#superman thoughts

[lambcow]

Ok but imagine young Clark coming into his super-hypnotism powers as a young kid and Martha Kent is not having it because you can only argue with your two-year-old so much if they can sweet talk you into anything they want.

She figures out really fast that it's all in the inhuman eyes - and really, she should've known that gorgeous shade of blue was too good to be true - so when Clark gets in a fit and she just knows he's going to make a demand, she avoids direct eye contact with her sweet little angel. She knows he's not doing it on purpose, he's just a little kid, after all.

But then, he has to go to school, and Martha knows Clark won't do it on purpose, but her little baby is a charmspeaker and is accidentally going to manipulate the entire world around him into whatever he thinks he wants and that's just not going to fly!

So, Martha experiments a little. The next time they go into town for the day, Martha hands Clark a tiny pair of sunglasses to wear all day to see if lenses even make a difference. It's not that he's never worn them before, but she needs to know if he can influence anyone if he's not looking directly into their eyes. After a day of errands and several pleading looks and what are certainly puppy eyes from Clark from behind tinted lenses to no avail, Martha has her answer.

Their last stop of the day is an antique shop on Main. Martha greets the man at the counter like you only can in a small town and asks if he has any supplies of old glasses they can rifle through for Clark, just in the meantime until they can get his eyes checked. Just to limp along. It's a lie, Clark doesn't need a prescription. But in a box of used glasses, there's always the chance Martha will find what she needs.

Gary (that's his name) points her toward a dresser down the room and tells her there's a drawer filled with costume glasses and the like. They find a tiny pair of glasses for Clark and he complains at first that the world "looks funny" but then he blinks twice and looks around again and, with a grin, says "Never mind - I like them, can I keep them?"

And that's how Clark Kent starts wearing glasses.

As he gets older, continuing to grow up and especially while he's still shorter than his ma he'll occasionally glare up at her from over his lenses petulantly as he tries to get his way and it brings a whole new weight to the phrase "Don't give me that look, now, son," because Clark knows that she means not to use his Kryptonian eyes on her to get his way. It's not a secret any more than Clark being an alien is a secret that Clark can get people to do what he wants. But the few times he's done it have resulted in the biggest groundings of his entire life and more chores than he's ever wanted to do. And not just manual labor chores, but the kind of chores ma knows he doesn't like, because a ma always knows how to make a chore a chore.

In high school, for all that Clark is not very popular and has that whole quiet nerd persona going for him, he has that cute kid with the glasses Kryptonian Gaze™ down to a seductive art and he's not even trying. Because. Hello? B-i-o-l-o-g-y. So, yeah. That over-the-glasses glance from across the room? It's a whole thing and lots of girls (and guys?) are super confused by why they suddenly think Clark Kent might be super hot. Then when they look again but it's just Clark sitting there with his normal glasses again? They're not so sure...

He doesn't like to use his super-hypnotism because it feels like cheating, but depending on the circumstance he will. It's not that different than using his other abilities after all, right? If it's for the right reasons, is it?

While he's working at the Daily Planet, he'll use it on occasion to push his advantage for a story for that one extra detail, to get access to a room he might not have otherwise, to sneak into places he might not have, to make people forget his face, his name, their conversation if it was a particularly sketchy place... it's all a simple tilt down of the chin so he can look people straight in the eyes over the rim of his glasses and ask a pointed question or say something or suggest something and then....

As Superman it's different. As Superman, he never wears his glasses. He's all heat vision and x-ray vision, micro and macro vision. As Superman, he does what he needs to to save people. Sometimes that's telling someone to get to safety or go home, call 9-1-1, run, stay here, be quiet.. it's a hundred things as Superman. Sometimes it's asking guards for passcodes or entrance, sometimes it's to turn off surveillance altogether. Superman does what he has to do.

[iwudbutnah]

New Superman Thoughts

No shade to David Cornswet, but he just isn’t doing it for me as Superman. I don’t find him attractive in this role. I mean look at his successors movie wise, Reeves (handsome and good looking), Routh (Same), Cavill (need I say more the man is fine). Even some of the tv counterparts (Tom Welling, Dean Cain, Brandon Routh, Tyler Hoechlin) are attractive or fit the look of the role.

Maybe when I see the film I’ll feel differently, but he just doesn’t make me wanna write super fics with him as the Clark I’m picturing. I also don’t like his Clark Kent look either so there’s that. Just my opinion. Please no hate for it just stating how I feel. Plus the last role I saw of him was twisters and he was a dick lol.

[veggieguy23-me]

I like that justification. That thoroughly convinces me (even more than I thought possible, like I was already for them but wow)

Now the suit doesn’t even need to actually look cool. Like Clark dresses like a clown so people laugh. Helps them let their guard down.

…joker ABSOLUTLEY needs to look stupid now that I think about it. Would help him kill people.

the great evil has been defeated. symbol of hope superman has returned 🙏🏼🫶

x

[inkedberries]

after patrolling, unwinding in a diner somewhere ...

throw the man a bone batman geez

[problemnyatic]

It's too late, I've already depicted you as the ugly pathetic "soy"jack (the soy is because soy has estrogen in it, this is bad because it makes you less masculine and more like the inferior female sex, because men should only be manly otherwise they're "failed" and thus lesser and deserving of ridicule) And me as the White Handsome Blue-Eyed Blond Man With Impressive Facial Hair Who's Memetic Association Is With Being Objectively Correct (This makes sense because he is the ideal Aryan specimen, all of these features obviously make him objectively superior to other people). This means I win and definitely look good here, you should really just pack it up. I'm a leftist btw

[frownyalfred]

a nosy socialite at an event, leaning down: “Oh Richard, it must be so hard for you in that house, what with Bruce’s…proclivities for nighttime guests.”

Dick Grayson, fully aware at age 13 that Bruce Wayne is a Loser™ whose only “nighttime guest” is Clark Kent, who comes over to “review cases” with Bruce before/after patrol while both of them awkwardly ignore any and all tension between them: “Something like that.”

[enyasaints]

Elf wants to stay on her shelf🧝🏾‍♀️🎅🏻

Hey guys!! It’s Enya. I work a full time job in childcare. I work specifically with two year old children. I love my work but sadly I am only paid $12.50/hr. I posted my direct deposit of $741 I received on the 20th of December.

Venmo: enyasaint

Cash App: $Enyasaint

Because of this I’m short $700 rent for the month of January.

“I am the elf on the shelf and need help staying housed.”

$0/$700

I have until January 1st (9 days) to raise this. I would be eternally grateful for d0nos, reblogs and most importantly comments. Comments can be anything. Emoji’s, words of encouragement, hot takes etc.

Please don’t skip without interacting.

Update:

December 24th - Christmas Eve

$0 Donations

[draconym]

Nerds will tie themselves into knots trying to justify their answers to "why is Superman ripped when he gets his power from the sun" but I have never seen anyone just admit "because a bodybuilder physique is modern visual shorthand for depicting strength despite the fact that professional weightlifters tend to be fat."

Like, he's a fictional alien man with magic powers. He looks like that because comic book artists in the 1930s wanted him to look """strong.""" There is no reason he can't be fat.

[noka-exe]

hard truths + the master of evasion at work

[theerurishipper]

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I tried something new

Part 1 -> Part 2

Masterpost

[artstaeus3600]

So some people have requested a part two for the Danny is Conner's Dad prompt/one shot? I did and it's been in my head since I'd written it so here ya go!

Danny's been living in Central City for almost a year now and things have been great with Conner! Dan finally gets to meet the little ghostie and finds him acceptable (read adorable) Conner seems to love going outside and napping so they have been doing that for nap time, he's finally seen the "Flashes" that Dan and Clockwork were complaining about so much and he gets it, it's a little irritating figuring out what changes in the timeline when he goes places.

Dani came by with her latest gift, a blue and red wrap with stars on it, that Danny now wears everywhere with Conner, so when Danny and Conner were having their nap walk around the City Danny got Summoned by a cult just from the smell of blood it's not going to be great... So Danny in his more eldritch form of endless stars and glowing green eyes and fire crown (still human sized), with the bonus of baby Conner with his wrap, he gets pulled to the summoning and finds the cult wearing green robes with some of the superheros he's seen around beating them up and suddenly stops when they notice him and the baby.

The leader of the cult who for some reason was still conscious starts speaking

"Oh Great One, Ghost King, Ancient of Space we ask for you to cleanse our world of the filth that has...", and that's as far as he got before the Superhero with a Kryptonian symbol for hope knocked him finally unconscious, then all focus is back on Danny with the baby and well Danny didn't really wanna reveal his human identity to the heros cause he can just tell the edgy dark one is a nosey type of hero, and he's finally having a semi peaceful life and he's rather not get involved with heros again, so he breaks the summoning circle faster than they can protest and dips out only leaving a green sticky note with a summoning for him and written "use only for emergency"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Hopefully this is good for part two? This was what I was imagining for the Justice League to figure out Danny and Conner and trying to track him down.

[duckysprouts]

dc injustice is messed up because they write such refreshing yet disgustingly awful takes on every single relationship and person. like how do u misunderstand the core of every character?? can only be consumed when removed from the context of all canon

anyway take 2 people make em obsessed yada yada hand in unlovable hand or whatever

[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.

[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.

[frownyalfred]

“Bruce Wayne’s superpower is money” Bruce Wayne’s superpower is the ability to actively have a full-fledged panic attack and still look Superman himself dead in the eye without any of his vitals changing. Heart rate is a solid 60 BPM. You can’t even see him breathing. Put some respect on my man’s name.

[bbbbbbbbatman]

Bruce, ending a JL meeting: Superman and I will discuss this further

Hal, teasing: lol, are you two going to fuck

Bruce, deadpan: yeah we are, what about it