guiltandguitarstrings

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RACHEL ZEGLER as LUCY GRAY BAIRD The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023)

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ADDAMS FAMILY VALUES 1993, dir. Barry Sonnenfeld

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i did this one quickly then jejej small jason

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I need a fic please

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height difference

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Wonder Woman and Steven Universe because they would be BESTIES

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considering how Tim and Damian both admire Dick so much, i bet you Bruce tries to use him against them whenever they misbehave, except it always backfires because Jason is always nearby and completely ruins it because HE actually grew up with Dick and knows that Bruce is full of shit.

Bruce: i’m disappointed in both of you, and i know that Dick would be too, were he here.

Damian: sorry father…

Tim: yeah… our bad, we won’t do it again.

Jason, walking by: what’d you do?

Damian: got into a public fight during an interview.

Bruce: Dick was never like this when he was your age, he’d be appalled at your lack of self control.

Damian: please do not tell him.

Bruce: well i might have to unless you learn to behave!

Jason: ? B fuck off, there’s a youtube video floating around somewhere of me and Dick at a Gala and he bodyslams me into a table full of shrimp because i said his hairline was receding.

Tim and Damian:

Bruce, teeth gritted: yes thank you, Jason, for that WONDERFUL addition to the conversation.

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"BANZAI!"

All shot using real figures, lighting and miniature sets. My usual foil for water technique and cotton wool for the splashes were used into create the water

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Zutara Week 2025, Day 3: Rescue

I tried to smile, I was suffocating though But here with you, I can finally breathe You say you're no good, but you're good for me I've been hoping to change, now I know we can change But I won't if you're not by my side

AtLA x KPop Demon Hunters. If you haven't seen it yet... you should go do that. Also, happy @zutaraweek! :D

♥ Please do not repost. If you like it and want to show people, reblog this post or share a link to this page instead. Thank you!

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Sillies

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3 apples tall 🍎

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wiping his kisses off (clark kent x fem!reader)

summary: you hop on the trend of wiping off your boyfriends kisses off, only to cave in a matter of seconds.

content: just fluff, pet names, clark being the cutest ever i want to smush his cheeks

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it was cruel. but you couldn’t help yourself.

all clark ever wanted to do after work was kiss you all over and hold you as if your body disintegrated the stress of the day from his. but tonight, after hours of doomscrolling, you just had to try the trend on clark.

you hear the lock on the front door click, in sync with a heavy exhale of relief. you turn to look over the couch to see an especially disheveled looking Clark taking off his shoes with his heels and placing his briefcase on the floor.

“hey, you,” you chirp, leaning back on the couch to get an upside-down view of your boyfriend, your voice so syrupy and inviting Clark could practically start floating.

“hi baby,” he says softly, smiling when he sees you sitting so pretty on the couch, quilt draped over your lap with a book on top. he pads over to you, stalking above your form behind the couch. “missed you, missed your face,” he bends down to meet your laid back head and presses a long, tender kiss to your lips. when you separate, he barely has time to admire your face (as he always does) before you wipe your lips with the back of your hand. he slightly retracts away, brow furrowing in confusion. he ducks down to kiss you one more time, to make sure he’s seeing right - only to be met with the same sight he’d witnessed before.

“why are you doing that?” he asks, face inches from yours.

“doing what?” you act oblivious, stuck between keeping a serious face or grabbing his and kissing it all over, saying you didn’t mean it.

“wiping them off,” he says, deflated, and it makes your heart ache. he’s so innocent and so obviously hurt. you know Clark and you know where his mind has immediately gone - to the pit of self-doubt that tells him it’s his fault. “did I do something?”

that damn kicked puppy look is what gets to you break. you spring up, bouncing in the couch cushions, to throw your arms around his neck.

“imsorryimsorryimsorry,” you say between kisses that land in various places on his face. he’s confused at first, but his arms eventually fall to their natural place around your waist. “it was a prank..” you admit, biting your lip.

“a prank?” he raises his eyebrows. “you wiped my kisses off, as a prank? What happened to my sweet girl?” he pouts, the mix of your pet name and how he looks so genuinely disappointed is enough to make your stomach sink with the realization that maybe - no, definitely - you fucked up. your nerves settle when a smile breaks at the corners of his mouth.

“jesus, you’re going to kill me,” he lifts a hand to brush the hair out of your face, palm resting on your cheek. “i thought you were mad at me or something. I got scared.” he says softly. Ouch.

“fuck, no, Clark,” you grab his face, smushing your lips to his in a harsh kiss. “i’m so sorry, I felt so bad doing it - I just saw it on TikTok - fuck, I’m sorry, I love you-“ you kiss him again, and this time he reaches up to wipe your kiss off his mouth.

your jaw falls open, releasing a dramatic gasp. “touché, Kent. touché,” you smile, tracing his jaw with your finger. “can we kiss for real now?”

“oh, now you want to kiss for real?” he teases, squeezing the flesh on your hips. “you’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“and ‘m still your sweet girl?”

“always.”

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a/n: pls send asks so I don’t fall off the deep end!! im working on my last request now pls give me everything

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clark kent accidentally using you like a stress toy after a hard day of being superman

you don’t even get a hello before clark’s got his lips on yours.

he’d barely shut the front door before he was on you—lifting you off your feet with a soundless grunt, kissing you so deeply you forgot your own name. the door didn’t close all the way. his glasses are still on. his shirt’s still half-tucked from wherever he came back from. and he doesn’t seem to care.

his mouth trails down your neck, hot and shaky. he doesn’t talk yet, but you can feel it in his grip—he’s tense. wired. too quiet. the kind of quiet that comes after something bad.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he exhales hard—like just touching you let him breathe again.

“bad day?” you murmur, brushing your lips against his temple.

he just nods. silently carries you to the bedroom like his life depends on it. like he needs you right now more than air.

then?

he lays you down.

tugs your clothes off like he’s being careful, but still rushing. his hands shake when he lines himself up, and he looks down at you like he’s asking for forgiveness before he’s even started.

“sorry if i’m bein’ selfish, sweetheart,” he says softly, cupping the underside of your knee and pushing it up toward your chest. “i promise i’ll take care of you after. i just—i really need you right now.”

and then he sinks into you.

you gasp. every time you think you’ve adjusted to his size, you forget—he’s massive. too big. stretches you so wide you feel the outline of him in your belly. but the worst part is that he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, keeps pushing your legs up, folding you into a mating press as his hips press flush against yours, cock buried to the hilt.

“oh gosh,” he breathes, jaw trembling. “you’re just so warm. so perfect. always take me so well…”

you can’t even respond—just whimper and arch into him, and he starts moving.

deep, dragging thrusts that shake the bedframe. his grip is vice-tight on the back of your thighs, his broad chest pressing your knees to your shoulders, sweat already starting to bead at his temple. and then—finally—he talks.

“this guy… this absolute jerk thought he could take down a whole city block,” he grits out, still speaking like he’s complaining to a friend, not while pounding your cunt like it owes him rent. “flung a taxi at a daycare, would you believe that? and people think i’m too soft when i hold back—golly…”

he punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, making your toes curl.

“so i didn’t. i didn’t hold back this time, i—I really gave it to him, you know? but then lex starts in with his ‘oh superman, you’re a danger to society’ speech and—good grief, darlin’, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—”

your fingers dig into his biceps as he fucks you harder, angling his hips just right to grind against your sweet spot. your eyes roll. your thighs shake. and clark—poor sweet clark—is too in his head to realize he’s fucking the soul out of you while venting about his commute.

“i was just tryin’ to help. like i always do. and people still looked at me like i’m some kinda monster, but then i come home and—and you let me do this, and—and god, baby—you always make me feel human.”

you can’t breathe. can’t think. your hands are scrabbling at his back, legs trembling in his grip, and he’s just moaning softly into your neck now, whispering sweet nothings while his cock splits you open.

“m’sorry, sugar,” he mumbles as your eyes roll back, pace never faltering. “didn’t mean to go this hard—just… needed to feel close to you. needed to feel good. you always make me feel good, angel.”

you’re gonna cry. he’s so deep you feel like you’re gonna pass out, and he doesn’t even realize he’s got you halfway to god while still talking like a 1940s housewife.

you try to tell him you’re close, but it comes out as a breathless sob. clark pulls back to look at you—sees the tears, the shaky mouth, the way your body’s convulsing beneath him—and his expression softens, even while his cock’s still grinding into your cervix like a battering ram.

“oh gosh,” he whispers, instantly panicked. “did i hurt you? are you—darlin’, are you okay? i didn’t even notice how hard i was goin’, i’m so sorry—”

you cling to him, voice wrecked.

“clark—don’t stop. please, don’t stop—just wanna cum—”

he exhales like you just saved his life. kisses your temple. then fucks you so deep you see stars.

your orgasm hits like a tidal wave—loud, messy, devastating. clark groans your name like a prayer and finishes seconds later, cock twitching inside you as he fills you to the brim, thick and hot and so much that it leaks out around his base, dripping onto the sheets in warm streaks.

and when it’s over, when your body’s gone limp and your breathing is ragged and you feel like you’ve been hit by a train (a hot, kansas-born train), clark gathers you up like you’re something precious. kisses your hair. wraps you in a blanket and tucks you under his chin like nothing happened.

“gosh, you’re good to me,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you put up with me when i get like that.”

you smile weakly, snuggled against his chest, still full of him.

“you can be rough with me anytime, clark. just… maybe warn me first so i'm prepared to see heaven again.”

he chuckles, sheepish.

“sorry, angel. guess i don’t know my own strength.” a/n: i still havent watched the new superman movie yet but i just had to

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hey queen!!! can we get maybe a size kink fic with clark kent?? i mean height difference, belly bulge, everything, thank you

MDNI 18+

— size kink scenarios with clark kent

cw: vaginal sex, size kink, belly bulge, not proof read

height difference - it was no secret that clark was tall, a towering height of 6’4 and 240 pounds, could point him out in a crowded room. though it was the small things that made you have a small ache in between your thighs. things like him having you bend down as you spoke about your day, or how you had to step on his shoes, then go on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.

fucking you in a headlock - the room is filled with the filthiest noises when clark fucked you, lewd skin slapping, the sound of your gushing cunt and the combination of his grunts and your high pitch moans.

but right now, you were a babbling mess, drool dribbling down your chin and down to his biceps as your eyes rolled back.

“taking it so well baby,” he cooed as he continued to rut into you like a feral animal, trying his best to contain his strength.

his large muscular frame held you tightly, essentially making you his own personal flesh light. your cheeks squished together as you babbled mindlessly, him fucking your brains out.

belly bulge - “fuck,” clark hissed as your gummy walls clenched around him, so warm and inviting, almost milking him dry. “too much clark,” you whined, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, only to have his large hands squeeze the side of your body. “don’t run away baby, just take the whole thing.”

it was a sight truely, watching your small cunt accomodate and stretch out only for him, and how he had a visual of how truely deep he was in you. “see this?” his voice hoarse as he gently traced the small bulge. “this is how far i’m inside you.”

sometimes the sight was simply just too much, his mind going hazy as he thrusted harshly into your cunt, the headboard of the bed smashing against the wall, and the bed creaking with his weight whilst your nails scratched his back.

wearing his shirt whilst letting him fuck you - if you weren’t on his cock bouncing like an eager bunny, then you would’ve been the cutest thing he’s ever seen wearing his shirt. your frame absolutely drowning in it as it fell down your shoulders, the material bunching up as you continued to ride him. “you like wearing my clothes so much don’t you baby?” his hands gently tugging the material, his cock swelling even more at the sight. him inside you, and you wearing his shirt.

maybe he’d have you on your knees too.

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I really like them.

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finally finished this wip!!

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nsfw headcanons . clark kent can never keep his hands to himself, especially during sex. he wants to feel you, feel how your blood rushes beneath your skin as his dick stirs up your insides; feel how your breath hitches in your throat while he's got you in a head lock; feel the way your tits and ass bounce in his hands while he pounds up into you like a mad man on steroids. sex with you isn't just sex, it's intimacy.

clark kent who can't decide which position is his favourite, so he just does them all. doggy? he'll manoeuvre you into a bent position right away, holding your wrists behind your back as you drool into the pillow, toes curling as you whine and scream so prettily for him, the curves of your hips recoiling from the impact. mating press so he can see how pretty your face looks when you cry for him, trapped beneath his body so deliciously and tight, unable to do anything but take it. however, more often than not, he'll find himself standing, lifting you into his arms as you giggle about how strong he is, well, before he begins his ruthless assault that is; arms hooked beneath your legs as barely a 1000th of his strength is used to bounce you up and down onto him, his mushroom tip punching your cervix so deep it has you scrabbling at his shoulders.

clark kent whose sexual quirk is talking to your pussy whenever he gets between your legs. you used to think he was talking to you when he would murmur in that drunken daze 'how pretty you were for him today' and 'how messy you were getting.' but that was before he stopped calling it an it, and started using she. 'you hear how she's talking to me, baby? you're so fucking noisy...'

clark kent who has you sit on his face, glasses still on the bridge of his nose as he pulls you onto his mouth, annoyed when you even think of hovering, foolishly scared to put all your weight on him. "baby, i'm superman, sit down." and he gets so nasty too, groaning into your folds as he practically slurps on your clit, hands digging into the flesh of your thighs for dear life and to keep you rooted and still for him.