I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. I am working on creating a sideblog to reblog recently posted fics.
I don't give permission for my writing to be copied, translated, or used for any AI purposes.* KEEP AI OUT OF ART !!
Newest Fics:
Bull by the Horns 🔥 - Scott Miller x Storm Chaser!Reader
Rain - Clark Kent x Wife!Reader
Twisted in Bedsheets 🔥- FWB!Bucky x Fem!FWB!Reader
Fics with 1k+ Notes:
He Is An Alien, After All - Clark Kent x gn!Reader
So Full. So Filled. 🔥 - Husband!Bucky x Wife!Reader
First & Last 🔥 - Brother-in-Law!Bucky x Widowed!Reader
4/22/26 update: I lost my account for a couple days, and my sideblogs with it. It will take me time to rebuild that. I appreciate all the love I received when I thought this account was lost forever. We're back baby!
just the idea of sucking clark off while he makes out with bruce on the couch 💔
18+ only for sooo many reasons
he’s got you on your knees between his spread legs. all muscle and subtle power as bruce reduces him to whines and grunts. a hand is in your hair, not even pushing down, just stroking your scalp as you make out with his flushed tip. every few seconds you give him a slow upstroke just to milk more precum out of him. there would be so much.
bruce’s hands cradle clark’s chiseled jaw as he licks into his panting mouth. you manage to catch a few glimpses of their wet tongues swirling together, and it only encourages you more. clark’s nose is smushed against the side of bruce’s. bruce oh so gently tugs on clark’s curls.
bruce pulls away first, using a hand to guide clark’s face into the crook of his neck. like a moth to a flame, clark immediately starts licking and sucking at the tender skin there. calloused fingers reach over to thumb at one of clark’s nipples until it’s hard. once it’s hard, he pinches it and pulls at it, making clark’s cock jump where it’s now buried in your throat.
you pull off him to catch your breath. clark’s balls are right there, swollen, red, and heavy. your focus shifts to them, rolling your tongue over them before popping one in your mouth. that’s what puts clark in the final stretch.
bruce strokes his cock while you massage his balls.
“isn’t her mouth incredible, clark? she’s taking care of you so good..”
and clark can’t even reply! just grunts into bruce’s neck.
doesn’t even notice when bruce catches your eye with a wicked smile and pushes your head down just barely further from your previous position.
you softly lap at clark’s ass. his fingers are so tight on the cushions of the couch you’re surprised one hasn’t ripped yet. once you point your tongue to circle his rim, he’s stuck in a cycle of thrusting up into bruce’s firm grip and grinding down onto your tongue. no words are said as he finally reaches his climax. you don’t need any. the way bruce’s eyes are full of love and desire, flicking between the two of you is enough. even if clark can’t see it, you know he can feel it.
bruce moves to kiss him through it. he sucks on his bottom lip and pushes his tongue into clark’s mouth exactly the way you know he likes it.
as he comes down you press soft kisses to his hairy thighs, trailing up his tense stomach, his flushed chest, and eventually meeting bruce for your own filthy kiss.
clark watches you both with half lidded eyes deciding who’s turn it is next to be spoiled.
—
send me requests! for DC I’m open to bruce wayne, clark kent, or poly!superbat currently 🙂
Pairing: Clark Kent x Maud Parch, ft. Jimmy
Word Count: 315
Audience: Mature
Synopsis: Maud shows Clark just how much she wants him.
A/N: June 2nd submission for June Jukebox Scribbles with the song prompt I Wanna Be Bad by Willa Ford. Lyrics in bold. Clark/Maud art by @/glacierclear
A/N ii: This pairing/character is NOT MINE! Maud belongs to the amazingly talented @glacierclear and I couldn't wait to write a little piece for these two. I adore their art so much. Go check it out! Check out the author's note at the end of the fic for the NSFW Clark art this fic is based on. I hope I did Maud justice!
Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3
Clark settles in at his desk and opens his laptop. A yellow sticky note greets him featuring a drawing of a duck winking with the caption Good Luck! -M
He is "interviewing" Superman for the first time today and mentioned to his colleague turned friend, Maud, that his nerves were high. The duck is clearly drawn in her style. He folds the note and pockets it with a smile.
Clark and Maud met a few weeks back at the vending machine. Her candy bar got stuck and he helped her retrieve it.
"You nervous?" Jimmy asks, sidling up to his desk. "I hope he's not a narcissist."
Clark furrows his brow. "What makes you think he's a narcissist?"
"The guy might have a savior complex. Plus his hair is always perfectly coiffed. He could be self obsessed."
"There's nothing wrong with a tidy hairdo," Clark retorts. "I'm anticipating a lively, kind young man."
"Clark, ever the optimist," Jimmy laughs, playfully punching his arm before lowering his voice to ask, "Hey, have you asked Maud out yet?"
"No, not yet. I don't want things to be weird between us if she doesn't like me like that."
"Oh, I think she likes you. Ask her."
A month and a few dates later, an instant message pops up on Clark's computer at work: I'm about to break the rules. Conference room C. Now.
He clears his throat and shuts his laptop before rushing upstairs.
The conference room is dark, but the door is cracked open. Clark easily slips inside.
"I've got things on my mind I never thought I would," Maud whispers from inside the room.
"Maud," Clark whispers. "We could get caught."
"So? Be quiet, big guy."
That's how Clark ends up with the tails of his dress shirt clenched between his teeth and Maud bent over the conference room table.
Characters: Bucky Barnes & unnamed child, no romantic pairings
Word Count: 303
Audience: general
Synopsis: Bucky is recognized by a young fan.
A/N: June 1st submission for June Jukebox Scribbles with the song prompt Joy to the World by Three Dog Night. Lyrics in bold.
Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3
“Aren’t you Bucky Barnes?”
Bucky looks from the museum exhibit plaque down to the inquisitor. Apparently the ball cap isn’t enough to hide his identity. A young boy beams up at him, one front tooth missing.
“You are,” he whispers, eyes growing wide.
Bucky holds a finger up to his mouth and the boy nods, complying.
“Did you really know the first Captain America?” The boy whispers.
Bucky glances around quickly, scanning the room for a caregiver, but not seeing anyone. He nods toward a nearby bench, and they both take a seat.
“Are you here with a grown-up?” Bucky asks.
"Yeah, but my baby brother threw up so my mom is in the bathroom changing him. She told me to stay in this room."
"Okay," Bucky says, silently vowing to stay here until his mom returns to keep an eye on him.
"So… did you know him?" The boy asks, nodding toward a large photo of Steve in his first Captain America suit.
"Yeah, he was a good friend of mine. We grew up together."
"What was it like being a soldier?" He asks as his legs dangle from the bench seat.
Bucky steeples his fingers while he thinks of an appropriate way to explain war to a child.
"It was scary most of the time," he starts, "but if you found something or someone to fight for, it made you brave."
"Who did you fight for?" He asks, looking up at Bucky.
Steve, he thinks, but doesn't say it. He settles on, "Everyone I loved."
"My mom says you were a ladies man," the boy retorts.
Bucky laughs and shakes his head. "I'm not sure how that rumor got started, but I did love to have my fun."
"Mom!" The boy exclaims, jumping up from the bench. "Come meet my friend!"
A scream pierced the night, which wasn’t unusual in Gotham. This one though was joined by others – heart-rending, soul-searing screeches of pure terror.
Joker, Scarecrow?
From his perch on the rooftop of Gotham Library, Tim Drake couldn’t immediately determine which.
But it would be something like that, he was almost certain. At this point, that pattern – the crescendo rising as the fog of gas pushed forward through the streets – was familiar as a rainstorm.
He reached for his rebreather, and readied his comms, waiting only to see if the screams would be joined by wails of fear or hysterical laughs.
The strands dangled into his face, silver-white, a constant reminder of what he’d endured. The abuse. The loss. The fear. The--
No, it didn’t do to dwell. To wallow unceremoniously in the mire of lost dreams. He simply pushed them back where they belonged, nestled against the black curls he’d once delighted in sharing with his adopted father and – more contentiously – oldest brother.
Well, there was no making that mistake now. He stared into the mirror – youthful, marless, unetched by the weight of his short life – and found himself itching to revisit a familiar tome: The Picture of Dorian Gray.
It was naïve to say it had been Babs from the start. It certainly hadn’t been. No, their relationship had built up slowly, bit by bit, trust fall by trauma, barbs and screaming matches and arguments and making up, and making out, until it swelled up, a massive specter looming over his life, a dark cloud of insufficiency.
Babs. She was suffocating as the Bat’s cowl. Her eyes weighed heavy in his mind, hungry for more in the relationship. For the whole of him – for a shared future.
Somehow, he had never expected to live long enough to have one.
Honestly, Dick didn’t know how the kid did it. Rip a knife out of his hand and stand after like nothing had happened -- dislocate an arm and wait unusually patiently by the Batmobile, like he wasn’t in screaming agony from his assorted injuries.
It was unnerving, watching the kid, so stoic, so unwilling to admit to weakness, to injury, to flaw.
Dick watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to look like he was looking. It would only anger the child more.
Pairing: Professor!Bucky x Fem!Student!Reader
Word Count: 306
Audience: Mature
Synopsis: Your professor lectures the class while teasing you.
A/N: June 6th submission for June Jukebox Scribbles with the song prompt Therefore I Am by Billie Eilish. Lyrics in bold.
Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3
"I think, therefore I am," he states, letting the famous quote float through the classroom. His brow quirks up as he waits for the words to stir up something in one of his students, but the lecture hall stays quiet.
"I think," he says again, sitting on the edge of his desk, "therefore I am."
You squirm on the hard wooden bench seat, trying to focus on his lecture and not on the eraser that's still on the floor from where you knocked it off the ledge with your foot earlier. You brush at the chalk dust on your black skirt, willing it to disappear. I think you should disappear, therefore do it, you beg the stain to no avail.
"It's Descartes," he says, disappointment lacing his tone. "Please read your textbooks. I know philosophy can be dry, but at least allow yourselves the opportunity to be enlightened."
"Does anyone care to argue against this viewpoint?" He stands up straight now and walks to the lecturn. His gaze glides over every student, landing on you last. "You."
"Me?" You ask, looking around the room before back to him.
He nods.
You clear your throat. "Rocks exist, but they don't have the capability of thought. Does this mean rocks don't exist?"
"Good. Simple, but right on the money," he says with a glint in his eye. "Miss…?" He trails off, pretending not to remember your name - pretending like he wasn't panting it into your ear minutes before class started.
You give him your name with a quiet smile.
"Why don't you come up and write that on the board?" He asks, gesturing to the chalkboard.
Your cheeks immediately heat, knowing that your panties are in his desk drawer and that there's a very real possibility of him dripping down your legs when you stand.
Characters: Bucky Barnes & unnamed child, no romantic pairings
Word Count: 303
Audience: general
Synopsis: Bucky is recognized by a young fan.
A/N: June 1st submission for June Jukebox Scribbles with the song prompt Joy to the World by Three Dog Night. Lyrics in bold.
Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3
“Aren’t you Bucky Barnes?”
Bucky looks from the museum exhibit plaque down to the inquisitor. Apparently the ball cap isn’t enough to hide his identity. A young boy beams up at him, one front tooth missing.
“You are,” he whispers, eyes growing wide.
Bucky holds a finger up to his mouth and the boy nods, complying.
“Did you really know the first Captain America?” The boy whispers.
Bucky glances around quickly, scanning the room for a caregiver, but not seeing anyone. He nods toward a nearby bench, and they both take a seat.
“Are you here with a grown-up?” Bucky asks.
"Yeah, but my baby brother threw up so my mom is in the bathroom changing him. She told me to stay in this room."
"Okay," Bucky says, silently vowing to stay here until his mom returns to keep an eye on him.
"So… did you know him?" The boy asks, nodding toward a large photo of Steve in his first Captain America suit.
"Yeah, he was a good friend of mine. We grew up together."
"What was it like being a soldier?" He asks as his legs dangle from the bench seat.
Bucky steeples his fingers while he thinks of an appropriate way to explain war to a child.
"It was scary most of the time," he starts, "but if you found something or someone to fight for, it made you brave."
"Who did you fight for?" He asks, looking up at Bucky.
Steve, he thinks, but doesn't say it. He settles on, "Everyone I loved."
"My mom says you were a ladies man," the boy retorts.
Bucky laughs and shakes his head. "I'm not sure how that rumor got started, but I did love to have my fun."
"Mom!" The boy exclaims, jumping up from the bench. "Come meet my friend!"
