#but i c a n only hope

[ryllen]

pov: me super sad on them altering zayne's ENG voice on the recent update

[athcnaa]

finally finished procastinating this

now heres mc in my head during what i like to refer as the uh oh tubs what u do incident..+THE techno carry scene

and yes. yes i do i love overdressing her.

from "only when you look at me"by @uunoia

[ohthewh0rror]

TOM RIDDLE HEADCANONS: PREGNANT S/O

A/N: For you, dear anon, bc I did actually enjoy that message. <3

This man would hear you throw up and ask if you were okay before going back to what he was doing, he is not going to listen to you get sick. It grosses him out (���).

Once the migraines hit for the first time and you’re laying in bed unable to even open your eyes, he tries to comfort you for once by rubbing your arm and asking if you need anything, but you just snap at him to not touch before yanking your arm away.

Safe to say he’s not comforting you again unless you seek him out first.

The only time he genuinely worries for your health is the one time you’re eating dinner and your blood pressure suddenly drops and you almost pass out.

This man is picking you up bridal style and rushing you to the hospital, convinced you’re in mortal danger.

You’re not though, and he almost loses his mind when the healer says it’s not a big deal. It ends with Tom nearly being escorted off the premises when he indirectly threatens the healers life.

Second guesses what he says to you bc he’s worried that you would either physically fight him or break down in hysterics— both of which he wants to avoid.

Tom’s least favorite part of your pregnancy is the mild insomnia.

You’re lucky he cares for you or else he would have hexed you for waking him up at 2AM to keep you company while you eat cereal and talk about work gossip.

Tries to help when/where he can.

I.e. buys you extra pillows for when your hips begin to ache, gives you ginger candies when you’re hit with nausea, avoids eating foods you have a sudden aversion to, etc.

Imagine immediately after you give birth though?

Tom may not be the best with children, but he can see you’re clearly exhausted and out of it, so he takes over caring for the baby so that you can rest.

Helping you walk to and from the bathroom, and scolds you when you tell him you don’t need his help.

Helps you take your first shower after giving birth because he wants you to be comfortable and knew you wouldn’t want the nurses to do it.

[kristiliqua]

some ultrakill fans flaming people for playing on lenient/harmless is so funny to me because here i am in my little corner playing on harmless with Also 100% damage reduction (in major assist settings) because my severe anxiety cannot handle the idea of me taking any damage at all . i am wearing my propeller hat and eating my lollipop and i am having fun :3 (and maybe one day i can ease that anxiety and play without major assists)

[typheus]

Finished my knitting for the day n decided to seam the sleeve on the cardigan n weave in the ends.

Then wove in the ends on all my other wips.

Then blocked them with the iron :p it's nice to see em all laying flat :]

First is the tunisian crochet blanket. Second is a doily pattern that is gonna also be a blanket :v love blankets!

[xx-paran0iac-penc3-xx]

i was originally gonna make a joke post abt this but i kinda like my idea so ill make it more srs:ive seen ppl mess w pencil x 1 as cutesy yuri (yawn.srry thats so boring.) n as manipulative yuri which.actually bores me again bc i dont think no matter how desperate pencil is to feel loved 1 would manage to successfully love bomb her, like she would accept staying n working w them for the sake its the safest option but shed shut down any attempts on 1s part of using affection as manipulation bc shes so distrusting of everyone already n she looks like 4s deformed cousin, so the horrors wouldnt come from her falling for love bombing but rather its shoved down her throat n just further cements her mindset nobody is safe for her bc the safest option is another alien w snappy anger problems whos just using her but they keep trying to play pretend she loves her n forcing it on her.is this thing on

[silusvesuius]

g*lmar rly has to be the best skajrim character on the real like even if you don't like him he just is . literally The best one i think......... on dat note i also imagine that he and ulfr*c despite being fairydust BFFs for lyfe genuinely have the worst communication skills ever seen

[ryllen]

Try to pull him for the fifth time, ended up shoved to Jack SSR instead

[flashhwing]

sometimes you say something on this site and then someone Runs Away With It and adds stuff that's technically agreeing with you but to a severe degree that even you don't go to and it's like Woah Okay. Back Off A Little There

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”

[koushirouizumi]

{D.I.G.I.M.O.N} Adventure/02/tri./Kizuna @.M.V : "Home" from D I S N E Ys {B e a u t y & the B e a s t} M U S I C A L Sung by: Susan Egan {as B e l l e} + {Back-ground}/Heavy Implied KouTai {Koushiro x Taichi} & vs. Vade{r}mon

@.M.V Preview By Me

{This is currently unfinished. Please check back at a later time to see if a full version can be completed!} Time spent so far: 1~ hour or so on this part alone.

This embed may not display at times. If that happens, please watch at direct link here!

{Do Not Re-p o s t} {Do Not C o p y} {Do Not re-p r o d u c e + for @.I U s e} Without my P e r m i s s i o n Under any circumstances!}

[remma-demma]

:( stayed up until 4 AM doomscrolling on tags i know are bad for my mental health againnnnnnnn

[froothytoothy]

Your Idol

Saja Boys x Idol! Reader │ part 2 │ previous │ next │

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summary - the saja boys finally get to meet you, although they aren't too happy with the way you've been treated

warning - fem reader, light bullying, a lil spice, possessive behaviour, obsessive fan behaviour

w/c - 3,3K

a/n - wish I could like comments, the ones I got on my previous chapter had me BLUSHING I love u all sm! pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!

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Blurred sounds scattered across you as you began to wake up. Your eyes were still blurry, so you couldn't make out the figures surrounding you, but they sounded oddly familiar. 

"Guys, shut up. She's awake".

A warmer, much larger hand grabs yours, "Are you alright now, love? You were out for a while, we were all so worried".

The stranger sounded nice, but your vision still hadn’t cleared up enough to figure out who was talking to you, so all you could do was stare blankly at the person holding your hand. 

The room went silent for a while before being interrupted by another man from your left. "I know she's just confused, but I can't lie that face she's making is so adorable". You assumed he was talking about you and a warm blush coated your cheeks. 

"Romance, now is not the time!"

Romance? As in, from the Saja Boys? 

Your vision soon came back, and surrounding you, you could see all five members of the Saja Boys, each staring at you fondly. 

Abby was the one holding your hand. He was sitting on the infirmary bed with you and Jinu. 

Mystery and Romance were on your left.

And Baby was on your right. 

You couldn't help the gasp you let out once you saw them. 

"Am I dreaming?" you accidentally said aloud. 

Jinu lets out a chuckle, "No darling, we are very much real. I could pinch you if you don't believe me. Are you feeling better now?"

You beamed, eyes sparkling with happiness. It almost sounded too good to be true, but still, you went along with it. 

After being trapped in the studio, you assumed you were too late to meet them. and concluded that it was nearly impossible for a group as popular as the Saja Boys to join a company as small as yours. Talking with other idols, especially those of the opposite gender, at things like award shows wasn't forbidden, but it was strange, so today was probably your only opportunity to meet them, and you did.

Albeit in a very unconventional way.

"I'm feeling a lot better now, thank you so much. I'm so happy to meet you guys, I'm such a big fan. But, what are you doing here with me? Shouldn't you be touring the company?" you questioned, finding it odd how they weren't with Jina, but with you.

“You passed out in Abby’s arms, how could we just leave and pretend nothing happened?” Baby spoke up calmly, although his eyes glistened with hints of worry. Your heart warmed at their thoughtfulness. 

According to Hojin and the other staff members, you weren't an important member, so they often ended up forgetting about you. Whenever something happened to you, they told you to just suck it up.

But despite never meeting you, the Saja Boys already cared so much about you. So much that they would wait here in the infirmary with you. 

Suddenly, you were reminded that you had forgotten to introduce yourself.

“Sorry, I forgot to say, I’m (Y/N). I'm a member of Harmoness. It's an honour to meet you”. You bowed your head, mostly in gratitude. If it weren't for them you'd probably still be stuck in the dance studio.

“We know who you are, princess. We did our research before coming here”, Romance teases, getting closer to the bed and putting his arm around your shoulders. You shivered at the close proximity between you. He began to lean closer, slowly closing the distance. By now, your body had frozen in place, your eyes locked into his. His every move was under your impenetrable gaze. You could see his lips coming closer and closer to yours, till they quickly diverted towards your ear. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't just a bit disappointed.

The feeling of his warm breath and strong grip had your mind in a frenzy. He was so close you could feel the heat radiate off him and smell the sweet, but musky scent of his cologne. 

“Although you should know, princess, most of our information was from one of us,” he began, turning his head to the side. You followed his gaze, being too curious to stay frozen. 

Your mouth hung slightly in shock once your eyes made contact with an awkward-looking Mystery. His feet were shuffling across the ground, and his head was drooped down, almost like he was guilty of something. 

Romance walked away from you, much to your dismay, and came back dragging Mystery, who seemed very unwilling. “Go on, man, you can do it. You've been waiting so long for this moment”.

Mystery refused, shaking his head firmly. Watching the scene unfold was the equivalent of watching someone grow an extra head. You were left utterly confused. Why would Mystery know anything about you? Them doing research before coming here made sense, but out of all the people they got their information from, why was it Mystery? 

Mystery was the cool, mysterious figure of the group, so watching him act like this, so embarrassed, it was honestly so adorable. Perhaps the mysterious, quiet persona he had was just a cover-up for his shy personality.

Romance shook his head in disappointment. “Mystery is a big fan of yours, (Y/N). He's a little too shy to admit it, though”. You blinked slowly, taking in the revolutionary, newfound information. For a moment, you thought you had heard him wrong.

Mystery, a fan?

Of you?

You were surprised that he even knew about you, but being a “big fan”, it just seemed impossible. 

A monotone-like voice perked up, “Ever since you debuted, I've been a fan”. Taking a closer look at Mystery, you could see a red hue crawling up his neck and ears. Just saying that much was too much for him, but he pushed through the embarrassment and continued, slowly coming closer to you. “Honestly, I didn't care about the others, I only liked you”.

Despite how unbelievable it was, it was the truth. Before being recruited by Jinu and becoming one of the Saja Boys, Mystery had been obsessed with you since your debut. His time in the Underworld became a lot more bearable once you entered his life. The image of your warm smile burned layers into his brain. He’d seen countless hours of footage of other humans, and despite his very stoic face, he could tell how fake their smiles were, but yours. Yours was carved by angels.

His need to consume human souls almost completely subsided once his hunger was directed towards you.

Although it was a very different type of hunger.

Mystery had become completely infatuated with you, so when Jinu proposed that he join the Saja Boys, he knew this was his way of finally getting to you. 

And now you were finally right in front of him, but all those hours of planning were in vain. He just couldn't find the right words to say. Couldn't figure out how to stand or move right. His heart wouldn't stop beating, and his head wouldn't stop replaying the images from his fantasies. It was all too much at once. He was glad Romance had stepped in to help. 

You sat there, blissfully unaware of the turmoil occurring within Mystery. The other members stared at the both of you in amusement, knowing just how deep Mystery's obsession with you was. When he talked, it was only ever about you. 

And once the members saw you passed out in Abby's arms, they could finally understand him. They could smell the purity radiating off you, and with that, a warm, longing feeling overcame them. They would often tease Mystery for his strange fixation with you, but now they were all just as crazy about you. 

An adorable, child-like giggle interrupted their thoughts. You thought it was silly how someone as talented as Mystery would be a fan of someone like you. He even said he didn't care about the other members, which you found even more amusing. 

Still, it made your heart flutter knowing you were special to him. You looked up at him and smiled even wider, almost laughing at the confused look on Mystery’s face. “Thank you for your support! I never would've thought I'd be saying that kinda thing to someone like you. I figured I was so irrelevant that no one would notice me, but it's crazy how you guys do”, you babble, oblivious to the changing emotions going through the boys.

‘Irrelevant’

The word sent ripples of disgust through them. 

Being the most level-headed of the group, Jinu asked the question that was on everyone’s minds. “Why would you be irrelevant?” 

Maybe it was because you’d just woken up, or the lack of food in your stomach, that you ended up speaking without thinking. “My manager likes to tell me that a lot because I'm the least popular member of Harmoness. But he thinks that that’s a good thing because my looks and vocals aren't very good”. 

Looking around the room, you realized you had chosen the wrong dialogue. You could see each of their faces, drenched in what looked like rage. You couldn't understand what about your sentence made them this angry, but still you apologized. 

“Sorry, I'm just rambling at this point. It's probably cause I'm so hungry, that's probably why I passed out. My manager has me on this really strict diet and I never had breakfast-”.

You quickly stopped yourself, realizing that this definitely wasn't helping the situation.

“I wasn't supposed to tell you that, please just forget everything you heard”. But looking around the room, you knew they wouldn't be able to. How could they, when someone as precious as you was forced to suffer, even just for a minute. It broke their hearts to think about. 

The sound of a door slamming open quickly drew your attention towards it, and you could see Baby running out of the room in a hurry. 

Did you do something to upset him? 

“He's just going to do something real quick, he'll be back,” Abby says, and you nod, still a bit confused. 

You felt a wave of awkwardness enter the room, so you quickly changed the subject. “So, how did you guys find the tour? Are you thinking of joining?” You were very curious to know, praying that they’d at least consider it. Because of their explosive popularity, you knew they'd be treated like gods if they were here.

Jinu spoke up, still looking frustrated. “It was alright, I mean people did keep sucking up to us. Although, Romance and Abby had no complaints about that”. You let out another giggle, yeah, that definitely sounded like them. 

The sweet sound that came out of you had put the boys in a temporary trance. To them, everything you did was adorable.

They didn't bother asking what you thought of the company, already knowing how mistreated you were. It was something Mystery had picked up on from looking at hours of behind-the-scenes footage of you. He’d picked up on your changing behaviour, quick weight loss, and awkward chemistry between your members. 

So after piecing together all the footage, he figured mistreatment was definitely plausible. But still, hearing it from you, seeing you try to hide it. It sickened, not just him, but all of them. 

It was also suspicious the way your ‘leader’, Jina, wasn't too pleased about the idea of helping you. She was confident someone would come find you, but from your screams, they could tell no one had come for hours. How could they just walk away from you? Plus, you seemed a little too attached to Abby’s chest, even refusing to let go once you reached the infirmary. 

Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing Baby holding several kinds of unhealthy-looking junk food. He plopped them down on your lap and looked away nonchalantly, “For you”.

You looked down at the pile, mouth watering at the sight of the buffet of calories. You couldn't remember the last time you had a burger, or even instant noodles. It was definitely too much for you to handle, but you appreciated his efforts. 

“Thank you so much”, you beamed. You were so grateful, not just to Baby, but to all of them. Never in your life had you felt so loved and cared for. 

As if possessed, you began digging into whatever random food you picked up from the pile. You scarfed down one burger for the next, and honestly, you didn't feel ashamed.  It would’ve been rude if you didn't eat the food Baby bought for you, that's the only reason you were eating it, you thought. 

Due to the speed of your consumption, you forgot to chew and ended up choking. You started coughing and looking around the room, in search of a drink. A hand touched your shoulder, and you look up to see Mystery, holding a bottle of water. 

Quickly, you took the drink and gulped it down. Once you were done you exhaled in relief, “You saved me”, you laughed, looking up at Mystery with gratitude. “I've not eaten this much in so long, I must've gotten a bit too excited”.

You turned to Baby, who was on his phone, and asked, “How much was all this? I'll pay you back”. He turned, looking bored, before returning to his phone. 

“The staff gave it to me for free”.

Honestly, you found that hard to believe, but maybe it was because of how famous Baby was. Perhaps they wanted to give a good impression of the company, so they didn’t want him paying. 

The others let out a small smirk, knowing what had really happened out there. He most likely sucked out the souls of some of the staff and took the food for himself. But he wouldn't tell you that. 

The sweet moment was eventually ruined by the sounds of agitated screaming coming from behind the door. “She ruined everything, Manager! I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen”.

Everyone, including you, cringed at the sounds of complaint. You prepared for the whirlpool of trouble you were about to receive. 

The door burst open, revealing a pissed, middle-aged man. His gaze locked on you, his mouth wide open, ready to scream at you. That was until he saw the five boys surrounding you, each looking at the manager with a look that could kill. 

Hojin quickly put on a rehearsed smile and came up to ask how you were. You knew it was just an act, something to look better in front of the boys but you still went along with it; you’d done enough to damage his reputation already.

Behind him, you could see your fellow members, glaring at you from the door, but once their eyes made contact with the Saja Boys, they quickly switched up, putting on a perfect smile and even fixing up their hair. The boys responded with a snarl.

“So, boys, I take it you enjoyed the tour,” Hojin remarked, not wanting to focus on you any longer. To him, the Saja Boys were a prize, and he needed to win it. Harmoness had clearly run its course, so maybe he'd have better luck with the Saja boys, he thought. 

None of the boys wanted to answer, especially not to someone like him. All they wanted to do was go back to watching you. Watch you smile. Hear you giggle. And feel the warmth your heart gave out. But they couldn't, not when there were others around.

Jinu, being the leader, was forced to speak up. “It was good, definitely needs some improvements though”.

“Oh, any suggestions?” Hojin questioned, eager to please in any way he could. 

“The dance studio needs to be closer to other people,” he sneered coldly, still not over how you’d been trapped for so long. His heart ached with the thought of you being scared and alone in there.

Hojin laughed awkwardly, not knowing what to say in response. Jina spoke up, coming closer to Jinu, “I'm assuming you're planning on joining our company, I'd love to see you more,” she flirts, getting closer and closer to him. 

During the tour, she was so focused on the members that they barely got anywhere. She also had a nasty habit of showing off whenever she could. Being the most popular member of Harmoness really gave her an ego.

“We'll let you know at the Idol Awards,” Jinu said, backing away from Jina. 

Your head shot up and turned towards Jinu, “You're going to be at the Idol Awards too?” Jinu's eyes went back to yours and immediately softened, feeling you were much easier to be around than these other pesky humans. 

You could see Abby about to respond, but was cut off by Soo-ah. “Doesn't she know anything? They announced this weeks ago”. Each of the boys turned to glare at the maknae, but her attention was too focused on you for her to take notice. 

Abby ignored her and spoke, leaning closer to you. “We'll be at the Idol Awards performing our new song, will you be there for us, love?”

Hojin and the girls looked at each other in confusion. How could you have gotten so close to them already? Jina was especially jealous, wondering how the spotlight was taken by someone as insignificant as you. 

The nickname sent you blushing, and you nodded. “We're also going to perform a new song there, we've been working really hard on it!”

“We can't wait to hear it, darling, but unfortunately, we have to leave now,” Jinu says, and you couldn't help the frown forming on your lips. You felt like you had just met them and wanted to spend more time with them. This is the best moment you've had in years. 

“Don't look too sad, princess, we'll meet again soon,” Romance smirked, and you perked up slightly at the thought. You were glad they wanted to see you, just as much as you wanted to see them. 

“And don't even think about paying me back for the snacks, they're all yours,” Baby chimes, his face showing a ghost of a smirk on it. 

Mystery gave you a shy wave and left along with the others. You were going to miss them. The Idol Awards weren’t that far away, but you had no idea how you were going to recover once they were gone. The mark they left on you stained layers deep. 

Although it definitely motivated you to practice even harder, knowing they were going to be there watching.

Jinu was the last to leave, but not before asking Hojin and the girls to come outside with him, leaving you alone. Thank goodness, you did not want another lecture from anyone right now. 

You started putting the pile of food on the nightstand, but something had caught your eye. On one of the crisp packets, you saw a Post-it note. 

xx-xxxx-xxxx  call me don't text I want to hear your voice ❤ - Baby 

Out of all the things you expected the note to say, it wasn't that. Despite his adorable, nonchalant on-stage persona, Baby was anything but. In person, he often kept to himself, hardly speaking and allowing his looks to do the talking for him. But online, he was the complete opposite. With his appearance hidden, he could speak his mind freely. It’s why Baby is so attached to using his phone.

It had been the reason why he was acting so bored when he was with you. On the outside, it looked as though he hardly cared for you, but on the inside, his heart was blooming with emotions just for you.

You really had no idea just how much these boys loved you. In your mind, you assumed the boys just wanted to be your friend.

What you didn't realize was that the boys weren't interested in being just friends, but so much more. 

But you were going to find that out soon. 

Very soon. 

────────────────────────────

a/n - thank you @jellyjellyghost for letting me know how to format korean phone numbers :D

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[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 3

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, comfort and control, hurt/comfort (if you squint)

A/N: Reading all your comments and reblogs always makes me smile! This part is a bit longer than the rest. I wanted to focus on building her trust and relationship with the boys, so there will be much more interactions and intimacy than the previous parts. I hope you all enjoy!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 3:

If You Stay

You don’t remember falling asleep. But you remember waking up.

The guest room is dim, wrapped in soft shadows, the silk sheets pulled up to your chin. The faint scent of rain and cedar lingers in the air—Jinu, you think distantly. It clings to your skin like a memory. One you shouldn’t have.

You must’ve fallen asleep after your talk with the boys in the afternoon. You’d admit, that did take a toll on you, and you were still feeling quite unwell from yesterday’s events. Hangovers don't just go away in a few hours. One of the boys must’ve carried you in here.

You sit up slowly. Your headache from earlier is gone. But something inside still hums. A weight behind your ribs. A tugging sensation that pulses faintly… toward them.

You still had too many questions you needed answers to. They said they were demons, so why are they here? They didn’t look like demons. They were sinfully beautiful, so you assume that definitely plays a part in it. Why did they sell their souls to Gwi Ma? Who was this Gwi Ma? Who were you to each of them in your past life? Just how many past lives have you had exactly? 

And most importantly, if they were demons hundreds of years old, why in the flying fuck are they in a K-pop idol group?

There’s a knock at the door, ceasing your thoughts. You freeze. But it doesn’t open.

“Y/N?” It’s Romance’s voice, low and careful. “Dinner’s ready. If you’re hungry.”

You don’t answer right away.

Not because you don’t want to. But because you’re afraid of what it means that you do. Still—you follow the sound.

The dining room is too elegant for six people. The table could seat twelve, But only one side is set—six seats arranged close together. The lighting is warm, soft. As if they’d planned for comfort. For your nerves.

The boys are already seated. But they all rise the moment they see you. Romance is the first to move, pulling out your chair with a slow, exaggerated flourish. “Right here, angel.”

You meet his eyes and you feel the pull again. He’s looking at you with the most tender expression. Like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. 

And you were.

Plates are filled before you can ask. Abby gently sets a bowl of soup in front of you—your favorite kind. You don’t remember telling them that. You’re not even sure you remember liking it until the smell hits you. Baby places a glass of water before you and you suck in a nervous breath as you feel a light kiss on the crown of your head. 

You’d never been treated like this before. Cherished. Not even by your own family. It was so foreign, you doubted it could be real. 

But as you gazed at each and every one of them, you could see it in their faces. The quiet relief. The tenderness. Their want to do these things for you. It was a feeling you had to get used to.

You didn’t touch the food right away. You just stared down at the dark wooden table, the linen napkin folded too neatly on your lap, and the spoon resting next to a bowl that smelled like home. If home had five soul-bound demons who watched you breathe.

Jinu watches carefully from across the table. He hasn’t touched his food.

“Eat,” he says quietly. “You’ll need your strength.”

You hesitate.

Romance spoke next. “If you’re waiting for poison, don’t worry. We only do that to each other.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. It was too much. All of it. You took a small sip. And then another. And the warmth spread to places in you that hadn’t been warm in months. You sighed, strangely feeling so much more at ease.

Romance leans closer. His voice is honey and hooks. “You’re still not feeling well during the day, right?”

You nod. Slowly. 

“That’s the bond,” Jinu says. “It’s active. But unstable.”

“The further you are from us,” Abby adds, “the worse it’ll get.”

“I’ve been alone for years,” you mutter, fingers tightening around your spoon. “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Baby says from the end of the table. Quiet. Sharp. “You won’t.” You flinch at his tone. But it doesn’t feel cruel—just true.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Romance sets his fork down and places his chin in his palm, eyes glittering in the candlelight. “You’re not a prisoner, you know.”

Your brow furrows.

He smiles. “We’re not keeping you here. But…we did have this place built for you.”

Your eyes snapped to him. "What do you mean you had it built for me?"

Romance’s smile was soft. Too soft. "Darling, this whole place was bought and designed for you. For when we found you. We just live in it."

You blink.

Had they been waiting for you that long? You hadn’t really thought about it before. The logistics of their story hadn’t fully registered. 

“You’d have your own space,” Jinu says softly, ever the diplomat. “A guest room. With a lock, if that makes you feel safer.”

Abby immediately frowns. “Why can’t she just stay in her room-room?” he grumbles, arms crossed. “It’s closer to mine.”

Your brows knit together. “Wait. My room?”

Romance’s smile is slow and feline, like he’s been waiting for that moment. “Of course. We had it ready since… well. A while.”

You blink. That didn’t answer your question.

Jinu doesn’t flinch. “Because that room doesn’t have a lock.”

Abby scowls, muttering something under his breath. Romance hums beside you. “Wouldn’t want one anyway.”

You whirl on him. “What was that?”

He holds up both hands in mock surrender, grinning like the devil. “Just saying. But okay, okay—guest room with a lock. For now.”

There’s a silence. Then Mystery murmurs almost too quietly: “…We’d break it if we had to.”

Your stomach twists. They’re joking. You hope they’re joking.

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Mystery pipes again. He’s seated closest to you, his plate untouched. His eyes never leave your hands. He wanted to grasp them. Feel your warmth. Feel your hands massage his hair just as you used to in your past life. He swallowed.

You press your lips together. It’s not that you don’t believe them. It’s that you do. And that terrifies you.

Romance watches the doubt dance across your face. He leans forward, just enough that you’re forced to look at him.

“You don’t have to say yes forever,” he says, voice low and intimate. “Just… stay. For now. Let your body heal. Let the bond stabilize. You don’t even have to talk to us. We’ll keep our distance if that’s what you want.”

At least that’s what she’ll think. Romance thinks to himself. With these guys? Yeah right.

You don’t speak. His voice softens. “You’ve been carrying this alone for so long, haven’t you? You’re getting sick. Dizzy. Faint.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’re tired. You’re having headaches. And we’re the only ones who can ease it. You feel that. So why are you still punishing yourself?”

You try to deny it. To push the tears back. But his words hit something raw. And real.

“I’m not trying to punish myself,” you whisper. “I just… I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll let you suffer for it.”

"You’ll be safe," Abby added gruffly. "No one touches you here. No one even gets close."

The silence that follows is thick. Your breathing is shallow. Their words registering. Was it really so bad? Letting them care for you? Being here with them. Having them treat you like you’ve never been treated before? 

Why were you still fighting it? There was so much you didn’t know, but as of this moment, you did know one thing. That they loved you in your past life. And love you still. Did that count? They yearn for you, and have been for lifetimes. And you knew deep in your heart you were starting to feel the same. Was that really so bad? 

To let them in? 

They were strangers, but they weren’t. They claim to be yours, so why do you keep questioning it? 

Then, slowly—almost in spite of yourself—you nod. “Just… a little while,” you say. “Until I feel better.”

You don’t see the look they share. The way Jinu’s shoulders finally lower. The flicker of possessive triumph behind Romance’s lashes. Or the way Mystery exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the moment you left him last.

You don’t see any of it. But you feel it. The shift. The settling. Something ancient and invisible clicks into place behind your ribs. And you don’t fight it anymore.

The bond sighs.

They insist on collecting your things that night. “We’ll go,” Abby says immediately. “You stay. Rest.”

“No, I—” You start, but Jinu raises a hand. “You’re still weak. If the bond flares while you’re alone, it could be dangerous. Let us.”

You glance between them—five men who could tear the world apart for you—and for once, it feels less like a threat and more like a promise.

“…Okay,” you say quietly. “Just—don’t touch my underwear drawer.”

Romance smirks. “No promises.”

“Romance,” Jinu snaps.

Mystery growls.

You sigh. I guess you did need underwear. “Fine. Just… don’t be creepy.”

Abby winks. “We’ll be fast. Promise.”

As they move, as doors open and shoes slip on, you stay behind with Baby, the silent protector watching your every move. But for some reason, it doesn’t scare you now. 

He approaches you, eyes intense and never as wary as the others. Like he��d never be sorry for having you and taking what’s rightfully his. He was silent, but intentional. 

He walks you to your room and you shiver as you feel his large hand on your lower back. He holds the door open for you before briefly muttering a faint “Goodnight, sweetheart” and closing the door shut. And for the first time in weeks… You don’t feel sick.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You sit on the same dining table for breakfast. Jinu had made you some toast sandwiches. The boys looked chirpy. Looks like someone’s in a good mood…

It was still so surreal to them how you were here- having breakfast with them. The very thought of this domestic life with you, caring for you, providing for you like partners almost made them purr in ecstasy. 

You were still in Jinu’s hoodie despite all your clothes laying in messy duffle bags, sleeves swallowing your hands, hair slightly damp from a quick shower. It took much restraint from Jinu to not pull you in his arms the moment you walked out of your room.

His hoodie looked right on you. Like it had always belonged there—like you had always belonged there. You didn’t realize it, but every thread of that oversized fabric clung to you like a memory, like a claim. It smelled like him, and that alone made something feral claw beneath his skin.

His jaw tightened as you crossed the room, bare legs brushing against soft fabric. You moved so carelessly, so trusting, not realizing you were walking a tightrope over a thousand years of obsession. Of agony. Of aching need.

You didn’t know he used to dream about this. That centuries ago, he’d wake from nightmares of you slipping through his fingers only to whisper your name into the night. He had waited lifetimes to see you like this again.

And now? Now, you were right there—wrapped in his scent, in his clothes, in his world—but still unsure if you belonged.

He smiled softly as you reached for a mug, but his hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to cage you to his chest, press his lips to your neck, and whisper, “This time, I’ll never let you die.”

He would never let you go again.

They were all quiet around you, letting you eat in peace. It should’ve been normal. It wasn’t.

"Are you going to work today?" Mystery asked, tilting his head.

"...Yes?"

"We don’t think you should go," Jinu said plainly.

You nearly choked on your toast. Say what now? "I have bills."

"You could quit," Romance offered. "Stay here. Rest. Sketch. Paint. Sleep."

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Sure, the offer sounded nice—dreamy, even. But it was the kind of nice that belonged in fairytales. People didn’t just quit their jobs and live off vibes and good intentions. In this economy?

You waited for the punchline… but it never came. They were all staring at you—completely serious. Like quitting your job was the obvious solution. Like it was the answer to every problem you’d ever had.

"What would I even do? Just exist as your little house pet?"

Mystery looked hopeful. Abby smiled. You sighed. "No way. I’m not freeloading."

"You could be our assistant," Abby grinned. "Take notes. Carry snacks. Pet Mystery when he gets upset."

"Not happening."

They let it go.

But Romance’s eyes gleamed. Like he was already planning a way to make it so. 

After breakfast, you went to your room to change into your work clothes. Stepping out and closing the door firmly, you make your way to the kitchen where Jinu hands you another toast claiming you needed another ‘energy boost’ for the day. You take it in thanks and drown out his last ditch effort to convince you to quit, waving him off with a cute smile that shut him up. You make your way to the entrance and stop in your tracks. Abby, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself for 8:30 in the morning. His sweatshirt hung loose over his frame, hood drawn up, but there was no hiding that build. Or that face. Or the smirk that crept up the moment he saw you in your work clothes.

"Hello there, sweetheart," he drawled.

You froze, mid-bite, a piece of toast tragically dangling from your mouth. "...If this is another attempt to get me to quit my job, you can turn right back around."

Abby grinned like the smug menace he was. “Sadly, no. I’ve accepted your tragic refusal of our generous sugar-demon lifestyle.”

He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his hoodie pocket like this was totally normal. “So instead, I’ll be escorting my darling little starshine to work today.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry—your what now?”

“My darling. Little. Starshine,” he repeated, grinning wider with each word.

You deadpan, a blush of pink rising to your cheeks. “Try that again and I’ll call HR.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m walking you to work. Orders from the Bond Gods. Or Jinu. Same thing, really.”

“You all really expect me to be escorted to work?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You’re still weak. The bond’s healing you, but slowly. We won’t let you go alone again. Not when you’re like this.”

You hesitate. He steps closer, but not too close. “Let us keep you safe. Just for today.”

“…Fine,” you mutter.

“And tomorrow…”

“Really?”

“And the day after that…”

“Okay, I get it. Fine. But you have to hide.”

He blinks. “Hide?”

“I’m not walking next to Abby from the Saja boys. I’ll be the talk of the entire district. They’ll probably think I’m kidnapped.”

He snorts. “Technically…”

“Abby.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls his hood lower. “But I draw the line at hiding my abs.”

You roll your eyes. “Just… be normal. Please.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Even in a hoodie and mask, he doesn’t look normal. He looks like a movie star trying not to be recognized—and failing. Your coworkers notice him immediately.

“Y/N…” one of the baristas whispers as you clock in. “Who. Is. That.” 

You pretend not to hear.

Another coworker giggles. “Is he your boyfriend? Oh my god, did you meet him at the club?”

“No!” you say too quickly.

“But he didn’t come inside with us… where did you meet him then?”

You force a laugh. “He’s just a friend. He’s helping me out since I’ve been sick.” 

They seem to buy it—until someone brings up the guy from the other night.

“Hey, what happened to Jae? He said he’d walk you home, but we never heard from him. Did he ghost or something?”

You freeze.

“I, um… ran into someone else before he could. Didn’t see him after that.”

You stare hard at the pastry tray, pretending to adjust the layout. But inside, your stomach twists. What did happen to him?

You’d ask the boys later. …If you wanted the truth. Though, you’re not quite sure if you really do. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Your shift drags on longer than usual. Not because of work.

Because of him.

Baby sits at the back corner, hoodie pulled low, sipping a black coffee he hasn’t touched in twenty minutes. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. Your coworkers whisper, asking if he was an idol or something because he looked too handsome to be just a normal customer. You cringed at that.

It hasn’t really registered until now just how insane it was, really. You were now co-living with one of the rising pop-groups in the country. You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. 

You try to focus. But you can feel his eyes. Not just looking—possessing. Guarding. Burning. Everytime you talked to a customer (particularly male) you could feel his eyes harden, glaring holes into whoever it was that talked to you. 

One of them tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention, asking with an “excuse me” if he could get some hot sauce with his order. Baby nearly jumped out of his seat if it weren’t for your warning glare. 

You approach the brooding demon, flipping open your notepad. “You’re not subtle, you know.”

He doesn’t smile. “They shouldn’t look at you.”

Your heart thumps. “It’s a customer’s job to look…and order…and ask...”

“They shouldn’t talk, either. Nor should they ever touch.”

You try not to smile. “You’re terrifying.”

His eyes flick up. Dark. Hungry. “Good.”

You bring him a refill anyway. “Behave.”

He doesn’t.

He waits outside when your shift ends, hands in pockets. Doesn’t say a word as you fall into step beside him. The air between you buzzes. You glance over. “Why do you look like someone kicked your favorite pet?”

He doesn’t answer. You poke him in the side. “Baby.”

His jaw flexes. Fighting his control to pull you in closer as people walked by. “I don’t like them talking to you.”

You sigh. “We’ve been over this. It’s my job.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I do.”

“You have us.”

“That’s not a job.”

“You could quit. Let us take care of you.”

“No.”

He frowns, lips twitching down.

“You’re pouting.”

He looks at you, expression unreadable. You reach out, amused, and gently press his cheek. Something shifts. He grabs your hand—fast but gentle—and kisses your knuckles. 

The world slows.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t remember. Even if you never say it.” His eyes hold you in place. Burning. Certain. There’s no hesitation in his voice. No tremble. Just absolute conviction—like he wasn’t stating a hope, but a law of the universe. 

Baby steps closer, the streetlights casting silver on his sharp features. His gaze drops to your lips like he’s already imagining how they’d feel crushed beneath his.

“You don’t have to love me back yet,” he says, voice low and velvet-dark. “But don’t ever think I’ll stop. Even if you don’t want us to take care of you. I’ll keep pushing.”

Your stomach flips. You hate how warm your skin feels. How part of you leans toward him without meaning to. How his scent—like storm-wet pine and danger—makes your fingers twitch with a need you can’t name. His hand lifts to your face, gentle despite the fire in his eyes, knuckles brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he touched too hard.

“If anyone else touches you again,” he adds softly, “I don’t care if they’re your customer. They won’t have hands left to touch with.”

You don’t answer.

But your heart races all the way home.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

After dinner, the boys were gathered on the second floor of the apartment. They had turned it into a studio to practice their choreo for performances. You could hear their music and their footsteps as they danced to the beat. 

You padded around the apartment to explore in the meantime. The apartment was massive. You didn’t realize how massive until you started walking. Every hallway turned into a gallery. Every room had windows tall enough to drown in. You passed a music room, a library, a room full of costumes and stage lights. You had no idea such penthouses existed in the city. But then again, they were demons who’d been in existence for hundreds of years. Who knows how much money they got.

On the kitchen counter, you found a sketchbook. Yours. But filled with things you didn’t remember drawing. Five faces. A moonlit shrine. A shattered sword. You still hadn’t gotten used to drawing what you figured were memories from your past lives. This was evidence in itself that they were telling the truth. You decide not to fight it anymore.

On the dresser, you find an earring. No pair. You picked it up and your chest twisted, it felt a bit familiar.

In the lounge, a scarf folded neatly on a velvet chair. You held it to your face and inhaled. A scent you couldn’t name, but the fabric felt soft. Again, familiar. 

You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. It was like finding single pieces of a gigantic puzzle. You were sure these things meant something to one of them. You’d ask, in time. 

After their practice was over, the boys found you sat in the livingroom. You were reading the book Romance had given you which made him smile. They greeted you one by one, some went off to shower, some to the kitchen for a snack. 

It was Jinu who sat next to you. 

“How’s the choreo going?” you ask, eyes never leaving the page. 

“Good. How’s the book?” He nodded. He knew how badly Romance had wanted to give that to you. 

“Good.” You looked up to softly smile at him. You were halfway through the story. The characters blurred together—tragic lovers separated by fate, drawn to one another through time. A story too close to your own.

Jinu looked at the book title with a gaze you couldn’t recognize. Like he was debating on something he wanted to say. 

“Did you want to hear another story?” 

That piqued your interest. You slowly shut the book, placing it down on the couch as a sign for him to continue. Jinu didn’t look at you. His gaze remained downcast. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. 

“I wasn’t always someone people bowed to.”

You looked up at him. The air around him seemed to change—heavier, stiller. Like his shadow was longer than it had been a second ago.

“I was born in a fishing village by the bay,” he said. “Back when the tides still carried salt and prayers.” 

“My mother was a seamstress. My sister was eight years younger. We were poor. Poor enough to boil weeds and pretend it was soup.”

Your breath caught. His eyes seemed distant. Far away as he recalled his life four hundred years ago. 

“The only thing we owned of value was a bipa. My mother’s. She taught me how to play it before her hands got too swollen to hold the strings.” His eyes went distant, haunted. “I played in the markets for coins. It was never enough.”

He paused, jaw tight. “Then one night, I heard a voice.”

“Gwi Ma offered me everything. Fame. Gold. Silk sheets and stages carved from jade. And I said yes.”

You stared at him. He finally met your eyes—and this time, the pain there was real.

“I left,” he whispered. “Without a word. My mother. My sister. I never even turned around. I don’t know if they lived another week.”

You released a breath as you felt your heart fracture at his words.

“I just… ran. Into the palace. Into adoration. And never looked back.”

He exhaled, eyes heavy with guilt. “The crowds worshipped me. I performed for kings and their consorts. They called me divine. The courtiers fought for my smile. And it still wasn’t enough.”

“I didn’t deserve peace,” he said, voice brittle. “But then I saw you.” His voice softened—fragile like old silk.

“You were a maid. You had ink on your fingers and a habit of humming while sweeping the floors. You didn’t bow. You didn’t flatter. You rolled your eyes at me.”

Your chest tightened. So that’s who you were in your past life when you first met him.

“And when I asked you why… you said I looked lonely.”

A pause.

“I fell in love with you the moment you looked at me like I was a boy. Not a god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But I made you weak. I brought you too close. It was impossible for someone like you, so pure of heart, to exist in that palace. I should’ve known there would be vipers waiting to strike.”

You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t.

“There was a concubine who used to love watching me play. She’d call upon me to her chambers for performances. Pay a hefty sum for an appearance in her parties. She saw you and I in one of the pavilions and she didn’t like it.” A look of anguish flashed on Jinu’s face. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone found out. I wasn’t a fool. I knew the women of the palace liked me for more than just my voice.” His fists tightened on his lap. 

“She poisoned your tea. I found you in the gardens…you…you were still smiling.”

He blinked once. Just once. “You died in my arms. And I didn’t even know how to mourn.”

You stared at him, tears pricking your eyes. You wished so hard to remember. To recall who he was back then. Something, anything, so you could share a memory with him.

“I went back to Gwi Ma. I begged. I offered everything again.” He swallowed. “That’s when the pact began. He told me… if I could bind other demons to your soul, tether you tightly enough, you’d return.” His eyes flicked to yours. He was trembling.

“So I did. I found them. One by one. I gave up pieces of myself to forge the bond. Even if I had to share you, I- I was willing to do anything to have you back. I waited lifetimes. We all did.”

He reached out now, slowly, like you might disappear. “And now you’re here.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But your body leaned toward his—drawn like a string was being pulled behind your ribs. He exhaled shakily. “I still don’t know what happened to them. My mother. My sister. I never went back.”

You reached for his hand. Fingers brushing his wrist. It was the gentlest thing you’d ever done. Jinu held onto your touch like a lifeline as the pain of his memories came rushing back.

“I think… they’d forgive you,” you whispered. He laughed softly. Bitter. Grateful. “I don’t.”

And somehow that made you want to forgive him more. You let him pull you closer. Let your head fall beneath his chin, chest pressed lightly to his side. He held you like you might break. Like he didn’t deserve to hold you at all. This was the closest he’s ever been to you since first seeing you in that square. His heart constricted. 

“I won’t make the same mistake again,” he murmured. You felt the words against your scalp. “I will never leave you. Even if it kills me.”

You tilted your head up—slow, searching. His lips hovered a breath away. The look in his eyes was agonizing: pure want, reverence, restraint. He was begging without words.

And maybe you wanted to say yes. Maybe you wanted to close that distance.

But something in you hesitated. The memory of danger still ghosting your ribs. The smell of blood. The crackle of old fire. You shouldn’t want this. He was a demon.

But then again—

He was yours.

Jinu didn’t move. Not really. But his eyes…God, his eyes were starving.

Like a man who hadn’t eaten in centuries and now sat trembling before the one thing he was never allowed to touch. His fingers flexed once on his thigh, like he was holding himself back from grabbing you. From yanking you into his arms and claiming what had always been his.

His lips parted—his breath shallow. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered, voice ragged. “Not yet.”

That almost did it.

Not yet.

Not no.

He wasn’t denying that he wanted to. Only that he was trying—failing—not to. You felt something pulse low in your spine. The bond again. Soft and hot, like a wire coiling tighter. Tighter.

You leaned closer. Not much. Just enough for your shoulder to brush his chest. His breath hitched.

“Y/N…” he warned. Or maybe it was a plea. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did. You knew exactly.

Your hand grazed his chest—over fabric, over his heart. It beat like a war drum under your palm. And he—this ancient thing with a voice like honey and a soul soaked in sin—shook under your touch.

“You waited for me,” you said softly. “Across lifetimes.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Every night. Every fucking century.”

“And now I’m here,” you whispered.

“And now you’re here.”

He reached up—finally—like a man about to touch something sacred. Fingers grazing your cheek so gently it made you ache. You didn’t flinch this time. You leaned into it. And when he cradled your face in his hands, it wasn’t just touch.

It was claim.

The bond lit up like a match to kerosene—searing, seeping through every crack in your soul like molten gold. You gasped. So did he. His forehead pressed against yours, and for a moment, the whole world narrowed to this.

Him. You. Breath tangled. Thread pulled tight. Two hearts beating like one. 

His voice broke against your mouth.

“I loved you. Before I even knew what love meant. I loved you in that garden. In that palace. In every life you bled through. I loved you while you died in my arms. And I love you now.”

Tears slowly gathered in the corner of your eyes at his confession. Your chest tightening with every word he uttered. Let all reason be damned. Nothing in the world could be more true right now, more real, than this.

Your lips brushed his when you exhaled. You didn’t mean to. You were just breathing—but it was enough.

It shattered him.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like this was his first meal in centuries. Like his immortality had meant nothing without this.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was ruinous. Possessive. His mouth moved against yours like he’d memorized it across time—hungry, reverent, desperate. Like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

And you…

You kissed him back.

Because some part of you remembered. The garden. The incense. The ache of his name in your mouth before it was ever spoken.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand slid to your waist. He groaned low in his throat when you pressed into him, fire threading under your skin, a live wire finally connected.

The kiss slowed. Deepened.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes were wild.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “You always were.”

And in that moment, you didn’t deny it.

Not this time.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The kiss hadn’t been loud.

Barely a sigh. A whisper of fabric. The faint rustle of limbs and emotion finally giving in.

But they felt it.

From different corners of the apartment, the bond trembled like a shared heartbeat. A hush fell over the rooms like snowfall. Every boy froze.

Abby paused in the hallway with his forehead pressed to the doorframe, eyes shut.

Romance stood motionless in the kitchen, hands tight around the edge of the marble counter, breath held like a confession.

Mystery curled beneath his bedsheets, face half-buried in the sleeve of your old hoodie, his claws twitching against the mattress.

Baby sat in the far window seat of the lounge, unmoving, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable—except for the slight twitch of his jaw.

They knew. They didn’t need to see it. They felt it through the bond—the hum, the spark, the slow unfurling of something sacred.

You kissed Jinu.

And something ancient and knotted in all of them unclenched. Not jealousy. Not really. It wasn’t rage or bitterness that stirred in their chests.

It was relief.

Because Jinu deserved this.

He had waited the longest. He had suffered the most. He had built the very foundation of the Crimson Pact with trembling hands and bloodied knees, driven by the memory of your lifeless body in his arms. He had found them. Bound them. Led them.

And now…He had finally been given a sliver of what he lost.

Abby exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His hand closed into a fist against the doorframe. “Good for you, hyung,” he whispered.

Romance closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, the corner of his mouth lifting into a quiet, almost reverent smile. “Took him fucking long enough.”

Mystery blinked slowly, purring low in his throat. “She’s starting to remember,” he murmured into the blankets. “She’s letting herself feel it.”

And Baby… Baby didn’t move. But in his eyes, a hunger lit up. Not the kind that devoured. The kind that waited. That watched from the shadows with claws pressed to his ribs.

It would be his turn soon. He could wait. He’d waited before. But not much longer.

Across the apartment, the bond shimmered—warmer now. Alive in a way it hadn’t been in lifetimes. Each of them felt it. Not just the connection, but the hope.

She’s letting us in. She’s starting to fall again. Their hands twitched. Hearts pounded. Mouths parted with breathless need. And beneath it all, one singular thought pulsed through the Crimson Pact:

Soon, it’ll be me.

Not out of competition. Not to steal the moment. But because you belonged to all of them. And in every life, one by one… you had.

Jinu had always kissed you first.

But he would not be the last. TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ───────── A/N: Huaaah I died inside writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this one. The next chapter follows the same theme of relationship building and we'll get to see more intimate moments and backstories of the other boys! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and feel free to Reblog and Like this chapter if you enjoyed it! Till next time! Willa x.

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Taglist: @faerie-soirxx @strayharmony943 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @anonymousewrites @cottonheadedninnymugggins @apelepikozume @moonlight-rosevine @yepitsmesendhelp @lovely-maryj @nonetheartist @ateezswonderland @sarah22447 @zuhaeri @enerofairy @littlemissfix-itfic @meeeegaaan @luxylucylou @hornehlittleweeblet2 @natllo @levifiance @lavnderluv @the-sweet-psycho @shinebright2000 @weponxwrites @raineandcl0uds @loomindoors @bearb33 @iv-vee @realifezompire @jamaicanqueen007 @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @unsolicitedopal @candylandrules @sleepyamaya @miffysoo @scaranao @bloobewy

[supershit-hits]

i never was the good samaritan

clark kent (superman 2025) x f!reader

anon’s ask: “imagine him [clark] with literally polar opposite black cat. but they match so well.”

summary: a stupid bet between two coworkers with allegedly opposite morals. if all’s fair in love, war, and corporate life, then who’s willing to be kinder for a month?

word count: 13k

warnings/tags: +18 mdni, fluff, comfort and angst at times, banter, feels, grumpy!reader x sunshine!clark, enemies/coworkers to lovers, kind of jealous!clark if you squint, sort of slow-burn office romance, kind of second chance romance, dramatic love confessions bc i love them, miscommunication, tiny mention of reader’s hair, making out, dry humping, happy ending.

a/n: first of all, I wanted to thank you for all the support on my recent post !!! i feel like this is kind of a disaster because i finished it using the last two brain cells i had left, so if you come across shitty writing, please just nod along. anyway, i really hope you enjoy it. i’d love to know your thoughts on it. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. and to the anon who shared this idea with me: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! <333

The worst kind of days are usually preceded by rain.

That’s something a scientist might say, though you’re no scientist yourself. You’re a journalist; therefore, your profession has absolutely nothing to do with science. Either way, you’re pretty certain there must be at least one expert out there who would agree with you.

You had checked the weather app on your phone the night before, hoping that somehow, by the time morning came and you had to get ready for work, the weather would clear up and a warm beam of sunshine would follow you on your way to the office.

When your alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m., with sleep still blurring the edges of your sight, you notice the soft patter of droplets on your bedroom window, and you can already tell those gray clouds portend a series of unfortunate events that will unfold during this rainy Wednesday.

Rain is no good. For different reasons, listed down below:

a) You don’t own a car, nor do you know how to drive one.

b) The boots you were gifted on your last birthday, the ones you use for the days when the city feels underwater, are supposed to be water-resistant, though they’ve betrayed you on several occasions.

c) It’s only a matter of time before your hair swells up because of all the humidity.

The worst thing is that some people, other human beings who breathe the same air as you, seem to enjoy these days. For motives you’ll never be able to comprehend, they look forward to them, gushing about the apparent charm and appeal of drizzle. Perhaps the government could use that eagerness to spot potential future criminals.

Lazily, you pull on several layers of clothing: a plain t-shirt, a sweater, and your trench coat. You choose a darker pair of jeans so that any rain-soaked patches won’t make you look like you’ve peed yourself, which has happened before. The temperature has dropped drastically while you were sleeping, and now every room in your apartment feels cold and uninviting as you gather your things.

You know for a fact that the second you step out of this building, you’ll feel like absolute crap. But you can’t stay home and avoid your responsibilities, because it turns out you certainly enjoy having Wi-Fi and food on your stomach at the end of a long day.

And those are things you wouldn’t be able to afford if you didn’t work, because they cost money. Lots of it. So, in the end, you have no option left but to be a functional adult and go to work, contributing to the lovely city of Metropolis by writing articles for a living.

This doesn’t mean that you hate your job. In fact, you love it. You love writing, for it’s the only thing that’s stayed constant in your whole life ever since you were a kid.

The culprit for your attitude is the rain. It makes you insufferable to be around. You're no stranger to your own moods. You do realize rainy days turn you into someone more volatile.

Yet clear skies are no different. You’ve been in a mood for… forever, actually. For the past year, at least. That’s what Jimmy and Lois say. 

By the time you make it to the subway, the train you should’ve taken to be on time is already gone, your scarf smells funny, and Matthew’s standing there, just an inch away from your face.

Oh, good ol’ Matthew. A guy, maybe a couple of years older than you, who’s been trying to get your name, number, or even email address for the past few months. You see him every morning as you leave for work, and despite not succeeding in his task, he doesn’t seem to plan on giving up.

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glance to your left, not even bothering to turn your head to face him. “Matthew. If it isn’t another day of smelling your breath way too early in the morning.”

He ignores the part about his breath. Instead, he replies, “I remember telling you that you can just call me Matt.”

“That’s strange, because I remember telling you I’d never do that.”

It surprises you that he still thinks you’re playing hard to get, given it’s been four months and you’ve made it more than clear that you have no interest in him.

He grins, his hands in his pockets. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get your sense of humor.”

“Of course you won’t. It’s reserved for highly clever individuals.”

“Gosh, you’re so mean.” This time, he stares ahead, sighing. “Have I ever told you I’m a sucker for these kinds of days?”

One of your eyelids begins twitching. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“You don’t like the rain?” His eyes sparkle with what could be described as amusement. “You know, opposites attract. It’s just inevitable.”

This is the kind of interaction you’re forced to endure before you’ve even had breakfast. You wish for the next train to derail and hit you with all its might.

As you set foot in the Daily Planet’s lobby, the rain has evolved from harmless drizzle to complete downpour, the wind unhinged, having spent the last ten blocks trying to steal your umbrella from your own hands. It is now useless, along with your drenched coat and suspiciously squishy socks.

You’re the last one to manage to squeeze into the elevator, which is beyond packed. As you maneuver inside, you accidentally jab a woman’s leg with your umbrella handle, and she mutters something under her breath. Something that sounds a lot like a swear.

“Sorry,” you murmur, avoiding all possibilities of making eye contact with her, although you feel her unfaltering gaze the full thirty seconds it takes to reach your floor.

Holding your bag and umbrella to your chest, you make your way through the maze of desks, nodding your head at those who greet you. You peel off your coat, hanging it from the back of your chair, observing the tiny droplets that start to drip onto the carpet below. You search for your notebook, digging it out and letting out a breath of relief when you notice none of the pages have been damaged by water.

It’s only when you finally sit down that you let yourself close your eyes for a moment, folding your arms over your desk and resting your forehead against them. You can’t deny you feel miserable. You should’ve called in sick.

You feel the warmth of someone standing close to you, and you don’t need to look to know who it is. You’d recognize the scent of his cologne or the sound of his footsteps anywhere, though you really hope that doesn’t sound as weird out loud as it does in your head.

“Turn around, Kent. We’re closed today,” you mumble with your face still pressed to the desk, voice muffled into the crook of your arm.

“You look like you’ve just got out of the shower,” Clark shoots back, the faint hint of a smile in his tone.

That’s when you decide to stop hiding, straightening your back to squint up at him. You should’ve kept your head down: he looks perfect. His hair is neat, his suit unbothered by the rain. You huff when you notice your reflection on his glasses. “How are you… dry?”

“I used my umbrella. They do serve a purpose.”

“Well, mine—” you snap between gritted teeth, ducking under your desk to retrieve the ruined thing and holding it up to shove it into his face, “—has decided to stop functioning properly today.”

He lowers your hand, his forehead crinkling. “Have you been nice to him?”

“Him? Are you personifying my umbrella?”

“I have a spare at home. If you want it, I could bring it tomorrow,” he suggests, changing the subject, and he can’t quite look you in the eye without averting his gaze.

This is where you draw the line. Forcing yourself to act politely, you say, “Thank you, but I don’t need it. I’ll fix mine. I’m sure it’ll probably stop raining in a couple of hours.”

A crack of thunder rattles the windows. Behind you, Jimmy nearly jumps to his feet, startled, drawing in a long breath.

“You okay, buddy?” Clark asks.

“Sure,” Jimmy answers, tugging at his shirt collar. “I’ve never been better.”

Clark raises his eyebrows at him, not convinced, but chooses not to press him. He shifts his weight from one foot to another and clasps his hands behind his back, returning his focus to you. Sometimes, he stares at you in such a way that makes you feel you’re being examined under the lens of a microscope. “Have you already had breakfast?”

“No.”

“Want me to—”

You cut him off before he goes any further. “Clark, I’m fine. Save your kindness for someone who truly wants it.”

His lips form a straight line, and without saying anything else, he jams his hands into his front pockets, walking away to his own desk. Maybe the tone you used wasn’t the appropriate one, but shortly after, you shake that feeling of guilt off.

On nights when you can’t sleep, or on certain days when your eyes keep finding their way back to him when they shouldn’t, you often wonder how he can always seem willing to help. Is it performative? Would he like to be voted as the best employee of the century?

But deep down, you know the reason behind his infinite generosity. It has a name, which starts with an S and rhymes with man.

Let’s put a pin on that. You’ll get back to that later.

“You’re gonna turn that poor man into a villain,” Jimmy says, his voice barely above a whisper. You have to crane your neck to get a look at his face, and even so, you stifle a laugh at his expression. He seems genuinely worried. “I mean it. He’ll have an identity crisis, and it’ll be awful.”

“I think you forget he’s a grown man.” You flick your fingers across the keyboard, checking your inbox. “Don’t worry, Jimmy. He’ll survive.”

“You’re vile.”

You spin around in your chair, scoffing. “Come on! Me? Vile? For not worshipping the ground he walks on like everybody else?”

Jimmy throws his arms out, seemingly defeated. “That’s because he’s the nicest guy to ever exist!”

“I just don’t want him to be nice to me. That’s all.” You scrunch up your face, your jaw tightening. “I don’t hate him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

It’s hard to explain your relationship with Clark, especially to Jimmy, who’s been his best friend for a while and would go to the moon and back for him. He raises his palms, bowing his head. “I feel like a child of divorce.”

“What a weird use of that concept. We were never together.”

“Well, almost.”

“No.”

“Technically, you went on one date.”

Returning your attention to your computer, you rejoice without emotion, “Unlike him, I did show up to the restaurant.”

That appears to be enough to shut him up, and he goes back to work.

The rest of the day unfolds quite easily. Nothing remarkable happens, at least not until you’re on your lunch break, sipping from your water bottle as Lois helps you polish the wording on an article you’ve been working on for a week now. Without knowing when, you two had fallen into a routine where you became each other's proofreaders.

You’d started the draft on paper for some reason you can’t remember. She scribbles in the margins next to your older notes from days ago, biting the end of her pen as she frowns at one word you’ve underlined.

You’re about to finish your salad when something exciting finally occurs on this rainy Wednesday’s workday.

One of the interns is carrying what looks like an entire week’s worth of paper and folders to Perry’s office, and he’s aiming to do it in a single trip. You watch as the tower teeters dangerously, and then, since it was bound to happen, it collapses.

You can’t say you didn’t see that coming. Why didn’t he think twice before trying to carry a stack almost as tall as Clark?

It’s like conjuring him with a thought. One second, the mess exists, and the next, Clark’s kneeling beside the flustered intern, helping him collect the disaster, a gentle smile on his face. Chaos, you've noticed, seems to have a way of summoning him.

“I’m such an idiot,” the boy breathes, rising to his feet.

“Hey, no big deal,” Clark retorts, patting him on the back. “I’ve been on a good streak lately, but this happens to me weekly. Perry won’t mind as long as you get them to him in one piece.”

Clearly enamored with Clark, the intern nods fervently and hugs the papers to his chest before hurrying off and disappearing.

You finish chewing a particularly salty piece of lettuce, and afterwards, because you don’t always let your better judgment catch up to your mouth, you hear yourself saying, “Doesn’t he get tired of playing the part of the upstanding citizen?”

The room goes dead silent. You’ve seen this happen in movies, the uncanny stillness where you could hear a pin drop. At first, he doesn’t move. His mouth hangs slightly open, his cheeks adopting a sudden flush. But the moment he seems to come back to real life, he can’t do anything but blink at you, appearing embarrassed. “Excuse me?”

If Lois’ panicked expression is anything to go by, things aren’t going that well. “Hey, guys, why don’t we—”

“I was just thinking out loud, Kent,” you interrupt her, dumping your empty salad container and closing the distance between you. “I can’t wrap my head around someone acting like they’re on stage all the damn time.”

“You really think I wake up every day and put on an act?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” You take another step, practically looming over him. “I wonder if your modest decency will ever run out.”

His nostrils flare with each of your words. In that split second, you realize you haven’t been this close in a while. “Maybe if you tried being decent for more than five minutes, you’d see it’s not an act. It’s only called being nice.”

If Jimmy hadn’t materialized out of thin air to separate you, you believe your noses would’ve touched. “Are you seriously fighting?”

“We’re not fighting,” Clark shoots back.

“It certainly looks like it,” Jimmy says.

“Hold on, don’t interrupt the office sweetheart.” You poke Clark’s chest with your finger, feeling nothing but hardness. “I’d love to know more of your thoughts on my attitude. Would you do me a favor and lecture me after work?”

“Well, starting with that sarcasm of yours—”

“I have an idea!” Lois chimes in, and the three of you turn around to see her. She’s smiling. “Jimmy, I need your approval first.”

“Yes, m’lady. I live to serve.” He bows theatrically and makes his way to her. She puts her hands around her mouth and whispers something in his ear, and an almost cartoonish grin stretches across his face.

He covers Lois’ forehead with his palm. “We must protect your brain. It’s one of the last treasures we have as a country.” Then he flicks his eyes again to Clark and you, enjoying himself, and the sight alone makes you feel uneasy.

You’re starting to believe that in the same way bad days follow rain, terrible plans are always preceded by Jimmy’s smirk.

“Will you let me do the honors?” he asks Lois, and the instant she gives him a thumbs-up, he steps forward. “It’s become clear that you have strong opinions about kindness, or the lack of it. Which is why we’re proposing a bet, starting now. It’s called the Good Samaritan Challenge.”

Clark narrows his eyes. “The what?”

“The Good Samaritan Challenge, pal. Are you even listening?” Jimmy repeats, jutting out his hip. He quickly tells Lois to bring a whiteboard, and she’s off like a shot. “Whoever is objectively kinder during the next thirty calendar days wins.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

Lois elbows you playfully as she comes back with the whiteboard. “Is it?” She raises her brows, handing the board to Jimmy.

He grabs a marker, draws two columns, and writes your name on one and Clark’s on the other. “Here’s the thing. You’ll both try to be the better person for a whole month. Lois and I, as the judges, will track your good deeds. But no cynical motives, alright? It all has to come from the heart.”

Clark seems to be weighing his options when you speak again. “What are the stakes?”

His shoulders look visibly tense. “Wait, you’re agreeing to this?”

“Depends on what each of you wants as the prize,” Lois answers in response to your question, resting her elbows on her desk and propping her chin upon her palms.

You glance at Clark. “If I win, I get an exclusive interview with Superman. You’d have to get it for me, of course, since you’re the only one who’s ever spoken a word to him.”

It's no coincidence you're asking to meet with Metropolis's biggest hero. You watch him flinch, tongue-tied, as he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck.

Again, you know exactly what you’re asking for, and the reason why.

“And what about you, Clark?” Lois asks.

His lashes flutter together as he considers any possible answer. “You’d have to proofread all my articles for three months,” he explains, fully facing you. “I’m guessing you won’t mind the extra work.”

“Don’t get too excited, because it won’t happen.”

“It will.”

“It won’t.”

“Trust me, it will.”

“Shut up.”

“Guys?” Jimmy intervenes, waving the marker.

“What?” You and Clark answer in unison, and you roll your eyes at him.

Trying to hide his smile, Jimmy concludes, “Shake on it to seal the deal.”

You extend your hand immediately, scrutinizing him with undivided attention. He spares Lois and Jimmy one last look before taking it, his grip firm.

“Your hands are so sweaty.”

“What? No!” you reply, your nose wrinkling. “Yours are.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Leaning in, you murmur your next words low enough so only he can hear them: “You better get ready for that interview.”

He chokes on his own words. “You’re—”

“I have so much to ask him.” You’re genuinely grinning now. “So much to ask you.”

May the games begin, and let the kindest person win.

The café door chimes as Lois steps inside, scanning the crowded morning scene for you among the swarm of people.

It’s the day after the bet began, and you still have fifteen minutes before the clock strikes nine. She spots you and heads your way, placing her bag on the chair beside you and reaching into her coat pocket, but then she notices the coffee already waiting on the table.

“I took care of it,” you say, pushing the cup toward her.

Looking visibly pleased, she wraps her hands around it, sitting down by your side. “Wow. Is this your first act of kindness for the day?”

“I thought an old man was lost on the subway, so I tried talking to him. He must’ve thought I was trying to steal his wallet.”

Lois exhales a small laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “This could be fun, you know?”

You slouch deeper into your seat. “Right now, I care about winning. I can have fun in other ways.”

“You could even see where it goes,” she says casually, not missing a beat.

“Where does what go?”

She shrugs, as if the answer’s obvious. “The thing with you and Clark. It’s—”

“Okay. Stop right there,” you warn, holding up a hand. “You go any further and I’m taking your coffee back.”

Taking a long sip, she shuts her eyes close, then opens them again, her brows snapping together. “I’m just saying that the two of you might finally learn to get along. Think of poor Jimmy and me.”

Your gaze lands on her cup, half-wishing you’d saved a few sips of your own drink instead of downing it in the blink of an eye before she arrived. Your hand instinctively searches your bag for some chewing gum.

She studies you in silence, leaning back. “Is this about that failed date you had? You hate him for standing you up?”

You tilt your head, clicking your tongue once your fingers brush the last piece of gum you had left. You unwrap it, popping it into your mouth. “First of all, I wouldn’t consider that a date,” you say, lips pressed into a slight frown. “And why do you guys keep saying I hate him? That’s a strong feeling.”

There’s palpable hesitation in her speech. “This is starting to sound a lot like gaslighting.”

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t a man.”

She crosses her legs, setting her cup on the table. “Ha ha. You’re so funny.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. Leave that to me, will you?”

“You do realize you have a talent for dodging questions.”

“It’s part of the full package,” you say, standing up and grabbing your belongings. Lois shakes her head in your direction, blowing out her cheeks, and you decide to give in. “Look, I’m not a resentful person. This isn’t about that night. We don’t get along because we’re too… different.” You offer her your hand and smile when she takes it, helping her up. “He finds beauty in everything, doesn’t think twice before trusting someone. I’d never be able to do that.”

Lois drops the subject. On your way out, after dropping a generous tip into the glass jar by the register, you hold the door open for her.

“I could get used to this,” she says, and your mouth twitches, giving her a half-smile.

At the Daily Planet, you both head toward the elevators, and as Lois steps inside, Clark appears behind you, looking agitated.

“Hey,” he greets you, straightening his glasses with one hand and gesturing toward the elevator. “After you.”

The fucker.

You mimic his gesture. “No, please. After you.”

“I said it first.”

“Too bad.”

“Guys…” Lois tries without much luck.

Clark’s voice is still thick with sleep when he speaks. “Would you please be a darling and go first?”

“Tell you what,” you say, inching closer and toying with the end of his tie, inspecting the fabric. “Nothing would make me happier than walking in after you.”

You don’t know if you’ve exhausted him or if he just doesn’t want to be late, but he eventually sighs and steps inside. You position yourself beside Lois, and she ends up squeezed between the two of you.

“Morning, Lois,” Clark says.

“Morning, Clark,” she manages, stealing a glance at you. “You know, someone surprised me with coffee today.”

His mouth snaps shut, and he tugs at the sleeves of his suit. “That’s my thing.” He turns on his side, staring at you. “What’ll be your next move? Will you start wearing glasses as well? Just to make sure we match.”

“Oh, please. I’m not copying you.” The doors open and you’re first to exit, tipping your chin up. “It’s called being nice.”

“I am nice,” Clark blurts, trailing after you. “In fact, I’m nicer than you.”

“I wasn’t aware of this competitive side of yours.”

“Let’s just say I had time to think about it last night.”

“You thought about me before falling asleep?” You let out a feigned gasp. “That’s so cute!”

Jimmy appears in the frame to throw an arm around each of your shoulders. “I could hear your voices from the bathroom.”

You detach yourself from the two men, pointing your index finger at the shorter one. “I bought Lois coffee and let Clark go first in the elevator. Write that down on the board.”

“You basically forced me.”

“Drop it, Clark.”

Well, how about this way? I love that you get cold when it's seventy-one degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

You muffle a squeak against the cushion you’ve smashed to your face. You could watch When Harry Met Sally a hundred times, and a hundred times this scene would get you. You could quote it word for word, the moment he finally confesses his love for her.

And then they share a loving kiss. They live happily together after, as in all the rom-coms you like to revisit once in a while. You’re certain there must be tears shimmering in your eyes, for they sting just enough. The more you think about it, the more convinced you are that no one will ever love you like that.

It’s undeniable that this belief has turned you into a bitter individual. You used to have hope. You weren’t like this before, when you were younger. At least not a few years ago, when the idea of loving someone and being loved in return still seemed like a thing you could attain if you worked hard enough for it.

Adulthood, in your experience, has been plagued by hostility and disillusionment. Were it possible, you’d have a word with the you from ten years ago, the one who believed that by now she’d be in love and planning a future with a man worth her time.

But you’d only laugh at her in the same way that an adult laughs when an infant talks about unicorns and talking animals. Because she, or you, for that matter, probably doesn’t know you spend most of your nights alone. And since the news would make her cry, you’d also have to hug her.

The last time you attempted to open your heart to somebody else was a little over a year ago, and it didn’t turn out well.

The day you started working at the Daily Planet, since both of your eyes functioned perfectly, you developed an instant crush on Clark Kent. The real question, you thought, was who wouldn't? He was the most handsome man you'd ever seen, and still is to this day. Maybe that's the saddest part of the whole thing.

Your crush wasn’t just about his looks. You were drawn to his clumsiness, the cadence of his voice, and the way he’d ask if he could be of help. He’d buy you coffee first thing every morning without fail, back when you still accepted it. It would be steaming, and he'd always say, "Be careful. It's really hot." You thought you’d never grow tired of hearing those four simple words.

He made terrible jokes during lunch, and you were the only one who’d laugh, solely because he was the one telling them. If you struggled to navigate the newspaper’s website, he’d come up behind you, lean close, and explain each step patiently. His hand would find its place on your desk for balance, his warm breath would graze your skin, and you wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

There were even days when you pretended not to know how the printer worked. It was a treasure to have him that close, and Clark never questioned it. He was always there, and he’d never make you feel stupid for needing his help.

Around three months in, Lois started asking more questions about your personal life. “So… do you have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, no,” you said, downing what remained of your water bottle. “I’m single.”

“Great, because you know who else is single?” She made a short pause. “Clark.”

Her words of encouragement were the final push. You asked him out, and it was the most ungraceful ramble of your entire life. The memory still plays out in your head, a vivid reel of your voice shaking and your eyes fixed on the floor as you stumbled over each word.

It happened during one particular Thursday afternoon, while the two of you were standing by the printer. “I was thinking that tomorrow we could go out, just the two of us. If you want. I mean—if you’re not busy or—”

He gapes at you, his answer nearly written all over his face. At last, he smiles, and then says, “I’d really like that.”

You knew you'd spend the next twenty-four hours in a state of total anxiety. The world as you once knew it had changed for good. You used some of the money you were saving up to buy a dress you felt pretty in. In a moment of madness, you'd even used some of your savings to buy a dress you felt pretty in.

Ten minutes early for your reservation that Friday, you sat alone at the restaurant. You couldn't bring yourself to order, instead staring at your phone, terrified of the blank screen.

With every swing of the door, your heart tightened in your chest. Each new face that entered, you desperately hoped it would be Clark and not a stranger.

Fifteen minutes passed, which later bled into twenty, and then thirty agonizing minutes had gone by. There was a waitress, a girl perhaps younger than you, who kept circling by your table.

“Still waiting for someone?” she asked.

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed. “He should be here any minute now.”

At some point, your stomach had begun to rumble, and that was the exact moment you read his name on your phone, answering so fast you nearly dropped it. “Clark?”

The line crackled with static, and you could barely hear him over a tumultuous roar. “I’m so sorry,” he said, nearly shouting and sounding breathless on the other end of the line. “There’s this thing I have to take care of—I can’t—”

“Are you okay?” you asked, starting to worry. “Where are you?”

“I wish I could explain, but—” A sudden rush of air swallowed his words. “I won’t make it tonight.”

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, taking in the sea of couples laughing over dinner. “Okay. That’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.”

“I’m—” he began, but to your surprise, the sentence was cut short by the call ending.

Utterly defeated, you clutched your phone, observing as his name faded from your lock screen with every passing second. You remained seated for another five minutes, trying to conjure a believable excuse for the waitress before you left.

She ended up returning to your table. “Will you be ordering anything tonight?”

It seemed she didn't need much to grasp what had happened. When you got home, you peeled off the dress, folded it carefully, and put it back in the store bag. To keep from seeing it, you hid it under the couch, then collapsed onto the cushions, letting out a contained breath.

I should’ve stayed home, you told yourself. Your bed wouldn't have stood you up, neither would your couch or your phone. You opened social media, searching for a distraction, something simple, like videos of dogs trying to talk with their overreacting families.

What you found was starkly different from your initial vision. It was a video of Superman, flying high in the sky while holding a phone to his ear. Seconds later, the phone tragically slipped from his hand, plunging into a river below. The video had millions of views and had been posted less than an hour ago. The comment section was full of users drawing their own conclusions.

d1stalker: GET OFF THAT DAMN PHONE 😭how is he literally flying and talking at the same time? multitasking king

elysianymph: i’d love to know who he was talking to… a girl can only dream

dayapad: guys don’t worry IT WAS ME ON THE OTHER END 🥀 he’s safe now. just tucked him in and we’re about to watch a movie (i scream as they drag me back to my room in the asylum)

redgie-69: now he needs to do an ad por iphone or sth. superman get that bag !!!

Unable to stop yourself, you clicked the video again, pausing and rewinding it. The wind was a deafening roar in the background, and you couldn't make out half of what the bystanders were saying. With the line cutting and his phone falling into the river, the video's timestamp was a perfect match for the time he had called you.

Realization hit you like a freight train. Fuck. That was Clark. Clark was… Superman.

A whirlwind of feelings coexisted within you, but none was strong enough to snap you out of the trance you were in. You kept watching those fifteen seconds over and over again, replaying the memory of the call and his exact words.

There had always been something about him that was slightly off, and not precisely in a bad way. You'd always chalked it up to him being dorky and a little shy, traits you didn't mind in the slightest. But now, after that footage, you couldn't bring yourself to simply unsee it.

You recalled a specific incident that had taken place a few weeks ago. Jimmy, insisting Clark would be the perfect actor for a Superman biopic, had reached to pull off his glasses. With grace, Clark had swatted his hand away, claiming they were too fragile to be passed around like a toy.

You knew better, knew exactly why he reacted the way he did. And, God help you, did that make you like him even more?

That night, you sent him two text messages, having momentarily forgotten he wouldn’t be able to read them.

I think I understand why you didn’t show up tonight.

And shortly after:

I saw the video. You look good in blue.

By the time Monday came around, you’d already picked ‌all your nails. You arrived at the office earlier than usual, and his desk was still empty, but you kept checking the elevator every time it stopped at your floor.

He was nodding good morning at someone when you saw him, and you didn’t hesitate. You strode straight up to him, took his hand between yours, and whispered: “We need to talk.”

“Uh—hi?”

“Now.”

You led him down the hall and into the break room, closing the door behind you once the two of you were inside and turning the lock.

“Is everything—”

“You’re Superman,” you said, not even bothering to mince your words.

Clark looked like he’d seen a ghost, pure anxiety brewing in his eyes. You could imagine the gears turning in his head as he remained silent, lost in thought.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His gaze darted to every object in the room but you. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw the video, Clark. You called me while flying, and you dropped your phone midair.”

He was breathing differently now, as if he was attempting to calm himself.

“Does Jimmy know? Lois?”

That question made him look up. “No,” he said. “No one knows, except… well, you. I didn’t want you to find out this way.” His eyes bore into yours, his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m sorry I stood you up, but I heard this explosion on the east side, and I couldn’t ignore it.” Clark’s face reddened the more he said. “And then I dropped my phone. I went back for it later, but I couldn’t find it.”

Recognition settled over you at his words. “I’m not mad at you,” you assured him, giving a nod. The way his brows knitted burned a hole through your heart. “Would you maybe want to reschedule our date?”

The silence between you deepened, making your smile fade off of your face as the tension in the room thickened.

“I—I mean, if that’s something you still want,” he managed, the tone of his voice betraying him. “I don’t know if—I mean, I do want to, but—I wouldn’t want things to be complicated for you and me.”

Were you being friend-zoned? “Right.”

He runs a hand through his hair, getting more notoriously verbose by the minute. “It’s just that, now that you know, I don’t want to put you in danger. And I’m not sure it’d be fair to ask—”

“Okay,” you cut him short. “So what you're saying is that we should just leave it, then.”

“Wait—”

“We can just stay colleagues, if that’s easier.”

He seemed taken aback by your resoluteness. “Is that what you want?”

It wasn’t, but either way, you smiled. “Yes. That’d be better. We shouldn’t ruin what we have.”

You could’ve sworn he was just about to contradict you, but nothing came out of his mouth. Reaching for the door, you unlocked it, and he didn’t seem to be planning on following you. You cast him a glance over your shoulder before saying, “I promise I won’t say anything.”

Having fled the break room, you thought you might feel better, more professional even, but as you sat back down at your desk, your insides were turning into knots.

When Lois and Jimmy showed up beside you, eager for updates, you gave them a breathy laugh, which was meant to sound casual. “Guys, there wasn’t a date to begin with.”

“What?” Lois whispered harshly. “Why not?”

“He had to go to Kansas,” you explained, the lie feeling foreign on your tongue. “His parents needed him there, so he left Friday evening.”

“Is everything okay now?” Jimmy asked.

“Oh, yeah. It wasn’t a big deal. But we talked, and we agreed to stay friends. It’ll be for the best.”

Lois studied you a second longer than necessary, her gaze narrowing as if she could hear what you weren’t saying. You assured them both you were fine, that there was no drama between the two of you, and that this was the smartest, most mature decision you and Clark could’ve made. You just hoped they would believe you.

What shocked you the most was that he’d looked so nervous, maybe even more than usual. If he hadn’t wanted to go out with you, he could’ve just said so when you asked him out. But Clark, always the sweetheart, probably hadn’t wanted to hurt your feelings. It was funny, considering he’d managed that anyway.

Was it stupid to think he might’ve liked you back? Maybe you’d been seeing things that weren’t actually there. Maybe you’d overanalyzed every smile, every gentle gesture, every moment your world seemed to spin faster just because he was in the same room as you.

It made sense: someone who wants to be loved will look for it everywhere, even in places it doesn’t exist.

From that moment on, you stopped looking for his eyes when he walked past your desk. You declined his offers to grab you coffee because his gentleness felt like charity, and you wanted no part of it.

Back to the present. Enough of your sad memories. The credits of the movie are still rolling, but you shut the laptop, getting up and stretching. In the bathroom, you brush your teeth while staring at your reflection, and once you’re in bed, you pull the covers all the way up to your chest.

You’re choosing the fantasy you’ll think about tonight to fall asleep when you hear the rhythmic sound of your neighbor’s headboard rocking against the wall.

You’d run into her in the elevator earlier today, and she’d mentioned her long-distance boyfriend was coming over for the week. You hear her laugh, then his, alongside other noises you won’t try to dissect.

The walls in this building are paper-thin, and on any other occasion, you would’ve grabbed the first thing within reach to knock on the wall. But you won’t do that tonight, not because you can’t, but because you don’t want to. You stare at the ceiling, thinking they deserve these kinds of moments after being apart for so long.

Plus, it’s only a week. Just because you’re not getting laid doesn’t mean the rest of the world should stop having sex out of pity, so you turn onto your side, pull the covers up over your ear, and decide to sleep. It turns out that kindness can also sound like silence.

It’s been two weeks since the bet started, and you’ve come to discover that complimenting people is a good way to earn points, especially if you deliver them in public for everyone to hear.

“Lois, I love your blazer,” you say as she walks past your desk one morning.

She stops mid-stride, smiling at you. “Thank you. It’s thrifted.”

You’ve also made a habit of stapling Jimmy’s copies before he gets to them. “I think somebody wants to win,” he notes, watching you finish his stack.

“You would too if interviewing Superman was on the line.”

“Well, you better keep it up, because you’re still behind.”

Safe to say you take that personally. Later that day, Lois gives you a point when she catches you holding the door open for nearly ten people in a row. Clark earns another when he finds someone’s missing phone after searching for fifteen straight minutes.

Just to be clear, you were also looking for it. He just happened to be the one who found it first. But yes, you’ve been trying lately, and Clark notices.

Though today you’re moving more slowly because of a headache that has settled behind your eyes. You spend most of the morning at your desk, head bent while typing out emails, but you’re forced to look up when a cup of coffee lands beside your keyboard.

Your first instinct is to say no. Politely, of course, because of the bet. You haven’t accepted anything from him in a long time.

He places something else down: an aspirin. “It’s 2025. We have advanced medicine to ease your suffering.”

“Are you that desperate to win?” you ask, resting your chin on your palm.

Clark snorts. “What would you like my answer to be?”

You drop the subject, accepting both things and picking up the coffee. “If I kindly take this coffee, would that earn me a point?”

“That wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

“Half a point?”

“We’ve got a deal.” You take a trial sip, tasting its flavor and muffling a satisfied sound. “God, it’s really good. Thanks. How much was it?”

He shakes his head. “Forget about it.”

“Hey, no. I want to pay you for it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can hear you,” he says, walking backwards and away from you.

“Asshole.”

“What did you just say?”

“That you look nice today,” you admit instead, folding your hands on your lap. “I like your shirt.”

It’s a plain one, honestly. Nothing special, but it still looks good on him. He glances down at his clothes, the corners of his mouth lifting. “How nice of you to say that. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

So apparently, you and Clark are starting to get along.

It’s easier if you hide behind the bet, because you can be decent to each other while racking up points. What’s so bad about it? Yet you can’t ignore the fact that you kind of enjoy being like this with him, despite the whole challenge finishing in less than two weeks.

Clark: Don’t forget Jimmy’s birthday tomorrow.

You groan around a mouthful of apple, cursing your poor memory

You: Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Clark: I knew it. See, I’m that nice. I could’ve chosen not to tell you.

You: That would’ve made you a prick

Clark: You’re right, but now owe me one.

You: I could bake him a cake… or cupcakes??? Idk

Clark: I’d go with the cake. Just imagine Lois and Jimmy giving you ten points for it.

Pressing your thumb against your mouth, you gnaw at it, holding your breath as you type a message.

You: We can make it five and five if you help me

You put your phone down, covering it with a cushion, but the moment it buzzes again, you snatch it back.

Clark: Sounds fair, though I’ve never baked anything from scratch before.

You: I’ve got the perfect recipe

Clark: Are we having dinner as well? I could bring some takeout.

You can’t help but re-read that text too many times.

You: Sure, whatever you want

Clark: Chinese?

You: Yuppp but please hurry up because I’m starving

He asks for your address, and twenty minutes later, he’s knocking at your door, a plastic takeout bag swinging from one hand. He loosens his tie the moment he’s inside, shrugging off his coat and rolling up his sleeves

“So…,” he trails off, pacing around the living room, “you’re in charge tonight.”

You suggest eating first, otherwise, the food will go cold. While you set the table, Clark turns on the TV and lets it run in the background. As expected, you mostly talk about work. Does this count as a date? You’re not sure.

The first thing you ask him to do is to preheat the oven, and he obeys without a word. Your kitchen isn’t big enough for two people, and if anything, Clark’s towering height only makes it more difficult. His elbows constantly bump yours, and he apologizes every single time.

While you handle the measuring of ingredients, he takes the whisk. It seems the Man of Steel has no coordination when it comes to baking. He’s hyper-focused on not pouring the whole bottle of vanilla extract, tongue peeking out slightly as he pours. You can’t resist the temptation, so you give in to it and blow a puff of flour into his face.

His right profile is now covered in white, and he blinks rapidly, nudging his face against his shoulder. “It got in my eye.”

“It didn’t. I’m right here, remember?”

Wide-eyed and frozen in place, Clark stares at your head. “What’s that on your hair?”

“There’s nothing on my—”

He dips his fingers into the flour bag while you aren’t looking and flicks a pinch at you. A malicious laugh bubbles in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, frowning and crossing your arms.

“Now we’re even,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Afterward, you pour the liquid batter into a prepared pan, smoothing the top. You put it into the oven, finding Clark scraping the bowl with a spoon, licking it with pure contentment and savoring the remnants. There’s a small dot of batter near the edge of his mouth, which he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Clark, there’s—” You point to your own mouth, hoping he’ll mimic you.

But he doesn’t get the hint, putting down the bowl instead. “What?”

You sigh, taking a step toward him and wiping your thumb across the corner of his plump lips. He stops breathing in that moment, and so do you. You clean your finger on the edge of a dirty kitchen towel, then ask, “Can you wipe the counter while I make the frosting?”

He looks astonished. “I can—Sure. I’ll do it.”

Neither of you utters another word for a couple of minutes, focusing on your respective tasks. After testing that the cake was done, you take it out of the oven, unmolding it onto a rack to cool.

Clark plops down on the couch, covering his eyes with his forearm. “We can’t decorate it yet, right?”

“No. We have to wait, or the frosting will melt.”

“I’m so tired,” Clark says, yawning, and then his contagious yawn makes you do the same.

“I didn’t realize it was this late.” You sit on the opposite side of the couch, unlocking your phone. “I’ll put an alarm. We can take a twenty-minute nap, and then we finish it.”

His eyelids are already drooping, and he murmurs, “Just twenty minutes.”

You struggle to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. Normally, you’d stretch out fully, but now you can’t, and you blame the giant sitting next to you. By the time you drift off, you swear you can hear him snoring just a little.

The alarm went off twenty minutes later, but neither of you stirred. You only woke up to switch sides, blocking the intrusive light from the curtains. Your eyes opened just long enough to see Clark, still in the same position as before, his mouth slightly parted and his hair a beautiful mess.

The cake.

“Clark!” You bolt upright, almost jumping to your feet. You touched his shoulder, shaking him. “Wake up. We overslept.”

He rubs his eyes, huffing. “What time is it?”

“We have… twenty minutes before we need to leave.”

Both of you get to work. Clark retrieves the frosting from the fridge and tries to help you spread it on the cake, but it ends up looking less like a smooth layer and more like a lumpy hill.

“Oh, God. I hope the cake isn’t dry.”

“It looks good,” he says, admiring it from a distance. “At least from here.”

You melt some dark chocolate in the microwave. It’s surprisingly thick, and you grab a fork, trying to write Happy Birthday Jimmy across the top. The letters are wobbly and melted into one another, but it’s the thought that counts. You grab the single birthday candle you always saved for such occasions, placing it in the center.

Clark hovers just behind your shoulder. “It’s… definitely abstract.”

You glance down at your clothes from the night before, realizing you didn’t even get a chance to shower. “Shit. Do I smell?”

His expression softens, his gaze landing on your head. “You don’t, but you still have flour on your hair.” He brushes his fingers through your hair with the delicacy you’d expect from a man like him.

The pad of his thumb grazes your hairline, and your breath catches in your chest. He pulls back abruptly, grasping what he’s doing a second too late. “There you go.”

Scrambling to get ready, you transfer the cake to a cardboard pastry box, securing it. “Okay, subway. Now.”

As Clark and you rush through the station, you clasp the cake box in your hands. The platform’s already crowded with people. You steal a quick glance at Clark, catching the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I asked you if you had a boyfriend like, ten times, and you always said no.”

It’s a pity you recognize that voice. Matthew appears at your side, glaring at Clark, his eyes darting from him to you. The look on his face is one of total disappointment.

“He’s not—”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Clark asks, subtly stepping forward to angle his body between the two of you.

“Matt.” He extends his hand in offering, but Clark silently refuses to take it, staring at him. “I just—sorry, dude. I had no idea she was taken.”

You wave your hand at them. “Hello. I’m right here.”

“Honey, you’ve never mentioned him before,” Clark says, draping his arm around your shoulders.

How smooth. “Well, honey, I must’ve forgotten,” you rejoice, leaning into his solid frame, playing the part of the loving girlfriend.

The screeching noise of the train marks the end of that conversation as the doors slide open. Just before the rush of people floods the car, Clark grabs your hand, tugging you inside, and Matthew’s left standing behind on the platform.

Even after finding two empty seats, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and neither do you.

“May I ask who that guy was?” His eyes gloss over the cake box above your legs.

“A not-so-secret admirer. He’s asked me out a few times, but hasn’t had much luck.”

“He seems persistent.”

“Trust me. He is.”

“I hope you don’t mind what I did back there,” he says, lowering his voice. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“It helped.” You squeeze his hand before gently dropping it. “Thank you.”

You make it to the office just before nine, taking the stairs because the elevator’s far too packed. Now it’s Clark’s turn to carry the cake, and he trails after you with precise steps.

To say Jimmy’s thrilled at the surprise would be an understatement. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he opens the box. “Holy crap! You baked this?”

“Yes,” you both say at once.

“I love it so much!” He takes the cake out of the box, looking at it from a different angle. “Can someone please take a picture of me with it? I feel like I’ve just met my firstborn.”

Lois materializes out of nowhere, trying to analyze the situation. “Why are you two wearing the same clothes from yesterday?” She lets a beat slide, then adds: “And why did you arrive together?”

“Well—the thing is—”

“It’s a long story,” Clark jumps in.

“But we have all the time in the world,” Lois shoots back.

And that’s how you know you’re trapped.

Only a week before the bet ends. There’s a guy with too much gel in his hair lingering a few feet from your desk. You’ve seen him around. He’s one of the new hires who writes for the newspaper’s column on culture and arts.

You’ve been expecting him to approach you for ten minutes now. When he finally does it, you see a confident smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I’m Ethan,” he introduces himself, cocking his head.

“Nice to meet you, Ethan. I’m—”

“I know,” he interrupts you, squinting a little as if he’s embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. “Okay, that sounded weird, but what I meant is that I know your name.” he wraps his arms around himself, taking a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink sometime.”

That’s not what you expected. He’s a handsome guy, charming even, but—

This is the kindness challenge, and you're supposed to be all friendly and polite, at least for another full week.

You plaster a practiced smile on your face. “Sure. Why not?”

He asks for your number, and you rattle it off in a monotonous tone. As he heads off, you catch Clark in the distance across the bullpen, sitting at his desk. He must have used his super hearing because he doesn't tear his gaze away from yours, and you feel as if all the oxygen in the world has been sucked out of the building.

Hours later, you’re in the break room, pouring coffee into your favorite mug, the one with a tiny kitten curled on the front. Clark walks in, closing the door behind him after he sees there’s no one else there.

“You want some coffee?” You ask him while stirring your coffee.

He stays quiet for ages. “What’s the deal with that new guy?”

“You mean Ethan?”

“We’re using names now.”

“He asked me out,” you continue to explain, lifting the mug to your lips. “And I said yes.”

“Why?”

“It's just a drink, Clark. I’m being nice. That’s the whole point, remember?”

“I had no idea being kind involved bar hopping with strangers.”

Why is he acting like this? “Jealousy doesn’t look great on you.”

“I’m not jealous. I just—” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “You don’t know him. Nobody does.”

“He seems nice.”

“Everybody seems nice if you only exchange two words with them!”

You grind your jaw. “Why are you assuming the worst? Why does the idea of me going out with someone bother you so much?”

Clark doesn't answer immediately. “You can do whatever you want,” he says, his tone shifting to a pained one. “I'm just asking you to be careful.”

“You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Pride claims a full point from both of you.

You’re nodding along to another of Ethan’s stories from his college days, your eyes fixed on the rim of your glass.

It’s not that he’s boring, but for some reason, you’re unable to pay attention to anything he says. He’s talking about some phenomenal frat party he attended during senior year, which you can’t even relate to, because you’d never liked them.

He gulps down his drink, grinning. “I’m not letting you speak, am I?”

“Well—”

“Tell me something about yourself.”

You take a look around the bar, which is dim and cozy. The bartender hasn’t stopped mixing cocktails behind the counter. You shift your attention back to Ethan, lifting your eyebrows. “I’m currently stuck in a kindness challenge at work.”

You can’t blame him for seeming confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lois and Jimmy had this brilliant idea that Clark and I should compete to see who’s nicer. He’s the guy with—”

“The glasses, I know. You’ve already mentioned him.” Ethan rolls his eyes, sighing at the same time a forced smile flashes across his face.

You can tell he’s bothered. Have you really been talking about Clark this much on a date with someone else? “Sorry.”

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand, waving it off. “And how’s the bet going?”

What an awfully complex question. You toy with the straw you were given with your drink, pressing your lips together. “Pretty much okay. We baked a cake last week.”

He chuckles. “You know what’s funny? I thought you two were dating at first.”

You tear your eyes away from the straw. “What?”

“I’d see you together all the time,” he says with a shrug, resting an arm on the back of the booth. “Then someone told me you hated him or something, and I had to shoot my shot.”

You hear him laugh, and he must expect you to do the same, but you don’t. “Hate him?” you echo his words. “I don’t hate him. Who said that?”

“I… don’t remember now. Does it matter?”

“Well, of course it does. Your source is wrong.”

“Yeah. I figured that around the fifth time you found a way to bring him up tonight.”

In a rare moment of clarity, a stark contrast to the bar's dark interior, you look down at your hands. Shutting your eyes, and behind closed lids, you can only picture the face of a man who isn’t here, who isn’t the one sitting across from you.

This isn’t where you’re supposed to be.

Pushing back your chair, you reach for your purse. “This won’t work,” you murmur, putting on your jacket. “You’re a nice guy, really. You’re not the problem. I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

Even though he calls your name as you make your way to the door, you don’t go back. Outside, driven by instinct, you fumble for your phone in your pocket. Since you’ve never felt this determined before in your life, you decide to call Clark.

It rings twice before he picks up, and when he does, his voice sounds groggy. “Hello?”

“Were you sleeping?”

“Sort of.”

You throw your head back, giving yourself a face palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Clark assures you, the rustle of sheets reverberating through the line. He must be tossing around in bed, given the hour. “Is everything alright?”

For a moment, pressure wells in your chest. You glance both ways down the street, half-expecting to stumble into him. “I just wanted to say something.” You exhale, pressing the phone further into your ear, as if you could merge it with your skin. “I don’t hate you.”

He offers no immediate response. After a while, he says, “What?”

“I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I needed you to know it.” Each of your words feels thick in your mouth, heavy like sand. “I wouldn’t be able to hate you.”

Judging by the background noise on his end, you guess he must be out of bed and pacing now. “I don’t hate you either.”

“It’s not the same. I already knew it.”

“Right,” he laughs, and the sound fills the line. You can almost imagine the dimples in his cheeks. “Wasn’t your date today? How did it go?”

 “Let’s just say there’s a section of the bullpen I’m not allowed into anymore.”

“Oh. That bad?”

“He said I talked a lot about you, so you tell me.”

The last time you two spoke in person, you had stormed out of the break room. He’d sounded jealous, a fact he fiercely denied, and his attitude had finally gotten to you. Maybe it was that time of year when you got a bit paranoid, but the thought hit you: you could die at any minute. Living in a city full of unknown threats and creatures, were you seriously going to spend the rest of your life keeping everything bottled up?

Yet, as if reading your very thoughts, he asks: “Would you like to come over?”

“Like… now?”

“Right now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You hail the first cab you find on the streets of this Saturday night, counting down the minutes until you arrive at his apartment.

Fifth floor. Apartment C. Clark opens the door to you, and the mere sight of him steals your breath. He isn’t wearing his glasses. A pair of gray sweatpants sits low on his hips, along with a navy blue shirt stretched across his chest.

The only thing you can bring yourself to say is: “Hi.”

He invites you in. You hear the door clicking shut behind you as you put down your purse, turning around to face him. You clear your throat, staring deep into his eyes, and you notice he still hasn’t said a word.

“I spent almost ten minutes thinking about what to say to you. I even came up with what I thought was a great speech. It made sense in my head, but I can’t… remember it now,” you explain, swallowing the lump in your throat. You’re nervous, so freaking nervous you feel dizzy. Has he always been this tall?

“You don’t need a big speech,” Clark says, inching forward.

“I wanted to give you one, like they do in movies.”

“Then, just—come up with one right now.”

As if it were that easy. You press your hands to your face for a moment, imploring some god above for the courage you so desperately needed.

It doesn’t have to be well-structured. Doesn’t have to have perfect grammar. It just has to come from the heart and be true, and you couldn’t be more certain of what you feel for him.

“I would’ve dated you, you know? Even after finding out about the whole Superman thing, I would’ve risked everything, because it didn’t change the way I felt about you. It hasn’t changed it. I feel the same I did yesterday, and the day before that, and a year ago,” you blurt, edging closer to him. “I can’t imagine existing in a world where I’m not madly in love with you.”

You can't read the look on his face. His shoulders are rigid, his gaze giving nothing away as he studies you, and you find yourself wondering what exactly he’s thinking.

“I’ve tried putting it all behind me. I’ve tried starting over. For God’s sake, I went on a date with a man I didn’t even like! Just because you looked so… frustrated about it, and I thought maybe it was worth it.”

The past month’s blur of events rewinds in your mind. Your feelings, which you had tried to quiet and smother for so long, have come roaring back to life stronger than ever. You believe this must be love: that force you can try to extinguish and contain, but one that always burns through, because it is as real as the blood in your veins and the bones in your body.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m not dying to kiss you every time I see you at work. I feel like I’m in hell whenever you’re near me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t let you go, Clark. I don’t want to, but I swear I’d make the effort if you asked me to. I’d try, just for you.”

All the cards, including the ones you were keeping to yourself, have been laid out. You yearn for Clark Kent. You need him in your life, in any way he’s willing to offer himself, with those eyes of his that now look at you like you’ve gone nuts.

You’ve learned that there will always be something wrong. That’s how things work, at least for the alive-and-kicking ones. And you know for a fact that love won’t save you. Clark’s love, in this case, won’t assure you anything. But you’d much rather navigate those complexities with him by your side.

A flush creeps up his face, and he inclines his face. “I’d never ask you to walk away from me. Understanding you has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to endure, which sounds absurd considering we speak the same language,” he says, and you can’t help but let out a laugh at that. “I mean it, and not just as Clark, but also as Superman.”

“You’re saying I’m hard to understand?”

“I’m saying that there’s so much you don’t say. I have to translate every look and sigh. I believe I’ve developed a whole new dialect just to make sense of you—”

“I feel like you’re using this as an opportunity to roast me.”

“—but loving you is the easy part, and you don’t even realize it.”

Your heart hammers unpleasantly inside your chest. “Clark, I thought you wanted us to stay friends.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“But you said it. Kind of,” you argue, your forehead creasing.

He holds out his arms, stifling his laughter. “You didn’t let me explain! I panicked. I didn’t know what to say. You know how I get when I’m nervous.”

You’re left standing there, beyond stunned. “So this whole time… we could’ve been together?” You make a brief pause, falling silent. “I was so mad at you. So fucking—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Clark takes hold of your chin, angling your head backwards so your eyes peer directly into his. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Complaining about the past. We’re here now. We can make it up to each other.”

You sigh, and he hunches over to rest his forehead against yours. His stare carries so much, but you can’t look away. “I think I remembered my speech.”

“We’ve already moved past that.”

“I could still deliver it—”

You’re cut off by Clark’s mouth on yours. He kisses you with the intensity of a starved man, and you freeze, caught off guard and barely moving your lips, until he guides your arms around his neck, and that’s when your body catches up. His own hands find their sacred place on your waist, clutching the fabric of your sweater.

This is the aftermath of months of pent up-frustration. His tongue presses insistently against yours to seek entry. Ever so gently, he corners you against the nearest wall, and your head nudges a frame that ends up clattering to the floor. It’s not enough to get Clark off of you. He shoves it aside with his shoe, further pressing you into the wall.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he gasps between kisses, holding your cheeks as his nose bumps into yours.

“We won’t,” you say, dizzy from all the kissing. “I promise.”

It turns out that his lips can’t seem to leave yours for long. “And please don’t go on any more dates with new hires.”

You roll your eyes, running your fingers through the short hair at his nape. “I told you it went horribly.”

“Still.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Your mouth crushes onto his once again, your pulse quickening with every second his hands are on you. You then whisper against his lips, “It’s always been you. You can stop worrying about other men.”

He blows out his cheeks, shaking his head. “Golly, this isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“I just—love you so much,” he mumbles, pecking your lips, “and you’re so beautiful, and there’s so much I want to do with you. I want to do everything—”

“We’ll take our time.”

“I know, I know.” He grazes the skin of your neck as he pulls you in for another kiss. “But touching you, kissing you… it feels too good to be true.”

A small chuckle escapes you, and you caress his cheek. “Alright, Romeo. You’ve done enough talking.”

When you come back to your senses, he’s got you all sprawled across the couch, his touch insistent yet careful. You’re struggling to remain still the more acquainted he becomes with your body. He digs his fingers into your waist, your hips, the sides of your thighs, leaving a trail of all the places where he’s been.

He’s kissing down your jawline the moment your mind conjures up an important question. “Clark?”

“Tell me.”

“Let’s say that, hypothetically, I spend the night here.”

“…Hypothetically.”

“Exactly. Would you have a spare toothbrush in that case?”

He lifts his head from your neck, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “You’re marking territory.”

“Hey. I said hypothetically. And I care about dental hygiene.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, your head squeezed between his forearms. He ducks down to kiss you. “I do have a spare toothbrush. Don’t worry about that.”

You resume the make-out session after that. You sink deeper into the cushions as he shoves your sweater further up your chest, just enough to ghost his fingertips along your bra, eliciting a choked whimper out of you. The sound seems to spur him on because he pulls off his own shirt, allowing you to get a better look at his stomach.

The words die on your lips, and you draw a pattern over his pecks, then up to his biceps, ending in the happy trail that leads to what remains hidden beneath the tent on his sweatpants.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he breathes, pining your hand above your head. “I thought you were the one who said to take our time.”

“I’m gonna combust and you haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you admit, gaping at his lips as he hovers over you, teasing you. “Imagine the state I’m in.”

That makes him smirk, and he slides a thick thigh between your parted legs, pressing it to your center. You throw your head back, cursing. “You like that?”

You nod, watching him through hooded eyes. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck, Clark. Do something. I need—”

Upon the coffee table next to the couch, your phone starts ringing, and Uptown Girl by Billy Joel fills the living room.

The spell breaks, and you hide your face into the crook of his neck. “I hate my life.”

“Ignore it.”

“I can’t. I know who it is,” you say, reaching your arm without looking. Eventually, you drag the phone out of the purse, and show the screen to him. “It’s Lois. She must be calling to ask how the date went.”

“Text her instead.”

“Clark, I can’t—just don’t make a sound, okay? I have to take this, or else she’ll keep calling.”

You accept the call without noticing your voice has gone up an octave. “Hi!”

“Hey! You didn’t text me about the date, so I figured I’d just call you.”

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten.” You gulp down as he rolls your sweater over your head in one swift motion, and you slap his shoulder when he almost makes you drop your phone. “It was… average.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“We didn’t have much in common,” you continue, drifting your attention to the ceiling to try and stay composed. “He was—oh.”

Clark’s kisses have now migrated to your chest, his fingers sneaking beneath your back to unclasp your bra. He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes hold of your breasts in his hands, and you squirm under him.

Lois’ voice breaks through, sounding distant. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. I’m here, sorry. We didn’t even talk that much. I left quite early.” You mouth a ‘stop’ to him, holding the phone away from your ear, but he just smiles at you.

“Dammit, that sucks. Are you home now?”

“I was—Clark!” You yelp as he closes his mouth around your right nipple, scraping his teeth against the hardened peak. He looks at you with a horrified expression, and your whole frame stiffens.

“…Clark?” Lois repeats, and she gasps. “Are you—is Clark there? CLARK KENT?”

“IhavetogoI’msosorrybyeloveyouuuuu,” you push out the words quickly in one breath before hanging up, dropping the phone to the floor. “You’re a prick. What the hell was that?”

“I’d put it into silence mode if I were you.”

“That wasn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair is that you’re still wearing clothes.” He sits on his knees to unbutton your pants and yank them to your ankles, his eyes dark with want. Then he does the same to his own, until all that’s left are your underwear and the hardness confined inside his briefs, which presses against you the moment he leans down.

You begin kissing him as he lays on top of you, holding himself up on his forearms so as not to crush you with his weight.

“When did you become a horny teenager?” you ask, biting back a moan as he aligns himself with you, both of you still clothed. You know there must be a damp spot on your panties at this point from how wet you are.

“Always been one around you,” he replies huskily, slipping his hands under your thighs to tug you even closer. As he grinds his hips into yours, his jaw clenches, his breath damp against your skin. “Can I—is this alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You shift to give him more space between your legs. “It’s nice.”

The temperature in the room is borderline unbearable. Clark rocks into you in earnest, muttering sounds next to your ear. Some you catch, but some are so low that they are swallowed by the way he murmurs your name.

“I feel stupid doing this,” he grits out, pressing his lips to yours, his brows knitting. “I wish I could do more for you, but—I can’t. I need this. You feel—”

Shushing him, you roll your hips up to meet his mid thrust just right, whimpering when his tip catches against your entrance through the sticky fabric. He shivers, making a strangled noise.

“Oh, God—”

“Clark—”

“I swear—”

You cut him off with a kiss, sucking on his tongue. “Do you want to be inside me?”

He’s panting against your mouth, pupils blown. “What?”

“You heard me.”

He flattens his palms on the back of your thighs, his fingernails scraping gently. “I mean, of course I—yes, I’d love that,” he says, laying heavy stress on the ‘love’ part. “But I’d like to make you come like this first.”

A grin curls your lips. “Great. We’ve got four days until the bet’s done. Each orgasm equals ten points.”

That night, you have sex with Clark Kent for the first time, and it’s the best sex of your life.

He earns forty points in the span of an hour and a half.

The day the challenge started, the sky was falling apart, rain had laughed in your face, soaking you from head to toes, and Clark had offered you a spare umbrella, which you declined.

But today, four weeks later, the sun couldn’t be shining brighter, you get to work right on time, and Clark brings you coffee and a pastry for breakfast at the office.

You’re in the break room. He drags a chair across the floorboards so that he can sit next to you. Neither of you are working, though after a month of constant fighting, a short period of ten minutes of peace feels like the real prize after all.

The memories from that first day feel almost laughable now in your mind.

I was just thinking out loud, Kent. I can’t wrap my head around someone acting like they’re on stage all the damn time.

You really think I wake up every day and put on an act?

I don’t know, you tell me. I wonder if your modest decency will ever run out.

Maybe if you tried being decent for more than five minutes, you’d see it’s not an act. It’s only called being nice.

Glancing to your side, you find him scrolling through something on his phone. There’s a slight crease between his brows as he reads, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You smile before you can stop yourself.

He must feel your attention on him because he catches you staring. A smile spreads across his face too. “What’s got you like this?”

You shake your head, feeling the rising to your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. “I was just… thinking.”

Across the room, Jimmy and Lois hover protectively over the whiteboard where they’ve kept track of every good deed you’ve performed. She attempts to speak, but he shushes her, looking at the two of you over his shoulder.

“Did you two do this on purpose?” he asks, capping his marker, and neither of you know what he’s talking about. It’s only then that Lois and him step aside to reveal the final score.

You lean forward, scrutinizing the numbers on the board. “We’re… even?”

Pursing his lips, Jimmy runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this. There was supposed to be one winner, as in any other game.”

You raise your hands. “Clark should win. He's been preparing for this his whole life.”

“I’m sorry, but no,” he objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “You did some really nice things for the sake of the challenge. You deserve it more than me.”

“But you—”

“She wins!” Clark concludes, standing up to clap for you, encouraging Lois and Jimmy to do the same.

After the round of applause is over, you take a bow, wiping imaginary tears from under your eyes. “I never thought this could actually happen,” you say, glaring at Clark. “My partner in crime, you made this possible.”

“We’ve created a monster,” Jimmy whispers, loud enough for you to hear it, and tugs on Lois’ sleeve. “Alright. Now I feel uncomfortable.”

“You two… are disgustingly… cute!” she chirps, being dragged outside the room.

Arms clasped behind his back, Clark puffs out his chest, looming closer. Behind his glasses, his eyes flicker with mischief. “Congratulations. You can have that exclusive interview with Superman anytime you want.”

“So I finally get to meet him? What an honor.”

“Does tonight work for you? At my place. He told me he’s dying to have a word with you.”

“I see.” You twist his tie around your fingers. “Will you be there?”

“Of course. I’m the mediator.”

Before he can say anything else, you pull him forward by the tie, kissing him. He cradles your face in his big hands, his nose brushing yours lovingly as he trips over his own feet to close the door. You warn him about someone eventually walking in, but he just answers, “We can make it quick.”

To be fair, you like this new version of yourself, the one who’s been making an effort to be nicer.

The one who’s irremediably in love with Clark.

dividers by: @bbyg4rlhelps <3

[coconutdays]

BAD BOY DOWN!

s. on one of your usual days at work as an art seller for a luxury agency, a cocky and devilishly handsome sukuna meets your acquaintance, sparking a feeling you just can't ignore and neither can he.

w.c. 11.7k

w. fem! reader, mafia!sukuna! x reader , strangers to lovers! fluff!, smut! barely there angst! ermmm mentions of murder and crime? errr he eats your ass a little hehe because of how down bad he is

a/n: im feral for the thought of mafia sukuna. hope ya'll enjoy, as always it's not well enough proofread but ill do it as I reread it and catch the off stuff. hehe I really liked this and might want to write more instances of him. (also creds to the artist of this art of him! I did not make it or own it!)

"do you need help ma'am?"

there's a hobbling elderly lady struggling to walk across the street, what with the slightly heavy bag of vegetables she's trying to haul with her and her cane in her other hand.

she looks slightly ashamed that someone's offering help, probably the reminder that she's a bit dependent on others now. but when she looks up to make eye contact with you, wide young eyes in worry that only a grandchild could carry, her gaze softens and she bashfully hands you her brown paper bag.

she giggles a little when you carry it on your hip and have one careful hand out in case she needs extra physical help on the walk across.

when you finally cross the street, she motions for you to give the bag back, textured small hands opening and closing in your direction. you lean back a little with the bag in your arms, not thinking it a problem to accompany her further, you didn't have to go work for at least forty more minutes.

"I live right here." she smiles, hoarse voice happy when she lightly juts her head to the doors to an apartment building right next to you.

"oh," you sigh and hand the bag to her, slightly embarrassed that you kept her groceries from her, "I can still open the door for-"

"the doorman can do that." she fwips her hand

then she stares at you, her crows feet pronounced as she grins at you.

"pretty pretty girl." she says warmly, reaching a hand up to softly pat your cheek.

you're at work later after helping that lady cross the street, warm feeling bubbling in your body at the compliment and caress she gave you.

you sell and manage art for an exclusive agency/musuem. and today you so happen to have a large silent auctioning event for some pieces from the heian era. not your preferred range, but hey there's a lot of people here now that are willing to pay a lot for some of them.

it's also a great networking event for artists of the agency too, wandering around and hoping someone as rich as the Medici's can keep them as a little pet.

you've done your more than fair share of repeating the same monologue and facts over the pieces to some clients when you wander and head over to one of the art pieces on the wall. it wasn't part of the auction, but it was your favorite here at the museum, perfectly distanced enough from the crowd so that you wouldn't have to really interact with anyone before you went back to working.

you wish you could afford it

the paycheck plus commission from working at a prestigious place like this was hefty, but not that much for a luxury like that.

it's none of that abstract emotion crap.

yes you know everything could be art, but hey you have preferences.

it reminded you a lot of Monet, so pretty and elegant. it was even more disheartening when it had two sister pieces from the same line by the artist too. the only three from that artist that had such a magical heart to it.

"this not part of the auction is it?" a gruff voice speaks

now, you don't like judging people based on their looks. you're a very liberal person. some artists and uptight rich people that shop here wear and decorate themselves in the most peculiar way, but you're slightly taken aback at this man.

he has these lined tattoos on his face.

face tattoos. and you're NOT judging, but it's just not a casual thing to see. you don't mind tattoos, but nobody really tattoos their face unless it's for cultural reason, they're involved in the wrong circles, or just kinda dumb.

he looks far from dumb though.

he's very handsome actually.

"n-no," you answer quickly once you realize you've taken a little too long to answer him. nonetheless, you quickly regain your posture and stick your hands behind your back, he's a customer either way, you have to do your job.

you enter customer service mode and reach a hand to motion towards the pieces for auction, "but the heian pieces we have are right over there, I can tell you-"

"I already placed my offers earlier," he does a slight tch with his mouth, a personality tick of his probably, and he stands still where he is, still looking at the painting in front of you.

"that's good to hear," you gulp, caught off guard by how dense his presence is, "we have a similar collection coming in-"

"you really like this one?" he completely ignores you and juts his chin towards the painting, looking at your for a few seconds before looking back at the painting.

and those few seconds were so blissful.

his eyes are really pretty, they're an intense red, but you felt enraptured being held in his gaze.

"I do." you breathe, nervously shifting so that you can look at him and the painting at the same time.

"I was in a gang when I was younger," he says curtly, so freely aired to you

your jaw drops a little and you're confused as to why he would-

he peers over at you a little from his spot towering over you, an eyebrow slightly raised at you in a sort of knowing.

"the tattoos, they're from before."

"oh! I wasn't! no! it's not-"

"you go out makin friends with face tattoo guys?"

and again he has you speechless, mouth opening and closing to say something

"you'd be stupid if you did." he does that small tch again, looking over at the painting again, "shit's not normal."

"I don't." you regain some confidence, bashing yourself in the head wondering where the yapster in you went.

"good." he gruffs

"how much this worth anyway?" he seems a little unimpressed by it when he points his jaw towards it

"150,000." you chirp, gazing at the painting again with appreciation.

when you look at him, he looks slightly confused and disgusted by the price. and you know its just because he really doesn't like it a lot, its a girly painting and he's well...

he's got a sharp undercut, dirty pink hair spiked back. there's black studs on his ears, the obvious face tattoos and probably more beneath the dark black suit he's wearing, which is nicely tailored because you can make out his beefy lean build through it.

but you figure he's probably spending the same if not more on those heian artifacts if he's here.

"everyone has different taste," you shrug, "I'm not really a fan of the heian stuff."

he hangs his head when he looks down at you, almost a bit sassy?

"I know. never seen a pretty face look so empty talking about a thousand year old tapestry."

when did he see you explaining the pieces? how'd you miss him in the crowd? oh no, you internally groan, if he could tell then so could everybody else-

"nobody cares that much," he says, fully turned to you now, tilting his head when he sees just how panicked you look, almost as if he can tell what's on your mind, "the riffraff here only care about playing their ballbusting competition between each other."

"and you're here because?" feeling your heartbeat stabilize at his weird reassurance

"I like it and I can afford it"

another tch.

you're starting to really like that habit of his

wait, how can he afford it? what does he work in? as far as you know getting a high paying job with visible face tattoos is well, kinda close to impossible unless you're some rap artists or in the mafia...

one of your eyebrows is softly quirked up and you're about to open your mouth, but he beats you to it.

"you let everyone read your face this well?" he cocks his head to the side, observing you with amusement as he opens his mouth just a little, his sharp tooth biting down on the tip of his tongue in what you think is a weakening type of smirk, "waste management and a couple of bars is what I do, angel face."

you can't even act like this is a regular interaction with how not regular he's speaking to you, your usual work attitude towards guests washing away with him.

you pucker your lips a smidge and your eyebrows furrow in a playful curiosity as you side eye him a little, "do you interrupt everyone this often?"

he lets out a singular laugh, bearing his fanged smile at you when it dissipates, "only the ones easy to mess with."

your jaw drops a little, for the nth time

the audacity!

"I'm at work and you're saying all these things that aren't a regular interaction for me here!"

"and what were you working on all the way over here?" he retorts leaning down into your space

you fight the urge to roll your eyes and take a deep breath, steadily digging your heel into the hard floor as a way to stabilize yourself.

"taking a small break."

"aw don't look so mad at me," he tuts so endearingly, " 's cute but I don't want to stress that little heart of yours."

you feel yourself growing soft at the words, stomach feeling fluttery and like a fairy threw up in it.

but no no. you can't flirt with a client. much less one with face tattoos. it's just. it's not viable. this isn't a movie and your mom would sooooo kill you for even considering it. and even if he has clean money, he looks like bad news, like he'd just want you as a plaything.

"I appreciate the flattery mister..."

"sukuna." he smiles so handsomely

"mister sukuna, but this is a work event and I really can't be-"

he stands tall all of a sudden and puts his hands in his pockets, motioning with his head towards the painting, "put that on my account."

"HUH?"

he gives his back to you and starts to walk away, "you heard me angel face."

later, after everyone’s left, you’re left to look at the auction paperwork leftover with your boss

"mister sukuna requested that all of the heian artifacts be sent to his estate..." your boss worriedly reads to you from his paperwork, "and for the peony in night painting be sent your address."

"what?!"

you dash to his side to read the document with him.

there was your name and the request for it to go wherever you lived. when did he even get your name?

"you didn't know?" he looks at you, wide eyed.

"no!" you quickly answer, heart beginning to race, overthinking brain running wild that people will think you seduced him or did something else to have such an expensive piece sent to your home, "I didn't do anything! I swear! We just talked about the painting and he asked me how much it was, said he was going to buy it and then he left!"

"well whatever you did was good enough for him to gift you such a piece," he pushes his glasses back up, tired eyes skimming over the rest of the document to make sure everything else was in place. your boss then picks up another paper from his desk and pushes it towards you, "doesn't matter anymore, sign off on these and put your address."

you're on the phone with your best friend satoru after the painting gets moved into your apartment by the delivery workers of your agency later that week.

"okay and why aren't you hopping on his dick????" he asks crudely, unphased as you can hear him trim his finger nails through the phone

"he's like, not presentable satoru," you breathe, stressed as you brush your hair back, "he had a bunch of tattoos on his face and had that whole playboy thing going on."

satoru hums in response, too focused on what he's doing

"this is too much money spent on me by a stranger, I feel guilty, what if he thinks this is going to get me to sleep with him? what do I do?"

"okay chilllllllll," he drags on, "tattoos aside, was he hot?"

you stay quiet, knowing where this was going.

"oh ho hooooo you think he's hot. what's wrong with letting him get a taste then?"

"because I'm not like that." you say firmly, patience being tested by the white haired fiend.

"you're sooooo boring," he sighs before taking your side, "the guy can't force you to sleep with him, he already signed it away to you. and it'd be pretty distasteful to harass you at your place of work for some pussy."

in the process of biting the skin at the edges of your nails off you look at the new painting hanging on your wall.

"okay, you're right."

"besides what kinda face tattoos were they? was he on some lil xann shit?"

"no," you exhale, recalling his face, "they were like these sharp lines outlining his cheeks."

"he in the mafia or something?"

"no he said he does waste management and owns a couple of bars."

"don't know why you're so opposed to riding that then, you sound way too dreamy talking about him."

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU WHY!"

and so what if mister sukuna's become a little fantasy of yours as the days go by? being with him isn't feasible, but that doesn't mean you can't be flattered by his advances towards you.

you're just a girl after all.

he hasn't come back, something you shouldn't really allow yourself to be bummed out about, but you still feel hopeful everyday before work.

stop, it's not going to happen.

it's what you tell yourself as you walk into a fancy nightclub kinda bar with your coworkers one friday. one of them sold a 500k dollar vase from the victorian era and said drinks were on them tonight. free drinks were free drinks and you really wanted to see if this bar would make lychee martinis.

although not vip, even the normal tables were expensive looking. there wasn't that horrible packed stench of vape smoke and sweat. this place smelled lingering cigarette smoke and expensive cologne, something like guerlain.

you've entrusted your bag to one of your coworkers by the time you've headed off to the bar real quick to make your order.

they don't make lychee martinis

but at least they had espresso martinis

so you're sipping on one within a few minutes, seated comfortably on the luxury couch to your table as you look around the club/bar.

it's so pretty and classy.

there's chandeliers that somehow don't clash tackily with the slight colorful low lighting pulsing with the music. the floors are clean and the seats are made out of soft leather. even the people here are dressed accordingly. no girls were wearing sneakers here, so magical.

and when you look straight ahead, there's some sort of vip room aside from those at the balcony. must be a fortune to expense. one of the curtains shuffles and you can only make out a little bit of the inside.

its dimly lit by red chandeliers and the couches are-

the double doors open as a group of men walk out. and as they move out, a face goes immediately detected by you.

seated at the end of the room, smack right across from you, is sukuna.

who immediately detects you.

his face had been so stern the split second before he spotted you. and now it was smirking at you, mischievous glint fading away when the doors finally closed.

argh, you forgot he owned a couple of bars!

you don't know if you feel nervous or excited he saw you.

well, you do.

both.

but the overlapping combination had you picking up an adrenaline rush, your flight instinct screaming at you. but you were among coworkers and couldn't act on it like a second grader running away from their crush.

so you chug the rest of your drink and flee to the bar, hoping you get lost among the crowd if he was going to go up to you.

"an espresso martini please!" you pipe up, drumming your fingers on the bar countertop nervously before unlocking your phone and sending a distress text to satoru

you SATORU SATORU SATORU SATORU SATORU PAINTING GUY HES AT THE CLUB MY COWORKERS AND I ARE AT I THINK HES THE OWERNER AND HE SAW ME EING GKJE IM GOING TO KILL MYSEF

satoru jeez im here oh no ahahahahahahaaha good luccccckkkkkk remember to wrap it before you tap it kiddo ;)

"trying to hide?" a low voice teases in your ear

you basically jump at the intrusion, fumbling with your phone and catching it before it falls.

sukuna's there when you hesitantly turn

it's so hard not to faint out of sheer infatuation with his presence.

he's closer to you than when you met at work. his cologne infiltrating your senses and his hard chest right smack in front your face.

"not funny." you breathe, putting a hand over your heart and giving him a soft glare

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he smiles down at you condescendingly, leaning closer to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger before letting go of it

why is he so hot?

"you like your gift?" he jeers

you deadpan a little and tilt your head at him, peering up at him through stern eyes, "if that was an invitation or incentive for me to sleep with you or do anything remotely-"

"can't I spoil a pretty face?"

sukuna leans on the countertop and sets his arm down so his hand can hold his face as he looks at you. he's still taller than you like this and its so frustrating for your nether regions.

"well," your eyes flee away from his, looking at a specific point to the side from pure nerves, "although I really appreciate the gift, I had already made it clear that I wasn't interested."

"you're breakin my heart angel." he pouts at you in such a fake manner before standing up straight and reaching a hand out to you, "not even interested in a dance?"

you close your hand in a careful fist to your chest when you look down at his own, thinking about the offer.

"the least you could do for that pretty present of yours." sukuna smiles, knowing you wouldn't be able to say no to him out of guilt.

you press your lips together and look at him with awkward 'really?' eyes before hesitantly putting your hand in his.

the difference between your hand and his was enough to send you into a coma.

sukuna's twirled you into his embrace at the center of the dance floor when he begins to tease you.

"if you don't like me why's your hand sweating balls?" his canines gleam under the lights

you bashfully look to the side to avoid his gaze, instead coming to find that your coworkers have spotted you dancing with the handsome figure that is sukuna. many of them, mostly the women are drunkenly giving you excited thumbs up and big smiles, fangirling for you.

"I just have sweaty hands." you quickly peek at him before going back to looking anywhere else but him.

"and you can't look me in the fuckin face because?"

the vulgarity makes you squash your nervousness and whip your head around to face him.

"I'm looking you in the face." your eyebrows are knit and your mouth is a little tight pressed, your bottom lip starting to defiantly jut out in a pout.

he smirks down at you and it's not as evil as the other times he's done it.

"what?" you say defensively when it carries on a little too long, almost feeling insecure when you start to worriedly look for what he's not saying in his eyes

"stop letting me press your buttons," sukuna teases, "I told you its bad for your blood pressure."

you feel like that's not all he wanted to say, but you move on and try to remain calm while you hold his gaze and mention something else.

"how did you know my name? back when you signed off for the painting to be sent to me."

sukuna shrugs

but then he laughs when you glare at him and answers you

"heard you introduce yourself to some sleazeballs asking about the yamato paintings."

that was wayyyyy before you gave that monologue on the tapestry he had also seen you talking about.

"how long were you watching me?" you give him a quizzical investigative face.

"why're you asking?" he leans down next to your ear, "trynna flatter yourself knowing how long you had my attention?"

"you're impossible." you puff, feeling your face heat up at the question and the proximity

"now that's where you're wrong," sukuna tuts, swirling you around so swiftly and quite literally sweeping you off your feet

"how?"

the hand that he has on your waist drops and moves up to softly hold the underside of your neck and reaching all the way to your cheek, his thumb fondly gliding over it.

"what's impossible about a guy spending 150k on you angel face?"

fuck, you're actually melting like this

but no no no no you're still trying to be stern with him

"what are you trying to get at?" you softly glare, face slightly mushed in his large hand

his eyes look dense and full of something warm when he peers down at your lips, your nose, your eyes, everything.

but he ignores your question

"did the bar have what you wanted?"

taken aback, you wait to see if that's actually what he said and when you realize he did, that's when you answer.

"no."

"what shit were you lookin for?" he says, visibly curious and looking for your input

"a lychee martini..." you're a little confused

he hums in recognition before letting his thumb make a quick swipe on your bottom lip and letting go of you completely after, only holding on to the tips of your fingers.

you feel a little empty? when he lets go

"I have to finish some paperwork beautiful," sukuna plays a little with your index and middle finger, letting them go when he continues to say, "don't stay too late."

"or you'll have to get a ride back home in my car." he almost bites, teasing you basically for your fear of proximity with him

and then he leaves, large v-shaped back breaking through the sea of people and going back into his lounge room.

and the next morning well...

"satoru...you won't believe this," you start through the phone the moment your friend picks up, pacing through your apartment in your nightrobe as you eye the two newly installed sister pieces on your apartments walls.

"you're at his place and his place looks like you're in american psycho?"

"ugh no," you groan, starting to nervously twirl your hair in your hand,"he sent me those other two painting from the same line as the first one he bought me."

"no way."

"yes way."

"he wants youuuuu bad."

"argh stop." you flop onto your bed, letting yourself ricochet in it

"this guy is like wrapped around your finger and he's rich. I'm kinda offended you haven't even entertained it at least give me some bedtime stories."

"but what if he's just throwing money at me like im some expensive call girl????" you run your hand down your cheek and mouth in peril

"um, he could get one for like 40k, the guy's practically spent half a million to make you happy."

you huff, still worried as you stare at the paintings from the open door in your room

"and who cares about the tattoos at this point. if I were a girl id dream about a hot sexy tattooed bad boy throwing cash at me and eating my ass."

"ugh satoru, when have I ever talked about him eating my ass."

"oh he's going to try to when he's whipped like that."

and you put some thought into sukuna later that night when you're taking a bubble bath.

it's actually kinda plausible to see something serious with him...

your perspective shifts when you imagine the end game you've always wanted and he fits into it. you can see that handsome inked face holding one of your babies.

to be honest, it turns you on.

and how you deal with that...you know how

it's the following monday, two days laterish, when you've gotten back from work and sit there staring at the number you're about to dial.

it's sukuna's number.

and even though you feel really weird/guilty about taking a quick picture of it behind your boss' back from his files to have gotten it, you push the feeling down.

"hello?" a mean gruff voice picks up

"mister sukuna?" you peep, adding your name in case he didn't recognize the voice

his tone suddenly changes when he hears you speak

"now where'd you get this number bad girl?"

you want to bash your head into your table because how can you hear his smile through the phone?! and how is it making you nervous like this?!

"from my boss's file for you at work, but please don't tell him-"

"you get the gifts I sent you?"

straight to the point like always, so you might as well get to it

"yes, I called because I wanted to say thank you."

the paintings do really look beautiful in your apartment

"I really appreciate them and the fact that you went out of your way to get them for me."

"You're welcome angel, wanted something to remind you of me."

you giggle a little at his flirting

"oh? did I say something funny?"

"no," you breathe through a grin, "I just felt flattered."

"now you're flattered huh? all I had to do was buy you the set? this part of your little plan?" he jeers

its all obvious teasing, but you still want to clear the air

"no, I just..."

and you can't put it into words that 'hey I thought about it and I'm actually into you and wouldn't mind more of your flirting' without getting embarrassed

"just tired of playing hard to get like you're scared of me huh?"

"ye-yeah," you nervously sigh, clicking your heels on the floor, "something like that."

"don't be scared pretty face," sukuna reassures you, an air of self assurance still there, like you're sure it'll always be, but nonetheless still soft enough to calm you, "I don't bite."

"unless you want me to."

you scrunch your nose, laughing a bit through it, "why did I know you were going to say that?"

"doesn't sound like you were saying no."

"stop thinking about that." you tut, embarrassed that he's touching such a topic

"as long as you do."

caught off guard, you go quiet, mind quickly racing to when you were servicing yourself to the thought of him the other day in your bath

"just teasing you sweetheart," he laughs, adding, "I'll ask you for permission next time I want to think about that. how's that sound?"

"okay." you almost stutter

"and how does picking you up at your apartment tomorrow for dinner sound?"

if you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounds unsure of your answer there even though he sounded so secure before.

"that sounds good too."

"alright. I'll pick you up at seven. I have to go now and do some business angel face."

"that's fine too."

"and send me your address. okay?"

"okay."

"bye angel."

"bye"

the moment you get home from work the next day, you are bussing it to the restroom to start getting ready.

now, you didn't plan on getting fucked. you were going to resist the ministrations of that man, especially if you didn't want to overthink the next day and somehow convince yourself all he wanted was sex from you and he ended up getting it. but you wanted to feel sexy and confident with him. because these last two times you had seen him were child's play. yes you were always polished, but this was making yourself perfect, layering everything together.

hell, you even shaved down there. you weren't going to have sex, you weren't! butttttt if his hand wanted to do give you a little...

stop stop! that's a thought for another time if this date ends up being good.

anyways...

so, when you look at yourself in the mirror, you're very proud of yourself. you even give yourself a hmph of approval.

this is gonna shut him up

you're pristine.

sukuna waiting for you outside angel

you inhale deeply when you see the text.

maybe, just maybe you were still nervous. and you couldn't exactly take a couple thirty minutes to run laps around your apartment right now to exert the energy of embarrassment.

but you put on your brave face and find yourself shakily opening the double doors to your apartment complex a few minutes later.

sukuna's already leaning against his very expensive looking car and you try not to look so bashful when you approach him because he hears the moment you open the door and smirks so devilishly handsome upon looking at you.

"all this for for me hm?" he bares a fangy smile at you as he gathers both of your hands in his.

you're about to faint, his mouth does the indent thing at the edges like the guy who plays finnick in the hunger games when he smiles.

your back shivers, but you hide it.

"why can't it be just for me?" you retort, turning your head to give him a playful side eye, "I like to dress up."

"then share a little bit with me sweet angel." he playfully pleads, making these obvious fake eyes of desperation while swiveling his head in 'agony' into your couples hands

but the way he nuzzles into your hands for just a split second is so tender that you're fighting the urge to backflip across the entire city.

"what restaurant are we going to anyways?" you scrunch your nose happily at his previous playfulness

sukuna starts to maneuver you towards his car, opening the door, and buckling you in while he answers, "it's a surprise."

then he shuts the door and winks at you while walking to his side, relishing in the way you cross your arms and squint at him from inside the vehicle.

"that's cheesy," you say when he sits in the driver seat

"good thing we're on a date then sweet thing." he smirks while starting the car, suddenly and quickly pinching your cheek before backing out of the parking space.

and the thing is there's not one not hot thing about him.

you wish you could record the way he drives so you could watch it later at home by yourself to fangirl to while playing hot music over it.

he drives so well with one hand and its no surprise considering how massive it is and overtakes the wheel. and its the ringed hand that's the one driving. two large silver rings, one on his thumb and the other on his middle finger. the veins scattered around them make you want to clench your thighs too. if he's this veiny on his hands, then he must-

"take a picture, it'll last longer." he laughs, cocky smirk decorating the just as cocky glint in his eyes when he peers over at you for a split second.

"just keep driving." you huff, cheeks hot while you cross your arms to yourself and turn yourself towards the opposite direction, gazing out the window as you beat yourself up for staring at him for too long.

"here."

you look over and sukuna's holding his phone out for you, eyes still on the road when he says, "take a picture of that pretty face for me."

"huh?"

pit-pat pit-pat goes your heart

"what's so confusing about wanting to see your face on my phone?"

hesitantly, you take his phone, "but that's a little awkward to do in front of you...and-"

"do that little shy smile." he winks at you and cocks his head as if to already say thank you

feeling like you're unable to say no because what he wants you to do is actually really harmless and super sweet, you click on the camera button of his phone.

and against every bone in your body getting second hand embarrassment, you raise the phone in both of your hands, and do that 'little shy smile' he asked for, which does come naturally because you're feeling soooo shy right now.

you press on the middle center

then suddenly sukuna's squishing your cheeks between his hand

flash!

and he snatches his phone back, tucking it back in his pocket while he keeps driving, eyes forward but still drenched in mischief along with his evil grin

"hey!"

"got a complaint?"

"what was that?!"

"thanks for the picture beautiful."

"ugh that better not be my contact picture!"

"good thing this phone's mine ain't it?"

letting out a strong huff, you sink into your corner of the car, resting your elbow on the car door and placing your cheek flush against your hand.

to say the surprise was a surprise is an understatement. a surprise would have been a really expensive restaurant you'd never be able to afford. but this?

this is the entire rooftop lounge of a skyscraper all to yourself with sukuna.

and the sky's barely turning orange, the sunset near.

he knows what he's doing oh my god you want to jump him so bad and climb himwkefnejfegerg

"you like it?" he's leaned down and swerved his upper body a little to face you, haughty smile giving away that he knows you're impressed.

"yes..." you exhale, impressed, marveling at the whole thing. your brain doesn't even think twice to follow sukuna when he gently takes your hand and puts a light hand on the small of your back to lead you to the dining table.

and you're still too busy taking in every detail when he pulls out a chair for you and helps you sit down.

"is this one of those custom menus with the private chef and everything?" your jaw is a little dropped and you're nerding out over this whole extravaganza

sukuna just stares at you for a few seconds, signature confident grin only tightlipped and gingerly upturned at the end.

"you gonna sound this surprised every time I take you out?"

nobody's ever done anything like this before.

sure nobody's ever bought you half a million in art pieces before either.

but this was in a way, his own form of art. the attention to detail with what time he was coming to pick you up so you could catch the sunrise. making it private and just intimate for the two of you...

you delicately fwip the menu to your chest and smile at him like a little girl who's just been told she can whatever she wants from the store.

"thank you, mister-"

"thank you ryomen." he corrects you, the corner of his mouth fully upturning

"thank you, ryo," you beam, "words aren't enough to explain how grateful I am for this."

and maybe its the shortening of his name, but????

his eyebrows raise a little, as if he's rarely surprised, and a warm color matching the sunset blossoms slightly on his cheeks

"oh." your mouth forms an o shape and your eyes widen a little, "are you blushing?"

but just as fast as it appeared, sukuna furrows his brows to regain his cool facade and starts clearing his throat

"take a look at the wine options."

turns out, just as handsome as his face is, so is his ability to converse and listen.

for every moment you forgot what you were yapping about, he was quick to remind you what is was. the smallest details you mentioned, he was asking questions about when you finished talking.

"can I have more win-"

"ah no," a tch comes from sukuna when he talks to the waiter, "I had a special drink for her with the dessert. can you just bring it now?"

"yes sir." he bows and heads off

two thoughts:

one: you started to notice that sukuna made that tick whenever he was in a serious mode or regarding people that werent??? you??? possibly??? it was hot if that was even more the case.

and two: what special drink?

"what special drink are you-"

"here you go madam."

as quickly as sukuna sent off for it, was as quickly as it came.

there's a lychee martini in front of you

your eyes can't help but widen in awe at him, "you remembered?"

"you think there's anything I won't?" he quirks a brow at you, offended even you might say

a breeze comes and you shiver when you respond to him through a grin, "no, I'll make sure to know that now."

he observed the way your body rattles because no sooner is he standing up and picking up his coat from his chair to drape over you. as he's leaning down to do this, you bite the bullet and do what you've been dying to do since you got over your fears about him.

after placing a hand on his forearm to keep him in place, you pick your head up and place a soft kiss on his lips as a thank you, letting your lips mold onto his for a fleeting moment before letting go of his arm and the kiss.

his eyes are closed when you pull back, and he's inhaling and exhaling calmly. he tightlips his mouth too, almost as if savoring and memorizing what just happened.

"you're a tease, angel" he gruffs before heading back to his seat.

a few weeks later, sukuna's cooking for you for your date. he's an excellent cook and plenty of successful dates with him have allowed for you to finally accept an invitation to his very expensive penthouse.

you've kissed plenty of times by now and been on the precipice of heavy make out sessions.

the precipice

so you're soooooo eager to sit with him on his couch after a glass of wine with your very tasty dinner and very good conversation

you've purposely worn a skirt too. not that you want to have sex (well you do) but just to tease him for when you know you'll inevitably be on his lap.

"what're you doing angel?" he asks when you take his whiskey glass from his hand and place it on the coffee table in front of you.

"I wanna kiss," you breathe, already straddling him and putting your arms over his shoulders.

sukuna quickly places his hands on your waist and leers at you with a mischievous smile, "what's taking you so long then sweetheart?"

you giggle before swooping in for his mouth.

it's probably the fact that you're both finally under the shield of privacy, but sukuna pushes you flush against him, holding onto you tightly. and you cling onto him just the same

he kisses so sensually and wet, you're on cloud 9. fuck you wonder if this is how messy he'd be with your pussy.

you whine when sukuna dips his tongue into your mouth, flicking at yours as an invitation to play. he's evil at this, you find out when you try to flick at his tongue and end up with him sucking on it with his teeth. you can feel him laugh in throat when you moan and squeal at how much it hurts but turns you on all the more.

just the act of asserting his dominance over you during the kiss has you growing needy and small under him. because you've already started to mindlessly grind and bounce on his lap, scratch that, his very prominent boner.

"shit." he growls when he looks down at your panties being the only barrier you have against his crotch.

"feel me, please." you pant, placing one of his hands on your ass, the other on one of your tits.

sukuna's eyes grow dark when he watches you do this, immediately squeezing hard to watch for your reaction.

he seems to be in a daze when he sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes form an o to let a moan out. immediately dipping his head into your neck, lapping so languidly at a spot on your jugular.

it's all too much, so hot, you need more, you want to do more

your mind is so hazy

sukuna stops you right when he feels you begin to fiddle with the top button of your shirt.

his breathing is labored so much as a testament to how much restraint he's showing.

"let's remember what you said before angel face." he huffs out, struggling to speak at the feeling of your pussy pulsing on top of his bulge.

that's right

you told him you appreciated a grand gesture to make things official and only then would you allow yourself to sleep with someone.

you groan, closing your eyes and smushing yourself against his chest.

"just hurry up," you whine, grinding a little on him in desperation to which his response is to pinch your butt.

"don't be a brat baby."

you're pretty sure sukuna's going to do his grand gesture and make you 'officially his' in Paris. (even though you both know he's wrapped around your finger and you're too crazy about him)

why, you ask?

because you just got to paris in a private jet with him.

it's like a fifty shades of grey movie, you fear (not)

he has you go on a shopping spree at galaries lafayette with him as your audience for any try-ons. he's bought you so many things, some just because you stared at it for too long, others because he thought you'd look pretty in them.

he then has you dress up in any of the many choices for dinner at a michelin star restaurant, which was spectacular and not one of those avant garde graham cracker for dinner dishes.

and you can't help but be so giddy when you get to your ultra special room at the ritz and find it covered in pink rose petals. the balcony was open with a table covered in gifts you hadn't seen him get for you. another smaller cart next to it had an assortment of chocolates and small sweets, and a large metal can with two champagne bottle poking out of it.

and sukuna being him, he timed it so that the Eiffel Tower was sparkling when you got there.

"you still trynna hurry me up now?" he looks down at you with a knowing cocky brow quirked up.

you shriek, jumping up into his arms and giggling through the many kisses you begin to place on his face. sukuna lifts you up into his arms like it's nothing, inviting your kiss attack until he somehow brings you to lay across lap on the bed.

"patience isn't fucking easy with a brat like you angel."

slap!

you squeal again and feel sukuna hike your skirt all the way up.

but what you don't anticipate is for him to rip your lace thong apart with both of his hands.

gasping, you turn around worried, "I had that thong ready for weeks!"

"shut up."

another slap

"don't talk about shit when we both know I'll get you the same pair again."

you like how foul mouthed he is now, and you haven't even gotten to the good part

exposed to the air, you feel yourself getting drenched more than you already were in anticipation earlier.

sukuna notices, a low grumble resonating from his chest when he pries your ass and thighs open. you can't see, but you can feel your slick covering you all over like some vulgar cobwebs at the separation.

he squeezes hard as a warning when you wiggle your ass out for him, desperate for some relief.

"I want you, please, ryo," you beg, turning around to bat your lashes at him

"fuck, baby, let me fingerfuck you first." he growls, not even looking at you, still deeply concentrated on your wet pussy.

with his right hand, he slides three fingers back and forth across your folds, spreading your slick, getting you even messier. and when you're moaning softly in relief, melting into his touch, he just slides all of those three fingers in. squelches ricochet in the room and you're far from embarrassed now, trying to fuck yourself back on his hand.

then he brings in a fourth finger, and you're squealing. your brain can only process the repetitive delicious intrusion of fingers into your sticky hole.

"I-" you begin, numb on the only words you can think, "I-i lov-"

your now official boyfriend muffles you with his hand, continuing to destroy your pussy with his other hand and leaning close to your face to smile so evilly at the way you're jolting and furrowing your brows with every thrust.

"ah-ah not now." sukuna roughly grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to forcibly make you look at him.

"you're only allowed to say that when this tight pretty hole's finally wrapped around my dick. are you listening pretty baby?"

"mhm" you nod eagerly, eyes rolling back when his thumb joins the party and starts rubbing against your clit roughly

before he lets go of you, sukuna presses his mouth against yours and gives you the most rated r kiss ever, letting his spit drip and mix with your slobbering mess from the heaving you've been doing.

it doesn't take long before you feel that knot start to tighten up, body starting to twitch against your will, which causes your boyfriend to pound you harder with his hand.

"ryo," you squeal, subconsciously trying to escape his grasp, "I-im gonna-oh my god oh my god, I can't I can't I can't."

you're basically screaming when one of ministrations pushes so hard against your gspot that you're making a mess on his hand and arm automatically, hell you think you've squirted all over his clothes too.

“atta girl atta girl.” he groans, still messily fucking your pussy and sloshing your juices around

you're still in the aftermath of your orgasm, shaking when sukuna manhandles you onto the bed and fixes you so that you're face down ass up.

the only recovery time you even get is the moment it takes for him toss away his coat away and hurriedly unbutton his shirt off. if you're not mistaken he gave up and tore it off by the time he got to the middle.

before he pushes your face back into the bed, you make out that he does have more tattoos. the moment is brief but you see lines wrapped around his arms and others dragging down to his abs all the way from his shoulders.

and satoru, to your very big surprise, is right when, with no shame, sukuna licks a long fat stripe all the way from your clit to your asshole.

shocked, your eyes widen, but you can't help how you become putty in his hands at the way he so sloppily interchanges between your pussy and your other much lewd hole.

pants keep heaving from your mouth, short circuiting on the way he was just spitting on your asshole and then started to suck on your clit while finger fucking your pussy again.

squealing and banging your fist on the bed as exertion, sukuna doesn't really care, because he's no sooner just decided that the proximity he has with your pussy isn't enough. now he's wrapped his arms around your thighs and diving his face into your pussy, sharp nose stimulating your lips while he mouths and slobbers all over your little clit.

"ryo!" you squeal, trying to pull away because it's too much and resorting to contorting yourself around in order to pull at sukuna's hair

his reaction? he growls from the euphoria of your nails digging into his scalp while he gets to makeout with your pussy.

too hot, you think

you feel the twitching start again in your body, the mushy sloppy feeling on your clit becoming just enough for you to start getting there again

and get there you do, quickly, because sukuna spits on your clit and immediately starts sucking on it harshly, the perfect mix for you to start coming undone again.

not as severe as coming from your g-spot, you make a small spurting mess compared to when sukuna had you keening on his fingers.

you're fucked out already and he hasn't even put his dick in yet.

“fuckin come here and taste yourself.” sukuna growls, dragging you towards him by the ankle until his hand makes his way to the back of your neck, tilting your head to look up at him.

he goes in to basically fuck your mouth with his own. crudely separating briefly between kisses to push accumulated saliva between your lips, relishing in the way you’re practically begging for it and being so pliant for him. all the meanwhile he pushes yours dress down and off of you, even smoothly unclasping your bra.

"get on your back, nice and pretty on the pillows angel."

sukuna's stood up at the edge of the bed, undoing his pants roughly and quickly

and eagerly you scramble to the head of the bed, turning around and laying down, only picking your body up a little by leaning up on your forearms to watch him.

you rub your thighs together at the sight of him.

there's a thick line wrapped around both of his thighs. and you almost would've been entranced by it if it were't for the massive length between them.

sukuna's thick, long, and veiny. his tip looks angry, leaking globs of precum. his happy trail is mouthwatering with the way it leads to his trimmed bush. and-

oh! it twitched a little

"you stare enough?" sukuna exhales through a haughty smirk, getting on top of you in the bed, which subsequently means he opens your legs so he can settle between them.

you watch in lustful agony when his dick bobs against your pussy and grazes it, which only lasts a second because your boyfriend obstructs your view by initiating a makeout session with you. but where your previous kisses during this encounter had been been vulgar and inappropriate, this one was deep and sensual.

unable to do anything but be at the receiving end of his work on your mouth, you feel as if you can't get any closer to sukuna, wrapping yourself around him as if that'll subdue your need.

like he's able to sense it, he softly lets his hands wander, finding your calves and guiding them up, up, up until his hands are under your thighs and you're pressed open so lewdly. a tiny whine escapes you when you feel his entire length slap against your folds, sliding between them and making your heat pulse even more in anticipation.

when he separates from the kiss, one of your hands is pressed against his chest, being held by him by the wrist gently, while the other is wrapped over his shoulder, that hands of yours mindlessly scratching at his undercut.

"look at me," he grumbles, crimson eyes boring into your own when you make eye contact with him.

"you want this?" he lewdly slaps his cock against your puffy lips.

with a shiver, you nod your head earnestly, "please."

sukuna's chest rumbles with something dark at the sight of you so innocently desperate for him.

shortly after, with one hand, he positions his tip at your entrance and then uses that same hand to hold onto the side of your face fondly when he starts to push in.

he stares intensely at you, analyzing every contortion of your face at the way he starts to fuck himself into you.

it feels like the air's been knocked out of you with every thrust he uses to ease into your pussy.

"ah ryo," you let out a combination of a squeal and a pant, head lolling to side

"keep fuckin looking at me," he says so meanly, love tapping your cheek to turn you back to him.

chest heaving, you keep your half lidded eyes on him, too conscious of the way he's just bottomed out and beginning to slide out. the way he drags out of you is so delicious.

but it's even better when he pushes all the way into you, his fat tip working past the ridges of your insides, pushing against the way it tries to hug him rightly.

although the pace is slow, sukuna presses hard and evilly against you with each thrust, making sure to kiss your cervix with his tip. it's not anything too hardcore and you know that you're perfectly capable of cumming from just this at the way you start to lose yourself.

you love it

you love him

and you can say it now.

"r-ryo," you moan through furrowed brows.

"mm" he hums, still focused on you.

you gulp, body strung out, "I love you."

nothing's changed, he's still boring into your soul, which inherently makes you insecure because he hasn't said it back.

"ryo," you begin to whine, exasperated and flustered that you just declared your love to him and he hasn't, "I said that I-"

"yeah I heard you," he says, pushing your legs further back, "I fuckin love you too angel."

"have for a while," he mutters, his pace is ruthless all of a sudden and he rolls his eyes in ecstasy before leaning down and harshly sucking on one of your nipples.

you can't take what he's giving you without screaming, essentially.

he's big everywhere and he's completely overtaken you.

thoughts can't even process in your head, only able to process the copious amounts of pleasure he's giving you and babble out whatever's on the tip of your tongue in the the moment.

"it's so-so much ryo," you moan, "ah-ah 's so fucking big, your cock's so fucking big."

"yeah and you're fucking taking it all baby." he angles his hips to start hitting up at your g-spot, "tight little pussy's sucking me back in like a good girl."

"hngh IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou." is all that squeals out of you in response

and if you weren't getting destroyed before, you definitely were now.

drool spills from the side of your cheek in the absence of your words as sukuna's just dragging you onto his cock mercilessly like a fleshlight. which apparently is what starts to bring you to your third orgasm of the night.

so mustering all the strength you can, you pull your boyfriend against you by wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I want you to cum with me so fuckin bad ryo," you whine, forehead pressed against his, "please please please please cum with me, I want it so bad, I wanna milk you, pleasepleaseplease."

he growls, "fuck."

"don't talk like that baby," his eyes close for a moment as if he's trying to calm himself down, but he keeps the same rhythm

"please," you plead again, forcibly pulsing against him when you fear that your orgasm is already around the corner, "it's all I want, I'll be so good, I'm so good for you, pleasepleaseplease."

sukuna's breathing labors heavily as he listens, but ultimately ignores you as he grips you harshly and bullies his dick against your walls.

all until you just

release

your pussy pulses and clamps around him sporadically, juices spurting all over sukuna's abs, thighs, everywhere.

which he ends up not being immune to

"shit!"

considering the way he starts cumming so much inside of you, mean thrusts twitching inside of your ruined hole. every spurts spilling from his tip has you wishing for more and more.

he falls on top of you after, hugging you to him and nuzzling into your neck tiredly. one of your hands is swiping across the expanse of his back slowly in exhaustion.

"fuckin tease," he nips at your shoulder, obviously bothered you made him cum so quickly.

when you wake up the next morning, you're so very sore and you want to nuzzle into sukuna for the serotonin burst as medicine.

but he's not there.

your upper body sticks up as you look for him

oh, he's on the phone in the balcony

he's got some black sweats on, hanging deliciously off his hips and paying homage to this v-line.

you want to jump on him as soon as he gets off the phone.

he hasn't noticed you're awake, turning his back to you as he continuous talking. which you take advantage of, quickly rummaging through one of the shopping bags at the side of the bed from yesterday and finding one of the sexy slip gowns he bought for you.

sukuna's dragging a stressed hand through his hair when you open the glass door a little. he still hasn't heard you.

'tch'

"the fuck you mean that patch-work fuck raided the warehouse?"

he sounds so angry

'tch' and then an exasperated sigh

"no don't fucking do shit. can't even leave you shit faces alone for a second before shit falls through."

"wait until I get there. put twenty men at the other warehouse, urame's in charge of them."

"and keep the motherfucker you found alive. I'll deal with that fuck face when I get back."

"yeah well if he's one of those shit sniffers, he's not leaving alive. don't scare him yet, let him think we'll keep him off the hook. yeah okay, don't fuck up again."

not

leaving

alive?

sukuna turns a little to the side after ending the call and you can see him pinching the bridge of his nose from stress, eyes closed.

until they're not, and he spots you from the corner of his eyes, face dropping, panic setting in, both of you for very different reasons.

"angel face, how much did you hear?"

your throat feels dry

are you even mad? fuck fuck fuck fuck you're so stupid. every single emotion is being thrown at you. mad because he lied to you, so much so that he got you in bed with him. you shouldn't have given him a chance. but you're so sad, so heartbroken. you really really love him, so much you can't breathe right now at the thought of leaving him. but is he even a good person? was he one of those mafia men who abused girls like you? you can't you can't-

"sweetheart sweetheart," he's rushing to you, voice beginning to plea as he cups your hands into his, keeping them close to his chest and crouching a little to your height, "it's not what you think."

you're struggling to breathe, scared of who you're with

"what's," you start weakly, in shock almost, "what's not what I think about you saying a guy can't leave alive."

it pains him, you can see it in his eyes when he presses his lips together and tries to think of something to say

"are you actually in the mafia?!" you spit out, confused, "this entire time you had this sketchy vibe and said it was just your stupid waste management and bars?"

"I do own those baby." he sighs, wincing a little

the back of your mind notes that your previous thought about him being an abusive mafia man is a farce, he seems so...defeated that you know now. he's not threatening you.

"what exactly do you do." you say through gritted teeth, stressed at the situation and still trying to decide which of your instincts you should follow.

sukuna, hands still clasped with yours, gets on his knees and brings his forehead against your fingers, "doll, let's just go inside and I'll explain to you. I'm not as horrible as you're starting to think I am."

it's a little true considering he wiped a previous thought off your mind earlier, but still

this is dangerous

this is bad

but you nod your head, still angry, telling my the knit of your brows, "fine."

sukuna eyes you carefully as he gently closes the glass door to the balcony, you're already seated at the center of the bed, arms crossed over each other as you glare at him.

he wants to shoot his foot for the sole fact that he's made you so mad at him and that even that's not enough for him to not want to kiss that angry pout off your face, no matter how upset it is.

"so," you start, "how many people have you killed?"

its so venomous that sukuna closes his eyes in defeat.

"princess, that doesn't matter." sukuna sighs as he sits at the edge of the bed, facing you.

"what do you mean it doesn't matter how many people you've killed?! wouldn't it matter if I had a kill count of-"

"all you need to know is that it's not over thirty," he exhales and licks his lips, "and that every single one of them were some of the most shitty evil scum there is."

"and who do you work for?" you grumble

sukuna avoids your eyes when he answers, "people work for me."

you're still looking at him so sternly.

sukuna says your name and reaches his hand out towards you, planting it on the sheets right in front of you as an act of begging for your mercy

"I do bad things," he begins, eyes begging when they look upon you, "but I don't do them to good people."

but you're still numb because

"I can't-" your eyes water and your bottom lip wobbles, "I'm involved now! I-i want to be with you and marry you and everything! and you're stuck in this!"

sukuna's eyes widen at your burst

you feel a panic attack incoming as you keep speaking, your heartbeat escalating by a million and body starting to shake.

"you're a criminal! and you've probably got so many charges waiting on you! this isn't good! it's illegal and I don't want to go through seeing you in jail! I dont want to go to jail if I get caught in the mixup!"

and all sukuna does upon seeing your reaction then is lean forward, encroached on the bed as he grasps your feet fondly, placing tender yearning kisses on them.

"I'm not going to jail my love."

he places another kiss on your ankle

"and you aren't either."

"how do you know that?" you ask, still angry teared

"there's a system, there's people, I know too much."

ugh, you're still so mad at him,

so overwhelmed

you gently push him off, making a sound of frustration, and stomp over to the bathroom.

unable to completely shut him out, you leave the door slightly ajar as you take a bubble bath to soothe your body, both mentally and physically from last night.

there two soft rasps on the door before the door swings open a little and sukuna enters a bit awkwardly, slightly braced for you to suddenly kick him out.

his shoulders drop and relax when he sees that you just stare at him as he walks in, getting closer and closer to you.

"do you want me to order lunch in?" he sits at the edge of the tub cautiously, watching for any distress from you

serious and mildly stressed still, you couldn't deny how much your stomach was starting to hurt out of hunger.

"what's there for lunch..."

"anything you want."

you're looking up at sukuna sternly at the same time he's decided to move back a piece of stray bubbly hair from your bun away from your face

"well I don't know what kind of food there is here..." you huff a little, not denying his touch

"there's this uh," he thinks for a second, swirling your hair around his finger gently, swallowing before continuing, "the place with truffle pizza we watched on the tv nearby."

it's so confilcting to still feel so mad at him even when he's being so charming like this, he remembers everything you like.

"that a yes?"

"yeah." you look to the side feeling flustered at how tender he is with you

"I love you." he says, hand caressing your cheek and his face near yours so he can convey his sentiment wholeheartedly with his eyes.

you stare at him for a second

this is all such a whirlind for your mind, but

"I love you too."

it's not as lovey dovey as he just said it, nor as calm, but you mean it, even if you're irritated.

tentatively, he places a gentle, sensual kiss on your lips.

which you instinctively reciprocate, tilting your head up for more.

your boyfriend isn't kissing you as roughly as he was last night. these kisses were full of yearning and the plenty apologies you'd get tired of hearing if he were saying them into your ear again and again.

you moan softly into them, your breath starting to labor from need.

the hand that sukuna had on cheek starts to caress your knee gently. maybe he intended for the following or maybe he didn't but he understands you and your body when you spread your legs open under all the bubbles.

you sigh in relief when he starts fondling your folds under the water. and you can feel sukuna kiss you only a smidge harder at your reaction.

he slides two fingers in softly, hooking them thrush against your gspot instead of pummeling you like the night before.

you stop kissing--you're unable to kiss back when he starts to repeatedly press against the spot, hard, again and again.

"ah-ah," you pant, nails digging into his neck while he places loving kisses on yours

you cum hard, scratching hard down sukuna's neck, but he doesn't say anything, watching you in desperation as you come undone.

you're holding onto the edge of the tub for your life when sukuna drags his fingers out. you're still shaking terribly from the aftermath.

exhausted and gulping, you watch as he licks off his fingers what wasn't washed away by the bath before placing both of his hands on the underside of your arms.

"you wanna get out?"

"mhm." you nod shakily

you're still a bit serious throughout the next couple of days. not as pissed off as the first day, but you find it hard to wear down all your worries so quickly.

yet you manage to enjoy the little things sukuna had planned out and taken you to do.

so even though you're a little grumpy, you're not as grumpy as when you first found out, clinging onto him without a word as you both fly back home on his private jet and then on the car ride to his place.

"when we get there," sukuna begins to eye you tentatively, holding onto your hand harder while the other mans the steering wheel, "I'm going have to leave to deal with some things, but I'll be back for dinner."

knowing what you know, you carefully ask, "you mean deal with that guy?"

"yes," he exhales awkwardly, "the people he works with...they're not safe. I wouldn't be able to sleep if he was walking the same streets as you."

"well..." you start, looking at the road nervously

"just be safe. please?"

it's the first time you've shown any sort of conciliation with what he does and sukuna knows it, eyes widening and exchanging between you and the oncoming cars.

"yeah, I will sweet face," he kisses your hand, calmed features suddenly furrowing and tensing when he spots something he doesn't like.

'tch'

sukuna pulls over in a familiar area, parking perfectly before he starts to get out of the car. "it's nothing bad," he says, a little exasperated, "you can stay in the car, just let me help real quick."

and he dashes out of the car, jogging towards-

he's helping that elderly lady you helped so many weeks ago. except she has more bags on her this time and sukuna's stolen all them from her to help her cross the street.

now that you think about it, you're parked in front of the same apartment complex she lived in.

quickly, you get out of the car too, meeting them halfway, marveling at the both of them in confusion.

she smiles when she sees you, happy eyes looking between you and sukuna.

"h-hi." you try to greet her, still confused

but she's looking between you and sukuna like she knows something, more so him, like they have an inside secret between them.

head popping out from the many bags engulfing him, you see your boyfriend shake his head at her in a panic, eyes widening and trying to express the well known symbol for 'don't say anything don't say anything.'

you're really confused now and you're about to ask a question when the old lady bonks sukuna's head with a store magazine and it illicits an answer out of him for you

"this is my grandmother." he huffs, grumpily looking down at her from the corner of his eye

"what?" you're quick to try and polish yourself in front of her, leaping foward to shake her hand with both of yours, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. It's so nice to meet you, I'm ryomen's girlfriend!"

she laughs a little, and it kinda reminds you of mama odie's mischievous laugh from princess and the frog.

"I know," she giggles a little before walking towards her apartment complex, motioning for the both of you to follow her inside.

so you follow and

"babe, is that a gun sticking out her purse?!"