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SOME readers when you tell them that if they don’t like smut then they can block the smut tag
It is getting soooo tiring seeing the same boring post about “there’s too much smut!” “Stop writing smut!”
I mean this from the bottom of my heart, if you hate it hate it that much, block the tag. Simple. Making a post degrading authors for choosing to write what THEY want is never it.
If you want fluff, write it, INTERACT with it, ask for it. Same goes with angst. People write smut because they like too and it gets more interactions.
And it’s always the accounts that repost nothing BUT smut that have the most to same, practice what you preach. Shaming people for only reading “porn” (as some have put it) won’t work. If they choose to write it, then so be it.
I’m going to repeat this again. Stop complaining about what authors write. All this writing is free. If you want fluff, then WRITE IT.
pairing: Diana Prince x f! reader (has a pussy + fem pronouns) x Clark Kent x Bruce Wayne x Barry Allen x Hal Jordan (at the same damn time!!!)
summary: when you get infected with a mysterious substance on a mission, there are only two options: die, or fuck your coworkers
cw: 4k words, dubcon, mentions of blood, mentions of death, sex pollen/aphrodisiacs, gangbang/orgy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism, creampies, lots of cum, doggystyle, stand & carry, double penetration, praise/degradation, reader gets passed around like crazy
froggi yaps -> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! i have been SO SO SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE!!! from the start i knew i wanted to do a crazy gangbang & it was either gonna be the JLA or if I was feeling lazy, Dick/Roy/Reader/Wally. anyway please enjoy my JLA insanity <3
not ready for halloween to be over yet? come trick or treating!
Of all the stupid things you’ve done in your life, walking directly into the glowing purple room on a hostile spaceship definitely ranks first.
You’d just finished fighting your way through the horde of robots that occupied the ship when you spotted it. Bruce had been in a heated discussion with Hal, scanning something in the alien-robot helmets that you didn’t quite understand. Barry had scratched his neck, trying to play mediator.
No one but you seemed to notice the glowing, whispering room only a few short steps down the hall. No one seemed to notice the incredible scent—oddly reminiscent of Diana’s perfume—or the way it beckoned you in.
No one noticed as you shuffled your feet towards it in a trance, picked up an ID card from one of the deceased robots, and scanned yourself into the room.
It was Clark that noticed first, his superior hearing perking up the minute he heard the soft click of the door. “What are you doing?”
Barry’s on his feet in an instant, tearing away from the argument. It’s a millisecond, maybe two, before he gets to you. But he’s too late.
Dazed, you’d already stumbled into the purple mist, the door sealing shut behind you.
The minutes after that were a blur. The mist had wrapped around you, invaded every pore, filled every breath until you weren’t sure if you were breathing or drowning. The burning in your lungs snapped you out of your trance and you immediately spun around to pound on the glass door in front of you.
It didn’t give. Even through Clark and Diana’s joint efforts, through every construct Hal could build and every plan Bruce could think of, the door didn’t give. You were trapped. Utterly helpless, suffocating.
The room only got hotter from there, the perfumey scent that had once been enticing now made your stomach churn. Your muscles weakened and you let yourself slide against the door, resigning yourself to dying on an alien-robot spaceship.
You were unconscious by the time the door opened three minutes later. Diana had immediately grabbed you and dragged you out, scrunching up her nose at the scent coming from the room.
Bruce checked your pulse, Clark scanning over you with his xray vision to make sure you weren’t injured. For all intents and purposes, you were fine. Sure, your core temperature was a little elevated, and yeah, you were unconscious—but you were fine.
Which brings you to now: waking up on the cold metal floor, a horrible ache rattling the back of your skull. There’s a scratch in your throat, a new sort of heat pulsing through you.
You blink up at the five faces above you, forcing yourself to sit up. The pain in the back of your head sharpens to a point as you sit, a trickle of blood leaking from your nose and over your lips.
You wipe it on the back of your hand without thinking, looking groggily around the room. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bruce says gruffly.
Diana crouches down next to you, brushing a thumb over the steady stream of blood coming from your nose. “How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy,” you admit. “Everything hurts.”
You open your mouth to apologize for wandering off and to warn them about the trance-like state the gas from the room put you in, but freeze when a wave of warmth rolls over you. It starts in your chest, radiating out through your veins and pooling in your lower stomach.
And then it burns, like acid is eating through your organs. You double over, gagging from the pain, pulling your knees into your stomach. Short, gasping breaths leave your lips.
Barry crouches on your other side, laying a gentle hand on your back. “Easy now, easy.” He looks at Diana over your head, frowning, “she’s a thousand degrees.”
The Amazonian nods solemnly though she doesn’t dare open her mouth lest her words make you feel even more anxious.
Somewhere off to the side, while you’re trying to keep your stomach from flipping inside out, Hal and Bruce are trying to figure out just what exactly was in that room. The purple coloured smoke was unlike anything either of them had seen before, and though neither of them want to admit it, that doesn’t bode well for an antidote.
The pain in your stomach subsides, narrowing down to your core. Your eyes shoot wide at the all too familiar feeling. You swallow, casting your gaze down.
“How’s the pain?” Clark asks, lips pursed in a frown.
His eyes lock with Diana’s in a silent conversation, Clark assessing your vitals as subtly as he can. You’ve only grown hotter since you woke up, the pain you once felt all over localizing to your lower half.
You double over in pain again, your stomach cramping the way it would when you’re on your period. Heat pools in your underwear, leaking through to the inner seams of your suit. Your lungs ache for air but every breath feels warm and shallow.
Diana rubs a hand over your lower stomach and the minute her palm makes contact, the pain briefly subsides. The sweet relief of a deep breath expands your lungs.
You lean into her touch, tilting your head to rest on her broad shoulders. The closer you are to her, the more of her that fills your senses, the better you feel.
At the same time you make this revelation, Bruce and Hal are joining back with the group.
Though it’s rare to see Bruce smile in his Batman persona as it is, the deep frown on his face feels like a bad sign. “We’ve figured out what the toxin was.”
Next to Bruce, Hal is an equal mix of concerned and flustered. The pair of them only makes your anxiety spike, the pain you’d staved off coming back.
“What is it?” Barry asks, his own hand resting comfortingly on your knee.
“The good news is that it’s not exactly a poison.”
You look up at Hal through your lashes, waiting for him to say more, about how this could possibly be good news.
It’s Bruce that speaks up. “It’s a lab made chemical, meant to help with population regrowth on near-desolated planets.”
No matter how horribly, desperately you don't want it to be true, you know that it is. Before he even continues speaking, a part of you knows what he’s going to say next. Knows what’s coming to you.
“It inflicts damage on your body, staying in your system until you either satiate it or…” He trails off and you swear the frown lines on his face deepen.
No one dares ask what comes after ‘or’.
It’s Diana that breaks the silence. “How is it satiated?”
“Population regrowth,” your voice cracks on the word. “You fix it by reproducing.”
Bruce nods solemnly, confirming what you already knew.
You lay your palms flat on the floor, trying to push yourself to your knees. The minute Diana and Barry’s hands fall off of you, the pain comes back tenfold, radiating up your spine until you’re dizzy.
The blood drips faster from your nose now, a metallic taste filling your mouth. You swallow it back, “if I can just—if we get back to the ship, I can take care of it.”
Barry’s hand finds its way back into your palm, the other one wiping away the blood that spills over your lip. “She won’t make it that long,” he looks up at Bruce with desperate eyes, “will she?”
Again, he shakes his head.
The drop in morale at that moment is so severe you can feel it, tensions rising around you. It’s only now that the gravity of the situation really settles into your chest.
Fear rises to your throat like bile. You’re going to die here, you’re going to die because you made a stupid mistake. And the only way you can stop it, the only way you can fix yourself, is to strip down in front of your friends—your coworkers—and fuck yourself like an unfixed dog.
“How long does it last?” Your voice sounds weaker now.
“We don’t know,” Hal admits. “From the scan Clark did on you, it could be hours, it could be days.”
Hours. Though you’re practically soaked through with arousal, though your pussy flutters in anticipation, the thought of masturbating with them in the room for hours makes your heart drop.
“I can stay here and you guys go back to the ship and I can meet you there—”
Please, god, do not let me have to touch myself in front of my coworkers.
You’re surprised when it’s not Hal or Bruce that speaks next, it’s Barry. “It doesn’t work like that, does it?”
Spoken like a true scientist.
“It’s for repopulation,” Bruce reiterates. “If you stay here alone, you will die.”
Hal’s eyes find yours from behind his mask. “You feel it, don’t you?” He gestures to the way Barry’s holding you, “the way touch makes the pain go away. The way the pain triples when you try to pull away.”
He speaks on the experience so eloquently, you can’t help but wonder if he’s gone through this before. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t quite read, one beyond the concern. One that looks an awful lot like understanding.
“So…” Clark begins.
“I either have sex with someone, or I die.” You look around the room, at each of the people around you, “it’s not fair. I can’t ask any of you to do that.”
The chorus of voices surprises you, though it probably shouldn’t given who you’re with. “I’ll do it.”
Damn heroes, always trying to rectify situations at the cost of themselves.
“I’d be taking advantage,” you frown, the pain in your stomach starting to come back again. “It’s unfair.”
Diana cups your face, turning your head to face her. “How is it that you’re the one in danger, and yet you’re worried about us?”
The feeling of her fingertips on your skin ignites something in you, simultaneously soothing the pain that lingers at the back of your spine.
You shrug your shoulders. “I just…don’t want any of you to do something you don’t want to.”
Again, they begin to protest, heads shaking at your antics.
Leave it to Hal Jordan to ask the hard questions. “So, who do you want to do it?”
“I—” You suck in a breath, Diana and Barry’s touch not chasing away the pain as well as it was before. “I don’t care, I trust you all. Just don’t let me die. Please.”
Right now, you’re not sure there’s anyone you trust more than the people in the room. You’ve dealt with countless problems by their sides, confided in them about all of your problems, grabbed beers with them after saving the world.
Your trust in them is unshakeable, absolute.
Immediately, the room dissolves into discussion. There’s arguments on who does it, on what they need to do, how careful they need to be. They discuss the possibility of the chemical spreading, of someone else being inflicted. Barry rises to his feet, dropping your hand to join the discussion.
And while the men argue, Diana cups your jaw and pulls you in for a dizzying kiss. Her lips are soft on yours, and despite the blood that’s dried to your own lips, she doesn’t seem to mind.
Her other hand finds the small of your back, drawing shapes over your spine. Her grip on you is strong, reassuring, a total comfort. You fall into her completely, letting her guide you onto your back, the cold metal of the floor staving off some of your heat.
Her tongue swipes across the back of your teeth, that familiar taste of hers filling your mouth. Her other hand trails down to the seam of your pants, dipping inside to rub at your heat.
For a minute, she’s surprised at how wet you are, how swollen your clit already is. But then she pushes past her shock, her thumb rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have wave after wave of ecstasy rolling over you.
She pulls away—just for a second—to pull your pants down to your knees, giving herself easier access to you. Her mouth greedily swallows every moan before it can hit the air, muffling it from the men still arguing around you.
Every touch is intentional, every swish of her tongue in your mouth synchronized with her finger on your clit. You’re sure the drug must be heightening your senses, making you all too sensitive to her touch.
She’s barely slipped a finger inside of you when you’re already coming undone, electricity bolting up your spine as your walls pulse around her finger. The aftershocks of your orgasm chase away the pain, the fear—everything.
"Good girl," she praises. "I'll take care of you."
And then she’s kissing down your chest, lips sucking at your neck. She starts to slowly move her finger inside of you again, her other hand leaving your face to push the fabric of your shirt up. She kisses further down, lips getting closer and closer to where she’s fucking you with her finger.
Just as her mouth attaches to your clit, another finger pushes inside of you. A particularly loud moan slips from your lips and without Diana there to muffle it, the cacophonous arguing stops.
“Holy shit,” Hal breathes, and suddenly you’re way too aware of four sets of eyes watching the two of you.
Diana looks up at you, long lashes framing her eyes. “Let them watch,” she says, “maybe they could learn something.”
Her fingers curl inside of you and you moan again, the sound rattling the room. You arch your back, whining. Your eyes flutter shut, that knot in your stomach building up almost as fast as it did the first time.
Your thighs shake on either side of her head, nails digging into your palms. You try to close your legs but then they’re being forced apart by a pair of floating green hands.
You blink at Hal, who’s since discarded his mask. He grins in return.
And then you’re finishing again, slick coating Diana’s face and tongue as she eats you through it. You can feel their eyes on you even through your orgasm, even as your eyes flutter closed and your muscles all twitch.
Then Diana is pulling her mouth away, taking deep breaths as she gives you a minute of rest. It’s only a minute, but already the pain starts to come back as a dull ache.
“How are you feeling?” Clark asks.
“It’s starting to hurt again…”
He doesn’t ask another question before he’s replacing Diana on the floor in front of you, adjusting his suit until he can free his cock. He’s already somewhat hard—the two of you had put on quite the show.
Clark and Diana’s willingness to fuck you in front of everybody almost has you feeling guilty for your hesitance earlier. You trust these people, you love these people. How could you doubt that?
“Come here,” he opens his arms to you, “I got you.”
And then you’re crawling into his arms, letting him pick you off the floor. With his strength, he does it with ease, slowly lowering you down onto his cock. The minute his head pierces your entrance, you have to bite down on your lip to keep from being too loud.
You take him inch by inch, your body adjusting much more easily than it usually would. Despite your aching need, Clark’s gentle with you. He takes his time, watching every twitch of your body for a sign he should stop.
When you’ve finally taken all of him, the two of you gasp in sync. You wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. He tightens his grips around your thighs and then he’s lifting you up and dropping you back down on his cock.
With every motion, he pierces deeper inside of you. Your walls suck him in, beg him for more, beg him to go deeper. You’re so close to him, you can feel the beat of his heart, hear every tiny hitch in his breath.
He guides you up and down his cock like a toy, and you let him, going boneless in his arms. Lurid sounds leave your lips but you’re long past the point of caring. You drag your hands from his neck down to his back, scratching at his shoulders, though Clark doesn’t seem to mind.
“You’re so warm,” he groans. “So hot.”
Maybe it’s the toxin or your own overstimulation but it only takes a few minutes before you’re finishing again, muscles clenching up, pussy tightening around Clark’s cock like it’s trying to milk him dry. He fixes his lips against yours, bearing your weight completely while you orgasm.
“That’s it. Let it all out, sweetheart.”
It’s only a few more thrusts for Clark before he’s finishing too. Both the heat and the sudden tightness of your walls is too much for him. He presses his hips flush against yours, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as he comes. He fills you up, the warm fluid slowly leaking out of you.
He kisses you again, softly. “Do you need more?”
You feel horribly greedy as you nod your head yes, barely registering what’s happening as Clark passes you to Hal and Bruce.
The two men take you between them, holding you up despite the way your knees shake and threaten to buckle at any second.
Hal pulls you in for a tantalizing kiss. It’s needy and sloppy, punctuated with the desperation he feels after watching you get fucked by his teammates. Bruce’s hands make quick work of your uniform, finishing what Diana had started earlier.
Being free from the fabric cools you down only slightly, the heat from their bodies immediately making up for it. There’s a flash of green light and then there’s a bed only a few feet away from you.
Bruce grabs you, practically throwing you on top of it before the two men and Barry join you.
It’s a blur of hands and lips from there, the three of them somehow wrestling you onto your knees. Bruce is behind you, lining his cock up with your entrance, while Hal and Barry both sit on their knees in front.
Bruce taps your back, just once. "You're still okay?"
You weakly hum in agreement, arching your back to encourage him.
Bruce doesn’t waste a second before he pushes himself inside of you, Clark’s leftover cum acting as lube. Your mouth falls open in a gasp, Barry slipping his fingers inside. You don’t even think, your lips just close around them and you start sucking.
Bruce’s thrusts are aggressive, rocking both you and the bed, sending Barry’s fingers further down your throat. And then he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, your jaw aching at the sudden stretch.
You let your eyes flutter closed, letting the two men use you. Every thrust sends you further against the other, a perfectly choreographed dance between them. One goes deep and sends the other deeper, Bruce’s thick cock filling you so much that it’s hard to breathe.
Meanwhile, Hal rubs the hair away from your face and the sweat away from your forehead. “You’re like a pro,” he jokes. “You’re taking them so well.”
Barry gasps as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. “Fuck, Hal, you gotta try.”
And then they’re switching places, Hal’s cock replacing Barry’s in your mouth, Barry’s lips attacking the side of your neck instead.
Bruce digs his fingers deeper into your hips, fingertips sure to bruise you the next day. He slams himself deeper against you, every thrust punctuated with a cock muffled moan from you.
Barry’s teeth graze the side of your neck, his hand slipping down to rub circles on your clit and that’s all it takes for you to come undone all over again. Your arms shake violently, sending you pitching forward on the bed. Lucky for you, Barry catches your head, keeping you up the best he can while you get spitroasted on their cocks.
Bruce fucks you through your high and then he’s falling apart with you, his cock twitching in your walls. With one final, rough thrust, he pushes himself in balls deep and lets himself cum inside of you.
Hal pulls his cock out of your mouth, letting you breathe freely while you fight the aftershocks of your orgasm.
When you’ve finally come to enough, you blink up at the man. “Want you next,” you declare, “you and Barry.”
And after the show you’ve put on, neither man is in any place to argue. Barry holds you against his chest while Hal moves away, repositioning himself where Bruce was only a minute ago.
Hal helps you move your quivering thighs on either side of Barry’s, grabbing the man’s cock and slipping the head inside of you. Bruce and Clark’s cum drips out, sliding down his shaft and onto his thighs.
Barry’s tip slips inside of you easily, his arms wrapping around your back to hold you still while Hal positions himself. The Lantern grips your hip with one hand and slowly guides his cock to your entrance with the other.
There’s pressure, your aching hole struggling to accommodate both of them, but Hal Jordan is not one to give up.
He rubs a hand up your back, “breathe, baby. Deep breaths.”
You try to do as he says, letting yourself go limp against Barry. With your muscles relaxed, his cock slides inside of you easily. You’re full, so full you can barely move, but fuck it feels so good. That constant gnawing heat that’s been plaguing you dissipates into almost nothing, every thought in your head clears away.
Barry thrusts first and it’s such a tight fit that that alone has your eyes rolling back. Hal goes next, the friction of their cocks inside of you making your mind go blank. They continue in that rhythm, sloppy at first as they try to find a suitable pace.
"F-fuck, it's so tight." Barry curses.
Barry kisses at your cheek, your temple, the side of your head, trying to soothe you as both men fuck into you. Your pussy aches, your walls shaking sheerly from the fullness.
Hal digs his nails into your skin, crescent marks of his fingers matching Bruce’s from only a few minutes ago. His thrusts are frantic and fast and nearly violent, sending you further into Barry’s chest with every single one.
Barry is only slightly better, faster than Hal and just as punishing, but much less desperate.
"That's it, baby," Hal praises. "Let us take care of you."
You let yourself fall against them, let them fuck you while your mind goes entirely blank. That knot inside of you builds and builds and builds, heat radiating from your core until you finally snap and cum.
It’s already a tight fit with both of them inside of you but with your walls clenching up, it’s almost painful. Hal comes first, his cock twitching and filling you up pretty much the second you finish.
Barry’s next, the combined heat of your slick and Hal’s too much for him. He squeezes you tightly against his chest while he finishes inside of you, hot cum filling you to the brim.
You’re left sweaty and gasping, laying against Barry’s chest on the construct bed that Hal made.
Barry kisses the side of your head. “How are you feeling?”
“G-good, I think.”
It’s a few minutes before the three of you untangle from each other, both Hal and Barry climbing off of the bed. Barry offers you a hand, helping you onto your feet and keeping you up despite the exhaustion plaguing your body.
“I-I’m feeling better,” you announce to no one in particular. “Thank you guys for helping.”
“That’s good,” Bruce says, gesturing over his shoulder. “But we have another problem now.”
You squint, following the line his finger points to to see Diana, flushed and naked, and Clark, on his knees and eating her out.
Fuck, you think to yourself. It must have been contagious after all.
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omg okay.. imagine clark x superman fangirl reader where she has no idea about his real identity and she’s always blabbering on abt how much she admires superman and clark is always so turned on over this
clark kent x fem!reader
a/n: this idea is so fucking cute. i might have written it fluffier than you wanted, but thank you so much for sending omg <3 just for context, reader also works at the daily planet
your hand is interlaced with his, swinging back and forth as you walk along the dark metropolis sidewalk. stars shine in the sky above your heads as a gentle breeze blows over your shoulders.
the two of you are reaching the end of your third date. a date which, by clark's standards, went perfectly. he just has to stick the landing; finish walking you home and kiss you goodnight. it should be easy enough. you're in a good mood and your apartment is only another block away.
but then you let out a little sigh and look up towards the vast array of constellations. "you're so lucky, clark," you say.
he gives your hand a small squeeze. "and why's that? because i get to spend my evening with you?" he asks, that charming smile of his accompanying the statement.
you playfully scoff and swat his arm. "no, dummy. it's cause you get to interview superman."
"ah. superman," he says. he tries his best to hide how his smile becomes smug.
"yeah, superman," you pout. "you get to interview him like all the time. what do i get at work? school board meetings. budget proposals. it's all so boringgggg."
he laughs softly, tugging you a little closer by the hand. "that stuff is important, you know."
"it's lame!" you insist.
you drag your feet while walking to display your frustration, tilt your head even further towards the sky as if that's where the more interesting story would be. and really, if he wasn't on this date with you right now, it actually would be there.
"i don't care about that stuff," you continue. "no one wants to read about it. everyone wants to read about superman! and i wanna read about superman. i wanna write about him and interview him and talk to him..."
"careful," clark cuts in. "you keep talking like that, and i'll start to think you're wishing he was on this date instead of me."
you roll your eyes and step even closer, tucking yourself under his big arm against his side.
"i'd never wish that," you say softly. "he's just... he's like larger than life, you know? he's the biggest story of our time and he's just out of my reach. it drives me crazyyyy."
you are driving clark crazy. this isn't the first time he's heard one of your little super-tangents, but it is the first time he's found it this alluring. it's almost as if he's seeing himself through another pair of eyes. an adoring pair at that.
it's a good thing your apartment is in view. if things continued like this for much longer, it'd be hard for clark to leave you for the night.
"well if it means that much to you, i'll put in a good word," he says.
"would you really?!" you say, looking up at him as though he'd just promised you a million dollars.
"yeah really. it's no big deal," he says.
and now you're looking at clark as if he's wearing the red and blue right before your eyes. you squeeze him even tighter, mumbling "you're the best" against his dress shirt.
a few paces later, the pair of you have reached the steps of your building. you smile up at him, all twinkling eyes and sparkly lipgloss.
"i had fun tonight," he tells you quietly.
"me too," you say in return.
and then you kiss him. you rise onto your toes and wrap your arm around his neck and kiss him. it feels like a reward, and it probably is at least a little. a thank you for his kindness about superman. if only you knew how easy that was for him.
but you would know, he promised himself that. you would know, probably sooner rather than later. for someone as into superman as you were, all it would take was one look at him without his glasses. and at this rate, if you kept acting so sweet, it wouldn't take too much longer for you to see him like that.
You're curled under the covers, screen glowing in your face, finger mid-scroll. Clark shifts beside you, already in his usual sleeping position: one arm tucked under his head, the other reaching for you blindly like a sleepy sea creature.
"Baby," he mumbles, voice low and warm from sleep. "Put the phone down."
"In a sec," you murmur. "Just one more thing."
“Mhm.” He doesn’t believe you. He never does.
Instead of arguing, he does what he always does — rolls over slowly and wraps himself around you like a human weighted blanket. Big chest pressed to your back. One leg thrown over yours. A soft kiss behind your ear.
“Five more minutes,” you promise.
Clark lets out the smallest dramatic sigh. “That’s what you said twelve scrolls ago.”
You snort. “Are you counting now?”
“Yes,” he says. “Because I’m being ignored. Neglected. Replaced by a tiny glowing rectangle.”
He nuzzles into your neck like a needy puppy. “I’m cold. And alone. And possibly dying.”
“You’re 6'4" and 200 pounds of cuddle,” you giggle, leaning into him.
“Exactly,” he says, smug now. “You’re lucky I haven’t suffocated you with affection yet.”
With that, he gently but firmly grabs your phone and sets it on the nightstand. The room dims immediately, leaving only the soft yellow hue of your bedside lamp.
“Hey!” you whine.
“No more blue light, sweetheart. It’s time for cuddles.”
And then he tucks you into him. Tight. Chin over your shoulder, arms around your belly, one hand petting slow, sleepy circles into your hip.
“See?” he whispers. “Way better than doomscrolling.”
You huff, but you’re already melting. The warmth of him, the rhythm of his breath, the safety of his arms — it’s your favorite place on Earth.
“You’re annoying,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
“I’m Mr. Bedtime,” he corrects, smiling against your skin.
You roll your eyes. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.”
And before you can argue, he whispers:
“Sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”
You fall asleep five minutes later. Phone forgotten. Heart full. Clark already snoring softly into your hair like the big bedtime menace he is.
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Maybe we should be a bit more careful on who we support and are mutuals with (You know who this is about lmao).
There's so much more weirder shit they've said over the months (Your not the only one who has had to fight for their rights, and it doesn't excuse your weird ass behavior ♡).
EDIT!: You know, instead of actually apologizing or admitting they fucked up, they decided to delete their blog.
EDIT 2!: I just want to make it clear that the dark fiction they wrote wasn't the problem (I'm also a fan of dark fiction, straight up "dead dove; do not eat" territory, noncon, incest, and kidnapping type of stuff), it was the weird shit they had been spewing for MONTHS on end. If you think the stuff you see in the screenshots is bad, you should've seen the other shit they had said.
(Their other accounts were/are chewii-404, crybabyx3, strxxis, and fluffram. Running away isn't going to make it dissappear lmao).
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