#possessive!reader

thinking of…

clark kent (attempting to) seduce possessive!reader after a fight !

tw: nudity, language, mentions of sexual activity but not detailed, one flirty comment towards clark from someone other than reader… reader is not trying to be mean, they’re just overwhelmed, and #everyonestaresatclarkinthisone ! this isn’t MDNI, but rather a ‘minors, practice discretion!’ also i haven’t seen david’s superman so im trying my best to make it accurate so pls don’t hate me🥹

clark kent was known for being a fixer. even outside of his persona as superman, clark always lent a helping hand to those in need. he can’t remember how many times he swooped in to help his dad with the hay bales, or how often clark reread articles from a few interns to catch any grammar mistakes. so, following this argument with you— the love of his life— clark is stumped. how does he fix this?

it all started last night when the two of you decided to eat out for dinner instead of staying in. some new restaurant that had a lot of good reviews, but was garnering a reputation for being a college kid hotspot. clark, always the optimist, made an effort to encourage you. “if you don’t want to go, that’s totally fine! there isn’t any pressure. however, i do know that you’ve been talking about wanting to try new things and this is an opportunity to have a meal that doesn’t use an air fryer.” clark can tell that it worked, as you gave him a pointed look before standing up and muttering something about fixing your hair really quick.

initially, everything was fine! there wasn’t a crowd of college kids packing into the restaurant, and you’d ventured out of your comfort zone to order a salmon dish; which you don’t normally eat because ‘it feels like rubber.’ then, it commences. there’s nothing but overflow of bodies clad in jerseys and edikted jeans, and you are all but itching to leave. once again, clark takes charge of the situation and finds his way to the host stand in order to communicate with someone about getting the check.

his pleas are lost in a sea of chatter, as the hostess seems to be distracted by talking with one of her friends. clark cranes his neck to look at you, immediately landing on your frowning face and he can tell that your patience is wearing thin. he nods at you, before facing forward again and does his best to ask for the check. ‘hm, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?’ you had left the table in hopes of helping clark, but it’s like you walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. clark, with reddened cheeks, places a hand on the small of your back to comfort you. the check is swiftly taken care of after a steely glare from you, and you’re off.

entering the apartment is what sets you off. “sweetie, i’m sorry, i didn’t know that it would be so-” “can’t have anything fuckin’ nice! the salmon wasn’t even that good, and of course, everyone’s always pawing at you… just wish we would’ve stayed home.”

it breaks clark’s soft heart. you’d seemed happy at the dinner, eating your salmon and falling into conversation with him just like you did at home. clark leaned over to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the chaos of nineteen year olds with fake ids. but, he felt your hand press against his chest. you were blocking him. you shake your head, “clarkie… i don’t wanna hug right now. ‘m just gonna get ready for bed.” as you’d spun on your heel to storm into the bathroom, clark’s arms fell by his sides.

you made a boundary and he respected it, but it still stung. clark truly didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to go. and the comment from that college girl definitely didn’t help the situation, either. he just wanted you to branch out, which you mentioned to him early on in the relationship. sighing, clark sits on the couch and rests his head in his hands. there’s a rational part of him that knows it’s not his fault, yet the fixer in him, the superman in him, feels different.

the following day was normal enough. you kissed his cheek when you woke up, straightened his tie before he left. but, clark could still feel the tension hanging in the air. upon his arrival to the office, clark is quick to say his ‘good mornings’ to everyone, not realizing how stressful his day would be.

his lunch break doesn’t come around until 3:45, close enough to 5:00 that he knows he won’t be hungry. sat at his desk, clark munches on a sandwich that didn’t have enough mustard and then sips on his now cold coffee. he isn’t a big social media guy, but clark does take the time to scroll through instagram reels in an attempt to find something that could make up for last night’s shitty dinner. just when clark is about to call it quits, he stumbles upon some influencer couple and their video.

‘my bf’s reaction to seeing me naked after an argument!’ is the caption. the girl, remarkably blonde from the profile picture, is off-camera as she approaches her boyfriend in their kitchen. she made an apology, then asks him to turn around and look at her. that it would make him ‘feel better.’ the guy— built like him but not as tall— does as asked and immediately, his eyes go wide. the video cuts after some laughs of disbelief, and mutter from the guy about ‘getting her ass in the bedroom.’

huh. that’s an… odd concept. but, by the looks of it, it proved to be a good idea. clark’s face goes beet red at the thought of going home, surprising you with him cooking dinner and he’s bare. it’s not inherently sexual, yet it’s intimate. then, doubt seeps into his mind. you probably would think that it’s stupid, or you’d scoff at his inability to not take things to heart before kissing it away. clark sets aside his dry sandwich, wiping at his top lip and leans back in his spinny chair.

he could take the more mature route, sit you down and lay his heart at your feet. or, he could do that. either way, clark kent knew that he didn’t have anything to lose. and, who could say that clark was ‘vanilla’ after that?! the timer on his phone chimes, and his break is up. there wouldn’t be any time to ponder over it, especially not with a deadline coming up. so, clark takes a deep breath and tries to weigh his options.

cooking without any clothes on is not an easy task. the little zaps of oil spraying from the pan shock clark, and even if it wouldn’t really hurt, he’s still doing his best to keep his hips from being flush against the stove. clark feels exposed. even in the comfort of the apartment he shares with you, he feels like he’s being watched. it certainly wasn’t you, considering that you wouldn’t be home until after 6:30, and it just hit five after 6.

upon hearing your keys jingle in the door, clark tenses. “oh gosh, what am i doing?” he mutters, pursing his lips together in discomfort. the door opens, and clark moves to flex his muscles— baring his naked shoulders and back towards you.

you walk in, immediately ripping your blazer off and you hear clark in the kitchen. he’s humming something, but there’s no way of knowing what it actually is; due to the sizzling of a pan on the stove. unbeknownst to you, clark had a tough day, too. every email was answered with no real substance, and you trudged around the office with slumped shoulders. the dinner hadn’t been clark’s fault, and you felt so incredibly awful for pinning it all on him. and to deny your man a hug? despicable.

you didn’t expect to walk into the kitchen and be met with clark’s bare ass. no sweats, no undies, nothing. not even his socks! your eyes blow wide, beginning to stammer as clark turns to face you. (it, admittedly, was difficult to not look any further past his v-line.) “uh, hey, baby. why exactly are you naked?” you ask, a brow quirking upward in confusion. clark extends his arms outward in a ‘what can i say?’ manner that makes your knees weak. it’s paired with the fact that clark kept the glasses on. holy fuck.

even with the glasses and the surprise nonchalance, clark remains true to his nature. his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush, and clark moves to approach you tentatively. kinda like a fawn trying to walk across a frozen pond. “hi, sweetie! i, um, wanted to surprise you.” “by cooking in our kitchen buck naked? that is… certainly a choice.”

his hands rest on his hips, “okay, so maybe it isn’t my brightest idea yet, but… oh, wait! give me one second to turn the stove off. i do not want to burn the house down.” clark spins around, and once more, you’re met with his bare ass. if chris evans was america’s ass, clark kent is the globe’s ass. it takes a millisecond before clark is back in front of you, his hands traveling from his sides to rest on the backs of your arms. god, you can feel the embarrassment radiating from clark. it could always just be the alien temperature of his skin that’s making you feel warm, or maybe it’s because clark doesn’t have any clothes on.

“honey, i feel awful about last night. i hate that i made you feel like you had to go. you know that i would never try to push anything on you like that, and i’m so sorry that it turned out like it did. a-and, as for me having no clothes on, i, uh, saw some reel of this lady who did this for her boyfriend after an argument. my logic was ‘if it worked for her, why wouldn’t it work for me?’ stupid idea.”

if clark was human, he’d be breathless. seriously, everything just spewed out of him like that one scene from harry potter where someone throws up slugs. but, clark picks up on how your heart skips a beat. he catches the way your lips slowly curve into a smile, and how he can feel you inching closer to him. then, clark is met with the terrifying thought of how awful it would be to pop a boner this very second. you finally relent, “it’s not your fault, baby. i shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and i’m sorry. and you can’t help that you’re so handsome. and it’s not stupid, it just… caught me off guard.”

clark hasn’t ever been this happy to receive one of your kisses— quietly domineering yet gentle enough to make him, the strongest man in the world, buckle at his knees. he pulls away from you with a hum, tracing a heart shape into your temple. “does this mean my attempt at seducing you is working?”

you laugh, and clark kent swears he could die right here. even without any clothes to shield him from the paramedics once they come to collect his body. the kitchen light catches the gleam in your eyes perfectly, while you shuffle slightly to stand parallel to the stove. “how about we eat first, and then we can work on your technique in the shower?” clark breaks into a grin, before scurrying back over to the stove and getting back to work. your man, always the fixer.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ac speaks!

clark kent is acc my babygirl and he can do no wrong💋💋

thinking of…

possessive!reader having a smackdown with one of paul’s exes!

tw: language, reader has thoughts of extreme physical violence, sexual references, and paul lahote being absolutely and utterly in love <33

to put it plain— paul lahote is a manwhore. the rez’s so-called bad boy, paired with an insatiable smile and biceps that could literally crush you. so, it isn’t a surprise that paul is constantly being stopped outside of the only gas station by an old fling, or basically forced into joining an ex for a conversation with her newfound college friends. at first, he didn’t necessarily mind; it was all in good fun and paul isn’t an asshole. then? he imprints, and paul would rather go as far as to reject the imprint and confine himself in a cave than do anything like that around you.

you are… unsettling, to say the least. the type to hover paul wherever you go. quil says that you keep him on a ‘short leash,’ and even though he received a swift punch to the jaw for it, he isn’t wrong. paul, while obviously handsome, is more than that. you notice how ex girlfriends gaze at him, as if he’s some kind of god who chose to spend his precious time with them. they don’t know his soul, his innermost thoughts and how dare they look at him with such adoration? they don’t know him, not like you do. call it jealousy or outright lunacy, but you know that it isn’t fair.

it’s some birthday celebration for billy black, and by imprint law, you’re required to go. even if you weren’t, no one knows how to handle a camera like you and it would warm billy’s heart if he had some pictures of him with his longtime friends and his children.

so, here you are— shuffling around billy’s backyard with your canon, switching between auto and manual focus because one setting worked for some, not all. paul, on the other hand, is being sucked into conversation with sweet seth clearwater, the most sunshiny kid you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. just as you move to get a shot of sam and emily tending to the bonfire, you see her.

grace or gracie, you’re not entirely sure what she goes by. but, you know who she is, what she was to paul. his longest fling ever, outweighing the slight stint between him and billy’s second daughter, rachel. immediately, you feel a sense of unease. of course she deserved to be here; everyone on the rez was invited. besides, billy black wasn’t a cold man, even extending an invitation to the swan girl. (she declined, but did send a gift for him along with her dad.) but still. maybe your eyes were deceiving you, but you could swear that she kept glancing over at paul and seth, before quickly returning to her cluster of friends.

even with the heat radiating from the bonfire, you shiver involuntarily. gnawing at your lip, you push away that sinking sensation of jealousy and search for another subject. “christ, ms. clearwater is now in billy’s lap. definitely need to mark that as evidence.” a laugh escapes you, moving the camera up to your eye and looking through the lens. before you can adjust the focus and press down, a figure blocks your viewpoint of the pair.

she’s wearing purple. paul claims that he doesn’t have a favorite color, but you know all too well the way his hands wander even more when you wear purple. lavender, lilac, a redder version of indigo. it doesn’t matter. you wonder if she wore it for him. if he ever did the same with her.

“hey! you’re y/n, right? i’m gracie, it’s nice to finally meet you.” she asks, lips glossy and hair falling in perfect layers across her shoulders. you catch the way gracie added extra pressure to ‘finally’, as if you’re some baseless myth. it’s not like you’re some troll that hides under a bridge. your dominant hand grips at the camera, “yeah, ‘m y/n. nice to meet you, too.” just as you shift to step around her, in hopes that ms. clearwater is still sprawled across billy’s lap, gracie moves with you.

‘first, you stare at my boyfriend and now you’re blocking my shot?’ the thought disappears as quick as it arrives, and you struggle to keep a straight face. there’s a rational part of you that wants to defend her; that maybe she didn’t do it intentionally. maybe she does just want to speak with you. gracie lifts her drink to her lips, “so, you’re paul’s new thing, huh? he can be such a sweetie when he wants to be! but, the whole rugged thing works for him, don’t ya think?”

this is a test. this has to be a test because there’s no way. rugged? paul’s a shapeshifter, sure, but he’s not bear fuckin’ grylls. he’s a secret comic book nerd, he listens to lady gaga, and his favorite bodywash is called ‘autumn leaves!’ you huff, “yeah, i guess. i mean, it’s not what i like him for, but i see the appeal.” her eyes flicker with something unreadable— disbelief, perhaps disgust? you aren’t sure. truth be told, you really don’t care.

paul entirely zoned out of his talk with seth, considering that quil now joined and the two of them never stop running their fuckin’ mouths. seth’s a nice kid, so is quil, but god damn, paul lahote is not good with noise. sighing, his eyes begin to search for you, who’s been too busy with being the cutest photographer he’s ever seen to actually hang out. paul does a double take once he finally looks up from your ass. oh, no.

“lemme guess, is it his hands? he’s really good with ‘em, fixed up my beetle more than once. i love a guy like that, all big and strong and can handle that kinda thing.” gracie snickered. you’ve long forgotten gripping onto your camera, the connecting strap allowing it to weigh on your neck and for you to clench your fists. ‘ma’am, i will beat you to death with this damn camera and then take a picture with your blood still stuck on the lens.’

paul stills for a moment. your jaw’s tight, you’ve got that look on your face that scares him and turns him on. he knows he should step in, waver gracie off and placate you from doing anything irrational. but, when has paul lahote ever done anything to prevent chaos?

her smirk is unrelenting. chasing you like a dog after a bone— don’t you want it? c’mon, work a little harder. show me what ya got. if gracie wants to mention your boyfriend’s perfect hands all over her dumbass beetle, she can. your eyes squint at her, “yeah, paul’s good with his hands. he uses ‘em to keep a grip on me when i ride him every night. i love a guy like that, all demanding, y’know?”

that stupid, smug smile of hers drops. clearly, gracie whatever wasn’t expecting you to be so forward, or to use her own mocking words against her. especially not at billy black’s birthday party, with tribal elders and kids running amuck. however, you’re nothing if not petty. “go ahead and find someone else to rave about my boyfriend’s hands with. cause after this? ‘m gettin’ the real shit.” you answer, as you briskly move past her and off towards something more valuable. you cannot confirm or deny if you shoulder-check gracie as you walk away.

before you know it, the festivity is long over with; as billy waves everyone off while jacob wheels him inside. for the entire ride home, all paul spoke of was how much he wanted to throttle quil while he talked with seth. no mention of your pettiness whatsoever. you hope paul didn’t notice. it wasn’t your proudest moment at all, especially since you felt gracie and her friends stare you down, but quickly look away once they realized you were watching them.

paul’s room is silent. you’re collapsed against his bare chest, savoring the supernatural warmth of his skin and tracing shapes over his sternum. paul works over your back with one hand, while the other focuses on stroking at your temple. “saw you talkin’ with gracie. wanna tell me what that was about?” his normally gruff voice held a tender tone, like he wasn’t accusing you of anything. you groan, “i dunno what you’re talking about, babe. i don’t recall meeting a gracie.” the laughter in his chest rumbles you, as you shift to where your chin is almost flat against him.

“c’mon, sweetheart. i saw you two. looked like you were gonna sink some teeth in her. not that i’d care. jus’ don’t want my baby to get arrested.” paul teases— propping himself up slightly and forcing you along with him. you feel like you’re in the matrix. presented with two pills. being honest with yourself and your boyfriend, even if it’s embarrassing, or keeping it quiet. though, you doubt that it hasn’t spread by now. if not? paul and the pack will know by tomorrow morning. “…fine, you sexy guilt-tripper! she came up to me, and was all like ‘oh, paul’s so sweet when he wants to be’ and ‘he’s so good with his hands!’ so, i might’ve said that you’re very good with your hands, especially when you use them to help me ride your dick.”

for a split second, you wondered if you overstepped. if you were too mean and that you shouldn’t have done it at billy’s birthday. paul’s lips quirk up in a toothy grin, before he tugs you closer by the jaw and kisses you. it isn’t as teasing as it normally is, but it still has that same passion. his hands, the hot topic of tonight’s discussion, rest at the base of your throat, and you almost whine at the sensation.

when paul finally breaks the kiss off, there’s a sheen on his lips from your own saliva. it sounds disgusting, but it’s a reminder that he’s yours, you’re his. hand-picked for him by his ancestors. “you’re so hot. ‘m serious. i’ve never been with someone so mean. usually, it’s me who’s acting like a dick.” he responds, almost breathless despite having superior lung strength. you want to pout, to defend your honor because you’re not mean. you just like to keep what belongs to you close. yet, you can’t. because paul’s sitting here, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only star in the sky. like he couldn’t fathom being apart from you.

“definitely not a shining example of my character. but, i don’t really care. you’re mine. and if it wasn’t for your freaky shapeshifter healing, everyone would know it, too!” you declare. paul laughs again, and he suddenly gets this intense gleam in his eyes. that is never a good sign. paul shrugs his shoulders, “i mean… we’ve got all night, baby. i can put these hands of mine to work. see if we can find a way.”

on second thought, that look in his eyes is a good sign.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ac speaks!

introducing…

possessive!reader 📷🗝️🕷️

(their vibe ^^)

synopsis:

definitely worked on yearbook in high school so they could stalk the other students without drawing any negative attention. totes around a camera like they’re a cameraman on a reality show. they’re the type to pine over someone for months, even years, and their love only grows stronger once they finally land the object of their affection. they have the same mentality as an only child being forced to share their toys at daycare— it’s simply not happening.

it truly comes from a good place. reader isn’t dangerous or violent, just… greedy, in a way. their partner is really all they have to themselves, so it’s hard to see them engage with others. there’s some deep-rooted insecurities that hinder reader from forming multiple connections with people, preferring to stick to the fictional versions in their head. once they enter their relationship, it betters. reader is lost, drowning in their own thoughts and it can be hard to come up for air. their partner is a lifeline, both literally and metaphorically. besides, it’s not like they’re a stalker or anything!

best pairings for possessive!reader:

sarah cameron! she’s the kook princess, a girl whose life is always overrun by frat boys with egos to match. she thinks it’s endearing— how overprotective you get and she makes sure to shower you with extra affection whenever you’re in a ‘mood.’ the type of girlfriend to ditch whatever plans she has with the pogues so you can take pictures of her for instagram or for personal reasons…expect endless pet names and lingering touches that make you feel like you’re never truly alone.

paul lahote! he’s certainly met his match with you; his steely imprint who gets a little impatient whenever an ex-fling stops him in the grocery store or outside of a coffee shop. the pack teases him relentlessly, always muttering about how poor paul can’t do anything fun without his bodyguard tagging along. it’s all in good taste, yet paul tries his hardest to alleviate any doubt you might have about his love for you. (side note: he thinks you’re really hot when you’re mad.)

emily fields! em, despite being known as the sweetheart of the liars, did have a roster at one point. everyone wouldn’t mind cozying up to the girl next door, and it only amplifies your protective nature. she’s always got a hand on you— either on your waist or its clasped together in yours. she pokes fun at the way you linger in the hallways after her swim practice, especially with -A running around, yet emily feels like you’re the only person who looks out for her. she treasures each photo you give her, and her mom definitely keeps some up on the fridge!

jeremy gilbert! jere, not exactly known for his critical thinking skills, finds himself in situations where he’s stuck. all he has to do is send a quick ‘SOS’ to you, and you’re halfway to where he’s at. you’re almost guard-like in your nature, immediately stepping in between jeremy and whoever has a problem. sure, it’s landed you in times where you’re face-to-face with damon or the evil kol mikaelson, but you don’t care. jeremy likes to sketch you whenever he can, and keeps his lockscreen as a picture of you so he knows who’s waiting for him at home.

haley james! tutor girl has this effortless ability to make anyone feel special, and that interests multiple people, like chris keller. you balance each other out, even if haley’s quick to buck up if someone gets too mouthy. you spend most of your afternoons at karen’s— where you sit at the bar and peer over at haley whenever she’s been at a table for too long. she’ll usually take whatever tip she receives and spends it on you; whether it’s a new SD card for your camera or saving it for a tattoo of your handwriting across her lower back!

isaac lahey! the kid’s got baggage, lots of freezer-burnt baggage that you don’t seem to mind carrying. he’s a consistent model for your shots, and isaac has mentioned more than once that he doesn’t mind being in the nude. pack business hinders the relationship somewhat, because isaac doesn’t want you anywhere near the supernatural shit but you don’t back down. even all-powerful peter hale gets a little uneasy whenever you’re around— glaring at whoever even so much as brushes up against isaac. the only downside to werewolf healing? the marks you leave fade quick, and it’s now a daily task.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ac speaks!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content (oral, riding, unprotected), jealous!reader but make it hot, possessive smut and marking, mild dom/sub energy, strong language, one very public ass slap, Bucky being smug and wrecked, Sam walks in and regrets everything, smutty fluff and petty humor

----------

You didn’t mean to snoop. Really. You had just opened your phone to check your texts and somehow wound up in a rabbit hole of TikToks tagged #BuckyBarnes. You weren’t even sure how the algorithm knew you were dating him—Bucky didn’t exactly broadcast his private life—but damn if it hadn’t caught on.

And now you were ten videos deep, eyes twitching as another thirst trap played.

This one was a slo-mo montage of Bucky training at the gym, sweat slicked and shirtless, hair tied back and metal arm flexing with every rep. Set to some sultry R&B track, naturally. The comments were even worse:

“i would let him RUIN my life.” “metal arm? yes pls.” “why is this man not illegal.” “he’s got big ‘I can rearrange your guts’ energy 😩”

Your jaw clenched.

like obviously she doesn't indulge them but MY GOD !!

ty for the tag @wannab-urs and @iamasaddie . No pressure tags @covetyou @beefrobeefcal @walkintotheriveranddisappear @umnitsa @gracieispunk and anyone else who wants.

these are so rough. idk if it'll be out this wk because I took another detour and wrote some PWP that's sitting in my drafts 🤡 Little glimpse of that at the bottom.

Everyone is quiet until you break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No, you didn’t.”  Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were back there.” 

She raises her eyebrows, bemused.  “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of’m.” She nods to her right. So they're siblings, you hate her.

“Where,” Joel asks with a hardened face, glancing at Carter. You wish Joel wouldn’t speak to her at all. 

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. Joel doesn't respond. 

After a moment, Carter mumbles, “Thanks.”

Jill's gaze lingers on Joel.  He and Carter exchange a glance, then Joel sits back, crosses his arms, and looks at the fire. You scoot closer to him. His biceps bulge as he tucks his hands under them. She brazenly checks him out. You look directly at her, but she doesn't take her eyes off Joel. Your heart races. Joel glances at you and does a double take at your face.

-------------

PWP Drabble

"not really doing anything," you claim. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then tilts his head at the book on the floor. "just stretching,” you add.

“Mm,” his head tilts back. “look good doin’ it,” he murmurs and adjusts himself. Your eyes fall on his bulge for a moment and your chest flutters. You wet your lips and glance around. You look down at the carpet, then tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. He gives a simple nod that says, for the love of God, keep going.

------------