#Imagine Superman

[bia-wayne-west]

Mornings and waffles – Clark Kent x Reader

Characters: Clark Kent [Superman], Jon Kent [Superboy], Conner Kent [Superboy] and fem! Reader [You]

Synopsis: You have been married to Clark Kent for 12 years, and you live in the farmhouse in Smallville. You have two children, Jon Kent and Conner Kent. On a sunny morning, her two children jump on the bed to order pancakes and good morning kisses. You couldn't have a more perfect family.

Warnings: Superboys being super cute. N/A: I thought about doing something similar to Batmom but Superman. I always imagined what it would be like to be the mother of two super boys. Hope you like it. I hope you like it and that you feel how cute Superboys are. I'm a Latina girl who doesn't speak fluent English, so I want to apologize for any writing errors you find. Feel free to correct me.

Requests are open waiting for you

MASTERLIST

The sun was shining on the farm.  The light came in through the window, but you didn't bother because you were hugging your husband's huge body.  Clark used to sleep completely clinging to you, so the sun didn't hurt him.

You were about to wake up, but you could have a few more good minutes for you and Superman in bed together.  Well, you planned to stay in bed until you decided to leave, but your children didn't want to contribute to your wish.

You felt two heavy bodies jumping on the bed, on top of you.  Your eyes snapped open, and you sighed wearily when you saw Jon's bright blue eyes staring back at you.  He and Conner were in bed, trying to wake their parents.

“Waffles!”  Jon yelled, jumping on you.

Jonathan was ten and Conner was eighteen, but they still liked to jump into their parents' bed on a Sunday morning to order coffee.  They could just ask Martha or wait for you to wake up, but it was more fun to jump on you.

“Jon it's still five in the morning, go to bed.” You grumbled, running your hand through your youngest son's hair.

“It's time for coffee, Mom.  And the father has to fix the barn again.”  This time it was Conner who spoke.  He was hunched over Clark's body, who kept his eyes closed, was awake, but still didn't open his eyes.

It was hard to get Clark to accept Conner.  At first, he treated the boy with utter contempt and it broke your heart.  There were hours of conversation, and he only accepted his eldest son after having a conversation with Bruce, which made your husband open his mind.

Conner suddenly came into your life, but you can't imagine a complete family without their pretty boy.  It took Clark a few years to accept the clone as a son and call him that, but when he called the boy son for the first time, your heart was full of love.

“And we want waffles.”  Jon said again, sitting up in bed.  He was in his pajamas with a dinosaur design on it and his hair was totally disheveled, and his face was crumpled up from sleep.

“Then let's make waffles.”  You said, giving up.  Their children uttered an exclamation of joy, making a high-five between them.  “There will be waffles for you too, Mr. Kent.”  You whispered in the ear of your husband, who now had his eyes open and smiling at Jon.

“Come on, Jon.  Whoever gets to the table first will get the most coffee.”  Superboy suggested, getting out of bed in the field.  Jon also got up, and the two ran to the kitchen, betting on a race.

You let out a weak moan, hugging your husband again.  He hugged you back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“Let's get up, we have to feed the two beasts.”  Clark joked, taking off the blanket so he could put his feet on the ground.

You smiled, repeating your husband's act and going to the bathroom.  Within minutes, you had washed your face, brushed your teeth, and changed your clothes.

You were already in the kitchen, putting the batter in the machine to turn it into a chocolate waffle.  Jon and Conner already had their mouths covered with so much chocolate, but they still wanted to repeat four more servings.

Martha, your mother-in-law, was helping you make coffee.  She was by his side, frying eggs and bacon.  She smiled at you, with that sweet face that only she had.

“They're very gluttonous.”

You both laughed, and smiled even more when you saw that Jonathan was frowning, probably because you heard his grandmother's comment.

“I only ate seven waffles and three pieces of bacon.  I didn't even eat that much.” He confessed, making a cute pout.

“Okay, so, since you're not eating much, that portion of bacon and eggs goes to your dad.”  You joked, putting the fresh food Martha had just prepared on your husband's plate, who thanked you with a kiss on the cheek.

Conner groaned.  After you and your mother-in-law finished cooking, the two of you joined them for a nice family breakfast.

You laughed at each other, talked about silly topics, and showed how much you loved each other.

“We have a perfect family.”  Clark confessed, running his hand gently over his arm.  “A completely loving and amazing family.” He concluded with a smile when he saw Martha lightly pat Conner's hand gently as he tried to grab one of his grandmother's bacon.

[theartofimagining13]

Imagine:

You and Kal-El were in a relationship and planning on getting married but along came his untimely death. Years went by before you finally felt like you had healed and eventually started a relationship with Steve Rogers. Kal came back to life and turned evil but you were all he remembered which created an instant and deadly rivalry between both superheroes. 

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[makismei]

❝ YOU A SUPERMAN? OR… A MINUTE MAN?

♡ fem!reader x various

featuring…. gojo satoru, nanami kento & fushiguro toji

cw: 18+, minors dni, squirting, overstim, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, anal play (nanami)

synopsis: who’s pounding till the sun rises and who’s clocking out after one round?!

notes from mei! tbh the title doesn’t really make sense… i listened to mcnasty(?) by jay park when it came out a while back and that lyric really resounded in my soul

GOJO ♡ a quick shot. but his dick stays hard. pretty superman-esque if you ask me.

“you idiot—fuuuck, stop moving your hips!” the sound of both of your cum sloshing together rings in your ears. you’re pushing at his tummy, quivering legs haphazardly thrown over his shoulders and tears bubbling in your lash line.

it feels so full inside of you. you’ve both been going at it for god knows how long; his release smeared on your lower tummy and inner thighs.

satoru moves your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours as he starts to press weight into each thrust.

“ahh, mmaahhh!” head shaking back and forth on the pillow, “‘m gonna cum! i can’t—satoru, m’ gonna die!”

he’s practically whining, ignoring your pleas with sweat beading down his temple as he plows you relentlessly. “baby, i can’t hold out.”

his head’s thrown back, feeling his dick twitch whenever he kisses your cervix just right, eyes rolling back into his skull.

“y’feel so good baby, why do you feel so good?” he pants, not realizing he’s filling you up with hot ropes of cum. he’s still thrusting and you swear if he keeps this up your bottom half is going to be numb.

still absolutely rock hard inside of you, he turns you on your side, one leg still on his shoulder while he grinds against that one spot that renders you speechless.

“let me have one more, baby.” he whines, legs shaking, “‘m still so hard f’you.”

NANAMI ♡ depends. he’s good at holding himself off, but he also enjoys stuffing you with multiple loads of his cum.

he’s groaning, eyes lidded as he watches you align his cock with your leaky slit. globs of his cum seep from your pussy, soiling his faintly coloured pubic hairs. someway, somehow, you managed to flip your previous positions and he’s the one laying on the mattress instead of you.

“my love,” he breathes, his large hand; callused from his work but still so gentle, caresses your hip, “i’m not going anywhere.”

it’s as if you’re in a rush, scrambling like he’s going to disappear.

you whine, legs quivering when his tip swipes against your entrance. “please, nami, i want you to cum again… it feels s’good.”

he smiles, his other hand reaching out to hold your face, thumb gently stroking against your cheek. “so needy today… have i been neglecting you?”

leaning down, you bury your face into his neck, grinding your soaked pussy onto his hardening cock. you hum shyly, distracting yourself by leaving wet kisses on his neck and shoulder.

he hums, your shyness making him all smug and sappy. “so that’s what it is, huh?”

you feel him harden, before he’s lifting you and dropping you down on his cock. you tense, squealing into his shoulder. languidly, he’s making you fuck down onto him, his own hips jolting up to meet you halfway.

sneakily, a hand makes it’s way down to your ass. he swats playfully before gathering slick at the point where you’re both connected. surprised, your eyes widen when you feel his finger start playing with your rim. it’s gentle, soft massaging as he’s jackhammering into you.

with your legs shaking, he doesn’t bother trying to move your hips, simply doing the work for you.

you’re gushing, liquid drooling from your pusey before you force yourself off of him, practically screaming as you squirt all over his lap. nanami groans, pulling you back down onto him to chase his release.

“oh my god—oh, fuuucckk!!” nails digging into his skin, your eyes roll back from the onslaught of pleasure. “‘s shoo gooood!”

he chuckles in your ear, but it gets cut off with a moan, flooding your cunt with his seed. kissing your tear-soaked cheeks, he smiles against your skin. “still feeling neglected, baby?”

TOJI ♡ one round and he’s hooonkkk mimimi… but he’s fucks nawwstyyy. like. he fucks you so good one round has you nearly passed out and quivering—drool and tears all over the pillow and your squirt leaving a niceee puddle right underneath you.

“that’s right, doll.” he whistles lowly, watching your legs tense, knees lifting themselves off the bed as he continues to bury his fingers into your cunt, his pupils practically dilating as he continuously prods against your sweet spot.

it’s wet and sticky between your legs, pussy glistening under the cheap glow of your bedside night light.

you’re damn near in a downward dog, face smushed into the mattress as your squirt soaks the bed. toji doesn’t let up, toying with your clit as he grins, cock twitching in his boxers.

when you slump face first into the bed, you’re practically drooling as you know what’s coming next. sturdy, thickset fingers knead the globes of your ass, before you feel his heavy cock sneaking it’s way into your slit.

“look at you,” he jeers, leaky tip pressing into your cunt. “being such a sweetheart after i made you squirt a few times.”

he buries himself to the hilt and you think you’re going cross-eyed. “yeah,” he croons, hips finding rhythm and bouncing on the fat of your ass, “you just wanna cum, ain’t that right?”

“yeesshh!” you cry. this position allows him too much control. you’re flat on your stomach, barely holding yourself up from your elbows. toji bares his weight on you, practically humping you and you know, he’s about to cum.

his tip kisses your g-spot repeatedly, scarred lips leaving wet kisses on your shoulder. “‘m gonna cum, baby,” he breathes, “you’ll take it, won’t’cha?”

you nod, eyes teary, “mmhm!”

you feel his lips against your skin, grinning. “cum with me baby, c’mon. you got it.”

as if his words have magic, he thrusts a couple more times before he feels you squeeze, and he’s a goner. groaning, he has a feeling you’re squirting again while he’s shooting rope after rope inside of you. he’s dizzy, practically blacking out after he pulls out, wiping you down with his shirt that he’s mistaken for a towel.

he slumps beside you, with his eyes closed, he slings a hefty arm over your waist. you adjust as he pulls you closer, lips brushing against your scapula.

he’s snoring before you know it.

panel is from i’ve become the target of his affection ^.^

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[sleepn0tfound]

Imagine Neglected!Super/Kent!Reader

We always see neglected batsis!reader but imagine neglected Super/Kent!reader.

Super/Kent!Reader who was born without any powers or any meta gene.

Super/Kent!Reader who doesn't get intentionally ignored by Clark and the family but he would always spend more time with Jon to train him and would always tell her next time.

Super/Kent!Reader who was the most welcoming towards Connor when he first came but as he got accepted by the others she slowly faded into the background as if she didn't exist, like she was a ghost in her own house.

Hacker!Reader who was actually born with different powers compared to the Supers but hid them.

Hacker!Reader who graduated MIT very early on and started to become an anonymous hacker that stole money from the corrupt rich and gave them to places in need, such as crime alley.

Hacker!Reader who toyed with the Justice League, none of them able to find out who she is. Occasionally, she hacks the Watchtower, making the screen glitch, and her signature mark appears; the star of Themis.

Hacker!Reader who even outsmarts Oracle in terms of hacking.

Hacker!Reader who provides Red Hood with all the information he needs.

Hacker!Reader who excels at making tech and frequently teams up with Red Hood and gives him very advanced and specialised tech that is unrivaled, much to Batman's displeasure since Red Hood won't tell him who the new vigilante is.

Hacker!Reader who only gives her tech out to one person, Red Hood. Which can be seen from her signature mark, a four-sided star surrounded by swirls of energy, nicknamed 'the star of Themis'

Hacker!Reader who nobody knows the identity of, except for one person.

Super/Kent!Reader who regularly hangs out with Jason. (Jason finally acquired his own Super)

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [9]

Danny doesn't remember much of what happened after his fight with Pariah. he knows the suit nearly killed him. 

He knew he passed out after and had to be carried back.

But considering the fact that the sky is blue and he's in his bedroom it was pretty safe to say that it was a classic case of a job well done and everything was back to normal.

The next day however, more and more oddities started happening. 

No longer did Amity Parkers get assaulted by GIW warnings when they accessed the internet. Instead they just got… nothing, nada, zilch.

Did the GIW go all in and just disconnect them from the rest of the world completely?

But then it became clear that that was the case with everything. stores weren't getting any shipments. 

phone calls would automatically say that numbers weren't in use. 

packages and mail weren't being picked up. 

Very worryingly, credit cards also stopped working and any attempt to contact the bank went utterly nowhere. 

people gradually are starting to get more and more worried.

Amity was very independent and self sufficient but this was a bit much.

At the very least now the city was more open to the doctor's Fenton energy solution of simply using Ecto to power everything.

The guys in white didn't show up in the city anymore either. 

The same went for the other out of town ghost hunters.

and after a quick check from Danny himself (as Phantom) he confirmed that the little not so very hidden base the guys in white had set up outside of the city borders was now simply gone.

Not only that but the roads going out of Amity also just suddenly stop.

At this point Team Phantom is starting to have a certain suspicion, and Sam asks Danny to find the nearest gas station and get them some newspapers.

Back home and now with a bunch of newspapers spread out over the floor with articles about Alien invasions in a place called Metropolis or the top floors of a skyscraper being blown up in a city called Gotham, they have enough to confirm their worries.

“Guys I think we got put back wrong”

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[tinythebunni]

thinking about overstimulating Clark Kent!

Clark had always been strict with his morals. he knew what was wrong and right and tried very hard not to stray from that path. he wouldn’t even kill a spider in his room, simply letting it out the window and onto a tree. i guess you could say he was a goody two shoes.

He’s been used to girls fawning over him but he never paid much attention. he feared what would happen if someone noticed his inhuman like abilities. or what if he got too excited kissing someone and he accidentally lasered their eyes out?

Clark kept to himself and never tried to date. it was as if he was uninterested in it entirely.

you took this as a challenge though. you met him at the daily planet, around end of March. you were a cute little thing, almost 5’11, his ideal height for a girlfriend. he loved the tall girls as he himself was almost 6’6.

dressed in pink and white skimpy outfits, heels that could break someone’s neck, and a glare comparable to his heat vision. everything about you made him nervous. he couldn’t figure out why you had this effect on him, but he knew he needed to stay away from you. before he broke his own rules.

you always said hai to him and batted your lashes in a way that would make his cheeks flush and his dick twitch is his oh so cute slacks!

he couldn’t seem to get away from the overwhelming smell of your vanilla cupcake perfume and the slight smell of arousal that came from you everytime he was around.

it was like you were his own personal nightmare.

it took around 3 month for him to crack, for him to finally say yes to your dates that always had an innuendo to them. he couldn’t tell though, he thought maybe if he went on a date with you that it would end his torment. but he was so wrong.

—————-

“wait, p-please slow down! fuck-i can’t take it!!“ he moaned out, forehead slick with sweat. you had Clark undressed , with only his tie and white socks on. he looked so cute and innocent like this.

you were riding him, your cunt gripping him like a vice. you could feel his balls hitting your ass as you bounced up and down, the feeling only spurring you on more.

his heels were digging into the mattress of the shitty motel room you dragged him to. with each movement of your hips he seemed to slide down further on the bed, but your feet kept him grounded there, making sure he didn’t fall.

“i can’t, bunny please! f-fuck needyouneedyou” he whimpered out through moans, his hands trying to lift you off of him. you moved your hand to rest on his neck, your perfectly manicured claws forcing him to lay back down. he didn’t notice the strange amount of strength you had, nor the way your eyes flashed white for a second. “stop trying to run from me clarkie! jus-oh god, take it like a good boy. i know you can.”

the smile you gave him seemed almost sinister, as you sped up and kept him down. he cried out, hopelessly trying to pry you off him and keep you close all at the same time. you leaned down and licked the sheen off his chest, taking your time over his pink raw nipples.

his tongue lolled out his mouth, eyes glazing over and body getting increasingly more and more warm. your hand reached down to grip his balls in grip almost painful to him, tugging and massaging as he writhed underneath you. moaning out pleas that fell on deaf ears, he came inside of you, plugging you up nice and full.

he thought you’d finally stop, he’d already came 3 times and he was sure he had nothing left in him, but you leaned down, muffling his moans that slowly turned into wails. “waitwait! i came, mmm pl-please i can’t! it hurts! gimme a break, jus 5 minutes!” the overstimulation had him turning dumb. mind fuzzy in ways that only he knew kryptonite could do. it was almost supernatural.

you pulled him up into a sitting position, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, you kept fucking him deeper and deeper inside of you, chasing your own release. your hands were surely leaving dents in his back with how sharp your nails were.

shaking and spasming, you looked at him with blown pupils and a wicked smile, staring him in the eyes before you bite into his neck as you came all over him.

he was scared, understandably, as no one usually was able to penetrate his skin, but that was taken over by the immense amount of pleasure he felt after the bite. the slight warmth as you let go and kept grinding yourself down on him, overstimulating yourself. he looked down at were you were connected and saw the creamy white ring around his cock, dripping down his balls. he finally came for the last time with a dying out moan as he blacked out.

————————

when he finally came to, he was back in his apartment, in a nice robe clean and perfectly manicured, as if last night never happened. the only indication that it did? the mark on his neck and the note you left for him.

“i enjoyed last night, ill see you at work superboy! oh, and make sure to cover up that bite, don’t want anyone asking questions do you?”

[iceiceicecold]

clark when it’s visit ur bf at work day

[bia-wayne-west]

Pregnancy — Barry Allen x Reader

Characters: Barry Allen (The Flash), Reader (You).

Synopsis: You have been married to Barry for two years. One fine day, you start to feel a hunger worthy of a little speedster.

Warnings: Pregnancy, seasickness, pregnancy discovery

N / A: I did this imagine in 10 minutes. I watched a pregnancy movie with my cousin, and then we went to watch The Flash, she suggested the idea to me and I loved it. Hope you like it.

I'm a Latina girl who doesn't speak fluent English, so I want to apologize for any writing errors you find. Feel free to correct me.

MASTERLIST

The day had begun. The sun came through the window, causing you to curl up even more in the duvets.

You ran your hand over the bed, feeling the sheet to feel Allen's warm body. There was only an empty space, indicating that he had been awake for some time.

Your mind tried to sleep again, however, a sweet smell flooded his nostrils. You could have sworn it smelled like pancakes and condensed milk.

The sheets were set aside as his feet touched the ground. With delicate steps, you made your way to the kitchen, being guided by the wonderful smell. You had no intention of surprising Barry, as he could see everything happening in slow motion and could easily see you approaching.

 Allen held a frying pan, trying to flip a pancake. On the kitchen counter was a stack of pancakes and two coffee cups of Jitters.

With a smile on your face, you approached your husband, placing your hand on the speedster's shoulder. Barry's face lit up, showing a sweet smile.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, my dear.”

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“You always make coffee, I decided to make it for you today.” Allen placed the last finished pancake on the plate, enjoying the view of what he had just prepared. “Are you hungry?”

“I think I could devour a whole cow.” Your stomach churned, complaining of hunger.

 You usually didn't eat much, unlike your husband. Barry had to consume at least fifteen thousand calories daily, so he could stay upright and healthy. He literally ate all day and kept him body skinny.

Unlike you, who hardly felt hungry. You were the perfect couple. When you couldn't finish your snack, Allen was able to eat everything and still had plenty of room in his stomach. A few weeks ago, you began to feel extraordinarily hungry.

 You ate almost the same amount of food as Barry. It seemed like you were a speedster, too. Her sense of smell could sense food being prepared in other rooms, as well as feeling terrible nausea and dizziness. You thought it was vitamin’s problem, and you bought some to make yourself feel better.

 Within seconds, the breakfast table was fully set. Without much ceremony, you joined your husband to enjoy their morning meal.

“I could have sworn you have hypermetabolism too.” He joked when he saw you steal a pancake from him after eating yours.

“I don't know what happened. It feels like I'm eating for an army.” You verbalized, picking up the dishes to wash them. As soon as your hand placed the last glass in the sink, a horrible sensation gripped your entire body. You ran to the bathroom, feeling a terrible urge to vomit. Your body leaned over the toilet as the breakfast was poured out.

In less than a second, Barry appeared at your side, his face full of concern. One hand held your hair, while the other smoothed your back.

 “Are you okay?”

“I am. I think I ate more than my stomach can handle.”

“Let Caitlin examine you.”

“I told you I'm fine, dear.” You got up with Barry's help. Along the way, you felt your vision darken and your body vibrate, as if you were a speedster. “I think going to see Caitlin is a good idea.”

 (…)

“I have two new features.” Caitlin said, as soon as she finished examining your blood. “A good one and a bad one, depending on one's point of view.”

“What's the good news?” Barry asked. Cisco, Joe, Barry, and you were waiting in the exam room. Caitlin held a sheet of paper with the results of your exams.

“You're pregnant.”

 Your world spun. Your chest collapsed with happiness. A year ago, you and Barry were planning to have a child, but you never had any luck.

Allen took your hand. The speedster's face was flooded with a smile. Everyone in the room was happy with the news of yet another person being added to Team Flash.

“And what's the bad news?” You asked.

“Very well.” She seemed to be looking for the right words. “I did an ultrasound, and it looks like the baby's heart has stopped.”

“You mean he's dead?”

Everyone in the room asked at once. Tears had already appeared in your eyes, you had barely gotten used to the idea of being a mother, and your little Allen was no longer with you.

“Theoretically, yes.”

“Explain it properly.” You demanded.

“When Barry was struck by lightning, his heart stopped several times. Doctors believed he had died because the machines couldn't record his heartbeat.” She explained. “But his heart had never stopped, what happened is that he was so fast that not even the machines could keep up.”

“So your theory is that the baby is like Barry?” Cisco chimed in. His face was in an expression it was always when he was thinking. “My God, that completely explains your extraordinary hunger and why you started vibrating like a speedster.”

“Our son is also fast.” Allen said, grinning from ear to ear. He deposited a beak on your lips, still holding your hand.

 Ten years later…

 You've finished setting the lunch table. The dish of the day was pasta with broccoli and cheese. Benjamin Allen's favorite meal.

After putting the last dish on the table, you called your child. Benjamin quickly descended using his powers.

The wind caused by your little one's speed left one of the glasses on the table unbalanced. Before Ben had a chance to catch him, another speedster came in front of him. Barry put the glass right where it was before, and went to meet him.

The brunette wrapped his arms around his body and pressed a sweet kiss to her neck. A laugh escaped his throat as he saw his son utter an exclamation of disgust.

“Please, your son is here watching you be completely disgusting. Ben said, sitting in the chair.

Benjamin has the same hair color as yours, but he had the same green eyes as his father. Everyone who saw him always said the same thing, that he was a faithful copy of Barry Allen.

 He and your husband were the guardians of Central City. The little one has not yet obtained all of his father's abilities, but he has the super speed and the ability to vibrate his body and molecules.

 In the middle of lunch, you smiled when you saw the size of your child's plate, which was three times larger than yours. That scene reminded him of something.

“Ben, would you like to hear the story of the day I found out I was pregnant?”

[hanasnx]

Not that I’ve thought about it but I just want clark to fuck me into the mattress after a fight, like legs up on his shoulders and all and then him being condescending and stuff, definitely red k Clark

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Not much—mm—to say now, huh?” RED!CLARK KENT grills you through his own grunts of effort, big hands clamped on your hips to stay in control of your movements. “Nothing for that shrill little voice to nag about ‘cept how hard I’m going.” Sharply, he exhales through his nose just as you gasp, his tip cutting a little too deep, shocking you at the touch of your cervix. It’s the position, it just makes it too accessible. Your feet bob next to his head with every sheathe while he keeps you folded over yourself with his weight.

“You are going too hard—!” you complain, but it’s just to get at him. Rough fingers press into your flesh, and you cry out as he uses your words against you.

“See what I mean?” he remarks, and the smirk in his lips exposes one of his famous dimples. Curtly, he adjusts you, propping himself up over you so he can lay his body over the backs of your thighs. It raises your hips naturally, makes the fit a little more comfortable. At the sight of your fluttering eyes, he leans in for a kiss, sucking on your pliant lips while the sounds of sex fill the room. He lets off with a pop, but murmurs against your mouth, “No matter how much we fight,” that irresistible Clark Kent charm shines through in his grin, flaring up your irritation at how easy it is for him to get you to forgive him. His head nods up. “Your ankles always have a place on my shoulders.”

[dulcescorderitas]

clark leaned against the locker room door, his eyes blazing with an unmistakable crimson hue. the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t just charming—it was downright infuriating. red kryptonite had turned smallville’s golden boy into a swaggering, irreverent bad boy, and he knew exactly how to wield that dangerous edge.

“y’know,” he drawled, tilting his head lazily as his gaze slid over you, unhurried and electric, “i’ve got a talent most boyfriends don’t. i see things… things other guys can only dream of.” his voice was low, gravelly, a sinful mix of arrogance and tease.

you folded your arms, feeling the heat of his stare as though it had a weight of its own. “what are you talking about, clark?” you snapped, pretending the flush on your cheeks was from annoyance and not the way he was looking at you—like he already owned every inch of your body.

clark chuckled, a deep, wicked sound, and stepped closer, the space between you crackling with tension. his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, but his posture screamed dominance. “oh, don’t play coy,” he said, his eyes flashing to yours briefly before dipping lower again. “lacy red with a little bow in the front? cute. but maybe next time, try something sheer. you’re hiding a masterpiece under there.”

your breath caught in your throat, indignation and something darker surging through you. “excuse me?!” you hissed, your hand instinctively tugging your skirt down. “did you just…?”

“did i just use my x-ray vision to admire my girl’s panties?” clark interrupted, leaning down so his lips were just a breath from your ear. his voice dropped, husky and unapologetic. “damn right i did.”

your heart was pounding now, a wild rhythm of embarrassment and excitement. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure. but it was hard to stay indignant when he had that smug, wolfish grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“and you’re gorgeous,” he shot back effortlessly, stepping even closer, his body brushing against yours. “seriously, babe, you should’ve seen yourself bending over to pick up your books earlier. let’s just say it made gym class a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“you are impossible, clark kent,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the growing heat between you two. his confidence, his audacity—it was intoxicating.

“impossible?” he echoed, finally pulling his hands free of his pockets and bracketing you against the lockers. “maybe. but you love it.” his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his smirk softening just enough to be almost sweet—almost. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll keep your little secret safe… for now.”

[sunsburns]

clark kent and those damn glasses (18+)

one of the most endearing things about clark is his glasses. and it’s not just the frames themselves—it’s the way he wears them.

they’re charmingly imperfect, a little too big for his face (funny since he’s already so huge), the wide frames sitting just slightly askew over his eyes. they’re always slipping down his nose when he’s focused on work, and you adore the way he absentmindedly pushes them up with his finger.

it’s such a dorky gesture, pressing his pointer finger to the bridge and nudging them back into place, sometimes scrunching his nose without even realizing it.

his glasses are rarely ever straight. they always seem just a little crooked, as if they have a mind of their own. you find it endlessly charming, especially when he’s flustered, rushing to adjust them in the middle of a conversation.

and the way his glasses fog up? it’s honestly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. in the winter, it happens all the time, especially when he’s bundled up in one of those thick scarves his mom knitted for him. he doesn’t just wear them; he practically swaddles himself in them, wrapping them up so high they cover half his face, his chin tucked snugly inside.

and it wasn’t like he needed them, that man never really gets cold.

but when the cold air meets the warmth of his breath trapped behind the scarf, his glasses fog over completely.

and he doesn’t even notice right away.

“oh,” he’ll mumble, sheepish, pulling the scarf down just enough to blow warm air into his hands or wipe the lenses with his sleeve. and you can’t help but stare, heart melting a little more at how utterly unassuming he is.

but the best part is when they fog up because of you. when you kiss him—really kiss him—the lenses go misty, blurring the edges of his face until all you can focus on is how soft his lips feel against yours.

you tease him about it sometimes—“superman can’t even keep his glasses clean?”—but the way his ears turn red when you say it makes you kiss him again, and again, and again. and every time, he’s the same—pink-cheeked, slightly embarrassed, and completely perfect. sometimes he won’t even bother cleaning them, his hands sliding back to your waist, pulling you closer, because really, all he wants to see is you.

all he wants to feel is you.

clark kisses like the end of the world is coming. his lips are parted, hands everywhere—gripping your waist, cradling your face, sliding down your back as if trying to memorize the shape of you. his mouth slots against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. and when his knee nudges between your legs, he waits—waits for that gasp, that little sigh you can’t hold back—before slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste more of you, to pull you even closer.

and then there’s the glasses. sometimes, more often than not, you’re the one reaching for them, fingers brushing over his temples, trying to fix them on his face when they’ve slid down his nose. he’s too caught up in you to notice or care, but you can’t help yourself. it starts as a simple gesture—your hands reaching for his face, for his hair, for anything you can anchor yourself to. you nudge the glasses back into place, only to watch them fog up again as he groans against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy between kisses.

and sometimes, clark forgets to take them off when things get messy. one kiss turns into another, and another, until clothes are being pushed aside, his hands roaming, touching, claiming. his lips trail lower, over your jaw, your throat, your stomach, until he’s kneeling before you, arms wrapped tight around your thighs, his mouth hot and relentless against your cunt.

his glasses are still there, perched on his nose, slightly crooked but somehow still clinging on. the lenses catch the faintest glint of light, fogged over from his breath, smudged from the mess he’s making of you. his tongue drags through your folds with deliberate precision, teasing and tasting, and when his nose nudges your clit, you jolt, a whimper spilling from your lips.

“oh, baby,” you gasp, voice shaky and half-laughing when he moans at the sound of you calling him ‘baby’. the vibration travels through you, making your thighs tremble in his grip. his free hand slides up the outside of your leg, fingers splaying over your skin before grabbing a handful of your ass. he uses the grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue dipping into you again and again, insistent and unrelenting. every movement, every touch, feels deliberate—he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s determined to ruin you.

his glasses slip further down his nose, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause to fix them. his focus is entirely on you, on the way you’re gasping and squirming, your hands tangling in his hair, your hips bucking against his face. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you fill the air, and you’re half-delirious with pleasure, your body trembling as he pushes you higher and higher.

it’s only when you’re shaking, your thighs trembling around his head, that he finally pulls back. his face is flushed, his lips shiny and swollen, and those damn glasses—crooked, foggy, and smudged—still cling to his nose. he grins at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before finally pulling the glasses off and tossing them aside.

he rolls his eyes at your sad whine once they’re gone.

you’ve always liked his glasses for some reason.

[dollfacefantasy]

redk!clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, extremely dubcon, gunplay

"you're shaking so hard, baby," clark croons from below you. his lips have split into a lazy grin as he watches you bounce up and down on his lap.

"cause you're scaring me," you whimper in return, bottom lip wobbling and tears brimming at your waterline.

it's a partial truth. multiple factors are responsible for your glossy eyes and quivering thighs. anxiety from your boyfriend's recently developed attitude. bliss from the way you're taking his cock to the hilt. terror from the cool, metal pistol digging into your hip.

none of it matters to him though. he wasn't asking in earnest. only to tease. you might be scared out of your mind, but this is the most fun clark's had all week.

he laughs at your assertion, raising his brows in feigned disbelief. "you're scared?" he asks, "is this what you do when you're scared? you pull your panties off and ride the first guy who offers?"

your mouth opens to answer, but he suddenly bucks his hips, silencing any words you had and nearly knocking you off balance in one go. his free hand keeps you steady on top of him. he only needs the one to handle you.

“or maybe i’m special? is that it? i hope so,” he mocks.

whimpers fall from your lips as he continues fucking into your warm hole. wet squelching sounds fill the air around the two of you.

“you told me to! you didn’t give me much of a choice,” you sniffle in defense of yourself. your teary eyes fall to the weapon at your waist to emphasize your point. you don’t even know where he got it from or why he feels the need to aim it at you.

“only cause i could smell your little cunt dripping for me as soon as i walked in the room,” he says, squeezing your hip.

his palm spreads out on your hip before sliding to your back and pulling you down. you collapse onto his chest, your back arching at an awkward angle. the position doesn’t slow him down any. he keeps drilling up into you like he’s being timed.

pathetic whines spill from your lips as you gush around him. frightened as you are, it’s still clark with his cock that fits so perfectly inside you. your fingers clutch at his meaty biceps, nails digging into the skin.

he smiles at your growing cooperation and nuzzles at the side of your hair.

“it’s ok if you wanna blame me, baby. you play the perfect victim,” he breathes.