✨I told the stars about you ✨

Mimi | 25 | she/her | let's just say I have a hobby and it's reading

[3racha-agustd]

Every morning I open Tumblr like it's the newspaper, searching for fanfiction.

[asliceofoceanmist]

so glad bts won the world cup yay yippeee

[poutyniall]

shut up 😭

[acourtofthought]

Why did Sarah write Rhys hiding Feyre's pregnancy the way she did?"

Sarah hated being pregnant, it was traumatic for her. Constant tests and appointments, having to only be allowed to gain a certain amount of weight, her son was born in an emergency c-section, had people shame her for taking drugs during delivery. She was told to eat by one doctor to prepare for delivery then had another doctor yell at her for eating once she had to have c-section. Josh wasn't allowed in operating room with her, was shaking with terror, doctors ignored her. Med school intern was the only one who helped her with her nerves then the surgeon messed up the incision he made. It took her awhile to even want to have a second kid.

Feyre's story was Sarah's own way of processing her "shit" from her experience. Sarah's fears became Rhys's fear. The fear, the trauma, writing that allowed Sarah to get it out of her system and processing it.

She later says that while Rhys should have told her she does understand why he was also going through his own things and he will make mistakes.

[anonymousdandelion]

The thing about Rory (besides being generally great) is, he’s a nurse. and literally the first scene we see of him he is having his — extremely real and serious and legitimate! — concerns brushed off by a doctor.

…so no wonder Rory is such a good counterbalance to Amy’s near-worship in his dynamic with the Doctor.

Not only is he inoculated by experience against any tendency to glorification, he’s also probably very used to calling doctors out and being disregarded… and still trying anyway, because integrity demands it, and staying around to do his part even when nobody will listen to him, and trying again next time.

He’s exceptionally qualified to be the companion who actually recognizes and honestly calls out the Doctor’s BS, and he does it, and have I mentioned that Rory is great?!?

[dierdre-despair-and-destiny]

I feel like fanfic is dead.

No one writes anything but smut, and when they do write something else, it's missing soul, or it's short, or it's OOC.

And SO many Fandoms are dead. Idk what's going on,

Are people reading somewhere else, because Wattpad, Tumblr, and AO3 are dead too?

And AI is EVERYWHERE

I don't know what to do, I can not live without my stories! I'm being so serious, life really sucks rn and I need to live another life in the fiction world and I can't.

[savedenji]

once the fanfics for these two start being published, it's going to be INSANE

i cant wait 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[the-winchester-pie]

Moose and Mouse

Request: Can I have one where reader and Sam are dating and the reader is really short and he’s really protective on hunts and like super cute and fluffy.

Author: Dee

A/N:  Not a Christmas one, I know and I’m sorry! This request has been in our inbox for FOREVER, figured it was time time start on some of our older ones. 

You trudged in to the kitchen after only three hours of sleep, you’d been working on a particularly tough hunt involving a long trail of missing people, and a shit ton of vamps. Which meant you were up until the early hours of the morning reading over your notes and flipping through every book in the bunker that mentioned the creature. Normally you’d find out what it was, where it was, track it down, and gank it, but somehow this case was different. The vamps had been taking children from different playgrounds throughout the state, but the amount of children and the small amount of time between the kidnappings, which were towns appart, made it nearly impossible for them all to be the same monster. You suspected a nest of at least fity vamps scattered throughout the country. It was huge and the three of you had never dealt with anything like this. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” Dean chuckled as he moved around the kitchen making coffee, and a breakfast that consisted of undercooked eggs and burnt bacon. “You hungry?”

“I’ll pass, I’d rather not get food poisoning.” You moved to the cubboard to grab out the peanut butter, which of course had been placed on the top shelf. “Damn it.” You mumbled and went to get a chair.

“I’ve got it.” Sam reached up, easily grabbing the jar. “Here you go Mouse,” he smiled down out you, giving you a quick kiss and handing you the jar.

“Whatever moose,” you replied, smiling back up at him.

You were very aware of your height, and you were very aware that standing at only 5'1, you were short. It didn’t help that your boyfriend, Sam was a constant reminder of this. The younger Winchester, stood a good 6'4 so in comparisson to you, scratch that, in comparisson to everyone he was like a moose.

“Oh get a room you two.” Dean muttered. “Or, you know if you’d like to help me do our job, we could go over the information we’ve got on these sons a bitches.”

You grabbed your laptop and a bowl of popcorn and plopped down on the couch beside Sam. “Ok, so this is obviously a nest of vamps, we know that for a fact. I also know there’s at least ten in Colorado, which is the largest group through out the states so far.”

“So were headed to Colorado then?” Dean asked, unamused.

“Colorado it is.” You said as you tossed a peice of popcorn in Sam’s direction, who had tuned out of the conversation almost completely.

…………………………………………………………………

The Impala slowed to a stop as you pulled up to the newest seedy hotel you’d be staying at. The sign at the front of then building was blown and old leaves and bird’s nests were jammed in behind the words KINGS SUITE. If you had any words to describe the hotel, they would have nothing to do with kings or suites, but instead filthy hookers, or maybe drug dealers. Sam stepped out of the car and opened the back door for you. You smiled up at himm and grabbed your bag.

If you thought the outside of the motel was bad, with the peeling paint, and broken gutters, the inside was even worse. Mystery stains on the bedding, which clearly hadn’t been washed propperly. Some sort of plant growing out of the bathroom floor, and what you thought to be a rat’s nest in the closet.

“This place is horrible,” Dean grumbled as he assembled all of his weapons.

“Yeah, it’s not the best-” You began.

“Not the best? It’s a shit hole!”

“Yeah well it’s under the radar and out of the way, so it’s the best we’ve got.” Sam interupted you and Dean as he set the bags of newly bought groceries down on an old, rickety table that sat towards the side of the room.

“Whatever. I think it’s time we try to get some shut eye, considering none of us have slept a wink in the past twenty four hours.”

“Agreed,” you replied.

“So how are we gonna do the beds?” Dean asked. “You’ll probably want to share one with me,” he stated gesturing to you. “Unless that is, you want to be cuddled to death.” Sam went full on bitch face and you stifled a laugh.

“Yeah I’m gonna pass,” you smiled at Sam. “I’d rather have my Moose.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Watch out for the bed bugs though, they’re vicious little dicks.”

…………………………………………………………………………….

After four hours of sleep on the most uncomfortable bed you’d ever slept on, which was a record, you were back in the car again headed to a small town named Sawpit.

“Ok, so when we get there, you stay behind me.” Sam told you.

“But-” you interjected.

“Look, Y/N it was a hard enough decision to begin with, the only reason you’re here in the first place is because we need you.” Sam interupted. You glared at the boys, mustering the best bitch face you could.

“Hey, I was all for our little mouse coming, it was mr.responsibility over here who thought other wise,” Dean said gesturing to his brother.

“Fine, fine, whatever, I’ll stay behind.”

“And go back to the car if Dean or I say?”

“Come on Sam..” You started.

“And go back to the car if Dean or I say?” Sam began to raise his voice now.

“Yeah, I will.” You replied still glaring at him.

The car pulled up to an old cabin, it was far from glamourous, but you had to admit it was better than your hotel. The three of you stepped on to the ground, which crunched under your feet from the morning frost.

“So we go through the front door?” You asked in a hushed tone

“Well, I am,” Dean replied. “You two go around the back, see if there isn’t another door, or a window.”

“Or, we could split up, cover more ground, get through the nest quicker.” You stated bluntly, unamused at how everyone wanted to protect you instead of treating you like another hunter.

“No way I’m leaving you alone, you’re coming with me.” Sam stated. you rolled your eyes, but followed him around the back of the cabin.

“Why can’t you just let me help out, instead of treating me like a child?” You asked as loud as you could, while still whispering.

Sam whiped around to face you. “Listen, Y/N, you don’t understand. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Why?”

“You know why, because I love you Y/N.”

You stopped trying to argue, and throught back to the past month you had been dating Sam. He had never told you he loved you. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to get attached to anyone, or maybe it was because he knew the average life span of the girls he fell for, but either way he was saying it now and that meant the world to you.

“I love you too Sammy,” you smiled up at him and stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach his lips. He grinned back at you and lifted you off the ground, letting your lips connect with his. As you pulled back he nearly dropped you.

“Y/N, run, now!” He yelled as he pushed you towards the car. You ducked under the arm of a vampire only about five feet away. You turned back, only to see two more join the attack on Sam. “Go!” Sam continued shouting to you.

You spritnted, your legs carrying you faster than they ever had before, but just as the Impala was in your line of sight, you stopped. Why did you always listen when they told you what to do? Before you realised what you were doing, you pulled out your machette, and ran in the other direction. Sam stood, surrounded by five vamps, you watched him as he took down two, which were replaced by two more in seconds.

By the time you got to him he was pinned on the ground, still surrounded. You took three out, one after another. Two left, and where the hell was Dean? You took out the vamp on sam, one left. Sam stood shakily. You attempted to decapitate the last of the five, but he was too fast. He picked you up by your arms and threw you straight through the windown, on to the dirty wooden floor of the cabin. The last thing you saw was the crooked, moldy ceiling and then you blacked out.

You woke to a stinging sensation. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you saw the face of a female vamp who looked to be in her mid fourties. You had a rope around your waist that bound you to a pillar in what you belived to be the basement of the cabin. Your arms wer tied to two posts on either side of you, where two bowls sat underneath your hands. That’s when you realised what the stinging sensation had come from, two deep slits had been engraved in each of your wrists.

“Why am I tied up?” You asked weakly.

“Well, I’m draining your blood hun.” The woman looked down at you.

“Why though, why not just eat me while you can?”

“We’ve been a bit low on food lately, you know how it is, survival of the fittest. There used to be so many of us, but you mangey hunters screwed have of our kind to purgatory.” You looked to your side, there was a large amount of your blood in the containers, and you were beginning to feel extremely light headed.

“So sorry,” you nearly growled it at her.

“I don’t need your false pitty, I need your blood. "She dipped her finger into one of the jars and stuck it in her mouth. "You have no idea what it’s like to be starving, and have a perfectly good meal roght infront of you.” She smiled down at you, and you smiled right back.“What are you so happy about?”

“My moose,” you whispered as you saw Sam raise his machette to the vamps neck, and then you saw nothing but black.

……………………………………………………………………….

You awoke to the sound of beeps, and the well known itch of bandages. Your vision was a bit blurry and your head hurt like a bitch, but it was a step up from being knocked out and tied to a post. Sam’s hand held your left, engulfing completely in warmth. He sat, asleep in the chair next to your bed, while Dean stared blankly in the chair by the door.

“Hey,” Dean grinned at you, and you grinned right back at him. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty.” You laughed quietly at what had become his tradition if you slept in late. What time was it any way. “It’s seven PM,” he said, answering your thoughts. “You slept through a whole day.”

You felt Sam shift beside you, and then your Moose’s eyes opened. “Your awake!”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, but before you could say anything else his lips collided with yours.

“I’ll, be, um, outside if you need me,” Dean inturupted. You gave Dean a quick wave, and then turned Sam.

“You have no idea what i would do without you Mouse.” You were surprised how nice he was being after disobeying his orders.

“So you’re not going to yell at me?”

“You just woke up, your head probably feels like we took a hammer to it, and we’re in the middle of a hospital. So, nah, I’ll save it ‘till we get home.” You laughed, which turned in to a cough. A shiver went down your body. “You cold?”

“Yeah a bit.”

“Scooch then,” Sam said as he slid in to the bed beside you, and you drifted to sleep once again, this time in the arms of your moose.

[rainedravens]

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[penny-anna]

Speaking of, the idea of the doctor being self aware regarding the power dynamic between themself and their companions is honestly very funny to me. Like ok I'm in a position of power over this person for various reasons so I will NOT pursue a romantic relationship with them on ethical grounds 😇 we will simply have a bizarre co-dependent pseudo-romantic friendship that will alter the course of their entire life instead

[rawjutsu-deactivated20260805]

next door's lemonade

pairing: dilf!clark kent x fem reader

summary: clark kent’s a mild-mannered single dad, but when you decide to turn up the heat, things get messy—literally. three easy steps to seduce your unlikely crush, plus one totally unexpected meltdown. chaos, flustered kisses, and way too much dad energy guaranteed.

cw: age gap, domestic thirst, 40 yr old single dad clark, i had mid 20s reader in mind but it's up to you, soft-spoken filth, oral (f!receiving), pet names, overstimulation, size kink, thigh riding, praise, piv smut, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, 3k wc mdni

you’re convinced clark kent was god’s personal apology to women for everything else men have done.

he’s quiet, polite, and always has that bashful little smile when he sees you. when he walks his daughter to the bus stop every morning, your heart does that stupid flutter thing—but worse than that, your uterus practically weeps. her pigtails are always slightly crooked, like he tried his best and she wouldn’t sit still, and the sight alone makes you want to hand in your iud and volunteer as tribute.

but clark? clark’s completely unaware of the chaos he causes. or so you thought.

you’d always exchanged casual greetings—him with his chipper “morning” and you with a smile that bordered on horny—but nothing past that. until one day, standing outside your front door, key half in the lock, you catch sight of him in his front yard.

his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, hands deep in the flower bed. his shirt clings to his back in all the right places. biceps flex. forearms strain. there's a smudge of dirt on his jaw.

he looks up. catches you staring.

you freeze.

he waves. smiles. it’s boyish. innocent. cruel.

you scramble inside like you just saw god himself—because, honestly, you might’ve.

and that’s when it hits you: this man will not realize you want him unless you physically spell it out. and even then, there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll think you’re just being neighborly.

fine.

you can be aggressively neighborly, because one way or another, you are going to get into clark kent’s dad pants if it’s the last thing you do.

step one: bait the child

you “accidentally” bake too many muffins. double batch. how clumsy of you.

“these? oh no, i can’t eat them all. would your daughter like some?”

she comes over giggling and thanks you every time, bouncing with excitement. and when she beams up at clark and says, “daddy, she made blueberry again!”—your heart squeezes in your chest and your pussy clenches right after from the goofy smile he gives you, muffin crumbs on his lip.

step two: damsel in distress

you wave him over one hot afternoon. “mr. kent! my ac unit’s being dumb again. it’s so confusing. would you mind taking a look?”

he spends twenty minutes crouched down fiddling with it, sweat glistening along his hairline, shirt riding up in the back, glasses slipping down his nose. you pretend not to stare. you fail. miserably. he turns back, flustered. “it was just the filter. uh—real easy fix.”

“still, thanks,” you say, handing him a cold, homemade lemonade. “you’re such a good neighbor.”

his ears turn red. he mumbles, “a-and you can just call me clark, you know. ‘mr. kent’ makes me sound like… my dad.” his laugh is self-conscious, cheeks pink as he glances at you and quickly looks away.

god, how can a 40-year-old dad be so fucking hot and so stupidly cute at the same time?

“sure thing, clark.” you purr. he blinks twice like his brain just blue-screened.

step three: verbal homicide

today’s the day.

you and clark are sitting on your front porch. he’s sipping the lemonade you made. his daughter’s across the lawn, playing with chalk on the driveway. you watch her draw a lopsided sun with a smiley face.

“she’s amazing,” you say softly. clark beams with quiet pride. “next woman in your life’s gonna be real lucky to have your baby.”

he chokes.

full on, hand-on-chest, coughing fit.

you innocently pat his back, wide-eyed. “oh no, clark! you okay?”

“w-wow, that’s… uh… that’s quite a thing to say,” he manages, voice an octave higher. his ears are red. “i mean—thank you, that’s… that’s kind. she’s, uh… she’s my whole world.” he glances away again, adjusting his glasses like they’re suddenly the most interesting thing on earth.

you blink at him all doe-eyed. “i just meant—anyone would be lucky. you’re an amazing dad. sweet. strong. gentle. built like a truck.”

his jaw tightens.

you bite your straw.

he gulps.

it’s so over for him. 

step four: reap the rewards

you wait until his daughter gets picked up for a sleepover before making your move.

it’s storming. your lights flicker. and right as scheduled, you're knocking on his door.

“power out?” he asks softly.

“yeah,” you say. “can i wait it out in here?”

he hesitates. then nods. “of course, it's no bother.”

you smile sweetly as he lets you in.

both of you are sitting on his couch now. clark’s all stiff and awkward. his glasses fog slightly every time he exhales.

your legs are in his lap.

he’s definitely pretending not to look at them.

he’s not touching you, not really, but his hand’s resting near your calf and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. his eyes flicker down to your thighs again—just for a second.

then he mumbles, “you’re, uh… you’re real young.”

you blink innocently. “too young for what?”

he opens his mouth. closes it. flusters.

you lean in.

he doesn’t stop you.

you touch his cheek, soft and slow, and whisper, “you’ve been such a good neighbor to me, clark. such a gentleman.”

he swallows again. you’re starting to love how often you make him do that.

then you murmur, “you wanna keep bein’ a gentleman, or can i show you how long i’ve been thinking about your hands?”

you start to climb into his lap and his breath catches.

“i don’t think—i mean, this probably isn’t—” he cuts himself off when you fully settle in his lap. his hands hover near your waist but don’t quite touch. “i’m—i’m not exactly good at this sort of thing,” he says quietly, eyes darting everywhere except your face. “you think i don’t notice when you look?” you murmur. he swallows. “i—well. i try not to.” “that’s cute.”  you lean forward. “wanna try failing a little harder?”

then you grind down.

he jerks beneath you.

his hands fly to your waist—but he doesn’t stop you.

“been thinking about this forever,” you whisper against his neck. “thought about riding your thigh just to see if you’d notice.”

his chest rumbles. “i noticed.”

you shiver.

“then why didn’t you do anything?”

he exhales shakily. “i’m not supposed to want you like this.”

you whimper. “but you do.”

“yes,” he admits, breathless. “god help me, i do.”

you start grinding against his thigh, desperate, sticky, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

he’s hard. thick and long and straining against his pants.

his hands move to your hips. help you rock. guide you through it like it’s killing him.

you whimper when your clit drags against the firm muscle of his thigh.

“oh my god—fuck—”

he stiffens. “don’t say that. don’t curse.”

you blink, dazed. “you don’t like it?”

he looks almost pained. “i just—i don’t use that kind of language, and i don’t like hearin’ it on your pretty mouth. not when you’ve got so many sweeter things to say.”

you blink.

then you grind harder.

“you’re unreal,” you pant, high on power. “clark, i swear—your thigh—i’m gonna cum just like this, i can’t—”

his breath comes fast.

“you wanna come on my thigh, darlin’?” his voice is low, but there’s that shy hitch in it, like he’s almost embarrassed to say it out loud. “go ahead. make a mess, it’s alright—i’ll take care of it.”

your whole body shudders at the warmth in his tone.

“yeah?” he murmurs, glancing down at where you’re pressed against him. “you gonna–uh, soak right through these shorts for me?”

you nod frantically.

“pretty girl,” he breathes, thumb brushing your cheek in a gentle, almost hesitant touch. “you’ve been actin’ so sweet lately, real flirty. but– you’re not a bad girl, right?”

“i’m such a slut,” you whisper, breath hitching.

clark sits back just slightly, blinking hard. “hey—hey, now. don’t say that.”

“why not?”

his brows pinch. “’cause that’s not… that’s not what this is. you’re not—i mean, you’re just…”

he looks flustered. desperate to explain. “you’re sweet. and—and good. and i’m probably too old and really not good at this anymore, but—”

you pull him back in by the collar.

“clark,” you whisper. “shut up and keep ruining me.”

“yes ma’am,” he mutters again, voice cracking.

you’re whimpering into his neck, panting like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

your clit is throbbing. his thigh is slick. and he’s so still underneath you, chest heaving with every shaky breath, eyes fixed on where your soaked sleep shorts have turned nearly translucent against his skin.

“clark—i’m gonna—”

“go on, honey,” he breathes. “i’ve got you”

your head drops against his shoulder. you cry out—soft, desperate, overwhelmed—and he shudders beneath you when your body locks up and twitches in his lap.

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, a little bashful. “such a good girl for me.”

you’re trembling. sensitive. overstimulated. and yet—

you still want more.

you roll your hips again, chasing that high, gasping when it stings a little but still feels so good.

he freezes, swallowing hard. his voice gets all tight and breathy.

“don’t… don’t do that.”

“why?”

he bites his lip, voice cracking just a little.

“’cause if you keep goin’, i’m not gonna be able to stop… and, uh, that’d be a problem.”

your eyes flutter open.

your lips part.

yes, you think. finally.

“then don’t stop,” you whisper. “please. i want it. i want you.”

he groans—actually groans, like you just kicked the legs out from under his self-control—and then suddenly you’re on your back, clark looming over you, so much bigger than you imagined.

his broad shoulders block out the lamp behind him. his hand cups the back of your knee, spreading your legs gently but firmly, as if he’s trying to be respectful even now.

you’re soaked.

he stares down at your flushed body and breathes, “you look like temptation itself.”

he sinks to his knees at the edge of the couch like you’re holy.

like he’s praying.

your breath catches when he pushes your thighs apart, pulling down your small shorts and panties, pressing a soft, warm kiss to your inner thigh. then another, higher. and another, closer to where you need him.

he looks up at you once, eyes dark, lips parted.

“i haven’t… done this in a while,” he confesses. “i hope i don’t mess it up.”

“you wont,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

he smiles. soft and sweet. “okay, baby.”

then he leans in and devours you.

his mouth is warm. firm. so, so thorough. he kisses you like it’s a love language, like it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never thought he’d get to. he eats like a man starved—slow at first, reverent, dragging his tongue through your folds until you’re squirming—and then deeper, rougher, gripping your thighs tight as he licks into you like he’s memorizing the shape of your pussy with his tongue.

you moan. loud. unrestrained.

“oh wow,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to blink up at you, dazed. “you—you taste like—uh—like sugar? or lemonade? is that weird to say?”

you giggle, breath hitching when his tongue darts out to lick a slow stripe through your folds again.

“you can say whatever you want as long as you keep doing that.”

“okay,” he mumbles, immediately diving back in, muffling a sheepish, “yes ma’am” against your cunt like the respectful farm boy he is.

you whimper.

he laps at you again, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit in one long, messy stroke.

you arch off the couch. cry out. your second orgasm hits harder than the first—shaking your legs, making you grab for him, thighs clenching around his head.

he doesn’t stop.

god, he doesn’t stop.

he sucks your clit right through it, tongue flicking, mouth hot and wet and everywhere, and suddenly you’re crying—hands fisting in his hair, tears streaming down your cheeks.

and clark—sweet, soft clark—he pulls back just enough to kiss your thigh and murmur, “you cryin’, darlin’? oh, honey. did i go too hard?”

you sob. “n-no—feels so good—i just—”

he kisses you again. this time, between your legs. slow. gentle. sinful.

then he presses a kiss to your hip and asks, sweet and red-faced, “may i…?”

you nod. “please.”

he pulls out a little foil packet from his wallet.

“you had that ready?” you tease.

he blushes so hard you think he might die. “i—just in case. not that i assumed—i didn’t! i just… hoped.” you bite your lip, voice soft but steady. “i appreciate the gesture, but i wanna feel you, clark.”

clark blinks fast, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish before he fumbles, setting the condom aside like he’s a little caught off guard.

you giggle.

and then he unbuttons his pants.

you don’t even get to see him pull it out. you just feel the weight of it as he presses the head against your inner thigh, and even that makes you twitch.

“you sure about this?” he asks, voice tight, breathless.

you nod, voice shaking. “please. want it so bad.”

he leans over you. presses his forehead to yours.

his cock nudges your entrance.

thick. heavy. he’s holding back like he’s scared of breaking you.

he’s so careful when he pushes in. you’re so tight around him he actually groans.

“oh, sweetheart. i’m—i’m sorry, i’ll go slow—”

you nod.

he bottoms out.

his hands tremble when you look up at him. flushed. full.

your hands clutch his shoulders as your body stretches around him. you feel every inch. every pulse. he’s groaning—groaning, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he sinks deeper and deeper.

“feels like heaven,” he chokes. “tight little thing—s’like you were made for me.”

you nod, trembling. you feel so full—like your body had just been waiting for this, built for this, desperate to be filled up by a man with hands big enough to lift you and a voice soft enough to break you.

stays there.

“you okay?” he asks, voice almost shaking.

you nod, tears still on your cheeks.

“clark—i need you to move.”

and when he does?

it’s over.

he breaks you down slowly, tenderly, thrust by deep thrust.

he kisses your tears away.

he calls you his sweetheart.

he thrusts deep, still trying to be gentle.

“feels like i’m dreamin’, sweetheart,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck. “i can’t believe this is real.”

you gasp. your walls clench. he whimpers.

he whimpers.

his forehead is pressed to yours. one of his huge hands is cradling the back of your neck. the other is splayed low on your stomach like he’s trying to feel himself from the outside, to make sense of how snug you are, how perfectly your body takes him.

“can feel it, sweetheart,” he pants softly. “you’re squeezin’ me so good. like you don’t wanna let me go.”

you don’t.

you never want him to stop.

you’re crying now, wrecked and wet and shaking, each drag of his cock against your walls sending little shocks of heat straight to your toes.

he murmurs against your skin, “is that too much, baby? you need me to slow down?”

you sob out a broken, “no, please don’t stop—feels so good—clark, please—”

he hushes you softly, lips brushing your temple. “i got you, honey. i know.”

you swear you can feel him twitching inside you, the stretch just bordering on overwhelming—so thick and deep and gentle, like he wants to ruin you but only if you’ll let him.

and you will.

you want to.

you want to feel him lose it. you want to feel him fall apart.

“i wanna make a mess in you,” he confesses, voice cracking just a little, breath heavy. “wanna fill you up good. is that okay?”

you moan. nod frantically. “yes—please—please—”

his thrusts get a little rougher. still slow. still deep. but heavier now, driven by the desperation he’s clearly been holding back this whole time.

“clark—”

and then he kisses you.

not just a press of lips—a real, messy, breathless kiss, mouths open, tongues grazing, teeth clashing a little when he finally ruts deep and stays there, cock pulsing hard inside you as he cums.

you feel it—hot and thick and endless, like his whole body’s pouring into you.

you gasp against his mouth. twitch. your walls flutter around him.

he groans through his orgasm, lips brushing your cheek. “that’s it, baby—take it. take all of it, you’re doin’ so good—”

he stays there.

buried inside.

not moving, not pulling out, just breathing hard and holding you like you might float away if he lets go. you’re both sweaty and sticky and breathless, and your thighs are quivering, but his arms never stop holding you.

you don’t know how much time passes.

just that eventually, you feel his hands—big and warm and careful—slide beneath your thighs as he lifts you gently into his arms.

“where are we going?” you whisper, voice small and dazed.

he chuckles softly. “bed.”

“you want me to stay?”

he kisses your forehead. “if you’ll have me.”

(you will.)

he helps you clean up. tucks you in. finds one of his old flannel shirts for you to wear—big enough that it hits mid-thigh.

you’re curled up in his lap again—except this time, under the covers. his hands are stroking your back slowly. steady. reassuring.

you murmur, “was it weird? being with someone younger?”

he blushes a bright red.

“felt right to be with you.”

you go quiet.

then: “i think i wanna be a stay-at-home wife.”

he laughs—bright, full, happy—and kisses the top of your head.

“yeah?” he murmurs. “that why you keep bakin’ cookies for my daughter and flirtin’ with me?”

“…yes.”

he smiles against your hair. “well. if you’re serious about it, honey—”

he kisses your temple.

“—we can talk about it over breakfast.”

“you’re makin’ me breakfast?”

“of course,” he says, brushing your hair off your cheek. “you like bacon? i make ‘em good. you can show me how you make that lemonade."

and maybe—just maybe—he makes you a baby too.

but that’s for next time :3 a/n: still haven't watched superman. this was supposed to be a request and i got very carried away...

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

[whatkindofnameisella]

can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

[katestewartt]

"I used to know your grandad, Wilf. I loved that man."

[oddinary4bts]

Life Goes On | Masterpost

Here is a collection of fanfics that all take place in the same universe, with all the members falling in love one after the other.

☆summary:  Being the biggest boy band in the world can make it hard to find love. But in time, everyone finds the one that they were meant to find, the person that was forever theirs to begin with. Even the Bangtan boys aren’t an exception to that most simple rule of the universe, as they fall in love in the most unexpected places

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: snippets of life, idol!au

Keep reading

[ziyuanyuan1113]

Some thoughts on what could have happened had Geto called Gojo or Shoko after finding Nanako and Mimiko

[ziyuanyuan1113]

If Shoko and Gojo had noticed Geto spiralling.

Sort of a rough continuation of the previous set of drawings on what would have happened had Geto called them.