am i the only one who lowkey hates when people post tumblr fics on tiktok because then everyone is giving their unsolicited opinion on fanart.
i just saw a tiktok that was like “me after reading the worse fic that everyone over hypes” and it’s so fucking weird because fanfiction is inherently self indulgent if you want to read something you consider a “masterpiece” then write it yourself but sending hate towards to a stranger that WRITES shit for FREE on the internet will always be weird.
then when people delete their blogs everyone’s so shocked …
you screenshotted a fic posted it on the most POPULAR app in the world and then is surprised when the writer gets upset and leaves
stop harassing writers this is legit the same thing that happened on wattpad!
i hate to sound like a gatekeeper but fandom being exposed to normies is one of the worst things that have happened. not saying people can’t join a fandom but it’s opened the door for people who feel comfortable making fun of others for their interest’s!
if you could write something about matt murdock with
"My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do."
and/or
"Shh... just a little bit more."
i would eat that up :))
a/n: thank you, darling. i rarely get requests for matt, but it always lights up my life when i do
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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“I–, u-uh…” you foggily blinked down at Matt’s head nestled betwixt your legs, “was that an actual question?” the tremble to your tone caused his grin to widen as he teasingly let the very tip of his nose ghost against the apex of your inner thigh, “I’ve never tried that before, you know having someone do that,” you timidly coughed, “but I mean, I do have a very vivid imagination, so I probably–, oh my god!”
Your babbling was then cut off as Matt finally closed the last bit of distance, a groan slipping from his lungs as he let his tongue run through your glistening folds for the very first time.
“Matthew!” your squiggly legs tried to tremble shut around his solid skull, “t-that’s–, oh fuck,” your body quivered as he slithered his burly arms up your frame, hooking your legs before he flipped them back open like a heart-racing page in a book he wasn’t quite done reading yet.
“Shh,” his deep voice vibrated against your puffy clit, “just a little bit more…” as he greedily kept up his efforts even as you squirmed from the overwhelming sensation, “just one more taste and then I’ll fuck you,” you cast your gaze down past where his broad palms laid splayed across your abdomen, to where his lips, glossy from your want, barely lifted to make his murmur coherent, “promise…”
tw: afab reader, p links, rough sex, dp, threesomes, oral (fem and male receiving), size kink, anal, breeding, toys, monsterfucking(?), general horniness
! rivals women p links here !
make sure you're logged in to twitter/x to view the links!
ADAM WARLOCK
↪ adam loooooves taking it slow, not even bothering to slip you out of your panties, rubbing himself against your puffy clit. your slick heavily coats his tip, and he indulges you by putting just a little bit of his dick in shallow stokes before pulling out, just to do it all over again.
BLACK PANTHER
↪ it’s like a symphony in t’challa’s ears – the rhythmic clapping of your ass alongside your deliciously sweet moans. the man owns an intergalactic empire, and yet his favorite place ever is right under your body where he can plunge deep into your cute holes while holding you tight.
BLADE
↪ when you feel like taking charge, eric just lays back and enjoys the view. your confident smirk hovering over his face while you set your own pace – slow and deep, just like he likes it. it’s even better when you reach a hand down to help your pussy out in stroking his fat dick.
BRUCE BANNER
↪ bruce is the definition of a munch. this man will press your legs against your stomach and bury his face in your pussy without you uttering so much as a word. lapping at your leaking hole, drooling on your sensitive clit, there’s no doubt he’s in this for the love of the game.
CAPTAIN AMERICA
↪ steve’s entire body underwent a massive upgrade thanks to the super soldier serum, and his dick was no exception. it’s so hard for him to get past the tip inside you despite how badly he wants it :( next time you better slobber over it some more before trying to take on his monster.
CLOAK (+ BONUS DAGGER)
↪ you can’t have tyrone without tandy, whether anyone would want to or not, so why not make the most out of it? you and tandy take turns on his cock, helping each other take as much as you can, the sight of both your faces enough to help him release a thick, gooey load into your mouth.
DAREDEVIL
↪ patroling the streets is hard work, please let matt use your body to take out his frustration! it’s hard enough dealing with the evil in hell’s kitchen, he just wants to have some semblance of control. let him drive his cock deep into you and fuck you stupid so he can feel like he’s doing something right.
DOCTOR STRANGE
↪ stephen still knows how to use his fingers juuuust right when it comes to bringing you pleasure. two digits are all he needs to stretch you out, readying you for his thick aching dick. he uses his magic to create a makeshift cockring that is snug enough to swell his already large member that stuffs you full.
GAMBIT
↪ remy is a kinky motherfucker – sex is always something new with him. recently, he discovered just how much you moan and babble nonsense when he charges a bit of kinetic energy into his cock and drives it into your puckered asshole. a few thrusts in and you’re already begging him to let you cum.
HAWKEYE
↪ as much as he loves the act itself, clint gets a special kind of pleasure right after sex, when he pulls his dick out and finds his cum leaking out of you. he helps you clean up your messy pussy by pushing the mess running down your ass back up to your clit, giving it another little rub with his tip.
HUMAN TORCH
↪ even with all his experience, johnny still finds himself learning about what women like. ever since he found out how quickly you cum when he kisses you during missionary, it’s become like an addiction for him to lean down and make out with you while he drives his cock in and out of your sweet cunt.
IRON FIST
↪ lin is always so eager to do anything with you. sit on his face, rub him with your thighs, take his energetic thursts like a good girl and he’ll make you see stars. it’s not his fault you’re so soft and that your walls squeeze so tight around him every time that he always thinks he’lll cum too fast :(
IRON MAN
↪ only you knew how nasty tony could be. he’d already cum a couple of times, stuffing you full of his thick loads and soiling the sheets. the sight of your cunt taking him completely from behind, cum leaking and lube shining only makes him thrust harder and deeper to see how much bigger of a mess he could make.
LOKI
↪ what good are loki’s clones if he doesn’t use them on his pretty girl? it may take a lot of work to prep you every time to make sure you can take him in your ass and your pussy, sure, but it’s worth it when you moan like a pornstar every time he “accidentally” stuffs two dicks in one hole.
MAGNETO
↪ erik has some tolerance for your bratty behavior, but it sometimes gets to a point where he needs to shut you up the best way he can: using his large size to get on top of you and fuck your body into submission, just rough enough for you to stop your whining and start begging him to cum inside you.
MISTER FANTASTIC
↪ reed is one of the smartest men alive, and he uses this feat to analyze your reactions whenever he fucks you. he memorized the exact spot deep inside you that makes you moan the loudest and let out the most obscenities, focusing that one spot to drill into and overstimulate you.
MOON KNIGHT
↪ marc gets too into his head sometimes, often resulting in him muttering sweet praises in your ear while he continuously digs his cock deep into your cunt, far after you have already come twice. he doesn’t notice your fucked-out face or the fact that you’ve stopped responding coherently to his mumbling until after he’s buried a load inside you.
NAMOR
↪ namor is used to the royalty treatment as the king of the seas, and his authority extends to his favorite plaything: you. guiding your head down on his cock and stroking it against your cheek, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to remind you of your place and making sure you understand he owns you.
SPIDER-MAN
↪ peter may be too shy to admit it, but his favorite way to cum is after you’ve teased him to hell and back, stroking his cock and praising him for being such a gooood boy. he gets too loud, so be sure to put a hand on his mouth or stick your tongue down his throat to quiet his needy moans while his cum spurts out, tainting your hands.
STAR-LORD
↪ peter fucks you on the pilot seat of the guardians’ ship every time you ask him to. with the way you’re dripping at the thought of possibly getting caught and the quiet, shallow moans you let out as he moves your body up and down on his cock until you cum multiple times, how could he say no?
THE PUNISHER
↪ frank makes love to you in all kinds of different positions, but he always has his thick hands on you. he needs to feel you, to get as close as possible to you during this most vulnerable act to show you what he cannot always do with words: that he fucking loves you and the tight squeezing of your pussy as you milk him dry.
THE THING
↪ ben is HUGE. there’s no way to sugarcoat it, but the already large hunk of a man was only made larger after his transformation. thanks to reed and a specialized condom he designed for your pleasure, you and ben have been at it like horny teenagers every chance you get, making sure all you can think about is your lover’s thick cock splitting you open.
THOR
↪ size queens beware! thor has such a big, heavy cock that you can’t help but put it in your moth first thing when he takes it out his pants. his godliness shows in the way it hangs due to its own weight, like a trophy on display. don’t forget to play with his balls, hot and heavy, prepping the god-sized loads to come.
ULTRON
↪ ultron’s dislike of humanity comes through when he’s playing with you. he’s mean; he uses toys on you before he even thinks about letting you fuck him. hours go by with the vibrations on your clit pushing you to the edge of ecstasy until he takes the toy away completely, reveling in the way your tears flow down your face as you beg him to let you cum.
VENOM
↪ eddie tries his best to be gentle with you, but it’s so hard when he’s got you pinned down, balls deep in your warm holes. despite your incessant cries of pleasure, all he can hear in his head is the voice of a certain alien demanding him to breed her, breed her, breed her. we are insatiable.
WINTER SOLDIER
↪ bucky has been through so much that you take it upon yourself to take care of him. you eagerly do all the work, rhythmically fucking back into his dick with enough force to send ripples through the skin of your ass. he thinks you’re spoiling him with the way you focus on his pleasure first.
WOLVERINE
↪ when logan puts his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. that includes when he sets his mind to your pussy and demands you drop everything to sit on his face that instant. you leak your juices all over his jaw and hands as he alternates between prodding his tongue into your hole or curling his fingers into your soft spot.
a/n:
yeahhh I'm a huge pervert <3 i've been a fan of marvel in general for forever but there's something about the rivals' versions of these characters that make me feral
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2.5k
Genre: filth, explicit but not smut
Warnings: Explicit (MDNI), slight praise kink, handjob kinda, teasing, tying a bow on it, lmk if theres anything else
Summary: Tying a bow on Bucky's pretty dick
Based on this post by @littlenerdybee
Not beta read and written at 2AM while I'm sick so if its ass, thats why :D
There are very few requests of yours that Bucky could deny. He lets you steal his hoodies, lets you shove your cold feet under his thigh on the couch, lets you climb into his lap like he’s furniture, mumbling something about “personal space” that he immediately forgets as soon as you tuck your face into his neck. He’s soft for you in ways that even he doesn’t understand, which is how he gets himself into situations like this one: lip drawn between his teeth as he spreads out on the bed for you, fully bare, dick angry and leaking as you rummage through one of your drawers.
"I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this shit.” He mumbles, but his voice is already trembling slightly, giving himself away. He props himself up on his elbows just to watch you—shoulders tense, jaw working like he’s trying not to whine at the sight of you digging around.
You glance back over your shoulder, all faux sweetness. “Oh come on, you love my ideas.”
His throat bobs. “I don’t,” he tries, uselessly. “I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t be—”
“You shouldn’t be what?” you interrupt, pulling out the small roll of pink ribbon like a magician revealing a rabbit. His whole body jolts. “Spit it out.”
“Letting you…” His eyes flick between the ribbon and your face. “…do whatever that is.”
You saunter over to the bed, deliberately slow, the sway of your hips mesmerizing. He follows every movement like it’s instinct—like you’re gravity and he’s helpless orbiting around you.
You set the ribbon on the bed beside his hip. “Funny,” you murmur, climbing onto the mattress and settling between his thighs, “because you aren’t stopping me.”
He groans—soft, frustrated, and wrecked. His hands flex like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed. “Baby…”
“You’re gonna look so pretty.” You say with a smile bordering on evil as you lift the ribbon, letting it trail lightly over the inside of his thigh.
Bucky's entire body shudders helplessly, his metal hand fisting in the sheets, the other hovering awkwardly in the air like he’s forgotten what to do with it. “Sweetheart,” he tries to warn, though it comes out breathless and needy.
You press a kiss to his knee, slow and maddeningly gentle. “Relax,” you coo, dragging the satin up, up, up until it brushes the base of his cock. He inhales sharply, hips twitching like he’s fighting every instinct wired into that super-soldier body. “You’re doing so good for me.”
Bucky’s head falls back against the pillow, a low noise leaving him at the praise. You bring the ribbon back to his cock, looping it loosely around the base just to measure. He’s already leaking again.
“You know,” you muse, pretending to examine the length of ribbon like this is scientific. “When I bought this, the lady at the craft store asked what I needed it for.”
His eyes snap open. “You didn’t.”
“Mmhmm.” You drag the satin up his shaft, slow enough to make his thighs tremble. “Told her I needed something strong. Something that could handle a lot of tension.”
“Baby,” he groans, mortified and impossibly turned on. “Please don’t—”
“I told her,” you interrupt sweetly. “It was for my boyfriend.”
His breath stutters, chest rising too fast. “I— you— fuck.”
You lean in, nose brushing the inside of his knee again. “And she said, ‘he must be very special.’”
Your fingers glide up his cock again, gentle, teasing, not nearly enough.
“And I told her,” you whisper, eyes locking with his as his hips lift off the bed, “she had no idea.”
You let those words settle—let them melt into him—watching the way they make his breath falter and his hips jerk like he can’t decide whether to grind up into your hand or hide from the way you look at him.
He’s trembling now as you slide your hand back down his thigh, slow and possessive, until your palm cups just beneath his cock, lifting him slightly. He gasps—sharp, helpless.
“Hold still,” you murmur, bringing the ribbon back up. “I need to make sure it fits perfectly.”
“Fits?” he echoes, voice cracking in the middle like he hates how ruined he sounds.
“Mhm.” You loop the ribbon again, this time higher, right under the flushed, swollen head of him. His entire body arches, a strangled sound ripping from his throat. “Can’t have it sliding off your pretty cock when you start begging.”
His eyes fly open, pupils blown, face burning. “I don’t— I don’t beg.”
You give him the slowest, most devastating smile.
“Bucky,” you say softly, “you’ve never not begged for me.”
His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again—no sound coming out, just another shaky inhale like he’s drowning on air.
You tighten the ribbon just a little—just enough that he feels the shape of it, the idea of it—and his hips buck helplessly.
He swallows hard. Too hard. “Oh fuck, please” he whispers, then louder, like he needs you to hear it, “Please.”
“Please what, baby?” you breathe, brushing your thumb over the slick tip, watching his thighs tense in response. “I love when you use your words.”
Bucky’s breath shudders out of him like it’s been punched free, his whole body strung tight beneath you. His hands flex uselessly in the sheets, eyes flicking from your face to your hand on his cock to the ribbon you haven’t yet finished tying, and he looks absolutely wrecked by all of it.
“I need you,” he tries, voice shredding itself on the way out.
You tilt your head, thumb circling the head of him with sinful slowness. “Need me to what, baby?”
His hips jerk again, uncontrolled. “Need you to— fuck— just— keep going.”
“Not enough,” you murmur, leaning down so your lips brush his tip. “Try again.”
“Sweetheart—” His voice cracks so hard it breaks into a low, desperate sound. “Please, I need you to touch me properly. Fuck, please.”
“Mmm.” You consider him like you’re debating whether he deserves it, letting your hand squeeze him once, firm and purposeful, drawing a choked moan from his mouth.
“See?” you say gently. “That wasn’t so hard.”
You bring the ribbon up again, and this time you wrap it slowly—deliberately—starting loose at the base and spiraling upward, the satin catching on the slick between your fingers.
“That’s it,” you soothe as his thighs start to shake. “You’re such a pretty boy.”
When you reach the top, you tie the bow just beneath the swollen, aching head of him—pink, delicate, fluttering with every ragged breath he takes.
You pull back, taking in the sight as he makes a small, broken noise.
“Are you gonna be good and let me take a picture of you, pretty boy?”
Bucky freezes like someone pulled the plug on every muscle in his body.
“A—A picture?” he croaks, voice cracking so badly it barely counts as a word.
You hum, your fingertips tracing the bow, your smile slow and devastating. “Mmhmm. Just one. For me.”
His throat works in a visible swallow. “I…” He tries, fails, tries again. “Sweetheart, I— that’s— that’s dirty.”
You laugh softly. “Baby, look at you. You’re already filthy.”
His hips twitch upward. “I don’t— I don’t know if—” His voice stumbles off a cliff the second your hand wraps around him again, ribbon and all. He chokes on a moan, back arching beautifully.
“Relax,” you murmur as you lean over him, your lips brushing a featherlight kiss over the bow. “It’s just for me. Just to remember how pretty you look when you let me ruin you.”
He lets out a noise that isn’t a word, isn’t anything except surrender.
“I’ll look— I’ll look stupid,” he whispers, embarrassed and unbelievably hard.
“Oh, no,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly up his trembling thigh. “You’ll look beautiful. Absolutely perfect, all for me.”
He falls apart a little at that.
You watch the way it hits him—like the air leaves his lungs, like his cock twitches embarrassingly, the fight he thinks he’s putting up crumbles to dust.
Then, very quietly, almost shyly, he asks, “You really want a picture of me like this?”
You tilt his chin toward you with two fingers. “Of course I do. I’d make it my wallpaper, look at it whenever I miss you.”
He groans brokenly, cheeks flushing, cock jumping in your hand.
“Fuck,” he whispers—begging without even knowing what he’s begging for anymore. “Whatever you want.”
You smile, slow and delighted, thumb brushing over his swollen tip. You lean in until your breath scatters warm across his cheek, your whisper touching the shell of his ear like a secret.
“Good boy,” you murmur. “First? Hands behind your head.”
Bucky’s inhale is sharp, punched out of him like the command hit somewhere deep in his spine. He obeys, arms lifting slow, elbows wide, muscles trembling under your gaze as he laces his fingers together behind his head.
The position opens him up completely—broad chest rising fast, hips already giving tiny, desperate little twitches like he can’t stop offering himself.
“There you go,” you praise softly, and the sound alone makes his eyes flutter shut, a soft whimper escaping him. “Already so perfect for me.”
Your fingers trace down from his wrist, along the curve of his bicep, across his chest. He shudders like he’s being struck with each point of contact.
“Keep them there,” you warn gently. “If you move, I stop.”
His eyes snap open, wide and dark. “I won’t,” he breathes immediately. “I won’t move. I swear.”
“Mmm.” You drag a nail down the line of his stomach, watching the muscles jump beneath your touch. “We’ll see.”
He whines—an honest-to-god whine—as you sit back between his spread thighs, your phone now within reach on the nightstand.
“Sweetheart,” he blurts, panic and arousal tangling in his voice, “just— if you’re gonna do it, don’t— don’t take too long, alright?”
You look up with a slow, wicked grin. “Are you nervous?”
His jaw flexes. “No.”
“You sure?” you tease, running your hand up his inner thigh—close, closer, but deliberately avoiding his cock. “Because you look nervous.”
He glares at you, which would be adorable if he weren’t also leaking all over his own stomach, pink bow shifting with shudder. “I don’t look— I’m not—” He breaks off with a strangled moan as your fingers finally drag up the length of him, slow and intentional. “Fuck, sweetheart, please.”
You hum approvingly. “That’s better.” Another long stroke followed by his gasp.
He groans, head falling back again, throat exposed and beautiful.
You grab your phone and lift it—not quite taking the photo yet, just letting him see it in your hand.
Bucky goes completely motionless, save for the frantic rise and fall of his chest.
“Eyes on me,” you whisper.
His gaze snaps to yours instantly.
“That’s it,” you praise, your voice soft but edged with command. “Stay still, don’t hide from me.”
He swallows so hard it borders on painful. “O-okay.”
You angle yourself perfectly between his thighs, your free hand sliding up to hold him at the base—just enough pressure to make his breath catch, not enough to give him what he wants.
Bucky whimpers—broken, and helpless. “Please,” he whispers again, barely able to breathe. “Take it. Just— just take it.”
You smile, slow and victorious, thumb brushing his slit one more time.
“Good boy,” you murmur, raising the phone.
The shutter sound is soft—barely a click—but Bucky reacts like you fired a weapon. His whole body jolts, breath catching, thighs trembling as you lower the phone just enough for him to see your satisfied expression. “There,” you say softly. “Perfect.”
Bucky makes a noise like he’s being dragged under water—somewhere between a moan and a whimper, raw and unfiltered. His fingers twitch behind his head, but he doesn’t drop them. He’s too good. Too obedient. Too far gone for you.
“Sweetheart…” His voice cracks, barely holding shape. “Fuck, can I move now? Please?”
You tilt your head, pretending to consider it as you set the phone carefully on the nightstand. Then you trail your fingertips down the line of his hip, gentle, teasing, until you cup him again—your touch just shy of enough.
“No,” you murmur.
His hips jerk like he’s been shocked. “Fuck—okay—okay,” he gasps, arms flexing behind him. He’s shaking with the effort of staying still.
You lean forward, bracing your hands on either side of his ribs as you settle between his thighs again. His eyes drag down your body, desperate, hungry, completely at your mercy as you wrap your hand around him. Your hand closes around him fully this time—warm, sure, devastatingly slow—and Bucky breaks.
His whole body arches off the bed, a strangled sound ripping from his chest before he can bite it back. His arms flex behind his head, muscles trembling violently with the effort not to reach for you, not to grab your waist and haul you down onto him like he’s starving.
“Good boy,” you whisper, stroking him with a rhythm so slow it feels cruel. “You’re doing so well.”
He whimpers—raw and ruined—and his head drops to the side, eyes squeezed shut. “Sweetheart, please. Please, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“Mm, I know.” Your thumb traces the underside of his head, smearing the sticky slick that’s been gathering there. “That’s the point.”
His breath stutters. “You’re—fuck—y-you’re evil.”
Your smile curves against his stomach as you lean in to kiss the soft skin just above the pink bow. “And you love it.”
“I—” His voice hitches, cracking under the weight of your next slow pull. “Yeah. I do. God, I do.”
“Shh.” You kiss the bow again, and he shivers like you touched a live wire. “You’re perfect.”
You tighten your grip just slightly—just enough to make his thighs jerk.
Bucky gasps, eyes flying open, staring down at you like you’ve just stolen the last bit of sanity he had left. “Oh my god—sweetheart—don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”
You do.
You let him slip from your hand, his cock slapping against his stomach, flushed and slick and desperate, the bow trembling with each breath he takes.
“Why’d you—why’d you stop?” he pleads, hips lifting like they’re searching for your touch. “Sweetheart, please, I was— I was so close—”
“I know,” you coo, sliding your hands up his ribs, over his chest, until your palms rest on either side of his jaw. You lean in, kiss the corner of his mouth slowly, just once. Then you pull back enough that he sees the shift in your eyes.
“But I don’t want you to.”
He stares at you—wide-eyed, breathless—like he’s sure he misheard.
“W-what?”
You settle into his lap, dragging your body up along his until your mouth is against his ear. “Now,” you murmur, kissing him just barely, “keep your hands behind your head and let me ride you until the ribbon comes undone.”
⭒ ❪ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ❫ ﹕you and clark are—barely—keeping your relationship quiet at the daily planet… until a new intern decides to test clark’s patience.
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 boyfriend!clark x f!reader. clark is down bad for you. heavy makeout. not really smut, but clark ruts his hips against you and sucks your tit. jimmy and lois are menaces. clark breaks things because of jealousy. perry is secretly a fan of the couple ノ 3,464 words
₍^. .^₎⟆ ﹕i swear i try to stay away from pink, but i just can't, that's my colour fr!!! also, suggestions for clark are openn!! request whatever you want!! (as long as is not dark content)
you whimpered into clark’s mouth when his big hands squeezed your ass beneath your skirt, kneading like he’d been waiting all day for this.
“clark—” your palms pressed against his chest in a weak protest, but he only growled low in his throat, pulling you flush against him. his teeth tugged your lip before his tongue swept in, hot and desperate, and you melted right where he wanted you.
who would’ve thought this sweet, stuttering farm boy would be such a filthy freak?
“just a little more—” he rasped, lifting you up and pinning you to the wall like you weighed nothing. his mouth licking down your throat. “no one’s gonna catch us here… i checked.”
your fingers twisted into his hair, pulling, but it only made him hungrier.
“thought you said subtle—” your voice cracked into a whimper as he bit the soft spot at your neck. “clark—”
“i tried, i swear, but you… walk in looking like that—” his hips rutted against yours, the thick bulge in his slacks grinding right where you ached. “i c-can’t—” he silenced himself by crushing his mouth back onto yours, tongue greedy, kiss wet and messy.
and god help you—you let him. because he was clark. so unbearably sweet, so worshipful, so hopelessly obsessed with you.
he’s so sweet, how can you resist?
and he never knew when to stop. the way he stared across the bullpen like a kicked puppy, begging to be the object of your attention instead of those boring articles.
until jimmy smacked him with a “you’re so obvious, man.”
or when he brings your favourite drink, but then he’s forced to set one for jimmy and lois too, or else it’d be suspicious.
the way he begged for “just lunch” when he really meant two hours of being handsy and kissy before superman had to fly.
and now this—sneaking you into the supply room on lunch break because he can’t keep his love to himself—his words, not yours.
your blouse was open, bra tugged down, and his mouth was latched to your breast like a starving man. his tongue flicked your nipple, teeth grazing, sucking until your back arched and you bit down on a gasp. spit and heat smeared your skin where he worshiped you, groaning like the taste of you alone was enough to destroy him.
and it is.
“c-clark, you’re drooling—”
“don’t care.” his voice was wrecked, muffled against your chest as he sucked harder, thumb rolling your other nipple until you whimpered.
so lost in each other neither of you heard the footsteps—until the door banged open.
with a blur of super speed, clark fixed your bra, buttoned you back up, and set you on the ground, standing guiltily just as jimmy walked in with a stack of boxes.
but the damage was done. your hair a mess, lips kiss-bruised, lipstick smeared on clark’s mouth, his jaw, your chest. and worst of all, the straining and very visible outline in his pants, which clark slapped both hands over like that would hide anything.
jimmy just stared, jaw slack. then he sighed like the weight of the world was on him. “see, here’s the thing. i love rooting for my friends getting laid. i do. but we’re supposed to be lying low, not lying on top of each other.”
“it’s not—”
“we’re not lying—” you and clark chorused, equally panicked.
“oh yeah? it’s just ‘not telling the truth,’ huh?”
“exactly!” you squeaked, cheeks blazing.
jimmy handed clark a tissue. “you’ve got lipstick all over your chest, big guy.” then one for you. “and you, miss, lois is gonna kill someone if you’re not back at her desk in…” he checked his watch. “one and a half minutes. tops.”
“thanks, jimmy!” you hugged him quickly before fleeing the room—only stopping for one last stolen kiss on clark’s lips.
when you were gone, clark and jimmy locked eyes.
jimmy pointed blatantly at his crotch. “you’d better sort that out before anyone notices. try thinking about that old lady who tried to kiss you yesterday—the one who stuck her tongue all the way out.”
“darn it…” clark groaned, head thunking back against the shelf. equal parts despair over losing you too soon—and the cursed image jimmy just burned into his brain.
lois was perched on your desk, reviewing an article with you. clark stood farther than he needed to—though you swore he could be closer—but after the supply room incident at lunch (the one jimmy told lois about), both of them decided it was safer to keep you two apart for a while.
“something feels off…” you murmured, arms crossed as you frowned at the words crowding your screen.
“it does,” lois agreed, leaning in. “it feels like it’s missing something… like a chunk of information isn’t there.”
the two of you kept rereading the article, trying to catch what was bugging you so much—until perry’s voice rang through the bullpen.
“and here’s my most competent team!” he declared, wearing a smile so wide you had to blink at it. perry white, smiling? that was… new.
he called out your name, then added, “lois lane.”
two young adults stepped forward, bright and eager.
right. interns.
“this is clark kent, another reporter, and james olsen, photographer.” perry’s tone shifted flat again, far less enthusiastic than when he introduced you and lois. both men exchanged a glance at the difference.
the girl seemed shy, but her eyes lit up as soon as lois sarted talking. she was already scribbling in her notebook, jotting down everything she thought might matter.
the boy, on the other hand, only had eyes for you. he didn’t once glance at lois or ask a single question about what she was saying, instead, his attention stayed pinned to you, sharp enough that even lois and perry caught it.
“and just to make it clear,” perry added, voice firm again, “at the daily planet, especially in your positions—since we don’t take on many interns—dating is not allowed.”
both nodded obediently, though the boy’s gaze didn’t waver. if anything, he looked like the rule had nothing to do with him.
once perry and the interns moved along for the newsroom tour, lois swiveled back toward you, perching even more comfortably on the edge of your desk. there was a spark in her eye that immediately put you on edge.
“seems like my best friend here is a little too hot to handle, huh?” she teased, smirk tugging at her lips.
before you could even open your mouth, jimmy’s head appeared right beside yours—like he had a built-in radar for mockery. “what are we talking about now?” he asked, far too innocently.
“yeah, especially because your best friend is also my girlfriend,” clark interrupted as he stepped in, brows knitting in that awkwardly serious way of his. he planted himself right next to jimmy, tall frame casting a shadow over both of you like he had to stake some sort of claim.
you let out a groan, dragging your hands over your face. subtlety was officially dead.
“i know that, kent.” lois nearly rolled her eyes, leaning back with her arms crossed. “what i’m saying is the little intern boy couldn’t keep his eyes off your girlfriend.”
you didn’t need to lift your head to picture it—the tiny downturn of clark’s mouth, the faint crease in his brow, the beginnings of a pout tugging at his lips.
jimmy, of course, pounced. “charming young boys now?” he teased, elbowing clark’s side. “and here i thought your type was shy, tall, silly farm men.”
“isn’t it?” clark turned toward you instantly, voice a little rushed, like he genuinely needed you to confirm.
“yes!” you blurted, louder than intended, cheeks heating. quickly, you dropped your voice, leaning in. “very specifically, my type is clark kent.”
that was all it took—his whole expression broke into a proud, goofy grin, dimples showing, eyes shining like you’d handed him the world.
“and i’m not charming no young boy,” you added firmly, pointing at both men. “so maybe the peanut gallery should get back to work?”
neither of them moved.
“now,” you tried again, voice firmer.
jimmy groaned dramatically. “booo. no fun at all.” he shuffled back to his desk, still laughing.
clark, on the other hand, lingered, his grin softening into something shy. he leaned in slightly, like he was debating stealing a quick kiss—already glancing around to make sure no one was watching—when jimmy’s voice called out again from across the bullpen.
“kent, quit mooning and move it!”
clark startled, muttering a quick “coming!” before retreating, his ears turning a shade of pink you adored.
you couldn’t help it—the fond smile broke free, watching your big, silly man shuffle back to his desk like a scolded puppy.
“and what about the—” lois started, leaning in again, mischief returning full force.
“lois. you too.”
she gasped, hand over her chest like you’d insulted her honor. “but i am working!” she said, feigning innocence.
you sighed, defeated, while she kept grinning like a cat who’d cornered the canary, clearly not done with her teasing.
the next day, the interns were ready to go. penny, as you’d learned, was a complete sweetheart. sharp, serious, already reminding you of a younger lois with the way she devoured assignments and scribbled notes like her life depended on it.
the boy, though… still nameless to you, was another story entirely. no matter how hard he tried to play it cool, he was an absolute mess. tripping over his own feet, mixing up files, misreading headlines, fumbling with jimmy’s camera during “training.” every single mistake had one root cause: he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.
lois had noticed. you had noticed. everyone had noticed.
but right now—two weeks later—you were nose-deep in polishing an article, fixing formatting with laser focus, when a hesitant voice pulled you out calling your name.
you blinked up. there he was, leaning over your desk, nearly toppling your pen holder in the process. pens clattered, and he fumbled to fix it. “sorry—sorry, my bad.”
“no problem,” you said, tidying it again with a flick of your fingers, gently shooing him back to a safer distance. “and yes, that’s me. how can i help you…?”
“tyler.” he grinned, sticking out a hand like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“…tyler.” you shook it politely.
he seemed to gather his courage in one shaky breath. “i just—uh, I didn’t think there’d be such pretty reporters here. not every day you meet… someone like you.” the words tumbled out in a rush, and though he tried to hold himself upright, his ears gave him away, bright red.
you glanced at your watch—almost lunch break. clark had promised to take you out today.
“uh… thank you?” you said, voice distracted, already mentally halfway to clark.
from across the bullpen, a trio of spectators watched.
jimmy leaned forward in his chair like he was ringside at a boxing match. “twenty bucks says he’s about to ask her out.”
lois smirked. “make it forty. and double down—he’s embarrassing himself while he does it.”
“that’s not fair,” clark muttered tightly beside them.
and then, snap. the pen in his hand cracked clean in two, ink bleeding into his palm.
lois whipped her head toward him, eyebrows raised. “clark. really?”
jimmy stifled a laugh. “guess somebody’s not a betting man.”
lois sighed. “that’s the third pen this week, clark.”
jimmy snorted. “remember the stapler? what about the mug?”
“or the chair,” lois added.
clark’s ears went pink. “th-that chair was already broken.”
“mmhmm,” jimmy hummed, grinning wide. “you really oughta work on your poker face, big guy. one more crush-fit like that and perry’s gonna make you pay for office supplies.”
clark tried to hide his ruined pen under a stack of papers, glaring at jimmy. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
lois smirked, eyes flicking back to you laughing politely at tyler. “sure you don’t.”
and tyler was practically glued to your side. every time you shifted in your chair, he leaned in closer; every time you moved across the bullpen, he trailed after you like a lost puppy. polite smiles kept slipping onto your face, but inside you were counting the seconds until you could escape for lunch with clark.
the worst part? clark hadn’t gotten even a minute alone with you all morning—or in every other. twice he’d tried to check in, only for tyler to appear with a question about headlines. once he’d hovered by your desk with that little folded note he sometimes left you, but tyler had wedged himself in, asking about fonts of all things.
“wow, you type so fast,” tyler said now, propping an elbow on your desk and leaning much too close while you scrolled through your article. “what’s your secret?”
you kept your smile tight. “practice.”
from across the room, you could feel clark’s stare. the weight of it landed square on tyler’s shoulder blades, as if clark were trying to bore holes straight through him. lois, watching like it was her afternoon entertainment, propped her chin in her hand.
“he’s about to crack,” she murmured to jimmy.
jimmy grinned, stage-whispering, “two bucks says the pen doesn’t survive.”
but instead of breaking something this time, clark pushed back from his desk. his chair squeaked across the floor as he stood, straightened his tie with a decisive tug, and strode across the bullpen with that long, farm-boy determination of his.
“sweeth—” he said your name, clearing his throat. voice polite but firmer than usual, a steady note beneath it. “didn’t we have plans?”
your head whipped up, blinking at him. “oh, right—”
but tyler jumped in, oblivious. “plans? oh, hey, I was just about to invite her to lunch, too—”
clark leaned down, resting a broad hand on the back of your chair. his frame blocked half your desk, his shoulders filling your vision. his smile was polite, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes—those impossible blue eyes—were locked on tyler with barely veiled warning.
“no need,” clark said smoothly. “she already has a lunch date.”
“with who?” tyler blinked, still not getting it.
clark didn’t hesitate. “me.”
the bullpen went dead quiet. you swore you heard jimmy wheeze trying to stifle his laughter. lois pressed her lips together, eyes sparkling with barely hidden glee.
tyler froze, face heating scarlet. “o-oh. right. cool. um. have fun, then.” he shuffled backwards, nearly tripping on the leg of a chair before disappearing in a hurry.
lois clapped once, slow and mocking. “smooth, farm boy. real smooth.”
jimmy leaned back in his chair, grinning like a menace. “hey, at least he didn’t break the coffee pot this time.”
you buried your face in your hand, torn between laughter and embarrassment. clark, meanwhile, looked sheepish as he helped you gather your notes. “couldn’t wait five more minutes, huh?” you teased under your breath.
his ears burned pink, but his smile was soft and unashamed. “five more minutes was too long.”
tyler hadn’t left your side all morning. he hovered over your desk, tossing you half-baked leads, leaning far too close when he talked, and laughing just a little too loud. it was getting impossible. so impossible that even penny was bothered. every time she wanted to ask you something, he was there.
you tried to focus on your notes, tried to give polite answers, but across the bullpen, clark hadn’t touched his papers in twenty minutes, eyes flicking up every time tyler bent too far into your space.
when tyler called you “partner” for the third time, like you were already a team, clark finally pushed back his chair with a scrape.
“actually,” clark said, his voice calm but firm, “she already has a partner.”
tyler froze. “what? i thought—”
clark crossed the floor in a few strides, standing behind your chair. one hand braced gently on the backrest, the other resting on the desk near your notebook, like a quiet shield. his gaze lowered to yours, soft and protective. “we’ve been working together for a while now,” he said, voice just above a murmur. “long enough that… it’s more than work.”
your heart fluttered as his fingers brushed yours—just enough to make it clear that he wasn’t letting anyone else near you.
tyler’s ears burned red. “i… uh… need to—archives!” he muttered, and vanished without another word.
and then—
“kent.” and, in the same stern voice, he called your name.
both of you turned. perry stood in the doorway, arms crossed, scowl in place but eyes twinkling faintly.
clark’s hand slipped from the back of your chair. you followed him into perry’s office, feeling slightly like schoolkids caught passing notes.
“so,” perry said, leaning on his desk, voice gruff but warm, “how long has this been going on?”
you stared at each other. the cogs in your head turning, trying to make up anything before clark. you know he can’t lie to save his life.
“seven months, sir,” clark admitted and you sighed, kicking yourself mentally. “we didn’t want it to—”
“i don’t care if it’s seven months or seven years. if you two are dating, married, or planning a honeymoon on mars.” perry cut in, though a tiny smile tugged at his mouth. “as long as you still bring me stories that sell papers, it’s none of my business. just… don’t start smooching in front of the interns again, you hear me?”
you exhaled in relief. clark blinked, looking half-stunned, half-proud.
perry waved a hand. “now get outta here before i start regretting being soft. but—don’t think i didn’t notice. you two? cute as hell.”
back in the bullpen, clark’s hand brushed yours again—quick, subtle, protective, and warm—and you couldn’t help but grin.
back at your desk, the newsroom buzzed around you, but clark never really left your side. not hovering, exactly—just… there. his chair slid a little closer than necessary whenever you shifted, his elbow brushing yours when he reached for a pen, fingers lingering just a moment too long. small, innocent things—except tyler noticed them all.
the intern tried, bless him, but every time he leaned in with a question, clark was already there. standing, leaning, reaching, smiling at you in that soft, “don’t-you-dare-look-anywhere-else” way. the boy stammered, took a step back, then muttered something about checking the archives and vanished for a solid ten minutes.
lois and jimmy, of course, had front-row seats.
“ohhh, he’s really claiming her now,” lois whispered, eyes gleaming.
jimmy snorted. “look at that hand. the way it just… hovers. classic kent.”
you bit back a laugh, glancing at clark. his cheeks were faintly pink, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth was all confidence—protective confidence.
and every time tyler tried to step in, clark would casually adjust something near you, brush your papers back into place, or drop a pen into your hand with that same soft, lingering touch, like a quiet reminder: she’s mine.
even though it was subtle, tyler got the message loud and clear. by the end of the month, he was shuffling around the bullpen, giving you polite nods from a safe distance, occasionally glancing at clark like he’d accidentally walked into a fortress he couldn’t breach.
you leaned over, whispering to clark, “you don’t have to be so obvious.”
he smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from your shoulder. “i think it’s working.”
“it’s terrifying,” you whispered back, laughing.
“good,” he said softly, eyes warm, gaze never leaving yours. “i like terrifying them a little.” clark teased before tilting your chin up to press your lips together.
and just like that, the days slipped by—clark quietly, unshakably protective, tyler kept in check, and you couldn’t stop smiling at the subtle, constant attention that made even the busiest newsroom feel like your own little bubble.
it's brutal out here - Peter's class is going on a field trip to Stark Industries. The catch? No one believes he's an intern at SI and no one knows he's dating Tony Stark's daughter—other than Ned and MJ. Surely nothing will go wrong, right? ❀
such a dream to me - Peter wants to ask you out, but has no idea how to without completely stumbling over his words (and himself). ❀✎
connected to peter and introverted/cold reader
harmonia - During the day you're just a normal student at Midtown High. But during the night you are Harmonia, a hero with sonic manipulation powers. ❀✎ [coming soon!]
knock-knock, let the devil in: summary coming soon! ☠︎︎𖦹
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