soldier boy's wifey

knock knock who's there? go fuck your face

[sbwifey]

⋆⊱ i'm the most uncool motherfucker on the planet ⊰⋆

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[nicostiel]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy + Text Posts

[sbwifey]

The Protégé

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Alastair taught Dean how to torture souls. But one soul Dean tortured caught his eye.

Warnings: MDNI 18+. Purely smut. Choking. Spitting. Slapping. Rough sex. Squirting. Degradation. Knife play. Unprotected P in V. Creampie. I think that's it?

A/N: Been a while since I've written anything so this might suck + not really edited

Dean Winchester had spent decades being tortured in hell, and finally he gave in to Alastair's offer of taking him off the rack for good. Soon, it was his hands slick with blood and his soul twisted by Alastair’s lessons. Every day he chose a new victim, carving screams from each soul until they shattered. But one soul never shattered the way the others did.

You.

He noticed the way your body reacted when the blade bit into your skin. How your thighs pressed together, how your breath hitched not from pain alone but from something else. At first he thought it was defiance. This little bitch thinks she's defiant against one of Hell's best torturers? Ha! But then, the realization hit him like a truck.

You liked it.

That knowledge burned through him. So much so that the next time he dragged you from your rack, he didn’t reach for the usual hooks. Instead he shoved you to your knees on the scorched stone floor of the torture chamber.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

You hesitated just long enough for him to slap your cheek hard enough to sting. The sound echoed. Your mouth fell open on instinct. "Don't move," he gritted, as he shoved his pants down in one motion.

He pulled his thick, leaking cock out and he shoved it between your lips without mercy. He gripped your hair with both hands and drove forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis, throat convulsing around him.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Take it all, you sick little slut.”

He facefucked you in brutal thrusts, using your mouth like a hole, spit and precum dripping down your chin onto your tits. Every time you gagged he pulled back just enough to slap you again, then shoved back in deeper. Tears streaked your face but your pussy throbbed, slick running down your thighs.

Dean yanked you off his cock by the hair and spat directly into your open mouth. “Swallow.” You did. He hauled you up, spun you around, and bent you over the blood-stained table in the middle of the room. One hand wrapped around your throat from behind, squeezing until your vision sparkled while the other dragged the flat of a knife along your spine.

He pressed the tip of the blade just hard enough to draw a thin red line between your shoulder blades. The sting made you moan. Dean laughed darkly.

“You’re dripping for this,” he said, kicking your legs wider. He reached down with his free hand, spreading your swollen pussy lips apart, gathering the slick on his fingers. He drew his hand back, bringing it to his mouth as he licked his fingers cleaned.

Then without warning he slammed his cock into your soaked pussy in one savage thrust. You cried out and he tightened his grip on your throat as he started pounding you so hard the table scraped across the floor.

Every stroke was punishing. He used the knife to trace fresh cuts across your ass while he fucked you, then he tossed the knife down on the table and he reached around to rub your swollen clit with rough fingers. The combination of pain, choking, the brutal stretch of his cock pushed you over fast. Your whole body seized and you came hard around him, soaking his balls and the floor beneath you.

Dean didn’t stop. He flipped you onto your back, slapped your tits, then shoved back inside while your legs shook. He gripped your thighs, holding your legs back, each thrust brushed against your sweet spot. He spat on your face again, rubbed it in with his palm, and kept rutting into you like he wanted to break you in half.

He grabbed the knife from the table, "Beg for it,” he snarled, knife at your throat now. “Tell me you want me to ruin this fuckin' pussy.” You gasped the words out between choked moans, "Please, please ruin me." He rewarded you by driving deeper, faster, until another gush of wetness sprayed from you.

He came with a guttural groan, hot ropes of his cum flooded your insides while the blade nicked your skin just enough to draw blood. When he finally pulled out, his cum and your own juices leaked down your thighs.

Dean pulled you down off of the table onto your knees again and he wiped his cock across your face, marking you.

“Clean it,” he ordered.

You opened your mouth again without hesitation, tongue working over every inch of his still hard cock, while he watched with dark, satisfied eyes.

There is no doubt now, you were his favorite soul to torture now, and he was nowhere near finished using you.

Taglist: @animelucky @mystic-writings @magster196 @soldierboysdoll @castielscaplan @skywalker0809 @winchesterwild78 @cas-is-my-angel7 @mostlymarvelgirl @chevroletdean @waynes-multiverse @eunoiaxmrvl @woulddieforapplepie @fatallyfixated

[legalmente-loca-blog]

Being Interrupted Is Not Always A Bad Thing

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female Reader x Mr. Marathon

Summary: Soldier Boy interrupts you and Mr. Marathon, along with Homelander, who are searching for something called V1. But instead of putting him to work, he decides to interrogate you. Or at least that's what he tells his son.

Word Count: 1,055

Tags/Warnings: +18, smut, anal, p in v (unprotected), creampie, threesome, dacryphilia

Mr. Marathon’s super speed made your insides vibrate as he thrust his hips hard upward against you. You moaned and laughed on top of him, those vibrations even tickling you.

“Who’s my good girl, huh?” He murmured.

His hands held your breasts so they wouldn’t bounce so much and hurt.

“Me! I am, Mr. Marathon.”

And of course, he loved it when you called him by his superhero name.

Your ass slammed against his pelvis again and again at an incredible speed, and every second that passed was one second closer to orgasm.

“Well, this is definitely a good fucking view.”

You looked over your shoulder as soon as you heard that voice and screamed instinctively, sliding off Mr. Marathon and lying down next to him, covering yourself with the sheet.

“Whoa, whoa.” Your partner put a hand out in front of him, covering his crotch. “Wait… Homelander? Soldier Boy?”

Your breath was rapid, and you pressed yourself as close to him as possible. You stared in astonishment at the two men standing in the room in their suits. Homelander wore a look of disgust on his face, unlike Soldier Boy, who smirked and looked at you intently and with a perverse intensity.

“God, you guys are the ones from TV.” You said, your eyes wide.

“Ugh, this is disgusting.” Homelander said, rolling his eyes. “We’re looking for the V1, and we were told you had it.” He stood at the foot of the bed, and you turned to look at Mr. Marathon.

“Um, well, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I need it now.”

You swallowed at his threatening tone.

“Relax, son.” Soldier Boy said, patting his shoulder. “Why don’t you leave us alone and wait outside for a few moments, huh?” He led him to the door, a hand on his shoulder.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to interrogate them about the V1. Now go.” He closed the door in his face and looked at them, walking slowly to your side of the bed.

“Uh, I don’t know anything about something called a V1, sir.”

He smirked and stroked your chin.

“Well, aren’t you a total sweetheart?” He glanced at Mr. Marathon. “Would you lend her to me?”

“W-What?” You stammered.

“Sure, Soldier Boy. It would be an honor.” You looked at your boyfriend in surprise, and he just smiled gently and stroked your shoulder. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s Soldier Boy!”

You turned your gaze back to the man standing beside you. He started unzipping his suit.

“Have you been with two supes at the same time, doll?” You shook your head. “Awww, look, we’ve got a virgin in our hands. What about your ass? Have you taken a supe there yet?” Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again.

“No, I haven’t deflowered her down there yet.” Mr. Marathon added, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Uh, so we not only have a virgin of supes, but also a virgin of ass.” He unzipped his pants. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for?”

⋆⋆⋆🝳✞✧★ఌ𐙚⋆⋆⋆

You felt your insides stretching deliciously as both supes pounded inside you. You were on top of Mr. Marathon, your hands on his chest as he thrust into your pussy again and again, while Soldier Boy was behind you, attacking your ass and making you feel things you never thought possible.

“Oh, this little fucking girl can really take it.” He said before grabbing your neck and pulling you back, pressing your back against his chest.

His balls slapped against you as Mr. Marathon’s cock pounded deep into your cervix, his hands holding your hips as he watched intently, licking his lips.

“Yeah, she takes it like a good girl.” He used his super speed to flick your clit with two fingers, making you tremble.

You were so close, and the pleasure was so intense, that you started to sob. It was simply too much, but you wanted more.

“Awww, look at her. She’s crying like a little girl.” Soldier Boy grunted. He licked a tear that rolled down your cheek and groaned. “Christ on a cross, even her tears are delicious.” He thrust his cock hard into you and you whimpered. “Yeah, that’s it. Keep crying. Quench my thirst, baby.” He licked two more tears from your face, moving your face to his liking with one hand.

“She’s close, I can feel her squeezing me.” The man beneath you groaned.

He began using his super speed again, thrusting in and out of you rapidly, making you bounce on his lap and causing Soldier Boy’s cock to move pleasurably inside you as well. You reached the peak of pleasure. Your body shook as if possessed, and your holes squeezed tightly around both cocks.

“God-Fuck, yeah, like that.” Mr. Marathon growled. “Y-yes, fuck!” He ejaculated his warm semen inside you, painting your pussy white as if his life depended on it.

“Shit, y-you’re squeezing me so good.” Soldier Boy closed his eyes tightly and tightened his grip on your neck, even making you gasp for air in those few seconds before he reached orgasm. “Yes! Yes, fuck!” He groaned deeply and he too released his semen, filling you.

You had never felt so full and tired in your life, and you were loving every second. Your body went limp, but Soldier Boy held you firmly from behind, so you stayed against him until he gently lowered you onto the other man’s chest. He slowly withdrew from you, feeling your walls wet with his semen, until he pulled his cock out. Immediately, his white fluid began to flow from you, and he laughed.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He slapped your ass, and more of his semen flowed out of you. “Look at that. Fucking perfect.”

He got off the bed and began to dress. Mr. Marathon stroked your back while his cock was inside your pussy, his semen oozing out all around under the watchful eye of Soldier Boy, who smirked.

“I’ll probably be back.” He winked at you. “Now, Marathon, get dressed and tell us what you know about V1.”

“Of course, Soldier Boy.” He nodded.

He gave you one last arrogant look before opening the bedroom door.

Homelander was on the other side, furious, his hands behind his back. He also looked horrified.

“What the fuck happened in there?!”

Soldier Boy One Shots

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[sbwifey]

fuck.

[beecomingnothing]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dads!bestfriend!russell x reader , fauxcest if you squint , secret relations , blow job , 18+

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 315

#𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this is so bad bc it’s late but enjoy ¿¿ getting me to write lately is like pulling teeth :(

dads!bestfriend!russell always made you promise it was the last time , but he never stopped looking for a reason to break that promise.

standing in the kitchen , nursing a beer while your father rambled on about a project in the garage. but underneath the tight fabric of his greyed jeans , he was reeling. mind trapped in the claustrophobic , humid air of the laundry room from twenty minutes ago. a sensitive ache , a phantom weight of your mouth refusing to leave him.

it had been dirty of you both. the moment his strained cock escaped his boxers , one soft ‘slap’ and his drooling tip escaped its confines. thick , watery precome ran in rivulets down the dense hair on his abdomen.

what really made him keep coming back to you , was when you paid extra attention to his sensitive tip. those small firm licks to the head of his purpled shaft. letting out a soft giggle when his breathing stopped and his cock started to twitch.

russell would try and press your head back, his knuckles white , a hiss the only warning he had left. “quit fucking doing— that sweetheart. ‘m gonna come too quick.” and you’d take every desperate, greedy bit of him in your mouth , your goal was to make him come harder than the last.

"you still with us?" your dad laughed , clapping a hand on russell’s shoulder.

"yeah ‘course i am," he cleared his throat, a register that felt like a secret confession. "just need a drink." and he’d let his gaze flicker toward you , where you stood by the sink , your lips still slightly wet and puffy.

as he swallowed , the faint taste of salt on his tongue. a reminder of taking his thumb , gliding against your lower lip to catch the lingering trace of his own release , and bringing it back to taste himself.

"this gotta be the last time, kid," he had whispered, lowly.

what a lie.

[deanwinchesterkiss]

Any scene where dean is cleaning his gun always makes me think about him using it to fuck reader 🤤

me too, twin! (MDNI)

the scorching summer heat was making it unbearable to even lay down comfortably. of course the cheap motel you were currently saying at didn't have any AC. beads of sweat trickled down your forehead. "dean I'm going to hunt you down for booking this motel, I swear to god!" you complained.

dean walked over to you with two cold beers. "easy there, feisty. don't blame me, sammy booked this motel. got us some drinks to cool off though, pretty." he beemed, a wide smile plastered on his face. the sight of him wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his broad chest glistening from sweat made you feel better but you were still pissed off.

"beer is the last thing I want right now. it will just make me feel more sluggish" you groaned. dean sighed and laid down the bottles on the wooden table next you. his hand reached towards your thigh stroking it gently, the feeling of his cold silver ring feeling comforting as his thumb rubbed circles on your skin. "mhmm what do I gotta do to make you happy again, sweetheart?"

you fawned yourself with both of your hands "just need something to cool off." you panted. dean walked off leaving you confused but you didn't bother calling out for him because you knew he would come back again. he did come back, with his gun.

"uhmmm?" you chuckled nervously and dean just smiled up at you. "what? needed something cool, well I'm just making sure my girl gets what she wants." with a swift motion he took out all the bullets and organized them neatly— he loved you too much to leave it loaded.

with heavy steps dean approached you, his hands grasping both of your legs, spreading them apart. "mhmm deanie" you moaned, your face all flushed from the heat. he rubbed the the tip of the gun against your cotton panties, a damp spot quickly forming on them.

"want me to fuck your pretty pussy with my gun, gorgeous?" he asked while sliding your panties down. you just nodded while looking up at him. "please."

dean pressed the cold metal against your hot pussy, sweet slick oozing out of your center already. "jeez sweetheart, you really are a dirty slut."

he circled the gun around your entrance and pushed it in without any form of preparation. you wanted to scream but dean covered your mouth with his calloused hand "shhh, it's okay. you're taking it so well f' me."

you gazed up at dean, god you loved that man so much. your muffled moans got stifled by his hand as he pumped the gun in and out of your cunt. "this cool enough for you sweetheart?"

"yes, oh fuck deanie, I'm soooo close." you moaned, your wetness dripping down your ass. dean groaned satisfied at your response "mhmm what a sweet girl. cum for me gorgeous."

when you came he finally took his hand off your mouth in order to hear you properly, not even caring about how thin the motel walls were.

just then sam stepped inside "you two are seriously fucked up. am not even going to mention how irresponsible this is." he stated completely annoyed by your and dean's antics.

[fatallyfixated]

Beauty Sleep

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Word Count: 570

Summary: You can't fall asleep in the back of the Impala on the way back from a hunt.

Warnings: None, fluff, Dean being a softie, no use of y/n

A/N: I've had this saved for over a year but never posted it anywhere. It was originally written in 1st person pov bc it was just a dream I had and wrote down... Enjoy!

It was a long hunt. You're all exhausted. You most of all, though for no particular reason. You'd all been chasing your tails for the better part of a week trying to figure out what you were dealing with. When you finally realized it was a vamp nest masquerading as werewolves, the job was wrapped up pretty quick, but the sons of bitches put up a hell of a fight.

You're on the way back to the bunker, Sam and Dean in the front, you choosing to take the back so you could try to get some shut eye. Sleep however, does not come easy.

You toss and turn for a good hour before finally sitting up again, resting your forehead on the back of the front seat.

“Can’t sleep?” Dean asks, looking at you in the rear view mirror.

“No no,” you reply without picking up your head. “I’m asleep right now.”

Dean chuckles. He 's used to your sassiness, and how much of a smartass you could be when you were tired or frustrated– and right now, you're both. “Just lay down again. Play dead. Let the car rock you to sleep.”

“I’ve tried that. Still nothing… How can I be so damn exhausted and not be able to sleep… It doesn’t make nay sense.” 

Sam turns around a bit to face you. “You wanna switch? Sit up here with Dean?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I’m always taking the front. You two could use the brother bonding time or whatever.”

It's true. Ever since you and Dean got together, Sam had always offered the front seat, but at some point you started feeling bad making him sit in the back all the time, so you started offering it back. It got to the point where you'd argue more over who’d take the back than who’d get to sit up front. A few times, Dean had to threaten to just drive off without you both until one of you broke and just took the front seat– almost always you, because damn if Sam doesn't have that Winchester stubbornness in him just as much as his brother.

Sam chuckles and Dean shakes his head. “Brother bonding time? What are we, twelve?”

You lean back in your seat and cross your arms, leaning your head against the window. Dean sees the tired look in your eyes and pulls the car over. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he gets out of the car, nodding at Sam to take his spot. Sam slides over to the drivers side and Dean gets in beside you.

“C’mere,” He says, patting his lap.

“Dean–”

“Shut up and lay down, would ya?”

You reluctantly comply, but it doesn’t take much convincing at all. You lay down on the seat as best as you can, rest your head on his thigh, and try to get comfortable. Sam starts the car and keeps on driving without a single objection. Dean’s hand finds its way to your hair as he runs his fingers through it in a gentle, soothing motion. You let out a sigh of content, and turn your head to place a quick kiss on his leg.

“Thanks…” you mutter.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart… See if you can get that beauty sleep now, alright?”

You nod, let your eyes fall shut, and before you know it, you drift off.

[sbwifey]

I'm so obsessed with Soldier Boy uGHHHH dick me down pls

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles photographed by Anthony Avellano

[sbwifey]

ohmyfuckinggod

[yeiowrites]

mess up your white tee (i’ll do you dirty)

summary: driving back to the kent farm after your internship, you see your boyfriend in his tight white tee… drenched in sweat. (inspos: this p-link + this tiktok)

warnings: MATURE (18+) / pure smut w light fluff / no plot, just clark wearing a white shirt / excessive description about cocks and dicks / overstimulation / oral (m) / groping / established relationship / no penetration / mild dirty talk / reader is ovulating, clark is free-use / semi-public sex (someone walks in)

a/n: oh my lawwwd this might be my best smut piece yet !!! pls do not hesitate to comment your thoughts & reactions, it motivates me a lot when u guys enjoy my work :3

gifs from @/zanephillips !

The front door of the Kent house jingles on your arrival.

The smell of Martha Kent's town-famous pies infiltrating your nostrils as soon as you entered the door. Martha, who usually was out of the house most of the time, seemed to have some spare time because she's baking again.

And God knows how happy you are that she is.

"Sweetheart, I set you aside some pies and muffins for you and Clark to eat over the weekend," Martha says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek like a mother would. "I have to go to New York with Lionel for a charity ball… you know we need the sponsors."

You hum, taking a utensil from the drawer to eat the sliced pie on the counter. "That's great, Mrs. Kent! Though I'm not sure Clark'd appreciate you going with Lionel."

"I know," she sighs. "But it's what I gotta do. I can't run the senate seat without sponsors, we need the funding."

The moment you feel the pie melt into your mouth, you're done for. You moan loudly, jerking your fork back and forth making Martha laugh.

"Sorry—have you told Clark about it?" You lean on the counter, voice slightly stuffed as you continued eating.

Martha shakes her head, "Still trying the right time to."

She sets the topic aside, beginning to talk about things happening in the senate. Both of you occasionally laughing when she talks about something particularly ridiculous that the other senators do.

It was a sweet and lighthearted conversation you had with your boyfriend's mother; it always is. Aside from the incredible being that is Clark Kent, you're also thankful that he had such a cool mother and a wonderful father behind him. Makes you feel all the more lucky to be part of such a family.

When you finish your pie, you feel a lot more rejuvenated. Like you could take on the world. Let fate give you their biggest challenge, who cares?

"Want another slice? I have one more—"

You spot Clark come out of the tool shed through the kitchen window, the white shirt he had on was littered with black stains and possibly some oil grease. The fabric clinging onto his body like second skin, barely letting his biceps breathe as he hoisted up some tool his shoulders, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he began heading elsewhere.

Your mouth waters, mind drifting off to the image of Clark underneath you, utterly ruined and glistening with sweat. Hips stuttering, cock begging to be tended to.

Sorry Martha Kent, I just found something else I wanna eat.

"Actually, I'll eat the last piece later with Clark," you tell her, putting on a sweet, innocent smile on your face. "D'you happen to know where he is?"

Martha's mouth forms an 'o', looking behind her to glance through the window. "I think he was at the shed earlier… you should probably go check the barn. I think he's fixing up something there."

You were already by the door when she finished, waving happily. "Thanks!"

A loud mechanical sound comes from the barn, practically reverberating all throughout the farm with how loud it was. You clasp your hands behind your back, discreetly walking inside only to see the first floor empty.

Your eyebrows furrow confusedly, hands coming apart to grip the strap of your bag, looking around the area for your white-shirt wearing hunk.

"You got home early," a voice comes from above.

You immediately looked up, an amused scoff coming from you as Clark leaned down on the wooden rails, grinning at you endearingly.

"Didn't you miss me?" You ask teasingly, face beaming as you made your way to the stairs, meeting with him at the center. Arms immediately thrown upwards to pull him close. Clark chuckles, not expecting you to lunge yourself towards him. Definitely not when he's sweaty and dirty.

But that's how you like him—sweaty and dirty.

"I missed you real bad, sweets. It was—oh—hard fixing the farm without a human radio beside me," Clark grunts in the middle of his sentence, suddenly feeling your hand over his clothed member, rubbing him gently through his jeans. "You okay? I just… I just finished bringing some heavy stuff up the loft and it's…"

Clark's words trail off as you began kissing the thick column of his neck. Messily licking the sweaty skin while your hand continues massaging him, your other one resting on his shoulder.

You feel his chest heave. A low, almost silent, groan leaving his mouth the moment you bite on the spot between his neck and collarbone, same time as you pull at the hairs on the back of his neck with your free hand.

The manly smell of sweat oozing off of him has you grinding your body on his. The hand you previously had on his center, slowly moving up and under his white shirt. His firm abs flexing under your touch.

Just as his eyes roll back, he snaps into reality, pulling away haphazardly.

"B-baby! What's gotten into you?" Clark laughs shakily, confused at the suddenness of your actions. "Look, I'm all dirty," he moves his arm up to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "Let me take a quick shower and we can continue this, alright?"

Your face drops, "No."

He laughs again, this time with an expression that has you rolling your eyes. He stared at you like the word no was the least of his expected responses. "What do you mean no? Baby, I'm all sweaty—look, my shirt's dirty. I'm dripping of sweat, sweetheart, your clothes gonna get all messed up."

The smile he offers to you was a consoling one. Telling you that he'd really wouldn't want you to be with him in such a state wherein he's not clean and spotless.

You look at him through your lashes, lips separating as you stood on your tiptoes, moving close to his ear while he quickly leans down to your touch. "All the more reason to let me suck your cock, Clark."

When you pull back, you grin devilishly when Clark looks at you with bewildered eyes. His adam's apple bobbing uncontrollably. You push him back onto the steps of the loft, his body falling defenselessly on the top section of the stairs, the two of you hidden by just a few wooden panels.

Clark swallows on nothing, the heat of your voice has blood rushing into his cock, jeans tightening quicker than usual. You throw your bag somewhere in the loft, the rattle of your things being the least of your worries.

You turn to Clark, taking one more look at him; sweaty, flushed, and very much aroused. The evident bulge in his pants and shirt has you drooling.

You climb on top of him, Clark's hand immediately holding your body to make sure you won't fall back. You kiss him with much hunger in you, aggressively swiping your tongue and biting his bottom lip.

Your hips grind on his clothed cock, the rough material of his jeans making you mewl into the kiss. Clark lets you in without a fight, tongue tangling itself with yours as he has his own exploration underneath your top. Big, manly hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You grind even harder on his cock, a coil building up in your core despite the two of you still fully clothed. You pull your hand up to slide underneath the waistband of his pants, feeling the weight of his hardening cock on your hand. The fabric of his boxers slowly getting wet by the tip.

Clark pulls away to let out a rough whimper, raspy and breathy, his forehead scrunching up with the way you jerk him softly through his boxers. The sound makes you feel hotter, urging you to ruin him even more.

The two of you separate for a brief moment, Clark's hands immediately moving to take off his white shirt, already holding the hem when you put your hand over his. You shake your head, smirking.

"Shirt stays on, handsome," you wink at him, leaning down to kiss the firm center of his chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

Clark throws his head back, grunting. You take the moment to hop off of his lap and pull his jeans just past down his knees. Clark helping you out to quicken the process, now equally as aroused as you are… probably even more.

His boxers tent shamelessly, the thin piece of blue fabric failing to hide the outline of his dick as you make out a darker colored blue right at the tip. Your mouth waters at the thought of his cock leaking just for you.

You pull down the waistband of his boxers, completely captivated at the way his cock proudly stands up, just barely hitting past your lips. The ridiculous size of it has you clenching your legs together, doing your best to fight the urge to just take him right then and there.

However, you had other plans, some that supersedes the ache between your thighs… like making sure Clark Kent remembers never to wear a white shirt when you're coming over.

His cock twitches on its own, the tip pulsing with an angry shade of red. It was so hard, you swore it looked like hurt. And for Clark, it actually did—even more so when you stare at it like it's the only thing you ever wanted. His hips move impatiently, Clark doing his best to stop himself from grabbing you and doing the job himself.

Finally, your hand cautiously grabs his shaft, involuntarily licking your lips at you began jerking it off, testing the waters as you flicked your eyes up to your boyfriend.

Clark's barely hanging on. His mind is going dizzier and dizzier by the second. Feeling his sanity hang by a single thread now that you're starting to move your hand even faster. Trying to hold in the moan in his throat when you put your lips around his tip, rolling your tongue around the fat head of his cock.

The salty taste of his pre-cum made you sigh contentedly, the vibration in your mouth making him twitch.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," you rasp, holding out your tongue to lick one thick stripe on the underside of his cock. Making sure you keep your eyes locked with his, not letting him miss a single moment of your version of heaven-on-earth.

"Oh God," Clark groans, now slightly high-pitched. His eyebrows furrowing upwards, lips falling apart.

He stays there, incapable of looking away from you as your tongue began slobbering all over his cock. Tasting and tracing every vein that trail from it, like an artist mimicking lines for their piece.

You take him in your mouth, slowly and deliberately, making sure to breathe through your nose as you already feel him at the back of your throat, lips stretched to the max as you did your best to take him in, both in length and in girth.

Clark's cock is only halfway inside of your mouth when you gag, the tip hitting the back of your throat making you swallow involuntarily. His hips jerk up, chasing after the tightness of your throat as the sound finally escapes his mouth.

The sound. The whimper.

It was brief, quiet, and subtle, you wouldn't have caught it any other day but fortunately today wasn't those days. The sound makes your insides swell as Clark finally falls back on steps defeatedly. His arms stretching to the back of his head, his biceps spilling out of the sleeves of his shirt, the thought of the fabric ripping because of it making you even more motivated.

You pull off his cock with a loud breath, gasping like you had just been submerged underwater way longer than you should have been. Your hand moves up and down the remainder of his cock—the part you didn't manage to suck—your other hand coming to your lips as you spat on it loudly.

A grin comes onto your lips, Clark's eyes rolling to the back of his head when he watches you rub your spit all over his cock. Making sure every inch of him is covered by you.

You put him back in your mouth, this time having an easier time fitting him in. When you began bobbing your head up and down his cock, tongue licking the shaft, Clark's unable to control his moans. Whimpers and whines spilling from his mouth, clearly trying to use whatever sanity he has to manage the volume of his sounds.

You don't want him to, though. You want him utterly wrecked, broken, head too deep in the pleasure to even worry about who hears his beautiful sounds.

"Fuck, baby—oh god, that's…" Your sudden hand on his balls has him moving uncontrollably. Clark pulling himself up to prop on his elbows, lips red from biting it over and over again, his lust-blown eyes staring at where your hand fondled with him.

He drops his head back, feeling you swallow around his cock. One hand stroking him event faster, the other massaging his balls. Everything around him begins to blur as he slowly loses the reins of his mind.

You let him thrust inside of your mouth, keeping your breath going through your nose, letting him hear the loud and dirty sound of your gagging.

"O-oh!" He gasps loudly, eyes closing shut when you moan around his cock. Slipping off for a second to run your tongue over his bails, popping each one in your mouth before taking his cock back in. "Fuck, that feels so good baby. Don't—mhmm—don't stop, baby, please, right there."

You don't stop the smile that tries to come on your lips, every time your name slips from his mouth is like an angel whispering to you the greatest of songs.

Clark's control disappears. Abandoning his care for anything else besides you on his cock.

You do a quick motion to pull his shirt back just a bit, giving yourself some eye candy—his sweaty abs flexing—as you hurriedly try to push him off the ledge.

Clark grabs the hem of his shirt, almost pulling off his white shirt when you stop him. "I said it stays on, handsome."

He groans, dropping the fabric from his hands and putting them on either side of your head. The moment he does, you know he's got nothing else on his mind now aside from getting himself off.

Clark begins to chase after his own release. Hips thrusting into your mouth with a roughness that has you stuck on the spot. Eyes watching every strain of muscle in his features. His cock hits the back of your throat multiple times but you didn't care. Not even a bit.

All you cared about, at the moment, was letting him finish himself, letting out every bit of frustration he has about the world inside the warm inside of your lips.

"There, shit—nnghf, fuck, stay like that baby," Clark says, whiney and breathy. Pleas of your name falling endlessly.

He feels the coil in his lower stomach twist even harder. The familiar white spots appearing in his vision as he clenches his teeth together, doing his best to tip himself off the edge without accidentally hurting you.

When your fingers tighten around the base of his cock, just enough to give him mind-dizzying pressure, he looks down. Your eyes locking with his in the most erotic way you could. Then he lets go.

Clark's lips split open to let out one of the deepest groan you ever heard from him. Ropes of his cum coating the inside of your mouth as he rides out his high, grunting and whimpering every time his dick touched the softness of your cheeks.

"Shit, that was… Oh fuck," he sighs, slowly coming back down to Earth as he looks around.

You grin at him, holding your tongue out to show him his masterpiece. "Baby." he says, running his hands through his hair as the aftershocks of his orgasm still made his thighs clench.

You swallow his cum without a question. Throwing your hair to the side as you shifted in your place, peeling off your panties from underneath your skirt.

Clark smirks lazily, thinking he knows what comes next.

Unfortunately for him, you weren't done yet.

You throw your panty over to him, Clark catching it with ease before he holds it close to his face, just enough to get a whiff of your wetness on it. His eyes darkening the moment he sees it absolutely drenched.

"You did so good for me, handsome," you purr, coming on top of him to nip at the neckline of his shirt. Licking the beads of sweat twinkling down his neck. The salty taste of the liquid making you hum contentedly. "So fucking good."

"Let me take care of you now, sweets. Must be so drenched for me, huh?" Clark tries to slide off your top, running his hands all over your sides.

You chuckle, the glint in your eyes telling him something different. "I'm not done with you yet, baby. Just relax for me, m'kay?"

You sit back up, sitting on top of his thighs, your skirt bunched around your hips to give Clark a sight of what's happening to you underneath that composed facade of yours.

Clark watches you with anticipation, tongue coming out to lick his lips as he tries to prop himself up with his elbows again.

"H-hey!" Clark stutters, eyes widening when your hands grab his cock again. It was still hard, leaking, and even aching. You're not sure just one release gets the job done. "Sweets, I just came…" he breathes, voice cautiously low. "It's your turn now, c'mon. Let me take care of you." He tries to pull you up from your position, maybe even have you sit on his face as a way to return the favor.

You don't budge though. You slap his hand away with your free one, leaning down to put your face beside his cock. The lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out your palm paired with the subtle tingles of overstimulation, and your erotic eyes, it gets the same fire inside of him burning again.

"Just give me one more, Clark. One more and I'll let you take me," you pause, tilting your head to his cock, spitting on it loudly, "…however you want."

Clark glares at you, jaw clenched and body tense, his eyes holding a sense of determination that tells you he's not turning down your offer.

A proud smile comes on your lips, giving the base of his cock one kiss before you start jerking him off. Using your spit and his pre-cum to slide it smoothly. You use both of your hands now, one at the top focusing on his tip, while the other moved up and down his length.

"Mhfm," Clark groaned, his tip being too sensitive right now. His face getting warmer by the second, body clenching uncontrollably. "B-baby, it's… oh… fuck."

"Yeah?" You raise an eyebrow, taking your hands off abruptly making him thrust upwards into nothing.

He looks at you wide-eyed, shocked and confused. You only chuckle at him, slowly placing your hand by his face, open palm by his mouth. Clark stares at you, awaiting your word.

"Spit." Clark gathers up his saliva for a second before spitting it all in your hand.

You smile, thanking him sweetly before you went back to your position. Letting the feeling in his stomach subside before placing your hands back. The hand with his spit placed over his tip, swirling his own liquid around the engorged head.

It was right then did Clark understand how fucked he was. How fucking dirty all of this is.

Worst of it all, he can't even do anything. He's fully at your mercy. Having to take everything you're giving to him without a complaint.

You find your pace, wasting no time to finally get that second release you desperately wanted from him.

Clark doesn't fight it anymore. He lets out every groan, whimper, and moan he has in him. Your name being at the top of the his lungs as he continuously called out for you, begging and pleading to let him come.

"Please, baby, I'm—I'm almost there baby."

"You gonna come f'me?" You tease, batting your eyelashes innocently.

"Uh-huh, keep going," Clark nods repeatedly, his features scrunching up as he feels it start to hurt, start to tingle. Somewhere between the pain and pleasure of the overwhelming sensation—that's where he is. Almost at the top. "Yes, baby, just like that."

You decide not to torture him even more, letting him have his release as you continued to move your hands with a faster pace. The sounds of his cries slowly getting louder.

Then, you hear a voice downstairs.

"Clark? You there sweetheart?" Martha Kent.

His eyes shoot open, hand immediately slapping over his mouth to stop his own moans. He looks to you with panic, but you only smile wider.

"I've finished baking!" Martha called again. Apparently she's been looking for you as well. "When you find her, head to the kitchen, alright? I tried a new recipe for my muffins, try 'em out."

You swiftly, and carefully, move to his ear, whispering: "Answer her."

He shakes his head, "No," he says quietly.

"Now," you say, dropping one hand from his length to his balls.

Clark's eyes roll back, taking his hand off of his mouth. "Y-yeah, mom, we'll check… check it out in a bit!"

His voice was shaky, but you applaud him from even trying. Staring at him proudly, stars dancing in your eyes as you hear Martha's great! see you! in the back, footsteps slowly disappearing.

Clark releases all over your hand the moment you sit back on his thighs, wet slit touching his bare thigh. An aching and almost painful groan ripped away from his throat as more strings of cum shoot out of his cock. Generously falling down the tip and onto the base.

Clark's breathing heavily now. Chest moving up and down after what felt to be like the last orgasm in his lifeline. It was so strong—so intense, he couldn't even wrap his head around what just happened.

Why you were still smiling at him as your tongue licked up the cum dripping on his length, as if you didn't just swallow it minutes ago.

You clean him up, his cock finally softening just a bit in your hold. You move up to him, resting your chin on chest. "You’re so pretty."

Clark's weak scoff enters your ear. Arm weakly wrapping around your back. "Have I been neglecting you or what?"

You laugh at him, kissing his lips lightly. "Never stop wearing white shirts."

When you start rolling away to get up, Clark tightens his hold on you.

"Oh, baby," he shakes his head, tongue poking at his cheek. "You're not getting off that easily. Up the loft, c'mon. It's my turn."

hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

[sbwifey]

fucccccckkkkk

[ssscytale]

love child

bombsight/f!reader/soldier boy (req)

SUMMARY both soldier boy and bombsight seem to be competing for your affection, but only one of them makes you really weak at the knees CWS smut, vaginal fingering, unsafe sex, sex with two different people (not at the same time), 1950s setting, supe!reader, testing (early compound v), blood, near death experiences, spoiler! reader chooses bombsight WC 4.1k

who would be art and who would be patrick in a challengers situation? lmk

The amount of hairspray that you had in your hair should be considered an obscenity of some kind, but you didn’t have much say in the matter if you wanted to present yourself well at work.

Everything was so new and experimental at Vought. You were brought on as an assistant, but had in your agreement that you would be given Compound when they had a replacement lined up for you, ‘just in case’. That alone should have deterred you from the project, but some part of you figured that you weren’t actually going to be given Compound V after working for the company for a month. They probably could have found someone rather easily within that period of time to replace you, but they didn’t.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want the experimental drug, because you did. The entire reason you were on the company’s radar was that you had signed up for it, but they decided that they had a better, more temporary use for you.

You weren’t upset about it, anyway. You couldn’t be. Not when you had made friends with some of the people you were working with.

Mainly, you had made friends with Bombsight, or Robbie, though he tended to be okay with either. He was your favorite out of the group of new Supes. He was easily one of the most attractive people you had met before, and he always seemed to have a way of keeping you entertained. He talked to you before anyone else did, even though you were just there to take the coffee order of everyone in the room. He took the time to make you laugh, even though he really didn’t have to.

From what you had gathered about him, he at the very least knew that he was good-looking. But he wasn’t in your face about it, even if that was true. He didn’t sit around, making it clear that he knew that half of the people in the room were going to turn and stare at him whenever he walked in. Though he did seem to be at least somewhat aware that you found it rather distracting when he sat with his legs wide open half of the time. But you didn’t let on that much, and you didn’t see much of a purpose in doing so, anyway. You wanted to, but you sort of worked for him, and he seemed to respect the fact that this entire thing was very new. Vought, the company having assistants and superheroes. The last thing that anyone needed was him misreading the signals that you’re putting down and getting the company sued before it could even really get off the ground.

Another Supe on the new team, Soldier Boy (or Ben, either worked, he claimed), didn’t have a single problem with flirting with you in front of everyone. You knew that he was flirting; anyone with a pair of eyes knew that he was flirting. They knew that he was staring right at your chest when you happened to bend over enough that skin could be exposed if you weren’t so keen on wearing undershirts. Everyone knew that he started at your legs, and your hips, and your ass when you were doing just about anything in the same room as him. He made it no secret that he was interested in you, but you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive; it was quite the opposite. He was a good-looking guy, and he knew it better than anyone did. But he also seemed to have other people who had caught his eye. He was a clean-cut player. He got around, and he got around with other people whom you worked with, like Liberty. You knew that he didn’t mind sleeping with anyone or anything, and that made it difficult for you to deal with the teasing and the flirting. Because the thing was, you’d never call it harassment.

If you really wanted him to stop, he would. You doubted that he’d even tell anyone if you confronted him. He could be a bit intimidating, but he didn’t seem like the type to fuck you over for telling him no. You got jittery when he touched you, you felt something in your stomach and between your thighs when he got too close to you, and sometimes things got a little bit out of hand. Or, really, one time things got a little bit out of hand, and every other time things were pretty under control.

You just remembered that you had been standing in front of a window, looking out into the city by yourself. You’d never worked in a building like the one that you were working in, not really. You had office jobs before, sure, but nothing like this. The scale that was going into making sure that everything was perfect was something that you had never seen in person before, and something that you weren’t sure if you would ever see again.

It almost made you feel important to be able to look into the city like this, knowing that Supes were the talk of the town and that you were in line to get injected too. Truthfully, you might die if you did. There were only five people who had been injected and lived to tell the tale, and a part of you wasn’t sure why you were even counting down the days until they told you that it was coming. You weren’t sure that you wanted it to come.

The thought had been stressing you out enough that when Soldier Boy came into the room, when he flirted with you and stood so close behind you that his chest was pressed against your back, you couldn’t help the way that you leaned into it. The way that your ass pressed against his hips, or the way that you let his hands rest on your waist for just a moment before one of them inched between your thighs.

Everything else had been a blur. You remembered being pressed against a bookshelf in the study that you were in. You remembered the way that his lips felt on your neck and the way that he felt inside of you. But you also remembered that you realized, pretty succinctly, afterwards, that you didn’t have half as much interest in him as you had in Bombsight. Soldier Boy was good in bed; he knew how to please a woman, and he knew how to keep you interested. He even cleaned you up afterwards and made sure that you were okay. But there was just some emotion in you that was missing, something that you were quite sure that you would have felt if you had been with Bombsight instead.

How would you know, though? You hadn’t been with Bombsight, and you weren’t sure if he was going to give you the chance, even though he had lightly flirted with you when he had the opportunity to do so.

Things changed, though. Faster than you would have liked, too.

You’d anticipated that maybe, someday, someone would come to you and remind you that you had signed up to be tested on, too. That they were working on finding a replacement just in case. Or, really, no matter what. If it worked and you lived, you would probably take on a different role in the company. But if it didn’t work and you died, then you were just going to have to be replaced anyway. It didn’t make much of a difference. No matter what, that day didn’t seem like it would ever come, but after two months, it did.

The memory of being injected with Compound V was something that was gone the moment it happened. You somewhat remembered that Bombsight was there, that he was the one person they allowed to be with you when it happened because he was the first one to ask. You knew that, if you were to die, you didn’t much like the last image that he would have of you, but you figured that you would rather be with him than be alone or be with anyone else. But if he held you or stayed awkwardly in the corner, you would never remember.

The injection seemed to fry that part of your memory.

When you woke up, your entire face was covered in blood. There was blood clotted along your cheeks and your lips from where you had probably been coughing, and someone was in the process of cleaning it up. But you were alive, and that much seemed to be a shock to them.

“Y-oh my God.” Bombsight was beside you the moment that your face was cleaned up, his glove coming off so he could feel your neck, right below your jawline. “I don’t understand. She still has no pulse.”

“You thought I was dead?”

“You have no pulse.”

Right. That makes sense.

“It could be a side effect of whatever power she got, sir.”

It was, you’d come to find out rather quickly. You had a pulse, your heart was beating, but no one could feel it. It was like there was an impenetrable barrier around your vulnerabilities that was being protected. You were stronger than before, much stronger, and you were better with weapons that you had certainly never trained with. It seemed like it gave you talents more than it gave you straightforward powers, but you weren’t too offended by that. It made the next step in Vought’s position for you to make more sense, anyway.

If you had something harmless, being told that you were a secret weapon would make no sense. You wouldn’t wear a cool outfit like the other Supes, nor would you be in the public eye like them. To anyone else, you would just appear as an upper-level employee at the company. You were business-savvy, so they could genuinely use you in those areas. But you would handle grittier work, the type of work that would typically be assigned to a bald man in a suit with leather gloves and a suitcase. Someone who no one would suspect could easily overpower them, but could.

But that meant that you weren’t an assistant anymore, and that meant that you were essentially equals with the man who had chosen to be with you when you took the injection in the first place. The shift had been palpable within him, but that also meant that it was palpable with Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy, with whom you had sex with two weeks ago, and it felt like they were in some sort of silent competition that you wanted no part in. Bombsight had no qualms with being with you now, at the very least, he had fewer qualms with expressing it out of fear that he’d upset you, since you were more on an equal playing field.

But Soldier Boy never had any issue with expressing himself, and Soldier Boy had no issue with expressing that he wanted to fuck you again. You, however, were rather aware that you preferred Bombsight. You knew that from the moment you’d been intimate with Soldier Boy, and you weren’t sure how to tell him that. What if you were being presumptuous and Bombsight didn’t want that? What if he was just a nice guy and you thought he was hitting on you when he wasn’t? Plus, you weren’t afraid of Soldier Boy, but you had never been good at doing things that you knew might hurt someone’s feelings.

And yet? You were well aware of what you wanted. You didn’t need to listen to them bicker with each other or have Private Angel and Torpedo remind you that they’re both clearly vying for your attention to realize that. They were both flirting, but you really only wanted one of them. It was Private Angel who eventually got you to actually admit that, and Private Angel who sent Bombsight your way with all of that information to finally (hopefully) stop the bickering and pining that has been going on for as long as she’s known you.

“How’s… this? What is this, actually?”

Your attention was diverted from the papers that you were working on. It was a speech that was being planned for Soldier Boy to give in a few days' time with Liberty, something that you knew was incredibly important to the company and its image. But it also needed to be planned just right. You would be there, and the company knew that a party interested in dismantling Supes would be there as well. There needed to be a big enough diversion in the speech to feel natural and not incite conspiracy, but enough that people wouldn’t notice if you took the party at interest out during the speech.

“A speech, nothing. You’ll see in a few days.” You shrugged it off, leaning back to sit up straight when Bombsight approached you. “Business as usual.”

“Another defector?”

“Something like that, yeah. Disgruntled guy who got rejected for the trials, says that he was denied his ‘fair shake’ at being a Supe when his DNA didn’t align with Compound V. Guess he’d rather die than be told no.”

“Mm.”

Bombsight usually talked a bit more, and he almost always had something more to add to conversations. But right now, he was eerily quiet, and it wasn’t something that you were used to. You watched him with your eyes squinted a bit as he pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. His legs were spread enough that you were watching him quite clearly, but you could swear that there was more of a bulge in his pants than normal.

“You can keep writing.”

“But you’re here, maybe I wanna talk to you.”

“Maybe I want you to keep writing.”

“But-”

“Please?”

“Fine, Robbie.” You huffed as you leaned back down to keep writing, but after you got a paragraph or so done, you could feel one of his hands on your arm. You watched the way that his fingers grazed delicately against the cotton button-down’s sleeve. The way that he undid the button at the wrist was just so his fingers could brush against your arm. He was doing it on purpose, touching you just to get a rise out of you. But he was sitting closer, too. His leg brushes against your thigh, his chin moving to rest on your shoulder. “You’re far.”

“What?” He paused when you spoke, almost sure that he misunderstood you. But you understood what was happening here. Private Angel had done you a favor, and you were getting what you wanted. You weren’t going to let that pass you by, especially since it took two to tango.

“You’re sitting too far away.”

Your eyes met his when you let your pen fall.

“How close would you suggest I sit?”

“I don’t know, maybe we could share a chair?”

He pretended to think about it for a moment before you were both shuffling. He was in your chair, his hands on your hips, and pulling you down to sit on his lap. You were seated rather comfortably against him after a moment, before you picked up your pen and started writing again. But he was kissing your neck the moment that you were writing, and you were really trying to keep up the ruse that you were still invested in the speech and not rather wet and pressed up against him.

“Did he hold you like this?”

So he knew that, too.

“Not really, no.”

“Did you think about me?” His tongue dragged against your skin when he asked that, and you were certain that you almost felt your soul leave your body when he nipped at your neck.

“Yes, I thought about you.”

“Did you wish it was me?”

Bombsight was getting bolder, you noted. He had removed his gloves and placed them on the desk, one of his hands cupping yours so he could make sure that you were still working. His other hand was pressed on your inner thigh, his fingers trailing past your lace garters before pressing lightly against the dampness that was coating the center of your panties.

“I did-I-” You were certain that your brain short-circuited when he pushed his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties, his middle finger sliding through the slickness of your folds. He moaned against your neck, and some part of you knew that no one else could ever make you feel this way. “Tho-thought about you, I wished it was you. I wanted it to be you so bad, and I-after-all I co-ould think about was you.”

“I bet.”

Admittedly, he seemed a bit distracted. He did have two fingers inside of you, though, so you weren’t shocked that his mind wasn’t entirely thinking about whether or not you thought about him when you were with someone else. But he did take your pen out of your hand, urging you to relax against him. The moment he did, you leaned back against him. Your head pressed into his shoulder, your lips parted as a soft sigh left your lips.

“Robbie-”

“Mhm?”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

His fingers moved a bit quicker, pushing deeply inside of you and curling just where you needed them. You could feel his thumb brush upwards to press circles into your clit. The pressure was just enough to make you squirm but not enough to feel overstimulating. He seemed to know just how to make you feel good, and he must have known it, given the obscene sounds that were leaving your lips as your body pressed back against his.

Bombsight’s lips were pressed against your neck again, muffling his quiet moans as your hips slowly ground against his bulge on instinct. Everything he did made you squirm, and that made you brush up against him. He was just as much of a wreck as you were, and that was definitely saying something.

He held you through it, though. Keeping you close while his fingers worked inside of you until your pussy clenched around them. His grip was rather tight as you cried out softly, trying to keep yourself from making too much noise that it would draw anyone’s attention, but knowing, too, that there was a part of you that didn’t mind too much if anyone heard.

It wasn’t until you came down from it enough to pay attention to your surroundings that you noticed that he was kissing your neck again. Though he did seem a bit surprised when your hands moved underneath you so you could undo the belt on his pants.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, though.” You responded, turning back to face him. His cheeks were a little flushed, his lips parted and somewhat wet. But his blue eyes were blown out, all dark, his blond hair a bit of a mess. He looked good, but he looked good every single time that you looked at him, so you weren’t too surprised. “Do you want to? I only want to if you do.”

There was a small bit of your brain reminding you that you needed to be careful with this - there were certain things that were considered polite and impolite in society, and having sex with someone like this was certainly not considered to be polite. But he had just fingered you, so you figured that some of those manners that you were brought up on weren’t in the picture anymore. Really, they had probably flown out of the window the moment that you sat down on his lap.

“I do- God, I do.”

The smile that covered your lips was a bit infectious, but neither of you focused on it for too long. Bombsight worked on his pants rather quickly, while you took your damp panties off so you weren’t just trying to keep them out of the way while you were together. But that was taken care of soon enough, and when he was inside of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you hadn’t done this sooner.

Your hips moved slowly against his at first, taking him deeper than you had anticipated in the first move, but getting used to it in the long-run. His body felt like it melded against yours perfectly, his hands finding your hips and holding you to him while your soft moans filled the room. But you tried to keep quiet, mainly. Not just because there was a risk of people hearing you, but because you really, really wanted to hear the noises that were coming out of his lips. You’d heard him make little noises here and there before. Mainly, whenever he got hurt in some way, nothing that you were overtly getting off to. But this was different. He was moaning because he was inside of you, and he was doing it so close to your ear that it would have been impossible to miss.

One of his hands moved to the front of you, pressing you back tighter against him when you started to move faster. Your head was pressed back against him, resting right at his collarbone, while you leaned into him. Your eyes were rolled back just a bit, though you bit down into your inner cheek to avoid making a noise that was too loud when you felt him hit just the right spot inside of you.

Everything felt like it was slow and fast at the same time. You were with him, you were moving with him, and you could feel him inside of you over and over again, and that was all that mattered. You weren’t really sure how long it went on before you both finished; all you really knew was that, at some point, you’d both ended up slouched against the desk with one of his hands gripping your hips so tightly that it may have hurt if you felt pain in the same way that a human did still.

Bombsight was as careful about cleaning up as he was about anything else. He kept you close while he cleaned you up before setting you down in the chair that he had been sitting on. But you stopped him when he went to put his gloves back on, taking hold of one of his hands and tugging yourself up on moderately shaky legs so you could meet him in the middle.

“Don’t run off.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

He stopped, though. His hands found your shoulders to stabilize you when he realized that you had been a little shaky standing up. But Bombsight didn’t run off, even though some part of him seemed to want to.

“It should have been you from the beginning, anyway.” Your voice was so quiet that it was probably easy to miss. But he was so close to you, there was no way that he missed anything that was coming out of your mouth. “I just figured- it just felt like-”

“I get it, it’s… complicated.”

“Yeah.”

His eyes averted to your mouth, and you realized for perhaps the first time since he came in here that he’d kissed your skin but not your mouth. You wondered what his lips tasted like, what he would feel like pressed even closer against you. It didn’t really seem like you needed to wonder for long when one hand slowly moved to your face. One of you closed the distance, and it really didn’t matter which one. But someone did, and all you could really think about was how good he was at kissing you. He was good at everything, and it was almost insufferable, but you had your fingers tangled in his hand and tugging him closer before you could really spend too much time thinking about that.

“The fuck did they put in your hair to get it so stiff?” You teased, breaking a bit of the tension when he pulled back. His smile was adorable, the dimples in his cheeks making you feel weak at the knees in all the ways that you figured he was supposed to.

“The same stuff they put in your hair, don’t be a hypocrite.” He wasn’t wrong, especially given how stiff your hair was when he twirled it around his finger. “We should go wash it out together.”

Now you were smiling wide, your hands finding his again. “Oh, definitely. I can finish that speech later.” Your hands were within his in a moment, laughing when he urged you out of the room with him. It should have been him from the beginning; it always really was, you just weren’t sure if he was much of an option. But it didn’t really matter - you had him now, and you had no intention of letting go.

[sbwifey]

I need them both asap

[sbwifey]

Oh my fucking heaven I'm not gonna survive Vought Rising🫠🤤🥵

[sbwifey]

What happened at PurCon Jen/Mish panel was not okay.

If you ship Destiel, fine. But remember, it is FAN FICTION. It is not canon. So stop being disrespectful & rude to Jensen. You're NOT a fan if you're gonna be an asshole to the man who played Dean for 15 fucking years.

This is exactly why I can't fucking stand Destiel nor will I ever ship it.

Also, wtf was up with some of the shit Misha said at that panel too? Gross.

And if you're one of the fucks who are disrespecting Jensen, calling him homophobic, or even anyone who was at the con who apparently booed him, how fucking dare you? Jensen is literally one of the nicest guys on the planet. Just because he doesn't feed into your delusions doesn't mean he deserves hate.

Destiel is NOT canon. Jensen does not like it. So stop making the man uncomfortable by bringing it up.

End rant.

[sbwifey]

oh i need Vought Rising NOW.

[salingers]

i block ageless blogs and minors; do not interact. to open and view p.links, use your twitter account.

cw: missionary.

⟢ an early, sleepy morning where clark’s mouthing your tit.

⟢ clark drilling you.

⟢ clark’s supersized…

⟢ pussy sliding and underwear-on teasing, with clark.

cw: oral.

⟢ clark throat-fucking you.

⟢ smallville!clark eating your cunt.

⟢ two, whole minutes of clark worshipping your breast.

cw: riding.

⟢ clark breeding you. woc-friendly.

⟢ creaming on clark. woc-friendly.

⟢ during broad daylight and in the backseat, with clark.

⟢ overstimulated, on clark’s lap and fingers.

⟢ riding smallville!clark’s clothed bulge, until you squirt.

⟢ you and clark’s size difference... woc-friendly.

cw: solo.

⟢ clark, at work and touching himself, using your toy.

⟢ sexting, with smallville!clark.

cw: standing.

⟢ gravity pulling clark’s cum from you.

⟢ rough pounding, while clark’s lifting you. woc-friendly.

[deancainz]

dean winchester!p links | mdni

—

riding his thigh in the deancave while he watches tv

sleepy dean still needing to feel your pussy around him

playing with his favourite pussy

fucking in someone else’s bathroom when you’re supposed to be investigating

he loves having you needy on his lap

cumming between your thighs

dicking you down after a long hunt

[godmadeaterribleerror]

✦dummy✦

✧･ﾟ:You like to think of yourself as smart. Progressive. Independent. You don’t need a man, and you’re certainly no pushover.

✧･ﾟ:Except when Dean’s got you on his cock. Then you turn into a whining, glossy-eyes mess that can’t string together more than a shameless moan and whine of his name.

✧･ﾟ:And who could blame you, when he fucks you so well. Being strong isn’t your job when Dean’s got you pinned to the bed with a single hand, fingers splayed possessively over your tummy as he tongue-fucks you stupid. He moans against your pussy and sucks your clit between his lips,  rubbing your thigh to coax you through every orgasm. Your release gushes over his face and he almost purrs, pushing your legs up to keep devouring your shaking cunt.

✧･ﾟ:When he’s satisfied with the taste of you—which can take hours, if he’s allowed the time—he slides himself into your dripping channel, groaning as you squeeze and flutter around his massive cock.

✧･ﾟ:“So fuckin’ tight, baby.” He always moaned, drunk on how you take him, how you melt like putty under his touch and watch him like he’s a living god. “That’s my girl, always so ready to take this cock, all stupid and pretty for me.”

✧･ﾟ:You whimper, because you are. It doesn’t matter if he fucks you like and animal or taunts you with slow, long strokes of his thickness. The stretch and pleasure always renders you speechless. His touch consumes you so greatly, every word feels far away.

✧･ﾟ:Cries of "Dean" are all you can manage. He drinks them up like wine, pushing deep enough into you that every nerve in your body lights up. You’re a living firework of shivers and moans.

✧･ﾟ:Dean groans praise, and you cum on his cock again and again, until you’re boneless and dazed. He fucks you through his own orgasm, then a little more after. Just to watch his pretty girl drool.

✧･ﾟ:“That’s right.” He coos. “Use that smart mouth for me, say my name.”

✧･ﾟ:He knows you can only whine and gasp. He loves watching you drool and cry with pleasure, knowing he’s fucked you so good there’s not a thought left in your head.

✧･ﾟ:“My pretty girl.” He murmurs after, still buried inside you long after you’re done. “So dumb, just for me.”

✧･ﾟ:Just for him. Never for anyone else, but Dean.

✦Dean Masterlist - Main Masterlist - read on AO3!✦

✦Author's Note: short one this week. i'm planning something rn and it's taking much time✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦