#clark kent x reader

[st4rfckerz]

“We can’t go all the way, Clark.” Your tone was tense, torn between caution and need.

“Just the tip, I swear. I won't...I won't go all the way.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to rein in his urgency. “I just need to feel you.” His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he fought to maintain control.

He moved slowly but steadily, inch by inch, so you could get used to his size. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he felt your walls flutter around the tip of his dick. He paused for a second, knowing that if he moved anymore he’d bust right then and there.

After remaining still for a moment, he finally started to move. He rocked his hips in a gentle rhythm, swollen tip sliding in and out of your warm, sticky cunt with deliberate, controlled strokes. But as he continued to move inside of you, feeling how wet you were just for him, he could feel his resolve weakening. His fingers dug into your flushed skin as he held you close, pulling your body against his so he could bury himself deeper inside you.

“I’m sorry, you feel so good,” He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he lost himself. It was too much, too good, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer at this rate.

You shouldn't have been surprised, really. Deep down, you had a feeling that Clark's restraint would only last so long. Maybe it was what you really wanted. Who knows.

[hanasnx]

thinking about red clark making you thank him after every orgasm he gives you

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

You stiffen, seizing up from the very tips of your toes, the sensation crawling up your legs to your weakened knees to the hot spot of your pelvis. Your abdomen shakes, trembling as the force shoots up through your chest, makes your breath hitch and delay, and no matter how you try to keep them open your eyes squeeze shut anyway. It moves without your consent, it commands your entire body for a second… two seconds… three. It stutters and it lingers, brief but powerful waves crashing through you while you arch off the bed against your will. Just like it occurred, it flits away, a fleeting moment you now bask in the afterglow of. Skin sheens with sweat, your chest rises and falls with new breath, you relax with a sigh, and your legs fall open after rigidly locking up. It washes over you.

RED!CLARK KENT ends it with a peck to your clit, and it jolts your body out of its pristine relaxation. “Did good, baby, I felt that one.” You can’t say anything—not yet. You remain still while he hovers over you, climbing until he’s face to face. The smell of you wafts from his lips as he leans down to smear it on your cheek and neck, kissing and licking the salt off your skin. “Did you like it?” he speaks in a dipping tune, prompting you to do what you’re supposed to. After you swallow thickly, you nod.

“Thank you.” you reply, your voice hoarse from screaming prior to this. “Thank you, Clark, I loved it.” The words are a little hollow, sick of his arrogant attitude orgasm after orgasm.

“Right, save your sincerity.” he comments sarcastically while he clutches his base, stroking his throbbing head through your sensitive slit. You hiss. You can feel its heartbeat. “We’re not done yet.”

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹♡ cheerleader!reader and her salacious tendencies should offend CLARK KENT’s honorable small-town sensibilities, and they do, mostly—the way her skirt rides up her thighs, the way her ponytail flips over her shoulder when she walks past him after practice… her tiny shorts and the way she bends over the table like there’s no one standing directly behind her. his eyes widen and he averts them respectfully when her ass peeks out—but it’s the way she smiles at him when she straightens up, pearly whites flashing knowingly, that makes him mumble an excuse and stalk off to the bathroom to try to wish away the tent in his pants. unfortunately, wishes don’t work, and he ends up fucking his own fist and struggling stay silent, face flushed with a mix of pleasure and crushing guilt afterwards

[plethorawrites]

How I think the Batboys + Clark would respond to you asking them to "dress up" in some capacity for them in the bedroom like you always do for them.

"I'm always the one in lingerie, why don't you dress up for me for a change?"

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce: Will go for the most petty response possible, by keeping his tie on the next time you're intimate. Which, he meant mostly as a sarcastic joke, but found himself enjoying. You also seemed to be incredibly fond of it, tugging it in between your teeth or biting at it around his neck. When it was covered in your spit from all the biting, it eventually slipped off his neck and got wrapped around your wrists, tightened to keep you in place. And when you resisted it after a bit (lovingly, of course) he untied it, pushing it back into your mouth to muffle your sounds. Who knew a tie was so versatile?

---

Dick: Has no problem with complying when you ask him to dress up. None. You make a fair point and it's only fair he puts in some effort and he's secure enough in his masculinity to do anything you ask. This is the same man who went as discowing for a while, after all. A garter? You're foaming at your mouth. You want him to wear some sort of dress or actual lingerie? He'll have to buy it since yours definitely wouldn't fit, but he'll absolutely get something flattering. A bit of roleplay, to fit, if it was something themed? It's a given. How could he not fully commit?

---

Jason: Would roll his eyes, not because he's annoyed but because he thinks he'd look ridiculous and he cares more about worshipping you than letting you take care of him. That said, If you wanted something different, he'd do something different. The next time he comes home from patrol, instead of taking his stuff off and changing, he stays in it, making you take it off. The leather of his gloves twirling your hair as you unbuckled things, the feeling of your hands tugging his jacket off, is enticing for both of you. And by the time he's nearly fully undressed, you're both desperate. The helmet is the last to go. And it only does after he whispers a few things he knew you'd like in your ear.

---

Tim: Has no idea what that even means, honestly. It could be a joke, maybe. But better safe than sorry if not. Since he didn't quite know, he went with the safest option that could still qualify and wore a see through button up under his jacket, with his slacks for an event, letting you see it later that night. You seemed happy, if not a little frustrated for him having it on all night without knowing. Probably because if you'd seen him in a sheer black top, showing off his chest and stomach, you'd pull him into the bathroom and take it off right there.

---

(Aged up) Damian: Isn't entirely unused to flamboyancy in one way or another. He wore plenty of nice robes and wraps for the League of Assassins, not to mention suits for his father's events. But that was a normal thing, he supposed. So, if you wanted something different, he'd have to think outside of the box. He's always liked art, ever since he was young and even considered making love to be an art in itself, in a way. So, the next time you're in his room, tugging off his clothes, you're surprised when he's covered in henna, little swirls, dots, even flowers. It had taken hours, but was absolutely worth it for the look on your face.

---

Clark: Was befuddled, like he often was when you said that. He had no idea how to dress up for you, or even why you'd want him to. But when you guys spend a weekend at the farm and he catches your eyes lingering when he's working in the yard, he figures it out. When you're home, several days after the visit ended, you find him in overalls and nothing else, except for a cowboy hat, he usually wore to keep the sun out of his eyes. And it was fun, he'll admit, seeing you get excited. The hat looked much better on you, though.

[sanjisprincesss]

Shoutout to the fictional characters who live rent free in my head, paying for nothing but emotional damage.

[svnriseblvdd]

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

the highly requested expansion on this post, in which your neighbour clark kent is so helpful, and so adorably awkward that you can't help but tease him.

mildly suggestive, mdni

Your parents decided to move out of the city to this small, unknown farming town for whatever reason. You're in a new place, no friends, nothing to do. Then your mother sends you to pick up a food order from a nearby farm. Thinking about Mrs Kent calling for her son Clark to come help you with all these heavy boxes and bags and this gorgeous 6-foot-something boy comes out all tall and muscular with the sweetest smile. He's in that tight white t-shirt and jeans with a belt combo, tied together with that boyish charm that has you nearly swooning as he comes over. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“Can you help carry all of this? I don't want her struggling all the way home.” 

You think that a long walk like that with someone as pretty as Clark Kent might kill you. “Oh  really, Mrs Kent-” Mrs Kent gives you a look “- Martha, it's not a problem. I don't live that far, I think I can do it.” 

“No, no, I insist. Clark will help you.” 

You look to Clark and offer a smile which he returns. Oh, he's far too cute. You're pretty sure your heart is close to bursting out of your chest. Damn the Kents and their hot-as-hell farmboy son. Damn Smallville for thrusting this man upon you. Damn the powers that be for dangling him in front of you, teasing you with his existence. 

“Thank you, Martha,” you say, and she nods with a smile before heading back inside with a goodbye and a well-wish. 

Clark bends down to grab the crates, which he stacks on top of each other, ladening his arms with bags as well, leaving a very small percentage of the order to be carried by you. “Uh, I can take some of that if you-” 

“No, totally fine. It’s not that heavy.” 

Your eyebrows raise, eyes briefly flitting down to look at his biceps, now flexed and really pressing against the confines of his sleeves. Then you blink back to reality and bend down to pick up the other bags, beginning the walk with Clark at your side. 

“I’m Clark, by the way,” he introduces himself, and you give him your name. “Right, you guys just moved here from Central City?” 

“Yeah, how did you-” 

“Not much really passes for gossip around here. So, how are you liking Smallville?” 

“Oh, it’s great. Real party town. Cream corn capital of the world, I hear,” you remark sarcastically, and Clark chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s definitely a change of pace. Not exactly a totally welcome one, but I don’t think it can get much worse.” 

“Are you not settling in?” 

“Oh, I’m settled. Totally. Just that it’s not really easy being in a new place and knowing nobody.” 

“Well, now you’ve got me.” 

“Oh, do I now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I could be a horrible person, Clark. You can’t just go around letting total strangers into your life like this.” 

He shrugs. “You know, I think it’d be a little more obvious if you were evil.” 

You hold up a finger. “I didn’t say evil, just horrible.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re horrible either. I’d like to think I have a pretty good sense for these things.” 

“Yeah, well. You can never be too careful around complete strangers.” 

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself if you turned out to be a serial killer or a bandit or something,” Clark says. 

You eye his physique again. “Yeah, probably. I mean, what do you bench, a tractor?” Clark laughs a little awkwardly, and you feel yourself turning hot with embarrassment. “Sorry. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t checking you out or anything. It’s just that you’re very noticeably strong.” 

He gives another one of those charming smiles. “Don’t worry, you’re okay.” 

Somehow, it seems Clark is more embarrassed by the situation than you are. 

And when you finally reach your house, and Clark helps carry everything inside, you decide to test something. 

You’re putting away something in a low cupboard, bending at the waist, ass right in front of him, and when you stand straight and turn around, Clark has turned a bright shade of red and avoids eye contact as best as possible. 

And before he leaves, you voice your gratitude, going above and beyond to tell him that you’re so grateful for him being there to help. “Thank you so much, Clark. You were so helpful. Just let me know how I can return the favour, I’ll help any way I can.” 

And then you’re giving him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a happy goodbye, watching him leave with empty crates and a blush on his cheeks. He’s far too cute. 

You like Clark Kent. Not just because of his smile or his biceps or eyes or hair. Because he’s kind, funny, and oh so helpful. It doesn’t hurt that you also like how he turns red. 

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving the cute banter between the two and really excited to reader how the relationship will develop between them! 🥰

Love and Neighbors

Pairings; Clark Kent x Reader Summary; Neighbors with Superman, the two of you try to figure out how to admit your feelings for each other. And everything that happens after. Ao3

1- Small Talk in Elevators

“Good morning, Clark!” You said as you locked your apartment door. 

Clark whipped his head to look at you as he backed out of his doorway, juggling manilla folders and his keys. He lifted his hand to wave to you, but the folders in his arms slipped from his grasp, causing them to spill out onto the floor. Without thinking, you were already apologizing for startling him, as you thought that you did, and kneeling to pick up the papers. 

As he knelt to help you, Clark instantly noticed how nice you smelled, but thought again about how weird that was to think. Or to even notice. 

You were scooping papers into a folder, not really noticing how out of order they were, but he didn’t mind. It was nice enough to see you this early for once, instead of later, when he was a bit more tired of being a reporter and the Man of Steel to have a small conversation with you. 

When everything was cleaned and the two of you were heading to the elevator, you apologized again. Clark stopped you mid-apology. “It’s okay, trust me. What are you doing this morning? I never see you up so early.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the Kansas boy felt absolutely stupid. He knew the question kind of sounded passive-aggressive. When he looked at you out the corner of his eyes, he could see the way your face twisted offended confusion for a split second before slipping into your happy morning smile. 

You laughed awkwardly, looking intently at Clark’s reflection in the elevator doors. “Oh, uh, yeah, I started a new job recently at the new Wayne Enterprises building next to Lex Corp. Hours changed.”

Wayne Enterprises, he wasn’t surprised that Bruce was poking at Lex Luthor by building in his city, after all the recent conflict. The reporter didn’t want to think about all the articles he had written on the subject of Luthor vs. Wayne-- or how bad Lex was losing. Clark nodded, still trying to salvage the conversation. “Congratulations! What will you be doing?”

“I’m going to work to help lead the Martha Wayne Foundation in Metropolis,” You smiled to yourself, something Clark had grown to love about you. “It kind of makes me happy, ya know? That I’m doing something meaningful and helping people.”

Kryptonite couldn’t stop the smile that crossed Clark’s face. “Becoming your own Superman now, huh?”

You laughed, a snort following along with it. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth, but Clark wanted nothing more than tell you that it was cute. Shaking your head, you look down at your heels. They had to be new because he hadn’t heard the clacking of your feet as you got ready in your apartment until that day. 

“No, he’s--I don’t think I’d ever want to be Superman,” You admitted. 

For some reason, Clark found himself a bit scared as to why. “Why?” He felt he asked a bit too quickly. Though, if you noticed, you said nothing. 

“Don’t have my very own pretty reporter,” You giggled, then grinned. “I also don’t have the balls of steel he does.”

Clark knew you didn’t know any better, but couldn’t help the blush that crossed his face, looking away so you didn’t notice. As you stepped from the elevator, laughing a little too hard at your joke now, he followed behind you with his own awkward laugh. 

The two of you came to the apartment building’s main entrance, about to leave your opposite ways. You bid him a goodbye to go your own way, still amused, and he did the same. As Clark looked back at you one last time, catching your eyes looking back as well, he smiled to himself. Yeah, definitely didn’t have the balls of steel.

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

⋰ ⋱✮ minors dni — suggestive ✮ ⋰ ⋱

♡ notes; been thinking about davids clark since the trailer — movie not out until july be damned, i had to write something

⋰ ⋱✮

Clark Kent is easily amused, throwing on a little red lace was more than enough to get a blushed reaction out of him, happily crawling into his lap as soon as his laptop was out of the way.

Superman is harder to read, harder to get ahold of. the second he was in the suit he gained a determination even the passionate, mild-mannered journalist couldn’t grasp.

Of course it didn’t usually make much difference to you, only really seeing the superhero side of him on a screen or in the paper the next day, but it was intriguing. call it curiosity, fantasy, greed even — you couldn’t help but wonder if that side of the man you cared so deeply for was doing more than just protecting you. what if he was holding something back?

you worked up the courage to say something about it when the familiar headline came across the tv; Superman saves! he looked as charming as ever, smiling and waving at the crowd of cameras and heads surrounding him. he was looking right at the camera intentionally, like he was looking right at you.

the blue and red covering him accompanied by the still somehow well-kept hair looked better every time you saw it. the reporters lucky enough to be there were going on and on about how incredible it was but truthfully it was hard to pay attention. the lack of breathlessness, the way he played it off as not a big deal like he didn’t just save the city again, the size of him towering over everyone else, all of it had you completely dazed.

you were all over him as soon as he stepped through the door, standing up on your toes to reach him for a kiss.

“hello to you, too.” a big hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you away from your impromptu attack on his own, tilting his head at you when you frowned in protest.

“I’m all sweaty and gross, let me take my suit off first, alright? then you can kiss me as much as you want. promise.” he punctuated his words with a kiss on your head, unnecessarily picking you up for just a second to move you out of the way before you tugged his wrist to stop him.

“wait, I actually- kinda wanted to talk to you about that.” you let go of his wrist as quickly as you’d grabbed it, anxiously clasping your hands together as he turned back towards you.

“about..?”

“that.” you pointed to his suit like it was obvious, nervously looking up at him.

“my suit? what about it?” you nodded, collecting the words in your head that seemed much more rational when he wasn’t standing over you.

“i think you should keep it on.” he didn’t seem to quite understand what you were getting at, large hand moving over his face in thought as you searched for a way to say it without flat out begging him to keep the suit on and bend you over.

“keep it on.. for you? like, here?” he looked around your shared apartment, eyes wandering over the living room like he was looking for clues until he got back to you, dancing around your words.

“just for a second? you’re always so.. i dunno, different, when you have it on.” you were speaking to him like you’d just gotten together this morning, your eyes stuck on the way the fabric shaped his arms.

“yeah, that’s sorta the point, honey. that’s just to protect my identity, to protect you.” he crossed his arms when he noticed the direction of your pointed gaze, daring you to say just what you meant.

“i know, but don’t you think that’s still you? like that’s just some deeper part of you?” it was glaringly obvious that you really just wanted him to throw you around a little bit — rough you up for the sake of your own filthy desires, but he wanted to give you time to rethink it, and just as bad, he wanted to hear you say it.

“what are you asking?” he stepped closer to you, boots not yet discarded by the door creaking the hard wood floor under them.

“i want to see it. to feel it- that part of you, i mean. i just.. don’t want you to feel like you have to hold anything back from me, clark.”

“sweetheart. that’s real nice but-“ he was trying to avoid the obvious; he didn’t want to really hurt you. it was hard enough avoiding deep bruises from his hard to manage strength just being clark, letting go completely seems almost irrational.

“you’re a lot stronger than me, i know. i can handle it. let me show you, please?” you took his steady hand, your own shakier than you’d like to admit — but you weren’t scared. you’d thought about it for so long it just excited you, clark was always so gentle and sweet with you — and you loved it! but he’d also do just about anything you set your pretty little mind on, and this was no exception.

“that’s really what you want?” he was just about as close as he could get now, listening intently to your heartbeat speeding up as his hands closed around your waist.

“please.”

[dulcescorderitas]

juno

parings: clark kent x reader

synopsis: one of you is cute, but two tho ;)

warnings: no smut

clark stood by the counter, sipping coffee, his broad shoulders framed against the window’s frost-tipped pane. you leaned against the table, your eyes on him, tracing every line of his face as if committing him to memory.

he glanced over, catching your stare, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "what's on your mind?"

you hesitated, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, the weight of your thoughts swirling in your chest—a mixture of desire and vulnerability. finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "i’ve been thinking about… us. about what’s next."

clark set his mug down, his brow furrowing slightly in concern. "what’s next? is everything okay?"

"more than okay." you stepped closer, the warmth radiating from him pulling you in like a magnet. you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “clark, i want to start a family.”

his lips parted, surprise flickering across his features. he searched your face for a moment, as if making sure he’d heard you right. "you mean—?"

"i want you to..." you trailed off, heat creeping into your cheeks. you dropped your gaze to where your hand rested on his chest, your voice trembling but resolute. "i want you to… make love to me and put a baby in me." the words tumbled out, shy but unmistakably sincere. "i want it, clark. i want us to have a baby."

the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken emotions. his hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as his voice dropped to a low, reverent whisper. "you really mean that?"

"every word." you lifted your gaze, meeting his intense, searching eyes. “i want to feel what it’s like… to have your baby growing inside me. to make something that’s completely us.”

a slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face, his gaze softening into something almost unbearably tender. he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a shaky laugh.

“you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

taglist: @legalmente-loca

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Wally West, Dinah Lance, Victor Stone (Cyborg) & Shayera Hol (Hawkgirl)

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce Wayne is a force of nature—stoic, commanding, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness that only a few ever glimpse. You’re captivated by him, the way he effortlessly blends into a crowd yet still commands attention. That’s why you don’t see the edge of the rug in the dim lighting of Wayne Manor, tripping gracelessly. Before you can hit the ground, Bruce is there, his strong hands gripping your arms with surprising care. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice deep and steady, concern etched into his usually impassive features.

- His hold lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You should be more careful,” he says, his tone soft but firm. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe even something deeper—that makes your heart race. He steps back, adjusting his cufflinks as if to regain his composure, but the subtle way his eyes linger on you betrays his own faltering calm.

- Throughout the evening, Bruce stays close, his presence a quiet reassurance. He’s the epitome of subtlety—offering you a glass of water here, gently guiding you through the crowded ballroom there. His attentiveness is masked by his usual aloof demeanor, but you catch the fleeting softness in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his carefully constructed walls, Bruce has always struggled to hide the depth of his emotions.

- Later, when the guests have departed and the manor is quiet, Bruce surprises you by breaking the silence. “You… matter to me,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looks at you, his usual stoicism giving way to vulnerability. “I’ve lost too much in my life to ignore what’s in front of me now.” His words are raw, unpolished, but they carry the weight of his guarded heart. You reach out, your fingers brushing his, and he lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark Kent is the epitome of kindness, his warmth as disarming as it is comforting. You’ve always admired him—his strength tempered by humility, his smile as bright as the sun he draws his power from. Today, as you watch him navigate the newsroom with his usual charm, you’re so distracted that you trip over a stray power cord. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with effortless ease. “Whoa, I’ve got you,” he says, his tone gentle and reassuring, his strong arms steadying you.

- Clark’s concern is immediate, his brow furrowing as he looks you over. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft but earnest. His hands linger on your arms, his touch as steady as his gaze. When you assure him you’re fine, he chuckles softly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I guess I can be a little distracting,” he teases, though the sincerity in his eyes makes it clear he’s still worried.

- Throughout the day, Clark’s attentiveness is unshakable. Whether it’s fetching you a fresh cup of coffee or subtly guiding you around potential obstacles, his protectiveness shines through in the smallest gestures. His blue eyes find yours often, his expression softening every time. When you catch him looking at you, his cheeks flush slightly, and he quickly adjusts his glasses—a nervous habit that only endears him to you further.

- Later, when the hustle of the day has settled, Clark finds you in a quiet corner of the office. “You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I’ve faced a lot of things in my life—things I never thought I’d survive. But you… you make everything feel a little brighter.” He looks down, adjusting his glasses again, before meeting your gaze. “I just hope I can be as much for you as you are for me.” His words are simple but heartfelt, and when you smile, his grin returns, radiating the warmth of a man who feels deeply and loves unconditionally.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry Allen is a whirlwind of energy and charm, his quick wit matched only by the speed at which he moves. You’re so captivated by his boyish smile and the way his hands move animatedly as he talks that you don’t see the uneven sidewalk ahead. Before you can stumble, Barry is there, catching you with a speed that leaves you breathless. “Whoa, careful!” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “You okay? That was almost a total wipeout.”

- His concern is genuine, though his teasing grin never falters. “You know, I’ve seen people fall for me before, but this is a first,” he jokes, his tone light but his hands lingering on your arms just a moment longer than necessary. When you laugh, his grin widens, and his eyes sparkle with something deeper than amusement. “Seriously, though,” he adds, his voice softening, “are you sure you’re okay?”

- Barry’s protectiveness is subtle but constant throughout the day. He’s always just a step ahead, anticipating your needs with an almost uncanny accuracy. Whether it’s holding a door open before you even reach it or catching a falling book mid-air, his actions speak louder than words. Every time his eyes meet yours, there’s a warmth there that makes your heart race, and when he blushes under your gaze, you realize he’s just as affected as you are.

- Later, when the day slows down, Barry surprises you with a rare moment of vulnerability. “You know,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not always the smoothest guy around, but with you… I feel like I don’t have to try so hard.” His voice is softer now, his usual bravado giving way to honesty. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… you make me want to slow down, and that’s saying something.” His cheeks flush as he looks at you, and when you smile, he lets out a breathless laugh, his grin returning with a newfound confidence.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana of Themyscira carries herself with a grace and strength that feels otherworldly. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she stands in the sunlight, her armor gleaming and her smile as radiant as the dawn, you can’t look away. That’s why you trip, your foot catching on a stray root. Before you can fall, Diana is there, her arms steadying you with effortless ease. “Are you hurt?” she asks, her voice filled with concern, her dark eyes scanning you with a warrior’s precision.

- Diana’s touch is gentle despite her strength, her fingers lingering on your arm as she helps you steady yourself. “You must be more careful,” she says, her tone soft but firm. When you assure her you’re fine, she smiles, the warmth in her expression making your heart flutter. “It is easy to be distracted by beauty,” she adds, her words carrying a hint of playfulness, though her gaze remains steady on yours.

- Throughout the day, Diana stays close, her protective instincts clearly at odds with her desire to let you stand on your own. She’s ever watchful, her presence a comforting reminder of her strength. When your eyes meet, there’s a softness in her gaze that contrasts with her usual warrior’s intensity. It’s as if she’s letting you see a side of her few ever do—a side that cares deeply and feels even more.

- Later, as the sun sets and the world quiets, Diana speaks with a rare vulnerability. “You remind me of why I fight,” she says, her voice low but steady. “Not for glory or duty, but for love—for those who make the world worth saving.” She reaches out, her hand brushing yours, her touch both tender and strong. “You are more than I expected,” she adds, her smile soft but unwavering. “And I find myself drawn to you in ways I cannot ignore.” Her words are as sincere as the Amazon herself, and as you take her hand, you feel the unspoken promise of her unwavering heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur Curry has always carried the weight of two worlds on his shoulders, but you’ve never seen it diminish his strength or his humor. Today, as you watch him command the attention of those around him with his booming laugh and rugged charm, you lose track of your footing and stumble on a slick patch of wet tile. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with a strength that feels like the ocean itself. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, his voice deep and warm, his golden eyes gleaming with concern.

- His hands linger on your waist as he steadies you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You okay?” he asks, his tone softer now. When you nod, his lips curl into a crooked grin. “You’ve got to watch your step around water, you know,” he teases, though there’s a flicker of something more in his gaze—something protective, maybe even possessive. “Next time, just grab onto me. I don’t mind being your anchor.”

- Throughout the day, Arthur is never far from your side. Whether it’s his broad hand brushing yours as you walk or the way he places himself between you and the crowd, his actions speak louder than words. When he laughs at your jokes or catches your eye from across the room, there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his larger-than-life persona. And when you catch him looking at you, his grin fades into something deeper, more thoughtful, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your face.

- Later, under the quiet of the moonlit ocean, Arthur opens up in a way he rarely does. “You’re different,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “Most people see the king, the warrior… but you see me. Just me.” His fingers brush yours, his touch warm despite the cool night air. “And I think… I want to be that for you. Just Arthur.” His vulnerability takes your breath away, and as you take his hand, his grin returns, softer but no less genuine.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal Jordan is impossible to ignore—the sheer confidence he exudes is magnetic, and his grin could rival the brightest star. You’re so caught up in watching him regale the group with one of his wild stories that you don’t see the loose stone on the ground. You trip, your balance faltering, but before you can fall, Hal is there, catching you with the ease of a man who’s saved the universe a dozen times. “Gotcha,” he says, his grin widening as he steadies you. “You okay, beautiful?”

- Hal’s teasing tone is paired with genuine concern as he looks you over, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” he says, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Though I can’t blame you if you were distracted by someone as handsome as me.” His cocky grin makes you roll your eyes, but the way he’s still holding onto you betrays the softer side he tries to keep hidden.

- The rest of the day, Hal is uncharacteristically attentive. He’s always been protective, but now it’s obvious—whether he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders in a crowded room or using his Green Lantern ring to light your path. His usual banter is interspersed with moments of quiet affection: a lingering glance, a soft smile when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his bravado, Hal’s heart is open and unguarded when it comes to you.

- Later, under the stars, Hal drops the act. “I know I come off as this fearless guy,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But the truth is, I’m terrified of losing the people I care about.” He looks at you, his usual confidence replaced by sincerity. “You… you mean more to me than I ever expected. And I’m not going to mess this up.” His words are raw, vulnerable, and when you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he pulls you closer.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen is larger than life, his charisma and sharp wit drawing everyone in like moths to a flame. You’ve always found it hard to look away from him, but today, as he leans against the bar, his trademark smirk in place, you’re completely distracted. That’s why you don’t notice the stray chair leg in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Oliver is there, catching you with surprising ease. “Whoa there,” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “Falling for me already?”

- His teasing tone is matched by the warmth in his eyes as he looks you over, his hands steady on your waist. “You okay?” he asks, his voice softening as he meets your gaze. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’d hate to think I caused you any trouble.” He steps back reluctantly, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before he releases you.

- For the rest of the day, Oliver is his usual charming self, but there’s an added layer of protectiveness to his actions. He’s quick to offer his arm when the ground is uneven and even quicker to shoot a playful wink your way when he catches you watching him. His sharp humor is balanced by the genuine care he shows in the little things, like the way he quietly makes sure you’re comfortable in every situation.

- Later, as the two of you find yourselves alone, Oliver surprises you with his honesty. “You know,” he begins, his voice quieter now, “I’ve spent a lot of time pretending to be someone I’m not. But with you… I don’t feel like I have to.” He looks at you, his usual bravado giving way to something more vulnerable. “You see me—the real me—and somehow, you haven’t run away yet.” His grin returns, softer this time, and when you step closer, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he takes your hand.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John Constantine is chaos incarnate, a man who carries the weight of the supernatural world on his shoulders while masking his pain behind biting wit and a cigarette’s haze. You’re watching him in the dim light of a dingy bar, his trench coat draped over his chair, the glow of his cigarette illuminating his sharp features. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you trip over an uneven floorboard. Before you can hit the ground, John’s there, catching you with surprising swiftness. “Careful, love,” he says, his rough voice laced with amusement. “Hate to see a beauty like you bruised.”

- His hands linger as he steadies you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “You alright?” he asks, his tone more earnest now. When you nod, he gives you a lopsided grin. “Good. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you were distracted. Happens when I’m around.” His teasing tone is classic Constantine, but the way his eyes linger on you betrays something deeper—something he’s trying hard to keep hidden.

- For the rest of the evening, John’s attention is subtle but constant. Whether it’s shielding you from the bar’s more unsavory patrons or lighting your way with a flicker of magic, his protectiveness shines through his sarcastic façade. He teases you mercilessly, but there’s a warmth in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking—a vulnerability that feels at odds with the cocky mage you know.

- Later, as the night winds down, John surprises you by dropping his guard. “You’re dangerous, you know,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “Getting under my skin like this… it’s not bloody fair.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you with uncharacteristic honesty. “I’ve got demons, love—literally and figuratively. But you… you make me think maybe there’s still a part of me worth saving.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who’s seen too much yet dares to hope.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy Harper is the embodiment of resilience, his charm and humor hiding the scars of his past. You’ve always admired his strength, but today, as he adjusts the sights on his bow, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight, you can’t help but stare. So much so that you miss the loose pebble beneath your foot and stumble. Before you can hit the ground, Roy’s quick reflexes have you in his arms. “Whoa, easy there,” he says with a teasing grin. “Didn’t know I was that distracting.”

- He steadies you, his hands warm and calloused from years of archery. “You good?” he asks, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’m not sure my heart can handle the thought of you getting hurt.” His words are light, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze that tells you he means every word.

- Throughout the day, Roy’s attention is as playful as it is protective. He sticks close, making jokes to put you at ease, but his actions speak louder than his words. He’s always a step ahead, ensuring you’re safe and comfortable. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin mischievous, but there’s a softness in his expression that tugs at your heart.

- Later, as the two of you sit around a campfire, Roy’s lighthearted demeanor shifts. “You make me want to be better,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “Not just for me, but for you.” He looks at you, his usual cockiness giving way to raw honesty. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you… you make me feel like maybe I’m not just my screw-ups.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as he takes your hand, his grip is steady, grounding you in his presence.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Koriand’r radiates warmth, her golden skin and vibrant hair glowing like a living sunrise. Today, as she tends to a garden, her movements graceful and deliberate, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven stone beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Koriand’r is there, catching you in her strong, gentle arms. “Oh, are you alright?” she asks, her voice melodic with concern.

- She holds you a moment longer than necessary, her emerald eyes scanning your face. “You must be careful,” she says, her tone earnest. “I would be most distressed if you were harmed.” When you stammer out a reply, her lips curve into a radiant smile. “It is alright,” she says warmly. “I find you quite lovely, even when you stumble.”

- For the rest of the day, Koriand’r’s kindness and attentiveness shine through. She hovers close, her concern evident in the small ways she cares for you—offering a hand when the path is uneven or shielding you from the sun with her body. Her usual exuberance softens in your presence, her laughter quieter, her smiles more intimate. When she catches you looking at her, she tilts her head, her curiosity and affection clear in her gaze.

- Later, as the two of you watch the stars, Koriand’r speaks with heartfelt sincerity. “You are like the stars to me,” she says, her voice soft. “Beautiful, constant, and full of wonder.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “You make me feel at home, no matter where I am. And for that, I am most grateful.” Her words are simple yet profound, her honesty like a balm to your soul.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El is sunlight personified, her optimism and strength radiating wherever she goes. Today, as she helps a group of children with their science project, her laughter ringing like music, you can’t take your eyes off her. So much so that you don’t see the toy car in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Kara is there in a flash, catching you with ease. “Whoa, you okay?” she asks, her voice warm with concern.

- She steadies you, her hands gentle yet strong as she looks you over. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, her blue eyes sparkling. “But hey, if you wanted me to catch you, you just had to ask.” Her playful grin is infectious, but the way her gaze lingers on you feels more serious, like she’s trying to read your heart.

- For the rest of the day, Kara’s attentiveness is as natural as her kindness. She stays close, her presence a constant source of warmth and reassurance. Whether it’s brushing a stray strand of hair from your face or quietly ensuring you’re comfortable, her actions speak of genuine care. When your eyes meet, her smile softens, her usual exuberance giving way to a quiet affection that takes your breath away.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset, Kara’s usual cheerfulness gives way to a deeper sincerity. “You remind me of home,” she says softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Not Krypton, but the feeling of belonging… of being seen.” She turns to you, her eyes shining with emotion. “You make me feel like I can be more than just Supergirl. Like I can just be Kara. And that’s all I want to be… for you.” Her words are heartfelt, and as you take her hand, her smile becomes radiant, like the sun breaking through the clouds.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade Wilson is intensity personified, his every move calculated and deliberate. Today, as he sharpens his sword with precision, his one good eye glinting in the dim light, you can’t help but watch. So much so that you don’t see the step behind you until you stumble. Before you can fall, Slade’s hand shoots out, catching you with a firm grip. “Careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re not as indestructible as I am.”

- He steadies you, his hand lingering on your arm as he looks you over. “What were you thinking, staring off into space like that?” he asks, his tone stern but not unkind. When you mutter an excuse, he smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were distracted by me.” His teasing is subtle, but the way his gaze lingers on you is anything but.

- For the rest of the day, Slade’s protectiveness is quiet but unmistakable. He stays close, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. His usual cold demeanor softens ever so slightly when he speaks to you, his words less biting, his tone less harsh. When your eyes meet, there’s a flicker of something softer—something he tries to hide but can’t quite suppress.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the quiet of the night, Slade surprises you with his honesty. “You’re a distraction,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “But for some reason, I don’t mind.” He looks at you, his gaze intense. “You make me remember what it’s like to care about something—someone. And that’s dangerous for a man like me.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who rarely lets his guard down.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent Nelson is an enigma, a man who carries the wisdom of ages and the burden of Fate’s mantle. His presence is serene, almost otherworldly, and you can’t help but be drawn to him. Today, as he consults an ancient tome, his golden helm gleaming in the soft light, you’re so captivated that you trip over a stray book on the floor. Before you can hit the ground, a soft golden glow surrounds you, suspending you mid-air. “Careful,” Kent says, his voice calm and measured as he gently sets you upright.

- He steps closer, his eyes searching yours with quiet concern. “Are you alright?” he asks, his tone as soothing as his magic. When you nod, he offers a small, almost shy smile. “Good. The world has enough chaos without adding unnecessary injuries.” There’s a warmth in his gaze that contrasts with his usual stoicism, a glimpse of the man behind the sorcerer’s mask.

- Throughout the day, Kent’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. He uses his magic to clear your path, his golden aura flickering softly whenever you’re near. His presence is calming, like the eye of a storm, and his rare smiles feel like small treasures meant just for you. When he looks at you, it’s as if he sees not just who you are, but who you could be—a potential that even you may not fully understand.

- Later, in the quiet of the Tower of Fate, Kent speaks with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve spent so much of my life serving the balance of the universe,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “But you… you remind me of what it means to simply be human.” He steps closer, his gaze steady and sincere. “You ground me in a way I didn’t think possible. And for that, I am grateful.” His words carry the weight of millennia, and as you reach out, his hand meets yours with a tenderness that feels timeless.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel Roth is a mystery, her dark aura both alluring and intimidating. Today, as she meditates in the corner of the room, her violet eyes closed in quiet concentration, you can’t help but be drawn to her. So much so that you trip over the edge of a rug, your balance faltering. Before you can hit the ground, a soft black energy wraps around you, setting you upright. “Careful,” Rachel says, her voice quiet but steady. “You should watch where you’re going.”

- She looks at you, her gaze calm but curious. “Were you distracted?” she asks, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. When you nod, her lips quirk into a faint smile. “Well, try not to make a habit of it,” she says, her voice softening. “I might not always be here to catch you.” Her words are teasing, but the warmth in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

- For the rest of the day, Rachel’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. She stays close, her dark energy occasionally brushing against you in moments of quiet reassurance. Her usual aloofness softens in your presence, her sarcasm tempered by moments of unexpected kindness. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her faint smile making you wonder if she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the glow of candlelight, Rachel surprises you with her vulnerability. “You’re different,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… calm. Like I don’t have to fight so hard to keep the darkness at bay.” She looks at you, her gaze steady but shy. “You make me feel like maybe I can be more than what I was born into.” Her words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, her faint smile grows, her walls lowering just a little more.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- Zatanna’s presence is mesmerizing, her every movement imbued with an effortless elegance that feels like magic itself. Today, as she performs a small spell to entertain the group, her voice lilting as she speaks backward, you find yourself utterly entranced. So much so that you don’t see the loose rug beneath your feet. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Zatanna whispers a quick incantation, and you find yourself suspended in mid-air, gently uprighted by invisible hands. “Careful, darling,” she says, her tone playful. “Magic works better when you’re standing.”

- She steps closer, her sapphire eyes sparkling with concern and mischief. “Were you distracted, perhaps?” she teases, her lips curving into a knowing smile. When you stammer out an excuse, she chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it as a compliment.” There’s a flicker of something more in her gaze, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

- For the rest of the day, Zatanna’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. Whether it’s conjuring a chair for you before you realize you need one or creating a small shield of magic to block an errant gust of wind, she seems to anticipate your needs before you do. Her usual theatrics are softened when she’s with you, her laughter quieter, her gestures more intimate. Every time your eyes meet, it feels like she’s casting a spell meant just for you.

- Later, under the moonlit sky, Zatanna’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re the one thing I can’t pull out of a hat,” she says softly, her voice laced with vulnerability. “You make me feel… real. Not just a magician, not just a performer. Just Zatanna.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “And that, my dear, is the most magical thing of all.”

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally West is pure energy, his enthusiasm and humor as infectious as his speed. Today, as he zips around the room, a blur of red and gold, you can’t help but laugh. You’re so distracted that you don’t see the chair leg in your path until it’s too late. Before you can fall, Wally appears beside you in an instant, catching you with a grin. “Whoa there, beautiful,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “Need me to slow down for you?”

- He steadies you, his hands firm but gentle. “You okay?” he asks, his green eyes sparkling with concern and amusement. When you nod, he flashes a playful smirk. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d never forgive myself.” His words are light, but the way he looks at you is anything but.

- For the rest of the day, Wally’s attention is as quick as his reflexes. He’s always there before you need him, whether it’s catching a falling object or pulling out a chair for you before you sit. His usual cockiness softens in your presence, his jokes more thoughtful, his smiles more genuine. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin wide and unapologetic.

- Later, as the two of you walk along a quiet path, Wally’s humor gives way to sincerity. “You’re my favorite kind of distraction,” he admits, his voice soft. “You make me want to slow down, to savor every moment.” He looks at you, his gaze open and earnest. “You’re the one thing in my life that feels like it’s moving at the right speed.” His words are heartfelt, and as you take his hand, he smiles, his usual energy tempered by a quiet contentment.

Dinah Lance aka. Black Canary

- Dinah Lance is a whirlwind of strength and elegance, her confidence as striking as her Canary Cry. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she moves effortlessly through the crowd, her laughter ringing like music, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the edge of the stage until you trip. Before you can fall, Dinah is there, catching you with a grace that takes your breath away. “Easy there,” she says, her voice warm with concern. “Are you okay?”

- Her hands linger on your arms as she steadies you, her blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, though her tone is soft. “But hey, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Her playful smile is disarming, but the way her gaze lingers on you hints at something deeper.

- For the rest of the evening, Dinah’s protectiveness is evident in the smallest gestures. She keeps an arm around your shoulder in crowded spaces and subtly positions herself between you and any potential hazards. Her usual fiery confidence is tempered by a quiet warmth whenever she looks at you. It’s in the way her laughter softens when you’re near and the way her touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary.

- Later, under the glow of city lights, Dinah’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re something special, you know that?” she says, her voice soft but firm. “In a world full of noise, you’re the one thing that makes sense.” She steps closer, her hand brushing yours. “I’ve been through a lot, but you… you make me feel like it’s all worth it.” Her words are raw and heartfelt, and as you smile, she pulls you into a gentle embrace, her touch as fierce and tender as the woman herself.

Victor Stone aka. Cyborg

- Victor Stone is a balance of humanity and technology, his heart as strong as the metal that encases him. Today, as he works on a new project, his focus sharp and unwavering, you can’t help but admire his determination. So much so that you don’t notice the stray cable on the floor until it’s too late. You trip, but before you can hit the ground, a mechanical arm catches you effortlessly. “Gotcha,” Victor says, his voice warm despite the metallic undertone. “You okay?”

- He steadies you, his human hand brushing against yours as he checks for injuries. “You’ve gotta watch your step,” he says, his tone half-teasing. “But hey, if you needed an excuse to get close, you didn’t have to trip.” His grin is disarming, but the way his eyes linger on you speaks of genuine concern—and something more.

- For the rest of the day, Victor is quietly attentive. He adjusts the environment to make things easier for you, whether it’s dimming a too-bright light or creating a comfortable space for you to sit. His usual confidence is softened when he’s with you, his gestures thoughtful and deliberate. When he catches you looking at him, his smile becomes a little shy, a rare vulnerability that makes your heart flutter.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the soft glow of his lab, Victor opens up in a way he rarely does. “Sometimes, it’s hard to feel human,” he admits, his voice low and introspective. “But you… you make me feel like I’m more than circuits and metal. Like I’m enough.” He looks at you, his gaze steady and earnest. “You see me for who I am, and that… that means everything.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he takes your hand.

Shayera Hol aka. Hawkgirl

- Shayera Hol is a force of nature, her strength and fiery spirit unmatched. Today, as she spars with another hero, her mace gleaming in the sunlight, you’re captivated by her sheer presence. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Shayera is there, catching you with a warrior’s precision. “Careful,” she says, her voice firm but laced with concern. “The ground isn’t as forgiving as I am.”

- She steadies you with surprising gentleness, her intense gaze softening as she looks you over. “You okay?” she asks, her tone quieter now. When you nod, she smirks. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d have to hunt down whatever tripped you.” Her teasing tone is matched by the warmth in her eyes, a flicker of affection that catches you off guard.

- Throughout the day, Shayera’s protectiveness is both fierce and subtle. She walks close enough to shield you from potential hazards, her wing occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Her usual intensity softens in your presence, her sharp wit tempered by moments of quiet affection. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her smirk daring you to look away—but you never do.

- Later, as the two of you sit beneath the stars, Shayera’s tough exterior cracks just a little. “You make me feel… different,” she admits, her voice low and thoughtful. “Like I don’t always have to fight. Like I can just be.” She looks at you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’re the one thing in this world I’d fight for, not because I have to, but because I want to.” Her words are raw, her honesty breathtaking, and when you smile, she relaxes, her smirk returning as she leans closer.

[cryptonymdc]

What you Suspect (You don’t suspect they are the heros, but you hope the heros are something like them.)

Superman | Clark Kent 

It’s hard to think that Clark Kent could be Superman. 

It’s not that they are incomparable. Same hair, same eyes, same build. But there is something that makes Clark Kent so much more real to you than Superman. By no means do you think Superman is a hack, or a fake, but he’s not a hero because you’ve met him. He’s a hero because he saves people, and that’s enough. 

Clark Kent is kind in a tangible way. He holds doors open, not just for you, but everyone. More times than you can count Clark has gotten stuck holding the door open for a train of people rushing in, and he just laughs it off with an understanding smile. His eyes are always sincere whenever you surprise him at work with his lunch or just a friendly visit, his face flushing with bashfulness, but still smiling bright as the sun and giving you a tight hug. 

And speaking of work, Clark is fearless in a way you think most heroes might not be. Heroes go into battle armed, prepared, and ready. They tackle consequences because they know they can take it, at least you hope they can. But Clark… he goes into work armed with his pen and paper, in a suit with no armor, and regardless of consequences. Because he can, wants to, and it’s the right thing. 

He writes article after article exposing organized crime, blue collar crime, and more. He exposes people not in tight costumes, but people with guns and lawyers, people who would come after him for this. But he does it anyway, and perhaps that's braver than Superman, you think. Not better, but braver. There isn’t really a better in a selfless act, and both are. 

Clark does a lot of things like that. In scary moments, when danger is near, he stands in front of you. He stops hunching over, and makes himself the biggest thing in the room, the biggest target, and shields anybody he can even though he knows he could get hurt. He’s brave. 

You don’t think Clark Kent could be Superman, because why would he need to be? He already is kind, and courteous. He already fights crime in his actual job. He already protects people without hesitation. He doesn't need to be Superman, he’s already a hero to you. 

But you think, if Superman is the question, you hope is somebody like Clark. You hope he isn’t some guy who gets off on the fame, and the compliments, and instead is saving people because he can, for the sake of doing the right thing. You hope he’s as kind as Clark, as real as him. 

You don’t think Clark Kent is Superman, but you hope Superman is something like Clark Kent. 

Batman | Bruce Wayne 

It’s difficult to think that Bruce Wayne is Batman. 

The Batman is a local legend, a myth with a few too many pieces of evidence. You’ve never seen the Batman, you’ve never talked to him. The reports of him vary, from wildly terrifying to kinder than god. You don’t know the Batman. 

But you know Bruce Wayne, you like to think you know him more than most. You know him beyond the ‘Brucie’ persona, the bumbling idiot the public sees. 

You know the Bruce Wayne who spends hours at night doing work to make sure his company is doing good, honest work. And you’ve sat with him, either on his couch, in a chair pulled up, or even on his lap, just keeping him company. And he is really working, he’s a hard worker. He’s checking employee complaints and surveys, trying to make it a better workplace. 

And the amount of time you’ve spent on Bruce’s arm at a Gala as he tries to sweet talk the 1% into donating to any charity, not even just his, but any is beyond measure. You maybe get a dance or two out of him, before he is off playing the room to try and guide them to good, to do better. 

He’s not oblivious to the world, either. You watch the news with him in the mornings, listening to radio articles as you two do your morning routine. You two talk about it, you engage with it. Not just platitudes about the way the world fails and falls apart, but things you could do to change it, to do better. You two talk about the events, you debate the morals, the sides, etc. 

Bruce Wayne isn’t just an idiot, but he’s also a hard worker, principled, and present. 

And, he’s so sweet, and adorable, and dorky, all the time. He calls to check in on you, ask you how your day is, if you're staying safe. Gotham is a helluva city to live in. He smiles at you, even when you’re not looking. He just enjoys being with you, even if it’s in silence. You two have fallen asleep on the couch watching the news more times than you can count. 

So why would you think that your sweet, hard working boyfriend is a possibly made up vigilante? 

No, you don’t suspect a thing. But if the Batman is real, if he’s out there, please let him be a man like Bruce Wayne. Someone with principles, who’s willing to work to upkeep them. 

It’s a lot of work, being Batman or Bruce Wayne, hopefully he’s up to the challenge. 

The Flash | Barry Allen 

It feels odd to think that Barry Allen might be the Flash. 

The only thing you can really see that they have in common is a sense of humour. But beyond that, the Flash is far too fast to get a good look at. There's neither enough evidence to support he is the Flash, and not enough evidence to fully disprove it. That’s the trick with speedesters, they’re hard to catch. 

So like any normal person in Central City, unless you’ve been right next to them and saw the Flash at the same time, anyone could be the Flash. It’s normal to let passing thoughts be hypothetical hypotheses on who the red blur could be. So of course you’ve pondered whether or not Barry could be the Flash. 

But it just feels weird, because the Flash seems so unserious. It’s not that Barry doesn’t know how to joke, but he’s so much more serious in dire situations. Sometimes he gets so caught up in work in the lab that you can’t reach him, he’s just so focused on cracking the case and finding the forensic clues. 

Barry laughs all the time, and really does have a familiar sense of humor, but it’s so endearing when he does it. He’s laughing with you, not at you like the Flash does for his villains. But that begs the question doesn’t it. You’re not a villain. Why would Barry treat you like one, if he was the Flash? It’s not really a distinction between their sense of humor when the two situations are so different. 

But you don’t think about it for long. It just feels odd. It’s like you're missing the last key bit of information, that would anchor all your thoughts to one answer. You just can’t seem to catch the whole picture. 

Barry is not shy nor nervous, but he doesn’t exude the smug confidence that the Flash does. But… on a certain level, if you consider it, they do the same thing. They both fight crime, they both solve mysteries, and they both work to make Central City safer. Barry does only have nice things to say about the Flash, save a few existential comments on the terrifying implications of increased metabolism and also getting stuck going full speed, Barry is a fan of the Flash. 

Still. It’s just odd. Barry and the Flash are more alike than they seem at first glance, and that’s an odd thought, isn’t it?

[artyandink]

their song (‘70s special.ᐟ) .ᐟ.ᐟ

↳ SYNOPSIS: smallville’s own hurricane, inherently magical couple happened to be WES and BETTY. star quarterback, party queen and head cheerleader who were both hopeless romantics so long as they were on each other’s minds, and trust everyone who knew them— their minds never left each other. everyone was sure that they’d get hitched someday or another.

↳ PAIRING(S): wes x betty

↳ RADIO STATION:

↳ until I found you by stephen sanchez

↳ you are in love by taylor swift

↳ say you won’t let go by james arthur

wanna meet everyone again .ᐣ.ᐟ click here

Wes, well, he was the talk of ‘70s Smallville High, king of the hall, the Crows’ star quarterback, the senior who melted people with his smile, the man madly in love with Betty. She was his eye’s apple, the school’s rave queen, party animal, farm girl and the girl who was madly in love with him. And to think it’d been love at first sight over from one side of the hallway to another, and it’d resulted in the town’s it couple and the main candidates for prom king and queen.

A dream.

Smallville High’s car wash was to rake in money to facilitate the Torch and other things in school, and it was a sea of girls dressed for the summer heat and guys parked in cars, and Wes was paying it a visit, to see Betty, who was doing it as well. Nothing like seeing your girlfriend all damp, right?

He couldn’t help his grin upon seeing her through his sunglasses, all soakin’ and wearing his varsity jacket— which is probably where it went after he woke up without it. God, she was so pretty, so gorgeous— he might be biased, sure, but that’s what happens when you have a girlfriend as awesome as he did. He swore he’d gonna put a ring on that beautiful finger of hers someday.

“Hey, there, baby.” He grinned, sweeping her up into his arms and spinning her around despite the headache, kissing her deeply, hand feeling up the dip in her lower back. Oh, god, Betty, she had him in a chokehold, one that he didn’t want to get out of.

“I was told y’ were here.” Wes smirked, putting her down and brushing the damp hair out of her face— he couldn’t care less that she was damp from the car washing. But he gave her a grin, a look of adoration in his eyes, cause it felt like all of the world’s worries just faded away when he saw her.

If there was a person who could ever ground Wes and set him free at the same time, it was his baby Betty.

“Just doin’ my bit.” Betty giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, in his favourite bikini top and shorts with sneakers, and he wasn’t complaining against the view when it was all wrapped up like a present in his jacket.

He snickered at that, resting his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “My lil’ worker bee,” he teased, grinning, before he glanced down at the bikini top and the shorts, his brows raising at her taste in fashion, before he had to fight the urge to run his hands over her thighs. God, did she always look so good? “Lookin’ good, baby.” God, sometimes it’s hard to believe that she was all his; sweet, gorgeous, witty and just utterly perfect.

“Feelin’ good, handsome.” She replied with a smirk and a wink, that’s his girl. “All the girls had to dress up like this, attracts more clientele. And by that I mean guys.”

His smirk matched her smirk perfectly, and he snorted when she called him handsome, bringing her flush against him, feeling the warmth of her skin, her body pressed against his, and god, it was more than enough to make his head spin.

“Baby,” he murmured, grinning at her. “You know you don’t gotta do anything to attract the guys, sweetheart. Everyone in Smallville already has their eye on you.”

“Shame I’ve already got a man on my arm, then.” She hummed, trailing a finger down his cheek. “Doesn’t give the other poor fellas a chance, hm?”

“How does your man taking you for a trip behind the sports shed sound?” Wes’ eyebrows waggled, raising an eyebrow— as if Betty didn’t know that the outdoor sports shed was a prime hookup spot for couples at Smallville High, even out of school hours.

Betty was about to roll her as she stepped away and prepped a ‘foul-minded’ quip at the tip of her tongue… had it not been for Wes grabbing her hand and tugging gently, bringing her back to him so he could sweep her up into his arms— bridal style, of course.

“Sorry, Martha.” He laughed, spinning her around amid her half-hearted protests and full-hearted laughs. “Gotta steal my lady for a bit, m’sure you won’t miss her.” With a wink and a click of his tongue, he was going full steam ahead to the sports shed.

Ah, young love.

𝒇𝒊𝒏 ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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[c-cha-cheust]

that clark hickey qns got me thinking fr. i think it wouldnt be possible cause he can only be hurt by like kryptonite but the thought evolved into questioning whether clark wld be a masochist and likes when reader toys with a kryptonite near him… like IMAGINE the potential

-🦊 anon

In the notes, myself and two of my lovely freaks theorized that a kryptonite lipstick would be the preferred method in putting your mark on a super.

(Also Clark is a masochist, I think canonically. In the comic Action Comics v1 1051 (2023) Jon accidently finds superman's War World outfit in Louis and Clark’s closet, with Lois quickly shutting the closet door and reminding him about privacy. (pic for reference) Plus he's cononically married to LOIS LANE. You know shes pegging him)

While doing some extra research for this ask, I was learning about kryptonite and what the different colors do right? (I learned that black Kryptonite can split a kryptonian in two different entities, good and evil, and that pink kryptonite can swap a kryptonians gender.) I might have to create my own version of kryptonite just for fanfic purposes. Like a teal green that weakens them.

Okay okay but hear me out, kryptonite infused handcuffs? You can cuff him to the bed and have your way with him, sure he might break the bedfame the cuffs are attached to but he’s not breaking out of the cuffs without a key.

Imagine clark finally being able to not have to worry about hurting someone? Finally being weakened enough to be vulnerable? He’s almost in tears it feels so nice. No bad thoughts about possibly crushing you, or losing control of his heat vision or nothing.

Just clark being edged to his breaking point with no consequences.

I like to imagine that his partner is a scientists that created this type of kryptonite just for him. It’s hot seeing your alien god of a partner begging you to please let them cum, knowing that because of your creation, a god can do nothing but beg a mortal for mercy.

Unfortunately for him, the mortal that he chose isn’t merciful.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

time to write about kissing clark like the world depends on it

[patdkoala]

Just "Friends"

Clark and I are close and I mean really close. We aren't like him, Chloe, Lex, or even Lana or Pete. We were close like with no one else in the universe.

We talked about everything together, and it honestly made me feel so good to have someone like that in my life. Clark always knew what to say to make me feel better.

Today I was with Chloe and Lana. Because yes, Clark is like my other half but sometimes you just need to have a true heart-to-heart with the girls. Chloe has a crush on this new guy at our school and she wants to ask him to the school dance. She called me and Lana and had us come over to discuss how she should go about this whole asking-a-boy-out thing.

"I really wanna take this thing head on!" She exclaimed while Lana did her hair. Lana gave me a smirk as I rolled my eyes from Chloe's bed where I sat reading one of her many books that she had sitting in a pile next to her bed.

"And how exactly do you plan on taking this thing head-on exactly? Aren't you just going to go up to him in class and ask him to the dance?" Lana asked as she brushed through Chloe's short hair.

"I just want to make sure I make it obvious to him that I like him because the worst-case scenario is that we end up like Clark and (Y/N)," Chloe said as she and Lana looked over at me and set the book down after hearing my name.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked as Chloe and Lana smirked at each other as if they had now switched the conversation over to be directed towards me now.

"We see how Clark and you make eyes at each other," Lana said as I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on! You're one to talk. You and Clark are basically the two with the most chemistry in this whole freaking town," I said as I fully sat up and gave the two my full attention.

Lana seemed baffled by my accusation. "Don't look at me like that! I know Clark and you like each other. It's no big deal. Honestly. Clark and I are just friends." I don't know why but as I said those words I felt tears pooling in my eyes somehow.

I quickly wiped those away laid back down and picked back up the book. "I say tell him how you feel," Lana said as we heard Chloe's bedroom door open and in walked Clark. "Tell who how you feel?" He asked as I sat up and saw his perfect baby blues staring right back at me like he was Prince Charming himself.

Every time I would lock eyes with Clark I felt like I was looking into the eyes of a sweet little puppy that had just opened it's eyes for the first time. I know that that sounds crazy and sappy but honestly that is how Clark made me feel.

"Chloe should tell that guy in our lit class that she likes him and wants to go to the dance with him. That's all we were talking about. Nothing else," I said as Clark went over and sat down next to me on Chloe's bed.

"Well, Chloe if you like him then yeah go for it. Tell him how you feel as Lana said." "Yeah, like I said," Lana said as she looked over at me knowing that she was directing all of that towards me.

"Lana who are yuo going to the dance with?" I asked trying to change the subject. I quickly regretted that choice because I saw the way Clark's ears turned red at the mention of Lana going to a school dance potentially she would say she didn't have anyone she was going with and he would thinnk that that meant she needs him to go with.

That was the problem with Clark. He always thought Lana needed him not that she wanted him. I mean she might. I don't know entirely because all I knew was that I wanted him and could nevr have him because he doesn't want or need me in his life half as much as I'm already in it.

"Oh, I uh. I was going to go with Whitney," She said as I watched the color drain from his ears and he laid down as I had before. Lana was almost done with Chloe's hair and I was almost done with this book so I slumped back right there next to Clark on Chloe's bed.

Lana and Chloe were chit-chatting about some more nonsense from school and boys that they think would be a good match for Chloe if this one guy doesn't pan out.

Clark and I were lying back on Chloe's bed in complete silence. This was one of those moments where I found myself truly happy. The fact that Clark and I were able to lay in complete silence like that without it being the most awkward thing in the universe was amazing.

I looked at him and he was staring at the ceiling. He always looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. It worried me that he could possibly be stressing about things that he doesn't tell me. I was certain that he told me everything so when he looked like this I assumed that there was something he was keeping from me to protect me because why else would he not tell me.

But this made me begin to worry that it was something having to do with his feelings towards Lana thta made him not talk to me about them.

Eventually, Chloe and Lana headed out to the Talon to find the guy so Chloe could have a chance at asking him out before class tomorrow and that left me and Clark to leave and go find something else to do since we were just background characters to Chloe's big day today.

"We can go back to the barn and watch a movie or something at my place if you want. My mom is making pasta for dinner,"Clark said as I smiled and then followed him to his truck outside.

I've always noticed the little thing s in movies and books where the guys would open doors and be extra polite to the female characters. Especially if they liked them in any way romantically.

Clark never treated me like that in anyway at all.

The entire drive home I was so quiet. I guess I was just overthinking my whole life which I tended to do when I was alone but never in the same rom as someone else. I felt Clark's eyes on me as he pulled into his driveway.

"What?" I asked as he parked and unbuckled himself. "Are you okay? You seemed a little quiet that whole ride. Is there something wrong? You know you can tell me, (Y/N). Always." He was always so sinsiere and kind to me.

"Yeah. I'm fine I guess I was just thinking about the dance." "Oh? Is there a special someone that asked you?" I shook my head no in my response to his silly question.

"Then what were you thinking about in regards to the dance?" I smiled and he smiled back. "Don't give me that bullshit smile because I know you are covering up something. What's wrong, (Y/N)?"

"Why won't you ask me to the dance?" I just blurted it out. I don't think I meant to but I just really wanted to know the answer.

"Woah. Where's this coming from?" He asked as he then opened his truck door and got out. I unbuckled myself and followed suit. He walked towards his house where the closer we got the more we could smell the pasta dinner his mom was making.

"I just wanted to know if you didn't ask me because you maybe see me as a sister or if you didn't ask me because you genuinly hate me."

"I Don't hate you, (Y/N)," He said as he stopped right in front of his house. We were so close to the door that I'm almost 100% sure that his parents could hear us if they even happened to be in the kitchen.

"If you don't hate me then it's the first option. You see me as a sister?" "What? No! I-" "Well then what the hell Clark why won't you just tell me how you feel instead of expecting me to do all the talking it's not like I'm exactly the most-"

He kissed me.

"Do you ever just shut up?" He said quietly into my mouth. His eyes were closed and his hand was around my head holding me close to him.

"Why have you never done something like this before?" I asked as I pushed him away because I had to remind myself that I was still mad at him.

"You always made me so comfortable around you and you're right you did always the majority of the talking that I didn't feel the need to be very affectionate myself. I've always liked you but-" "But you like Lana. I know." I looked down at the ground and avoided his eyes.

He used his finger to make me look up at him. Those beautiful baby blues were staring back at me all over again and I felt like I was melting.

"I liked Lana. Yes, that's true. But when I'm alone with her nothing compares to when I'm alone with you. Being with you- I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. It is the most comfortable I have ever been in the history of my life. I always feel like I'm trying to save everyone but you don't make me feel like that. You let me just be and I love it. I love you, (Y/N)."

"Just shut the hell up and kiss me again," I demanded as he pulled me in and kissed me again on his front porch. Then as if it never happened, we went inside and he opened the door for me which was very new to me.

His mom and dad were sitting at the table smiling ear-to-ear when we walked in.

"Glad to hear you kids made up," Johnathan said as I got red in my cheeks and I looked over at Clark who's ears were red again.

[guardian-of-fun-times]

Clark Kent’s broad hand rests firmly on your abdomen, his fingers pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to feel every inch of himself moving inside you. The contact grounds you, but it also drives him further into a frenzy. The way your body reacts beneath his touch only seems to ignite something deeper within him, unraveling the usual restraint he’s so known for.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place with a strength that feels both protective and possessive. Each thrust is deliberate yet increasingly erratic, as if he’s losing himself more with every passing moment. His breath is hot and ragged against your neck, the sound of his low, needy groans filling the room as his composure shatters entirely.

His voice trembles, raw and unfiltered, breaking through the haze of pleasure. “God, please—I need to be deeper inside you,” he chokes out, his tone laced with desperation and reverence. “Please, let me—please…”

His words are almost incoherent, a reflection of how completely consumed he is by the sensation of being with you, the connection between you both too overwhelming to hold back. His hand on your abdomen presses a little harder, as though anchoring himself in the moment, his desire to feel every ripple of your body heightening his own need until nothing else exists but this.