every time you’re inbox i feel like i have to treat you to a pic of me (i’m addicted to your compliments), selfies under the cute.

anyway who up thinking about fucking dick grayson rn?

superboy prime, who's so cocky in his day-to-day, everything he says radiates narcissism right until the moment he has you in his lap. superboy prime -- clark kent, freezing up underneath you because your lips are on his neck. he keeps his hands on your waist, subtly slipping them under your shirt "oh...fuck, thats it, do whatever you want." he means for it to sound far more alturistic than it does pathetic. still, he's bucking up against you through your clothes and grabbing at your tits like this is the first pair he's ever felt.

the weather after a storm was always beautiful — the sun poking through, the sky ranging from orange to purple with that bright blue peeking through, dust particles floating about making it look like there were fairies flying around you. that’s what you were staring at now as you slip further and further into that relaxed state that only scott can induce.

scott really didn’t wanna bring you on the chase. he said it was too scary, too loud, too dangerous — but you’d insisted. anything to spend more time with him. he’d set out plans to follow a tornado, and seeing as it was a smaller one with less risk and he wasn’t planning on getting too close he decided to bring you along to see for yourself.

you relax against his body in the back seat, having driven out far away from the weather conditions, now parked up in the deserted countryside. he’s got a thick arm wedged between your legs, rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your now-soaked panties. the two of you had been at it for atleast ten minutes now.

“was it scary?” he hums quietly, lips against your temple as you buck your hips, the trembles only just going away.

“mm—mhm…” you nod, focused on the hazy bouts of pleasure he was bringing you.

“well you were really brave, you know that?” he dips his head lower to look at you a little more from the side, finally pulling your panties to the side. you twitch at the cool air gracing your sopping arousal.

scott sinks a thick finger into your needy pussy, holding you a little tighter when you squirm — too deep now in that hazy headspace to talk unprompted. instead you just babble, voice high and incoherent.

“i know.” he reassures, curling his finger to massage that gooey spot inside. “can you say it with me baby? can you say ‘i’m a brave girl’?”

you whine, hand clawing at his to try and push another finger inside. you were spoiled, used to his long thick cock bruising all your special spots. “mmm! ughh!” seems to be the best you can do.

“no— not giving you what you want until you say it for me. go ahead. ‘i’m a brave girl.’” his deep voice is steady, anchoring you and you part your trembling glossy lips.

“m’a brave girl.” you whimper. scott rewards you with a kiss on the side of your head.

“i made daddy proud.” he recites, slow and sure of himself, second finger teasing your entrance.

“m—made daddy proud!” you rush out, wiggling your hips impatiently.

“there you go.” he praises, squelching two fingers into your heat. “good girls get to cum on my fingers and my cock. you want that, honey?”