✧･ﾟ:clark’s a coddler. It doesn’t matter what kind of sex you were having—rough, slow, nothing but hand stuff or full, deep, thick rolls of his cock into your dripping pussy—Clark is going to treat it like you’re a fragile, priceless work of art that he just spilled all over. Baths, food, water, carrying you around like a princess; nothing is off the table. Not for you. Not to him. The whole world can wait until he’s made sure. You’re comfortable and safe.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
✧･ﾟ:he isn’t very insecure about anything, but he also finds it egotistical—in a way he never really wants to indulge—to have a “favorite part” of himself. If asked what his favorite part of you is, he’ll list things off until someone shuts him up. Your eyes that look at him like he’s the sun, your mouth that curves into the prettiest smile in the world, your hands that work so carefully on everything and fit perfectly in his, there’s no limit to your beauty. Not in his eyes. But that also means that if you push him for his favorite body part, he’ll cave just to make you happy. Giving the easy answer—his hands, because he knows you love them—just to shut you up and go back to singing your praises.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
✧･ﾟ:when he was younger, Clark was a little disgusted by his own anatomy. It was the least human part of him—visibly—and he thought it would make it harder for him to have intimate relationships with humans. When he came, it was brutal. So much of it that he didn’t even know what to do, and limited himself to jerking off in the shower to make the cleanup easier. Then he meets you, and learns that—for all your sweetness and clever talk—you’re a little bit of a fucking degenerate. You get on your knees and beg him to put it all on your face, and when he tries to tell you to stand up, that you don’t have to do that just for him, you glower and snap that you want to. And who is he, to ever tell you no?
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Since he’s supposed to be a good, well-raised, kind boy, Clark views most of his own desire as a dirty secret. He respects women, they’re for more than sex, and thinking of anyone like that makes him worry he’s no better than a man who can’t keep his dick in his pants. But that doesn’t stop the hunger. He craves it, craves you, so much that he has to just lock himself in the bathroom some days, to breathe through his nose and ride the hunger out. He wants to do things to you that are not progressive or nice. For such a good man, it sure does make his cock rock hard to think of manhandling you around and spitting in your mouth. Always the quiet ones, they say. And Clark sure does keep himself quiet, when he’s jerking off to the idea of marking you up and fucking you until the bed breaks.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Clark doesn’t really sleep around. It’s not his style. If he wants someone, he wants them entirely, and casual isn’t exactly viable when he has to worry about his powers. A hookup will notice the… not so small anatomical differences between him and a human. They’ll notice how they scratch his back and nothing happens, and the cum, and the other stuff. As such, Clark doesn’t have that high a body count, but he’s devoted. When he’s with you, he’ll memorize everything that makes you tic, and “experience” won’t be something you’re thinking about at all.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
There’s an animalistic part of Clark he controls almost everywhere. He’s not going to rut like a dog against your leg, he’s not going to bite near your neck or back you against the wall just to smell your neck. He’s controlled, in the daylight. But only in the daylight. When he’s got you in bed, there’s nothing he loves more than rolling you on top of him, pinning you down on his cock, and fucking up into you like a feral animal. It’s safer to go a little harder when you’re over him, and there’s nothing like watching your tits bounce in his face, feeling your thighs tremble around his waist, and knowing that between his hands and gravity, he’s deep enough inside of you that you can’t even form a sentence.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
The first few times, when he’s worried about breaking you, Clark is deeply serious. The idea of hurting you terrifies him, worse than a nightmare, and he holds you like you’re glass, brow knitted and jaw clenched as he tries not to let a single ounce of control slip. But then you get used to each other, and Clark gets less afraid, and it’s all jokes and smiles and kisses all over your face before he sheathes himself deep into your cunt. He might get more serious when you’re approaching orgasm, but the small smile never drops from his face. He’s not good at being serious when he’s comfortable, and he’s never more comfortable than when he’s with you.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Clark keeps everything about himself well groomed. It’s not something he actively even thinks about, just a way to feel a little more clean and human and collected. He’s got a decent bush and snail trail and scattered of hair on his arms and chest and legs. It’s warm and easy to curl into. You try to talk him into a beard to match the rest of it. He laughs and always says no, but you’ll get him one day. In the far, far future, you’ll get him.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
There might not be a more romantic man in the world. It’s not even something he puts a lot of effort into, that’s just the way he is. He kisses every inch of you he can reach, praises you with low, soft words that he means right now to the bottom of his heart, and chants that he loves you like a prayer until you fall over the edge together. He sees loving you as a proper form of worship, and there’s not really a better place to tend to the alter than when you’re this close. If he could, he’d keep you like that forever. Warm and loved and his.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He does it more than he ever wants to admit. He almost can’t help it sometimes, his cock aching with need, you not in arms reach, sweat beading on his brow and his hand mindlessly palming against his bulge. He learned how to take care of himself, when he was just pining after you from a distance. Sometimes he calls you, when you’re on a work trip, just to hear your voice and fuel himself for later in the shower. After you get together he does try to limit it, but he’s got a higher sex drive than a human and he doesn’t want to wear you out. Sometimes, when you’re spent on he’s still hard, you tell him to just jerk off over you and cum on your tits. He thinks you’re far too good to be real.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Clark doesn’t like admitting to most of his kinks, so you find out about them through observation. After months of being together, it occurs to you that he’s always rutting his cum into your cunt after, pressing you into the mattress with a hand splayed on your stomach and a focused knit in his brow. It’s after he fingerfucks his release back inside that you ask him if he’s got a breeding kink, and he blushes like a teenager caught with a porno magazine. He mumbles that it’s just an instinct he can’t help, and you kiss his pouting lips and tell him you like it. After that, he becomes insatiable about it, filling you up until your eyes are rolling back, until you’re worried that your birth control is going to be useless.
After the breeding, you notice that he grinds against you in his sleep, that you often wake up with his hand under your shirt and his cock pressed into your ass. You guide him up to your breasts, and murmur that if he just needs to take what he wants, you trust him. After that, you find yourself being woken up by soft kisses over your clit or his cock pressed into your pulsing cunt as he rolls slow, soft thrusts. You come apart as you wake up, smiling at him all dazed and sleepy, and he somehow never feels bigger.
Clark doesn’t even know he likes overstimulation until you ask him to do it. At first he thinks it would be cruel, but then you say you’d like it, and he always wants to do something you’d like. It’s fast after that, when he realizes that there’s nothing better than making you nonverbal and trembling, looking at him like a savoir even when he’s the one who tortured you in the first place. You keep pleading for him, even when you can’t raise a hand. Watching your whole body seize up and hearing your screams of his name when makes you cum again and again, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
For all of his dirty talk and filthy fucking, Clark really just wants to fuck in a nice, soft bed. To him, it offsets the borderline whore-ish way he’s treating you, and makes everything softer and more intimate. He spits in your mouth and tugs your hair, but you’re wrapped in his blankets and being fucked into a soft mattress that absorbs the force of every thrust. It makes it easier to clean you up after, when the bathroom is right down the hall and he can wrap you in a warm shirt after he turns you into a boneless, drooling mess.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
There’s a level of Clark that’s turned on by almost everything you do. Soft hands brushing on his arm and kisses to his cheek make his cock twitch. Watching you mouth off and boss him around makes his gut heat, and just a teasing smile makes his skin heat. But the thing that gets him going more than anything else is when you just stare at him. When he’s already got sweaty palms from proximity and you lean just an inch forward, tracing your fingers up his inner thigh, the engine already revving in your hungry gaze. He licks his lips, asking if you’re sure, even when he’s barely holding himself back. You nod, and all bets are off.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Clark will give it to you rough, but never too rough. He demands safe words, even when you’re barely doing anything, always worried that he’s going to snap you in half. You can talk him in to trying almost anything new, but he’s always going to be overly cautious. Most of his turn offs involve complete degradation, because while dirty talk and toying with you can be mixed with praise, treating you like trash just makes him feel too mean. It’s alright, though. He’s got a dirty enough mouth to fully make up for it.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
You on your knees for him is a dream he’s never been able to get out of his head. Your hands braced on his thighs, your eyes watering with the size of him being forced down your throat, it’s the one selfish thing he indulges. You love it too much for him to feel bad about it, grinding down onto his foot or a pillow between your thighs, maybe just the air as you beg and moan for friction. He cums down your throat and all over your face, and you never look prettier. He’ll grab you by the hair and pin you to the bed after, losing himself in the flood between your thighs, making you clench and gush and scream. You’re already on the edge from sucking his cock, and that just makes it all the better for both of you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Clark loves both, depending on what you beg for. Fast until the bed breaks and you’re choking on his name, or slow when he’s trying to worship your body and keep himself under control. Ironically, it’s when he has the most control that he fucks you like an animal, splitting you open on his cock, tossing you around, and making you suck on his fingers while he turns you into a gushing puddle. When he’s more unsure or on edge, he takes the time to use you to regain that semblance of control, kissing over your breasts and dragging his cock through your wet folds until you’re begging.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Clark doesn’t love quickies. He’s wants to give you his full attention when he touches you, and anything less than that feels disrespectful. However, if you give him full, begging doe-eyes, he’s doesn’t really have the power to deny you. He’ll use his fingers or mouth to get you off when you’re really desperate, taking you apart quickly and kissing your parted lips with a promise of more later. The real danger is when you don’t let that be enough, and the quckie is suddenly taking an hour.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
The only person that can talk Clark into experimenting is you, and it takes a lot of effort. Promises that you’ll be okay, that you know you’ll like it, that he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, but you think he’d like it to. He’s rarely the one receiving rather than giving, so his worry more comes from that fear that he’ll overexert you or cross a line. He wants to try choking or bondage or whatever, but he needs to really be sure that you want it to.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
All night. Every night. Another, secret benefit of the yellow sun. His stamina and durability go just as far in his sex life as they do everywhere else. He can go as long as you let him, fucking you for hours straight and never tapping out. If he’s trying to hold back, it’s mostly for the sake of not drowning you in his cum. He could reach his peak and still be harder than anyone else you’ve ever been with. It’s a perfect torture that you never want to lose.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
If Clark has toys, they’re only for you. He likes the remote vibrator more than he’ll ever admit, giving him a way to satisfy your needy pussy when he doesn’t have the time to take care of it himself. He can smell it from across the room, and feel that desperate, hopeful look raking over his body. He gives you a small smile and squeezes your thigh, and you whine. You’ll get the real thing the moment you’re alone, but this is almost better for him than it is for you, so he’s going to stretch it out.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Clark doesn’t know how to tease. He wants you, and he makes it obvious when he’s allowed. He goes to touch you because he needs to, and he never wants you to think he doesn’t just want to mold into you forever. If anything, all the teasing he does is completely by accident. Kissing you a little too deeply, squeezing your knee with only the intention of showing some affection, rolling up his sleeves in that damn white shirt, showing off the arms you want wrapped around your neck. Sometimes he just walks around the apartment naked, and acts like you’re the crazy one for getting worked up about it. He doesn’t see himself as the living wet dream that he is, sometimes forgetting that he’s 200 pounds of Kansas beef you want to shove your face into. HE gets sheepish when you remind him, and it’s adorable, right up until he fucks you like the dog he tries not to be.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s a whimperer when he’s in control, and shouter when he’s not. He worries that even too loud a sound will scare you, like you’re some woodland creature. You clench around him and roll your hips to pull out those deep, guttural moans. He sighs against your skin and groans with every thrust, and you think that just listening to him would be enough to get you off, all on it’s own.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
It takes a while to make him admit, but Clark’s a sucker for mutual masturbation. It’s a roll over from when he only allowed himself to beat his cock to the idea of you, trapping himself in the shower and moaning your name to the water. He likes studying how you pleasure yourself, watching you get wet from the sight of him touching himself, cumming all over you and then placing his face an itch from your dripping cunt, coaxing you into letting go with only praising words and encouragement. Sometimes he lays you down below him, just to watch you touch yourself for him. Thinking about you doing this alone, just for him, it’s enough to send him over the edge all on it’s own.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Alien dicks are real, and Clark is packing one. It’s so big you sometimes look at his pants and wonder how he even fits it in there. Veiny and curved, somehow still a grower despite being bigger than anyone else while soft. It’s a good thing Clark enjoys prepping you, because otherwise you’d never be able to take more than the tip. Sometimes he can’t even get halfway in before tears are stinging at your eyes, and he goes back to giving your clit more attention than you can take. At this point, you might be the number one customer of lube in the country, and that’s with Clark making you wet enough that you could take a fist.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
If you let him, he’d fuck you through a whole night, then another day, then a week. He’d never get anything done, if he indulged that side of him. He’d forget about being Superman, about saving the world, about doing anything but burying himself in your sweet little pussy and holding you close. At one point, he makes a rule for himself. Never more than nine times in a week, or he’ll forget why he ever even leaves your side in the first place.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Clark doesn’t need the same amount of sleep as a human, but he’ll lie in bed with you for as long as he can after. Petting your hair and kissing your brow, letting his eyes flutter shut until he’s called away, then right back once it’s taken care of. When he does sleep normally, it’s usually after you’ve worked him over and when the city is strangely quiet. When he’s truly exhausted—rare, but it happens—he sometimes goes over just to fuck you and give himself a good reason to sleep in your arms.
✦Clark Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦
✦Author's Note: i stand on him being filthy in bed and i will not back down✦
✦Buy me a coffee!☕️✦
And on tbst note of ovulation thoughts, I need to give Clark the sloppiest of sloppy toppy and then bounce on EXPEDITIOUSLY 
you missed the weight in your mouth. the way he throbs and slots that cock as deep inside a little past your tongue until you gag and tear up. it was mouth watering, literally and figuratively. enough to make you press your legs together, sucking on your thumb all day waiting for him to come home so you could yank his pants down and slobber all over what’s yours.
all day felt like a whole year, fingering yourself and rubbing your clit simply not enough to fill the void of your mouth you’ve craved to fill. texting clark little teasing messages, about how you miss his cock, how much you think about it, how you’re thinking about the last time a few days ago you had your throat down so far you were choking on it. of course he worried, pulled you back up by your hair, so scared with his little worried blue eyes making sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself just for the sake of his pleasure. but you had to tell him. it wasn’t always just for him, it was also for you.
you turned to biting your nails when the clock hit five, signaling that clark would be logging off his computer at work and heading home any moment now. you were frustrated, fixated, tapping your hands and shaking your legs while you wait for him to come home and smell his cock again, taste it, lather your tongue all over it and lighten up his fat sack that always looked like it needed a good milking.
clark was twenty minutes late, coming home with a little smile as he hung up his coat and said he’s sorry he got caught up talking about some nerdy comic books with jimmy - but you were hardly capable of paying any attention to the words coming out of his mouth before running over and kissing him, hard and fast. humming right in his mouth to lick on his tongue after hours of being deprived. the desperation in your gestures, grabbing at his shirt, at his arms, at his face. clark was taken aback by just how deprived you’d started acting. surprised but still delighted, he goes along with your quick pace and unbuttons his shirt.
“jeez, baby. could tell by your texts you were horny, didn’t know you’d crawl on me soon as I got back,” he chuckles. watches with amusement when you duck down and get down on your knees. his breathing is stuttered while he pulls you up and tries to lure you at least to the couch, not wanting you to hurt your knees on the hard floor.
“baby, come over here. I’ll give you everything you need…. I’ll let you have it. just come with me over here so you can be more comfortable. don’t want you on the floor.”
you wanted it so bad that honestly, being degraded by bowing down on the ground still sounded delicious.
“I missed you, I missed this,” you grab a hard hold onto his cock through his dress pants to demonstrate. “I missed having my mouth full. clark, clark. I need it,” you rush.
“okay honey, okay, I’ll give it to you. look. look. see? pants are coming off, let’s slow down a little—“
you don’t see any point in being slow after spending all day remembering every blowjob you’ve given him, how his cum dribbles and shoots down your throat, how he whimpers and whines out your name. going slow wasn’t an option after you chewed on your nails and even tried suckling down on one of your rubber dildos that still didn’t feel the same. they didn’t hold the same warmth, girth, smell, or veins as clark’s had. it didn’t fulfill the oral need that taunted you.
before clark could stop you his cock was already out, getting half-hard already despite his weak protests that you kiss a little more first. he has no means to stop you after seeing that hungry look in your eye and spitting up a glob of drool right on the head, stroking your spit down the long base and then ducking yourself to finally suckle down on the head exactly how you’ve needed. you hum in immediate satisfaction, sounding like you’re the one getting your cock sucked - while clark gasped out your nickname and paws at your hair while you gag when you slurp him down lower.
“oh my god, god you’ve been hungry,” he heaves. watched as you paid no mind, finding quick speed in gulping his dick down again, and again, and again. “you sure you don’t want me to go down on you first, honey? please, please don’t hurt yourself….”
“shhhh. just let me keep going and relax. enjoy it. I’ve been thinking about this all day, I wanna swallow your cum then you can eat my pussy as much as you want, okay?”
clark clenches his jaw and his eyes unconsciously roll back to his skull, mouth opening to breathe deep while he goes dumb when you lick a sensitive vein. he adamantly agrees to your plan, promising he’ll eat your pussy as soon as you swallow when he cums, which wasn’t going to be very long from how far her neck is going. she hums and chokes, drools and drags your tongue down every part of him - his balls, his base, his tip. she looks like she wants to eat his dick, slurp it clean off until it isn’t apart of his body anymore. it was an entirely new possessive side of you, a mood that you haven’t expressed like this before. continuously gagging, spitting up on him and then going on to suckle him some more like it hadn’t affected you in the slightest to gag and heave so hard on him he was scared his cock was hurting you.
after a few more short moments of you slobbering and deep necking him all the way down until your nose was nuzzling his little bush of pubes, he stutters a whine and then calls out your name. a long, drawn out squeal starts to leave his throat when you gag one more time.
“oh god… god, it’s, you’re making this impossible—“
“cum in my throat, I needed this. I thought about this all day,” you rasp, taking no time to stick your tongue out and slip him back between your lips, making out with a few inches past his tip and jerking the rest, giving your throat a much needed break.
“you want me to cum, honey? you—you want me to empty it all in your mouth? I’m gonna, I’m about to if you don’t stop,” he warns with a hiss. the picture perfect view was more than enough, but you’ve memorized his cock — every pressure point, every special little spot that made him tingle and leak. it’s not like clark’s anatomy was complicated. he was just huge, a mouthful, and you had more than enough to play with and lick on, and clark was always more than worried that you would throw up or give yourself lock jaw after being so stuck on pleasing him. pleasing yourself.
“you really needed this, baby girl, I know. I know. just suck it down, it’s coming, I’m cumming just for you — oh gosh —“
then it happened. the twitch, the burst, the fountain of cum slowly then speeding up pretty quickly to seep down her throat and coating her tongue, hot and salty and thick enough for you to wonder how it always comes out so heavy. clark could bust a nut every hour of every day and somehow the consistency never changes. it’s always long, hard, hefty. you love squeezing your pussy around him when he finishes, or licking and jacking him and trying desperately to catch any drips or remnants that might crowd her face or his lap. it was splash, after splash, after splash.
you whimper around him, the same way he is whimpering right above you, now trying to soothe the deep ache between your thighs with a palm right to your clit. and clark won’t let it slide for long as soon as he notices.
“no, uh-uh. I’m gonna do that.”
he reaches down and shoos your hand away from herself, cupping your pussy and soothing his thumb in little circles to feel your heartbeat going wild beneath his touch.
“poor little pussy,” clark coos, rubbing his hand back and forth. “I think you need to get in my lap. fill this pussy up. she’s aching.”
you swallow and lick up the last white, sticky leftovers that outline your lips and buck into his touch, letting him pick you up and sprawl your legs out on either side of him so you’re pressing against his cock that was still covered in all your spit.
“been aching so bad for this,” he kisses down your neck, whispering more pleas while he rocks you up against him, allowing you to completely relax and let your throat recover from the deep throating. “I need to take care of her. so take your panties off.”
. . .
yum I have been craving giving sloppy too I don’t know why it’s so gross but I want it so bad. NEED
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : being varka’s childhood best friend had always felt like a blessing. you grew up side by side, sharing victories, failures, and every milestone in between. through the years, he became your constant—the one person you could always count on. so when he suddenly told you a proposal during your college years, you agreed without a second thought. to him, it was a simple arrangement. to you, it became something much harder to let go of. after leaving without so much as a goodbye—without giving you anything to hold on to—he suddenly came back, standing at your doorstep as if no time had passed at all. how will things end out for both of you?
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : not proofread. fluff. angst. yearning final boss. suggestive themes, nothing too extreme. childhood best friends au. modern au. foul language used. possible ooc. varka is an aviator. reader is a nurse. unrequited love. promises. — art credits
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you stared at the full length mirror you had inside your room.
today’s the day.
you’d spent half of your day off thinking about what to wear and trying on outfits that you haven’t tried in a long while. you decided for a dress.
you wore a long ivory dress that hugged your figure just right, its open back and flowing shoulder drapes making every step look effortless. you had your hair neatly tied up in a bun, with a few loose strands framing your face.
as much as you wanted to skip the reunion, you couldn’t deny how much you missed your friends.
it had been years since you’d all been in the same room together. and months since you’d thrown yourself completely into work, picking up your coworkers’ shifts whenever you could just to earn a little extra.
somewhere between overtime and night duties, you realized that you had quietly disappeared from everyone else’s lives.
the get-together was set for dinner, and, much to everyone’s excitement, it was being held at wriothesley’s house.
according to navia, she was only co-hosting.
the real reason there was even a party in the first place was wriothesley himself, who had somehow managed to gather everyone under one roof after years of failed attempts.
you didn’t know much about wriothesley. but what you did know was that he was one of varka’s closest friends.
back in college, the two of them were classmates—both aviation majors. from what you’d heard, they became friends after running into each other at one of wriothesley’s friend’s birthday parties.
after that, they were practically inseparable.
which explained why you occasionally heard his name whenever you and varka hung out.
your stomach churned at the thought of seeing varka—and, by extension, all of his friends—again. you had to remind yourself why you agreed to come in the first place.
you were doing this for your friends—for navia. for the people you’d unintentionally drifted away from.
and certainly not for the man who still had the unsettling ability to make your heart forget every promise you’d made to yourself.
“(name)! rosaria’s here! don’t make her wait too long!” your father called from downstairs after spotting your friend pulling into the driveway.
you pushed every lingering thought to the back of your mind. there wasn’t any point dwelling on them now.
grabbing your bag, you hurried downstairs.
your father looked up the moment you reached the bottom step.
a soft smile spread across his face. “there she is.”
he looked you over for a second before chuckling, “it’s nice seeing you all dressed up for a change.”
you rolled your eyes, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.
“you look beautiful.. just like your mom.”
“thanks dad.” you hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.
“i was starting to think the only clothes you owned were your uniforms.”
you let out a quiet laugh, rolling your eyes at him, “very funny.”
he only grinned, clearly pleased he’d managed to make you smile. you slipped your shoes on and reached for the doorknob.
“i have to go, dad.” you glanced back over your shoulder. “i won’t stay out too late.”
“oh! please do!” he said with a warm smile. “just have fun.”
you nodded.
fun, huh?
you’d almost forgotten what that felt like. you could only hope tonight would remind you. despite everything.
despite who would be there, despite the memories waiting for you the moment you walked through those doors.
for once, you hoped the night would be kinder to you than the last few years had been.
the moment you saw your friend waving at you from behind the steering wheel, every doubt in your mind melted away.
a smile found its way onto your face before you could stop it.
maybe all you do need is to have a little fun with your friends.
you and rosaria spent the drive catching up on everything you’d missed over the years—work, life, the people who came and went, the ones who stayed.
apparently, lisa had to take care of an errand before heading to the party, so she’d already warned everyone that she’d be running late.
rather than making you wait, she asked rosaria to pick you up instead.
not that you minded.
if anything, you were grateful for the extra time to catch up with a friend you’d missed just as much.
you learned that rosaria had finally opened the bar she’d always talked about back in college. she now spent most of her days tending to it, serving drinks behind the counter she proudly called her own.
you couldn’t help but smile.
“i always knew you’d end up bartending,” you laughed.
rosaria smirked, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel.
“how about you? how’s being a nurse?”
“you don’t wanna know..”
she laughed at your evident distaste for her question.
“tiring?”
“i’m always exhausted!” you complained about your work and how you can never catch a break, even on day offs.
the conversation went from work to family, then music and favorite drinks.
your conversation came to an abrupt halt as rosaria slowed the car to a stop in front of a massive estate.
your eyes widened.
the house was enormous.
the kind of place that practically screamed old money and generational wealth.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.
wriothesley lived in a sleek, modern mansion tucked behind towering black gates. all concrete, steel, and floor-to-ceiling windows, the house looked intimidating from the outside, but the warm lights spilling through the glass made it feel surprisingly welcoming.
the wrought-iron gates slowly parted the moment rosaria’s car approached.
standing by the entrance was a middle-aged man dressed in a pristine black suit.
he offered the two of you a polite nod before stepping aside.
“welcome,” he said warmly, gesturing toward the driveway. “please, head on in.”
rosaria gave him a casual wave in return and drove through the gates.
manicured gardens stretched along the winding driveway, their flowers blooming in every color imaginable.
fountains shimmered beneath the evening sun, while towering trees lined the estate like silent guardians.
by the time the mansion came fully into view, you were beginning to understand why everyone made such a big deal about coming to this reunion.
the moment rosaria parked the car and the two of you stepped out, the same gentleman was already waiting nearby.
“right this way,” he said with a courteous smile.
he led you both along the stone pathway toward the mansion’s grand entrance, his pace steady and practiced.
the closer you got, the more imposing the house became.
you exchanged a glance with rosaria.
“you sure this is a house?” you whispered.
she snorted.
“i’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
behind the grand black doors, you could already hear the party in full swing.
laughter echoed through the walls, blending with the music that pulsed from inside.
every now and then, a chorus of cheers erupted, followed by the clinking of glasses and the familiar hum of dozens of conversations happening all at once.
you swallowed.
there was no turning back now.
“welcome to the party!”
the man of house greeted you in his low and smooth voice. every word rolled off his tongue with an effortless calm, warm enough to put people at ease yet deep enough to linger in your thoughts long after he’d stopped speaking.
you admitted, unable to tear your eyes away from the place.
everywhere you looked, there was something else to admire—the towering ceilings, the elegant interior, the warm lighting, and the countless little details that made the mansion feel grand without losing its charm.
“nice party, wrio,” rosaria commented, taking in the lively atmosphere around her.
wriothesley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“thanks. i’m just glad everyone actually showed up this time.”
“hard to say no when it’s at a mansion like this,” you teased, earning a laugh from both of them.
“i’m glad you two beautiful ladies could make it.”
his gaze lingered on rosaria first, effortlessly taking in the burgundy fitted midi dress that hugged her figure, the black leather jacket draped over one shoulder, and the ankle boots that completed her effortlessly cool look.
then his attention shifted to you.
it stayed there for a beat longer than expected.
“you’re (name), right?”
you blinked in surprise before giving him a small nod.
“that’s me.”
he smiled, extending a hand.
“finally nice to meet you. i’ve heard… quite a lot about you.”
for some reason, that made your stomach twist.
“good things i hope..” you laughed awkwardly. it was hard to imagine varka talking about you after everything that had happened.
surely it wasn’t him. for the sake of your own sanity, you convinced yourself someone else had mentioned you instead.
that explanation was much easier to live with.
after exchanging a few more words, wriothesley excused himself with an apologetic smile.
“duty calls,” he joked, gesturing toward the growing crowd gathering by the entrance.
“make yourselves at home.”
with that, he wandered off to welcome the next wave of guests, leaving you and rosaria to take in the lively atmosphere on your own.
“ah—almost forgot to tell you guys…” wriothesley suddenly said, stopping in his tracks as though the thought had just crossed his mind.
he leaned in slightly, pressing a finger against his lips with an almost conspiratorial grin.
“let’s keep this a secret.”
your stomach dropped.
“but the party’s also a welcome-home party for varka.”
“you know…” he chuckled. “since he only got back yesterday.”
the smile on your face froze.
of course it was.
rosaria seemed to notice the subtle shift in your expression after wriothesley’s words.
she didn’t ask. instead, she quietly slipped her hand around your wrist and gently guided you through the bustling crowd.
the music grew louder as the two of you weaved between clusters of laughing guests, all while rosaria searched for an empty table tucked away from the noise.
“come on,” she muttered. “let’s sit for a bit.”
your friends didn’t know what you truly felt for varka. you haven’t opened up about it since college. but they were smart enough to understand that something happened between the two of you.
i mean, who wouldn’t think that something’s wrong with the two of you when halfway through college, the once inseparable best friends ignored each other like the plague.
your friends didn’t pry. but they supported you in their own ways.
lisa, being the literature major she was, rarely showed up empty-handed.
more often than not, she’d arrive at your house with a novel tucked under her arm, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement.
she’d spend the next hour enthusiastically retelling the entire plot, scene by scene, somehow managing to make it sound even more interesting than the book itself.
and if you still refused to read it?
she’d come back the following week with another one, determined to convince you that this would be the story that finally got you hooked.
rosaria, on the other hand, had a habit of dragging you out for late-night drives whenever she felt like the two of you hadn’t talked in a while.
the destination never really mattered.
sometimes you’d end up parked by the roadside with the windows down.
other times, she’d pull into the nearest convenience store, and the two of you would leave with instant noodles, iced coffee, and far more snacks than either of you actually needed.
jean was the friend who always made time to study with you.
whenever take-home assignments started piling up, she’d quietly slide into the seat beside you, helping you work through them one by one.
and when anatomy exams rolled around, she’d spend hours quizzing you with flashcards until you could recite every muscle, bone, and nerve without even thinking.
and navia loved hosting sleepovers at her house.
she’d somehow convince all of you to stay the night, insisting it would be “just one movie,” only for everyone to end up talking until sunrise.
she especially loved doing your hair.
whether it was braiding it, curling it, or trying out a hairstyle she’d seen online, she’d happily sit behind you for what felt like hours while chatting about absolutely everything.
you were forever grateful that you found friends like them.
“HEY GUYS! I MISSED YOU!”
navia shouted as she excitedly ran over to where you and rosaria were sitting. she was wearing a champagne gold off-the-shoulder satin dress that flowed gently below her knees. she pairs it with pearl drop earrings and delicate gold bracelets. her honey-blonde hair falls in soft curls, and she wears a warm vanilla perfume that lingers after every hug.
you smiled at her after you hugged, muttering a soft ‘i missed you’.
“so were you ever going tell us that this party was also a welcome-home party for varka?” rosaria asked, her arms crossed as she looked at navia, waiting for an answer.
“what?” navia frowned, immediately pulling out her phone. “that wasn’t part of the plan.”
she scrolled through her messages with wriothesley before turning the screen toward the rest of you.
“…see?”
she wasn’t wrong.
there wasn’t a single message mentioning a welcome-home party.
in all honesty… you didn’t mind anymore.
you were exhausted.
not physically this time, but emotionally.
you’d spent years avoiding him and it was tiring.
if tonight was meant to celebrate his return… then so be it.
you weren’t going to spend the entire evening hiding from someone who had already occupied enough of your life.
“guys, i’m alright, i swear!”
their eyes immediately shifted to you. both of them wore the same look of quiet concern, carefully studying your face for any sign that you weren’t being truthful.
it was obvious they didn’t know whether to believe you.
“i came here for you guys, remember? i’m gonna have fun either way.”
“now that’s what i like to hear.”
you barely had time to turn before lisa and jean made their way over, bright smiles already on their faces.
lisa was the first to wrap you in a tight hug, with jean following close behind, laughing softly as she joined in.
“i missed you, cuties!”
lisa was wearing a dark plum satin dress with a modest side slit and elegant draping. she kept her accessories minimal—a gold bracelet, thin necklace, and a vintage watch—letting the rich color speak for itself.
“how’s the party going?”
while jean was wearing a dusty blue satin a-line dress with three-quarter sleeves and a modest neckline. she wears nude heels and a matching clutch, finishing the look with natural makeup and soft curls tucked behind one ear.
“good so far!” you answered with a genuine smile.
and you meant it.
despite finding out the party was also meant to welcome a certain someone home, the atmosphere remained surprisingly light.
people were laughing, music hummed softly in the background, and conversations flowed as if no time had passed between old friends.
you almost forgot why your heart had been so restless the moment you stepped through the front door.
all of your friends are fabulously beautiful AND effortlessly smart.
lisa mentioned finishing her PhD in english, jean was studying nonstop for a masters degree in nursing, navia was working side by side with her father at their business, and rosaria, as she opened her own bar, she was also working hard enough to afford her little brother’s tuition fee.
you were lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful and talented women in your life.
the music gradually faded into the background as a light tap echoed through the speakers.
wriothesley stood at the center of the room with a champagne flute in one hand and a microphone in the other.
“can i steal everyone’s attention for a minute?”
the chatter slowly died down, every pair of eyes turning toward him.
“first of all,” he began with an easy smile, “thank you all for coming tonight despite your busy schedules. i know some of you even had to clear your calendars just to make it.”
a chorus of laughs and playful complaints rippled through the crowd.
he chuckled along with them before raising his glass.
“now… i’d like to welcome home a very dear friend of mine.”
his grin widened.
“he just got back yesterday.”
he paused dramatically. “still as handsome as ever, unfortunately.”
the room immediately erupted into murmurs.
“who’s he talking about?”
“is it really him?”
“no way…”
“i heard he finally came back.”
“about time.”
your heart pounded so hard you were certain the people standing beside you could hear it.
your stomach twisted into uneasy knots. every muscle in your body tensed as if it already knew what was about to happen.
you tried to steady your breathing. tried to convince yourself it was just another moment.
just another introduction.
but your body had always reacted to him long before your mind could catch up.
then wriothesley lifted his arm, pointing somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
your breath caught. you didn’t want to look. you told yourself not to.
but your eyes betrayed you anyway, instinctively following the direction of his finger.
there he was.
lounging casually on a couch across the room, one arm resting along the backrest.
wriothesley raised his champagne glass with a grin.
“welcome home, my dear friend.”
the room erupted into applause and several cheers here and there.
“enjoy your stay…”
he laughed.
“and please, for everyone’s sake…”
“make good decisions.”
the crowd laughed along.
varka merely shook his head with an amused smile before lifting his own glass in acknowledgment.
then.. his eyes wandered across the room.
and landed on you.
you didn’t smile. you couldn’t.
the moment your eyes met his, you quietly looked away as though nothing had happened.
it was easier to pretend he was just another face in the crowd than risk getting tangled up in him all over again.
so much for telling yourself you were done running.
so much for believing you could finally face him.
because the truth was.. some habits were far harder to break than others.
especially when they were built to protect a heart that had already been broken once.
after wriothesley’s speech, the conversation gradually returned to normal.
music filled the room once more, laughter echoed from every corner of the mansion, and glasses clinked as guests resumed enjoying the evening.
you spent another hour catching up with the girls, sharing stories that somehow made it feel as though no time had passed at all.
eventually, however, the five of you decided to split up and enjoy the party at your own pace.
navia wandered off to greet more guests, effortlessly slipping back into her role as co-host.
rosaria disappeared toward the game room after spotting a pool table and immediately declaring she’d “only be gone for one match.”
lisa and jean claimed one of the quieter couches in the living room, content to nurse their drinks while chatting away.
which left you alone for the first time since arriving.
you weren’t really in the mood to mingle.
well.. not yet, at least. your social battery had already taken enough hits for one evening.
figuring a little time alone would do you some good, you quietly slipped away from the crowd and made your way toward the bar tucked into the corner of the room.
the bartender greeted you with a polite smile.
“what can i get you?”
your eyes wandered over the bottles neatly displayed behind the counter before settling back on him.
“surprise me,” you replied with a tired smile.
if there was one place in the mansion where you could disappear for a little while…
it was here.
or so you thought..
“this seat taken?”
you froze. every muscle in your body locked in place the instant you heard that voice. your breath caught in your throat as your fingers instinctively tightened around your glass.
without even looking in his direction, you knew he was referring to the empty bar stool beside you.
you let out a quiet breath before taking another sip of your drink.
“…no, apparently,” you replied dryly.
a beat of silence followed.
then, without waiting for your permission, the stool beside you scraped lightly against the floor as he took the seat anyway.
“whiskey, please. neat.” the bartender nodded and started making his drink.
“your parents said you’re a nurse.”
“i studied to be one.”
“how is it?”
you gave a small shrug.
“exhausting.”
you swirled the drink in your glass absentmindedly.
“tiring.”
“but?”
the single word made you pause.
a faint smile tugged at your lips as you lowered your gaze to the amber liquid in your hands.
he used to do that all the time whenever he knew you were only telling him half the truth.
he’d always wait for the but.
“…fulfilling,” you admitted quietly.
when you finally glanced sideways, you caught the small smile that spread across his face.
you should’ve ignored him. you should’ve walked away the moment he asked about the empty stool. you should’ve made up an excuse and gone back to where your friends were.
you should’ve done anything but this.
and yet, you’re sitting beside the very man you’d spent years trying to forget. letting the conversation flow as though no time had passed between you.
before you could stop yourself, you found your curiosity slipping past the walls you’d worked so hard to build.
“…what about you?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass.
“how have you been?”
for a brief moment, varka looked genuinely surprised. his brows lifted ever so slightly as he turned to face you.
he’d been expecting the usual questions:
how’s work?
how was flying?
what have you been up to all these years?
instead, you’d asked about him. not his career or his accomplishments.
just… how he was.
the realization softened his expression.
a quiet smile tugged at the corner of his lips—small, almost disbelieving.
“…i’m alright,” he answered after a moment.
his gaze lingered on you before dropping to the glass in his hand.
“better now, i think.”
the words were spoken so softly that you almost wondered if he meant for you to hear them at all.
silence followed, once again.
“why are you here, varka?”
he frowned slightly, clearly caught off guard.
“…wrio invited me—”
“no.” you cut him off before he could finish.
your eyes remained fixed on the drink in your hands as your thumb slowly traced the rim of the glass.
the music around you suddenly felt impossibly distant.
after a long moment, you finally lifted your head.
your eyes met his—steady and unwavering.
“…why are you here?”
the question wasn’t about the party, both of you knew that.
it wasn’t about wriothesley, or the mansion, or even the welcome-home celebration.
that wasn’t what you meant.
what you wanted to know was why was he here?
why was he sitting beside you after years of silence?
what exactly did he want from you now?
varka held your gaze for a long moment, searching for an answer that never seemed to come.
instead, he looked away. his fingers tightened around the whiskey glass before he brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip.
“…can’t i talk to my best friend?” his voice was quiet. barely above a whisper. he let out a small, humorless laugh to himself.
“best friend…”
the words echoed painfully in your mind.
right. that was all you’d ever been to him.
never the person who waited for his calls.
never the person who silently loved him for years.
never the person he once looked in the eyes and made promises to that felt so real, you built your future around them.
never the person he chose to stay for.
just the best friend he left behind without a goodbye.
and after all the unanswered questions, the distance, the years apart—were you even allowed to call each other that anymore?
“we’re not kids anymore, varka. some people just.. grow apart.”
he listened intently to what you were saying. eyes still fixated on his drink.
“and we just happen to be those people..”
“(name)–”
“varka? there you are! i thought i lost you! this place is massive!”
you turned toward the unfamiliar voice.
standing a few steps away was a woman with warm, sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow beneath the soft lights of the mansion.
she wore a flowing ivory dress that moved gracefully with every step, the delicate layers gathering around her legs before cascading into a sheer train that swept lightly across the floor.
there was an effortless elegance about her. the kind that didn’t demand attention—yet somehow captured everyone’s.
for a moment, you simply stared. she looked as though she’d stepped straight out of a dream.
who was that woman? you didn’t know. and perhaps, you didn’t want to.
but you couldn’t ignore what you’d seen.
the way she reached out and rested a hand on varka’s shoulder so naturally. so comfortably, like it was second nature.
like she’d done it countless times before.
you swallowed the lump forming in your throat and forced yourself stay composed.
it wasn’t your place to wonder, anyway.
her eyes moved from varka to you, then back to him.
a curious smile tugged at her lips.
“…am i interrupting something?”
she glanced between the two of you again, clearly noticing the heaviness hanging in the air.
“eleneaor…” varka began, sounding almost frustrated by the interruption.
“no,” you answered before he could continue.
you offered the woman a small, polite smile.
“i was just about to look for my friends.”
without waiting for either of them to stop you, you stepped away from the bar, leaving the two of them alone.
you turned back just enough to steal one last glance at him.
for a split second, your eyes met.
you could’ve sworn his lips parted. could’ve sworn you saw him mouth your name, as if he wanted you to stay.
your feet almost stopped. almost.
but you forced yourself to look away and kept walking.
a/n: HI LOVES !! sorry for the late update 😞✌🏻 but here’s part 2 !! hehe part 3 will be posted soon. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS SO FARR?? hehehe
A/N: This is not beta read. I am posting this on a whim. I hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry if it sucks.
It's not like you hated Superman; in fact you found his commitment to humanity to be honorable.
It's just your cat didn't like him, and you trusted your cat's judgment. It was also your boss, Lex Luthor, who hated Superman, so liking him couldn't exactly be possible unless you wanted to be fired.
Your friend Clark, however, loved the superhero. You were pretty sure they were friends, although that was supposed to be a secret, you think. He also hated your boss; well, in his words it was more of a dislike, but everyone knew that was a lie.
Your other friend Lois had mixed reviews. She always said he was flawed as a superhero, that he made mistakes and needed to be held accountable for them, which you agreed with.
All in all, the people in your life had many different opinions on the man, but what you never expected was to meet him.
You found him in an alleyway, beaten up, bloody, and bruised. It was the afternoon, and you were pretty sure there was some sort of world-ending issue happening on the other side of the city. If the light show happening in the distance didn't already clue you in.
"Are you okay?" stupid question, but you still felt as though you should ask, just to be polite.
He groaned, coughing up blood, which was an obvious concern. "I'm fine." He tried to speak, but it only came out as a painful sort of groan. "Yep, totally fine." Blood coated his teeth, and you physically winced at the sight of his blood.
Oh no, this was serious. What do you do? Call for help? But that would mean revealing his and your location, and you had no idea if whatever, or whoever, caused those injuries was looking for him. So you guessed it was just you and him.
"I really don't think you are, sir." You hurried toward him, your hands already sifting through your tote bag to grab the small first aid kit you ordered off Amazon just in case an alien attack happened and you needed medical supplies, because yes, that was a very real possibility.
"You don't have to call me 'sir'; it makes me feel old," he groaned, and you knelt down, leaning forward as you opened the first aid kit, and set it down beside him.
He was lying on his side, curled up protectively in a ball like he was trying to hide away from the world, which you couldn't really blame him for wanting. His suit was all cut up, and the infamous symbol on his chest was now stained with specks of his blood. "I'm going to help you, but I need you to sit up so I can have a better look at your injuries."
"Okay, yeah, that sounds great."
You reached out, and he groaned in pain as you managed to take most of his weight and help him up. He practically collapsed against the wall, his head lolling back and resting against the concrete.
Oh, the poor thing. Whatever happened to him must've been bad to cause this much damage.
"Wow, that, uh, looks bad."
"Thank you for the compliment. You look great."
Clark was right; he really was charming, but now wasn't the time. You reached for your first aid kit, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.
"I'll be okay." You looked down and then back up. You highly doubted that with the way he looked.
"You're quite literally bleeding out."
"The sun," he said, nodding toward the flaming star in the sky. "It heals me."
He was right. The cut on his forehead was already closing up. You would be amazed, but to be honest, you had seen much cooler things. It was still impressive, though. You would give him that.
"So what, I'm just supposed to leave you here and let you heal?"
"Preferably, yes."
"I'm sorry if that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence," you blankly stated, quite frankly unimpressed. How were you supposed to just walk away while knowing he was in this alleyway, waiting while he painfully heals?
He chuckled, although it sounded more like a wheeze if anything. "Yeah, I should have expected that. Clark told me you were stubborn."
"I knew it; you guys are friends!"
"You could say that," he shrugged, and he raised a brow as you collapsed next to him, sitting down crisscross-applesauce beside him.
"Soooo." You glanced around the alleyway, taking things in, doing anything to avoid the superhero's gaze burning into your skin. "Clark talks about me?"
Superman smiled, noticeably without the blood this time, and nodded. "All the time."
"Do you like Star Wars?"
"Of course, who doesn't like star wars?" Nevermind. You take back everything you once said about him. Superman was amazing and obviously the superior hero.
"Favorite character, go." Look, you just had to know. I mean, who wouldn't want to know Superman's favorite Star Wars character?
His brows pinched together as he thought over his answer. "Oh, dang, um, I'll have to go with the OG Luke Skywalker." A good choice. Classic.
"I think you two would get along," you stated.
"You really think so?"
"I don't know. It's just the vibes you give off, like sunshine and rainbows."
"Sunshine and rainbows?" He echoed the words like he couldn't believe them, which was weird because he definitely gave off the sunshine and rainbow vibes, and everyone knew it.
"Can I ask what did this to you?"
"I'm going to be honest here; I have no idea. It's all a blur."
Well, that was concerning. "And you're sure the sun will fix all—" You gestured to him and his still half-beaten-up body. "Of that."
"Yep." He popped the 'p' like it was nothing.
"Your poor suit…"
He shrugged. "It'll get fixed. Always does."
"You are being way too chill about this. It's kind of concerning. Are you sure you're okay?"
That earned you a laugh, a real bright laugh that could light up a room. See? Sunshine and rainbows.
"I appreciate the concern, but yes, I am fine er, well, at least I will be in a couple of minutes." He winced as he adjusted his body into a more comfortable position. From what you could see he was indeed healing. The bleeding had clearly stopped, and all of his cuts and bruises were gone. Whatever was left to heal must've been internal.
"And you're gonna go back?"
He really shouldn't, in your opinion, but you knew either way he would. It was just in his nature to help. Even when it got him hurt.
"I have too," he answered, and you watched as he finally managed to stand up.
"Well, I'll be here if you need anything."
He chuckled, amusement flashing across his face. "Thank you," his voice softened, emotions flooding through him.
"You would do the same for me," you shrugged as if it were nothing.
It was everything.
You watched in silent awe as he floated off the ground, and he gave one final wave before shooting up into the sky.
pairing: husband!simon riley x wife!reader (call of duty)
genre: angst
warnings: mild profanity, divorce themes, no emotional resolution
word count: ~500
summary: you ask simon for a divorce.
a/n: this idea has been tormenting me for days so now you have to suffer with me. also i have so many more ideas for this theme so if you don't absolutely hate me for this lmk :)
────────────
you slide the papers across the kitchen table.
simon feels the blood rush to his head as he reads the title.
petition for dissolution of marriage.
he doesn’t reach halfway for it. he doesn’t look up at you. he rereads the title one time. two times. he even reads the contents to make sure he’s not imagining things.
“...what is this?” he rasps, staring at the papers.
you sit across the table from him, arms wrapped around your torso.
“you know what it is,” you whisper, throat too tense to speak any louder. “we’ve had this conversation a hundred times already.”
his eyes glisten under the kitchen light as he finally looks up at you.
“but why, love?” he leans forward, closer to you, refusing to acknowledge the papers between you. “just tell me what i did—i’ll fix it.”
beneath the table, his hands are shaking.
“tell me what needs to change and i’ll do it,” he continues, voice cracking. “just…don’t do this.” he finally reaches out for the papers, only to slide them away.
“i’m so tired of doing this.” your hand comes to your mouth to stifle a sob.
“i know, baby, but we can fix this. i can fix this.” he leans in, trying to catch your gaze just once.
you run a hand over your face, letting out a shaky exhale. “can you…god—can you just sign it? please?”
he doesn't move from where he sits. he doesn’t reach out for you, even though he wants to more than anything.
“no.”
you sigh.
“i'm not signing that fucking paper.”
“si—” your voice breaks as you let out another sob. you bury your face in your hands.
hearing that name from you, he swears he’s going to be sick.
“no, sweetheart, please—please look at me,” he pleads.
you wipe stubbornly at your eyes. “stop.”
“please. just look at me.”
he opens his hand across the table, not touching you, just open, waiting for you to bridge the gap and come to him the same way you had thousands of times before today.
you sit just out of his reach, a tear escaping despite your best efforts.
then, you stand, nudging the paper closer to him, ignoring his open hand. you hesitate just a moment, willing yourself not to look at him.
“i’m going out,” you choke. you don’t say where. you don’t say with who, or even when you’ll be back. “call me when you’re done.”
he watches every movement as you go. you fish your keys from your pocket and pick up your full bag by the door.
his gut twists again as the realization settles in. you packed. you planned for this.
a moment later, the front door slams shut. he doesn’t chase you, even though every instinct in him is screaming to.
the engine of your car starts. it feels like the wind has been punched out of his lungs.
simon sees your headlights disappear down the road, and only then does he realize his hand is still outstretched, reaching for you, waiting.
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : being varka’s childhood best friend had always felt like a blessing. you grew up side by side, sharing victories, failures, and every milestone in between. through the years, he became your constant—the one person you could always count on. so when he suddenly told you a proposal during your college years, you agreed without a second thought. to him, it was a simple arrangement. to you, it became something much harder to let go of. after leaving without so much as a goodbye—without giving you anything to hold on to—he suddenly came back, standing at your doorstep as if no time had passed at all. how will things end out for both of you?
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : not proofread. fluff. angst. yearning final boss. suggestive themes, nothing too extreme. childhood best friends au. modern au. foul language used. possible ooc. varka is an aviator. reader is a nurse. unrequited love. promises. — art credits
prologue ⊱ ۫ ׅ series m.list ⊱ ۫ ׅ main m.list ⊱ ۫ ׅ next
catching feelings are completely avoidable. catching feelings for varka, however, is inevitable.
in your defense, who wouldn’t be head over heels for him? you’re convinced that anyone who isn’t in love with varka simply hasn’t met him. because surely, anyone who spent even a single day by his side wouldn’t stand a chance.
varka wasn’t a good looking kid, he was far from it actually. not to mention he was always doing some shit like picking his boogers and wiping it on your shirt. or the time he actually bit your senior dog’s ear because you complained that it had scratched your leg.
the dog, understandably offended, scratched his cheek in retaliation. when you asked him what on earth he was thinking, he simply shrugged.
“it was revenge for you.” you laughed so hard you nearly forgot you were supposed to scold him.
he was a strange kid, no doubt. but a sweet one nonetheless.
he always made sure you ate on time. no matter how busy he was, he’d pick you up, drive you on his yamaha ténéré 700 wherever you wanted, and make sure you got home safely.
in every little way, varka treated you like royalty. like you were his princess and he was your knight. you always did thank him for that, and he’d only reply with “that’s what friends are for.”
he’s the kind of person who shows up when you’re struggling, remembers the little things, and never hesitates to lend a hand. that’s who varka was and you loved him even more for it.
now, before you start convincing yourself that all his sweet gestures and heartfelt words mean something more, you might want to think again. because that’s just… him. he treats everyone with the same warmth.
classmates, friends, family, batch mates—you. freaking. name. it.
while you felt like you were his one and only princess, he’s everyone’s knight in shining armor.
so, you made a choice.
you buried your feelings where they couldn’t get in the way.
if it ever came down to protecting your heart or protecting the friendship, you’d choose the friendship every single time.
twenty plus years wasn’t something you could gamble away over feelings he never asked for and wasn’t responsible for.
loving him silently was painful, but losing him entirely would be unbearable. unfortunately, you learned what both felt like.
“oh c’mon! isn’t this your favorite? i even got you their limited edition toppings!”
you rolled your eyes playfully at his whining. it was nighttime and you were sitting down on the freshly cleaned floor of your own room. varka held a mini cake of your favorite flavor with what he claimed to be.. limited toppings? you didn’t even know that existed in bake shops.
you were both still in your school uniforms. varka had insisted on changing later, saying the cake was going to melt.
and whose fault is that? you wanted to ask. he was the one who bought it the moment his classes ended. it would’ve been fine if he’d taken you straight home.
instead, he spent the afternoon driving you around town on his motorbike, stopping by all your favorite places as if he had all the time in the world—completely forgetting the poor cake balanced between the two of you.
so there you were, facing him as he held a slightly lopsided cake balanced carefully in his hands. a few candles—clearly stuck in at the last minute—flickered gently atop the uneven frosting.
despite its messy appearance, varka looked impossibly proud.
his eyes sparkled with childlike excitement as he waited for you to blow out the candles, smiling as though this imperfect little celebration was the greatest thing he’d planned all day.
“you gonna blow it or what?”
“eww varka! the fuck? don’t say it like that!”
“like what?! im just asking if you’re ready to blow it!”
you would’ve thought he had no idea what he was doing—if it weren’t for the shameless smirk tugging at his lips, paired with the unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes.
he knew exactly what he was doing. and he enjoyed every second of teasing you.
“well? are you ready to bl–”
you blew the candles before he could finish what he was going to say. he laughed and set the cake aside for a while before tackling you into a warm embrace, in which you gladly reciprocated.
even when you were still little, both of you loved hugging each other. and it made your heart whole every time.
“am i interrupting something?”
you quickly turned at the familiar voice, only to find your mother standing there with a sheepish smile, two bottles of beer in each hand.
“…wait,” you blinked. “don’t tell me it’s beer night?”
varka chuckled before finally letting go of you, walking over to your mother to take the bottles from her hands.
“looks like it is,” he grinned.
“yup! figured it’s the perfect night for it! except her father won’t be able to make it tonight. had a few people booking him for a drive.”
you sighed in relief at the thought of your father still at work, not because you dislike him or anything, but because beer night is a family tradition that him and varka especially, loved participating in.
they would spend the entire evening ‘til sunrise just downing a couple of bottles like there’s no tomorrow.
it’s where everyone drinks together and play games or ask deep and thought provoking questions. for fun! or to get to know more about the person.
no time or date, just whenever everyone feels like it.
today, though, it was only you and varka.
“already called your parents, by the way! they’re on their way here! i suggest you lock the door and if you’re.. you know, feeling adventurous, don’t forget to wear cond—”
“that won’t be necessary, mom!” you yelled at her with a horrified face, embarrassed at the words that were coming out of her mouth.
varka only laughed harder and went back to his spot in front of you when your mom finally left the room.
truth be told, you hated it whenever varka drank.
it wasn’t that you disliked alcohol—you drank from time to time yourself.
what you couldn’t stand was the way he and your father treated it like a competition, downing bottle after bottle until someone eventually called it a night.
it was reckless. unhealthy. and no matter how many times you told them so, neither of them ever seemed to listen.
as varka crouched down to set the bottles on the floor, he caught the look on your face.
his smile softened.
“…don’t look at me like that,” he laughed quietly. “i’ll behave tonight.”
“i don’t think you will.” you teased. hoping he wouldn’t say anything weird or out of the blue while drinking. you can’t handle any more of his playful remarks.
too bad for you, though.
because as the night wore on and the bottles slowly emptied, you heard words you never expected to come out of varka’s mouth.
one so ridiculous, so impulsive, that any sane person would’ve laughed it off. instead, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.
“..marry me at thirty, (name).”
𝒂/𝒏 : new series !!! varka my mannnnn 🫶🏻 so in love with him brooo. also i know i still haven’t finished updating the lohen fics 🥹🫶🏻 just wanted to get this idea out hehehe but i’ll soon post the continuing parts
AAAAAND !! next chapter of this series will be posted tomorrow 😚
varka. oh varka. my whole account is varka. please give me other characters to write about. or asks. i beg.
varka an eater. like. ridiculously passionate eater. he the type to groan into the pussy while he’s eating it. not only that he knows what to do. he pays attention to your body, how it moves and the noises you make when he does specific things… and he does those things more.
the first time you fuck him, he’s gentle. he goes slow and easy. he doesn’t want the experience to be over too quickly, which is why he focuses his energy into foreplay the most. he wants to make sure you’re ready.
but after that, he knows what gets you. he knows what makes your body tingle and he knows how to work you to get you begging. many people think he’s not smart, mostly brawn. but if you know him… behind the silliness he’s intelligent. emotionally and mentally, he’s just very smart. so he knows and he knows how to get you begging.
he absolutely loves dragging it out. when you’re horny and you haven’t seen him in a while, he touches you, but not the way you want him to. you’ve built enough confidence to tell him what you want and how you want it, but varka loves making you wait. and he does. he edges you, and talks you through it when you finally cum.
“oh… there you go. yeah? is that what you needed? aw. you hate it when i edge you? too bad. i’m gonna do it again… and again. i’ll stop when neither of us can take any more.”
Maintenance & Cuddles
Starlight - Billy Kid X Reader
He just loves his alone time with you; so much that he even considered general maintenance as a fun activity to do together.
-
"Man, you want some alone time with me so badly you forgot about my burgers." You said with a smile.
"Ah! Right! S-sorry~" He chuckled sheepishly.
"Don't worry, they're probably not back yet anyway, so I'm sure you'll have plenty of alone time with me back at yours, you sap."
tags~ fluff, established relationship, tickling, construct x human
y/n~ gender neutral, sniper by occupation, ether element, ler
w/c~ 4.9k
a/n~ work has been kicking my ass lately but i still managed to finish this fluffy lil number here 💜
"What do you mean I don't get to come with you for burgers?" You whined, throwing yourself onto the couch of the Cunning Hares' home.
"Cuz this commission calls for us to send our best, which would be you two." Nekomata told you while pointing to you and your partner Billy.
"Tsk, if Nicole were here…" You mumbled into the cushions.
"She would agree with me and send ya anyway! Billy just got a sick new upgrade, and you're one of the most dangerous snipers on the interknot." She countered.
"And why can't we send Anby??" Billy raised, trying to help you out a little.
You all turned to Anby to see her sitting quietly by the door, not paying any attention at all until she heard her name. "Mmm… Burger…" Was all she said in the softest voice imaginable, still absently staring around the room.
"Do you really want me to tear a soul like that away from her burgers?" Nekomata said pointedly.
"Ugh, fine." You groaned. "You tried babe; thank you for your efforts to try and get us out of this one."
"We're stuck with all the work once again." Billy sighed. "We're just too good."
"Apparently." You chuckled, sitting yourself upright on the couch. "Which hollow does this commission take place in again? You've got the file, I hope."
"It's in the Ballet Twins Hollow." She answered, simultaneously sending you a message with all the details.
"Oh lovely. Great memories there." You groaned. "And the commission type?"
"Resource recovery, so not the worst!" Nekomata said, tying to make it sound better than it was. "Just a couple ethereals got in the way of a transport and now they're guarding the abandoned resources… no biggie, right?"
You could see Billy light up a bit from where you sat, clearly loving the sudden title assigned to the two of you. His joy was your joy, a long sigh escaping you as you crossed your legs and looked over at Anby.
"You owe me two burgers when you guys come back." You then requested. "With a side of fries, untouched by the seagulls."
Anby smiled. "Easy enough. I've got you covered."
"Oh so all it takes to get you to agree is some sweet talk huh?" Nekomata huffed with crossed arms.
"Yeah, and you need to be good at it for it to work." You told her with a cheeky glance.
"Oooo." Billy gasped. "My baby has some sass today."
"Hey! Are you sayin' I'm bad at sweet talk?!"
"Well I didn't say you were good, silly~" You teased.
"Ugh! Go have fun in the hollow while we go get some burgers at the port." She huffed. "C'mon Anby, let's go!"
You waved the girls off as they left the room, leaving you alone with Billy once again. With another sigh and a bit of a chuckle, you looked back up at Billy and shook your head.
"It's business over burgers for us, it seems." You said with a shrug.
"It sucks, but duty calls. We are the best after all." He said confidently, posing coolly for a moment.
"Yes, yes we are, silly." You laughed. "Now help me up so we can get our guns and go. I still haven't seen you in action in the hollows since your upgrades."
"Ooo, you're right, you haven't." He said as he took your hands and pulled you to your feet. "You're gonna love the new gun I have."
"C'mon, show me!"
The two of you ran off to his room where he safely stored all this most precious belongings; you noticed a much newer case leaning against the wall at the foot of his bed. He walked towards that instead of the usual smaller case that contained his dual pistols, placing it across his bed and opening it. Inside was a beautiful, massive gun that you would damn well consider a cannon with how large it was. Billy effortlessly clipped it onto his left arm, connecting it to his internals as he carried it perched at his wrist with little to no effort despite the awkward positioning.
"What is that??" You asked as you approached him, placing a hand on the gun attachment and gently tracing it down to his wrist.
"That is my new baby~" He hummed, proudly flexing how easily he could maneuver it.
"Oh she's gorgeous." You said, entirely fascinated with how he wielded the weapon. "I can't wait to see you in action with her."
"Aw, c'mon, you're gonna make me blush if you keep staring at me with those starry eyes of yours~!" Billy hummed, rubbing the back of his head bashfully.
"Well how can I not?? My tall and handsome construct boyfriend just upgraded to a sick lookin' arm canon for fighting in hollows. You are the definition of attractive to me." You told him as you leaned into his chest.
"You cannot distract me with such sweet words if we're up against an ethereal. I will miss my shot, starlight." He hummed, sliding his red wrapped arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him.
"Don't worry, if you miss, I won't." You chuckled, resting your forearms on his shoulders. "I haven't missed a shot yet, sweetheart."
The two of you started laughing together, amused by your own silly banter. You really were made for each other; two absolute nerds made for shameless adoration.
"You guys are so in love it's sickening!" Nekomata's voice rang out across the hideout.
"Go get your damn burgers already!" You hollered back.
Still laughing, Billy gave you a little electric shock if a kiss to bring your attention back to him as your menacing companions finally left for those burgers. You snuck in a few extra smooches for yourself before you separated your body from his in order to gather your own things for the commission. Gun in hand, you clipped a bag of bullets to your hip while Billy grabbed one of his pistols to take care of situations that wouldn't require a literal cannon. All that was left was to grab your helmet that sat in the corner on his dresser so you could ride off to do some business.
"Ready to go, babe?" Billy asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be." You nodded with a smile.
"Perfect. Let's ride~"
~
The ride to the Ballet Twins Towers wasn't too long on Billy's new motorcycle, allowing you to get straight to work with the resource recovery missing you had been given. Your construct lover hid your helmet in a compartment at the back of his bike before parking in a secluded area just inside the perimeter of the hollow to keep it hidden from potential raiders— as if anyone could crack the advanced code before he was alerted and could put it into recall mode. That bike was more than just a bike, it was an extension of him.
"Okay. The target isn't too far away from our entry point according to the carrot data. Do you think we can make this a quick operation and be in and out?" You asked, looking up at hm expectantly.
"Hah, easy. I don't see too many ethereals, so we can probably find the supply location within half an hour." He nodded. "Are you gonna take the high ground again and be my eagle eyes?"
"You bet. Wanna give me a boost up the side of this building?" You asked with a grin.
Billy nodded and put his hands together to give you a place to step off of, boosting you up into the air and onto the roof of the building behind you. When you had your footing, you adjusted your communicator in your ear and gave him a thumbs up.
"Thanks babe~" You said, your voice coming through clear in his head.
"Anything for you~"" He hummed. "How's the sound? Am I coming through nice 'n clear for you?"
"It's like you're up here with me." You chuckled, "Do not abuse the comms this time. If you fluster me, I might actually miss my shot too." pointing at him from above.
"I promiiiise." He sighed, putting that thought out of his mind that he totally wasn't already thinking about. "I'll just do it later… or right now maybe, since there's nothing pressing going on at the moment."
"Billy…" You huffed, listening to how his tone had slowly gotten smoother and much more teasing as he spoke. "You are so lucky I love you so so much."
"Heheh, I love you too~" He hummed.
"Let's go. Lock in before I fall off this building and back into your arms." You told him, unable to hide your silly smile.
He blew you a cheeky kiss and made a heart with his hands at you, waiting for you to catch it and make a heart back at him before finally setting off into the hollow together. The two of you were the dangerously in love duo; any ethereal would be at risk with the two of you on the job. You may not look very imposing blowing kisses at each other on the battlefield, but you were just as lethal as that love. That supply run would be found and back on it's delivery route in no time.
Billy ran with excellent speed, and you kept pace as you leapt from rooftop to rooftop, neither of you falling more than a couple feet behind the other before you were caught up again. You directed him with confidence, informing him of shifts in the ether or of any approaching ethereals as you went, allowing him to blast their core's to bits with his pistol before they could get in his way or become a threat. Times like this where your proof of how perfect you were together really made it's point; the hollows were nothing but a playground to you.
After weaving through the hollow following your carrot data for a few minutes or so, you finally found the supply location. Between several fallen buildings was a fully loaded truck with crates full of resources stacked on the back of it, two massive ethereals guarding it where it had been abandoned in a corner. You saw it first from your higher vantage point and radioed in to Billy to get him to stop.
"Wait! It's just two of them." You said, slowly walking the edge of the fallen building. "Don't go in there just yet. I can take them out from up here in one shot. No mess, no alerting other ethereals."
Billy tip toed between the cracks in the fallen walls to get a look at the ethereal situation, making noise of discomfort when he saw them.
"Are you sure? It would take a few hits from me at least." He asked, just to make sure.
"Yeah. I'm hoping the one shot won't attract and nearby enemies. "You replied. "Gonna use the bigger bullets for this one, babe."
You crept a bit closer along the side of the fallen building, dropping down onto the side of a balcony where you could brace yourself and your beloved gun against the wall. Loading up one of your special ether rounds, you pressed yourself into the wall and dug into a crack in the side of the concrete balcony. Looking down your sight, you watched the two huge ethereals roam around quite close to each other. The damn things were gonna make this nice and easy for you.
"Come on you stupid things. Get a liiittle bit closer to each other." You mumbled to yourself. "… Perfect."
Billy chuckled to himself when he heard your mumblings over the comms, leaning into a crumbled wall to watch you. "Get 'em, babe."
His confident encouragement came in clear on your end, earning a smirk from you as you kept your cool for a stable shot. When the two ethereals were about to pass each other, you pulled the trigger and jolted back a bit, the concrete wall behind you cracking from the force of the bullet flying through the air, that glimmering trail of ether energy streaking behind it as it pierced right through the cores of both ethereals. The excess ether energy made them shriek and begin to disintegrate, the impact of your bullet's tuned explosion speeding up the process and wiping them out completely.
"Don't worry, I got 'em." You finally replied.
"… I forgot to mute myself, didn't I?"
"Mmhmm. You sure did." You chuckled. "It's all good babe. That was cute."
"O-oops~" He hummed with a sheepish chuckle. "Hey, at least the coast is clear now! You were right, that one shot didn't attract any—" As he spoke, a loud roar cut him off before he could finish. "… ethereals."
"Shit. They must've been nearby. I'm so sorry—"
"No no, don't worry. I've got it this time, starlight. I've been wanting to show off for ages." He told you with confidence as he stepped out into the small clearing between the buildings, readily awaiting the onslaught of ethereals.
"Show off??"
The question in your tone was answered quite quickly when the first wave of lower ranking ethereals came running at him. Billy waited until they were close enough before he spun and kicked with nimble ease, that massive gun of his having a hidden blade on either end of it that he would elbow or slash a stray ethereal with, easily keeping himself out of harms way. You watched him in awe, your jaw dropping when that huge gun attachment split open and blasted out a laser, wiping the ethereals out in seconds. You were entirely amazed, almost missing the incoming second wave of monsters running out from between the fallen buildings.
"Billy, another wave incoming!" You called.
"On it!"
As the second wave spilled in, you witnessed an incredible feature of his that wiped the battlefield clean. Billy whistled sharply, then the sound of a revving engine suddenly filled your ears. His bike skidded out from between the fallen buildings, having responded to him and locked onto his location. An absolutely insane maneuver of kicking his bike into the crowd of ethereals quickly followed it's arrival, Billy pointing his arm at them and unleashing a railgun grade blast when he recalled his bike again, bracing against it to counter the blast. He then hopped onto his bike and started to ride through the ethereals, ramming and slamming them from all directions until he decided to pop up on his front tire for a brief moment before slamming his bike back down into the ground, driving the back wheel into the gravel and doing a burnout so vicious the ethereals were hit with shrapnel and jet flames alike until they had all but disintegrated into dust of ether. Billy himself glowed a brilliant red with jets of flame firing from his back to release excess energy and cool down, long spikes shooting out from near the vents in the final moment for quite a showy effect. They retracted back inside when he dismounted his bike, settling down and losing some of the intense glow of combat that his body gave off.
"Oh. My. God." You finally spoke, staring at him in awe. He winked at you making a heart with his hands again. "You're officially way cooler than me now, that's not fair!"
Heheh, I've been wanting to show you that for a while now~" He laughed. "Now get down here so I can see that cute shocked expression of yours up close; and check the supply. We still have to finish the job."
"Mmm, you've got your priorities sorted I see." You huffed, already jumping down from balcony to balcony.
"And you've got yours. You can't stop staring at me again." He pointed out, failing to hide his chuckle.
"You wanted me to stare at you."
"Yeah~"
Laughing together, you approached him where he leaned against his bike and fit yourself right into his open arms, his ands settling on your waist as he held you close. Standing on your toes, you gave him a sweet kiss that made him swoon in an exaggerated manner before he leaned down and gave you many little shock kisses so gentle you couldn't help but giggle, his bike nearly tipping over from how foolish you were being.
"You were awesome; my brave Starlight Knight." You praised. "I had no idea how cool that attachment is. You're practically a walking railgun! Sexy, but deadly."
"Oh you were absolutely made for loving constructs. I'm so happy to be the lucky construct that gets your love~" He sighed.
"I'm just as lucky to have met you. Now, let me call the client before the ethereals start complaining that we get a room again." You joked, turning to lean your back against him.
Using a special frequency you called the channel link you were given and contacted the client, uploading your carrot data to them so they could return to their supplies. Turns out the commissioner had hidden near the edges of the hollow, so they made it over quite quick to retrieve the supplies they had once lost to ethereals, a small team in tow to help verify the inventory. The leader of the team approached you and Billy while his team hauled off the resources, transferring the commission fee to you with a tap of their phone.
"Please doin' business with ya." You nodded.
"Thank you. I've never seen ethereals that claim resources and guard them like that." They said, turning to go help the team. "I'll be sure to commission you in the future to protect our transports!"
You waved as they ran off, watching the pile of goods get driven off to where it should have gone in the first place. When you were alone again, you let out a deep sigh and turned to look up at Billy.
"You're still so damn cool. I need to up my cool factor." You mumbled.
"Oh shush. You're max level cool to me, babe!" He told you, giving you a tight hug. "Hey! Now that we're done, did you wanna go back to your place or mine? Both are equally as far away."
"Man, you want some alone time with me so badly you forgot about my burgers." You said with a smile.
"Ah! Right! S-sorry~" He chuckled sheepishly.
"Don't worry, they're probably not back yet anyway, so I'm sure you'll have plenty of alone time with me back at yours, you sap."
"You're right, you're right. I should do some cleaning and maintenance on my guns anyway! And on myself. Rust buildup be damned." He said.
"Sounds like we have a plan then. Shall we ride?" You encouraged, pulling your helmet out of the back compartment.
"We shall."
Hopping back on his bike, the two of you sped off out of the hollow and back to home base, happy to have finished the job as quickly as you did. When you returned, your prediction that the others weren't back yet was true, leaving the place all to yourselves. You could continue to have your moment alone in peace as well as get some much needed maintenance done.
"Mind if I use some of your cleaning gear? I should really do some tlc for my own gun too." You asked.
"Of course! What's mine is yours." he nodded.
"Hell yeah, thanks!"
Happy to have some downtime, the two of you went into his room and set up on his bed, both of you starting to clean and repair your respective guns with the surplus of care supplies Billy had. Luckily you didn't need to do too much work on your sniper rifle, only needing to brush off some residual ether dust and clean your scope; maybe a bit of lubricant for the trigger and other parts. Billy on the other hand had a much more complex cleaning job to do, and you couldn't help but start to watch him go about his routine.
He kept the gun attached, engaging it to split open and reveal the inner workings, this time without blasting an explosive beam at anything. The intricacies of it fascinated you, watching as he wiped off soot and ether dust from inside and around the barrel before he made sure all the moving parts were well lubed for easy movement and to prevent jamming. While he finished up cleaning around the base of the barrel, he noticed you staring again and turned to face you.
"You're staring again babe~" He teased, finally unlatching the gun from his arm and closing the casing around the barrel again.
"Sorry, sorry~. I can't help it, your upgrades are just so… so damn awesome. If you ever need help maintaining anything please let me know. It's gotta be annoying to do all on your own." You offered.
"You're the first one I'd go to, so of course." he laughed. "Actually, if you wanna help me out, you could help me clean the hard to reach rust on my back? You don't have to, but because you expressed interest…"
"An excuse to put my hands on you? Hell yeah~" You hummed, putting your gun down on the floor to free up your hands.
"Now who's being a cheeky little menace?" He chuckled, standing up to put his artillery back in their respective cases. Once locked away, he shrugged off his jacket and took off his scarf, tossing it over the back of a chair before turning back to see you gazing at him with a smirk.
"Now I'm definitely staring." You purred, looking him up and down with emphasis.
A bright blush flooded Billy's expression as all his lighting turned pink, giving his head a shake. "Yeah, you are a menace." He said, returning to the bed with a small rust cleaning kit in hand.
"What~? I can't be excited to help take care of my love?" You said innocently, accepting the kit from him.
"Sometimes I'm just amazed at how much love you have for me. I'd trust you with anything." He told you. "Just be careful. I'm still sensitive, even after the upgrades."
"Oh? You kept that feature hey?" You said with intrigue.
"Of course! I'd never get rid of or dull the one thing that makes me feel so close to you." He replied, sitting down on his bed with his back facing you.
"You are so sweet I'm going to melt." You sighed, scooting closer to him. "You sure you're gonna be able to tolerate this? I can see quite a bit of buildup on your neck and stuff."
"Pff, yeah."
"Okay mister, hold still then." You told him.
You took some of the rust gel in the kit and a small steel wool brush, standing on your knees to reach the back of his neck and start cleaning up the slight buildup of rust and ether dust that had gotten stuck. He twitched a bit, but kept quiet as you cleaned away the hard to reach rust. However, when you got a little closer to the sides and base of his neck, he let slip a snort, lifting his shoulders a bit.
"Billy, hun, if you do that I can't reach the rust." You chastised sweetly.
"S-sorry. It's starting to t-tickle a bit." He admitted.
"Mmm, is that so?" You mused, running the little brush down his neck and back until you reached his side, polishing away some more rust and earning a little yelp from him. "I thought you said you'd be fine, babe~"
"O-okahahay maybe I was wrohohong about that!"
"You don't say." You chuckled. "As adorable as you are right now, did you wanna turn the sensitivity down so you could be more comfortable?"
"A-actually, it's been permanently modified to be stuck on a relatively high setting whenever you're nearby and I'm not engaged in active combat. I couldn't turn it down if I wanted to."
You paused, leaning over his shoulder to look at him. "Are you for real?"
He nodded in response, almost shyly. A smile broke out on your face and kissed him on his cheek a couple times, starting to laugh a bit yourself.
"You're freakin' adorable, you know that right?" You chuckled. "Stuck with high sensitivity and you still asked me to be the one to clean off your rust. Who's the silly now~?"
"H-hey I thought it was a great idea! Don't tease m-mehehe, h-hey! You menace— ah!"
You started to gently brush his side again, catching him off guard enough to pull him down onto his bed with ease. Now you were able to throw your leg over him and straddle his hips, leaning over him as you started to scrub away at rust that was entirely reachable on his own, but he let you do so anyway. Now a giggling mess, Billy fought to not throw you off of him, covering his face as he squirmed about.
You had made a song of his laughter by the time you got him completely rust free, having scrubbed down the little crevices of his chest and torso until he shined. The poor bot began to sputter and stutter his laughter when you started to wipe off the residue of the rust cleaner with a microfiber cloth, all his energy going into controlling himself; so much that he actually slipped into low power mode, entirely unable to fight back now as he giggled and snorted at your mercy.
"O-okahay stahap– l-low power mode! N-not fair!" He managed to stutter out between giggles.
"Ah— shit I'm so sorry hun!" You apologized, lifting the rag from his body. "It's a good thing I got the last of the rust cleaner wiped ff. I got so lost in listening to your laughter that I forgot how tired and warn you might be after such a busy day. I'm sorry for teasing you so much my love~"
"Aha, heh… I did sorta ask for it…" He chuckled sheepishly, his lighting visibly dimming quite a bit.
"Billy, you silly fool. Where's your charger?" You asked, beginning to fret a bit as you put the cleaning kit down on the floor.
"Big cord next to bed. Probably under it." He told you, still recovering from the tingles that zapped his sensors.
You got off of him and crouched down on the floor by his bed, finding the thick cord he mentioned laying hidden under the bed, just as he said.
"Got it. Scoot up and lay on your side, silly." You said, gesturing for him to move up on his bed.
He nodded and used the last of his energy to scoot up on his bed, pointing to a spot on his back to slot the oddly shaped cord into. You noted the spot and wired him in, his joints and body finally relaxing now that he wasn't consuming power. He turned his head a bit to look at you, bright pink hearts taking up the center of his eye displays.
"Thanks for keeping me powered on~" He hummed. "A full reboot sucks."
"I can't believe I almost tickled you into shutting down. I'm sorry hunnnn." You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You really are so darn adorable though; having a permanently elevated sensitivity when in close proximity to me. You're the silliest Billy."
"Best personal feature I have by far." He said.
"If you say so, silly." You chuckled. "At least you're rust free now!"
"Yes, thank you my love~. Now c'mere, cuddling is the next step in the after battle routine." He said, reaching his arm back to loop around you and pull you over him into his arms, chest to chest. "I'll charge faster if you stay in my arms."
"Is that so? Well, wake me when you're fully charged then. I don't mind taking and afternoon nap." You hummed.
"How about I wake you up when the others get back with the burgers? You didn't forget now did you~?" He teased.
"Ah, I did." You admitted. "Your laughter just filled me so well I totally forgot."
"Oh shush you." He huffed, hugging you tightly. "Let's get some good rest and wake up to a well deserved meal."
"Heh, that I can do." You nodded, draping an arm over his side.
It didn't take long for both of you to drift off into a sweet afternoon nap, much deserved after everything that occurred today. You curled up against his chest, warmed by his core and the few blankets that had bunched up between you. What a comforting way to wind down with your incredible construct lover, wrapped in his arms that could feel every slight squeeze and shift from you.
By the time the others had returned from their little food trip, you were completely knocked out. Anby was the one to poke her head into Billy's room to let you know that they were back and the food was here, but when she saw you two sleeping so peacefully she simply couldn't bring herself to disturb you. You just looked so cute sleeping there together. The burger already needed to be reheated anyway, so what's a few extra hours more without being warmed?
You deserved that peace and quiet you had found with each other.
✦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✦
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions
A/N: Billy the Kid is so damn goofy. I like characters like him a lot.
Still keeps his happy, goofy attitude even as you're riding his fingers
He's constantly asking you if you're sure you can keep going, he sees how much your legs are shaking, how your hips jolt when his thumb passes over your clit
Reducing you to a drooling mess is fun for him, but also seeing just how far he can push you before you hit your limits
Will offer to eat you out, fully knowing that he can't, just to feel your pussy clench around his fingers in need
Although he can't hrin at you it's very easy to imagine it as he laughs at you while you fall on top of him, your hips jolting in time with his fingers pumping in and out
Tells you he can feel the kisses you place across his face but you don't actually know how much he can feel
Curls his fingers inside of you when you've been still for too long
Encourages you to come as many times as you can before it starts to become uncomfortable, you have to make up for the fact that he's unable to come
But he can experience pleasure to some degree, he can feel how hot your pussy is around his fingers, how much you're dripping on his hand, he loves hearing you moan for him, and most importantly because of him
Uses his guns to rub the outside of your pussy and your clit, with the safety on and no bullets of course
His guns are his precious weapons, but he also likes to use them as a weapon of pleasure on you
Makes you lick them clean when you come against them
A/N: we need more billy kid fanfics. also, excuse grammar errors i’m struggling to get back into writing lalala
CW: mentions of NSFW, but i don’t go into explicit details :P
Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]
—X—
Your boyfriend was clingy.
Very clingy… but so are you!
Being a human/humanoid being, it was hard enough in battle having the physical limitations you did, but when it came to your robotic boyfriend, it was scary to give or receive that physical love you both adored and craved so much. Luckily, Billy made sure to limit himself and be extra careful with you. His care is what made you value him that much more. For example, when Billy hugged you, he would snake his arms around your waist, and gently squeeze. There’s also the moments when he wants to hold your hand. Billy would make sure to gently tap the inside of your palm and wait with an open hand for you to reciprocate.
In bed, he was extra careful. Making sure to ask things along the lines of ‘Is everything okay?’, ‘Are you comfortable?’, and ‘Can I touch you here/there?’.
There of course were times, despite the cautions, you would move on instinct and hurt yourself. For example, you’d go for a hug, forget that he’s made metal, and hit your head. There was also times where you’d hold his hand and get pinched between his joints. The funniest of them all were the times where you’d kiss him and accidentally hit your forehead on his.
It’s just human to be clumsy.
He loved that about you.
Billy loved how humans and their bodies worked, and he often showed that fascination where he would do things like holding your hand out and examining it, only to hold his own up and examine the similar parts and pieces. You sometimes got worried about how he compared himself to you, but there’s nothing to worry about because it’s one of those innocent curiosities. He perfectly content with being a machine, but there are certain limitations in his design that make him grumpy. Limitations that were, unfortunately, made prevalent when you two started dating.
You didn’t realize this until one day you two cuddled up in his bed watching Starlight Knight together. Billy sat with his legs crossed, hunched over in shrimp position, and you sat in his lap, leaning back into his chest, and holding a large plushie replication of a Bangboo. He had a large blanket draped over him that he made sure to wrap it in a way so that you’d also be covered. Both sets of eyes glued were glued to the screen, and the scene that was on was one where one of the main characters had received a kiss from the space princess they had just saved from imminent doom.
“I wish I had a mouth..”
You positioned yourself enough to turn and look up at your boyfriend with a curious smile, only for it to drop when you realized his eyes animated downwards. Ohhh, you hated when Billy was sad.
“Wha..? Why?” You asked, placing a hand on the side of his face and stroking it gently with your thumb. A robotic sigh could be heard from him, and he paused the show.
“It’s a super embarrassing reason..” You giggled when you saw the blush lines light up on his face, knowing that at least he had some humor left in him.
“Well, Billy, having a mouth has never stopped you from being yourself..” You replied.
“Yes it has!” He whined, making you scoff. In your head, you were thinking he wanted one to show he was talking.. but oh, how wrong you were.
Leaning back, you grabbed his hand and started tracing over the intricate details of it, kissing it, and then going back to studying it. “Why would you want one?” You asked.
“.. I can feel everything.. The way you feel is.. Y/n, your lips.. I just wanna be able to experience that. It’s hard not being able to kiss you. Not just on your lips, but everywhere.. you’re so amazing and...” He trailed off, failing to express himself in the way he wanted to. He frustratedly sighed, slumping over, and his head on top of yours, “I just feel like I’m falling short when it comes to loving you properly.. I dunno, it’s hard to explain..”
Your heartstrings were cutting your circulation, to say the least. You got up and turned your whole body to face Billy, straddling him, and then placing both hands on his shoulders, you shook him back and forth.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!,” you started, screaming so loud it made him jolt and reply with a small scream of his own. You stopped and continued, “Billy, you’re perfect. Literally. Even without all the extra features, you are perfect to me. I don’t care about what you don’t have, I care about what you do have..” Your concerned face started to wash away, watching his eyes grow in shock. Replacing concern was a lovestruck.
“Y/n..” He mumbled, barely audible. You continued, though, wanting to know exactly how much you loved him.
“I love you. I really do. You care so much about me, down to the way you hold me. That attention to detail is so… it’s so endearing and honestly, a turn on in some instances,” you felt your face heat up, but you pressed on, “I wouldn’t change you for the world because your expression of love, physical and emotional, are one of the things that I love about you. Don’t think for a second that you need to change yourself for me. Ever.”
“… Really..?” Billy asked, his trembling like he was about to cry. You smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek and nodded, “Yes, really!”
Billy chuckled and sighed, “..Are you sure..?” You giggled, noticing he was joking. “Yes, I’m sure..”
“Soooo, what you’re saying is.. my fingers are enough fore—”was all Billy could manage before you pushed him down and started suffocating him with the Bangboo plushie. His voice was replaced by muffled laughs and struggling noises.
“ENOUGH OF YOU.” You said, burning red in the face. You let him go after a minute or two, and his childish laughs and giggles got louder.
“I had to ask..!” You huffed at his reply and turned away to pout. Billy sat back up and rested his hands onto your hips and his eyes smiled. “Imagine if I had a tongue..”
Turning back to look at him you gasped and started yanking his hair, making him yelp. “CAN WE NOT??! IM TRYING TO BE SENTIMENTAL!”
“Yank it harder,” Billy started to laugh, only making you give up and let go, “Y’know I like it rough, baby..~” He jokingly followed up. You snorted and cracked a smile at his fake sexy voice, and sighed nodding your head.
“Okay, okay.. for realsies this time, Y/n..?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.. it means the world to me.”
—X—
A/N: billy uses humor to cope during serious situations, that’s my HC yeah.. anyways, i didn’t proofread this :3
SOMEONE TO YOU ── zenless zone zero, sfw ౨ৎ⠀⠀or little things you do that make them fall in love again ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ gender neutral reader⠀/⠀ft. billy kid, nicole, anby, wise, belle, von lycaon, zhu yuan. ♡ˎˊ˗
— VON LYCAON ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you fix his clothes. it's nothing, really, you say, adjusting a crooked collar or smoothing a wrinkle. but to lycaon, who wrenches your hips flush to his own when you attempt to break away, it's as if you're unlocking a secret part of his world. the slight, almost imperceptible smile that graces his lips speaks volumes, and if you notice the wagging of his tail or his ears twiching, you never bring it up, instead, you giggle and remind him to be careful—lycaon knows it's not just about the clothes, as he yearns for an affinity but is terrified of the eternal menaces that endanger you and himself alike, but for now, lycaon can get used to the way you treat him as though he is the center of your universe simpers when he deliberately separates from your embrace by prying away and halting the intimate dance formerly initiated.
— ANBY ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you watch movies with her. anby just adores those quiet evenings when you and she are nestled together, lost in the glow of a flickering screen. it doesn't matter if you understand the movie, or if it is not your favorite genre, she thrives on the way your eyes light up in the dark, a mirror to her own fascination, and in the same way, you always listen to everything she has to say about the film. anby does not know how to physically express her emotions, but she makes it up by pressing your head to her and feel what you often feel with you: safe, soothed — at home. the effect she has on you, it makes you think that maybe everything will be alright. and if you fall asleep, she smooth her palms up and down your sides. she's soothing you, even like this. does she even realize it, you wonder, is it just second nature for her? you don't need an answer right now.
— BILLY KID ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you praise him. he swears his abdomen houses clutters of butterflies who dance to the tempo of his non-existent palpitating heart, and his cranium is a ground of play for rampant imagery whenever he hears your voice. he revels in the way you celebrate his victories, no matter how small, and how you tease him with an affectionate grin after every misstep. your belief in him, wrapped in your energetic spirit, lights up his world with a spark that fuels his every move. and there's also you. his person. and he loves, and loves, and loves so endlessly you'd think he would give you the world and everything in the sky, if he could. and if he feels too embarrassed, he would gasp as if stumbling upon treasure before he clumsily grips at your shoulders with a child's enthusiasm. billy is sure to divulge his honest opinion. you, to him, were his one in a million.
— NICOLE ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you hold her. she will never admit it, but nicole finds a serene joy in the gentle, reassuring touch of your hands. it could be any part of her body, from the way you keep your hands warm for nicole when it's cold outside and come up behind her and rubs them up and down her arms. she can do it herself, obviously, but you don't stop, whether it's a supportive grip during a comission or a delicate caress in passing, you know it brings a soothing sense of closeness that she treasures. in private, however, she's so ironically fragile. you could hold her in the palm of your hand, present his broken pieces to the world and they'd still choose to be fooled. the leader of the odd-job agency the cunnin hares will never admit the times she falls asleep like that, cradled against you, soft in your arms.your touch is like a quiet promise that reassures her and makes her heart flutter with contentment,
— WISE ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you lull him to sleep. when insomnia weaves its restless threads around him, it's your voice that becomes his sanctuary. you don't care if you have to be up at 4am. if you stir awake at an odd hour and finds him still up and restless, you'll always be wrapping around him before he can get a word out,a and it doesn't matter if he is working on the computer or watching the tv, you'll drag him back to bed so you'll press him snug to your warm chest as you hum in that soft, gravely tune that always helps him fall asleep. and in the morning, he is grateful to be woken up by you snoring next to him, and wise breaks into a smile at the sight, eyes baring crow's feet as his fingers rouse through your knotted locks, thumb prodding into your temple and stroking soothing lengths into the dimpled flesh. your presence becomes his most cherished remedy.
— BELLE ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you play fighting games with her. she always wins, anyway, but you know the way belle’s eyes sparkle with a fierce joy when you join her in the world of fighting games is worth the try. if only you knew she consistently were to be reduced to putty in your hands, an object to be used for your disposal, belle would allow such. to remain within contact for a second more, she’d do whatever it took. desire which set her heart aflame affirmed her certainty when deciding his aim for the future. she would remain by your side, sure to treasure everlasting memories crafted within your presence. she still hands out pieces of herself like there's enough to go around (there isn't). and when she lose( on purpose ), she since convinced herself that she has already won. content with the belief he had already acquired millions with you.
— ZHU YUAN ꩜.ᐟ ˗ˏˋwho loves when you buy flowers for her. zhu yuan's heart flutters with a delicate joy whenever you present her with flowers, their vibrant colors a testament to your affection. she once mentioned how much she likes keeping fresh flowers, but since she is busy she would not have time to take care of them; and now the house never seems to run out of them, the vases always full with fresh sugar water and kept - you tend them for her. blemishes blind to her eye, she discerned only visage of an appeal, your charm far too bewitching to discourage her nursing of attraction towards you. she adores not just the flowers themselves, but the care you take in nurturing them, reflecting the same tenderness you offer her. regardless of how you had been perceived by peers or what grade you had been given, the way she viewed you was like no other.
he’s stupidly attractive and he knows it. that’s the worst part. he knows he fucking hot and he uses it to his advantage.
while you’re under him, he takes your hand, runs it down his bare body and watches you bite your lip. he lets you trace your fingers between his abs, circling them around the muscle while he chuckles lowly. still pushing back into you with his other hand heavy on your hip, kneading the plush that sat there.
when you start to move your hand on your own, he knows you’re too coherent. that he wants to get you hotter than you already were. he fucks a little rougher, pulling you back into his every thrust just to watch your breath hitch and your hand fall. dick taunts you by your ear as he leans over. his voice making you heady with how whiny and possessive he got. how much power he had in his movements that you could never really deny him when he made you feel like this.
“such a dirty girl,” sighing the words as his hands trail to your stomach. “letting me fuck you like this, shit—”
his hand meets with the bulge he made inside you. touching the depths and leaving it bare just to kiss your cervix again. it’s like he knows where to hit and how to hit it. exactly how to make you bend and squirm but also how to keep you pliant as he does it.
grayson is the type of enjoy how broken up you get at his movements too, purposefully prolonging the sensations that he’s memorized how you react. he wants to bring you to the absolute edge and then suddenly take it away because he likes how it ruins you. he loses it at how you whine and scratch at him. the sounds you make is what makes him continue until you finally cry and beg him to let you come. tears staining your cheeks at the overstimulation. that’s when he shushes you quietly and brushes your hair from your face to tell you he’ll give it to you. that he will stop being a tease and that he’s sorry.
though he says it like he’s not sorry at all.
when he kisses you it’s like all resemblance of yourself goes out the window. sometimes he uses it like a way you keep you quieter while he fucks you in his old bedroom at the manor. he whispers by your ear, you don’t wanna get caught, do you?
hands spanning up your sides to hold you there and keep you right where he wants you. he knows exactly what he’s doing. although most of the time, he kisses you so he can feel how your breath shakes. lips locked on yours while he moves just a little faster right as you try to say something. you’ll open your mouth to speak, maybe pull back to breathe deeper when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. reaching as deep as he can while your lips part against his mouth and he laughs.
his stamina is absolutely insane. skilled and athletic like he was trained for this kind of thing. and fuck, he has the body to prove it. he doesn’t cum until you have enough times that you lose count. when you’re quite literally shaking and fucked out, that’s when he chases his own high. but that doesn’t mean he won’t paint you white when you beg for it. in fact, he’ll fuck you so full that it could gush out onto the sheets, making a wet spot from your mixed arousal. he loves how you look when he pushes on your stomach and lets it flood around him all over again. it’s like a ritual after patrol when he’s needy.
you’re hardly even surprised when he pulls you onto his lap and asks you to ride him but guides your hips the whole time. he praises you even when he’s doing the work. leaning up to kiss your chest and mumble about how good you’re doing. how he knows you’re tired but he loves you so much.
he’s equally sensual when you collapse onto his chest after the nth time. maneuvering you to your back to clean you up with his relentless tongue. too tired to do anything but mumble and melt into the mattress. then he’ll hold you to his chest while he puts something on the television and laughs at their jokes like he’s not even exhausted from what he’d just done to you.
summary — varka's love is almost too much for you to handle.
themes — librarian!reader, semi-public sex, inexperienced!reader, developing relationship, standing full nelson position, struggling to fit him in, creampie, orgasms, varka calls ya pumpkin, praise
WC: 1.1k
This was not how you were supposed to tend to the Mond Library in Lisa’s absence.
Plap!
Tears steamed down your cheeks as your nails scratched against the muscled forearms folding you in half. Head cradled in his hands, feet dangling in the air, you whimpered as the Grand Master held you suspended, his hips slapping into yours. With another rough thrust, one of your shoes fell off your feet, clattering against the wood floor with a loud thump. Varka’s breath was hot on your ear, the smell of smoked meat and booze wafting over you with each exhale. As he rammed himself into you, you dug your teeth into your trembling lower lip and cried.
“Shh, shh…” Varka said, kissing your temple. “You’re okay, pumpkin.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being held midair, getting split open on the girth of his cock. To make matters worse, you were still operating under business hours. At any moment, anyone could wander into the library looking for a book, only to wind up finding you, getting your cunt destroyed by Grand Master Varka. You tried to stifle your moans, but when he stuffed you full of him for the umpteenth time, stretching you beyond what you thought yourself capable, you gasped out, “Fuck.”
“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispered. “Not so loud, pumpkin. You’re doing…” He grunted, thrusting his dick into you, making you see stars. “You’re doing great, hon.”
You clawed at the hands supporting your head, your vision blurred with hot tears. Petulantly, you whined, “Grand Master, you’re…too big…”
“You can do it, hon,” he whispered back hotly. “I know you can.”
“Oh, fuck,” you sobbed, feeling your insides throb when his tip mashed into your cervix. “Grand Master, please. Not so deep.”
“I’m sorry,” he answered immediately, his voice coming out rushed. In another soothing whisper, he said, “Shh, pumpkin, shh. I’m sorry.”
His hips didn’t thrust so deep anymore. You felt like you could finally breathe.
“I got carried away,” he murmured. “Your pussy’s so tight, hon. Feels so good for me.”
Those words were strangling you.
“You’ve gotten so good at this,” he told you. “So much better than when we first started. Hold on for me a little longer, yeah?”
He was right. The first time Grand Master Varka revealed to you that he had interest beyond what you had originally thought, you were flabbergasted. It wasn’t that you didn’t find him attractive—no, it was quite the opposite—but your whole life, you had only seen Varka as a role model. An ideal, really. Not as a man, and certainly not as one who would fill you to the brim with him every night that you allowed him to. Your first time was awkward, a bit painful, but Varka held you through it. Always gave you kisses and praise, even when you could barely handle the motion of his tip alone. You wanted to be able to take all of him, to let him use you as he saw fit, but unlike him, you were far too limited by pain. It frustrated you, to have taken him this many times and still be struggling. But Varka told you best—your rate of improvement was truly astounding. Even to yourself.
“All good, sweetheart?”
You looked downwards, your eyes catching the movement of his thick cock, glistening with you as it thrust halfway in and out of your hole. Chewing your lower lip, you nodded.
He let out a grunt, his fingers squeezing harder around your head. Something rough grated his tone when he asked, “Is it okay if I cum inside?”
“Yes,” you whined. “Yes, Grand Master, yes.”
“Mngh, just…just call me Varka, pumpkin.”
You let out a choked sound when he snapped his hips upwards, and even though it was only half of him, you felt so incredibly full. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped and sputtered for breath, nails digging into his wrists as you wailed, “Grand Master.”
“Varka,” he answered, his tone far more brusque than usual. Something about him sounded feral when he growled, “Call me Varka.”
Another rough thrust of his hips into yours had you squirming. “Oh, fuck,” you sputtered, your eyelids fluttering to the beat of your uncontrollable heart. “Varka.”
When his dick pushed past that halfway point of his, shoving its way into your innermost walls with its violent ram, your nails pierced the skin of his hands. Crying for him, you scratched away at his skin, leaving deep gashes that left him marred with your love. Varka was shushing you again, his hips were thrusting deep again, and as you whined his name, you were overwhelmed by the force of your own orgasm. You felt hot, you felt blind, and as Varka pumped you full of him, you let the intensity of your voice rip through the silent library.
“Varka,” you were crying. “Varka.”
“Fuck,” he whispered back. “Here you go, pumpkin.”
His base was flush to yours, resounding through the library with a wet smack! You struggled in his arms, your eyes twitching as discomfort and pleasure weaved themselves equally throughout your insides. Letting him cum this deep inside of you was surely a recipe for disaster, but the feel of his cock throbbing within you only led you to your second slope.
“Varka,” you slurred, your eyes blurred by your tears. “I’m cumming again.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s good, pumpkin.”
He held you in place, even after his limp cock fell out of you. You felt the trickle of his cum as it dripped from your hole, your teary eyes pressing shut as a second orgasm wracked through you. Something about doing it like this, him watching without even being inside you, was both embarrassing and enthralling.
“Good job, pumpkin,” Varka murmured. “I’ll put you down, okay?”
Breath shuddering, you nodded. Ever so gently, Varka maneuvered his intense hold on you until your feet were on the floor. He held one of your hands while he reached for your fallen heel, sliding it back onto your foot for you.
When Varka stood back to his full height, he cupped your face in his hands. He leaned down, closing the distance between you, and gave you a firm kiss. Your hands rose to his wrists, gripping them hard as you whimpered against him. He lavished your tear-stained face with booze-scented kisses, and in his deep, rumbling voice asked, “Wanna go home?”
You nodded, your arms looping around his broad waist. Your legs trembled beneath you, rendered so by the way he had pinned you midair and the intensity of how he had fucked you. Quietly, you replied, “You might have to carry me.”
Varka laughed.
“Sure thing, pumpkin. I’ve got ya.”
a/n: to anyone who regularly reads my lohen works, just know that im currenlty running for my life from that man. yes i wrote varka fuckin you in the library before him IM SORRY LOHEN but he gets more than enough smut from me T_T anyway, i wanted to show varka some love cause he's SEXY AF and i need more of him.
anyway, if you liked it what you read, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ reblogs and comments appreciated!
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