•𝐸𝓁𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽•

22 y.o. https://character.ai/profile/Alekseevna_

[el1za-beth]

Sweety sweety - And One

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 2:58

Sweety, sweety, marry me Hunderttausend kids for me Chances will passing by My dear Sweety, sweety, marry me Hunderttausend kids for me Chances will passing by My dear

[vanilla-bean-18]

from pinterest

[el1za-beth]

I'm in love with "Caged" by

@valarrtheyoungprince

[nekotato]

Máté Kamarás as Herbert, Vienna 1999

[greatspacedustbin]

[beentainted]

why did this clip make me feel things 😵‍💫 i'm ovulating.

[pissbataille]

Let's not manspread with papa

[ladythedrunken]

Need Ser Duncan pounding me from behind and Daeron in my mouth

[ourvibe]

[valarrtheyoungprince]

yum

[winnysplayground]

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

[scftangl]

Me searching for fanfics after watching a series/film/videogame/reading a book and becoming obsessed with that character:

[bullseyegoon]

i really like the hip thing he does. For no particular reason.

[m6cabre]

me after checking the "ethan landry x reader" tag and not seeing anything new:

[el1za-beth]

ʀ ᴜ ᴍɪɴᴇ? °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

F!reader x Clark Kent (superman 2025)

wr: masturbation,fluff, kisses

1 part | 2 part |////

After that incident, two men now occupy your thoughts, the sweet Daily Planet worker and the noble Superman.

No one bothered you at work, which was good, but that journalist from the Daily Planet never came to that cafe again. The more days passed, the faster you forgot about him, continuing to live your usual routine.

For the first time in months, you decided to relax on a Friday evening away from home. You decided to go to a cafe; you had no friends, so you went alone, bought popcorn and a Coke, and went to buy a ticket to the next showing of any movie. You didn't care, just to sit in one place for an hour or two and think about nothing but the story on the screen.

The next show was in 15 minutes - the film "Love, Rosie" you had seen it before, this film was not new, but lately the cinemas have been showing old films a lot, maybe it was even good, not that you were a fan of films about love, but why not?

No one was allowed into the movie theater yet, you sat at a table, waiting for the janitors to finish cleaning after the last show and you could take your place. There were few people in the lobby, everyone was buying tickets for action movies or thrillers, some came with their families, some with their partners. Maybe you'll be lucky and you'll be alone in the movie theater.

After a while, you handed your ticket to the inspector for checking and then went inside. You found your seat and sat down, placing the popcorn in the holder and opening a Coke in advance. Just in case, you checked to see if there were any tissues in your purse because you clearly remembered crying the last time you saw this movie, and, well, you know, it's better to be on the safe side.

The ad had already ended, and until then, no one else was there except you and a teen couple in the back row who couldn't keep their hands off each other, but they didn't bother you much.

The movie had been going on for three minutes when the door opened, shedding a strip of light into the dark room.

A man walked inside, and the door closed behind him. He stumbled slightly in the darkness and walked to his seat, just one seat to your left.

Why here? There's no one here, why doesn't he sit somewhere further away?

You turned to him, and the furious stream of angry thoughts died down when you saw the familiar side face with those ridiculous glasses in the light from the big screen.

Holy cow.

You quickly turned back to the screen. Angry thoughts gave way to other, more confusing ones.

Why is he here, of all people, for this movie? Damn, I thought I'd never see him again… What if it was fate?

You had to ask his name and get his number, otherwise you'll never forgive yourself and will be kicking yourself for months, if not years. You reached for your open bottle of Coke but dropped it… and the sweet, dark liquid spilled right onto Clark's pants.

The man winced and resisted the urge to curse under his breath, but you cursed loud enough for him to hear and frantically pulled wet wipes out of your bag and handed them to Clark.

"Fuck... Sorry, sir, for God's sake, I did that by accident…" You blushed deeply.

The man chuckled quietly and took the napkins, blotting his wet jeans. “It’s okay, it happens to everyone… Do I know you?” His blue eyes focused on your face before smiling a little wider. “Oh, you work at the cafe next to the Daily Planet building. I was there once, it was very good.”

The two of you left the movie and went to the restroom. You stood behind the wall while Clark washed the sticky cola off his jeans. Luckily, the jeans were also black, so the stains were barely visible. You sat on the floor, holding a half-finished caramel popcorn. You felt awkward, but at least you got to know him better.

Clark began regularly visiting your café in the evenings, inviting you to the movies, and each time, teasingly and demonstratively, he'd take your Coke from your hand, placing it on his side of the seat. It became an almost constant ritual in your lives: movies every Wednesday and Friday, he'd pay for tickets and snacks, open doors for you, and walk you home afterwards.

Finally, a couple of months after you'd met, during a movie, his hand landed on your jaw, almost weightlessly. You turned your face toward him, and he leaned in slightly with his eyes closed. You thought about it when you saw your seats were in the last row at the tickets, but you decided you were just delusional, and Clark couldn't be so predictable... but predictability doesn't mean a lack of romance.

His lips hesitantly touched yours, brushing slightly. It wasn't a kiss, it was a question. He was waiting for your move.

Your eyelashes fluttered slightly before your eyes closed completely and your lips crashed into his, knocking the air out of his lungs. He had expected more uncertainty but he certainly appreciated your eagerness because it eased his hesitation.

His hand on your jaw now rested confidently on your thigh, caressing the fabric of your jeans with his thumb, and your arms were wrapped around his shoulders. After this moment, everything changed between you, now everything became clear

Clark was the one you dreamed about, the one you wanted to wake up with and you did it. You moved into his apartment, slept in the same bed, watching movies at the cinema now became a home affair in his living room, and instead of snacks, there was dinner that you both cooked.

Clark always fell asleep after you and woke up first. You never saw him without his glasses. He only wasn't wearing them occasionally at night during sex, but only if the room was dark. This was rare because he liked to see you underneath him, so he fucked you with his glasses on the other times. But you didn't think it was a big deal. After all, what if he was blind as a bat?

You woke up in the morning by kisses on your neck and along your shoulder, tender strokes on your bare side, then on your thigh, before a gentle hand unhesitatingly slid between your legs, gently caressing you, still sensitive from last night. You moaned into the pillow, squeezing his hand between your thighs.

Clark purred softly in your ear, his chest pressed against your back. You cracked your eyes open and turned your head over your shoulder to see Clarke, his glasses on and his hair tousled.

"Hey, handsome. Are you caressing me before I even wake up?" you said without a hint of anger; you loved waking up like this with Clark, especially after hot nights.

Clark's lips curved into a gentle smile and he nuzzled your nose. "I'll probably be late at work today. Don't wait up for me, have dinner and go to bed. I'll be sure to call you." He got out of bed and pulled clothes out of the closet, pulling them on.

Clark leaned toward you again, resting his knee on the mattress, and kissed your forehead. "Rest, baby, love you."

The day passed rather routinely. Clark had been late at the office before so it wasnt bothering you. You knew his friends, Jimmy, Lois, and the other guys, they were all friendly to you when you brought him lunch at work, and you trusted him completely. Moreover, this was the first corporate party at his place of work in a couple of months. You wanted him to relax and have a good time. You had dinner, took a shower, changed into your pajamas, and flopped into bed, waiting for the next day when you could spend time with your man.

The faucet water trickled icy cold into a glass in the middle of the night when you rubs your eyes sleepily, crossed the dark living room. And froze. On the sofa, in a sliver of moonlight, lay the silhouette of a man.

Clark.

But not the Clark who had kissed the top of her head that morning, promising to stay for the "boring Daily Planet corporate party." This Clark was a broken mannequin, hastily stretched in someone else's skin. A white shirt, unbuttoned, hung over a blue leotard with a scarlet "S" on the chest, barely covered by fabric. The trousers from an office suit were worn over blue pants. And his glasses, the very ones that made his gaze soft and inconspicuous, had slid down to the tip of his nose, revealing the features that you never seen.

He was asleep. His breathing was heavy, his lips parted. A fresh bruise darkened his cheekbone, and Superman's suit gaped with smoky bald spots, as if it had been scraped with a hot iron. One arm hung limply from the sofa pillow, his fingers trembling slightly.

The world narrowed to this moonbeam and the silence, in which a voice in your head suddenly rang out:

"Metropolis was just saved from destruction, and you bring me soup when I'm sick."

"You always know the right thing to say. You appear the second I think of you."

"Your hands… God, your hands have supported the weight of a skyscraper, and today you so carefully adjusted the blanket around my shoulders…"

You didn't exhale. you didn't drop your glass. Slowly, as if in a dream, you knelt before the sofa. Your shadow fell across his face. You reached out—not to the hero, but to your tired, perpetually late boyfriend—and your fingertips barely touched the warm cheek beneath the bruise.

"Clark," you whispered into the silence, and the word now meant twice as much. His eyelids fluttered.

[el1za-beth]

The author of the art: s1ckh34d on x

ㅤ

Kim Kardashian herself was jealous of those natural juicy lips

ㅤ

ㅤ

[el1za-beth]

Daniel's (Daniil) childhood headcanons

based on the events of the beta version

WR:punishments, beating

Daniel definitely has some kind of diary, an old notebook with a peeling cover, where he sometimes scribbles about his future partner, his thoughts, Bible passages and quotes His flow is disjointed; he writes not in the lines but outside them. But he writes correctly, in italics.

His grandfather forced Daniil to read a lot of classics and the Bible as a child, several hours every evening, and also forced him to write beautifully. If Daniil wrote in notebooks not very neat during lessons at school, he was punished, put in the corner, made to kneel on buckwheat or dry peas (oh, my Slavic childhood), or they simply used a belt.

But when Daniel grew up and no one controlled his handwriting, he stopped caring about it and his handwriting became "Dirty Darren font"

Daniel's grandmother was not as strict as his grandfather, she loved her grandson very much and often pampered him. He helped her prepare some baked goods, or helped cut up the meat from a recently slaughtered cow, he never tired of helping his grandmother, he knew that his grandparents had health problems, because they were not so young, he silently carried out their orders and requests

Since childhood, he always brushes his teeth with more force than necessary, he brushes his teeth until his gums bleed.

Daniel's grandfather may have been strict, but he doted on his grandson, his only grandson. Of course, he loved him, but he was just cold-blooded and treated family as something proper and natural. He took Daniel hunting, taught him how to slaughter animals, took him to work at the sawmill to help, and built a new barn with him (in which Daniel once will locked you up).

They'd hammered into his head their beliefs that only a man and a woman could be together, that they were obligated to marry and have a child. Daniel had no questions about any of this; he believed that everything was truly as it should be. When his grandparents took him to church on Sundays, he'd sit silently at the edge of the pew and listen to the priest, trying to catch every word, but his thoughts were constantly wandering.

When doctors examined Daniel and discovered he had some kind of mental illness, his grandparents flatly refused treatment, saying it was all nonsense and that their boy was healthy. Daniel never learned of his diagnosis.

He was heavily overfed from childhood and all of this went into Daniel's height and muscle, not fat. Combining this with working on a farm, carrying heavy bags and the like, he easily gained muscle mass and by the age of 14 he was the tallest and biggest guy in the class (I wouldn't want to play dodgeball with him).

His PE teacher tried to get Daniel interested in rugby, but it was unsuccessful; he preferred to spend time on the farm and at home.

Daniel always sat in the back rows of desks in class, was quiet, and had no friends at school. He might have talked to a couple of people, but he wasn't friends with anyone. His school life was monotonous. He had a good grade point average, he wasn't involved in any clubs. He didn't hang out after school, just went straight home.

One day, a new kid in class said something rather offensive about Daniel's grandparents, trying to gain some cheap credibility among his classmates. He didn't expect to receive a powerful punch to the face a few seconds later. The boy fell to the floor, Daniel didn't back down and sat on the boy's stomach, continuing to punch him in the face until the teachers ran up. Three of teachers had to drag him away. Daniel knocked out several of the boy's teeth, which no one later found on the floor (Danya kept them for himself), and broke the bridge of the boy's nose and jaw.

[el1za-beth]

ʀ ᴜ ᴍɪɴᴇ? °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

summary:

author note:It looked better in my mind… I plan to write several parts, this part is more of an introduction to the story, smth like the reader's first meet with Superman and Clark.

F!reader x Clark Kent (superman 2025)

wr: masturbation,fluff, first meet, harassment from your boss

i'll delete it in a week idk

1 part| 2 part

You entered a difficult period in your life with the onset of autumn, and it seemed like the bad streak in your life would never end. Eternal rain, constant reprimands from your boss and harassment from him, your lessor raised the rent, and everything in this world seemed against you.

At 17, you ran away from your parents' house, telling your family that you can't live in a small town with no prospects anymore, that it was stifling you, and that you wanted to thrive in a big city. When you arrived in Metropolis, you thought that you will immediately find a good job, live in a big skyscraper, and return home saying, "I told you I could do it."

But here you are, living in a crappy three-story apartment building, working for several years as a waitress in a diner, where your pervert boss harasses you.

One night, as you were finishing your last hour at the diner, a man walked in, tall, with glasses, wearing a business suit that looked a little ridiculous on him, his black hair was wet from the pouring rain outside the window, he sat down at the table, putting his bag on the floor near his feet and picked up the menu lying on the table.

You dried your hands on the towel, watching the man before throwing it over your shoulder and walking up to him, taking out a notepad and pen from the pocket of your tattered yellow apron.

"Hello, can I take your order?"

The man suddenly raised his head, looking around as if he thought you were talking to someone else… in an empty cafe. Before returning his gaze to you.

"Oh, uh, yes. Can i get uhh mint tea, burger, and this carrot salad and... a slice of cherry pie, thank you." He gave you a dimpled smile that seemed like it could dispel all the clouds and make the sun shine brighter.

You wrote down his order with a nod and handed the piece of paper to the cook in the kitchen. While the food was cooking, you went back out into the main dining room, wiping down tables and feigning a busy appearance, to watch this last customer.

Clark sat at the table and looked out the window, watching the drops of water trickle down the glass, people hurrying past, cars driving past. He looked thoughtful and even mysterious… You stared at his side face, his strong jaw, his long eyelashes covering aquamarine eyes behind his glasses… You were brought out of your thoughts by a signal from the kitchen that the order was ready. You took the tray and went to the table, placing it in front of Clark.

He turned to you and gave you that smile again. "Thank you. It looks really good."

Clark quickly ate his dinner and paid the bill, leaving you a generous tip. You were hoping to see a piece of paper with his number on it, but nope. Just the bill and a tip. Still not bad.

After finishing your shift, you took your jacket off the hanger and put it on; the rest of the workers had already gone home. Your boss emerged from his office, a predatory smile appearing on his face when he noticed you.

Your boss was a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, with unkempt facial hair, a couple of grease stains on his shirt, and a wedding ring on his left hand. He hit on all the women at work, especially you. He made inappropriate comments, sometimes even slapped your butt. You tolerated it all. Of course, you wanted to throw a couple of plates at him and cut him with shards of glass, but you held back. You needed a job. You tried to find another one, submitted your resume to other places of work, but without a proper education, no one would hire you.

When you heard your boss's door creak behind you, you quickly ran out of the cafe into the pouring rain, not wanting to ruin your mood further by talking to him. He didn't even have time to say a word as he saw the door slam behind you.

Your clothes were completely soaked by the time you reached your building, and your hood didn't protect your hair or makeup from the rain either. You walked up to your floor and inserted the key into the door, pushing it open and stepping inside, turning on the light.

You sighed with relief when you locked the door, finally, no one was bothering you. After removing your clothes and throwing them in the washing machine, you stepped into the shower and turned on the water, wincing slightly at the cold, gradually warming water. You washed your hair and body with your favorite jasmine-scented products. It reminded you of your grandmother, the only one in your family who actually listened to you. She died of cancer a year before you ran away from home.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapped yourself in a robe, made yourself some tea, and plopped down on your bed. The sheets smelled fresh and cold. You took a sip of hot mint tea and set it on the nightstand, leaning back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. The mint tea reminded you of the last customer at the cafe today, that tall man whose name you never learned. Why were you thinking about him again? He was just an ordinary office worker from Daily Planet, people who worked there regularly came to your cafe, so he wasn't anything special…

But why did the thought of this guy make you feel so uncomfortable between your legs?

You groaned, picked up your laptop from the floor, placed it on the bed, and put on your headphones, playing the first porn you came across, just for background noise. It's probably unethical to masturbate while thinking about a man whose name you don't even know, but right now you can't help yourself.

Your hand slid between your legs, starting to caress yourself, you close your eyes, images of how this man caresses you with his fingers, or eat you out you, still with those stupid glasses on, purring silly things in your ear, flashed in front your eyes. The pleasure overtook you faster than usual, you fell back against the pillow, your cheeks flushed red, heat ran down the back of your neck and your breathing slowed. But this man never left your thoughts.

If this man comes to the cafe again, you will be obliged to find out his number; maybe he is single.

The next morning, you rushed to get ready for work, brushing your teeth and pulling on jeans. You found a clean T-shirt and pulled it on, tying your hair into a ponytail.

Today, the traffic was horrific; cars were just standing in the road honking, and some people were running out of their cars. Something was wrong. It was normal in the metropolis to get monsters and aliens every three to four days, as if the city were a magnet.

A loud crunch and the sound of creaking metal echoed above you. A couple of the upper floors simply tore off, as if from the vibrations, and large chunks of concrete and shards of glass began falling right on you. You didn't even have time to react. You were already mentally preparing yourself for the meeting with God and your grandmother, when suddenly a pair of arms grabbed you, pressing you to a strong chest. You opened your eyes slightly, and blue and red colors flashed before them. The fabric clinging to the man's biceps you were holding onto was pleasant, if unusual.

You didn't have time to look around before your feet touched the ground of the park. You looked at your savior, obviously already knowing who it was.

Superman looked up, toward the danger, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, his jaw clenched. The Justice gang taking on the monster so he had a couple of minutes for a short break. Superman exhaled heavily and finally turned to you with a tired smile. "Are you okay? I know. I know. Just breathe deeply and don't worry..."

Only at that moment did you realize that your jaw had dropped, you closed your mouth but continued to stare at the man. This was the first time you saw Superman in person and not on the news.

Your eyes met his, he looked at you a little more closely. He recognized you, of course he did, the girl from the cafe where he'd had dinner last night, his hand on your lower back pulled you a little closer, just a little.

He looked around, making sure you were safe, winked at you with a slight grin, and then soared into the air to save other people who needed his protection.

You remained standing in the park, which was a couple of blocks from your work, but you had no desire to work today. You wondered if you would be scolded for skipping work if you said that you almost died this morning and needed time to process it? Most likely.

You had no choice but to walk to your place of work, occasionally glancing up, hoping to see your hero of the day flying through the sky.