dandelion-teaa

[dandelion-teaa]

how would clark react to shy!reader wearing cute panties around him for the first time? 

cw: mildly suggestive, fem In the privacy of his own home (and mind), Clark calls you his sweet girl. It’s the perfect way to describe you, and while others may find it saccharine or infantilising, he knows you appreciate it for what it is. A sweet girl given some tenderness back. 

You’re sitting on the arm of his sofa with your socked feet brushing against the floor, in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that cloaks the shape of you. He’s making you a cold lemonade in the kitchen, and if his senses weren’t as sharp as they are he’d have tipped half of it onto the cool tile below. He can’t stop watching you. 

You laugh at the TV. “Clark, you’re missing the best part,” you say. 

He could knock you back onto the couch and kiss you dizzy when you laugh like that, only he’d never be so rough with you.

“I’m coming,” he promises. “No patience at all. You could’ve paused it for me.”

“I’ll rewind it, if you want.” 

Clark couldn’t care less about the movie. What he wants is to be sitting with you again, to pull you into his lap before the sun starts to go down. He needs to get his hours in. They’re owed! 

Clark presses the lemonade into your hand, a kiss to your head, catching the click of your jaw from a poorly hidden yawn. 

“Oh, honey, are you tired?” he asks. He’d had no idea. 

“No, I’m fine.”

“Sure. Okay, but we could finish the movie in bed, right?” 

You take a sip of lemonade. Grin at him like he’s perfect when you swallow. “I’m really not that tired.” 

“Humour me?” 

And oh, don’t you let him take you to bed. He guards your shoulder unnecessarily, pulls the sheets back to help you in while you grumble about being spoiled. Clark puts your movie on and slips into the bed next to you, deciding this is better than the spooning he’d planned on the couch. It would’ve taken ages to convince you that he doesn’t mind your weight. Here in bed, he can lie right beside you without preamble. 

You drink your lemonade, nothing so endearing to him as your sips and the way you wipe the condensation from your glass each time rather than let it wet the bed. Clark turns into you, in part due to low self-control, but more because you’re warm and soft to the touch. He puts his forehead on your shoulder and his hand to the hip furthest him. Under the blankets together, you are perfectly cocooned. 

Which makes it harder for him when you insist on getting up. 

“Where you going?” he asks. 

“Just to the bathroom. Gonna freshen up.” 

To freshen up, he thinks, and not to brush your teeth. Is he going to presume himself a lucky man from turn of phrase alone? No. But does he sit in bed waiting anxiously for you to return? Yes. Clark wouldn’t say it’s hard to get you out of your clothes, euphemism or otherwise; you aren’t uncomfortable around him anymore, just your tentativeness remains. He has to be gentle with you, and he doesn’t mind. 

He isn’t surprised to find you fully dressed when you return, smelling noticeably of lotion and something else he can’t name aptly as you stop at your side of the bed. His stomach flickers with heat as you switch off the bedside lamp, leaving the TV as the only light source. 

“Okay?” you ask softly. 

“Perfect, sweet girl,” he says, matching your tone, almost lost under the sounds of the movie. 

You nod. 

His breath catches and stills as you reach for the edge of your shirt and pull it off. 

Then you slip your shorts down your hips and Clark’s mind takes time to catch up. Like, a ridiculous amount of time. 

You’re not not cute, he wants that cemented in the record forever. You are a darling. In whatever plain white panties you deign to show him, in your simple t-shirt bras and especially out of them, you’re a wonder. Clark can’t believe you’re of earth, sometimes, until he thinks of course you are. You are charmingly, broadly human. 

Right now, you’re wearing the cutest matching set he’s ever seen, his mouth immediately cottoned with longing.

They aren’t ‘sexy’, objectively, a fake satin that looks perfectly comfortable to sleep in. The panties have a lettuce hemming, pink fabric, and his entire body has started to fill with a telling heat following the lines of you. “Are those strawberries?” he asks. 

You pull the sheets back and set yourself down beside him. Your little ankle socks stay on. Fuck, his blood is practically boiling in his veins. 

“Honey, you’re gonna have to let me see,” he says lightly. 

“No, ‘cos you looked at me too long. You’re done.”

You’re serious and teasing at once. 

“How was I supposed to not look?”

“Practice your restraint,” you say, really joking now. If Clark concentrates he can hear the patter of your heart picking up. Anticipation sends a flush over your skin. 

“Let me see you again,” he says, warming your thigh through the sheets. “Please.” 

You lay further down in the bed and breathe deeply. “Kiss me first,” you say, and there, he can hear the thread of your nerves, how much courage it actually took you to stand there and shimmy out of your clothes, knowing it was a big change.  

“Yeah, I will,” he promises, raising a hand to your cheek. “You– I don’t know how to say it. You’re–” He takes a calming breath as you had. He could be far more gentlemanly about the situation if he tried. “Fuck,” he groans instead, tapping his nose against yours, hovering for a kiss. Sweet girl.

You laugh, self-satisfaction new and wholly delightful on you as you tip your chin up to meet his lips. 

Clark pictures the feeling of satin under his fingers and presses eagerly into your mouth.

[dandelion-teaa]

god, i am OBSESSED with how you write clark. he’s literally perfect. just so enamored with you. but i had an idea… 🌚 clark and his big hands feeling you up during a makeout session. mindlessly palming at your chest, hips, thighs, and ass because he desperately needs to hold onto something. all that groping, paired with tongue-filled kisses and his glasses fogging up, ends with him fingerfucking you within an inch of your life right there against his chest. 💆��‍♀️

content warning : established relationship・making out・fingering (f!receiving) ・dry humping・squirting | 18+ note. thank YOU !! your description is so vivid, luv you :)

he’d always been a considerate lover, your clark. deferential to the point of absurdity, raised on midwestern modesty and a theology of self-denial. he deferred, always. desire deferred, ego deferred, until necessity—or you—forced his hand.

his patience, you’d learned, wasn’t inexhaustible. it only posed as such. beneath the façade, passion accumulated like pressure behind a sealed valve. once breached, he unraveled with startling velocity.

his palms had started at your waist with a trace of intention. tentative, maybe even chivalrous. the caution of a man who still believed in decorum. it might’ve begun with your weight in his lap, the unintentional grind of your hips. or maybe it was your mouth—warm and open, all too generous for his good sense.

either way, all that good sense evaporated in a new york minute. now clark was all over you, hands moving without finesse: cupping, groping, squeezing bare flesh with disarming need. one palm flattened against the centre of your back, pulling you onto the hard tent of his cock through his slacks. the other ventured southward to cup the curve of your ass.

his mouth hadn’t left yours in minutes. fog condensed along the inner lenses of his glasses, which sat crooked and ignored. breathes broke in shallow puffs between slanted, open-mouthed kisses, all tongue and teeth, with no cadence to speak of. fabric rustled beneath his grip as he fumbled up your blouse. fingers pushed under your bra, one breast coaxed free before the clasp gave with a decisive snap. he froze.

“oh gosh,” clark blinked behind skewed lenses, clearly horrified. “that was—sorry, i didn’t mean to—” you cut the apology off with your mouth, and his next groan vibrated against your tongue. contact, only deepened urgency: with new access, he handled you rougher: squeezing at your breasts, thumbs brushing over the hard peak of your nipples until you gasped. the damp patch blooming through your underwear pressed directly into the outline of his cock. his hand dropped, hovering at the waistband of your panties, hesitant.

“can i, please?” you bucked your hips forward. that was answer enough. panties shoved aside, clark realised you were soaked…embarrassingly so. he paused, viscerally shaken by how warm and slick you were, then slowly sank two thick fingers in to the knuckles. the heel of his palm ground against your mound, his thumb slipped to your clit, stroking in sync with the pumping and curling of his fingers. he kept his other arm circled around your back, cradling you to his chest.

the pressure crested, hard and fast.

your hand twisted in the collar of his shirt, thighs shook where they framed his. walls clenched down on him, muscles seizing as the orgasm tore through you—sharp in its velocity.

his fingers slipped out with a slick squelch that made both of you flinch. the front of his slacks was soaked, the fabric blooming dark with a wet sheen that left no ambiguity.

“well,” clark chuckled, hoarsely. “that’s… one way to level the playing field.”

[dandelion-teaa]

clark, who perks up when you call his name the way dogs react to hearing the word walk. pleasantly startled, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed energy in a six-foot-something frame.

clark, who insists on carrying all the groceries. so now you just walk beside him, one arm looped through his, watching him play pack mule with unconcealed joy.

clark, who sits beside you at the fountain, tearing bread crusts into little hunks for the doves.

clark, who taps your knee when he spots a squirrel in the park. stops mid-step and whispers, “look, look,” with the same excitement of one pointing out a comet—never mind it’s just a rodent with a peanut.

clark, who sets his lockscreen to a selfie of you both. candid, taken mid-laugh. your head resting against his shoulder, his smile half-formed, cheek pressed into your temple. he carries a printed copy in his wallet, too.

clark, who texts you pictures he’s taken. things that remind him of you, or things he knows you’d like. a cat loaf in a patch of sunlight, a diner chalkboard advertising your favourite pie, or a silly meme he figured you’d laugh at.

clark, who always ends up the big spoon, no matter how you start. even if you fall asleep facing him, curled into his chest. by morning, you’ll wake up with his arm around your waist.

clark, who really knows how to cook. real food, too—not just bachelor chow reheated in a pan. i’m talking soups from scratch or stews that simmer for hours. he doesn’t let you lift a finger unless it’s to taste-test something off the spoon.

clark, who hums commercial jingles around the apartment while doing chores, such as lifting the entire couch (with you still on it) so he can vacuum underneath.

clark, who carries you bridal-style to bed.

clark, who packs little sandwiches in wax paper when you work late. your name written in block letters across the front.

clark, who leaves post-it notes behind cabinets, in the pockets of your jackets. blue ink scrawled sideways. “i love you,” “you looked really pretty this morning.”

[dandelion-teaa]

pov you met the murder husbands

[dandelion-teaa]

(not mine, found on reddit)

[dandelion-teaa]

[dandelion-teaa]

[dandelion-teaa]

💭❄️

[dandelion-teaa]

[dandelion-teaa]

I made these drug blinkies. You can use them as long as you don't claim them as yours. >_<

also, if you have any rquest i can make it.

[dandelion-teaa]

Two dorks in 3D

[dandelion-teaa]

they just wanted to watch a true crime document 😔

[dandelion-teaa]

Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness And you fill my head with you

[dandelion-teaa]

this is a rare moment in which i think abo straight cis white couples.. .

im thinking about them. mabe a bit to much but is ok. ill be fine. ill exis.t. i think i m very normal.

[dandelion-teaa]

draw ur fave

original

[dandelion-teaa]

You're Iced Out

A hex for complete social isolation

Do you have a problematic coworker, a friend who always causes drama in your group, or just someone you think deserves to be lonely?

You Will Need

A large bowl

Water

Salt

Three pennies or coins with faces 

A poppet 

Red yarn or string

A Taglock of your target

This Sigil

 “You’re Iced Out.”

Step 1

Take the pennies and freeze them into ice cubes so that when they are submerged in water later, they can be arranged more accurately. 

Step 2

Prepare your bowl. Add a copy of the ‘you’re iced out’ sigil to the bottom of the bowl. Take the poppet, add your taglock. The heavier the poppet the better for this spell, perhaps weight it down with some rocks or sand.

Step 3

Arrange the coin/ice cubes in a circle in the bowl, make sure the faces are looking outward, toward the rim of the bowl. 

Wrap the body of the poppet in the red yarn. Reflect on the behaviors you wish to punish in your target. Then, unravel the yarn and place the poppet in the bowl between the ice cubes. Imagine them friendless, alone, and completely isolated from all support. No family, no friends, no coworks, no peers. They’re naked in the cold. Dunk the poppet in water so that it is completely saturated. (To ensure it doesn’t float to the top) Then, rub the entire body in salt. (Be careful not to burn your hands when handling ice and salt)

Step 4

Fill the entire bowl with water and leave to freeze. Ideally this will be kept in your freezer until you feel that the target has suffered enough and learned a lesson.

[dandelion-teaa]

something in progress...

soon to be shared