#black reader fluff

You were recently offered an offical reporting job at the Daily Planet after moving to the big city of Metropolisis to create a name for yourself. 

You were sharp, calculated and organized both out in the field and in the office. You would usually be the first to clock in the morning and the last one to clock out, always with the confidence and compsure that seemed to radiate from you. 

Clark and you were polar opposites, graviating to each other like a moth to a flame.

And the office loved you. You pride yourself in the high standard that you kept yourself, truly believing that a good manifestation on the outside contributed to your mood — especially on long nights spent hunched over your keyboard.

You would come into the office with a new look almost every week — freshly mancured nails, a new bag or purse and a different hairstyle that framed your face perfectly.

You sauntered into the office this week with long braids dropping down your back, adorned with gold hair jewerly and slick edges. The jewels caught the early morning light filtering through the dusty office windows, framing you in a golden halo as you greeted your coworkers.

You brought sun and light into the room, lifting up spirits of a long work Monday. Cat switched her hips over to you with a pleased smile, patting your waist as she passed. "Beautiful as always, love."

You tap her hip with your own and smile warmly. "Thanks Cat." However, you seem distracted, cutting quick glances around the cubicles.

Lingering on one desk in particular.

A snort breaks you out of your pondering. Jimmy pushes over to you in his swivel chair with a knowing look. "Clark isn't here yet, as always. The guy just has to be late." 

"I... wasn't looking for him," you mumble. Lois is standing beside your desk under the televison, watching the newscast of a breaking story.

She shakes your head at your clear lie. You slide in place beside her, eyes flickering up to the screen.

She's chewing absentmidely on the tip of her pencil, watching the streak of blue and red on the screen with a sharp percision in her light-blue eyes. 

"Another train derailment?" you question. There were two last week and now one today — your brain already firing on an investigative lead into Metropolis old subway lines. 

She hums. On the screen, strong arms push back the train before it crashes onto its side. A red cape billows to the side, revealing the man everyone's been talking about for the past couple months since his debut. Superman.

His face is blurry in the footage, but you catch the kind tilt of his smile and crinkle of his eyes as he helps passagers out the train with a delicate touch that betrays his strength.

He was the obvious news lead — but no one could seem to get an interview with him. Except for one curly-haired member of the office, making first page whenever Superman saved yet another life.

Your brain drifts off as you watch the solid frame fly off in a blur, avoiding the camera pointed at him for questioning. So elusive.

However, you were more focused on the passagers of the train as one lady, a mother of three, said she didn't know how she was going to cover her late shift in time.

Those stories interested you — not so much the talk of the town, the reporters dream study. 

Metropolis old subway lines… maybe you could contact your lead in the local government to inquire where the funds are going for new construction…

"Get back to work in there! We have deadlines, people." Perry's voice booms from his office, causing you and all the other journalists to scatter to their desks.

Commotion from the elevator makes you pause from tidying up your desk. A familar large figure sporting messy dark curls easily comes into view— towering many of the other staff members.

You hear him mumble out an apology as he almost crashes into someone, weaving through the office to get to his chair.

Clark stumbles a bit as he meets your eye. A warm smile curls his lips as he takes you in, looking more like a deer in headlights than a six-foot-two man. 

"Golly…" you hear Clark say clear as day, still staring at you as if in a trance. His framed eyes flicker across your apperance. That crooked, heart fluttering smile spreading on his lips makes your heart jump traitorously.

You blink. “Golly?” you say incredulously, wondering if you heard him right. “Did you just say… golly?”

Clark immediately stutters out a response, breaking eye contact as his ears flush pink. He pushes up his lopsided glasses on his nose as he sits down at his desk. "I—I meant to say… you look good. Great! You look great. As always." 

You feel a laugh bubble in the back of your throat. Clark was always like this —your polar opposite. A bit of a fumbling mess, but well-intentioned. You both balance each other out and despite yourself, you always look forward to his late entrances.

“You said that last week, too. That’s all you got, Smallville?” your mouth quirks in a smirk at his flustered state. The flush spreads down his neck at the nickname you fondly call him.

Jimmy whisles from his desk, putting a call on mute to laugh out "Get to work, lovebirds. Perry's really gonna fire you one day, buddy."

That makes you both flush, turning away from each other to get to work and ignore the unsaid thing simmering between you two.

Today is different. Today is not one of your good days. 

You briskly exit out the elevator and scurry to your cubicle, hoping no one realizes your late entrance. 

Of course, your coworkers do.

“You’re fifteen minutes late!” Jimmy saids with evident shock on his face, popping his head up from his cubicle to look at you.

“Fifteen more minutes later than Clark, might I add. Which is like, a record.” Lois chims in helpfully from the coffee machine, tapping her watch. “What’s kept you?" 

Her blue eyes wisfully watch as you cross across the tile towards your desk. Taking in your haggard appearance — clothes wrinkled, bags under your eyes, no jewerly dangling from your ears or outwardly casting your shine into the room.

You look uncharastically dull, as if a real raincloud was hovering over you since you entered the Daily Planet.

You grumble under your breath as you scan the office for your boss. Hoping and praying to the gods above that Perry doesn’t catch you coming in this late. You never come in late, and you didn't want your perfect track record to be tarnished — or to be chewed out by him with everyone watching.

"Thanks for the observation, guys.” you hiss, out of breath but thankfully seeing no Perry.

As you approach your desk you see a familiar mess of black curls from the cubicle across from you. Clark is so large that you can easily make out his broad shoulders from across the room.

You feel some of the anxiety roll off your back at the sight of him— something about his mere presence made you feel secure. Safe. Protected.

“Morning Clark.” you sigh, sliding into your office chair and starting to quickly unpack your materials.

“Morning.” Clark sweetly says back, that little lopsided smile on his face as he turns in his chair to see you. It quickly falters as he takes in haggard apperance.

“Long morning?” he says softly and you hear the scrape of his office chair as you groan loudly. “You could say that again. My microwave and oven broke this morning and my stupid landlord won’t come to fix it. Says it’s a user error—“

You don’t realize your ranting at this point, putting down your items with more force than needed as you yank open your laptop. “And on top of that my cat decided to scratch up my brand new couch to shreds last night—!” 

Failing your arms in the air, you hear a soft grunt behind you. A solid block of muscle, similar to a concrete wall, collides into your elbow.

“Oh god— Clark I'm so sorry!” Your eyes widened as you yank your hands down. Clark just smiles kindly down at you. He was leaning on the wall of your cupicle with a cup of coffee in his hand, silently listening to your worries.

“It’s okay. Here.” he slid the coffee to your desk and you take a sip — of course just how you like it. Your stomach did a funny little flip at the taste.

You curl your hands around the cup and hide a smile against the rim, letting the warmth ground you for a second. "Thanks Clark. You're so sweet to me." 

You hear him clear his throat at that, spying a soft blush rising above his collar.

There was a beat of silence as he lingered at your desk, shuffling his feet. You watched him fix the crooked black frames on his face before glancing down at you with those cerulean blue eyes. 

"You know.." he hesitantly mumbles, “I… I could come help you with all that after work, if you want.”

You look up at him with wide eyes —a small hush goes through the newsroom as the coworkers around you turn to do the same. 

Lois gives you a knowing look as her heels click past to the break room. Jimmy is smirking into his mug off to the side of you, lips jutting out in a funny purse.

“I-I mean! Y'know it just seems like a lot of work and… and you look stressed.” Clark fumbles, neck and cheeks further heating up under everyone’s stare. His Kansas accent comes out when he gets embarrassed — low and warm like honey in your throat.

His voice drops to something softer as he meets your stunned eyes, “I’m stronger than I look. Farm boy remember? Let me help you?”

And how could you say no to your deceptively cute coworker, bascially pleading to assist you?

Your face breaks into a bashful smile.“I would appreciate that a lot. Wait for me after the evening debrief?”

His smile is radiant as he beams down at you. Like it was molded by the sun itself. “Of course. I’ll let you get to it then… and don’t worry about Perry. You’ve covered for me plenty, if he asks I’ll just say you went on a run for me.”

A saint. Clark Kent is a saint — you're personal angel. You thank the heavens a thousand times over and try not to dewell on the fact that your office crush is coming over to your apartment in the next few hours.

You burrow into your thick jacket with a shiver on the steps of the Daily Planet. It's nearing the end of fall, which means the nights are becoming more brisk and chillier. 

A familiar ginger man and dark-haired woman exit the building towards you. You wave before stuffing your hand back into your pocket, wishing you brought gloves.

You watch as Jimmy slips Lois a ten dollar bill — trying to be descrete, but failing when his large nylon coat makes noise. You blink between them, raising your eyebrows in disbelief. "Did you two bet on me?!"

Lois shrugs. "Not on you, on Clark." She pats your shoulder affectionately before hopping in a taxi. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun!"

You whip your head to glare at Jimmy. He gives you a toothy grin before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "In our defense the whole office is in on it. I bet he wouldn't have the guts to ask you out by the end of the month."

Jimmy winks at you, "I'm glad I was wrong though. Clark's a great guy. See ya'." 

You shake your head and bite back a smile as he retreats away down the street. Although he left, your friends words linger in your head. You might have feelings for Clark, but it was hard to tell if he felt the same way.

His farmboy upbringing taught him manners that he carried wherever he went. He was polite and kind to everyone. What if he was just… being nice by offering to help you fix up your apartment? Playing the role of a concerned coworker?

The metallic taste of blood wets your tounge. Snapping out of your daze, you realize with a start that you've been chewing on your lip. Your watch reads way past the meeting time. Clark should've came out after Jimmy and Lois.

Frowning, you go to rifle through your bag to give him a call. A dull pang shoots through you — did he stand you up? Or did he forget entierly?

However before you can dial him, a sudden gust of wind pushes you almost clear off the steps. Yelping in surprise you fumble with your phone — and try to catch yourself before meeting an untimely demise in the front of your workplace.

A firm arm presses against the small of your back, saving you from your tumble. You blink up in disarray to meet familiar blue eyes. 

Clark.

He looks equally as frazzled, panting as if he just ran a lap downtown. You both stand almost chest-to-chest on the steps, his warm hand keeping you from falling backwards onto the cobblestone.

His glasses are completely skewed on his face as if he had just shoved them on, face flushed a light pink at the proximity. And his curls look devastatingly soft this close up…

You realize your staring — and haven't moved — a little too late. Quickly you detach from him with a hoarse laugh. "Clark! There you are. I've been waiting here for the past couple mintues…"

He cleares his throat, looking up at the sky before back at you with an apologetic face. "I didn't mean to be late. Perry, um… Perry had to pull me aside to talk about my next article."

That seemed very unlikely, as your boss hated people in his office past hours. Or during hours, to be exact. But he did look genuinely apologetic — and so you let it go with a nod. You don't point out his wind-ruffled clothes or hard breathing.

You tell him that your apartment isn't close to the building and that you would need to take the train. Clark quickly refuses, bringing up the derailment earlier today before calling a cab on his own expense.

The ride is quiet, save for the festive singing on the radio although it's still a bit early for Christmas carols. Clark is so large that he's practically bent in his seat, trying his best to shrink and give you more space in the tight cab. 

You try to ignore the feeling of his body heat radiating from his hunched form. Or the way his eyes look over to you before darting to watch the streets wizz past out the window.

Your knee brushes against his — neither of you pull away.

Soon you both are dropped off at the front of your complex.

"Excuse me if I'm about to sound rude…" Clark slowly says, his neck on a swivel as you enter your apartment complex. "But you live.. here? Crimes really high around this place."

You sigh as you make your way up the stairs. You know you don't live in the glamorous parts of the city. You live farther on Metropolis edge, where rent is cheaper and crime is higher. "I'm well aware. It was the only place I could find in a pinch when I first moved here."

And it's in my price range… you thought silently. It wasn't a secret that a journalist salary wasn't high, but you knew that before leaving your hometown for the busling city. It wasn't ideal to live out here, sure, but it was your chance to make a name for yourself.

You fiddle with the key before pushing open the door to your apartment. "Welcome in," you say a bit shyly, showing him where to hang his coat. 

Nerves suddenly bubble in your throat — this was the first time you've had someone over. Usually, you opted to spend time at other — nicer — apartments in the better parts of the city. You felt a bit exposed as Clark turned to walk further into the living room.

Warm string lights hung around the room, casting the space in a warm glow. It was cozy — it was clear you did the most you could to make the small space welcoming. The couch looked worn but soft, with a tv and coffee table full of notebooks and scribbled pads of paper.

"I like what you've done with the place. It's… homey." Clark says earnestly, his voice betraying something almost… intimate, that soft drawl that has you squirming. He looks at the framed photos lining the wall, stopping in front of a gold-rimmed frame. 

Your first atticle at the Daily Planet is framed in the walkway. He smiles at the sight of it — it isn't front page, but clearly meant a lot to you. Your first published article at your dream job.

A meow from under the couch makes you chuckle. You coo at the furry shape underneath the cusions, two large eyes staring up at Clark wairily. "She's not use to guests, but she's harmless." 

Clark slowly steps closer and spies the scratch marks along the foot of the couch. "Well, maybe not completely harmless." you grumble, before crossing to clear off the coffee table.

Acutely aware of his large side, Clark stands a respectable distance from the couch and your cat, instead glancing down at your notes curiously. 

There was a lot of research — articles on local law and governemnt, contacts, all potential stories. But one thing was missing in your collection: a distinct figure that was head of all major news outlets.

"I've always wondered. Why don't you want to get a interview with him?" Clark asks hesitantly. His shaky voice betrays his nerves, as if worried your answer would be some hateful spew about the superhero in red.

You laugh and pick up one of the notes littering your coffee table. "It's not that I don't want to. Everyone wants a piece of Superman. Landing a interview with him is like, immediate front-page quality."

You look up and arch an eyebrow at Clark. "Which I'm sure you know well."

Your voice is teasing but he still looks away from you, embarrassed as he swallows dryly. His hands push up his dress shirt past his forearms, and you're momentarily distracted by the appreciatve size of them.

When you continue, your voice is softer. "I just… want to focus on the smaller voices too, you know? Local issues in Metropolis. Like the train this morning that sets hundreds of hard-workers late for their jobs, or LexCorp possibly embellishing money from local businesses—“

Clark visibly tenses up then at the mention of the multi-billion dollar company. Your reporter brain immediately wants to latch onto it, and you open your mouth to speak, but he quickly steers the conversation back before you get the chance.

"What I meant by my question is that not a lot of people care about that stuff. I think it's really important, and honest. You… you're someting special."

He doesn't stumble over his words when he says it. When you look into his blue eyes you see a warmth similar to the one he levels with you in the office.

Your heart stutters at his soft voice. Suddenly, your very aware of how close you two are in your small living room. How quiet everything is. That thing again — something unsaid, swelling tenfold at his words.

You laugh to clear the tension, defalting back to your teasing remarks in a dire attempt to hide the flush you feel searing your bones. "I don't know how I should take that, coming from Superman's number one fan."

Clark makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat. "I-I am not!"

"Mhm, sure. And you also didn't get three interviews with him last month. My toolbox is in the closet to the left."

You busy yourself with cleaning up your apartment as Clark fixes your applicances. You hear humming from Clark in the kitchen — some punk rock, upbeat song that makes you smile secretly to yourself. 

He returns thirty mintues later with a satified smile. "Fixed," he says proudly.

"That fast?" you say in surprise, but sure enough, the microwave is back on and so is the oven. 

You whisle low. "Wow Smallville. You're pretty useful. I might just have to keep you around."

Clark smiles bashfully at that. A silence stretches between you two. He hovers at the edge of your kitchen, leaning slightly on the frame. The way he looks at you… that soft, silent look that has your stomach tying itself in knots.

He then clears his throat, glancing at his watch with a sigh. "I… better go now. Early work day tomorrow." His laugh tries to be light, airy, but it sounds almost regretful. 

You feel yourself deflate slightly. Your hands wring at the decorate towel on the oven, eyes flickering from him to the door.

It was late. And it was definitely indecent for him to stay. But… but…

Before he can reach for his bag you quickly stop him. "Why don't you stay for dinner?" Your voice cracks on the last work and you cringe inwardly. So much for smooth. 

But the chance, this chance, a rare moment of having Clark Kent — bumbling, kind, sweet, strong Clark who you've silently been obsessed with all these months — all to yourself. You would be damned to let it slip from your fingers this easily. 

His blue eyes met yours and you hope you don't mistake the spark of joy in them. A grin stretches across his face at your words, shoulders slumping as if he let out a breath he was holding all night. 

"That would be amazing!" Clark says earnestly and your grin mirrors his own, letting out your own tense breath. 

You swing open your fridge door — but upon closer inspection you quickly realize you might have gave the invitaiton too soon. The only thing sitting on the shelves was a loaf of bread, half a carton of eggs and some bacon.

Laughing awkwardly, you glance back at him with an apologetic grin. "I meant to go grocery shopping after work…"

Clark eases into your space to look over your shoulder. You gulp, feeling his sturdy back brush against your shoulder. The sheer size of him was almost comical, casting a shadow over you. 

His breath, warm against your ear, hummed out a casual "I can work with this."

He reaches around you with ease, grabbing the ingredients and going to stand in front of the stove. You blink owishly at him.

"Breakfast?" you question.

"For dinner." he completes, throwing a boyish grin over his shoulder. "It's my favorite thing to make after a long day."

The laughter that bubbles out from you is light and infectious. You take his prior place, leaning against the frame of your kitchen. "As long as it's edible." you tease. You watch his shoulders shake in mirth.

You then slide into place beside him, popping toast into the toaster as Clark whisks the eggs. Something about the routine feels oodly domestic — the way your bodies naturally weave around each other in the kitchen, grabbing cups and setting down plates.

And you can't ignore the way your hands brush against each other… but don't quickly pull away. When he reaches above you for seasonings at your request and his shoulder bumps yours. Or when he steps around you and your hips touch.

Every little fleeting touch sends lighting strikes through you, hope blossoming in your chest at every smile he gives you, every chuckle you pull from his lips.

You steal a glance at Clark whisking the eggs. He looks relaxed, with his sleeves pulled up on strong forearms. His eyes are concentrated down towards the metallic bowl, glasses slipping down his nose as turns to toss them in the sizzling pan.

He catches your eye and tilts his head. "What's on your mind? You've been quiet." he mumbles across the space to you, looking sideways at you while adding in the bacon.

You shake your head with a soft laugh, re-focusing back on the hot tea you were brewing. "Just wondering how you're so good at everything. Cooking, fixing up around the house. You're like, the perfect man. Everyone in the office thinks it."

Clark chuckles at that — but his breath catches too. He pulls his lips between his teeth, eyes darting from you and back to the pan. The wooden spacula in his grip whines as his fist clenches.

"Is— do you… think that too?" His voice is hesitant and low, rough in a way you haven't heard it before. The heat in it is unmistakable, trembling in his throat. 

You freeze over the mugs below you. Clark shifts towards you, food forgotton as his voice carries closer. The air felt spiked, different, charged in only the blink of an eye.

"I…" you hesitate over the words. Two large hands settle on your waist before spinning you around. You gasp out in suprise, hands coming up to press against his chest. 

You feel the erratic beat bump bump bump of his heart underneath your fingertips. 

"Forgive me… if I'm being too forward." His hand takes yours in his before pressing a sweet kiss to it. Reverent. Soft. Lingering. You want to burn the feeling of his soft lips and delicate touch on you forever.

Clark looks up into your eyes, pupiles dark and blown. You spied the familiar flush on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lashes pulled low.

"This is probably inappropriate for— for the office. But I've always thought you were amazing. Ever since you first came in. You care so much about others. It's… inspiring. You inspire everyone."

His voice cracked in emotion, "and most of all you inspire me."

He took a shuttering breath before his words tumbled from his mouth, "I want to be there— helping you chase every case. Finding leads. Helping you grow both in the office and in your daily life. Even hopefully getting in good graces with your cat—"

You surge forward and press your lips to his. Clark's nervous rambling dies in his throat — his pulse falters. But he quickly adapts. He presses you to the counter with a light groan.

The kiss is searing — his arms lifting you up and onto the counter as you wrap your arms around his neck. "I like you too Clark." you mumble against his lips, breathless as his lips chase your when you pull away. His dimple pokes out in a grin. 

He pecks the corners of your mouth, basking in your laughter. "Gods— you don't know how long I've been waiting for this. For you." 

You press your forehead against his with a content sigh. You simply breath each other in — that is, until an unpleasent aroma has you jolting up.

Smoke. "The eggs!"

Clark's eyes widen comically and he detaches from you, snatching the forgotton charred lump from your stove. You can't help but giggle at his pout. "It's alright. We can order something in."

"But… for burning the last of my eggs, you'll need to help me get a new couch tomorrow after work," your voice curves in a mischievous lit, eyes sparkling in unmasked joy.

Clark grins at that with a quick peck to your cheek. "Of course. Whatever you want. I'm yours."

“Speaking of ass, it’s been three days since you’ve moved off of this couch. Why don’t you go wash and quit stinking up my house?”

“Yeah, it’s just ripe enough for you to kiss it. Like I said, you can stop bothering me and throwing your goddamn hissy fit. I’m not going anywhere. Seeing as how you can’t be left to your own devices.”

The words read more like an insult rather than a serious statement. But truth be told, he wasn’t joking…in fact, nothing about this entire situation was a game to him. Because just three days ago, it was a rather bleak scene taking place in this very living room…one that neither of you wanted to relive or even discuss. But it was necessary if you ever wanted to clear the air or stop feeling as though you wanted to strangle one another!

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember asking you or anyone else to concern themselves with me. I’m fine, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself—“

Just as the words left your mouth, you’d be hit with an unbearable pain in the left side of your chest and the device attached to it would begin flashing. Immediately, Ryomen would jump up from the couch and rush to your side…

“(Y/N)! What’s wrong?—“

…only to be met with rejection and a swatting hand. However, it didn’t phase him. He didn’t take any of your vitriol or anger personally. Because he knew that mentally, you were at your breaking point. As well as physically….the truth of the matter was, you were dealing with a serious heart condition that had been brought on by what could only be described as ‘years of compounding stress and unhealthy habits.’ Not so much in the sense of consuming fatty foods or caffeine. But instead, absorbing people’s bullshit…people pleasing and running yourself ragged for other people’s gain. Only to be left with the possibility of open heart surgery at the tender age of your mid twenties. Even so, if Ryomen had anything to say about it, he wasn’t going to sit here and watch you put yourself into an early grave!

“See?! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You and that stubborn ass attitude…you don’t want anyone to help you and for what?”

“Exactly. For what? For it to be thrown back in my face later on? For you to control me like I’m some impotent fucking child? I think not. I’ve fought too hard to be self-sufficient and I’m not going back..”

Once the words left your mouth, it all made a little more sense to your neighbor. He’d never been much in the way of understanding the complexities that were human emotions. If he was being completely honest, he never gave much of a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own. But somehow, after almost a year of being in your life, that sentiment had almost flipped. You gave him something worth caring about and when you managed to open up to him about your journey from leaving what sounded like nothing short of a religious cult to being in your own space, he understood why you felt the way you did ... .why you didn’t want to have to answer to anyone. Coming from a background that rewarded suffering and hyperindepence. As long as it was in service to the men and supposedly God himself. You were taught to want or ask for nothing and if a time ever came like this one, for example. Where you required medical assistance…rather than being met with kindness, empathy and grace, you were met with shame and impatience. Often being told that you were taking away from the Lord. Which was really code for ‘you’re not serving these false prophets and perverts so you’re useless.’

Truthfully, the more he learned about it, the more Ryomen began to despise God for allowing you to be in such a situation. He understood that deconstructing you from this mentality was going to require a lot of time and patience, and he was willing to give you as much space as you desired…but he couldn’t be vexed right now. Not when your very life was at stake…

“And I guess throwing it all away and dying alone in the middle of your living room would be a more dignified way to go, right? You’re a damn fool if I’ve ever heard one.”

The words stung like bees to exposed flesh and you’d release a sharp gasp, followed by a nasty scowl as you scooted away from him. But he didn’t care if it hurt your feelings. It was the truth and you needed to hear it before it was too late.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? How helpless I felt seeing you lying on this floor, barely conscious and in pain?….(y/n), I thought you were going to die. I wasn’t thinking about whether or not I was overstepping boundaries or undermining you because the only thing on my mind was what I’d do if you were gone.”

Amidst his confession, you’d see the glare in his eyes soften. There was a lot more to the story than you’d been previously told as well…he remained right beside you from the time you exited the ambulance until the day you left the hospital, a week and a half later. He’d learn that you had been born with a congenital heart disease that had been left undiagnosed or untreated due to lack of care in that hellscape. It'd never reared its ugly head until now. Which in a way, made Ryo thankful. Because he was positive those clowns would’ve let you die. It had been exacerbated by years of worry and turmoil. Now that you were on your own, you were burdened by the everyday responsibilities of paying bills, cleaning, working two jobs and trying to pursue a formal education. Not to mention the daily chores that never end and running off of caffeine to sustain.

As you lay nearly comatose for two days, sedated on medication…he washed you off, styled your hair with the help of a nurse, kept your room clean and tidy and even questioned the nurses on what he could do to help you once you came home. Hell, he even risked getting banned and arrested after a PA implied that this condition was the result of you being overweight and that you may have even been faking it in hopes of getting medication because that’s what “they” all did. All but catching the guy leaving the parking lot after work and threatening to beat him into a permanent slumber if he ever spoke about you in such a manner again.

Even when you awoke, he was there…spoon feeding you meals and doing everything in his power to make you comfortable. You’d notice that his eyes had been puffy and bloodshot. From a combination of insufficient sleep and excess crying…something he’d never let you know in a million years! Nonetheless, he showed up for you without any ulterior motive or agenda. He just wanted you to heal and be healthy.

“I don’t give a damn if you push, kick or slap me away. I’m not going to leave you to suffer alone. You’ve done that far long enough…

That very sentence caused your entire mind to spin. Your now widened gaze met his and he’d reach over to grasp your hands, hoping that you believed him.

“…and there isn’t a single thing I want to take. Not your independence, not your place or this life you’ve built for yourself. If anything, I salute you on how hard you’ve worked. I just want to do everything I can to make it easier. Even if it sounds like bullshit and every man before has hooked you on some false sense of hope. You don’t have to believe a word I say…but I will not let you waste away just for you to feel vindicated.”

In that moment, it was as if something inside of you just broke. You’d been so blinded by your need to prove people wrong and make it of your own accord, that you didn’t realize that you still needed community. You still needed people around and all Ryo wanted was to be a safe space. Someone you could depend on anytime. All of the things he’d done for you thus far never came with a condition. Which in his position and line of work, could be made possible very easily. Just then, your harsh gaze melted into a pout and eventually a well of tears.

“Don’t cry—look, I’m sorry—“

But there wasn’t anything he needed to apologize for. It was you that had been unreasonable this entire time…

“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry…I’ve just been working so hard not to fail. Not to have to go back home and face the shame of not being able to make it on my own that I didn’t realize I was neglecting myself. And I pushed you away like a fucking idiot because I thought you’d be just like all the others…I hope you can forgive me, Ryo. I’ve been really stupid.”

Little did you know, he couldn’t stay mad at you even if you set his car on fire and robbed him blind. At this point, he was so madly in love, you could do no wrong in his eyes…all he wanted was to care for you in a way that may have felt foreign now but would soon become so familiar, you won’t remember a thing about the past. Reaching over as you both sat on the floor, he’d extend those long, toned, tattooed arms and cradle you in an embrace.

“Shut up…I couldn’t do anything less than love you…even if sometimes you give me the urge to bite through the drywall.” Playfully teasing you. Alas though, he meant every word.

“But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’ll protect you no matter what and anything you need, I’ll make it happen. Just promise me you’ll stop being a brat and let me be that for you..”

“Of course I will…I love you and I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done.”

With the quarrel coming to an end and the two of you making amends, it would seem that everything was going to be just fine. You’d have to learn to navigate life with this new diagnosis but fortunately, you didn’t need to struggle by your lonesome. You had the best support a girl could ask for.

Cupping those plush cheeks into his much larger palms, Ryo placed a kiss atop your forehead before moving to your mouth, where he’d allow your tongues to clash. Turning the tender moment into a steamy makeout session.

“Y’know, I think I have a good way to help alleviate that heart problem of yours…it’ll knock that stress right out.”

“I think you mean it’ll spike my heart rate.”

Immediately breaking into a smirk, he’d merely stand to his feet and scoop you into his grasp right after. His ability to make you feel absolutely weightless in his arms was not only a testament to his strength but his affection for you as well. A perfect analogy to how he’d always uplift you even when everything felt heavy.

Word Count: 4.8k (most of it is the smut part lol).

Fresh sea water dripped from your scalp onto the lower section of your back, releasing a calming chill that relaxed the tense muscles of your shoulders.

The day was still fresh, sun dripping through the thin white drooped curtains of Rafayel’s Studio with a pleasant evening glow. The two of you had just returned from the beach, a public one far too long a drive from his house for your liking.

You were tired and spent, all you wanted to do after basking under the warmth of the sun was rest, maybe finish the romance book you got from the Linkon City Mall tonight.

You were already aligned with the clock, book

In hand as you skimmed through the pages of a love story build up while Rafayel carefully detangled and rid you of your braids from behind.

The echo of the beads in your hair ricocheted in the semi quiet studio along with the soothing sound of Rafayel humming a light melody in your ear and the rushing ocean waves clashing against rocks outside.

“I’m almost done, I just have a few more rows left to detangle. How’s the book?” You hum, adjusting your gaze from the scrambled words in front of you to a set of playful iridescent eyes gleaming over your shoulder. “It’s ok, it’s just a bit mediocre.” “Oh really, how so?”

You cough into your hand, clearing your throat as you flick back a few pages to a section you left moments before, you put on your best to put on a serious narrative , “She wasn’t like anything Edward had seen, she was mysterious, tall and beautiful, and the nail on the coffin, is she wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.” Rafayel leans into the wet texture of your scalp, eyes following along with the words from your mouth to the words on the page as you recite countless corny phrases that make the both of you cringe into one another.

“Wait–“ he sits up again, starting to detangle a section he was working on once again “don’t stop reading, I like stupid books like this. Besides, it’ll keep me entertained.”

You shoot him an unserious glare, licking your lip before flipping to the next page. “Is my company not entertaining enough for you?” He raises a hand in mock defense, the other gliding through your hair with a rat tail comb. “C’mon, cutie, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but give a small one back in return. You continue reading, filling the set silence with the melodic sound of your voice. Rafayel’s nose would grow ten inches if he said he asked you to read out loud from pure interest in the literature alone. Your voice challenged the greatest melodies that grazed the Earth in his opinion. It was a blessing to hear how words rolled sweetly off your tongue.

It soothed him unlike any medicine the world had to offer.

The two of you leaned into one another as you continued to read, neither of you knew what was next, it was honestly hilarious to you how Rafayel’s face scrunched up in disgust at all the male leads lines. It was just what you needed after a long day.

—

Time was wearing thin, the fresh blues of the evening skies that shined through the window were now a hazy dark orange that basked the two of you in a beautiful tangerine. Rafayel was on the last section of your hair, and you were on the near end of this…”interesting” book. You shift the crinkled page away to reveal the last chapter, the main leads had already got together at this point, kissing all the way up in an elevator to the male lead's high class suite. You had to catch yourself quite a few times, some words making the corner of your ears and cheeks warm in embarrassment from how lewd the details were. The author may have made the overall story cliche, but damn did she know how to write a good sex scene.

You tried to stop, close the book, but Rafayel urged you to continue, rubbing your shoulder with one of his free hands. “Are you gonna finish the book, cutie? Or should I take your place?”

Despite his protest, Rafayel didn’t say a single word as you read. He let you read up until the kiss scene, he let you read up until Edward had Alica sprawled out on his silken sheets, he let you read as you described how the bedroom was practically torn apart as the two clawed at each other.

He let you read all of it, he’d be a dirty liar to say hearing your honeyed voice read such a provocative story didn’t create a large bulge in his swim trunks.

Well, it’s not like he’d have to say much at all if you looked hard enough.

“Okay—I think that’s enough for today.” You shut the book closed in a single motion as you feel the last braid in your hair unravel into its natural texture. You were beyond embarrassed reading such a thing in front of your boyfriend, but you don’t know why you didn’t have the strength to stop.

The smell between your legs lingered with arousal, your puffy clit pulsing lightly against the thick fabric of your swimsuit. A normal glance between your thighs could confuse your puddled slick as ocean water, but Rafayel wasn’t normal, he could smell the need oozing from your very core like it was a perfume sprayed into the air of his studio.

And damn did it turn him on.

“You’re done, right? I’m gonna take a shower.” You shuffle the book behind your back, trying to hide the cause of the shame that came from your mouth moments earlier. You lean up to stand, wanting to distance yourself as much as possible from the silence. It felt too awkward now.

As you stand up to leave a soft tug pulls you back to Earth. You were seated snug on Rafayel’s lap, your heaving chest pressed flush against his own rapid one. His cheeks were pink, ears flushed out and warm to the touch. You shifted, and you could feel the emptiness between the two of you connect with his bulge. He felt huge, and the way he gripped your plush body to his made your clothed cunt drag deliciously across the semi hard surface.

“Don’t—“ he let go of your wrist, grabbing the small of your back to pull you in closer, like he wasn’t satisfied with the distance enough. “You read that kind of stuff all the time?” He was comfortably uncomfortably close, his nose brushing against yours as his breath fanned across your already warm skin. You shake your head timidly as your eyes trail down to the floor to avoid the intensity of his gaze. You lick your dried lip, trying to avert your attention on a small pencil near his art desk.

“It’s not like I got that on purpose. I just picked up a random book.”

He kissed your temple, his lips felt like lava against your already burning skin, the fact the two of you were panting softly onto one another didn’t help either. He brushed his hand over your damp hair, pulling you deeper into him as he possibly could as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing your aroma like it was an aphrodisiac. “You’re soaking, I can smell it all over you, baby..did you like the story that much?” His voice was unbearably gentle, so honeyed and light against your skin. He wasn’t judging you, not at all, his tone was exasperated, it didn’t take much from you to make him feel like mush.

Your eyes flutter open in shock, embarrassment? You couldn’t tell. Was there more about his body that you didn’t know about? What did he mean he could “smell you?” Did Lemurians really have senses that high?

“Did you like the type of things he did to her?” He takes your palm again, tracing the inner skin along your veins with the dull tip of his nail. “You want me to do that to you, don’t you.” It was more a statement than a question, he didn’t need an answer when you were already so worked up against him, already dripping down your inner thighs like a sweet soda for him to slurp whole.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Answer me.”

You swallow the sharp lump in your throat, seating yourself back to gaze into the pussy drunk expression on your boyfriend’s face. He rubs your thigh, urging you to tell him the truth you both already know. You nod your head, hands resting on his chest as you feel his estranged heartbeat pulse against your palm.

“I’ve thought about rough kinks like that, yeah. But I never really acted on it since we never had sex before.”

It was true, you both had been together for a good while, each time you thought you were ready to muster up the courage and ask him about it you’d chicken out. You’ve never had sex before, what if you were bad? What if you didn’t feel or taste good? What if he was disgusted with the stretch marks on your body? Endless possibilities flooded your head once again, making you scrunch your nose in self doubt. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend though, you come back to reality as his other hand slides to your cheek, focusing your attention to him alone.

“What’s on your mind, talk to me”

His thumb strokes the fat of your cheek, making all your worries temporarily disappear within a blink. You bite your lip, chewing the soft flesh nervously before you speak. “I’m a virgin, I never really thought I’d be any good in bed” his eyes soften the more you speak, thumb circling into your skin as he urges you to continue “I’m also—“ you hesitate “I’m also a bit nervous about you seeing my stretch marks. Scared you’ll think they’re ugly.”

Rafayel grabs your hand, bringing it to his soft lips as he gives it a gentle peck. “Baby, I don’t care that you’re a virgin. I am too, no one is going to be perfect on their first go.”

“And I especially don’t care if you have stretch marks..think you’re so beautiful.”

His reassurance eases your soul, you lean into his touch, nestling deep into his palm as he continues pressing gentle kisses over your knuckles. “My only priority is to make sure you feel good. Always has been.”

“I wanna make you feel good too, Rafayel..”

“Then let’s make each other feel good. Okay, baby?”

He lets out a sharp gasp at your words, grappling his gentle hands across the plush of your thighs, lightly shifting you so you’d grind into the hard bulge seated in his trunks. You breathe out, mouth catching nothing but air until he locks his lips to your own, drowning your senses onto his tongue.

Small strands of hair clung to both of your faces, you were both still damp from the beach but neither of you seemed to care. The only thing that mattered in this moment was each other. Rafayel moved his hands from your hips to your shoulders, tugging at your swimsuit straps “can I? You tell me to stop, and I’m seated. I won’t go further if you don’t—“

“I want you too, Raf, please?” A quiet plea left your lips, urging him to pull the straps down just above your stomach, stopping when he reached your exposed chest. He cupped the sides of your breasts, causing an involuntary whimper to fall from your plump lips. His thin fingers traced over your pebbled nipples, now completely hard and sensitive due to the chilled air in the studio. “You like that?”

You shiver under him, jerking your hips to him lightly for more “you do..”

Rafayel’s warm lips parted, sinking onto your breast as his tongue circled around your nipple, appreciating your rich flavor with his mouth while his free hand tended to your other neglected bud. He switched his menstruation’s, coming up for air before kissing along your chest up to your warm face.

“I’ll take you somewhere more comfortable. Wanna make sure you feel nice.” You clung to Rafayel’s wide shoulders, nails piercing into his back as he lifted you up into his arms into his dim chilled bedroom. It was still sunset, patches of orange flushed over his heated skin. The clock ticked closer to 7:00 P.M, you both had been making out that couch for a good hour.

“You look so pretty, I can’t wait to be inside you..”

he whispered soft promises into your throat, lowering you onto the satin yellow bedsheets on his giant circular bed. “Smell so sweet..”

he lowered the stringy sleeves of your swimsuit past your upper stomach, but you reached a hand out to stop him.

“What’s wrong, cutie?”

You know he said that he wouldn’t care about the shape or stretches carved into your body, but the nauseous feeling still made its way from your guts into your head, making you feel queasy at the thought of him seeing that part of you.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You rapidly shake your head, trying to collect your thoughts with shallow breaths. “No- no. I just–“ you press a hand to your chest “I’m just scared.”

Rafayel’s lips morph into a grim frown. He’d wanted your first time to be special for you, comfortable and sweet. Just seeing you degrade yourself made his chest hurt in ways he didn’t know it could. “What can I do to ease your nerves?” He lifted your hand, kissing his way down your palm to calm you down.

“I don’t know, I’m just being silly..”

“Don’t talk like that.”

You quickly retract your tongue after his stern reaction, melting into the crowd of pillows on his bed to try and hide away your shame. “I’m sorry for making all of this difficult..”

“You’re not, I’m here for you.” Rafayel’s demeanor instantly softened at your skittish state, eyes filled with a sense of guilt from his strong emotions earlier. He leans forward, whispering into the shell of your ear to ease you “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I want you to know that there’s not a thing wrong with your body.”

“I don’t think I can even worship it enough in one night, hell, even for an eternity.”

“I just want to make you feel cared for, and if you’ll let me show you..you’ll see how much you affect me. It doesn’t take much.” It never does.

You swallow a thick layer of spit down your throat, struggling to find the right words to respond, so you give a simple nod of your head, laying back onto the chilled bedsheets with your gaze fixed on the ceiling to distract yourself.

—

Your swimsuit wasn’t even fully gone yet and your body was covered in sore bites from your relentless lover. The bottom of the swimsuit hung over your sex, dangling over your barely visible pussy. Each patch of exposed skin exposed to the thin air would be replaced by Rafayel’s mouth as he worshiped every curve of your body with light kisses and gentle bites that lightly stung your skin.

The stretch marks and larger areas of your body were met with a gentleness, Rafayel traces all your scars, with light kisses of his tongue, memorizing the pattern of your skin like a puzzle. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

The scent between your thighs was a damn drug. Inch by inch Rafayel roamed, kissing your whole body until he was met with the last tug that would let out the most fragrant smell that ever blessed his soul.

“Look at me”

You peek your eyes down from the ceiling to shyly meet his gaze, your lip trembling beneath your teeth from the bite marks he left on your body. “There you go, don’t look away.”

A strangled moan erupted rom Rafayel’s perked lips as he took off what was left of your swimsuit, his nose burying into your thigh as he nuzzled his cheek deep into the softness of your skin. You felt so soft..smelt so good, it was hard to even focus on anything other than your honeyed arousal spilling from your warm cunt to your thighs.

He licked up the curve of your inner thigh, scooping up your essence on his tongue with a low groan of approval. You close your thighs tightly together “Rafayel— don’t smell me, it’s embarrassing!”

“Embarrassing?” His hand slips between your legs, pulling them open with little to no effort. His voice is an octave low, breath rapid and hushed, he looked too far gone. “Don’t be embarrassed..I’ll make you feel so good.”

It feels like he could just cum from the taste of you alone, his lips kiss over your quivering pussy, parting your folds with his tongue back and forth in laps, trying to convince your pussy to let out more of its nectar down your slit.

You groan, the newfound feeling foreign to your body, it felt like you had butterflies in your lower stomach. “F-Fuck, Rafayel..”

he grabs your hands, forcing your palms onto his scalp to hold on to. His arms then wrap around your thighs, lifting them up and over his shoulders so he can have better access to you.

“R-Ra—fayel!”

“Mhmm—“

“Fuck— so pretty for me..”

He mumbles into you, lips puckered over your small puffy clit as his tongue traces over the bundle of nerves in slow concentrated strokes.

You’re twitching under him, thighs trying their best to stay still from squeezing his head tight, you’re a wreck.

“Rafayel—! I think I’m gonna—!”

He hums into you, sound vibrating through your core and over your aching clit. He doesn’t stop at your warning, only urging you on as he helps build you up to the top so he can catch you when you fall.

You buck against him once

Twice

A third time, until finally you feel a snap deep within your core. You shake under his strong hold as he helps you through your orgasm, slurping and sucking your clit as you whine out into the silent room. “Let it out, let it all out, baby.”

“Ah—“

“There you go..fall for me”

He catches you, hands rubbing comforting circles on your sore thighs. A line of spit connects you to his mouth, but he pulls away, leaving you to whine from the cold loss.

“Shh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Gonna stretch you out on my fingers, ok?” His thumb circles firmly on your clit, trying to relax your body enough so there’d be little to no pain when he initially slips one in.

You’ve fingered yourself before, the feeling mediocre from your own hand alone, but you’ve never had something this long and thick inside you—ever. Rafayel had pretty hands, on the outside they were polished, soft and slender, but inside you it was a totally different story. One finger at first was fine, but then he added another, causing you to grit your teeth as a tiny pinch of pain mixed with a concept of pleasure filled your body.

“It hurts..”

Rafayel halted his fingers, rubbing his thumb over your clit once again to help open you up more. “M’sorry, baby. Do you need me to stop?”

You shake your head, furrowing your brows in concentration “no, just–just give me a second to adjust.” You sit there for a good minute, panting out as Rafayel soothingly rubs your clit, helping the subtle pain ebb past. His expression was hungry, concentrated and drunk, just the sight of you struggling to take even a mere two fingers made him breathless.

“You can move..”

He holds the side of your hip for stability before the large digits inside you spread, molding their shape in your spongy walls with ease thanks to the built up slick from your orgasm. You hiss, eyes shutting as you let out a deep sigh.

Rafayel’s thumb never lifts off your clit, rubbing thin circles into it as his thin fingers piston in and out your sex. The room was filled with your soft whimpers and lewd squelching between your thighs. His fingers were messy, inexperienced and curious, trying their best to find that spot that made your pussy drool, and when he finally did find it? You’re already arched up gasping out his name like a prayer.

“That’s your spot? I’ll pay attention to it more then..”

You clung your hand to his arm, eyes shutting tight as he abused the spot that made your legs feel like pure mush. The sound around you clouded your ears in a blur, you could barely make out that he was speaking to you.

“Eyes on me, cutie, wanna see your reaction.”

“Wanna know if I’m doing a good job”

He was doing a great job, no, more than great..you felt like you were drowning in a vast ocean of pleasure, like you were a wave ready to crash into the shore; that was all thanks to his fingers. Your lips part, drool spilling out onto your chin as you whimper his name “so good— doing so good!” You open your eyes, peeking up at his red face. He was ecstatic, drunk on your senses.

It was selfish, really selfish but he was so impatient. It was taking chains of restraint to hold him back from just shoving his cock into you. He couldn’t wait to ruin you, no one else would ever have you, you were his and his alone. He curled his fingers up, the pads sliding deliciously inside your cunt, so squishy and slippery for him. Your thighs were soaked, arousal pooling onto his sheets under your trembling body.

Your vision was hazy, mouth wet with spit as you felt that familiar feeling start to fill your senses, you were close, but something felt off, it felt like you were crashing down. Hard.

“Fuck—Rafayel!?”

“Mh?”

You clawed into the bed, nails grinding into the pillows behind you as Rafayel watched from above. You looked so beautiful like this, and it was all for him. “It feels different —like I’m gonna pee?“

Rafayel only hummed in response, it was true, he was a virgin. Never had sex, who else is there to have sex with if it’s not you? He was inexperienced, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. He’s researched every aspect of sex, every single thing he could try to make you explode. He knew what buttons to push to make you crumble.

“Rafayel- wait, I’m gonna—!”

“Fuck!”

You scream, eyes watery and blurry as you let go, muscles twitching everywhere on your body as you finally let it all out. He helped you through it all, fingers jutting softly inside you as you squirted onto his hand and lower stomach.

“Did I just? Shit, I’m sorry—”

You were still catching your breath, but you lean on your elbows, looking down to see the damage between your thighs. You were soaked, and so was the rest of the bed. Rafayel kisses your forehead, leaning down to nuzzle deeper into you. “It’s fine, I’ll clean it up later.”

“But I..”

“It’s fine. Shh. You did amazing, baby”

He holds you, rubbing your arms and stomach as you breathe out in shock and a deep sense of calm. After a while, you speak “I think I’m ok now, I think I’m ready..” he pulls away just enough to meet your eyes, nose pressed against yours as he hums. “I’ll go slow, if I hurt you, punch me.” His light joke made your eyes crinkle with a smile, lightning, your already tense nerves.

You feel like you’re anticipating a jump scare. He felt so huge from earlier, grinding himself into you even though he was hidden away by a pair of swim trunks. You didn’t want to sound perverted, but you did catch a few glances of how big his bulge was at the beach, He grabs the band of his trunks with both hands, it feels like he’s moving in slow motion to tease you. He tugs, and you can’t help but let out a sound as his hard cock springs free. He’s huge, not an unbearable amount of girth but he’s still really long. How the fuck is he going to fit inside you?

You sit up, analyzing his size as if he were a predator ready to plunge onto his prey. “Something wrong, cutie? Oh shit—“

His knees almost give out as your soft hands wrap around his dick. He’s sensitive, so turned on that pre-cum is already leaking onto your hands. “Cutie—fuck..you don’t have to, princess. I just wanna make you feel good.”

You test out the waters, stroking your firm hands up and down with hesitation. “Am I doing ok?”

“M-mhm” he praises, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark “go a little faster—that’s it..ahh/-“ your fingers felt one thousand times better than his hand, he was losing himself, cock fluttering in your hand as he whines out from above you. Your hands stutter, trying to form a beat, your efforts seem to be working. Rafayel’s face couldn’t get any pinker than this. He was shaking, he looked starved.

Sticky ropes of cum shot out of Rafayel’s twitching cock, spurting onto your face and hair. He panted harshly, lifting you up and folding you back onto the bed with your legs over his shoulders. “Fuck—can’t wait anymore, gotta be inside you, please, let me.”

You were startled by his show of strength, breath hitching as you gave a quick nod of your head. He was slow, reaching his hand down to stroke his cock before lining it up to your entrance.

“Let me know if it’s too much”

He slid in the head and you both couldn’t help from groaning out. He was so big, again his girth wasn’t insane but he was already poking a good amount into you. It wasn’t comfortable, the pleasure was small behind a sharp stretch. He slid in deeper, bottoming out slowly bottoming out til his tip kissed your cervix.

He gave you some time to adjust, kissing your eyelids and rubbing your thighs to comfort you. He almost looked heartbroken as you whimpered below him in pain.

“Sh, you’re doing so well.”

You hold him, clinging yourself under him for comfort as his cock stretches you open. It wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, your fingers—his fingers couldn’t even compare to this. “Rafayel—!”

“I know..”

“Ah—!”

“Shhh, I know.”

He kisses you, body connecting to yours because even being an inch apart makes him nervous. He wants to feel all of you, not just your inner body. He was obsessed with everything you had to give.

Once you kinda got used to his size you couldn’t help yourself. Your hips roll out, grinding him just perfectly inside you, causing him to let out a soft whimper.

“I’ll ruin you—“ he chokes out like he’s in agony, starved from your touch even though he’s almost balls deep inside of you. He’s leaking everywhere, his cum and a little blood already spurting out of your puffy folds without you even doing anything. You weren’t sure if he was ruining you or vice versa.

He stutters inside you, hips rolling, dragging his cock out of you to the tip before he slams back in. Your pussy squelched, and you would be embarrassed if it weren’t for how good you felt.

“She’s mine—“

“Fuck, you’re all mine…”

He chants into the cold air, singing out your name as he promises you his devotion with each thrust of his hips. You both have tears in your eyes, too drunk from one another to even think

“I’ll never let you go—!”

—

It’s the third time you’ve cum on his cock, but you can’t help yourself from begging for more. If Rafayel had neighbors they’d hear the two of you 5 blocks down by now. You’re screaming his name, pleading for him to fuck you harder, for him to give you what you need. He’s already at a set pace, one that already has your fourth orgasam building, He holds your leg up to get a better angle inside you, fucking his cum deep down into your depths with each thrust. You both yell out, clinging to one another with crazed hands as you both cum.

“Mhh—Fuck!!”

“Rafayel–!”

He collapses onto you, face buried into your soft Afro as he holds onto you for dear life. He’s kissing your hair, face cuddling into you, but he doesn’t pull out. “You did you good..” he praises “do you feel weird? Do you need some water?”

You shake your head, your eyes growing dreary. “I don’t think I can even lift up my hands to drink the water.” He chuckles

“I’d do it for you.”

“I know.”

…

“..Rafayel?”

“Hm?”

“Can we try some stuff from that book tomorrow morning?”

it was third period chemistry, you and jermajesty were currently planning to risk it all in the very last row. your teacher had her back turned, aggressively writing some formula on the whiteboard, which was the ultimate green light.

you nudged his shoulder, giving him the look. jermajesty smirked, sliding his cart out of his hoodie pocket like a secret agent.

he took a quick hit, blowing the smoke straight down his hoodie sleeve, looking way too proud of himself. “okay, my turn, gimme,” you whispered, reaching out under your desk.

but.

something stupid went off in jermajesty’s mind, prompting him to try and do some fancy hand off. and as expected, his fingers ended up slipping. time literally slowed down as the cart slipped from his grip, bounced off his knee, and hit the floor with a loud ‘clack.’

both of your souls instantly left your bodies. jermajesty dove out of his chair, scrambling on the floor to snatch it before anyone could notice.

he popped back up, shoved it in his pocket, and immediately turned on you, his eyes wide with panic. “why the fuck did you drop it?!” he hissed, his voice cracking slightly.

“me?!” you gasped, pointing at yourself in betrayal. “nigga, you literally threw it at me! why the fuck would you do that?”

“i handed it perfectly, you have fucking butter fingers!” he whispered back hard, leaning in so close your foreheads almost touched. “if we get suspended, i'm telling them it was your fault.”

“i will literally fight you,” you shot back, trying so hard not to laugh because his face was turning red from the adrenaline. “deadass.”

at this point, you both erupted into laughter, the sound spilling through the back of the classroom no matter how hard you tried to muffle it.

“is there a problem back there?”

the teacher’s voice boomed, and both of you froze like deer in headlights. jermajesty instantly grabbed his pencil, staring down at his notebook like he was actively being productive, while you gave the teacher a completely innocent smile.

the entire class turned to look at the both of you. “no, ms. clark! jermajesty just dropped his...highlighter,” you lied through your teeth, a wheezy laugh escaping you after.

the teacher just stared for a second, “please keep it down, i don’t want to have to seperate the both of you.” she sighed at the chaos of you two, and turned back to the board.

the second the coast was clear, jermajesty let out a shaky breath, burying his face in his hands. you couldn't hold it in and snorted, kicking his shin under the desk.

he looked up, a beautiful smile breaking across his face as he shook his head at you. “we are never doing that again,” he muttered, though he reached under the desk and squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your knuckles.

“it’s literally your fault,” you giggled, squeezing his hand back. “next time, don’t be dumb.”