[shangchiswife]

my masterlist!

a lot of you have been asking for a masterlist so here you go!

The Last of Us:

joel miller- the babysitter - part 1- part 2 (smut)

joel miller- pretty pink skirt (smut)

joel miller- sweet nothing

Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit:

dating aragorn headcanons!

dating thorin headcanons!

big back challenge ft. y/n, thorin, fili, and kili

scary thorin ft. y/n and thorin

Star Wars:

luke skywalker- paper rings

luke skywalker- you're scared of thunder?

luke skywalker- sunsets

han solo- the one where he f's up

anakin/obi-wan/padme- period

Anakin Skywalker-

anakin skywalker- pacify her (smut)

anakin skywalker- broken promises (smut)

anakin skywalker- wildest dreams

Obi-Wan Kenobi-

obi-wan- the way i loved you (smut)

obi-wan- party blues

obi-wan- sweet dreams

obi-wan- savior complex

obi-wan- drunken love

obi-wan- better man

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo-

kylo ren- jealousy (smut)

kylo ren- therapy

kylo ren- cardigan

kylo ren- safe space

kylo ren- the last time

ben solo- i guess this is goodbye

Poe Dameron-

poe dameron- yule ball

poe dameron- traitor

poe dameron- nightmare

poe dameron- the other woman

poe dameron- clean

Armitage Hux-

hux- good little girl

hux- long drunk nights

Din Djarin-

din djarin- helping hand (smut)

din djarin- every dead-end street led you straight to me (smut)

din djarin- maroon

din djarin- caretaker

din djarin- family ties

din djarin- savior complex

din djarin- the protector

din djarin- you are in love

din djarin- nightmares

DC:

lex luthor- all mine (smut)

lex luthor- the intern (smut)

lex luthor- made to obey (smut)

lex luthor- write about this (smut)

clark kent- and they were roommates (smut)

clark kent- the first to fight

clark kent- the letter

Gravity Falls:

stanford pines- only you

Super Mario:

luigi- sick day

Stranger Things:

henry creel- good little wife (smut)

henry creel- nothing happened (smut)

X-Men:

logan howlett- electric touch (smut)

logan howlett- little black dress (smut)

logan howlett- a royal tea party

Marvel:

steve rogers- sparks fly

steve rogers- beach day

pietro maximoff- saying goodbye

Loki-

loki- mr. perfectly fine

loki- speechless

loki- if only you knew

loki- an escape from the palace

Bucky Barnes-

bucky barnes- a brief intermission (smut)

bucky barnes- sweeter than pie (smut)

bucky barnes- deja vu

Moonknight-

steven grant- late night talking

steven grant- hug me

marc spector- dancing with out hands tied

Spider-man-

miguel o'hara- stress relief (smut)

peter parker- a night under the stars

peter parker- i wish i were heather

otto octavius- merry christmas

harry osborn- hide and seek

tasm!peter/reader/otto- we'll take care of you

Norman Osborn-

norman osborn- dark paradise

norman osborn- they don't know about us

norman osborn- baby it's cold outside

norman osborn- i'm pregnant

norman osborn- look after you

norman osborn- let the games begin

norman osborn- i'm yours

norman osborn- worst behavior

norman osborn- experimental game

Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius-

otto octavius/norman osborn- skating

otto octavius/norman osborn- the moment i knew

otto octavius/norman osborn- save me

otto octavius/norman osborn- hostage

[shangchiswife]

kylo ren- jealousy

summary: after general hux flirts with you, kylo ren finally reaches his breaking point

kylo ren x shy fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 3089

....

Kylo Ren was furious.

From the corner of his eye he saw you speaking with General Hux, his eyes raking over your body while he praised you for your performance as the chief marketing director at the First Order.

You blushed almost immediately, an excited smile spreading across your face.

The worst part was when he started to hear the General's thoughts and how filthy they were.

Pathetic.

Kylo clenched his jaw so tightly it ached.

Hux smiled politely on the outside, speaking about quarterly recruitment numbers and the overwhelming success of your latest campaign. But beneath that carefully composed expression, his thoughts were a mess of admiration and selfish desire.

Every compliment Hux spoke aloud was accompanied by something far less appropriate in his mind.

He imagined brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Wondering how you'd react if he leaned just a little closer.

Whether you'd shy away...

How you’d look down on your knees-

Kylo's grip tightened around the glass in his hand until it broke with a sharp crack.

The sound echoed through the control room and conversations died instantly. Officers at their stations looked up in alarm at the sight of the broken glass.

A lieutenant hurried toward him.

"Supreme Leader?" he asked.

Another officer stepped forward cautiously.

"Is something wrong, Supreme Leader?"

Kylo didn't answer.

He barely even noticed the blood beginning to bead beneath the broken glass in his gloved hand.

His mask was absent, resting somewhere in his quarters, leaving nothing to hide the storm brewing across his face.

His brown eyes remained fixated on you.

You turned at the noise, your brows knitting together as you saw the Supreme Leader.

He was already looking at you.

Not in your direction.

No, straight at you.

His brown eyes were unwavering, sharp enough to make your stomach tighten and a shiver roll down your spine.

For a moment, you simply stared back.

What was that about? you thought, a puzzled expression settling over your face.

He looked...

Upset.

No.

Furious.

You had never seen him look at you like this before.

The two of you had barely even spoken over the past few months.

Every interaction had been brief.

A quiet "Good morning, Supreme Leader." A report handed to him during a meeting. A passing conversation in the corridor before he disappeared without another word.

Yet somehow every single time, you walked away looking like a blushing mess.

You couldn't explain it.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the authority that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Or maybe it was those beautifully intense brown eyes.

At night sometimes you would think about him and touch yourself imagining that it was his strong hands fingering you instead of your own.

Whatever it was, Kylo Ren had always unsettled you in a way no one else ever had.

And now he was staring at you like you'd done something unforgivable.

Before you could think on it further, Hux cleared his throat making you divert your attention back to him. 

"As I was saying," he continued, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "your campaign has been remarkably successful."

You blinked.

"Really?"

"More than really,” the general offered you a smile as he gestured toward his holoscreen displaying recruitment data.

"Applications have increased beyond our projections. Public engagement is the highest it's been in years. Even officers who were skeptical of your appointment have admitted they were wrong."

You couldn't stop the smile spreading across your face.

"That's...wow- I worked really hard on it," you looked down, trying to hide how pleased you were.

"It shows."

Warmth spread through your chest.

Hearing the results was one thing but hearing someone actually acknowledge the work behind them was another.

"You've done more for the First Order's public image in a matter of months than entire departments have managed in years."

You let out a quiet laugh, embarrassed by the attention.

"You're making me blush."

"Good, you deserve the recognition,” he purred.

"Thank you. Wow that... really means a lot." you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Hux held your gaze for a moment.

"You're exceptionally talented and I must admit...you carry yourself with a warmth that's rather uncommon on this ship,” his voice softened as he ran a hand through his ginger hair.

You smiled bashfully as you waved the compliment away.

"I just try to be nice to people, sir,"

"It's one of your better qualities,"

"You're too kind, General," you ducked your head again, another blush creeping across your cheeks.

Hux's eyes lingered on your lips for just a heartbeat longer than they should have before he offered a polite smile.

"I simply believe credit should be given where it's due."

Across the control room, Kylo watched every second of it.

And every second his patience wore thinner.

Then Hux glanced around the control room before taking a small step closer to you.

“There is something I’d like to ask you,”

“What is it, General?” you asked, your eyes meeting his gray ones.

"When your schedule allows...I'd like to take you to dinner."

"Dinner?" your eyes widened in shock.

Out of everything you expected him to say...that was the last thing you thought he’d say.

Heat rushed to your cheeks all over again.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

"I..."

Your mind went completely blank.

Hux's expression remained composed, though now there was a quiet confidence behind it.

"There's no obligation," he said. "I simply thought it would be nice to continue our conversation somewhere a little less... occupied."

You glanced around the bustling control room before looking back at him.

"That's... very kind of you."

You were still trying to think of a response. You honestly didn’t even know what to say.

Before another word could leave your lips you were interrupted.

"General."

The single word echoed through the control room as Kylo Ren strode over to where you and Hux were standing.

The room seemed to fall still the moment he approached. 

The officers who had been pretending to focus on their work only seconds earlier now avoided looking in your direction altogether. Everyone could feel the tension radiating from him, even if they didn't know why.

Kylo stopped beside you, his brown eyes fixed entirely on Hux.

"I need to speak with her."

You glanced between the two men, confused by the sudden interruption.

Hux remained composed.

"Supreme Leader," he said evenly, his eyes not hiding his disgust. "We're in the middle of discussing the latest marketing campaign."

"Your discussion is over."

There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in Kylo's voice.

"With all due respect, I only have one more thing to say." Hux said, holding his ground.

You looked at Hux before turning back to Kylo.

"General..." you said quietly, hoping to ease the growing tension. You knew what happened when people disobeyed Kylo Ren.

Hux ignored the warning in your voice.

"This will only take a moment, Supreme Leader."

Before another word could be spoken, Hux's sentence caught in his throat.

Your eyes widened as his feet were slowly lifted from the floor.

He instinctively reached for his neck, his face tightening as he struggled against the invisible grip closing around his throat.

Panic flooded your chest as you watched the scene in front of you. You had never seen the Supreme Leader this angry and you had seen him very angry quite frequently.

Around the control room, no one moved.

The officers stood frozen, terrified to intervene. A few exchanged nervous glances before quickly looking away, pretending they hadn't seen anything at all.

"Please," you whispered, taking a hesitant step forward.

Kylo didn't even acknowledge you, his face stony as he watched Hux writhe.

"Please stop..." you pleaded, as Kylo’s eyes flitted over to yours for a brief second.

A second later, you heard Hux hit the floor with a heavy cough, his face red.

When you opened your eyes, he was bent over, one hand braced against a nearby console as he fought to catch his breath.

The general took a slow breath before straightening himself as though nothing had happened.

"...Not a problem, Supreme Leader," he said hoarsely. "We can continue this another time."

Before you could ask if he was alright, you felt a firm hand wrap around your forearm.

You looked up and it was Kylo making your heart beat fast.

"Come."

There was no room to argue as he turned without another word, guiding you toward the exit.

You followed, stumbling slightly to keep up with his long strides.

Just before the blast doors closed behind you, you looked back one last time where Hux was still standing right where you'd left him, rubbing at his neck.

Then the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with the very angry Supreme Leader.

You followed him without another word, your heart still racing from what had just happened.

His grip on your arm never loosened.

The officers you passed immediately stepped aside, lowering their heads as the Supreme Leader walked by. A few spared you curious glances before quickly looking away.

The silence between you felt suffocating.

You stole a glance at him.

His stony expression hadn't changed. His jaw was still tight and his eyes were fixed straight ahead.

Whatever had happened back in the control room, he clearly wasn't over it.

"Supreme Leader, sir...where are you taking me?" you swallowed.

He didn't even look at you, he simply kept walking as if you hadn’t said a word.

The only sound in the corridor was the steady rhythm of your footsteps echoing against the metal floor.

Your mind raced with possibilities.

Was he angry about something I did? Did I make a mistake? Was this about the campaign?

You had no idea.

When he finally stopped, you realized you were standing outside his quarters.

The doors slid open with a hiss.

He guided you inside before the doors shut behind you.

You turned toward him, your mind swirling.

"Supreme Leader, I don't underst-"

Before you could finish, he closed the distance between you, pinning you against the wall making you gasp.

He planted one hand against the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you without actually touching you.

You looked up at him, your pulse hammering in your ears.

He was so close.

Close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

His brown eyes searched yours as your lips parted at the close proximity.

"You drive me crazy," he said quietly.

You swallowed, suddenly unable to find the words that had been racing through your mind only moments before.

"I...I didn't know," you started softly, averting your gaze.

“I know,” his voice had lost the anger it carried in the control room, replaced by something far more conflicted. 

"I could hear every disgusting thought going through his head."

His gaze never left yours.

"And you stood there smiling at him because you had no idea,"

Your heart sank.

"I didn't mean to upset you, sir,"

"You didn't."

He shook his head.

"He did."

"I was just being polite," you looked back up at him, your cheeks still pink as your heart hammered in your chest.

"I know you were. That's the problem," he let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face before looking at you again.

His eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse race.

"You're kind to everyone. You smile at everyone. You never stop to think about what people will read into it."

"I... I never wanted to give him the wrong idea," your fingers nervously fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt.

His expression softened just enough for you to notice.

"I know."

The room fell quiet.

Then, almost cautiously, Kylo lifted a gloved hand and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The gesture was so unexpectedly gentle that it made your breath catch.

His thumb lingered against your cheek for the briefest moment.

"So shy," he murmured, his lips twitching.

Your heart skipped.

This clearly wasn't the Supreme Leader everyone feared. This wasn't the cold, distant man who commanded an entire fleet with a single word.

You had imagined what it would be like to be this close to him more times than you cared to admit. None of those daydreams came close to the real thing.

The tenderness in such a simple gesture made your knees feel weak.

You lowered your eyes, suddenly unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

"Look at me,” he said, his voice low.

You slowly lifted your eyes until they met his again.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips. Then back again. As though he was waiting and making sure this was what you wanted.

You didn't step away and barely even breathed.

That was all the answer he needed before he closed the remaining distance and kissed you.

You melted into it almost immediately, your eyes fluttering shut as months of wondering what this would feel like disappeared in an instant. 

His kisses grew more desperate, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your fingers found the soft hair at the back of his head almost instinctively, gently tugging at it.

A low groan escaped him.

"Kylo..." you whispered as you finally broke away, your chest rising and falling as you searched his face.

His forehead rested against yours for the briefest moment, his breathing just as uneven as your own.

"I know," he murmured, his voice rough.

Before you could say another word, his hands slipped carefully beneath your thighs, lifting you with surprising ease until your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

You let out a small gasp, your hands finding his shoulders to steady yourself.

Neither of you looked away.

He carried you to his bed, setting you down with a care that contrasted sharply with the urgency in his eyes.

Then he leaned over you, one arm braced beside your head, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze.

"I've wanted this long before today," you admitted softly.

The tension in his expression eased before he attacked your lips again as your hands immediately found his face.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth which sent an involuntary ripple of heat straight to your core.

Your legs wrapped around him and you could immediately feel how hard he was, making your eyes widen.

“See what you do to me,” he said, making your heart pound hard in your chest as he undid your uniform top and slid your pants down.

Once you were completely exposed to him he stepped back to look at you making you slightly self-conscious.

“Beautiful,” he stated once, putting those concerns to rest before he shed his own clothes.

You gulped as you stared at his sculpted, muscular body. He was huge to say the least.

His cock was thick and already leaking and you were suddenly wondering how it would fit inside of you.

“It will,” Kylo answered, staring at you as he towered over you.

He then swiped a finger through your folds, smearing your juices over you making you let out a loud whine.

“Is all of this for me?” he asked as you nodded slowly.

“Just for you, no one else,”

He smirked at your response, clearly pleased with this answer as his eyes darkened before he lined himself up with your entrance.

You braced yourself for the stretch as he pushed the wet tip of his throbbing cock inside you. 

“So tight,” he hissed as your walls squeezed him.

You whined at the slight pain you felt from the thickness of him as he continued to slide deeper inside you.

“Too big,” you whimpered, your eyes welling up with tears.

You felt his cock twitch inside you at your words.

“You can take it,” he reassured, his brown eyes locked on you before he bottomed out and was fully inside of you.

The pain of him quickly went away and was replaced with pleasure as you gripped his forearms, leaving crescent shaped marks.

“Please,” you looked up at him, begging for him to move.

“Please what?” he asked, clearly toying with you.

This cocky bastard.

He smirked at that.

“Please move. Want you to fuck me. Please,” you urged, squeezing his forearm.

“You know for such a shy, sweet thing you have such a filthy mouth…such filthy thoughts,” he gripped your chin roughly before fulfilling your request and thrusting into you making your nails dig harder into his skin.

“Feels so good,” you arched your back with pleasure as the head of his cock repetitively hit the deepest spot inside you.

“You know I’ve heard you…your thoughts are quite loud when you’re touching yourself at night,” he brought one of his hands to your left breast, kneading it.

You moaned louder at the sudden touch.

“I could hear you screaming my name imagining me doing the most obscene things to you. I don’t think you’re the shy girl that everyone thinks you are,”

You clenched around him at his dirty words.

"Hux could never make you feel this way." Kylo held your gaze. "He was a fool to think he ever could." 

You whimpered as his cock continued to split you open.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You’re mine,” he growled as he grabbed your knees and forced them up to your chest, rutting into you even harder now.

He was so deep inside you could barely breathe.

“I’m so close, Kylo,” your eyes rolled back with pleasure as your thighs started to shake.

“Come for me, sweet thing,” he said as he reached down, his thick fingers flicking over your clit repeatedly until your tight walls clenched around him.

Your mouth fell open as pleasure shot through you in waves making you see stars. 

His release followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he cummed hard inside of you, painting your womb white.

You both breathed hard as you stared at each other.

Then he slowly started rocking his hips into you again making you whimper.

"We're not done yet," His eyes locked onto yours. 

"By the time I'm finished with you, Hux will be the last thing on your mind." 

[shangchiswife]

luigi- sick day

summary: after pushing himself too hard, your husband gets sick, and you spend the day taking care of him

luigi x gn!reader

warnings: none

word count: 1447

....

It had been a long day for Luigi. All day he had been running around doing random tasks for the Mushroom Kingdom alone as today was Mario’s day off with Princess Peach. He was fixing pipes, chasing down strange noises, helping Toads with things that somehow always turned into bigger problems than they should have been.

By the time the sun dipped low and the sky softened into gold, he felt like his legs might give out beneath him.

He almost cried tears of joy when he finally saw the door to your shared home.

Inside, you had been curled up in bed with a book, waiting for your husband, half asleep, the soft glow of the lamp casting warmth across the room.

The second the door burst open, you jolted slightly as Luigi rushed in, breathless, dumping his toolbox on the floor with a loud crash before practically launching himself toward you.

“Luigi!” you yelped, then laughed as he buried himself into your arms like he hadn’t seen you in years.

You stroked his hair beneath his cap, your fingers gentle. 

He didn’t say anything, just clung to you, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“Aww, Lu,” you cooed softly using the nickname he loved so much as you placed a kiss against his forehead.

“Long day?”

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice muffled, exhausted in a way that made your chest ache.

You pulled back slightly and studied him. His blue eyes were tired and his clothes were a mess with dirt and stains everywhere.

 “Okay, no,” you said, a little more firm now, nudging his shoulder.

“You are not getting into bed like that. Go change.” you pointed at the bathroom door.

He blinked at you, still half melted into your arms, his blue eyes pleading.

“But I just got comfortable…”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, not budging. 

“Luigi.”

He sighed, but there was a soft smile tugging at his lips as he pushed himself up.

“Alright...fine bossy,” he said, almost teasing, but there was so much affection in it.

You watched him shuffle to change, shaking your head fondly, then scooted under the covers again, waiting. 

When he came back in his clean pajamas, he didn’t hesitate, and slipped right back beside you and pulled you close.

“Sweetheart,” you murmured softly, your hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently along his skin. “You’re running yourself into the ground like this.”

He let out a quiet breath, eyes already half closed, but he leaned into your touch like he needed it.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, though it lacked any real conviction.

You shook your head slightly, your fingers moving up to smooth his hair beneath his cap before slipping it off completely. “No, you’re not. And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

There was a small pause, and then his arms tightened around you just a little more.

“I just… didn’t want to let anyone down,” he admitted quietly, his voice softer now.

Your expression softened instantly.

You shifted closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You’re allowed to rest, Luigi. The world’s not gonna fall apart if you take one day for yourself.”

He huffed out a faint, tired laugh at that, his grip on you loosening so he could relax more.

“Besides,” you added, your voice teasing but still warm, “your partner would like to actually see you when you’re not half asleep or covered in pipe grease.”

That earned you a small smile, the kind that only showed when he was truly at ease.

“I missed you,” he murmured as he snuggled into his pillow.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, brushing your fingers slowly along his arm. “Now sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”

Within minutes, his breathing slowed, his body finally relaxing fully against yours, and you stayed awake just a little longer, tracing soft patterns against his arm.

The next morning, something felt off immediately.

You stirred, still half asleep, but instead of the usual warmth of Luigi gently holding you or the quiet rustle of him getting ready for the day, you heard a low groan.

Your eyes snapped open instantly at that.

Luigi was beside you, tangled in the sheets, his face flushed, and his brows furrowed in discomfort.

“Luigi?” you whispered, pushing yourself up quickly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I have to go to work,” he mumbled, voice hoarse, barely coherent as he tried to sit up.

You placed a hand against his forehead and your heart dropped. 

“Baby you’re burning up,” your eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“I can’t miss… there’s too much to do,” he insisted weakly, already trying to swing his legs off the bed before you gently but firmly pushed him back down.

“No. Absolutely not,” your voice was sharper now. “You’re not going anywhere.”

His phone started ringing on the nightstand.

It was Mario.

Luigi barely registered it, mumbling something incoherent as he turned his face into the pillow.

You reached over, grabbed the phone, and answered it before it could ring again.

“Hello?”

There was a pause on the other end. “…Uh, hey, where’s Luigi?”

You sat up straighter, your irritation bubbling over. “He’s sick, Mario. Sick. Do you have any idea how hard he’s been working while you’ve been off?”

Another pause.

“He’s been running around doing everything alone, and now he can barely even sit up,” you continued, your voice tight with frustration. “So no, he’s not coming in today.”

“…Oh. I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Mario said, quieter now.

“Well, it is,” you replied, softer but still firm. “And he needs rest today.”

You hung up before anything else could be said, placing the phone back down.

When you turned back, Luigi was looking at you, hazy and unfocused, like he barely knew where he was.

You sighed softly, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead. “You’re staying right here. I’ve got you.”

The rest of the day, you didn’t leave his side.

You brought him water, helped him sit up just enough to drink, cooled his forehead with a damp cloth, and tucked the blankets around him. Every time he stirred, you were there making sure that he wasn’t alone.

At one point, he reached for your hand, gripping it weakly.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled.

Your heart tightened. You squeezed his hand immediately, leaning closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

By the afternoon, he seemed a little more present, his eyes finding yours instead of drifting past you.

“Feeling any better?” you asked, brushing your thumb along his cheek softly.

“A little,” he said quietly, his voice still rough but clearer now.

He hesitated after that, like something was sitting on his mind, and then his fingers tightened around yours just a bit.

“Hey…” he said quietly, glancing at you, a little sheepish. “You didn’t have to do all of this, you know.”

Your brows softened instantly. 

“Luigi…”

“I mean it,” he continued, his voice softer, almost guilty now. 

“You’ve been taking care of me all day, and I just… I feel bad. I’m supposed to be taking care of you too.”

Your heart melted a little at that. You shifted closer, your hand coming up to cradle his face again. 

“You do take care of me,” you said gently. “All the time. Let me take care of you for once.”

He looked at you like he didn’t fully believe he deserved that, his cheeks already faintly pink.

“…I love you so much,” he said, quieter this time, like it slipped out without him even trying.

Your chest tightened in the softest way. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, letting it linger just a second longer. 

“I love you more,” you whispered.

He blinked at you, flustered, and then let out a small, nervous breath. “Wow I hope I don’t make you sick,” he added, a little worried now, his eyes flicking over your face.

You smiled warmly at his words, and before he could overthink it, you leaned in again and kissed him gently.

His entire face flushed instantly. “I-well...oh,” he stammered, eyes going wide, completely caught off guard.

You laughed softly, brushing your nose against his. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured. “Stop worrying.”

He just stared at you for a second, blushing like crazy, his grip on your hand tightening again like he didn’t want to let go.

And when he finally settled back into the pillows, his eyes slipping closed, it wasn’t just because he was tired. It was because you were there, and that was enough for him to finally let go.

[shangchiswife]

henry creel- nothing happened

summary: when you start to remember something you shouldn’t, your husband helps you forget.

henry creel x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 3706

....

Dinner had gone exactly the way it always did.

The dining room was warm, the air heavy with the lingering smell of food and sugar, the long table crowded with children leaning back in their chairs, satisfied and restless. 

You stood at the sideboard, smoothing your hands down the skirt of the dress you wore. 

It was one of Henry’s favorites. It was a pale pink color with soft fabric that was fitted just enough at the waist before falling loose around your legs. 

It was the one you wore most often without thinking, the one that always seemed to exist in this house, like it had been waiting for you before you ever put it on.

You turned back toward the counter and lifted the plates carefully. 

You had baked a banana cream pie earlier that afternoon, slicing it neatly once it had set, the custard smooth, and the bananas layered just beneath the surface. The brownies sat on a separate plate beside it, still warm, the smell of chocolate lingering in the air. 

The children watched eagerly as you stepped toward the table.

Henry sat at the head of the table with a content expression on his face, his blue eyes following you.

You took another step.

Then suddenly a vision tore through you.

There was no warning or any time for you to brace yourself. 

The dining room vanished in an instant, replaced by a rush of red and noise that pressed in from every direction. The walls warped and bowed inward, the air thickening as if the house itself were closing around you. Dark vines crept along the walls and ceiling, winding through cracks that hadn’t been there a second ago, pulsing like they were alive. 

You heard screaming that didn’t sound like it was coming from the children at all, and beneath it, beneath everything, was Henry’s voice. Not the calm one you knew, but something deeper, distorted, monstrous, reverberating through your skull as if it didn’t belong to a man anymore.

Your chest started to heave, your eyes growing wide at the horror in front of you.

The air felt wrong, every breath shallow as the vision pressed tighter around you. 

Your lungs burned as you tried to inhale, and your heart pounded so hard that you could feel it in your throat.

The screaming faded in and out, replaced by that deep, distorted sound of Henry’s voice echoing through the red, the vines tightening their grip along the walls as if they were responding to him.

Then the dining room slammed back into place.

The chandelier was still overhead. The table was still there. The children were still sitting in their chairs, staring at you with puzzled expressions on their faces.

Then your knees buckled.

Your hands went slack and the plates slipped from your grip. The pie hit the floor first, porcelain shattering loudly as it broke apart, followed by the brownies a split second later, the dish cracking as chocolate scattered across the wood. 

Cream splashed up against the table legs and across your shoes, banana slices sliding outward as the children's chairs scraped back in alarm.

You fell with the sound.

Your palm struck the floor hard, straight into the broken glass. Blood spread across the mess beneath you. Your chest kept heaving, breath catching no matter how hard you tried to pull it back under control.

The room erupted with noise.

The children shouted and cried, half-standing, half-frozen, eyes locked on the blood spreading across the floor and soaking into the hem of your dress. Someone backed into a chair. Someone else covered their mouth.

You barely heard them.

Your vision swam as you stared at your hand, red slick against white shards and pale cream.

This wasn’t something that happened to you. You didn’t collapse. You didn’t lose control like this.

Henry was beside you almost immediately.

He knelt and took your wrist, steadying you as he lifted your injured hand to inspect it. Blood streaked his fingers as he turned your palm slightly, his touch firm in a way that made your stomach twist.

“Sweetheart,” he said calmly, his voice back to normal now, as if nothing had happened at all, “are you alright?”

Your chest still rose and fell too fast as you shook your head. 

“I couldn’t breathe,” you said, the words coming out uneven. 

“I saw something. I heard you.”

Henry’s blue eyes searched your face.

“You panicked,” he said evenly. “That’s all.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, trying again to pull your hand back. “It wasn’t like that. I heard you. I-”

His grip tightened just slightly.

Around you, the children shifted and murmured, voices overlapping in a confused way, none of them quite sure what they were supposed to do.

Someone whispered your name. Another asked if you were hurt. A few of them stood frozen in place, hands gripping chair backs or the edge of the table, eyes flicking between your bleeding hand and Henry’s face, searching for reassurance and not finding it.

Holly edged forward despite herself. She looked torn, like she knew she wasn’t supposed to move but couldn’t stop. “Mrs. WhatsIt,” she said, her voice small and insistent, “your hand-”

Henry looked up.

The shift was immediate.

The children stilled where they were, shoulders drawn in, watching him carefully.

“That’s enough,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t sound angry, just firm in a way that left no room to push back. “Everyone back to your rooms.”

No one moved at first.

They looked at you again, then at him, hesitation written all over their faces. One of them wiped at their eyes. Another took a half-step toward you and stopped.

“Now,” Henry added, the word heavier this time, settling into the room.

They moved then.

Slowly, carefully, like they were afraid of making things worse. They stepped around the broken plates and smeared cream, around the dark streaks of blood on the floor.

A few of them kept looking back, expressions uncertain, as if they were afraid something else might happen the moment they turned away.

Holly lingered longer than the others. She hovered near the doorway, twisting her hands together, her face drawn with worry. 

“Holly,” Henry repeated, his piercing eyes still on you.

The young girl flinched at the sound of her name, then looked back at you one last time, eyes shining, before finally turning and following the others down the hall.

When the last set of footsteps faded, the house felt different like it had closed in on itself.

Henry turned back to you.

Your breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling too fast, the sting in your hand sharp where he held it.

Up close, you could see the change in him more clearly now. 

His brows were drawn together, not in anger exactly, but in concentration, like he was working through something he hadn’t planned for. The calm was still there, settled into his posture, but it felt tighter.

He looked down at your hand, at the blood slicking his fingers, and something flickered across his face too quickly to name. His grip adjusted slightly, as if he didn’t trust you not to slip away if he loosened it.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“I couldn’t breathe,” you repeated, the words coming out thin. “I thought I was going to pass out.”

Henry’s jaw tightened. He lifted his gaze back to your face, eyes searching, assessing, his expression closed off in a way that made your stomach drop.

“You didn’t see anything,” he said evenly. “You scared yourself.”

You shook your head, frustration bleeding into fear. “You keep saying that like I imagined it.”

His eyebrows drew together, the crease between them deepening as irritation finally broke through the calm he’d been holding onto. A dark curl slipped loose from where it had been neatly kept, falling forward against his forehead as he leaned closer.

“I won’t have you upsetting them,” he said, his voice tighter now, edged with something unmistakably irritated. “And I won’t have you doing this to yourself.”

“They were scared,” you said. “Holly was crying.”

“That will stop,” he replied immediately, too fast, his eyes flicking toward the hallway before snapping back to you. “This won’t, if you keep pulling at it.”

You swallowed. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Henry stepped closer, close enough that there was no space left to retreat into. The warmth of him was unavoidable now. His free hand came up, fingers closing around your arm, firmer than before, anchoring you where you stood.

“You don’t need to ask, love,” he said, low. “You just need to stop.”

Your chest tightened. “And if I can’t?”

His mouth pressed into a hard line, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his brows knit even tighter. That loose curl fell further, shadowing his eyes as something dark and impatient moved there.

For a moment, he said nothing.

His grip tightened as if he’d already made up his mind.

“I’ll make sure you do,” he said.

He didn’t give you time to react.

His grip shifted suddenly, releasing your arm only to catch you around the waist as he lifted you clean off the floor and swung you over his shoulder. 

The abrupt movement knocked a sharp yelp out of you, your hands clutching at his shirt as the world tipped sideways.

“Henry-”

He ignored your protests as he turned away from the room, his grip shifting just enough to keep you steady against him as he started up the stairs. 

You tried to speak again, but the words caught somewhere in your chest as he continued upward. 

It felt like this was something he had already decided on as he carried you, like the question you’d asked downstairs had only confirmed it rather than caused it.

At the top of the stairs, he nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder and stepped inside without slowing down.

He set you down on the bed a moment later, firmly enough that the mattress dipped beneath you and your breath hitched as you braced yourself on your hands.

Your chest was still rising too fast as you looked up at him, your palm throbbing where it pressed into the sheets.

Up close, you could see how tight his expression was now, his brows drawn together, his jaw set, as he looked down at you like he was holding something back.

You shook your head, anger finally cutting through the fear. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you spoke, your voice sharper now. “I was standing there one second and the next I couldn’t breathe, and everything went wrong, and you just keep telling me to stop like that explains anything.”

Henry’s jaw tightened at that. 

He took a step closer, then another, until he was right there, close enough that you could feel the heat of him again. His eyes flicked briefly to your hand, the blood smeared across your palm and dried along your fingers, then back to your face.

“You’re spiraling,” he said, his voice tight now, irritation breaking through. “And you’re letting it turn into something it doesn’t need to be.”

“That’s not fair,” you shot back. “I didn’t imagine it. I saw something, and you won’t even let me talk about it.”

His brows knit harder, the crease between them deepening as that loose curl fell further across his forehead. 

“Because talking about it makes it worse,” he stated calmly. “For you. For all of us.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you sneered. “I’m the one who’s bleeding.”

The words hung between you.

Henry’s gaze dropped again to your hand, still red, still shaking slightly, then lifted back to your face. 

Something dark moved through his expression, frustration mixing with something more volatile.

“You don’t stop,” he said, low. “Even when I’m trying to help you.”

“Then help me,” you pleaded. “Don’t just tell me to forget it.”

That did it.

He moved in close, one hand coming up to your jaw, fingers firm but not painful, forcing you to look at him. His breathing wasn’t as even anymore, his control slipping at the edges.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?” you replied, your breath still uneven.

“Like you don’t trust me.”

“Right now, I don’t,” you crossed your arms.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then he crashed his lips against yours.

You let out a small moan in surprise, the sound slipping out before you could stop it, and despite yourself you melted into the kiss, your body giving in even as your thoughts lagged behind. 

You felt the shift immediately, the way his mouth curved just slightly against yours, a brief grin pressed into the kiss like he’d been waiting for you to do exactly that.

“There,” he murmured against your lips, barely pulling back. “That’s better.”

You swallowed, your forehead brushing his as you breathed. “I’m still upset,” you muttered, even as you stayed right where you were.

“I know,” he replied, like it didn’t matter as much as it should have.

His hand slid from your jaw to your wrist, then, slower now, his thumb brushing near the cut as if he’d only just remembered it. Your hand still throbbed where the glass had caught you, and you hissed softly without meaning to.

His grip gentled slightly. “I’ll take care of it later,” he said, pressing a kiss on your hand. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.”

You looked at him, confusion still sitting heavy in your chest. “You’re just pretending nothing happened.”

“I’m trying to keep you from dwelling on it,” he smiled, his voice low again. “You don’t need to sit with things that only upset you, dear.”

The pet name made your breath hitch.

He leaned in again, kissing you once more, slower this time, like he was settling something rather than starting it. “I’ll make you forget about this,” he added quietly. 

And the part that scared you most was how easily your body seemed willing to let him.

He didn’t give you much time to sit with that realization.

He kissed you again, more firmly this time, his hand steady at your wrist as he leaned into you. 

The bed dipped beneath his weight as he shifted closer, the space between you disappearing as he pressed you back against the mattress.

You sucked in a breath against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulder as his weight settled over you. He was careful of your injured hand, guiding it aside as he adjusted, but the rest of him stayed close.

The closeness made your head feel light, the rest of the room fading out as his mouth stayed on yours. Your frustration blurred further with every second, replaced by a warmth that settled low and made it harder to think straight.

Henry shifted back just enough to look at you, his eyes dropping to where his hands had already found the fabric of your dress. He didn’t say anything as his fingers slid under the hem and began lifting it up.

The fabric skimmed up your legs, exposing more skin with every inch, and you felt shivers down your spine when the cool air met your bare skin.

You watched him as the dress was pulled over you, your chest rising a little faster as it came free and was tossed aside. 

The hungry look in his eyes made your stomach twist, making you grow wet as you shifted beneath him, suddenly very aware of how exposed you were since you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Henry straightened up and slipped out of his blazer, laying it neatly over the armchair beside the bed. He then took off his glasses next and set them carefully on top of the nightstand before pulling his shirt over his head and setting it aside just as neatly.

You watched him the entire time.

You never got used to how beautiful he was.

His hair was slightly mussed now, that loose curl still out of place, his brows drawn just enough to give him that focused look that always made your stomach flip.

He moved closer to you and then leaned down, angling his head just enough that his mouth brushed past your ear, his breath warm as it fanned across your skin.

“You’re doing that thing,” he murmured, his voice low and close. “The way you look at me when you’re trying to decide whether to give in.”

Your breath stuttered at the sound of it, the words sinking in deeper than they should have. 

You shifted beneath him without thinking, your thighs pressing together as a soft, broken sound slipped out of you before you could stop it.

Henry noticed immediately.

His mouth curved faintly, satisfied, as he stayed right there by your ear. “There it is,” he said quietly. 

“You’re not as upset as you pretend to be.”

You whined under your breath, frustrated with yourself, with him, with how easily he got this reaction out of you. 

Your body felt warm all over now, restless, your thoughts blurring the longer he stayed that close.

He slowly unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his already hard cock.

Your mouth went dry and you swallowed hard at the sight.

“That look,” his voice was low and satisfied as he stroked himself. “You’re not even trying to hide it, are you, darling?”

You rubbed your thighs together again, letting out a soft moan as you looked away for half a second before he caught your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, tracing a featherlight touch along your jaw. “I want you right here, sweetheart,”

His hands then spread your legs so that your glistening pussy was on display for him.

His gaze lingered on you like he was taking his time committing the sight to memory. His mouth curved just slightly as he leaned closer again.

“You look perfect like this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You don’t have to think about what you saw right now.”

His hands slid to your hips as he lined himself with your wet entrance.

Your breath came out shaky.

“Just stay with me,” he murmured. “Let me take care of it.”

He finally pushed inside you, his cock stretching you, making you whine and dig your nails into his back, the pain from your bleeding hand still slightly there.

“That’s it,” he groaned quietly, voice right by your ear now. “I’ve got you.”

You whimpered again, caught between frustration and need, your hips instinctively seeking him as he stayed there, instead of rushing. His hands stayed firm at your sides, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “You’re okay. Just focus on me.”

His mouth brushed along your jaw, then your ear, his tone softening even as the tension stayed tight between you. 

“You don’t need to think,” he added. “I’ll do that for you.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words and with that he started to move, maintaining a steady pace.

A faint sheen of sweat had already formed at his hairline, catching the light as he looked down at you, focused and intent. That loose curl clung to his forehead now, his breathing heavier than before but still controlled.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, as he withdrew half of his length, and shoved into you again.

You whined softly, overwhelmed and flushed, your body completely tuned into the rhythm he set.

He brought one of his hands down to your pussy and circled your clit with his thumb, putting more pressure each time he circled making your back arch.

Then he started to thrust into you at a faster pace making your mouth contort into an o shape.

“Have you forgotten already?” he said, his voice lower now. “Downstairs. The mess you made. The way you stared at me like I was a monster,”

The words cut deeper this time, slicing through the haze instead of skirting around it. 

Your breath hitched, emotion surging up fast and hot as your chest tightened, tears burning behind your eyes from the pleasure.

His forearms caged your head in, as his hips slapped against yours with wet smacks.

“You don’t get to look at me like that,” he continued, his tone controlled but unmistakably cruel. “Not after everything I give you. Not after I calm you down.”

The sounds of your slickness and of your panting filled the air.

“Henry-” you practically screamed as his tip kept hitting your g-spot.

Your thoughts scattered, the room tilting as the pressure built, too much to hold onto at once. The vision flickered at the edges of your mind, already slipping, like it couldn’t survive under his voice.

“There,” he murmured, softer again, almost pleased as your focus wavered. “That’s better.”

Henry groaned with pleasure as he felt you flutter around him.

Your breathing turned ragged as everything blurred together. The vision downstairs cracked then, the sharp edges dulling, the images smearing until they didn’t quite make sense anymore.

Henry continued his fast thrusts as your climax hit, your cunt squelching around his cock, making you see stars.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, the edge finally gone from his voice, replaced by something heavier and satisfied.

You clung to him, your breathing slowing as everything settled, your body warm and spent beneath him. 

He stayed buried in you for a moment longer, his hand smoothing along your side like he was making sure you were still with him.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

By the time he finally pulled out of you, the room felt hazy in the aftermath. 

Your thoughts were slow, softened around the edges, and when you tried to reach for what had happened earlier, it slipped away just out of grasp.

Henry pressed a kiss to your temple making you smile. 

“Rest, my dear,” he gave you a smile. “I’ll clean you up.”

And as you closed your eyes, the memory of the dining room, the vision, the fear, all of it felt strangely muted, like something that had happened to someone else entirely.

[shangchiswife]

henry creel- good little wife

summary: after a long day of working hard for everyone, your husband makes sure you feel just as taken care of.

henry creel x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 2270

....

It had been a long day at the Creel House, the kind that left your head aching and your feet sore, and you felt a quiet sense of victory when the last of the children finally went to bed after you promised them chocolate chip cookies in the morning. 

You stood at the sink in the kitchen with your sleeves pushed up, washing the last plate as warm water steamed the air, humming to yourself absentmindedly.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt it anyway, his hands snaking around your waist without warning, pulling you back against his chest.

“Hello, darling,” your husband Henry murmured, leaning in to place a gentle kiss against your neck.

“Hi, hun,” you said softly, still focused on the sink, “just finishing up these dishes.” You lifted a hand, resting it against his cheek without turning to look at him.

He hummed in response, low and content, his hands sliding to your hips and guiding you into a slow sway against him, like the house wasn’t full of sleeping children and responsibilities waiting for morning.

“You know,” he said quietly, lips close to your ear, “you are such an obedient and dutiful wife, so good to me, so good to the children.”

Your breath caught just slightly, shoulders easing as his words settled in. “Someone has to be,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even as your body leaned back into his without thinking.

Henry’s hands tightened at your hips. 

“You do it better than anyone,” he said. “All day, every day, you give everything you have.” His mouth brushed your neck again, lingering this time. “And you never ask for anything back.”

You turned your head just enough to look at him, drinking in the way he looked.

His blazer was gone and he was standing there in his white button-down. The collar was open, only slightly creased where you’d been pressed against him earlier in the day.

His hair was still in place, his expression calm but softer than usual, eyes steady on yours like he was waiting for you to say something else.

You held his gaze for a second too long.

“I’m fine,” you said, though it didn’t sound very convincing.

“I know,” he murmured. One hand slipped from your hip to your wrist, gently guiding it away from the sink as his other reached forward to twist the handle closed.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve something.”

His thumb traced a slow line over your pulse. “Let me spoil you tonight,” he said softly, the promise clear in the way his eyes held yours.

“But Henry,” you started, instinct kicking in even now, “I have to wash all of the children’s clothing and then clean up the rest of the kitchen.”

Henry smiled at that, slow and knowing, like he’d expected the protest before you even said it. 

He didn’t let go of you and just kept his thumb resting at your pulse.

“They’ll still be there in the morning,” he said gently.

“The clothes, the kitchen, all of it.” His voice dropped a little. “You won’t fall apart if you leave it for one night.”

You shook your head, even as your body stayed right where it was. “You know I don’t like going to bed with things undone.”

“I know,” he replied, pressing his forehead briefly against the side of your head.

“That’s one of the things I love about you.” His hands slid down just slightly. “But I also know you’ve been running since sunrise, and no one’s told you to stop yet.”

You exhaled at his words.

“I can help tomorrow,” he continued. “I’ll fold every last sock if that’s what it takes.” His mouth brushed your neck again, lingering there. 

“Tonight, I just want you. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

You hesitated for half a second longer, like you always did. Henry felt it, the way your weight shifted, the quiet sigh you tried to hide.

“That’s not a no,” he murmured, smiling against your skin.

Before you could argue again, his hands slid more firmly around you, and then you were moving, the floor disappearing as he lifted you with an ease that made you laugh softly despite yourself.

Your arms came up around his neck without thinking, forehead resting against his as he held you close.

“Henry,” you whispered, half protest, half smile.

“I’ve got you,” he said simply, carrying you out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The house stayed quiet, the only sounds the soft creak of wood and your breathing evening out as you let yourself relax against him.

Your room was dim when he nudged the door open, moonlight spilling across the bed. He didn’t rush setting you down, lowering you gently until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you sank into the sheets. His hands lingered at your sides for a moment after, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“There,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything right now.”

He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, and when he pulled back, his gaze lingered on you in a way that made your heart pound.

“So beautiful,” he said quietly, like it was something he’d been thinking all day.

Heat rushed to your face before you could stop it. 

“Henry,” you murmured, embarrassed despite yourself, bringing your hands up to cover your face as you turned slightly into the pillows. You could feel yourself smiling anyway.

He chuckled softly and caught your wrists, easing your hands down with gentle insistence. 

“Hey,” he said, calmer now. “Don’t hide from me.” 

His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, slowly. “I mean it.”

You peeked up at him with your cheeks still warm. “You’re impossible,” you said, still smiling.

“And you love that about me,” he replied easily. 

He leaned in again, kissing the corner of your mouth this time, then your cheek. His hand settled at your waist, keeping you right where he wanted you.

“You spend all day giving yourself away,” he murmured. “Let me be selfish with you for a little while.”

He slowly pulled back to lift your blue gingham dress, showcasing your lacy pink panties.

Your heart hammered in your chest as he placed a kiss on your clothed core.

“Henry, please,” you whimpered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

He paused just long enough to make it unbearable, lifting his head to look at you with those blue eyes you loved. 

A quiet smile tugged at his mouth. 

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” he murmured.

One of his hands slid back up your leg, holding you in place as he leaned closer again. 

“You don’t need to rush me,” he said softly, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The promise in his voice made your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your stomach as you nodded.

Henry shifted lower as his hands guided your legs apart just enough to make you aware of the space between them.

He pressed a slow kiss to your ankle first, then another just above it, his mouth warm against your skin. You sucked in a quiet breath as he worked his way up, kissing along your calf, your knee, the inside of your thigh, each one careful like he was memorizing you.

“Henry,” you whispered again, fingers twisting into the sheets, your voice betraying you.

He hummed softly in response, the sound low and pleased, his hands sliding higher, thumbs pressing into your thighs as he lingered there, making you wait. 

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were dark and full of lust, like he was taking his time on purpose because he knew exactly what it was doing to you.

“So patient,” he murmured, almost to himself.

His fingers hooked gently into the lace at your hips, pausing just long enough to make your breath hitch. He eased them down slowly, as his eyes never left your face.

“There,” he said quietly once they were gone, his hands returning to your thighs.

His gaze swept over your uncovered core, hunger flashing in his eyes as he took his index finger and dragged it along your wet slit making you mewl.

“Is all of this for me?” he asked quietly, coaxing, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely holding together.

“For you.”

The look that crossed his face at that was unmistakable, like he’d finally gotten exactly what he wanted.

“Such a good wife for me,” he smiled, making you grow even wetter.

Then his mouth moved lower, tracing a path that made your breath stutter and your fingers curl into the sheets.

Henry’s hands tightened on your thighs as he leaned in closer, his mouth hovering just above your pussy, close enough that you could feel his warm breath. 

Then he finally latched onto your pussy, and your body reacted instantly, back arching, a sharp breath leaving you as your fingers slid into his hair.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your breath stuttering as he kitten licked your clit.

He grinned at your words, like he was enjoying how easily you were unraveling beneath him.

There was something almost smug in it, but softened by the way his eyes stayed on you, tracking every movement you made.

He didn’t rush as his tongue traced slow, teasing patterns that made your vision blur.

“Look at you,” he murmured quietly, voice low and warm. “So responsive.”

He then pressed his thumb against your clit, drawing circles against your bud.

You whimpered his name again, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he responded immediately, one hand sliding up to lace his fingers with yours.

“Shh now you don’t want to wake the children,” his voice was velvet smooth as he gave your thigh a light tap.

He gently sucked on your clit, his teeth grazing against it. Your hips bucked up against him in response.

“That’s it,” Henry murmured softly, his voice steady and warm. “Such a good wife, taking care of everyone all day.” 

His thumb and tongue started to move faster making you see stars. 

“Now I get to take care of you.”

His tongue continued to slither between your folds as your whole body tingled with pleasure.

The sensation swelled all at once. You gasped, fingers clutching at him, hips lifting without permission as your breath broke apart.

“Henry,” you whispered, voice trembling now, stripped of restraint. “I-I can’t-”

“I know,” he said immediately, his hand tightening around yours. “You don’t have to. Let it happen.”

The permission shattered whatever control you had left.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the feeling in your lower belly crescendoed. Your jaw went slack, a silent moan coming out as you cummed.

“Mmm.” He hummed against you as his tongue lapped up your cum. 

He stilled after that, the intensity easing as he lifted his head slowly. 

One hand stayed firm on your thigh, the other still laced with yours, holding you in place while your body trembled through the last lingering waves of your orgasm.

“Easy,” he murmured softly, voice warm and low. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing evened gradually, warmth replacing the edge of sensation. 

Henry shifted closer, touch gentler now, his thumb tracing slow, soothing lines over your skin.

“There you are,” he said quietly, affection softening every word. “Just breathe.”

You let out a shaky exhale, a faint sound of laughter escaping before you could stop it. Your head turned toward him, cheek sinking into the pillow as your body finally relaxed completely.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh, lingering there for a second before easing up beside you.

The mattress shifted as he settled in, pulling the covers over you both, his arm coming around you easily as he drew you into his chest.

You let out a long, shaky breath as you melted against him, forehead resting just beneath his chin, body still humming faintly.

“There you go,” Henry murmured quietly, his hand smoothing up and down your arm in slow strokes. “You did so well for me.”

Your fingers curled lightly into his shirt, the words sinking deep. 

“Did I?” you asked softly, voice still unsteady.

He chuckled under his breath, warm and fond. 

“Always,” he said without hesitation. His hand slid up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your jaw. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

Heat bloomed in your chest at his words.

“You’re saying that because you’re biased,” you murmured, eyes half closed.

“No,” he said immediately, pressing a kiss to your hair, then your temple. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because I get to see you like this.” His arm tightened around you just a little. “Because I love you.”

Your breath caught at his words. 

You tilted your head up just enough to look at him. “I love you too,” you whispered.

His expression softened completely at that, something tender and protective settling in his eyes. He kissed you then gently.

“Rest,” he murmured against your lips. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, nestling back into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as your breathing finally evened out. 

The house stayed quiet around you, the night still and safe, and for once, there was nothing you needed to do except let yourself be held.

[shangchiswife]

stanford pines- only you

summary: ford gets insecure about your age gap but you assure him that you want him.

ford pines x fem!reader

warnings: kissing

word count: 2592

....

Stanford Pines never understood what you saw in him.

You were cute and stylish, the kind of person who could turn heads without even trying, and he was… well, him. Scruffy hair, sweater vests older than the furniture in the Shack, and the kind of awkwardness that made it impossible for him to hide when he was flustered.

You were even younger than he had been when he disappeared into that portal.

Mabel always had the same answer whenever she caught her great uncle overthinking.

“It’s because of your big heart, Great Uncle Ford. No girl can ever resist a heart like yours.”

He never knew what to say to that, so he would just clear his throat and act like he was busy.

You met in the middle of that strange summer, after you started tagging along on the twins’ endless adventures.

Dipper and Mabel adored you, they thought of you as the older sister they never had. Soos loved you too, always saying you were the “coolest person to ever walk into the Shack.” Wendy had a bit of a crush on you, though she never really admitted it, and even Stan, gruff as he was, eventually warmed up to you.

One afternoon you, Mabel, and Dipper headed into the Shack’s kitchen for a snack. 

You were laughing at something ridiculous Mabel had said when you rounded the corner and almost ran straight into him.

Ford was standing at the counter with a jar of peanut butter in one hand, his other hand resting on the edge as he leaned forward. He looked completely lost in thought, brows furrowed and lips moving like he was muttering to himself.

His head lifted the second you stepped into view. His eyes met yours for just a moment before flicking down, and you caught the way his breath hitched. The flush that spread across his face was quick, and you knew exactly why. You were wearing the shortest skirt you owned.

“Oh… hello,” he said, his voice uneven. He adjusted his glasses quickly, as if that would hide it. “You must be… a friend of Dipper and Mabel’s.”

“That’s me,” you said with a slow smile, stepping farther into the room and leaning one hip against the counter. 

“And you must be the famous great uncle Ford. Gotta say, you are a lot cuter than I pictured.”

His grip on the jar slipped and he almost dropped it. “C-cuter? I… well… thank you, I suppose.”

“Relax,” you teased, watching him avoid your eyes. “I mean it as a compliment.”

Suddenly at that moment, Dipper and Mabel entered the kitchen.

Mabel’s grin stretched wide while Dipper had a confused look on his face.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked, clearly enjoying herself as she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Nothing,” Ford replied too fast, setting the peanut butter down and taking a small step back.

“Just meeting your great-uncle,” you said, still watching him with a grin.

He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Well, it is… uh...nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you too,” you replied, letting the words linger.

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a look as they dug through the fridge.

“I am calling it right now,” Mabel whispered to Dipper, just loud enough for both of you to hear. “There is definitely something going on here.”

Ford ignored her, but you caught the faint pinkish tint on his cheeks

….

After that day, you started to do it on purpose.

You would wear more fitted clothing around the Shack, knowing it would catch his attention. Sometimes it was a skirt that showed just enough leg, sometimes a top that hugged your figure a little too tightly. 

You never said anything about it, but you always noticed the way his eyes flicked toward you before quickly darting away, the way his jaw would tighten for a second like he was trying to regain focus, and the subtle shift in his posture when he realized you had caught him looking.

And honestly, you thought he was really hot. 

The way his voice dropped when he was thinking out loud, the way his hair always fell a little messy into his face, the way he rolled up his sleeves when he worked. You even thought it was cute when he went off into long explanations about whatever project was in front of him. His age didn’t bother you one bit. If anything, you liked it.

You didn’t see Ford much around the Shack. Most of the time he was tucked away in the basement behind the vending machine, buried in research or building something you couldn’t begin to name.

You’d make excuses to go down there, usually with a coffee or something in hand. He’d always thank you with this small, almost shy smile, and you’d carry that with you for the rest of the day. You liked knowing you could pull his attention, even if it was just for a moment.

....

Before long, you found yourself heading downstairs once again. You didn't have an excuse this time, but that had never really stopped you before.

The basement felt like stepping into another world. It was cooler down there, the air filled with the low hum of machines and the faint scent of oil and metal.

Ford was at his workbench, completely absorbed in whatever he was working on. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands moving with steady precision as he adjusted some strange device. His hair had fallen slightly into his face, the crease between his brows deepening every time he leaned in.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, letting yourself watch him, that familiar pull in your chest stronger than you wanted to admit.

He hadn’t even noticed you.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Ford jumped, his shoulders tensing as he straightened.

“Oh–I… didn’t hear you come in.” His voice was a little uneven, and there was something in his eyes, a flicker of surprise mixed with something warmer.

You smiled, stepping into the room. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He cleared his throat, glancing back at the device on the bench. “I was… focused. I lose track of everything else sometimes.”

You leaned against the wall, still watching him. That small smile he always gave you was back, and you couldn’t help but savor it.

You let the hum of the machines fill the space for a moment before speaking again.

“You spend a lot of time down here,” you said, your tone light and full of amusement. “Ever take a break?”

He glanced at you briefly, then back to his work. “Not often. There is always something that needs my attention.”

You pushed off the wall and walked toward the workbench, slow enough that he noticed. “Maybe you should let something else have your attention for a change.”

Ford looked up fully this time, studying your face like he was trying to figure out what you meant. “Such as?”

You rested your hands on the edge of the bench, leaning forward just slightly. “Such as… going somewhere. With someone. Like me.”

Ford almost had a heart attack at your words.

His gaze held yours for a second before dropping, and he set down the small tool in his hand.

“Aren’t I a little too old for you?” His voice was careful, but there was no hiding the trace of vulnerability underneath.

You didn’t even hesitate. “Not even close. You’re brilliant, you’re fascinating, and well…” your eyes swept over him slowly, “…you’re hot.”

Ford’s breath caught so sharply it made you grin. His grip on the bench tightened, and his gaze flicked away like he couldn’t trust himself to keep looking at you.

“I… well… that’s… quite flattering,” he said, his voice unsteady.

You leaned in just a little closer, tilting your head so you could still catch his eyes. “You know, you could say yes instead of dodging the question.”

He let out a quiet, almost nervous laugh. “It is not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” you said, your tone softer now. “You and me. Dinner, maybe a walk. Just… let yourself have something outside of all this for once.”

His gaze flicked back to yours, and for a moment, you could see him contemplating it, the part of him that wanted to keep his guard up fighting with the part of him that clearly wanted to say yes.

“You have a way of… making it difficult to refuse you,” he murmured as you batted your eyelashes at him.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile that said you already knew you’d won. “Is that a yes?”

He adjusted his glasses, still looking like he wasn’t sure how you had gotten him here.

“Yes,” he said finally, almost reluctantly, though the faint curve of his mouth gave him away. “It’s a yes.”

“Good,” you replied, straightening and stepping back just enough to give him space. “I’ll figure out when. You just have to show up.”

As you turned to leave, you could still feel his eyes on you, and you knew without looking that his small, shy smile was back.

….

In the months that followed, what had started with stolen glances and brief conversations slowly turned into something more. Before you knew it, the two of you had gone on countless dates, each one making it harder to imagine a time when he hadn't been part of your life.

Dating Ford was a challenge, but it was the kind you loved.

He was thoughtful and caring in his own way, but his insecurities had a habit of showing up when you least expected them. 

Sometimes it was the way his eyes lingered on the lines on his face in the mirror. Sometimes it was the hesitation in his voice before agreeing to go out somewhere public with you.

You always made it your mission to shut those doubts down. 

You told him you only wanted him. That you didn’t care what anyone else thought. That he was the one you wanted in every way that mattered. 

He would smile at your words, but you could always still see that small flicker of doubt hiding behind his eyes.

One night you had gone out for dinner at a nice restaurant in town, so you decided to put on one of Ford’s favorite dresses of yours. 

It hugged your curves perfectly, and the neckline just low enough to make his cheeks flush. You always loved seeing his reaction when you wore it. 

He never tried to hide the way he looked at you, but he always seemed to short circuit in the process. His words would stumble, his eyes would trace over you more than once, and there was always that pause like his mind had to catch up to what he was seeing.

When you walked out to meet him, his eyes swept over you once before coming back again like he needed a second look and you caught the small hitch in his breath before he adjusted his glasses.

“You… look incredible,” he said softly, like it was meant only for you.

You smiled, taking his arm. “I know.”

At the restaurant, the warm lighting wrapped around you both, and it felt like you were in your own little world.

Every time you leaned forward to speak, you caught the way his eyes lingered on your face before flicking away for just a second. 

Ford was so down bad for you, it was almost funny but the truth was, you were just as gone for him.

When you left, the night air was cool, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the pavement as you walked side by side.

His hand was warm in yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in small, absent motions. You were mid-laugh when a man about your age stepped out from a doorway.

He whistled sharply, his eyes dragging over you in a way that made your stomach twist.

“Hey, baby,” he called, smirking. “Why don’t you ditch the old guy and come with me? I know how to actually make you feel good.”

You felt Ford tense instantly. His grip on your hand stayed firm, but his shoulders stiffened, and when you glanced at him, there was something small and defeated in his eyes.

You stopped and turned toward the man, your voice sharp. 

“First of all, I’m not your ‘baby.’ Second of all, I’m with him because he’s more of a man than you will ever be. And third, do not ever talk to me like that again.”

The man muttered something under his breath and stepped back. You turned away without another glance, your hand tightening around Ford’s.

The drive back to the Shack was quiet. 

Ford kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts.

Halfway back, you reached for his free hand. 

Without a word, you brought it to your lips and kissed every single finger of his, all six of them. His breath caught, and you felt the faint squeeze of his hand in return.

Back at the Shack, he hung his coat without looking at you.

“Ford,” you said softly, stepping toward him, “do not let that idiot get in your head. I am with you because I want you. Only you. Always you.”

His eyes met yours, but there was still uncertainty there. “I know you mean that… I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

You pressed your hands to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palms.

“Then let me show you how much I want you,” you purred.

You climbed into his lap on the couch, straddling him. His breath hitched immediately, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“You are… quite bold tonight,” he murmured, his voice lower, shy.

“Maybe,” you whispered, your lips brushing near his ear, “but only for you.”

His hands came to rest on your waist. You leaned in closer, your nose brushing along his jaw.

You felt the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath you, each breath a little deeper than the last. His Adam’s apple bobbed again, and his gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth before darting away like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look for too long.

Your fingers slid up the sides of his neck, lightly threading into his hair, and you felt him tense and then relax under your touch.

“You make me feel…” he started, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat.

You tilted your head. “What?”

He exhaled, his voice quieter now. “Like I’m allowed to have this… to have you. And I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that before.”

Your chest tightened, and you leaned in until your foreheads touched. “You are allowed. You always will be. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Ford’s eyes closed for a moment, like he was letting himself believe you. His grip on your waist firmed just slightly, the hesitation still there but softening.

You kissed him then, your lips brushing his in a way that felt like a promise. 

He inhaled sharply, one of his hands sliding from your waist up your back, holding you closer.

When you finally pulled back, your lips were still close enough to feel his breath.

“See? Only you,” you whispered.

His eyes opened, and for the first time that night, there was no doubt in them.

[shangchiswife]

clark kent- and they were roommates

summary: clark, your roommate, has been jealous of your boyfriend for a while. Then he cheats, and one night changes everything.

clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 4321

....

Clark Kent never considered himself a jealous man.

Not until you started dating him.

You and Clark had been roommates for a while now.

It was supposed to be temporary. He had just landed the Daily Planet job, you were finishing grad school, and rent in Metropolis was brutal.

But it worked.

Nights stretched into mornings, and eventually, he stopped thinking of it as your apartment and more like… home.

Because you were there.

You were always there.

When he came back from long shifts, half-sore from saving the city, you’d be curled up on the couch, eyes bleary from whatever article you were editing.

You used to make two mugs of tea, one for you, one for him. You used to ask how his day was, even if he never gave you the full truth.

And maybe that was the problem. He never told you how he really felt.

So you met someone else.

And Clark watched it happen in slow motion. You’d leave the apartment humming a happy tune under your breath. You’d come home smiling in that soft, faraway way.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t have to.

It was in the way you stopped making two cups of tea. The way your voice got quieter when your phone lit up. The way you laughed, and it wasn't with him.

He told himself it was fine. That as long as you were happy, that was enough.

But then he came home one night, soaked from the rain, with his curls damp against his forehead. And there you were, curled up on the couch with him. Head on his shoulder, blanket thrown over both your legs like it was just another night.

You looked up when the door opened. Smiled at Clark like everything was fine. Like nothing had shifted.

You even patted the seat beside you.

But he just shook his head, that familiar smile tugging at his mouth, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Then he turned and walked straight to his room without another word.

And something in his chest pulled tight. Because it used to be him in the spot your boyfriend now sat in.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew. If you had any idea he would’ve done anything to be the one making you laugh like that.

If you knew, would it have changed anything?

He wasn’t sure. Maybe. Maybe not. But the truth was, Clark hated him.

He hated the way your boyfriend acted like he had all the answers, like being loud somehow made him right. Hated how he touched you in front of people like it was for show, like it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with being seen. Hated how he talked over you, called your ideas “cute” like you weren’t brilliant, laughed at your dreams like they were a joke.

It had been building for a while. Clark saw the changes before you did. Maybe before you were ready to admit they were there.

He watched you drift further away, bit by bit. The way you laughed less around the apartment. The way your clothes started to change so that they were more muted. The way you flinched, barely, when your boyfriend put his hand on your waist as if he owned you.

Clark noticed all of it. Every little change. Every word you swallowed down. Every smile that looked more like muscle memory than anything real.

So he said something. Just once.

It was late. The apartment was quiet.

Your boyfriend had left in a rush, something mean slipping from his mouth as the door closed behind him. You stood at the sink rinsing a mug with your back to Clark. He leaned against the counter, hands gripping the edge like he needed something to anchor him.

“I don’t like the way he treats you,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s not okay.”

You didn’t respond, and your eyes were dead and tired.

“He’s always late. He cuts you off. Makes those comments that aren’t really jokes. And you… you don’t laugh the way you used to. You barely speak when he’s around.”

You still wouldn’t look at him and it killed him.

“You’re not you,” he said, softer now. “You’ve been getting smaller around him. And that’s not who you are.”

You froze for a second. Then shrugged, brushing it off.

“It’s not that deep, Clark. Let it go,” you murmured.

Clark didn’t push. He didn’t say the rest of what he wanted to say.

He didn’t say how much it hurt him to watch you bend around someone who never noticed or even seemed to care when you were breaking.

He just stood there, watching you force a tired smile and disappear down the hall.

….

It didn’t happen all at once. The jealousy built up, until the worst part was the nights he couldn’t block out.

He would lie there, staring at the ceiling, fists clenched in the sheets, trying not to hear the way your bed creaked just a wall away and the breathy sounds you made. 

He knew what it sounded like when you were faking. And you were faking. For him.

Clark hated it. 

Hated how clear everything became when the lights were off and the apartment was still. Hated how his enhanced hearing picked up every moan and every time your boyfriend chased his own release and didn’t care if you came with him.

He never paid attention to what you needed.

And Clark knew. He knew, because he had heard what it sounded like when you weren’t pretending.

That night still lived in his head. The one where you thought you were alone. Your door had been cracked open just enough. He hadn’t meant to hear, but he did. 

The way your breath caught. The soft sounds you made when it was just you. With no one watching and nothing to fake.

You hadn’t said his name. But he wished you had.

He had closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and stayed frozen on the couch like moving would make it worse.

He hated how badly he wanted you then. Hated the way it burned. Hated how later that night, alone in his bed, he wrapped his hand around his cock and came to the sound of your voice in his head.

Now, all he could do was lie there. Listen to you give yourself to someone who didn’t deserve a single piece of you.

And pretend it wasn’t breaking him in half.

….

Some time had passed since then. The nights still weighed on him, but he’d learned how to carry it.

Clark had just gotten home. The air still clung to his coat, the wind trailing behind him from the walk back.

A single curl fell over his forehead, damp from the drizzle. He stepped inside, tired, holding a bag of Thai food he picked up because he knew how much you liked it.

He barely made it two steps before he saw you curled up on the couch with your face blotchy and your eyes red. 

You weren’t crying anymore. You just looked done.

He dropped the food on the table and crossed the room in seconds, kneeling in front of you without a word. His voice was soft.

“What happened?”

You blinked. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, your lips trembling.

Clark didn’t move.

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting. “He said it like it didn’t matter. Like I should’ve seen it coming. Like we were nothing. Like I was nothing,”

His jaw clenched hard enough to ache. He stood suddenly, pacing a few steps like there was too much in him, too much heat, too much fury to keep still. His hands shook, and you noticed.

“He had you,” Clark said, his voice rough. “And he cheated.”

You didn’t answer. You just watched him with tired eyes.

“He tore you down. Made you think you were too much. Convinced you it was your fault when he stopped trying. And now-” He stopped himself. Shook his head like the words were too sharp to let out.

When he turned back to you, something in his expression splintered. You could see how hard he was breathing, how much he was holding back.

You didn’t say anything. You looked at him. Really looked. And for the first time in a long time, something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders. The way his hair curled against his forehead. The sharp line of his jaw. The way he was still standing there, breathing hard, looking at you like he wanted to destroy every version of your ex that ever made you feel small.

You reached for him. And he didn’t hesitate.

He dropped back down, closer this time, his hands cradling your face like he was afraid you’d shatter. His touch was warm and it made your chest ache.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. Not any of it.”

Your fingers curled around his wrists. You weren’t crying, but your throat felt too tight, your pulse too loud. He was so close. So impossibly close.

His thumbs brushed gently across your cheeks. He didn’t pull away. And neither did you.

Your breath caught.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth. Just for a second. Barely there. But you felt it.

And for some reason, you wanted him to.

You didn’t know what that meant. You didn’t know if it was the pain still sitting in your chest or the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t breathe.

But you wanted to kiss him.

And he wanted to kiss you.

You both felt it.

Clark leaned in just slightly, forehead resting against yours, his breath brushing your skin.

“I want to,” he said, barely audible. “God, I want to. But not like this.”

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to speak.

He stayed like that for a moment with his hand still holding your face. His was body close enough that you could feel the warmth of him everywhere.

And then, slowly, he pulled back.

He sat beside you instead, his arm brushing yours, your hand still tangled in his like neither of you wanted to let go yet.

Nothing else was said.

But something had changed.

And both of you felt it.

…..

It hadn’t been the same since.

A few days passed. Then a few more. Clark had been trying to avoid you as much as possible.

He started leaving earlier than usual. He skipped breakfast, said he wasn’t hungry. Some nights he didn’t come home until late, long after you’d gone to bed, and when he did, he was quiet and barely even looked at you.

One afternoon you caught him standing in the kitchen, saw him notice you walking in, and he grabbed his keys and left without saying anything at all.

So yeah. He was avoiding you.

You let it slide at first. You told yourself that he just needed time. But the silence kept stretching, and eventually, it just started to piss you off.

So you waited. 

You had turned off the lights and sat on the kitchen counter and waited for him to come home, phone in hand, pretending you were just up late doing something normal.

When the door creaked open and his footsteps hit the hallway, you called out before he could duck into his room.

“Clark.”

He froze.

Then slowly turned the corner and saw you perched there, legs swinging slightly, eyes on him like you’d been waiting for this exact moment.

You raised a brow, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Ha. Gotchu.”

He opened his mouth like he had something to say and then closed it again.

You hopped down, taking a few slow steps toward him.

“We’re going to talk now,” you said, like it wasn’t even a question.

Clark’s heart started beating fast.

He hadn’t planned for this. Not tonight. Not like this. His eyes dropped for a second, like maybe if he stared at the floor long enough, it would swallow him whole.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. The way your breath hitched. The way his hands felt on your face. The way you looked at him, like maybe you actually wanted him too.

And then he had pulled away. Because he had to. Because you were still hurting and it would’ve been wrong.

But now you were standing in front of him, arms crossed, waiting.

He didn’t even know what to say.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” you commented, tilting your head to the side.

“I haven’t-” he spoke as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting toward the floor. 

“You have,” you cut him off.

He didn’t argue.

He just stood there with his pulse loud in his ears, the silence stretching so thin it almost cracked.

You stepped forward. Not touching him but close enough to make his breath hitch.

“Why?”

Clark’s voice came out quiet. “Because I didn’t know how to be around you.”

Your face softened, just slightly. And he hated how much that made him want to close the space between you.

“After that night,” he said, eyes still fixed somewhere near the floor, “I didn’t know where we stood. And I didn’t want to push you.”

You looked at him, really looked. “You didn’t push me.”

That made him blink as his gaze finally lifted to meet yours.

“You pulled away,” you added, quieter now. “And I think that kind of hurt more.”

Clark’s chest went tight. 

His hands curled at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he didn’t know if he should step closer or keep standing exactly where he was.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he said. “I still do. But it didn’t feel fair.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just stared at him, breathing quietly. You could feel the air shift again. Something about the way he said it. The way he meant it.

And then, before you could answer, he spoke again. All at once.

“I’ve liked you since the day we met.”

Your breath caught.

He looked down, shook his head like he was embarrassed, like he hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“At the Daily Planet,” he said, quieter now. “I was new, I didn’t know anyone. And you just… you let me in. No hesitation. You made everything feel easier. Like I belonged.”

His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat.

“And I’ve been holding onto it since then. I tried not to. I told myself we were just friends, that it was better that way. But it kept getting harder. Especially when you started seeing him.”

He glanced up at you, and his eyes were so full of it that you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.

“It hurt,” he said. “Watching you be with someone who didn’t even see you. Who didn’t listen. Who never asked about your day, never remembered the things you cared about. He didn’t look at you like he knew how lucky he was.”

Clark exhaled, slow. His voice dropped lower, almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“But what hurt more was watching you try to be okay with it. Watching you shrink around someone who never deserved even a piece of you. And I couldn’t say anything. I just had to sit there and act like it wasn’t tearing me apart.”

You felt something pull in your chest.

He met your eyes, like he meant every word he hadn’t said yet.

“I never wanted to be the reason you hurt more,” he said. “But watching him break you-”

You didn’t let him finish.

Your fingers curled into his tie and you pulled him in fast.

His mouth crashed into yours before he could think, and the second it happened, something in both of you snapped.

His hands grabbed your waist like he’d been waiting forever to touch you. You kissed him like you meant it, like none of the silence, none of the pretending, ever stood a chance.

Then you pushed him back.

He landed on the couch with a breathless laugh, his eyes dark with lust, and his lips already swollen.

You climbed into his lap like you’d done it a hundred times. His hands slid up your back, his fingertips tracing your spine.

You didn’t wait.

You kissed him again, deeper this time. Your hands found his hair, and you pulled him closer. He let out a quiet sound against your mouth like he was already gone for you.

He always had been.

Your fingers slipped under his shirt, dragging over his chest. His mouth barely left yours. He kissed you like he needed to, like air didn’t matter unless it came from you.

When you rolled your hips, he groaned.

You felt everything.

The tension, the years of restraint, all the moments he’d bitten his tongue and held himself back. It was all right there in the way he touched you now.

His grip tightened at your waist, his mouth moving like he couldn’t stop if he tried.

You pressed your forehead to his, breathing hard, lips still brushing his.

“Is this okay?” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes locked on yours.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “More than okay.”

It didn’t sound like him. It sounded like everything he hadn’t said out loud until now. You didn’t even get a word in before his mouth was back on yours in an urgent manner.

His hands pulled you closer like he didn’t want to let go. Something had shifted. You could feel it in the way he kissed you with no hesitation and restraint. Just him, all of him, finally.

Then his hands slid under your shirt, warm and careful, and he paused.

His forehead stayed pressed to yours, his voice barely a breath.

“Can I?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes and gave him a look, deadpan and a little amused, like he should’ve known better.

“Obviously.”

He let out a breath that sounded half like a laugh, half like relief, then tugged your shirt over your head. His eyes stayed on you a second too long. And when you reached for his, neither of you looked away.

The second his shirt came off, your jaw nearly dropped.

His chest was insane. Defined lines down his stomach, strong shoulders, arms that looked like they could hold the world without breaking a sweat. It wasn’t just the muscle, it was the way it looked on him, effortless, like it had always belonged there.

“Okay, seriously,” you muttered, eyes still locked on him. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

Color rushed to his cheeks. He looked down, rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy in a way that made your stomach flip.

“I mean… not intentionally.”

You grinned, wide and a little breathless. “You’re unreal.”

He didn’t get a chance to answer.

You stood just long enough to slide your pants down and kick them aside, and something in him shifted all over again.

Clark’s breath caught. His jaw tightened. His eyes dragged over you like he couldn’t look away, like he was already somewhere else entirely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice low, full of something that made your whole body ache.

The way he looked at you, like you were something rare, like he couldn’t believe you were standing there in front of him, made your heart pound hard against your ribs.

You swallowed, suddenly unsteady. “Clark…”

He didn’t move. Just kept looking at you like he needed to remember every inch of you, like he didn’t want to miss a single second.

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “You’re everything.”

Then he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto the couch, flipping you in one smooth motion until he was on top of you.

His mouth found yours again, rougher this time, like something in him had finally broken free.

His hands moved down your sides, skimming over your waist and hips with a kind of certainty that made your whole body tense, like he already knew exactly how you felt beneath his hands, even if he’d never touched you like this before.

He pulled back just enough to trail kisses down your neck, each one slower than the last. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, every sound you made.

When his mouth brushed along your collarbone, then your breasts, you couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped out of you.

Clark groaned against your skin, like that sound alone nearly undid him.

He kept going, his lips moving down your torso, each kiss making your breath catch as heat spread beneath your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, he paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his chest rising fast like he was trying to hold something back.

“I’ve heard you with him,” he said, his voice low. “I know what it sounds like when you fake it.”

Your body stilled as his words hit, your heart thudding hard as your breath tangled in your throat.

The room felt too quiet all of a sudden, too still, like the weight of what he said had filled every inch of the space between you.

Then he leaned in again, his mouth brushing just beneath your ear, and his voice dropped to a whisper that sent chills skimming down your spine.

“You’re not going to have to fake anything with me.”

Your breath caught as you looked at him, something hot and electric twisting deep in your stomach, and all you could think, through the haze of heat and disbelief, was where the hell did this confidence come from?

You didn’t know. But it was doing things to you. 

He slowly peeled your panties off and when he finally saw your glistening pussy, something inside him went feral.

“You’re soaked sweetheart and I haven’t even touched you,” he looked at you in awe.

“Clark, please,” you whimpered, hardly holding it together.

He obliged immediately, his lips grazing you as your hand flew to his hair.

His tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, collecting every drop of wetness before he ate you out like a starved man.

Your back arched, breath hitching as he adjusted his grip on your hips, anchoring you in place.

“Oh my god, Clark,” you moaned, closing your eyes with bliss as he sucked on your clit.

He worked with maddening patience, alternating between long, steady laps and licks that made your stomach twist in the best way.

You whimpered again, the sound caught somewhere between a gasp and his name, and he groaned in response, the vibration sending another shockwave through you.

His eyes flicked up for just a second, catching the way your chest rose and fell, the way your mouth parted as if you could barely breathe.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Every stroke of his tongue had you unraveling, which made your legs tremble.

You reached down, fingers threading through his hair again, and he leaned into your touch like he belonged there. Like this was where he was always meant to be.

When another moan slipped out, Clark groaned again like it physically hit him. His eyes were still on you, dark and focused, like he couldn’t believe this was real. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his breath hot against your dripping pussy. “Let me take care of you.”

You barely managed a nod, fingers tightening in his hair as your whole body tensed. The pressure inside you built fast as every nerve lit up and burned under his touch. 

And then everything snapped.

Your release crashed over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs as you came on his tongue. Your back arched, a choked moan spilling from your lips as your thighs trembled around him. 

When he finally slowed, he pulled back with his lips glistening and his cheeks flushed. He looked wrecked in the best way with his pupils blown wide and chest rising. 

Then he licked his lips, slow, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

You stared at him, eyes wide. “Oh my god.”

Clark just gave you a lopsided smile, still between your thighs like he had every right to be there.

“So freaking sweet,” he murmured, and before you could even think of a response, he was already moving, settling over you again, kissing you like he couldn’t help it. Like he didn’t care about anything else.

And you kissed him back like you felt the exact same way.

His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing your skin, his mouth hovering just above yours, breath warm and steady. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, like he needed you to hear it, “how long I’ve thought about this.”

Your pulse jumped, heat rising as your fingers curled into his shoulders. 

Your hand drifted lower, fingers hooking in the edge of his belt.

“Kinda weird you’ve been fantasizing about your roommate this whole time,” you said teasingly as you flashed him a grin.

Clark’s cheeks flushed, and he let out a quiet laugh that was so him it made your chest tighten.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Really weird.”

You tugged at the belt slowly, pulling him even closer to you.

“Good thing I’ve been fantasizing about mine too.”

Clark’s breath caught. His hands found your waist and he leaned in close, a smile brushing against your mouth.

“I’m never gonna survive this, am I?” he said quietly.

And you kissed him like you didn’t want him to.

[shangchiswife]

clark kent- the letter

summary: you find a letter from lois in clark’s jacket that he never told you about.

clark kent x gn!reader

warnings: none

word count: 1967

....

You were happy.

For the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

You had been dating Clark Kent for a while now, and it was easily the best relationship you’d ever been in. 

He treated you like you were something precious, like the world slowed down when you spoke. He carried all your bags without a second thought, let you ramble about everything and nothing, and actually listened, like every little detail meant the world to him.

It wasn’t just the big gestures either. It was the way he looked at you when you talked about something you cared about, like he hung on to your every word. The way he always remembered to bring you coffee exactly the way you liked it. The way his arms felt like a safe place.

With Clark, everything felt easier. Like maybe you could actually have a future that didn’t hurt to think about.

You were supposed to meet him for coffee. Just a quick break from work, the kind of little ritual you’d both fallen into. Every day around the same time, no matter how busy things got. Just ten minutes to be together.

You’d texted him that you were running late and he replied almost instantly, said, “Can’t wait to see your face.”

You smiled at your phone, pulling on his jacket without thinking. The brown one he always left at your place, the one that still smelled like him. Comforting and clean and warm in a way you couldn’t really explain.

You slid your hands into the pockets, digging around for that stupid gum he always had on him, the kind you liked but could never find anywhere.

Your fingers brushed paper.

You paused, confused, and pulled it out.

A puzzled look tugged at your face. It wasn’t a receipt or some old note. It was a piece of paper, folded twice, soft at the edges like it had been held a few times.

Clark.

That was all it said on the outside.

But you knew the handwriting.

Your stomach dropped.

Lois.

Before you ever came to the Daily Planet, it was no secret that Lois and Clark had been a thing.

Everyone knew.

It wasn’t messy or scandalous, just one of those office stories people liked to bring up when things got quiet and people were bored.

They broke up before you got there, said it was mutual, no hard feelings.

And when you and Clark got together, Lois was always nice to you. Smiled when she passed you in the hallway, asked about your day sometimes, made conversation like everything was fine.

But every now and then, when Clark would pull you close or say something that made you laugh too hard, you’d catch it. The way her smile slipped just a little. The way she looked at you out of the corner of her eye, frowning for half a second before she looked away.

You never said anything. And neither did he.

So you let yourself believe it was nothing.

Until now.

This letter, sitting in your hand like it had been waiting.

You stood there for a second, just staring at it.

Your fingers started folding it back without really thinking, moving slowly like you were afraid of creasing it wrong. You slipped it into the pocket like it hadn’t just made your stomach twist.

Your face felt hot. Your chest hurt.

You didn’t cry.

You just grabbed your phone, still sitting face-up on the counter, and read the message that had come in a few minutes earlier.

Can’t wait to see your face.

Your thumb hovered over the screen as your throat tightened. Then you locked it and shoved it in your bag.

You didn’t go to the coffee shop. You couldn’t. How could you?

You grabbed your keys, slipped on your shoes, and left without thinking, like maybe if you moved fast enough, you could outrun the way your stomach felt.

You walked aimlessly for hours with no direction or destination. Just you and the sound of your own footsteps and the weight of something you weren’t ready to name.

It didn't take long for your phone to start buzzing.

Over and over.

You ignored it for a while. Let it rattle in your bag like background noise, like maybe if you didn’t look, it wouldn’t be real.

But eventually you pulled it out.

Thirty missed calls. All from Clark.

And texts. Too many to count.

Where are you? Did something happen? Are you okay? Please answer me. I’m going out of my mind here.

You kept scrolling.

Jimmy had texted. Hey, you good? Clark’s looking for you everywhere.

Someone from your team had messaged as well. Just checking in. Need anything?

Then there was even one from Lois.

Clark’s worried sick about you. I’ve never seen him like this. Are you okay?

Your thumb hovered over it.

You read it again. And again. Until the words started to blur.

That was when your hands started shaking.

Your whole body buzzing in a way that didn’t feel right. Your chest was tight and your breaths turned shallow.

You locked the phone and stuffed it right back in your bag like it was burning you.

You went home. Somehow. You didn’t even remember the walk.

When you got there, you threw his jacket over the chair and curled up on the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, trying to breathe through the nausea twisting in your stomach.

You hadn’t cried. Not really. But you felt emotionally wrecked. Every part of you felt like it was vibrating just under your skin.

Suddenly, the windows of your apartment shook and there was a loud gust of wind and a sharp whoosh behind you.

You jumped, already too on edge, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned around.

It was Clark.

He was standing in your living room, still in the suit, hair tousled from the wind, eyes locked on you like the second he saw you was the first time he could breathe all day.

You didn’t move.

You just stared at him, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders tense, your whole body coiled like you didn’t trust it to stay upright.

He stepped forward, slow, careful.

“I knocked,” he said, voice low. “You weren’t answering. I didn’t know where you were...I was-I was scared something happened.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You don’t get to do that,” you said, the words coming out sharper than you expected.

He blinked, his eyes confused. “Do what?”

But you weren’t listening anymore. Your throat burned and your skin felt too tight.

You let out a bitter laugh. Just one. Short and ugly and full of something you didn’t have the words for.

Clark flinched like you’d struck him.

His whole expression shifted.

“I-I didn’t know something was wrong,” he said, softer this time. “I didn’t understand why you-”

“I found it,” you said, cutting him off.

“Found what?” he stilled, his blue eyes full of concern.

You let the silence hang for a second. 

“The letter,” you said finally, your voice flat. “The one in your jacket pocket.”

Confusion flickered across his face and then it quickly shifted.

You watched the realization hit him and watched him deflate right in front of you.

“I wasn’t looking for anything,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less sharp. “I was just grabbing gum. That pink one you always have for me.”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out at first. 

“I forgot it was there.”

That made your chest ache worse.

“You forgot,” you repeated in disbelief, and the words felt like poison in your throat.

“I didn’t write back. I didn’t even open it again after the first time,” he said quickly, like he needed you to believe it before you could say anything else. “I wasn’t hiding it, I just-”

“You just didn’t think it mattered enough to tell me,” you said, eyes burning now.

Clark stepped forward again, slower this time.

You could see it in his eyes, the panic, the guilt, the desperation to say the right thing but not knowing what that was.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “It wasn’t anything. I swear to you, it wasn’t anything.”

You didn’t answer.

Your body was too tired to hold it in anymore.

Your knees gave out completely and you sank to the floor, the weight in your chest pulling everything down with it.

Your breathing was off. Too fast, too shallow, every inhale feeling like it got stuck halfway. Your hands pressed against the carpet like the ground might fall out from under you.

Clark dropped down in front of you immediately. He didn’t touch you. His hands hovered, shaking slightly, eyes wide and frantic.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and tight, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

You tried to speak. Nothing came out. Your lungs refused.

Your chest was too tight, your vision too blurred, your heart pounding in your ears.

Clark said your name again in a manner so broken like it hurt him just to say it.

Then you saw the way his eyes filled with tears, the way he looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers. Like all the power in the world meant nothing if it couldn’t fix this.

He looked like he didn’t know what to do.

Like the strongest man in the world had no idea how to help the one person he needed not to lose.

He reached for you again, but gently this time. His hands barely touched your arms, just enough to let you know he was there. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

You were still trembling, your breath coming in short bursts that didn’t feel like enough.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice shaking. “Please… just look at me.”

You blinked slowly, your gaze dragging up to his.

His eyes were glassy. Red-rimmed. There was so much pain in them you almost couldn’t look.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not of Lois. Not of the letter. But of what it would do to this. To us. I was selfish. I told myself I was protecting you, but I was protecting me.”

Your chest was still aching, but the words started to break through the fog.

“I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, it would just go away. But it didn’t. And I let you find it. I let you sit with it, alone, and I hate myself for that.”

He leaned forward a little more, his forehead almost touching yours, like he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t know what it did to me, not being able to find you today. Not knowing if you were okay. I’ve flown through fire, I’ve pulled people out of rubble-”

He broke off. Swallowed hard.

“But I have never been more scared than I was today. I didn’t care about anything except getting to you.”

Your breathing was still shaky, but the sharp edge was starting to fade. Your hands unclenched.

His voice softened again.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Not because you saved me or because you’re good for me. But because when I’m with you, I remember who I am.”

You closed your eyes for a second, your forehead resting against his.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

He shook his head slowly, his voice breaking.

“You didn’t. You never could.”

And when he kissed you, it was wet with tears. It tasted like pain and apology and something deeper than either of you had the words for.

But it was real.

And it was yours.

[shangchiswife]

lex luthor- write about this

summary: you hate lex luthor. you’ve written countless articles exposing Lex Luthor as a monster, but the moment he touches you, something inside you shifts.

lex luthor x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 2775

....

The moment Lex Luthor saw you from across the ballroom, his lips curled into something between a scowl and a smirk.

You were laughing with your coworkers from the Daily Planet, your glass of wine untouched in your hand as you told some story that made Jimmy nearly spit out his drink.

The dark blue gown you wore shimmered softly beneath the chandeliers, hugging your waist like it was made for you.

And maybe it was.

You looked polished, radiant even, and if Lex hadn’t known you, he might have called you beautiful.

But he did know you.

He knew the venom you had laced between every line of your articles, the way you stripped him down on the page with infuriating precision.

He had read every piece.

Some he’d thrown across the room, others he’d reread with a slow-burning interest that he refused to name. You were relentless, brilliant, and utterly exhausting.

So of course you were here.

He set his champagne down, adjusted the cufflink on his left wrist, then started toward you.

You sensed him before you saw him.

Maybe it was the shift in air, or the sudden silence that settled over your group as their eyes drifted behind you. 

You turned slowly, already knowing. And when your gaze met his, your expression twisted with disgust.

Your eyes dropped briefly to his mouth, then back up again.

“Luthor,” you said flatly, glaring at him.

He stopped close enough to be inappropriate, like he didn’t care who was watching.

He didn’t.

“Well don't you clean up nice,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with something dangerous simmering beneath it.

You gave him a once-over, unimpressed, though the flutter in your stomach betrayed you.

“Shame about your personality,” you replied, your voice dipped in venom, but your throat tightened when he tilted his head and smiled like he could see right through you.

Lex leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the scent of his cologne, definitely something expensive. His breath brushed your ear as he spoke.

“You still think about me when you write those hit pieces, don’t you?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second too long.

“Only when I need to remind myself what unchecked power looks like.”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening. “Then I suppose I should give you something new to write about.”

Your breath hitched, heat blooming low in your belly before you could stop it. You hated him. You really, truly did.

But god, there was something in the way he looked at you like he already knew how you’d fall apart if he wanted you to.

And that was the problem.

Because part of you wanted him to.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

His gaze dropped then, raking over you like a hand without ever touching. From your painted lips to the soft slope of your shoulders, down to where the dark blue gown clung to your waist and draped along your hips like it had been stitched by sin itself. His eyes lingered there, bold and shameless, before dragging back up to meet yours with a spark that made your breath catch.

You hated the way your skin prickled under his stare. Hated how aware you suddenly were of the way the fabric hugged your body. Of the heat pooling at the base of your spine.

The group around you had gone quiet. You could feel every set of eyes flicking between the two of you, the tension coiling thick and heavy. 

Jimmy shifted awkwardly beside you. Lois muttered something under her breath and someone cleared their throat.

But Lex didn’t move.

He leaned in, just a fraction, voice pitched low enough for only you to hear.

“You know,” he murmured, eyes flicking once more over your figure, “That dress does unspeakable things for your body.”

You inhaled too sharply. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your mind, usually sharp, was suddenly blank except for the pulse thudding loud in your ears.

He smiled, pleased, like he had won something without even trying.

Then he stepped back, smooth and poised, letting his gaze linger one last time.

“Try not to write anything about me tomorrow,” he said, voice light, mocking. “Or do. You always did have a talent for making me sound… unforgettable.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like he hadn’t just set you on fire.

You stood frozen, every nerve buzzing as you tried to catch your breath.

Your coworkers were staring, every single one of them pretending not to. 

Jimmy looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Perry’s brows were furrowed, clearly already regretting giving you that assignment six months ago. And Lois didn’t even try to hide her reaction.

She nudged your arm, her brow raised so high it practically touched her hairline. “Okay. You gonna explain whatever that was, or should we all just assume you’ve been secretly banging the devil?”

Jimmy choked on his drink. “Oh my god, Lois,”

“I am not-” you said sharply, then glanced around and lowered your voice. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

Lois just stared at you, unimpressed. “But you’ve thought about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to snap something back, but the words caught.

You couldn’t deny it.

Not with the heat still simmering under your skin, not after the way his voice still echoed in your ear like a secret.

Not often, and never on purpose. But in quiet moments, in passing thoughts, in that narrow space between rage and something else. 

You had thought about it. 

And now that he had stood close enough to feel the heat off his body, now that he had whispered things that made your chest tighten, those thoughts didn’t feel so abstract anymore.

You looked down, tried to cool the flush on your face. “He’s manipulative. Arrogant. Smug.”

“Hot,” Lois said with a shrug, her lips forming a smirk as she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Objectively, sure,” you muttered.

Perry finally spoke up, his voice dry. “For the record, I don’t care what that man whispered in your ear, I’m not pulling your next exposé just because he made you blush.”

Everyone laughed at that.

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This night is cursed.”

Jimmy, still recovering, piped up with a grin. “At least if it did happen, you wouldn’t have to worry about messing up his hair.”

The group burst into laughter again.

Lois giggled. “Oh god, Jimmy, stop.”

You glared at both of them. “You all are genuinely insufferable.”

Lois snorted. “Honestly, that man looked at you like he was planning world domination and trying to undress you with his eyes.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because somewhere in the back of your mind, Lex’s voice still purred like silk.

Lethal.

And the worst part?

You wanted to hear it again.

….

It had been three days since the ballroom.

Three days since Lex Luthor looked at you like he could unravel you with a glance and then had the nerve to whisper in your ear like he already had.

You’d tried everything to forget it. Buried yourself in drafts, interviews, even sat through a two-hour Zoom meeting just to dull the static. But it hadn’t helped. He had taken up residence in your head like it was his latest acquisition.

And when the black envelope appeared on your desk with no return name, just his initials pressed into wax, you already knew you were going.

The note inside was short. A location. A time. No explanation. But you didn’t need one.

Now, you stood in the middle of his penthouse suite, windows framing the city like a painting, the only light coming from the low glow of a few recessed fixtures and the skyline beyond. The room was silent, except for the soft clink of glass as Lex turned toward you, swirling something dark in his tumbler, watching you like you were already his.

“You’re late,” he said coolly, eyes dragging over you like he was measuring something, like you were being appraised.

You arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware I accepted an invitation.”

He stepped forward slowly, the sound of his shoes against the polished floor sharp and deliberate. “You showed up, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low and calm, but there was something sharper under it. “You always do.”

You didn’t respond. Not right away.

His eyes flicked over you again, from the slight curve of your mouth to the dip of your neckline. “Blue again,” he noted. “You must like the way it makes you look obedient.”

Your lip curled.

“You think I wore this for you?” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“I think,” he said, stopping just a breath away, “you want me to look.”

“And you want me to slap you.”

He smiled, something wicked curling at the edge of his mouth. “I’d recover.”

You hated him.

God, you hated the way he made your blood run hot, the way his voice crawled down your spine like silk.

But you didn’t move.

You didn’t stop him when his hand came to rest at your waist, firm and possessive, his thumb brushing slow circles into the fabric.

“You hate me,” he murmured, his face now so close you could feel the heat of his breath, “but I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”

Your heart stuttered, your breath caught.

“Careful,” you said, voice thinner than you meant, “you’re starting to sound obsessed.”

Lex leaned in, lips brushing your ear, the heat of his words making your knees go weak. “Oh, I am.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was bruising, like he had been waiting for this moment and was going to punish you for making him wait.

His mouth claimed yours with an unforgiving kind of hunger, and you matched it, biting his lip hard enough to make him growl low in his throat.

He backed you against the cold glass window, his hands dragging along your sides, one moving up to grip your jaw and tilt your face to his liking.

“You’re such a goddamn brat,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough, breath unsteady.

You smirked against his mouth. “And you love it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, mouth swollen.

“No,” he said. “I crave it. There’s a difference.”

Then his mouth was on your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs, dragging the hem of your dress with them. You gasped when his fingers dug into your hips and when his teeth grazed your skin.

“You think you’re in control,” he whispered, lips brushing just beneath your ear, “but the second I touch you, you forget your own name.”

You let out a shaky breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. “I still know one name. And it’s the one I’ve torn to pieces in print.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said darkly, “keep pretending you can destroy me. It makes fucking you so much more satisfying.”

Then he kissed you again, more possessive, his body pressing into yours until there was nothing left between you but heat and friction and a pull you couldn’t fight anymore. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said again, his voice rough and low, words vibrating against your lips.

You looked up at him, defiant, breathless, every inch of your body alight and aching.

“Not a chance.”

Your voice barely came out, breathless and defiant, but it was enough.

His expression shifted immediately, like the answer had cracked something open in him, something dark and patient that no longer felt like waiting.

“Good because I wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured.

Then his mouth was on yours again, rougher this time, like he was done holding back. His hands roamed your body fast, gripping your waist, pulling you against him until your spine met the cold glass and you gasped. 

One of his hands slipped beneath the hem of your dress, moving up the inside of your thigh with a kind of control that made your breath catch.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, tugged them down with one clean movement, and caught them just before they hit the floor. 

You blinked, barely able to react before he shoved them casually into the pocket of his slacks like he was pocketing a favor you’d just handed over willingly.

“Are you kidding?” you breathed.

Lex looked pleased at your reaction. 

“Call it insurance.”

You stared at him, torn between smacking him and grabbing him by the collar.

“You’re unbelievable.” you rolled your eyes.

“And you’re not stopping me.”

Your lips crashed into his again, hard and messy, hands fisting into the front of his shirt as he shifted closer.

He kissed you back like he was starved for it, like this was something he’d thought about too many times. And then he broke the kiss, just long enough to free himself.

You glanced down on instinct.

He was big.

Your breath caught.

“Oh.”

He stilled, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Really?” he said, voice low. “That’s the reaction?”

“I just-” you started, then shook your head.

“You know what just shut up.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, clearly savoring the moment. “I’d be flattered if you weren’t already soaking for me.”

You would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so focused on the heat curling deep in your stomach. He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he lifted your thigh around his waist, lined himself up, and with one slow, devastating thrust, pushed inside you.

The stretch stole your breath. Your head fell back against the glass, a soft, broken sound catching in your throat.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

Lex groaned low, his fingers digging into your hip. “So tight,” he breathed. “You were made for this-made for me,”

He pulled back, just enough to drag out the next thrust, and your body jolted with it. You clung to him, nails pressing into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, your whole body arching into the rhythm he was building.

“Is this what you pictured?” he muttered, breath hot against your neck. “When you wrote all those nasty little articles about me? When you said I was heartless?”

You moaned quietly, but didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” he demanded, snapping his hips into yours harder this time. “Tell me that you thought about it.”

You gasped, the impact knocking the words out of you. “Maybe,” you choked.

Lex grinned, vicious and satisfied. “Thought so.”

His hand slipped between you, fingers toying with your clit, and your whole body tensed. 

The pleasure built fast, sharp and hot, your legs beginning to shake from the way he kept thrusting.

“Say it,” he growled, hips slamming into yours. “Say you’re gonna come.”

You refused, biting your lip hard, but your body betrayed you. 

You were so close, your moans catching in your throat, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“Say it.”

“I’m-fuck-I’m gonna-”

His mouth was right at your ear when he said it, voice low and filthy, wrecked at the edges.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Come apart for me.”

And you did.

You came hard, your whole body locking up, a cry torn from you as you clenched around him, shaking against the glass as he kept fucking you through it. 

Your vision blurred, your fingers digging into his arms, and somewhere in the haze, you heard him groan low, rough, his rhythm faltering.

Then he shoved his cock in deep one last time and came with a sharp exhale.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your head resting back against the glass, one of his hands still holding your thigh in place, the other gripping your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Eventually, he pulled back slightly, eyes flicking to your face, still smug even as he caught his breath.

“I’m keeping those,” he said with a smirk as he tapped his pocket.

You looked at him, lips parted, still trying to breathe. “You’re a menace.”

Lex leaned in, kissed you slowly this time, like he was savoring the ruin.

“You’ll come back,” he said softly against your mouth.

Then, as he pulled back, his eyes lingered on you like a challenge already won.

“When you write about me,” he said, voice low and cool, “make sure you spell satisfaction right.”

[shangchiswife]

clark kent- the first to fight

summary: you were stuck in an abusive relationship, thinking no one would ever care until clark proved you wrong.

clark kent x fem! reader

warnings: abuse, cursing

word count: 3699

....

You took a deep breath before stepping into the Daily Planet, the glass doors parting with a soft whoosh that felt far too gentle for how hard your heart was pounding. 

Your fingers clutched the strap of your bag as you made your way to the elevator with your head low and your sweater sleeves tugged past your wrists. 

You hadn’t even meant to look at your reflection in the glass on the way in, but you looked anyway.

Your makeup cracked ever so slightly under your eye, the faintest purple tint peeking through no matter how many layers of concealer you’d put on.

You’d tried. God, you’d tried. But no amount of makeup could fully erase a bruise like that.

Last night had started badly and ended worse.

Your boyfriend Luke came in late, slamming the door so hard your glass of water rattled on the coffee table. There was already a beer in his hand and another in the pocket of his jacket. 

He didn’t say anything right away, just stared at you with that lazy smirk that used to make your stomach flutter but now only made it turn with fear.

You were on the couch, surrounded by papers, still trying to finish the piece you’d been assigned. You didn’t even look up.

“You’re drunk,” you said quietly.

That was enough.

His voice cut through the silence, low and mean. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

You stood up too fast, heart already racing as you stared at Luke with wide eyes.

“Luke, you’re drunk. Maybe you should sit down before you break something,” you spoke, putting your arms out in front of you in defense.

He walked straight toward you, his grip iron-tight as he grabbed your arm making you yelp.

The papers flew from your lap like falling leaves.

“You think you get to talk to me like that?” he spat, dragging you closer, his breath hot against your face.

He reeked of beer making you recoil.

“Let go of me,” you whimpered, your lip trembling as you tried to yank your arm back.

He didn’t let go. Instead, his other hand curled into a fist.

You should've seen it coming.

Pain exploded through your face as his knuckles connected with your eye. 

You fell back onto the floor with a choked gasp, the corner of the coffee table cutting through your side as you crumpled.

For a second, everything went silent and all you could see were stars. Then your ears rang, your cheek throbbed, and the room felt too bright and too dark at the same time.

Luke didn’t even say a word. He just sneered at you, tossed the empty bottle to the floor, and disappeared into the bedroom.

You had stayed there, curled up in a ball on the hardwood floor, too afraid to move.

Now, you stepped out of the elevator onto the bullpen floor, the noise of ringing phones and clacking keys doing nothing to calm you. You kept your head down as you made your way to your desk, praying no one would notice.

Especially not him.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Clark’s sweet voice hit you before you even looked up. 

You turned slowly, forcing a smile. “Hey,” you said with your voice thin.

He was already holding out a coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. 

“Double espresso and a chocolate croissant. You skipped breakfast again, didn’t you?” he said teasingly, his eyes crinkling just slightly.

You nodded, hoping the swell under your eye wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Clark tilted his head slightly. 

His eyes flickered to your face, then back to your hands. 

His smile softened, but something changed in his expression, just enough to make your stomach twist.

He saw something. 

Maybe not the bruise itself, but the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes. The way your hands shook just enough when you reached for the cup.

“You okay?” he asked, voice lower now, gentle like he was afraid the wrong word might make you break.

“I’m fine,” you lied, sipping the coffee like it could wash away the night before. 

“Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night.”

Clark didn’t press. He never did. He just gave you a quiet look like he knew there was more and wouldn’t force you to say it.

He was always like that. Kind, thoughtful, the kind of person who remembered your birthday without a calendar and let you take all the assignments you found fun even when they were his first. He always brought you little pastries when he got his own and always offered to walk you to your car even if it was pouring.

You didn’t know how someone like him existed in the same world as someone like your boyfriend.

And part of you didn’t understand why someone like you kept going home to that apartment when you had to cover bruises to come into work.

But you did understand. Deep down, you knew.

Because Luke had made sure you did.

He had stood over you more than once, fists clenched, voice sharp and cruel as he spat the same venomous lines you’d come to memorize.

“No one’s gonna take care of you like I do,” he’d hissed once, just inches from your face, your back against the kitchen counter, heart pounding so loud you couldn’t hear anything else. 

“You really think anyone else would put up with you? You’re pathetic. Broken. You’re lucky I haven’t left you in the gutter yet, you stupid bitch.”

You hadn’t said anything. You never did. Because if you argued, it got worse. If you stayed quiet, though, sometimes he walked away.

So you stayed.

You stayed, and you told yourself you were managing. That if you just tried harder, said less, smiled more, maybe he’d stop.

But now, standing in the middle of the newsroom with Clark Kent holding out a coffee and watching you like he actually saw you, like he actually cared, something inside you cracked.

“Hey. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” he spoke softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded quickly, blinking faster than you should have. Your throat burned as you held back tears.

“Thanks,” you whispered before you turned back to your desk, holding onto the coffee like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You didn’t see the way Clark kept glancing at you through the morning. Didn’t hear him sigh under his breath when he thought you weren’t looking. 

But when lunch rolled around, he pushed away from his desk and crossed the bullpen, making a beeline for Jimmy and Lois, who were mid-conversation by the break room.

“Hey,” Clark said, voice a little lower than usual. He looked back toward your desk. “Do you guys think something’s... off with her today?”

Jimmy glanced past Clark’s shoulder with a smirk. 

“You mean besides the fact that you’ve been staring at her like a lovesick golden retriever for the past three hours?”

Lois nearly choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, Clark. I mean c'mon, could you be more obvious?”

“I’m serious,” he said, frowning. “I think something’s wrong.”

“She probably just had a bad morning,” Lois said, nudging him with her elbow. “Not everything’s a crisis, Kent. And besides, maybe she’s just immune to your farm boy charm.”

“She’s not immune,” Jimmy said, smirking. “She’s just oblivious. You could be on one knee proposing with a diamond ring, and she’d still think you were tying your shoe.”

Clark didn’t laugh. 

He looked back toward you again, watching as you sat rigid at your desk, pretending to read through a stack of notes while your untouched croissant sat cooling beside you.

He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t want to assume. But he knew pain when he saw it.

And you looked like someone trying way too hard to hold yourself together.

….

You sat stiffly at your desk, fingers moving over the keyboard as you tried to lose yourself in the article in front of you. Something about a museum exhibit reopening. It was supposed to be an easy piece. But the words blurred the longer you stared at them, and the ache in your cheek throbbed beneath the makeup.

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced down, already knowing who it was before you even read the name.

Luke: I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I swear I’ll never hurt you again. I promise, baby. You know I love you. Please don’t give up on us.

Your breath hitched.

You stared at the message, jaw clenched, the familiar chill crawling up your spine like it always did after a night like that.

The words were always the same. Always gentle, always sweet, like they hadn’t been spoken by the same mouth that had called you worthless, the same hands that had bruised your skin.

You let out a broken laugh as you continued to stare at your screen.

God. You were so tired.

It was always the same. The same cycle. The same promises. The same guilt. You knew how this would go. He’d be sweet for a week, maybe two, and then something would set him off. A look. A word. A breath. And then it would start again.

You’re so pathetic. No one else would want you.

Maybe he was right.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stay hidden. You couldn’t fall apart here. Not where people could see. Not where Clark could see.

But he already had.

From across the bullpen, Clark’s eyes were fixed on you, concern etched across his face. 

He hadn’t seen the text. But he saw the way your shoulders tensed. The way your laughter didn’t sound like your normal laughter at all.

You didn’t notice his staring. You were too deep in thought. Too caught in the loop of every time you’d forgiven Luke and every time it had ended with you hiding bruises in bathroom mirrors.

You deserve better, some small voice always whispered in the back of your mind.

But another voice, the one that had been carved into you over months of apologies and blame kept saying, This is just what love looks like when you’re hard to love.

You didn’t know which one to believe anymore.

And Clark, still watching you from across the room, clenched his jaw like he was fighting the urge to step in and pull you away from whatever storm he could see in your eyes.

Clark couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with your boyfriend.

He remembered the first time he met him and he immediately didn’t like him.

….

There had been a company party a few months back, one of those rooftop things Perry liked to throw after a big edition dropped.

Everyone was in a good mood with drinks flowing and laughter bouncing off the city skyline. And then you’d walked in, hand-in-hand with Luke.

Clark had been standing near the bar, halfway through a conversation with Lois, but his eyes had immediately found you. He’d been hoping that maybe you’d show up alone. 

But there he was.

Luke had swaggered in like he owned the place, sharp smile and cocky energy that didn’t belong in a room full of tired journalists. He shook Clark’s hand too hard, slapped Jimmy on the back, and immediately started talking about himself.

“I told her she needed to get a real job, but you know, she likes this little writer gig,” Luke had said with a loud laugh, throwing his arm over your shoulder like you were some prize he’d won. “She’s got that cute little focused face when she types. Real intense. I always joke that she looks like she’s trying to crack some secret government code or something.”

You didn’t laugh.

Clark remembered it vividly, how your body stiffened under his touch, how your eyes darted around the room like you were trying to find a way out. Your smile was there, but it wasn’t a happy one.

Then Luke had started drinking.

And that was when things got worse.

He’d pulled you closer with one hand on your waist, whispering things in your ear that Clark could tell you didn’t like. Your hands came up to gently push him away, and you tried to step back, tried to laugh it off like it wasn’t uncomfortable, like you weren’t quietly begging him to stop without making a scene.

Clark’s eyes had narrowed.

He saw the way you avoided looking at anyone. How you kept brushing Luke’s hands away whenever they drifted too low, how you tried to inch toward the group but he kept pulling you back, whispering something else in your ear that made your face fall.

You’d whispered something then. 

Clark didn’t know what you said, but Luke’s expression shifted in an instant. The smirk faded. His hand gripped your wrist just a little too tight.

“You’re embarrassing me,” Clark remembered hearing him mutter, his voice low and dark.

Then he grabbed your purse off the table and tugged you toward the elevator, not even bothering to say goodbye.

You didn’t fight him.

You just followed, head down, like you didn’t have a choice.

Clark had taken a step forward, but Lois had grabbed his arm. “Not now,” she whispered. “Not here.”

And Clark had just stood there, jaw clenched, heart sinking, watching the elevator doors close behind you.

He didn’t know what had happened when you got home. But he could guess.

And now, seeing you sitting at your desk, hands over your face, phone buzzing with another pathetic apology, he knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t okay.

And it was getting harder and harder to pretend that you were.

….

It was the end of the day, the golden hue of sunset stretching across the newsroom windows as people filtered out, their voices fading into quiet goodbyes and the hum of the city beginning to wake outside. 

You sat at your desk longer than necessary, pretending to organize papers, pretending you had more to do, when really you just couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Because the moment you stood, the moment you walked out of that building, you’d be going back to him.

Back to the apartment that never felt like home. Back to cold glares and unpredictable hands and apologies that meant nothing anymore.

Your phone buzzed again and it was another text from Luke. 

Luke: I miss you. I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you.

You shoved the phone in your bag without replying.

You stood slowly, but your body ached with every movement. You hadn’t even realized how sore your arm still was from where he’d grabbed you the night before. As you turned toward the elevator, your legs wobbled under you, the exhaustion catching up all at once.

You stumbled, catching yourself on the corner of your desk, but not before a firm hand reached out to steady you.

Clark.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low and calm. His hand was warm on your arm, but your breath caught when it pressed right where the bruise sat hidden beneath your sleeve.

You winced.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head too fast, too defensive. “No, I’m fine.”

But his eyes didn’t leave yours. Slowly, carefully, he reached for your sleeve. “Can I…?”

You didn’t move, and you didn’t even try to stop him.

He lifted the fabric just enough to see the edge of the bruise. It was a deep purple color with yellow at the edges. It wasn’t the first.

Clark’s expression crumpled as he stared at your arm.

“Did he do this to you?” he asked softly.

You just broke.

The tears came so fast you couldn’t stop them. You turned away quickly, covering your face with both hands, but Clark was already there, guiding you away from your desk, shielding you from the few remaining people in the office.

He led you to the stairwell and waited while you sat down on the steps and cried into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I really didn’t want you to see that.”

“I’m glad I did,” he said, kneeling next to you. “You don't deserve this at all,”

You looked at him with your eyes red and cheeks wet. 

“You don’t get it. He’s all I have.”

“No,” Clark said firmly but gently, “He’s not. He hurts you. That’s not love. You deserve better than this.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and his expression shifted.

“It kills me that you think this is what love is,” he said, quieter now. “That someone like him made you believe this is all you’re worth.”

You couldn’t breathe.

“You deserve more,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “So much more. And I hate that you don’t see it… because I see it. Every single day.”

He swallowed hard, like there was more he wanted to say but was afraid to.

You could see it all over his face, how much it hurt him to see you hurting.

How much he wished he could take all of it away.

You just sat there, heart cracked open, wishing you could be the kind of girl who ended up with someone like Clark.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Then he held out his hand.

You stared at it for a second, unsure if you were ready for even that small touch. But when your fingers slipped into his, something shifted. There was warmth, a quiet pull, something electric that passed between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

His eyes met yours, and you could tell he felt it too.

You hesitated, your voice barely a whisper. “Clark.”

He gave your hand the slightest squeeze. “No arguments,” he said quietly. “I’m not letting you walk back alone.”

So you nodded. 

You followed him out into the street, and the sun had dipped low now, the sky washed in orange and pink.

He walked beside you in silence, his presence calming you. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know what you needed.

But when you reached your building, everything you had been trying not to feel came rushing back at once.

The fear. The memories. The darkness.

Clark stopped on the sidewalk. “You shouldn’t go back in there,” he said quietly. “You can come with me. Or I’ll stay. Whatever you need. But please don’t go back to him.”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes were still fixed on the door.

And then it opened.

Luke.

He stood in the doorway with his plaid shirt wrinkled and his jaw tight. His eyes immediately locked onto Clark, then dropped to your arm still hovering close to his.

“What the hell is this?” he said angrily.

Clark stepped forward, his body instinctively shifting to shield you. “She’s not going back in there with you.”

Luke’s fake smile dropped. “And who the hell are you to decide that?”

Clark didn’t flinch at his words.

“I’m someone who actually gives a damn,” his voice was steady and controlled. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Luke’s face twisted. He stormed forward, shoving Clark hard in the chest.

“Mind your own business,” he snarled, venom in every word. “She’s mine.”

“No,” Clark growled, shoving him back with just as much force, fists clenched now, his whole stance coiled like a spring. 

“She’s not.”

Luke’s eyes burned as he turned his fury on you. “You think he’s better than me?” he spat, voice rising as he grabbed your arm. “You think you’re walking away from me like this is over?”

You cried out, trying to wrench free from his tight grip.

“Luke stop!”

The sound of your voice cracked through the air.

Clark moved in a flash.

He grabbed Luke’s arm and tore it away from you, stepping between you so fast you barely saw it happen.

“I said don’t touch her,” Clark snapped, his voice cold now, dangerous in a way you’d never heard before.

Luke swung without warning, but Clark blocked it with ease, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him back against the wall of the building.

Another hit came from Luke, wilder this time, but Clark dodged and delivered one clean punch to his jaw. Then another to his ribs. 

Luke stumbled back, dazed, trying to lunge again, but Clark struck him hard in the chest, knocking the wind from him.

Luke dropped to the sidewalk, gasping, face twisted in pain and humiliation.

Clark stood over him, breathing hard, fists still clenched, but his eyes were calm.

“You don’t ever touch her again,” he said, his blue eyes sharp and unflinching. “You don’t speak to her again. Do you understand me?”

Luke didn’t answer. He just groaned, dragging himself back toward the building.

You stood frozen, your body trembling, eyes wide and wet. The tears hit before you could stop them.

You moved without thinking, rushing forward and throwing your arms around Clark, burying your face in his chest as you broke.

He caught you instantly, his arms wrapping around you with no hesitation, one hand cradling the back of your head. You felt his breath hitch at the sudden closeness, his chest rising sharply against you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, voice softer now. “You’re okay. I got you.”

You clung to him, sobbing into the fabric of his coat. “No one’s ever fought for me before.”

Clark didn’t say anything right away. He just held you tighter.

When you finally looked up at him, tears streaking your cheeks, he gave you the softest, most lopsided little smile.

It was crooked and gentle and so full of quiet care that your heart soared.

“Guess I’ll have to be the first,” he murmured.

And just like that, with your cheek pressed to his chest and his arms around you like a promise, something inside you shifted.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

[shangchiswife]

lex luthor- made to obey

summary: you help lex let off some steam

lex x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 2249

....

The door to Lex Luthor’s office slammed so hard it rattled the glass. 

You froze mid-motion, fingers still grazing the edge of the papers you had just finished organizing on his desk.

Your body went still, your heart skipping, but you didn’t speak. You didn’t move.

You knew better than that.

He didn’t look at you. Just strode across the room with a fury that clung to him like a second skin. His coat hit the chair with a careless throw, and he dropped into his seat angrily. 

You could practically see the veins popping out of his neck.

You had seen him furious before but this was something else

And you already knew the reason.

Superman.

Again.

The news was everywhere.

He had dismantled whatever Lex had been working on behind the scenes, exposed it with effortless precision, and saved a crowd of people while doing it. Per usual the cameras caught the whole thing. The media was already painting Superman as the flawless hero.

Again.

Lex didn’t speak at first.

He just sat there with his hand clenched against the armrest and the muscles in his jaw ticking as he stared at nothing. His breathing was shallow and uneven.

Then his eyes snapped towards you.

“You’re still standing there,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Why?”

He stood up slowly as he stared daggers at you, like he was holding himself back from ripping into the nearest thing he could reach.

“You think sorting paper makes you important? You think standing there, playing obedient, makes you useful?” He moved closer, voice colder. 

“You’re not here because you’re good. You’re here because it would waste more of my time to replace you than to put up with your constant incompetence.”

The words landed hard.

Despite his cruel words, you didn’t flinch, but it took effort. It always did.

“You waste my time. You ask too many questions. And you look at me like you think I need saving.” He scoffed, disgusted.

“I don’t.”

You didn’t speak. Your face stayed still, but your chest was tight. You weren’t sure if it was anger or shame.

Maybe both.

You didn’t even know why you still worked here. It wasn’t the job. It definitely wasn’t the hours. It wasn’t the way he treated you, because God knew he made it clear you were expendable.

He barely looked at you like a person half the time. But still, something in you wanted to matter to him.

To be seen. Maybe even needed.

You had always found him attractive in some sick way.

You didn’t try to reason it out anymore. It was something about the intelligence, the control, the way he moved like he owned everything and didn’t have to ask for anything. Even the cruelty pulled you in. The way he never apologized for it, never explained himself.

And sometimes, you thought he might have found you attractive too. There were moments when his glances lingered too long, a shift in his voice when no one else was around. The way he said your name like it tasted wrong but stuck to his teeth anyway.

Maybe you were just in your own head. Maybe none of it meant anything.

Maybe you just wanted it to.

Then his voice dropped.

“I need your mouth.”

Your breath caught at his words. He heard it. You knew he did.

He stepped closer. The space between you didn’t feel like space anymore.

“Now,” 

He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, watching, like he was giving you one last chance to do what he wanted without being told again.

Then, slowly, he turned and walked back to his desk.

He sat down like he owned the world and was already bored with it.

He leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs, one arm resting lazily on the armrest. His other hand tapped once against his thigh expectantly, like he was giving you instructions without saying a word.

You stared at him a second too long, your mouth hanging open like a goldfish.

You couldn’t lie. He looked good like that. Calm, in control, and cruel. 

Just like always.

You had dreamed about this. You hated that you wanted him. Hated that he could treat you like nothing and still leave you wanting more. Still leave you hoping he’d look at you like this.

And now he was.

Not ignoring you. Not talking over you. Just waiting calmly.

His fingers tapped again against his thigh.

“Wipe that dumb look off your face,” he said, voice cold. “And please me. I’m not going to ask again.”

You stepped forward, your pulse loud in your ears.

The space between you disappeared inch by inch, until there was nothing left but silence.

He shifted slightly in the chair like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Like he didn’t have to think about you at all.

Then, just loud enough to hear, his voice cut through the quiet.

“Good girl.”

Your heart practically fluttered at his words.

You hated how easy it was for him to pull that kind of reaction out of you. Hated how a single word could make your breath catch like that.

Your knees lowered to the floor with ease as you stared at him.

The carpet was cold beneath you. Your hands rested still against your thighs.

You felt dizzy.

He didn’t say anything.

He just leaned back, like this was nothing new. Like this was exactly where he expected you to be.

His cold eyes bore into yours as he waited.

You didn’t look away.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe part of you wanted him to see it. The conflict. The want. The part of you that hated this, and the part that didn’t.

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth barely moving.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said as he began to unbuckle his belt.

You swallowed hard as he released his cock from his pants.

You stayed still with your knees pressed into the cold carpet, your hands resting flat on your thighs, and your heart thudding beneath your ribs.

His gaze didn’t soften.

“Well it isn’t going to suck itself, go on,” he said with a twinge of annoyance.

You didn't waste any time.

You leaned forward, licking a bead of pre-cum from his tip before slowly wrapping your mouth around him. Heat crawled down your spine as you took him in, inch by inch, your tongue tracing along the veins on his cock.

You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, fingers curling against the tense muscle as you sank down further.

Lex’s head fell back against the chair, a sharp exhale escaping his chest as his eyes fluttered shut. For a moment, you felt him melt into it, into you, his body slackening under the weight of pleasure. 

For a moment, you felt the power in your hands, in the way you moved, in how his body reacted to you. You moved slowly on purpose, every stroke of your tongue teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing.

But he felt it too.

His thigh tensed beneath your palm, and his breath hitched, just slightly, like he was trying to hold something back.

You could feel the control slipping from him, could see it in the way his fingers twitched, the way his jaw clenched tighter with every second you dragged it out.

Then his hand shot out, threading hard into your hair, yanking your head back with a roughness that stole the air from your lungs.

Your mouth slipped off him with a wet gasp as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

He stared down at you, and there was nothing soft about it. His eyes were dark, glazed over with something deeper than just want. His grip tightened, holding you there.

“You really think you’re in charge right now?” he said, voice low, thick with heat. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pressing down just enough to make your breath catch. 

“Cute.”

He leaned in close, his breath brushing your cheek, his words a quiet threat against your skin.

“Try that again, and I won’t be so patient.”

Despite the tension in his grip and the warning in his tone, you could feel yourself growing wet, the heat between your thighs building so fast it made your breath hitch.

He didn’t wait. His hand stayed tight in your hair as he pulled you back down, slower this time but more in control. 

Your lips parted easily, taking him in again, letting your tongue trace along him with careful pressure. 

You moved the way he wanted you to, steady and obedient, but he could still feel the way you pushed at the edge.

“Eyes on me,” he said, voice strained as he looked down at you. “Don’t fucking look away.”

You immediately did as he said, your glassy eyes looking up to meet his gaze.

His jaw was tense as he stared back down at you, letting out a breath that sounded like it had been dragged from the center of his chest.

“Good,” he muttered, barely audible. “Just like that.”

He never said things like that. Never praised you, nothing. So hearing it now, rough and breathless from his mouth, made something inside you snap. 

You moaned before you could stop it, the sound spilling out around him, and he felt it. His whole body tensed, his fingers twitching in your hair, the other hand gripping the armrest like he was holding on for dear life.

That one word made you ache. You dragged one hand down from his thigh and slipped it beneath the waistband of your pants, your fingertips finding the heat that had been pulsing ever since he pulled your head back the first time.

The moment your fingers moved, his grip in your hair snapped tighter.

His hips jerked forward, driving himself deeper into your mouth, and you choked around him, eyes watering as he held you there.

“Oh, you think you deserve that?” he growled, voice low and furious as he started to thrust harder. “Think a little praise means you get to help yourself?”

You whimpered, lost against him as he fucked into your mouth rougher now, the rhythm brutal and unforgiving. 

His hand pulled your head into each thrust, making you take everything, no choice, no space to breathe.

“You don’t get to touch yourself,” he snapped, teeth clenched, eyes burning down at you.

Your hand froze inside your pants, fingers trembling, overwhelmed by the pace, and by the way he looked at you like you were his and he was reminding you of it with every second that passed.

“You want more?” he asked, voice wrecked and breathless. “Then earn it.”

You didn’t dare move your hand again. You just looked up at him, your mouth still wrapped around him, your tongue dragging slow and deep as you sucked him harder. Your eyes were glassy and wet, your jaw aching, but none of that mattered.

Not when he was looking down at you like that. Not when every sound from him made you feel even wetter than you already were.

He cursed, his hand tightening in your hair again, his other gripping the armrest like he needed something to hold on to.

“God, you feel too fucking good,” he muttered, voice rough, falling apart word by word. “So fucking perfect like this.”

More tears slipped from your eyes, trailing warm and silent down your cheeks as your mouth stayed around him.

His hips bucked forward, sharper now, more desperate. His rhythm faltered and you knew he was close. Every part of him was tense, from the sharp line of his shoulders to the way his thighs trembled beneath your palms.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes locked on yours. 

His hips jerked again, and then he was gone. 

He came with a broken moan, deep and guttural, his whole body shuddering as he spilled into your mouth. His grip in your hair didn’t ease, holding you there as he needed it.

“Swallow,” he breathed, voice rough and wrecked but still commanding.

You did slowly, your throat tightening around him as you took it all. The moment he felt you obey, another curse slipped from his lips.

“Fuck.”

He groaned again, quieter this time, breath catching as the last of his seed spilled out of him. 

His hips stilled, his fingers loosened in your hair, and he just sat there, breathing hard, like he was trying to pull himself back together but couldn’t quite manage it yet.

You stayed there, mouth still parted, breath shaky, eyes locked on him from where you knelt. 

Neither of you said anything. He just stared at you with his jaw tight and his chest rising and falling beneath his shirt like he still hadn’t recovered.

Then he moved.

He zipped his pants without a word, his hands steady even though everything in him still felt tense. When he finally looked at you again, it was like nothing had ever cracked in the first place.

“You’re free to go,” he said, voice calm again, quiet, but laced with that same heat that never really left his eyes. 

He watched you for a long second, gaze heavy. “But don’t go far.”

A beat passed. His mouth curved just slightly, not quite a smile, more like a warning dressed up as something smoother.

“I may need your services again. Soon.”

[shangchiswife]

lex luthor- the intern

summary: you’re the intern who was supposed to stay out of the way, but now lex luthor can’t keep his hands, or his mind, off you

lex luthor x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 3934

....

You had been waiting impatiently all day.

Today was the day you found out whether or not you were interning at LutherCorp.

This wasn’t just some random internship. It was the one you had wanted for years. Ever since your professor brought it up your freshman year, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

You told yourself it was about the experience and the connections.

But if you were being honest, maybe a small part of you also applied because you found Lex Luthor stupidly attractive.

It wasn’t just the face, though that definitely didn’t hurt. It was the voice and the way he walked into a room like he already knew he owned it.

So yeah. Maybe this was about more than just career goals. Maybe it was a little about him too.

Suddenly you heard a ping from your phone and you quickly picked it up.

Your breath hitched.

It was an email from LutherCorp.

You tapped it open with shaky hands, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

Congratulations, it started.

You had to read it twice just to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

They picked you. You got it.

You were officially a LutherCorp intern.

You let out a laugh, part disbelief, part full-on joy, and kind of wanted to scream into a pillow. You actually did it. You were going to work at his company.

This was real.

You couldn’t stop smiling.

You were going to spend the summer at LutherCorp.

….

The summer came faster than you expected.

Your first day at LutherCorp felt like stepping into some kind of movie.

You woke up early, way earlier than necessary, and still second-guessed everything from your outfit to your hair. After way too much overthinking, you settled on a crisp white blouse tucked into tailored slacks. You wanted to look like you belonged there.

And now, here you were, walking into the towering glass building you had seen a million times in articles and headlines.

The lobby was sleek and quiet, all polished marble and subtle luxury. You tried not to gape like a tourist.

A woman in a sharp pencil skirt and heels greeted you with a polished smile. Her name was Michelle, and she introduced herself as your onboarding contact.

“Welcome to LutherCorp,” she said, handing you a slim folder with your schedule inside. “We’re thrilled to have you.”

You nodded, trying to play it cool even though your heart was racing again.

Michelle led you through the halls, pointing things out as she walked. Executive suites, research labs, restricted access areas. You barely caught half of it, too busy soaking in everything, the place, the people, the fact that you were actually here.

And maybe, you were also keeping an eye out. Hoping for a glimpse.

You hadn’t seen him yet.

But little did you know, he had seen you. From the corner of his eye, standing near the elevators with that wide-eyed look that most new interns tried to hide.

He didn’t say anything. 

But he noticed.

….

It had been two weeks and it seemed like you were finally starting to settle in.

Your days were packed, your head constantly spinning with data models, meetings, and endless revisions. You had barely slept, running on caffeine and adrenaline, but it was worth it. You were determined to prove you belonged here.

You had just printed out a report and were heading down the hall to deliver it when the door at the end opened.

Lex Luthor stepped out.

Alone.

Your stomach dropped.

He wore a black suit and dark shirt.

He was reading something on a tablet, brows drawn tight, but when his eyes lifted and landed on you, everything else stopped.

You froze. Completely.

Your heart started pounding so fast it was almost embarrassing.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared, like he was trying to place you. Then he spoke.

“You’re the intern,” he said.

You managed a nod, your grip tightening around the folder in your hands. “Yes, I—”

“You’re the one who corrected the energy projection in Langston’s file.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… I noticed it didn’t align with the previous inputs. I wasn’t trying to interfere.”

His eyes stayed on you, unreadable, but for a second, just one, you could have sworn there was something else there. Amusement, maybe. Like he found your goldfish-level panic mildly entertaining.

He lowered the tablet slightly.

“Most interns would have let it slide,” he said. “Either they didn’t catch it, or they were too afraid to say something.”

You couldn’t tell if that was praise or a warning. Your pulse was still out of control, like your body couldn’t decide whether to be proud or terrified.

“Next time, send it to me directly,” he added. “I don’t like hearing about corrections secondhand.”

You nodded quickly. “Understood.”

He turned to leave, then stopped again.

“Don’t confuse being right with being useful,” he said. “Plenty of people are right. Very few are necessary.”

Then he walked off, calm and cold like he hadn’t just shattered every coherent thought in your head.

You stood there for a moment, completely still, folder still clutched to your chest.

Your first real conversation with Lex Luthor.

And you were pretty sure he had just warned you and complimented you at the same time.

You were also pretty sure he had smirked. Just a little.

….

Another couple of weeks passed.

You were starting to feel more confident, even as an intern. The nerves were still there, but quieter now, easier to ignore when you had work to focus on and people who actually wanted your input. Analysts were starting to trust you. You were being looped into meetings, asked for your opinion, even pulled aside for clarification more than once.

And Lex.

He had worked with you a few times now. Nothing major, nothing long, but enough. Enough for him to remember your name without ever asking. You could feel it sometimes, the way his eyes lingered, the way he looked at you like he already knew what you were about to say.

Today, the room was tense.

You sat against the wall, notebook open, watching as the projection glitched through its numbers. Something was off.

Lex was already pacing, his voice sharp and cold.

“This is wrong,” he said, pointing to the screen. “And I’ve said that three times now. Either someone finds the problem, or someone finds a new job.”

No one moved.

Someone muttered something about data lag, and Lex slammed his hand down against the table.

“It’s not lag. It’s not delay. It’s incompetence,” he snapped, eyes burning now. “Fix it. Or leave.”

You looked at the numbers again. The formula was wrong. Same as before.

You didn’t wait.

“It’s in column three,” you said, voice steady. “The formula is still pulling from the wrong cell. If you correct the reference, the model should recalculate clean.”

Silence.

Lex turned his head toward you slowly.

He didn’t ask if you were sure. He didn’t question it. He just walked over, adjusted the input himself, and watched as the screen updated.

The numbers aligned.

He stared at them for a second, then turned back toward the room. His face was still tight with frustration, but when his eyes landed on you, something shifted.

“It’s nice to see someone here still remembers how to think,” he said, voice low but clear. “Not that I’m surprised.”

You held his gaze, trying not to show the way your heart jumped at the sound of that.

He looked at you for a second longer, like he was waiting for you to say something, then turned away and kept going like nothing had happened.

….

You were starting to get other kinds of attention, too.

At first, it was small. Offhand compliments, the kind people tossed out casually when passing your desk or waiting for the elevator. But it didn’t take long before it shifted. The looks started lasting longer. The comments got bolder. Analysts who had barely spoken to you before were suddenly finding excuses to stop by your desk.

Some of them asked you out. Some of them flirted like it was a joke, just loud enough for others to hear. It happened in meetings, in the halls, in the break room.

And they never seemed to care who was around.

You had just stepped off the elevator one morning when it happened.

“Damn,” someone muttered from behind you, not even trying to hide it. “Didn’t know the interns dressed like that.”

Another voice followed, smug and unbothered. “You think she wore it for us? I hope she did.”

Your face flushed immediately. You gripped your folder tighter, kept walking, and said nothing. But your skin burned. You heard every word.

Lex heard them too.

He had just come around the corner. You didn’t see him, but they did. The hallway fell quiet for a beat too long. The voices stopped.

You didn’t notice the way Lex stared after them as they disappeared, expression carved from stone.

That morning, you had thrown on the only clean thing you had left. A black skirt you hadn’t worn in years. You hadn’t planned anything. You hadn’t thought twice. It just fit.

But the second you walked in, you knew.

You could feel the attention, the weight of it, crawling up your legs and settling between your shoulder blades. It made you stand a little straighter. It made you want to disappear.

Lex didn’t say a word. But something about the way he looked at you that morning felt different. Tighter. Sharper.

Later that day, your pencil rolled off the desk.

You bent down to grab it, distracted and still typing with one hand. You didn’t think about the skirt. You didn’t think about anything at all.

But Lex had walked past your open door.

He stopped. His eyes dropped for a second, caught the curve of your thighs, the flash of soft pink beneath the hem that had risen too high.

And then he looked away, fast, like the sight had hit a nerve. His jaw clenched. He walked off without a word.

The boardroom was cold that afternoon, but Lex was already burning.

You sat near the back, flipping through the printout, trying to focus, but the energy in the room was suffocating. Lex didn’t sit. He paced.

Someone opened the meeting with a nervous explanation. He cut them off before they hit the second sentence.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, voice low and tightly controlled. “Try again.”

Another analyst stepped in, flustered. He tried to redirect the conversation. Lex slammed a folder down onto the table.

“You think this is acceptable?” he asked, gaze sweeping the table like he was daring someone to nod. “You’re wasting my time. You are all wasting my time.”

No one spoke.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. The numbers on the screen didn’t line up. The projections were off. And no one was going to say it.

So you did.

You pointed it out clearly, calmly. You didn’t look at anyone. Just the data. Just the facts.

Silence followed.

Lex turned his head toward you slowly. His expression didn’t shift, but his gaze lingered.

“Everyone out,” he said.

No one moved.

“I said out!” he screamed.

Chairs scraped. Pages rustled. No one looked back as they left.

You stayed seated.

Lex didn’t move for a while. He stood at the front of the room, one hand braced on the table, the other curled loosely at his side.

When he finally looked at you, it wasn’t careful.

“You wore that skirt on purpose,” he hissed.

Your breath caught, but you kept your voice even. “I didn’t. It was the only clean thing I had.”

He let out a laugh that had no humor in it. 

“Right. And the pink underwear? That just happened too?”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood up slowly.

“I didn’t ask anyone to look,” you said. “I didn’t ask for the comments. And I didn’t ask you to stare either.”

He moved toward you, slow and controlled, like he was trying not to break something.

“You didn’t stop them,” he said, voice low and tight.

Your heart was racing now. “You think it’s my job to stop men from being disgusting?”

“I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you put that on.”

He was standing too close now. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the storm behind his eyes barely contained.

“You think I dressed for them?” you asked, almost breathless.

His jaw clenched. “No. I think you dressed like that and didn’t think I would notice.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing.

“So you did.”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’re smarter than every person in this building,” he said, voice low and rough. “You know how to run circles around them. You’re the only one in that room worth listening to.”

You didn’t move.

“So what do you want from me, Mr. Luthor?”

He stared at you like he hated that you asked, like he didn’t know the answer, even though you could tell he liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

“You distract me,” he said. “And I can’t decide if I want you out of this building or closer than I already let you get.”

The air between you was too still. Like the silence itself was waiting.

You didn’t flinch. “You’ve already let me get close,” you said, voice steady. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

You weren’t even sure where the boldness came from. Maybe it was the heat in the room, the look in his eyes, the pressure building since the first time he said your name. But you didn’t back down. You couldn’t.

His jaw tensed. Something flickered behind his eyes, sharp and unreadable.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Then stop making time for it,” you said. “Stop walking past my office. Stop asking for my input. Stop looking at me like that.”

He stared at you, cold and silent.

“You think this is simple?” he asked finally, voice tight. “You think this is just... attraction?”

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest. “No. I think it’s something you can’t control. And that terrifies you.”

His gaze darkened, something dangerous flickering underneath the surface.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said quietly, almost like it was a problem he couldn’t solve.

“I should be.”

He took a slow step forward. 

“You’re a risk,” he said, his voice cold, deliberate. “And I eliminate risks.”

“Then why haven’t you eliminated me?”

He didn’t answer.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse sharp and fast.

“I didn’t ask to be here, Lex. You let me in. You asked for me.”

“And that,” he said, voice rough now, “was the first mistake I’ve made in years.”

You didn’t move.

“Then make the second one,” you said, your voice low and steady despite the heat crawling up your neck.

He exhaled once, slow and tight, like the tension was choking him.

His hand twitched at his side. His eyes stayed on yours, hard and focused, like he was memorizing the way you looked right now.

He stepped in close. Closer than he should. Still not touching.

But his restraint was crumbling.

And you could feel everything unraveling.

He didn’t warn you.

One second he was standing still, and the next his hand was in your hair, his mouth crashing onto yours like it had been building for weeks.

It wasn’t soft or patient.

It was sharp, demanding, all precision finally unravelling.

He kissed like he hated it, like he’d held himself back so long it had turned into something else entirely. His grip tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, like space itself had become the enemy.

Your hands fumbled against his chest, fingers clutching his shirt like you needed something to hold on to, anything to keep yourself steady.

He didn’t slow down.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and when you gasped, he kissed you deeper, like he had been waiting for that sound. Like it confirmed something for him.

The table was behind you. You barely noticed when the edge pressed into your back. His hands didn’t leave you. 

His mouth broke from yours for only a second, his breath hot against your ear.

“You think you can wear a skirt like that and get away with it?” he murmured, low and dangerous, like the thought had been simmering since the moment you walked in.

You felt the heat rush through you so fast it made your knees weak.

Before you could answer, his hands were on your hips, turning you and pressing you against the glass table. It was cold against your skin, a contrast to the fire in your chest.

His hand slid down, fingers curling around the hem of your skirt. He lifted it slowly, deliberately, like he wanted to see every reaction he could pull from you.

You felt the air hit the back of your legs, and how little space there was between the two of you.

He leaned in again, his mouth close to your ear. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly, like he already knew why. Like he liked it.

One hand stayed on your waist. 

The other brushed your clothed panties, featherlight, just enough to make you whimper.

“Already like this and I’ve barely touched you,” he murmured, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me, was it those imbeciles that got you this worked up?”

You shook your head like the thought itself was ridiculous. 

His hand lingered, fingers pressing a little firmer against the thin fabric, enough to make your hips buck without thinking.

“No,” you whispered.

His chuckle was low and satisfied, warm against your neck. 

“Didn’t think so,” he said, his voice calm and cruel in the way it made you want more.

He dipped his head, lips grazing just beneath your ear as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. 

You gasped, not just from the contact, but from how easily he took control of every inch of you.

“There she is,” he murmured, like he was seeing something he had been waiting for, his words quiet and dangerous. “So responsive, it’s almost pathetic.”

He brushed his fingers along your cunt, slow enough to make you tremble, drawing lazy circles that made your thighs tighten around his wrist. 

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but he could hear your breathing, feel every subtle shift as your body betrayed you without hesitation.

Lex leaned back just far enough to look at you, his hand still moving. 

His pupils were blown wide, dark with want.

“Moan for me,” he said softly, like a request dressed in command.

And when he slipped his finger inside you, your head fell back, a quiet sound escaping your lips.

He smiled, not just pleased, but possessive, like he had just claimed something that was already his.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice low and velvet smooth, his finger curling just enough to pull another sound from your throat. 

You didn’t mean to, but it broke out anyway making him grin even more.

The table pressed harder against you as he leaned in again, his chest brushing yours. His mouth hovered near your jaw, not kissing, just breathing, like he was letting you feel the restraint he was barely holding onto.

“Look at you,” he whispered, like it was amusing, like it thrilled him. “So desperate and quiet now. Where’d all that attitude go?”

You tried to answer, but his hand moved again, and your breath caught before you could form a single word.

His eyes flicked down, watching your chest rise and fall, watching the way your fingers gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping you from slipping under completely.

“You should see yourself right now,” Lex said, voice dark with something that felt close to wonder. “Completely undone, and I’m not even finished with you”

He thrust a little deeper, and your body jolted, a strangled moan catching in your throat before your eyes fluttered shut.

“Ah ah,” he said softly, hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek with almost mock tenderness. “Eyes open. I want you to remember exactly who did this to you.”

You looked at him with clouded vision. And he looked back like he owned you, like he always had.

“There you are,” he whispered, and then he leaned in, finally pressing his mouth to yours again.

The kiss shattered whatever composure you had left, drowning you in heat and pressure, and his hand never once stopped its slow, deliberate rhythm between your thighs. 

It was too much, too focused, too deep. The table pressed hard into your back, grounding you only barely as everything else threatened to spiral.

Your breath broke against his lips, and when you managed to pull away, just barely, it was only to speak, though the words came out slurred and broken.

“Mr. Luthor, I-” you tried, voice shaking.

He said nothing as he plunged another finger inside of you.

You whispered his name again, soft and helpless, your voice catching mid-word, and that was all it took for him to pause, just for a second. His smile curled, slow and knowing.

“Oh,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “We’re babbling now?”

Your body trembled, legs unsteady, breath hitching with every passing second. You couldn’t speak, not clearly, not when his fingers kept moving, slow and precise like he knew exactly what you needed and was giving you just enough to keep you desperate.

“Use your words,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “Is it too much, or do you want more?”

You tried, you really did, but your lips parted into a moan as his fingers pressed deeper, his thumb continuing to circle your clit.

“That’s what I thought,” Lex said, voice dark with satisfaction. “Completely gone for me.”

The pressure rose fast, sharp and dizzying, until it broke all at once. Your release came in a rush of heat and sound, your breath stuttering as your head fell back against the glass, body trembling, the world collapsing into the feel of him and the echo of his voice still ringing in your ears.

He didn’t stop right away. He kept working you through it slowly like he wanted to feel every tremble. 

Every twitch of his fingers pulled another moan from your chest, every second stretched until you were too wrecked to move.

“There it is,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “That’s mine.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely think. Just lay there against the table, breathless and flushed, the aftershocks still curling through you as his hand finally withdrew.

He leaned in again, and when he kissed you this time, it was slower like he was sealing the moment into your skin.

“Look at the mess you made,” he said, voice soft and wicked, his thumb brushing lazily across your thigh like he was admiring his work.

A moment later, you heard the slow drag of his belt unbuckling, the sound sending chills down your spine.

Your eyes snapped back to his just as he leaned in, lips grazing your ear, his voice lower than before.

“Oh, we’re not done just yet, sweetheart,”

[shangchiswife]

lex luthor- all mine

summary: lex luthor becomes dangerously obsessed with a girl who makes him feel something he can’t control.

lex luthor x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 4016

....

Lex Luthor was transfixed.

The conversation at the dinner table had long since dissolved into static, every word spoken by his colleagues muted beneath the sound of your laughter. 

You sat just across the room with your head thrown back, eyes bright, and lips parted in a smile that knocked the breath out of his chest.

You looked like sunlight in a place that had never known warmth.

“Mr. Luthor?”

Lex blinked, yanked back into the present. The entire table was staring at him now, forks paused midair, eyes expectant.

“What?” he snapped, more harshly than intended.

The man beside him flinched, looking like a chastised child. “We just wanted to know your opinion on the merger,” he said quietly.

Lex didn’t wait for him to finish. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape, the legs dragging across the polished wooden floor. The sound was jarring enough to turn heads, including yours.

You looked up, eyes meeting his for the first time that evening. 

You offered him a warm smile that sent shivers down his spine.

“I have to go,” he muttered. “There’s something that needs my attention.”

He didn’t look at anyone else. His eyes stayed on you, even as he stepped away from the table, ignoring the confused murmurs behind him.

You returned to your conversation, unaware of the chaos you had just created in the mind of one of the most dangerous men alive. 

You laughed again, animated and carefree, and it echoed in Lex’s ears like a song he couldn’t stop hearing.

He didn’t just want you.

He needed you.

And Lex Luthor always got what he needed.

That night, as the city glowed below, Lex Luthor sat in his penthouse scanning everything about you, your name, your routines, even the coffee shop you stopped at every morning on 8th and Alder.

He told himself it wasn't an obsession, it was just preparation. Information. He always did his homework.

By morning, he had crafted the perfect plan. Subtle, unassuming, harmless enough. A simple walk, a coincidental encounter, just enough to get you to speak to him. Then, he would handle the rest.

So that’s what he did. He dressed down, in a tailored coat with no tie, trading his usual intimidating presence for something warmer, more approachable. He timed it perfectly, arriving just ahead of you, waiting near the flower stall across from your favorite coffee shop.

As you turned the corner, earbuds in, coffee in hand, he began to walk. At just the right moment, he glanced at a passing car and took a deliberately clumsy step sideways, right into you.

Your coffee jostled but didn’t spill, thanks to his quick reflexes as he reached out to steady you.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he said smoothly, eyes widening with manufactured surprise.

You blinked up at him, your hand still on your coffee cup, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“I know you,” you said after a second. “You were at the restaurant last night.”

Lex offered a faint, sheepish smile. “I was. Small world.”

“No, I mean… I know who you are,” you added, studying him now. “You’re Lex Luthor.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. “Guilty.”

There was a flicker of something unreadable in your expression, curiosity, maybe a hint of amusement.

“Well,” you said, pulling one earbud out, “you’re a lot more charming in person than I expected.”

Lex smiled, something genuine this time. “Then I suppose I’m off to a good start.”

You took a slow sip of your coffee, still studying him, not quite smiling but clearly intrigued. “So, Mr. Luthor,” you said, voice cool but playful, “do you always take morning strolls along this exact route, or was that just fate giving you an opening?”

Lex didn’t laugh. He simply tilted his head, eyes sharp behind the charm he wore like a tailored suit. “I don’t believe in fate,” he said. “Only opportunity.”

You arched a brow. “Right. And I just happened to be an opportunity?”

He smiled, and there was something dangerous about it. Calm, measured, almost too perfect. “More like a disruption,” he said. “I don’t get distracted easily. You managed it twice.”

There it was, that cold clarity beneath the warmth, the precision of a man who calculated every word before it left his mouth.

“Well, I guess I should be flattered,” you said, shifting slightly, your curiosity piqued now. “Not every day I get knocked into by a billionaire in the middle of my coffee run.”

Lex’s eyes never left yours. “You should be.”

You let out a quiet breath of amusement, unsure if you were unnerved or intrigued. Maybe both. “You’re not exactly subtle, are you?”

“I find subtlety wastes time,” he replied, his tone still smooth but with a razor-thin edge. “And I don’t like wasting time.”

You weren’t sure if he was flirting or threatening. Maybe, again, it was both.

Still, you held his gaze. “Well, Lex Luthor,” you said, deliberately using his full name, “if this was your idea of an introduction, it certainly worked.”

“I was counting on that,” he said simply.

You studied him for a second longer, then pulled one earbud out. “Then maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow. Same time. Same coffee shop.”

Lex nodded once. Not a smile, not a bow, just a quiet acknowledgement, like a man sealing a deal. “I’ll be there.”

You turned and walked off, the weight of his stare lingering between your shoulder blades. He didn’t move, didn’t call after you, didn’t try to follow.

He didn’t need to.

In his mind, the board was already set. He had studied every piece, every move, every outcome.

And now, Lex Luthor had made his first move.

….

The next day, as promised, Lex was there. He stood just outside your favorite coffee shop, his posture relaxed, his coat neatly pressed, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t the kind of man who waited around for anyone, but somehow, waiting for you didn’t feel like a waste of time. It felt like progress.

He saw you approach, earbuds in, a soft breeze catching the edge of your coat. When your eyes met his, you smiled, warm and effortless, and for a moment something in him went quiet.

“Morning,” you said, your voice easy and warm. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

“I said I would,” Lex replied, his tone even, though beneath the surface everything was shifting. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

You gave a small laugh, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “I’m starting to see that.”

You fell into step beside him, the conversation picking up like it had never left off. You told him about your morning, how your alarm hadn’t gone off, how you nearly tripped over your neighbor’s cat on your way out, how you had dreamed about a staircase that never ended and woke up laughing. You joked about the awful construction noise outside your building and how you were convinced the workers were intentionally targeting your sleep schedule.

Lex listened, every detail sinking in like a thread stitching him deeper into whatever this was becoming. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was fixation. The way your voice rose and fell, the way your hands moved when you talked, the way you glanced at him so openly—it pulled him in with every step.

He didn’t want to study you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to be the reason you were late to work, the one you thought of when you smiled at your phone, the person whose absence left you restless.

“You know,” you said as you reached the corner, slowing your pace, “you’re not what I expected.”

Lex turned to you, his gaze steady. “What did you expect?”

You gave a small shrug. “Someone colder. Harsher. Less… human.”

He smiled, not wide, but enough. “Then I’m either better at pretending than I thought, or you’re worse at judging character than you’d like to admit.”

You let out a soft laugh, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“I can work with that,” Lex said.

As you crossed the street beside him, your pace slowed, the sound of the city humming around you. Lex stayed close, every movement precise, his attention fixed on you like nothing else around him mattered.

When he said, “Have dinner with me,” you stopped and turned to face him, brows raised.

“As a date?”

“Yes,” he said, his answer immediate and firm.

You gave a quiet laugh, but there was an edge to it. “How do I know this isn’t just some little date where I end up like one of your girls?”

Lex paused, and then, to your surprise, he laughed. It was low and brief, not dismissive, but genuinely amused.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “But if that’s what this was, I wouldn’t be here asking. I don’t waste time on what I plan to forget.”

You studied him carefully. You had heard the rumors, the whispers in tabloids, the stories about his short-lived romances with actresses, heiresses, women who vanished from his life as quickly as they appeared in it. Lex Luthor was a billionaire, and billionaires didn’t exactly have reputations for consistency when it came to dating.

“Right,” you said, still watching him, “because billionaire CEOs are so great at commitment.”

Lex smiled, just slightly. “You think this is about money?”

“I think it’s hard to tell when you live in a penthouse and probably have a different watch for every day of the week,” you said. “It’s hard to believe this is anything more than a temporary distraction for you.”

“If I wanted a distraction,” Lex said quietly, “I’d be with someone who didn’t challenge me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how calm and certain he sounded.

“Come to dinner,” he said. “Not because I’m Lex Luthor. Come because I asked you. Because I meant it.”

You were silent for a moment, weighing your options, your doubts. Then you let out a slow breath, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Fine,” you said. “One dinner. But if this turns into some predictable billionaire cliché, I’m walking out before dessert.”

Lex smiled, this time a little more fully. “I don’t plan on being predictable.”

You started walking again, and he fell into step beside you. He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel it, the intensity beneath the surface, the way his mind was already turning, already planning.

There was something about his silence that stayed with you, even as the conversation faded. Something calculated, unfinished.

You reached the corner, gave him one last glance, and kept going.

And when you turned the next street, disappearing into the crowd, it was like none of it had happened. Like this morning had been nothing. 

Lex stood there a moment longer, watching the spot where you’d been, jaw tight, hands still tucked calmly in his coat pockets. On the surface, he looked unbothered, like he had a meeting to get to, like you were just a pleasant footnote in his day.

But underneath the calm, something had already cracked open.

You had said yes. One dinner. That was all he needed.

He didn’t head back to his office. He walked instead, down streets he didn’t normally walk, barely aware of the people passing him. His mind had already shifted into motion. Not with logistics, not with numbers. With you.

By the time he reached the penthouse, the entire evening had already been decided.

Not the menu, not the wine, not the lighting. Those things were handled easily, quietly. They were tools. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He was trying to study you. Disarm you. Figure out what it would take to make you look at him like you belonged there.

Because he could already feel it. You were under his skin.

He stood in the quiet, the city stretched wide beneath the glass, and he thought of you. The way you had looked at him that morning, unshaken. The way you smiled, slow and real, not forced. The way you challenged him without trying to.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink. And that made him want you more.

It wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about connection. That wasn’t what this was.

It was curiosity. Fixation. Control.

And when he let himself think about it, when he stopped trying to contain it, the ache hit fast. Deep. Sharp.

His jaw clenched as he exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. His thoughts didn’t stop. They never did. Not with you.

He imagined you standing in his space, lit by low, warm light. No noise. No crowd. Just you and him. Closer than you had been this morning. Close enough to feel your breath catch when he leaned in. Close enough to hear his name on your lips, quiet and unsure.

He thought about your voice, unguarded, when you finally said it.

I’m yours.

The image was so clear it felt physical. The burn that followed was immediate, settling low in his stomach, tightening hard, unmistakable.

He was already hard. Just from the idea of it. Just from the thought of your hands on his chest, your eyes on his mouth, your voice in his ear saying the words like they belonged to him.

He braced himself against the edge of the marble, fingers tense, every muscle pulled tight like a thread ready to snap.

It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t even just need. It was possession.

He wanted you to admit that you were his.

Lex didn’t care how long it took.

He had time. He had power.

And now, he had you.

You just didn’t know it yet.

….

Lex didn’t sit. He stood by the windows, arms crossed loosely, eyes on the city like he was watching for something. He wasn’t.

He was waiting for you.

The room was quiet except for the low hum of jazz playing somewhere in the background. Warm lighting glowed across polished floors and dark wood. Everything was perfect. Not extravagant. Not loud. Just tailored. Measured. Like him.

He didn’t care if you noticed the details. He cared that you walked through the door and didn’t want to leave.

When the elevator finally chimed, he didn’t move. He kept his stance steady, exhale quiet, heart heavy in his chest in a way he wasn’t used to.

The door opened.

And then you stepped inside.

Lex’s jaw tightened instantly.

You wore a soft, fitted dress that wasn’t trying to impress anyone but somehow still did. His eyes moved over you slowly, deliberately, taking in the line of your collarbone, the way the fabric hugged your waist, the way your mouth curved when you saw him watching.

He didn’t speak right away. Didn’t trust himself to.

You walked in like you belonged there. 

“This place is ridiculous,” you said lightly, looking around. “I could get used to the private driver, though.”

Lex smiled faintly, his voice low. “You should.”

You turned to him, your eyes catching his. 

“So this is what Lex Luthor does for casual dinners?” you said with a laugh.

He stepped forward slowly. “Only when they matter.”

You blinked at that, and for a second, he wondered if he’d said too much. 

But then you offered him a smirk.

“Well, I hope the food’s as good as the view.”

Lex didn’t answer. 

He was too focused on the way your dress shifted when you moved, the way your hair framed your face, the way your skin caught the light.

He offered you a drink, poured it himself, watched as your fingers brushed his when you took the glass.

You wandered toward the windows, looking out. “You really can see everything from up here.”

“I know,” he said quietly, still behind you. “But right now, I’m not looking at any of it.”

You turned at that, slowly, your eyes meeting his again. And this time, something shifted.

The silence stretched, heavier now, thicker.

Lex stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of your body in the space between you. His hand brushed lightly along the edge of your hip, just enough to make you inhale softly.

He watched the movement of your chest rise and fall, the slight part of your lips, the flicker of something in your eyes that wasn’t hesitation.

“You knew what this was going to be when you said yes,” he said, voice low, controlled. “Didn’t you?”

You didn’t look away. “I had an idea.”

“Good,” he said, then leaned in, his mouth brushing just barely against your cheek. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

His hand slid around your waist, slow, intentional, drawing you closer until there was no space left to pretend with.

“You walked in wearing this,” he murmured, his mouth now at your ear, “and expected me not to touch you?”

You swallowed hard, your panties becoming wet from his words.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his hand still firm against your lower back.

“Tell me to stop,” Lex said, voice low and steady, but he already knew you wouldn’t.

Your breath hitched, lips parting like you were about to say something, but instead, you leaned in.

And that was enough.

His mouth found yours with all the restraint he had left, which wasn’t much. It was controlled at first, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. But then your hands slipped into his shirt, your body pressed into him, and control turned into something else entirely.

Lex backed you toward the wall with quiet determination, kissing you like he had waited years instead of hours. His hands moved over your waist, down your sides, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he wanted it gone.

You whispered his name once, barely above a breath.

He moaned, low and unrestrained, like it caught him off guard. His head dipped, lips brushing against your jaw.

“Say that again,” he said, his voice rougher now, barely holding onto composure.

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked up at him, your eyes locked with his, your breathing uneven as his thumb dragged slowly along your waist.

He waited, not moving, not speaking. Just watching you. Like your mouth held something he needed more than air.

“Lex,” you whispered again, softer this time.

He groaned, deeper now as his mouth crashed into yours before you could say anything else.

You gasped against him, fingers bunching in his shirt as he pressed you harder into the wall. 

His hands moved lower, sliding over your hips, gripping them tight like he needed to remind himself that you were real. Here. Saying his name like you meant it.

You tugged at the fabric of his shirt, slipping your hands beneath it, fingertips grazing his skin, and he hissed against your mouth.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Lex murmured, forehead pressed against yours now, eyes shut like he needed a second to breathe.

“I think I do,” you whispered in a teasing manner, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

That made him smile, crooked and dark, eyes opening again, sharp and focused only on you.

“Then keep going,” he said, his hands already moving, sliding up your thighs. “Say it again.”

You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear, and said it one more time. Low. Steady.

“Lex.”

This time, he didn’t moan. He growled.

He lifted you in one motion, strong hands steady beneath your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist, your back hitting the wall with a quiet thud. His body pressed into yours, the weight of him forcing the breath from your lungs in the best possible way.

His mouth found your neck, lips trailing slow kisses across your skin like he was tasting something he had already decided belonged to him.

“You’re mine now,” he breathed against you, voice rough and low, each word curling down your spine like heat.

His hand moved beneath the hem of your dress, inching higher until he felt nothing but bare skin. He froze for a beat.

Then he pulled back just enough to look at you.

You met his eyes, your lips parted, and Lex’s jaw clenched hard.

You weren’t wearing anything underneath.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze dropped briefly, his control unraveling fast. He swore under his breath, a quiet, guttural sound that made your stomach twist.

He moved quickly, fingers working his belt open, then unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease. You watched, dazed, as he freed himself.

His cock was hard and thick, already flushed with need, and the look in his eyes when he saw the way you stared at him made something dark flicker across his face.

He stepped back into you, one hand braced against the wall, the other still gripping himself. His breath hitched slightly as he looked at you, like he was holding on by the thinnest thread.

“Say it,” he whispered, voice low and sharp with need.

You could barely speak. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your head tilted back, your body arching toward him, aching to be filled. The words broke from your lips, soft and trembling.

“I’m yours.”

Lex groaned into your shoulder, like the sound of it shattered everything he had left. He pressed his mouth to your skin, open and hot, as he thrust into you in one long, slow stroke that knocked the air from your lungs.

He held you tight, both hands gripping your thighs now, his rhythm steady, deep enough to make your entire body tremble against him.

You clung to him, your voice lost in the heat, your breath catching every time he moved deeper, harder, more possessively.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his lips brushing your ear. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Lex, all yours,” you cried out in bliss as he continued to pound into you.

The sound of your voice pushed him further, his grip on your thighs tightening, knuckles pale from how hard he held you. He was already too far gone to slow down, his rhythm brutal, like he wanted to bury himself in you and stay there.

Your head fell back against the wall, fingers twisting into his shirt, your moans soft and desperate as he kept driving into you, every movement claiming you over and over.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groaned against your neck, his breath hot, his lips dragging across your skin. “Like you were made to be here, wrapped around me, saying my name like that.”

You whimpered at his words, your body trembling.

Lex kissed you then, rough and messy, swallowing your gasp as his hips snapped harder, deeper, everything in him focused on you.

“You’re mine,” he said again, this time almost a growl, like he needed to remind both of you. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to touch you.”

Your nails dug into his back and you nodded, too far gone to speak, your body already beginning to shake around him.

Lex could feel it, the way you clenched, the way your voice broke with every sound, and it drove him mad.

He slammed into you one more time, deep enough to make your cry echo in his ear, and that was it.

You shattered for him, everything spilling over at once, your limbs trembling, breath stuttering, your voice catching on his name.

Lex followed, groaning into your shoulder, his thrusts turning ragged as he gave in completely, your name the only thing he could think, the only word that left his lips.

He held you there for a long moment, breathing hard against your skin, your bodies still tangled, warm and spent.

Neither of you said anything. You didn’t need to.

He had you.

And you had said it.

You were his.

[shangchiswife]

bucky barnes- sweeter than pie

summary: you take care of Bucky without question, and he shows just how much he appreciates his sweet wife.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 1908

...

Bucky Barnes had a throbbing headache.

It had been a long day filled with endless meetings, stacks of paperwork, and the kind of political back-and-forth that drained the life out of him. All he wanted now was to be home with you, his sweet, unwaveringly supportive wife.

He knew that once he saw you, the pounding ache in his head would vanish instantly.

You’d been by his side since the very beginning, long before he ever stepped foot into Congress. And once he did, your support never wavered. You accompanied him at galas, brought him coffee and snacks on those late nights, and even gave him nice massages because lord knew he needed those.

Bucky felt bad. He knew he hadn’t been giving you much attention due to his career but you never once complained. You made it easy for him by always being so patient and understanding.

The moment Bucky stepped into your shared home, he was enveloped by the warm, sweet scent of something baking.

Without a word, he shrugged off his coat, let it fall onto the rack, and dropped his briefcase to the floor with a soft thud. 

He needed to see you.

He needed to see you now.

He made his way to the kitchen, and there you were, bent over the oven observing whatever was inside it.

You were wearing that red gingham dress, the short one that clung to you just right, barely covering the curve of your ass. You wore it because you knew exactly what it did to him, and judging by the way he suddenly forgot about his headache, it worked like a charm.

Right as you closed the oven, Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Bucky,” you gasped, caught off guard, but your hand moved to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

He spun you around, cupped your cheeks and gave you a long kiss that left you breathless.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, looking you up and down shamelessly.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his sultry gaze.

“I made you apple pie,” you said with a smile that made his knees weak. “Put it in a while ago.”

His grin widened as he pulled you in closer, his hands settling on your hips.

“You trying to spoil me, doll?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “Because it’s working.”

You laughed softly, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “You’ve had a long day. I figured you deserved something sweet.”

If only you knew what you did to him.

“I already got something sweet,” he said, giving you another kiss, slower this time, like he wasn’t in any rush to let you go.

You leaned into him, smiling against his lips. “That pie’s going to burn if you keep distracting me.”

He smirked, tilting his head. “Let it. I’ve got something way more tempting in front of me.”

He latched his lips to your neck, kissing softly at first, then deeper, making you sigh in bliss.

“Bucky,” you murmured, your voice breathy, but he didn’t stop, his hands roaming all over your waist.

“Bucky,” you said again, this time laughing as you gently lifted his chin to meet his eyes.

“What are you doing, honey?” you asked, an amused smile playing on your lips.

“Can’t a man treat his wife?” he replied with a crooked smirk, voice low and warm. Before you could respond, his mouth was back on your neck, more insistent now, like he was trying to make up for every minute he’d missed you.

“You’re insatiable,” you teased, giggling as his hands gripped your hips.

“Only when it comes to you,” he murmured, voice thick with love and longing.

His fingers fondled with your clothed breasts making you bite back a moan.

“Uh huh, honey,” he murmured, lips brushing hot against your jaw. “Don’t hold back on me. I want to hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

You nodded, breath hitching as your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging him even closer, needing more of him, needing all of him.

He chuckled softly, that low, gravelly sound that always sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your neck before he latched onto your skin, sucking with a hunger that made your knees weak.

“You put this dress on, made my favorite pie, stood there looking like that,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, “and thought I’d just say thank you and walk away?”

His words sent a pool of heat into your lower stomach.

His hands slid down the curve of your body, gripping the backs of your thighs as he lifted you up onto the counter effortlessly. The cool surface made you shiver, a sharp contrast to the warmth blazing between you.

“I was just trying to take care of you,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

“And I’m trying to take care of you,” he replied, kissing you deeply, slowly, like he needed to taste every part of you. His hands roamed your waist, thumbs caressing your skin beneath the hem of your dress.

You moaned softly into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he pressed himself against you.

“You’re everything, you know that?” he said against your lips, voice thick with desire. “The only thing that gets me through the day.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close, whispering, “I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. I’m yours.”

“Good,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it like a man who had been starving for far too long. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

His hands slid beneath the hem of your dress, fingers brushing against bare skin making your breath hitch. 

He slowly lifted the fabric, revealing your soaked panties, his gaze darkening the moment he saw you.

He licked his lips at the sight.

“Oh baby, I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wet,” he cooed, making you whimper.

“Please,” 

Your body ached for him.

“Please what, baby? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” he teased, giving you a smug and infuriating grin.

Fucking tease.

“Please touch me,” you practically pleaded, guiding his hand over to your clothed core.

He chuckled lowly, his eyes gleaming with hunger.

“Well how could I ever say no to my beautiful wife?" he hooked his fingers with the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, immediately shoving it in his pocket like a prize before gently pushing two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, gripping the counter.

The sound spurred him on, his fingers beginning a steady rhythm, thrusting deep over and over.

“Oh my god Bucky keep on doing that,” your breathy sighs made his cock throb in the confines of his pants.

He watched you closely, completely entranced by the way your face contorted with pleasure.

He wants to remember the exact shape your mouth makes when you breathe his name, the way your eyes darken when they meet his, the way your expression softens in a way it never does for anyone else.

His fingers move even faster if that was possible as you grip the counter even harder, your knuckles turning white.

“Bucky I’m gonna-” you slur looking down at him as his thumb started to rub your clit.

Your stomach coiled and your thighs started to tense.

“Go on honey, come for me,” his voice was low as you rocked against his hand chasing the pleasure.

And you did, falling apart with a choked cry as the heat in your belly snapped and surged through you in waves.

“Oh my god that was-” you didn’t even get another word in before Bucky started burying his face in between your thighs.

His nose brushed against your clit making you gasp.

Without wasting any time, his tongue glided along your folds.

Bucky’s tongue was merciless as always as he feasted on you like he was a starving man.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as your hips rolled forward, chasing the pressure.

He hummed into you with contentment, the vibration sending a fresh ripple of pleasure through your spine. You were sure heaven felt like this.

He then started to suck on your clit which made your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Oh my god Bucky,” you let out a loud moan which made him pick up the pace, circling your clit with his tongue.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he groaned, his eyes closed with bliss as his tongue never stopped moving.

His tongue continued to trace patterns on you as you could feel yourself getting close again.

Your thighs squeezed his head.

“Such a good fucking wife,” he growled, tugging his zipper down with one hand while stroking himself. “Letting me eat her out whenever I want.”

You felt your walls flutter at his filthy words.

“Bucky,” you mewled, tears pricking your eyes as his strokes sped up, his mouth still locked onto your pussy.

“Come with me, honey,” he hissed, pumping his cock faster.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your climax hit again like a tidal wave making you let out a scream in ecstasy.

Bucky groaned against you, coming undone a moment later, his name still on your lips.

Your breathing slowly began to steady as Bucky pressed gentle kisses to your inner thigh.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were warm and full of love making your heart soar.

He stood, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. You sank into him without hesitation, arms winding around his neck, your body fitting against his like home.

“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, letting out a small laugh as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You smiled, still catching your breath, brushing your nose against his. “I think I might.”

He laughed again, the sound low and soft, his fingers tracing slow circles against your lower back. 

The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the oven, but everything felt still, like time had paused just for the two of you.

At that moment, the timer went off, the soft ding breaking the quiet and reminding you both of the pie still baking in the oven.

After a few seconds, you leaned back a little to look into his eyes. “So… pie?”

He smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Yeah, but I’m not sure what I want more now.”

You kissed him again, slow and sweet, then pulled back with a playful glint in your eyes.

“Later, Bucky, I want some pie.”

You hopped down from the counter with a satisfied grin and turned to grab the plates. 

As you reached up into the cabinet, your dress lifted slightly, just enough for him to see the bare skin underneath, a clear reminder that your panties were still tucked safely in his pocket.

His breath caught, and he stepped closer, voice low and thick with desire.

“Let’s eat,” he said, his eyes fixed on you, “before I forget why we’re here.”

“As long as you promise not to steal my slice.” You said, handing him a fork with a teasing smile. 

He kissed your temple, his laugh soft and warm.

“No promises, but I’ll try.”

[shangchiswife]

bucky barnes- a brief intermission

summary: you remind bucky what he's been missing when he's too busy with his job.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 1841

...

You stared at the message on your screen, frustration slowly creeping in.

It was the fifth time Bucky had canceled on you.

Sorry, doll. Swamped with work. I’ll make it up to you, promise, the message read.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, setting your phone aside.

Bucky had been buried in his duties as a Congressman, and lately, it felt like he was slipping further and further away.

Just two days ago, you’d been curled up on the couch together with his head resting in your lap, eyes closed, a quiet hum of contentment vibrating from his chest as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

“This feels so nice,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper.

You’d smiled, the corners of your mouth lifting softly.

“I’m so glad, baby,” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

But before you could say anything else, his phone rang.

His head snapped up immediately, reaching for it without a second thought.

Your smile faded.

You felt like an old woman at that moment. You wanted to tell him so bad to get off that damn phone. You wanted to be more important than whatever was on the other end of that screen.

“Hello?” he answered, casting a quick glance your way, just enough to catch the way you crossed your arms.

A moment passed. Then his face fell.

“Alright I’ll be there right away,” he ended the call before gathering his things.

“Sorry hon, there’s a work emergency and they really need me,” his voice was soft, almost guilty as he looked at you.

“It’s ok, maybe we can do this another time then,” you said, forcing a smile.

“God you’re the best wife ever,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before slipping on his suit with ease.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a silence that felt louder than the conversation had been.

And now, here you were again. Alone on the couch, the screen still glowing with his apology.

You were exhausted. You missed your husband so much.

You stared at the text on your phone

Suddenly, an idea popped up in your head. If he couldn’t make time for you, you’d remind him why he should.

A smirk tugged on your lips.

You sprinted to your closet and slipped into a crisp white button down shirt and paired it with a black pencil skirt you knew drove Bucky crazy.

Oh you’d show him.

When you arrived at the Capitol Building you could feel all eyes on you as your heels clicked against the polished floor. 

You even watched as an intern who was carrying two cups of coffee ran into a wall because he was gawking at you.

You knew your husband was going to lose it. Bucky wasn’t going to know what hit him.

You knew exactly where his office was. You had come a couple of times to drop his lunch off when he’d forget it at home.

Once you walked in, his secretary was there.

“Hey, Layla,” you nodded at the girl.

“Hello Mrs. Barnes, the Congressman is in his office,” she gave you a polite smile before her eyes darted back to her computer.

You didn’t even bother knocking and immediately entered the room.

There your husband sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly undone, scribbling notes across a legal pad. His brow was furrowed in concentration, jaw tight.

Oh he looked good.

You cleared your throat.

“Hi honey,” your voice was like silk as you watched Bucky look up and freeze.

“Honey!” His face broke into a grin, surprise flickering into something else as his eyes took you in.

You waltzed over to his desk and leaned forward, giving him the perfect view of the valley of your breasts.

His breath hitched at the close contact.

After teasing him, you planted a kiss on his lips, leaving him wanting more.

His face flushed instantly, ears going pink as he adjusted in his seat. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, trying to sound composed despite his pants suddenly tightening.

You leaned in, your voice low and close to his ear. “Just thought I’d remind you what you’ve been missing.”

He looked up at you like he’d just remembered how to breathe.

You sauntered over behind the desk where he was sitting, letting your fingers trail lightly across the edge as you moved.

Bucky swiveled slightly in his chair to follow your movement, eyes wide and glued to you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You came to a stop just behind him, resting your hands gently on his shoulders. He tensed for a second, then melted under your touch like he always did.

“You’ve been working so hard,” you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss just beneath his ear. “I figured you could use a little break.”

He let out a groan as you slid your hands down the front of his chest, your cheek brushing against his.

“You’re really trying to kill me in the middle of a budget meeting day, huh?” he muttered, voice rough.

You said nothing as you got down on your knees in front of him underneath his desk, relishing in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

“Let me take care of you, honey,” you purred as you rubbed his thighs suggestively.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky breathed as he stared down at you, his eyes glazed with lust.

You slowly unbuttoned his slacks, watching as his cock sprung free already leaking with pre-cum.

You practically salivated looking at it. It had been so long.

“All this for me?” you batted your eyes innocently before bending down to press a kiss to it, lifting your head up so he watched you lick your lips which were smeared with his pre-cum.

His eyes widened as he felt his cock twitch.

“Holy shit,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

You gave him one last mischievous look before kissing his inner thighs.

“No teasing, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently tilting your chin up with his thumb, his gaze dark and focused entirely on you.

You gave him one last smirk before wrapping your lips around his cock making him suck in a breath.

You immediately started suckling, making his hand slide into your hair, fingers threading gently but firmly.

This only spurred your actions as you pushed his thighs further apart and started taking more of him into your mouth. 

“Doll, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned deeply as he threw his head back against the chair.

You looked up at him, your lips momentarily moving away from his cock.

“That’s the plan, baby,” you winked before taking him into your mouth again, your tongue gliding along his veins.

He gripped your hair tighter, his hips bucking up into your mouth as soft moans spilled from his throat.

Your eyes started to water as his cock brushed the back of your throat.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, flicking toward the sound like a deer caught in headlights.

You didn’t flinch. If anything, your sucking became more deliberate, your smile more devilish.

“Go answer it,” you said, pausing just enough to let your words hang in the air like a challenge.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low and ragged.

“What’s wrong, Bucky? Scared of getting caught?” you teased, voice honey-sweet as you looked up at him through your lashes before bobbing your head around him.

He let out a strained breath, his hand tightening in your hair, the other gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing grounding him.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he said, voice hoarse and trembling with restraint.

Oh, but you did. And hearing the way his polished exterior slipped sent a pulse of heat through you, your own desire curling in response as you dipped a finger under your skirt, toying with your clit.

Another knock echoed through the room.

“Congressman Barnes?” Layla’s voice came through, tight and professional. 

Bucky swore under his breath.

He knew that if he didn’t let her in she’d think something was wrong.

“Come in, Layla,” he said with gritted teeth as your teeth grazed his shaft teasingly.

Layla stepped in, tablet in hand, her eyes skimming over Bucky’s disheveled appearance. “Sir, the committee’s already seated. They’re expecting you in five.”

Bucky cleared his throat, loosening his tie slightly when you started massaging his balls.

“Thanks, Layla. Just reviewing some last-minute notes.”

“Of course,” she said with a small nod, though her eyes lingered a second too long. “Let me know when you're ready and I’ll walk you down.”

“Will do,” he replied quickly.

She turned and exited, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” he growled as he started thrusting hard into your mouth, all his restraint gone.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you allowed him to use you.

“Shit doll I’m gonna-” his eyes fluttered shut.

His cock twitched in your mouth as he reached his climax, his hot cum spilling into your mouth.

You waited until every last drop of cum was down your throat before you detaching your lips from him, a strand of saliva connecting from your lips to his cock. 

You both said nothing for a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the air between you still humming with heat.

Then, slowly, Bucky reached for his phone, his gaze never leaving yours as he dialed.

“Hey, Layla,” he said, voice low and steady despite the chaos still simmering beneath the surface. “You’re going to need to cancel all my meetings for the day.”

A pause.

“Yeah. Personal emergency.”

He ended the call and set the phone down with finality, like he’d just drawn a line in the sand.

His eyes met yours, full of something fierce and unshakable.

“You’re not leaving this office,” he said, standing and moving toward you with purpose. “Not until I’ve made up for every single time I canceled on you.”

When it was all over, the two of you stepped out of his office together, giggles spilling from your lips as Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist. His tie was crooked, your blouse a little rumpled, and your hair slightly tousled from his hands, but neither of you cared.

As you passed Layla’s desk, her jaw dropped, her eyes widening as she stared at the both of you.

“Reschedule everything tomorrow too,” Bucky said smoothly, barely glancing her way. “I have important matters to handle.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back another laugh as he led you down the hallway, the two of you radiating a kind of happiness you hadn’t felt in far too long.

And in that moment, with his hand in yours and laughter still lingering on your lips, it finally felt like he remembered what truly mattered.

[shangchiswife]

guys have you seen that one trend on tik tok where people say everything twice to get a reaction out of their partner? i feel like wade would have a field day with that and logan would literally kill him LMFAO

[shangchiswife]

logan howlett- a royal tea party

summary: you and logan spend the day babysitting your niece

logan x fem!reader with a smidge of wade x reader

warnings: cursing

word count: 2372

....

It was a bright, sunny morning when your phone buzzed with an urgent call from your cousin.

Her voice, usually calm and collected, was frantic this time.

"The babysitter just canceled on me!" she blurted out before you could even say hello. "I don’t know what to do! I need someone to watch Emma, can you please help?"

You could picture your cousin pacing in a mild panic, but instead of feeling worried, you couldn’t help but smile. The thought of spending time with your lively, giggly four-year-old niece was an easy yes.

“Of course, I’ll watch her,” you replied warmly, already imagining Emma’s excited face when she saw you.

She was adorable, with her chestnut hair always tied into playful pigtails, each one neatly fastened with matching pink bows. And she had the cutest little smile with a little gap in between her front teeth.

“Oh my god thank you so much, you’re such a lifesaver,” your cousin gushed as you laughed.

As you hung up the phone, you glanced over at the living room where Deadpool was lounging on the couch, munching on a bowl of Lucky Charms. 

He looked up, raising an eyebrow as he crunched loudly.

"Babysitting duty today, huh?" he quipped, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. 

“Good luck with that, kid. Tiny humans are way scarier than anything I’ve faced.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin.

Before you could respond, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Logan’s deep voice broke the moment. “Need some help with the kid?”

You turned to see him standing there, his rugged face softening just slightly as he met your gaze.

"I think I’ve got it," you replied, leaning in for a quick kiss. "But it might be fun to see you wrangle a four-year-old."

Logan smirked, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "I’ve faced worse."

"Yeah, like sharing a house with Deadpool," you teased.

"Hey, I heard that!" Deadpool shouted from the other room, waving his spoon in mock outrage. “You two would be lost without my sparkling personality.”

Before you could fire back with a retort, the doorbell rang, pulling your attention away.

Your heart skipped with excitement as you practically bounced to the door, eager to see your niece.

When you opened the door, there stood Emma dressed head to toe in a poofy purple princess gown. She had a sparkly tiara perched on her head and a glittery pink wand clutched in one hand and a small toy box in the other. Her eyes lit up when she saw you, and she twirled in place, showing off her dress with a proud little grin.

“Auntie, look! I’m a princess today!” she announced, her voice brimming with joy.

You couldn’t help but grin back. 

“You look absolutely perfect, Your Royal Highness,” you said, giving her a playful bow.

She giggled, clearly loving the attention, before running inside, her dress puffing out around her as she moved. Deadpool peeked his head out from the living room, eyes widening as he spotted her.

“Well who is this little ray of sunshine,” Wade said, abandoning his bowl of cereal and skipping over to your niece who gave him a little smile.

“Prepare yourself, young lady, for the greatest adventure of your day!” he declared with a flourish.

Just as he said that his phone started buzzing.

Deadpool glanced at it, his face dropping into an exaggerated frown of resignation.

“Looks like the universe demands my immediate attention,” he said dramatically, picking up his phone and reading the screen. “Vanessa’s having a crisis, and apparently, only I can save the day.”

Emma’s face fell a little at the thought of losing her new friend. “But… I wanted to play!”

Deadpool knelt to her level, giving her a sympathetic look. 

“I know, princess. But fear not! I shall return. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with this mere mortal and the very grumpy Wolverine.”

He shot Logan a playful glance. Logan just raised an eyebrow but remained silent, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange.

“Alright, little one,” Deadpool said, giving Emma a gentle pat on the head. “You’re in good hands. Don’t let this place get too boring while I’m gone!”

With that, he dashed out of the house, his departure as dramatic as his entrance.

As the door closed behind him, Logan sighed and moved to sit on the couch, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he looked at you. “Well, looks like it’s just the three of us now.”

Emma tugged on your sleeve, looking up at you with big eyes.

“Auntie, I’m hungry! Can we have lunch?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” you replied, glancing at Logan. “How about you keep Wolverine entertained while I whip up something special?”

Emma’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she grabbed Logan’s hand and led him toward the toy box she brought.

Logan followed with a slightly apprehensive expression, looking back at you for help while you held back a laugh.

“Come on, Wolverine! We’re going to have a tea party!” Emma announced, her voice filled with anticipation.

Logan, sitting down on the floor next to her, looked unsure. He picked up a tiny plastic tea cup and held it awkwardly.

Emma, blissfully oblivious to his nervousness, was already setting up her tea party with a mix of stuffed animals, dolls, and plastic dishes.

As you cooked Emma’s favorite mac and cheese, the delicious smell of cheese and pasta filled the kitchen. 

From the living room, you could hear Emma’s excited chatter and the clink of plastic tea cups, along with Logan’s good-natured but slightly unsure replies.

Peeking into the living room, you saw Emma sitting cross-legged on a blanket, surrounded by her stuffed animals. 

Logan was next to her, still looking a bit unsure. 

He was trying his best to mimic Emma’s actions with a mix of seriousness and curiosity. 

The girl poured imaginary tea into Logan’s cup, and he took a careful, exaggerated sip, playing along with a grin.

“Thank you for the tea, Mr. Wolverine,” Emma said, giving a little curtsy and smiling brightly.

Logan managed a shy but genuine smile. “You’re welcome, Princess Emma. This is definitely the best tea party I’ve ever attended.”

Emma beamed and handed Logan a plate of plastic cookies with a flourish. Logan took the plate with a polite nod and pretended to take a bite. 

Emma giggled at his effort, clearly delighted by his participation.

Suddenly, Emma’s eyes lit up with an idea. She carefully removed her sparkly tiara and placed it on Logan’s head. “Now you’re a royal knight!” she declared with pride.

Logan looked a bit surprised but played along, adjusting the tiara with a small, amused smile.

Just then, as Logan reached for another imaginary cookie, the plastic teacup wobbled and fell to the floor with a soft clink. 

Emma’s eyes widened, and she burst into uncontrollable laughter. She rolled on the floor, her giggles filling the room and making her cheeks flush pink.

Logan glanced down at the fallen cup, then back at Emma, who was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. 

After a moment, he couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Looks like I’ve made quite the mess at this tea party.”

Emma, still laughing, managed to say, “You made it even funnier, Mr. Wolverine!”

As you walked into the room, carrying a tray of mac and cheese, you saw Logan wearing the tiara and Emma rolling on the floor with laughter. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Wow, I could get used to this sight,” you said with a grin, bending down to press a kiss to your partner’s cheek.

Logan shook his head good-naturedly. 

“Guess I’m officially part of the royal court now.”

Emma clapped her hands, delighted by your reaction. “And you look perfect!”

As you finished setting the table, the mouthwatering smell of mac and cheese filled the air. When you brought the steaming dish to the table, Emma’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yummy! Mac and cheese!” she exclaimed, eagerly scrambling off the blanket and rushing to her seat.

As you all sat down to eat, Emma chattered excitedly about her tea party.

Despite his initial nerves, Logan quickly warmed up, asking your niece about her imaginary kingdom and getting into the play with genuine enthusiasm.

“You know,” you said to Logan as you scooped some mac and cheese onto Emma’s plate, “seeing you play along like this with Emma, I can’t help but think about how amazing you’d be with our future kids.”

Logan looked up, his expression softening. “You think so?”

“Oh I know so,” you replied, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze.

Logan responded by bringing your hand to his lips, causing Emma to let out an exaggerated squeal. 

“Eww, no kissing!” she said, scrunching up her nose.

Logan chuckled, pulling back with a mock pout. 

“Alright, no kissing,” he said, giving Emma a playful wink. “But you have to admit, I’m pretty good at this tea party thing.”

Emma giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re the best knight ever!”

The doorbell rang suddenly, causing everyone to turn their heads. 

You went to answer it, and moments later, Deadpool burst back into the room. He froze mid-step when he saw Logan sitting there with Emma’s sparkly tiara perched on his head.

“Holy chimichangas, what’s this?” Deadpool exclaimed, his eyes widening in exaggerated disbelief. “Logan, is that a tiara on your head? Did you lose a bet or something?”

Logan looked up, clearly irritated, but trying to keep his cool. “You’re lucky Emma’s here otherwise I’d beat the shit out of you,” he said through gritted teeth as you put your hands on the little girl’s ears for the last part.

Deadpool laughed, dramatically holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop teasing. But I have to admit, you’re really rocking that tiara,” he said, blowing a kiss at him and making your boyfriend roll his eyes.

Emma giggled at the playful banter, clearly delighted by the attention. “Mr. Wolverine looks so funny!”

Logan shook his head with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to wear this every day.”

As you all finished lunch and chatted, the room was filled with warmth and laughter. 

When it was time for Emma to head home, she gave everyone a big hug.

But as her mom arrived to pick her up, Emma’s smile began to waver. She looked up at Logan with big, pleading eyes. “Can’t I stay a little longer? I want to play more with Mr. Wolverine.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he crouched down to her level. 

“I’m sorry, princess, but it’s time for you to go home. But we’ll have another tea party soon, okay?”

Emma’s lower lip trembled, and she burst into tears. “But I don’t want to go! I want to stay with Mr. Wolverine!”

You quickly knelt beside her, gently rubbing her back. “I know, sweetie. I promise we’ll plan another playdate very soon. You had such a great time today, didn’t you?”

Emma sniffled, nodding reluctantly. “Okay...”

“Hey, don’t worry, kiddo. Next time, I’ll join in the fun too, and I promise not to embarrass Mr. Wolverine too much. Or at least, not more than he embarrasses himself.”

Emma managed a small smile through her tears. “Really? You won’t make fun of Mr. Wolverine?”

“Only if he’s wearing something less fabulous than this tiara!” Deadpool joked, pointing to Logan’s head. “I mean, look at that sparkle. How could I possibly top that?”

Emma managed a small smile through her tears, and with one last hug for Logan and you, she left with her mom.

As the door closed behind them, you looked at Logan, who was still wearing the tiara with a fond smile. 

“You know,” you said, stepping closer and adjusting the tiara slightly, “You really nailed the royal knight look today.”

Logan chuckled, tipping the tiara playfully. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s not every day I get to be the guest of honor at a tea party.”

Wade grinned from ear to ear sauntering over your way.

“I gotta say, peanut, you’ve set the bar pretty high. I mean, the tiara, the tea party etiquette—it’s like you were born for this.”

Logan’s eye twitched slightly. “Wade, if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna show you exactly what I was born for.”

Deadpool threw his hands up in surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

“Alright, alright! No need for violence, big guy. I’m just saying, the whole tea-party-knight-in-shining-armor thing is really your hidden talent. You should lean into it more often.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, watching Logan trying to hold onto his patience. “You’re just jealous, Wade,” you said, giving Logan a supportive nudge. “Logan actually knows how to keep a princess happy.”

Wade scoffed in mock indignation. “Please, I’d be the best tea party guest ever. I’d bring the snacks, the party games, and maybe a little bit of chaos. You know, just to keep things interesting.”

Logan groaned, finally yanking the tiara off his head and tossing it onto the couch. “I’ve had enough of your kind of ‘interesting,’ Wade. You’re on thin ice.”

Deadpool grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second of Logan’s irritation. 

“You know you love me,” He raised his hands and shaped them into a heart, batting his eyelashes in exaggerated sweetness.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Logan muttered, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

You shook your head, trying to suppress your laughter as Wade wiggled his eyebrows at Logan. “Face it, Logan,” you teased, “you’re stuck with us.”

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at you. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said, his voice tinged with fondness. 

Then, with a sideways glance at Wade, he added, “Though I could do with a little less chatter from some people.”

Wade threw his hands up in a dramatic shrug. 

“Hey, I’m just here to add spice to your otherwise dull existence. Admit it, you’d miss me if I were gone.”

Logan’s smirk grew as he leaned back into the couch, pulling you closer. 

“Don’t push your luck, Wade.”