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eviesaurusrex · 7 days ago

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baby, you're all that i want

summary: clark misunderstands a phone call and thinks his world might be ending. it isn't.

word count: 1.2k

author's note: is this an old school trope? yes. was it perhaps overdone? maybe. do i care? absolutely not. what can i say, i like to make men cry a little. let me live. i hope you like it <3

The wind bites into Clark’s skin, just a little. He doesn’t mind it. After all, he’s on his way home, on his way to you, and he would do anything for that.

He hasn’t seen you in far too long, and he’s almost nervous. His stomach flutters with butterflies he hasn’t felt since way back when, when you had first gotten together. He’d spent a beat too long changing before he’d left Washington. He had considered his hair–curly, windswept. He had thought about his shirt–an older flannel, but soft, one you love.

Besides, the pair of you have plans–dinner, flowers in his fist.

And, he hopes kisses, lots of them. He’s daydreaming about cuddling–you curled up next to him, bedsheets that smell like you surrounding him, your soft hands scratching patterns along his back–when his phone rings.

He smiles when he sees it’s you. He takes it, though he’s at an elevation that he probably shouldn’t have cell service anyway.

“Hi, baby.” There’s a grin in his voice, he can’t help it.

He misses you. Desperately. It makes him feel impossibly soft.

“Hi.” He can hear the smile in your own voice, and it warms something in him despite the cool air. “Where are you?”

“Close,” he says. “Maybe twenty minutes.”

“Great.” There’s a beat and then “–almost ready…done when you…”

He tilts his head. “What?”

“Dinner,” you start, “…ready…miss…”

“Baby, I can’t hear you.”

There’s a beat before, “must be…think…breaking up…can’t anymore…”

Clark’s heart stutters in his chest. There’s wind in his ears, but he’s sure of what you just said, still he asks.

“What?”

Then, again, you rip his world off it’s axis. “…breaking up…get home…”

Then, a click, and nothing.

Clark stalls in the sky, nearly drops the flowers. Everything seems to slow–time, his feelings. His ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton, his skin seems to burn.

Breaking up? You’re breaking up with him? On the phone?

He waits for his phone to ring again, for you to say you made a terrible mistake. He waits for you to tell him to come home, promise hugs and love and that you’d make him forget you ever said you didn’t want him anymore.

You didn’t want him anymore.

It’s ridiculous, he knows that. You’d never been careless with his heart before. But the silence stings. The last words echo.

It feels impossibly real.

He holds the flowers, still careful, still gentle, but with less joy. Eventually, he starts to fly again. Unsure what else to do, he keeps heading for home.

Well, maybe not home, not now. Maybe just to you.

He lands softly on your fire escape, slips in through your window in the way he always does.

Always did.

It’s cold inside, not in temperature, but in anticipation. He braces himself. The air feels heavier than it did a minute ago, like it knows something he doesn’t.

He hears you in the kitchen, spoons rattling in pots like dinner still matters.

Maybe, to you, it does.

He carries the flowers with him towards the sound of you, figures he can at least give them to you before he goes.

He stands in the doorway for a beat too long, just looks at you. He tries to commit you to memory–like he hasn’t done it a thousand times before. But, this is different. This is the last time. The thought makes something bubble up in his throat, a sad little noise burst out.

You turn, grin at him in a way that makes no sense. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi,” he mumbles. Then, quickly, like he has to run away. “I bought you these.” He gestures with the flowers. “I thought…I thought you might like them,” he finishes, quietly.

You quirk a brow, but don’t push. “Thank you. That was really sweet.” You reach out, take the flowers, press a kiss to his lips that almost makes him cry. Clark waits while you put them in a vase with water, like something important.

He watches you. The curve of your shoulders, the way you hum to yourself when you’re focused, the gentle care you use even with something as simple as flowers. It hurts. It all hurts.

When you finish, he clears his throat. “I’ll be going then.”

“What?”

He only shakes his head, trying so hard not to break down. Not before he can get out of here.

You step closer, into his space. “We were going to have dinner.” Sensing something is wrong, in the way you always do, you hook a finger under his chin, bring his eyes back to yours.

“What is it?”

Clark bites his lip, tries desperately to keep it in.

But, just like always, he can’t. Not with you.

Quietly, he says, “You broke up with me.”

Your mouth drops open. It opens and closes a few times, like you’re trying to find words that won’t come.

Then, you bite your lip. Like you’re holding in a laugh.

He steps back a bit, huffs. “You don’t have to laugh at me just because you don’t want me anymore.” Then, lower, “I don’t find it all that funny.”

You step forward instantly. “No, Clark.” Your hands find his chest, settle there with a gentle pressure. Grounding. “That’s not what happened at all.”

“Sure what it sounded like,” he mumbles.

“The call,” you start, “the call dropped. We didn’t have good service. I said the call was breaking up. Not us.”

He only looks at you.

You step further into his space, and he lets you. Gently, your hand brushes along his jaw, curls around his cheek.

“I’d never do that to you,” you murmur. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I wouldn’t leave you. Especially not like that.”

Clark breathes out, a shudder more than a sigh. Slowly, the tension that had wound itself into his shoulders as he flew home unwinds.

Tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, like he can’t hold them back any longer. He surges forward, cheeks wet, and wraps his arms around you.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, hands scratching up and down his back.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers. “And, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Never,” you murmur. “You’re stuck with me.”

A laugh bursts free before he can stop it. He squeezes you tighter.

Finally, when his eyes dry and his heart feels less like it’s in pieces in his chest, he murmurs, “Can we still eat dinner?”

You laugh, press a kiss to his skin. “Of course we can.”

You pull away, wrap your hand around his, lead him to the table.

“Do I still get points for bringing flowers?”

You stop, turn on your heel. “Yes. Bonus for emotional devastation.” You kiss him, something soft and kind and the sort of thing he wants for the rest of his life.

He holds your hand a little tighter.

“I’m glad I still get to come home to you,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Me, too.” You smile. Then, serious, “Forever.”

Clark grins, slow and lazy. That word–forever–settles into his chest like a heartbeat.

And this time, when he sits beside you, when he feels the warmth of your arm against his, the soft laughter as the pair of you eat, he knows exactly what home means.

You. Here. This.

Forever.

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eviesaurusrex · 7 days ago

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SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THUNDERBOLTS*

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eviesaurusrex · 7 days ago

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You better call Bucky with the good hair.

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eviesaurusrex · 8 days ago

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Take Care

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: Now that Sam is Captain America, being his childhood best friend brings you into the spotlight and makes you a good bargaining piece. Sam won't settle for you ever being in danger so he asks you to stay protected...but not by him.

Author's Note: I recently heard "I will always love you," by Whitney Houston on my playlist and it made me think of bodyguard!Bucky. While it isn't official in this story he is keeping us safe and protected so it's the same idea. I just love him being a bad ass but also soft for the girl he wants. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angst over being in a dangerous situation, flirty fun, sexual tension, fluff, Alpine being cute, Bucky being gorgeous, some curses, fingering, smut, p in v (wrap it before you tap it friends- except in fanfic HA!)

“SAM! This is…is…ridiculous! I’m a grown woman!”

Sam shakes his head before he drops his eyes to the ground, staring at his feet as if they’ll provide the answers he needs.

“You don’t think I know that?” he replies softly. “But I can’t be here all the time…can’t be watching your back every second. And after what happened…”

You absentmindedly wrap your arms around yourself at the mention of your near abduction last week, the threat still lingering in your everyday existence.

“I want to move on,” you whisper. “Just live my life.”

“I know. But how can you expect me to just be ok with you being in danger, especially when it’s my fault!”

“It’s not your fau…” you start but he cuts you off.

“I…I need you to do this…for me.”

You meet Sam’s pleading eyes and your shoulder sag under their weight. “Fine! But he better not give me any trouble. I want him to be invisible.”

Finally Sam smiles, his wide grin lighting up his face and making it hard for your own not to tug at the corners of your mouth.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you tell him as you walk toward his waiting open arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I promise he’ll take care of you and keep you safe.”

“Ok,” you mumble into his shirt, squeezing him tightly.

Sitting at the small table in the back of the cafe you keep your eyes on Sam while he waits in line for your coffees. For all you know Bucky could be in here already, unseen to the untrained eye. You scan your surroundings, but you don’t see anyone who resembles him.

Sam finishes up at the register and heads your way, setting your drink down in front of you and sitting with a smile.

“He’s not here yet. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

You give him a nonchalant shrug. “I know what he looks like from seeing him on TV and all that. I just thought maybe he was blending in.”

Before Sam can crack a joke on Bucky’s behalf, the chime over the door sounds and he comes into view. You don’t know what detail to take in first. His towering build: broad shoulders, thick arms, long legs-all wrapped in dark colors. Shoulder length dark hair tucked away from his face, a face shaped by a strong jaw lined with dark stubble, or his startling blue eyes framed by long dark lashes.

As he moves closer you can feel the power in each of his strides, the distance he covers disappearing quickly.

“Hey Buck,” Sam says as he stands and pats Bucky on the back.

Bucky gives Sam a lopsided smile then looks down to you.

“Bucky Barnes,” he says and holds out his hand.

“Hi,” you whisper, swallowing loudly and then clearing your throat before giving him your name, your words louder now.

Lightning zips down your arm at his touch and you feel the slight tensing in his hand.

“I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible,” Bucky says, still holding onto your hand.

“I appreciate that,” you tell him, finally pulling away with a small tug.

Sam looks between the two of you and tries to hide his growing grin.

True to his word, for the first week, Bucky keeps his distance, only making his presence known when necessary and keeping in touch with you and your schedule through simple texts.

It isn’t until you’re walking home after a long day of errands, your bag resting against your stomach as you look for your keys, keys you know you had when you left the house this morning, that Bucky finally makes an appearance.

“Looking for these?” he says as your keys dangle from his long fingers.

You look up at the sound of his voice to find him casually resting against the brick front of your building, his jaw tight.

“What? I…?”

“You need to be more careful doll,” he says as he takes a powerful step forward.

He twirls the keys around his finger before taking your hand and dropping them into your palm.

“What if someone else found them?” he asks, holding your gaze.

“But…I didn’t even know I dropped them.”

“Exactly,” he grits out. “How much shit do you have in there that you didn’t notice?”

His words take you by surprise and you step closer to him, sticking your finger into his hard chest. “That’s none of your business and what does it matter. I’ll carry around what I want!”

“It matters if you’re going to lose things like keys so someone can find them and get into your apartment. You never know who’s watching.”

His words make you shiver, and you heed Sam’s warning. You know being associated with him, especially as someone important to him, brings the possibility of danger but the harsh reminder of it makes your heart race.

As if sensing your unease, Bucky’s eyes soften.

“Just pay more attention,” he says, as he holds the door of your building open for you.

You’re about to say, ‘thank you,’ but he walks off, those purposeful strides carrying him away quickly.

“Does he sleep outside your window?”

You laugh at your best friends question but not before crawling across your bed to peek out the window of your bedroom.

“I don’t think so,” you answer into the phone.

“At least he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Oh stop,” you tell her. “It’s not like I even see much of him.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she counters, and you can practically see her raised and challenging brow.

“Well…yeah. It is,” you reply with a huff, shaking your head to clear the image of his handsome face from your mind.

‘I have plans with my friend tomorrow night.’

You watch the three dots pop up on your phone screen as you wait for Bucky’s text reply.

‘Just tell me the time and place.’

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes you text Emma so you can decide where to go and then let Bucky know.

“Is he here?” Emma asks, eyeing you over her drink.

“Yeah, he’s sitting in the corner back there, nursing his beer.”

She starts to turn around, but you grab her arm. “Don’t make it obvious!”

“Well how am I supposed to get a look at him!?”

“Bathroom?” you suggest, and she nods enthusiastically.

You swivel and head toward the hallway, her head and eyes remaining on Bucky until you make the turn toward the bathrooms.

“Wow,” Emma says when you walk in.

You wrinkle your nose at the stagnant and pungent smell of the bathroom.

“Yeah, not the best,” you murmur.

“What? NO!” she says. “Wow for Bucky. Damn girl.”

“Oh.”

“OH?! Do you have eyes?”

You pin her with a glare.

“And I didn’t even get a good look because he’s sitting down in that dark corner…”

Her words come out with a dreamy sigh.

“I think he’s single,” you say suggestively.

“Perfect. GET ON THAT.”

You look at her incredulously. “Why not you?”

She blows a raspberry and waves you off. “He’s probably smitten with you already.”

“It’s not like we’re hanging out or anything. He’s just here to keep trouble away.”

Emma smiles deviously. “I think he’s the most trouble you’re gonna find.”

You both giggle as you walk out of the bathroom, not paying attention until you run into what feels like a brick wall.

“Hey there doll, you ok?” Bucky says quietly as large, warm hands envelope your waist and he steadies you against his chest.

Your pulse quickens and a thrill stirs beneath your skin as does an awareness of every point at which you touch. You blink then look up to find his eyes trained on you.

“Yeah, fine. What are you doing here?”

His eyes slide to Emma, and you give him a subtle nod to let him know she knows what’s going on.

“Two girls…bar…dark hallway.”

“Got it,” you say then introduce him to Emma.

The rest of the night is spent sipping your drink and stealing glances at Bucky. Every time you look his eyes are on you, the weight of his stare making your skin tingle and heat.

“He’s staring isn’t he?” Emma asks.

“He has been all night,” you reply.

She just smiles and grabs your hand. “Let’s dance.”

You fall into an easy rhythm with the music, your hips swaying and your hands floating around you. Suddenly you’re pulled from your rhythmic movements by the feel of hands at your waist.

With a jerk forward you pull away and turn around to find a drunk stranger grinning at you.

“Don’t wanna dance beautiful?” he slurs.

You shake your head no and move closer to Emma. The man moves into your space and tries to act coy, but it just makes you cringe.

“I’m…” you start to say but get cut off when a large shadow looms over you and Bucky says, “she’s with me.”

The stranger backs up and lifts his hands in surrender before stumbling off.

“You ok?” he asks, assessing you intensely.

You nod then he looks to Emma to check on her.

“All good here,” she says with a smile. “I’m just going to get a water.”

Strong arms encase you, wrapping you in a delicious warmth and the scent of leather and something woodsy and fresh. You inhale without thinking and lean closer.

His breathing hitches and you’re brought back to reality. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing,” he says on an exhale.

“This isn’t exactly a song for a slow dance,” you laugh.

He drops his head, and you can see a light blush gracing the tops of his cheeks under the dim light from above.

“Just trying to keep your suitors away,” he teases.

“Ugh,” you say, peeking around Bucky for the guy who tried to dance with you.

You can feel him chuckle before someone bumps you from behind and you’re pressed closer. His laugh dies on a pained groan and your own laugh bubbles out of you.

“What’s so funny doll?”

You cover your mouth, but your eyes are lit up with mirth. “You are,” you mumble through your fingers. “I find it funny that it’s so painful for you to actually hang out with me.”

He stares at you, stepping away and running his fingers over his hair. “Fuck,” he says and spins around. “It’s not that at all…”

Your eyebrows draw inward, but he just walks back to his hidden seat.

When you slide up beside Emma at the bar she’s grinning.

“You two looked cozy.”

“He smells nice,” you blurt out. “But I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” she asks.

“Sometimes it seems like he wants to be around me and then…”

“The complete opposite?”

“YES!”

“He likes you.”

“What? That makes no sense.”

“It does. Think about it. He has a job to do so he has to stay focused but you’re hot and amazing and he sees that so…what’s a man to do but act like a complete ass.”

“Well now that makes total sense,” you say wryly.

After getting Emma home safely you walk next to Bucky down the quiet street toward your apartment, his fingers occasionally brushing yours. He listens with a focused intensity as you tell him childhood stories about you and Sam.

“I can’t wait to use this as ammo,” he laughs when you share something particularly embarrassing.

“Oh please do. He deserves it.”

When you reach your apartment he insists on walking you up and when your key gets stuck you grunt in frustration, pulling harshly and rattling the door.

“Need some help?” he asks, his voice closer than you realized.

His hand closes over yours and you try to ignore the heat of his body so close and the shock of his initial touch, almost familiar but still so new.

He presses his chest into your back and removes your hand from the knob; the instant mourn of the loss of his touch making you inwardly chastise yourself.

With deft but gentle movements he maneuvers the key until it turns cleanly in the lock.

“What would you do without me?” he whispers.

“I was doing just fine before,” you state with a shaky breath.

You turn to face him, and he gives you an inch of space and you catch his disbelieving but playful expression. You’re about to say something cheeky but you see his jaw tighten and his body tense.

“Get inside,” he says, pushing the door open.

You do as he says, your heart dropping into your stomach. He follows, shutting the door quietly behind you and reaching into his boot. He pulls out a knife, twirling it skillfully before he presses his shoulder to the door and listens.

He holds a finger to his lips, motioning for you to remain quiet. Your breathing is ragged but you do as he says, plastering yourself to the far wall.

You hear heavy footsteps in the hall, followed by hushed voices. Bucky waits and he’s so calm you wonder if he’s still breathing. After what feels like a lifetime he moves into your space, gently taking your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers, and your eyes go wide, darting around the room in panic.

“Baby, look at me. I promise. I’ll be right back.”

You head moves up and down. “Ok.”

“Don’t move.”

He searches your fearful expression once more before sweeping the pad of his thumb over your trembling bottom lip.

“I promise,” he says again, then disappears stealthily out the door.

You hear nothing but the loud thumping of your heart against your rib cage and just as you start to fear the worst you hear a light knock and Bucky’s voice.

“It’s me doll.”

He steps instead and locks the door. You sag against the wall, your entire body becoming too heavy. Before you can slide to the floor he has you in his arms, carrying you to the couch until you’re comfortably laying down.

“I’m gonna get you some water and something small to eat.”

You grab his hand, hanging on tightly.

“I’ll be right in the kitchen. Just a few seconds.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across your knuckles. “Right back. Ok?”

You nod with a hard swallow.

True to his word, he’s quick, smiling at you from the kitchen as he grabs some cold water and a snack. He sits on the edge of the couch and makes you take a big drink and a have a bite of food. Once your breathing is more even he turns on the tv and lifts your legs, sitting back and resting them over his lap.

You wake to find your hand engulfed by Bucky’s and your body cocooned in strong arms. He’s holding you to his chest, every inch of him flush against you, the heat of him soaking through your clothes. In his sleep, he pulls you closer still, creating hot friction between you that you impulsively arch into.

He stirs, slowly, every movement amplifying your awareness of every point where your bodies touch. A low hum of pleasure sounds at the back of his throat and then…

“Shit doll,” he says, sitting up quickly. “I’m sorry, I-,” he stammers, letting out a loud exhale.

“It’s fine Bucky,” you assure him. “We must have fallen asleep.”

Your eyes drop to his jeans and the obvious bulge pressing against the tight fabric. He curses again and stands, turning away from you before spinning around to close the gap between you.

He breathes out your name, his gaze dropping to your lips and his voice low. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You were scared. I didn’t want to leave you.”

You grab his wrist before he can turn away. “I’m glad you stayed with me. I wanted you to. And I wasn’t…I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

He sighs, seeming resigned to your declarations and reaches for his phone.

“I’m going to call Sam. I have some questions.”

“And I need some answers. What the hell happened last night?”

His thumb swipes over the red button, ending the call before it even rang. “Yeah, of course, doll…those guys were from the same group that tried to get a hold of you last time. Apparently they’re going after Sam for the shield, and they want some collateral. They thought they had it last night, but they weren’t expecting me.”

He doesn’t elaborate on that before excusing himself to finally call Sam. You sit with a plop, your head swirling with so many different emotions you have to close your eyes and lay back.

“I think you should come stay with me for a few days.”

Your eyes pop open at his words. “Your place?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Unless you want me sleeping here. Which I’ll do but I think it’s safer at my place.”

“But..Where…How…?”

“You can have my bed,” he says. “I…uh, honestly don’t sleep in it much anyway.”

Something in his tone makes you know not to push any further and before you can ask more questions he says, “I have a cat. You’ll love her.”

“OH! Is this Alpine?” you ask as you walk into Bucky’s apartment and spot the prettiest white fluffy cat.

“There she is,” Bucky coos.

Alpine immediately hops off the counter and saunters toward you, rubbing between your legs.

“Wow, that was quick,” Bucky muses. “Usually doesn’t take to people that quickly.”

“She’s such a sweetie,” you sing, rubbing her soft fur.

“Listen, I have to go see Sam but make yourself at home. There’s food…I’d rather you not order take out, so you don’t have to open the door…”

“Bucky.”

“What? I’m the only one you should be letting in.”

“Fine.”

“Lock up behind me.”

He walks toward the door and waits for you to follow. You step up next to him and give his shoulder a light shove.

“Already kicking me out of my own place?”

The playful smile that was tugging at the corner of your mouth falls and your eyes drop to the floor.

“Just hurry up so you can come back.”

You feel his arms wrap around you, softly at first but when you circle your arms around his waist he tightens his grip and smooths his hand along the curve of your spine.

“I won’t be long. Call or text me any time you want. Hang with Alpine. She helps.”

“Ok,” you say as you pull back and give him your best encouraging smile.

His eyes fall to your lips, and he dips his head. Your breath hitches and when he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth time stops and you forget to let out an exhale. He pulls away and clears his throat.

“See you soon doll. Lock up.”

You wander around his apartment, looking but not snooping while Alpine trots behind you and tangles herself in your legs any chance she gets. When you walk into the bathroom you’re surprised to see an old freestanding tub with iron claw feet nestled under the window.

The weight of the last two days settles on your shoulders, and you let out a sigh. “A bath would be so nice right about now…”

Alpine meows as if in agreement.

“He did say make myself at home…”

Without a another thought you grab your bag and rummage through to find your body wash then start to peel your clothes off before approaching the edge of the tub. You start the water and wait for the right temperature, tentatively dipping a toe in to check. Slowly, you step into the bath and ease your body into the water.

At last you let out a deep, gratifying sigh, and submerge yourself. The warmth soaks into your tense muscles and you let the unease wash from your skin.

As you bask in the relaxation of the warm water, the world outside fades and you consider all that’s happened in the last few weeks. The fear of almost being kidnapped, then the emotional rollercoaster that followed and Sam’s pleas for you to accept Bucky’s protection…

“Hey doll, where are y…?”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Bucky’s shout, and you see him looking down at you, his lips parted at the sight. You jolt in the water, scrambling to scoop as many bubbles in front of you as you can. But he’s already seen. Everything.

“Oh my god. I didn’t even hear you come in. I…”

“It’s ok doll. I’m uh…I’m sorry if I scared you…”

His gaze is hooded as he explores the tub. “Pretty sure this is the first time anyone has used the tub.” He takes a measured breath, his eyes lowering to your lips, your collarbone, and the small expanse of skin that glistens above the water.

A flush of warmth spreads through your body, every inch of your skin suddenly sensitive to the cool air that touches your exposed shoulders.

“Can you just give me a minute?” you ask quietly.

“Oh, shit. Sorry doll. Yeah of course. Take your time.”

He starts to move away but with hesitation, his eyes still trained on your body, and it emboldens you. You had rarely let your mind go to these thoughts, but you knew you weren’t imagining the connection between the two of you, the lingering looks or the heat in every one of his touches.

Anticipation travels down your spine as you rise above the water, soap sliding along the curves of your body.

You stare is challenging. “Are you sorry?”

He grunts out a frustrated sound before following with a deep rumbling, “no.”

With all hesitation gone he drinks in the sight of you and your lips part as you too, take him in; the way his strong jaw is tight, his fists squeezed at his sides, and the undeniable bulge pushes against his jeans.

A knock sounds at the door, and you jump, instantly searching for the towel. Bucky steps closer, grabbing it from the sink and handing it to you slowly.

“That’ll be Sam. He wanted to come by to check on you.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Ok. I’ll be right out.”

He backs up and turns to go out the door, yelling to Sam that he’ll be right there. You exhale shakily, all the heated tension leaving your body as you let out a frustrated groan.

Once you’re dried off and decent you pick up Alpine, who had opted to stay in the bathroom with you, and walk out to the small living room. Sam smiles, getting up from his chair and lifting you in a hug.

Alpine meows in irritation and Sam’s smile widens. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”

You scratch behind Alpine’s ear. “Yep. We’re besties now. She probably likes me better than Bucky.”

Bucky scoffs and relents with a quiet, “probably does.”

Your gaze darts to Bucky and lingers there long enough that his blue eyes raise to yours, his weighted stare sending a thrill through your body. A muscle twitches in his jaw and his eyes tell you that he’s still thinking of you in the bath.

After talking with Sam and having him catch you up on the latest information you feel tired all over again and when you yawn for the third time Bucky chimes in. “Think we’re gonna call it a night Wilson.”

Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Oh. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “It’s been a long day.”

Your half-hearted smile is met by Sam’s apologetic eyes. “Yeah. Of course. That’s fair. All right you two. Get some rest.”

Sam says something quietly to Bucky before he gives you a hug goodbye and heads out the door.

Bucky stands by the closed door for a beat before he turns around to meet your eyes.

“The sheets are clean and the bed’s all yours.”

You stand, holding his gaze and unable to tame the pounding of your heart or the pulse of desire between your thighs. The charged silence lingers, and he seems to sense it because his eyes drop to your mouth.

“Thank you Bucky.”

“Of course doll,” he says with a swallow.

“Can I…” you start to ask as you look down at the sleeping cat in your lap.

“She’s all yours,” Bucky says with a smile.

You pull the sheet up over your body, tucking your arm under the pillow and inhaling the faint scent of Bucky that lingers on the pillowcase. You’re not scared. Not in his bed, in his apartment, with his cat curled next to you and him in the next room over. But you are restless, and you can’t stop the ache between your legs.

Pushing the sheet off you press your bare feet to the cold floor and start for the kitchen to get some water. As you walk by the bathroom door you notice the light is on and then the door flies inward, the frame filled by Bucky’s broad shoulders.

He stands in the doorway, gripping the towel slung low around his hips. He’s dripping wet, the droplets of water following the carved paths of his broad chest and abdomen, then lower, to the V-shaped grooves that frame the dark trail of hair that disappears into his towel.

As your shock wears off, you study the space where his metal arm meets his shoulder, the movements of the plates powerful but sleek. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and touch him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper. “Your arm I mean.”

He looks from his arm to you, considering your words.

“Thanks doll. It’s definitely an improvement from what I had before.”

You force yourself to focus. “Are you going to get dressed?”

The corner of his mouth tugs upward and he leans against the doorframe. “Why?” he asks.

“Because.”

His smile widens into a grin, and he slowly walks past you, brushing the side of your body with his hip. You watch him go into the small spare room and then run into the kitchen to get a much-needed drink.

He comes into the kitchen in a pair of sweats and a tight tee shirt, surveying you as you lean along his counter.

“Where do you keep your glasses?”

With slow steps he closes the distance between you and invades your space, pressing his body to yours as he reaches above your head for a glass. He’s so close and as he brings the glass down to the counter you’d merely have to lift your head, and his lips would be on yours.

You reach for him, daring your fingertips to slip underneath the hem of his shirt, trailing them teasingly across his warm skin. He doesn’t move.

“Bucky?” Your voice trembles and his hand comes up, his thumb brushing along the curve of your cheek to draw you to him. His lips, softer than you imagined, graze yours, restrained and filled with the promise of something deeper and more intense.

At the simple brush of his lips you moan, every desire flooding to the surface and igniting your skin. Then, he kisses you, lips parted and tongue brushing yours, his hand closing around the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your hands slide over his torso, reveling in the power you feel under his flexing muscles.

You arch into him, savoring the weight of his hands as they travel down the curve of your waist and slide to your lower back, pressing you closer in a quiet hunger. He moans out your name and you break away, chest heaving.

“I want this,” you tell him, and he searches your face, his intense gaze softening.

“You’re sur…”

“I’m sure.”

With steady hands he tucks his fingers under the hem of your shirt and slowly pulls it from your body, his gaze hungry as his eyes wash over every inch of newly exposed skin.

Whatever restraint had softened him disappears and he traps you with his body, claiming your mouth as his hands explore your skin. You fumble with his shirt, and he pulls back, only to yank it impatiently over his head.

You palm the hard length of him straining against his pants and he hisses out a curse, swallowing your moan of want with his mouth. You strip away his pants as quickly as you can, your shorts falling to the floor in a pile at your feet.

You reach for him, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head. He holds you in place with one hand and peels your panties down with the other. Your legs spread of their own accord and his eyes are trained on you as he runs his fingers down between your breasts, and lower.

When he finds you soaked he lets out a heady moan, circling your clit with his fingertip as a rush of pleasure pulses through you. His finger slips inside, and you cry out, pushing against him, needing more.

He draws away to watch, his gaze lingering where his fingers now fill you and he holds himself in check, taking in the sight. The pressure builds and he pulls out, only to circle your most sensitive spot, nearly sending you into oblivion.

“Bucky,” you gasp. “I want more.”

He releases your wrists, only to press you into the counter with his whole body, the edge of it digging into your back. He positions his cock where his fingers were moments before and he catches your gaze, waiting and watching as he pushes into you slowly.

Your head falls back, and you grip his shoulders. He swears against your mouth, fucking you hard and deep, sinking all the way in as his fingers dig into the softness at your hips.

“I’ll give you everything you need, everything you want,” he murmurs as he wraps his fingers around your neck and tilts your head back to press his mouth to your pulse point.

“Oh god Bucky.”

“Come for me doll.”

His hand sinks between your bodies, pressing to your clit as he groans out your name. At the overwhelming sensations, you come undone, your orgasm crashing through every part of you until you’re stifling your cries against his lips.

He finds his own release at the sight of you falling apart, slowing his thrusts with groaned curses as he draws out the last of your bliss.

You don’t move and he rests his brow to yours and inhales then he kisses you, slow and deep. Your fingers rake through his hair, and you kiss him back, savoring the taste of him, craving his every touch.

“Are you ok?” he whispers, carefully gripping your chin and bringing your eyes to his.

“Yes,” you answer.

His mouth grazes yours and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth. “Good. Because that wasn’t enough,” he groans. “Not even close.”

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eviesaurusrex · 8 days ago

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Love Drunk (Clark Kent)

Summary: You go a bit dumb and cock drunk one night in bed with Clark, and he initially has no idea what’s happened to you and is very concerned.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dumbification, cock drunk, pet names, pinv, pretty much all filth.

Word Count: 1.6k

It takes Clark a long time to come to terms with the fact that that glazed over look in your eye, the wordless unintelligble sounds that are the only noise your mouth can make, the boneless flop of your limbs wherever he chooses to place them, is actually a very good thing.

At first, he’s worried, incredibly worried, when you can’t form your own name, when the only sound that comes out of your mouth is a broken half formed moan of his. He’s worried he’s gone too hard, too fast, hurt you in some way that his impervious body can’t possibly sense.

He stops so suddenly that the action alone is almost enough to jar you free, and in conjunction with the panicked but gentle rousing he engages in, you come to your senses very quickly.

“No I just… I’m sorry. That’s never happened before I guess I just got a little cock drunk.”

“C-cock drunk?”

“It-I don’t know. It happened to my roommate in college sometimes? She’d… come so many times in a row, or it would feel so good she’d kind of just… lose herself she said. She’d go all dumb like her boyfriend literally fucked her brains out.”

“I-“ He pauses for a long time. “And that’s a … good thing?”

“Yeah,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “it’s a very good thing… It feels good for me anyway. You don’t have to-you know you don’t have to fuck me like that if it’s a problem for you. I’m sure doing all the heavy lifting all the time isn’t fun.”

His lips twitch, and you know he’s fighting a smile. “Heavy lifting doesn’t really bother me. I could-I didn’t mind it I just… I was worried. You weren’t responding, and I thought…”

“You thought you’d hurt me.” It’s not a question. You know him well enough to know where his mind went.

“Yeah.”

“No, love.”

He’s hunching over a bit where he’s sitting on the end of the bed, and you push him back a bit, make room for yourself, curl up in his lap, and lay your temple to his chest. His arms wrap around your naked body instinctively, holding you tight to his bare torso, and you know it’s a comfort, a lifeline, he needs right now. Coming down from a spoiled high, reassuring himself that he didn’t hurt you, knowing he didn’t let you down. He needs to hold you close and feel your skin on his and tell himself he did good.

“You were perfect.” One of your hands works its way free of his tight grip around you, and you immediately sink it in his luscious curls. “So perfect you made me forget my own name there for a minute.”

“Okay…” He nods like he’s trying to convince himself you’re right. “Okay, good to know.”

You kiss his cheek, and now you’re the one biting back a smile. “If it happens again, know that it’s a good thing and you can keep going… only if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you have to if it’s a turn off.”

“It’s not… It’s not.”

———————————

There’s a slight puddle of drool forming under your mouth on the pillow, and you can barely register anything but the next cresting wave of pleasure that’s moments from crashing over you.

You’ve already come once rubbing yourself on his thigh, once with his mouth between your legs, once on his fingers, once on his cock, and now a you’re about to come a second time around him.

Your mind is starting to go if it isn’t gone already. You feel it, and you try to fight it remembering how scared he’d gotten the last time. But he’s just fucking you so good.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Clark groans.

His hips roll into yours, and there’s the sound of skin slapping skin to accompany the feel of his gloriously thick cock sliding home between your legs.

You moan wantonly into the pillow and don’t even bother trying to stop more drool from leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

His hand knots in your hair, and he uses it to, incredibly gently, pull your body up off of the mattress. A long strand of saliva stretches between the pool on the pillow and your lips until it finally snaps halfway to Clark and leaves a wet trail down your chin and onto your neck. If you could control any part of your body, you might reach a hand up and wipe it away, but you can’t even manage to close your mouth that’s hanging open as your head tilts back against Clark’s chest let alone work either of your boneless arms.

When your back is flush with his front, his hands find their usual resting places — right on your breast, left on your hip — and hold you as close as they can while still giving his hips room to move.

“It’s okay.” Clark leans his head down so he can pant quietly into your ear. “You can come again. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Let it go.”

“Cla-ooooh,” is all you can manage as your pussy squeezes around his cock, and you come for the fifth time that night.

His cock is stretching all of your walls, and it’s hitting every sensitive spot inside you like he’s memorized angles and degrees and done fucking geometry to find the best way to make your eyes roll back in your head. You don’t know how you keep breathing when his length bottoms out inside you, and if the blurred lines in your vision are any indication you might not be breathing.

“So pretty,” Clark sighs and buries his face in the top of your hair. “So good for me, sweetheart, you feel so good when you come so hard for me.”

You whine, lewd and loud and desperate. You want him to go faster. You’re overstimulated and cock drunk and incapable of coherent sentences to express that that’s what you want, but his hips are maintaining the same hard but steady pace he set when his cock first sunk into your pussy well over half an hour ago. It doesn’t seem like he’s even close to being done with you tonight — though that part you’re not complaining about.

“You have some drool on your chin there, sweetheart.” Clark notices.

He frees one hand from your waist to reach around to grab the pillow you’d dirtied, and in a flash the pillow is gone and only the pillowcase remains.

He’s still steadily fucking into you. His cock is slamming in with a hard snap of his hips and sliding out with a slow drag of every inch along your walls. If you were of a sound mind you’d ask how he was capable of coherent speech or observations or anything at all while you felt like this.

Clark gently wipes away the drool — still fucking smoothly into you. He even licks the corner of the fabric to help wipe away some of the dried bits that had stuck to your face from the pillow’s puddle.

“Better sweetheart?” He ruts into you, “All clean?”

You nod and almost choke on your saliva as you try to swallow down any more drool.

“Shh, shh,” Clark reaches around your body, and you make a noiseless high pitched keening sound as some part of your brain incapable of speech realizes where his hand is going.

His thumb brushes over your clit, and you nearly scream from the pleasure on your oversensitive nub, bucking wildly into his hands and forcibly changing the pace he’s otherwise consistently maintained connecting his hips and yours.

He frees your breast finally and grips your hip a little more firmly than a human man, a little more firmly than necessary. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. You can drool over me all you want, sweetheart; don’t hurt yourself swallowing it down. I know you’re a bit dumb right now.”

Your hips try to jerk again but can’t move in his grip, and your walls cease up around his cock in a spasm nearly as strong as an orgasm. Fortunately, Clark’s hips snap out of rhythm to ram his cock hard into you to enjoy every second of your pussy quaking. “Oh you like that?”

You nod, but you can’t really say more.

“You like being dumb, sweetheart?”

You nod.

Clark’s hips move a little faster. Your pussy is leaking so much around his cock that even being the thickest and longest man you’ve ever had — by a wide margin — he’s moving with so much ease now. You must be absolutely gaping open around him by now; he’s used you, stretched you, so long. You’re sure your pussy will look like an absolutely used slut tomorrow, and you kind of love it.

“I get it. You’re so smart all the time sweetheart,” he grunts, as his cock twitches inside you. “You can trust me. Shut your brain off for a while and be dumb for me.”

You don’t even feel the wave. It hits you full force all at once, as your eyes roll back in your head and you cry.

What happens next, you’re not really sure. You know it’s a very long time before Clark comes inside you and finally exhausts his near infinite stamina for the night, but you can’t remember any details of it beyond white hot pleasure intermittently rolling over you through a mind-numbing haze.

“Is it wrong to say I like you dumb?” Clark sheepishly asks the next morning. “Not all the time, just when we’re in bed together.”

You shake your head and burrow back under his arm into his side. And “Clark Kent you can fuck me dumb any time you want,” is the first thing you say after coming back to yourself.

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eviesaurusrex · 10 days ago

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Like The Dawn

Kai Azer x Reader

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, angst, mentions of overwhelming responsibility/stress, insecurity about fatherhood, heavy fluff toward the end, discussions of pregnancy/babies, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: Years have passed since the battles that shaped your lives. Now, you and Kai are King and Queen, living in the gilded halls you once only dreamed of. But no crown is without weight.

The castle was asleep.

The stone walls hummed with the kind of silence only found after a long day of courtly battles—debates, signings, endless responsibilities. You could hear the guards changing shifts below, their armor clinking faintly as they moved through the courtyard.

You sat at the vanity, brushing through your hair with lazy, absent strokes. The night had worn you thin in the way only peace could, not exhaustion from fear anymore, but from the delicate balancing act of ruling a kingdom. You were humming softly under your breath, the melody a shapeless thing, a comfort.

Across the room, Kai stood in front of the tall windows, his figure carved into the night by the pale light of the moon. His back was to you, broad shoulders tense as he slowly, absently, undid the buttons of his dark button-up shirt. He wasn’t in any hurry, you noticed. He was watching the guards below, jaw tight, something heavy in the set of his posture.

You smiled at the sight of him—your husband. Your king. It still sometimes startled you, how natural it felt to think those words now. It had been years, but the wonder hadn’t worn off. You loved him more now than you had even then, when the world was ending and he had stood between you and ruin.

And lately, you had found yourself daydreaming.

Giddy little dreams, the kind you tucked close to your heart and whispered to no one.

Dreams of a cradle in the corner of your room. Of Kai asleep in the armchair, a tiny bundle against his chest. Of laughter filling these cold stone halls.

You wanted a baby.

The thought fluttered again now as you watched him, heart swelling so full it almost hurt. He would be such a good father, you thought. Strong, protective. Gentle, in the way only he could be when he forgot about the weight of the crown.

You set your brush down and padded across the floor, bare feet silent against the cold stone. The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing golden light across the room.

“Kai,” you said softly.

He didn’t turn around. Just gave a low hum of acknowledgment, fingers still toying with the buttons at his cuff.

You reached out and touched his back lightly. His muscles tensed under your palm before slowly easing.

“Can we talk about something?” you asked, voice quiet, unsure.

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly, glancing at you over his shoulder. His eyes, those same blue, thoughtful eyes you had fallen in love with, softened when they met yours.

“Of course,” he said, even though you could hear the tiredness woven into every syllable.

You hesitated. The words felt too delicate, too new. But you couldn’t keep carrying them alone.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, twisting your wedding band around your finger, “about… the future.”

Kai’s body stilled again, like a stag scenting danger in the air.

“I want—” You faltered, cheeks heating. “I mean, I’ve been dreaming about… about having a baby.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Kai turned fully then, the half-undone shirt hanging loose against his body. His expression was unreadable, a practiced sort of calm that only made your heart sink.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

You rushed to fill the void, voice tumbling out nervously. “Not right away, of course. I just, I don’t know, Kai, I keep thinking about it. About us, about everything we’ve built. It feels like… like maybe it’s time to think about building something more.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He dropped his gaze to the floor, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, a tell you knew too well.

“Y/n…” he said, voice low, almost strangled.

You reached for him, fingertips brushing the bare skin of his forearm. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— I needed to tell you what I was feeling.”

He exhaled shakily, as if you had pulled something out of him he wasn’t ready to give.

“I do want it,” he said finally, so softly you almost missed it.

Relief surged through you, but it was short-lived. Because then he added, “But I don’t know if I can.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Kai swallowed hard. You could see the war inside him, the years of holding everything in, wearing a mask even around you. He had gotten so good at it, you realized with a pang, that you hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming.

“I don’t know how to be… enough,” he admitted, voice breaking. “Not for the kingdom. Not for you. And not for a child.”

“Kai…” you breathed, heart breaking for him.

He finally looked at you, and the anguish there was raw, unshielded.

“I’m already failing at being king. I can’t fail at being a father.”

You moved without thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his chest. His heart thudded violently beneath your ear.

“You are not failing,” you whispered fiercely. “You’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders, and you’re still standing. That’s not failure, Kai. That’s strength.”

His hands came up, hesitantly at first, then urgently, pulling you closer. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

“I’m scared,” he confessed, voice muffled.

You tightened your arms around him. “Me too,” you admitted. “But isn’t that how we’ve done everything, Kai? Scared and together?”

He let out a choked laugh, the sound rough and real.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, cupping his cheek with one hand.

“You’re not alone,” you said. “You never have to do this alone.”

He turned his head slightly to press a kiss into your palm. His eyes were shining, and he didn’t bother hiding it this time.

“I want it,” he said again, more certain now. “I want a family with you.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your whole face ache with the force of it.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I can’t imagine doing this life with anyone else.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep and aching, like he was pouring every word he couldn’t say into you.

Later, when you finally curled into each other beneath the heavy blankets, his hand found yours under the covers. Fingers twined together. Safe. Steady.

“You’ll be an amazing dad,” you whispered into the darkness.

You felt him press a kiss to your temple, his voice a breath against your skin.

“Only because you’ll be there to remind me who I am.”

And outside, the first pale light of dawn stretched over the horizon, soft and new and full of promise.

Just like you.

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eviesaurusrex · 21 days ago

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Where the Leashes Tangle

Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Summary: While walking Krypto, Clark ends up entangled with you and your puppy.

Warnings: *Superman spoiler* concerning Krypto, but no events of the movie are mentioned, just a fluffy meet cute, Krypto being the best wingman

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I finally watched the new Superman movie and I’m so in love with both him and Krypto 🥺 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Krypto, slow down!”

The fluffy, white, not-always-the-best-boy practically levitates down the sidewalk, tugging at the leash like his life depends on it, more so taking Clark for a walk than the other way around.

This is what a good dog sitter does, right? Pups need to run around outside, enjoy the sunshine, fresh air and all the interesting scents a city this populated can provide. This activity might finally deplete Krypto of some energy that he usually reserves for chaotic zoomies that wreck mayhem at the apartment.

What Clark didn’t anticipate was Krypto inadvertently playing matchmaker on this fine summer's day.

They had barely rounded the corner towards the local dog park when Krypto’s ears perked up, and his nose went into overdrive. In the span of a blink, the playful dog was virtually airborne.

The pup surged forward, Clark almost tripping to keep up, as Krypto bounds towards his target. There is no stopping his momentum, once the floof ball has his eyes set on something, Clark has about 0.2 seconds to grip tighter on the leash before being dragged behind him like a human kite.

When Clark finally spotted the mark Krypto had honed in on, or more specifically the woman holding the lead of his dog's object, his heart faltered in his chest. The same golden sunlight which gives him strength also makes you look like an ethereal goddess, providing a halo of warmth that illuminates your face as if the universe is singling you out just for him.

“Wait Krypto, no!” Clark warns, but the dog just barks gleefully, as if being mischievous is his purpose in life, and rushes to give your puppy a warm welcome.

Krypto barrels around you in an attempt to get as close to the puppy as possible, encircling your legs as well as Clark’s with his leash, pulling the two of you into a forced embrace where Clark has to wrap his spare arm around your waist to prevent you from being tripped over.

“Bad dog, Krypto!” Clark reprimands, but the two doggos are far too engrossed in sniffing every inch of each other to care about the predicament their owners now find themselves in.

Clark is however quietly grateful for that, as it means spending a few extra seconds longer with your body pressed to his. The warm smile curving onto your already alluring features both has him weak in the knees and subsides the embarrassment bubbling in his stomach at being the reason for this mess.

Perhaps you're just as fond of being this close to Clark, as he is to you.

“I’m so sorry, he gets very excitable around other dogs.” And their cute owners, Clark thinks but refrains from saying aloud.

You glance up at him with eyes that are so easily lost in, especially when you’re still nestled ridiculously close, the gentle touch of Clark’s hand lingering at your waist. So much so that he’s completely lost all train of thought and is fumbling over what to say next.

“Oh he’s just being friendly! You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” You coo, peering down at the white floof with a smile. Krypto tilts his head, tongue lolling out in a happy smile and his tail wagging quickly while basking in your attention. “Is this his first ambush, or does he do this to everyone he meets on a walk?”

“So far you’re the only one.” Clark admits, his cheeks growing warm when your gaze redirects back to him. You're so close he can study all the different coloured flecks in your eyes, admire the softness of your lips.

He tries not to think about how he’s only usually this close to someone when he’s about to kiss them.

“I must be special then.”

Clark swallows hard, you’re certainly right about that. The leashes are still twisted around your legs like the thread of fate refusing to let you out of each other's sight. He can feel the beat of your heart quicken at the banter and wonders if you can sense his doing the same.

“He certainly has impeccable taste.” You smile and break eye contact at this, choosing to look down at the pavement rather than maintain eye contact. Clark chooses to believe he’s managed to fluster you, rather than thinking you’re too preoccupied with the leashes and not wanting to trip over.

Clark holds your hand to keep you steady as he bends down to unravel the tangle of leads, allowing you to step out of the knots and free yourself from Krypto’s imprisonment.

You give him a small thank you before smiling down at Krypto as if you've known him for years, fingers scratching those sweet spots behind his ears that proves to be his weakness. He leans into your touch shamelessly, tail batting against the footpath as he accepts all your affection.

“Well he’s very cute, I’m sure he makes all the girls swoon.”

Clark’s under no illusions that this is a probing statement, meant to test the waters, see if it’s worth your time to go fishing. He wants to make it crystal clear he’s interested, so he holds your gaze for a beat before he speaks.

“Not all the girls, just the one he dragged me towards.” Clark internally cringes, because he definitely didn’t mean for it to sound as damn cheesy as it came out, and hopes that he hasn’t just ruined his chances with you.

You blink, perhaps caught off guard for a moment by his response, but when you smile and gently chuckle at either what he said, or his shy reaction, the sound is warm enough to melt the buzzing anxiety swarming in his chest.

“Smart dog.” You quip, the playfulness in your voice providing reassurance to Clark that he hasn’t yet lost his shot with you. “Knows how to be a good wingman.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to remain cool and collected on the outside all the while feeling nervous and giddy on the inside. The warmth creeping up his neck to the tips of his cheekbones is most likely what betrays that.

“He’s got good instincts, I just follow the leash.” This time his voice is much more bashful, and matches the blush that is no doubt spreading over his cheeks and giving away any last pretence of composure.

“Well if you keep following it, where do you think it’ll take you next?”

“I’m hoping somewhere that includes your number.” He says, words escaping his throat before he has the chance to second guess them.

You’ve got him already in the palm of your hand as he waits for your response. Even though the stakes aren’t earth shattering, that he contends with life and death situations more frequently than he’d like to admit, there’s something about your smile which makes this moment feel like one of the most important he’s had on this planet.

“I guess we’ll see how well you follow directions then.” The cheeky grin you flash at him as you hold your hand out for his phone has his stomach doing somersaults.

He adjusts Krypto’s leash in his hand, grounding himself in this new reality where he now gets to know you. One which very well might change the trajectory of his time on earth.

Clark, still blushing profusely, stands a little taller when he gives you his phone. He’ll have to remember to thank Krypto for the assist.

Today he’s been a good dog.

And an even better matchmaker.

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eviesaurusrex · 22 days ago

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Surprise Berries

pairing; jake seresin x pregnant!reader

summary; You want to bake a cake to reveal jake the gender of your baby. One small detail, you're colorblind.

word count; 1.1k

warnings; none!!! a few tears but it's a fluff fest

a/n; a palette cleanser after the fic full of smut i just posted lol

masterlist

You had imagined every detail.

The kitchen bathed in golden light just before sunset.

Jake walking through the door in his flight suit, smelling like the wind and the sea and jet fuel — sun-kissed and grinning, asking where his surprise was. You’d hand him the knife. He’d lean in, both of you shoulder to shoulder, slicing into the cake together. A clean cut through soft sponge, revealing the perfect color inside. Then: laughter, tears, arms around each other. A kiss, a name already whispered. A moment worthy of retelling a hundred times.

You had practiced for weeks. You’d baked half a dozen trial cakes, perfected your frosting skills with the help of YouTube tutorials and too much buttercream, spent an entire morning balancing strawberries and blueberries in a ring like tiny flags of hope. The final version stood proudly on the counter now — three white tiers, delicately stacked, shimmering under the amber glow of the kitchen lights.

But it wasn’t about the fruit.

It was about what was inside.

You’d used just the right amount of dye. Measured it out with trembling fingers. Stirred it carefully. Pictured his face — that crooked grin, those bright eyes — the second he saw it.

The knife sat waiting beside the cake, its silver edge glinting beside your shaking hand.

You were ready.

Until you heard the key turn in the front door.

Your breath caught.

You smoothed your hands over your dress, heart pounding, just as his boots hit the hardwood.

“Sweetheart?” Jake’s voice called, deep and warm, echoing through the quiet hallway. “Something smells like heaven in here.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and stepped forward. “Hi. You’re just in time.”

He appeared in the kitchen doorway a second later, the last of the sunlight hitting his shoulders like it knew where to find beauty. Flight suit unzipped halfway, T-shirt clinging to him, hair tousled from the helmet — he looked like something out of a dream. Your dream.

Jake grinned when he saw the cake. “Well, would you look at that?” His eyes lit with surprise, admiration, affection. “You went all out.”

“I wanted it to be special,” you murmured, heart fluttering.

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his palm resting firmly on the small of your back — a touch so familiar, so grounding, that your knees nearly gave. “It already is. What are we doing — cutting into it?”

You nodded. “Just us. Like we said.”

He picked up the knife, offering it to you first. “Ready?”

You weren’t. Not really. You were a bundle of nerves and high hopes, your throat tight and your hands clammy. But you nodded anyway.

Jake steadied your hand over the handle. You sliced together — slowly, carefully — the blade gliding clean through sponge and buttercream.

Then he cut another slice. Lifted it.

And time stopped.

You stared at the center.

Jake tilted his head, confused. “Huh. Is it… pistachio or something?”

Inside the cake was green.

Not blue.

Not pink.

Green.

You blinked once. Twice. The color didn’t change.

You stared, stunned. Your throat closed.

And just like that — it hit.

“I messed it up,” you whispered, stepping back from the island. “Oh my God, I messed it up—”

Jake looked up sharply, smile fading. “What? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I ruined it,” you choked, waving helplessly toward the cake. “It was supposed to be—I don’t know what I did wrong. I followed everything exactly, I tested it, I practiced—”

You pressed a hand to your mouth as the first tear slipped free.

He was by your side in an instant.

Jake pulled you in, his arms wrapping tight around you, one hand cradling the back of your head like he could physically shield you from the disappointment crashing down around you.

“Shh,” he whispered, rocking you gently. “It’s okay. Look at me. Baby, it’s okay.”

“I wanted it to be perfect,” you mumbled into his chest. “I wanted to surprise you. I had this whole plan—”

He leaned back just enough to look at you, brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You did surprise me. You made a whole damn cake. You set this up, just for us. That’s already more than perfect.”

“But it’s green, Jake.”

He smiled, a soft laugh catching in his throat. “So maybe we’re having a forest goblin. I’ll take it.”

You let out a teary laugh.

Jake glanced toward the bowl of berries on the counter. His eyes sparked with mischief. “Okay, plan B.”

You blinked. “What?”

He grabbed the bowl, holding it out between you like a sacred object. “Strawberries and blueberries, right? Red or blue. Just like the cake was supposed to be.”

You stared, still half-sniffling. “Jake, what are you talking about?”

He smirked. “I close my eyes. You pick the one that gives me the answer. Easy. We make a memory. You still get your surprise.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious. C’mon. I’m giving you a moment here.”

You hesitated.

Then you reached down, heart in your throat, and picked the berry you’d planned for all along.

Jake shut his eyes, playful but patient.

You raised your hand slowly.

Pressed the berry to his lips.

He took it, bit gently, chewed.

His eyes popped open.

“No way.”

You smiled, nervous and hopeful and wide-eyed.

“A boy?” he said, stunned. And then — “We’re having a boy?!”

You nodded, and he whooped, actually whooped, lifting you off the floor in one strong swoop, arms banded around your waist, spinning you once like a man who had no idea what else to do with all the joy in his chest.

He kissed you, breathless and smiling, then looked at you like you’d just handed him the whole world.

“A son,” he whispered in awe. “I’m gonna teach him how to throw a spiral. And how to land a clean punch. And how to make pancakes without setting the kitchen on fire.”

You laughed against his chest. “He’ll definitely need that last one.”

Jake leaned in and kissed you again — soft and deep, reverent.

“I love you,” he said. “More than I know how to say. Green cake and all.”

You tucked your face into his neck, letting yourself be held.

The cake hadn’t been what you imagined.

The moment hadn’t gone to plan.

But it was real. It was yours.

And it was perfect.

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