#gosh i need 2 make tags

[tittysuckersworld]

i may be.... a little...... just a lil into willy..........................

[javierduffy]

MIV’s (mentally-ill-vaquero)s latest post on how javier has religious trauma has got me thinking …. with javier’s internalized dynamic of saviorship and worship and God and Man … there’s actually some parallels between his (history with) religion and the way he deifies and glorifies dutch and is so entrapped in dutch’s indoctrination. he’s already susceptible to manipulation because of the cultural differences and the way that dutch has intentionally positioned himself to force javier to rely on him for his literal survival, but i think his history with religion further bolsters his susceptibility to indoctrination and manipulation, and his fear of god bleeds over into his fear of dutch, who seems to have a similar hold on javier’s mortal soul. and the way that javier feels that he CANNOT leave the gang, and the way that he CANNOT doubt dutch (and when he does, he repents, by “proving” his loyalty, unquestioningly. he fears dutch’s wrath, and so he falls in line when he is confronted with it, even just a little bit.), it’s just like how many (and even dare i say javier himself) fear leaving their religion, and fear doubting god, for the intimidation of losing His mercy, and what that means for them. his relationship with religion, and with the way religion itself (especially catholicism and christianity) FORCES most people to stay out of the sheer fear of going to hell and experiencing the suffering of eternal damnation, i believe, influences his dynamic with the entire world, ESPECIALLY images of power, like dutch. god scares javier into confusion and anger and resentment, but most of all into submission and repentance, and, just the same, dutch does too.

but also, both of javier’s gods contradict each other. dutch asks him to kill, and god asks he repent for his killing. javier escuella, poor man, cannot escape a life of maddening confusion. no wonder he ends up as an angry, empty, hateful husk of a man in the end.

[tigersharkapologist]

Caracalla was, understandably, simply having a mental attack because the people were calling for their heads—but I like the little detail that Caracalla literally cannot think of one bad thing his brother did to him other than “trying to strangle him in the womb” lol. Which implies that Geta was that good of a brother to him.

_______________________________________________

bonus because I think there’s way more to it than just being Ha Ha Funny Gag to Lighten Tension and because I have a hyperanalyzation for hyperfixations problem:

TW: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, child abuse, bullying and murder

That or the darker undertone being that he cannot remember anything bad Geta did because of his memory loss from neurosyphilis (a disease that can cause memory loss). Which also implies that he probably doesn’t remember any of the crude specifics of the abuse they had to undergo in their childhood—only how it made him feel. Which is why, if you look really closely at his facial expressions during his episode, he hesitated only a little at the mention of that, but still didn’t falter entirely.

An even darker undertone being that he was experiencing so much of a specific kind of stress that his brain assumed it was being attacked by the same assailant that he had dealt with as a kid, Septimius Severus. So much so that it went into fight or flight. Caracalla was shouting “you lie!! You always lie!!” at his brother. From what we can tell with the little screentime we got of them, Geta has never shown to have any malicious intentions towards his brother, he had quite the opposite actually. He never lied to him. Like ever. But you know who probably DID lie to them constantly?

Their. Despicable. Sleazebag. Narcissistic. No show. Parents.

What if the neurosyphilis combined with the onslaught of the immense stress he was experiencing (so much so that it threw him into a fight response) made him believe Geta was Septimius? Think about it. Caracalla is under the full influence of an injured brain, and that same brain is being influenced by a hyper aggressive disease; neurosyphilis. What if he was so affected by the lies told to him in his childhood, that the minute he figures out something is a lie, or suspects of lying, it causes him to snap. Look at how he got with Acacius when he found out that his loyalty was basically a lie.

Lies cause him that much stress, they have to be connected with abuse. Look at him!! Lies are definitely his PTSD trigger.

Roping it back to Geta’s death. ,, Caracalla’s amnesia and panic response from his PTSD very well could have made him confuse Geta with their father. Though not all, it is not unheard of that survivors of immense physical abuse (in Caracalla’s case—being constantly punched and beaten up by a grown man when he was like?? 10??) attack someone close who they’ve confused with their abuser when an episode strikes. (keep in mind these are rarer cases but Caracalla is a rare and extreme case himself). It could be a huge possibility that Caracalla mistook Geta as their father and, he (understandably sick of Geta standing in between his father and taking those blows for him) decided to take his father head on and strike back—ultimately killing who his brain confused as Septimius. Another reason I believe this is because he literally reverted back to childlike tendencies and hid under the table when he felt this stress. Trembling, crying, whimpering, a very sore sight. It was as if he was taken back to the time where he felt this kind of fear before-- because that's literally what happened. I genuinely do not think Caracalla would ever kill Geta, his brother, his closest and only real friend. Even if he wasn’t in his right mind. Those two have lived through hell together, those trauma bonds are the strongest bonds Ive ever seen. They could fight, they could get real disgusting towards eachother, but I know nothing could break that sibling trauma bond, and I speak from experience. You could hate that man but he will always be your ride or die. Geta and Caracalla were TIGHT. He had to have confused him with his father during his PTSD episode. I highly doubt thats what the directors were going for but UHH idc lol that's what aus are for.

I want to know more about Septimius Severus. Was it just beating up his kids? I'm not undermining the grotesqueness of those actions, I want to know what else he did. It was clear he was a liar, it was clear he was a physically abusive "father” (he doesn't even deserve that title), but if it was so easy for him to hit his kids, than that opens up a whole new possibility of things he did. Like if it was so easy for him to punch a child, what else was easy for him? Did he refuse to feed them? Did he refuse to give them any gifts or luxuries? Is that why the twins are overindulgent to the point they suffer from it? Did he lock them out of the house to freeze in order to assert dominance? Did he publicly shame them as punishment? Did he shame them for the way they looked? How they were an embarrassment to the family name because of their appearance being too similar to the barbaric northern tribes they were conquering? Were plates thrown at them? Were they bullied by other children in their age group for having unloving parents? Did anyone worry for them? Did any bystander care? Did anyone ever intervene? Did they cower in fear of facing that same wrath that those children were forced to endure? What was the twins reaction to the death of their father? Were they overjoyed? Were they hollow? Were they, in a twist, mournful? Did they ever have real friends? Like friends that they didn't need to change themselves to feel accepted?

_____________________________________________

To pivot off that last sentence (not really related to the main point at all but I NEED to say it),

I don’t think so on that last one. I think they had to change themselves entirely and put on this fake persona in fear of being disliked. They did everything to follow the Patrician crowd, everything that made their lives even worse. And I bet you they thought they were making friends.

Nah. They were making temporary fragile alliances. For every 10 “friends” they’d make, 1000 enemies would be formed. And I bet you further that the Patrician didn’t respect them at all. Those blue bloods know when there’s blood in the water and they know that the two changed and rewired themselves just for acceptance. In their eyes, Caracalla and Geta are weak emperors (unfortunately they are. Conquesting counts do not equal to strength in oneself); easily replaced. And if Macrinus was thinking it, you can count on the rest of them, too. Remember in that deleted scene where Caracalla forgot he killed his brother? EVERYBODY knew about the murder but him and NOBODY batted an eye. Either they were scared of Macrinus (which I doubt they even knew he was apart of said murder) or they DEAD AHH DID NOT CARE ABOUT GETA LIKE AT ALL. THEY DIDNT LOOK EVEN SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE BRO 😭🙏. It was the SENATORS. SENATORS. That looked shocked. They weren’t even going to say “ave Dondas” out of pure shock until Macrinus said it first to pressure them.

Enough of my prattling. In conclusion, Caracalla is so far off the deep end he literally thought his own brother was his father DURING the height of his episode let me be clear (which isnt really the biggest stretch to be dead honest—it’s caracalla bless him my poor baby), is pretty much permanently ruined and scarred because nobody is going to help him—no one cared enough, and he is never EVER going to live a normal happy life. Geta tried so, so very hard to give him that, but in the end, the two were born hated, born broken, and the world reminded them that until both of their untimely ends.

[solariex]

yeahh uh who wants to know how my break from the red blog is ?? basically this

alsoo bonus because i thought it was funny LMAOO

(also also if both look like red avm its cause im a red fictive (but i also go by marz) who ironically runs the blog woww plural system stuff i bet i havent said that 50 times by nowwww—💥💥💥)

[mister-ancunin]

luvvviieee 🫶 here to gift you a laced wicker hamper filled with freshly plucked mangoes straight from me and maui's garden 💌🧺🥭 hope youre doing well thus far !! any hobie thoughts tonight ? mwehehe :3c

roseeeee !!! 🫶🏽 wuahhh all the mangos you gave…im drowning..,,, sincerest thanks to u n maui’s wonderful garden ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა i will happily indulge myself in them mhm mhm .. n i am doing good indeed !!! lotsss of lectures but my profs are v entertaining heuheu ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა + there are SO many hobie thoughts in my head ,,, 24/7/365…. ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა but nonetheless I will sit on the counter and enjoy ur mangos mhm ᢉ𐭩 im sure he’d stand w me n snatch a couple too . it gets so messy lmao …. ive talked abt it before but he’s a big fan of stealing kisses 2 taste the mangos on my lips wuah ,, in shambles orz,,,,

[gwydionae]

SAY IT WITH ME:

FEMALE CHARACTERS CAN BE WARRIORS AND FEMININE

MALE CHARACTERS CAN BE SMART AND MASCULINE

BEING BOTH IS NOT A "FLAW" WHERE ONE NEEDS TO BE REMOVED

IT'S CALLED "COMPLEXITY"

[nishirikies]

(=｀ェ´=) ₊ ⊹ 박셍훈 x f!reader ៸៸ ⩇⩇

✦   ˚     Tags   🗯️ .  ჰ boxer!sunghoon opponent's sister!reader use of baby, beautiful (f rec.) hoon, hoonie (m rec.) degradation praise rough sex victory sex spanking oral (f rec.) teasing hair pulling doggy position descent position catapult position mating press missionary wall sex exhibition public sex (kinda) secret relationship mentions of Jay unprotected p in v unsafe sex creampie Sunghoon throws reader around a bit hinting towards possesive Sunghoon bc... he's so sexy (つ﹏<)･ﾟ｡5.3k words not proof read

Every year, it’s the same fight between the same two people. Your brother, Jay Park, and Sunghoon park. For the past three years in a row, they’ve made it to the finals. It’s currently 2 to 1, Jay taking the advantage.

Not this year, though. This year, Sunghoon has something to look forward to, the sweet taste of your pussy. The pair train in the same gym, and sometimes, you would follow along, Jay forcing you to work on your endurance and strength with him, even if you absolutely hated it. 

Weeks prior to the final fight, in the early hours of the morning, you made your way to the locker rooms to grab your brother a spare water bottle. When suddenly, your back was pushed against the cold metal of the locker, a broad figure pushing against you. 

“Hey!” You shout, hands bracing against the man's shoulders before realising who it was. Your expression became guarded, lips pursing together as your brother's greatest opponent stood before you. “Sunghoon–”

He shushes you, quietly, shaking his head as his hands rub up and down your waist. “I’m not going to do anything,” He murmurs, lifting his hands to grab your wrists, bringing your hands back down to your sides, slowly. “I’m here to make a deal with you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, hands flexing against the hold he has on your wrists, pulling his hands away in annoyance and disgust. “I’m not making any deal with you. If you think I’m going to let you rig the fight, then you’re the biggest dickward I’ve ever spoken to,” You shoot back, glaring at him in pure annoyance. 

“I’m not going to ask you to rig the fight,silly,” He muses, one of his large hands coming up to pinch your cheeks together, mocking a pout as he shakes your head from side to side, “I’m just here to ask about when I win.”

“You’re not going to win,” You bite, grabbing at his wrist and pulling him away. 

“Stop talking, gosh, you're a nuisance,” He groans, rolling his eyes, squeezing your cheeks before pulling his hand away. “Look, if I win, which I will… I get to have you. For one night. That’s all. No one needs to know, Jay’s not going to know, the media isn’t going to know, just me and you.”

Your annoyed glare turns into one of confusion and surprise. One night with you. You and Sunghoon are alone together, for a singular night. You feel your cheeks heat up at the thought and you glance away, keeping that guarded and annoyed expression on your features. 

“It’s not a date,” he quickly says, knowing that you’ll definitely say no. His hands come to your waist, cupping your sides perfectly like a puzzle piece and taking a step closer. His head dips down, trailing his lips against the side of your neck and the bare skin of your shoulder. “Just me and you,” he whispers, one of his hands coming up to fiddle with the strap of your sports bra, “And the sweet taste of that pussy. Yeah? How does that sound?”

The proximity and his gravelly voice drives you insane, feeling a heat in your stomach fluttering lower to the fabric of your underwear. Your hands brace against the locker behind you, your breath stuttering quietly as you turn your head to face him. You can’t lie, the idea sounds extremely tempting. And if he won, then it would be a tie between the pair… 

Biting your lower lip, you roll your eyes and look away, “Fine,” you grumble, hands grabbing a hold of his wrists and pulling them away from your body, noticing the way he easily allows you to move, “Only if you win the fight. Other than that, nothing. Don’t ask me again and don’t hit me up after the night.” 

The smirk that forms on his face is one to make your knees weak and you become unsure whether it’s going to be the best or worst decision that you’ve made in your life. 

The night of the fight, you were on the edge of your seat the whole time, watching the way that Jay and Sunghoon present themselves so proudly in the ring. Their skills and their looks caused uproars in the crowd, dividing the large group of people. You could hear the way the different groups of fans chant your brother and his opponents name. At this point of time, you can’t even be bothered to think about Sunghoon, you just want your brother to win. 

An hour later, you're watching the deciding round of the night. Both Jay and Sunghoon have won a round each, now you’re watching the two bloodied men stand face to face for the last time of the night. 3 minutes for Jay to win, 3 minutes for him to hit the final blow but Sunghoon just won't give up. Desperate Asshole. 

After three excruciating minutes of watching the pair fight, the winner was decided. And it was not your brother. 

You sit angrily in your seat, glaring at the man filled with pride as he holds up his winning belt, motioning for the crowd to create more sounds of luxury as he basks in the glory. At some point, while you’re standing with Jay, handing him a towel and a tissue for his nose while his team assesses him out, you glance back at the ring, eye contact being made as he leans cockily against the rope, peering down at you with a determined expression. He points to himself and mouths these six words to you, ‘meet me at my locker room.’ 

His prize awaits.

An hour and a half later, you’re stepping out of Sunghoons car, his hand immediately finding its way to your lower back as he guides you up the steps towards his house, his broad figure crowding your back as he unlocks the door to his penthouse. 

“Make yourself at home, beautiful,” he murmurs in your ear, biting your earlobe as he ushers you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. You stand there dumbfounded as he strips himself of his jacket and shoes, acting like this isn’t an arrangement. When he notices you haven’t moved, he glances over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’re just going to stand there and do nothing?”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning on one him and knitting your brows together, your tone full of accusation and confusion. “You said that when you win, you are going to take me. Yet, here you are, acting like we came home from a date. What’s your deal?”

He scoffs, turning to face you, stepping closer and invading your personal space once more. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he teases, cupping your face and towering over you, “I didn’t realise I couldn’t relax after, you know, winning. You should’ve seen the look on your brother’s face when he realised I won, I really hope someone got a photo of it. I think I’m going to frame it up on my wall somewhere.”

“Stop,” you grumble, rolling your eyes as he recalls the memory of your siblings' loss, “I get it, you won. What a great deal for you. Now, hurry up before I call my brother to take me home. I doubt he’s going to be very happy with the arrangement we’ve got.”

You see his eyes narrowing in disdain, the thought of your brother coming to his house and taking you away from him. He shakes his head, letting out a scoff and gripping onto your hips, pulling you closer so your bodies are pressed against each other. You gasp at the sudden roughness, gripping a hold of his shoulders and glaring up at him. “You’re already here, why think about leaving, hm?” He whispers, leaning in and dipping his head into the crook of your neck. Your senses react to the feel of his hot breath against the skin of your neck, his hands digging into your sides, his broad body pushing you against the door. 

He presses his lips against your neck, humming at the sweet scent of your perfume against his nostrils. His hands rub up and down your sides, catching onto the fabric of your jacket, his hands reaching up to pull it off your body. “Get comfortable.” 

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, helping him slide the jacket off your body, slipping your shoes off and kicking them to the side. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“Don’t test me. Hurry up.” 

He lifts his head up, staring down at you, the teasing expression gone from his face as he lifts a hand up to hold onto your chin. He watches you, as if examining you, his body straightening up. “Fine,” he murmurs, pulling you away from the door and roughly turning you to the stairs. “Third room to the left. I want you stripped by the time I get there. Go.” He smacks your ass and pushes you, urging your body to the steps. 

You glance over your shoulders to shoot him a glare but he’s disappeared into the other room. You scoff, heading up the stairs and keeping your features hardened. This definitely could be going better and you pray he’s as good in bed as he is in the ring. 

When you finally reach his bedroom, its features are lit up by the warmth of lights around the space. His bed, crisp white and grey sheets, faces the window where a view of Seoul's skyline can be seen from the balcony. To the left of the space is an extendable tv, a small couch sits across from it. 

You take time to scan the bedroom, staring in awe at how neatly everything is placed, like it’s for show, not lived in. It’s insane. 

You make your way to the front of the bed, staring out at the view for a moment before starting to strip yourself of the clothing that you’ve been wearing all night. You keep your undergarments on, a matching lace set for just in case Sunghoon did win. The base colour was base pink, the thongs and the top lace of the bra a darker pink placed into an array of beautiful flowers. 

You fold the clothes, placing them down on the chair near the tv and moving forward to stare out at the view while waiting for Sunghoon who is still nowhere to be seen. 

After what feels like forever, the door finally opens and Sunghoon walks in, a towel folded over his forearm and two water bottles in his hand. When he lifts his head to see you, his movements slow down, like he’s stuck in time. He shuts the door behind him quietly, a small smirk on his face as he walks towards you. He throws the materials on the bed and stalks over to you, snickering to himself. “Wow, you’ve out done yourself,” He says, voice an octave deeper than before. 

“You needed fifteen minutes to grab a towel and water bottles?” you snarkily reply, turning towards him and allowing him to grab a hold of your waist once more. He walks you backwards till you’re pressed against the glass windows, staring down at you like you’re prey. 

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful, anything that I had in mind has gone out the window after seeing you like this,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your neck. His large hand grabs your chin, pushing your head up to gain more access to your skin. His kisses become harsher, starting to bite and lick at your skin as he slowly descends. 

The warmth of his body against the cold window is addicting, the difference in temperature is overpowering and the way his hands roam and grope at your skin has your head tilting back, eyes closing as you feel the way he explores you. Taking in everything about you, your reactions, the softness of your skin, the way the soft scent of vanilla perfume becomes stronger the lower he goes. 

“Fuck” he curses, opening your legs, breathing over your mound and gripping a hold of your leg to throw over his shoulder, gaining better access to your dripping centre. He drags his nose over the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses for it. His hand runs up and down the skin of your thigh, gentle and soft. His other hand reaches behind you to grab onto your ass, squeezing tightly and making you gasp. “You’re addicting.”

Your hand reaches down to rest in his hair, trying to guide him where you need him before he pulls it away, resting it against the class behind you. “Hoon–”

“Don’t. No touching. This isn’t about you.” He gruffs, looking up at you between your legs and you think this has to be the best view of the night, the way he’s on his knees, hair in front of his face and your leg thrown over his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths before nodding your head, bracing your hands against the glass and staring down at him with anticipation. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your thigh softly, pressing soft kisses up your thigh and towards the edge of your thong. The hand grasping your behind trails around and gently hooks the bottom of the fabric, moving it to the side and gaining a clear view of your slick ridden pussy. He groans at the sight, eyebrows knitting together as he leans in, his hot breath fanning against your core. “Look at this pussy, so wet… dripping,” he states, eyes drawing upwards towards your face. He watches the way you squirm above him, your stomach twitching as you control your breathing in anticipation, “Is this for me? Wet for me?”

You nod your head, eagerly, praying that it gets him closer to giving you pleasure. Your tone comes out light and breathy, “Yeah… because of you.”

The smirk that forms on his face increases that hot fluttering and you feel your knees go weak. “Yeah, I know, baby,” he whispers, leaning in finally and licking a long strip between your folds. His eyes close at the taste and his arms tighten around your thighs, groaning against your mound and hollowing his lips around your clit. 

You immediately let out a soft whimper of relief, your head hanging down as you watch him before deciding to continue the feeling of him below you. You tilt your head back as he moves closer, kneeling right underneath you and sitting you on top of his face. “Wait,” you breathe, nervous about the position, “Your neck–”

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful,” He grunts, rolling his eyes and fixing the position. Your legs threw over his shoulder and pulled your lower half away from the wall. “I hope you’ve got good core strength.”

He goes back to devouring your cunt, eyes closed as he enjoys the taste of your sweet juice dripping for him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his ministrations, the way he immediately has you filled with pleasure is truly something you didn’t expect from the way he was drawing it out earlier. Your moans immediately fill the space, mixing with his as he groans against your pussy. 

“Fuck, Hoon,” you gasp, grinding down against his face, your hands planted against the wall behind you as you try not to go wild, the pleasure becoming stronger as a coil tightens in your lower stomach. 

“Yeah, beautiful,” he groans, flicking his tongue into your dripping hole as he sucks against your clit, the skillful moves making you twitch against him. “Grind against me like that, use my face. Want your juices everywhere.’

The words go straight to your pussy, grinding down harder against him as you feel your hardened nipples scratch against your bra, causing the achiness to grow. Your nails dig into the wall behind you, the pleasure overwhelming. 

You whine his name, face scrunched together as you let the moans spill from your lips freely, fist punching the wall as you gasp. “Cum– fuck, ‘m cumming–!” You moan, feeling the coil snap at an exceptionally hard suck. 

He helps you ride out your orgasm, keeping his tongue flat out for you to use and mumbling incoherent words into your slick pearl. His hands come up, holding onto your waist to stop you from moving and he continues to lap at you for a few more minutes before finally letting his lips go from around your clit. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your thighs and rubbing his hands up and down your torso as you take deep breaths, calming yourself down. “That’s it, calm down,” he whispers, placing your legs back down to the floor and slowly standing, continuing the worship of your body with his plump lips. 

You let your hands drop from the wall, wrapping around his neck to help steady yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding your body close to his. “Wow,” you giggle, smiling as you stare up at him, breathing still heavy, “Didn’t expect you to be that good.”

He raises an eyebrow, humming sarcastically as if he knows that he’s that good. Cocky bastard, you think, watching as he leans in. “You have such low standards if you think that’s good,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours softly, continuing to speak against your lips, “I’d hate to know who slept with you prior and couldn’t make you cum.”

“I never said that,” you whisper, shaking your head and leaning in to press another kiss to his lips, pulling back teasingly with a smile, “What else can you do then? Or is it only your tongue that’s got skills?”

He chuckles against your lips, gripping you by your thighs and lifting you up, pressing you further against him. “I guess I’m just going to have to show you, then, huh?” he whispers, grinding your hips down against his, making you feel his bulge straining against his sweats. “Feel that?”

You bite down on your lower lip at the feel of his sweats, staring down at the way a wet patch is left by your slick, furrowing your brows together. “Shit, yeah,” you nod, glancing back up at him. You can’t help but tease him, resting your forehead against his and nudging your nose against his, your lips brushing against his, “Is that for me? Eating me out got you that hard?”

“Fuck, seeing you anywhere got me hard,” He groans, one of his hands slipping down to pull down his sweats and boxers, his straining length hitting against your open cunt. He hisses, furrowing his brows as he grabs at his base, rubbing himself between your folds. “Seeing you in the gym, in those fucking leggings… the way your legs shake everytime you go on the leg press and the weights too heavy, it’s always had my mind going places. The amount of times I’ve wanted to bend you over and fuck you, to claim you, has been way too strong.”

You keep your eyes locked onto him as he rubs himself against you, feeling the way he slickens himself up. He feels fucking huge, and you feel your stomach twist with nerves at the fire burning inside you by his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you whisper. 

Before you can say anything else, he thrusts himself up into you, clenching his jaw together at how tight you are. Your mouth drops open at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening and tilting your head back against the wall. 

“Fuck… fuck, your tight,” he grits through teeth, leaning in and hiding his face in your neck. “So tight… so fucking warm too, shit. How aren’t you getting fucked everyday of your life?”

“Fuck, I get it,” you reply, keeping the snarkiness to a T as you tilt your head to face him, pulling his face up, “Maybe you should actually fuck me instead of talking shit–”

Sunghoon cuts you off with a harsh thrust into you, setting a steady pace. His hands grip your waist, bouncing you down onto his cock to meet his hips. “You talk,” he whispers into your ear, biting at your earlobe, “So much shit. I wonder how much you say when I’m not around, huh? I bet you run your mouth like a dirty whore.”

The way his cock slides in and out of you has you becoming light headed, the way his tip presses against your deepest parts has you squeezing your eyes shut and squeezing your walls around him, making you whimper. His hands move down to squeeze at your ass, giving him better leverage to fuck into you. “Yeahhh…” he groans, “That’s it, let yourself get fucked, baby. Let yourself feel it. Feel how deep I am?”

You nod your head, eyes rolling back at the feel of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls. His groans in your ear and the way he holds onto you makes your body allow itself to go limp, knowing that he’s holding your body up, his arm muscles straining against your body. 

“Fuck, like that,” You moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and biting down, the sounds of your lewd actions bouncing around the room. The strong movements of his cock pushing your gathered slick out of you, creating wet sounds, the plap plap plap sound filling your ears. Your whines become higher in pitch, fingers digging into his shoulders and potentially breaking skin. 

You feel on cloud 9, your eyes constantly fluttering shut as he continues to pound into you, abusing your cunt, when suddenly, the pleasure stops and he pulls out.

“What, dude?!” You snap, lifting your head up to look at him but he’s already changing your position. He carries you out of the room and onto the balcony, the cool air hitting your body and causing you to hiss. “Sunghoon?”

“Shh,” he shushes, dismissing your words of confusion and rearranging the furniture, pushing the love seat towards the balcony railing with his leg. He pulls you off of him, turning you around and placing your knees against the plush materials, arms braced against the railing. “Open yourself up for me… yeah, like that, arch that back.” He mutters, hand patting at your ass to usher you to move faster. 

His hands brace your hips, aligning himself back up with your entrance and pushing back into the tilt. He bends down, his clothed chest pressed against your back. One of his hands reached to brace against the railing next to yours, his head leaning into your ear. 

“Surprised you’re listening,” he whispers, biting at your neck, licking and kissing the skin, “Just want to be fucked, huh? You going to be nice and loud f’me?”

When you don’t answer, his hand holding your hip moves to the flesh of your ass, a harsh slap meeting your skin. “Answer me.” He grunts, slapping the skin once more. “Are you going to be loud? Let everyone know who’s fucking you so good?”

You whine, head tilting down and pushing back against him, “Yes,” you reply, tilting your head up to look at him over your shoulder, “I’ll be loud.”

That wicked grin greets his lips and he thrusts shallowing into you a few times, watching the way you face immediately retorts, your reaction causing him to chuckle. He straightens up, the warmth hitting your back again and he forces your head forward. “Look at the view, baby, look at how beautiful it is while I fuck you full.”

His hand slides down your back, reaching the clasp of your bra and unclipping it. He helps you take it out, marvelling in your naked arch and the way you gasp as the cold hits your nipples. He gives your ass another spank before starting to thrust, shallowly. 

A small ‘hm’s fall from your lips as he hits deep inside, the pleasure coming in small, short bursts, keeping you on edge. His pace slowly starts to pick up again, wanting to feel the way you clenched around him in wanton, creating a speed as fast as before.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, grabbing onto your hips and starting to thrust into you harder, biting his lip as his thighs meet the back of yours. “Take this dick, like a good girl.”

The way he fucks into you makes your body go limp, the only way to keep yourself up being his balcony railing. Which Sunghoon highly disapproves of.

“Watch the fucking view,” He grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head up. “Do as I say and I’ll let you cum again. I was being generous before, don’t take it for granted.”

His thrusts become more vigorous and he finds himself losing his mind in the deep, wet warmth of your walls. He uses his hold on your hair to help fuck you back into his length, slapping at your ass to encourage you to move you back against him. “That’s it. Listen to Sunghoon, baby.”

The way he spoke in third person pushed you deeper into that submissive state, the snarky comments leaving your mind, only fueled with Sunghoon. SunghoonSunghoonSunghoon. The way his thick tip brushes against your walls, feeling like he’s deeper than before is a whole new feeling of ecstasy. When he feels you becoming slack when bouncing back onto his cock, he spanks your ass, each slap becoming harder throughout time, urging you to continue. 

“Don’t get fucking lazy on me now,” he grunts, draping himself against your back, licking at your ear, laughing at the way you squirm, “Remember, this isn’t about you, is it? It’s about me. I fucking won that fight and you know it–” he punctuates his words with a deep, shallow thrust, “You know it. Bet you were praying that Jay would lose, huh? Just so I can fuck you. That’s why you’re wearing that pretty pink set, hm?”

His grip on your hair leaves, letting your head drop and you manage to find some bite into you despite the stimulated circumstances. “Do you have to mention my fucking brother when your dick is inside of me?

He cackles, right into your ear, making you wince and glare at him over your shoulder, watching the way he presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Damn,” he laughs, sitting up and pulling out, giving you another spank as he feels you gasp. “You’re funny, baby, come on. Wanna see you funny you can be when I’m fucking my cum inside of you.”

You expected him to pick you up this time, but didn’t expect to be thrown over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he walked you back inside. “Fucking love this ass,” he mutters, pressing a slopping kiss to your hip before throwing you down on the bed, “Watching it jiggle as you fucked back into me, jesus, I really wish you could have seen it. It was fucking beautiful. I’ll have to have you ride me next time.” “Next time?” You ask, lifting your body up by propping yourself on your forearms, voluntarily spreading your legs for him to accommodate him in between, wanting that full feeling back. His length was incredibly thick, slightly curved upwards, a pretty flushed colour with the tip of his cock being redder than anything else and god was it veiny. “Thought this was a one time thing?”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing at your ankles and pulling you towards him, resting your legs against his torso as he teases his tip at your entrance, biting his lip and smiling at the way your slick sticks to his length. “Changed my mind,” he breathes, slipping himself inside once more with a groan, “You feel too fucking good to let go. So tight and fuck… feels like heaven.”

He immediately sets a strong pace, bringing your legs together and bringing them to one shoulder, astonished with the way that you get somehow tighter, causing his hips to stutter and his facade to vanish momentarily before he’s leaning down. He bends you like a pretzel, keeping your legs against his shoulder, fists pressed into the mattress beside your head. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into your hard before pausing for a moment, leaning down and smothering his lips against yours, “If you think I’m letting you go after this, then you’re wrong. God, Jay’s going to be so pissed when he sees you cheering my name and inviting me for thanksgiving dinner, huh?”

“Don’t– fuck, don’t be weird,” you stutter out, his pace quickening once more, your hands reach up to grab ahold of his broad shoulders, knitting your brows at the way his shirt is still on. You know he looks like a greek god under there and there’s no point getting his dick if you can’t see his abs. Your hand trails down from his shoulder to his torso, gripping at the fabric and pulling it up. “Take it off. Off.”

He grunts, lifting back up and taking your legs off of his shoulder, spreading them apart and slapping your inner thigh before reaching his hand up behind him and slipping his shirt over his head. The sight before you has your eyes widening and jaw going slack. 

He’s ripped, absolutely ripped. His arms are even bigger, waist slim and abs defined. His lower abdomen has a few veins that trail down to his v-live and fuck. You have to ride him next time. 

Once the clothing is discarded, he wastes no more time as he grabs your thighs, fucking into you once more at that rapid pace, making you grip the bedsheets below you. God, his languid strokes and the way his hand grips hard onto your legs has your mind wandering. He’s so strong, so fit and the way he throws you around is foreplay itself. 

His cock continues to bully its way inside of you, fucking your womb and the thought itself makes you feral. Like he can read your thoughts, his hands grab your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders and bending down, placing you in a delicious mating press. 

“Oh, fuck-!” You groan, the change of position driving you up the wall and gripping onto his biceps tightly and digging your nails into his skin. Your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head and you’re struggling to stay coherent. “Hoon– Hoonie… Oh, my god, Hoonie!”

“Yeah, baby,” he groans in your ear, leaning down to press his face against your neck, sucking at your skin, “Call my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you so good. Who is it baby? Tell me.”

“It’s–” you choke out, taking in a deep breath, “It’s you– you, Hoonie! You!”

“That’s right. Good girl. Taking Hoonie’s cock so well, huh?” He coos, nipping at your skin and leaving blemishes across the skin of your neck and collarbone. “All this? Mine. It’s mine now. I deserve this. I won this.”

His words go over your head, reeling in the pleasure when it’s suddenly heightened by the way he sneaks his hand down, pinching at your click before rubbing it roughly, placing an amount of pressure that has you immediately orgasming around his cock. “Oh, fuck!” You moan, back arching at the feel of his tip punching against your womb, the feel of his fingers against your clit has your mind going overboard. “Oh, god! Oh, Sunghoon!”

The feel of your walls spasming around him, causing his orgasm to quickly follow, a few hard, shallow thrusts have him spilling inside, his eyes rolling back as he groans against your neck. 

He prolongs the moment with short thrusts, wanting to keep the feeling of your walls clenched around him forever. He wants it tattooed, a photograph, anything, it just feels so good. Nirvana. Heaven. 

He keeps himself plugged inside you as you both calm down, letting your legs down and running his hands up and down your thighs. “Going to stay the night?” He murmurs, pressing kisses from your neck up to your face, pressing against your cheeks before against his lips. 

“Yeah…” you breathe, nodding your head and leaning into the kiss, “I’ll stay.” 

✶‎ header creds: @cursed-carmine on tumblr ៸៸ ⊹

© nishirikies 2025. all rights reserved ᶻ 𝘇

[sucrelip]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Toji is so fond of his commanding wife !

tags: established relationship, you’re his wife, suggestive content, he’s down bad, Shiu cameo, fluff, crack, angst ?, he’s an asshole but you love him <\3

lipette’s note: this is a bit short, comment if you want a part 2 for the real smutty smut >:)

♡MDNI♡

Toji Fushiguro, ridiculously broad man, expression as welcoming as a closed door, could kill someone with his bare hands, is so so so pathetically in love with his very much commanding wife.

You have him right where you want him to be, wrapped around your finger ever since he put that shiny (maybe stolen) engagement ring on it.

"Fushiguro." You firmly say as you snap your fingers towards his lingering gym clothes on the floor. He groans quietly and immediately picks them up. God, he loves when you call him that…

"Why d’you let missy boss you ‘round like that..? We got work to do…" His coworker, Shiu, once asked after he heard Toji get scolded by you on the phone while out for a mission. "You jus’ don’t wanna see that woman when she gets mad." He simply answers, but Shiu swears he can see a small grin on his friend’s lips while he talks. "…S’that a fetish of yours or something…?"

You being scary when mad was mostly the reason why he let you nag him at work. Mostly. Because the main reason was that, God, it made him impossibly hard everytime.

Those sharp eyes of yours, the way you cross your arms on your chest everytime you get mad, the way you hold his jaw to make him look at you when he rolls his eyes, the way you hush him when he tries to talk back…it was all so incredibly hot to him.

He sure obeys to your every word, but once you’re done with your attitude…he snaps.

"You’re done, ma ?" he sighs after "listening" to you complain about how careless he was, how stupid and stubborn he was. "Mmyes." You mumble. "Right. Can you take off your clothes f’me now ?" Awfully straightforward…You gasp and snap back. "Gosh, were you even listening to me ?!" Toji grins and steps closer. "No." And awfully honest… He gently takes your hand and guides it right on his boner. "You’re really hot right now. I need you to take care of this." You try to look furious. But you’re not, you never really were, in the first place.

Toji is an asshole. You mean it, really. But how are you even supposed to resist when he looks at you so fondly, so lovingly, even when you yell at him ! He’s not the type to confess his love, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know. You can’t help but smile like a fool at that. It makes him scoff. "You’re weak." He teases as he lifts you up and places you on his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You don’t fight back…you don’t want to. You’re even excited !

Thank you for reading ! ♡ Don’t forget to reblog if you liked this ♡

@ sucrelip — do not use, copy, or feed to AI !

[watchingtheboys]

bed chem ౨ৎ bff!anakin skywalker MDNI 18+ tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, female reader, mentions of sex, alcohol, fluff. lmk if i should make a pt 2 of this… ♡

anakin skywalker would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about how you’d be in bed.

he feels so wrong- so creepy- for even wondering, but he can’t help it. sure, he’s seen you in your underwear, and slept in your bed, but it’s not enough.

he hasn’t seen you with your lips red and swollen, your mascara smeared and smudged, your bare body underneath his.

no. he feels like he’s betraying you by thinking about stuff like that. you’re his best friend, you’ve spent your whole lives together, and he’s sure you’ve never thought about this stuff with him…

“ani?… ani!”

your voice, sweet as ever, snaps him out of deep thought. you’re sitting next to him on somebody’s couch, at a house party padmé just needed to have you guys at. he smiles up at you, an almost dazed expression on his face. “hm?”

you giggle at him slightly, leaning closer to him so he could hear you over the painfully loud music being played. “gosh, what’d you drink? i swear, i’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, ever,”

“oh.” he smiles sheepishly, like a kid whose been caught sneaking candy. “nothi- i haven’t had anything. i’m driving you.” he reminds you.

“dunno, i figured you found someone else to.” you shrug dismissively, although you know he would never drink knowing he’s meant to drive you home. he shakes his head in response.

you smile up at him, and he sprawls his arm behind your shoulders and onto the couch, positioning himself closer to you. a content sigh escapes your lips as you take in your surroundings.

anakin watches the way your lips part, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in the tight dress you’re wearing tonight. gosh, did your tits spill out of it like this when you tried it on for him at the mall?

his mind almost drifts to what it would be like to take that dress of you, how it would feel to have those heels you’re wearing dig into his back. you don’t notice his stare, and how his pupils have grown so large you can’t see his irises.

he shakes those thoughts away as a few of his friends walk over. you don’t know them all well, but they’re always polite to you. you’re sure that anakin told them to be on their best behavior around you.

he greets them while you smile courteously, the shots you had with padmé and a few of your friends making you a bit more relaxed than usual.

“what, you and your girl sneak off to makeout?” one of the guys, who’s name you remember as james, says and nods towards his hand draped on the couch and over your shoulders.

you let out a small giggle, and you’re sure your face flushes, but you thank the dimmed lighting of the house party for hiding it.

truthfully, you often found yourself wishing you were ‘his girl.’ you know it’ll never happen, so you’ve gotten yourself used to just being his best friend.

still, you’ve never dated anyone, because they’re just not him. and when he’s asked as to why, you just smiled up at him playfully, replying with: “why would i need some guy, when i already make my best friend do everything for me?”

“yeah, we sure did.” anakin replies sarcastically. you know he’s only joking, but just the thoguht of it makes your spine straighten. you try to remain calm, laughing passively. you silently thank god for tequila.

james shrugs “i’m still surprised you’re not with her.” he says dismissively, ignoring anakins annoyed expression. “come on, you haven’t thought about it?” he says, laughing.

anakin doesn’t respond for a second, and you miss the slight smile on his face. “shut up, man.” he says, almost embarrassed. james holds his palms up in mock surrender, laughing.

“oh he definitely has.” laughs another friend, ethan, and you stifle a giggle. anakin shoots him a glare, and the rest of the guys just laugh.

the rest of the party goes on, and you and anakin get separated at some point, padmé dragging you along to go play beer pong or something.

you lose count of how much you’ve drank, and by the time anakin spots you in the crowd, you’re visibly wasted. he swears to himself, quickly bidding his friends a good night (ignoring their protests for him to stay) and hastily making his way over to you.

you’re leaned up against a counter, attempting to talk to one of your friends, while trying not to pass out or throw up right in the middle of the kitchen. anakin, like your knight in shining armor, quickly appears at your side.

“ani!” you slur, smiling up at him, quickly grabbing onto his bicep for balance. “hey sweetheart, i’m gonna take you home now, ok?” he says. you never drink, and on the rare occasion you do, it’s never more than a beer or a shot. he knows how wasted you are, and curses himself for letting you out of his sight.

“why?” you pout, wanting to stay longer. “you’re drunk baby.” he replies simply, as patient as always with you. you giggle at him. “yeah.”

he nods, smiling back. “yeah. you are.” he snakes one arm around your waist, steadying you, and you bid goodbye to your friend as he leads you out of the house. your heels click on the concrete driveway as he walks you down it, and he lifts you in the passenger seat of his truck, the throw blanket you always keep in your unofficial seat gets draped over you.

he starts his truck, soft rock music quietly fills the cab as you guys drive out of the neighborhood and down the street to yours. you reach up to grab his arm, his right hand coming off the wheel to intertwine with yours

after a while, the truck comes to a stop, and he gets out to open your door. you smile, unbuckling your seatbelt as he comes to your side of the car, helping you out and up the front porch stairs of your house.

as well as your moms being best friends, they also bought neighboring family houses, which has always called for lots of sleepovers between you and him. luckily, your parents are off on a trip, and mr. & mrs. skywalker know anakin is staying at yours, so there’s no need to have to sneak in.

he helps you up the stairs and into your bedroom, sitting you on your bed and kneeling down to take your shoes off. you giggle girlishly at the action, always finding the ways he takes care of you so sweet. anakin huffs out a laugh at your drunken glee, setting your shoes aside.

“hold on, ‘m gonna grab your water.” he says, walking over to your bedside table and filling a glass from your carafe and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, not realizing how parched you were, before saying a soft ‘thank you.’

he nods in response, handing you a nightgown to change into. normally, he’d be salivating at the sheer idea of you changing, but he’s so focused on making sure you’re comfortable and in bed, that he barley even notices. he turns around as you change, ever the gentleman, but he still catches notice of the way your nightgown puts your plush thighs on full display.

“wait. my makeup.” you say slowly, realizing you still have your makeup done. “hm?” he says, scanning your face with worry. “need to take my makeup off.” you explain, brows furrowed softly as you try to speak clearly. he realises what you mean and disappears into your bathroom, returning with makeup wipes, a damp washcloth, and moisturizer.

he’s seen you do this routine a million times, so he has no difficulty gently removing your makeup. he has one hand on the back of your head as he tilts it up to make sure he’s removed everything, before rinsing your skin with a warm cloth. you smile softly as he applies moisturizer, amused by how focused he looks doing it.

“good?” he asks, and you nod, crawling into bed and pulling the cool cotton sheet over your body. your eyes instinctively close and you feel the bed dip beside you as anakin lies down, now changed into just a pair of flannel pants. you lay on his bare chest, melting into the warmth.

he wraps his arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing small circles into your back. “i had fun.” you say, the tiredness overcoming the alcohol in your system. “yeah?” he replies, smiling down at you as you nod into his chest.

“mhm.” you mumble, and he leans down to plant a kiss to the top of your head. “i’m glad.” he says softly, trying to lull you to sleep. you crane your head up, your eyes shut as you whisper to him. “i’ve thought about it, too.” you admit, before laying back down.

his thumb freezes, no longer tracing patterns on your back, but it doesn’t matter as he already feels you sleeping. if it wasn’t for the fact that james’s words haven’t been playing on loop in his head all night, he’d be confused by what you said, but truthfully he can’t stop thinking about it. do others know how he feels about you? is it obvious? is it obvious to you?

he must have been imagining it. maybe you said something else. besides, you’re wasted and delirious. surely you couldn’t have been admitting your feelings to him.

right?

© 2025 @watchingtheboys – i do not own the rights to any of these characters, this is simply fan content. please do not copy any of my writing and repost or translate to other sites.

[iqxatlantic]

i know ur very kaiser - centric but if you're feeling it, I'd love if you could do a little something with this as a prompt😝😝 sorry this is freaked out as fuck i just cant contain my love for ness 💔

thanks, have a great day / night !! <33

hi just to put it out in the universe, ness gets so excited the second you touch him. it only takes a few minutes of grinding on each other, or passionate kisses where you're swapping spit for him to cum all over his boxers, and he tells you that with his ears red, facing away with you. sometimes, you offer to clean it all up for him, and when he finally lets you, he cums just as quickly as he did the first time, or even faster.

kali babe is this u 👀 anyways u asked anon bby and i shall serve you i love nessie hejejwahah

" I found it hard to find someone like you ! "

ft. alexis ness . ooc! ness . mmm touch-depriv ness . established relationships . sigh smut . afab! reader (sorry..) . can be seen as gn! reader thp . ness busts a lot what the freak... . makeouts . nawt proof read

wc: 0.5k

you always found your boyfriend ness the cutest creature you've ever laid eyes on. how easily you could make him fold, the way he'd go flush red the moment you smiled at him. one finger lay on him and he swears he's over the moon.

oh gosh, making out with him was even better. a few minutes of kissing, grinding on his muscular thigh... he's in shambles. dilated pupils, furrowed brows, mouth agape, mixed saliva dribbling down his chin.

ness is heated, he's a blushing mess. stumbling on his words. "[name], why'd you stop..?" he'd babbled out, struggling to maintain his cool.

tears dampened his lovely lashes. ness felt like he was on molly. shit. your touch was ecstasy. could someone's touch be that pleasurable? he's extremely hard. his precious semen threatening to spill out, making a mess in his boxers.

"[name], i- i'm gonna-" ness would whine out, turning away from you— any more grinding and he'd genuinely bust all over lol.

noticing how red he was, "you're gonna what, lex?" you'd ask, voice coated in honey. you were clearly mocking him, but he didn't need to know that. you smirked, "you gonna cum?"

ness couldn't keep it in. one more minute and he's screwed... scratch that. a few seconds, the tone of your voice was enough for him to make a mess.

your hips with a rhythm that screamed no innocence, just pure filth. ness blew out lmao. "scheiße...[name] i-" the magician whimpered out. "i came.."

the more he spent time with you — the more he became obsessed with you. "you came? let me clean it up for you, cutie." you cooed, like a lullaby yet your tone was dripping with seduction. kneeling on the floor.

ness constantly seems like he's in heat when he's around you. the air was thick, humid with heat and breath. the sound of his jean zipper being zipped down...

the distinct contrast with the darkened splotch on his boxers lmfao.... ness was breathing hard, not as hard as him though. ness let out a broken cry as the cool air hit his member. which was odd — THE WHOLE DAMN ATMOSPHERE WAS STEAMY. felt like the stratosphere was also steaming up lmfao.

he bit his lower lip, harsh enough to draw blood. the moment one of your fingers touched his sensitive member, he released again. this time — even more than the first. he had his eyes glued SHUT.

"a-ah.. i'm sorry [name]-" ness would mewl out. opening his eyes once more, he took a look at you and deadass came again. the sight of you covered with his milky seed was enough to mmm... his hips bucked a bit forward, letting out a gasp, trembling and raw. (hye tryna do u raw idk)

you palming his member, he just kept coming over and over again ohmygawd.. the open mouth kisses you'd leave on his thighs etc etc... drops of sweat slipped down his nape.

gaaawd, ness was in heaven. "[name], i love youiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou" the magenta eyed man repeated almost religiously.

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags ! : @twijaxx ♡, @kalithulium

a/n: 2 posts in a week?! i love ness mmmm. ness... hehehahahhaha. i highkey dont know how to write smut anymore #sendhelpisacantwrite.. but hopefully you enjoyed ness hehe bc ik i would enjoy ness YESSS GAWD ! <3

[darklucielle]

Sleeping Beauty

IVE Gaeul x M Reader POV

Tags: Submissive, Blowjob, Roommates

(Short one just like her height.)

2:18 am

Suddenly I woke up from my sleep. I sat down and felt my cock erect and throbbing.

"Fucking hell... I was enjoying it then it got cutted off." I mummured. I dreamed of me fucking Wonyoung's mouth as she looked at me. The way she moan, her mouth sounds while i'm facefucking her. It feels so real.

Now, All I have to do is to jerk my cock then I'll go to sleep.

I grabbed my phone and went to search for q good fancams of Kpop idols.

"Boring... Boring.. Meh... The quality is so shit. Fuck!" I threw my phone away. "Nothing good today. I guess I have to jerk at that Wonyoung faceporn tribute once again... for the eleventh time."

I was going to reach my phone when I heard a faint murmurs.

"I'm hungry... hungry..."

There's my roommate, Gaeul. She's sleeptalking again. The faint glow of the bedside lamp shows her radiant beauty as she keeps talking at sleep.

Sudden thought crossed to my mind as I stare at her lips. It was full and plump. Not perfect like Wonyoung but that's enough to make me have some crazy thoughts of fucking her mouth while she's asleep.

Gets off from my bed then I slowly walked towards to her. She's sleeping peacefully. Unaware of me and my sinful thoughts.

I pulled down my boxer shorts to free my throbbing cock from it's confines. The tip is glistering with pre-cum. I know that I have to do this as soon as possible before I go crazy.

"Fuck... Gaeul. Your lips is so inviting right now. Let me feel that dick sucking lips."

Slowly and cautiously went closer to her face. I slowly rubbed the tip of my cock around her lips. My heart is beating so fast like that's the sound that all I can hear.

Obviously, this is all wrong. I can get into the jail if I'm caught doing this to her. But all these guilt thoughts just vanished as I slowly inserted my cock inside her mouth. The way how I slowly penetrate her soft lips is just heavenly.

"Fuck... I never thought your lips feels this good."

Slowly pushing it in until she moved a little. It froze me. Hoping that she still sleeping. After a while, I continued pushing my entire cock inside her mouth. The tip touched at the back of her throat. I don't know if this is reflex but I felt it gave way for my entire length to slip through her lips.

I let it sit for a while before I pulled it out until the tip is still inside then pushed it back. Slowly facefucking my sleeping roommate is new and thrilling thing.

I decided to climb at her bed and straddles her face. My knees are positioned at the sides of her head. I continued facefucking her. From slow and hestitant to quite fast and confident. I know she's a deep sleeper, heck I need to shake her many times to wake her up every morning.

"Fuck... Why I didn't thought about this sooner? Gosh. Her mouth is amazing fleshlight."

"Hmmpp.. ahhh..."

"Yeah, Gaeul. This feels good, right? Treating you like this while you're still on your dreamland."

My thrusts goes hard and deep. My hands clutching tight at her pillow as I continued pleasuring myself using my roommate's mouth.

"Fuck... I'm almost there, Gaeul. Drink it up, alright?"

My thrusts became more forceful and quick. Chasing my own climax. I need to finish this fast.

"Almost there! Fuck!"

One deep thrust inside, I exploded. Long ropes of thick cum bursted inside of her mouth. Filling her up. Surely most of it are straight down to her throat.

I stayed for a while to catch my breath. She still sleeping despite just got violated by her roommate. Slowly pulled my soften cock out from her mouth then wore my shorts back.

Goes back to my bed with a huge smile on my face. I just can't believe that I fucked my roommate's mouth. Next time, I'll be bolder than ever. Not just her mouth will be fucked and filled.

Next morning

I came to wake her up. I shaked her arms many times until she finally left the dreamland.

"Good.. Morning.."

Her voice is groggy and her face tells that she just tasted something.

"Why my mouth is feels sticky and... weird?"

"Weird? Might be because you slept for too long. Your tastebuds might turned like that. Here, Have a cold juice to freshen up."

She reached out to accept the cold juice. "Maybe you're right. You're not a person who will do something weird while I was asleep, right?" She takes a long sip of her juice.

I chuckled. "Come on, we're been together as a roommates for almost two months. Ofcourse, I won't do something to you. Sleepyhead."

"Right. I trust you. Fully. Thanks for this cold juice."

"No problem. Finish that up then wash your face. Breakfast is waiting."

-End of Part 1-

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Spicy chatting with Stan and Ford? Consider this ask my vote for that ❤️💙

(Love your writing, I've lurked for a while and finally remembered to follow)

sexting Stan and Ford headcanons

2 part of this

also thank you so much <3 im so glad to know you enjoy my writing !

tagging : @nekovmancer

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ he tries. god, does he try. but his texts are a combination of filthy and absolutely unhinged, it’s straight to “doll im sittin' here thinkin’ 'bout how good you’d look bent over my desk.”

✧ typically sends a blurry pic of his bare chest, captioned, “betcha wanna get your hands on this masterpiece, huh?" and you’re just staring at the picture like. . . gosh, Stan, who took this? did he set a fucking timer? he looks hot though 

✧ so yeah Stanley sends you photos, usually unprompted and always blurry because he’s just an old man, dear, what did you except?? his clothes half-open, pants unzipped just enough to give you a peek of what’s underneath and next message is: “betcha wanna see the whole thing, huh? be a good girl and ask nice.”

✧ texts you in the middle of the day: “gonna bend you over the kitchen counter tonight babe. make you cum on my fingers before I even think about putting my cock in you. whaddaya think?”

✧ he loves it when you’re bold, you send him something like: “what if I sit on your face instead?” and he’s instantly typing back: “doll, don’t threaten me with a good time. ya know I’d keep ya there till your legs give out.”

✧ Stan worships your photos. you send him a quick pic of you in bed and he replies immediately: “FUCK look at you. LOOK at THAT body. im gonna make you regret sending me that when im back. you better be ready for this cock, doll, ‘cause im not holding back.”

✧ a huge tease tbh, he wants you to beg. “tell me what you want, sweetheart. you want me to spread those legs and eat you out until you’re shaking? or maybe you want this thick cock filling you up?“

✧ “you’re touching yourself right now, aren’t ya? cant stop thinkin bout me pounding into you, huh? go ahead, baby. lemme know how bad you want it.”

✧ he’s got no shame about jerking off while texting you, you say one dirty thing, and he’s already: “jesus fucking christ, you’re killin me here, doll. im so fuckin hard right now. If you were here, I’d have you on your knees, taking care of me like the good girl you are.”

✧ Stan’s aftercare starts in the texts. so after he’s talked you through your orgasm, his messages turn soft. “that’s my girl, bet you look real pretty all flushed and satisfied. get some rest, doll you’re gonna need it when I get home.”

✧ Stan LOVES it when you play hard to get. “cmon, baby, don’t leave me hangin’. I swear, I’ll make it worth your while when I get my hands on you again.” but when you finally cave and give him a little, just a little, taste of what you want, his reply is “yeah that’s better, let me see that pussy of yours. you know I can make you feel good. let me prove it.”

✧ as you have already understood, this man is shameless, and he knows he’s good at getting under your skin.

“been thinkin’ about that pretty little cunt of yours, doll. what’s it gonna take to get my face buried there tonight?

✧ if you send him something back, it’s over. he’s going to double down with something that makes your toes curl. “you don’t know how badly I wanna fuck that smart mouth of yours until you forget your own name.” 

✧ the man is a sucker for dirty talk. he loves it when you tease him back, but he’s the most eloquent in his replies

✧ “If I was there right now, you wouldn’t be able to get a single word out. id have you moanin’ so loud they’d hear you down the street. you like the sound of that?”

✧ “you know I could really go for you in that tiny skirt of yours right now. make you bend over and fuck you while you’re still wearin’ it.” damn

✧ he’s a man of action. his texts are short and right to the point. “im gonna make you scream my name tonight, sweetheart. better be ready.”

✧ sends you something filthy right out of the blue. "you’re really makin' it hard for me to concentrate on work, baby. every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the way you looked last night, riding me till you couldn’t walk.”

✧ if you send him a picture, especially if you’re in lingerie or something that shows just the right amount of skin, he goes wild. “WOAH, sweetheart. you’re gonna make me LOSE IT. I wanna tear that off you and fuck you right here RIGHTJ NOW.” the author's spelling has been preserved.

✧ a lot messages like: “tell me, doll, what color are those panties you got on right now?“

✧ but the minute you call him on his antics in person, he’s all cocky smirks and “ya can’t blame me for wantin’ to spoil my favorite girl, can ya?”

bonus 

Stan: hey doll, you up?

You: it’s 1 AM Stan

Stan: exactly

Stan: perfect time to talk about what you’d look like on top of me 

You: …smooth 

Stan: c’mon don’t act all shy

Stan: you were thinkin’ it too. bet you’re wearin’ somethin’ cute right now, huh?

Stan: or nothin’. nothin’s good too! 👍👍👍

You: why are you always texting me at the most unholy hours?

Stan: unholy?? c’mon sweetheart i’m just here tryna spread a little late night joy

Stan: i was thinkin’ about you though

Stan: well. you. and about how that sweet little mouth of yours looked last night

You: oh my godd

Stan: what?! it’s the truth

Stan: bet you’d look even better right now

You: you’re horrible

Stan: and you’re fuckin’ gorgeous

Stan: now be a good girl and tell me what you’re wearin

You: literally in my pajamas Stan

Stan: cute

Stan: betcha look sweet all wrapped up in blankets… though you’d look sweeter wrapped around me instead

You: fuck

You: Stan! 

Stan: what? i’m just bein’ honest. you want me to lie? fine! i’m thinkin’ about taxes. there. happy?

You: oh, shut up old man 

Stan: nah i’d rather talk about how soft your thighs are. how they’d feel so good squeezin’ around my head. c’mon, sweetheart, gimme somethin’. don’t make me do all the heavy liftin’ here

You: only if you promise to return the favor

you smirk, biting your lip, already excited because god you love playing hard to get with this man. so you let the moment linger just long enough to make him squirm before snapping a photo, of course you were lying bout pajamas and Stan damn knew, he felt 

you send the picture: lacy panties of your favourite colour barely covering anything, paired with an oversized sleep shirt that’s slipping off your shoulder

Stan: holy fuckin shit

Stan: you’re gonna make an old man’s heart give out

You: what, you don’t like it? :(

Stan: don’t like it? baby i’m gonna FRAME this picture and hang it on my wall

Stan: better yet i’m gonna print it out and carry it around so i can show off what’s mine

You: wtf that’s absurd

Stan: no what’s absurd is how hard i am right now. fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. every inch of ya

You: your turn, old man

You: prove it 

you don’t expect him to actually follow through, but then your phone buzzes

Stan: look at what you’re gonna get, babe. and it’s all yours

a photo. exactly what you imagined: poorly lit, shot from a slightly awkward angle, but still breathtaking and so damn hot. his cock is thick and heavy in his hand, flushed and glistening at the tip, veins are prominent, pulsing down the shaft, and his fingers, broad, calloused, strong, wrap around it like he’s ready to ruin you as he strokes himself 

your mouth goes dry, you blink at the screen, your lip caught between your teeth. hell, you’ve seen him before, touched him, tasted him, but this photo is something else entirely. your fingers twitch like they want to reach through the phone because you’d crawl through the damn screen if you could

your fingers hover over the keys, trying to think of something clever to say, but the words won’t come. thighs clenching instinctively as you just stare at the screen.

You: okay, not bad, old man

Stan: NOT BAD?!

Stan: sweetheart, you’re lyin’ through your teeth. i know you’re sittin’ there soakin’ through those little lace panties of yours

You: please, you think one dick pic is enough to faze me 

Stan: oh, is that right? big talk comin’ from someone who’s gonna be beggin’ for it by the end of this

You: you wish old man

Stan: nah I know. let me paint you a picture, sweetie

Stan: you, spread out under me, that pretty little pussy so wet i can hear it every time i slide in. your legs wrapped so tight around me like you’re scared i’m gonna pull away. and me, fillin’ you up so deep you can feel me in your fuckin’ throat

and there your smugness falters

You: oh god

You: Stan

Stan: what���s the matter? 

Stan: cat got your tongue? betcha you’re soaked right now, huh? sittin’ there with that pretty little pussy all wet, wishin’ i was there to fill ya up

Stan: admit it, baby. your fingers aren’t even enough. you’re mine. every inch of you belongs to me and i’m gonna remind you of that the second i get my hands on ya

You: you’re not winning this old man

Stan: heh sweetheart, i already HAVE

your fingers fumble on the keyboard as you type, cheeks burning

You: please come

Stan: there you go, now that’s my girl 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines

✧ he starts out so awkward it’s painful. you’ll send him something suggestive, and he’ll reply with: “Oh. Well. That’s… intriguing.” Intriguing, Ford? seriously?

✧ as we all know, Ford overthinks everything! it takes him forever to hit send because he’s convinced he’ll say something wrong and he’s so fucking nervous

✧ but as soon as he feels comfortable, he’s sending you long, well thought out messages full of science-y talk about how he wants to make you feel, because of course he’s analyzing you in a way. “I’ve been reading up on the physiological responses of the body during… how should I put this?… intimate interactions. Your body would likely respond most positively to the—” and then he gets really filthy without realizing it

✧ but Ford, dear sweet Ford, doesn’t always realize just how much of an effect his words have on you. if he’ll start spouting off his deep thoughts, you’ll send him, “Ford, I swear to god, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to need to change my sheets.

✧ absolutely loves when you tease him, but he also knows how to turn it back on you. “Good girl, now tell me exactly what you’d like me to do to you, in vivid detail. I’m taking notes.”

✧ "I’d have you on your knees, darling. Holding you by the hair while I take you deep, slow. You’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?"

✧ Ford LOVES playing the “I’m going to ruin you slowly” card. It gets under your skin every time. “You won’t be able to think about anything else when I’m done with you. I’ll have you begging for more.”

✧ you’ll send him a flirty text and two minutes later, he’s sent back an entire paragraph detailing how he’d peel your clothes off and worship you from head to toe

✧ as I said, he’s so damn descriptive, I mean bro literally wrote 3 journals, it’s easy for him. “I’d kiss my way down your stomach, slow enough to make you squirm. My fingers would trace your thighs, spreading you open so I could take my time tasting you, savoring every—” you’re already screaming into your pillow

✧ surprisingly filthy when he gets really needy and horny. long messages about exactly what he wants to do to you or what he wants you to do to him

✧ Ford is a huge fan of getting into your mind before he even thinks about touching you. he wants to know what makes you tick, what gets you wet, what turns you on mentally first

✧ he tries to stay composed, but the second you tease him, his composure shatters. you send him a pic, maybe just a peek of your thighs and he’s breathless: “What are you doing to me, darling? Do you have any idea how hard I am right now? I can’t stop imagining those legs wrapped around me while I’m making love to you, God help me.”

✧ “i would love to feel the warmth of your skin beneath my fingers as I slowly undress you. I’ll start by trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, until I reach the sweet spot between your thighs. Would you let me do that, darling?”

✧ embarrassingly vocal about how much he needs you. you’ll get texts like:

“I can’t concentrate on anything. I keep thinking about how tight and wet you felt around me last night. We need to make love again.” and then, seconds later:

“Please tell me you’re touching yourself right now. I need to know you’re thinking about me while you do it.”

✧ “God, I’d give anything to have my cock inside you right now.”

✧ If you send him a spicy picture, he just about short-circuits. “You’re exquisite. I need to see more.”

✧ “You don’t even realize the effect you have on me, do you? I’d ruin you in the most wonderful ways, darling.” you’re a puddle in seconds.  

✧ Ford loves when you’re explicit with him. if you’ll text him something like: “I want your cock so deep I forget my own name,” you’ll get: “Careful what you wish for, darling. I’ll have you screaming it by the time I’m done with you.”

✧ If you ever send him something too really dirty, all your fantasies and wishes, expect him to stare at your text, blink for a second, then type back: “That’s... unexpected. But I’m very intrigued. You must have an incredible imagination.” 

✧ sometimes Ford gets real quiet after a particularly hot conversation, nervous even. “I shouldn’t have sent that… I’m sorry if I…”

“Ford, don’t you dare apologize. I love it.”

bonus

Ford: Are you still awake, darling?

You: what do you think?

Ford: Well, considering you’re answering me, I’d say yes. I must say, you’ve been a distraction all day, sweetheart. I just keep replaying the way your skin felt under my hands the last time we touched… the sounds you made when I kissed you, your thighs.

You: sounds like you’re the distracted one, Doctor Pines

Ford: You’re the most beautiful distraction imaginable. Entirely your fault.

you smirk at the screen as an idea strikes

You: how’s this for distracting?

you send the picture: legs spread wide, your pussy glistening under soft light with two fingers pressing yourself open just enough to expose everything. you know Ford’s obsessive attention to detail, the way he adores every curve and line of you. oh god he’ll lose his mind over this

but. . . 

Ford doesn’t reply immediately. one minute. two now. the anticipation builds and your stomach twists.

You: …

You: Ford?

You: oh my god, say something!

You: was it too much? too forward?

five agonising minutes later, your phone lights up.

Ford: Darling… You are beautiful. Utterly perfect. Forgive my silence, I needed a moment to… compose myself.

You: five minutes of silence isn’t exactly reassuring, Ford

Ford: I assure you, I was not silent in my head.

You: damn

You: thought I broke you there

Ford: You nearly did. It’s taking all my willpower to stay coherent.

You: old man ur making me blush

Ford: I’m sorry! I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you, my dear. I’d rather make you tremble with pleasure.

You: you really like it that much?

Ford: I’m obsessed, love. Now, listen carefully. Take those fingers, sweetheart. Slowly. I want you to trace circles around your little clit, soft and teasing. No rushing.

and of course you obey

You: im so sensitive rn Ford

Ford: Good, honey. Yeah, nice and slow.

You: like this?

Ford: Exactly like that. Does it feel good, darling? Tell me.

You: so good im already so wet for you 

Ford: Good. Now, slide one of those fingers inside. Don’t go too deep yet. Just enough to feel it.

You: fuck, Ford 

You: feels amazin

Ford: That’s my girl. Now, add another. Stretch yourself out for me, darling. I want you to imagine it’s my fingers instead. Feel how I’d curl my fingers to touch you just right, all your sweet spots. Don’t stop until I tell you to.

You: :((

Ford: Sweetheart? What’s wrong?

You: it’s not the same

You: you’ve got six fingers, i can’t make it feel like you

Ford: Ah, my darling… that’s terribly unfair of me, isn’t it? You’re right. No one else can touch you the way I can. But I promise, when I’m there, I’ll make it up to you tenfold. For now, let’s keep going. I want you to use your fingers, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good for me, pleasure yourself. Please. Slide them deep and tell me how it feels.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world’s most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

Bucky yawns as you take his plate. He rubs his eyes as Steve blinks long and hard. You look out at the dusty old road. Tumble Down’s a long way out from anywhere. 

“Y’all gonna drive all night?” You wonder aloud. 

Steve sniffs and Bucky grumbles. “Gonna have to,” the latter says. 

“There’s a motel ‘bout two hours down. Truckers stop that way to rest but the last one came through, he was scratching from the bed bugs.” You cluck. “Those men work hard, ya know, but they just don’t make nothing easy."

“Two hours?” Steve echoes with a nod. You put his plate on the other as you pull your focus back. 

“Won’t be far,” Bucky sounds unconvinced. “I’ll just close my eyes a little. Tell me if I swerve--” 

“Buck.” 

The man chortles. “You know I’m kidding.” 

You look at the plates and then them. You don’t know if your ma and pa will believe you when you tell them. Wouldn’t it be better to show them? 

“Well, ya know, there’s spare rooms at my place. If it’s not forward of me,” you smile. “Oh, gosh, it must be, huh?” You cradle the plates against your stomach. “But it’s a lot closer. Twenty minutes or so.” 

Steve scratches his jaw and Bucky combs his metal fingers through his hair. They share a look you can’t decipher. The Captain looks at you. 

“That wouldn’t be too much?” He asks. 

“I don’t think so. I can call ma and pa, let them know. They love company.” 

“Hm,” Steve tilts his head. “Don’t feel like you have to be so nice.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Y’all are so nice and you’re heroes. Least I can do is put the bill on the house and get you a good night’s rest,” you beam. 

“Now that you won’t do,” Bucky takes out his wallet. “Girl like you’s earned a big tip.” He slaps bills down on the table. “Buy yourself something pretty.” 

“Maybe just a bag of feed for Cindy Lou,” you chuckle, “thank you, sir.” 

“Bucky,” he looks at your full hands. He scoops up the bills and reaches to tuck them in your apron instead. “We’ll take the rooms. I need to lay down.” He leans back and rolls his shoulders. “Someone has to work on their aim.” 

“Or you need to work on your reflexes,” Steve scoffs. 

You chuckle and leave them to bicker. It’s cute. Like Mrs. and Mr. Owens. You swear they could argue about the colour of the sky. 

You put the dishes in the window and stand on your toes to see Darnell. He’s got a paper back bent as he reads the curling pages. He glances over. 

“I’ll get ‘em in a sec,” he assures. “Wanna finish this part.” 

“Sure thing,” you chirp. 

You turn and stop short. You spin again and head down to the tiered shelf. You slide the pie from the middle and put it to the side. You turn and take two of the scalloped plates from the stack. You cut two slices and carry them to the only occupied table. 

“The apple pie’s going to go stale if it doesn’t get ate,” you put the plates down. “Can ya help me out?” 

Steve’s check ticks as his lips curve. “Apple pie? Well, don’t get much more American than that.” 

“But nothing’s cheesier than the Cap,” Bucky snorts. He gets a sharp look from his lifelong friend. 

“Enjoy,” you chime and retreat. 

You rock on your soles patiently. You don’t have much left on your shift. Amy will be here soon for the night shift; the truckers tend to come by after midnight. 

“Mm, the cook make this?” Bucky asks. 

You drag yourself from your thoughts and pop your head up. “Um, no. I did. I bake ‘em at home. Owner lets me sell them here.” 

“As he should. It’s very good,�� Steve praises. 

“Gee, really? It’s my granny’s recipe.” 

Steve hums in pleasure. “You know, think we’ll finish this and wait for you outside before anyone else shows up.” 

“Good idea,” Bucky gulps. “I don’t got that energy right now.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll let y’all be in peace,” you say. 

You go into the kitchen and swipe up the plates. Darnell looks over as the door swings shut. “Said I’d get to ‘em.” 

“It’s no worries. I don’t mind. Nothing else to do around here.” You bring them to the sink and place them inside. You crank on the faucet and scour the porcelain. 

All in all, it’s not been a bad day. But now that you think about the night, you’re nervous. Ma and Pa sure will be surprised, but what about after? They might not be so impressed that you offered them to stay. 

🥧

“Y’all just gotta follow me,” you stand by the open door of your pa’s truck. “I’ll drive slow.” 

“Think we can keep up,” Bucky says. 

You smile and turn back. You grab the door and the seat. “You need help?” Steve offers. 

“Nuh uh,” you lift your foot onto the metal step, “got it.” 

You haul yourself up and pull shut the door. You give a thumbs up through the window. The men watch you as the stand by their motorcycles. You must look a little silly to them. The few city folk you’ve met, seem to think the people around her are simple. Maybe you are. 

You back out and spin the wheel. You head down the gravel road, two hands on the large ridged wheel as you steer into the rising night The closer you get to home, the more restless you are. 

As you pull in, you see your pa on the front porch where he always in. In his rocking chair. You shift into park and kill the engine. You get out as the bikes rumble up behind you. You hope down, the keys jingle, purse bouncing on your hip. 

“Hey, pa, is ma inside?” 

“What’s that racket?” He growls, squinting past you as he leans to one side.  A headlight gleams back at him. 

“It’s uh... company?” You stop at the bottom of the steps, just within the yellow sheen of the porch light. The mosquitoes buzz past your ears and your swat them away. A moth’s shadow circles over you. “Some diners...” 

“We ain’t running no hotel,” he harrumphs as the roar behind you quiets. 

“I know, pa. It’ll be my responsibility. Just wanted to talk to ma--” Footsteps crunch closer behind you. 

“Sir. I wanted to thank you myself for your hospitality. Your daughter’s been very kind to me and my friend.” 

Steve steps up beside you. You glance over at him nervously then back to your father. He stops his chair from rocking and leans forward. He blinks. 

“Heavens, your ma’s right about my glasses. Best start wearin’ them,” your pa shakes his head. “I can’t be seein’ straight.” 

“Pa,” you breathe, “It’s him.” 

“Steve Rogers, sir,” the blonde climbs the stairs and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Captain,” your father stands and shakes his hand emphatically. “An honour, if I ever known one. My wife’s grandfather, he was a service man. My own granddaddy too. Over on the islands.” 

“It was a big effort, for everyone,” Steve says. 

“Sergeant,” your pa slips his hand free. Bucky steps up, much less bold than the other man. 

“Sir,” Bucky responds quietly. “Hope it’s not too much. Just for the night.” 

“Make yourselves at home,” your pa insists. “I’ll go get Yvette. She’ll be over the moon. She ain’t gonna believe me.” 

“I’ll get her,” you offer. 

“Okay, okay,” your pa stands marveling at the Cap. “That shield is shiny as it looks on the TV.” 

Steve reaches back to unstrap the shield and presents it. You flit inside just as your eye meets Bucky’s. He nods before he turns to the other men. 

The floorboards creak as you go inside. You put your purse on the narrow table against the wall. You can hear the TV in the kitchen scratching through the old speakers. 

Your ma’s in there, at the table with the small box TV and it’s crooked antenna. You recognise the voices of the old soap characters she adores. She likes the ones from the nineties, only complains about the new ones. 

“Hey, ma,” you greet her. 

“Where’s your pa? Still outside?” She doesn’t look away from the small screen. 

“Uh huh. He’s uh... chatting with our guests.” 

“Guests?” She sits up tall and peels her eyes away from the TV. “Who’s that then?” 

“Ah, er, it’s uh--” 

“Yvette, you best not have nothing on your dress. We got some fine gentleman here,” your pa stomps down the hallway. “Some heroes.” 

“Heroes?” Your ma stands and rubs her hips. “What’re you on about, Ger—Oh, my lord! Is it—It’s-- he’s so blond!” 

She fans herself and bounds toward Steve as he stops behind your father. “And he brought that other one, didn’t he?” She peeks behind him. “And you look mighty beat. You need some food and some showerin’ and some beds.” 

“Maybe the last two,” Steve says. “Your daughter fed us down at the diner.” 

“Good girl,” your ma praises. “Well, then, we’ll go get them beds made up and Ger can show you where to wash up. Ah gee, henny,” she calls you by her little nickname. “You didn’t say, did ya?” 

“I was trying,” you murmur. 

“Come on, I gotta air out the rooms.” She grabs you and takes you past the super soldiers. They seem bigger as you pass. 

Your ma drags you upstairs. She stops you at the linen closet and takes out a stack of bedding. She dumps it in your arms and snaps the door shut. You follow her to the guest room at the end of the hall. 

She opens it up and flicks on the light. It’s been a while since you used the space. Not since Great Aunt Dorothea came and got in that spat with your ma. 

“You’ll have to get the old ones of,” she dabs her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ve been sweatin’ my wig off all day.” 

You chuckle and go to work. You unhook the corners and gather the old bed in a ball. You pull on the fresh sheets and a quilt. You fluff the pillows too. You open the windows, shaking out the curtains. 

“Have to do the other too,” she girds. 

“Yes, ma.” 

You go into the next room. She lingers at the doorway. You watch her trying to listen to what’s going on below. 

“They came down to the diner?” She wonders as she leans on the frame. 

“Yep. I was just as surprised. They just rode right up lookin’ for a side of bacon,” you cheep. “They’re very polite, ya know?” 

“Well, they’re the old-fashioned type, ain’t they? Respectable too. Handsome,” she feels along the collar of her old farm dress. 

“Ma,” you chide as you heave the old bedding toward her. 

“You can’t deny it, can ya, sweet girl? Two of ‘em, too. What’re they doin’ in Tumble Down?” 

“Doin’ what every else does. Pass through,” you shrug. 

She nods and her face falls. “Yeah, it’s always the same old ‘around here, isn’t it?” 

“Same old,” you agree as you gesture past her. She lets you into the hallway and you grab the other disposed bedding. 

“Doesn’t have to be, ya know? Them boys are single.” 

“Ma,” you guffaw. “Don’t be silly.” 

“Well, I think I’m a bit past all that. But you--” 

“Ma,” you repeat. 

“Oh, you’re always so picky. First, you won’t go out to the fair with Jacob, then you won’t let Leslie take you on a picnic--” 

“Jacob spat on me in grade school and Leslie only wanted to make Corrine jealous,” you huff as you carry the sheets down the hall. “I’m happy as I am, ma. It’s nice to get a bit of excitement, but I’m not dreamy-eyed. I know where I belong.” 

She tuts. “You’re a good girl, henny. Too good for yourself.”  

You go downstairs and turn down the hall. The pipes thrum as the shower runs. As you enter the kitchen, you see Bucky at the table by the small television. Your dad’s hovering by him, yapping about what he saw on the documentary channel. 

“And they went to Belgium. You could see the broken trees, some of em...” 

Bucky glances over as you near the laundry room door. He brightens up as he watches you. You dip your chin down. You want to apologise to him. Your dad’s not much of a talker most of the time but when he latches onto something, he sure can get carried away. 

Oh well, it’s one night. One night and they can go back to being heroes. And you can gossip to Corrine about how you met most famous men in the world. 

[megalony]

Protection Scheme- Part 2

Here is the second part of my David! Clark Kent imagine, thank you all for the truly amazing feedback on the first part.

I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo @sabsthedoll @rach2602 @itshamleth @ladespedidas @devilslittlehelper @buckslifeline @wanniiieeee @jaydaaasworld @theelementofsurprisee @andrewgarfieldislife

@eeveedream @keepingitlokiii @superemobitch

Superman tags: @elliott-calls

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) had a bad relationship before Clark but she doesn't talk about it much or even mention her ex's name. She hopes Clark will never run into her ex. But things aren't always so easy.

Enjoy.

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"Warren, he- he's my ex."

Clark could feel his usually warm flushed skin turning ice cold when (Y/n)'s words hit his ears. His hand that was being pinned to her chest had gone numb and all the colour had drained down from his fingertips like it was pooling in his elbow.

His numb fingers twitched against (Y/n)'s chest like he was trying to stroke her skin and give her some sense of comfort, but he knew he couldn't.

How could Clark possibly comfort (Y/n) right now when he had caused such a horrible situation for her?

His jaw unhinged and hung down like it had become dislocated, showing his pearly whites and each shallow breath that managed to fan past his lips. And his previously rosy complexion had faded to a nasty shade of grey; the colour was draining from him like the sun was causing him to fade to black and white.

A whimper escaped past (Y/n)'s lips when she watched Clark begin to shake his head like he was begging for her to tell him that this was a mistake or a prank she had pulled on him. He would start laughing and never hold it against her if this turned out to be a joke, but deep down he knew it couldn't be.

The devastation in (Y/n)'s eyes was too hard to fake. It truly was her ex-boyfriend sitting in Clark's living room. And Clark had invited him here.

Oh what had he done?

"Oh gosh. No, oh baby I- I'm so sorry-"

"You couldn't have known…" (Y/n) shook her head as she clutched at his wrist tight enough to threaten dislocation. She felt a desperate need to bind herself to Clark, to imbed his hand into her chest as if his touch on her heart would soothe her and make everything better. She clung to him as tightly as she could with tears burning down her face and her breaths becoming shallow.

She knew that Clark hadn't done this on purpose and he couldn't have known who Warren was.

This was her fault, she should have told Clark his name when he asked the other day at work. She should have given in and let Jimmy persuade her that Clark should know, even if Superman technically shouldn't.

(Y/n) should have told Clark who her ex was, what his name was and where he used to work. At least then it meant that if Warren had come around or tried to find (Y/n), Clark would have an inkling and a bit of forewarning and some knowledge.

How could he have known that Warren was her ex when she hadn't even told Clark her ex was named Warren? And Warren hadn't mentioned any issues with an ex in the past, all Clark knew was that he was currently single. He would have guessed that already if he knew this guy was (Y/n)'s ex.

"I need to go-"

"You… you think I'm seriously going to let you walk out, and what? Me and him stay and become best friends? If anyone's leaving it's him."

Clark have (Y/n) such an incredulous look that she shivered and dropped her gaze down to his thighs instead.

Did she think Clark was letting her go home and be on her own tonight? Did she think he was going to let her leave like this? Warren couldn't stay, Clark couldn't try and talk to him or be friendly now that he knew what he had done. Warren was leaving one way or another, but (Y/n) wasn't going anywhere.

"God, I'm glad I asked you round," A sarcastic chuckle almost like a cackle left Clark's lips, giving him a strange aura as he shook his head and flexed his fingers against her chest. "If you weren't here, I wouldn't know…"

It didn't bear thinking about. If Clark hadn't been so nervous about being in someone's company on his own, if he didn't ask (Y/n) to be here for a friendly dinner, Clark would be none the wiser. He could of gone out for a drink with Warren and thought he'd made a friend. He could have become a close friend to this guy before ever realising who he was.

Clark wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if he'd of known and interacted with Warren for a long time before finding out he was the menacing ex that had hurt (Y/n) badly in the past. That would have made him sick to his stomach.

A groaned burned at the back of Clark's throat and as he exhaled, he carefully wrangled his wrist free from (Y/n)'s grasp where his arm was pinned to her chest. He flexed his stiff fingers for a moment before he wound his arms around her before she thought he was about to pull away from her.

He stayed crouching between her thighs and slid both hands along her thighs until he was clutching her hips. And his head tipped down until his face was smothered in her thighs and he let out a deep growl that had (Y/n)'s nerves vibrating and electrifying.

(Y/n) shakily began to card her fingers through Clark's hair while he clung to her like he thought without her, he might just disappear.

She didn't want to let him go, but the sigh that passed Clark's lips was a knowing, telltale sign that he was about to part from her touch. They couldn't hide out in the kitchen for the rest of the night. Nor could they leave Warren to his own devices in the living room.

She felt his hands giving her hips a tight squeeze before he heaved up from where he was crouched down near the floor. The back of Clark's knees and the soles of his feet ached and stung once he was finally stood up straight. He reached down to cradle the nape of (Y/n)'s neck and his head tipped down until his lips were pressed against the top of her head.

"Stay in here." There was something almost commanding behind his words, as if it wasn't Clark in front of her anymore, but Superman trying to keep her safe from the threat in the other room.

(Y/n) nodded wordlessly against his lips, moving her hands to clutch at her knees when Clark pulled back and disappeared out the door with hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides.

Blood bubbled and curdled in Clark's veins like a potion was rolling through him and changing something within him. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pummel his fists through the walls and scream until there was no air left in his lungs.

This wasn't fair. If he never walked into that coffee shop last week then none of this would have happened.

Losing his temper wouldn't be a good idea. Deep down Clark knew that, but it was so tempting to let loose the rage stored up within him. Rage that multiplied from every little thing that annoyed him which he kept bottled up and now he was ready to spill over and unleash it all.

But then who would he be if he did that? He would drag himself down to Warren's level if he lost his temper and started to shout or throw fists. Even when he was Superman, he didn't fight unless it was absolutely necessary and that was almost always impersonal.

This was as personal as it could get.

It felt like a completely different universe when Clark walked out of the kitchen and stood just over the threshold of the living room. His eyes locked onto Warren immediately and when he looked at him, he could feel his stomach churning and bile rising in the back of his throat.

He didn't like what he saw. Warren was sat where Clark had left him in the armchair he seemed to have chosen and made himself comfy in. But he had one of the picture frames in his hands. A picture Lois had taken at the office where Clark was sitting at his desk and (Y/n) was stood behind him with her arms around his neck and her chin nestled into his bird's nest of curls.

Clark loved that photo, it was one of his favourites and to see it clasped in Warren's menacing hands was like a low blow to the stomach.

He should have said something by now. Warren should have seen the photos of (Y/n) in the apartment and stood up. He should have voiced the confusion, the mistake that had occurred and made his excuses to leave. But he clearly wasn't a level-headed person with an ounce of respect in him.

"Thought you'd forgotten about me."

Warren's voice brought Clark out of his raging thoughts and he managed a strained hum in response along with a quiet "Nope."

He could see Warren side-eyeing him like he could feel the rising tension in the air but if he noticed, he didn't let it show on his face. Instead, Warren gave the picture a little wave which sent jolts of electricity flowing through Clark's stomach. And the sound of Warren's short nail tapping against the glass, directly over (Y/n)'s picture, had horrid shakes rolling down Clark's spine.

"Is this (Y/n)?"

Oh, so he was going to play that game. Clark deadlocked both his hands behind his back like this was some sort of formal occasion now and his lips pressed so tightly together that his teeth almost started to cut through them.

He wanted to play along. Clark wanted to play this game of pretend and see how far Warren would take it, because he was clearly going to try and feign to Clark that he didn't know (Y/n) and that there had been nothing between them.

Did he want this dinner to go ahead? Did he want to see (Y/n) sat opposite him at the table and see how long she could stomach being in his presence? Was that his idea of torture? Well it wasn't going to happen. Clark wasn't going to put (Y/n) through that, he wasn't having Warren setting his beady little eyes on her at all. He was leaving sooner than he thought.

"Yeah." His response was sharp and he gave a little tick of his head while his lips quirked into a smile that resembled a bent line.

"She's cute, not what I expected." Of course not. Of course the girl in the picture hadn't been who Warren was expecting. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that his new acquaintance would be dating his ex girlfriend. He hadn't predicted something so wild but a sinister part of him was clearly happy about this unexpected event.

Warren set down the picture with a nod and began to drum his fingers along the edge of his knees. He seemed ever so slightly uncomfortable, and that was what Clark wanted. He wanted Warren squirming and unsettled and angry before he was kicked to the curb.

"You say that like you've never met her."

The sharp look on Warren's face sent a volt of glee running through Clark's system and he arched a brow as Warren turned in his seat to look up at him. Now the playing field was levelled. He knew Clark knew. He knew he would have to leave now.

"She seen me?" The quirk of Warren's brow was irritating and he ticked his jaw up while his gaze set upon the kitchen.

The way he dragged his hand along his jawline and began to smile caused Clark's hands to itch and tense at his sides and he fought hard to control himself. Standing here with clenched fists and a tense posture would give off the impression he wanted a fight, and Clark didn't want that. Not in his home, not in front of (Y/n).

"Hm. I think you should leave now." Lifting his hand, Clark pointed towards the door while his other hand rubbed at the back of his neck that clicked with the slightest pressure.

It was time for him to leave. This night had gone in the opposite direction to how Clark thought- and hoped- it would go and he wanted it to stop now. Clark wanted this irritation out of his home so he could spend the rest of the night with (Y/n) in his arms while he murmured his continuous apologies.

He took three steps forward until he was stood a pace in front of the armchair, beside the sofa, and his pointed gaze burned into Warren almost as much as his laser vision would have. But he wasn't expecting the response he got.

"Why?"

"Are you serious?" Clark almost managed a smile when he heard that. Did he really have to ask why they wanted him to leave? Was it not obvious? "Listen, if I'd of known who you were, I wouldn't have invited you round. You really think we can sit and play friends now I know you're her ex?"

Both arms moved to fold over his chest and his hand scratched at his chin as he stared down at Warren with unyielding, burning eyes. The way his arms flexed and tensed made them strain against his shirt and his hand clenched his other bicep to try and steel his expression and keep himself calm. He knew (Y/n) was listening to every word.

If it wasn't bad enough that Clark had found out in this way what he had unwittingly done, Warren really thought they would all sit and play dinner parties with each other. He thought Clark would be able to hold his tongue and play nice when he knew just some of the things Warren had done to hurt and torment (Y/n).

He thought Clark would be able to smile or eat or drink and have a good time knowing he was sitting at the same table, breathing the same air as someone like Warren. And he thought (Y/n) would be able to look him in the eye and be within close proximity of him. If he really imagined this then he was insane.

"So it might be a bit awkward between me and her, doesn't mean we can't still have a drink. Or will she not let you do that?" The smirk on Warren's face was almost frightening and he pushed up from the chair so he too was standing, but he wasn't close to reaching Clark's height.

A chuckle vibrated deep within Clark's chest and he rolled his eyes. That was a cheap joke, especially when Clark knew that while (Y/n) had dated Warren, he had been the one pulling the strings and doing his best to control her and put her in metaphorical shackles.

"That's funny, and here I thought it was you who broke her phone and checked all her messages and calls."

The smile on Warren's face morphed into a snarl and his shoulders rolled and stretched like he had been challenged and was trying to rise to the occasion.

Yeah, Clark knew all about that. (Y/n) might not have told him everything, but she had told him a handful of the bad things he had done. Clark knew that once, when Warren started to get obsessive and controlling, he had snatched (Y/n)'s phone from her to check her messages.

He had often been convinced that she was cheating on him, that if she was messaging or calling someone then it had to be a lover rather than a friend. She hadn't been allowed to talk to anyone who he didn't know and he wanted to see exactly what she was typing. He threw her phone at the wall once during one of his moods.

"What else has she told you? That she got me fired from my job, did she mention that?" His top lip twitched as he stepped closer until he was almost nose to chin with Clark who felt angered rather than intimidated.

This is exactly what Clark didn't want to happen. A fight. A match, a test of boundaries and knowledge and insults being thrown back and forth with (Y/n) caught in the middle. But something within Clark was stopping him from backing down and holding his breath. Something was telling him to keep talking, not to bait him but to put him down. He couldn't just step back and tell Warren to get out of his home, he was too angry to do that.

"That tends to happen when you're charged with assault." Before he could stop himself, Clark reached out and gave Warren a light shove in the shoulder.

It wasn't much, less than an eighth of Clark's full power and potential that could have tossed Warren through the window at the opposite end of the apartment. But it was enough to have Warren stumbling back and crashing the back of his knee into the arm of the chair.

He knew. Clark knew Warren had assaulted (Y/n), that he had hit and lashed out at her which was the reason she walked out on him so briskly. It was the one time he had been physical during their relationship and it was what drove (Y/n) out. But it wasn't the last time Warren had tried to hurt her, far from it.

The mechanical laugh that left Warren's shaking head riled Clark's blood and the click and tutting of his tongue was enough to make Clark growl.

He jabbed his finger into Clark's chest, doing well to hide his unease at Clark's muscular build. "I'm sure you know how rough she likes it-"

The air within Warren's lungs evaporated on the spot when Clark's fist curled around the collar of his shirt. With just one hand, Clark yanked him closer and lifted his arm until Warren's heels were raised from the floor and the toes of his shoes were barely scraping the floor.

"A black eye and bruised ribs don't really count as hickeys in my book. Now you get out before you find out how rough I like it. Trust me, you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Clark's upper lip curled like a rabid dog about to snarl and he heaved each breath through his flaring nostrils as he stared down at the person in front of him who he was already beginning to despise.

When he realised he was holding Warren up high enough that he was barely touching the floor, he let go of his shirt and watched him hit the floor with a thud that echoed around the room and sent Warren's legs shaking in his shoes. He looked intimidated, and Clark had a feeling that it was something that didn't happen all too often. And that thought made him gleeful.

Tension rippled across Warren's frame and had him rolling his shoulders to try and brace himself and keep some sense of composure that he was finding it hard to maintain. He looked like he wanted to argue, to rebut and continue this argument that, but there wasn't much else that he could say.

Trying to taint Clark wasn't going to work because he had already proven that this fight would be his with one punch, it wouldn't do either of them any good to get into a brawl right here and now.

And when Clark menacingly stepped forward and pointed to the door, echoing a darkened "Out." through gritted teeth, Warren surprisingly obliged.

He turned on his heels, grunting and shaking his head as he aimed for the door, the heels of his shoes stomping and clacking against the wooden floor as he went. He slammed the door behind him so loudly that the wall seemed to shake and the apartment cowered at his absence. But he was gone and if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't be back here.

Clark could feel an unsettling amount of rage coursing through him like the force of a river flowing towards the open sea. His hands flexed, fingers curling, straining and stretching like it would somehow make him feel better and rid this feeling from deep within his bones.

He tore the glasses from the bridge of his nose with wavering tension and tossed them on the side table.

Why did he bother going into that coffee shop at all last week? Why didn't he just get a cup of the bland paint stripper coffee that was served in the shop on the ground floor of the Daily Planet? Things would have been a lot simpler and calmer if he never bumped into Warren that day and carried out a conversation with him.

Why did it have to be (Y/n)'s ex of all people who he started to make friends with? What kind of sick twist in fate was this? How was it fair on her?

He was so caught up in letting the rage within him overpower him that he didn't hear (Y/n) walking up behind him.

He almost jumped out of his skin when her arms bound around his middle and he felt her face merging into his back between his shoulder blades. Each breath she took fanned against his shirt and spread a prickling heat through his skin and up the back of his neck. Her touch was enough to stop his nails from piercing through into his palms and to loosen the tension that was building up within him.

Reaching down, Clark cupped his hands over the top of (Y/n)'s wrists where her hands were scrunching up his shirt to the point she almost tore free a button over his abdomen.

"Are you okay?" He tried to look over his shoulder, to glance down at her but the way she was huddled against the centre of his back against his spine meant he could barely see her. Only a strand of loose hair came into his view, and that simply wasn't enough.

He shifted around in her tight embrace, moving his arms to curve them loosely around the back of her shoulders.

"Thank you." (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to look up at Clark, not yet, so she hummed the words against his chest and meshed her nose through his shirt near to his skin. The scent of his cologne filling her nose and making her muscles turn loose like jelly.

This wasn't how the night was supposed to play out and although (Y/n) never wanted Clark to bump into Warren under any circumstance, she certainly didn't want it to happen like this.

"You don't have to thank me, it's my fault he was even here in the first place." By making Warren leave, Clark was only undoing the mess he had created by inviting him over, albeit without knowing who he truly was. It had still been a mistake that he had to set right.

But (Y/n) ignored his comment, turning to press her cheek against his chest while she tightened her arms around him and hummed. "Jimmy was right, having a protection scheme in place is a good idea. Thanks for being that protection, Clark."

The implications behind her words and the way she said his name was enough to have Clark's mind short-circuiting and sending him dizzy and quaking in his socks.

It wasn't often that he heard (Y/n) saying his name when they weren't at work, he was so used to hearing nicknames and pet names in private that hearing his name almost made him feel like he had done something wrong. But it was quite the opposite. She was thanking him, and telling him that he didn't always have to be Superman to protect people.

Clark Kent was just as good of a protector as Superman.

***

With a shake of her head, (Y/n) ignored the pleading look on Jimmy's face and instead turned her attention to Lois, frowning when she saw the very same glint in her eyes that was reflecting in Jimmy's orbs.

"No." (Y/n) folded her arms over her chest this time and began impatiently tapping her foot against the floor, waiting for the elevator to stop and let them all out. It was lunchtime and they were going out for something to eat.

And while they were at it, both Jimmy and Lois were trying to bait (Y/n) into collaborating on the new lead they got which was sure to be a 'major headline'. But (Y/n) didn't want to, she didn't have time to join in on their wild goose chase when she had two separate pieces she had to finish, edit and then send in for tomorrow.

"If you two want to go dumpster diving, feel free but I'm not joining in."

The elevator chimed like a church bell and (Y/n) felt like her stomach was going to try and echo a growl in response as if to show how long they had been suffering that ride down ton the ground floor. None of them had any idea where they were going for lunch, but it had to be close by because they were all starving and lunch breaks didn't last very long in their line of work.

And (Y/n) needed to pick up something for Clark too so she could bring lunch back to his desk for him. When he got engrossed in a story, Clark often forgot about needing to eat and lost track of time. Usually (Y/n) would either coerce him into leaving his desk to come and get some food or on days like today, she would leave him in his little bubble of work and set some food down on the desk. She could guarantee that once Clark realised someone had brought him food, he would take a break and eat to be polite and happily realise that he was indeed starving.

"We don't want to, but if that's what it takes to get this story," Lois trailed off, her implications clear as she smiled and quickened her pace to be in step with (Y/n).

The three of them made their path around the corner and through reception that was buzzing with life. People aiming in different directions, flashing their badges and finding their key fobs to work the elevators and get to the right floor for their department.

Sometimes it was unbelievable to realise just how many people worked for one paper, how many articles had to be written and edited each night ready for the next day's assignments. And the three of them were only a tiny portion of what made up that paper, they were but a few blotted words, one in a million that changed with each passing day.

"Well I think that-"

Whatever else Jimmy began to say went in one ear and out the other for (Y/n). Her steps fell out of rhythm with theirs until her shoes were glued to the freshly waxed floor and her hand was clinging to her bag so much that her nails began to pierce through the leather handle on her shoulder.

Her eyes fixated on the reception desk, that large circular block in the middle of the floor with at least five different people working there to direct people to different departments and deal with different issues.

There were a few people leant up against the desk, chatting away and finding information from the receptionists, but there was only one person that caught (Y/n)'s eye.

Warren.

Why was he here? What did he think he was doing?

When (Y/n) started at this paper, she knew it was a risk to have her name at the bottom of the column, and not for the same reason as everyone else. Not because writing a risqué piece might make people upset or vengeful or because people might start sending threats to her here at the office.

But because Warren could read the paper and recognise her name, then it would be crystal clear where she worked and there was nothing stopping him from turning up here. Her address might not be printed in the paper, but this was her place of work and Warren could be just as ruthless and destroying here as he could if he turned up at her home.

There wasn't an alternative either, because it wasn't fair if (Y/n) had to use an alias or change her name on print simply because Warren might see and decide to torment her. She deserved to have her name beneath the articles she wrote and published, the same as everybody else here at the Daily Planet.

"You good?" Lois glanced over her shoulder with narrowing eyes when she realised that (Y/n) had lost pace with them and was now rooted to the spot a couple of steps behind them. She backtracked, along with Jimmy, to stand closer to (Y/n) who looked panicked up close.

She almost took a step back when she watched Warren's expression light up like a Christmas tree once his eyes landed on her. She should have kept walking. She should have dragged Lois and Jimmy to the exit before Warren had chance to turn around and lock his eyes onto her.

"There she is." Warren's smile was sickly sweet as he pointed in (Y/n)'s direction.

He had been trying to get the receptionist to ring (Y/n)'s office phone upstairs but because she had been on her way down, there hadn't been any answer. And security couldn't let just anybody up to the offices without confirmation of who they were here to see and why. He had been stuck down here trying his luck to get close to her.

This kind of thing was why all the elevators had fob keys and why people had to scan their work ID badges to get past reception. Or else anyone could wander in and start causing chaos and making demands, especially if they got threats or people trying to force their agendas onto the front page news.

When Warren stepped closer, (Y/n) felt the desperate need to step back but she couldn't start doing that or she would back herself up against a wall. Just how it always used to start.

"You know him?" There was caution in Jimmy's voice as he looked the stranger up and down, clearly not impressed or intrigued with what he was seeing.

"He's my ex." It was like her words were sour grapes as Jimmy's nose scrunched up and his lips curled like there was a vile taste in his mouth he wanted rid of. He and (Y/n) had often found themselves ranting and raving and generally talking about their past dating history, Jimmy about all the strange dates he had been on. And (Y/n) spoke about the few dates she used to have, and a little about Warren.

But a little was enough for Jimmy to know that he didn't like this guy. Much the same as when (Y/n) first opened up to Clark about what she had gone through with Warren and Clark was sure that if he ever crossed paths with her ex, he would be throwing fists.

"Why are you here?" Her eyes burned holes into him with deep glares and a fierce expression with her lips sealed shut into a straight line. And when he dared to step closer and try to reach out for her, (Y/n) bound both arms around her chest and twisted to the side so he couldn't touch her.

He didn't have the right to be here. He didn't have the right to try talking to her and approaching her like this. Hadn't Warren learned anything from the other week with Clark? Hadn't he realised by now that (Y/n) didn't want to be near him and that Clark would lose his well controlled temper if he was around Warren at all?

"To see you," He spoke as if it was the most casual yet obvious thing in the world, and that infuriated (Y/n). And her skin started to overheat when she watched him smile and glance his eyes around, as if he were taking in their surroundings and Lois and Jimmy were invisible to him. "Where's farm boy?"

At the mention of Clark, (Y/n) glanced her eyes down and took a deep breath. She didn't want to involve Clark in this, she really didn't, but last week when dinner had gone so horribly wrong, (Y/n) had peeked around the door. She watched the altercation between Clark and Warren, and she saw how intimidated Clark made him.

And Warren wasn't the type of person to be intimidated easily. Clark might just be enough of a threat to get Warren to leave and understand that he couldn't start doing this.

"Clark… Clark," (Y/n) muttered his name under her breath, trying to be quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear her but just verbal enough that Clark would zone in on her voice.

She hoped he wasn't too focused on his current article to hear his name. His hearing was brilliant he could hear conversations in almost every apartment in his building, though he had mastered the ability to zone them out by now. And if anyone ever called out for Superman, they could bet that he would hear them.

The last thing (Y/n) wanted to do was drag Clark down here and involve him in this, but she didn't see any other choice.

Her hand moved to the back of her neck and she pierced her nails sharply into the skin to try and calm herself down.

If they tried to walk out the building, they would be giving Warren his chance to follow them and bother them. No one in the street would stop him and they would have to call the police to get him to leave them alone. But if they stayed here, (Y/n) knew he would cause such a commotion that security would become involved and a scene would break out. Neither option seemed viable.

"Come on-"

"Seriously you have some nerve… and no brain." Lois shook her head as a rather disgusted look flooded her face when she looked Warren up and down. Her arm looped through the crook of (Y/n)'s elbow and she tried to tug to get them all to continue with their day and leave.

But as (Y/n) suspected, when the three of them started to walk away, Warren followed behind them like a shadow causing (Y/n) to swallow down a groan. She uttered Clark's name in a sharp whisper one more time before she stopped walking.

"He'll follow us." (Y/n) tried to look towards security so Jimmy and Lois would understand. If they wanted to go, they would have to inform security that Warren was bothering them so they could try and detain him long enough for the group to hurry out and get out of his sight.

"Look, you don't have reason to be here so do us a favour and go or we'll get security."

Warren seemed annoyed rather than intimidated and the way he flexed his hands at his sides and began to curl his fingers made (Y/n)'s skin crawl and had her stomach churning and pulling inwards. It was like he was gearing up for a fight, and maybe in his mind, he was.

"I'm here for (Y/n), not the secretaries. Why don't you come with me?" If words could cut, (Y/n) knew she would have slash marks appearing on her skin.

Shivers broke out on her skin and she tried to step back when Warren stretched a calloused hand forward and tried to grab hold of her. She felt Lois's arm tightening in the crook of her elbow as if to make sure they didn't get separated. And Jimmy stepped forward, seemingly caught between wanting to smack Warren away and wanting to pull (Y/n) to some sense of safety.

"Where are we going?"

A gasp tore past (Y/n)'s lips, her shoulders coiling upwards in defence and she watched Warren jump back, his arm retreating from trying to snatch hold of her wrist. Lois shivered at her side and Jimmy emitted a funny kind of noise, his hand rushing to press to his chest over his heart that was pounding so fast in his chest he thought he was suffering a heart attack.

"Jesus Kent!" Jimmy scolded, looking up to see Clark stood behind the three of them.

None of them felt him walking up behind them. They hadn't heard his approaching footsteps or seen him exit the lift or even the stairwell. When they left the office, he had been immersed in his writing, fingers clicking away on his laptop. They didn't know he noticed they left.

Shakily, (Y/n) let her shoulders lean back until she was pressing back into Clark and she felt his hand curling protectively around her shoulder.

He heard her.

He heard her quietly uttering his name, desperation laced into her tone. Clark heard from all the way upstairs past the tenth floor, he heard (Y/n)'s voice calling out for him and he didn't hesitate to rush down the stairs faster than a normal person. Glad no one bothered taking the stairs anymore so they didn't see him fly past them at the speed of light.

Clark tilted his head to one side, his eyes wide and a calm smile on his face like this was some kind of friendly outing they were all preparing to go on. But he was only talking to Warren. He was trying to intimidate (Y/n) and get her to go somewhere with him- something she would never do- and Clark wanted to know what he thought he was doing and why.

When Warren didn't give any kind of answer or flaking excuse, Clark sighed like he was truly disappointed and he was internally pleased to see that it caused Warren's eyes to twitch and his smile to begin to fade.

Leaning over, Clark hung his head over (Y/n)'s shoulder so he could look down at her. He could feel the way she was shaking against him and how she was clutching Lois's arm like she needed something to ground herself.

"Do you want to go somewhere with him?" It was almost a rhetorical question, but it was clear enough. If (Y/n) said no, then Warren had his answer and Clark had all he needed to assure him that he could use force if necessary to get Warren out of here.

(Y/n) shook her head, holding back a whimper when Warren huffed and folded his arms over his chest like he was somehow disappointed. But when she felt Clark carefully wedging himself between her and Jimmy to step forward, her hands reached out for his bicep.

They were at work. Warren was a nuisance, they didn't need to start anything with him, they could just call for security and step away. (Y/n) didn't want Clark to have to make a scene in front of everyone, especially when everyone at work knew him as the quiet, cheesy guy who would never start an argument, let alone a fight.

Reaching up, Clark pushed the glasses a bit further up the bridge of his nose before he squared his shoulders and moved his hands to his hips. He could still feel (Y/n)'s hand around his tense bicep and the touch was soothing and comforting. She was keeping him grounded, keeping him from wanting to use his strength and power to drag Warren out of here by his greasy hair.

"You can walk out of here on your own, or with security. How dignified you want to be is up to you, but you are leaving."

"She's got you wrapped around her finger." Warren clearly wasn't expecting Clark to laugh. He leaned back, his smile fading as a wave of intimidation washed over him.

Clark couldn't deny it, and he never would. Of course (Y/n) had him around her finger, she had his heart in her hands and he gave it willingly; he never wanted it back. He loved her to the ends of the universe and he would do anything for her. That was clear to anyone and everyone who knew or even looked at them. Clark was whipped and he loved it. Hearing it from someone like Warren didn't make him embarrassed or shy away from it.

"That's what love does. Now if you don't leave my girlfriend alone, I'll have to have words with my sources and have them deal with you, so turn around and disappear."

In a bout of bravery, Clark reached his hand forward and gave Warren a shove in the shoulder. It wasn't much, just like back at the apartment when he pushed him. No force, no proper strength at all because if Clark shoved him with all of his strength then Warren would be in another city by now or pummelled down into the ground.

It was enough to have Warren stepping back and wavering on his heels, body shifting to the left from the shove.

"Your sources?" He snorted, but his voice was wavering and he was already taking steps back when Clark started to walk forward. He would do this dance, he would walk Warren straight to the doors if that was what it took to get rid of him.

"Don't you read the paper? The Daily Planet gets exclusive interviews with Superman."

And then the colour began to drain from Warren's features. This was the only paper in town that got interviews and exclusives with the one and only hero. This was where his word got spread and his picture got taken. These were the only journalists who ever got to see and speak to Superman- (Y/n) and Clark being the only two, of course.

Clark had no problem at all with finding Warren one evening whilst in his suit and cape and putting the fear of God into him. He would do anything he could to keep (Y/n) safe and keep this pest of a human away from her.

But he had a feeling that he wouldn't need to go to such extreme lengths. Being Clark Kent was intimidating enough. He was protection enough for her.

[fruit-snacker]

Noooo I ran out of tags:( the tag limit is a crime all of the previous also applies to this reblog

Okay I am back from the ii bfdi meetup

This blog is a spoiler free zone

No spoilers will be posted or rebloged or put in the tags until the episodes are public

However, this post SPECIFICALLY may have spoilers in the tags (though i will keep it mostly spoiler free, certain reactions to certain characters might be considered spoilers)

This will be tagged as spoilers but not maintagged so im not annoying anyone

I just need somewhere to voice my excitement

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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