#well it does but i wanna wait until i have something to show for it before i drop that

[magentacat]

So i wanna pick your brain a bit.

Absolute RWBY for Jaune i figured why not focus on the spiritual side of things instead. While the Arcs may have a more nightly background there was a hidden side to them, a shaman side. If Arc has the ability to see spirits, those of the dead or nature spirits. They must begin their training in the shaman arts not only communicating with said spirits but if need be embody them. For that embodiment to work it would take Aura to do and Jaune's reverse while still large in this universe is a bit unstable. So much so that it made his training impossible.

However theres a rule the arc shamans follow, other than the family they must work in secrecy. Little iffy on this rule in particular bit I would imagine spirits aren't a well known thing in this universe

Wow, that's an interesting direction. Given that RWBY never really had spirits be a thing, other than what we saw with the Blacksmith. So, it is a good approach to an Absolute-style universe to go from an angle that wasn't explored in the main story.

I love it.

Also, I have to admit my own ignorance over shamans, so I had to dig a bit of research. And by research, I mean I watched the first episode of Shaman King, and now I'm hoping the following scene comes out coherently.

Hope you like:

--

That had been one weird mission for Ruby.

After a very exciting first week at the guild, Ruby had made herself a bit of a name. Between uncle Qrow's training, and what Roman taught her on the side, she was already most experienced than most 'freshly-branded' Hunters.

So, Guildmaster Goodwitch handed her a night mission to 'test the waters'. It was a simple search and destroy for a group of Grimm that were nesting in a ghost town. All Beowolves, maybe a single alpha.

And ruby had a thing for Beowolves. Ever since the one that bit her when she was a kid.

What she wasn't expecting was the boy sitting in the middle of town, cross legged and eyes closed. At first Ruby rushed over to save him from the Grimm around town, but they seemed to ignore him and only attacked her.

That actually simplified things for Ruby. With all the Beowolves Grimm coming at her, she didn't need to track or follow. So, it all took her three and a half minutes until the last Grimm was on the floor, dissolving into ash and smoke.

Then, it all got really confusing.

The boy suddenly got up, acting as if he had just woken up from a nap and hadn't been surrounded by creatures of destruction in a ghost town. He introduced himself as Jaune, but when Ruby asked if he was a Huntsman too, he showed her his left palm, untouched by the ink of an Emblem.

Ruby asked him if he wasn't scared of being mauled by Grimm, but he replied that a great Huntress was watching over him. That makes her blush, thinking he's talking about her. But Jaune corrects her that it's a 'white-hooded Huntress'.

He explained he's a shaman, connecting both the spirit and material worlds, and he was following the last will and testament of a spirit that guided him there.

"She says you're all that ever mattered, and that she loves you, just the way you are."

At first Ruby doesn't believe him. But that phrase, it tugged at something buried deep inside Ruby's heart. A memory she thought she had forgotten.

"Who?"

Jeanne simply looks aside, waiting for the spirit to nod.

With a tear down her cheek, but smiling, she does.

"She said her name is Summer Rose."

--

Not gonna lie, I liked this enough to consider it adding to 'canon'. But just like the others, I have my own plans, do my own thing, so, to the apocryphal.

But it was a great concept. Kudos for the idea.

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[sable-skies]

Btw. How do ya‘ll find so many Links-meet AU‘s??? Because??? I never??? find anything???

whenever I try I find only redesigns for a single Game/Link. Not a full blown AU.

Linked-Univere is the big one of course, with Linked-Maze being the second(?)

And (maybe?) yours of course!

Can thou help me? Any suggestions? I wanna stop LOOKING and start FINDING things. ToT

(I ADORE your designs fyi. Very pretty. And yes, especially Twilight and Legend. Warriors and Time after that!)

I only know a handful honestly!! I'm not that great at finding new ones, but every once in awhile I'll come across one :0c

Typically in the past I've searched for "links meet au" and that will yield results, though a lot of it is already known au's and whatnot. Otherwise I don't know what are good terms or tags to search for au's or redesigns, etc. sorry augh :'] hopefully anyone who reads this might have better suggestions!

(thank you!! i'm glad you enjoy them <33 tbh i think Twilight and Legend are my favorites out of all of them (warriors is my least favorite but thats because making primary colors + green work together is ROUGH and I hate looking at him sometimes he makes me so angry (he doesn't make me that angry i'm being dramatic but once i get my hands on him for a second draft its all over)), tho I'm thinking of repurposing those redesigns for an au of sorts. a little :3c if you will)

[jungkooklover777]

𝑀𝑦 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑜 ; clark kent / superman

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

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

trope: office romance + coworkers to friends to lovers.

genre: fluff + some angst + slow burn romance.

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

word count: 11,030.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knock on his door and open it.

“Alright, Kent— oh. Here she is.”

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

Damn, he’s kinda big.

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

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

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

You hope your ogling isn’t obvious.

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

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

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

AND HE HAS DIMPLES?! HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!

“It’s nice to meet you.”

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

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

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

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

Of course this had to happen to you.

“Oh, okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Clark—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whaaat?” The guy laughs in surprise.

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

What do you say to that? Truly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what are the plans for today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, let’s get started.”

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

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

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

“L/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Most of the people leave but some stay behind.

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

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

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

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

“Bitch.” He mutters to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He holds the elevator for you and you gulp nervously.

“What… was that?” You dare ask.

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t even try.

That part replays in your mind.

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

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

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

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

Chivalry isn’t dead?!

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

“Hey, Y/n?” Clark calls out.

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

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

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

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

“You deserve that promotion.”

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

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

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

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

You blink and feel lightweight.

“Thank you.”

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

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

You deserve that promotion.

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

“L/n.”

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

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

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

You’re impressed with yourself. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

“Right. Thanks.”

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

“Focus, Y/n. Focus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that smell?”

“It smells like… like smoke?

“Is something burning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everyone alright? Nobody hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

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

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

“Can you stand?” He gently asks.

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

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

“Your ankle.”

“Yup.” You hastily grit out.

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

“Do you mind if I carry you out?”

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

I didn’t hear that.

“Uhh…”

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

He’s strikingly handsome, so unfairly dashing.

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

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

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

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

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

Is this a bad time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a headache and headline this is going to be.

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

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

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

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

Was it real or a part of your imagination?

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

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

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

You softly gasp. “Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You left your purse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not many would do what’s right.”

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

“You have faith in humanity?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'll bite.

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

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

“Well said.” He nods.

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

“Your turn.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposed question.

“What do you do?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he's gone.

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

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

You don't see that often.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sooo?” She asks, strangely enthusiastic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lois.” You sigh.

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

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

“Clark, are you alright?”

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

Lois doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s hot.”

“Oh my god.” You groan.

“No, like, seriously.”

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

“Do you guys think he’d go for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

She purses her lips apologetically.

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

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

“Get out.”

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

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

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

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

“I believe he stopped the plane from crashing.”

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

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

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

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

A few people murmur in doubt but you continue.

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

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

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

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

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

“He carried you out?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Perry feels a headache coming on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Some of us have jobs to do.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you just say to me?”

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

He actually thinks he's got you this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint your eyes in suspected belief.

Mark continues his verbal assault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get in here. Right. Now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite back an explanation and a smirk.

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes and mentally prepare to be fired.

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

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

“What happened, L/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still no answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He groans, satisfied with the drink.

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs in satisfaction once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you hear him.

“Y/n?”

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

“Clark, hey. What’re you doing here?”

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

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

“Ah.” He nods.

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

“I was doing the same.”

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

“This late?”

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

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

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

Clark pretends not to notice.

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

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

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

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

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

Had he stayed this long for you?

“Clark…”

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

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

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

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

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

You turn to face him. “You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum before yawning lightly. “Makes sense.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

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

“I heard about what happened.”

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

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

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

You’re touched.

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

“I know,” He says. “But I care.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” You say. “Thanks, Clark.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

“Perry still giving you the Miranda treatment?”

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

“You do. Who’s your Emily?”

You both take a moment to think about this.

“I got nothin’.” You say.

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

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

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

It gets a good laugh out of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night.” He murmurs fondly.

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

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

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

Okay, that was a bar, Jimmy concedes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You must feel the same way. Right?

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

After some careful consideration, Clark comes to a conclusion.

“Okay.” He says.

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

“I’m going to tell her everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in.”

Clark pokes his head in comically.

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

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

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

His takes in your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get it together, Clark he warns himself mentally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You even did a celebratory squeal before containing yourself.

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

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

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

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

You stare at her expectantly, blinking.

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

“He is?” You say, hopeful.

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

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

“That was rhetorical.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blow air deeply, feeling yourself relax a bit. “I’m the baddest… bitch here and I know it.”

“Fuck yeah, you do!” She exclaims and you find yourself smiling, shaking your head at her theatrics.

You fucking love this girl.

“You got this, okay? Don't think too much, it'll feel natural once you let him talk.”

You feel like you’re about to get in the boxing ring with everything that could go wrong.

“Go get him, tiger!”

It's lunchtime and for the first time in history, you're not hungry.

You can't even think about eating out of anxiety.

You walk towards the mailroom and suspire when you go to twist the door handle.

You're immediately met with the dreamy pair of eyes you were hesitant to see.

You shut the door behind you, none of you want to be the one to move first.

“Hi.” He hums.

“Hi.” You say, equally as soft.

He clears his throat lightly and gestures you over, some sandwiches and sodas decorating the table.

“Panera?” You say with glee.

His lips pull back at your reaction. “Yup.”

You reign in your excitement, remembering why you came here in the first place.

“So.” You hint subtly.

“Sooo.”

You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes playfully at him. “Sooo, what'd you have to tell me?”

He clicks his teeth. “That's the question.”

You tip your head back and half-whine, half-laugh. “Oh my god, stop baiting me!”

Clark finds humor in edging you on like this, how often does he get to see you so highstrung?

“Okay, okay, alright.” He airily chuckles. “I'll stop.”

You blink patiently, the remnants of a grin on your face.

He soughs, building up the confidence to tell you how just much he feels for you.

“Okay.” He licks his lips, meeting your gaze.

He's caught, mesmerized by the way your attention is on him. He doesn't realize just how heavy his stare is until he watches you squirm.

“Clark..?” You call out to him thinking he's spacing out.

“Sorry.” He says on default, though he's not really apologetic for anything at all.

You're just so—

“Beautiful.”

Your breath catches in your chest and he's mortified.

“I, I just said that... outloud.” He stammers.

You watch him scramble for a way out.

“I'm sorry— not that you aren't beautiful, which you are. You so are.”

He cringes at himself and you hold back a simper, finding him so endearing.

“I just, um... Alright, here's the thing.” He claps both hands together softly.

“Mhm.” You nod, furrowing your eyebrows and to show you're just as serious about what he has to say.

“I... I have, uh— wait, no. That's not right.” He mutters to himself.

You come closer, standing right in front of him. “Clark.”

He looks down, stunned at your proximity and stops babbling.

“Just say it.” You coax gently. “Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work through it, together.”

Together. He thinks about the good ending, the one where you do end up getting together.

As you look up at him with those kind eyes, he feels everything he has to say come right out.

“I can't stop thinking about you.” He confesses.

You blink, startled by this even though you were expecting it.

“I like you, a-a lot, and I have so much to tell you.”

Clark's eyes flit between yours, desperately searching somewhere for you to feel the same.

He hears your heartbeat skyrocket, he feels your hands shake slightly from the adrenaline. The smell of your perfume thickens the air and he can't get enough. He can almost taste the color of your lips with how close they are.

He gulps, growing jumpy from your silence.

“Say something, please.” He whispers.

Another moment of quiet, not voluntarily. You're just trying to find the right words.

“I... I feel the same.”

That familiar megawatt smile graces his lips and you feel the tables turn, you in his previous postition and he in yours.

“I have for a long time.”

His eyes crease at that and he can't help the laughter bubbling out of him.

You laugh with him, not believing this is happening right now.

“You have no idea how long I've been holding that in.” He tells you, leaning on the table behind him.

“Not longer than me.” You suppose.

His eyebrows quirk up, silently asking you to go first.

So you do. “Since you started bringing me my daily dose of energy.”

He hums.

“Now, you.”

He looks at you with the fondest expression ever, you hold yourself back from kissing him stupid.

“Since my first day.” His voice thick with honey.

Your eyes soften and though he's won, you don't take this as a loss.

“Seriously?”

You don't mean to be so anticlimactic but how else does one react to feelings of romance being reciprocated?

As if Clark Kent couldn't get any more attractive, he takes your hand with the utmost care and rests it right on top of his heart.

“Can you feel that?” He asks while gauging your every little microreaction.

It speeds up gradually as your hand connects with the fabric of his shirt, pure electricity binding you together.

You nod, involuntarily fighting the tears you sense.

“Aw, don't cry.” He cradles your face in his hands and you close your eyes, overwhelmed by his affection for you.

“Come on, let me see you.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch your shy eyes.

When you finally do, he smiles so brightly that you swear it's like looking directly into the sun.

“There she is.”

You chuckle weakly, sniffling once.

He lets go of your face and can't resist the temptation of not touching your arms. He rubs them up and down a couple times, feeling goosebumps arise in their wake.

“Can I have a hug?” You ask, looking back at him through your lashes.

He feels his heart stop right there, that look sends him over the edge and you don't even know it.

Clark wordlessly leans down and pulls you in, his strong arms wrap around your waist comfortingly while you reach up on your toes.

You rest your head on his shoulder and feel your hearts beating under each other so passively, a sigh escapes the confines of both your mouths simultaneously.

Something about this feels like déjà vu, like you've been in a similar position.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Remember that conference I was supposed to go to in DC but got cancelled because the jet almost crashed?”

He pulls away with a straight face, hiding the absolute chaos unfurling behind those eyes. “Yeah..? Why?”

You look at the door then back at him. “I haven't told anyone about this but afterwards, Superman came by my place.”

“What? No way!” Clark gasps.

You nod cooly.

“So, what happened? What'd you guys talk about?”

You tell him how he stopped by to return your purse but something has been bugging you since. “I just don't know how he got my address.”

“Oh, that's easy.” He doesn't feel like playing this game anymore, too many sweats. “I know where you live.”

You’re perplexed and then some because what does that mean?

“What are you saying?”

He puts both hands on your shoulders and gives you a riddled look that says, Come on, think about it. You know what I’m saying.

A lightbulb turns on in your head but it can’t be. There’s just no way you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

You’re too flabbergasted to say a word. You just stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as you say it out loud.

“You’re… you’re— you,” You chuckle dryly, your head spinning a bit. “You’re Superman?”

He doesn’t give any indication of agreeing with you but his silence does.

Clark’s trying to get a read on you.

You then cover your mouth with both hands, muffling an excited ‘Oh my god!’.

He feels reassured.

“You’re Superman!” You whisper-scream.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He nods while checking the door to see anyone coming in.

You just stare at him in wonder, taking this all in.

It all makes perfect sense.

Who else would be selfless enough to protect those who can’t protect themselves? To have integrity is the most Clark Kent trait you can think of.

You know Clark has a big heart but this? This is next level.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He looks at you like the answer to that is simple, which to him, is. It’s always going to be simple if it involves you.

“I don’t want to start this on a lie.” He reveals as those damned blue eyes fixate on you.

You can fly right now.

He leans in ever so slowly, tracking any detail on your face that may give away the impression of not wanting him in your space.

When he finds none and is absolutely sure, he puts a hand on your cheek and asks, “Can I kiss you?”.

“Yes.” You sound softly and it’s as if a prayer has been answered.

Your eyes flutter shut and he parts his lips for you, you anticipate them to be just as soft and lush as they seem.

He believes he’ll finally be able to understand the languid nature of your mouth and decipher its meaning.

Sparks fly when you make contact, it strengthens the electricity that makes your chemistry.

The kiss is a breath of fresh air, the kind that blows in quietly; peacefully.

He’s sweet, undoubtedly so. His palms hesitantly splay across the curves on your waist. You smile at the soft touch and he does as well.

Your hands are on his chest and you can feel every pulse, flutter, and pang of his heart.

You think it’s poetic; the influence you have on his heart, both figuratively and literally.

He rests his forehead on yours and you look up at him from under your lashes.

He’s about to speak up when he hears something, something you don’t. His ears perk in the direction of the distressed sound and he turns his head apologetically.

“I have to go.” He regretfully informs.

You reach up to kiss his cheek and rid him of guilt. “When you come back, I’ll be right here.”

Clark hugs you once more and asks, “You’re my hero, you know that?”.

You chortle and respond with, “Is that Superman talking or you?”.

“Both.” He pulls back with a kiss on your hairline, winking at you with a cheeky grin.

He runs out the door and leaves you with the ghost of his touch and words that form a sappy smile on your face.

Superman may be the world’s hero, but Clark Kent is yours.

[kingkaisen]

“What? You’re married? And you’re a dad?”

Yuji finds out that 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 has a family. — same au as this ♡

Yuji Itadori wanted to know more about the world’s strongest sorcerer, who he was lucky enough to have as his teacher.

The two of them walked along the sidewalk peacefully after completing a bit of training.

As Yuji devoured his blue popsicle, his wide eyes stared at the side of his teacher’s face.

Despite the black blindfold covering his ocean blue eyes, Gojo could feel his student’s eyes on him for two minutes straight.

“I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into something yet,” Gojo spoke up, breaking the silence as he smiled slightly. “Why are you staring at me? Something on my face?”

“No, I just had a question I wanted to ask you — can I?” Yuji tilted his head a bit.

“Don’t be silly, of course you can. What is it?”

“There’s a ring on your finger.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, but his amused grin widened. Eventually, he said, “that’s not a question, Yuji.”

“I know, I know, I just . . .” Yuji hesitated. After all, discussing such a personal topic with someone as superior as Satoru Gojo could have been disrespectful. Even so, he took his chances anyway. “Are you married?”

“I am.”

“Really?” Yuji smiled excitedly. He tossed his discolored popsicle stick in a nearby trashcan, and continued his late afternoon stroll with Gojo.

“Yeah, I’ve been married for eight years. Our anniversary is coming up pretty soon, actually. Think I’ll plan some sort of trip.”

“Wow, that’s really cool! Who are you married to? Do I know ‘em? What are they like?”

Due to his unwavering grin, Gojo felt a burning sensation in his light pink, blushed cheeks. Thinking about you had always resulted in him smiling so much, his face would hurt.

“You don’t know her, but Megumi does. Her name is Y/N, and she isn’t a sorcerer anymore, just an ordinary person who enjoys ordinary things, and I love that more than anything. Our daughter is-”

“What?” Yuji suddenly halted his footsteps.

“Hm? Something wrong?” Gojo questioned as he stopped walking, turning around to face the shocked boy.

“You have a daughter? Like an actual kid?” Yuji paused. “How come you never mentioned any of this before? How old is she? I wanna meet your family! Why have I never met them?”

“She‘s four,” Gojo laughed softly, and started to resume his walk along with Yuji. “Guess I had no idea you assumed I had no family, but it’s fine, you can meet them anytime you want. Wanna see a couple of pictures?”

“Yeah!” Flashing a bright smile, Yuji eagerly waited for Gojo to unlock his phone and scroll through his photos.

After only a couple of seconds — as it didn’t take the older man any time at all to find a photo of the two most beloved people in his life — Gojo handed his phone to Yuji, showing him a recent picture of the three of you hanging out at the park.

“Oh man, is that your wife? She’s really, really pretty, and your kid looks like the perfect combination of you both! Well, I guess that makes sense because you’re her parents, but it’s like fifty-fifty! She has your eyes, but Mrs. Gojo’s hair . . .” Yuji zoomed in and out of the photo as he rambled on, even taking it upon himself to search Gojo’s photos for even more pictures. “No way, is that Mrs. Gojo and Fushiguro? Fushiguro looks so young!”

“Yeah, he was around seven years old at the time. Me and Y/N were just dating then, but I knew I wanted to marry her. Best decision of my life.”

“When can I meet them?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“Why do you wanna meet them so badly?” Gojo reached out and grabbed his phone from Yuji, who had started to scroll a bit too far.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Smiling, Yuji paused. “You’re kinda like family to me now, I guess. So, I wanna meet the people you cherish the most, ‘cause I wanna cherish them too.”

Gojo didn’t say another word. Not to Yuji, at least. Instead, he hummed with satisfaction at his student’s kind words, and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found yours.

“Hi, baby,” Gojo greeted you over the phone, “Would you mind if I bring a student of mine over for dinner? He really wants to meet you . . . he’s not allergic to anything . . . Okay . . . That works for us . . . Tell my muffin that I’ll be home soon . . . I love you more, bye sweetheart.”

“Okay, we-”

“Great! Which way is your house? Which way? Is it this way?” Yuji excitedly started to run off in no particular direction, and Gojo couldn’t help but laugh.

While Yuji said he simply wanted to cherish Gojo’s family, Gojo knew that it was a bit deeper than that. After all, as far as Yuji was concerned, he had no one. He craved the domestic nature of a loving family. He was all alone.

Once they made it to Gojo’s home, Yuji excitedly greeted you with a hug as if he had known you his entire life.

He adored your food, laughing and chatting at the dinner table.

He adored your home, carefully admiring your decorations and asking plenty of questions.

He was also kind enough to help out with the dishes, and play with dolls with your daughter afterwards, using silly voices as he truly got into the role.

And, later on, when he saw Gojo grab your grinning face and shower it with kisses, and his little girl happily run up to him as he picked her up, tickling her as she giggled, Yuji silently hoped that one day, he too would have a family just as loving.

But, he didn’t have to observe the happy family from a distance much longer, as, suddenly, you and Gojo waved the boy over, and wrapped your arms around him in a silly, loving, group hug.

And he felt loved.

— PART III —

[suiana]

80s yandere bully and reader who's more than eager to show him what it means to be a student in the current age.

it starts out like any normal day. you're at your locker, scrolling social media because you have nothing better to do while your friend yaps to you. all seems well, until it isn't. why? because there, in the middle of the corridor, stands a guy that looks like he belongs in some Disney movie. to be specific, he would most likely be casted as the jock bully.

pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes that look like they're staring into your soul, and that red varsity jacket that shouts peaking at high school...

"hey nerd! why don't you hand me all your lunch money?"

pause.

you look up, one eyebrow raised. wow, even his voice sounds like some stereotypical disney bully. you look around, trying to find the hidden camera. none. this... this youtube prank is kinda well made, you've got to admit.

"uh... double it and give it to the next person."

yeah, that should do it. you go back to scrolling your phone, feeling satisfied in your answer. mhm, that's right, it's probably just some stupid prank anyway.

but all you got was a mocking laugh and a hand coming up to cage you by the locker.

"what? what nonsense are you spouting dummy? I'm asking for lunch money! why don't you hand it over?"

oh... it, uh, sounds like he's serious huh? you awkwardly scratch at your neck, placing your phone into your pocket. hm...

seeing him closely, he does have some scratches and bruises. ah, you see.

"look man, I don't have any cash on me right now. do you accept cashapp? paypal? apple pay? i can send some money over. i know times are tough right now, with the economy and stuff."

he must be poor, that's what you deducted obviously. i mean, lunch money? you feel bad for him, he seems to be suffering more than you.

but if anything, he looks almost offended?

"what?" he gets into your personal space, teeth bared at you. "are you taking me for some joke, nerd?"

"aren't you like, asking for money? I'll give it to you. gotta hit my daily good person quota for the month."

"you-!" he hisses at you, cheeks turning a light pink. you're confused, lips pursing. well, he seems... that he doesn't need money?

"well since you're so smart... why don't you do my homework for me?"

he then shoves a stack of papers at you, face desperately trying to hide the nervous quiver of his lip. damn it...! what's going on?! he knows he travelled into the future but... but he didn't expect this! this... this arrogance! no one would've stood up to him back in his time! what on earth is this?!

unfortunately it's only getting worse.

"dude just use chatgpt, I don't have the answers to these. matter of fact, I don't even take this class."

his jaw tightens.

"so? do it for me! if you don't... well I'll just publicly humiliate you tomorrow!"

a snort.

"kinky, I'm into that just so you know."

he lets out a frustrated groan. what the hell? just... just what is going on?! he's trying his best to intimidate this... this awfully adorable looking nerd but it's not working at all! not in the slightest!

he's using all his best tactics but it's no use in the face of you. just what the hell do you want him to do?

"you're lowkey kinda a loser and that's my type. you wanna date?"

he swears he feels his heart stop. a... loser? him? this 80s bully quickly looks around, trying to figure out if you're talking to someone else or him. no one. he feels that tight knot in his stomach relax. just... something about hearing you date someone else makes him uncomfortable. jealous.

isn't that weird? he just met you. is this love at first sight?

"don't you dare call me a loser you nerd!"

"sorry my man, you just act like one."

he shoots a glare at you, hands fisting. calm down, don't show them how much they affect you. he pushes away after clicking his tongue.

"urgh! just you wait! I'll be back to show you who's in charge, nerd!"

and then he stomps off, leaving a trail of papers in his wake. damn, did he even realize he was doing this in a public server? there's so many people around.

meanwhile you're just left there with one question.

"so are we dating?"

[lovebugism]

Someone knocks at the door while you and rockstar!Eddie are fucking and instead of stopping he goes faster while yelling ‘In a minute’ to the person at the door

the one where your friends keep catching you and eddie having sex (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship, implied enemies to lovers, cw for smut 18+)

Let it be known, that it would take a nearly apocalyptic nuclear war — or something rapture adjacent, at the very least — for Eddie Munson to stop fucking you. Most people have learned this the hard way. You included.

You’re a panting mess beneath his pale, tattooed form. Eddie’s body, made of milky white silk, grows slick with a fine layer of sweat as he thrusts mercilessly into you. His curls sway around your face each time his lean hips collide with your open thighs. The dull clapping sound that fills the bedroom is punctuated by Eddie’s choked-back groans and your subdued whimpers.

The two of you always make it a point to be polite about your fucking — never quite as loud as you want to be, so as to keep from traumatizing your roommates. Like respectful adults. So it’s entirely Steve’s fault when he barges in with a halfhearted knock like a total psycho.

“Hey, do you guys wanna—” The boy freezes at the sight of his best friends, in a pile beneath the covers, who before now hated each other’s guts. His face screws together like he’s tasted something sour. “Jesus Christ…”

Eddie ceases his thrusts to toss Steve a look over his freckled shoulder. He never moves off of you, effectively shielding your naked body from his view, nor does he pull his stiff cock from your pulsing confines. Much to your horror.

“What?” the wild-haired boy wonders through labored breaths, face flushed red with sex.

“I was gonna ask if you guys wanted to come to the movies with me and Robin,” Steve answers with a roll of his eyes, already on his way out. “But you’re obviously busy—”

“Wait— That new buddy cop movie?” Eddie calls to the boy’s retreating form.

“Eddie!” you hiss through your teeth, filled with panic and distant pleasure, ‘cause the idiot’s trying to have a conversation like he isn’t balls deep inside you. He flashes you a wide-eyed chocolate stare like he’s innocent. “Stop,” you mouth to him.

“Yeah. Start’s at eight.”

“Well, don’t leave us, alright?” he tells him. “We’re coming.”

“Gross,” Steve mumbles and shuts the door behind him.

Eddie turns back to you. His curly bangs are damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead in places. His glowing cheeks are tinted a faint pink color. His lips are swollen and rosy as they curl into a smirk. Sex is written all over his face, painfully so. 

“That pun wasn’t intended, by the way—” Eddie jokes before you swat at his lanky bicep. “Ow!”

—————

A year or more later, you and Corrodded Coffin are selling out venues across the country. The world is a whole lot bigger than The Hideout, apparently. ‘Cause, as it turns out, more than just a couple of drunks care about seeing your band play. 

Somewhere down the line, you and the lead guitarist of said band are more serious about each other than you ever planned to be — much to the dismay of the rest of your bandmates. Not because they hadn’t spent years waiting for you guys to get together (they most definitely had), but because it was virtually impossible to have privacy while living on a tour bus.

Despite your feeble efforts to stay as subtle as possible, it’s dreadfully apparent when you and Eddie are fucking. The door to the bunks slides slowly shut, and Jeff and Gareth wait with walkmans over their ears until it opens again. This time, they flip a coin to decide who has to interrupt.

Gareth loses (‘cause Gareth always loses) and curses under his breath while he knocks on the closed door. 

“Do you guys want food?” you hear him ask over the heavy breathing in your ear. “That fancy ramen place across the bar just offered us dinner.” 

Meanwhile, Eddie Munson is riddled with post-show adrenaline as he all but fucks you stupid. His curly hair is as wild as his glassy eyes, now smokey around the edges with smudged black liner. He keeps his chest flush to your spine as he pounds into you with a primal sort of vigor — one ringed hand curled in your hair, the other gripping the plush of your hip.

“Nah, man!” he calls back, choppy through labored breaths, ‘cause he never stops thrusting into you. You’d be worried about the quiet clapping sound of his hips against your ass if your head weren’t so fuzzy. “We’re good!”

The promise of food reminds you that you haven’t eaten since earlier that day. Suddenly, you’re overcome with unexpected hunger and looming pleasure. 

“Wait, Eds,” you pant. “Food actually sounds really good right now.”

Eddie rolls his eyes in response, even though you both know he’s gonna give you what you want either way. First, a leg-shaking orgasm that you’ll in feel in your limbs for a half hour after it’s over. Second, all the damn ramen you can eat.

“Fuck, fine— Okay, we’re coming!” Eddie shouts. “Just give us, like, ten minutes, will ya?!”

Gareth grumbles faintly from the other side of the sliding glass door. “Yes, master,” you hear him grouse as he stalks off back to the living area of the tour bus — where it’s safe. 

A laugh rumbles in Eddie’s chest as he starts fucking into you again. You bury a whine into your pillow when his balls slap your clit. He presses his mouth to your ear, and you feel his lips curling into a lopsided smile there. “You call me that, and we’ll be outta here in thirty seconds flat, sweetheart.”

[thbbie]

༄ choso x f!reader

choso goes feral when hes eating you out.

a certified munch if you've ever seen one.

he's eager, it's so cute.

but choso can't help himself. not when he sees you spread out for him, not when he gets a whiff of you through your panties, not when he sees you smiling down at, not when you tug at his hair, not when you call out his name, not when -

but you've been working, for hours. tied to your desk with all that you had to get done and poor choso just wanted attention, to spend time with you, in you, to taste you, to hold you. but no. you wouldn't let him, brushing away his advances because you have other 'more important' things to get done.

he understands that he's a curse, but it can be so frustrating when his pretty (human) girlfriend gets so caught up in well, being a human. fulfilling the responsibilities you have in your human life and working to provide for your human self (and cutie pie curse boyfriend)

it isn't all bad, he loves taking care of you when you get home after a long day, he's so attentive and he knows you like that. what he cannot stand the most is when his poor darling has to work so hard while away from him and still have to work at home when she should be spending time with him.

it isn't a matter of selfishness. it's purely concern for you

and so he sets his plan in motion.

at first, he'd tried to coax you away from your desk and into bed, you could bring your computer! he just wants to be somewhere more comfortable, maybe the couch? but you quick shut him down, knowing yourself (and your loved) too well,

"no cho, i won't get anything done. we can cuddle and watch that show you started for as long as you'd like after."

plan a, resulted in failure. choso? he remains unfazed and entirely determined.

though also, at a complete loss.

so instead of sitting around twiddling his thumbs or plotting another plan doomed for failure he'll instead choose to sit on the floor next to you, resting his head in your lap. you give him a once over with a suspicious look in your eye, your tone warning, "choso."

"i know, i know" he says sadly, eyes down cast and fiddling with the material of your shorts, "your busy, i'll wait for you but i just wanna be near you baby. is that okay?"

his dark eyes look up at you sadly, so sincerely, oh how could you say no to something so sweet. you'll allow it.

you type away at your computer, stopping when your reading something l, revising your notes, every once in a while your hands would come down to card through his dark hair, stretching at his scalp while he purrs in your lap, fingers pausing their fidgeting. his hands dig into your soft thighs at the feeling of your nails on his skin, the action remains the same though the circumstances are different; the effect remains unchanged as well.

an uncomfortable stir in his pants, they get tighter and tighter as does the grip he has on your thigh, lost in his own world up until you yelp out at the pain of his grip. and oh as guilty as he feels for hurting you, that only encourages him. you sound so pretty, he needs more.

"mm sorry baby." he says when you shot him a glare, releasing your thigh from his strong grip, faint red marks left behind. he soothes them by running his hand over the skin gently, missing the feeling of your hand in his hair, of you in his mouth-

he peaks up at you again, almost shyly as if there isn't filth running rampant in his mind. his nimble fingers moving to play with them hem of your shorts, checking to see if you'll notice. when you don't, he slips them beneath the soft fabric, feeling the smooth expanse of your delicate skin.

choso moves from sitting next to you to sit between your thighs, shuffling around trying to get comfortable in the small space. his face is so close to your core under the cramped space of your desk, he can smell you. the dewy wetness of your prefect pussy. how long have you been keeping it from him?

he inches closer and closer to you, nose pressed against your core, obscured only by the thin layers of you panties and shorts. are you even wearing panties? his nose presses deeper into your softness trying to figure it out for himself. his conclusion? you were not.

what a teasing thing you are.

wet and sitting pretty without any panties .

choso clicks his tongue.

he pulls away, just barely, as he shifts around from between your legs, repositioning himself to get comfortable when suddenly he's yanked back by your hands in his hair. the hold you have on him is tight, stinging. just the way he likes it.

he'd almost forgotten the rest of you was there, so entranced by your cunt; the only part of his busy girl that would give him a lick of attention.

he speaks something against you but you don't hear it, muffled by your shorts and core. "mhmhhjm~" his words muffled by you as your thighs come over his shoulders, effectively caging him in .

choso knows what you want, and for a brief moment he contemplates punishing you, but ultimately decides against it. he's hungry, your punishment can wait. choso isn't selfish about anything in the world but your cunt.

he licks a broad strip, your wetness doing well in soaking through the flimsy shorts, but he spits on the mess before diving in, just for good measure.

he takes on of your hands in his own, holding you to keep himself grounded, to let you know he loves you. his other one busy gripping and groping your flesh, all that he can get his hands on. your just too pretty. they run over your belly and your thighs, your hips and your breasts, your arms and your calves. all of you.

he's everywhere. everywhere but directly where you need him.

he licked and prodded at your hole through the thin drenched fabric, easily finding you clit despite the dividing barrier and he sucks at it fervently.

"cho.. hah cho, please, i-i , mmm oh~ ineed, i need you baby."

your just so good. you taste so good. you feel so good. he feels light headed. you lean back in your chair to get a look at him, and oh the view. it's one you want tattooed and burned in your mind.

his thin brows pulled together desperately, nose deep in you with his eyes glossy and watching your body as it convulses and twitches from pleasure. smooth pale cheeks flushed red, his ears and neck too. he looks like he's the one being eaten.

when he catches your gaze he pulls away for a moment, revealing the bottom half of his face. completely slicked in you. covered in your essence, doing his best to lick it all, not wanting a single drop to waste away. you think you could cum at the sight.

over come with the need, choso pushes your chair out, so he can slip through and kiss you. it's messy an lewd and you can taste yourself on him. both of you panting into each others mouths, you own face not streaked with the mess he has on his.

choso grinds into you while he's away from four pussy, his hands at the side of your face and eyes closing desperately in the kiss. he holds you so tenderly, all his love and need spilling into it. from his eyes too. choso cries, into the kiss, warm salty tears slipping from his check and landing on yours.

he breaks the kiss, stilling his hips and just holds you for a moment; looking deep into your eyes. it's a lot, it's vulnerable and raw and that's choso. still panting, unable to catch his breathe, chasing it is fruitless so he says what he needs to without it, "i-i, hah h, i love you. i love you [name]. you're, hh~ the only thing i could ever, hahh, love."

he plants a small peck to your lips, short and innocent, because in the midst of you ravenous need for one another, in the midst of all the lust and longing for you, he still loves you sweet and tender. he holds your dazed gaze for a moment, as if to ensure his words have reached your feverish blissed out brain, and without another word, without waiting for your response, he dips back under your desk to breathe you in like it's the only air he wants to breathe. to lick and suck away at you through your shorts like it's the only drink he ever wants.

choso is insatiable when it comes to you,

successfuly bring you to that sweet high more times than you can count, ripping one after the other from you. sweet cries of his name spill form you like a fountain as he makes love to your pussy. he gives you breaks when your voice starts to break, kissing around the tender covered flesh, the delicate skin that peaks out of your shorts, teasing him, leaving behind markings of teeth and tongue.

and choso is in love with you, his hand never letting go of your own, intertwined together so deeply. but it's not only your hands or your bodies, his heart and his soul are tied to you. his mind and all that makes him himself. it is yours.

[sanjisleggy]

the warlord’s wife (dracule mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

i. 

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image. 

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day. 

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

[rinsnumber1fan]

Heyyy how about a Rin + Bachira + Kaiser thing where they become jealous because you told them that your first kiss wasn't with them (it was just a prank LOL) so they get extremely mad and all that shi?

YOU GOT IT BABE COMING RIGHT UPPPPP!!!

When you prank them by telling them they weren't your first kiss featuring: itoshi rin, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, sae itoshi

Itoshi Rin:

After having a small makeout session on the couch rin sighs, letting his tounge stick out slightly to relax, leans back with your thighs in his lap, and frame hovering over his because of your position, "You're not a bad kisser" He grumbled but he disguised it as a compliment.

A cute idea popped into your brain and your lips curled up to form the slightest of a grin, "yeah well I've had lots of experience soo.." You trailed off but he froze. You were shrugging and hiding your grin with a nonchalant expression. Rin paused "wait-.. what. Do you mean that I'm not the only person you've kissed?!" He asked hurriedly like he was worried or something, placing both hands on your shoulders. "Like- your lips have been touched by someone else?! Like- like someone had kissed them before i kissed them?!" He was... panicking.

"Yeah well that's what it means." You furrowed your brows. "Rin, you weren't my first kiss." He literally almost died. "What...?" He sighed, sulking into his place on the couch. "you were my first kiss." He confessed and you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. "What?? Really?? You were the school hot shot you know, you got like six million counted chocolates for valentines day?!" But he pouted, "I can't believe some guy had kissed you before me.." He clenched his fists.

You laughed out loud and planted a kiss on his cheek, "im just kidding baby you were my first kiss" you grinned, squishing his cheeks together and he looked up at you with those eyes, those cute, doe eyes "really..?" He said muffled. "Yes baby really." You babied his cute tone.

Michael Kaiser:

Kaiser was cooking some five star meal in the kitchen, flipping over the dumplings on the pan untill he feels a pair of hands around his waist from the back. Clinging to him like a lifeline. "What the fu-" he paused, turned, saw your pouty expression "......wanna eat?" He switched the topic quickly so u wouldn't notice he swore at you [u told him not to]

"Yeah I do" you titled your head "I wanna eat you~" Michael paused, cringed, "that was so cringe--" you smack his shoulder "just play along!!" He sighed and smiled slightly, placing a hand on your shoulder and leaning close "you wanna taste me?" He asked for confirmation and you noded quickly, pressing a kiss on his lips making his eyes wide for a moment before shutting them. "Not bad, Schatz. You're flirting skills are improving." He grinned and patted your head ruffling it. You chuckled, "of course they're good this isn't my first time flirting with someone." He blinks for a moment and bursts laughing "you for the love of God can not flirt." He said, "cut the lying." He continued adding more salt to the other pan.

You frowned "what? You think I haven't flirted with anyone before? Or maybe even kissed anyone other than you before?" He pauses the cooking. He actually pauses it. Puts the salt down and turns the pan to slow heat, head slowly turning towards you and before you can step back and tell him it's a joke, he has you pushed against the wall.

That expression.. its not normal. His eyes were angry but his expression didn't show it. He seemed like the calm before the storm, you gasped, "Michael! It was just a-" He leans towards you, kissing your lips swiftly, harshly and roughly less of passion more of trying to prove a point and your tounge struggled to keep up when his wheeled into your mouth. He kept it up for a while longer, exploring every inch of your mouth till you were breathless. And a muffled whine left your mouth, he assumed you asked him to stop so you could breath.

He pulls away slowly, a string siliva connecting the two of you, he glares down into your eyes, "still think someone else has kissed you before?" He asked you impatiently. And you licked your lower lip, "it was a prank!!! I'm sorry!!" You just hugged him, clinging to him like a koala and he blinks with a small sigh, "it's not okay-" "WEAHHHHH" "OKAY okay it's okay."

Bachira Meguru:

Bachira had dragged you to paint with him. His canvas placed up with different paints by your side, he had put pink colored paint over your cheeks. "Hey!!-" you frowned, grabbing yellow paint on your brush and splashing paint on his nose, laughing and he pouted "its only cool when i do it" He said as he stirred the paint colors together. You plant a small kiss on his nose painting ur lips yellow. Bachira blushes slightly but he giggles, "you have yellow on your lips!!" And you titled your head "really?!" You didn't notice when bachira leaned closer and sticked his tounge out licking the tip of ur lips making you gasp and he grinned "I cleaned it up" and you blushed furiously "you-you perv!" But he laughs "you get flustered so easy no wonder I'm your first kiss."

You blinked slowly and felt like throwing in a witty comeback but then you grinned "how do you know that?" You place both hands on your waist and lean forward. "Because I know you." You paused. "You're not my first kiss though." This knowledge sends him flying.

"No- haha. Nice joke!! You're joking, right? So weird lmaoookoko" but u only blinked and frowned "what? I'm telling the truth." He stammered "It's not funny-" "meg... I'm not joking."

There's a silence that erupts.

"Who was it..?" He asked, leaning closer.

"Oh!" You chuckled, "it was shidou." He literally pauses, his eyes aren't as they are usually not bubbly or cute or silly anymore. Just a little bit irritated or... jealous? It was fun watching him give those reactions

You sighed lightly "yeah.. he was like the best kisser ever- AH" He pins you down to the floor, with his hands on either side of your head. "You know that's really unfair," he said with a small sigh, his expression was somewhat unreadable. "That you get to say things like that like it's nothing.." He looked down at you his hair falling by his sides and that's when you laughed lightly and beep his nose "megs!!! It was a joke!!!" And he pouts "it better have been. Or else..." He mocked the action of a knife cutting through a man's throat. You would be suprised, he would actually do it.

Sae itoshi:

"You're a bad kisser." Sae said bluntly through the car ride to some fancy event he did NOT want to go to, but was forced to so he bought you with him, he was allowed atleast one person. You stare at him for a moment clearly offended by his blunt and random statement and then you decided.

I'm going to make his ass pay.

You laughed, it was fake but well you did it, mocking and as if you're looking down on him, "bad kisser huh?" You licked off the shades of red on your lips, "I've been told otherwise." You said to him, head no turning towards him but eyes turned left to the driving seat where his hands stirred the wheel

You earn an immediate scoff from him, "who? You haven't kissed anyone before me." Sae said, his eyes focused on the road without meaningless glances. Your gaze turned from left to the mirror over your head, glancing in it as you admired the make-up on your face. "That's just what you think."

He knew you were lying. So why did he feel this stupidly annoying and irritating pang in his heart?!

Sae huffed "you and your antics again." You smirked, playing nonchalant, "you don't even know who I kissed before you , it's kinda cute considering you know everything about me." It felt too real..

Sae wasn't nearly close to the destination, but he pulled over in some isolated alley. The engine was still on and the AC cooling hit his neck freely after unbuttoning a single button. "Tell me then. Who is it?" You paused for a moment, hesitated, if you told him it was a prank now he'd get mad and give you the silent treatment and if I didn't tell him he would get mad and give you the silent treatment.

There's no changing it.

So you went along with it.

You titled your head, a cocky smirk on your face, "aiku." You smiled feigning innocence. "Oliver Aiku." You completed, and you saw how his fingers clenched around the steering wheel, how his brows were more knitted together, how his gaze was rude and annoyed, how he wanted to punch the lights out of aiku. "So that's how you knew him?" Sae tried to act indifferent.

You smiled "yeah! Cool right? Though I never got the chance to tell you-" He pulls you in close, closer, closest, smashes his lips against yours and smudges your lips with his saliva "really?" He asked mid-kiss, "did he give you a real kiss? Or is this one... more vivid?" He pulled back for a split second only to lean back in to take in every last corner in 1your mouth but you protested "sorry!!! M'sorry sae!! I was just.. offended and sad that you said i sucked at kissing so I went ahead of myself." You pouted as you looked up at him with smudged lipstick around your lips. He sighed, "dont care" and he continues kissing you untill all your lipstick comes off.

Isagi yoichi:

He kissed you for the first time, in the middle of fireworks and a usually loud festival in Tokyo. Your cheeks turned pink and he giggled slightly, grinning like an idiot. "What?" You deadpanned and he smiled harder "that was your first kiss wasn't it?" He asked, leaning close with a happy smile.

You blinked.

Was my kiss that bad?

"Uh well..." you cleared your throat "nahhh I've kissed like.. a hundred men." He gasped, like a kid who just realized santa isn't real. "You're lying!!" He frowned, "tell me really, how many men have you kissed?" He leaned forward with a suspicious but curious expression. Even if he was the one who asked hed also cry if you told him - or kill the guy who kissed you [most likely scenario]. And you sighed in defeat, sulking in your yukata "one." You declared "well now two!" And he frowned "who else did you kiss!??" He panics "someone better than me?!" He asked you as he squinted his eyes at you and you laugh as he leans closer and closer, "I was kidding" you smiled looking into his eyes which seemed like looking into the souk of a puppy he leans forward and kisses you once again soft and passionate but with a smug grin "I know my girl won't kiss anyone else" He said, kissing your temple.

[meganegatari]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[bobbin-buckley]

Hi! Could you write some jealous gp!caitlyn headcanons? <3

G!P Caitlyn Kirammin Headcanons

G!P Caitlyn Kirammin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: G!p Caitlyn, basically just headcanons and smut but fluff too, jealous Caitlyn, all mentioned! breeding kink, public sex, praising, orgasm denial

Caitlyn

You

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

-To start off with, I’d say she’s packing a lot. She’s big. I would say at least seven inches

-For awhile Caitlyn never told you that she was ‘different’, than other girls for awhile even when dating. She didn’t want to scare you off or anything, honestly she was a bit insecure about her size. To you was it too big or too small?

-Now after having sex with her for the first time, you felt like you were on top of the clouds. With how big she was she could reach pretty deep in you

-When Caitlyn heard about your past dating experiences, she was pretty jealous that other people have dated you before her. So every time you guys have sex she’s all about making you hers, pounding deeper without thought

-Her hands grip your hips possessively when she makes deep thrusts, she wants to claim you.

-There have been times where she’s admit about wanting to breed you, which really turned you on

“Cmon baby, take it.”

“You can take this big cock right? Fuck you’re so pretty under me..”

“Maybe I outta’ stuff you with my cum, breed this pretty pussy.”

-When you both went to a party together for the first time, you were wearing a pretty revealing outfit that made her rethink the decision of bringing you to that party. She knew damn well other people’s eyes would be on you

-She was right. Lots of men and women were eying you, all dreaming to fuck you but Caitlyn would never even let them talk to you. She was surprisingly possessive, but you found it hot

-After a couple of hours at the party she couldn’t handle it anymore, it surprised you she waited that long.

-Throughout the party you had teased her, talked to other men and women. That bulge growing in her pants whenever you did something that turned her on. She hates it when you put on a show for others

-One time you nearly did a strip tease to someone else because you were drunk af, she dragged you away to a bathroom and fucked you out of jealousy. You’ll never forget that night

-Now after a night of you teasing her, making her jealous and desperate she’ll either fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, crying for her to stop. (Obviously she’ll stop once you give her the red light that it’s too much). Or she’ll deny every orgasm and have you make her cum instead

“Such a slut teasing me in front of everyone, you think you can just show off to everyone?”

“Mmhh…make me cum baby, and maybe…maybe I’ll let you cum too.”

-During a family meeting, you were talking with her mother for most of the time. It was very typical of Cassandra to be questioning you and talking with you the entire family party.

-She was jealous of how your attention wasn’t on her, thankfully she was wearing a dress so her hardening cock wasn’t visible. That’s how jealous and desperate she was

-Now you weren’t always the one being punished, she would get punished by you from being so impatient

-The first time that happened, you’ve never seen Caitlyn so…submissive. She may come off as a silly but concentrating woman when it comes to being an Enforcer but damn she’s honestly so hot as a bottom when she is

-Teasing her swollen tip as you tell her how bad she’s been, how she should be more patient next time.

-Your lips tease her tip too, licking it and chuckling when she whimpers for more

-Sometimes if you’re nice enough you’ll ride her but it becomes slowly and painful as you deny her orgasms when she’s close.

“See who’s the desperate slut now? How does it feel being denied?”

“Nuh uh, didn’t say you could cum just yet.”

“D-darling please…I-I’m sorry,”

“F-fuck…wanna cum so bad..”

“Not yet, cupcake.”

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

[mageofmadness]

PUPPY CALEB GOING INTO RUT

(2.1k) ૮˶- ﻌ -˶ა⌒)ᦱ nsfw [18+] includes: puppy!caleb, fem!reader, rut, knotting, slight a/b/o themes (kind of, not really), dirty talk, pet names, creampie and breeding kink, messy, wet, 'n sick as always. questionable puppy hybrid dynamics but it’s porn so the how doesn’t really matter, right?

caleb loves nothing more than being your mutt. your puppy boy.

he belongs to you, and by your side is where he’s meant to stay. if you’re somewhere, best believe he’s standing close behind with an arm around your waist or a hand on the back of your neck. he’s territorial, something others have picked up on and caleb felt bad about it until you admitted how much it turns you on. how much you love it. crave it, too. how much you don’t care about what everyone else thinks, and how jealous you get over others looking at and admiring what is yours.

the chain around his neck might as well be a collar with his owner's information on it, and he never misses an opportunity to show you who he belongs to.

sure, you tease him sometimes for his inclinations. caleb can’t help it though—that he can smell when you’re sweetest and your body needs him the most. when he can sense how wet you're going to be before his fingers ever find your needy, little clit. every month, towards the end of the last week, he finds himself waking up and calling off work. caleb lets them know he won't be in for a few days, and he shoots off a text to your work as well, letting them know the same thing on your behalf.

[7:21 am] i’m so sorry, i’m feeling under the weather and am not going to be able to come into the office today. i’ve got a doctor's appointment later and will send you an update with what they say.

caleb is sensitive when going into rut. he needs you here, by his side, and you cannot stray.

he always has a bit of lingering guilt, looking at you curled up in bed. sweet and innocent, asleep in one of his old t-shirts and a raggedy pair of underwear from ages ago. soft skin that stretches for miles and fading bruises from the past week on your thighs and hips. you look so…precious. small. docile and perfect for him. it makes spit collect in his mouth, even more so than usual.

sometimes, he can’t help but fall back asleep, waiting for you to get up. if he’s lucky, caleb rouses later to you petting his ears. your fingers combing through his hair, brushing over the scruff of his neck, and all of it makes him shiver. caleb wakes from sleep hot and hurting, near drooling and whimpering from the ache trapped in his sweatpants and the way your fingers dance where he’s most sensitive.

you always ask if he wants to play, always ask what he needs, and the way caleb buries his head in the crook of your neck, rutting his aching cock against your hip, tells you enough. you sigh, turning around in bed and slipping your hand into his boxers.

caleb can’t help but bite.

he tries to be gentle, he really does, but when your warm fingers are wrapped around his cock and you’re letting him sloppily jerk his hips, he can't help but groan. he can't help but growl, low in his throat, as sticky pre-come slides over your knuckles.

caleb can’t help that he likes when his owner scolds him. says, in that tone of voice you get, “no biting, don’t make me get the leash.”

“bad dog.”

he whines. caleb hates the leash and the way it keeps you from him. the way he comes so hard when it’s wrapped around his throat and you tug just right as he spills inside of you. it’s pathetic, but how else is he meant to show you that he’s yours? what better way than to let you use the leash to bury his cock that much further into your pussy, kissing your cervix and using him however you see fit.

“m’a good dog,” he pants, begging for you to understand. “m’sorry baby, i–i can’t help it. i promise, ngh. wanna be your good boy, please.”

“i need to fill you up…fuck you sloppy. oh fuck.”

caleb can hardly breathe when you turn around, letting the blankets fall so he can see the way you present for him. knees in the mattress, back arched and ass up. he swallows, yanking your underwear down and tossing it away.

“show puppy where you want it, baby. m’too dumb to remember. need to know where you want it, sweetheart. show me your little hole.”

he watches in awe as you move to spread yourself. giving him a perfect view of your tight holes. caleb moans, excitement making him shake from how you’re going to look after he’s done with you. swollen and over-sensitive. red and slick from the abuse of his cock stretching you open and apart for hours. he runs a hand over the small of your back, squeezing your waist before he can’t help himself any longer and slips a single finger into your pussy.

feeling how wet you are, how needy you are for him. how one finger doesn’t seem to be enough. caleb leans closer, letting his breath ghost over your fluttering hole as he tugs it open. he fits another finger inside, spreads them wide and feels you shake. inspecting your perfect pussy, still just as perfect, to make sure it’s ready for him.

“you're so good to me, thank you, honey. so good for puppy. ‘m so, so lucky,” his words trail off as he plays with your sticky mess. seeing how far he can stretch you open before you whine and start to writhe. “always make puppy feel so good, can i make you feel good, sweetheart? please?”

“where do you want it?” he asks, brushing his thumb over your other hole. pawing at you as he bites his lip, knowing the first day of his rut is too rough. he can’t. caleb often loses himself, and he doesn’t want to hurt you with how wide he’d like to stuff every hole you have. how bad he wants to watch your tight ass take his cock. he knows it would feel like heaven.

still, he asks, “which hole, baby? c’mon, tell me where you need it.”

“m’pussy,” you whimper, pressing back into his prodding fingers.

“here? like this?” caleb asks, rutting his sticky pre-come mess against the back of your thighs, groaning when the tip of his cock catches on your cunt and you jump. “how does my girl want it?” he asks, leaning over and crowding you, whispering into your ear. “tell me, baby. you know i’ll give you whatever you want. anything you need, honey, it’s yours.”

caleb’s favorite thing is the lip you give him right before you slip under. right before you give in to the thick weight of his cock that’s too deep, when you’re meeting his thrusts, greedy about every inch of him and how it’s yours. how it’s only meant to be buried deep inside of you, driving you wild and dirty.

“h-harder,” you demand. “don’t tell me you dont know how to use that puppy cock.”

it always turns to begging in the end, though.

depending on how well he fucked you the night before and how sensitive you are from that. how well you slept or how much you feel like being a brat today. caleb lives for the moment he feels your hips settle, when there’s no resistance as he slams his cock into you over and over and you take it like such a good girl. the best girl. the sticky sound of your pussy wanting this so much it’s dripping onto the sheets. it drives you crazy but that’s when he loses himself, too.

when you’re babbling and whimpering. praising him, “m–my good boy. such a good boy, so–so good for me. p–please, hngh. please, can i come? i cant…i–i cant—”

he lives for your praise. he’d die by it.

“you take it so well, fuck. so good. wish…wish you’d let me let me knot you,” caleb pants. letting the fantasy take hold. he’s dreamed of it, but as much as you beg for it, he doesn’t want to hurt you. but right now, “oh, fuck. please, can i? know you can take it. it would feel so good sweetheart, please let me. please, please…i need it.”

you give in, immediately clawing at the sheets when you feel him begin to swell. caleb starts to feel the resistance and can’t help but curse, watching the filthy sight before him. your cunt struggling to take what he has for you, the way it stretches and you whimper but cannot help but fuck back, trying to swallow his knot whole.

it’s a tight fit and it looks like it hurts, but the way you beg for more makes him see stars and the look he sees on your face when you glance back, blindly throwing a hand behind you to search for him, teary-eyed and gone but no less determined to take it, is beautiful. you’re beautiful, from the blush on your cheeks, the sweat sticking to your skin, all the way to the thighs that shake from the stretch.

when his knot pops inside, when caleb feels it settle inside of your warm walls, twitching and coming around him, caleb actually loses his mind. 

“fuckin’ made for this, look at that. you took it so easy, honey. should have known it would fit perfect, you’re my princess after all, huh?”

“you want more? i think you do. sounds like you do, baby. wish you could see what ‘m seeing right now. don’t know if this pussy will ever be tight again.”

caleb's voice is rough as he whispers in your ear, "that's okay, though. good thing i like you like this, hm? i love it when you're a messy girl and oh, don't cry baby. 'm right here, yeah? right here, you feel me?"

you’re gone, and caleb does what he does best—takes care of you. he presses his chest to your sweaty back, protects you from the world as he fucks into you hard and fast. like an animal. unable to move too much from being locked by the knot, it bullies against your swollen cervix with every thrust.

“we just need to fill you up, see?” he pants, feeling the way your walls milk him as he swallows his groans. as he bites down the need to use teeth. caleb kisses away tears as they fall down your cheeks. “can you be good and take it all for puppy? yes? oh, it feels good? fuck, hah, baby. you have no idea. i…i—“

“not a drop—i don’t want a single drop to spill from this pussy, you hear me?”

“I know, i know. you’re all stretched open and sloppy, but you can do that for me, can’t you? it’s all for you, baby. please, hngh, oh fuck. take it. there you go baby, yeah. squeeze and tighten up. no messes.”

when he finally spills inside of you, when he feels his come settle deep in your cunt, right where it needs to be, caleb is out of breath and burning hot. 

“s–so tight,” he hisses. “being so good for me, sweetheart. shh, im almost done, just a little longer. i’ve got a little bit more for you, baby. you’ve gotta take it...need you to take it f’me.”

“no, no,” he tsks when you start to squirm. “no moving or it won’t stick, princess.”

“good princesses let their puppies fill them up, right? they let them breed them full. you’re so good to me, baby. so good letting me take care of this pussy when i need her.”

caleb loves letting his cock hold you down, buried to the hilt as you sigh and clench from the overuse. moaning about how it feels so good. so warm and thank you and when you panic the moment he goes to pull out, whining like a bitch in heat for the cock that just ruined you, he can’t help but laugh softly.

caleb licks and bites, taking the time to sneakily nip at your skin when he can finally pull all the way out. his cock gives a pathetic twitch at the sight of your hole. sticky and drooling, too. fluttering, trying to close around nothing, and certainly not as tight as it had been that morning. gaping slightly.

caleb traces a gentle finger around the rim as he places a kiss on your lower back, feeling you jolt. he watches as his come slowly begins to dribble out over his fingers, and sighs.

“i told you not a drop, baby. what’s all this drooling out of your pussy?”

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 226.171.198 245.214.227

[redcreekheart]

Nsfw alphabet w Remmick!

After a long wait is finally here lmao

@fuckoffbard you told me to tag you lol

Warning: female!reader, mention on blood

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Remmick is a passionate lover who enjoys the art of making his sexual partners rely on him for guidance and affection.

He praises them afterwards and stays for a bit to keep them attached and make them feel wanted. But that's about it.

Now, with his true love, the one he absolutely cares about and it's not just another follower. Well, Remmick would do whatever is in his power to make them feel utterly adored.

He showers them in love and praise, soothing the pain away from their limp body, peppering kisses all over their skin as he cleans them from the sweat and cum (even blood) that was smeared all over their sore body.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Remmick loves your entire body, but he pays so much attention to your legs it's crazy.

He loves to kiss them up and down, nibble on your thighs and grope your ass as he's eating you out.

Remmick loves everything about them.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Can vampires even cum? Idk but Remmick likes to cum deep inside you and make you take every drop of it. He likes to fill you up to the brim, fucking his cum back to you if it starts to ooze out and praise you for being such a good girl for him.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Remmick has nothing to hide sexually, he's an open freak and has no shame.

However if we had to say something, Remmick loves to play with his food. He has a hunger for blood, yours smells so good and it makes him want to sink his teeth deep into your skin and suck you dry, but he waits.

He doesn't do this with other humans, Remmick lures them and drinks every single drop of blood their body has to offer. But you're different.

He keeps you around, he gets off on the edge, to have a bit of you but no whole.

He loves when you get your period because he gets to taste you completely, a little treat to ease his hunger. But he's waiting for the day he gets to devour you without mercy.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He knows what he's doing, alright? This man got 100 years and more of experience (both of his own and people he has transformed) up his sleeve and he's ready to show off and rock your world.

F= Favorite position

Legs over his shoulders or pressed against your chest where he gets to thrust deeper into you, it's perfect. He loves watching you fall apart underneath him, crying out his name as he pounds into you.

If you're a human (his little toy) he's going to nibble in your flesh, not enough to fully dig his fans and make a feast out of you, but it's so fucking tempting and he's drooling like a starved man which adds to the excitement of everything.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Remmick is charming and he can crack a few jokes here and there, however, in sex I feel like he's playful and alluring. He isn't funny, but he's not dead serious either.

He's keeping you on your toes for sure.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Remmick is hairy, perhaps nothing too wild, but he's not bald down there. You see, the road is lead by some chest hair that goes down to his happy trail and dies with a nice patch of hair where his dick stands.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Remmick is a hungry man ready to take his prey, he's not exactly kind. His poundings are rough and dirty, he wants- no, he needs to claim you as his over and over again and will be vocal about it.

Can he be sweet and romantic? Sure, you're his pretty little thing, he wanna makes you feel good.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Remmick doesn't really do it, he got you for that. However, if he does jack off is to tease you, to make you watch as he pleases himself until you're begging to get a taste.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Breeding kink, perhaps even a pregnancy kink too: Look, Remmick loves claiming you as his over and over again and the thought of making you all swell and round with his babies is way too tempting for him not to do it.

Honestly I believe that he's a family man, he wants to have one and he also likes the process of knocking you up.

Also dominance, he's not aggressive about it, but he wants you to rely on him fully and obey what he says.

Blood kink as well, he loves to make it pour out of you and lick it off your skin. Whenever you get your period he's a happy man.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

He doesn't care as long as he got you, however, I feel like he would get such a thrill for public spaces.

Perhaps it's not blown out sex, just teasing, running his hands on your body, whispering the dirty things he wants to do to you once he gets you alone.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

You relying on him for whatever reason, it makes him feel needed and God it turns him on so much. He loves when you come asking for help, when you get flustered when he praises you, when you let him lead you.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Share you. You're his and only his and he would be damned if he lets somebody else be with you, Remmick is greedy and he knows it.

You're the only good thing keeping him grounded and with a sense of belonging, he's not losing that.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

HE'S A MUNCH you cannot tell me this man doesn't love eating pussy, he said it himself lmao.

He's so goddamn good at it too, all that pent up knowledge inside his head working as he sucks on your pussy, licking and fucking his tongue and fingers. Remmick got you seeing stars.

As for a blowjob? He's not telling you no lmao, he appreciates his baby wanting to please him and will praise you for it, guiding your pretty mouth as he takes a hold of your head, he makes so many lustful sounds that'll make you drip.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

The duality of man, he doesn't care if it's fast or slow, he can go either way really.

Remmick is a little rough though, passionate with the goal of reminded you who you belong to with each thrust, however, it doesn't have to be all fast. He can be slow, making you get lost in the pleasure and roll your eyes back in pure bliss.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

If there's no time then he's gonna suck it up and take what he can, however, Remmicks prefers to take his sweet time with you.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Absolutely yes, Remmick doesn't shy away from a challenge and, even though he had done a lot of things in his life, he's down to try them with you as long as you're in for it as well.

Sure, he might be a little persuasive, but he still wants you to enjoy yourself so he doesn't push too much.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Remmick can last as long as you want him to, he got that vampire stamina going on and he's not stopping after just one round.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

I doubt Remmick had access to any toys, but if he did, he for sure would be down to use them on you. I told you he's a freak.

Remmick takes pleasure in watching you come apart by his hand, he got the power and the decision on how things would go even if he's laid back watching you masturbate with some dildo or whatever.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

HE'S A TEASE, this man got a dirty mouth and does the most nasty things that makes your knees wobbly, but he's gonna make you beg for it.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Remmick is pretty vocal, he wants you to know he's enjoying what you're doing, he moans and grunts and talks you through it all the way till your cumming.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

He loves watching you be stained in blood, it's such a nice view for him.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Slightly bigger than average (that thing hits his stomach when it's hard, go figure), thick and veiny.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

I would say it's fairly high and he's ready to fuck whenever you asked him to, listen, Remmick wants to have a good time with you, away from problems and doubts. The only thought he wants to have is how good you feel

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Does Remmick sleeps at all? He might a little tired if anything, but he's not sleeping anytime soon. He keeps you close, letting you rest your head on his chest as he got an arm tightly wrapped around you, lazily caressing your hip as he kisses your head.

You can talk about sweet nothings, about how things were back in his days and what you guys wanna do now in the present.

It's calming and he loves it.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

☆ ａｌｗａｙｓ， ｆｏｒｅｖｅｒ ☆

☆ Pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!wooyoung x chubby!fem!reader

☆ Genre: rocker au/smut/fluff

☆ Word Count: 3.3k

☆ Summary: You and your boyfriend are infamous for being the wildest couple on the rock scene. You do what you want, when you want. You live to raise hell and neither of you are showing any signs of stopping. At least not until you miss your period and it becomes abundantly clear that the party's about to end. So far you've done well keeping it a secret from Woo but the truth has to come out some day and when it does, will he still be standing by you?

☆ Warnings: you're 100% pregnant, reader has a lot of worries about it, breeding kink, mommy/daddy kink, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, pain kink, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names (baby, princess, mommy, daddy), a smidge of angst, a lil man handling, body worship undertones, wooyoung in a crop top (❤️), gets real lovey dovey.

☆ A/N: I'm on a rocker boyfriend thing lately. It's my soft spot. I can't help it. I just wanted some sweet rocker boyfriend Woo being all soft for his girlfriend so here we are. As always, I hope you enjoy reading, my loves.

All that make up,

But it couldn’t hide her fears.

All that beauty,

But it couldn’t stop the tears…

The lyrics to one of your boyfriend’s songs. They loop in your head like a broken record as you lean into the bathroom mirror, swiping another layer of mascara across your lash. 

The curtain’s up,

They’re all waiting for you now…

Perform. That’s all you ever do anymore. Your friends think it’s cool dating a rockstar. Sex. Drugs. Rock N Roll. It’s exciting, it’s glamorous, it’s exhausting, and—courtesy of the plus sign on that little test tucked away in your makeup bag—it could all be over.

You and Wooyoung have never talked about living a traditional life together. Marriage, kids, white picket fence. PTA meetings and Sunday dinners. You partied. You got wasted. You wrecked shit and loved every minute of it. So does everyone else.

Wooyoung's friends compliment you on the regular for your ability to keep up with him. “No other girl’s ever matched his crazy the way that you do” they say, “He usually chases them all off by now.” 

But you? You stay. Not for the money or for the fame, simply because you love him more than words can express. No man’s ever been so sweet to you, so endlessly passionate. Late at night when you’re all alone he whispers to you that you’re his world. That he could never do any of this without having you by his side.

But what about the baby growing inside of you? Would he love that too or would it be a threat to the lifestyle he’s accustomed to? The thought twists your stomach in knots. There’s no time for this now. The album release party for Wooyoung’s band is in an hour and everyone will expect you to be there with bells on, ready to be the source of another wild story they can tell over breakfast in the morning. 

Turning the music up on your phone, you pluck a tube of red lipstick from your bag, puckering your lips to dab it on. If you can’t silence the voices in your head, the least you can do is drown them out. 

“You plan on getting dressed anytime soon or you going to the party in a towel?” Wooyoung teases, leaning in the doorway to watch you. 

You roll your eyes, too busy putting on the finishing touches to spare him a glance. In truth you can’t bear to look at him. It’s sorta like how Wonder Woman has her lasso of truth. Wooyoung has this way of looking at you—into you—and your lies crumble every single time. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Maybe. I might be trying something new.” 

Wooyoung sneaks up behind you, lacing his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, softly kissing your neck. “Whatever you wanna do, babe. You know I think you look gorgeous in anything. Plus it’ll be easier to take off later.” Flashing you a playful grin, he eases your towel up, squeezing the lush meat of your thigh. 

“Woo, stop it!” you snap, pushing his hand away, “I need to get ready so can you just not?”

You watch his smile drop, your words cutting him like knives. That rumor that artists are sensitive? It’s more than a rumor, it’s a fact, and exhibit A is your boyfriend. You never reject his affection. All he’s ever known from you is warmth but tonight you’re ice cold, your body tensing rather than giving into his touch. 

Wooyoung backs away, studying you the way a detective might a suspect. “Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re just paranoid.” 

He clicks his tongue, observing the subtle clues in your reflection. Your bottom lip’s quivering, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You keep looking up…down…away. You’re running from him without taking a step. 

“Can you just look at me for a second?” he asks, the sweetness of his voice betraying the sharpness of his gaze. 

You take a deep breath, tossing the lipstick aside. Gripping the edge of the counter, you do as he asks and stare into the mirror, your eyes locking in an instant. Your beautiful boy. You’ve always admired how he can manage to be so masculine and feminine at the same time.

And it’s not just in the way that he can make a crop top and a pair of jeans look like the toughest fit on earth. It’s in the way he carries himself. Rugged yet gentle. Vulnerable yet strong. You wonder if your baby would take after him in that way. Would he want it to? That’s the question that really eats you up inside. Would he want it? Would he want you?

Tears roll down your cheeks, streaking through the foundation you so painstakingly applied. A sound leaves you that you’ve never heard before. A slow, pained whine that comes from somewhere deep in your chest. You turn to face him and he takes you into his arms, making you feel safe in a way that only he can. 

“I’m sorry” you sob, face buried in his chest, “Everything’s fucked now and it’s all my fault.” 

Wooyoung has only seen you cry a handful of times and he swears it breaks him everytime. “Hey, don’t say that. Nothing’s fucked. If something’s wrong we can fix it but I need you to talk to me.” He cradles your cheeks, tilting your head up to get a good look at you. “You know you can never do anything wrong in my eyes, don’t you? If you needed me to help you bury a body I’d ask for a shovel. I need you to understand that.” 

He means what he says, you feel it in your heart, but you can’t bring yourself to utter the words. They form on your tongue and die there as if by not saying it you can stop this from being real. Grabbing your makeup bag, you shuffle through the contents until you find it—the secret your lips can’t fix themselves to bear. The bag falls to the floor, contents scattering at your feet, and all that’s left is a test that you hold with the fragility of a bomb. 

Wooyoung squints down at it, unsure what it is you’re holding at first. When reality hits him it knocks the air from his lungs. He’s jumped off of stages, hung upside down from ceilings, but none of it ever came close to this.

“Are you telling me you’re…”

“Pregnant” you sigh, “I missed my period so I thought I’d check and, yeah, according to six different tests I am.” 

A tense silence dances between the two of you and a part of you wishes that he’d get it over with already. Reject you. Say he doesn’t want it. That he didn’t sign up for any of this. It’ll tear you apart but at least you’ll know. 

Wooyoung rests a hand on your belly, rubbing it through your towel. His expression’s unreadable at first but ever so slowly his lips curve into a smile, “So there’s a little me in there? A little us? And you thought I’d be upset?”

“Aren’t you?” you sniffle, fingers trembling around the test. “You have the tour and your promotions. You’re in a different city every week. How does this fit into that?” 

Wooyoung takes it from your hand, setting it aside, “Give me one second. Don’t move.” 

“Woo…”

“Don’t move!” he shouts, disappearing down the hallway. You hear a door open and the faint sounds of shuffling. “You always say how impulsive I am and you’re right, I guess there’s some things I could think about more, but I’m not impulsive with everything.” He rushes back into the bathroom, arms hidden behind his back. “Some things I think about a lot and this is one of them.” He drops to his knees in front of you, revealing a small black velvet box in the palm of his hand. “I was gonna do this onstage this summer but the bathroom floor’s just as good, isn’t it?”

You wipe the tears from your eyes just in time to get a crystal clear view of him popping the box open. Inside sits a pear shaped diamond ring on a silver band sized perfectly to fit your finger. It’s the shiniest, prettiest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on and you can’t even begin to process that it’s for you. 

“You’re right” he says, removing the ring from the box, “I do have the tour and the promotions. I am in a different city every week but when you’re with me it always feels like I’m home and I want that for the rest of my life…with both of you. So would you maybe, possibly think about marrying me?” 

The tears are falling again but this time from an overwhelming sense of joy. One that blooms somewhere deep inside and spreads to every corner of your body. From the end of the world to the rest of your life? It’s enough to give you whiplash. 

“I’ll marry you” you manage through the tears. You hold your hand out and Wooyoung slips it into your finger. It slides into place like it was destined to be there. The missing piece to a puzzle that’s slowly been coming together since the day you met. 

Never in a million years did Wooyoung imagine you’d say yes. At the same time, he couldn’t even begin to picture a world where you didn’t. How could you ever think that he wouldn’t want a life with you? The man who has a stack of notebooks filled with songs about you. Crowds of thousands scream his name every night but the only voice he hears is yours. Your smiling face always waits for him at the edge of the stage and he looks at you now the same way he did then. Like the whole world centers on you. 

You blink and his lips are at yours, your body pressed against the edge of the sink as his tongue intertwines with yours, deepening the kiss. He kisses you patiently…carefully, reveling in the taste of you as if for the first time. His fingertips skim your exposed thigh and this time you don’t dare push him away, a hum of pleasure leaving you as he ventures further inward. 

“I look insane right now” you say, your awareness suddenly brought back to the wrecked state of your makeup. 

Wooyoung laughs, trailing lipstick stained kisses down your chin, “I don’t know, I kinda like this whole Joker thing you’ve got going on.”

You gasp at his audacity but crack a smile despite yourself. “Oh, fuck you” you say, swinging your knee up to hit him right where it hurts. 

Catching it just in time, he holds your leg at his waist, spreading you open to stroke your pussy beneath your towel. A hushed moan flows out of you and his mouth is right back at yours, eager to catch it. 

“I’m just messing with you. You’re beautiful” he whispers, his tongue peeking out to lick your lips. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

His fingers slip between your velvet folds, closing around your clit until you make that one special noise that lets him know he has you. It’s not quite a moan, not quite a whine. Some melodic combination of the two that’s music to his ears when it finally breaks from you.

Heat pricks at your skin like you’ve stepped too close to a fire and you melt for him, all over his fingers. In a matter of seconds you’re dripping wet, painting his fingers in your glistening arousal. You shiver at the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your entrance, teasing you by pressing in the slightest bit before pulling away. 

Wooyoung leans in, breath skimming your neck to give you goosebumps. “You’ll make the prettiest mommy. I’ve always thought that about you. How absolutely radiant you’d look with my baby inside you.” 

His confession turns you on. You don’t need to admit it. Your body speaks for itself. Walls clenching around the tips of his knuckles. Nipples stiffening against the soft cotton. Your heart’s beating like a hammer and it only worsens when his fingers ease into you.  

“I wanna hear you say it. Say, ‘I’m gonna make the prettiest mommy’” he instructs, the smooth rotation of his wrist too hypnotizing to resist. 

“I…I’m gonna make the p-p-prettiest mommy” you stutter, grasping at the marble counter behind you to keep from falling. 

Wooyoung pushes his fingers deep into you, guiding you up onto the counter as the pad of his thumb circles your sensitive clit. Resting his forehead against yours, he pumps his fingers in and out of you, soaking your thighs in your essence. 

“Hmm, I don’t think you mean it. Make me believe you, baby.”

Your nails tear at the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto, “I’ll be the prettiest mommy. The prettiest…mmph…mommy.” 

Your back hits the mirror, lashes fluttering away stars as he takes you by the neck, drawing you into another breathless kiss. Wooyoung drags his fingertips across your sweet spot, the muscles of his toned arm flexing the faster he pumps your needy core. 

“Can you be a doll and do me a favor?” he asks, making it sound like any old request. 

“Honey, pass the salt.” 

“Can you hand me the remote please?”

You nod, it’s the only thing you can do when your walls are sucking the nail polish off his fingers. Sliding his hand down to the top of your towel, he gathers the material in his fist, tugging it away from you. 

“Hold my hair.”

It’s the last thing he says before his tongue’s at your clit, his free hand reaching up to palm one of your supple breasts. He pinches your nipple—tugging, rolling—all with the perfect amount of pressure to make you clench even tighter. You push the hair back from his face, loose strands framing his sharp features as he leans his head back to gaze up at you.

His tongue’s flicking and curling, a grin painting his face at the bliss radiating from yours. He blows a cool breath against your pussy and a chill skates up your spine. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging it right from the scalp. 

“Pull it harder, mommy” Wooyoung groans, slurping at your cunt between every word. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

You pull as hard as you can, nothing held back. You’ve all but scratched your name into this man’s back before. You know better than anyone else how devastatingly hard pain gets him. His cock is throbbing, the need to have you invading every thought that creeps its way into his mind.

Having you but not having you. Tasting you on his tongue but not having you wrapped around his cock. It’s heaven and hell but it’s worth every conflicting feeling to see you hit your peak, hips rocking into his face for more as you come down his hand. 

Rushing back to his feet, he undoes his pants with one hand—the other still occupied by your spasming walls. You claw at his wrist, fighting to push him back. He’s far too deep. The pleasure’s too much. You’re falling apart and you can feel it, piece by beautiful piece. Wooyoung drags you to the edge, his cock springing free to replace his soaked fingers. You’re still coming when it slams into you, every thick, hard inch pulsing in all those places his fingers couldn’t reach. 

“Woo, too much. I can’t…” you whine, the added stretch dragging your orgasm out even further.

He pouts, feigning sympathy, “But princess, look how good you’re coming for daddy. It’s a wonder how I didn’t get you pregnant sooner when you take my cock so well.” 

“You’re supposed to be a nice daddy.” 

Cupping your cheek, he brushes his thumb along your bottom lip making it shine with your arousal. “I am a nice daddy. Don’t you feel nice right now?” 

Nice is not the word for what this feels like. Ice cream cones are nice. Walks on the beach are nice. Wooyoung bouncing you on his cock until your ears ring isn’t nice. It’s fucking earth shattering. 

“Feels so nice, daddy. So…mmph…so nice.” 

His hands find your sides, massaging the contours of your figure, and he can’t help but dream of all the ways your body’s about to change. He’s already in love with your body. Every stretch mark. Every curve. But to see you swell up with his baby? To feel how much softer you’ll get—how you’ll glow—it makes him feral.

Every thrust into your plush walls is amplified by a thousand. Warm pearls of precum meld with the remnants of your last orgasm making it slicker. Juicer. The sound of your bodies meeting is borderline filthy and you couldn’t pay him to stop. 

“I want you forever” he says, fingertips ghosting your belly, “I want this forever.” 

You take his hand, kissing his palm. He’s doing that thing where his eyebrow twitches. His eyes go glossy and he looks so lost, in you to be specific.

“You’ll make a very handsome daddy and a good one too.”

It’s not the dirtiest thing you’ve ever said to him during sex but it’s the sweetest. It hits all the same notes, emotion spreading through him until heat consumes his body. He knows what you mean now about it being too much. His knees are weak, a sheen of sweat forming on his skin as the tip of his cock swells, ropes of white decorating your insides. You rock your hips against his, maintaining the rhythm as he loses it. 

“Fill me up, Woo” you beg, pulling him in for a kiss. “Need all of you.” 

Tucking his hands behind your knees, he pushes your legs back, bottoming out to give you all of him. If he weren’t kissing you, you’d be drooling. You’re intoxicated by the fullness, no corner of you left unclaimed by him.

You exist in this moment as one. Pulses racing, hearts thumping. You’ve never belonged to each other so completely. You never want this moment to end. Never want this high to fade. Even as it does you stay tied to each other, lips moving weakly as the tension in your bodies softens. 

“I love you” he says, giving you a hug that’s adorably innocent for a man who’s still inside of you.

You settle into his arms, smiling to yourself, “Love you too, Youngie.” 

Catching a quick glimpse at his reflection he notices that half of your makeup has transferred onto him. “Guess I look like Joker too now. Don’t think I can go to the party like this.” 

“Shit, the party!”  You grab him by the face, giggling when you notice. “Low key? You’re kinda right. Come here.”

Opening the pack of wipes by your side, you pull one out to clean him up but when you bring it to his face he pushes your hand down.

“Actually, fuck the party. I just wanna stay here with the two of you for a little bit if that’s okay?”

Wooyoung lays his head on your shoulder and you pet his cheek, your earlier worries so far away now that you can hardly recall them. Late night beers are about to turn into baby bottles, all those parties are about to become bedtime stories, and Wooyoung would trade it all in every lifetime to have this with you.

All that make up,

But it couldn’t hide her fears.

And with the three of you together, it’ll never have to.  

[sapphirexsolarium]

You Were Meant For The Ocean

tw: angst, hurt/no comfort (kinda), non-mc!reader x Rafayel, couldn't proof read through the tears :')

wc: 1.1k "You were meant for the ocean." He smiles, watching you lay out on the patio with a book in hand. The warm sea breeze washing over you the salty air carrying into his studio.

"I think so too." You smile looking over at him as he paints. He gets up and lays out beside you, squishing the two of you together on the lounge chair. "Raf-"

"I'm tired and I want to take a nap." He lays on top of you, nuzzling into your chest.

"You're such a pain." You roll your eyes but you smile, fingers gently caressing his hair as you continue to read under the warm sun.

What warmth you felt that day. In your hubris you assumed there were many warm days to come. How wrong you were.

-

Watching Rafayel fall head over heels in love with his bride all over again ached your heart in a way that could only be described as soul crushing.

How could you compare to her? Tied by destiny and blessed with the ocean's love. How could you ever compare?

Did you have any right to him? Whatever the two of you shared, it wasn't in any official capacity. But some part of you thought that maybe… Well, it doesn't matter now does it?

It was far too easy how you slipped out of his world. You took quiet steps out the door. Who were you to interfere with destiny? What's the point of making a fuss when you won't be heard? Why fight what has already been written?

-

Rafayel didn't notice your absence for a long while. He was so wistfully in love it blinded him to the rest of the world. It was perhaps months until he realized you hadn't stopped by his studio in ages. There was a time he would come home to his studio and find you lounging on the patio, reading your book and waiting for his return.

When he pulls out his phone to text you he's struck with the painful realization of just how much he's neglected you.

"We should get lunch soon. That cafe by the beach is opening this weekend! c:"

"The arcade just restocked with a bunch of cute plushies we should try to get them~!"

"I heard from Thomas that your art exhibition is happening in 2 weeks. Why didn't you tell me?? I wanna come!"

"Are you alright? You haven't been answering my texts or calls lately.."

"Are you busy? We should meet up!"

"Raf this is getting a bit ridiculous.."

"Can we talk?"

"Lose my number."

He quickly tries calling your number but its sent directly to an automated voicemail. He starts texting you but they remain unsent. He pulls open his social media to check on you but he finds himself blocked from all your accounts. Panic starts to settle in his chest. When was the last time he saw you? Or even spoke to you? He can't remember. In no time he reaches your apartment but when the door opens its a complete stranger that had just moved in a week ago. What the hell?

He's desperate now and rushes to your job. Surely you'll be there right? He's told by your coworker that you were transferred to Skyhaven. You had put in the request yourself. Your co-worker was surprised that he wasn't at the farewell party.

Your departure was sudden for everyone. Every person he calls has no idea why you made the move. Until Thomas.

"Listen… I kind of figured something was up when she didn't show up for your last 2 exhibitions. I thought you were going to bring her when you asked for the tickets but then you brought that other girl around. I didn't want to pry so I left it alone, I figured you were in one of those hyper-fixation phases but then that other girl kept showing up wherever you were and she stopped coming around. I only heard about her leaving because her coworkers called me to invite us to her farewell party. I wasn't sure if you two were on bad terms so I just sent the invite via email. To be honest I was also surprised when you didn't show up but she didn't look surprised at all…"

Rafayel was shaking where he stood. Text messages, calls, emails all went unseen because he was too preoccupied with his beloved bride.

It felt like the world was collapsing in on him and to make matters worse the clouds parted to show Skyhaven floating high above him.

-

You look down at Linkon. The city seems so quiet from high above. Far off in the distance you can see the beautiful hue of ocean blue peeking through the skyline. Your heart longs for it.

"You were meant for the ocean…"

You close your eyes as that dull ache spreads across your chest. "Not anymore."

-

Months pass and Rafayel is in the throws of an artistic frenzy. Painting after painting of raging seas, stormy oceans and bleak, desolate islands. His beloved bride was his only solace but every time he sees her now, he thinks of you and the guilt rages on in his chest.

He's back out on the beach, searching for shells to mix into paint when he sees you for the first in what felt like ages. But you're not alone.

"Caleb! It's freezing!"

"Come on~ You said you used to love the ocean!"

"Used to, Caleb. Used to!" You're bundled up in a warm coat standing in front of a tall man with deep brown hair. He laughs as he helps you bundle up more. "Plus who goes to the beach during the winter?"

"It's the only time I had off. Besides…" He pulls you in closer, nuzzling your red nose, "You look kinda cute when you're freezing." He teases, making you pout more. "Ah, just too cute." He leans in to gently kiss you.

Does he have any right to feel the jealousy in his chest? In a twisted turn of events he finds himself longing for you. Is that even fair? He has his beloved bride. The only one to ever have his heart. So why does his heart ache for you? What is this soul crushing feeling?

He wants to run to you. Hold you again. Feel your warmth. Breathe in your scent. He wants to go back to the days where you lounged on his patio and he could sink into your arms. He wants what he's lost, selfishly so.

You don't even notice him in the distance. Your fingers intertwined with Caleb's as you both walk further down the beach. Away from Rafayel.

"You were meant for the ocean…" He quietly murmurs, the sounds of the crashing waves drowning out his cries.

"I really thought you'd like the ocean, baby." Caleb muses, keeping your cold fingers warm in his pocket.

"Not anymore…" You softly sigh, looking out at the waters that no longer held your heart.