#superman drabble

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away. 

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known. 

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering. 

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready. 

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

[moonylovegoodsposts]

sneak peak

Back To You | David!Clark Kent × Plus Size Latina! OC

Wordcount(for this sneak peak): 189 word

Warnings: fluff, no use of Y/n (no matter how hard I try, I just can't get myself used to write using the Y/n thing, I'm so sorry about that!). Plus sized Oc, because why not? and Latina(Brazilian) Oc, because again, why not? Her name will be revealed in the nexts post. Hopefully I'll finish the chapter by tomorrow or after, I really don't know, depends on my inspiration.

faceclaim: Brianna Marquez (@/brimarqz)

"Need some help?" I hear a voice that makes me turn back to the farm entrance and see a ridiculously tall guy wearing a blue flannel shirt and jeans, standing in front of the porch steps. "Excuse me?" I ask, not understanding where the man came from. I look a little behind him and see a blue pickup truck parked at the farm entrance. How did I not hear him coming?

"My parents said you came to live here permanently, so I thought it would be a good idea to come and help you... and it's summer, I have nothing to do on my parents' farm, so..." he continues chattering, as he climbs the steps, seeming nervous about something but only one thing goes through my head: Who is this guy?

"Excuse me, who are you again?" I ask, very confused, making him stop on the last step, his expression changing a few times. "Do I look that different?" He asks with a smile, looking at me. I open my mouth to say some sarcastic retort, but my brain freezes when I finally recognize the bright blue eyes. "Clark?"

[hanasnx]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sunsburns]

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

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

and he always does.

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

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

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

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

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

you know what he’s doing in there.

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

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

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

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

no, you need to be the one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he looks utterly wrecked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck, please—”

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

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

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

clark kent is completely undone.

[superbat-love]

Batman may claim to have no powers, but Green Lantern knows better. He’s convinced that Batman’s cape is sentient.

Green Lantern has observed it on quiet nights in the Watchtower, when Batman thinks no one’s paying attention. He releases control over his cape, letting it unravel and float menacingly around him in different directions. It moves on its own, sweeping across nearby surfaces, carelessly knocking over items.

There’s one thing Green Lantern knows for sure—Batman’s cape has a sweet tooth. Every time Batman passes the candy bowl, it’s mysteriously emptied.

Even stranger, it seems to influence other capes. Once, while Batman was talking to Superman, their capes briefly touched, and Green Lantern saw Superman’s cape come to life—swirling and fluttering as though it had a mind of its own. Superman, unfazed, didn’t even react to the way their capes were flapping erratically around them. Green Lantern was relieved he didn’t have a cape.

He told the others about his theory, but they were skeptical at first. They eyed Batman’s cape with suspicion as he was distracted by a mission briefing with Wonder Woman. But even the Flash had to admit Green Lantern might be onto something when Batman’s cape swiped their feet out from under them, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Martian Manhunter nodded sagely and agreed on its intelligence, having felt the minds of four little beings flitting around underneath Batman’s cape. Maybe one day they’d feel comfortable enough to run underneath his cape too.

[st4rfckerz]

clark kent is the kind of guy to plan out his entire future with you while he’s balls deep and absolutely pussy drunk. his body is pressed against yours with his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily while making scarcely comprehensible promises in your ear. the fantasies swirl in his mind, becoming more vivid as he gets closer and closer.

“ ‘m gonna marry you, a-and we can have a farm of our own, ah- and a big house with kids, fuck…jus’ want it all with you please.” and then in true clark fashion he gets a tad embarrassed about what he said after he’s done, but you both know he really means it.

[logicallyblind]

you don’t understand l. i need batman to be weirdly good with babies. i mean, objectively when in a group of people the one dressed in an entirely military level reinforced fighting suit with a bat cowl should objectively be the last peroson someone should hand a baby to and yet. batman was the only one in an entire unit of 17 people who could calm the hysteric infant while waiting for child services to arrive on the scene and take the responsibility off the bat.

but it keeps happening. any incident which involveds a child in any form it is sent batmans way if the means allow it. and batman just,, let’s it happen. you’re not going to see him complaining in participating an experience like that was prior, inheritely one that one would be saved for couples only but,,, idk batman just chilling with a small army of toddlers and infants who fear no god so why would they fear the man that just emits safety and care yk?

the adults in the room are both terrified and impressed by their gaul lmfaoo

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce enters the conference room on the Watchtower. He is wearing a baby carrier with a baby inside it.

There is a hoo-ha.

"Why is there a baby," whispers Flash to Superman.

Clark shrugs. "It's probably one of the Robins."

"What?" says Barry tightly. "No, none of them are that age!"

"Jesus Bar, it's like you've never heard of de-aging beams."

"I'm not feeling good about the fact that you're taking this so lightly." Barry scratches at his five o' clock shadow. "If it is a Robin, it's very weird. But it's more weird if it's not."

"Maybe it's a Batgirl," suggests Diana, leaning in. "Cass or...or Steph. The purple one."

"That fits the purple diaper," says Barry reflectively.

"Barry stop hyperfixating on this," Clark says. "Let it go."

The baby is crying a little, sucking on its thumb. Batman gives it a chew toy as he continues working, and then produces a bottle out from under his cape, and holding the baby's head at a careful angle, begins to feed it.

"Batman..." Flash says, miserably curious. "Why do you have a baby?" He points at it, as if to make clear what baby he is talking about.

Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. "Newly orphaned. Mother threw her from the spire of a church tower in Scarecrow-fear-toxin-induced hallucinations. Then she threw herself. I could only save one."

Barry looks like the dictionary illustration for the word 'flabbergasted'.

"Oh," is all he says. "Oh. Okay."

"I've found her a good home. She'll leave in a few hours." Bruce looks down, and then mutters to himself, "I just wanted to hold her".

Superman pretends he doesn't have super-hearing.

[somnoir]

Masterpost [1]

Multi-Parts:

Bats and Phantoms

Summary:

The Fenton/Masters Siblings and members of the Bat Family meet. One by one, they end up together while the rest of the family is oblivious that their partners are related to the others.

Ships: Danny/Jason, Dan/Dick, Cass/Jazz, Dani(Elle)/Damian

Tumblr Parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

My Father's Secretary

Summary:

Danny Fenton gets a job as Bruce Wayne's secretary. After being gifted a coffee maker, he might actually go to the ends of the earth for this clumsy man.

Ships: Danny/Jason (Dead on Main)

Tumblr Posts:

Part 1 | Part 2

Gotham's newest Crime Lord

Summary:

Dan kills the Joker and proceeds to become a crime lord. Shenanigans ensure between the Bats and the three ghosts in Gotham trying to screw with the criminal underworld

Ships: Dan/Dick, Danny/Jason

Tumblr Posts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Prodigal son beyond time

Summary:

Ra's Al Ghul's first born is a peculiar child. Talia is curious about the prodigal son, her strange brother beyond time.

Ships: Bruce/Danny (possibly)

Tumblr Posts

Part 1 | Part 2

One-shots:

Demon Twins and Death

Summary:

In which the twins meet after one kills the other.

A Family of Rogues

Summary:

The Fentons/Masters move to Gotham. Everyone, except the Fentons, think they're future Rogues.

Ghost KingConsort?

Summary:

Danny is a petty and dead twin brother that decides to give his brother and father a heart attack by implying Danny and Phantom were married.

How to pull a Batman by J. Constantine

Summary:

John Constantine acquires six children from an ancient being that also happens to be one of his exes. He's gonna fight god and batman.

Little Star's favorite

Summary:

Demons twins au where Danny is brought to Bruce a couple years after Damian. He proceeds to hate the family except for one very specific person.

Damian's Future Husband

Summary:

In which Jason Todd must fight his brother to the death for Phantom's hand in marriage.

Credits to @strangergraphics-archive for the divider <3

[axstoria]

Got this idea from another post that I CANNOT for the life of me find.

AU where Clark comes to Earth as an adult, and has to blend into normal human society.

He knows his name is Kal-El, but he also knows that humans don't have names like that. He sees a couple of celebrities and mashes their names together, hoping that it would make him a bit more likable in the eyes of humans.

He hides sharp-tipped ears behind black curls and ball caps, wears glasses so people won't notice his abnormally deep blue eyes, and is constantly in sweaters despite the weather to conceal muscles that shouldn't exist on a "normal human".

When he gets his job at the Daily Planet and has to interview Bruce Wayne, he's scared. This is his first time being near a real human celebrity, and he's mortified that he'll blow his cover.

He sits and stares at the billionaire for several minutes. This human is gorgeous in all the ways a being can be. His eyes are blue like Earth's oceans, his hair falls in perfect wisps against his forehead, and his outfit is perfectly crisp against his body, perfectly tailored to every small curve.

"Uhm... Mr. Kent?" Bruce bats his eyelashes at him, smiling expectantly.

Clark snaps out of it, his pupils dilating ever so slightly. "You're beautiful. Can I court you? What's your favorite planet?— I'll bring you rocks!"

The man is stunned, watching the reporter for some time before replying, "I... suppose Venus is nice."

Bruce is fully convinced that this reporter is autistic. Makes his life easier. They could connect in that way.

Clark flushes, realizing what he's done. He's very happy the interview wasn't recorded in any way.

Bruce shows up to work the next day and there is a box with his name on it in sloppy handwriting sitting on his desk.

He opens it, and to his amusement—and shock— , there is a piece of rock inside with a note that says one word: Venus.

That night, Bruce takes the rock home to the Batcave and analyzes it for its composition. When it is a match for Venus, he immediately connects the dots that Clark Kent is the new meta being that had been parading around Metropolis and surrounding cities as of late. After all, not even the greatest scientists have yet to reach Venus, so how else would this reporter get a rock from the planet unless he could survive the expanse of space and fly there?

He is dumbfounded. And maybe a little in love.

[bluebedo]

Imagine with me: Clark interviewing Bruce and they somehow get onto the topic of Batman, specifically the rumours of Bruce being in a relationship with Batman. Of course, Bruce denies it, but he's still in this 'Brucie' persona so, as always, he takes it a step further. He says that he and Batman aren't together because Batman is in love with Superman.

Meanwhile, Clark is silently freaking out in the chair across from him cos "HUH??? WHAT?????? HE IS??????" like this man is on the verge of tears, he just found out the love of his life loves him back??? Oh, he's milking this shit. Clark and Bruce get into a long conversation about how Superman and Batman are obviously head over heels for one another, probably even dating, and that somehow ends up being what Clark's article is about, much to Perry's delight and Bruce's dismay. It gets published and Batman dreads seeing Superman at the next JLA meeting.

They're awkward at first since Bats is avoiding Superman at all cost, while Supes is just trying not to explode with darn excitement and nerves. Eventually, Wonder Woman gets everyone to leave the room and basically tells Batman to pull his shit together with her eyes.

Superman pulls out the article, Batman evades all his questions. He calls Bruce Wayne an airhead, Superman says that Bruce Wayne is actually a lot smarter than he's given credit for, Superman says maybe Clark Kent is actually lying (he is a reporter so therefore untrustworthy, right?), but Batman comes to his defence cos "Kent is one of the most reputable reporters in Metropolis, nay the country."

Then Superman starts to think Batman might not love him, but love Clark, who is him and uuugh it's all so confusing. Meanwhile, Bruce is thinking that Superman might have a crush on Bruce Wayne, which causes thoughts of both 'oh no, not another one' and 'FINALLY A GOOD ONE'.

[beaucate]

part two / master list.

𐙚⋆˙˚◞ OBLIVIOUS!READER who always watched clark from a distance, a frown visible on the rosy plush of her lips as his eyes strayed away from her own. he never watched her, and how could he when lana lang was always beside her, capturing the farmer boy’s attention with ease.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who can’t see the way clark’s drift towards the side of her face when she isn’t paying attention. his breathing rapid, and palms clenching his locker so it bent under the tips of his fingers.

OBLIVIOUS!READER not noticing the glances mr. and mrs. kent would share whenever she came over, watching as their son’s eyes widened and his words spluttered as she asked for his mother’s apple pie recipe.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who doesn’t catch the way clark’s lips part ever so slightly when she laughs on the outside benches of school. the sound seeming to unravel him entirely, zoning out when the laces of her skirt lift slightly above her thighs. she assumes he’s just zoning out, daydreaming about the green eyed brunette who sat along her — but in truth, his thoughts are consumed by her, and the way the sun light dances in her eyes.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who brushes off the way clark insists on carrying her books, his hand brushing hers as he does, leaving her cheeks burning red and heart pounding louder than she’d like. she convinces herself it’s just because he’s a gentleman, a farm boy raised by the kindest of people in town; not realising how much it takes for him to steady his superhuman heartbeat every time her lashes flutter his way.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who never questions why clark’s excuses to spend time together are, if anything, endless — offering her rides to school, and staying late to help her study for exams.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who doesn’t realise she’s the reason clark’s nights are sleepless, watching her home from afar in the comfort of his barn, his mind replaying every rise of her chest and shudder from the cold. he swears her perfume lingers in the air longer than it should.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who catches clark watching her once —just once — and dismisses it, thinking he must be distracted by something behind her. meanwhile, clark’s heart is lodged in the base of his throat, and he’s trying not to panic at the idea of her realising his gaze was drawn to her pouty mouth.

OBLIVIOUS!READER who can’t explain why mrs. kent always smiles teasingly at her when she visits the farm, or why mr. kent’s chuckle feels a little too amused every time his son fumbles his words around her. she assumes they might be picking on her — though theyre too nice; but what could possibly be the reason?

OBLIVIOUS!READER who doesn’t realize clark’s awkward stammers and shy smiles aren’t just his usual charm — they’re reserved for her. and when his hand accidentally brushes hers and she pulls away, muttering an apology, clark wonders if she’ll ever see just how much his mind has memorised the lines etched on her palms.

❀˚ dividers by @/ fairytopea

[hanasnx]

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

MINORS DNI 18+

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

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

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

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

[sunsburns]

clark kent and those damn glasses (18+)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he doesn’t even notice right away.

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

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

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

all he wants to feel is you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’ve always liked his glasses for some reason.

[superbat-love]

Bruce: Hey everybody! I’m back~

Green Lantern: Oh god. Who let this menace in?

Martian Manhunter: The man did sponsor this place.

Bruce: Greenie! You didn’t tell me you got engaged! [holds up his ring] Oh, this is beautiful. Who is your jeweller? I should totally get myself one too.

Green Lantern: Hey, give that back! [snatches the ring from him]

Bruce: Fine, gatekeep all you want. I’ll just ask the other Green Goblins. [tries to light up a cigar]

Green Lantern: No smoking in the Watchtower!

Startled, Bruce fumbles with his lighter. It falls onto a stack of paper, which catches on fire. Martian Manhunter runs out of the room screaming. Green Lantern quickly extinguishes the flames with his ring.

Green Lantern: Shit, those were Batman’s reports. He’s gonna kill us. Wayne, I think it’s best that you leave.

Bruce: [pouting] But I just got here.

Superman: Mr Wayne.

Bruce: Supey baby! Great work today! You must be thirsty after working out those buns of steel for the cameras, so I brought you some tea.

Superman: Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the suspiciously glowing green tea. Perhaps we should talk in the meeting room?

Bruce: Should have just told me you wanted me all to yourself… [tosses the drink into the hazardous waste bin and wraps his arms around Superman] Take me away, big guy!

Green Lantern: And don’t come back!

Superman: [sighing as he carries Bruce out of the room] Bruce, is it really necessary to do this every month?

Bruce: Hmph. The lack of vigilance is unacceptable. I should hold a refresher course on security measures again.

[st4rfckerz]

clark’s 6’3 soooo yk 🙂‍↕️

“Been waiting all night for you, you know that?” As you pulled your shirt over your head, Clark's hands were already working at the buttons of his own shirt. He settled between your legs, the heat of his bare skin pressing against yours. He positioned himself at your entrance, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control. With a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, stretching and filling you completely.

A guttural moan escaped his lips at the sensation of your tight cunt enveloping him. He paused for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intensity of the connection. Then he began to move, setting a relentless pace as he drove into you again and again. Clark's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. His lips found yours once more, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if trying to devour you whole.

Clark leaned back, pulling you with him as he shifted positions. He brought your hips up, angling your body so that he could drive deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each powerful thrust. The new position allowed him to watch your face, to see the pleasure etched on your features as he claimed you. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he pounded into you with increasing intensity.

“You're so pretty like this, so perfect.” He could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps. Clark's hips slowed slightly as he felt your body strain beneath him. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Do you need me to stop?”

You shook your head, your breath coming in short gasps. “No, don't stop,” you managed to say. “It's just...so much.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across Clark's face.

“Takin’ me so well,” he panted, his hips picking up the pace once more. “Look at how deep I am.” His eyes ogled down to the bulge his cock was creating in your belly. With a low groan, he pressed his hand against it, feeling the hard length of himself moving within you.

His thrusts became more deliberate, more focused, as he chased his release. His hand remained on your belly, feeling the way your body yielded to his, taking every inch of him. “Give it to me baby, I wanna feel you cum.”

Clark felt your body clench around him, your inner walls pulsing and contracting as you reached your orgasm. Your cry of his name echoed in the room, a sound of pure ecstasy that made his dick twitch inside of you. Your release triggered his own, and with a final, powerful thrust, Clark buried himself deep inside you. His body tensed, his muscles coiling tight as he spilled thick ropes of cum deep within your aching cunt.

Clark rolled off of you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He couldn't help the slick smile that spread across his face as he lay beside you, his eyes stared up at the ceiling.

His mind reeled back to the bulge he created in your tummy and the way his hand had pressed against your skin, feeling himself inside you. The affirmation wrapped around him like a warm coat, feeding a part of him he rarely acknowledged. He wasn’t one to dwell on vanity, but in that moment, he couldn’t help himself.

For once, he let his ego revel, if only for a little while.