there are very few things that can pry yuuji from between your thighs - you needing to pee is not one of them.
you never thought you'd regret bagging a boyfriend who loves to eat pussy. you were yuuji’s first taste, and you’ve been his late-night craving ever since. hardly ever will he let you go to bed without cumming on his tongue at least once, and you've never complained — it helps you sleep, after all.
but he's particularly hungry tonight. you would roll your eyes at his ambitions, but you think that would just spur him on further; you've cum twice already and the shake in your legs is only getting worse.
it doesn't help at all that he's a complete mess about it. no table manners, he's slurping and groaning and grinding his tender cock against your mattress, smearing the mess of cum he's made in his boxers all over his length. spit drips down your cunt, into it as he pushes slick-covered fingers in and out of you, and down onto your bedsheets in a gross mix of saliva and your own release.
"love you so much," he sweet-talks your pussy, presses light kisses to your clit over and over again as his fingers scissor inside of you. "can't... get enough..."
when he leans forward again and mushes his face against your heat, nuzzling against your clit like a fucking cat, you realise he's a little too pussy-drunk to operate. he inhales deeply, and you reach down with a shaky hand to push at the sweaty pink hair atop his head.
"'m tired, baby. too much anyway, can't cum again."
"uhuhh," he nods mindlessly, a beautiful pink blush on his face.
he's not listening to you. instead, yuuji tenses his tongue and knits his brows together in concentration as he tries to push it inside of you alongside his fingers.
"ngh," your thighs try to clamp down around his head at the new stretch, but his free arm keeps you locked in place. sometimes you hate how strong he is. you close your eyes and take each wave of pleasure as they come, but a twinge in your lower belly has them snapping open again. "wait, waitwait — yuu," you gasp, the huge soda cup your boyfriend had insisted on you drinking earlier catching up to you. "i gotta pee."
you look down just as yuuji's eyes flick up to meet yours, inquisitive from between your thighs. he pulls his tongue out, but instead of stopping his assault on your pussy, he redirects his attention back to your clit with a few kitten licks.
"didn't you hear me?" you groan. "i have to pee, get off."
"hm? just hold it."
you're going to kill him one of these days. "i can't just hold it," you tug at his hair harshly. "you don't get it, you're not a girl. pleaase, yuuji, i'm gonna pee my pants."
yuuji just smiles. he pulls his fingers out and licks a stripe up your messy cunt. "don't worry. you're not wearing any pants! hah."
you don't have the willpower to chide him. all you want to do is cry, and you're so close to doing so. you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath in, nose crinkling up in concentration as you try your hardest not to wet the sheets and embarrass yourself.
it's only once yuuji realises you're on the verge of tears that he pulls himself up (though not without one last kiss to your clit) and climbs over you.
"hey, don't cry," he frowns, holding your face in one hand and stroking your hair back with the other. he presses a wet kiss to your cheek, his lips still glistening with spit and your fluids. "i'll make it all better, mkay? don't even worry. i'll fix it — 'm sorry."
you open your eyes, about to thank him and push yourself to get up and rush off to the toilet, but he doesn't let you. with one strong hand, he presses down on our tummy, and he uses the other to pull his stiff cock out of his boxers.
"w...what?" you look down as he lines himself up with you and slowly pushes in, increasing the pressure on your abdomen with each inch he sinks inside of you. "wait... what are you doing?"
it's when he's about halfway sheathed inside of you that yuuji looks back up to your face and meets your gaze with blown-out eyes. he looks pathetic, messy-haired and breathing through his mouth. "i- i was going to make a joke about plugging you up, but now i'm inside of you and i really want you to pee while i'm like this."
you're so shocked that the pain in your bladder is hardly noticeable. "what!?" you gawk. "are you crazy? do you have a fever?"
your boyfriend shakes his head, biting his bottom look and looking like he's about to pop a vein. he's flustered for once, and looking down at you with that glossy look in his eyes that he gets when. he's right on the edge. you want to slap him across the face for being so lewd, making such a joke, but your bladder is about to burst, and if he doesn't get off in the next few seconds you're going to—
oh, god.
yuuji presses down even firmer on your tummy as you fail to hold it in, like he's trying to encourage the most humiliating moment of your life. with a gasp from you and a strangled moan from him, you let it go — piss flows straight out of you and down onto yuuji's cock where he's sheathed inside of you. he feels it coat the length he hasn't yet pushed in, and then run down to his balls, and stick to his thighs as it rushes down to soak the sheets.
his jaw goes slack, and just as you think he's about to pull out and exclaim his disgust; that he was just joking and you weren't meant to actually pee on him, he folds the fuck over and starts rutting into you like a dog in heat. your stream of pee doesn't end, still flowing out of you in all sorts of directions as yuuji fucks you hard and fast, balls slapping against your ass, hand still pushing down hard on your belly.
"ohmygodohmygod," he's the one who seems like he's on the verge of tears now, face red as he pulls out suddenly and, as your stream settles down into a trickle, pumps his cock a few times before shooting his load all over your piss-soaked cunt. "fuck. fuck. that was..."
"i'm so sorry," you blurt, hiding your face in your hands. "oh my god, i peed all over you."
yuuji is silent for a moment. and then he laughs, his whole body shakes with the force of it, and when he pulls your hands from your face and presses a kiss to your lips, you forget all about feeling embarrassed.
until, of course, he lowers himself back down to eat you out again. all you can do is whine as his tongue laps up the mess of pee and his own cum that covers your now-sticky folds.
I LOVE YOUR YUJI WORKS and i see u love yuji sm sm sm and i’m here to share a little earworm cuz it’s got me in a chokehold
yuji in boxers… like…. those tight boxers that don’t do anything to hide his outline……
AAUFHFHFHF FAT COCK YUJI
✩꒱ tighty whities — ft. yuuji itadori .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ characters are adults. yuuji itadori & fem!reader. handjobs, big dick yuuji, counting the inches, roommates to lovers -> every once in a while yuuji pulls out his tightest, teeniest pair of underwear and every once in a while you’re curious enough to see what they’re hiding.
thank you sm friend! i love him so much i want to live between his heart and lungs sooo bad idk what this is im feeling Lustful.
yes yes yuuji in those sickening tight white undies. i feel like perhaps he bought them by mistake and only wears them when he’s out of his usual boxers. super tight, hugging the slender curve of his waist and perfectly outlining his girth even though it’s tucked away. you can clearly see whenever he leaks through them because the thin white fabric stretched over the meatiest parts of him barely conceals anything. a darkness patch at the seam always gives yuuji away.
he’d be kind of embarrassed about them, constantly adjusting himself around you, shifting because his balls are practically bursting through the threads. if you’re roommates or best friends, you’ve definitely seen them in the wash or the laundry you do together and he always snatches them up with blatantly obvious red cheeks because they’re stupidly small for him.
and for a while, you think that yuuji really is that small.
until you hear the way his short-term flings cry his name in bed like it’s the only prayer they know. until you start listening out for the quiet, whimpering praise he offers them when they take all of him so well, inch by inch like good girls.
one girl stops you by the fridge one morning, yuuji’s shirt clinging to her curves and covering the fingerpad shaped bruises on her hips. “i don’t know how you live with him without jumping his bones,” she’d giggled, reaching for your milk. “he’s got the whole package, you know?”
you start looking at itadori a little differently. your eyes fall from his face to his print when you greet him after work or in the mornings when he’s back from the gym — attempting to discern the type of underwear he’s wearing based on what shows through his sweats. and you’ve always been touchy with each other, you’re friends and he’s great for cuddles, but now when you’re relegated to his lap during movie nights with fushiguro and his girlfriend, todo and nobara, oh! and maki and yuuta — you can feel the difference in his girth pressed against every time he shifts.
when he’s got those little tight boxers on that struggle to contain his hard on. the one you both ignore.
it’s one of those same movie nights where you cross boundaries for the first time. nobara stays over, too drunk to go home and be on her own, so you offer up your room and hunker down with yuuji because todo’s got the couch this time. in the mix, you some how manage to convince your pink haired roommate that you sleep better when he’s around. not just because he sleeps naked, you know this — you’ve been waiting on it just to see if the rumours are true.
yuuji scratches the back of his neck sheepishly with a soft blooming blush as you undress for bed and you try not to be obvious when your eyes trace the hardlines of his body right down to his crotch. those stupid tight white boxers you can’t seem to ignore now.
“sorry, know it’s a lot.” because you keep staring and he keeps twitching underneath the fabric and you have no idea how to tell him he’s making your mouth water. “i can put some sweats on—?”
you’re all too eager when shake your head no. “i-it’s your room. sleep however you’re most comfortable!”
naturally you end up snuggled with itadori in bed. surrounded by him. an excuse to be close. yuuji in nothing but those evil little boxers and you in morning but his shirt. your face in his neck for safety from the horror movie you’re watching and his arm loose around your waist. and you really can’t help it, when his cock is sitting there all fat and heavy and weepy, kicking because the air in the room is against his feverish skin — your fingers dance down to the waist band playfully at first. you’re touchy. friends do this… but then they hit the sinful swirl of his pink happy trail and everything shifts.
lust starts to bubble within your eyes, usually so sweet and innocent. you just have to know if he feels as big as he looks in them.
yuuji exhales shakily. not looking at you. “you’re not watching the movie, are you?”
a hint. a chance. you take it. “can i touch it?” your ask is a breathless whisper — as light as summer’s breeze and barely there. like a figure in the night. touch him, rub on him, do everything you’ve been thinking about for months.
he’s already straining, clenched at the abdomen to keep himself from cumming from the friction against his inner seam. yet he grows under your inquisitive attention, throbbing in a dull rhythm that calls up your greed as though it were following the beating lull of a siren’s song.
yuuji’s cheeks glow warm in the dimness, a rose tinted flame in the dark. he swallows. “if you wanna… j-just be careful, yeah?”
that’s all it takes.
his head tips back in a filthy shameful moan — pink hair askew like the flutter of petals — and his throat bobs as he swallows down a flurry of curse words once your hand slips past the waistband. your grip curiously stretches the tightness of boxers as your tiny hand wraps around his fat girth. sticky, pulsing with arousal, prominent veins forming indents in your palm.
“you feel so big, yuuji,” your nose brushes his pulse point with the same gentleness you would with your lips for a kiss. it’s as if you’re trying to inhale his life force, tuck yourself impossibly closer. he feels swollen in your hand, cock beating as unsteadily as his heart, and he oozes premature white into the crevices of your finger prints. “sensitive too.”
“nngh, i know,” whilst itadori’s hips jump without his control and forces his length through your first, the weight of his crown drops to yours. the two of you share a view, your slippery hand in his near-see-through boxers doused with slick and precum beading from his sappy mushroomed tip. “s-sorry, fuck. ‘m just so hard and you’re so pretty and you smell so good.” he admits to you quietly in a high pitched whine, like a secret exchanged between two lovers at a rendezvous point. for your ears only. no one else gets to know how wrecked you have him.
the bulbous head of his cock is raw and red, shiny, as it peaks out from the elasticated band of his boxers — only because you’ve stroked him to full hardness. he no longer fits in the fabric. you thumb him there in comforting circles, spreading his arousal in the same manner that drool spreads across your tongue.
long, dark lashes flutter against your forehead like angel’s kisses and you squeeze around every inch that slides through your hold — sharing airy moans the more yuuji leaks against your tight knuckles. “you could make me cum like this, y-y’know? in my boxers like a — fuck — like a teenager,” yuuji stutters, chasing words that don’t make sense on his tongue. hips running after the solace your soft strokes. “makes me feel so filthy, but i’ve been waiting for you. t-to notice? how badly i’ve wanted it to be you touching me like this. i’d do anything for you. anything, baby girl.”
his honesty turns and twists your guts into feverish knots.
“then will you?” you purr artlessly. eyes on the string of drooly white leaking from his sensitive tip. “wanna see how much you cum too.”
“god yes, i can cum. i’ll cum for you. just —!” yuuji’s large hand slips around your wrist and he guides you. helps you tug on the parts of his dick that make him gargle and struggle for breath. he bucks upwards, chasing pleasure and the heavenly solace your fist has to offer. “that’s it, just like that. make me cum, been waiting for so long.”
you’re in awe of it all. the ripple of his abs as he thrusts, the way moans coil in between the letters of your name as they leave his lips. you touch yuuji like you were made for it, jerk him off as though it were instinct. squeezing him every time his hips draw back, circling his tip over and over in languid runs of your thumb around the world.
he takes that as a sign, permission to let go of the unravelling knot he’s been trying to hold together since first laying beside you. on instinct, like his body knows nothing else, he squeezes you tight against him — cheek smooshed against your crown, shaky loud and whimpers in your ear that have your own underwear damp and he snaps.
like a twig with little resistance to pressure.
“oh my god — baby, shit!”
yuuji’s release is sizeable, viscous like lava flow as it rockets hotly up his abdomen and pools amongst the ridges of his abs and belly button. white against gold. his underwear is positively soiled all the way through, crude stringy cum gathering amongst his balls and your wriggling fingers as you jerk him through his high. where his back bows towards the ceiling as though the heavens have come to collect his sweet soul and his thighs shake like his foundations are unsteady.
and even after all that, all the ropes of hot white that hit his skin — he’s still hard and swollen, monstrous in size that suddenly dawns on you as yuuji rolls you onto your back. landing on top.
his shoulders, as they heave, block out the glow of the movie playing behind him — crowding you against the pillows, acting as a shield to hide you away from the world and you feel him heavy against your tummy. cold with slick but heated with arousal at the same time.
your roommate grins, buzzing and slow. “how many inches is the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”
“i don’t… know? i’ve never measured?” you squeak, suddenly flushed with a delicious mix of horniness and fear. “why?”
yuuji clicks his tongue then, big hand sliding up your face to cover your mouth — his free one guiding his erection between your now parted thighs.
“just wondering, how much of me you’ll be able to take tonight.”
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
…modulo!yuji’s gotta take care of his heat somehow..n you’re just too kind to say no…
…it’s so embarrassing!!, he’s still crossing his legs, slick seeping through at just a whiff of your scent, at his old ass age.. he’s like a virgin puppy in front of you….
…he’s so ashamed! Locking himself in your bathroom only to be coaxed out with the promise of help…
…this was supposed to be a chill night at your place… but yuji’s heat makes an unexpected arrival at the smell of your scent, locking himself in your bathroom in a desperate attempt to hide his leaky hole, eventually he makes the mistake of letting you coax him into opening the door…
…puppy!yuji…omega!yuji…old!yuji…manipulative!reader…mean!reader…slight! Coercion…smut…alpha!reader…slight omegaverse noncon…edging…handjob…dry humping…p with plot…art credits [kcokaine]
a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut this long, holi sheet. Gen degenerate shit, readers gender is not referred too so any1 can enjoy!
…yuji Itadori…
…yuji itadori…
Being immortal is one thing, but being stuck in a body that never ages made him feel a new found frustration for his secondary gender,
He’s an old ass man still having his heat cycle looming around each month— fuckin embarrassing shit. On top of that he’s been talking to this person and— fuck they smells so good, they’re definitely an alpha,, he’s already told you he looks young for his age- like really young, but how’s he supposed to bring up that at his old ass age he’s still getting heats—?
So ‘course he’s been chuggin heat supressents like his life depends on it— because his potential love life does!
sure movie nights are generic but he’s generic! And you like that about him!— but this wasn’t how he planned. Heat creeped up the back of his neck, his breathing becoming more erratic as his palms felt clammy— come onnn not now! You’ve invited him to your house for the first time this is a big step he can’t ruin this!
Shit, this is all his fault, he could feel his heat creeping in the past week, he felt on edge and gloomy, staying stuffed up in his house, holding onto some of the clothes you had forgotten stuffing his face in them— all the tell tail signs of his heat..that he choose to ignore, he didn’t wanna miss this!! And he thought those heat suppressants he chugged would do the trick! And they usually would but…
sitting next to you, your smell was drowning, his throat chocking up, brown eyes teary, if you asked him anything about the movie he wouldn’t be able to answer, muscular thighs pressed together, leaky dick begging to be held, sobbing hold begging to be stuffed—shiiiit
“ngh…hmm—“ his eyes snapped shut, hands slapping over his mouth, begging- praying— god, jesus, Buddha todo—please say you didn’t
“..hm…?” Fuck. Fuck you and your pretty eyes, that immediate attention you gave him, pausing the movie as if there couldn’t be anything to distract you from..him. “I— uhhh..um I’ll— be back!”
He’s so embarrassed, leaving you confused on the couch as locked himself in your bathroom, chest heaving as if your scent was a drug that left without had him in withdrawal.
his back pressed against the bathroom door as he slid down curled up on the floor, hand gripping his chest, it’s so hot, he feels so hot. “..yuji, what goin on.. can ya’ let me in…”
your voice— oh your sweet voice, that honey tone, shot straight through his dick, embarrassment only increasing.
“mmpf— n..nooo, don’t, don’ come innn…” He meant to sound slightly more composed, instead breaking into a whine, voice cracking, he just wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole, this is just too embarrassing,
a moment passed and he’d had hoped you’d had just left him to his own devices, leaving him shivering on the floor to figure himself out but— that’s not you, that’s not his y/n he knows his alpha would never do that…
another soft knock, as I talked coaxing him to come open the door. “Oh yuji… my poor yuji, you hurtin? It’s okay..it’s alright, I can make ya’ feel wayy better, jus’ open the door fo me’ hm..?
he wants to resist, he really does! But that sweet voice of yours, calm against his shaky panting, coaxing him to come closer let you help him, “nghh—mm..” he could only whine as that sickly scent of yours seemed to get..thicker? Seeping through under the door, it was like a toxin slowly killing him.. “fuuu… you— you’re doing..this on- on purpose!!”
he practically mewled, you’re such a meanie! You knew all this time how your scent was affecting him! Letting just a little more out than usual whenever he was around, letting it grow heavy around him, as he tried desperately to cover his slick stain.
“hahh..can you blame me? I’ve never been with an old shit so desperate to get stuffed full.” You snapped, your head banging against the door as you could practically smell his heat, leakin everywhere- fuck this old man really couldn’t learn to reel it in a bit?
Teeth dug into his lip, trying to suppress an instinctive whine, you could sense that big pout on his face, he didn’t like it when you were mean! “Mm..s-sstop it..”
fuckkk, no other omega made it this hard to fuck, especially an old shit like him, still your whiny grandpa made it especially impossible, with a sharp breath you spoke up again.
“hm…you’re right, that was— mean of me, wasn’t it? Then— lemme make it up to ya’” a hum and a sweet tone he so desperately wanted to believe, and believe he did. no matter how much his foggy brain begged him— pleaded to not open the door, don’t open the door—!!
“…mm..o-okay—shit!!” Just as soon as he unlocked the door, the light click barely registering as his back smashed against the side of the tub, tugging at you as your scent stuffed his nostrils full, shit were you tryna drown him? Hovering ontop of him as he helped you take his shirt off— so stuffy. Mewling like a cat
your thigh between his spread out legs, one harsh press against the burning between his legs and— “shit— did you really just cum?..Already?” You teased, you didn’t think the old man would be this pent up. So desperate as his hips bucked and grinded down against your leg on pure instinct “ah— ahhng shiiit— please—“
practically chocking up on his own drool as he begged, “please what?”
you were cruel— so cruel, when did you get like this-? You were so sweet on your date— “please..please please t-touch me..?”
pretty brown eyes blinking the pricking tears away, eye lashes damp, staring up at you with that pretty pink pout, lips raw from chewing, his eyes narrowing as his brows furrowed when you gave an experimental thrust of your leg, chuckling as you pressed it down on the large wet spot between his legs,
his thick thighs squeezing your leg pressed against his sensitive dick, eyes closing as he throws his head back, so so sensitive already from his first release and your teasing only drove him more mad, his hips grinding up onto your knee wetting it with cum and slick,
You pressed down your knee, stopping the slight movement, hands holding his hips to stop them from rutting up, “what? You cant cum right afta the last one, gotta atleast put onna show fo’ me.” You replied in response to his teary glare, hand covering half of his face, as glossy eyes dug into you,
dragging off your soaked knee you grew amused as you pulled down his waist band justtt a bit, soppy dick slapping against his abs, shit he was big for an omega— what a waste.
“nnghh— come onnn..I’m tryin’, I’m trying to hold back!” He cried as he pushed up against your hold, as if jumping the air long enough would get him off. So pathetic.
Staring up at those hazy eyes of yours, his muddied brain scrambled to find some way to get in your graces, anyway to convince you to get him off before his body just couldn’t bare it anymore, chest heaving, pretty pink nipple practically popping from his hoodie, strands of hair stuck to the sweat of his forehead, mouth slacking
His hand reached up, encircling around your neck, tugging you down with a whine for attention, pulling you close “kisss.. gimme.” With a site like that, you had to oblige
yuji’s never fucked without feelings, he doesn’t like it— it just isn’t him. Biceps wrapping around you as he hummed into the kiss, head reeling just of the feeling of your lips, sharp canine teeth biting and chewing into your bottom lip, “mmPF—!”
Eyes snapping open practically crossed as his thighs tensed, your lazy pumps on his cock driving him closer and closer to the edge
“oh gramps, think i should keep goin? Hm?” Your words barely processed through his thick head— until the thought of you stopping shot through his head, and dick. “Mmm…nooo,,shit— gonna die if you stop.” He pawed at your head, pheromones spiking, luring you in, so inviting wasn’t he? So pretty, so sweet, don’t cha’ just wanna get him off? Help him during his heat.
Pumping his sudding dick excruciatingly slow watching as beads of cum wept out his tip, angry head begging to explode, but— you were making it impossible, stoping, squeezing, how much more do you want! Slick pooling under the two of you, he felt like a fucking fountain.
your eyes widening as he broke out into a sob “hah— fuck.. hic I didn’t mean too— shit,, it hurts…My heat.. wahh— gotta cum— please hic make me cum.” He sobbed, gasping out between bursts of cries, fat tears flowing down his face, cheeks a harsh red as they puffed out, hands coiling and tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, he wanted to smell you, feel you deep inside him, wants your puppies…
really you wanted to be meaner, stall some more, watch those pretty eyes of his drench in harder sobs, chest shaking, mouth opened as he gasped for air in between his cries, you really wanted too, but, even you have instincts, the site of your omega, callin n crying out for you- shit, it just, made you snap. Give in to his desperate pleas,
Your hand snapped up and down hitting against his balls every time you brought it down, grip squeezing as your other hand finally left his hip letting up buckle up into your touch, he threw his head back chest tightening as his eyes lolled from side to side, what a lewd site it was, all with his red little hoodie still on.
“anGH- I’m gonna— wanna cum..so bad” your yuji was a good boy, regardless of how cruel or mean you could be, he still clawed at you to ask before he cums, the first one was a mistake you gotta believe him! He didn’t mean it..so…
“My lil—uh old omega wants to cum?.. then cum yuji.” Oh the faux sweet tone of yours, it made him come undone in seconds, body weeping, his back arched an insane degree, abs flexing tightly as he sqeezed your head, stuck between his beefy arms he was practically about to chock you out just in an effort to ground himself as his body convulsed, hips snapping up, breath hitching as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull,
you held him throughout, well— not that he’d let you move even if you tried, still, holding onto you helped keep his senses intact as he slowly rode of your high, your palm raw from rubbin up n down, even as he came all over you and himself, thick cum shooting right up into your shirt, some splashing on your face, dripping down onto his own lean waist,
chest slowing down as he regained his breath, “so…hot.” He muttered, complaining as he pulled at his collar. voice raspy from all the crying, still sniffling a bit as he regained his composure. Finally gathering the strength to pull his head up straight, looking right at you, quick blinking letting out a few stray tears,
“…so mean.” He groaned at that shit eating grin, letting his head fall back down, he was too old to be fuckin crazy like this. He just knew his back was gonna hurt in the morning
a.n. : this rec list is for the small (or not really) fandoms that i looove. there were a few stories from each of them, that’s why it didn’t made sense to create a single list for each one. so i reunited some amazing and the most perfect fics i found 💕 also these stories are not mine n I’m not claiming them!
this will be constantly updated!
main rec list
frosting|peeta mellark from @browneyedgirll +18
i just can’t do it alone|peeta mellark from @megwritesriddles +18
the chaos you keep|pietro maximoff from @maximummaximoff
multi-chapter fic +18
light speed|pietro maximoff from @figaroswilson
multi-chapter fic +18
dryhumping|james potter from @parseltonguekisses +18
blurb|henry creel from @trailerparkangell +18
use me(brutal hearts)|ajax petropolus from @sjdhrieei +18
vampire!reader|ajax petropolus from @lovingviolet
facts|ajax petropolus by me 🩷
call out my name|gideon gemstone from @genieswishes +18
a helping hand pt.2|spider socorro from @writingsully +18
neighbors|mike wheeler from @tublrella +18
can’t quit you baby|dean winchester from @spacejjunk +18
☁︎ Crimson, huh? - Being the sister of the Harvard hockey captain means living and breathing the ultimate collegiate rivalry. It means hating Briar University on principle. But for Y/N, it also means driving to a deserted diner in the middle of the night just to spend a few hidden, breathless hours in the front seat of a car with John Logan—the one boy she is absolutely forbidden to touch.
☁︎☹ Runaways - Based on the song Runaways. (ask box request)
☁︎ Sorry, Wrong Number - When Briar University's infamous right wing, John Logan, accidentally texts the wrong number, he expects a quick apology and a dead end. Instead, he finds a witty, sarcastic girl who isn’t afraid to put him in his place.
*⁀➷ Series:
☁︎☆ Co-Dependent - You are assigned a "RealCare" high-tech simulator baby that cries, needs feeding, and keeps you up at all hours of the night. Meanwhile, John Logan is on the verge of academic probation and needs to keep his grades up to stay on the ice. Because of this he begs you to let him do his fair share which leads to him practically moving into your place for the semester.
☁︎☆ Briar Hearts - Burnt out and dealing with a recent breakup (aka a year has passed), television scriptwriter Y/N relies on a VR romance simulator called Briar Hearts to escape reality with perfectly supportive digital boyfriends.
DEAN DI LAURENTIS (#66)
*⁀➷ Oneshot:
☁︎ choosin texas - Moving to Boston to be closer to your brother was supposed to be easy, but a string of disastrous apartment hunts leaves you crashing in Dean Di Laurentis’ pristine, high-end penthouse.
☁︎ hurricane - Managing a brutal pre-med workload while acting as the primary guardian for your younger brother, Leo, means practically living at the Briar rinks. When Briar’s notorious, effortlessly charming hockey star Dean Di Laurentis is assigned to coach Leo’s youth team, Hastings Hurricanes, you expect a front-row seat to a massive ego trip. Instead, he pleasantly surprises you.
☁︎ hurricane pt. 2.0
*⁀➷ Headcanon:
☁︎ Dean Di Laurentis being an absolute menace the second he realizes you have a crush on him
JOHN TUCKER (#46)
☁︎ Southern Strategy - To get a persistent, unwanted admirer off her back, she needs a shield and Briar U’s star hockey player, John Tucker, is the perfect campus royalty for the job.
☁︎ Tucker County - inspired by Hannah Montana The Movie. City girl moves back home for the summer and it seems like the universe keeps reminding her of what she left back in Texas.
(NOTE: i do overall fandom master taglists, not seperate ones for individual series/fics! Feel free to send me a message if you'd want to be added or removed)
♱ HEY GUYS! I have decided to participate in kinktober this year cus i realised i haven’t posted anything throughout September 😭 THIS IS MY FIRST EVER KINKTOBER SO IM REALLY EXCITED!
This kinktober will be strictly for BTS, STRAYKIDS and ATEEZ. In the span of a month, i will be posting short drabbles on the weekdays and not the weekends (to avoid burnout) excluding the first week, with a total days of 25. the first fic will be posted on OCT 1 and the rest will come in the following order.
Warning: some of the following prompt/kinks might be uncomfortable to some readers, so please refrain from reading further. Fics will be short drabbles and nothing more than that. Please be respectful and cooperative with me! Tysm!
✦ day 1 - namjoon : titfucking
✦ day 2 - hyunjin : hate sex
✦ day 3 - hongjoong : prostitution
✦ day 4 - hoseok : dubcon
✦ day 5 - bangchan : corruption
✦ day 6 - choi san : virginity
✦ day 7 - taehyung : breeding
✦ day 8 - jeongin : lactation
✦ day 9 - jimin : praise kink
✦ day 10 - lee know : humiliation
✦ day 11 - wooyoung : sensory deprivation
✦ day 12 - mingi : somnophillia
✦ day 13 - felix : noncon
✦ day 14 - lee know and bangchan : double penetration
✦ day 15 - seokjin : public sex
✦ day 16 - mingi, yunho, and seonghwa : moresome
✦ day 17 - yunho : spanking
✦ day 18 - seungmin : exhibition
✦ day 19 - yoongi : voyeurism
✦ day 20 - han jisung : deepthroating
✦ day 21 - changbin : panties
✦ day 22 - seonghwa : pregnancy
✦ day 23 - yeosang : face sitting
✦ day 24 - jongho : cockbulge
✦ day 25 - jungkook : masturbation
A/N : hope yall are excited as much as i am!! 😭😭😭 stay tuned!! <3
If you want to be part of the taglist please comment!!
IN WHICH - percy comes to camp and brings up a touchy subject to luke. ghost is tasked with calming him down.
contains: luke x fem!reader, lots of exposition
word count: 2,048
All the heads turned when Percy tripped walking into cabin eleven for the first time. Everyone knew he was the kid that killed the Minotaur on the same day he found out he was a half-blood. Some envied him, some hated him, some didn’t know what to think of the kid. Annabeth introduced him to the cabin despite everyone already knowing everything about him.
“Regular or undetermined?” one camper asked. Everyone braced for the “undetermined” answer from Annabeth, so excited for another random kid to take up more space in the already too-crowded cabin.
Percy felt super welcome. That is, before a tall, curly-haired, muscular guy came forward from the crowd. He wore the same bright orange “Camp Half-Blood” t-shirt that every other camper had on along with a similar beaded necklace to Annabeth, minus the gold ring in the middle. The only thing that really distinguished him was the white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw.
“Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there.” He pointed to the Minotaur horn on the floor in Percy's designated spot.
“That’s Luke. He’s your counselor for now,” Annabeth clarified.
“For now?” Percy asked.
“You’re undetermined. They don’t know what cabin to put you in, so they put you in the Hermes cabin. Hermes is our patron, the god of travelers, so naturally he would take in all the undetermined campers,” Luke explained. He seemed like the first genuine person Percy had met at camp so far. Well, other than Grover and Mr. Bru- Chiron. He didn’t miss, however, how Luke happened to forget to mention that Hermes is also the god of thieves. That explained why half of the campers in the cabin looked like they wanted to pick Percy’s pockets. He was used to that look, though. He’s a New Yorker.
Percy frowned slightly. “How long will I be here? In this cabin, I mean.”
“Good question,” Luke asked. “Until you’re determined.”
“How long until that happens?”
The other campers snickered, but Luke didn’t. Before he could explain that you get claimed on the gods’ time, Annabeth started dragging Percy to “show him the volleyball courts” before he could embarrass himself further, muttering something along the lines of “I don’t care that you’ve already seen them, you’re gonna see them again.”
Later that same day, after Luke had managed to get a sleeping bag from storage and steal some toiletries from the camp store from Percy, he greeted him at his spot on the floor. “Tough first day?” Luke asks, sitting down next to him while plopping down the new stuff he got for Percy.
“I don’t belong here. I don’t even believe in gods.”
“Yeah,” Luke began. “That’s how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn’t get any easier. Their world is… complicated.” The words came out surprisingly bitter. He spoke with venom in his voice, something Percy hadn’t heard from him thus far.
“So your father is Hermes? The wing-footed messenger guy?” Percy asked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.
Luke pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket and scraped some mud off the sole of his sandal. Percy thought he was gonna gut him. He made an internal sigh of relief.
“That’s him. Messengers, medicine, travelers, merchants, thieves, anyone who uses the road, really. That’s why you’re here, enjoying the lovely hospitality that cabin eleven has to offer. Hermes isn’t picky about who he houses,” Luke said, equally as bitterly. Clearly his dad was a touchy subject. Percy decided to ignore the fact that Luke basically just called him a nobody, as well.
“You ever meet your dad?”
“Once.”
Percy didn’t push it.
“Don’t worry about that, Percy. It’s almost time for dinner. You must be starving.” Luke stood up, offering me his hand. We began to walk out when Clarisse, the mean Ares kid that tried shoving Percy in the toilet earlier, catches Luke’s eye as she shoves past a girl with a braid in her hair and a smile. You. Luke stiffens.
Within seconds of you being shoved, Luke is there, pulling you gently behind him. He gets in Clarisse’s face and wordlessly makes her back off and fall in line with the rest of the campers in her cabin getting ready for dinner. She snickers before muttering to her siblings, “Should’ve known he’d come to her rescue. It’s like he thinks she’s glass.”
Luke turns around to face you, but you look unamused. “I don’t need you to come to my rescue, Luke. I could’ve handled her on my own. I could’ve tested out my swordsmanship in a real world scenario rather than training with you,” you say.
“I know, Ghost, but-”
“No buts, Castellan, we’re late for dinner and they’re serving enchiladas today. Grover will be so excited!” You take Luke’s hand and then turn to Percy. “You must be Percy! Everyone at camp was talking about you today.” You introduce yourself to Percy with a bright smile.
On the way to the mess hall, Percy brings up the question that’s been on his mind all day since the toilet incident. “Earlier, Clarisse joked about me being ‘Big Three’ material. Then Annabeth… twice, she said I might be ‘the one.’ She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?”
Luke squeezed your hand. “I hate prophecies.”
“What do you mean? Why?” Percy asked, but you shot him a quick look that almost said “touchy subject.”
“Let’s just say I messed things up for everyone else. The last two years, ever since my quest to the Garden of Hesperides didn’t turn out how I’d planned, Chiron hasn’t allowed any more quests. Annabeth’s been dying to get out and see the world. She pestered Chiron so much that he finally told her that he already knows her fate. He had a prophecy from the Oracle. He refused to tell her the whole thing, but he said that Annabeth wasn’t destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until… somebody special came to the camp. Now she wants to think that every new camper is the omen she’s been waiting for.” Suddenly, Luke’s bitterness towards the gods was clear to Percy; Luke had failed a quest and blamed himself for Chiron not allowing quests, thus resulting in a weird relationship with the gods.
You spoke up from the other side of Luke, “Don’t worry about it too much, Percy. Quests are dangerous. If any of us go out into the real world, monsters will find us almost instantly.” It sounded like you were trying to convince Luke more than you were trying to convince Percy, and you squeezing Luke’s hand as you spoke solidified it. That didn’t matter now, however, as they arrived at the mess hall for dinner Percy was ready to inhale.
After dinner, Luke walked hand-in-hand with you to their spot in the woods, the smell of campfire smoke still on their clothes as crickets sung. Luke is relaxed here, away from the eyes of people expecting things from him. You guys sat down on a log that you had carved your initials into when you’d first gotten to camp all those years ago, well before the two of you were a couple.
“You didn’t eat a lot at dinner,” he starts, not looking at you.
“Yes I did.”
“You had half of your sandwich.”
“Did you see that sandwich? It was giganormous! I couldn’t have finished that if I was Connor.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“And you’re overprotective”
“Of course I am, Ghost. You’re my girl. Can’t have anything happening to you,” he says quietly, like a promise that he’ll always protect you.
You know what he’s thinking. He had to talk about the Garden of Herespides today, the dragon… it must’ve brought back memories of-
“You didn’t even know how to hold a sword,” he says, which confirms your suspicions. So we’re talking about it.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me quit.”
“I wouldn’t let you die. The gods were going to and I just-” you cut him off before he can continue.
“I’m here, Luke. That’s behind us. That was so many years ago, we’re older now. I know how to fight. You trained me. We’ll never be in that situation again, but in the universe that we are, I can take it. We can take it.”
“Have you ever noticed how the gods never help when it gets bad for their children?” he starts, the venom creeping into voice like how it does whenever he talks about the gods. “Even for mortals, they don’t care. They’re selfish. When we do all the hard work, they expect us to be grateful to them for surviving. All camp does is teach us how to die in a way that will serve the gods, not how to survive. Every demigod meets an awful fate. They’re selfish for bringing demigod children into the world knowing they’ll meet the same fate as every demigod prior.”
“Luke-” you start, looking at him with a frown
“Don’t look at me like that, Ghost.”
“Someone has to look out for us.”
“I have you to look out for me. I don’t want the gods. I don’t need them. They’ve done nothing for either of us.” He sounded desperate, like he needed something (or someone) to keep him grounded. He put a hand up to his temple. You grabbed that hand and squeezed it tight.
“And I will look out for you, Luke. You know I will. I’d follow you anywhere,” you reassure, which seems to calm him.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
You get up and hold your hand out for Luke to take, wanting to lighten the mood. “Dance with me, Luke.”
“What?”
“Come on, don't be a Debbie Downer! We can hum or something!” you say with a bright smile on your face as you pull Luke up from his spot on the log.
His face lights up. This is the woman he fell in love with. He places his hands on your waist as you place yours on his shoulders as you begin to sway back and forth.
“What should we hum?” you ask, looking up at Luke who was already looking down at you.
“You’re the daughter of the god of music, sweet girl. Surprise me.”
That was just the answer you were looking for. You start humming the tune of “Pretty Boy” by The Neighbourhood, a song you two loved listening to quietly in your cabin late at night when the others were sleeping. You can feel him smile into your hair. You stay like that for a good ten minutes before you hear the harpies begin their night time patrol around the perimeter of camp for any campers out past curfew
Luke sighs. “I wish we could stay like this forever. Just us.”
“Me too, Luke,” you say before squeezing him tight and pulling away, your hands on his biceps. “Oooh, you been working these out?” you tease with a smirk, squeezing them.
“Just for you, baby. Always for you. Need to be strong to protect my girl. Anyone sees these guns, they’ll run away terrified,” he gloats, flexing his biceps with a smirk. He knows you love this. He takes your hand when he hears the harpies getting closer. “Come on, Ghost. We don't need to be food for the harpies.”
He walks you back to your cabin without being caught. You stop in front and turn to Luke, a smile on your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Yes you will. Big day tomorrow with capture the flag. Annabeth has a great plan, we’re almost guaranteed a win.” He caresses your face and kisses your forehead sweetly.
“You missed,” you say.
“Oops.” And then he kisses you softly on the lips. When he pulls back, he whispers, “Good night, sweet girl. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“No you don’t. We do this all-” he’s cut off when your lips meet his again, and suddenly he can’t argue.
synopsis :: you might have slight claustrophobia and the one place you end up hiding is a 3×3 box (literally, not literally)
warnings :: giggling and kicking your feet kind of fluff, dumb (seaweed brain) percy, mentions of fear of small spaces (claustrophobia)
word count :: 1.5k
pairing :: Percy Jackson x reader (can be any version of percy!)
pjo masterlist
The hallway of the Upper East Side apartment complex was a blur of beige wallpaper and overpriced sconces as you and Percy scrambled for cover. Behind you, the heavy, rhythmic thud of claws against carpet echoed—a sound that definitely didn't belong to a golden retriever. Whatever was chasing you was big, hungry, and very much not supposed to be in a residential building.
“In here!” Percy hissed, his hand catching your wrist and pulling you toward a nondescript gray door.
He didn't wait for an answer. He shoved the door open, pulled you inside, and clicked the lock just as a low, guttural snarl vibrated through the wood.
The space was minuscule. It wasn't just a closet; it was a sanctuary for mops, buckets, and industrial-sized bottles of bleach. Between the shelving units and the oversized floor buffer, there was barely enough room for two teenagers to stand, let alone breathe.
Percy was pressed nearly flush against you, his breathing heavy and ragged from the sprint. The scent of the ocean—that salt-and-sea-breeze smell that always seemed to cling to him even in the middle of a dusty city—filled the tiny space. In the dim light filtering through the crack under the door, his sea-green eyes were wide, scanning the shadows for any other threats.
He looked down at you, his brow furrowing. Even in the dark, he could see the way your shoulders were hiking up toward your ears.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave to stay under the monster's radar. “We’re okay. It can’t get through that door easily. I’ve got Riptide ready.”
You tried to nod, but your breath was hitching in your throat. The walls felt like they were leaning in, eager to swallow you whole. The smell of lemon cleaner was becoming suffocating. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to convince your brain that you were in an open field and not a 3x3 box.
“I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though your hands were white-knuckled as you gripped the fabric of his damp orange camp shirt. “Totally fine. Just...catching my breath.”
Percy didn’t look convinced. He shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours, and he realized you weren't just winded—you were vibrating.
“You’re not okay,” he said, his voice laced with genuine worry. He reached out, hovering his hands over your arms as if afraid he’d break you. “You’re shaking. What can I do?”
A hysterical, bubbly laugh escaped your lips—short and sharp. Your voice was unsteady, wavering like a radio signal losing its frequency.
“Is now a bad time to mention I’m claustrophobic?”
Percy’s eyes went dinner-plate wide. “Wait—what?”
He started to look around frantically, his "hero brain" clearly short-circuiting. “Okay, okay. Do I...do I break the wall? I could probably kick through the drywall to the next room, but that might make a lot of noise, and then the monster finds us, and then—wait, no, breathing! You’re supposed to breathe. My mom says you should count. Or is it square breathing? Do I draw a square?”
His whispered rambling was so earnest and panicked that it almost distracted you from the crushing weight of the walls. He looked like he wanted to fight the closet itself for daring to be so small.
But then, the world went dead silent.
The scratching at the door stopped. A heavy weight leaned against the wood, making the hinges groan. A wet, sniffing sound drifted through the gap. The monster was right there. It was listening.
Percy’s frantic energy vanished instantly, replaced by a calm, protective stillness. Before you could spiral into a full-blown panic attack, he moved. He didn't pull away; instead, he stepped into your space, closing the last few inches of distance.
He gently but firmly tucked your head under his chin, pulling you against his chest. One of his hands came up to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. His pen’s cap long forgotten, Riptide at the ready in all it’s glory.
“Shh,” he breathed into your hair, so softly you felt the vibration more than you heard the sound. “I’ve got you. Just focus on my heartbeat. Don’t look at the walls. Just listen to me.”
You buried your face into the crook of his neck, your hands migrating from his sleeves to his waist, clinging to him like an anchor. He continued to stroke your hair, his touch steady and grounding. Every time you shivered, his grip tightened just a fraction, a silent reminder that he wasn't letting go.
Outside, the monster let out a frustrated huff, its heavy footsteps finally beginning to recede down the hallway. The floorboards stopped vibrating. The danger was drifting away.
Neither of you moved for a long time. The silence of the apartment complex returned, save for the distant hum of an elevator and the sound of your own synchronized breathing.
The walls didn’t feel quite as close anymore. Not when Percy was acting as a shield between you and the rest of the world.
“I think it’s gone,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. You didn't move an inch. “Thank you, Percy.”
Percy’s hand slowed its movement in your hair, but he didn't pull away. He rested his cheek against the top of your head, letting out a long, relieved sigh.
“Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “I’m the one who dragged you into a janitor's closet. Note to self: next time we hide from a mythological killing machine, we find a ballroom. Or a stadium. Somewhere with high ceilings.”
You let out a genuine, soft laugh this time, your forehead still resting against his collarbone. Your arms were still wrapped firmly around his waist, and honestly, you weren't in any rush to unwrap them.
“A ballroom sounds good,” you agreed, finally pulling back just enough to look up at him.
Percy was looking down at you with an expression that was way too soft for a guy who had just been ready to fight a monster. His face was slightly flushed, but he was smiling—that lopsided, dashing smile that always made your heart do a clumsy somersault.
“You okay now?” he asked, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “Do we need to make a break for the fire exit, or do you want to stay in the bleach-scented box for another minute?”
“Maybe just another minute, ” you admitted, leaning back into him. “For safety. Obviously.”
Percy chuckled, his arms settling back around you comfortably. “Obviously. Safety first.”
The "another minute" stretched into several, the quiet of the closet no longer feeling like a cage, but more like a cocoon. Percy’s thumb continued its slow, absent-minded rhythm against your shoulder, a gesture so natural he probably didn't even realize he was doing it.
Eventually, the weight of the silence outside became more reassuring than heavy. Percy shifted, his chest rising as he took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice vibrating right against your ear. “I think the coast is clear. But we’re skipping the elevator. Definitely too small, and way too much 'dinging' for a stealth mission.”
He reluctantly let go of you, but as he reached for the door handle, he didn't pull his other hand away. Instead, he slid his fingers down your arm until they found your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. His palm was warm and slightly calloused, a solid reminder that you weren't alone.
“Just so you don’t get lost in the hallway,” he murmured, though the flush on his cheeks told a different story. “And, you know, in case I need to pull you into another closet. Which I won’t. I promise. Only ballrooms from here on out.”
He cracked the door open. The hallway was empty, the beige carpet now littered with a few tufts of dark, coarse fur—the only evidence that a monster had been stalking the halls.
You both crept toward the stairwell, your footsteps muffled. Every time a floorboard creaked or a distant TV blared from behind an apartment door, Percy’s grip on your hand tightened. He stayed half a step in front of you, Riptide (back in its pen form) held tightly in his other hand, his eyes scanning every corner with that intense, protective focus he only got during quests.
When you finally reached the heavy steel door of the stairwell, he pushed it open and let out a long, theatrical breath.
“Space!” he announced softly, gesturing to the wide, echoing concrete landing.
You made it down the six flights of stairs and burst through the lobby's side exit into the cool, crisp New York City night. The transition from the cramped, lemon-scented closet to the vast, open skyline was like taking your first real breath in hours.
The city was loud, bright, and wonderfully large.
Percy didn't let go of your hand until you were two blocks away, tucked into the safety of a brightly lit 24-hour deli’s neon glow. Only then did he stop, turning to face you fully. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by that comfortable, sleepy haze that usually followed a near-death experience.
“You did good back there,” he said, his voice soft. He reached up, awkwardly brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering just a second too long near your temple. “I mean, for someone who hates small spaces, you handled a closet-dwelling monster situation pretty well.”
“I had a good distraction,” you teased, feeling the lingering warmth of the hug in your chest.
Percy grinned, that mischievous, boyish look returning to his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something more—something meaningful—but instead, he just bumped his shoulder against yours.
“Next time, I’m checking the square footage of our hiding spots before we jump in. I'll bring a tape measure. It’ll be part of my hero kit.”
You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment as you walked toward the subway. The quest wasn't over, and there were probably more monsters waiting in the shadows of the Upper East Side, but for the first time all day, the world felt exactly the right size.
em speaks! I read this to my friends and they were giggling and kicking their feet like little girls in the middle of the library
after neteyam has to take training more seriously to be the future clan leader, he ignores y/n leaving her upset and angry at the sully boy.
i see you:
after a fight with his father about not keeping an eye on lo’ak after the situation outside the reef, Y/N finds him alone on the sand and decides to comfort him.
fly with you:
y/n desperately wants to ride along with neteyam during the raids, but he is hugely against it leading to some cruel words and meaningful apologies.
what led up to your first kiss:
the day that led up to neteyam kissing you (headcanons)
misunderstood:
neteyam asks for advice from tsireya to confess to you, however, you misunderstand thinking he loves tsireya
how can i lose you?:
y/n is promised to a stranger, a man who isn't even her own clan but when she takes an angry flight she meets a boy who makes her feel loved
always been you:
neteyam knows he wants to spend the rest of forever with you by his side, all he has to do now is ask.
going up to your arms after a long day:
a long days remedy is your mates arms (headcanons)
stood up
neteyam promised he wouldn't flake on you again. too bad he's a liar.
can i play with your hair?
you love to play with neteyams hair, make him look pretty with all the beads on the world. neteyam simply loves you
adores you
neytiri is a phenomenal woman. who wouldn't be afraid to met her? you are even if neteyam says she adores you
starlight:
neteyam had little direction in life anymore, he had no idea what to do with his life as a metkayina, but meeting you gave him purpose.
date night:
neteyam managed to get out of his duties just to spend the night with his beautiful girl
paint:
tuk took it upon herself to paint neteyam very...pretty. you can't help but tease him as you help him wash it all off
return: pt1 → pt2 → pt3 → pt4
five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?
idiot:
a mess up on your first hunt leads to some lighthearted teasing and tooth rotting fluff
reckless
even the strongest of loves is tested in the throws of war
neteyamslovrr | do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.
Summary: The secret of your Mangkwan blood was never meant to leave the shadows between you and Neteyam. But a single slip of Neteyam’s tongue brought the truth crashing down, turning you into a public enemy and sealing your exile in the cold western cliffs.
Warnings: 3,5k words, aged up! neteyam, rivals to friends to (kinda) lovers maybe, no smut, angst tho, you two are still being idiots, heartbreak(?) hehe.
Chapters: friendly fire, friendlier fire, friendliest fire, frozen fire, seed of fire
The High Camp was buzzing with the frantic energy of an impending move. Huts were being dismantled, and the air was thick with the scent of smoke and stressed ikran. You kept your head down, your hands busy tightening the cinch on a supply pack. You had perfected the art of being a ghost.
You hadn't spoken a word to Neteyam since the grove. Not a real word.
Every time you passed him, you felt the phantom itch of the tsaheylu at the base of your skull. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and questioning, but you never looked up. The air between you was always charged, like the sky right before a lightning strike.
You avoided him because the tsaheylu hadn't just shared sensations. Whatever that happened that night has stripped you of your armor.
You used to be a girl with no home, no ties, and no weaknesses. But in that night, you had felt his soul recognize yours, and even worse, you had felt yourself recognize him. You were terrified of the "we" he had whispered.
Every time you saw the silver scar on his chest, you remembered the taste of his skin and the way his heart had thudded against your palm. It made you feel weak. It made you feel Omatikaya. And you knew that the moment you looked into his gold eyes, everything you’d used as a shield of your feelings would crumble into dust.
So, you treated him like a stranger. You stayed in the shadows, focusing on the cold weight of your daggers and the salt-sting of your memories, convinced that if you ignored the bond long enough, it would eventually stop screaming.
But the bond didn't stop screaming, it just learned how to howl in the silence.
You weren't just avoiding him. You were avoiding the version of yourself you had become in his arms. That girl was soft. That girl was loud. That girl belonged to a family, a clan, and a future.
The silence between you was a thin sheet of ice, and today, Neteyam was wearing heavy boots.
"The supply lines are moving East," he said, his voice loud enough to carry over the din of the deconstructing camp. He was standing in the center of the walkway, forcing you to acknowledge him. "My father wants the medics on the first flight."
"I heard the briefing, Sully," you muttered, still refusing to look up from your pack. "I don't need a personal herald."
"Apparently you do," he snapped, his patience finally fraying after two weeks of being treated like a ghost. He stepped into your personal space, forcing you to drop the rope. "Because every time I try to give you an order, you disappear. You’re avoiding your responsibilities."
"I’m avoiding you," you hissed, finally snapping your head up. Your eyes clashed with his, and the air between you ignited. "There’s a difference. I do my job. I just don't do it for you."
"Why? Because you can't look at me without remembering what we did?" Neteyam's voice rose, attracting the attention of a few nearby hunters. "Because you're scared that I actually know what's behind that cold, arrogant mask of yours?"
"There is nothing behind it!" you yelled, shoving his chest. It was like hitting a stone wall.
"No! I'm tired of the lies!" he roared, his voice carrying across the entire ridge, stopping the dismantlement of the huts. He stepped closer, his finger pointing accusingly at your chest. "You act like you don't belong here, like you're some ghost. Why are you so ashamed of who you are?"
"Stop it," you breathed, panic rising in your chest as you saw Jake and Neytiri approaching from the command tent.
"Why?" Neteyam yelled, his voice cracking with the weight of the angst he’d been carrying. "Because you're Mangkwan? Because you think being a sea-blood killer means you don't get to have a heart?"
The busy sounds of the camp died instantly. Hunters froze. Children stopped playing. In an Omatikaya camp, the presence of a Mangkwan was a shock. You felt every eye in the camp land on you, seeing through your disguise for the first time.
You looked at Neteyam, your heart shattering not from the secret being out, but from the fact that he was the one who threw it away.
"You're a fool," you whispered, the betrayal stinging worse than any wound.
The shift was immediate and brutal. When you walked toward the communal cooking fire, the chatter died down as if you’d brought a cold draft with you.
Mothers would reach out, their fingers hooking into their children's shoulders to pull them back into the shadows of their tents as you passed. You saw the way they looked at you, not with hatred, but with a deep superstitious fear. To them, a Mangkwan was a creature of blood and shifting tides, a bad omen that didn't belong in the steady heart of the forest.
The gossip was the worst part.
"She never goes to the Tree to pray," you heard a woman murmur as you scrubbed your daggers by the stream. "I heard they don't have hearts. No faith."
"Did you see her eyes during the hunt?" another replied. "Cold. No wonder Neteyam was acting so strange."
You kept your back straight and your expression like flint, but every whisper felt like a needle under your skin. You were used to being alone, but this was a different kind of isolation. The kind where you were surrounded by people and yet remained completely invisible, except for the parts of you they feared.
You stopped going to the communal meals. It was easier to eat dried fruit alone in the dark than to watch the Omatikaya shift their mats away from you. Even the other medics, people you had bled beside in the medical wing, now found excuses to be elsewhere when you arrived for your shift.
The final blow came from the commander.
Two days after the move, you were summoned to the command center. You expected a briefing, a target, or even a lecture. Instead, you found Jake Sully standing over a map, his face tight with a weary sort of frustration. He didn't look at you as you approached.
"You’re being removed from the main mission roster and for any kind of missions. I can’t have you on the front lines if the hunters and warriors won't trust you at their back. It's a safety risk, for them, and for you."
"I saved your son’s life," you said, your voice a low rasp. "I’ve bled for this clan for almost two years. And you're benching me because of camp gossip?"
"I’m protecting my people," Jake countered, though there was a flicker of something like regret in his eyes. "All of them. Including you. You’re being moved to the outpost in the western cliffs. You’ll stay there, away from the main camp, until things settle down. You'll hunt for your own food. You’ll keep your distance."
"What? Why–"
"The people are uneasy," Jake interrupted, finally looking up. His eyes weren't unkind, but they were firm, settled in a way that left no room for argument. "They’re calling you a bad omen. The hunters won't fly with you, and the families don't want you near the main camp's supply lines. They think your presence brings the wrong kind of attention from the Great Mother."
It was a soft exile. A way to scrub the Mangkwan stain from the Omatikaya’s sight without actually killing you.
"And my work in the medical wing?" you asked, your voice a brittle thread of its former self.
"Neytiri thinks it's best if you stay away from the wounded," Jake said, and there it was, the real sting. "She says the spirits of the ancestors won't heal those who are tended by a hand that doesn't pray."
You didn't wait for a dismissal. You turned on your heel and walked out, your heart a cold dead weight in your chest.
Within the hour, you had packed your few belongings. You didn't say goodbye to the other medics. You didn't look for Neteyam. You moved your gear to a small and damp hollow on the far edge of the cliffs, miles away from the warmth of the communal fires and the humming songs of the village.
From your new home, the High Camp looked like a distant and glowing star. You were close enough to see the life you had briefly shared, but far enough away to know you would never be part of it again. You sat in the dark, the Mangkwan cave feeling more like home than the forest ever had.
The isolation that was supposed to break you turned out only to sharpen the edges you’d spent months trying to blunt. If they wanted a Mangkwan demon, you would give them one.
Living away from the villages meant you were the first to see the valley wake up, and you were the only one who didn't have to wait for a leader's permission to move. While the Omatikaya were still waking up and singing their morning prayers to Eywa, you were already deep in the brush, moving like a ghost through the shadows.
A few days into your exile, you spotted a prime yerik, a massive one that usually required a party of four hunters to take down. You tracked it for almost an hours in total silence and finally brought it down with a single strike to the neck.
The trek back to the fringes took you right past the main gathering trail, exactly when the mid-day hunting parties were returning.
You didn't hide. You shouldered the massive weight of the beast, your muscles slick with sweat and its dark blood staining your shoulders, and walked right through the center of the path.
You saw them before they saw you. A group of young Omatikaya hunters were laughing, carrying a couple of scrawny yerik, barely enough to feed a single family.
As you approached, the laughter died. You didn't slow down. You kept your pace steady, your eyes fixed forward, a solitary, blood-drenched shadow. You moved right past them, the sheer size of your kill making their measly catch look like a joke.
"How did she take that down alone? Without a party?" You heard one of them said, his voice dripping with a mix of awe and resentment.
"She probably used poison. There is no honor in a kill like that," another spat, though he didn't dare say it loud enough for you to turn around.
You let out a short, cold huff of a laugh, loud enough for them to hear. You didn't need their honor. You had the meat, and you had the satisfaction of watching their pride shrivel in your wake.
You reached your isolated hollow and dropped the beast with a heavy thud that echoed against the cliffside. You sat down, pulling out your primary dagger to begin the skinning, the bitterness in your chest feeling almost like a victory. They could pray all they wanted, but they were still going home with empty stomachs while the omen ate like a queen.
You were halfway through the work when you felt it. That familiar prickle at the base of your skull. You didn't look up. You just kept the blade moving, the silver edge slicing through the hide with a wet sound.
"That's a lot of meat for one person," a voice said from the shadows of the trees.
Neteyam was standing there, leaning against a trunk.
Neteyam stayed back for a second, his weight shifting uncomfortably. He looked at the massive yerik and then back at you, sitting there in the dirt, covered in blood and looking more dangerous than he’d ever seen you.
"Don't worry," you said, your voice dripping with a cold, sharp sarcasm. You didn't even look up from your work, the blade of your dagger slicing through the hide with effortless precision. "I'm greedy. I plan on eating every single bit of it myself."
Neteyam shifted awkwardly, his fingers twitching over a small woven satchel hanging at his hip. You caught the scent of it, a sweet and ripe darsel fruit. He had clearly come here thinking you were starving in exile, playing the hero to the abandoned girl. But as he stepped fully into your camp, his eyes widened, and his ears flattened in sheer embarrassment.
Your hollow wasn't a place of suffering. It was a damn fortress of plenty. Racks were full of smoked fish, baskets were overflowing with forest fruits you’d scavenged better than any Omatikaya, and the massive yerik at your feet was enough to feed a dozen hunters.
You paused then, looking at the tiny bag of fruit in his hand and then back up at his face. A mocking smirk spread across your lips. "What’s that, Sully? Are you bringing me a snack?"
Neteyam looked down at the fruit, his blue skin flushing a darker shade. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He let out a long breath and walked closer, dropping the satchel onto a flat stone with a muted thud.
"I... I didn't know," he muttered, his usual confidence completely stripped away. "I thought you were... I came to say I'm sorry."
Neteyam moved closer, his footsteps soft on the damp earth. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. "I’ve been trying to talk to my father," he began, his voice low and cracked. "About the exile. About what happened at the camp. I’m... I’m sorry. I shouldn't have yelled it. I shouldn't have put you in that position. It was my pride, and I—"
"Are you joking?" you interrupted, finally looking up. You let out a short laugh that had no warmth in it. You wiped a smear of blood off your cheek with the back of your hand, leaving a dark streak. "This is the best time of my life, Neteyam."
He froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What?"
"No orders, no prayers, and most importantly... there's no annoying prince breathing down my neck. No you annoying me every ten minutes, no sulking about your duty. I finally have some peace," you said, a cruel but beautiful smile spreading across your lips.
Neteyam flinched as if you’d struck him, his golden eyes searching yours for a lie. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" you countered. "I’ve never been happier. So you can take your sorrys and your snacks back to the village. I’m doing just fine in the dark."
Neteyam went quiet, his gaze dropping to the massive yerik you’d single-handedly conquered. The silence stretched, thick with the tension of the last two weeks, until he let out a long, weary breath. He looked up at you, his golden eyes searching yours, softened by a vulnerability he usually kept locked behind his warrior’s mask.
"Fair enough," he murmured, a faint, lopsided ghost of a smile touching his lips. He gestured to the carcass, then back to himself. "But if you’re truly as greedy as you say... do you think you could find it in your heart to share some of that meat with a hungry prince? I’ve had a long walk, and the communal's meal is starting to taste like disappointment."
You stared at him for a beat, your thumb tracing the edge of your blade. You wanted to stay bitter. But seeing him looking so genuinely humbled made the ice in your chest crack just a tiny bit.
"Alright," you muttered, turning back to the carcass. "But you’re cleaning the ribs. I’m not playing servant just because you’ve got a royal title."
"Deal," he said quickly, almost too fast, as if he was afraid you’d change your mind.
He moved in beside you, picking up a smaller blade from your kit. For a while, the only sound was the crackle of the fire you’d started and the rhythmic work of preparing the meat.
As the meat started to sizzle over the flames, the scent filled the small hollow, cutting through the damp smell of the caves. Neteyam didn't even wait for an invitation this time before he reached over and snagged a piece directly from the heated stone, huffing a breath to cool it before popping it into his mouth.
His eyes widened, a low, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat. It was tender, perfectly seared, and carried the smoky richness of the wood you’d chosen.
"Wow," he exhaled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I forgot you actually know how to cook. I thought you just lived on spite and sea salt."
"I do," you muttered, though you couldn't hide the slight twitch of your lips. "The cooking is just a side effect of having taste buds."
Neteyam smiled and looked at you. In the village, he was the leader, the son, the responsibility. But here, in the dirt of your exile, he looked relaxed. He loved being with you because you were the only person who didn't look at him and see a throne. You just saw a guy who was bad at lying and liked your food.
"You're staring, Sully," you said, though there was no real bite in your voice anymore. You nudged a larger portion of meat toward him with your blade. "Eat. Before I change my mind and make you pay for it in fruit."
"I'd pay a lot more than that to stay here for a while," he admitted.
"The mighty warrior, hiding in an exile hollow because he can't handle a few meetings," you teased, though your heart did a slow roll in your chest. "Your father is going to come looking for you, Neteyam. I’m already the camp’s bad omen. I don’t need kidnapping the prince added to my list of crimes."
"If kidnapping the prince is a crime, then I am a willing victim," Neteyam murmured, his voice dropping to a low, magnetic hum that vibrated in the small space between you.
He didn't wait for your next snarky retort. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. You started to open your mouth to tell him to go home, to tell him that this was dangerous, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in.
The kiss wasn't like the desperate collision in the grove. It was slow, heavy with the weight of the two weeks you’d spent ignoring each other. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer until there was no air left between you.
You didn't remember how long the kiss lasted, or when exactly the fire burned down to glowing embers. You ended up tangled in his arms, your head pillowed on his chest and your legs intertwined with his. Neteyam held you, his chin resting atop your head as his heartbeat drummed a steady rhythm against your ear.
For the first time in weeks, you felt home.
The sanctuary of the hollow became a world of its own. Over the next month, the western cliffs were no longer a place of exile, but a stage for a dangerous yet beautiful routine.
Neteyam visited nearly every night. Sometimes he’d arrive with medical supplies he’d swiped from the stores. Other times, he’d just bring himself, looking haggard and wind-beaten, seeking the only place where he didn't have to lead. You’d skin the day’s kill together, bickering over Mangkwan versus Omatikaya techniques, before collapsing into the small, warm space of your shelter.
"Your father is going to kill you," you joked one evening as he landed his ikran in the shadows. You were leaning against a tree, tossing a small dagger into the air and catching it by the hilt. "The Olo'eyktan's son, missing every sunset. Wonder what he's doing."
Usually, Neteyam would fire back with a snarky remark about your hospitality. But tonight, he didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He walked past you into the hollow, his movements heavy, his ears pinned low against his head.
"Neteyam?" you asked, the playful edge vanishing from your voice. You caught your dagger and tucked it away, following him inside. "What happened? Did the RDA move? Is it the camp?"
He stood by the dying fire, his back to you. The tension in his shoulders was so thick it felt like it might snap the bones. When he finally turned around, his golden eyes were shadowed with a look of pure defeat.
"My father held a council today," he said, his voice a dry rasp. "With the lead warriors. Specifically, with Eytukan’s bloodline allies."
A cold pit started to form in your stomach. "And?"
"He has arranged it," Neteyam finally looked at you, and the sheer agony in his expression made your breath catch. "I’m to be engaged. To the daughter of one of the lead warriors. Someone worthy of the future Olo'eyktan."
The words felt like a physical blow to the chest, harder than any strike you’d ever taken in training. The "we" you had finally started to believe in shattered into a thousand pieces.
Everything was perfect, he was finally happy and content with his life. So why? Why did the world have to take you from him when he finally felt whole. Will he ever recover?
Romantic Troupes ⭐️
Forgetting Your Anniversary (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Cheating Prank Gone Wrong (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Thirst Scenarios 🔥
Arranged Marriage Series (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4 coming soon)
~~~~~~~~~~
Jason Todd
Breeding (Kinktober 2021) 🔥
Thirst Scenarios 🔥
Threesome (Kinktober 2022) 🔥
Angst Drabble ⛈️
Batsis Making Them Uncles ⭐️
Faking Your Death (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Everything was perfect, he was finally happy and content with his life. So why? Why did the world have to take you from him when he finally felt whole. Will he ever recover?
Romantic Troupes ⭐️
Forgetting Your Anniversary (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Cheating Prank Gone Wrong (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Arranged Marriage Series (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4 coming soon)
The One Who Stayed
~~~~~~~~~~
Tim Drake
Batsis Making Them Uncles ⭐️
Faking Your Death (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Everything was perfect, he was finally happy and content with his life. So why? Why did the world have to take you from him when he finally felt whole. Will he ever recover?
Romantic Troupes ⭐️
Forgetting Your Anniversary (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Cheating Prank Gone Wrong (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Arranged Marriage Series (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4 coming soon)
~~~~~~~~~~
Damian Wayne
Batsis Making Them Uncles ⭐️
Faking Your Death (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Everything was perfect, he was finally happy and content with his life. So why? Why did the world have to take you from him when he finally felt whole. Will he ever recover?
Romantic Troupes ⭐️
Forgetting Your Anniversary (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
Cheating Prank Gone Wrong (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
My Sunlight ⭐️
The boys discover the other side of Damian’s beloved girlfriend, now it’s time for the youngest Wayne to fess up on how they met.
Taken to the Grave (Part 1), (Part 2) ⛈️⭐️
After being attacked during a mission Damian loses his memories including those about you. Secrets come out and now you’re unsure of what to do next, but what will come of the secret you’re hiding yourself?
Precious Secret 🔥
Damian doesn’t need speed dating when he has you.
Beloved Runaway ⭐️
A young omega mother and her infant are held up in a bank robbery, little does she know that tonight would be the night that’s she’s reunited with her fated alpha.
Where You Belong ⛈️⭐️
You’re inferiority complex is causing strain in your relationship with Damian but by the time he notices it’s almost to late.
The red string of fate binds you to your soulmate until you meet and reunite your lonely hearts. Sadly you didn’t get the reaction you wanted when you meet Damian, with so much time passed is there anyway for Damian to prove himself before completely losing you?
Arranged Marriage Series (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4 coming soon)
~~~~~~~~~~
Batfam
Tell Me (Neglected Fem! Reader) (Part 1), (Part 2)⛈️⭐️
here are some clark kent stories i’ve read, loved, and reblogged. all the admiration for the writers who share their talent so generously. please be sure to read the warnings on each fic. and if you enjoy them, let the author know by a comment, reblog, or both! ♡
ᝰ.ᐟ key: A- angst I F- fluff I S- smut I C- comfort I HC- hurt/comfort
ꨄ︎ go save the world, i’ll be around I @honeypiehotchner I A + F
You and Clark are childhood best friends, growing up just across the field from one another. When he moves to Metropolis and announces himself as Superman, it causes a rift so large that you aren't sure you'll ever cross it. Until Superman comes home, sick and out of his mind, and only two things can help: sunlight and you.
ꨄ︎ you hide your injuries from him I @staseras I A + F
you’ve been asking your boyfriend to take down a bookshelf for months, but every time he gets to it, something comes up and the world needs your boyfriend. you decide enough is enough, so you decide to do it yourself. it’s going well until you fall and get hurt, and you hide the injuries from him because you don’t want to worry him. he finds out anyway.
ꨄ︎ office gossip I @blank-potato I S
You have a big crush on Superman, and the whole office knows it, especially Clark. When you can't seem to stop thinking about him or talking about him, it has you asking yourself (and the office): Is Superman good in bed?
ꨄ︎ that’s so clark kent I @/blank-potato I F + S
ꨄ︎ clark is jealous of himself? I @glassmermaids I F
ꨄ︎ blister in the sun pt2 I @moonlight-prose I F + A + (in progress)
the daily planet was the home of gods in a city you never thought might see your presence. a newspaper that won awards, that held the hearts and minds of the best and brightest to exist. yet your boss handed over a job that only a reporter from gotham could do.
ꨄ︎ broken down and hungry for your love I @/moonlight-prose I F
a conversation leads to kissing him on his couch until oxygen becomes secondary.
ꨄ︎ everything is meant to be broken I @/moonlight-prose I A + S
there would be no world in which you could live without him. no future where he could exist without you. the both of you were intrinsically tethered. and you found that finding yourself beneath him in his bed was inevitable.
ꨄ︎ stupid glasses I @snooperzz I F
She hadn’t found out the way that he wanted. Not that he ever really had a plan, but he certainly hadn’t meant for it to happen like this.
ꨄ︎ the dint I @imagines-all-day-everyday I F
when clark kent stumbles into a 24 hour vet clinic with his unconscious side-kick, the last thing he expects to find is maybe the only person in metropolis who can handle krypto. It’s an extra bonus that she’s beautiful too.
ꨄ︎ 12 to 12 I @/imagines-all-day-everday I A + F + ~S
clark forces himself to go to a work party with only one purpose - to find you in the crowd. he has no idea if you want to be found or want to avoid him at all costs. the only problem is, neither do you.
ꨄ︎ the mystery of love I @rosesaints I F + S
4 times he showed you he loves you + 1 time he says it
ꨄ︎ knowing clark’s coffee order I @/rosesaints I F
clark's no stranger to doing the grunt work around the daily planet.
ꨄ︎ i’ll crawl home to her I @se7entyrell I F
You and Clark just got married four months ago. That's barely enough time to settle into the house, and your new life. So when you take a pregnancy test in solidarity with your friend, the last thing you're expecting is a positive.
ꨄ︎ put you in a bodybag or in my bed I @bodhiscurls I A + F
clark kent is your mortal enemy; it's been a constant battle between who's going to get front page privileges and clark always manages to top you with superman. when you both get a little too drunk and repressed feelings rush to the surface- surely it can't be real? how could it be real when you wake up naked in his bed, unsure of how you ended up there? when you've accidentally sent the department the doc you made in a rage listing all the reasons you hate clark kent? it can't be real so why does it hurt so much when he calls it quits- when you cry to superman of all people- when everywhere you go reminds you of him?
ꨄ︎ cause i can see you I @myladybelle I F
it’s been a couple months since you started working at the daily planet, and you’re beginning to suspect that your awkward, mild-mannered coworker might be hiding a much bigger secret than his crush on you
ꨄ︎ just a super dog I @idk-imjustanerd I F
Clark is trying to get Krypto acclimated to city life when you unexpectedly knock on his door.
ꨄ︎ enough for you I @teascorner I A + C
Plagued by insecurities, you can't imagine that Clark Kent would ever return your feelings. After weeks of pining, weeks of feeling your heart break more and more, it all comes to a fever pitch. Can you and Clark work it out?
ꨄ︎ purpose I @wwinterwitch I F
you get back from work to find clark preparing a little surprise for you
ꨄ︎ virgin!clark I @audreyownsdiamonds I F
making out with you for the first time
ꨄ︎ bury the lede I @levanswrites I A + F + S
clark kent runs on compassion the way most reporters run on espresso. he is, by all observable metrics, the most principled man you know. so when your hard-won article gets pulled without explanation, the softest man in metropolis is suddenly ready to raise quiet, righteous hell. because when something’s wrong, he never lets it slide—especially when it comes to you.
ꨄ︎ i can see you I @stargazsblog I F
you and clark have been secretly dating for three months. no touching, barley talking at work. so why does it feel like everyone knows?
ꨄ︎ companion I @murdockparker I F
You were an adult, with adult money. You can buy things that bring you joy! Hopefully your boyfriend never finds out about it.
ꨄ︎ theory of goodness pt13 pt14 pt15 I @messylxve I F + HC
ꨄ︎ mornings with you I @writing-for-marvel I F + S
The morning after your first night together, Clark still can’t get enough of you.
ꨄ︎ i never was the good samaritan I @supershit-hits I A + F
a stupid bet between two coworkers with allegedly opposite morals. if all’s fair in love, war, and corporate life, then who’s willing to be kinder for a month?
ꨄ︎ the tantrums and the chilling chats, i promise I @/supershit-hits I A + F + C
clark takes a picture of you and it leads you to spiral. the last thing you want is for him to see you crashing out, but he’s determined to be by your side no matter what.
ꨄ︎ villian!reader pt2 pt3 I @maiamore I S
clark meets another super, who he can fuck the way he really wants to.
ꨄ︎ metahuman-telepathic!reader pt2 I @/maiamore I S
Clark has to enlist the help of his metahuman ex for an interview.
ꨄ︎ please? I @/maiamore I S
Jealous!Clark Kent finds his mutant!telepath ex on a date.
ꨄ︎ girl next door I @/maiamore I S
Clark takes care of his neighbour.
ꨄ︎ manchild! pt2 I @/maiamore I F
Clark saves the life of one of Lex Luthor's lab techs — but doesn't realise what he does cost her everything.
ꨄ︎ the ‘yes’ list I @/maiamore I S
You get to fulfil your 'to-fuck' list with Superman.
ꨄ︎ killshot I @/maiamore I S
Clark Kent scores an interview with Bruce Wayne's infamous sister — you. Except you don't make it easy for him.
ꨄ︎ to good for me I @lomlsatoru I A + F
everytime you remember your life, clark is always there, and now after everything came crashing down, clark thinks he has loved you from the very start.
ꨄ︎ blurb I @daenysx I F
you wash clark's hair and praise him until he turns red
ꨄ︎ all pent up pt2 I @honeybunnyale I A + F + S
Clark has been utterly perfect, smart, kind, cute and witty. But a woman has needs and doubts were starting to lead you to a detrimental decision. A breakup. But this Clark guy shows you that he fucks hard and checks all of your boxes.
ꨄ︎ the way he waits for you I @danitcx I F
You’ve always been shy. Quiet. Invisible, even. But working at the Daily Planet gave you a badge, a desk… and a seat across from Clark Kent. What starts as silent glances and white chocolate donuts turns into a walk, a bar, a moment —where maybe, just maybe, your heart begins to hope he sees you too.
ꨄ︎ sue me I @fatherjohnmistake I A + F + S
after a nasty breakup, you find your name plastered on the front page of the daily planet, courtesy of no other than your ex, clark kent.
ꨄ︎ leftover frosting I @navybrat817 I S
Clark bakes you a cake and has a plan for the leftover frosting
ꨄ︎ undress I @/navybrat817 I ~S
You put on a little show for Clark.
ꨄ︎ 10 things you hate about clark kent I @bitterballad I S
You had just moved to Metropolis from Gotham after quitting the Gotham Gazette. You thought it would be a breeze. But there's 10 things about your coworker that irk you more than you ever thought.
ꨄ︎ just clark I @larkandpen I F
You live in the same building as Clark Kent. You think he’s sweet but awkward, he carries your bags, helps you build things, fixes issues in your apartment. You joke he’s “like a superhero” for doing the chores your ex never did, and he panics and runs off
ꨄ︎ best to you I @sunsburns I F + C
clark loves being superman, though he can be away for hours and sometimes days on end. you tend to miss him more than you admit, and you find comfort in wearing his clothes and... his spare superman suits.
ꨄ︎ baby, it’s just you I @eupheme I S
the suit stays on
ꨄ︎ clark’s super secret I @celestiababie I F
In which Clark Kent has to face the truth if he wants to get a good night's sleep...
ꨄ︎ heartbeat I @maikorian I A
clark adores the little thing about you, now he'll never get to experience them again.
ꨄ︎ superbanned I @arkofangels I S
After one too many, ahem, “incidents,” the Justice Gang slaps Clark Kent with a temporary sex ban. He promises to behave—until one look and a little teasing from you has him breaking every rule he promised to keep.
ꨄ︎ kanas anymore pt3 I @junleb I F + A
you're bruce wayne's date to a gala and clark starts feeling under the weather
ꨄ︎ the one with the broken printer I @heartburriedinvenice I F
the five times in which clark made your head spin and the one time you finally got him back. and it all started with a broken printer.
ꨄ︎ super shy I @fhrlclln I F
in which you’re trying your best to tell him you like him in your own quiet and shy way but clark kent is an oblivious fool when it comes to these things.
ꨄ︎ adrenaline junkie!reader I @appocalipse I F
ꨄ︎ hardly discreet I @hearts4hughes I A + F
ꨄ︎ drabble I @streamsofmoon I F
you'd like to hear clark curse.
ꨄ︎ drabble I @/streasofmoon I F
you meet krypto
ꨄ︎ drabble I @/streamsofmoon I A
you find out clark's secret.
ꨄ︎ drabble I @/streamsofmoon I F + A
a building falls with you beneath it. superman calls out your name despite never having met you.
ꨄ︎ drabble I @laceyfaeryy I S
clark kent is a big titty lover
ꨄ︎ superman and ultraman I @idksmtms I A? + C
ꨄ︎ 4 + 1 I @beentainted I F + S
four times clark kent almost said he loved you, and the one he actually did.
ꨄ︎ front page I @yasministration I F
clark doesn't care about anyone's opinion more than yours, so when you flick over to the crossword puzzle without telling him what you thought of his article, he worries for a minute.
ꨄ︎ a cozy interview I @/yasministration I F
when superman is married to an award winning actress and filmmaker, it's no surprise to see him crashing her interviews, and despite keeping his identity a secret, he doesn't keep his affection for his wife a secret. if anything, he flaunts it.
ꨄ︎ i’ve got a crush on you I @coquettefrancaise I F
oblivious to your coworker, Clark Kent's, obvious feelings towards you, you spiral in self-pity when he brings you flowers and you chalk it up to him being a good friend
ꨄ︎ tolerate clark, ignore superman I @catbayunthestoryteller I F
ꨄ︎ shy!reader I @inkdrinkerworld I F
ꨄ︎ request I @/inkdrinkerworld I F
ꨄ︎ drabble I @corensology I S
clark eating reader out
ꨄ︎ mr. superman for the ladies I @vitoriadior I F
Where you, preschool teacher, get the incredible Superman (aka your boyfriend) to come to your classroom for Jobs and Careers Day.
info : alternate universe where you and peeta both won, and he confesses his feelings for you. luckily you feel the same!
You glance outside your room in the Victors Village, taking in the view of the dull blue sky with clouds covering the sun. Today was a morally grey day for you. Despite winning the Games, you had no family to come back to, nobody to share your riches with. Nobody even bothered to stop by.
That is, until Peeta Mellark was standing outside your door with a basket full of bread in his arms.
You watched him for a few seconds, fathoming that someone was actually at your house.
"Peeta?" You ask, befuddled. "What're you doing here?"
"Just dropping off some fresh loaves," Peeta smiles warmly. "Could I come in?"
"Yeah," you say, a little too fast. You clear your throat and say it once again, "yeah."
Before you know it, Peeta's already gotten you to sit down and has smeared the loaves with butter on a plate, ready to eat.
"Wow," you say, eating a slice of the bread. Still warm, you think to yourself.
Peeta lets out a small chuckle, sitting opposite of you. "I'm glad you like it. I find myself baking a lot after coming back home."
You take a pause from shovelling down the food and look at him.
"How are you? Y'know, after the Games,"
"I think i've just been keeping to myself recently." Peeta says curtly. "The only thing that helps take my mind off of it is, well, you."
"Me?" you say, taken aback yet again. Since when was he so bold? Is there another reason for him coming to your house?
"Yeah," He says, a little flushed. "y/n, I need to tell you somethin-*
"Peeta, do you like me?" You say, suddenly understanding what's going on here.
His eyelids are completely folded back into his eye sockets when you say this, and it causes him to turn insanely red. He lowers his blonde head bashfully, nodding.
Peeta Mellark. The boy with the bread. This guy, whom you've crushed on since the beginning of time was infront of you, a shy, anxious mess.
At first, you just thought he was really cute. Big brown eyes, straight blonde hair, and a smile that could light up the sky. This crush had soon turned into something much, much more once you two had been chosen for the Hunger Games. The glances you'd give each other, the fake dating already in motion, the signs were all there.
You were in love with Peeta Mellark.
"Look, I know it was a long shot, and I don't expect you to accept my feelings just because I said this, but I hope you'll at least consider-" You get up from your seat and cut him off with a kiss which causes him to go completely rigid.
You pull away, licking your lips and relishing in the sight of Peeta completely stunned by this action.
"H-hey.. what was that? At least let me-" Again, rudely interrupted by another smash to his lips.
"You talk too much," You say, caressing the back of his neck. He shudders, not raising his head. You tilt his chin up with your index and thumb, and you make him look you in the eyes.
"Peeta, I like you too," You finally say. This simple sentence makes him resemble a deer caught in headlights.
"Don't joke with me, just saying that because I said it," Peeta says, choking up. "Don't lie to me like that."
"I'm not lying," you say, but then you catch a glimpse of his teary-eyed face.
"Hey," You say softly, cupping his cheek in your hand and using your thumb to rub his cheekbone.
"Hi," He says, sniffling. You smile.
"I do like you. A lot, okay?" You say, giving him a kiss near his eye, where his tears fell. A kiss on his cheek and another on his jaw, making your way down to the nape of his neck. His breath hitches and he lets out a soft gasp, like he wants to set you off.
“Ngh..”
You try your luck and kiss his collarbone, lightly sinking your teeth into the skin before sucking on it. Peeta flinches, but not before letting out a sound so lewd that it tickles your ear and pushes you away.
"I.. I just need a second," he breathes, but you’re already slinking your arms around him, making him yelp. You tilt your head and rest your face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding in your skull.
"You.. really like me?" Peeta asks, looking directly in your eyes now.
"Yes, I do," You say. "Stop asking me the same question."
Peeta gives you a big grin and repositions himself so he can give you a hug. "This.. is probably the best l've felt in a while,"
You hug him back, and then push his chest so he leans back in the chair he's seated in. You take a seat in his lap, and his legs twitch ever so slightly.
"W-what're you doing?" he asks, obviously intrigued by the way you're beginning to inch up his sweater. You trail your fingers up and down his upper body, which makes Peeta jerk up and back down every time you get close to his nipples.
"I'm going to make you feel even better than you did just a moment ago," you say, tracing the outline of his areolas. He lets out the sweetest moan, which makes you want to tease him a bit more.
“hnnghh..”
"Do you like it when I touch you around here?” You say, using your nail to get closer to Peeta's nipples which are already hardening. You glance at the pink circles and back at him, but he's breathing so heavily and he's already covered his face. You smirk, and finally give him what he wants. Using your index and thumb, you pinch his right nipple upwards, which makes his back arch while he literally gasps for air.
"y-y/n, please— haa.. what are you doing?" Peeta sputters through his yelps of pleasure. "that f-feels weird.. I d-don't like it.."
"Really?" you say, giving the pinkish bud a twist and then flattening your finger pad against it.
Peeta's so flushed, squirming under you, and he's pleading with you to stop touching his chest.
What do you do? Obviously, keep playing with his chest.
Peeta's moans are getting noticeably louder as you begin to suck on his left nipple, taking the sensitive bud and swirling it around your tongue before you nibble on it gently, then biting down on it and keeping the tip of your tongue on the very top of his swollen bud.
"A-aagh! y-y/n.. p-please.." Peeta's eyes are getting glassy, and you snap out of your daze of toying with his chest. You suck on his nipple once and release with a pop that has Peeta flinching and jerking upwards. You cup his cheek again and kiss him, slithering in your tongue in while he's struggling to breathe.
"For someone who doesn't like the feeling, you sure make some cute sounds when I play with your chest," You begin to make your way down, pressing against his erection. "look at that, l've barely touched you and you're already hard."
Peeta's now a bright shade of pink as he fumbles with his hands, ultimately shielding his face so you can't see. You smirk, and you yank his dick out, making him groan.
"H-hey.." he begins, but you're already tracing around the base of his dick, letting your nails trail up the tip and back down again. Peeta's moving his hips on his own at this point, and you're wondering if he could cum just like this.
You suddenly grip his cock, causing Peeta to whimper. "Please.. g-go slow," he mutters, knowing you're not going to stop until you have your way with him.
"Of course I'll go slow," you say, kissing his cheek.
You move up and down slowly. Too slow. You keep at this rate until Peeta looks more relaxed, then you suddenly pick up the pace, makin exclaim. "T-too fast.." he's barely getting his words out as you grip tighter and stroke it, pressing on his tip right before-
"I th-think I'm g-gonna— nghh— cum.. slow down!" Peeta shivers, sinking into the nape of your neck and suppressing his moans as he ejaculates messily into your hands.
He's breathing heavily now, finally removing himself from your shoulder, facing you. You lock eyes with him and before he can talk, you begin pumping his dick again, your motions faster than the last time. He looks perplexed for a moment before he pummels his head back into your shoulder.
"I-I just cam- ah.. Stop!." He sputters, trying to remove your hand from his oh-so sensitive cock, but that only causes you to grip tighter and stroke up and down faster. He's shaking now and you can feel it through his ragged moans and high-pitched whining.
"I-I can't take it, y/n, gah.. p-please!" Peeta's sobbing now, trying so hard not to fall onto the bed. "It's way t-too— hic- sensitive."
You steady him, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. “Just once more, hmm?” You whisper directly into his ear, making his back arch. Reluctantly, he nods.
“Good boy." You grin.
You've only been using one hand to stroke him, but you now remove your other hand that has been holding him up and plop him onto the bed to palm his tip.
Peeta's whining and whimpering louder than before, struggling to form words as he pushes his face deep into the foam of the mattress. "N-not the t-tip.. ah— please—“
You grin and lick the spot right below his belly button and you grind your palm into his tip even harder as you stroke ferociously fast. Peeta's eyes look alarmed, like he's never been touched like this.
"W-wait!" He manages to get out. "Stop! s-stop, I feel weird- I think- I think.. haagh—! I'm cumming a-again," He whines into the sheets, desperately trying to hold in his voice.
You kiss him. "Let it out," He shivers, and like before, dives back into the bed's covers.
You press his abdomen once, using your other hand to grind his urethra, and he shoots out another load almost immediately. Amazed by the amount he's let out, you glance up at him.
Peeta's whole face is tear-streaked, the waterworks still going.
"Hey, you okay?" You ask gently, lifting his back up to support his weight as you pull him into a hug. Peeta nods, squeezing back.
"You're so mean," He says, sniffling and wiping away his remaining tears.
You smile before planting another kiss on his head, then his forehead, and then his lips. He pulls away.
"I can't go another round," Peeta says, dead serious. You can't help but laugh.
"Alright," You say, giving him another kiss.
Sin and kpop @the7dreadlysins - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
