i've been trying my best to collect a bunch of links to other, more structured resources about the genocide in gaza, and what you, reading this, can do about it, that i'm going to compile here.
DON'T SCROLL PAST. LOOK THROUGH THE LINKS. REBLOG.
less and less people are talking about gaza every day, but it is still a very real crisis.
education, donations, speaking out, global links (masterpost)
links to contextual articles
for americans - state/congressional contacts
how you can help palestine - donations, petitions, campaigns, upcoming protests (masterpost)
non-politically motivated charity links
canary mission
petitions and congressional contact (masterpost)
education, current news, taking action, direct action and donations, current protests (masterpost)
small monetary actions
2700 ebooks on israel and palestine, available for free
thorough article by storiesfromgaza, dated 10/30/23
targeted boycott + bds
how to find state/congressional contacts, bds, email template, donation links
sudan and congo
egypt, us/uk/canada/europe congressional contacts
direct links to help palestine
educate yourself (twitter links)
translating gaza (instagram link)
bds/targeted boycott information
compilation of palestine info and how to support it (masterpost), dated 10/28/23
latest info as of 11/3/23 and large amounts of immediate action to take (masterpost)
history of palestine and israel - articles, books, films, social media (masterpost)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Parkerâs black scrub top is on the floor, next to your forgotten set of black lingerie. The expensive lace pulled off your body only after Parker licked you over the lace, then slipped them to the slide and ate some more. Once she was satisfied, she tugged off the straps and finally untied the elastic band on her scrubs.
âFuck me.â
Your breathy whine has Parker smiling with pride. She had an idea of how youâd react when she pulled down her pants, but itâs always nice when you react before your brain can catch up.
The purple, heavy strap that hangs between her legs and over her briefs is mesmerizing. The vibrant purple silicone slightly curves up and has a blunt rounded head. Fake veins decorate the silicone and you know theyâre prominent enough so youâll feel them.
âThink itâll fit?â
âMhmm,â you agree, rolling your hips towards her so you can prove yourself right, prove to her that you can take her new strap.
The curved shape and wide girth only made you more excited and your greed made her chuckle darkly, âOh, you want it. This greedy pussy can't wait to be filled up, huh?â
Her spit soaked thumb goes to rub your sensitive clit when she says it, making you twitch with need.
âI want it,â you moan, âPut it in my stomach.â
Your words make her chuckle darkly. Memories of you singing the words in her ear as a joke when sheâd come back home to your shared apartment flood her mind. Your empty words made her smile, but she knew you wanted her act on it, hence the new purchase.
With your legs wrapped around her waist and your back on the soft mattress, itâs easy for Parker to lean over your body. Her strap sits over your clit and rests just under your belly button.
I REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU (so wonât you stay the night?) w/c: 16.1k - ; HIGURUMA HIROMI x F!READER
âá° you like him sooo much. you donât think he feels as strongly as you do.
ŕż ! warnings â porn WITH LOTS of plot, MINORS DNI, piv, very explicit smut, protected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, doctor!female reader with a nipple piercing (very self indulgent, soz), established relationship, miscommunication trope, angst-ish, praise, dacryphilia if you squint, dirty talk, very soft pleasure dom!higuruma, slight age gap (reader is 27, higuruma is 35)
/note. first fic iâve written in almost two years omg sedate me (also realised just how illiterate iâve become so please bare with me on any typos i tried!!)
sometimes itâs hard to get a read on higuruma, you think. heâs somewhat of a stoic person, face unchanged by even the most devastating or sanguine of news, and itâs no different now that youâve started dating him officially. you consider yourself lucky enough that you get to see him outside of the shell that is his âoverworked public defenderâ exterior, and even luckier that you get to call this man your lover, partner, darling of intrigue (or, as you describe him to your friends, your dear boyfriend).
however, something has felt⌠off as of late. nothing that would require you to raise a red flag of warning, sure, but the only way this feeling could be describe is that itâs akin to the taste of milk the day before itâs supposed to be thrown out â it smells good enough, but the beginning forms of congealing and clotting have collected along the bottom of the carton, and with enough shaking, would end up in your cup of warm tea unsuspectinglyâŚ
and as of right now, your relationship with higuruma has felt like the inception of expired milk. granted, when prompted by curious friends and family about your budding relationship with the man, you generally have nothing but good things to say about him. higuruma is a gentleman, and heâs kind, and remembers all the things youâve told him in the short times youâve been seeing each other, and altruistic to his very core. heâs also a very generous lover in the bedroom, so your sexual compatibility has never been considered as something to ring alarms about. everything should be greatâŚ
but it isnât.
you see, while youâve only been together for a few months, give or take, you feel as if many a milestone should have been crossed by now⌠the most important one (in your eyes, anyway) being that you stay the night at each otherâs place.
and yet, it hasnât happened. you think to all the times where you and higuruma have finished fooling around in the comfort of his bedroom, out of breath and very sated, and the dimming of the sky begins to brush over the horizon â and like clockwork, you sit up, scratching the soft skin of your belly awkwardly as you say, âgosh, itâs getting late.â
the response youâve so desperately sought out for was a lidded eyed higuruma, who would be looking up at you with so much desire and yearning, his arms outstretched to wrap around your body to pull you in, with barely a word uttered between you two as he says, âi would really like if you could stay.â
unfortunately, that has never been the case during these few months, where he would sit up next to you, nodding owlishly as he helped you collect your clothes, calling a taxi while helping you to the door and kissing your forehead goodbye.
the disappointment in itself feels unfounded and unwarranted. heâs a nice man. he never leaves you high and dry, always pays for your ride home, ensures that you text him when you get there, and heâs sending you a good night text where he asks when you both may see each other again.
the guilt you feel for the rejection that climbs up your throat when he doesnât offer you respite at his home is insurmountable, to say the least. itâs no different at your place either: by the time youâve disjointed from his sweaty grasp, heâs already jingling his car keys while looking for his displaced socks.
it doesnât make any sense to you. did he not see this going beyond a few dates and sex? he had already introduced you to his cat, shifu, and likewise had became acquainted with your own kitten, popo. it felt incredibly serious in your eyes. you had gushed about him to your friends, posted him online via fleeting 24hr story posts, but his existence in your life was there.
so what was going on?
it feels like your day has been dragging on after having spent the morning in your own bed yet again, your mind going back to a few nights ago where you had a nice home cooked dinner with higuruma, with the night â of course â ending in sexual intimacy (you think the few glasses of pinot noir and a seductive carbonara made you a deer in headlights to your boyfriendâs whims, despite all your warring feelings), and, like clockwork, with higuruma picking up your clothes as he dialled for the taxi to come pick you up, much too drunk to drive you home (and apparently too out of his wits to suggest that you stay the night).
your eyes stay glued to the text chain between the both of you, with the last two of your messages having been left on delivered since last night â albeit theyâre nothing out of the ordinary, just you tell higuruma you made it home safely and that you couldnât wait to see him again⌠and nonetheless, the texts stay unread, taunting you through the screen.
a deep sigh leaves your chest, and you close your phone to look off into the distance (the aforementioned being the sharply lit hallway of your workplace, with patients and nurses going in and out of their respective rooms). just then, one of your colleagues-turned-friends rounds the corner, and you look up to see shoko, hands on her hips when she sees you sulking on the waiting chair outside your office.
âyouâre looking especially forlorn today,â she teases and you deadpan at her as she takes a seat next to you, nudging you gently. âwhatâs up with you, huh?â
you nibble on your bottom lip, shaking your head. âitâs⌠itâs nothing,â to which shoko scoffs at, this time poking you with her foot.
âare you seriously going to try and lie to me right now?â she says, unimpressed. you shake your head.
âexactly,â she responds, poking your arm. âso iâll ask again: whatâs up with you?â
you huff, looking down at your phone, edging down a fingertip to switch the screen on just to see a whole lot of nothing (save for a the same text messages staring up at you) on the OLED.
shoko snatches the phone from your hand before you can protest, and her eyes glance downwards and her shoulders sag in immediate knowing. âohhhh⌠itâs him.â
you donât even have to answer, nor do you really want to.
she nudges you again, this time with her elbow. âdid something terrible happen with him? why is he not answering your texts?â
âitâs⌠stupid,â you sigh, shrugging to which shoko scoffs.
âitâs obviously not stupid if it has you moping around like a heartbroken, lovesick tween,â she snorts, to which you nudge her this time. âif heâs making you feel like this, then maybe you should talk to him about it.â
you huff, snatching your phone back. âitâs not that simple⌠weâve only been dating three months⌠thatâs nothing in the adult world.â
shoko rolls her eyes, unimpressed. âdonât give me that bullshit. youâre a grown ass woman, and iâve never known you to not communicate your feelings like one eitherââ
she then pokes your foot with hers. âand who cares if itâs only been three months? itâs not like youâre asking him to get one knee and buy a ring, youâre asking for attention. thatâs not exactly a big ask.â
you sigh resoundingly and defeatedly, shokoâs words reminiscent of what you shouldâve been thinking if you were a mature, adjusted woman.
âi know, i know⌠itâs just⌠when we have sexââ (the word is uttered under your breath, your eyes darting around the near empty hospital hallway), âhe knows just what to say and do and everything seems perfect.â
you swallow thickly. âthe we finish and he acts like he doesnât know how to speak to me⌠then in return, i donât know how to speak to him.â
you then laugh bitterly. âgod, how pathetic does that sound?â
shoko stares at you for five solid seconds before slapping a palm against her forehead, to which you sit up in alarm.
âshoâ?!â
she just as quickly responds with an iteration of your name. âyouâre not pathetic,â she says, voice firm. âyouâre human, and you just happen to be caught up with an emotionally constipated man. it happens to the best of us. either way, none of this is your fault in particular.â
your eyes begin to water slightly, and you have to tuck your thumbs into the sleeves of your jumper to dab at the inner corners of your eyes. you lean your head on shokoâs shoulder, sniffling quietly.
âwhat do i do? do i break up with himâ?â
shoko snorts again, shaking her head. âyou donât have to go to those extremes just yet, silly.â
she then throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side-hug that has you leaning even further into her hold. âyou should definitely talk to him, though. sit his ass down and look him in the eyes and say, âwe need to talk,â and if heâs half the man you say he is, heâll listen. itâs that simple.â
you nod against her. âyouâre always right, shoko⌠that settles it. iâll talk to him.â
âof course i am,â she teases with a grin, pressing her lips to the crown of your head gently.
just then, her pager goes off with a loud beep and she groans, giving your shoulder a warm squeeze before standing.
âiâm off to finish off my rounds. iâll find you in your office later, yeah?â
you nod again, smiling up at her. âyeah, iâll see you then, shoâ.â
shoko disappears with a wave over her shoulder, her heels a familiar click clack against the tile as she slides around the corner, and youâre left with your phone and unanswered texts all over again.
your stomach churns, fluttering with anxiety at the idea of confronting him, or worse, upsetting him about something as menial as this (though, clearly not with the way it has consumed you to the point of fatalistic worry that your romance is already over before it could properly blossom into something more).
either way, shoko was right. you deserve to know your place with a man you actually see a future with, no matter how early or budding the prospect is.
you unlock your phone again, fingers padding until higurumaâs contact comes up on the screen: hiromi <3
you ring him without so much a second glance, paying no heed to what he could be doing right now as a man of such a busy and demanding career.
the cell rings once, twice, a third timeâ then it clicks, higurumaâs warm voice through the speaker.
âhello?â
you can hear the clicking of multiple keyboards in the background, and heâs obviously in the middle of working, that much you do know, so you canât help but let out a puff of relief at the fact heâs picked up almost instantly.
âhey, hiromi. itâs me,â you breathe, a straying finger playing with a lock of your hair absentmindedly.
your name leaves his lips just as breathlessly, and you have to bite back at smile at the fact you can just hear the corners of his mouth lift up in his voice.
thereâs a slight pause with some shuffling, and suddenly itâs a lot quieter. heâs giving you his full attention, which eases some of the pressure in your mind.
âis everything okay? I donât usually expect to hear from you during a working day.â
you let out a little puff of air, as if to deflate yourself like a balloon and a dirty spoon. âno, no, everythingâs fine, i just⌠wanted to ask if you were busy friday night, since you, uh⌠never responded to my text.â
his voice catches from beyond the speaker and he sighs, and you can hear him rake a hand through his hair.
âiâm sorry. i got caught up in work, and i meant to open your message but i got caught up in work and it slipped my mindââ
thereâs a slight moment where higuruma exhales, mumbling quietly, before he clears his throat. âto answer your question, yes, iâm free on friday. did⌠you want to do something?â
you pretend to hum thoughtfully, as if you hadnât been mulling over these date plans for the past few days since youâve last seen him. âi was thinking dinner at my place? if thatâs alright with you, of course.â
higuruma laughs softly, a slightly crackle to the sound. âiâd love that. what should i bring?â
âjust yourself,â you say teasingly, a fond smile now lighting up your entire face. âmaybe a bottle of wine but thatâs not obligatory in the slightest.â
he laughs softly â low and warm, the sound washing over the phone line like liquid honey, so much so that you almost forget that the purpose of this impromptu date is to talk to him about the future of their relationship.
emphasis on almost.
âyou sure? i have no trouble picking something up.â
you shake your head, nibbling at the skin of your bottom lip as his words drape over you. âreally⌠i donât mind.â
âif you insist, my love. i will be there around seven?â
you hum sweetly. âseven is perfect.â
âseven it is,â he responds, and you hear some movement from behind the screen and higuruma coughs. âi should get back to work now but⌠i will see you on friday?â
âo-oh yeah, of course,â you stammer, a little shy now for some reason. âdonât let me keep you. yes⌠iâll see you then. bye hiromi.â
he murmurs your name with the same adieu, voice terribly soft, as it always is when heâs talking to you.
when the line clicks dead, all youâre left with is silence and the quiet ache in your chest that seems to ebb and flow but never truly go away when it comes to him.
you stare at your phone a moment longer, before stuffing it into your pocket and getting up from the chair.
friday suddenly canât come quick enough.
á° á° á° á° á°
the rest of the week comes and goes, and before you know it, friday evening is just mere minutes away.
you walk around your apartment doing some finishing touches while dinner cooks: fluffing up your couch pillows, making sure your little cat stays tucked in and asleep in the spare bedroom, fixing the angles of your framed photos, and of course, making sure your bedroom is presentable lest you partake in any after meal activities (which, of course, is purely contingent on how the conversation with higuruma goes, and that conversation will be had, you have made sure of it).
you then saunter to your bedroom mirror, hands smoothing over your dark evening dress as you take a mirror selfie, sending it to your friends who insist that youâre not too dressed up, as they respond with a flurry of heart eyes, compliments and gushing words.
with some newfound confidence, you throw your phone onto the bed, admiring yourself in the reflection for a moment, and the thought of higurumaâs reaction to how you look sends your knees into a slight buckle, to which you scold yourself over.
âcomposure, woman,â you grumble, storming back into the kitchen, your heels clacking alongside you in rhythmic fashion. âitâs not about that right now.â
unbeknownst to you, higuruma stands outside your apartment, glancing at himself through the metal of your numbered door, and he lifts a thumb to brush through his eyebrows and the front of his hair.
with one arm, he tightens his black tie against his crisp white shirt, balancing a bottle of pinot noir and a bouquet of dark orchids and lillies. he checks the time on his wristwatch once more, waiting for the clock to strike at exactly seven when he lifts a finger to press against the doorbell.
youâre back in the kitchen and checking on the starter when you hear it, gasping and muttering a few expletives under your breath as you click and clack to the front door, unlocking it and pulling it open, smiling up and expectantly at higuruma in all his glory.
âhey. right on time.â
a slow, steady curve of a smile spreads across his face as he takes you in â really looks at you â for the first time that week since your last rendezvous.
âyou,â he says softly, voice already teetering on ragged, âare killing me.â
he steps forward, eyes scanning you up and down like he wants to permanently etch the image of you right now into his retinas and brain.
as bashful as ever, you bite back a smile, cheeks heating up at his very obvious appreciation. higuruma then gestures to the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers in his hold. âthese are for you. i know you said i didnât need to bring anything but⌠it didnât sit right with my conscience to show up empty handed while you dote on me.â
you awe at him, taking the the gifts into your arms, and stepping backwards into your apartment. âreally, hiromi, you shouldnât have⌠but please, come on. dinner will be ready in just a moment.â
hiromi steps in from behind you, and you donât check to see that heâs already close to next to you as you get out a vase and fill it with water to accommodate for the lovely flowers.
he follows you inside, his gaze still roaming appreciatively over the way the smooth fabric of your dress curves over your hips as you walk. you can see his fingers twitch at his side from your periphery and you have to bite back a pleased smile at how well received your current get up is with the man lingering behind you.
âyou look absolutely stunning, by the way,â he says, almost exasperated at the fact.
you look at him over your shoulder for a mere second, smiling as humbly as ever.
âthank you⌠you clean up well yourself,â you jest, with a teasing lilt to your voice.
you take out a vase, filling it up with water. âum, dinner wonât be ready for a little while so feel free to make yourself comfortable.â
all the while, hiromi just watches silently as you put the flowers he brought you into the vase. as if operating on pure instinct, he takes his blazer off, draping it over a dining room chair. his tie has already come a little loose.
he watches you bustle around the kitchen and youre yet to see that he just... stands there, watching you, so obviously taking in the way that you look.
you hum a little tune to yourself, getting out a couple plates as you finish up, eyes darting when it feels like youâre being watched from your peripheral vision.
you spin, wine glasses in your hand as you raise a brow at hiromi, walking over to where he leans by the dining room table.
âwhen i said make yourself comfortable, i meant make yourself at home. not watch me while i finish dinner.â
the corner of his lips twitches â like he knows heâs been caught.
he holds your gaze when you walk over, his eyes on you like an animal about to pounce on his prey, but when he catches you staring right at him, he has to look away for a moment and clear his throat, as if to signal that he was deep in thought and definitely not checking you out.
you huff, rolling your eyes as you place the glasses on the table. âthe starter will be done soon⌠i just need to make sure that the wellington doesnât burn andâŚâ
you turn to him again as you trail off, hands moving from your hips to shoo him off. ânow go away. snoop if you must. iâll call you when dinnerâs ready.â
âsnoop?â he echoes, feigning offense as he finally pushes off the table. "iâm just appreciating the view."
hiromi gives you a slow, crooked smile of appreciation coupled with defeat â rare and genuine from a man of his stoic disposition (has that been said before?) as he then turns to wander into your living room.
when you finish up like promised, placing two plates on the table: two identical dishes of shrimp risotto across the table, parallel, you wander off to the living room, and you find hiromi strewn across the couch like he owns the thing, and from where you stand, you see his fingers over the spine of one of your textbooks on the coffee table before pausing at a framed photo: you and your friends, arms all slung around each other, grinning like fools in front of cherry blossoms.
his thumb brushes over it gently, and you almost donât want to call for him from where youâre greedily eating up the way he fits in your home.
instead, you compromise. you quietly walk back into the dining room, coughing loudly before shouting out.
âhiromi, your presence is wanted!â
âyes, ma'am.â
heâs already there before you know it, his long legs carry him the distance to the dining table in a few strides, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting.
âthat smells good.â
âthank you,â you say, sitting down. âplease, enjoy.â
he doesn't move right away.
instead, he just... watches you spoon up your food, and itâs only when you look up at him to wipe away some remnants from the corner of your mouth does he smile softly and pick up his spoon.
âthen iâll start before i embarrass myself by staring at you any longer.â
he takes a bite â and genuinely moans in appreciation.
â⌠this is incredible.â
you smile softly, a little flustered. âthank you⌠itâs just something i threw together. iâm glad you like it.â
he laughs a little to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.
âjust something you threw together? bullshit. this is better than most restaurants here in tokyo.â
another bite: this time, a slightly bigger one. he savours it, closing his eyes as he tastes it on his tongue.
âwhere the hell did you learn to cook like this?â
you shrug, taking another spoonful into your mouth. âcookingâs fun. thereâs actually not much to do as a working woman when you donât have time for anything but work, eat and sleep⌠might as well make it more tolerable.â
hiromi pauses mid-bite, his eyes narrowing slightly. âare you saying you spend your spare time cooking?"
he stares at you, completely incredulous before a slow, crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
âyouâre unreal.â
you raise a brow while hiding back a humble smile over the curve of your spoon. âi mean, what else could possibly better suited for my time? plus, i like cooking for people⌠makes me feel good.â
hiromi can't help the way his eyes rove over you again, lingering on your mouth, your neck, the smooth expanse of skin he can see above the neckline of your dress.
âyou enjoy doing it for others, huh?â he teases, though there's a hint of something else in his voice. âand if you're the only person there? who do you cook for then?â
you ponder at that, taken aback at his faithfulness. âhm. i guess iâve never really thought of it that way.â
you think for a moment, then takes a sip from your wine glass, sweet and red yet bitter and light. âi guess itâs a little different when itâs for myself⌠but that could be applied to almost everything in my life. i think you have to be slightly masochistic to be a doctor.â
a soft huff of laughter escapes him at that, his eyes warm and bright on yours over the rim of his glass.
âslightly masochistic, huh? is that a requirement for you doctors?â
hiromi takes another sip in tandem, tongue in cheek before he huffs again. âi guess that's how you end up working yourself into the ground for ungrateful patients and shitty hours."
âhey â takes one to know one,â you retort, raising a brow. âswap patients for clients and defendants and thatâs basically your life to a t.â
hiromi tilts his head backward as if in thought before nodding in agreement, his shoulders shifting beneath his shirt.
âfair enough,â he concedes, lips curved in a wry smile. âthough i get to charge them a hell of a lot more.â
he takes another bite, then:
âthat being said... my shitty hours do come with a good salary.â
âoh?â you says, spooning another bite into your mouth. âhere i thought that public defenders were one of the more oppressed groups in our judicial system.â
âahââ he smirks, leaning forward slightly. âcareful, doctor. iâm not just a public defender anymore.â
hiromiâs voice drops a notch â smooth, confident and it almost has your spine sitting up straight from the buzz of conduction that tickles up the nerves.
âiâve got my own practice now. we handle civil litigation and criminal defense â you know, pro bono for those who need it most."
he watches you over his glass as he takes another sip, smacking his lips quietly as if to make a point.
âplease donât let the modest suits fool you. i can afford to take you out for more than just dinner.â
you raise your hands in mock surrender. âforgive me for my preconceived notions⌠and thatâs very good to know.â
he laughs, low and warm that it has you grinning from bask of it, and there's a flicker of something proud in his eyes.
ânot going to lie, i like that you didnât know,â he admits, swirling the wine in his glass. âmeans you weren't after me for my bank account.â
his gaze lifts to meet yours, suddenly serious.
â...you were after me for me.â
itâs your turn to laugh quietly this time, leaning back in your chair.
âwell, while i am glad to have given you that impression, i grew up relatively well off⌠men with money are a dime a dozen. it means very little to me in the grand scheme of things.â
hiromiâs lips quirk in an amused smile, eyes narrowing slightly. âis that right? have you dated a lot of rich men, doctor?â
you snort, leaning forward onto the palm of your hands as the man in front of you sets his fork down, his wine glass joining it in a quiet, soft thump. his eyes never leave your face. âdo i give you that impression?â
âno, not at all,â he jibes, cheeks dimpling ever so faintly, âbut i am beginning to wonder if I'm at risk here," he teases, but there's a hint of sincerity in his voice. "you might take one look at my paycheck and dump me for someone richer."
you shake your head, smiling a little. âau contraire, mr lawyer⌠all i can do is assure you in thatââ and you top off his glass of red, before pouring some in your own.
âmoney just doesnât impress me quite as much as you may think it does.â
you polish off your plate, looking at him. ânow, are you done? the main is almost ready.â
hiromi blinks at you.
right. dinner.
you donât fail to notice that heâs been sitting, staring at you the entire time. nevertheless, he recovers quickly with a curt nod, flashing you a lazy smile as he finally sets his silverware down.
âyes, iâm done. that was delicious, by the way⌠not that i expect anything less from you, doctor.â
he grins wider, raising his empty wine glass in a mock toast.
you rolls your eyes at him fondly, playfully brushing past his shoulder with the sway of your hip as you take his plate and your own to the kitchen behind where you eat.
the moment you walk away, hiromiâs eyes follow, lingering like a dedicated flame. he lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair and he tries his hardest to stay seated â fingers drumming once against the table â before finally standing and walking into the kitchen behind you.
he leans against the arched doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
âlet me help.â
you look over at him, putting on your apron and taking out some folded oven gloves. âi would be a terrible hostess if i let my guest help me cook.â
he steps closer, too close; close enough to smell the vanilla in his hair that mingles with the faint citrus of your perfume.
âthen consider it a rebellion," he teases, his voice low and gentle, "against good hosting."
his fingers graze yours as he takes the dish from your hands, the heat between them not just from the oven.
âlet me do this⌠please?â
you raise a brow in contemplation before decidedly raising your hands in stark white defeat. âokay⌠fine. youâve officially browbeaten me into submission,â and you rest your hands on your hips for a second, before lifting up a tray.
âhere. you can take the pot of gravy to the table while i slice the wellington.â
he smiles triumphantly, taking the pot from you easily. heâs a little too smug, the look in those grey eyes justifiably victorious.
âi am good at that, you know," he says as he walks away. the words have a double meaning, and you canât help think that the both of you know it.
he sets the dish down in the middle of the table, then returns to the kitchen again, finding his way behind you once again.
âi would hope so, mr lawyer,â you say, passing him a pot of potatoes. ânow take this and sit down. iâll be there with our second course of the evening.â
âyes, ma'am.â
the corners of his lips twitch, holding back a smile at the authoritative tone in your voice. you can tell he wants to tease you more, to say something cheeky and infuriating, but the side eye glance you give him makes him hold his tongue, bowing his head as he returns to the dining room.
he takes the potatoes like the committed one he is and sits, hands on his lap, a proper gentleman waiting for his meal.
but his eyes never leave you.
you return, with two plates of beef wellington and tenderstem broccoli (to which youâve told hiromi that there is a difference and that it is superior to normal broccoli), sliding them onto the table.
you sit across from him once again. âwell then⌠please enjoy.â
he looks down at the meal before him; and then, of course, there's you in front of him.
he has to swallow thickly so as to not give anything away in his voice, dark eyes lifting back to yours.
âthank you,â he says quietly. âthis looks amazing.â
you beam at him, (and you subtly notice that you keep doing a lot of that tonight, but can it even be helped when in such gorgeous and suave company?), digging into your own portion.
hiromi chews and swallows, making little to no noise âbut then says suddenly, "can i ask you something?"
you look up at him, mid bite, nodding. âof course.â
âwhyâd you go into neurosurgery?â
his voice is gentle yet serious, which is typical of hiromiâs nature. itâs one of things you like most about him.
he watches you closely as he waits for the answer, to which your lips curl a little at the corners as you think, your eyes flitting down to your plate. âit was the only specialty that didnât make me want to off myself after every rotation.â
hiromi is surprised into a shocked, choking sort of laugh. his eyes roam over you, a slight smirk on his lips.
âthat is... brutally honest.â
you laugh a little sheepishly, shaking your head.
âiâm sorry i donât have a more politically correct answer⌠iâm sure if you asked me 4 years ago in the midst of med school, i wouldâve said that i just want to help peopleâŚbut itâs like you said: the people are ungrateful and the hours are long. and the pay always starts out to be downright abysmal.â
hiromi snorts, shaking his head almost ruefully.
âoh, believe me, i know how bad the hours are. and the pay is just a joke, so much so it feels like an insult. you can work yourself to the bone and there's no rewardâjust a slap on the back and a 'keep up the good work.'â
his fingers drum softly on the tabletop, like he can't stay still. he lets out a sigh, a tired sound, accompanied by the dark circles under his eyes, as if to serve as a physical reminder of their shared relatability.
âi get it. trust me⌠i get it.â
you nod, eyes softening. âyeah⌠itâs pretty much exactly that.â you then huffs, shaking your head. âbut i donât know⌠i like my job for the most part. i work with a lot of kids mostly, so thatâs the silver lining. although, maybe not⌠while theyâre a lot more pleasant than the adults i take care of⌠that makes the suffering oh, so much worse.â
âyou..." he pauses, a look on his face you canât quite name. "...you like kids?"
âmhmm,â you hum behind a sip of wine. âi love them⌠i especially adore the kids i work withâŚâ and you say it all with a growing smile on your face, unknowing to you but ever so obvious to the man sat opposite you.
âi think someone who dislikes the worldâs most innocent would be someone i wouldnât particularly want to get to know in any capacity⌠how about you? do you like kids, hiromi?â
he doesnât hesitate for even a second. âi do.â
the smile on his face is almost boyishly earnest when he says itâ and he looks at you, with your soft, pretty featuresâand all he can picture is the way you'd look, a little swollen with a child in your belly.
he swallows, heat rising in his face. â... i like them a lot.â
this time, itâs your turn to be a little shocked, and you raise a brow. âreally?â with blatant disbelief laden in your tone.
âhuh. i never got that vibe from you.â
his lips twitch, caught somewhere between a smirk and an honest-to-god blush.
âyou don't think i look the type?â he leans forward slightly, voice dropping. "just because i spend my days arguing with assholes in court doesn't mean i don't want to come home to tiny little people who call me daddy.â
he says it casually (too casually) but his eyes flicker to yours for just a second, testing the waters.
â...i have always wanted kids.â
you smile at that, chuckling at his choice of words.
âso, let me get this straight: youâre a 35 year old defence attorney who earns a decent living, loves kids and is dashingly handsome? what exactly were you doing before we met?â
his cheeks flush even warmer at your words, squirming a little in his seat. hiromi ends up just mirroring your own smile, dimple in his right cheek flashing as he does.
ânot finding the right woman.â he lets out a mock sort of sigh. âi was starting to think I'd die alone, honestly.â
you let out a genuine laugh at the pure cynicism in his words. âoh? pray tell. what was the dating scene like before i came and saved you?â
âa nightmare,â he deadpans, shaking his head. âi dated this one woman who kept asking me what my net worth was. another one wanted me to choose between her and my career, and that's not even including the ones who just... couldn't handle the long hours, or the demanding work of being with a defence attorney of all people.â
hiromi gives you a rueful smile, but there's a subtle trace of bitterness in his eyes. âi was starting to think my only life partner would be my job.â
you hum sympathetically at that. âi can imagineâŚâ and you trail off, before letting curiosity slip into the conversation.
âdid you ever expect to be married by now?â and then youâre backtracking a little, sheepishly waving your hands. ânot that thereâs anything wrong with being unmarried at your ageâ!â you add, to which hiromi laughs at your sincerity, leaning backwards into the seat, arms folded.
âand, of course i donât think youâre old by any means⌠Iâm just⌠curious, is all.â
he makes a noise of understanding, nodding. âiâve always thought i would be married before i turned thirty-five,â he admits quietly, taking another sip of the wine in his glass.
hiromi looks down at his hands, a little abashed as he says, â...i know, i know. it doesn't make sense. iâm relatively young; iâm successful. hell, iâve even been told iâm attractive, which is really strange to say out loud.â
you laugh and so does he, but there's that rueful sort of edge to it again. âi guess i just never met the right woman.â
âdid you ever get close to?â you ask, finger dancing over the rim of your cup.
he lets out a humorless sort of huff, scrubbing a hand over his face as he thinks.
âonce or twice,â he confesses, âi got close a couple of times. things were going well, and i thought we were on the same page, and then... suddenly, they'd realize the hours were too stressful. or i was too obsessed with my job. or we just wanted... different things.â
hiromi glances at you across the table, grey eyes steady as he says, âit never worked out for one reason or another.â
you hum again, pondering⌠thinking.
âthatâs fair⌠unfortunately, i canât fault it. long hours can really make or break a relationship. itâs always that, coupled with miscommunication.â
âmiscommunication,â he repeats, almost grimly, the word itself leaving a tart taste in his mouth.
he says your name, shaking his head. âyou have no idea. iâve been told i was too 'emotionally distant', that i don't show enough affection. that i expect people to read my mind. hell, iâve even had women walk out because they said i was 'too intense'.â
he snorts.
âiâm not that difficult, am i?â
you go noticeabley quiet at that, eyes widening before they dart back to your finger playing with the rim of your wine glass. âdifficult?âŚthatâs a loaded word.â
he cocks his head at the hesitance in your voice, as if he can practically see you gearing up to respond with some sort of placating bullshitâ you're too nice, too kind âso he speaks before you can.
âplease," he says softly. âbe honest. i can take it.â
you open and close your mouth, looking at him with pitying eyes for a second before sighing defeatedly, looking down at your half eaten meal.
âi actually think it might be the opposite⌠youâre notâŚâ and you trail off, nibbling your bottom lip gently.
âi donât know how to articulate this in a way that doesnât sound too presumptuous or⌠insulting.â
âthen don't sugarcoat it.â
hiromiâs voice is quiet but steady, eyes locked on yours despite the forlorn look of something⌠not as hard hitting as agony, but not as unassuming as pain.
"iâm asking because i want to know. not for comfort. so say itâwhatever it is."
you sigh again, this time deeply.
âi donât think youâre intense enough.â
he blinks at that, caught completely off guard by the response. you could see that he was bracing himself for something bad â probably waiting for you to list all the things he was used to hearing from past relationships. this was probably the last thing he was expecting.
hiromiâs lips part, grey eyes widening ever so slightly.
â...say that again?â
you look up at him from your plate, swallowing thickly.
ââŚi⌠i like you a lot, hiromi⌠and i know itâs very early days into this relationship,â and you say that a little quieter than the rest, âbut sometimes⌠sometimes it feels like you donât⌠like me all that much, at least, not as much as i do.â
you scoff, face warming a bit under the strobe light of the dining room. âgod, i sound like an immature school girl with an unrequited crush.â
hiromiâs throat seemingly goes completely dry, all the air leaving his lungs in a quiet whoosh. â...what makes you think that?â
you shrug, shaking your head, picking up your fork to drag a stray piece of broccolini stem across your plate, back and forth, back and forth.
âitâs silly now that i think about saying it out loud.â
immediately, his expression softens, almost pained by the hesitance in your voice.
he looks at the uncertainty in your eyes and you donât fail to notice that his arms twitch, as if he wills them to stay by his side.
âplease,â he repeats softly. âtell me. why would you think for even a second that i don't like you?â
âitâs not that i think you donât like me, or that you donât enjoy my company to a certain degreeâŚâ and you trail off, looking up at him, eyes soft and gentle but a little nervous.
âi⌠just⌠sometimes, beyond our sexual chemistry⌠i never know what youâre thinking⌠you donât say much, nor do you call, o-or tell me what youâre really thinking. and i know, itâs only been a few months, so iâve kept most of this to myself in fear of⌠scaring you away with my own intensityâŚâ
the longer you speak, the more the breath leaves your body, and the more his expression grows solemn in nature.
hearing the quiet insecurity in your own voice makes your chest ache in a way you canât control, and youâre sure hiromi feels it too, with the way he shakes his head slowly, as if trying to clear it.
â...you can't be serious,â he murmurs. â...of course i like you. more than like you. i thought that was obvious.â
youâre still rendered unable to look him in his warm grey eyes.
âi know you like me, of course i do⌠but i donât knowâŚâ and you trail off, the vegetables on your plate thoroughly covered in sauce and gravy now.
âi just⌠iâve never stayed the night, nor have you offered⌠and i know, i know itâs immature of me when i could just ask, and youâd more than likely say yes, butâŚâ
the words get stuck again, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat.
âi donât know. itâs stupid. iâm sorry.â
meanwhile, hiromi is stunned into momentary silence.
almost immediately, he reaches across the table, fingers closing gently around your wrist.
âno,â he breathes, eyes pleading. "itâs not stupid, not at all. look at me.â
you looks at his hand enclosed around your wrist, before meeting his earnest gaze, still waiting⌠quiet and expectant.
his grip tightens ever so slightly.
"youâre not stupid," he repeats, his voice even more gentle. âdonât apologise. iâm not upset, i just... i can't believe you've been feeling this way and i never knew. i was so worried about scaring you off, iâd never even thought to consider about how you'd view me during all of this.â
his thumb brushes over your pulse point, feeling your racing heart beneath his fingertips.
itâs your turn to look at him in disbelief.
âyouâve been worried about scaring me off?â
his free hand runs anxiously through his hair, frustration clear in his expression.
âof course i have,â he confesses. âyouâve no idea how much iâve tried to keep myself in check â to keep myself from going too hard, saying too much, going too fast... i didn't want to scare you off or make you think i was clingy.â
his thumb continues to brush circles across your wrist, the motion so soothing, so subconscious, he doesn't even realize he's doing it, but it helps lower your guard nonetheless, as he has you huffing out a laugh now, way more relieved and very sheepish.
âi⌠i had no idea⌠now i feel silly for assuming the worst. iâm sorry.â
âdonât say that,â he murmurs, giving your wrist a light squeeze.
âi should have been more straightforward from the very beginning, i just... i didn't want to push you. i figured you'd want to take things slow. that you'd want space. i didn't want to...â
he scoffs, his voice growing thick. â...i didn't want to come on too strong too early on and end up losing you.â
you slide your wrist out of his hand to replace it with your palm instead.
the moment your hand slides into hisâ warm, steady, and oh so, sure âsomething inside him cracks open like a gently steamed egg. his breath hitches.
âi really like what we have, hiromi⌠and iâd like us to be serious. i want you to want me even if you think iâll reject you⌠because nine times out of ten, iâm most definitely thinking the same thing as you.â
hiromi looks down at your joined hands, then back up at your face. the softness in your eyes undoes him completely.
â... i want that too," he agrees quietly. âmore than anything.â
you nod, smiling at him. âokay, then. itâs settled.â
the both of you just stare at each other, his eyes that bore into yours wordlessly converse with your own weighted gaze, hopeful and filling in the gaps of what doesnât need to be conveyed.
âsoâŚâ you finally voice, âwhat would you like to do after dessert?â
hiromiâs thumb brushes over the back of your hand this time, absentminded.
his adamâs apple bobs and settles before he clears his throat.
âi have somewhat of an idea," he says, voice low and sultry, âbut it might make me a bit of a bastard to suggest it out loud.â
you shrug, your other hand sliding atop their already conjoined ones. âi guess iâll be the judge of that.â
hiromiâs eyes flicker down to where your hands encompasses his, and he sniffles thickly.
ââŚhow would you feel if i suggested i spend the night at your place?"
you smile, almost showing all of your teeth.
âiâd really, really like thatâŚâ but then your face falls in innocent confusion. âthough, i fail to see how that would make you look like a bastard.â
his eyes darken at your guileless smile, and he manages to keep his voice steady as he says, â...well. there is one caveat."
you narrow your eyes curiously, lips pouty.
âoh? what is it?â
for a second, hiromi is completely distracted by the pout of your lip, but when you squeeze his hand, he recalibrates, coughing with no cough backed up.
âwell,â he says as casually as can be, fingers still brushing softly across your knuckles. âi have one or two... expectations, i suppose you could call them, for the night. if you're amenable, that is.â
you nod, eyes wide, still a little confused and unsure but ready to accommodate to his very preferences.
âiâm all earsâ oh,â and realisation washes all over your face. âare you insinuating what i think youâre insinuating?â
seeing you begin to catch on spreads a slow, predatory smile across his lips.
he takes his time before answering, dragging out his words like silk. âthat depends. what do you think iâm insinuating?" he asks, head tilting to the side.
you bite your bottom lip, before smiling innocently, shrugging.
âhey, youâre supposed to be the bastard right now. it wouldnât be ladylike of me to say.â
a low, rumbling laugh escapes him â dark and full of promise.
âthen iâll say it for you.â
he leans across the table just slightly, voice dropping to a velvet murmur.
âi want to stay the night. and not just sleep,â and he says your name even quieter after, âi want to have you, touch you everywhere, taste every inch of your skin.â
hiromiâs hand glosses over your knuckles again and then your palm â slowly and deliberately.
âand if you're lucky... maybe iâll let you get some sleep afterwards.â
your eyes widen, and after a pregnant pause, you inhale deeply, nodding as you pull your hand out of his grasp, standing abruptly from the table.
hiromi blinks, taken aback by the sudden loss of your touch. the beginning twist of a frown takes over his once keen expression as he watches you stand, his tone confused when he says your name, eyebrows furling. âare you okaââ
âhow about we skip dessert for now?â you interject, taking the dishes from the table.
a marauding, lopsided grin spreads across his face once again.
âoh,â he says, standing slowly from the table, dangerous when he walks toward you, closing the distance until he's just behind you against the sink. his hands rest lightly on your hips. âi like that idea.â
he noses at your neck. âi guess dessert will be served,â he murmurs against your ear, lips soft.
you snort, placing the dishes in the sink, as you look behind your shoulder and up at him. âso cheesy.â
âmaybe,â he admits unashamedly, his voice a low rumble against your ear. he doesn't move his hands from your hips despite your slight movements around the kitchen jostling him around. he knows itâs impractical, but he canât seem to let go of you knowing what is yet to occur.
âbut you're still standing here. still letting me touch you.â
his lips brush the shell of your ear as he adds, barely above a whisper:
â...and later tonight, when iâve got you gasping and begging and completely undone, you'll be calling me a lot of things.â
he grins unabashedly against your skin.
âcheesy won't be one of them.â
with an airy sigh, you lean back in his touch, eyes fluttering at his touch and words, before you flicker them open, clearing your throat as you move his hands away.
âat least let me clean up before you try to seduce me, âromi,â you retort, opening the dishwasher.
his grip tightens on you instinctively when he hears it, but he has to let go of you when you push his hands away, albeit reluctantly, stepping back to let you clean up.
âyouâre no fun,â he complains in a teasing, exasperated voice. "you really are going to make me wait, aren't you?"
âiâm not leaving dirty dishes in the sink because you want to get your dick wet,â you say crudely, turning to face him with folded arms and a smirk on your face.
âbesides, arenât you always telling me that patience is a virtue?â
he laughs tightly, shaking his head at the vulgar words coming out of your mouth, he then closes the distance between you to cage you in against the counter.
ânot when the patience has me aching for you,â he maintains, voice low and rough. âyouâre making it hard to behave.â
you let your hands slide up his chest, fiddling with the buttons on his dress shirt, a teasing smile on your face.
âare you that insatiable, my dear hiromi?â
his breath stutters in his chest as he watches you toying with the buttons on his dress shirt.
his eyes are hooded, darkened by pure, aching want.
âyou have no idea.â
his pelvis dips in, pinning you even further against the kitchen counter.
âitâs taking every ounce of self-control i have to keep from hauling you off to the bedroom this very second. youâre going to drive me absolutely insane.â
you gasp when you feel the very presence of his desire for you â thick and wanting against his slacks, and you slide your hand down to his belt loops, pulling him closer to press a kiss to his jaw.
âis there any way i could incentivise you to wait a little while, at least until my kitchen doesnât look like such a mess?â
a low, ragged groan escapes him as he feels your kiss on his jaw, the sound coming deep from within his chest.
when you suggest that he wait, he bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and when he speaks, his voice comes out thick.
âdefine a while.â
âno more than ten minutes,â you insist, your arms going to wrap around his waist.
he has to swallow, closing his eyes to ground himself when you wrap your arms around him. your touch is soft, gentle on purpose, but youâre sure that it is pure torture to him right now â like the sweetest fire engulfing you in its steady flames.
he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, before he growls low in his throat. âten minutes,â he affirms, eyes opening to meet yours.
âyou have ten minutes and then I'm having you.â
you smile, kissing his cheek before letting go. âgo wait in the bedroom⌠iâll be right there.â
he lets out an almost pained-sounding laugh when you kiss his cheek.
hiromi nods only once. âiâll be waiting,â he says, voice gruff, full of barely-kept-together restraint.
he leaves the kitchen, heading to your bedroom, his thoughts already a mess of fantasies and wanting.
at just around seven and a half minutes, you saunter into your bedroom, your heels clicking and clacking against the hard floor, and you knock teasingly, a sultry smile on your lips as you lean by the doorway.
hiromi stands by the window â deliberately composed â but the moment he hears your heels, his control slips.
the low click-clack-click of your steps sends a thrill straight down his spine. he turns slowly, and there you are: leaning in the doorway like some kind of vision sent to ruin him.
his jaw tightens.
âcutting it close,â he murmurs, voice rough with hunger as his eyes drag over every inch of you. âi was about to come looking for you.â
you roll your eyes, walking up to him and you wrap your arms around his neck.
âiâm two minutes early. what happened to the ever so patient man i know, hmm?â
his hands find your waist instantly, like a pair of magnets fighting against gravitational pull.
âthat man,â he murmurs, leaning in until his lips are just a breath away from yours, âdisappeared the second you kissed my jaw and let me know how badly you want me as i do you.â
a low hum vibrates in his chest as he finally closes the distance: not quite kissing you, but letting his lips ghost over yours with every word.
âyou happened. youâre my kryptonite."
âthatâs not good,â you pout, eyes flicking from his own to his lips.
ânow thereâs nothing stopping me from using my powers against you,â you tease, your lips one breath away from his.
a dark, thrilling laugh rumbles in his chest.
âoh, but you already have,â he whispers, lips brushing yours with every word. âevery time you look at me like that⌠every time you touch me⌠iâm putty in your hands.â
his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him so thereâs no space left between the both of you.
âbut go ahead," he dares, voice low and rough. âuse them.â
you roll your eyes. âlike i said before⌠cheesy.â
you donât let him retort, pulling him down by his loosened tie to kiss him deeply.
hiromi lets out a low, ragged sound the second your mouth touches his, like all the air leaving his lungs in a one swift rush.
he kisses you like a man starving, every kiss heavy and demanding, filled with a need that borders on desperation. he can't get close enough to you; he pulls you up hard against him, fingers slipping into your hair to hold you in place as he slides his tongue against yours.
your head spins, letting him overcrowd your very senses until your knees are buckling, until you're breathless and trembling in his hands.
you canât help but whine haplessly into his mouth, your tongue gliding against his and you eventually pull apart, moving his hands off of you to hold him by the arm.
âtake off your shoes.â
when you pull back, it takes him a moment to collect himself enough to hear your words.
he lets out a low, ragged laugh at your order, though he obeys immediately. his shoes get kicked off his feet and hit the floor with a thump and he looks at you, eyebrow raised.
âbossy,â he quips, his voice still rough. âyouâre lucky i find it sexy.â
you kick off your own heels, tugging him by his arm till heâs at the edge of your expansive bed, and you push him down into the silky sheets and quilted pillows.
he lets himself be pushed back easily, his eyes darkened with desire as he looks up at you.
immediately, he reaches for you, wanting to haul you down on top of him.
âc'mereâŚ" he murmurs, the words both an order and a plea.
you swat his hands away, but you comply anyway, climbing on top of him, your arms wrapping around his neck.
his breath hitches as you settle on top of him â warm, soft, perfect. âyouâre killing me," he grunts against your lips, hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips.
he arches slightly beneath you, silently begging for more.
âdo you have any idea what you do to me?
you shake your head, laving wet kisses against his jaw, neck and the corner of his mouth, avoiding his lips that edge towards you.
âno⌠but iâd really like for you to tell me.â
his fingers dig into your hips as you kiss every inch of skin except his mouth and lets out a low, ragged swear when you drag your lips over his jaw, leaving his skin on fire.
âi ache,â he confesses, voice cracking, âi ache to touch you, to taste you, to be inside you. youâre all i think about sometimes â all i want⌠you drive me crazy.â
a pleased grin takes over your swollen lips, and you place your hands flat by his head as you look down at him. âgood answer.â
you finally decide to take him out of his misery, sliding your arms around his neck again and then slotting your mouth over his.
he groans against your mouth, the sound coming from deep within him, the last thread of his restraint snapping.
without warning, he flips you both over so you're beneath him, his hips pushing between your legs, pinning you down against the bed.
his lips crush yours in a crushing, searing kiss. he parts your lips with his tongue, invading your mouth like a man starving. he kisses all sense of reason from you, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully tight.
you squeak against his lips when he does, your hands holding his face as you lick into his mouth with just as much passion and enthusiasm.
your arm lifts slightly to rest against the back of his neck, eyes rolling back under their lids as you moan into him.
he feels your moan vibrate against his mouth, sending fire through his veins.
his hands slide under your dress â slow at first, then bolder â as they glide up the soft skin of your thighs. a low noise rumbles in his chest when he feels you trembling beneath his touch.
âlet me feel all of you,â he pleads, voice ragged with need as he grinds down harder, the heat between you almost unbearable. âplease.â
you break the kiss with a wet pop!, pushing him onto his back and into the pillows as you kneel up on the bed.
âsince you asked so nicely,â you tease with swollen, shiny lips, your hand pushing a strap down from your shoulder.
his breath comes fast and uneven as he watches you move over him, rasping out your name with a voice thick with desire, hands twitching at his sides like he's fighting not to reach for you.
but when you slowly push the strap down, revealing just a hint of skin, his control frays at the seams.
hiromi surges up suddenly, fast and smooth, flipping you beneath him once again in one swift motion.
âlet me," he sighs against your ear. âlet me undress you."
you giggle, but itâs only full of desire. âyouâre so impatient, today, hiro⌠but please, be my guest.â
when you give him permission, he doesn't hesitate. his hands fly towards to the zipper behind you, tugging it down agonisingly slowly, letting each inch of skin reveal itself like a gift he's unwrapping with reverence.
âso beautiful," he murmurs raggedly, eyes dark and hungry. âiâve been aching to see you like this again for days.â
you bite your lip, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders loosely, the material around your breasts bunching up around you as hiromi pulls down the zip even further. his touch â even the most innocent touch â has your body on fire, your blood singing while every muscle in your body coils tight with aching.
âit hasnât even been a full week since we last had sex,â you breathes, a little giggly and very infatuated with the man lying on top of you.
âevery moment iâm not touching you is a moment too long, as far as I'm concerned,â he contends, leaning in to brush his lips feather-soft against your neck.
as the dress drops away from your top half, he drinks in the sight of you, like a man dying of thirst. âchrist, you're gorgeous.â
you open your mouth to retort teasingly, but instead you just sigh when his lips touch your skin, the dress bunching and falling to sit around your waist, inadvertently revealing your bare breasts to him, and surprisingly, a silver bar in your left nipple.
hiromiâs eyes land on that small, shining piece of metal with a sharp intake of breath.
for a moment, all he does is stare, his heart hammering in his chest.
âyou got a piercing,â he murmurs, voice coarse. âand you didn't tell me?
he can't help himself; he reaches, calloused fingers tracing lightly over the skin over the shiny metal. itâs like a jolt to his monkey brain receptors, seeing you like this. âwhen did you get this?â
you bite your lip, a soft groan leaving your throat.
âback during my rebellious university days⌠took it out once i grew my frontal lobe,â you tell, then your eyelashes flutter to where he thumbs around the hardened peak, âbut i put it back in every now and then so it doesnât close up⌠i never meant to not tell you, hiro.â
meanwhile, you can tell hiromi is so overwhelmed right now: by you, by the sight of you like this, and all he can do is take a slow, sharp inhale as his fingers runs over the jewelry.
âitâs...holy, it's sexy," he mutters, his eyes still fixed on your chest as his thumb and forefinger run feather-light over the cold titanium. âjesus, i don't think iâve ever been more turned on by something in my entire life.â
you can only just let out a bubble of laughter, eyes hazy at how fascinated he is with a simple piercing on your body. it soon breaks off into a moan when his fingertip flicks against the skin.
âyou sure know how to make a woman feel beautiful.â
âyou are beautiful,â he murmurs quicky, voice thick with veneration, with you at the altar. âevery inch of you.â
his lips find your neck again, soft, hot kisses trailing down to your collarbone. then lower.
when his mouth hovers just above the silver bar, he looks up at you through his lashes â dark eyes burning with hot desire.
âmay i?â he asks, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin.
you keen at his words, the way heâs looking at you right now doing little to quell the flames in your lower belly.
a sharp whine leaves your throat before you can stop yourself, nodding. âof course, hiro.â
his whole body responds to the way you give him consent, shuddering while his groin drags a little against you. he has to take a moment to compose himself, though the moment lasts less than a few seconds because he then he lowers his head, mouth closing around the sensitive, metal-clad nipple. he sucks gently at first, his warm, soft tongue moving in slow, languid licks.
thereâs something so oddly intimate about this, despite the obviousness of him almost having you. it can't be described with mere words â you just... feel completely taken with him, and you know he feels the exact same. it has you wanting to slap yourself for ever second guessing how he feels about you.
your eyes flutter shut, a hand weaving into his strands as he sucks the sensitive peak, a flurry of gentle whines and whimpers leaving your lips in succession.
the sound of your whimpers â soft and needy â has him sucking harder, teeth grazing. one hand press further onto your hips, wanting to keep you here like this for as long as possible, while the other slides up to your other less than decorated nipple, fingers pinching and pulling at the skin.
âthatâs it, sweetheart," he whispers softly, lips trailing a path up your chest. âlet me hear you.â
his hand moves then, tracing down the flat of your stomach, his fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of whatever's still left of your dress.
you hum, helping him pull down the rest of your dress as you shimmy, till youâre fully naked, save for your cotton panties, a cute navy blue with a growing damp spot in the middle of it.
âjesus...â he breathes, voice raw when he says your name as he takes in the sight of you â flushed, trembling, so wet for him already.
hiromiâs fingers trace the damp spot over your panties with agonizing slowness, watching your hips twitch beneath his touch.
âso responsive,â he murmurs. âso perfect.â
he leans down until his mouth hovers just above the fabric. âcan i take these off?â
you nod incessantly, watching as his deft fingers curl into the waistband.
youâre a little breathless when you eventually speak while his hands drag down your thighs with your permission, pushing them together slowly. âjust for the record, while i think the fact that you ask for my consent is really sexy⌠i always want you to touch me, hiro.â
his breathing stutters at your words, his fingers now back on the edge of your panties.
a low, ragged sound rumbles from the depth of his chest.
âoh, sweetheart,â he drawls, eyes dark and hazy with need. âi will never forget you said that.â
his fingers slide beneath the fabric, tugging softly. âlift your hips for me, baby.â
you comply obediently, lifting your hips and letting hiromi slide your underwear down your legs, a slight string of your wetness snapping and pooling against the cotton of the panties.
he watches every movement, entranced and breathless as the last scrap of fabric finally falls away, leaving you bare under his ravenous gaze and preying hands.
the glistening heat between your thighs steals his voice completely; all he can do is crawl back up your body, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thigh⌠then higher⌠until his breath fans over you, searing and eager.
âso pretty," he says to himself. âso wet.â
hiromi looks up at you one last time before he leans in:
âlet me taste you.â
you bite your lip, eyelashes fluttering when you feel a puff of balmy air over your sensitive folds, your hole clenching over nothing, eyes lidded as you watch just how close he gets to where you want â no â need him.
âare you asking or are you telling?â you breathe out, voice sliced thick with unrepentant desire.
hiromi chuckles softly, eyes still fixed on your core as he edges closer.
âiâm telling,â he says, subdued in its tone. âi just want to make you feel good.â
his mouth is so close that it's almost like he's speaking against you. âcan i, sweetheart? please," he mutters, eyes meeting yours in a way he knows you can't resist. âlet me taste you.â
you whines at the way he speaks to you, it going straight to your already leaky core while your mind turns to mush even before he can even get his mouth on you. you end up just nodding dumbly.
âo-okay. yes, please.â
âgood girl,â he responds, the words barely above a whisper, like a secret just for you and him.
and then his mouth is on you, hot and sure and devastating. he laps at you like he's been starving, slow at first to savor every drop, then deeper, hungrier. his tongue circles your clit with just the right pressure â one hand sliding under your lower back to hold you steady as his lips close around that sensitive nub.
âmmm,â he groans against you, on purpose but also not, feeling how your entire body jolts at the sensation.
you taste sweet and sharp all at once.
your mouth falls slack, your hand weaving into his thick dark strands as a saccharine moan flies out of your mouth.
âoh, hiroââ you sigh breathily, lidded eyes watching the way he devours at you, the way the curve of his nose digs into your puffy little clit, his groans sending little pulses of sharp pleasure through you, your essence flowing out of your tensing hole.
when he hears name on your lips like that, it nearly unravels him.
he growls against your slovenly cunt, drinking in the way you shudder and pulse under his mouth. the more you drip, the deeper he laps at you, chasing every drop. his tongue circles your clit again and again before he pulls back just enough to blow softly over your wet heat.
âso responsive,â he grunts heavily. âdo you like it when i eat you out like this?â
he doesn't wait for an answer: he instead just dips two slender fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right as his mouth closes over your clit again with an intense suction.
you cry out, your fingers tugging on his hair a little tighter as he curves two fingers inside your wet cavern. a breathy âoh, fuck Hiroâ climbs out of your chest, and you subconsciously raise your hips against him, body like a live wire when the curve of his angular nose digs into your clit in tandem with his soothing yet bullying tongue.
on the other hand, the way you tug on hiromiâs hair makes him shiver, the vibration travelling from his mouth to your body.
pulling his mouth away from your core ever so slowly, his fingers work even deeper, crooking just right as he looks up at you through thick, dark lashes. âsay it again,â he demands, his breath fanning against your inner thigh. âmy name. i want to hear it again.â
âhi-hiro,â you stutter, a heavy moan tearing out of your esophagus when his blunt fingers catch against that spongy spot inside of you, your back arching. âfuck, âm close⌠slow down⌠iâm gonâ... âm gonna make a messâ!â
âyeah?â he double checks, fingers moving in fast, torturous circles.
âyou want me to slow down, sweet thing?â he dips his head, kissing your inner thigh with a wet open mouth. âbut i thought i was gonna make a mess of you. isnât that what i promised, sweetheart?â
he sucks a mark into the skin â dark and blooming like the others, a quiet claim in the midst of your harvesting orgasm.
âyouâre so close,â he groans in awe. âso pretty when you're about to come all over my fingers, sweetheart.â
you shake your head as if trying to will away the intensity of whatâs to come, intaking a sharp breath as your stomach tenses, eyes rolling back, your mouth dropping in a silent scream as you cum all over Hiromiâs fingers and face, squirting clear liquid all over him.
you warble out his name in a sea of âoh fuck Hiro, right there, donâ stop, âm cumming, oh Hiroââ riding out your peak against his mouth, nose and fingers.
all the while, hiromi doesn't pull away. he canât, not does he want to.
the moment you cry out his name, he groans low and deep, fingers still pumping deep inside you, curling them just right as your walls clamp down hard and arduous.
his lips stays locked around your clit â sucking gently, rhythmically â as you sob through your orgasm, and even as your body tenses and spasms into oversensitivity, he doesnât stop.
he drinks your arousal like a man possessed, and his cock is painfully hard now, straining against his slacks as he grinds into the mattress below.
hiromi drags every last wave from you with slow thrusts of his fingers and soft flicks of his tongue until youâre whimpering, pushing weakly at his shoulders.
when your trembling begins to subside, he pulls back slowly: lips glistening and slick with your release. he looks up at you through hooded satisfied eyes, kissing your inner thigh gently.
you pant breathlessly, looking down at him for a second before collapsing despite already lying down, boneless. when you come to, you cover your face when you see the dampness on the sheets that still drips from your boyfriendâs face.
âplease, please donât tell me i squirted on you,â you say, muffled.
he smiles against the skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing gently, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your blanched flesh as he watches you try to collect yourself.
âoh, sweet thing,â he coos at you, âis that what you're worried about? that you made a mess?â
he kisses right behind your knee as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, bringing them to his lips and humming in deep, vulgar satisfaction as he sucks each one clean. âi don't mind a little mess.â
you groan behind your hands, shaking your head.
âyou donât understand, hiromi⌠iâve literally never done that before⌠iâm mortified.â
he chuckles quietly against your skin, his hands continuing to move across your body like he canât keep them still after witnessing you fall from grace, like he just needs to be touching you.
âsweetheart, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, i promise,â he states, matter of fact.
hiromi reaches up to pull your hands away from your face, looking at you with eyes full of a tenderness that nearly burns your skin raw.
âlook at me.â
you sigh, opening your bleary eyes to look down at him, letting him pull your hands away.
he looks into your eyes, his gaze locked and intense, still dark and hungry behind his usually warm and sated pupils.
âyou don't have to be embarrassed," he repeats, his thumb stroking your thigh. "i liked it.â
his eyes drop to your lips and he wets his own, tongue darting out. âit made me feel so good to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he admits softly.
you canât help but pout nonetheless. ââŚreally?â
âbaby,â he lets out, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your thigh. âi swear i loved it. i love feeling you lose control like that⌠knowing that iâm the one to make youââ he presses another kiss to your skin. ââfeelââ kiss. ââsoââkiss. ââgood.â
you sighs as he litters kisses all over your skin, chewing on your bottom lip to wane the noises that want to come pouring out. âhiroâŚâ
the man in question lifts himself over you slowly, bracing on one arm as the other trails up your side. his lips hover just above yours.
âyeah, sweetheart?â he asks, a thick palm sliding up your soft belly, to grope at your breast, before tipping your chin upwards to him. âwhat do you want?â
you just⌠shake your head. ânothing⌠just want you.â
the simplicity of your words have him sighing.
âyou have me," his gaze locking with yours as he grinds up his clothed core between your legs, his body settling against yours. he brushes up your cheek, thumb grazing your bottom lip. âall of me. you know that, right?â
you nod sweetly, tongue darting out to lave over his thumb. a cloying mhmm leaves your throat.
hiromi is entranced â absolutely spellbound by the sight of your tongue on his thumb and the little sound that leaves your throat in accompaniment.
âso greedy already," he tuts, sucking through his teeth as he presses his thumb gently against the wet muscle. âcanât keep your mouth off of me, even for a second, huh?â
the words are set to be teasing, and a little humiliating but all you do is shake your head, closing your eyes, sucking on his thumb with more force before blinking them back open, your eyes boring into his own, wide and wet.
the sight of you like this: lips parted, eyes wide, sucking gently on his thumb, has him pushing his thumb deeper between your lips.
âyouâre going be the death of me, you know that?â he breathes. âso sweet. so pretty.â
you exhale faintly at his words, your teeth dancing around the digit, refusing to break eye contact for even a second.
hiromi lets out a slow, shaky rumble when your teeth skims his thumb. his eyes darken, jaw tightening as he watches you with barely restrained hunger.
âkeep looking at me like that,â he grunts, sotto voce, "and i won't be able to go slow as i want.â
his hips shift forward instinctively, the clothed, hard length of him pressing against your thigh insistently.
âdo you want me to fuck you now, sweetheart?â
your head bobs up and down wordlessly, your lips still pursed around his thumb that still slides against your tongue, eyelashes fluttering when you feel him hard against you despite the layers of all his clothes.
he groans at your silent answer, but itâs simply not enough.
hiromi pulls his thumb from your mouth slowly, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the corner of your lips. âyouâre going to have to use your words for me, sweetheart,â he insists, âi want to hear you say it.â
much too pent up to retort or feel any shame about your desire for the man in front of you, you steadily oblige, a deep, warm suspiration of air leaving your chest.
âplease fuck me, hiro.â
a guttural, ragged sound rips from his throat at the sound of his name coupled with your words, the wanting in your voice completely unravelling what's left of his control.
he kisses you roughly, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. âsince you said that so politely...â
you smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around him as he utters those words against you, your legs spreading to wrap around his hips.
hiromi kisses you even harder now, his tongue delving in deep, his fingers gripping your bare ass as he pulls you against him.
in haste, his hands begin fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to shed the fabric keeping him from you.
he pulls away, fixing you with darkened gaze as he undoes away his tie, flinging it over the edge of the bed before shrugging out of his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. heâs impatient, almost hurried, like he needed to be inside you yesterday or else he might go insane.
the dark haired men looks like he's barely holding on as he pulls a gold foil wrapper from his trouser pocket, black swallowed pupils watching you tentatively now, waiting to see if youâll say no to him in any way shape or form (and although he would appease to whatever you wanted at the time, heâs convinced he might actually break right now).
youâre the only thing holding his control together, and he needs to know he can touch you right now.
you lean back, watching with longing filled eyes as hiromi strips, till heâs just as bare as you are.
his body is all lean muscle and sharp lines as he spreads his legs, ripping open the foil packet to pull out the latex.
he looks at you again, and the way you're watching him like you want to devour him alive steals whatever teasing words that he had locked and loaded at that moment.
he says your name with a rasp, clear ing his throat. âare you sure?â while rolling the condom down his pulsing length slowly. âlast chance to stop.â
even though they both know there's no going back: not when he's already kneeling between your thighs, and especially not when your legs are already parting for him without his hands intervening.
you blink slowly at him, akin to a sated cat, a saccharine lilt to the sigh that leaves you, giggling breathily.
âi know you mean well, babe, but asking me if iâm sure while you roll a condom over your really hard dickâŚâ and you trail off with a raised brow, opening your arms as you settle further into the sheets.
âjust come over here already.â
he hisses out a laugh at your words, before letting rip a deep, guttural groan as his gaze drops down to the shine between your thighs. he quickly obeys, crawling forward until he's sitting up on his haunches over you.
âso bossy, sweetheart,â he sighs, hands roaming over your legs, and simply put: he cannot get enough of you. âi like it.â
you canât help but quirk up the corner of your lips, your arms wrapping around his back, hands pressed against the planes his shoulders, your legs spreading to wrap around him.
he inhales coarsely as you pull him closer, your legs locking around his waist like a vice now.
hiromi leans down, brushing a soft peck to your lips tenderly, before dragging it to your ear.
âready?â he rustles, the tip of him nudging against your heat, already slick and welcoming.
you give him the okay with a dip of your head, eyes looking up at him wide eyed and full of anticipation. âready.â
a slow, steady exhale leaves him as he lines up, observing the rise and fall of your tensing stomach and fluttering eyes, the hand resting between your bodies guiding him to you.
he doesn't look away even as the thick tip of him breaches past the first ring of muscle, to which the both of you moan synchronously.
hiromi takes one of your hands, threading your fingers with his.
itâs so intimate thatâs itâs almost heart-stopping.
âyou okay?" he asks, every part of him so aware of how vulnerable you look and are right now.
you utter out a delicate, âmhmm,â a docile noise following soon after when you feel the rest of his weighty cock push through your wet cavern.
he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his fingers binding around your hand.
âyou feel so good," he gasps, his voice bumpy with barely tethered restraint.
he then stops for a moment, stilling to let you adjust, not wanting to hurt you.
âyou okay, my love?â he whispers and asks again, scanning your face, to which your thumb brushes over the back of his hand that rests over your head.
âyeah⌠keep going⌠please.â
he leans down to smooch your forehead. âanything you want, sweetheart," he rumbles, his hips pressing forward slowly, sinking into you inch by inch until he's deep inside you, and you're both completely joined, and that feeling youâve both never been able to shake finally makes sense.
harmonious groans leave your lips, your pussy stretching to accommodate his girth, and itâs still a struggle even though youâve been thoroughly prepped.
looking down ever so slightly, your chest rises and falls heavily as you break eye contact to look at where your cunt is wrapped around his cock, folds swallowing up his length and sucking him in further.
the sight of you â glistening and perfect â has hiromi letting out an uncharacteristic moan, loud and brazen.
âjesusââ he hisses, your name coming out wobbly. itâs all too much, yet he can't even look away: but neither can you.
his hips twitch forward on instinct, not pulling out yet âjust pressing deeper into you with a slow roll of his pelvis that makes your breath hitch and your thighs didder around him.
âfeel that?" he croaks hoarsely. âall of me... for you.â
he leans down until his damp lips brush yours.
âlook at me when I'm inside you," he pleads. âplease.â
you tilt your head up, locking your lips with his wetly, eyes up at him. your nails dig softly into the scruff of his neck, and you lift a thigh to sit comfortably around his waist.
the way you look at him has him groaning, so he kisses you again, more thorough this time, pouring everything into it. his hips begin to move â slow at first, a gentle roll that draws a whimper from your throat.
âso sweet," he murmurs against your lips. âso damn sweet.â
hiromiâs hand slips between your bodies to touch where youâre joined, and then heâs stroking two fingers gently over your clit in small circles as his cock slides almost bottomless inside you again.
âfeel good?â
you choke on a gasp, your hand flying down to hold his wrist, keeping it there as you nod.
âfeels so good,â you whine. âmore, hiro.â
he growls low in his throat at the sound of those words, his gaze locking onto your eyes.
âmore?â he asks, breath hot on your lips. âsay please, sweetheart.â
âplease,â you whimper obediently and instantaneous, too wound up to retort with any sarcastic witticisms.
he rewards you with a slow, penetrating thrust, just enough to make your back arch and your breath catch, before pulling almost all the way out.
âlike that?â he soughs, âor do you want it harder?â
he doesn't wait for a response this time.
with a sharp snap of his hips, he drives into you - deep and sudden - and it has you clenching down on him with every push and pull.
you squeal in ecstasy, each drag of his veiny, thick cock against your sensitive walls sending you reeling. you swear you can feel the beat of his heart inside of you as his length fucks into you, fast, wet and noisy.
one of your legs start to slip from his waist from the sheer force of his thrusts, and without breaking his rhythm, he catches it firmly to drape it over his shoulder.
âthere you go, pretty thing,â he chuckles affectionately. âlet me take care of you.â
the new angle makes you gasp as he sinks even deeper - each stroke hitting that sweet spot like he was made to fit right here.
he leans in close, brushing a kiss to the inside of your knee, and then up to your thigh.
hiromiâs hands finds yours again, fingers lacing tight and over your head.
your eyes practically roll back into your skull, and thereâs nowhere to hide as hiromi forces your arms over your head, masking the desire of wanting to see your face wound up in pleasure with an act of romanticism.
âyouâre doing so good for me,â he groans. âso perfect.â
in any other situation, you would make fun of him, teasing him for being such a romantic, but this new position has you speechless, practically sobbing as you feel the head of his cock press so much deeper, heeding the ceiling of your cervix. your eyes begin to water with pleasure, and your fingers tighten around his own, your nails digging into his knuckles.
every whimper and desperate noise that falls from your lips is symphonic, and hiromi cannot get enough.
he needs you closer.
he lets go of your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you up - so you're sitting in his lap, your arms snaking around his neck on instinct, your faces so close, every shaky breath washing over the other's skin.
âthere you go.â
he starts to thrust up into you with a renewed fervour, like he was born to do this - to love you like this. each snap of his hips draws a gasping sob from your throat, and he feeds on it. âthatâs it⌠take all of me.â
you cry into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck tighter as you pull him closer, mouth sloppily slotting over his, all teeth and saliva and tongue â hardly even a kiss at this point, but youâre desperate, wanting to be as close to him as possible.
this new position has him bouncing you up and down his cock, hips thrusting at a pace that starts to get sloppy, and you can tell what that means.
âyou close? iâŚâm close,â you moan, eyes hazy.
hiromi breaks the kiss with a gasp, forehead dropping to yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
âso close,â he groans, voice broken. âyouâre killing me, sweetheart â so tight, so wet, fuck.â
his thrusts grow deeper, more uneven; he can't hold back anymore, so one hand slides between your bodies again to rub tight circles over your swollen clit.
âcome for me," he grunts against your lips. âplease,â and your name comes out half a syllable or two. ââŚlet go.â
heâs barely moving inside you now, with hiromi dragging his cock back nice and slow against that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur with white-hot pleasure.
you grunt a little animalistically when his thumb returns to your overworked love button, your thighs seizing on either side of hiromi, your nails digging into his back, sure to leave red, stinging welts.
âoh god, hiroââ you sob, tongue lolling out of your mouth. âfuck, âmââ and you gasp sharply, choking sweetly as you cum, eyes lulling back, vision turning white as you babble nothings that make sense to nobody, throwing your mouth over his to moan onto his tongue, all the while you creams all over his cock.
watching you hit your peak causes hiromiâs hips to stutter, then still deep inside you as the orgasm rips through him, violent and blinding.
âsh-shitââ he chokes out against your mouth, your name following soon after as his body bows forward, pressing you into the mattress as he empties himself into the condom with a low, shuddering groan.
his breath comes in dilapidated bursts against your skin, sweat-slicked and trembling in your arms. he pants against your cheek, body still shaking, his hand stroking your hair in reverent tenderness.
âthat... was incredible,â he gasps, voice still raspy from how badly he fought for breath. âi donât think iâve ever âfuck â come that hard.â
he presses his lips on your pout, but softly this time, his breath then hot on your neck as he nuzzles his face against it, leaving a kiss right behind your ear. âfeeling okay, sweet thing?â he whispers. âi didn't hurt you, did iâŚ? think i got a little too carried away at the end there.â
you shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he presses wet kisses onto your moist skin.
âno, fuck no,â you contend. âthat was probably the best sex of my life.â
hiromi laughs at that, the sound low and affectionate.
âyeah?â he smirks, pressing another kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. âbest you've ever had, huh?â
he lifts his head to look at you, a cocky little grin settling on his face.
âguess i did a pretty good job, then," he says, clearly pleased with himself.
you hum, and mirror a smile back at him, nosing his damp hair. âit was more than pretty good, hiro.â
he nuzzles into your post-sex affections, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another just below your ear.
âyouâre gonna make me fall in love with you,â he jokes quietly.
then he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes full of warmth, yet dark.
âif i haven't already.â
you raise a brow at him, your lips curled up slightly. âi mean⌠isnât that the goal?â
he chuckles smoothly, shaking his head with a smirk. âyouâre going to get a big head at this rate, sweetheart,âhe teases, wrapping you further into his arms .
âcanât help it when the sexy man in my bed thinks my pussy is that good it could make him fall in love,â you tease.
he groans, half-laughing, half-groaning at your words. âwhat a way with words, my love,â he mutters, pressing his face into your neck, as if to try and hide the way you make him feel.
itâs hapless anyhow, since he can't help the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the affection so plain and simple even in the way he speaks to you.
âbut to answer your previous question⌠yes," he murmurs earnestly, lips still brushing over your skin like a painter and his most prized canvas. âi hope so.â
thereâs a pregnant pause before you hum. â⌠i hope so too.â
however, he lifts his head after, eyes locking with yours - serious now.
âfor the record," he says softly, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "It's not just yourâŚpussy, or how youâd put itââ to which you laugh, and to which he kisses you to shut you up.
ââŚitâs you.â
you break out into a fit of light giggles anyway, holding his face to kiss all over his sharp and curved angles: from his nose to his cheekbones.
âand, for the record,â you mock teasingly, âitâs not just your gorgeous nose or big diââ
hiromi presses a hand over your mouth before you can finish that sentence, face reddening. âyou can't say that,â he protests weakly.
âgod, youâre shameless, woman," he grumbles, shaking his head at you.
you snort into his hand, all the while you ever so accidentally clench around hiromiâs softening penis thatâs still inside of you.
you wiggle your brows up at him, amused when he jerks at the sudden clench (half-limp, half-alive, itâs hard to tell) and lets out a strangled groan.
âyou're evil,â he hisses, eyes squeezing shut as if to hold back the feeling. âabsolute nightmare.â
but his pelvis still twitches forward on instinct â he truly can't help it â his cock stirring again inside you with a slow, traitorous throb.
he glares down at you through heavy lashes. "donât do that again.â his voice cracks halfway through.
âyou say that but i can feel you getting hard all over again, baby,â and you whisper the last part like itâs shameful.
you pullshim down by his neck to kiss against the husk of his ear. âwhatâs the consensus on a round two? iâm thinking that we take a little break before we resume activities.â
he shudders as your words almost drown him from the outright viscosity, his body already responding at the mere suggestion.
âa break... sounds good,â he mumbles against your skin, planting a kiss between your shoulder and neck once more. âiâll go get something to clean up."
hiromi pulls back, slipping out of you, making you hiss at the removal, stretching your back with a groan as you then wander around the bedroom, throwing on an oversized hoodie and some panties.
when hiro returns from the bathroom, you grin at him, passing him some folded items. âhere. i, uh, have some spare menâs clothes,â to which hiromi raises a brow and you gasp in exaggerated offence, shoving his shoulder playfully, âdonât give me that lookâ! i like the way menâs stuff fits sometimesâŚâ and you drop the articles into his hand. âconsider this impromptu sleepover the prequel to so many better, more prepared ones in our future.â
hiromi watches you, dazed and perhaps still a little drunk on you, but he manages to laugh at the defensive grin on your face. he takes the clothes, unfolding them and glancing between them and you.
âand youâre sure you want me to stay the night?" he asks, as if you won't actually want him to.
you can only roll your eyes, deadpanning.
âbaby. i am 100% sure⌠i wouldâve liked to have gotten this crossed off of our list sooner butâŚâ you shrug with some diffidence. ânext time it can be your place⌠if you want.â
heâs already tugging on the soft cotton shirt as you speak. âof course i want you at my place,â he says. âanytime. any night. every night, if we can.â
he cups your face gently, his thumb brushes over your cheek. âif that's what you want too.â
you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him down for multiple wet smooches. âof course itâs what i want, silly.â
he kisses you back at your pace: romantic and thorough, then teasing and humorously.
âgood,â he murmurs against your lips. âreally good.â
he envelops his arms around you, pulling you flush against him despite the layers now between your bodies.
âthen iâll hold you to it.â
ŕż ! â all rights reserved Š MOOMINSUKI 2026. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.
synopsis. it's your three year anniversary with the love of your life. he surprises you with flowers, gifts, and...something else. (4.5k)
contents. explicit sexual content, age-gap (i imagined a yuuji in his early-mid 50s and a reader in her early 20s), use of 'kid' literally once, kinda brat!reader if you squint, oral sex (fem!receiving only bc i'm on my eater yuuji agenda + i hate writing bj scenes), vaginal penetration, creampie, allusions to pregnancy + mentions of starting a family, litch no real plot, probably ooc (sue me)
note â.đ Ě . . . saw the modulo leaks and had to catch up with jjk expeditiously, so take whatever this is because i needed to get it out of my system :p @itadoreyu
youth takes the incorporeal form of a baby's first cry. it takes the form of soft-skin and starry-eyes. innocent laughter and mischief. youth is resilience.
you are resilient. you are new skin and fresh-faced. the picture of naivety. he's scarred flesh and old bones. torn muscle and sinewy tissue. hardened and seasoned in the way one is after having fought in battles far too soon â far too young. but he supposes he likes that about you, how your very existence both challenges his own, yet is a sobering reminder of the years stolen from him.
yuuji itadori is tired â no, that's an understatement. yuuji itadori is exhausted. not just from being the strongest sorcerer, but from the nauseating monotony that has been his life for the past three or so decades. he should count himself lucky since defeating sukuna, he thinks. afterall, so many of his friends didn't get to make it to adulthood. but he's not so sure he's actually living, not really, anyway. not in a way that counts.
sure, he's breathing, and sure, his heart's beating â but reanimated corpses aren't alive. he's scarred flesh, and broken bones, and torn muscle, and reattached limbs. not a human, but a thing in the form of a man. and the funny thing about his condition, is that he will have to endure this, not living, for years, and years to come. until bone becomes ash, and his name is a whisper in the wind.
over time, he had grown to accept his fate â this life of solitude. but then he met you. and suddenly, the world got a little less lonelier. life was no longer the monotonous drag that it used to be, but something that he started to see as precious. every new day spent with you was unpredictable, exciting, and electric. and he hadn't felt like that in a long, long time. he decided then, that this was something he wanted to live for â that you were something he wanted to live for.
today is your three year anniversary. three years of knowing you, loving you, living for you. when he woke up this morning, you were still sound asleep, cuddled into his side, lips upturned in a soft smile, as if you were dreaming about something sweet. he likes waking up before you because he gets to witness you in your most relaxed state. makes his chest feel all tight, and his stomach flutter like a teenage boy. usually, he'd watch you sleep and wait for you to wake up, but he wanted to surprise you this morning.
which is why he's now in line at the nearest market, with flowers in one hand, a corny card, and a basket of all your favorite snacks. just something for you to wake up to, since the plans he made weren't until much later in the day.
"cash or card?" asks the cashier.
"uh, card andâ" yuuji starts, scanning the wall behind the counter, "a pack of those right there." he points to a pack of seven stars. the cashier scans it through and throws it in the bag along with the other items.
"that'll be 5000 yen." yuuji reaches for his wallet, pulling out his card. he waits for the pinpad to light up and then he swipes it. the cashier offers him a receipt but he declines.
he leaves the store with the flowers and bag in tow, and starts heading over to the train station. on his way there, he passes a few stores he thinks you might like. a few bakeries, a cafe, and a lingerie shop (he's definitely taking you there).
as he nears closer to the station, he passes a jewelry store, and sees a necklace in the window that catches his eye almost immediately. it's so you, he thinks. intrigued, he walks inside and an employee greets him with a 'welcome in'. he smiles politely before walking up to them.
"the necklace in the window..." he starts, then gestures for the employee to follow him, "can i see, uh, this one over here?" she nods, then pulls it from the case. almost immediately, she puts on her sale voice, and begins robotically listing all the details of the necklace: its composition, how much it costs, and where it was sourced from.
somewhere in there he zoned out, uninterested in the details. he wants it. "i'll take it," he interrupts her. the lady smiles, satisfied with her sales pitch probably, and ushers him to the counter. as he's swiping, she places the necklace into a little box, then packs it away into an unnecessarily large bag.
"for your wife?" the associate asks with a curious smile.
"for my girlfriend, actually. but one day she will be," he responds in earnest.
"well, i wish you two the best. i hope she loves it."
as he makes his way up to your shared apartment, he's expecting you to still be in bed, fast asleep with drool on your pillow. he's realized that one of the few things he's adopted over the years is waking up early. you like to tease him and say it's because he's getting older, but really, you're just not a morning person (despite his efforts to make you one).
when he opens the door, however, what he doesn't expect is for you to already be behind the door, just standing there like you were anticipating his arrival. he's barely just stepped inside before you're already padding over to him like a puppy, gearing up to wrap your arms around his sturdy frame.
with caution, he sets the flowers and bags down on the entryway table so that he can commit to a full embrace.
"welcome home, old man," you tease, head tilted up to meet his gaze, chin resting on his chest. you turn your cheek against him and inhale his scent. his jacket is damp with rainwater, you note, and he smells like smoke but there's still faint traces of the fresh linen detergent you washed it with yesterday. "you're wet."
he smiles softly, thumbs rubbing absentmindedly on the small of your back. "yeah, it rained a bit on the way back."
"you smell like cigarettes," you say, matter-of-factly. it's one of the few habits of his you've tried getting rid of. since you, he's smoked less than he used to, but every now and then he'll indulge.
"i know, i'll stop, baby."
it doesn't sound convincing, but you hum in response anyway, cheek still glued to his chest, just breathing him in. pulling back, you reach your arms up and slide the hood of his jacket down, revealing the messy bed hair that he didn't bother brushing this morning. your hands settle on the sides of his face, fingers gliding across skin where smooth meets stubble.
you've always believed him to be beautiful, but when he's up close like this, it stuns you how little he's aged despite how much he's been through. but you see his age in his smile, and in the crows feet that kiss his eyes, and in the greys on the side of his head scattered like stardust. he's so beautiful and it makes you inexplicably sick with adoration.
"happy anniversary," you whisper, just for him. just for you. fingers still caressing his face.
"happy anniversary, my love." the smile he gives you is warm, syrupy sweet, and so full of love that you can hardly stand it.
in your love-sick stupor, you pull him in for a kiss, encircling your arms around his neck to bring him down to your level. the arms that are wrapped around your middle find solace on the sides of your head, and you both find yourselves melting into each other, breaths heavy and sharp the longer you kiss without parting for air. you've been insatiable all day, and you've grown tired of waiting.
"missed you," you sigh into his mouth, still kissing, "so much."
yuuji smiles, a tease on the tip of his tongue. "you always miss me."
"don't be mean," you nip at his lip, pulling back slightly to see his face. he's looking down at you with a stupid grin, and you roll your eyes.
"only teasing, baby," he laughs, then dips his head down to the interstice of your neck. he kisses there once, twice, then works his way up to your ear, "how much did my sweet girl miss me?"
reaching up, you grab his hand and pull it down between the space where your bodies are melded. you guide him past your sleep shorts and panties, ushering his hand to where you ache for him most. the tips of his fingers are cool on contact, and the both of you shudder, though for different reasons.
slowly, you retract your hand, rest your forehead against his. "see?" a kiss, "told you," another.
"shit," he breathes, dropping his head to your shoulder, "you're unbelievable."
he slides one finger over your entrance as he says it, not pushing in, but keeping it settled there, letting his fingers coat with your slick. you giggle softly, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a kiss again, only this time it's deeper. messier. all staggered breaths, and heavy petting. spit-shined lips, and glossy eyes.
he withdraws his hands from your panties and picks you up, lays you down on the kitchen counter, and strips you down until your bottom half is bare before him. you take hold of his chin with a firm hand, guiding him to your face. your lips brush ever so softly, not connecting just yet, but hovering, intermingling breaths. he attempts to connect them but you retract your chin, smiling deviously before licking a stripe up his bottom lip and biting it.
"knees. get on your knees," you say, not asking, but demanding.
"not even a 'please'?" he queries, feigning offense. "you kids are so impatient these days, don't even use your manners anymore." there's amusement etched into his smirk, and he leans in for a quick kiss before making the descent down your body, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. when he's finally level with your core, he exhales a breath through his nose, and your stomach flexes instinctively.
his hands move to wrap around your thighs, and he abruptly pulls you closer to the edge of the counter, adjusting you so that your legs dangle over his shoulders. when he's got you in a preferable position, he darts his tongue out slowly. the first swipe over you isn't methodical. it's slow, and indulgent. he's tasting you, your morning, how long you've been in this state and waiting for him to come and fix it. the second swipe is an apology. it's zephyr-light kisses, and sweet nothings. the third swipe is purposeful, done with the intention of drawing a moan from your pretty little lips (and of course he's successful).
there's only two things in this world that he prides himself in: one being his ability to protect you, and two, being his ability to make you come with just his mouth and fingers. he knows your body like the back of his hand. knows all the spots that make you shiver and tremble, and knows exactly where to press, lick, and suck to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull. like when he uses his middle and ring finger to press up into that spongy spot against your mons, rubbing it back and forth in hurried motions while his mouth laps lazily around your clit.
he alternates between licking and sucking, pulling away every so often to drop goblets of spit, using his fingers to spread it around before pushing them back into you with brutal precision. the room is filled with the obscene schlik and schlop sounds of your wetness, accompanied by the occasional profanities that escape your lips, and his muffled mumblings.
"tastes so good, baby," he groans, eyes flitting up to yours, mouth and fingers still working you open, "soâfuckâwet for me." he dips back down, kisses every inch of skin around your folds that his tongue has touched, making sure that his eyes hold your gaze as he does so.
"this all for me, right?" a kiss, "tell me. wanna hear it?"
you nod rapidly, opting out of a verbal response because you know anything you say will come out warbled and incoherent. immediately, yuuji pulls away just enough to bite your inner thigh. not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to force a small squeal from you. an admonishment.
"y-yes," you all but cry, lifting your hips up in an attempt to get him to resume his ministrations, "all for you. only you." utterly pleased, he smiles cheekily before dipping back down to where you're dripping, reveling in the satisfaction of knowing that this is all for him. that your body is his, and his alone. because he's already decided long ago that you are the only thing in this world he's ever wanted for himself.
slowly, he pulls his fingers from your core, pushing them all the way to the hilt before you even get a chance to register their absence. he continues this motion intermittently until he settles on a rhythm, adding in a third finger when he decides he's worked you open enough. every poke and prod is merciless. the stretch of his fingers has you lifting your hips up off the counter from the pleasure building in the pit of your stomachâyou're close. practically teetering on the precipice of your own undoing, and god, he's relentless.
his pace has graduated from steady and deliberate, to erratic and sloppy. all you can hear is your heavy panting, followed by a succession of various wet sounds from your pussy as his fingers continue their brutal assault inside your walls. he knows you're close, can tell by the way your eyes get all glossy, and the way you start fluttering around him like crazy.
briefly, he detaches his mouth from you, though his fingers keep their violent pace. "come on, sweet girl," his voice is zephyr-light, so soft it might as well have been a kiss, "i've got you. come for me."
his words are always the final blow to tip you right over the edge. your orgasm comes fast, and hard, rips through you like a current. violent and unforgiving. a guttural, debauched moan tears through your throat, and your back arches off of the counter, thighs tightening around his head. yuuji has yet to stop his ministrations on your cunt, his fingers continue to work you open, despite your attempts to pull his hand away.
"t-too much," you whine, trying to push him off. he simply swats you away, and when you try to clamp your thighs around him again, he uses his free hand to hold you down by the thigh. eventually, he settles on using his mouth instead and pushes both thighs to your chest, giving him better access to lick you from clit to taint.
it's so wet, so sloppy, and the sounds leaving his lips as he makes work of your poor pussy has you beyond light-headed. you think you'd be okay if you died right here, with his head between your thighs, and your slick smeared all over his pink, spit-shined lips. it drives you crazy. that and the way he's looking at you, eyes focused and half-lidded. with his hands roaming over the plains and pastures of your body, pawing and kneading at the fat of your breasts. caressing you like you're something of reverence. you could come alone from how much you adore him.
your second orgasm creeps up on you similarly to your first one. unceremonious and sharp. you lurch forward from the stimulation, clutching his head between your hands, keeping him still and close to your body. he gives you a final kiss on your clit before he pulls away, and you twitch instinctively from the action. for a few seconds, the both of you stay in this position, just breathing. letting your erratic heartbeats fill the silence of the room.
slowly, he rises from his haunches until he's towering over you, hands settled on either side of you supporting his weight. your eyes flit to his own, then to his lipsâwhich are still shiny with your arousalâbefore you pull him into a searing kiss, and this one's desperate. almost animalistic in nature, spurred on from the taste of you on his tongue. you smile into the kiss, pulling back just barely to speak, forehead slick and pressed to his.
"move me to the couch," you whisper against his lips, "wanna feel you inside of me."
without protest, he wraps your legs around his waist and begins walking you back to the couch, and you giggle as he almost trips over the leg of a chair. carefully, he lays you down against the couch, and watches with hungry eyes as you make a show of removing your sleep shirt. now you're fully bare before him. suddenly, you find yourself annoyed with how little you're wearing, and how much he's still wearing. sitting back on your elbows, you playfully poke his clothed chest with your foot, tilting your head while sliding it down to his bulge.
you can feel the heat of him through his sweats. he's hard, painfully so, and it pulses with every rub of your foot against him. his breath hitches at the contact. you could probably rub him to completion just with your foot, you definitely could, but he stops your movements anyway. grabs your leg and kisses your ankle before setting it down.
"off," you say, head gesturing towards his shirt. he flashes a cheeky grin, pointing to it and saying "what, this?", like your patience isn't already running thin. like you're not vehemently desperate to have him in you. rolling your eyes, you nod again, acquiescing to his little charade. indulging you, he begins to pull the fabric over his head, revealing tanned, toned skin, inch by glorious inch.
the shirt drops haphazardly to the floor with a small thud, and you find your eyes immediately scanning his body. his chest and stomach are littered in milky-grey scarsâsave for the few new ones in the beginning stages of healing. underneath all of it, though, he's tan, and lean, and chiseled to perfection. iron-forged. the kind of tough exterior you'd expect from a man of his caliber. he's a god's wish come trueâstrong, and beautiful, and divine in his own right (despite his personal reservations). you're perpetually in awe of him.
"beautiful," it comes out as a whisper. you're not even aware you've said it until he starts going all red from the admission. and fuck, even the way his redness travels from his chest up to his cheeks is enough to send you to an early grave. amused, and overwhelmingly aware of the effect you have on him, you continue. your eyes stare into his, the sepia of his irises catching light in the dim of the room, and you force him to hold eye contact.
without verbalizing it, your eyes gesture to his lower half, then flicker back up to his face. in anticipation, you watch with bated breath, bringing a finger up between your teeth. equal parts pleasurably amused and turned on. as his hands begin tugging at his waistband, his eyes never leave yours. he makes quick work of pulling them down, along with his briefs, stepping out of the fabric and kicking them aside somewhere to be forgotten.
sitting up, you extend a hand to wrap around his shaft. he's leaking, hot and heavy in your palm, and so sensitive that he shivers from the contact. you shift closer, licking a long stripe up the underside of him before planting a soft kiss on his tip. when you pull back, he hastily situates himself between your thighs. pushes your thighs back to your head and strokes himself once, twice, then pushes the head of him into your cunt, until his pelvic bone is flush with your own. the initial intrusion burns, and you find your thighs locking around his waist to keep him from rocking.
in his own attempt to stay still, he drops his forehead to yours, and busies himself with kissing you. it's faint but he can taste himself on your lips, though, the taste of your own arousal overpowers his. you open your mouth wider, let his tongue explore every crevice, while yours moves in perfect tandem. when the sting subsides, you give an experimental roll of your hips against him, and he shudders, panting open-mouthed against your lips.
oh, is all you can manage to say, followed by his fuck. the next time it's him rolling his hips. slowly, he unsheathes himself from your cunt, all the way until only the tip of him remains, and then pushes all the way back in. each drag, each push, harder and more precise than the last. his head buries itself in the interstice of your neck, lips kissing and licking down the salty column of your throat, until they reach the tops of your plush breasts.
languidly, his tongue laps the skin around your nipple before latching onto it. he pulls the pert bud between his teeth, teasing and biting, while his free hand thumbs the other. all the while, his cock continues to thrust in and out of you at a slow pace. you throw your head back against the armrest of the couch, letting your mind slip further and further into a state of ecstasy. every pore on your body feels like it's being lit aflame, every sensation heightened. you can feel your body dissolving into the couch. the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment is the gentle thump of your head against the armrest.
"f-fuck," yuuji breathes, voice strained, "so good for me, always so good for me." your eyes screw tight, and you bring a hand to rest atop his head, letting your fingers sift through the pink locks. you try to focus on his breathing, the way his hips piston against yours, and the feeling of his hot mouth on your breasts. once again, you feel that familiar feeling you know all too well building up in the pit of your abdomen. it lulls you to the tides like a siren, calling and beckoning you, as your body nears closer and closer to becoming seafoam. stretched out and dispersed into something light.
"i'm gonna cum," you all but cry, arms wrapping around him tighter, nails digging into flesh. yuuji sits back on his haunches, maneuvers you to where you're sitting on his lap. in this position, you can feel the head of him just barely kissing your cervix. he gives you no time to adjust, and immediately begins moving you up and down on his length.
"then do it, baby," a kiss, "give me one more," another, "you can do it, know you can." one hand holds your back firmly while the other snakes itself between your sweaty bodies. he rubs your clit in fast circles, halting his thrusting to let you grind down against him. his deft fingers move in synchrony with his tongue, which lightly traces the pulse point in your neck that seems to jump with every flick over it. the knot twisting in your stomach nears closer and closer to snapping.
you wrap around him tighter, preparing yourself for another orgasm. yuuji issues the final blow with a hard thrust up, and you bury yourself into his neck, muffling the intensity of your moan with a bite.
"yuuji!" you squeal, walls fluttering around him. now that you've come, he won't be that far behind. feeling you tighten around his cock is usually enough to get him there. and right now he knows he's close. out of habit, he attempts to pull out of you, but you clamp down on him harder, locking your legs tighter around his waist so that he can't move.
"fuck, if you do that i won't be able to pull out," he whimpers, lips pulled between his teeth.
you pull your face from his neck and look him in the eyes, "don't," you say, panting. "do it inside, it's okay."
yuuji's brain short-circuits. the implication of it makes his dick twitch inside of you. he's not sure if you're serious, so he asks to make sure.
"you sure?" he asks, still thrusting up. "as in..."
"yes," you say, shaking your head so hard it might fall off. "i think we're ready. i want this."
and that's all he needs to hear before he's pumping into you with reckless abandon, mumbling desperate i love you's into your neck, and capturing your lips into a searing kiss. he kisses you like he can't believe you're giving him the honor of fatherhood, like he's worthy enough of becoming such a thing. you kiss him back as if to say of course you are, and you hope he understands it. you hope he can feel it in the way you clench around him, in the way you whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he finishes inside you, and in the way you kiss all over his face like he's something worth being gentle with.
because in this moment he's never felt more vulnerable.
when your chests still, and your breathing evens, he realizes what he's done. he scans your face in search of regret, thinking he'd be met with a worried brow, or a solemn frown because he got too carried away during the heat of itâbut he sees nothing of the sort. instead, he's met with a soft smile and relaxed eyes.
"i wasn't just saying things in the heat of the moment," you reassure, putting your forehead to his. "i love you, and you deserve this â you are deserving of this," you correct.
you pull away to look at him. his eyes are welling with tears, and his lips are down-turned into a pout. his gaze drops from yours and you immediately force his chin back up so that he's looking at you.
"whatever self-deprecating thoughts you're thinking, forget it," you scold. a single, crystalline tear cascades down his cheek. you wipe it away with your thumb, kiss the skin right below his eye.
"kids were an afterthought before i met you. but now i find myself imagining what you would've looked like as a baby, and how i wish i could've protected you from everything you had to endure," you say, taking a breath, "and now i realize you're my favorite face, and i've fallen ridiculously in love with the idea of raising two or three little ones who look just like you."
yuuji nuzzles into the warmth of your hand, and he opens his mouth to speak. "two or three, huh?" he says, eyes still wet with tears but finding the space to joke. you roll your eyes, letting a giggle slip past your lips as you pinch his side.
"well, let's just see how well you do with one, old man," you tease, poking his chest. you inch your face closer to his until the tips of your noses are brushing. you pretend to go in for a kiss, parting your lips before pulling back with a sly smirk.
"deal?"
"deal."
Š all rights reserved arachine 2025. do not repost, modify, plagiarize, or recommend my work outside of tumblr.
đľđŞđŞđŚđźđ¸.á â¤ď¸ ft. hakari kinji!
đđŞđŠđŻđđźđŠđŽ â¨ž ( 800+ words of . . . ) crazy-stupid back shots with this sexy ass brickhouse of a man ⨞ nsfw/smut, hakari kinji x fem!reader ( black coded ), set in modern-day japan ( nov. 2018 ), established relationship, size kink, praise, doggy, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, daddy, papa, etc. ), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
đđ´ đżđŞđąđ¸ đżđ¸đŻđŻđ¸â.á ⸝ this man is so fucking beefy 'n sexy that i replayed his every scene in s3 ooh gawd! kinji looks like he has life changing dick . likeee i wholeheartedly believe he could fuck you into next week ( i volunteer!!! ) i think big blonde himbos will always have an effect on me >.< i'm trying to get used to writing for jjk, so please enjoy! and thank you so much for reading â¤ď¸
đźđŠđŽđđŞ đđ đđđŚ â¨ž thirsty, by PND
âshiiittt!âÂ
you think the room is shaking. or, maybe itâs just you. trembling, quaking, tears slipping free as youâre picked apart beneath the pure, unbridled force that is hakari. heâs curling over you, pressing down against you, pounding right into you. every relentless motion sinks his cock deeper and has you embedded further into the mattress. the sheer weight of him, the smoldering heat of him, the erotic rhythm that just wonât fucking let upâ it's all too much. far too much, and yet you canât bring yourself to want it to stop.Â
hakari fucks you so good that you feel like heâs lit you on fire. kinji has always burned hot. the same wild instinct that built his gambling empire now pours into the way he manhandles youâ hand in your hair, curls spilling over his tightened knuckles, guiding, molding, coaxing your body into a rhythm that feels dangerously perfect for the both of you.Â
âmmm, this pussyâs so fuckinâ greedy, baby . . . suckinâ me in like that,â he growls, and the drawled rasp mixes with the damp skin-slapping thatâs already permeated the atmosphere. your pussy, leaking and sloppy, clenches at the rawness of the sound. he only laughs and drives forward harder, punctuating his amped pace with a sharp slap to the globe of your ass, stinging the right side. two more rain down on the other cheek, and one falls harsh upon your creased hip. a fresh tinge of fleshy-red blooms over warm cocoa skin, and he brings his heavy palm to soothe it over, fix his own doing; kneading and rubbing the fat of your ass like heâs working in an oily balm. Â
hakari shifts his balance, moving from stabilizing on both knees to brace himself on one meaty-thick thigh, the sole of his foot planting firmly behind you for leverage. one hand drags slowly down the curve of your back, so warm it almost feels like it burns in its wake. his palm presses down, insistent, urging your spine to arch deeper, to jut that perfect ass out for him. the adjusted angle changes everythingâ with renewed force, he thrusts back in hard, hitting the rightest spot with the new hitch in positioning. a shock of pleasure jolts straight through you.Â
âkâkinjiii! f-fuck, daddyyy,â your ass ripples beautifully, slamming back on him with reckless abandon, pussy streaking juices all over the firm plane of his defined hips. his pelvis, dusted with coarse dark hair, glistens with the slick evidence of how thoroughly heâs worked you over. the mess only seems to spur him on. large, calloused hands close around the small of your waist, firm and unyielding, dragging you back and forth over his cock.
âfuck! yâr tight as shit, baby . . youâre close, aren't ya?â you nod helplessly, blubbering into the sheets, only now noticing the thin line of drool thatâs slipped from the corner of your mouth to pool beneath your cheek. hakari dips lower, delivering slow, deliberate strokes that have your voice breaking on his name.Â
âcâmon mama, let go faâme,â he croons, hips pistoning in and out of you with the steadiest, most wrecking pace. he pairs it with thick fingers curling around your throat, gentle but firm. a pressured squeeze to your carotid artery has your sopping cunt fluttering rapidly around the girthy stretch of him. you wheeze softly at the intentional force of it, fractured little â papa, papaâs spilling from your lips.
âyes, yes, yessss . . k-kinji, make me cum, pleaseâ oh!â he inches low to deliver thorough swipes to your clit. a wide grin spreads across his faceâ all teeth and unrestrained satisfactionâ when you finally shatter beneath him, your body spasming as white-hot pleasure crashes through you, spotting your vision and leaving you limp.
he doesnât slow, hips steadily rocking against your ass as he works you through it. the way you fall apart around his pulsing dick finally snaps the last thread of restraint he had left, and with a low groan he pulls you tighter against him, grinding sloppily against you while burying his face into your shoulder.
âlemme feel you nut all over this fuckinâ dickâ yeahhh, cum with me. so good, mama,â he revels in you unraveling beneath him, just as heâs sent tipping over the edge himself. a rough groan tears from the depths of his throat as he clutches your hips and rides out his own release. you feel it; kinji spurting thick loads of sperm to coat your quivering walls. you weakly hum at the warmth of it.
the room settles into quiet, the last tremors fading as the two of you finally catch your breath. hakariâs arm stays loosely draped around your waist, warm and heavy, like he has no plans of moving anytime soon. he lets out a satisfied huff against your shoulder.
âdamn . . . guess iâm on a winning streak tonight.â
Š đŤđźđđžâłđźđ đđť.á ⸝ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. reblogs are highly appreciated! please and thank you! â¤ď¸
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Any drabble about Ryuji Godaaaaaaa he's so underrated it hurts
đŽđđđ đšđđđ¸! â¤ď¸ ft. ryuji goda!
đŽđđŠđŞđŤđŽđźđŽ â¨ž you run into a tall blonde jerk at the pawn shop. | AKA, i wanna ride his sideburns, AKA, Iâd let him (redacted) me with his katana until I (redacted)
đđŞđŠđŻđđźđŠđŽ â¸ť ( 3k+ words of . . . ) ⨞ nsfw/smut, ryuji goda x fem!reader ( black coded ), yakuza-verse ( kiwami 2; set in december 2006), ryujiâs a loud snarky asshole (canon lol), size kink, pussy-grabbing, dry humping, unprotected sex, dom!ryuji, degradation, praise, explicit language, minors shoo!
đđŚ đđđŁđ đđđĄđĄđđ! â¤ď¸ oooh nonnie what an interesting ask! this truly awakened something in me, ryu hasnât been on the noggin for a while! not since i finished kiwami 2 for the third time some years ago, but this is bringing me back mmm . . i am enticed by that evil man yet again >.< i think now is a good time to post the 5-year old drabble of him that iâve meant to finish since forever now lol! since this is an older work of mine, the writing style might be a bit different than what youâre used to seeing from me! but of course, iâve tweaked a few things to spruce it up :3 please enjoy, and thank you for dropping by! â¤ď¸
All the good stuff from Le Marche gets sold out here at Ebisu Pawn. You lay your eyes upon a necklace; European style, with diamonds encrusted and plated into the priceless silver. Itâs designer. It may not be the most necessary purchase, but youâve yearned for the damn thing for months. You could treat yourself just this once, since Christmas is just around the corner.Â
You reach out to it, manicured nails rhythmically tapping along the glass case. Before you can call out to the store clerk in hopes of buying the expensive piece, another hand lays flat upon the jewelryâs transparent casing. They splay their palm across it as though they already own it.
The imposing hand doubles yours in sizeâ rough, callous and ready to grab at the very thing you wanted for yourself. Your eyes trail up to the person beside you, and God, is he big. Heâs tall, broad, and strangely handsome in his own intimidating way. The snarl-like expression etched upon his face looks permanent.Â
âIâll take it.â he rumbles out to the cashier. deep words spill past his scarred lips; it almost pulls a shiver out of you. youâd find him incredibly alluring if he wasnât about to buy the necklace of your dreams.
You build up the courage to speak out for it. You want it. You need it. Youâll go against this intriguing stranger if you have to.Â
âYouâll have to find something else.â you manage out, arms crossed over the fur-lining of your cinched coat. He finally turns your way, as if he hadnât even bothered to register your presence before now. âOh?â He tilts his head left in disbelief. âWill you, now?â He asks. Itâs less of a question, more of a threat. A thick Kansai accent is laced within his low voice.Â
âYeah, I will. I was here first.â
âOh, princess,â he releases a mean, incredulous snicker. Your face scrunches up over the title, and it almost feels like he lives for your look of irritation. âThat doesnât fuckinâ matter.â he dips a hand into the deep pocket of his tan colored coat, slipping out a thick band of cash and propping it on the case. The colorful stack of yen taunts you. âSee that? Sâmine now.â
He watches intently, as he always does; on how your facade glitches for the briefest moment, the anxious lift of your brow at the realization that heâs actually capable of taking it away from you.Â
One thing about Ryuji is that heâs a real fucking jerk.Â
But sometimes, on rare occasions, maybe holidays, he's not that mean. he can tell that, for whatever fucking reason, you really want it. he begins to assume it holds some sort of sentimental value to you; mightâve been a sold family heirloom or some shit, he thinks. And despite being the big mighty scumbag he is, who is he to deny a girl's desire? Fuck, maybe the holiday spirit has washed over him.Â
In all truth, the blonde hadnât been planning on wearing it. The make of the piece is obviously feminine. He just wanted something eye-catching to add to his collection of fine jewelry. He pries the case open, holds it in careful hands, and drapes it over your neck. The necklace simply dazzles against your warm skin. In that moment, he decides it looks much better on you than it would in a glass container.
âOh, you pretty thing,â his lips curl upwards into a ghastly smirk. If you didnât know any better, youâd think he was trying to sex you up. The last thing you want to admit is that itâs working.
âIâll pay.â He nods at the clerk. you look to him with wide eyes. âwhat? no, youâ you donât have to do that-â
âI already have.â itâs paid in full for all itâs worth, over 700k yen, neatly packaged, and placed in your hands. you look down at your new âgiftâ with settling shock. how could some asshole with a nasty attitude end up being your secret santa? when you look back up, he only smiles; all smarmy and arrogant with torn skin cutting over it.Â
âShow some gratitude, yeah?â He flashes an egotistical smile. You huff. âI never asked you toââ
âThink of it as a gift from me to you. Merry Christmas.â And with that, heâs off. The door faintly jingles as he makes his leave. Youâre left walking home frazzled, chilled by the light drop of snow, pondering your interaction with . . . mister 'scarface'.
The way he was able to blow all that fucking money and act like it was nothing? And if it did leave a dent in his wallet, his demeanor wouldâve left you none the wiser. It isnât far off to assume that heâs a yakuza; thatâs got to be the only explanation. Was there a pin on his collar? What did it say? You canât bring yourself to remember. Something tells you that this interaction wasn't a one-off. Or maybe, for some unbelievable reason, you hope to see him again.
â
The next time you cross paths with 'scarface' is at Cabaret Grand. You never caught his name, but you know itâs himâ in all his exuberance, heâs rather hard to miss. Man of the hour, he is; making a scene and buying up all the pricey wine. Girls flock him on either side, and his goons sit opposite of him. Ruckus and antics emit from their booth.
You came for a good time, to take the load off after a busy week. Your new necklace and skimpy little dress sparkles under the vibrant flash of disco lights, and the shimmery gold just so happens to match the color of his expensive, tailored suit. Itâs mid sip that his eyes lock with yours; while heâs nursing his cup of whiskey and your hips sway to the beat of an eighties city-pop song. Like a moth drawn to flame, the golden fabric that swathes your body is exactly what catches his attention. You, solely, purely youâ pawn girl. Or at least, thatâs where he met you.Â
He discards all that occupied him before to make his way to you; brushing off all the busty women thatâd been rubbing all over him, and ignoring the drunk wailing of his flushed subordinates. His eyes are sharp like a tigerâs, zoned in on you from halfway across the club until the space grows slimmer. Youâre unsure whether to break eye contact or saunter away, but he reaches you far before you manage to decide.Â
âIf it ainât you, sweetheart.â His arm circles your waist. Surprisingly, you donât hate it. You wish you could blame it on being tipsy. âThat piece fits you nicely,â His eyes flit to your collarbone, then give your tits a shameless glance. You feel your body run hot under his gaze.Â
âMakes me feel good that I let you have it.â
âYou give yourself too much credit.â is your scoffed reply. He finds your eye-roll to be cute rather than menacing.Â
âI paid for it, didnât I?â you almost want to laugh in his face, but the way his warm palm presses against the dip in your back soothes you.
âYou insisted on it. I couldâve bought it for myself.âÂ
âHm. Right,â He only partially listens to you. Most of his attention is fixed on your bodyâ so terribly, terribly shameless of him. He hungrily eyes the curvature of your hips and your supple cleavage. You practically shiver at the way he stares you down.
You cross your arms, glaring at him. He enjoys the way it makes your boobs press up over the dressâs neckline.Â
âYou think every woman wants you?â
âNo.â His answer is immediate. Then his mouth tilts into that stupid fucking smug half-smile again. âBut you do.â
You laugh aloud, and he watches with intrigue. âKeep dreaming, blondie."Â
âDonât worry,â he murmurs low, for your ears only, âI like a challenge.â Ryuji takes another slow sip, watching how you watch him. He knows you want it. He likes when ladies play hard to get; they rarely ever do with him anymore. Itâs too easy to take, but he wants to earn it. He knows that youâll make him. Hell, heâs growing a hard-on already; all from the cold way you look at him. He wants to fuck that snobbish attitude right out of you.Â
âWanna get away?â he offers. Thereâs a glint in his deep brown eyes, like he knows you wonât refuse. âI could book us the best room in all of Sotenbori. Youâve never seen the likes of it,â he grins.
Heâs appealing to you, in his own strange little way. The manâs ruggedly handsome, ambitious and clearly rich. You could use a bit of fun tonight, anyhow. And so, you relent. But not before asking:Â
âWhatâs your name, anyway?âÂ
You see the way his mouth flits up comically, like heâs biting back a raucous chuckle. âYou seriously donât know?â Is his incredulous scoff. Most people know of him whether they want to or not. You probably arenât from the area, he thinks.Â
âPlease enlighten me, hotshot.âÂ
âOh-ho, youâre spunky,â his shoulders shake with the bass of his laughter, and you find yourself fighting a smile.Â
âGoda Ryuji,â he leans in as he reveals himself to you, dipping low to speak into the shell of your ear. âGo-Ryuâs patriarch.â You knew it. But for whatever reason, him being affiliated in such a dubious lifestyle doesnât scare you off. You know itâs supposed to, but now youâre intrigued all the more.Â
His arm curls around your waist tighter than before, spreading warmth throughout your spine, with his chest flush to yours. You can feel the cool touch of his golden chain necklace graze your boobs. With the angle, youâve got to hold onto his broad shoulders for balance. Your manicured nails dig into the threading of his pinstriped suit as he murmurs, all low and inviting, âbut you could get to know me a lot better than that.â
Heâs barely touched youâ hasnât even kissed you yet and youâre already running hot. You wonder what else he could give you, how warm he could make you feel . . . so with that, you decide, âShow me a good time, Goda.âÂ
He grins smugly over the way he has you subconsciously gnawing at your plush bottom lip. Ryuji wants to taste them. You wonder why you find yourself caving; probably because heâs being straightforward and that's always turned you on. âRyuji.â He corrects. âFine, Ryuji.â You sigh, âTake me out.â
And with that, heâs calling for his chauffeur to whisk you both away. The pair of you slither past the dancing crowd of heated bodies and step back out into the real world; where the red light district is bright and alive, where indistinct noise and cigarette smoke alike floats up into the atmosphere, where the december air is nice and cool.Â
Before long, a sleek ride pulls up to the curb, a Toyota Century Royal limousine with enough space for Ryuji to spread you open in the backseat. He surprises you for a second, with how he helps you step inside with a protective hand to your back. What a gentleman.
But the very second those doors slam shut, the wheels start rolling and the partition is closed, Ryuji allows the lust to take over. He touches you all over during the whole ride; slides his hand between your thighs, grabbing and slapping skin, palms rubbing heavy over your tits. You gasp at every ministration, unable to care whether or not the driver overhears. You're grabbing at his broad shoulders and working your way onto his lap with wetness gathering over your thong. He lets you ride his thigh, guiding the rock of your hips with his large hands.
âMm, thatâs it,â he smirks up at you, blonde hair becoming mussed and falling out of place. Stray pieces land on his forehead, and you look down at him with needy eyes with your lips fallen agape. âWannit so fuckinâ bad, dontcha? Hmm?â You kiss along the scar on his upper lip. His bleached brows raise before he takes the invitation to drive his tongue into your awaiting mouth.Â
âAh, RâRyuji,â you whine as he sucks on your tongue, then nips at your jaw, the flesh of your neck, licks a stripe along your collarbone. He only grins, thick fingers dragging down your middle until they disappear beneath your dress. He teases and prods, pinching at your bundle of nerves before rubbing soothing circles over skimpy lace. He'll tear those right the fuck off later. He revels in your noises, how you squirm in his lap, rock against his fingers, grind down hard against the outline of his cock stirring in his trousers.Â
Heâs grabbing at your ass like dough when you finally reach the destination. Itâs some multi-story building, like that of a penthouse. He was right; it's much nicer than what youâre used to. He doesnât even pull your dress back down, just unlatches the door with haste and walks out with your legs tangled around his waist, his big hands cupping your ass to keep you upright. Your heel dangles off and he catches it, kissing you hard and swallowing your moans the whole way up the elevator until you reach the thirtieth floor.Â
The doorâs flung open by the courtesy of his snakeskin shoes kicking it down. The very second it shuts, Ryuji rips you free from your dress, leaving the gold material stranded somewhere forgotten in the lofty space. Youâre quick to pull him free of his clothes, and he cackles about how youâre so eager, possibly even more than him.Â
Ryujiâs six-feet-and-five-inches of pure bulk and muscle; that becomes much more apparent once heâs naked before you. Broad frame, strong corded arms, ripples in his toned stomach, thick firm pecs, vibrant ink crawling up his back, and the heavy bob of his cockâ veined and hard and weeping for you. The hair at the base of him is fine and dark, a contrast to the characteristic blonde slick-back. He observes how hard you stare, drinking him in as you gape at his size, with his hands toying with your body all the while, cupping your wet pussy in his wide palm.Â
Then, when youâre finished drooling over him, he spins you around, smacks your ass, and fucks you against the cool glasswall.Â
The jewelry he bought you dangles from your neck as he pounds into you from behind, grunting against your ear with such a deep rasp that it makes your pussy clench. He can only drive into you harder when you squeeze his dick like that.Â
You feel him in every aspect; mouthing on your neck, cock deep in your womb, hand snaking around your throat. You love how his imposing body swallows you whole.
âFuckinâ take it. Yeahhh, jusâ like that.â He groans, hips throttling forward to feed you more strokes. The way your legs shake makes his ego surge. âSuch a good little slut âfa me, fuck. I love this tight little pussy.âÂ
âRyuâji!â His grip tightens slightly around your throat when you gasp his name. âYeah,â he murmurs against your ear, voice rough with satisfaction. âThatâs it. Say it againâ holy shit, you're so fuckin' wet, doll."
Your fingers slide against smooth glass as his weight presses you deeper against it. Being beneath him feels like being pinned by a fucking storm. The pace of his thrusts are overwhelming, and the way heâs picking you apart is dangerous; yet somehow itâs exactly where you want to be.
âYou were talkinâ real big earlier,â he teases lowly. âRemember that?â
You try to shoot him a glare, breath shaky and uneven. You can barley see past your mussed strands of hair that have fallen out of the style and into your face. âYouâre stillâ mmph, annoyinââ
The words dissolve into a sharp inhale when he slams deep into you. His balls collide against the round of your jiggling ass with every plunge he makes, and the words die in your throat. A string of moans come alive instead, echoing into the night. With the skyline below, you can't help but wonder if all of Sotenbori can see you getting fucked like this.
Ryuji laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. âThat mouth of yours . . .â he mutters, brushing his nose against your jaw. He delivers a punishing thrust, bringing his other hand up to squeeze at your breasts, gripping them in his hands while he rolls his firm hips into your backside. âAll attitude. No fuckinâ bite.âÂ
Your legs wobble instinctively, and he notices immediately. Ryuji turns you over, scoops you up, and lies your back onto the large sofa, situating his burly frame between your thighs and pressing his cock head back against your gaping pussy. You both moan when he puts it in, eyes locking with your mouths dropped open. Heâs never been enveloped by anything warmer.Â
âThought so,â he says, smug. He leans low, shifting his weight onto you, keeping you pressed there. You heave for air, eyes rolling back when he shifts his hips and fucks deeper into you. He's got your legs propped up on either side with his calloused hands, and you find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging crescents into tan, tattooed skin.Â
âAct all disgusted, but look at you now,â he grunts, fucking into you zeal, âTakinâ this big dick so fuckinâ good. Lettinâ me pound this âlil pussy so rough,â he delivers a slap to your puffed clit, and he revels in the way you shake.Â
You shove weakly at his chest. âSâshut upppp,â you moan, unable to contain your scream when he begins to quicken the pace of his thrusts while pairing that with hasty rubs to your clit. âMake me.â Ryuji groans against your mouth, clearly pleased with knowing you canât. If anything, heâs rendered you speechless, driving hard into your walls as you spasm around him, suck him in, grip his cock so nicely. Heâs not sure if he can let you go after this.Â
With the ridiculous speed heâs taking, the both of you were never meant to last long. A couple more sweaty minutes of him swiping your clit, angling his hips, and delivering the most devastating strokes, youâve got your throw your head back on the couch as he pries out your orgasm, shuddering in his arms and screaming out his name. âRyuji, Ryujii, Ryujiiii!âÂ
The sound of you is enough to make him cum hard; thighs tensing, teeth grit, balls tight, quickly slipping out to pump fast at the base of his pulsing dick. Youâve got the Dragon of Kansai himself losing his mind and cumming all over you. Ryuji moans, painting your skin a pretty, pearly white. His semen is warm on your thighs, just as his hands are.Â
He chuckles out into the sex-dampened air, giving the silence no time to settle. You gather the last semblance of your remaining energy to scoff at him, as if he isnât the best youâve ever fucking had. No need to admit, he knows it. Ryuji goads with a rugged smirk, scar lifting when his lips do.
SYNOPSIS: (bakugou has a crush on his baby mama) after practically begging for you to go on a date with him, bakugou katsuki is still yet to ask you out on one so you ask him to fix your car.
WARNINGS: prohero!bkg, mechanic bakugou debut, oral (m receiving), kissing, yn praise kink, flirting, groping, teasing, these guys liiiiiike each other, bkg glasses, bkg jealous
NOTES: if there's typos ignore that, i'll sort it later :) hope everyone enjoys and leave a comment they are so fun to read!! also i never write yn giving head because i do not gaf but it fit here..... also this was longer than expected lol idk what happens. thank u @hexquirk for your idea! i remixed it!
PART 5 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / PART 7
You: are you free? my cars just broken down and i remembered you know a little about cars
katsuki: Your red beetle?
katsuki: Baby I could've told you that thing was gonna die
You: shut up katsuki
katsuki: Send your location Iâll come save you
this fucking red beetle is going to be the death of you. you sound like bakugou, you feel like him after someone just insulted his technique and leadership skills. you twist your key again and again, just to hear your car make a painful crack then wheeze like an untied balloon wizzing around your head.Â
you sigh, then scream, resting your head on the wheel of your car. âfuck. fucking flying fucking fuck.âÂ
your car, which you just took out of the shop three days ago, has died on you. youâre almost sure of it, when not even a flicker of light glows in your dashboard and shit, smoke is steaming from the bonnet.Â
at least you've broken down on an empty road, no other car around and to walk to a spot with people will be about thirty minutes. fuck. though the walk is doable, it is not something you want to do after arguing with a toddler all morning and having an intense shift the day before.
what you could do is call your baby father. the same one who said he was going to take you out on a date but is yet to mention anything about it. you feel like banging your head on a wall, the temptation to ask him when this date he so wanted to happen, will happen. though like you tell kenji, youâre practicing your patience. maybe you can push forward seeing him, cheating by texting him for help because he does know about cars and your dadâs on a trip and your uncle⌠he probably could help you but bakugou katsuki. youâd rather see him.
your fingers pad across your phone, feeling like a mastermind using this as an excuse to see him. itâs not even an excuse! your car is broken. you eye the smoke steaming. you press send.
a few texts bounce back and forth between you both. you even roll your eyes over his texts but that doesnât mean a grin doesnât sneak up on your cheeks at the same time. it feels like your crush is blooming inside you, your heart flipping in your chest at the sight of a virtual baby. you close your eyes, when the hell is he going to ask you on a date, some proper alone time?
the deep smooth rumble tells you all you need to know. you fight the urge to do a little squeal and jump, swoon at the sight of his black porsche coming into view as you lean against your red car. you wipe your palms against your shorts, why the hell are you sweaty over seeing him again? the sun blasts down on you, prickling your skin with heat and youâre grateful for your outfit choice today. tank top and jean shorts, though you wish you brought your sunglasses. nerves shake through your veins just knowing heâs about to appear and you check your appearance in the wing mirror.
then the car slides to a stop, the emblem logo glistening at you, almost laughing at your busted little car. the explosive hero hops out, long thick legs in black basketball shorts, a white compression top and these nerdy rectangular framed glasses. itâs the glasses that make you bite down on your lip as he slams the driverâs door shut and rakes his hand through his hair. he looks as if heâs in a cologne advert or a car one, scanning the scene before landing on you. the left corner of his lips quirk up and heâs laughing. a quick breezy one that only makes you more enamoured by him.
youâre becoming a soppy mess.
âwhy did i even call you?â
he circles around his vehicle to get to you and the way he stares at you⌠you feel gorgeous. a cocky grin, eyes flicking to the top to bottom of you. itâs obvious, he likes what he sees.Â
âyouâre supposed to say hello my sex god baby daddy,â
two hands grip your waist tightly, pressing you up against your car and looking down at you. heâs overwhelming, the smell of his caramel sweat on this hot day, his larger body looming over you. heâs got stubble brushed across his face again and itâs true, he does look like pure sex.Â
ânobody says sex god.â
bakugou pecks you like he couldnât help it, your glossed lips over his moisturised ones. your arms link around his neck, then another peck. he smells good, a strong expensive musky cologne that makes you want to wrap your leg around his waist.
âyeah because they havenât met me yet.âÂ
bakugou acts like he hasnât seen you in months, kissing down your neck and you donât fight him off, simply stretching so heâs got more space. he focuses on the junction between your neck and shoulder, you swear you hear him inhale.
âyou smell so fuckinâ good.â
a giggle bubbles from your lips, âi like your glasses. theyâre sexy.â
katsuki pauses the kisses on your neck, then stands up straight. his head blocks the sun from beaming down on you but it casts a blonde halo through the tips of his hair. of course he has to look angelic, with his plush lips and⌠is he insecure?Â
bakugou reaches for his glasses, like heâs checking theyâre actually there, âfuck. forgot i left them on. was readinâ contracts in the office.â
you donât respond how he expects, it barely looks like youâre even registering what heâs saying. your hand flies up to his wrist, âkeep them on. you look like clark kent, nerdy and sexy.â
living in a country full of superheroes, being one himself, you had to compare him to a fictional one. bakugou scoffs, âdonât compare me to an alien, iâm so much stronger. could kill him with aâ,â
you couldnât care less, pressing your lips to his again and bakugou easily takes control. hips pressing you into your car door so you can feel him hardening against your stomach. he even cocks your leg up so heâs in position to grind into you, a large hand sneaking up your vest.
thatâs when youâve got to stop, pushing him off you abruptly and bakugou is the embodiment of aroused, youâre sure you look it too. âwe arenât having sex on the side of the road.â
bakugou chuckles, loud and boyish. you feel his eyes linger on the hem of your vest, slightly shuffled up to reveal your waist and navel. it would be so easy to unpop the button to your little denim shorts.
âwe arenât?âÂ
bakugou isnât like this usually. heâs never all over women, desperate to touch them as soon as heâs laid eyes on them. he prefers to be private, in a hotel or his bedroom and never mention it again. he never feels pinches of excitement when he gets texts or so eager to abandon his work just to see one. heâs definitely never been so attracted to someone heâs willing to tease them outdoors on the side of a road but youâre looking at him the same way he is looking at you, like you want him desperately. thereâs a layer of sweat on your forehead from the heat, your eyes are half lidded and shiny, he wants to shove you in your car, his car, see your eyes roll back and moan.
âno! you need to look at my car, katsuki.â
bakugou rolls his eyes, he has people to look at his car, he doesnât really know too much about them aside from the basics. but if a pretty woman asks for assistance heâs not saying no.
he rounds to the front of your car, âis kenj at nursery?â
âyup. he was having a tantrum this morning about wanting to wear his orange crocs till he remembered they were at yours.â
you stand with your arms crossed as bakugou opens your car bonnet, wafting his hands to rid the smoke.
âi did ask him if he wanted to bring them to yours and he said no. iâll just stuff them in his bag next time.â
you hum in agreement, transfixed by your baby fatherâs nose scrunched as he stares at your engine. he pushes his glasses up his nose bridge with his knuckle, then looks over at you and grins, âyou look gorgeous. didnât say that before.â
âyou didnât have to say it, you were all over me.â you scoff, though you soften under his gaze, âthanks. whatâs the car saying?â
âyour exhaust is busted again. and thereâs a leak back here.â then he stands, giving you a once over, âi think your shitbox is dead though i can try sort the leak. i have a tool box in my car.â
you smile at him, gold necklace glittering around your neck and bakugou feels a breath halt in his throat. he wasnât lying, you are gorgeous, beautiful, you texted him for help. âthank you! iâll call car repairs for them to pick her up. i think sheâs still worth saving.â
bakugou rolls his eyes adoringly, walking over to his car boot. âwishful thinkinâ, sweetheart.â
staring at your baby daddy tinkering with something in your car, has to be covered under soft core porn. he wipes the sweat off his forehead, slaps your ass when you walk by. he keeps having to adjust his glasses from leaning down and now he has a streak of dirt across his cheek. youâre useless at this moment, arms behind your back, pretending to be helpful and looking in the engine but you honestly canât tell who from what.Â
âdo you want some water? iâve got a spare bottle inside?â
bakugou hums, âif you donât mind, baby.â
you open your car door to grab it, throwing it over to him and he catches with ease. he drinks like he hasnât for days, his adamâs apple bobbing with every swallow and heâs got the nerve to look at you as he does it. itâs like a competition with himself, how fast he finishes it, scrunching the plastic in a single hand. itâs the scars along his arm that really catch your eye, the pink skin tissue wrapped around him like ribbon. itâs so pretty, a reminder of his strength of who he is.
âyouâre so dramatic,â you whisper, though it doesnât come out with as much sass as you intended. bakugou wipes across his mouth with the back of his hand.
his smirk is wicked, âonly âcause youâre watchinâ me.â
you tap your foot waiting for him to finish with your car, scrolling through your phone, eyeing his chunky bicep in the thin white fabric. you feel electric when he huffs in completion, ââm done. the leaks stopped though best you call them now to come get it. iâll drop you to wherever you were going, then i gotta go back to work.â
you pout childishly at that, silly to assume he can drop his whole day for you. you step over to him, hand flat on his chest, âthanks for helping me out.â you flicker your eyes up at him, âi really appreciate it.âÂ
âyeah?â obsessed doesnât cut it for bakugou. a grubby hand lands on your hip and heâs feels nervous when you eye him like this. your calculated touches and lingers to get him to do what you want, and fuck, heâs going to do it.Â
you nod softly, sliding your hand down his chest and brushing your fingers against his crotch. âiâll just call them, only be a minute.â
bakugou doesnât move away whilst youâre on the phone. he leans against your car, pulling you between his legs by your jean belt loops and follows your lips with every word you make. he wants you to be his girlfriend, he wants to be your first call. you laugh over the phone, âyeah, i had someone help with theâŚ.âÂ
you look at him for the answer.
âexhaust box,â bakugou says, hand trailing down to rest on your ass. he doesnât like being called someone, thereâs so much more between you two. at least your baby daddy. he curses under his breath.
youâre even able to woo people with your voice, that fucker on the other end keeping you on the call for longer than needed. bakugou pulls you in closer so you focus on him again. you tilt your head in silent questioning but he doesnât let anything go, frowning slightly as he starts to kiss along your jaw, palm on your bare waist.
your breath hitches immediately, leaning all your body weight onto him.
âokay, okay, iâll see you soon. thanks⌠yep thanks!â youâre quick to hang up, stuffing your phone in your back pocket.
âget inside the car,â you order, managing to make your voice sound somewhat authoritative as bakugou untangles from you.Â
âyes, baby,â he grins, climbing into the backseat of your little car. you climb in after, grabbing his head to slam his lips onto yours as soon as your knee presses into the seat cushion. bakugou mumbles against you, âthereâs more space in my car.â
you notice how his arm is pressed against kenjiâs car seat, his knee is jabbing the back of the drivers seat and if heâs not careful, his head will knock on the ceiling. still, you pout, âyouâve got a car seat too!â
âyeah and thereâs still more space, baby.âÂ
your car is smaller, but you like it, such close quarters with this massive man. he looks even bigger than usual, overgrown limbs and muscled chest. he can barely stretch his arms out, not needing to bend his elbows to touch both sides. you pick up kenjiâs seat and you place it in the front passenger seat.Â
âthere. more space,â you mumble, not giving him time to reply because youâve got your leg across his lap and bakugou adjusts easily, pushing you back down on the seat to rest his forearms by your head.
heâs never seen you like this, had you like this. usually, itâs him coming onto you, him flirting his way to get a pretty smile from you or looking up your skirt just so you think about him. last time you spoke in the coffee shop, you were still nervous about dating but now youâve horny and smothering him, bakugou can barely keep track. it makes him harden under his shorts as you climb him like a gym, hands running down his arms, fingers through his hair, a little tug. bakugou wants to take his glasses off so itâs easier to kiss you but you said you liked them, so heâs willing to struggle for the moment.
âiâm too fuckinâ big for this shit,â he mumbles, but youâre looking at him eager and excited and heâs not about to deny you now. until he unbuttons your jeans and you deny him.
âwait. youâre not touching me with your grubby hands,â as much as youâd love him too, the black grime and grease from your engine is seriously putting you off.
âfuck,â bakugou grunts, looking at his palms and grimacing at the dirt all over. why is there always something between you both? you grab him by the collar of his top for another kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and youâre moaning into his mouth. bakugou doesnât realise youâre slowly pushing him up until heâs up against the seat, hands taped to your waist.
âactually,â and bakugou listens. hanging onto every word you say. âi wanted to do this last time⌠before you were annoying.â
bakugouâs cheeks flush red, a mixture of his embarrassment and you, you, getting on your knees and slotting yourself between his legs. youâre smiling, a happy little one as your hands run down his tanned thighs in his basketball shorts. it should be him on his knees for you, with your thighs muffling his ears and you on his tongue.Â
âyouâre gonna be the death of me, yâknow?â bakugou grumbles and if you didnât know him youâd think he was irritated. maybe he is a little because heâd do anything for you if you asked and once you figure that out itâs game over. âyou donât have to do that.â
âbut i want to. i really want to see you come.â
bakugou releases a low fuck as you shuffle down his shorts, just enough to pull out his cock. itâs the look on your face that gets him. youâre excited with your flared eyes, almost too excited as you bite the inside of your cheek.Â
to you, this is the first time youâve ever seen bakugou like this. the first time you had sex, it was rushed, the room was dark and you touched him but didnât actually see him. now, outdoors and midday you can see everything. the slight lean to the right, his reddened mushroom head and thick veins trailing from bottom to top like a tree branch. bakugou was thick, hefty. exactly like you thought heâd be.
âstop fuckinâ lookinâ like that,â he grunts and heâs about to touch himself, just a stroke but you slap his hand away.
you can see him twitch from that, a few droplets of pre beading out.
âlike what?â you grip the base of his cock and the man rumbles, a deep inhale that has him leaning into your grip.
âso fuckinâ excited,â heâs staring at you through half lidded eyes, a palm stroking your cheek softly. he needs to play his cards right with you. he needs to get you right.
you roll your eyes, sitting up on your knees to neatly spit on his head. âwhat the fuck, baby?â he practically studies your pursed lips, the glob of spit the lands on him and he thinks he could come just from how satisfied you look. lightly wiping your mouth and using your spit to stroke him. your wrist flicks up and gown, creating a smooth rhythm that rings through his body.
âyou should be nice to me, âki.â
âyouâre throwinâ out all the big guns callinâ me that.â
you squeeze him in your curled hands, just to see him jolt, growl at you. ââki? dâyou like âki?â
he chuckles like heâs in pain, resting his forearm on his forehead. the sight makes you shuffle on your knees, a dull throb ringing in your clit. âiâd love anythinâ you call me. fuck, just like that, baby.â
you bite down on your lip. you and praise go hand in hand. everything in you lights up, keeping your grip the same pressure, just how he likes.
âiâm doing good, âki?â
âperfect, baby. w-wasnât expectinâ this today.â
neither were you. when you think heâs as thick as heâs going to get, you open your mouth, flatten your tongue and go down on your baby father. the saltiness from the pre makes you moan and that only causes katsuki to make a jumble of sounds, all positive. bakugou softly caresses your jaw and your lower half heats like a furnace, all ablaze and begging to be touched.
âyouâre so pretty like this. all for me, fuck,âÂ
the compliment only makes you want to impress him more, keeping your fist around him while you focus on his head. licking over his tip and sucking. bakugou looks as if heâs reached his limit, reaching for your hand on his thigh and intertwining his fingers with yours. youâre not surprised he likes holding hands during head.
âif you keep doinâ that, iâm gonna come, baby. youâre doinâ so good, wanna fuckinâ keep you,â he wants to say all types of shit, spill his biggest secrets when you have him like this. ask you to be his girlfriend, ask to move in with him, askâ
you watch how his biceps tense, his abs and pectorals prominent through his thin shirt. his thighs are hard, all pent up energy as his hand drifts to the back of your neck and back to under your jaw.
âcâmon pretty girl, fuck, youâre soâ,â
bakugou squeezes your hand tightly before he comes down your throat. he grits his teeth as he does, a rough beastly grunt like its all too overwhelming, staring down at you staring up at him. you take it all, the corner of your eyes watering from lack of air.Â
itâs the power that turns you on, the ability to turn one of the strongest men in the world to an exhausted lump in your car. youâre not surprised to see heâs still hard after, pulling you from the ground to sit beside him and slamming his lips to yours.
he can taste himself on your tongue but heâs too carried away to think about anything but you. he pushes you against the car door, slotting between your open legs as you hold his head so heâs unable to leave. you both are a sweaty mess, windows blurred with condensation but the only thing you can think about doing right now is fucking him. feeling him slide into you and filling you up.
until thereâs a knock on your window, one that causes you to scream into bakugouâs mouth and bakugou pulls off you with a, âhah?â
your chest is heaving, breasts in bakugouâs face with every breath. âoh shit, i forgot the car guys are coming.â you wipe at your eyes, blinking your raging hormones away, âdâyou think they saw meââ
bakugou shakes his head, kissing your forehead and tucking himself away in his underwear. thereâs no chance they saw him with his dick out, he was practically stuck to you.
ânah baby, i woulda heard if they pulled up earlier and the windows were foggedâÂ
he adjusts his glasses on his nose, pulls up your vest where a breast was about to fall out. âdâyou want me to talk to them?â
you give him a shy nod, âgive me two seconds.â
you fix your hair when bakugou slides out and you listen to their conversation outside. you laugh behind your palm, youâve never done anything in a car before besides kissing. definitely not during the day with the chance of being caught. fuck, you hope he didnât see anything.
when you finally hop out, bakugouâs standing with his arms crossed watching the mechanic look at your engine. he relaxes at the sight of you, bumping you slightly with his side when you stand beside him.
âhe didnât see anything, did he?â
bakugou shakes his head, ânah. he apologised for takinâ so long when we couldnât turn the air con on in this heat.â
he slings an arm around your shoulder, looking ahead, âi know youâve been wonderinâ why i havenât asked you on a date yet.â
you glare up at him, âyou think?â
bakugou grins pulling out an envelope from his shorts pocket, âitâs a bit creased from us fuckinâ around butâ,â
bakugouâs ugly chicken scrawl is on the front, your name in a black ballpoint pen. âwhat is it?â you ask, snatching it from his hand.
âso i know itâs not gonna exactly be alone time b-but i thought youâd enjoy it. i was waitinâ for the invitations to come out to ask you to be my plus one.â
you rip open the envelope, surprised to see a red and gold themed invitation. your name in gold cursive, hero gala, this weekend, charity, formal.
you gasp, fighting the urge to jump in your spot, âiâm your plus one to a hero gala? this is like those princess ball events!â
bakugou feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders, thank fuck he asked you. âi usually hate these events, always try and get outta them but i know you like dressinâ up and itâs for a good cause.â
then you read the invite again, slower this time to find the words, charity for disadvantaged children. âis this because of the day i cried? about work?â
bakugou nods, trying to read your expression, âyeah, thought youâd actually be interested in talkinâ to the people there and people are gonna wanna talk to you, seeinâ as you do just as much as us heroes do.â
âyouâre crazy, bakugou katsuki,â you grin, jabbing his chest.Â
of course, heâd do something like this for your first date. have it be luxurious and meaningful, something you would have done without all the glitz and the glamour.
âso are you cominâ? is that okay?â heâs squeezing you to him with your neck in the crook of his elbow, looking down at you to finally gather your thoughts. âour next date will be just us, promise.â
youâre nodding before he finishes his sentence, âyeah, yes. this is really cool, iâm looking forward to it.â
bakugou grins, kissing you cheek, âgood.â then he eyes the mechanic surrounded by multiple tool boxes, his legs practically dangling out of your car, âi bet you heâs gonna say the same shit i said. your carâs going in the dump, sweetheart.â
you slap his chest, âdonât say that! wishful thinking!â
âiâll just buy you a new one.â
âdo not do that, katsuki.â
âwhat if i say itâs for kenji?â
âkenji canât driveâ,â
âhey dynamight, miss yn,â the mechanic stumbles over, a man the same age as you and bakugou, midnight black hair and freckles. you donât miss how he stares at you, longer than necessary then he looks to bakugou to talk about your car. âso iâm sorry to say iâm probably going to have to take it to the shopâ,â
âtalk to yn, itâs her car,â bakugou says in a grunt. you do a closed lipped smile at the guy and he blushes, a burgundy red flooding his cheeks. bakugou doesnât try to hide his muttered, âfuck sake.â
âsorry, itâs because i was talking to you first⌠sorry. so iâm going to have to take your car to the shop, to see if i can find extra parts to fix it but itâs looking likely weâre going to have to dump it. iâm not sure how it even lasted this long.â
you pout at your little red car, hands holding bakugouâs forearm on your shoulder. youâve had it for years, the first car youâve driven kenji in, getting it probably third-hand online off of a second hand site. youâre going to miss her.
âoh okay. thank you for all your help, iâll stay in contact,â you nod, you wonât admit it to bakugou, but you knew it was her time. âiâll just take out my stuff and you can take her.â
bakugou helps to bring kenjiâs car seat into his car, along with your bag, spare car blanket and any other bits and bobs you had lying around.Â
âhe wanted you. fuckinâ idiot. should have blasted him into next week,â despite carrying everything your car carried, bakugou still managed to open your car door, waiting for you to sit and slamming it behind you.
when he finally settles in the driver's seat, you watch your car roll away, attached to the mechanicâs truck. âhe was cute.â
âhah? what the fuhâ,â
you hold your baby fatherâs jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, amused at how quickly his face can go from beautiful to scrunched up and annoyed.
âiâm joking. not as cute as you in those glasses.â
now itâs bakugouâs turn for all the blood in his body to rise to his cheeks, looking away from you despite you holding him. you really love this seven oâclock shadow, the prickle beneath your fingers.
before he has a chance to reply verbally, your eyes light up in remembrance.
âiâm going to have to ask your mum to look after kenji this weekend. my mumâs on a city break,â then you grin slightly, tomfoolery brewing inside of you. bakugou kisses your palm, starting his car, âthis why you donât date your baby father, i usually leave him with you when i go on dates.â
he swings his head to glare at you, âwhy are you insisinâ on botherinâ me? should have had our date at a farm and iâd leave you there.â
you giggle and bakugouâs hand finds your thigh as he begins to drive, âwhere am i takinâ you? i already know the agency is blowinâ up my phone.â
you huff, sue you for wanting to spend more time with him, âjust take me home, i had a hair appointment originally but i rescheduled it. you sure i canât interest you in perhaps, coming back home with me, laying in bed⌠perhaps naked?â
he grips your bare thigh tightly, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you, âwho knew youâd be such a menace? i fuckinâ wish i could but i swear next time iâm gonna have you over my knee.â
your eyes widen, âkatsuki!âÂ
youâd enjoy that, a lot actually.
âbut thank you for earlier, i really fuckinâ enjoyed that. i hate leavinâ you like this.â
untouched, unsatisfied but you shake your head, âyou donât have to thank me for that. itâs sweet you think you do but next time.â
your last two words make the tension visible in the car, a hot bubble youâre both trapped in. bakugou sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and stares over at yours, âyeah baby, next time.â
katsuki: If you do want a new dress send me it and Iâll buy it for you
katsuki: Donât buy one yourselfÂ
You: noooo itâs fine i already have one i havenât worn yet
katsuki: Canât wait to see you baby gonna be so fucking prettyÂ
katsuki: Also my mum can look after Kenj
katsuki: Sheâs gonna ask so many fucking questionsÂ
PART 4 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / SOMETHING ELSE
likes donât do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
comment here if youâd like to be in the taglist xoxo
pairing: frat!rafe/ghostface!rafe x reader (uni au)
warnings: no plot; smut
inspired by this audio (+18)
between midterms, a terrible class project partner, and your roommate constant need to fuck her boyfriend at any given hour of the day, youâre half asleep most days.
the only thing you should be doing is sleeping, anywhere, for hours, but instead, you let yourself get dragged to a halloween party.Â
sure, youâre running on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, but heaven forbid you to miss a party because your roommate just had to be there. never mind that sheâs been wearing her "not-so-pg sexy witch" costume since last tuesday, casting spells for her crush to notice her (like he doesnât see half her skin every night anyway).
you look hotter than you'd like to admit. black mini dress? check. sky-high boots? check. a little lace mask that hides just enough to keep the mystery going? obviously.
you're not trying too hard, but youâre giving just enough to turn heads, with a vibe that says, âi might ruin your life, but you'll thank me for it."
youâre rocking some version of a "slutty masquerade," not that anyone could guess what that means, but it gets you a free drink within five minutes. and the best part? nobody knows itâs you.
the only downside is that youâre in his territory.
it could be anywhere, but itâs happening at his frat.
your project partner, personal headache and resident menace, rafe cameron holds court here like heâs king of the idiots.
heâs hot, youâll give him that, guyâs all charm until itâs time to work; then heâs as useless as that cheap foundation your roommate keeps borrowing.
and now youâre here, half hoping to avoid his face entirelyâhis smirk that screams "âm getting credit off your hard work" and that irking attitude that makes him think heâs doing you a favor.
as if seeing him once a week in class isnât enough of a problem. you pull your mask down a bit lower, not that heâd recognize you through the lace, but just in case.
against all odds, youâre having a good time. the drinks are goodâsomething sugaryâand you find yourself laughing, loosening up.
mid-laugh, you walk straight into someone, practically face-plant into a solid chest. you stagger back, the guy's hand catching your elbow to hold you, and you look up, only to be met with a ghostface mask.
âohh, sorry,â he says with an amused chuckle like he's getting a kick out of startling you. "sorry, sorryâi  didnât mean to scare you," he adds, not sounding remotely apologetic.
you raise a brow, your lips curving just slightly. âhmm, you sure? cause it kinda looks like you enjoy it."
he puts a hand up in mock innocence. ânah, i swear, completely unintentional,âÂ
you blink up at him, squinting against the red lighting to catch a better look at his mask. itâs honestly a little creepy up close, that ghostface grin somehow twisting a bit more under the lights and crowd. but youâre in the mood to get laid tonight.
"nice costume,â you donât bother to hide the way your eyes stuck to every corner of his body, âscary.â
he doesnât catch it though, leaning down, head tilting, âwhat?â he asks, chuckling a bit as he stands closer. âyeah, sorryâthe musicâs way too loud.â
rolling your eyes with a little attitude, you repeat yourself, a bit louder. âi said, your costumeâs scary.â
he nods, shaking his head like heâs relieved, and rubs the back of his neck, as if this mask isnât hiding the flush you think you see creeping up his neck. âoh, thanks. yeah, uh, you lookâŚâ his voice trails off a little, and he clears his throat, swallowing. âyou look pretty, uh, scary too.â
you raise a brow, "you think so?"
he nods again, âyeah, âm terrified of hot women, soâŚâ
the music cuts him off this time around, his words getting lost in the heavy bass, itâs harder to know what heâs saying when you canât read his lips. you frown, stepping closer into his space. âhmm?â
the guy practically jolts, ânothing, nothingâitâs, uhâŚâ he stammers, then gestures at your face, his fingers brushing near your mask. âitâs a cool mask.â
you smile, amused. âthanks, ghostface. should i be, yâknow, scared of you?â
 âi donât know, that depends. should i be scared of you?â
"nop, you're cute. i like where this is going."
the guyâs mask tilts, thereâs smidge of surprise in his voice. "really? soâso youâre into masks and, like, the whole psycho-killer thing?â
you shrug nonchalantly, letting your gaze drag over him slower. "only if they're hot and built like you."
there's a short pause, and you can practically feel the amused smile hidden under his mask. âoh, okay, yeah, yeahâso what is it? do you like being scared, or?â
thereâs something about a guy like himâtall, broad-shouldered, who could probably break you in half without even trying. and honestly? you like that kind of shit. youâve always wanted a guy who could cover you with his entire body, whoâd tower over you in a way that was intimidating enough to make your heart pound.Â
the kind that, if you begged nicely, might just be able to cut off your oxygen in bed with one hand. and here he is, looking like he could throw you around a little if you wanted him to. which you might. his hand still hovering near your waist isnât exactly subtle eitherâitâs like he knows, somehow. either way, you keep your expression smooth, not giving him anything, itâs more fun that way.
you let out a giggle thatâs only partly mocking. "maybe i just like danger, ghostface. or maybe i like watching people squirm."
âholy shit, thatâs fucked up.â
you take a slow sip of your drink, watching his shirt cling to his chest as he takes a deep breath, every inch of that body sculpted to the fucking gods like it was made for nights like this. shit, thatâs a nice body.Â
you canât help the sly smirk that pulls at your lips as you murmur, âwhatâs wrong with liking it rough?â
he snickers, almost breathlessly, and you know youâre getting to him. âthereâs something a little wrong with you.â
yeah, there is. you almost blurt out the truthâthat your panties are drenched and practically glued to your skin because of him, that heâs got you feeling hornier than youâve felt in a long time. but you choose to let your fingers trail down his arm, slow and teasing.Â
âyou think so?â you faux-pout, giving him a look thatâs all dark lashes and bad intentions.
he swallows, stumbling over his words. ây-yeah, i mean, thereâs some things you need to⌠work on.â
you tilt your head, smiling in that way you know drives guys crazy, leaning in just enough to make him catch his breath. âwould you like to help me?â
he stares at you, goosebumps rising along his arm where your fingers still rest, visibly caught off guard, âwhat does that mean?â
with a wicked grin, you reach up, wrapping your manicured hands around his neck, his breath all but halting as you pull him down until his face is level with yours. his breath hitches, and you take your time, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear, enough to make him shiver.Â
âyou find me upstairs,â you murmur, voice dripping with promise, âand âm all yours. okay?â
instead of waiting for him to process it, youâre already sneaking off into the crowd, leaving him rooted. you donât try looking back, already feeling his stare burning into you, dazed and desperate as he takes in what you just promised. you donât second guess yourself once, you know heâs coming.
by the time he shakes himself out of his trance, youâre halfway up the stairs.
at the top, you stop, one quick peek over your shoulder to check if heâs still watching.
you push open a random door and slip into an empty room, locking eyes with yourself in the mirror. hair a little wild, eyes glinting with that mischievous glint you know all too well. you adjust your mask, the lace sitting just right over your cheekbones. you pull your dress higher, letting it ride up just a little higher, admiring the way the fabric clings to you, showing off every curve.
you turn the lights off, letting the room fall into shadows. heâll have to work for it if he wants to find you. you can imagine the way heâll hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering what the hell heâs getting himself into.Â
why make it easy for him?
rafe watches you leave, standing there like a fucking idiot, heart hammering in his chest as he replays what just happened. the words âfind me upstairs, and iâm all yoursâ looping in his mind like a mantra. the confidence in your voice, the way you looked at him like you already knew heâd be followingâfuck, itâs enough to make him hard just thinking about it.
he swallows, trying to be calm as he looks around, but thereâs no hiding the way his breathingâs quickened, how his body is buzzing at the thought of finding you, alone, in a dark room, just waiting for him.
youâre playing with him, he tells himself, but he doesnât care. heâs going to go after you anyway.
pushing through the crowd, heâs half-dazed, talking to himself under his breath, almost wheezing out a series of what the fucks. his grip wraps around the banister as he ascends the stairs, his fingers still itching from where youâd brushed against him. he feels completely out of his element. girls flirt with him all the time, heâs with girls all the time, sure, but thisâthis is different.Â
he always been a sucker for a good challenge and youâd practically left him in the dust, tossing back that promise without even checking if heâd follow.
at the top, he pauses, looking down the hallway, every door holding the possibility that you might be behind it, waiting.Â
rafe feels that thrill coil in his stomach, his heart pounding in anticipation. heâs like a kid on halloween night, trick-or-treating at the house heâs always been too afraid to knock on. but you dared him, so thereâs no way heâs backing out now.
he starts with the first door, pushing it open only to find it empty, checking the shadows, in case youâre hiding, but nothing. he goes into the next door, finding a couple already in there, and quickly shuts it again, eyes slamming shut, ignoring their annoyed stares as he backs out.
third timeâs the charm, yeah? he thinks, reaching for the next door and pulling it open. the door creaks as it swings shut behind him, his footsteps are slow, hesitant, and the scuff of his shoes against the floor makes him cringe.Â
it takes him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, pupils dilating as he walks further inside.his breathing is loud and uneven, almost like heâd run all the way here. he stops in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling hard, his breath painfully audible.Â
his heart is doing an annoying thing, pounding, and he swears he can hear it.
did he misread you? the space is eerily quiet, he canât help but wonder if heâs been set up, if youâre somewhere downstairs, laughing at how eagerly he followed your trail up here like a fucking dumbass.
rafe scans the roomâs edges, searching, and he notices a quick movement in the cornerâsomething. he swallows he leans forward a little, squinting to make out any familiar shape.
âyou wanna play hide and seek?â he calls out, hoping heâs not making a fool out of himself, âis that it?â heâs taking gulps of air, feeling dizzy from being in the dark for so long, âyou like this?â
a quiet giggle echoes from one of the corners, inviting, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. youâre playing this game too well, lurking just beyond his reach, and the longer he waits, the more desperate he feels.
he swallows, his mind spiraling as he steps walks around, slow and cautious, hands slightly trembling. heâs caught off guard by just how badly he wants you; the way you kept looking at him like he was the prey downstairs, has him all kinds of worked up.Â
his cock stirring against his jeans is proof enough.Â
âyou want me to scare you or somethinâ?â he provokes you, praying itâs enough to lure you out, âyou think itâs smart? letting a stranger chase you into a room, with no one else around. youâre all alone with me.â
âwho says youâre that dangerous?â
the second the words leave your mouth, rafeâs resolve slips.Â
itâs maddening, the way youâre hiding from him, how your voice seems to come to him from every dark corner of the room. he shouldnât have drowned two shots before following you, but the liquid courage had been tempting.Â
youâre keeping him on a tight leash, making him wonder if heâs got a shot or if youâre just messing with his head. he wants to see you again, your expressionâwants to read you, even if the last time he tried, he ended up with his mind in knots.
âyou donât even know my name,â he muses, taking a couple steps closer to the closet, âdoes that make it more fun for you? that you donât know anything about me?â
his movements are cautious, almost reverent as if youâre something sacred and forbidden all at once. he stops, opening the doors, leaning inside as he half-whispers, ânot here, huh?â no answer, just silence, but he swears he can feel you watching him, your gaze prickling his skin, almost burning, âwhere are you? câmon come out, iâll go easy on you.â
he sighs, sounding like more of a frustrated exhale. no sign of you anywhere. he shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh, more amused than annoyed.Â
âbe a good girl and come out.â
rafe stalks around the room with the focus of someone hunting prey, his footsteps deliberate, his hands gliding along the walls and over furniture. he reaches the small bathroom door adjacent to the room, his fingers tightening around the handle. his lips pull into a smirk as he pausesâlistening.Â
the roomâs quiet, but then, he hears it: the faint, uneven rhythm of your breathing, a quickened inhale, almost as if his words had finally affected you. he stops dead, dropping his hand from the door and turning around with a dark gleam in his eyes.Â
âwaitâwait,â his voice lowers with satisfaction, with the thrill of the chase. he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes roving the room as he zeroes in on where youâre hiding. âi can hear you, can hear you breathing.âÂ
he takes a slow, taunting step, his head tilting, as though heâs relishing the way youâre fighting to stay silent, to keep control.Â
âwhatâs the matter? you sound a littleâŚâ he trails off in a murmur, enjoying the tables turning. â...shaken up. are you scared?â
your breath slips, just enough to betray you and his lips quirk up.
âi know exactly where you are.â with lazy confidence, he walks over to the far corner where the heavy velvet curtains seem to pool against the floor, drawn closed over the tall, narrow window.Â
his fingers brush the fabric, his eyes narrowing as if he can feel the warmth of you just on the other side. then, in one smooth motion, he grabs the curtain and yanks it open.Â
âcaught you.â
moonlight spills in, illuminating you both. in a second, youâre pressed against the wall, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your costume accentuates every curve of your body.Â
he steps in close, his silhouette blocking the light as he cages you in, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head, the other landing on your waist. his gaze drops to your lips, taking time to roam the way youâre biting your lip.
you tilt your chin up, âmaybe i just like trouble.âÂ
rafeâs grip on your waist tightens in response, a hunger that he canât hide, while heâs memorizing the way youâre looking up at him, ready to push him just as far as he can take it.
âyouâre in trouble, alrighâ,â he shakes his head, while his hand inches down, slipping lower along your body until his thumb brushes against the curve of your hip, âdonât think you understand what youâre getting yourself into.â
your fingers slide up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his black shirt, the way his heart hammers from your touch alone.
âmaybe thatâs what i want,â you whisper, tipping your head up so your lips brush against his mask.
he shudders, and you let your fingers trail slowly down, tracing over the line of his collarbone. rafe swallows hard, his body thrumming with tension. his eyes dropping to your mouth once again, wishing heâd been smart enough to take the mask off, so he could kiss you.Â
âyou donât know what youâre asking for,â he breathes, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. heâs already melting under your touch, the desperation in the way he holds onto you confessing just how badly he needs it.
âyou want me?â you ask, watching his pupils dilate as you lean in even closer, close enough that he can smell the fruity trace of your drink on your breath trough the mask, the lingering sweetness making him light-headed.
 jesus fucking christ where have you been all his life?
âyeah,â he mutters, voice strained, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you, âi want you.â his hand trails up your side, down the line of your dress, stopping just at the hem. he hesitates, holding himself back for your sake, the look in his eyes begging for permission, daring you to say something, to let him go further.
you smirk, letting your fingers slip lower, grazing over the top of his waistband, ââm already so wet for you.â
a rough, almost growling sound escapes his throat as his fingers taunt around you, his control slipping at the admission. âyeah?â he grunts, letting his hand glide under the hem of your dress, his fingers inching higher, grazing along the sensitive skin of your thigh, âlets find out.â
the first brush of his fingers against your thong sends a shiver from your head to your toes, his smirk growing. heâs bold now, unapologetic as he moves them up, grazing the thin barrier of fabric between his hand and you.
your panties are ruined, drenched, and stuck to you most uncomfortably, he can tell from the way you keep pushing your hips forward, begging him to do something.Â
he doesnât think twice before using two fingers to pull the sticky fabric to the side.
âfuck,â he mutters to himself, âall this for me?â
you have to bite your lip to stop a moan from slipping out when he finally touches you properly. two of his long, thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding into you with no resistance. the feeling of your cunt clamping around him makes his cock twitch.Â
he works you open, even the slightest touches have you arching your back from the wall. the need in his eyes turns ravenous with every desperate little gasp you let out. he moves slowly, deliberately, feeling the warmth of you clenching around his him, as he curls his fingers just right,Â
âyouâre so wet, ah, yeahâyouâre gonna scream for me?â
his thumb finds your clit with ease, and he presses down, drawing gentle circles that make your knees buckle. he grins, drinking in every sound youâre trying to bite back. his thumb stays steady over your clit, circling with the perfect rhythm, applying just enough pressure to keep you breathless.
âcâme here,â his other hand moves with swift, easy dominance, capturing your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you firmly against the wall,â you like this shit?âÂ
âyouâre gonna fuck me with the mask on?â you grind yourself harder against him, practically delusional from the way heâs making you feel, âkinky.â
he's mesmerized by the way your breasts jolt underneath your dress with each shaky breath you take, your skin feels feverish, heat radiating off it like a furnace.
âjust like you wanted,â he promises, his voice filled with satisfaction as his thumb presses down harder, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. âgo on, let me hear itâride my hand.â
he tightens his hold on your wrists, keeping you perfectly in place, not prying his eyes away from how your brows frow with every grind.Â
âfuckkkkk, do that again,â you whine when he hits a particular spot, your walls tightening around him in a way that makes him want to stop the foreplay and fuck you right away.
rafe leans forward to coo praise into your ear, âlike this?â your skin is sticky with sweatâsome saliva tooâhis. heâs never been this fucking hard in his life. he slows down on purpose, to torture you, doing anything in his power to make you beg, âooh look at youâ a fuckin mess.â he taunts.
âdonât be an asshole,â you groan, fingers itching to be set free, and grab his shoulders so you can slam down on him harder, âyou gotta make me cum if you wanna fuck me.â
he runs deep circles into your clit making you press your legs together, knowing that he's getting exactly what he wants makes him chuckle into your skin. by this point as he mindlessly humps against your writhing body, heâs peeking down, taking a moment to admire the mess of slickness between your thighs.
âyou want more?â youâre so caught up in the feeling that you donât notice his hand leaving yours, wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to him, âanswer meâ
âanother finger,â you spit out when he tightens his grip on your neck, the added touch having you on the brink.
rafe doesnât even look at you, too entranced by your mess to make eye contact. he never got so lost during sex, but your pussyâs making him intoxicated to the point where his senses are dull, and the part of him thatâs fully aware is his dick.Â
heâs not even inside you yet, and still, he can cum just from seeing you ride his fingers. âanother?â
he groans at the way one of your hands move to flex over his, watching in amusement as you try to get him to add one more finger. he mutters a low, gruff âgood girlâ as he slides a third finger in, pressing just deep enough to make your legs tremble, since you asked so nicely.
âthink you can handle more?â rafe prods, âyouâre so tight, donât think you can take me.â
the way his fingers work, methodical and relentless, leaves you barely able to breathe, let alone answer.
âi could take t-two of you,â you tease, letting a breath out, and turning your head to face him. god you wondered if he looked good under that mask, but if he was this good in bed, who fucking cared.
âthe only thing youâre taking is this fucking costume off,â he grumbles against your shiny lips, fanning like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. heâs already tugging at the material, pulling the straps to the side before you can, nudging it aside, âlook at you. gotta get my hands on you.â
rafe moves his attention to your breast and squeezes firmly, the tips of his fingers clasping down on your nipple, pressing and pulling as he chases after those sweet sounds that leave your lips.
âlook at these tits, fuckâ he rasps, eyes trailing over your chest and savoring every inch, his breath almost a snarl, âthisâ what you wanted?â
you pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adamâs apple, âi wanted your cock not your fingerâ"
his pitches your nipple harder making you squirm, âwatch your fuckinâ mouth.â
the way youâre creaming his hand should be illegal, but this man is clearly sent from above. someone finally listened to you and gave you exactly what you needed to survive your dry spell.Â
you reach down to cup him up through his jeans, âor what?â
he moans, head dropping to your shoulder, âfuck,â he mutters, his tone conveying that heâs just as distracted, watching how your puffy folds glisten with your arousal.
âhmmm, canât hear you ghostface.â
rafeâs too entranced to put you in your place, youâve got him eating out the palm of your hand. the sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers are obscene, the simple act of your hand grazing cock has his knees buckling.
he can feel his heart beating miles a minute and he swears he could die right there, his hand coming down to grip the swell of your ass, kneading it firmly. you sigh contently with every slow drag of his hand, your head falling on his shoulder, nipping at his neck no doubt marking him up again.
âopen your mouth.â you lift your head immediately, no smartass bullshit coming out of your lips, he chuckles breathlessly at your impatience, fingers moving from your ass to your parted hole, âsuck my fingers, go on.â
itâs hard to make any coherent thought when his fingers are still inside you, dragging against your spongy walls deliciously, but your tongue automatically slips around his digits, doing your best to suck them down your throat. youâd never felt so willing to let a man bend you however he wants to, hushed curses escaping your occupied mouth, raking your nails down his arm.Â
âgood girl, yeahhhh, thatâs it,â he grunts when you prod his skin harder, âyou like digginâ your nails into me, like it rough, huh? âcourse you do,â he stammers out when you clamp harder around him, your slick making everything slippery, âcourse you fucking do.â
with his fingers buried deep inside you and your lips wrapped around his other hand, rafeâs fully intoxicated, drunker than he can ever get. the sounds you make, he never wanted to taste something so bad, if it wasnât for his stupid maskâ
âtake this thing offâ" he grinds his hips into you, the rough fabric of his jeans pressing deliciously against your bare skin, teasing you, while his hand leaves your mouth to do nothing else but rip your panties apart.
you let out a huff, glancing down at whatâs left of your underwear as he tosses it aside like nothing, already sliding his back up your thigh, âyouâre paying for those.â
âwhatever you want.â
youâre already occupied with his stupid belt, fingers quickly working to take the damn thing off, pawing at him to help. itâs only then he leaves your pussy unattended, settling his hold on your hips while you fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.Â
he grabs the underside of your thigh, picking your leg up and wrapping it around his waist, backing you two further into the wall, eyes gazing into yours, even though you canât see him. why the fuck do your eyes look so familiar?
the tip of his dick kisses the skin of your pussy, the firm head bumping against your clit as he rubs himself against you, âhappy?â
looking down, you watch his cock slide back and forth between your thighs, the friction making heat slowly rise in your core, warmth swarming in your chest. heâs so fucking big. you watch him, eyes half-lidded, your legs aching from the position, almost drooling from the sight alone.Â
you donât know how much longer you can let him tease you.
âso happy,â you nod, not tearing your attention from him.
âyeah?â he cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed, concentrating not to cum on the spot with the way youâre eating his cock alive just with your pretty little eyes, âyouâre gonna let a stranger fuck you?â
rafe reaches down, teasingly rubbing the tip of his dick over your folds, tracing it over your clit a few times. you look up, lips curling into the most earth-shattering smirk.âi can always find someone elâ"
you both groan when he slides into you with no warning, your warm walls enveloping him perfectly, sucking him in like a vice, a perfect tight fit. he pumps you so full, not waiting for any adjustment, your walls fluttering around his girth, thick tip slightly curved up from your position.
âfuck, fuck, fuckkk,â he drawls out, rolling his hips in tight circles, slowly fucking into you, dragging himself along your walls to learn what you like, âthis pussy, ohâso good.â
your head falls back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. you want him to let go and beat your walls loose, especially when he looks so good doing it. you melt into him, body sagging, downright losing it with how easily he holds you up and still pounds relentlessly into you, your breathing picking up with his change of pace.Â
heâs so strong.
âthis good enough for ya?â he murmurs against your ear, picking on the way your body shudders, a scream for anyone outside that door to hear, âhmm? you like my voice, right here?â
âyouâre gonna make me cum,â you feel yourself grip him harder, his thick cock stretching you open, dragging out moan after moan from your lips, âoh my god.â
itâs the sweetest torture, the way his pelvis smacks against your tummy with every thrust, barely even pulling out to roll back into you.
âsuch a fuckinâ slut, arenât you?â he growls, âletting a stranger fuck you openâholy shit, holy shit,â he hisses, almost as if heâs in pain, when you teasingly whine your hips back into him, fluttering at the low sound he breaths right by your ear.  âshit, youâre squeezingâfuck.â
âyouâre so b-big,â you wheeze at a rough thrust, hand coming down to press against his lower stomach.
âyeah? good enough for you, huh?â his hips increase in rhythm, rocking into you, his thrusts precise, beating against your g-spot with vigor, âtakinâ it so good baby.â
by now youâre seeing stars in your vision from the white-hot pleasure shooting up your spine, smart mouth forgotten, âharder.â
âharder?â heâs fucking into you at such a pace you feel like heâs gonna split you in half, âdonât think you can take it.â
âplease.â
it sounds too pretty coming out of your mouth. having a girl like you beg feeds his ego like nothing else.Â
he buries himself so deep, his pelvis is pressed hard against the hilt of your mound, fingers coming down to pinch and roll your neglected clit between his fingers.
âfucking take it then.â rafe snaps his hips with every word, glaring into your teary eyes.Â
you gasp, nodding your head frantically, too fucked out to even use your words properly when he bottoms out properly, leaving you entirely only to slam inside harder than before. you squeal, not expecting him to use his entire body strength to almost fold in half while youâre still standing.
âno one can h-hear you down here, go ahead,â your mouth runs dry as you feel his body helplessly pressing into yours, âlemme hear those pretty noises, câmon, scream fâme.â
youâve never moaned so loud in your life, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, him filling you to the brim, âw-where the fuck have you b-been?â
he chuckles, though it comes out strained, âright here,â he makes a point by ramming into your g-spot perfectly, âhold your leg up fâme.â
for once in your life, you do as youâre told while focusing on his clothed stomach, feeling it constrict with every deep breath he takes.Â
âyou look so pretty like this,â you hear him praise you, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, âcould fuck you for hours.â
the tip of his dick is kissing right against your cĂŠrvix, ânot stopping you.â
âyeah? thatâs how good is it?â he laughs, âcanât believe stranger cock does it for you.â
you open your mouth to speak, probably to give him shit about how he wouldnât stop teasing you, but your words run dry as you feel the familiar sensation of his fingers playing with your overstimulated clit. motherfucker.
your body tenses as he builds up the pressure, and a strangled symphony of your wails leaves your sore throat. itâs too much and not enough at the same time, the pressure of his cock as well as his fingers, heâs quite literally fucking you dumb.Â
ânothinâ to say now, huh?â
the better it feels, the farther gone youâre in your mind, âs-shut the fuck up.â
if you were with someone else, it would bother you that your tits are quite literally out while heâs still dressed, besides the jeans pooling by his ankles, but that stupid black wife beater looks mouthwatering on him.Â
somehow the outfit and the mask add to the allure, not knowing whoâs behind it, but still letting him treat you like a rag doll. youâre bouncing down onto him, almost sniffling as your pussyâs still twitching and soaking, so close to your well-deserved orgasm.
âcum inside,â your headâs starting to sting from how bad you need to cum,âplease.â
rafe swears he almost falls on his ass, âwhat?â
âinside,â you grit out, eyes closed in bliss, âwant to feel you cum inside.â
he lets out a groan at the way you say it, âare you serious? oh fuck, what a little cock-slut.â he canât help but let out a chuckle at your fucked-out state, lost in the chase of your own pleasure to care about how pitiful you look right now, âyouâre gonna cum around me? go on,â he coos, kneading at the flesh of your thighs.
you nod, slipping out a high-pitched âmhmâ, knowing this shit is about to hit you like a train. you arch yourself into him, whimpering lewdly and cutting small moon crescents into his shoulders with your long nails.
rafe feels like heâs lost all ability to fuck anyone else but you, growling at the filthy thoughts swimming through his mind, the urge to fill you up with his cum getting stronger as he enjoys watching you.Â
a strained whimper escapes you as you lean forward to bury your head in his shoulder, groaning against the skin, âdonât stop.â
ân-never stopping, câmon,â you swear you see stars while heâs slipping out curses and praises that youâre not even sure make sense. âholy shit, yeahh, fuck.â
he applies a little more pressure to your clit and thatâs all it takes for you to be gone, your chest touching his, blinding flashes of paradise filling your vision as you leave reality, having it ripped away from you.Â
your mouth is parted in the most beautiful oh shape heâs ever witnessed. tears are streaking down your eyes and he canât help but be turned on by them.
âoh! fuck, fuckingââ you squeeze your eyes shut, having no idea how you pulled the words out between continuous sobs that escape from you.
rafe feels like a fucking creep, he canât take his eyes off you for the life of him, hips snapping animalistically into your pussy while he grunts, groans, and cries as he talks you through it, âthatâsss itt, so good, so fuckinâ perfect.â
he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.Â
heâs chasing his orgasm while he watches yours; he all but whines when he releases inside of you, not slowing down in the slightest as he makes sure you take every drop. his hand comes down on your stomach forcing you back down with his python grip, feeling his bulge right there makes his eyes roll as his hand tightens on your waist. youâre still clenching and spasming as you milk him dry, âfuckinâ take it.â
his hips donât let up, grinding into your core despite him already finishing inside of you. for another ten minutes.
five minutes later, youâre both a little hazy from the endorphin rush, still processing. once he pulls away, rafe feels a lazy grin stretching across his face, feeling more satisfied than ever. unlike the past hour, the room isnât filled with your moans, but complete silence as you both try to breathe like normal people again, collecting yourselves, adjusting clothes, and then thereâs an unspoken agreement that maybe, itâs time to see whoâs behind the masks.
you fumble with the edges of the fabric, hesitating for a moment before finally pulling them off, unveiling each otherâs faces.
you freeze, staring at him in disbelief.
âyou gotta be fucking kiddinâ me,â you nearly burn a hole through his head, eyes narrowing with pure annoyance as you process this disaster, voice dripping with irritation, âwhat the fuck? rafe?â
heâs completely still, staring at you with his mouth wide open, eyes wide like heâs just seen a ghostâeverything youâre hurling at him is going in and out his ears. the realization that he just spent the last hour fucking you is making him dumber. the girl heâd been thinking about, dreaming about, wanting more than heâd ever admit, even to himself.
the anger in your eyes, the annoyed way youâre crossing your arms and glaring at himâitâs so perfectly you. heâs watched you in class a hundred times, always stealing glances when you werenât looking or cursing his ass off, catching little glimpses of your attitude that only made him want you more.Â
but heâd never thought heâd get a moment like this.Â
bless halloween.
âare you even listening to me?â you snap, catching his starstruck expression, waving a hand in front of his face. âhello? earth to cameron? stop looking at me like a puppy, this was a mistake.â
more than a mistake. you canât believe you just fucked the reason why you didnât want to come to the party in the very first place.Â
and the worst part is that youâd do it again.
âiâŚi justâŚwow,â he breathes, âitâs really you.â he lets out an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw âcanât believe it.â
you groan, rolling your eyes and shaking your head in exasperation. âare you serious right now?
âcan i eat you out?â
you blink, realizing youâve been staring, âwhat?â
he takes a step closer, filling the small space between you. you swear the sound of his next words drag a whimper from your throat, âcan i eat you out?â
you nearly choke to death as his hand ghost near your waist, the barest brush of contact, sending sparks dancing across your skin, âright now?â
rafe leans down to your size, eager to get on his knees and taste you.
âwhy not?â
well, fucking damnit.
dont go fucking strangers with ghostface masks at random parties
christopher smith (dcu) with feminine, afab, metahuman!reader. nsfw. you and chris were old fuckbuddies; he swings by and reminds you (with three orgasms) how good a fuckbuddy he was. + masterlist.
. . . the sound of your voice hits him like a truck as he goes through the voicemails left on his phone.
âchris, hey⌠listen, iâm a little bored right now and i was wondering if you could come over. iâve got a new set iâve been wanting to show you, anyways. call me back, babe.â
he doesnât hesitate to hit the play button again and again, just to hear the sultriness of your tone. just to imagine how you were probably lazily playing with yourself when you sent the message, fingers covered in your own slick as you half-prep yourself for him... between jail, the whole suicide squad business, and being in the hospital for five months, smith had forgotten all about you, his superpowered fuckbuddy.
his dick remembers, though, hardening half-way as he plays the voicemail back for a fourth time. briefly, chris wonders if you remember him.
only one way to find out, right?
. . . so now smithâs here, standing in front of your door. he knocks three times, then waits. thereâs some soft noises from behind the door before you open up. you look⌠different. older. hotter, he thinks.
âchristopher?â your eyebrows raise in surprise as you take him in. heâs changed very little from the last time you saw him; same old costume that he always seems to wear, same old overconfident and smug facial expression. at least heâs not wearing his silver helmet. heâs got more muscle on him than you remember, though. for several seconds, your gaze naturally settles along his biceps. then you force yourself to make eye contact with peacemaker.
the brunette just grins, leaning in your doorway. âstill bored?â
âwhat?â
smith only scoffs, as if you were being silly. âthe voicemail. i mean, i know you left it a while ago butâ câmon, canât be too late to cash in on some ass, right?â
your mind races as you try to remember the last time you called chris. itâs been⌠literal years. two, maybe three? four? you stopped reaching out when you realized he wasnât going to reply. and now heâs here, responding to a (probably desperate) voicemail that you left ages ago. âyouâre joking.â
heâs not. âi would never joke about wanting to fuck your brains out,â he says firmly, shifting some in your doorway. he adjusts his pants, which causes you to glance down briefly and⌠how is he already so hard?
you bite your lip, memories of what you and smith used to get up to flashing through your mind. even so, you shake your head no. âwe canât. i wonât, i mean. fuck off, chris,â you mutter, beginning to close the door.
chris is quick to keep the door open, however, using his foot as a wedge. âwhy the hell not? câmon, we had so much fun. remember that time on the plane? or behind the dumpster? or in my trailer?â
âiâve got a boyfriend,â you blurt, interrupting peacemaker from reminiscing further. you cross your arms in an attempt to be stern. âweâve been dating for a few months.â heâs a good boyfriend, too. it would be wrong to cheat on him. you couldnât sleep with peacemaker.
âyeah? we fucked for years,â smith hisses. he pauses before peering past your head into your place, looking around. âwhere is this guy, anyways?â
âworking.â you try pushing chrisâ foot out of the way so your door could close, but itâs a halfhearted effort. you shouldnât sleep with peacemaker.
ânot here? not pleasing you?â he asks, voice low. the brunette takes a subtle step closer to you, smirking. âcâmon. for old timeâs sake. he doesnât have to know.â his hands reach for your waist, his grip on you all too familiar. firm but not forceful; smith never forces you into anything. mostly because he never has to.
this time isnât any different. you scoff. you pretend that you donât miss him, too. you let smith inside, shame giving way to excitement as you feel him rub your lower back in approval. you were definitely going to sleep with peacemaker.
. . . it isnât long before the two of you are naked and fucking on the couch in open missionary. chris had insisted on âseeing your pretty faceâ since youâd been apart for so long. the whole thing is wordless; just grunts, groans, moans, and heat. so much heat. like an animal, he pounds into you with reckless abandon, stretching you out around his fat cock. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the airâ heâs rough, only because you have the durability to handle it thanks to your superpowers.
your orgasm comes first, surging through your body as you moan his name. the brunette on top of you finishes shortly after, groaning against your neck. he stays in for a second or so, kissing whatever skin he can manage to press his lips to, before sliding out and moving to stand. he gently pulls you up, chuckling at your confused expression.
âiâm not done with you yetâ been in prison for four years, sweetheart, with just my hand. iâm just getting started on this pussy,â he explains, dragging you along to your kitchen. with ease, smith lifts you up and sets you on your countertop. the cool sensation of the counter against your ass sends a shiver through your body, your toes curling briefly. âfingers or tongue?â he asks.
you can barely reply, still panting from your orgasm. cum dribbles from your quivering cunt down your thigh as you look up at chris through half-lidded eyes. your lips open to reply, but all you can manage is to keep panting like a dog. âah..â
one of his hands reaches for your hair, gently tugging back. peacemaker leans in as your head rolls, nosing your neck as if to smell you. you wouldnât be surprised if he was smelling you. heâs like an animal, sometimes⌠of course, right when you string a coherent thought together, beginning to come down from your orgasm, smith lifts his head. âcâmon, pretty girl, use your words,â he teases, biting down on the outer shell of your ear. he doesnât hold back, pushing his canine down on the flesh of your ear.
âfingers!â you yelp out, âfuck, fingers. fingers, chris.â
âatta girl. knew you could do it,â he laughs, pressing a kiss to your (now stinging) ear. âthereâs nothing you canât handle.â the brunette flashes a smile at you before lining three fingers up to your entrance. he pushes gently, slowly coating his fingertips with a mixture of your slick and his cum.
you squeeze your thighs shut, though, before he can slip his fingers all the way inside. âthreeâs too much,â you whine, gripping his wrist.
âbullshit. if you can take my dickâ which you did, and you did very well, princessâ you can take three fingers.â smith only has to wait a moment or so before you open your legs again. his three fingers line up to your entrance once more, rubbing gently along your cunt before slowly working themselves in. ânice and easy, see,â he murmurs as he pushes them in, grinning as you whimper. âyou got it, gorgeous. look at that, all three in, knuckle-deep, and no oneâs hurt. right?â
you look into his eyes as you nod, biting your lip. all you can focus on is the feeling of your cunt clenching around his fingers. chris was right in assuming you could take it; your pussy adjusts to his fingers rather quickly. it isnât long before you squirm a bit, searching for friction.
âthatâs it,â he coaxes softly as you start to fuck yourself on his fingers. smith leans down once more, this time pressing a kiss to your temple. he smiles against your skin as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. âfeel that? bet your boyfriend doesnât do it like this, huh? i bet heâs a fucking pussy.â
âchris,â you begin, only to be cut off by peacemaker curling his fingers, causing you to moan. you try your hardest to cling to your dignity, but itâs hard to do when your walls are clinging to peacemakerâs fingers. âchris, please.â
of course, he just laughs, pecking your lips. itâs amusing, the way you pout when he mocks your current boyfriend. arousing, too. the more frustrated you get, the more fun it is to make you moan. smith glances down at your chest, lowering his head to lick at your left breast. âand look at these,â he coos into your skin, âoh, iâve missed these tits. so beautiful.â he looks up at you as he begins to suckle on your nipple, tracing his tongue in circles before wrapping his lips around it and humming just to watch you squirm.
âfuckâ nghh,â you groan, back arching your breast further into his mouth. one hand of yours is holding chrisâ head, fingers tangled in his hair. the other is gripping the edge of the counter, cracking the granite slightly because you canât bring yourself to control your strength.
chris pulls back, leaving a saliva trail on your tit. he smirks before muttering, ârelax. youâre gonna break the damn counter, princess.â
âfuck off, chris,â you grit out, eyes closing for a moment. âfuck. câmon, make me come before i tear the damn counter out.â
hot. still, he canât resist the urge to tease you. âi dunno⌠itâs been years, iâm not even sure i know where your sweet spot is.â smith aims his fingers around for a few pumps, pretending to search. he slides his fingers in a little deeper each time, pressing around. âhere? maybe here? where is your little sweet spot, huh?â
your response comes in the form of a groan, your head rolling back as you rut into his fingers. heâs so close itâs infuriating, fingertips just barely grazing your prostate as he âsearchesâ. you tear up, letting out a whine of frustration.
the sound of you whining, as pathetic as it is, gets him to relent his teasing. âiâm just joking around. i could never forget how to make you scream,â chris finally admits, kissing your neck. he curls his fingers again, targeting your sweet spot, ramming his fingers against it and causing you to choke on your own gasping.
âackâ haahh, chris, fuck me, oh fuckâ chris, chris!â you moan out as your second orgasm rips through your body. itâs a warm wave that crashes hard, causing your eyes to roll back and your legs to twitch as you come all over his fingers. smith pumps for a few moments more, letting the squelching sound echo through your home before he pulls his fingers out.
âah, look at that. pretty little pussy, covered in cum. i bet youâd lick it off my fingers if i told you to,â he remarks, gently patting your thigh. smith waits until your eyes slowly make their way back over to him before he licks his fingers clean. âmmm, tastes so good,â he moans around his fingers, putting on a show only to laugh when you look away in embarrassment.
things go quiet between the two of you until you speak again. âchris,â you start, only to be cut off.
âwant round three, pretty girl?â
you swallow thickly. peacemaker shouldnât know you so well after all these years. and yet⌠âyeah,â you murmur.
the brunette grins, thanking god above for your super stamina. âanything for you, baby.â he scoops you into his arms, walking towards the bedroom. smith sets you down on the bed before laying beside you on his back. âwhich pillowâs your boyfriendâs?â he asks. when you point towards the left one, he rests his head on it. then he pats his thighs, âcâmere.â
you donât hesitate to crawl over, gently taking hold of his dick and stroking it a few times. you move to hover above his cock, lining yourself up before slowly sinking down on it. the action causes the both of you to moan softly in unison, a lustful harmony.
you rest for a few seconds before raising yourself up and sliding back down, beginning to ride him. all the strength you had left was being used solely to force him deep inside you. as if he were a toy, you stretched yourself out on him, moaning out his name as you force his tip to press against your prostate. your toes curl at the sensation, a heat building rather quickly in your lower stomach. more. itâs all you can think about as you ride him: more, more, moreâ deeper, harder, louder, hotterâ
âfuck, are you trying to get pregnant or something?â he groans out, teasing you as if he hadnât already came inside before. chris grips your hips, holding you still as he thrusts up into you. âbet you donât let your sissy boyfriend come inside, right? is that right, pretty girl? tell meâ holy fuckâ would you let him come in you like i do?â
âno!â you gasp out, feeling him press hard against your sweet spot. you grind yourself against him, your entire body running hot. the room feels like a sauna, and youâre sure youâre slick with sweat all over.
âbut youâll let me come inside this pretty pussy, wonât you?â smith goes on, fingernails pressing into your skin.
âyesâ fuck yes, chris!â
the room fills with sounds of sex as you and chris grow overstimulated and close to coming. words begin to fail you both. smith babbles a little, but itâs no use. soon enough, all that leaves your lips is just noises, raw and animalistic. he thrusts deep, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts. you can feel a familiar sense of pressure building up, causing you to whimper.
then, finally, you come.
it wrecks you. the first orgasm was rough, the second was harsh, but this one? it drains you of any energy you had left. you slump, your legs twitching around chris as you curl forward. the brunette slides his dick out of you clumsily, laying you down beside him. juices dribble down your thigh as he begins fisting his cock beside you, sitting up just enough to aim at your faceâ it comes out in thick ropes, splattering along your lips, nose, cheeks, and chin. he grunts as he comes, still pumping before crumpling beside you, panting like a dog.
âyou look so hot right now,â he says as soon as he regains the ability to speak, turning towards you with a grin.
if you had the strength, youâd slap him. instead, you stare at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. then, slowly, you turn your head to look at him.
âchris,â you manage, your voice breathy, âfuck off.â
2.4k ish words⌠yeah this is going on ao3. i think this is the longest thing i've written so far. lol. happy peacemaker s2 eve guys <3 iâm so excited i cld shit!!! there's like not a lot of peacemaker x reader stuff tbh which kind of surprises me? guess i'll have to populate the tag myself... i'll post vigilante hcs tomorrow for the new season but don't expect anything close to this thing (can i even call it a blurb anymore??).
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] â it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students, with very high libidos, and didnât want any random stds that this was a purely sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ Fratboy!Sukuna FWB Series ]
[ PAIRING ] â fratboy!sukuna x f!reader (college au)
[ TAGS ] â 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. fwb. angst. hurt/comfort. slow burn. fluff. spit. rĂĄw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family trauma. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
⎠pt 1 â sukuna is starting to toe the line
⎠pt 2 â shoko/utahime make u doubt your fwb label so now youâre desperate to prove them wrong
⎠pt 3 â cockwarming him for the first time
⎠pt 4 â his brothers visit unexpectedly
⎠pt 5 â pregnancy scare with sukuna
⎠pt 6 â sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you
⎠pt 7 â (coming soon)
⎠chp 1 â how this fwb thing started
⎠chp 2 â (coming soon)
⎠main masterlist ⎠ao3 âŽ
⎠ask tag ⎠music tag ⪠⎠tiktok tag
[INFO] â parts vs chapters: chapters is where the series story will start from the beginning and progress on, adding an a, b, and c plot and so on. parts exist in the same universe as small drabbles, before the angst blows up in their face. [ they can be read separately. ]
series taglist open ⎠comment on this post if you want to be tagged. age should be visible on your blog.
taglist is only for chps not parts â (art by @/to00fu, dividers by @/cursed-carmine)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
helpâźď¸ currently looking for a sukuna x reader college!au fic where theyâre lab partners but they become fuckbuddies bc they talk at a party and realise that theyâre looking for the same thing. one of the parts of the fic is abt the reader avoiding sukuna bc she thinks sheâs pregnant; another part is when the readerâs friends are convinced that thereâs more going on between reader and sukuna; another part is when sukunaâs younger brothers come and visit (yuji and choso) and they meet the readerâs friends are. PLEASE HELP ME FIND THIS FICâźď¸
You're such a bad influence on his sister, with your tiny skirts and tinier tops, always strutting around like you own the place. Where Sukuna's sister is meek and soft and quiet, you're loud, you're fiery, and against his will, hot as fuck.
You were always over, up in his sister's room. He'd come in, and you're lounging on her bed barely clothed or pampering her with makeup products, making her look nothing like the little girl he imagines her to be. You were too bold, and too wild, taking her to parties and clubs.
Sukuna was getting tired of being called to pick up his sister and you from a house party that ran too late, or a club or whatever it is you'd managed to drag her to. He was tired of hearing his friends rave about his sister's sexy best friend, tired of hearing them gush about how tight and wet you were after you let them fuck you.
You were shameless, you were annoying, you were... you were...-
"So fucking tight," Sukuna groans, pistoning into your warm heat, bending you over the kitchen counter. There's sweat on his brow, and his grip is tight on your hair, trying not to be affected by your soft moans, or creamy pussy sucking him in.
But how can he resist you? How can he not be curious, not want to get just a taste of that pussy that drives his friends wild? Sukuna lets go of your hair, palms roaming over your bare skin, groping at your soft tits and groaning low and deep.
"S-Sukuna- oh fuck, it's so good!" You whimper, sopping cunt clenching tight and milking his cock for all it's worth. You keep moaning like that, keep whining and crying with every harsh thrust of his cock inside you. Your legs tremble every time his balls hit against your clit, and if he looks down, Sukuna's sure he'll see a creamy white ring at the base of his cock.
He can't help it when he cums deep, dumping his hot load inside your pussy, gripping your hips so tight it bruises. His balls clench and his breath stutters as you follow suit, gummy walls clamping down around him and gushing.
Yeah, there's no way Sukuna is going to be able to stop fucking his sister's best friend now.
summary: clark has the perfect plan to get to know the love of his life. it consists of eight dates, eight carefully crafted steps, and if all goes well, a happily-ever-after. but when jimmy sets him up on a blind date with you, sticking to the plan turns out to be a lot harder than he thought.
word count: 21k (iâm so sorry⌠the plot was plotting)
warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, tooth-rooting fluff, comfort, banter, slight angst if you squint, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, slow-burnish, clarkâs pov, teacher!reader, readerâs in her late 20s, reader is shorter than clark, reader is skeptical of superman, kissing, cursing, miscommunication, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, doggy style, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie.
a/n: iâll admit i went a little off the rails diving into clarkâs head and writing from his pov. i really took my free will to the next level, but i hope i managed to capture him and his essence. special mention to @sai-int for helping me edit this fic!!! she was so supportive and kind, and made me feel like a professional writer <3 dear angel: youâre a mastermind, and iâm beyond grateful you took the time to engage with my work!!!
Over the years, experience has taught Clark that whenever Jimmy labels one of his ideas as brilliant, itâs usually the complete opposite.
Which is why, the moment he approaches his desk first thing in the morning, Clarkâs already saying, âNo. Thank you.â
âHello to you, too,â Jimmy notes, rolling his eyes and watching as Clark drops into his chair, adjusting his tie. âYou havenât even heard what I was going to say.â
âI donât need to, because I have the feeling it involves me in some type of way.â
âWell, aren't you smart?â
âIf smart means being your friend long enough to know you, then yes.â
Spreading his arms wide, Jimmy smiles as if he were a kid about to ask for a pony. âCome on, Kent! Youâre going to love this brilliant idea I had yesterday.â
Were there a hidden camera in the office, Clark would be staring straight into it right now, like they do in The Office. Instead, he just glances at Jimmy while unpacking his bag. âYour brilliant ideas are never to be trusted.â
âNow why would you say that?â
âItâs just that you always find a way to put me in the thick of it.â
âThatâs not true. Name at least one time something like that happened.â As Clark inhales to list a dozen examples, Jimmy stops him by holding up a finger. âNever mind. But you have to trust me on this one!â
Clark blows out his cheeks, peering up at him over his glasses. âAlright. What is it?â
âSo thereâs this girlââ
âHere we go again.â
ââwhich is totally your type.â
âYou said that last time.â
âBut this time I mean it.â
âYou said that the time before last time.â
âWell, Iâm not perfect, you know? Neither am I a certified matchmaker. This is a hobby, which I do out of pure affection for you.â
âI donât recall ever asking you to do this.â
Jimmy shrugs, inspecting the coffee Clark had set on his desk as if it belonged to him. âTechnically, you did. You said, and I quote: Oh, itâd be nice to have somebody. Iâm all alone. Iâm miserable.â He drops his voice into a deep imitation of Clarkâs, hunching his shoulders in an exaggerated way.
For the record, he hadnât exactly said it like that. Jimmy just loves being dramatic.
Clark clenches his jaw the moment Jimmy lifts the cup closer to his mouth. âBuddy, thatâs mine,â he mutters, though he makes no move to snatch it back.
Completely unbothered, Jimmy takes a trial sip, smacking his lips together as he drifts his eyes shut. âGod bless caffeine.â
Clark sighs, leaning back in his chair. âJust because you heard me saying it once doesnât mean I was explicitly asking you to get me a girlfriend.â
âI still wanna do it,â Jimmy argues. âIâm telling you, that girlâs out there, and itâs my duty as your best friend to find her.â
That last bit has Clark shaking his head. When put that way, what he wants sounds stupid, even childish. The whole relationship thing, falling in love. The white picket fence and the late nights in.
It had been around the time Jimmy introduced his current girlfriend, Molly, to both Lois and him that Clark found it all so endearing he actually snorted and patted his friend on the back.
They were at a bar, drinking with the ease of a Friday night, and despite not being able to get wasted, he felt tingly all over. Perhaps it was because the mere image of love was standing right in front of him, this time personified in a couple he knew.
âIt must be nice to be in a relationship,â he had mused, without meaning to say it out loud. It was meant to stay a thought, but it had slipped past his lips, and immediately three pairs of unrelenting eyes were scrutinizing him. âIâm sorry, I donât mean to ruin the mood. Iâm really happy for you guys.â
Lois, it seemed, had only heard the first part. âYou want to date?â
âSure. Why not?â
âAnd here I thought you werenât the dating type,â Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip of beer. âI mean, you never have any free time outside of work. Youâre constantly in a rush. In fact, Iâm surprised youâre even here tonight. How would you even manage to fit in a girlfriend with your schedule?â
In moments like those, Clark wished alcohol would have an effect on him. âIâd figure it out. But of course Iâd like to be with someone.â
If other people could have it, why couldnât he? In his mind, he deserved it as much as anyone else. Though again, he wasnât like anyone else. He wasnât even a person to begin with. He might look like one, but his DNA was far from normal.
As obnoxious as Jimmy was, and still is to this day, once he got something in his head, it was as good as done. âBabe, donât you have, like, a hundred friends who are single?â he asked Molly, intertwining their fingers, and she pursed her lips, thinking.
Molly ran a hand through her long red hair, toying with a specific strand. âA great deal.â
Jimmyâs gaze slid back to Clark, a smirk plastered across his features. âThen consider it done, mister. You may start calling me Cupid from now on.â
Fueled by desperation and maybe a little fear, Clark almost choked on his own saliva. âYou donât have toââ
âI want to! Itâll be fun.â Jimmy clapped a hand on Clarkâs shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. âYou leave it to me, and Iâll set you up with the love of your life.â
That night, promises were made, and days later, Jimmy had put together a PowerPoint presentation, each slide featuring a different woman, along with her job and hobbies.
In the end, Clark ended up going out with several of Mollyâs friends and work colleagues. One would think that, with this much help, he wouldâve had better luck, but none of those dates were of his liking.
The ones at the forefront of his memory were the following:
Alexandra: sweet, but her ex-boyfriend had cheated on her just two weeks before their date, and she was still in love with him. He spent the entire evening listening to her cry and handing her tissue after tissue. They decided to stay friends.
Casey: tried to convince him to take off his glasses, claiming they looked âunconventionalâ. She said she often wondered why natural selection didnât eliminate poor eyesight before glasses were inverted. He faked a call from his mother twenty minutes in and ran to his apartment.
Emma: claimed Superman was a government-made hologram designed to control and terrorize human beings. He didnât stick around to hear the rest of her theory.
Not just finding someone, but actually connecting with them, was becoming harder than heâd thought. Jimmy often tells him heâs too particular when it comes to meeting new people, although Clark doesnât consider being meticulous a flaw.
Years ago, heâd come up with what he believed was the perfect plan to get to know someone. It consisted of eight dates, eight carefully crafted steps.
Dates 1 and 2: Minimal physical contact. A handshake or a kiss on the cheek at most, but a first kiss that soon was off the table.
Dates 3 to 5: A real kiss was allowed, but nothing more. Hugging was fine. Still in the getting-to-know-her stage. Visiting each otherâs apartments was too risky, though small gestures were encouraged. Conversations could start leaning toward future relationship prospects.
Dates 6 to 8: Resist the temptation to go further. Make sure the other person was as invested as he was. If all is still going well by the eighth date, tell her the truth, and hopefully think about marriage someday.
The problem is that Clark has never made it past the first date with any of Mollyâs friends, and itâs starting to get on his nerves. How difficult could it be to find someone even a little like him?
Jimmy snaps his fingers in front of his face. âEarth to Clark. Whereâd you go?â
âSorry,â Clark says, pinching the bridge of his nose. âI canât believe Iâm even considering this.â
âI can always create you a Hinge accountââ
âWeâre definitely not doing that.â
Jimmy raises his hands in mock surrender. âAlright. But please, you need to trust me on this one. I have a really good feeling about this girl.â
Clarkâs expression sours, going poker-faced. âIs it because sheâs the last option you have?â
Jimmy clutches his chest, pretending to get offended. âYou always think so badly of me.â
Scowling, Clark sighs for the hundredth time this morning, and the clock hasnât even struck nine-thirty yet. âCan I at least see a picture of her?â
âNope. Itâs a blind date. Exciting, right?â
A crease forms between Clarkâs brows. âYou canât be serious. How am I supposed to recognize her if I donât know what she looks like?â
âThat sounds like a you problem,â Jimmy replies, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. âDoes tonight work for you?â
âWellââ
âPerfect. Iâm so glad youâre not busy saving the world or whatever. Iâll text you the details. And hey, if everything goes according to plan, maybe you can even tell her about⌠the thing.â
Clark hooks two fingers into Jimmyâs sleeve, tugging until heâs leaning down so theyâre eye-to-eye level. âWe said we wouldnât talk about the thing at the office.â
âI know. I just still canât believe it! Youâre Supââ
ââSuper committed to my job? Yup. Love it. Iâm a big fan of newspapers,â Clark interrupts, his voice an octave too high.
Across the bullpen, Lois asks, âWhat are you two whispering about over there?â
âSomeoneâs got another date lined up!â Jimmy chirps, now popping around behind Clark to give his chair a spin.
âPoor thing,â Lois says, crossing her arms over her chest. âI thought you were done with those.â
âMe too,â Clark mumbles, palming his cheek flusterdly.
Grinning, Jimmy adds, âI could help you next time, Lois.â
âIâd rather die alone, but thank you.â At that, she strides off, and Jimmyâs mouth downturns, resembling something that looks a lot like a pout.
Before strolling off toward his desk, he gives Clark one final glance. âJust imagine the double dates weâll go on, CK!â
Clark forces a smile to appease his friend.
Perhaps being single wasnât the worst fate after all.
While getting ready, he finds himself torn between restless anxiety and utter resignation. Itâs a strange combination, to say the least. Both feelings coexist tensely inside him, neither winning out over the other.
Youâre ten minutes late to the date, which isnât much, not really. After pacing the block twice, heâd arrived half an hour early to the restaurant Jimmy sent the location of, hoping nothing in the world would go wrong and force him to abandon the establishment and leap up into the air.
Already, heâs read the menu more times than he can count, memorizing each dish with its ingredients and price. He knows the chicken parmigiana comes with a chicken breast that can be topped with mozzarella, Parmesan, or provolone, and that the garnishâ
âClark?â
His head snaps up from the menu, and he sees you standing there with an apologetic smile, holding out your hand in greeting.
âHey,â he says, standing so fast his chair nearly tips. He grips your hand, enveloping it, and swallows like his throat has gone dry, suddenly parched. âIâmâYes. Hi. Hello.â
Golly.
Heâs temporarily lost the ability to speak coherently. No longer does he know which letters go together to form the words he wants to say. Itâs beyond incredible, the effect your beauty has on him.
You tilt your head, studying him before giving him your name. âJimmy said I should look for a guy who looks tall even when heâs sitting, but youâre way taller than I expected.â Your nose wrinkles immediately after hearing yourself. âThat sounded weird, didnât it? Sorry. I swear it sounded less awkward in my head.â
A nervous laugh escapes his throat. âItâs alright. Iâve been mistaken for Bigfoot a handful of times now.â
Usually, when he jokes, the response he receives is no more than a polite chuckle. Heâs convinced he has no sense of timing, no instinct for delivery, but now youâre genuinely laughing at what heâs just said. It feels authentic, and for him, thatâs unbelievable.
Then he realizes he still hasnât let go of your hand. He drops it like it burns, wiping his palms on his black slacks as he sits again, silently chiding himself for how much heâs sweating.
âIâm so sorry I arrived a bit late. I couldnât find a place to park.â You hang your purse from the back of the chair as you sit, the corner of your mouth quirking up. âDid I make you wait too long?â
Clearing his throat, he lifts the menu and waves it awkwardly. âI, uh, had plenty of time to learn all the dishes.â
âThen I suppose youâll have no problems ordering for me.â
Heâs left flabbergasted. âButâHow?â
âI like almost everything, thatâs why it always takes me forever to choose. Trust me, you do not want to be stuck here with me until closing,â you explain, lifting your shoulder in a half shrug.
A distorted echo of his own conscience cuts through his thoughts: who says I wouldn't want that?
Soon youâre talking, the conversation unspooling. You tell him youâve known Molly since primary school, and that when she initially asked if you wanted to go on a date with one of Jimmyâs friends, you turned it down.
ââSo I thought Iâd try to navigate the dating world on my own, but months passed without much success and I lost motivation.â You lace your fingers together, setting them neatly on the table. âThen Molly asked to meet, and this time she brought Jimmy, and⌠well, here I am.â
âIâm glad you didnât lose all your hope,â he rejoins before realizing the hidden meaning of his words. He steers away from that subject. âJimmyâs a pretty⌠chatty guy, donât you think?â
âHeâs great! Plus, Iâve never seen Molly this happy.â
âYouâre right. They look good together.â
âAnd he talked a lot about you. Said some very nice things.â
âDoes that mean you know more about me than I know about you?â
âMaybe.â Your eyes wander around the room before returning to his. âBesides, he paid me to be here, so this date better be a success.â
His expression falls. Thereâs a sudden tightness that creeps into his chest, and he canât help but blink owlishly. âWait, did⌠did Jimmy actually pay you?â
âIâm kidding!â you clarify, stumbling over your words as you lean forward, your knuckles brushing his across the table. His shoulders loosen, and he exhales. You continue with a soft chuckle. âThat was my best attempt at breaking the ice. I donât think Iâll ever be good at jokes.â
âIâm no better. Want proof?â
âGo on.â
âWhy are colds bad criminals?â
You lift your brows. âWhy?â
âBecause theyâre easy to catch.â
Propping your chin on your hand, you shake your head with a crooked smile. âThat was⌠terrible.â
âOh come on, you could at least pretend it was funny.â Clark laughs.
âAnd lie to you? Never.â
âYouâve crushed my dreams of following my true passion.â
â⌠Which is?â
âPursuing a career in comedy, obviously.â
Youâre laughing. Again. He thinks heâs never managed to make someone laugh this much in such a short span.
Once the laughter dies down, you offer up another question: âSo, you work at the Daily Planet, right?â
He nods. âMostly reporting. Some articles and interviews as wellââ
At that moment, a waitress interrupts before he can continue, carrying a notepad in her hands. After she finishes listing off tonightâs specials, he blurts out both orders: the same dish, because panic takes over. He then asks you to choose the drinks; you settle on water, and he echoes your choice without thinking.
Once the waitress is gone, you continue your thought. âIâve read some of your piecesâSome of the interviews with Superman, for instance.â
âOh.â He hums, with an air of shock.
âSorry. Youâre probably tired of people bringing him up.â
His pulse quickens in the blink of an eye. âNo, not at all. Itâs just that I sometimes forget people are meant to read what I write, you know? It still amazes me.â
âWell, youâve got an avid reader here.â Your lips curve knowingly. âSo⌠is he cool? Nice? Or does he think too highly of himself?â
That last part catches him off guard. He fumbles with the napkin in his lap, mindlessly tearing it into smaller pieces. âWhat makes you think that?â
You ponder, wrinkling your nose. âWell, when someone has that much power, itâd be easy to slide into arrogance.â
His voice, when it comes, is so subdued that he can barely hear it. âI believe he takes what he does very seriously. I wouldnât say heâs arrogant.â
You rest your chin on your palm, studying him. âHeâs not so fond of the media, though, right?â
âThatâs because some have chosen to distort his image.â
âI see youâre a Superman apologist,â you tease, tapping the table with two fingers. âSo tell me: if heâs not exactly approachable, then how did you manage to land all those interviews with him?â
In situations like these, Clark realizes heâs been taking air for granted. How do you know which buttons to push to make him sweat?
âI justâŚ. happen to be in the right place at the right time. Thatâs all.â
You give him a lopsided grin. âDonât be so modest! Give yourself some credit. Youâve given him a voice no one else has. I think itâs admirable.â
Thereâs a fleeting moment when he falls silent, partly blinded by your radiance. He feels as though he canât look at you properly while speaking, as if heâs staring straight into the Yellow Sun.
It seems almost unreal that youâre here, sitting across from him, breathing the same air, your shoes only inches away from his under the table.
Youâre beautiful. And heâs petrified of making the wrong moveâof saying the wrong thing and scaring you off forever.
âI wouldnât say weâre friends or anything like that,â he adds after a beat. âItâs strictly professional. He wants others to hear his side of things, too.â
He isnât too sure what he just said, too stuck on the fact that he could really be falling for you after knowing you for less than half an hour. It sounds absurdâGosh, it is absurd. That he knows for sure.
But what role does absurdity play when it comes to love? Arenât those the very things that canât be logically explained? The unreasonable acts?
Stick. To. The. Plan. You big poet.
Cutting off Clarkâs mental spiral, the waitress timely returns with both of your drinks, placing them carefully on the table. He takes a sip, the water cold and numbing against his throat, though it does nothing for the heat rising in his cheeks.
He sets the glass down. âAnyway, enough about me. Tell me something about yourself.â
âI teach,â you say, your tone softening. âPrimary and high school. For my older students, I focus mostly on literature.â
âThat sounds like a lot of responsibility.â
Your eyes brighten a little. âIt is. It can be incredibly exhausting at times, but I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. Teaching is my calling, you know? What Iâm meant to do.â
His lips quirk before he even speaks. âShould I confess then that I havenât read a fiction book in years?â
âHow are you still going on with your life?â You jest, taking a sip of your water.
âI manage just fine.â
âLucky you, I can recommend you something whenever you want.â Itâs like youâre half hoping for a denial, because then you clarify, âNot like Iâm forcing you or anything. Not everybody enjoys reading. Iâm only saying that if youâre interestedââ
Jimmy wonât believe it, Clark thinks, that he set him up with someone who overthinks their words just as much as he does.
His heart sings as he answers, âThatâd be nice.â
While you eat, Clark starts memorizing all these details that you mention, storing them in the back of his head:
Youâve trained yourself not to curse, thanks to all the hours spent surrounded by children, though every once in a while a bad word sneaks out, especially when you stub your little toe on the edge of your bed.
He learns that youâre not much of a drinker. Youâll take a gin and tonic every now and then, but you refuse to accept beer, wine, or anything too sugary.
As a kid, you dreamed of being a librarian, and you even worked in one through college.
When the check is paid and his cheeks ache from smiling more than he has in weeks, he insists on holding the door open for you as you step outside.
The moment he turns back, youâre holding your phone out toward him.
âIâd really like to see you again, if you want to,â you murmur, fluttering your eyelashes with a hopeful grin on your lips. âThink you canâWould you give me your number?â
His mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. His eyes gloss over you once more. âIâd love that. Of course. I mean, youâre great, and I thinkââ
A giggle escapes you as you perceive him to be just as nervous as you are, and you give the device a playful shove back into his chest.
He takes it, pressing each number with practiced delicacy while trying not to waste the little time you had left. He hands the phone back, rocking on his heels, searching for the right thing to do with his hands.
âIt was a good first date,â he admits at last.
The silence between you deepens, and then you say, âIâm glad I accepted Jimmyâs offer.â
âHeâll be all over me at work tomorrow.â
You beam at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. âTell him I said hi.â
âI will.â
Even so, thereâs a part of Clark that doesnât want to leave. He wants to know more about you, despite having already memorized all those little details you shared throughout the night.
You both have responsibilities, and he knows he canât ask for too much when youâve only just met, but he would stay up all night if it meant spending just a little more time with you.
God, heâs already in so deep.
You tighten your grip on your purse strap, slinging it over your shoulder. âOkay, then⌠bye. I guess Iâll see you around.â
You shift closer, rising on your toes, and judging by the way youâre tilting your head, heâs pretty sure youâre planning on kissing him on the cheek.
He suddenly remembers his plan, panic kicking in before common sense, his hand shoots forward to hold yours, stopping you.
Startled, you slip your hand into his, saying, âA true gentleman.â You give it a firm shake. âNoted.â
âSorry, I justââ
âDonât worry.â You offer him another one of your earth-shattering smiles. âGoodnight, Clark.â
He waves, and so do you, but neither of you moves right away. He gestures toward the sidewalk. âIâll go first.â
You take two steps backward. âYup. Fine.â
Needless to say, when heâs a block away and risks glancing over his shoulder, he finds you already looking back at him.
âI need all the details!â
âJimmy, I swear to Godââ
âYouâre entitled to tell me! I was the one who set you up!â
Clark shushes him, pressing a hand over his mouth. Theyâre right by the printers, and he flashes an innocent smile at a woman passing by on her way to the break room, concern flickering in her eyes.
âStop yelling, man!â Clark hisses, his gaze boring into Jimmyâs as he all but slaps his large hand over his mouth. âYouâre scaring people, and you haveâWhat the hay, dude?!â
Clark yanks his hand back, staring at his palm in disgust. His skin is wet and sticky.
âDid you just lick me?â Clark grimaces, wiping the saliva on Jimmyâs shirt. âHow old are you? Three?â
âI will not be silenced.â
âYouâre gross.â
âAnd Iâll continue to be if you donât tell me how it went last night,â Jimmy presses excitedly, giving a light punch to Clarkâs chest.
Clark sighs, looking around to make sure no oneâs eavesdropping their conversation. âI already told you it was fine. What else do you want to know?â
âDid you kiss?â
âWhat?! No!â Now Clarkâs the one yelling.
âRelax. Itâs not like I asked if you two reenacted the Kama Sutra.â
A rush of heat prickles at the back of Clarkâs neck. The newsroom feels stifling, and he tugs at his collar, aiming to keep his voice even. âWhy are you more⌠unfiltered than usual?â
âKissing isnât a sin, pal. Stop treating it as if it were,â Jimmy explains, and with a shake of his head, he drifts toward the coffee machine, leaving Clark even more confused.
He quickly follows after him. âBut itâs too early for a kiss. Weâve only been on one date.â
Steam curls from the machine as Jimmy fills his cup. The vapor fogs Clarkâs glasses, blurring his vision for a second.
âYou notice how you're trying to control the situation? Itâs like you want to structure every single thing,â Jimmy says, stirring in sugar, clinking a spoon against the ceramic. âYou need to just let it flow. See where it takes you. Forget about that stupid eight-dates thing.â
Taken aback, Clarkâs brows snap together. âI donât âgo with the flowâ. And my planâs not stupid. I just⌠put a lot of thought into it,â Clark laments.
âHow many times did you shake her hand last night? Five?â
âIn my defense, she did it first.â
âOh! Fantastic. Looks like Iâve found someone who matches your freakiness.â
Clark opens his mouth to argue, but the unexpected buzz in his pocket derails his train of thought. As his heart hammers, he fishes out his phone. His lock screen lights up with a new message from an unknown number.
He canât help the way his lips twitch upward, betraying him. Heâs been waiting all morning for this.
Jimmy leans in, trying to angle the screen toward himself. âOh, man. Is it her? Tell me itâs her.â
Clark pivots the phone away trying to use his size to his advantage, but Jimmy cranes his neck anyway, squinting at the text thatâs popped up:
I really hope you didnât give me a fake number last night.
Clarkâs thumb hovers over the screen, debating his next reply. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy remains grinning next to him, taking a long sip of coffee before nearly hollering, âRemember that sexting in public is gross!â
He walks away after that, and a few heads turn in Clarkâs direction as he jerks upright, almost dropping the device. âHeâs joking, obviously,â he sputters, his head bent. âIâd never do that. Youâre all⌠safe.â
Retreating to his desk, he sinks into his chair, hiding his face behind the glow of his phone screen. He creates a new contact under your name.
Clark: What kind of person do you think I am?
The typing dots appear right after.
You: I barely know you. Why should I trust you?
Clark: I canât think of any good reason right now.
You: Well, if you want to prove your identity, tell me the color of the jacket I wore yesterday.
Clark: It was blue⌠and you paired it with a black sweater and a pretty pair of earrings.
You: Your eyes do work wonders.
Clark: Itâs the glasses. They take all the credit.
You: But is your memory always this good?
Clark: Only on important occasions.
Your second date comes a few days later at a bookshop cafĂŠ youâve been meaning to try. Clarkâs determined to leave with at least one book under his arm, and after debating his choices with you, he ends up choosing Atonement.
Turns out you donât talk much. You mostly read, and yet the silence between you feels natural, almost familiar. Most people donât consider Clarkâs quiet nature much of a virtue, but heâs never seen it that way.
He thinks back to his parents on the Kent farm, sitting side by side on the porch. They wouldnât speak, only stare at the horizon, steady and unflinching.
He wonders if this is how they felt when they were younger, or how they still feel after so many years of being together.
Itâs too soon, and he knows it. Still, the thought lingers, stubborn as ever: if that kind of comfort was supposed to take years, why is he already finding it with you?
As with most things in life, Clark has always believed that something very good is inevitably followed by something very bad. After the date, a thousand excuses run through his head, all the things you could say to ghost him.
I donât think we really connected. Maybe we could just stay friends.
Actually, Iâm not single. I have a boyfriend and two dogs in another city, waiting for me to come home.
Youâre kind of boring, youâre relationship with Superman is concerning, and I never want to see you again.
All his doubts fade the moment you text him before going to bed, reminding him to send you his thoughts after finishing each chapter of the book.
The third date happens almost a week later, when both of you finally manage to carve out the time. Youâd mentioned a certain movie youâd been wanting to see, and now that it had finally hit theaters, Clark wasnât wasting the chance.
Youâve taken your seats in the designated theater. The movie, Materialists, wonât start for another ten minutes. Youâre devouring the popcorn he bought, tossing kernel after kernel into your mouth, while he steals a handful whenever you pause.
âI didnât know you liked popcorn so much,â he says, laughing softly at the way you pop them into your mouth.
âI love it, but Iâm starving, too.â
âGuess youâll have to survive on popcorn for now.â He stretches his legs, sinking deeper into the seat. âBy the way, whatâs this movie about?â
He can't tell you that he got these tickets online while he was in Europe just a few hours ago, and that's why he didn't have time to read the plot.
âA love triangle,â you explain, crossing one leg over the other. âI hope itâs good. Iâve heard all kinds of opinions.â
It starts off promising. When Pedro Pascalâs character, Harry, flirts with Dakota Johnsonâs Lucy at the wedding, he spares you a quick glance, noticing how your gaze is fixed on the screen. You partially cover your face each time they get too close.
About halfway through the film, thereâs a scene where Harry and Lucy start making out in his apartment. Itâs heated, and now Clark finds himself picturing doing the same with you, which isnât helpful at all.
The safest distraction, he decides, is eating. He dips his hand between the two seats, where the bucket of popcorn should be wedged.
Except it isnât there anymore. Somehow, in that moment, itâs gone, and instead of buttery kernels, his hand brushes against yours.
Driven by reflex, you jerk it away, nearly jumping in place. Clark turns to you, and an expression of perplexity settles on your features. A thousand thoughts race through his mind.
He wants to say heâs sorry, that he didnât mean to be so forward, that he was only reaching for the popcorn to derail thoughts of which you were the protagonist.
What he doesnât know, because that would require slipping inside your head, is that youâre forcing yourself not to turn and stare at him. Every so often your control falters, and you steal a glance from the corner of your eye, grateful for the excuse of being seated so you can drink in his profile unnoticed.
His nose, the soft fullness of his lips, the line of his chin. The way his glasses slip down and he pushes them back up, how the flickering scenes from the film ripple across the glass in short fragments.
Heâs everything you ever wanted, and more. Your friends would probably tell you youâre rushing, that you should be more objective, keep a cool head. But nothing feels cool beside Clark. Your emotions turn visceral, heat rises under your skin, and logic abandons you exactly when you need it most.
From then on, it all happens in slow motion.
Your hand goes back to the armrest, palm tilted upward, as though waiting for something from his side. He notices the faint creases of your skin, the twitch of your wrist as you squirm.
The most primal part of him aches to grab your face and kiss you until youâre breathless. But thatâs not something he can do, something he should do. It doesnât go according to the plan.
Instead, he makes the choice to take your hand deliberately. He intertwines his fingers with yours, no inch of skin apart. Warmth radiates from you, seeping into him where youâre joined as his thumb brushes along your knuckles.
Thereâs a moment when the movie fades into background noise for him, and he canât help catching every small disruption in the theater. A woman a few rows down chewing with her mouth open. A young couple kissing like the worldâs about to end. A phone that buzzes and refuses to be ignored.
And yet, the sound he picks out most clearly is your heartbeat as it drowns out the rest. It echoes in his ears so loud, so frantic, that he feels as if it belongs to him.
Clark tests his luck, as though this were an experiment, and squeezes your hand. The effect is immediate; your pulse stumbles, skips, and the rush of it startles him enough that his knee jerks, knocking into the seat in front and making a stranger yelp.
The man turns around in an instant, forehead wrinkled in annoyance. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?â
Clark swallows hard. He hadnât meant to hit him that hard. âIâm so sorry. I think I got a cramp,â he whispers, hoping that heâll take pity on him.
All he gets in response is a grunt, which sounds like a curse, but he couldnât care less.
He hasnât been this buried in work in months. If he had to lay the blame on someone, heâd have to call it quits and tell Superman heâs not doing any more interviews.
In other words: no more referring to himself in the third-person.
Defending himself against every critic and headline is one thing, but doing it disguised as a reporter is entirely different.
Heâs afraid the people who read his articles will eventually start thinking heâs losing his objectivity. But given the circumstances, and since Lex Luthor appears to be on every TV program calling Superman a filthy martian, itâs not like Clark can stay silent.
His stomachâs been growling for the past hour. Itâs officially lunchtime. He should put something in his body before hunger drives him to slam his keyboard against his desk, though the thought of abandoning the draft in front of him makes him itch.
Good gosh. Perhaps he should start writing under a pseudonym.
When he checks his phone, thereâs a message from you. Youâve got a long break between classes, and youâre thinking of grabbing lunch. The mere thought of food makes him fantasize about gnawing on anything remotely edible.
Clark: Think Iâll just skip lunch today. Thereâs so much I have to get done.
He sends the text without waiting for a reply, sets the phone down beside his computer, and goes back to work.
From behind his back, a hand waves a Pop-Tart in his direction, waggling it. A theatrical voice murmurs, âEat me.â
Clark lets out a laugh, swiveling just enough to see Steve smirking as he leans on the edge of his desk.
âIâm serious. Take it. You look like you need it more than me.â
âItâs fine, Iâll just eat later,â Clark retorts, rubbing at his temples and sinking back into his chair.
Narrowing his eyes, Steve says, âYou look stressed.â
âWell, I most certainly am.â
âIs it about all the hate your little friendâs been receiving lately?â
On any other occasion, were he not this tired, heâd have corrected him, insisting theyâre not friends. But today, he lets it slide. âItâs draining. Collecting all this information and thenâhaving to askââ
His own sigh cuts him off. Thereâs a weight pressing on his chest he canât shake, and he peers up to stare at Steve.
Steve bites into the Pop-Tart, chewing it with a thoughtful expression. âI wonder if this is the end of Superman.â
Clark tries to keep his voice level. He really does. âWhat?â
âI mean, heâs constantly being criticized. Sure, most people still like him, think heâs great, butââ
âHeâs not gonna stop helping others just because thereâs some⌠bald guy on TV who lives to antagonize him. His entire purpose on earth is to be helpful. Itâs what drives him. ItâsâHeâs not giving up.â
Startled, Steve tilts his head. âDid he tell you all that?â
Clark stammers, âHe didnât, but IâI know thatâs what heâd say if I were to ask him.â
After that, Steve appears to have decided to drop the subject, finishing whatâs left of his snack. Clark assumes thatâs the end of their conversation, which had been long enough to exasperate him anyway, even though he considers himself to be patient.
But thenâ
âSo⌠Iâve heard youâre going out with this girl.â
âYou mean Jimmy told you.â
Steve shrugs. âSame thing in my book. When are you seeing her again?â
Clark stiffens, stretching his arm to grab a pen and rhythmically clicking the end of it. âI donât know. Weâve both been busy the last few days.â
You? Busy teaching, preparing lessons, and correcting assignments.
Him? Busy juggling two lives. When he tells you heâs exhausted and heading to bed early, itâs often a lie. Later, youâll catch him on TV, throwing himself at some gigantic creature, and text him a picture of the screen: Unlike you, your friendâs not getting much sleep tonight.
âGot a picture of her?â Steve asks out of nowhere.
Studying him for a moment, Clark draws his brows together. âIâm not showing youââ
âKent,â a voice cuts through, calling his attention. Nino, the security guard from the entrance, stands a few meters away, and he looks irritated to have been sent upstairs. âThereâs someone waiting for you outside.â
Thatâs weird. âFor⌠me? Are you sure?â
âItâs a girl. Says sheâs looking for Clark Kent.â The manâs voice thickens with annoyance. âAs far as I know, youâre the only Clark Kent in the entire building, so unless youâve got a secret twin brother or somethingââ
Clarkâs already rising to his feet before the guard finishes. âAlright, alright. Iâm coming.â
He doesnât expect to see your face when the doors open and the rush of cooler air spills in. His heart jolts inside his chest as he steps toward you, and thatâs when it hits him.
He had actually missed you more than he realized. What stage of the plan was he in now?
âWhatâI donâtâYouâre here?â
âI texted you, but you werenât answering, so I figured Iâd just⌠drop by,â you begin, slightly breathless. âYou said you were skipping lunch, and I brought you food, andââ
Looking down, he catches a glimpse of the paper bag youâre clutching. The smell alone makes his stomach rumble in betrayal. âYou didnât have to.â
âI was getting something for myself as well.â
âButââ
You take one step closer, a grin tugging at your lips. âArenât you hungry?â
âDonât play that card with me. You know I am.â
That makes you laugh. âThen take this, and tell me if you like it.â You press the bag into his hands, and your fingers brush against his. Neither of you pull away. âItâs a sandwich and fries. I got myself the same thing, so Iâm counting on it being good.â
I missed you. I missed you. I missed you. I missedâ
âIâm sorry I didnât check my phone. I just⌠thereâs a lot going on at the moment.â His pinky hooks against yours, and you glance down for an instant. âI wasnât avoiding you or anything.â
Nodding your head, your eyes twinkle with something he canât describe. âI know. I didnât think that, and Iââ
You quiet down when a crowd of people interrupts your moment, the murmur of voices overlapping, making you grimace.
âI'd better be going,â you say, jerking your thumb toward the street. âMy next class starts in about half an hour, soââ
âMakes sense,â Clark answers, though his words donât match the way his throat tightens, wishing he could disappear into the crowd with you instead. He massages the back of his neck, scanning the sidewalk like heâll lose you if he looks away. âIâll head back inside.â
You sigh, shoving your hands into your pockets. âAnd Iâll go back to dealing with eight-year-olds.â
Would now be a good time to ask when he can see you again? The thought burns on his tongue, whenâ
âKent, are you coming in?â Ninoâs holding the glass door open with one hand, and he seems to be seconds away from letting it slam shut.
âRight. Sorry,â Clark murmurs, clearing his throat. âYeahâBye.â
He lingers until you vanish from sight before stepping back inside. The moment Jimmy spots the bag, heâs immediately smirking, but Clark walks straight past him, setting it beside his keyboard and reaching for his phone.
You: Want me to grab you something? Iâm nearby anyway.
You: Hello?
You: Well, now Iâm just getting you food.
You: Would it be weird if I dropped it off at your office?
You: Iâm trusting my instinct.
All the while he eats the sandwich, he canât stop beating himself up for not telling you how much heâd been wanting to see you. He rubs his fingers together, the salt of the fries clinging to his skin, and he gets the best idea heâs had in weeks.
Thereâs a chance Perry will scold him for leaving earlier than he should, but heâs willing to take the risk.
Hours later, he finds himself at a florist's, buying you flowers. He waits outside your work longer than he expected, watching as each child is picked up one by one.
Eventually, as the last of your students leaves, he watches as you descend the steps. Your face lights up as you catch sight of him.
âClark?â Youâre smiling now, walking faster. Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline when you notice heâs hiding something behind his back. âWhat is it?â
You reach out, but he dodges. âEasy there.â He thinks about teasing you a little longer, but the way youâre looking at him makes him weak in the knees, and he brings the flowers out from behind him. âThis is my way of thanking you for todayâs lunch.â
âOh my God!â you squeak, taking them into your hands. You bury your face in them, smiling wider. âThese are so pretty! Thank you, thank you, thankââ
Before he can react, your arms loop around his neck. Your chest collides with his, and he stumbles back, losing his balance for a brief moment. He circles your waist, lifting you off the ground. You laugh against his ear, the flowers brushing the back of his neck, while his nose sinks into your hair as he breathes in.
How is he supposed to go slow when being with you feels like a dream?
Thatâs it. Heâs gone. Completely head over heels for you. You could do anything to him, tear him apart and piece him back together, and he wouldnât even try to stop you. He canât understand how someone who was a stranger just weeks ago can now make him feel a hundred different things at once.
A month ago, if heâd seen you on the street, he wouldâve glanced twice and kept walking.
Today, heâs terrified of losing sight of you.
The hug lasts only seconds, but for him, it stretches into years. As he sets you down, he notices how close you are.
His breath comes unevenly as you curl your fingers into his tie. Youâre staring at him, deeply, though you make no move, and he offers you a crooked smile.
âI take it you liked the flowers?â he asks, his voice pitched a little higher than usual.
Your answer doesnât come in words, but in a kiss.
Your lips fit against his perfectly. The kiss is sweet, fleeting, and gentle. You pull away, and he follows your mouth instinctively. You throw your head back, laughing, so that heâs met with your cheek instead.
He noses your skin, eyes fluttering shut. âAre you free tonight?â
For the sake of his sanity, he counts both encounters as the fourth date.
Tonight, youâre having your fifth date. This event marks the end of stage two of his plan.
Everything feels like itâs moving too fast. He has to remind himself that sex is absolutely off the table for a fifth date, even if heâs stepping into your apartment for the first time.
âIt wonât happen.â Heâs talking to his own reflection now as he fixes his hair on the mirror. âYouâre strong. Youâre⌠committed to the plan.â Tapping his finger into the glass for emphasis, he says, âStick to it. Think about the final outcome.â
This plan wasnât something he came up with overnight. Its roots go back to when he was sixteen, when his friends first started dating and fumbling through romanceâa life he thought was reserved for everyone but him.
Clark believed he was a danger to others if he wasnât careful. For the longest time, he smothered every feeling that even brushed against love, locking it away before it could grow. He was afraid of hurting someone.
He never quite stopped feeling like an infant in the body of a man, learning his limits piece by piece. He knows he has two arms and two legs, two eyes and a mouth. He knows that when he grips something, it stays there.
But then there are the gifts. The strength, the senses, the heat in his blood; powers he never asked for, but could never escape. With Ma and Paâs help, he learned how to live with them, though the process was frustrating, sometimes terrifying.
At the age of seventeen, he didn't know what was destined for him. He was just a boy who wanted to hold a girlâs hand without worrying about burning holes in the ground with his heat vision.
He always knew his life would be complicated. He knew finding someone who could stand beside him, someone willing to accept his calling, would be nearly impossible.
Thatâs why he couldnât just let things happen. He didnât trust fate. He didnât want to wait for love to stumble across him by chance. He had to find it, not wait around for fate to find it for him.
His phone rings, pulling him from his thoughts, and he realizes heâs been standing in the bathroom for almost five minutes. He accepts the call without checking the screen.
âHello?â
âWell if it isnât my favorite lovebird. How are you doing?â
âJimmy, Iâm leaving in ten minutes. Be quick.â
âAre you nervous?â
He is, but Jimmy doesnât need to know that. âWhy would I be?â
âYouâre finally getting laid!â
Clark stops buttoning up his shirt. âWait. What? Why are you even saying this?â
âBecauseâarenât you going to her place?â
âYeah. And?â
âWell, do the math, dude!â
âYouâre trespassing all my limits. Please, Jimmy.â
âLook, itâll do you good. Even Superman needs to copulate sometimes.â
âCopulate?! I donâtâThatâs it. Goodbye, Jimmy.â
The state in which he arrives at your apartment is far from what heâd hoped. Hair toussled, cheeks pink with windburn.
His hand trembles slightly as he knocks, checking his phone for the fifth time to confirm the hour. Heâs not early, nor is he late, but right on schedule.
Heâs really doing this, standing outside the apartment of the girl he fancies. He tells himself itâs simple: come in, talk, share dinner, leave within the span of two hours. Easy-peasy.
Only nothing about this feels ordinary. One single line of his plan wonât leave him alone, and it flashes every time he closes his eyes: visiting each otherâs apartments was too risky. Now, with his pulse racing and nerves gathering tight in his chest, he knows exactly why he wrote that.
Dear Clark from the past: you were wise beyond your years.
When you finally open the door and invite him in, he has to remind his lungs how to work, forcing in a breath. Crossing the threshold feels less like walking into a room and more like stepping into uncharted territory.
His eyes roam over the portraits on the wall, the small decorations, the ceramic sculpture of a dog perched on a shelf. It hits him only then how desperately heâs been avoiding your gaze.
âYou have a really nice place,â he murmurs at last, forcing himself to turn back. It would feel wrong not to.
You surprise him with takeout from a place heâd mentioned once in passing. They sell these wraps you can customize to your liking, and he doesnât remember ever telling you his exact dream order, but youâve nailed it anyway.
His has pulled beef, cheese, and a rich dressing that overshadows every other flavor. Salsa slips from the edge of the wrap, trickling down his chin as he takes a big mouthful, and you laugh, cheeks full, still chewing.
âWhat?â he asks, the word muffled, and itâs almost as if heâd momentarily forgotten the first rule of table manners his parents had taught him. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, a clumsy but effective maneuver to deal with the greasy mess on his fingers.
You sip your water, pressing a napkin to your lips. âSince when are wraps so messy to eat?â
âMineâs about to explode, but itâs worth it,â he replies, and you nod.
You lean back in your seat, scratching your chin in thought. âHey, remember the other day you said you were staying late at the office?â
Clark hums, his eyes fixed on his wrap. Better to stay absorbed in his food than risk betraying the truth. That he hadnât spent his Wednesday night typing, rereading the same sentences until they blurred into nonsense.
âDid you manage to finish that article?â you ask, now resigned to using a knife and fork instead of wrestling with your wrap.
âOh, yeah. I just⌠had to check some minor details with⌠my source,â he says, hoping the conversation wonât make the food turn in his stomach.
Lifting your fork, you point it at him. âLet me guess. Does his name start with an S and end with -man?â He doesnât bother answering, because it isnât necessary. âDonât even say it. I already knew I was a mastermind.â
âHe told me all about his fight with the Kaiju,â Clark tries.
You chew slowly on a carrot, thoughtful. Your gaze narrows on him. âDo you agree with everything he does?â
Clark nearly bites his tongue. âWhatâwhat do you mean?â
âWhen youâre writing about him, quoting him, making references to all his rescues, donât you ever feel like⌠maybe your opinion might differ from what he did? That you might disagree with his actions?â
Why did it feel like tonight you were the journalist and he was the one on the record?
âI get what youâre saying,â Clark answers, straightening in his chair. âBut yeah, I agree with what he does.â
You arch your brows. âWith every single thing? Really?â
âI wouldnât interview him if I didnât.â
âI donât believe you.â Your tone is teasing, playful, but under it runs a thread of sharp skepticism. âThereâs gotta be something about him you donât like.â
Clark pretends to think, then shakes his head. âNot that I can remember.â
You ball up your napkin and toss it at him, laughing. âCome on!â
âWhat?â He catches it and tosses it back with no real effort. âIâm being honest. He gets me exclusives, front page spots. Whatâs not to like about that?â
You click your tongue and wave him off. âSee? Youâre biased. Youâre not thinking straight. If you were, youâd find something unlikeable. Everyone has flaws.â
Clark attempts to shift the focus of the conversation. âSo does that mean Iâve got something you donât like about me?â
You bite your lip, glance up at the ceiling as though calculating. âYou could say that.â
His interest sparks immediately. âWhat is it? Now I have to know.â He scrapes his chair across the floor until heâs sitting at your side, facing you directly. âYouâre not getting out of this.â
âIâm not roasting you for free!â
âIâm literally asking you to!â
âClarkââ
âIâll just keep going until you break,â he teases, leaning in closer. âYouâll get tired of me eventually.â
With him this near, your eyes betray you, flicking from his gaze to his mouth before you catch yourself. Clark notices. Of course he notices. He watches as you squint, weighing whether or not to give in to his persistence.
Finally, you decide to, because the next thing you say is: âYou never question him, not even once.â
He had been waiting for you to say something untrue, something easy to laugh off. But your words catch him off guard. He leans back slightly, needing that extra inch of distance to really look at you.
Your gaze softens as if you regret pushing too far. Rising from your seat, you gather both your plates and glasses. âIâm sorry. I was justâI was joking. You know Iâm terrible at that, right?â
Youâre trying to dissolve the tension, to make it vanish into the clatter of dishes. He canât blame you for it.
âYeah, now I remember,â he says quietly, watching the curve of your shoulders as you walk toward the kitchen. âPlease, never give up teaching.â
He trails after you. Youâre at the counter, cutting squares of the brownie you baked earlier. You take the first bite, humming at the rich taste as your foot taps the floor, and he canât stop watching the way your face relaxes with delight.
âGood?â he asks, folding his arms. Despite your recent exchange, he canât avoid getting lost in your beauty.
Itâs a fact that you always look pretty, but tonight thereâs something different he canât quite place. Maybe it has to do with the way you carry yourself, more at ease, a little less preoccupied.
Youâre glowing, and it has nothing to do with a physical change, but with something harder to name, something more intimate.
You answer his question with a small, âYou have to try it,â and then youâre holding out a piece to him, the same one youâd bitten into seconds ago.
His eyes flick to yours, then down to the brownie, then to your fingers, and back to you.
âCome on,â you insist, swaying the piece a little. Your tongue darts out to lick the chocolate at the corner of your mouth. âI swear itâs not poisoned.â
This is the end of him. Who wouldâve thought, out of all possible scenarios, that heâd die right here in your apartment?
He inches forward a little, carefully biting into the brownie, hyper-aware of how close his teeth are to your fingers. He braces for you to look away, to break the tension, but you donât, and neither does he. His gaze stays locked on yours as he literally eats from your hand.
Donât get hard. Please, just donât.
âItâs⌠delicious,â he manages after a beat, clearing his throat. âCan you make, like, a whole batch for me?â
Rolling your eyes, you say, âSure.â You finish the last bite yourself, brushing crumbs from your fingertips. Then your brows knit together, like a thought just struck you. âBy the way, howâs Atonement going? You like it so far?â
He scrambles in his mind for the last place he left off. âI reached the part where Robbie and Cecilia are⌠well, you know.â
âYou mean the library scene?â
âYeah.â
âThey recreated it so well in the movie. I still remember it to this day.â
âI had no idea there was a movie.â
âItâs from 2007. We should watch it someday⌠or perhaps tonight?â
Thereâs no way heâs surviving you, not with the way youâre looking at him now, the way youâre leaning back. You tilt your head to the side, the movement shifting your shirt just enough to reveal the faintest strip of skin. His breath catches before he can stop it.
Your lips part slightly, as though youâre about to speak, but the silence stretched instead.
âDarn it,â he mutters under his breath, and heâs sure youâre about to ask what he said, but you never get the chance, because he cups your face and kisses you.
His mouth crushes onto yours, and it takes you a few startled seconds to catch up before you melt into it, fingers clawing at the collar of his shirt to drag him closer. You climb higher, nails raking against the sensitive skin at his nape, and he shudders under your touch.
Without drawing away, he makes a sudden movement and lifts you onto the counter. Your lips break apart for just a gasp, and youâre immediately tugging him back down, kissing him harder.
As your tongue slides against his, a moan dies on his throat, caressing your hips through layers of fabric. He can even taste the chocolate from the brownie you both just shared.
Your legs part instinctively, and he looms forward, fitting himself between your thighs. You feel the unmistakable hardness against you, and the sound that escapes you is closer to a whine. Hooking your ankles around him, you lock him there, grinding just enough to drive him nuts.
Any other man in his shoes would be floating. Ecstatic. But he isnât, not fully, because beneath the fever of it all lies the stinging edge of guilt.
Heâd sworn to himself he wasnât here for this, that it was too soon. Heâd promised. Yet what you two are doing couldnât be further from just talking.
The back of your head bumps against the cabinet, making you wince, and instantly he adjusts, pulling you tighter into him, angling your body until youâre practically perched on top of him.
His senses are overstimulated, beyond heightened. He swears he can hear the rush of blood in your veins, the frenzied beat of your pulse. Outside, cars pass, sirens wail, horns blare. Tires screech against concrete, and voices rise and fall.
He presses his hand more firmly to your skin, needing to feel the weight of flesh beneath his palm to remind himself that this, what heâs living right now, is real.
Heâs here with you, though at the same time he feels like he's everywhere all at once.
The moment your hand slides even an inch lower, this will all be over too fast. He canât stay still. He canât think, because doing so would mean putting a stop to this madness. And the truth is, he doesnât want to. He knows he made a vow to himself, butâ
Your phone starts ringing somewhere down the hall. Your room, or maybe the bathroom. Once his ears catch it, itâs not like he can unhear it. That insistent sound drills through everything.
His hands freeze at your sides, his voice coming out rough. âI think your phoneâs⌠ringing.â
Between kisses, you reply, âI donât care.â
âWhat if itâs important?â
âIâm sure itâs not.â
âBut what if it is?â
Finally, you break away, drawing in a long breath. His lips chase yours for just one last kiss before he moves aside to let you slip down from the counter.
Clark takes a step back. The second youâre gone, heâs leaning back against the wall, his head thudding against it. He drags in a shaky breath, noticing how fogged his glasses are, and then his eyes peer down at the front of his tented pants.
In a rush, he drops onto the couch, grabbing the nearest cushion to shield his lap, shifting uncomfortably as he adjusts beneath it. Even though his cheeks feel warm, the guilt burns worse than the ache.
You come back with your phone in hand, shrugging, and you drop it onto the table. âWrong number. Told you it wasnât important.â
Sinking onto the couch beside him, your gaze flickers down before you can help.
He drags a hand over his face, desperate to find a way out from your unrelenting stare without having to meet it. âPlease, just ignore it. Itâll go down. Eventually.â
âClark, itâs normal.â
âThat doesnât make it any less mortifying.â
âI actually feel flattered.â
Silence envelops you both. He can feel himself relaxing.
Then you speak again. âIâm sorry. Was that too much?â
His head jerks toward you. âWhat do you mean?â
âLike⌠the kissing. I feel like I got carried away.â
âI didnât think you were too much. IâI liked it,â he admits, scratching the side of his nose. âI think you were able to see that clear as day.â
That has you exhaling a breathy laugh, and he tries to shake off the discomfort weighing down on him.
Thereâs a question he knows he should wait to ask you. It's been playing in his mind, formulating itself at odd hours of the day. Normally, he's able to suppress it, to file it away in a mental junk drawer, but he must be too affected to tell right from wrong.
âAre you seeing someone else?â
âNo,â you answer quickly, a puzzled frown on your face. â⌠Are you?â
âNo.â He also shakes his head to make his answer more emphatic. âBut would you want to? See other people?â
âOh, no.â You keep quiet for a moment, your lips pressed into a thin line. âWhy are you me asking this? Do you want to?â
He snorts. âGosh, no.â
âItâs always a possibility.â
âTrust me, it isnât.â
âYou could want to explore other connections.â
âAre we on Love Island?â
âYou get what Iâm trying to say.â
In fact, he does. Sliding the cushion back where it belongs, he turns to face you. âI like where this is going.â
What heâd meant to say was: I like you. He only reformulated it at the very last second.
The next time you kiss him, itâs different. Slower, softer as your nose brushes his, and he wonders if heâs still in control of the plan.
You wake up with the flu on the day you were supposed to have your sixth date.
You: I mustâve gotten it from one of my students.
You: I feel like crap. Iâm so sorry, I really wanted to see you :(
Clark leaves the sentence he was typing half-written, fingers abandoning the keys. He pushes his chair away from the desk with his feet, staring at his reflection on the phone. The white glow of the computer screen casts shadows across his jaw and under his eyes.
Clark: At least let me cook for you.
You: Nooooooo!!!
You: I donât want you to get sick.
He wishes he could tell you that you're not passing him any germs; not today, not ever.
Clark: I wonât stay for too long.
Clark: I know a soup recipe my mother taught me. I haven't made it in a long time.
That should be enough to soften you.
You: AlrightâŚ
When night comes around, heâs in your kitchen, chopping vegetables on a wooden board. The TV hums faintly in the background, interrupted every so often by the sharp sound of you blowing your nose.
The soup is simple, just as itâs always been. His Ma used to make it for him whenever he was sulking as a boy, a cure for bad moods as much as for colds. He only hoped his came close.
Steam curls upward as the vegetables start getting tender, and he keeps one eye on the pot while stirring. Youâre standing beside him, watching the procedure.
âIâm sure it smells great,â you mumble, congested. âI mean, I wouldnât know, but it looks like it does.â
Clark lowers the heat, sets the spoon down. His thumb grazes your cheek before he pulls you into his chest, whispering, âCome here.â
You let out a disapproving sound, but your body doesnât offer any resistance as he hugs you. âYouâre going to end up catching what I have.â
âNo, Iâm not.â
âThatâs how contagious illnesses work.â
âTurns out Iâm the exception.â
His arms wrap around your shoulders, palm smoothing circles into your back. You lace your fingers behind his waist, muffling your face against his shirt with a pleased noise.
âYouâre so warm,â you say groggily, like you might fall asleep standing there. He kisses your forehead and goes back to stirring with one hand, not letting you go.
Later, after youâve eaten and declared that the soup made your stomach feel simultaneously more full and leagues better, you put on a random movie to pass the time. Clark actually tries to follow the plot, but you donât.
Your attention keeps drifting toward him, more interested in the man sitting beside you than in the film.
âYou never take them off?â
âTake what off?â
You say it like itâs obvious. âYour glasses.â
Subtly, he adjusts them out of pure instinct. âI canât see much without them.â
âHave you ever tried contacts?â
âOh, no. My eyes are too sensitive for that.â
âEverybodyâs eyes are, in fact, sensitive.â
âI canât handle them,â he insists, shrugging. âThey feel weird.â
Another minute passes without you uttering a word.
But you wonât drop it. âCan I try them on?â
âSome other day. Theyâll make your headache worse.â
Blowing out your cheeks, you hug a cushion to your chest, propping your chin on it. âYou keep talking to me like Iâm a child.â
He picks up the remote to pause the movie. âIâm just answering your many questions.â
âCuriosity is one of my best traits.â
âI know.â
âWhich is why I keep wondering why Iâve never seen you without your glasses.â
âBecause I wouldnât be able to make out your gorgeous face without them.â
âTouchĂŠ.â You lean against his shoulder, stifling a yawn. âLetâs save this debate for another night.â
âWant to call it a day?â
âNo, I can stay up for a little longer.â
Your eyelids end up betraying you ten minutes later, fluttering shut as your head tips against him, your body pressed firmly into his side.
By the time the credits roll, youâre fast asleep. He takes a slow breath, carefully gathering your frame in his arms, and you stir just enough to mumble something about being fine, but you donât fight him when he carries you to bed.
Clark sets you down gently, covering you with the blanket, smoothing it over you and tucking it along your shoulders. You sink deeper into it with a soft sigh.
âClark?â
âTell me.â
âThereâs a spare set of keys on my nightstandââ
He freezes. A key? Sixth date. Sixth. Date. What does this mean?
ââso you can lock the door on your way out. I donât want to get up anymore.â
Sinking to his knees, he lingers at your bedside for a moment. His hand hovers before caressing your cheek, and then he gives a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
You try to hide from his gaze, but itâs nearly impossible. You bury your face into the pillow. âStop looking at me like that.â
Clark canât help the smile tugging at his lips. âLike what?â
âLike Iâm dying and you donât have the cure,â you mutter, peeking through one eye. âI know I look bad, but donât make it so obvious.â
His brows knit in concern. âYou donât look bad at all.â
Attempting to shove him away, you lift a hand from under the sheets to push at his chest, though he doesnât budge an inch. âOh, youâre too sweet.â
âI mean it,â he says, voice steady, eyes holding yours. âYouâre beautiful. Canât you see it?â
The certainty in his words makes your smile falter. You donât miss the confidence in the way he stares at you, the weight behind his honesty. In a sudden urge of truth, perhaps fueled by your discomfort, you ask him, âWhere have you been all my life?â
He canât think of anything clever to say, because heâs afraid of making a false move.
âWhy donât you try to get some sleep, huh?â His lips brush your forehead again, this time scattering delicate pecks across your skin. âIâll call you in the morning to check on you.â
You nod, surrendering to exhaustion, your eyes fluttering shut as your body relaxes. âDonât forget to call me,â you whisper, rolling onto your side to fully face him, curling against the sheets.
He huffs out a quiet laugh. âI promise I wonât.â
When he rises, he stills, watching you without realizing it. Your face has softened into pure calm, the rise and fall of your chest unchanging, your lips parted in a quiet breath. The sight disarms him.
âWhat are you doing, giving me your keys?â he whispers into the room, as if someone might answer.
He finds them right after that, not daring to make noise, and only exhales once heâs outside your apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.
His first loss shouldnât look like this.
As he plummets from the sky, body tossed by the Hammer of Boravia as if he were nothing but a ragdoll, Clark tries to frame the fall as a lesson.
All heroes who wear capes face a moment they donât win. They fall, they falter, but they always get back on their feet.
Sooner or later, that would happen to him, too. Just not now.
Heâs driven into the ground once more. He canât stop it this time, canât even shift the angle, so he braces himself for whatever comes. His back collides with the pavement, and it shatters beneath him.
The debris pulverizes into dust, thickening the air, and it scrapes his lungs as he breathes. Heâs got a rib, maybe two, fractured. Heâll have to check at the Fortress.
All around, screams erupt and people scatter. Heâs 99% sure no one got caught under him. A burst pipe sprays water across one side of his suit, and as flexes his wrist, he tries to mask the pain and fails in the process.
Tiny voices start murmuring all sorts of things. Even tinier shadows edge closer.
âIs he dead?â
âHe canât die, you dummy.â
âMy dad said he could beat him up.â
A little girl points straight at him, her tone squeaky with awe. âARE YOU THE REAL SUPERMAN?â
Blinking slowly, Clark realizes theyâre all wearing the same clothes.
Itâs a school uniform.
He crashed outside a school. Fantastic.
âKids? What did I say about not overwhelming him back in the classroom?â
Is that your voice? Maybe heâd hit his head harder than he thought.
âBut Missââ
âNo buts. Move a bit further away. Give him some air.â
Oh, God. Itâs definitely you.
He attempts to sit, but the pain rips through his ribs, pulling a wheeze from his chest. His vision steadies in flashes, until finally, there you are, standing at the edge of the crater, eyes wide.
From high above, the Hammerâs deep voice pours into Clarkâs ears, saturating him.
The United States will continue to feel the wrath of the Hammer of BoraviaâŚ
âAre you okay?â Your soft voice cuts through the chaos. You descend through the debris, your focus seemingly fixed on helping him. Even though the crowd swells around the scene, youâre the only one moving. âCan you stand up?â
When he looks up, the sights hit him. Dozens of phones are raised, their lenses all aimed at him. Clark swallows, hearing the strain in his own voice when he manages, âMaâam, youâve got to get out of here. Itâs not safe.â
You shake your head, determined, and you offer him your hand. He takes it, barely, and with your help he staggers upright, your shoulder slipping under his arm for support.
The absurdity of it all. You've been in this exact position before, only last time he wasn't wearing the suit.
The Hammer speaks again, hovering high above, his voice reverberating across the city. âThis is your last warning,â he roars, vanishing into the sky, leaving the street shaking.
Clark's instincts urge him to follow him, to continue the fight. But heâs too weak, and as he intends to move, he collapses again, groaning as if his entire bodyâs crumbling with every effort.
âDonât force yourself right now,â you scold, slipping an arm under his to steady him. âYou canât⌠fly in these conditions.â
Of all the people to see him like this, it had to be you. His luck is unbelievable.
The crowd begins to thin, and by the time you help him to a bench, fewer eyes linger. The city seems eager to swallow the moment whole and move on.
Another ordinary day in Metropolis.
He presses a trembling hand to his side, each breath stabbing his ribs as they expand. You stand in front of him, arms folded, watching him closely without taking a seat.
He needs to recover fast, but his strength keeps slipping away.
âSo⌠Superman in the flesh,â you say, tilting your head. âFunny thing. I know someone who knows you.â
âYouâll⌠have to be more specific than that,â he murmurs, keeping his gaze low, afraid the dizziness will swallow him if he looks up.
âClark Kent,â you reply, tipping your chin up. âHeâs myâwell, it doesnât matter.â
That makes him tense, pulling himself upright despite the pain. âYour⌠what?â
âWeâre seeingââ You stop, narrowing your eyes. âWait. Why do you care?â
If he werenât certain the laugh would tear his ribs apart, heâd laugh at the absurdity of it all.
He ignores your question, his gaze drifting past you to the school. Children are filing back into their classrooms. âI wouldnât want to take up more of your time,â he says quietly. âYour students must be asking for you.â
You follow his line of sight, then back to him, your brows knitting. âI donât know if youâll find this disrespectful, butâmaybe you shouldnât have done that thing in Jarhanpur.â
Itâs the last thing he needs. Pain gnaws at his body, but the sharper sting comes from hearing you dissect his choices to his face.
He pushes himself up, almost limping, his hand dragging across his shoulder. âThank you for the constructive criticism, maâam. But I have to go now.â His eyes catch yours for just a beat.. âStay safe.â
Then heâs gone, vanishing into the sky.
When he checks his phone hours later, he finds a message from you waiting for him.
You: I think now Iâve got beef with Superman. Call me?
Clark gets Jimmy a last-minute birthday gift. A dumb, cheap disposable camera despite the fact that he has tons. But it's the thought that counts, right?
Yeah, blame him. Heâs definitely not getting the best-friend-of-the-year award. He had almost forgotten about the whole event, until Jimmy approached him at work that Friday before they parted ways.
âSee you later!â Jimmy had said, and Clark had stood there, his eyes locked with his friendâs for a solid half-minute, trying to understand why theyâd be seeing each other in just a few hours.
Right. The party.
Clark had forced a smile. âSure.â
The partyâs at the bar where Molly works. This is her night off, but she still manages to score him a huge discount, which is the only reason Jimmyâs picked this place.
The barâs already buzzing by the time Clark slips inside. He spots Jimmy instantly, his laughter carrying above the noise. Clark shoulders his way through the crowd, tapping him on the back. âHey, buddy.â
Jimmy turns, face lit up red by the neon bar lights. His grin grows even wider when he sees Clark. âMan, you came! I wasnât sureââ
âOf course I came. Got you something, but donât open it yet.â
Jimmy nods, taking the small âHappy Birthdayâ bag from Clarkâs hands. Molly drifts by and he loops an arm around her waist. âBabe, can you put this with the other gifts?â
She says something Clark doesnât quite catch. A guy nearly barrels into him, waving a tray of free shots. Clark thanks him but refuses to grab one, stepping aside.
For a fleeting second he thinks Jimmy and Molly are staring at him, but then he realizes their gaze is aimed past his frame. âWhat is it?â he asks.
He follows their line of sight, and there you are, standing in the doorway.
Jimmy slings an arm around his neck. Thereâs sweat tricking down the sides of his face. âI know itâs not your birthday, but I also got you a gift,â he murmurs into Clarkâs ear. Meanwhile, Clark canât stop staring at you, waiting for your eyes to find his. âIt just arrived.â
It takes you a full minute to reach them, murmuring apologies to the people you brush against. Youâre wearing a denim skirt and a long-sleeve top. He reminds himself not to stare too long, not to look at you as if no one else exists.
Clarkâs been having a problem. Actually, he has many, scattered across cities, countriesâeven galaxies. Heâs had them for many years now.
But lately, one specific problem has been bugging him, and itâs solely your fault.
Ever since you kissed for the first time, he hasnât stopped thinking about itâdreaming about the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of you on his tongue, waking up hard and aching. Nearly every morning, still half-lost in a dream, he finds himself rutting into the mattress, moaning your name.
The worst moments are when his phone lights up with your messages. Sometimes youâre up before him, and you send him voice recordings, your voice still thick with sleep. He places the phone on the cold pillow beside him, turns the volume up, and pretends he isnât waking up to an empty bed.
When he says it out loud, in the privacy of his head, it sounds pathetic. Creepy, even.
And then he texts back, Good morning! Hope you have a wonderful day at work! Youâd never guess that just minutes before, heâd been in the shower, stroking himself to the thought of you.
Itâs become a ritual now: open his eyes, get out of bed, jerk off, shower, Daily Planet.
At present, you give him a quick hug, and you seem shy, almost hesitant. He understands the feeling, since itâs the same one running through him. The first time youâre together in front of mutual friends. The very friends who set you up.
âI didnât know you were coming.â
âIt was a surprise,â you reply, a delighted smile breaking across your face. Your eyes crinkle at the corners with a playful sparkle. âAre you surprised?â
Your smile is so contagious it gets to him. âVery much surprised, yeah.â
He hasnât seen you since that morning, since the fight he lost against the Hammer of Boravia. That day he wasnât Clark for you; he wore another name, another face, a cape heavy on his back.
The urge to kiss you rises fast, blocking out everything else. He lowers his head, holds his breathâ
But before he can, Molly tugs at your shoulder.
Clark steps back and watches the two of you lean in, whispering. You glance at him as she points toward the bar, mouthing a sorry.
âYou mind if I steal her for a bit?â Molly asks.
He shakes his head, and you catch the small gesture he makes.
With a beer in hand, he engages in small talk with half the bar. He ends up the listener, executing a series of practiced moves, because his body may be there, keeping him present in appearance only, but his mind and heart are elsewhere.
He nods at the right moments, shakes his head in disbelief when needed, parts his lips when the other personâs excitement spikes. Even mutters âJeez, thatâs toughâ if the story calls for sympathy.
He slips away from one of Jimmyâs cousins, who probably managed to utter a hundred words per minute, and paces through the crowd. He expects to find you with Molly, but instead youâre alone in a booth, circling the rim of your glass with your finger.
He takes the opportunity and slides in beside you. âDid it hurt?â
You squint at him. âWhat?â
âWhen you fell from heaven, did it hurt?â
That elicits a low chuckle from you. âYouâre real smooth.â
His shoulder brushes yours as he leans closer. âYou having a good time so far?â
âYeah,â you breathe into his ear, raising your voice over the music. âEven better now that youâre here.â
He doesnât miss the way your gaze flicks to his lips. He tilts his head, breath grazing your cheek, lashes flutteringâ
Someone clears their throat, and you pull away.
Lois slides into the seat opposite. âKent, I see youâve decided to invade female territory.â
Under the table, his knee knocks yours. âItâs not my fault you left her alone, Lois. What else was I supposed to do?â
âI didnât leave her alone! I was just getting more of this,â she says, lifting her drink and taking a sip of it. âSo, where were we? Oh, yes! Superman.â
Clark nearly chokes, coughing hard. You rub his back, concerned. âAre you okay?â
âYes,â he rasps. âJust choked on my saliva.â
âYou should see how flustered Clark gets at work whenever we talk about his most beloved friend.â Lois beams at you, setting her palms down flat on the table.
You let out a quiet laugh. âOh, I can imagine.â
âHe gets pretty defensive,â she presses.
He lifts a finger, calling her attention. âI donât.â
âYou totally do.â
âI just give my opinion,â he counters, raising his brows. âItâs literally our job.â
Lois rolls her eyes, her hair flicking over her shoulder. âDonât do that. Youâre changing the topic.â
âIâm notââ
âWhat do you think about what Supermanâs been doing latelyâ Lois turns to you, the corners of her mouth quirking up, turning the spotlight on you.
You toy with your glass, your expression dull. âI guess some things couldâve been avoided if done differently.â
âLike what?â Lois inquires, leaning forward.
âThe fight with The Hammer of Boravia. Entering a country without first getting permission.â
Clark downs the last of his beer in a single motion. He needs to do something with his hands. At his sides they feel strange, unfamiliar, like theyâd only just been stitched onto him a moment ago.
Lois reclines in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, a smug smile stretching on her features. âThis is what I was talking about! Heâs dying on the inside.â
âDonât you think he had⌠fair motives?â he turns to you, gesturing too broadly. âItâs not like he thought it would make things worse.â
âWell, then maybe he should think twice before acting,â you reply, straightening. âIâm not one of those people that think heâs being dishonest. I believe he wants to do good, but he interfered with international affairs. He knew the authorities werenât going to give him a medal for it.â
âBut he was stopping a war,â Clark insists, his voice tighter than he means it to be.
âIâm not saying what he did was wrong, Clark. Regardless of his intentions, he should reflect on his actions no matter what they are. Everything he does ripples across the planet,â you continue to explain, your eyes locked on his. âHe might be morally right, but he has to know any intervention he makes on another country will be questioned.â
A sickness twists in his stomach. Between the thrum of music, the clatter of glasses, the press of bodies, and voices overlapping like static, a dizziness blooms at the base of his skull.
At that moment, Lois cuts through. âHe crashed outside a school the other day, didnât he?â
Your head snaps in her direction. âI work there.â
âAnd how was he? Got his ass kicked?â
âExcuse me,â Clark begins, adjusting his glasses, âbut he didnât completely get his ass kicked.â
âHe was pretty hurt,â you argue, your nose crinkling. âI saw him. I helped him get up.â
As if sent from God above, Jimmy bursts into the booth wearing a birthday hat crooked over his hair. âOkay, enough chatting. Less than thirty seconds until my birthday. Dance floor, now!â
Lois trails after him when he disappears back into the crowd, but you stay seated, and so does Clark.
The countdown begins in the background. His chest is tight, and it would be an outright lie to pretend the conversation hasnât rattled him. He sizes you up. âI didnât know you hated Superman.â
You exhale a long breath. âWhen did I say that? Honestly, what part of what I just said gave you that impression?â
âYou took the opportunity to rip him apart.â
10âŚ
âIâm being critical, Clark. We all need to beâeven you.â
9âŚ
He canât control the way his face twists with each passing second. He must be watching you without a shred of remorse, because then youâre saying, âCan we talk like adults without you looking at me like Iâve murdered someone?â
8âŚ
He averts his gaze. Holds his tongue.
7âŚ
You catch your lower lip between your teeth. âAre we really fighting over thisââ
6âŚ
ââover Superman?â
5âŚ
âClark, will you please look at me?â
4âŚ
He does, but stays silent.
3âŚ
âWhy do you care so much about what I think of him?â
2âŚ
His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he intends to speak. âIâI donâtâCan weââ
1âŚ
The look on your face is beyond devastating.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMMY!
The bar explodes with cheers. Lights dim, the room falling almost entirely into shadow. Even in the half-dark, Clark notices the tight line of your jaw, how tense it is. You donât meet his eyes when you ask to slide out of the booth to go congratulate Jimmy.
When he rises, itâs slow, like his muscles are made of lead. His legs feel numb, his fingertips burning. He watches you cross the room, sees you touch Jimmyâs back before hugging him briefly.
Molly arrives and folds you into a hug too. You shake your head, adjusting the strap of your bag. A moment later you step back, and Molly turns her attention to Jimmy, arms looping around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.
Clark realizes you take that as your exit. Youâre leaving without even glancing back at him. Panic flares, and he strides toward Jimmy, interrupting a conversation to pull him into a hug.
âHappy birthday,â he murmurs as he pulls away.
Jimmy smiles, though not fully. âThanks, man. I apprââ
âI got you a disposable camera, hope you like it, happy birthday!â
Clark rushes out of the bar, nearly stumbling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He scans both sides of the street and spots you nearly at the end of the block.
âWait!â he shouts.
You turn, startled. âIâm heading home,â you say. Your apartment is only four blocks away.
âLet me walk you.â
It isnât necessary. He knows youâll be fine. The streets on a Friday night are crowded, buzzing with life. But the most profound part of his being needs it. He needs it.
You hold your hand up. âDonâtâjust donât,â you say, frowning. âItâs no use.â
âPlease, let me.â
âIâm tired.â You rub your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. âI shouldâMy headâs a mess right now.â
He takes a step forward. Youâre still too far away. âI just want to make sure you get home safe,â he says, opening his heart to you. âYou can kick me out later, butâjust let me do this one thing.â
You tilt your head back toward the sky as if searching the stars for an answer. It takes you some time, but you end up sighing, giving a small nod. He jogs up to you, and together you start down the street toward your building.
When you slip the keys into the lock, you ask if he wants to come in for a minute. It goes without saying it wonât be a minute. It wonât be two, not even five.
A sixth sense isnât among his powers, but he knows that once he steps inside, once he breathes the air of your home and the door clicks softly shut behind him, it will be almost impossible to leave.
The first thing you do is toss your purse onto the counter. He doesnât move past the doorway. He just stands there in silence, coat still on. His eyes follow you as you turn your back on him, and then you spin around, forcing the confrontation.
âWhat was that back in the bar?â
The question cuts straight through him. Clark had improvised answers before: quick excuses about why he stayed late at the office, why he never took off his glasses, why Superman, of all people, chose to grant interviews only to a soft-spoken reporter like him.
Yet this is different. Whatâs about to happen feels inexplicable, and has no easy exit.
âI got carried away,â he finally says, burying his hands in his pockets to prevent you from seeing how hard his skin is burning, knuckles white from balling his fists too tight.
âOh, really? I hadnât noticed.â
âDonât do that.â
âWhat exactly donât you want me to do, Clark?â You take a step closer. Your lips are trembling, he notices that. âI donât know what happened there. I donât know what got you so⌠defensive all of a sudden.â
In his mind, he compares this moment to the first time he ever saw you. Maybe you were standing at the same distance back at the restaurant Jimmy had picked that night. Maybe you were even wearing the same shoes you have on now.
But everything feels different tonight. He canât deny it, canât cover it up with anything.
âI was asked for my opinion, and I gave it, and then you suddenly changed completely. Youâre stiff, you didnât talk to me. You didnât even look at me.â
Clark struggles to meet your eyes. Every time he does, he sees the lie heâs been weaving for nearly two months.
âEven still, you wonât look at me.â
He knows heâs here to talk. You want answers; you deserve them. But even though he understands that, sees it as rational and appropriate, it doesnât mean his body comprehends it the same way his mind does.
You continue, each of your words is punctuated by a wild movement of your hands. âWhy does it bother you that I donât agree with every single thing heâs done?â Your mouth opens and closes before you find your voice again. âLast time I checked, I was dating you, not him.â
There are a million clever things he could say, but the only thing that comes out is: âThe Boravian government isnât well intentioned.â
A humorless laugh bursts out of you, almost leaving you breathless. âYouâre unbelievable,â you mutter, rubbing your temples. âDid he tell you that?â
âYes. I asked him.â
âThatâs right. You seem to have unlimited access to his knowledge.â
âWhat are you implying?â
âDoes he pay you for the interviews?â
The question made his head snap back, as if dislocated. âYou think Supermanâs bribing me?â
âI donât know! Youâre just soâloyal to him!â
âHeâs not a bad person.â
âNobodyâs said that, Clark! Youâre putting words in my mouth. All I said is that he shouldâve considered the consequences of his actions.â
âYou believe he had the time for that while trying to save a whole country?â
âWhy donât we call him and ask, huh? Do you have his number? Does he own a phone? Does heââ
âPeople were going to die!â Clarkâs shout rips through the room, his throat raw with the effort. Heat surges through his veins, rushing outward until every nerve is thrumming. He feels both more alive than ever and completely paralyzed.
You take a step back, stunned. His voice still echoes in the room, and shame rises in his chest. Heâs never known where his breaking point was until now.
âOkay,â you say slowly, steadying yourself. âWhat is it that youâre not telling me?â
Should he leave? Vanish? Hand back the spare key you offered him one late night?
You continue to stare at him. âThereâs something more to this. I know there is.â
Itâs over. He canât undo what just happened, so why not risk the last chance he has with you?
His fingers close around the edge of his glasses, pulling them from his face. At first, you donât register whatâs happening, until your hand flies to the wall, bracing yourself.
âHoly fuck.â
Itâs the first time heâs heard you curse.
You blink furiously, chest tightening with every breath. No sound comes out at first.
âYouâWhat? This⌠this whole time, youâWHAT?!â
âPlease, donât freak out.â
âIâm not freaking out. Iâm fine,â you snap between gritted teeth, though your expression betrays you. âI only had one drink.â
âI know.â
âIâm not drunk,â you insist.
âI know,â he repeats, softer this time.
Your eyes donât leave him, even as your breathing slows. âYou look⌠different. How?â
He holds up the glasses between you. âTheyâre called hypnoglasses. Theyâthey alter the way people see me.â
You swallow hard after a while, brow furrowed, like youâre working out impossible math in your head. âWere you going to tell me, or are you doing it out ofâwhat, guilt?â
âIt was supposed to happen after our eighth date.â
You stop dead in your tracks. âExcuse me, eighth date? Have you been⌠counting them?â
Something good was supposed to happen tonight. Thatâs what heâd thought initially.
He feels stupid as soon as the words leave him. âThatâYou didnât have to know that.â
âWhy after the eighth date? Why only eight?â
âI donât know! I like even numbers.â
âClark, I swearââ
âI thought if we got that far, then⌠then it meant you really liked me,â he mumbles, heart clenching in his chest. âThat you liked me as Clark. And thenâwell.â
Now itâs your turn to be speechless. He pushes forward anyway.
âI care about what you say about Superman because Iâm him. Iâm sensitive. I speak before I think. I took matters into my own hands because I believed it was the right thing to do, and I donât regret it. I wasnât representing anyone except myself.â
His voice softens, almost breaking.
âAnd for the record, I like you. A lot. I know Iâve never said it out loud, and I know that itâs late for a confession like that, but I think you deserve to hear it.â
Heâs afraid you might slide down the wall, that everything heâs said has been too much. That tonight has shifted something in you. He tells himself heâs half-ready to face another loss, and though it wouldnât be fought with fists, it would still break him all the same.
âPlease, justâjust tell me you want me to leave and Iâll go.â
âI donât want that.â
Perhaps heâs heard you wrong. âWhat?â
âI said I donât want you to go.â
He canât answer in any form other than monosyllables. âWhy not?â
You gather your courage and step closer, tilting your chin to meet his eyes. âYou have to be more careful. I know youâreâbulletproof, but you still need to take care of yourself. Take care of what you do. Think things through.â
âI seriously donât understandââ
âWhat Iâm trying to say is thatâthat I like you, too.â You cut him off, voice rising just a little. Those four words undo him. âIâI really do.â
âEven after all this?â
âI guess Iâm really stubborn.â
âSo⌠you donât want me to go?â
âNo.â
âYou donât hate me?â
You touch his forearm gently. âIâd never be able to hate you.â
âYou donât hate⌠Superman?â
âWe may not see eye to eye on everything, but that shouldnât be an issue,â you counter. âWeâre both adults. We can deal with it.â
âYou didnât answer my question.â
Holding his gaze, you whisper, âNo. I donât hate him, and I donât hate you.â
Clark pulls you into his arms, tucking his chin near your neck. He hugs you with unguarded enthusiasm, your hands stroking small circles along his back. He breathes in your perfume, closing his eyes briefly, as if he could keep you there forever.
âYou know what I would hate?â
âWhat?â His answer is muffled against your shoulder.
âNot knowing more about your dating plan.â
He draws back just enough, still holding you close, your faces inches apart. âForget about it.â
âImpossible.â
âItâsânot worth it. Trust me.â
âPlease, tell me.â
âYouâre gonna make fun of me.â
You narrow your eyes, lips curving into a pout. âI promise I wonât.â
For an instant, Clark thinks about changing the subject, but he gives in.
âIt consists of eight dates. Divided into three partsââ He cuts himself off when your lips quiver, fighting a smile. âThatâs not fair! Youâre already laughing.â
You have to bite your lip to stifle your grin. âIâm sorry. Itâs just thatâyou had it all planned. Itâs cute.â Your hands slide up to link behind his neck, and a flush creeps across his cheeks. âOkay. You may continue.â
He clears his throat. âRight now, if we count tonight as our seventh dateââ
âAre you sure you want to count our first argument as a date?â
ââweâd be in the last stage,â Clark finishes. âThen one more date. After that, if everything went well, Iâd tell you the truth, but IâI got ahead of myself. For obvious reasons, of course.â
âDoes each stage have⌠its own conditions?â
âSort of.â
âIs not touching me one of them?â
âS-sorry?â he stutters, ears going red.
âItâs just that your plan sounds a lot like a chastity one.â
Clark sputters, looking down. âI meanâI never specified such a thing. Itâs not prohibited, butâNo, I wouldnât say engaging in that kind of activity was written into the actual plan.â
You hum thoughtfully, nodding. âAnd would you like it to stay that way?â
âIâm the one who made it, right? So⌠theoretically⌠Iâm allowed to make a few changes here and there.â
âHow interesting.â
His thumb grazes the strip of bare skin between your top and your skirt. âIt depends on what you want to do tonight.â
Your chest rises with expectation. You wet your lips, and Clark sees how your pupils expand until they nearly eclipse the rest of your irisâ, as if someoneâs as if the Yellow Sun had been replaced by an overwhelming moon. âI want it all.â
A tempered heat begins spreading through his limbs. âAll as in⌠all of it?â
âWhy donât you start by kissing me first,â you murmur, rising onto your tiptoes to hover your mouth over his, âand then we just⌠see it as we go?â
Clark nods as though youâve given him a concrete assignment that he must now accomplish.
And suddenly, he has a goal.
This is really happening. He knows it doesnât exactly fit the plan he drafted for himself. If he were following it, heâd wait. But circumstances have shifted.
Again and again, life has pulled the ground out from beneath his careful steps, and strangely enough, he canât complain.
Itâs hard enough to control his own feelings, but trying to rein in someone elseâs is nearly impossible. And he can see it, that you want this as much as he does. Thereâs a yearning, something raw and real, sparking between you.
Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe he should⌠go with the flow. At least for once.
RIP Clark Kentâs dating plan. You were a loyal ally through all these years of restraint and abstinence, but your time is up.
Clark kisses you, slowly at first. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and the way you kiss him back sends a deep shudder through him. At some point, his glasses slip from his pocket and clatter to the floor, but he hardly notices.
The sweetness doesnât last. That first careful kiss soon spirals into something more frantic. You tug at his hair, drawing involuntary sounds from him each time your mouths break apart by the barest inch. Like magnets, you find each other again and again, tongues clashing, your teeth knocking into his.
Heâs already hard. It hasnât been long, barely anything at all, and yet his body is betraying him with a raging boner. Every time you brush against him, he shifts his hips back, desperate not to let you feel it. He doesnât want to push too far or make you uncomfortable.
But you notice, and before you can speak, he blurts out, âIâm sorry. Itâs justâyouâre⌠so pretty, and Iâmââ
Your lips are swollen, flushed from kissing. âYou shouldnât apologize for being aroused,â you say, the corner of your mouth lifting in a brief smile. âBesides, youâre not the only one.â
You pull away just enough to unbutton your skirt, sliding it down the length of your legs. He stares, entranced, before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside with his glasses.
Eyes locked on his, you take his large hand and guide it between your thighs, pressing it lower until he cups you. Even through the lace of your black thong, he feels it: the undeniable slickness clinging to his fingers. Youâre wet.
No, scratch thatâyouâre beyond wet.
His breath hitches at the scent of you. You gasp when his fingertips trace your folds over the thin fabric. âSee?â you manage, your voice trembling despite your attempt at calm. âIâm just asâas affected as you are.â
Something in that moment snaps him out of restraint; itâs as if a hand has struck his cheek, jolting him awake.
He devours your mouth this time, pushing you backward until your shoulders hit the wall. His strong thigh wedges between yours, prying them apart and holding you there.
One hand braces the wall beside your head, while the other hooks your underwear aside. Heâs transfixed by the sight of you: glistening and inviting in equal quantities.
His fingers skim you at first, his knuckles grazing your stomach as he lifts your top. His mouth wanders down your throat, and you throw your head back, hips canting up instinctively. âClarkâpleaseââ
You sound so sweet, so needy, that he canât make you wait any longer. He pushes a finger inside, achingly slow, your slick guiding him deeper. Youâre tight and warm, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat.
You moan, and the sound elicits a groan from him, his mouth ghosting over your jaw as he curls his finger inside you.
âShit,â you mutter, eyes squeezed shut, hands fluttering helplessly with nowhere to hold on. Not that you could fall, because Clarkâs holding you as though the world itself depends on it. He pumps his finger a few more times before easing it out of you, instead focusing on rubbing your clit with earnestness.
He captures your lips again, angling your face with a firm hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. All the while, his ministrations on your clit donât falter, and you canât help but whimper.
âYouâreâGod, youâre killing me with these sounds,â he rasps. You melt against the wall, chest heaving, and he inhales unsteadily, peering down at where his hand moves against you. âIâve been dreaming about this. About you. I canâtâbelieve youâre mine.â
He fears that last word carries more meaning than it should, but itâs the only truth he knows. He wants to be yours as wholly as you are his; he wants to give you his time, to learn every last detail of who you are.
You nod as best you can, your fist curling into his shirt. âIâmâIâm yours,â you coo, voice thick with desire. Between kisses, you add, âAnd⌠youâre⌠mine.â
Another moan bubbles up in your throat as he sinks two of his fingers into your heat, stretching you even further. The wet sounds each time he draws them back and forth captivate him.
âAre you close?â he asks, though he already knows, but you still whine in agreement. âOh, I know. You're shaking so bad. You wanna come?â Your nails rake over his arms, clutching at him. âAlright. I got you.â
He works you toward your peak, and moments later, you break, coming around his fingers. Your thighs clamp around his hand, hips twitching with aftershocks. His own moan muffles against your cheek as he peppers it with sloppy kisses, drinking in every one of your mewls.
When you come back to your senses, you kiss him languidly, your tongue sliding against his. âThat was⌠amazing,â you breathe into his mouth, giggling as you attempt to catch your breath. You tangle your fingers in his hair. âI want to touch you.â
He stills. Clark carries so much pent-up tension that it might work against him. Heâs pretty certain that the moment you put your hand on him, heâll finish embarrassingly fast, and he canât let that happen.
So instead, he drops to his knees.
Your brows lift in surprise. There are beads of sweat clinging to your temples, and Clark parts your thighs with his hands, positioning himself between them. Your cunt, still dripping, is right before him.
He hears you swallow, suddenly shy with him this close to such an intimate part of you. âYou donât have toââ
âBut I want to taste you.â His thumbs spread your folds as his mouth waters, and his gaze flicks upward, asking for permission. âCan I?â
You nod frantically, panting, and he settles in. His tongue slides into your entrance, savoring you, before laving over your folds. He closes his mouth around your clit and sucks with intent, and you canât keep watching him. Itâs too much.
âSoâfucking good,â you stutter, threading your fingers in his black curls. Your hips rut instinctively against his face, chasing the friction when he eases back a little. âI donâtâI donât even want to know where you learned all this.â
Clark slips his digits back inside you, plunging them to the hilt. Heâs not used to this loss of control, this need to consume, but he doesnât know how else to do this. If he stops, he fears youâll vanish, leaving him to wake from the same cruel dream where heâs helplessly humping his mattress.
âYou taste like heaven,â he purrs, pulling back with a string of slick connecting his mouth to your pussy. His hand slides higher, palming your breast through your bra. Itâs as if the rawest part of him, which is usually buried beneath restraint, has broken loose, and now he only craves more.
âPlease, donât stop.â Your voice is barely a whisper. Your eyes are teary, and for a moment he worries, but then you look at him, pleading. âKeepâkeep going, just like thatââ
Your flesh is soft beneath his grip, and he squeezes your thigh, grounding you as his fingers piston in and out of you. His tongue draws the same pattern again and again over your nub, and he can feel your whole frame trembling.
As you experience your second orgasm of the night, you donât make a sound. Your knees buckle, and Clark has to press you against the wall to keep you upright.
With broad strokes, he continues to drink from the nectar between your thighs, enamored with the taste, the scent, the feel of you.
He lets go only when you tap his shoulder, your eyes half-lidded. He rises, making sure to steady you with a hand at your waist. You cradle his face, wiping the spit running down his chin.
You kiss him, softer than before, standing on top of his shoes. âWhy are you still wearing clothes?â you ask, your hand slipping down to tug at his belt. You unbuckle it as you lead him toward your bedroom, and he follows without a word.
He sits at the edge of your bed, touching you wherever he can while you undress him. You pop each button of his shirt with ease, taking your time, leaving a kiss here and there before trailing lower. Your fingers caress his chest, and your gaze meets his.
Your voice carries a strained edge when you speak. âClark?â
âYeah?â
Youâre looking at him with so much affection he could cry on the spot.
âIâI thinkââ The words die on your tongue, and after a beat you say. âIâve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.â
His heart stings. For a moment, heâd thought you were going to say those three words heâs been biting back.
Nevertheless, his lips cover yours gently, smiling. âOh, I have.â
âYeah? Who is it?â
The answer is simple. âYou.â
You stifle a laugh. âThatâs very cheesy,â you murmur, kissing him shortly. Your fingers unbutton his pants, lowering the zipper, your eyes searching his. âI want to take care of you.â
He draws back a little, takes a deep breath. Again, heâs nervous, as though you arenât both already half-naked. âThereâs something I need to tell you.â You hum in encouragement, and he clears his throat. âWell, IâGosh, I donât know how to say this.â
âJust⌠say it however it comes.â
âIâm not going to last long,â he admits, heat prickling at the back of his neck. You blink, brows furrowing. âIâm not being modest or anything. IâI just know it. I know my⌠body.â
You take a moment to think. âAnd whatâs the problem with that?â
âWell, itâs certainly not⌠what youâd expect from me.â
You shake your head. âYouâre overthinking it.â
He swallows, lifting his hips so you can tug his pants down. You sink to your knees on the carpet, kissing him again, your nails scraping lightly at the skin just above the waistband of his boxers.
âI donât care how long you last.â You lick into his mouth, swallowing his whimper. âI just want you to feel good. Thatâs all.â
Pressing his forehead against yours before straightening, he observes as you push his boxers down. His cock springs free, unashamed, like every other time heâs thought of you alone in his apartment.
The only difference tonight is that it isnât his hand that grabs it, but yours.
You stroke him once, tentative, studying every vein. Your mouth hovers over the tip before your tongue darts out to taste a bead of precum, moaning at the taste. Clark fists the sheets beneath him, peering up at the ceiling.
âHey,â you whisper, urging him to look at you. Your hand glides up and down his length, and you chuckle. âEyes here.â
Clark plants both hands on the mattress, leaning back, his gaze locked on yours.
âThatâs it,â you coo, flattening your tongue along his shaft as your hand works him. âIs this okay?â
âFeels⌠nice,â he manages, attempting to come up with coherent sentences. âIt feelsâOh, Jesus.â
His tip disappears behind your lips, and you suck dutifully, making his thighs twitch. He tries to even his breath, but it comes in rapid exhales.
As you hollow your cheeks, he slides a hand down, feeling the outline of himself through your skin. A choked moan rumbles in his chest when you take more of him, your throat tightening around his length. Seconds later you pull back, eyes watery, stroking what you canât fit into your mouth.
The knot in his lower stomach is becoming unbearable. At times, his knee jerks with small motions. He canât remain still, about anything but you and the hot paradise of your mouth.
His eyes flutter shut for an instant, and then you pinch the skin above his navel, startling him back, almost tickling him. You bob your head, trying to keep eye contact, but even you have to take a break sometimes from the intensity.
Thatâs when your free hand slips between your legs, pleasuring yourself too.
âOh, baby,â he groans, barely registering the pet name. It only spurs you on, and a little saliva begins to drip from your lips, sliding down the side of his shaft, making a mess in his trimmed hair.
And now heâs close. So close he could come any second. He drags a palm over his face, holding his breath, andâ
The pleasure disappears. He blinks once, twice, unsure if heâs lost what was left of his sanity or if youâre having fun edging him.
Sort of breathless, you sit back on your knees, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and it only takes one look at you for him to know exactly what youâre thinking.
For a moment, he swears he blacks out. He feels as if heâs outside himself, disoriented, like a runner who has to reach the finish line at all costs. Except here, the goal waits between your thighs.
Then the haze clears, and heâs back in the bedroom with you. Youâre on all fours before him, back arched, presenting yourself. His hands knead the flesh of your ass, and he gnaws at his bottom lip before the urge overpowers him.
He bends, tongue sliding through your slit and tracing it along your folds, tasting you until your voice breaks, pleading for more.
At long last, the moment of truth has arrived. He fists himself, lines up, and notches his tip at your entrance, slowly pressing in.
Donât come. Donât come. Donâtâ
âFuck,â you keen, wriggling your hips, quivering. âYouâreâyouâre splitting me in half.â
âDonât⌠try to rush it.â He pulls back a little to push in again, then pushes deeper, growling through clenched teeth. âItâs gonna take a while, sweetheart.â
He doesnât miss the way you clench around him. His knees buckle and he has to steady himself with a bruising grip on your waist.
âYou like that, donât you? You like it when I call you those names?â Clark asks, voice rough, desire thick in his throat. âThatâs why youâre clamping down on me?â
He watches as you nod, the gesture nearly imperceptible. âPlease, move.â
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he blurts, âCanât. Youâreâreally tight.â
âI wanna feel you,â you retort, your hand groping back, searching for his thigh. Your neck twists so he can cast you a glance: you look already wrecked, mascara smudged under your eyes, lips swollen and parted. âItâs okay. You wonât hurt me. I can take it.â
He knows you can. He repeats it all along as he continues to feed you his cock, storing all the noises you make and the responses you have to his touch in his memory.
Once he bottoms out and canât go any further, when his balls are flushed firmly against your cheeks, he pulls out until only the tip remains, and slams back inside.
The sound alone is pornographic. Your inner walls stretch to adjust to his size, welcoming him in, and you mutter something about feeling him in your stomach.
âY-you hear that?â Clark asks, voice breaking. To prove his point, he rolls his hips, the obscene squelch filling the void. He does it again, and again, each thrust making your breath hitch. âSheâs crying for me. Wants me to keep her full.â
With a whine, your arms finally give out, and your face sinks into the pillow. That change in angle drives him mad. Clark spreads your cheeks wide, watching the way he disappears into you as he ruts harder into you. He pounds against your sweet spot, the room echoing with the lewd slap of skin meeting skin.
Chest flush to your back, he buries himself even deeper, one arm curling around your breasts to pull you upright as he jackhammers into you, giving you no chance to recover before heâs plunging forward again.
âC-Clark, oh my God,â you wail, clutching at him, trying to turn your face to catch his eyes. âYouâre fucking big, youâreâyouâre everywhere.â
He licks a stripe along your shoulder blades, tasting salt, and then drags his mouth along your damp skin. âYou feel so good, baby. So good, so warmâI never wanna leave you.â
His own pace is killing him. Itâs too fast, too deep, too erratic, but he canât stop. Heâs far too caught up in the moment to think of a way to make it last. His body, acting on instinct, moves on its own, leaving him behind.
Youâve told him before that youâre on the pill, that itâs safe, but he still needs to hear it again.
âIâmâIâm close,â he whimpers into your ear, twitching, working every muscle he has. âCan IâIâm justâPlease, let me. Iâll make it up to you, but p-please.â
âCome inside me,â you breathe, arching your back. âI want it. You can let go.â
And with your permission, he does, spilling inside you. His hips falter, driving in short thrusts as he spills inside you, pumping his release deeper with each spasm.
His heart hammers like itâs going to burst free from his chest, tearing out of his ribs, beating hard against your spine as he clings to you. He chokes on a sob against your nape, mouthing at your hair, feeling a surge of blood rushing through him.
Your body lies flat against the mattress, his last brain cells fighting not to crush you with his full weight. He braces himself on his forearms, the fire in his abdomen slowly ebbing.
He thinks heâs spent, but then another hot spurt escapes him, and he tightens his grip on the sheets.
Your walls flutter around him, and you crack one eye open, trying to glance back. âHow are you stillââ
âI have no idea,â he replies, nosing your cheek. âThereâs probably a Kryptonian anatomy book somewhere that could explain it.â
You chuckle, exhaling as your body softens beneath him, getting comfortable. Maybe you think thatâs it, that the two of you will collapse into bed, or shower, or do anything other than keep going at it.
But Clark gets hard⌠again. He never fully softened in the first place. Now, buried deep inside you, he feels himself swelling again, his length hardening back to steel.
After a couple seconds, you notice it. âAre youâare you hard again?â
âLooks like it,â he husks, hips shifting before he even realizes it. âFeels even better now.â
Heâs still sensitive from his first orgasm. He can hardly believe either of you are ready for more, but his body isnât listening.
You wince when he pulls out, clenching around nothing. You try to push yourself up, but your arms refuse. âWhat are you doing? I wanted you to stay.â
No answer. Just pure silence.
You twist your neck, brows knitted. âClark? Is something wrong?â
Heâs too entranced by the sight in front of him. His essence leaks out of you, and he surges forward to glide his fingers through the mess, gathering it to smear it along your folds. You moan low in your throat as he pushes it back into your hole, your body greedily swallowing two of his fingers.
âYouâreâmuch kinkier than I thought,â you mewl, and then he presses his arousal flush against your lower back, making you chuckle. âSecond round?â
He hums, kissing your neck, then your jaw. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. His lips claim yours as his palms slide down to your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers before replacing his touch with his tongue, lavishing attention on each hardened peak in turn.
You rake your nails against his scalp, squirming beneath him. He kisses his way back up to your mouth, biting at your lips.
âI can see you better this way,â he rasps, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, sighing when he catches your entrance. âYouâll tell me if it hurts?â
Looping your arms around his neck, you tug him closer, kissing him shortly. âI will.â
This position grants him the privilege of watching your eyes widen as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until youâre filled to the brim again. Your nostrils flare, your mouth falling open in silent pleasure. His forehead drops to yours and his eyes roll back, high on the sensation.
He braces both arms on either side of your face, and you lock your ankles at the base of his spine, urging him on. Clark starts a slower rhythm this time, his only focus now to pull you apart.
His balls swing and impact rhythmically against the curve of your ass. You tilt your pelvis on each of his thrusts to help him reach deeper, telling him to go faster, harder.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he chants between ragged breaths, whatever thought crosses his mind spilling out unchecked. Youâre pinned beneath him, his sheer size overwhelming, like he could consume you whole without much effort. You tilt your head back, turning to putty. âIâd do anything for you. Just say the word andâand I will.â
His eyes fall closed as he inhales deeply, only reopening them once heâs expelled the breath.
âI love you,â he confesses then, voice wrecked, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. Any sort of reaction involving coherent speech appears to be beyond you. You just take what heâs giving you, your tits swaying as he pounds into you.
âC-clark, Iââ You canât finish your thought. He can almost see the gears turning in your head, how your face scrunches in ecstasy and the words tangle in your throat. âIââ
âItâs okay. You donât have to say it back just because I did,â he answers, sneaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, circling it with precision. âI just wanted you to know it. I can wait.â
Your breathing staggers. You grab his face to kiss him, tangling your tongue with his. His gaze flicks between your blissed expression and the place where your bodies meet. His own orgasm creeps closer, though heâs determined to wait until youâre there with him.
The headboard keeps rocking against the wall, and youâre murmuring his name like it's the only word you remember of the English language. By the look on your face, he knows youâre close, that you just need a little more pressure for the knot in your stomach to snap.
âIâm gonna get you there, donât worry,â he promises, rutting harder into you, never letting up on your clit.
âIâIâm so close,â you whine, sucking in a sharp breath, your thighs tightening around his frame. âDonât stop.â
âNever,â he pants, holding himself on the edge of the precipice. âIâm right here, honey. Iâve got you.â
You come with a cry, shockwaves wracking your body as your walls clamp and flutter around him. Clark follows instantly, shuddering as he spills deep inside you for the second time, his whimpers muffled by your neck.
He doesnât pull out until heâs sure youâve milked every last drop. When he finally does, itâs reluctant, wishing there could be a way to live his whole life buried inside you without facing any consequence. He drops onto the mattress at your side, tugging you into his chest.
To his surprise, he actually feels tired. Heâs sticky, sweaty, and madly in love with you.
Wait. He told you he loved you while still inside of you.
Romanticism isnât dead, ladies and gentlemen, because Clark Joseph Kent is the living proof of it.
Your hand traces absent shapes on his chest, your breath warm near his ear. âI think we need to shower.â
âYeah,â Clark mutters, staring up at the ceiling. âWith holy water.â
You both laugh at that, and he holds you closer, stroking up and down your arm. After a while, he realizes youâre not tracing nonsense on his skin.
Youâre writing the same letters, over and over.
I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U. T. O. O.
âOh,â he breathes, capturing your fingers and tilting your chin until youâre looking at him. Your lashes flutter, your face glowing with a pleased expression. He canât stop the smile pulling at his lips. âReally?â
âYes.â You kiss him softly, brushing your nose against his. âI love you, Clark.â
He seals his mouth with yours. âI think we should start saving to gift Jimmy and Molly a trip somewhere nice.â
âThatâs your way of saying thank you for setting us up?â
âExactly.â He gives you another peck. âIâd suggest preparing yourself for the double dates. Iâve already made my peace with the idea.â
The mere thought doesnât unsettle you in the least. If anything, it only widens your smile, and your eyes crinkle at the corners.
Clarkâs duty on Earth had always been clear. He came from a distant planet called Krypton, and despite the circumstances, his lifeâs purpose was to serve humanity, to make the world a better place.
What he never expected was that, beyond that destiny, he would find someone who would make his time on Earth feel greater than any calling ever could.
Over the years, experience had taught Clark that whenever Jimmy labeled one of his ideas as brilliant, sometimes⌠he was right.
âË âż Ë ŕŁŞ plug!choso likes you a little too much
your plug definitely likes you a little too much, giving you free weed all the time, even when he knows itâs getting a little out of hand. but choso just doesnât really know how to say no to you, especially when you wear shirts that are incredibly low cut or push up bras that basically show your whole world. it takes a lot for him to keep his eyes on yours, resisting the urge for them to drift where he knows they shouldnât.
but heâs a gentleman, ignoring the short skirts or short shorts you wear that just barely cover your ass, or the slim fitted clothes that hug your body perfectly. he does have to adjust his stance sometimes to hide the painfully boner in his pants.
but you still notice. itâs so pathetically obvious with his awkward coughs to try and hide his arousal, or the way he bites on his bottom lip. and youâre not afraid to take advantage of this little âcrushâ he has on you. especially when it gets you free weed and occasionally some free dick.
the first time it happened was at a party, the both of you high as a kite with choso a little more unfiltered than he usually is. he was also stuck to you like glue. he couldnât keep his eyes off you and that dress you were wearing - couldnât hide the tent in his pants either. and you thought fuck it - heâs cute enough, got a nice smile that makes your stomach swirl.
so here you were, in an empty bedroom riding your plug like a cowboy, your pussy clenching around his cock as his tip kisses your cervix. he was way bigger than you imagined. where had he been hiding all that?
he couldnât contain the whines the fell from his lips, his hands gripping on your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock. heâd been dreaming of this for months, finally having you the way he wanted, despite how messy he knows this could get. but god, you looked so fucking good riding his cock with your head thrown back, moaning out his name in a way that just made his tip throb.
with the way your clit smacks against his pelvis and the curve of his cock abusing that sweet spot of yours, you feel a tight build up in your stomach, gripping harder on chosoâs shoulders that youâre using to balance yourself.
âmâso close cho..â, you whine with furrowed brows, looking down at him with a desperate expression. he swallows. why do you have to be so ridiculously attractive?
he feels his own build up the moment you speak with a strained voice, looking at him with lust and need. his cockâs been dying for itâs release, but he held back - there was no way he wanted to fuck this up by cumming like a virgin.
he groans, thrusting up and kissing your cervix, brushing past your g-spot and causing your orgasm to rush through your veins. your back arches and your body writhes, whining in pretty moans that you couldnât even try to hold back. it was too much for him, feeling his cock throb as it shoots hot hot white cum that covers your walls while whimpering out in a pathetic way you found so attractive.
you were definitely too drunk on your orgasm mixed with your high to realise your plug just came inside you, choso nervously biting along the bottom of his lips and looking up at you like a misbehaved pup, âsorry..â
you pout, âas long as youâre paying for plan b.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
đŕ¨ŕ§ youâre the top model who broke chosoâs heart years ago, and heâs the rockstar whose career skyrocketed after. when he performs at your fashion show, the tension explodes until he ends up in your hotel room.
đŕ¨ŕ§ pairing. afab!reader x singer!choso kamo
đŕ¨ŕ§ warnings. mdni. sobbing during sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), creampie, praise kink, possessive behavior, little angst
singer!choso was your boyfriend three years ago, a quiet musician with dark hair and songs written just for you. you, a model starting to book big gigs, ended things when your career pulled you away. âitâs too hard,â you said, leaving him crushed, begging, âwe can make it work.â you walked away. he channeled the pain into music, and his heartbreak anthems turned him into a global star.
singer!choso who is now a rockstar. his songs about you top the charts, and fans chant your name at shows, knowing you inspired the lyrics. youâre a supermodel, walking for chanel and dior, but hearing his voice everywhere stings. the media loves your breakup, calling it âthe split that fueled his fame.â
singer!choso is booked to perform at your biggest runway yetâvictoriaâs secret, with flashing lights and a massive crowd. youâre the star, closing the show in lingerie and wings. when you hear heâs singing, your heart racesâyou havenât seen him since the breakup. backstage, youâre adjusting your outfit, nervous, while heâs checking his guitar, already looking for you.
singer!choso steps onstage, his voice carrying a new song about love and loss. you hit the runway, and his eyes find you immediately, intense and unblinking. the crowd senses the connectionâcameras catch you hesitating for a moment, his voice faltering on, âthought you were gone.â and social media eats it up.
singer!choso tracks you down backstage, still sweaty from the stage. youâre in heels and diamonds, catching your breath. ây/n,â he says, voice low, âyouâre still stunning.â
singer!choso follows you to your hotel, paparazzi snapping grainy photos. you say itâs âjust to talk,â but heâs kissing you at the door, desperate, âi missed you so much.â you tug his shirt off, âneed you now.â clothes fall fast, and youâre tangled in bed, bodies pressed close.
singer!choso drops to his knees, eyes glistening, âlet me make you feel good.â his tongue moves deep, moaning, âyou taste so good.â you grab his hair, gasping, and heâs crying, âthought iâd never have you.â he keeps going until you cum, trembling, his tears mixing with your release as he kisses your thighs.
singer!choso is aching, breathing hard, âyour turn, baby.â he guides you to suck him, âfuck, just like that.â tears fall as you take him deep, his voice shaky, âyouâre so prettyâwanted this for years.â he praises you, âlove you, always,â and cums hard, sobbing, gripping your hair gently.
singer!choso pulls you close, tears still wet, âeverythingâs been hollow since you left. fame doesnât mean shit without you.â you stroke his hair, âi missed you tooâdidnât realize how much.â he holds you tight, âyouâre my everything.â
singer!choso who lays you back, âi need youâneed to feel you.â slides in slow, tears in his eyes, âfuck, youâre perfect.â he fucks you deep, voice breaking, âyouâre mine, right? say it.â you moan, âyours, choso.â heâs sobbing, âlove youâalways will,â moving with desperate need, holding you like youâll vanish.
singer!choso who picks up speed, hands gripping your hips, âcanât stopâneed you too much.â heâs possessive, ânobody else gets youâonly me.â you nod, âonly you,â and heâs wrecked, âgonna fuck you âtil youâre mine forever.â tears stream down his face, âthought i lost youânever again.â
singer!choso who is close, voice trembling, âgonna cumâcan i stay inside?â you nod, and heâs sobbing, âfuck, youâre mine.â thrusts hard until you both cum, him spilling deep, âtake itâlove you.â he collapses, tears soaking your skin, whispering, âdonât leave me again.â
singer!choso who holds you close, still emotional, âevery song was about youâcouldnât let go.â you murmur, âiâm here now.â he kisses you softly, âjust donât go.â you fall asleep in his arms, his warmth wrapping around you, both of you finally at peace, even if just for now.
singer!choso who wakes to chaosâtwitterâs buzzing: âchoso and y/n reunion at vs show?!â paparazzi photos of you leaving the hotel are everywhere. headlines speculate, âexes back together?â fans scream, âthe songs were her!â your team pushes you to deny it, but choso posts a lyric, âfound my heart.â itâs clearly you <3
less "preacher's daughter" readers and other christianity based sinners fics.. more spiritual reader.. rootwork/hoodoo practitioner reader.. witch reader.. medicine woman reader.. chief's daughter.. idfk.. pls