You wake up in a dark alley and your thoughts are a mess.Â
Everything is blurry and confusing.Â
You were at the Leagueâs Watchtower, talking aboutâŚsomething. And then you heard Bruce screaming your name andâŚHere you were. Laying on the cold floor in an alleyway that you were pretty sure was in Gotham (youâd recognize your hometown amongst anything). Â
What the hell happened ? Was that all a dream orâŚwere you sleep walking ?Â
Bruce said you were talking in your sleep and sometimes kicked or punched him butâŚto your knowledge, you never actually walked out of your bed.Â
And definitely not into the night all the way to some place in the city !Â
Besides, Bruce and your boys always had their eyes on the tracker they put on you (they thought they were being so damn sneaky about this while you knew all alongâŚand never minded. It was pretty cute.) But the fact that they had that tracker on you meant that theyâd see you go to Gotham and one of their overly protective ass would be around andâŚ
Suffocating.Â
Youâre suffocating.Â
And because your mind is still in some sort of unnatural haze, you donât register right away that what makes you suffocate are a pair of hands around your neck. Squeezing. More and more every seconds.
You already starts to see black spots form in front of you whenâŚThe sound of a gun. Three shot. Followed by bodies hitting the ground.Â
And here he is. Your Bruce. Did he get hurt when whoever was attacking you shot him ? Itâs the first thought that comes to your mind, as you drift slowly in unconsciousness.Â
ButâŚwhy is the Batman logo on his suit red ? He never had a red suit beforeâŚÂ
He approaches you andâŚthe way he walks is so unfamiliar. What is going on ? AndâŚis that a gun in his hand ?Â
He catches you as you finally faint, and the last thing you see is how his eyes widen as you murmur : âBruce ?ââŚEverything goes black.Â
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â summary : A small bout of insecurity flashes through Larry. Though sweetness ensues
â pairing : Larry x Fem!Reader
â word count : 1k ish
â author note : I was watching a tiktok of someone saying that nobody whines like 5sos does. Who am I to not make Larry whine a bit?
What could a pretty princess do but stand at the edge of her tower and look down at the world below? what could a lowly peasant boy do but imagine a life where she might one day look back? He would've stayed there, stuck in that daydream, if reality hadnât turned out so much stranger. Because there was no tower. No village. No fairy tale bullshit.
Larry Johnson had his princess right on top of him. Metaphorically, thatâs where youâd always been. Untouchable in the way people talked about you. You were new this year, it was like crack, you were like crack, your essence got people hooked. everyone he meant everyone was infatuated.
Even Travis. And Travis didnât like anything.
So yeah, maybe âprincessâ wasnât that far off. But still⌠would a princess really be here right now, in his space, in his arms marking up his neck?
His thoughts kept slipping as your lips brushed along his skin. It wasnât even just the feeling; it was you. He swore that he was on the brink of cuming all over himself in his pants.
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
Larry blinked up at you, dazed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. âSo nice seeing you here,â he murmured, voice a little rough. âYou come here often?â
Your eyes were still a little hazy, but your grin came easy. âSometimes,â you said lightly. âI drop by to stalk my boyfriend.â
âBoyfriend, huh?â he shot back, brows lifting. âWell⌠canât go stealing someone elseâs girl.â
You hit him for that then leaned in to kiss him properly, shutting him up before he could say anything else stupid. That was how most nights ended. On school nights, it wasnât much different just traded for late calls, the sound of each otherâs breathing through the line when one of you drifted off first.
Your relationship wasnât exactly a secret. But it was private. Youâd think Larry would be shouting it from the rooftops, bragging to anyone whoâd listen but he didnât. Not really. There was something about this about you that he kept close, like if he made too much noise about it, it might slip through his fingers.
One afternoon, he and Sal were cutting past the gym when the sound of laughter caught his attention. Cheer practice.
You were standing in a circle with the other girls, head tipped slightly as you laughed at something one of them said. The light caught you just right, and for a second, everything else blurred out. God, youâre beautiful.
What are you laughing about? He lingered a second too long, eyes narrowing just slightly. Were you talking about him?
somewhere along the way, youâd stopped being just a girl he liked. becoming his world, whether he meant for it to happen or not.
you⌠you shined. In a way that didnât need him. That was the part that got under his skin. Standing there, watching you laugh so easily, he couldnât help the thought that slipped in. He knew you were everything to him. He just didnât know if he was everything to you.
So this is what led you to being under him on his bed. Enclosing you with his body, letting out sounds akin to a kicked puppy. A month wasnât a long time. But it was long enough for you to notice when something was off. Larry had been clinging to you more than usual. The second his hands found you, it was like he forgot how to let go. You pressed your palm to his chest and pushed him back.
Once Larry started kissing you, he became impossible like some kind of determined leech. âYou know,â you said, squinting up at him with a smirk, âI havenât gone to war.â
He blinked, before a grin broke through. âSheesh. Respect the hustle of loving a woman,â he shot back, leaning in just enough to press one last kiss to your forehead.
You huffed out a laugh. âOh, I appreciate it, alright.â Your hands slid up to his shoulders, steadying him, keeping him right where he was. âBut whatâs up?â
âNothing.â
You narrowed your eyes immediately. âIâm not letting you have any more kisses if you donât tell me.â
His head snapped back like youâd just insulted his entire existence. âWhat the heck? Donât strip my rights away like that.â
He tried to dip down anyway boldly, as if you wouldnât stop him.
You caught his face with both hands and pushed him back, arms fully extended now, holding him at a very necessary distance. He huffed, clearly offended⌠and then, because he was him, leaned forward just enough to lick your hands.
You froze. â Thanks,â you deadpanned, immediately wiping your hands off on his shirt. âIâll clone you later. Already got a special jar ready.â
âI hope a pony isnât too traumatized in there,â he shot back without missing a beat.
You snorted, but your grip didnât loosen. âLarry.â Your thumbs brushed lightly against his cheeks, keeping his attention on you not letting him dodge it again.
âI mean it,â you said, quieter now. âWhatâs wrong?â
He didnât answer right away. His eyes flicked away from yours for a second, he was debating whether to say it at all. Though he would be damned if he was called a bottom bitch for not communicating.
âWhen youâre with your friendsâŚâ he started, voice a little rougher than usual. âDo you talk about me?â
You blinked, caught slightly off guard but then your expression softened, a smile pulling at your lips. âYouâre my boyfriend,â you said easily. âOf course I do.â
That didnât seem to settle him. His jaw tightened just a little. âDo you say Iâm a sweetheart?â he pressed. âOr do you say Iâm a freak?â
âLarry â
You shifted, pushing him back gently until you were both sitting up properly on his bed, facing each other now.
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. âIâm just⌠curious if they know you like me the same way Iâve been liking you.â
The words came out faster than he meant them to. How much he liked you.
How easy it was to get lost in it every night blurring into the next, the way being around you felt bigger than anything he could really explain. He'd stepped into something he didnât fully understand, but didnât want to leave either.
You leaned in slightly, your voice steady when you spoke. âIâm sorry if I ever made you feel like Iâm not proud of you,â you said, eyes locked on his. âBecause I am. Thereâs nobody else I could imagine being with.â
Something in his shoulders eased but only a little.
âI donât mean to sound like a jerk about it,â he muttered, glancing down before looking back at you. âIâve talked to Sal about you and stuff and â he let out a short breath, almost laughing at himself. âThe way you mess me up? Itâs⌠a lot. In a good way, I think. I just â He shook his head. âI donât think Iâve ever been this happy before.â
then your face broke into the biggest, most ridiculous smile. âStop,â you said, already moving, already closing the distance.
You practically launched yourself at him, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as you knocked him back slightly, sprawled over him now.
âStop being the cutest person ever,â you mumbled into him. âYouâre gonna make me cry.â
He let out a surprised laugh, hands coming up automatically to hold onto you.
ââŚSo thatâs a yes?â he teased, softer now.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, still close, still holding on.
âThatâs a very obvious yes,â you said. âI know you donât really hang around my crowd of people but theyâre all probably done with me not shutting up about youâ
Breeding Program: Ultraman/Lex Luthor l C.K. & L.L.
w.c.: 9.6k
T.w.: Dark-ish fic, Smut, PinV, dub/non-con, Sex drug/a/b/o like arousal, Voyeurism, Threesome (Lex, Ultraman, Reader), Breeding Kink, slight Lactation kink/Pregnancy kink, LuthorCorp Secretary!Reader, Lex Luthor x Superman/Ultraman (one-sided and psychotic), Cum play/eating, Sex pollen, Reader has glasses, Reader loses her autonomy, Possessive Ultraman, Possessive Lex, Possessive Clark, Reader is pregnant throughout this part and next
a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works. 18+ Only! Oof⌠long awaited part two, will I make part three, I sure hope so. Thank you all who have waited for this and have given me motivation to continue this plot. Kiss kissÂ
Summary: There are some lasting effects from Lexâs aphrodisiac fumes. Even after all these months, your body and Supermanâs have become attuned to each other. Coincidentally, your body attuned for another Kryptonian with his DNA.Â
Breeding Program Masterlist
âGood morning,â you greet curtly, your words clipped from carrying in several bags of groceries though the front door.Â
Lex had Ultraman stay in the LuthorCorp building. He had his own apartment right at the very top of the skyscraper. He even gave the man a semblance of privacy. He wasnât watched in his room like a lab rat in a cage. Not like he was everywhere else.Â
You were one of the many caretakers that would visit the clone, take him for training, to medical exams, testing. The important stuff Lex couldnât trust many others to see. Most of his employees knew the clone as Ultraman.
Lex thinks it would be too shocking for them to understand. Some part of him wants to keep Ultraman's true origins a secret. To see the face of his enemy all for himself. For now, they all think he was a mutilated, scarred soul. Perhaps from the advancements Luthor had tested on him just like he did with the Engineer.Â
He was ranked amongst some of the most powerful metahumans in the world. Right next to, what was predicted by his team, Superman. The strongest based on observations alone.Â
Luthor's scientists and technicians would never see how inquisitive Ultramanâs eyes really were. How opinionated he could be. Lex saw him as nothing less than a mindless henchman.Â
You didnât.Â
Ultraman lifts the spoon from the bowl you placed in front of him. He eats the porridge slowly as you restock his cabinets.Â
He had a kitchen in his suite, he doesnât use the high end oven or stoves. He doesnât cook by himself. He did enjoy a home cooked meal, but he only waited for you to visit to pull out ingredients. You had the cupboards stocked with microwavable food and gallons of water for the times you couldnât be there to cook for him.Â
âHow is it?âÂ
His eyes were bright. Alert. Especially when you were in the room with him. He nods. You nod back with a pursed smile.Â
He was kind of weird. Lex didnât teach him how to take care of himself, claiming he was too dull to remember anything anyway.
You pick up his bowl when heâs done. Washing it as he lounges in nothing but sweatpants and watches the television on his bed. He sits by the edge, waiting for you, not bothering to dry his wet hair from the shower he took before you had come in.Â
He liked the news. He liked National Geographic. He liked documentaries. He was a thoughtful guy. At least thatâs what you liked to think.Â
Lex thought he was too dumb to even earn a name.Â
He would hand you the remote and let you put on the shows you liked. He was very polite.Â
You were currently binge watching a telenovela on ViX. It was about a farm girl falling in love with two men.Â
The protagonist had to choose between the rich man who shows her clear devotion or the poor man she falls in and out of love with since they were in high school. Â
The sound of violins and other strings filled the room as the protagonist on the screen inched her lips closer to her loverâs. The farm boy, Ulises, pulls her in close by the waist, she looks pained. Sure, she knew he loved her, but he made horrible choices, he was unstable, he got into too much trouble.Â
He was the bad boy.Â
The rich man, Sebastian, provides for her. He was good and kind. Stable and loved by everyone at the hacienda. His love never wavered for her because of otherâs opinions, or commands.Â
Ultraman sighs as the kiss was cut short, one of the farm boys' exes storms in and demands he take care of her and their baby. You gasp at the revelation, he grumbles.Â
It breaks the protagonist's heart, not knowing that the other woman was lying and manipulating Ulises into a loveless marriage. Â
Your hand had paused on his head at the dramatic scene.Â
He tilts his head back to press against your hand to urge you to continue braiding his hair. The weight of his back presses against you as you sit behind him on his bed.Â
Your fingers brush against his face as you take strands to intertwine together. His hair was lighter than Supermanâs, almost as if it were bleached or toned.Â
It was also incredibly soft because of the lack of sun exposure and frequent hair conditioning products you sneaked in from a shopping spree on Lexâs card.Â
He was warm and smelled good. Clean. You fight the urge to ogle further. His chest was bare. His sculpted, almost soft looking mounds of muscle were out on display after his shower. You let out a breath, your hand sweeping past his toned shoulders briefly to feel his soft skin.Â
The heat pooling in your lower belly from his proximity and weight as he leans against you, his bare body almost on display, was hard to ignore. But you do it. You ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, making your cheekbones ache in prickles.Â
He glances at you, as you use a hair tie to keep his two braids in place. You were smaller than him, soft. He wanted to put his mouth on you constantly. Â
He didnât know how, or in what way. He sees it on the tv. Telenovelas you put on when you were supposed to watch him for the night after he had to heal after a battle.Â
They kissed passionately, dramatically. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you like that. Would you respond back the same? He would like that.Â
You pat his shoulders when youâre done and he moves to the side to let you scoot off the bed. He almost wishes you could stay. You did that sometimes. When he was in bad shape after a quarrel with Superman.Â
It made you feel bad. Almost to the point of wanting to find Superman and scold him for being too rough. Â
Youâd sometimes sleep in the bed with him, it was spacious enough and he made sure you had a lot of room as you dozed off from exhaustion, the tv still playing softly in the background.Â
He grabs your bag from the edge of the bed and hands it to you as you stand. You smile down at him from where heâs sat on the bed.Â
It makes his chest warm. He likes what he feels when you smile at him.Â
You walk out the door with a quiet goodbye.Â
âŚ
Three months later:
Youâve been ignoring Lex as best you could for the past two months, after the reveal of his latest scheme and after you had found out you were pregnant with Supermanâs baby.Â
Despite this, you were still working with him, still his personal assistant. The threat of a legal battle looming over your head like a grey sky.Â
He looks down from his computer monitor, standing in a room full of screens with his team and watching as Ultraman once again attempts to defeat Superman.Â
Heâs already thinking of what the news would say about this one. Superman was getting hit more and more frequently, people have started to notice that the hero of three years has been faltering.Â
He eyes the way you were standing. You were starting to wear looser clothes, shorter heels. You take frequent breaks to go to the bathroom. Most likely to puke your guts out. Or maybe you just didnât want to be around him much.Â
He couldnât help but feel something stirring in him whenever he saw you.Â
You refused to speak with him privately, you didnât even bother to take your stuff out of his penthouse. Instead, wordlessly moving back to your apartment. But you did everything he demanded of you.Â
Keep the pregnancy. Go to the appointments. Change your diet. Take your supplements.Â
It was all for the child. Never for your wellbeing. Through heavy introspection, he felt what could be described as bad for his moral discrepancy. He was using your body like a vessel. As if he didnât miss having someone to hold at night. He refuses to believe any negative emotion came from missing your company, your laugh, or your wit.Â
He felt bad that he cared more for the offspring, and Superman in turn, than he did you. He felt bad for the discomfort that was pushed onto him whenever you were near. Your disdain was palpating, making his ears ring and his spine crawl.Â
He stands up straight and glances in your direction. You were wearing a sweater, one of his favorites. A long skirt and those mary janes heâd gotten you when you were briefly together for a couple of weeks. It was one of your usual outfits, always looking for comfort, damn the professional uniform he mandated the rest to follow. You glance at him from your peripheral, knowing he was going to command something of you.Â
âCall-âÂ
You were out of the office before he could finish, his phone rings on his desk from a transferred call in less than a minute and he sighs as he picks it up. You did what was asked, you did it well. So well he barely saw you anymore.Â
It was late in the afternoon when Superman had defeated the âvillainâ and Ultraman had retreated from the hero.Â
You were in his apartment, having cooked him chicken cutlets and pasta as doctors patched him up and he bathed. You let out a shaky breath as his pained face flashes in your mind. He had clung onto you after he shed himself from his costume, his face melding into the side of your neck as he groaned.Â
The sudden contact had shocked you, enough to knock you over to the floor. He quickly gathered you up on his lap, hands fisting your sweater. You reciprocated instinctively, the feel of his body engulfing over yours sending your heart racing.Â
Lex had pulled him away from you. As you separated, it felt like you had gotten shot with adrenaline. Lex noticed. He noticed how you took a step toward Ultraman as he was pulled to his feet by medical, as if you were aching to be near him again.
He had left a faint trail of sweat on your neck, a hint of blood from a split lip on your cheek. Bodily fluids clearly have lasting effects on you.Â
You swallowed thickly as you attempted to regain your composure, Lex having put a hand on your stomach protectively as Ultraman was led away.Â
âAre you alright?âÂ
You nodded slowly, pushing his roaming hand away, adjusting your sweater over your belly. You kept staring at the door from which his tall form left. With narrowed eyes, Lex nudged you forward, mumbling under his breath about licking wounds and babysitting overtime.Â
The lighting in the apartment was warm. You hoped the soft hues of orange and yellow soothed him, anything other than hospital bright white at least. You feel your body cringe and tense as Ultraman walks out of his bedroom. The battle was all over the news, every social media feed discussing it as if there wasnât a new one every other week. Your focus was clouded ever since you were toppled over by the quiet giant. You think your brain went southbound, right between your legs.Â
You avoided logging onto instagram or twitter. Any semblance of Superman made you nauseous. It made your stomach curl.Â
You felt a mix of shame and anxiety fester in your chest whenever you thought about him and his perfect dimples and the way Lex antagonizes him every chance he has.Â
Lex made a call with a news channel earlier in the day. He wanted to put his two cents in on the latest battle, which he procured. He stated that Superman was not as efficient as he used to be. The news was running the interview call he had given them now.Â
You tune out the words and cringe when they display images of Superman to go with the audio of Lexâs lecture increasing in ferocity.
You turn away from the small screen set up in the kitchen with your plates only to find Ultraman bare, boxers and sweatpants in hand. There was a brief moment where your eyes connected, your breath catching in your throat. He had a slight bruised swell around his cheek.Â
You feel your heart thrum quickly. His dick was soft. And yet it reminded you of Supermanâs. But unlike him, Ultraman didnât trim, he didnât know how to, nobody did it for him. It wasnât necessary.Â
Superman was well groomed, trimmed. Dark hairs that curled ever so slightly when you had made a mess of his pelvis with your arousal.
You look away with a shaky sigh. You had excused yourself from every opportunity to tend to Ultraman after your coupling with Superman for this very reason. You knew you'd be comparing. Youâd look at the similarities and be reminded of how good Superman made you feel.Â
You wonder if the superhero thought of you too.Â
You stare holes into the floor as he approaches. He needed help putting his clothes on, his body too sore to bend down and do it himself. His hair was wet, slicked back and darkened by the moisture.Â
He looked so much like Superman. Your brain tells you for a brief second that you saw him in the room with you. It made goosebumps crawl all over your skin. The hairs on your arms lifted.Â
You kneeled down to lift his boxers up his thighs, then his sweats, avoiding looking at his crotch. He sits down on the kitchen islandâs stool as you stand and he starts to eat from his plate. He noticed the way you reacted to him nowadays. Your body would flush with heat, your breath would stutter. He liked it.Â
He briefly recalls what he has seen on television. The tv shows where the girls have a crush on someone and start acting how you were now, shy and bashful.
He decides to let you have your time to process your new feelings for him. He watches as you struggle to maintain your composure as you eat your meal. You ate slowly, as if you were seconds away from puking. He thought it was because of the baby you were carrying. He could see it, he thought you had a tumor when your belly had started to become rounder, so he checked only to find a fetus floating inside your womb.Â
He knew more than he let on. No one ever asks him so why would he tell them he was starting to read books on medicine, culture, and so much more. At first jealousy rose within him, but he quickly found out the baby was Supermanâs. Lexâs team liked to gossip, most of them already knowing your situation because their boss had tasked them with watching you.
The revelation, in a strange way, calmed him.Â
He knew they were practically the same. So his children were his. The baby was his.Â
You look bothered most of the time, full of discomfort that would make you squirm. The more you spent in his room, the more uncomfortable you seemed.Â
You swipe your forehead lightly and feel droplets of sweat wet the back of your sleeve. It was so hot in the room. You glance at the thermometer near his open bedroom door. It was set at 70 degrees.Â
He eats quickly, as if he needs to be ready at a moment's notice. You donât even think he savors the food. The water he drinks spills over the corners of his lips. Almost sensual in the way they drip down his neck and drag against the lines of his collarbones.Â
He stands suddenly.
He makes his way over to his bed, opening the bedside drawer to reveal the hair ties you kept there. He sits at the edge expectantly, his hand already holding the tv remote in hand.Â
With a sigh you make your way over.Â
Your stomach clenches as you braid his hair, his weight was heavy on you, eyes closed as your fingers lightly massaged his scalp. It must be a hot flash or whatever pregnant people deal with.Â
Your eyes wander. You didnât see him like this when he had the full suit on. He was pure muscle, some softness to him but otherwise built like a machine. His biceps were the size of your head, his thighs equalling yours and maybe being even thicker.Â
You lean closer to the side of his head. He leans into you, you feel yourself shiver against his back as his head rests against your shoulder and his nose nudges your jaw.
You imagine Superman's shoulders, how broad they were when he pounded into you. The way you grasped them and held on for dear life. You let out a breathy low moan. The sound catches in your throat the second you let out the soft hum.Â
You pull away quickly.Â
He notices, you knew he noticed by the rising hard on he sported, bulging through his sweatpants obscenely. He could smell your arousal.Â
You wanted it bad. Your hand presses to your mouth to stop yourself from moaning at the mere sight of his arousal. What was wrong with you? You had more control than this?
You tie his hair in a misshapen braid and push away from him quickly. You felt like your body was on fire. Just from being near Ultraman. He doesnât stop you, he just stares hungrily, eyes narrowed as if urging you to come closer.Â
You make your way out of his apartment, not saying goodbye and shifting in your seat on the way home by how wet your panties had gotten.Â
âŚ
You make your way out and into the balcony. You sigh out as the breeze passes through your body. Like a refreshing rush of water cleansing you. Lexâs been clinging to you like an octopus. His arm wound tight around your waist, long fingers caressing the slight swell of your belly teasingly.Â
You felt like a trophy wife. Paraded around the charity event, one youâre sure he didnât even care about. That was your task for the evening, a work event. Like those times heâs attempted to convince you that going to dinner with him after your âbreakupâ was work-related and not because he wanted you close.Â
Youâd excused yourself to the bathroom and he had pressed a tight lipped kiss to the crown of your head, prompting those around him to look between themselves. He wanted them to assume a connection between you both, with the baby and bump that was barely showing.Â
All speculation for the moment.Â
Lex didn't like leaving you alone, you briefly wondered if he thought you would escape. If you were planning on leaving with the very thing he wanted growing in your womb.Â
He knew better than to underestimate you. Sometimes he hated the anxious feeling you gave him. He didnât like not knowing.Â
You would be upset at work, you walked the halls of his office building with your head held high. Like you had something over him. And you did. He hated it.Â
You hadnât come back from the âbathroomâ, instead opting to find a way to get some fresh air. Ultraman walks out behind you and he could see the way the swoosh of the door made your shoulders tense.Â
He closes the door softly, the sounds of chatter inside mute and dissolve into unintelligible murmurs. The soft lighting of the lamps on either end of the handrails illuminated your cheeks as you turned from where you were sitting on a marble bench.Â
He almost wishes he could caress your soft skin. He bet it would feel like a peach. Would your mouth taste just as sweet?
He doesnât really like peaches, he thinks as he inches closer. He thinks heâd just like the taste of you. Your mouth. The tears gathering and dripping down your cheeks, that musky place between your legs.Â
You turn and eye him suspiciously. You scoff. You hated Lex and everything that represented him. The man standing in front of you was covered head to toe in black. Lexâs branding and logo showcased on his shoulder pads as if he were an F1 racer. You wonder when Lex would take the initiative to charge companies for ads.Â
Your eyes trail over his form. Still and silent. You remember when you first met, without the suit or mask. It was jarring. Lex was beaming, hands wandering over his defined pectorals and shoulders as if he were a cherished lover.Â
He had stared at you, brows furrowed as if he thought you were just like his creator.Â
Lex indulges himself in the clone. It was his first seemingly successful creation. You thought he was mentally deranged. Vulgar with the way he treated him. Unfortunately, Ultraman was close to perfect. He was born with a fully formed brain. Blank. He needed to have developed as an infant, a child, a teenager. He skipped steps to be fully functioning.Â
But you knew he could learn, and he did. It just takes longer. It doesnât stick as well. He can barely speak. Or maybe he chooses not to. Your hands were cradling your belly on your lap. You quickly move them away. Lex would get what he wanted. A perfect copy of Superman, able to be manipulated, learn, and grow. It made your blood boil.Â
Your dark blue chiffon scarf slides down your shoulders. He tips his head ever so slightly as your collarbone becomes exposed. His hands twitch, fingers flexing as if he wanted to reach out and adjust your gown for you. Your lips purse. He had big hands, youâre sure he could cover your face with his palm. Maybe even cup your breasts completely and squeeze- You shiver and you look away quickly.Â
He wasnât Superman. You felt pity for him. For yourself.Â
He reminded you of Tarzan. You didnât think you would like to be his Jane. Youâve known about his crush. Lex noticed it first. Ultraman seemed intrigued, no- enamored. You treated him like a person, and not like an ignorant child or machine. It clicked in your head after a while. When Lex had been testing that damn drug on him. Â
Your eyes make a path from one thick shoulder to the other. You take a shaky breath in. Superman's shoulders were so broad. He was so large. You think youâve started to develop a crush on him. In turn, Ultraman as well. You were getting turned on by him, inadvertently so. He reminded you of Superman's dimples and thick voice and the way he held you close to him and asked politely if you wanted to âescapeâ, wrapped up in his cloak and taken to who knew where.Â
You stand and face him. Your eyes carry forced aggression against him. The memory of that night passing through you in embarrassment.You felt like a child that needed to be escorted back to their father.Â
He follows close behind as you walk past him and back into the event. You think Lex had you come for publicity.Â
Girlfriend? Friend? Who is this woman by his side? You knew it was because he wanted Superman to see you too. It made you anxious, as if you had been keeping a secret. You looked bloated at certain angles, Lexâs hand firmly on your hip, as if to highlight the slight swell of your stomach.Â
E! News had commented on how his new girl should hit the gym more often. It was all over the tabloids, the Daily Planet gossip column, TMZ, and even some news station who had nothing better to report on. Lex wanted to stir conversation. He wanted Supermanâs attention, badly. You almost felt like a third wheel at this point.Â
You feel Lexâs gaze from the corner of the room. Your eyes connect with his and without breaking it he excuses himself and makes his way over to you, surely to remind you about your contract and how you were meant to follow his orders. Stay by my side tonight.
You scoot past guests as he inches closer, losing him quickly as you make your way to a crowd looking over a priceless vase from ancient Rome. Ultraman was hard to ditch due to his advanced senses but you found that he was easily overwhelmed by crowds.Â
You take a deep breath in and adjust your scarf over yourself, hiding your stomach. You hear your name being spoken throughout the crowd, guests gladly giving directions to your location or where they had last seen you walk past. You curse under your breath and make an attempt to hide behind tall figures.Â
You press a hand to your chest as your heart starts to pump so fast you fear itâs going to jump out of your throat. It was making your body heat in subtle thrums as you entered an empty hallway. Your breath comes out unsteadily. The feeling only gets stronger. You place a hand over your chest, panic rising at the thought of a sudden heart attack.Â
A trail of warmth leads from your mouth and slides down your throat to your lower stomach like thick honey. As if you had just drank in sweet rum. Your muscles were buzzing underneath your skin.Â
Someone grips your wrist, dropping it quickly as a shock runs through your spine and you turn sharply with a yelp. The man was clearly out of place, an old, too big tweed suit sitting upon his shoulders haphazardly. He was slightly hunched over and his cheeks were glowing pink. He adjusts his glasses and lifts his press badge.Â
You should have turned away, ignored him to oblivion but something told you to stay still. His touch sated your heart slightly, but your stomach curls in beats. Your eyes lock with his, you take a step forward, you swear you've seen him before. His face was so familiar. Your lips part and you felt an urge to reach up and touch his face-
A thick body slides itself in front of you. Ultraman's foot in front of you as the reporter attempted a step closer. He takes a sheepish step back, glancing at Ultraman's goggled mask. Your curiosity doesnât waver. You place your hand on Ultramanâs forearm and his shoulders soften at the touch. He keeps himself between you both. His breathing came in and out in deep breaths, making his chest rise and fall deeply.
Your eyes lock with the reporterâs.
âClark Kent, Daily Planet.âÂ
He swallows thickly and his throat bobs. Your eyes narrow. You recognize the name. The Superman guy. Writes about him so much and so eloquently that his writing could be reenacted by him gargling on Supermanâs balls.Â
His eyes narrow back at you, almost judgementally. Youâve been ignoring the hell out of him. His emails, pleading you to at least give him a comment back. You feel a tinge of shame. You didnât think he would be so cute.
You take a step closer, Ultraman shifts. Clark says your last name curtly after a stiff miss.Â
âIâve been attempting to contact you in regards to the kidnapping that occurred three months prior.â
Your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. His voice was so deep. So hot. He was attempting to be professional but his words came out unnatural in verbiage.Â
His eyes dart to your cleavage from your sudden heady breaths, his jaw ticking before looking away quickly. He takes a deep breath in and he clears his throat. You felt your mouth water. Your eyes were darting all over his frame. He had nice shoulders, even if he slumped them. His jaw was strong, his hands large.Â
You swallow thickly and shift. His eyes follow the line of your throat as it bobs. He remembers kissing a path down to your breasts. The way you arched your back as he held you up against him. The broken sounds you made when he curled his fingers in your cunt and suckled at your nipples. He remembers the taste of your milk, sweet, slightly musky. He salivates at the memory.Â
âI was-â he starts after your silence.Â
Admittedly he was so upset at you. He was ready to rip you a new one. You ignored him. While he was just trying to ensure you were safe. Given, you didnât know [email protected] was Superman himself.Â
His eyes roamed over your figure.Â
Gosh, you were so beautiful. The fabric of your dress laid over your body perfectly, accentuating your best features in a way only he could compare with your bare skin. But he was upset!
He couldnât stop thinking about you for the past three months. The taste of your cunt, your breasts. It would be too much sometimes whenever he saw you with him on the television or in a tabloid. It made him want to tear his hair out. Sometimes he almost did when he would see a picture of Lex giving you a kiss on the cheek. He remembers kissing you in much more intimate places.Â
Heâd taken care of himself in the Daily Planetâs bathroom stalls far too many times because of that very train of thought.
You watch as he adjusts the collar of his suit, his face flushes. He looks as if he had just gotten out of a sauna. Your eyes zone in on his adam's apple. Your tongue peeks between your lips and your fingers twitch.Â
âI just wanted to write about how these attacks haveâŚâ he swallows thickly. You repress the urge to bite your lip. You almost lean into Ultraman, your head inching closer to his bicep to rest there. Your body rises in goosebumps, Clarkâs voice was deep. He was so tall. As tall as Ultraman, no Superman.Â
You werenât wearing a bra. Your nipples hardened and pointed out to him, teasing him. Your scarf couldnât hide that.Â
âAffected victims,â he finishes. He could smell your arousal. Ultraman could too.Â
âIf youâre available, that is.âÂ
Your head straightens and tips.Â
âIf Iâm available?â you ask. You werenât paying attention to a word he said since youâve noticed his bright eyes. Youâve never felt such need for a stranger before.Â
He steps closer, his voice lowers. âAre you available?â he asks with a hint of confidence. His voice only slightly unsure. Was he flirting with you? Even he couldnât believe it. Your lips part into a lazy smile, you start to nod.Â
Ultraman grips your waist and lifts you enough to have you floating off the ground by a centimeter, placing you directly behind him. His chest puffs as he faces Clark Kent. You press against his back as you attempt to get a glimpse of the reporter again. Â
You're forced to turn the other direction.Â
Youâre led away with a strong arm on your bicep. Ultraman drags you away, towards a shiny bald head all the way on the other side of the venue. You turn your head and watch as the reporter stands alone flustered.Â
âI am- available!â you choke out.
âŚ
Ultraman wraps a hand around your bicep with a fierce grip as he drags you across the hallways and to his living quarters. He had taken off his mask in the elevator, right after Lex had placed a wet kiss on your cheek and patted your ass to send you off and tuck Ultraman in for the night.
You think it was a punishment of some kind. Forced to work late hours with what Lex thought was an airheaded nuisance.Â
Ultramanâs jaw was flexing, his brows furrowed in frustration. You think it was because of the reporter. He can be so rough, he wasn't good at controlling his emotions. His jealousy especially.Â
He got jealous when Lex spoke about Supermanâs stats, how much stronger he seemed to be than Ultraman at times. He gets jealous whenever a seasonal intern speaks to you and follows you around for a couple of days.Â
He hates knowing other people have your attention. He hates the way that reporter was looking down at you, and the way you were looking up at him. As if you wanted to rip his clothes off.Â
He gruffs past you to his bathroom, coming out after a couple of minutes as you wait on his bed. You had placed your scarf on the back of the lounging chair in his bedroom. You were looking intently at your phone, eyes flickering all over the screen in great interest.Â
He thought you looked so pretty, head pressed against his pillows as if you were made to sleep next to him. Your dress flowed around your body, curling near your hip and accentuating the shape of your belly and waist.Â
He dreams of things like this.Â
He dreams of living in an hacienda, tending to horses, picking up haybells and coming home to you. Youâd be head down and overwhelmed with paperwork. Like he sees you in his living room coffee table sometimes when you have to stay and watch over him during weekdays.Â
Then thereâd be pitter patters of little sock clad feet. Running up to him as he came in through the door. Youâd give him a look, soft and sweet. Like you had missed him.Â
Then he would wake up and realize that he wasnât living the life of the man in the tv drama.Â
You stare at the man on your phone screen. You mimicked the same dopey smile from his dream. Clark Kentâs profile at the Daily Planet website looked like it was taken last minute. His tie was wrinkled and awkwardly bent to the left as if he had just put it on in a rush.Â
Ultraman makes a sound from the back of his throat. You slam the phone face down on the bedside table as if to hide the autobiography you were reading. He bet you didnât even hear the bathroom door open.Â
He doesnât know what comes over him. He thinks it was instinct. It just felt right to him.Â
His hair was slicked back, you noticed right before he dived in to kiss you on the lips. His hand maneuvers itself to the back of your head, the other makes the mattress dip as he crawls on top of you. A sound of surprise escapes you, lips parting slightly and allowing his tongue to peek between them to roam over your teeth.Â
His lips were soft and gradually as he continued, you melted into it, your hands running up his forearm and to his shoulders. He flexes them under your touch. You feel him harden into the crease of your thigh and a chill goes down your spine.Â
His hand meets the small of your back and presses you up against his chest. Your breath stutters as he pulls away to lead kisses down your jaw. He grips you tightly, lifting you up so that you would wrap your legs around him.Â
You were moving too fast, his hands were precise as they lifted the soft fabric of your dress up your waist, the strap falling down your shoulder and revealing your breasts. Your body pulses as his hand caresses your bare flesh, a sharp ache imbedding itself down your spine and to your cunt.Â
One hand cups your breast, calloused palm rubbing against your sensitive nipple. The other guides your hip over his lap, clothed cunt plopping right over his bare cock.
You grind against his hard on, mouth falling open as you move your hips against him. His precum moistens your underwear as you shift your hips erratically. His fingers trail along the waistband of your panties, sliding them down.Â
Heâs watched porn. Lex had shown him some films for the sake of research. Could the clone feel arousal? How big did Supermanâs dick get when he was hard? All questions Lex may or may not have been upfront with his colleagues about. He thought of you in place of those men and women, sinking his cock into your tight wet hole, pressing you into his bed as he split you open.Â
He wanted to feel pleasure, he wanted to pleasure. He bites down onto your neck softly, feeling your heart pulse quicken. Heâs never touched anyone other than himself before, his hand shakes as his fingers part your lower lips. He sinks his fingers into you, making your back arch at the unexpected intrusion. You whine, face creasing as if you were mid-cry.Â
The feeling of his thick finger stretching you open made your stomach tense. His face was tight, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he tested out your give. He pushes in deep, your hand grips his shoulder tightly as he presses experimentally against your cervix. He squeezes your chest, pressing his head against your collarbone. You were so wet, dripping down his fingers.Â
He pumps you too fast, so fast that your pleasure starts to dissipate. He didnât know how to finger, apparent by the stiff pointed fingers moving frantically against your inner walls which felt numb after thirty seconds.Â
He takes directions so well. Your grip on his shoulders tightens. You curl your fingers and his curl with yours. Your head falls to his neck, you mewl as he rubs against the spongy part inside you. His cock twitches on the swell of your belly as he imagines what the squeeze of your cunt on his fingers would feel on his cock.Â
He continues, your fingers finding their way to your clit, rubbing as you ground your lips against the ridges of his cock. You shriek as his mouth finds your nipple, sucking at it harshly, the sudden action making you rut against him as you reach your peak.Â
Your body shakes, legs flexing on their own as he presses you as close as possible. He doesnât let you go and even as his cock throbs he refuses to move an inch to not risk you moving away. Your body is crushed against his body as he moves to lay on top of you, his head curling against your chest, hands gripping your dress hard enough to make the seams pop.Â
Any attempt of moving away is met with a deep groan, his lips finding their way to your breast and sucking harsh enough to paralyze you. You stay there, body shaking, his hand coming up to caress the curve of your belly in worship, until you feel yourself drift from exertion.Â
You wake up on your side, pillows and blankets shifted to cocoon you. You were in a pillow fort.Â
For a moment you forget where you were but as you shift you feel the unpleasant wetness of your arousal and someone else's on your thigh, leaking down to the sheets in its thickened state.Â
You sit up groggily. Someone will come in soon. To change the sheets. Ultraman goes to train in the morning- Your heart stops for a moment as you realize he wasnât there. Someone had come in to retrieve him.Â
The phone clatters against the bedside table as you fumble for it, your fingers shaking as you check for any messages or calls from Lex as youâre sure his employees would snitch about the state you were in if they saw you.Â
You find nothing. You take a deep breath. Youâre sure Ultraman got dressed on his own and left you to sleep. Youâre sure whoever retrieved him this morning didnât come into the apartment and just waited for him at the door.Â
Judging by the way you were covered when you had woken up, he hid you as best he could. You bite your lip as you resist a smile. It was sweetâŚÂ
âŚ
You wear one of his spare shirts and sweatpants as you make your way out of the building. It would have made you feel less like a walk of shame. But judging by the heels you still wore, it might have made things look worse. You swipe through your emails again as you take a cab home.Â
Hello,Â
It was a pleasure meeting you at the event. I didnât catch what you said before you had left. Do you have availability in your schedule to meet and talk? Just wanted to ask a few questionsâŚ
You skip the paragraph, instead your eyes bulge at the final question. Your heart hammers and your lips quirk into a smile. Oh.
Do you want to discuss it over dinner?
Best Regards,
Clark Kent
Despite yourself, you still feel that ache in your lower belly. Slowly building up again. You bite your cheek, exhaling slowly as you shift in the backseat of the taxi. Clark Kent seemed like he would be into pregnant women⌠at least you hope he will be.Â
Your fingers type faster than your brain could process.Â
âŚ
Lex watches you smile at your phone, your shoulders hunched over as you type quickly and place the screen down onto your desk with a slam of giddiness. Discomfort develops in his chest. He feels awkward amidst your happiness. What was causing it? Clearly not him. Why were you giggling to yourself? You never did that with him. Maybe when you were dating⌠for a month.Â
His foot taps the floor impatiently as he hears your sharp snort. So much so that it starts to cramp. He hates not knowing. He stands from his desk and makes his way out the door to his office. It was kept open for a while, he always had an eye out for you.Â
Your head was barely visible from your desk, he leaned against the counter. Your smile falls, you slide your phone away into your pant pocket and look up with dead eyes. It almost made his eyes twitch.Â
âWeâre going to dinner tonight.âÂ
Your eyes narrow.Â
âCanât,â you respond dully.Â
His head tips to the side. Wondering where you got the confidence to be dismissive of him.Â
âIâm meeting with a reporter.â
He stands up straighter. His brows furrow intensely, so much so they almost connect in the center of his face.Â
âYouâre not allowed to speak to the media as a LuthorCorp employee, you know this.âÂ
You shrug.
âIt has nothing to do with my employment. Itâs about my kidnapping, which I recall being after work hours. 5 pm sharp.â
Your eyes resisted rolling and trails to your monitor screen. You close up, picking up your coat and shrugging it on. It was starting to get cold, you twist your scarf over your neck and tuck it.Â
You start to walk away from him, having clocked out of work on your phone. He follows close behind, long legs catching up to your pace.Â
âWith who?â
You barely turn your head to respond, you purse your lips anxiously. Youâre sure his office will be trashed when you come in tomorrow morning. Your steps quicken to the elevator. You press the first floor button as he stands in anger and frustration, his hands at his hips.Â
âClark Kent.âÂ
You barely see the hints of splotchy red adorning his face as the doors close shut.Â
âŚ
It was cold out, but you could feel the warmth building from your lower belly spread to the rest of your body. Clark had offered to walk you back home but there was a magnetic pull you felt towards him, making you want to rip him out of his clothes, to stay in his presence longer than you would with someone you barely met.Â
You think he felt the same. In fact, you knew he did by the way he gripped your upper arm to drag you to an empty dark alley. His hands were resting on your hips, yours on his suit jacket as both of your breaths quickened to pants.Â
Clark leans down, his exhale stuttering as you take a step between his feet, your chest meeting his. You were so wet, your cunt throbbing as slick runs down your inner thighs. You could see his massive boner poke through his trousers, pressing into your lower belly.Â
You whine at the sight of his frames almost falling from the bridge of his nose, yours fogging up from his warm puffs. You think Clark Kent was sick. He found out you were pregnant during dinner, with his friend's child no less and yet he's still here, the bridge of his nose nudging against your jaw.Â
His lips trace over your neck, he feels your pulse, the shake of your knees. He presses you against the side of the building, hand lifting your skirt to grab at your thighs.
Your fingers tighten over the lapels of his jacket as his fingers gather your slick, pressing it to his lips in a starved groan. Heâs dreamt of your taste. To the point where he would catch a hint of it in the air sometimes, tasting it on his tongue and yearning for more.Â
It was like you were his favorite candy. A rich musky honey that he could never find anywhere else but in his own perverted mind. He gathers more of it, quickly flicking his tongue out to catch your arousal on his fingertips before dipping back in.Â
He would get down on his knees but he wants to taste your mouth, lick the sweat off your skin from attempting to take both of his thick fingers. Your noses smoosh together as his tongue explores your mouth, his scent surrounds you, he smothers you as he lifts you against the wall and steps between your thighs.Â
You pull away to take a breath and his mouth follows, only allowing you a heartbeat to inhale before he pulls you back into him.Â
Your phone vibrates as he starts to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clacking making your spine straighten in arousal. He moans when he feels more of your slick drop down his fingers and collect over his knuckles.Â
âClark..âÂ
You attempt to shift away, your phone starts to vibrate again. The bag on your shoulder pressing the phone inside against your ribs. You push against his chest. It could be important. Given by the amount of call backs, it must be.Â
Even despite the heat and how good he makes you feel, your mind was clearer than his. He starts to tug your panties down, pressing the bulge of his boxers against the seam of your cunt.Â
âClark-âÂ
You push his shoulder hard, he instinctively grips your hand. The strength of it makes your breath hitch. He pulls away from your neck slowly, the cool air sending a chilling breeze as it meets your saliva slickened skin.Â
You stare at each other, he leans back to get a better look at you. Your eyes were hooded over and glossy. Lips swollen from his kisses. He hears the vibration, cutting through the tension. As he lets you down, his grip loosens, so much more delicate than before as his knuckles pass over your cheek.Â
The intimacy widens your eyes, but you let him continue, ignoring the urgency in your purse. He lifts your frames up to the crown of your head and your vision blurs slightly. His figure morphs into fuzz, and for a second your heart stops.Â
He looks down at you with tenderness, a serious look of determination you couldnât understand yet. You resist the urge to pet his head. The dark hair, tall and broad frame. It reminded you of him.Â
You clear your throat as you bend to pull your underwear up from where they fell to your parted knees. He adjusts himself quickly as you make yourself presentable again.Â
âI have to go.âÂ
He nods.
âIâll find you.âÂ
His words make you shiver. His confidence almost sounded like a threat.Â
You fish your phone out of your purse as it rings again, turning away and shakily walking into the street. You curse under your breath and hail a taxi when you glance at the contact.Â
âŚ
You quicken your steps when you hear more of his sounds of pain. Lex had alerted you of Ultramanâs injuries, claiming he was requesting you by name. It rang alarm bells in your head, he didn't speak, not unless he was mimicking what someone had told him to say.Â
But as you approach the medical lab, you hear it clear as day. Ultraman says it whispily, voice hoarse either from disuse or fatigue.Â
He was strapped to the table, no other person around him except for Lex. He was writhing, kryptonite crystals lined along the straps. The room was hot, musky. It smelled like sex and sweat. He was shirtless, only in his boxers.
What really made your stomach curl was his dick print, it was visibly pulsing, most of the front of his underwear darkened by pre and cum. You swallow a moan as Ultraman's stomach clenches, more cum staining his boxers, some escaping past the fabric to make a mess on the medical chair. Lex stands over him, now facing you with narrowed eyes, as if waiting for you to react.Â
He almost looks smug at how your chest starts to rise and fall quickly because of your surroundings. His bulge was obscene, Ultraman's body pulled like a corded wire. His neck was strained towards you. Your mouth parts and you swallow thickly.Â
Lex and his stupid experiments.Â
You feel anger rise within you, a hint of confusion in your voice as you step closer, dropping your bag and going to him as he calls your name weakly.
âWhy arenât you helping him?â
Lex watches closely, jaw ticked in irritation as you instinctively place a hand over Ultramanâs cheek, caressing lightly with your thumb. Your hands quickly move to take away the restraints as he moans weakly.Â
âI wouldnât do that if I were you,â he says boredly. You ignore him. Ultraman whines as your fingers graze over his skin. As the restraints fall to the side of the table he grips your wrists tightly, sitting up with minimal effort and pulling you up against him. Youâre concerned by the way he shudders, panting into your ear as he tries to peel off your sweater.Â
You donât really fight it. His wandering lips and hands over your bare skin make you shake. As if a deep part of you was satisfied. You already knew what Lex did to him. He was always cruel. You fight through the need to submit to the rough pull of clothing. Your glare is directed at Lex as Ultraman starts to rut against your side.Â
Your stomach clenches as his tongue slides over your throat. Your knees start to shake.Â
âYouâre a sick fuck, Lex,â you say breathily. He rolls his eyes. Heâd thought you would be more grateful, honestly. Heâs sure you didnât know that he had cameras installed inside Ultramanâs room. To better monitor you of course.Â
He felt a sense of envy and malice seeing you cuddle up with his creation, his brute. Then coincidentally, you had dinner with Clark Kent. Supermanâs favorite reporter, most likely confidant and friend.Â
âI havenât yet been able to see the side effects. Which- Iâm sure- youâve felt already.âÂ
You frown. Lex always likes it when you pout. Your eyes flutter as your skirt is pulled down, panties along with it. Luthor walks around you both, shifting his belt to adjust himself.Â
âYou want Superman so bad, take him,â he says hatefully, his words sounding more like a hiss.Â
Your eyes widen. Lex presses against your back, your back arches as his fingers reach the apex of your thighs. His fingers plunge into you, finding no resistance. Your knees give out but he holds you up against Ultramanâs chest, sandwiching you between them.Â
âWant someone to take the edge off, whore?â
His words were whispered in your ear, your body unable to move between the two broad walls of chests. Lex pulls away, leaving you to grip onto Ultraman to still yourself. You watch as Ultramanâs lips open obediently, Lex pushing past his tongue to gag him with arousal coated fingers.Â
His fingers pinch Ultramanâs chin harshly.
âPlay with your toy.âÂ
âŚ
âOh câmon-â
Lex stands from his chair suddenly. Heâs been watching him pound into you for an hour. Your body was draped over the bed, shaking with your knees pushed all the way to your shoulders. You were boneless, Ultraman kissing you sloppily on your parted lips.Â
Your glasses have fallen off, the sight of him on top of you bringing you pangs of arousal with every glance. It felt like you were on a perpetual high, brain turning to mush with his every grunt, every load.Â
You were covered in it, your thighs slippery and lower belly filthy in translucent white. You were on the edge of ecstasy, unlike your experience with Superman who had shown that he was as compassionate as everyone he had encountered made him seem.
Your face was hot, skin itchy from the lack of proper release.
Lex snaps you out of your haze for a moment, pulling Ultraman back by the root of his hair and pulling his hands away from the backs of your thighs. He stops mid thrust, your legs shaking as they fall on either side of his hips.Â
You feel Lex start to rub your cunt, thumb tracing over your lower lips as he whispers in Ultramanâs ears. You were too numb to fully understand his murmurs, but you catch Ultraman nodding. Your hips jump as he pinches your clit, showing where the clone should touch. He lets go of his hair and allows his fingers to replace his own.Â
âDonât be greedy, understand?âÂ
Ultraman nods stiffly, still in a daze of pleasure as his own fingers start to explore, circling over the hood slowly before pushing it away to place the lightest pressure on your exposed clit. Lex stays put, eyes roaming over your figure, covered in the clones cum. He couldnât help himself, he bends down to lick at your neck, slowly making a path downward to where all of Ultramanâs spend had stained your skin.
Your breath hitches at the attention, his lips close around your nipple, now even more sensitive than before, and sucks harshly. You feel a letdown, a combination of milk and other discharge surging out of your nipple and to his mouth. It leaks as he lets go with a pop, the stimulation he began making you leak further. Your back arches almost painfully, the throbbing of your breast dying down but still present as he cups your belly.Â
He eyes you from where he leans his head against the swell, eyes sharp and focused on your reaction. You have the urge to slap him but your body was too weak to move on your own, Ultraman having changed his rhythm of thrusts from shallow to deep. Lex knew exactly what you liked, he just never did it for you. The prick.Â
He tongues at your lower belly, right where the baby bump starts, he kisses it lightly, almost hesitantly. His saliva acted as a balm, although Ultramanâs cum had a better effect on your body.
His head meets the edges of your cunt, he watches as Ultramanâs dick stretches you open obscenely, the delicate skin of your hole pulsing and sticking to his shaft like latex. Ultraman continues to pump himself into you, one hand moving to your breast, the other nudging at your clit.Â
Luthor kisses where you both connect, your sensitive hole and his throbbing member. The sensation of his tongue makes your eyes roll back, back arching impossibly to grind against his face. Ultraman throbs against his lips from the feeling of his tongue cleaning the combination of your arousals off his cock.  Â
You feel yourself release, stomach cramping, head aching and cunt pulsing pleasure enough to make you scream.Â
And inevitably black out.Â
âŚ
You havenât been outside in a couple of weeks. All of your apartmentâs belongings have been moved to the top floor of the LuthoCorp building. The walls were lined in lead and sound proofed. Clark had mentioned how Superman could hear almost anything at all times spanning the entire world. Clearly, Lex knew that too, as the second you were left alone you screamed Superman at the top of your lungs and no one appeared to save you.
You place a hand on your back, another cupping your belly, now bigger and heavier. Your feet slide into the slippers Lex had gotten you. You pull your shirt down, sighing as the fabric slid up again.Â
Lex refused to give you larger sizes. Judging by the bulges in his pants whenever he came âhomeâ, you think he enjoyed seeing the progress of his âchildâ.
Your face morphs into silent contemplation, lips thinning out into a mute frown as you step out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. You stare at the black velvet box on the kitchen counter. Several vases full of flowers adorning the living room and kitchen.Â
The note next to it wasnât worth reading. Opening the box, you felt nothing, even if the ring was as beautiful as those you had pinned in your Pinterest boards. You put it down, placing your hands on the table and taking deep breaths in.Â
You shift the vases away as you prepare yourself breakfast, your chest festers with anxiety.Â
You think youâll just say the ring didnât fit. Your fingers were swelling.Â
Heâd believe it.
------------------
Part three is mostly from Clarkâs perspective, which will fill in some of the scenes⌠Lowk I don't know about this lol.
â summary : A small visit of Iroh II was a little bit if a blessing in disguise.
â pairing : Zuko x Fem!Reader
â word count : 4k (i woke up at 6am , and kept on writing and coming back to it and its now 10pm, the atla brainrot goes crazy until Iâm done)
â author note : Like all of the internet, youâve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point if comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.
Crashes echoed from somewhere beyond the mountains bordering Republic City. You barely had time to register it before the windows gave a rattle. Still, neither of you moved.
You and Zuko stood over a wide table scattered with blueprints. The city was finally taking shape in a real, tangible way.
You leaned forward slightly, tapping the edge of one page. âYou know⌠itâs kind of amazing how well everythingâs actually going to plan.â
Zuko let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. âItâs⌠remarkable, yeah.â His gaze stayed fixed on the plans, but his hand resting near the corner shaked, just barely unsteady. âFor something this big, I was expecting at least three disasters by now.â
You glanced up at him, catching the unease he clearly thought he was hiding.
âZuko,â you said, softer now, nudging the paper toward him, âyou should know by now you were a big part of making this work.â
He stiffened just a fraction, like the words caught him off guard. âI â He stopped, jaw tightening briefly before he shook his head. âI just helped where I could.â
You raised a brow. âYou helped build an entire city. Thatâs not exactly âwhere I could.ââ
There was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
BOOM.
The explosion hit harder this time louder, closer. The building shuddered, a deep, violent tremor that sent a ripple through the table. Papers lifted, some sliding clean off the edges.
Then Zuko moved first. âOutside. Now.â
You didnât argue. By the time you burst through the doors, the air outside had already shifted. A distant plume of dark smoke curled upward from behind the mountains, thick and wrong against the sky.
âThat wasnât just a landslide,â you muttered.
âNo,â Zuko replied, eyes narrowing as heat flickered faintly along his hands, instinct already kicking in. âIt wasnât.â
Another distant rumble followed, quieter this time. You were already moving.
âRace you?â you shot over your shoulder, grinning despite the situation.
Zuko huffed, stepping forward as flames burst from his feet in a controlled jet, lifting him smoothly into the air. âThis isnât a game.â
âEverythingâs a game if youâre fast enough.â
âYouâre being brash.â
âAnd youâre slow keep up!â
You sprinted ahead, boots pounding against the ground as the terrain shifted from clean stone to rough earth. Behind you, there was a sharp rush of heat as Zuko surged forward through the air, fire propelling him in quick bursts.
âDonât get too far ahead!â he called.
âWhat, worried youâll lose me?â you shot back.
âIâm serious!â
You glanced back just long enough to see the concern in his expression. That⌠made you slow just a fraction.
âYeah,â you said, quieter this time. âMe too.â
Another tremor rolled through the ground beneath your feet. Closer now. By the time you and Zuko reached the source of the explosion, the world⌠didnât make sense. The ground looked wrong like the earth itself had been torn up, churned, then dropped back down in the wrong order. Jagged ridges cut through what shouldâve been smooth terrain, and the soil had that dry, brittle look of something ancient rather than freshly disturbed. Thin streams of smoke curled up from the center, drifting lazily like the aftermath of something far more violent than it shouldâve been.
You slowed to a stop.
ââŚOkay,â you muttered, scanning the area. âThatâs not normal.â
Zuko landed beside you. His stance was already defensive, eyes sharp as they swept the destruction. âStay alert.â
You both exchanged a look before stepping forward. Thatâs when you heard it.
â I am going to maim KorraâŚâ
The voice dragged itself out of the smoke, rough and annoyed more than anything else.
You blinked. A figure shifted at the center of the wreckage. A man. He was pushing himself upright, clearly shaken, brushing dust from clothing that immediately caught your attention. Sleek, structured, layered in a way that felt unfamiliar advanced, almost. There was something elegant about it, even with dirt smeared across it.
He straightened fully, rolling his shoulder with a wince then noticed you and started walking closer.
Zuko stepped in front of you instantly, one arm out slightly as heat flickered to life in his palm. âStay back!â His voice cut clean through the air. âWho are you? And what are you doing here?â
The man paused, lifting his hands in a show of surrender though his expression stayed oddly relaxed for someone standing in a crater. âSorry, sorry,â he said, letting out a short, breathy laugh. âNo harm intended. My friend and I were just training and uh â he gestured vaguely behind him, â I mightâve gotten hit a little harder than expected.â
You crossed your arms, unimpressed. âThatâs a âlittleâ hardâ
Zuko didnât lower his guard. âIf this is your idea of training, whereâs your friend?â
âGood question,â the man said, turning to look around.
then⌠he frowned. ââŚHuh.â
You followed his gaze. There was nothing there. No second person. No signs of a second impact. Just broken earth stretching out in every direction.
âUm,â he said again, slower this time, scanning the horizon. âThey should be⌠around here somewhere.â
His confusion didnât look fake. ââŚWhat the heck?â he muttered under his breath.
Zukoâs stance tightened. You, on the other hand, stepped forward slipping just ahead of him.
âHey â Zuko started, annoyed.
You waved him off slightly without looking back. âRelax.â
He did not relax. You tilted your head at the stranger. âWhatâs your name?â
Zuko made a quiet, irritated sound behind you at your very bold decision making. The man straightened a bit, regaining some composure. âMy name is General Iroh. And again deepest apologies for⌠all of this.â
The moment the name left his mouth Zuko moved. Fast. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back behind him so quickly you nearly stumbled.
âHey !â you snapped, yanking slightly against his grip.
Zuko didnât let go. His eyes were locked on the man now sharp, disbelieving, and just a little furious.
âNo,â he said flatly. âYou are not.â
The man blinked, genuinely taken aback. âI⌠think I would know who I am.â
Zuko took a step forward. âThat name belongs to someone else.â
You huffed, trying to pry your arm free. âOkay wow territorial much â
âStay behind me.â
âIâm not a houseplant, Zuko.â
âNow is not the time â
âActually,â you cut in, finally slipping out of his grip and stepping up beside him again, ânow is exactly the time for everyone to take a breath before this turns into something stupid.â
You glanced between the two of them. Yeah. This was going great. You lifted your hands slightly. âOkay. Letâs all collectively take a chill pill for one second.â
Zuko didnât move. The man didnât move.
You exhaled slowly. âCool. Love that no one is listening.â
You pointed at the stranger. âYou mystery explosion guy are claiming youâre General Iroh.â
Then you jabbed a thumb toward Zuko. âAnd he knows a General Iroh, so obviously thatâs setting off about twelve alarms.â
âI figured,â the man admitted.
âGreat. So hereâs what weâre gonna do â you stepped slightly between them now, firmly claiming mediator status whether they liked it or not, â nobody attacks anybody for at least⌠five minutes.â
Zuko scoffed quietly. âI wasnât going to â
âYou were absolutely about to,â you shot back without missing a beat.
ââŚStop being rash,â he returned, shooting you a look.
You turned right back to the stranger, unimpressed. âAnd you I donât know who you are, but thatâs a really stupid claim.â
He winced, just a little. âIn my defense⌠it is my name.â
Zukoâs eye twitched.
You clapped your hands once, sharp and loud in the smoky air. âOkay! Great. Love the energy. Hate the progress.â
Neither of them laughed. You exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down your face before gesturing broadly at the wreckage around you. âNew question where do you think you are right now?â
The man opened his mouth. ââŚNot where I was supposed to be,â he admitted.
You nodded once. âYeah. Same page.â
Zuko didnât relax an inch. ââŚExplain.â
The man Iroh, allegedly ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to piece something together. âWell⌠thatâs the problem.â He glanced between the two of you. âIâm not entirely sure I can.â
âThatâs not a start,â you said flatly.
âOkay okay, wait.â He lifted his hands again, thinking fast now. âUm⌠Iâm friends with the Avatar.â
You stared at him.
Then immediately started walking toward him like you were about to escort him out yourself. âSure you are, buddy. Come on,â you said, completely dismissing him as you closed the distance. âLetâs get you somewhere that can get you the support you need.â
Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, something nagged at you. The voice. The attitude. The way he held himself. Why does he sound like?
âOh my god, you must be â You blinked as he suddenly froze, eyes going wide as he looked straight at you like youâd just solved a puzzle you didnât know you were part of.
ââŚWhat?â you said, immediately suspicious.
But he wasnât looking at you anymore. He was looking past you. âGrandpa.â
Looked at Zuko. Then back at him. Then back at Zuko. then you absolutely lost it. A loud, unrestrained cackle burst out of you as you pointed straight at Zuko. âGRANDPA?!â
Zukoâs face went from confusion to horror to pure offense in under a second. âWhat no â
You doubled over slightly, still pointing. âOh thatâs no, thatâs perfect. Fire Lord Zuko ruler of a nation reduced to â you gasped for air, â grandpa.â
âI am not â Zuko snapped, flustered now, color rising to his face. âThat doesnât even make sense!â
Behind you, the man looked just as confused. âWait no, hold on why is he so young?â
You wheezed. âOh my god, it gets better â
Zuko dragged a hand down his face, already done with this entire situation. âOkay. Thatâs enough.â
âAw, come on, grandpa, donât be like that â
âStop calling me that.â
âMake me.â
âPlease stop encouraging this,â he said through gritted teeth, clearly aiming that last part at the universe more than you.
You straightened up slightly, still grinning like youâd just been handed the best joke of your life. Zuko turned back to the stranger, voice sharp again though now carrying a very clear thread of personal irritation.âAlright. Thatâs it. Youâre coming with us.â
âWait, I â the man started.
âNo arguments,â Zuko cut in, already stepping forward.
You snorted. âYeah, okay, psycho letâs get you out of here.â
âHey,â the man protested weakly, âIâm not a psycho â
âDebatable,â you and Zuko said at the exact same time.
You glanced at him, then at Zuko.
ââŚOkay that was a little cool,â you admitted.
Zuko huffed. âDonât.â
Behind you, the man rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at Zuko like he was trying to solve a very personal mystery.
ââŚAre you not together?â he asked carefully.
Zuko confused just said. âNo.â
You tilted your head, studying the stranger again, that earlier thought creeping back in. ââŚI donât know,â you muttered. âHe does kinda sound like you.â
Zuko shot you a look. âDonât.â
You grinned. âWhat? Iâm just saying if you had a future kid or something â
âIâm going to start ignoring you.â
âYou already try.â A beat. ââŚIt doesnât work.â
You smiled sweetly. Zuko sighed. behind both of you, the so called General Iroh just stood there, watching the two of you with disbelief.
ââŚYeah,â he murmured under his breath. âThat tracks.â
Bringing him into the city only made things⌠stranger. Youâd expected resistance. maybe. At the very least, a little attitude. The guy looked like youâd just dropped him into the most impressive place heâd ever seen. His head kept turning as you walked taking in the buildings, the streets, the movement of people, the bending, the life of it all. His eyes lingered on everything just a second too long, like he was trying to memorize it.
You couldnât help the small flicker of pride that settled in your chest.
âYeah,â you said casually as you led him along, ânot bad for something that âwasnât supposed to work,â right?â
âItâsâŚâ he trailed off, almost smiling to himself. âItâs incredible.â
You smirked a little. âIâll take that.â
Now he sat across from you securely locked in a holding room, because you werenât completely reckless though the way he carried himself made it feel more like he was visiting than detained. Zuko had already stormed off to find Aang, leaving you behind with a firm donât do anything stupid.
Naturally, you stayed. Because you absolutely wanted to hear more from the âpossibly insane stranger.â
You leaned back slightly, arms crossed. âSo⌠Iroh.â
He looked up at you, calm as ever. âYou know thatâs a very special name to my friend,â you added, watching him carefully.
âI know,â he said easily. âAnd Iâm very grateful for my name.â
That answer⌠didnât feel rehearsed. You tilted your head, studying him. âYou donât seem like a bad person. Of course,â you added lightly, âthat could be famous last words.â
He let out a small breath of a laugh, quieter than before. âI suppose thatâs fair.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke. he looked at you again âI never really got to know you,â he said softly.
You blinked. âThatâs because we just met.â
He shook his head faintly, like that wasnât quite what he meant. âYouâre⌠very kind.â
You stared at him for a second. Then narrowed your eyes slightly. âYou say crazier things the longer youâre here.â
That earned a small smile. âYeah,â he admitted under his breath. âIâm starting to notice that.â
You shifted your weight, leaning one shoulder against the wall now. âSo⌠umâŚâ he hesitated, âHow are you and Zuko?â
You blinked at the sudden shift. âWhat? Him and I? well hes one of my best friends,â you answered, like it was obvious.
âFriends?â he repeated.
âYeah,â you said slowly, narrowing your eyes again. âWhat about it?â
âNothing nothing,â he said quickly, but there was something off about the way he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. âThis is just⌠weird.â
You pushed off the wall slightly, stepping closer to the bars.
âWeird how?â
He exhaled, glancing back at you hesitating like he was deciding how much to say.
âBecause where Iâm from,â he said carefully, âthatâs⌠not exactly how I wouldâve described it.â
You stared at him. ââŚOkay,â you said slowly. He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
His smile softened again but there was something behind it now. Something heavier. ââŚYou matter to him,â he said. You didnât answer right away. He continued, quieter this time. âA lot more than just âfriend.ââ
You held his gaze, trying to decide if he was messing with you, guessing, or⌠something else entirely.
ââŚYouâre very bizarre,â you said finally,
That was the last you saw of him. Aang showed up not long after with Katara close behind and between the two of them, things moved quickly. Youâd tried to linger. Zuko had given you a look.
Not harsh but firm enough that you knew when you were being gently pushed out of the room. So you left it. The next morning, when curiosity inevitably dragged you back, he was gone. You stood there for a moment longer than you needed to, staring at the empty space like it might give you something if you looked hard enough.
ââŚHuh,â you muttered to yourself. that was that. Just another strange, unexplainable thing to add to the growing list.
it didnât stay that simple. Because as the day went on. you kept catching yourself drifting back to it. You leaned against a railing overlooking one of the busier streets, arms folded loosely as your gaze tracked the movement below without really seeing it.
ââŚWeird,â you murmured again, softer this time.
Your fingers tapped absently against your arm as your thoughts shifted unavoidably to Zuko.
To the way youâd answered without thinking: Heâs one of my best friends. You exhaled slowly through your nose. âYeah,â you muttered under your breath. âThatâs normal.â
It was normal. You and Zuko fought. Constantly, sometimes. You pushed, he snapped back, you ignored him, he got annoyed it was just how things worked. There was nothing strange about it.
Your jaw tightened just slightly. Then why did that answer feel⌠incomplete?
You shifted your weight, straightening a little as your gaze drifted upward toward the skyline toward the palace where he was probably still dealing with whatever Aang had uncovered.
The memory slipped back in whether you wanted it to or not âFriends?â
You huffed quietly. âWell, what was I supposed to say?â
You werenât wrong. Zuko was your best friend. One of the most important people in your life. The one you ended up next to in every situation without really thinking about it.
Your fingers curled slightly against your sleeve. ââŚOkay,â you said under your breath, âWeâre not doing that.â
Doing what, exactly, you didnât clarify. You pushed off the railing, starting to walk again just to have something else to focus on.
âYou matter to him.â
You frowned slightly, your steps slowing despite yourself. ââŚPeople matter to people,â you muttered, like that settled it.
Right? Zuko cared about a lot of people. His uncle. His friends. The city. His responsibility. You werenât⌠special in that way. Were you?
Your stomach did something uncomfortable at the thought, and you immediately scowled like you could bully the feeling into going away.
âNope,â you said quietly. âAbsolutely not.â
You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling. This was ridiculous. Youâd faced worse than confusing strangers and their cryptic comments. Way worse. This shouldnât be the thing that stuck.
âHey.â Your shoulders tensed just slightly at the sound of his voice behind you.
âI brought you some ginseng tea.â
You turned and immediately broke into a laugh. âYou did not.â There he was Zuko, standing there, holding what was very clearly a vase.
He frowned slightly, glancing down at it like he was only now reconsidering his choices. âIt holds liquid.â
âThatâs not the point,â you laughed, stepping closer anyway. âWhere did you even get that?â
ââŚIt was there,â he said, like it explained anything.
âOf course it was.â
He held it out toward you, just a little more insistently now. âCareful. Itâs hot.â
Your laughter softened into something quieter as you reached out, taking it from him carefully despite yourself. The ceramic was warm against your hands too warm, really and you adjusted your grip quickly.
âYeah, no kidding, did you boil the ocean?â
He huffed. âYou complain a lot for someone who hasnât burned themselves yet.â
âIâm working on it.â
You looked down at the tea, watching the faint curl of steam rise from the surface.
ââŚI appreciate it,â you said, more sincerely this time.
Zuko didnât answer right away. He was already watching you. Your grip tightened slightly around the vase.
ââŚWhat?â you asked, a little too quickly.
âNothing,â he said, just as fast.
You narrowed your eyes. âyoure so weird.â
He exhaled sharply, looking away for a second like he was deciding whether this was worth it.
ââŚYouâve been quiet,â he said finally.
You blinked.
âThatâs your big observation?â
âYouâre usually louder.â
âWow. Deep.â
âIâm serious.â
You glanced back down at the tea, buying yourself a second. âIâve just been thinking.â
âAbout him.â You tilted your head slightly. âAmong other things.â
Zukoâs jaw tightened just a fraction. âAang and Katara thought he might be telling the truth.â
You snorted softly. âOf course they do.â
âThey also thought he might not be from here.â
That made you look up again.
ââŚDefine ânot from here.ââ
Zuko hesitated. âAs in not just another place. Another⌠time.â
You looked down at the tea. Then back at him. ââŚYouâre joking.â
âIâm not.â
A small silence settled between you. ââŚHuh,â you said. You shifted your weight, leaning back slightly against the railing again.
ââŚHe said some weird things,â you admitted.
Zukoâs eyes flicked back to you. âLike what?â
You hesitated. Then shrugged, aiming for casualness and missing it slightly. âNothing important.â
Zuko didnât buy it. You could tell. âNothing?â he pressed.
âNothing,â you repeated. ââŚHe asked about us.â
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Zuko stilled. âUs?â he echoed.
You immediately regretted everything.
âNot us, us,â you said quickly, gesturing vaguely with the vase and nearly sloshing tea over the edge. âJust you and me. As people. Existing. Near each other.â
âWhat did you say?â
âThat youâre my best friend,â you said, a little more defensive than you meant to.
Zuko blinked. That answer caught him off guard. ââŚOh,â he said.
You frowned slightly. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âNothing,â he said, a little too quickly again.
You narrowed your eyes. He looked away, jaw tightening slightly. âItâs justâ
He stopped. ââŚWhat?â you pushed.
Zuko exhaled slowly, the words were heavier than they shouldâve been. ââŚIs that all it is?â he asked.
Your heart did something very unhelpful in your chest. You stared at him. ââŚWhat?â
He didnât look back at you this time. âNothing,â he said again, quieter now.
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. âOh, now you donât get to do that. You asked the question.â
âI shouldnât have.â
Silence stretched between you again but this time it felt different. You shifted your grip on the vase, the warmth of it suddenly a lot more noticeable.
ââŚWhy does it matter?â you asked, softer now.
Zuko didnât answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. âI donât know.â
ââŚYeah,â you murmured. âMe neither.â
âI, um⌠I think that youâre very kind.â You blinked, looking up at Zuko like heâd just spoken a different language.
ââŚGee. Thanks.â
He frowned immediately, like that wasnât what he meant. âNo, Iâ
âI think youâre a very tolerable person,â he added awkwardly.
âZuko, Iâm going to hit you.â
âStop,â he said quickly, holding up a hand like you might actually follow through. âIâm trying to say something.â
He exhaled slowly, he was bracing himself.
âI also think⌠that that person means what he says.â
Zuko swallowed, jaw tensing before he forced himself to keep going.
âHe made me think of a future with you.â His voice dipped lower, âAnd then I thought about a future without you and itâ He stopped, shaking his head once like he didnât even want to finish the thought. âIt made me sick.â
Something in your chest twisted hard enough that it almost knocked the breath out of you.
âZukoâ you started, but he didnât let you stop him this time.
âI donât know when it changed,â he said, more firmly now, like heâd finally found the thing he was trying to say. âOr if it always felt like this and I just didnât realize it⌠I want to create that future with you.â
You stared at him, your mind trying and failing to catch up with everything that was said.
ââŚYouâre really bad at this,â you said quietly.
His expression faltered. âIâ
âBut,â you added just as quickly, stepping a little closer, âthank you.â
âThat guy whoever he isâ you continued softly, âhe didnât just see something that wasnât there.â
Zukoâs breath hitched just slightly.
You tilted your head, a faint smile pulling at your lipsnot teasing this time, but something softer. âHe might've just helped us change everythingâ
Your gaze dropped briefly to the vase still in your hands before you carefully set it down on the railing beside you, freeing your hands.
ââŚSo,â you said, a little lighter, even if your heart was still racing, âthis future youâre planningâ
Zuko stiffened slightly. âI didnât say I planned itâ
âam I still allowed to call you grandpa in it?â
He stared at you. ââŚAbsolutely not.â
You grinned.
âThen Iâll think about it.â
He groaned quietly, dragging a hand over his face but there was a smile there now, breaking through despite himself.
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â ATLA : one shot : you've got to be good in bed
â summary : Beach day! (set around the time period of the leaked movie đ)
â pairing : Toph Beifong x Any!Reader
â word count : anotha short one
â author note : Like all of the internet, youâve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point if comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.
âââââ-
âYou know, Toph because youâre like⌠super in tune with vibrations and feelings or whatever â
Toph was digging her toes into the sand. âyoure speaking weirdâ
âWhat? Iâm just saying â you leaned in a little, lowering your voice like you were about to reveal a deep philosophical thought. â Does that mean youâre like⌠really good at sex?â
Tophâs head snapped up so fast it was honestly impressive for someone who âcouldnât see.â Her face went red before her expression hardened into something feral.
ââŚyou wanna repeat that, loud enough for the entire beach to hear?â
You opened your mouth. The sand beneath your feet shifted.
âWAIT â
Too late. The ground launched you straight into the air like a catapult.
âIM JUST CURIOUS !â
You flailed above the sand mountain while somewhere below, Toph dusted her hands off like sheâd just taken out the trash.
âYouâre curious? Great. Be curious from up there!â
You hit the sand with a very undignified whump, coughing as grains got everywhere they absolutely should not be.
From a short distance away, you turned back toward Toph, pouting despite the sand stuck to your cheek. âI was just curiousâŚâ
Toph tilted her head slightly, a slow grin spreading across her face.
âOh, I know you were,â she said sweetly. âYour heartbeat spiked, your breathing got weird.â
You froze.
ââŚyou can tell all that?â
She smirked, crossing her arms. âPlease. I can feel everythingâ
You stare at her in a bit of shock and suddenly flushing. âThat explains so much, actually.â
Toph took a step closer, the sand crunching under her heel as she leaned in just enough to be intimidating.
âAnd for the record,â she added, voice low and smug, âif I was good at anything, youâd never be brave enough to ask me about it.â
A small rock smacked into your shin.
âOW HEY â
âNext question like that,â Toph said, already turning away, âyou wont like the outcomeâ
You huffed, brushing yourself off. ââŚstill didnât answer the question.â
â summary : Spending time in the water tribe has been more relaxing than expected, especially after the war
â pairing : Sokka x Fem!Reader
â word count : idk short, i dont want to check
â author note : Like all of the internet, youâve probably seen the leaks for the movie. I think its very important that when and if at this point it comes out, you go support it in any way possible. I myself dont want to just see slop forever and that means we must support the artists that put in the work.
For all that your partner was worth, at least he wasâŚ. an amazing story teller. Albeit an egotistical one.
âAnd thatâs when I said,â Sokka continued, pacing with his boomerang slung over his shoulder, ââYou can take our sky bison, but youâll never take our ââ
âOur what?â one of the kids interrupted.
Sokka paused. ââŚOur⌠dignity.â
The kids gasped anyway. Perfect. Sokka smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and kept going. âSo there I was, outnumbered, outmatched, and letâs be honest better looking than everyone else involved â
Two of the kids nodded seriously. You snickered to yourself knowing damn well about any of the adventures from what katara has told you and for a fact that their earlier adventures were always a little rocky.
The third squinted. âWerenât you the guy who got stuck in a hole that one time?â
Sokka froze. ââŚWhat?â
âThe hole,â the kid repeated. âMy cousin said you fell in oneâ
The other two kids turned to Sokka, waiting. Sokka blinked. Once. Twice. His confidence visibly deflated.
âfirst of all dont start believing just what people tell youâ he said, pointing defensively. âAnd second of all, I climbed out myself. Mostly.â
The kid tilted their head. âSo you did fall in a hole.â
Sokka opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. From a short distance away, you couldnât hold it in anymore you laughed.
Not loud enough to completely ruin him, but definitely loud enough for him to hear. Sokkaâs head snapped toward you. âHey! You! no commentary from the peanut gallery!â
You raised your hands innocently, still grinning. âI didnât say anything.â
âYoure supposed to be my number one supporter.â
The kids turned to you now, curious, as if you might confirm the story. You just shrugged. âHe also once thought a cactus was a good source of energy.â
Sokka groaned. âOkay, that was one time and I was dehydrated!â
The kids burst into giggles. Sokka sighed, dragging a hand down his face. ââŚI had them. I had them.â
You stepped a little closer, still smiling. âYou still do. Theyâre just getting the full version now.â
He shot you a look. âYou are not invited to my storytelling sessions anymore.â
âToo late,â you said, settling nearby. âlike you said, im your number one fan.â
âI said supporter but i suppose you can have a promotionâ Clearly giddy that you're here.
One of the kids piped up again, eyes shining. âTell us about the cactus!â
Sokka groaned louder this time, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
ââŚFine. if anything this can be a cautionary tale about how strong my body is.â
âOf courseâ you muttered.
he was back in it while the kids leaned in, completely hooked all over again. You stayed off to the side, arms loosely crossed, watching the performance with a kind of fondness you hadnât expected to feel when all of this started.
It still felt strange sometimes how quickly things had changed over the course of a few years. Not long ago, youâd stood on the opposite side of the war. Loyal to the Fire Nation, to the Fire Lord, to everything youâd been raised to believe was right. And then Zuko had shown up, insistent, asking no, pushing you to see things differently. To trust him.
You hadnât switched sides âin an instant.â That was the version people liked to tell.
The truth was that you thought Zuko was full of shit. Unfortunately he was someone that you trusted so you went along with it somehow, against your better judgment, you trusted him anyway.
That trust had pulled you straight into the orbit of Aang and the rest of them. At first, it was because of Zuko. The two of you had fallen into step easily, like nothing had really changed between you. Late night conversations, understanding, standing side by side in battles that actually meant something now.
Call it teenage romance or whatever you want to call it but you and Zuko really did care for each other but it mightve been the height of everything and having a person to rely on. You moving away from your family to help him was less moving away and you getting kicked out
Meanwhile, Sokka had been⌠well, Sokka. Youâd liked Suki almost immediately anyone with that much confidence and skill was impossible not to admire and the gaang had very easily (sorta) won during the final stretch of the war.
But things changed after. Suki went back to Kyoshi Island. Zuko⌠became Fire Lord.
And Sokka You glanced over at him now as he crouched in front of the kids, lowering his voice whispering the story. (clearly embarrassed even though you know the real story)
Sokka stayed⌠Sokka.
The Water Tribe wasnât what you were used to. It was colder, quieter in some ways, people didnât look at you like they trusted you right away not after where you came from but they didnât shut you out either. It helped that Sokka never treated you like you didnât belong. Even when neither of you could really define why you were both still here.
ââŚand thatâs when I single handedly made sure no one was poisoned,â Sokka was saying now, puffing up slightly.
âYou mean you drank a random plantâ one of the kids asked.
Sokka pointed at them. âWe are talking about looking out for your teammates."
You laughed again, softer this time. He glanced over at you, catching it, and rolled his eyes.
âAnyway,â he continued quickly, trying to recover his momentum, âthe point is I am a highly trained warrior.â
âThen why do you live here?â another kid asked innocently. âShouldnât you be⌠somewhere important?â
His eyes flicked toward you without thinking. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over, stepping into the edge of the little circle. âHe is somewhere important, protecting you allâ
Sokka blinked. The kids looked between you both. To answer their confusion. You shrugged lightly. âSomeone has to keep an eye on him.â.
Then one of the kids grinned. âOhhh, so youâre in charge.â
Sokka scoffed immediately. âI am absolutely in charge.â
âSure you are,â you said under your breath.
He shot you a look. âgive me some grace ladyâ
You met his gaze for a moment, oh how you love how freaking weird he is. ââŚYeah,â you said, smiling.
Maybe he had rubbed off on you more than you liked to admit. You clapped your hands once, turning to the kids. âAlright, showâs over. Get out before I start kicking you all out myself.â
They stared at you. âWow,â one of them said, unimpressed. âWhatâs your problem, lady?â
âYour face,â you shot back immediately, pointing toward the door. âNow go. Before I tell Sokka to put cactus juice in your food.â
They scattered, laughing and shouting protests as they pushed out the door, one of them yelling, âHe would do it!â over their shoulder.
The door shut behind them, and just like that, the room went quiet. You exhaled softly, a small smile still on your face as you turned back. Sokka was already looking at you. âWhat?â you asked, raising a brow, though your voice came out lighter than you expected. ââŚyour confidence repels me,â you said lying through your teeth as you stepped closer anyway, like something unseen kept pulling you in.
Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away for half a second before looking back at you again. âYou didnât have to follow me out here. Missed home, I just⌠didnât think youâd stay this long.â
You tilted your head. âYou trying to get rid of me?â
âHey no,â he said quickly. âNo, I just â He exhaled, trying again. âIâm glad you did.â
âWow,â you said dryly. âDonât get all soft on me, tough guy.â
He groaned. âI was being sincere.â
âI can be sincere and a little bossy.â you state switching the topic to yourself
âUh huh,â he said, folding his arms again. âSure. What do you got?â
You stepped into him before he could overthink it, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down just enough to meet you. âkissing me.â
He didnât get the chance to respond properlyâoh â before your lips met his.
his hands found your waist faster than anyone could blink, pulling you closer. When you pulled back, it wasnât far. Close enough that you could still feel his breath hitch a little, like he was catching up.
ââŚOkay,â he said finally, blinking once. âThat was â
âDonât ruin it,â you cut in, narrowing your eyes slightly.
He shut his mouth immediately to frown.
ââŚI was going to say âsuper amazing awesome,ââ he tried.
You stared at him with a smirk displayed on your face.
He winced. âRight. Still ruining it.â
âUnbelievable,â you muttered but you didnât move away.
If anything, your hands stayed exactly where they were. âSo,â he said, quieter now, âwanna head home?â
You smile in return. âLet's go home.â you say while grabbing his hand.
Sokka smiling like an idiot while you both leave.
you turn to him once more. âoh by the way, im so the one in chargeâ
Spitting your gum into katsukiâs hand right before an interview.
Your schedule had been packed. Back-to-back segments and interviews all in preparation for the holiday special that had been promoted to raise money over the winter break. The exact charity has long since evaded you, but it's coming up on your tenth hour since your first meal, and between your growling stomach and growing headache, the only thing you can think of is being able to sink your teeth into whatever bland-ass meal catering was offering.Â
You chew on your gum as you slouch into the couch, the stage lights heat you to the point of overstimulation. With a deep breath, you let your head loll back, feeling the ache in your shoulders loosen as you relax further, eyes slipping closed for a moment of reprieve.Â
âHave you eaten?â The familiar voice of your partner fills your head, then two fingers tap against your temple to catch your attention.
The couch dips as Katsuki sits next to you, the smell of caramel and vanilla engulfing you, sending your mouth watering. Fuck, why did he have to smell so sweet!
You answer with a hum, shaking your head no before opening your mouth, the long chewed up gum on show on your tongue. Sure the display is unladylike and kinda gross but youâve been together for far too long for it to be an issue.
âIs this you asking me to feed you like a baby bird?â Bakugou chuckles, his calloused fingers running over your cheek.
âHave you eaten?â You parrot his question, finally opening your eyes to catch a glimpse of your fiancĂŠe. Dressed in his press suit, the ache in your head eases at his comforting presence. All you want to do is go home, order food and watch tv in bed till you both pass out.
Katsuki grunts. âI had a protein bar but thatâs it.â
You groan, flinging your head back dramatically. Fuck you are so hungry!
âWas it good?â You peek an eye open, lips pulled down in a frown.
âNo.â Katsuki lies for your own sake. âIt was the gross ones you hate, the cookies and cream oneâ another lie but he doesnât want to rub it in.
The frown on your face deepens. âIâd fuck up a cookies and cream protein bar right now. Iâd eat the wrapper and everything.â Your sigh is wistful, too focused on imagining the taste and feeling of a fully belly.
âCan you order something so itâs ready when we get home, please.â
âAlready done, pretty girl.â Katsuki cups your cheek, loving the way you hum and lean into his hand. âGot dessert too.â
âYou treat me so well.â You mummer, kissing his palm.
Itâs Katsukiâs turn to hum. âItâs the bare minimum, baby. Gotta make sure youâre healthy and fed.â
You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by production announcing you have a minute before cameras start rolling at you go live.
âDynamight, could you leave the stage please.â
Katsuki rolls his eyes, jaw clenching in irritation but he stands nonetheless, too tired to cause a scene.
Your hair and make up team rush in to prep you, fixing smudge liner and fly aways in a frenzied rush.
âKnock âem dead, sweetheart. Love you.â He leans in once more, ducking around your team to press a kiss to your forehead.
Your make up artist huffs as she swipes more powder over the kiss.
âLive in, 10, 9, 8..â
The girls leave you as quick as they came, Bakugou backing away with them.
â6, 5, 4..â
âThe gum!!â Your managerâs voice cuts through the count down. Fuck. Eyes widening, you turn to scan for a bin, the piece of confectionary already between your teeth.
â3,2..â
You are met with Katsukiâs hand under your chin and a simple âSpitâ
As if on autopilot you open your lips and spit the gum into his waiting palm, quickly wiping at your bottom lip. With a quick burst of flames, the gum is incinerated into dust as Katsuki takes a step back out of frame.
You turn to the interviewer, a long time friend from back in UA, ready to smile and laugh but they are staring back with wide eyes. Their eyes dart from you to the camera, then back to a cackling Katsuki standing in the wings, your manager the complete opposite next to him, already furiously typing on their phone.
The red light of the LIVE sign casting a glow around the room. Shit. Yes, the world knew you and Dynamight were close but the exact nature of your relationship had been kept out of the tabloids by request of both you and Bakugou, and now well, there is no denying the rumours constantly circling you.
The phone in your pocket buzzes with a text from the prohero as he is ushered to his last segment.
if you still write for Sally Face, can I request a Larry x reader fic where it's like that one Regular Show fic you made and Larry is venting again about being lonely and Sal brings up reader since he's mentioned liking them and then that gives Larry the idea to pursue them? Sorry if this is confusing, you can change up the end a bit because I'm not too sure about that part, but thank you! If you don't write for SF anymore you can just ignore this đЎ
â Sally Face :Â one shot : SOUNDING STUPID
â summary : Larry Johsnon is a loser and doesnt know hot to talk to a pretty girl even if it is best friendÂ
â pairing : Larry Johnson x Fem!Reader
â author note : OKOKOK, so like I started writing this, and it definitely wasn't exactly what you were looking for. I think I got lost in the end, but something short and sweet, so I can get myself back into writing again!
Larry leaned back, staring at the ceiling. âUrethralâ
âI donât like that start,â Sal grimaced immediately, sitting up straighter on the couch.
Larry didnât even blink. â sounding.â
Sal whipped his head toward him. âAnd I was right. What the fuck are you talking about?â
Larry shrugged, completely unfazed. âIâm just thinking of ways I can out freak the one.â
Sal stared at him for a long moment, then dragged a hand down his face. âWhy canât you be into normal weird things, like hitting each other?â
Larry broke into a grin. âSal, be so for real. Of course Iâm into that.â
Sal flattened his lips, unimpressed. He turned away with a deep breath, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the scuffed floor. The joke had landed the way Larry probably intended.
After a second, Sal glanced back. Larry wasnât grinning anymore. He was staring off again, fingers fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sleeve. He looked like he was searching for the next outrageous thing to say, like if he could just stay one step ahead of everyoneâs discomfort, he wouldnât have to sit in his own.
Everyone knew Larry didnât exactly have the best track record when it came to⌠well, anything involving consistency. It was kind of funny until you sat with it a little too long and realized there was something a bit sad tucked underneath the jokes.
Sal let out a quiet sigh, softer this time, like he didnât want it to sound as heavy as it felt. âSomeoneâll find you, bro.â
Larry huffed out a laugh, glancing over at him. âSays you.â
Sal nudged his shoe against Larryâs, a small, grounding gesture. âYeah. Says me.â He paused, then added with a slight smirk, âDidnât you say our dear old friend is coming?â
Larry groaned, rolling his eyes. âEw, donât talk like youâre fifty. But yeah our dear old friend is coming.â
âSick,â Sal said, leaning back a bit. âFeels like I havenât seen her in forever.â
âDamn, bro. Maybe you need to get good. I see her almost every day.â
Right on cue, footsteps echoed up the stairs light, quick, familiar. Then you appeared in the doorway, holding up a bag. âHello, my favorite little emos. I come bearing gifts.â
Larry practically lit up, sitting up straighter. âThank God. I was starting to think Sal wasnât going to feed me.â His eyes zeroed in on the bag.
âOh, you poor baby,â you said, stepping closer, your tone dripping with mock sympathy.
Larry leaned in, already reaching but just before his fingers could brush the bag, you lifted a hand and pressed a finger lightly against his forehead, stopping him in his tracks.
âGet on your knees and beg for it.â
âBoooo,â Larry shot back immediately, leaning away with a scoff. âYou loser. Not happening.â
Sal watched the exchange like he always did. You and Larry had the strangest dynamic for two people who insisted, constantly, that there was nothing going on between you.
âWell,â you said with a casual shrug, pulling the bag back toward your chest, âguess these are just for Sal and me, then.â
Larryâs head snapped toward you. âWhy does Sal get it for free?â
You clicked your tongue, stepping closer again, tilting your head up just enough to meet his eyes. you pointed toward the floor. âBecause,â you said sweetly, âhe doesnât make me work for it.â
Larry stared at you for a second, jaw tightening like he was debating whether to play along or just tackle you for the bag. He would never say it out loud but fuck were you so hot when you acted like this.Â
Then, in the most exaggerated voice he could manage, he bent his knees just a little barely committing. âOh great one, please, oh please, grace me with your sweetness.â
You narrowed your eyes. âWeak. Whimper for me.â
âFuck off,â he muttered instantly before dipping down just enough to snatch the bag straight out of your hands from below.
âHey !â
Larry was already backing up, a victorious grin spreading across his face as he held the bag up like a trophy. âSurvival of the fittest.â
You just laughed, shaking your head as you turned to Sal. âSo what were you two weirdos doing before I got here? You both look slumped.â
Sal glanced over at Larry, then back at you. âNothing much. Just Larry complaining about his love life.â
âHey â Larry started, muffled slightly as he dug through the bag.
âWell,â you cut in, crossing your arms with a teasing tilt of your head, âI think heâs a lost cause and should probably just give up. Might have to settle for me at this point.â
Salâs eyes flicked toward Larry, something clicking into place behind his mask. Larry, meanwhile, was already looking at you. âYou couldnât handle all this,â Larry shot back, pointing down at himself.
You choked out a laugh. âYou wish.â The moment hung for just a beat longer than usual before you clapped your hands together lightly. âOkay, well I know I just got here, but my mom called me on the way over. Iâve gotta head out.â
Sal immediately sat up straighter. âOh shit. Yeah, we should actually plan something properly soon.â
He stood and pulled you into a quick hug.
âOf course,â you said warmly, squeezing him back. âI miss you, Sal, so much.â
âYou got here like a minute ago?!â Larry huffed from across the room, a lollipop now tucked between his lips as he sank deeper into the bean bag.
You pulled away from Sal, already turning toward Larry. âIâm literally seeing you later today, my guy.â
You walked over to him without hesitation. He didnât even move just watched you, slightly slouched, eyes following every step like he forgot how to function for a second. Then, you reached down, plucked the lollipop straight out of his mouth and popped it into yours.
From behind you, Salâs jaw practically hit the floor. Larry blinked once. Twice. Did that just?
âMmm,â you hummed, completely unfazed, smiling around the candy. âThis oneâs good.â just like that, you turned and headed out, tossing a quick wave over your shoulder like you hadnât just detonated a bomb in the room.
The door clicked shut. Silence. Sal slowly turned his head toward Larry, eyes narrowed behind his prosthetic, absolute disbelief radiating off of him. Larry, meanwhile, was still staring at the door then down at the candy bag then back at the door again, like his brain was lagging.
Sal didnât say anything at first. He just stared. Hard.
âDude,â Larry said finally, glancing over and immediately recoiling a bit, âyouâre scaring me. You look like youâre about to kill me.â
Sal didnât move. Didnât blink. Didnât speak.
Larry shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the intensity, and grabbed a handful of candy, chucking a few pieces at him. âStop it. Youâre being weird.â
A gummy bounced off Salâs shoulder. Another hit his chest. Still nothing.Then, finallyÂ
âYou stupid fuck,â Sal said flatly.
Larry blinked again. âWhat did I do?!â
Sal just kept staring at him, like he was watching the slowest, most painful train wreck in real time. âNot to use your words,â he said flatly, âbut you vanilla ass bitch.â
âExcuse you, mister BDSM,â Larry shot back, sitting up a little straighter. âWhat are you even talking about?â
âI think you need to stop smoking weed,â Sal muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. âItâs actually bad for my mental health at this point.â
âWell, thatâs not happening anytime soon,â Larry shrugged, already reaching back into the candy like nothing was wrong.
Sal leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. âLarry. You have a really pretty girl who is very obviously into you and you just gave her nothing back.â
Larry frowned, the words hitting somewhere he didnât want to acknowledge. âThatâs different. Sheâs our friend.â
Sal tilted his head. âIs Ash and I different?â
âYes,â Larry said immediately. âYou two have been hard for each other since day one. It was obvious.â
Sal gave a small, humorless huff. âExactly. And this?â He gestured vaguely toward the door youâd just walked out of. âThis is obvious too. Youâre just choosing to be stupid about it.â
Larry leaned back again, dragging a hand through his hair. âItâs not like that.â
âIt is like that,â Sal pressed. âShe flirts with you constantly. you're being a pathetic little bitch boyâ
âI am not â
âYou are,â Sal cut in. âeverything she did you almost looked like a kicked puppy looking for guidance.â
Larry opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw tightening. âPlus,â Sal added, leaning back now, voice quieter but sharper, âif I remember correctly, you were just complaining earlier about how you wish someone would out freak you.â
Larry shot him a look.
Sal raised an eyebrow behind his mask. âSeems like someone canât handle her.â
Larry scoffed, but it came out weaker than he meant it to. âI can handle her.â
âYeah?â Sal said, unimpressed. âThen why aren't you doing something about itâ
Larry didnât answer right away. His fingers tightened slightly around the crinkled candy bag, eyes dropping to it like it suddenly required all his attention.
ââŚItâs different,â he muttered again, but there was less conviction in it this time.
Sal watched him for a second, then shook his head. âYouâre gonna fumble this so hard, man.â
Larry huffed out a quiet laugh, but it didnât quite land. âIâm not fumbling anything.â
Sal leaned back, crossing his arms. âSure buddy.â
It was later, you were now in his room just lounging about. You were sprawled on Larryâs bed, your shoulder tucked into his side, your laptop balanced on your thighs as it wheezed through whatever sketchy site you were using. The screen flickered every now and then like it was in its last life. Larry was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm resting behind his head. To you, the silence didnt feel any out of the ordinary. You figured he was off in his own little world, probably dancing with the devils lettuce, probably thinking about something random.
he wasnât. He was thinking about you. He caught himself wondering what it would be like to call you his girlfriend. Thinking back to what Sal had said, like it wouldnât sound insane, right? What it would feel like to walk around with his arm around your waist instead of just brushing past you or bumping shoulders like it was all accidental.
What it would be like to kiss you. Not the joking, almost kind you threw around but real.
His jaw shifted slightly as he stared at the ceiling. He thought about how you looked when you got bossy with him, telling him what to do like you owned him. How youâd grab his wrist and drag him somewhere without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like when youâd sit behind him and start braiding his hair out of nowhere because you were bored, fingers working through it without even asking. He never told you how much he liked that. Never told you heâd sit there longer than he needed to just so you wouldnât stop.
It hit him slowly, but when it did it felt like the world was spinning. Maybe this wasnât just a joke. Maybe it hadnât been for a while. Before he could spiral too far into that realization, your laptop crackled and suddenly music started playing through the tinny speakers.
âI know youâre more into metal,â you said casually, not even looking up, âbut hypothetically, boyband music might be my new everything.â
Larry blinked, pulled out of his head. âJust because I listen to metal doesnât mean I wonât delve into other music.â
That got your attention. You glanced over at him, one eyebrow raised. âYou wanna bet on that?â
âBet.â
You didnât even hesitate. âNew Kids on the Block.â
Larry scoffed. âYou think Iâm not fucking with Step by Step?â
You turned toward him fully now, squinting. âAbsolutely not.â
âWell, youâre right,â he admitted immediately, lips twitching, âbut I could be a boyband guy and youâll never know.â
âMm hmm. Sure,â you hummed, unconvinced.
You went back to your laptop, scrolling aimlessly as another song queued up, your voice soft as you hummed along without really thinking about it.
âHey,â Larry said, still staring at the ceiling. âDo you think Iâd be boyband material?â
âWhat do you mean?â you replied, barely glancing up from your screen.
He hesitated. âLike⌠am I pretty boy enough for all those losers?â
That made you pause. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him, really look at him this time. âAre you asking me if I think youâre pretty?â
He immediately recoiled. âThe fuck no. I would never.â
You didnât even flinch. âLarry Johnson, I genuinely think you are the prettiest ever.â
It came out so easily. Larry scoffed on instinct, turning his head away from you like the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating again. âEw. Gross.â
But the tips of his ears were already red.
âWant me to prove it?â you said, a small grin tugging at your lips as you shifted a little closer.
âStop being weird,â he muttered quickly, shoulders tensing just enough to give him away. âJesus.â
You snorted softly. âFine, fine. Just bothering you.â
Larry stayed still for a second, then another. His jaw tightened slightly, he didnât know where to put the feeling that just landed in his chest. Prettiest. He huffed quietly under his breath, trying to brush it off, but it didnât really work. His eyes flicked toward you for a split second just enough to catch the way you were still humming, completely unbothered, like you hadnât just said something that stuck to him harder than it shouldâve.
ââŚYouâre so fucking weird,â he muttered, but there was no bite to it. His arm shifted just slightly. This time, it didnât stop. Slowly, almost like he could still pretend it wasnât intentional, he let it rest around your shoulders. He didnât look at you when he did it. Just stared at the ceiling again, heart beating a little faster than it should for something so small.
ââŚDonât make it a thing,â he added under his breath.
Now it was your turn to flush. Flirting had always been easy. Safe, even. It was your thing between you two. If it ever got too real, you could laugh it off, call it a joke, hide behind the rhythm youâd built together. His arm around you. The way he said that like it could be something. It made your chest feel tight.
âA thing,â you echoed, a little quieter than you meant to. The words sat wrong in your mouth, suddenly heavy. You thought about all the times youâd hinted maybe you werenât as untouchable as you liked to pretend. Maybe you couldnât handle it when it came back.
Larry felt it immediately. He flinched slightly, brows pulling together. That⌠wasnât how that was supposed to land.
âWoah hold on,â he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. âMajor random shift here.â
âItâs fine, dude. Itâs chill,â you said quickly, already moving away, sitting up, putting space between you.
âClearly not.â
You snapped your laptop shut a little too fast. âI should go. Wouldnât want to make it a thing.â
Larry blinked, completely thrown. âAre you serious? What is happening right now?â
You didnât answer. You just stood, grabbing your jacket, heading for the door. He shot up trying to get a hold of you âHey â He got there before you could reach the handle, stepping in front of the door. âWhat did I say? You just sprung up and got all weird.â
âLarry, itâs fine. Really. I just wanna go home,â you said, exhaling like if you kept your tone even, it wouldnât crack.
âI thought you were spending the night.â
You let out a short huff, shaking your head. Then it slipped out before you could stop it: âWould making us a thing be so bad?â
âNo,â he said. That made your chest twist worse.
âItâs just not fair,â you went on, voice tighter now, âeven if I care about you, to just⌠wait around for it to not be a thing.â
Larry stared at you, something finally clicking into place too fast, all at once. âHoly shit,â he breathed.
âHaha whatever. Move,â you said, trying to brush it off, pushing lightly at his shoulder to get past him.
âI love you.â
You froze. For a second, it didnât even register properly. It just hung there, wrong and right at the same time. You scoffed, defensive, shaking your head. âDonât spit in coffee and give it to me.â
Larry let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. âI think you got it wrong. I think I love you.â
âI donât believe you,â you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.
That only made him laugh again, softer this time. âYou think Iâd want just any girl in my bed?â
You raised a brow. âIâm sure you would.â
âHey,â he grinned, a little crooked, a little nervous under it, âI may be a pervert, but Iâm respectful.â
You didnât answer that. Instead, you stepped closer. Close enough that he instinctively leaned back until his shoulders hit the door behind him. Trapped, not that he was trying to get away. Your hands pressed lightly against him as you leaned in, your voice dropping, suddenly unsure.
âAre you?â you whispered.
Too quiet. Too real. Larryâs breath caught. âFuck,â he muttered under his breath.
Your heart was pounding so hard it felt ridiculous. This wasnât how it usually went. You were supposed to be the one in control.
âKiss me then.â The second it left your mouth, your brain screamed at you. What are you doing? What are you saying?
Larry looked at you like youâd just flipped his entire world on its head. His face was red he knew it, could feel the heat crawling up his neck. Slowly, like he was giving himself time to back out if he needed to, his hands came to your waist.
âJesus ChristâŚâ he whispered.
But he didnât stop. He leaned in. His brain was so scared he was making this all up. Fortunately for him he was not. then his lips met yours.
This was not like anything that he had done before, not like the teasing almost kisses youâd joked around with before. One hand tightening slightly at your waist, grounding himself in it. Deepening the kiss while holding you closer. For everything that he did for being a coward he tried his best to make it up between your lips. When he pulled back, it wasnât far. Just enough to look at you, eyes a little unfocused, like he was still catching up to what just happened.
ââŚStill donât believe me?â he murmured.
Maybe Sal was right for how stupid he was but it got him where he needed to be.
âDonât full name me, bitch,â he mutters, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips as he leans his head back to look at you. Heâs sprawled out on the front steps of the school, surrounded by the Vortex Club.
You roll your eyes but canât help smiling as you walk closer, the groupâs attention shifting toward you. âSorry, guys,â you say lightly, crossing your arms. âBut I canât help wanting to steal my boyfriend away from you all.â
A few of them exchange glances, Nathan lets out a quiet scoff, already pushing himself up from the steps. âDonât apologize,â he says, brushing off his jacket. âThese losers were pissing me off anyway.â
There's irritation in his voice, but it fades the second he looks at you. He slips his arm around your shoulders like itâs second nature, pulling you in just a little closer than necessary. Without another word, the two of you start walking away from the group, leaving behind the low hum of conversation and judgmental stares.
Behind you, Victoria lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she watches you go. âI like her,â she says, amused. âSheâs the only one who can actually handle him.â Another pause, then a smirk. âShe walks him like a dog.â
You and Nathan had been tangled in each otherâs lives for as long as you could remember. Back then, he couldnât stand you. Not that you blamed him. Youâd seen something you werenât supposed to his father tearing into him, words sharp enough to leave marks without ever touching him.
You inserted yourself into his space. It didnât take a genius to figure out why. You pitied him. Nathan Prescott hated being pitied more than anything. But unlike everyone else, you didnât disappear after that moment. You didnât whisper behind his back or avoid him in the halls. You stayed annoyingly consistent, stubbornly present. A constant thorn in his side. Somewhere along the way, the insults turned into conversations. The arguments turned into something almost playful. And before either of you really noticed, you had become⌠this. Now, you wouldnât take it back. Not for anything. If pity was what started it, it definitely wasnât what kept you here.
âSo,â you start, glancing over at him, âI was thinking maybe we could hang out in your room for a bit.â
Nathanâs lips curve instantly, that familiar teasing edge slipping into his expression. âOh?â he hums, stepping closer. âDidnât realize my girl was a full on perv.â
He slides a hand to your waist, turning you toward him like itâs second nature.
You roll your eyes, though thereâs a hint of warmth behind it, placing your hands against his chest to steady yourself. âShove off. I just want some quiet time.â
Thatâs all it takes for his expression to shift. The teasing drops, replaced by concern.
âHey⌠are you okay?â he asks quickly, his grip tightening just slightly, like heâs afraid youâll slip away. âDid something happen?â
You blink, caught off guard, then let out a small huff. âWhoa. I just want to spend some time with you.â
He studies your face for a second longer than necessary. âYou sure?â
You reach for his hand before he can spiral any further, lacing your fingers together and giving him a small tug. âShut up, Prescott.â
A faint smile tugs at your lips.
âCâmon. Letâs go.â
Lying in his bed, you curl closer to Nathan, your arms tightening around him just a little more than usual. He notices immediately. âHey,â he mutters, shifting slightly so he can look at you, his brows pulling together. âSeriously⌠are you okay?â
You tuck your face closer into him, voice quieter. âIâm really fine.â
He doesnât answer right away. Just watches you, like heâs trying to pick apart something youâre not saying. âHm. Fine,â he echoes, unconvinced, a small frown settling in. Then, after a beat âYou know, I thought you were a total cunt when we first met.â
You pull back just enough to look at him, unimpressed. âWow. Thatâs really nice, Nathan. Thank you.â
You start to shift away, but before you can, his arms tighten around you, pulling you right back against him.
âBut,â he adds quickly, softer now, âI like that about you.â
You squint at him. âYouâre still calling me a cunt.â
âIâm making a point,â he huffs. âJesus, chill for a second.â
That earns a small smile from you, despite yourself. His expression changes again, less defensive now, more⌠honest. Itâs rare, and you can feel it in the way his grip steadies instead of tightens.
âIf it werenât for youâŚâ he starts, voice quieter than youâve ever heard it, âI think my life wouldâve gone somewhere a lot worse.â
You donât interrupt.
âI mean it,â he continues, eyes locked on yours. âSo if youâre ever feeling like shit, or⌠anything I want to be that for you. What you are for me.â
Your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, your eyes start to sting. You blink quickly, a small laugh breaking through as you look at him. âIâm really fine,â you say, softer now. âBut that?â
You shake your head a little, smiling through it. âThatâs the sweetest thing youâve ever said. Now stop being a sap,â you add, nudging him lightly, âand go back to being a loser.â
He lets out a quiet scoff, but thereâs no bite to it this time, just the faintest hint of a smile as he pulls you closer again.
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â Sally Face :Â one shot PRETTY VACANT
â summary : Sal Fisher reflects on how much he adores youÂ
â pairing : Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader
â word count : 1.8K
â author note : This is my little gift to everyone for the new year, I know you fiends love my Sally Face fics so lemme get back into it. So for my last fic of 2025 have this little drabble. (if you just saw this post, ignore it im just bad with html codes fml, gotta go fix like everything now)
The venueâs back alley hums with leftover noise bass bleeding through brick, laughter spilling out in bursts every time the door opens. Neon from the sign flickers across puddles on the pavement, turning everything pink and blue and unreal.
Sal leans against the wall beside you. edges smoothed by time, posture more confident but some things havenât changed. The mask is still there. Heâs got his jacket collar pulled up against the cold, one gloved hand loose at his side. The mask is on, like always, but he angles himself toward you when you stop in front of him.
âYou got one?â he asks, voice low, almost swallowed by the music.
You tap the cigarette case against your palm. âFor you? Always.â
He hesitates only a second before lifting a hand to his mask, fingers hooking under the edge. He doesnât remove it just tilts it up enough to expose his mouth. The gesture feels private in a way that makes your chest tighten. Like he trusts you with this small, careful unveiling.
You step closer. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, smell smoke and soap and the night air clinging to his clothes. You slide a cigarette free and bring it up slowly, deliberately.
Salâs lips part just a little.
Your fingers brush the corner of the mask as you slide the cigarette between his lips, careful. His breath ghosts over your knuckles. You feel him still, like heâs holding himself there on purpose.Your fingers linger too close, hovering at his chin. You can feel the warmth of him, the quiet awareness humming in the space between you. His lips close around the filter, careful not to touch you, but close enough that the almost is louder than the contact wouldâve been.
ââŚThanks,â he murmurs, the word vibrating faintly against your skin.
You flick the lighter. The flame flares, reflected in the dark lenses of his mask. You hold it up for him, steady, and he leans in close enough now that the space between you feels charged. When he inhales, the cigarette tip glows, soft and bright.
Smoke curls between you as he exhales, drifting past your face. His hand lingers at the edge of the mask, thumb resting there. HE takes the cig from your hand as you go to pull you your phone âAlright its almost time for my set, thank you for comingâÂ
âOf course, when have I ever missed a show of yours?â He smiles as he brings his mask back into place, he knows exactly what it does to you. The way the straps settle, the way his eyes lift to meet yours once his mouth is hidden again. Something about it flips a switch in your brain: the contrast of what you just saw versus whatâs now carefully concealed.
Itâs ridiculous, you think dimly. And then you think it again, louder, because your pulse just jumped. You clear your throat and lock your phone, sliding it into your pocket. âYeah,â you say, aiming for casual. âGuess I should, uh⌠get ready.â
âYeah,â he echoes, but he doesnât move.
The cigarette hangs from his hands, smoke seeping out from beneath the maskâs edge from the last hit. He tilts his head, studying you in that quiet, unreadable way of his like heâs cataloguing every tiny shift in your expression. You feel seen in a way that makes your skin warm.
âYou were really good at sound check,â he says. âEven if you're tired, you still always kill it.â
You laugh softly, shaking your head. âSal when do I not kill it?â
âSorry.â He steps closer, just a fraction. Not enough for anyone passing by to notice, but enough that the alley seems to shrink around the two of you. You catch yourself staring at his eyes through the mask again how it hides him, how it doesnât. How knowing whatâs under there somehow makes it worse. Better. Sexy. Definitely sexy.
âYou gonna be up front?â you ask.
âAlways,â he says without hesitation. âWhere I can see you.â
Your stomach flips. You donât look away this time. Thereâs a beat thick, unspoken before he reaches out and taps the back of your hand with two fingers. Barely a touch. Still electric.
âGo,â he murmurs. âIâll be right here when youâre done.â
You nod, finally stepping back toward the door, heart thudding louder than the bass inside. Just before you disappear into the noise, you glance over your shoulder.
Sal lingers where you left him, back against the cool brick, cigarette burning low between his fingers. The door thumps shut behind you and the alley feels quieter for it emptier. He exhales slowly, before he can stop himself, a smile tugs at his mouth.Â
His mind is always pulled back to the day all things started to fall into place. Like his brain hit rewind on its own.Everyone had cleared out in a mess of noise and gear. Larry yelling something about pizza, Todd reminding people not to forget their cables, while Ash said she wanted a smoke break which had Larry cheezing and forgetting about the pizza. the door slamming upstairs. The house had settled into that familiar quiet afterward.
You were still talking. Sal sat on an overturned amp, jacket shrugged halfway off. Heâd been listening mostly. At some point, though, it turned into watching.
ââŚNow dont get me wrong, I love Vivienne westwood, she has been the cornerstone of a lot of punk fashion though as godly as she is ill always call her a sell outâ you said, pacing a little now, warmed up from practice and momentum. âLike, her political influence is fucking amazing but then why is all her shit like 200 dollars?!. Historical references but anarchist intent. Itâs ugh, itâs genius.â
The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved. The way you filled the space without even trying. How comfortable it felt, being the last two left, like the night had decided it was yours. You finally paused, laughing at yourself. âSorry. Iâm rambling.â
âNo,â he said quickly too quickly. âItâs⌠nice. Hearing you like that.â
You smiled at him then He tilted his head, eyes following you as you moved. âYou say that about a lot of things.â
You stopped and looked at him. âI do not.â
He smirked. âYou absolutely do. Last week it was that underground band from London. Week before that it was a documentary about rats in New York.â
âThat documentary was important,â you shot back, pointing at him.
âIâm sure it was,â he said, deadpan.
You stared at him for a second before laughing. âOkay, rude.â
You dropped back down onto the floor, leaning against the couch, still talking about fashion, about music, about how stupid it was that people expected you to pick one thing to care about. Your hands moved when you spoke. Sal felt that familiar ache settle in his chest the one that had been there longer than he wanted to admit.
He cleared his throat. âCan I say something without you roasting me?â
You glanced up, amused. âThat depends entirely on what you say.â
He rolled his eyes. âIâm being serious.â
You grinned. âSay what you wanna say, dude.â
That was it. That was his opening.
He looked at you really looked. The way you were glowing from practice, hair a mess, eyes bright, completely in your element. His chest did that thing again.
âSo⌠Iâm just gonna say this,â he started. âAnd if itâs awkward, no one has to talk about it ever again.â
You tilted your head. âThatâs ominous.â
He snorted, rubbing his face, then looked at you again really looked. âI like you,â he said.
You blinked. Once. Then smiled, slow and knowing. âSal.â
âNo, let me finish,â he said quickly, holding up a finger. âBecause if I donât say this all at once, Iâm going to chicken out and throw up when I get home.â
You bit your lip to keep from smiling wider.
âIâve liked you for a while,â he continued. âsomehow I think youâre the coolest person I know. Which is incredibly unfair to me.â
You laughed, soft and fond. âThats really sweet dumbass.â
âIt was,â he said.
Silence settled between you again. Finally, you said, âYou know I kind of figured.â
He groaned. âOf course you did.â
âYouâre not subtle,â you added gently. âYou look at me like I hung the moon.â
He paused, then shrugged. âYeah. Well.â
You stood and stepped closer, stopping just in front of him. âIâm really glad you told me,â you said. âI like you too.â
His breath caught. âYeah?â
âYeah.â
The bass from inside the venue rattles the door, dragging him back to the present. Sal exhales, warmth spreading through his chest, and laughs quietly under his breath.
He shakes his head, amused. Adoring, if heâs honest. Itâs strange, the way time sneaks up on you.
Heâs taller now than he used to be he notices it every time he catches his reflection next to old photos. His shoulders broader, his hair longer, falling past where it used to, grown into instead of grown out. Life kept moving whether he was ready or not. Larry, Todd, Ash, all of them growing into themselves, messy and loud and real. Him too, somehow. Twenty didnât feel as terrifying as he thought it would. Just⌠different, definitely different.
And you. Heâs watched you change in ways that still knock the air out of his chest sometimes. Watched you sharpen, soften, stumble, rise. Watched you turn all that noise inside you into music that makes rooms go quiet.
It feels like yesterday crammed into your basement, amps buzzing, cables everywhere, Larry too loud, someone always out of tune. Youâd been fearless even then, daring everyone to keep up.
Now youâre about to walk onstage, and the room is going to listen. Just like you had always demanded.
Sal flicks ash to the ground, eyes lifting to the venue door like he can see through it. He can already imagine you under the lights, focus settling in, that look on your face right before the first note hits. Pride swells in his chest.
The opening riff cuts through the wall your cue. He laughs quietly to himself, breath puffing against the inside of his mask. âFuck,â he murmurs, fond and breathless.
He stubs out the cigarette, pushes off the wall, and reaches for the door. As it swings open and the sound crashes over him, he steps inside grinning.
â summary : He is always so gentle with you in bed. [top!abel] [smut]
â pairing : Abel X fem! reader
â word count : 2.2k
â author note : I think im ovulating
By the time you had come undone for the many times he kept you, the edges of your thoughts had begun to blur. Your mind drifted somewhere, as you wondered again why you were here. Why you kept ending up beneath him like this. It had always felt like that with Abel: hazy, dreamlike, as though something about being under his touch clouded your better judgment.
When he finally pulled his fingers from you, the sudden absence left a hollow ache that made your breath hitch. Abel paused, looking down at you with a gaze so soft it almost hurt to meet it. His eyes pooled with something dangerously close to devotion. So lovesick and reverent, the kind of look someone might give a miracle they never expected to witness.
that was the cruelest part. You had fallen in love with the blonde what felt like an eternity ago. Unfortunately, you never knew where you stood with him. Nights like this made it impossible to think clearly. On nights like this he touched you as though you were something sacred like a fallen divinity he had been tasked with worshipping, guiding your body toward some quiet, private version of salvation. He would whisper praise against your skin, take his time like every inch of you was something worth studying.
Then there were the other days.
The days when the only glimpse you had of him was in passing walking down the corridor while you worked with Sera, his shoulder brushing by without even a pause. Sometimes a whole week would pass after nights like this before he looked at you again.
The contradiction left your head spinning.
Your body was overwhelmed in more ways than one. You were already sensitive, nerves buzzing and trembling from everything he had done to you so far, when his fingers slipped back inside you without warning. The motion made your hips jolt against the sheets as a quiet sound escaped your throat.
His other hand moved lazily over your chest, thumb brushing across your nipple in slow, absent circles. The light pressure only made the ache worse. They had been neglected for hours now. your whole body kept balanced in this careful, teasing torment.
Abel had stripped you down earlier praising you softly as his hands explored your skin. For hours he had done little more than that: tracing the curve of your waist, dragging his fingertips over your stomach, barely giving you more than the ghost of friction. When he did slide his fingers inside you, it was brief just enough to make your body react before he withdrew again.
The restraint had been agonizing.
Now, hovering above you, the blonde let out a low, strained groan. His eyes never left yours, watching every flicker of your expression the flushed heat in your face, the desperate way your lips parted whenever he moved.
You knew he could see it. How wrecked you were for him.
âOh â His voice softened into something almost breathless. âYou are so beautiful tonight,â he murmured, the words slipping from him like a quiet confession.
âWhen are you not, though?â he laughed softly, watching you like he had all the time in the world. His voice dipped quieter after, almost thoughtful. âIâve missed you.â
That had you flushing for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat still buzzing through your body. It shouldnât have surprised you. Abel was always like this careless with words that landed too close to your heart. Like they didnât make your chest tighten.
So stupid. So unfairly nice to you.
âStop being a dick,â you breathed, the words coming out weaker than you intended.
Because really, all you wanted was for him to touch you.
If he wasnât going to give you anything solid to hold onto outside of these nights then the least he could do was stop teasing you and actually finish what he started. It would only be fair, you reasoned bitterly. The decent thing to do.
At that, he gave you an exaggerated pout.
Abel shifted his weight, one arm bracing beside your head as he leaned closer, closing the space between you. The difference between the two of you felt almost ridiculous: him still fully clothed, sleeves pushed back, hair falling into his eyes while you lay beneath him bare and completely exposed.
âIâve missed you,â he repeated.
This time the words were quieter.
He pulled his hand from between your legs, and the loss made your body twitch in protest. Slowly he dragged his palm up along your stomach instead, fingers tracing the sensitive path he had memorized hours ago. Every inch he passed left your nerves sparking.
By the time his hand reached your throat, you were already trembling.
His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, holding you there as he looked down at you. The touch wasnât tight. Possessive in a way that made your pulse race.
The whole movement left your body throbbing with a mixture of frustration and something softer you tried not to name.
Looking into his eyes made you feel far too exposed.
You tried to deal with that the only way you could think of reaching up and grabbing a fistful of his hair with both hands. The strands were soft between your fingers, and the slight pull made him suck in a breath.
âYou think that I didnât?â you murmured.
For a moment, something in his expression shifted.
Then Abel ducked his head.
His lips brushed against your collarbone first slow, lingering kisses that made your skin prickle. He followed the line upward, pressing soft touches along the side of your neck, warm breath ghosting over your skin between each one.
Your grip on his hair tightened without thinking.
He hummed quietly at the reaction before reaching for one of your hands. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, guiding it down between your bodies again.
Gently, deliberately, he placed your fingers where you were still aching for attention.
âThen donât pretend you donât know what you do to me,â he murmured against your neck, guiding your hand with his. His voice had softened again, rougher now. âGo on.â
âWhat the fuck is going on with him right now?â you think, the question circling uselessly in your head.
You hesitate, ready to protest, but when you look up at him you catch the look in his eyes. Thereâs a strange determination there focused, almost reverent that throws you off completely.
A small pout slips onto your lips despite yourself.
âSuch a dick,â you mumble.
Still, you move your hand like he guided you, fingers beginning to trace slow circles. Your breath stutters as sensation builds again, your body already too sensitive for this game.
You glance down for a second then look back up.
Abel is watching you with the most unbearably smug expression youâve ever seen.
Fuck him. Fuck his stupid face. Fuck his stupid perfectness. And fuck his mouth. And, God why couldnât he just fuck you already?
The thought only winds you tighter.
Your fingers move faster despite the irritation bubbling under your skin. Every motion sends sparks up your spine, your body reacting instantly after everything heâd already done to you tonight. You can feel yourself getting closer, breath turning shallow, hips shifting against the sheets without meaning to.
And heâs just
Watching.
Why was he only watching?
Why was he always like this with you gentle, teasing, careful?
Why had he never once been rough?
The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can feel the edge approaching, that familiar tipping point right at the brink
And then suddenly his hand closes around your wrist.
Stopping you.
âAbel! What the fuck?â
Your voice cracks with pure frustration.
He winces immediately, looking almost embarrassed.
âIâm sorry,â he says softly. âItâs just⌠Iâm so proud to see how good you do without me.â
The bashful tone is so absurd it makes your brain stall.
Before you can even process the words, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips. He presses a kiss to your fingertips slow, warm and then, without breaking eye contact, slips them into his mouth.
Your stomach flips.
âEverything about you is so cute,â he murmurs after a moment, voice light again. âYou are so perfect.â
He lets out a quiet little giggle, like the thought genuinely delights him.
At this point, hours of this strange back and forth have left you completely lost.
You stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell heâs talking about.
âOut of everyone up here,â he continues softly, eyes drifting closed for a second as his hand moves lazily along your side, âout of every creation made for man⌠you were made with no fault.â
You blink at him.
What kind of sappy bullshit is happening right now?
âHow can I ever be enough?â he laughs quietly, almost to himself, fingers still absentmindedly caressing your body.
âAbel,â you say gently.
You reach up, touching his chin and guiding his face down just enough to press a soft kiss to his mouth.
The reaction is immediate.
His whole body goes tense.
Then something in him snaps.
Suddenly heâs pulling you against him, arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost knocks the breath from your lungs. The careful distance heâd kept all night disappears as he presses your body flush to his.
His kisses come rougher now urgent, scattered along your throat and collarbone. He drags his mouth down your chest, leaving warm marks in his wake, like heâs trying to claim every inch of skin he can reach before the moment disappears.
Your hands tangle in his hair again as he moves lower.
Until finally his head dips between your legs, his breath warm against the inside of your thigh desperate in a way that makes your heart race.
he canât hold himself back anymore. Abel let out a low, helpless sound the moment he finally tasted you. The moan vibrated against your skin, sending a sharp wave of sensation through your body.
âYou were made for me,â he breathed, the words slipping out like they had been waiting there for a long time.
Your head tipped back against the sheets. You had never felt anything like this before. Every movement of his mouth was deliberate, hungry in a way that felt almost reverent. He didnât rush, but he didnât hold back either. His hands tightened around your thighs, pushing them open wider as if he needed to see you, needed you exposed beneath him.
âLook at you,â Abel murmured between breaths. âYouâre already shaking.â
God, sheâs beautiful, he thought, almost dizzy with it. How is she even real?
He couldnât stop. His grip tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your legs while he kept going, like he had no intention of letting you escape this time. Every few seconds another quiet praise slipped from him, spoken into your skin.
âSo pretty.â
âCan you feel how much I missed you?â
âYouâre doing so good.â
Your hands twisted helplessly in the sheets. The overwhelming sensation had your chest tightening, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes before you even realized they were there. You were crying because it felt too good.
Abel noticed immediately.
He pulled back just long enough to glance up at you, breath uneven, lips slightly parted.
âHey,â he said softly, brushing his thumb along your thigh. âAre those tears â
Your only response was a shaky breath and a weak nod. A slow smile spread across his face. âGood,â he murmured, almost fondly. âI was worried I wasnât trying hard enough.â
Then he dipped his head back down. Your whole body jolted. âAbel â you gasped, your voice barely holding together.
He hummed in response, the vibration sending another sharp rush through you.
She says my name like that every time, he thought, a little dazed. How am I supposed to survive that?
His hands kept your legs steady as your body started trembling harder. You were so close now that everything felt fragile, like a single breath might push you over the edge.
Abel could see it. Your shaking, the way your hips shifted without control, the small desperate sounds leaving your throat.
âThere it is,â he whispered softly. âDonât hold back now.â
The pressure finally snapped.
Your whole body went rigid as the sensation crashed through you, vision flashing white as the release tore through your nerves. A broken sound escaped your throat while your hands tightened helplessly around his hair.
You could barely think.
Your body was still shaking when the wave finally started to fade.
In the quiet that followed, Abel slowly lifted his head again. He looked⌠ridiculously pleased with himself.
A stupid, satisfied smile spread across his face as he looked between your trembling body and the flushed expression on your face.
Wow, he thought, staring a little too long. Sheâs even prettier like this.
âYou did amazing,â he said proudly, like you had just accomplished something impressive.
His thumb brushed lightly along your thigh again as he looked down at you.
Imagine going to ask Sanji a question in the middle of the night and finding out how much he dreams of you.
You can't sleep and you've got a craving for that lavender tea that only he can make properly, so you creep into his cabin as quietly as you can, feeling slightly guilty about waking him up but knowing he'd be devastated if you didn't. He's shirtless with a thin blanket stretched over his lower half, barely disguising the muscular thighs hidden beneath it. As you inch closer, you can't help but notice how perfect he looks; his hair is disheveled and his chest is glistening in the moonlight, soft whimpers falling from his lips that send heat coursing through your core. He lets out a soft plea in his sleep, his hips twitching under the blankets and giving away exactly what kind of dream you're interrupting.Â
Before you can convince yourself to walk away, you hear the softest moan of your name, sighed out like the solution to all the world's problems, a desperate plea you can't help but answer.Â
"Sanji?" You whisper out into the darkness as you perch on the edge of his mattress, surprised how relaxed he looks as his eyes blink open to find you there.Â
"You are too kind, the way you bless my dreams sweetheart." He sounds far less nervous than he usually does around you, his fingertips trailing lightly over your thighs until his hands reach your hips, pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You're not sure quite where this newfound confidence has come from, but you're more than happy to be carried along with it, letting your hips press against his as you let your body drape over him, his lips seeking out your neck like he's done this a thousand times before. You run your fingers through his blonde locks as you pull his face away, holding him just long enough to receive the most loving gaze before you crash your lips against his, his arms tightening around your waist as he hungrily takes in every taste of you.Â
Sanji's had this dream before, but something about the weight of you against his aching hips and the way you taste against his tongue tonight has his head swimming, small whines escaping him every time your lips momentarily part. You're even better than usual, sweeter, more real, it's almost as if...Â
He pulls his head back sharply with an inhale as he runs a hand gently over your cheek, his eyes wide in shock as he realises,Â
"This isn't a dream! You're actually here!" You can't tell if joy or shock is the overwhelming emotion in his voice, but as you let out a small laugh and nod along to his realisation, joy definitely wins out and lips capture yours again before any more words can be shared. You'll have to get your tea another night.Â
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you hook up with izuku drunkenly at someoneâs birthday party and itâs not even that you regret it in the morning itâs just that your post nut clarity hits that you slept with the boy youâve known since pre-k all because of a couple of drinks and when he wakes up youâre still freaking out and you make him pinky promise that this wonât mess with your friendship, âizuku do you hear me? we are NOT going to be that pair of sad best friends that fucks everything up just because of sex. sex is nothing. weâre never gonna do it again, so weâll be fine right?â and the whole time heâs nodding along with wide, glassy eyes not listening to a goddamn thing youâre saying because heâs been in love with you since middle school, and last night you said you loved him, too. granted he was inside of you, and he said it first, but you said it back, and by that point it was well after one in the morning so the only thing you two were drunk on were each other. itâs probably why the very next day he is at your doorstep with a notebook in hand and a grin on his face thatâs something right in between cocky and sweet when he says âi think we should sleep together again. and before you say no, i made a list about why đ number one: weâre really good at it. number twoââ
Imagine Sinner! Adam falling for Luciferâs second in command. Youâve been by Luciferâs side since he found you after the Fall, and now Lilith is gone, Luciferâs feelings towards you are starting to change, especially as youâre helping Charlie at the hotel.
Out of everyone at said hotel, youâre the least impressed Adamâs the First Man - likely because youâre not human - and youâre the one that takes the least amount of bullshit from him. Vaggie loses it with laughter when Adam makes a comment about his dick and you spray him with water. The first few weeks, Adam is pretty sure he hates you. He respects that you get your point across, but it bugs him to no end that you just donât care. Even Lilith felt something for him, despite that feeling being hatred.
However, what Adam realises is that itâs not that you donât care about him, itâs that you donât care about him being the First Man or having the âworldâs best dickâ (according to Adam). Weirdly, you care more than anyone else in the entire place. You remember which songs he likes, you put a ban on apple juice when you realise he gets uncomfortable around anything to do with apples, and you went and bought him a guitar and said youâd listen to him play.
Actually, Adam is pretty sure heâs kind of in love with you. And heâs not sure how to deal with that, because yes, he loved Eve and Lilith, but thatâs because he was meant to, and there was no one else to love. He knows heâs not popular in Hell, but surely some people would want to screw him. And heâs definitely not meant to love you. Youâre the first Hellborn, and heâs not actually sure what you are. Youâre not a Deadly Sin, but youâre not anything like an imp or succubus. Thatâs probably for the best though, because heâd feel uncomfortable with being with a Sinner due to him knowing theyâre distantly related to him.
Adam doesnât know how to deal with a crush, especially on someone more powerful than him. It doesnât help his usual seduction tactics wouldnât work on you. He did actually think of asking Vaggie about it, but then decided heâd actually rather walk up to Niffty, hand her an angelic blade and tell her to go ham. His next idea is one heâs convinced is brilliant: shove the feelings down and pretend like theyâre not there. Heâs so proud of himself for that one. He brags to his reflection in the mirror and praises himself for being so smart.
This continues until he sees Lucifer with you. Itâs like being back in Eden all over again. And all Adam can think is âNo. Not this time. Not a fucking hat trick.â He knows he hasnât been here long enough to comprehend how dear you and Lucifer are to each other, but Adam does know he wants to be more important to you.
He is not losing a third person to Lucifer. Guess heâs going to those therapy sessions Charlie offers to sort out his feelings. Heâd rather that humiliation than lose you before heâs even got you.
Not that youâre aware whatsoever that Adam and Lucifer both have feelings for you.
This!!! This is literally what I mean by drama and seeing the other's heart crushed when we end up picking the otherđ Maybe I'm a bit of a sadist when it gets like this lmaođ
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â Sally Face : one shot INFINITY ON HIGH
â summary : why do the people from different worlds ever interact? Sal thinks it is weird and misses outÂ
â pairing : Sal Fisher x Reader
â word count : 4.3K
â author note : ermâŚ. Read at you own risk. the ending was a little rushed but iâll probably come back. I gotta just post stuff or else itâll stay in my drafts forever
TW: Sal is a little (very) self deprecating
He sometimes wonders if it was even worth it No. Thatâs not right. That sounds mean, even in his own head.
Itâs more like the timeline is fuzzy. when he flips back through his memories, the order of things doesnât quite line up the way he expects. One minute itâs just him, Larry, Ash, Todd the usual orbit and the next, youâre there. Albeit a little annoying, being in this town kinda left the idea of new people the least scary object here.
Before there was an us in the group. The you were untouchable in that abstract, high school way. The whole world seemed to really like you in a blink of an eye. Teachers liked you. People in the halls seemed to bend over backwards to get your attention. It really was unfair to see how you just floated amongst the different tables every lunch. Sal clocked you the way he clocked everything, though never thought there would be a day of interacting, never really expecting your path to cross his in any real way.
After there was you, youâre on the floor of Larryâs room, back against the beanbag, flipping through records and going on how he needs to expand the collection.
The shock of it still lingers. Larry had vouched for you, which mattered more than Sal would ever admit. Larry didnât do shitty people. That much he has been grateful since the beginning of his time here. When Sal had squinted at him one afternoon mask tilted just a little and asked, âYouâre sure?â Larry had looked genuinely offended.
âDude,â he said, hand over his heart like Sal had accused him of a crime. âTheyâre cool. Like, actually cool. Been friends for a while.â A while was vague, but Larryâs sincerity wasnât. Sometimes curses him for how he always makes sincerity such a non scary thing to him. So Sal let the idea sit. Let you sit at the edge of his awareness.
Still, it was weird at first. You didnât fit the shape heâd made for the group in his head. Too bright. Too confident. Too⌠normal. Which is such a horrible take. He often reflects on himself as to why he would think that. Especially in a group full of outcasts, wouldn't it be more accepting to just welcome you?Â
It was actually at a show he went with the gang that changed it up for him. It was one of those cramped venues that smelled like spilled beer, a funny thought he likes to think about is, in a room full of people just here to enjoy moshing and all that fun stuff it never smelled like BO. Sal had gone mostly out of habit Larry and Ash dragging him along, Todd trailing behind.
The pit had formed early, bodies slamming together in a messy, beautiful dream. Sal hung near the edge, hoodie sleeves tugged down, watching the way people moved like a living thing. He liked observing. Always had.Â
Thatâs when he saw you. You were in the pit. Hair stuck to your face with sweat, grin sharp and unrepentant as you shoved back when someone knocked into you. You moved like you knew exactly where your happiness was, the way you were shoving people was such a funny sight to him. Alive in a way Sal didnât usually associate with people who had everything going for them.
For a second, he genuinely wondered if he was wrong. If it was someone else who just looked like you. The only thing to prove otherwise was the pause in the music at the end of the song and the sound of your laugh carrying out.Â
Sal blinked. Larry saw it too. He elbowed Sal in the ribs, eyes wide with recognition and delight. âYo,â he shouted, which caused you to look his way. Immediately you started smiling so hard and Larry fully jumped into the mosh with the lack of music. Gathering a few offputting looks from the crowd.Â
Sal didnât answer. The music started up again and he just watched as you got bumped hard, stumbled, you grabbed the nearest strangerâs shoulders and shoved back, laughing like it was the best thing that had happened all week.
Something shifted. Later between sets, when the pit dissolved into panting bodies and ringing ears you ended up near him, hands on your knees, catching your breath. You looked up and met his eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âHey,â you said, easy. Familiar. Like you werenât crossing some invisible boundary.
He nodded. âHey.â
Up close, you didnât feel so untouchable. Just warm and a little flushed, eyeliner smudged at the corners. You asked if heâd liked the band. He said yeah, probably too quietly. You leaned in anyway to hear him better, unbothered by the barrier between you both, by the silence he carried with him.
When Larry bounded over and threw an arm around your shoulders like it was nothing, Sal felt something settle into place.
Oh.
So thatâs when it really startedâŚ
After that, the timeline blurs for a different reason. itâs hard to imagine the group without you. You argue with Todd about music theory. You steal Ashâs jackets. You sit beside Sal in companionable silence, never demanding more than he has to give. Sometimes he still catches himself wondering how it happened. How someone like you ended up here, with them.
Sal had been staring at the ceiling for a while counting the tiny cracks in the paint, letting his thoughts loop and tangle the way they always did when the room was quiet enough.
He barely registered when you shifted closer. âYou want to hear my favourite Fall Out Boy song?â
Your voice cuts in clean, sudden, close too close and Sal startles just a little, chin dipping as he looks down. Youâre laying lengthwise on the couch now, head resting comfortably on his legs like youâd done it a hundred times before. One arm draped across your stomach, the other holding your iPod above your face, thumb already scrolling with purpose.
ââŚUh,â he says, blinking once. âI think Iâve heard all of their songs, but Iâll bite.â he laughs out because in what universe does he not know a fall out boy song.
You scoff immediately. âWhat the fuck ever, let me have my moment.â Your thumb flies faster over the click wheel, brows furrowed in concentration going through the process of picking a song.
Sal lets out a quiet laugh, the sound caught halfway in his throat. âDidnât I just say that IÂ would bite?â he squeaks out.
You hum victoriously the second you find it, a pleased little sound that makes his chest feel weirdly warm. You sit up abruptly, shifting your weight and in the process leaning over him, knee pressing into the couch on the side of his thigh, shoulder brushing his chest.
âBang the Doldrums,â you announce like youâre revealing classified information. âThis song actually fucks me up. Like, it is so good.â
He doesnât hesitate. âI canât fight you on that.â he really truly cant. It is a good ass song.Â
You snap your head toward him. âNo, you canât. But listen listen â You scrub ahead in the track with aggressive precision. âThe bridge is actually evil.â
You hit play. Sal relaxes back into the couch, one hand resting loosely by his side as the familiar melody floods his ears through the tiny shared speaker. He listens not just to the song, but to you. The way your body subtly sways, the way your lips mouth along to words you clearly know by heart.
Then the line hits.
And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me,
The same way I think of youÂ
This is a love song in my own way.
You pause the song abruptly and clutch your chest like youâve been shot, jaw dropping in exaggerated agony. âAre you KIDDING me?â
Sal snorts before he can stop himself. âHis voice is pretty good.â
Your hand immediately flies out and lands flat on his chest, palm warm through his shirt. âThat is not the point.â
He freezes for a second then, almost without thinking, his hand shifts. He settles it at your waist, fingers resting there like they belong. Like theyâve always belonged. You donât comment on it. You just keep talking. It shouldn't, you both were already so close.
âLike, yeah, Patrick Stump sounds insane, obviously,â you say, words tumbling out faster now. âBut the meaning is crazy. Because what do you mean Pete couldnât have stayed with the person he wanted, so when he was on tour away from them he was, like, comforted by the idea of haunting them? Like, man, can I be that petty?â
Sal hums thoughtfully. âJust say Mikey Way.â
You gasp so loud it startles him. âYOU KNOW ABOUT IT?!â
He grins under his mask. âGirl, Iâm not stupid.â
You stare at him for a second, eyes wide, then break into the most delighted smile heâs seen all day. âSal. Oh my god. I think this is the time that I propose.â
He laughs, shoulders shaking as your eyes glimmer with pure joy, this is a perfect example of loving the everliving fuck out of Larry for gifting him an amazing bestfriend sitting right here.
âPretty sure I would like it better if you gave me a little more incentive to want to say yes,â he says softly.
âToo bad,â you reply immediately, flopping back down so your head lands on his legs again. âWeâre married now. Keep up.â
Sal lets out a breath he didnât realize he was holding when you settle back onto his legs, the familiar weight grounding in a way nothing else ever really does. The song keeps playing, tinny and warm from the iPod speaker, and he stares back up at the ceiling again but this time the cracks donât matter. They blur together, background noise to the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your stomach in time with the beat. He shifts slightly, just enough to be more comfortable, knees adjusting beneath your head. You make a small sound at the movement. If sal could go fight god in every universe to have exactly what he has with you right now then he would not even think twice to do it.
Sal goes quiet after that.
Youâre still sprawled across him, warm and real, the faint buzz of the song vibrating through the couch cushions and into his bones. Your hair brushes his knee every time you shift, like it doesnât even occur to you that this is something that could mean anything. Why does causal touches like this between you and everyone else. Though sometimes he think he has been put in the best friend zone.Â
Thatâs the problem, he thinks. Heâs never been sure if you know. If youâve ever known.
Sometimes he wonders if all of this your head on his legs, your hand on his chest earlier, the way you talk at him like heâs the only one in the room is just how you are. If itâs background noise to you. Friendly. Easy. Unloaded with intention, unloaded without? You do this with everyone, right? You lean in. You laugh. You choose people without overthinking it.
Sal doesnât have that luxury. For him, everything feels deliberate. Every time he lets his hand settle at your waist or doesnât immediately pull away when you touch him, it feels like stepping over a line only he can see. A line youâve never acknowledged because, to you, it probably doesnât exist.
What if you donât notice the way his chest tightens when you say his name?
Or how he replays conversations later, dissecting every laugh, every brush of skin, wondering if it meant something or if he just wanted it to. Heâs known you for years now. Long enough that the crush shouldâve burned out. Long enough that this stupid, persistent hope shouldâve learned better. And yet here it is. Still sitting in his ribs, still convincing him that maybe this time, youâll look at him differently.
But then he remembers how people look at you.
The way rooms tilt toward you. The way strangers light up like theyâve been waiting for you specifically. Youâre cool without trying, confident without being cruel, the kind of person who belongs everywhere they go. You talk about music like youâre in on some secret, wear your opinions like armor, and somehow make everyone feel like theyâre allowed to exist a little louder around you.
When has there ever been a place for Sal Fisher at the table? Heâs a guy who hides behind a mask and a hoodie. Who fades into corners. Who needs time to speak and even more time to be understood. He canât imagine you seeing him the way he sees you not really. Not with that same gravity. Not with that same ache.
Thereâs still a disconnect, even after all this time. He doesnât know if youâre oblivious, or just kind, or choosing not to see it because it would complicate things. Maybe itâs safer for you this way. Sal has blamed every step that gets to your front door. It seems the higher he gets, the steps kept building, swallowing him alive.Â
Sal swallows he thinks quietly, almost fondly that maybe you really are too cool for him. Then again, is it even possible to look at Sal fisher without it being platonic? .
It happens later the inevitable drift that everyone swears wonât happen to them.
The apartment is too quiet for a place that used to be loud. Posters peel slightly at the corners, the air stale with dust and old incense. Sal stands in the narrow hallway, shoulder pressed lightly against the wall, air cool against his skin. He hadnât meant to eavesdrop. Heâd just been passing through on his way to grab his jacket, on his way to nowhere in particular when your voice stopped him cold.
âThis sucks.â
Itâs small. Nothing like the way you usually sound. Your eyes have been burning for who knows how long, and he can hear it in the way your words wobble. Sal freezes, heart stuttering in his chest. He stays still, breath shallow, like moving might shatter something fragile.
âItâs not that bad,â Ash says, trying to sound steady. âYou said your whole time in high school you wanted to escape this place.â
Sal closes his eyes.
âSee yeah,â you reply, forcing a laugh that doesnât quite land. âBecause I had so much energy all the time.â
He can picture it without seeing you. The way you shrug when you joke through pain. The way you deflect when things get too real.
âSeriously,â Ash continues, quieter now. âYouâll be alright. Itâs not like youâre the only one thatâs going to miss everyone.â
Thereâs a pause. Salâs fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves.
âI know that,â you say. âI just feel like Iâve missed out on so much already. I canât stand not being around all of you all the time.â
Something inside him drops.
Leaving.
All of you.
Not being around.
The words echo, ricocheting through his skull until they blur together into something painful and formless. He leans harder into the wall, grounding himself, but it doesnât help. It feels like the floor has tilted and heâs scrambling to find something solid to grab onto.
Ash is leaving.
Youâre leaving.
Different directions, different lives, different futures that donât automatically include him. Sal stays there long after the conversation fades into quiet sniffles and muffled movement. He doesnât know how long long enough that his legs start to ache, long enough that the house seems to exhale around him. When he finally moves, itâs slow, deliberate, like heâs afraid the sound of his footsteps might make this real.
He ends up outside without really remembering how.
The evening air is cold, sharp in his lungs. The sky is dimming into that bruised purple blue, streetlights flickering on one by one. He sits on the front steps, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The mask feels heavier than usual, like itâs pressing in on him instead of protecting him.
Heâd always known this would happen. Of course he did. People like you didnât stay. People like Ash didnât either. They had momentum. Dreams. Plans that stretched beyond this town, beyond late night hangouts.
Still knowing doesnât make it hurt less.
He thinks about all the things he never said. All the moments he assumed heâd have more time for. He thought proximity meant permanence. That as long as you were there, the feeling could stay suspended, untouched by reality. Now it feels stupid.
His chest tightens, breath catching uncomfortably behind the mask. He presses a hand flat over his sternum like he can physically hold everything in place. The idea of you not being a constant of your laugh not bleeding through walls, of your presence becoming something he has to remember instead of rely on makes his stomach twist.
What scares him most isnât just missing you. Itâs the thought that youâll go on and become even more yourself more confident, more brilliant, more untouchable and heâll stay exactly where he is. Watching from a distance. Wondering if he ever meant as much to you as you meant to him.
He wonders if youâll think of him at all. The street is quiet. Somewhere inside, a door closes softly. Life continues, indifferent and relentless. Sal stays on the steps until the air turns cold enough to bite, until the sky goes fully dark. He doesnât cry not really. But something fractures anyway. Something small and essential. Eventually, time takes them all apart. Sal sits there alone, realizing far too late that some worlds donât end in explosions.
Nockfell looks smaller than you remember.
Not physically no buildings have shrunk, no streets folded in on themselves. the town has exhaled and never quite drawn another breath. The bus pulls away behind you with a tired hiss, leaving you standing there with your bag slung over one shoulder and a knot already forming in your chest.
The air smells wrong. You came back because you needed answers. Because the letters stopped getting returned. Because silence can only stretch so far before it snaps.
You didnât know the full story only fragments that filtered through the news, through frantic phone calls, through rumors that sounded too unreal to be true. A cult. Murders. A fire. Arrests. Names whispered like curses. Salâs name always mentioned last, like people were afraid of it.
After he was put in jail, you never got to see him again.
Not because you didnât try.
You wrote letters instead. Dozens of them. Rambling, messy, full of things you never said when you were younger because you thought you had time. You told him about where you were living now. About the music you still listened to and all the music that you had gotten to perform all around the world in the past five years. About how sometimes a song would come on and youâd think, heâd love this, and it would hit you out of nowhere.
You never knew if he read them. But you sent them anyway.
The walk through your old neighborhood is extremely grim. There's just silence. You talk to people. Neighbors. Strangers who recognize your face after a second too long. Their expressions shift the moment you mention Sal. Pity comes first. Then discomfort. Then that awful look like theyâre deciding whether you deserve the truth or protection from it.
Finally, someone says it.
âHe⌠didnât make it.â
The words donât land right away. You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain scrambles for context, for clarification. Didnât make it where? Didnât make it through what?
âWhat?â you ask, voice barely there.
The woman swallows. âSal Fisher. He died. A while ago now.â
The world tilts.
âNo,â you say immediately, too fast. âNo, thatâs not possible. I was writing to him. I â Your throat closes. âHe was alive.â
She looks at you with something like regret. âIâm sorry. He was executed.â
Executed. The word is sharp. Final. It carves straight through you.
Your bag slips from your shoulder and hits the floor with a dull thud, but you donât feel it. You donât feel anything except the roaring in your ears, the sudden overwhelming pressure behind your eyes. Your chest tightens like itâs caving in on itself.
âNo,â you whisper. âNo, no, no â
You think of the letters. Every single one. The hope threaded through them. The assumption that one day youâd sit across from him again, awkward and quiet, making jokes around everything you didnât know how to say. You think of how he never wrote back. Your knees buckle. You donât remember sliding down the wall, only that the floor is cold and your hands are shaking so badly you have to curl them into fists just to keep them still. Your breath comes in broken, uneven pulls, like your body forgot how to do this automatically.
âHe didnât do it,â you choke out, to no one in particular. âHe wouldnât. He couldnât â
Later much later you find the place where they buried him.The sky is gray, oppressive, like itâs pressing down on you just to see if youâll break. Your legs feel hollow as you stand in front of the marker, reading his name over and over again like repetition might change something.
Sal Fisher.
Thatâs all it takes.
You drop to your knees.
The sound that leaves you isnât pretty. Itâs raw and ugly and pulled from somewhere deep in your chest, a sob that feels like it might tear you apart from the inside. Your hands claw at the dirt, fingers digging into the cold earth like you could reach him if you just tried hard enough.
âIâm sorry,â you gasp. âIâm so sorry I shouldâve been here. I shouldâve done something. I shouldâve â
Your words dissolve into tears.
You tell him about the letters. About how you never stopped thinking about him. About how you always believed always that heâd survive, because Sal had always been quieter than the world but stronger than people realized.
âI didnât know,â you whisper hoarsely. âI swear I didnât know.â
The wind moves through the trees, soft and indifferent. You stay there until your throat aches and your eyes burn, until grief settles into something heavy and constant instead of sharp and blinding. When you finally press your forehead to the ground, itâs not because youâve run out of tears itâs because reality has finally set in.
You didnât just lose him once. All the times there were things you wanted too but didn't say. You walk the familiar path on instinct, feet crunching softly against gravel and damp leaves. The air is cool enough to sting your lungs, the sky stretched thin and pale above the water.
The lake doesnât look any different from when you were younger. The surface ripples gently, catching light in dull silver flashes. You remember sitting here once, years ago, throwing pebbles into the water and arguing about whatever, about nothing at all. Sal had been quiet then too, mask tipped slightly as he watched the water instead of you.
You stop at the edge and stare.
Your hands are shoved deep into your pockets, fingers curled tight, knuckles aching. The grief has settled into something heavier now less sharp, more suffocating. Like itâs found a permanent place in your chest and decided to stay.
âItâs not fair,â you say out loud.
Your voice sounds wrong in the open air. Too small.
You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping before you can stop it. âItâs really not fair, Sal.â
The water laps gently against the shore. No answer. Of course not. You pace a few steps, then stop again, frustration bubbling up, pressing against your ribs. âYou haunted my mind for years, you know that?â you mutter, voice breaking just slightly. âEvery stupid quiet moment. I couldnât even sit in silence without thinking about you.â
You kick a small stone into the lake and watch it skip once, twice, then sink.
âI missed you when you were alive,â you continue, words spilling out now that youâve started. âI missed you when you were just⌠far away. When I thought one day Iâd see you again and it would all make sense.â
Your throat tightens.
âAnd now I have to miss you like this?â
You press a hand to your chest, breathing hard, like the ache might become manageable if you can just acknowledge it. Your eyes burn again, tears threatening but not quite falling.
âI didnât even get to choose this,â you whisper. âI didnât get to say goodbye. I didnât get to ask if you ever â Your voice falters, and you swallow the rest of the sentence down. Some questions are too painful to finish.
The wind picks up, brushing past you, stirring the surface of the water into restless ripples. For a second just one you almost imagine itâs him. Standing beside you. Quiet. Present. The way he always was. It makes your chest ache worse.
âYou were supposed to be a âwhat if,ââ you say softly. âNot a âwhat now.ââ
You sink down onto the old bench near the shore, shoulders slumping. Staring out at the lake feels like staring into something endless, something that doesnât care how much youâve lost.
âI donât know how to do this,â you admit to the water, to the memory of him, to the space where he should be. âMissing you was already hard. But missing you in a way thatâs never going to end?â