imaginers221

[imaginers221]

STARLIGHT // SUPERMAN HEADCANONS. CLARK KENT & JOURNALIST!READER.

content: just fluff, pure pure fluff. It's the biggest vomit of love lmao im sorry but i'm in love at this time so deal with it. I don't dare to write smut yet (i'm very rusty lol), + we don't accept snyder fans!clark here — sorry not sorry — this is the clark who would rescue a kitten from a tree so....

word count: 0,4k (almost 500 words)

notes: i'm testing the waters in the dc fandom, even though it's been too long since I've written in it, but the superman trailer is my new obsession and I can't wait for july. the brat summer hits hard, but the superman summer hits harder.

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

☆ You keep pretending not to notice when he leaves your apartment, and five minutes later "Superman" shows up to make sure you got home safe from your late assignment.

☆ Clark literally melts whenever you call him "Superman" in a teasing tone. like—he’s supposed to be the man of steel, but his knees go weak the second you smirk and say, “What’s the plan now, Superman?"

☆ You learned pretty quickly that dating the man of tomorrow comes with random date night interruptions. But he always makes it up to you. Like one time he flew in from stopping a train derailment with pastries from Paris and an "I'm sorry I missed our dinner" post-it stuck to your laptop".

☆ He’s so soft for you. Like, he’ll listen to you rant about Lex Luthor and his stupid company for an hour and then say, “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” with the most adoring look in his eyes.

☆ He's ridiculously good at remembering everything. birthdays, deadlines, how you take your coffee, and your favourite quote. He once quoted your own article back to you when you were doubting yourself, and you cried. He freaked out. tried to fly to get flowers or something.

☆ One time you tried to surprise him by bringing him lunch to the Daily Planet, and he got so flustered he nearly knocked over his desk. “You... you brought me food?” He blinked like krypto when he acts like never been fed before. Now he talks about it like it was a grand romantic gesture and not just an stupid sandwich.

☆ You once told him, half-asleep, that flying with him felt like dreaming while awake. Now he always asks, “Wanna go dream?” before lifting you into the sky.

☆ He sometimes reads over your drafts while you're out cold on the couch. leaves little notes in the margins like “love this part,” “so proud of you,” or “you spelt ‘crimes’ wrong, but you’re still my favourite reporter.”

☆ He lives for when you adjust his glasses or fix his tie before a press conference. It’s the only time he lets the whole “Clark Kent” act drop just a little and looks at you like you’re his whole world.

☆ Sometimes when you’re deep into writing, completely zoned out, he lands silently on your balcony and just watches you work for a minute—arms crossed, head tilted, that soft “I can’t believe she’s mine” smile on his face. When you finally notice him, he acts like he hasn’t been standing there like a lovesick puppy for the last five minutes.

☆ On your worst days at the paper, when deadlines crush you and the world feels heavy, he wordlessly picks you up and flies you above the clouds. No noise, no pressure—just the two of you, floating in golden light. “All of that can wait,” he whispers. “You can’t.”

[imaginers221]

౨ৎ꣑ৎshower with clark౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

The hiss of the spray raining from the shower head loosened your taut muscles, and you released a sigh. Tilting your head back, you hummed softly, lifting your hands to smooth hair back from your face. You'd run a brush through before you stepped in, conscious of the tangles that would appear once you were done washing.

This was your safe place, where all the stress of the day melted into nothingness, swirling down the drain with anything else you'd collected during the day. You were long overdue for an everything shower, having skipped it for the past few days. There was nothing worse than a rushed shower. You wanted to take your time, to really relax. After the week you'd had, you felt you deserved it.

When the door clicked open, you perked up, pulling back the curtain and poking your head out. Water dripped from your hair onto the tile, but you hardly cared, a tired smile drawing your lips up.

Clark was rubbing his eye with one hand, stepping forward to cup your damp cheek with the other. "Baby." His voice was no more than a mumble, and your eyes wandered over him. Curls stuck to his forehead, wearing nothing except a pair of boxers.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned against the side of the shower, tilting your head into his touch. "Wanna come in?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah." You slid the shower curtain aside, watching him kick off his boxers before he got in. The water flattened his hair, and you reached up to push it out of his eyes.

Clark opened his arms, and you fell into them, pressing your cheek to his warm chest. One big hand smoothed over your hair, and he kissed the top of your head. "You left."

"I'm sorry, baby," you said softly, burrowing into him. "I didn't think you'd wake up."

His chin settled atop your head. "You can wake me up for showers. I like this. I love this," he corrected himself after a moment.

You tilted your head up, his arms around your back holding you upright. "I love it too."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, eyes on the wall behind you. "You have a lot of pink soap."

"Mhm," you hummed, resting your cheek on his chest again. He'd never commented on it before, but it made you smile.

Clark's thumb rubbed up and down your lower back. "Is that why you always smell like a donut?"

A happy giggle bubbled up from your chest. "Donut?"

There was a pause, and he adjusted his arms comfortably around you. "You know...sweet."

"Yeah," you responded lazily, looking up at him. His eyes were sleepy, and you lifted your hands to cup his face. "Wanna try some?" The black and grey bottles of his own soap were lined up neatly next to yours, but you offered anyways. "Just one?"

Pausing for a moment, Clark used his fingers to scratch your back, and you nearly melted. "Which one?"

Reaching out from the confines of his arms, you plucked one up. "This one. Bodywash."

He leaned his cheek against your head, inhaling softly. "Okay." You squealed, causing him to jolt just slightly, but he shook it off and took the bottle from you. When you looked back up at him, he was smiling.

Showering with Clark wasn't an uncommon occurrence. You easily maneuvered around each other, swapping places on the shower bench and under the head. You borrowed the body wash back to shave, and he scrubbed at his curls, closing his eyes to rinse out his soap. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, from the firm contours of his body, and how it looked when water was dribbling down his chest.

You knew him in every form- as the invincible hero and the quiet writer. Underneath it all was something soft, a man who melted under your touch and held you like a teddy bear at the end of every day. And here he was, rubbing your sugar cookie body wash all over him and grinning at you when he saw you watching. Clark's skin was thick, untouchable, but in times like these you could see his heart. It was bigger and brighter than anything you'd ever come across before.

You stood up for one more rinse, feeling clean and fluffy like you always did after a good wash. Clark capped the bottle he was holding, taking the razor from you and setting it on the pale pink shower caddy. He reached for you. "C'mere, honey."

Gladly, you settled back into him, feeling almost cocooned. He pressed a few kisses to your head, swaying back and forth so subtly it almost felt like a dream. Images of clouds and pastel rainbows and white fur blankets filled your mind like fog. This was always how it felt around him. Safe. Anywhere else you'd be on high alert, but when you were tucked away into him, your mind lapsed. It was like your body knew you were protected.

Getting out, Clark wrapped one of your fluffy towels around you before drying himself off. You covered your torso, reaching for your vanilla lotion, but he got to it first. "Let me?" When you nodded, he lifted you onto the counter, big hands on your waist, and knelt before you. While he worked on the first leg, you made quick work of brushing your hair, setting it to the side so you could look at him again. Leaning back on your hands, you watched him with sleepy eyes. The feeling of his hands on your smooth legs was a bonus to the calm you already felt.

He had you in his arms once he was done, and the trip to your room was a blur until he set you down into your bed, gentle and loving as always. The towel was removed, and he worked a shirt over your head, panties up your legs. With his hand under your head, Clark guided you to lay down, only leaving you for a second and reappearing on your other side to gather you into his arms. He smelled like your body wash.

The moon was glowing through the slit in the curtains, and you turned in his arms to push your head into his chest, hiding from the light. The overwhelming feeling of being taken care of flooded you, and you felt more relaxed than in months.

An 'I love you' was whispered into your hair before you drifted off. You squeezed his hand over your tummy. When you weren't half asleep in the morning, you'd make sure to say it back.

[imaginers221]

➤𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗔𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗵𝘆 ||

A/n:Pure filth, I got nothin to say so enjoy 🫡

Tag List: @strawberrydeersimp

The war was over.

Snow was dead. Coin, too.

The Capitol lay in ruins, the rebels scattered in half-celebration, half-confusion. You stood in the remains of what had once been power—glass underfoot, the air heavy with smoke and blood and the weight of too many names.

Haymitch found you in a storage room beneath the rubble of what used to be a government building. No words. Just the creak of a door, the low thud of his boots, and that goddamn look in his eyes. Like something inside him had snapped years ago, and now whatever was left had finally shattered.

“You’re still alive,” he said. Not a question. Not even relief. Just fact, rough in his throat.

You nodded, barely breathing. You both knew what that meant.

He moved first. Fists in your jacket, yanking you forward, mouth crashing against yours like a threat. Teeth clashing, tongues fighting, nothing gentle. You responded in kind—biting his lower lip, digging your fingers into his shirt like you could rip the pain out of him.

He turned you, slammed you against the concrete wall, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His hands were all over—desperate, shaking, angry. Not at you. At the world. At himself.

“This doesn’t fix shit,” he growled into your neck, voice like gravel, hands already shoving your pants down. “But I need it. I need you.”

You didn’t answer—just grabbed his belt, unbuckling with fingers that trembled from adrenaline or want or both. His cock was hard already, hot against your thigh, and when he finally pushed into you, you gasped—more from the suddenness than the stretch.

There was no rhythm, no buildup. Just need.

He fucked you like he wanted to forget—fast, brutal, punishing. Your back scraped against the rough wall, and you welcomed the sting. His breath was ragged in your ear, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You clawed at his back, left scratches, made him feel it.

“Say my name,” he hissed.

“Haymitch—”

“Louder.”

“Haymitch!” you cried, head falling back, voice echoing in the dead city.

He came with a choked-off moan, collapsing into you, both of you a tangled mess of sweat, blood, and ash. For a moment, neither of you moved. His forehead pressed against yours, the rise and fall of your chests the only sign of life in the silence.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you. Eyes wild, haunted.

“This world’s fucked,” he muttered.

You cupped his face, rough and unkind. “So fuck it back.”

It was days later after your comment, the words still ringing in his ear.

“So fuck it back."

Haymitch didn’t say a word when he grabbed you again that night. The war was over, but the fire still burned in his veins. You followed him into another half-destroyed room in the Victor’s Village, the floor dusty, furniture broken. Didn’t matter. Nothing did except the way he looked at you like you were the last thing tethering him to this fucked-up world.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice rough as he shoved you back onto the mattress. “You don’t get what you do to me.”

His mouth was on you before you could speak—biting, devouring, like he wanted to consume every part of you. Clothes came off in frantic, angry motions. He manhandled you like you were his to take—and you were. Right now, you wanted to be.

He shoved his cock inside you with a growl, no teasing, no pause. Just raw, thick pressure and the slap of skin on skin.

“You think I can let you walk around like this,” he rasped in your ear, hips snapping forward with bruising force, “dripping from me and not do something about it?”

You gasped, back arching. He drove into you deeper, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you,” he growled. “My baby. Gonna fill you up and make sure everyone knows who fucking owns you.”

“Do it,” you moaned, eyes glassy, body quaking. “Fill me. Make me yours.”

That broke something in him.

He snapped—fucking you harder, hips relentless, hands bruising your thighs as he spread you wider, deeper. Every thrust was possession. Every groan was a promise.

“Gonna knock you up right here, in the ashes of everything. Leave my cum leaking out of you for days. You want that?”

“Yes—fuck, yes, Haymitch—”

He pressed his forehead to yours, voice low and rough. “You’re gonna take it all. Every drop.”

And when he came—he poured into you. Hot, thick, endless. You could feel him pulse, spilling everything inside you as he kept thrusting, fucking it deeper, grinding through every wave. Like he needed to make sure it took.

You were wrecked. Used. Marked.

And he still didn’t pull out.

Instead, he stayed there, still hard, still inside. One hand on your belly.

“Maybe if I breed you full,” he murmured, voice quieter now, rawer, “you won’t disappear with the rest of the world.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, just as rough, just as broken.

“Then do it again.”

He never pulled out.

Even as you trembled beneath him, skin slick with sweat, your body pulsing with aftershocks, Haymitch stayed buried to the hilt. Still hard. Still hungry.

His breath ghosted against your throat. You could feel the low growl in his chest before he even spoke.

“Still not enough.”

You barely managed a sound—something between a whimper and a plea—but it didn’t matter. He rolled his hips slow and deep, and you arched helplessly beneath him.

“Gotta make sure it sticks, sweetheart,” he said, voice slurred with exhaustion and lust. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to fuck you round after round until I breed you right?”

You nodded, dazed, raw, wrecked. “Yes. Please. Again.”

That was all he needed.

He grabbed your hips, pulled out just far enough for you to feel the mess he’d left inside you—then slammed back in, dragging a cry from your throat. There was no mercy in him now. Just need. Just instinct.

He fucked you like he was running out of time. Like putting his seed in you was the only thing keeping him sane.

You could feel it pooling inside already, every thick, hot thrust forcing it deeper. He pinned your legs back, pushing your knees to your chest, getting deeper, deeper still. You cried out his name, over and over, mind unraveling with every round.

“Look at you,” he panted, sweat dripping onto your skin. “So full, so fucking open for me. You want to be bred. Made for it.”

His second orgasm hit harder—he bit your shoulder, hands gripping your thighs like anchors as he spilled another load inside you, grinding through it, hips twitching, not stopping.

Not done.

Not even close.

He shifted you to your side, wrapping a leg over his hip, still hard inside. He fucked you slow this time—but it was worse. Deeper. Possessive. So fucking intimate you almost sobbed.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your ear, his voice like smoke and whiskey and ash. “That’s two loads. And you’re still clenching. Greedy little thing.”

You whimpered, overstimulated, fucked-out. “Haymitch—can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He pressed a hand to your belly. “Still room in there. Gonna keep going until you’re leaking down your thighs for days.”

Round three came slower. More drawn out. He kissed you through it, hands all over you, possessive and tender in the most fucked-up way. When he came again, he didn’t thrust—just pushed in deep, groaning like it hurt.

You could barely move. Could barely think. Your thighs were shaking, slick and soaked, your cunt stuffed full and twitching around him.

And still… he didn’t stop.

“Think you can give me one more?” he whispered, nipping your ear. “Just one more, baby. One more and I’ll plug you up, keep it in.”

You nodded, delirious. “Yes… fill me again…”

He chuckled darkly, and started to move.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d finished inside you.

Your body was wrecked—slick, shaking, sensitive beyond reason. Every inch of your skin buzzed, raw and tender from his hands, his mouth, his claim.

And still, Haymitch wasn’t done.

He had you straddling his lap now, thighs trembling, knees braced on either side of his hips. He sat back against the ruined headboard, sweat-soaked hair pushed off his face, his eyes locked on where you were slowly sinking back down onto him.

“You hear that?” he rasped, hands gripping your ass. “That’s you—sloshing with my cum. And you’re still taking me. Still opening up like a good little breeding whore.”

You whimpered, the filth of his voice flooding through you just as deep as his cock.

He was so thick, and you were so full. His previous loads were leaking out around his length, making a wet, obscene mess between your thighs—and he loved it. Every inch that slipped back inside sent another rush of heat spiraling through your core.

He bounced you once—hard—and you cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Nuh-uh. No running,” he growled. “You asked for this. Said you wanted to be plugged full. So here—”

He shifted, slamming you down hard and holding you there. Buried deep. His cock twitching inside your ruined cunt.

“Now sit. Just like that,” he murmured darkly, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other wrapped tight around your throat. “Feel that? That’s all of me. All my cum. Sitting right where it belongs.”

You choked out a moan, so full you could barely breathe. Your belly was taut with pressure, your walls fluttering helplessly around him. It was too much, and not enough.

“Don’t even think about leaking, sweetheart,” he warned, thrusting up into you once, deep and brutal. “I’ll fuck it right back in. Again and again.”

“Haymitch—” your voice broke, eyes fluttering shut.

“No,” he growled. “Eyes on me. Want you to know who did this to you. Want you to remember what it feels like to be bred like you’re mine.”

He held you still, cock twitching inside you, hand firm on your lower belly like he was claiming it. Like he could will it into taking.

And then—he started to move again.

Not frantic. Not even rough this time. Possessive. Slow, deep thrusts while he kept you locked in place, each one designed to push everything back inside.

“You’re not leaking a single drop,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll keep fucking you until your body gives in. Until it takes.”

You moaned, grinding against him, your own body betraying you with need, pulsing around him as another orgasm built—sharp and hot and aching.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Come on my cock while I fill you again. Let me breed you so full your body has no choice.”

You shattered with a scream, and he followed—burying himself to the hilt, grinding through every pulse of his orgasm, spilling inside you for what felt like forever.

You collapsed against him, twitching, unable to move, his arms holding you tight as you dripped and leaked around him.

But still, he stayed inside.

Still plugging you full.

Because Haymitch Abernathy doesn’t just fuck.

He claims.

The light filtering in through the cracked window was soft and gray, the kind of morning that doesn’t feel real—too quiet, too still, like the world is holding its breath.

You woke up in Haymitch’s bed, your body aching in the most exquisite way. Every inch of you was sore, marked, used. Your thighs were sticky, your cunt still messy with the remnants of the night before. Three… no, four times he’d filled you. Maybe more. You couldn’t remember where one orgasm ended and the next began.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the dull, sweet ache between your legs.

“Don’t move.”

His voice came from behind you—low, rasped, rough from sleep and sex and cigarettes. A heavy arm looped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You could feel his cock already hard again, nudging the curve of your ass.

“You’re leaking,” he murmured against your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh. He found the mess there, his own cum seeping out of you slow and warm. He brought his fingers up to your lips, smearing it there, watching you with hooded eyes.

“Still fucking full,” he growled, like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen. “But not full enough.”

You whimpered, lips parting as he slipped those fingers into your mouth. You sucked instinctively, tasting salt and sweat and the raw filth of the night before.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “You like this, don’t you? Being ruined. Waking up stuffed with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak with his fingers in your mouth, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for him again already.

“You think I’m gonna let you walk around today dripping with my cum?” he said, dragging your leg over his hip, grinding into your ass. “You think I’m gonna let a single drop go to waste?”

His voice darkened.

“No. Not happening. Gonna fuck it back in until it takes. Until you’re knocked up and glowing with it. Until this whole goddamn world sees what I did to you.”

He pushed into you from behind in one smooth stroke—your body slick, stretched, and ready, even as you gasped from the sudden stretch. He groaned deep in his chest, burying himself inside like he belonged there. And he did.

“Still so tight,” he hissed. “Still fucking mine.”

His pace was slower now—but deeper, possessive. Each thrust a silent brand. His hand moved back to your belly, pressing down to feel himself through your skin, groaning at how swollen you already were from him.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s all me. You’re full of me, inside and out. And I’m not stopping until your body gives me what I want.”

You moaned, helpless against the slow, brutal rhythm. There was no escaping him. You didn’t want to.

“Better get used to waking up like this,” he murmured, mouth hot on your shoulder. “Fucked full. Plugged up. Marked.”

And with that, he thrust harder—deeper—claiming you all over again as the morning light washed over both of you.

Because Haymitch wasn’t just breeding you.

He was keeping you.

"I love you." Haymitch whispered into your neck as he held you close.

"I love you too."

Because after the end of the day, know matter where or how.

He love's you, Haymitch loves you more than anything.

You are his, you are his everything and Haymitch Abernathy was yours.

[imaginers221]

A New View

Pairing: Centaur Boyfriend X Female Reader

Warnings: Size Kink, Creampie

Centaur boyfriend that goes absolutely feral when he fucks you in front of a mirror for the first time. He has seen your face when you’ve cum as he buried his face in your pussy, but he has never watched you cum on his cock.

Because of his size and the difference in your anatomy, you are always beneath him and out of view when he has his cock inside you. So when he builds a breeding mount for you in his home, he has the idea of putting a massive mirror on the wall in front of it.

He always thought he had a good amount of control on his more animalistic desires and actions, but the first time he sees your face screwed up in pleasure as he pushes his cock inside your tight cunt, every bit of restraint he has shatters.

An insatiable need to see you cum on his cock swept through his body as he thrusts into you like a male possessed. His thrusts were brutal as he watched you come undone around him. The sight of you only makes his need stronger. Each orgasm only makes him crave the sight more. 

He doesn’t let you off the breeding mount until hours later when your pussy is gaping and your inner thighs are entirely covered in his cum.

[imaginers221]

BARE (18+)

5 o'clock in the morning. The baby's asleep, there's an hour until Miguel needs to start getting ready to head into the Society, and the city streets are surprisingly calm. It's the perfect conditions for an invigorating last moment of sleep to energise your tired bodies before a day of changing diapers and catching anomalies.

But it's also the perfect conditions for wet, hot, hushed morning sex with your big, strong husband who woke up with such bad morning wood he couldn't just let it go down on it's own. He needed to fuck it out of his system using his pretty little wifey.

You're laying on your side, holding a pillow up to your mouth to muffle your moans and mewls as Miguel rocks on his knees behind your horizontal ass, grinding his heavy balls against your wet folds and the backs of your thighs as he uses his rough hands to pull you back and forth along his meaty dick.

Nightgown bunched up above your chest so that Miguel can perversely stare at your squished tits as they jiggle against the mattress, his boxers hanging by his knees since he was too desperate for the sultry warmth of your perfect cunt to soothe the ache in his thighs after waking up from a heavenly dream where he got to fill you up with your second beautiful child.

He doesn't have the time for it right now, focused on the way you clench and gush around him as the blunt head of his cock massages every deep, blissful, spongy spot inside of you, slowly and sensually ramming himself as far as your tight pussy will accomodate him.

But you better guarantee that the second he gets home tonight and he lays his eyes on his beautiful mama, you'll be filled to the fucking brim and pregnant by tomorrow morning.

inspired by my horrendous case of morning wap 😔

[imaginers221]

Tie a Tie

Clark Kent X Reader

Summary: Clark has to get ready for work but Y/N doesn’t want him to leave.

Warnings: Fluff, Tickling, not proofread, & Anxiety?????

Word Count: 1k

Clark woke up early, as usual, not wanting to disturb me while he got ready for work. He tiptoed around our bedroom, trying to be as quiet as possible while getting dressed, buttoning his suit, and struggling to put his tie on. He mumbled curses under his breath trying to remember which way to loop the tie. In many failed attempts he decided to not wear it. Clark sat on the edge of the bed while tying his shoes. As he leaned down to tie his laces, he felt someone's eyes on him. He turned around and saw me, awake and watching him silently from the bed. A smile spread across his face as he stood up to face me.

"Well, Good morning," he whispered, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I smiled back at him, my tired eyes lingering on his muscular chest as his shirt fit him like a glove.

"What time is it?" I asked, my voice still groggy from sleep.

"It's still early, don't worry about it," Clark replied, grabbing his jacket from the chair beside the bed.

I sat in bed, pulling the covers to my chin while watching Clark. He looked so handsome and confident as he got ready, and I couldn't help but admire him. As he turned around to face me, again.

"What?" I asked, feeling a blush creeping up on my cheeks, I had been caught staring.

Clark chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. Clark leaned down over me, placing his knees on the bed to support him. He looked down at me with a smirk. "What are you looking at?" Clark's voice was barely over a whisper as his hands moved down to my side, holding me in place.

"I was looking at...this really weird guy that's in my room. He's kind of strange, he's like an alien too-" I was being snarky, but before I could finish, his fingers tickled around my stomach. I jumped and started laughing hysterically

I giggled and squirmed under him, trying to push him away. "Stop, stop!" I shouted between laughs.

Clark smiled, he wasn't listening. "Who's this weird guy you're talking about?" He said moving his fingers up my body and tickling me everywhere, "What's his name?" He was being snarky right back to me.

"Okay, okay! You win!" I kicked my legs, quickly out of breath.

Clark finally relented, pulling back and sitting on the bed next to me "That's what I thought," He looked at me with a cheeky grin. I looked up at him and rolled my eyes.

He ran his fingers through my hair, but I was trying not to give in to his charm. Though, the way he played with my hair did feel really nice. His fingers would twirl around my strands of hair and they would move up to massage my scalp.

"Don't you have work?" I asked softly, moving onto his chest. His fingers not letting go of me.

His fingers trailed down my back then back up, creating a pattern on my body. "I don't mind being late." He said looking down at me on his chest. He smiled kissing the top of my head.

"I would rather be with you today, anyway. Perry and Lois have been nagging me to finish this article all week." Clark groaned, lifting his hand up and massaging the bridge of his nose. Him letting go of me left me with a cold feeling, I was already missing his touch.

"What's the article about?" I asked, nuzzling my head into the warmth of his neck.

He chuckled, "Apparently there's this superhero convention coming up, and they want me to write about all the events...all the boring stuff." He sighed.

I shifted positions, I was leaning up against Clark looking into his eyes. My hand reached up and caressed his cheek.

"Just take the day off."

His head rested on my hand, and Clark was sinking back into the bed. "I wish I could, Y/N..."

My hand moved up to play with his hair, his eyes closed, relaxing into my touch.

"Call in sick," I said, trying to think of alternatives so he could stay in bed with me.

Clark held me by my waist and pulled me on top of him. I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through my body. I leaned in to kiss Clark, feeling his lips part against mine as we deepened the kiss.

"I can't..."

I huffed, not wanting him to leave me.

"Shit," Clark whispered, checking the watch on his wrist.

"Hm?" I hummed moving down to kiss his jawline, moving down to his neck my hands moving down his torso.

"I'm going to be la-" I found Clark's sweet spot. He let out a soft whimper feeling my warm lips on his collarbone.

"Y/N" He mumbled. "I have to go..."

I could hear it in his voice, longing. He didn't want to go. He was enjoying this very much, but his anxiety was rising with the belief of being late to work.

He lifted me off of him and placed me down gently on the bed. Clark rushed to the mirror in our room to see what he looked like, his cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess. Clark adjusted his glasses before walking to the door.

"Wait," I said softly getting out of bed.

He turned back around with an anxious smile, trying not to get stressed.

"Your tie," I said picking it up, off the floor. I wrapped it around his neck and tied it for him.

"A big boy like you still doesn't know how to tie a tie." I teased him. Clark rolled his eyes with a smile.

"I love you," I said softly, pulling him down by his tie, I pressed my lips on his. Not wanting to let go.

We pulled back, breathless, and Clark grabbed his briefcase. "I love you too.."

He walked to the door but stopped before turning the handle. He turned back around to me and placed his hands behind my neck pulling me closer to him.

He pushed his lips onto me, moving his hands through my hair and down to my waist before letting go.

"I'll see you tonight."

[imaginers221]

more cute clark kent smut pls 🫶🏼

clever girl...

ೃ⁀➷ clark kent x fem reader ೃ⁀➷ word count 1,086

ೃ⁀➷ summary: co worker clark kent cant help himself!

ೃ⁀➷ warnings: smut!

╰➤ linktree ╰➤ pinterest╰➤ request rules

clark kent considered himself a man in control.

but he could barely restrain himself when it came to you.

he had bad thoughts. dangerous thoughts about you.

you in your pencil skirts and slick hairdos. 

it was a dangerous path for him to go through. you were his coworker. you were human. and you would be put in danger if he decided to go for it. for you.

it was late one night. the both of you working overtime. 

and he could predict it. you would saunter over to his desk. and you would do what you did every day you coincided with him late at night.

“hey kent, why don’t you join me for some drinks?”

and he would usually turn you down. each time with a different comment. but today he was feeling impulsive. he had been feeling down, frustrated with the same cycle of shit from the league. and he felt like blowing some steam with his favorite co-worker.

“you have convinced me ms. y/l/n. where to.”

you froze completely. he grinned, amused. so you definetly were not expecting him to agree. but he was done tip-toeing around his attraction to you.

“um- there’s a bar down the street-”

“mmmh- i don’t think so. how about we go to that restaurant you are always talking about with claudia.”

“the really expensive one downtown?” you frowned in disbelief.

what had brought on this change in routine on your hot co-worker? you asked yourself. you always asked him, expecting the rejection, it was safe, it was a routine.

“only the best for my girl.”

blood heated your cheeks. “who are you and what have you done to my clark?”

“your clark huh?” he smirked.

he heard your already racing heartbeat speed up.

。ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• 。ﾟ

the dinner had been nice. not as nice as him. never as nice as him.

you sat across from each other. your eyes shameless, never straying from him. his piercing blue eyes, perfect hair you wanted to mess up, his shoulders…

clark kent was nothing short of superhuman. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was superman. with his…. your eyes widened in surprise. you laughed out loud. why had you never put it together? well maybe because the thought was outlandish as is.

clark had an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“do the glasses always work to cover your identity?”

his eyes widened in surprise. but he did not get mad like you thought he would. his eyes just darkened. “clever girl.”

without removing his eyes from you, he motioned for the check, ever the gentleman like always, you did not even bother to try and pay.

。ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• 。ﾟ

you made chit-chat as he led you into his apartment, it was nice, more than a daily planet journalist’s salary- you would know. you talked to him about projects you were working on, he made hmms in reply, looking deep into your eyes, eyeing your body with hunger. your words tumbled out faster and more garbled with his eyes on you.

he sat on his couch, legs spread, and you made an effort to not stare at his lap…

clark was a patient man, but he had his limits. he knew the war in his mind would lose. he needed you. you made no sounds of opposition as he yanked you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap, your thighs straddling.

you made a sigh of contentment. your skirt dragged up, your tights tore and he wasted no time in slipping his fingers into the gaps to touch your skin, making the tears wider.

you didn’t know who moved first, but his lips were on yours and he was hungry, messy, needy. it lit you up seeing him lose control.

you slid a hand around his broad shoulders, and another into his perfect hair, messing it up.

one of his hands moved up to your ass. under your rumpled skirt and over your panties. he tore with no regret at your tights, they slowly but surely turned into tattered shreds. 

you whined as you grew conscious of his hardness through his work pants. it felt good. you whined into his mouth.

“please…” 

“please what angel?” his hand gripped your ass, controlling your movements as you humped his lap, whining with each drag of your covered cunt.

“need you inside me.” you felt it, an ache deep in your core, a delicious pounding of pleasure firing your nerves.

he wanted to have you in the bedroom. you deserved more than his couch.

you let him undress you, he muttered praise with each step.

“beautiful girl, prettiest girl, my perfect girl.”

you leaned on your elbows, almost laying down, staring as he carefully removed his own clothing.

when he was bare, he stalked toward the bed. your eyes roaming his beautiful body roaming his skin. he was pure muscle and you needed to feel him on top, inside you. you were already dripping, ready for him, aching.

“look at you, i was stupid to wait. i can protect you, you are mine now, and i take care of what belongs to me.

you chanted his name like a prayer, he crawled over you. you reached to touch him as soon as he was near enough. warm, he was warmer than an average human. 

your eyes never strayed from each other as he aligned his cock with you. he was big, and you need all of him.

your eyes fluttered shut, mouth opening in a gasp as he pushed slowly into you. he clenched his teeth and groaned. eyes never leaving your face.

he was slow the first few storkes, but he lost authority over himself, keeping his strenght in check so as to not harm you, but going fast enough you were screaming. arms wrapped around his strong torso. 

hips punishing. 

hard, fast, and deep. the build-up was quick, and for the first time, you didn’t need any stimulation to your clit. he sent you to heaven with his super powered thrusts.

he made you come twice more before he did. you were loud. you were useless, your limbs giving up and enjoying the ride.

he bit softly into the crook of your neck as he came. you felt his come drip down you, he came and came spasming in your arms.

some visceraly kryptonian and feral part of you claimed you with his saliva, his scent on you and he was never letting you go. 

his sweet, perfect girl…

ೃ⁀➷ reblogs and comments always appreciated 🫶🏻

[imaginers221]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[imaginers221]

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - when snow white (you) escapes into the woods to escape the queen's order to kill, she learns that not all strangers should be trusted.

warning - smut, swearing, choking, under a spell, dubcon, creampie, slight angst, death, breaking and entering, jealousy, oral sex, kidnapping/entrapment, attempted poisoning and murder, group sex, groping, dark content.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The Queen sneers, staring at herself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall.” Her eyes squint, and her back straightens. “Who is the fairest of them all?” The answer she was expecting wasn’t what the mirror gave her. 

“Y/n is the fairest of them all.” The Magic Mirror spoke, a live video of you playing before her, your sweet self hums to the animals, pulling a small bucket from the well, capturing the attention of the many people that pass by. 

“What?!” She screams, and her face becomes red with anger. “No one is more fair than I! The Queen must have the best of everything. Everyone knows that. What could be more fair?” 

“Y/n is the fairest of them all!” The Mirror repeats, not caring for the tantrum the Queen is throwing. 

“What do you know? You’re a mirror!” She huffs, rolling her eyes and storming off. A plan sets in motion as she heads to where the huntsman rests, ordering him to take you out of the equation. 

You had spent your time running through the woods, away from your horrid stepmother and the huntsman that she had sent after you. Your hands clutched your skirt, lifting it from the ground, and your bare feet dodged the many sticks and rocks. Your breath is heavy, and you can hear his footsteps catching up to you. “Little Snow! You can’t run from me! The Queen ordered me to kill you!” You gasp, picking up your pace, desperately trying to distance yourself from him. 

You squeal and cry as your foot gets caught on a root sticking out of the ground. You fall forward, tumbling for a few seconds until you end up on your back. Fat tears cover your cheeks, your eyes are puffy, your hair is ruffled, and your once-beautiful dress is ruined, ripped and dirty. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as the huntsman appears in your vision, “P–please! You don’t have to do this! I–I won’t tell anyone if you let me go! Please!” You cry you beg, you plead. Your hands curl into the ground, crushing the dirt into your palms. You don’t notice the magic flowing through you and into the ground. You are so caught up in begging the man not to take your life. 

He shakes his head. “I have to. I was given an order.” His head continues to shake, clutching the knife as he desperately doesn’t want to kill you. “If I return and the Queen finds out I didn’t obey, she’ll kill me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears slip past, and your lips tremble. You nod, accepting your fate. You wouldn’t be able to escape this. “O–okay. If taking my life means you get to keep yours, okay.” You breathe in and out, a soft sob passing your lips. Your brows furrow as you are met with silence before a crunch and a groan follow it. You slowly peek your eyes open, wondering what caused the noise, and a shocked sob escapes you when you notice a giant black wolf on top of the huntsman. Yellow eyes stare back at you, and you feel oddly calm before standing on shaky legs. It’s as though the animal is giving you enough time to escape. “T–thank you.” You take off running again, the sky becoming dark as night falls, heading in the opposite direction of the castle. 

You happen to stumble across a wooden cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere. You rush forward, rapidly knocking on the door. “S–someone! Is anybody there?! I need help, please!” The door is pushed open from your knocks, and you cautiously enter as you receive no reply, looking around. “Hello?” When you don’t get a response, you decide to take a closer look. “Such a dirty place…” You think out loud, “Maybe if I clean up a bit, whoever lives here may help me.” You nod to yourself and walk over to a broom that rests against the wall and grab hold of it. You get swept away cleaning and then cooking before you slowly make your way upstairs, noticing seven large beds, making you wonder who lives here. 

“I hope they won’t mind if I…” You ponder, going over to a bed that reads ‘CRANKY’ and sitting for what was supposed to be a second. The moment your body hits the mattress, your eyes flutter closed, and a deep slumber hits you with full force. 

You wake to someone or something poking you. Your eyes flutter open, blinking as you notice many different men surrounding you. You gasp, scooting to the headboard, pulling your knees to your chest. “Oh, please don’t kill me! I–I promise I didn’t do anything wrong!” Your bottom lip wobbles and your gaze shoots between theirs frantically, wondering if the Queen also sent them. 

A man with blue eyes and his hair in a man bun scoffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, and your eyes land on one of them being shiny. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my bed?” A growl practically escapes his lips, and his eyes scan your body with a lick of his lips. 

You gasp, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I–” You're cut off as you try to get out, but a larger man stops you. His light blue eyes and blonde hair cause your breath to catch in your throat. 

He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Don’t listen to him, ma’am. We are just startled, is all.” He turns his head, glaring at his best friend before looking back down at you. “Now, why don’t you introduce your pretty self and explain why you think we would kill you?” He sits at the end of the bed, resting a comforting hand on your leg. 

“Oh, I do apologise. Where are my manners? My name is Y/n, but I am more known as Snow White.” The men are shocked, wondering what the princess is doing in their cabin. “The Queen is trying to have me killed, and I don’t know why. S–she sent the huntsman out, and he chased me through the woods until I was able to escape, and that is how I stumbled across your home.” 

A throat clears, and you turn your head to look at another man who’s built like a bear, with pretty blue eyes and blackish hair. “She wouldn’t be trying to kill you for no reason. Tell us what you really did. You can’t really be that innocent.” 

“I–I swear–” The man touching your leg interrupts you, giving you a soft look.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. I can see that you are innocent. I mean.” He looks around at the men with his brows raised. “What innocent person would break into someone’s home and decide to clean and cook? The breaking in part obviously doesn’t sound great, but look at her. She needs help.”

The man with the blackish hair speaks again while nodding. “You’re right. I apologise. We’ve been rude and haven’t introduced ourselves. My name is Clark, but these bastards call me Bossy.”

The man touching your leg smiles. “And I’m Steve, better known as Brawny.” He points to the man with a permanent scowl on his face. “That’s Bucky. We call him Cranky, though.” Bucky rolls his eyes, wondering why the hell they haven’t moved you from his bed yet. Though, he has been having a great time imagining you tied to it while he pleasures you.

Another man with a flirty smile leans against the bed, coming close to your face. “I’m Johnny, yet these guys call me Sleazy. No idea why. I would’ve said Flirty.” Johnny wiggles his brows, loving the shy look that crosses your face.

A man with a beanie and dirty face and hands nods. “I’m Curtis, known as Dirty around these wankers.”

Your eyes land on a man drinking what seems to be alcohol, and his eyes are half-lidded as he stares at you. “I’m Dean or Tipsy. Whatever you prefer, but I’m hoping to make you scream one of them later.” Your eyes widen.

Your attention is pulled away from Dean or Tipsy to a darker man touching your arm, looking at you with a smirk. “I’m Sam, baby. But you can call me Horny.” You blink, stunned, never having heard such words come out of a person’s mouth before, but you know that you cannot judge as you did break into their home.

“O–oh, it’s nice to meet you all. Such interesting names.” You fold your hands in your lap and look around at each one of the men. “I would like to cook you, men, some dinner as a thank you for not kicking me out.” You watch as they nod, and you give a soft smile to Steve, who helps you off the bed. You head down the stairs, and all seven men follow behind, watching your hips sway beneath the dress. They sit, watching as you start to heat the food. It’s magical to them. You turn around, the food nearly ready. “Please go and wash up before dinner.” 

“What? No.” Bucky growls, refusing to get up from the seat while the other men immediately stand and head out. Steve grabs hold of his best friend and drags him out, ignoring the shouts and yells. “Steve! Steve! Stop!” 

You shake your head, turning back toward the pot, stirring it before you turn off the stove and grab hold of it, bringing it to the table and setting it down. “Dinner!” You watch as the door swings open, and the men walk back in with smiles, smelling clean. “Don’t you men look dashing!” They thank you before taking a seat, watching you with wide eyes as you fill their bowls with the delicious-smelling stew. 

Clark tilts his head as you take the pot back to the sink, noticing that you didn’t make a bowl for yourself. “Are you not eating with us?” The other men stop with their spoons midair, looking between you and Clark. “Come, sit. You deserve to eat the food you cooked.” Clark pats his thigh, raising a brow when you don’t move. “I’m called Bossy for a reason. Now, sit.” You scurry over, taking a seat on his thigh, feeling a weird tingling sensation between your legs as you feel how thick his thighs are. “Good girl.” He nods to everyone, and you all begin to eat. Clark occasionally brings the spoon to your mouth, feeding the two of you. 

During the night, you get to know all of the men, laughing and listening to stories. Steve stands, clearing his throat. “I hate to interrupt this wonderful evening, but we have work tomorrow., and I think it is best if we get some rest” The others agree, and you get up to bid them goodnight, practically tucking them into their beds and placing soft kisses onto their foreheads. You are about to head back downstairs, needing to find somewhere to rest, but Steve stops you. “Y/n, here.” You spin, heading over to him with furrowed brows, wondering what he is talking about. He pulls back the blanket and pats the space next to him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude more than I have.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling like you’ve been a bother. “I can find somewhere else to sleep. I saw a blanket downstairs.” Steve gives you a look that makes you quickly crawl into the bed, and your body shivers when you realise how cold you’ve been compared to the warm man. Your body curls into his larger one, sighing as sleep takes over you before you can even register.

You wake to birds chirping and the sun shining through, your eyes flutter open, and you stretch your arms above your head. You slowly pull Steve’s arm off of you and get out of bed, making your way downstairs, and you decide to prepare breakfast for the kind men. You cook eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a fruit platter, wanting to give them a filling meal for their big day. You smile and turn as you hear the men bound down the stairs, dressed for work with hunger in their eyes. “Good morning! I thought I’d make you guys some breakfast before you go. I hope you don’t mind.” 

They smile, thanking you before sitting down. The same happens as the night before. Clark pulls you into his lap and feeds you some of his breakfast, ensuring you also get to eat. You stand once you finish, gathering the dishes and walking over to the sink, gently placing them down before walking to the door and handing the men their coats.

Clark is the first one to grab his coat, thanking you. “I hope you have a good day today.” You lean up, resting your hand on his muscular arm and kiss his cheek softly. Clark smirks, tipping his head before walking out the door.

Steve is next. Once his coat is on, he leans down for you to reach his cheek. “Thank you, Snow.” Steve turns his head and returns the favour, kissing your cheek and smiling as you become shy. 

Bucky huffs, “Can we hurry this up? We have work to do if you haven’t noticed.” But everyone ignores him, and he watches with envy as you continue to give each man a kiss.

Curtis gently takes his jacket from your tiny hands, closing his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his cheek. A smile on your face, “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Johnny walks up next, smirking at you and already leaning down. You give him a soft smile and lean forward, but he turns his head last second, and you gasp. “I–I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” You freak, staring wide-eyed at the happy man. 

“Don’t worry bout it, Baby.” Johnny winks, giving your arse a smooth pinch before strolling out. You feel your body and cheeks heat up, eyes still wide as you watch him leave.

“Well damn. He did it before me.” Dean rolls his eyes, slapping your arse after you give him a kiss as well. “Doesn’t matter. Have a good day, Sugar.”

Sam pulls you close, tapping his cheek before resting his hands on your hips. He groans as you lean up and kiss his cheek softly. His hands move down and squeeze your cheeks, pulling you even closer. “Mmm, Snow. You make a man so feral.” 

Once Sam leaves, it leaves the last man, the crankiest of the lot. Bucky grumbles, going to reach for his coat, but you pull back slightly and give him a pout. He rolls his eyes, bending slightly, and when you gently kiss his cheek, his whole face grows pink. “Whatever.” Bucky clears his throat and quickly leaves, leaving you in their cabin all by your lonesome, not prepared for what is to happen next. 

You hum to yourself, beginning to clean the place. You don’t notice the magic swirling around you, calling the forest animals to the cabin, some even helping you clean. You wash the men’s clothes, and the birds hang them along the line. You are so lost in your own world that you don’t notice an older woman watching you from the shadows, a scowl on her face, but the older woman also doesn’t notice the large black wolf watching her. 

You giggle, leaning over to pet the cute little bunny that hops in your direction before you walk inside the house. Your hands become busy as you begin to prepare another apple pie, continuing to hum to yourself. “Excuse me.” You turn, hearing a knock at the open window and someone talking. You smile softly, walking closer to the older woman. “I–I’m so sorry for bothering you. I am just a poor old woman trying her best to sell some delicious apples.” 

You lean against the counter, peeking over the window sill and looking at the basket of apples. “That is perfect! I’m baking an apple pie and in need of some apples!” You give an innocent smile to the older woman.

She reaches her hand into the basket and grabs a big red apple that sits at the top. “Take a look at this big red apple.” She holds it up to your face, watching you stare at it in wonder at how perfect it looks. Your hands slowly reach up to touch it, but the woman jerks it back. “Lovely, isn’t it? But you cannot touch without a price.” 

You gnaw on your bottom lip, looking between the woman and the apple with furrowed brows. You desperately needed more apples to make the pie. It had to be perfect. “I need that apple… But I, uh, I don’t have any money.” 

She thinks, knowing that this apple contains something horrible. The Queen realised there was no point in a price when she would finally have you dead. That was good enough. “Oh, my dear. No need to worry for a first-time customer. I will let you have this apple for free.” You look at her, shocked, cupping the apple as she hands it to you. She watches you, desperately wanting you to take a bite out of it in front of her, but she doesn’t get her hopes up.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! How can I ever repay you? You are so kind. Please let me give you something!” You go over and grab a plate of freshly baked biscuits, heading back over to her. She tries to refuse, but you persist. “Oh please, It wouldn’t feel right if I were to take this for free. Please take as many as you want.”

“Okay, thank you. That is kind of you, my dear.” The older woman takes one, bidding you goodbye before disappearing into the shadows again, wanting to watch what unfolds. Her eyes widen as she watches you begin to cut the apple, mixing it into the mixture of the pie. She thought the call of the apple would cause you not to resist a taste. “Oh, no, no, no! This won’t end well. You stupid girl, you should’ve eaten the apple yourself.” She huffs, stomping her foot. “The poison only works for those it is intended for… If she serves it to others, it can have side effects, and I do not need that in my hands.” She growls to herself, knowing that she will have to put a stop to this or kill more people than intended. 

Before the Queen can return to the cabin, she is met with the giant black wolf. Its teeth bared as it growled. She scoffs, waving it off. “Be a good puppy and leave. You can’t destroy the Queen.” Her eyes widen as your hums begin again as you place the pie in the oven, and she realises that you are the one controlling the animals, even if you don’t know you are. In the moment of shock, the wolf lunges, and your sweet melodies drown out her screams.

You are happy with how the pie has turned out, placing it on the window sill to cool down. You wait patiently for the men to return home, sitting curled up in a chair with a book between your hands. You’ve made the house more into a home, having gone out and picked some pretty flowers to put in a vase, gathering some wood for the fireplace, and keeping the food warm for when they walk through the door, their clothes all folded neatly. You stand when you hear them, their voices carrying through the air. 

Clark opens the door with a smile, “Hello, Little Snow. I notice that you’ve been busy.” He moves past you, brushing his hand across your hip as he moves to the pot, smelling the delicious scent. 

The rest of the men enter, Steve, being the second after taking his shoes off and giving you a large grin. “Snow! Did you have a good day?” You nod, giggling as he brings you into a hug. He lets go of you and walks over to the pot also, not used to coming home to dinner already prepared.

“Sugar!” Johnny enters, pulling you into him immediately by gripping your arse in his large hands, causing a squeak to fall from your lips. “You look so good. I could just eat you up.” He grumbles when Dean and Sam push him to the side. “The hell?” 

“You're hogging her,” Dean grunts, pulling you against him, and your eyes widen when you feel him grope you so freely. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re so tiny.” He blinks down at you, and you get a whiff of the alcohol already on his breath. 

Sam grows annoyed, pushes Dean out of his way and pulls you against him also. “Don’t hog Snow here. I want some too.” His large hands grip your arse, rubbing his bulge against you, groaning softly. “How you doing, baby?” 

Curtis and Bucky stand near the entrance, watching everything unfold. You smile softly at Sam as you let go, walking over to the two men and ignoring the shocked gasp they let out as you pull them into a hug, greeting them with your kindness. “Come, sit. Dinner’s ready, and I’ve made a pie for dessert!” You skip over, waiting for them all to take their seats before you grab the pot and serve the food. Dinner goes well, and it’s finally time for them to taste your sweet pie. You walk over to the pie, carefully picking it up before bringing it to the table and serving them a slice each. “I hope you guys enjoy.” 

The moment the pie hits their tongues, the magic begins to flow through everything and everyone, eyes turning a bright pink for a split second before they let out soft groans from the flavour that explodes on their tastebuds. You don’t notice anything that has happened. You are too happy to see that they enjoyed your baking. 

The atmosphere in the room has changed. Every single man in the room felt their heartbeat quicken and their breathing become heavier. Their eyes are half-lidded, and their members harden, growing rapidly in their pants. It seems their gaze is set on you, eyes darkening as they look you up and down, slowly getting out of their chairs and surrounding you. 

“That was a great pie, Little Snow,” Clark growls, getting closer. “But I want to taste something a little bit sweeter.” You squeal as Steve and Bucky hold you, ensuring you can’t move as Clark kneels, lifting your dress and letting out a thick groan when he realises you haven’t been wearing anything underneath, your folds slick with your juices. “Aren’t you a dirty little girl? Wearing nothing while staying with a bunch of men.” You moan as he surges forward, licking from your hole to your swollen button. “Fuck, she tastes so much better than that pie.” Your walls clench when Clark moves close again, gripping your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your soaking cunt, licking and sucking. 

You whine as Steve grips your chin, turning you to face him and locking his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Bucky groans. The hand that isn’t gripping you moves to your plump breasts and squeezes and fondles them. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark begins to suck on your swollen clit. You whimper into Steve’s mouth before gasping as a finger softly pokes against your entrance, breaching into it with a slow thrust. Your head falls back onto Steve and Bucky’’s shoulders, not noticing the other men rubbing their bulges through their pants, watching the scene before them with dark eyes. 

A choked whine escapes you when Clark curls his fingers while Bucky and Steve suck on your hardened nipples, swirling their tongues around. Your back arches, hands gripping their shirts as your vision becomes white and your juices flow out of your sopping cunt, covering Clark’s smirking face. “Fuck, Little Snow. You taste even more divine.” He curls his fingers in, happily watching how you twitch, your arousal still flowing out. “Men, clear the table. We are in need of a different kind of dessert.” He commands, standing to his full height and stepping aside. 

Steve and Bucky pull you toward the table, carefully setting you down and stepping back. All of the men stand and admire how beautifully blissed out you look. Johnny stumbles forward, his hardened member already hanging out of his pants, and you gasp as your gaze falls upon it. “T–that won’t fit…” You begin to shake your head as he slips between your spread legs, pulling you flush against him. 

Johnny smirks, tapping your cheek. “Dumb little sugar. I’ll make it fit. You’re so fucking wet. I’ll slide in so easily.” He reaches down and grips his throbbing base, tapping his leaking tip against your swollen clit before lining up against your entrance. Johnny groans when he pushes in, gasping at how tight you are around him. “Oh god! You feel so good, Sugar.” His hands grip your hips, slowly pulling out before thrusting into you harder. A grin forms on his face at how your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out a sob as his tip hits your sweet spot.

You are suddenly lifted, and your eyes widen when you feel something poking your already stretched hole. Your head turns slightly, and you notice Sam giving you a cheeky smile, “Don’t worry, Snow. I’m just gonna join in on the fun.” You gasp when he slowly begins to push in, stretching you even more alongside Johnny. Sam’s head falls back, and he groans, “Holy fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His grip tightens on your hips, and the thrusting begins between the two men. When one pushes in, the other pulls out, and your screams fill the cabin. Johnny pulls you into a deep kiss while Sam grips your hips and pounds hard into you. “Oh man, can you feel how tight she is?” 

Johnny nods, groaning. “Fuck yes! I don’t think I’m going to last long!” His pace picks up, slamming harder and faster into you before he buries his face into your neck as thick amounts of cum spurt out of his angry tip. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Johnny slips out of your stretched hole, sagging into a chair as Sam pulls you down, pounding into you from behind, thrusting Johnny’s cum deeper into you. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sam slams into your sweet spot, causing your walls to clench around his thick member and your juices to squirt out of you.

“Good little princess,” Sam growls into your ear, slamming his cock harder into you before burying inside of you, releasing his cum deep into you. “Fuck.” Sam moves back, the magic draining out of him, and he sags next to Johnny, their eyes fluttering closed. 

You squeal when you feel someone grabbing the back of your head before you start gagging as Curtis shoves his thick member into your mouth, thrusting in and out. “Jesus.” His head falls back, and his eyes half-lidded. “You’re mouth is so warm.” His hands hold your head, and he pulls out slowly before thrusting in again. You moan around him, swirling your tongue around his swollen tip before starting to suck, loving the salty taste that lands on your tastebuds. 

Dean smirks, gripping his throbbing member and tapping his angry tip against your used folds. He lifts your hips before sliding in, groaning at how tight you feel wrapped around him. “Damn, sweetheart. How are you still so fucking tight? You were just stretched by two cocks.” He begins to set his pace, pounding into you, pushing you to choke on Curtis’s cock. “Go on, sweetheart. Choke on his cock.” He groans, fucking into you faster. His tip repeatedly hits your sweet spot, loving how you feel as you squeeze his cock. “Shit! I’m so fucking close!” 

While Dean is busy chasing his orgasm, Curtis holds your head down and thrusts into your throat. His head rolls back as you moan around his member. “Such a sweet mouth for a sweet woman.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, gagging around him, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when Dean fills you, setting off your orgasm, causing your arousal to coat him, and the vibrations from your moans cause Curtis to groan and release deep into your mouth, gripping your chin until you swallow and show him. “Good girl.” 

You whine as both men pull out and watch through blurry eyes as they also sag into the chairs. Your head flops down onto the hardwood table, breathing heavily. “Do you think we are done with you, Doll?” Bucky steps up, a pink swirl in his eyes as he peers down at your used form. “There’s still three of us.” You gasp when he picks you up, wrapping your legs loosely around his hips while lining his tip with your entrance. Steve steps behind you, and his hand strokes his cock up and down. Your eyes roll back, and your head flops onto Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushes in. A loud whine escapes you when Steve follows suit, slipping his giant cock through your tiny hole. 

Both men begin to take turns pounding in and out of you. Clark steps forward and grips your chin, turning your head to capture your lips with his. “Who knew Snow White was secretly a whore. You like being used by seven men, honey?” You moan, nodding and clutching onto whoever you can. Clark grips your throat softly, making your dazed eyes look at him. “Of course you do. Only a little whore like you would like being used. No wonder the Queen wanted to get rid of you.” He moves closer, smirking as Steve and Bucky pick up their pace, causing your mind to go fuzzy. “She couldn’t have any competition because you’d end up stealing the attention of men away from her.” You nod along, barely hearing anything that leaves his mouth, too focused on the intense pleasure coming from between your legs. 

Steve presses forward, his hands kneading your breasts as he buries himself deeper inside you. “You feel so good, Snow.” He begins to kiss your collarbone and shoulders, groaning as you tighten around him. He picks up his pace, feeling his balls tighten and his cock twitch, a loud groan escapes him as cum spurts out of him, filling you to the brim. “Fuck…” He pulls out, sagging into a chair, his eyes falling closed. 

Bucky moves you, pushing you against a wall and pounding hard into you. “Fuck, take my fucking cock.” He grunts, bouncing you against his thrusts, filling you repeatedly. “You better take my fucking cum, slut. It’s what you are made for.” His metal hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, feeling his cock throb when your eyes widen and your walls spasm, squeezing the life out of his cock. “Oh, what a dirty little slut you are. Who would’ve known you liked being choked.” Bucky smirks before he grunts, burying himself deep inside you and releasing large amounts of cum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The moment he pulls out, his body does the same as the others, and before you can fall, Clark catches you and gives you a dark smile. 

“Oh, poor Little Snow. You should’ve chosen another cabin.” Your eyes widen when his eyes flash, and his cock fills you immediately. Even though the Queen was dead, it didn’t mean her minions died along with her. They just now had a mind of their own, a darker, more twisted mind. Your moans and screams echo outside the cabin. Clark’s member was bigger than the others, practically splitting you open. He growls, gripping your throat tightly. “You better find a way to wake the others when I’m done with you because you are ours now.” You are suddenly bent over the table, surrounded by the sleeping men, your nails dig into the wood, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as Clark slams deep into you. 

Your vision goes white as he repeatedly hits your sweet spot. Your juices squirt out and cover him and everything around. Your head hits the table as he continues before filling you with his cum, mixing with the others. You barely have time to register Clark’s body dropping as the magic leaves him. You shakingly stand, your legs wobbling, and you grip the table beneath as you look around and take in the sleeping bodies, or so you thought. You stumble over to the closet man, which happens to be Steve and feel his pulse. 

Your eyes widen, and your body drops as a wail escapes you, magic exploding from your body as you release every emotion you’ve been keeping in. Your eyes begin to close, and the last thing you hear is the men coming back to life, their hands grabbing you and bringing you upstairs. 

Come morning. You would learn never to trust strangers. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[imaginers221]

Hi! Idk if u comfy with this cherry so ignore if ur not. If you could write a scenario for Miguel where he and reader are doing anal penetration (fem reader receiving). I just don't see many anal smut fics so i thought to ask. Thank you in advance if you decide to do my request. (Also sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language) have a nice day!

18+, NSFW, Anal Penetration, Pain, Creampie

The burn is more intense than anything you’ve ever felt before.

A gasp tears from your throat, the sheets wrinkling from your white knuckled grip. You can vaguely make out the soft cooing noises Miguel murmurs to soothe you, but it gets lost in the frenzied thought that it’s just his tip. The puckered skin around your untouched hole feels like it’s seconds away from splitting apart- no amount of numbing lube able to get rid of the feeling. The hours Miguel had spent prepping you- a combination of cold metallic plugs and large, thick fingers- seem to be worthless with how unsure you are that he’ll be able to squeeze past his mushroom head. He’s simply too big.

You choke on a sob as Miguel softly massages the rounded flesh of your ass, unintentionally stretching the already thin skin around your hole. He quickly apologizes, opting to simply rest his hands on your ass in a silent show of understanding. You try to get used to the feeling, trying to focus on the warmth of his body instead of the heavy pressure penetrating you. It doesn’t work at all, not when your ass clenches involuntary in an effort to remove him from inside of you and every movement you make just pushes him in the slightest bit more.

Miguel is a saint for how patient he is, not once ushering you to take more of him and staying as still as possible. He tries to soothe you as best as he can, letting spit fall from his lips and land where your ass takes him. Grabs the bottle of lube and oh so gently massages the cold liquid over your puckered skin until he feels you relax and let out a drawn out whine.

You can still feel the stretch, but it isn’t as intense as before. You take in deep breathes, mentally preparing yourself before you gently wiggle your ass at Miguel- silent permission for him to feed more of his cock into you. He’s slow, ears perked to catch the hisses you try to hide under your breath as he feeds you the inches of him that remain. Occasionally, his tip brushes against the thin wall that separates your ass and cunt, causing you to gasp and jolt. He apologizes with slow circles to your clit, keeping you nice and placent until he bottoms out.

It pulls a long groan from him, and he’s quick to praise you for how good you are at taking him- how every inch of your body was made to be molded to the shape of his cock. He warns you before he begins to slowly pull out, a surprised whine escaping you as you feel your skin drag against his dick as he retreats, only to be pushes inwards again when he pushes inside. It leaves you dizzy and reeling, mind fogging as he builds a pace.

By the end of the night, your ass is pleasantly sore and Miguel is more than satisfied as he watches your gapping hole cry with his well-deserved seed.

[imaginers221]

Okay so.

Baby daddy!Miguel in my series is just a normal civilian, with a normal job and a normal ish family situation. No crime fighting, no fangs or red eyes or talon, none of that.

But….Imagine if he was.

It happened one day at his internship at Alchemax after his college class, and he was too afraid to tell you in fear of losing you.

And he did a really good job at hiding it, he got brown contacts and he’d make sure to not leave them around the bathroom. He’d keep his suit in the back of his truck (because he’s just starting out) even got a gym membership as a way to explain the sudden amount of muscle he gained. All was well in good.

Then he got you pregnant and you had Gabriella. And you began to notice things.

Like when she began teething but still has to be breastfed, her teeth would hurt despite not biting down due to now sharp they were. And her fingernails would grow back faster then you would think. And you would go to the doctors and they’d just wave you off because they didn’t see any problems with it.

Blah blah blah, she gets older, you and Miguel split up. Blah blah blah.

Once day, after going back to the apartment that was now voided of you and his daughter, he decides to go on a swing to clear his head. He finds a nice rooftop to ponder on when his phone rings, your name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miguel… I’m gonna sound crazy…”

His brow rose at the pure delirium in your tone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um…I-I don’t know how else to explain this… um remember when I said Gabi started crawling?”

“Yeaaah…”

“Um… she crawled onto the wall?”

Miguel’s eyes widened upon the news.

“She-she what?”

“I’m not crazy I swear!”

He left out a huff, pulling his mask back over his face as he stood up.

“I’ve got something to tell you…”

[imaginers221]

possessive *ੈ❦︎‧ Miguel O'Hara boyfriend headcanons nsfw 18+

❦︎ Miguel has Lyla track your location 24/7 (practically spying on you), giving him updates every time you move locations, making sure you’re not alone or in danger zones, and if you are, he’ll show up to scold and pick you up.

❦︎ He’ll be focused on work then suddenly demand, “Lyla, update on Y/N,” eyebrows furrowed, never breaking the concentrated look on his face, to which Lyla will pop up, giggling to herself; she’ll tell you about it later, and tease him in front of you. 

❦︎ When you’re on your phone for a while, he lingers, watching what pictures you like or who you follow, secretly judging or resisting the urge to passive-aggressively comment on someone he suspects wants you. He pretends he’s not watching you, but he’s glancing between your screen and his hologram screen. 

❦︎ He trusts you … but he does look through your phone if you leave it lying around. You’ve told him you don’t care, you have nothing to hide, but it’s in his nature. He also asks Lyla to check the recent people you’ve texted or called, which she refuses, then he overrides. 

❦︎ He hates the stares you get when outside, makes his blood boil, though most men are too intimidated to look your way once they see Miguel. However, when you're at a cash register or any situation where you might interact with a creep, he'll stand in front of you. He'd much rather deal with strangers than let you. You cling to his forearm, as he blocks you, and he'll confront or give them a hell of an attitude for looking your way.

❦︎ After you tell him about a coworker’s advances towards you at work, he’s extra needy. He follows you around the apartment more, wraps his arms around you as you cook (nothing too abnormal), and inhales your scent; he could never lose his perfect girl. You’ll reassure him, and when things heat up later that night, he’ll let you know in hungry growls, that you’re his and his only. He digs his face into your neck and whimpers your name when he finishes inside of you, claiming you as his. You can't blame him; he just wants you to be his. The hickeys spread across your body, the claw marks across your ass— he’ll always get his point across. 

[imaginers221]

I’m trying to get to sleep but now I am WIDE AWAKE WITH MIGGY IDEAS AAAAAH help 🙈 Miguel trying to sleep and his f!reader not being able to so she keeps ‘bugging’ him with little kisses or fidgeting or nuzzling her soft curves into him - things keeping him awake until he can’t take it anymore and tries to ‘expel her energy’ one way or another 👀🤔 aaaaahhhhhh my heart ❤️

kikiiiii this is so sexy!!

Pairing: miguel o’hara x curvy!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, prone bone, lazy sex, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, miguel is a little bit mean but that's just because he's sleepy

Summary: a tired, frustrated miguel gets fed up with your restlessness and fucks you to sleep

A/N: just a little blurb because the idea short-circuited my brain and I can't write properly 😭

Those wandering hands that had been twirling and tickling at the curly hairs decorating Miguel's nape are now firmly gripping the sheets as your body rocks back and forth in tandem with the squeaking mattress.

You're lying on your tummy, ass cheeks held apart by big, rough hands so that the lewd squelching of your drenched pussy can't be muffled. Miguel's hips slam into the flesh of your ass with each of his deep, pacifying strokes, giving you everything you so clearly wanted from him a few moments ago.

Miguel is a groaning, sloppy mess against your back, hunched over you lethargically as he grinds his pelvis against you, his fat tip massaging your insides, making you whine against the pillows and sink further into the mattress, your body already tired as you close your eyes and take his big cock as well as you can.

Until one of his hands leaves your ass, reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, long fingers getting tangled in the strands as he yanks your head upwards, leaning down to look at your fucked-out face, a cocky smirk gracing his own sweat-covered features.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart. If I don't get to sleep, neither do you." He grumbles, both of his hands now reaching beneath your stomach to hoist you up slightly, his dick reaching impossibly deeper, spearing into you at the perfect angle, fucking you like he wants you to lose all of your energy but not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

You may not be sleeping now, but it's obvious that you won't be able to get up for days after tonight.

this prompt is my new favourite bedtime story

[imaginers221]

Intimate ❦︎⊹₊˚ Miguel O’Hara blurb 

nsfw 18+

He's not the type to fuck you mindlessly. He sinks into you. He takes his sweet time. 

He mutters words of importance, beautiful strings of Spanish profanities, complimenting the way your velvet walls surround him. 

His body is heavy, hovering over yours, colliding into yours with every deep thrust. Soft, tan, and scarred skin glistens with sweat—too pretty not to mark up, with bruises, or scratches.

Crimson eyes stare into yours, claws rip the sheets beside you. Every kiss at your neck comes with the threat of sharp fangs, grazing sensitive skin. 

He feels so incredibly filling, his tip squeezing into the deepest corner of you, rubbing your most sensitive spot. 

He knows how to make you feel good, grinds up and into you, one hand at your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw, and the other hand with a thumb against your clit, at a slow and gentle pace. 

Your end crashes over you in waves. Miguel kisses your neck, praising you, “such a good girl,” as his hips brush against yours. His climax is quick to follows yours.

You twirl your fingers in his hair as you watch him take his turn.

You observe the way his jaw clenches, the way his fist grips the sheets, his other hand holding your face, as he kisses you repeatedly, cussing in between. He digs his face into your neck trying to control his reaction to bliss, before coming back up to finish with a lengthy passionate, messy kiss. 

[imaginers221]

Do you think that Miguel would be the type to continue the argument during sex 💀 maybe if his partner was as stubborn as he was

Can you imagine how broken their sentences would be while arguing

…

Miguel, thrusting you from behind: you…always..think…hmm..you’re right…even when…Hm…you’re not…

You, taking him, ass up and face against the pillow: I am…ah…right…this time—you’re…oh fuck��just to stubborn to admit it—

Miguel, probably trying to muffle you with the pillow: me? You’re— the one that…won’t let this go…

You, moving your head away from the pillow: because..ah—i’m…right—you just…can’t…ah— handle it!

Miguel: I’m..handling—this just…fine—

You: well…you’d…better…errr— admit…ah—I’m right…or this won’t happen—again!

Miguel: okay okay…we can…Hm argue later…let’s just…focus…hmph…on this

You: ah— fine…you’d better be ready….to admit…ah…it later

Miguel: fine fine…right now…I need you…to come for me

Pffttt

[imaginers221]

HRSHSHJMODJFJH. JASON TODD. HMPHSHS.

edit: art by the genius nick robles !! his jason is so sexy

[imaginers221]

One word. Thighs.

Credit for the art to Nick Robles

(Thank you for your service😳😫🥰)