I need this man to do nasty things to me so bad its actually dangerous

first clark req, how did I do guys 😽

you couldn't blame anybody but yourself.

you asked for this. you asked for clark to go harder on you, to fuck instead of make love. and clark kent being clark kent, he was happy to oblige!

and that's how you ended up with your right cheek sticking onto the bed sheets thanks to the saliva that had been endlessly drooling out of your mouth. you couldn't even bring yourself to think about dragging your jaw back up because of the way his thick cock pounding into you resonated throughout your entire body.

the speed at which he was battering your insides made you go limp, body succumbing to the pleasure that was brought to you thanks to his pace. the friction made your lips heat up which had you bucking away from time to time—unsuccessfully so, because of clark's big hands gripping your hips like he couldn't bear the idea of you getting away.

"baby, you're so good– you- gosh, you're perfect... so, so perfect f'me..." as for clark, he wasn't much better—if not worse. at first, he was hesitant about this, but when he shot his first load inside you, something primal in him blocked out any thoughts of stopping.

when you looked back at him, you saw it—his eyes were focused on a single spot on your ass, and you knew he wasn't looking at you. he was looking inside.

it all started with that damn groan. that type of deep, throaty, guttural groan that you can feel in your core every time clark does it.

most of the time it tells you that clark's just woken up, that he had just finished having some fun on dreamland somewhere.

on rare times, it's an intentional way of getting your attention.

clark kent can feel everything. he hears everything, sees everything, smells everything... so best believe your orgasms are as pleasurable for him that they are for you.

he's already high off the sensations that your body allows him to witness during sex—the way your walls stretch everytime he thrusts up into you, the way you insides keep increasing the amount of wetness pooling between your legs, the way he can hear your eyes rolling back a bit further more at each stroke of his finger against your clit...

but it's only when you orgasm that he thinks he has truly hit the jackpot. when you whimper out his name while stuttering about how you're cumming, he already knows. he hears your blood rushing in your veins, he smells the cream oozing out of you, he feels your body heating up instantly.

the way your entire body is putting in maximum amount of effort to take him, to adjust to the kryptonian, makes him climax aswell.

and when he sees his cum sneak into your womb while using his x-ray vision, he thinks he might faint.

cw: headlock fucking, tummy bulging + pressing, size kink

he moves like he’s afraid to wake you.

and you’re not asleep—not even close. your whole body is trembling, so full of him you don’t know where you end and he begins. but he’s still moving with that same cautious hush, like every stroke might be too much. like he wants to memorize you, not ruin you.

you’re bent forward on the bed, legs parted just enough to keep your balance. and he’s behind you, body folded over yours like a prayer. one arm looped under your neck in a soft, steady headlock—not choking, not tight, just there. holding. bracing. anchoring you to something bigger than breath.

his chest presses to your spine. his heartbeat is frantic. his hips roll slowly, every push of his cock deep and careful. you can feel how tightly he’s holding back—how even now, even with your body pulsing around him, he’s afraid of losing control.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, lips grazing your ear.

you try to answer, but the fullness makes your voice crack. instead you nod, pushing back slightly, letting him know you want more. need more.

his breath catches. he kisses your shoulder, the corner of your neck. the way he’s holding you makes it feel like there’s no space between you at all. his arm keeps you steady, chest pressing into you with every gentle thrust, and his other hand—oh god, his hand—slides slowly down your stomach.

“i can feel it,” he says, so softly it feels like it’s not meant to be heard. “sweetheart… i can see it.”

you blink, confused, until he takes your hand in his and guides it lower. his palm covers yours, calloused and warm, and he presses down gently right above your navel.

and that’s when you feel it.

feel him inside, hard, deep and so real.

the bulge in your tummy where he’s pressed so deep inside, your body stretched around him completely. it’s not imagination. it’s not abstract. it’s there. and you both freeze.

you can feel him pulse inside you when he notices. his breath stutters. your throat closes.

“that’s me,” he murmurs, not prideful—awed. reverent. “i’m… shit. i’m sorry. i didn’t think i was that deep.”

you shake your head fast, already trembling. “don’t say sorry. please don’t be sorry. i want this, clark. i want you.”

he chokes out your name like a prayer and holds you closer. his arm tightens just enough to pull your back to his chest, his hand never leaving your belly. he keeps your hand there, fingers splayed over the bulge of him inside you like it’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever shared.

“you’re so small,” he whispers. “i should’ve known. but you’re just… you’re holding me so well. i don’t want to hurt you.”

“you won’t,” you whisper back. “you’d never hurt me.”

he exhales like that’s all he needed to hear.

then he moves again—slowly, so slowly, hips rocking into yours with a rhythm that feels less like sex and more like longing. like he’s waited years for this. like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to have it.

every thrust is gentle. drawn out. he never pulls out all the way—just enough to make you feel the slide, the weight of him leaving, then filling you again in a single, careful press. it’s deep, unbearably deep, and so sweet you ache from it.

“you feel like home,” he says suddenly, voice cracking. “god, i sound stupid. i just—i didn’t know it could feel like this.”

you don’t answer. you can’t. your throat is thick and your eyes sting. instead you let your fingers thread through his on your stomach and lean your head back against his shoulder.

“you’re shaking,” he murmurs. “do you want to stop?”

“no. please don’t stop. it’s just… too good.”

he kisses the curve of your jaw. “then i’ll go slow. you deserve slow.”

and he does.

he fucks you like that for what feels like eternity. soft, warm, careful. the sound of skin on skin is barely audible, wet and steady. you’re drenched. your body’s molded around him now, fluttering tight with every pass of his cock across that perfect, aching spot.

and when you finally cum, it sneaks up on you. no shouting. no shaking. just a slow, building rush that takes over everything, a warmth that spills through your chest and leaves you gasping in his arms.

your walls clamp down around him and he moans—quiet, needy, desperate. he doesn’t move. doesn’t thrust again. he just holds you while your body pulses around him, chest to your back, lips to your shoulder, whispering,

“you’re perfect. you’re so perfect. i love you. i love you.”

and then he cums. not with force. not with heat. but like it hurts to hold it in. like he’s emptying out every ache in his chest into you, slow and aching. his cock twitches deep inside, flooding you with warmth, his hand pressing down on your belly to keep you full. his breath catches—his voice almost breaks.

“i’m sorry,” he says again, softly this time. “i didn’t mean to… i didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

you shush him, you turn your head. you kiss his jaw.

“i wanted it,” you whisper. “you’re so gentle. clark… you don’t have to be scared.”

and that’s when he really breaks. not with tears—but with love so quiet it nearly breaks you.

he stays buried inside you for a long time, arms around your chest, breath slowing behind you. and when he finally moves, it’s only to guide you down into the sheets, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, your back. you’re sore. shaky. trembling. and still, he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters.

because to him, you are.

content warning : dry humping. premature ejaculation. 18+ note. am i crazy for loving the idea & writing it ??

his hands stayed exactly where they were: frozen at the slope of your ribs, thumbs resting beneath the band of your bra as if stalled in negotiation. permission, restraint—all but outdated concepts rapidly losing meaning by the second. you were in his lap, forehead pressed to his, breaths intermingling in the scant inches between your mouths and fogging his glasses. clark hadn’t moved much; you were doing all the work, hips grinding down in pursuit of friction as he tried to reconcile the physics of cotton-on-cotton contact and why it felt so good.

“you—uh,” he stammered, voice breaking on the inhale. “you’re really… committed to this angle, huh?”

the chuckle you let out ghosted across his cheek.

“clark.”

his name worked better than persuasion. his hands dropped to your waist in a last-ditch effort at moderation. he might’ve meant to slow you down, maybe regain some upper hand, but whatever the motive was, it achieved the opposite. you felt the thick line of his cock through his slacks, twitching against the seam of your panties.

“sweetheart,” clark’s voice pitched embarrassingly high. “you’re… gosh, you’re—o-oh wow.” his head thumped back against the couch cushion, one hand came up to cradle the base of your skull, fingers weaving through your hair, less to control than to orient himself—as if holding onto you might keep his sanity intact. “we’re still wearing clothes,” he mumbled, as if that fact ought to matter. his hips had already started canting up to meet yours, without shame. “this shouldn’t feel this good.” in answer, you pressed your mouth to his throat. felt the jump of his pulse against your tongue, then the tense bob of his swallow as you mouthed lower. beneath you, a tiny patch of dampness darkened through the front of his slacks.

yes, the idea of reader getting used as a fleshlight is fantastic, but what about reader using him as a dildo? not worried about his pleasure. you're only fucking him because he's a loser with a huge cock.

you're stuffing your panties (lacy, soaked through, reeking of your perfect pussy) into his face in a failed attempt to stifle his loud, unabashed moans. he definitely hasn't been fucked before, if so, not like this. due to his inexperience, he's probably came way too many times already inside you, and so you're bouncing on his fat, slimy cock with cum sloshing inside you and leaking with every bounce onto his pelvis.

"oh fuck- shut up, will you? i'm t-trying... mmnh... to focus," you manage out. trying to sound stern is basically an impossibility when you've got his cock smushed inside you to the hilt.

his hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling beneath you as you sink down on him and then rock your hips back and forth while completely stuffed. this method doesn't give him as much pleasure as it does for you, but you don't care. this isn't for his pleasure, or your connection. all you care about is how deep he hits when you sink all the way, how your cunt's clenching so tight he can't stop shaking.

"f-fuck-!" he whines again pathetically through the lace in his mouth, drool soaking the crotch of your panties where they're pressed over his mouth and nose. his eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on the place where you meet him. it's humiliating how desperate he looks.

"you like getting used, huh?" you pant, beginning to bounce again so the overstimulation hits once more. you let his big, drooling cock drag and catch with each rough bounce. it makes that slick, wet sound every time you move.

"ah- ye-yeah, like it soooo much," he moans so loud it vibrates through your soaked panties, tries to say something, but you shove your panties harder into his face so you don't hear what shit he has to say. his cock pulses again and you can feel more warmth spill out of you, overflowing from the tip, dripping down to his balls in glooping heaps. "such a -shit- big fucking cock wasted on a nobody like ngh! you. y-you don't deserve it."

your voice cracks halfway through but you don't stop or pretend this is anything but using him like he's just a toy that happens to twitch and moan and cum without your permission. your hands are braced on his chest for balance, his skin hot and slick under your palms from how hard he's sweating, poor thing.

you push the underwear just enough to see his eyes, which are teary and rolled back. his eyes clamp shut when you drop down especially hard, and his whole body jerks like he's seizing. his stomach tightens under your hands but the second you grind down again deep, slow and mean, he lets out a strangled sob into your panties, soaked through with spit and the sharp scent of your cunt.

"mmnh, fuck, look at you," you breathe out, "you're crying, sweetheart. is it too much?" you coo mockingly, dragging your hips up until just his swollen tip is nestled at the edge of your cunt, nearly pulling out. the area where his cockhead enters you is smeared in cum and slick. he scrabbles at your arms, needing to be back inside you. then, without warning, you slam back down, clamping hard on him.

⁺༝ ꒰ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིა ❤︎ ໒꒱ིྀ༝⁺ mob!jj x angel!reader

cw: postpartum tenderness, breastfeeding, non sexual nudity, soft domesticity.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

the baby is swaddled tightly in your arms, a soft little grunt escaping her lips as he nuzzles closer to your chest. the car ride from the hospital has been peaceful, calm and quiet.

peaceful, not like you were used to, not with jj anyway, what with the life that came with him. but now? now the only sounds surrounding you is the soft rumble of the engine of his vintage, black chevy.

the cabin comes into view as the sun dips lower behind the trees, it wasn’t huge, no, not flashy, it was the perfect size… one of those hidden luxury kind of places.

a stretch of large brown and green trees surrounding it, and through the trees an opening to the beach can be found. the sand soft and white, the waves blue, sky turning orange.

it was the perfect choice for freedom from the world, a little getaway.

jj parks the car and climbs out, circling it to your side, before you even each for the back seat jj beats you to it. “i’ve got her” he says softly, reaching for baby gabriella.

his touch exterior doesn’t show in the way he holds her, his arms strong, but cradling her like she’s made of delicate glass.

you step into the cabin, eyes lighting up, at the open plan kitchen, living room and dining area, giving it all a spacious yet small and cozy feel.

the fire place making it warm and welcoming, wood tones and rusty oranges paired with forest greens seemed to be the theme going on.

jj moves through it like it’s already his, already yours. “two bedrooms” he says, nodding towards the hallway, “but we’ll be in one… i want her close” he says softly.

“she won’t be far… she’s never leaving my chest” you say, voice a little strained from exhaustion and previously crying out in pain during birth, everywhere aching still.

he smirks, tired and warm. “good, i want her where i can see her… both of you… my angels, now go sit that cute ass down” he says already guiding you by your lower back.

the next few days are blurred into a gentle rhythm.

jj is taking care of both of you, he cleans up spills, he cooks meals, he holds you and the baby… he bathes you and gabby.

he is always up before you every morning, holding gabriella to his chest, whispering things no one else would ever get to hear from him, apart from you and her.

and as for work? the phone calls, they’re always in the other room, short, sharp and controlled, he never lets calls interfere with family life, the phone rings? he ignores it until you and gabby are both asleep, tucked up safely in bed.

you watch him one night from the couch, blankets over you, the baby laying on his chest, his hand splayed over her back in a protective manner. his phone buzzed quietly on the coffee table. he didn’t even blink.

and later that night you settle on to the comfy couch with her, jj behind you, arms bracketing yours as you breastfeed the tiny newborn baby, her little fingers wrapping around one of yours.

jj’s hand rests at the nape of your neck. his other steadying your arm under gabby.

“she’s always so calm when you hold her” you say quietly.

“she feels you… feels how loved she is…” he says, his voice low.

when she finally finishes feeding, her little body begins to go soft with sleep, jj wraps his arms around both of you.

he helps cradle her against your chest as you both hum to her, quiet and full of warmth.

he takes her from you, placing her into the bedroom in the bassinet beside the bed, tucking her in with her bunny stuffed animal, being gentle and light handed like she was made of spun sugar.

he comes out of the bedroom, you’re already in the door way watching. “bath time, angel” he says, taking your hand.

you follow him into the bathroom, candles flickering, he’d snuck off to light them and draw a warm bath while you changed gabriella.

he helps you undress, slowly with no rush, still looking over your body with that intense hunger in his stare.

he slips into the water first… holding out his hands, easing you in with him, wrapping his arms around you so that your back is to his chest.

you sigh softly as the warmth soaks through your sore muscles “i’ve never felt more taken care of” you murmur.

jj kisses the top of your head, one hand moving gently over your body “thats the whole point… you gave me a family… i need to take care of what’s mine”

and he does, every breath and every gentle motion was him worshipping the life the two of you have built together.

and as you lay next to each other afterward, you’re all tucked up under the blankets in your cute nightdress, he’s next to you, clad in only his boxers, his back resting against the large navy blue headboard, gabby laying beside you both, sleeping.

“i needed this” he admits, his voice is barley a whisper.

you nuzzle into his side, laying your head gently on his shoulder and smile. “we both did”

he kisses your forehead. “no one’s getting near us here… okay? i’ve got you and i’ve got her… you’re both safe with me.” he says.

“i know…” you say looking up at him from his shoulder, your long eyelashes batting.

he drops his forehead against yours. “you and baby gabby have the most feared man in the mob softened for the both of you”

it makes you giggle, because it’s true, he is the most feared and you and gabby both have him wrapped around your fingers.

“how has everything been at home?” you ask.

“nuh uh, no talking about home, okay? this is our time, away from everything… i have everything under control alright, no worrying that pretty little head of yours” he says kissing your head.

and right now… in this moment, you know that the next three weeks are gonna be heaven for the three of you.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

⁺༝ ꒰ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིა ❤︎ ໒꒱ིྀ༝⁺ mob!jj x angel!reader

cw: postpartum angel! breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, soft domesticity.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

the cabin is filled with soft silence, the only sounds being the steady hush of waves rolling up against the sand, the faint hum of wind in the trees and the rain against the window.

you’re curled up in one of your cute nightgowns, next to jj who’s shirtless as always.

and then the little sounds started, quiet little whimpers, sleepy little squeaks.

and then? a drawn out wail.

gabby stirring again after waking you up only an hour ago to feed her.

you stir slightly, groaning softly as your eyes flutter, just as you sit up jj places a firm hand on your hip. “i got her, angel” he mumbles, voice gruff with sleep yet still protective.

he rolls out of bed, hair messy and his eyes barley open, walking over to the bassinet on your side of the bed, scooping gabby up into his strong arms.

“there you go princess, it’s alright daddy’s here” he whispers as he bounces her gently.

you turn over slowly, watching through half lidded eyes as jj sits down at our feet, on the edge of the bed, facing the window across from him.

nothing makes you happier than seeing jj with gabriella, the way he focuses all of his attention on to her.

the past few nights have been hard, getting used to being parents, he’d wake up for diaper changes, he’d wake up with you when you had to feed her, he’d be there, one arm under her and one arm around you, watching her suck away peacefully.

he’d chuckle a little, saying something about how she’s “a greedy little baby” to which you reply “she gets that from you.”

the moonlight through the drapes highlights his broad shoulders, and the snuggled up baby, swaddled against his chest like she belongs there… and she does.

“you hungry or just messing with me huh? gonna make daddy guess again?” he says quietly to her.

he glances over his shoulder at you, giving you that same smirk as always. “go back to sleep, baby i got her” he says.

“she just wants her dad” you smile softly, adjusting your pillow.

“and my girls will always get what they want” he murmurs

he rocks her slowly, humming to her, an elvis song and eventually she calms down, her cries turning to soft whimpers and then sleepy little breaths.

jj places her down in the bassinet next to the bed, kissing her little head, tucking her in with her bunny before climbing back into bed with you.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against him, burying his face into your coconut scented hair.

“back to sleep, mama, we’re good” he whispers into your hair.

and you are.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

°˖➴ hunter!jj x sunshine!reader

°˖➴ hunter!jj x sunshine!reader who…

live together in a cabin with a front porch, a cute back yard and front yard… small but they love it. the front of the house looks on to the beach which is 10 feet away from the end of their yard. and if you look right, in the distance you can see how long the woods go on for. the cabin is a five minute drive to the town. pretty secluded.

they have a dog, a german shepard named marley, named after the one and only bob marley.

°˖➴ hunter!jj who…

is a man of rituals, will always walk the same path in the woods, will always lace his boots the same, take the same breath before each shot, it’s a good way to calm the chaos in his head.

takes marley with him, off leash. and when marley starts growling into the dark he doesn’t flinch “let it come” he’ll mutter under his breath, holding up his rifle.

jj doesn’t fear. he knows the silence out there and when it’s wrong, when it’s watching. so he hums old country songs under his breath, says it keeps the dark off his back.

doesn’t trust easily. and when you’re out walking with him and marley, his grip on your hand never loosens, his eyes always aware and his hands always ready.

“i ain’t scared of the woods, of what’s lurking in the dark… im scared of losing you… you’re the only thing i need in life, baby”

keeps his rifle, boots and big jacket by the door along with marley’s leash.

°˖➴ sunshine!reader who…

feels everything so deeply, people, places and shifts in energy. and will burn sage in the house when something feels off in the energy. usually when jj comes home all calm but his eyes looking like they saw a ghost.

leads with love, if she cries it’s because she cares, and when sunshine cares? it’s fierce and forever.

sobbed so hard when jj once brought home a deer… jj had never felt guilt like it. and now? he’ll tell her all about the deers he sees… but he will never hurt one.

believes in signs and gut feelings, will tell jj to stay home if she feels off. and she’s always right. jj swears she’s psychic.

“i don’t want you to go into the woods tonight… something in the air doesn’t feel right… feels like the dark’s waiting on you”

walks barefoot in the front yard as she tends to the plants, marley by her side like a solider on duty. and jj watching from the porch steps.

°˖➴ marleyboy!

who always sleeps at the foot of the bed, unless you’re sad… then it’s full protection mode, laying on top of you, crushing you.

has a bandana that says “goodest boy” in jj’s handwriting

never leaves jj’s side when they’re out hunting, except once… he growled and bolted into the trees, jj panicked and whistled, bolting after him… marley came running back over to him wagging his tail like he did a good job protecting him from something.

is a big boy, he’s heavy, if he’s on leash best believe you’re getting tugged along.

if you guys are at the lake and jj is fishing, he’ll bark at the fish, trying to bite at them but then running over to you knowing you’ll baby him. even though he’s protective, fierce, a clever boy, he’s a big baby.

part one - part two

pairing: lover boy!jj x gf!reader

warnings: mentions of smoking, slight freakiness, jj being needy and a gossip.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

lover boy!jj masterlist | main masterlist

when it came to you and kiara, it never felt like a hard choice for jj. other than your emotional connection, how it felt like you were brought into his life just for him, the sex felt amazing. it never felt boring, and he loved how when he bit, you always bit back.

the way neither one of you could stay dominant for long, quickly overtaken by the other as you fought for control. biting at each other, letting beautiful purple and red marks bloom across each other's skin, your nails leaving claw marks down his back whenever his cock dug too deep into your cunt.

his grunts tingling your ear as he tells you how tight you are, how soaked you are when wrapped around him as that creamy, wet noise fills wherever you two chose to tear each other's clothes off. whether it be the twinkie, outside by the beach, anywhere really. his small whispers, telling you how "you were made for him," or "he needs you in his life forever." god, he couldn't get enough of you—especially when he realized it was you he always needed. jj had never been the type to yearn, but you made him work for it.

even when he tried to drag it out, rolling his hips achingly slow, it didn't last. those loud whines you gave, the way your velvety walls clenched around him as he drove deep into you—he couldn't help himself once he spilled into you, cum warm as he stuffed himself inside you.

You’d always suspected there was something about Clark.

Not just the way he carried himself — quiet, unassuming, all rolled sleeves and apologetic smiles — but the way his hands lingered just a second too long when he passed you your coffee. How his knuckles brushed yours when you walked too close. It was enough to make you wonder.

But you never expected this.

Not him between your thighs, not his voice—low and reverent—murmuring your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth. Not the way he’s got you stretched across the couch in his apartment, your shirt haphazardly tugged up, your legs spread open with your underwear shoved to the side. Not the way his fingers are inside you now, deep, slow, dragging against your walls like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

“Clark—” you gasp, clutching at the collar of his flannel shirt, dizzy from the way he’s watching you. Focused. Like you're something sacred. Like if he looked away, he'd lose you forever.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, lips ghosting over your jaw as he curls his fingers just right. Your hips jerk. “I can feel your heartbeat. Right here.”

His free hand rests on your lower belly, holding you down while he works the other inside you—two fingers thick, deliberate, and devastating. He’s careful, but he’s not shy. And the way his voice drops when you moan? Ruinous.

“God, you feel…” He swallows hard, eyes flickering down to where his fingers disappear inside you. “You’re squeezing me so tight, sweetheart.”

You’re not sure if it’s the pet name or the pressure—slow, perfect thrusts, the kind that make your toes curl—but something inside you twists, pleasure winding hot and unbearable.

Clark notices. Of course he does.

“Almost there?” he murmurs, his thumb pressing in tight, perfect circles over your clit. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

And when you do—when your body tightens and you cry out, fingers clawing at his chest—he groans like he’s the one coming. He doesn’t pull away immediately. Just eases you through it, fingers still slow inside you, grounding you. His lips press to your temple, warm and soft.

“Jesus,” you whisper, dazed. He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “I told you I’d take care of you.” And you think—maybe this whole time, he wasn’t just pretending to be gentle. Maybe Clark is that soft. That sweet. That deadly kind of careful.

── SOLAR WARMTH.

summary: you're cramping, exhausted, and curled up on the bathroom floor when Clark finds you. he doesn’t try to fix everything—he just holds you like you’re his whole world, and somehow, that’s enough.

pairing: clark kent x gender-neutral!partner.

cw: period pain / hurting. besides that, fluff! gentle clark. requested blurb. short writing.

taglist: @plaidcowboy @prismozo @lcvgty-4929 ( to be added )

It starts before Clark even gets home. He hears your heartbeat long before he unlocks the front door. It's quicker than usual, a little uneven. Not dangerous, but enough for him to pause on the porch, brow furrowing behind his glasses. You're in pain. He can tell.

Not in the hospital-level kind of way—he would have flown—but in that deep, dragging discomfort that hits just behind your ribs, right in your gut.

Something familiar. Something he’s seen you go through before.

When he finally steps inside the apartment, he doesn’t call out. He doesn’t need to. The lights are low. Your favorite blanket is curled in a heap on the couch, the TV humming quietly in the background.

You’re not there, but he hears the faint sound of water running from the sink in the bathroom.

Clark sets the grocery bag down gently on the counter—he’d stopped for dinner on the way back—and walks toward the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise. You’re sitting on the floor, back against the tub, knees drawn up to your chest. There's a heat pack clutched to your stomach, and your eyes are closed, jaw clenched tight.

He doesn’t need x-ray vision to see the pain blooming through your lower back and cramping through your abdomen. It hits him like a wave. Not the pain itself, but the fact that he can’t take it from you.

── SUPER FOCUS.

summary: when you’re in the middle of working about a deadline but your boyfriend, clark, thinks you need to relax. what’s best than give you head for that?

pairing: clark kent x girlfriend!reader.

cw: +18. mdni. short writing. oral sex. teasing during work. praise. mild overstimulation. worshipping vibes. aftercare. mild teasing.

taglist: @plaidcowboy ( to be added )

It starts the way it always does—with you curled up on the couch, glasses sliding down your nose, the dull hum of your laptop fan competing with the quiet tapping of keys. You’re wearing one of Clark’s Metropolis Star shirts, oversized and soft, short sleeves down to your elbows as you scroll through the draft of your article for the fourth time.

Clark’s been quiet for the last half hour, just watching you from the opposite end of the couch like he’s trying to memorize every time you furrow your brows or chew on the tip of your pen. His eyes have been on you like he was thinking of something important, one of his hand brushing your bare thigh up and down softly. The tip of his fingers causing goosebumps on your skin.

You don’t even notice him moving until he’s finally nudging your knees apart.

“Clark—what are you—?”

“Keep working,” he says, voice low and sweet, like warm syrup as he settles between your legs. His hands slide up your bare thighs, thumbs dragging lazy circles along your skin. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Hard to do when Superman is sitting between my legs while I try to work.”

⁺༝ ꒰ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིა ❤︎ ໒꒱ིྀ༝⁺ mob!jj x angel!reader

cw: pregnancy, swearing.

baby shopping! angel is eight months pregnant in this one!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

the baby boutique was like a wonderland of pastels, tiny clothes and dainty furniture.

eight months in and you’d both procrastinated this slightly.

one hand on your bump, the other in jj’s as you walk around in the store. he stands close beside you with his usual tough exterior softened by the glow of soon becoming a daddy.

he picks up a tiny pair of white fluffy socks holding them up “baby look at this” he says a smile creeping on to his face. “they’re gonna have the warmest little toes around” he says, chucking them into the cart.

you smile shyly, “i love ‘em”

as you walk past shelves, jj’s spots adorable little onesies covered in animals, silly sayings, and some just cute yet plain. he grabs two handfuls, putting them into the cart. “we’re not leaving without half the store, angel” he says, making you laugh.

you see a cute pink blanket… your fingers rubbing over the soft material. jj smirks, taking the blanket, putting it in the cart.

“but j, we said we wouldn’t buy pink or blue yet…” you say softly.

“i know we did, but i think you and i both have a feeling it’s a girl huh, angel?” he smirks with a tender voice.

you smile, putting a hand on your bump.

some sort of gut feeling had driven both you and jj to the idea of having a baby girl.

both of you pick out enough clothes to fill the cart, whilst of course remembering the things like diapers, blankets and other necessities.

you both go around picking the big stuff, things like a crib, bassinet, decor and furniture for the nursery.

“awh shit, angel look at this” he says with a scoff laugh, picking up a bunny stuffed animal, beige with floppy ears, the boutiques own brand.

“we need to get them this!” you say with a soft gasp, eyes lighting up.

“already going to, baby” he smiles.

you freeze once noticing the price tag. “one hundred dollars?…”

“and what about it, angel?” he says, picking up an expensive baby blanket “eighty dollars, one hundred dollars, one thousand dollars baby i don’t give a shit, money well spent”

you go to protest but he’s already dragging you to the stroller and car seat section, looking for the most expensive ones, because he wants only the best for his mini angel.

the baby isn’t even born yet they’re already getting spoiled by momma and dadda.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

🫧just a little short one angels

🫧 inspired by this request from @blushhbambi

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: youre known for doing something impulsive from time to time but this might be your best decision yet

a/n: had a neurodivergent reader in mind I know my adhd had me make some impulsive decisions haha

I wish I knew how to write smut🥲 tho this is might just be the filthiest dirtiest thing I've ever written

warnings: kitty eating, hard sex, lots of come, possessive bucky, squirting

bucky masterlist

~~~~~

Bucky gets worried when he's on a mission for a long time, he knows you're going to be okay but he also knows your adhd is unpredictable. He just hopes you don't run out of your meds or forget to take them.

"I'll be fine Buck, besides it's only 3 weeks you'll be back in no time!"

──  ˙ ̟  !!    ꣑୧ jj maybank x innocent!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

cw: fluff

JJ sighed, a dramatic huff leaving his throat. “Fine,” he muttered, head falling back against the couch cushion, his throat exposed, jaw clenched just slightly like he was trying to behave but failing miserably at pretending he didn’t want to literally devour you whole.

You stifled a smile, your bottom lip caught gently between your teeth as you turned your focus back to the design on his arm. Your fingers worked steadily, guiding the tip of the henna cone in slow, delicate movements. The soft brown paste formed clean little loops and curves, the sunset shape beginning to take form—just like you'd imagined it.

But JJ wasn’t making it easy.

His hand stayed resting on your thigh, the pad of his thumb drawing lazy little circles against your skin. His other hand twitched where it was pressed into the couch cushion, like it was dying to move. To touch you. To yank you forward and kiss you until the henna didn’t matter anymore.

You caught him staring again.

His gaze wasn’t even subtle—his eyes were on your mouth, then your neck, then back to your mouth like he was starving and you were the only thing he’d ever wanted. “You’re not even watching the tattoo,” you mumbled, not looking up.

“I’m watchin' something better,” he said easily, his voice a little lower, a little rougher.

Your cheeks burned instantly, and for a moment, your hand stilled. You shook your head, biting back a flustered smile as you adjusted the cone and carefully added a tiny flower beside the curve of the sun. “You keep talking like that, and I swear I’m gonna mess this up, j.”

“Maybe I want you to, so uh - you can stay right here,” he grinned, his hand sliding a little further up your thigh.

You chuckled, your head dipping forward for a second, letting your forehead rest lightly on his shoulder. “You’re such a damn menace.”

He grinned proudly, leaning his head into yours. “i take that a compliment, actually.”

With a little roll of your eyes, you lifted your hand and carefully began adding your initial—just below the sun, where it would dry like a secret. A mark on him that no one else would understand but you.

“There,” you whispered. “Done.”

JJ glanced down at it, then back at you, and his eyes softened instantly. “It’s perfect, baby” he said.

“Don’t move too much, okay? Gotta let it dry for at least twenty minutes.”

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, but then his hand moved again—up, under your shirt this time, calloused fingers brushing lightly along your back.

You gave him a warning look. “JJ.”

He pouted. “I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re thinking about doing something.”

He nodded. “That’s not illegal.”

You sat up straighter in his lap, still straddling him, and narrowed your eyes. “Twenty minutes, and then you can be a menace again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He grinned, satisfied, and finally leaned back with a contented sigh. His arm stayed still, careful not to smudge your artwork, but his eyes never left you—not for a second. You weren’t sure if he was more proud of the henna or the fact that you’d sat in his lap for fifteen minutes straight without escaping his hold.

But either way, he was smiling.