For reblogs!

"guys, you will not believe what happened today—" clark stumbles as he rushes to toe his shoes off, probably eager to rant about the idiots he had to talk to at the comic store.

the couch's squeak gets cut off as jason freezes behind you. his cock manages a single, pathetic throb in your cunt before he grumbles, "can it wait until—i don't know—we're done here?"

you can practically see the way his face pinches, even though he's buried your face halfway into the cushions. clark's mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.

"uh...you're telling me to wait, but you started without me?" he asks, offense clear in his tone.

you flick your eyes up, gaze meeting your boyfriend's sharp, tensed jaw. yeah, you think to yourself, he was definitely about to come.

"well, get over here, genius," you say to your other boyfriend, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. jason takes it a step further and pulls you against his flushed, firm chest, effortlessly taking you with him as he sits up.

"don't waste your time," he teases, hooking your pliant legs over his knees and spreading you for your third to see how deep you're taking him.

clark's ears flare scarlet, throat working, blinks coming faster.

you hold your arms out to him while shifting to chide, "don't provoke him, jay."

he presses soft lips to your shoulder, so unlike the way he'd been fucking you before the welcome interruption. "sorry."

clark steps closer, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. jason throbs in your pussy again at the shield burned into clark's chest, at the taunting grin on his face. "yeah, jay, stop being an instigator."

you give him an exasperated look and readjust yourself the best you can with seven inches in your pussy. with a grunt, jason's hand flashes out and drags clark to kneel at eyelevel with your joined sexes. your thighs are trembling when he settles between them without a complaint, like second nature.

"oh," clark swallows unsteadily, crystal-blue eyes transfixed on your pussy, "i guess i can pipe down for a little."

the stretch in your legs and the pleasure simmering under your skin makes your head hazy, and clark nudging his nose against your clit feels like an afterthought.

“so pretty like this.” his words are warm on your inner thigh, smarting along your tendons. jason hisses when you flutter around him, tipping his hips up in return. your sigh trembles at the nudge of his cockhead against that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

the calluses on jason's fingers trail up beneath your soft camisole, catch on your nipple, the pert bud hitching between his thumb and forefinger. your thighs twitch again, and clark settles his warm, warm hands on your skin. the heat stays even after he moves on.

“can you touch yourself for me, baby?” when clark says it, he laps at the ring of arousal pooling at jason's base, dripping down his balls. the man behind you mutters a quiet fuck into your neck, gripping your waist for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive when you press your fingers to your clit and trace small, jerky circles over it. clark watches you and jason squirm, drinking in every flex in jason’s fingers and every attempt to close your thighs.

you whine, breathy and low, and he must be having enough of it because he dips forward and laps at your fingers as they slide between your labia. you make another pitched noise, gasping in tandem with jason.

jason lets one of his hands inch down, down, down until his fingers twist in clark's curls, until he’s pulling the black haired man closer into where the two of you are joined, until—

“fuck—clark, y’re filthy,” he groans. jason doesn’t wait for his boyfriend to respond, nipping at the tender area under your ear that makes you jerk your fingers just a little faster and moan just a little louder.

clark matches your pace, tongue cleaning the slick off your skin, mouth suckling at your clit when you pull into the apex of the tight circles you’ve been drawing. jason's right; it is fucking filthy.

he can’t stop rutting his hips up into your cunt, chasing the flat of clark's tongue as he swipes it across your fingers again. you shudder when jason moans, and clark just goes straight back to mouthing all over your clit and the hilt of jason's cock.

your stomach is starting to knot up again, neck tightening, shoulder blade drawing together. jason's as wound-up as you are, too caught in the web of your fingers and clark's tongue and the way you’re clamping just right around his cockhead.

your free hand joins jason's in the nest of black curls making a home between both of your thighs; you tug, just a bit, at the base near clark's scalp.

the man makes a low, stomach-deep sound that comes out rumbling around your stretched-out slit. jason's strained fuck goes ricocheting between your ribs, pinging right into your heat.

you coil clark's hair around and pull again; he makes the same choked noise, burying himself deeper into you and jason. you aren’t even sure if he can breathe there or if the cream that’s leaking out of your cunt is all he needs to fucking sustain himself.

clark pulls back and lets his eyes hunt the movement of your fingers slipping in your own wetness and his saliva. jason reels him back in by the back of his neck, muttering dirty nothings into your ear.

and then you swear you see stars, because clark is pressing his touch to your clit too, grazing his teeth over both of your fingers. jason grinds up for the nth time, twitching in in the way he always does when his balls are touched into that spongy spot that has you whining: please, jay, clark, right there, don’t stop—

he cleans yours and jason’s mess; the gothamite’s hips thrust mindlessly when he cums, heat spilling from your spasming cunt as your digits freeze up. clark's fingers don’t, and he keeps tracing shapes that aren’t even circles anymore all over your twitching clit.

you moan, low and spent and fuck, you can’t help but try to slam your legs close again. “cee, s’too much, please, i can’t.”

he just tilts his head to the side, shallowly digging his teeth into the plush of your thigh. clark taps at the junction of jason’s softening cock and balls—he shudders against your back, whimpering.

the freckles on clark’s forehead follow the movement of his brows when they tilt up and his breath goes beady in the humidity at the peak of your sex when he begs:

You could be making out with a merman, having your hands wander until you reach the part where it should be, but nothing is there, just a bump. But you quickly realized that a slit runs vertically along it. Your fingers began to trace along the vertical slit, and as you do, the merman starts to shiver and gasp under your touch.

The merman would be smirking between kisses, anticipating and wondering what your next move would be, or he'd say something along the lines of '' work for it'' or ''make it show''

Part 1 here

𓏲 ✉️ྀི ׂ 𝓪𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝔀𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 contains links to adult content on x. u must be logged in to view. have fun, angels ! ꣖ mdni ꣓

𑄹 teasing him until he's whining and rutting against your foot

𑄹 leon quickly masters the use of his tongue

𑄹 he gives your pussy the princess treatment it deserves

𑄹 he becomes a whimpering mess when he's inside you

𑄹 leon's obsessed with his plus!sized gf and her plush thighs

𑄹 he begged you to make a sextape of you riding him

𑄹 inexperienced!leon who cums untouched

𑄹 playing with him like he's your own little toy

𑄹 riding him before bed is an absolute must

𑄹 'just the tip' never really means 'just the tip'

𑄹 best friend!leon who you convince to fool around with

𑄹 he knows exactly what he's doing with his fingers

𑄹 he was in the mood for something sweet

𝓵𝐨𝐨𝐤𝓲𝐧𝐠 𝓯𝐨𝐫 𝓶𝐨𝐫𝐞 .ᐣ library taglist form guidelines

synopsis: kal-el helps you get home whenyoure drunk which leads into an argument

cw: this is a part three however i believe it can be read standalone, swearing, reader is drunk, Kal doesn’t know how to express his feelings, miscommunication i think, no happy ending, no comfort, possible grammar errors, heart to shart his ass is not listening, maybe a bit ooc, 1.4k words

a/n: tried to make the fade look like his chest piece kinda,,, im NOT proud of this i fear thats the case with all of my fics though, i like writing this trope though ill make him suffer more.

tags♡: @twentytomidnight

part 1, part 2

“ckme ovre” 

The message lit his phone screen. 

He knew exactly what you meant. He always knew. Even after you swiftly deleted it. 

Even right now, when you were at your friend's house. He knew you meant in about 40 minutes, when you would get home. 

He also knew he shouldn’t go. Sure, he wasn’t the most stand-up guy, hell, he doesn’t even wish to be a stand-up guy. He’s not a good person and he doesn’t want to be. 

But an ounce of him, a small, still humane part of him screamed at him. It told him not to go. He knew he shouldn’t and god, did he resist it. 

Yet somehow he found himself back in the sky, following you. Watching over you. 

You kept looking at your phone, reading his messages, not paying attention. 

For Christ’s sake, you were so absorbed in the texts you almost wandered into the road. 

He groaned, his fingers angrily tapping away before he made a smooth descent close to you. 

For the first time though, his words failed him. Your seemingly tear-stained eyes, the iron grip on your phone, the look you gave him. Something between fear and relief. It made him stop and feel something new. A feeling deep in his gut that felt like he was getting hollowed out from the inside. 

“Kal…” You began, trying to find the following words to no avail. 

“Just— let me take you home.” He spat out. He hated this new feeling. And now that he spoke, it grew larger. The closer he got to you the deeper he felt it. 

Your arms slowly fell to your sides. You put your phone back in your pocket before walking towards him. Excruciatingly slowly. The uncertainty is palpable between the two of you. You tried to speak again, your mouth hanging open for a second before closing again. 

“Don’t. You don’t need to.” He said. He didn’t want to listen to your voice. Not right now. Not when he knew he wasn’t in his right mind and could do something very, very stupid. 

“C’mon,” He whispered, unnaturally soft. You nodded getting close enough to him so he could wrap his hands around you. One on your back, one under your knees. With a swift thump, air was flung into your face as you gained altitude. 

The soft night breeze sobered you up just a little to make you realize what you actually got yourself into. 

The door swung open as soon as your chauffeur turned the key, realizing he had put too much force into a push. 

Your apartment was a mess, you were still unpacking from the sudden move after all. 

The couch had pillows and a blanket thrown over it, a temporary bed. Kal-el sighed, setting you down as gently as his consciousness allowed him to. 

He was angry. He was a lot of feelings actually. Angry, sad, disappointed, annoyed. And he hated to admit it, but even a little nervous. 

His hand guided the door behind him to shut. Watching you slowly shed your shoes and bag. 

His hands itched to help you with your coat, begging to feel your shoulders and arms again. 

He clenched his fists, trying to satisfy said feeling. It helped for now. 

You helped yourself with the coat, pulling it off slowly— because you were feeling intoxicated— but to Kal it seemed like you were torturing him on purpose, and he couldn’t even blame you. 

You turned to him, your still puffy and red eyes glaring into his. He swore that if it weren’t for the glasses he was wearing, you could see straight into his mind. 

Your eyes studied him slowly. His stance, his face. He began to feel like prey. Another new feeling he’s felt today. 

“Why did you come?” Your voice is still cracking a bit, in virtue of the crying you did on your way back. 

And now it was his turn to be speechless. His mouth opening the slightest before closing, pressing his lips into a thin line. He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned on the door behind him. 

You stood there. Waiting for an answer. Your hands loosely by your sides. You weren't provoking anything. You just wanted answers, which the big guy in your apartment couldn’t provide. 

You moved closer, hoping that it would make him speak. 

Nothing. 

You inched closer. 

Nothing. His stance unmoving. His eyes following yours. 

You took another step towards him. Now only about 20 inches away. He only took a deep breath, his exhale shaky. 

“Why?” the faintest whisper echoed between you two. Tinged with the sadness and desperation for an answer that wallowed inside your heart. 

When your words reach him, you see his mouth twitch slightly before he turns his head away from you. 

He’s avoiding you. Again. Never letting you get close, never letting you see what he actually feels or what he thinks of you. The buzzing in your head becomes louder as you step closer to him. 

“Why? Why did you come over? Why are you like this? Why can’t you leave me alone?” You shoot a barrage of questions to which he huffs. 

“I don't fucking get it. You want me to stop talking to you, I do, you get mad. You contact me first after I already couldn't give a fuck. I come over because YOU asked. You get mad. What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He answered, visibly annoyed, his jaw clenched and his arms tensing up. 

“I—“ before you could have the chance to respond he cuts you off. 

“No. Listen. I know you hate me all that jazz what-fucking-ever. What I don’t know is why you’re still here. Why do you want me here?”

A silent moment passes. 

“I don’t know.” You say simply and he nods. 

“But you came…”You notice and he lets out a shallow laugh at that, placing his hands on his hips. He took a soft breath before responding. 

“I couldn’t leave you alone.” His thumb dips into his hip, a desperate attempt at grounding himself. He paused for a second, considering whether he should tell you the truth or remain silent. 

“There’s something always gnawing at me. Each time I turn away from you it’s like I can feel you right behind me. You’re always there, deep-rooted in my fucking brain. And I tried— I really fucking tried getting rid of you but for crying out loud…” He bit his cheek, looking away yet again. He was speaking faster than he could think. Maybe it was easier expressing everything, knowing you wouldn’t remember much of this conversation. 

“I don’t know why I can’t.” He said, or whispered rather. 

“You're lying” you said, shaking your head. A few stray tears falling down your chin again. 

“You're a fucking liar. You're just saying this shit so I forgive you or so you could fuck. I know you. " You almost had me goddamnit.” You chuckle dryly and wipe away the drops of sadness. 

“I’m not fucking lying. I really wish I were.”

A small shaky exhale. 

“I’m not.” He whispered back at you. 

“You make me go insane. And I can’t help but—“ 

‘love it’ He cursed himself for ever thinking of that word. 

“Enjoy it.”

You sniffled again, wrapping your hands around yourself. 

“Yeah well, you make me go insane too. And I, for one, don't enjoy it.” He nods. He tried focusing his eyes on anything other than your eyes. Your sweet, sweet eyes that took hold of him every single time. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say” Kal shrugged lightly. 

“What do you want from me Kal?” 

The question lingered in the air. 

Kent felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t speak. The one time he wished he had a quick comeback, something good, something to snap back at you, he came up empty-handed. Each attempt to speak made his chest seize.

‘I want you’ the words pressed themselves against his lips, begging to escape, begging to be heard. 

“I have no clue.” He swallowed his words. 

“That’s fucking rich.” You laughed angrily, pacing around trying to contain your bitterness. 

“Just go, Kent.” You muttered, pointing at the door with your remaining strength. He didn't need you to repeat yourself, immediately turning to leave. Right before darting away, stealing a single glance at you which you didn't care to reciprocate. 

ಇ . . . superboy-prime yaps while fucking you silly !

"no, oh my god, babe," he chuckles, hot mouth kissing the column of your neck so sweetly, letting his mumbled info-dump seep into your skin. "see, togruta and twi'lek appendages have completely different functions—"

you moan, soft and unsteady and all too susceptible to the way his cock sits so snugly in you. he rocks into your heat, seemingly unaffected by the way you gasp and flutter when he brushes the spot that makes your head spin and your pussy squelch like one of the eldritch monsters he loves.

and he just keeps talking.

he presses his flushed cheek to yours. sinks the thick fingers of his left hand into the plush of your thigh, plays with your slick, throbbing clit with his right thumb. casually lets a smirk play on his stupid, cute mouth—you can feel the impression of his dimple—as his voice dips into gravel against the shell of your ear:

"twi'lek lekku are prehensile and have some limbic cortex function, so physiological expression of emotion and language—"

sharp need coils tighter in your belly, making you whimper into the warmth of his neck. "mm, c—"

"shh, i know, baby," clark rasps, letting the hand on your thigh travel up and press firmly below your navel. you feel all of him, every ridge and vein, slipping out a pitched sound caught between a choked groan and a squeal.

he continues, though this time thrusting a little more urgently, thank god. "and togruta lekku are connected to their montrals, which—fuck, you just got so tight—ah, are used for echo-locative purposes because their species is carnivorous..."

"'m gonna cum, clark," you pant, eyes squeezing shut as the pads of your fingers press against his scarred, sculpted chest desperately. he hums, nosing your cheek and flicking your swollen bundle of nerves like a joystick.

"okay, okay, 'm sorry," is the hushed, completely unapologetic reply. clark's cock lets the filthy, wet sound of him plunging in and out of your cunt speak for his mouth, which is sucking a new hickey into your shoulder.

still, you can tell that he wants to talk—the tense line in his broad, muscular shoulders says so.

"that's it, that's it, c'mon sweetheart, give it to me..."

you cum on his cock with a choked cry, senses dimming as your system sharpens on the overwhelming pleasure spilling from your core, the rhythmic clench of your walls around him.

Sightseeing in Gotham (2): The fall

Part 1 here.

And a close up

thank you for the compliments ;; honestly i feel like my characters don't stand out enough haha, but i have a couple methods i employ to try and counteract my desire to draw everything the same.

SHAPES are a very important tool when it comes to design! i drew three characters, same hair and general look, but if you use different shape languages, different variations of soft curves and hard angles, and create distinct forms for the hair and eyes, it can make a world of difference! and then you just use those same shapes if you wanna draw the character again!

using some of my girls as an example, i try to give my more stylized/anime-esque characters even more stand-out features to help people identify them. color helps a LOT for these characters, but even if the image were completely grayscale, you'd still be able to tell them apart :)

and they all have hair over one side of their face, but in different styles and volume levels and presentations, so it still feels new when you're looking at them!

part of avoiding same-face is a style thing, but a huge part of it is just knowing design and knowing how to make design work for you! it can take a lot of experimenting, but overtime it becomes second nature!