Hi

In way too many fandoms and bandoms

[missmanlykink]

every new season of stranger things opens up a new place to fuck steve harrington after he graduated high school.

season 3: scoops ahoy break room

season 4: family video break room

season 5: basement of the wsqk station (and the van)

i love stranger things!

[kassy-djomunson]

[dearwalker]

Sex pollen - Clark Kent x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Description: When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

Tags/warnings: smut, established relationship, clark is sorry, he gets freaky with his powers, consent kink, breaks you and worships you at the same time, begging, praising, hovering (yes hovering👀), so much dirty talk (he’s feral but sweet), overstimulation.

Note: Guess who watched superman today and got a new man to obsess about🙂‍↕️ honestly I don’t even know what took over me when I wrote this but all I can say is go ahead, live your best life and enjoy the sweet filth 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

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You wake up with a loud crash coming from your living room. You jolt upright from your bed as you hear glass shatter, sprinting toward the noise. You curse as your body, only covered by Clark’s giant shirt, gets hit with the crisp midnight air as wind gushed through your apartment like a hurricane just passed by.

A figure stood where your glass door used to be, leaning weakly on what was left of the frame. You turned on the lamp next to you, illuminating your boyfriend’s stumbling body.

“Clark!?” you exclaim, confused by his abrupt arrival.

He doesn’t look up, just stands there against the frame, chest heaving, fists clenched. Like he is barely holding himself together.

Worry washes your features, something must be really wrong. You start making way over to him, but as soon as you take a step forward he puts a warning hand in front of him.

“Stop! Don’t move,” his deep voice comes out strangled, like he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t come closer… please. Just–just stay there.”

He keeps his hand up to stop you, panting heavily as he swallowed to try to soothe his dry throat. He slowly looks up, and groans when he meets your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, dry lips parted, his breath ragged like he’s been flying across the globe. His usually perfect wavy hair is now flat, messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he whines. “I–I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“What happened to you?” You ask from your spot, fighting the urge to run to his aid.

“I’ve been infected,” he chokes out, and your brows furrow more. “Some kind of … alien pollen. It hit me out there. I flew straight into it and fuck ... It’s messing with my head, my body, I…”

He suddenly turns away, pacing in small frantic circles on your balcony like he’s trying to shake something off. His hands tremble as he fights to not make eye contact, like just looking at you hurts.

“What do you need? D-do you have the antidote?” You ask, scared as hell. He never acts like this.

He just shakes his head first with a bitter laugh, only to nod frantically afterwards.

God, if only you knew.

“I tried to wait it out,” he groans, fists now in his hair. “I swear I did, my love, I locked myself away for hours … tried to fly as far as I could but I kept turning back because I could smell you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, somehow understanding what this was about.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Even from across the city … I can hear you breathing … your heartbeat. I didn’t want to hurt you but right now I have you in front of me and I can see–dammit … I’m sorry–“

He stumbles backward like he’s ashamed of himself, like he can’t even look at you.

“You know can’t turn it off,” he whispers. “I never mean to look, I swear, but I can see you now. Everything.”

Of course you know what he means. You know he can see right past his giant shirt covering your body. And the guilt on his face is gutting. He looks like he’s trying to claw his own powers out of his skin.

“Clark… it’s okay. You don’t have to explain, ”you step forward, slowly, gently. “It’s not like we haven’t–“

“No you don’t get it!” He snaps, his voice booming through your walls so loud you were sure everyone on the block heard him. He instantly feels worse with the way you flinched to his volume. “S-sorry darling … you just don’t get it … you have no idea what it’s like to smell you and know how soft you are, how warm. My instincts are going crazy. I just need to be inside you … I need to touch you, mark you, fill you up until I can’t think straight,” he just rambles, eyes raking through your body.

You take a deep breath, his words making you clench your thighs together and he noticed. Of course you’ve had sex before. You know what he sounds like when he’s needy. But this? This is feral. You’ve never seen him like this.

But you’re willing to do anything to help him. Always.

“Clark… you don’t even have to ask,” you speak softly, your own eyes darkening with desire.

He shakes his head. You don’t even understand the amount of restraint he’s having right now.

“I do … I always do. Especially now. Because I’m not going to touch you like I should. I’m not going to make it about you. I’m going to use you. Because you’re the only one who can fix me … you are the antidote and I hate it. I hate that I can’t even think straight unless I’m inside you … I need you so bad, darling, I’m shaking–“ He cries, an actual tear comes out his desperate eyes.

You’re watching a god fall apart in front of you.

Because of you.

You finally cross the space left, and he doesn’t stop you this time. You grab his face between your hands, and kiss him without hesitation. His arms immediately cling to your frame, cold hands slipping under your shirt to roam every inch of your warm skin.

You moan into his lips, when you taste the salty tears on his face. His hands land on your ass, and he squeezes hard, bruising, making you squeal. He immediately pulls back, apologizing. Like he still can’t let himself go.

“I love you, I’m sorry–” he blurts out immediately, hands soothing the skin he pinched while he fought the urge to do it again, harder. “God I love you … and I would never hurt you. Never. I swore I’d never touch you like this. Unless you asked me to. Unless you wanted me to. So please … tell me you want this too. Say yes, or I’ll leave. I swear I will.”

He nods, frantically, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’ll leave if you tell me to,” he breathes. “I’ll fly through a mountain. I’ll bury myself in the ocean. Just don’t say yes unless you want this. I’m barely holding on– if you say it, I won’t be able to stop.”

You want him. God you always want him.

The way he keeps asking makes you want him even more. Even if he’s not your Clark now. Even if he won’t take care of you like he always does. Even if you can’t breathe or move after. Because you love him too.

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, nodding. “I want you. You need me? Use me. Take all you want … I can take it.”

It’s over.

The moment you say yes there’s no going back. He lunges forward, tightening his grip on you as he lifts you off the ground to fly you towards the wall, knocking the lamp when your back hit the wall, leaving you both in complete darkness. Only the moonlight left to shine over his hungry eyes.

His massive hand cradles the back of your head to protect it from the hit, while the other tears off your shirt like he needs your skin on his or he’ll die. Your panties don’t even last two seconds before they fly away too.

His lips hit yours. Tongue desperate, hands everywhere, so large, so shaky, everywhere at once. He groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst finally tasting water.

“Thank you,” he gasps between kisses. “Thank you sweetheart … I’m so sorry I can’t help you first … but I need you … I need to feel you inside, please just let me…”

He knows it hurts you when he doesn’t prepare you properly, when he doesn’t make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he fucks you …but he can’t right now. Not when he can smell how soaked you are already, not when he swears it’s dripping on the carpet.

“Do it,” you pant, hungry for him. “Clark just do it … please.”

He doubts only for a second, and then without thinking he rips the suit. Literally tears it at the waist, tugging it to get rid of it completely. He’ll care about that later.

Right now he is just muscle in front of you.

His painful cock springs up, and he presses himself to you with a wet slap, your back hitting the wall again. Your pussy throbs at how impossibly huge he is over your stomach.

You’ve had him before. You’ve barely made it. You still want him to rearrange your guts.

“Feel that?” he groans. “That’s what you do to me, that’s what’s been driving me insane all day, darling.”

He’s not even pretending anymore, his cock is throbbing, massive, already leaking. He aligns himself between your soaked folds, rutting the tip against your pussy a few times like he’s lost control of his body entirely. You moan at the friction. Every nerve ending screaming.

You know he’s gonna wreck you. You weren’t ready. But at the same time you’ve never been more ready.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it against the wall, before whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry…”

He pushes his hips forward, and when he finally slides home with a snap … raw, hard, you let out a strangled scream.

One long, broken sound, high pitched and helpless, because he stretches you brutally, all at once, bottoming out with a growl. An actual growl. Like he finally felt some type of relief since he got hit with the pollen.

You fight back a cry, lunging forward to bite his shoulder. He starts fucking you into the wall as he whispers ‘I love you’ ‘thank you’ ‘sorry’ like some sort of chant. Like it’s the only thing keeping him rooted to the version of him that is still careful with you when you have sex.

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your bare back against the cold plaster, legs around his waist, and arms clinging to his biceps for dear life. All you can do is moan as you get adjusted to his unfairly thick cock slamming in and out of you.

“Just like that … you’re taking me so well,” he pants. “You can do it, sweetheart … you’re doing so good … fuck, you were made for this … made for me.”

His hands grip your thighs. He fucks you like he’s possessed, no rhythm, no thought into it, just deep, hard thrusts that hit something devastating every time, shaking the wall with every slam of his hips.

And the whole time, he keeps whimpering into your neck.

“I love you … I’m sorry … I love you …I’m gonna ruin you …I need it…”

You think you’re about to white out when the room starts moving, but you quickly realize what’s happening.

He’s lifting your bodies off the ground.

Still fucking you.

Going up as much as your ceiling allowed him too. He pins you high on the wall when his head touches the roof, like gravity doesn’t apply anymore. It never does, not to you, not to him.

So now you’re fucking hovering. Literally. Unable to do anything but take it.

And you feel him like never before. A complete moaning mess. Nails dragging down his back, mouth open in shock as you look down to the floor. Your whole body is a live wire, and he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

His cock twitches inside you. He’s already close. Has been since he walked through that window. But he’s holding it, fighting it, because he needs to stay inside. Needs to keep taking. You can’t.

“Fuck Clark … I’m gonna–“

“Yes? do it … darling please, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you … cum all over this cock baby I got you.”

Your body breaks before you can breathe. Your first climax of the night hits hard, clenching down on him, while you pant into his chest. Your whole body goes limp and he feels it.

He fucks you through it. Rough thrusts with his hand stroking your back and the other wrapped under your thighs. He keeps thanking you as his cock splits you open over and over.

“I wanna give you everything,” he groans, voice cracking. “Fill you up, stuff you full of me … Can I? Please? Let me finish inside you …. let me have you–“

“Yes, yes, fill me up,” you blurt out, still seeing stars.

He slams in once more and chokes, hips locked, whole body shuddering as he comes with a moan so broken it feels like it came from his soul. He shakes as he fills you, mouth pressed to your neck.

He doesn’t pull out yet. He holds you there, trembling, pressed against the wall like he knows you’ll fall if he loosens his grip.

Even after the first wave passes, after the groans, the shaking, the desperate I love you’s, he holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

“…Are you okay?”

You just nod, breathless, a blissed out smile in your face. He smiles too. And then, slowly, he lowers you back down to the floor.

But he’s not soft for long. He doesn’t even give you a minute to recover. He can’t. The second round starts before the first one even finishes sinking in.

You’re still trembling in his arms, leaking down your thighs, whimpering his name into the crook of his neck. And he’s still inside you. Still painfully hard.

Still needing you.

“One more, please. Just–just one more,” he begs. “Let me have you again. Please, darling I need it.”

“Take it Clark, take all you need,” you nod, absolutely wrecked.

But what’s a few more rounds with your unearthly strong boyfriend?

He melts.

You usually go multiple rounds, but he’s softer, he gives you downtime, even brings you water in between orgasms. But right now he can’t believe the way he fucked you and you still let him have more. But he needs more. The pollen is fogging his brain.

He finally pulls out, just to set you down on the floor. The second your back hits the rug, he’s on top of you again. And god he’s heavy. Solid. He doesn’t even hold his weight like he usually does because all he’s thinking about is fucking you senseless.

He buries himself deep again, groaning, cursing under his breath. You close your eyes, nails digging the carpet, back arching when you feel him deeper from this angle. You pant small whines from the feeling.

“Shhh … don’t–“ he coos, he wants to be slow, but he can’t. His hips snap hard without even thinking. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart … so good for me… just need one more.”

You know it’s not just one more. And he fucking knows that too.

None of you cares.

“You’re so wet … so perfect” he groans, the filthy sound gushing loudly every time he thrusted. “I didn’t even give you time to come down … didn’t even let you breathe and you still take me so well”

He praises. Worships. He looks down to where your bodies meet, and he sees right through your skin. He can see his huge cock filling you with every thrust. He can see your walls clenching around him. And he looses it.

You’re suddenly running out of air when he presses his chest to yours, pining you tighter to the floor with his body as he pushes harder. And you feel all of him. The broadness of his chest against your ribs. The strain of his thighs bracketing yours. His cock still buried deep, rock hard.

You hit his bicep with your hand first, but he’s not paying attention, he’s too caught up on the way your pussy takes him to notice.

It’s not smooth. Not rhythmic. Just sharp, ragged thrusts that hit you so hard your body jerks on impact, tits bouncing, nails clawing at his back as he crushes you into the floor with every rut of his hips.

Your head starts spinning.

“Clark,” you choke out, hitting his bicep again. “I can’t–can’t breathe…”

His head finally snaps at you, eyes going wide. He lifts up a bit, but he doesn’t pull out, he just … can’t.

You finally gasp for air as he shushes you softly, tucking away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry … I can’t … can’t stop. I tried, I swear I tried,” his forehead presses to yours, without crushing you alive this time.

His hips don’t stop moving. You pant between moans. You’re close again, you can feel it.

“It’s okay, you’re just … you’re so big …so heavy.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I know. I just … I don’t want to let you go–”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t let me go.”

His expression breaks. Because he knows. And you know. He’s not really letting you go. Not all the way. He’s still pressing his weight into you, even as he tries not to. Because he needs to. Because letting go means losing you, even just for a second.

He doesn’t know what takes over him, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Watching you sob, moan, eyes rolling back, skin already bruising in multiple places by his grip. He’s not like this. He should be apologizing. Begging. But you just feel so damn good.

And you like it, god you love it.

“I–I love it when you fuck me like this,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper, dumb smile on your face as he hits that spot repeatedly. “I just- I can’t…”

“I know darling, I know … just a little more,” he groans. “One more please. You can take it …you’re doing so good.” He soothes, but he can’t slow down, not when you’re clenching him like that.

He picks up the pace.

“C-Clark … please, I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, darling …I’ve got you, let yourself go for me.”

You see white this time. You’re not even moaning anymore. Just gasping. Twitching. Letting him take what he needs because you want to. Because this is Clark, your Clark, and you’d give him your whole body a thousand times if he needed it.

And he does.

He fucks you like you’re his last breath.

Even after you’re wrecked, limp, twitching … he keeps going.

You don’t even remember the next time he finishes. Or the time after that. Or where it happened. Your body is a mess, trembling and raw and wet and full. Marked. Praised.

All while he keeps saying, “Just one more … just let me stay inside you a little longer… please sweetheart, I’m still hard I know you can take it … this is the last time I promise…”

Again and again. You’ve never heard him lie so much before.

Yet still, with your hair splayed, legs shaking, literal tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, the pain, the strain, the goddamn pollen he pumps into your body every time he comes…

You are having the time of your life being drunk on his cock.

“Fuck me harder.”

You beg, even when you can’t feel it anymore. Maybe that’s why you need it harder … deeper.

And because you knew that once he came back to normal he wouldn’t fuck you like this again. And he makes sure to let you know.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I just need you so fucking much … I love you I love you I love you—”

You just nod, because it hurts embarrassingly good.

You lose count of how many times he comes in total. How many times you come. You only know time’s passed when the sky starts to lighten outside your broken window, and Clark is rocking into you so slowly it’s more like he’s just holding you in place, his mouth pressed to your shoulder, whispering thank you with every lazy thrust.

By the time he finally slows down, finally wears the substance out of his body after dumping it all inside you … you can’t move. You’re limp in his arms, boneless and dripping and his.

Your bed feels incredibly soft in contrast to all the spots he fucked you on last night.

You’re draped across his chest, tracing the muscles under his bare skin. His fingers are in your hair. Barely moving, just tracing small patterns. Soothing you like he didn’t cause all the pain in your body.

You’re still trembling a little. Just from… after. Your body’s still echoing with everything he gave you. Everything he took.

Worth it.

Clark kisses your temple. He hasn’t stopped kissing you every few minutes. It’s like he’s trying to apologize without saying it. Like he’s trying to prove that he’s still the man you love, the man who flinches when he bumps your head by accident, who picks you flowers and gets flustered when you kiss him in public. The one who always put you first in bed.

Not the one who just broke the sound barrier flying to your apartment because his cock told him to.

“…I broke your window,” he finally breaks the silence, a chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your ear.

“Clark … you broke a lot more than my window.”

You both start giggling … glowing. Your throat hurts, you’re sore, probably can’t even walk today or the whole week, and somehow, it feels like the safest place on Earth.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “You said it like 87 times while destroying me.”

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

I created a blog dedicated to Superman, where I’ll be posting my writing for him from now on 🫶🏼 so if you wanna check it out, go to -> @404superman

Feedback and sharing is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[nymphethotline]

country roads, take me home

pairing – clark kent x reader

summary – you’re visiting clark’s hometown of smallville, and the blue collar on him riles you up more than you ever imagined.

word count –1.4k

content – 18+ mdni, fem!reader, shy!reader, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, slight breeding, squirting, multiple orgasms, swearing (clark how dare you!), pet names 

author’s note – hi guys! this is my first time ever posting here on tumblr, so if the layout looks a little wonky forgive me! please leave comments on missing tags and feedback on what i can improve :)  also i’m not entirely familiar with the dc canon so if clark seems ooc i apologize ! please enjoy my feral writing

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“You need help over there, farmer boy?” 

The slight edge of your palm rests on your forehead as a means to shield yourself from the blinding sunlight, as you peer out to the field and watch Clark tossing around hay bales in the distance.

He gives a dry chuckle, the grin creeping up his face as he pushes back one of his dangling black curls out of his face. “I think I’m good here, city girl.” 

With all the hustle and bustle that comes with living in Metropolis, both you and Clark needed to seek a bit of peace. Too many all nighters at the Daily Planet, way too many cups of coffee gulped down that left you with jitters and a fluttering heartbeat. And while the metahuman you shared a bed with only needed a few sunrays – give or take –  to feel refreshed, you weren’t cut from the same cloth. Typing away and staring at a blue light for at least eight hours per day left you feeling run down. 

Clark noticed your change of pace. He could hear the blood pumping through your veins harder than before, a telltale sign to him that you were under serious stress. Being the sweetheart he is, he reached out to Ma and Pa to schedule a comfy getaway for the two of you. And while it wasn’t the tropical retreat or the snowy Alps that most other people would look forward to, it was still a place where you wouldn’t have to lift a finger and still be treated like family.

And so you’re here: currently sitting on the veranda sipping on sweet tea that Ma Kent made fresh that morning before heading on the road with Pa, watching the burly Kryptonian get his hands dirty being a farmhand. You’ve seen him stumbling around in his dorky glasses, watched him zip around the skyline in armor, but you’ve never seen him like this. The way his forearm muscles tense, creating a tight squeeze from his rolled up flannel sleeves. The midwestern heat having no effect on him whatsoever isn’t unknown to you, but it still amazes you. 

“See something you like?” Clark teases as he puts his hand to his hip. But how could you put into words that seeing him like that lit a fire inside of you that you didn’t even know was capable of burning? 

Even though you couldn’t vocalize it, your body had no problem screaming it out. Blood rushes to your face, then heat pricks all over your body, leaving an itch only he could scratch. He brushes his hands off on his denim as he walks over to you. “What’s on your mind, pretty lady?”

You stand up from the wicker chair, coming face to face with his solid chest. “Nothing… just thinking.” you say sheepishly, playing with one of the open buttons of his flannel. 

“Oh yeah?” he smirks smugly, now aware of the impact his look has on you, he plays into it. “Thinking about what, sweetheart?” 

Even after all you’ve experienced with him, you still clam up when he asks you for dirty talk. “Just…” you swallow, “things.” 

He dips down so that his lips ghost over your ear, “Getting shy on me, dolly?” The timbre in his voice cause your skin to erupt in goosebumps, shuddering at the way his words have you so wobbly in the knees. His plush lips leave little pecks on the shell of your ear, making their way down your neck and laying on that one spot that’s bound to make you squeak. You feel the corner of his lips pull upward as he grins at the sounds he elicits from you. 

“You’re such a sweet little thing, can’t even bring yourself to tell me what you want,” he leaves one last smack against your nape before hoisting your legs around him, “but I know what you need.”

He bolsters you inside as he walks you towards the bed, lips hungrily pushing and pulling against yours. He tosses you onto the sheets, gentle enough but with the same effort he had when moving the hay about. He litters kisses all the way from your neck to your belly, humming contently as he does so. 

“Hm, my gorgeous girl. You’re so needy for me but you’re acting all coy now, huh?” 

“Clark..” A broken moan escapes your lips, laced with both pleasure and chagrin from his endless teasing.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You know I’ll always take care of you.” his fingers loop under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down painstakingly slow. He sucks in a breath once they’re finally down. “Good lord, you’re gorgeous. Always so wet just for me.” He drags his finger lazily across your hole before rubbing the slick between his fingers, popping one in his mouth. “Y’taste divine.” 

He delves his tongue flat on your slit, flicking it around in figure 8s. “Oh, fuck! C-Clark!” You couldn’t hold back your whines any longer, he was eating you like a man starved. You grab a fistful of his hair, needing to hold onto something before the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you had you running away from it. “Fuck, baby, pull as hard as you need to.” He hummed in between your thighs. He continued to lick you in languid strokes, slurping and lip popping filled the sultry air in the room. Whimpers and broken sobs exit your jaw, then becoming more powerful as he added a finger inside of you, then another once you were ready. “That’s it, baby.” he drawls before his tongue returns to action. His digits make a ‘come hither’ motion, the pads of each one clinging to that one spot that makes your body blaze. “Holy fuc- I’m g-gonna cum!” you couldn’t hold back any longer, his touch had you unraveling. “Cum for me, baby. Be my good girl.” That was all it took before you were gushing all over his hand, his groans helping you ride your high for a little while longer. 

He kisses the inside of your thigh once more before making his way back up to your face, landing a lustful kiss on your lips. “You taste yourself on me? Fucking delicious.” You’re still giggly and panting before he asks, “Think you got one more in you, sweet girl?” To which you nod your head violently, almost sure that your neck would snap.

He unzips his Wranglers and pulls down his briefs in one go, exposing his heavy cock. God, you don’t know how he walks around with that thing. He gives it a few quick tugs before aligning it with your messy cunt, driving it in steadily as he lets out a gratified sigh. “S-shit, you feel so good. Every time.” He takes his time before picking up speed, pounding into you as his tip hit that spongy area oh-so-right. You’re right back into calling out his name, he leans into you and presses his chest against yours. Your fingernails drag down his sculpted back, nothing that yellow sun can’t fix. “You’re so beautiful like this, taking all of me. You like it when I have you like this? Yeah?” 

Words refuse to form in your brain, the only affirmative you can give are your high pitched, breathy cries. The slapping of skin connection echoed off the walls, hypnotic and driving you mad. Clark pushes your thigh up to reach you at a new angle, one that had you coming undone once more. You wailed, but no sound came out. “I know, baby, I know.” Removing one hand from your waist and placing it on your cheek, he comforted you through your orgasm as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. 

Before you could even process what was happening, the pressure building up behind the dam finally released, as you gushed all over his cock. “Oh, fuck!” he howled, quickening his thrusts until hot spurts of his seed filled you up. He humped mindlessly as he rode through his climax, before finally stilling inside you. 

His body weight plops atop of you, both of you catching your breaths until he eventually pulls out of you. You sigh and tremble at the emptiness as he lay on his back. 

Still dazed, he probes you for an answer.

“Got a thing for country boys, huh?”

[my-heart-of-heart]

Guys do you think she’s excited

[rylandsgrace]

#What is their issue????

[ladyshinga]

OceanGate tried to scrub the internet clean of traces that it ever existed, taking down its Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn pages

OceanGate, the deep-sea exploration company that created the Titan submersible, has removed its Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn a

poor things, well we should definitely make this easier on them by never repeatedly mentioning their name and deeds on the "reblog things forever" website

[septicake]

yea that'd be a shame

by the way, just so everyone knows what not to do, shift+r reblogs a post instantly

just make sure you don't reblog anything about oceangate because that would completely undermine their entire plan 😇😇😇

[curoopeez]

You also shouldn't queue a post, that would make people keep remembering this post for a longer time, which is the opposite of forgetting

[tabboty]

depression creature

[amphibizzy]

[authenticstains]

[sexwitsockson]

[buckygasm]

This is killing me

[bubbarnes]

“... I already talked to him and it went poorly.”

[mo-mode]

GUYS I FIGURED IT OUT

Clint in the vents and that’s his whole personality because he wasn’t fleshed out in the movies → Ava in the walls and that’s her whole personality because she wasn’t fleshed out in the movies

Thor eating poptarts and overusing proper words because English isn’t his first language and he’s the comedic relief → Alexei eating Wheaties and overusing proper words because English isn’t his first language and he’s the comedic relief

Natasha pranking and laughing at everyone from the sidelines because fanon decided she’s just silly like that → Yelena pranking and laughing at everyone from the sidelines because canon decided she’s just silly like that

Bruce being a sweet, soft-spoken, unassuming guy but also the most fucking unhinged monstrosity if you catch him on a bad day → Bob being a sweet, soft-spoken, unassuming guy but also the most fucking unhinged monstrosity if you catch him on a sad day

Steve being handed the de facto title of goody two shoes leader despite being the LAST person on board with this → Bucky being handed the de facto title of goody two shoes leader despite being the last person on board with this

Tony being a big-mouthed asshole that’s secretly haunted by his past mistakes which involved publicly supporting the US military via PR stunts as a weapons manufacturer → John being a big-mouthed asshole that’s secretly haunted by his past mistakes which involved publicly supporting the US military via PR stunts as a weapon himself

[strwbrrs-r-nice]

i want 50 avengers tower fanfics of the thunderbolts on my desk by morning do you hear me

[snoopysupe]

tower fics are so back baby

[kawaiiwitchy]

Him 💕

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

here's an idea: a Bucky smut fic where reader is usually pretty quiet in bed and he takes it as a personal challenge. (Like somehow holds your jaw open while pounding so that you can hold any noise in and over the next two round he can hear every noise you make)

Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it!

This is pretty much pure smut, the reader is described as female briefly. It does end fluffy though <3

Bucky wasn’t used to silence. Not during this, at least.

You were everything he could want, soft where he needed, sharp where it counted, and warm all over. But when it came to the bedroom, you were quiet. Not cold or withdrawn you kissed him back like you were starving, pulled him close like you’d never wanted to be separated again but your sounds were small. Barely there gasps, shaky breaths, the occasional hum that ghosted past his ear.

“You really think I don’t notice?” His voice was low, just barely brushing your ear. His breath was warm, his body already pressing you down into the mattress like he owned you. You swallowed. “Notice what?” Bucky dragged his metal hand up your thigh, parting you so easily with a casual possessiveness that made your breath hitch. “How quiet you are, baby. Damn near silent when I’m deep inside you.” You shifted, already wet from his voice alone. “I… I don’t mean to.”

“Oh, I know.” He kissed your throat, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. “Know you’re not doing it on purpose. But now I need to know what you sound like when you can’t keep it in.” You blinked up at him. “I’m gonna ruin that silence tonight.” His eyes darkened. “And you’re gonna thank me for it.”

You’re already trembling, soft gasps escaping as he lays you back on the sheets. His palm ghosts over your jaw, you flinch just the tiniest bit. Not in fear. In anticipation. Like you know he’s going to push. He leans in, voice low, dangerous. “Open.”

When your lips part for him, he almost groans. Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me.

Two fingers slide between your lips, not deep, just enough to make you vulnerable. Exposed. Make you his. Now there was no way you could bite it back. Can’t muffle any sounds. Can’t shut him out. His breathing hitched as he took in the sight under him. You look up at him with wide eyes, already flushed, already wrecked before he’s even moved. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he murmurs, lining himself up. “Can’t wait to hear every noise you’ve been hiding.”

And when he thrusts into you; hard and deep your eyes roll back, mouth falls open wider around his fingers, and finally…

There. That moan. That sharp, perfect crack in the silence. He watches as you fall apart in real-time. Watches you try to fight it and fail. “Yeah, baby,” he growls, thrusting harder. “That’s it. Give it to me. Let me fuckin’ hear you.” Every noise you make is his reward. Every gasp, every whimper, every choked little sob it’s better than he ever imagined. He wants to pull them out of her like thread, unraveling her one noise at a time.

You cried out, the sound catching in your throat as your body arched beneath him. But you couldn’t bite your lip. Couldn’t bury your face. Couldn’t stay silent. Not like this. Not with him keeping your mouth open like a prize. “That’s it,” he growled, hips slamming into you again. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you let go.” You whimpered a high, breathy noise you didn’t even recognize as your own. “That’s my girl,” he purred, rhythm ruthless. “Let me hear that sweet voice. You’ve been hiding it from me for so long.”

Each thrust dragged a different sound from you, shaky moans, breathless gasps, one broken little sob that made his eyes flash with pure hunger.

“Think you can stay quiet with me? When I’m this deep in your tight little pussy?” he taunted, mouth against your cheek now. “I don’t think so.”

You came with a cry that echoed in the room, your voice breaks, it’s raw and breathy, your whole body tightening around him. There was no way to stifle it, no way to mask it. And he smiled as he felt you clench around him, your thighs shaking, mouth still held wide by his fingers. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop now that he had you where he’s been dying to have you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he flipped you over, chest pressed down to the sheets, ass in the air. “Still got more in you?” he asked, cock dragging along your sensitive folds. You shivered. “Y-Yeah--”

“That’s what I thought.” He slid back in slower, then set a bruising pace, pulling your hips back to meet every thrust. You tried to hold in the whimpers, but they spilled out anyway. Bucky reached around to grip your jaw again not roughly, just firm, thumb dragging your bottom lip down. “No hiding,” he purred the reminder in your ear. “Not tonight. Not with me.” You came again, louder this time. Raw. Honest.

You were trembling in his arms, body limp from overstimulation, lips red from how much sound he’d pulled from you. He held you close now soft strokes between your thighs, kisses on your temple. But when you whined softly in his lap, trying to catch your breath, he chuckled darkly. “Still think you can stay quiet, doll?” You shook your head weakly. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

Your throat was raw. Your body hums with the kind of satisfaction that feels bone-deep; it feels heavy, spent, and warm in a way that leaves you wordless. For once, your silence has nothing to do with shame. You’re quiet because he took everything from you, and you gave it willingly. Now, you’re wrapped in his arms, both of you still slick with sweat and breathless, your head tucked under his chin. His metal arm curls securely around your waist while the warmth of his flesh hand traces lazy circles over your back, grounding you, keeping you here. 

“You okay?” Bucky murmurs, voice rough with effort and something softer…concern? Affection?

You nod into his chest. “More than okay.” He kisses your forehead. “Didn’t push too hard?” You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No. You…It was amazing.” His gaze softens immediately, like hearing that gives him permission to relax. His thumb brushes your cheek. “You sounded so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” he says, voice almost reverent. “Didn’t realize how much I needed to hear you.” 

You smile, a little shy again. “You make it easy. To just let go.” His brows pull slightly. “I never want you to think you have to stay quiet for me. I want all of it. Every sound, every word… even the messy ones.” You laugh softly, and he smiles at the sound like it’s his new favorite thing. “I didn’t think you’d care so much,” you admit. Bucky’s hand tilts your chin until you’re looking right at him. “I care about everything when it comes to you. Even the stuff you don’t say out loud.”

You kiss him, slow and thankful. And when he wraps you tighter against him, tucking the blanket around your legs, you let yourself melt into that feeling of safety, of softness, of being so utterly heard. Maybe tomorrow he’ll tease you for the sounds you made. Maybe he’ll chase them again. But right now?

He just holds you.  And for once, your silence means peace. Not hiding.

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

[tenmastrousers]

HAPPY PRIDE 2025 <3