thedarlingsdepartment

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i have seen the clois kitchen makeout kiss on my tl more than i have seen my family this month

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life is worth living (finally got superman on very very legal movie websites)

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oh black nail polish mike i think of u every day

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modern patrick zweig who buys a cameo from the costco guys after the stanford incident

"we're so sorry to hear about your girlfriend breaking her knee and your lifelong homoerotic best friend choosing her over you on the off chance he'll get into her pussy and now you suck at tennis and can barely afford this cameo, you get five big booms! BOOM 💥 BOOM 💥 BOOM 💥 BOOM 💥 BOOOOOOMMMMMM 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥"

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thinking david corenswet is hot is the most embarrassing reputation ruining annoying thing I could have done tbh like ohhh my god really? tall big muscles dark hair and blue eyes kind man is hot? god fucking really. are you fucking stupid I hate myself. oh you think superman is hot? fucking superman? groundbreaking type shit going on here oh my god he’s tall should we tell everyone he’s tall and his jaw is nice wow she thinks the attractive man is attractive. you and everyone else. is pizza your favorite food too. fuck you. everyone look at her she thinks SUPERMAN is hot boundaries are really being pushed over here should we get her a medal because she thinks Mr Smile is easy on the eyes. “hear me out” and it’s a fucking marching band. should we call people magazine. vanilla. I DISGUST myself. summer blockbuster. I should be killed

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Okay, so like what if Lex is super protective of reader because reader is just a normie-girl version of Clark Kent personality-wise but he’s not handling it well cause he realizes he has a thing for the sweetest yet dumbest (in his eyes) people in the world. Like he’s in a cold sweat over it lol.

omg i love this

cw: suggestive, non-graphic mentions of sex, possessiveness, morally dubious behavior (duh), reheating of the “where’s the dog” scene nachos. the name ‘trey durham’. mb if that’s your name gang. pet names (darling and doll). not proofread. lowkey a flop.

Lex was losing it. Lex Luthor, the man who built an empire with his bare hands, the man who shot first and asked questions later, the king of the world….was losing it. How could you, so gorgeous and obviously bright in your profession, be such an idiot? It was completely irrational, and Lex hated the irrational. He loathed that which he could not dissect and examine and sort into neat little boxes. That obsession with control may have been paradoxically the reason for his clandestine affinity towards you. You plagued his dreams and lingered behind his eyes regardless of how he willed you away.

It all began about a week prior. Some godawful coworker of yours had requested you join him on a “friendly lunch”. Lex was familiar with this…friend and regarded with him complete disgust. He was some pathetic, weak-willed zygote of man, with lustful eyes that lingered on your body in all the wrong places.

Lex tried not to care. He focused on things that mattered, and you didn’t matter. Buying out Viacom to pushing anti-metahuman messages, staring at Superman stats until he couldn’t see straight, speaking to congress about metas…that’s what mattered. That’s what he so desperately needed to focus on. Then came the dream.

Under the black cover of the night, bodies undulated rhythmically. They glistened; their moans playing like a cruel chorus. As Lex drew closer, he saw the man. Your coworker, his jaw slack with pleasure as he let a shaky moan. Lex’s eyes trailed up and saw…you. Body bare as you tossed back your head, letting out a sigh of content on another man….

Lex woke his a start. Those sapphire eyes a frenzy as he fumbled with his phone, damn near falling out of bed in the process. Cold sweat slicked his forehead as his fingers pounded out a phone number.

“Paul!”

Static crackled on the other end of the line. “Luthor…it’s 2 am…”

Lex gave a breathy groan, “Paul, I need you to take someone out for me. His name is Trey Durham. Works at that pathetic dog and pony show they call The Daily Planet.”

A dark chuckle from Paul, “Lemme guess…he batted his eyes at your newest piece of ass.”

He scoffed, brushing off the statement. “Make him disappear.” He stated desperately, more of a plea than an order at this point.

—————————————————————————

“You are a horrible person!”

That was the first thing Lex heard from you, storming into his office with fire in your eyes. You slammed down your hands on his desk, the sound ricocheted like a bullet. “Where is Trey?”

Lex paused, taking a sip of his coffee, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In a fit, you snatched the mug from his hands, sending it flying to the ground. It shattered on the pristine tile floors, black pooling around it. Lex glanced halfheartedly before deciding, “You’re being dramatic, darling.” He stated like a condition, a diagnosis completely and utterly removed from any validity of emotion.

“You killed Trey!” You shrieked through a shaky fit of tears.

Lex rose to his feet and intentionally approached, towering over your pathetic, trembling form. He placed two cold hands atop your shoulders, steadying you to this plane of existence.

“He was my friend…” you managed to murmur out, voice crackling.

Lex gave a pitying scoff, “He wanted to fuck you.”

God, how could you be so stupid, so oblivious to his intentions.

“How do you know….” The words drawled out between your sobs.

A cold hand tilted your head upward. “Dry your tears, darling,” Lex cooed in the most humiliating tone possible. He brushed the your face with the back of his knuckles in a soft caress that felt like worship or possession. “I know that because everyone wants to fuck you, doll. That’s why it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. Gotta protect my property. ‘Kay?” He spoke slowly, smoothing your hair like you were some little girl.

And goddamn…did it work. As you gave the slightest, meager nod, he knew he’d done what he needed to do.

At least for now.

author’s note: guess who’s back…?

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i’m working on a lil smth…

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ovulation cravings

sometimes manspreading is so mmmghhh- like let me sit on you please 

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guess who didn’t write all day because she was rewatching nymphomaniac

(lmao i promise i’ll start posting again soon. i’m currently on vacation and haven’t had much time to write. please don’t kill me with pitchforks darlings)

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Clark Kent request!! Thinking when he came out of the portal with kryptonite poisoning and your holding him as he’s almost lifeless, shallow of breath, not moving, and guards surround you 2 and it’s all angsty as you cradle Clark in your arms screaming in pain at the guards to not touch him🥺 you shell around his body as you try to protect him from any more harm and to be the first to take any hit? But in the end Mr Terrific swoops in to take down the guards, you manage to take Clark to safety he heals and it’s all fluff/angst at the end??

OMG I LOVE IT. definitely getting on this.

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pretty pretty please send requests gang im dying of boredom💔🥀

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no bc why am i thinking of lex luthor at work

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Western nights

Sweet country boy Clark Kent so respectful, so kind you never knew what to do with him.

The rolling fields of cattle and wheat that once made you feel suffocated have slowly become something else entirely.

In your adolescence, this town felt like a cage. Everyone knew everyone’s business, the air was thick with expectation, and the closeness felt like a kind of slow suffocation.

But somehow, Clark always cut through the noise. Like a warm light in the distance, he was there. Steady. Gentle. Otherworldly, a quiet angel who cradled you through every dark moment without ever asking for anything in return.

He’s too good for you. And you’ve always known it.

Where he’s patient, you’re guarded. Where he’s soft, you’re sharp edged. You move through life with a cold indifference that masks a deeper, unspoken ache a crushing insecurity that clouds your ability to see how much he truly needs you.

You weren’t dating. Not really. There were no labels. No definitions.

It wasn’t like you were with anyone else. You didn’t want anyone else. But still, something inside you refused to cross that invisible line. Clark didn’t make you ache in the ways you were used to. He didn’t leave you on read or make you cry in parking lots. He didn’t disappear when things got heavy. He just… stayed.

And somehow, that was scarier than anything.

You didn’t know how to be loved gently. You didn’t know how to be touched without bracing for pain.

He never got angry when you shut down. He never raised his voice when you vanished for days. He simply waited. Waited with those soft, knowing eyes. Waited with open hands, not trying to grab at you just willing to catch you if you ever let yourself fall.

Clark was everything you didn’t think you deserved.

Tonight you showed up on his porch loose limbed, glassy eyed, uncertain of what you needed. Maybe comfort. Maybe closeness. Maybe an answer. Whatever it was, some quiet part of you already knew Clark would give it to you.

The two of you sit on the porch, legs touching just slightly, while the sky fades to velvet above the Kansas fields. The crickets sing, the breeze smells like honeysuckle and hay. And it’s so tender it makes your throat ache.

“Why do you put up with me?” you ask, voice cracking, bitterness creeping into your tone like smoke. “I ghost you, I don’t answer your calls, I don’t tell you what I’m feeling—”

“I know what you’re feeling,” he says softly. “Even if you don’t say it.”

The porch creaks as you shift, heart pounding. You want to run. You want to cry. You want to throw yourself into his arms and let him keep you there forever.

Instead, you whisper, “You deserve someone better.”

Clark moves slowly gentle, deliberate. He slides down from his chair and kneels between your legs like you’re something sacred.

“Don’t say that,” he says, hands settling warm on your knees. “Don’t do that to me.”

You can’t meet his eyes. His voice is too full of love. Too full of pain he never once threw in your face.

“I’m not built like you, Clark,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to be… soft. I don’t know how to stay.”

“You’re here now.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be here tomorrow.”

His breath catches, he rests his forehead against your thigh. His grip tightens slightly, like he’s anchoring you there, afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“Then let me have you tonight,” he murmurs. “Just tonight. No promises. Just you. Me.”

You exhale shakily, like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks.

Your fingers slip into his hair. He shudders under your touch, leaning into your palm like it’s the only safe place in the world. You tug gently, and he looks up at you those blue eyes wide, glassy, honest.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Take me inside,” you whisper.

He rises with you in his arms, carrying you through the doorway like he’s terrified the moment will disappear if he blinks. He lays you on his bed like you’re something breakable. The room smells like cedar and cotton.

He undresses you slowly, no rush, no hunger just awe. His fingertips trace the curve of your shoulder, the line of your waist. Like he’s memorizing you.

Once you’re bare beneath him, he leans back just to look at you. You feel exposed not from nudity, but from the way he looks at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice trembling. “God, I don’t think you even know.”

Goosebumps rise along his arms as he dips back down, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips. Then your throat. Your collarbone. Lower.

He kisses your chest with reverence. His lips trace each ridge of your body like scripture, slow and deliberate. Then finally your thighs. His breath hitches. He kisses the inside of your knee. The soft skin near your hip. And then he pauses, looking up.

You’re already shaking.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

[thedarlingsdepartment]

would we be interested in jack castello x reader?

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angels please send me requests i’m so bored lol

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Ocean Eyes

human!clark kent x reader

love island inspired au

continuation of temptation villa

cw: suggestive, implied smut, horny af reader. hella references to love island and others. self doubt. miscommunication. mild angst.

Welcome back to Temptation Villa! Last episode, America was introduced to a new bombshell, Y/N, who just entered a couple with fan favorite islander Clark. The couple is quicker growing fond of one another, but issues still arise. Tune into tonight’s episode of Temptation Villa!

The Fijian sun crept into the tall bedroom windows. One by one, both couples and singles stirred in their beds. As for you, you felt a reverently soft touch against your temple, “Good morning…” Clark drawled beside you, idly trancing your ribs. You smiled into a kiss before leaving the sweet warmth of the bed, allowing the cold air to envelope.

In quick succession was a journey to the vanity room, where one by one the other girls joined. They practically flooded you with questions, words flying from every angle so fast you barely had time to learn their names.

“How was the kiss?”

“Where’d you get that dress?”

“Have you and Clark done anything yet?”

You answered with the same rapid fire cadence the questions had been asked.

“A-fucking-mazing.”

“Honestly, I think I thrifted it.”

“No, I wish.”

That last one in particular hit close to home, a dull pang in your chest. A mere few hours earlier, you had laid atop of Clark, shamelessly grinding your hips downward as you marked up his neck. You’d been laboring away the last half hour, under the darkness of the sheets. Nipping at his skin, teasing with your tongue, silently begging him to flip you over and have at it. But instead…

“Baby,” Clark’s hand ran through your hair, gently pulling you away from his neck.

“Mhm?” You hummed eagerly, buzzing with excitement. Surely, this was it, right?

Nothing could have prepared you for “We should stop. It’s getting late.”

In the awkward, heavy silence, you got off of him, rolled over, and fell unceremoniously asleep with your tail between your legs.

It was now broad daylight, but of course, you couldn’t help but wonder, “Was Clark physical with Aisha?” You asked aloud to the room, brushing out your hair. You figured it was better to ask while the guys were still away.

Sydney, laser focused on curling her blonde hair, sighed, “I mean…I guess so.”

“You guess so?” Isabel retorted with a dry laugh, “Honey, they fucked on day two.”

As the room erupted to a burst of laughter, meanwhile something inside of you sank. The words twisted like a knife, all too powerful and stabbing of a pain to ignore. Was it a ‘you’ problem? You began to consider it when-

“Hey, I thought I’d bring you breakfast.” There he was. Clark. Drizzled in a warm syrupy sunlight, with those diamond eyes that dared you to get lost. You took the plate from him, honing your gaze to the beautifully arranged orange slices and avocado toast, with the peel wrapped around the edge like a ribbon. How did hands, so large and all encompassing, manage to work so delicately? “Oh my god, that’s so sweet of you.”

He gave a dorky shrug, “My pleasure.”

Leo entered, english accent crisp as ever, “My pleasure?” He laughed, making his way to Sydney as he passed Clark, “Hey loser!”

“You’re a loser,” Clark spoke in response, eyes trained on you as he placed a light kiss to your shoulder. He rose, just barely stopping by your ear to murmur, “Want to go for a chat?”

You stood up, smoothing out your hair and grabbing your plate. “Of course.”

The two of you made your way across the villa. Beneath the sun, Clark was a god with shoulders dusted in sunburn and freckles. You silently longed to write your name along his spine, to mark him ‘yours’.

As it turns out, your fixation with ownership was distracting you from his actual words.

“…and that’s why I feel like to really understand Anakin as a character you need to…” Clark trailed off, eyes finding their way back to you. “Sorry, I lost ya there,” He chuckled sheepishly, “You probably think I’m such a nerd.”

“No,” You spoke a beat too soon, shedding a light on your desperation. The last thing you needed was him thinking you were uninterested, especially considering his reluctance to do anything more than kiss the previous night. “What were you talking about?”

He laughed, “Nothing, just…Star Wars.” Clark said with a lopsided grin.

You paused, a smile blooming beneath the surface, “No shit! I love Star Wars.”

His eyes lit up, juvenilely joyful, “Wait, like actually? What’s your favorite?” The question was uttered with the tone of a friendly challenge.

“Revenge of the Sith! I mean what it did for Anakin’s character totally can recontextualize the whole original trilogy…” Your voice faded as you found his gaze, soft and reverent. Clark was looking at you like you’d hung the fucking sun. “What?” You teased, running your nails down the length of this arm.

He caught your hand and redirected it to his chest, “I dunno,” The sun swallowed him whole, basking him in its glow like a halo. He parted his lips to speak again when…

“I GOT A TEXT!” Charlie’s voice declared from half way across the villa, “All islanders please meet by the fire pit for an urgent announcement!” He recited.

Clark gave a dramatic sigh before reaching his arms out to you, “Well then…C’mere.”

You chuckled, “Huh?”

“Lemme carry you. We’ll go quicker and-“

He cut himself off, hoisting you by your thighs onto his torso and making a break for it. You let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, your legs and arms wrapping around him instinctively, “Clark!”

“What?” He teased with a shit-eating grin.

You tucked your head under his chin, taking in the scent of him, all salt air and sweetness.

“Wow, what a man,” Isabel whooped as you neared the fire pit with the other islanders. Clark set you down softly, “You okay?”

“Never been better,” The words melted into his mouth as you pressed a kiss to his lips.

Clark took a seat on the lounger, legs parting as he leaned back. His blue trunks left little to the imagination under the glow of broad sunlight and oh my God you wanted to make home in his lap.

Before you could decide whether straddling Clark in public after knowing him for twelve hours was trashy, Temptation Villa host Jacob Baker was back. “Hello again, islanders!”

He recited the words like memorized lines. It was all a performance. “I have a very special treat for you all today. Specifically, for two of you.”

The group bristled, holding in a collective breath.

“America voted for their favorite couple to send on a date…” The air grew thicker with anticipation.

“And by a last minute landslide…Y/N and Clark!”

—————————————

It was beautiful. A beach picnic with the peachy canopy of a fijian sunset. The birds were whistling a sappy serenade, and the air tasted like lovesick poetry. “Clark…” You prepositioned, studying him as he slathered a croissant in cinnamon butter and strawberry jam. You pushed back his adorable damp curls, leaning in. He cut you off with a bite of croissant, “Try this.”

It was lovely. Really. Warm and sweet, melting on your tongue. “Mmm, Clark that’s great!” You mumbled into another bite.

He smiled coyly, “I’m glad you like it. Um…when I was a kid, Ma would always make me a piece of toast with cinnamon sugar and strawberry jam on it when I was sad and it’s not exactly the same or anything but…”

You chuckled, “Ma?”

“My mom,” Clark laughed, “Sorry, my farmboy roots are showing.” His eyes trailed you with an unmistakable want as he beckoned you closer, “C’mere.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You were on him. Legs straddling that toned torso, finally away from the watchful eyes of the others. It was an angry clash of lips. When you slipped your tongue past his, you tasted desperation. So it began. You made your way south; violet marks blossomed along his neck in your wake. Clark hesitated before slipping his hands lower to find your ass, “This okay?” He whispered breathlessly.

“I dunno…” You teased against his skin, slowly trancing your fingers down before palming him gently through his trunks, “Is this okay?”

The switch flipped. He released a sharp inhale, throwing his head back. You thought it was going great. It should have been going great. Then…you felt it. That warm soft hand, pushing you away.

Clark was pushing you away.

“Hun…we can’t.” His eyes were soft and his voice was softer.

Something inside of you clicked. Sometimes messy and rude and gross. Something you’d been so desperately trying to keep hidden. “Clark!” The words spilled out, hot and angry, before you could stop them. “You fucked Aisha on day 2! Day 2! And now that its me…” Your voice was shaky, anger giving way to tears, “now that its me you don’t want to do anything and-“

“I reget what I did with Aisha!” Clark sliced down your words with his own, voice rising. Wind fresh off the ocean sent a chill through the both of you as he took a steadying breath. “I regret it, and I don’t want to make that same mistake because I can’t mess up things with you.”

A heavy silence fell over the beach as you stared into that kind face and all you could say was, “I’m sorry.”

Clark pulled you into his chest, smoothing your skin, “It’s okay, pretty girl.” He whispered into your hair. He looked down at you with those dimples and yet again you melted, fading into him like a second skin.

At the end of the day, it truly was okay. You were curled up with Clark by the seaside, staring into those ocean eyes as the sun set in the west. In the vast expanse of your mind, one thought remained.

You could stay like this forever.

author’s note: and what if my mental image of jacob baker is corny collins from 2007 movie musical hairspray in a slutty crochet polo? then what?

tags: @cinnamongmm @animegamerfox @clarksweetheart