#Superman feels something different
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lass-us-slay · 7 months ago
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I’m in love with how far you guys took this. So here’s my dime in more contribution:
So it’s been a few weeks since this apparent ghost child was brought into the watchtower. And really everyone’s been chill with him, even going as far as to help clean and redecorate the trash can to make it just a little bit more cozy.
Heck some (if more most) of the younger hero’s have been bringing in trinkets and whatnot to give to the young ghost to decorate the inside of the trash can.
They have no idea how all those fit in the small trash can but their guessing, having a space be a haunt also comes with the perks of having a lot more space in it then it looks on the outside. (According to Constantine and Deadman anyway.)
Speaking of which, Danny has been having a great few weeks here! At first he wasn’t so sure on trusting them but seeing as they only helped he let it be. Plus the idea of being able to move his haunt is kinda weird concept to him, since Amity Park was unmovable.
So when he just randomly threw out a comment like that while talking with… Flush? Flash Kid? He isn’t really good at picking up their names, they all look so alike but different he gets confused. So he calls them whatever, but it’s sorta hard to point them out when they’re all in the same room.
But he’s getting off track. One of the excitable and energetic hero’s in red and yellow/orange took that comment literally.
So now here he is. Having his trash can lifted onto a RV/Rumba hybrid that one of the bird themed hero’s built just cause “they (he?) was bored” and this was something fun to do.
It did take a little convincing on their end since Danny didn’t trust them all that much. Not after what happened to Amity Park, not after what happened to his last haunt, his last fraid.
In the end after having his haunt on top of the RV/Rumba thingy wasn’t that bad. But when it was moving?
Yea that freaked him out, and if anyone said he shrieked, no he didn’t. It was Sam and Tuck. Speaking of which- they were freaked out and scared more then he was.
(And if they all the hero’s simultaneously agreed to let Danny go at his own pace to get used to having his trash can move, then no one commented on it.)
———
Diana has been the one person to stay almost constantly by Danny’s side. She listened to him rant about space, asking questions, and if he didn’t feel like talking?
She would sit there in silence as they both watched the stars in each others company. Sometimes being joined by the other league members. Mostly being Batman.
Diana knows Batman is as invested into the kid as she is. She sees it in the way he talks and listens to the kid, in the way he looks at the ghost as if he’s one of his robins. In the way he’s eyes sometimes darkens whenever the kid throws out concerning comments about when he was still alive.
In the way Batman- Bruce, had that subtle look of realization and anger alike when they found out Danny was already dead.
She saw it in how much Bruce spent on the computer gathering evidence on one of the watchtowers computers when he had to spend time here.
Diana knew most of the other hero’s were working on it too, because they’d all come to care for Danny. And to know how that he’d been killed in some alley and dumped in a trash can? Left there with no justice done to his assaulter.
It left a bad taste in everyone’s mouths.
Diana would love to help them, but she also respects Danny’s wishes to not wanna talk about it. To want to forget it.
But she wouldn’t leave him alone. She has a feeling he’d been left alone (or behind) for too long much.
It speaks for itself whenever he talks to his ghost blob friends. (Which he does far too often) even if Diana is next to him, Danny will turn to his blob friends (who can’t respond back), and ask them questions. Only to answer it himself, or just pretend they didn’t know the answer either to answer.
And it breaks her heart. She hoped her presence next to him would have helped him.
And she was right.
Though not as often, Danny chooses to talk to her whenever his ghost blob friends don’t answer. And she’s happy.
Because it means progress.
And she’ll take what little it is, and run with it.
———
Clark likes the kid.
He does. But he can’t help but feel off putting whenever he’s near the kid.
Hey- he can’t help it!
For how much he likes being around, and bonding with the kid. No matter how sweet and precious the kid is.
He’s so used to hearing a heartbeat, of any kind really. And not hearing it just makes Clark sad. And to some degree, angry. At himself. And the heartless people who would stoop as low to kill a child.
And the things the kid says off handedly, like it’s no big deal. Just makes him wanna hit his head on a wall and gently explain that no. It’s not okay that you’re used to being shot at. That it’s not okay to be used to have food (???) attack you!
(Not to mention that apparently that’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to him)
He wonders how Diana can sit there next to him, and wanna move to at least bring the people who hurt him to justice.
Although he doesn’t know what he finds more disturbing. That Diana probably has heard worse then him, or that Danny most likely has even more concerning things he hasn’t said.
The kid sure is the type to just forget about these concerning things until he gets reminded of them by a stray word comment.
And that’s not all.
Sometime after Danny got acquainted with most (if not all) of the justice league members. The watchtowers started to feel… different?
Not in the bad way, as in something is wrong. But in that strange way where you feel protected. Like this trielt is a safe haven, more so then it felt like in the past.
Clark’s not gonna lie, he likes how this feeling washes over him whenever he gets here. Loves the feeling of protectiveness that feel so much like when he was younger. When Ma and Pa would make him feel protected and right at home. Even if he truly wasn’t one of them.
And by the heartbeats of the other leaguers, he’s not the only one to feel like this. Everyone- yes even Batman- seems to relax and be at peace in the watchtower.
Now why might this be a bad thing you ask?
Well it’s not. But the strangeness that accompanies the feeling of safety isn’t.
So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.
So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.
So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.
So what does he do?
Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.
Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.
Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️
AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!
And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes
Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!
And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:
Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.
.
.
.
Good. I’m tired af
And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.
It’s going great.
But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.
And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.
Yk because of the ectoplasm.
So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!
In the form of blob ghosts.
Two actually.
They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.
Everything was great.
Danny was loving the trash can life style.
He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.
He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.
However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.
Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.
But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.
He stared, they stared back.
Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:
“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”
But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.
Which- rude.
Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.
Plus.
It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!
They should mind their own business!
———
Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.
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hyperfixatinator · 5 months ago
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Well this is a heartbreaking realization to be had.
So Jon Kent was trapped in that alternate universe volcano for several of his childhood years. Then when he returned to his home universe, he was significantly older than when he'd left, and basically had to start acting his own age in order to prepare for his impending adulthood.
Now, who else had been cheated out of many of his childhood years by being forcibly separated from his own reality, and then was expected to mature quickly after he escaped so he could adjust to all these sudden changes in his life?
Bart Allen.
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futuretrain · 11 months ago
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having kara zor-el thoughts today about her getting out of her ship, and she does not yet know what she is doing so years after she was supposed to. she is trying to focus not on what she's lost, but what she still has, and her first thought is "kal can't sleep without a lullaby, i need to find him and sing him to sleep, he must be so scared and alone" because she is scared, she is alone, she wants nothing more than for someone to sing her to sleep, but it will never happen again, and if she amounts to anything now that the future she was supposed to have is gone, she will do it for her little cousin, who will never even know krypton if not for her
but her cousin is not the little baby she used to babysit, he is a grown adult, older than kara is, and she wonders how the people who took care of him got him to sleep without knowing the kryptonian lullabies he was used to (how will she sleep now?), how quickly kal adapted to the lullabies of earth instead (did he forget the sound of his home entirely?), or who she would have to sing to sleep now that kal-el doesn't need her (who can she ever share with? will she forget, too?)
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tonycries · 2 months ago
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Your (Super)Man - N.K.
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Synopsis. He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, Clark Kent! Nanami, SUPERMAN AU, aphrodísiacs, coworkers-to-Iovers, he is a GENTLEMAN, slight víoIence, Itadori cameo, saving people, píning, manhandIing, he is BIG, cervíx kíssing, making it fit, pússydrúnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), BRÉEDING, creampíes, cúmplay, spítting, Nanami’s POWERS, matíng presses, face-sítting, buIges, BREAKING THE BED, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.7k
A/N. CLARK KENT(O) NANAMI SAVE MEEEE
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“There’s just something about him, Shoko.”
“Right…”
You’re flicking a quick roll of your eyes as your coworker continues stealing drowsy sips of her early morning coffee. Well, her fifth of the morning. Grumbling out, “I swear- There’s just something about him that feels so…” Eyes drifting - as they much seemed to do these days - to the man in question. “-different.”
And, listen, Shoko would whole-heartedly prefer the tittering office gossip with you over working on her weeks-late article any day of the week. 
But times like this, she really had no idea whether the two of you were staring - undoubtedly creepily - at the same Nanami Kento. 
That stoic, mild-mannered hire who’d just been freshly accepted into your journalism sector. Tall, seemingly powerful - yet, he acted anything but. A gentle giant with the suspicious patience of a saint even against the worst of editors - honestly, she’s musing, just who was this guy?
“Hm…” Fingers digging into her achy temples as if trying to will away the memory of her upcoming deadlines. And this. “Maybe you just need to get laid. A proper, genuine good f-”
“Shoko.”
And she’s cracking her first laugh of the day, ducking underneath her computer screen with a sigh as Yaga passes by dangerously close. “Well, you were thinking about it. Harlot.”
You’re sighing, too - though for a much different reason, she imagines. 
Gaze narrowing as you finally rip them away from the blond-haired man dwarfing the corporate cubicle opposite the two of you. Bumbling and fixing the glasses on his face for the nth time this hour. “W-well it doesn’t help that he’s hot.”
Shoko’s mere milliseconds away from opening her sharp mouth once more - and you’re mere milliseconds away from wincing at what was surely to fall from them. Before- 
A call of your name.
Ah, saved by the bell - or, your managing editor, more like. Though, you weren’t sure if you’d consider it “saving” when Yaga’s holding out a crisp stack of documents your way. Brows furrowed underneath his sunglasses, he gruffs out, “They finally cleared the pitch for your article on that flower. You’re good to go.”
“O-oh, that’s great. Thank you.” Plastering on a simpering smile on your face, you’re hastily clasping those papers. “I’ll get started on the interviews right away.”
Articles on flower shops weren’t quite the adrenaline-thumping journalism you’d expected to work on when you first joined this company. Initially concocting fantasies about interviewing your city’s nefarious villains or perhaps even…Superman .
But ah, those were just dreams. And it seems that someone here had to report on things like mysterious flower shipments to local florists - which just-so-happened to be you.
You’re pulled out of your pitiful little reverie by another echo of your name. Turning back to Yaga, brows raised. “Yes?”
“And take Nanami with you.”
Oh.
Oh. 
“Ah, sorry you’re paired up with me, Nanami.” You’d be chuckling much, much later when you’d gathered your files and your wits to be stuffed inside an elevator with your coworker. “I’d imagine something like this probably wouldn’t have been your ideal first taste of real journalism.”
Eyes straying anywhere but where you could spy the way the suit buttons over his chest looked like they were about to pop! Nanami was unfairly attractive, even when he was slouched and nervously struggling to meet your eyes with his honeypool ones.
Always known around the rest of the company to be so timid - but you get the feeling that he was being extra jumpy around you.
He’s shaking his head - golden strands of hair curtaining his handsome face. “Please don’t worry. I’m only grateful that you’re taking me with you, I-I promise to try my best not to be a burden, ma’am.”
“Aw, no need to call me that. We’re the same age, after all.” Subtly, you’re mashing the button for the ground floor a few more times. Suddenly reminded of how dizzyingly tiny this space was. How much of it he was occupying. “And I can’t promise that I won’t be a burden, either.”
You’d meant it as a joke - you really did. But after seeing the way that Nanami’s forehead crinkles with a furrow, you almost wish you could take back those words. 
“Anyone would be lucky to have you as a partner.” He’s mumbling - such earnestness dripping from his rich baritone that you can feel your eyes widening a fraction. And Nanami sees it, too. 
“Oh?”
“I mean-” Fingers fumbling to push up his thick-rimmed glasses, he’s tightening his yellow speckled tie almost as if he wished to choke away that burning flush creeping up from the back of his drooped neck and blossoming at the tips of his ears. “Just- just that you’re one of the most c-competent journalists in our company and I’m only honored to be learning from the best and- o-oh, it seems we’re here.” 
It’s a wonder that Nanami noticed - it’s a wonder that you noticed once those metallic doors parted like a curtain to reveal the bustling lobby. Finally here.
He’s holding out the curved end of one big, strong arm, bent at the elbow to show off the straining stretch of his flexing biceps. And you can’t help but ogle. “M-may I?”
It takes you copious seconds of staring at the thoroughly outlined bulge of his sculpted arm for you to finally snap to your senses. And a few more to finally realize what he was asking. 
Something warm and mushy pools in your stomach. Fuck.
Tentatively wrapping your hands around the rock-hard mounds of flesh so that Nanami - ever-the-gentleman - could tenderly escort you out, as if this was a ballroom and not your workplace. 
And you can’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t mind tedious interviews if it went anything like this. 
.
.
.
“So, there’s no sender address?”
“Nope.”
“No date?” 
“Nada.”
“And no postage?” 
“Tch, I wish!”
You’re tapping your trusty pen against the parchment of the notepad, gears wracking in your thoroughly overworked brain. “Mr. Itadori, is there a possibility that this might be a prank?”
Wasuke Itadori shakes his head with a grunt, weathered fingers brushing over the aggressively violet petals of a flower you think looked too bizarre to even be pulled out of your very dreams. He’s tapping the stiff flower once. Twice. 
And you’re gasping when a tiny puff of shimmering pink billows out like a heady cloud. Perfumed. Hypnotizing. A musky vanilla that makes you draw in further, and reminds you of- Eyes peeking over at an aloof Nanami…him. 
“See? Smells jus’ like my wife’s cheap citrus perfume. N’ unless she’s haunting me from beyond the grave as she said she would, it seems too elaborate of a prank ta me. It’s obviously livin’, but I can’t find any information on this flower for the life of me.” The older man crosses his arms, scowling, “Ya have no idea how many times I’ve had ta stop my stupid grandson from trying to eat this thing.”
Humming, you’re jotting down a few notes - fingers tremoring ever-so-slightly at Nanami’s burning gaze right beside you. “Have there been any strange effects on the other flora since you’ve acquired this special flower?”
“Nah, nothing at all- that’s the thing, s’like it’s alien or something. Just showed up at my door one day n’ I dunno what it is.” He’s grouching - and you have to agree. That is strange. 
You’d never heard of any other florist’s receiving this type of strange…gift? 
But you can’t voice anything more before a voice sounds from outside the see-through door, and the man before you clicks his tongue. “Ah! Dammit, that reminds me- my flower vendor’s here already. Excuse me while I step outside, you can throw the lil’ gremlin in with the marigolds if he bothers ya too much.”
You’re holding back a chuckle - honestly, this was nothing like you expected, you think you would have enjoyed this interview regardless. 
Wasuke was a doting grandpa - as much as he may deny it. And his tiny, pink-haired menace of a grandson was positively bouncing off the walls at having official journalists enter the cozy flower shop. Dangling midair off of a closely-observing Nanami’s shoulders with two chubby arms wrapped around the other’s neck.
Though, you certainly weren’t complaining at the sight.
“Hey- pretty lady- mister Nananamin-” Yuji’s squeaking into his ear. “Are you two married?” 
You’re sure that if Wasuke was within earshot he’d have grabbed the child by the scruff of his neck. But, alas, Nanami was beared with none of that mercy. 
Teasing, “Hmm, would you like to answer this, Nanami?”
“No- I mean yes! N-no, this lovely lady and I are not married.” He’s huffing out a low bout of laughter, massive palms barely even having to try to pick up Yuji’s wiggling body. And you can’t stop the way your heart lurches when he’s softly cradling the younger boy in one arm - fuck, you really need to get yourself together.
“Why not?”
And perhaps for the first time since you’ve known him, Nanami Kento looked truly and utterly stunned. Hazel eyes pleading your way, mouth opening and closing a few desperate times. “Well…”
But Yuji only plows on with the oblivious confidence that only comes with being freshly five. “Then, since you’re erm- what was that word Megumi said? Uh- d-divowced, can I marry her?”
Ah.
Giggling behind your palm, you’re almost on the verge of saving your poor coworker. Almost. 
That is, before it happens. 
CRASH!
You can’t hear anything, you can’t feel anything, you can’t see anything - other than a bright, blood red. Fuck- 
“N-Nanami? Yuji?” Your voice is shrill - cracking, and you’re unsure if the way you grimace is because of how utterly pathetic you sound or because of the complete devastation in front of you. “Wh-what…”
Shit. 
Heaps upon heaps of concrete and wrecked pieces of building pile upon what was once the Itadori family flower shop. Flowerpots knocked over, the ceiling crumbling, bright morning sunlight filtering from above to illuminate a thick blanket of swirling dust. 
As if a whirlwind had wrecked it through and caught up you right in the middle of it - purposefully. 
Shit shit shit-
Gasping, heaving to try and scramble your thoughts into one big coherent one - but then instantly regretting it when your entire body wracks with painful coughs. You’re so confused - head churning with exactly what’s happening right now - that you barely even register the large hand soothing over your back.
Your ears ring with a sharp keen, eyes bleary and tinging with black - it hurts. And you’re pressing a hand to your forehead with a hiss. Unbalanced voice on the edges of shattering into a zillion pieces, “What happened- wh-where-”
“Shhh shh shh, you’re going to be alright, darling.”
What? 
Your head snaps up - it’s then that you notice it.
Finally. 
Body tucked safely behind the overarching counter of the flower shop, far from where the sudden impact of something would have hit you. You’re crouched against all the wood and debris that dug uncomfortably into your legs. Your hands tremble - but not just with fear, no, with the tearful cries of a curled-up Yuji snuggling thankfully safely into your body.
All in the arms of…Nanami?
But, wait, no- it was as if it wasn’t him at all. 
Because gone were those heavy glasses framing his pretty face, and you’re blinking your lethargic lids urgently to drink in the stern, serious features they’d left behind. Brows furrowed, plump lips pulled tightly when he’s clenching his jaw, muscles flexing as he’s holding you two tighter - as if subconsciously. 
There was something different about him, something…magnetic, like a flip had just switched on. And you’re definitely blaming the way your head was swimming - but you can’t help but think he looked so hot.
Fuck - now’s not the time.
Soft locks of blond were windswept to slick back, that snug coat of his tattered onto the floor to display an emblazoned logo that you wouldn’t be able to mistake even if you tried. 
“You’re…” you breathe, and it’s a wonder that the syllables come out coherent at all. Jaw falling slack at the glimpses of that familiar skin-tight red and blue suit you’ve seen smeared across every magazine, every news column, and every show these days. “...Superman.”
And it takes a second. Two. 
Until Nanami’s long lashes flutter with a little pant of laughter, a singular thick finger straightening into a shush-ing gesture when he’s smiling down warmly at a sniffling Yuji, “This’ll be our little secret, right?”
“Y-yes!” The little boy hiccups, plump palms scrambling to cover his mouth. And you think you could spy a tiny smile rising through his short fingers. Though it wavers, “Mister Nananamin- I mean- Mister Superman, my grandpa is still outside…”
He’s nodding, “I’ll keep you all safe-” Before turning to you with eyes so scorching that you can feel yourself inch in closer against the stiff fabric of his supersuit. “-all of you.” 
“Ahhh~ touching touching. Didn’t think I’d run into dear ol’ Superman here.” A high, eerie voice rings over the thundering blood pumping to your head, and you’re burying even deeper into Nanami’s sculpted side. “But ah, not to worry, Man of Steel, m���jus’ here to pick up a little lost package of my friend’s so…”
Nanami’s stiffening underneath your touch, and with a slow nod he’s getting up from your little hiding place. 
And if looks could kill - which you knew Superman could do - then the greyish, patched man in front of you wouldn’t have been waltzing in through the utterly destroyed door already. As if he owned the place. Owned all of you. 
“Mahito, we’ve spoken before.” Nanami’s voice was hardened with a growl in a way you’ve never heard. Fuming. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”
There’s a metallic click! resonating across what was left of the four walls of this shop, as if he was loading some type of gun. But not as you’ve ever known one. 
And Nanami’s eyes narrow with a thick coating of tension when Mahito’s fingers curl around that flower - the exact one you’d come here to interview about in the first place. Plucking it neatly from the vase before crushing the waxy petals between his fingers. 
“You sure ya wanna talk to me like that when you’ve got civilians here, Superman?” Voice airy, delighted. As if he wasn’t currently loading an opening in that specialized gun with the gooey insides of that flower. Before pointing it - right at the bullseye where you were scoured away. “Especially with sweetcheeks here? Don’t think I don’t know how soft ya are for-”
Nanami stretches into an attack-ready position. “So you’re after the innocents again.”
“Ah- no, actually.” Mahito snickers. Snickers. “I’m after you.”
BANG!
It all happens so fast that you’re not even sure if everything’s part of your imagination - whether this is all still a dream. 
Because in the bat of an eye, Mahito has the slightly-glowing barrel of the gun pointed your way. Bursting the counter into nothing but a few shockwaves and shards of plastic. 
And in the bat of much less, Nanami’s shielding you with his entire body, sculptured front glissading against your back, beefy arms curled snugly around your waist. Head tucked over yours to make sure every inch of you is protected, Yuji placed gently at his side. 
Your bleary vision clouds with a familiar fog of pink - dazzling and addictive with that same musky perfume. Was- wasn’t this what Wasuke had shown you earlier?
“Shit! Wh-what the fuck is this?!” You’re hearing off in the distance - or perhaps it was right beside you, you didn’t even know at this point. “That damn Hanami- this isn’t the poison-”
He’s letting off a shiver, before gritting out. One arm holding out to you just as it had in the elevator, the memory hits you with pang. “Y-you two need to get to safety. Now. May I?”
If it weren’t for the hours of droning meetings faced with Nanami, the weeks of trying to get him to speak with you - months of memorizing every syllable that dripped from his pretty lips, then you wouldn’t even have noticed. But you did. 
“W-wait-.” Your throat scratches and struggles to get the words out, matching the shakes in his own tone. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
But the only answer you get is a soft, mysterious smile. And the repeated hum - as if you weren’t wrangling yourself around to peek at where he was undoubtedly hit. “No need to worry about me, my love- ah. My first and foremost priority is you two-”
“But you’re hurt.” you’re crying out, gasping when Mahito’s eyes lock with yours. And he leers, knobbly fingers fussing to reset that weapon once more. 
“I know.” Stray tresses of golden flaxen stick to Nanami’s sweat-glimmered forehead like an impromptu crown, and you don’t know how he has it in himself to smile down at you. Cradling Yuji in one arm, and you in the other as if the two of you were easily weightless - you can only gape at the adorable dimple digging into the left corner of his mouth. “Now, hold on tight.”
You do - and you can only blink before your savior is flying. 
Now, you’d always marvelled at the sheer heights that Superman reached on those live newscasts. Wondering just how euphoric it must be to soar through the air, free from every care in the world - well, as much as you could be when the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, at least.
But this? This was heaven.
Wind whipping your face like an icy mask, Yuji’s high peels of laughter tinkling in your ears. You can’t do anything but watch and watch as the demolished flower shop grows smaller. A speck. 
“Oh- oh my god.” You’re whispering thorough scrunched eyes, nails clawing deeply into the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoid.
And if it hurt, then Nanami didn’t give a single sign. Instead, he’s laughing - quiet, and as delicate at the cottony clouds passing you by. “S’alright, s’alright. Super- Ken’s here. N’ m’not gonna drop you.” You’re cutting through the air so fast - staggeringly - but right now, when Nanami’s boring his eyes into yours, it felt like time itself had stumbled to a stop. He’s pulling you even closer to his powerful body, “I’d never let ya go, darling.”
Yet, when the view of your cozy Metropolis apartment comes into view - you almost whine at the fact that he has to. 
“Don’t you worry about a thing now.” Nanami’s ruffling Yuji’s windblown mop of pink hair - even more tousled with the wind. “I’ll be going, and I’ll keep both you and your grandpa safe.”
And looking at him right now - velvety crimson cape flowing at the wind seeping in through your open window, one arm bulging with muscles as he leans readily against the frame - you wonder how you could’ve ever thought that anyone other than him could be Superman.
“Come back safe.” You’re choking out, hands clasped. “W-we’re still not done with our article…”
“Mhm, you better hold me to that, ma’am.” 
And with that, Superman - Nanami - was zipping through the air at a mach speed that made you realize he was intentionally slowing it down for both you and Yuji on your way here. 
Fingers quivering, it takes you what feels like practically forever to turn your television on - precisely onto a live newstream of how Superman had entered the site of a villain attack. Ready to save. To be a hero. 
Eyes locked mindlessly on the tiny blimp of red and blue onscreen, you cuddle a fidgety Yuji on the bouncy cushions of your sofa. For your jittery nerves just as much as his. “Your husband is so cool, lady- he’s Superman! Oh- whoops, shhhh! Tha’s a secret though…”
“Yeah…” you’re breathing out. “Yeah, he is cool, isn’t he?”
.
.
.
Forty-five saved, three buildings wrecked, and one injured. 
One injured - him.
Though, Nanami wouldn’t quite count himself with any civilians injured or…worse. He never quite does. 
But, oh, it was so hard not to when the first thing he’s peeling back that hazy layer of fatigue in his eyes is you - you, you, you. In all your glorious self, big, pearlescent tears spilling down your pretty cheeks and splattering in tiny puddles onto his bare chest. 
His bare, bandaged chest. 
And for a second, powers set aside, Nanami thinks he might just have died and reached heaven. How fitting that the angels looked like you. 
Voice hoarse as he’s muttering his first few words, “Are- are you alright?”
“-stupid. Asking about m-me when you’re the one hurt. Didn’t even-” Your sobs garble out into words, and you’re half-heartedly hitting your fist against the unbandaged part of Nanami’s skin. “Don’t you ever do that again- you had me- so worried.”
Ah, he’d won the fight - and he finally felt like it.
Silently, he makes quick work abandoning those delicate bandages of yours - a strange part of him almost hurt to unravel your work like this. To unravel nothing but silken, unblemished skin after hours of healing abilities.
Though, Nanami gives all the credit to your care, anyway.
Warm fingers cup your head to nuzzle your clammy face against the crook of his neck. Practically draped over your bed and onto his body now, and you could feel his burning skin, smell those musky pheromones of his. “Got it got it, I won’t be scaring you like that again.”
“Th-the neighbors were so worried when you just showed up all injured n’ half-fainting at my window, y’know? I had to bribe them to be quiet with a few of the flowers that Yuji’s grandpa left.” You’re muttering, more to fill the strangely thickening silence than anything. 
“Ah, tell- tell Mr. Itadori that I will have his shop reconstructed by the end of this week.” He’s whispering, voice so strained that you had to crane your head to hear him - close. “Was Yuji doing alright?”
“Mhm, never been better, apparently. He just left with his grandpa, and they invited us over for dinner before…” Brows furrowing, words withering away on your tongue at the agonized knit in his brow. There was something…different. “Are- are you really okay, Kento?”
Nanami doesn’t comment about that use of his first name - nor does he embarrassingly babble out how it might just be his new favorite song now. 
He can’t.
Because Nanami was panting - groaning. Pearly whites clenched so hard that you think you could hear them creak. 
There was a strange simmering flush creeping up his body, staining it such a delicious strawberry pink that made your mouth water- or maybe that was just the emanating clouds of vanilla musk saturating your lungs. Clinging onto Nanami’s body like a dripping second skin-
“I…” he’s gulping, half-lidded eyes shifting away from yours like he couldn’t even bear to look at you right now. Didn’t know what he would do. “-my apologies. But what that fucker- ah- excuse my language. What Mahito hit me with seems to not have been a poison, as I had thought. Rather, now that it’s finally spread through my body, I feel it’s something else entirely… ” 
“What is it- does it hurt?”
“It seems to be…” Gesturing wildly with his hands, careful not to jostle you. “-an aphrodisiac…of sorts.”
You’re letting your lips part, “Oh. Wait- ‘of sorts?’”
And ah, there was the timid Kento you knew. He could never lie to you. “It- itseemstoonlyaffectthoseinlove- B-but my healing abilities are working and-” Nanami’s sitting up faster than you could blink. Words running a mile-a-minute, “-and I shall leave in case you feel uncomfortable with me here-”
“Why would you leave?” It’s slipping between your lips before you can register. Still mulling over those previous words - they explained. A lot. 
Nanami stills, hands clasped around those creamy blankets he was flinging off, sure to disappear into the starry night. “P-pardon?”
Well, fuck. 
You’re steeling your gaze - you’ve waited this long. And if there was anything about Nanami’s afflicted aphrodisiac, it was that it was contagious.
Making you breathe in a heavy gulp of candied air, “Aphrodisiac, huh? I’ve read about those, and don’t you think that since you saved me-” Slowly - ever-so-slowly dragging your hands to rest on his smooth shoulders, faces inches away. “-it’s only fair that I help? Besides…I can smell it too.”
Oh, he gasps. A confession if any.
Fingers tangling through those damp locks. “But if- if you get tangled up with me- who knows what other villains will come after you. I might’ve taken down Mahito today, but Kenjaku is still out there. And I have to keep ya safe.”
“Well who’s going to keep you safe?” You scoff, refusing - rejecting - to relent.
“I don’t need to be safe if it means that I can keep that beautiful smile on your face everyday.” And maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was how close you were to him in this dimly heady lightning, but Nanami didn’t seem like he meant to say that out loud. Not at all. 
Basking in your spellbound silence. “My love…feel this?” He’s clasping one hand around your own, letting you rover a greedy grope of his plush pecs - his heartbeat. Thundering. Frighteningly so. “Th-this isn’t any old aphrodisiac, especially considering me.”
“And?”
“And that means, darling-” But he was, too, just as much. “That m’gonna want ya…need ya. So badly and fuck! M’gonna make ya forget what it feels like without me…” One rounded index trailing up, up, up to about halfway up your tummy. “-here.”
You’re shuddering, taking in deep gulps of that electric air. “...A-and?”
He’s jerking you forwards with a mere fraction of that superhuman strength to splay your body over his towering one. Face lolling into the cushiony valley of his pecs, legs straddling that slutty waist of his in a way that made you shy. Right on top of his drenched boxers. That needy spot between your legs heating up just as much as his condensing breath did on your skin. “I can’t promise that when I fuck you, I won’t break you.”
Fuck. Was this really the same, adorably feeble Nanami Kento from work? You weren’t sure, but you knew one way to find out…
“I’ll…hold you to that.”
But before he was Superman, he was Nanami Kento from the journalism department. And who was Nanami Kento against you?
“Such a stubborn girl.” You’re being surprised with a sudden implanting of his thick set of fingers leaving a sudden swat on your ass, voice teetering on what almost sounded like a growl. “But you’re mine, aren’tcha?”
Your fingers dapple along the sweat-dampened little curls of blond at the sexy edge of his undercut. And it seemed like the more the aphrodisiac boiled into his veins, the more and more he burned feverishly. 
Senses superhuman but already heightening with the coarse need glossing his brain - he could practically taste your arousal. 
Panting. Charming maw falling parted to mist you own with such rousing puffs of his scent, “Kiss me. Please- kiss me.”
And- fuck, Nanami kisses like he couldn’t get enough of you.
Was absolutely drunk with just a simple slide of his pursed mouth against your own, from a tender little peck until he only got greedier and greedier-
“Mmmm-” Rasping grunts curdle at the back of his throat, slurring into a low whine when he’s wrenching a splayed-out hand onto your scalp and dragging you away. Manhandling. Sultry sucks being left on the tenderest spots of your throat, sure to make the office talk tomorrow. “Can feel how fuckin’ wet ya are f’me already, darlin’. S’this the aphrodisiac or you?”
God, it was so embarrassing. 
That silky little puddle of your reflective slick was flooding from between your flimsy panties to press gluey little smooches against his manspread front. 
You’re mumbling, words stumbling over one another when your hips peek in to seat just above that swollen crown of his cock. Already rock-hard. “Y-you don’t have to say it out loud.”
You barely even realize how you’re slipping and sliding in needy little gyrations of your hips before Nanami’s putting a shuddering halt to it. One rude hand curling around that perfect curvature of your waist, he’s snickering at how you’re letting off a thoroughly disappointed whine. “My apologies, but s’hard f’me to act like a hah- gentleman when ya have such gorgeous lips…” He’s chuckling out - humorless, parking one big thumb against the corner of your mouth. “These ones, too.” 
He couldn’t even finish his sentence - couldn’t even finish his thought.
Not before bruising your lips with some of the filthiest little sucks on your lower lip - like he’d simply gone way too long without kissing you. Once. Twice. Again and again and-
“O-oh!”  Your hands scramble to find purchase up on his broad shoulders when he’s darting down one fat thumb to paint with all your silvery pussy slick. Drawing slow meshes of circles on your soppy slit up and down up and down up and- “N-Nanami-”
“Kento.” He’s cutting you off with a fracturing furrow of his brows, “We’re way past last names, don’tcha think, my love?”
Oh, that sweetly rugged tone stirred up something inside you that made you want Nanami now now now.
“Oh? S’that so?” Ravenous edges of his fingers pulling aside your sticky panties to the side to sidle in with one thick drag of his digits, they’re being lacquered with such a heavy layer of your sweet, sweet juices that Nanami can’t help but drag his fingerpads upwards to sniff. To suck one by one. Sweet. “You’re heh- babblin’ cute nonsense, but fuuuuck this cute cunt is talkin’ ta me even filthier.”
In such sappy awe at the way your puffy pussy flaps were sugarcoating him all the way down till Nanami was dripping at the wrist. Metallic wristwatch from work all shiny and ruined-
“Need you t-to touch me inside, Ken–” you’re huffing, circling lazy grinds across his roughened hands. “Please?”
“Anythin’ for my girl.”
And Nanami’s giving your ass another good thwack! of his palm, feeling the vibrato of delicious jiggles before hauling your entire body higher and higher. Letting his back hit the silken sheets of your bed within a fluid motion, before you even know it you’re hovering your clothed cunt over his swelteringly fevered mouth. 
Just one sudden move and you’d be riding his face - exactly what Nanami wanted right now. Yearned. 
“Oh- wait-” You’re startling, fingers fumbling with that tight pencil skirt you’d worn to work specifically for him to see. “Didn’t take this-”
“Not a problem.” He’s grunting, only looking up with droopy eyes at where you’re straddling his handsome face, decorated with tawny strands of hair when he’s grinning. Thick fingers clasping onto the hem at your waist, “Hold on tight n’ show me that pretty pussy.”
RIIIIIP–!
Your skirt is on the floor, torn through like butter - your blouse and bra soon to follow. Impatient. And it’s only once Nanami’s done savoring that sweet embarrassment wafting off of you, the way your drenched pussymound smells so sugary sweet - does he even consider freeing you of them.
He’s scrunching up the sodden wet fabric into a little treasure hidden underneath your pillow - something for him later…
And you’re even wetter than usual, that contagious spell of aphrodisiac making your eyes glaze with sheer need. 
“Aw, look at thaaaat.” Nanami’s breathing - enchanting. The curves of his lips lifting into a smirk at the way your dripping slit treacles a fresh coating of slick all down his tongue, letting it sliiiide a lazy trailway to hit the back of his scratchy tastebuds. “Atta girl, b-better be taking all of me if yer that eager, hm?”
And Nanami is so needy - he’s so desperate to have your clingy pussy make a mess all over his face as soon as possible. 
Breathing in like some pervert to take in your perfumed scent. Reaching up to smear a wet glissade of his lips down your own, and you think that it might just be the filthiest French snog that anyone has ever placed on you. The buttoned edge of his nose mushes against your peeked clit so harshly. 
He’s blazing, cock thumping for more- With a low, heated whistle, he’s nuzzling his sweat-glossed forehead up against your moistened inner thigh. Layers upon layers of your slick coveting his features and stinging delicate little ropes that connect his maw to your cunt.
“Mmm- fuckin’ sweet- fuckin’ hot–” Nanami keens out, pillowy palms spreading your legs so comfortably apart until you felt like he was cracking you open. “C’mon now, sit your f-full weight on me, my love.”
You’re sputtering, thighs all achy with fatigue. “B-but-”
“Darling…” Nanami’s smiling, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. “Not to be conceited - forgive my tone - but I’m Superman. N’ if there was any way m’to die, then it would be right between these pretty legs of yours.”
And you didn’t know whether it was the fumes of vanilla aphrodisiac taking over his melty brain completely because Nanami was ruthless. 
Your dear, sweet coworker was kissing the very edges of your bloated cunt with one of his oversized fingers. Sifting through to draw numerous innocent hearts on your sensitive clit, before plunging down,down, down-
“Ah!” You’re yelping at the stinging stretch of his souring fingerpads, swirling in mushy little gyrations around and around your elastic entrance. Extra sensitive right now- damn that flower. “H-how is your finger already feeling so…”
“Good? Does my heh- good girl like this?” He’s cooing up at you, feeling your gloopy cunt with such copious inches of his long hands. 
And with such staggering fingers you could only imagine how big he’d be down there…
SWAT!
“Aww, don’t space out already. Wanna hear those p-pretty moans even longer-” The jutting pout of Nanami’s oh-so-cute lower lip smudges against your saturated clit. Tingling and hot when he tilts his head to bite. “‘Sides, how are ya gonna f-fit my cock if this is too big, hm?”
You’re holding back a wrecked whimper when he’s chancing another rummaging finger to part your pursed pussy lips. Ramming up and down to drag a sultry stripe across every nook and gummy ridge, to feel for- 
“F-fuck-” Head throwing back, your spine arches into a tight little bow that slops the entirety of your cunt down onto Nanami’s eagerly awaiting mouth. “There- there there there- don’ stop, Kentooo.”
He’s been waiting for this forever. And he was going to get his fill. 
And you could feel the way his mouth curled into a flirty smile, the back of his sharp chin slathered against the very back of where you needed him the most. 
“Mhm– Not gonna let ya go-” As if to prove his point, one free hand is all it takes for him to latch onto your waist and pin you to ride his face with reckless abandon. Exactly how he wanted it. “Wanna marry ya- be mine- please-” Because Nanami Kento didn’t want to move an inch - couldn’t bear parting with the exact sweet treat that’s haunted his most lecherous dreams since the day he fucking met you. “-never- ah- never after th-this.”
Such pretty, pretty melodies resonate out every time Nanami’s slobbering honeyed flurries of sucks and kisses onto your cunt - and not just from between your lips.
No, your teary pussymound was so loud with wiry sploshes of sap. And he simply can’t help himself from nodding his head with every waterlogged swash - as if he was having a full fucking conversation.
“S’right- m’wife’s always so right aren’tcha-” Nanami’s rawly drenched fingers pump outside - just for a split-second - to pap! pap! pap! his calloused pads on that syrupy little stud of your clit before curling his fingers into his mouth and sucking. Cleaning himself off. “Sh-should hear what yer gorgeous pussy’s been hah- sayin’- such a talkative girl, isn’t she?”
And those drunken chestnut eyes of his were just pleading - begging - for you to babble out, “Wh-what is she saying, Ken?”
“She’s sayin’- boasting, actually…” he’s drawling off, and with just how utterly fucked that Nanami looked right now, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost his train of thought. Giggling - giggling out, “-that she can take three.”
He was determined to prove it to you.
To swell your adhesive walls open with three of his pulpy fingers until you felt like you were going to burst. Those thickset globular ends of his digits reaching for that precious little bullseye of your cunt - he’s caressing you lovingly from the inside.
Over and over back and forth in maddening crawls until you were halfway through sobbing. And a primal itch inside him purrs at the sight of those prettily glistening tears in your eyes.
Ah, you looked so gorgeous riding his face like this - and, really, it wasn’t Nanami’s fault that his mouth felt a little left out…was it?
“B-both?” You’re dawdling your limp arms precariously onto the mahogany headboard - something that lasts for a generous two seconds before he’s unlatching your hands to dig harshly into his prespired tug. Firm arm around your first nudging you to pull- “You’re seriously gonna t-try n’ fit both?”
Both being the way that Nanami’s overfilling your snug channel with the dual penetration of his long, extra-sensitive tongue. 
Hissing with a slightly feral snarl marring those features when your tight hole won’t give way, Nanami’s bumping his nose against your sensitive nub with shy pecks once. Twice. Thrice to bully his feverish muscle inside.
“H-hngh—” he’s groaning at the tugging squeeze of your rubbery cunt. Stray fingers scissoring open your gluey walls, “Need ya to m-milk my tongue- know you can- ah! Gonna take it like my good girl, aren’tcha?” 
And it happens all at once.
You don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the way that he’s somehow managing to wedge in that sugarcoated drive of his tongue, or the way that you’re cumming.
Your own high taking you by surprise - taking all but Nanami by surprise. 
And you’ve never felt anything like this before, eyes flashing with white-hot stars. 
They’re burning into your brain and rendering you absolutely stupid with every bludgeon of his fingers into your gooey depths. So fast and hard that you can feel the recoil from your bulging g-spot sprinting in cratering vibrations down your spine.
“Nana- Ken-ohhh fuck!” Your mouth drivels away mindlessly, the euphoria so good that you can feel pools of dribble spilling from the corners of your lips with every grind. Thighs quaking, somehow wanting more- shit, seems the aphrodisiac won’t be done after just one…“M’cumming- ngh- m’cumming m’c-cumming.”
“Mhmmm- already know.” Words sinking down into what almost sounds like whines, and Nanami almost feels like he could cum in his pants. “Come now- pull on m’hair n’ r-ride me through that pretty high.” Filthy. Depraved. He’s curling the deliciously gravely tastebuds on his tongue to lap up every one of your knotted waves of slick, letting viscous wad after wad hit the back of his throat with a lewd splat!. “H-hehhh. Chatty pussy- y’know what else she’s sayin’?”
Shit- the idea makes your fingers nimbly pull at Nanami’s soft strands until he’s wafting out a low atta giiirl. Mumbling through croaking moans that just won’t stop dropping from your lips, “Wh-ngh! what?”
“She’s hngh- saying…” Yeah, it wasn’t the aphrodisiac - it definitely wasn’t the aphrodisiac that had him losing his fucking mind like this. It was you. “-that yer gonna g-give me another biiiig one very soon.”
Oh.
That wasn’t a promise - Nanami didn’t have to promise that. 
Because he was so intoxicated by that caramel scent sticking to you. Increasing twofold when with a sodden swat! down your bawling slit, you’re being stretched out with three of his digits until you were wide agape. Embarrassingly, so.
But not for Nanami - with a tantalized loll of his head into the silk-covered pillows, he’s gifting your sloppy entrance with a thick wad of saliva. 
As if the need was infectious - that orbed mass of spit flooding the inside of your cozy pussy just before his tongue is. 
“Ngh- s-so hot- ya like that new lipstain, my love?” He’s gulping down the excess slushes of your slick with every thrust past your glutinous walls, hard. Sloppy. Making such a mess on purpose, because for all how straightlaced Nanami was - all that shattered when it came to you. “-s-so sweet. Ah- h-hold my hand if s’too much, darling.”
“Feels so s-sensitive but…” Your jaw drops into a soft oh! when his rugged tongue drags over the globed bruises of his fingertips inside. Fingers scrambling for his free ones in midair, “-but I want more, Kentooo-”
With the leverage on your hand, he’s helping your burning thighs manage out a few more soppy strokes up and down. 
Your head is so dizzy by now, and you can barely see straight. Barely stumble to match every sopping smooch being punished upon your overwhelmed pussy. “Look so pretty like this- So tight- so cute. Probably c-couldn’t even ngh- fit my tip this way.”
“S-so mean.”
“I’d be nice if ya- hngh- spit in my mouth.”
Gasping, “Like this?”  But you didn’t even have to ask - you knew the answer in Nanami’s eyes, in the way he was smearing your pussy lips thoroughly ajar. In the way his dilated pupils run all the way to the back of his lips when you do. 
Your greedy gaze dazes back down to take in that heavenly sight of him - and you almost wish that you still had your camera for the article today with you. Because this was a sight you wanted to remember forever and ever. 
He’s so pretty with his golden locks splayed out like an angelic halo on the pillowcase below, clammy skin flushed rose red, swollen lips coral pink and gumming over your gluey ones like it was his favorite candy. Sucking. Even harder at the sloshes of translucent sap that laminated his face down to his chin, his neck, and all the way up to his cheekbones. 
Thighs stuttering and sticking with every grind on top of his face, it’s all you can do to manage out a pitchy, “Think I might just- K-Ken–”
He’s swirling up a lazy few fingertips to your needy clit and pinching. “-cum all over m’face again, my girl.”
You do. You do like you can’t stop.
And he’s supping up every draining burble of your flooding slick like it was an antidote to this little ah…indisposition. 
He says so, too - gurgling out wet little scientific explanations into your cunt that make your high peak with orgasms upon orgasms. Your second, third, and forth meshing into one to make you practically convulse. Nanami’s forced to dig his fingers into the plush of your thighs to stop you from escaping. 
And the question about whether this was part of his powers is halfway out of your mouth before Nanami’s leaving off a final swat! again your drooling pussy.
Chuckling - crazed - at the wispy sprays of juices that makes you gush out. 
“C’mon now, do those legs s-still work?” Nanami can’t hide the way that his deep voice wobbles into what almost sounds like a laugh. High. 
You’re being ragdolled with a squelching pop! off of his heated mouth and easily lifted to take his third favorite seat of yours - his lap. The second being his mouth, and the first- well, it was sure to be his thoroughly achy, angry cock right about now. 
“Ken-”
Nanami couldn’t bear to hear his name in your sweet, whimpering tone - he just couldn’t. Shutting you up with a slow slide of a kiss, “Yeahhh, darlin’...kiss me- more. Lick it allll up.”
“D-didn’t think you’d be so dirty…” you’re gasping, when his tongue pries your slagging maw open to once more spit. Sweet. Caramelized. 
“Oh, my pretty girl…” Two of his soppingly wet fingers smush your cheeks into a pathetic pout, “You haven’t seen dirty just yet. Now- spit back in m-my mouth, why don’tcha?”
You do - splattering a messy mark right at that adorable dimple of his with your messy aim. But he loves it - it was so sweet. Darting out a tongue to extract back all those sugary remnants before giving you one, final French kiss. 
Begging in that growling way of his, “Whaddya- whaddya want from me- I’ll give ya anything- anything-” Both arms looping your waist to plaster your sweaty front into his Herculean one, you have to hold back a keen at how your hardened nipples massage against his pecs. 
But, most of all, what you could feel - what you so badly wanted to feel - was that long, thick outline that jerked once you glide away sweaty strands of Nanami’s hair. Desperate. 
“Wan’ your cock, Kento.” You were way past feeling any sort of embarrassment now. Winding your arms around his sculpted shoulders, “N-need you ngh- inside me. Now.”
Of course, whatever you wanted - Nanami Kento would give.
He’s tugging down on the elastic waistband of those too-tight boxers, and your ears burn with the saturated schwf! of soaked fabric on skin. And that superhero suit…did not do him justice. 
Nanami’s slouching back on one arm when you’re oh-so-impatiently helping him kick off that useless piece of fabric. Head tilting with an uncharacteristically cocky smirk, “Like what you ah- see, hm?”
Shit, did you ever. 
Because it’s always the quiet ones - always. 
And with your seat position right at the thick, globular mushroom tip of Nanami’s cock, you knew that he’d be packing a staggering few inches. The mere outline of it puckering up against your pussyflaps enough to get you to gulp with nervousness.
But this? This had your jaw dropping. 
Fingers trailing down that lightly fleeced copper happy trail of his in utter disbelief. Because not only was Nanami Kento big - he was big. 
Swollen, glistening near-nine inches that jerked at the vulgar size difference of your digits struggling to wrap around his ridiculous girth. Nestled against bulky breeder balls rounded and weighing heavily underneath his strawberry pink length. He seemed even harder than usual - and it was all for you.
Fuck, that aphrodisiac. This was all for his gorgeous (future) wife.
Lazily drooling out a thick few wads of pearly pre that butters over your fingerpads, and just a simple touch - just one drag of his sweltering hot length makes Nanami whimper-
“O-oh- yeahhh- brace yerself, my girl.” He’s letting his head tumble back with a groan, heavy-handed arms guiding to the fleshy mound of your waist. “Gonna be ah- ruinin’ this pretty cunt-”
Nanami’s making you mewl with a welcoming little thwack! of his plumply bloated cockhead against your puffed-up pussy lips. Making your creaky bedframe sing out a few protests. Stirring out a staccato of one - two - three before finally - finally - slipping right between that pursed pout. 
CRASH!
An overwhelmed hand of his grips your headboard the moment he’s pushing and pushing - only to have the strong mahogany break underneath his superstrength. Damn, these powers.
“Awww, look how much yer drooling-” Nanami’s hiccuping with every tiny clench of your gummy walls around that cylindrical intrusion. A mean few fingertips so ferally smearing over the rings upon rings of saturated sap your cunt was slobbering all over his hefty base. Drawing a foggy line with them over your tummy, “G-gonna be riiiight here…h-heh.”
And maybe it was best that your dear Nanami was talking to, well, her. Because just the simple stretch that came with his fattened tip was enough to render you spellbound. 
“Nana-”
Smack! “Mhm? M’here, m’here, your dear hngh! Kento is here.”
“Kento- oh my goood-” Nonsensical syllables drooling from your lips and readily available for Nanami to kiss away. Your head slags drunkenly into the crook of his neck with each sinking inch, “S-s’so big, dunno if it’ll even ah- fit.”
“Shhh, s’gonna fit. Deep breaths…deep breaths.” 
You’re echoing, trying to time your stumbling gasps to match his. Backfiring when you only obtain lungfuls of his masculine scent, ‘D-deep breaths?“
“Mhmm- deep-” Oh, but even he wasn’t immune to the cloggy clamp of your pussy that had Nanami rutting. “Whoops.” One of his powerful forearms showcase in front of your narrowed vision, ogling all the pumped veins and rippling muscles. “C’mon- bite.”
You’re listening without a second thought, teeth sinking into the smooth skin - gurgling back tiny sobs at the sheer stretch. It felt like you were being split apart. 
He’s rolling his tips upwards, glissading you in a cozy massage against the ridges of his sweat-shielded abs. “M’gonna make it- duh. Look at me-” Dextrous fingers curling around your throat to make your woozy gaze focus on him, “Yeah- yeah. Look riiiight at me wh-when I ah- ”
And it takes only the tiniest probe of his thumpingly peaked veins bludgeoning against your tender walls, fuming divot bawling out a few geysers of creamy precum that fill you up scorchingly.
It takes only that for you to cum with an unstable shudder, moans piling on top of moans. You’re digging your fingerpads into Nanami’s damp scalp and pulling when you cum for the nth time on his cock.
You didn’t even know how you were cumming again - why, but you had a feeling that the thickening perfume of vanilla and candy in the room had something to do with it…
“C-cummin’ from jus’ the ah- tip? Seriously?” Nanami’s breathing, chest heaving with awe. Pushing and pushing away the heavy strands of his blond hair just to see you. And the urgent motions only make your pussy slide down even more, spearheading his lusciously right-leaning curve up into your gooey placeholders. “Really are jus- ah- made f’me- really ah! So perfect. So, so perfect.”
You’re watching his huffs turn heated, “Mmm- wanted you to f-fuck me like this ever since I was- ngh at the office.”
“Ohhh what a coincidence.” He grins - grins. “I’ve wan’ed to fuck ya like ah- this, since I first s-saw ya. Woulda fucked ya right then n’ there in your pretty lil’ cubicle if I ah- could.”
Crying out, “More- more more more-”
“Jus’ another inch-” Nose crinkling at the gripping resistance of your tight entrance, you were so slicked-up that you were practically flooding him with delirious puddles of resin. His fat thumb smears open your lips, “S-see? Juuuus a lil’ more-”
Oh…fuck.
He was finally- wait. No, this had to be a dream, right?
“Wait- shiiit- did you seriously-” He’s stuttering - stuttering exactly the way he used to back in the office. Back in his disguise. “Seriously…think ya deserve a little r-reward for that, right?”
Your reward just-so-happened to be another treacly wad of saliva being blasted onto your tongue. And by now you’re doing nothing but letting it easily be swallowed up with a cockdrunk smile. “God, m’feelin’ so hngh! full— c-can feel ya right- here-” 
Every jackhammer bullied up into your goopy orifice had Nanami wrecking you from the inside. His crowned, rotund tip prying open those stickily sweet walls of yours, barely even having to try to stir up a wet wipe against your poor cervix. 
“Feel me right-” One softened palm splays down across your tummy. Hard. Feeling for that tenderizing whack of his thickly tip into your most precious spots. “-here, huh? Yeahhh- f-feel that bump- touch it. Gonna c-carve out a fuckin’ ngh- cute lil’ bruise right here.” 
“P-please.”
And then, with a heady drawl of laughter, Nanami’s dredging out his tired tongue to lick over your rapid pulse like he wanted to bite. Palms still groping that orbed bulge, “Y-you wouldn’t believe what this- ngh- this is makin’ me think…”
Ever-so-curious, even when you’re being fucked stupid like this. “Wh-what?”
Earning you another few vicious ruts into your g-spot, a few thin lines of drool waterfall past his lips. Almost as if the very thought is enough to make him light-headed. 
“Jus’ thought a-about how yer always so ngh- pretty.” Muttering low and frantic with every bounce on his painfully hard cock, like he didn’t even want to admit this pussydrunk nonsense. But couldn’t stop. “So pretty when you were handlin’ Yuji today. Pretty when yer all ah- overstuffed with my cock b-but…you’d make an even prettier mama, though.”
Oh. 
A mama - Nanami Kento wanted to make you mama. 
And he was pressurizing you with pound after pound drilling into your melty depths until you were sure that you were molded around his shape. That mountainous curve of his crownhead striking every bullseyed sweet spot.
“Wan’ it-” Your legs wrangle around his slender waist, heels digging into the pretty dimples at the bottom of his spine. “Want you to f-fill me up so ngh- badly, Kento.”
“S-seriously?” Your words so distracting that it has his riotous cock drilling hard into that spot and skidding away in increasingly sappy thrashes against your battered and bruised cervix. Jaw clenching, “Really wan’ me fuckin’ this cute cunt hngh- p-pregnant, darling?”
Making you only nod and nod and nod-
“Yeahhh- anythin’ my girl ah- wants, huh?” He’s tittering at how adorably your hips were slurring out the tiniest of grinds. Up and down up and down - failing to meet his sloppy cadence, but angling your hips to use him. “N’ right now- all I wan’ is you all ah- round and fuuuuull.”
And it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac talking. 
You were beginning to overspill already, the flooded torrentials of his slushy precum seeping from the pouty ends of your slippery slit. You’re moping down his length with such humid tufts of juices, “Cum in me- please- need you to- now.”
“Mama didn’t teach ya ah- patience, my girl?” 
And despite his words, he’s falling back to lounge so sexily against the dampened sheets. Close - he could feel it in the snaking heat at the bottom of his stomach that he was so very close. 
Losing his faint grip on his power, Nanami’s clenching and balling his fists to stop from soiling permanent marks all over your body. Mind shattering. Your bedsprings bursting. Teeth gritting to stop him losing control-
Voice breaking into a few whimpers when he finally utters, “S-s’alright- greedy girl.” Before palming one hand onto the bloated budge of his length, the other swirling over your tearily overstimulated clit and tweaking. “-I can be th-the heh- strict parent.”
Oh, at this point, your orgasm is more a few heavenly tingles than anything else. 
Stimulating your most fragile of pummeled crevices, you’re feeling warm, thick goblets of Nanami’s cum swash in a sticky wave. And there’s so much of it - extra with his condition right now, spurting out ribbony ropes of sickly sweet cum with every squeeze of his bulky balls.
Those knotted wads of ivory are filling you up until your gummy walls were inflating, thunking out a little wet spot at your cervix. Something that he can’t help but keen over a few fat digits and push to make a splashing mess. “Gonna get ya pregnant- I will g-get ya pregnant.”
Nanami’s big, beefy arms are pinning you to the front of his chest like he never wanted to let go. Never would. 
Heaving to chase his breath - and, yet, still failing with every battering ram of his snaking cock. Fucking up the thickly viscous streams of cum up deeper and deeper-
“O-oh.” Nanami’s muttering, glassy wooden eyes straying somewhere beyond you and towards the end of the bed. The strangely…sagging bed. “We broke the- hah- we broke the bed.”
Shit. But you barely have the time to register his words before- THUD!
Your back is being brazenly splayed-out across the mahogany floors of your bedroom, Nanami’s arms underneath you shielding your body from every ounce of the stinging smack. Strong. Holding onto you tight. 
Still pumped inside, still carving out the free ounces with masses upon masses of his swollen cock. 
With your head drooping barely-lucidly to the side, you’re gasping at the blackened palm print that had burned itself onto the floor right beside your head.
The air around the two of you was candied, pheromones of candy and vanilla melding into what was probably your favorite scent now. Ahhhh…he didn’t even care if this was the cure anymore.
And despite being the strongest being in perhaps the entire universe, Nanami was melting into you. His abs adhesively plastered against your front, hips rolling in what can’t even be called grinds. Just simple, sappy gyrations of his still-twitchy cock. 
He’s whispering out a slurring mantra of words into your thoroughly wrenched open mouth - barely even able to talk coherently after that mind-shattering orgasm. “Lock- lock them- lock them please-”
“I-I caaaan’t.” You’re whimpering out, limp legs uselessly dangling like dead weight where Nanami was resting them on the cushiony home of his deltoids. 
But not to worry. Of course not to worry, your Nanami was here for you. 
Biceps bulging when one arm bends to pin your ankles behind his neck, he’s folding you down, down, down into such a filthy mating press. 
Moving you around as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t hear your joint weakly popping. His healing powers being kicked involuntarily into overdrive…fuck.
Nanami can feel his cock jerk - barely softened for a few nanoseconds before thumping with every ounce of blood in his fully spent brain.
“Awww, t-too weak?” Planting a sodden peck against the corner of your ankles. And something in that tone told you that the two of you were far, far from over. That the slowly drunken fucking of Nanami’s hips was just the beginning. He’s squashing back a few remnant dredges of seed from just earlier, slipping out just enough to smear a messy white lipstick. “Well then…”
You’re jolting at the quick pap! pap! pap! of his ballooned tip popping out a few sloppily smushing strikes - before sinking deeply back in.
He’s fucking you again- and again and again and-
“Y-you know I h-haaaah- hate disrespectin’ my girl like- this-” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, gesturing languidly at the expanse of the floor. Ever-the-gentleman…usually. “-but if s’f-fer makin’ our daughter…then. Gotta make sure that I can be her Superdad.”
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A/N. Hope you lovelies have the best week n’ happy new year in advance <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
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superbat-love · 3 months ago
Text
Batman may claim to have no powers, but Green Lantern knows better. He’s convinced that Batman’s cape is sentient.
Green Lantern has observed it on quiet nights in the Watchtower, when Batman thinks no one’s paying attention. He releases control over his cape, letting it unravel and float menacingly around him in different directions. It moves on its own, sweeping across nearby surfaces, carelessly knocking over items.
There’s one thing Green Lantern knows for sure—Batman’s cape has a sweet tooth. Every time Batman passes the candy bowl, it’s mysteriously emptied.
Even stranger, it seems to influence other capes. Once, while Batman was talking to Superman, their capes briefly touched, and Green Lantern saw Superman’s cape come to life—swirling and fluttering as though it had a mind of its own. Superman, unfazed, didn’t even react to the way their capes were flapping erratically around them. Green Lantern was relieved he didn’t have a cape.
He told the others about his theory, but they were skeptical at first. They eyed Batman’s cape with suspicion as he was distracted by a mission briefing with Wonder Woman. But even the Flash had to admit Green Lantern might be onto something when Batman’s cape swiped their feet out from under them, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Martian Manhunter nodded sagely and agreed on its intelligence, having felt the minds of four little beings flitting around underneath Batman’s cape. Maybe one day they’d feel comfortable enough to run underneath his cape too.
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ssahotchnerr · 10 days ago
Note
possible idea for married hotch since you asked for requests😋 (and cause i love your writing)
maybe one where he gets injured and with the rest of the bau he’s just brushing it off but when wifey pulls up? different story.
he’s just all 🥺🥺 at her and the team is like wtaf?
also can i be 🌊 anon pretty please?
healing touches
i love that 🥺🥺🤕 cw; bau fem!reader, established relationship (hehe they're soooo in love), injury/blood descriptions, aaron being stubborn🙄, playful banter, fluff <333
The first SUV arrived back at the police department after apprehending the unsub. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss walked inside, pulling their vests off in sync.
You might have been mistaken, but their gazes immediately locked onto you as they removed their protective gear. Their stares were almost unsettling, as if they knew something you didn’t, and were waiting to see the rest unfold. Unease filled you from head to toe.
"Hey," you stacked a few files together, placing them down. "How'd it go? Did you get him?"
"Yeah, 'course we did." Morgan sauntered over, dropping his vest onto the table with a thud.
"Well," Emily added, a slight grimace on her face. "Not without putting up a relentless fight. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that."
A bad feeling formed in your gut. Even Spencer's attention was gained, his head lifting from his book.
"What do you me-"
Your words were interrupted by Aaron and JJ walking in. JJ, perfectly fine. Aaron on the other hand, was moving at a much slower speed than normal, definitely banged up with a fair amount of blood present on his face.
Your eyes widened in alarm, meeting him halfway.
"Oh my god, Aaron. Are you okay?" You immediately unstrapped his vest for him, tucking it under your arm. The lessening pressure seemed to help some, light tension lifting from his body.
Your hand raised to cup his jaw, moving it gently to observe the damage. There was definitely a developing bruise underneath his right eye, his forehead and cheek were both littered with scrapes of all shapes and sizes. Aaron winced when his head reached a particular angle, and it wasn't a subtle wince either. It was a startling jolt, agonizing pain obvious.
But it was at your touch, and your presence, that his eyes softened. The stagnant sharpness dissolving as he looked at you with a tenderness that was almost too raw to hide. You pulled back to get a better look at him as whole, ensuring he was fully intact.
"He's 'fine', in case you were wondering. Only told us 'bout a million times." Morgan added air quotes, sitting down and kicking his feet onto the table. "Refused medical attention, even."
"Manners." You swatted his foot, causing him to lower them before turning back to Aaron. You tutted at him softly, "You did? After that lil stunt you just pulled?"
"Well... I guess it is starting to hurt more now."
"I wonder why," JJ commented humorously under her breath, hiding her smile with her palm. Additionally, Emily and Derek gave him a look.
You quickly reached into your bag, riffling through it until you found your handy tube of Neosporin. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."
Aaron didn't argue, didn't utter a single word as he followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once inside the small space you maneuvered him back against the sink, washing your hands next.
"That was stupid of you." You wet a paper towel, dabbing his cuts and ridding of any dry blood, once again causing him to flinch at the touch. You pulled the towel away, pausing a moment, before resuming gently. "Even if you think you're not in need of getting checked out, please do, for my sake at least. I'd like my husband to stay in one piece if possible."
"I know, I'm sorry."
"What happened?"
"We were clearing the grounds and he managed to catch me by surprise," Aaron huffed out, evidently annoyed at himself. "I should have seen it coming. Seen him in the shadows, reacted faster."
"Baby, you may think you have the invincibility of Superman, but you don't. You're human, it's okay to miss things every once and a while." You reassured him softly, tossing the towel aside and moving onto the Neosporin. After dabbing some onto your index finger, you began blotting it thoroughly onto the cuts. "Which I'm fine with, by the way, you're much better looking."
"Yeah?" A laugh escaped Aaron, but his chuckle was interrupted by the twinge in his ribcage, the entirety of it shooting up in pain.
"I'm sorry," you gasped gently, guilt sweeping through you.
"It's fine, 'm fine." He breathed out through his teeth, his jaw clenching momentarily, until the pain subsided. "I'm okay sweetheart. Now c'mon, your face is far too pretty to look that worried."
Your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes frantically searching his face.
"Really. So I'm a little bruised up, I've been through far worse."
You sighed, not entirely convinced. "Fine. But when we get home tomorrow," your eyes narrowed slightly, pointing the Neosporin at him as a 'threat'. "You're resting. Come hell or high water."
"Deal."
"I'm happy you're okay." Suddenly emotional, tears dared to spill from your eyes. They stalled at your waterline, completely blurring your vision. You hated to see him in pain, and the reminder of past events didn't help. "Don't scare me like that."
"C'mere," Aaron raised his arms, gesturing for you to come close.
"I don't want to hurt you-"
"Come here."
You took a step forward, not raising your arms to potentially inflict pain, but rest your body against his. Your face found home in the crook of his neck, while his arms did wrap around you. Not as tight as usual, but enough to hold you and not hurt.
"I'm fine," he kissed the side of your head. "And I have my girl to thank for that. Although, you did miss a spot."
"I did? Where?" You pulled back, beginning to unscrew the tube's cap but Aaron's hand stopped you.
"Right here." He pointed to his lips, playing up the 'anguish' in his eyes. "Hurts real bad."
Your lips tugged into a smile, leaning in and offering him a short, sweet kiss.
"That's all I get?"
You playfully rolled your eyes before giving his lips another quick kiss. He chased your lips, but you pulled back, keeping just out of reach.
"Want a longer one? Get medical attention next time."
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mollyrealized · 1 year ago
Text
How Michael Met Neil
original direct link [MP3]
(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)
DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.
MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.
DAVID: Exactly.
MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”
And I said, “No.”  I mean, this is … what … '88?  '88, '89.  So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books.  Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.
DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books
MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.
And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No."  And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”
And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story.  And I absolutely loved it.
So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.
And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”
And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy."  Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick.  Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.
Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe.  Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.
It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman.  And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.
DAVID: You'd never met him?
MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …
And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA.  And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."
I said, “All right.”
He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”
I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."
He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.
I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary. 
And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."
So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.”  You know, “This is eel.  This is [blah].”
And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.
And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"
"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."
And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.
And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"
And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*
[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]
And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"  
We'd finished, so we pay our bill.  And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil.  And we leave. We have no idea what happened.
DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.
MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be –  it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.
So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.
Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.
We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.
And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.
DAVID: That’s extraordinary.
MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months.  So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"
"No, I haven't heard anything."
And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.
DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.
MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"
I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.
DAVID: Isn't it?
MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.
DAVID: Was there anything inside it?
MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...
DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.
MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.
DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.
MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...
DAVID: Were you involved at that point?
MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.
DAVID: Right.
MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.
And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course."  I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.
But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.”  But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.
DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].
MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.
DAVID: Sure, sure.
MICHAEL: I can do this.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”
But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well.  And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."
And neither of us would bring it up.  And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.
And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.
DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?
MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.
DAVID: But we have Neil on site.
MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …
DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.
MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.
DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.
MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.
DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.
MICHAEL: Oh my God.  Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.
This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”.  I think of it totally as us.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: The two of us.
DAVID: Yes.
MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.
DAVID: Yeah.
MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.
DAVID: Yeah.  Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.
MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.
And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard.  I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.
You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.
And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you. 
Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.
DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.
MICHAEL: Thank you.
DAVID: For talking today and for being here.
MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.
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nightingale-prompts · 4 months ago
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You are not Special- DC X DP Prompt
Interdimensional God-like beings are not known for their patience, however it looked like they had gotten lucky.
This being that had been summoned against its will to their universe was actually quite calm. They sat back on a makeshift throne made by the cultists that had brought them here. Its body was the form of a young man draped in silk. He paid little mind to the cult bowing and scraping at his feet as he absentmindedly examined his nails for anything under them. They were as pristine as his marble-like form.
"You know cults get a bad reputation in these modern times." He said not looking up at the heroes who had invaded his sanctuary intent on sealing him away. "Not without cause of course. But not every cult is evil. As oxymoronic as that sounds. But it used to mean a group of people devoted to their god of choice, no different than any other religion except they lived solely to dedicate their lives to it. No tricks or schemes, just beliefs. None of that sacrifice or blood here though. I like cleanliness and a good batch of dessert for my alters."
"We aren't here to give your offerings." Batman said simply.
The teen stretched lazily and shrugged.
"You are free to just pray, take a rest, eat, or do whatever you want."
"You don't belong here. You must return to your own realm." Superman said fimly but cordially.
The cultists panicked as they looked between their god and the heroes. Some had disdain etched on their faces others had sadness.
"Don't belong? I do what I want. Who are you people to tell ME what to do? Do you own this planet? This universe?" The god challenged.
"We are the protectors of this planet. Surely you understand that we can't let you stay here using humans like servants." Superman retorted.
Constantine had a bad feeling about what came next as he got between everyone to speak.
"Sorry, forgive him. We don't want to offend. It's just that our universe has had enough beings like you causing issues in the past. We are a bit exhausted because every major event seems to hit our planet. We are a bit defensive."
The teens's lip curled.
"Do you think you are the only planet with such woes? How conceited. What you believe that your little planet is so special that it is the only one subject to the powers of beings you can't control? As we speak there a thousands of beings influencing this world that have a bigger effect than what I'm currently doing. Are you tired of being the playthings of the universe? Bah! The universe doesn't care one bit what goes on on this little planet over the billions of planets in this universe. You are no more special than a bit of algae on a frozen world." The teen sneered.
"But that doesn't change the fact that we would like one less threat to deal with," Batman said as Constantine tried to shut him up. "Even if you do not care about humans, we care what you can do to us."
"A good point but I never said I didn't care. I'm actually fond of humans but no more fond of them than any other lifeforms. There are billions of aliens in this universe alone. But not one is special because all life is special. Not one is better. But any damage I could possibly do to you could easily be done by the many unseen gods of this realm. These beings have built this world from those that actively created it, ignore it, and those that don't even realize it exists. Could you believe that your own creator doesn't know you are there? It's actually very common."
"You're dodging the question and talking in circles. We just want you to leave." Batman sighed irritably.
"You keep telling me to leave. I have just arrived but I've also always been here. Is this how you greet me?" The teen crossed his arms.
"Are you a god of this world?" Wonder Woman stepped forward this time. "You dress like that of a Roman god."
"Do you like it? I got it from Rome a few thousand years ago."
Well, he never failed to turn something into a compliment, that's for sure.
"But that's a complicated question. If you're asking if I made your universe then, no. If your asking if it exists because of me then, yes. It exists because I do. It's my nature. So I'm not a god. I'm a law of nature." The boy leaned back and kicked his feet childishly.
"You look like a kid." Clark blurted.
"Well... you're right. But you didn't have to point it out." He pouted.
"I mean, you just look...like a person. Not a force of nature." Clark quickly corrected.
"I look like what you can perceive me as. Can't ask a two-dimensional creature to understand three dimensions. Think of me as an anthropomorphic personification of a concept." The teen stood up finally and walked around his bowing worshippers.
"And what are you?" Batman said stiffly as the boy reached him.
"I am the Void. The absence of force or untethered space and infinite possibilities. A place of raw unprocessed energy. So if I exist then a tethered space with one string of possibilities exists. Think string theory." The boy laughed.
"Wait, I know what you are. You're an Ancient, an Endless. I thought I'd get a break from your lot after Morpheus." Constantine said.
The group turned to Constantine in surprise, not surprised that he knew what the kid was but that he had done this before.
"Look, kid. Your lot don't show themselves often. Especially not in front of so many people. You'd usually lay low among mortals." Constantine said suspicious of the young Endless. "Do the others know you are playing around?"
The teen presses his lips together. He glares like someone has ruined his game.
"Should I try summoning them and ask." Constantine smirked, he knew he found his in.
"You wouldn't." He frowned.
"I would." Constantine said "Unless you want to go home on your own."
The boy tried to protest but a portal opened on its own and a hand reached out grabbing the boy by the ear.
"What are you doing in the mortal realm this time?! I told you to focus on fixing the timelines not playing god like a child!" The voice boomed.
"But Clockwork-" The teen whined as he was dragged through the portal "I was just pulling a prank. I swear!"
The boy's voice was muffled and distant as he got to the other side. Then the prtal closed and it was over.
The room went silent.
"He was right. There is nothing special about any life form over another. But that also means he is no different than a human child and held to the same standards." Constantine said lighting a cigarette before leaving the ruins. "You can handle the rest right?"
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sunsburns · 13 days ago
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Hey girl I have a request. I think Clark is into body worship, both receiving and giving but I feel he’d be so cute being in the receiving end. He’s Superman, he gets praise all the time and takes it in stride, but when it comes to you? Oh he gets shy, his cheeks are pink, he stutters a bit. When you tell him how big he is, there’s always a “…you think so?” “I’m not that big…”. His eyes are glazed when you start kissing and groping him everywhere appreciatively. Clark becomes bashful and flustered because all the praise coming from YOU just hits different. Can you please add onto this 😭😭😭
oh, you are absolutely cooking here. clark being shy and flustered when he’s on the receiving end of body worship? that’s a full-course meal. (18+) ᢉ𐭩
it starts with something small. maybe an offhand compliment while he's getting dressed—your eyes lingering just a second too long, watching how his muscles shift under his skin, the sheer width of him, the way his broad shoulders slope into a tapered waist, strong arms straining slightly as he buttons up his shirt.
“you’re so big.”
three words, simple, but they wreck him.
his hands falter, button slipping from his fingers, and his head turns towards you, brows pinched in disbelief, a soft, breathy laugh escaping him like he’s not sure he heard you right.
“…you think so?”
he’s genuinely unsure. as if he hasn’t had people across the globe marvel at him, as if he isn’t literally superhuman in strength, in stature, in presence. but this—you looking at him like that, eyes dark and full of appreciation, tracing every inch of him with slow, lingering touches—this is different.
“clark, baby,” you hum, stepping in closer, letting your hands drag up his chest, feeling the solid weight of him under your palms. you look up at him, “you’re huge.”
his throat bobs, adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. his skin burns under your touch, warmth radiating from him like a furnace.
“i’m not that big…” he tries, voice going a little weak when your fingers curl around his biceps, giving them an appreciative squeeze.
you just smile, letting your hands wander, mapping the planes of his body like you have all the time in the world. “mm, you are. so big. so strong. so perfect.”
and that’s when it happens—his ears go pink first, then his cheeks, and then that soft, bashful smile creeps onto his face, the kind that makes his dimples show. he can’t handle it. his hands come up like he’s going to stop you, but they just hover, unsure—because does he really want you to stop?
“you—” his voice catches, and he lets out another laugh, this time breathier, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. like he can’t believe he gets you.
but you’re not done. no, now that you see how he’s unravelling, you want more. you press your lips to his collarbone, slow and reverent, and he melts. his body twitches under your mouth, his breath coming out uneven as your kisses trail lower, over his chest, down the ridges of his abs, your hands following close behind, smoothing over every dip, every curve of muscle.
and clark—sweet, sweet clark—is squirming.
“baby,” he breathes, voice cracking just a little as he watches you kneel before him, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. “you don’t have to—”
“but i want to.” you cut him off, lips ghosting over the center of his stomach, feeling how his muscles flex beneath your mouth. you move lower, pressing your cheek against his crotch. you basically nuzzle against his boner, tracing the shape of it with your lips, mouthing it, kissing it over his clothes.
“you’re so beautiful, clark. so handsome. so perfect.”
his whole face is red now, a helpless, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, completely overwhelmed. his body can handle a lot, but this?
“okay, but make it quick.”
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clockwayswrites · 7 months ago
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5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.
One. Two. Three.
“I am sure that it is clear to everyone that the mission was almost a complete disaster.”
“Almost?” Superman asked with a smidgen of a smile.
Hal thought it was brave and very, very stupid of Superman to ask that while Batman was glaring at all of them like he’d squish them if they were just small enough for him to step. And if it wouldn't get his boots too dirty.
Batman’s glare narrowed to focus on Superman alone. “We’re alive. Barely.”
“Batman—”
“No,” Batman shut down Supes’ argument with a barked word. “No. While you might be unconcerned, not all of us are indestructible, Superman.”
That finally made Superman lose any amusement that he had and he look away from Batman, properly cowled. Hal felt a little sorry for the guy, but also Supes deserved that. Not all of them were naturally bullet proof and Batman didn’t even have any powers (it seemed).
“Everyone write up a report: what went wrong, what little went right, and what we should do differently. We will discuss it next week. Expect there to be more training sessions scheduled soon,” Batman ordered.
And then he turned and left with an overly dramatic flare of his cape.
“What?” Hal asked.
“He’s just… leaving?” Superman asked. He sounded a little lost.
Batman didn’t just leave when there was work to be done.
Diana rested a hand on big blue’s shoulder. “I believe you rather overstepped, my friend.”
Oh he was more hurt than any of them knew.
Hal jogged after the retreating form. “Hey, hey Spooky, wait a sec!”
Batman’s shadowed form almost hunched forward on itself as he stopped but didn’t turn around.
“What?”
“Just…” Some of Hal’s bravado left him now that he was actually having to ask; luckily Hal had bravado in spades. “I wanted to make sure you were too badly hurt. You took some hard hits out there and like you said, not all of us are bullet proof.”
Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer. More, Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer him of all people. They had found more of an understanding with each other lately: Hal let Batman do the planning and Batman trusted Hal (a little) to break the plan in the field, but they still clashed a lot.
Then Batman let out a weary sounding huff of air. “There is nothing major. Everything will heal, though I could use plenty of ice and a good whiskey.”
Hal let himself chuckle at that. “Man, I feel that. A good whiskey, or lots of bad beer, sounds good. I just wanted to make sure. You’re rushing out of here like there’s a fire on your ass. Would hate for you to be bleeding out or something.”
Another long pause that Hal tried not to fidget through.
“It’s late. I would like to get home to enjoy my anniversary while there is still any of it left.”
“Your— oh, shit, yeah man, get out of here!” Hal said, waving Batman away.
What the hell, Hal wondered as he watched Batman sweep away for a second time, Spooky was married?
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confused-wanderer · 1 year ago
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The biggest fuck you the bat kids can throw at Bruce is to appoint someone else as their father figure when they get mad at him.
Bruce doesn’t really care if they go to anyone else for help. It stings sure, but he trusts them. What he can’t handle is them going to someone for simple things like ice cream. Or movie night. Or quality time. That’s HIS job. You can partner with them, you better not try to parent them.
Once when kid Dick was pissed at Bruce for not allowing him to be violent towards a villain, he’d grabbed Superman’s hand and declared he wanted Uncle Clark to tend to his injuries and tuck him in bed.
The amount of jealousy and anger radiating off the Bat was so enormous Superman almost thought the man was about to stab him with a Kryptonite sword and couldn’t stop fearing for his life.
Then came Jason, and after getting mad at Bruce for not letting him buy five libraries, he finds Alfred and spends the day as his son, calling himself Jason Penyworth. When Tim came along, he was once fed up with Bruce’s antics and dragged Dick - who had just entered after a gruelling week - out of the mansion, declaring he wanted a different parental figure and insisted they get takeout and have an arcade night. Hell even when Stephanie stormed off and decided to crash at Barbara’s instead of the mansion, Oracle could’ve sworn that Bruce was pouting under his mask, silently sulking at his rejection.
And Damian, well Damian had heard stories of all of this happening, and although he wasn’t a child and refused to throw petty tantrums like the rest of the siblings, one day Bruce’s advice wears on his last nerve and he marches upto the figure reading a book on the other end of the room before demanding they go out to an art studio that day.
He grabs hold of the hand, hears him stuttering behind him but doesn’t pay any heed. Grayson wouldn’t mind after all. He was sure of it. They go outside, and Damian whirls around, about to declare that he wanted to go to the art gallery and spend the night somewhere other than the mansion when his eyes meet a pair of confused blue ones and the words die down in his throat.
He could feel the heat building on his face as he and Tim stared at each other for a few seconds.
It wasn’t his fault Drake and Grayson looked so damn similar! And Drake was sitting on Richard’s spot! Why was the failure doing that?? He knew it, he was trying to throw Damian off his hand and he’d succeeded! He was going to turn around, and hand Damian off to Bruce. Served him right for being so mindless.
Damian knows he should say something, but his mind was blank. He stuttered, furiously trying to think of an explanation before the other man chuckles and lets Kon know he won’t be available for the rest of the day.
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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago
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kink-o-ween - day nineteen
lando norris - size kink
cw: smut/pwp, size kink/difference, loving!lando, protective (possessive) behaviour, hand holding, big dick!lando
kink-o-ween master-list
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while lando wasn't a mountain, there was still a bit of a size difference between you two. at least in strength, lando liked to feel like the big strong protector to show off that he could easily keep you safe. because he simply loved you so, so much. not that he found you weak or anything, he just liked being your hero.
and you let him, everything from carrying the groceries in one trip to letting him carry your suitcase when you went on trips together. you even allowed him to carry you at times. lando loved when he could just pick you up and start sprinting with you in his arms. it was cute and even though you yelled the entire time he did it, you secretly loved it too.
you really noticed the differences during a rainy day on the track. you both had to get to the other side of the paddock, out in the rain to be with the rest of the team. the issue was that there was only one raincoat.
"you can put it on." he said as he pushed the jacket towards you, "it's just a little rain." he looked out the open door. it was more than a little rain, because of it the race had been delayed for hours now. you thought eventually that there were going to be fish swimming on the track due to the water!
"i can't have you getting soaked and sick, lando. you can take it, i can afford to get a little wet." you replied as you tried to give it back to him.
"you're going to have to let me carry you, and try to cover us with the raincoat. we just have to get over there." lando said as he made sure the coat was still in your hands.
you nodded, there weren't many other options. you were soon on his back, with your weight pressed against him as you tried to hold the raincoat over the both of you. lando counted down before he took off in a sprint towards where you both needed to be. you both yelled at lando held onto you and ran in the rain. he could feel himself getting soaked regardless, and you fared no better.
by the time you got to the rest of mclaren, you were both soaking wet. the coat did very little to protect you both. but lando's feat of strength left an impression on you and it was only fueled by him helping you dry off with a towel, telling you not to catch a cold.
but it wasn't until after the race and back in the motor home for the night that the impression grew into something larger. you were in bed with him, dressed in very little to maximize comfort. lando was on his phone and your hand was on his chest as you cuddled with him.
"i always forget how big your hands are compared to mine." you remarked, "i know they're bigger, but i always forget how much bigger."
lando put his phone down on his chest for a moment, and reached for your hand. he replied with a laugh, "you once said they were like bear paws but they are pretty big compared to yours." he then leans over to kiss you on the lips.
you blushed, "i have to be honest, i thought you trying to protect me from the rain was really hot. seeing you all big and strong. you were like my superman."
lando moved his phone to the nightstand and turned closer to you. his hand in yours, "oh yeah? did that make you all hot and bothered? when i dried you off, you did feel pretty warm."
you swallowed as he leaned closer to you and played with the gold chain around you neck. the one that he got you when you first started to see one another. you blushed when he smiled at you, you admitted to him, "it was really hot. like really, really hot."
he laughed a little, "i didn't know i had such an impact on you." he was lying a little, he knew quite well that he turned you on. because you turned him on quite often.
you held onto his hand, they were really big compared to yours. and it encouraged him to kiss him once more. you shifted a little on the bed as he pressed his weight onto you. the true difference between you two was in his sweatpants. lando's cock was quite big.
you giggled when your boyfriend slipped his hands under your t-shirt. you felt goosebumps from his rough fingertips against your warmed skin. you were so soft and sensitive and it drove lando wild.
"lando." you moved a little more, a small moan left your lips and lando smiled against you.
"you feel amazing. i can't wait to feel your cute little cunt." his dirty talk was unmatched. cheesy one-liners made you hot when they came from lando. it was the type of talking that left you named soon after. and lando stripped you down bare and admired your naked body under him. he got himself between your legs and you swallowed.
he got himself out of his sweatpants and briefs, and his cock was soon exposed for you. a little below eight inched, and he could do some damage if he wasn't careful. he took you by the thighs and pulled you up against him. he groaned as his hard-on rubbed against your achy cunt.
"what if it doesn't fit?"
he chuckled, "oh don't worry, baby. i think it'll fit just fine." then got himself into you with ease. you arched your back as he got it all the way to the base. you felt the hot wash of lust on your core. he moved against you and felt the excitement in his body. there was no one like you. no on e that made him this good. you were a perfect fit for him. he leaned forward and grasped your hands in to his then pinned them onto the bed.
"i want you for the rest of my days." he said with tenderness in his tone, "all to myself, to love and keep. you are mine, all mine." he chuckled before he pulled you into a soft kiss as he continued to rut up against you. the feeling made you stomach twist and you felt extremely hot. only lando could make a ting of possessiveness feel hot.
"i love you." you squeaked.
"and i love you too." he replied as he held you. he thrusted up into you, it was a promise. he knew that he going to propose one day. but until then he'd just have to tell you every day that he loved you. he moved against you, there was a fire in his brain as he held onto you while the two of you made love on the bed. he was so much bigger than you, his cock filled just the right niches. it made you feel an inferno in your gut. it was incredibly hot. your toes curled as he fucked you.
you both fit so well together, "fuck." you gasped.
"so beautiful, angel." he said, "look at my beautiful girl. no one else can ever compare to you." his mouth ran while he fucked you. pleasure thumped inside of him as he continued to move.
"lando, please." you moaned and clenched onto his hands tightly. you moved a little to meet his pace and it made you hotter.
lando licked his lips and he continued to fuck you, "my lovely angel. i'm obsessed with you." he chuckled as he moved, his voice felt tighter the more he dragged his cock in and out of you.
you could feel his cock deep inside of you. it near bruised the deepest parts of you with his sheer size. there was so much you could feel and it made you grip his hands tightly. the noises got louder between the two of you. the kisses became hotter and messier. you moaned between them. lando even licked across your lips which made you roll your hips faster.
"perfect." he groaned as he continued to bully your pussy with his cock, "remember when you'd strain to take al of me. now you're perfection and i love it. fuck, you're amazing." he tensed up.
he knew he was getting close and he pace quickened. you moved quickened as well to meet him pace. he wanted to mess up your pretty insides and that made the heat too much to bear.
"lando. ah! honey!" you cried out a tthe high of list. you could feel his lingering gaze on you, his heated body pressed further against yours as he sloppily made out with you.
"my girl." he said in a tone that dripped with want. he felt you climax around his cock. it made him yearn for you more.
you were both each other's addiction and to share the heat together was amazing. lando worked your body some more and soon he finished inside of you with a heavy groan.
"fuck." he praised as he held on tightly to your hands. he gave you one last kiss and you gave him one last sweet look before he stopped his movements. he rested against you and you lean towards him to kiss him on the lips once more. he melted a little from the feeling. how tender you were. when he pulled away, you only pulled him back in to snuggle one another.
"no one can ever compare to you." he chuckled, you two kissed one another. even with the slight ache between your legs. you loved the feeling of your larger boyfriend <3
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mokulule · 9 months ago
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While I fail to focus after my night shift have a peek at another of my brain worms
Untitled, I am still waiting for that moment of divine inspiration. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)  Fandom: DP x DC 
The only sounds in the Batcave were the bats chittering amongst themselves high above. Bruce rubbed his chin absently as he took in the information displayed on the large screens with narrowed eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Somebody was lying.
No matter how many times he looked over the information, that was his conclusion. It nagged at him that he didn’t know what, if any, information he could use. He hated being so in the dark. 
A silent notification in the corner of his screen alerted him to a call from the Watchtower. He took it and Superman’s face appeared in a smaller rectangle on the center of the screen. Bruce kept outwardly placid but from behind the cowl nobody would see the way his gaze instantly zeroed in on the massive black eye Superman had acquired, and the general strain around his unhurt eye and mouth. He was worn out. 
“Phantom has been apprehended,” Superman said with a long sigh. It had clearly not been an easy fight. 
“I’ll be there,” Batman said and ended the call. Maybe they’d finally get some real answers. 
He stood and walked towards the zeta tube. Another call came in, this time on the comm in his cowl. 
“Hood,” he greeted.
“Hey, old man. I’m at the location. You were right it’s absolutely crawling with the white suits and their weaponry is not like anything I’ve seen before.”
Bruce felt like a hand squeezed his heart. Hood out of anyone knew his weapons, if he didn’t know them they weren’t on the market. He absolutely hated asking any of his kids to walk into an unknown situation. Unfortunately he didn’t have any other options. 
“Be careful, Hood.”
“Aww, is that worry I detect?”
“Just don’t take unnecessary risks,” Bruce cautioned.
“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t think it was necessary, old man. Don’t worry, I’ll get you your intel.”
Bruce grunted. Jason was right. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it was important. Didn’t mean he had to like it, nor the fact that Red Hood’s criminal reputation made him perfect for breaking into a government building; even if Hood was seen the Justice League kept plausible deniability. 
Everyone knew Red Hood was a wild card. 
“Check in regularly with Oracle.”
He could practically feel the way Jason rolled his eyes at him.
“Not my first rodeo, B.”
With that the connection cut off. Bruce couldn’t help the bad feeling he had about everything. 
He really hated this stage of an investigation. 
Two months ago the US government contacted the Justice League about a problem. Several bases of a government agency named the GIW had been hit by a malicious creature they called Phantom. The attacks had been gaining in severity and frequency and their measures had so far failed to stop it. 
Since then, a member of the Justice League had arrived too late to five such attacks. They’d stood no chance against Phantom, who’d then disappeared, living up to the name.
To their eyes Phantom was outwardly a humanoid, possibly a meta or alien. The GIW called him a ghost from a different dimension.
They had been at a loss of how exactly to contain such a powerful foe, who not only could go toe to toe with their heavy hitters like Superman, but also disappear by means unknown. This time they’d been prepared. They’d had various team configurations ready to go depending on who was available. 
Something that seemed to have paid off, but Bruce did not like that Clark was injured. Because if Clark was injured…
A zeta tube ride later and he met Superman on the Watchtower. Something that hadn’t been apparent on the call was the sling Superman’s left arm was in. Another visible injury added to the swollen eye. 
“Is everyone alright?” He had to ask.
“Nobody’s permanently hurt.” Clark hurried to assure as they started walking towards the interrogation room, but there was a but. Bruce kept his stare steady until Clark tiredly elaborated: “But nobody got out the fight unscathed. John won’t be walking for a while. J’onn is suffering from psychic backlash. Diana has some broken ribs and scrapes and you can see my own wounds. Everyone is tired, it was a long fight.”
Batman’s lips thinned. At least there had been no casualties. 
Almost as if reading his mind. Superman added quietly. 
“We got there while the base was still standing. Phantom made eye contact with me for a moment, before he unleashed this… sonic attack…” His face turned pained, as he looked for words that came halting. “It was a scream, I can’t describe it, it felt- it felt like I was dying. None of us could get close.”
Superman looked away.
“When it was over the base was gone, eradicated, like the others. There was just a large crater. Who knows how many people were still in there.”
Bruce set a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was never easy to deal with casualties. 
“The one good thing about it was that the scream seemed to drain quite a bit of energy from him.” Clark barked a laugh, short and hysterical. Bruce knew Clark would have rather faced Phantom at full power if it meant more people had lived. 
“And still it was all we could do to subdue him. We barely won.”
They barely won. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter, and they barely won. The knowledge sat like a heavy ball in Bruce’s chest. 
Now, maybe they could get intel that wasn’t most reluctantly handed over by a government agency, that didn’t even want to reveal what their alphabet soup name was an abbreviation of. “We had to turn off the ‘Ghost Shield’ to get Phantom inside the base, so we at least know it works, even if for some reason it doesn’t protect the GIW bases,” Superman remarked.  
Bruce hnn’ed to show he’d heard. It was one more discrepancy among many.
Batman entered the observation room with Superman at his back. Wonder Woman was there and he quickly took in her unusually disheveled appearance, she looked tired and uncomfortable, shaken (but whole, safe). He nodded in greeting and she gave him a tight smile in return. He turned to the observation window and felt his breath stick in his throat.
Phantom was- 
The glitchy footage they’d managed to get on earlier encounters couldn’t have prepared him. Bruce felt his jaw clench. Phantom looked young. There was still a hint of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. He was short and wiry like Tim but maybe a bit younger than Jason, technically an adult, but to Bruce he still looked painfully young. The overall glowing and the slowly seeping green wound at his hairline didn’t take away just how human he looked. 
Bruce looked at Phantom and saw a kid. Worse, supposedly a dead kid, a ghost, if the most basic of their intel was to be believed, which even that he wasn’t entirely sure of.
A weight was heavy on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he had found evidence of Phantom throughout history and if a ghost was truly what he was, he was most likely a very old, very powerful spirit, for whom age didn’t matter. It would be a mistake to trust the youthful appearance. 
He was chained to the chair both by wide cuffs at his wrists and ankles so he could only move very little. The cuffs were the best they had when it came to meta power suppression cuffs with some added ghost specific sigils courtesy of Zatanna’s research. She would have liked Constantine to look them over too as that sort of thing was more his area of expertise, but he’d been off on one of his extra-dimensional missions since long before this started and they hadn’t been able to contact him. 
The cuffs kept Phantom here in any case and he didn’t look happy about it. His lips were a flat line and the thick black brows were drawn together over narrowed green eyes. His head was held high (stubbornness? Pride?), chin tilted in a way that showed off a bright green-purple line around his throat, which had it been red and on a human would have looked like rope burn-
Bruce looked to Diana and he suddenly understood part of her discomfort.
“He was about to use another sonic attack, I didn’t see any other way.” Her words were quiet, regretful, but she faced his gaze head on. Bruce nodded. She never would have used the lasso like that under normal circumstances. It was incredibly worrying how much it had taken to subdue him. 
For a moment the three of them just stood there in silence, watching Phantom watch the door.
It was finally time for answers. 
Bruce didn’t make any outward sign that he was about to move, but of course Clark caught on even before he’d moved, stepping aside letting Bruce take point. They went into the interrogation room, Diana staying back to observe and be ready with security measures, they didn’t know for sure would even work.
They entered the room and immediately sharp green eyes locked onto him. There was a quick glance towards Superman, but the eyes quickly focused back on Batman. There was a calculating sort of intelligence behind those eyes. 
That was one question immediately answered, but it was one he could have inferred. It was very hard to believe the claim that this “ghost” was non-sentient, when he specifically targeted the bases of a specific government agency and nothing else. Though of course they could have had something that attracted the ghost, but nobody could look at Phantom and think non sentient. 
Now the question was, why?
Bruce sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of the table from Phantom. Clark had a moment’s pause before he joined them. Bruce pulled out a tablet from underneath his cape and laid it carefully out on the table, turning it on. At this point most people in the room with the Batman would have started getting nervous, but evidently not Phantom. He was still just passively defiant, not to mention he hadn’t yet said a word.
“Phantom, is that your preferred manner of address?” Bruce decided to start out neutral. 
There was a glitter of amusement in green eyes and the barest uptick of his lips, but he remained silent. Bruce could do silence. 
The silence stretched between them until Clark broke it.
“Why do you destroy those bases?”
Phantom glanced to Clark and his earnest question, then back to Bruce, barely raising an eyebrow, like as if to say “really, this the best you can do?” Bruce resisted the urge to sigh. Clark was usually a better foil for him at interrogations, but then most people didn’t choose total silence.
Bruce decided to be frank with him.
“We are trying to understand your motivation. That’s all.” He studied Phantom’s face which had settled into a stony glare. “But first I’d just like to know if it’s alright to call you Phantom and what your pronouns are? We have been using he/him based on your appearance but you might have another preference?”
The glare softened a bit and for a moment Bruce actually thought he’d lured a response out of him, but Phantom just looked away. Incidentally drawing attention to the line at his throat. A sudden thought occurred to him.
“Are you so hurt, that you’re unable to speak?”
Phantom slowly looked back at him. He seemed to actually be contemplating giving some sort of answer.
That’s when his comm clicked on barely audible.
“The GIW has been in contact,” Diana informed him quietly over the comms. Phantom stiffened across from him, his gaze narrowing like a cat - so they could add enhanced hearing to his powers. “They are requesting we hand over Phantom.”
Bruce looked straight at Phantom as he spoke, “They have no jurisdiction in space. I presume you declined?”
“Of course.”
Phantom’s face turned unreadable for a moment. His gaze went from him, to Superman and the opaque glass that hid the observation room. Finally he huffed. 
“Phantom, he/him is fine.” His voice had an echoey quality to it. 
It seemed they were finally going somewhere. 
-
They were not going somewhere. 
Even hours later Phantom kept up his silence. They’d held several breaks. Phantom had been offered food and water but had declined nonverbally. 
They were going in circles, trying the same questions again and again. Prolonged silence didn’t help any either. 
If only J’onn was an option, but he was already suffering from psychic backlash from trying to go into Phantom’s mind during the fight. 
So far the only things Bruce could add to the certain facts were that Phantom was sentient, intelligent and didn’t like the GIW to the point that he would commit mass murder to take them down. 
And Bruce would just really like to know why? Because with the kinds of powers he’d shown off he could have easily killed the members of the Justice League sent to apprehend him. He seemed to have no qualms about killing, yet he’d stayed his hands?
Bruce had hoped that meant Phantom considered them at least somewhat neutral in this conflict. But apparently not neutral enough to talk to. 
Clark had tried and Diana had tried. Nothing helped. 
Bruce was considering his options, when the door opened. 
“B, I need to speak with you.” That was Tim, he looked pale. Something had happened. Bruce got up, Clark following. Bruce decidedly ignored the sudden curiosity from Phantom. They closed the door and walked down the hall. When Bruce felt they were far enough from Phantom he stopped.
“Red Robin, report.”
“We’ve lost contact with Hood.”
Bruce’s heart dropped cold into his stomach. No. It couldn’t be. 
“When?”
“Two hours ago is when he last checked in. He’s since missed several check-ins.” Tim’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Could be he’s just not in a position to respond, or they have scramblers in the base.”
It was likely, in fact very likely that was the case with how secretive the GIW were being, but two hours were a long time to miss check-ins. Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder which he only now realized how tense was, but no, now was not the time to relax or calm down. He shrugged Clark’s hand off and stalked back down the hall.
The GIW were mum about any details. There was only one person who could tell them what Jason was facing in that building.
He burst into the interrogation room and slammed his hands on the table. That got Phantom’s attention his eyes widening before narrowing and his lips splitting in a snarl that showed off fangs, but Bruce sneered right back.
“We lost contact with an agent sent to infiltrate a GIW-base, you will tell me what you know about them, or so help me I will make you wish you stayed in that dimension you came from.”
“Batman, please, maybe you should step out-“ Clark began good hand hovering shy of Bruce, but he was interrupted by the bark of laughter coming from Phantom.
And then he laughed and laughed and laughed. 
Bruce punched him. Clark pulled him back. 
Phantom slowly turned his head back to look at them, working his jaw. 
“There we have it after all. Your true colors: attacking a chained up captive.” He wiggled his fingers drawing attention to the wide thick cuffs dwarfing his wrists. His eyes held only cold judgment. “But don’t worry, Batman, your agent has nothing to fear from the GIW unless they are dead.”
Bruce couldn’t help the flinch and he felt Clark do the same. Something in the very air stilled then, making it hard to breathe. 
“You,” Phantom began standing up, right out of the restraints as if they weren’t there, “are going to explain to me what that reaction means…“ He carefully put his hands down on the table and leaned forward in a way that made it very apparent he was holding himself back. He glared holes into Bruce’s skull with blazing green eyes. “Unless you want your agent back in pieces.”
-
Psssst. this is actually the beginning of the fic where this is from (CW: relatively graphic aftermath of vivisection)
So basically Phantom is public enemy number one, or at least top of the US government and GIW's shit list XD Huh, "Wanted: Dead or Alive", might actually be a pretty fun title, what do you guys think?
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houseofpsychoticwomxn · 2 months ago
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⋰ ⋱✮ minors dni — suggestive ✮ ⋰ ⋱
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♡ notes; been thinking about davids clark since the trailer — movie not out until july be damned, i had to write something
⋰ ⋱✮
Clark Kent is easily amused, throwing on a little red lace was more than enough to get a blushed reaction out of him, happily crawling into his lap as soon as his laptop was out of the way.
Superman is harder to read, harder to get ahold of. the second he was in the suit he gained a determination even the passionate, mild-mannered journalist couldn’t grasp.
Of course it didn’t usually make much difference to you, only really seeing the superhero side of him on a screen or in the paper the next day, but it was intriguing. call it curiosity, fantasy, greed even — you couldn’t help but wonder if that side of the man you cared so deeply for was doing more than just protecting you. what if he was holding something back?
you worked up the courage to say something about it when the familiar headline came across the tv; Superman saves! he looked as charming as ever, smiling and waving at the crowd of cameras and heads surrounding him. he was looking right at the camera intentionally, like he was looking right at you.
the blue and red covering him accompanied by the still somehow well-kept hair looked better every time you saw it. the reporters lucky enough to be there were going on and on about how incredible it was but truthfully it was hard to pay attention. the lack of breathlessness, the way he played it off as not a big deal like he didn’t just save the city again, the size of him towering over everyone else, all of it had you completely dazed.
you were all over him as soon as he stepped through the door, standing up on your toes to reach him for a kiss.
“hello to you, too.” a big hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you away from your impromptu attack on his own, tilting his head at you when you frowned in protest.
“I’m all sweaty and gross, let me take my suit off first, alright? then you can kiss me as much as you want. promise.” he punctuated his words with a kiss on your head, unnecessarily picking you up for just a second to move you out of the way before you tugged his wrist to stop him.
“wait, I actually- kinda wanted to talk to you about that.” you let go of his wrist as quickly as you’d grabbed it, anxiously clasping your hands together as he turned back towards you.
“about..?”
“that.” you pointed to his suit like it was obvious, nervously looking up at him.
“my suit? what about it?” you nodded, collecting the words in your head that seemed much more rational when he wasn’t standing over you.
“i think you should keep it on.” he didn’t seem to quite understand what you were getting at, large hand moving over his face in thought as you searched for a way to say it without flat out begging him to keep the suit on and bend you over.
“keep it on.. for you? like, here?” he looked around your shared apartment, eyes wandering over the living room like he was looking for clues until he got back to you, dancing around your words.
“just for a second? you’re always so.. i dunno, different, when you have it on.” you were speaking to him like you’d just gotten together this morning, your eyes stuck on the way the fabric shaped his arms.
“yeah, that’s sorta the point, honey. that’s just to protect my identity, to protect you.” he crossed his arms when he noticed the direction of your pointed gaze, daring you to say just what you meant.
“i know, but don’t you think that’s still you? like that’s just some deeper part of you?” it was glaringly obvious that you really just wanted him to throw you around a little bit — rough you up for the sake of your own filthy desires, but he wanted to give you time to rethink it, and just as bad, he wanted to hear you say it.
“what are you asking?” he stepped closer to you, boots not yet discarded by the door creaking the hard wood floor under them.
“i want to see it. to feel it- that part of you, i mean. i just.. don’t want you to feel like you have to hold anything back from me, clark.”
“sweetheart. that’s real nice but-“ he was trying to avoid the obvious; he didn’t want to really hurt you. it was hard enough avoiding deep bruises from his hard to manage strength just being clark, letting go completely seems almost irrational.
“you’re a lot stronger than me, i know. i can handle it. let me show you, please?” you took his steady hand, your own shakier than you’d like to admit — but you weren’t scared. you’d thought about it for so long it just excited you, clark was always so gentle and sweet with you — and you loved it! but he’d also do just about anything you set your pretty little mind on, and this was no exception.
“that’s really what you want?” he was just about as close as he could get now, listening intently to your heartbeat speeding up as his hands closed around your waist.
“please.”
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deansbeer · 2 months ago
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★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.
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synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.
warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.
kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33
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it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.
still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.
"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."
you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."
it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.
he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."
you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.
when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.
you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.
"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"
you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"
he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."
"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.
half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.
"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"
you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.
then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.
you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.
your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.
he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.
"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."
his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.
"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."
and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.
"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."
you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."
"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."
you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"
"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."
you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."
"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"
you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.
"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."
"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."
he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"
"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."
"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"
you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.
"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.
"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.
he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"
"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.
you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.
and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.
⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧
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dulcescorderitas · 2 months ago
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𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 C.Kent
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author's note: im going to start put warnings on my posts!
warnings: 18+, smut
the fortress of solitude felt colder than usual, though clark wasn’t sure if it was the endless arctic winds or the icy glares you’d been shooting his way since he brought you here. your normally warm, witty demeanor was gone, replaced by a biting edge that he didn’t recognize and definitely didn’t appreciate.
“this is the best you’ve got, boy scout?” you sneered, your arms crossed over your chest. “you fly me to your crystal igloo because what—your big alien brain couldn’t figure out how to handle this on your own?”
clark sighed, his patience wearing thin. “you’re not yourself,” he said, his voice measured but firm. “whatever infected you is messing with your emotions. i’m trying to help you, but you’re making it pretty damn difficult.”
“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “you don’t like that i’m not worshipping you like the rest of metropolis? guess what, superman—you’re not as perfect as you think you are.”
the venom in your words stung, but clark kept his composure. he’d seen you infected before—by kryptonite, mind control, even magic—but this was different. you weren’t just angry. you were downright mean, and it was getting under his skin in a way that made him both frustrated and... unsettled.
his gaze flicked over your body, searching for any physical signs of the infection. your skin glowed faintly, a sheen of sweat catching the fortress’s cool light. the labored rise and fall of your chest was rhythmic but heavy, as if your body was fighting itself from the inside out.
“i need to run a scan,” clark said, his voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside him.
“oh, do you?” you snapped, stepping closer, your lips curling into a smirk. “go ahead, scan away, mr. perfect. maybe you’ll find out i’m too much woman for you to handle.”
his jaw tightened, but he forced himself to ignore your taunts. he guided you toward the kryptonian scanner, his large hands surprisingly gentle despite the tension. you didn’t resist, but you made it clear you weren’t going to make things easy.
“you know,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “maybe i don’t want to be cured. maybe i like feeling this free, this... wild. ever think of that, farm boy?”
clark stepped back, trying to ignore the way your tone sent an unexpected jolt through him. his fingers moved over the console as the scanner activated, its blue light bathing you in an otherworldly glow.
“there,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as the screen displayed the results. a foreign substance, glowing faintly red, was coursing through your bloodstream. it wasn’t kryptonite, but it was definitely kryptonian in origin.
“whatever it is, it’s amplifying your emotions,” clark said, his voice calm but firm. “we need to purge it from your system.”
“oh, yeah? and how exactly do you plan to do that?” you challenged, stepping closer, your breath brushing against his cheek. “gonna lecture it out of me? because that’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? being a self-righteous boy scout?”
his patience snapped, but instead of retreating, he leaned in, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “you want to know how i’m going to get it out of you?” his voice dropped, his usual warmth replaced by something darker, more commanding. “i’m going to use every bit of strength i have to break its hold on you. and when i’m done, you’re going to remember exactly who you are.”
your smirk faltered, but only for a moment. “big talk for someone who can’t handle a little attitude,” you shot back, though your voice wavered.
clark didn’t respond. instead, he closed the distance between you in an instant, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against one of the fortress’s crystalline walls. his touch was firm but not rough, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke.
“this isn’t you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “but if this is what it takes to bring you back, then so be it.”
his words sent a shiver down your spine, your defiance faltering for the first time. before you could muster another snarky remark, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, and relentless. he kissed you like he was trying to break the infection’s hold with sheer force, his tongue parting your lips to claim you completely.
you gasped into his mouth, the fiery anger in your veins starting to twist, morph, into something just as hot but far more desperate. his hands moved with purpose, sliding down your body to grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against the wall.
“clark—” your voice wavered, caught between a plea and a growl.
“trust me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost commanding.
his hands slid between your thighs, spreading them wide as his fingers found the slick heat pooling there. he didn’t hesitate, his touch firm and deliberate, his fingers stroking over your clit with a precision that made your head fall back against the crystal wall.
your body betrayed you, hips bucking against his hand as his touch grew more insistent. his thumb circled your clit while his fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside with maddening skill.
“you’re fighting it,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers curled inside you, pressing against a spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body. “don’t. let go.”
your hands clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric of his suit as he worked you with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, the rhythm of his movements building a pressure inside you that felt impossible to contain.
“clark, i—” your voice broke, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
“let it out,” he commanded, his voice steady, unwavering. “all of it.”
and then it happened. the pressure inside you shattered, a blinding wave of release that ripped through your body, leaving you trembling in his arms. your vision blurred, your cries echoing through the fortress as your body convulsed, slick heat spilling onto his hand as he coaxed every last drop from you.
“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost soothing. his fingers slowed, drawing out your release until you were spent, your body sagging against him.
the red glow in your eyes faded, replaced by the warmth and softness he knew so well. as you came back to yourself, clark held you close, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“you’re okay,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “i’ve got you.”
you looked up at him, your cheeks flushed, your lips trembling. “clark... i—”
“don’t,” he interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve been through enough. just let me take care of you.”
and for once, you did.
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