thirstnotes

[thirstnotes]

do you realise how fucked up this group has to be when bucky barnes is the most stable out of all of them

[thirstnotes]

[thirstnotes]

@leahnicole1219

| Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Eleven - Intermission|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackCurvyReader

Warnings: abduction, Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin), mild confusion, language, minors DNI, bribery

So I'll start with a sincere apology to the darling readers who have been waiting: I'm really sorry this story screeched to a halt like that. The best way to describe it is that life's been lifein'. I've not had the will to write lately. But when I went back over the latest chapters, I hated the way it fleshed out, so I'm redoing them. You can still access the others chapters in the Deleted/Alternative Chapters section on my masterlist or in the chapter lists marked "Alternative". Thanks for hanging in there. Much love to you all.

If you don't like it, don't read it. If you read it and find you don't like it, move on.

If getting abducted and ending up in the trunk of someone’s car is one of your worse fears

Trigger Alert

Because that’s happening right now

A nasty bump roused your drowsy form again and you did your best to look around for a hole in the sack that was over your head. What the fuck was going on? Why were you here?

"Let's go for a little ride."

You'll never forget the gravelly sound of his voice. Nor the rough feeling of his gloved hands as he fought your efforts to defend yourself and eventually gained the upper hand. It was a fairly quick exchange, at least from what you remembered, ending with a blow to the head with something blunt.

That explained the headache.

But who wanted to abduct you? Sure, you were a reporter, but you didn't really do too much to stand out. Although...

Sleeping with Superman and Bruce Wayne was bound to put a target on your back, even though nobody knew who Clark was.

What was up with that, anyway?

A hairstyle and glasses? How was he fooling everyone?

Well. You didn't know either

But you had your suspicions so

A swerve caused a ton of shifting tools in the trunk to slide around. You covered your head to avoid getting another blow to your already throbbing dome.

"Easy, asshole! Cobblepot likes his apples unbruised if you know what I mean," a voice said in the front, his gravelly voice not matching the one you heard in your bedroom.

Cobblepot? As in Oswald Cobblepot? The Penguin? What did he want with you?

"I don't think he cares so long as Wayne's girl is in his grasp."

Confirmed. He thought you were with Bruce

More than that, they were talking about you like you were Bruce's property. Apparently they were planning for you to soon to be Oswald's

Or whatever the fuck he had planned

Fuck that noise

Clark's voice in your head when you were both on that walk kept echoing the same statement.

I personally feel like the further you are away from that guy, the better.

As much as you hated being wrong

You had to admit, you felt like an idiot for ignoring the very real world consequences of being in a relationship with both Bruce Wayne and Superman.

They had plenty of enemies and you didn't need it to be spelled out for you that there didn't need to be a reason for somebody to take you just to hurt them

People like these didn't give a damn about a woman being collateral damage

The car stopped and after a few beats, a heavy clunk of a car door shut before everything was still once again. The harsh light of day hit your eyes as the trunk opened and your assailants stood in view before pulling you out and forcing you down a corridor. There was music playing in different areas, coupled with laughs and screams, which made a sense of dread wash over you.

Finally, you reached a corridor that opened into a large dilapidated ballroom, where a very familiar figure stood at the center with a chair. Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin himself. Sensing where this was going, you didn't need to be forced to sit, instead using the opportunity to map out potential escape routes and weapons in the vicinity. Your restraints were cut as he spoke.

"My, I can see why Brucey choses to play with you, you're lovely," he said, thick smell of cigar hitting your nose as he came closer to study you, "I trust you had a pleasant journey."

"As pleasant as a blow to the back of the head could afford me," you saucily replied and he cut his eyes at one of the two henchmen at either side of you. The man shrank under his gaze, but he didn't budge until Cobblepot waved a hand dismissing them.

"Apologies. They play a lil' rough, but they're teddy bears really."

You might've described them as grizzlies, rather than teddies, but you digressed.

"Sure. What do you want with me?" you asked, not seeing the point of beating around the bush. He seemed to be pleased at that, tilting his head at you with a crooked smile.

"Straight to the point. I like that. Well you could say there's somethin' I need from you."

Here we go

You didn't say anything right away, and he noted that. Probably gauging your loyalty to use to his advantage. A crooked smile colored his lips.

"C'mon now, Darlin', don't be like that. There's a pretty sweet deal in it for you too."

You were moderately insulted--which was increasing all the time-- that he thought you were easily swayed by the thought of money and power. Though, his misstep had it's advantages in that moment and you were all too ready to utilize them. You face hadn't faltered when you gave him a onceover to give him the impression of uncertainty.

"...I'm listening."

His smile grew a bit. "I love it when I'm right. Brucey sure knows how to pick 'em."

He was really staring to irk you, but you let it slide

"If you thought you were right, you wouldn't have sent your goons to rough me up. Why the caveman method?" you asked, folding your arms and crossing your legs.

"A formality, you understand. I couldn't tell what kind of a woman Brucey's been entertaining lately. The fact that you're a journalist was already rubbing me the wrong way, but I figured with your salary, you might be open to negotiations."

The dig at the Daily Planet's pay rate made a smirk tickle your lips, but you tamped your amusement down. "Depends. How much we talking?"

The fact that you sounded like you had an option to say "no" seemed to amuse him, as evident in his lazy smile while he paced.

"Enough for you to never have to work at that gossip rag again. Enough for you to move wherever you wanted and still have enough to live a cushy life for the rest of your days."

You paused again, reading his reaction to your body language as you pretended to be considering his offer. Your eyes flickered to his cane, which was fidgeting from one finger to the next, certain that your answer might evoke a response involving it.

For good measure, your eyes floated to the floor, the back up to him. Guilt. "What do I have to do?"

He thought for certain he had you. His grin tightened so much he nearly severed his cigar. "Good girl. Positively ruthless, I like that."

You were beyond done with this clown, but you listened intently after he took a long drag.

"It's easy, really. Ol' Brucey has been doin' a little diggin' around in mines lately and he's been a little hush hush about his find. Security's ramped up, top secret shippin'. The works. I can't seem to get anywhere near that cargo, so I figure-"

"Why not make it an inside job," you finished, your eyes rolling to your nails.

"Exactly. Care to do a lil work for me, dollface?"

You looked around the room, as if mulling over the proposition. "I'm gonna assume I don't really have the option to say no, but if you're gonna make it worth my while and I don't have to worry about the fallout, why not? It's not like Bruce is gonna be loose with his cash."

He let out a horrible, sharp laugh at that. "My dear, you're almost as bad as the Cat."

"When you're a woman in this world, you do what you have to do to get ahead," you say, rolling your eyes, "So long as you keep your end of the bargain. I don't need Wayne coming after me for this."

"Oh darlin', I'm in the business of protection..." he purred, his eyes slithering over your form again, "...so long as you don't cross me."

You hated this dude

But you did your best not to let it show

"Then we have a deal," you said with a growing smirk, your head throbbing in the worst way now as you went to stand. A hand on your shoulder stopped you and you sat back down with a firm plop. Now what? "The boys'll give you a ride back to your apartment. Gently this time. Can go 'round bruisin' business partners, can we boys?" he sneered, his crooked smile the last thing you saw before a sack was shoved over your head. You felt yourself being led--to Oswald's credit, much more gently--through the corridor and back outside to the car. Of course he had to maintain his location secrecy from a reporter like you. You had to give him a bit more credit for clocking that. But the idea that you were ruthless and selfish enough to sell out a man you'd allegedly been seeing for a few measly dollars and the "promise" of protection by him and his raggedy ass goons was outright insulting.

You were dropped off a ways from your home, at the local donut shop. Relief washed over you, the rest of your adrenaline getting you home in one piece. You couldn't shake the eerie feeling of being watched, knowing Cobblepot was probably having you monitored to make sure you upheld you end of the bargain.

As you approached your apartment, your eyes met with a familiar pair of blue ones, looking at you with curious concern. You kept it casual, your eyes flickering to the flowers in his hands and you smiled. "Those for me?"

(Part 10)

(Part 11 (Alternative))

(Part 12 (Alternative))

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Eleven - Intermission|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackCurvyReader

Warnings: abduction, Oswald Cobblepot (Penguin), mild confusion, language, minors DNI, bribery

So I'll start with a sincere apology to the darling readers who have been waiting: I'm really sorry this story screeched to a halt like that. The best way to describe it is that life's been lifein'. I've not had the will to write lately. But when I went back over the latest chapters, I hated the way it fleshed out, so I'm redoing them. You can still access the others chapters in the Deleted/Alternative Chapters section on my masterlist or in the chapter lists marked "Alternative". Thanks for hanging in there. Much love to you all.

If you don't like it, don't read it. If you read it and find you don't like it, move on.

If getting abducted and ending up in the trunk of someone’s car is one of your worse fears

Trigger Alert

Because that’s happening right now

A nasty bump roused your drowsy form again and you did your best to look around for a hole in the sack that was over your head. What the fuck was going on? Why were you here?

"Let's go for a little ride."

You'll never forget the gravelly sound of his voice. Nor the rough feeling of his gloved hands as he fought your efforts to defend yourself and eventually gained the upper hand. It was a fairly quick exchange, at least from what you remembered, ending with a blow to the head with something blunt.

That explained the headache.

But who wanted to abduct you? Sure, you were a reporter, but you didn't really do too much to stand out. Although...

Sleeping with Superman and Bruce Wayne was bound to put a target on your back, even though nobody knew who Clark was.

What was up with that, anyway?

A hairstyle and glasses? How was he fooling everyone?

Well. You didn't know either

But you had your suspicions so

A swerve caused a ton of shifting tools in the trunk to slide around. You covered your head to avoid getting another blow to your already throbbing dome.

"Easy, asshole! Cobblepot likes his apples unbruised if you know what I mean," a voice said in the front, his gravelly voice not matching the one you heard in your bedroom.

Cobblepot? As in Oswald Cobblepot? The Penguin? What did he want with you?

"I don't think he cares so long as Wayne's girl is in his grasp."

Confirmed. He thought you were with Bruce

More than that, they were talking about you like you were Bruce's property. Apparently they were planning for you to soon to be Oswald's

Or whatever the fuck he had planned

Fuck that noise

Clark's voice in your head when you were both on that walk kept echoing the same statement.

I personally feel like the further you are away from that guy, the better.

As much as you hated being wrong

You had to admit, you felt like an idiot for ignoring the very real world consequences of being in a relationship with both Bruce Wayne and Superman.

They had plenty of enemies and you didn't need it to be spelled out for you that there didn't need to be a reason for somebody to take you just to hurt them

People like these didn't give a damn about a woman being collateral damage

The car stopped and after a few beats, a heavy clunk of a car door shut before everything was still once again. The harsh light of day hit your eyes as the trunk opened and your assailants stood in view before pulling you out and forcing you down a corridor. There was music playing in different areas, coupled with laughs and screams, which made a sense of dread wash over you.

Finally, you reached a corridor that opened into a large dilapidated ballroom, where a very familiar figure stood at the center with a chair. Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin himself. Sensing where this was going, you didn't need to be forced to sit, instead using the opportunity to map out potential escape routes and weapons in the vicinity. Your restraints were cut as he spoke.

"My, I can see why Brucey choses to play with you, you're lovely," he said, thick smell of cigar hitting your nose as he came closer to study you, "I trust you had a pleasant journey."

"As pleasant as a blow to the back of the head could afford me," you saucily replied and he cut his eyes at one of the two henchmen at either side of you. The man shrank under his gaze, but he didn't budge until Cobblepot waved a hand dismissing them.

"Apologies. They play a lil' rough, but they're teddy bears really."

You might've described them as grizzlies, rather than teddies, but you digressed.

"Sure. What do you want with me?" you asked, not seeing the point of beating around the bush. He seemed to be pleased at that, tilting his head at you with a crooked smile.

"Straight to the point. I like that. Well you could say there's somethin' I need from you."

Here we go

You didn't say anything right away, and he noted that. Probably gauging your loyalty to use to his advantage. A crooked smile colored his lips.

"C'mon now, Darlin', don't be like that. There's a pretty sweet deal in it for you too."

You were moderately insulted--which was increasing all the time-- that he thought you were easily swayed by the thought of money and power. Though, his misstep had it's advantages in that moment and you were all too ready to utilize them. You face hadn't faltered when you gave him a onceover to give him the impression of uncertainty.

"...I'm listening."

His smile grew a bit. "I love it when I'm right. Brucey sure knows how to pick 'em."

He was really staring to irk you, but you let it slide

"If you thought you were right, you wouldn't have sent your goons to rough me up. Why the caveman method?" you asked, folding your arms and crossing your legs.

"A formality, you understand. I couldn't tell what kind of a woman Brucey's been entertaining lately. The fact that you're a journalist was already rubbing me the wrong way, but I figured with your salary, you might be open to negotiations."

The dig at the Daily Planet's pay rate made a smirk tickle your lips, but you tamped your amusement down. "Depends. How much we talking?"

The fact that you sounded like you had an option to say "no" seemed to amuse him, as evident in his lazy smile while he paced.

"Enough for you to never have to work at that gossip rag again. Enough for you to move wherever you wanted and still have enough to live a cushy life for the rest of your days."

You paused again, reading his reaction to your body language as you pretended to be considering his offer. Your eyes flickered to his cane, which was fidgeting from one finger to the next, certain that your answer might evoke a response involving it.

For good measure, your eyes floated to the floor, the back up to him. Guilt. "What do I have to do?"

He thought for certain he had you. His grin tightened so much he nearly severed his cigar. "Good girl. Positively ruthless, I like that."

You were beyond done with this clown, but you listened intently after he took a long drag.

"It's easy, really. Ol' Brucey has been doin' a little diggin' around in mines lately and he's been a little hush hush about his find. Security's ramped up, top secret shippin'. The works. I can't seem to get anywhere near that cargo, so I figure-"

"Why not make it an inside job," you finished, your eyes rolling to your nails.

"Exactly. Care to do a lil work for me, dollface?"

You looked around the room, as if mulling over the proposition. "I'm gonna assume I don't really have the option to say no, but if you're gonna make it worth my while and I don't have to worry about the fallout, why not? It's not like Bruce is gonna be loose with his cash."

He let out a horrible, sharp laugh at that. "My dear, you're almost as bad as the Cat."

"When you're a woman in this world, you do what you have to do to get ahead," you say, rolling your eyes, "So long as you keep your end of the bargain. I don't need Wayne coming after me for this."

"Oh darlin', I'm in the business of protection..." he purred, his eyes slithering over your form again, "...so long as you don't cross me."

You hated this dude

But you did your best not to let it show

"Then we have a deal," you said with a growing smirk, your head throbbing in the worst way now as you went to stand. A hand on your shoulder stopped you and you sat back down with a firm plop. Now what? "The boys'll give you a ride back to your apartment. Gently this time. Can go 'round bruisin' business partners, can we boys?" he sneered, his crooked smile the last thing you saw before a sack was shoved over your head. You felt yourself being led--to Oswald's credit, much more gently--through the corridor and back outside to the car. Of course he had to maintain his location secrecy from a reporter like you. You had to give him a bit more credit for clocking that. But the idea that you were ruthless and selfish enough to sell out a man you'd allegedly been seeing for a few measly dollars and the "promise" of protection by him and his raggedy ass goons was outright insulting.

You were dropped off a ways from your home, at the local donut shop. Relief washed over you, the rest of your adrenaline getting you home in one piece. You couldn't shake the eerie feeling of being watched, knowing Cobblepot was probably having you monitored to make sure you upheld you end of the bargain.

As you approached your apartment, your eyes met with a familiar pair of blue ones, looking at you with curious concern. You kept it casual, your eyes flickering to the flowers in his hands and you smiled. "Those for me?"

(Part 10)

(Part 11 (Alternative))

(Part 12 (Alternative))

[thirstnotes]

Mission: to see these shots and not fall in love with Hunter.

The mission failed 💔

[thirstnotes]

Hooo mercy🥵🥵🥵 Just when I can't go on, this gave me LIFE. Positive affirmations and Henry jealousy? yes please

Boss

Next part: Bossed

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You never meant for this to happen.

You were just practicing self care in the season of love. 

The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that. 

You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.

You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night. 

So you sent flowers to yourself. 

They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.

But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way. 

—--

You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world. 

Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired. 

What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary. 

You were right-hand to changing the world.

Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.

Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.

You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was. 

And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand. 

You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you. 

Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview. 

You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.

You were a sad case.

Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long. 

But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically. 

You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.

—---

Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.

But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.

He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material. 

Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks: 

The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away. 

The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.

Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.

You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.

But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.

—---

This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.

Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs. 

It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him. 

Then he looked at you.

There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed. 

"Who sent them?"

His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.

You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.

Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.

Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.

"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. 

You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers. 

You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers. 

You knew exactly what it said.

You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.

A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.

But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.

"So who is he?"

His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.

"What?"

Henry’s fists clenched at his sides. 

"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that." 

His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something. 

"Who. Is. He?"

You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…

No. It was impossible. 

Your pulse became erratic with the thought

Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.

You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.

This was a development.

Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb. 

"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.

"Why do you care?"

You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response. 

Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.

“Careful, Little One.”

He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them. 

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.

Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction. 

You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips. 

Or maybe you were the one imagining.

“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly. 

He gazed at you, eyes blazing. 

"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"

Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.

Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did. 

You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.

"And what if he can?"

Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his. 

That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.

The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body. 

And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.

You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you. 

Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile. 

Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.

Who would have thunk?

Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.

"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.

You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him. 

But you were about to find out.

——-

Next part: Bossed

[thirstnotes]

May 31 2016 - Collin Kennedy, who is a cancer patient, used expanding spray foam to disable a parking meter at the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg where he gets his treatment. He says the fees are a tax on the sick. [video]

[thirstnotes]

Late nights on the Marauder lead to dangerous, experimental upgrades to weapons…

[thirstnotes]

[thirstnotes]

[thirstnotes]

this is the vibe he gives

[thirstnotes]

Well now...

... that training session got a little...

... heated.

Blatant rip-off of Freya Marske's Sword Crossed, cover art by Cynthia Sheppard.

But c'mon, you can't tell me this isn't hardcore CodyWan coded. (But like also, please go read Sword Crossed. It's super fun and cute and a good read, and the CodyWan vibes extend beyond the cover art, seriously just read the summary.)

[thirstnotes]

Damn Good Drinks

summary: An unfortunate mistake rewards you with a fortunate encounter, and this undercover soldier is nothing like you could have expected.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: meet-cute, alcohol mentions/consumption, mentions of harassment, flirting, suggestiveness, protective hunter, one (1) gratuitous steamy kiss, tech is always at the scene of the crime, pre-tcw s7

rating: T

word count: 3.556k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

It was another rowdy crowd tonight. You really should’ve known, considering the fact that the tourist season was nearly upon your town already. With the war still raging on in the galaxy, people were flocking here by the hundreds, eager to get away from the conflict on their own homeworlds.

You heaved a sigh as you carefully balanced the tray of drinks you’d just collected from the bar. Wrestling your way through these crowds was far from your favorite thing to do, but it was better than being stuck behind the bar itself for countless hours. It was, ironically, safer this way, too. Not that you could ever fully escape the wandering eyes, comments, and even the touches, but the freedom to run or fight if necessary was a comfort nonetheless.

Pitiful little excuse mes wouldn’t do you any good out here, so you simply announced your presence by jutting your elbows and shoulders into the people you were trying to pass. You could at least finally see the table you were heading for, which was a gift in a crowd this thick, especially at such a late hour.

You were just thinking about how excited you were to finally go home for the night when you suddenly heard a commotion beside you.

“Hey, watch where’ur goin’!”

“No, you watch it!”

You rolled your eyes. There was nothing quite like a classic ego-off. Hopefully, they both lost—and hopefully, they kept you out of it.

But you should’ve known better than to think you’d actually have good luck with that.

The guy closest to you got shoved by the other, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. Caught in the crossfire, you were also shoved right into something solid, hard enough to make every drink on your tray splatter on you and whatever, or whoever, you’d run into.

Unfortunately, you were in the center of the cantina, so it couldn’t have been a wall. It had to have been a person, a patron who was most likely going to want to fight you, now.

You were about to curse the pair of egotistical maniacs out when you suddenly realized the person you’d run into was steadying you with a hand on your elbow and another on your opposite arm.

“You alright?”

You spun around to face them, but you were too distracted by the fact that nearly the entire front of their white shirt was now stained in the purple hue of one of the drinks you’d been carrying. 

You let out a worried gasp and reached from the rag you kept tucked into your pocket. “I’m so sorry, sir! Let me get that for you.” As you tried your best to dry and blot out the stain in the patron’s shirt, you couldn’t help muttering in contempt. “Kriffing boys spilling some damn good drinks over a pointless ego battle…”

You only stopped when you realized that your efforts were to no avail; this poor person’s shirt was stained for good. You let out a sigh, but the breath got caught in your throat when you blinked a few times and realized exactly what, or who, you were looking at.

You weren’t trying to ogle this man, you really weren’t, but it was hard when the first thing your eyes were stuck to was the sight of the now-transparent fabric of his sleeveless tunic clinging to perhaps the most toned set of muscles you had ever seen before in your life.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the more you observed, the more you were convinced that you weren’t actually being hyperbolic.

The man’s face was just as sculpted as the rest of him, though half his face was cast in the dark shadow of what looked like a giant skull tattoo, matching the one that was printed on his red bandana. That matched the scarf hung around his neck, fabric that his dark, shoulder-length hair was brushing against. He still had his hands on you, which were wrapped up to his elbows in a light-colored fabric, but the touch was soft enough to indicate that he meant no harm.

Thank the Force that the last thing you caught were his eyes, because you wouldn’t have been able to look away if you’d done that first.

“‘Damn good drinks,’ huh?” The corners of the man’s mouth started to rise as his brown gaze flickered over you. “Do they taste as good as they look on you?”

Your brow shot up at that. Maybe it was the mere fact you were attracted to him, or that you couldn’t sense any ill intent like you could with the others, but you weren’t disgusted by his advances.

No, they made the temperature in the room rise to a really dangerous height.

You returned the once-over and offered a thoughtful hum. “Maybe, but they definitely don’t taste as good as they look on you, so don’t be too disappointed.” You huffed and focused on righting the capsized cups on your tray. “Can I get you one as a token of apology?”

The man shifted slightly in front of you, and with a quick glance, you realized he was blocking you from getting hit by another shove that came from a new direction. He absorbed the movement as if it were nothing. You furrowed your brow, watching as his arms and shoulders barely flexed at the motion.

Suddenly, you were realizing that this had to be the body of a soldier. But he obviously wasn’t a droid, and he certainly didn’t look like a clone…

“You don’t owe me an apology.” He nodded, making the stray hairs that stuck out of his bandana bounce against his forehead. “Wasn’t really my brightest idea to wear a white shirt to a place like this, anyway.”

You chuckled and shrugged. “Well, thank the Force you did.” You winked and gestured with your head towards the bar. “Can I still get you that drink, anyway?”

He smiled. “Sure. I’ve got some time to kill.”

You looked down when warmth started to rush into the tips of your ears. That downward glance could only last a moment, because soon, you had to shove your way through the rowdy crowd. Amazingly, though, they started to part much more easily for you, and it only took a quick look behind you to realize why.

This man was just about shoving everyone aside and casting warning glances to anyone who dared to react to it. Even just the way he was walking screamed danger to a potential opponent.

He was definitely a soldier, but for who or what, you weren’t sure. At this point, you really didn’t care, because your heart was speaking a lot louder than your brain when it came to him.

You brought him to the furthest edge of the bar, a private enough corner where you could get behind it and make him a drink yourself. You’d still have to remake the ones you spilled, but if you were being honest, that wasn’t really your biggest priority right now. They could wait a few extra minutes.

“So…” you stole a glance up at him, “you got a name?”

He huffed and rested his wrapped forearms upon the bartop, leaning forward enough for you to hear him over the din of the rowdy patrons. “You can just call me Hunter.”

You hummed and stared more than you really had to at the cups you tossed between your hands. “Is that what you are?”

“A bounty hunter?” He scoffed. “Have I made that bad of an impression on you already?”

You laughed at that. Only someone operating under some kind of honor code would have such a strong distaste for bounty hunters. You had no doubt now that you knew what he was.

“Then what’s a soldier like you doing out here, so far away from the front lines?”

“Who says I’m a soldier?”

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t know, Hunter. Maybe it’s the giant tactical pack you’ve got slung on your back, or those heavily-trained arms you’ve clearly put on display.”

A light sparkled in Hunter’s eyes as the corners of his lips rose in a subtle smirk. “You seem to know a lot about arms.”

You returned his mischievous smile. “Only because I like staring at yours.” You nodded towards his stained shirt. “You want the drink that was spilled on you, or the one that got on me?”

Hunter looked down at himself and circled his jaw. He shrugged before he lifted his head and met your gaze again. “You choose.”

You considered his words for a moment as you searched his eyes. In the lighting of the bar, they glowed more amber, which only made them even more captivating. You fought not to lose yourself within them as you ultimately nodded. “Alright.”

You focused on getting all the right ingredients together, all the while sensing the heat of his gaze on you. Fighting back another smile, you decided to question him further.

“Care to explain why you don’t look like a clone when you clearly are one?”

“So long as you tell me why your heart’s beating so fast.”

That gave you pause. He was right—your heart hadn’t stopped hammering against your chest ever since you got your first good look at him—but there was no way he would know that without feeling your pulse himself, or at least taking a strangely accurate guess.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you gripped the glass and shaker tighter in your hands. “How would you even know that?”

Hunter’s brow lifted. “Would you call me crazy if I told you that it actually answers your first question?”

You relaxed again and gave him a nod. “Fine, you’ve got my interest.” You tried to calm your racing heart, if only out of spite.

“I’m an enhanced clone. My squad and I were each given different traits that are ‘desirable’ in soldiers.”

You spared him a single glance. Thankfully, he didn’t look uncomfortable discussing this. That wasn’t your end goal, even if you did at least want to know what you were getting yourself into. “And what does that have to do with my heartbeat?”

Hunter chuckled. “Well, I’m named after my enhancement.”

As you shook the concoction inside the mixer, you pondered his words. A hunter, and a heartbeat…  and shoving people aside before they’d even come close to you…

“You’re telling me you can… hear my heartbeat?”

Hunter’s head bobbed. “In a way.” He tapped his fingers along the bartop. “Enhanced senses. My strong suit is electromagnetic frequencies, but I can pick up on some organic things, too.” He nodded at you. “The louder a heartbeat, the easier it is for me to hear it.”

You pretended to scowl for the sake of your dignity as you strained the drink into his glass. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to have a racing heart in a place like this.”

Hunter hummed. “That’s fair.” He gestured with a thumb to the crowds behind him. “Is it always like this?”

You exhaled heavily and shook your head. “It wasn’t before, but the longer the war goes on, the worse it gets. We’re an escape for a lot of people, it seems.”

You picked up the glass and slid it over to him.

“Here. Let me know what you think.”

Before you could pull your hand off the glass, Hunter placed his there, his fingers brushing yours as they drifted by one another. You caught his stare, and you could’ve sworn he sent you the quickest wink you’d ever seen before he drew his first sip.

And there went all chances of slowing down your racing heart. He was certainly gonna notice that with his apparent enhanced senses. Damn it.

You tasked yourself with remaking the other patrons’ drinks while Hunter offered his review. “It is damn good.” He shrugged in your periphery. “But still not as good as it looks on you.”

You laughed. “Well, that’s because it’s the one I spilled on you.” You spared him a quick glance of approval. “So something must be wrong with your ‘enhanced’ taste buds.”

You enjoyed watching him hide his new flush by taking another sip of the drink, but the weight of his identity was beginning to settle in. A clone soldier, an enhanced one, was here. That had to mean the war wouldn’t be far behind.

“Since you’re here,” you paused for a second as you shook another drink, “does that mean I should be getting ready for the war to come to my doorstep?”

Hunter grew more serious as he shook his head. “No. You’re safe here.” He gestured towards the cantina’s only entrance. “We’re just gathering some intel.”

“‘We’?” You smiled down at the drinks. “So, that squad of yours is around here, too?”

“Not here, but yeah, they’re on-world.”

With the drinks now finished, you set them on the tray and took a second to look Hunter in the eye. There was something here, and there was a lot he was giving you—and you needed to know what the real reasoning was behind it.

“Why are you telling me all this, Hunter?” You tilted your head at him. “Seems like pretty confidential information for a random civilian like me to know.”

Hunter held your stare even as he tipped his head back to empty out the rest of his glass. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m a good judge of character.”

You blinked at him a few times before smiling. What a simple yet profound way of establishing trust.

Thankfully for him, he was right, and any of his secrets would die with you.

“Well, I’ve got to get these back over there, so…” You lifted the tray and glanced at the table at the far end of the cantina.

Hunter nodded and pushed himself off the bartop. You prepared to bid him farewell, but instead, he lingered. “I’ll clear a path for you this time.”

All you could muster was an appreciative glance before Hunter stepped forward and essentially pushed your way through the crowd. No one even got near you this time, certainly not close enough to make the drinks topple over. Hunter hung back once you eventually reached the table, and you quietly thanked him as you passed him.

“Here you are.” You kept your customer service voice engaged as you dealt out the drinks and smiled. “Sorry about the wait. It’s a bit crazy here tonight.”

The patrons just shrugged, clearly unaware of the extra few minutes you spent flirting with the enhanced clone trooper rather than making their drinks. You tucked the tray under your arm and turned around, surprised to see that Hunter was still there waiting for you.

You gave him another once-over. That drink stain on his shirt really stuck out like a bantha in a porg nest, if it was even possible for anyone’s eyes to get past his eyes, face, and arms.

The look he was giving you in return was either saying the same thing about your clothes or something very different, a little more similar to what you wanted him to be thinking.

“You know,” you took a step closer to him, “we should have some extra tunics from our uniforms in the back if you want one to cover…” you gazed down at his stain, “that.”

Hunter’s gaze glowed dangerously. “Oh, yeah?”

You nodded slowly. “I mean, we could at least check.”

Hunter smirked as he echoed your question from earlier. “We’?”

You waved him off. “It’s too crazy here tonight for anyone to care that you’re back there.”

Hunter shrugged. Apparently, he was easily convinced. “Alright. Where’re we headed?”

You pointed at a door on the back wall, and Hunter nodded before he pushed through the crowd once again. At this point, it was hard to imagine that he wasn’t listening to your heart practically flying through your chest. You didn’t even know why this was happening, especially so fast, but you had to echo Hunter’s earlier sentiment: you were a good judge of character.

What was one stolen moment with an enhanced clone trooper?

Hunter stepped aside to let you key in the passcode on the doorway of the storage room, and once it slid open, you led the way inside. After verifying that you were alone, you waved Hunter in. The door closed behind him, and after securing it, you turned to him.

It would’ve been impossible to get a good look at him in the dimness of the space, anyway, but you were both gravitating to each other before any looks could be given. You cupped his chiseled jaw at the exact moment he held your waist, closing the gap between the two of you and giving into the magnetic pull that had first forced you two together in the night’s rowdy crowds.

And you had never been more grateful for two egotistical maniacs’ stupid quarrel before.

Hunter kissed you like he’d known you for ages, exuding a breathless amount of passion that should’ve been impossible for a soldier as seasoned as himself. All you could do was try to match that energy, parting your lips and surely making a mess of the hair he clearly wanted to grow beyond what you assumed was regulation. You let one hand stay there, but the other was too curious, tracing the same lines of muscle your eyes had been beholden to ever since you first saw him.

During a quick break for air, you pulled back until you hit the wall behind you, this time urging him even closer than before. The second his mouth was on yours, you lost all sense of anything else, only able to think about the warmth you found there—and the feeling of his hips caressing yours in the very same rhythm.

You weren’t sure exactly how those senses of his worked, but somehow, he was igniting every single one of yours in a way you’d never experienced before.

You were in the middle of lowering your hands from his neck to seek a more fervent exploration when he caught both your wrists, holding them in an achingly gentle yet firm grasp as he lifted them over your own head. When he pushed himself into you even more intensely, his tongue in your mouth and his hips on yours, you could feel it so much more without being distracted by touching the rest of him.

Yeah, this was definitely a man who understood senses.

You were stuck between proposing and offering him all your possessions when the sudden chiming of a comlink sounded from Hunter’s belt. The two of you broke apart with heavy breaths, his forehead still close enough to yours for you to feel the wisps of his hair brushing against your skin as he clearly fought the urge to sigh.

“Sorry. Give me just a second.”

Hunter’s voice, which was already fairly rough as it was, was even rougher from your passionate moment as he released your wrists and stepped away. You couldn’t have stopped watching him even if you wanted to as he unclipped the comlink and activated it.

“Tech, report.”

“I have acquired the necessary data.” You raised your brow at the voice that spoke on the other end of Hunter’s comm. They sounded even less like a clone than Hunter himself did. “We may make our egress, unless there is any additional research you wish to pursue.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a loose end I want to tie up.” You scoffed at that. Loose end? “We'll meet back at the Marauder.”

“Affirmative.”

Hunter sighed as he set the comlink back on his belt. “Sorry about that.” He ran a hand over his head. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Gotta’ tie up your loose end, now.”

Hunter froze before he let out a heavy exhale. “Kriff, that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t help laughing. “Hey, you’ve done better than most by catching it so fast.”

Hunter chuckled and stepped back over to you. “Here.”

He took something from his belt and reached for your hand, setting it inside your palm and closing your fist around it. It was something circular and metallic, judging by how cool it was against your skin.

“To keep in touch.” Hunter nodded at you. “Next time, the drink’s on me.”

“It was technically already on you this time.” You gestured with your eyes to his stained shirt.

Hunter huffed with amusement. “You know what I mean.”

You smiled at him. “Sure.”

You opened the door for him, and he stopped to give you a wink you wouldn’t miss this time before he disappeared into the thick of the crowd. You leaned your shoulder against the threshold, staring down at the communicator in your grasp. Biting back a smile, you slipped it inside your pocket.

Maybe there was an advantage to the war getting a little closer, after all.

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020 @singularattitudeofasafetypin

[thirstnotes]

[thirstnotes]

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲

Trucker!Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: 18+, daddy kink, pet names, breeding, unprotected sex, blowjobs, public sex, fucking while driving?? Little bit of fluff at the end xoxo

A very fun roadtrip with Joel

w/c: 3.3k

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*

"What did I tell you about sticking those legs up on my damn dash," Joel mumbles.

You shoot him a playful scowl, wiggling your feet tauntingly. His eyebrows furrow in irritation, his eyes stealing annoyed glances as you disobeyed his orders. "I'm serious bug, it's not safe."

You pout, slinking your legs back down to the ground of his semi-truck. "M'sorry," you whisper.

A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips as the summer breeze makes its way inside. You hated the scent of those lousy sticks but he always made sure to let the fresh air in just for you.

You smile lazily as he switches gears, a soft grunt escaping his lips. He mumbles something under his breath, cursing at the Audi who attempted to cut him off.

But you hardly register the situation, eyes glued on the way his tank top hangs low revealing black ink tattoos and a tuft of chest hair. His arms were bursting from the sleeves of his flannel, every muscle dripping with definition.

Joel smirks to himself, rubbing his unruly beard as he glances at your distant expression. He knows exactly what you're doing. That glossy look in your eyes, the way your hands are wedged between your thighs. He knows precisely when his girl needs him, and right now you're practically pleading. He could see your brain churning, undoubtedly thinking of him.

"Wettin' my beard so pretty, baby. You see that? See what you've done to me?"  He pulled back from your thighs, his beard stained and wet. You moaned his name, thrashing against his grip as he gazed pridefully at your soaking cunt. "C'mon, pretty baby. Let go for me, squirt all over daddy's face. He suckled your clit, balls heavy and thighs grinding against the sheets as he fought back the urge to cum. "Taste so pretty, baby. Fuck, gettin' me all messy. See how much I'm leaking? That's it, open those pretty eyes and look at what you’ve done."

"Been staring at me awfully long, ain't ya?" Joel grins.

You suck in a breath, quickly turning and facing the window. "M'not," you mutter.

"Ah ah, don't get all shy." He puts out his cigarette and you can hear the amusement in his tone as he reaches for your hand, breaking it from its position between your thighs.

You're too embarrassed to speak, afraid he'd tease you for getting turned on by something as mundane as watching him drive. Quickly, you cross your legs, "It's nothin'" you murmur.

"Nothin'?" He questions.

Joel raises an eyebrow, his right hand sinking towards the waistline of your denim shorts. They hugged your hips perfectly, a soft blue hue that left your asscheeks hanging free. He loved when you sat perched on his lap with them on, nuzzling into his neck as he palmed your ass.

You don't object as he leisurely pulls down your zipper, his hand sneaking down your groin. Instinctively you wrap your arms around his, grinding into his palm slowly. "Joel...you're driving."

He traces his thumb across your slit, groaning softly when he feels your wetness against your thighs. His eyes face the road, your sweet sounds are the only indication he has of what's going on beside him.

Your eyes flutter closed as he slips a finger inside of you, rubbing against your folds until you shiver. "You feeling needy, baby?" He coos. "Want my fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt? Cmon, baby, it's alright. You don't think I know how badly you wanna get fucked sitting all cute in that passenger seat? Always begging me to tag along just to sit there and hold your legs all tight together. Gawking at me and looking away as if I can't tell how desperate you are."

"P- pull over, Joel," you whine.

He scoffs before pressing hard against your clit. You shout, nails digging into his skin.

He remains stoic, a sick grin on his face as you refuse to let go of his arm. "Did I hurt you? Is your button all swollen and hard now? Daddy’ll  kiss it better for you, pretty baby."

You nod against his arm, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Hurts, daddy."

He doesn't want to let up. You look so pretty grinding against his hand, your nipples hard against the Shania Twain shirt you cut up and hemmed. Your soft moans turn into full-out pleads as he strokes your clit. Coddling her until your eyes meet the back of your head. 

You can hardly sit still, selfishly needing him to pull off the road so you can have him entirely. "P-pullover Joel. Please."

He knows neither of you will be satisfied until he's balls deep inside of you, so he does what he has to.

"Shh, I know, baby. But I've gotta work." Tears nearly fall down your cheeks as he takes his hand back. You pulsate against nothing, whining from the loss of his touch.

"That's not fair!" You shout.

He replies calmly. "Yea? You know what's not fair, Princess? Gettin’ me all worked up when I'm supposed to be focused on crossing state lines. Now sit back until we reach Tennessee."

Your jaw drops at his words, taking it personally. "Fine," you huff.

•••

One hour. It had been one hour of complete silence and you were going insane. Joel had lit another cigarette, the smoke dancing its way out the cracked window.

You were sulking. Angry that he had teased you and left you high and frustrated. A word hasn't escaped your lips in miles and while Joel still stole glances your way, your eyes were glued to the window.

"White..." you mumbled, counting the 25th milky white cow you saw grazing the fields. It was the quickest way to pass time since being entertained by Joel was clearly off the table.

He perks up upon hearing your voice, wishfully thinking your grudge was finally over. He hadn't intended on leaving you hanging, but the moment he felt your walls clench around his fingers he knew he had to stop. If it was up to him, he would've pulled off on the side of the highway and pulled you right onto his lap. Slide down those useless shorts and sit your pretty self on his cock. He could spend hours watching you drip down his length, your teeth sinking into his shoulder as he thrusts into you…

But he has a deadline. A small window of time to get this cargo to its destination.

You stare at the next set of cows, adding up to 28 white ones, and...shit. "A brown cow!" You squeal. "And it's fluffy! Joel, look at that. I've never seen a–"

You're cut off by the sound of heavy laughter. There's a lopsided grin on his face as he listens to your excited tone. He smirks, "It's very cute, bug."

"That was an accident," you grumble. "M'still not speaking to you."

"Yea? And how's that workin' out for ya?"

"I just thought the cow was cute goddamnit, Miller." You sink into the seat, staring daggers into the side of his head. "You're so annoying," you mumble.

"Speak up, baby. Couldn't quite catch that."

"I said, you're annoying."

He remains silent, licking his lips and gripping the wheel a bit harder. You eye him closely, your gaze traveling down to the tent forming in his pants. The corner of your lips up turns into a slight smile as he palms his erection, shifting his jeans around uncomfortably. "Damn it," he murmurs.

"Joel," you call out.

"Yes?" His tone is pained, voice airy with the need to bury himself deep inside of you. Fuck, just hearing you say his name made his length twitch against his thigh. No matter how upset you were, you still said his name with all the adoration in the world.

"I really gotta pee. It's been hours."

You watch as he checks his dashboard for the time, eyes widening after realizing just how long the two of you had been driving in utter silence. He shoots you an apologetic look, "Alright, bug. But you gotta be quick."

Joel drives until the next rest stop approaches, pulling into the parking lot that oversaw a grassy park area. A few cars scattered the lot, but otherwise, it was nearly deserted. You don't say anything as you hop down, slamming the door before he can get a word in.

Nobody ever slams his doors.

Hastily he unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the door, and takes long strides to your side of the truck. "You're still mad?" he huffs. He catches your arm before you can walk away, grabbing your hand and practically slamming you against his chest.

His eyes narrow as he stares down at you, daring you to rebuttal. But you're still forcing him into the silent treatment, lips shut tight as he waits for you to speak.

"Still not speaking to me, pretty baby?" He cocks his head, lips reaching dangerously close to yours. You shrug your shoulders, carelessly turning away from him.

A fresh wave of anger washes over him and suddenly crossing state lines was the last thing on his mind.

"Y'know what you do to me?" He grabs your hand, placing it on top of his growing erection. "M'so full sweetheart and it's all your goddamn fault. Fuck, you feel that? Practically dripping for you, Princess." He looms over you, watching the way your lips form into a desperate pout.

"But you were only worried about yourself. So inconsiderate," he hums. You whine as he lifts your chin, kissing your forehead softly despite the frustration gleaming in his eyes.

"M'sorry daddy. I just...I needed you."

"And you don't think I need you too? Couldn't stop thinking about burying myself between those legs. I Need you so badly, baby."

"I'm sorry," you whimper.

"Shh, no more sorry's. You know how to apologize correctly."

You nod, sinking to your knees without further questioning. He allows you to do all the work, unzipping his denim jeans until his thick length bobs free. He grasps his throbbing size and spits on it, meshing it with the precum dripping from his pulsating head. "Make it up to me," he states calmly, towering over your form.

He takes his length, slapping you across the face roughly. His cum stains your skin and mercilessly he repeats the action until he's practically pulsating with need. He's leaking viciously, drooling across your cheeks. "Two taps against my leg if you can't take it," Joel mumbles. "Otherwise, M'gonna fill that pretty mouth until my seeds drippin’ down it."

He palms the back of your head, pushing you down against his length until you gag. He adores the way you tried your hardest to make him fit, drool and precum coating your chin as you whimper against him. You even open your mouth wider to suck his balls, whining when you realize you couldn't fit both.

He laughs at your poor attempt to wrap your lips around them before finally putting you out of your "misery." He smirks, "Let me help you, sweetheart." You groan as he stuffs his balls into your mouth, sputtering out a small "thank you."

"Look at my pretty baby," he grunts. Joel grabs your cheek, squeezing it tightly. "Fuck. You like sucking daddy's fat cock, don't you? Just asking for someone to walk by and catch you suckin' me off. Bet that's what you want, isn't it, baby? You want to get caught? Show everyone how much of a fucking cockslut you are for me."

Joel throws his head back, leaning against the warm exterior of his truck. Your mouth feels so good around him, enrapturing him in a blissful warmth that only you could provide him. Words escaped his mind as you went deeper, uncaring of how messy you were being.

"B-baby," he shudders. "Just like that. M'not gonna last. You gotta stop. Fuck."

You take that as a sign to go slower and deeper, pausing for a few seconds before continuing your descent. You loved when Joel’s eyes rolled backwards, his hand desperately pushing you as far as you could go. He was always vocal, cursing and grunting all while murmuring your name in between. It didn’t matter that he was standing outside at the peak of sunset. He was gonna let everyone know exactly how you made him feel. 

"I didn't tell you to slow down," he groans.

Before you can make out an apology, Joel slams your face against the base of his cock. He thrusts into you, fucking your face and unleashing all the pent-up frustration in his system. "Gonna let me fuck my seed down that tight throat? I'll make it all nice and pretty for you, baby. Fuck, M'cumming baby. S’all for you.”

Ropes of cum spurt into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You whine as he pulsates against your tongue, his teeth grinding together as he fights the urge to shout. So full for you, baby. Hurts. “Take daddy's load. Make me feel better, sweetheart."

You drink him down until he's spent, smiling happily as he slips his cock from your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him clean.

He carefully tucks himself back into his jeans, paying little attention to how it was dripping on his front. "Beautiful, sweetheart. That was perfect."

He crouches down, swiping his thumb across your lip before kissing you gently. "Now let's get you all cleaned up. Just wait right here for me.”

You watch as he jogs into the building to ask for the restroom key. When he returns you’re in a blissful daze, smiling happily as he places another sweet kiss to your lips. He takes your hand, helping you up and leading you towards the bathroom. You nuzzle into his side, fearful that people would see you in such a vulnerable state.

"Look who's all shy, now." Joel laughs. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, drawing you in close until the two of you make it to the bathroom. He locks the door behind him, taking you towards the sink and wetting a paper towel.

"Will you get in trouble?" Your voice is hushed, the repercussions of your teasing coming into full perspective.

"Been working for them nearly half my life," he shrugs. "A little tardiness won't cost me the job."

You nod, still feeling the need to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, bug. I know how you get when you're all worked up."

You break out into a smile, "And how do I get?"

Joel scrunches his eyebrows, his eyes glimmering with warmth. "Mean."

"I'm not mean!" You giggle, playfully punching his side. He swats your hand away, bringing the warm paper towel to your face. He wipes you clean, placing one last kiss on your lips before throwing it away.

"Oh, you're very mean. Hurts my heart sometimes." His voice drops low and quickly you recognize the dark gleam in his eyes.

"Can you believe how mean you are to me, baby? Don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"Joel..."

"Yes?" He hums, closing his eyes briefly before making his move. He flips you around, pushing you against the counter and forcing you to stare into the mirror.

"Hate when you're mad at me, baby. But you know what I hate more? When you shut me out. You get all mean and suddenly I'm scrambling to make you feel better."

"M'sorry, daddy. I don't mean to make you feel that way." You stare into your reflection, meeting his heated gaze.

"Thought you were smart, didn't you, baby? I have to pee." He mocks your remark. "Knew what you were planning before you even said it," he scoffs. "But I'll still give my pretty baby whatever you want."

He unzips his denim once again, his length springing free. It looks heavier this time, veins inching their way up to the tuft of hair at his shaft. "Come on. Take it."

Your shorts slide to your ankles as he guides himself to your entrance. "Look at that..." he murmurs. "You're leaking' baby. Made a mess all over yourself. No wonder you were so whiny, been gushing the whole ride."

The moment his glaring tip breaches your entrance, you're a mess. Whining and begging him for more.

"Tell me how much you love my cock."

"I love your cock, daddy. Love how thick you are, fuck." You repeat the simple sentence until he's fully inside of you. He's so huge, spreading you wide until you have no choice but to bite your bottom lip to hold back your moans.

His hand rests on your hips while the other reaches around your front and slides beneath your shirt. He grips your tits, "You feel so good, baby. You feel me inside of you? Can hardly move, grippin' me so hard."

His hips slam against your ass. "Look at me. Fucking look at me." Joel lifts your head, forcing you to stare into the mirror as you feel yourself begin to unravel. You knew you wouldn't last long, not with how he's murmuring into your ear about how he wants to take you apart and paint every inch of your skin with his seed. His beautiful baby. 

You squeal as he slaps your ass and rubs it gently to mend the pain. The sting lingers as his fingers make their way to where you’re conjoined. He groans as he feels your wetness, drawing it down your thighs and back up towards your now parted lips. “Good girl, already knew what to do,” he coos. 

Joel can’t get enough of you. His free hand makes its way around your entire body. Down your throat, caressing your breasts as they fought to be released from your top, guiding your hips as you bounced against him. You were entirely his. 

"Gonna fill you with my cum, pretty baby. So next time you get all stupid and desperate you can just spread those legs in the seat and fuck yourself with it. "Rub your clit for me, baby. You're almost there. I can feel it." 

His heavy balls slap against your ass and if you had a camera, you’d see just how much Joel was leaking for you. Pre-cum coated his base, so much that he couldn’t tell the difference between yours and his. It dripped down the tuft of hair around his base and down his thighs. “Driving me crazy, sweetheart,” he moans. 

Tilting your head back, he slams his mouth against yours. 

And you lose it.

You gasp as your high hits, thrashing against his hold as his base becomes coated in your spend. "That's it, baby. I've got you. I've always got you.” He fucks you through his orgasm, groaning your name as he fills you up as promised.

He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating your body and sending another wave of pleasure through you. You shake against his hold, mumbling his name repeatedly until you finally feel him pull out.

“C’mere.” His soothing voice vibrates against your ears. He scoops you up, prepared to clean you once again. You hardly recalled the rest, in and out of sleep as he washed the both of you. Joel carried you back to the truck, legs swinging around his waist while he rubbed your back. You remembered waking up briefly as he buckled you in. He kissed your forehead softly before making his way to the driver's seat to which he leaned over for one last kiss.

You were addictive and the absolute love of his life. 

He smiles happily as he continues his drive, the pastures of cows greeting you two once again. Your tiny snores fill the air, so quiet that he refuses to put on music just to hear them. Joel’s eyes wander to the open field, crinkling with joy as he spots another brown cow.

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals To Lovers - Clark Kent - Part Twelve - Clark Kent, Superman|

Pairings: Clark Kent x AFABBlackCurvyReader

Warnings: abduction, Red Hood, mild confusion, language, minors DNI, violence, Dark Clark, Murderous Clark, manipulation, Jason being angsty

I'm so sorry this took so long, ya'll. Life is happening and I was at a loss for what to write at the same time. I'm very sorry to ya'll that are in love with this. I haven't forgot about you, I promise! Thanks for all the likes and love and reposts!

If you don't like it, don't read it.

No one could've predicted that Clark would actually have gone through with it. Not even he himself. But there he was, standing in a room full of men he never even bothered to even speak to, blood splattered across his chest from their attempt to destroy him.

The Gatling gun was a solid touch too.

Arguably this could've been spun as a case of self defense by any of Bruce's army of lawyers. They'd defended way worse. But really, there was real no reason to involve them, seeing how no one was left alive and no one was going to report lack of harassment from the local assholes. So it was win/win.

Bruce's dirty work was done. By someone willing to kill.

More specifically willing to kill for you, but semantics.

He picked up what Bruce asked for, looked at his phone and started typing.

Done.

It wasn't long before he got a response.

That was quick.

They weren't too bright.

They never are. Anyway, assuming you're headed to her apartment, I think it's wise to let you know that Y/N isn't there at the moment.

Clark stopped mid-flight.

Bruce's phone began ringing. Bruce exhaled.

"Where is she, Bruce?"

"She's at a high-rise on my side of town. A colleague of mine is entertaining her."

He neglected to tell him that Jason had her with him. Given Jason's record, Clark was likely to panic even more. Granted, telling him it was a colleague of his probably didn't ease his thoughts. It was quiet for a moment on his end before the phone hung up.

Shit.

He was angry. Angry and homicidal. He had to get to Jason first.

Which was going to be a challenge since Clark was now heading in that direction.

Broken shards of his phone rained into the river he flew over as he sped towards Gotham. He had no idea what Bruce had planned, but he was furious. Why did he feel the need to have you taken from your apartment when he'd already decided to do what Bruce had asked? He was doing far too much.

Had he not have crushed his phone he could've asked about why you were taken

Maybe Bruce didn't know about it

Then again, Bruce usually knew about everything.

So he didn't want to hear it.

He'd had enough of Bruce's bullshit.

As had you.

You eyed the masked man sitting across from you. He seemed very amused by your anger towards him. At that point, you hadn't said anything more to each other after his talk with Bruce, but he seemed pretty content about it. He was pretty well armored, so hitting him with anything in the room was probably useless. That and his reflexes were probably on point if he worked with Batman, so you knew it was useless to try.

In the first place, if he worked with Batman, he must have been a "good guy", so it was strange that he had decided to kidnap you. But you didn't know the motivations or morals of superheroes. In the back of your mind, you reminded yourself about Clark and his intent to "steal" Lois from what'shisface.

Y'all know his name

Anyway, it reminded you that Clark was just as human-like as the rest of you, despite his alien origins. He often hinted that Bruce was dangerous, but maybe your bae was dangerous too.

No, he was definitely dangerous

The thought of it excited you more than you wanted to admit. A powerful, deity-like being choosing you to be his everything didn't sound like a bad deal, but you had never really considered the baggage that came with it. It was also terrifying.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he interrupted in a tone that suggested he was definitely smirking. Your eyes rolled to him, but rolled back to the window that you half expected Clark to crash through any moment.

"Just thinking. What are you getting out of all this? Why abduct me for Bruce when you know 'Golden Boy' is probably gonna kill you for it?"

"So you acknowledge you're important to him. Interesting," he said in the same tone which made you want to smack him.

"You wouldn't have taken me if you knew I wasn't, so cut the shit. What's this whole thing about?" you demanded in a less edgy tone, as you did when you conducted your interviews.

"If I haven't made it abundantly clear, it's about you and Bruce. Like I said, you've been driving him to distraction. So much that his focus has been on Metropolis lately. Which isn't a problem, unless you're Gotham's protector. Whether you know it or not, you're a liability for us unless..."

"I'm here," you said, completing his thought. You couldn't believe this stupid ass plan. Was he seriously planning to make you choose between Clark and Bruce? The whole thing felt incredibly pre-school and immature, but this dude seemed as impulsive as they came. Especially since he was risking life and limb to convince you to choose his favorite.

He seemed content to your understanding of his goal in this, but you were still unsettled as to why he was so calm about a potentially murderous Superman heading there to destroy him and probably everything he loved. Something didn't sit right.

You continued to mull over the thought until your eyes caught a familiar form in the distant sky. Clark. He hadn't seen you yet, but you guessed that all you had to do was say anything aloud and he'd hear you.

"You have something up your sleeve."

It was mostly to catch Clark's attention but it was a genuine theory that you were curious about. He didn't respond, instead looking at his phone. Clark hadn't budged either, but from the looks of things, he hadn't heard you.

"So now you don't have a smartass retort?" you provoked a bit louder, trying to catch his attention. You had no idea the range Clark could hear at, but apparently it wasn't as far as you thought.

"I mean, I could mention how your ploy to catch his attention isn't working, but I think you might be figuring that part out already," he said, still looking at his phone.

You're eyes flickered between him and the window. True enough, Clark hadn't budged, but you were realizing it wasn't because you were out of range.

"I'm broadcasting a high pitched frequency from several places that only he can hear. It doesn't do much, but it makes it a bitch to try and find you by listening for your voice. But seeing how he does that whole x-ray bullshit, I'd say we have a few minutes longer to hang out."

Your eyes floated to the phone in his hand, which was in a heavy, most likely shatterproof, case. He put it back into his arm plate, which closed it off from your access, so there was no point in trying for that either. Your blood boiled.

No. There was no use in losing your temper.

That'd only give him more of the upper hand. He expected that of you

You damn sure weren't in the habit of giving assholes what they wanted

You took a deep breath, straightening the skirt of your dress as you sat back in your seat. "Say I do choose Bruce. What's to say I don't change my mind?"

He was hesitant at your sudden cooperative shift. "Not my business. I'm only here to set the stage for you to choose. Bruce is a big boy. If you say enough, he'll back off."

You raised a brow. "If he's such a 'big boy', why'd you do all this instead of letting him approach me instead?"

Sensing you were levelling with him, he plopped down across from you again. "Bruce drags his ass. Especially when it comes to women. Sometimes drastic measures have to be taken to force his hand. To be honest, Bruce is the only choice here. Either you choose him, or I put an end to all this right now."

You didn't like the sound of "put an end to all this"

Not because of the grammatical phrasing either

His tone implied he had plans to keep you from "distracting" Bruce ever again

Was it really that deep???

Your eyes rolled to the side. "With friends like you-"

"Shit gets done," he finished, subtle laugh slipping from behind his mask.

As if on cue, the wall behind him violently seemed to be blown to pieces. The pictures and lamps fell with a helpless crash while you ducked as best you could on the sofa, covering your head for added protection. You were vaguely aware of your captor hovering a bit closer, shielding your unarmored body from any debris--not something a person bent on unaliving you might be concerned with--but your eyes were mostly focused on the figure walking through the hole in the penthouse.

"Clark," you breathed, a relieved feeling rushing over you. However, the Clark you knew wasn't there. This was Superman. A very pissed off Superman. His cold gaze swept over the armored man in front of you.

"Get away from her," he demanded, his tone sharper and colder than you'd ever heard from him. You've heard him be sarcastic, even a little cold and vindictive. But this. This was deadly.

"Easy, Flyboy. I haven't laid a single finger on her," Jason smirked.

He didn't respond. Instead, using his lightning speed, his powerful grip was around the man's throat, lifting him from the floor. You watched, polarized by the sight, unsure if he was bluffing or really about to snap his neck.

Sure, he'd abducted you and put you there and part of you was thinking he got what he deserved

But you didn't really want to see him die for it

Though, something wasn't right. Clark stumbled and his grip weakened around his throat until he'd dropped him altogether.

"Clark?!" you gasped, rushing to his side as the Red Hood corrected himself and caught his breath.

"See now that....That's why I prepared this little contingency," he said, one of the compartments in his wrist gauntlet overturned and revealing a glowing green stone in it. Kryptonite.

You'd heard and written about it's effects before, but it was the first time you'd seen it first hand. It looked radioactive almost. It was a sickening green, but you weren't the one feeling its effects. It was Clark.

His breathing was steady, but he looked drained, his forearms shaking from exposure to even that small bit. The chamber rotated shut again and Clark looked to breathe normally.

"You okay?"

He flashed you a soft, but brief smirk. "Are you okay?"

"A little rattled, but nothing I can't handle," you joked smoothly, not wanting the masked asshole to think he'd gotten the best of you.

Jason straightened himself and plopped on the sofa across from the both of you again.

"Now. Since I have your attention-"

"Jason," Bruce's voice called from across the room with every authority of a father. Jason didn't seem deterred a bit. In fact, he relaxed further into his chair.

"Bout time you got here."

"What you're doing isn't necessary," Bruce said evenly. Not unlike someone talking someone from a ledge.

You got the sense that you were a subject that was talked about before, though you didn't really know the context.

This time, he took his mask off, his eyes fiercely aimed at Bruce. He tossed a bitter chuckle at him.

"It's not necessary? Funny, for a while there, I thought this little tryst was all you seemed to fuckin' care about. You couldn't even come to see her when she called you."

You looked between them. Was he referring to Selena Kyle? Whoever that was.

Bruce exhaled. "I was busy-"

"Right. We're all supposed to understand how you piss off to play playboy while she's fighting for her life right now-"

You jumped when he screeched suddenly, his body stiffening as a jolt of electricity hit him. As he collapsed, a smaller, curvier form stood just behind him, taser in hand. Catwoman.

"Tantrum's over, Junior," she said, stepping over his body and meeting Bruce across the room.

"I might've known you'd keep your eye on him," Bruce said, eyeing her with an eerily similar look he was giving you in the park.

Your reporter senses were tingling, sensing the obvious history the two of them had.

The soap opera had taken a sudden left turn

At this point you didn't care anymore

You had a headache

(was Jason okay, or...?)

(he's breathing. it's fine.)

"So I take it the dress-" Bruce said, his eyes flickering over to you. You suddenly felt self conscious and exposed being brought back into the conversation.

"His idea, my execution. I mean. I couldn't very well let him undress an unconscious woman like a creep," she said.

You found yourself liking Catwoman quite a bit

Of course, you wondered why she'd help him if she knew what he was doing was wrong in the first place

But, truly like a cat, she had her own logic and reasons

Still, you were relieved that Jason hadn't seen all your business while you were out cold

"After I heard he was speeding off towards Metropolis, I couldn't bring myself to let him make a dumbass of himself. Call it a favor for my favorite Bat," she winked, though he looked less than amused to be owing her anything. She tapped the tip of his nose before exiting through the generous hole in the room made by Clark.

Then it was quiet. You helped Clark to his feet, though he seemed to be regaining his strength fairly quickly after the stone was securely back inside Jason's armor.

"You must think the worst of me," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair.

"I never really though much of you to begin with, but I'm sure you have an explanation," Clark said, still sounding thoroughly pissed.

Though not homicidal, so that was something

Bruce seemed to be wrestling with idea of telling you everything, but given the situation, it couldn't be helped. Jason had forced his hand.

"Strange's goons poisoned Barbara with a synthetic drug."

"I'm guessing that's why you needed this," Clark said, handing Bruce a vial.

Bruce took it, immediately scanning it with his watch. "The compounds in the poison is the only way to create an antidote. She left a tracker with one of them as they fled the scene and it pinpointed them being in the outskirts of Metropolis. Going in alone might've meant suicide, or worse, them smashing the vial. I needed to send someone they weren't expecting."

Your eyes drifted to Clark, who looked to have simmered down considerably. He was definitely not someone you'd expect. Your eyes swept down his solid form in his blood-stained spandex- Wait...

Did he kill for that vial?

When you'd imagined Superman, you always pictured a dude that always knocked out bad guys and sent them to jail, not to the cemetery

"What did you do?" you asked quietly, turning towards him. He didn't look at you immediately, instead taking a deep breath.

“When I saw you two on the street, I knew it was the perfect way to get him to do what I needed,” Bruce spoke up, sounding oddly like he was trying to defend him.

Clark’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Bruce didn’t say anything more, surrendering the situation to him.

Clark turned to you, his eyes softening considerably.

You knew what he wanted to say. What he was ashamed to admit. But you were done.

“Take me home," you said before he could even find the words to offer.

He quietly lifted you in his arms and effortlessly sailed from the window, leaving Bruce and Jason behind.

(Part 11)

[thirstnotes]