where the trees bend low, where the greenery stings.
: abt me. masterlist. old account.
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where the trees bend low, where the greenery stings.
: abt me. masterlist. old account.
angel on fire
summary: falling for your gorgeous, 6'4, fire chief slash superhero roommate is bad enough- falling for the guy everyone else wants is its own kind of torture. you try to move on, but it's useless; clark kent has fought enough fires to know when one's about to ignite.
firefighter ! clark kent x roommate ! reader
themes: ...guys... hear me out. clark's still superman, but he's also a firefighter. mutual pining. omfg, he's a gentleman. you're a journalist at the planet, jimmy's your bff. so super proud of this one, enjoy!!
oh my god this is everything to me.
the last half where all clark can focus on is the way the readers heart picks up at every single word or move he makes kills me like fuuckk just say something anything pleaseee [cry emoji]
clarks so attentive too likeeee )))): he has everything she likes committed to memory and the very makings of a gentleman embedded in his bones its so endearing srsly.
patiently waiting for more of this dynamic if theres more to come <333
#abt me
eve. nineteen years old. rabbit holes of all things geek, fanfiction and fandom. she&her. sag sun aries asc aquarius moon. slow writer.
classic lit & historical fiction & romantasy reader. currently (re)reading: east of eden, john steinbeck. 1952.
fandoms i write for: dc comics. marvel. the last of us. love and deepspace. the pitt.
+ artists i <3 — adéla. slayyyter. horsegiiirL. ethel cain. julia wolf. zara larsson. pinkpantheress. olivia dean. lexie liu. imogen heap. tiffany day. 2hollis. paramore. pierce the veil. sheena ringo. evanescence. fall out boy. doja cat. ariana grande.
# index , of all things eve .
key : 𖦹 ; for smut. ⟢; for fluff. .ᐟ ; personal favorites.
⤿ dc comics.
clark kent; 𖦹.ᐟ handjobs. 𖦹 coming untouched. 𖦹 humiliation. 𖦹 omegaverse.
⤿ marvel.
bucky barnes; 𖦹 threesome feat. yelena belova. 𖦹 voyeurism.
college age! bucky barnes; 𖦹 jealous fwbs.
⤿ the last of us.
joel miller; 𖦹 somnophilia. 𖦹 dacryphilia.
⤿ love & deepspace.
caleb xia; 𖦹.ᐟ dogboy!caleb.
⤿ the pitt.
tba.
kinktober 2025.
heeyy ive been ia for forever my bad 😭 ... ive been in a really bad writing slump since the beginning of october, so i havent had the mental capacity nor opportunity to sit down and write something, but i hope ill have something out by next week? at the earliest? someone get me out of this slump pleaseee [cry]
sneak peaks @ my next workssss (hopefully) shhhh
⋆˙⟡ before the sun: cowboy!clark kent x gn!reader.
summary: all the softest morning with your cowboy husband, clark. when he kisses you good morning before going to work, or coming home to watch the storm coming. he just loves you so much.
cw: 1.4k words. big fluff !!!!! cowboy clark au.
taglist: @userhotd @angeldoll1e @rogersbarber @i-t0ld-ya @stargral @fawnettewinchester @grimsonandclover @clementinestars @rayrayyyyyyyyyyy @allegedlygrandmoth @nozhdyved @elenacarey @alexxavicry @gelotime @prismozo @lvve-talks @kathh01 @jclolz22 @dumbbandpoetic @hisfavoriteweepingangel @i-cant-stfu @bluestrd ( to be added )
You’re somewhere between dreaming and waking when the bedroom door creaks open—quiet, like it always is, because Clark’s careful that way. The soft scrape of his boots across the wooden floor follows, he doesn’t turn on the light. He never does; he doesn’t need to.
The room is still painted in blue-grey shadows, the earliest hints of morning stretching through the sheer curtains. You feel the dip of the mattress as he leans in, the faint weight of him close to your side. Then warmth—his warmth and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
His cologne, the kind you picked out and he only wears because you like it, curls into your nose. Something woodsy and grounded. Real. And then his stubble grazes your skin.
Scratchy, familiar, sweet.
“Baby,” he whispers, low and gravelly, the way voices get before coffee. “I’m headin’ out.”
You make a soft noise—half protest, half hello—curling deeper into the comforter, your face only barely peeking from beneath the plush weight of the duvet. The sheets are still warm with sleep, and the pillow under your head smells like fabric softener and Clark’s shampoo.
𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 (𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠)
pairing: bucky barnes x f!agent!reader
summary: You make Bucky regret ever suggesting that your arrangement is 'just sex' by flirting with other men. He makes you regret ever flirting with other men by giving you a bit of well-earned discipline.
warnings: 18+ mdni!!, smut with a sprinkling of plot, spanking, fingering, unprotected p in v, dumbification, creampie, condescending!bucky, bigdick!bucky, tummy bulge, general filth and debauchery, kinda dubcon but more like undernegotiated kink, no daddy kink but do not be fooled bc this whole thing reeks of daddy issues (see: title), jealousy, use of petnames (doll, sweetheart, baby etc.), implied age gap, bucky calls reader kid, no use of y/n, jealousy, cursing, mention of alcohol, slightest bit of angst if you squint hard, situationship to relationship pipeline
word count: 7k words
dividers by: @chateaubarnes (jewel toned dividers)
a/n: so. sat down in front of a blank google doc to write a 800-900 word drabble based on this ask. blacked out. snapped out of it and found myself with 7k words of pure filth and a pit of self-disgust in my stomach that i think will last my whole life. bon appetit.
please reblog / comment if u liked this. otherwise i die </3
Bucky knows this is all his fault.
He’s fully aware he’s the one that started this whole thing. When he first said those words to you - ‘no emotions, no exclusivity, just sex’ - he watched about twenty emotions roll over you in the space of a few seconds. First was offence, as if he had just shot you the nastiest insult you could have imagined. Next was something uncomfortably close to hurt. But eventually, he watched a sort of smugness begin to sprout over you - like you knew you would make him regret it.
And fuck, does he ever.
── .✦ PAIRING: charlie reid x reader
── .✦ SUMMARY: stuck on your father’s ranch, there’s nothing you look forward to - except your uncle charlie’s visits. but this thanksgiving, he’s hungry, and not for your cooking.
── .✦ WARNINGS: minors, do not interact! dubcon, fauxcest, pussy eating, corruption, fingering, daddy kink, virginity loss, p-in-v sex.
── .✦ WC: 6.3k.
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
IT WAS COLD, UNBEARINGLY SO. even from inside, the chill had creeped up your bones. as you peeked outside, you winced - it didn't look good. despite the storm only starting hours ago, inches of white tufts had already covered the prairies outside.
thanksgiving was approaching, and soon all the big wigs from town would clamor to the ranch, bellies aching for supper. by tomorrow, you'd have to clean the house from top to bottom, clear a path from the ranch to the road, cook heaps of food, and ensure the horses were all taken care of.
you wished things weren't this way, but alas, those were your fathers rules. your brothers lazed and you did the housework. no wonder your mother ran from the ranch with nothing but the clothes on her back.
but there was no time to dwell, your chores had to be done. you didn't want to slack and invite your father's rage. reluctantly, you layered all of the warm clothes you could fit on, tugged on your mother's old coat, and got to shoveling.
woooowww this chemically changed my dna actually.
"uncle charlie - oh - we have to - ah - close the-" "didn't i tell you? his rules don't matter when you're with me." charlie spits, still tongue deep in your cunt. you protest again, but charlie doesn't care, nuzzling his face just so he can feel the hair on your pussy brush his stubble.
im faint im dizzy im— hes so demanding even with his mouth half way inside your cunt. literally losing himself in your slick but he needs you to listen likeeee. and the way the reader is fully obedient too has me crazy, like a kicked puppy i love it allll
charlie reid doesn't do quiet.
no notes. just had to highlight this part bc it had me going insane
"try it out sweet pea." charlie's hands stroke your back, as if he's trying to ease you into it. but charlie knows you'll say it eventually. it was impossible for you to say no to him. "papa," you say, almost whisper. "again, sweet pea-" "papa." this time your words are louder, full of conviction. as if you've known that this has been charlie's role all along.
okay this entire section might just be my favorite bit of this wholeee fic just because it feeds the little voice in my head. daddy is one thing, but papa is sooo. the innocence behind the word and how she uses it, especially how it was the way she called her own father once. now using it in a sexual sense— completely defiling the word for her. i love your brain <33
me and this fic:
i’ve got something special in the cards for you <3 . . . kinktober25 / cbt
bob reynolds (mcu) with gender neutral, teammate!reader. nsfw. a lighthearted conversation escalates into a newfound kink for bob. + kinktober masterpost & regular masterlist.
"does it hurt?" you ask, batting your eyelashes as you look up at him. "does it hurt, baby?"
oh, im soooo insane about this. the almost condescending usage of 'baby' while choking out his cock is so so so hot.
after a groan, he replies, a string of babble leaving his mouth. "no, no, it's so good... it's good, i... yeah, it's good... you're good. i love you. i think i'm gonna come, and i love you, and i-ahh, aha- i think i'm gonna come, can i? can i come? oh, please, please, gonna come for you, just you, if you- if you let me, please let me-"
i love babbling. love love loveee babbling, and bob being all whine-y and asking for permission to come, while drunk off the feeling of your hand? yes yes yes! thank u for this. like deadass this made my week.
KINKTOBER DAY 13: OMEGAVERSE / A/B/O . . .
tags: nesting, scenting, marking, mentions of heat suppressants, solo masturbation, late heat cycle, p in v, breeding, hyperspermia, multiple orgasms, no refractory period, bdc (big dick clark), cervix kissing, golden retriever energy clark (heh), usage of (1) "good boy", omega clark kent, sub top dom bottom dynamics. not proofread.
⚠︎ the amt of tags this has makes me feel like that one twitter meme 'i just made some bullshitttttt'
clark kent— at the end of the day— is just like anyone else. if you end up putting the inevitable on the back burner, it will always come back to bite you in the ass.
and this seems to be the case with clark when he finds himself in bed, with what he could chalk up to as a fever. having always had a great immune system, he’s never had to worry about catching some regular old bug that everyone seems to get when the seasons change from summer to autumn. but from what he’s seen you experience, this seems the most likely.
it feels as though there's lava bubbling underneath his skin when he throws himself onto the bed you share, the left side being yours. the residual scent that lingers on the wrinkled linen sheets seems to ease the fire burning in his body, the slightest whiff from his impact on the mattress catching in his nose and has him letting out a sigh of relief.
can you imagine bucky laying on the bed and you’re straddling his waist, leaning down placing slow kisses from his neck, to his collarbones. his breathing a little heavy, as he let you do whatever you wanted to him.
your hips rocked against his clothed bulged, your teeth digging onto his sweet spot, making him moan quietly. “my sweet baby boy..” you cooed, your nails grazing his sides making him shiver.
instead of riding him (which caught him off guard) you pulled his sweats down, freeing him as you settled between his thighs holding his length in your hand—slowly stroking him.
“d-doll—“ bucky whimpered, his hips jerking up as you slapped his thigh. “stay still.” you ordered firmly. bucky was already sweating, you’ve been edging him for hours it seemed like.
your thumb swiped over his slit, flattening your tongue from his balls licking all the way up to the head as his stomach clenched, whining. “please, please—“
“please what?”
“please mommy, please, i need you to suck me, fuck, please suck my cock.”
“you beg so pretty for me baby..” your lips wrapping around the mushroom head before taking him fully in your mouth, bucky let out a guttural moan, fisting the sheets, “fuck, fuck! oh god..”
you looked up at him with your beautiful eyes, bobbing your head watching him struggling to keep eye contact with you, your tongue swirling as you pulled away with a pop!
bucky whined, “no, no i was so close, please—“ “i got you baby boy..” you purred, taking off your panties as you hovered over him, sinking down slowly, your nails digging into his broad chest.
bucky sighed, his head against the pillows, “please can i touch you mommy please, please?” he begged making you smirked, “go ahead and touch mommy baby..”
you felt his large, calloused palms touch your hips, guiding you, his head thrown back in pleasure. in a swift movement he took control, his arm around your waist as he held you down, bare chest to chest as he pounded up into you.
“fuck, fuck, fuck! sweet pussy squeezing me so tight doll.” he panted, your nails digging into his biceps as you whined out some type of moans.
“b-bucky! fuck!” you squealed, feeling your juices squirt out every time he hit your gspot. “cum for me pretty girl, c’mon cum on my fat cock.”
your eyes saw white as you cum on his cock, your walls squeezing him as he released deep inside your walls, your head on his shoulder as you both caught your breath.
“fuck.”
@heldbybarnes @buckyfmd @sheriff-bodecker @iamthatonefangirl @earthsmightiestbenders @opheliabbarnes @superbassbuck @juniebjonesin @unificsation @houseofhyde @54nboo @flockoff-featherface @umbreoni @chateaubarnes @firingstars @blowingbarnes @its-in-the-woods @barnesonly @wint3rbarnes @devililithh @kqtholins @amoremarveloustime @colettebarnes @metal-armed-muse @slutforsr @herejustforbuckybarnes
"please mommy, please, i need you to suck me, fuck, please suck my cock."
the concept of sub!bucky with a mommy kink. this is making me insaneee
"please can i touch you mommy please, please?" he begged making you smirked, "go ahead and touch mommy baby."
and he asks for permission before touching you Yesssss😭😭😭😭 omg this is everything and moooorreee to me. obedient bucky mhmm mhm. if you read me this on my death bed and i dont wake up, just know im actually dead and start planning a funeral
KINKTOBER DAY 10: SOMNOPHILIA . . .
tags: joel miller x reader, sharing one bed trope, dubcon due to the nature of somno, cunnilingus, wet dreams, p in v, reader is described to be smaller in size compared to joel, keeping quiet, joels soft at the end. not proofread.
⚠︎ out much much later than i hoped sorryyyy. i was out of town and had too many different ideas for this prompt
kinktober directory!
joel’s shirt clings to his skin in all the wrong ways, sweat gluing the tee to his back and the collar of it digging into his skin. it’s much too warm in here, the air is thick and humid and much too palpable. you seem to be doing just fine though, or as well as someone who is asleep can be doing– eyes drawn shut, arm strewn across your midsection while small snores bubble in your throat. but you’re just as sweaty as joel is, if not more. stray hairs stick to your forehead with flushed cheeks, and sweat that formed along your hairline beading down your skin and down your nose.
he can feel the warmth buzzing off of your skin from your proximity, practically shoulder to shoulder and knees bumping against one another in a bed that is much too small for two full grown adults to be sharing this way. joel gives you more space though, even if you had argued earlier that he doesn’t have to give up his comfort for yours when you noticed how close he was teetering to the edge of the mattress– his arm becoming his pillow for the night as he pressed himself to the edge once more.
maybe it’s the sleep that creeping up on him, feeling it in the creaking of his joints and the drag of his eyelids every time he blinks— but he can’t help but notice you. the way your white tank top sticks to you, your sweat penetrating through the thin fabric and soaking it through. your skin faintly visible from underneath, creasing where your torso bends and clinging to your stomach. it caves in between the divot of your chest, soaked fabric cupping around the swell of your tits.
she ain’t wearing anything underneath, joel squinted. the slight pebbling of your nipples visible from the way they peak underneath the tank top. he adjusts his jaw by rolling it, suddenly much too aware of what he was doing. ogling you. he swallows back something he's fully aware of, feeling the slow drag of it down his throat as he looks up to the ceiling.
maybe the exposed wooden beams and the beginnings of rotting wood he spots in the corner would quell the thumping of his heart in his chest.
the mattress dips beside him, and suddenly you both are much closer than joel needs right now. his leg is sandwiched between yours, the change of positions to your side has your chest pressing together and your cheek, now smushed against his supposed corner of the pillow. joel feels himself freeze for a beat, heart lodged in his throat and much too aware of your skin on his. it’s the middle of summer, heat laying thick even in the odd hours of the night, so your choice of shorts makes sense. but the hem bunched into the crook of your thigh, more and more of your warm skin exposed to his salacious eyes.
“joel…” murmured into the fluff of the pillow. so quiet, joel almost convinced himself his brain had made it up before it happened again. a little slower, said with something he couldn’t quite place.
a languid roll of your hips had him very much aware, though. it was experimental in nature, curiousity deep in your sleeping bones that was trying to find friction in what was closest– which happened to be joel’s thigh. the cotton of his pants bunching with your weight as you continued. it was the small hiccups that caught in your throat that told him you weren’t entirely in your right mind, dirty thoughts coming to the surface and this was the result of them.
deft fingers lazily grip the hem of his shirt, pulling him that much closer to your flushed body. joel can’t help the itch in his fingers though, the slipping restraint of wanting to feel your skin under his. to feel the blooming warmth of your hips pinched under his fingers. the rough pads of his fingers carefully blanket over the expanse of your exposed thigh, warm and soft under them. your body seems to respond to it in the form of a shift of your shoulders and another roll of your hips.
the experimental hands of joel miller trail up your hips, down into the dip of your waist, and back up your ribcage to your chest. first, it’s a careful nudge of his thumb against your nipple, enjoying the way you twitch at the new stimulation. then, it’s a soft squeeze of the fat of your tits in his hand. joel realizes then how much smaller you are compared to him, his whole hand manages to fit you comfortably and then some, and it does something to him.
goosebumps wash over his spine and he can feel his cock chubbing up underneath the cotton of his boxers, tightening with every throb he feels in his pelvis. joel knows he should stop, take his hands off you and just let you continue on your own accord– but it seems physically impossible. he almost hates the way the idea of touching you when you’re so… unaware, has him leaking in his pants like a teenager.
but every little reaction joel seems to pull out of you with a feather light touch eggs him on further, so he can't help but continue.
joel shifts his body, propping himself up on one arm until he’s hovering above you. inches away from your skin. he drives his knee onto your slick cunt, the pressure has you whining in your sleep. drool leaking from the edge of your mouth onto his side of the pillow, wet spot blooming onto the white pillowcase. you grind, and grind, until he eventually replaces his knee with his thumb. the more focused, attentive pressure onto your clothed cunt of joel’s thumb against you has you stirring in bed, chin jutting upwards and a cry ripping from your chest.
his fingers dip underneath the elastic waistband of your shorts, slipping them down until bare. entirely bare. you hadn’t worn anything underneath, and while the rational part of joel’s brain says it’s due to the heat– the other part of his brain whispers that you did it on purpose. joel swallows thickly, “jesus christ, sweetheart. you’re killing me here…”
the sheen of your slick coating your folds catches the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the blinds, and the patch of hair you sport dipped in it. at first, it’s a slow tentative stripe along the surface, testing the waters to see just how much your sleeping body can handle. you twitch at the warmth of his tongue, soft breaths rolling out from your nose at each flick of joel’s tongue against your hole.
your nails scrape against joel’s scalp when they find purchase in the bed of his salt and pepper curls, “mmm— joel…” you mumble sweetly, sleep still thick on your tongue and barely audible. he can feel the clench in your thighs against his ears when he suckles on your clit, beard scruff scraping against the soft supple fat of your thighs.
joel’s forearms wrap, and bring pull you flush against him, leaving little room for air– but more of you to fill up the space. joel doesn't complain, groaning into your cunt to lap up more of your juice. your ambrosia has him on cloud nine, the crook of his jaw aching with each roll of it into your heat but he pays it no mind, continuing through the sting.
even if joel did feel the force of your fingers clawing at his hair for more, or wanton cries that he pulls from your throat, he does nothing about it. you shift in his grasp, hips switching against the mattress as you blink the sleep out of your eyes. eyebrows furrowing and relaxing in rhythmed beats. “joel…? what— mmm, fuck— what are you,” the sudden prodding of slick muscle against the rim of yours choking the words in your throat.
drowsy complaints fall on deaf ears— joel’s much too good, and the feeling of locked knees refusing to give way. your gut feels heavy, knot impossibly tight. joel feels it, your body giving you up much before you even notice to say anything. “c’mon, baby. give it to me.” the desperate need to feel more of you laid on thick in his words.
you mumble pleas under your breath, jaw slowly opening and closing with gaped breaths that never quite make it out of your chest entirely. your hips stutter against the warmth of joel’s tongue, back arching up from the mattress and sweat slicking down the slope of it. jaw growing slack as you barely have time to breathe before the rope snaps and left heaving against the pillow. juices leaving droplets in their wake on the scruff of joel’s beard when he finally looks up at you through the valley of your thighs.
“wasn’ expecting that one.” you huff through soft laughs, you brace yourself on your elbows to meet his eyes, sweat slicking down your cheek. after a last lick carded through your slick folds, “shoulda’ seen what you were doing to me— humping on me like a dog.”
he huffs air through his nose as you squabble, head up, “didn't know i was doing that— s’different…”
his shoulders hunch upwards in a shrug as he hums, “coulda’ said the same f’me.” hands skimming the sides of your waist, coming up to meet you in a quick kiss. your movements delay from the sleepy groan in your joints as you peck him back.
joel’s hands cup over your hips, thumbing them open to push himself in between them— the stiff press of his groin on you, zipper cold against your skin. he spares you a glance, something of a silent search of approval in your face before tucking himself inside you.
it’s slow and languid, filling you out inch by inch entirely. he groans at the constricting warmth, gaping out curses in inaudible pops. every slick slap of his thighs meeting the backs of yours reverberated against the thin walls, enunciated with a whine from your lips each time. and with your knees touching your ears, bent over the thick muscle of joel's shoulders— it doesn't help to ease the shocks that roll up your spine. the blunt head of his cock crammed itself tight against that spot you like, the one that has your back lifting off the sheets and curling against his broad chest.
“gotta’ keep quiet, baby— don' forget it ain’t just us here.” groaned under his breath after a particular plunge inside your walls, jutting his chin weakly towards the door. even when joel's clearly too enthralled by the way your body seems to receive him, tight and warm in all the right ways— ellie’s still his priority. it’s sweet, even if the moment doesn't call for it.
you try to keep the noises at bay, an occasional squeak pushed out from between lips pressed into a line. but it's too hard to keep things down when joel’s fucking into you the way he is now, nibbling at the soft skin of your neck as his breath rolls in warm waves across your shoulder while his cock kisses the deepest parts of you— and joel seems to get the hint.
his hands are cradling your hips, commanding his own rhythm with your body on his and presses a kiss to your mouth to keep you quiet. the slick muscle of his tongue runs along your teeth and dances with yours, sleepy in the way joel moves in slow bouts with you to swallow the sounds. he parts with you for a beat, “feel that good, huh?” humming a warm laugh into your lips as he goes back in for more.
you gasp into his mouth, head pushing down into the pillow, “yes— yes! mmm, give me more, joel. feel t’fucking good—”
the rough scrape of his thumb against your swollen clit stings in the way your ankles lock behind joel’s neck, using the leverage to grind into his groin, feeling the feather light tickle of hairs as you press down. “fuck, joel— i’m gonna— please—”
“come f’me then— i know you can do it, c’mon.”
release is tight in your stomach, the muscles in your back tensing in split second intervals as you gush around the girth of joel's cock. obscene squelching noises as he continues his same stuttered pace into your convulsing heat, “the—ere you go, baby. go—od girl, y’took me so fuckin’ well.”
you tremble in joel's hold, thighs quivering against his sweat-slicked shirt as he smooths circles into the fat of your thigh in his hand, slowly easing his pace to something more manageable. joel eventually pulls himself out right when he’s about to finish, pumping the aching head of his cock in between your slick folds before spilling over them. cum streaming down with each tug of his hand, keening over into your warmth as his breath catches in his chest.
it dries on your skin with a particularly sticky tack against your thighs before lapping it up, the mix of the salted musky taste thick on his tongue causing him to groan into your soft slicked skin. joel places rather light kisses onto the skin of your stomach, staying a second longer on spots you have moles on, before trailing upwards again.
it’s bittersweet, every plush press of his lips feels like he truly believes you wouldn't remember this in the morning— or that he would forget, not that he could. like he’s savoring the heat of your body to commit it to memory, adding it to his mental scrapbook of all things shared between you that joel has yet to admit meant more than he’s already said.
and you don’t verbalize any of the thoughts you had, some things tend to be better left unsaid— this being one of the many such cases. you simply sit in the comforting warmth of joel's weight against your back with his nose dug into the crown of your head, and your hand laid atop his on your waist.
taglist: @artificialstardust @stayonmars @formula1li @222low @inlovewithpsychos @haerinsmable @pleurspetal