#Seriously happy with how these turned out though

[ssahotchnerr]

Flustered!reader !!!! Her and Hotch are freshly dating and he’s just so doting and in love and obsessed with her and she’s just :,) not used to all of his attention and is so blush-y :,) and the team just cannot believe this is the same unit chief who chews them out

lovestruck

aww 🥰 cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, bau banter and fluff <3

"Aren't they amazing? And they were on sale."

"Seriously?" You glanced down, catching another look of Emily's new - and insanely cute - heeled boots. "No way."

"Got two pairs for almost the price of one." Emily smirked, looking rather pleased with herself. "Made Penelope really proud with that one when I told her."

Spencer, blissfully unaware of the girl talk around him, quietly turned another page in his book.

Emily's eyes suddenly shifted, looking past you. "Hey."

What caught her attention was Aaron entering the bullpen, balancing two coffees as he walked in. He was arriving later than usual, an early meeting on the other side of town keeping him. His eyes immediately went to the collection of desks, finding the team. Finding you.

Your heart picked up.

"Quick. Pretend to look busy."

"As long as you stay productive, you can talk amongst yourselves." Aaron told Prentiss once he approached, his lips briefly tugging upwards as he placed one of the to-go cups on your desk. His discrete amusement made your heart flutter, you found it utterly endearing. "They were out of almond, so I got you oat milk. I hope that's alright."

"It's perfect," you smiled softly up at him, warmth rushing to your cheeks. "Thank you."

He gave you a smile, his hand finding your shoulder and giving it a doting squeeze. "Are we still on for tonight? Jessica should be picking Jack up around seven or so. The movie starts at eight, so I can be at yours soon after. Hopefully traffic has died down by then."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Popcorn's on me."

"Can't wait." A gentle flicker was present in his eyes, different from his usual office-stern visage, igniting more nervous yet welcomed butterflies in your stomach. A slight tip of his head, addressing everyone. "Now, back to work."

"Look at you two." Emily stated once Aaron retreated, disappearing up into his office. Clearly she was in no rush to be productive just yet.

"Who?" Ignoring the urge to fan your face, still flushed, your hand vaguely gestured in the direction of Aaron. "Us?"

She gave you a look, one that read: who else? "He's whipped. You're whipped. If it weren't for the undeniably real stack of files gracing my desk, I'd think I was dreaming."

"You better get on those too." Reid chimed in, chin on his knuckles as his novel re-engrossed him.

You shrugged shyly, trying to keep your smile small. You wouldn't deny her observation, picking up your coffee and taking a sip. It was prepared just how you liked it, hints of vanilla and cinnamon dancing on your tongue; Aaron had your order down perfectly. "He's sweet."

Emily's face twisted in a mix of disgust and amusement. Her head craned back as Derek joined you, her chair squeaking as it shifted. "What's a word to describe Hotch?"

"Is this a trick question? Who are you working for?"

Emily snorted lightly, looking at you as she spoke. "Would you say he's sweet?"

"Me? I don't have a crush on Hotch." Derek defended, before flashing you his signature grin. "Though, it is nice that he's not on our asses as much. And we have you to thank for that, pretty girl."

Your blushed more, taking another drink of coffee and allowing it to scorch your tongue, doing nothing to calm your growing fluster. "I don't think there's been too much of a difference. Aar- Hotch is the same as he was before."

You were being modest, in slight disbelief yourself you had somehow made a noticeable impact on his everyday life. In such a short amount of time, too.

From the moment you met him, you wanted him to be happy; a simple, quiet goal - to bring a smile to his face each day. Not just because you were drawn to him, but because, deep down, you sensed he truly needed it.

And miraculously to you, you had become the reason for that smile.

"Mhm," Derek playfully replied, keyed in on every ounce of adoration written openly across your face. Your gaze shot to the right, hoping to catch a quick glimpse of Aaron through his window. "You keep thinking that."

[almostsaidiloveyou]

Omg okay.. On anon again.

BUT IMAGINE 19???

As a fashion girlie who literally does not have the money to dress how I want this was beautiful 🥹🥹

Literally could see it omg. And it was so sweet. The arcade date at the end was so cute and the gradual climb to tolerating each other was so juicy. I just loved it. Plus every outfit was adorable.

I SEE THAT PART 2 CROSSED OUT 👀.. I see it.

Hiii Anon <3

You will forever be a fashion girlie, do not worry. I'm with you too

(i be broke A-F ) we can just window shop </3

I posted part 2, THEN I realized you had come back :(

Here's the FINALE PART (and ofc everyone who was so kind and sweet to reblog and like and comment) I really appreciate you all.

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Imagine 21:"I love you"

(University AU! - part 1 - part 2- multi part story - fashionista!reader - opposites attract - bullying aspects - angsty - added background characters - barely proofread - 4.3k words )

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Fall semester's right around the corner.

You arrived sweaty and warm in the backseat of Greg's car, your thighs sticking to the leather. Windows down, music loud, the breeze soft. He's been annoying the whole ride but in a tolerable way, and when you catch your girlfriend watch you from the rearview mirror, chewing on a Twizzler and smiling, you forget he's even talking.

The view of Raya's family's lake house is ridiculous. You don't mean to judge but you would've never imagine any of your girlfriend's friends to be well off, especially based on their personality...and appearance.

It's the kind of place with too many balconies, a dock that looks like it belongs in a movie, and a big glittering blue pool out back (even though the lake is barely a 2 minute walk). Of course her family has both.

You step out and stretch, immediately squinting in the sun. Your girlfriend whistles low behind you. The top you're wearing shows just enough, your skin golden in the late sun, shorts making you dangerous. You weren't trying to kill anyone today, not really.

"Damn," she says. "You're gonna get me in arrested looking like that." The way she looks at you. She might actually commit a crime.

You roll your eyes, but you're already blushing. The way she says it: half teasing, half lustful....makes you shiver.

"C'mere," she mutters as you pass her. She hooks her fingers through your belts loops. You fall into her laugh, lips brushing just under her ear.

She slips her arm around your waist, fingers brushing bare skin, and leans into your ear. "Seriously. Don't bend over unless you want me to..." You nudge her before she could finish. Laughing.

"Later," you whisper. She groans and throws her head back like you've just ruined her life.

The others unload snacks and floaties. Greg's already halfway to the dock, shirtless and yelling. Raya's already waving from the porch, barefoot, holding two red cups.

⊹✧˚

The cookout is buzzing. Sizzling food, Raya's cousin (and her friend) in the pool. Music humming from the speaker behind the flowerpots. Your girlfriend’s friends are all scattered across blankets and pool chairs, look sun drunk and happy.

You lay your things down, putting sunglasses on. From the corner of your eye you see her, rubbing sunscreen between her hands, eyeing your back.

“Turn around,” she says. You raise an eyebrow. “I mean it, unless you wanna get burned and awful bikini lines.”

You already applied, but you don’t say anything. You do as she says and she smoothing the lotion over your shoulders, slow. Her hands are warm. She lingers a little too long on your waist, dips low across your back.

“Mm,” she’s hums, slipping her fingers under the strap of your shoulder. “This okay?”

You nod, a bit breathless.

“Are you tryna’ protect me from the sun, or feel me up?” You glance over your shoulder.

“Both,” she’s not even pretending to deny it.

Every now and then presses a kiss to your back. It feels great, your body smooth when she goes get something to drink with Isa.

You’re just minding your business. Raya has tried to be nice to you, Greg is tolerable, Isa isn’t the nicest but she ignores you which is better than anything.

Later, you’re in the pool, floating with your arms wrapped loosely around her neck. Her legs are looped around your waist under the water, lazy and teasingly. The others are on the far end, throwing a beach ball and arguing over who burned the hot dogs.

You press your forehead to hers.

“Gonna miss me when class start?” You ask softly

She smiles, “Gonna miss this swimsuit.” She tugs on the knots. One pull and it’s game over for you.

“You’re such a perv.”

She murmurs something and kisses you before you could roll your eyes or ask what the hell she just said.

Behind her, Raya cannonballs into the pool and yells something. The intimate moment breaks, but neither of you are upset.

“I did not know she was wealthy.” You whisper. And your girlfriend’s turns her head to see Raya.

“No, yeah she’s very humble I guess.”

“I always thought…maybe this is bad. But your friend group, and you….i don’t know y’all just don’t seem like the type to be rich and wealthy.” You avoid eye contact, feeling a bit shameful.

Isa, Greg, Raya, and your girlfriend were the typical ‘stoners-street wearing- sometimes grungy- type. Not really caring about appearance. Ali was the only one who seems to dress up, even Adam.

She doesn’t seem to take offense or anything. “I get it. Miss. Judgmental.”

She pokes your sides causing you to laugh.

⊹✧˚

It feels like high school all over again.

It's late afternoon by the time Ali and Adam show up. They are loud when they arrive, announcing themselves with a bottle of tequila and some weed.

You look up at your girlfriend, she doesn't say anything though. You shift on the concrete, feeling her brush your thigh and kisses your temple. You try to stay relaxed.

Try.

But Ali's shit starts almost immediately. Ali tosses her bag near your towel, ignoring your existence. Her voice is loud, and sharp. You can feel the whole energy shift. The weird feeling that always creeps in when they're around.

You're sitting on the pool ledge, legs dangling in the water, when Ali "accidentally" flicks water in you face. It stings your eyes, you blink through it. Once you glance up, she's already walking away, laughing with Isa.

You want to say something. But, you know what that'll do...so you stay silent.

Later, when you're walking past her on the patio, she purposefully bumps into your shoulder hard enough to make you stumbled a step. "Oops," she says, not looking at you.

By the grill, you're teasing your girlfriend about how she burns everything, stealing bites off her plate. She leans in to kiss the grease off your bottom lip. It's soft and familiar, You let out a "gross" and playful shove her.

But Ali sees. And she says it just loud enough: "Did someone invite everyone or is this like, a bring-your-own-stray situation."

You pause, Raya shoot Ali a look. Your girlfriend hesitates beside you. Her fingers twitch like she's deciding to take your hand or pretend she didn't hear.

You speak up before she can. "I dunno, lets ask Adam." you say with a sweet-sweet smile. "Maybe it was bring-a-BITCH- situation." The group goes quiet for a second, Greg lets out an oof.

You catch her shoving your towel off the pool chair when she thinks no one's looking. You find your sunglasses on the floor, stepped on. You overhear her whispering something to Isa and they both laugh, looking you way.

It's high school, all over again. Except worse, because this time, your girlfriend's friends are the ones doing it. And Adam? He doesn't even help (you don't want or need his help, but it just gets to a point....)

Every time he passes you, there's a comment:

"Damn, yo' legs look good." or "Too bad you're taken," followed by a wink speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

He corners you near the drink cooler when no one's watching, leans too close, breath reeking of beer. "Yo' girl's hot," he murmurs. "But damn...you? Fucking hell."

You pull back, "Do not talk to me."

He smirks, "Relax, your flirted first remember."

Your stomach drops. Ali appears two minutes later, eyes burning you. "You really can't help yourself, huh?"

You stare at her, frustrated.

"Dude, keep your hands off my boyfriend."

Your voice comes out small, quieter than you want. "He came on to me."

"Right..." she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Cause he just can't resist an attention seeking-pick-me, right?"

You just walk away. Just walk away from her, him, from the chlorine, and the sun, and the tequila.

You find your girlfriend laughing on a lounge chair with Raya and Isa. Her head thrown back, shoulders relaxed. She doesn't notice your red eyes until you're standing right in front of her.

"Hey babe--"

"Your friend needs to grow up," you speak over her, glancing towards Ali and Adam.

Silence.

Isa's eyes flicked between you both, like she's waiting to see what kind of show this'll turn into. Raya expression is softer, but not enough.

Your girlfriend blinks, clearly flustered. "What happened?"

You shake your head. "Ali keeps bother me, and Adam keeps flirting with me. I am tired of it."

Isa exhales and rolls her eyes, "Maybe you shouldn't flirt back." She looks at your girlfriend then at you, "And she's not your mom, don't come up here stomping..." she mumbles.

Your girlfriend girls her a look but doesn't correct her. Doesn't say anything.

⊹✧˚

For once, everything started to calm down. It was golden hour, sun was slowly going down and someone turned on the pool lights. The boys are in full 'middle school' mode: splashing, trash talking, teasing the girls like they're twelve.

Your girlfriend's got her legs in the water, shorts wet at the hem, and her head on your shoulder.

You didn't even wanna get in the water anymore. You're trying to laugh along, even when Greg calls you a buzzkill or Adam tries to flick water in your face (again).

Your towel wrapped tight, drying off from earlier. You were trying to talk to your girlfriend but her attention drifts to whatever Raya was laughing at.

Anything but you.

You close your eyes, just enjoying everything else. Thinking about going to the lake and reading a book before you leave tomorrow afternoon.

You're so in thought that you don't realize Ali strolling over. She's got that look on her face, unbothered. Without warning, she shoves you.

You hit the water hard, unexpected, loud, it's colder than earlier,

There's a second of silence. Then laughter. Someone whistles. Someone claps while the laugh.

You come up gasping, blinking chlorine water out your eyes, your swimsuit wet once again. Your stomach burning with humiliation.

"Ali...what the fuck?" Your girlfriend's voice cuts through it. Rough, not loud, not angry, but it cuts.

Ali shrugs, playing innocent. "It's just a joke. We are all playing around."

"She wasn't playing," your girlfriend says. She's standing now, looking down at you like she wants to help but isn't sure how. "Don't touch her like that again.”

It's the first time she's said anything. The first time she chosen you, even a bit.

Ali rolls her eyes and turns away, talking shit to Isa. Your girlfriend offers her hand, pulls you out, wraps you in a towel and doesn't let go for a while.

⊹✧˚

Raya says there's this club near her place, one of her middle school friends works there, she can get everyone in.

You almost don't go, but your girlfriend insists. "It'll be better than this. We'll dance. You and me."

And for a minute, you believe her.

You prepare to go shower, everyone is getting dressed, pre-gaming. You patiently wait for your girlfriend to get out the bathroom. While waiting you go to the guest room.

Your bag? Gone

You go back outside, checking the patio, near the pool...no where. Your clothes, phone charger, make up, ID...all missing from where you SWORE you left them.

Your girlfriend, Greg, and Raya leave first to get the big car, the one that'll fit all 7 of you. She kisses your cheek before she goes, promises to text you. You tell her you can't find your stuff, and she says to ask Raya's cousin.

Isa and Ali are nearby, pretending not seeing you go room to room. You ask, "Have you seen my bag? It's grey with pins."

Isa shrugs. "Didn't you leave it near the patio?"

"Maybe check the bathroom. Or under the chairs. You're always this disorganized?" Ali crosses her arms and raises her brows.

It takes you 15 minutes to find it. Well Raya's cousin, Leilani, taps your shoulder and asks you if the bag belongs to you. Claiming to have found it shoved behind the towel basket near the grill.

You thank her and immediately text your girlfriend that you're getting ready.

No reply.

You shower nonetheless, rush it all. You see Isa and Ali from the window. Getting into the large Jeep.

As you're brushing your hair you get a text message from your girlfriend:

[ her <3 : sorry babe, they said you weren't feeling good. i didn't get your message til now. feeling ok? better go to bed, we'll be back late. sleep tight gorgeous. ]

You stare at it. It felt like you're some fragile afterthought, like she didn't even ask.

You don't reply. You hear the sound of an engine revving down the street. They're gone.

⊹✧˚

That night, you cry. Not all at once.

First it was small, quiet tears slipping down your cheeks as you sit alone on the guest bed, now in the cute matching P.J set you packed. The back of your throat tight. You cry while you search for your charge. You cry when you check your texts: nothing from her. Not one message asking where you were.

You feel stupid for...fucking everything: Isa and Ali told you they'll wait before they got into the Jeep. You actually hoped that they would be different for once.

But you still get up. You take your time doing your night routine even though your hands are shaky and your face is puffy. You double cleanse--moisturize--comb out your hair like you mom used to when you were little.

You say your affirmations in the mirror, even if your voice cracks halfway through:

"I am enough."

"I am not the way people treat me."

"I deserve softness. I am not a problem."

You breath through it, you don't call anyone. You don't spiral, just try to survive the night.

There's a soft knock on the door. You flinch, but it's not her...no she's at the club obviously. It's someone else.

Leilani, leans in with her big curly bun and oversized tee, she too was bare-face and gentle. "Hey," she whispers, you knew she knew.

"You okay?" she asks softly, not pushing. "I was gonna go to the kitchen and make some cookies with my friend... You wanna come?"

For a second, you hesitate. You almost say no, but then something in her tone makes you nod. Because the ache is still there, but it's easier to deal with when someone offers kindness without asking for anything in return.

⊹✧˚

The house is quiet. It's past three when the door creaks open. You're not asleep, none of you are, really. Leilani's friend is passed out, face squished into the pillow. Leilani's headphones are loud enough to hear the faint sound of her music, her eyes half shut.

You hear the soft sound of the front door closing, followed by footsteps down the hall. You hold your breath.

Then there's a quiet knock. You know it's her before she speaks. "Hey baby," her voice is soft, gentle. "You up?"

Leilani rolls over, murmurs, "I'll crash with my cousin," and slips out, giving you a gentle squeeze to the shoulder, before waking her friend up and leaving.

You sit up slowly, not bothering to fix your face. You don't need to pretend; not anymore. Your voice is hoarse when you answer: "Yeah."

She closes the door and walks over, kneeling by the bed, hands folded together. "Are you okay? Isa and Ali said you weren’t feeling well. That you told them not to wait."

Your stomach drops...heart sinks. But you already knew.

You stare at her. She pinches her brows when she notices your tears. "What happened?" she asks. "Talk to me...please."

That made you break. Because that's all you've been doing. You're not loud. You don't break in a scream, but with tears that pour too fast to catch and a voice so small you hate how fragile it sounds.

"They lied." You laugh. It’s not happy, it’s harsh and watery and comes out like a cough. "She lied."

Her face changes; brows furrow deeper, lips parting like she didn’t really understand. "What do you mean?"

"I mean they lied," you snap, voice cracking. "They stole my stuff. Lied. I looked for my bag for thirty minutes."

 "They said we were gonna go together. And just left me alone." You're still whispering. You hate how careful your voice sounds. You wipe your eyes, frustrated. You sniff.

"And it's not just tonight," you continue. "Ali shoving me into the pool.... Constantly talking shit. Adam bothers me and makes me uncomfortable. Then he fucking twists it around. They all laugh behind my back. I know they do."

She stares, surprised. Something in her face shifts. "Why didn't you tell me sooner---?"

"I did!" You cut her off. "I always did...do. I always tell you. You never pay attention. I don't want you to pick and choose."

She reaches for you, but you shift back slightly: not cruelly, just firmly.

"I can't do this anymore," you say, more stable now. "Not like this. I don't wanna be the girl your friends hate. I don't want to spend weekends being ignored or humiliated or left behind. I love being your girlfriend...but that shit hurts. It's not fair. I don't love who I become when I am around them."

You keep your chin up despite the stinging in your eyes.

"I don't want to fight for space in your life. I want to feel safe there."

Her expression changes, jaw tense, mouth open, you can tell she wants to fix it instantly. This isn't something she can fix with a hug or a sorry or some late-night-sweet words.

She swallows. "I didn't know...I didn't think they were THAT bad---."

"They are," you say. "And you don't want to see it."

Silence...

"I need space," you whisper. "Please."

She looks heartbroken. She nods. And you hate how much that hurts, too. Because you still love her.

But you love yourself, too. And tonight, finally, you chose you.

⊹✧˚

The car ride back is suffocating. You sit squished in the backseat, right next to your girlfriend, your shoulder pressed into the door. Her hand is resting on your thigh, but you can't feel it. Not really, not with Ali and Adam laughing in the front like they were invited...THEY WERE'NT. Greg pretending to focus on the road when he's clearly in on every little joke.

Ali's twisted halfway in her seat, eyes sparkling with smug curiosity. "So..." she elongates the vowel, looking right at you. "What's the deal with your face? You two fight or something?"

She's looking at your girlfriend, but it's clearly a job at you. Her smirk is all teeth. "Did the little fashionista melt down again?"

You breathe through your nose.

Fake innocence and venom hidden behind every one of Ali's word. "You look tense. Is it like...just your resting bitch face or---?"

Your girlfriend cuts in sharply. "Ali. Shut the fuck up."

It's not loud, but sharp enough...real. The kind of tone that makes people flinch...Greg flinches. Her grip tightens on your thigh. You know it's meant to comfort you, but right now, it's only making you feel smaller.

Ali chuckles. "Damn. Did I touch a nerve?" She doesn't stop...of course she doesn't. "I was just wondering. She always looks so...bothered."

You stare out the window. Nails biting into your palms.

When the car finally pulls into a gas station, you mumble something about needing to stretch your legs and step out fast. The air outside is warm and sharp against your skin. You walk a few steps towards the entrance, just trying to breathe.

Greg's pumping gas. Your girlfriend and Adam say they're going inside the grab some snacks, asks if you want anything: "No i'm fine." you say.

Ali...she's following you, you have no idea why. She scoffs softly, "You know, you got this whole, 'Im better than you' thing going on, but I've seen girls like you before," she says, smug.

She continues to follow you, "What's wrong now? Not used to real people giving you shit?"

You stop walking, stare straight ahead. She laughs. "Thought so."

You close your eyes. For a second, you really think about it. About popping her in the face. About the satisfying crack it would make. The way her eyes would widen. How finally, FINALLY, you'd stop being the quiet one.

But instead, you turn around. She's still talking about you 'always being the victim and tryna be chill, but you're just a boyfriend stealer.'

This shit and that shit; Blah blah blah.

You're tired, emotionally fried. You meet her gaze, deep and cold.

"You're so exhausting, Ali," you say, voice calm. "You make me so fucking sad. Like drama has to be all you care about. You obsess over people you don't like and then cry when they don't kiss your ass."

Ali scoffs hesitantly, "Wow...okay--"

"No. You don't get to 'wow' me. I've put up with your shit for too long. You're obsessed with control and attention, and it's honestly pathetic."

"You're hating on another woman because your asshole-boyfriend doesn't respect you. Stand up and look what's in front of you. Worry about the fact that he doesn't respect you....And you don't respect yourself for being with him. So-so-SO sad Ali really."

You grab your phone. Open the UBER app.

"I am not doing this anymore," you say, opening the door grabbing your bag.

Ali crosses her arms, her face going through twenty different emotions. "What a-are you doing?"

"I'm getting an Uber," you tell her. "Because I'd rather spend thirty dollars alone in a car than share a ride with a bored little bully, who peaked at sixteen. Have a nice life, Ali. I really do hope you grow up."

Her mouth parts, just slightly. She's stunned. Doesn't say anything else.

You walk to the drug store near the gas station. The uber pings: Seven minutes away.

Your girlfriend texts:

[ her <3: where r u? ]

You don't answer.

You're just physically and spiritually done with every one. You enter the CVS and buy yourself, your favorite snack. You're breathing steadying.

The whole performance of being calm, kind, and collected around those who want to provoke you: OVER!

You didn't lose your cool. You didn't pop off. You didn't swing because that's not you.

You stood up. And that counts for something.

⊹✧˚

It's been a week. A full 7 days. A week of short texts, missed calls, awkward silences.

A week of you sitting with yourself. Listening to your own thoughts echo too loud in your bedroom.

A week being with your friends Gigi and Jo, pampering yourself to what you used to be.

It's late when she shows up. You knew she was coming, she asked if she could stop by and talk.

You said yes, even though you didn't know if you were ready.

Now she's standing in your room, quiet, in the soft halo of the lamp you always keep one: The Star shape one. She looks like she hasn't slept much. Eyes puffy, hair pulled back like she didn't care what she looked like, or maybe she didn't know how to fix herself to see you again.

You're sitting on the edge of your bed, hands between your knees, your heart pounding. She doesn't sit, not yet.

Neither of you speak. Finally, "I miss you," she says softly.

You nod once, blinking slow. "Yea, I know."

You had clothes laid on your bed, planning your looks for the upcoming semester, 10 days from now. She picks up one of your tops, gently smoothing it with her fingers, making space for herself to sit besides you. Not too close.

There's space between you, an invisible line created by everything that has happened. By everything that wasn't said or done when it needed to be.

"I didn't want it to be like this," she murmurs. "I just thought it would pass. That they'd come around. That I could keep the peace."

You stare at the top she was holding, it was pink and had embroidery flowers patterns on the hems. "You thought I'd keep taking it."

"I love you," she says, eyes watery. "I do. But I don't know how to be what you need. I didn't protect you. I am sorry." And you believe her. that she means it. That part of her really did want to do better.

It doesn't matter now, unfortunately it's too late and not enough.

You look at her, and your voice is quiet but steady. "I wanted so much to be accepted in your circle. And it hurts. But what hurt more was tat you saw it, and you still let it happen. You didn't choose me."

She winces. "I didn't know how to choose you without losing them."

You nod, "They're your people...you won't lose them."

Silence. She gulps, staring at her hands. "So this is really it?"

You don't answer right away. Your chest feels like it's releasing for the first time in weeks. You can finally breathe in your own skin. You look at her, still beautiful, still familiar.

But suddenly not yours anymore.

Your voice is gentle. "I think we outgrew each other. Or maybe we just stopped trying to grow in the same direction..."

She doesn't cry. Neither do you, but there's something in the air. Grief laced with relief.

You walk her to the door. She turns to look at you, opens her mouth, doesn't speak. You give her a small smile, sad--tired--kind. "Take care of yourself."

She nods, biting her lip, eyes glossy. "You too."

And then she's gone. You close the door. Rest your forehead against the wood. Let the silence swallow you.

Then you exhale.

And this time, it feels like freedom.

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Tags <3 also tysm for the support & the reblog.

@peayuhhhh @mirchisevika @itzsky82 @anthorius @sewithinsouls @aandersonzz @peachyglo @mintchocosworld @mumuming @fatahhstar @liverpoolfan96 @reblogsoffanfiction @reey0w @valenbodoque @autisticratbagtm @jaycouldbegay @tedemannzanilla @squackimabird @warmfleurs @zeiphoria @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @angelz-void @baiabay @poeticrenaissance @whippddelusional @spritelova @acfgio @morgxz @anyasvrse @frejav6996 @primarina-diamandis @sevshaven @st0nerlesb0 @2heartsbecoming1 @solaris-ecplise

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in any post. You're all welcomed to.)

[jeonscatalyst]

I must say I am kinda happy we are getting to see these little Taekook interactions these days. From the Car Live to them at the airport. I am happy because for so long, I watched taekookers talk shit about Jikook. Talking about them being awkward, or judging every little interaction of theirs while in my opinion every interaction we’ve had of Taekook recently has only proven how different jikook are with each other. There was a stark difference in the Lives and a glaring difference in Jk’s energy while with Jimin at the airport and while with Tae.

I’m not by any means saying this means anything negative about Taekook as a duo or their friendship but just that, taekookers are getting to eat their own words over and over again because everything they try to project on jikook’s bond becomes true for their own ship. After jikook did their Live, they said Taekook would have way more chemistry if they did one but we all saw what a “mess” that car Live was with Jk clearly not being in the headspace for any of that. They also talked about Jikook at airports and said Jk was running away from Jimin because of Jk being a few steps ahead of Jimin sometimes even though they were mostly shoulder to shoulder and even when Jk was ahead he kept turning back to check on Jimin only for us to see Taekook at the airport today with Jk zooming into the airport not even looking back at Taehyung and Tae later asking if Jk had even arrived. Let’s not even talk about how tkkrs mocked Jikook for arriving in separate cars only for Taekook to arrive in separate cars today and all of a sudden it’s crickets from their end.

There was a time when I used to dread Taekook interactions because of the hate Jimin always got but I am glad when we do get to see them interact these days, it only further proves how different jikook are.

I am not even just saying this because I am a jikooker but since their discharge, I have seen Jk’s biggest smiles mostly when he is around Jimin or when Jimin is mentioned. The way his entire demeanour changes completely when he sees or hears about Jimin. Nothing compares tbh.

Sorry for my little rant.

Hi anon,

Yes, I completely understand what you’re saying and honestly, it gets to a point where you just learn to stop taking anything that group says seriously. Most of the time, they don’t even believe themselves.

There’s naturally going to be a difference in how Jikook interact compared to others, simply because Jikook are different around each other. They’ve always stood out, and whether people admit it or not, everyone has noticed it. The only difference is that some choose to interpret that dynamic negatively or twist it to fit whatever narrative they prefer. But at the core, it’s clear to everyone: Jikook share something unique.

Lately, I’ve actually been enjoying watching the cult contradict themselves. I can’t even imagine what they would have said if it were Jikook who did that car live or if it were Jungkook arriving at the airport with Jimin, then rushing inside without even a glance back. They would’ve had a full narrative ready about how Jungkook supposedly hates Jimin and wants nothing to do with him. But today? That same energy is nowhere to be found. (Not that overanalyzing idols/ people is ever really okay but at the very least, if you’re going to do it, be consistent across all pairs. That’s only fair.)

And this isn’t even about comparing bonds because, frankly, there’s nothing to compare. But as you said, it’s still interesting to observe how Jungkook behaves with different people. It’s not about point-scoring; it just genuinely helps in understanding the nature of his bond with Jimin better.

Anyways, I’m just glad Jungkook’s heading back to LA. I’m sure he’s in need of a fresh batch of Jimin hyung’s sleeping videos. Hopefully, he gets to film plenty and I hope they had an amazing time doing whatever it is they were doing in Korea.

[xxundeadfanboixx]

Drowning.

(Rewrite of this fic, tried to write it more better I guess? Idk I'm also not happy with how this one turned out either :/)

It’s a stain on your team’s reputation. It had all gone south so fast, had become so messy so quickly, that as you sit in the humvee you still can’t comprehend what had happened. You do know what was to blame for it though, and so does your team. It was you. All of this was your fault.

You don’t know what is wrong with you, but you know it’s something. You woke up this morning with that familiarness, something you didn’t know how to put into words and that you’ve felt plenty of times. It’s something that pricks at your spine and makes you antsy as you make your way through the day. Something was gonna happen. Since waking up you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to be ready for…something. You felt like you were miles away from your teammates when you all sat around that table for debriefing. Gaz sat in the seat next to yours. You had wanted to reach out, but feared that if you had tried, you wouldn’t have been able to reach him. You listen with cotton filled ears as Price explained the mission, told the team that it would be a walk in the park compared to everything else you guys have done. It had something to do with gun smuggling, you think. You can’t actually remember most of what was said. A few hours ago, feeling like days.

It was your fault. If you had just been able to stop whatever was going on with you. If you knew how to be better than what you were, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. If you hadn’t been so out of it, maybe Ghost wouldn’t have had to have taken that bullet for you. Pushing you down behind the crates you were using as a blockage, the bullet meant for your head embedded into his shoulder. You had watched it all happen from somewhere far away. His curses at you to snap out of what ever the fuck you were on did nothing to ground you. Trying to remember the rest of the mission feels like trying to remember what had happened in a dream. You’re left only remembering that something had happened. And it was all your fault.

Ghost should’ve let you take the bullet. And you’re sure he regrets it, from the way he glares at you like a mistake from where he sits on the other side of Soap, who is sat between you and Ghost. Even with the three of you stuffed into the back of the humvee, they still feel far away. The distance feels larger now. You don’t even know what to grasp on to to keep them from drifting farther away.

You open your mouth to speak, to say anything, but as you open your mouth it feels as if water is filling your lungs. Pushing more and more air out from your lungs. You quickly snap your mouth shut to try and keep from drowning in the invisible water. It’s pressure in your lungs expanding.

“Do yer seriously not have anything to say?!” Soap’s voice sounds from above the water you're sinking in. “You don’t even care that Ghost got fuckin’ shoot cause of you!”

You can’t speak. Can’t seem to be able to voice how much you do care, and how much you regret what had happened. The words build up in your throat and suffocate you more. You’re sinking deeper and your team is drifting further away. You want to swim. You beg your body to do something. Anything to stop whatever is happening. To do something to keep the distance from growing any larger. But even you feel distant from yourself.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe ya.” Soap scuffs. Distaste and disgust flavoring his spit.

Why can’t you pull yourself out of this? Why? Why can’t you do anything to stop yourself from sinking deeper and deeper?

You can’t smell Gaz. His usual comforting scent is missing as you breathe in through your noise. But he is sitting in the front seat, and you can feel his eyes on you as he glares into the rearview mirror. He’s right there. So why can’t you smell him? Why is he as far away as everyone else? You’re sorry! You understand that you did something wrong, you know something is wrong with you but please don’t. You don’t want to be drowning alone. You don’t want to be left alone. You don’t want to be-

“If you’re gonna act like this, you better get off my team.”

You open your mouth, and the rest of the water fills your lungs. 

  “Understood, Captain.”

(A.N: I'm still very unhappy with this piece. However I'mma just bite the bullet and cry about how bad it is rather than rewriting it again cause I'm just sure I'm never gonna be happy with it. :p And cause if I don't post this now I never will, the comfort will be in a part 2.)

[citrinesparkles]

lifting the bones

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 1,029 words. notes: pre-relationship. reader is on the social side. title taken from infinite baths by sleep token. part one. warnings: n/a

jason's spent a lot of time in the dark.

he's not as bad as bruce. he'll never be as bad as bruce. that guy needs serious help, and jason is not that. jason has a life.

jason is just... a little nocturnal. that's all.

and okay, maybe it's been too much time in the dark. maybe.

but it's where he can do the most good. he's more effective in the shadows. plus, y'know, gotham.

everybody knows what they say about gotham's nightlife. it's when the scumbags come out to play.

but as a result, this- bright and warm and vivid, sweet and vibrant and you- this is almost blinding.

it's cliché. he knows that. he knows that to his bones, and there's a part of him that would very much like to be snarky or run away or do anything other than watch you right now, but he just can't bring himself to stop.

you're gorgeous.

more importantly, you're cracking jokes and mingling and making people smile. sun on your cheeks and a notebook in your hand and a clever grin on your face as you check on people and scribble notes and keep everyone on track.

you've got your best traits right on display, right where he can't ignore them. right out in the open. everything that's convinced him to allow himself the brief conversations you have in the corner store. the wit and sweetness and charm that made him take you up on an offer to exchange numbers so you could send him a stupid recipe.

and he's maybe in a little deeper than he's been willing to admit.

he knew it, sure. knew your smile was going to be dangerous and knew volunteering to help you with your passion projects was damning himself and that this would all be a very bad idea.

but knowing and feeling are different things.

he's always been good at knowing.

this is feeling it. feeling your laugh like it's right next to him instead of across this stupid chunk of park. feeling it in his chest, right where he should not be feeling things.

...shit.

shit, shit, shit.

and then you turn your head to look right at him, and he feels that too.

and when you call his name and ask him to help move tables around, he actually moves forward and does it.

--

it doesn't get any better, by the way.

no, because a few hours later, your event is winding down in the golden rays of end-of-day, which means you look like magic.

and the event went well, so you're beaming.

you look happy and exhausted and satisfied with a job well done, packing up decorations while he folds tables back up and tries to ignore how much of that warmth he can feel radiating off of you.

tries. fails.

super fails, because you walk over with a bottle of water and a grateful smile on your face and you slide into place beside him easily enough that it almost tricks him into thinking this is sustainable.

"careful," you pipe up as he takes a sip, playful and making his survival instincts beg him to just leave already. "the little old ladies already want to sign you up for the next one of these."

"little old ladies love me. i can't help it."

you laugh, because of course you do- because you two speak the same stupid little language, and you laugh at his stupid jokes, and he keeps making them because he himself is stupid.

"seriously, though," you say after a beat, shifting a little and staring out over the last few people gathered. "you were a really big help today. we owe you one. i owe you one."

he should dismiss that. dodge it or something. you don't owe him shit. and debts, even stupid ones like helping you move some boxes and cases of water around, tie people together.

and for all the two of you have in common, for as well as you mesh, as much as you click and having you around makes everything feel a little easier, you live in very different worlds. you shouldn't be tied to his.

"let me get you dinner?"

he would love to say he's unaffected by that offer.

he should be unaffected.

but he's not. no, his heart stutters like the little traitor it is, and his mind unhelpfully supplies what dinner with you could look like, and "dunno, i have expensive tastes." is falling from his lips in a vain attempt to joke his way out.

which means you huff another laugh. another dangerous laugh that makes him feel a little like the sun leaked into his chest. "how 'bout that pizza place you mentioned? with the gnocchi?"

oh, the place he only found because he got thrown through their window by a ten-foot-tall crocodile? that place? what a beautiful reminder of why he should say no.

"don't your little old ladies need you?" he asks, gesturing the water bottle vaguely across the park to a small pack of women old enough to be great-grandparents.

ignoring the fact that they were definitely looking at the two of you before he gestured. old people are nosy. he can't do anything about that.

and, to be fair, you're young and attractive and sweet. they probably want to make sure he isn't up to no good.

(if he's lucky, they're not hoping he's up to good instead. mediocrity is the goal, here. enough to help you out, not enough to pull you any closer.)

"careful," you tease quietly. "i'll tell them you implied that they're feeble."

"please don't."

this is it. this is where he invents plans he totally has tonight that don't involve running on rooftops or punching people or getting shot at.

this is the part where he nips all of this in the bud before he winds up trying to lead an actual double life, making plans with friends just to cancel because someone needs him to suit up. this is his opportunity to not be a cliché.

"i shouldn't."

oh, really, that's the best i can do?

"i'll buy you tiramisu."

shit.

[brightonstudios]

Updated ref sheets!!

[emacrow]

You're just like me.

Mary sat in the visitor center of Gotham, puzzled on the a fact someone wanted to met her.

She knew it wasn't a reporter as they were clearly banned from talking to her after her last meltdown. Twiddling her finger a bit as she hear the buzzing sound of a door opening.

It was a 14 year old preteen wearing casual yet sharp clothes, his long black hair in a low ponytail, freckled scattered on his face like stars and a nervous smile, but his eyes.

His blue dull sleep deprived eyes looked much older than they were, and it made her froze in recognition.

Before she could speak a bit.

"I was told you and I had a similar situation in being young looking." His voice sounded young, yet soft as if testing an inside joke.

"I'm Danny, Danny Fenton, I'm 36 years old, but in appearance to everyone else, I'm just an arkward, just turned 14 year old boy to others." Danny said softly, scratching his cheek with a soft smile.

Mary louise dahl felt a smile bloom back as she introduced herself.

Maybe being born different isn't all so bad afterall.

Inspired by this post <-

-> Part 2 here

[azadrithaanatheme]

woagh, Armored Core 6 doodle jumpscare! Feat. the universe's most tired, sarcastic lesbian and her cute alien wife who lives in her head.

(Yes this is 100% canon I am extremely normal about this game and am a reliable and trustworthy source of information on the plot and characters of Armored Core 6)

[chronofluff]

“The end justifies the means.” How long can you keep telling yourself that?

eheheeee I love that silly guy. I wonder why he says that so often… :3

[throughinktosecondpage]

'He kneels. He makes his prayer. Drumbeats. La zombero boro borombeta...Blink of red. He thinks, this is all I have to do: follow my master, this and no more. Reach out your hand to find the train of his robe. Look for the spill of scarlet, follow.' — Hilary Mantel, The Mirror and the Light

So. I decided to get out my old GCSE Art supplies and make this. I'm really not the best artist, but to be honest I'm still recovering from Sunday and I needed to put my feelings into something. Never in my life did I expect to be this affected by the death of a fictionalised version of a statesman from 500 years ago, but here we are. That's the true beauty of this series: you forget you're even reading/watching history. Cromwell feels so real, so close that you could almost reach out and tap him on the shoulder. Which just makes his end all the more difficult to bear.

Inspired by the beautiful works of @duztdevl and @dxcstrange-stuff

[just-a-simpel-narrator]

@puffywuffy8904 DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY STEFAN??

To which I definitely did not take an entire week to respond nooooo

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 19: Lil' Beethoven (Ride 'Em Cowboy)

First of all, let this very important fact be known: the love I have for all three albums in the Lil' Beethoven trilogy cannot be overstated. I think I can safely call them my favourite pieces of art ever made. You know, when you look forward to something and it not only lives up to all your expectations but it's also just SO SO much more? Something about this neoclassical / dada / deconstruction of pop music / whatever-you-should-even-call-it approach is absolutely PERFECTLY suited for my tastes, and I didn't even know I was looking for something EXACTLY like this until I found it.

I think the circumstances of my first hearing of this album are pretty funny and something I got pretty lucky with actually (I often think about this with Sparks in general, as much as I wish I've known about them sooner I also do feel like they appeared in my life when I needed that the most. But anyway.) I was very eagerly looking forward to hearing it and finally seeing for myself what the genius of this album is all about. But I insisted that I can only do it through a physical format because yesss, let's make it even more *special*! The moment I've been waiting for! So yeah let's gooo, I need to wait until my CD arrives in the mail (that was one of the longest weeks of my life). And then I started to wonder, well, maybe I actually won't like it that much. To hype myself up to this extent and then be severly dissapointed - would have sucked!

Well, I was NOT dissapointed. Instead I was perplexed, confused, but also very intrigued and quite, ok not just quite, *completely* amazed already. That was the initial reaction and I think it's a rare but very beautiful moment when this happens - no need to *fully* grasp it right away, but enough to be all like "oh that was SOMETHING. I need more." As I said after that first listen (and I actually have my whole LIVE reaction to hearing LB written down lmao, that's how much of a big deal this was for me), I felt like it actually has to grow on me a bit still, gradually but surely with each next listen, rather than the 1st listen being THE prime listening experience. And that was very true! But it wasn't even gradual, it was very fast, seriously. And something very important that stood out to me right away too were the melodies - something about them, and that continues into HYL and ECOTD too. It's this classic feeling of: this always existed, or at least it feels like I've known it for years already. And as I listen more and become more familiar with them the magic still grows.

It's of course no coincidence to me that an album that relies so much on extreme levels of repetition is so addicting, even hypnotising. And once upon a time I thought that I couldn't like something that's too repetitive and therefore could be considered monotonous or "predictable". But nothing is predictable about LB actually. (Besides... ok, I'll get to that one bit later). But yeah, it's good for the brain. And it's been said before by others but this music definitely has this certain neurodivergent appeal thanks to all this, and, well, I love that aspect of it so much and I definitely relate to it on some level that goes even deeper than just song topics and instrumentation choices. It's in the structure and the fundaments of it all too.

I legally can't finish this without a dedicated paragraph to the 2004 Live In Stockholm performance because HOLY SHIT. Feeling so lucky again that all three of these albums got this treatment and we have recordings of these half-concert-half-performance-art pieces that we can now marvel at. I will say that like, a pretty big part of the sum of the appeal that LB has as an album is stored in this show and its visual and narrative elaboration on its themes. And also it's just so fun to watch! Sometimes I thought about how this might be an even better introduction to LB / this era of Sparks / Sparks in general than the actual album but well, never had a chance to test that and you know. Maybe shouldn't recommend Sparks with one of the most leftfield things there is to be found from them. Either way, very good, very important, felt like experiencing the power of LB for the first time all over again.

So now, please hear my exact reasonings for why I so deeply love (almost) every single one of these songs......

The Rhythm Thief

NO song made such a big impression on me the first time I heard it as this. I might have gotten more used to it after all this time but man, The Rhythm Thief, you will always be the realest one to me. This is what made me look forward to the whole album so much and convinced me that it would be like nothing else I've heard before. And that turned out to be so very beautifully true!

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

I could listen to this one a hundred times in a row over and over and not get sick of it one bit. That's it, idk what else to add, beautiful and ethereal in every way

What Are All These Bands So Angry About?

Mostly I just want to direct everyone's attention to the bridge section, at the 2:26-2:52 time mark, which as far as I can say is the most heavenly piece of music ever made. Feeling like that Winnie The Pooh soul leaving his body gif each time I hear this

I Married Myself

Aromantic anthem, to me. Not that much to say actually but it's just, a very sweet and pretty song even when it might be taken as just this sort of ironic piece, I think it's this situation where a song can be taken more or less literally and it doesn't lose anything, rather the sincerity takes on a new sort of meaning? Because yes, maybe this hyperbolic situation (marrying yourself) COULD be the solution to the heartbreak of failed relationships. Ever thought about that??? Ok, stopping right here and leaving my I Married Myself analysis for another day

Ride 'Em Cowboy

My mind is blank on this one suddenly. But it's so good believe me. I love it a lot. It just has this LB spirit that makes it very addicting to listen to

My Baby's Taking Me Home

This was sort of the first Sparks song I've ever heard, or maybe that I quote-unquote purposefully listened to, and I think that's pretty important considering that it was the moment that ultimately lead to... all this. This song has always been incredibly beautiful and powerful to me, but lately it just makes me emotional to an extent that makes it hard to listen to most of the time. I WOULD sell all my material possessions for even one chance to experience this song live by the way

Your Call Is Very Important To Us. Please Hold

Earns soooo much as a live version, but even without that I think it's genius in the same way as The Rhythm Thief, and maybe the most disquieting piece here overall... If we ignore the next one maybe

Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls

Sitting there hearing the intro of this song all like "huh, this is so chill and calm... too calm..." and then being hit with, well, everything that's going on in this song afterwards was truly THE MOMENT back in the day (and re: the predictability thing. idk though, it's not like, really an issue). Later on I decided that this sort of narrative nature of the song makes it have less replayability value than the rest (???) but I abandoned that opinion soon enough, thank god. I love it how long it took me to realize that this song and the ending of MBTMH are the only times when drums appear on this entire album (I mean no, I'm not very proud of that fact actually, as the self-proclaimed biggest LB fan in my area. And The Rhythm Thief literally saying "say goodbye to the beat"... come on man). So yes, sometimes less is more! I adore this song now it's such a treat I would gladly terrorize my neighbours with it

Suburban Homeboy

Ok, I'm sorry Suburban Homeboy fans but this is the only song here that I'm not a HUGE fan of. I still think it's brilliant and an incredibly fitting ending for the whole thing - the mood whiplash is amazing as this is the only "vaguely happy sounding" song on here, per my words from months back. And what's better than yelling WE ARE THE SUBURBAN HOMEBOYS! (I'm actually awaiting today's Sparks karaoke rating reveal very impatiently lol the reveal happened before I posted this and I'm very happy about it)

One more actually, a quick word on Wunderbar because it gave us two things that we might have not been able to do without: 1) this whole album actually (the fact that LB exists because of Wunderbar giving the Maels the idea to continue meddling with this style. Up there as one of my fav pieces of Sparks trivia) 2) anddddd the 21×21 performance of it of course

[mxxnlightwriting]

I love it when I start working on a story for the shits and giggles it might provide me, and by the time I get invested, I notice that I am writing the angstiest, most devastating story. Why am I like this?

[clemencetaught]

ferre makes aesthetics ( 5/??? ): verse two ( lee hyuk & shin myungdae )

"myungdae, no offense, but shut up." alfred cuts in, without looking up from the latte he's making. "that guy looks at you like you're the fucking sun. he doesn't hate you."

( photos do not belong to me. credit for the portrayal of lee hyuk goes to alex @jeoseungsaja! happy holidays my dear friend <3 )

[jungkooklover777]

𝑀𝑦 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑜 ; clark kent / superman

summary: an office romance sounds good in theory but what happens when it goes according to theory?

pairing: fem!reader x corenswet!clark kent + journalist!reader x journalist!clark kent.

trope: office romance + coworkers to friends to lovers.

genre: fluff + some angst + slow burn romance.

warnings‼️: crude language + minor alcohol consumption + near-death experience + misogynistic remarks towards reader (from a jealous coworker who’s also a man r we surprised) + idk shit abt journalism.

word count: 11,030.

random disclaimerrr: heyy haha… heyy… how y’all doin… ik ik it took me for-fucking-ever bc in all honesty, i forgot about dat doe. & i lowk had writer's block but ITS OUT NOW SO YAYYY!! edit: here’s part 2!! happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jungkooklover777

A knock sounds at your already open door, causing you to pause your typing and look up.

“My office in five.” Your boss and an editor-in-chief— Perry White— commands.

You send him a nod and he’s on his way back.

It was a chill day until the cloud of quiet chatter evaporated and was replaced by a thick blanket of excitement.

“What is going on out there.” You curiously mutter.

You think about entering the crowd but you decide against it as you remember your initial task.

Perry may be a fair boss but his agitation takes on several forms, you do not wanna be caught on the receiving end of it.

You knock on his door and open it.

“Alright, Kent— oh. Here she is.”

You can’t see how this ‘Kent’ guy looks but he’s definitely a little over 6 feet. His gray coat outlines the broadness and muscly look of his back.

Damn, he’s kinda big.

He turns around and the only thing you can think of is Squidward whining in frustration, Oh no, he’s hot!

His eyes are a remarkable shade of blue, a lovely bunch of black curls sit atop his head, and his skin reminds you of the nice sand accompanied by the local beach.

Kent’s sporting a pair of black framed glasses and he’s the handsomest “nerd” you’ve ever seen.

You hope your ogling isn’t obvious.

“L/n, meet Clark Kent. Kent, this is Y/n L/n.”

This Greek god of a man shakes your hand and it’s warm. So. Warm.

He smiles and goddamn it is beautiful. It’s so perfect with all his perfectly straight, perfect shade of white teeth.

AND HE HAS DIMPLES?! HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!

“It’s nice to meet you.”

And of course, an attractive voice that matches his equally attractive face. It’s deep and confident and you’re crushing so hard on him right now.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You calmly say.

“Get acquainted well because you’ll be showing our new guy here the ropes. Starting now.”

Your heart drops down to your ass and you retract your hand.

Of course this had to happen to you.

“Oh, okay.”

It was in fact not okay but it’s not like you had much of a choice in the matter.

You exit first and are met with so many faces outside the office. Comically, they all look away and pretend to do something important.

Now you realize why there was a crowd earlier, because of the handsome new guy.

You ask him to wait for you while you go grab some things from your desk.

“Okay, Clark—”

You’re gone for literally 1 minute and the poor guy’s already being swamped.

There’s a blonde girl, bit of a ditz. Twirling a strand of hair while giggling over something seriously unfunny.

She’s accompanied by a guy who’s much shorter in comparison to Clark.

He’s yammering away about how he’s always wondered what it’s like to be on a farm…

“I mean, I was at one for the DP but they didn’t have much internet so we couldn’t cover much. And the smell?” He shuts his eyes and wrinkles his nose in disdain. “I can’t imagine how it was for you, man.”

You watch in horror as he takes a sniff, yes; a sniff at Clark and hums, “You smell great, though! What is that, uh, aftershave. Or sum’?”.

Clark responds with a nervous laugh at his sudden proximity. “It’s Polo by Ralph Lauren. Uh, the blue one.”

“Whaaat?” The guy laughs in surprise.

Clark folds his lips inwards and raises his brows in an awkward manner.

What do you say to that? Truly.

What an idiot, you cringe internally before coming to his aid and kicking off his first day.

It’s the end of Clark Kent’s second week. He’s a great addition to the Daily Planet team and you have to say, he’s really nice.

His first few days were spent showing him around. Perry’s office, your office, the newsroom, break room, copy room, mail room, bullpen, so on and so forth.

You were sure Clark could use a better mentor but he thought otherwise. ‘You’re a good teacher, I like learning from you.’ He said.

He was very quiet at first, kept to himself and didn’t approach anyone unless he absolutely needed to.

You were the only person by his side almost every hour he worked so it made sense to just go to you.

The more you talked to him, the more he got out of his shell.

A friendly relationship blossomed and soon, he was a willing participant.

You like to drink something in the morning while you work and you didn’t realize Clark took a mental note of that.

Since your first week together, he’s brought you something everyday.

“As much as I appreciate this, you’re not the drink guy.”

You were worried he thought you’d expect him to do this all the time now but he denies the notion.

“Oh it’s no big deal, I pass by a cafe on my way here so it works out. Plus, I know the owner so I get a discount every time I go.”

You smile at that. This little tradition has become an essential part of your day, it’s how you start it. It’s also special to you because it’s just for you.

Your crush on him grows by the day but you can’t help it! It’s so hard not to like this guy.

He’s still a bit shy at times but you think that’s part of his charm, and he’s got you good. He’s just Clark, a sweet guy from a small town with big arms dreams.

“So, what are the plans for today?”

He asks this everyday in hopes of going on a side quest with just the two of you.

Alas, that doesn't happen nearly as much as he'd like but at least he still gets to see you whenever he likes.

“Today, we’re going to a meeting.” You answer as you quickly send out one last email.

You grab your purse and Clark brings his notebook to the conference room.

He pulls out a chair for you and you smile gratefully, whispering a ‘thank you’.

Perry and the other senior position holders make their way in and take their seats.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Perry announces that at the end of the meeting, there will be a spot open for another editor-in-chief.

Instantly, there’s hushed chatter of who can be nominated to fill the slot.

You’re positive you hear your name among the many different routes of conversation. You don’t notice Clark glancing at you when he hears it, too.

“L/n.”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you and want to fuse with the chair you’re sitting on.

“She’s our most talked-about reporter and has been here for almost three and a half years. How she’s doing better than most of you at this table, I have no idea. Great work, Y/n.”

You purse your lips in an awkward smile at the jab towards everyone else layered between your praises. “Thank you, sir.”

Clark allows his lips to be pulled back in a small grin, unable to hide his happiness for you.

You know some people in the room are envious of you and are incapable of witnessing your success, but you’d be damned if you let them ruin this moment for you.

The rest of the meeting goes by smoothly and it’s time for Perry to announce the new editor-in-chief.

“Of course, it came as no surprise for us to come to unanimously nominate Y/n L/n as one of our new editors-in-chief.”

You know you should be happy and a small part of you is relieved that your hard work paid off, but you’re not entirely sure.

You’ve only been here for 3 and a half years and this is a huge promotion.

Are you ready for this? How do you know you’re ready? When do you know you’re ready?

You force yourself to get out of your head and express your gratitude.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” You smile as you shake their hands, accepting their approval.

You still had some time before accepting the offer but it felt like you had to take it.

The reality is: you don’t know what you want.

Most of the people leave but some stay behind.

“Congratulations, Y/n. You definitely earned it.”

Remember the envious people that were mentioned earlier? This guy— Mark Callahan— is one of them.

He sticks his hand out for you to shake but you clock his underlying tone.

“Thanks.” You smoothly move past him to the door with Clark following.

“Bitch.” He mutters to himself.

Clark stops dead in his shoes. “What did you just say?”

Mark smirks lazily and the few of his dastardly henchmen eye you with jealousy.

Your eyes are a bit wide, lips agape at his sudden change in attitude. “Clark..?”

This is Clark Kent. The shy, dorky, kind of an aloof guy with long legs, a killer smile, and a nice heart.

You never thought he could get mad. You haven’t even see him annoyed up until this very moment.

Mark takes a step towards you but Clark is quick to get in between you and him.

He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek and chuckles. “Relax, man. I’m not gonna hurt your little girlfriend.”

Clark steps forward, his height giving him the upper hand as Mark’s ego forces him to maintain eye contact, even if he has to tilt his chin up a bit.

“You couldn’t even try.” He softly yet subtly mocks.

Mark tightens his jaw and you can feel the tension growing.

You tentatively reach out and put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “We need to go.”

He maintains eye contact with Mark for a moment longer before budging and walking out.

Clark’s jaw is set and you see the faintest twitch of the muscle, his face stern and hand sweeping his curls.

He holds the elevator for you and you gulp nervously.

“What… was that?” You dare ask.

He assures you it's nothing but you can feel the intensity of his annoyance radiating off of him. It fills the elevator when you step in.

You don't know how badly his blood boils at the thought of someone being so casually disrespectful towards you.

His hands were clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He forcefully wipes his hands on his trousers and tries to cool down.

You let that go but can’t let go of how badly he gave you the butterflies.

You couldn’t even try.

That part replays in your mind.

It was the way he said it, like he was so sure of himself.

He was obviously putting Mark in his place but for you? He did that for you?

Your lips fold inwards to conceal the squeal (read: scream) that's begging to be released.

As the elevator arrives at your floor, Clark extends his arm for you to get out first then follows you out.

Chivalry isn’t dead?!

You don’t know much longer you can contain yourself.

“Hey, Y/n?” Clark calls out.

You swiftly turn around on your heels. “Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, like he’s gathering his thoughts carefully.

He has so much he wants to say. Every time you thank him for bringing you your morning drink, he wants to say, you deserve nothing but the best. He wishes to say how beautiful you look everyday, how smart you are when you're feeling doubtful.

Instead, he holds it all in and says something a friend would say. It doesn't mean anything less to you, he knows that. So he says something so kind, it leaves you with heart eyes.

“You deserve that promotion.”

In all the time you’ve spent here, not many people have said anything like to you.

There’s the fake compliments said out of spite. You’ve already gathered a mental list of who fits that category.

Then come the words of encouragement, said by a select few genuine people. Perry and your best friend, Lois are— were the only members of this group.

Clark being an addition to this list is obvious, it was only a matter of time, but it means so much coming from him.

You blink and feel lightweight.

“Thank you.”

He gives you that award-winning smile you love seeing so much and is on his way to work.

You feel distracted as you work, cheesing like a kid every now and then when his words ring in your mind.

You deserve that promotion.

Resting your head in your palm with your elbow extended in a comfortable position, you sigh dreamily; staring blankly at your loading computer screen.

“L/n.”

You immediately straighten your back and set both hands on the keyboard, suddenly irritated with how slow the network on your computer is.

“Sir?” You acknowledge him by poking your head out from behind the screen.

“Good work on the Stenson article,” He shows the newspaper bundled in his hand. “It’s gotten Star’s attention.”

You’re impressed with yourself. “Oh.”

He angles his head down to where he can see you through the space above his glasses. “You okay?”

You nod in a way that is more convincing yourself of what you’re saying than him. “Mhm. Just, uh… surprised because they’re our rivals.”

Knowing The Daily Star has its eye on you is a bit unnerving but what kind of opps would they be if they didn’t?

He hums in thought. “Well, I thought I’d stop by and let you know.”

“Right. Thanks.”

You track his movements until you’re sure he’s gone and smack some sense into yourself.

“Focus, Y/n. Focus.”

You are invited to attend a conference in Washington, D.C. along with a few handpicked journalists.

As you await for the plane's landing, your mind wanders back to the new guy. You wish Clark could’ve came.

You just think he would’ve had so much to learn and experience, nothing else…

A rattle echoing through the jet brings you out of your thoughts.

The captain makes an announcement but you feel like something’s off.

It’s the reporter in you, a 6th sense.

Another shake and now everyone’s a bit nervous, worried looks painted across their faces and yours.

You open the flap to your window and see nothing but soot. Dark gray matter surrounds the jet and it’s so thick, you can’t see past it.

You start to smell it soon and so does everyone else.

“What’s that smell?”

“It smells like… like smoke?

“Is something burning?”

The captain makes an announcement telling everyone not to panic but of course, that ironically sets off an opposite reaction.

Oxygen masks drop down and you don’t waste any time grabbing yours, but the dread spreads all over you when you take a deep breath in.

Suddenly, the jet jolts forward and it feels like you’re diving into something. It’s going headfirst into the direction of the ground so quickly and you can’t make sense of anything.

The passengers frantically scream and descend into chaotic paranoia as they hold on to dear life.

Your heart pounds in your chest, threatening to jump out.

This is it, you think. This is how it ends for you: in a freak accident.

You close your eyes in fear and hope the impact crushes you so quickly, you don’t feel anything.

A quick and easy death is a death that is most favorable.

Suddenly, you feel the aircraft being lifted up. The speed of which is swift yet steady, unlike the previous moments when it felt like you were falling to your deaths.

You don’t dare look out your window in fear of it all being a figment of your imagination but someone else does.

“We’re… we’re saved.” Someone calmly informs.

The plane is set down on the ground and the doors open up automatically.

Your eyes widen when you see a man in a blue suit and red cape step onboard.

He’s kind-looking. The steely blue eyes somewhat familiar, maybe it’s his aura.

“It’s alright, everything’s okay.” He smiles and you’re taken aback with how eerily familiar the action is.

“Is everyone alright? Nobody hurt?”

Everyone shakes their head simultaneously as if in a trance, left and right.

He nods in consideration. “That’s good. You all can step out now, it’s safe.”

Nobody moves. No one can! They’re still trying to wrap their heads around this miracle.

There’s this man— in a cape, no less— and he’s asking if everyone’s okay from what could’ve happened.

There’s no doubt in your mind that somehow, he is singlehandedly responsible for saving you all.

Someone in front dares to speak everyone’s mind. “You saved us.” They say as they make their way to him.

The mystery man looks at the passenger with a humble look.

He puts a comforting hand on their shoulder and escorts them out, everyone else following suit.

Everyone else but you. You’re frozen in a whirlwind of emotions, mostly shock.

You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice him coming up to you, his striking blue eyes steady on your form.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

You whip your head up at him and realize you’re the only one onboard the plane.

“Umm, yeah. I-I think.” You furrow your eyebrows as you feel your foot stuck in a comatose position.

“Can you stand?” He gently asks.

You go to stand up from seat when a sharp pain shoots through your ankle.

A quick breath is drawn from your teeth and he notices immediately.

“Your ankle.”

“Yup.” You hastily grit out.

He looks at you in contemplation for a moment before doing what he has to do.

“Do you mind if I carry you out?”

You pause your unsteady breathing and look up at him through your lashes.

I didn’t hear that.

“Uhh…”

There is a right answer but you don’t know if it’s the answer.

He’s strikingly handsome, so unfairly dashing.

He’s looking at you with those kind eyes and waiting patiently for your word.

“No. No, I don’t mind.” You clear your throat gingerly.

The soft curve of his lips make you feel a bit at ease for a moment.

He holds his hand out for you to take and gently pulls you into him when you do, wrapping that arm around your back. He bends down to hook his other arm under your knees and lifts you so effortlessly, you feel yourself swoon at his display of strength.

Your brain goes quiet and you can’t think about anything else but him. You’re starstruck by him.

Is this a bad time?

He looks straight ahead as he walks towards the open doors but the slight curve of his lips gives the impression of a soft smile.

Soft gasps and wide eyes paint the picture of surprise and you’re immediately flushed so deeply into embarrassment.

The man holding you doesn’t say anything but he silently shares your opinion.

As he walks down the ramp, you look anywhere but at him and the very obvious audience in front.

The symbol on his chest catches your eye and you’re analyzing it. It appears to be a red diamond encasing a capital letter of the same color, an ‘S’.

You wonder what it stands for, what it means to him.

People make room for him as he walks to a spot where you can comfortably rest.

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you and it bothers the hell out of you, but you bear with it for the moment.

He finds a bench within the stagnant ocean of people and sets you down on it, an apologetic expression framing his face.

“I’m sorry.”

You peer up at him in surprise. “For what?”

He sets his hands on his hips, subtly tilting his head to the left and you see behind him the wandering eyes and gossipy mouths.

You snort softly, shaking your head lightly at their antics. “It’s not your fault. They’re just… trying to figure out what just happened.”

He nods, turning back to the plane with a determined look.

“The ambulance is on its way.” He says as he turns back to you.

You nod, not wanting to look away from his eyes.

The air is thick with so many unanswered questions left unasked, but your throbbing ankle takes a frontseat to it all.

This man is a miracle in the flesh and he’s filled your mind with so much curiosity, you don’t know what to do with it.

“You’re gonna be alright.” He says it with such confidence that you believe him.

And he’s gone, flying upwards into the air and in a direction one can only point to.

People crowd the spot he just stood in and stare up in awe at the phenomenon: a man just flew right to the sky!

What a headache and headline this is going to be.

Your ankle was as swollen as an orange, thankfully like the ones that are really small and are known as ‘Cuties’ or whatever the hell.

There's a brace on it to keep from hurting as much but the swelling's still got a long way to go.

You're currently icing it as much as you can before it falls off when you hear a knock on your window.

You hold your breath and lean out a little, trying to hone in on the knock.

Was it real or a part of your imagination?

It's when you hear it again that you decide, nope, totally real.

You move slowly, setting the ice pack on your dresser before carefully moving your leg and setting your foot down on the floor.

Eventually, you make it to your window and look through the blinds to see what could be causing that noise.

You softly gasp. “Holy shit.”

It's the guy from earlier, the same man who (may or may not have) saved your life. And he's floating, literally standing on air.

You pull your blinds all the way up and open your window, not hiding the shock on your face as you stare at him dumbfounded.

He titters softly, finding your reaction amusing. “Can I come in?”

You wordlessly step aside with your mouth slightly agape, not really grasping the gravity of the situation.

He flies right into your bedroom while you budge the window back down and close the blinds.

With his back turned against you, you take this chance to make yourself look more put together. Your hands find their way into your hair and subconsciously pat down your body to press the fabric of your clothes as flatly as possible.

He’s studying your room and now you’re even more self-conscious even though it’s relatively tidy.

“I’m sorry for showing up here unannounced.” He says as he turns around to face you. “I hope I don't come off as a stalker.” He snorts softly.

You laugh along, nervous. “I was just icing it before...” You trail off, making a gesture towards the window.

He nods, clicking his teeth. “Ah, right. Sorry, once again.”

You shake your head. “No, don’t be. It’s okay.”

You move to sit back down on your bed and continue icing your ankle.

“You left your purse.”

He reveals the black purse to you and you gasp at the revelation, so relieved as you thought you were going crazy looking for it.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.” You say as he chuckles softly and hands you your purse.

“No, don’t thank me. Just doing what’s right.”

Something about his words makes you pause. The familiar syntax reminds you of someone who’d do what he just did.

You don’t even look inside to see everything in order because oddly enough, you trust it is.

Your grin makes the man in front of you feel strangely victorious.

“Not many would do what’s right.”

He squints his eyes and tilts his head to the side, as if to disagree. “I think we all deserve a little grace every now and then.”

“You have faith in humanity?”

You don’t mean to start a conversation about the moral dilemma of being human but his response intrigues you.

“I do.” He answers with such confidence that you believe him.

“At least that makes one of us.” You look back down at your hands applying pressure to the pain.

“Why don’t you?” He asks with genuine wonder.

You tilt your head at him, intrigued. “Are you really asking me that?” You squint your eyes playfully. “I’m an investigative reporter. I’ve seen and heard things that have made me come close to quitting.”

“Why haven’t you then?” He cheekily asks with a smirk of his own.

You're taken aback with his playful wit exuding a flirty vibe.

You'll bite.

“Because even though my job can be draining, I still love what I accomplish.”

He's delighted with your reasoning, appreciating your love for the game.

“Well said.” He nods.

You tilt your head up, the reporter in you wanting to talk to him more.

“Your turn.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposed question.

“What do you do?” You ask.

He clicks his teeth lightly. “Well, you’ve seen me fly. I can hear well over the distance and lift very heavy things, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He knows that’s not what you’re asking, you know he knows that.

You smile, shaking your head at his quips. “As in your occupation, Mr..?”

He stands with a knowing smile. “I’ll tell you next time.”

You blink, startled by his suggestion. “Next time?”

He walks towards your window and you follow, opening it for him.

“Until next time, miss L/n.” He says with a wink,

And he's gone.

You're left staring at his fantastic display of power, soaring into the night sky before he disappears into the clouds.

You've never been this fascinated with anything before, but he isn't “anything” or “anyone”. He's a phenomenon, man with great power.

You don't see that often.

You wonder who he really is, where has he been all this time? What's his story?

So many questions, so little time but you'll hold him to that promise of a next time.

“Next time.” You murmur in confidence that he'll find you again.

Lois enters your office with a particular pep in her step, a knowing smile on her lips as she sees you.

You don’t look up from your work as you know there’s nobody else that can enter your office that way. (even perry knocks, lois)

“Sooo?” She asks, strangely enthusiastic.

“So.” You reply uninterested, flipping through pages.

She stares at you like you know what she’s talking about before bombarding you with questions.

“Who is he? What’s he like? Where's he from—? Wait, he’s human, right?”

Your eyes widen just a fraction before you dial it down.

You can't tell anybody about your encounter with him. At least not until you've had some questions answered.

A hurried breath is pushed past your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at your friend’s prying form.

“No comment.” You say plainly, not indulging her.

Clark walks by with a new drink of the day and sets it down on your desk, a sweet smile on his face.

“For you.”

You know those certain people who just have you on automatic smile as soon as you see them? He's quickly becoming that person for you.

“You are such a nice guy, Clark.” Lois shakes her head in amazement.

She can't believe men like him do, in fact, exist.

That causes a noticeable blush to coat the tips of his ears and spread thinly across his cheeks.

He's humble. “I appreciate that Lois.”

This tradition is a declaration of friendship, a bond he claims to regard just as much as you do.

A sip of it simultaneously warms your heart and reawakens the butterflies lying dormant in your stomach.

“I agree.” You softly smile. “You’re committed to keeping up with this.”

He looks down and pushes his glasses up with an index finger, clicking his teeth together shyly. “Well, I’m no guy in a cape.”

There he goes downplaying his efforts and staying humble, as usual.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks as he eyes it.

You look down like you just remembered. “Oh, yeah, it’s fine. The swelling’s gone down a lot so I’m good to come back.”

Lois watches the news on one of the tv’s in the room play a clip someone managed to record of said guy fly up into the air, departing with a sonic boom.

She leans into Clark a bit, looking straight at the tv with that same damned topic on her mind. “Clark, do you think he’s handsome?”

He clears his throat lightly, sniffing as he tries to figure out how to answer that wild question. “Well, I— uhh… um— he’s, he’s… conventionally attractive.” His tone gets pitchy at the end, like he's asking, not telling.

“Lois.” You sigh.

“What? He’s so cute guys, I don’t know why no one else is talking about it.”

You take a peek at Clark and find quite a bit of blood rushing to his face.

“Clark, are you alright?”

“Huh— yeah. Yeah, no, I-I’m good! I’m fine, it’s just uhh… hot.” He nods, trying to look convincing.

Lois doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s hot.”

“Oh my god.” You groan.

“No, like, seriously.”

And it’s your fault for knowing how serious she is.

“Do you guys think he’d go for me?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” You nod with a fake smile. “He’d be all over you.”

She bursts out laughing, her focus on the poor guy in your midst. “He’s as red as his cape.”

You turn your head to see and it’s true, he’s super red in the face and just refuses to make eye contact.

“I’m just gonna go… do that thing Perry wanted.” He sends you girls a quick nod and smile before basically running out of y’all’s presence.

You watch him go and find his vulnerability endearing. He’s not afraid to show his feelings but like in typical Clark fashion, gets a little embarrassed when he does.

She purses her lips apologetically.

You shake your head at her. “Lois, if you were a man...” You raise your eyebrows and push air out in yet another sigh.

She takes your lack of words as a sign to contemplate the idea, then says, “You’d be my first target.” with a nod and serious look.

“Get out.”

You hadn’t anticipated your savior to be the subject of fascination so soon. Later on in the afternoon, in fact.

“L/n, you’re a firsthand witness. What do you think?”

Everyone’s eyes are on you as they wait for you to tell your story. You haven’t felt this nervous since your interview with this place.

You clear your throat a bit, feeling your nerves on fire.

“I believe he stopped the plane from crashing.”

You don’t need to be a telepath to know what they’re all thinking: you’re fucking crazy.

Of course, that’s an impossible thing to do but not everyone in this room was there.

“You think… he was responsible for saving everyone that day?” Perry asks, intrigued by your line of reasoning.

“Yes. He came onto the jet and immediately asked if everyone was alright, if anyone was injured.”

A few people murmur in doubt but you continue.

“I sprained my ankle somehow and he offered to help me off and took me to an area where I could wait for an ambulance.”

They eye your gloved ankle, unimpressed. (it’s not like you’re here to knock their socks off anyway)

“He helped you off the jet? How?” Someone asks.

“He, um… carried me out.” You quietly say.

The atmosphere shifts and you can really feel and see just how shell-shocked everyone is.

“He carried you out?!”

“As in, in his arms? You were carried out in his arms..?”

You immediately jump to your defense. “I’m not sure why and, or how that matters.”

They’re incredulously adamant about it. “How come? You’ve not only had a conversation, but also came into close contact with him—”

“And that’s where your focus lies?” Perry cuts in.

You look at him in thanks and he nods in acknowledgment.

“I dunno.” A board member sighs. “Some mysterious, muscular man coming to save the helpless woman story won’t run headlines.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Perry feels a headache coming on.

“You asked about my encounter and I told you. I’m not here to be a headline.”

The man who thought of that “brilliant” idea is coated in embarrassment, feeling annoyed at receiving the heat.

“Anyone have any useful ideas?” Your boss asks with his thumbs pressing down on his temple.

There’s some chatter about this man and how he managed to save the plane, if he did. Some even discuss if he’s capable of being a potential threat to the country.

“You’re dismissed.” Perry says with a pointed look.

You leave with your head down and jaw tight, coming to sight with Mark.

“Excuse me.” You drop the hint of ignoring him but he doesn’t care.

“Going somewhere?” He asks with a smug expression.

You still push past him, only for him to turn around and tail you.

“Yeah. Some of us have jobs to do.”

You don’t care how you look and/or sound.

You just got reduced a damsel-in-distress by a board member while your boss ignored him. Granted, he stuck up for you when it came time but he also dismissed you like you weren’t needed anymore.

Mark pokes a tongue into his cheek, his frustration with you at its boiling point. “And what’s yours? Playing hooky with Superman?”

You don’t know whether to be offended or question the ridiculous choice of name for the man, first.

You choose the first option as it’s the most relevant.

“What did you just say to me?”

He smirks like he just found a pressure point on you. He takes a step closer. “You heard me.”

He actually thinks he's got you this time.

“What, got nothin' to say now that Kent isn't here to save you?”

All that annoyance you were feeling just know? Yeah, that's amplified by a thousand now that he brought that up.

“I can stick up for myself, and I definitely won’t take any shit from you.” You spite. “If I took that promotion back then, you would’ve been fired and on your ass in less than a minute.”

You're pulling rank but it isn't rage-bait if it's true.

He's seething now. A vein protrudes from his forehead and he inhales deeply to try to keep himself together as much as possible.

“Oh, I know how you got that promotion.” He spits that venom so carelessly with the most malicious intent.

You squint your eyes in suspected belief.

Mark continues his verbal assault.

“Yeah,” He nods. “It wasn't that hard to figure out why the old man favors you so much.”

You were right, it had been what you were thinking.

The envy in him has always given off a strong stench, he literally gives the evil eye to those better than him in every way possible.

At your loss of words and hurt expression, he smirks before delivering what he thinks is the final blow. “I’m willing to bet you slept your way to the top.”

In this very moment, you realize you don’t have to listen to his shit any longer.

Your strike his face, open-handed; hard. A powerful smack resulting in a red handprint on his blanched face.

The ear on that side of his face rings piercingly loud and in his disoriented state, nearly collapses onto the floor.

A chorus of sharp gasps and sound grimaces snap you out of the adrenaline-fueled rage consuming you.

It seems that you’ve gathered quite a crowd of spectators. The horrified look on your face isn't nearly enough to convince your innocence to anyone just joining now joining in.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Perry's voice booms.

You shakily inhale, meeting his accusing gaze and you watch as he tracks a path between you and Mark writhing on the floor.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his pathetic acting.

“Get in here. Right. Now.”

With your chin up, you walk right past the whimpering mess on the floor; your heel almost crunching his fingers if it weren't for his reaction time.

You know you shouldn't be the one to feel embarrassed but there's still a part of you that does.

After all that you've put into this place, some overzealous, whiny little piece of shit wants to humiliate you by attempting to slutshame? In this day and age?

You huff in exasperation of being on your way to overstimulation by the very quick turn of events.

You're already sat when Mark comes in and Perry shuts the door, but not before yelling at everyone to get back to work.

You feel your victim to your far right, not wanting to sit down.

“Sit down, Mark.” Perry says before looking at him quizzically. “And why are your hands covering only one side of your face?”

You bite back an explanation and a smirk.

Mark doesn't say anything but instead opts to show, he drops both hands hesitantly to his sides.

Perry's reaction is nothing short of priceless. He thinks about exclaiming but when side-eyeing you and carefully assessing your careless reaction, he clocks it.

“I was counting on you being bitch-slapped one of these days but I was not expecting you to be dumb enough to try her.” He dryly chuckles in half admiration and half disappointment.

“Sir? You're actually siding with her right now?”

You close your eyes and mentally prepare to be fired.

Perry’s expression is that of a Don’t try me and Mark actually takes it seriously this time.

Wonder what’s the difference in you giving him that look and Perry…

“What happened, L/n?”

You open your eyes nervously and take a breath, preparing yourself to speak your truth.

“I slapped him… because he accused me of sleeping my way to the top for the promotion.”

There’s about a few seconds of silence before Perry speaks up.

“What.” He just says but it’s his tonal shift that makes Mark sweat.

“W-well, I just said that in the heat of the moment.” He chuckles nervously. “I didn’t mean that—”

Perry pinches the bridge of his nose to try to calm himself down. “I have no tolerance for this kind of behavior, Callahan. You know that.”

Said boy clears his throat and sniffs. “Y-yes sir, I do—”

“Then why did you do it?” Perry’s eyes bore into his with such intensity, it makes you a bit uneasy as well.

Mark opens and closes his mouth trying to come up with an answer to that obviously rhetorical question like a fish.

At his lack of words, your boss scratches his forehead. “Here’s an easier one: what did you think you were accomplishing by demeaning her character like that?”

Still no answer.

He puts a finger on Mark's chest, pressing into it as he says, “I’ll tell you. She is your superior because she, unlike you, gets it. She gets this job, what it means to be a reporter.”

His condescending tone towards the other male isn't unheard of but it sure as hell surprises you a lot.

Mark tightens his jaw and turns his head to look at you in malice. “With all due respect, sir, you should understand why I said that.”

“I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing.” His gruff voice reverberates through the walls, causing you to straighten your back.

Perry then carefully and slowly says, “Get the fuck outta here, you’re fired.”.

Mark dares to speak up even now. “But, sir—”

“Right now!” The older man barks his orders and like the sad little puppy Mark is, follows one last time.

When he leaves, Perry sighs and turns to sit down in his chair. He pours himself a drink, offering one to you.

You stare at him wearily before declining but he pours you a drink, anyway.

He silently takes a sip, prompting you to do the same and you feel the smooth, mellow taste of Brandy.

He groans, satisfied with the drink.

You set your glass down, feeling your nerves becoming slightly undone by the aftertaste.

It’s momentarily quiet, the awkward silence now comfortable.

You’re the first to break it. “Am I being fired?”

This is apparently funny to him because he laughs. Yes, he wheezes before giving in to the chest-laugh every man his age has.

You awkwardly chuckle along, not knowing if that's the right move.

He sighs in satisfaction once more.

“Y/n,” He begins warmly. “I can't fire you after that shitshow.”

Anyone else would think that statement was made in fear of being seen as an asshole who doesn't stand in solidarity with women but not you.

Perry White can put on a show of being a bitter old man but now's not one of those times.

“You did what you had to do and since I'm being honest,” He leans in a little like he's about to share a secret. “I'm glad you gave me a reason to kick his ass out.”

That brings a soft smile on your face, one that expresses your gratitude.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Most bosses wouldn't give a fuck.” The word rolls off your tongue with such smoothness, you forgot to code switch.

He takes no mind and instead lets you talk informally, he gathers you deserve that much.

“I'm not most bosses.” He wittily replies with a wink and tight-lipped smile.

“No, you are not.” You say with an appreciative nod.

You ignore everyone that didn't need your help for the remainder of the day.

As Mark took the walk of shame, it made you feel a little better when you saw people who you've never spoken to give him dirty looks and shake their head at him in disapproval.

Even though he got at least half of what he deserved, you still felt the aftermath of his words. They stung and it just made you think, how many other people feel that way?

You drowned yourself in work, you felt as if you're now obligated to work twice as hard.

Then you hear him.

“Y/n?”

You move your head from your hand and look up above your computer, spotting no other than your trusty colleague and friend.

“Clark, hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Hey, I was just about to ask you that.” He says with a boyish smile and points at you.

You smile back instinctually. “I'm just finishing up some stuff, meeting deadlines.”

“Ah.” He nods.

You eye the time and decide to save what you have left, planning to resume tomorrow.

“I was doing the same.”

You put on your jacket and grab your purse, walking out with him.

“This late?”

Poor guy, you hope he doesn't have a workload as big as yours if he's staying until almost 2 am.

“Yeah.” Clark sighs tiredly. “Perry gave me Mark's last assignment.”

You pause locking your office door, not expecting that answer.

Clark pretends not to notice.

As you enter the elevator (before clark, of course), you make light conversation.

“So ready to go home to my bed.” You tip your head back close your eyes, letting yourself rest for a moment.

“For real, I was about to fall asleep at my desk if it wasn’t for you.”

Both of your eyes open. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I was the only person here but then I saw your lamplight on so, I figured why not fight it for as long as I can.”

Had he stayed this long for you?

“Clark…”

You feel guilty and why wouldn’t you? He was basically waiting on you to call it in and stood by the entire time.

“It’s okay! No harm done.” He insists.

He was actually meaning to go home the same time you were, so he could talk to you.

He knows how pathetic that sounds but he'd rather be a pathetic man with a crush, even if that sounds elementary.

Instead, he opts on telling a half truth. “I needed the extra hours anyway.”

You turn to face him. “You did?”

Uh oh. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

Stupid sleep-deprived brain making him say things he’s not supposed to.

“Yeah, cause my research and work ethic is different from Mark’s.” He purses his lips and nods lightly.

Though he may look confident on the outside, he’s freaking out on the inside.

What was he supposed to say, the truth? Yeah, I was out late saving the planet one country at a time. That kind of stuff tends to get tiring if I have to wake up on time, ha ha ha.

He hopes you believe him and don’t inquire any further so he won't have to come up with another lie.

You hum before yawning lightly. “Makes sense.”

Clark watches you cover your mouth with the back of your hand and notices how you close your eyes when you yawn.

He also notes that you're really comfortable around him. You don't think twice about saying certain things in front of him.

He likes being the reason you let your guard down, he does the same around you.

You can see him staring into the side of your face so you turn your head, meeting his warm yet intimidating stare.

Your lips automatically purse into the friendliest awkward smile you have and he returns the sentiment.

You both then look away simultaneously. You look up at the countdown whereas he looks down on the shining metallic floor.

There’s still 25 more floors to go before you meet the garage parking lot.

The atmosphere grows a little awkward but is forgiven as there’s a shared understanding: you’re both fucking exhausted.

Though, there is something Clark wants to talk to you about.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening then closing as he thinks about how to bring this topic up.

“I heard about what happened.”

You slowly turn your head to him wordlessly, waiting for him to continue.

He stares back at you and you notice how blue his eyes look under fluorescent light.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, affected by the outburst as anyone else who gave a damn.

You’re touched.

“You don’t have to apologize, Clark.” You say as you look down at your shoes, suddenly growing shy of his eyes.

“I know,” He says. “But I care.”

The sentiment doesn't go unnoticed. Your lips turn up appreciatively.

“I know that as a woman, I'll be undermined at times but that was seriously a low blow.” You vent. “Even for him.”

Your disappointment isn't hard to assess. Even though you knew he'd be the one to say something like that, you still would've liked to be proven wrong.

Clark feels for you, you shouldn't have to feel alienated by your colleagues.

“I'm sorry nobody spoke up. I would have.”

“I know.” You say. “Thanks, Clark.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

You think about how nice it is of Clark to say this but you’re reminded of his absence prior.

“Where were you today, by the way. I barely saw you.”

He lies straight through his teeth. “I was out running some errands.”

He was actually stopping a country from getting actively bombed but that’s a story for another time.

“Perry still giving you the Miranda treatment?”

He chortles at your reference. “What can I say, I make a great Andrea.”

“You do. Who’s your Emily?”

You both take a moment to think about this.

“I got nothin’.” You say.

Clark agrees, although he’s come up with an alternative approach.

“There’s Mark, but he’s more Emily to your Andrea.”

You make a motion to wrap your hands around your neck and pretend to choke yourself.

It gets a good laugh out of him.

You blow a soft raspberry. “I just want my Nate. Without the “I'm insecure and feeling jealous because my partner is having it better” part.”

You look up at him and say without thinking, “You’d make a great Nate.”

You’re so tired, very exhausted from the day taking a toll on you, which explains why you’re just saying random shit.

Clark feels hot, like his whole face is on fire. He chuckles bashfully, very obviously failing at trying to not let that affect him so much.

The elevator dings and you both look up, finding the doors to open and reveal the garage parking lot.

“So, what do you mean by that? Exactly.” He furrows his brows and pushes his glasses up.

You step out, feeling all of your nerves turn to ice as you realize the weight of your words. “Oh, you know. You'd be a supporting and secure boyfriend.”

He's stumped, left watching as you walk to your car.

You wave goodbye before getting into your car and he returns the gesture.

You turn to face him, walking backwards. “Good night, Clark.”

He feels the blood wash over his heart like the ocean returning to shore.

“Good night.” He murmurs fondly.

“Dude, this is a terrible idea.” Jimmy scolds. “Your worst one yet, and you barely have those!”

But Clark isn’t listening, he’s already made his mind up.

“If I like her as a man then I have to respect her as Superman.”

Okay, that was a bar, Jimmy concedes.

“Besides, she wouldn’t tell anyone.” Clark adds.

Of course you wouldn't tell anyone about Clark’s identity, he knows that.

“I know that,” Jimmy sighs. “But think of your relationship with her as Superman from a journalistic standpoint.”

Jimmy just wants the best for his best man, he wants Clark to really think about this.

“She won’t let her bias for you stop her from doing her job, even if that means asking questions you can’t answer directly.”

Diving headfirst into something like a romantic relationship without going over the logistics is bound to crash and burn.

But it’s you, the same woman who understands him. You see him, know him. You’re not one to hide how comforted you feel when he’s around, he literally hears your heart rate when he dotes on you.

You must feel the same way. Right?

But how would you react to this? Would you still feel the same? Would you still view him as the same Clark who goes out of his way for you?

After some careful consideration, Clark comes to a conclusion.

“Okay.” He says.

Jimmy closes his eyes in relief, sighing at the fact that his friend chose his mind over his heart.

“I’m going to tell her everything.”

Jimmy slaps a palm across his forehead all wide-eyed, not believing he got bamboozled this way.

He now has to watch his best friend throw everything away for the ruzz (reporter huzz).

Clark feels a weight lifted from his chest at this decision.

He's always wanted to tell you but his moral obligation was to this planet, regardless of what his heart wanted.

He walks to your office, stopping just before the door to check on his appearance. He moves his head to the side, inspecting his hair. He then fixes his tie and glasses.

Satisfied with himself, he knocks and waits for your approval.

“Come in.”

Clark pokes his head in comically.

Your eyes flit up and when you see him, giggling at his silliness. “Hey, you.”

His chest warms at the sight and sound of your delight.

You seem so easygoing, truly content when you smile or laugh. Do you know that?

His takes in your face.

Your hair shines from the light, cascading down your shoulders and framing your head nicely.

Your eyes are on him and every time you look at him, he feels as though he can tell you anything. And though they're beautiful, his favorite part about your face have to be your lips.

You're a very expressive person so your words and reactions make up everything about you.

He loves seeing them pull you into a smile and laugh, especially when he's the reason. It’s like a reward seeing you joyful because of him.

He's momentarily distracted by the sight, always on the verge of forgetting his objective as soon as your pretty lips move around.

You say his name like you're in the middle of something.

He blinks, shaking himself out of his daydream. “I'm sorry, what? I was not paying attention, I'm sorry.”

It's refreshing to see a man apologize so much but it feels weird coming from him.

“It's too early for this, I know.” You jest kindly. “I was asking what can I do for you?”

“Oh! Right, why I'm here.” He chuckles, embarrassed.

Get it together, Clark he warns himself mentally.

“I, um... I wanted to ask you something.”

You lean your elbows on your desk, giving him your undivided attention. “Sure, what's up?”

He walks to your desk, taking out a sticky note folded in half. He hands it to you.

I have something I want to talk about, meet me in the mailroom? Lunch on me ;)

You can't with this guy sometimes. Asking you to lunch via sticky note?

“That is seriously the cutest thing ever.” Lois coos.

You've been smiling since he gave the note to you, grinning at him as he walked out of your office.

You even did a celebratory squeal before containing yourself.

“Isn't it?” You giddily ask. “Ugh, he's so cute.”

Lois nods in agreement, wondering when she's gonna find her own Clark Kent.

“What do you think he wants to talk about?” You ask.

Lois looks at you bewildered. “What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?”

You stare at her expectantly, blinking.

“Oh my god.” She groans. “He's gonna tell you how bad he wants you, Y/n!”

“He is?” You say, hopeful.

She nods ecstatically and spins you around in your chair to face her. “Think about it. You two have been dancing around this unspoken attraction between you for how long?”

You instantly give her a time period. “Almost a month.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Oh.” Your lips pull to the side, sheepishly. “Sorry. Continue.”

“The point is, he obviously feels for you. It was just a matter of when he’d get the balls to make the first move.”

You nod along, finding her logic unarguable. “Okay. Okay, so I just walk in and tell him—”

“No, no, no. What? Don't do that! He's the one asking you to come over so let him go first.”

“Right, right.” You blink. “Let him go first, you're right.”

Lois puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “You're nervous, and that's okay. Just breathe, be calm, cool, and collected. You're Y/n L/n, investigative reporter at the Daily Planet.”

“I’m Y/n L/n, investigative reporter at the Daily Planet.” You repeat like a mantra.

Lois smiles encouragingly, being your best hype-woman. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You close your eyes and blindly trust her. “I’m fucking amazing.”

“You’re the baddest bitch here and you know it.”

You blow air deeply, feeling yourself relax a bit. “I’m the baddest… bitch here and I know it.”

“Fuck yeah, you do!” She exclaims and you find yourself smiling, shaking your head at her theatrics.

You fucking love this girl.

“You got this, okay? Don't think too much, it'll feel natural once you let him talk.”

You feel like you’re about to get in the boxing ring with everything that could go wrong.

“Go get him, tiger!”

It's lunchtime and for the first time in history, you're not hungry.

You can't even think about eating out of anxiety.

You walk towards the mailroom and suspire when you go to twist the door handle.

You're immediately met with the dreamy pair of eyes you were hesitant to see.

You shut the door behind you, none of you want to be the one to move first.

“Hi.” He hums.

“Hi.” You say, equally as soft.

He clears his throat lightly and gestures you over, some sandwiches and sodas decorating the table.

“Panera?” You say with glee.

His lips pull back at your reaction. “Yup.”

You reign in your excitement, remembering why you came here in the first place.

“So.” You hint subtly.

“Sooo.”

You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes playfully at him. “Sooo, what'd you have to tell me?”

He clicks his teeth. “That's the question.”

You tip your head back and half-whine, half-laugh. “Oh my god, stop baiting me!”

Clark finds humor in edging you on like this, how often does he get to see you so highstrung?

“Okay, okay, alright.” He airily chuckles. “I'll stop.”

You blink patiently, the remnants of a grin on your face.

He soughs, building up the confidence to tell you how just much he feels for you.

“Okay.” He licks his lips, meeting your gaze.

He's caught, mesmerized by the way your attention is on him. He doesn't realize just how heavy his stare is until he watches you squirm.

“Clark..?” You call out to him thinking he's spacing out.

“Sorry.” He says on default, though he's not really apologetic for anything at all.

You're just so—

“Beautiful.”

Your breath catches in your chest and he's mortified.

“I, I just said that... outloud.” He stammers.

You watch him scramble for a way out.

“I'm sorry— not that you aren't beautiful, which you are. You so are.”

He cringes at himself and you hold back a simper, finding him so endearing.

“I just, um... Alright, here's the thing.” He claps both hands together softly.

“Mhm.” You nod, furrowing your eyebrows and to show you're just as serious about what he has to say.

“I... I have, uh— wait, no. That's not right.” He mutters to himself.

You come closer, standing right in front of him. “Clark.”

He looks down, stunned at your proximity and stops babbling.

“Just say it.” You coax gently. “Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work through it, together.”

Together. He thinks about the good ending, the one where you do end up getting together.

As you look up at him with those kind eyes, he feels everything he has to say come right out.

“I can't stop thinking about you.” He confesses.

You blink, startled by this even though you were expecting it.

“I like you, a-a lot, and I have so much to tell you.”

Clark's eyes flit between yours, desperately searching somewhere for you to feel the same.

He hears your heartbeat skyrocket, he feels your hands shake slightly from the adrenaline. The smell of your perfume thickens the air and he can't get enough. He can almost taste the color of your lips with how close they are.

He gulps, growing jumpy from your silence.

“Say something, please.” He whispers.

Another moment of quiet, not voluntarily. You're just trying to find the right words.

“I... I feel the same.”

That familiar megawatt smile graces his lips and you feel the tables turn, you in his previous postition and he in yours.

“I have for a long time.”

His eyes crease at that and he can't help the laughter bubbling out of him.

You laugh with him, not believing this is happening right now.

“You have no idea how long I've been holding that in.” He tells you, leaning on the table behind him.

“Not longer than me.” You suppose.

His eyebrows quirk up, silently asking you to go first.

So you do. “Since you started bringing me my daily dose of energy.”

He hums.

“Now, you.”

He looks at you with the fondest expression ever, you hold yourself back from kissing him stupid.

“Since my first day.” His voice thick with honey.

Your eyes soften and though he's won, you don't take this as a loss.

“Seriously?”

You don't mean to be so anticlimactic but how else does one react to feelings of romance being reciprocated?

As if Clark Kent couldn't get any more attractive, he takes your hand with the utmost care and rests it right on top of his heart.

“Can you feel that?” He asks while gauging your every little microreaction.

It speeds up gradually as your hand connects with the fabric of his shirt, pure electricity binding you together.

You nod, involuntarily fighting the tears you sense.

“Aw, don't cry.” He cradles your face in his hands and you close your eyes, overwhelmed by his affection for you.

“Come on, let me see you.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch your shy eyes.

When you finally do, he smiles so brightly that you swear it's like looking directly into the sun.

“There she is.”

You chuckle weakly, sniffling once.

He lets go of your face and can't resist the temptation of not touching your arms. He rubs them up and down a couple times, feeling goosebumps arise in their wake.

“Can I have a hug?” You ask, looking back at him through your lashes.

He feels his heart stop right there, that look sends him over the edge and you don't even know it.

Clark wordlessly leans down and pulls you in, his strong arms wrap around your waist comfortingly while you reach up on your toes.

You rest your head on his shoulder and feel your hearts beating under each other so passively, a sigh escapes the confines of both your mouths simultaneously.

Something about this feels like déjà vu, like you've been in a similar position.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Remember that conference I was supposed to go to in DC but got cancelled because the jet almost crashed?”

He pulls away with a straight face, hiding the absolute chaos unfurling behind those eyes. “Yeah..? Why?”

You look at the door then back at him. “I haven't told anyone about this but afterwards, Superman came by my place.”

“What? No way!” Clark gasps.

You nod cooly.

“So, what happened? What'd you guys talk about?”

You tell him how he stopped by to return your purse but something has been bugging you since. “I just don't know how he got my address.”

“Oh, that's easy.” He doesn't feel like playing this game anymore, too many sweats. “I know where you live.”

You’re perplexed and then some because what does that mean?

“What are you saying?”

He puts both hands on your shoulders and gives you a riddled look that says, Come on, think about it. You know what I’m saying.

A lightbulb turns on in your head but it can’t be. There’s just no way you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

You’re too flabbergasted to say a word. You just stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as you say it out loud.

“You’re… you’re— you,” You chuckle dryly, your head spinning a bit. “You’re Superman?”

He doesn’t give any indication of agreeing with you but his silence does.

Clark’s trying to get a read on you.

You then cover your mouth with both hands, muffling an excited ‘Oh my god!’.

He feels reassured.

“You’re Superman!” You whisper-scream.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He nods while checking the door to see anyone coming in.

You just stare at him in wonder, taking this all in.

It all makes perfect sense.

Who else would be selfless enough to protect those who can’t protect themselves? To have integrity is the most Clark Kent trait you can think of.

You know Clark has a big heart but this? This is next level.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He looks at you like the answer to that is simple, which to him, is. It’s always going to be simple if it involves you.

“I don’t want to start this on a lie.” He reveals as those damned blue eyes fixate on you.

You can fly right now.

He leans in ever so slowly, tracking any detail on your face that may give away the impression of not wanting him in your space.

When he finds none and is absolutely sure, he puts a hand on your cheek and asks, “Can I kiss you?”.

“Yes.” You sound softly and it’s as if a prayer has been answered.

Your eyes flutter shut and he parts his lips for you, you anticipate them to be just as soft and lush as they seem.

He believes he’ll finally be able to understand the languid nature of your mouth and decipher its meaning.

Sparks fly when you make contact, it strengthens the electricity that makes your chemistry.

The kiss is a breath of fresh air, the kind that blows in quietly; peacefully.

He’s sweet, undoubtedly so. His palms hesitantly splay across the curves on your waist. You smile at the soft touch and he does as well.

Your hands are on his chest and you can feel every pulse, flutter, and pang of his heart.

You think it’s poetic; the influence you have on his heart, both figuratively and literally.

He rests his forehead on yours and you look up at him from under your lashes.

He’s about to speak up when he hears something, something you don’t. His ears perk in the direction of the distressed sound and he turns his head apologetically.

“I have to go.” He regretfully informs.

You reach up to kiss his cheek and rid him of guilt. “When you come back, I’ll be right here.”

Clark hugs you once more and asks, “You’re my hero, you know that?”.

You chortle and respond with, “Is that Superman talking or you?”.

“Both.” He pulls back with a kiss on your hairline, winking at you with a cheeky grin.

He runs out the door and leaves you with the ghost of his touch and words that form a sappy smile on your face.

Superman may be the world’s hero, but Clark Kent is yours.

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there��”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.