#how to build core strength from nothing

[healthzenith]

5 Essential Exercises for Core Strength

Having a strong core is about more than just getting those coveted six-pack abs (though that’s a nice bonus!). Your core is essential for almost every movement you make. It helps in sitting up straight. It is crucial for lifting heavy objects. It even supports maintaining good posture. A stronger core means better balance, stability, and power. And the good news? You don’t need to spend hours…

[technicallyhappyarcade]

How to Incorporate Strength Pilates Exercise into Your Fitness

"Strength Pilates Exercise" is a dynamic fitness regimen that combines the core-strengthening principles of Pilates with the benefits of resistance training. This holistic approach to fitness enhances muscular strength, flexibility, and overall body tone. Through controlled movements and mindful breathing, Strength Pilates Exercise not only builds a strong core but also targets various muscle groups, promoting balance and stability. It's an ideal choice for individuals seeking a comprehensive workout that improves posture, reduces the risk of injury, and increases overall vitality. Whether you're a fitness enthusiast or a beginner, Strength Pilates Exercise offers a low-impact yet highly effective path to achieving a leaner, stronger, and more resilient body.

[tiramissyoucake]

Escape attempt gone wrong (not clickbait)(my husband gets pissed?!?!)

Viltrumite Mark x fem reader, forced marriage, the whole shabang, I know nothing about Viltrum♡ word vomitted, lame fade to black scene because idk how to end this

You see a few ships zip by your windows on some days, you know they don't need ships, so a lot of them were dormant in landing zones.

"What're you thinking about?" Your husband's hands snaked onto your shoulders as his voice reached your ear, a small smile on his face.

"... nothing, I'm just wondering why you have ships since Viltrumites can fly." You noted, Mark hummed. "... honestly? I can't tell you either, maybe it's for longer journeys or cargo." He kissed your cheek gently. "Why? Planning to take one on a joy ride?"

The idea was tempting. "Don't be ridiculous," you scoffed. "I can't fly those."

Later that night, a formal meeting between a few powerful Viltrumites you didn't care about busied Mark and a majority of your guards have turned in for the night, you were left to your own devices in a big bedroom stockpiled with gifts from every corner of the galaxy.

You tossed and turned, sleeping early didn't help. You were restless, you've been restless since you've been demanded to remain in one building and one building only. It infuriated you, your supposed husband most likely saw you as a reward for decimating a planet and not a living being with autonomy.

You sat up, glancing aside to the empty space next to you. He had some nerve, locking you up then leaving to play emperor like this, anywhere else in the galaxy would be better now.

... 'anywhere else' wasn't impossible.

. . .

"You need to mind your manners," Nolan scolded as Mark left the room the 'conference' was held in. "I know you're doing a good job in power, but that doesn't mean you can disrespect your seniors."

"I don't respect those who don't respect me." Mark spoke, his tone grated through gritted teeth. "All I want to do is get this stupid cape off me and see my wife."

Nolan restrained an eye roll, the human pet. "You're too attached to that human, what do you see in her anyway?"

"Everything. She's kind, interesting, she sees me beyond my strength, it's like..." he let out a sigh, holding back a shiver from showing, the sigh almost sounded lovesick. "It's like she sees right through me to my core, sees me for who I am, not what I am."

Gag. His father ignored the romance ramble. "You'll learn to see her as a tool for the good of the empire."

Mark rolled his eyes, parting ways at a hallway. "I'm going to bed, I neglected her enough." He didn't wait for a 'goodnight' or any last comments from his father as he left.

The grand doors to the bedroom creaked open, nothing changed. Your body under the sheets, gifts untouched and floors clean, he let out a sigh of relief as he threw aside the cape, loosening the collar of his clothes. "Are you awake?" His voice was soft compared to the usual commanding tone. "I missed you, dear.."

He came to his side of the bed. "I've been waiting to—"

Pillows. Not your peaceful sleeping figure. A stack of pillows. Confusion flooded his head as he got up.

"... oh, oh! Haha! very funny, love." He looked around. "You can come out now!" He waited for a beat, eyes glancing around for any movement.

None, nothing, not even a shuffle. Panic tingled at his fingertips, as he tugged the sheets off the bed, rapidly looking under the bed his eyes darted around the room. His heart raced, looking in any and every compartment that you could possibly squeeze into.

The room grew into a mess but he couldn't care less, sweat coated his forehead from the frenzy of pure panic. "You're not here." He finally admitted to himself, his heart pounding.

Silently cursing the meeting in his head, he sped off to collect whoever he can from guards or staff to form a search party, you couldn't have gone far. Humans were weak, vulnerable, he'll find you. He'll find you. He'll find you.

. . .

You held the cloak you found in the back of the closet close to your chest, you didn't know if Viltrumites recognised you but you wouldn't risk it, but your feet hurt as you ran through the unfamiliar structures.

The hallways were empty, the doors were loose. It was a miracle. You got a chance to leave this nightmare of a marriage, you had no clear idea on where you'd be headed, but you heard stories of galaxy nomads and travellers making ends meet and surviving! You're a smart person, you've got common sense. How hard could it be..?

The landing zone. You just needed to get to the landing zone.

A gasp escaped you, you heard a few barks of commands. "Spread out! She couldn't have gone far!"

You needed to get to that landing zone.

Keep low, keep hidden. You repeated that in your head as you ran, you thought you'd never get there or that you may have gotten lost, then the landing zone came into view, you saw a few ships and suddenly, hope seemed within your reach.

The search party seemed too focused on the buildings and structures, you thanked whatever architect decided to put that place outside of populated areas, the shouting dwindled, turning more distant as you got closer.

You tossed the hood off seeing a few Viltrumites guarding a gate, spotting you as you closed in, they grew confused. "Your imperial majesty? What happ—"

"Open the gates!!" For the first time, you commanded them. "Open them, now!!"

They had no choice but to listen, the gates opened and your heart almost pounded out of your chest. The ships lined up and their states were clear, maintenence, maintenence, offline, maintenence, offline, reserved, offline, reserved.

Finally, 'Ready'.

You could hear the shouting return, but you didn't care, the ship took you in so easily and you could see a new life for yourself outside of this miserable planet, now you just need to learn how to get the controls to listen to you.

It was quiet inside the ship, save for the rapid button clicking and switch flicking from you, everything was coming to life in the ship's mechanics, you held onto the yoke of the ship as you saw the landscape shift, it would levitate off the ground soon.

. . .

He saw it in the distance, hovering high over the empire he saw a ship start to levitate, he knew about every ship, item and living being that entered and left Viltrum.

"No. No. Nononono." His body moved, launching him to the landing zone area with his fists clenched ready to tear through metal.

Mark mumbled to himself as he closed the distance quickly, angered at your audacity to try to escape him.

. . .

Freedom was on the horizon, you were out of here, out of this nightmare. Your hands readjusted repeatedly on the yolk as the ship moved.

A booming sound caused you to whip your head to the back of the ship, your heart dropped seeing an indent in the metal.

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" You never heard Mark's voice reach that level of volume, the pounding continued. "COME OUT!"

You stood your ground, even as the fear of what he might do if he gets you caused your hands to tremble and your heart to race quickly, you repeatedly tapped a few buttons, didn't this stupid ship have thrusters or whatever?!

An alarm blared, one meant to let a pilot know the ship wouldn't listen, you had a feeling it had to do with more rumbling from below, curse his monstrous strength, you heard a piercing noise, followed by a grating, screeching noise. He was peeling the metal with his bare hands.

"You'd rather DIE in the cold of the galaxy? You despise me to THAT extent?!" He screeched at the top of his lungs, the ship sparking after he destroyed its engine from the outside and it's structure being torn apart.

Your hands rapidly tried to find any button that could reverse or override the damage. "Please," you mumbled as if the ship could hear you. "Please work, please! I can't stay here..!"

"(NAME)!! TURN THIS SHIP OFF!! NOW!!"

His yelling scared you, you gripped a lever and before you knew it, a flury of sparks flew from the control panel, so powerful it almost knocked you out, but the ship being pummeled back to the ground beat the sparks to it, the tilt of the ship causing you to fall out the pilot's chair and hit your head on the way down to the ship's floor.

Your head hurts, your heart hurts, are you going to die on this ship? You didn't want to succumb to the pounding in your head, you were scared you'd wake up chained or worse. A burning sensation collected at the point of impact on your head.

The ship was useless now, Mark made sure of it, the engine being destroyed in an instant, tugging the metal back until there was enough of an opening for him to slip through, he bent his head down to enter the ship. its lights flickering off, he looked up with a piercing glare, a scowl on his lips and eyebrows furrowed, his knuckles were reddened from the sheer force of his strikes against the metal.

It was quiet for a moment as he watched the consciousness slip away from you, his footsteps that approached you quiet compared to the powerful banging of his fists from seconds ago.

"You've got some nerve." He started, a look of anger, sadness, frustration and heartbreak in his eyes. "You think it's that easy, don't you?"

Black spots formed in your vision, your expression was one he couldn't dissect, it pissed him off more, and he knew he'd still take care of that bump on your head after bringing you back home.

It doesn't matter, he'd indulge in his win for now and seethe about the insolence after. And right when he thought you were becoming more obedient too.

"I'm not letting you go." Mark stated to make the situation clear to your fuzzy state of mind, "Not now. Not ever. I'll make sure of it."

[nympheagain]

Pairing: Clark Kent x Camgirl!Reader

Summary: In which Clark Kent has a dirty secret. And it just so happens to be you.

W/c: 3.5k

Tags: Smut, Clark edges himself, sub!Clark i think, exhibitionist!reader, clark is a yearner (naturally), not edited

A/n: I have finals next week but I cannot stop thinking about Clark Kent. I need that man. Under me. Now.

Also i wrote like half before tumblr decided to fuck me over so don't mind the kinda lazy ending (screaming on the inside)

The job scene was almost as barren as your love life, you think. It’d been two months now. Two months without a job. Two months of endless interviews and questions and scrutiny. You were sick of it. Tired. You’d resign to stripping soon, but you reckon you don’t even have the core strength for that either.

You’d begun to wonder if you’d ever be able to put your journalistic education to use.

But then, a beacon. A light in the sea of darkness. Right there on your 7 year old MacBook Air. A flashing sign: MAKE UP TO 6000 DOLLARS A MONTH FROM HOME!

You scoffed at the idea of it, but something in the back of your head told you to just click on the link. And so after praying that you wouldn’t install a million viruses onto your beloved ancient device, you did.

- - -

Clark Kent was noble. He was humble. He picked up litter he didn't throw on the way to work. He ordered coffee for everyone on the floor, even when he was late. When in his red and blue suit, he rescued kittens for little children and put out burning buildings. He was good. In the very sense of the word, he was good.

But Clark Kent had a dirty secret.

A filthy indulgence. One no one else knew about.

He'd stumbled onto the site accidentally whilst formulating a dating profile that Lois and Jimmy had coerced him into. Much too sheltered, they'd called him. Need a good fuck, they'd said.

As he was filling in hobbies and interesting things about him and whatnot (superman identity excluded), he'd accidentally clicked on an advertisement for some sketchy site. In the midst of fumbling with his laptop trying to shut the off the sudden cacophony of moans and whimpers, he'd scrolled down onto your page.

And there you were. Like an angel among devils, soft thighs plush in some work tights as you greeted the camera, supple voice tingling in his ears as you worked your way out of your work clothes.

They were nothing special. Just some black tights, a midi skirt and a white shirt. Classic. Something he'd seen hundreds of women in Metropolis don. But there was something about the way your hands grabbed at the cloth.

They way you peeled them off. Fingers in no rush to unbutton your top. Clark was entranced. Now his Ma had taught him to never objectify women, and his Pa had showed him how to be a true gentleman. So why couldn't he click off?

Mesmerising wasn't even the way to describe it. It was like he was in a trance. Sucked into the black hole that was your stream. Your pull too gravitational to allow him to blink, nevermind move his fingers to click off.

So he watched. Like a dog watches a bone. He didn't move, didn't unzip his pants, didn't reach to stroke himself. He just watched as you did your thing. As you moved your hands. He memorized the way you touched yourself. The way your breath hitched and your back arched.

Your face covered meticulously by a masquerade mask, plush lips held into a pout as you blinked at the camera.

“Had three interviews today, and not one call back.” You sigh, shifting back into your bed. You lean against the pillows, head falling back as you trace your body with your fingers.

You pause. Just for a beat. Then, you sit back up and crawl towards the camera. “I don’t know. Do you think I deserve to cum today?” And Clark feels like you're talking just to him, but the rapid influx of comments are proof that you’re not.

Jonny6inch: of course you do, sexy

Needsasubby: yes, cum for us

Anonymous69: please, need to see it

You hum, happy with the collective decision. Clark feels his pants tighten. He’s sweating, and his heart is beating abnormally fast compared to his usual alien physiology.

You’ve still got those stupid tights on, and Clark is torn between wanting them ripped off and licking you right through them. Your legs are parted as you rub slow circles on your clit, and it’s both not enough and too much for him at the same time.

When the live stream ends, Clark feels like he's walking on air as he clicks the big red SUBSCRIBE button. He grins at the username he chooses for himself, partly because it’s so stupidly obvious, and partly because no one one would ever suspect it was actually him.

After all, what would Boy Scout Superman be doing on a site like this?

---

After that, it becomes a ritual.

Slow and steady. After long days at the Planet, he's kicking off his shoes and clicking on your latest stream, cock neglected and rock hard in his pants as he watches you with careful intent. Like he's studying you.

One weekend, you stream wearing nothing but a baby tee with the superman logo and soft blue cotton panties. He almost comes untouched.

Truth is, Clark aches to touch himself. He's been so hard recently it's becoming difficult to hide. He thinks of you in especially inappropriate circumstances, having to hunch over himself in the newsroom meetings when his mind wanders to the way you hiss when your fingers finally come in contact with your cunt. He glares at his bulge in the bathroom whenever he remembers the small whimpers that leave your mouth when you're close.

He aches to pull them out of you.

You're becoming so distracting that Clark doesn't even realise when he runs head first into the new hire, almost knocking her down with his comically gigantic frame.

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry," He's murmuring, voice surprisingly soft for someone so large.

You smile up at him, shaking your head dismissively. "Ah no worries, I’m very easy to bump into.”

He laughs at that. Loud and deep chested. Like he means it. It makes something inside of you twinge.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Clark Kent." You shake his hand, watching the way it engulfs yours.

Clark is unsurprisingly sweet. To everyone. He includes you in his morning coffee runs, somehow having memorised your order despite having mentioned it once. He reads your drafts, singing your praises whenever one of your articles hits front page. He makes you feel. Things that you don't know how to describe. Almost homely. Like you've always known Clark. Like he's someone you'd go home to. Cook a dinner with. Sleep next to and smile at the sound of his snores.

It was a scary feeling to have. Firstly, because you have no idea if he'd ever feel the same way, and secondly, because you swore off relationships after a particularly nasty one that had you questioning much about both yourself and the state of the world.

And Clark was such a gentleman. What would he think of your...side job? It was truly less of a job and more of a hobby at that point. You'd been paid more than enough to sustain a living by the Planet, but you found a secretive sort of enjoyment in being watched.

In knowing how you made people feel. And oh did they let you know. You'd keep the chat box on during your streams just to let the comments flood in.

woman_lovr469: just like that ma

jacksss112: fuck, you're so hot

deeznutzzz: the things I would do to you

You skim through them, eyes glittering at the thought of all these different people behind the screen, drooling at the sight of you undressing. The power you held hummed underneath your skin.

But then there's one comment. One that stands out among the others. It's less desperate. More raw. Like there was actual intent behind those words. Actual meaning.

superman112: You look gorgeous like that.

You pause. Blinking at the screen. You don't know what to make of it.

"Superman, huh?" You giggle to yourself, imagining the real man with the captial S on his chest making time to watch and comment on your little streams.

"I'd let Superman take me," You muse, mostly to yourself. Clark sits up at that, pants painfully tight as he leans in. But the comments don't seem to like what they're hearing.

jacksss112: he sucks. i could fuck you better than he ever could.

anonymous6969: superman is the worst. he wouldn't know how to handle you.

11incher: i bet his dick is small. that's why he wears his undies on top of the suit.

Clark would protest all of the comments if he wasn't watching you giggle. The sound was like water to the fire he didn't know you'd set his heart on. He'd take any joke at his expense just to hear you laugh again.

He feels bold. A bit funny. Completely unlike himself.

superman112: Would you like to find out?

When he hears you chuckle, he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt.

---

"Hi Clark!" You're smiling at him, that cute smile that makes his heart ache in a way that he didn't know was possible. He's smiling back, stumbling over himself and almost dropping his coffee.

"Hi," he says sheepishly. You laugh softly. Nothing loud, almost like you hadn't meant for anyone to hear, but Clark had. Of course he had. And he could feel the hairs on his arms rise at the sound of it.

It couldn't be...

Your laugh sounded so familiar. Like silk. Or maybe honey. Like warmth wrapped around him. Images of his masked seductress pop up into the back of his head. There's no way, he dismisses. You were just so different in the office. All bubbly, voice high and jittery, like you'd had one too many coffees. Not like her. All sultry and confident, like she knew exactly what she did to everyone.

Clark felt like a pervert, comparing you to the lady in black. He felt disgusting. He knew it was wrong, but still he couldn’t stop staring at the pout of your lips as you squinted at the screen like it owed you something.

Then he brushes it off. Shakes his head and goes back to writing his article. Because that would be crazy. A huge, crazy, dirty, filthy coincidence.

---

Clark has a once-in-a-blue-moon day off, and he decides to use it to the fullest. He sleeps in for once in his life (wakes up at 9AM), stretches and actually gets to make his own coffee at home. The city is quiet, so his friend in blue and red doesn't even have to make an appearance.

It's peaceful. The day waxes and wanes as he soaks in the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do. But then again... he might as well get some drafts polished up. He was just on his way to do so when a notification popped up on his laptop.

You were online.

Drafts and articles abandoned, Clark carries the laptop with him to bed, setting on top of his thighs as he relaxes and waits for you to begin.

You show up in the frame, one heel off as you trip out the other. You greet the camera, sounding more tired than usual. Suddenly, Clark starts to feel the shame of it all. Of watching you, even though you seem to enjoy being watched. He doesn't want to be confined to just watching. He wants to rub your feet after a long day. He wants to be the one undressing you. He wants to feed you warm food and tuck you in bed and crawl right beneath the sheets next to you.

But that would never happen.

So he remains resigned to watching you from the sidelines. Wishing he'd get to know you. Knowing that it would never happen.

---

It's extremely early in the office when Clark gets in. The sun is yet to rise, and there's no sign of life in the office other than your keyboard clacking away at your cubicle.

You're yawning when he sets a coffee down next to you. You smile up at him, hands reaching towards the warm mug,

"Late night?" He asks.

You blush like you don't know how to answer him. You open your mouth to respond, then close it, deciding to opt for a nod.

He nods back in understanding, heading back to his desk to get an early start on the day. You seem to be murmuring to yourself, eyes locked onto your phone. It rings, and you pick up immediately, whispering your friend's name.

"I'm at work." Clark knows it’s wrong but tune's his hearing onto your conversation anyway.

"Mmm, yeah." You respond.

He strains, but he can't hear what your friend is saying on the other line.

But then:

"Think superman might be following me." You say suggestively, giggling.

He blinks once. Then he blinks again. Because it all comes crashing down at once. The way you draw out the syllables of his alias. Your voice, of course, the sweet syrupy voice he drank up almost every night. How didn't he notice?

Clark Kent has to rush to the bathroom to collect himself. Okay. It was real. This was real. You were real. Not just his coworker. Not just the girl who smiles at him real wide when he brings her a cup of coffee, appreciation never dwindling. Not only the friend who he'd share laughs with over lunch. You were her. The woman who could take him apart without even touching him.

Straight away, Clark knows that he's not going to get much work done today, no matter how early he came in. He spends the rest of the day in the clouds (metaphorically), wondering how he ended up so lucky as to have both his crushes be one person. And also plotting how to get you in his sheets. What?!? He had his… needs.

Now Clark had an even dirtier secret. He got his rocks off to the sight of his coworker touching herself. And she doesn't even know.

Early morning turns to late night at the planet. It's quiet, though there's a certain hum to the building that never quite dies down. The lights are dimmed, and the last of the stragglers are packing their things up to head home. The only two cubicles with their overhead lights on are yours and Clarks.

You had no doubt he was working hard on another front page article. And your source, always unreliable, had just gotten you the evidence you needed to nail a LuthorCorp ally for corruption. You'd imagined that you'd be here all night. Your regulars would be waiting for you to start your stream right about now, and you can't say you wouldn't miss unwinding in front of the camera tonight, but you had more important things at hand.

An impulsive thought crosses your mind. You decide to head down real quick and grab a bite for yourself and Clark. Y'know, to repay him for all his kindness.

You rush to the restaurant across from the Planet, ordering your usual and the same order that Clark gets whenever you two come down here. Grabbing the bags and uttering a quick thanks, you head back up to the newsroom.

Clark's still typing away when you make a beeline for his desk, setting the food in front of him and smiling cheekily. His eyes light up at the sight, and you think for a second you see him check you out. You wave it off, crediting the dim lights and the fact that you had gotten 4 hours of sleep last night.

You turn around for a second, reaching back to where you dropped some napkins, bending down to grab them.

Clark gets the final confirmation he needs.

Those tights. The pink panties underneath. He'd recognise those anywhere. The image you stripping them off yourself was burned into his eyelids.

"Let's eat at mine." He blurts out. You whirl round, shocked by the sudden suggestion. By the urgency behind it as Clark packs up his desk.

"You sure?" You ask.

"Yeah, it's not too far from here. And the couch is more comfortable than this stiff chairs." You nod in agreement, walking back to your desk to collect your items.

You're not quite sure what to make of his eyes trailing you. It certainly didn't feel bad, and it had been a while since you'd gotten off with something other than your hands, and Clark Kent was built like a tank, and you were getting ahead of yourself.

---

Clark's apartment looks exactly like how you'd expect. It was neat. It was homely. It was comfy and not clinical like most apartments in metropolis. He had a few photos hung up, and a couple of lamps to give the room some nice lighting.

You head further into the living room, shrugging your shoes off and heading towards the couch. Clark was right, you did need a nice comfy seat.

Then you hear a thud. You turn around, shocked at the sight of Clark in front of you.

He'd dropped to his knees. It's entirely desperate, and you gasp at the sight of your dorky coworker with his eyes blown out. You almost crumble into him when his arms wrap around your waist, face tucking into your stomach.

"You're her." Is all he offers as explanation.

You gulp. Hands at your sides. You try, only for a second, to think of the logistics of the situation. Clark was your coworker. You see each other every day. Think. Be smart. Don't be- ahhh fuck it.

Clark was sniffing you. You don't know whether to call him a pervert or pull his hair. You decide to do both.

He moans into your touch. Still, while appreciative, you wonder what could have triggered this sudden onset of lust.

"Clark," you inquire. "What's this all about?"

He's got a hungry look in his eyes. "Watched you for months," he begins, voice hoarse and lashes wet. "Watched you for months, and didn't touch myself once. Just watched. Fuck, you're so beautiful."

And then you understand. You know who he is. Without even asking, you know who he is.

"Oh, so you're my superman." You scoff slightly, tugging his hair to urge him upwards. He obeys easily.

“Poor baby.” You sigh, hands pushing him backwards onto his couch.

“When’s the last time you’ve been touched, hmm?” He groans, skin wet with a sheen that you can only describe as need. It shocks you. The way it radiates off him. Like he's unashamed, or maybe like he's already felt all the shame there is to feel.

You straddle him, skirt tight around your thighs. You drag your nails down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. He's got his eyes shut tight, and his hands and clasped tightly into fists at his sides. "Clark, open your eyes," you nudge softly.

He does, and the black of his pupils almost swallows his blue irises. You finally finish unbuttoning his shirt, pushing back to encourage Clark to remove the rest of it. You sit back on his thighs, enjoying the look of his glasses pushed to the tip of his nose, his eyes hooded and watching you. The rise and fall of his chest.

You drag your eyes down, down, down to his pants. You place a palm on his bulge, eyes widening at the feeling of it jumping against your touch. “Is this how hard you’d get while watching me undress?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Clark whines. A full fledged, too-far-gone whine.

You decide you can tease him about it later.

Fumbling with his zipper, you're about to stand up to let him take his pants off when he's lifting his thighs up, pulling them off from underneath him like you weighed nothing.

You see his bulge even clearer now, and you'd be intimidated if not for the puppy eyes Clark was currently giving you. It was big, and bigger even when you pulled him out of his boxers.

"Shit, Clark. You just walk around with this in your pants?" He's panting now, hands sitting at your hips, loose as he rubs circles, they tighten on you when you grab his leaking cock, and he hisses when you spit down on it.

You set a rhythm of pumping him, twisting your fist around the base, relishing in his noises, and the way his hips jerk when you thumb at his tip.

“Fuck, does that make you feel good?” You not so sure why you're asking, seeing as the way he was acting told you all you needed to know.

Clark feels dizzy. He thinks he might’ve died and entered heaven. God, you looked like a vision above him.

You look lost in thought, and his cock twitches at the sound of your giggle. Superman, you think. Imagine that. You’re still unaware of his status. He thinks he might have to let superman take you for a ride sometime soon.

You keep at it, eyes locked on his as you listen intently to the squelching sounds filling the room. It almost felt nastier than any time you streamed. More forbidden. You feel heat rising to your cheeks at an idea.

Would your viewers object to a guest star?

---

Can you tell I had fun making up the usernames?

Taglist:

@l1zard-l3ague @needylittleprince @repairheartzz @cosmiiwrites

[rosenclaws]

ok, ok “suck on my fingers.” and “don’t make a mess, baby.” prompt with the worse wolverine? btw i love your words!!!

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, cum eating (kinda? i think thats whats this called idk he just sticks his fingers in ur mouth after fingering)

600 follower drabble masterlist

a/n: I'm gonna be so real I am coping hard rn. I am devastated and worried for the future but if writing wolverine smut is what helps that is what I shall do. I hope you like it!!

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Fuck at this point you'd believe that you've been here for days. Wrapped in his arms. Trapped under his adamantium bone and super human strength. The sheets slip through your fingers as your grip grows weaker. Logan has been teasing you, playing with you like a piece of meat.

Logan is upright against the headboard. He’s got your back against his chest. One of strong arms is keeping you upright. Forcing you to sit there. His other hand is shoved into your panties. He didn’t even bother to take them off.

There’s something playing on the TV in your room but you lost any sense of your surroundings about an hour ago. Logan likes to play with his food. Always has.

Your big hot boyfriend loves to make a mess of things before he eats.

“Oh Fuck Logannnn.” You whine as he slips two of his fingers into your already soaked cunt.

Your panties are soaked from Logan’s touch. He won’t even bother taking them off. He likes the obscene sight of his hands down them. Loves seeing his fingers disappear and watch your cute face scrunch up in pleasure.

You’re trying with all your might to squirm away. Not that you wanted him to stop but the pleasure was overwhelming. Your body was moving without your brain at this point. Pure instinct. Logan growls in your ear. Shoving another finger inside to shut you up.

“Quiet. I’m not done with you yet.” You tilt your neck to the side as Logan’s rough thumb starts to circle your clit harshly.

The sounds of your pleasure are loud and Logan is unashamedly eating them up. His fingers movie faster and faster. Pounding into you with a force that makes you scream. Your dripping down his hands and onto the sheets. Logan tuts and shakes his head mockingly.

“Don’t make a mess baby.” He scolds as he drives his fucking fingers deep inside of you. Fucking liar. He loves when you make a mess. Nothing boosts his ego more.

He feels so good. His fingers are tearing you apart. He’s hell bent on making you come harder than you ever have. He can never get enough. It's like a competition with himself. Making sure you know only he can do this to you over and over. A pressure builds deep in your core and your eyes widen when you feel a certain feeling.

“Logan wait I-“ Your pleas are silenced as another moan rips through your throat.

You chant his name over and over as your legs start to shake. Logan watches in awe as you squirt all over the bed. He doesn't let up as he pulls as much as he can. You're moaning only pushes him further. He's whispering dirty things in your ear but you can barely hear him. Your body is screaming in pure pleasure and its all you can hear.

"Too much." You manage to whimper out as Logan continues to fuck his fingers into you.

He hums and in a moment of mercy decides you've had enough for tonight. Such a good pet. His fingers are coated. He pulls them apart and smirks as he brings them to your lips.

“Come on, suck on my fingers." He coos as you lazily open your mouth. Your perfect pretty lips surrounding his fingers, sucking your own juices from his fingers.

"Taste yourself, see why I can't get enough of this delicious cunt." His eyes grow dark as he watches your lips take his fingers so easily. You look up with glossy eyes. Completely fucked out because of him.

"Cute." He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you closer. His fingers slip out of your mouth and he dips back down into your soaked underwear. You whine when he gently brushes over your sensitive clit.

"Shhh sweetheart," His moves are softer this time, gentle.

"Just relax. Let me get my taste too."

[dcxdpdabbles]

My request for Adoptive son got accidentally posted with a different response and then deleted a while back, so I've come back to see if you're willing to do a little of the Summoned Demon au instead? 🥺 pretty please? I keep hoping it'll come back up and I'm excited haha

Danny flies while blinking through his tears, trying his best to find the giant clown Alex has mentioned. He is unsure what will happen to the police officer's ghost now that he has been captured, and that sends his heart into turmoil.

Every part of his core wanted him to turn around to rescue Alex. It went against his very soul to run, but he could think rationally enough to know that if he did, nothing good would come of it.

At best, he would give Alex enough time to hide inside the building he was anchored to; at worst, both of them would be shipped off to some lab and ripped apart.

No. He couldn't save Alex, and couldn't let his sacerfice to help Danny escape go to waste.

He needed to regroup. Figure out a plan, establish communication, or do something to escape the crazy cultists. It didn't help that they obviously had connections with police who were hunting him down to return him.

Thankfully, Danny has some experience with escaping government bodies. Just as long as he keeps moving and uses his powers wisely, he should be able to find somewhere to catch his breath.

Danny wipes at his eyes, pushing himself to fly faster.

Thanks to his invisibility, no one notices his form fly over their heads. A steady flow of people moves underneath him, going through another mundane day. It's crowded, busy and noisy.

So different from the city of Amity Park. It's a jarring reminder that only this morning, he had been dreading his upcoming math exam, and now he was running for his life.

At least the hook feeling in his navel has lessened. Using Phantom's abilities didn't take as much effort as it did a few hours ago.

Likely, whatever that voice activation cell did was starting to lose effect. Based on how his body responded, it would be two or three hours before he would be back to full strength.

As he finished the thought, Danny felt his body grow heavy, as if a weight was suddenly thrown around his ankles.

With a shout of alarm, Danny plummeted downwards, struggling against the cruel grips of gravity. He felt his invisibility fall away just as he landed face first on the ground between an open of people.

The force of his face has him skitting against the pavement, tumbling over and over as screams from the started civilians echo through the crowd. Danny rolls three times before smacking against a pull, upside down, with his legs folded over near his head.

He groans. "That is going to leave so many bruises."

His healing factor was kicking in already working on easing the aching in his spine and face. Slowly, as to not agitate his wounds, he unfolds, bracing his hands on the ground, and leaps up.

When the world is right, he finds himself standing before a little metal fence separating the street from a restaurant's dining area. The two boys Danny saw at the cult are sitting at the table right in front of him.

They were the ones who were pleading with the other boy who clung to his legs. Danny blinks. "Oh, hello."

The one on the left, a ginger that reminds him surprisingly of Kyle Weston down to his choice of clothes, lets a blood-curdling scream before his eyes roll back into his head in a dead faint. Danny leaps over the fence, catching him before he hits the ground.

The other boy watches like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with absolute terror all over his face. The fork in his white knuckle grip is bending at a strange angle as he makes small whimpers, almost as if he's scared to talk.

Danny carefully sets the one he caught on the ground, ensuring his head is cushioned before tugging at his clothes. He unzips the hoodie the boy was wearing and pulls at his neck collar to ensure it's not bothering his breaking.

Only after ensuring that the boy is breathing correctly does Danny move down to carefully left up his legs, remembering the lessons his father taught him in case he ever witnessed someone faint.

The teenager sitting at the table starts to speak, sounding panicky, but Danny ignores him in favor of placing the Kyle-Wannabe's legs on the chair's cushion. He tugs on the ankles in his hold, making sure it's angled in a way that does not hurt him spin but can allow more blood flow to his head.

"Can someone please call an ambulance?" He demands of the watching crowd only to have the majority of them cower back. He makes a face, causing a waitress to flinch so hard she stumbles over a nearby table.

Right, they can't understand him. He raises his hand above his head, attempting to mimic the ambulance light while speaking slowly. "Am-bu-lance. wee-oww wee-oww?"

A child bursts into tears. Danny drops his hands, letting them hang loosely at his side. The sea of faces surrounding him is all edged with fear, which makes his stomach turn. "None of you understand me. You're scared of me."

"I'm not," A man says, stepping away from the crowd. His transparent body lets him know it's a ghost. That and the dripping cinder block chained to his legs, along with his flouting hair as if though he were underwater, are significant indicators of his death. "You're trying to get him to a hospital?"

"Yes!" Danny points at him, forgetting himself for a moment. The people standing behind the ghost scramble to get out of the path of his pointing.

The man tilts his head slightly. "What language are you speaking?"

"English?"

"Odd. It sounds different. I would know since I speak nine languages." The man grunts, his strange accent sounding like a melody to the ear were it not for the watery effect. It's sad how it affects his handsomeness, with the green and silver trimming of his suit and the snake necklace and rings he is wearing.

The ghost calmly flouts to a poster on the restaurant's wall a few steps away from Danny, knocking his knuckles against some symbols. "Point to this word, then the boy. That'll let the crowd know to get some medical attention."

Danny stares at him for a moment before the murder victim clears his throat impatiently, and it snaps him into action. Rushing over, he points to the words, then the Kyle-wannabee, and back again to the word. When the crowd continues to stare, Danny repeats the motion more urgently until the boy at the table finally catches on.

He pulls out a rectangular device from his pocket- the same one that girl had earlier this morning-tapping it with shaking fingers and speaking in rushed panic words.

The ghost at the poster nods approvingly. "Well done. Now, leave the scene before the authorities arrive."

"What?"

"I was an immigration lawyer in life. One of the only ones in this cursed city that actually gave a shit, and it got me killed. I know how they treat people who aren't from around here and how to help you when a language barrier gets in the way. Trust me, kid, it's better to get gone in this situation." As he speaks, the ghosts float back to Danny, shaking the chains around his feet for emphasis. There is a cold, calculating glint in his eye as he regards the silent crowd . "The panic will settle soon, and these people will form a mob. Get going."

Danny throws one last look at the unconscious boy before he realizes that the fear on people's faces hasn't lessened. It's growing, and he knows a witch hunt will start soon.

He's seen it before on the faces of Amity Park back when he was Inviza-Bill. He twists on his feet, running away with the lawyer flying behind him.

The older man gives out curt directions at every turn, slowly guiding him outside of the part of the city. Danny's legs are starting to burn when the sight of a large, broken-down amusement park comes into view.

The lawyer tells him which part of the fence board is loose enough for him to slide in and then instructs him to go to the fun house shaped like a giant clown head. Danny scrambles through the hole, hissing when a few loose nails catch on his skin, but he finally stumbles through, only to be overwhelmed by a new large and bustling crowd.

A crowd made of thousands of ghosts that walk or fly about without a care in the world. They are wearing various different eras of clothing, blending, and some have ghastly marks on their bodies, indicating their deaths.

The majority, however, are people with large, crazed smiles frozen on their faces. He gawks at all of them, not used to seeing so many of the dead in one place outside of the Ghost Zone.

"Don't just stand there with your mouth open." The lawyer snaps at Danny's back. "Get out of sight now!"

"Tom?" A woman in a gown that looks like she was present for the beheading of Marie Antonette steps in front of the drowned layer, Tom, with a look of confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

"Him." Tom nods his head at Danny, who offers the woman a wave. She reels back, opening her mouth like she's about to scream,m but Tom snaps forward, slapping a hand on her lips before she can. "Do not! What do you think will happen when all these murder victims realize he can communicate with them? He just escaped from being mobbed."

The man glances over his shoulder at Danny. "Go into the fun house. Act like you can't see or hear the rest of the ghosts. Walk through them if you have to."

"I can't," Danny whispers, his heart suddenly beating wildly. None of the ghosts noticed him, but that could change in a second. "Ghosts are solid to me. If I try to walk through them, we'll just end up bumping against each other."

Tom lets out a very put-upon sigh. "Then walk around them. Now go. It's not safe to talk in the open."

Danny knows Tom is helping him but feels vaguely threatened as he walks stiffly to the giant clown's head. He fights to keep his gaze straight, watching ghosts step out of his path while some flout closer, looking curious. He fights to not flinch at the ones with the enormous smile as if someone had cut them into their faces.

This is making his stomach turn.

"Who's this?" An older man asks Tom and the woman that follows him. His lips are pulled into two upturns, showing tight yellow teeth in a similar craze grin.

"Street kid," Tom grunts from somewhere behind him.

"He's likely looking for shelter from the cold." The woman adds, though her voice is slightly strained. "Tom wants to make sure he gets settled."

"Where is he going to?" The old man questions, his voice a little odd because he has to speak behind his teeth, trapped in a smile. "The only warm place here is the Joker's old place, and not even the dead go in there."

Danny ignores the old man's words, speed walking all the way to the entrance of the Fun House. He notices that various ghosts stop to watch him out of the corner of his eye as he finally passes the doorway into the building. Shaking his head, the old man lingers just a little outside of it. "Fool. Even if the Joker is not here, it's not a place to go."

Neither Tom nor the woman responds as they follow Danny inside. Tom is facing the wall when he mutters. "Close the door."

As soon as the wood seals shut, with a few ghosts lingering gaze trapped outside, Danny collapses on the floor, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "That was terrifying."

"What in the world is going on, Tom!" The woman hisses, apparently unable to hold back any longer while crossing her arms, "Who is this?"

Tom holds up a hand in her face, which makes her gasp in offense, but his eyes linger on Danny's crumbled form. " There is a dictionary tucked away in the third office. Go get it."

"What? Why?"

"Because we'll use that to help you communicate with the living locals. I can read, and you can point."

Danny's eyes widen. "That's a clever idea!"

"Of course it is. I'm one the cleverest men to walk this stupid city's streets." Tom smirks like the snakes he's wearing. "We don't have much time. Knowing the idiots of Gotham, Batman will be tipped off and on his way here as we speak."

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - what makes you attractive?

welcome back lovely reader! let's take a peak into what makes you so attractive. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 1 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you're interested in creating these meaningful and emotional connections to people.

you aren't the type of person who feels the need to place yourself above anyone, in order to feel good about yourself. your desire for balance and harmony in your relationships makes you highly attractive.

the way you're able to put yourself in other people's shoes, and approach them with empathy, is wonderful. you give them this precious feeling of being understood.

you're a person who has very comforting energy, and a soothing effect on others. someone who brings the calm after the chaos, and hope into situations that seem lost.

spirit keeps showing me this image of a bandaid.

your attractiveness lies in your gentleness. in your ability to mend and heal.

the fact that you've been through so much, but this inner spark of hope inside you still remained bright and dazzling in the end, makes you very special.

it's likely that a lot of you aren't fully aware of this, but your existence is dazzling, and extraordinary in many people's eyes.

you stand out. you're unique.

there's something about your presence that shines differently, compared to the people around you. it's almost like a butterfly that can't see the beauty of its own wings.

i believe a good amount of you, have gone through your own losses and heartbreaks in the past.

it's likely you went through different cycles, and various impactful stages in your life where you were forced to adapt and adjust. unexpected situations which caught you off guard and resulted in you needing to pick up the pieces by yourself.

but the way you've been able to bounce back, and still find this inner courage to keep going, despite the hurt, is impressive.

i believe you've come to a point where you've been able to move away from that state of sorrow, and turned it into something that fuels your power.

your ability to bravely deal with the things that life unexpectedly throws you head on, makes you very attractive.

you still have a more sensitive heart, and your core will always be a little soft and sweet deep down; but your character has gained a lot of strength throughout the years.

this is something you radiate to the outside now. your inner power makes you incredibly attractive.

you look at the things you've been through till now, as experiences which have shaped you immensely, and turned you into the person you are today.

a lot of you are also likely to be outspoken, and pretty straightforward. you like getting to the true core of topics, and aren't afraid to voice things others might shy away from.

your attractiveness lies in your ability to balance these two coinciding sides in you; one that is full of empathy, warmth and a kind heart, and one that is self-sufficient, ambitious and courageous.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 2 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you relentlessly work towards fulfilling your own dreams and goals.

you're willing to put in consistent effort, in order to build yourself the dream life you desire so badly.

i just don't see you liking to rely on anyone else to do the work for you. you're very self-sufficient, and recognize that in order to get to a place of satisfaction and contentment within yourself, you have to be the one to make the effort. there's nothing like enjoying the fruits of your own labor.

a lot of you are very sure of what you want for yourself. some of you might actively manifest, by imagining and picturing how you want your life to be.

creating moodboards on pinterest or something. creating folders of style inspiration, or interior design inspirations. this is how i want to be dressed, this is the place i want to live in.

you're not gonna be someone who throws the towel and gives in, just because someone else might label your dreams as impossible, or unrealistic.

it's almost like you'll tell them “well, i'll show you then”

you have high aspirations, standards and expectations towards yourself, as well as others, which makes you even more attractive.

you just do not settle for anything less than what you want.

people can't get to you too easily. you're guarded and careful about who you let in closely.

many people are likely to look at you as a person they can't quite decipher or fully figure out at first; someone whose facade they'd like to look beyond.

the fact that you aren't an open book who's constantly accessible and available twenty four seven, makes you highly attractive to others. you cautiously keep them at an arm's length, and people might have to work for your attention.

there might even be some people envious of you.

envious of the fact that you're so self-reliant, independent, and in no need of anyone's help or guidance in life.

and although you give off a more detached and colder vibe to some people on the outside, people who actually know the true you, are aware of how sweet and empathetic you can in fact be. you just have a genuine heart deep down.

you're likely to be someone with a lot of depth and layers, and the closer people get to knowing you in your entirety, the more they get to see of your more complex, introspective and sensitive sides.

you might be much more emotional, romantic and dreamy than what meets the eye at first; and this is likely to draw a lot of people to you.

like “wow, i didn't know you had this side to you”

there's this type of reversal charm, where you might pleasantly surprise some people with how soft you can actually be at times, compared to the first impression they had of you.

some of you might literally have an rbf, but a beautiful smile that brightens and lights up your face in a whole new way.

you also give me very very creative energy. i feel like you love to express yourself beautifully, in many artistic ways. and you see art as a way to live out your most authentic self.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 3 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you lead with your heart.

it's likely that you're a person who nurtures a strong connection to their vast and rich emotional world. you're someone who genuinely cares.

like.. i don't think you even know how to just not care about things, and go through life in a nonchalant “meh” way. most of the time, you're very chalant. (ㅜ same!)

this makes you much more attractive than you might realize.

you can easily get emotionally invested in plenty of your endeavors; whether that's your relationships, the choices you have to make, the different situations life throws in your way.

you feel everything in a deep and profound manner, and this makes you unique.

reason why i believe you might not be fully aware of this, is because you seem to have the tendency to see yourself as more lacking than you actually are.

you're likely to be a person who's very humble at their core. an eternal student of life.

someone who tries their best to grow continuously and better themselves through every situation they get confronted with; especially the disappointments, regrets, losses.

you're eager to pull the lesson out of every experience in life, and sincerely want to learn from your mistakes.

despite criticism hurting you sometimes, you're still trying your best to improve yourself through it all.

this hard-working, grounded, down to earth and modest energy makes you incredibly attractive.

i think you're slowly but surely trying to let go of certain limitations you habitually set yourself till now. you might've felt trapped in your mind and stuck for a good while, but you're progressively coming out of that place.

despite the exhausting struggles you've been through till now, you're still standing strong!

your endurance, resilience and inner strength makes you immensely attractive.

yes you're wounded, yes you don't see yourself as perfect, but you're still ready to fight. you are a true warrior.

even with your naturally modest character, i don't see you as a person who allows people to step all over them anymore. you're starting to learn to be more strict and clear with your boundaries.

people might see you as someone who's becoming more guarded and closing yourself off, but to you, it's what's necessary to protect yourself.

you're attractive in the way you're becoming more and more aware of your true worth and your value.

you shouldn't let people look at your inner softness as weakness anymore.

on the contrary, it makes you incredibly strong and attractive, if you confidently embrace that side of you. i can see you stepping into your true power, once you learn to acknowledge your qualities more.

it's very likely for the things you yourself see as your downfalls, to be your actual strengths. you might just see yourself in a negative light way too quickly.

for example, your emotionality and sensitivity doesn't have to be a flaw. it can be your asset. it makes you special.

not everyone is capable of emotional connection the way you are. not everyone has the ability to be so genuinely loving, caring and sincerely empathetic the way you are.

don't constantly see yourself for what you aren't, for what you lack, for what you can't do. but see yourself for what you are and what you have, what you can indeed do!

note; i was definitely the most passionate about this pile because i have to admit, i relate so much 🥹 sending you all my support and hugs sweet reader

[ronearoundblindly]

Two-Factor Adoration (1)

Steve Rogers x agent!Reader sex pollen

Summary: Exposed to strange substances, you and Steve end up unable to resist each other's pheromones. Can you stop it? Will you two survive if you give in?

gif by @bannerville; based off of this post (see series) Warnings for sexual references (m. masturbation, kinda scenting??), language, slightly slow burn, probably too much exposition, and my splitting this into two pieces because I'm impatient. WC 2125

Steve rubs at the blue powder as it shimmers on his exposed fingertips. After trapping an enemy grenade beneath his shield, he thought everything trapped beneath would turn to dust—ash, specifically—but this feels more fine and then disappears as if it were never there.

He runs his thumb along the inside again.

Perhaps his mind is playing tricks on him. Perhaps his eyes are still adjusting from the flash-bangs of battle. He could swear he saw though, but there’s no time to ponder. When he tosses the shield, letting it ricochet twice before thudding against an enemy agent’s skull, all the remnants of powder dislodge and faintly rain down to the concrete floor. He assumes the glittery substance gets incinerated later once the building is set alight.

Steve doesn’t feel any different. He’s not sick or incapacitated. He returns to HQ with the usual fanfare he loathes, grins and bares it, yet notices one congratulatory handshake in particular has him relaxing significantly, a drape of rose-colored calm descending down his body after his nostrils flare and his slightly sweating palm tingles.

The woman is on Echo Team, and he supervised some of her training months and months ago. Steve keeps everything professional—always has—so he swallows the odd, overwhelming surge of desire that twists in his gut, allowing the excited newest recruits to pull him away.

He visits the infirmary later that night, concerned that he seems to be taking deep breaths that somehow aren’t…satisfying? It’s difficult to describe to the doctor, who finds nothing strange in the sound or strength of his lungs, but Steve also fails to mention the blue powder that may or may not have absorbed into his skin.

So embarrassing, you chastise yourself, tucking into the back bench surrounding the practice mats in the gym. Cap doesn’t deserve to be ogled like a slab of meat while he’s working.

You can’t help it.

It’s like a flood of intense arousal hit you—harder than the super soldier can hit, truly, the gentleman—the moment you opened the door. Normally, this is a safe place to let go of sexual tension, to flush it out of your body, because the stench of sweat hovers thick in the air.

It smells…uh god, it smells spectacular today, warm and natural.

Your core feels heavy, a boulder anchoring you to the bench, planting you squarely in the sightline of Steve Rogers teaching two Deltas a fresh evasive technique. You lean forward, burying your nose against a closed fist to block some of the aroma, trying to gain the focus and momentum to get on with your own exercise.

Instead, minutes of staring later, Jones shouts your name.

“You good? You wanna jump in?”

Rogers doesn’t look up, his face pinched and hands shoved in his pockets. “We done for now,” he says with a curt nod, the sharpest of glances whipped in your direction, and the captain excuses himself.

Jones hops up one of the bleacher steps.

“How heavy was your workout today, Pinkie? You’re sweating bullets.”

That stupid nickname will haunt you forever, damn it, but he’s right. You are perspiring enough to leave drops rolling down your back and neck. The shock of one bead dripping between your breasts causes you to sit suddenly straight, and you haven’t done anything at all.

So embarrassing.

He’s a handsome man, no doubt about that, but he’s not hanging around for your pleasure. Rogers is here to do a job, as are you.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve starts delicately.

Nat swirls her bottle of beer, a lazy smirk blooming in anticipation. He always asks that before something pertaining to romance in the modern world. She’s discussed this tell with him repeatedly but never fails to enjoy his shy pokes for dating tips.

Not that Steve has used any of her advice, but Natasha remains hopeful.

“What did Yelena say the Red Room mind-control felt like?”

Nat’s face falls. That was a chance of pace.

“Why…”

“I just wondered whether it was, ya know, blind obedience—“ Steve props himself on his arms across the table, quiet so as not to draw anyone else in the common area’s interest “—or an unexplained loyalty? Did she feel like a…a slave or was it a kind of…”

Nat takes a long sip of her beer, eyes narrowing.

“Love,” he finishes. “Did it seem like she loved following orders from Dreykov?”

“That’s an awful way to put it,” Nat mutters, disgusted.

Steve is quick to wave it off, telling her never mind, forget it, but he doesn’t change the subject once he notices she’s thinking on it.

“As far as I know, the Widow formula worked same as the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. They had no choice, no conscious thought about obeying or not.”

“Was it from electricity?” Steve presses. “Or a powder?”

“Her cure was what was kinda an aerosolized pow—what is this about?” Nat scoots closer to him across the small space. “Why are you asking about this?”

Steve does a poor impression of a man casually shrugging and enjoying a beer but stays distracted, scanning the room.

She sucks her cheek thoughtfully. “I don’t know about the mind-control thing, but I know that’s not what the pheromone lock felt like.” After Steve perks up, she attempts to elaborate. “That I could think about how much I wanted to hurt him, but my body couldn’t do it. I began the action, my arm moved at first, but no followthrough. One of the weirdest moments of my life. I was helpless.”

He’s always appreciated how honest Nat will be with him. Both of them work to be normal in a world they don’t really belong in.

“Helpless,” she adds, “not unaware.”

That’s how he feels; Steve cannot control how much he thinks about you, how he seeks out even a whiff of you, how ingrained his need has become so quickly.

He’s watched security footage of your team trainings, listened to your comms track of mission recordings, and stole a piece of your clothing.

Technically, Steve did not intend to take anything. It just happened.

Yesterday, you ran through the hall with your laundry in an open hamper, smacked right into him when rounding a corner, and dropped something without noticing.

He could have called after you. He could have returned the thin tank that lay crumpled at his feet. He did not. Steve held the soft bundle in one fist, deliberately down by his side, until alone in his quarters. He stood there just inside the door, thinking till it hurt about how wrong he was for doing this, how wrong he was for even thinking about you that way.

So he threw the garment into the trash and went about his night normally.

Steve, however, found himself with that same hand clamped over his nose and mouth as he furiously stroked his cock in the dark. He wouldn’t wash it until another round in the morning, shamed and sticky in the bed, breathing in the satisfaction like oxygen, his heart beating fast enough to concern him again.

He hasn’t gone to the doctor though since he knows what’s wrong.

He’s infected. He suspects you might be, too.

The goddamn training videos all feature Captain Rogers fighting.

You’re going to die.

It’s torture to sit in an uncomfortable chair, flanked by ten of your fellow junior agents, and watch his body spin, his chest heave, his legs spread as he leaps farther than any of these boys can hope to. Goddamn it, you’re going to die.

Rogers lets out this faint grunt when he’s been pummeling someone for a while and the microphone and camera are close enough. The footage is a mix of real battle and simulation, with blows either not connecting with the volunteers sparring or his punches being pulled. Those struggling noises actually get worse and more frequent when Rogers isn’t truly fighting. It appears harder for him to hold back than to go full-bore.

Goddamn it, he’s so hot.

The problem is two-fold now: these glimpses of him—hints of him by sight or sound or smell—throw your hormones into overdrive, AND when your adrenaline spikes, you’re desperate for a hit of him.

After the latest successful mission, with Echo Team being transported home on one of the main jets, the ones with lockers for the Big Six just in case, you found yourself pulled to that very corner, itching all over to find the source of that utterly intoxicating musk. You had to have it. You would combust without it, crawl right out of your skin, waste away on the grating and cargo net without it.

You wedged yourself in the small space behind the lockers, smothering the Cap suit to your face, nose practically bruised by the ridges of the shining star at his chest’s center, imagining it resting against his sternum. You let the flood wash over you, the pulse of sheer passion devastating your nervous system and exploding in your veins.

You imagine the body inside the suit pressing you into the wall with those broad shoulders, those strong arms pinning you by waist, that lean pelvis crushing your hips into the metal hurtling twenty-thousand feet above the Earth, and those dextrous hands anchoring your throat to offer him the best access.

Your head thuds against the lockers, alerting your team to shout from the front, calling you to rejoin them. Reluctantly, you replace the suit in silence, petting how the supple leather one last time before locking away that weakness to which you keep succumbing.

Goddamn it.

Steve’s convinced he’s going insane until Natasha tracks him down while they prep for a big multi-national sting of Ten Rings terror cells.

“Took a look at the Red Room files,” she throws out. “Found something interesting.”

At first, Steve doesn’t catch that this isn’t about the job at hand.

“The scientists played with the controls together.”

“Huh?” He tightens a clasp on his suit and swears his brain senses a phantom hint of you. “What controls? Was Red Room ever working with Ten Rings?”

“No, I mean the mind-control and the pheromone lock. They tried to kill two birds with one stone.”

Steve slides on his glove. “And?”

“Well, the results were catastrophic, so the project was abandoned.” Her brow ticks up when she notices his sudden, undivided attention. “It was a dual-acting compound, the owner of the Widow took one chemical and the Widow took the other. For obedience, loyalty, all that shit you mentioned. Added bonus being that you could sell a specific client a Widow only beholden to him. There were test subjects it didn’t work on at all, but there were also those who…”

Steve holds his breath.

“…became obsessed with each other. The—quote—‘owner’ lost control because he was also devoted to his Widow, and you can’t care about disposable resources, can you?” Nat’s voice drips with bitterness and judgment. “So, yeah, abandoned. There’s no mention of the testing continuing. They just moved on.”

“They just—what? Cured the subjects?”

“It didn’t work, Steve,” Natasha softly hisses back at his strained tone. “That’s what I’m telling you.” Her eyes bulge, encouraging the dots to connect. “Terminated. Widows don't have attachments, either.”

“Killed them,” he squeaks, clearing his throat. “And there were different powders?”

“Funny you should mention ‘powder’ because they did color-code them.”

Steve’s stomach drops. He know what’s coming.

“One was described as rozovyy.” Natasha turns to walk with him across the hangar to their gathered troop of agents. “Reminds me of that incident where Pinkie got exposed. Spent eight days in quarantine because two of the noobs played Hot Potato with what they thought was a dud dispersal pod. You remember that scare?”

He swipes his tongue over dry lips. “I recall something of the sort.”

“Guess we don’t have anything to worry about though. Nobody got doused in azure, did they?”

Steve swallows hard, sweating, heart rate kicking up, but it’s possible that’s because you’re among the agents assigned today and he can see you, positioned in the back—unnecessarily for your current rank,— focused strategically at his feet.

He swings around, halting Nat with a firm hand.

“Was there a reason they found it worked on some and not others?”

She sighs. “The pair that hated each other, it didn’t take. They did not want to be bonded in any way. There was no mutual…let’s call it ‘respect.’ That was the best guess.”

“Right.” Steve hangs his head, catching another imaginary whiff.

If he’s not already insane, it’s only a matter of time, and he knows it.

[Part Two]

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers Series List; Ko-Fi]

[randomness-is-my-order]

while i’m on the topic, it is very hilarious and also very insightful that mxtx actually plainly tells us how anyone else except wei wuxian would have fared without their golden cores/spiritual powers by putting thousand-plus cultivators in exactly that situation during the second siege. the way they all absolutely lose their shit, fumble around, lose coherence of thought, see-saw between decisions and become, essentially, helpless and useless is eye-opening. hell, jiang cheng ends up so affected that jin ling is able to manhandle him into the cave. the cultivators from the biggest clans aren’t able to come up with anything to save their asses and it takes shizui to point out the array for them to even consider it as an option. if wei wuxian, lan wangji and the juniors weren’t there, sooooo many disciples would have lost their lives–simply because of how incompetent they collectively became once they lost their spiritual powers. if they made a coordinated effort, they could have still held the corpses off, but it’s just that... they weren’t able to, mentally, get past their sudden lack of powers. they were disoriented.

now, i’m not saying that this isn’t a normal reaction to have. it’s totally understandable how these people were huge messes, especially in such a high stakes situation. it is just that it puts into perspective how AWESOME wei wuxian is to have had his golden core cut out of him, voluntarily, then beaten within a micrometre of his life, then thrown straight into the hell on earth aka the burial mounds and then instead of succumbing instantly, he instead overcame these impossible circumstances and somehow, survived and found alternative powers to keep him going. that is nothing short of mind-boggling, awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping. not one person in that siege-laying populace would be able to accomplish that and it held some of the finest cultivators their world has to offer. because no one, other than wei wuxian, had the internal capabilities to build their strengths up from a source that wasn’t their spiritual powers. without their golden cores, they would be toast faster than a human within one kilometre of the sun’s radius. and i love love love how mxtx hits us with this fact in our faces in exactly the scenes that are all about undoing the falsehoods and allegations that wei wuxian, until then, had been levied with in the larger cultivation world’s perspective.

[bbasorexja]

☽ — Patience and its rewards.

caelus x fem!reader. extra smut. overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f. receiving), implicit sex marathon, implicit somnophilia; lmk if i missed any. minors and blank blogs dni.

Your brain was melting from the intense pleasure. The slamming of the headboard against the wall accompanied each thrust of Caelus, his dick ramming your insides like nothing before. Your moans were a sinful melody echoing against the walls of your bedroom, and you were glad the Express was currently empty, the rest of the crew away somewhere.

«Fuuuck-» Caelus moaned. Grabbing your right leg, he hooked it over his shoulder. His lips found the inner side of your thigh, and you felt his teeth sink in the supple flesh. You moaned again, back arching off the bed as you gripped tightly at the crumpled sheets. Another orgasm building up, another peak you knew the other wasn't going to let you experience — this has been going on for a while, now.

In between your fried nerves, you could barely still remember how the two of you got to this lewd point. And the fact that those thick inches of his were capable of reaching points you didn't even know you had, made it even harder to remember.

You two were patching each other up after a not-so-pleasant encounter with some rude vagrants at the Great Mine. Sure, you and Caelus did kick their butts, but they also stood their ground until the very end. And when you two got back on the Express, you rushed to go get a first aid kit.

You were used to the sight of your companions, and people in general, being half undressed when getting their wounds treated. But something primal stirred within you when Caelus had to shred off his coat and the white tee, his battered skin and bulging muscles on full display for you to feast your eyes on — how the hell did this guy hide such mass under those clothes?

Yet, you had to remain a professional, for what you could, at least. But it was so damn hard to do so, with this menace (a sexy menace, you had to remember) sitting on your bed, legs spread wide to make some space for you, hands dipping down into the mattress to support his weight on them. And those golden eyes of his... he was devouring you, you could feel that. That, and probably he was also fucking you into the sheets like a wild, dirty animal. It didn't take you much to find out that he actually was, did.

Before you could reach the orgasm you were longing for, Caelus pulled out, the emptiness and coldness making you whine in protest. He chuckled at your annoyance, his dick throbbing at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing, when those warm walls of yours begged to be stuffed by him once again. In a moment, he told himself. He had to taste you first.

Flipping you on your stomach, the grey-haired Trailblazer grabbed the plush of your butt cheeks and pushed them up in the air, your dripping core right before his awaiting mouth. His hot breath made you sigh, before yet another moan fell from your kiss-swollen lips as he licked over the engorged bundle of nerves, purple from the overstimulation.

«Caelus, please!» You cried out, your grip on the poor pillow tightening, your toes curling from the overwhelming pleasure.

Tears formed in your eyes, mouth agape in a silent cry for more, for that sweet release you so desperately craved. Torture, it was absolute torture! That devilish tongue expertly lapping at your folds, not a single drop of sweet juice going to waste and, instead, coating his lips as it mixed up with his own drool.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull, chest heaving with short and quick breaths, clearly overwhelmed. Your fingers found the ashen locks behind your back, and you tugged, harshly, eliciting a snarl from the guy. Caelus slapped your clit, and your thighs squeezed his head in response; he had to pry them open with brute strength to have some movement freedom again.

«Please! Please... I beg you!» You cried out again, tears gathering in your waterline once again. This was maddening, cruel! «I need it! Please! Caelus!»

Another pained cry left your lips in frustration when the Trailblazer pulled his mouth away from your folds, and your tears spilled out, jaws clenched in annoyance. You felt like your teeth were about to break from the sheer strength, but luckily, that didn't happen. You were this close to turn around and strangle the idiot, when a harsh slap on your ass brought you back down from your anger.

«Relax, I'm done playing» He stated, his voice a low, smooth caress to your ears.

You were again on your back, legs up in the air, Caelus's hands on the back of your thighs as your ankles rested on his broad shoulders, keeping you exposed to his hungry gaze. The fat tip of his cock, covered in a thick layer of your slick and his pre-cum, twitched against your bottom lips. You moaned at the feeling as his fingers gripped at the supple flesh of your thighs.

He drove his hard length back between your warm walls, the stretch a much welcome feeling. More moans fell from your lips until he bottomed out, the leaking tip rubbing at your sweet spot, and you whined. The thrusts also came back, harder and stronger than before, harsh slaps of skin on skin as you got drilled into the beaten mattress. Tears gathered in your eyes, your breath taken away from your lungs. Moans upon moans slipped past your swollen lips, free to bounce on the walls in a sinful symphony with the squelching and slapping of slicked skin and heavy balls on your ass.

Caelus's hands found your breasts, deft fingers pulling and flicking the hardened nipples, and he groaned at that, knowing it was because of him — him and him only, as he was the one who reduced you in such a pathetic, horny state.

A shudder ran down your spine before you arched it off the mattress, your legs tight around the Trailblazer's neck. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge, faster, harder, stronger, building up the momentum of the promised sweet release. The thick tip kept bullying your insides, hitting the deepest, farthest corner of your pussy, and the walls got stretched to accomodate the girthy length. The grey-haired guy's breath hitched in his throat, fingers squeezing tight the tender flesh of your thighs. Close, he was so damn close, each thrust more frantic than the previous, more aggressive, more desperate. Caelus was desperate to feel you, feel your walls squeeze him tight, milk him dry for all of his worth. And then, you filled up to the brim, overflowing, your trembling pussy leaking his warm cum because it was just too much and you couldn't possibly keep it all inside.

That vision had been enough, for both of you. You, too, were fantasizing about a nasty creampie, being filled up with so much cum it would have formed a bulge in your abdomen from the sheer quantity. Perverts, both of you.

«Cae-»

«Damn-»

«'m... I'm!-»

«Yes!»

Stars exploded in your eyes, white dots blinding you. A high-pitched scream fell from your lips, the name of your partner a yelled prayer as your legs shook on his shoulders. Caelus tried his best to keep you still, he did, but it was too much. Too strong, too overwhelming, too hot. You were just too much, too sexy, too beautiful as you got stuffed full of his cum and his cock, a bulge in your abdomen from his presence. His. Presence.

Thick spurts of warm cum shoot deep inside, your walls painted white. Your knuckles, too, were white, from the strength you were gripping on the pillow. The thrusts lost speed and roughness, but they were just as deep, languid strokes driving you two back down from cloud nine.

You collapsed on the mattress, boneless, absolutely spent. It had been the best orgasm of your life, completely life-changing. Had you known Caelus packed that much in both terms of presence and skills, you would have gotten him into your bed earlier, much earlier.

As your eyes fell close, you took deep breaths to try and calm down, the erratic pace of your heartbeat thumping loud in your ears. It didn't last long, though, and you were back on your stomach, ass up in the air, hands behind your back. Your eyes widened in shock, terror and a flicker of newly sparked arousal, feeling the grey-haired guy's cock still hard against your entrance.

«You wanted more? You begged for a release?» He exhaled, and you were more than sure he was smirking, that devilish curve that had your stomach churn.

The hand that didn't bind your wrists reached up your head, grabbing a fistful of disheveled locks. He tilted your head backwards, back arched deeply as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, a low, husky tone that had your ruined walls clench around nothing.

«Now I'm gonna fuck all the orgasms I denied you inside that eager pussy of yours. And you, like a good slut, are gonna take them all.»

Your eyes were wide with terror and arousal upon hearing his words. He had denied you a dozen of orgasms, at least — even more, maybe, but you had lost count a while ago. You only knew he spent a good amount of time teasing you. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the thought, but the wetness you felt dripping down to your thighs betrayed your eagerness at the impending marathon. The thought of being fucked senseless had you lose your breath, gasping for air in the hot room.

You would have passed out before Caelus could be done, but even then, you wouldn't have minded it. Hell, maybe you would have woken up still getting fucked, a puddle of slick and cum under your ass and coating your bodies, pussy so raw it was ten times more sensitive. The mere thought was enough to have you drool.

A crazed smile graced your lips when the thick length slammed inside you once again, the brutal thrusts resuming their punishing pace.

© Intellectual property of @bbasorexja. Do not steal, copy, mimick, translate, or feed to AI.

[monstersholygrail]

I've had an idea on my mind forever. I cant word it though, but I'll try my best.

Dragon friend whose secretly in love with their traveling partner/rider. Hers horny and the rider helps them, but hes far too big, resulting in him using his tongue, instead.

Reading this I can figure out what you meant, but the terms on who's doing what is a bit mixed and it gave me a hilarious idea.

When you arrived at the academy, they almost didn't know what to do with you. You were a giant after all. Most if not all their dragons were huge, sure, but huge for humans. Proportional to a human and what they'd need to ride. You had passed all the field and written exams with ease and how couldn’t you... you were a giant. So they couldn't exactly kick you to the curb. But what else could they do?!

And that's when they remembered your Dragon friend. He was ginormous, the biggest dragon in all the land. Much too big for a human to be able to control. But you? You were the answer to his prayers and he was the answer to yours. The two of you worked as an incredible team and became fast friends. And maybe something more. If either of you could just admit your feelings for one another.

Going out for patrols where you would have to ride your Dragon friend’s back was a special kind of torture for you both. Hours on end with no break as your sweet core is so close yet so far from where you both need it most. Your Dragon friend could feel the heat emit from you and it took all his strength not to throw you down and have his way with you. Meanwhile every flap of his wings sent his body bumping against you and you could barely hold yourself back from grinding against his scales.

Today was especially tricky as the winds didn’t seem to be on their sides. It seemed particularly intent on their ruin as it blowed rapidly against them, causing your Dragon friend to flap his wings furiously in attempts to steady the both of you. His body practically rocking between your thighs. You couldn’t help the arousal you feel building up inside you. And sadly, you aren’t subtle about it either as one long sniff and your Dragon friend can smell it as it surrounds his senses.

He quickly tells you he needs to land and before you can disagree he’s descending down to the ground. You try and act clueless as to why he’s paused your patrols but one look from him and a blush covers your cheeks. He tells you that he can’t fly like this with your smell wafting in his nose every few minutes and disorienting him.

That’s how you find yourself maneuvering your giant self on top of your Dragon friend’s snout. His large dragon body laying on his back and ready to lick your hole till you go weak in the knees. He can feel the fire burning in his throat, so turned on he could shoot flames right now.

He’s been waiting so long for this moment. Wanting to finally taste you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. So when his tongue finally dips inside your core a growl rumbles through him and he unleashes his every desire onto you. His tongue swirling inside you and hitting every place right. You cry out, body jerking forward. Your hands finding purchase on the top of a couple trees in front of you. Using them as leverage to help grind into your Dragon friend’s face.

Your climax crashes through you as his tongue repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you that has your mind spinning and your toes curling. Your cum shoots all over your friend’s face and he roars in pleasure. You moan and shake as he works you through your orgasm. Then when he’s done he continues to care for you and helps clean you and his face up. Plus he just wants more of your taste on his tongue.

Afterwards as you’re both getting prepped to fly again, you’re a blushing mess while your friend acts like nothing happened. What you don’t know and will soon find out is how every time the scent of your arousal dares to fill his senses he’s gonna take you back to the ground and pound you into it.

[natalievoncatte]

Lena watched their new visitor as she, in turn, watched the bier that lay beneath the healing power of the Purple Ray. It had been almost a full day and while she was breathing shallow breaths, Lena’s counterpart on the table was still not awake.

The cyborg stood just outside the perimeter of the beam, as still as a statue, just watching. At various times Kara, Nia, Alex, and Diana herself had all taken up silent watch next to her, along with the honor guard of Amazonian warriors.

Lena looked at… herself. Her doppleganger tapped the name tag on her leather jacket.

“It’s easier if you just call me by my number- 938. That’s how we keep track of each other.”

Lena nodded. “Others?”

“The other Lenas. There’s about fifty on the ship right now, the core membership. There’s about three hundred of us in total. We’re the ones who can’t, or won’t, go home.”

“I see,” said Lena. “Why can’t you go back?”

938 looked at her. “It’s not a fun story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let me show you something.”

She held out her wrist. There was a piece of tech on her arm, like a bulky smart watch. When she activated it, a three dimensional holographic display appeared above the smooth surface. 938 pointed out the branches of what looked like a huge tree.

“The multiverse is much larger than you can imagine. I’ve spent some time charting a small section of it. See this branch?” she indicated one with a sweep of her finger. “This the reality cluster I come from. Our worlds are different from yours. I believe it’s because the divergence point, where the two universes split on a quantum continuity level, is further back in history. I think some of the changes can go all the way back to the Big Bang.”

“There’s so many,” said Lena.

998 nodded. “There are. There are worlds like yours, but many others like mine. We have no protectors. No Kryptonians. No Lanterns. There are worlds out there where no one has powers at all.”

“But not yours,” said Lena.

938 turned off the device, and turned away from the scene behind them. “For me it started with a lab accident. A genetically modified spider was irradiated and bit me before it died. It’d escaped from an enclosure in another lab and got zapped by my own experiment. I was sick for three days. When I came out of it, I had the proportionate strength, speed, and agility of an arachnid, plus a precognitive danger sense and spinarettes in my wrists.”

“You became a superhero?”

“Yes,” said 938. “For all the good it did. I fought the good fight for a few years and eventually ran afoul of a new gang in town. The problem was that it was led by my own brother.”

“Lex,” Lena spat.

“He’d experimented on himself. Used an unstable steroid. It drove him utterly insane and he started wearing a goblin costume and flying around on a rocket powered glider.”

“Oh God,” said Lena.

“My universe doesn’t have a Krypton. My Kara was human, only human, and I loved her with all my heart. I couldn’t breathe without her. She was my everything. I tried to keep her safe, so I kept my identity and my feelings from her, but it didn’t matter. Lex knew. He abducted her and threw her off the George Washington Bridge.”

938 looked away. “I thought I had her. I tried to use my webs to catch her but I didn’t think and the shock… I’m the one who killed her really. The sudden stop snapped her neck.”

Lena stared at her.

“I’m so sorry.”

938 shook her head. “I fought Lex after that. I was in a rage. I killed him in front of thousands of witnesses. I broke his neck, almost twisted his head off. It didn’t matter. She was still gone, and nothing would ever fill that void. I hung up my costume and turned back to science, trying to build something meaningful in Kara’s name, but no matter how many labs and fellowships I named after her it was never enough. That was how I stumbled across the multiverse, working on a portal device in my lab.”

“You found yourself, I take it. Or ourself.”

“No. I found another Kara, and in a world with no Lena. She was alone. I crossed over with some of my tech, never planning to go back. Then I realized, that woman wasn’t her. All I could ever be to her was someone grooming her to be a dead woman from another world. I despaired for a while, jumping from ‘verse to ‘verse, trying to find some reason to keep going.”

“What did you find?” said Lena.

“Lena 1467, the Sorcerer Supreme of her Earth. She’d lost her Kara too, in a car accident when they were med students. That was when the League of Lenas got going. We found more of us, started assembling a team.”

“To do what?”

998 looked at the cyborg. “Fix it. Save her.” She sighed. “Our main mission is to help out and protect as many Karas as we can, but also to protect the multiverse from rogue Karas or rogue Lenas that might breach the barriers between universes.”

“I’m assuming that’s to prevent wars between timelines.”

938 shook her heads. “No. Not long after I started traveling I had… an experience. I only vaguely remember it but there were these yellow aliens and they told me that we had to protect the branches from each other so that some kind of corruption won’t reach what they called the ‘core world’ or the ‘Ab-Juda-Earth.’ The multiverse needs superheroes. We have to exist to keep it alive.”

“So you’re here to help the cyborg?”

“Both of them.”

“You know,” said Lena. “The cyborg Kara mentioned something about yellow aliens when I first met her, but I didn’t think to ask-“

“She’s awake!” The cyborg was saying. “She’s awake, let me see her!”

Lena turned and found both her Kara and Diana holding the cyborg back.

“Shut off the Ray,” Diana commanded.

Once it was off, the pair released the cyborg. She lunged across the space, limping as her metal foot clacked on the floor, slowing as she reached the bier.

“Kara?”

Lena watched, 998 standing next to her. The cyborg kept her distance, suddenly apprehensive. The other Lena slowly sat up, finally prompting the cyborg to move.

“Lena?” she rasped.

The other Lena- thinner, visibly older with strands of gray shot through her hair, smiled and cupped the fleshy side of Kara’s face with her hand.

“You found me.”

“I found you. My love. My zhao. My red sunrise. I found you.”

“It’s going to be alright, baby,” said the other Lena. “I can fix you up. I’ll make you better.”

The cyborg took a deep, rasping breath, closed her eyes, and collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.

“Move!” 938 shouted. “We don’t have time, we have to help her now. Princess, I need to jump my ship into your airspace. Please.”

“Who are you? What’s happening?” the other Lena demanded.

“Trust us, please,” said Lena. “You’re among friends here and we want to help you.”

938 was speaking into her watch.

“I need you now, hurry.”

Outside, a booming shockwave sent a blast of air through the open, airy temple, almost gusting Lena off her feet. Her Kara steadied her, then lifted her cyborg counterpart gently in her arms.

“Get her aboard my ship,” said 998.

[technicallyhappyarcade]

Core Strength: A Comprehensive Guide to Improving Your Core Strength

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[berriblossom]

Devotion - Childe

☆| Helloooo, another sagau fic! Liking these atm, read warnings below!|

☆| WARNING| male masturbation, semi-smut (not really just tartag jacking off), religious themes, obsessed devotion, reader is reffered to as a holy elder/ ancient god in teyvat AKA "The Great Divine", MDNI, ALL WORK AND CHARACTERS PROTRAYALS ARE FICTIONAL! Enjoy yaaay!|

Holy divinity was different for many people. Specifically in his homeland of Snezhnaya, the way the cryo archon and the fatui worshipped the elder god of this land, was through trials of hardship and sacrifice. Not by human life but more so in spirit. Tartaglia remembers before he fell into the abyss, he remembers how his parents would take him to the capital of the nation as people handed out hot mule, carts of candies, soups, and strict coupons from the Northland Bank as a way to get more people into debt. Ah sweet times he remembers, but specifically the core of this memory and why he wanted to grow strong in the first place was the military parade, led under the first Fatui Harbinger, Capitano, or the Captain.

How the soldiers and men under such an esteemed figure, followed his order, chanting prayers of absolute dedication and power given to her lady the Tsaritsa and the Great Divine. How they held onto their weapons and raised them in the air, promising victory in their journey, for they won't falter in this promise, and how this promise to their benevolent gods was a sign of pure devotion and strength. As a young boy watching this with eyes of life and joy, Ajax made a promise to himself that day at the small celebration, that he too would lay his life for not only the cryo archon but now his devoted and beloved Divine diety.

Ajax entered the now vacant temple hall. At the moment he had returned to his homeland for a banquet held by the Regretor for the honor of bringing home another gnosis in the name of the Cryo archon. However, he left the party early, a rare sign for the youngest harbinger. Usually, some would suspect the adrenaline-driven young man to be bursting with energy at large gathering and times to show of himself. But unlike an actual party, Fatui Banquets aren't about celebration, but rather politics and money. Something despite his position wasn't something he felt interest in. Just for him to be reminded of the greed and personal gain each of his fellow members had for themselves, so silently he left. Ajax sat on a temple pew, your frosted statue standing at the top of the hall, sat atop a small stage with a chair beside it, representing the Tsaritsa as she would sit or stand beside you in glory at your fated return to Teyvat. Ajax sat on the step underneath your statue, the air was cold, his breath coming in small pants, cheeks blushed as the usual bite of the cold nibbled on his features. But his eyes remained on your statue, focused and unchanging.

Silently, Ajax wondered what the feeling your benevolent gaze had on him. He remembered that even his master, Skirk mentioned casually that despite your benevolence to humankind, you were in fact a being of havoc and destruction, it was that you chose to keep humans, mortals, and immortals out of said fury, and wrath out of your kindness. Hearing that at a young age, made Ajax double his promise to you, that he would lay his life for you, even fight for you. Hell if needed he would betray his fellow harbingers for you and the cryo archon, without a split second to rethink the decision. Even as he travels for work and missions handed to him by the Tsaritsa, he carries a small page of scripture for you, words from thousands of years ago spoken that still ring in his mind when he feels unsettled or disturbed and needs your guidance and love.

"For human life and soul is the building block of all things in this world, without it, I am nothing, and as nothing, I shall depend on the love my humans have created out of nothing to give for me, something. Human love is worth a thousand years in memory and gold."

Ajax no matter what the anxiety, fear, or even boredom that plagues his mind, he daydreams of the day you'd return. How in his wildest fantasies, he'd get to hold you, cherish you, worship you, kiss your feet, and hands, hold the strong hands and fingers that sculpted his entire being and blessed him for the victories in battle he as acquired and carry scars as if they were trophies.

His breathing in the cold temple hall stalls for a moment.

He looks up.

His eyes meet your stone-engraved ones. Closed as a warm smile is printed onto the marble statue, forever frozen in a warming embrace and careful tenderness. Ajax whimpers as he closes his eyes tightly shut, his hands grip into fists against the tile flooring, leaning over as he kneels under your stone gaze. He mumbles quietly.

Ajax's voice echoes as he feels the weight of his words hangs in the empty temple. The world feels like it is silent, for it feels like he is only here with your statue, your presence, your being. Pressure builds in the base of his spine, crawling up his sides like a flame, tingling and burning with passion, burning at his fingertips, the cold leaving a numbing feeling as his other hand stays on the cold tiled floor. The hand from his chest lowers as he swallows hard, his eyes fluttering open and close with each breath, and each touch he leaves, imagining it was you. His voice falters as his pleas grow silent but his soft noises echo louder.

"My grace...by the names given to you...my dear loving god...hear me.." His voice was hoarse as he shivered feeling what felt like warm air hit his clothed back. Covered in the official Fatui coat, Ajax's hands tighten as he releases his fist and lays his fingers flat on the floor, his voice picks up again in the cold room. Light only by a sole candle illuminating your stone-etched face. "My grace, hear my prayers, as your devoted soldier, I want... no need for your blessings, the gifts of life and victory you've given me have warmed my heart, have been so tender...I am grateful....however.."

Ajax sighs and as he feels another wisp of warm air hit his neck, shivering he brings his hand to his chest, flat as his heart beats steadily. "I want more than your power...my fellow harbingers wish for your dominion, wishing to be like the gods you've created and destroyed....I want..your love...your sole love..your divine love only for me...a sin it is to be ready my grace, but I plead..."

With the promise he made set in his heart, Ajax tumbled forward, his chest heaving, as he spilled warmth into his palm, his flesh flushed, heart pounding in his ears, the warm hands he imagined, the sensation was replaced with his rough scarred palm. He looks down at his hand, his face flushed but eerily calm. He sighs and pulls his gloves back on, not caring about the mess as he stands, his coat overhanging on his shoulders.

He bites off his glove, wanting to imagine a new sensation, a warm scarred hand is replaced by his fantasy, a hand he can't recognize but adores. His eyes water as his fantasies grow wild, your voice, he imagines surrounding him, asking him to explain his needs, how he wants you to love him. The hand slides down his toned abdomen, tickling at his ribs and chest, flicks of hydro swirling around his fingers as he whimpers again..

"Please..." His voice gave in, slowly hurling over, the hand he imagined dipped below his belt, tossing away the useless fabric, taking hold of his form, his breath quickens as the pace is slow, "as it should" he thinks in the back of his mind. It shouldn't be rushed...he whispers into his consciousness, it should be slow, careful, tender. With love, he moans into the cold room. The candle flickers in the cold wind, the wisp of warm air against his fingers as they stroke hypnotically, circling around his flesh as he bites down on his lip harshly. Fresh drops of blood drip into his throat, flowing slowly as he swallows some, delusionally believing it could be your blood into him, flowing into him he wishes.

He desperately wants everything of you, all of it. Even if it hurts, even if it killed him. Ajax was prepared for such a price for your love, depraved and unattached, he choked a struggled moan as he felt his body tense, he quickened his pace, his voice speaking in hushed prayer as he used the other hand to press against his neck. His moans begging.

"Please...please...give me it...all of it...my grace..... give-"

He looks at your statue.

A smile creeps onto his face the gloved fingers just used for pleasure, cup your sculpted face. His final whisper relayed before leaving the frozen temple.

"You will be mine...and I yours, my beloved divine and holy god."

☆|Oof, I made him a freakish ngl, anyways I hoped you enjoyed it!

_______________________________________________

[sagaduwyrm]

Something that interests me about Girl Genius is the way that the Heterodynes are consistently portrayed as the worst of the worst despite being pretty reasonable by Spark standards.

This is not to say that they are reasonable by normal people standards, or that they were anything approaching decent people. This is pointing out that compared to other sparks, who figured out they could conquer places and immediately started the Long War, the Heterodynes have had little to no large scale negative effect on the world.

Evidence: Zumzum

While in Zumzum Agatha finds out that the Heterodyne raids rolled through the town "every four years or so, sure as the moonrise" (Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess). Despite this the town is, though small, prosperous. They have a fully staffed guard and enough spare income that the circus was initially planning to remain for three days.

Compare this to the numerous dead towns noted to be littering the wastelands. Sparks regularly render towns unlivable or dead. The Heterodynes, however traumatize them and steal their stuff, but still leave the towns they raid capable of functioning. From this we can assume that, despite what we are told, the Heterodynes are not only capable of self-restraint, they're good at it.

Evidence 2: Heterodyne Creations

The Heterodynes left an enduring legacy in the form of constructs, clanks, and the castle. Many of these are hundreds of years old and yet have little trouble functioning. This means that the Heterodynes not only build to last, but their descendants are willing to put in the time for upkeep rather than get distracted and focus on the next big thing.

The Heterodynes are the only sparks with so many creations still running around. Other sparks, like Van Rijn, do have some creations that have lasted the ages, but nothing compared to the sheer quantity of the Heterodynes.

Also, consider the jägerkin. The jägers are some of the most important Heterodyne constructs, and have acted as the core of their army and their honor guard for more than half a millennia. Despite this, they don't have levels of speed or strength much beyond average, at least as far as spark constructs go. Instead, they're noted for their remarkable survivability. This again suggests that Heterodynes prioritize longevity to a remarkable level for sparks.

Evidence the Last: Europa still Exists

I repeat myself, after two centuries of off and on spark warfare, significant amounts of Europa is unlivable. The Heterodynes had ten centuries and Europa was fine. Do the math.

However, despite this show of consistent reason, the Heterodynes are constantly described in story as evil incarnate. I'd like to posit that this suggests both that in-story lore should be taken as unreliable, but also that the most dangerous sparks aren't the flashy, fire and brimstone assholes. It's the consistent, intelligent ones who know when to back off and when to press that are the real danger, and it's for this reason that the continent fears Heterodynes. Not because they're uniquely capable of destruction, but because they know when not to destroy.

The Heterodynes are the oldest dynasty in Europa. To everyone with the slightest understanding of how sparks work, this is terrifying.

Also, here's a post that tries to answer why the Heterodynes are uniquely like this. You should read it. It partially inspired this.

[vienssunshine]

The dialogues you write for maki are so goddamn heavenly, please, what is it like when her girl squirts on her glasses (bonus if in the next morning, everyone in the dormitory heard them)? 😣🙏

Just Can't Focus

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader nsfw: semi-public sex, cunnilingus, squirting word count: 1.8k author’s note: thank you so much for the request! you're so sweet!! i had a lot of fun adapting your request into a fic, hope you enjoy! also, maki looked so good in the latest episode. i need her... description: something about watching you train gets maki so riled up.

The day has been long. 

Nothing slows down time quite like having to hold a plank, and Gojo, who’s in charge of training you and your peers today, has been making the hours crawl by with countless strength training exercises. Your core is aching and your legs feel like they’re about to give out, which is why it feels a blessing when your teacher gets a phone call that pulls him away into a meeting with the higher-ups.

“Pair up and find a place around campus to practice sparring while I’m gone,” Gojo instructs, “We’ll meet back up in 30. Don’t forget to have fun!” He waves as he heads towards the school, leaving you and the other exhausted students alone in the field.

Nobara turns her head to you, about to speak, when an arm interlocks with yours. You look to your side to see that Maki has claimed you as her partner.

“Maki!” Nobara huffs, “I wanted to spar with her.”

Maki shrugs. “Be quicker then.” 

Nobara’s face darkens with a scowl and you hurry to resolve the conflict. “I’ll spar with you next time,” you tell Nobara, “Promise.”

“You better.” She crosses her arms and walks towards the other sorcerers, annoyed she’ll have to partner up with either idiot #1 or idiot #2 (Yuuji or Megumi). 

“Let’s go find a spot,” Maki says, though she begins pulling you off towards a forest nearby, seemingly already having a place in mind. 

Soon you’re past the tree line, and before you can get a word out about the sparring drill, your back is pressed up against a tree and Maki’s lips are on yours. 

It catches you by surprise—Maki tends to be unpredictable, a reason why it’s hard for you to beat her in a match—but it’s instinctive how you fall into the rhythm of her lips, melting into her touch as you kiss her back. Her leg nestles between yours and her strong hands land on your sides, brushing along the curve of your waist as she leans into you. 

“Need you…now,” she mumbles in between kisses, the rasp of her voice confessing desperation. Even though you and Maki have been a thing for a while now, she knows how to mask her true feelings, so until she had you pinned against a tree, you didn’t have a clue that such a need was building up in her all afternoon. 

“Yeah?” you say, resting your arms atop her built shoulders, pulling her closer. “Can’t wait until after training?”

Maki tugs off her uniform jacket, leaving her in the white long sleeve she wears under her uniform, and lays it on the grass by your feet. “No, so come sit down.”

Her mouth is inseparable from yours as she helps lower your body down onto her jacket, and the moment you’re sitting down, she’s kneeled between your thighs, reaching up past your skirt to dip her fingers into the waistband of your black tights. 

“Lift up your hips for me, pretty,” she murmurs against your lips. You listen, and she pulls your tights off, and then your underwear. It’s a little strange, how you’re half-naked in one of the school’s forests, but you have a hard time caring when Maki hooks her arms underneath your thighs and brings her mouth to your cunt.

“Already so wet for me,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvis, “Have you been thinking about me too?”

“Maybe,” you say, though the evidence speaks for itself. How could you not? For the entirety of the strength training session, all you could notice was Maki. With the way her defined muscles flexed as she worked through Gojo’s ceaseless exercises, it was impossible not to. You had to look over and take in how the effort contorted her elegant features, had to hear how it sharpened her breath. And every single time you glanced over to her, without fail, she was already looking at you.

“You were just as distracted,” you say, trying to keep still despite the sensation of her hot breath fanning against your cunt. “You really should be paying attention during training.”

She smirks. “I think it’ll be easier to focus after I have you cum on my tongue.”

Her warm mouth connects with your folds, forcing a choked gasp from your throat. You rock your hips back and away, caught off guard at how quickly sharp pleasure cuts through your insides, but Maki’s strong arms keep you locked in place. Her eyes flutter shut at the contact and she deeply inhales, finally gratified after wanting to be with you like this all afternoon.

Your head lolls to the side when she begins to move, licking long stripes up from your hole to your clit with a flat tongue. Pulling up the fabric of your skirt gives you an unobstructed view and you watch, eyes lidded, as she pushes her mouth further into your cunt, just unable to get enough. Then she pushes her palms gently against your thighs, opening yourself up further to her. You allow it, legs falling open, and lean back against the tree behind you.

“There we go,” she says, “Relax for me, okay?” 

You realize why when a finger circles the outside of your hole. Maki’s tongue continues to bathe your clit with wet swipes of her tongue, only increasing the amount of slick coating your opening. She uses this lubrication to shallowly slip the tip of her finger in and out of you, stimulating the tight ring of muscle circling your entrance. Then, she lengthens her movements, pushing in deeper with every thrust of her fingers. Your breath comes out shaky. “Fuck…Maki…”

She begins to move her finger inside of you, pushing it up against your walls in a way that has heat rushing to your lower stomach. Your eyes flutter shut and each pump of her finger pushes a soft moan from your lips.

“If you wanted to make it up to me for being such a distraction all afternoon, those pretty noises of yours are doing the job,” Maki says.

She adds another finger, which only makes you call out her name once more in that breathy voice of yours she adores. The pressure is immense, especially with her fingers being so strong and precise. 

“It’s…so much-” you say, pressing your eyebrows together. You don’t think you’ve had Maki eat you out and finger you at the same time before; the sensation is overwhelming. Every harsh thrust of her fingers is complemented by a sweet lick on your clit, a two-front war that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. Any attempt at escaping the pleasure is nonexistent with Maki’s hold on you, and soon your stomach is twisting, like a violent undercurrent is ripping through your lower half. It’s new, and more intense than you’ve experienced before. 

“Maki I…I feel weird…” you say, squirming. 

“You’re doing great, pretty girl,” Maki responds before diving her tongue into your folds once more.

“I’m serious…Maki…I don’t know…” Your fingers tighten in the grass around you.

“Does it feel good?” Maki asks.

“Feels…s’good,” you respond.

“Then relax, enjoy it.” 

You want to listen to her, you really do, but there’s a hesitant voice in your head, one telling you that if you give in to the pleasure, you’ll be giving in completely. You’re just so full; there’s so much pent-up energy in your body that’s begging to be released. But the more she touches you, the more encouragement and praise leaving her mouth, the less power you have over the force building up inside your core. 

“I feel like I’m gonna…” 

She curls her fingers inside you, pressing against your sweet spot with a force that has your body shaking and seconds away from release.

“Fuck—Maki—m’gonna—“

You’re unprepared when your orgasm hits you, and because it hits you hard, you’re helpless when fluid rushes out of you at the intense sensation. You throw your head back, pleasure rolling through your lower half and being expelled from your body. Unaffected, Maki continues to finger fuck you, only prolonging the ruthless orgasm she’s sending through your body.

“Attagirl,” Maki says, grinning. 

You’re swearing, or moaning, maybe a mixture of both, as the climax pummels your poor body, and you hold onto Maki’s arms for dear life, fingers digging into the fabric of her white long sleeve.

When her movements slow, coaxing you back into reality, the haze washes off and you realize that you’ve squirted for the first time–all over Maki’s face.

You sit up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—fuck, your glasses.”

She cuts you off. “It’s hot, pretty. Don’t apologize for something you don’t have to, mkay?” She takes her glasses from her face and rubs the liquid coating them off on her jacket beneath you. 

“I’ve just…that’s never happened before,” you say, still reeling from the sensation.

“Makin’ me feel special,” she says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, she stands, offering you her hand. “Are you okay to walk? Everyone should be regrouping by now. I think if we stay any longer, I’ll want to try to make that happen again.”

“Uh…yeah, let’s go,” you say, grabbing onto it and letting her help you up. You’re still grappling with what just happened; you didn’t even know that could happen. 

Dazed, you find your underwear on the sleeve of Maki’s jacket, uncrumple it, and pull it back up on you.

“Thanks for that,” Maki says, threading her hand into yours for the rest of the walk out of the forest.

You and Maki are the last to join the group. Aside from Gojo, who’s meeting must’ve run long. Guess training ends early today.  

As you walk up to the rest of the sorcerers, Yuuji tilts his head and then points at Maki, “Did you lose your jacket?” 

Your eyes widen as you realize that Maki isn’t wearing it, she’s still in her button-up. Though, it’s not like she could put it back on, your fluids had soaked the material. “I took it off when we were sparring. Guess I forgot it,” she responds.

“Is that why you took off your tights too?” Panda asks, pointing to your bare legs. Heat rushes to your face.

Maki scowls. “Last chance to mind your own or I’ll be your sparring partner next time.” 

“Alright! Okay!” The rest of them hurry off but fail to do a good job pretending they aren’t whispering about the two of you.

“I’ll go grab our clothes and put them in the wash, so you go take a break okay?” She grins. “I hope I didn’t work you too hard.”

“How considerate,” you tease, “But I would prefer it if you came back to my room after doing the laundry. Maybe then you’ll be able to tire me out.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”