#I can't get over everything he could really be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamitv · 2 days ago

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Your pervy fwb!Suguru is the kinda guy who sits there on the phone with his cock all hard and aching, listening to you ramble about God knows what because he hasn't been paying attention to shit aside from that gorgeous tone of your voice for the past thirty minutes straight.

With mumbles of, "Uhuh," and, "Mhmm," after just about everything you say as he stares down at his sprawled out legs, he's left watching himself twitch against his thigh all eagerly--just begging for some sort of attention.

And of course it gets worse when you let out this sigh and ask him, "Suguru, are you okay? You're so quiet tonight." in that sweet ass tone of yours, as if you were completely unaware of what exactly it did to him (you were).

Suguru would let a hum simper deep within his throat while his hand slides down and he adjusts himself against the fabric of his sweats. "I'm fine, gorgeous. Keep talkin'." He'd reply all huskily.

You're too caught up in your little story to notice the lowered pitch in his voice so, naturally, you end up carrying on with the rather one-sided conversation. Suguru, who's going insane on his end of the line, just can't help but at least let his palm run over the outline of his thick needy cock.

It's just something to keep him tame for now, of course, nothing more nor less. That is, until you decide to video call him.

He almost groaned at the notification alone. Your voice was working wonders for him already and now you had the audacity to pair it with the sight of your overly tempting face?

It doesn't take him more than a few second to answer that call of yours, watching as you prop your phone up and move around your bedroom to show him something. His room is dark and he briefly explains to you how he's too lazy to prop his phone up as well.

Which is how you ended up showing him various of pieces of clothing you'd purchased today, speaking to an overall black screen and only earning very short and almost suspicious comments in response from the male on the other end.

"Oh and I really like this top, see?" You ramble on, holding the item up closer to the phone and hearing the way Suguru lets out a long sigh. You start to catch on there but you're more suspicious then you are sure of what he's doing.

If not for the way he cleared his throat and said, "Put it on 'n show me," you probably would've began questioning him again.

With a soft hum, you turn around and strip yourself of your current top, tossing it elsewhere as you prep your new shirt for your body. Unbeknownst to you, Suguru's on his end losing his mind.

That natural curve in your spine, the very simple sight of your bra from the back--all things he's seen before, yes, but the sight never fails to turn him all the way on. His hips are lifting into the curve of his palm before he even realizes it and he's starting to fully rub against his erection now.

By the time you get your new shirt on and turn back around to face him and show him, his eyes are rolling back a bit and a soft curse is hissing out of his throat at the sight. Luckily enough for him, the phone doesn't pick it up.

"See? Isn't it cute?" You ask sweetly, causing the twitching head of his cock to drip all ludicrously against the fabric of his boxers. He almost has to shove his fist into his mouth to stop himself from groaning again.

Clearing his throat again, "Mm.. mhm, yeah." He huffs out all too breathily. Suguru swallows thickly again and he's really a few seconds away from tugging his cock out and jerking off right then and there but, he doesn't want to be rude (yet). "Would' look cuter on my bedroom floor right now but, I digress."

You could feel heat creeping up to the surfaces of your skin and your eyes wander to the side all shyly before you lean toward the phone, unintentionally giving him a gorgeous view of the way that top frames your tits. "If you want me to come over, just say that." You chuckle, biting back a bashful grin.

Suguru lets his head lull back and then a sly smile spreads out across his lips, "I can't wait that long."

"I knew it," You're scoffing almost instantly. You had a feeling he'd been turned on from the moment he got on the initial call with you but now it was more apparent than ever. Picking the phone, "So what do you want me to do then?"

"Just..." He trails off for a second to bite his bottom lip, having released his fully hard cock from the confines of his sweats and grown surprised at how much of a mess he's made of himself already. "Hah, just keep talkin'." Suguru requests all heavily.

You pause for a moment just to drive him all the more insane and then with a click of your tongue, you prop your phone back up and shrug, "Only if you show me-"

You barely get to finish the rest of that statement before he's turning up the brightness on his phone and propping the device up perfectly, using your room lighting to illuminate his widely spread legs and fat cock resting against his abdomen now.

Your voice gets caught in your throat and you almost choke at the sight. "W-Well shit, someone's eager." You murmur, trying to play off your increasing embarrassment. Had your rambling really gotten him that hard? You hadn't even said anything remotely worth growing aroused, in your opinion anyway.

Suguru parts his legs a little wider and you watch his thick fingers wrap the drooling slit of his tip before spreading the mess of precum all down his veiny shaft and letting out a pretty groan of relief under his breath. "All 'cause of you, yeah," He says softly.

To which you roll your eyes, "Oh please, you're just a perv."

"Am I?" Suguru replies, squeezing his hand around his cock before giving himself slow upward tugs with a little roll of his wrist. You could just barely see the way he was smirking and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

"I'd say yes but, I think you'd like that too much, Sugu." You hum instead, tilting your head as all thoughts of your previous haul go flying out the window. Who could think about clothes when they had the prettiest cock displayed to them in such a slutty fashion?

Suguru chuckles, "You've got me all figured out, huh?"

His hand tightens around his shaft, thumb flicking against that one sensitive vein he knows you've got memorized in that filthy head of yours--mimicking the way you typically handle his cock to get him off properly.

Still watching him with unmoving eyes, "I think so, yeah." You say in an all too soft voice. He could tell he was starting to affect you now, even with your bottom half out of view, Suguru would bet everything that your thighs were all tightly clenched together.

"Yeahh?" He purrs out in response, cocking his head to the side as his hand picks up the pace just a bit, "Well, I think I've.. shit, I've got you figured out too."

"Bullshit." You breathe out all too quickly.

Yeah, you weren't fooling anyone, especially not him.

Smiling now, "Really? So, you're not enjoying this?" Suguru begins to tease, removing his hand from himself and letting his dick twitch in the air for a moment. He was torturing himself on purpose, just for the sake of your entertainment.

You watch greedily as more slick oozes out of his bobbing tip, saliva unknowingly welling up against the caverns of your mouth. It's slow but, eventually you remember to respond to him, "I.. I didn't say that."

"You didn't say you were either," He points out, lifting his hips a little just so you could watch the way his cock sways all heavily in the air--throbbing and desperate for some more attention.

Your thighs do, in fact, draw closer together and you even end up picking up your phone and moving over to lay on your bed. "And I'm not going to," You tell him.

Suguru groans and quickly brings his hand back to his wet dick, giving himself barely enough stimulation at each syllable that exits those saliva-slicked lips of yours. "You should, it'd help me cum faster," He argues hoarsely.

You roll your eyes and almost deadpan into the camera, "You're gonna cum quick no matter what I do."

It's then that Suguru starts laughing genuinely, despite the quick strokes he's gifting himself with his hand. You even watch him thrust up into his hand while his brows meet slightly before he says, "It's so fuckin' cute when you try to act like you're the one in control."

The scoff you release is almost immediate, "I'm not acting, I-"

"As if you're not the one.. mmgh, finishing first every time we fuck. Making the prettiest lil' mess around me every single time." His head falls back, lengthy black locks splayed all out against his shoulders and chest, also falling back with the angle of his head.

Then, he rolls his neck a bit just to make sure you see him looking directly at you, his hand moving a lot quicker along his shaft now, "Hell, as if you're not sitting there fighting the urge to stuff that pretty pussy with a finger or two just from watchin' me." He says bluntly.

Your face heats up instantly and a response falls flat on your tongue as your brain scrambles for something equally as filthy to say in response.

Before you could get the chance, Suguru's shaking his head and slowing his hand down as he meets the hefty base of his cock, "That's all it takes for you anyway," He murmurs, shooting a messy glob of spit down onto his tip and moaning at the contact.

"Aren't you the one getting off on my voice right now?" You breathe out, shifting against your bed and trying to ignore the gradual soak of your panties.

He smiles all too cockily for your liking and slips his hand upwards again, the sound catching on the line and hitting your ears way too moistly for your liking. With a downright nasty schlickk, you sit there watching and listening to him jerk off like some kinda professional, "Aren't you the one who asked me to show you the way I get off to your voice?" He points out.

You force yourself to glance away before you start drooling and whisper, "Stop deflecting, Suguru."

"Aww," He coos in a tone condescending enough to make your cunt throb and your thighs clench together even tighter. "Stop acting like it doesn't turn you on, pretty girl," He fires back.

Your eyes slowly trail back to the phone and his cock is all but glossed over in the prettiest mix of cum and saliva now, glistening in the camera and gorgeous enough for you to pull your lower lip in between your teeth.

You always hated loved how Suguru had the prettiest cock you'd ever laid eyes on. From the length, to every curvy vein, to it's sinful thickness and weight-, you could go on about the things you loved about his dick. But what always made it worse is the fact that he knows how to use it.

And acts like it too.

Even so, you harmlessly scoff and say, "...I'm gonna hang up." Slowly enough for him to fight back another laugh.

"And leave me all hard like this?" He teases, grinning knowingly. "Look at it, princess. Look at how needy I am for you, c'mon," Suguru challenges all of a sudden. He quickly earns your undivided attention and could practically feel your eyes traveling the length of his cock, "I dare you to hang up and leave me to tend to alll of this by myself."

You go silent and just watch him jerk off to your staring now, hearing his breathing grow heavier and watching his hips begin to lift as he thrusts into his hand.

"Yeahh, that's what I thought." Your friend with benefits chuckles out, "Now..." He pauses with one tighter grip on his shaft and stuffs down a heavy groan. "Lemme see how.. mgh, fuuck... lemme see how soaked my girl is over there."

A/N: Not proofread, sorry for errors, if any. & also completely off topic but send me ideas for kinktober PUHLEASEEE <3

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dumbbandpoetic · 2 days ago

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જ⁀➴°⋆ accidentally in love

°⋆ pairing: clark kent x coworker!reader

°⋆ summary: in which clark has been in love with his coworker since the first day she walked through the door. one day she brings in cookies, and he can't help but confess everything to her.

°⋆ warnings: no use of y/n, clark is a pathetic loser, user is a bubbly piece of sunshine, accidental love confession, i dont know how to end fics so the ending is probably bad

°⋆ wc: 1.5k

Clark Kent’s in love.

He has been ever since she first walked into the Daily Planet. She was a bundle of joy, with chunky heels, colourful tights, and the biggest smile Clark had seen in his entire life. And he grew up in Smallville. Everyone in Smallville was happy. Just not like she was.

She clocked in to work excitedly every day, with this energy that seemed to wave over the entire room. Everyone that was in the room when she entered would start to smile, sit straighter. There was just something about her that was undeniable. He’d never met anyone like her in his entire life. And Clark was head over heels for it.

The thing was, though, that it’d been a while since Clark had tried to pursue a girl. In high school, he’d had this kind of suave, farmboy charm. Or so he’d been told. It was easier then, because he was the biggest guy in school, on the football team, and actually pretty cool for small town standards. The big city was a whole other problem. Now, he was just another big, bumbling dork.

But she was so amazing. She brought various baked goods to work when she experimented with recipes, each one better than the last, or so it seemed. Every time he tried one, Clark would lavish praise on her (and whatever he’d just eaten), just to see her smile.

He had to do something about it. Jimmy said it was pretty much a done deal, that she must be in love with him. Every day she’d pass his desk with a bright smile, stopping to talk for just a few minutes, beaming brightly at him like he had made her whole entire day. Which was nice, until he saw her give the same smile to everybody else.

Some things were different. She didn’t really talk to anyone like she talked to Clark. There was something akin to tension between them, and according to Jimmy and Lois, they’d been flirting a lot over the last couple days. It’s been evolving, because Clark is strategic. It started with a compliment of her outfit that day. Then he said he needed help with an article so she’d lean over him and attempt to salvage whatever fake stuff he’d written for a couple minutes. Now there were teasing remarks passed between them. Progress is what he called it.

Today was no different than any other day. Clark has memorised what time she comes into work, and when he’s not busy with his Superman duties, he tries to get there 5 minutes early so that he can watch her effect take place. Also so he could watch her walk to her desk, maybe say hello. Her desk was further in the bullpen than his - it would take an extra effort to get there, make his “little” crush even more obvious.

When she walked in, Clark’s head perked up, like a dutiful puppy. He straightens his posture, opens the camera on his computer to fix his hair, before looking back at her. Today, she’s holding a cookie tin. And her eyes are zeroed right on him, that familiar huge smile on her face. Clark smiles back, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

When she reaches his desk, she hands him the tin of cookies excitedly. “I tried a new recipe last night. Dying to know what you think.” She was practically buzzing beside him.

He pops open the tin, and as soon as the smell hits the air, Jimmy and Lois are crowding around his desk too. “Could I…?” Both of them speak at the same time, and she nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, please! I need feedback so I know if I need to tweak it.” She squeals. Clark looks down at the cookies. They’re circular, sandwich, with cream and strawberry jam in the middle. When he glances back up at her, the look on her face is priceless. Like she’s just anticipating a great reaction. Jimmy and Lois are chattering as they eat up, as many as they can before everyone else crowds, but Clark is slow. He’s contemplating. He takes a bite, and his entire persona melts.

“Oh my god, this is- amazing.” He grins, looking up at her as a few crumbs tumble down his lips. He can’t help it, despite the fact it’s definitely not polite to talk while he’s still eating. “Really, fantastic.”

Her whole face lights up, if that’s even possible anymore. “I hope you’re not just saying that to get in my pants, Clark.” Her tone is teasing, but he’s too busy reaching for another cookie to really pay attention to her. So, before he can filter himself, he says.

“No, I really love you.” Jimmy and Lois go silent beside them. The three of them all stare at him. And then he realises what he said, and his cheeks go redder than a tomato. “I mean- I love- I love the cookies. Sorry. My head’s… somewhere else, I guess. Sorry.”

What a save.

Both Jimmy and Lois mumble something about having to get to work, leaving to go sit back at their desks and avoid what is sure to be an awkward conversation. “Well, uhm… if you like them that, much, Clark, I’ll leave them with you.” She smiles, but this time it’s awkward, closed off, and she scampers off to her desk.

The rest of the whole day is miserable. Clark just stares at his laptop all day, unable to type out more than three words per hour. Essentially, he’s just been rejected. The confession was an accident. And it wasn’t anything like he’d imagined it in his head.

In his head, one night, they were going to have gotten to the point where he’d offer to walk her home. They’d chat, amicably, and then he’d ask her if she wanted to grab something quick to eat. Then he’d walk with her to her building, tuck her hair behind her ear, tell her how he felt. Maybe if she felt so inclined, she’d invite him back up to her apartment, and they could watch a movie together, and then he’d leave at an appropriate time.

This little incident threw a wrench in that plan. None of that was going to happen now. Because he’d ruined it.

When the work day was over, Clark watched her pack up at the exact minute, dashing out without making eye contact with anyone. So completely unlike her. God, was it that bad?

He packed up as quick as he could, putting a little bit of “spring” in his step. He caught up with her only when she left the building, and tentatively, his hand reaches out to stop her. “Hey, wait- wait a second, I need to talk to you-”

She turns to him, the usual joy in her eyes dimmed just a little bit. “Clark, did you really mean what you said?”

“I-” He stops, looking down at her. He blinks a few times, once, twice, because words aren’t forming in his mouth. He clears his throat. “Maybe it was a little exaggerated, but… yeah. I like you. Maybe a little more than like. Not love. Love is really intense.”

He was definitely in love, but she didn’t need to know that. It would probably freak her out even more. He watches some light come back to her eyes, which is a good sign. “I’m sorry about how I reacted earlier, Clark, I’m just really used to people… lying about that stuff.” She mumbles sheepishly, and then starts to ramble, which Clark is accustomed to by now. “Like, in college, I dated this guy who was dared to go out with me, and I didn’t know about it. And I know you’re not like that. But I freaked out. I like you too. A lot. That’s why I freaked out.”

Clark smiles down at her, trying to push down the giddy feeling in his chest, because he felt like jumping up and clicking his heels in the air, which he was way too big for. He’d look ridiculous doing it. But his grin is practically splitting his face in half, and his dimples are aching with it.

“Do you think I could take you to dinner tonight?” He asks sheepishly, shifting his briefcase from one hand to the other a few times. He hadn’t been this nervous since his interview for his job.

“Yeah, I think that would be okay.” She grins, nodding her head. Immediately, his hand finds hers, and their fingers lace together.

“I know a good spot.”

credits to dollywons for dividers!

clark kent taglist: @thankschef-blog (to be added) (just ask!)

#✧﹑emma's writing #clark kent #superman #superman 2025 #david corenswet #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent one shot #clark kent 2025 #superman x reader #superman x you #superman fanfiction #dc #dc fanfiction

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lonelyslutavatar · 3 days ago

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Tmagp ep 49 spoilers

I fucking called it. Gwen's informant WAS Augustus. I said before that Jon might be doing the same thing when he was sending an email to Sam and I'm still convinced he (or Martin) will try contacting either Celia or Alice (probably Alice now that she's back and actively investigating the horrors)

First, Gwen gets Lena--the only one who actually knows what she's doing--fired, then fires Every Single External in their payroll, THEN cuts ties with probably the only thing that could protect them from any angry eldritch ex-employees coming over to the OIAR demanding an explanation for their sudden termination. Gwen really be making one dumbfuck move after another as usual. Ngl she reminds me of some incredibly incompetent bosses irl that I don't think anything she does to redeem herself in the future will get me to like her.

Gwen saying you need to MASTER the Dreads while angering every single external she encounters meanwhile Alice just spent several weeks being in a buddy cop relationship with freaking Heinrich Unheimlich.

I think Alice should meet Ink5oul. I think Alice and Ink5oul should kiss.

I can't believe Elias got brutal pipe murdered.

Alice casually throwing the cursed toy at Gwen, you know she's lowkey hoping it would eat Gwen on the spot.

So if the toy is now in Gwen's hands, I wonder if it'll go back to Alice or Gwen will somehow manage to fuck things up even further by giving it to Celia.

I'm so glad Lena has fucked off to god knows where. I hope she enjoys her life wherever she is and not come back to the story.

Lena is like one of those senior developers that randomly gets fired because the company didn't understand the point of her job and now is begging her to come back because everything is suddenly broken.

#tmagp 49 #tmagp spoilers

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megalony · 3 days ago

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Office Enemies

This is a new David! Clark Kent imagine I had a little idea for and I really enjoyed writing this one.

I hope you will all like it, please comment and let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo @sabsthedoll @rach2602 @itshamleth @ladespedidas @devilslittlehelper @buckslifeline @wanniiieeee @jaydaaasworld @theelementofsurprisee @andrewgarfieldislife @lover-rep-fanfic

@elliott-calls

Main Masterlist

Summary: While Clark tries to be the level-headed one at work, (Y/n) can't help but losing her temper at a certain co-worker everyone dislikes. And Clark, being the loving partner he is, does what he can to look after (Y/n) and calm her down.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why was he awake?

Confusion ebbed away at Clark's mind like someone gently tapping him to try and gain his attention. He could feel a headache forming with each second that ticked by allowing his mind to properly light up and start to function.

He should have been fast asleep. It took Clark long enough to turn off his brain when he had so many distractions and irritations that pestered him at night. Everything from the sound of the clock in the living room ticking the seconds by to the couple two floors below who always watched horror movies late into the night. Clark had to turn his brain off to all of it, and that took time and effort.

It was a relief that usually, when he went to sleep, he could settle and get a proper night's sleep. His brain had been highly tuned to ignoring the little noises, the insignificant sounds and only focusing on sounds that could be signs of distress or panic or an intruder.

And of course, (Y/n). He was very highly tuned to listen out for her whenever they spent the night at one another's places.

A groan found its way past Clark's lips and his deep ocean blue eyes squinted as he tried his best to figure out his surroundings.

Where was he? Was he at home- no, Clark knew he wasn't at home. The sounds were different. There was no ticking clock in the living room, the soft buzzing coming from the fridge was more prominent and the midnight breeze rattled the bedroom window frame.

This wasn't his apartment, this was (Y/n)'s. That sorted out one of the dozen questions floating around Clark's mind. As he managed to open his eyes, he realised that it was still very late into the night, or extremely early in the morning, because the room was shrouded with darkness.

With one exception; a blinding, illuminating light.

So that was why he was awake. Clark had the distinct feeling and memory in the back of his mind that when he went to sleep, (Y/n) had been laid down with him. It wasn't often that he tried to go to sleep before (Y/n), usually when he stayed over he was the last one awake. Or he had to nip out in his suit and cape and came crawling back through the window, trying to be quiet so he didn't wake her.

He was sure (Y/n) had been settled or on her way to sleep when he closed his eyes. Not anymore. Now she was wide awake.

She wasn't laid tucked under his arm anymore where Clark was sure she had been when he went to sleep.

Now, (Y/n) was sat up in bed with her shoulders moulded back into the pillows stacked up behind her, and her laptop was perched on her thighs. Clark realised what had woke him up in the first place, it was the soft clicking her her fingers gliding over the keys.

Clark's nose scrunched up as he lifted his head from the pillow, already knowing that his hair looked a right mess. He could feel each curl stuck up in all directions like he was awaiting a bird to come and land in the nest on top of his head.

It hurt to keep his eyes open in the darkness when the illuminating light from the laptop was like kryptonite burning his vision. So he tried angling his head back to look up at (Y/n) instead.

She looked beyond tired, like it was far too much of a strain to keep her eyes open and Clark could see her hands flexing and subtly shaking as she typed. She wasn't typing very fast either, usually her fingers worked over the keys in such a manner that rivalled Clark's metahuman speed. But right now, (Y/n) looked like she was trying to work an old type writer, jamming one key at a time.

"Sweetheart it's… two in the morning, you need to sleep." He angled his head back to see the time on the alarm clock behind him before he stared back up at (Y/n) through narrow, squinting eyes.

The rough edge to his sleep-deprived voice made (Y/n) shiver and her hands paused over the keyboard, eyes closing for a moment too long which made it even worse to open then again and try to force herself to keep going.

"I- I have to get this piece done, I won't be long."

An idea hit (Y/n) like a train just when she thought her mind was on the brink of switching off. Midnight ideas always seemed to be the best ones, and (Y/n) didn't want to forget it. She would rather make herself feel ill and get the idea written down than risk forgetting it or losing the inspiration in the morning.

It didn't matter whether the article she was working on sounded broken and incoherent in the morning. As long as (Y/n) got the main idea down in a draft now, she could edit it and patch it up much easier tomorrow.

"I told you earlier to put it away." There was something commanding about his voice that made (Y/n)'s stomach flip itself upside down.

Clark might still be half asleep right now, but he distinctly remembered telling (Y/n) to try and rest earlier this evening and to try and sleep when they turned the tv off tonight.

She'd had an absent seizure earlier in the evening and it took a while for her to feel better and back to normal afterwards. Clark knew it wasn't such a good idea to be going back to her laptop and overworking herself, she would likely induce another seizure and make herself feel ill. And he certainly didn't want that happening.

They had both been working themselves hard at the Daily Planet. There seemed to be a lot of pressure recently for getting articles in and rivalling for the front page.

As much as Clark understood that it seemed easier to get the article drafted now and worry about editing tomorrow, it wasn't going to make her feel better. And she could hardly edit the article and work on more tomorrow if she worked herself to the ground and made herself sick.

The quiet whine that left (Y/n)'s lips when Clark slid his hand beneath her laptop and lifted it from her lap made his blood tingle and bubble over, but it didn't stop him.

He hovered her laptop a few inches above her thighs, clearly giving her five seconds to safe the draft before he closed it.

"Clark, baby please-"

"Nope, you can finish it in the morning. Lay down."

There was no arguing with him, that much was certain. (Y/n) clicked the save button before powering off the laptop, which Clark set down on his side of the floor with ease so it wouldn't be trodden on come morning.

(Y/n) wouldn't admit it, but the darkness was welcoming to her eyes and eased the headache pounding in her temple.

She couldn't help but close her eyes and shuffle down against the pillows, especially when Clark bound his arm around her waist the moment she laid down. His large palm pressed against her middle and he shuffled closer until his bare chest was glued up against her back, allowing him to smother his lips against the side of her neck.

Clark was glad he'd stayed over tonight.

He knew if he hadn't of been here and (Y/n) got that idea in her head, she would have been up all night trying to finish it. She was going to burn out if she carried on like this, a lot of them at the office were going to end up that way. But Clark didn't want that happening to (Y/n). Not to his girl, especially not if it was going to play havoc with her epilepsy.

They both knew she had been seizing more than normal lately and it was worrying him to no end.

He didn't want work to be getting (Y/n) down or making her feel worse and having a bad effect on her health.

Not again.

When the sharp, incessant pain struck behind (Y/n)'s temple and surged towards the back of her head, she clamped her teeth down on her tongue to hold back a groan.

She tried her best to focus herself, to get her brain back in gear and look at all the notes she had scattered around her desk, but it didn't seem to be working in her favour. (Y/n) couldn't focus. Her brain wasn't playing along or doing what it was told.

(Y/n) needed to focus, she needed to organise her notes and write up her article that she had been planning, but it wasn't happening.

She had her main notebook spread out across the right side of her desk, pages pinned open so she could copy up the lines she had already written in haste. And her small note pad was open just to her left, the one where she jotted down all the facts she had confirmed and the list of her sources to refer back to if need be.

Everything was ready, and her laptop was open and waiting with only two paragraphs done so far and a dozen or more left to go.

This needed to get done. This article needed to be ready by the end of the day because it was one that (Y/n) needed to send to Perry for his thoughts. It was a big story, one that the other city papers hadn't gotten hold of yet and the sooner this was exposed, the better.

Once again, (Y/n) hovered her hands over the keys on her laptop, a pencil prized between her index and middle fingers in case she had to point to her notebook for recollection.

One word was all that she coule manage. One lousy word to start off the next paragraph before her eyes were falling closed and her elbows were pinning against her sides as if it would do anything to ease her discomfort.

Sleep had evaded (Y/n) last night, just like it had the night before when she tried to write up her last article. Her mind was exhausted and she could feel tears welling up behind her eyes when she looked down and realised she was shaking. Again. Her hands were trembling above the keyboard and her body was jittering back and forth in her chair like invisible hands were wrenching her around, just for fun.

"Come on…" Spurring herself on didn't seem to work very well because when (Y/n) opened her eyes and stared at her laptop screen, she realised in horror that her vision was starting to blur.

She tried to recite the lines from her notebook, muttering them under her breath in a vain attempt to get them down on the blurred screen, but that too didn't help.

This article was too important to leave and come back to later. (Y/n) didn't want to take a break or head home and pick this up when she felt better. She needed her body to cooperate with her, to work as it should instead of constantly malfunctioning and making her feel horrid at the most inconvenient of times.

But she could feel it coming.

The constant pounding in the back of her head, that fog rolling on over her mind, the way her limbs were tremblind yet tensing up like she was a clay figure starting to harden in the brisk air.

A seizure was pending.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a seizure at work, it wasn't something that happened often; not like the amount of seizures she had while in Clark's presence. It used to feel embarrassing until (Y/n) soon realised that Clark was the most calming person and presence she had in her life, and she knew she was always safe and looked after if she seized and he was there.

Her right hand tried to reach out at her side, to flap around and grab hold of Clark's arm to gain his attention.

It was a stroke of luck that their desks had been placed next to each other when they both started working here.

Clark was used to (Y/n) tapping his shoulder when they were sat at their desks. He was always grinning and waiting for that little touch or her distant, focused voice uttering a word that she needed Clark to substitute for a better one. Or when she couldn't find the word on the tip of her tongue, she would start reading her sentence quietly or even under her breath so Clark could help find the word she was looking for.

They worked well together like that, solving their problems and editing one another's work, ironing out the kinks so that when their articles went to be edited, not a lot needed to be done.

But her hand couldn't reach Clark. Her arm felt like a block of cement, too heavy to lift or stretch out towards her personal saviour. All she could do was drop her arm on the edge of Clark's desk while her eyes snapped closed in a vain attempt to relieve the thundering headache taking over each and every one of her senses.

"Clark…"

(Y/n) hated how desperate and whining her tone sounded and how she could barely whimper his name as her throat went dry and felt like it was closing up.

Something stirred in the pit of Clark's stomach when he heard her say his name like that and the feeling shot through his blood like drugs igniting within him and livening up his system. The feeling was somewhat similar to how it felt when people called out for Superman, when he heard the desperate or in need asking and begging and crying for his help.

But this was different, this created a knot in his stomach and a piercing pain in the bottom of his chest like an arrow had caught his heart.

His head snapped to the left, glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose and his fingers stopped mid-air, poised above his keyboard as he looked at (Y/n).

He barely had time to zoom his eyes around her frame to scan for any sign of a problem before her head dropped.

The sound her forehead made when it bashed into the edge of the desk sounded so loud in Clark's ears it was as if he had just heard a bomb impact right beside him. His broad shoulders twitched and coiled up out of instinct and a wince rolled across his face.

He didn't seem to blink once, his gaze never tearing away from (Y/n) for a moment, watching in growing panic and terror as her body started to shake and writhe and her desk chair started to wheel and move back along the floor.

She was seizing.

"Oh gosh!"

Clark's chair screeched as he shot up to his feet, arms already stretched out in front of him as he stumbled to (Y/n)'s side. It took a lot of control and comprehension for Clark to remind himself that he was in the office.

He couldn't use his speed here in the office, despite the short distance between him and (Y/n). He couldn't zoom to her side and get her laid out on the floor as fast as he would do when they were in the privacy of their apartments.

Once he was crouched beside her chair, he pressed his left foot behind the back wheel of her chair to stop it from moving backwards. She was tremoring that much that the chair was sliding on the floor and the last thing they needed was (Y/n) falling onto the floor and giving herself an unintentional injury.

His jaw locked as he slid his right hand in between (Y/n)'s temple and the desk, carefully shimmying her head up so it wasn't constantly bashing down on the desk. Her note pads were already wavering on the desk and her laptop had moved three inches backwards towards the edge of the desk with her sudden jerking movements.

"Oh- do you need help?"

Clark lifted his head at the sound of Lois's voice and the concern in her eyes was comforting, but he shook his head anyway. He knew what he was doing, he had got (Y/n) covered.

"S'alright," He murmured as his tense knees pushed up so he was just a little higher up than (Y/n).

With his left hand on her back, Clark carefully eased (Y/n)'s head towards him until her temple was bashing and jerking into his shoulder. At least his blazer jacket would soften the blow so she didn't bruise or concuss herself.

"Here we go sweetheart, come on."

His hands found her waist and when he shuffled back a few paces, he took (Y/n)'s weight and eased her off her chair.

This was a dance they had done many times before, although not strictly here in the office in this setting. But Clark still knew what he was doing and how to look after her during a seizure. He was glad this happened while he was here and not when he was out trying to scout for a new topic or out confirming sources and facts.

He nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with his shoulder while he arched forwards, leaning over (Y/n) once she was on the ground.

One hand cupped the back of her neck while the other started to glide up and down her waist, keeping (Y/n) laid on her left side with her back against his knees so she didn't jerk and roll backwards. Both arms were stretched out in front of her so she didn't bash and whack herself or cause any injuries.

Clark could see that this seizure wasn't going to get any worse, she was trembling but her limbs weren't lashing out in all directions. Her neck wasn't bent forward, she wasn't biting her tongue and her limbs weren't locked tight like they usually would. (Y/n) was already starting to calm and her thrashing was lessening by the second.

"That's it, you're okay sweetheart. You're doing great," Leaning over, Clark pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder while he started to brush his thumb along the side of her neck. Stroking in a slow, languid motion to try and give her something to focus on and bring her back to reality with him.

Clark didn't bother to lift his head and look at the sea of faces that were now watching them.

He could feel their eyes burning into his skin like they all had the laser vision he possessed. It irked him. He understood to a point that they were colleagues, that everyone was trying to see what was happening and if they could help. But they were all gawping.

How was staring at (Y/n) in distress going to help her in any way? They should go back to their desks or to the break room or go about their day as normal and only stop and hover if Clark said he needed something. But instead, they were watching like this was their favourite show and they all wanted to know what would happen next.

When the jerking tremors finally started to subside and (Y/n) was left with little shakes like shockwaves, Clark sagged his head forward and closed his eyes in relief. He loosened his grip on the back of (Y/n)'s neck and started to glide his other hand up and down her waist.

He only lifted his head when he heard Perry's hushed voice cutting through the air like he wasn't sure whether he was intruding on a moment or not. "You both good, Kent? Need anything?"

Clark lifted his head, darting his tongue out to swipe across his lips as he glanced around the office. There was only one thing he needed, and he couldn't see Perry saying no.

"Can I take her home?"

It wasn't much of a request so much as a certainty, but Clark was ever the polite boy his mother had raised and he didn't want to just outright say he was going. He would much rather Perry give permission and say that he could certainly go than just tell Perry they were leaving.

"Off you go, message if you need anything or if she needs tomorrow off." Perry was nothing if understanding, and he was always kind when it came to (Y/n)'s epilepsy.

If she had seizures at work he was always asking her to take a break or if she needed the rest of the day off. If she called in sick he understood and only asked her to let him know when she thought she would be back so he could reassign tasks around the office.

And he certainly had no problem with Clark taking (Y/n) home, she couldn't very well leave on her own in this state. And no one would think it would be a good idea for (Y/n) to go home and be on her own after a seizure, she needed someone with her to make sure she was alright and keep an eye on her. Clark needed to take her home.

Clark heard what he was sure was his name trying to pass from (Y/n)'s lips and it caused a delicate grin to spread across his slightly panicked features.

"Okay, let's sit you up. We're heading home now,"

He waited until he saw (Y/n)'s eyes flutter open before he slid his hand beneath her neck and the other around her waist and carefully lifted her up from her side. He eased her back into his chest, hands flexing and tapping against her waist as he peered over her shoulder.

The last thing Clark wanted to do was to try and stand (Y/n) up or just pick her up straight away. He wanted to get her sitting up and check that she was lucid first and see how she was before he tried to help her up.

"N-no, work…" (Y/n) tried to point and flap her hand out towards her desk, but she could barely lift her arm up from her thigh.

And with how strained her voice was and how hard it seemed for (Y/n) to manage to splutter the words out, Clark doubted she would be in much shape to walk out of here. Carrying her might be his best option to get her back home quicker and safer, especially since she was prone to black outs after seizures like this.

"It's alright sweetheart, your article will be waiting for you tomorrow." Clark lifted his head and looked ahead in Jimmy's direction. "Jimmy, can you put her notes in my desk?"

"Sure thing." Out of everyone in the office, Jimmy seemed to be the most laid-back in this situation.

He wasn't hovering like a fly or gawping at (Y/n) or panicking or looking amused. He had stayed sitting at his desk, glancing over every now and then to see if (Y/n) was up yet or not. His desk was opposite Clark's, and Clark knew Jimmy wouldn't mind putting (Y/n)'s laptop and all of her notes into Clark's desk drawers- mainly because Clark's desk was more organised and had more space than (Y/n)'s.

Clark murmured a soft "Up we go," against (Y/n)'s temple as he slid an arm between her legs and the other cradled her lower waist. It took no effort to lift her up into his arms. And he knew (Y/n) had to be feeling very out of it because she didn't flush or gasp or tell him to put her down.

In any other situation (Y/n) would have shook with embarrassment and hid her face in his chest if Clark tried to pick her up in front of everyone in the office. But she could barely keep her eyes open and her thoughts weren't in the right order for her to realise people in the office could see Clark carrying her out like a Knight in shining armour.

(Y/n) let her cheek flop against Clark's shoulder, and one trembling hand reached up to cradle the side of his neck where she could feel his pulse throbbing like he had run a marathon.

If she had the energy, she would of tried to open her eyes and look over his shoulder at the office. At the fading image of her desk with her notes and her open laptop.

And if she did, (Y/n) might have seen Luke, one of the journalists she really didn't get along with, approaching her desk. She would have seen the way he leaned over her desk to look at her laptop.

But her eyes remained closed, her senses all consumed with the combination of fatigue and Clark.

No one seemed to notice Luke snap a few inconspicuous pictures of (Y/n)'s notes before he walked back to his desk.

***

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

That was the first thing anyone thought of when (Y/n) entered the office. It was all they could see, think and understand when (Y/n) passed them by with hands clenched into fists and a jaw locked so tight people expected to see her teeth shatter and her jaw break loose.

No one dared speak a word to her when she passed through reception like a whirlwind. Everyone in the lift glued their backs to the walls and stayed away from her in case she was a bomb that was about to detonate.

They watched as her foot tapped rapidly on the floor until they expected to see a dint in the floor once she left. Everyone saw how she jittered and moved back and forth, stood right in front of the doors like an omen.

But it was today's newspaper clasped in a death grip in (Y/n)'s right hand which set people on edge.

Seeing how she crumpled it into her fist and caused the ink to smudge against her fingertips. Seeing the way she bashed the paper against her thigh like she wanted to kill it. Watching how she kept glancing her eyes down to the paper as if to make sure that the front page hadn't changed since the last time she glared down at it.

That was frightening.

When the lift dinged and the doors opened, (Y/n) entered the floor like a tornado, her heels bashing against the tiled floor, announcing her presence.

"Hey you, didn't think you were coming in today…?" Jimmy's voice started to fade out towards the end and he wasn't sure whether he was asking her a question or just making conversation.

Clark had taken her home at lunch yesterday after her seizure and when Lois rang to check on (Y/n), he said she wouldn't be coming into work today. The reason why Clark had turned up alone this morning rather than alongside (Y/n) like they usually did.

No one was expecting to see her until tomorrow, and as Jimmy looked her up and down, he couldn't help but wince. She didn't look great. There were dark colours and bags under her eyes suggesting she hadn't managed to get much sleep. She looked exhausted and every few seconds she was shaking. Overall (Y/n) looked frail, she looked like she was about to drop down and have another seizure.

The only thing stopping her was the pure rage burning through her body which was keeping her up on her feet and keeping her eyes wide open when she had barely been able to open them at all yesterday.

A gruff "I wasn't." huffed past (Y/n)'s lips, but she didn't stop to talk to Jimmy. She raged past him, her eyes zoned in and focused on finding one person in particular.

A cloud of red shrouded (Y/n)'s tunnel vision and with each step, she felt like she was going to either throw up or collapse down the same as she had yesterday. A huge part of (Y/n) wished she had Clark's laser vision. If she did, she wouldn't care about anyone finding out or seeing, she would simply burn Luke to a crisp and turn the fan on his ashes.

Once she reached his desk where he was unceremoniously lounging in his desk chair with his feet propped up on his desk, (Y/n) announced her presence with a bang.

Her hand slammed down on the desk with such an echo that all other noise seemed to drown out and fade into silence.

She slammed the crumpled newspaper on Luke's desk, her palm pressed right over the headline that made her almost faint this morning when she saw it. The headline that was still floating around in her mind while all those words from that article raged in (Y/n)'s mind, taunting her until she wanted to be sick.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Terror swelled in Clark's gut when that all too familiar voice cut through him and made him spill the morning coffee over the counter.

His hands trembled as he slung the coffee pot back onto the side with haste and turned on his heels, struggling to rush out the break room without going too fast and causing attention to himself. He could feel a cold sweat washing over him at the sound of (Y/n)'s voice.

What was she doing here? Clark left her at the kitchen table this morning, barely awake as he got her meds out for her and told her to rest. Why had she come down to the office? And who was she yelling at?

Clark wasn't sure whether he was relieved or frightened when he saw that (Y/n) was stood looming over Luke like an omen of Death.

Part of him was relieved that (Y/n) wasn't shouting or upset with him, thank goodness, but it wasn't very comforting to see her shouting at the main prick of the office. Luke. The man who barely put any effort into his articles these days yet somehow managed to get a lot of the good assignments. The guy that was always sneering at Clark for getting interviews with Superman.

The person who had riled Clark up something rotten when he dared to criticise (Y/n)'s front page article last month simply because he was jealous.

"Can I help you, twitch?"

A growl echoed deep in Clark's chest when he heard that rude nickname pass Luke's lips- he knew it was referring to (Y/n)'s seizure yesterday, how rude and inconsiderate could he be?

"Write a retraction, that would bloody help for a start."

"Excuse me?" Luke's lips curled up into a sickening smirk and he reclined in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest like he was starting to enjoy (Y/n)'s unfiltered rage.

"Hey, hey what's happened?" Jimmy hurried their way at the same time as Clark did.

Reaching a cautious hand out, Clark curled his fingers around (Y/n)'s shoulder and stood just behind her. He didn't want to get in her way if Luke had done something he needed to be called out for, but making a scene might not be the best idea. Perry could still reprimand (Y/n) for being unprofessional, no matter what Luke may have done to deserve it.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" His voice was quiet enough that (Y/n) was the only one who heard him, but she couldn't focus on Clark's usually calming voice. Not when her blood was pounding in her ears.

With trembling fingers, (Y/n) picked up the crumpled and slightly ripped paper and held it out to Clark, almost waving it in his face until he let go of her shoulder to take the paper from her.

"Him. He- he stole my article, Clark." The desperation and raw hurt in (Y/n)'s voice made Clark wince and almost brought him to tears. "My notes, my facts and s- sources, he's used it all. That was my story."

(Y/n) felt like she could barely breathe.

She had glanced at the morning paper but her blood ran cold when she read the headline. That was the headline she had written on her notepad yesterday, the one she had perfected and knew would catch people's attention. Those first two paragraphs were virtually the same as what she had written on her laptop before her seizure. (Y/n) recognised the writing.

And all those facts, those named sources and the confirmation, everything was what she had worked on for almost three days straight. Everything she had pieced together and organised in her notes, it was all in one big, uncoordinated article that hadn't been written by her hand.

Luke had seen her notes yesterday. He had seen them, stolen them and made his own half-arsed version which he submitted just before the day's deadline. He got the front page. He stole (Y/n)'s work and used her to push himself up the ladder because he couldn't get there on his own. Everyone knew he couldn't get further than page eight, his writing was dim at best.

"Seriously? What's wrong with you?" Clark's voice was deeper than (Y/n) had ever heard and if everyone else wasn't so occupied with the drama, they might have noticed how similar to Superman that he sounded.

How could he do that? How could he see someone in such a vulnerable situation and decide to take advantage and take credit for their hard work? How had the editors not realised that someone so useless and widely known as a layabout had just sent them such a detailed and well-sourced article?

"Hey, I wrote the article-" Luke scowled when he heard (Y/n) utter "Yeah, no shit." under her breath. They knew he wrote it, anyone could tell who wrote it because he rushed over main points and jumped from one source to the next. His work was all sewn together in the wrong order.

It was the story that got the front page, not the way it was written or who it was written by.

"Someone else was gonna figure it out, that story needed to be printed and it's not like you were ever gonna get it done with all the twitching. So I did."

"You stole every aspect of it."

The only thing that was Luke's was the half-arsed writing. The story itself, the notes, the facts, numbers, names, dates, addresses, the interviews with people on the streets, all of that came from (Y/n). It was plagerism.

(Y/n) had all the notes in her note books and on her laptop, she had proof that this had been her work and that Luke had taken his chance to steal it from her. She could go to Perry and demand Luke he reprimanded for this, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

"What're you gonna do, have another fit-"

Clark's arm reached out, miliseconds from grabbing Luke by the collar of his shirt and doing something very reckless, but (Y/n) beat him to it.

She grabbed the paper from the desk and smashed it into Luke's face with so much force he almost wobbled back in his chair and his head snapped to the left.

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to ram her fist into his face and scream at him and shove him to the ground and beat her fists into him until he caved in and wrote a retraction or gave her the credit she was due. But (Y/n) knew that losing her temper wasn't going to help, and she couldn't risk losing her job over this.

As much as she didn't want to, (Y/n) was going to have to be professional, no matter how badly this was cutting her up and making her want to lash out at everyone and everything around her.

A small bubble of triumph swelled in (Y/n)'s chest when she saw the gobsmacked look on Luke's face as the crumpled paper fluttered down onto his lap. And a small trace of ink smudged into his features.

She turned on her heels and stormed away from his desk, unsure where she was aiming for or what she was going to do. She just needed to get away from Luke.

She heard Clark's utterance of "You've got some nerve," spat in Luke's direction before she felt him following behind her like a shadow, desperate to make sure she was okay and keep her sane.

On any other occasion, the whispering that started around the office would have made (Y/n) want to die of embarrassment. She would of cringed, maybe even cried at all the attention that was now thrust upon her. Eyes following her, whispers and murmurs and even smirks as people watched her storm away from Luke who was red in the face and staring down at his desk in her wake.

But (Y/n) couldn't find it in herself to care about any of it. And once she was out of eyesight, stood in the secluded stairwell, she let the tears begin to trickle down her face.

(Y/n)'s only source of solace being Clark's firm hands that settled on her shoulders and his calming presence behind her while his lips smothered the top of her head.

***

"Havin' fun?"

A look of panic shot through Clark's eyes and his head whipped up to the left to lock eyes with Perry. For a moment, he thought his boss was being sarcastic. He thought he was about to get some kind of lecture or that certain look Perry gave out when he wasn't impressed and was about to chide someone for a big mistake in one of their articles.

And a small part of Clark thought that he had been caught out; that someone had noticed him slip out the door about half an hour ago and come back in with dishevelled hair and a tired look hidden behind his glasses. Superman had been called and Clark had to go and save the evening, but he had come back and he tried his very best not to look or seem inconspicuous.

The smile on Perry's face calmed Clark down a lot. Perry hadn't figured it out, he probably hadn't even realised that Clark had slipped out.

Forcing a smile onto his lips, Clark nodded and reached for the glass in front of him. Red wine, a little sophisticated and very bitter, but Clark had been handed it earlier at the bar by Jimmy and he didn't want to be rude and refuse a drink.

"Yep." He raised his glass before taking a sip and glancing his eyes around the room.

"Why aren't you up dancing?"

"Oh, not my scene." Despite his words, a fondness crept into Clark's eyes that landed on the dance floor.

It was a work's night out, something that had been planned almost two months in advance and something that Clark had only turned up to because (Y/n) was here and she didn't want to come alone. He would gladly sit here on his own with a terrible drink if she asked him to, if she wanted him to be by her side and here in case she needed him.

And of course for a ride home. Clark couldn't get drunk, the pros and cons of going on a night out. If people were counting the drinks he had, then he would have to pretend to be drunk. But when it was like this and no one cared what or how many he had, he could pretend he'd had one alcoholic drink and still get (Y/n) home safe and sound.

Looking towards the dance floor made Clark's smile soften because right on the edge, was (Y/n). Stood with Lois by her side, both with drinks in hand and some funny conversation flowing between them.

"Let loose, Kent, have a bit of fun." With that being said, Perry walked away from the small booth Clark was occupying by himself and made a beeline towards the bar for another drink.

Clark finished the wine in his glass and reclined back into the rather comfy leather booth, shoulders slouched down and hands resting on his parted thighs. His head angled to one side as his eyes remained on the only girl who could ever gain his attention.

It would be an understatement to say that Clark had been worrying about (Y/n) lately. If it wasn't bad enough that she was having seizures- most likely brought on by stress from work- and the fact that she was now worried when in the office in case another seizure happened and caused a scene. But now she had to deal with seeing Luke around the office.

Perry promised he was looking into things, that he would deal with Luke and his plagarism and stealing (Y/n)'s article and her notes. But (Y/n) wasn't sure anything would actually be done about it, and that was infuriating.

At least tonight was a way to let her hair down and try to forget about all the mess that had been happening in the office.

Tremors set into Clark's bones like he was finally feeling the first sparks of alcohol in his veins or being on the edge of drunk for the first time in his life when he watched Luke approach (Y/n).

Nope. Not a good idea. He shouldn't be going anywhere near (Y/n), especially not here, outside the office where she could land a punch and not get fired or properly reprimanded for it. He was walking into a mine field by being around (Y/n) right now when he had gone all week avoiding her in case she lashed out at him. Practically everyone in the office was avoiding or ignoring Luke, even though a lot of them kept staring at (Y/n) like they wanted her to start a fight or they were waiting for her to have another seizure.

Clark sat forward, hands clenching into his thighs as his feet pressed down harshly into the floor that was about to become dinted beneath his weight. He focused his hearing to listen to their conversation without having to get up and linger around like a looming shadow. He wouldn't get involved unless he strictly had to.

"Fancy a dance?" Luke had a sharp smile on his face that verged on a smirk and he rose a brow as he held his palm out towards (Y/n).

It was almost like he was trying to give her a peace offering, as if he thought having a dance would resolve all the conflict he had instigated in the first place.

Clark couldn't gage what Luke expected (Y/n)'s reaction to be, but he didn't seem to expect her to scoff in his face and look him up and down like he was nothing more than the dirt on her shoe. Which was a fair assessment of Luke so far.

"What, need to be in my good graces to take my articles? No- no ideas of your own left in that walnut?"

(Y/n) swayed forward and reached her hand out, pressing her fingertip into Luke's temple to make her drunken point before she turned her back on him and ignored him completely.

He wasn't worth a fight. She didn't want to waste her breath on him, she wouldn't dance with him and she didn't want to even look at him. All Luke was good for was being a thief. He probably was looking for another article or idea of hers that he could squander for himself. Well, (Y/n) wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Push off."

She smiled when Lois took her hand and guided her away, both of them a bit more drunk than they'd anticipated to be tonight.

(Y/n) hadn't even had that much to drink, Lois probably had double the amount she had. But (Y/n) didn't drink often; mixing her epilepsy meds with alcohol wasn't a good idea, but tonight was an exception. Tonight (Y/n) wanted to forget about everything. She wanted a night out, and she knew her limits.

Plus, she had her very own Superman somewhere in the room. She could feel his eyes on her, she knew he was watching out for her and that he would look after her and take her home safely at the end of the night.

Clark shrank back down in his seat, satisfied when he saw Luke turn around and head back to the dance floor. He wasn't about to pursue an argument, clearly he knew he wouldn't win. Clark allowed himself to relax once again, but he couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from (Y/n).

She wasn't nearly as drunk as some of their colleagues surrounding them, but she was certainly passed the tipsy point.

And Clark felt his heart surging up into his throat when he watched Lois climb up onto a chair and then onto the table, tugging on (Y/n)'s hand until she did the same.

The pair of them were stood on top of a table.

They were drunk, their steps hazardous and wobbly and they were surrounded by glasses and beer bottles and ashtrays and plates. Everything that could cause them to fall or cut themselves or have a big accident right here in front of everyone- in front of strangers.

People were cheering around them. Strangers were crowding around the table along with a few colleagues. They were all leering at the pair of them, and Clark didn't like it. One bit.

He was up on his feet before he could think better of it and he weaved around the table he had been sitting at, hands flexing at his sides as he hurried towards the large rectangle table both women were wobbling on. His teeth sank down into his lower lip enough to turn it a blushing shade of rouge with a few tiny speckles of blood beginning to coat his teeth from the pressure he was applying.

His features turned as pale as the crisp white button up he was wearing which was rolled up just past his elbows and feeling like it was constricting the blood flow from his biceps downwards.

A few loose curls sprung up in places and wafted over the top of his glasses that were digging into the bridge of his nose and about to steam up from the heat radiating off of him. But nothing stopped Clark's sights from remaining locked on (Y/n), watching how she kept glancing down like she knew she was a bit too unsteady to be perched on top of a table or as if she had no clue how she had gotten up there in the first place.

Once he was within range, Clark shoved his elbows into the two men stood pressed up against the table who were now in his way. He forced his large frame between them so he was as close to (Y/n) as he could be and the moment he saw her wobble, he moved.

His big hands clamped down on her hips, fingers tight yet reassuring as they cladded over her hips and suctioned against her dress. His grip stopped her movements immediately and kept her steady while he angled his head back and looked up at her with wide chocolate eyes and brows raised over the rim of his glasses.

"Baby… baby, can you come back down please? Feet on solid ground, hm?"

Clark didn't want to just hoist (Y/n) up and plant her feet back on the ground again. He didn't want to be that guy. And he certainly didn't want to be rude and demand she get down, but he would prefer if she stood back on the ground with him. He could envision an accident happening and he didn't want that. Having her safely on the floor again was what he needed to keep himself sane right now.

He watched the way her head turned to look down at him, eyes wide and pupils blown and lips parted in such a beautiful way that Clark felt a desperate urge to kiss her. But when (Y/n) turned a little more, her heel caught on a glass behind her and a gasp flew past her lips as she wobbled towards Clark.

Her arms desperately reached out until they were locked around Clark's neck and she heard the little grunt he let out as he pushed his chest forward into her side to keep her stood upright and leaning against him. His fingers dug into her waist as he braced his chest so (Y/n) would be safe resting against him. He couldn't have her falling off the table.

He waited a few seconds, one brow arched and lips formed into a placid line until (Y/n)'s eyes gave him a darkening, sheepish look which he took as permission to lift her.

Within seconds (Y/n)'s feet were lifted from the table and she was hoisted up effortlessly in Clark's strong hands. Her arms stayed looped tight around his neck until he set her down on her feet beside him on the floor.

His left arm curled around her waist like an iron bar that refused to let her go and he attached his lips to her temple. But his right hand stretched palm-upwards in Lois's direction.

She was drunk too, and Clark didn't want her slipping either and having an accident, not when he was around to help. Lois seemed to debate it before realising that turning up to work in the morning with bruises or indeed a broken bone wouldn't be the right move to make. She gripped Clark's hand and clambered down onto a chair, and then safely onto the floor with a drunken 'cheers' passing her lips.

"That's better." Clark murmured against (Y/n)'s temple, feeling the way she shivered against him as both arms cocooned around her and he squeezed her against his broad chest.

(Y/n) closed her eyes with her mouth and nose meshed against Clark's bare chest where the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. She breathed in his scent like it would somehow help to sober her up, but it did calm her raging nerves and make her smile into his skin.

She didn't care when she felt Clark begin to walk her backwards until they were stood to one corner, near the side of the bar. Out of the way just enough to have their own little bit of privacy away from everyone else around them.

With her cheek smushed up against Clark's chest, (Y/n) tried to open her eyes and take a little look around. No one was looking at them, thankfully, and she hadn't made an embarrassment of herself. Not that anything (Y/n) did would beat her outburst at Luke in the office the other day.

An open-mouthed smile graced her lips and she chuckled when Jimmy walked towards them carrying a tray of drinks. Everyone seemed to be buying rounds here there and everywhere, drinks were getting passed around like it was a free bar. For all they knew, someone in the office had paid for a free bar.

And when Jimmy thrust the tray at them with a cocky grin that showed just how drunk he was, (Y/n) uncurled her arms from around Clark's neck to take two shots from the tray.

She was sure that Jimmy was going to fall down face-first into that tray, he was barely picking his feet up as he walked away from them to pass the rest of the drinks around. He was swaying to the left so much he looked like something out of a cartoon.

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Clark's shoulder, feeling just how tense he was with his brisk chest behind her and that stern frown woven into his features. He didn't make a move when (Y/n) held one of the shots out to him but his arms that were bound around her middle suddenly tightened

"Um, no- baby you shouldn't really be drinking too much." His voice gave away how nervous he was on the inside. Clark didn't want her to think he was trying to control her or cut her off.

Especially not when he could see Luke lingering within ear shot at the bar and watched him glance over, his interested peaked as he clearly caught wind of Clark's words.

He was surprised when a melodic, high toned laugh escaped (Y/n)'s lips while she thrust both shot glasses down on the bar to their right.

She let her head fall back against his chest while her eyes closed and she cuddled into his chest. "Careful loverboy… people will get the wrong idea."

A deep blush tainted Clark's cheeks and he couldn't help the bashful grin that curved upon his lips at the pet name that fell from (Y/n)'s lips. He would go weak at the knees if (Y/n) used any term of endearment for him, and if they were at the office or out in public like this, she could turn him to mush and wrap him around her finger by doing that.

(Y/n) turned a little so she could bind her arms around Clark's torso and cling to him like a baby monkey. She pressed a few open-mouthed kisses against his chest while he kissed her flushed temple.

They both heard Luke mutter "Oh yeah?" in response to the conversation he was by no means a part of and it caused Clark's features to darken as his narrowed eyes rolled high in his head.

"Medication and alcohol don't mix well, idiot." The gruff tone to Clark's voice caused Luke to turn away towards the bar, clearly shunned.

(Y/n) smiled. She knew he was only looking out for her, Clark was by no means trying to control (Y/n) or put a limit on how much she wanted to drink or how much fun she wanted to have. He would carry her home no matter how drunk she was or how elated she felt. But he didn't want her to make herself sick if she drank too much when she wasn't used to it and when it could mix and have bad reactions with her medication.

He wasn't trying to imply anything or be controlling but (Y/n) knew the likes of Luke and any other nosey colleagues might take Clark's words in another manner. They might start spreading gossip that (Y/n) was pregnant. The last thing they needed was anymore office gossip going around, not after (Y/n)'s bust up with Luke.

Clark rested his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head and cuddled her closer, swaying them both from left to right for a few moments before he spoke.

"Why don't we go home, baby?"

It was getting late, and it wasn't like this was a big party that was about to get any better. They had seen everyone, had some drinks, had a laugh and Clark might have slipped out to deal with some crime before he came right back. But he could already tell that (Y/n) was starting to get a bit fed up of it all.

The night didn't have to end early just because they were heading home; the fun had only just started.

#imagine #david! clark kent #clark kent fluff #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent #superman 2025 #superman imagine #superman #david corenswet

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 days ago

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What you think everyone reaction be WB!reader and Conner teen pregnancy new? Like how Conner relationships with Batfam and Superfam with this new? I don't know why I can see both of them will blurt out they are having a baby just so their family can out their cases.

OMG YOUR LITERALLY ABOUT TO WRITE THAT!!!

First off, Conner has been sensing that you are pregnant. He can hear the heartbeat every time he gets stressed or overwhelmed, and when he hears the matching heartbeat of Cairo in your belly while hearing yours, he is immediately overjoyed, while also shocked and confused (his pull-out game is so weak your pussy might as well be Kryptonite). He doesn't know whether to tell you or not because it's obvious that you don't know, but he lets you figure it out first and decide whether to keep the baby. If you don't, that's fine by him, but if you do, oh, he's ready to step up like no other. Not really having much of a father figure in his life, he'll definitely do everything he possibly can for your baby, using all his Lex Luthor money to a T if it means giving Cairo the perfect life.

Also, Kon gets crazy baby fever over your belly; he sometimes just makes you stand in front of him and watches you breathe as he stares at it lovingly. He's downright obsessed, but you can't keep this little pregnancy thing hidden for long, so you both tell your family at a small barbecue baby shower that ends horribly. Everyone is having a good time, chatting in the backyard of the Teen Titans Tower when they ask why they're there and what's the occasion. Just then, you and Conner pull out a Superman onesie, declaring, "It's a boy!" The only one who is clapping and jumping up and down hysterically is your mother. Dick is choking on his homemade martini, Jason is practically coughing up a rack of ribs, Tim is going through cardiac arrest, and Damien is looking at both you and Kon in complete horror.

Damien screams, "Why him out of all people?" Cass and Stephanie are sharing Pikachu faces, Barbara, who is usually one step ahead, is now taking off her glasses dramatically to rub her forehead, while Bruce is completely silent. The Superfam is obviously in shock. Jon is the only one who is actually excited because he's thinking about being an uncle. Kara, who had feelings for you at one point, is (definitely mourning your yuri relationship.) It takes a minute for Clark to get his bearings, but he congratulates you both in the end. Lois Lane, the great reporter, even wonders how this could slip past her.

The two families come together in a very strange way, but they're all supportive—maybe a little too supportive. Clark offers you and Kon to live at the farm so you'll be close to the Superfam, while Bruce tries to convince you to stay with him and everyone else at the Manor, saying that the child will have Wayne blood. "We don't even know if the baby's going to have powers; what if it's like us?" he'll try to explain to you, only for Clark to interject, "Or what if the baby isn't normal and has powers? Kryptonian genes are very strong; you should stay with us and be in a place where you’re loved." Clark is definitely side-eyeing Bruce as he says this, putting special emphasis on "loved."

Your mother only cares about you two getting married, not really giving a damn about where you stay. She just wants to see her grandbaby. Both families want to name the baby really badly, bickering and arguing over names even though they don't have a say in it. Clark wants the baby to have a Kryptonian name; is he going to be half Kryptonian? Bruce argues that they don't even know yet if the baby will have powers, so they'll need a normal name, with emphasis on "normal."

On the other hand, you want to give the baby a name that reminds you of Conner, linking him back to African culture. When you hear it’s going to be a boy, you give him the bright name of Cairo. It matches the 'C' theme with Conner perfectly and is a beautiful name for your son, after a great Egyptian city in Africa. But for the Kryptonian name, you’ll definitely let Connor pick (he is not picking the human name; that boy is going to call your baby something like Conner Jr.).

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cod-dump · 14 hours ago

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What if Ghost didn't have a traumatic background? At least not to extent everyone believes. He's just naturally a terrifying man and very efficient at his job that people insist there has to be reason how he got here. He's not naturally this insane of a person.

So they start coming up with ideas.

Why don't they hear anything about his family, not even a mention of them? They must be dead. How did he get all those scars? Obviously he must have been tortured. And no one just has dark jokes like that unless they're coping from serious trauma.

So they stories start spreading, they get wild and twisted. And Ghost? He finds them hilarious and feeds into them. He starts making up characters to add to them, subtlely offering to the gossiping soldiers under the guise of him finally opening up. And of course they fall right into his trap and new stories start popping up. Price can't keep up with it all and Ghost decides to write him a summary so he can play along.

Gaz figures out that Ghost has been playing the long con after a few months of working with him but doesn't say anything. Why ruin the image of the Ghost?

Soap? Doesn't figure it out. He thinks Ghost is traumatized to hell and back with the most insane lore he's ever heard about a real guy. He's dig himself out of a grave with a jawbone after being buried alive after being tortured within an inch of his life. His family was murdered on Christmas by two people who were tortured alongside him years after escaping his grave.

Yea that makes sense.

And Soap doesn't realize the truth until after they survive Las Almas with Shadow Company after them. Ghost is talking to him through the streets, keeping him focused through the blood loss and adrenaline. And he talks to him about everything, dumb jokes and all. And he mentions his brother.

"When this shit is over, I'm going home and out drinking with my brother."

Soap's mind was racing that night, he hadn't really stopped to think about what Ghost had said until they were at Alejandro's safe house.

"So... your brother.”

"What about him?”

Ghost knew that Soap knew now... right? Gaz figured out quickly enough, Price didn't even have to tell him.

"He's... I heard he was, uh- Dead."

Ghost looked like he wanted to scream, like this was too funny.

"Price picked you out himself, right? For 141?”

"LT please-”

"What's your IQ again?”

Soap felt as though that this was the true joke. That in this moment Ghost was trying to fuck with him. The man liked his dark jokes, he doubted joking about his dead brother would be too much for him. But Ghost surprised him, sighing dramatically and showing mercy.

"Once all this is done, I'll tell you.”

And he did. With Hassan dead and the next hunt yet to show itself, Ghost invites him out for drinks. Takes him to a pub in Manchester, settles in comfortably while ordering some food, a whisky for Soap and a bourbon for himself. But Soap didn't eat much, barely drank anything. He just stared at Ghost, waiting for the story he has yet to hear.

“Stop staring, it's rude.”

“What's the real story?”

Ghost took a sip, hummed, then he started talking.

“I was born and raised here. Father was a drunk, liked to hit us. Mother overworked herself to keep up with the bills since he didn't help out like he should. Kept my brother, Tommy, out of harm's way as much as I could. Finally, when I was big enough, I fought back.”

Soap blinked, Ghost pausing for another bite before he continued.

“After I broke a couple of his fingers, he left and never came back. Honestly couldn't care less if he was rotting in a ditch somewhere. Life got better, Mum moved us across the town to a bigger, better house after she got a better job. And things have been swell since.”

“… that's it?”

“Oh, and my brother got married to the loveliest woman, Beth. Honestly wonder how he got with her. And they had my nephew, Joseph.”

Soap was speechless. That was it?

“What about the scars?”

“I am a very… accident prone man. You should see my medical records, I'm lucky my mother didn't decide to wrap me up in foam and stick me in a closet.”

Soap laughed, full of disbelief.

“Let's see… three separate cycling incidents— always wear your helmet, Johnny— Had a run in with a very unhappy dog. Fell in a fire pit after too many drinks. Totalled two cars… There's more but looks like you need a minute.”

Soap dropped his head to the table and Ghost just stared, eating his food while wondering how Soap managed to go this long without figuring out that the gossip was, well, gossip.

#i find untraumatized!ghost funny #call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #drabble #au #?

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dvg-tvgs · 7 hours ago

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future king!Simon

warnings: kidnapping, cliffhanger ending

you don't realise your father is doing anything wrong

how he explained it to you is that he's helping the kingdom, not harming it

and you believed him

the sweet princess who didn't know anything, you didn't know how much of a tyrant your father was

simon riley knew

simon riley who didn't know he was the future king until he was much older

growing up on a farm, surrounded by the men who would lead his army, he watched your father destroy the kingdom

his kingdom

he had to do something about it

that something started with you

the sweet princess who didn't know anything

the only use you had was getting to your father

you should have known something was wrong

the knights you were familiar with, the ones that guarded your door usually, were lean

they weren't usually this big, weren't usually made of pure muscle

but here this knight was, in ill fitting armour

you thought nothing of it, maybe because you were too busy looking at his muscles

you were in your father's house, of course you were safe

when the knight came into your room, you didn't question it

his face was completely covered. if you were smarter, if you were more aware of how terrible a man your father was, you would have been scared

the fear only settled in when his large hand clamped over your mouth

no gauntlet on his hand, just scarred skin against your mouth

you couldn't scream as he carried away, could do nothing but cry

even that was hard with how he was holding you, hand clamped over your mouth and arm around your middle

you didn't even know about the secret passages out of the castle, so how did he?

in the secret passage, he tied you up with rope that had been stashed

arms bound behind your back, rag in your mouth to keep you silent

he couldn't stop you from crying as he dragged you on, down towards the stables, never saying a word

blacking out wasn't the right word for what you did once he had you on the back of his horse

but everything was a blur

you couldn't focus on the unfamiliar path as he took you further and further away from your home, through the woods

your eyes were too blurry to spot anything familiar until you were too far away to see anything you recognised

you cried as you were pulled from the top of the horse

but he pushed you forward, through the trees

you weren't expecting a proper camp

a fire, tents, people sharpening swords

it was more than just a fake guard kidnapping you

"what're ye doin' t' th' poor lass?"

you looked to the right as the man reached for you, pulled the rag from around your mouth

you were shaking, unable to escape from them. men closed in all around you, but the big one that kidnapped you stayed the closest

"please," you cried, "please take me home."

the one that had removed the rag from your mouth shook his head. "can't do that, sweet'eart," he mumbled, "need ya"

"you can't need me," you said, attempting to tug at your binding, "I can't help with anything! I don't know anything!"

a pair of eyes went up

the man with blue eyes and facial hair, arms folded over his chest, stepped towards you

"you are the princess, right?" he asked, eyes flipping to the main behind you

the great hulking man that had kidnapped you from your home

he grabbed your wrists, stopping your tugging

your wrists still burned but. now you weren't the reason

you nodded your head before you had given yourself time to really think about it

"well then, you're going to help us take down your father. you're going to help us overthrow the king"

just wanted to get something out before my sister and I go away tomorrow! I'm still working on home and safe and my mafia fic rn! btw my inbox is always open for anything

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manicmanuscription · 1 day ago

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Home now.

Azriel x Reader

This is a mini oneshot of exhausted/overstimulated reader, I'm having a bad week and just needed a comfort fic, written right here in tumblr and too lazy to proofread. enjoy loves <3

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

The day had took me by it's hands and dragged me through it, kicking and screaming.

Same with yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that.

Always more paperwork, more problems, more people, more missions and more work.

I was fucking exhausted.

My families chatter usually had my heart melting yet every word, every brush of the fork against the plate, every second of laughter was aggravating.

It took everything in me not to strangle Cassian for bumping his chair into mine. Took everything in me not to scream at the literal High Lord and Lady for chewing their food too loud.

I was barely hanging on, ribbons of sanity slowly unraveling.

I was doing my best to take deep breaths in when a very drunk Mor reached across the dinner table for another glass of wine, yet the bottle tipped over knocking over her and Elain's glass and they shattered on the floor with a very loud bang.

Fucking idiots.

The sound made me snap, rage bursting forth and begging to be released on the nearest person.

I stood up abruptly, barely dignifying my family with a response and winnowed him. Cursing everyone out as I made my way through my house. Overwhelm setting in and making my already cloudy head worse.

The kitchen needed to be cleaned, paperwork needed to be signed, I had to put away laundry, needed to pick up the pastries my mate liked in time for his return home, should probably sharpen those daggers too....

I hadn't even realized I'd started crying until a sob ripped out of me and I nearly stumbled over.

Too much. Too much and I felt worthless. A better female wouldn't snap at her family and leave, would have the house prepared, could actually stay on top of her own fucking job.

I don't know when I started slipping, this wasn't like me and the devastating shame and guilt tore me up from the inside.

With a strained sniffle I sat down at my desk, staring at the endless papers and desperately tried to calm dow myself down. I could fix this, could make up for dinner and get ahead start on things for Rhys...

Only every attempt at evening my breathing only had them coming out shorter, faster, until I was hyperventilating and crying even harder.

Useless, I was so fucking-

Familiar large hands gripped my shoulders. The sudden movement had me jerking back to present reality until I was face to face with my mate.

Who wasn't supposed to be home for three more days.

Did I really not hear him? Idiot.

"Az-Azriel?" I hiccuped, trying to wipe at my eyes. "What-"

"what's wrong?" He asked, concern lacing those eyes. Shadows pooling around my feet and shoulders.

"I'm-" Another wave of emotion burst forth and I started sobbing again, crumpling off my chair and into Azriel's awaiting arms.

He caught me with ease and I barely noticed when he picked me up and took us to our bedroom, sitting down on the mattress as I curled into his chest, crying.

"Sorry. I'm sorry- I don't. I can't-"

"Breathe." He whispered gently, placing a scarred hand over my heart and exaggerating his breaths until I eventually copied him. "Everything is ok my love, you're all right."

My tears slowly faded and when I got up to move, too look at my mate, he only shushed me again, forcing my head back into the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around me.

Guilt crept in, he was still in his leathers, daggers still attached to the hip from his mission and I tried once again to slither out of his grip, "this is not the welcome home I wanted to give you." I sniffled, trying for the third time and failing.

"It's an honor to take care of you love, it makes me happy, you gonna tell me what's wrong? or do I have to guess?"

I pursed my lips. I was being a burden, I should've had dinner prepared or at least a snack I'm sure he is hungry maybe a bath-

"stop." He demanded, a wave of reassurance from his end of the bond had a wave of dizziness overtaking me momentarily.

"I love being here for you, taking care of you, you're not a burden, you're a gift and you're mine." He growled, tilting my head so he could lock eyes with mine and pressed a firm kiss on my mouth as if to prove it.

I started crying again and Azriel only wiped my tears, helped me get change in my comfort clothes, brought me a glass of water and tucked me into bed. "There's too much stuff to do." I whispered, taking the water from him before he changed into sleep clothes as well.

Azriel slid under the covers, placing my now empty glass on the nightstand and pulled me into his side, leg thrown over mine and his big arms holding my in place as well. "Can wait till tomorrow you need rest baby."

He ran finger's along my arm, pressing another kiss to my forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too." I murmured, halfway falling asleep, grateful I had a mate who knew exactly what I needed without the words to explain. Azriel would always take care of you, no matter what.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #reader insert #acotar fanfiction #not proofread #acotar #azriel

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ahavaas · 1 day ago

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"how would you write fuck or die chengxian"

POR QUE NO LOS DOS i guess! fuck it, we ball.

i will tell you about the significantly worse time where jiang cheng, instead of leading/joining the mob gathering to siege to the burial mounds after nightless city, gets to the burial mounds first.

to find wei wuxian in crisis/melting down/about to get torn apart by the resentful energy.

(yeah in canon this is supposed to be a result of the pressure of the actual siege. whatever. don't think about it too hard. wei wuxian smoking from the eyes/losing his shit in a way that jiang cheng — always willing to excuse during the sunshot campaign — has never seen before.)

jiang cheng is colossally furious, grief-stricken, betrayed in a way he didn't think was possible, here with no idea what he's going to do/what he's supposed to do/what happens now. wei wuxian also half-mad with grief and anger and guilt because shijie was never supposed to be part of this, she was never supposed to --

for Ye Olde Porn Reasons, fucking would in fact fix wei wuxian/give him the ability to control the resentful energy backlash that's building up. fucking would prevent his death. wen qing confirms it. wen ning isn't an option; the fierce corpse issue means that anything he does will exacerbate the feedback loop wei wuxian's stuck in. she'd do it in a heartbeat to keep him alive but wei wuxian doesn't have a core. it'd work…better…if it was someone who's known him longer, she says, without making eye contact.

(wei wuxian doesn't have a fucking core? every single minute of this fucking day feels like getting stabbed over and over again. when the fuck did that happen. what else has wei wuxian been lying about — it doesn't fucking matter, jiang cheng tells himself. does anything matter at this point.)

(wen qing's being judicious about the information she's providing, here: telling jiang cheng about the core transfer might make him even angrier, but telling him that wei wuxian has no core might make him a little more sympathetic. wei wuxian might be their best chance of surviving this mess. odds aren't great. she's doing what she can and hoping for the best.)

there is a moment where jiang cheng considers...not doing that. letting it all fucking end, y'know?

but yanli's dead. if wei wuxian dies, there's really no one left. jiang cheng might be cripplingly angry and heartbroken, but he can't bear to raise his sword, and he can't lose one more person.

it is fucking infuriating that wei wuxian is insultingly, insufferably possessive when they fuck. now he's babbling shit about jiang cheng being his, now he's moaning about not losing jiang cheng, now he's clutching and grabbing at jiang cheng like he's trying to claw his way inside him? now? jiejie is fucking dead, he's pulling this bullshit now? jiang cheng wants to slap him, wants to gag him, needs him to shut the fuck up right now.

(the worst true thing about this is: it's what jiang cheng has wanted to hear basically his whole adult life, right? it's sick that it's happening now and it's sick that it's still working for him. it's wrong. there's something wrong with him and there's something wrong with wei wuxian, that they could do this.)

from wei wuxian's pov, jiang cheng showed up here to try to kill him (deserved) and he's suckerpunched when it goes in...a naked direction instead. the sex is not really helping him clear his head but this is something he can – it's not familiar, it's not really like he's on any kind of even keel here, but even though jiang cheng is furious and near-silent he's not really fighting when wei wuxian claws his robes off, gets to the skin underneath, gets his hands on him. gets inside him. he's even getting hard about it, and that is maybe the crack that wei wuxian can sink his fingernails into (everything had gone completely out of control, totally off the rails, but this? jiang cheng's body? this he can control. he's not going to hurt jiang cheng. he can make him hard. he can make him moan. this isn't familiar territory, but it's close enough, maybe; getting a reaction out of jiang cheng, seeing that he hasn't fucked things up badly enough to prevent jiang cheng from reacting to him. he's regaining his footing.

(this makes it sound romantic. important to note that if they'd fucked for the first time in different circumstances, maybe? but here jiang cheng is angry enough that he's biting, he's furious that it's good, he's furious that wei wuxian is making it good for him, everything about it is pissing him off, right?

and it is good. better than anything he's had before. jiang cheng's not aware of it but there is some golden-core-related fuckery that means this is the best sex he's had so far in his life, probably.)

(wei wuxian is not actually regaining his equilibrium, btw. the whole world wants to kill the wens? fine. the whole world wants wei wuxian dead bad enough to kill shijie? fine. and here's jiang cheng, showing up in the burial mounds alone, by himself, against the fearsome yllz, like an idiot, letting wei wuxian dick-deep in his body where wei wuxian can practically hear his core spinning in jiang cheng's lower dantian -- wei wuxian could've done anything to jiang cheng.

wei wuxian could do anything to jiang cheng.

keep him, even.)

so post-coital they're both lying on the stone floor (wei wuxian half-dressed, jiang cheng completely naked; jiang cheng went into this trying to keep his clothes on, get it over with quickly, but blazed-on-resentful-energy!wei wuxian was determined to get jiang cheng naked, get his hands all over jiang cheng, and at some point jiang cheng forgot why he should prevent wei wuxian from doing that) and jiang cheng does a quick check. wei wuxian does not seem to be smoking at the eyes. the blood pool has stopped boiling. whatever crisis wei wuxian was headed towards seems to have paused for the moment.

What Comes Next. oh fucking no. because if jiang cheng leaves wei wuxian here, he's dead for sure. but how could he — how could he even think of bringing wei wuxian back to lotus pier? it would be disloyal. unfilial. it would be — but if he leaves him here, jiang cheng thinks, again, with sick dread coiling in his stomach, he's dead. and jiang cheng isn't done with wei wuxian, he doesn't get to die right after jiejie.

fine. jiang cheng is dragging wei wuxian home, his parents can roll in their graves about it. the wens are not jiang cheng's problem but as long as wei wuxian leaves the barriers up at the burial mounds, the rest of the cultivation world will probably waste enough time trying to break them down that the wens can run for it. whatever.

jiang cheng: get up, idiot. shut up. i'm taking you home.

wei wuxian, lying on the floor, watching jiang cheng pull his robes back on (they're a fucking mess) with a weird look in his eyes: no.

jiang cheng: you can't stay here. they're going to kill you. you understand that they're going to kill you, right?

wei wuxian: they're not going to kill me, i've got a hostage.

jiang cheng (still not getting it. difficult day for him. give him grace): who? who do you think anyone possibly cares about? wen qing? nie mingjue wants her dead too. don't be more of a fucking idiot than you already are.

cue a real screaming match about the idea of sect leader jiang as the yiling laozu's hostage: wei wuxian is like hey, idk where you think you're going but you're sure as fuck not leaving my sight, not after shijie --

jiang cheng does hit him for that one, i think. never occurred to him to be afraid of wei wuxian a day in his life and he's not starting now.

jc: you're not taking me hostage. a) nobody's buying that shit, b) nobody *cares* if you kill me, c) if you get one more jiang disciple killed trying to protect me i will kill you myself.

#more in a bit i think #is this a terrible fucking plan?#does wwx taking slj hostage actually change anything about the way the burial mounds siege goes down? lol probably not #“ahavaa you've fucked up wwx's characterization: he would be guiltier in a situation like this”#probably!#let's say wwx blazed on resentful energy and looking for any way to regain control is shoving that guilt way way down #chengxian #🪷🔞

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seitmai · 2 days ago

Note

Many thoughts

You knew at some point the two of you were due to have this conversation. It’s a conversation that had begun to grow into an argument that had been deterred only by your father father insisting that the two of you not get into it on your wedding day.

Rather sooner than later right? 🫣

She sighs, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the bedspread. "This campaign. Running for office. It's just so much pressure, so much scrutiny. After what happened with those awful photos, I can't help but worry about you. Is this really what you want?" You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Mom, I know it's not an easy path. But yes, this is what I want. I believe in Steve and what he stands for. And I believe I can make a difference by his side." Your mother's brow furrows. "But at what cost? Your privacy, your peace of mind? I saw how those false accusations affected you - it’s why I’m here, why Steve called and asked me to come. And that's just the beginning. If Steve wins, your whole life will be under a microscope."

I totally understand both sides...

"Oh Mom, it really is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder. "We've been to so many places, met so many amazing people. There was this small town in Iowa where the entire community came out to hear Steve speak. They had handmade signs and everything. And in Detroit, we visited this incredible urban farm that's providing fresh produce to food deserts in the city." "It sounds amazing," your mother admits, a hint of awe in her voice. "I can see why you're so passionate about it all." You nod eagerly. "It really is, Mom. I feel like I'm part of something so much bigger than myself."

I think that's the spirit you need to go through with all of this, otherwise no chance

"You are still important," she says firmly. "You, as an individual, not just as Steve's wife or as part of this campaign. Don't lose yourself in all of this."

This!!👏🏻

You take a shaky breath, feeling the echo of the emotions of that moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about all the people who would see those photos, judge me, make assumptions about who I am. For a while, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was terrified it would derail everything we've worked for - and all the worse because the photos aren’t even real." You continue, "But then, as we dealt with the fallout, as I spoke with our team and supporters, I realized that this wasn't just about me or the campaign. It was about a much bigger issue - the lack of understanding and support for women's health in our country."

She is made for this!

You pause, feeling a surge of passion as you continue. "It’s only been a day since I’ve started to learn more, and I’m just stunned by the amount of things I did’t know, Mom. Like did you know that it takes an average of seven to ten years for a woman to be diagnosed with endometriosis? Or that heart attack symptoms in women are often dismissed as anxiety?” As you speak, you feel a familiar fire igniting within you. It's the same passion that drove you to join Steve's campaign in the first place - the desire to make a real difference in people's lives.

That's the reason why she and Steve are such a great match, they share not only the passion but also compassion

STEVE: That's fantastic! I’m sure your mom's perspective will be invaluable. Can't wait to discuss more tomorrow.💙

"Mom," you begin, your voice brimming with anticipation, "You've always been so passionate about women, about building strong communities, and you have such a way with words. Would you maybe... want to help us build out the messaging for this initiative while you're here?" Your mother's eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh honey, I would love that. I've… I haven’t really said this to anyone, but I’ve been starting to wonder what I could do that would mean something getting older, and this feels like something I could really contribute to."

Great move getting Mom on board 🤭

You heart flips over his use of the heart emoji, but his response in general makes you smile, loving how your lives are moving forward, your relationship, and the ease you feel to share everything with him now. You’re feeling a renewed sense of purpose and excitement for what lies ahead. As you drift off to sleep, you find yourself imagining the potential impact of this initiative, the lives it could touch, and the changes it could bring.

Ahh these two 🥰😍

"Good morning," he says, giving you a quick kiss before turning to your mother. "I'm so glad you're joining the team. Your daughter tells me you have some great ideas for our women's health initiative." Your mother nods. "Thank you for having me. I'm looking forward to contributing." And her smile - the real one - is gone.

Let's hope her involvement let's these two warm up to each other 🫣

Steve chuckles, but you catch a flicker of something—nervousness?—in his eyes. "Avoiding you? Never. How could I possibly want to avoid the most captivating woman in the world?" He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You narrow your eyes and try to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his affection, not quite buying his charm offensive at face value. "Mmm-hmm. So if you're not avoiding me, perhaps you're avoiding someone else? Someone who happens to be my mother?" Steve's smile falters slightly, and he lets out a small sigh. "Is it that obvious?" You feel a pang of sympathy for Steve. Your mother's disapproval has been weighing on you too, but you hadn't realized how much it was getting to Steve - your confident husband, the man who seems so fearless and unflagging.

Poor Steve, this isnt a great situation for anyone 😬

"Steve, I've seen you face down hostile reporters and debate seasoned politicians without breaking a sweat. Hell, you battled Thanos and his legions twice. But every time my mom enters the room, you suddenly have an urgent phone call or meeting to attend." “Thanos was nothing to your mother.”

Haha I can't, this cracked me up 😂

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Again, no need to apologize. I understand. And you're right, things did change fast between us. I still can't believe how lucky I am." His words warm your heart, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. "Steve, my mom's opinion is important to me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. We're in this together, remember?" He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together. I like the sound of that. More and more every time we say it.”

They are a team, through all of it, political campaigning or mission win mom over🥹

As if drawn by an invisible force, Steve leans forward, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is feather-light, reverent, as if he's still amazed that he's allowed to touch you like this. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours. The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens as Steve pulls you closer. His beard tickles your skin, a sensation that never fails to send shivers through you.

🥰🥰🥰

Steve's lips move against yours with a tenderness that ignites sparks beneath your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, and he pulls you closer. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, a comforting heat that makes you feel safe and cherished.

Steve is truly the personified version of feeling safe🥰

You break off the kiss, but you want to stay close and so rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing a little heavier. The world around you slowly comes back into focus - the rumble of the bus engine, the murmur of conversations from campaign staff, the whir of laptops. But for a moment longer, you stay in this intimate bubble, savoring the closeness.

They deserve every second in their little bubble 🥰🥹

"If your mother tries to throw me out a window, you have to promise to come to my aid." You laugh, the tension broken. "Deal. Though I think even my mom would have trouble throwing Captain America out a window." "You'd be surprised," Steve chuckles. “Maybe Sam will loan the shield back to you,” you tease.

He truly is scared 😂

"What's going on?" you ask pointedly. Sam steps forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Now, don't be mad. We thought Steve could use some alone time with your mom."

Of course they are causing mischief lol

Bucky nods, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "He's faced down HYDRA and alien invasions. We figured he could handle one mother-in-law."

I mean one would assume, but Steve definitely was more hesitant to face his mother in law than Thanos lol

"About five minutes," Sam replies. "We figured we'd give them a few more. Or you two will - I’m going to join someone else for dinner.” You smirk at him. “Enjoy your meal with Sophia.” “Oh, I intend to,” he says, handing you an earpiece before walking away.

Well, how many love stories can come out of one presidential campaign? 🤔🤭

"I see the way you look at my daughter," your mother continues. "The way your eyes light up when she enters a room, how you lean towards her when she speaks. I see the gentle touches, the silent conversations you have with just a glance. It's... it's beautiful, really."

It truly is in the little momenta and gestures 🥰

You hear Steve take a deep breath before responding. "I understand those concerns. They're concerns I've had myself. But your daughter, as it turns out, is one of the strongest people I know. She challenges me, supports me, grounds me in ways I never expected. She makes me want to be a better man, a better leader."

And he means every single word with his whole heart🙂‍↕️

There's a pause, and you can almost picture Steve leaning forward, his eyes earnest as he continues. "I know I have a complicated past, and yes, a lot of responsibility. But your daughter isn't overshadowed by that - she shines even brighter alongside it. She's not just along for the ride in this campaign or in our life together. She's my partner in every sense of the word.” Your mother's voice softens slightly as she responds. "I can see that. I've watched her these past few days, how she's grown into this role. She's always been capable, but now... now she's truly flourishing." "She is," Steve agrees, warmth evident in his voice. "And I want you to know that I will always support her in that growth. Her dreams, her ambitions - they're just as important as mine."

They both care so much about her 🥹

"It’s not," Steve says, his response immediate and resolute. "And I want you to know that I take my commitment to your daughter very seriously. I know I can't promise that she'll never be hurt - life doesn't work that way. But I can promise that I will always be there for her, to support her, to lift her up when she needs it, and to celebrate her successes."

The best husband 🫶🏻

You lean into her touch, feeling for a moment like a little girl again, safe in your mother's embrace, and her strength as your mother had been the thing you needed most from her.

🥰🥰🥰

"I'm so proud of you," your mother says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "The work you're doing, the person you've become... it's more than I knew to hope for - a true new chapter for you." You feel a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by her words. "Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me."

She really needed this 🥹

As they part, your mother looks between the two of you. "And you two take care of each other. What you're doing is important. Don't lose sight of that, but don't lose sight of each other either."

Preach!

"I better go," she says with a sigh. She picks up her carry-on bag. “Tell Pepper - I assume - thanks for the first-class flight. Of course, I’m ruined now, but it’s worth it.”

Oh Pepper, you just have to love her🤭😅

You scoff, falling into step beside him. “Because the campaign plane would definitely lift off without its presidential candidate on board.” He laughs, “Don’t put it past Bucky or Sam to convince them I am there and try to get them to leave without me.”

“Even with as scary as it was for Captain America to meet his wife’s mom?” you giggle. He quiets you with a resolute kiss on the mouth that melts away your early morning sass.

He deserved this 🤭

He has a point 😅

I am even more excited about Fridays because of you and Presidential Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. I’m so looking forward to how everything turns out with those two!

Well, nonnie, we're finally back!

Red, White & True: Tuscon & Denver [12/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, side of Bucky and Sam Word Count: 4.7k Summary: Your mom joins the campaign trail.

Content/Warnings: political policy discussion, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Author Notes: For the seventh day of the Valentine Storygrams!

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[OCTOBER 12 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The tension between your mother and Steve simmers beneath the surface over the next two hours. You try to keep things light, showing your mother around campaign bus and introducing her to more of the staff. But there's an undercurrent of unease that you can't shake.

At the hotel the campaign’s logistical director has managed to assign adjoined rooms to you and your mom. After changing into your pajamas, you knock on the door that connects you, and a moment later your mom opens up. The two of you sit on one of the queen beds and begin to talk, just the two of you. There’s much less tension, and she gives you stories and updates about family and friends and old neighbors from your old home. You soak up the nostalgia, but it also feels strange to hear about all the normal things happening - so opposite from your whirlwind days and weeks on the campaign.

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you pause your conversation briefly to check what it says. “It’s just a couple of logistical updates for tomorrow morning,” you say, before looking back up.

When you do, you see your mother’s expression has changed. Now she’s watching you with a pensive expression as she rests against the pillows piled up in front of the headboard.

“What is it?” you prod.

"Honey," she begins, her voice careful. "Are you sure about all this?"

"What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Mom, I know it's not an easy path. But yes, this is what I want. I believe in Steve and what he stands for. And I believe I can make a difference by his side."

Your mother's brow furrows. "But at what cost? Your privacy, your peace of mind? I saw how those false accusations affected you - it’s why I’m here, why Steve called and asked me to come. And that's just the beginning. If Steve wins, your whole life will be under a microscope."

You nod, acknowledging her concerns. "I know. And it's not always easy. But Mom, the good we can do outweighs the challenges. I've seen firsthand how Steve inspires people, how he brings out the best in them. The plans he intends to put into action based on what he wants to do for the people? I want to be part of that."

She shakes her head slightly. "But honey, you barely knew him when you got married. And now you're in the middle of this huge campaign. Don't you think it's all happening a bit fast?"

You can't help but bristle at her words, even as you try to understand her perspective. "Mom, I know it seems fast from the outside. But Steve and I... we've been through so much together already. The campaign has only brought us closer."

Your mother reaches out, taking your hand in hers. "I just worry about you, sweetheart. I’ll always worry about you. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Mom," you say, squeezing her hand. "Yes, there are challenges, but I'm doing something I believe in."

She studies your face for a long moment, then nods slowly. "I can see that. I just... I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. My little girl, potentially becoming the First Lady of the United States."

You chuckle softly. "Trust me, I still don’t feel like that could be real, even though getting Steve elected is our only goal and fuels everything we do. I’m glad you’re here - you’ll be able to see what we do, and what I’ve seen while we do it.”

You can see your mother's expression soften slightly as she listens, though you can sense there is more she’s still thinking about.

"Tell me more about what you've seen," she says, leaning forward slightly. "What's it really been like out there on the campaign trail?"

You can't help but smile, feeling a surge of enthusiasm as you begin to share your experiences.

Your mother listens intently as you continue, describing the passionate volunteers who work tirelessly for the campaign that you’re meeting across the country, the vibrant energy of rallies in big cities, the intimate town halls in small communities, and the countless conversations with people you never would have met across every pocket of America.

"We met this incredible woman in New Mexico who's been fighting for clean water rights for her community for decades. And in Florida, we toured a cutting-edge renewable energy facility that's creating jobs and combating climate change. Every day, I'm learning so much about the issues facing our country and the innovative solutions people are developing."

You tell her about the late-night strategy sessions with the campaign team, the thrill of seeing poll numbers climb, and the humbling moments when you've comforted supporters who've shared their personal struggles.

"It sounds amazing," your mother admits, a hint of awe in her voice. "I can see why you're so passionate about it all."

You nod eagerly. "It really is, Mom. I feel like I'm part of something so much bigger than myself."

Your mother's expression softens further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "I can see how much this means to you, sweetheart. And I'm proud of you for being so passionate and dedicated." She pauses, squeezing your hand. "But I want you to remember something important."

You tilt your head, waiting for her to continue.

"You are still important," she says firmly. "You, as an individual, not just as Steve's wife or as part of this campaign. Don't lose yourself in all of this."

Her words remind you of something Helen Santos once said to you, about the importance of maintaining your own identity amidst the whirlwind of the campaign. You nod, acknowledging the truth in her statement.

"I know. I'm trying to keep that balance. It's not easy, but I'm learning."

She squeezes your hand gently. "And what about that awful photo scandal? Are you really okay? I know you’ve shown such a put-together and brave face for the media, and even for me tonight, but I’m your mother, you don’t need to be strong for me."

You take a deep breath, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest at the mention of the incident. It’s surreal to believe it only happened yesterday morning.

"It was hard, Mom. Really hard," you admit, your voice catching slightly. "When I first saw those photos, I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I was terrified, embarrassed, and angry all at once. It was like my world had been yanked out from under me."

Your mother wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean into her embrace, grateful for her presence.

You continue, "But then, as we dealt with the fallout, as I spoke with our team and supporters, I realized that this wasn't just about me or the campaign. It was about a much bigger issue - the lack of understanding and support for women's health in our country."

Your mother nods, her eyes widening. "I remember when your Aunt Sarah was struggling with her symptoms for years before they finally diagnosed her fibromyalgia. The doctors kept telling her it was just stress or depression."the

"Exactly!" you exclaim. "And it's not just about diagnosis. It's about research funding, access to care, and education. Did you know that for decades, most medical research was conducted primarily on men? Even in animal studies, they used male rats and mice. It means we have huge gaps in our understanding of how diseases and treatments affect women differently."

As you speak, you feel a familiar fire igniting within you. It's the same passion that drove you to join Steve's campaign in the first place - the desire to make a real difference in people's lives.

"And then there's the stigma," you continue, your words tumbling out faster now. "So many women's health issues are shrouded in shame and silence. Menstrual health, fertility struggles, menopause - these are all normal parts of women's lives, but we barely talk about them openly. And don't even get me started on maternal mortality rate in the United States. It's shockingly high for a developed country, especially for women of color. Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. It's a crisis that's not getting nearly enough attention."

You pause, taking a breath. "The more I learn, the more I realize how much needs to change, and if Steve gets elected, this will be one of my initiatives as First Lady.”

Your mother's eyes widen as she listens to you speak, a mixture of pride and admiration crossing her face. "Honey, I had no idea you'd become so… well, I’m... I'm just so impressed, and I couldn’t agree with you more."

You lean forward, your eyes bright with excitement. "I've been thinking about how we could approach this. We could start with a nationwide listening tour, hearing directly from women about their experiences with the healthcare system. We could partner with medical schools to promote more inclusive research practices. And we could launch a public awareness campaign to break down the stigma.”

Your mother's enthusiasm is palpable, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind as she absorbs all the information you've shared. Suddenly, an idea strikes you, and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and delight dancing across her features. "Me? But you know I'm not a political strategist or a healthcare expert."

You shake your head, grinning. "That's why you would be great! We have plenty of experts and strategists. We need is heads in the room who can translate all of the complexities into real-woman information. And this could be ongoing - after you go home, you could coordinate and consult remotely easy as anything.”

Your mother's eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh honey, I would love that. I've… I haven’t really said this to anyone, but I’ve been starting to wonder what I could do that would mean something getting older, and this feels like something I could really contribute to."

You feel a small lump in your throat at her admission - something that clearly had been worrying her - and now you’re even more enthusiastic about how things are developing with this initiative. Not only has your mother begun to understand your passion for the opportunity this campaign and opportunity could bring, but she's now eager to be a part of it.

"Oh, Mom! I can't wait to introduce you to the team and get your insights. We could start tomorrow morning if you're up for it."

She nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I'll need to brush up on some of these issues, but I'm ready to dive in."

You continue to discuss potential ideas and strategies, and you feel a shift in the energy between you and your mother. The tension from earlier - from the months since you married Steve, honestly - has dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and excitement.

You and your mother continue talking late into the night, brainstorming ideas and sharing stories. As the conversation winds down, you feel a deep sense of gratitude wash over you. Not only has your mother come to understand your passion for the campaign, but she's now eager to contribute her own skills and experiences.

"Mom," you say softly, "thank you for being here. For listening and for wanting to be part of this."

She smiles warmly, pulling you into a hug. "Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. I may not have understood at first, but I can see now how much good you're doing, how much this means to you."

As you settle into bed that night, your mind is buzzing with possibilities. You send a quick text to Steve, updating him on your conversation with your mother and her willingness to help with the women's health initiative. His response is immediate and enthusiastic.

STEVE: That's fantastic! I’m sure your mom's perspective will be invaluable. Can't wait to discuss more tomorrow.💙

[OCTOBER 13 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The next morning, you wake early, eager to start the day. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you knock on your mother's adjoining door. She answers promptly, already dressed and looking just as excited as you feel.

"Ready for your first official strategy meeting?" you ask with a grin.

Your mother smiles a little nervously, but her eyes are still twinkling with anticipation. "I suppose so. Lead the way."

You guide her down to one of the hotel's conference rooms for the current makeshift campaign headquarters. As you enter, you're greeted by the familiar buzz of activity - staffers huddled over laptops, phones ringing, and the ever-present aroma of coffee.

Steve is already there, engaged in a conversation with the communications team, but he breaks away when he sees you and your mother enter. He strides over, a warm smile on his face.

Your mother nods. "Thank you for having me. I'm looking forward to contributing."

And her smile - the real one - is gone.

Oh.

Your eyes flicker to Steve, and although his expression remains open, you notice the note of wariness behind his eyes.

Things had gone so well with your mom you forgot the little issue of her not liking Steve.

As the tension threatens to settle in, you're saved by Mariah, the campaign's health policy advisor, who sweeps into the room with an armful of folders and a tablet balanced precariously on top.

"Oh good, you're all here!" she exclaims, her curly hair bouncing as she sets down her load on the nearest table. "I've got some amazing data from our latest focus groups, and I think it's really going to shape our approach."

Steve checks his watch and grimaces slightly. "I'm afraid I have to leave for that appearance on 'Good Morning Tucson' in half an hour minutes." He turns to you and your mother. "I'm sorry I can't stay, but I'm looking forward to hearing all about it later. I know you'll come up with some fantastic ideas."

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. "No worries, we've got it covered. Good luck at the tv station.”

With a quick squeeze of your hand and a polite nod to your mother, Steve heads out of the room. You turn back to see your mother's smile has become a bit more forced.

"Well," you say brightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness, "shall we get started?"

Mariah nods enthusiastically, gesturing for you and your mother to join her at the table with other members of the team. As you settle in, she begins to lay out the data from the focus groups, explaining the key findings and areas of concern that have emerged.

Your mother listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. You can see her analytical mind working, processing the information and forming connections. Despite her initial coolness towards Steve, you can tell she's fully engaged with the topic at hand, and she easily builds rapport with the rest of the team.

[OCTOBER 15 - DENVER, COLORADO]

"Hey, you," you say as you collapse into the seat next to Steve on the campaign bus. It's been a whirlwind few days since leaving Tucson, with back-to-back events across Arizona and New Mexico before arriving in Colorado. Along with interviews and slew of daily meetings, you've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone spend any quality time with Steve.

The bus rumbles to life, pulling away from the community center where Steve just finished giving a rousing speech on education reform. Through the tinted windows, you can see the crowd still waving signs and cheering as you depart.

Steve looks up from his tablet, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey yourself," he replies, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eye. "Oh really? And here I thought you might be avoiding me. Have you perhaps developed an aversion to your lovely wife?"

Your tone is light, but there's a genuine curiosity beneath the playfulness.

Steve's smile falters slightly, and he lets out a small sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

You give him a knowing look.

He runs a hand over his beard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so transparent. It's just your mother clearly doesn't approve of me, or of our relationship, and I guess I've been trying to avoid giving her more ammunition."

You feel a pang of sympathy for Steve. Your mother's disapproval has been weighing on you too, but you hadn't realized how much it was getting to Steve - your confident husband, the man who seems so fearless and unflagging.

“Thanos was nothing to your mother.”

You scoff, playing up being very affronted. “Are you really saying my mom is scarier than Thanos?”

He laughs. “Yeah, in a way. I only needed to defeat him, not get on his good side.”

You better angle your body to him, and pull his hand into your lap, holding it in both of yours. You can see he’s thinking, so you keep quiet and let him speak.

“I've been feeling a bit out of my depth with your mom. I know how important she is to you, and I want her to like me, but I can't shake the feeling that she's judging my every move."

You nod, understanding dawning. "She can be a bit intense. She's always been protective of me. And our sudden marriage didn't do anything to ease any potential concerns. I don’t know if she would have been more accepting of the arrangement if I’d handled it differently because… well, it was what it was, but…”

You sigh.

“She was very alarmed over how quickly everything happened, and so I did tell her it was a marriage of political strategy and convenience just before the ceremony. I was trying to reassure her that there was no pressure, nothing to be concerned about, but it didn’t make her any happier, just shifted the nature of her concerns.”

Steve looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. "I see. That explains a lot."

You nod, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that conversation earlier. When it happened, we weren’t really…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I didn’t foster any real, deeper connection in the beginning.”

“…and then things between us changed so quickly," you continued.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Again, no need to apologize. I understand. And you're right, things did change fast between us. I still can't believe how lucky I am."

His words warm your heart, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. "Steve, my mom's opinion is important to me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. We're in this together, remember?"

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together. I like the sound of that. More and more every time we say it.”

“Me, too,” you reply.

Suddenly the rumbling of the bus and the chatter of staff members fades away.

Steve's eyes soften as he gazes at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the bus windows bathes him in a warm glow, highlighting the flecks of green in his blue eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. You feel a familiar flutter in your chest, a mix of affection and desire that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens as Steve pulls you closer. His beard tickles your skin, a sensation that never fails to send shivers through you.

You taste a hint of coffee on his breath, mingled with the spearmint of his favorite gum. The scent of his cologne envelops you, now so familiar and intoxicating. Your free hand hands finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss is intense yet affectionate, a perfect balance of passion and emotion. Steve's lips move against yours with a reverence that makes your heart swell, and you find yourself wanting more, but remember where you are.

You reach up, running your fingers along his jawline, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against your skin. Steve leans into your touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. You're struck by how vulnerable and real he is in this moment - so different from the candidate the public sees.

"Steve," you say finally, causing his eyes to flutter open. "What do you think about having dinner with my mom tonight?”

Steve's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Dinner with your mom. Tonight."

You nod, your hand still resting on his cheek. “She flies home tomorrow.”

Steve nods, a determined look overtaking the apprehension from a moment before.

Steve nods, a determined look settling on his face. "So, what's the plan? Do we have time between events?"

You pull out your phone, quickly scanning the day's schedule. "We have a gap after the Denver Tech Center tour.”

"If your mother tries to throw me out a window, you have to promise to come to my aid."

You laugh, the tension broken. "Deal. Though I think even my mom would have trouble throwing Captain America out a window."

"You'd be surprised," Steve chuckles.

“Maybe Sam will loan the shield back to you,” you tease.

The shield isn’t borrowed, but you do rope Sam, Sophia, and Bucky into having dinner with you as well as your mother has grown incredibly fond of and friendly all of three of them over the past three days.

After you’ve ouly just ordered drinks, Sophia gets a message that the two of you need to step out of the restaurant to take an urgent call about some last-minute campaign trail changes. You catch Sam and Bucky exchanging a meaningful glance, and you try to give them a smile that conveys your appreciation that they’re serving as a buffer.

The matter - in your opinion - is really a non-issue, but Sophia says she thinks she better go consult with the logistics team, and you don’t argue when she’s that determined.

But it makes perfect sense when you step back inside the restaurant and take in the scene before you.

Sam and Bucky are standing in the waiting area, looking slightly sheepish, no sign of your mother or Steve.

"What's going on?" you ask pointedly.

Sam steps forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Now, don't be mad. We thought Steve could use some alone time with your mom."

You feel your heart rate quicken. "You left Steve alone with my mother?"

Bucky nods, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "He's faced down HYDRA and alien invasions. We figured he could handle one mother-in-law."

Sam adds, "Steve's been practicing what he wanted to say to your mom for days. Figured this was as good a time as any."

You're not sure whether to laugh or panic. "How long have they been alone?"

"About five minutes," Sam replies. "We figured we'd give them a few more. Or you two will - I’m going to join someone else for dinner.”

You smirk at him. “Enjoy your meal with Sophia.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he says, handing you an earpiece before walking away.

You stand there for a moment, torn between curiosity and concern. Part of you wants to rush back to the table and make sure everything is okay. But another part knows that Sam and Bucky are right - Steve and your mother need this time alone.

Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it'll be alright. Steve's got this."

You take a deep breath, nodding. "I know. I just hope she doesn’t swallow him up."

"If it helps, we can listen in," Bucky says with a mischievous grin, tapping his ear to indicate the communication device.

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Curiosity getting the better of you, you put the earpiece in, Bucky doing the same with his own.

"Okay, just for a minute," you concede, putting the earpiece in.

Steve's voice comes through, clear and steady. "I know our relationship moved quickly, and I understand your concerns."

Your mother's voice follows, her tone measured. "Do you?”

“I know it looks like I swept your daughter into a whirlwind marriage agreement and a high-pressure political campaign. And that is where it all started, but we’re so far beyond that now. It’s become so much more."

"I do know that. And I believe it it, too. I’ve been watching you, you know. Long before I got here, and then of course this week. And I’m perceptive."

Steve pauses, his voice thoughtful when he speaks again. "But you still have reservations about me, don't you?"

There's a moment of silence, and you can almost picture your mother's expression - that slight furrow in her brow she gets when she's carefully considering her words.

"I do," she admits finally, her voice soft but firm. "And I'm trying not to, Steve. I really am."

You hear the clink of glasses, the soft rustle of fabric as someone - probably your mother - shifts in their seat.

Steve's voice is warm when he responds. "She's incredible. But those reservations… I'd like to understand them, if you're willing to share."

Your mother sighs. "It's not just one thing, Steve. It's... well, it's everything. Your past, your public persona, this campaign. I look at you, and I see a man who's lived multiple lifetimes, who's seen and done things I can't even imagine. You've saved the world, for goodness' sake. And my daughter... she's brilliant and strong, but she's also young."

Your mother's voice softens slightly as she responds. "I can see that. I've watched her these past few days, how she's grown into this role. She's always been capable, but now... now she's truly flourishing."

"She is," Steve agrees, warmth evident in his voice. "And I want you to know that I will always support her in that growth. Her dreams, her ambitions - they're just as important as mine."

There's another pause, and you can almost picture your mother nodding slowly, processing Steve's words.

"I appreciate everything you’v said, Steve," she says finally. "And I can see how much you care for my daughter. But I need you to understand something. My daughter - she's always been special. Always been driven to help others, to make a difference. But she's also had her heart broken before. She's been let down by life, everything turned upside down by The Blip."

You feel a pang in your chest at your mother's words, memories of past hurts flashing through your mind.

Your mother's voice becomes softer, more vulnerable. "And I couldn't fix any of that. As her mother, that cut like a knife, and I think... I think I never really took that knife out. I've been carrying it with me, this fear of seeing her hurt again."

You hear her take a shaky breath before continuing. "When she told me about your arrangement, about this whirlwind marriage and campaign, all I could think was, 'Here's another way for her to get hurt.' I was so afraid for her."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture your mother's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But this week... this week has been eye-opening. I've seen her in her element, passionate and driven. I've watched her tackle complex issues with grace and determination. And I've seen how you two show up for each other. I worried it was all for the public, but I know now it’s not.”

You hear your mother take a deep breath. "I can see that, Steve. I really can. And I... I'm sorry if I've been hard on you. I just want to protect her."

“Then we have that in common.”

“We do,” she agrees. “Just give me time. I always loved Jeff, her first husband, but I can see that we could get there, too, Steve.”

Bucky hands you a handkerchief, his metal arm glinting softly in the warm light of the restaurant's entryway. You hadn't even realized you were crying until you feel the soft cotton against your fingertips. You take it gratefully, dabbing at your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

Bucky's metal arm comes to rest around your shoulders, the weight of it comforting and grounding. You lean into him slightly, grateful for the support as you process the emotional exchange you've just witnessed.

[OCTOBER 16 - DENVER AIRPORT]

The Denver International Airport bustles with activity around you, a cacophony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and hurried conversations. Yet in this moment, your focus narrows to your mother standing before you, her carry-on bag at her feet and a bittersweet smile on her face.

"I'm so glad you came, Mom," you say, your voice thick with emotion. The past few days have been another slew of organized campaign chaos, but having your mother here had been a development you didn’t realize you needed.

She reaches out, cupping your face in her hands, her eyes shining with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad I came too. More than you know."

It was good for you, for her, for repairing pieces of your relationship you knew were strained and things you didn’t.

You lean into her touch, feeling for a moment like a little girl again, safe in your mother's embrace, and her strength as your mother had been the thing you needed most from her.

"I'm so proud of you," your mother says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "The work you're doing, the person you've become... it's more than I knew to hope for - a true new chapter for you."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by her words. "Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me."

She pulls you into a tight hug, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, a comforting mix of jasmine and vanilla that instantly transports you back to your childhood home.

As you pull apart, your mother's eyes drift over your shoulder, and her expression softens further. You turn to see Steve approaching, a gentle smile on his face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, coming to stand beside you.

Your mother shakes her head. "Not at all, Steve. I'm glad you're here."

Steve's smile widens as he reaches out to shake your mother's hand. To your surprise, she pulls him into a warm hug instead.

"Take care of my daughter," she says softly, but loud enough for you to hear.

You smile and shake your head.

"Always," Steve replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

As they part, your mother looks between the two of you. "And you two take care of each other. What you're doing is important. Don't lose sight of that, but don't lose sight of each other either."

You nod, feeling Steve's hand come to rest on the small of your back as you reply, "We won't, Mom. I promise."

An announcement over the airport speakers breaks the moment, reminding passengers of the TSA safety checkpoint instructions.

"I better go," she says with a sigh. She picks up her carry-on bag. “Tell Pepper - I assume - thanks for the first-class flight. Of course, I’m ruined now, but it’s worth it.”

The two of you wave and watch her for a moment. It’s early enough there aren’t many people around to take notice of you and Steve.

“Thanks for asking her to come, Steve,” you say.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

“Even with as scary as it was for Captain America to meet his wife’s mom?” you giggle.

He quiets you with a resolute kiss on the mouth that melts away your early morning sass.

But it’s too brief for your liking.

He reaches for your hand as he pulls away. “We better go before we miss our flight,” he says, tugging you along.

You scoff, falling into step beside him. “Because the campaign plane would definitely lift off without its presidential candidate on board.”

He laughs, “Don’t put it past Bucky or Sam to convince them I am there and try to get them to leave without me.”

next part: coming 2/14

Y'all have been waiting a long time on this chapter, and I apologize for that break, but now it's here - and I'm ultimately happy with where it landed. And we're getting close to the end!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

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sparks-and-smoke · 2 days ago

Text

Just a Taste

Part 2

AU Masterlist | Jake's Masterlist

Pairing: CEO!Jake Seresin x Reader (assistant reader)

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: physical intimacy, eating sweets...

Summary: Jake is getting impatient. And you just wanna make s'mores.

A/N: I an attempting to keep these under 4K so I will be posting a part two. Thanks for reading. <3 Also my beta reader is having a rough go RN TT.TT so no beta reader, but her mental health is MORE IMPORTANT. Go give @voice-of-velhart some love!!!

Part 1

That’s was a lie. You absolutely went ham. Jake found himself down by the fire pit, with its comfortable Adirondack chairs and river stone fire ring, stoking the thing into a roar as he watched you walk down the hill with an arm full of various treats.

He's not even a little surprised to see you coming in with a full armload of stuff. He had known damn well you would go overboard with this simple little task.

Jake couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at your approach. "Christ, sugar. How much crap did you get?"

You place you hands on your hips, looking more then a little triumphant. “Enough.”

Pralines, butter cookies, dark chocolate, raspberries, honey, toffee chips, marshmallows bananas…”

He gives you a fond smile, his head shaking in disbelief. Only you would find so many ingredients for a damn s'more.

He steps forward, helping you place everything down on the table next to the fire pit. "You do remember this is supposed to be a s'more, and not some Michelin star dessert, right?"

“But it’s your first s’more. It has to be special. I can’t feed the great Jacob Seresin any less. You’ll never trust me with dessert again!” You tack on the excuse, but really? It was because he was always spoiling you. Always giving you the best when all that is required is the average. And the idea of not doing the same was unthinkable.

This was something you could give him. A new experience, that in all of his high brow, worldly life, he missed. Something as simple as roasting marshmallows by a fire with a- with someone important to him. And you wanted it to be something he looks back on and smiles.

His heart does a stupid little flipping thing in his chest at that. You were trying so damn hard to make this special, to make this moment perfect for him. Jesus, the things you did to his heart.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His hand found yours once again. "You're impossible, you know that, sugar?"

“If I wasn’t you wouldn’t keep me around.” You plop down into one of the deep chairs. Curling into a crisscross sit, and grabbing a skewer. “So, do you want a classic first? Just to have something to compare. We gotta find your PERFECT s’more build.”

He huffed a bit at that, before moving to sit in the chair next to you. He settled back, resting his long legs out in front of him, his hands bracing against the arm rests.

"Fine. Gimme the full experience." He responded, tilting his head to look over at you. A smirk pulling at his mouth at how seriously you were taking this.

“Well you gotta help boss. This is a complicated process.” You explain with a lofty sense of importance. “You have to have the graham cracker and chocolate ready for when the marshmallow is just right!! Or else the chocolate won’t melt right or you'll loose your marshmallow or…”

“OK! Alright-“ he cuts off, sitting up and reaching for his ingredients with a shake of his head. Like he couldn’t stand a single moment more of this little tirade, even if he would have let you lecture him on proper fire pit etiquette all night.

He can't hold back the little chuckle at your tirade, amused as always by your enthusiasm. He grabs the graham crackers and the dark chocolate, setting them down, his expression still amused.

He was so damn fond of you. So enamored by every aspect of your personality, the way you could go on and on about something completely meaningless and make it sound so damn interesting.

"Alright, Miss Know It All," he chuckled, eyeing you playfully. "Educate me then." He gestured for you to continue. His eyes never leaving you, fixed on your face as he waited for your instructions. He would let you nerd out about some dumb ass snack. Hell, he'd let you nerd out about any thing. As long as you were happy. And he got to listen.

You place the marshmallow on the stick. A square cut one from some artisan sweet shop, because why would Jake ever just buy jet-puff marshmallows. And start to explain how you wanna find a spot on the fire that is mostly coals, with no flame, and hold it just so, that the marshmallow slowly toasts on the outside and melts into goo on the inside.

“The flame just burns it. Which. If you like burnt sugar go for it. But for smores I like the marshmallow as gooey as possible.

He follows along, nodding slowly, as though your instructions were the most important information he'd ever received. And the way you explained it? With your voice taking on that excited tone? It was damn near intoxicating.

He watches you toast the marshmallow, his eyes glued to the little candy shaped dough as it slowly toasted.

"Gooey, huh?" He murmurs, raising one dark brow at you.

“Yeah. You’ll see.”

You rotate the skewer slowly. Watching the edges grow golden brown. “I like burnt marshmallows sometimes. When I was young I’d burn them on purpose. Cause you could pull off the outside, like a crunchy caramelized shell. And then you can re-toast the center! And that second roasting-“ you let out this little moan at the memory. “So good.”

God damn if his body didn't respond to that moan. The way your mouth shaped around that little noise was not good for his mental state. His eyes darkened even more as he watched you, that same smirk pulling at his lips again.

"So you're saying you're a connoisseur of burnt marshmallows," he teases you gently.

“Sure am, I’m an expert on a lot of things..” You flash him a grin. “OK hold the grahams out. Chocolate on bottom.”

He does as you requested, holding one of the graham crackers out with one hand. He couldn't help but chuckle at how serious you were taking this whole thing. The great Jake Seresin eating a s'more for the first time.

"You're enjoying this way too damn much, sugar."

You watch with a sense of satisfaction as the marshmallow goops out the side when he squishes it. Perfect. Just perfect. “Go on! take a bite.”

He takes a huge bite, taking in an obscene amount of marshmallow and graham cracker, and…

Jesus.

He closes his eyes, a hum of approval escaping his chest. It's surprisingly fucking good.

He swallows the mouthful, licking his lips thoughtfully before shaking his head and looking at you. "Alright… you might be on to something here."

The grin You give him is all teeth when you see his eyes light up. “Right!! I knew you’d like it.”

With a start, you get up and begin arranging a few more complicated smores sandwiches. Like a little flight of mini deserts. “Now to figure out your favorite fancy s’more.”

It was gonna be a lot of sugar, and you look over at him. Still enjoying his bite. “You wanna share these with me. So we don’t get stomach aches?”

You don’t know if that’s an overstep. As picky as Jake can be he may very well be a germaphobe but- you could ask.

He's about to protest about a "fancy s'more," because, he honestly just likes the classic ones, but he sees that look in your eyes. And he knows better than to question you.

Hi lifts his brow , but he doesn't protest. Instead, he just nods, patting his lap, a clear invitation for you to come sit.

"Come on, sugar. Of course I do."

Your heart races a little at the invitation to sit so close but it would make the ensembly easier… right? Sure. Yeah, that was the reason.

You should object to this. Should keep a professional distance. Even on vacation… but your weak. And it's cooling off. And sitting with him sounds so fucking tempting. So you give in.

You make three sandwiches. A banana foster one, with a slice of banana and toffee chips, on butter cookies. A variation on your favorite, one that won’t make Jake swell like a balloon, with an almond butter cup and slice or strawberry. And the last with dark chocolate, raspberry preserve, and seat salt.

You explain each to Jake as you sit down with him. Your thigh pressed against his as you place the tray on the arm of his chair.

With you sat down next to him, pressed right up against his side, it was like a damn electric shock straight to his core. The air felt thick, and he inhaled deeply, trying to ground himself. He's suddenly glad he grabbed one of the big chairs.

His eyes flicker from the s'mores that have been prepared, to the little description you've given him. He couldn't help himself as a soft chuckle escapes him.

"You know I would've been fine with a plain old classic, right sugar."

You shrug. “I like making fun food, especially for my friends.”

Friends, oh that word burns in Jake’s ears. He never wants to hear you call him your friend again…

He wants to protest. His mind is screaming at him, desperate to correct you. Because he has never hated the word friend more than in this moment.

But he doesn't, he just nods slowly, Filing the word friends away, next to boss and sir as the worst names in the English language. As his eyes fixate on the s'mores in front of him.

Deep down, he knows you don't mean any harm. And yet, that word has never stung as much as it did right now.

He wanted more from you. He wanted to be your lover. Not your boss, and certainly a damn friend.

“Which one first.” You shift a bit, getting comfortable and your knee comes up over his thigh as you twist. You look up at Jake and when he doesn’t look uncomfortable at the placement you leave it.

He knows the moment you shift he's gonna do something reckless. The placement of your knee across his thigh, your body pressing up against his side, has his heart slamming in his chest. It's driving him wild, having you this close, and yet still not being able to touch you, the way he craved.

His hand finds a resting place on your hip, as if completely on instinct. He tries to act like its totally normal, that your touch isn't completely driving him goddamn insane.

He glances at the first s'more. "That banana one, I guess."

“You wanna roast the marshmallow?”

He shakes his head with a soft smirk, his thumb rubbing over the fabric of your shorts, right over your hip bone.

"No chance, darlin. I'm not doing a damn thing." He murmurs, his gaze flicking to your face. Something about this whole moment is so damn cozy. "I'm just going to sit here and watch you work your magic."

You’d snort in an undignified way. “You always make me do all the work. Your gonna have to give up some off your bourbon for that one.”

You reach out and take his glass taking a defiant drink. The liquor is deep and rich, smoky even though it’s cold. Ans it makes your chest burn pleasantly as it goes down. His eyes widen and you relish in the way his nose scrunches at your audacity. But he is still smiling, even though you can see his mind churning on how he will retaliate.

The playful energy between you is comfortable. Familiar. And yet new and charged in a way that make your chest hum with more then just the burn from the alcohol.

He huffs a laugh at your brazen action, shaking his head in amused disbelief. You were such a damn brat, stealing a sip of his bourbon like that.

And he was completely infatuated by the little smirk that played on your lips as you did so. God, he wanted to kiss that little smirk off your face.

He takes back his glass with a smirk of his own, his hand on your hip giving a subtle, but firm, squeeze. "You're a little thief, you know that."

That little squeeze has your breath catching, your entire body suddenly feeling a lot hotter for a totally different reason. He's just so strong and his hands are so damn big.

You swallow hard, trying to get your heart back under control. You give him a little smirk and a wink. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

You roast the first marshmallow, all too aware of Jake eyes on you as you do. You tell a little story about camping as a kid. But you know you’re just rambling, filling silence.

That first smore is delicious. Gooey and crunchy all at once. You let Jake have the first bite. And she you take it from him and try it you moan again. “Oh that’s delicious!”

God that sound, that little damn moan, was like fuel on the fire of the need burning in his chest. Jake was pretty damn convinced you were doing it on purpose by now.

The sound of your voice, rambling on about some fond memory, is just a background noise for his mind, as he watches you moan around the s'more.

He swallows hard, biting back his own low-sounding groan. He's still staring at your mouth, thinking about what other sounds he could get you to make.

The next one is your favorite. Or at least a spin on it. Jake is silent while you make it. Just watching. The playful energy from before has ebbed and melted into something warm between you. Sticky and sweet as the treats you prepare.

You offer the treat to him but he insists you take the first bite. Shaking his head gently. "No, I want to watch you enjoy it."

You blink in surprise, pausing only a second before you try your concoction.

He's completely transfixed by you, watching your expression as you take the first bite. The way you close your eyes and moan, like it's something sinful, is almost enough to make him combust.

He's never been more jealous of a damn graham cracker and marshmallow in his whole life. He can't stop watching your lips as you hum in pleasure, tasting the delicious creation you've made.

“Not as good as the original but I think you’ll-“ your sentiment dies in your throat when you offer out the s’more.

Thinking that he would take it in his hand you hold it out. But instead Jake cranes down and wraps his mouth around the last bit of the bite. His warm pink lips wrapping around your fingers in the process with an in repentant groan. Molten eyes fluttering closed as your center clenches around nothing unexpectedly and every thought you’ve ever had melts into mush .

He doesn't miss the way your breath hitches in your chest, or the way your eyes flutter, as he takes that bite from your hand. His gaze never leaving your face.

Watching, as your expression shifts from surprise to something else.

God, he can't help himself, licking away the stickiness of the marshmallow from his mouth, his voice gruff as he speaks. "Jesus honey, you make some damn good s'mores."

You don’t response, you can’t. Your brain is scrambling with new information. The warmth of his mouth. The way he doesn’t move away, his fingers still holding your wrist firmly, his eyes dark and drinking you in. It’s deliberate. Purposeful. And you know, just know none of that was an accident. And it pulls the earth out from beneath you.

He did it on purpose. He’s been doing it all on purpose. And you have been either too naive… or too stubborn to see it. And deep down you know you’re too smart to deny which one it was.

His lips brush over the pulse point of your wrist as he speaks, his eyes roaming over your face. The heat of your skin, and the wild beat of your pulse is like gasoline to the need burning in his chest.

Jake can feel he's losing his self-control. The way your eyes are going hazy and your breathing is labored has him feeling like some damn savage.

He leans even closer to you, his voice dropping into husky and low as he murmurs, "Say something sugar."

“I- I—“ you stutter. Mind proving everything together all at once and it feels like too much. Like you can’t possibly be right but he is still looking at you. Begging for something you can’t admit you want too. So much. Too much.

You watch his tether snap, as his head rolls just a little like he is debating for just one moment before his other hand is sliding into your hair and with a surge of urgency he kisses you.

His control snaps with a sudden and devastating force and he's suddenly surging forward, closing that last gap between you.

Jake's hand is suddenly tangled in your hair pulling you even closer as his mouth crashes down on yours, hard and hot and urgent.

He can't control the desperate growl that bubbles low in his chest, his body moving on autopilot, pressing against you, desperate for touch.

He kisses you like a man possessed, like every bit of restraint he's held onto for so long is just gone.

And when you moan this time, low and needy. It’s all for him. For Jake. And that makes something deeply possessive crawl up Jake’s throat. Something ancient and untapped in him claw free inside him.

He practically growls as he pulls back, trying not to overstep. Not to take if it’s not welcome.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes darkened, almost feral, as he searches your face desperately. The sound of your moan is still echoing in his ears, that possessive need clawing inside of him, demanding to be let loose.

He wants to take, to claim you for himself, but he holds back. Barely.

Goddamn it, he thinks, his voice gruff and rough as he murmurs, "Baby-"

Baby. the name sounds like honey on his breath and you find yourself not wanting to pull away. Even if you should.

You fit your hand I that unearthly soft flannel of his and tug him back to you. Capturing his mouth and nipping at his bottom lip. You can’t think and you don’t want too.

That can be a problem for tomorrow’s you. Tonight, you wanna give in to the years spoiling and light touches and soft looks, that you have reasoned away. But we’re now melted and molten, pooling in your gut as a sea of want.

And just like that. Jake knows he’s won.

The way you say his name, the feel of your tongue against his, the needy way you press against him, God. He can't hold back anymore.

He's gone. His brain completely short circuiting as the need, the want, the possessiveness takes over.

A low sound growls from the back of his throat, his arm wrapping even tighter around you, pulling you fully into his lap, his hands grasping almost desperately at you, his mouth moving against yours with bruising pressure.

“Jake..” you whisper. And fuck, he’s never hear you say his name that softly.

That soft whisper of his name has him practically groaning against your mouth. His own hands, rough and calloused, roaming desperately over your body, touching you like he's a damn man starved. Because to goddamn hell with it.

He wants you, bad. More than he's ever wanted anything. And with the way you're reacting to him, the way you're pressed against him, he's pretty goddamn sure you want him too.

“How long?”

Since forever sugar.

His mind is hazy with need for you, his hands roaming over your body as he buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

"Too damn long, baby- ah- God.." he groans against your neck, his hands sliding under your shirt, wanting to touch as much of you as possible.

“Why have you never said-“

“Would you have believed me Sugar?” He asks. The question catches you off guard, his words murmured against your skin between biting kisses. And goddammit, you can't think, not with him touching you, not with his hands roaming your skin and his voice all rough and gruff in your ear.

You manage to gasp out an answer, breathless. "I- I don't know-" you murmur back, your words dissolving into a moan as he finds a sensitive spot right by your collarbone-

You do t know if you truly believe him now but after the last few days you want too. All the evidence showers down around you like a monsoon as Jake touches you like your the only thing he has ever needed. And maybe you are.

Jake's brain is gone, it's like his thoughts have taken a vacation. All he can focus on is the feel of you, the sound of your gasp, the way you taste. He wants to mark you. Wants to claim you so the whole damn world can see exactly who you belong to. Because he's a possessive bastard at heart.

He sucks a dark mark right under your collarbone, his voice rough as he murmurs against your skin, "Mine.."

“Do you wanna…” You ask not knowing if you can stand the answer.

He pauses, his mouth still against your skin as he tries to gather his thoughts long enough to form words. You taste so goddamn good and it's making it hard to think, let alone form a sentence.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze darkened, his expression almost feral as he murmurs, "Yes, I do. But not here Sugarcane. I have waited far too long to take you outside. when I take you-“ When not if “-it will be in a bed. Slow and thorough. Like my girl deserves.”

It's all said with complete conviction, making it very clear what he has planned for you. He has waited far too long for this to let it be anything less then what you deserve.

He wants to take his time with you. He wants to worship you with his body. He wants to make you scream. And he's not going to do that in his goddamn yard.

Jake leans in, his lips brushing along your jawline as he murmurs, "So come on baby. Bed."

(A/N: Part three ???)

#jake seresin #sparks writes #topgun x reader #top gun maverick #topgun corp au #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin x reader #CEO!Jake Seresin

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swanpetals · 3 days ago

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your first time being on top — c.k.

clark kent x fem!reader

18+, MDNI

above everything, clark kent respected your comfort first. you and he were just starting to really understand and explore one another's bodies. had found the spots that felt just right.

when he prepped you for his length with a curious tongue on your clit and fingers placed on the spot that felt just right.

or when he was inside of you and he would reach down to rub your clit with his thumb. would coo in your ear, praising how well you were doing, how gorgeous you looked, how perfect and tight you were for him.

you felt so small in the best way as he thrust into you, foreheads touching as he thrust in and out of your sweet pussy. he loved that he was able to kiss the tip of your nose, pepper kisses on your neck. he loved being close to you.

he was really getting the hang of it. you both were.

—

"clark?" you ask, the question drawn out as a moan as he thrusts into you. he loved when you said his name.

"mmm, yeah sweetheart?"

"i was w-wondering, if we could try something new", you grit out as he doesn't let up his thrusts.

"was wondering if i could try being on top..." you continue.

clark's momentum slows to a slow grind as he considers your question. you feel every inch of him as you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"you- you want to?" he says, eyes wide, still fully inside you.

"yeah...i think it could feel really good. but only if you want to."

clark pulls you into a searing kiss, petting your hair as his cock twitched inside of you as he drank you in, overwhelmed with the possibilities of seeing you on top of him.

"if you want that too, of course i want to..."

like everything you'd done up to this point, it was a trial and error as you arranged yourself on top of him, hands grasped tightly together. something you loved was how he was always willing to stumble through new things with you until it felt right.

you sit on top of him, pussy still wet from the way he was fucking you before.

"i forget how big you are sometimes," you say as you rub your clit, biting your lip as you take in his length with admiration in your eyes.

you line him up, taking his cock in your small hands and rubbing him against the seam of your lower lips, up and down, rubbing over your clit. evoking a hiss from him.

"don't tease, sweetheart," clark warns, earning a giggle from you.

"alright, alright."

you hold his hands in yours as you sink down, inch-by-inch. your head is thrown back as you descend, bottom lip worried between your teeth.

"oh f-fuck.." you moan. you take your time sinking down onto him, even needing to stop halfway as you collapse onto your forearms, resting on his chest. he rubs your back with a gentle hand.

"you alright?" he asks, sweet eyes full of concern.

"i've...i just can't believe how good you feel, clark", you moan as you continue to sink down until you've taken all of him, to the hilt.

"does that feel okay?" you double check with him. you wanted to be sure.

"does it feel- god baby. you feel incredible." he moans as you curiously begin to lift yourself up, tight walls squeezing his dick as you sink back down, finding your own rhythm.

he looks up at you in awe, seeing your head thrown back as you take charge, finding what feels good.

"god, you're gorgeous," he moans, reaching around to palm the cheeks of your ass as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock, pulling you closer.

you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

a/n: not proofread, just shamelessly writing bc i can't get that sweetheart out of my head. i hope you enjoyed. requests are open.

#clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #clark kent x you #clark kent blurb #🦢 writes

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redrose10 · 3 days ago

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Mafia Boss Yoongi x Female Reader

Summary: When your father can't repay a debt to The Min Family, you’re forced to marry Yoongi, the cold, feared son of Min Haneul. But behind his hard exterior, you discover a gentle, protective side—one that just might take you and everyone by surprise.

Warnings: Violence, guns, swearing, arranged marriage, gangs, gambling, smoking, drinking, murder, sexual assault, stabbing, mentions of blood and surgical procedure, hints of smut, slight possessiveness, Smut in this chapter

Word Count: 3,624

Chapter 6

“We’re leaving for Italy in the morning.”, Yoongi said taking a seat at the table with you bringing a cold breeze with him from the outside world.

Your head jerked a little not sure if you had heard him right. He leaned back in his chair tapping the edge of his glass with a single finger, “I have a house there. In the countryside, quiet, remote, off the grid. My brother purchased it years ago. We were…we were going to move there one day and start a new life together outside of crime. Now nobody knows about it except for me and Jimin. That makes it one of the few places left they can’t trace us to.”

You nodded, “Okay then. Italy.”

“We’ll need forged documents, cash only for everything, and to cut contact with everyone but Hoseok. He’ll be our intel back home.

Jimin slipped back inside then reading the room quickly, “So, we’re really doing this?” Yoongi nodded once, “I want the plane ready by dawn. No flight plans filed, no chatter. Burners only.”

Jimin’s grin was humorless, “Guess I’ll go make some calls.”

As he disappeared again you wrapped your arms around yourself. The weight of it pressed in, you were leaving everything you had ever known behind. But beneath the fear, there was something else: a flicker of possibility.

Yoongi caught the look in your eyes and softened, “I know it’s asking a lot Y/N. I know it’s scary. But it’s the only way I can keep you out of their reach. One day…once everything is settled we’ll be able to return back to normal.”

He got up and walked over kneeling on the floor in front of you, his hands placed warmly on your thighs, “I promise Y/N…I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll beat them. Well win. We’ll get through this. And then you’ll know nothing but a life of luxury and love forever.”

You shook your head but didn’t argue.

That night was a blur of shadows and whispered commands. Jimin drove for hours, headlights off, guiding the SUV down back roads you had never seen before to a location outside of the air space. You sat in the back with Yoongi, his right hand threaded through yours while his left had a tight grip on a pistol, pointer finger ready on the trigger.

When you reached the open field a small plane waited, its engine already humming. A man you didn’t recognize waved you closer, face hidden under a ball cap. Yoongi said his name was Jin. An old friend. He could be trusted.

“This is it.”, Yoongi said quietly squeezing your hand, “Once we’re up there, there’s no going back.”

You swallowed hard, “Then let’s not look back.”

His mouth twitched into a half-smile, half-grimace and together you stepped out into the night with Jimin close behind, eyes constantly moving. The roar of the engine swallowed the world behind you at the plane took off without incident.

When you landed, the countryside greeted you with a soft golden dusk, rolling hills spilling into vineyards, the air scented faintly of olive trees and wildflowers. The house stood tucked into a gentle valley, rustic stone walls and terracotta roof, surrounded by cypress trees that swayed in the evening breeze. It looked almost peaceful…too peaceful to be real.

Yoongi led the way inside, Jimin following still alert, scanning every corner with a hand on his gun as if expecting someone. The interior was simple but elegant: high ceilings, exposed beams, an enormous fireplace, and large windows that framed the sunset perfectly. You could almost forget, almost, that danger had chased you here.

Yoongi dropped his bag by the staircase, shoulders finally loosening, though only slightly. He gave you a look that was both commanding and strangely soft, “We’re here. For now.”

You took in a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs, sunlight painting your hair in streaks of gold. “It’s… beautiful,” you admitted voice low.

“Beautiful.”, Yoongi repeated almost to himself before adding, “But we don’t get to admire it for long. Tomorrow, we start planning. Intel, allies, contingencies. Everything.”

Jimin moved around the place like he had lived there before, wiping dust from the counters, testing locks, checking windows just to be sure. At some point, Yoongi disappeared into town with a demand that you stay behind even though you begged, but his final answer was no so he walked out leaving you and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

You tried to help by tugging open cupboards and drawers to see what kind of utensils were provided, “Does he ever… rest?”, you asked Jimin.

He snorted while hanging a set of large wind chimes near the back door as an alarm to warn of intruders, “Yoongi? No. The guy runs on caffeine with a hint of whiskey, spite, and guilt.”, though his tone softened almost like he hadn’t meant to let it show, “But don’t let him fool you. He’s the kind of person who’ll bleed himself dry just to make sure the people he cares about don’t even get scratched.”

By the time the sky went dark Yoongi had returned and somehow taken over the kitchen. He tied his hair back in a way you’d never seen making your jaw drop at the sight of him, knife flashing against the cutting board, movements economical but steady. The place smelled heavenly of garlic, grilled meat, and sweet wine.

You perched on the counter, swinging your legs, watching him with thinly veiled amusement, “Didn’t picture you as the domestic type.”

Yoongi didn’t even look up, “Again…cooking is a basic survival skill. I learned fast that the world won’t feed you unless you take the knife yourself.”

Jimin wandered in with a bottle already uncorked, plopping three mismatched glasses onto the table, “Don’t let him make it sound dramatic. The truth is he used to cook for us when things were bad. He would act like it was nothing, but those nights…”, he poured, shoulders hitching with a small laugh, “Those nights were the only reason we remembered we were still human and why many of us are even still breathing.”

Yoongi shot him a warning glance, but Jimin just shrugged and handed you your glass, “The guy’s not good at saying it, but he’s always been the one holding the pieces together. Even when he was breaking more than any of us himself.”

The words hung there heavier than the heat rising from the stove. You glanced at Yoongi he hadn’t said a thing, but the faint pink dusting his ears gave him away. He kept stirring the pan like the food’s fate depended on it.

You took a sip of wine letting it linger on your tongue before you said quietly with a smirk, “Yeah…that sounds like him. Charming.”

Dinner ended with laughter which hadn’t happened much lately. Jimin teasing, you chiming in, Yoongi rolling his eyes but fighting back a smile. But Jimin’s slip stayed with you, tucked like a stone in your pocket: that maybe, underneath all the anger and stoic voices and violence, Yoongi had been caring for people long before you ever stepped into his world.

The three of you sat crammed around the tiny table, laughter coming even easier with each refill of wine.

Then Jimin, grinning wickedly, dropped the coup de grâce, “Did he tell you he used to keep a journal of love songs he wrote? Whole notebooks. He swore he’d be the next tragic ballad king.”

You almost choked, “Wait…love songs?!”

Yoongi buried his face in his hand, “I WILL END you Park.”

Jimin leaned back ignoring the threat knowing it was empty, smug as ever, “Ask him about the one with the chorus about cherry blossoms. Still gets misty-eyed if you hum it.”

The look Yoongi shot across the table could have leveled a city, but his ears stayed stubbornly pink giving him away. And you tipsy and giddy couldn’t stop smiling at your embarrassed shy husband.

By the time the bottle was empty, Jimin was slouched on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, muttering half-formed lyrics about cherry blossoms under his breath before drifting into snores. You and Yoongi lingered at the table with the candles burned low to nubs.

You gathered plates, tipsy warmth still buzzing in your veins, “I can’t believe you used to write love songs.”, you teased, stacking bowls.

Yoongi followed you into the kitchen, shaking his head, ears and cheeks turning even pinker, “I was sixteen. There was this girl who lived next door to me. It was dumb.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear one.”, you nudged him with your hip as you set dishes in the sink.

He gave a low laugh, the kind that rumbled in his chest more than his throat, “Not happening. If Hoseok hasn’t burned those notebooks yet, I will when we get back.”

You reached for the pan still on the stove, but his hand grabbed yours stilling it, “Hot,” he murmured moving it aside himself. The brush of his fingers lingered longer than necessary and suddenly the silence stretched just the crackle of the fire in the next room and the clank of dishes in the sink.

You dried your hands on a rag, watching him rinse the plates, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing with the motion. Somehow, in this kitchen in the middle of nowhere, the sight of him at a sink felt more intimate than anything else you had shared.

“You’re… different like this.”, you said quietly.

He glanced over brow raised, “Like what?”

“Normal.”, you admitted, “Like you could belong to this life of dinner and dishes in the countryside instead of…the other one.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just finished the last dish, set it in the rack, and turned toward you, drying his hands slowly, “Yeah I think I could. Especially if you were in it.”

Before you could reply a particularly loud snore rattled from the couch breaking the moment. You both laughed softly, tension unraveling into something tender.

Yoongi stepped closer brushing his thumb against your hand, “Come on,” he said, voice low gentle, “Let’s leave him to drool all over the couch cushions. He deserves it. We’ll take the bed.”

And though the world outside was still dangerous, still waiting, you let him lead you away.

The bedroom was small but comfy. A single fan whirring lazily overhead. The sheets smelled faintly of eucalyptus as Yoongi shut the door behind you. For a moment, he just stood there, hands braced on the wood and head held low like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

When his eyes lifted to yours they were stripped bare of all the sharpness he carried outside those four walls. He turned and looked at you with a softness you were sure he only showed to you.

The air seemed to shift then heavy with something unspoken. He crossed the room slowly like each step might spook the moment away. When his hand finally cupped your jaw, thumb tracing the line of your cheek, you leaned into him instinctively. His kiss started tentative, lips warm and searching, then deepened as if he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

The mattress dipped as he pressed you back, his body hovering above yours, careful and steady even as his breathing went ragged. Fingers slid over your sides, memorizing every shape like he needed proof you were really here. You tugged at the hem of his shirt and he helped you peel it away, tossing it aside with a shaky laugh against your mouth. The dark pink scars that marred his pale skin a constant reminder of the past.

Skin to skin, the heat was dizzying. He kissed down your throat, each press of his lips unhurried, reverent. His hand found yours against the sheets, lacing your fingers together as if to anchor himself to the moment.

When his mouth traced the edge of your collarbone, you gasped his name, and he stilled, lifting his head. The look in his eyes wasn’t hunger it was something softer and much more dangerous.

Clothes shed slowly, the way you might unwrap something precious, each layer a quiet surrender. He touched you like you were fragile and fierce all at once, pausing to read your breaths, your tremors, your quiet pleas. He wanted it to be all about you. Every move was deliberate, patient, less about urgency, more about memorizing and ultimate pleasure.

He kissed down your breast to your stomach and hips. Once he reached your thighs be nipped at the inside making you whine with desire. You could feel him smirk against your skin. You hated and loved it.

His tongue worked magic on your core like you didn’t know was possible. He had you on edge within minutes. His own moans and lazy thrusts against the mattress to find relief for himself only fueled you harder. You came on his mouth in an embarrassingly fast timeframe, your thighs squeezing against his head both pleading for him to stop from the overstimulation, but never wanting it to end. He sat back looking at you with eyes that showed both love and desperation.

And seeing him leaned back on his heels, out of breath, mouth glistening with your arousal, and his painfully hard cock desperate for attention ignited something in you. Within seconds you managed to have him pushed on his back against the mattress. You swore you heard him yelp in surprise, but chose to ignore the sound instead of teasing him.

You didn’t give him time to question it. Taking him in your mouth you savored the weight of him, the taste, the heat, all of it and any of it that you could get. Bobbing your head up and down you hummed around his length earning a loud moan that bounced off of the walls surrounding you.

“Th-That’s it. Good girl Y/N.”, he gasped running his long fingers through your hair, his head rolling against the mattress in bliss.

You were messy with it. Maybe partially as a thank you of some kind. You wanted him to fall apart in your mouth as he cried your name, but he had other plans. Yoongi grabbed your hair tugging just enough to get your attention without hurting you, “Y/N…You gotta…Gotta stop…please.”, he said whining as you pulled off of him as slowly possible. You released him with a loud pop, before giving the head a few licks for good measure.

“Get up here…now.”, he growled pulling you to the headboard, “I need to be inside of you.”

When he finally slid into you he buried his face in your neck with a low guttural sound that spoke more than words ever could. His pace was steady, controlled, like he wanted to draw out every second.

“Princess…I’m…I’m not gonna last long.”, he panted trying to control his desires, “You just…just take me so well…just feel too good…li-like you were made exactly for me Y/N. C-Can’t wait to fill you up. Mark you with my seed. You’re mine. Mine….Forever.” Each powerful thrust he gave you was done with a purpose. You had never experienced someone who was constantly giving you their all like him before.

You clenched around him, hard. Your second impending orgasm near. “That’s it Y/N…take it…..take what you need from me baby.”, he gritted in between grunts of his own pure pleasure.

Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere making you cry out in relief. You held him close, nails digging lightly into his shoulders, grounding yourself in the press of his weight, the rhythm of his hips that carried you both higher.

He came not long after, hips stuttering as he spilled inside of you with a long deep groan of your name.

Afterwards as you both came down from your highs, he stayed still, buried deep within you, chest heaving, sweat dampening his hair against your skin. He didn’t roll away, didn’t retreat into silence. He propped himself up with his forearms to not crush you with his full weight and placed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, “I could live in this moment forever.”, he whispered in your ear.

And for the first time that didn’t feel impossible.

The next morning hit with brutal sunlight shining through the shutters. Your body ached pleasantly, the sheets tangled around your legs, Yoongi still naked and half-asleep beside you with one arm thrown over your waist like a protective lock. You lay there a moment longer savoring the quiet sounds of the sparrows outside.

Then came a noise.

“Ughhh.”, Jimin groaned from the other room loud enough to shake the thin walls.

Yoongi buried his face in the crook of your neck muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, I’m going to kill him.

You stifled a laugh and slipped out of bed, tugging on one of Yoongi’s shirts before padding into the kitchen. Jimin sat slumped at the table, hair sticking up in every direction, head cradled in his arms. An empty bottle of wine rolled dangerously close to the edge of the counter.

“Coffee?.”, you offered.

He cracked one eye open, “I’d sell my soul for a cup right now.”

Yoongi appeared a few minutes later, hair damp from the shower, expression flat as he slid a mug across the table, “Drink this and quit whining.”

Jimin accepted with both hands like it was the last precious cup on Earth. After a long sip he threw his head back and sighed dramatically like all had been restored.

You couldn’t help but laugh and even Yoongi’s glare softened a little. For a few minutes the kitchen was filled only with the clink of cups and the sound of Yoongi slicing through the rye bread he had purchased the day before.

Then the burner phone buzzed on the counter cutting through the domestic calm. Yoongi grabbed it eyes narrowing at the message on the screen. His voice was flat when he read it aloud: Hanuel met with Jihyo last night. They’re moving faster than expected.

Jimin knowing the seriousness immediately sat up straighter despite his hangover, “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi’s gaze found yours steady but heavy. “No more running. We can’t stay ghosts forever. If Hanuel’s throwing in with Jihyo, they’ll smoke us out sooner or later.” He dropped the phone onto the table, “So we cut this off before they gain momentum. Hit them where it hurts.”

Your pulse jumped, “And where’s that?”

He leaned in, voice low, every trace of sleep or softness gone now, “Their supply lines. Money, weapons, the pipeline that feeds Jihyo’s rise and keeps my father afloat. We cut it they starve. My father can only do so much. And when he comes looking for leverage…”, his hand brushed yours under the table like a quiet promise, “…he won’t find any with us.”

Jimin groaned again this time less from the hangover and more from what he knew was coming. “Guess I better sober up fast.”, he said taking a big gulp of coffee no longer savoring its taste.

The air felt heavier after Yoongi’s words like the kitchen itself had absorbed the tension. He was already reaching for the second burner phone in his bag, thumbing through contacts with a speed that said he’d been ready for this moment longer than he let on.

“Jimin pull the list of suppliers. Start with the ones in Busan, Bangkok, and Tokyo.”, he ordered his voice clipped, sharp.

Jimin blinked still pale from his hangover but alert now, “You’re really cutting them loose?” Yoongi’s jaw flexed as he brought the phone to his ear, “Every last one. Their power depends on a river of money and guns. We turn that river into a desert.”

You sat frozen at the table your mug forgotten. The calm warmth of just a few minutes ago coffee, soft sunlight, Yoongi’s hand brushing yours was gone. He was back in his element, every syllable edged in steel.

The first call went fast. Yoongi’s voice lowered into that dangerous calm that could slice a man in half., “Your shipments stop now. You keep supplying her you become a corpse. I won’t ask twice.”

A pause, muffled yelling on the other end. Yoongi’s fingers tapped once against the table, then he ended the call without another word.

“That one’s out.”, he said flatly.

The next call wasn’t as smooth. You could hear the outrage bleeding through the line even from across the room. “I don’t care what she promised you. The money won’t be of any use to you if you’re dead now will it? Choose wisely.”, his tone was glacial, unyielding.

Yoongi hung up harder this time the burner clattering onto the counter. He exhaled slowly as if forcing the anger back into his chest because he knew you were watching.

Jimin let out a low whistle, “You’re torching bridges, hyung. These people don’t forgive easy. You will still need people on your side when this is all said and done.”

Yoongi finally looked at him, dark eyes steady., “They’ll forgive faster than Jihyo ever would. I’d rather deal with the consequences of a lost business deal than loosing someone close to me.”, he said eyes flicking to you before quickly looking away.

Weeks went by with various phone calls and whispers between Yoongi and Jimim and calls to Hoseok. You tried to stay out of the way, keeping busy by tending to the flowers and collecting lemons from the trees outside.

One morning while the room was quiet and peaceful again the phone buzzed somehow louder than usual it seemed. Yoongi snatched it up eyes narrowing. He read the incoming message once, twice then his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite relief, wasn’t quite satisfaction.

He turned the screen so you and Jimin could see the message from Hoseok:

Jihyo tried to double-cross her supplier in Beijing last night. She was getting panicked knowing that you had starting getting her cut off. Walked into the deal with half the payment and twice the arrogance. They left her in the dirt. No survivors.

For a heartbeat you could only stare at the words. Jihyo the woman who’d been the shadow under your bed for weeks, the one whose name alone left your pulse racing, was gone. Just like that. It was a fast reminder of the cut-throat world you were now a part of.

Jimin sat back and chuckled, “Shit. That’s… I guess that’s one way to solve a problem.”

Your throat was dry, “So it’s over?”

Yoongi’s gaze cut to you, softer now but no less intense. He shook his head once, “Not even close. Jihyo was reckless. Unseasoned. We just got lucky that she was dumb enough to mess with the wrong people at the right time. There’s still Haneul. He’s patient. Calculating. He’s been doing this longer than we’ve been alive. He’ll see her fall as his chance to tighten the leash around us and just do things his way.”

The relief you had felt for half a second drained right back out of you.

Yoongi reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours again, deliberate this time, “But this does work in our favor. No more partner for him to lean on. No more army building behind our backs. Now it’s just him. And I know him…better than he thinks.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched almost a smirk. He leaned back finally letting the burner rest on the counter out of sight, “We keep starving his channels just like we have been. And once everything’s in motion…”, he paused, his eyes finding yours again, “I’ll go back to Seoul. From there…I’ll finish this once and for all.”

Not my favorite chapter I’ve ever written, but it is what it is. Also not sure why it’s formatting so weird. We’re getting close to the end though! I don’t think we’re prepared…

Series Tag list: @glasschildsworld @yoon-woosgrl @belleilichil @llallaaa @readeryaknow @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @onepieceisrealbitch @yoongiiuu93 @kiki-zb @jajabro @magic-shop-stories @ksval-idk @lindsayjoy444 @yareizu @misfits1a @evemds

Permanent Tag List: @kam9404 @itsmina29 @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup

#bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts suga #yoongi au

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