy from the travelling, but underneath all of that you were, practically vibrating with how excited you were to see Jude again after two months of only getting him through a phone screen.
Jude of course, had absolutely no idea that you would get home early (you didn’t tell him on purpose).
As you approached the door, key already in hand, you could hear a low hum of the telly playing from inside, knowing Jude, you assumed he was probably slumped on the sofa watching some stupid cooking show like always.
You turned the key in the lock as quietly as you possibly could, easing the door open slowly, unable to hold back the smile spreading across your face.
Your heart was practically palpitating as you turned the corner into the living room.
Jude was laid out on the sofa, some cooking show playing quietly in the background that he clearly wasn't paying attention to, because his eyes were locked on his phone with deep concentration, like he was waiting for text, from you probably.
The sight of him made your stomach flutter — you almost forgot how he looked in his natural habitat, top discarded somewhere because the flat always warm, that little crease between his eyebrows when he was focused on something.
You accidentally let out a small, delighted giggle at just how happy you were to be looking at him again, and the second the sound left you, your heart stopped.
His head snapped up from his phone, eyes scanning the room in confusion, like a meerkat.
A confused meerkat — until his eyes landed on you, stood there hunched slightly with your handbag clutched to your chest like some mysterious intruder.
His whole face collapsed in slow motion — confusion, then disbelief, then something so happy it made your throat go tight just looking at it.
He chucked his phone carelessly without a second thought. "You're—" he started, already scrambling up off the sofa, "you said Friday, you said the flight—"
"Surprise!" you grinned, dropping your bag because his arms were already around you, lifting you clean off the ground in a hug that squeezed breath out of you.
"I lied about the flight," you admitted into his shoulder, laughing helplessly. "I missed you way too much to wait an extra day."
"You're actually unbelievable," he mumbled into your hair, but he was laughing too, arms tightening around you like he was trying to make up for two weeks of not being able to do this.
"I love you, you know that? Properly unbelievable, but I love you." he mumbled into your hair.
You melted to that, "I love you too, even though you're currently squeezing the life out of me —"
—
Once you'd both settled onto the sofa properly, he didn't let go of your hand, tugging you down beside him so your legs ended up over his lap.
"Do you wanna see some of the outfits I modelled?" you asked, already pulling out your phone.
"Course I do, show me," he said, shuffling closer, one hand resting warm against your calf.
You unlocked your camera roll and turned the screen towards him. "Okay, this one," you said, showing him a shot from day one. "It's this sort of black set, full sleeves and tassles and stuff, it's supposed to represent decay — I felt like an actual villain wearing it."
Jude squinted at the photo, and then looked at you, then back at the screen. "You look unreal. Genuinely. And your makeup looks so cool, it's a bit terrifying if I'm honest, I think its 10/10, no notes."
"That was exactly the vibe they wanted," you said, poking his shoulder cheekily, pleased with yourself. “Naughty boy…”
You kept flicking through the rest of the photos, narrating little bits of chaos as you went — a wardrobe malfunction that nearly gave the stylist a heart attack, a producer who'd cried real tears over a lighting rig, how genuinely shit the hotel breakfast was so you and the other models ended up just getting 7 11 every day.
Jude just sat there watching you talk, with a slightly dazed look on his face like he forgot how much he loved simply listening to you ramble.
"Okay, enough about me," you said eventually, nudging his knee with your foot. "How's training actually been? Is your knee sorted now?"
That got him going properly — he sat up a bit straighter, hands moving about, as he talked the way he did when he was passionate.
He talked about a whole recap of some drills, his knee finally feeling normal again, and a mildly unhinged story about how he slipped in the showers, a case that never sat right with him apparently. You just sat there soaking it all in, how easy this was, how much you missed it.
Eventually, due to both of you being too knackered you decided to order some pizza for dinner which arrived at 11:06 pm.
You ended up eating it cross-legged on the living room floor because neither of you could be bothered to move to the table.
You both fell back into the exact same argument you'd had about pizza toppings roughly twenty times before and never actually resolved.
"You're a menace," you told him, stealing a slice directly off his plate purely to prove a point.
"didn't you lie to my face about a flight delay," he shot back, stealing it right back with a smug little grin.
You swatted at his hand giggling, except this time he caught your wrist, thumb brushing slow over your pulse point.
The energy in the room shifted.
"You've got sauce on your face idiot," you said, mostly just to say something, anything, to fill the sudden charge between you.
He raised an eyebrow, far too pleased with himself. "Are you gonna do something about it, or just gonna point it out?"
You leaned in like you were going to wipe it off with your thumb but then kissed him instead, slow at first, both of you tasting like garlic bread and grinning too much to really commit to it properly, until his hand slid up into your hair and the grinning finally stopped.
"Missed you," he murmured against your mouth.
"Yeah," you breathed back, fingers curling into his shirt. "I got that."
He pulled back enough to look at you properly, thumb tracing your jaw like he was still catching up with the fact that you were actually here, "You're actually unbelievable," he said again, quieter this time. "Lying to me about a flight delay just so you could surprise me."
"Worked though, didn't it," you smirked.
He huffed a laugh against your mouth before kissing you again, slower this time, like he had nowhere else to be.
You ended up pulling him up off the floor, both of you stumbling slightly and laughing into the kiss.
He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, one hand beside your head, the other sliding along your waist.
It was like he was trying to memorise the shape of you after just seeing you through his phone screen for the past two weeks.
"God, I actually missed you so much," he said against your jaw, you tipped your head back to give him better access, threading your fingers into his hair.
"Yeah, I got that from the billion texts a day," you teased breathlessly, you felt him smile against your skin before he kissed you again to shut you up making your knees a bit useless.
"Bedroom," you said eventually, when you managed to surface for air. "Now, please, I'm begging."
He didn't need telling twice. He pulled back just far enough to grin at you, the same slightly dazed look on his face, before scooping you up, ignoring your surprised laugh and carrying you the rest of the way.
He threw you onto the bed, "Jude —" You said amused, "Someone's excited" You vaguely pointed at the growing situation in his crotch.
Jude rolled his eyes and fell on top of you, holding himself up as to not crush you again. "I have seen you in a while, what do you expect?"
You scrunched your nose as a reaction to the corny statement and placed your hands on either side of his face, pulling his lips towards yours as if to encourage him to put his weight on you.
The feeling of his bodyweight against yours was a feeling you missed, the closeness of it being something that you took for granted.
You took one of his hands and lacing your fingers through his mid kiss, "I really did miss you."
The smile slipped from his face and he looked into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips.
"I know I keep saying that again and again but —" you said quietly. "I properly missed you."
The room settled into a comfortable silence. Outside, rain tapped gently against the bedroom window, muffled by the curtains.
Jude slowly kissed you again. "You know normally I wouldn’t admit this because you can be cocky bastard but — I actually hated coming home without you here, and I kept looking up every time I heard a noise outside the door — it's a bit silly but —."
Your chest tightened.
"I kept reaching for you in bed," you confessed. "Every morning."
He laughed softly through his nose.
"You know I actually slept on your side one night."
"You what?"
"I know."
"You win."
"I wanted to smell you again." His face immediately screwed up in regret, "Eugh I sound disgusting what the hell —"
You stared at him for a second before wrapping your arms around his neck.
"That's disgustingly cute."
"Hm."
"You've become embarrassingly sentimental."
"I've always been sentimental."
Your attention diverted to the press of his tented Joggers against your thigh, "Wow, still hard then mate?"
Jude rolled his eyes and this time, caught your tongue in a flaming kiss as his hands trailed to the hem of your T-shirt, pausing for approval. As you realised what he wanted to do you pulled your T-shirt up a little and both of you sat up allowing him to pull it of you.
His eyes slowly traced over your body, over the curve of your breast and the dip of your waist, it was almost tantalising, "You're taking your sweet time aren't you?" you remarked.
He just smiled at that, the little bastard, and moved down your body with his fingers eventually trailing the waist band of your joggers.
You lifted your hips a quick as you could, letting him edge down your trousers and take them of. Jude was practically salivating at the sight of you layed out beneath him, a damp spot on your panties from all of the making out — he barely touched you and that encouraged him furthur.
a small gasp escaped your lips as you felt him mouthing the protruding bone of your hip, the stinging sensation of his teeth going straight to you as if you weren’t already wet enough.
He continued his ministrations until his mouth was just inches away from your core, the heat radiating to him.
Then out of nowhere he looked you in the eye and bit the edge of your panties, dragging them down with his teeth. Now, as much as it was sexy, it was also a bit silly to watch this grown man, a famous footballer, try his hardest to be nonchalant whilst struggling to remove your underwear with his mouth.
The premise of it made you start laughing so hard that he suddenly sat up and looked at you with his eyes furrowed, your underwear was now halfway down your thighs, “Oi what are you laughing at?”
You covered your mouth trying to calm down, “Sorry it’s just — what in the 365 days are you doing oh my Lord, you are so funny sometimes —”
Just looked almost offended but then he started giggling too, the sound of it not helping to relieve the hilarity at all.
“Jude just eat me out idiot I’ve been waiting for this for ages —”
“Right right, I’ll get to it calm down —” he decided to just pull your panties of with his hands like a sane person.
Your hand grasped onto his hair has you felt him mouthing at your inner thigh, “Jude” you giggled slightly out of frustration, “What are you playing at? Just lick me.”
Jude smirked against your skin and pulled back slightly; the sight of your wet core, all exposed and just a couple of inches away from his face was something that he had definitely thought of too much while you were away.
When his tongue suddenly traced along the folds of your sex you inhaled deeply, he started lapping along your slit, his nose bumping your clit in a deliberate rhythm.
You couldn’t help but let out a whine, the sound encouraging him on.
He was lapping you up like a man possessed, the the taste of your sex was his nectar.
He inserted a finger into your aching hole and started to pump it in and out, eventually adding a second finger.
It became too much, his fingers, his mouth sucking your aching bundle of nerves, his moans against your sex like he was fully indulging in you.
“Fuck — Jude don’t stop —”
The pull of your hand on his hair only made him louder as he moaned messily onto your clit. He looked up at you, your eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed, silent pleas escaping your parted lips, chest heaving.
God this was an image that he missed so badly. An image that had been burned into his mind.
As you looked down at him briefly you noticed his hips rutting against the duvet.
Eventually the stimulation caught up and you started convulsing as the orgasm crashed over you.
Jude didn’t stop, he was still sucking on your clit and pumping his fingers in you, you practically had to drag him by his hair.
God he looked so beautiful like this, his face covered in the juices of your sex, eyes dilated, lips swollen and parted.
He pulled you into a deep kiss causing you to taste your juices on his tongue.
“Jude —” you started before he could pull you into a kiss.
“Yea baby?”
“Do you want me to blow —”
He immediately cut you of, “No.”
Youpanted slightly against his mouth, partly because you were confused as to why he said no and partly because the effects of the orgasm we’re still there, “Are you sure I —”
Jude’s lashes fluttered against yours as he looked at you with sincerity, “I don’t want you to tire yourself even more after a flight journey, tonight’s about you okay? I wanna make you feel good.”
You were slightly taken back at the bluntness of it all - I wanna make you feel good.
“Jude can you fuck me?”
Jude smiled, reaching to the bedside table for a condom without second thoughts, “Anything you want.”
He sat up and took his joggers of like he was being help at gun point, the wet patch on his boxers glaring you in the face, you could have sworn you saw him twitch.
He slid his boxers of, his cock springing up and hitting his lower abs slightly, it looked like it must have hurt, the tip was slightly reddish and leaking precum.
He put the condom on and kissed you again before sliding his cock in between your wet folds. “I missed this.”
He slowly bottomed out causing you both to moan against each others lips, it was intimate. You were holding his face and he was holding yours, his other hand supporting his body weight.
You could help but laugh slightly as you both stayed in that position, “You look funny up close.”
Jude rolled his eyes, but his smile was giving it away, “I’m balls deep in you and your saying that crap?”
“Ew never say balls deep ever again it does not suit you.”
He licked you nose in response but before you could retaliate you felt him grind his cock slowly against your walls, the feeling making your breath stutter, “Jesus — go faster Jude.”
He smiled against your mouth and started to pick up the pace, the wet sounds almost being crude if it wasn’t for how much you both needed this.
“I forgot how — how good you feel”, Jude panted, his thrusts now becoming increasingly hard.
“Fuck — Jude go faster — please.”
The joint sound of your pants and moans grew faster and more pornographic with each thrust, dragging his cock out fully before bottoming out again in sudden sharp movements.
“Fuck me —” it was safe to say that you would not be walking in the morning.
Your pants were now in unison, the bed creaking loudly as you found a fast rhythm.
“Reader I — I don’t think I can’t last —”
“No Jude I can’t either don’t sto—”
Before you could even finished that last word a loud crack echoed though the room.
Jude stopped half-thrust into you, his eyes suddenly opened, “What was that?”
You smiled anxiously against his lips as you were taken of guard by the the sudden loss of stimulation, “Um — wait did we —”
Jude’s lips parted into an ‘O’ as he realised what that sound was: “Oh my god did we break the fucking bed?”
You sat up quickly, “Get of the bed idiot!”
You both scrambled of the bed as quick as you could, completely disheveled and naked.
Jude lifted the mattress as you both saw the consequences of your shenanigans.
Two wooden boards were snapped in half.
Not one.
Two
You looked at Jude in a very shocked manner. “There is no way we broke the fucking bed.”
Jude just stood there like when he got a yellow card from a referee in that one match in 2022, “How have we done that then?”
The silence was broken into a hard fit of laughter as if you weren’t just passionately having sex a mere three minutes ago.
Jude just dragged you into his arms, skin against skin, His cock still very much hard against your hip. I reckon this is a problem for tomorrow don’t you?”
You very much agreed because two minutes later he ended up sitting against the wall with you on top of him riding his cock.
He did initially object to you riding him because he didn’t want you to do work after a flight but you told him that the bed breaking made you feel active again.
You were both fucking into eachother like rabid animals, panting against each others mouths like you couldn’t get enough, “Fuck Jude — Fuck —”
Jude knew you were close, he could feel your walls clenching his as he fucked up into you.
You came with a sudden moan, seeing stars as you had the second and probably last orgasm of the night.
Jude came immediately after, both you riding out the wave until you collapsed beside each other onto the floor.
“So um —” you pointed vaguely to the bed, “Maybe we should sleep and fix that tomorrow?”
Jude let out a tired chuckle, “I love you so much.”
a/n: reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated!! lmk if you wanna be on the taglist <3 also ignore the fact that the pizza was probably just abandoned (my greedy ahh would leave mid sex to eat it)
note: he's in his mid-thirties, and you're in your early twenties (or anything you want). can be read as an unofficial sequel to he's touch starved. just a little something for today since my next fic might take some time. kind of nervous posting this omg but i hope you guys enjoy!
tags: size difference, soft dom clark (non sexual), age gap, ditzy+scatterbrained f! reader, clark & reader are coworkers, no plot, just pure fluff
୨ৎ even before dating, clark acted like the best boyfriend — to you only. he would walk you home after work, walking the side of the road, and he wouldn't touch you, not yet, but his hand would hover on your back, gently guiding you without even having to touch you, even if he so desperately wanted to.
୨ৎ he would pack you lunches, after you told him how you always forgot to make food so you often went entire days without eating (your brain makes it difficult for you to remember things you don’t really care about), and then pester you (gently) until you finally stopped typing on your keyboard and started eating. “atta girl,” he would praise you.
୨ৎ when he becomes your boyfriend though? that’s when the restraints finally come off. a hand on your neck, on your elbow, or his favorite, on the small of your back. he’s always touching you, always reassuring you. when the world gets too noisy and you can’t leave, he would gently squeeze the back of your neck, allowing you to focus solely on his touch and presence.
୨ৎ he knows that sometimes you get too engrossed in whatever it is you’re reading and refuse to look up from your book until you’re finished, and he’s fine with that. even if you like to read while walking with him. you don’t need to have eyes when he’s around. he’ll be your eyes and your guide. he would gently stir you away to keep you from walking head into a light pole or from walking into traffic. he doesn’t even mind that you don’t even notice. that you don’t even realise the full extent of what he would do for you to keep you safe — and happy
୨ৎ before him, you only had bad boyfriends. guys who made fun of your hyperfixations, your passions, the way you talked and the way you weren’t very perceptive, and were slow to the uptake. it’s so difficult for you to trust people again, to truly be your authentic self, but around clark, since the first day you met him, you felt safe. for the first time in your life, you met someone who truly loved all of you without condition.
୨ৎ clark loves that you feel so safe around him. in fact, he encourages it. “let me see all of you, love. you don’t have to hide anything from me.”
୨ৎ his love language is acts of service, so guess what? you’re serviced from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. he is the one to wake you up every day, knowing how you like to hit the snooze button. he makes the both of you breakfast, and he lets you snooze a little on his lap while he reads his newspaper and drinks his coffee.
୨ৎ and don’t get me wrong, it’s not that clark doesn’t think you’re not capable of handling yourself. it’s not that at all. he knows you’re more than capable to do anything you put your mind into if you had to. he knows that your weird girl persona is just what people see on the surface and assume it’s all you are, but he knows better. he knows it’s a coping mechanism, and how you feel good. he knows you’re independent and strong and smart, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make your life easier. as long as you would have him, he will have you.
୨ৎ on date nights, when your feet would hurt from walking all night with your cute (but painful) pink heels, he would drop to his knees in the street without a care in the world and take your feet out of your heels, before lifting you in his arms, and holding your heels in his other hand. you tell him you can handle it, and he says “i know you can, sweetheart. but that doesn’t mean you have to. not when i’m around.” so, blushing, you let him lift you like a princess in his arms. he doesn’t even let you hold the heels. he holds them himself.
୨ৎ you’re not stupid or naive, you just want to see the best in people, even when it doesn’t exist. in that regard, you’re just like him, and he loves you so much for it.
୨ৎ clark is a jealous boyfriend, but not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust other men. it’s a protective kind of jealousy, born out of love and care, not insecurity and fear. he is secure and confident in your love for him.
୨ৎ clark kent is the ultimate masculine man. not because he’s strong or tall, but because he’s so confident in his masculinity that it hurts (in a good way). he always wears your pink and cute and hyper feminine purses or bags while you’re busy shopping, waiting until you’re finished. he doesn’t hide the purse or act like he’s disgusted, no. he puts it over his shoulder like it’s part of his outfit. he also never uses his phone around you. he was already chronically offline, but it’s worse around you. he never answers calls or even texts when you’re with him. even if you’re busy. and when you’re busy, he busies himself with watching you, his hands in his pockets.
୨ৎ he never lets you buy anything, even when he doesn’t even understand what you want, like when you had an obsession with labubus and you absolutely had to have the pink one, and clark doesn’t even understand what he’s looking at, but he can see how badly you want it, so he gets it for you, no questions asked. he gets upset when he learns that you used your own money on something he could have easily bought you.
୨ৎ clark is always respectful and polite, but he never smiles more than necessary to women. never touches them or talks to them if it’s not an absolute necessity. you tell him you don’t mind if he has girl friends, but he says, “you’re the only girl friend i need”.
୨ৎ conversely, he does let you have male friends. both because he trusts you and because he refuses to dictate what you do or what you can’t do. and he trusts you to always tell him if one of them spoke out of turn or did something they shouldn’t have.
୨ৎ clark would always read for you. he reads for you your favorite romcom books, and when you giggle at a passage, he would file that information in his mind for later.
୨ৎ he gets mad when people say you’re only with him for the money, or when people call you a sugar baby or a gold digger. you’re used to it, because people see the clothes and the hair and the rings and the older men at your side and instantly assume you’re some sort of sex worker. nothing wrong with sex workers, so you don’t really care, even if it does chip at your self-esteem a bit. will people only ever see you as a product package?
୨ৎ clark would listen intently while you talk to him about your latest obsession. one time he listened to you psychoanalyze holden caulfield from the catcher in the rye, in absolute awe of your intellect and hidden depth. another time, he listened to you talk about ducks and their soft feathers and how round and white and soft they are for hours, with just as much focus. he gets you a collector edition of the catcher in the rye and he takes you on a picnic date the next day by the lake, so you can see the ducks. he even brought duck-safe food for them. you’d never been happier.
୨ৎ clark never is surprised when you say something really smart. he knows. he always knew. he hates that people act like they never would have imagined you capable of being so intelligent, but at least he knows. he sees you. he gets you.
masterlist ᯓ★ part2? requests! ᯓ★ directory ᯓ★ come say hi
Hello! I had a Michael request if you wanna write more for him because I absolutely love how you write him! Could you write something about taking care of an exhausted Michael after tour has ended? Your choice on tour/era!
hii, thank you for requesting this and for loving my work !!! i hope you enjoy it (*^_^*) (also i never thought that many people would love my last fanfic of michael but omg was i shocked 😭❤️ )
home is where you are
when the HIStory tour finally ends, and the second he steps through the door, he falls into your care.
michael jackson x femreader
OCTOBER 15, 1997
the house is quiet in that way it only ever is when he’s gone, a kind of stillness that settles into the walls and into your chest, the kind that makes you keep glancing at the clock even though you already know he’s late, even though you already know he’s dragging himself through the last waves of fans and security and goodbyes. you’ve spent the whole day preparing for him, moving slowly through the rooms, lighting soft lamps instead of the bright overheads he hates, letting the warm smell of dinner fill the air until it feels like the house itself is exhaling. you keep smoothing the blanket on the couch, adjusting the pillows, checking the pot on the stove even though it’s perfect, because you know how he gets after tour, how the adrenaline crashes out of him all at once, how the silence hits him harder than the noise ever did, how he comes home looking like he’s been carrying the whole world on his shoulders and suddenly remembers he doesn’t have to. you’ve been waiting for that moment, for the sound of his key in the door, for the soft shuffle of his feet, for the way he always calls your name first, voice tired but warm, like he’s finally somewhere safe.
when the lock finally clicks, your heart jumps before you can stop it, and you wipe your hands on your sides even though they’re not wet, standing there in the soft glow of the kitchen as the door opens. he steps inside slowly, almost cautiously, like he’s afraid the house might disappear if he breathes too hard. his hair is damp from sweat and the cold night air, curls sticking to his forehead, and his shoulders are slumped in a way that makes your chest ache. he drops his bag by the door without looking at it, eyes scanning the room until they land on you, and the second he sees you, something in him melts. he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. "baby…" he whispers, voice hoarse, and it’s not dramatic or performative or stage‑ready, it’s small, real, the kind of voice he only ever uses with you. he stands there for a moment, just taking you in, and you can see the exhaustion in every line of his body, the way his hands tremble slightly from overwork and adrenaline withdrawal, the way his eyes look both overwhelmed and relieved at the same time.
you walk toward him slowly, not rushing, because you know he’s fragile in these moments, not physically but emotionally, stretched thin from giving too much of himself to the world. when you reach him, he leans into you before you even touch him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist with a kind of desperate softness. he smells like sweat and stage lights and cold air and something uniquely him, something warm and familiar that makes your eyes sting. you slide your hands up his back, feeling the tension there, the knots formed from months of dancing and traveling and pretending he’s not tired. he lets out a shaky breath against your neck, his voice muffled as he murmurs, "i missed you so much… you don’t even know…" and you hold him tighter, because you do know, because you felt it too, every night he wasn’t here, every morning you woke up alone in the bed you share.
he stays like that for a long moment, just breathing you in, grounding himself, letting the noise of the tour fade out of his body. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are glassy with exhaustion, but there’s a softness there that makes your heart flip. he lifts a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing your skin gently, almost reverently, as if he’s reminding himself you’re real. "you look so beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and warm, and even though he’s the one who looks like he’s about to collapse, he still says it like it’s the most important thing in the world. you smile at him, brushing a curl off his forehead, and he leans into your touch like he’s starving for it. you can see how tired he is, how heavy his eyelids are, how his shoulders sag with every breath, and your heart squeezes with the urge to take care of him, to make everything soft and warm and easy for him tonight.
you take his hand gently, guiding him toward the kitchen, and he follows without hesitation, fingers curling around yours like he’s afraid to let go. when he sees the table set neatly, candles lit, steam rising from the food you kept warm for him, his lips part in a small, surprised smile, the kind that lights up his whole face even when he’s exhausted. "you cooked for me?" he asks softly, almost shyly, and you nod, squeezing his hand. "honey… you didn’t have to…" he whispers, but the way he looks at the meal, at the soft glow of the candles, at the care you put into every detail, tells you how much it means to him. he sits down slowly, like his body is finally realizing it can rest, and you move around him gently, placing a plate in front of him, brushing your fingers through his curls as you pass. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into your hand with a quiet sigh, and you feel something warm bloom in your chest.
he takes the first bite, and his eyes flutter open in surprise, a soft sound escaping him. "this is so good…" he murmurs, voice thick with gratitude, and you sit beside him, watching the way his shoulders relax with each bite, the way the warmth of the food seems to bring him back to himself. he keeps glancing at you between bites, like he still can’t believe you’re here, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he looks away too long. "i missed home," he says quietly, almost to himself, "i missed you… i missed this…" and you reach for his hand under the table, intertwining your fingers with his. he squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and for the first time in months, he looks peaceful.
when he finishes eating, you can see the heaviness settling deeper into his body, the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t just sit in his muscles but in his bones, in the quiet spaces behind his eyes. you brush your fingers over the back of his hand and speak softly, your voice warm and steady, "you need a bath. you’re worn out. let me run one for you." he shakes his head immediately, almost instinctively, his curls brushing his forehead as he murmurs, "no, no, you don’t have to do all that for me. i can just lie down. i don’t want you doing more work." you lean closer, your thumb tracing slow circles on his skin, and you whisper, "michael, i want to. you’ve been pushing yourself for months. let me take care of you tonight. please." he looks at you with that soft, overwhelmed expression, the one he gets when he doesn’t know how to accept kindness without feeling guilty, and you squeeze his hand gently, adding, "you deserve comfort. you deserve rest. let me help you feel human again." he exhales shakily, his shoulders dropping as he finally nods, whispering, "okay… if you really want to." you smile at him, brushing a curl from his face as you say, "i really do. come on."
you guide him to the bathroom, your hand warm around his, and he follows you with slow, tired steps. the soft lights glow against the tiles as you turn on the tap, letting the warm water fill the tub, adding a little of the gentle soap he likes, the one that smells clean and soft and nothing like the harsh scents of hotels and backstage rooms. he stands there watching you, wrapped in the blanket you gave him, his eyes half‑lidded with exhaustion but full of something tender. "you always think of everything," he murmurs, and you glance back at him with a small smile, answering, "i think of you. that’s all." he looks down, almost shy, and you step closer, your hands moving to the edge of the blanket. "let me help you," you whisper, and he nods, letting you slip the blanket from his shoulders as he slips out of the rest of his clothes.
when he sinks into the warm water, his head falls back with a quiet sound that makes your heart ache, a soft sigh of relief that seems to melt months of tension from his body. you kneel beside the tub, dipping your hand into the water and pouring it gently over his shoulders, watching the way his eyes flutter closed. "feels good?" you ask softly, and he nods, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, "it feels like heaven… i didn’t realize how much i needed this." you smile, brushing your fingers through the damp curls at his temple, and you tell him, "i knew. i could see it the second you walked in." he opens his eyes slowly, looking at you with a mixture of love and disbelief, like he still can’t understand how someone can care for him this deeply without wanting anything in return.
"when you’re done, i want to give you a massage. your shoulders are so tight." he shakes his head immediately, eyes widening slightly as he murmurs, "no, sweetheart, you’ve done enough. i don’t want you tiring yourself out for me. i can manage." you lean in closer, your hand resting gently on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "michael," you whisper, "you’ve been carrying the weight of the world for months. let me carry a little of it tonight. i want to help you. i want you to feel good. please let me." he swallows hard, his eyes softening as he whispers, "i just… i don’t want to take advantage of your kindness." you shake your head gently, your thumb brushing his cheek as you say, "you’re my husband. let me take care of you."
he closes his eyes, breathing in slowly, and when he opens them again, there’s a quiet surrender there, a trust so deep it makes your chest warm. "okay," he whispers, "i’ll let you." you smile softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead, your voice warm as you murmur, "good. finish your bath, baby. i’ll get everything ready for you." he watches you as you stand, his eyes following you with a softness that makes your heart flutter, and he whispers, "thank you… for being here… for loving me like this." you turn back to him, your voice gentle and sure as you say, "always. you’re home now. let me take care of you."
when he finally steps out of the bath, the steam curling around him like a soft veil, he looks calmer than he has in months, his shoulders no longer pulled up to his ears, his breathing slower, his eyes heavy but peaceful. he walks over your shared bedroom, the lights dim and warm, the bed already turned down, the soft scent of the candle you lit earlier drifting through the air. he sits on the edge of the bed, now dressed in more comfortable clothes, his curls damp and falling into his eyes. you kneel behind him on the mattress, your hands resting gently on his shoulders as you whisper, "lie down on your stomach for me, baby. i’m going to massage your back." he exhales slowly and stretches out on his stomach, his arms resting beside his head, his body finally surrendering to the comfort he’s been denying himself. you sit beside him, warming a little oil between your hands before placing them gently on his back. he lets out a quiet sound the moment your palms press into his muscles, a soft, involuntary breath that tells you just how much tension he’s been carrying. "see?" you murmur softly, your thumbs moving in slow circles along his shoulder blades, "you needed this." he nods against the pillow, his voice muffled as he whispers, "it feels so good… i didn’t realize i needed it this much." you chuckle softly.
your hands move slowly down his back, pressing gently into the knots along his spine, feeling the way his muscles loosen under your touch. he breathes deeply, each exhale softer than the last, his body sinking deeper into the mattress as he lets himself relax fully for the first time in months. "you’re magic," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion and relief, and you smile, your fingers tracing the curve of his shoulder as you whisper, "no, baby. i just love you." he turns his head slightly, just enough to see you from the corner of his eye, and whispers, "i love you more than anything… you know that, right?" you lean down and kiss his temple, your voice soft and warm as you answer, "i know. and i love you just as much. that’s why i want you to rest."
you work your way down to his lower back, your hands slow and steady, and he lets out another soft sound, his body relaxing even further. "you’re going to fall asleep on me," you tease gently, and he gives a tired little laugh, whispering, "i might… you’re too good at this." you smile, brushing your fingers lightly along his side as you say, "then sleep. i’ll be right here."
your hands keep moving slowly along his back, warm and steady, pressing into the places you know hurt him the most, the places he never complains about even when he should. his breathing grows deeper, softer, each exhale sinking him further into the mattress, and you can feel the way his body finally begins to trust the rest you’re giving him. you lean down a little, your voice gentle as you whisper, "tell me if anything hurts too much, mike. i don’t want to press too hard." he shakes his head against the pillow, his voice low and warm as he murmurs, "no… it’s perfect. you’re perfect." you smile softly, brushing your fingers along his shoulder before pressing your thumbs into the tight muscle there, and you whisper, "i know, that’s why i wanted to do it. you’ve been holding everything in for so long." he lets out a quiet breath, almost a sigh, and whispers, "i didn’t want to worry you."
you pause for a moment, your hands resting gently on his back as you lean closer, your voice soft but full of emotion. "michael, you can always tell me when you’re tired. you don’t have to hide anything from me. i’m here to help you carry it." he turns his head slightly, just enough to see you from the corner of his eye, and his voice comes out small and honest as he whispers, "i know… i just never want to be a burden to you." your heart squeezes at the vulnerability in his tone, and you slide your hand up to his cheek, guiding his face toward you gently. "you could never be a burden," you whisper, your thumb brushing his skin, "you’re my husband. i love you. taking care of you is not a burden. it’s something i want to do." he closes his eyes, breathing in slowly, and whispers, "you always know what to say to make me feel safe."
you continue the massage, working your way down his back with slow, careful movements, feeling the tension melt under your touch. he relaxes so deeply that his fingers uncurl from the sheets, his shoulders softening, his breathing steady and warm. "you’re falling asleep," you murmur softly, a small smile in your voice, and he lets out a tired little laugh, whispering, "i can’t help it… you’re too gentle with me." you lean down and kiss the back of his shoulder, your lips soft against his skin as you whisper, "then sleep, baby. i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere." he hums quietly, a sound full of trust and comfort, and you feel his body sink even deeper into the mattress, like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding onto.
after a few more minutes, you ease your hands away, smoothing your palms over his back one last time. he moves slowly, sleepily, rolling onto his back with a soft sigh, his curls falling across the pillow, his eyes half‑open and warm. you sit beside him, brushing the damp strands from his forehead, and he reaches for your hand immediately, holding it against his chest like he needs the contact to stay grounded. "come here," he whispers, his voice soft and tired, "please." you lie down beside him, your body close to his, your hand resting over his heart as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his warmth.
he looks at you with that soft, grateful expression that always makes your breath catch, and he whispers, "thank you for tonight… for everything. i don’t know what i’d do without you." you shake your head gently, your fingers brushing his cheek as you whisper, "you don’t have to thank me. i love you. i’m always going to take care of you." he leans his forehead against yours, his voice barely audible as he murmurs, "i love you so much… more than i can ever say." you smile softly, your hand sliding up to cup his face as you whisper, "i know, baby. i love you too. now rest. you’re home. you’re safe."
his eyes flutter closed, his breathing evening out as he finally lets himself drift, his arm still wrapped around you, holding you close like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored. you stay there with him, your heart full as you watch him fall asleep in the quiet warmth of your home, knowing he’s finally where he belongs.
HELLO omg I got this idea and IMMEDIATELY thought of your f1 drivers react series.
So I was reading a book where the mc (the girl) was at a bar and she was like suuuuper drunk so her bf was called by someone to come get her and when he got there she was like "i have a boyfriend" in like a really drunk way while pushing his chest away as he was tryna help her up to get her home. And he was just so happy and giggly because she'd say to a stranger that she's with him when she's drunk. (Even though she's drunk enough to not realise it's him for a moment.) And I thought it was just such a cute moment, and I'd love to see this with f1 drivers react.
If you do choose to do it could you please do it with KA12, MV33, CL16, LN4, OP81, and any other drivers you wish!!
Thank you!!! 🧡🧡🧡
F1 DRIVERS REACT TO
⪩⪨ featuring: kimi antonelli, max verstappen, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri, lewis hamilton
⪩⪨ synopsis: f1 drivers react to you saying you have a boyfriend to them while drunk.
⪩⪨ genre: fluff
➜ kimi antonelli
kimi freezes for a second when you push his chest, brows drawn together.
“i— it’s me,” he says softly, trying not to laugh.
you squint at him suspiciously. “i have. a. boyfriend.”
his lips twitch into a cheeky smile. he looks way too pleased.
“really?” he hums. “what’s he like?”
you nod seriously, mouth turning into a pout as you try to look serious. “he’s… nice. and very very handsome.”
that’s it. he’s smiling like an idiot now, cheeks pink as he gently pulls you back toward him.
“okay,” he laughs quietly, wrapping an arm around you. “i’ll take you home. your handsome boyfriend would want that.”
the entire ride back he’s replaying it in his head, heart full, thinking how you still choose him even when drunk.
➜ max verstappen
max watches you shove him with surprising strength and blink up at him like he’s a stranger.
“no,” you slur. “don’t touch me. i have a boyfriend.”
he bursts out laughing.
“wow,” he grins, holding his hands up. “good for you.”
you cross your arms, proud. “he’s very protective.”
max leans down to your level, eyes dark. “yeah? does he look like me, perhaps?”
the grin softens instantly as he pulls you into his chest, kissing the top of your head.
you squint, pause, then—
“…oh.”
“that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “even if you don’t recognize me.”
➜ charles leclerc
charles is immediately gentle, hands hovering so you don’t feel cornered.
“chérie, it’s me,” he says softly.
you gasp, offended. “don't call me that! i have a boyfriend!”
his heart actually melts.
“oh?” he smiles, playing along. “is he nice to you?”
you nod enthusiastically. “he loves me very much.”
charles swallows back a laugh, eyes shining.
he will think about this moment for the rest of his life.
“i do,” he says quietly, pulling you into a careful hug once you finally let him.
“very very much.”
➜ lando norris
you push his chest and nearly lose your balance.
“i’m TAKEN,” you announce loudly.
lando snorts. “yeah, love. by me.”
you gasp. “that’s exactly what he would say!”
he’s laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes, but he still catches you before you fall.
“this is amazing,” he giggles. “you’re absolutely hammered and still loyal.”
he presses a kiss to your temple as you finally cling to him.
“i hope you know i’m never letting you live this down.”
➜ oscar piastri
oscar freezes when you pull away from him.
“i have a boyfriend,” you say firmly, finger poking his chest.
his brain short circuits a little.
“oh— uh— yeah?” he asks, voice soft, amused. “is he… good at least?”
you nod, leaning forward. “he makes me feel safe.”
that’s it. he’s done. GONER.
oscar smiles so gently it almost hurts, carefully guiding you into his arms.
“okay,” he murmurs. “i’ll take you home where you're safe.”
he’s glowing the entire drive.
➜ lewis hamilton
lewis raises his hands immediately when you glare at him.
“hey, hey— all good,” he laughs. “you’re safe.”
you frown. “i have a boyfriend.”
he beams. “lucky guy.”
when you finally recognize him, you melt against his chest, mumbling apologies.
lewis just hugs you tighter.
“no need. i love that you protect us like that.”
☆ ⠀⠀⠀ ⑅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀⠀⠀◌ ⠀⠀⠀ ꕤ
my f1 drivers react to series might have been the best and worst things to ever happen to me cause they make me SO. DELULU. im just a girl
Hi, I love your works!! I was wondering if you could do a lando fic where max fewtrell, his bsf, is streaming and lando and his gf are sleeping in the background. Kind of a reference to one stream that happened in real life! Thank you! 🧡🧡
Off‑Camera
Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader
Synopsis: When Max accidentally streams from Lando’s apartment, the internet catches Lando and his childhood‑sweetheart girlfriend asleep in the background—cuddled up, kissing in their sleep, and being unintentionally adorable—sending fans into a meltdown before the couple even wakes up.
Requested - You must be a mind reader! I’ve had this fic in the drafts and up on Patreon for free for the last couple of days!
Patreon - Exclusive Content
Max never planned on going live from Lando’s apartment.
Actually, that’s a lie — he absolutely planned it. He just didn’t plan on this.
The stream had started innocently enough: a casual “catch‑up with the boys” session, Max perched at Lando’s desk, headset on, LED lights glowing behind him. He’d done this a hundred times. He knew the angles, the lighting, the jokes that would land. He was a professional at this point.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the sight directly behind him.
Because Lando Norris — McLaren driver, chaos incarnate, menace to society — was currently curled up in bed with his childhood‑sweetheart girlfriend, both of them tangled in blankets, limbs thrown over each other like two sleepy cats who’d melted into one shape.
And they were dead asleep.
Max had walked in, taken one look, and whispered to himself,
“Oh, that’s adorable. And also… that’s going to be a problem.”
But the stream was already scheduled. The chat was already waiting. And honestly? He wasn’t about to wake them. Lando asleep was rare enough. Lando asleep peacefully was practically a national treasure.
So Max angled the camera slightly, hoping the bed wouldn’t be too visible.
It was extremely visible.
The moment he went live, chat exploded.
CHAT:
IS THAT LANDOOOO
WHY IS HE CUDDLING SOMEONE
WHO IS SHE
MAX TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW
THE WAY HE’S HOLDING HER OMG
THE SOFT BOYFRIEND ERA IS REAL
Max tried to keep a straight face.
“Guys, relax. They’re sleeping. Be normal.”
Chat was never normal.
He kept talking, answering questions, pretending he wasn’t hyper‑aware of the soft breathing behind him. Every so often, he’d glance back — and every time, the sight hit him right in the chest.
Because Lando wasn’t just asleep.
He was wrapped around her.
One arm under her neck, the other around her waist, his face buried in her hair. Their legs tangled. Her hand resting on his chest. The kind of position that said: I trust you. I’m safe here. I’m not going anywhere.
He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until chat went feral.
CHAT:
CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS???
MAX CONFIRMING LORE
THIS IS BETTER THAN NETFLIX
THE WAY HE’S HOLDING HER I’M GONNA CRY
Max groaned. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m not giving you their whole life story. I’m just saying they’ve known each other forever. And Lando’s basically a koala when he sleeps.”
He turned back to the game, trying to focus.
But then there was movement behind him.
A soft rustle. A sleepy sigh. The sound of someone shifting closer.
Max froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Lando had tightened his hold around her, pulling her even closer, tucking her head under his chin. His fingers brushed her back in slow, unconscious circles. She murmured something — too soft to hear — and Lando responded with a half‑asleep hum, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of her head.
Max slapped a hand over his mouth.
Chat lost its collective mind.
CHAT:
HE KISSED HER HEAD IN HIS SLEEP
LANNNDOOOOOO
THIS IS ILLEGAL LEVELS OF SOFT
MAX YOU BETTER NOT END THIS STREAM
Max whispered, “I’m witnessing a rom‑com in real time.”
He tried to continue playing, but the background was too distracting. Every few minutes, one of them would shift, or sigh, or cuddle closer, and chat would explode again.
At one point, she rolled slightly, her face now visible — peaceful, relaxed, the kind of expression that only existed when someone felt completely safe.
Lando followed her movement instinctively, arm tightening around her waist, nose brushing her cheek as he nuzzled closer.
Max whispered, “He’s literally going to fuse himself to her.”
CHAT:
HE’S SO IN LOVE IT’S PAINFUL
MAX PLEASE WAKE THEM UP I WANT INTERACTION
NO LET THEM SLEEP THEY’RE PRECIOUS
THIS IS THE BEST STREAM OF MY LIFE
Max shook his head. “I’m not waking them. Lando will kill me. And she’ll kill me more.”
He kept playing, but the universe had other plans.
Because twenty minutes later, Lando stirred.
Not fully awake — just drifting at the edge of consciousness. His eyes stayed closed, but his hand slid up her back, fingers brushing her hair. He pressed another sleepy kiss to her forehead.
Then, in the softest, most vulnerable voice Max had ever heard from him, Lando mumbled:
“Love you.”
Max’s jaw dropped.
Chat combusted.
CHAT:
HE SAID IT HE SAID IT HE SAID IT
MAX DID YOU HEAR THAT
I’M SOBBING
THE SOFTEST MAN ALIVE
Max whispered, “Oh my god. I’m going to get murdered for this.”
But he didn’t mute. He didn’t turn the camera. He didn’t stop the stream.
Because this wasn’t scandalous. It wasn’t embarrassing. It was… human. Soft. Real. A side of Lando the world rarely got to see.
And honestly? Max thought the world deserved to see it.
A few minutes later, she shifted again, her voice groggy and warm.
“Lan… you awake?”
Lando hummed, still half-asleep. “Mmh. You comfy?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, snuggling closer. “You’re warm.”
Lando smiled — eyes still closed, voice thick with sleep.
“Good. Stay.”
Max melted. Chat melted. The entire internet melted.
But then — disaster.
She blinked her eyes open, squinting at the room. Her gaze drifted… and landed on Max.
On Max’s headset.
On Max’s microphone.
On Max’s very obvious livestream setup.
Her eyes widened.
“Max,” she croaked, “are you streaming?”
Max winced. “Uh… surprise?”
She sat up slightly — still wrapped in Lando’s arms — and stared at him with the exhausted disbelief of someone who had just realized they’d been unconscious on camera for an hour.
“Oh my god.”
Lando finally blinked awake, confused and rumpled and adorable.
“What’s happening…?”
She pointed at Max. “He’s streaming.”
Lando turned his head. Saw the camera. Saw the chat. Saw the chaos.
Then he groaned and buried his face in her shoulder.
“Max, you’re dead to me.”
Max laughed. “Chat says hi.”
Lando didn’t lift his head. “Tell chat I’m never speaking to them again.”
She giggled — soft, sleepy, affectionate — and brushed her fingers through Lando’s hair. “It’s okay, Lan. We were just sleeping.”
“Exactly,” Lando mumbled. “Sleeping. On camera. While Max farms content.”
Max raised his hands. “Hey, I tried to angle the camera away!”
“You failed,” Lando said, voice muffled.
She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “It’s fine. They’ve seen worse.”
Lando peeked up at her, eyes softening instantly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “You?”
He nodded, still half-asleep. “Better now.”
Max groaned. “You two are disgusting.”
Lando smirked. “Jealous?”
“Absolutely not.”
Chat disagreed loudly.
CHAT:
MAX IS THIRD-WHEELING SO HARD
LET THEM BE IN LOVE MAX
THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER OMG
THIS IS CANON NOW
Lando finally sat up, hair a mess, blanket around his shoulders like a cape. He looked at the camera with the resigned expression of a man who had accepted his fate.
“Alright, chat. Yes, this is my girlfriend. Yes, we were sleeping. No, Max is not allowed to stream here ever again.”
Max snorted. “You say that every time.”
“And I mean it every time.”
She laughed, leaning into Lando’s side. He wrapped an arm around her automatically, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her temple without thinking.
Max pointed at them. “See? Koala.”
Lando glared. “End the stream.”
“Make me.”
Lando reached for a pillow.
Max yelped.
Chat screamed.
And the stream ended in chaos — Lando chasing Max out of the room, she laughing into the blankets, and the internet collectively losing its mind over the softest, sleepiest, most domestic glimpse into Lando Norris’s real life.
omg omg do you know that tiktok trend where girlfriends wipe off their boyfriend's kisses as like a joke/prank?? Imagine that with Clark Kent, omg he's so babygirl 😭😔
Where love lands
Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader
Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
a/n: I couldn't help myself and wrote two versions bc I kept thinking about the scene, one not metioning tiktok and the other mentioning the trend. Here are both because I couldn't choose!
Genre: Fluff
No spoilers for the film!
Total word count: 1.3k (V1 0.4k and V2 0.9k)
Version 1 (0.4k)
You were leaning against the kitchen counter when he walked in, glasses slightly fogged from the change in temperature, tie askew, coffee in hand and a grin that could light up Gotham.
"Morning, sweetheart," he said, leaning in and planting a warm kiss to your cheek before walking past you to grab a second mug.
You waited two beats, just long enough for him to feel safe. Then, with exaggerated flair, you reached up… and wiped the kiss off with the back of your hand.
Clark froze mid-pour and you could feel his confusion like a change in air pressure.
“…Did…did I miss?” he asked, already glancing down at his lips like maybe he somehow did it wrong. “Was that– was it scratchy? I shaved last night, I swear–"
You covered your mouth to hide your smile, but it was too late for him as his eyes already widened with full, horrified realization.
“Did you wipe it off?” he asked, aghast, like you’d just thrown the sun into a dumpster. “You wiped off my kiss?”
You turned dramatically away. “Sorry, I’m trying to keep my skin clean. Skincare is getting ridiculously expensive.”
“My kiss is clean! That’s all the skincare you need.” he insisted, voice cracking just a little as he stepped closer, looking tragically betrayed. “I’m basically cruelty-free! I–I’ve literally flown through fire for you and you’re worried about a little cheek grease?!”
You shrugged. “Guess I’m just not into PDA anymore.”
“Inside our house?…Do we have a roommate I don't know about? Wh–you just…yesterday morning you made me kiss you goodbye on Krypto’s forehead too.”
“Did I?” you asked, all innocence.
Clark looked like you’d personally sucker-punched his soft farmboy heart. He set the coffee pot down gently, like it might break under the weight of his sorrow.
He exhaled slowly before speaking. “Do you want me to leave? Because if that’s what this is about–”
You burst into laughter, grabbing his shirt and tugging him back toward you. “No! No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you’re too cute…come here.”
Except now he was pouting. Clark Kent, the Man of Steel, pouting like a kicked puppy. “I can’t believe you wiped it off. My love…gone, like chalk dust.”
“I was kidding!” you giggled, pressing kisses across his face. “See? I love your kisses.”
“You better,” he muttered, melting into your hands anyway, arms sliding around your waist. “You should be grateful I didn’t laser-eye the whole sink out of heartbreak.”
“Oh yeah?” You snorted. “Is that what they call emotional maturity on Krypton?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, finally grinning. “On Krypton we hold dramatic grudges and float away slowly while sad orchestras play.”
You nuzzled into his neck muttering more half-giggled apologies while he kissed the crown of your head repeatedly and of course, you didn’t wipe them off this time.
Version 2 (0.9k)
The apartment smelled like cinnamon and newsprint.
You were in the kitchen, half-focused on your cereal, swaying a little to the oldies station humming through the speakers when the front bathroom door creaked open, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone larger than life tiptoeing through the space like he didn’t weigh 230 pounds of muscle and space metal.
“Hey, baby,” Clark’s voice came, low and sleepy. His tie was undone, shirt collar open and hair still damp from a too-fast shower he must’ve taken after fighting crime before breakfast. “Didn’t expect you to be up.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, soft and sweet before continuing to the cabinet to grab his favorite mug. The one with a print of Kansas cornfields on it, chipped on the rim but he refused to let you throw it out.
You gave him two seconds, two full seconds of peace, before you slowly and dramatically, reached up… and wiped the kiss off your cheek with the back of your hand.
Dead silence followed and Clark paused mid-reach. “Did you just…?” He turned, blinking. “Was that...Did you wipe off my kiss?”
You gave a casual shrug, barely glancing at him. “Just trying to keep my skin clean.”
He stared at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, brow furrowing like you’d just slapped a baby bird. “But–but I’m clean.”
“Mhm...I’m sure you are but–”
“I brushed my teeth! And I used mouthwash. You see me floss every morning!”
You turned away with a hum, taking a sip of your coffee like this was just another Thursday. Clark took one slow, wounded step toward you. “I can’t believe this. You wiped it off… My love, my affection…just gone, tossed out like garbage.”
“I didn’t toss it,” you said sweetly. “Just…recycled it.”
“Don’t joke,” he said, horrified. “Do you want me to leave? Is that it? Is it because I crushed you while cuddling last night? Because if it is, I can sleep on the floor–”
You finally looked at him. His lips were pressed tight, brows pinched and his eyes were full of puppy-dog devastation. He looked like a man who had just watched a romantic movie get spoiled mid-airplane ride.
You cracked. “No! Clark, I was joking! I’m so sorry…well, you did crush me a little but you should know by now that you’re my favorite weighted blanket.” You laughed, grabbing his shirt to pull him close. “Gosh, I feel terrible! You look like I spit on your cape.”
“It felt like you did,” he muttered, arms looping slowly around your waist even as he pouted. “Do you know how many people wish they could get kissed by Superman?”
“I didn’t wipe off Superman’s kiss. I wiped off Clark Kent’s,” you teased.
“Oh great…much better. Kick the civilian while he’s down.” He gave an over-exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back like he was praying to the ceiling. “First I’m rejected, now I’m slandered.”
You gently grabbed both sides of his face, tilting his head down so you could kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“I’m six foot four and I cry while watching old Christmas movies, let me live.”
You buried your face in his chest, still giggling apologies.
He kissed the top of your head again softly and this time, you let it stay but your brain was already turning.
Later that night, after dinner, a movie and a cuddle-heavy couch session, you tested it again.
This time mid-forehead kiss as he reached across you for the remote.
You wiped it off in slow motion.
Clark gasped. “Again?!”
“It’s unnecessary exfoliation. I have sensitive skin!” you said, barely holding back a grin.
He narrowed his eyes. “You have a sensitive boyfriend too! What did he do to deserve this?”
You laughed so hard you could barely breathe. “It’s a trend, baby! It’s going viral on TikTok. I promise, you did nothing wrong.”
He blinked, confused. “…Why would anyone do that? What’s the joke? You’re rejecting love!”
Your body shook with laughter, so hard you nearly slid off the couch. He caught you mid-topple, strong hands grabbing your waist and gently placing you back on it. You barely had time to recover before he leaned in, bracing himself with one arm and settling his weight just enough to trap you beneath him.
His glasses were askew and his expression caught somewhere between a pout and a grin as he stared you down, breathless. His lips twitched.
“This is emotional terrorism,” he said, voice low and faux serious. “You’re terrorizing me.”
“Oh, c’mon Smallville.” You grinned.
“I’ve fought aliens with less cruelty,” he declared. Then, in a whisper, with his forehead dramatically on your chest he added, “My heart…”
You chuckled before leaning down and kissing the top of his head with a loud ‘mwah!’. “You’re so babygirl.”
“Don’t weaponize that word against me,” he grumbled, now looking into your eyes.
“I’d never,” you promised, grinning up at him.
He lifted your hand and kissed the knuckles, eyes still vaguely wounded but soft with forgiveness. “I’ll remember this.”
“Oh no,” you gasped. “What’re you gonna do? Kiss me so many times I can’t wipe them all away?”
His smile turned smug, dangerously smug. “Exactly.”
And of course he did, peppering your face with relentless, exaggerated kisses until you squealed and squirmed beneath him, the apartment ringing with your laughter, his muffled chuckles and the kind of love that felt both ridiculous and endlessly real.
