#old style diner

[vintage-tigre]

[fieriframes]

[Kzgjl jatk sjw vgfw. Ow ygl gmj tjwsv. Ow lgsklwv al gf lzw xdsllgh]

[mydollsaregay]

just got the february catalogue. this is literally the only page about the historicals 😭

[br1ghtestlight]

i think having breakfast at dennys would fix me but unfortunately like the only dennys in my town was shut down recently due to asbestos violations so i dont think thats gonna happen </3

[the-a-f-t-e-r-m-a-t-h]

Lost in time

[muirneach]

to dine at the trini place or to dine at the old diner one of those impossible choices. but here i am ordering a roti

[auroras-and-daydreams]

I can't believe that at this time next week, I will be home-home on my birthday trip

[bruisedfig]

manhandle — dean winchester ༢ུ࿓

inspired by this anon here .ᐟ

warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), loverboy!dean, gentle manhandling, est. relationship (soft dom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

⟢ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

dean was always touching you. he simply just couldn’t help himself. you were his comfort. his person. his home. the one thing in this world that was entirely and unequivocally his.

and so the flirty little touches—like a hand that lingers just a few seconds too long on your back or on your thigh—had become your comfort. your constant. your grounding force. they were just so quintessentially dean.

the two of you had been following up on some leads about the case you were working on. dean had been all over you all day as usual, but considerably more so when you had been interviewing a group of young college guys about a victim. dean didn't like how the three guys had been staring at you, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. you noticed the sharp look dean gave them and felt a possessive hand pressed against your lower back, making its way down to your hip, resting there comfortably.

you couldn't help but smile a little as their faces dropped, averting their eyes from both you and dean. it was funny, and a thing you were used to—seeing dean show you off and claim you so proudly in front of others. you enjoyed it, how touchy and jealous your boyfriend was.

it continued with playful little pinches to your ass throughout the day and his arm lazily slung over your shoulders during lunch in the little run-down diner you'd found, still eagerly showing you off as his to anyone that looked your way. dean had obviously just been excited to work the case alone with you for the day after dropping off sam at the local library to research the town’s history.

after the three of you had gone back ‘n forth and figured out what had been killing the townsfolk—a very pissed-off vengeful spirit—you and dean jumped into the impala, ready to pick up sam and dust the evil son of a bitch. the actual hunt itself had been quite simple, burning the bones of the spirit in an old-timey cemetery. quick and easy.

dean eventually pulled the impala up just outside of the motel room. you, sam and dean all tiredly stumbled out into the crisp night air with satisfied smiles on your faces, glad to have put that case behind you and protected the town from letting anyone else get hurt.

as you began to make your way back to the room, dean’s hands wrapped around your waist. you let out a soft squeal as he picked you up, carrying you bridal style in his arms.

“gotcha,” he teased with a smirk. you could feel his strength and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. you felt safe in his arms. he felt like home.

sam looked at you both and instantly recognised the look on dean’s face. he sighed and made some excuse to leave, mentioning something about getting his own room for the night so he “could actually get some sleep.”

sam walked off, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the adrenaline continued to simmer through your veins. dean’s grip on you was firm and secure, but also gentle—like you were some fragile little thing he was holding—as he carried you through the parking lot.

as you got inside the motel room, dean pinned you up against the back of the door. he pressed his body against yours and looked at you with a keen grin, “you’re so beautiful, baby. so strong and smart.”

a warm smile spread across your face as dean gently cupped your cheek. you could see the love in his expression; you could feel it in his gaze.

you almost instinctively leaned into his touch and looked into his sparkling green eyes. “so are you, dean,” you replied, your voice low and soft with a hint of amusement in your tone. you could feel the tension between you both, the high from the hunt still coursing through your bodies.

you swore you could almost see dean blush at your words. he let his hand trace down your cheek to your jaw, grasping it gently. he tilted your head to meet his intense gaze. dean took a few silent moments to just look at you, letting his eyes drift over your features as the grin softened on his lips. it was times like this when dean could hardly believe you were his.

he kept ahold of your jaw; his grip was possessive, but there was an undeniable tenderness behind it. he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, so many unspoken words moving between the two of you. the world around you faded away as his lips moved with yours, igniting those sparks that helped light that familiar warmth in your lower stomach.

your lips moved in time together, your tongues tangling and dancing in your mouth. you let out a soft moan, and you felt dean’s lips curve into a smile against your own. his hand dropped down to your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around it—not tight enough to hurt you, but firm enough to feel your pulse beating below his fingertips.

dean broke the kiss and looked at you once again. his gaze was loving, but you could see the need in his blown-out pupils. you leaned your head back as you panted, almost subconsciously submitting to him and his touch.

“can i make you feel good?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, “need to make you feel good.”

you swallowed softly, your throat bobbing under his hand. “please,” you breathed out with a slow nod, “need you to make me feel good.”

dean’s smile grew, reflecting the soft grin on your own face. wordlessly, dean grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up around him. he pressed gentle kisses along your jawline as he walked you over to the bed, his arms wrapped around you, caging you against his torso.

he laid you down underneath him on the mattress. you looked up at him with big soft eyes, taking in how handsome he looked, despite the obvious exhaustion tugging at his features. he pulled off his flannel and shirt in two quick movements before settling in between your legs.

“been thinking about having you like this since we killed that fucking ghost,” dean muttered as his lips found their way back to your neck.

you let out a huff of amusement and lifted your hand to play with the hair at his nape, “mmm, me too.”

dean’s mouth moved down your jaw, sucking on the soft skin at your pulse points along your neck. you moaned quietly, letting your eyes fall shut. dean hummed against your neck, leaving light pink marks wherever he could.

dean finally pulled away and admired his work on your delicate skin. you looked so beautiful; your hair all messy, your lips still swollen, and now your neck all marked up with little bruises. dean groaned to himself, feeling so incredibly lucky that the beautiful creature below him was his.

his hands found the hem of your shirt. “off. now.” he said firmly, but with a hint of desperation to his voice.

you sat up as dean moved back to give you some room. he helped you peel off your shirt, slowly exposing more of your skin to him. his smile grew once again as he looked at you. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he commented again as his hands unhooked your bra and pulled it off you.

you couldn’t help the blush that warmed your cheeks as your bra hit the floor beside the bed. dean immediately attached his mouth to your tits, kissing and biting at them, leaving more little marks in his wake.

soft moans and sighs left your lips, your hands once again playing in his short sandy hair. you tugged on it gently, and dean groaned. he looked up at you with a smirk on his lips, “what are you doin’, huh? pulling my hair?”

he grabbed your wrists and held them down against the mattress as his tongue flicked over your nipples. “relax, baby,” he muttered against your skin.

you let out little gasps as he nibbled at you. you didn’t struggle against his grip; instead, you relaxed underneath him and let him carry on kissing and marking up your chest.

his hands held your wrists down firmly against the sheets as he kissed further down your body, groans leaving his lips in response to your soft little noises.

dean kissed and bit his way to the button of your jeans. he glanced up at you, silently asking for permission. you nodded slowly, your eyes on his, and he let go of your wrists, his hands moving to undo your jeans. you kept your wrists by your sides, just watching him with a small smile.

dean pulled your jeans down your legs, leaving you in just your panties. he groaned dramatically and looked back up at you, “fuuuck, i’m so lucky.”

you chuckled softly and shifted your head on the pillow as you looked at him. “i’m so lucky,” you retorted.

he smiled sheepishly and shook his head in response as his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off your body. instinctively, you clamped your legs together. dean smirked and shook his head again, “no, baby. don’t do that. don’t be shy. i know you’re not shy.”

your cheeks blushed at his words, and you smiled as he gently coaxed your thighs apart with his hands.

“keep them open for me,” he said firmly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. his eyes were dark, and you could feel the desire radiating off of him in waves. you nodded without a word and let your legs fall open for him.

he groaned when he looked down at the sight of your glistening cunt, “oh, god…”

dean shuffled back into a more comfortable position between your legs, his lips kissing at the skin of your thighs. he nipped at you gently, once again peppering more little marks across your skin.

he moved closer to your core and finally dove in, flicking his tongue against your slick heat, earning a whimpery gasp from you. his eyes shot up to meet yours as his tongue lapped at your clit, kissing, biting and sucking at it. dean couldn’t help the little groans that escaped him as he watched your face begin to flush and scrunch in pleasure.

your hips rolled into his face as he sped up his ministrations between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your swollen bud faster. the moans and gentle little sighs that left your mouth sounded like heaven to dean. he wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you down as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“keep still, sweetheart,” he muttered against your heat, holding down your hips while they flailed around erratically from the building pleasure.

a pathetic whine left your mouth at his muttered words. you tried to move your hips and thighs, desperately searching for your release. dean moaned in response to your neediness and kept lapping at your pussy, wanting to push you over the edge.

you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. you were so close to just cumming on his tongue. your back arched up off the bed and filthy moans were ripped from your lungs as dean slid two fingers into your cunt, curling them up and pressing them against that spongey little spot that made you see stars.

“d-dean!” you whined and threw your head back against the pillow, “fuck, so close…”

dean hummed against your clit, the vibrations tightening that tense feeling in your stomach. your hips kept trying to move, searching for more, needing more.

“be still,” dean murmured against your cunt, his fingers curling faster into you. he moved his free hand from around your thigh to your stomach, draping it over your hips to hold you down firmer.

you whined again and clenched around his fingers, “dean… fuck!”

your walls fluttered around his fingers as your release grew closer and closer, the coil in your stomach tightening as his mouth continued its assault on your pussy.

dean moaned against your delicate folds at the way you let your body flail around so desperately for him. he kept his arm draped over you, holding you down as your hips battled against his strength. he lapped at your pussy more intentionally, his tongue circling your clit roughly and expertly.

loud moans flew past your lips as your release washed over you. your pussy clamped down around dean's fingers, gushing over them as he kept up his curling motion, pushing you through your orgasm. his tongue stayed latched to your pussy, practically sucking out the moans and whimpers from your lungs.

as your thighs shook and your hips twitched, dean slowly removed his fingers and sat up onto his knees with a wide grin. “you're so needy tonight, sweetheart. s’making me go crazy seeing you like this,” he hummed, bringing his hand covered in your slick to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. you clamped your legs together at the sight, feeling the desire rapidly burn through your body as your heart thumped against your ribcage.

dean smirked, chuckling as he leaned over you, trapping you against the mattress. “gonna take you and give you what you need, my pretty girl. gonna make you feel so good,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, but with that hint of cockiness, like he knew he was going to blow your mind.

you panted, still coming down from your climax, as you nodded at his words and watched him begin to pull off his belt. his hands made quick work with his pants, discarding them on the floor with your clothes. you smiled a little lazily, admiring him in the low lighting of the motel room.

“what’s that look for, huh?” he questioned with that everlasting smirk on his face. he kept his eyes on you as he pulled down his boxers, letting his pretty pink erection spring free and bounce against his stomach.

you had to physically hold back a moan at the sight. you hummed instead and found his darkened green eyes. “nothing... just need you,” you muttered softly.

dean chuckled lowly to himself and returned to his position above you. “yeah, you need me?” he asked, tilting his head, his lips just inches above yours. he watched your flustered state with an amused expression on his face, feeling his cock throb at the way he could make you crumble so easily beneath him. he needed you so badly. he needed you desperately in this flushed needy little state.

you nodded in response to his question, and his lips found your neck again, this time kissing a little softer as he muttered against your skin between kisses, “my baby needs me, huh? gotta make her feel good then.”

he rubbed his cock against the inside of your thigh, just teasing you. you shifted your hips, your body moving on its own, searching for relief for your aching core.

you groaned softly, “dean, please… c’mon.”

dean grinned at your plea, his cock rubbing against your throbbing slit. he grabbed himself, teasingly brushing his pink tip against your clit. pathetic mewls spilled out of your mouth and you glared weakly at him, “dean!”

his sparkling green eyes found yours as he teased you with his cock, tapping your clit one last time. “alright,” dean muttered and prodded your entrance with his tip. he kept his eyes on your face as he slowly pushed himself inside you, inch by inch, your soaking pussy lubricating his stiff cock and welcoming him in.

your wet heat greedily sucked him in, your tight walls fluttering around his length. you gasped and arched your back, feeling him stretch you out slowly.

“that’s it,” he cooed, “take it. just like that.”

as dean bottomed out inside your needy cunt, his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them above your head, a wicked grin dancing on his face as he hovered above you.

you looked up at him with a pout, your hips moving a little, dying for him to do something. you tested his grip on your wrists. “uh uh uh,” dean tutted, his grip tightening, “we’re gonna do this my way, alright? be good, baby.”

despite your pout, you nodded and watched as he pulled his hips back. he slid back into your pussy, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds as he slowly built a pace, his bulbous pink tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. little slurred moans escaped you as you felt every little vein of his brush against your walls.

“yeah, that's it. so fucking warm and wet. just for me, huh?” dean groaned out with a grin, enjoying how you were already falling apart for him. he watched your jaw drop in pleasure from his quick pace, his hand subconsciously tightening around your wrists.

you nodded pathetically in response as he stretched you out with his thick length. “mmm, only for you,” you replied.

dean let out a rough moan at your words, a warm fuzzy feeling clenching at his chest. god, how he loved you.

he moved faster and deeper into you, and his breath began to become slightly more laboured. “so good. you’re being so good for me...” he grunted out between thrusts.

you felt your walls flutter once again at his praise as your second orgasm built, the familiar heat pooling in your core. you rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to pound deeper into your desperate cunt.

“ahh, shit,” he moaned out, feeling you rut against him.

dean let go of your wrists, instead grabbing your hips and pulling them up, arching your back up off the bed. you mewled loudly at the new angle, at the delectable way you could feel him even deeper inside you.

his cock began to brush roughly against your gspot, forcing your walls to flutter around him. dean kept up with his quick thrusts, feeling himself begin to lose composure as his balls tightened at the feeling of your slick heat around him.

“oh, fuck,” he grunted, rocking your hips up to meet his, keeping your back arched up off the bed, “gonna paint your pussy white with my children, baby. swear to god.”

you could barely register what was going on. you looked up at dean’s flushed face with blurred vision from the tears brimming in your eyes. you mewled at the way he bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans that were threatening to spill out.

dean’s ruts into your cunt became quicker and sloppier as both of you veered on the edge of your orgasms. his tight grip on your hips was sure to leave bruises, though you didn’t care; the pleasure in itself was enough to let him bruise you all over. dean tugged your lower half even further up into his lap, his cock burying even deeper in your walls.

“ahhh, shi— shit! i’m cumming,” he sputtered out. a strangled moan bubbled up dean’s throat as he finally spilled into your soaked heat, his warm ropes of cum stuffing your weeping pussy.

dean’s release set off your own. you jerked your hips back and forth as he kept thrusting into you, pushing his seed further into your tight hole. you whimpered and whined your way through your high, gushing around his length.

dean’s green eyes watched in sheer reverence as your face scrunched up and your body flailed about in his grip.

“fuck… fuuuck, baby,” he panted, his thrusts finally coming to a still, his mouth agape as his chest rose and fell.

the salty little tears in your eyes finally escaped as you came down from your climax, dampening your flushed cheeks. you panted as you returned his gaze.

“oh, shit, sweetheart. you alright?” dean asked quietly, gently lowering you back down onto the mattress. he slipped out of your core with a quiet hiss, and you felt his seed begin to drip out of you.

“m’alright,” you managed to reply in return. you brought a hand to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks.

dean shook his head and pulled your hands away, instead wiping your tears with his own hands. “you sure? that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you breathed out, letting his tender touch drift over your face, “that was perfect, dean.”

he nodded at your words and sat back on his knees, letting his eyes fall over your worn out body. “it was, baby. you’re perfect,” he murmured and rubbed at your thighs. he let his gaze fall down to your heat, watching the pearly white liquid escape your wet folds.

“jesus, you really are perfect,” dean repeated. he squeezed the fat of your thighs, and his eyes flickered back up to yours, searching them. his face softened as he silently took in how beautiful you looked.

dean slowly leaned over you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw and neck, tasting the salty flavour of your sweat on his tongue—not minding the taste at all.

“let me look after you,” he murmured almost pleadingly against your neck, “let me run you a bath, sweetheart.”

you hummed and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. “mm’kay,” you nodded, “a bath with you and then we get takeout and eat in here?”

dean huffed a laugh against your neck, “baby, you read my mind. bath and then pizza in bed, how does that sound?”

“perfect.”

“mm, perfect,” he echoed back, “alright, let me get you up.”

dean pressed one final kiss below your ear and pulled back, smiling down at you. he looked so incredibly in love, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

you returned the smile, and dean hopped off the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before scooping your boneless body up into his arms. your warm sticky skin stuck together as he walked into the bathroom, pressing soft tender kisses to the side of your head.

“i love you so much, y’know?” he mumbled into your hair as he kicked the bathroom door shut with his foot.

“yeah, ‘course i know. i love you too, dean.”

fig yaps: okay so this took ages to write,, it lived in my drafts for like three months cause i never write longer things (blame the adhd!!!) and i feel like it’s not even that manhandle-y LMAODKSJK anyways i love dean that’s all !!

reblogs and feedback are welcome and encouraged! thank uuu <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @whisperingdaze @dulcescorderitas @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

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[auckie]

Remembering dream I had where I met two trans guy artists living in a cool city and they invited me over for like a month, and they were very like established and had my dream jobs (one was a mechanic the other was a park ranger working at a center for like environmental shit so they could advanced in their career beyond just patrolling a park like two hours outside the city). they invited me into their polycule and I was really hesitant bc I���ve never really wanted to be poly but I was so enamored by the opportunities that I accepted without much hesitation despite not knowing them like, at all. And both were workaholics so I never saw them and just lived at their apartment and for while it was great bc I could focus on writing and had a part time job at a diner, but then they kept bringing home the most random fucking people to join the polycule. Like a 69 year old, very beautiful but jaded opera singer, a disgraced CFO for an Enron like company, some beatnik wannabe who worked at a gas station, a mother of three who clearly had no interest in any of us, literally like just people on the street, and every time they did a new room generated within the ever growing apartment that was themed around that person. So some of them were really cool and beautiful like Memphis 80s minimalist styled, some were straight out of an arts and crafts Californian home, there were some that were kinda gross and packed with shit and smelled weird, and I kept exploring all of them getting progressively more and more lost and panicking bc I was gonna be late for work, until I finally found what I instinctively knew was called ‘the pound room’ where they kept an incomprehensible amount of Oscar Meyer baloney packages and like PAGES upon pages of the exact same two ocs in *barely* different positions, going at it like animals, almost as if each drawing were meant to be a painstakingly hand drawn frame of an animation. And when I found this room and was going through the drawings, the dream suddenly felt like that scene where Wendy finds Jack’s ‘all work and no play’ pages on the typewriter. And I got goosebumps and suddenly smelled all the baloney, bc it wasn’t refrigerated, and turned around to see that someone was in the doorway. It was the two original trans dudes who had fused into one larger trans guy who looked like a combo of both of them, and the second I recognized that he slammed the door shut and locked it, and I knew I was trapped and gonna die there.

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Badboy!Miguel O’Hara x Goodgirl!Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff, Nervous Miguel, Penetrative Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Jerking Off, Praise

Summary: Milkshakes and shaking cars

A/N: It has been long awaited… Part 2!!

Word Count: 3K (Barely Edited)

Part 1

Shit, maybe he fucked up. 

His heart is practically racing as he pulls into your driveway, your pretty little smile turning towards him promising to only take a minute. He throws a weak smirk your way, watching the sway of your skirt as you run up the drive and through the front door. The second it closes, his smile drops and he’s tearing up his car. The stickiness in his boxers is starting to be uncomfortable, and he pops open the glove department, rummaging around until he finds old paper napkins. He looks up and around, checking all his blind spots, before wincing and pushing his legs up, hurriedly unzipping his pants and stuffing the napkins past the waistband of his boxers. They come back with random dark patches from the crinkled rush, and he cringes as he looks around his front seat. Fuck! He really doesn’t think things through! 

His head is on a swivel as he tries to find a place to put the soiled napkins, eventually popping open the coin holder on the left side of the steering wheel and shoving them in there. It takes a few slams and rapid stuffing to get it to close, and Miguel lets out a deep sigh as he readjusts himself in his seat. His eyes turn to the rearview mirror, his hand rapidly coming up to face it towards him as best as he can. His red eyes stare back at him, and he leans further back, turning his head either way to get a look at his hair. He curses when he sees its disheveled state. He looks like a fucking clown. Fuck him and his need to defend a pretty girl’s honor and then fuck her stupid after. He runs both his hands through his hair, ruffling it up and then smoothing it down again into its perfectly styled look. 

Movement in his peripheral makes him look past his rearview mirror, his eyes focusing on the good little thing walking down her front door steps and towards his car. He can’t help himself when he lets out a low groan, shifting in his seat as he takes in an eyeful. She’s going to be the death of him, with her innocent little smile and her pretty little dress. All for him. God, what did he do to get so fucking lucky. When you make it to the hood of his car, you give him a bashful smile, eyes going to the ground as you round the car and get into the passenger seat. You fix the dress over yourself once you sit down, trying your best to look pretty and proper. His eyes fall to your legs, the sticky trail that was there before gone. While he’s slightly disappointed the mark he has on you is gone, he’s more than happy to do it again when the time is right. His eyes come back up to your face, your doe eyes blinking up at him. He can’t help the slow smile that comes across his face, his hand grabbing one of yours off your lap and bringing it up to his mouth. 

Your hand is warm as he presses his lips to your knuckle, the sweet scent of vanilla drifting into his senses. A fire lights your cheeks as you watch him, and Miguel smirks against your skin despite the fluttering in his stomach. He clears his throat as he leans back up, hands returning to the wheel as he begins pulling out of your driveway. Once he’s made it to the main road, one of his hands comes back to your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“How do you feel about milkshakes?”

___________

It’s not really busy. 

A cute, obviously family-owned place. It’s made to look retro, something he hopes you appreciate. It’s a decent diner, somewhere nice to hangout and get cheap food. A classic date spot. Maybe a bit too classic or unspecial. Maybe the wrong place to take someone like you. Maybe he fucked up. His hands tighten around the steering wheel, prepared to take you somewhere else when you squeal. His eyes cut to you, and his breath leaves him the moment he catches sight of your wide smile and glistening eyes. You’re rambling on about how cute the place looks, saying something about how happy you are that you chose a dress that is on theme with the small diner’s color scheme. He just can’t help it. Miguel leans over the center console and reaches out his hand to rest under your chin, your head turns away from the windshield and you let out the cutest squeak the second his lips press against yours. 

When he pulls away, he’s met with your dopey eyes. He smiles down at you, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip before he leans further away and pulls his keys from the ignition. You’re still giving him those pretty doe eyes when he opens his car door, throwing a lazy smile your way. You’re jolted out of your haze when he closes the door, blinking rapidly to clear the glaze covering your eyes. Your head turns rapidly at the sound of your door opening, finding Miguel holding the edge of the door with a single hand as he rests his other arm against the roof of the car. He’s bent down, smirking at you still. “You coming, princesa?”

That familiar blush still colors your cheeks and you nod shyly, watching as Miguel moves over to make room for your exit. You step out quickly, looking up at him once you’ve fully exited the car. Miguel smiles down at you, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before looking past you and closing the car door. His arm comes around the back of your neck, hanging on your shoulders and keeping you to his side. The smell of him surrounds you, causing you to go slightly dizzy. He always smells good, but mixed into his usual cologne is the smell of sex, making your cheeks darken and for you to face away from him. He catches the movement from the corner of his eye, chuckling as he squeezes you tighter against his side and placing a small kiss to the top of your head. He swears he could feel the exact moment your knees buckled before you get ahold of yourself.

Once you step inside the small place, the light ringing of a silver bell greets the two of you. The place smells strongly of coffee and ice cream, a pleasant combination. He can feel the way your head moves as you take in the interior, focusing on the vintage-like posters decorating the walls as he leads you towards a corner booth. He lets you slide in first, following right after you and practically smashing you against the wall and his side. His arm finds its place over the top of your seat again, resting comfortable over the even-leveled top of the booth seat. A waitress comes up soon after, an older woman in the classic waitress outfit. You give her a kind smile, and Miguel takes one of the menus she offers, giving it to you to browse over. With a promise to come back in a bit, the waitress leaves the two of you. 

Miguel just sits and stares, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as you look over the menu. It’s silent between the two of you, not that he minds. He likes studying your face as you contemplate what you want, watching as you bite your bottom lip or your fingers come to play with it. Every now and then you ask him his opinion on some of the things on the menu, causing Miguel to lean in and speak against your ear like he’s telling a secret. It’s obvious that you don’t really listen to what he’s telling you, he can see it on your face as it heats up and your eyes glaze over. He finds it cute, reminding him to go back to his usual teasing. Eventually, you decide to stick to a simple milkshake and a serving of fries and Miguel calls over the waitress to give her the two orders and the menu. 

It won’t take long for the order to come to the table, so Miguel entertains you through simple conversation. He comments on your dress, showering you in compliments that eventually has you burying your head into his side out of embarrassment. Miguel chuckles at your natural cuteness, his arm coming down from the top of the booth and wrapping around your shoulders so he can place a kiss to your head once again. By the time the blush on your cheeks has died down, the waitress comes back with two milkshakes and a basket of fries. She leaves the two of you with a smile, promising to be nearby if the two of you need anything. You’re obviously thankful for the cold treat, taking a sip of it in hopes of cooling you down more. Miguel smiles as he watches you, ignoring the way his cock stirs as your throat bobs with every quick swallow. Miguel clears his throat once again, turning to his own milkshake and taking sips from it. He starts up conversation again, something more tame that won’t make your cheeks heat up. He enjoys the small giggles you let out as he talks to you, laughing along when you can’t eat a fry in fear that you’ll choke on it from all your giggling. It’s nice and calm, almost distracts him entirely from the hard on he’s sporting because anything you do is insanely hot to him. But then, you’re cutting him off mid-sentence as you swipe your thumb over his bottom lip, a drop of his milkshake on your finger that disappears as you hesitantly look up at him and lick at it. Yup, the death of him. 

Miguel curses, looking away from you and fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. He pulls it out quickly, slapping two 20s on the table before getting out of the booth. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, yelping when he grabs your hand and drags you with him towards the door. You let out a stuttering protest that falls on deaf ears, the sound of the silver bell ringing behind you as the door closes. In seconds, Miguel brings the both of you to his car, pining you to the side of it as he smashes his lips against yours. His hands hold tight to your waist as yours clutch his shoulders. A small whimper leaves you as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and he groans the second your mouth opens. You taste sweet, like whipped cream and ice cream and a bit of salt. Fuck, isn’t it just addicting. Miguel pulls away from you once he starts going light-headed, his eyes still drawn to your lips as you take deep breaths. 

“Get in the backseat, please.” Miguel mumbles, his hands tightening at your waist. You blink, not quite hearing what he said. Miguel groans, resting his forehead against your own as he tries to tame his raging hormones. He repeats it, just loud enough for you to hear, sighing in relief when you nod your head slowly and he hears the slight click of the door handle. He follows after you, sitting in the center seat before pulling you into his lap. You let out another yelp, your legs spreading to fit on either side of his lap. The noise you make when his lips meet yours again is calmer, more expectant as your hands go to his hair. He moans against your lips as you tug slightly, pulling him closer to you and making him curse. When he pulls away, his face goes to your neck, his own hands going to your hair to pull your head back to give him more access. 

“Miguel!” You call out when he sucks slightly on the column of your throat, “D-did I do something? What-” You’re cut off by your own gasp as Miguel bites lightly at the junction between your shoulder and neck, soothing it over with a few licks. 

“Yes?”, he mumbles against your skin, his fingers moving the straps of your dress down your shoulders, leaving them hanging against your upper arm, allowing him more room to kiss your soft skin. “No?” He retraces his steps back up your neck, coming face to face with you again. “Does it matter?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off again by Miguel’s lips. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning against him. Miguel hisses when your body shifts, rubbing against the front of his jeans. He pulls away from the kiss, his hand cradling your head as he slowly begins to lean you back. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, letting him guide you until your back hits the center console. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but you quickly forget about it the second Miguel lifts up the bottom of your dress and starts kissing the exposed skin of your stomach. A soft noise leaves you as his slightly cold lips glide over your skin, causing you to squirm slightly. Miguel drinks up those sweet noises, his hand going to the zipper of his pants, dragging it down until he’s able to free his aching cock. His kisses go further down your body as he gives himself slow tugs, groaning the second his mouth is pressed against the growing damp spot in your panties. 

They’re a different pair from the ones you had on earlier, but just as easy to move to the side as he leans back. You whimper once you feel the air against your wet folds, cheeks blushing as you're exposed to him again. Your cunt is still puffy from what he has done to you earlier, but all signs of his seed are gone. He’ll just have to fix that. His eyes come up to you, studying the way you bite your lip in anticipation, eyes cloudy with need. “You’re going to be the death of me, y’know that, pretty girl?”

You reply with a moan, head leaning forward as Miguel begins to push into you. You’re already so fucking wet, walls eagerly tightening around him, welcoming him home. Miguel lets out a curse the second he bottoms out, a wet click sounding. Miguel’s hands come up to your waist, your dress bunching around his fingers as he begins to pull you back off and on his dick. He can get drunk on the wet noises that greet his ears the second he slides in and out of your slick walls. Only second to the pleading tone of your voice as you beg him to go faster. 

Miguel can’t deny his sweet little baby anything, moving his hips faster. You both moan out, breathy little squeals leaving your mouth as Miguel throws his head back against the seat. He can hear the car groaning slightly as it begins to shake, and Miguel grits his teeth when he feels your walls fluttering. “Fuck, that’s it. Good girl, taking it so well, yeah?”

You babble something back, nodding your head along to him as he thrusts into you. His hand comes down to your clit, watching the way you thrash and your legs kick out. Miguel can’t help but smirk, watching the way your legs shake at a few rubs. “Oh baby, don’t tell me you’re still sensitive, my sweet girl.”

You only whimper, back arching off the console as the similar burning sensation begins to form in your stomach. Your hips begin moving, grinding against his lap as he feeds your greedy cunt more of his cock. Miguel moans out, mouth dropping open as his lashes flutter. He presses harder against your bud, giving it a few rough flicks before you cry out and your body collapses back onto the console. He’s hypnotized as he watches you convulse around his cock, your walls pulsating rapidly against him. He fucks you through your orgasm, cursing as you milk him for all he’s worth. “Fuck, yes. So goddamn tight for me, baby. Got me addicted to you.”

You moan out his name, your hands grabbing at the seats on their side of your body. You try to pull yourself off of him, sensitivity prickling your bones. Miguel is quick to see it, his hands reaching up to pull your hands up and into him, forcing the rest of your body to come and fall against his chest. You cry out at the new angle, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Miguel grunts, hands returning to your waist and rubbing soothing circles through your dress. 

“Sh, sh, come back to me sweet girl,” Miguel coos at you as your walls clench around him again, signaling the approach of a second orgasm. You pant heavily, whimpering as you loll your head forward, resting it against Miguel’s. Miguel gives you a breathless smile, his hold tightening on your waist. “Good girl, there she is. Knew that you could do it.”

You whine at the praise, eyes fluttering closed slowly. Miguel tilts his head up, moaning the moment your lips instantly start moving with his. His hips thrust into you faster, drowning out your moans. Miguel’s brows furrow, ignoring the car’s loud squeaking. He’s so close, can fill it about to explode. He pulls his mouth away from yours, one of his hands coming up to pull your hair away from your face. Your eyes are glassy as you stare at him, lips swollen and covered in spit. You look like a fucking goddess. 

“Miguel, please.” Sound just like one, too

“Fuck, okay. Okay, I got you, just…fuck” Miguel groans out, jackhammering into you desperately. 

You squeal, arms coming to wrap around his neck before you pull him into a kiss. Miguel’s eyes shut tight as his thrusts get sloppy, whimpering against your lips as the rope inside his stomach snaps. You whine against his lips as warmth fills you, squirming in his lap even as he’s stopped thrusting. You both pull away, Miguel resting his head on your shoulder as he breathes deeply. He places a delicate kiss to your skin, his hand rubbing you back to help you calm down. Eventually you pull away, a shy smile on your face. Miguel smiles back at you, watching as you look around. “The windows are foggy.”

Miguel chuckles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. 

“Date me?”

@opalwitchart @peachey-pie @9rfa

[northstarscowboyhat]

i need you to do a deltarune yellow interpretation. I have seen NOONE do anyhting that would do it justice. PLEASE

Gosh, that's extremely high praise! A lot of this art is super old, but I might as well post what I had done for this concept! Lots of rambling below!

In this version/AU, Hometown is a very small impoverished farming community. Despite the recent struggles of losing many businesses to the larger human city nearby, it's still a close knit community of everyone knowing everyone! The Sunnysides own the biggest farm in the town and are very well known by all the residents - especially after Starlo, the eldest son of the Sunnysides, takes in Clover, a young human who wandered into the Sunnyside crops, disheveled and dirty with barely the clothes on their back. Aside from remembering their name, Clover claims to not remember anything else, such as where they came from or why they seemingly ran away from home.

Starlo takes Clover in, but Clover is a human in a town full of monsters that they've suddenly been thrusted into, without the history with one another everyone else has. Not only that, Clover's a bit of a troublemaker (at least in appearances), picking fights with bullies and struggling to connect to anyone. The only other monster they've connected with (aside from the Sunnysides) is Martlet, who is a college student in town. She started out as a babysitter looking for extra cash hired by Starlo, until she and Clover began a genuine friendship! They're besties and hang out all the time.

(Ignore that god awful Martlet design... I tried to make her resemble Berdly and oh god. Regret.)

Eventually, Clover stumbles upon the Dark World, and in it, a strange flower darkener who claims to be the prince of the Dark World. Very quickly, the Dark World becomes an escape for Clover. In the Light World, they're a weirdo outcast who has no friends their age. They feel like they only cause problems for everyone, especially Starlo, who has to work twice as hard in order to financially support them. But in the Dark World, they can be a hero, just like all the cool cowboys in their favorite Western films! All the Darkners love them and praise them as a hero, and Clover gets to rescue them from outlaws and save the day. The more time they spend in the Dark World, the less problems they're causing in the Light World, so it's a good thing, right? Flowey and his people need a hero!

(Basically, the Dark World would be a concept that's already established in universe in Chapter 1. This is sort of meant to parallel Starlo's North Star persona in UTY, because you guys know I love my Clover + Starlo parallels.).

(Bonus for all my fellow Starlo fans) Most of Starlo's time, when he isn't working at his family's farm, is spent doing part time jobs in order to raise Clover. He works part time at the local diner at the beginning of the story, leaving very little free time for himself or his interests. RIP bozo having to take responsibility (Orion and Starlo's dynamic would be flipped here, as Orion is the one with a lot more freedoms. He's a college student Martlet's age, and is very busy with his studies and extracurricular activities that he isn't home often, meanwhile Starlo is saddled with a ton of work).

The real story would begin when part of the Ketsukane family (freshly divorced, sorry) move back into Hometown after living away in the city. Chujin's ex wife Ceroba moves back into town with their daughter Kanako, who is the same age as Clover. The two... do not get along right away, which only irks Clover as Starlo is particularly close to Kanako. Kanako is instantly popular and well liked among their peers, and she might have some unchecked biases against humans she picked up from their father. Maybe journeying together in the Dark World would help them grow closer...?

(Again, please forgive this ugly old style. Was trying to go for a superhero theme for Kanako's Dark World design since she's a comic book fan.)

Some other things I didn't have art for

Dalv is the town's librarian! He's also on good terms with Clover, but he's also a bit of a reclusive and doesn't interact with people much.

Chujin was living in Hometown prior to Clover showing up, trying to bounce back from his divorce with his wife (it was on fairly good terms, but still, a massive life change). He claims to work remotely for an important company of some sort, but is secretive about the details. While he's well liked by the town, he's also very outspoken against humans.

Ceroba would also be recovering from the divorce, as she was a housewife her entire time with Chujin, and now needs to find herself as well as a career to support Kanako. She moves back into Hometown in hopes of reconnecting with her old friends and to give Kanako a much calmer school environment.

There have been an influx of missing children reports in the general area around Hometown. Strangely enough, they all seem to be young human children around Clover's age...

Also these guys in the Dark World..... Eh, I'm sure they're not important in the slightest.

[vintage-tigre]

[fieriframes]

[Uif votffo fofnz jt bmxbzt uif nptu gfbstpnf.]

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Here, Then Gone, Then Here Again - Clark Kent X Female Reader

Title: Here, Then Gone, Then Here Again

Clark Kent X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Mary (OC)

WC: 3,551

Warnings: Can be read as any iteration of Clark/Superman, italics, nicknames, flirting, teasing, banter, crying mentioned, breakups mentioned very briefly, slight angst, and fluff

The warm, red glow of the diner’s neon sign flickered against the rain-slicked pavement as Clark held the door open, his free hand resting against the small of your back. The moment you stepped inside, you let out a quiet sigh, trying to shake off the lingering chill from the light drizzle outside. Clark, ever attentive, guided you toward the back booth - your usual spot. He helped you slide into the seat before settling in across from you, his gentle smile making it easy to forget the world beyond the rain-streaked windows.

This was nice. The two of you hadn’t had time for a date in nearly two months, caught up in the chaos of deadlines at The Daily Planet and Clark’s never-ending duties as Superman. Between late-night articles and last-minute heroics, carving out time just for each other had become nearly impossible. But tonight, you hoped - really hoped - that this would be the one date where he didn’t have to rush off to stop burglars or thwart some sudden disaster.

It almost felt like the universe was conspiring against you, always pulling him away just when you finally had him all to yourself. From the interrupted date at the local aquarium, where he’d barely made it past the jellyfish exhibit before an emergency called him away, to the candlelit dinner at that fancy restaurant just a couple of blocks from your apartment that had ended with him apologizing as he rushed out before dessert. Even the simple picnic in the park had been cut short when trouble struck, leaving you alone on a blanket with nothing but half-eaten sandwiches and the distant sound of sirens.

And yeah, it upset you, but you understood. You always did. Because you loved Clark - so much so that, at the end of the day, just being a part of his life was enough. No matter how many times he had to leave, he always came back, and that was what truly mattered.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, the waitress came over, a sweet little old lady whose hair was styled like it was still the 80s - something you secretly adored. She wore the diner’s classic 50s-themed uniform, the crisp blue dress and white apron a perfect match for the retro red leather booths and black-and-white checkered floors.

With a warm smile, she glanced between the two of you before giving a knowing tilt of her head. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest sweethearts,” She mused, pulling out her notepad. “What can I start you off with?”

Her words made you smile, a soft warmth spreading through your chest. There was something about her - maybe the way she carried herself, or the gentle kindness in her eyes - that reminded you of your grandmother. 

“I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries,” You said, still smiling as you glanced at the name on her tag - Mary. “Oh, and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

Mary gave you an approving nod before turning her attention to Clark. “And for you, sweetheart?”

Clark shot you a small, amused smile before saying, “I’ll have the same, but with a vanilla milkshake.”

Mary jotted it down with a satisfied hum. “Great choice, you two. I’ll be back with your food in a hot second.” She tucked her notepad away and gave you both another warm smile before heading off to put in your order.

You let out a soft sigh, settling deeper into the booth before your gaze drifted back to Clark. Almost immediately, your eyes locked onto his hair, the way his dark curls had become even more unruly from the rain. You bit your lip, trying, and failing, to muffle an amused, adoring sound.

Clark’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting slightly as he caught the look on your face. “What?” He asked, confusion laced in his voice. His hand instinctively came up to wipe at his cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “No,” You assured him, amusement still evident in your tone. Reaching across the small diner table, you brushed your fingers through his hair, fluffing up his curls with a gentle touch. They were still slightly damp from the rain, even softer than usual. Your fingers combed through the strands, feeling the way they bounced back into place like they had a mind of their own. “The rain made your curls even curlier,” You mused, your voice full of quiet affection. Your fingertips lingered, gently twisting a curl around your finger before letting it spring back into place. “They’re extra fluffy today.”

Clark huffed a laugh, pink dusting his cheeks. “That so?”

You nodded, still playing with a particularly stubborn curl near his temple. “Mhm. You look adorable.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if in defeat. “I was going for ruggedly handsome, but I guess I’ll take adorable.”

You grinned, sitting back in your seat. “You can be both.” Propping your elbow on the table, you rested your cheek against your hand, gazing at Clark with a playful, soft teasing glint in your eyes. “Actually, now that I think about it, you’re not just adorable,” You mused, your lips curving into a smirk. “You’re also dashing. Beautiful. Pretty, even.”

Clark scoffed lightly, shaking his head, but you could see the way his ears tinged pink.

“Devastatingly gorgeous,” You added, dragging out the words as if savoring them. “Truly, a masterpiece of a man.”

Clark let out a breathy chuckle, but before you could lovingly tease him any further, he reached across the table, his warm hand covering yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, as he met your gaze with something softer - something deeper.

“And you,” He murmured, his voice low and earnest, “Are the most incredible person I’ve ever known. Beautiful, inside and out. The kind of person I can’t believe I get to love.”

Your breath hitched, warmth blooming in your chest as your fingers instinctively curled around his. You tried to play it cool, you really did. But the way he looked at you made it impossible. Heat crept up your neck, and you ducked your head slightly, biting back a smile as you gently squeezed his hand.

“You can’t just say things like that, you know,” You muttered as Clark’s grin widened, clearly enjoying how easily he could make you flustered

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, though the soft laugh that escaped. Before you could think of a response, Mary returned, balancing a tray in her hands.

“Alright, sweethearts, here you go,” She announced cheerfully as she set down your plates and milkshakes. “One cheeseburger and fries for the lady, one for the gentleman. Chocolate and vanilla milkshakes. Enjoy, lovebirds.”

You shot her a grateful smile, but as soon as she walked away, your eyes flicked back to Clark, your hand still resting in his.

You gave his hand another gentle squeeze before grinning. “I don’t know about you, but these fries look delicious.”

With a final brush of your fingers against his, you let go, reaching for your food as Clark did the same. The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a bit, the sounds of the diner filling the space between you - clinking silverware, quiet chatter, the low hum of the jukebox playing ‘Little Richard’ in the corner.

After a few bites, you casually reached over and plucked one of Clark’s fries from his plate. He raised an amused brow as you dipped it straight into your chocolate milkshake, humming in satisfaction before popping it into your mouth. “You know, you have your own fries,” He pointed out, though there was no real protest in his tone.

You grinned, already reaching for another. “Yeah, but yours taste better.”

Clark just shook his head with a fond smile, letting you grab at his fries. Right at that moment, the rain outside finally began to let up. The steady pitter-patter against the diner windows softened until it was nothing more than a few lingering drops. Then, as if the universe itself decided to grant you a small, golden moment, the clouds parted just enough for the sun to peek through. Warm light spilled in through the window beside you, casting a soft glow over the both of you, illuminating your features in a way that made Clark pause mid-bite, watching you with a quiet, almost awestruck expression. The sunlight danced across your skin, and he let out an inaudible sigh. You weren’t even doing anything special - just sitting there, eating, existing - and yet, to Clark, you were breathtaking. Lost in the simple beauty of the moment, he barely noticed that his gaze had lingered a little too long. That is, until you caught him.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, brow raising slightly as you reached for a napkin, dabbing at the corners of your mouth just in case. “What?” You asked, glancing at him curiously.

Clark blinked, as if he’d been pulled from a dream, and shook his head with a soft, almost shy smile. “Nothing.” His gaze lingered a second longer before he returned to his food, but the warmth in his expression told you it wasn’t really nothing.

Shaking your head with a small, amused sigh, you popped the last fry into your mouth before turning your attention to the small dessert menu propped up beside you. Browsing through it, you tapped your finger against the laminated page, considering your options. You hummed softly, scanning the menu. “The raspberry cheesecake looks good… Or maybe a slice of apple pie.”

Clark leaned back slightly, giving you an easy smile. “Get whatever you want,” He said, nodding toward the menu. “I think I’m gonna go with the pie.”

You hummed again, nodding to yourself. “Alright, I’ll try the cheesecake then.” Your fingers drummed lightly against the table before you glanced up at him. “Should we get it for here or to go?”

Clark opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, he froze. His jaw tensed, eyes immediately shifting toward the window as if he’d just heard something beyond your range. Your smile faltered. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Clark turned back to you, guilt flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything - you already knew.

Still, you gave him a soft, understanding smile and nodded. “Go on,” You murmured, voice gentle but certain. “They need you.”

His expression was a mix of determination, disappointment, guilt, and something else - before he let out a quiet sigh and pushed himself up from the booth. Before leaving, Clark quickly pulled out his card, setting it on the table for you. Then, without hesitation, he reached for you, his palm warm as it cupped the back of your neck. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his breath fanning against your skin as he muttered a soft, “Thank you.”

And just like that, he was gone, rushing out the door and disappearing into the world that always seemed to need him. You watched him go, your small smile slipping the second he was out of view. With a quiet sigh, you glanced down at the table, absently running your fingers over the edge of his abandoned card.

Mary returned moments later, and you quickly pulled yourself together, offering her a braver smile than you felt. “Could I get one slice of the raspberry cheesecake and one slice of apple pie?”

She jotted it down with a nod. “For here or to go, sweetheart?”

“To go,” You answered, your voice steady despite the weight settling in your chest.

~~~

It had been about two weeks since that diner date, and after a long day at the Daily Planet, you were finally at Clark’s apartment for the weekend. The moment you stepped inside, he was there, helping you out of your jacket and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door while you slipped off your shoes.

“Thanks,” You murmured, flashing him a small smile.

Clark returned it, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For the past few days, you’d noticed something off about him. He was usually a quiet guy, sure - thoughtful, sometimes lost in his own world - but this was different. It was like he was stuck in his head, distracted in a way that left you worried. There had been moments where you’d caught him staring off into space, so deep in thought that you had to call his name, sometimes more than once, to pull him back. And every time, he’d blink, shake his head, and insist he was fine. You didn’t want to pressure him, but the concern was there, gnawing at you.

You made your way to his room, eager to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. As you pulled open one of the drawers, you couldn’t help but pause for a second, realizing just how many clothes you had there now. Shirts, sweaters, even a pair of socks you didn’t remember leaving behind - it was subtle, but it made you smile. A quiet reminder of just how much time you spent here, how much of your life had seamlessly intertwined with his. And how his was intertwined with yours. Clark had a couple of items at your place, too.

Shaking the thought away, you grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and changed into them. Just as you were pulling off your work suit jacket, Clark walked into the room, already tugging off his tie, his fingers quickly working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Without thinking, he unbuttoned it the rest of the way and shrugged it off, tossing it onto the chair in the corner before heading to his closet.

After dressing, you made your way to his kitchen, pulling open the fridge, and grabbing the leftovers from the other night, popping them into the microwave. The low hum filled the quiet space just as Clark entered, reaching for a couple of glasses and filling them with water. Neither of you spoke as you carried your plates and drinks into the small living room. The quiet wasn’t exactly unusual - sometimes, after a long day, you both just enjoyed the silence - but this time, it felt different. He felt different.

You glanced at him as you took a sip of your drink. He was staring down at his plate, absentmindedly pushing food around with his fork before taking a bite. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then, without looking at you, he spoke.

“I think it might be best if we break up.”

You froze, lips parting slightly as your hands slowly lowered, placing your cup onto the small coffee table with a soft clink. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your brain struggling to process the words that had just left his mouth. 

Swallowing against the lump forming in your throat, you turned in your seat to fully face him, your heart pounding as you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the burning in your eyes at bay. “May I ask why?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a mere murmur. “Was it… Was it something I did? Or said?”

Clark’s head snapped up at that, his eyes wide with something that looked almost like panic. “No,” He said quickly, shaking his head with urgency. “No, it’s not you. It’s me.”

You tilted your head slightly, motioning for him to continue, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Clark let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair before setting his plate beside his glass on the table. He turned to you, lips parting as if to speak, but then hesitated, his brows furrowing. For a moment, it seemed like he was searching for the right words, struggling to string them together.

“I just…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’s not fair to you, my love.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’s not fair?”

Clark dragged a hand down his face before finally meeting your eyes. “The way I always have to leave,” He admitted, his voice tinged with frustration, though not at you. “No matter what we’re doing, no matter how much I just want to be with you, something always comes up. And you’re left waiting. Alone.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes dark with conflict. “You deserve someone who can always be there for you. Someone who doesn’t have to run off in the middle of dinner or disappear for hours without being able to tell you why.”

Your chest ached at his words, at the weight of the guilt he carried. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the flood of emotions rising in your chest. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffled closer to him.

"Clark..." You whispered, your voice shaky but soft. Reaching for his hand, you pulled it gently into yours, your fingers lacing through his. His hand was warm - always warm - and you ran your thumb over the back of it in slow, soothing strokes. "Clark, honey, I don’t want anyone else," You murmured, your words tender yet firm.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His eyes dropped onto the floor, avoiding yours.

You lifted your other hand, brushing your fingertips along his jaw before gently tilting his chin up, coaxing his gaze back to yours. "After you told me that you were Superman, I understood what I was getting into. I understood the weight of your responsibilities, the risks that came with the job. I knew you’d have to leave sometimes. I knew things wouldn’t always be easy." Your voice remained steady, but you felt the rawness of your own emotions pressing against your ribcage.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before they dropped again, but you didn’t let him retreat into himself. Instead, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing along his skin in soft, reassuring strokes.

"I understand what you have to do," You told him, unwavering. "I understood from day one, and I’ll understand years from now."

Clark exhaled shakily, his eyes searching yours as he slowly raised his hand, cupping yours where it rested against his cheek. His fingers curled around your hand, holding it in place as he turned his head just enough to press his lips against it. His eyes fluttered shut, and in the quietest murmur, he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

Your chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Shaking your head, you slipped impossibly closer, closing the remaining space between you.

"You deserve everything, Clark," You whispered, your voice steady, certain.

His lips lingered against your palm for a moment before he pulled away, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers curled around his, grounding him, holding him there with you.

"I know you have to go sometimes," You continued softly, your thumb brushing against the back of his hand. "But at the end of the day, you're always here for me. Even when you're not physically next to me, I still feel you - with me, loving me. And that’s more than enough, Clark. Just having you… That’s enough.”

Clark exhaled softly, his gaze searching yours before he leaned in, his warm palm cupping your cheek. Then, his lips met yours, soft, lingering, full of everything he couldn’t put into words. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with the words as you whispered it right back, your lips finding his in a soft, tender kiss. But just as the kiss deepened, Clark suddenly knocked you back onto the couch, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thud. A muffled, surprised giggle escaped you, a breathless laugh bubbling from your chest.

He pulled back just enough to give you a playful grin, pressing one more lingering kiss to your lips before he moved to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He settled himself on top of you, his curls tickling your skin.

You sighed, a soft contentment filling you as one hand rested on his back, the other slipping into his hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” You muttered, the words slipping from your lips with a slow, playful smile. You continued, teasing, “Even if my boyfriend likes to go off gallivanting in tights.

Clark huffed out a soft laugh against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Galavanting?” He murmured, his voice laced with amusement as he shifted slightly, his arms wrapping around you more securely. “That’s what we’re calling saving the world now?”

You grinned, fingers threading through his curls as you gently scratched at his scalp. “Mhm,” You teased, your voice light. “My very heroic, very dashing boyfriend gallivanting across the city in his bright red cape and blue tights.”

Clark let out a dramatic sigh, nuzzling closer. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope. Besides, I think you look amazing in that super suit.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a lazy kiss to your collarbone, his body completely relaxed against yours. “Good,” He murmured. “Because I don’t want you to go anywhere either.”

~~~

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[potato-lord-but-not]

what are your favourite ourthur head canons? sorry if this is formatted poorly, or if it's been asked before.

non exhaustive list of ourthur headcanons that I may or may not have already mentioned !!!!!!

• Noel and Arthur love to talk shit. they’ll be haters about anything and everything. They also get into debating really niche topics that neither Oscar nor John can understand.

• John has made it a point to be extra gentle with Oscar, not because he thinks Oscar’s fragile, but because he feels like he needs to prove he’s not destructive.

•Related point- He gets very self conscious around Oscar when it comes to him being more supernatural. He thinks (even after Oscar truly forgives him for his past actions) that Oscar will hate him for being otherworldly (he won’t).

• also the ourthur dynamic is like- qpr jarthur x holy ghosts. sure there’s some old feelings between Arthur and Oscar that rekindle, and John is Very infatuated with Noel (and vice versa but for different reasons), but jarthur and holy ghosts are definitely the strongest bonds.

• that being said- the weakest is probably kingsmen. Noel and Arthur are both arospec and not really romantically attracted to each other. they still care about each other tho, ofc, and they have a strong trauma bond to make up for it.

• John goes to church with Oscar on occasion. He likes the vibe, and people watching. He also likes hearing Oscar speak on the rare occasion he leads a church service.

• Oscar is probably out of the house the most, next to Noel. He does most of his detective work in the spare bedroom tho so he doesn’t leave t h a t much. Oscar’s constantly helping out at the church. John and Arthur are basically living there rent free. They help with Noel on occasion but fr those bitches Jobless.

• Noel is the resident hair dresser. He helps both Arthur and Oscar shave and styles their hair when needed. John doesn’t need to do anything to his hair because apparently he’s just perfect.

• Oscar’s good at describing things for Arthur when John’s not around. He’s a bit awkward about it at first, but can paint a really nice picture once he’s got the feel for it. Noel isn’t very descriptive in general, and doesn’t know what to really put the emphasis on. He’d describe the way a woman is stirring her tea at a diner, but forget to mention what she looks like.

I’m sure there’s more but I honestly just wanted to think about the men for a bit so. If I think of anything more I’ll add it lmao.

[alohajix]

꒰ masterlist ꒱

— a quiet collection of stories told in soft sighs, messy hearts, and lingering touches.

| “give me all of your love, give me something to dream about…”

stories spun from daydreams and midnight thoughts—organized below.

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Yep, I caved. Made a taglist. Wanna be spoiled with fresh filth (or fluff)? Say the magic words and I’ll add you like the VIP you are.

🔥= smut | ☁️ = fluff | 💔 = angst | 🎭 = drama

✧ SERIES

stories that stretch across time — unfolding slow like honey.

• When You’re Ready 🔥☁️💔🎭 (on hold)

“Healing isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it sounds like a little girl’s laughter, a quiet classroom, or a man learning to hope again.”

In the quiet town of Holmes Chapel, Amara—a gentle, nurturing kindergarten teacher—lives a life built on routine, safety, and quiet strength. She’s not looking for love, especially not after the scars left behind by someone she’d rather forget.

But when Harry Styles walks into her classroom carrying his three-year-old daughter and a heart still grieving the loss of the woman he loved, everything changes. Neither of them is ready. Neither of them is looking.

But sometimes, the people who change your life don’t knock first. They just… show up.

↳ Part One

↳ Part Two

↳ Part Three

✧ MINI–SERIES

a little more than just one chapter.

• No Strings… Right? 🔥☁️💔🎭 (ongoing)

It was supposed to be one night—just sex, no feelings, no consequences. But the second Harry touched me, I knew I was lying. He’s my brother’s best friend. Off-limits. Dangerous. But he fucks me like he owns me, whispers things I’m not supposed to hear, and looks at me like I’m already his.

We said no strings. But we’re tangled in every way that matters.

↳ Just This Once

↳ It’s Just Sex

↳ I Can’t Lose You

✧ ONE–SHOTS

single nights. stolen moments. stories that begin and end with a touch.

• Just Like That 🔥☁️ (Word: 4K)

When Emma meets Harry—a charming, British bartender—on a night out in New York City, their instant connection lingers long after the music fades. A few days later, one simple text turns into a date neither of them can forget. What starts with soft conversation and lingering looks quickly builds into something deeper, more electric… and maybe even real.

• First Time for Everything 🔥 (Word: 6.2K)

When Nora finds out her best friend Harry makes adult content, curiosity turns into something much more. One video leads to another, and soon they’re filming, posting, and falling into something hotter—and deeper—than either of them expected.

• Until I Break 🔥 (Word: 5.5K)

When Ember comes home from college, the last person she expects to fall for is her brother’s best friend. But one stolen kiss turns into something neither of them can walk away from.

• Room 1014 🔥(Word: 12K)

Freshly single and craving something reckless, Cassie meets a soft-spoken stranger in a hotel lobby. One look turns into one night—filthy words, slow touches, and a room she might never want to leave.

• The Casting Tape 🔥 (Word: 7K)

She said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself.

↳ Off the Record 🔥🎭 (Word: 5K)

A few days after her first casting, she gets a message. No name. No warning. Just an invitation to watch the tape back—with him. But this time, there’s no crew. No red light. No director calling the shots. Just the two of them, a couch, and everything they left unsaid.

• Late Shift Lust 🔥(Word: 6K)

Working the late shift at a nearly empty diner isn’t glamorous—but it pays the bills. Savannah’s used to the quiet, the tired regulars, and the occasional flirt. But when a tattooed stranger with a slow smile walks in after midnight, the tension builds fast and burns hot. One cup of bitter coffee turns into a filthy, unforgettable encounter behind the counter.

• You Were Made for Me 🔥💔🎭 (Word: 6K)

He took me. Locked me away in a beautiful room and said I was his. Not because I asked. But because he swears I was made for him. And the worst part? I think he’s right.

• Room With a View 🔥(Word: 11K)

A luxury hotel. A secret club. A glass wall and one-way invitation. I came to watch—until he looked right at me and walked into my room without asking. Now my hands are tied, my body’s on display, and he’s fucking me like everyone’s watching—because they are.

• The Interview 🔥(Word: 2.3K)

A late-night interview with Harry Styles turns into a game of control, filthy whispers, and desk-fucking in a locked studio where the mics are off—but the heat’s just getting started. (Words: 2.3K)

• Private Lessons 🔥(Word: 7K)

When I show up at his door with a college essay and a short skirt, I tell myself it’s just for feedback. But Mr. Styles isn’t my teacher anymore—and the moment his hands find my skin, it’s clear we’re both done pretending.

↳ Private Lessons [2] 🔥☁️ (Word: 8.9K)

Four days after their first night together, she shows up on Harry’s doorstep again—no excuse, no plan, just the memory of what he said and the weight of everything she’s still craving. But this time, he doesn’t hold back. He pushes her to the edge—ties her wrists, makes her beg, and shows her exactly what it means to be wanted too much.

✧ requests

written just for you — born from curious minds and quiet whispers.

• Say My Name 🔥(Word: 8K)

Based on this request. You’re new on the tour’s sound crew—professional, focused, and definitely not interested in falling for Harry Styles. But Harry? He takes one look at you and decides you’re his new favorite game. He calls you “new girl,” taunts you during sound check, and won’t learn your name… until you snap. And when the tension finally breaks? It’s filthy, rough, and everything you didn’t know you needed. Turns out, Harry’s mouth isn’t just good at running—it’s good at ruining you, too.

• Shhh… They’ll Hear Us 🔥(Word: 4.4K)

Based on this request. I wasn’t supposed to be here again. He wasn’t supposed to notice. But when Harry pulls me onto his tour bus after the show, things get filthy fast—and staying quiet is the one thing he can’t do.

• Sir, Yes Ma'am 🔥(Word: 5K)

Based on this request. He’s my bodyguard—tall, strong, and always in control. Until the door closes behind us. Then he kneels. He begs. And he takes everything I give him. He lives to be used, to be praised, to be ruined—just for me. And tonight, I don’t plan on going easy.

• The Note ☁️ (Word: 4.5K)

Based on this request. You used to write “Mrs. Y/N Styles” in pink gel pen, convinced you’d marry your celebrity crush one day. It was harmless, teenage daydreaming—until it wasn’t. Years later, standing across from Harry Styles on your wedding day, you find out he’s known about that childhood fantasy all along. And somehow, he saved a piece of it for this moment.

(requests: open — feel free to drop something in my ask box)

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“so glad you’re here. hope you find something you love.” 💕