#꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

[v1x3n]

'KISMET' ◞ as always - chapter one.

you were average. average looks, average body, average grades. nothing popped out about you, you went under everyone's radars. no boys asked you out, no girls wanted to become friends. you were practically a loner - you had no one close enough to even call an acquaintance.

your life at college was quiet, oh how quickly that would turn around.

ft. toji fushiguro x reader x sukuna ryomen. [ college au ]

꒰ IGNIFY ꒱— chapter warnings: biker-tutee!toji x loner reader x drummer-ex childhood friend! - frat boy au - very much self indulged reader, tumblr girl warning, masturbation (reader), depraved, bullied, insecure reader, mentions to drug addiction, sexual references.

series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Quiet is the word that describes you. You never spoke up in class, never approached anyone and never spoke more than necessary. That made you pretty much invisible in highschool. Crickets were louder than you. 

No one ever acknowledged you, no one apart from your only friend - sukuna. He was your best friend all throughout your childhood and he stuck to your side.

He was almost your protector, he yelled at any stupid boy who made the ‘ my friend has a crush on you ‘ joke, he would take you away from your house when your parents fought, he would do anything for you.

But that was then. It's currently college and you two stopped talking. He got involved with the popular groups of boys - the frat boys - and you?

Well you were the same kid you were before, just older and without a best friend. Sukuna and your friendship faded away quickly soon after the first month of college. You wish you could resent him for leaving you alone but something in you couldn't hate him. Even after all this time. 

Words echoed through the walls of the college, was it a new rumour? A new secret out? A new fight? You wouldn't know. 

Ruffles scatter through as three men walk through the halls, people's reactions to them mixed. The white, flowy hair and the charming smile of the man satoru gojo wouldn't be missed by anyone. The fakeness underneath the smug smirk he gave anyone passing was easily seen but not everyone really wanted to see the hidden in him. He swaggers in with his hands deep inside of his pockets, his tall figure glides through beside his friend, toji fushiguro. 

His scraggly black hair swishes as he drags his head back to laugh - his tongue tracing over a deep scar that ingrates his lips. He's buffier than the former, but he wasn't as tall as satoru. He glances towards you - he doesn't look at you, he looks through you. Another firm reminder of what you are. A ghost, invisible. 

Then alongside the famous two was a familiar man. A familiar voice. A familiar laugh. The walk you so mesmerised as he walked down with his new friends. The friends he gained by leaving you. 

He looked the same as always. His dusted pink hair was shifted back, leaving a small strand to dangle in the middle. The same hair you used to brush after he showered, creating wacky hairstyles as he grumbled about it hurting. The memories seem too far away yet so close. The obscure man had more piercings than the last time you saw him. A dazzling new jewellery on his eyebrow. His right one. 

Unlike toji, sukuna didn't look at you. He hasn't since you last talked. Why would he even think about talking to you, or look at you? You were nothing to him. Just old memories. A childhood mistake. 

Straightening yourself out blurred your thoughts, you swipe down your faded jeans with a small sigh. Turning back to your phone, your screen lit up with the contents of whatever app you were scrolling to pass time. A lone sticks in your head while you watch the groups of friends pass by, uncaring about the world around them. The deeper part of you wants to be envious but you can't let yourself because you shouldn't be. You couldn't be jealous or anything stupid. It's a dumb emotion. 

The echo stops as the bell rings loud, pausing everyone. 

Potential was the reason your professor gave you this tiring task. Your grades were dropping, barely passing. The sweet old woman that stood in front of your class was always kind towards you - much more  than the other students. Usually it would be the people passing with flying colours who tutor the kids falling behind, for extra credit. But instead, you're the one falling behind and you get to teach the lowest in the class. The sweet woman didn't really give you another choice. 

She gave you two things; a better grade and a list of kids to tutor. It wasn't a long list, like three students but one shone out to you. Toji fushiguro. 

The man probably even didn't know your name despite you being his best friend's ex best friend. The way he looked through you, you wondered if he would be able to even hear anything you said if you did tutor him. Would it just go through one ear then out the other? Would he even show up? You doubt. 

With a lip caught between your teeth, you shut your eyes in defeat. Shutting your laptop which was littered in fun stickers built up throughout the years. Leaving the warm device on your thighs.

Burning as the machine whirrs then silences. You only had to do this until you caught up in your class, then you could stop. You didn't know how long that would be but you knew it would be a few months at most. It wasn't like you were doing anything else with your free time so it wasn't exactly a loss. 

You let out a long sigh and slump back into your bed. Hitting your head straight on the pillow. With limp arms you reach over to take your silent phone from your bedside table, shoving your laptop from your lap. A familiar glow as you type in the number of your ‘students’.

YOU - 10:26PM || hi, this is toji right?

TOJI - 10:27PM || depends on who's askin

You send him a simple reply with your name. Taking a little longer to respond straight after.

YOU - 10:27 || mrs koro shouldve told you about me tutoring you?

With a lip between your teeth, you wait for a reply. Holding the phone with both hands and a strong anticipation. You doubt he even knows your name. Imagining his eyebrows twitching when he reads your name.

TOJI - 10:30 || ahhh right, forgot bout that

You let out a quick sigh, of course.

TOJI - 10:31 || when do we gotta

YOU - 10:31 || she said at least once a week

TOJI - 10:33 || great. tomorrow? just to get it done with

With a groan and a left on read receipt, it was official. Tutoring the man of the college, toji fushiguro. You were so excited about this (thought very sarcastically) you just wondered how the interaction would go down. Would you stumble over your words? Would you be so dry and dead - he just picks himself up and leaves? Would he insult you? The anxiety of humiliating yourself washes over you, sweat clings to your armpits along with your forehead.

A quacking hand is sweeping your hair from your eyes while your phone lights up from a swish of your thumb. Rereading the texts you and THE toji fushiguro just shared. He was probably the first guy - no person - who's texted you this week. And it is a Sunday.

On with Monday then.

Your hands stick to the wooden table which you place your hands over in an attempt to calm yourself. You and toji decided to meet at the school library, as it was the best choice. The time clicks to 11:40, he should've been here 10 minutes ago. He's late. What do you really expect though? From someone like toji? Why would he be on time for someone like you? You jump as your phone pings louder than expected. The text was from him.

TOJI - 11:41 || srry, i'll be a few mins. got caught up

With a sigh, you send a reply. 

YOU - 11:41 || oh okay

You smooth your hands against the table again, analysing what you are going over today. Berlin Wall - well more specifically the events of Berlin Wall. You graze your eyes over your notebook which has notes on the topics. You decide to pick out the events that led up to the Berlin Wall.

Then there he was - toji fushiguro. He slumps into the library. Perfectly out of place. His eyes run around the place that was stacked with books yet not many people. Then his eyes met you. You're straightened against a table in the back of the library, surrounded by shelves, pencils and books. Your eyes meet his, and this time - his eyes don't look through you. Parting your lips as he strides over to you. Long and powerful strides.

"You my tutor?" he stands tall in front of you, his hands moving over the chair in front of him. "Uhm y-yeah." you nod with a slight eagerness. He takes his seat in front of you, his eyes roaming over you. Not in a flirty or predator way - but in a curious way. "So uh- I was thinking we could go over the events leading up to the build of the Berlin Wall." Your words try to sound confident, but it just parts from your lips as nervous, scared.

He doesn't reply, just sits there. He is silent, nothing but a grunt every so often. You talk, stuttering, going over key topics. Your eyes meet with his. Nothing. Letting a sigh part from you - you glance between him and his hands. His knuckles were swollen and red, you could hiss at just how sore it looked.

"Obviously the Yalta conference made the decision to split up Germany-" you stop talking to run your eyes over the page in front of you. His eyes remained on you, studying. "And Berlin which caused tension."

You let your eyes glance up at him for a second, just a flicker. During the second, you two meet eyes. His pupils dilate, and his gaze is piercing. "You always this nervous?" toji blurts out. As a reply, you sputter out the starts of a bunch of words, but nothing whole comes out. "Don't worry bout it, it's kinda cute."

Toji speaks calmly, as if he wasn't giving you a compliment that would drench you and have you humping your hand hours later. This was natural for him, too natural. His cool expression made a rock drop to the deepest part of your stomach. You let your words skip over his gut twisting simple comment, "but we need to focus on the- erm construction of the wall."

He lets out a soft chuckle. "Like what? Bricks 'nd shit?"

With a bite to the skin of your mouth you respond, glancing down at your paper. "No like why it was built."

He stares you down. It makes you trip over your words, nervous and awkward. He could tell you weren't used to this. "It was built to keep the east Germans from fleeing to the west, as the west had many things the east didn't. Like supplies and more freedom."

When you take a breath of air, you notice something about toji. The way he just looks at people, you've noticed the way his eyes soften yet pierce right through you when you let words escape your mouth. Then you stutter, they dart to your mouth. Just for a second.

And he notices things about you. Almost analyzing your actions, your tone. He picks up that despite being very confident on the topic - you aren't confident talking about it. Cute. He keeps that in the back of his head.

Your stutters and awkward glances interest him. He had never met anyone like you. Sure, he's met nervous girls or shy girls, girls who were nerdy too. But nothing like this, you weren't particularly shy - you were uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in a situation such as tutoring someone.

Tracing the words on your notebook, you finish off what you were saying. Passionately telling him about the division and the basics. "Yeah so it erm stood as a physical and symbolic barrier between them," you point to one of the several books that separate you and toji. Pointing to where the textbook showed a picture of the wall you were yapping about. You look up at him, expecting a response, but he just nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on you. It's as if he's trying to figure something out, something beyond the words you're saying.

The room in the air is stiff. Heavy and full. Something you've never been in before. You wonder if he feels the sticky tension in the atmosphere too. Letting yourself talk away as his hinged eyes stare at you lazily, his phone begins pinging. One. then another. After a minute - at most - there were two more. You couldn't help but be distracted, taking several looks at his phone which was face down on the library table. Buzzing and beeping also caught the attention of other people in the place. Quiet and silent apart from the annoying vibrations. “Fucking hell.” the tall man in front of you groans, puffing out his cheeks to exhale dramatically.

You don't speak. Neither does he. There are no words exchanged between the two of you as you sit, your eyes focused on him as he picks up his phone.

In the midst of typing something, he takes a peek up at you - this time it's different from the other times. A strange yet familiar feeling settles in your stomach, a worry, an insecurity. “Mind if we finish now? Forgot I got a shift.”

“Oh uhm yeah sure.” you pick yourself up and gather the books into a neat pile, almost scrambling. Toji stands up, pushing back the chair and he reaches down to pick up a few books. Just then - your fingers meet as you go to grab the open book, he doesn't move. You smile a little awkwardly, closing the book. A breath is heard. You don't know if it's yours or his. 

Scrambling the textbooks together into a tall stack, he nods once. “See ya.” His voice is calm yet rough, he says your name and it sounds foreign. You weren't used to people acknowledging you. Not used to any sorts of attention, no matter how small. 

Then he leaves, strolling out like he hasn't made your palm sweat. Your breath is heavy. Your mind blurred. 

You roll your hips up, parting a ‘hah!’ from your lips. You mewl and your fingers curl into your cunt. All you can think about is how toji was flirting with you, how he was calling you cute. It blurred your mind. A screech sounds from you as you reach the gooey part in you, arching your back into the touch of your own hand. “Fuck..” you groan. Clenching onto the pillow behind you with your free hand.

Your fingers grip the pillow case, slipping the fabric through them. Your other fingers curl up once more, pounding into the spot you need it too. Your eyes stutter, rolling back as your hips roll up once more. Trying so desperately to find the ecstasy you burned so eagerly for. 

Your forehead sweats, the lingering and separated strands of hair sticks to the sweat. Letting out a needed breath as your fingers tire. “Fuck!” you groan once more.

With a bite of your lip, you decide to quit fingering yourself. Moving your hand to your pelvis to press down on your lower stomach as your fingers lift your hood to get access to your twitching clit. 

Bringing your two fingers to your mouth allows you to spit on them. The stringy saliva runs down, creating a puddle of wet on your prunes. You slip your hand between your aching thighs once more, shifting your hips up so you connect with your clit. Rubbing the spit onto the needy bud - with a gasp you continue swirling. Feeling your hole twitch and clench as you continue rubbing away. 

Gripping tightly into the sheets below you to ease the stimulation doesnt help but fuck – you need this. The way toji was looking at you sent a swirling sensation through to your stomach. It was a weird feeling. No guy had ever looked at you in such a way. “Ah!” you gasp out loudly. Toes curling as your legs shake. 

Rubbing your clit sends a burn through your cunt and your legs. A harsh, zapping burn that you loved. You chase the sting, swirling your spit into  your shaking clit while you breathe out loudly. Your mind fogs up with pleasure.

Your hips buck up into your fingers as unbearable pleasure builds up. All you can think about is toji. Fuck , he would be so disgusted if he knew you were rubbing to him after just meeting him. Your senses overwhelm and you gasp out for air. Fingers carrying up the speed, growing sharp with each circle you draw on your sensitive clit.

A strong feeling shoots down to your core, you feel yourself tighten around nothing. Fuck. this was pathetic but right now in the moment you didn't care. 

He would be so disgusted. He would hate you. Rumours would spread. But all you could think about was the tension that lingered in the air whilst you tutored him. The way he looked at you as if he was actually interested. You knew he wasn't, toji was probably just trying to concentrate or something but you can't help but wonder what he was thinking.

Through your fluttering eyelashes you see your hand working away between your thighs. Your fingers work faster, the wetness spewing from your aching hole and your spit makes it easier to glide pleasure over your throbbing clit.

Breath hitching as a tight coil tugs in your lower stomach. Toes curling and splaying out - reaching the high you need. You crave. You gasp, jolting your head back. You feel your body twitching, ready to finally cum. “Shitshitshit”.” you moan.

Then just as your nub burns in the right way, it fades. Rubbing your weak fingers faster doesn't help. “Fuck.” you groan, now resting your head back in discomfort. Great. 

Just fucking great. 

With a shove of your body, you manage to get up. In a clear grump. Grabbing the scraps of clothes you were wearing and pulling them back onto your body. Covering your failed shame. Better try another day. Hopefully tomorrow it will work.

Well. With a big sigh you take your silent, ghostly phone and go straight to your favourite app. Ofc it was tumblr. 

“So fucking tired.” toji groans, slumping onto the musty couch that lays in the center of the living room of the mustier frat house. Right beside him was suguru. “All you do is fucking sleep, how are you tired.” suguru clicks his neck to the side until it cracks. 

“Bullshit class got me a tutor.” 

Suguru glances over, mind still more focused on the buz of the tv rather than whatever toji was complaining about. “She hot?”

Toji almost rolls his eyes. Suguru's eyes are plastered onto the screen again. Watching whatever fucking shit was playing. The air is filtered with a light scent of weed, sweat and the cologne of multiple of the men that lived within the same walls. The long haired man's legs stretched out onto the ottoman which lay in front of the two men. 

"Like yeah she's okay, just not my type." he says with a boredom that if you heard, would make your stomach drop.

Toji leans forward to grab a stray cigarette stranded on the floor of the frat. What a place to keep a cigarette. as suguru mumbles, "Who isn't your type?" toji reaches his lighter and flicks it open, a warm filled the space.

While toji holds the whispering flame to the cigarette, he rolls his eyes. "Whatever, shes fucking hot." Classy. Sugurus' eyes take a glance at Toji as he continues talking. Letting him know he's still active and not engorged in the shit tv show filling both him and tojis ears. "shes just-" he trails off, breathing in the smoke of the cigarette. Letting it roll through his lungs and back out. Clouding the air.

"This chicks noy even like shy- shes fucking terrified." his head falls to the back of the sofa. eyes trained on the ceiling as he takes his second puff. Inhaling the death and once again, letting it crawl from his lungs.

A wispy stream surrounds the air, "Barely looked me in the eyes, swear she fucken flinched when she did." the messy haired man lets out a scoff with his own words. Suguru's eyebrow raised, "So she's a little socially anxious, so what? We both know youre gunna fuck her."

"Fuck who?" a booming voice appears behind him. Entering a new frat boy, sukuna. Toji can barely get a breath in before suguru peels back up, "The cutie tutoring him."

This time, Sukuna's eyebrow raises. His hands smoothing over the back of the couch as he leaned over. "Oh?" Toji exhales a breath of smoke once more. Letting his eyes connect with Sukuna's piercing ones. "Whats 'er name?"

Then, your name rolls from tojis tongue and sukuna is taken back. A clenched jaw. He breathes in the slightest. "You fucked her?"

"What? Nah."

"Not yet,” suguru mumbles under his breath, snatching the cigarette from Toji and wraps his lips around it. "Youre planning on fucking-" sukunas voice breaks in the slightest as he says your name. It's not noticeable, but you would be able to tell.

"Sucking hell, no I'm not. She's just tutoring me for history. You horny fucks."

Suguru pipes up, two fingers curling in the air as he scoffs, “yeah, ‘just tutoring you’.” with a roll of the eyes, toji shifts his arm toward suguru, taking back the cigarette before he can steal another drag. 

Sukuna's jaw clenches, his fingers tightening in the slightest onto the back of the couch. The material curves around the skin of his fingers. It's quiet, just for a second. The harsh unknown tension in the air, the one that only sukuna knew off was rough. It was killing him.

There's a pause as toji sighs, “whatever, dipshit.” taking a long drag. Breathing in the deathly fumes, deep into his lungs and letting it linger before blowing it back out. A flicker of smoke trailing off through his nose. Sugurus eyes switch to toji then to sukuna, “if you arent gunna fuck her, i will then.” he jokes, clearly but yet it still makes sukuna take a breath. 

“Right, quit it now.” the secretly nervous fratboy barks out, “what we doing for the party friday?” 

Ah yes, the weekly party the frathouse threw. Every week, without fail. Scent of drugs, mixes of alcohol and perfumes from all the hot girls they invited filled the air, clogging noses. Every week the exact same. Especially for toji. A new girl he had never paid any attention to before, flirting, then waking up with a headache and having to buy plan b. God knows how he hasn't knocked up a girl before. Must be luck.

“What do you mean, ‘what are we doing’” suguru scoffs, swinging his hair around and whipping it up into  a loose ponytail, “Same shit we do every week, I'll supply weed and satoru buys the drinks.”

With a roll of the eyes, sukuna straightens himself up and takes himself through the living room and up the stairs. Toji and suguru exchange a glance towards each other. “Fucken weird.” toji grumbles, a quirk in his face, “hes fucking taking again isnt he, bros actin’ like a wreck.” two separate sighs are heard, one more rugged than the other. 

The frat house is quiet today, just the hum of the tv, meaning satoru is out today. But for sukuna it's loud. He hadn't heard your name in a while. A lingering guilt settles deep inside of him. One that is perpetual. 

He allows himself to slump on top of the black sheets that cover his bed, glancing at the scattered music posters that clutter his grungy room. The other frat boys bedrooms weren't this teenage emo vibe, but his was. And it's how it's always been - he likes it like that - his guitar cornered by band tees stranded on the floor. Stratched, broken CDs in a large pile on his desk, ones that he doesn't use but he can't make himself get rid of them. 

The memories of you and him sharing them, he would give you a korn cd and you would let him borrow type 0 negative. Making a comment about how bad you want Peter Steele. Despite how shy or nervous or scared you were around others, sukuna was always the place you were 100% yourself. He missed that. Reality. People who aren't hopped up on stuff to feel things, conversations that weren't about boring topics he didn't care about. 

Deep down, he missed you.

Drowning out the loud, he reaches over onto his bedside table. Which is currently incomplete and in a pile beside his bed, a few lone beer bottles clogging the underconstructed table. And picked up one of the newer bottles, a few sips of lukewarm beer left. Slurping the rest of the drink, sukuna leans his head back onto his bedframe and lets out a big sigh.

His mind stood on the thought of you. Your name didn't stick in his head before, when he passed you in the corridors - head down, ashamed of yourself. But the singular thought of toji having you, fucked him up. 

Maybe as a kid, he thought about what it would be like kissing you. But he always put it down to puberty. The thought rushed through his head when you rubbed your lips together after applying your signature cherry scented lipgloss, when you told him about your day, when you laughed. Just puberty, he would have thought that about any girl. 

But it was you. It was always you.

How could it not be?

The man sighed with regret, swooping his arm down so it dangles off his bed. The bottle clanking off the wood from the bedframe. Clank clank clank. The only sound when he tries to clear his mind. 

Just like before, you're sat in the same spot, books out - ready. Nervously glancing around as a spark of overwhelm floods your mind. Two deep breaths didn't help. The lucky third one didn't either. Fuck, why were you so nervous? 

It was just a tutoring session but after the last few times, the way you stumbled over your words, the way your cheeks burned at the slightest bit of attention. You were pathetic. Surely he thought that too. The way you rubbed yourself raw after too only further proves it. 

Hands smoothing over the page, the notes, much more than the last time. You didn't want to sound dumb again, fumble your words, stutter and skip through pages to find what you were talking about. Sweat rising to the exterior of your skin as you felt his eyes focus on your shaking form.H e must've thought you were such a pussy. You jump at the small ding of your phone, tojis name appearing.

TOJI - 11:34 || where ya at

YOU - 11:35 || the same place we meet up!

TOJI - 11:35 || fucken hrre nd cant see you, look like q div

YOU - 11:35 || just enter and you'll see me!!

TOJI - 11:35 || i jus came through the door

You scowl, eyebrows raised as you reread the message. You hadn't seen him come in, the bell of the door hadn't rung since you entered. Glancing to the right, then the left, yet still no toji. Then just as you're about to stand up, another ping vibrates throughout the table. Earning a glare from the librarian, you ignore her and pick up the phone. Swiping to answer the eager call. 

"Where the fuck are you" tojis voice blasts through the phone, louder than you unexpected. Scrambling to turn the volume down, "I-im in the library?" your voice quietens almost to a whisper before you get up and walk outside. 

Letting the air hit you as you breathe in just to hear toji grumble something, his voice sounded distorted, "No you arent cause i cant see ya, doll." Okay, you admit it, your cheeks burned at the tone toji called you doll. The nickname tugging your heart strings. 

Letting in a breath, you let it out through your words in a soft, “send me your location?” 

You could feel the eyeroll through the call, a ragged sigh stumbling its way through the speaker. Then another ping, his location. Annnnnddd it's the library on the other side of town…

“Uhm- that's the wrong place.” 

“Fucken what?”

“Wrong library, I'm at the one in the school? Not with the cafe.” you murmur softly, your voice on the verge of cracking. You hear a rumble through the phone, then a louder one. “Okay, come round ere.”

You almost gasped in shock, “What? We- we always meet here though?” you let a hand mould your face as you let a much needed breath out, your hand smushing your cheeks together in stress. “M hungry and i hate the old bat at the other place, fuckers gunna get her face smashed if she shushes me once more.” he says calmly. 

Maybe you were a pushover, a doormat. Because you agreed. Stumbling back into the library to pack up and the scene restarts  at the other library.

As you walk in, you're met with toji at a corner table, his legs spread and his hands holding his phone, he looks bored. On the table lay two brownies and a can of monster. Walking over makes his eyes glance up to you.

Dressed in a simple v neck jumper, striped black and blue. Paired with some flared jeans, it was simple, casual. But yet it made toji look you up and down, wandering over your chest not so subtly. 

As you sit, he straightens up. He's gotten better at concentrating recently, he's writing notes and actually listening this time! He talks when you get out your books, “I got you a brownie, you said you liked em or some shit.”

A warm feeling rushes inside of you, “oh? Uhm thank you.” A slight awkward smile layered your face, placing the books down on the table and getting out a few pens. His eyes focus on you, your expression.

“You not like it or someit?”

“What? Nono- i uh do! Sorry, thank you seriously!” you ramble nervously, a smile warming your face as you feel your armpits heat up. 

Toji gives a barking laugh out loud at your quick stammer, “Relax im fucking with you.” His chuckle cheering you up. He laughed with his teeth, his spiky teeth on show as you looked at him - growing hearts in your eyes. “Oh!” mumbling as you embarrassed yourself. He takes his own brownie and groans at the taste, “Fucking lush.” the chocolate covered his lips, he proceeds to lick it off.

Tingles flutter through you and down to your core as you watch his tongue flick over his lip, it travels over his scar, the very one you watch when he talks. The pale colour takes over you, you wonder what's the story behind it. What he went through.

Tojis eyes peak up at yours, pupils dilating at the connection. “Motorbike crash.” he stated bluntly. You couldn't get a word in before he starts talking again, like it was something so simple. “The scar? You're wondering how I got it?”

“Ah- sorry-” but before you could ramble any longer the raven man interrupted with a breath and a rasp voice, “everyone asks, don't worry.” 

Your eyes focus on his scar again, tracing the memories while you pick up your own brownie and allow him to talk. “Stole my uncle's bike when I was a kid.” Toji starts, bearing his teeth as he lets a brief chuckle out at the reminder. “Fucking went round a corner too fast and crashed it into a wall, got this-” he points to the very scar you were daydreaming in. “and a few extra on the rest of me.”

A nod said everything in that moment, peeking away from the story and taking a last and final bite into the brownie while toji leaned over, taking your pen. “What ya teaching me this time, doll?”

There it is. The fucking nickname again. The one that makes poems fall from your heart and your insides twist into the right spiral. “Ah- the-” you stumble, great. “The fall of the Berlin wall.” 

Your fingers twitch as you grab another pen for yourself, tojis voice picking up. His eyes bore into your face, his voice rasp. “Fucken already?” 

“Well- you've been concentrating the past few lessons and we- we've gotten past everything really fast.” your pace was fast, if he wasn't concentrating on you - he wouldn't be able to catch what you had said. As a response, he hums. Gently, despite his rough appearance and personality.

“Maybe I just got a crush on you.” he winks at you. It was stupid, pathetic even, how easily he could make your heart burn.

You don't respond to his remark, well not vocally, instead you move onto the topic at hand - the fall of berlin wall. “Uhm- lets do a recap?” 

You don't wait for a reply and instantly ask, “when was the berlin wall built?” tojis quicker, his voice almost merging into yours, “august 1961.”

Surprised, you glance down at the paper with the questions scrawled on, correct. Wow, he seriously was concentrating. “Why was it built.” The question was firm, more a dare than study revision. “T’ keep capitalism out nd to keep the east in.”

Your eyebrow quirks. Then you once again - glance down. Correct. “One impact of the Berlin wall.” 

This time, it's quicker than the others, he says it proudly. Confidently. “Was a physical and symbolic barrier between the two sides and it divided them.” This time you don't check the paper. You know it's right, you remember your first session with him. Telling him that just moments before he had to go. “I- uhm yeah.” your voice is quiet, humble, soft.  Honestly you can't believe any information you gave him went into his brain. “Shocked right?”

Fucking obviously.

You two go through some topics on the fall, starting on the how. Now onto the why. 

During the tutor session, tojis been keeping his eyes on you. You can't exactly lie and say you haven't been looking at him either. I mean, you noticed the red glint in his eyes but when aren't they? 

“So obviously you- you know it was the symbol of the division so it was important because it united-” your ramble stops when toji cuts in, "you're real pretty yk?”

His tongue traces the scar, his eyes falling into yours as he speaks darkly. He commented it as if he truly believed it. As if he truly thought you were pretty - gorgeous. 

The compliment made your heart twitch, your hands shake while sweat formed eagerly. “Ah- oh.” It took you a while to get the cogs working again but you finally finished the ramble you were going on and on about. 

Watching toji stop writing and swing the pen between his fingers, slows your words down into silence. “You should write this down.” you try to not sound demanding, but not also a pushover. It just comes across like a dumb mix which makes toji stiff out a small, subtle laugh. “Ill remember it.” the man twirling your pen hums. 

“Okay but-” “you seriously are.”

“What?” you ask, finger pausing on the page you were nervously following along too. “Pretty.” 

“Toji, i dont think-” “well you are.”

“Toji!” you exhale with an even more rugged than him breath. “Can you please just concentrate!” 

Just in that moment - toji felt angels flutter around his head. A smug smirk grows onto his face, plastered over the top. “Anyways-” tapping your finger down at his notebook, the pen in his hand follows.

"Anyways," your lone voice trails off into nothing. You can see him looking at you, more entranced. As if Toji was hypnotised. "what- what was I saying?"

"Dunno, weren't listening." You sigh – dramatically. one but huff as you scan your eyes over his 'notes' you thought he was writing. just scribbles.

For fuck's sake. "Toji! You haven't wrote a fucking thing!!" Hands flutter as you close a book, a little more violently than you expected or wanted. A breathless laugh parts from your trembling lips.

"You- you force me to walk across fucking town to tutor you, and you don't even pay attention!" Raising your voice makes your cheeks swell; it's loud enough for toji to hear you clearly – not enough to grab attention from people around you.

Toji doesn't talk; he just lets you get out everything on your chest. But inside his head, all he is doing is watching your pretty lips rant, he doesn't care if it's about him.

"See! You aren't even fucking listening now!" 'Desperate' could describe your tone. Then you stand up, his eyes following. and him. He copies your actions, standing up – towering over you.

Thinning your lips makes toji finally look into your eyes. There's something behind them. years of something. "You're real hot when you raise your voice."

That did it. Your cheeks puffed out, eyebrows twitched, "You!-" toji cuts you off, "Come t' the party tonight."

"What." you breathe exasperatedly. "The frat party. Come, be the pretty thin' on my arm."

"Send me your address nd ill pick ya up round 11?" A small sound parts from your lips. Tojis smug, calm even. He's relaxed while your brain malfunctioned.

This was a joke, wasn't it? Mess with the lone girl?

"Come nd I will listen next time? Promise."

You're going to get there, and everyone will laugh, won't they? A massive fucking joke.

"Wear something pretty." He reaches over to tap your hand, which is clenching a pen, you had somehow picked up, so tightly it might snap. Snapping your head up, he smiles.

Not the smug one that you and everyone are used to. a small genuine one. His eyes squint as he does. "Okay," you breathe out. Back to your silent self, already regretting lashing out in the smallest way ever. "Good, I'll see ya."

His large hands come up and rub the top of your head, his fingers slipping through your hair. And he strides out.

[quintetz]

— “ FEED THE FLAME ” p.1

summary: Clark is almost kissed by another woman, and god, you don’t know how you’ll ever forgive him!

contains: angst, jealousy, flirting, clark’s niceness creating issues, sfw.

— part two. masterlist.

୨୧ the daily planet newsroom was its usual chaos: phones ringing, the hum of printers, Perry White barking orders at someone from his office. Clark sat at his desk, glasses sliding down his nose as he tapped away at his keyboard, foot thumping rapidly on the wood flooring unknowingly because of some kind of deadline-induced anxiety.

you had perched yourself on the edge of your own desk, scrolling through your phone, pretending to be invested in tweaking captions for the planets instagram feed. in truth, you were watching. always. because Lois Lane was across the bullpen, and Lois Lane was dangerous.

gorgeous, self-assured, hair tousled in a way that suggested she didn’t style it that way but that the wind simply favoured women like her, Lois walked around like she owned the place. and lately, she’d been circling Clark: laughing a little too hard at his corny jokes, leaning a little too close while pretending to look over his shoulder at his computer screen, even brushing her hand against his chest and acting like it was some sort of casual gesture. you’d noticed everything.

and Clark, sweet, oblivious Clark hadn’t noticed any of it. or maybe he had and he was just too nice to stop it. either way, the sight of Lois leaning on Clark’s desk, hip casually against the edge, one hand resting on his shoulder as she pointed out something in his notebook made something unpleasant burn inside you. Lois laughed, low and warm and fuck, so pretty. it was the kind of laugh that held far more weight than the actual joke warranted, the kind of laugh that said: please, Clark, just rip my panties off and fuck me already! you rolled your eyes to no one.

Clark, ever oblivious, gave her a smile, dimples on display. he said something about being “not sure that’s my best angle, Lois.” as he adjusted his glasses. he didn’t even flinch at the way her hand lingered on his shoulder. you wanted to believe he thought it was nothing but collegial warmth, but you knew that Clark was smarter than that.

it was obvious to even the stupidest person: Lois was flirting.

you tried to just swallow it down, tried to remind yourself that Clark was yours, that he went home with you at the end of the day. but then Lois leaned in closer, so close that her glossy hair grazed his cheek, and Clark gave that bashful little laugh he only ever did when he was nervous around a pretty woman. something hot and sour twisted in your gut.

the day dragged on with you watching every interaction like a hawk. Lois found excuses to swing by Clark’s desk: asking about notes, asking about phrasing, asking about deadlines or if he wanted anything from the cafe when she did a little coffee run during her break. Clark answered her every. single. time. all in that patient voice.

it all came to a head at lunch. the office had quieted, most people out either chasing stories or a good sandwich. Clark had stepped into one of the smaller side offices because his computer had started acting up again, the kind with a glass door and a battered little filing cabinet. he was attempting to understand the old (but thankfully functioning) computer when Lois slipped in behind him.

you didn’t mean to follow, not consciously. i mean, you trusted Clark, he was nice, he was faithful, but something strong had you drifting towards the corridor, phone clutched tight in your hand like some kind of security blanket.

you caught sight of Lois through the pane of glass replacing one of the offices outer walls. she was too close to him, one hand lightly tugging at his sleeve. you froze. and listened.

“Clark,” she said, voice low like she was trying to hide it, “you’re… you’re really something, you know that?”

Clark blinked, a little nervous, “i—uh—i’m not sure what you mean Lois. I just—”

and then she leaned in. not forceful, not aggressive, but soft and tentative, the gesture of a woman reaching for a man she thought might meet her halfway.

Clark startled, eyes wide behind his glasses, “Lois!” he stammered, stepping back so fast that he walked right into the desk behind him. the old computer rattled; a pen fell to the floor; Clark’s face turned crimson. “i—i can’t—i’m sorry—” he stammered.

you had seen enough: Lois leaning in, Clark not moving soon enough, and “i’m sorry”?? not “get away from me i have a girlfriend!!” ugh. it was like he was saying he wanted her to fuck him but was sorry a girlfriend was in the way.

you didn’t remember walking back to your desk, you didn’t remember packing up your bag, all that was in your memory was Clark finding you half an hour later, breathless and anxious, glasses slipping down his nose as he caught you by the elevators.

he called your name, told you to wait in a confused but desperate voice, “please, just—what’s wrong?

did i do something?” you turned, expression sharp enough to cut. “you know what you did.”

“i,” he faltered, searching your face, “Lois— i mean, i— i stopped her, i swear.”

“you didn’t stop her fast enough,” you yelled, voice venomous. you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, “you’re not stupid, Clark. you know she’s been throwing herself at you for weeks. you obviously like the attention. or maybe you like her, is that it?”

his face fell, wounded, “no! no, baby—”

“don’t call me that Clark,” you interrupted. you could tell that hurt him.

“it’s not like that with Lois,” he continued, “i didn’t—i don’t want her. i want you! please, you have to believe me.”

you shook your head, lips pressed tight, “i can’t do this. not if you’re going to be such a— such a pussy! you can’t just let people treat you like that when you’re with me!”

he went pale. he reached for you but you pulled back from his touch like it burned. “please, don’t say that,” his voice shook, “don’t leave me, please.” and then it broke on that last word. but you’d already stepped into the elevator, arms crossed, heart pounding so loud you couldn’t even think.

the elevator slid shut between you, his devastated face the last thing you saw before those cold metal doors.

[st4rfckerz]

On The Dot

ʚ word count: 3.7k

ʚ summary: you and clark slowly become more familiar with each other

ʚ warnings: making out, fingering, blowjob, praise, rushed ending 😛

You haven’t stopped thinking about it.

The memory sneaks up on you when you’re rinsing dishes, folding laundry, brushing your hair before bed. That kiss. His hands. The way they felt on your skin — hot and grounding, like they belonged there.

It lingers in your muscles, in your breath, in the way your fingers twitch when you’re alone and restless.

And you’ve spent a few nights up late because of it. Lights off, window cracked, sheets pulled halfway down, trying to chase the ghost of his touch with your own. But it’s just not the same.

But now is not the time.

You stand near the big oak in your grandparents’ yard, a cold drink settled in your grip and the sound of laughter carrying through the heavy evening air. The grill’s going, someone’s passing around sweet tea, and your little cousins are chasing each other barefoot through the grass.

It’s one of those slow, familiar gatherings — extended family, old neighbors, childhood friends who haven’t changed all that much. The Kents are here too, of course. They always are.

Clark stands a few yards away, talking with your uncle and one of the older neighbors, his hand cradling the same red, plastic cup as yours. His laugh is low and soft, just enough for you to hear from where you sit.

And even though you try not to watch him, you are. Quietly.

Your eyes find him in the lull between conversations, the clink of silverware and murmured talk fading behind the hum in your ears.

Every now and then, his gaze flicks toward you. Not for long — just a second. Just enough to make your stomach pull tight.

Your eyes meet once, twice, and the third time he holds it a beat too long.

Clark’s smile flickers, then steadies. He says something to the men beside him, nods once, and then excuses himself. His stride is casual, but direct — like he doesn’t want to give himself time to second-guess it.

He approaches with that knowing, sunlit grin that hasn’t changed since you last saw him in that kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, eyes crinkling just slightly as he stops next to you. “You hidin’ from me?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms loosely as you shift your weight onto one foot. “No,” you say, your tone dry but barely holding back a smile. You could feel the warm blush creeping up your neck. “This just happens to be the only spot with decent shade.”

You look away for a second, pretending to watch your cousins chasing each other across the yard, but you can still feel his eyes on you — soft, a little amused, and unmistakably warm.

His grin fades at the edges, and something more serious settles behind his eyes.

He hesitates for the briefest moment, then looks right at you. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I? In the kitchen? ”

The question hangs there, fragile and sincere. No teasing. No bravado. Just Clark — looking at you like your answer matters more than anything else going on around you.

“Of course not Clark.” you say, almost instantly. Your voice is soft but steady, your eyes holding his.

Clark’s shoulders ease a little, like he hadn’t realized how tense they were until just now. He nods once, looking down for a moment before glancing back at you. “Okay… good. I just—I wasn’t sure. It’s been on my mind.”

You feel a flicker of confidence spark somewhere low in your chest. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, just like how he was that morning in the kitchen.

“It’s been on mine too,” you admit, your voice barely above the hum of conversation behind you.

Clark’s lips quirk up at the corners again — smaller this time, but real. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Kind of hard to forget.”

There’s a pause, the kind that feels like it could tilt either way.

Clark leans in just a little closer, voice low. “So…What now?”

“Well, that depends.” you respond, your body fully turning towards him.

Clark lifts an eyebrow, curious. “On what?”

“On whether you’re still the type to leave your window unlocked,” you say, tone light but laced with something bolder underneath.

His grin breaks slow, amused. “Depends who’s coming through it.”

You’re about to hit him with something equally smug when a voice rings out across the yard.

“Hey! Come take the picture with us!”

It’s one of your little cousins, waving frantically from the other side of the lawn.

“Midnight. Tonight.”

Clark doesn’t flinch. His eyes flick over your face like he’s memorizing it, and that slow, crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He exhales through his nose. “I’ll be up.”

You don’t wait for more.

You turn, calm and sure, the afternoon air curling at the hem of your dress as you make your way back across the lawn. And just before the space between you gets too wide, you throw him a look over your shoulder.

Clark doesn’t move. He just watches you go, jaw tight, heart racing.

—

The room is dark, lit only by the soft red glow of the alarm clock beside your bed and your open window. You’re lying on your side, head resting on your hand, eyes fixed on the blinking numbers as they inch closer to midnight.

11:59

You hold your breath.

12:00

The moment the digits shift, you slip out from under the sheets, moving like muscle memory. Your feet touch the floor as you grab your sweatshirt and quietly ease open your bedroom door.

The house is silent. Not a creak. Not a murmur.

You already know your grandparents are knocked out — probably asleep before the sun even went down. Still, you tread carefully down the stairs, skipping the fourth step out of habit because it always groans under pressure.

Outside, the summer air hugs you warm and thick as you step off the porch and cut across the yard. The Kent house glows faintly through the trees, familiar even in shadow.

You move through the dark like you’ve done it a hundred times, feet brushing softly through the grass until you reach the side of the Kent house. The wooden trellis is still there, sturdy from years of climbing vines and kids with scraped knees and too much imagination.

You grip it without thinking, fingers sliding into old notches, your feet finding familiar footholds. You climb expertly, barely making a sound, the night air thick and quiet around you.

When you reach the window, you push it open slowly. It gives with a faint creak, just enough to make your heart skip—but no lights turn on. No footsteps stir.

You slip inside, landing quietly on the wooden floor of Clark’s room.

And he’s not there.

The room is dim and still. You take a few cautious steps forward, your eyes adjusting, your breath held tight in your chest.

Then the door swings open.

Clark walks in holding a glass of water, and he stops short when he sees you. His eyes widen, just for a second.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, pressing a hand to his chest.

You raise an eyebrow, smiling softly. “Did you forget?”

He closes the door behind him and sets the glass down. “No,” he says, stepping toward you with a small grin, “just didn’t think you’d actually show up on the dot.”

You smirk at his response, brushing your hands on your thighs.

“I’m punctual when it counts,” you say, letting your voice trail off with a hint of playfulness.

Clark watches you closely, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back more than he’s saying.

You take a quiet breath and glance around the room. It’s been a while, but the bones of it are exactly how you remember. The same desk pushed against the wall, cluttered with books and half-scribbled notebooks. Even the throw blanket on the bed looks the same — though it’s hanging a little looser now, a little more worn.

Only a few new things stand out: a few mechanic guide books on the floor, a newer lamp by the bedside. Still Clark’s room, though. Still him.

You glance back at him with a crooked smile. “Still messy.”

Clark lets out a short laugh, leaning against the dresser. “It’s an organized mess. I know where everything is.” You can only roll your eyes.

You walk over to the wall, eyes scanning the photographs tacked up between old ticket stubs and a faded map. Some of the pictures are familiar — Clark with his parents, school trips, a few grainy ones from old summer days. You pause at one, tilting your head slightly as you study it.

Behind you, Clark settles down onto his bed, his elbows resting on his pillows. The room’s low lighting casts a soft glow across your skin, and for a moment, he can’t look away.

His pulse quickens unmistakably, maddeningly as he watches the way your fingers lightly trail the edge of a photo, the way your lips curl into a small smile as you admire the pictures. He swallows hard, breath quiet and slow, like even that might give him away.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the way Clark’s looking at you, and lift an eyebrow, amused.

“You gonna keep staring at me,” you say, turning back to the wall, “or are you gonna say something?”

Your tone is playful, a little edged, like you already know the answer. You cross your arms loosely as your eyes move over the photos, letting the silence stretch a little longer.

Clark leans back on his hands, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Kind of hard to have a conversation when you’re all the way over there,” he says, his voice low, teasing.

His eyes stay on you, warm and steady, like he’s not just talking about distance.

You squint your eyes at him before taking a slow, deliberate step toward him.

When you reach his bed, you lower yourself onto the edge of it — close, but not quite touching him. Your knee brushes his for only a second as you settle, and your hands rest lightly in your lap.

The room feels still. Charged.

Clark glances over at you, then back down at his hands. You shift your legs, cross and uncross them, trying to ignore how warm your skin feels in the still air.

Clark’s hands are resting on his lap, fingers tapping idly against each other. You’re staring at a spot on the wall like it’s giving you answers. He shifts, just a little, like he’s about to speak, but then doesn’t.

“This is weird, right?” you say finally, glancing over at him.

Clark huffs a breath, not quite a laugh. “A little.”

Your knee bumps his again barely but you don’t move it.

He looks over at you, his voice quieter this time.“I thought you’d say something first.”

You shrug. “I was waiting for you.”

He nods slowly, eyes still on you now. The space between you feels smaller somehow, but neither of you fills it. Not yet.

Your eyes meet his, finally. There’s a pause — just long enough to feel it. Neither of you smile, not right away. It’s just quiet. A glance that lingers, a breath held.

Then Clark leans in, slow and unsure, and you meet him halfway.

The kiss is soft at first. Careful. Like you’re both still making sure this is real. His hand brushes your knee, tentative, and your fingers find the edge of his sleeve without thinking.

It deepens only slightly, but the room seems to shift with it. The weight of all that tension easing, melting between you in the hush of that moment.

Clark’s hand moves to your waist as the kiss deepens, his touch firmer now, more certain. He shifts, tugging gently until you’re straddling his lap. The heat between you keeps building, and without thinking, your hips roll against his — just once.

Clark groans, low and broken, his mouth pulling away from yours as his hands clamp down on your hips to hold you still.

“Don’t do that,” he breathes, voice rough and ragged against your throat. “You — god, you can’t do that.”

You shift just slightly in his lap, feeling the way his fingers tense against your hips, how hard he’s working not to move.

“Why not?”

Clark exhales sharply, jaw clenched, eyes squeezing shut like he’s praying for strength. You lean in, lips brushing his as you speak, all teasing and sweet,

“You don’t think we’re here to talk, do you?”

Clark exhales hard through his nose, eyes flicking up to meet yours and he looks wrecked, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

But the way his grip tightens on your hips says he wants you to mean it. Badly.

Clark doesn’t answer with words — he just pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, more intense. His hands roam your body with growing urgency, sliding beneath your shirt, up your sides, like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

You shift in his lap again, and his breath catches in his throat, but he keeps kissing you through it, mouth hot and hungry against yours.

Then his hands slip lower.

Slowly, he slides them under the waistband of your panties, his fingertips skimming over your bare skin.

“You’re so pretty like this.” he murmurs, words rich and slow, like he’s savoring every syllable.

The sound of it melts in your head, sticky-sweet and impossible to shake. It curls around your thoughts, settling low in your stomach and making everything ache.

Your face heats immediately, the compliment hitting somewhere deeper than it should. And when his fingers slip between your folds and he feels how soaked you already are — you freeze, just a little.

Clark watches your expression shift, sees the way your breath stutters and your eyes flutter as his fingers explore.

“Hey…it’s okay,” he whispers, that caramel drawl melting through you. “Just relax for me.”

Then his hand moves with purpose, he gathers all that slickness and glides it slowly up to your clit, circling it with a featherlight touch that makes your whole body tense and melt at the same time.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, still close, still gentle. “Let me take care of you.”

Clark’s fingers slide in slowly, and curl gently inside you, stretching you already. His thumb circles your clit in steady, measured strokes that make your breath hitch. You’re trembling, caught somewhere between desperate and delicate, and Clark’s grip on your hips tightens just enough to hold you steady.

He slips a hand up your shirt, fingertips grazing your ribs before cupping your breast. His mouth follows, hot and hungry, pressing soft, wet kisses along your skin before settling over your nipple.

He sucks gently at first, teasing the sensitive bud, tongue flicking over it in slow, deliberate circles that send sparks shooting through you.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your skin, voice low and thick with want. “You’re so fucking good.”

His fingers pick up pace inside you, curling and pressing just right, while his mouth sucks harder, nibbling gently now, and you feel your control slipping.

Your knees start to tremble, your hands clutching at his shoulders as waves crash through you, deep and overwhelming.

“Clark,” you moan, voice breaking, “I can’t —”

But before you can finish, your body crumbles, shuddering in his arms as the orgasm rips through you, raw and fierce. Your breath hitches, your hips jerk, and Clark holds you steady, never letting up on his touch.

When you finally come down, your body trembling and spent, he pulls back just enough to look at you — eyes dark, satisfied, and completely focused on you.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quiet but warm. You nod, breath shaky, hands still fisted in his shirt. But it’s the way you look at him that makes his jaw flex. He brushes his nose along your collarbone, lips following as he gently pulls his fingers out of your cunt.

Clark eases his fingers out, slick and shining in the low light. He brings them to his lips without thinking, tongue flicking over them lazily — but before he can do anything else, your hand wraps around his wrist.

His brows lift slightly, surprised, and then you guide his fingers toward your own mouth instead. You hold his gaze the whole time, lips parting slow, deliberately, as you take them in.

His breath hitches. You swirl your tongue around them, and his jaw clenches — not from restraint, but from sheer awe.

You press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then trail lower — down the curve of his jaw, to the warm skin of his neck. His breath hitches as you move lower, brushing down the column of his throat, where his pulse beats wild under your mouth.

You keep moving, your movements fluid as you shift lower, easing yourself between him and the bed. Your hand slides over his abdomen, fingers dipping just low enough to brush along the bulge straining beneath his waistband.

Clark’s hand moves gently over yours, stopping you just for a second. His eyes meet yours, wide and a little glassy, his voice rough but sincere. “You don’t have to do that,”

“Shh,” you murmur, meeting his eyes. “I want to.”

Whatever hesitation was left in his eyes dissolves into something deeper. Hungrier. He swallows hard, his grip loosening slightly on your hand as he lets you keep going — his body already giving in to yours.

You work the knot of his drawstring loose and ease the waistband down just enough. He shifts under you, tension rippling through him like a live wire. You reach in and wrap your hand around the plush weight of him.

Clark groans, deep and low, head tilting back. He could feel every inch of your touch like a brand, searing and electric. His cock throbbed, already fully erect and straining towards your hand.

Your hand stills for a second. Even through the warmth of your palm, the size of him makes your breath catch — thick, and heavy in a way that has your heart skipping a beat.

You readjust yourself, your hands skimming over his sides until your mouth finds the sharp curve of his hip bone. You kiss there first, then move to the other. Clark tenses, a sharp inhale breaking the quiet, and you can feel his eyes locked on you.

You hesitate for only a second longer and finally lean in, your breath brushing against his skin.

Your tongue traces a slow, deliberate stripe along the side of his cock, and he groans, low and wrecked — his hand tightening slightly in the sheets.

“God,” he mutters, voice all gravel and disbelief. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Your lips hover for a beat, heat rolling off him, before you finally part them and sink down just enough to wrap them around the head of his cock.

Clark’s breath catches, his hips twitching before he forces them still, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head with a restraint that feels almost fragile.

You hum softly around him, letting the vibration travel, tasting the faint salt of his skin as your tongue teases the ridge beneath.

You keep your pace unhurried, tongue tracing over him before you seal your lips tighter around his tip and draw back just slightly, letting the sensation linger.

When you start to move a little faster and let your hand work in tandem with your mouth, the sound he makes is almost a whimper, his hips jerking despite himself. “If you keep d-doing that,” he breaks off on a gasp, “Jesus fuck,”

The way he says it — half a warning, half a plea, only makes you hollow your cheeks and ease forward again.

You don’t slow down. If anything, you pick up your pace, your lips sliding lower with each pass until you’re swallowing him as far as you can manage. His fingers curl tight in the bedding, his knuckles pale.

The warning dissolves into a sharp groan, and then he’s suddenly spilling into your mouth, the heat of it filling you as his voice unravels into breathless praise. “Perfect… god, you’re perfect… so so good for me,”

You keep going until he’s spent and trembling, only pulling back when you feel his hand cup your jaw in a soft, grounding touch.

When you finally pull back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, Clark’s still catching his breath, cheeks flushed a deep pink. At first you think it’s just from the heat of the moment — until his gaze flicks away, almost shy.

“That was, um, earlier than I -,” he admits, voice low like he’s hoping you won’t tease him.

You can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips. “It’s okay, ” you tell him honestly, leaning up to press a kiss to his warm cheek. “It’s cute.”

That only makes his blush deepen, the corners of his mouth twitching despite the embarrassment.

You both sit in silence for a moment, the quiet settling comfortably around you. His hand still gently brushes your cheek, and you watch the subtle rise and fall of his breath.

Then Clark’s voice breaks the stillness, low and steady. “You should probably get back before anyone notices you’re gone.”

You glance toward the window, then back at him, your expression soft. “Already?”

He nods, eyes warm but serious. “Just, don’t want you to get in trouble.”

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be careful.”

You stand slowly, giving him one last look. His eyes hold yours, quiet and full, as if trying to memorize every detail before you go. The air between you hums with everything unsaid.

“See you tomorrow.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, and he replies just as quietly,

“Can’t wait.”

[cositanuestra]

It’s no secret I am OBSESSED with love island Rafe. I was wondering if you could maybe write about reader and Rafe during the heart rate challenge, similar to Serena and Kordell part because let’s be realistic…

Only those two can make each other heart race. Thank youuu, beautiful with your work. ~ Lala💋

౨ৎ SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY .ᐟ

. ꒷ 🍰 . ˙— love island!rafe x reader. CW suggestive content! no smut but alludes to, rafe and reader r freaked out, reader got a fatty teehee this req was so fun!!! send some more bbs hope u guys enjoy (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

your jaw dropped when you saw him walk in, cowboy attire n all. ‘woooo!’ you heard the boys scream from the balcony. the girls around you looked shocked, and so did you when you raised your view from your lap to rafe. “ladies, theres a snake in my pants!” the rest of the girls hollered, in which you held your hand over your mouth attempting to contain your giggle.

rafe begin from the start of the couch, beginning with kiara. kiara screamed, rafe picking her leg up and making a half assed effort to hump her. kiara looked away, screaming and laughing. but then rafe walked over to you, putting his cowboy hat on your head and picking you up, big hands grabbing the back of your thighs, short dress riding up your thighs. “miss me?” he asked—making all the girls holler.

“Yes girl!” cleo screamed. rafe laid you down on the cold villa floor, your legs still gripping his torso. you squealed, gripping onto his cowboy hat that was now on your own head. rafe grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, making the commotion surrounding you two louder. “yes man!” jj yelled from the balcony. rafe gripped your hips, making a thrusting motion above you. you flushed in embarrassment, such intimate acts being displayed and being in the center of attention.

rafe chuckled watching you giggle flusteredly, the hand gripping your hip moving up to your neck, him kissing you sloppily and slowly, lightly choking you. you attempted to contain the burning sensation that was beginning to rise when held cowboy belt buckle grunted at the perfect spot in your panties, rafe gripping your ass. “rafe” you whimpered quietly enough where only rafe would’ve heard of he was paying attention—which luckily for him he always was when it came to you. he palmed your clothed pussy with his hand, before getting up and pulling you up with him. “save a horse, ride a cowboy, huh?” he yelled.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆‧₊˚

“anyone craving some baked goods?” you say, walking out, save the best things for last right? your pink heels clicked loudly on the floor as you walked towards to the fire pit, pink mini skirt and apron on and ready. pink spatula in hand, you walked over to jj first, who had a bright smile on his face. you sat on his lap, tits spilling out of your sorry excuse for a bra.

you set your hands on jj’s shoulders, standing up from where you were perched on his lap, shaking ass. the girls hollered from the balcony. kiara squealed. sarah laughed in shock, “like water!” you then moved to kelce, who was wagging his imaginary tail like a excited dog. “you feeling that sugar rush?” you say, pressing your back to kelces chest, taking his hand from behind and pressing it against your own chest, making him cup your tit ever so lightly.

you looked over to see rafe, absolutely shell shocked but also burning with frustration and jealousy. he looked like he was about to kill kelce. you looked over at him, big eyes and taking kelces finger and licking it clean.

the boys hollering louder, screaming and laughing. you quickly got up, walking over to rafe. “I got something else thats sweet for you to taste, rafey.” you say, pulling him up with your hand, ushering him to follow you to the floor. “lay down,” you say, rafe immediately obeying. you began to grind on his abs, flipping yourself so his face was facing your ass.

you took the little pink spatula that you hand in your hand and began to lightly spank yourself with it, throwing your ass in a circle. the commotion grew even louder than before, if that was even possible, when rafe gripped your hips, letting himself feel you. you flipped over, now facing rafe. you let your hands roam his bare chest, massaging sensually. you arched your back, taking a hand that he had on your waist and putting his fingers in your mouth, eyeing him down as they slid in and out between your glossy lips.

rafe closed his eyes, throwing his hand back which made jj and pope laugh. “he’s living the life.” pope chuckled. rafe smirked when he felt the warm spot in your panties making contact with his torso. was it erotic that you were giving him a lap dance on live television for a while crowd while he felt your wetness pool in your lacy pink panties? absolutely without a doubt. was it turning the both of you on? absolutely.

he could see the look in your eyes beginning to fuck out when rafe shifted his lips to nudge your wet spot, your pretty eyes beginning to tear up. for a moment you had forgotten you two had a whole audience, and as embarrassing it might’ve been for you, rafe fucking loved it. showing off his girl infront of all the boys you danced on, a reminder that he could look but they couldn’t touch. and they definitely would never have the privilege of being in his position right now—he’d make sure of it. you began to stand up, pulling rafe up with you. flushed face returning to your regular demeanor. your heart was beating out your chest, all you could do was pray that your parents didn’t watch this episode. rafe? oh he didn’t forget the attention you gave to jj and kelce—he’ll have his way with you sooner or later.

loveisland!rafe masterlist ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ♡

cositanuestra — est. 2025 © do not copy or publish my work to any other platform .ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ♡

[elyseesarchive]

im framing this

i cld never shave bush not just bc im morally opposed to it but also bc what would i play with when im lying in bed thinking…a bush is the beard of the modern day philosopher

[stxrrywoo]

SCARLET ROSÉ ── c.sn

synopsis ; your neediness knows no bounds, even when he dragged you to an underground party. so you let your brattiness get the best of you and started to tease your dear ole fiance... even when you knew what lies ahead of you.

pairing(s) ; fiancé!san x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 1.8k ☆ ── genre ; just pure filthy smut (like god lawd) with a sprinkle of plot, fluff if you squint, mafia boss!san ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, kissing, cussing, petnames (princess...), derogatory names (slut...), daddy kink, mean dom!san x sub!reader, oral (f. receiving), rough sex, bondage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight clit play, brat tammer!san, lmk if I missed anything!!

The dimly lit room was filled with booming music that rattled the floor underneath your heels as you stood next to your fiance’s seated form. Your hand resting upon his shoulder, the diamond on your ring finger glittering under the strobe lights. Moving closer to the arm of the chair, you sat down, crossing your legs as your small red dress crept up your thighs.

San had dragged you to this party at the last second with whispered promises that he would make it up to you, but you were growing impatient. The small amount of alcohol that you drank hadn’t helped any either; if anything, it just made the constant throbbing need worse. Then, when you tried to coax San into going back home, he refused, saying he had to stay to ‘show face,’ but you couldn’t care less about any of that.

“Sannie…” You purred in his ear as you leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as your hand crept down his chest. Your manicured nails lightly scrape his bare skin as you slide your hand under his button-up.

San’s jaw tightened as he tried to ignore your antics as he spoke to another respective leader of an allied group. However, his patience was starting to wear thin with your attitude. You had started to push all of his buttons little by little the moment he told you no when you asked to go home.

“Princess.” There was a warning tone in his voice as he spoke lowly, but you chose to ignore it as you undid the top button of his shirt, your lips ghosting the warm skin of his neck. In the next second his hand wrapped around your smaller wrist, halting your wandering hand from going any further and turning his head until he was looking you in the eye, a fire blazing in his dark iris’. “Knock it off, or you won’t get anything but a pathetic vibrator to get yourself off.” He threatened, and your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, your lipgloss shimmering under the dim lighting, and San wanted nothing more than to lick it off.

“But I’ve been patient, and I need you.” You whined, leaning into his shoulder, your breast pressing up against his arm. 

San’s sanity felt as if it were about to snap at any given moment with your attitude, but what finally pushed him over the edge was when those few intoxicating words fell from your lips like honey.

“Please Daddy,”

In record time, he stood from his chair with your arm in his hand, apologizing to the older man and dragging you out of the underground club. He didn’t utter a word as he pulled you towards his sleek black BMW, even as you whined about him being rough.

Walking up to the car, he pushed you against the door, trapping you with his body as he leaned down, face barely centimeters away from yours. The dark gleam in his eyes as they bore into you made your thighs squeeze together, your core throbbing almost painfully.

“Trust me, baby, you haven’t seen rough yet.” His voice was deep, sending a chill down your spine as you stared back at him. However, before you could even utter a word, he pulled you off of the car door and opened it. “Now get your ass in the car.”

You wanted to argue, to push his buttons just a little bit more, but San could see the wheels turning in your head. Reaching forward, he roughly grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you towards him, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Keep acting like a damn brat, and I can promise you I will not be cumming at all tonight.” He growled, lips a breath away from yours, and you wanted so badly to kiss him, but you knew doing so would only add fuel to the fire. Swallowing thickly, you interlock your fingers in front of your body and nodded, but that didn’t satisfy him at all. “Words.”

“Y-Yes,” You stumbled over your words as he squeezed the back of your neck, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you chewed on the plush skin.

San’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before releasing you from his grasp and pointing to the car, “Get in.” 

Without another word, you got into the car, fixing your dress across your legs as San leaned in to grab the seatbelt. Even if he was pissed, he wasn’t gonna let his fiance duties fly out the window, so he buckled the belt before shutting the door.

Your eyes trailed his form as he walked around the car, and as soon as he got in and drove off, you knew that you were about to be in for a long night.

–

“W-Wait! Daddy, please!” You cried out, hands tugging on the restraints that bound your wrists to the headboard while San completely devoured you.

He nipped at your puffy clit, causing your teary eyes to roll back, a shudder running through your body, “you wanted this princess. Don’t start complaining now.” He growled against your skin before shoving his face back into your dripping pussy, his skilled tongue working your overstimulated body closer to another release.

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your fourth orgasm washed over your body, back arching off of the bed and your shoulders straining from the awkward position.

San worked your body through your orgasm before finally pulling away after placing a kiss against your twitching clit. You felt air invade your lungs once again after feeling like you were being held underwater, and your eyes fluttered closed, thinking that San finally had his fill, but boy, were you wrong.

In the blink of an eye, your cuffs were unhooked from the headboard, and you were flipped onto your stomach. San’s grip on your hips was strong as you tried to wiggle away, whining that you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Shut up.” He growled as his hand came down on the fat of your ass, eliciting a loud moan from your parted lips. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes as you buried your face in the sheets the moment you felt the thick tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. “You were the one begging me, ‘I need you, Daddy,’ such a whiny little brat. Now take what you wanted so badly, like a good slut.” 

A choked moan tore from your lungs when he pushed into you all in one go, your eyes squeezing shut when he started at a relentless pace. The only sounds that were leaving your mouth were muffled moans and cries of San’s name and incoherent babbles.

San’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he watched his cock disappear into your needy hole, sucking him in like your life depended on it. Your walls squeezed around him, and he knew that he wasn’t gonna last much longer after holding out for so long, but he wasn’t gonna let you go until you were ruined.

So his grip tightened on your hips, sure to leave bruises as he picked up the pace, and your fingers curled into fists above your head as you felt that coil in your lower tummy pull tight. Releasing one side of your hip, he let his hand trail up your spine before tangling his fingers through your hair and pulling your upper body off of the mattress.

“Sannie!” You cried out as the new position had his tip brushing deliciously over your sweet spot.

San clicked his tongue as his lips latched onto your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, causing you to whimper. “That’s not my name, princess.” He cooed in your ear as your head fell back against his shoulder, mind overcome with pleasure.

“I’m sorry, Daddy! I wanna cum, please!” You cried out, bound hands grabbing at his wrist that was by your side.

A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest as your pathetic state, tears streaming down your pretty face as you looked at him. Your pupils were blown out, and your bottom lips trembled as you felt your high right on the tip of your tongue.

“Hmm, are you really sorry, though?” He teased, his pace slowing just a bit, causing you to whine out in protest, pleas falling from your swollen lips. “I find that hard to believe, princess.”

“Daddy, please! I’ll be good, I promise, just wanna cum!” You begged, words nearly catching in your throat when his hand that was holding you up moved down to your puffy clit, drawing sharp circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Cum for me, princess.” San bit the shell of your ear as he coaxed your orgasm closer until you finally tipped over the edge, eyes rolling back, and inaudible moans fell from your lips as your body trembled. 

San smirked as your body melted against his, legs shaking and threatening to give out at any given moment. A groan then broke through his smug look as he felt his balls tighten before spilling deep into your walls; he continued to fuck his cum into your spent cunt before finally coming to a halt.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him, knowing if you moved just a bit, you would fall flat on your face. San peppered gentle kisses all over the expanse of your shoulder and neck before reaching your ear.

“You gonna keep acting like a needy brat every time we go to a party?” He asked, his deep voice making you shudder.

Opening your eyes, you lifted your head before looking at him, a slight smirk tugging on your lips. Leaning into him, you captured his lips with yours in a sweet kiss; his lips were soft against yours as he deepened the kiss. His hand on your sternum trailed up the valley of your breast before grabbing your jaw gently. The kiss lingered for a few moments before you finally pulled back just a few centimeters to look at him through your eyelashes.

“Hmm, probably. I can’t help that I just need my Daddy all of the time.” You pouted, San’s eyes darkened a bit, and his grip tightened on your jaw.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you straight every time, won’t I?” He smirked, a sinister gleam in his eyes, and you could feel his cock twitching in your pussy, making you whimper softly. “That was an important meeting you interrupted, so don’t think we’re done yet.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, knowing damn well that you had dug a huge ass hole for yourself and you had no other choice but to lay in it.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[prettyguts0on0paper]

15.08.25 #mine

[cinnamxnangel]

'surprise, surprise'

synopsis ○ they accidentally ruin your birthday surprise, gn!reader

gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, geto, yuji, megumi, toge, yuta + choso

warnings: suggestive, swearing

author's note ୨୧ HAIII it's been soooo long but i decided to make another smau since yesterday was my birthday! i hope you all enjoy! mwah! <3

[lipstainedgemini]

I LOVE HIM I LOOOOOOVE HIM

shinsou <3

[luviestarz]

ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏʟʏ ꜰɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄꜱ ! ୨˚̣̣̣୧

୨˚̣̣̣୧ no nut november (enhypen hyung line x fem!reader) - @jayflrt (four men suppressing their carnal instincts for thirty days doesn’t sound plausible, but it’s no nut november, so victory is crucial. yet, there’s only one obstacle keeping lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon from their prize: you. game on, boys)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ the perfect date! (02s x gn!reader) - @enhyupn (a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ FORBIDDEN ATTRACTION (ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE) - @jungqkook (your life at hogwarts couldn’t be more perfect; you’ve got high grades, an envied social life and everyone’s eyes are always on you. a good reputation is what matters in this school, and you certainly have it. so nothing will happen to you if you end up fucking the hottest guys of each house - right?)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ NOW OUT. (psh x afab!reader x kjw) - @sungstars (youre the head basketball cheerleader at your university and just so happen to be hooking up with the captain of the basketball team, yang jungwon. you may also be hooking up with the co-captain and jungwon’s best friend, sunghoon. what’s the worst that could happen?)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ THAT'S RIGHT, HE CAN'T (dom!heeseung x switch!fem!reader x switch!sunghoon) - @jaylaxies (you were always curious about your best friend's roommate, park sunghoon, wanting to mess around with the innocent looking guy, however, lee heeseung doesn't appreciate your advances and shows sunghoon how you belong to him. the whole ordeal doesn't sit well with sunghoon, and so, he decides to take revenge for the same)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ forbidden fruit (enha!hyungline x fem!reader) - @sincerelyrki (how would four best friends, all helplessly in love with their other best friends big sister, react to getting her leaked sex tape sent them via a groupchat? there was only two options. one was to ignore it, and the other was to act on it)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ — love triangle posts w/ heehoon - @sleepyhoon (series of texts and posts in which heeseung and sunghoon want the same girl)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ LUCIFER ✦ (02z series) - @luvyeni (demon!02z x female!reader)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ ୨୧ i'm 6'0 ft btw ୨୧ (ot7!enhypen x 8th member f!reader) - @bbsantc (what happens when their dear sunshine y/n gets involved in a dating rumor?)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ Enha glory hole type scenario - @wonfaery (they all take turns on you but you have to guess which member is fucking you and if you get it wrong they’ll edge you until you get it right)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ ᝰ.ᐟ premium content───엔하이픈 (ot7 x fem reader) - @heeluvv (you joined onlyfans to keep things anonymous—just quick content, easy money, and no strings attached. but when seven of the platform’s biggest creators suddenly subscribe, everything changes. they’re not just here to watch. they want in. the collab everyone’s been waiting for is finally happening… but this time, it’s not just for the fans)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ LECHE OF THE SIRENS (corrupt!enhypen x siren!reader) - @thinemoonshine (seven nobles who are corrupt—embracing the worldly pleasures of venereal activities and greed without caring for anyone nor anything they’ve exploited. seven nobles who know nothing of hardship and the slightest of goodwill as if they’ve been birthed from the fires of hell themselves, meets a girl akin to a celestial being. little do they know, that the maiden is anything but—as she is the bane to all abominable man, a siren)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ only ever you. [jakehoon x reader] - @loljaeyunz (You're mad at your boyfriends over something dumb, and they make it their mission to make you forget why you were even mad)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ ✶ SMARTER BABY (poly enhypen ☓ f!8thmember) - @enmi-land (mila dancing to lsrfm ‘smart’ & engenes/enha reaction)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ Sleepless nights spent with two pretty best friends (l.hs x s.jy) - @tfwbluu (jake letting his favorite hyung aka heeseung get a taste of his girlfriends pussy and maybe double penetration)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ NOW PLAYING . . . Love Hangover Jennie (𝑝oly!ot7 𝐸N- x f!reader) - @all4aoki (Valentine’s week is always a marathon for you, but you wouldn’t want it any other way)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ We be outside 𓇼 𓂃 𓈒𓏸 (Sunghoon x you (couple), Niki x you (side piece)) - @beargyu313 (what better way to meet your boyfriend’s friends than going on a trip with them, right?)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ I would give up heaven if I had to.. (p. sh, l. hs) - @drunkhazed-archive (step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, love triangle, fluff smut humor angst etc)

୨˚̣̣̣୧ If love was a battlefield…(heeseung x afab reader x Jake) _ @heegyukeluv (If love was a battlefield, could there be more than one winner? In which Heeseung and Jake work in the same company as you, both of them sharing the same position and the same feelings: their huge crush on you)

[eulogiez]

ೃ༄ SOME PROTECTOR — clark kent

it had months since you and clark had broken up. months of mutual heartbreak and turmoil, whether either of you knew or not. little did you know, clark had been watching you for months now, even in your distance wanting to make sure you've been okay. miraculously, superman's there when you experience a little run-in with the wrong person at the wrong time. 2.7k

“are you still picking up the pieces? am i still worried 'bout you? why, yes, i am and i always will…be some protector.”

tags: holy angst, obviously pre-established relationship, clark yearns, miscommunication whoops, brief mention of reader having a sick relative, angsty argument flashback among other flashbacks, based on my fave role model song that i listened to on loop while writing

˚୨୧⋆｡ navi masterlist latest work

The pull was slow but steady. Unlike the rough of your relationship. It was perfect until it wasn’t; towards the end, both of you were just looking to keep your heads above water while holding onto each other at the same time. You slowly deteriorated together, tangled in a mess of lies and unbreakable tension. Until there was nothing left.

You feel it again, shuffling through your little shoebox of trinkets you’d collected in the timeline of your relationship.

Your framed photo of your name written in the clouds, courtesy of Clark. The fluffy ivory lettering adorned the blue of the skyline so prettily.

There was something so intimate about it just as much as it was broadcasted for the world to see. Like he was letting all of Metropolis know that he chose you. You remembered it all.

“Can we just stay like this?” You asked, resting your head on his shoulder, cozied up together, admiring his framed work.

“Always,” he said without hesitation, stroking and kissing your hair without anything but your closeness on his mind.

It had meant everything in the world to you at the time. Time and time again, Clark reminded you why you were drawn so strongly towards him. He was utterly magnetic and he was passionate in his love as he was gentle.

Even in your breakup he never showed you any kind of resentment. No matter how much of you he lost in the end he treated you like you were still whole, still together.

“I wish you weren’t him sometimes. You know, I signed up to be with Clark when we started dating. Just to find out there was a package deal I didn’t even know you were a part of,” You laughed humorlessly. It broke you to say as much as it broke him to hear it. It was just a jumble of nonsense you spewed following the ringing silence of his absence again.

It became more than just rescheduled dates and tables for two that only you occupied, watching the clock and awaiting his arrival while the orange hues of the evening sky turned pitch black. You’d gotten a call earlier that night from the hospital about your mother being kept overnight for in-patient care. You called Clark in tears, frantic and alone, needing him there with you while you cradled your sick mother’s hands in your own until you were ushered out by insistent nurses. Only to find he had other business to attend to.

You felt like you were in a poorly prioritized queue, at the back of the line behind the rest of the world. He was Superman before he was Clark and it caused an ache of resentment within you that you couldn’t learn to bite down.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he pleaded tearfully. He was on his knees before you while you sat at the edge of your shared bed, that these days only you ever seemed to warm. “There are times I wish I didn’t have to be him either. I just want to be here, with you. Please, I’m not asking you to forgive me, but I need you to understand.”

“I can’t tell you to stop being Superman, Clark,” you say after thoughtfully gazing at him in silence. “And I won’t. I know people need you and that’s what hurts. Because I need you too, in a different way. And I can’t have one or the other. These days it’s getting hard to love both knowing that one of your identities is the reason why the other is failing me.” You regretted it as soon as you said it but you didn’t know how else you could.

You did love him, all of him. He was the same Clark, just with his kindness made to be his civic duty when he put the suit on. “But what I can do is leave. I can’t stop you from being who you are.” In an instant, you’re on your feet with only your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, please,” He begged, following after you with an exceeding stride.

He followed you out into the street, frantically looking everywhere around you when you disappeared into the abyss of the rain and the bustle of the city.

No matter how badly your words stung at him, he could never hurt you back in the same way. The sting of his constant tardiness spoke for itself, anyways.

You shuddered the sorrow of the memory away. Flipping through the mementos of the box, that long ago, meant something to you. Of them being a blue jay feather.

“Clark, let me down!” You screeched at him. Your grip on him was sturdy iron on his husky bicep, clinging onto him for dear life.

“You sure, sweetie? We just got up!” He’s grinning at you idiotically like your saucer-wide eyes aren’t pleading with him for level ground. “Please,” he softly said into your ear, prying your hands away from your eyes squeezed shut to clasp them into his.

“I promise I would never let you fall. I’ll never let you go.” You know he means it when he says it. You reluctantly nod and with that you’re soaring off, shrieking into his ear.

“Look,” he whispered, afloat next to a tree after zooming around the Metropolis skyline. “Clark,” you hissed worriedly. Three infant blue jays cozied up in nest perched firmly on a branch of the tree. A singular feather was left inside, likely left from their mama bird. Carefully, Clark inched a few of his large fingers into the nest, pinching the feather in between them and cooing at the younglings so as to not disturb them.

“A little memento of our first flight,” Clark hummed, handing it over to you.

You kissed him like this, this time sharing his dumb grin. Looking at each other like you were the only two people in the whole big city, some way above the entire skyline, floating higher and higher the deeper you kissed him.

You rummaged the box once more. Past the bandages and gauze you kept for him after an especially strenuous night, patching him back up although you knew he’d be right and anew in the morning. He came to you knowing this, just because you needed you. Need you more than the sun, he said. You weren’t his kryptonite, his ailing weakness. You were the glowing sun that healed him, that put him back together overnight. You rummaged further.

This time it was a soda tab. You were taken back to that quiet movie night in, tangled in your share of blankets that you’d later discard, choosing to get lost in each other’s warmth instead. Clark had a habit of completely removing the tabs every time he cracked open a fresh drink can. Something about the tabs bothering him when he drank.

“Clark,” you giggled, taking his discarded tab into your hands. “You know what this means?”

“It’s just a soda tab, no?” He scratched his head, wondering what he was missing.

You shook your head, scooting even closer to him, “This one has a little hole at where you pulled the tab,” you pointed, holding it up for you to see. “It means you get a kiss.”

You’re pulling him in before he can process or ask anything more, leaving the movie long-forgotten. It became your thing, for him to give you his tab sheepishly after opening his cans, expecting a kiss in return.

All it really took was reminiscing over those three trinkets to send you back to a time you wanted only to leave behind, to prompt you to shut away the box by the lid, and with it all the memories you once held dear to your heart.

“Babe,” a husky male voiced called over from the next room. “You ready?”

“Yeah, in a sec,” you hesitantly called back.

You’d been dating someone new for months past your breakup with Clark now. He was sure, stable, and he was just what you needed. Though you couldn’t relieve the better sense within you that l felt that something was missing.

You felt guilty sometimes, like you only needed him to fill the empty chasm Clark left within you. Like you were using him so as to not feel alone, the way you sometimes did when you were dating Clark.

He wasn’t unfazed the way you assumed he’d be in your breakup. You’d convinced yourself that because he seemed to turned a blind eye when you were in need of help to prioritize the whole rest of the city, that he’d do just fine on his own without you.

But his days seemed both restless and endless, consumed by the painful need for you back, like he was trying to trek his way out from tar he couldn’t stop from sinking into. He’d often called Ma just to fill the ache and drone of his days, and sought her advice knowing deep down there wasn’t much to do that could help him now.

“You’ve gotta get your sweet girl back, Clark. She needs you and you need her, too. Gotta tell her how ya feel,” she advised him sternly.

“She wants nothing to do with me, Ma. And she’s right for it. I messed up. It was too hard to be there for her when I was off doing heck knows what in the city. And I know the people need me, Ma. But she needed me, too. But I couldn’t.” He rubbed at his temples thoughtfully.

“She loves you, Clark. I know it. She’ll understand. It’s not too late,” She pressed. Hopeful. Certain. He almost wanted to lie to her, to reassure her that he’d go looking for someone new. Find another. Just to convince her that he wouldn’t let this darkness eat away at him. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

And thus began Clark’s nightly patrols over your apartment. He watched you from afar, sat atop that place parallel to your own apartment allowing him a perfect view from its height of your whereabouts, each time you’d enter and exit.

At first he’d wanted to tell you exactly how he felt, his call with Ma only a few weeks following your breakup. But the courage couldn’t be mustered from deep within him.

He couldn’t forget your last conversation, and he feared that the resentment you felt was still fresh in your mind, that you wouldn’t give him so much as a moment’s explanation before you walked away from him again.

So his first cowardly attempt to approach you turned to watching your ins and outs, to and fro your apartment building, observing that you made it in safely. That was enough for him.

And surely enough, after a couple of months you were running into the lobby in a fit of giggles, swinging in by the hands of another man, hands that weren’t his. His heart sank in his broad chest. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop coming. There was some sense of incompletion from knowing he couldn’t be there to protect you if he stopped coming.

This night was like any other. You arrived half past the hour you clocked out from your shift at work. You checked your phone absentmindedly while entering the lobby, something Clark always warned you not to do. You disappeared for a short while before emerging again in more relaxed clothing, out to go pick up something to eat, he thought. This time with that man whose hands you seemed to lace yours into more and more frequently. Clark sighed to himself from his ledge on the building. Thinking, regretfully, about how it could’ve been him, on one of your nightly excursions, his hands you’d be swinging by in and out of the building.

Only, when you came back, you were alone. Must’ve left back to his place, Clark figured.

“Hey!” a clamorous voice called out to you, taking long strides in your direction.

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to see if there’d been someone you missed standing your way.

“You, miss,” he shouted, making you jump out of your skin. “What’re you doing out here all alone at night?”

“Just visiting a friend,” you lied sheepishly, unsure how to dodge his unprecedented company.

“How ‘bout you come down to my place instead?” He smiled a crooked, toothy grin that made your skin crawl. He advanced closer towards you menacingly. “I can pour you a drank and—,”

“Hey, buddy!” another voice roared over his, commanding. Familiar. “Do we have a problem?” A broad figure emerged from the shadows bordering the building’s dim side. Clark. Superman, blue suit, red trunks at all. But just your Clark, underneath it all.

“No, sir,” the stranger meekly replied, frozen in place.

“Then can you be on your way before we do have a problem?” Clark demanded, not missing a beat.

“No problem, sir,” he practically whispered them strode in the opposite direction before taking off into a run. Pathetic.

You watched the exchange in awe, then glanced each way around you to ensure you were alone.

“Clark,” you whispered, more like hissed hastily—“What’re you doing here?”

“I was…in the neighborhood,” he hesitated shyly.

“Clark, your apartment is halfway across town. It’s been quiet all night. Nothing for you to fight off,” you said, pointedly.

He stepped closer to you. His pupils were blown, his lips were parted with want, ajar with all the words he wanted to say hanging from his lips, unsure which he’d choose. He knew it was upon him to finally be honest.

“I’ve been watching you,” he scratched the back of his head, “Not like that. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still feel I’ve gotta protect you, you know.”

“Clark,” you said, fidgeting with your fingers. One of them gleaming with a sizable diamond hanging fit around it. Oh. “You don’t need to do that. It’s too late for all that. I’m sorry,” you said under your breath. Your last words hung in the air.

Even Clark, with all his brawn, couldn’t brace the weight of them. The confirmation that he wasn’t needed anymore—coupled with the sorry sight of your finger embellished so beautifully with that glittering ring of yours that shone so magically under the light of the setting sun.

I’m sorry, you wanted to repeat. More meaningfully this time. The first time you said it you meant it so as to say I’m sorry I never told you I forgive you. You began to really understand that it was his duty—more like his promise to the world—to come to the aid and rescue of humans in need. It wasn’t his responsibility, but the pure will of his heart to want to, to have to help them because he could. Because he was good.

That was the beauty of Clark, the beauty of Superman, that you had failed to see in the hurt of his constant unavailability. But you understood now, and there was a time after you’d already called it quits that you were willing to put it all aside. You’d wished you’d reached out. That’s what you were truly sorry for.

“Well, um. I hope you’re alright,” he said, gesturing to your ring and smiling timidly.

“I am.” You smiled a somber smile. Seeing him again seemed to open wounds you thought you’d long-closed. A pain you thought you retired. A familiar ache.

“I’d better get going,” you said after awhile, looking at your feet.

“I understand,” his voice cracked. He watched as you went.

You looked back, somber smile still intact. “Be well, Clark,” you called out in your steps. “Take care of yourself. The world needs you.”

I need you, he wanted to say. He only nodded and returned your smile with a sheepish one, watching you disappear, winding up and away to your apartment. Ignoring the croak of his throat when he opened up to say something, and the hurt that found its way back to his chest, watching you leave for a second time, heavy with the odes and apologies he’d wished he’d said to you.

⋆.˚ © eulogiez all rights reserved.

— comments and feedback are appreciated!

[jj-one]

୨୧ ˚ ⋆ PLUG!JISUNG . . .

pairing: han jisung x f!reader genre/tags: fluff + smut, mentions of weed (obvi), sub!jisung, fingering, oral (f. receiving), piv

[ note. ] — made this bc i was rlly bored but also i was craving plug ji and nerd ji at the same time so i was like fuck it why not both :p

jisung was the last person you’d expect to be your plug. he’s quiet, always sits in the back of class with his hoodie pulled up, minds his business and never really speaks unless the professor calls on him. so when your friend goes, “oh, i’ll text my guy for you,” and drops you his contact, you brace yourself for some intimidating frat dude, but instead you get… han jisung. the boy who stutters when he asks for extra napkins at the dining hall.

the first time you meet, it takes you a full thirty seconds to even register he’s the plug. he’s genuinely shy at first, keeps looking at you then away, and mumbles a lot. the way he says “so…uh- you want indica or sativa?” makes you giggle because he sounds like he’s giving a school presentation, not offering weed.

he’s pathetically infatuated with you from the start. like when you’re perched all prettily in his lap at a party, he pretends it’s because the couch is ‘too crowded’, but really he pulled you down, hands laced around your hips. he’s rolling a blunt with shaky fingers, lights up, takes the first slow drag, and when he leans forward to blow the smoke into your mouth, his jeans are already straining. gets flustered that you notice, stammering “i-i can’t help it, you’re like right on me.”

everytime you come by, he insists on giving you free shit or giving more than you asked for. he’s just like, “nah, just take it, seriously. don’t worry about it.” and when you insist on paying him he blurts, “you can just…hang out with me for a bit if you feel bad,” immediately regretting how desperate that sounds.

he always stalls when you’re around. if he’s rolling something for you, he’s suddenly ten times slower, asking random questions about your classes, your favorite food, weekend plans, etc. anything to keep you there longer. if you try to leave, he’ll scramble for an excuse, “oh- wait, do you want some water? or snacks? i, uh, got pringles?”

most definitely the type to info dump when nervous. you ask a simple question like “what’s this one called?” and suddenly you’re getting a ten minute explanation about how he named it ‘blue exorcist’ because he was rewatching that anime when he bagged it. you can’t help but find it adorable.

beneath all the shy, nerdy exterior, jisung is a complete and total mess for you. being your plug just feeds into his obsession— he loves that you rely on him for something, that he’s the one you text late at night.

he lowkey just wants to hang out. sometimes he doesn’t even bring up weed, he just plops down beside you on his bed and asks, “wanna watch me get bodied in mario kart?” and hands you the extra controller.

always gets hard around you, it’s ridiculous. even when you’re not doing anything inherently sexual like just sitting on his desk chair, legs crossed, skirt riding up— he has to adjust himself and pray to god you don’t notice.

the first time things turn physical, he moans so loud he slaps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. his voice gets all whiny, breathy, almost desperate. you playfully mock him for it, which only makes him squirm harder.

he’s big on smoking with you and then fucking while he’s high because he swears it makes everything feel a thousand times better. loves the way your laugh sounds a little looser, feeling your body a little warmer against him.

lovessss giving you head, gets real sloppy with it too. he’ll have your thighs shaking while he’s moaning and mumbling into your cunt about how good you taste in between licks. if you tug his hair or hold him down, he may or may not cum in his boxers untouched >_<

he’s such a people pleaser too. the type to say “tell me what you want, i’ll do anything” with wide eyes, hands gripping your thighs. when you ride him, he’s begging you to go faster, to use him. when you choke him lightly or call him your good boy, he melts instantly.

sometimes, he gets wayyy too needy. he’ll text you stuff like, “pls come over. i can’t stop thinking about you sitting on my face” “i’ll give you all my stash if you let me eat you out rn” “fuck y/n i’m so hard it hurts, i need youuuu ;(”

he’ll whine about how he can’t concentrate on his anime because he keeps picturing you bouncing on him. sometimes when he’s fingering you, his glasses fog up and slide down his nose, and you tease him for being such a nerd while he’s literally making you gush all over his hand.

his favorite position will always be you on top. he likes looking up at you, glasses crooked, lips parted, hands squeezing your sides while babbling about how perfect you feel. he always ends up crying a little when you overstimulate him, clinging to you and moaning “can’t…can’t cum anymore but you feel so good.”

[lipstainedgemini]

shut up

[cositanuestra]

⋆˚࿔ BABY, JOIN ME IN DEATH ୨୧.ᐟ

rafe cameron and deaddoll!reader .ᐟ this is really random, trying to get some reqs done! (..◜ᴗ◝..)

deaddoll!reader who is quite literally, a maneater. she feeds off boys to survive, but she didn’t used to always be this way. growing up a normal girl and the best friend of the kook prince rafe cameron.

deaddoll!reader who is a victim to the ‘came back wrong’ trope. having grown up close to rafe, who used to be his cute little thing that would linger by his side all the time. after being turned, becoming nothing but an angered succubus. rafe doesnt notice at first, for the first few days. his suspicions begin to rise when he notices how out of character you become, smiling with all your teeth like your in pain, suddenly becoming more provocative and vulgar with your choice of language and clothes. then there are the days when your completely down, hair greasy and looking like you got your life stolen from you. did the guy that lived across the street from him go on vacation or has he just been losing sleep?

deaddoll!reader who begins to snap back at rafe more than she did before. watching a movie at his house, rafe hogging most of it and talking about some stupid shit he did with top and kelce over the weekend. you’re trying to listen, you really are! but you’re just so hungry. you haven’t eaten in days—and rafe won’t shut up about how you’re new perfume was nauseating him. “maybe all that coke you shove up your nose is clogging it.” you bite. rafe is taken back for a moment, analyzing your face to detect any sarcasm. but no, your dead serious. he pauses for a moment, trying to think of something to say. “the fuck?” he whispers under his breath. you wouldn’t harm a fly, fuck—you you would cry when someone raised their voice at you. “i need to pee,” you say, before walking out the back door, spotting a clueless pogue who happened to be fishing near by.

deaddoll!reader who gets anxious for the first time in a while, when she gets approached by rafe for the first time. “what is going on with you?” he says, eyebrows furrowed together. you take one of the pillows on rafe’s bed and cover your stomach self consciously. “what are you talking about, rafey?” you try to respond cluelessly, tilting your head. “don’t bullshit me.” he snaps back—you flinch at his tone. Not in fear, but shock. “you’ve been all weird lately, like some fucking haunted doll.” you slump your shoulders, sighing, scoffing closer to his stance close to his bed. you rest your hands on his shoulders, somewhat eye to eye. “rafe, i think these missing people going around is stressing you out. just rest with me—okay?” you look at him doe eyed, and obviously, like the rest of your victims—he just can’t resist you. (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵)

cositanuestra — est. 2025 © do not copy or publish my work to any other platform .ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ♡

[illumoria]

"You Got This Clark!"

⋆·˚ ༘ .⋆𖥔 ݁ ˖۶ৎ superman/clark kent x journalist/reporter!reader content warning!!: fluff | mild anxiety/insecurity + romantic tension (hehe) illi's notez!: previous part! next part!

🏷️: @chuuchuutrain @angel06babysworld @rafeysvenicebitch @alize2007 @ellayahhs @kneelarmhstrung @orchidmists @melancohol1c @piglets-not-so-big-adventure @laurenjbb @or-was-it-just-a-dream @honeyluvsatj @dickrry @bloodiedlusts @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mel164 @ooostarwarsfandom501st @ifilwtmfc @scarhead05 @taurusinbloom | click here to be added!

masterlist! series masterlist!

"Clark, if you don't ask her out I will."

The threat was empty. Jimmy could never go through with it, but Clark? Clark didn't have to know–And trust. He definitely didn't.

"H-hey–What?" He whispered, the both of them speaking quietly to each other as if anyone really cared to hear what they were talking about. At least no one normal did.

Now Clark, he knew how you felt. I mean he couldn't stop thinking about you ever since you told him–No, Superman–That you were in love with him. That you loved Clark Kent.

But you didn't love Superman, and of course he couldn't hide that from you. So what would you say when he tells you? Would you leave him? Would you fall out of love with him? Now that. That scared him, and it made him way more nervous than he should've been.

"She's–She's so obviously into you and you're...you're Clark!" Jimmy groaned, cutting himself off, dragging a hand down his face–displaying himself in all of his agony.

"Well, who else would I be...?" The raven haired boy mumbled, that clueless puppy look on his face that made Jimmy want to strangle him and then hug him till he felt better.

"Now you listen up, Clark." Jimmy suddenly grabbed him by the collar–the scene a little comical as he practically had to reach up to do it.

"You see her?" He gestured to you–sitting innocently at your desk while they hid in the break room–like cowards.

"I see her..." He responded, eyes practically melting into hearts as he stared at you. And your perfect hair. And perfect eyes. And... everything.

Until Jimmy brought him back to earth.

"You cannot lose that. You hear me? I bet forty bucks and my dignity."

"You bet–?"

"Alright, enough of that..." Jimmy cleared his throat, fixing his hair and dropping his collar before letting a beat of silence pass through out the room.

"I'm just saying...ask her out before someone else does." Jimmy sighed, patting his friends shoulder before grabbing his cup of coffee, making his way back to his cubicle. He sat down with a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath.

"Lois Lane is going down..."

"Who's going down?"

Lois chimed in, causing the red-head to jump out of his seat–almost spilling coffee all over himself.

"God, what are you–a ghost?" He whispered to himself, setting down his mug before turning around to face her–Lois already staring him down.

"I got my eye on you..." She mumbled, pointing her fingers at her own eyes then back at him repeatedly.

"Whatever.." he snorted, rolling his eyes all unaffected–though in the back of his mind he was scared Clark wouldn't be able to do it. He could still see him in the break room, contemplating to himself, walking back and forth.

"God, my wallets gonna hurt after this" Jimmy grumbled, swinging back around in his chair before finally getting back to work.

Meanwhile, Clark was still hung up on his words. Could someone really take you away from him? Just like that? He wasn't...he wasn't waiting that long, right? He just didn't want to mess up and–Wait. Who was that talking to you?

He could see you and another man–clear as day. Talking it up. Nothing he had to worry about, thankfully. He had his super hearing to thank for that.

But in that moment it clicked. He really could miss his chance with you. Just like that. It only took one man, really. But he wanted to be that man. He wanted to be the one you say yes to.–And you would. He knew that.

Suddenly his feet were moving before he could think, making their way towards you as if you were a magent–one he just couldn't pull away from no matter how hard he tried. Already thinking of things he could say to you, practicing in his head to make sure he wouldn't stutter when he was just a few feet away from you.

"You got this, Clark..C'mon."

He called out your name, watching intently as you looked up at him from your computer, a soft smile instantly gracing your features as you saw it was him.

"Clark, Hey."

"I'm sorry, was I–Was I interrupting something?" He chuckled, already nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. Sweating like a sinner in church.

Unaware of his nerves, you glanced back at your computer. The screen was filled with different photos in need of editing, but...they could wait. For now.

"Oh no, it's nothing. What's..what's up?"

"I just wanted..to uhm asking you something." He started, his voice already cracking, his hands already beginning to fidget with the fabric of his tie.

"Y-you said you were in love with someone yesterday, and I just thought...maybe I mean if it's me–or.."

A pause.

"Or not. It's not me–"

Yes it is, Clark. God, what are you doing? Just spit it out! Oh no, she's staring. Clark she's staring at you–

"Wouldyoueverwannagooutonadatewithme?"

It was barely coherent to anyone else, but to you? It was perfect English.

"Yes."

"Oh, r-really?–"

"Yes."

"You can say no–"

"Clark."

"Y-yeah?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Great. That's...awesome." He practically beamed, smiling so hard his dimples popped and cheeks began to ache.

"What time...I mean today or Friday?–"

"I'll text you, Clark." You giggled, practically over heating as he stared at you–not a single thought behind those eyes.

"Right text..text me." He chuckled softly, nodding his head before slowly walking back to his own cubicle. He felt as if he'd finally won, some of his worries gradually melting away as he sat down–thinking of you. The Date. The look on your face when he said "I love you too."

He couldn't wait. It was all just as exciting as the first, except this time it was the real him. And he wouldn't want it any other way.