#Your Alien Boyfriend is Waiting

[dearwalker]

Sex pollen - Clark Kent x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Description: When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

Tags/warnings: smut, established relationship, clark is sorry, he gets freaky with his powers, consent kink, breaks you and worships you at the same time, begging, praising, hovering (yes hovering👀), so much dirty talk (he’s feral but sweet), overstimulation.

Note: Guess who watched superman today and got a new man to obsess about🙂‍↕️ honestly I don’t even know what took over me when I wrote this but all I can say is go ahead, live your best life and enjoy the sweet filth 🫶🏼

archive / masterlist

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You wake up with a loud crash coming from your living room. You jolt upright from your bed as you hear glass shatter, sprinting toward the noise. You curse as your body, only covered by Clark’s giant shirt, gets hit with the crisp midnight air as wind gushed through your apartment like a hurricane just passed by.

A figure stood where your glass door used to be, leaning weakly on what was left of the frame. You turned on the lamp next to you, illuminating your boyfriend’s stumbling body.

“Clark!?” you exclaim, confused by his abrupt arrival.

He doesn’t look up, just stands there against the frame, chest heaving, fists clenched. Like he is barely holding himself together.

Worry washes your features, something must be really wrong. You start making way over to him, but as soon as you take a step forward he puts a warning hand in front of him.

“Stop! Don’t move,” his deep voice comes out strangled, like he’s been screaming for hours. “Don’t come closer… please. Just–just stay there.”

He keeps his hand up to stop you, panting heavily as he swallowed to try to soothe his dry throat. He slowly looks up, and groans when he meets your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, dry lips parted, his breath ragged like he’s been flying across the globe. His usually perfect wavy hair is now flat, messy, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he whines. “I–I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“What happened to you?” You ask from your spot, fighting the urge to run to his aid.

“I’ve been infected,” he chokes out, and your brows furrow more. “Some kind of … alien pollen. It hit me out there. I flew straight into it and fuck ... It’s messing with my head, my body, I…”

He suddenly turns away, pacing in small frantic circles on your balcony like he’s trying to shake something off. His hands tremble as he fights to not make eye contact, like just looking at you hurts.

“What do you need? D-do you have the antidote?” You ask, scared as hell. He never acts like this.

He just shakes his head first with a bitter laugh, only to nod frantically afterwards.

God, if only you knew.

“I tried to wait it out,” he groans, fists now in his hair. “I swear I did, my love, I locked myself away for hours … tried to fly as far as I could but I kept turning back because I could smell you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, somehow understanding what this was about.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Even from across the city … I can hear you breathing … your heartbeat. I didn’t want to hurt you but right now I have you in front of me and I can see–dammit … I’m sorry–“

He stumbles backward like he’s ashamed of himself, like he can’t even look at you.

“You know can’t turn it off,” he whispers. “I never mean to look, I swear, but I can see you now. Everything.”

Of course you know what he means. You know he can see right past his giant shirt covering your body. And the guilt on his face is gutting. He looks like he’s trying to claw his own powers out of his skin.

“Clark… it’s okay. You don’t have to explain, ”you step forward, slowly, gently. “It’s not like we haven’t–“

“No you don’t get it!” He snaps, his voice booming through your walls so loud you were sure everyone on the block heard him. He instantly feels worse with the way you flinched to his volume. “S-sorry darling … you just don’t get it … you have no idea what it’s like to smell you and know how soft you are, how warm. My instincts are going crazy. I just need to be inside you … I need to touch you, mark you, fill you up until I can’t think straight,” he just rambles, eyes raking through your body.

You take a deep breath, his words making you clench your thighs together and he noticed. Of course you’ve had sex before. You know what he sounds like when he’s needy. But this? This is feral. You’ve never seen him like this.

But you’re willing to do anything to help him. Always.

“Clark… you don’t even have to ask,” you speak softly, your own eyes darkening with desire.

He shakes his head. You don’t even understand the amount of restraint he’s having right now.

“I do … I always do. Especially now. Because I’m not going to touch you like I should. I’m not going to make it about you. I’m going to use you. Because you’re the only one who can fix me … you are the antidote and I hate it. I hate that I can’t even think straight unless I’m inside you … I need you so bad, darling, I’m shaking–“ He cries, an actual tear comes out his desperate eyes.

You’re watching a god fall apart in front of you.

Because of you.

You finally cross the space left, and he doesn’t stop you this time. You grab his face between your hands, and kiss him without hesitation. His arms immediately cling to your frame, cold hands slipping under your shirt to roam every inch of your warm skin.

You moan into his lips, when you taste the salty tears on his face. His hands land on your ass, and he squeezes hard, bruising, making you squeal. He immediately pulls back, apologizing. Like he still can’t let himself go.

“I love you, I’m sorry–” he blurts out immediately, hands soothing the skin he pinched while he fought the urge to do it again, harder. “God I love you … and I would never hurt you. Never. I swore I’d never touch you like this. Unless you asked me to. Unless you wanted me to. So please … tell me you want this too. Say yes, or I’ll leave. I swear I will.”

He nods, frantically, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’ll leave if you tell me to,” he breathes. “I’ll fly through a mountain. I’ll bury myself in the ocean. Just don’t say yes unless you want this. I’m barely holding on– if you say it, I won’t be able to stop.”

You want him. God you always want him.

The way he keeps asking makes you want him even more. Even if he’s not your Clark now. Even if he won’t take care of you like he always does. Even if you can’t breathe or move after. Because you love him too.

“I want it,” you whisper against his lips, nodding. “I want you. You need me? Use me. Take all you want … I can take it.”

It’s over.

The moment you say yes there’s no going back. He lunges forward, tightening his grip on you as he lifts you off the ground to fly you towards the wall, knocking the lamp when your back hit the wall, leaving you both in complete darkness. Only the moonlight left to shine over his hungry eyes.

His massive hand cradles the back of your head to protect it from the hit, while the other tears off your shirt like he needs your skin on his or he’ll die. Your panties don’t even last two seconds before they fly away too.

His lips hit yours. Tongue desperate, hands everywhere, so large, so shaky, everywhere at once. He groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst finally tasting water.

“Thank you,” he gasps between kisses. “Thank you sweetheart … I’m so sorry I can’t help you first … but I need you … I need to feel you inside, please just let me…”

He knows it hurts you when he doesn’t prepare you properly, when he doesn’t make you cum at least twice on his fingers before he fucks you …but he can’t right now. Not when he can smell how soaked you are already, not when he swears it’s dripping on the carpet.

“Do it,” you pant, hungry for him. “Clark just do it … please.”

He doubts only for a second, and then without thinking he rips the suit. Literally tears it at the waist, tugging it to get rid of it completely. He’ll care about that later.

Right now he is just muscle in front of you.

His painful cock springs up, and he presses himself to you with a wet slap, your back hitting the wall again. Your pussy throbs at how impossibly huge he is over your stomach.

You’ve had him before. You’ve barely made it. You still want him to rearrange your guts.

“Feel that?” he groans. “That’s what you do to me, that’s what’s been driving me insane all day, darling.”

He’s not even pretending anymore, his cock is throbbing, massive, already leaking. He aligns himself between your soaked folds, rutting the tip against your pussy a few times like he’s lost control of his body entirely. You moan at the friction. Every nerve ending screaming.

You know he’s gonna wreck you. You weren’t ready. But at the same time you’ve never been more ready.

He grabs your thigh and lifts it against the wall, before whispering against your lips. “I’m sorry…”

He pushes his hips forward, and when he finally slides home with a snap … raw, hard, you let out a strangled scream.

One long, broken sound, high pitched and helpless, because he stretches you brutally, all at once, bottoming out with a growl. An actual growl. Like he finally felt some type of relief since he got hit with the pollen.

You fight back a cry, lunging forward to bite his shoulder. He starts fucking you into the wall as he whispers ‘I love you’ ‘thank you’ ‘sorry’ like some sort of chant. Like it’s the only thing keeping him rooted to the version of him that is still careful with you when you have sex.

Your breath leaves you in a gasp, your bare back against the cold plaster, legs around his waist, and arms clinging to his biceps for dear life. All you can do is moan as you get adjusted to his unfairly thick cock slamming in and out of you.

��Just like that … you’re taking me so well,” he pants. “You can do it, sweetheart … you’re doing so good … fuck, you were made for this … made for me.”

His hands grip your thighs. He fucks you like he’s possessed, no rhythm, no thought into it, just deep, hard thrusts that hit something devastating every time, shaking the wall with every slam of his hips.

And the whole time, he keeps whimpering into your neck.

“I love you … I’m sorry … I love you …I’m gonna ruin you …I need it…”

You think you’re about to white out when the room starts moving, but you quickly realize what’s happening.

He’s lifting your bodies off the ground.

Still fucking you.

Going up as much as your ceiling allowed him too. He pins you high on the wall when his head touches the roof, like gravity doesn’t apply anymore. It never does, not to you, not to him.

So now you’re fucking hovering. Literally. Unable to do anything but take it.

And you feel him like never before. A complete moaning mess. Nails dragging down his back, mouth open in shock as you look down to the floor. Your whole body is a live wire, and he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

His cock twitches inside you. He’s already close. Has been since he walked through that window. But he’s holding it, fighting it, because he needs to stay inside. Needs to keep taking. You can’t.

“Fuck Clark … I’m gonna–“

“Yes? do it … darling please, you’re doing so well. I’ve got you … cum all over this cock baby I got you.”

Your body breaks before you can breathe. Your first climax of the night hits hard, clenching down on him, while you pant into his chest. Your whole body goes limp and he feels it.

He fucks you through it. Rough thrusts with his hand stroking your back and the other wrapped under your thighs. He keeps thanking you as his cock splits you open over and over.

“I wanna give you everything,” he groans, voice cracking. “Fill you up, stuff you full of me … Can I? Please? Let me finish inside you …. let me have you–“

“Yes, yes, fill me up,” you blurt out, still seeing stars.

He slams in once more and chokes, hips locked, whole body shuddering as he comes with a moan so broken it feels like it came from his soul. He shakes as he fills you, mouth pressed to your neck.

He doesn’t pull out yet. He holds you there, trembling, pressed against the wall like he knows you’ll fall if he loosens his grip.

Even after the first wave passes, after the groans, the shaking, the desperate I love you’s, he holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this planet.

“…Are you okay?”

You just nod, breathless, a blissed out smile in your face. He smiles too. And then, slowly, he lowers you back down to the floor.

But he’s not soft for long. He doesn’t even give you a minute to recover. He can’t. The second round starts before the first one even finishes sinking in.

You’re still trembling in his arms, leaking down your thighs, whimpering his name into the crook of his neck. And he’s still inside you. Still painfully hard.

Still needing you.

“One more, please. Just–just one more,” he begs. “Let me have you again. Please, darling I need it.”

“Take it Clark, take all you need,” you nod, absolutely wrecked.

But what’s a few more rounds with your unearthly strong boyfriend?

He melts.

You usually go multiple rounds, but he’s softer, he gives you downtime, even brings you water in between orgasms. But right now he can’t believe the way he fucked you and you still let him have more. But he needs more. The pollen is fogging his brain.

He finally pulls out, just to set you down on the floor. The second your back hits the rug, he’s on top of you again. And god he’s heavy. Solid. He doesn’t even hold his weight like he usually does because all he’s thinking about is fucking you senseless.

He buries himself deep again, groaning, cursing under his breath. You close your eyes, nails digging the carpet, back arching when you feel him deeper from this angle. You pant small whines from the feeling.

“Shhh … don’t–“ he coos, he wants to be slow, but he can’t. His hips snap hard without even thinking. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart … so good for me… just need one more.”

You know it’s not just one more. And he fucking knows that too.

None of you cares.

“You’re so wet … so perfect” he groans, the filthy sound gushing loudly every time he thrusted. “I didn’t even give you time to come down … didn’t even let you breathe and you still take me so well”

He praises. Worships. He looks down to where your bodies meet, and he sees right through your skin. He can see his huge cock filling you with every thrust. He can see your walls clenching around him. And he looses it.

You’re suddenly running out of air when he presses his chest to yours, pining you tighter to the floor with his body as he pushes harder. And you feel all of him. The broadness of his chest against your ribs. The strain of his thighs bracketing yours. His cock still buried deep, rock hard.

You hit his bicep with your hand first, but he’s not paying attention, he’s too caught up on the way your pussy takes him to notice.

It’s not smooth. Not rhythmic. Just sharp, ragged thrusts that hit you so hard your body jerks on impact, tits bouncing, nails clawing at his back as he crushes you into the floor with every rut of his hips.

Your head starts spinning.

“Clark,” you choke out, hitting his bicep again. “I can’t–can’t breathe…”

His head finally snaps at you, eyes going wide. He lifts up a bit, but he doesn’t pull out, he just … can’t.

You finally gasp for air as he shushes you softly, tucking away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“I’m sorry … I can’t … can’t stop. I tried, I swear I tried,” his forehead presses to yours, without crushing you alive this time.

His hips don’t stop moving. You pant between moans. You’re close again, you can feel it.

“It’s okay, you’re just … you’re so big …so heavy.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I know. I just … I don’t want to let you go–”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t let me go.”

His expression breaks. Because he knows. And you know. He’s not really letting you go. Not all the way. He’s still pressing his weight into you, even as he tries not to. Because he needs to. Because letting go means losing you, even just for a second.

He doesn’t know what takes over him, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head. Watching you sob, moan, eyes rolling back, skin already bruising in multiple places by his grip. He’s not like this. He should be apologizing. Begging. But you just feel so damn good.

And you like it, god you love it.

“I–I love it when you fuck me like this,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper, dumb smile on your face as he hits that spot repeatedly. “I just- I can’t…”

“I know darling, I know … just a little more,” he groans. “One more please. You can take it …you’re doing so good.” He soothes, but he can’t slow down, not when you’re clenching him like that.

He picks up the pace.

“C-Clark … please, I’m gonna-“

“I’ve got you, darling …I’ve got you, let yourself go for me.”

You see white this time. You’re not even moaning anymore. Just gasping. Twitching. Letting him take what he needs because you want to. Because this is Clark, your Clark, and you’d give him your whole body a thousand times if he needed it.

And he does.

He fucks you like you’re his last breath.

Even after you’re wrecked, limp, twitching … he keeps going.

You don’t even remember the next time he finishes. Or the time after that. Or where it happened. Your body is a mess, trembling and raw and wet and full. Marked. Praised.

All while he keeps saying, “Just one more … just let me stay inside you a little longer… please sweetheart, I’m still hard I know you can take it … this is the last time I promise…”

Again and again. You’ve never heard him lie so much before.

Yet still, with your hair splayed, legs shaking, literal tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, the pain, the strain, the goddamn pollen he pumps into your body every time he comes…

You are having the time of your life being drunk on his cock.

“Fuck me harder.”

You beg, even when you can’t feel it anymore. Maybe that’s why you need it harder … deeper.

And because you knew that once he came back to normal he wouldn’t fuck you like this again. And he makes sure to let you know.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I just need you so fucking much … I love you I love you I love you—”

You just nod, because it hurts embarrassingly good.

You lose count of how many times he comes in total. How many times you come. You only know time’s passed when the sky starts to lighten outside your broken window, and Clark is rocking into you so slowly it’s more like he’s just holding you in place, his mouth pressed to your shoulder, whispering thank you with every lazy thrust.

By the time he finally slows down, finally wears the substance out of his body after dumping it all inside you … you can’t move. You’re limp in his arms, boneless and dripping and his.

Your bed feels incredibly soft in contrast to all the spots he fucked you on last night.

You’re draped across his chest, tracing the muscles under his bare skin. His fingers are in your hair. Barely moving, just tracing small patterns. Soothing you like he didn’t cause all the pain in your body.

You’re still trembling a little. Just from… after. Your body’s still echoing with everything he gave you. Everything he took.

Worth it.

Clark kisses your temple. He hasn’t stopped kissing you every few minutes. It’s like he’s trying to apologize without saying it. Like he’s trying to prove that he’s still the man you love, the man who flinches when he bumps your head by accident, who picks you flowers and gets flustered when you kiss him in public. The one who always put you first in bed.

Not the one who just broke the sound barrier flying to your apartment because his cock told him to.

“…I broke your window,” he finally breaks the silence, a chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your ear.

“Clark … you broke a lot more than my window.”

You both start giggling … glowing. Your throat hurts, you’re sore, probably can’t even walk today or the whole week, and somehow, it feels like the safest place on Earth.

“I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “You said it like 87 times while destroying me.”

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

I created a blog dedicated to Superman, where I’ll be posting my writing for him from now on 🫶🏼 so if you wanna check it out, go to -> @404superman

Feedback and sharing is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading <3

[imtired-likerllytired]

Things that have 100% happened in the dc universe

Damian very frustrated with both his parents climbing through dicks window: Grayson who is your most recent paramour

Jason who got hurt in haven so he snuck in and is eating Dicks ice cream: huh?

Damian: you’re not Grayson

Jason: and thank god for it, why do you wanna know who dicks “paramour” is

Damian: I don’t have to explain myself to you

Dick leaving the kitchen holding a second tub of ice cream: oh hey dami, what’s up

Damian: which one of your redheads is your lover this month?

Jason: *chocking on his ice cream*

Dick pinching the bridge of his nose: Damian we’ve talked about this, they’re not MY redheads, I also don’t exclusively date redheads.

Damian: …so which one is it?

Jason: he clocked you there

Dick: shut up Jason and eat your ice cream

Dick: why do you wanna know Dames

Damian: research

Dick: I’m seeing Kori right now

Damian: ah the alien, she is strong

Dick a little dreamily: yeah… yeah she is

Damian: she will make a fine mother

Jason: *putting his ice cream down* what

Dick: what?!?

Damian: do you think if you were to court her with the intent to marry she would adopt the family habit of picking up strays.

Dick: damian i am so so so confused right now please explain

Jason: please so I can go back to my ice cream without it being a choking hazard

Damian: I am making but a simple inquiry Richard

Dick: we both know you don’t talk like that anymore, spill

Damian: …mother is being… bothersome

Dick: fork found in kitchen, Talia found making mine and Bruce’s life hell.

Damian: let me rephrase, I am finding mother bothersome

Dick: oh?

Jason: OH?

Damian rambling a bit: yes and since you were a far superior Batman, and I am the son of the bat and of course there was the many discussions of adoption before we knew that father would return

Jason: THERE WAS DISCUSSIONS OF WHAT NOW DICKHEAD

Dick: not the time Jay

Jason: nuh uh definitely the time Dicolas, you were gonna adopt the pipsqueak??

Dick: yeah jay, Bruce was dead I was raising him? What would you rather I kept him as ward for a decade and messed him up??

Jason: your issues with Bruce are showing

Damian: when are they not-

Dick: Hey!

Jason: HA! Even the kid clocked you

Damian: AS I was saying, as I am finding mother bothersome and I always find father bothersome. I have simply decided I must find people who are a better for the position

Dick: of your parents?

Damian: yes exactly

Jason: I feel like I’m on lifetime rn

Dick: and you want me to? What? Call Kori and ask her if she wants to join me in adopting her on again off again boyfriend’s brother. Who mind you is the biological son of Batman whose contingency for her going rogue is literally to get her hooked on what is essentially space coke and ruin her life.

Jason: Bruce has SPACE COCAINE???

Damian: nonsense Richard

Dick: okay so then what-

Damian: i cut out the middle man and sent her a message approximately 5 minutes ago

Dick: kid we’ve talked about this.. boundaries

Jason: fuck this weird ass family dynamic, you’re telling me Bruce Wayne has god damn space coke

Dick: he’s Batman jase, he has literally everything

Jason:…. Do you think space coke works on Superman

Dick: I’m not answering that

Jason: BECAUSE YOU KNOW, DID BRUCE GIVE CLARK SPACE COKE

Dick: I will answer any and all questions, if you get me out of this conversation with Damian

Damian: there is no need, your partner has agreed to the adoption on the grounds that you two are to be wed.

Dick: what-

Damian: she says to be at the courthouse tomorrow at 1pm

Dick: huh-

Damian leaving out of the window he came through: see you tomorrow Richard

Dick: WAIT. What? Which court house? Which country??? I’m pretty sure Kori’s in Japan? Hey wait damian? Get BAck HERe what?

Jason slowly reaching for his ice cream again: so space cocaine?

Dick: I was an only child for 18 years? Couldn’t Bruce let me keep my damn streak

Jason: hey! I was also dead for 3 years before bruce adopted tim, technically you’ve been an only child for 21 years of your life

Dick: shut up

Jason: tell me about the space coke Richard

[zziggerang]

Hanging up without saying “I love you” prank

Pairing: Clark Kent x Female!Reader

Status: One-Shot

Word Count: ~1.2k

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Established Relationship, TikTok prank, Soft!Clark, female reader.

Summary: You decide to prank Clark by hanging up on him without saying “I love you.” It’s just a harmless TikTok trend, right?

My masterlist

It started as a joke. A dumb TikTok trend.

You were scrolling on your free time when the algorithm blessed you with a video captioned “Hanging up without saying I love you on my boyfriend to see how he reacts.”

The girl in the video ended the call casually and the guy instantly called back, mildly panicked, adorably confused.

You had to admit, the temptation was real.

And okay, yeah, maybe it was a little mean. But Clark? He was the sweetest. He’d call you “my love” like he was born in the 1800s, he always kissed your forehead like he’d never see you again, and he refused to hang up the phone without an “I love you.” Ever.

So obviously, you had to try it.

You leaned against your desk, grinning as you picked up your phone and hit “My Superman💙💙💙” on speed dial.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

His voice was warm, velvet soft, and somehow always full of relief like just hearing you made everything in his day better.

“Hey, baby. Just checking in. How’s your day?”

He sighed gently. “Long. Bunch of back-to-back interviews. Cat spilled coffee all over my notes, again. But seeing your face at lunch made it better.”

You smiled despite yourself. “She did look guilty.”

“She did not,” he said, deadpan. “She smirked.”

You laughed. “Okay, okay. I gotta head back to work. Talk later.”

“Okay, I love you, bye.”

And with that, you hung up.

No “I love you too.”

You grinned. And waited.

It didn’t take long.

Your phone buzzed five seconds later. Clark Calling.

You answered, keeping your voice innocent. “Hello?”

There was a pause.

“…Did we get cut off?” he asked slowly.

“No, why?.”

Another beat of silence.

You could feel him thinking on the other end.

“…You didn’t say it back,” he said softly.

Your stomach twisted a little at the confusion in his tone.

“Say what?”

“You know.”

You smiled, gently teasing. “Do I?”

“Sweetheart.” His voice dropped an octave. “Are you mad at me?”

Your heart cracked a little. “What? No!”

“You always say it. You never hang up without saying it.”

He sounded genuinely thrown. Not angry, just off. Like his whole emotional compass had glitched.

“I mean,” he added quickly, “it’s okay if you forgot. Or if you’re just busy. I just— I thought maybe I did something.”

Guilt hit you like a truck. Or maybe a train.

You instantly felt like the worst girlfriend on the planet.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “It was just a TikTok prank. The ‘hang up without saying I love you’ one. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Clark was silent for a second.

Then: “A TikTok prank?”

“…Yeah.”

“You did this to me for a video trend?”

You winced. “I wasn’t recording it. I just thought it’d be funny.”

A pause.

Then he sighed. Deeply. Dramatically.

“I fought Kaiju,” he muttered. “I saved the world from alien and monstrous creatures invasion. But somehow this—this—is what takes me down.”

You burst into laughter.

“I’m serious,” he said, though you could hear the smile in his voice now. “I felt like I stepped into an alternate dimension. You always say it. My brain thought we broke up.”

You snorted. “From one phone call?”

“You don’t understand,” he said seriously, “I live in a state of constant anxiety. I love you so much it physically hurts. Don’t play with my fragile heart.”

“Clark…”

“Say it,” he demanded softly.

You bit your lip, heart warm. “I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Clark.”

He chuckled. “Just making up for the one I missed.”

You could practically see his dimpled smile through the phone.

After a beat, he said, “You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“You just declared prank war. And I’m not above using my powers.”

“…Clark.”

“X-ray vision. Super-speed. Perfect memory. You don’t stand a chance.”

You groaned. “What have I done?”

He laughed. “Too late now. Love you, prankster.”

“Love you more.”

He paused. “Don’t hang up this time.”

You didn’t.

[midniqhtt]

ᯓ★ clark kent - superman

𝜗𝜚 masterlist • dc • 08/01/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two II one II gif credit - @/newavengers

here are some clark kent stories i’ve read, loved, and reblogged. all the admiration for the writers who share their talent so generously. please be sure to read the warnings on each fic. and if you enjoy them, let the author know by a comment, reblog, or both! ♡

ᝰ.ᐟ key: A- angst I F- fluff I S- smut I C- comfort I HC- hurt/comfort I ~S- implied smut I

ꨄ︎ clark kent hcs I @404superman I F

ꨄ︎ sex pollen I @dearwalker I S

When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.

ꨄ︎ don’t want you like a best friend I @se7entyrell I F + S

the one in which jimmy olsen is tired of watching you and clark dance around your feelings, and decides to do something about it, aka the one where clark fucks you at a daily planet gala.

ꨄ︎ honey i love you, that’s all she wrote I @/se7entyrell I F

The one in which Clark Kent has a wife and daughter that give the word home a whole new meaning.

ꨄ︎ blurb pt2 pt3 I @callsign-swan I F

Superman is dating someone pink and Clark Kent totally isn't jealous.

ꨄ︎ blurb I @/callsign-swan I F

Your first time meeting krypto had Clark worried, to say the least.

ꨄ︎ clark kent and the lavender skirt I @luveline I F

You like to rush things. Clark takes things slow until he can’t anymore. (Or, you attempt to seduce your coworker in a series of little skirts, and while Clark falls in love with all of you, the skirts don’t hurt.)

ꨄ︎ time lost in a warm lap I @/luveline I F + ~S

Clark stays the night for the first time.

ꨄ︎ cute panties I @/luveline I F + ~S

ꨄ︎ request I @ddejavvu I ~S

ꨄ︎ request I @/ddejavvu I F

ꨄ︎ gold rush I @goldenlikedayl1ght I A + F

your boyfriend's dog gives you a concussion and it's not even the worst part of your week.

ꨄ︎ business of flirting I @fluentmoviequoter I F

You flirt with Clark Kent every time he comes into your coffee shop. When he finally realizes you do it for more reason than watching him shy away from you, he realizes you're not so different.

ꨄ︎ baby, it’s you! I @bodhiscurls I A + F

clark kent finally works up the courage to ask you to dinner; only to run behind on work with lois and completely stand you up. it's fine, you're three glasses of wine in and ready to rant at your friend lois' door, only to find the cause of tonight's rage sitting there on her sofa. now, clark has to find a way to tell you the truth; that this is all a misunderstanding and it's only ever been you. it will always be you.

ꨄ︎ where do we go now? I @/bodhiscurls I A

you don't know where he disappears to- there's always excuses: he's caught up at work, stuck in traffic, some stupid alien attack cut him up on his commute. but now more than ever when you need him to show up at a family dinner where you planned to introduce him to your parents, he still comes in pieces and enough is enough.

ꨄ︎ you and i- we’re in this for life I @/bodhiscurls I A + F

it's your wedding day, you've dreamed of this for moment for months to finally marry the love of your life so why does it feel like you just can't breathe. it's the shoes, the dress, the people you don't even know waiting for you outside- good thing clark doesn't believe in it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding- he has the best luck in the world to be marrying you.

ꨄ︎ you are in love I @/bodhiscurls I F

all the chances clark has to confess his feelings for you never feels like the right time; that's until you're gone out of town for a work trip and he can't deny how his soul yearns for yours in a way he can no longer hold it together, even if it means declaring it in a sea of people at baggage claims.

ꨄ︎ nonsense I @xxepherr I F

in which clark kent thinks he's the one keeping a superhero secret in your relationship, but really, it's you.

ꨄ︎ fortress I @charmedntruer I F

tasked to take clark to the safest possible place he can recover from the pocket universe, you come to a few new revelations of your own upon seeing where clark was raised in the countryside.

ꨄ︎ starboy I @buckysfaveplum I HC

recovering from kryptonite poisoning back home in Kansas leaves your relationship with Clark a bit confused. you’ve always been his rock- his best friend. but now, back on the farm, maybe there was always something more

ꨄ︎ krypto, take me home I @/buckysfaveplum I C

when Clark can’t make it to the fortress, Krypto brings him to you

ꨄ︎ groupie I @/buckysfaveplum I F

he’s your punkrocker. your star. but sometimes you wonder if you’re just a groupie, if he sees you the same

ꨄ︎ tell-tale heart I @/buckysfaveplum I F

clark can't help but indulge when he hears how fast your heartbeat gets around him

ꨄ︎ drabble I @hearts4hughes I F

trying to give clark a hickey

ꨄ︎ phases to love I @/hearts4hughes I A + F

ꨄ︎ table for two I @/hearts4hughes I A

ꨄ︎ request I @/hearts4hughes I F

ꨄ︎ drabble I @rotapathetic I F

no one laughs at clark’s jokes but you

ꨄ︎ stood up I @shadybinature I A + S

Superman has to save the world, so Clark Kent stands you up....again.

ꨄ︎ where the leashes tangle I @writing-for-marvel I F

While walking Krypto, Clark ends up entangled with you and your puppy.

ꨄ︎ blurb I @milkbean69 I S

leaked sextape

ꨄ︎ jealous of jimmy I @plaidcowboy I F

clark becomes upset and a little insecure about the fact that you and jimmy have been so close recently, but thankfully you’re there to reassure him that he still has his chance with you!

ꨄ︎ clingy clark I @/plaidcowboy I C

after insecurely taking advice from jimmy and spending hours online, clark distances himself from you. scared he might’ve overwhelmed you with his clinginess. all for a crying clark to come back home to you.

ꨄ︎ where superman ends and clark begins I @/plaidcowboy I A

you and clark had just had one of the worst fights, leaving you to question whether there’s still room for your relationship, and clark to juggle the weight of being both superman and himself.

ꨄ︎ meeting ma and pa kent I @/plaidcowboy I F

after dating for a little under a year, clark finally brings you to smallville to meet his parents.

ꨄ︎ clark kent hcs I @fear-is-truth

ꨄ︎ boy meets girl I @/fear-is-truth I F

when your dog breaks free mid-kaiju attack, chasing after her lands you straight into superman’s arms.

ꨄ︎ wayne strategies I @athenalvss I F

In revenge against your brother, you went to work in Metropolis and perhaps your brother's league partner makes you put into action the Wayne strategies to have the person you want.

ꨄ︎ drabble I @cherrysinner I F

having clark be mean to you in front of his parents.

ꨄ︎ anti-bullying assembly I @/cherrysinner I F

when your school's principal catches you on the phone with superman, not realizing it's your husband, you come up with an excuse as to why you were on the phone with him.

ꨄ︎ i saw mom kissing superman I @/cherrysinner I A + F

your daughter accidentally catches you with your lips locked with superman and thinks you're cheating on her father.

ꨄ︎ a small(ville) proposal I @/cherrysinner I F

your boyfriend can't figure out how he wants to propose to you, until jimmy gives him an idea.

ꨄ︎ underneath the covers I @neilsbeloved I F + S

freshman year of college has you going insane. good thing clark has a knack for knowing exactly when to sweep you off your feet, way before any unwanted crashouts happen.

ꨄ︎ on the record I @kingkat12 I F + S

finally, you get that interview with Superman that could make or break your career-- however, it will be done his way, or no way.

ꨄ︎ night’s so blue I @junleb I F

it's rare for two reporters to be assigned to the same movie. how convenient that you already have a good relationship with clark. or, this is too good to be true. it isn't a set-up, right?

ꨄ︎ unfold your love pt2 I @/junleb I F

jimmy olsen and the mystery of two idiots who are definitely not in love

ꨄ︎ you can see it with the lights out I @junleb I F

ꨄ︎ poisonivy!reader hcs pt2 I @poge-life

ꨄ︎ my hero pt2 I @jungkooklover777 I F + A

an office romance sounds good in theory but what happens when it goes according to theory?

ꨄ︎ tornado warnings I @thatfoxygrl I F

ꨄ︎ couldn’t make it any harder I @/thatfoxygrl I A + F

when you're known around school for being avoidant, clark wonders if theres any truth to the rumors and challenges himself to break down your walls and get to know the real you

ꨄ︎ silver springs I @/thatfoxygrl I A

you and clark had a unique relationship, one you've never doubted until one day the lies become too much and the secrets – including the reason he's so infatuated with his ex-girlfriend, lois lane – all come crashing down.

ꨄ︎ journalist!reader I @killishin I F

ꨄ︎ stop avoiding me I @/killishin I F

ꨄ︎ kissing clark kent I @sunsburns I F

ꨄ︎ rivals to lovers pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9 pt10 pt11 pt12 I @messylxve I F + HC

ꨄ︎ a lesson in trust falling I @swordgrace I F

you’re not fond of flying — thankfully, your boyfriend is superman.

ꨄ︎ places we were made I @codenamefalcon I F

Smallville will always be Clark’s home. It was where he was raised. It was where his parents were. It was where you were. During one week long visit, he finally decides to brave the leap from friendship to something more with you, but something gets in the way. Fortunately for Clark, he’s dedicated to proving just how much you mean to him, and you’re a sucker for a trip down memory lane.

ꨄ︎ all makes sense I @musingsofheaven I S

The obsession of other interns had with him never made sense. Not until one night… drinks turned into something more. It’s so good that it makes all those promises to never be one of the girls giggling over Clark Kent feel ridiculous. But now it makes sense. God, now it does.

ꨄ︎ the sound of my voice (will haunt you) I @orobaxis I A

ꨄ︎ bring me sunshine I @eupheme I S

ꨄ︎ eyes like pretty lights I @fawnindawn I F

surprising clark with a visit at the daily planet, it sparks memories of the past and how some things never change, especially clark's eyes that still shine like pretty lights only for you. seeing your best friend in metropolis after so long, it might be hard for you to leave him again- especially when he doesn't want you to.

ꨄ︎ till i lose it I @/fawnindawn I A + F

Clark finds himself feeling jealous for the first time when you get assigned on a case with Jimmy Olsen, and start spending more time with the photojournalist instead of him.

ꨄ︎ bad friend pt2 I @twiceasbright I A + F

your best friend asks you to set her up with clark kent, who's your work crush. despite your feelings for him, you agree- for the sake of your friend. but things go awry when you panic and end up accidentally asking him out yourself. now you have to find a way to fix it before things go too far.

ꨄ︎ no strings attached… unless? I @kryptoclark I A + F + S

what was supposed to be a simple no-strings hookup between best friends turns complicated when feelings inevitably get involved. huh. who would've thought?

ꨄ︎ who’s calling my phone? I @prettypeeling I F

clark has a crush on the daily planet's receptionist.

ꨄ︎ cemetery girl pt2 I @vaamppiraa I A

in which you and clark are married, but after an accident, you lose your memory

ꨄ︎ you deserve it I @blank-potato I S

Clark has a tough day so you decide to make him feel better. You both just hope your neighbours don't kill you with how loud the two of you tend to get.

ꨄ︎ hit me hard and soft I @sceletaflores I S

ꨄ︎ locked out I @thatcorporategirlie I F

You find yourself locked out of your apartment, so your very attractive neighbor Clark offers you to hang out at his and eat some pizza until your friend arrives with your spare key.

ꨄ︎ big blue softy I @starryevermore I C

you have a minor surgery and clark is more than happy to take care of you. 

ꨄ︎ meet the kents I @isaadore I F

clark takes you home to meet his parents and spends the entire trip being an embarrassing, love-sick puppy.

ꨄ︎ unmasked I @sunsherbet I A + C

In which you want your boyfriend, not superman, to save you

ꨄ��� one-shot I @p3terparker I F

you confess your feelings for clark, not knowing he’s listening to everything you’re saying.

ꨄ︎ benny and the jets I @snooperzz I A + C

After the reader/oc tries and fails to get back into the dating scene, Clark Kent swoops in to save the day.

ꨄ︎ technical difficulties I @hauntedhowlett-writes I S

As an IT specialist for The Daily Planet, you’re no stranger to Clark Kent’s struggles with technology. When he calls you on your personal phone with an after hours emergency, of course you’re willing to help him out. He shows his gratitude in an interesting way.

ꨄ︎ you make me wanna make you fall in love I @cerisereids I A + F

You’re the new assistant at the Daily Planet. Your job is to run errands, get coffees, and not fall in love with the handsome man in glasses.

[digitald0rk]

OVERSTIMULATING YOUR ALIEN BOYFRIEND !

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — what the title says 👅 stumbled upon this on twt and immediately thought of mark grayson. [ the link is porn btw so yeah fair warning ]

warnings — uhh porn with no plot :p

a/n — first post really nervous, i don't really write nsfw a lot so yeah mb if this is bad :( i just really had to get it out there LMFAO. i need him so bad it's actually insane. mark grayson get out my head challenge : impossible!

thinking about mark grayson being a good boy for you <3

jerking him off after a particularly stressful mission, his small moans turning into full blown whimpers and whines as he tries not to blow his load right then and there because he's a good boy, he knows better.

"baby please, please"

please just let him cum already! why are you being so mean to him, he's your sweet boy isn't he? :(

and when you give him the permission he'd been aching for, begging for, he blabbers small thank you's over and over in his whiny voice as he reaches that sweet relief, painting your hand in his sticky hot release.

he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering shut, practically panting as he tries to calm down from that intense orgasm- wait wait no, don't touch him there he's still all sensitive!

he groans, his eyes snapping open when he feels the familiar rhythm of your hand stroking his pretty cock :( he lets out embarrassingly loud noises, he can't do this again! but god it feels so good he can't help himself from bucking his hips up into your ruthless hand, wanting more.

"i can't, oh god i- i can't!" he whimpers, his body seemingly moving on it's own to chase that release again despite his words.

praise him, coo at him and he's all putty in your hands in an instant, willing to give you whatever you want, even if it renders him to an overstimulated pathetic mess, anything for his sweetheart.

his back arches off the bed, leaning into your touch, eyes all glossy as he loses himself in the pleasure you give him. another loud groan of your name rips from the back of his throat as he cums again.

he nearly cries when you don't stop jerking him off, are you trying to milk him dry? mindless babbles and sounds leave his pretty mouth as you use his previous load as lube, gently kissing his tears like you aren't the one overstimulating him.

he squirms and twitches under your touch, giving up on controlling his noises. the pleasure he feels bordering on painful but it only adds to the bliss, it feels so good he swears he sees stars, the only thing on his mind is you.

and when you pinch his nipples and tease them with your tongue, he knows he's done for.

his tears don't stop and neither do his moans of your name, just like your hand against his cock. he makes an effort to not scream your name when he cums for the third time in the span of such a short time by biting down on his bottom lip, he bites down so hard it draws blood. the muscles on his abdomen clenching and unclenching and you swear you've never seen a sight so beautiful.

your boyfriend looks so good like this, it's actually downright unfair how pretty he looks all blissed out like this.

the strongest man on the planet all pliant and needy under you is sure an ego boost.

and absolutely none of that helps with your own growing arousal.

his body writhes harder when you kiss him, everything feels so intense, even the kiss. with his brain turned almost all to mush he tries to sloppily kiss you back, all tongue and teeth accompanied by his soft whimpers which make you giggle.

and normally he'd laugh with you too if he wasn't all flushed and sweaty and acting like a dog in heat. his eyes still glossy as his chest heaves with the uneven breaths he takes.

and to no one's surprise he's still somewhat hard, viltrumite genes do wonders to your libido it seems.

"can you give me another one mark?" my god are you fucking crazy?! let him breathe!

but how can he deny his baby? especially when you look at him like that, but he's not even sure he can cum anymore and-

"please?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

and yeah, he's a goner.

it's gonna be a long night.

© digitald0rk 2025. please do not steal my work, thank u. interactions, like and reblogs are highly appreciated. tysm for reading and i hope you have a good day / night >:3 want more? click here ★

[wingfleur]

thinking about sitting on clark kent’s lap while you vent after a long day of work.

it doesn’t matter if you’re a journalist at the daily planet, or a lawyer, or currently in school with a part-time job to help hold you over. whatever it may be, you can always count on clark to listen to you while you debrief, his hands on your thighs as you rant and rave about your boss being a dick yet again.

clark’s interest in your day is always genuine. he’s a guy who truly cares about the little things— hell, he’s probably the first superhero to ever pause mid-battle to save a squirrel from getting crushed, even when the world-at-large is clearly at stake. that’s one of the things you love about him— how his heart seems to rule everything he does, rather than his head— and because of that, you never have to worry about whether he’s being authentic or not. but heart of gold aside, clark’s far from good at everything.

and one thing about clark is that he’s never been a good actor.

“clark,” you say to him suddenly, the sound of your voice forcing him to straighten up. his eyes painfully pry themselves away from the curve of your lips to meet your eyes— which he finds beautiful too, don’t get him wrong— but alongside their usual admiration for him, he finds that they regard him with an endless amount of mirth.

ah, fuck. he’s been caught, hasn’t he?

“you’ve been staring at my lips for the past 5 minutes,” you say, chastising him softly. “did you hear a single word i said?”

yeah. he’s definitely been caught.

“i— god, sorry,” clark says quietly, blue eyes helplessly falling back to your lips. he’s in no position to be making excuses, and he really doesn’t mean to keep staring at you like this, but, god, he can’t seem to help it! all clark wants is to kiss you really, really badly right now, because no matter how much you like to deny it, he finds you absolutely stunning when you’re all ready for bed and talking his ear off. but despite his desperation, clark was raised to be a gentleman, not a dog. he acknowledges that there’s a proper order to these things: first, he should listen to you talk, then validate your feelings, and wait until you declare yourself finished before making a move, but clark’s never been all that good at controlling himself and, if you keep going, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to—

you’re leaning down to kiss him before he can even complete that thought.

clark melts into the kiss like clockwork. those big, strong hands of his that have been drawing mindless circles into the skin of your thighs begin to knead them softly, palms slowly creeping up to disappear under your his sleep shirt. he squeezes the fat of your hips and waist firmly until you pull back to rest your forehead against his, and he’s disoriented enough for his pupils to dilate in a way is distinctly inhuman, but so incredibly clark kent that it makes it endearing, rather than unsettling.

oh, you love your alien boyfriend.

“was that enough for you, supes?” you say coyly, a hand gliding effortlessly from his shoulder into his hair. your fingers tangle into the cropped curls at his nape and clark’s eyes flutter shut from the feeling, the weight of his head falling lax in your palm. he swallows dryly and cracks a crooked, boyish smile at you before opening his eyes back up.

“not really, but it’ll do.” clark stares up at you adoringly, giving you the opportunity to watch those pupils of his finally return to normal. “the good news is that i’m not all that distracted anymore.”

you roll your eyes at him, but clark grins slyly, his thumbs tracing lightly across your stomach.

“i think superman can behave himself until you finish what you were saying.”

# — navigation

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] exclusive care package

Summary: LIs react when you pamper them - they indulge you and let you do their skincare/nails, then show it off the next day at work. (From a submitted prompt! edited: typos+ g/n reader for all)

Genre: Fluff <3 TW: suggestiveness

SYLUS

You corner him in his study, walking up to him and spinning his chair to face you with a bright, innocent smile that tells him you're up to no good.

You expect resistance when you pull out the nail polish. Instead, Sylus extends his hands with a smirk. “Ah, good. Something to keep me entertained while I go through these transaction records.”  

"Better than that," you purr, moving his hand onto the armrest as you sink to your knees. 

He arches a brow. "Kitten, as tempting as you look right now… take a seat with me. Or else your knees will match the shade of the polish." 

You end up sitting with your back against his chest as you unscrew the cap. "Alright, time to transform you into my hot goth boyfriend." 

He chuckles but surrenders his hand, watching with amused fascination as you paint each nail with meticulous care. When you blow gently to dry them, his free hand sneaks up to your midriff from behind and presses you closer against his chest. "Why don't we have some time to ourselves while we wait for the paint to dry?"  

“We can't- because you'll get paint everywhere,”

You jump when you feel his lips brush against the side of your neck. “Oh, kitten. I don't have to use my hands at all. Not if you stay still for me.”

You find out what exactly he means- him, leaving a litany of marks along your neck, and you, a blushing, breathless mess as he continues his way down to your shoulder. “You said I shouldn't use my hands,” he murmurs when you protest.

::

The next day, Luke and Kieran freeze mid-report when they notice his gleaming black nails.  

Luke clears his throat. “Sir. Your hands.”  

Kieran nods. “They look… new.”  

Sylus chuckles, flexing his fingers. His lips curl when he recalls what exactly he did with you after the paint dried. “They are.”  

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne tenses when you place the vitamin C mask over his cheeks, eyes squeezing shut. "This is… moist. And cold." 

"Shhh," you whisper, massaging his temples and smoothing out the corners of the mask. "Doctor’s orders." 

He exhales a laugh, leaning into your touch as you gently drag your fingertips over the softness of his cheeks and the slopes of his nose and jaw.

"…Your hands are warmer than the mask." He observes.

You bring his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. "That’s the point." 

By the end, he’s nearly asleep, his usual sternness melted away. He stirs when the mask is peeled off, his sleepy gaze focusing on you.

When you leave a quick peck on his lips, he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. The cool moisture smears on your skin, drawing out a giggle from you. Seeing your reaction, his arms tighten around you as he watches you squirm with amusement glittering in his hazel eyes.

::

The next morning, Greyson squints at him during rounds. “Did you… moisturize?”  

Zayne’s pen pauses. “It’s called hygiene.”  

Greyson whispers to an intern. “That’s not hygiene. That’s the power of love.”  

_____

XAVIER

Xavier stares at the tiny bottle of magnetic nail polish like it’s alien technology. "It does what?" 

You giggle, dragging the wand over his ring finger, watching the moonstone effect swirl to life. "Magic," you declare. 

Xavier watches with fascination, as you paint his ring and pinky fingers with magnetic polish, swirling the metallic veins with a magnet. “It reminds me of stars and asteroid belts,” he observes.

When you lean in to blow on his nails, he tilts your face up instead, kissing you softly. “Thank you, my starlight,”

He moves his hand to your waist, but you pull away from the kiss with a yelp. He freezes, then looks at you with wide eyes.

“The paint will smear if you move your hand,” you explain sheepishly.

“Mm, I promise not to move it if you kiss me again,”

(He repeats the same request each time you finish painting a new nail)

::

At the Hunter's Association briefing the next day, a junior Hunter notices and blurts, “Sir, your- uh- nails?”  

Xavier, holding them up to the light. “Ah. A gift from my beloved.”  

The junior nods, unsure of how to continue but busies themself with tidying documents, and excuses themselves quickly when another Hunter enters the room to prepare for the next meeting.

(Xavier spends the afternoon tilting his hand to watch the polish shift colors, smiling to himself.) 

______

RAFAYEL 

Rafayel gasps when you tweeze his brow. "This is torture! I looked fine to begin with- ow!" 

You shush him, pressing a cool wet cloth to his skin to soothe it. "Hush. Just a touch-up for the handsome genius." 

He pouts but leans into your hands, sighing dramatically. "Fine. But only because your fingers feel nice." 

When you finish, he grabs a mirror, perfect brows shooting up towards his hairline. "Wow, cutie. That's… impressive.”  

You hum knowingly, then begin dabbing rice water toner over his face with a cotton pad. He lets you do your work with much more compliance now, sighing contentedly at the cool sensation on his skin and enjoying the way your fingers brush over his face gently.

Once you're done, though, he smothers you in a flurry of kisses, grumbling that he had to sit still without getting to touch you back.

You try to scold him for wasting skincare that was meant for him, but he gives you a dazzling grin. “I gotta share some of the good skincare with my cutie.”

::

The next morning, Thomas pauses by the door. “Your face.”  

Rafayel preens. “My skin glows, doesn't it? Fruits of my muse’s labor-”  

“I was going to say suspiciously moist.”  

He scoffs at Thomas. “I hear the jealousy. Now, spare me the boring details and tell me what you need from me. And it'd better not be a new schedule this afternoon- I'm booked for another appointment with my muse.”

______

CALEB

Caleb grumbles as you spread clay over his face. "Is this just mud?"

"Hush, Colonel," you tease, applying the paste with featherlight strokes. “Your skin will thank me,”

He closes his eyes and leans back. “Alright, alright. We'll see how good it really is,”

Later on, after the mask is washed off and replaced by serum, he maneuvers you onto his lap, facing him. He claims that “his personal beautician needs a proper seat”- and he wasn't wrong, but you can see the way his eyes drag over you while you fuss over him.

As you put on the lip mask, your thumb grazes his lower lip. His eyes snap to yours, then down to your lips.

“Nuh ‘air,” he mumbles.

“Not fair? Then you can do my skincare later,” You pat his cheek. “And- just five minutes. Your lips will be extra kissable after this.” 

(He does put that claim to the test after five minutes- and successfully proves the mask effective.)

::

The next day, when Caleb sets off towards his jet with his co-pilot, the man turns to him. “Ahem, Colonel. Your skin.”  

Caleb, rubbing his face. “What about it?”  

“It’s… glowing? Did you polish yourself?”  

Caleb grins. “Nah. My partner did.”  

Note: HELLO lmk what yall think!! this was based on an anon prompt and it was a pretty cute idea HeEHE. i took a 1 week hiatus bc i felt a bit tired from writing but im back and have a few ideas now!! And also got some lovely submissions from yall too. THANK YOU FOR READING AS ALWAYS! <3 Comments and reblogs truly appreciated <33

✨️

[starksweasley]

free fall

pairing: clark kent x reader

summary: you and clark get into a fight, and then the city explodes.

wc: 2.5k+

The slam of the door is deafening. Not because of the sound, but because of what it means. You don’t even flinch. Just march across the room, jaw set, fists clenched so tight your nails dig crescent moons into your palms. You don’t want to see his face right now. Not when you know it’ll be full of that infuriatingly particular mix of fury and worry that he’s so good at disguising as concern.

“You could’ve died,” Clark mutters quietly. 

You exhale through your nose, sharp and hot. “We’re doing this already?”

“You walked into a weapons drop, alone,” he bites out, voice rising like a slow tide. “You had no protection, no plan, and no backup.”

“I had my plan,” you snap, spinning to face him. “It just didn’t involve checking in with my overbearing alien bodyguard first.”

He flinches. Just slightly. But it’s enough.

“Don’t,” he warns. His voice is so low you’re surprised your ears process the decibel. 

Your laugh is dry. “What? You don’t like being talked down to? Imagine how I felt when you showed up halfway through and practically ripped the comm out of my ear in front of everyone like I’m some stupid kid who can’t tie her own shoes.”

“You were going to get killed.”

“I was doing my job.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t let it stop you. “I was doing what I’m good at. What you know I’m good at. But you don’t care about that, do you? You just care that I didn’t stay in the safe little box you always want me in. I can’t spend my whole life waiting for you, Clark!”

His gaze is calm as he stares at you but you don’t miss the way his hands curl into fists at his sides. “That’s not true. Don’t twist this.”

“Oh, I’m twisting things?” you spit. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounds like you think I’m too weak to be trusted with anything real.”

“I didn’t say that,” he growls, stepping closer.

“You didn’t have to,” you exclaim. “You don’t ever have to. You swoop in, rip the roof off, throw some trucks across the parking lot, and suddenly it’s your operation. Your city. Your rules.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“And I never asked you to!”

That stops him. His face falters for half a second, and he blinks like you just struck him with your ring-clad hand.

“I didn’t ask for a superhero boyfriend,” you thunder on, voice shaking now, unable to stop yourself. “I asked for you. And maybe I was an idiot for thinking I could have both.”

His chest rises and falls fast, and his voice comes out quiet and hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t stand there and act like I’m some stranger in a cape. You know me.”

“Do I?” you whisper. “Because lately, it feels like all I see is Superman. Not Clark. Not the man I fell in love with. Just the guy who shows up after the explosions and tells me I should’ve waited for him.”

He’s silent for too long. His mouth opens, then closes. And when he speaks again, his voice is soft. Broken, almost.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

It takes everything in you not to smooth your hands over his chest and soothe that ache in his tone that twists your stomach into knots, but your throat is tight and you take a step back. Your eyes begin to burn and you look down, unwilling to let him see.

“That’s not love, Clark. That’s fear.”

His brow furrows. “No, it’s not—it’s—”

“Yes, it is. You want to love someone who stays behind. Who stays safe. Who doesn’t scare you.”

“Of course you scare me!” he retorts, arms flailing. “Because you’re the one thing in this world I can’t live without. And I can’t make sure you’re okay. Not all the time. I don’t—I don't know how to live with that.”

You open your mouth to answer. To hurl something sharp and hurtful back at him because you’re angry and exhausted and you don’t know what else to do, but you don’t get the chance.

Because everything shakes.

The floor ripples beneath your feet. A massive rumble splits the air like the earth is groaning. You both freeze. 

Then comes the blast. A thunderous, bone-rattling sound from blocks away, light flashing through the apartment window like a silent scream.

Clark turns instinctively, eyes already glowing faintly with panic and focus. He’s halfway to the window before you the words tumble through your lips. 

“Don’t you dare leave right now.”

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders trembling. You know you’re being irrational. You know he has a duty to fulfill and you would never usually stand between him and his job. But your heartbeat is pounding in your ears and the edges of your vision blur with frustration and adrenaline. 

“Don’t you leave in the middle of this,” you say, each word weighted. “Don’t fly away from this like it doesn’t matter.”

He turns, slowly, and his face—god, his face.

You’ve seen him wear pain before. Seen it when he lost people, seen it when the world turned to ash in his hands. But this time it’s different because you know you’re the reason he looks like that. 

His brows are drawn tight, a deep crease forming between them. His mouth is slightly open, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. His eyes are so full of agony you wish your ego would melt away just so you could apologize and kiss his face until they light up again. 

He doesn’t want to leave. Of course he doesn't. You can see it in every inch of him. 

“Please,” you plead, even though you know it’s futile. 

“I don’t want to,” he whispers. “You have to believe me—I don’t want to. I want to stay and fix this. I want to take it all back.”

Your breath catches.

“But I can’t.” Clark’s voice shakes. “People are in danger. If I don’t go, they die.”

You stay silent, blinking fast and shaking your head. He steps forward, just enough to cup your cheek in one hand. His palm is warm, trembling.

“I swear to you,” he says, eyes locked on yours, desperate, “I’ll come back. I’ll come home.”

You close your eyes.

By the time you open them again, he’s gone. Your heart lurches so violently you actually stumble back a step.

The space he just vacated is still vibrating with the gust of his departure, curtains whipping like they’re trying to follow him, like they know how badly you want to. You move on instinct, half numb and half breathless, dragging your feet toward the window.

Your apartment’s on the thirty-second floor. It gives you a perfect view of the city—and of the nightmare unfolding within it.

A fireball licks at the sky just a few blocks down, the explosion now a thick pillar of smoke and ash curling into the air like a monster’s shadow. Windows are shattered. Rubble covers the streets. People are running, screaming—some limping, some carrying others, some not moving at all. A gaping wound has torn itself into the heart of the city.

Your hand flies to your mouth in shock. 

And there he is.

A blue-and-red blur streaks through the sky like a bullet of mercy, and your chest caves in at the sight of him. Superman. Clark. Your Clark.

He’s scooping people from rooftops, using his heat vision to weld a collapsing structure into temporary stability, shielding a group of civilians with his own body as an ambulance drives through the chaos. He looks like a god.

But you know that face. You know the pinch in his brow, the tremble in his jaw when he’s scared out of his mind but has to act like he isn’t. You can feel it in your bones: he’s holding on by a thread.

And you’re still up here.

You’re moving before you’ve fully processed it. You throw on the first shoes you find, tear open the stairwell door, and sprint downward two steps at a time. No time for the elevator. No time for hesitation.

By the time you burst into the street, the world is smoke and screams.

You don’t know where to start. 

There’s a woman with a deep gash in her leg leaning against a crumpled bus. You rush to her, toss her arm over your shoulder, and guide her over broken glass toward a triage area forming near a still-standing corner store. You grab bandages from a supply crate and press them to bleeding skin. You haul debris off a man’s chest with a stranger whose name you never ask. You press a hand to a child’s hair as she sobs in your lap. You hand out water bottles. Every time you look up, you search for blue and red. And every time, there he is—lifting, flying, catching, saving. 

And then you spot him. A boy. Eight years old, maybe. Trapped halfway up a twisted steel staircase, the only way up to him a makeshift scaffold of what used to be part of a fire escape. The steel beam leading up to him is bent and definitely unstable. Your feet are sprinting towards him before your brain even has a chance to catch up. 

You climb fast, heart in your throat. The beam groans wearily beneath you as you inch out, crawling on hands and knees.

The boy is whimpering, clutching a stuffed bear to his chest. “I can’t move,” he sobs. “I’m stuck—”

“You’re okay,” you breathe, trying to sound soothing despite the fact that the metal beneath your palms just shifted. “Hey, look at me. What’s your name?”

“J-Jordan.”

“Okay, Jordan. I’m gonna get you down, alright, sweetie? We’re gonna do this together. Hold my shoulders and don’t let go.”

You lift him up, slide him carefully behind you, and begin to scoot backward, inch by inch.

The beam wobbles.

Shit.

You shove the kid toward the edge, where someone’s waiting to catch him. “Take him!” you yell, and they do, pulling him off just in time.

But you’re not so lucky.

The beam snaps, and suddenly you’re falling. A scream violently rips out of your throat as the world turns sideways and the wind rushes past your ears. You flail. Panic claws at your chest, your limbs, your lungs.

And then—

Arms.

Strong, unshakable arms wrap around you like a vice mid-air, halting your fall with an aggressive jolt. You crash into something solid. No, someone. You know that chest. That heat. That scent of ozone and something impossibly Clark.

He sets you down in the middle of the street gently—almost too gently for how hard your body’s shaking. But when your legs stumble, he’s already gripping your waist, steadying you, holding on like he might lose you again if he doesn’t.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is frantic. Rough. He’s running his big hands over your arms, down your ribs, checking for breaks or blood or anything that might explain why you just fell from the goddamn sky.

“I couldn’t just sit there,” you rasp.

He freezes. Hands still on your waist. His eyes are so wild and so blue you feel like you’re drowning on dry land. 

And then he kisses you.

It’s sudden. Desperate. Messy.

His lips crash into yours like an aftershock, all teeth and heat and breathless fear. His hands frame your face now, thumbs trembling where they press against your jaw.

“Please,” he gasps against your mouth like a man starved. “Please just don’t get hurt. I can’t—I need you to be okay. Okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to sleep. Clark  hesitates for one more beat, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to memorize the moment, then disappears back into the chaos with a gust of wind and a rush of air.

You exhale, chest heaving, and then jump right back in.

You help the EMTs. You tear cloth into bandages. You cradle heads, squeeze hands, speak softly to people bleeding and terrified. You give them what you can.

When the smoke finally begins to clear, you lean against a battered light pole, wiping sweat and grime from your face.

You feel him before you see him. The gust of wind. The heat at your back. The familiar crackle of power in the air. You turn.

Clark is already landing in front of you.

He says nothing. Just wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Then he shoots into the sky with you in his arms.

He doesn’t speak again until you’re back in the apartment.

He sets you down like you’re made of something clear and breakable, but you don’t even make it more than two steps. He’s already reaching for you, already sinking onto the couch and pulling you into his lap, holding you so tightly against his chest you can feel the unsteady rhythm of his heart under your palm.

Your knees fall on either side of his thighs. His arms wrap around your back, slipping under your shirt, one hand weaving up into your hair.

He kisses you again. But this one is slow. Careful. Mouth moving against yours like a prayer. Like an apology. Like he’s trying to pour every unsaid word into your skin through his lips. You swear you feel him sigh into you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when he finally pulls away.

You’re out of focus as you blink up at him. 

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Clark murmurs. “I was scared. I got scared and I didn’t know how to handle it. And I took it out on you.”

“Clark…”

“I was wrong to be upset at you for being you. For being brave. For trying to help people.” He rests his forehead against yours. Your lips curve into half a smile when his curls brush your skin. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? Watching you out there—I didn’t know my heart could break and swell at the same time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry too. For what I said. I was angry, and it came out ugly. I know you were just trying to protect me.”

His hand moves down to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll try protecting you without treating you like something to hide away.”

Your smile grows gentler. “And I’ll try to remember that loving you means sometimes watching you fly away.”

Clark kisses your forehead. It tingles where his lips meet your skin. “You are the bravest person I know.”

“And you,” you murmur, curling deeper into his chest, “are the softest tank I’ve ever met.”

He huffs a laugh against your hair and your butterflies erupt in your gut at the sound. His arms tighten around you and you feel like you can barely breathe, but you don’t fight his hold. You stay like that, curled together on the couch in the dim light of a quiet apartment.

Outside, the city is still flashing with sirens and scattered lights. But you don’t look.

You stay where you are. With him. 

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.  

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…” 

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.  

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.” 

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions. 

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite. 

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi ♡ HxH – Chrollo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[suiana]

stoic ahhh yandere who looks like he has the emotional capabilities of a rock but is secretly super sweet.

"what's this?"

"you mentioned liking the cafe's croissant and brownies... i bought some for you because you were feeling down."

"aww wait that's actually so sweet! thank you babe! i love you!"

"Ok."

bros also the type of guy to say the most devious things with a straight face like??? huh??? what do you mean???

"if someone hurts you, i will handle it."

"bro??? what do you mean??? are you going to kill them???"

"i will handle it."

"HELLO???"

it's lowkey kinda cute but if he's going to be popping up behind you every time too... you think you'll die before he can actually do any of those things. did i mention he's quiet? yeah, he's super damn quiet. he'll randomly pop up behind you, stare at your back as you do something before speaking in the most deadpan voice.

"hm... this book is interesting... yes, i like this book a lot-"

"more interesting than me?"

"BRO"

it's like he doesn't know how to process and show emotions like a normal human... he's so... interesting. is he an alien?

"babe are you an alien?"

"no."

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"did you kill the guy who flirted with me two days ago?"

"ye- no. why did you ask? i definitely did not kill him. i am a normal person."

your boyfriend may be a little weird but he's your boyfriend and you love him. even if he's lowkey a little bit...

"babe? what are you doing in the corner of the room in middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep so i decided to stand in the corner and reflect on myself."

"...what?"

"you deserve better than me but i simply cannot allow you to be with someone else. it's a selfish thing and i am feeling... guilty that you are stuck with a person that cannot give you the attention you deserve. am i a bad person? I don't know. but being with you brings me such immense joy and i can only hope that you will love me enough so that this guilt will not weigh so heavy in my heart."

[the-fyre-flie]

HC that Bruce knows Kryptonian. He's like conversation level and has been researching and learning and practicing it since he met Clark. He can read it, speak it with a heavy American accent that throws off Clark so hard, and is doing it all so he can impress his boyfriend hehe

Bruce, staring at a piece of debris from Krypton that finally fell to Earth: Hm... a sign for a science center... Clark, how common were large-scale laboratories on your planet?

Clark, standing next to him, about to read out the translation: Pretty common- wait... you can read Kryptonian???

Bruce, gesturing at the lettering and symbols: I can speak it too...

Clark, grabbing Bruce's shoulders: Since when?

Bruce: A few years?? Since I met you-

Clark, shaking him gently: And you never told me!?

Bruce, trying to stop his suddenly very excited alien: You never asked?

[vitoriadior]

Clark Kent x Bimbo!Reader

BORN TO BE SPOILED

Headcannons of Clark Kent and his pretty, dummy bimbo girlfriend

Masterlist <3. Requests: 1—2—3—4 .OPEN REQUESTS

Clark and his Bimbo, who, if one day you show up at his desk, smiling at him with Hello Kitty glasses you clearly don't need, will chuckle and kiss your nose. "You don't need those." "Now I look like you," you smile. "So everyone knows you're mine." "You don't need those glasses to know I'm yours." Then you wear the glasses all day.

Clark and his Bimbo, who, you know, you're not super weak—so you're completely capable of opening a jar of pickles. And you would, if only your boyfriend didn't look so good doing it. "Honey, can you open these for me?" And Clark is there within seconds of you calling him Honey, opening the jar in almost less than two seconds and kissing you on the forehead. "Anything for you, princess."

Clark and his Bimbo, who, one day, Jimmy asks to borrow a pen, and Clark gives him a pink one with sparkles and feathers. Jimmy raises his eyebrows and glances at Clark's desk: pink heart-shaped Post-its on every surface, a picture of his girlfriend in a pink frame with a little princess crown, Sonny Angels glued to his computer, and a Hello Kitty calculator in the drawer. His desk is almost like an extension of yours. "Why do I need a picture of Daisy again, love?" "What do you mean, why? Because she's your daughter! She's our daughter."

Clark and Bimbo, who of course will always take you and Daisy to your bi-weekly beauty appointment. "Daddy's paying for our nails, Daze," you kiss your little dog while a woman is giving you a pedicure. Clark is sitting with all the other men waiting for their girlfriends. "Which one's yours?" "The one in the pink skirt," and there you are, Daisy on your lap, talking super sassy about some gossip on your phone.

Clark and his Bimbo, who of course Clark isn't going to let you pay for the mani-pedi (not that you're going to pay). But still, he pulls out his card with that whole "I'm your man" vibe and gives it to the girl at the register. "Give daddy a kiss, Daze," and you proceed to bring the Pomeranian up to Clark's cheek for her to lick it. Clark just smiles and kisses your cheek instead.

Clark and his Bimbo, who won't admit the way he unconsciously smiles whenever you call him Daisy's daddy. At the same time, you always, and almost all the time, force him to kiss Daisy goodbye. "I'm not leaving until you say goodbye to Daisy too," and you don't really plan on leaving until your boyfriend gives your baby a little peck.

Clark and his Bimbo, who you don't understand anything about journalism or whatever it is he's writing, but you still always praise him. "I loved your article about funny little people. They so cute, Do you think they'll accept if I invite them to dinner?" "It was about an alien attack, babe." "Yeah, that one"

Clark and his Bimbo, who share Hello Kitty pajamas on a night of face masks and hair care with your boyfriend. On any given Saturday, your boyfriend might be in a robe with a towel on his hair and a tiger face mask on his face.

Clark and his Bimbo, who of course always kiss it better every little boo-boo you have. It doesn't matter if you get a paper cut! Just pout your lips and it melts him away. "Is that better, princess?" "It needs another kiss." "Another kiss on the way"

Clark and his Bimbo, who, imagine what it would have been like to meet him in high school? You'd be like, the gorgeous cheerleader with a bunch of ex-boyfriends. But with a crush on farmboy Clark Kent, whose clothes have a farmer's look and he smells like apple pie.

Clark and his Bimbo, who, obviously, you think Superman is super handsome and sexy, and kind and charismatic—but you're a girl with a boyfriend! So every time Superman appears on TV, you hug Clark's arm and tell him, "You're so much more handsome."

Clark and his Bimbo who, you don't even need to tell him—as soon as he sees you wrinkle your nose even the slightest bit, he carries you. He carry you because he knows you're already a little tired in heels. If you don't feel like being carried, he gives you his shoes to wear instead of heels—yes, he walks around in socks wherever You go while you wear his shoes.

Clark and his Bimbo who, well, we all know there's going to come a point where he's going to have to tell you about his superhero identity (even though he's literally almost said it to your face, although, well, you're a bit too Bimbo to realize it), so one night after a date, he does it straight up: "I'm Superman," he's serious. You smile. "Of course you are a Super man. You're my Super man!" Lois considers Clark the most patient man in the world.

Clark and his Bimbo, who once you know he's Superman, he's always drying your hair with his heat vision because hairdryers "damage your hair so much." You're spoiled, so what.

Taglist: @starincarnated @angelicp0etry @yeonalie @lator-gators @starssfall @moomumu @chamorunsmiles @urlittleangelbaby @americanboz0 @mysticdinosaurpirate @spiidergwenn @sugarbutterbailey @pestoluvr8 @ilovemangoes444 @kaiparkerwife @qardasngan @animegamerfox @helloimamistake @rinapomu @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @ryomku @dreamlesssleepsaga @yzuposts @mickey-mouse-crackhouse1902 @j07lvrg @khxna @1wannab3inaband @wintersoldierenthusiastt @yyiikes @rosie-hao @psiiconic @httpstoyosi @lettucel0ver @scorpio-echo @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @aratakiittooo @angelicprincess12 @pinkluv29

@shine101 @karimestarksworld @lortheswiftie @bangtanevermore @njdluvr @itsjustamina @avroravia @m3lod7 @just-pure-trash @pprettyvisitorr @againanothersideblog @differentcandycreation @hagarsays

[anonymousfangir1]

2 For 1 ? | Clark Kent

fem! reader x Clark Kent x Superman Part 2!! Summary = What if you were seeing both Clark and Superman? And no, you didn't know they were the same person. Tags/TW- 18+, MDNI, Fem! Reader, Cheating (sorta?) Sky sex, p. in v., oral (fem! recieving), no protection, cremepie Word count- 2.3k~ A/n - This one's maybe a little messed up (not that messed up compared to some of the stuff on here lol) as of right now I'm thinking of doing at least another part since there's so much I wanna write. Sidenote- likes, comments and reblogs are highly encouraged. Thank you all for the support <3

It was messed up, completely fucked up. Your back was pushed against some random brick wall on some random roof in metropolis. His strong hands held yours above your head and his strong knee was pushed in-between your thighs, drawing out a moan from you if you moved just right. The brick was annoying, scratching your back but the pleasure of everything else was enough to ignore it.

He smelt like dirt. Not really his fault, he had just battled some 15 foot alien and saved countless people. He was allowed to smell a little off and look a little unclean. You? You were covered in ash and dirt yourself. You had been in the vicinity when it attacked and ended up covered with debris. You're fine of course, maybe some minor scratches and you'll probably be covered with bruises, but this makes up for it.

He shouldn't be doing this. And you shouldn't be letting it happen. But here the both of you are. He felt disturbed, sick with himself, but his erection was too busy talking. He needed this.

"Are you okay ma'am?" You're not sure what happened after the building collapsed on top of you. Just faint memories, debris on top of you, a few of your coworkers were trying their hardest to get you out. But they couldn't. That's when he showed up. The sun behind him radiated, like he was an angel. Next thing you know, you're in his arms flying through the city of Metropolis. That's how you ended up on this roof.

"Ma'am?" His voice was filled with concern as he watched your body shake. You still weren't over everything that just happened.

"I-I. Y-Yeah, I'm fine." You managed to stutter out. You looked to the man in front of you. This was the first time you'd been so close to the man everyone in Metropolis talked about. He was tall, lots of muscle to no surprise. His hair was slicked back besides a single curl rested on his forehead. He looked a lot like your boyfriend, Clark Kent. You'd have to tell him about it later.

This was his moment. He'd been waiting, unsure of just how to tell you. He'd thought of fancy dinners, cooking your favorite meal before changing and revealing himself as THE Superman. But it all just felt too staged, he wanted something organic. What could be better than saving you before revealing himself to be the shy and polite man you'd fallen in love with.

"Thank you your help and all but I should go…" You couldn't leave yet, he wasn't ready.

"Wait!" He panicked, calling out for you and grabbing your wrist so you couldn't leave. You froze in your steps, turning to look at the meta human. He could feel the adrenaline being pumped into your blood. He could smell the fear mixed with something else… was it arousal. He couldn't take it anymore. His lips crashed into yours, one arm wrapping around your waist, pressing your chest against his own, while his other hand cupped the back of your head. You tried to resist, if only for a moment. But there was a familiarity about the kiss, a comfort. You easily melted into it, letting your arms wrap around the supes waist.

That's how you ended up in this situation. You were so upset, but not enough to tell the man stop. The heat building up in your core needed this release and you weren't even sure where your relationship with Clark was even going. Sure you loved the man, but lately things have felt more distance. He was gone more often, disappearing for hours at a time. He's stood you up more than once on dates, just like today. That's why you were even in the area in the first place. Minutes before the building would collapse, he sent you a text.

Clark: Honey, I'm so sorry!! I'm stuck at work (sad emoji) I'll see you tonight!! (hug emoji)

"I need you." His voice was coarse as he whispered in your ear.

"I need you too."

You felt his large hands grab the hem of your pants before he started to tug, removing them.

"Do you trust me?" You furiously nodded. "Good." In the next moment he's swiftly picked you up, positioning your legs over his shoulders, you quickly grab onto his hair to stable yourself. Your back is still against the brick wall (Is it a chimney?) but now your clothed core is positioned in front of his face. He's so close his nose rubs right against your clit as he leans just an inch.

"Gosh…" He says it like a whisper, like he really can't believe this is really happening. He's going to fuck you as Superman, not your boyfriend Clark Kent.

"May I?" His eyes flicker back to your face. He's giving you a chance, a chance to say no. You can go back to Clark and you both can pretend this didn't happen.

"I need you." You breathe those words again. I need you. More meaning than want, like how you need water, you need food. Right now you need Superman.

His tongue pokes at the cloth, he can taste the way your juices had been soaking in with anticipation.

"Please… No teasing." You're groaning above him, and you tug at his hair, trying to speed up the process. You can feel his grunt against your heat. You've always been so needy, something he loved about you.

"Hmm. Since you asked so nicely." Clark teases. He uses his teeth to grab your panties and push them off to the side. He'd loved to just rip them off, but he's uncomfortable with the idea of you walking around with nothing underneath, no matter how hot it sounds.

He takes a moment just to breathe it in. With his reports at Daily Planet, and his superhero gig, there's almost never enough time for him to just enough this. God, you're so wet, you're wet for superman. Not Clark. There's a twinge of anger, and something that resembles a moral dilemma. Is he Clark? Superman? One more than the other? Well that's not really his problem right now when your glistening cunt is just staring at him. He drives in, his nose rubbing your clit as his tongue teases around your entrance before finally making the plunge in. You're gasping above him, hips involuntary bucking against his face.

"F-Fuck. S-Superman." He pulls away, just for a moment.

"Call me Kal."

"A-Ah. Is that y-your civilian name."

"You sure." You can barely make out the words since his tongues deep within you.

"Shit, right there Kal. Please, Please don't stop." You sound so pathetic. Begging for him, something you hadn't done for Clark in a while. God you felt so awful, and so good. Kal listens to your moans, giving you exactly want you want. Your walls are tightening around his tongue, he wants you to finish so badly. If another monster was to show up, Metropolis would have to wait, this was more important.

"I-I'm going to cum. Fuckkk. Pleasepleaseplease" Your words just turn into useless mumbling as he continues. He can hear it, your heart beat going wild as you hit your high. You release a final gasp, as you cum on Kal's tongue. He keeps going, gentle, he wants to help you ride through it. You swear you've never come this hard before. Maybe it was the fact you were outside, or because the worlds strongest man was under you, maybe because he wasn't your boyfriend. Fuck. it didn't matter right now.

He's watching you heavy, but he's fine. No sweat, definitely not out of breath but he's so horny.

"Have you ever done it in the sky?" You looked at him, dumbfounded. Did he really just ask you that? There's a shit eating grin on his face, his lips are shining from going down on you. You can't help but notice the dimples on both sides of his cheeks. Like Clark…

Stop! You can't think about him.

"No…?" You respond hesitantly, unsure what he's about to do.

"Well today's your lucky day darling." He easily changes your position, swapping your legs over his shoulders to being in his arms as he holds you bridal style. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

You're in the air. Obviously not too far, since Kal doesn't want you to be cold, or the bigger problem, running out of air. The view is amazing, and scary. He holds you like you weigh nothing and it once again reminds you that this is THE superman.

"Fuck…" You're almost left speechless.

"Language madam." You roll your eyes, "punching" his shoulder.

"You didn't say anything earlier."

He shrugs, smirking.

"I was too busy enjoying my meal." Oh god. He'd never say anything as corny as Clark. He was becoming a different person. But he notices the blush creeping on your cheeks as you turn away. Did you actually like this?

"Try not to move too much okay? Let me do the work, can't have someone as beautiful as you falling." You nodded, remembering your actually in the sky right now. He maneuvers you around like your a doll, until your legs are wrapped around his waist, and your arms are still hooked around his neck.

"Are you ready?" Kal speaks tenderly as he looks into your eyes. You're nervous, he can tell. But you nodded.

"Yes, Kal." No one besides his close family knew his real name, so hearing it come so sweetly from your lips sends shivers down his body. You're no sure how he did it, but he's able to remove his cock from suit. You can feel the soft skin pressing against your entrance. He already feels large and he's not even in you yet. He pushes in, watching for your reaction, making sure he's not hurting you. Your eyes are shut close and your bodies tense. It can't really be helped, being hundred of feel, maybe even thousands, in the air can have that effect.

He's able to completely sheathe himself within you, thanks to the foreplay previously. He feels so close to you, he can't help but rest his forehead on yours. His grip on your ass is hard. He can't have you slipping away now, can he?

"How does it feel?" He wants to hear your voice, it's so beautiful, so soft.

"It feels great Kal. Please." The moments so intimate. You finally unclench your eyes and make contact with Kal. His eyes are such a vibrant blue, like they could see into your soul. You lean forward, enveloping him into a passionate kiss. The experience no longer felt like a hookup, a one time thing. In this moment, it felt like he really was yours, and you, everything about you, belonged to him.

His thrusts picked up the pace, fucking you roughly. And there was nothing you could do besides moan into his mouth.

"You feel so good darling. I needed this so badly. Your pussy's perfect." He's moaning, and his words of affirmation only cause your cunt to contract with enjoyment. He buries his face into your neck and he takes the chance to suck. He felt like he needed to leave some sort of mark, so you knew just how real this was.

"Eugh, I-I'm going to cum again Kal. Keep going." Your hearts picking up again. You've been together long enough that he's learned your cues. You don't have to tell him when you're close. He can hear it, smell it and feel it. He's so attuned to your body in ways you don't even know.

"Cum above all these people darling. I wanna feel it again, you clench so tight." His dirty words only push you further over the edge. Your lock around his nice squeezes and your back arches as that long waited release hits you. Kal can feel himself getting close as he keeps thrusting you through your release. He pulls you in for one last kiss before he's finishing inside. He didn't stop to think about it, Clark knows you're on the pill but how would Kal. Shoot. But it doesn't matter, the pleasure of finishing in you was enough to not stress about it.

-

You stumbled into your apartment, your legs are still jelly from well, everything that happened. You're so sore and you swear you can feel some of his cum leaking into to your panties. You need a shower, pronto.

"Hey Hun." You're thrown off by the sweet voice greeting you. Clark's sitting on the couch, newspaper in his hand. He jumps up though once he sees the state your in. Hair all tangled, dirt smeared and clothes ripped.

" Hun! Are you alright?! It's all my fault, I asked you to meet you at the darn cafe and I didn't even show." There's concern in his voice, he's gotten good with acting.

"It-It's okay Clark. Superman saved the day like normal." You force a chuckle.

"That's good," He sighs, "Let me start the shower for you." He plants a kiss on only spot on your cheek that wasn't filthy.

"Babe?"

"Hm?"

"What's that?" He points to something on your neck. Confused, you go into the bathroom to examine. Fuck. Your stomach drops when you notice it. Right there on your neck is a large, deep purple hickey. The coffee and slice of cake you had for lunch threatens to come up. Clark rushes to the bathroom when he hears your heaving.

"Y/n? W-Whats wrong?" You raise your hand and shake your head, swallowing back the vomit.

"Sorry… Just still reeling from earlier. The bruise.. It's just from the attack. It'll go awake eventually." Clark nods like he believes you.

I can't let this happen again. I can't do this to Clark…

[justagirlswrld]

Thousand year old, sexy, space princess seeks companionship! must be hot!

a/n: i told you i was a mark grayson groupie.

warnings: unprotected p in v. humanoid!reader. stuff that happens in sex happens in this. porn w plot.

part two

“….Mark, why is there a purple…guy outside your window?”, Mark doesn’t look up from the Seance dog comic at the sound of Will’s confused voice, choosing to roll his brown eyes instead.

“Yeah, funny.”, Mark replies in an airy tone.

“No, Mark i’m ser-”, Rick cuts his boyfriend off as he walks through the front door of the apartment, “Why is there a purple man outside of the living room window?”, This finally gets Mark’s attention, he looks over at the window in question and his eyes grow triple their size.

Mark is in his suit in less than a second, comic thrown onto the couch he was just relaxing on. He floats over to the window, taking in the short, stocky….lavender man that flies just outside the apartment on deep, amethyst wings.

Mark opens the window roughly and the man scampers back, he didn’t plan on hurting the creature but it seemed like someone always wanted to fight on his days off.

Mark flies out the large window, he dwarfs the…man easily. He has an uneasy smile on his face, Mark notices that his mouth is filled with long canines and he tries not to grimace. “I’m not helping any….fairies today. so, leave.” With that Mark turns his back on him, a strong hand grasps his shoulder. In an instant Mark is zooming into the afternoon sky, holding the lilac haired creature by the collar of his thin shirt.

His purple skin now has a slight gleam from his nervous sweat. “I’m not a fairy, I come from the planet-“, Mark cuts him off, “I don’t care. Now go.”, Mark releases the being and hovers in front of him but he doesn’t budge. Mark rubs a gloved hand down his face in frustration.

”Mark Gray-“, Mark cuts him off instantly, “My name is Invincible when i’m in this suit. What do you want?”

The alien nods, “Invincible, please. I haven’t come to harm you…my planet needs your help.” Mark groans inwardly, why was it always on his day off.

The mysterious man goes on to explain how another evil alien race has come to conquer his kingdom. He paints a picture of his beautiful world being annihilated and his people being slaughtered without Mark’s help. “I’ve left it in ruins, Invincible. I’m scared I may be the only Solorian left.”

Mark points to a near by patch of forest in exasperation, “Wait there.” He flies back inside without waiting to see if the creature followed his instructions.

With major convincing from Will and Rick, Mark ends up not ghosting the…Solorian waiting in the woods. When Mark floats down through the trees to the hard ground, he’s sitting on a log with a happy expression on his face.

“Where’s your planet?”, Mark’s tone is serious, he really wanted to be back in time to watch the newest episode of this show he’d been tuning into.

The thing stands, brushing the dirt from his odd pants. Mark notices that he’s dressed like a jester, save for the pointy hat.

“It’s many galaxies from Earth, it usually takes a year to get there,-“ Mark makes a sound as he begins to protest but the man continues talking as he pulls a small, metal disc from his pocket. “But with our technology it’ll only take a minute.”

He throws the disc on the ground with his knobby fingers and its turns into a circular pad. Mark and his traveling companion step on and become engulfed in a pale yellow light. Mark only has time to blink before he’s whisked away, landing on what he assumes to be cobblestone streets.

Mark surveys his surroundings as the man picks up his transporter. There’s winged humanoids dressed almost…medievally everywhere, no one lounges as the planet’s two suns beat down on their backs.

He watches as children with skin in arrays of colors play in the waterfall and clear, blue stream. He has to crane his neck to look at the behemoth of a castle in front of him.

“This doesn’t look like ruins.”, Mark’s eyes shift as he waits for assailants to pop out from behind the thatched roofed shacks that line the street.

“Because I lied to you invincible. Walk with me and i’ll explain.”

They glide towards the castle slowly, the man, Edolan, explains that their princess refuses to marry one of her arranged suitors after hearing of his exploits on earth. They go up winding stair cases before they stop in front of a room with large, oval doors. “She says she must….meet you, before she marries.”, Edolan explains with his hands held behind his back.

“You know you could’ve said that”, is all Mark can think to say in response. Edolan nods, “Yes, I apologize for deceiving you but I had to make it seem urgent in a way you’d understand.��� Edolan waves a hand and the doors creek open, “The princess is waiting for you. When you’re finished she will give you passage home the same way you came.”

And he’s gone.

When Invincible glides into your expansive room you’re draped over your canopied bed, idly playing with some alien device.

Mark wasn’t sure what he’d be dealing with when he came through the doors but he damn sure wasn’t expecting you to be pretty…beautiful even. You’re as humanoid as the rest of your subjects save for the blush pink skin and hot pink hair.

You look up at the young man standing a few feet away from you. You lick your lips and Mark is happy to notice that your mouth isn’t filled with razor sharp teeth but human like ones instead.

“Mark Grayson of Earth!”, You greet him, cheeks stretched into a wide smile. Mark blushes as you rise from a lying position to a sitting one, noticing that your breasts are only covered in a thin, bralette of shiny jewels.

“Uh-Hi, you can just call me Mark.” You rise to stand on your bed now as you mimic someone fighting, “Or Invincible! Defender of Earth and slayer of beasts and villains.”

Mark wants to argue that he doesn’t slay villains but nods his head in agreement instead, trying to end this odd experience as soon as possible.

“Right….and you’re Y/N, Solorian princess who refuses to marry until you met me…,”Mark rips his mask off, exposing his handsome face to your eyes, “Will you marry the guy now?” Your eyebrows scrunch together and your lips form a pout. Mark thinks that it’s probably the sexiest expression he’s ever seen.

“That was not the agreement. I have yet to lay with you.”, You say from your place on the bed. If Mark had been drinking something he would’ve spit it out in astonishment.

“Lay with you?”, Mark asks in a shocked tone. You laugh at the expression on the boys face, if he pushes his eyebrows any higher they’ll be on the cathedral like ceilings of your room.

“Yes, Mark Grayson. The promise was that I would finally marry an arranged suitor, saving our planet from war, if you bedded me first.” You lay back down on your large mattress as you wait for the superhero to collect himself.

Mark swallows, he’s not sure if he’s turned on or scared. Probably both. “Um, don’t princesses have to be virgins when they get married?”, you cock your head to the side like a confused dog, “I’m not familiar with the word- virgins.” The word sounds jumbled when it passes your perfect lips.

“It means you never- laid with anyone. On Earth princesses usually save themselves for their husband or their virtue or something.”

You throw your head back and laugh loudly, it’s closer to a howl really. “What a sad life these Earth princesses live. As a Solorian we live for many, many years. I am 1,000 years old, just a baby I know-,“ Mark doesn’t reply as you continue, “And I would never be asked to be a…virkin. Solorian’s find virtue in other ways than saving yourself.” You almost look disgusted as you finish your rant.

Your mind goes back to the task at hand. You unclasp the jewels from your upper and bottom half, positioning yourself so Mark can see your naked body well. You watch as his strong throat bobs.

“Will you lay with me Mark Grayson?”

Mark feels like he might combust on the spot as he nods, more excited than he hoped. He walks to the edge of the bed and sits nervously, palming himself through his suit. “On Earth we usually go on a date first.” He laughs awkwardly, willing himself to get hard. He just couldn’t get out of his head to do so.

“We are not on Earth, Mark.” You slither up his back, breasts pressing against the hard muscles. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you press soft kisses to his neck. He groans but when he palms himself again there’s nothing. Mark is perplexed on why because you were super hot and he never had this problem before. It must be how weird the situation is.

You notice the mental battle and stop kissing his neck. “Are you well?”, he nods again and you notice him palming himself. You giggle, the sound so close to his ear that it has his heart speeding up again. “You can’t ‘get it up’? As they would say on Earth”, Mark’s torn between defending himself and asking where you learned that from but chooses silence instead when you slink between his legs.

You make yourself comfortable on your pink knees and look up at him through your lashes with big doe eyes. Mark has an instant semi.

He’s rock hard by the time you slip him out of his suit and into your warm mouth. You suck unabashedly on his thick, cock hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his angry tip.

“Shhhhiiiiiittt”, Mark moans with his hand tangled in your vibrant hair, hanging on for dear life as you bob up and down his member. “St-Stop i’m gonna-.” Mark trails off, his eyes almost roll back when you choke around his length, gobbling the throbbing cock down your throat.

He finally wrestles your mouth off his cock and he takes a moment to collect himself as he breathes heavily. Mark leans down and kisses you sloppily, he tweaks your nipples hoping that it’ll do something to stimulate you sexually. Luckily it works and you moan lowly in his mouth.

Mark picks you up by your arm pits and tosses you on the bed, you laugh, “Yes! Show me your strength, invincible.” His name is sultry as it falls out your lips, causing a shudder to creep down his spine.

He flips you over roughly by your ankle then pulls you to the edge of the large bed. Mark manhandles you until your face is pressed into your thick blankets with your round ass in the air. When Mark’s tongue pushes its way between your folds you’re a moaning mess.

Mark slowly licks from your wet cunt up to your puckered hole, repeating the motion over and over again. You close your eyes tightly as your moans fill the great space of your bedroom. He uses his skilled fingers to search for your clit, praying that Solorian’s have one. When he finally finds the nub he sucks on it harshly, causing you to cry out and fall on your stomach.

Mark lets out a huff behind you, voice raspy from his previous moaning, “If you want to lay with me princess, you have to keep your back arched.” You do as he says and he continues making a mess of you with his tongue, adding two, slender fingers into your pulsating heat.

When you feel Mark’s bulbous head rubbing against your tight entrance you release a sound akin to a purr. He pushes into you slowly, inch by veiny inch until his hips are flush against your backside.

You call out for him when he pulls out of you and he answers with a moan of his own when he pushes his length back into your tight walls. Mark starts at a slow rhythm that has you moaning with each pointed thrust, still you throw your ass back to meet each one.

Mark’s pace becomes brutal and you struggle to keep up with his pounding hips. One of his large hands slides up your back and wraps securely around your neck. His full lips leaving kisses in its wake. His other hand goes between your bodies to your engorged nub, rubbing slick circles as he continues to pound in and out of you.

Your toes curl so hard that you feel like they may break when Mark hits a deep, spongy spot in your cunt. You call out his name as you come, body going completely still then slumping to your stomach. Mark continues to fuck into your spent cunt, groans turning to moans. Mark pulls out and releases warm come on your lower back and ass cheek.

He lays on his back beside you, both of you two breathing too hard to say anything to one another.

When Mark walks through his apartment door Will is waiting for him, coffee cup in hand as the early morning light peaks through the bay window. Will’s eyes go wide when he takes in his best friend, “Mark! Where have you been? Do you realize you’ve been gone for three months?!”

Mark sits down at the granite island, smiling to himself as he begins to tell his best friend about the alien pussy he had to force himself to leave.

[kxsagi]

hellooo kxsagi!! idk but i think my tumblr is crashing out bcs none of my asks have been able to send so i have to send this anonymously as a test 💔

may i requestt rin with a kindergarten teacher gf?? and when he goes to visit her all the kids js surround hin and start asking questions and he doesn't know what to do 🙊 i personally think he would be cute like that ngl (god i love rin)

if u see this thank u sm and i love u 💗

“𝐬𝐢𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧”

a/n: hiii, omg i hate when tumblr crashes out too, sometimes people's asks disappear and then reappear later idk

this request is too cute as well, i love you so much!!! 😭🫶🏻

you told him you worked with kids, but rin definitely didn’t expect this. 

he walks into the brightly colored classroom, ducking slightly under a string of finger paintings hung from the ceiling. he’s wearing all black (as usual), has his headphones looped around his neck, and carries a distinctly unapproachable energy. but the second one child notices him, it's over. 

“WHOAAAAA.” 

“who’s THAT?” 

“he’s so TALL.” 

“is he your boyfriend???” 

rin stiffens. immediately. 

he thought maybe he’d sit at the back, wait for your class to end, maybe pass you your lunch and leave quietly. he was wrong. because suddenly, there’s a swarm of tiny humans around his knees, tugging on his pants and looking up with huge, sparkly eyes like he’s some kind of alien celebrity. 

“do you play soccer like miss [name] said?” 

“do you have a puppy?” 

“why are your eyelashes so long?” 

“do you know what a megalodon is?” 

“did you kiss her yet???” 

“uh,” rin blinks. “yes… no. i mean– i don’t know about the shark thing.” 

he looks over to you with the panic of a man who just stepped on a lego. you’re across the room by the cubbies, giggling into your hand as you watch him, this six-foot wall of cold silence now reduced to a bewildered babysitter surrounded by children. and gosh, he’s trying so hard not to show how overwhelmed he is, but one of the kids just poked his butt and another is wrapping their tiny hands around his leg. 

“he looks like a villain, but he’s not mean!” one of them announces. 

“he’s like batman,” another nods sagely. 

rin flinches when someone hands him a crayon drawing. it’s a purple blob with angry green eyes. 

“that’s you,” the kid says proudly. 

“... thanks,” rin mutters, taking it like it’s a trophy. 

you finally come to his rescue, crouching down next to the group and placing a gentle hand on one of the kids' heads. “okay, okay, give him some space! this is my boyfriend, rin. he’s a little shy, but he’s very nice.” 

rin’s ears turn pink. 

“is he your husband?” 

“do you love her?” 

“are you gonna get married and have a DOG?” 

he has never been interrogated this intensely in his entire life, including media press conferences. 

he leans in closer to you, mutters under his breath, “they’re relentless.” 

you laugh, slipping your hand into his and squeezing it. “they’re, like, five. and they like you.” 

“they attacked me.” 

“you’re their favorite now.” 

“... fuck.” 

“rin! language!” you whisper-shout, eyes wide. 

rin sighs, defeated, as a girl starts braiding his sleeve and another boy tries to climb him like a jungle gym. “i don’t know how you do this every day.” 

you smile, absolutely delighted. “with love. and snacks.” 

he looks at you, your soft laugh, your gentle voice talking to the kids, and how effortlessly you handle the chaos like it’s second nature, and yeah. he’s completely in love. 

“hey,” you say quietly, brushing his hair from his face, “thanks for visiting.” 

“yeah.” he exhales, still holding the crayon drawing like it’s sacred. “worth it.” 

a kid sneezes on his shoe. he doesn’t even flinch this time. 

he’s adjusting. slowly. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢