1 DC
(Closed, Moderated, Unrevealed)
Recent bookmarks
-
Take Me Back to Smallville by fitbby14
Fandoms: Superman - All Media Types, Man of Steel (2013), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman (Comics), Smallville
18 Sep 2023
Tags
Summary
You've returned to your hometown of Smallville, here to finally get your life on track and figure out where it is you belong.
But your childhood friend, Clark Kent is back too and that...complicates things.
*Please remember that most of this stuff I just make up! So please don't be angry with me if everything but certain names are nothing like the movies or comics. It's just an excuse to write more smut about a man in a cape alright lol
-
Tags
Summary
“And what does Superman do?” you ask.
“Whatever she wants.” Clark breathes.
or: You and Clark have a conversation about Superman...
-
Tags
Summary
“You have no idea,” he groans, breaking away just enough to speak, chin slick, eyes dark, pupils blown wide, “what this does to me.”
It’s true. You don’t know what it’s like for him, not entirely. You don’t know how loud you are in his head.
The sound of your pulse hammering under the layers of your skin. The flutter of your lashes. The heat blooming just beneath your navel. The slick parting of you when you clenched around nothing as he kissed his way down your stomach.
You’ve talked about it before—quietly, breathlessly, the few times he let himself admit how different this is for him. What it’s like.
You smell like heaven to him. That’s what he said once. Whispered it, almost ashamed, as if saying it out loud might make you think less of him and not want him even more.
-
Tags
Summary
God, you really do love him like this though.
“Sorry,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, dark curls mussed. “I’m sorry, I can’t—I can’t stop. You feel too good, baby, you’re so good.”
Clark’s voice breaks on the last word like he’s begging you to understand, but the thrust of his hips says otherwise. There's nothing apologetic about the way he’s fucking you—like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Like his survival depends on it. The bed’s screaming under the weight of his body, your body, his strength.
Your spine arches off the bed as his hips slap against yours hard enough to sting, wet and relentless. “Clark,” you gasp, nails raking down his back uselessly. “Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop.”