#dc superman

[ledesaid]

Billy body-swaps #3

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He feels it's important, he feels the box between his fingers is very important... perhaps it's an incipient feeling in the body of his host.

The feeling worsens when he sees a red-haired woman enter the cafeteria.

His nerves are more agitated than they should be, and he tries to open the box, hoping that whatever is inside will give him some explanation for the sea of foreign nerves.

Is a small velvet box so hard to open?

How does it open?

And it is already too late; she has sat down, and the small box finally opens, fortunately away from the lady's gaze.

~Will you marry me?~

Holy Molly! This is indeed a problem.

...: So, what did you want to tell me?

Billy: I... Am...

Iris: Breathe, today I don't have to run for a news story... Is everything alright, Barry?

Billy: I-I think I need to go to the bathroom, sorry.

Definitely, if he was giving that excuse, quickly leaving the cafeteria didn't help his host...

Billy: I'm really sorry, Barry! I really didn't mean to! She seems like a good girl, I'm sure she'll forgive you!

Billy tries to run to cross the street, but he doesn't expect to crash into a wall and pass out.

He also doesn't expect to wake up at the Watchtower.

He rubs his face, feeling small cramps but apparently no bruises, he celebrates for himself.

Billy: Nothing hurts... I would swear I crashed.

John: You really did, it was a hit at one hundred sixty kilometers per hour, you're lucky to heal quickly and not have broken your skull.

Billy: Green Lantern... Am I Flash, right?

Billy slightly tilts his head in confusion.

John: Did you hit yourself really hard?

Billy: I think so... I didn't expect to be thrown. Can Barry run without being a roadrunner?

John: I think it's practice, he's been doing it for years, I forgot it's Sunday... you must be Marvel, right?

Billy: Bingo! Please tell Flash I'm sorry for ruining his marriage proposal.

John: Poor Barry. He'll cry about this.

╣╣╣╣╣╣╣

Part 1 | Part 2 | U are here | Part 4 | Part 5

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎclark when you're stressed౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

On a good day, you didn't like to be in your head for too long. On a day like today, too many hours with yourself could be catastrophic.

Your arms were folded over a messy stack of papers, handwriting smudged, fresh ink staining your arms. The cool of your keyboard under your elbow was the only sense you were aware of. Whenever you were stumped, your hair was often the victim, and it resulted in painful brushing every night. Today was no exception.

The only light in the room was from the city through your window. You'd relied on the sun for most of the day, but your own frustration had caused you to give up and slump forward to your desk until it set, the room full of more shadows than anything.

Consulting your brain, you tried to make yourself get up to no avail. For the past two weeks, you'd been able to convince yourself but today it wasn't working. Frustration had you nearly vibrating, and you felt nearly faint. You'd been in a slump for weeks now, and it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Had you finally run yourself dry? Were you fresh out of ideas now, doomed to live off your former genius forever?

The doorknob rattled, keys jangling against it, but you didn't move. He'd find you eventually- he always did.

"Baby?" Footsteps clunked closer, muffled by his lack of shoes. "Hey- are you okay?"

Your answer was an unintelligible mumble.

"Ohh, hey..." Big, warm hand on your back. You instantly felt better. "Do you want to take a break?"

"I can't," you said dryly. "I have a deadline."

"You're worn out, huh?" Clark traced circles into your back, gathering your hair and smoothing it out. "Baby, let's put this away and-"

"No!" You sat up, folding your arms as tears began to spring into your eyes. Clark's pretty blue eyes were wide at your outburst, but he didn't react otherwise. You were too worked up to admire how adorable he looked, glasses slightly askew, curls and tie a little messy. "I can't. I've been trying all day to write and I can't come up with anything and I've wasted so much time figuring it out and I just...just..."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, "Just what, honey?"

You sniffled. "I don't know how to write anymo-ore." The last word trailed off into a cry, and Clark sat up straight, bringing you to lean against him. Your hands flew to his shoulders, clutching his shirt, but then trying to lean away. Tears and wrinkles would ruin the fabric.

"C'mere," he mumbled, bringing you right back to him. "It's okay." Clark paused. "Actually-" He stood up, big hands settling on your hips to lift you up, positioning you on his hip like a baby. You didn't fight it, tightening your legs around him and hiding your face in his neck. Even when he began to exit the room, you remained silent, letting him sit you on the kitchen counter. When you looked at him, his expression was soft, eyes concerned. He reached out, rubbing his warm hands over your thighs. Mercifully he didn't yet mention all you'd said. "How long's it been since you've eaten, sweet girl?"

"Umm." You tried to recall, swaying ever so slightly.

He nodded, tucking your hair behind your ears and brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones for a moment. "Can I make us something?" He asked so softly that you were nodding before the question was fully asked. Clark kissed your forehead, squeezing your thighs. "Okay. I'm gonna go change really quick, okay? Stay here."

You nodded, leaning your head back to rest on the cabinet while he went off into the other room. Indeed, it felt like no sooner than he'd left, he reappeared in just a sweatshirt and his boxers. Lip trembling again, you reached for him, and he obliged, lifting you back to sit on his hip with an "Alright, sweetheart. What're you in the mood for?"

Mumbling into his neck, you shook your head and he squeezed your side. "I know. But you've gotta eat something, angel." Clark opened the fridge one handed, peering inside. "Hmm. We should get groceries tomorrow, huh?" He shut the door and secured both arms around you. "How's pizza sound? We can get garlic bread." When your tummy grumbled, he smiled. "We'll get it from the place down the street."

Clark sat carefully down on the couch, shifting sideways so he was lying across it. While he dialed the number, he pressed his hand to your lower back, smiling when you sprawled yourself out on top of him.

As he placed the order for delivery, you smiled at the way his deep voice felt vibrating against you. This was the sound of home. He kept a hand on your back until he hung up, setting his phone aside and somehow snuggling you closer, letting his hand trail under your shirt and warming your back. "Pizza will be here soon."

"Mm," you sighed, cozy on his chest. You didn't know what you would do sometimes if you didn't have a big, warm man to lay on. Already, your mind was going fuzzy, and not in the way it'd been all day. No, with Clark it was more like you didn't need to have a survival instinct because he was there. He'd keep you safe.

When the food came, he gently eased you off to answer the door, and you hid under your fluffy blanket while he did. The smell of the specialty from the place Clark had ordered from tickled your nose, and your mood lightened even more. He'd known exactly what you wanted when you didn't.

"Sweetie?" You lifted the blanket to see him setting two boxes on the coffee table.

Springing to sit up, you watched as he opened the box to the glorious sight of fresh pizza. The garlic bread was somehow an even happier sight.

"There's my happy girl," he smiled as you reached for a slice. Clark settled in next to you with a piece of his own, and you cuddled happily into him, feeling miles away from where you were when he found you.

The two of you were quiet as you ate, and when you'd polished off the food, you were snuggling back into him. Clark positioned his arm around you, pulling you to lay back on his chest. "You feeling better?"

"Mhm," you hummed happily, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "I was just frustrated."

"You just needed some food, huh, cutie?" Clark smiled, kissing your head and pressing you to his side.

"Yeah," you giggled, nuzzling your head into him. He kissed your forehead, bringing the blanket over the two of you again.

"No more working for the rest of today, alright?" he mumbled, pulling your legs over his lap. "You've done so much, baby."

"Not really," you mumbled, but still you let him pull you in, make you forget about all that had ailed you previously.

And cuddled into him, it was harder to remember than not.

[battinscnz]

𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent, SuperBat

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 39,038 (10/10)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Bruce Wayne (The Batman) , Clark Kent (Superman), SuperBat, Bruce/Clark, Pattinson!Batman, Corenswet!Superman, Alternative Universe - Human

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Eventual Smut, Grief/Parental Loss

In Metropolis, flower shop owner Clark Kent forms an unexpected connection with Bruce Wayne, the enigmatic tattoo artist who opens a studio across the street. As their bond deepens into something more than friendship, Bruce struggles to keep his dark past from threatening their fragile relationship. Together, they must navigate love, trust, and the shadows that refuse to let go.

(The story was/were complete inspired by the artwork created by @day-dream-fever)

𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 // 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

A few months had passed, and with the changing of seasons, the chill of winter melted into the tender warmth of spring. It was early April now, the air fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, and Bruce found himself on the Kent farm, surrounded by the quiet hum of nature. 

It was a world apart from the noise of Metropolis or the shadows of Gotham, and every time Bruce came here, he felt an odd but welcome sense of peace.

Clark had invited him along to restock his flower shop, as he often did when the farm’s blooms were at their peak. Martha Kent’s garden was a masterpiece in itself, her careful tending resulting in a kaleidoscope of flowers in every shade imaginable. 

It wasn’t just about business—Clark loved supporting his parents’ small family operation, and it was easy to see why. 

Over the months, Bruce had come to understand just how much heart and soul went into the Kent farm. Every bloom, every petal, every blade of grass told a story of care, patience, and love.

Bruce leaned against the porch railing, watching Clark and Martha in the distance. 

Clark was crouched among the rows of flowers, carefully inspecting each one before adding it to the growing collection in his basket. 

His face was lit with that easy, boyish smile Bruce adored, his laughter carrying softly on the breeze as Martha teased him about taking too long to choose. It was a side of Clark that Bruce cherished deeply—the earnestness, the way he found joy in the simplest things. 

It made Bruce love him even more with each passing day.

The memories of the past months filled Bruce’s mind as he stood there. 

Spending Christmas and New Year’s in Smallville with the Kents had been a revelation. The small town's charm, the warmth of Martha and Jonathan’s home, and the sheer simplicity of it all—it was unlike anything Bruce had experienced in years. 

The holidays had been filled with quiet moments by the fire, homemade meals that left Bruce wondering how he’d ever gone without Martha’s cooking, and a sense of belonging he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Martha and Jonathan had become important to him in ways he hadn’t expected. 

[tarta-de-limon]

I had to join 💀

I don't think you want to see him again, Dami...

Edit: I FORGOT THE "INTO A COOKIE" NOOO

[night0rchlds]

“thank you dan mora” we all say in unison

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[little2nerdy]

as someone who once had a single parent who was dating i kind of imagine dick having some interactions with clark after he starts dating bruce that go something like this

bruce: so dick, as you know clark and i are dating

dick: *silent glare*

bruce: we wanted to talk to you today becaues we wanted to see if you would be okay with clark staying here sometimes *bruce & clark are sweating bullets*

dick: no.

bruce: no? *clark looks like he's going to cry*

dick: no. last time he was here he ate the stash of animal crackers i had in the cave.

----

*bruce & clark coming back from a date but the batcave entrance won't open. tries to go into the manor entrance but the door is locked and the key won't work. no overrides work. alfred isn't answering. finally dick answers the phone.*

dick: what.

bruce: can you let us in chum? it's getting kind of cold out here.

dick: only if he leaves.

bruce: come on dick, it's late and clark is supposed to spend the weekend here with us.

dick: no. he's not allowed.

*clark flies them up and gets in through the window of bruce's bedroom*

dick: i told you he wasn't allowed.

*cue shrieking from bruce & clark who were not expecting dick to be sitting on the bed*

(based on an interaction i had with my dad's gf when i was like nine, i would try to lock her out of the house...)

----

dick: hey, i'm home! look what i did at school tod---

*bruce & clark kissing in the kitchen, pull apart so fast clark hits his head on a cabinet*

dick: you desrved that, you're so gross and i hate you.

[iwannabealice]

clark: i met this boy last night that seemed to really hate you

bruce: that could be anyone, what did he look like?

clark: tall, white, dark hair, really big-

bruce: ah, that’d be jason. my son

[miaowmelodie]

Imagine with me:

Batman made new suits to make all the batfam impossible to detect through any means because of a villain from the future with super advanced technology (possibly a future where the technology has been advanced through hybridization with alien technology or something).

What if the technology he uses for the suits make it so they're not only undetectable to the villain but to Superman too?

Like poor Clark could be just chilling with a book or something and out of the blue he stops hearing the heartbeats of the whole batfam?

He'd try to call them but since they need to be 100% undetectable the first thing they did was get rid of their phones.

It would be especially hilarious if when Bruce made the suits he didn't realize they were Clark-proof as well.

Like the day after he goes to the league's meeting that they'd planned and everyone's wearing black and mourning them while Clark's in front of a board with red string with pictures of all the villains that Batman's ever pissed off trying to understand who did it...and Bat's so confused.

[marskiiii]

clarkie

[ckducky]

My Adventures at the Daily Planet costume contest

a redraw of one of my favorite Superman panels

In the style of MAWS

[ledesaid]

Billy body-swaps #4

╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║╝╗║

Excellent news.

He survived the Doomsday attack.

Even better news! Flash is officially engaged!

But, today is the day to talk to Batman.

Wrapped in the blankets how a maki in the abandoned subway car, the little boy from Fawcett waits impatiently.

Today is the day. He repeats.

When the clock strikes midnight, he will jump again.

Tick. Tock...

Not much longer...

Tick. Tock...

The dripping from some pipe makes time run slower.

Not much longer...

Batman promised that he could... train... with him...

├───────────┴┴────────────┐

Does anyone know how to drive a car? Because Billy doesn't.

How is he supposed to stop the car when it's going so fast?!

Billy: Stooop!

A loud sound of the brakes throws him practically over the steering wheel. He's still alive, he can swear he might have a bruised rib.

But he's still alive and the car stopped!

Billy: Um... open?

This time the car didn't obey. His grimace of disgust faded as he looked at the cars’s dashboard, filled with buttons of all sizes. He guessed one of them would open the hatch.

Before pressing a large button, he quickly patted his face.

Who was it this time?

"Holy molly! I'm Batman!"

...: Sir? Are you alright? The car sent an alert.

Billy: Yes, yes, everything's fine... thank God the car stopped, it would have been a problem if we crashed out there.

Agent A: By any chance, might you be young Master Marvel?

Billy: Hello Agent A, it looks like I came back to Gotham City.

Agent A: I see, Master Marvel. I shall set the Batmobile to autopilot and escort you back to the Batcave.

Billy: That would be great, I wouldn't want someone to steal its tires for parking it where it shouldn't be.

Agent A: You would be surprised if I told you how that story concluded, sir. Absolutely riveting, it was!

Billy waited patiently while the car resumed the route, but didn't hesitate to play with his communicator. Maybe a little greeting to the League....

Billy: Hello, I'm Batman. Gotham City needs reinforcements. I'm taking the night off.

Billy thought: "Wow, I'm so responsible... Batman would be proud of me."

He can swear someone gasped on the other side of the call.

Superman: Looks like it was Batman's turn today. Do you need help with anything else, Marvel?

Billy: No, I'm just going to check what's inside each compartment of my utility belt, or maybe figure out how to open it first!

Superman: We'll send reinforcements, Marvel, and happy birthday!

Billy: Great, thanks a lot, Mr. Superman! That was two weeks ago, but I appreciate it!

Billy cut the call before another comment slipped through, and indeed, Alfred was in the cave as expected… with a tray of cookies!

Billy: Thank you very much, Agent A! Can you believe that Superman wished me a happy birthday?! Can I have a recording?

Alfred: No problem young master Marvel.

Billy: I can swear I won't be able to eat other cookies without comparing them to yours! Each chip is bigger than a marble!

Alfred: It's a long-standing family recipe that my mother passed down to me. I make sure they always come out perfect.

Billy lost count of how many cookies he ate.

Robin: No way... you're really not him?

Billy: Oh! Hi Robin! Sorry about last time. I didn't want to get caught so quickly.

Robin: Don't worry, it's no problem, I'm in one piece and Batman didn't punish me! everything went well Marvel!

Alfred: Would you like to keep our guest company while I fetch something from the kitchen?

Robin: Sure, is there anything you want to do tonight?

Billy: Can you teach me how to open the compartments of the belt?

Robin: How about we prepare your own belt instead?

Billy: Really?! Can I have my own utility belt?!

Robin: Sure, we have twelve hours, right?

Billy: Can I have a grappling gun too?!

Robin: Sure, the armory has full.

Billy: And can we go out on patrol? I've always wanted to stop a criminal with the terrifying voice! I saw the Bat-Signal in the sky as I was coming. Can we? Can we go?, please, Robin?

Billy clasped his hands and got down on his knees.

Robin: Just let me take a picture and I'll see what I can do about it.

-------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | U are here | Part 5

[ryemiffie]

I love imagining the scenario where one of Bruce's kids is getting married but no one knows Bruce's identity and it creates shenanigans. Like for example, Dick is marrying Starfire and she doesn't know Bruce's identity.

And they of course want Bruce at the wedding since he's Dick's dad, but they also want a hero as security due to the nature of the wedding, not only as a wedding between two heroes but also a Wayne wedding (not to mention holding a wedding like that in gotham is never easy) which is a pretty big deal in both respects and garners a lot of attention to be the perfect opportunity for a villian attack. So Starfire and Dick decide to request a justice league member there as security. Some heroes are eliminated due to them already being meant to attend as guests who are meant to be able to enjoy the wedding and some already have missions that need their attention, like Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and the Martian Manhunter are busy off-world, Shazam and HawkGirl are busy with a villian who's been on the run, and Superman is supposed to be doing press for the wedding as Clark, so they decide to give the task to Batman seeing as he's more than qualified and is already accustomed to the area (gotham), he can't figure out a way to decline the mission without risking his identity being leaked since he really has no reason to not be able to do it, except of course saying he has civilian business, on the day of the wedding, at the exact time of the wedding.. yeah hell no, Batman is way to paranoid to say something like that! So he agrees to do security as Batman for the wedding while also agreeing to attend the wedding as Bruce, ya' know, so people don't suspect anything about his identity due to the situation.

And before you ask yes Dick has realised the situation but no he is not helping Bruce out of it because its fucking funny to him, and none of the other batkids agree to where the suit for the day since they're also guests and they also find the situation funny as hell. So cue Bruce trying to constantly switch between making appearances as Bruce and doing security as Batman, like the classic sitcom episode where the person has to constantly switch between one date to the next, but it's Batman just trying to enjoy his kid's wedding.

[allthegothihopgirls]

clark grounds jonathan from his phone, and promptly receives a message from damian saying.

"Clark,

I am aware of the need for consequence in a child's upbringing. However, Jon and I have important matters to attend to, which you have interrupted by disallowing his use of a mobile device. I do not deem it necessary to inform you of the explicit details of those matters, but you must know that they are of an urgent nature.

May I have you reminded of who carries the Green K on them at all times, and whom that could be fatal to.

Regards, Damian"

bruce actually laughs when clark shows him.

[tarta-de-limon]

Late again, always late to the trends

It's literally them

[callieisto]

This is Kali’s fault. @killakalx

Minors Dni- includes. Slight dirty talk? But? Loving?, marking, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cumming inside, kind of sappy pillow talk, dom!Clark, fem!reader

Clark Kent is strong enough to pick you up and use you like a fleshlight. He doesn’t, usually, because that’s mean and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you or anything.

But there are rare occasions, when he’s had enough of being Superman, when he’s had enough of being Clark Kent, where he lets himself tap into those desires to just… use you.

He’s got you pinned to the wall of his apartment, feet not even scraping the floor, his tongue so deep in your mouth you swear he’s trying to make you choke on it. (Doesn’t help that his is a little bit longer than a normal person’s, and his sharp little fangs don’t help much either.) He’s holding you up by your waist, his grip bruising, and when he pulls back he’s out of breath.

“I need you,” he whispers, and it’s the last semblance of a boyfriend who’s gentle or careful with you that you’re going to get for a few hours. His glasses are askew, his hair is ruffled, his shirt has already been halfway unbuttoned thanks to your wandering hands. “Please.”

When you say “okay”, he’s on you faster than he’s ever been on anything in his life. Ripping your shirt down the middle- your bra, too- he’s setting you down on unsteady feet before basically attacking your chest, biting and sucking his way down your body, coming to where the hem of your pants hugs your waist before he stops. He looks up at you, blue eyes nearly eclipsed by his pupil, blown wide with arousal.

They flash gold when they catch the light.

Clark looks like a proper predator, and suddenly you understand why villains get all prickly when they’re dealing with Superman. He’s scary. Your sweet, loving boyfriend, who has never once even raised his voice at you, is downright terrifying.

“I can smell you,” he chokes out, and his voice is dark. Your pants are gone before you can even register his movements, and your underwear are also the unfortunate victims of his super strength. “Can hear your heart beating,” he breathes, a little laugh escaping him as he presses his mouth against the soft skin of your stomach. “Your blood, I can… fuck…”

Aaaaand you’re suddenly on the couch, Clark is between your legs, and he’s eating you out like he’s never had a meal before in his life. Usually he’s careful, controlled, wants to make you feel good before anything else. But right now, he’s just hungry, and he’s getting more enjoyment out of your desperate attempts to squirm away from him and the noises you’re making more than anything else. He makes you cum three times while he mutters about how you’re ‘such a good girl’, and then he’s cradling your face in his hands, cooing at you while you come back down to earth.

“You prepped? Y’ready to take my dick, sweet girl?”

(His southern accent is thick; he looks and sounds drunk on you, chin covered in your slick, big blue eyes meeting yours.)

He doesn’t let you answer, mostly because he knows you can’t. And he knows his dick is huge- he goes slow, usually, but tonight he just needs to feel you cum on his cock otherwise he’ll go insane, he’ll go crazy.

Clark feels properly awful about how you’re already squirming and whining when he presses his tip at your entrance. He wants to do something, but then the tip slips in, and he’s gone.

He pushes in the rest of the way with a wet shlck, curling his body over yours so he can see the way your pussy looks speared on his cock. “Fuck.” He rumbles. “Look at you, taking me so deep. God, it’s like you’re made for it, made for me…”

He thrusts into you, keeping his forearm above your head to brace himself- when your hands curl around his bicep and squeeze all desperate, he blacks out for a second. When he wakes up again, you’re squealing, and he’s rubbing circles against your clit with his free hand, and you have some bite marks that are stark against your skin.

“Cum for me.” He begs, and his voice doesn’t even sound like his own. “Cum for me right now, I know y’can do it, I want you t’do it, you’ve been so good f’me, so fucking good, the best, taking me so deep and hard like it’s what you were made for- please give it t’me, darlin, please.”

When you sob all high and pretty and spasm on his dick, he feels like he’s seeing stars. Actually, it’s better than stars, because he’s just looking at you, at the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, at the red marks you leave when you dig your nails into his skin. Clark sees everything.

And then he cums, pushing deep inside, a choked gasp of your name dropping from his lips. He screws his eyes shut, his nose wrinkling in that cute way it does when he’s thinking. He moans low and just for you.

… when he comes back to his senses, you’re softly squirming under his weight, grumbling about how heavy he is. He pulls back- and out- watching with amazement as a bit of cum starts to trickle out. He barely resists the urge to follow it with his tongue, because he thinks you’d kill him.

“My sweet girl.” He croons instead, pressing soft kisses to your face. “So good, so pretty. Took me so amazingly.”

“You almost killed me,” you complain, pouting at him. “Women on this planet are not built to handle seven orgasms, Clark.”

He tilts his head. “I only remember four.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “… but I can make it seven, if you want. Really test the limits of the human body, y’know-”

You hit him in the side of the head with a throw pillow. He relents.