[nottsnymph]

Sometimes the house became almost painfully quiet when Simon was away. Not the good kind of quiet, the kind that settled softly over the room and let you breathe for a while. This was different. A strange, persistent silence that felt like something was missing from the walls themselves, like the whole place had forgotten how to sound like home.

You did your best to fill it.

Books, music, little cleaning spurts that turned into reorganizing entire shelves, and, most often lately, cooking. Cooking helped. It gave your hands something to do and your mind something to focus on. It was soothing, for the most part, until you made something you knew Simon would have loved, and there was no one there to tease, taste, or steal the first bite.

Still, tonight’s recipe had gone well. The kitchen smelled warm and rich, all garlic and herbs and something sweet lingering underneath. You stood there with a plate in one hand, ready to finally serve, when you heard it.

A shuffle. Then a low groan from the front door.

Your whole body went rigid.

Simon was not supposed to be back for another week. You were alone. No guests, no deliveries, no reason for anyone to be at the door at all.

Someone was breaking in. Shit.

You went cold all at once, every lecture Simon had ever given you on self defense flashing through your mind, but panic left no room for careful thinking. You grabbed the plate tighter, your knuckles whitening around it, and moved before your brain could catch up.

The lock rattled, the door bursting open and you swung.

The plate shattered spectacularly against the head of the very tall intruder.

For one breathtaking second, you stood frozen, half expecting a stranger, a threat, anything else.

Instead, a familiar grumble filled the doorway, "Fucking hell."

Your soul left your body.

“Simon?” you gasped, throwing your hands up in horror as adrenaline shot through you so fast your fingers trembled.

He staggered inside, a duffel bag slipping from one shoulder and thudding to the floor. One hand braced against the wall, the other pressed to the side of his head.

“Are you okay?!” you gasped.

“I got smashed with a plate. What ya think?” he muttered, eyes shut tight.

“You were supposed to be back in a week!”

“Mission ended early,” he said with a pained groan.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wanted t’ surprise ya.”

You stared at him.

Then gestured wildly at the ceramic graveyard on the floor.

"That is objectively the worst possible strategy for someone who constantly tells me to be careful because of all the enemies you've made."

He gave you a flat look. “Nice. Blame the victim.”

"The victim broke into the house like a raccoon with military training."

He huffed "rude."

“Just go sit down,” you said, already ushering him toward the sofa. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He kicked off his boots with a grunt and dropped onto the couch like all the bones in his body had collectively decided to quit. By the time you returned, kit in hand, he looked tired in that deeply worn-out way that made your chest ache, guilt gnawed at you like a tiny feral creature.

"Si, I'm so sorry," you blurted the second you sat beside him. "I genuinely thought someone was breaking in and then the door opened and I panicked and my body moved before my brain did and I hit you and—"

"It's alright, swee’heart," his voice came soft, steady.

You worked carefully, cleaning the scratches on his forehead and the small cuts along his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch much, though he did keep staring at you with that quiet, warm look that always made you feel like you were the only light in the room.

“Been through a dangerous mission,” he said, “an’ get home to get clocked by me wife.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” you said, glaring at the cotton pad like it had personally offended you.

“Never said it was.”

“You are being very smug for a man who got ambushed by dinnerware.”

He huffed a laugh. “Usually wives greet their husbands with kisses and hugs. Not ceramic warfare.”

“I was trying out a new greeting method.”

He raised one brow. “Next time, how about a pan to the face?”

You let out a helpless laugh. “Shut up.”

“You hit me.”

“I thought you were breaking in!”

“Still counts as domestic violence, luv.”

You snorted despite yourself, and he looked absurdly pleased with that.

Once you finished, he leaned back into the couch with a long sigh, still horrified and still trying not to laugh at the stupidity of this entire situation. He tilted his head toward you.

“On the bright side,” he said, “I do know for certain you’re safe when I’m gone.”

[bambiiette]

been thinking too much about jack abbot with younger gf who cries at everything because she’s very sensitive: commercials, little dogs, the elderly on the street…. so when jack is balls deep in her and she can’t help but cry, he has to comfort her and he’s fucking dirty about it

crybaby with jack abbot

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - dacryphilia, penetration sex, jack calls himself daddy yeah i stand by it, fem!reader, established relationship, age gap relationship mentioned, lowkey not as dirty as i would’ve liked it to get but i felt like it was just getting too long

A/N: ohhhh my fucking god YES. you get me. also i’m sorry these requests are coming out so slow. i have so many ideas of new stories or ways to write my requests but sometimes i suck at actually sitting down and writing!! i’ll always get there eventually lmao

────────── ୨ৎ ───────────

you’re always one to cry. you hate that you are. especially when you started dating jack. he was so much older than you, much more stoic and mature. age plus the army made his maturity seem like something you could only dream of. but he was so patient with you.

so patient when you pathetically welled up at the thought of old people or dogs being put down or the life insurance ads where the family talk about what would happen if one of them died. tears would form in the corners of those pretty eyes of yours and jack would comfort you. you cried over everything. so he really shouldn’t have been surprised when everything included when he was balls deep inside you.

you're panting into his mouth, senses dulled as he continues to fuck you. his mouth crashes against yours, messily tangling his tongue with yours. you don’t know when it happened. all you remember is feeling the way jack's hips snap forward with rough, deep thrusts. his hips are ruthless as his balls smack against your ass, each thrust slapping his thighs against yours. you arch your back, nails searching his shoulders as you try to hold on for support. it’s too much, it’s all so overwhelming. you’re so overstimulated from the feeling of him deep inside you.

you felt wetness starts to gleam in your eyes, eyes shining over and your lower lip started to tremble. before you knew it, you started sobbing. fat, pretty tears streaming down your face, dampening his pillow when you turn your head to the side. you whine and blink up at jack pathetically, sniffling loudly and drool coming out of your mouth. your eyes and nose were red, lips swollen and sticky from where your tears fell down your cheeks and you caught them.

the first time you cried during sex, jack came within seconds. seeing you like that, all pliant and pleading. it got him so fucking hard. like right now. you’re looking at him through wet lashes, and your eyes glistened. his hips rut against your faster when he looks into your eyes, he’s got less control over his movements. he hits deeper inside you, your walls clenching around him.

“oh sweetheart, what’s got you all worked up, hm?” he coos at you. which makes you feel even more pathetic. you feel like a baby.

he moves one of his hands to your face, wiping your tears with his fingers. his fingers glisten and he presses them against your lips. you open up for him without hesitation, tasting the saltiness of your tears on your tongue. he pushes them deeper into your mouth to hear you gag, tears forming in your eyes again. this time because you’re trying not to choke.

“fucking you so good that you can’t speak, huh?” he says, fingers finally coming out of your mouth. it’s all too much for you. his voice, his movements, the feeling of his cock grinding against your deepest parts over and over again. globs of tears stream down your face again, sniffling dramatically as you whine loudly.

“shhh no need to cry sweetheart, daddy’s got you.”

[ghostedink]

Packed with love.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

Simon Riley was a terrifying man to most people.

Six foot somethin’, broad as a doorframe, tattooed arms, permanent frown carved into his face like stone. The kind of man who could walk into a room and make conversations die mid-sentence.

Which was exactly why the bright pink lunchbox sitting on the briefing table looked so absurd.

Soap stared at it.

Then at Simon.

Then back at the lunchbox covered in tiny white hearts.

“…That yours, LT?”

Simon didn’t even glance up from cleaning his sidearm. “Obviously.”

Gaz coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Price suddenly found the paperwork in his hands very interesting. Soap, unfortunately, feared nothing.

“Christ alive.” he muttered, lifting the lunchbox by two fingers. “It’s got a bow on it.”

Simon’s eyes lifted slowly.

Dangerously.

Soap set it back down immediately. The room went quiet for all of three seconds before Gaz spotted the sticky note attached to the handle.

Pink ink. Curly handwriting.

Don’t forget to actually eat today. I mean it!— ♡

There was even a lipstick kiss pressed onto the corner. Soap made a strangled noise. “SHE LEFT YE A WEE KISS MARK.”

Simon took the note off carefully before Soap could touch it with his grubby hands. He folded it once and tucked it into the pocket of his vest with complete seriousness, like it was something precious.

Because it was.

“You keep those?” Gaz asked before he could stop himself. Simon gave him a look that practically said watch your mouth.

“Aye.”

The boys exchanged glances.

Not because Simon had a partner. They all knew that. And not because Simon was soft with you. They knew that too. It was the fact he never acted embarrassed about it.

Ever.

Didn’t hide the matching pink phone charger you bought him because he “always stole yours anyway.” Didn’t complain when you painted tiny strawberries on his phone case. Didn’t care that his keys now had fluffy pink pompoms hanging off them because you’d smiled so proudly while showing him. The man simply accepted every little piece of you with both hands.

Like loving you loudly was the easiest thing in the world.

Later that afternoon, Simon finally opened the lunchbox during break. Inside was organized chaos. Pink Tupperware containers stacked perfectly. Heart-shaped strawberries. A sandwich cut neatly in half. Little notes tucked everywhere.

One on the drink—

Hydrate or I’ll become evil.

One on the fruit—

You’re handsome. That’s unrelated, I just thought you should know.

And one folded beneath the sandwich.

Simon opened it quietly.

Miss you already. Come home safe so I can kiss you properly instead of leaving lipstick on paper.

His eyes softened instantly.

Not dramatic.

Not obvious.

Just enough that Price noticed from across the room and looked away to give the man some privacy. Soap, however, leaned over his shoulder with zero survival instinct.

“Awwww—”

Simon shoved him back without heat.

“Piss off.”

But there was no bite to it.

Soap grinned. “Ye love that shite.”

Simon took another bite of his sandwich.

“Aye.” he answered simply.

No hesitation.

No shame.

Just certainty.

Because you loved pink things. Cute things. Soft things.

And Simon loved you.

Which meant he loved those things too.

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

A/N: I love a man who isn’t embarrassed by the things you love.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon Riley with his weird ass acts of love and bizarre concept of boundaries

You’ll be waking up confused in the middle of the night, feeling a strange pulling at your feet, only to glance down and see your boyfriend has thrown the covers off and is attempting to clip your toenails for you

“What in the actual f-”

“I’m tired o’ your talons diggin’ into my legs every nigh’. This is for both o’ us, love.” He’ll grumble in that tone of his that leaves no room for argument, only the sound of nail clippers echoing in the room as your roll your eyes before shutting them again

Every so often when you’re on your period, you’ll be stepping out of the shower, bewildered to find that the night time pad and underwear you’d set aside with your pyjamas on the bathroom counter top, have been put together for you?

“Simon- you saved me all of two steps at most? Opening the wrapper and sticking it on?”

“And you’re welcome.” He’ll mutter casually with a quick kiss to your forehead before he’s off to brush his teeth

“I’m so confused. I might be losing it, Si.” You’ll mention one time, coming home after work with bags of greasy takeout food in hand, his brow only raising in question. “This is maybe the third time now I’ve noticed that the petrol was nearing a quarter tank, so I’d plan to fill up the next day. But next time I get in the car- the tank is fucking full! The first time I thought I had dreamt it, second time I thought I was hallucinating a little bit, but now-”

“Love, I’ve been filling up your car.”

“…what?”

“That’s me. Every time I’ve heard you say you need petrol- I’ve filled up the car.” Simon shrugs as though he’s simply telling you what the weather is for today, not that he’s been sneaking out in the middle of the night with your car keys to run a quick errand for you as you sleep

“I don’t know if I want to ask how or why first.”

“Well petrol’s fuckin’ expensive now, that’s why. You don’t need to be payin’ tha’.”

“You could have just … asked me?”

“… righ’. Noted.” He’ll nod in quick agreement before moving on to take the bags from you, no intention whatsoever of changing his habits

[graywrenhart]

Simon—the military veteran who has forgotten that people can actually just move their bodies without everything hurting.

He's out with the boys at the strip club, wincing every time you swivel your hips like that to the music. Every twist and turn around the pole has his joints aching in sympathy.

He leans over to Soap. “Christ. ‘s that safe?” 

You arch against the floor, knees spread wide, and his own back locks up instinctively.

“Gonna hurt herself, doin’ all that,” he mutters, jaw clenched behind his mask.

"Now that body’s never taken a bullet, aye?” Soap laughs, clapping him on the back. "Just watch the show, L.T. She's good."

Oh, he's watching alright.

The next night, he’s back. And he keeps coming back. Only to check on you, of course. 

No other reason…

Not that you're complaining. He's your best tipper. Every time you see him he presses a few crisp twenties in your bra, muttering something about hospital bills.

[rawme-price]

No thoughts just clingy!reader who's dating ghost....

You know you're clingy, it's impossible not to when nearly every relationship you've had has sighted it for the reason to break-up. People get weirded-out by how...attached you get with your partners. No one wants to be around you all the time.

Or, that's what you thought until you met ghost.

Ghost, your beloved partner, never once tells you you're too clingy. In fact, he...enjoys it?

You're constantly touching him whenever he's close, skin itching for the warmth of his skin. You attatch to simin like a barnacle in the mornings, hand wrapped in his own while you sleeping follow his morning routine. He never once complains, even indulgently sits you on the bathroom counter so you can hug his chest while he brushes his teeth, mumbling "no' gonna fall asleep, are you lovie? Want breakfast yet?"

Or when ghost goes to base, and you feel like you're falling apart without him, he's never mad that you call. Picks up when he can with an automatic "hello, love. I miss you." Because he knows you feel embarrassed saying it first.

When you get really clingy? To the point of tears of ghost is away for too long? He never gets upset or calls you childish.

Ghost refuses to make plans for the first week of his leave because he knows you'll spend it hoarding him in a cozy bed, snuggled up and softly crying about how much you missed him before falling asleep listening to him talk.

You're never too clingy for ghost. Maybe because he's never felt loved like this before, and your clingyness is reassurance. Maybe he just needs to know you love him as much as he loves you.

[burgundysnow]

Always second guessing yourself with Simon because he’s so big n’ strong. Meanwhile you’re his sweet civilian girlfriend who has to get all your clothes in an extra large. 

Simon’s lying on top of you one day, TV on but the sound is off and you’re running your fingers through his blond locks. Just getting long enough to curl— meaning he has to go in for a haircut soon. 

“Do you want to go to the gym with me tomorrow?” 

You paused everything. Stopped scrolling on your phone, your hand ceasing its soothing pets in his hair with your heart sputtering. Does he think you need to go to the gym? Get into shape more, is that why he’s asking?

Now that you realize it, he’s thumbing over that one part of your waist where it dips. Your bare skin touching his hand suddenly feels sickening. 

“Why?” 

You ask self-consciously. You haven’t mentioned anything about getting in shape, so did he see something that just made him want you a little thinner? 

“Just because?” 

His answer only soothes your nerves the tiniest bit. He doesn’t speak like there’s an ulterior motive. But that could just be how Simon always sounds. 

“No thank you.” 

You whisper as chipper as you can. Simon makes a little noise and fuck, you knew you disappointed him. Now taking your phone and searching up diets that aren’t too noticeable right away. 

Meanwhile, it’s just been a little while since you commented on Simon’s muscles and he thought asking you to go with him to the gym would be a sure fire way to hear you compliment him. 

[theworstwolvie]

i've got a better idea

summary: clark loves watching you hump his boots because i said so <3

CWs: this is just filth tbh. 18+ MDNI!, boot humping, finger sucking, one instance of clark being called "sir", a bit of dirty talk and degradation, fem!reader x clark kent, use of pet names (f!receiving), real sweet praise, the suit stays onnnnn!!!!, established relationship, reader obv knows clark is superman

@pinksplace this one's for you baby, i decided to pop it off of the back burner and put it up at the front bc you deserve it for being so lovely <3

Clark knows you love his Superman suit. He teases you about it all the time. Keeps it on just a little bit longer than he needs to when he returns to you from a late-night patrol since you like it so much.

He'll even land on your balcony harder than necessary if it's particularly late just to wake you up. And, of course, he feels bad for waking you up when you need your sleep. You have an earlier start than he does every morning, and unlike him, you actually need the sleep.

But then your pretty eyes flutter open when he slides open your balcony door and they land on him - on the bright blue fabric that seemingly glows even in pitch darkness, on the waterfall of his cape as it cascades over his back, on the symbol affixed to his chest all the way down to the bright red trunks and boots he's got on - and he knows he made the right choice.

You always get a specific glint in your eye when you see him in his suit. Of love, of lust, of adoration and awe. He never knows which one is causing the glint; he just knows he loves it more than words can ever hope to explain. To be wanted, needed, and loved by the world's prettiest woman?

That's what he's here for.

"I love your suit," you whisper. Soft. Sweet. Slow. A little drowsy. And yet, despite that, despite the yawn you're pushing out and the way you're rubbing your eyes, he knows what you want.

He could smell it on you as soon as your gaze landed on and registered him walking through that balcony door. He could hear the hitch in your breath and your heart hammering in your chest.

You want him. Already. That glint in your eyes pops up when you flash them his way and confirms it further.

"Yeah, honey," Clark softly replies. Punctuates it with a soft laugh as he slowly walks over to your bed and sinks down on the edge of it.

"I know you do. You're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat."

"You are a piece of meat, though. My favorite cut."

That's got him laughing again. He bends down to take his boots off while you're steadily rustling around in the sheets. Pushing yourself up, weight shifting and dipping the bed behind him.

"I think you're still half asleep," he mutters when you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind. He sits back up to keep you from slipping off of him.

"Put me back to sleep, then," you whisper into his ear. Your breath fans out over his ear and, even though he never gets cold, he shudders.

"Haven't seen you all day. Missed you. Missed these bright colors and how good they look on you."

His jaw tightens as your lips brush over his skin. When he leans into you, the kisses you press on the shell of his ear and down the side of his neck get slower. They linger more. Your tongue and teeth make brief appearances, reminding him of just how much he missed you, too.

He had been so lost in your touch that he didn't realize your fingers began playing with the zipper at his side. The hidden one that releases him from the suit he knows you'd rather him leave on.

If you love it so much, why would you want him out of it?

With one lightning quick movement, he engulfs your hand in his. The frown you pressed against his jawbone riddles him with guilt, but he laughs it off and turns to look at you instead. When your eyes finally meet, and the moonlight bounces off of your face, he has to stop himself from swooning. Even like this - hair a mess, eyes heavy from recent sleep, adorned in one of his old beat up t-shirts from high school - you're drop dead gorgeous.

He swallows down that swoon and instead clears his throat. Shoots you his best sweet grin, the one he knows always gets you going. The one that pops his dimples out for you and steals the breath right out of your chest. The one that makes that glint in your eye resurface.

"I've got a better idea."

"You're doing so well for me, aren't you, sweet thing?" Clark coos. He's got the biggest grin on his face. Whether it's from pride or love for you, he doesn't know. But he can't wipe it off. How could he?

You've been humping his left boot for the last 10 minutes, hips pathetically rutting against him like you're some sort of heat-ridden, desperate little dog. The embarrassingly loud schlick sound that follows each shift of your body tells him everything he needs to know. Not only do you like this, but you've probably been wanting it.

He's never been happier than he is right now. Never been prouder.

He beams down at you. Drops his voice down just a hint deeper - deep enough that he knows your pussy's clenching around nothing - and purrs, "My good girl."

"Feels s'fucking good," you slur while your fingers claw at his thighs and you speed up your hips. If he didn't have anything on, you'd probably cut through his skin from how harsh your grip is. You hum out a breathy moan. The gentle bump of your forehead against his knee pulls a disappointed click of his tongue from him.

"Hey," he firmly calls out, reaching down so he can force your head up. He raises a brow. Gives your cheeks a squeeze when his fingers curl around your chin then winks at you.

"Eyes on me. You know better. Wanna see my pretty baby's face when she's going dumb from humping my boot."

That one almost gets you. The moan you belt out when he feeds you that insulting - or, rather, insulting to him - comment tells him that. He felt your hips stutter, and the way that your body tightened up, and the way that your thighs started to quiver.

"M'sorry, sir," you mumble. It was hard to hear it from how he's got your face squished, so he loosens his grip.

"Don't say you're sorry. Just don't do it again," he warns. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip for a moment. When you take it upon yourself to open your mouth and suck his thumb into it, he's the one struggling to keep it together. He was already hard. Achingly so.

But when he sees his beautiful girl sucking on his thumb, when he feels her tongue circling around the digit and hears the soft moan she rumbles out against it? He thinks he might die. Might skip right over the orgasm and just die right here and right now.

"Goodness," he huffs, "you're gonna kill me, baby."

You giggle. Somehow, you always have the upper hand.

One of those hands sneakily travels up to the front of his trunks. You get a measly two seconds of palming his hardened cock and one rough jolt from Clark before he uses his free hand to pull you off of him.

"I don't think so," he hisses. He starts bouncing his leg that you're perched on up and down. When you drop your mouth open, moan, and your eyes roll back into your head, he finds that grin from earlier and displays it on his face once more.

"I think you should stay down there a little longer. Get a good look at this suit you love so much."

taglist: @clarkscolumn @unificsation @luvekent @tooloudarts @clarknsun @pinksplace @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @thceseus @sparklingsin @anon-188 @avgdestitute @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @maiamore

[howdoyousleep3]

Your dirty talk is exquisite i neeeed to read daddy steve talking bucky through an orgasm… i know you’ve most def written it before but unf im greedy

Ugh, my favorite yes of course.

“There it is— that’s what I want.”

Bucky barely realizes the stirrings in his own body, but Steve recognizes it. 

Daddy always knows when Bucky is going to come. 

He’s sure there isn’t a telltale sign that gives away his climax, but instead he’s more certain it’s how well Steve knows his body. Years of learning it, of arguably spending more time inside of it compared to outside of it, have led to this blissful spot of Steve knowing him better than he knows himself. 

Either way, Bucky always feels somewhat timid by how well Steve uses and works and demands pleasure from his body, even if does make his eyes roll back into his skull. 

“Daddy…” he whines, a drawn-out and pitiful noise from where he lay beneath Steve with his cheek smashed into the mattress. The arch of his back is deep, impressive even, and being face down with his hole on display always makes him come faster. 

He feels like a bit of a slut when he takes Daddy’s cock from behind. 

The smack on his ass, the tight squeeze of Steve’s handful, makes his whine turn nasally. 

“You always hand it over easy when I bend you over and give it to you deep,” Steve tells him, voice gruff and low as he fucks into Bucky at a steady pace. “Always let Daddy have it faster when you’re feeling slutty.”

Damn him, how is he also inside of Bucky's head?

Bucky’s tummy swims then, swirls and swoops alongside his core and his balls, and he gives in to the desire to squeeze his hole tight around Daddy’s girth, to be greedy with it. He almost shivers it feels so good, in and out and in and out, instead choosing to bring his fingers closest to his face up to his mouth to suck on. 

When Steve spits out a curse and then groans, when he presses in tight and digs his grip into the arch of Bucky’s back for better leverage, Bucky mewls around his fingers. 

He’s can’t stop his eyes from crossing. 

God, but he is going to come. 

“A perfect fuckin’ baby, my God— look at you. Pussy hungry, mouth hungry. Gotta stuff all’a your holes, don’t we, Buck? Gotta keep ‘em all full right, sugar?” 

He nods his head stupidly, whines and whimpers and sucks. 

“Full,” he cries messily around his fingers. “Keep me full, Daddy!” 

"That right. Pussy’s meant to stay full. Pussy’s made for big Daddy loads, isn’t it?”

Bucky’s moan is guttural this time, rakes against the front of his throat as his body’s relentlessly knocked around and fucked into the mattress. God, he loves Daddy’s big loads, loves being used to receive them in every which way. 

He tells Steve just that.

All Bucky can slur out around his digits is, “Love Daddy’s big loads. Make me come on it, Daddy…”, and all Daddy can respond with is a low, “Jesus fuckin' Christ…”.

Bucky’s dick throbs in delicious shame. He sucks around his fingers and moans, his hole milks at Daddy’s cock hungrily. Daddy’s heavy balls begin to smack lewdly against his taint and that’s—

Fuck, but that’s good. 

Daddy’s big balls are full of all the hot cum he gets once he’s a good boy and comes for Daddy. 

Bucky’s breath hitches, stutters. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Follow through— gimme what I want, what I’ve worked so hard for. Go on and bust for Daddy, honey. Lemme watch you come from just havin’ your little hole stuffed full. Your pretty…hungry little pussy that stretches out just enough for Daddy to fit inside. Your tiny—“

Bucky announces his climax in a garbled wail around a mouthful of his own fingers. And when Steve’s big hand lands on his nape to hold him down, to hold him in place while Daddy roughly uses his hole, he all but screams. 

His balls pull in tight, his dick just reaches a painful point of hardness, and then it’s damn near violently shooting cum into the sheets beneath him.

There are times Daddy fucks him through his orgasms, while other times he stuffs him full of cock and holds him there while he shakes around it, like he does tonight.

He holds Bucky in place while his body fights to thrash, while he shakes and sputters and whines while full to the brim with Daddy's big cock, his own dick continuing to twitch between his legs.

"Come on, Buck— show me how hungry that pussy is. Milk it outta me. Fuckin’ milk it outta your Daddy."

Bucky may think he doesn’t have a climax sign, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come, but he knows Steve’s— his erratic breathing and his desperate Daddy voice. And hearing that pair not only prolongs his orgasm, but forces him to think of the only thing that matters anymore—

Make Daddy come.

Sticky in the sheets, brain buzzing, mouth slick from his own spit, and hole still pulsing, even he himself is surprised when he starts to fuck up and back onto Daddy’s cock. It doesn’t matter if shoving himself back into Steve’s grip makes his skin ache, doesn’t matter if he’s still riding his orgasm.

He’s going to make that big cock bust.

“Want it deep,” he slurs, a messy smile pulling at the corners of his lips when Steve groans out his name. “Give it to me deep if you’re gonna make me work for it, Daddy.”

“Fuck, holy shit, Buck. I’m—“

“Mine.”

“I’m…take it then, take it— take Daddy’s load.”

Bucky squeals loudly when Steve shoves in deep with a roar and tests the limits of his body, rim stretched and aching as Daddy rides his orgasm out loudly. Bucky swears he feels his own dick spit out a few dribbles of cum at the feel of it, of Steve’s much larger body rutting into him, his body finding a specific kind of satisfaction in being used for Daddy’s cum.

Bucky closes his eyes with a sigh and squeezes his pussy all around Daddy’s cock, listening like a good boy and milking it for everything it’s worth.

The hand on his nape goes tight again.

“Atta boy— More. Squeeze me more.”

Bucky moans and listens like a good boy.

He loves being a good boy.

“Fuck, I love you bein’ a good boy too, sugar.”

Oh. Had he said that out loud?

“You wanna keep bein’ Daddy’s good boy while he goes another round? Huh? Just can’t seem to get soft tonight.”

Oh yes— Bucky loves being a good boy…

[polaroidsex]

᭡୧ thinking about size kink and bigdih clark ..

clark’s arms lock around your waist like steel bands and he hauls you straight off the floor, your feet kicking uselessly in the air while your hands scramble for the edge of the counter.

the kitchen tiles are cold under nothing but his bare feet and the slap of your bodies, but you don’t feel any of it because he’s already slamming back into you, thick cock stretching you open so wide your mouth drops on a shaky cry.

“did you seriously think you could get away?” his voice is low and rough against your ear, that farm-boy drawl gone dark and filthy.

sweat rolls down the carved lines of his chest and back, muscles flexing huge under your palms as he lifts and drops you onto every inch like you’re nothing but a toy for his cock. he’s taller, stronger, faster than anyone you’ve ever had, and he knows it. every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, the wet smack of his hips meeting your ass loud and obscene in the quiet room.

your legs dangle, toes barely brushing the floor before he yanks you higher and drives in again, cock so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach.

“sweet girls like you were made to be bred, y’know that?” he growls, teeth scraping your shoulder as he fucks into you a whole lot deeper, faster, the wet sound of your pussy taking him echoing off the walls. you’re dripping down his thighs already, slick running messy between you while he rearranges everything inside you with every brutal stroke.

he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding up to squeeze your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s aching, the other arm banded under your ass so he can bounce you on his cock like he’s got all the time in the world. your back arches, head falling against his shoulder, and he just laughs again, low and smug, hips snapping up so sharp your vision whites out for a second.

“that’s it, baby… feel how deep i am? no running now. this cunt’s mine.”

you try to answer but it comes out a broken moan, your walls fluttering tight around the heavy length splitting you open. clark groans at the squeeze, pace turning mean, pounding up into you so hard the counter creaks under your gripping fingers.

sweat slicks your skin where you’re pressed together, his chest hot and solid against your back, cock dragging perfect over that spot inside you again and again until your thighs shake and your voice cracks on his name.

he doesn’t slow down. just keeps lifting you, dropping you, fucking you full with every thick inch while his breath fans hot against your neck. “gonna fill you up,” he promises, voice wrecked and hungry, “gonna breed this pretty pussy till it’s dripping my cum for days. you’re not going anywhere till i’m done with you.” his hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that make your whole body jerk in his hold.

the pressure builds fast, overwhelming, and when you come it’s with a sob, pussy clamping down around him so hard he curses under his breath. clark fucks you through it, relentless, hips stuttering only when his own orgasm hits. he buries himself to the hilt and stays there, pulsing hot and deep while thick ropes of cum flood you, so much it leaks out around his cock and runs down your thighs. he keeps you suspended, rocking slow and lazy now, milking every last drop into you like he really means to breed you full.

only when you’re limp and panting does he finally lower you, but he doesn’t let go, just keeps you pinned against the counter with his cock still buried inside, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “told you you couldn’t get away.”

[velvetground-6]

corruption kink with perv college age clark……… teaching his sweet childhood southern belle friend how to feel goooood………….. teaching her how to fuck…. overstimming her with his fingers and tongue like a meanie at least 3 times (and telling her it’s normal when she shakily asks) before splitting her open……:…… then the next time they hook up He only makes her cum once & she asks Isn’t she supposed to give him another………. and another…………………

explicit (18+) 3rd time’s the charm :D

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“three? as in three times?”

clark licks his bottom lip and nods. eyes dazed while his head is down between her legs.

“mmhm. yeah. three times is the standard. don’t let any guys try and tell you different.”

she swallows the saliva built up on her tongue and peeks down at him.

“seems like a lot to me.”

clark snorts a cheeky laugh and resumes kissing her inner thighs, squeezing the flesh in his giant hands to help her relax. she’s so inexperienced she didn’t even know that having that many orgasms during one fuck is more than plenty. clark just wanted to watch her squirm. “well, just think about it. three’s better than zero. shouldn’t settle for anything less,” he affirms. “any boys try and get with you like I am, tell them you’ve got standards. and if they don’t live up to those standards, kick them out.”

teaching her was so fun. corrupting her was even more of a delight. he could tell her just about anything and she’d believe it, touch her anywhere and she’ll cry from it. he’d rubbed her through her panties with three of his fingers for over an hour just to feel the slow gradual puddle start to soak through her underwear. make his fingers sticky while he kissed her neck and whispered more lessons in her ear.

she always whined and wailed like a virgin, a secret she was shy and reluctant to let out to him as soon as their conversations started getting less PG after hours in her dorm. when her roommate was gone, clark was knocking at her door and ditching all of his other friends to spend time teaching her a little course of his own. she was easily the most book smart in their class but fell short in any knowledge of how to feel good. clark was mischievously eager to give her pointers.

“you can cum once on my fingers, once on my tongue, once on my dick….”

he noses up the cotton still covering her crotch. “or once on my tongue, twice on my dick. it’s whatever you want. however you want it.”

she gasps when he licks her clit through the fabric. clark aches when he feels how swollen, how ready she tastes.

he can’t hold back his cheeky laugh when a pointer finger of his reaches up the bottom hem of her panties and wiggles, snapping the band against her skin with a raised brow. “think it’s time to take these off yet? sounds like you’re ready to act out your first lesson.”

she gulps and it’s so innocent and cute his dick pulses even more just witnessing it. her feet graze his back and it felt like heaven to even get to be touched by her.

he takes her clawing at his hair as an enthusiastic yes and he obeys with a long, slow drag of her panties down both of her legs splayed up and bent in the air. when her pussy is out and open it is mouthwatering to look at. he swears he’s hypnotized by her pussy when he goes in a trance to saying nothing more before diving face first in. hums with his first lick. tickles her clit with the tip of his tongue, and it’s got its own little heartbeat that he needs to salvage it.

her whimpers sing in his ears, telling him he’s off to a great start.

“that’s—that’s—“

“feel good?” he grins. “don’t stress yourself out talking baby. just sit back, sit back and enjoy it,” he coos. paws so softly up her hip bones. obediently, her head lies back down with a shaky sigh. “good girl. good.”

she may have been meek, reserved to reveal any direct details about her virginity. says she’s maybe kissed a boy or two, left the rest to the imagination to fill in the gaps. clark knows it had to be code for Never Been Satisfied. possibly even Never Been Touched.

“taste perfect,” he whispers after a long, self indulging lick. ducks his nose down to breathe her in. her legs react with a tremble, her breathing stuttered while she mutters a shy th…thank you.

“mm, what’re you thanking me for,” he mumbles, boyish laugh stuck on his tongue. “I’ve been dying to be here. knew you’d taste like a peach even when I first met you.”

“really? when we were that young?”

that’s without a doubt.

“of course.”

he kitten licks the hood of her clit, making a pattern of dragging his tongue up and down to gather everything she drips. savors it and swallows it, hoping the taste will never leave his tongue. his dick is beating so hard it could pulse and explode, but it wasn’t about him right now. he had priorities first.

she clamps down in rhythmic beats as he sucks down the button of her clit, writhing with helplessness. clark continues his licks while hearing his name being uttered over and over. peers his head up and rubs her slit with his finger to check on her.

“you getting ready to have the first one?”

“ye…yes. clark, that feels really really good…”

“mmhm. I know it does. go ahead and give it to me. give me our first. don’t hold back, only two more to go after this,” he breathes. beckons her off the edge with a squeeze of her thighs. “almost there, beautiful.”

a gasp, a shudder, and a tight squeeze of her hand on his hair later and she’s cumming on his tongue so hard he takes her through every wave. praises her while she’s coming down, still clenching every muscle and clawing his hair into a tangled mess.

clark laps it up like someone who’s been hungry for days, licking and sucking her pussy down while she practically sprayed him in the face.

he can’t help wiping his face and licking what comes off his fingers, eating up every drop of evidence left on him. “best orgasm I’ve ever gotten to taste, baby. you did incredible.”

she’s wildly overstimulated even after the first one, pink and swollen everywhere all from him. it comes as a shock when his fingers add into the mix, scooping up the river she’s left between her lips as she’s closed her eyes and drifted off. she whimpers like it hurt when he gently thrusted his middle finger in barely past the fingertip. he doesn’t go as far as the knuckle and she’s already whining.

“shhshhshh, we aren’t done yet. don’t tap out on me now,” he giggles. smirk slapped on his face when he dips more of his finger in and curls it upwards, gentle with every tiniest gesture. she’s so sensitive and wet. a river pools out onto his fingers to make them shiny with every pull out, making him clench his jaw and grip his dick. it sits uncomfortably up against his thigh and throbs with every move, every sound she makes.

“we’re going for three, remember?”

“I remember, I remember,” she hurries. “it’s just all so much— feeling too much.”

clark could cum in his pants just from the sound of her raspy, fucked out voice, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good. “I’m so happy you felt good ‘cause of me, baby, but you need more. you aren’t satisfied yet, but I promise you will be.”

it almost sounded like a threat, but she can’t decipher anything while his fingers slide in deeper, pulling all the way out to move side to side on her clit before going back inside her again.

“I’m gonna make you feel even better.”

she groans with her mouth wide open, eyes closed with her twitchy legs sprawled out for him. clark can’t resist leaning in to give her a warm kiss. feeling how she’s so lazy she couldn’t even get her mouth closed while he kisses her. laughing against her mouth, he keeps fingering her pussy and rubbing on the hood of her clit until she’s crying out to him again like he’s God.

his fingers get drenched from all her helpless clenching with every pointed angle up. it fills the room with sloppy noise as he penetrated her with a few of his long fingers, palm finding her clit to rub the hood of her bud.

“mmmhm. that’s it. you’re making that face again. you’re about to give me another aren’t you?”

she mumbles some gibberish that he thinks translates to yes mixed with his name and she grabs onto his wrist. so big she can barely wrap around the entirety of it with her own hand.

her eyes open only to roll back while he digs his fingers in and slides them against her weeping walls. it’s his pleasure to feel the same gushing around his digits that he tasted flowing up against his tongue, knowing she’s been such a strong, good girl by giving him her second one.

he litters her face and collarbones with kisses while she weeps, holding onto him for dear life while the crushing weight of her second orgasm succumbs her.

tender moments of coming down roll by, with clark massaging her hips with soothing pinches of her skin and kissing everywhere between her ribcage to her hairline. he lets her think they’re done, allowing her a breather before he started on act three.

her body’s as good as jelly as her limbs flop about and can’t even stay upright longer than a second. she looks positively fucked out and tired from getting off on his mouth and his hand. but this won’t be the end.

finally, clark’s dick sprung out of his pants, as stiff and solid as it was when he’d even knocked on her door. has precum dripping like a running faucet when it slaps up his belly, his hand coming down to soothe it with a couple teasing strokes.

wincing at his own touch, his heavy lidded eyes don’t know where to land on her body while he strokes. he can’t stop staring. ogling at the mess between her thighs, at her stretched open pussy that still has his spit dribbling down her opening. he keeps slicking his cock up and down in silence before reaching a gentle hand down to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear so it’s not in her face. pets her cheek, grabs her jaw. firm but light when he wakes her up from the dreamy daze.

“c’mon. not finished yet princess. I know you’ve got another one in you. she’s still wet from wanting more,” he raises a brow. pulls a long swipe of his fingers from the bottom of her slit to the top at her bud. demonstrates the slick webbing between his fingers as if he’s showing off the evidence.

she paws at his abdomen and leans her head up as much as she could muster, puckering up and closing her eyes for a lazy kiss. a lazy kiss that he graciously accepts, leaning down with a heavy lidded smirk on his face when she swirls her tongue in his mouth.

“tasting your cum?”

“uh-uh. taste you.”

he snorts a laugh. “why? your cum tastes better than me. here,” clark takes his dick and drags it through all along her pussy folds, wetting up every fat inch of himself and then nodding his head down. “taste it straight off of me for yourself.”

she shivers when his cock barely first made contact, then outright mewls when he slides and rubs it around her hole. with her face stained beat red, she gets up to grab a hold of the v-line of his hips and timidly leans in to take a long inviting lick. doesn’t even have to wrap her lips around it to taste what he was talking about, feeling the warm slick gathering up on her tongue right off his veiny length.

clark’s eyes scrunch closed, tight, with his fists clenched at his sides before she takes it upon herself to keep licking like he’d given her a bowl of cream to lap up. her name is stuttered from his lips, stopping her greedy mouth with a rough hand on the strands of her hair to yank her back.

“don’t keep licking, don’t—I need to be in you before anything happens, don’t make me—“

she’s off him and back to her place with her legs spread out for him like she knows her place. clark huffs out of his nose and gets in position, wrapping each leg around himself for her to stay latched on while his tip finds her hole. doesn’t breach inside, not yet, but circles it. taunts it. waits until she’s as big of a disaster as he’s become. with more wet gliding movements and the wettest clark thinks he’s ever in his life made a woman get, he lines his tip up and lets her swollen pussy feel its weight before it even tries to go in.

“how will it fit?”

clark shakes his head.

“we’ll go slow until it feels good,” he says. her eyes get so wide when she sees how huge he looks pressed up against her. “don’t look down at it, don’t look down. it’s okay — just breathe with me.”

he meets her eyes and doesn’t start pushing in until she’s lax. when he gets to slide even just the tip in it’s the most excruciating pleasure he’s had in a long time, and he knew it. virgin.

“I’ll teach you how it can feel ‘cause really baby, it can feel so good.”

her pussy welcomes him in so soft and warm as he’s kissing her cheekbones and shushing her. eases his hips from side to side to feel her walls out, feeling for what angle made her twitch. when he finds it she makes it obvious, stuttering a groan and ending it with a long hum when he presses up against there again and again. even feels more slippery as he pulls all the way back out just to creep back into that spot again.

“see? doesn’t that feel nice?” he breathes. felt her clenching and raising her legs up higher behind him.

“mm. my good girl, my best friend,” clark taunts as he picks up the pace, still thrusting the head in and out to not overwhelm her and shove it up to her guts yet. he knows he has to wait for that. “you’re gonna love it when I show you more positions.”

“oh god… please, yes—”

“but you like this one, don’t you? me on top of you,” he mumbles as he takes a bold lick up her neck stopping near her chin. he was getting possessive, primal over the thought of being her first. staking his claim, showing her the ropes to the endless adventures of what highs pleasure could take her. “just wait until you take more, you’ll want to get on top of me.”

clark slowly eases in more of his dick this time, achingly slow to feed her more of the girth he had been holding back. wants to make sure she isn’t getting too split open on him, he watches her face and only sees mild annoyance at the snail like pace he’d adopted.

“I like when it goes in faster,” she whines. clark doesn’t hold back his laugh at how easy it was to get her cock hungry already.

“you already wanna go fast? you gotta get used to it first,” clark advised. if he sank in as deep as he could go and as fast as she wanted it, she’d be bleeding all over the sheets. “let’s get used to an inch at a time. that’s it, stay relaxed for me.”

clark lets his hips swivel left and right to wiggle in some more for her, feeling his cock nudge unexplored territory and swallowing him whole. his pace gets quick but he doesn’t allow himself to go balls deep yet, still teasing her g-spot with every drag out and glide back in. his eyes roll back while she whimpers beneath him, the combination of her sounds and her warmth sheathed around him begging for more quickly tearing him apart.

his tolerance is running low as he pressed in more on a particularly rough thrust, knowing she had to be feeling the brunt of it now. when he finds the strength he looks down again at their togetherness, at how his cock and her pussy meet perfectly in the middle, how she’s so stretched open she’s leaving rings of cream all around the width of his cock, with minor drops of blood in the mix.

clark winces and kisses her forehead, verbally checking in on her with a softness only reserved for her.

“am I hurting you, baby? you can tell me if I am, please,” he pleads.

she shook her head, vigorously curling in on him to lift her hips and guide him inside even more.

“not—not hurting anymore, just feels so big, but all’s I want is more of you. keep putting it in, go faster,” she begs.

“you want fast, I’ll give you fast,” he pants. sweat building up on his temples, slowly drifting down his forehead. he holds her in place by her thighs and fucks into her with quick precision, feeling her wetness slathering his cock the deeper it goes. she holds her breath and grabs with one hand onto the wall and the other on his shoulder for support, mouth gargling as it remains wide open.

the bed makes noise every single thrust in, hard creaking and loud squelching while he pounds into her with every ounce of willpower being steadily let go, rug ripped out from him from hearing his name jumbled in with her cries.

“you sound so pretty, look so pretty taking it too, gosh—you take it good. knew you had it in you— mmmm, gonna cum on me next? huh? cum on me, cum on this dick baby, you can do it. you’ve got it,” he encourages. has to halt his movements when she clenches so hard he thinks she’ll suck him in and keep him buried deep forever.

she can’t say anything back, voice only useful for humming and moaning while she fucks back on his dick, meets him for every thrust until her legs clamp up together, lazily holding him in while she cries out one last time to cream on his dick.

and clark has really done it. he’s found heaven.

“I’m cumming in you baby, I’m about to fill you up… don’t fight it, don’t fight it—take it all like I know you can, mmmmm….”

he honest to god squeals while she drains his balls and lets him empty every hot spurt of his load inside of her, clenching on him and dripping all of his cum back out on his dick while it’s still lodged in.

every cell in his body was singing with shock, never wanting to leave her body, never wanting to let her go. he could skip all his classes tomorrow and just stay right here in her bed and fuck. see if they could already beat their record of 3’s if he ate her out longer, fingered her harder. fucked and teased her slower.

their breathing is in sync as their sweaty bodies collide while he collapsed to the side right next to her, nuzzling his face in her hair while his cock selfishly stays crammed into her milked out pussy. she teases him by moving her hips ever so slightly, the angle from the side surely new for her. clark hisses and grabs onto her hip for leverage, more sensitive than he’s felt after a fuck in ages.

clark’s speech is muddled, slurring his words with a sloppy kiss to her neck. “I’ll… I’ll fuck you again, we’ll go again, don’t worry. I just need— d’you have any Gatorade?”

. . . .

the next time they fuck, clark realizes he’s created a monster.

they’re in his dorm this time. tv blaring to muffle any of the noise they make. clark’s roommate was out of town for the week, leaving his room open for more of their steamy encounters.

today they barely bothered to get into any foreplay, far too amped up and excited to get naked and go again. he kisses her as he’s undressing and feels her start to take more charge, getting on top, controlling their pace. she cums on his cock once after riding him fast, hips working harder than he’s ever seen to swirl around and find every spot that pleasured her. clark doesn’t find it in him to stay quiet, eagerly praising her progress and moaning while he does nothing except hold on as he’s getting used.

he cums so hard he thinks he blacks out for a second, mouth wide open and palms squeezing her sides while she rides the cum out of him like he’s nothing but a doll underneath her.

while clark is hardly half conscious she stays on top of him and starts swirling her hips in dangerous circles on him yet again, whispering in his ear, “what, falling asleep already? you taught me we’re supposed to go for three.”

clark takes a deep breath, rubbing her lower back while his other arm is planted over his face to hide his pink cheeks.

“I… I said that ‘cause I wanted to see how far I could take you and keep going. we don’t actually have to cum that many times—“

“well I want to,” she interjects. pulls his arm away from his face and squeezes down his bicep. “didn’t you say not to settle? that I should kick any boys out that don’t live up to my standard wasn’t it?”

clark is wide eyed when he swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head vigorously. “y—yeah. I did say that. you’re right. let’s go again, take me however you want,” he quickly agrees with a deep breath out. her grin is wide, snarky, like it’s saying to him that’s what I thought. clark knows he’s in deep now. can only hold on for the ride while she turns around to fuck him in reversed cowgirl, lining him back up with ease while he shivers and yelps as if he was the one getting fully stuffed.

he’s reminded of his own lesson while her cum soaks his dick to not ever make a promise that he couldn’t regularly keep.

. . . . . . . .

I got carried away but this is delicious I love it. roles getting reversed is yummy clark is a sub even when he’s a dom he’s a subby dom

btw I’ll go through more ideas in my ask box I’m slow af at writing sometimes thank u for the patience!

[onlyasteelmancanbealover]

the odd couple

fratboy!clark kent x fem!chubby!nerd!reader

18+ mdni

original ask <3

summary: nobody expects the frat boy and the chubby, nerdy girl to ever look in each others’ direction. but who cares what people expect?

word count: 3.5k

contains: fluff & smut. frat clark the wonderful gorgeous sassy little gentleman, reader is a weird literary nerd, lois lane being kickass propaganda. college kids being pretentious to turn each other on, my fav. some talk of drinking/being drunk, fraternity parties. clark and reader uhaul lesbian tf outta each other, first kiss/boyfriend trope. *piv, protected sex, light and bubbly and sweet because ughhhh… *no use of y/n

a/n: well yes, @intwoweeks ! i love frat clark, if you guys want more i will definitely do more with him– fics, blurbs, whatevs. hope you like ;)

————————————͙͘͡★———————————

If we asked anyone to explain how you and Clark Kent went well together, they would be at a loss for words. From the outside, it just… didn’t make sense. But then again, neither of you really made sense as individuals. That is, you didn’t fit into boxes in the way college kids like to. 

Clark was a brother in Alpha Gamma Rho. He was a backwards-hat, cut-off tank kind of guy. The legend of AGR keggers because he never seemed to get drunk. The very same legend who held doors for everyone, even if it made him late. You could see Clark mowing down brothers on the frat lawn in a game of tackle football, or studying with a pair of crooked, taped glasses in the library. Sometimes he was pulling senior pranks, parking cars on roofs or wrapping an office in Christmas paper. Other times he was exercising his secret duty of negotiating with campus police when a party was coming up, bringing them donuts and promising no problems, if they’ll only let it run its course. Needless to say, the farmboy wore many hats– but he had a core that was simple. Warm, thoughtful, passionate love. Intentional care. Remarkable intelligence. Those were just a few things that you loved about Clark. 

And you– well, who could ever figure you out? The girl with no solid shtick. President of the literature club, occasional peer tutor through the university library, who could often be found committing drunken karaoke offenses at the off-campus bar with your friend and roommate Lois. Nobody would be shocked to see you in fishnets and lacy black everything one day, and mary janes and a denim skirt the next. You walked with your head down and iPod blasting on school sidewalks, but you managed robust debates in class. You even put on the bulldog mascot suit and rushed the field during your sophomore-year homecoming game, because your public speaking professor (assistant coach of the MetU team, coincidentally) offered anyone a pass on the final presentation if they had the guts. When your peers would walk by and see you either hiding in a novel or handing out bookmarks for your club, no one batted an eye – because you were just that girl who did anything. Knowing everyone, yet knowing no one. 

It seemed every expectation of you both was subverted by another facet. Multi-dimensional in a one-note world. College isn’t always the place for fully-formed people like that, but perhaps it can be good for finding each other… can’t it?

You and Clark worked from the beginning.

He liked you when he found you standing in the corner of one of his frat parties, cradling a vodka cranberry (heavy on the vodka) with glazed eyes, staring over the sea of bodies like someone had personally offended you. He thought your dopey frown was sweet. You both remembered that night like it was yesterday.

—͙͘͡★—

“What’s the matter?” Clark had cooed, sauntering over with an empty beer bottle and a torturous little smirk on his face. His eyes were green and bright like the light across from Gatsby’s dock. You loved Gatbsy. Your drunken self thought of Gatsby religiously. Something about drinking and prohibition, and then the thought train just…

“My one friend dragged me here, and I think she’s gettin’ her face chewed over there,” you slurred, pouting, as a black-polished nail pointed across the party to another corner near the kitchen. Your good friend Lois, the only friend you had, really, had a guy in a jersey shoved up against the wall like she wore the pants in that makeout. 

Clark snickered and rested his elbow on your shoulder, laughing softer when you tried to wrestle out from under it. “You’re friends with Lane? That can’t be right. Lois is wild– and she’s here all the time. I’ve never seen you before.”

You lifted your buzzing head and rolled your eyes, sipping your drink– nearly missing the straw, and chasing it with your tongue. “Yeah, well, she needed a resume booster and I needed to get out of the house.”

Clark grinned at your soft mushing words, and he jutted his chin out with a curiously furrowed brow. “How many of those have you had, shortie?”

With a disgruntled scoff, you deflected: “M’not short!”

“Right, you’re just tall among hobbits,” Clark said, and he sat against the windowsill beside you.

He took a second to look you over that night. You had on quite the mix: a dainty little silver necklace that would nod to self-discipline, but it was bracketed by a denim jacket filthy with button pins screaming of new wave and half-niches. A little square neck tank that revealed a freckle by your collarbone. Army green cargos that rose low enough to squeeze the chub of your hips and tummy. Your boots had to have a platform at the very least one inch tall, he deduced, because they were serious and you were still short. And to top it off, there was a plum rim around your lips but a soft, neutral center, which meant you had lipstick on at some point, and had drank it all off. 

All of your small contradictions mixed with your very suspicious glances at him made his heart thump, and he knew then and there that he could see you sitting across from him at diners and nuzzling into his neck at theaters. He saw you kissing his cheek, he saw you crying over a test, he saw you waking up with tank top straps slipping from your rounded shoulders and yawning like a cat. He saw you with him, the little romantic…

“Y’know, you don’t look like a frat party kind of girl.”

“I do what I want,” you scrunched your nose, “Nothing means anything anyway.”

“Oh, do I detect a little nihilism, shortie?” Clark teased.

You swatted his shoulder and whined, “I am not short! And do you even know what that word means?”

“What, you think I’m an idiot?”

“Who coined nihilism?” you sneered, leaning down a bit to study his eyes, to see if they shifted. 

Clark tipped his head back and craned up, giving you a knowing grin. “Nietzsche. But that one guy Jacobi was the first guy to bring it up, Nietzsche just made it big. There was that other guy who wrote about it in Fathers and Sons…”

“Turgenev,” you suddenly smiled, the drunken judgement slipping away. “You know your depressing Germans!”

“And Russians,” he hummed, smiling wider. Your eyes were big as the moon, and his heart felt like it could seize at any moment. He had to find a way to keep you. “What’s your name, smartypants?”

By the way you smiled, it was clear you preferred that nickname. 

—͙͘͡★—

It was unusual, following that fateful encounter. Usually in college you get the couple who dances around each other for years, or you get the two horndogs who can’t even wait until the first date. For you and Clark, it just started… shapeless. 

You were too drunk to walk home that night, and so was Lois, so instead of letting you crash with all the other drunkies on the ground floor of the AGR fraternity, Clark personally put you both up in his room. He slept in his buddy Oliver’s room next door, in case he heard any creepers try to catch you or Lois offguard… or if he heard any puking. Then, when he expected to find you embarrassed the following morning, you were simply precious. A perfect, whiny little picture of a hangover– asking him shamelessly for McDonald’s and hogging his mattress until the fog cleared. When he asked Lois if you’re usually so fond of quick friendships, she just raised an eyebrow and said, “Don’t be stupid.”

And you liked him from the start, too. Let’s get that straight. 

You didn’t really want to, because the reputations of frat guys seemed to lean towards accuracy in most cases– but you couldn’t deny that they could be brutally attractive. When he stalked over with a Sharks cap on backwards, pretty little curls of chocolate peeking out at the nape of his neck, flexing those annoyingly toned arms under an AGR short-sleeve, you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. If you weren’t drunk, you might have been a bit more stuttery. But it was when he gazed up at you like a puppy whilst dropping all kinds of specialized knowledge on philosophy, the soft timbre of his tone cutting through the egregious EDM shaking the house, you felt the butterflies making your toes curl in your boots. He was sweet, non-threatening, and he smiled like a wolf. Something in your gut told you that Clark Kent was hiding a whole lot of beautiful behind that brotherhood insignia on his chest. 

It took you two all but a week to fall disgustingly in love, because Clark fell first, and he was a self-starter. 

He found you at the library the day after your drunken romp at his house and brought you a coffee (his brothers felt the urge to adopt you as their pet, by the way, when they found you rummaging like a racoon through the fridge and Clark sitting on the counter behind you, staring with hearts in his eyes… and Lois asleep at his side.) The day after that, he bribed Lois with five bucks to tell him you would be leaving the literature club at four. He walked you to your tutoring shift. The next, he almost breached the creepy line when he used the student directory at the tutoring center to find your dorm number… but you didn’t mind when he showed up with Chinese food and that God-given grin. 

Then the week was up again, and there was another AGR party. You were formally invited that time; he snuck you up to the roof through a series of window-hoppings, and he kissed you when you were in the middle of a rant about women writing under male pseudonyms…

—͙͘͡★—

“And did you know that they didn’t even let George Eliot get buried in Westminster? All that judgement for being a female writer, and then the thing with her husband dying and finding a new lover, and the Church said no, so now she’s buried in Highgate and she’s never been moved! Such bullshit, because she literally redefined–”

Clark couldn’t take it. Your eyes did this special thing when you got angry over book stuff, this little flash– like someone was starting up a lighter, over and over again– and it made his knees weak. He lurched forward as if he had no control over the urge, and he pressed his lips to yours in a manner that didn’t match the preceding; gentle, like he might hurt you if he wasn’t careful. His big palms, a bit rough around the curves, cradled your cheeks, and he smiled when he felt the way you sucked in a little breath, like he made you lose your place in thought. 

You didn’t even pull away, you only let your lips brush his as you asked, "What are you doing?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, like an absolute idiot. But he wasn’t one. If any girl would take that kind of truth bomb well, it would be you. He knew that for sure.

You nearly knocked him on his back with how excitedly you kissed back, lips slotting against his eagerly and unorganized, head tilting from left to right, trying to find the right way, the right pace, the best feeling. He knew within a second of your sloppy mouth that you had probably never kissed anyone before and were dying to figure it out. 

“Easy, easy!” he chuckled, passing his fingers through the strands of hair around your face. “Jeez, Einstein–”

“Shut up,” you giggled, pulling back. Your eyes were on fire in a whole new way. “You love me?”

“Probably,” he hummed. Definitely. 

“I love you,” you countered. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s probably too soon,” you reasoned, eyes drifting to his lips like they were a magnet. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

“Maybe we’re moving really fast,”

“Maybe.”

“What would I be?” 

“My girlfriend.”

“And you’d be my boyfriend,”

“Hopefully.”

“And you want that?”

“Sure I do.”

“You don’t think I'm fat?”

“What?” Clark mumbled against your skin, because he couldn’t take it anymore. He could volley your questions with his lips on your neck. “Stupid question… I like how much you weigh, and if you lose a pound I’ll be pissed.”

“I’ve never had a– mmf– a boyfriend before,”

“That’s fine,” a kiss.

“I might get needy,”

“Mm, please do…” a nip.

Your eyes fluttered when his hands slipped into your back pockets, squeezing happily. “I have a lot of h… homework, all the time,”

“So do I.”

“I vote in every election,” 

“Mhm, so do I,” a squeeze.

“I want to write books for a living, even if it means I’m poor,”

“I have a family farm back home… won’t ever have to worry…”

“I- I want to have kids… three kids and two dogs,”

“Farm’s definitely big enough… they better have your eyes, cutie.”

“Mmf–” It got hard to think when his teeth scraped behind your ear. “Are you even listening? You’re talking crazy,”

“Three kids, two dogs, active citizen of democracy, I’ll keep you fed and pretty and– mm, is this new perfume? – n’ you love me?”

“Oh, god… yes.”

“Good. Then we’re both crazy.”

—͙͘͡★—

So, it worked. Nothing you said turned him off or away. He practically knew what you were thinking before you said it. Clark didn’t have to learn to anticipate your every move, he just did. And you seemed to read his mind, although that wasn’t so innate as it was easy– it was all over his gorgeous, gorgeous face. 

It was one of those things where you seemed to just fit like interlocking fingers. Every strength, every weakness, they melded into a trade of wills. Where he couldn’t, you could, and you shared life like a milkshake. One straw and a lot of kissing between sips. 

Your first time was in your shared dorm room with Lois, when you remembered to lock the door but forgot to deadbolt it, and so she had the misfortune of opening it up and finding the two of your startled into fits of laughter, hiding from her grumblings about ‘boys’ and ‘privacy’:

—͙͘͡★—

You really had never felt anything like it before, and whatever bad porn you watched or had seen in artsy movies did not do it justice. Or, maybe it was just Clark.

Clark had you pressed into the mattress under two hundred and twenty pounds of soft, twisting muscle, his hands wrapped around your back and digging into your sides. You weren’t sure you’d ever be small enough to hold, but maybe you just needed a bigger guy all this time. Everything in proportion, right?

And god, he was a whiner. Clark rutted into you in what should’ve been little motions, but he was so genuinely large that any thrust made your legs shake. It was quite a struggle getting the condom on, actually, because he was so anxious to be sweet with you that his hands shook. You had to roll it on for him, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his blushing cheeks. 

“Oh, god, baby,” he whimpered, nibbling at the joint of your neck and shoulder as the plush heat of your walls throbbed around him. “Oh my god, oh my god…”

You were a hot mess, burning up and completely eager. Every grind was met with a buck of your hips, your knees hitched high and your fingernails– purple this time– digging into the meat of his back. For a first timer, you had no reservations. You moaned into the dampening hair behind his ear, “Ho-oly shit, Clark…”

His hands rushed to touch every inch of your back and sides as he lifted himself up a bit and gazed down at you. His chain dangled against your lips and he watched as you took it in your mouth, passing it between tongue and teeth, batting those sinful lashes up at him. He scrunched his face up with a weak desire and tucked a hand under your knee, opening you up that last bit before driving into you with a force that managed to compromise speed and safety. Just as his hands kneaded your tummy, just as your hands twisted the sheets up, just as the two of you were begging and pleading and whining like little vocal twin flames, Lois unlocked the door and froze in the doorway. 

You startled immediately and Clark flopped on top of you, his first concern to cover you from whoever it was. But a poor moment of judgement caused him to keep going, even when Lois burst into a flurry of curses. 

“Jesus Christ, you guys– oh my god, somebody should’ve just told me, I wouldn’t have come home, couldn’t even put a fucking sock on the door like civilized people– oh my god, are you still going? Fuck, guys, ew! Privacy! Privacy in my own dorm room, that's all I ask! Boys in the room, there’ll never be boys in the room she said– oh, Christ, someone text me when it’s over!”

You devolved into helpless, shocked laughter as she babbled herself out and locked the door again, and Clark smiled into your chest as he made you punctuate every giggle with a moan. He couldn’t get enough of the way you sounded– it was breathy, like a whisper, until it hit harder and your pleasure reached a low register, whiny and hungry. He wanted to chase it out of you until you had no sound left. And he did– until your back arched, until the condom simply couldn’t take any more, until your eyes fluttered shut and wouldn’t open again, until your body twitched and slumped and every other word either sounded like “Clarkie” or “Love you.”

—͙͘͡★—

No matter what first came to pass, or whatever college threw at you, Clark didn’t budge. He knew it when he sought you out at that party. He knew you were the stroke of good luck he’d never find again. So, he kept you. Good choice, because he got a free tutor out of it- not that he needed it. The perks were really just making out in the library. 

He met your parents after a couple months, and they gushed over him. The homegrown farmboy had the good sense to bring flowers, and your parents kept them on the sill for weeks until they wilted to nothing. You showed him your childhood room, and he nearly cried at a little list of birthday wishes you had pasted next to your vanity, to which you laughed and accused, “You sap.”

Then it was his turn; he took you home on break to the farm, and his parents nearly gave Martha’s ring over on the spot. You received five pie recipes free of charge. Jonathan Kent gave you a rigorous tour of the farm, and he even let you brush the horses– one of which sneezed on your nice blouse. Clark took you into town for a new one and you got to see all the places he grew up in, and then you nearly cried, and all he could do was kiss you and tell you just how pretty you looked with grass in your hair. 

Clark bought you exactly one second-hand novel a week, and you wrote him little poems on scraps of paper and tucked them in every place possible, so that when he went through life, he’d find it unexpectedly, and remember that wherever he was, you were, too. 

He went to the slam poetry night your club hosted. You were crowned kegger queen to his kegger king at a particularly rowdy party. His brothers threw you a birthday party and got you delightfully drunk, so you could enjoy a childhood birthday wish of stargazing at midnight next to a cute boy. Said cute boy had to usher his friends to bed just so he could consummate the day you were brought into the world properly (and it was better than the first, somehow.) When you woke up the next morning, hungover in his bed, you smiled to yourself. Your tank top strap slid down your arm. He pushed it up. 

It didn’t matter on your shy or outgoing days, or when you felt dark or light. It didn’t matter when he had to put on the ‘brother’ face and do the stupid shit fraternities do. What mattered was that he protected your heart in a little box, and just when it felt like maybe you two wouldn't meet on some small level, you did. It was synchrony. It was easy.

And you know what? It didn’t have to make sense. You two were the odd couple. Soulmates exist like flames in the eyes of girls who float in the wind. He was yours, backwards hat and all, and there was nothing easier than that.

[maiamore]

you're obsessed with the fact that clark kent is your husband.

tags: smut, husband!clark, tons of 'wife' and 'husband' mentions, marital kink, unprotected p-in-v, mean dom!clark, teasing, big dick!clark, pussy pronouns, reader 'rides' clark (900+ wc)

—

there’s something so natural about having a man like clark kent as your husband.

you didn't think the prospect of marriage — or well, the legality mattered to you that much until he was yours to call officially — the utter triumph every time you'd see the golden wedding band sitting snug on his ring finger. warding off women who dared to think they had a chance.

he was yours. your husband, and you were his wife. the thought itself made you so giddy. at every inconsequential mention — "…just me & my wife," "oh — it's my wife's."

the culmination of pent-up feelings regarding it, somehow displaced over the months, turned to a wildly potent feeling of arousal. wetness that lends familiarity between your thighs whenever you let that thought fester in your mind for a second too long.

clark knew his wife, through and through. so this fact wasn't foreign to him, and it was something he'd used for both your benefits unapologetically.

"thas' it. ah — like that."

the situation at present was entirely motivated by the torturous teasing your husband had subjected you to. quiet affirmations to your combined reflections on the mirror before leaving for date night, paired with foolishly-transparent attempts of his to rile you up.

it worked, nonetheless.

your thighs were spread, impossibly apart above his wide, meatier ones that tenses beneath your grip — he's steadying you with gentle nudges of his hips. but it does nothing to ease the sheer stretch of his cock, discouraging you from sinking down any further.

though you'd think you might've had enough preparation, considering the less than appropriate pre-game in the of the limousine ride back home, where he'd eased your pussy on his thick digits.

not to say clark actively partook in public improprieties, but it'd gotten increasingly difficult to turn you down when you'd been rubbing his bulge needily the second you had 'privacy'. plus, in fairness — he had instigated you relentlessly.

"m'sorry, i-i can't, any…more…"

he tuts at your visible struggle, in the manner your trembling hips have halted when he barely had his length halfway notched in you.

"now…that can't be right," he begins, "not when this pussy's creaming 'round me when she takes it to the hilt every other night."

a visible shudder runs right down your spine, at his tone that bordered on a mocking cruelty, but served to only make you pulse in arousal, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest.

"that's…mean," you try.

clark involuntarily lets out a huff of laughter as he points out, "not what I felt."

before you're able to call him out for his behaviour all damn day, you feel his hands steady around your hips. stuttered, broken protests leave you when you're pulled back down by gravity, forcing your cunt to swallow at least an inch more of his length.

instantly, you go rigid, fingers knotted around the softer, tuft of hair on his chest. "a-ah, fuck! s-slower," you manage, all pitchy.

clark hums thoughtfully, tightening his glutes to counter your weight. most of the work was being done by him, at this rate, but he doesn't point it out.

you're trying your best to remain upright, a simple task that becomes impossible when he'd managed to slide halfway into you.

deep, shaky pants are pressed against his skin when you finally slump forward. hips tilted upward like a skittish cat, as you refuse to take him all the way in.

clark's heavy palm comes to rest at the back of your head, soothing at first, before you feel yourself tilt back a tad. there's no pain when his fisted hand interlock in your hair.

he leans in to press gentle kisses by the edge of your jawline, to your pulse, nipping at it just so he could hear your whiny hiss. beneath, you don't realise that his gestures have allowed you to loosen up your pelvic muscles, tremble in your thighs, easing off.

"deep breath f'me. hm?"

you blink hazily at his quick, muttered warning, not entirely registering it until the one swift thrust of his hips has you nearly electrocuted in shock. the feeling of his throbbing, hard cock is buried in you to the hilt. any fear of the sting quickly dissipated by the firm grip to the gloves of your ass.

he squeezes the fat there, as if to let your pussy marinate the slick arousal that had built for hours, before his slamming you down.

gurgled, incoherent words spill from you relentlessly at his blatant overtaking in fucking you for real this time. it was a foreign feeling to have felt so powerless while quite literally being on top, but the thoughts have far strayed.

clark's jaw is clenched, grinding on his molars in a futile effort to not spill and fill your womb deep with his spend. it's paired with his innate need to get you off first, which by the feel of it, wasn't too far off with how the base of his cock was slick and creamy from your arousal.

his hands then slide upward your ribs, thumbs skirting past the neglected tits he'd make a mental note to suck on plenty, later on in the tub.

"can feel it, pulsin' around me. gonna cum f'me?"

you tilt your head to whine into his ears, breathless string of yes-yes-yes's making sure he'd kept the same pace to roll his hips into you.

he tugs you, rough but decisive the moment you teeter on the precipice of your orgasm, welcoming the long, wanton pitchy gasps. clark grits, only speeding up more despite you attempting to pull back from overstimulation.

your pussy, now achy, and far too sensitive, is quickly quenched by the jet of hot, viscous cum spurting deep inside you. warmth coating your insides in steady, stuttered thrusts.

by then, you've rolled off him, cunt twitching from the aftermath as it expels the pearlescent overflow. he tugs you back to his sweaty chest.

[jeleynai]

Pipedreams 😴

Some pre-relationship pining c:

As always, early access, WIPs and other goodies are on my Patreon!

[ghostedink]

This is heavily inspired by @twolegsandbleeds and their Simon can’t flirt series<3 (go read it. It’s amazing.)

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

Simon Riley didn’t do soft.

He didn’t do gentle smiles across a room or teasing glances that lingered too long. He didn’t know how to lean against a wall and charm someone with a few well placed words. Those were things other men did—men who grew up in homes where love looked like laughter and warm dinners.

Simon grew up where love looked like broken dishes and bruised knuckles.

So when he realized he liked you, it confused the hell out of him.

It started small. You worked nearby—same building, different department. He’d seen you around enough to recognize the soft way you moved through rooms, like you were trying not to disturb the air. Always polite. Always quiet. Eyes that never quite held his for long.

At first, he thought you avoided him because of the mask.

Wouldn’t be the first.

But then he started noticing other things.

The way you’d freeze when he walked past, shoulders going stiff. The way your fingers would tighten around whatever you were holding. The way you’d duck your head so quickly he barely caught a glimpse of your face.

Right.

You were scared of him.

Simon leaned back in his chair in the rec room one night, arms crossed as he stared at the ceiling.

Brilliant, Riley.

Still… it didn’t stop the feeling.

It was strange, liking someone. He didn’t know what to do with it. Soap had once said something about flirting—buying drinks, cracking jokes, smiling.

Simon wasn’t about to start cracking jokes.

After two weeks of overthinking it, he came to a conclusion.

Best to just ask.

Direct.

Clear.

Efficient.

All the things he was good at.

So the next morning, when he saw you standing alone near the coffee machine, he decided that was as good a moment as any.

You didn’t notice him at first.

You were focused on the coffee cup in your hands, carefully stirring sugar into it. Humming under your breath as the small spoon clinked softly against the ceramic.

Simon approached like he would a hostile building.

Measured steps. Quiet. Controlled.

When he stopped behind you, his shadow fell across the counter.

You noticed immediately.

Your shoulders stiffened.

Slowly—very slowly—you turned.

And then you saw him.

Six foot something of silent military presence, broad shoulders filling the small breakroom doorway. His skull mask stared down at you, dark eyes watching from behind it.

Your brain immediately chose panic.

Your hands tightened around the coffee cup like it might protect you.

Simon studied you for a moment.

You looked… small.

Not weak. Just… delicate. Like if someone spoke too loudly you might flinch.

He frowned slightly behind the mask.

Right.

Words.

He cleared his throat.

It came out rough.

“You.”

That did not help.

Your eyes widened immediately.

Simon mentally swore.

He tried again.

“You’re… uh.”

Christ.

Why was this harder than interrogation?

“You’re the one who works down the hall.”

Your voice came out soft and nervous.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Sir.

He hated that.

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh—sorry—”

You looked like you were about two seconds from apologizing yourself into the floor.

Right. Focus.

Simon straightened slightly, forcing himself to just say it.

His tone was blunt. Matter-of-fact.

“I want to take you out.”

Your brain completely short-circuited.

“…what?”

Simon nodded once, like he was confirming a mission objective.

“Dinner. Or coffee.” He gestured vaguely at the machine. “Whatever people do.”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Your face slowly turned pink.

Simon misread your silence immediately.

His stomach dropped.

Right. Of course.

Why would someone like you want anything to do with someone like him.

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly, voice flattening into its usual military tone. “Was just askin’. Forget it.”

He started to turn away.

And that’s when you panicked.

“N-no!”

Simon froze.

Slowly, he turned back.

You were gripping your coffee cup with both hands, face red, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“I mean—” you swallowed hard. “I—I’d like that.”

Simon stared at you.

“You would.”

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded quickly.

“Y-yes.”

Simon studied you again.

You were clearly terrified.

Fidgeting. Avoiding his gaze. Nervous energy practically vibrating off you.

And yet… you said yes.

Something unfamiliar settled quietly in his chest.

Not pride.

Not victory.

Just… warmth.

He nodded once.

“Alright.”

You waited.

Simon waited.

Neither of you moved.

Finally you asked softly, “S-so… when?”

Simon considered it like he was planning a tactical operation.

“Friday.”

“O-okay.”

“Six.”

“Okay.”

Another pause.

You looked like you might faint.

Simon shifted awkwardly.

Then, after a moment, he added gruffly,

“I won’t wear the mask.”

Your head snapped up in surprise.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck again, clearly uncomfortable.

“Figured it might help.”

Your expression softened just a little.

And for the first time since the conversation started…

You smiled.

It was small.

Shy.

But real.

Simon felt something in his chest do a strange, unfamiliar flip.

Yeah.

Maybe this whole flirting thing wasn’t as hard as he thought.

[nthewriter]

You and Simon are married, mostly by convenience.

His team, except Captain Price, was shocked to learn that Ghost was married. He casually mentioned it once, on a ride back to England. Something about how the missus was going to fuss over his fatigues being all ripped.

Shock sustained in the helicopter. No one talked for a few minutes. First, Ghost had a wife. The emotional constipated man had a wife. The silent shadow had a woman back home. Second, Ghost had a wife who knew his life. This was against the accord they all signed to not reveal anything about their military lives and what they were doing. So, why did Ghost went against those terms?

Because you had been part of a similar unit, long ago. Except, your own Task Force had been ambushed. You and Ghost were the only survivors, taken away, tortured. They slashed your face, burnt it with acids. Ghost? They locked him ten feet under the ground with the corpses of his own friends.

When you both got away from this hell, and you were honourably discharged, Ghost had come to see you. Made you his proposal. You accepted.

Was it love? No. It was companionship. It was Ghost seeing your face, your trauma and couldn’t comprehend how you would survive alone. And he couldn’t survive without you. Two same sides of the same coin. You needed each other to live, to be alive, to feel alive hell.

So, you took care of the small cottage home you both purchased. You knew how to make his tea. He knew how to cook your favourite meal. You mended his fatigues while chastising him by reminding how the government funding was declining. He left notes around the house to make sure you drink water and take your medication. You begrudgingly agreed to take in the military dog that failed his exam. He begrudgingly have to leave you all the space in the bed.

Not a marriage of love. But one of understanding.

[kill3ill]

good fortune | clark kent

cw. a/b/o AU, dom! clark, unprotected sex, downbad! clark, elevator sex, breeding, size difference, manhandling, breast play, scent kink, brief (almost nonexistent) cnc. MDNI.

synopsis. clark finds exactly what he was looking for when he goes to a public gym for the first time.

wc. 4k

jimmy'd been bugging clark to start coming to the gym with him for about three weeks now. clark knew because he'd been counting.

"why are you gatekeeping your routines from me, man?" he'd been complaining in his ear since the daily planet staff social three fridays ago. "you've already got the cute puppy dog look that girls go nuts over. there's literally zero reason for you to not show me your plans so i can get as fit as you."

clark had sighed and told him not to base his self-worth on his physique alone, but jimmy had shooed him off and told him, quote, "not to get all patronizing and to just be his gym buddy already." clark had caved today, finally, since he was sure a guy like jimmy would quit the gym in a few days anyway.

much to his surprise though, friday, saturday, and sunday evening joint workouts had started to become a routine for them. though clark had never worked in a public gym before and had got all his - as jimmy would call them - "gains" from the justice league tower gym, (which he obviously couldn't disclose to jimmy and had to buy a public gym membership on the spot when he'd visited with his friend) he couldn't say he was fond of it even thought it was an entirely new experience. he constantly felt eyes on him. judging him, inspecting him... getting too much attention from curious betas or shy omegas.

not to mention the cloying mix of so many scents at once. it made his brain hurt.

he didn't have to worry about that in the justice league, because nearly all the members were Alphas, with a few exceptions of a beta here and there. very manageable. here, in a public scene, it was too much.

too many eyes, scents, which were heavier everyone's hot and sweaty, and worse, communal areas. the gym had a unisex changeroom for some odd reason, with built in showers and even a sauna. he would walk in and some omega would be trotting around in just a bikini.

he made a point to come changed to the gym so he wouldn't have to use it. changing out of his sweaty clothes would be done in the backseat of his car after he finished his workout.

regardless of the cons that came with using a public gym, the weight room had everything clark needed. mostly only alphas lingered in that zone anyway, so it was a relief on his part.

he'd been lifting with jimmy until nearly every muscle in his body felt sore and hot from exertions, and he felt he was ready to turn in for the night. giving jimmy a goodbye and a quick handshake, he grabs his bag and starts heading out of the room and to the exit, before his gaze catches on two women. one is watching and giving encouragements, and the other, you, are using the smith machine for your squats.

clark freezes in place.

he's close enough to smell you. there's a sweet, pleasant scent radiating from you. not the sickeningly sweet kind he inhales from some omegas, a very peaceful and soothing one. it nearly makes his eyes droop and his mouth water. he confirms that you are indeed an omega by the soft mating gland on your bare neck - your hair being up in a ponytail helping him get a full glimpse of it. it's sealed. there's no trace of an alpha mixing with your scent either. just an unclaimed, very pretty omega.

the world feels muted around him for a moment, even the rhythmic clink of weights and the faint hiss of the machines going dull in his senses as he fixates on you. you switch out with your friend, rubbing sweat off your forehead as you tip your head back to get a drink of water, giving him an even better view of your side profile and your neck.

clark forces himself to crouch down and pretend to tie his shoe, which was already double knotted, so he has to fumble around for a bit. you distracting him, looking so beautiful, doesn't help either. he's fixated on the way you move around, stretching, and the way your plush lips move as you speak.

he doesn't mean to stare. he knows it's dreadfully impolite and probably very creepy, but his mind has locked onto you with instinctive fascination. he's drawn to you in a way that gives him tunnel vision, which is saying much as you're a complete stranger. but still, everything but you has faded into the background.

as he zones out on your face, your eyes lift and meet his across the room. he freezes up immediately, feeling the telltale signs of a blush spreading across his cheeks. the heat rising up his neck, the way his ears are throbbing and warm, the sweat pooling on his brow... fuck. he must look insane to you right now.

instead, your gaze is simply curious. you tilt your head at him inquisitively, eyes all bright and perhaps interested. he quickly glances back at his bag, pretending to fumble with it, hoping to buy himself a few seconds to think. he drops it accidentally onto the ground like a fool.

his struggles seemed to amuse you, by the way you turn to your friend and laugh softly. the sound is liquid warmth that echoes in his chest. he knows you're talking about him. for sure, you are. you look back at him and smile shyly, then giggle again and turn away, urging your friend to go back to her set and to stop looking at him.

“clark! what are you still doing here? i thought you were heading home!” jimmy calls as he emerges from the changeroom, towel slung over his shoulder. his eyes squint at clark suspiciously.

clark jolts upright upon hearing his name, freezing up like a deer caught in headlights. he gets to his feet quickly, heart pounding. “i-i was… i was just, uh…” he flails internally, searching for some excuse that won’t expose the fact that he’s been staring at a random omega across the gym. “i j-just got something stuck on my shoe a-and it was bugging me.” he waves awkwardly toward jimmy, clutching his bag a little too tightly, and adds, “well uh, see you tomorrow.”

jimmy watches clark practically bolt to the exit, eyes wide in surprise. "alright... don't be a stranger" he says to the spot clark was in a few moments ago.

once clark is outside, the cool air does little to calm his speeding heart rate. all from one look at you and few inhales of your scent. as he gets in the car and throws his bag in the passenger seat. he's had crushes before, been with a good amount of people for a man his age, but he's never acted up like this on a first impression. his pulse keeps skyrocketing when he thinks of you. he already feels the tug of wanting to see you again.

...

the next time clark sees you is in the warm up area while you stretch to get ready for today's workout. he stops by curiously, unable to help himself. he'd been thinking about you all night, in all honesty. your face, what your name might be, why you're not claimed, what you do for work. he wants to know everything about you.

his eyes follow your movements as you lean over and touch your shoes while chatting with your gym buddy, the same girl from yesterday. a completely unwarranted burst of jealousy fills him. how could someone like her spot you and train you? he could push you further and motivate you to keep up with his pace while he guided you in the gym. he could spot you while you pushed yourself to the limits with the heaviest weights you could manage, not this woman, who looked a lot more wiry and weak than you. you looked to be the one training her, which clark found inefficient...

he scowls to himself and tries to push the thoughts away quickly. he's being ridiculously territorial over a stranger, but he can't help himself. when alphas find the omega of their dreams, which he's pretty sure has happened to him, wanting to seclude them from everyone else is not an easy instinct to control. he forces a breath through his nose and urges himself to mind his own business, but jimmy seems to be interested in the room clark's been lingering by.

"y'know what, stretching's a good idea, buddy." he puts his hand on clark's shoulder. "i didn't believe in it till i nearly tore something in my leg yesterday. not fun. you head in while i change. i really should start doing it before i get here like you do..."

clark tries not to freak out at the idea of being in such close proximity to you in a not-so-big space. conveniently, too, your friend mumbles something to you and goes out of the room as well to grab something, leaving you and clark alone.

he pauses, unable to believe the way things have played out for him, but pushes himself forward, walking past you to grab a mat. he finds himself trying not to salivate, chewing on his lower lip in hopes to contain himself. as he sits down a few feet to your right, your scent worms its way into his brain once again, making his eyes heavy and lidded. Omega pheromones. Omega sweat. Omega pussy.

He feels his brain reverting to it's simplest capacity, fixating on you beneath him, mewling, calling him alpha as he pushes his fat cock slowly in and out of your dripping pussy, and begging for his knot.

you draw him out of his filthy thoughts by turning to speak to him. “hey,” you call across the mats, “weren’t you here yesterday too?”

clark straightens instinctively, cheeks heating again. he can’t help it. “um... y-yeah. i, uh, come here sometimes after work.” he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as unsteady to you as it does to him.

you nod and bring your legs into a butterfly hold while you speak to him. “cool. guess we’re on the same schedule then.” you smile once and bend forward again, oblivious to how he’s gone a little dizzy from your scent drifting closer.

he blinks a little, not wanting to end the conversation on a yeah, cool. and certainly exaggerating a story a bit to spend more time with you couldn't be bad, could it? omegas were instinctively driven to aid and obey an alpha. so if he asked for your help, you'd just be doing your due duties. omegas often got off on things like this anyway, so if anything, he'd be doing you a favor.

he sighs, trying to act as sheepish and dumb as possible. "i-i'm a little lost, actually. i don't usually work out here and i haven't gotten to know all the rooms and equipment yet. i'm more of a home gym guy." he pauses, scrambling to think of a continuation. "i m-mean, i was going to look for the pool today, but i think i took a wrong turn and ended up here."

your gaze turned understanding, and you nodded along with everything he told you with rapt attention. "yeah, i get it. didn't help that your friend abandoned you, right?" you stand up and start to put away your mat. "my gym partner had to go grab something from her car, and it's like a labyrinth trying to find an exit anyway, so i have some time to kill. i can show you where the pool is."

"thank you so much," he said, truly grateful. though he hadn't planned on swimming today, he was actually thankful for your help and allowing him to be around you for a really long time, with how you described how far the trek is. you start walking out of the stretching room, beckoning for him to follow you, which he did. but as your back turns, he leans closer and takes a long inhale of your scent, trying to burrow it inside his system. its so sweet. and even better when he smells it straight from the source, that mating gland of yours.

which, he just noticed, has started leaking oil. your body's way of telling you an alpha is near and interested. he bites back a groan. he walks closely to you so your arms can "accidentally" brush against each other. "thank you for taking me," he said appreciatively, looking down at you intently as you lead him to an elevator. from what it looked like, the pools were on the lowest floor of the gym. "i'm clark."

"no problem," you smile up at him, eyes shining. you give him your name in return, and he whispers it back to you softly. he's sure to be as close to you as possible in the confined space, but the proximity is far too much for clark right now, especially since he'd been thinking about doing filthy things to you every second since he met you. on the way home, while eating dinner, while laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock...

the elevator descends a little, now in motion, but his heart rate has only increased since. his huge frame is taking up so much space, and you're backed into a corner. you're so small compared to him. he could do anything to you...

he lifts his arm, wanting to touch you. he plans to make some excuse to cup your face by pretending there's an imaginary speck of dust or an eyelash on your cheeks, when his elbow hits the emergency stop button on the side by accident.

the elevator lurches to a stop so hard that you stumble forward, bracing a hand on the clark's broad chest. his reflexes are instant; his arm snakes around your waist to steady you. his palms are huge and warm as they hold you through your thin workout clothes, holding you there like he’s been dying for the excuse.

“oh, shoot.” he murmurs, “i didn’t mean to um, hit that.” his hand doesn’t leave your waist, thumb drifting against your bare waist. your eyes flick up to his tentatively, meeting his hungry gaze. the alpha's pupils have blown wide; even his breathing is heavier now, chest rising against the snug compression shirt he’s wearing.

his scent shifts. you take a deep inhale of warmth, cedar, and his hormones. it's masculine and would be overpowering if it was from some creepy, domineering alpha, but your senses settle because it's him. you don't know why you trust a stranger so much, but the way he speaks to you, so soft and compassionate, makes your defenses lower and your instincts give a purr of satisfaction.

your mating gland gives another betraying throb, a fresh drop of oil slicking the skin there. clark’s gaze flicks down to it and then back up, fighting the urge to lick away the sweet syrup. his hands clench on your waist. you swallow thickly.

"i-it's okay," you say softly. "i saw. it was an accident..."

you're definitely not on suppressants. it's clear to him. he can feel all of you, feel the way your body reacts to him and how your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth. and the way you're pressing up against him. he wants to feel more of your soft, supple skin under his thick fingers.

he wants to feel your tight pussy stretch around his thick knot.

you had to know what you were doing to him right now, didn't you? you've walked around the gym two days now in such tiny, spandex crop tops, your sports bra doing little to cover your budding nipples, and the trickles of sweat running down your exposed skin, creating a soft sheen...

at least clark had been smart enough to not wear shorts again to the gym, opting instead for dark sweatpants that would hide the way his knot has started to swell up and press against his hardening cock. he hasn't stopped crowding you in the corner of the elevator, pressing up against you hard enough that if you really paid attention, you'd notice his swollen cock pressing between your thighs. all he had to do was pull away your little shorts and slide into you. he can smell how wet you're getting already. any longer and you'll start dripping down your bare thighs.

 “c-clark? should we contact admin for mngh- help?” you take a deep breath in, wanting to de-fog your head. you can't possibly be this turned on by getting pinned by a stranger, even if he is handsome. this is entirely inappropriate, and both your friends are probably back and wondering where the two of you are right now. you're extremely embarrassed at the way your body keeps releasing your pheromones at him, wanting him to mate with you right now. but he's relishing in the way he can nearly taste the scent of your leaking pussy in the air around both of you. he doesn't miss the little moan you let out when you speak either. he knows you're feeling it just as much as he is.

he drops both hands to your hips at your suggestion, pulling you as close to him as possible and leaning down so that your noses were nearly brushing. your eyes widen and your pupils dilate a little more. his have turned nearly black by now. you really start to realize the situation you're in - how you're caged into a corner, trapped in a confined space with an alpha about to experience a rut, how all your senses are responding him and basically screaming "come fuck me."

"we should st-mmf." is all you get out before he slots his warm mouth over yours, going in instantly with tongue. his slides over yours with urgency, lapping and rolling over yours rhythmically. he moves his hands to cup your face so he can kiss you harder, tilting his head and molding his lips against yours, sucking on the soft flesh hard while his tongue laps at yours. "gosh... i-wanted" wet slurp, "t'do this since i first saw you." he mumbles against your mouth, moaning at your taste and the softness of your lips. he just knew you'd be perfect. that kissing you would be perfect.

you're so responsive too, fisting at his shirt to tug him closer, then moving your hands into his curls and tugging lightly, before dropping them back to his biceps. it's so cute, how you don't know what to do with yourself. you squeak when his hands descend to your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds while his thumbs roll over your nipples. he swallows your noises of pleasure before descending his mouth to your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses down to your throat before licking up all the leakage from your gland. he places his mouth on your gland, sucking straight from the source.

you cry out as he closes down on your most sensitive spot, not giving you a chance to breathe as he puts his thick thigh between your legs, bumping your soaked pussy against his muscled leg and grinding it firm against your core. you're in such ecstasy that all thoughts of shutting this down or getting out of the elevator have slipped your mind, and your head spins at all the stimulation he's inflicting on you. his mouth on your neck, his hands groping your breasts, and his leg between yours.

if you're enjoying this so much, he can't imagine the noises you'll make when he finally pushes inside you and fucks you raw. you pant as he rolls your firm nipples between his fingertips and pinches, the motion making you rock forward on his thigh and leak even more slick onto his dark sweats.

"y'wanna get out of these?" he coos, moving one hand off your tits to tug at your shorts. you nod eagerly, and his hand immediately works to push them down to your ankles, your panties - almost translucent from how soaked you are - coming next. he groans at the sight of your pussy and the scent exuding from it, his mind racing at the thought of splitting your tiny hole open for him. he can't wait any longer.

he pulls away for a second to shove his own pants down, seeing how you whine and follow him, displeased at the sudden loss of touch. "easy, sweetheart." he says soothingly, pulling down his boxers for you after his pants. his fat cock snaps up and hits his stomach, leaking so much pre that the head is completely coated in his mess. it's so thick that it would take two of your hands to wrap around, and the veins lead down to his even thicker knot and balls at the base. he gives himself a few rough pumps, then lifts your leg, aligning your hole with his wet tip, tapping it a few times against your gooey folds.

"a-alpha please," you find yourself begging for him, salivating at the thought of such a big cock inside you. "i-i can't wait any longer!" his instincts purr at the title, and his restraint frays entirely. he starts pushing his head inside, groaning at the instant tightness. he can barely get the head in with how tight you are, despite the wetness trickling out of you in waves now. how is he going to get his knot inside you? "ill make it fit," he promises, groaning lowly at the sensation of his cock pushing deeper inside you.

he rocks his hips a bit to nuzzle his cock deeper, lifting your leg up and hooking it under his arm to get you to open up for him wider. "see? y'taking all of me so good... oh gosh." he thrusts up into you, pushing the tip all the way inside. he goes deeper, and your pussy sucking him deeper inside helps him get deeper, and deeper... he draws back and slams in in a hard thrust, burrowing all of his cock - safe for the knot, deep inside you.

your lead lolls back, a loud moan bubbling out of you. he's all the way inside, cockhead pressing right up on your womb. "fuuuuck, alpha!" you mewl as he starts to thrust into you hard and fast. he fucks up into you, using his hand on your breast and the other balancing your leg to keep you upright. his cock presses deep inside, dragging against your walls with each rough thrust. the thick veins lining his cock rub against them too. it feels so good that you go limp for a second, and he kisses your forehead to soothe you, then completely takes over, lifting your other leg and picking you up against the wall, bouncing you on his cock all by himself. he slowly lifts you off his cock and pulls you up until he's out of you almost completely, safe for his tip lodged inside your hole, then slams you back down and fucks you on his cock like you're a ragdoll.

both of you are moaning so loud now that the people outside must hear it, but your shame is all gone, fingernails scratching at his nape as his knot hits your clit with each bounce, forcing you upwards on his cock and then back down roughly. "gonna fill you up real nice, omega." he says, nudging his face into your neck and lightly sinking his teeth into your flesh, feeling your gland start to break apart as more of your delicious nectar flows into his mouth. he moans, eyes hooded as he soothes the mark with his tongue. his knot starts to swell at the base. you stiffen up and throw your head back, your orgasm taking over you while your fingers twist at the back of his shirt, your juices splattering and coating his cock in creamy slick.

clark fucks you through it, his knot wedging into your hole and then sliding inside with a pop, lubricated by your orgasm. "omega- fuck" he swears, so into it that he goes out of character. "fuck, 'm gonna pump you full, okay? get y'full of my babies." when you nod and shove your fingers in his hair, dragging your mouth against his, he cums hard, shooting thick ropes of cum into your puffy cunt while his knot stays lodged inside you. he fills you up with warm, thick cum, painting your insides and keeping you filled with his knot stuck firm inside of you. he keeps his mouth locked on yours as the receiver next to the stop button on the door flickers, having been on for a while now.

"um... is everything okay in there?"

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