reidslovely

[reidslovely]

i need david as ultraman so bad

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[reidslovely]

THE ONLY CLARK KENTS EVER

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CAN’T WAIT FOR LOVE.

sfw + nsfw. read at your own risk.

ᥫ᭡ thinking about dilf!clark..

ᥫ᭡ how the night clark got you pregnant, you begged him to cum inside you for the first time. his glasses were all foggy as he pounded into you, confused. “are you sure?” “do you promise?” “are you positive?” was all you heard, and you only nodded relentlessly until you felt him spill into you.

ᥫ᭡ how clark would touch your stomach whenever he got the chance. to feel the baby growing inside of you, to feel how big you’d gotten since the last…5 minutes he touched you.

ᥫ᭡ clark was excited. he was going to have a mini superman kent with the love of his life. he’d thank whatever god was out there that he’d been blessed with this life. with this family.

ᥫ᭡ clark had always been a big guy. 6’5 sitting at 230 pounds. your child looked so much smaller in his hands. and he’d only gotten toner, tanner, and impossibly hotter. he grew out his facial hair, and now he had a tummy, and if you weren’t already in love before— hell, you definitely were now.

ᥫ᭡ clark walked around shirtless all of the time now, the hair on his chest leading all the way down to his happy trail..you missed what was in those pants of his.

ᥫ᭡ clark kent who’s gotten incredibly comfortable slapping your ass during any activity. bending over to grab milk from the fridge? smack. in the shower? yes he’ll be there with you or sneak in just to smack. out in public? smack. he has no shame anymore.

ᥫ᭡ oh, and best believe he put your child onto the mighty crabjoys when they got older. converting the family one at a time.

ᥫ᭡ clark had gotten much more gentle than before— for the most part. when you both had had sex after going months without it (just in case, he said.) he almost whined slipping back into you. his fists balled next to your head as his hips smacked against yours. your hands were on his sides, his beard poking your skin every-time you kissed him. he closed his eyes for a split second, just to take it all in. he could ruin you right here right now— but you were the mother of his child, his soon to be fiancé (not that you knew that), so he caressed your face, burying his cock deep inside you, but at a slow pace.

ᥫ᭡ clark who makes the best father the worlds ever seen. he loves you and your child more than anything and he’d go to hell and back to ensure you knew that.

[reidslovely]

⌗﹒CRANEKISS ꒱ ⋆ . ˚ ꕀ || C.K.

( FARMER!CLARK KENT HEADCANONS )

“I KNOW YOU FEEL ME BURN UP JUST LIKE THE HEAT OF THE SUN. . . I'M CHARMED TO KISS YOU LONG. ”

₊˚✧ ﾟ. summary ₊˚✧ ﾟ. The only way Clark Kent can resist your enchantments is by working on the family farm, knowing what awaits him once he steps inside the house, and the best part? You're totally thrilled to have that effect on him.

₊˚✧ ﾟ. content warnings ₊˚✧ ﾟ. +18 minors dni !! FARMER!CLARK KENT AU · size difference · breeding kink · overstimulation · slight dom!clark · semi-public · marking · aftercare · clark is deeply in loveeeee · mutual masturbation.

₊˚✧ ﾟ. word count ₊˚✧ ﾟ. 2.7K

₊˚✧ ﾟ. notes ₊˚✧ ﾟ. Istg wanna start doing my masterlist but it takes too much work and my tumblr soul was interrupted all month, but superman officially dropped in digital and my re-watches haven't stopped, and I saw THIS tiktok and farmer!Clark just clicked for me, hope you all like it — english isn't my first language, reblogs are appreciated <3 my requests for any DC character are open!

farmer!Clark who always comes home with dirt-stained hands and a fatigue that seems to be etched into his bones. But when he sees you, he smiles as if all the weight on his shoulders lifts away in just seconds, he pulls you close and hugs you even with his shirt damp from the sweat that makes you sigh, the scent of the countryside clinging to his skin, and there’s nothing in the world more comforting than sinking in there, into the chest of the man who leans towards you as if you were his most sacred rest.

farmer!Clark who loves you from the very beginning with a patience that even he himself can't understand. No matter how tough the day has been, no matter how many calluses he has on his palms: he will always be the gentle and soft man his parents taught him to be with you. His hands exploring your body with that shy clumsiness that only you know, as if he’s afraid of ruining the only perfect thing he has, and each kiss he leaves on your neck tastes like a promise, a home, something he wants to keep forever.

There are even nights filled with that urgency for you that he can feel coursing through his veins, and still, even in the depths of his despair, there's sweetness. He lifts you in his arms as if you were the lightest feather in existence, presses you against the wall, and even though the rhythm is intense and your breath is breaking, Clark doesn’t stop looking at you with those loving eyes that you love to recognize, he never stops seeking your gaze to make sure you’re with him in every thrust, and his pleasure always comes with that devotion that makes everything feel bigger, more real, and more devoted.

farmer!Clark who is always sweating though it wasn’t unpleasant, and why wouldn’t he be? He was always busy doing the work that needed to be done. You didn't complain anyway, that sticky sweat from the field, soaking his white shirt while he moves hay or fixes the fence that Krypto destroyed. And in the afternoon, when you're under him, you catch a whiff of his neck, drawing you in with his scent.

farmer!Clark who is one of those men who seems made of the sun itself, which burns his skin as he bends over the field, and you watch him from the home you both share as if it’s a secret that only you and he should know. And when he comes to you, dragging his calloused hands across your neck, he holds you as if you’re more necessary than water. He doesn’t try to be gentle while all he thinks about is asking you for what’s already his.

farmer!Clark who's brutally big and full of huge hands and arms that lift you up like you weigh nothing. He is fascinated by seeing how your body struggles to accommodate it inside you.

"Look how you take me, baby, you don't even know how pretty you look when you cry for me".

farmer!Clark who when it comes to fuck isn't always fast, but he is always intense. He opens you up like he has all the time in the world, unhurriedly, knowing that you're never going to get tired of how he handles you because you're always just as desperate as he is. He takes you slowly, until he feels your tears fall against his neck, and he still decides not to stop. he whispers little phrases like prayers that a lady from Smallville would find scandalous.

"Just like that, honey, you take me well, just as if you were born just to keep us warm inside you" and they are those moments when you understand that I would never let you go.

Nights on the farm are heavy, and the Smallville wind isn't something that helps while the cicadas have the job of singing outside. Out of habit on nights like these, Clark drags you into the room and watches you under him while he devours you with an almost animalistic hunger.

farmer!Clark who covers you with kisses that turn into bites, and when you moan too loud, he smiles against your skin, like he wants to keep that sound in his chest. "More, baby… give me more of those beautiful sounds you make…" And you do, he takes you, holds you, and then keeps you in the softness of his embrace that turns out to be hotter than the sun itself.

farmer!Clark who if it were up to him, fucking in the barn would be a daily thing. He loves to bend against the hay bales as the dust sticks to your sweaty skin, and he makes sure you feel it deep. He is not bothered by sounds outside such as cows or crickets, because inside he can only hear your gasps that you think you have under control, and your breathy voice telling him not to stop. Clark takes you in his hands and makes you look down, where he pushes towards you.

"My love, don't worry, I want to hear you. Everyone here except the stars knows you're mine".

You don't know how he does it, but he's tender and brutal, all at the same time. He can fuck you like he's going to break you, he has you with all his might against the barn floor, and then he pulls you to bed and covers you in kisses as if you're the only holy thing in his world, repeating soft words in your ear, like "I love you" or "I'm so sorry honey, you know I can't help it."

farmer!Clark who loves the contrast he creates every time he decides to fuck you, as if it were a sacred and dirty act. Caressing your face tenderly, simulating a miracle and then having you open in his lap, moaning when with his fingers taking you he touches that point to which he is so obsessed, feeling your wetness dragging every shape of his soul. Murmuring your name as if he were saying prayers just by feeling you, and he sinks, his finger making circles on your while he marks you with his body and with his love until you don't know if what you have inside is sex, faith, or a sentence that neither of you would ever want to break.

farmer!Clark who turns him on too much in the domestic, on a long, sunny day where you cook for him, and he just watches you, taking care of him in ways no one has done before and the only way he finds to thank you is by fucking you. 

"Honey, you will always be my home, my woman. God, I know there's nothing sweeter than this."

And after that, he doesn't step away. And he tells you that he doesn't want to do it, he just covers you with his arms as if the whole world could try to tear you away from his side and he was prepared to stop it. He does not stop stroking your hair, whispering your name in his low, broken voice; understanding that for Clark there is nothing more sacred than being able to stay with you in silence.

But the most intimate part of it all isn’t when he loses himself inside you, or when his moans intertwine with yours, but those moments afterward when he closes his eyes and you notice his flushed cheeks as he kisses your forehead once, twice, and three times. As if his tiredness were the least of his worries, and as if nothing in the world could compare to the miracle of having you in his arms.

farmer!Clark who after working all day in the dirt and sun, reddening his cheeks, takes off his baseball cap and flops down on his side of the bed while taking your hand and squeezing it as if he can't imagine a world without you. And even though his body is begging for a break to continue his routine normally, his eyes don't stop because he's searching for yours as if he’s pleading, like the selfish guy he is, for a little piece of you, until he finishes all his tasks and has you all to himself completely.

farmer!Clark who every time you watch him from the door while he cleans the barn, can't help but smile like the most lovesick fool out there. He looks at you with that sweet smile he keeps just for you, and he can't resist giving you a quick, intense kiss, then a wet and desperate one before pulling away for a moment, not wanting to really do that. He breathes in to feel you more deeply, because to him, nothing is more perfect than the way your bodies fit together, imperfect but perfect for each other.

farmer!Clark who's the kind of guy who kneels down on the ground without thinking twice about it; it doesn't even cross his mind how uncomfortable it would be on the rough wood of the barn because the urgency he feels in his skin to have you weighs more than anything he's ever felt in his life. He grabs your legs, spreading your thighs to the point where he can bury his head, making it clear that he doesn’t want any kind of escape, and you don’t even think to deny him what he wants.

As he tends to do so, he doesn't just lick you gently, he sinks right in with his hard, rough tongue soaking you in his saliva. You are agitated by the obscene noises he makes against your pussy letting you know how much he needed to be satisfied, he moans like a hungry animal and the moment you try to push him away because of the intensity and overstimulation, he drags you back with a low growl implying that he is not finished yet while his nose makes circular movements against your clit.

"No, honey... I'll stay here until you give me everything."

A moan creeps down your throat when you feel two quick slaps on your clit, with his wet fingertips tapping just enough for you to feel it, then he kisses her again with the same desperation as before, and he only has to tell you, "Please honey, give me more, you can take it" and his mouth catches you with strong sucking until the only thing he gives you is with breathy moans longing for you to be I let you come.

You feel how your pussy relaxes from his previous intervention, but it doesn't last long because he puts two of his fingers in you without any warning, and pushes deeply and then plays again with his tongue brushing your clit; And it keeps you in that torture that prevents you from coming, tied to that pleasure for until after so much it lets you come against its face. And when you do, he doesn't move away at any time, he swallows, moans and kisses your pussy with a delicacy and love that he only saved for tender moments like those, he looks at you from below with those soft eyes, as if what he just did was holy, and when he sees you trembling because of how much he had you in his mouth, He gently kisses both thighs full of sweat and saliva, asking you in a whisper to apologize and to let him go on because it's never enough for him.

farmer!Clark who after all, always waits for you to relax so he can clean you up. He brings you a towel, then gently strokes your thigh with his shaking hands, kisses your forehead, and whispers apologies that you both know you don't need. It might seem like a small gesture, but it's in that care where you understand that whether messy or tender, brutal or sweet, he will always bring you back to calm

farmer!Clark who loves and hates to fill you with cum so deep inside you that he stays stuck, panting and trembling with his huge body covering yours, and just at that moment more than the pleasure he is used to, what he feels is a fear that crosses his heart. Fear of not feeling something like that again, because he loves you so much and feels so empty without you that you don't magnetize how much he tends to need and adore you. You see it in his eyes when he kisses you deeply and when he says "Good night honey" and then falls asleep inside you.

farmer!Clark who cries unintentionally when he runs too fast, is clearly not shedding tears of pain or suffering, but rather tears of that relief he's way too addicted to. They're tears of that feeling that tightens so much in his chest that he never wants to let it go. And while you hug him and stroke that little tuft of hair that always sticks out from his hairstyle, you realize that under that giant of a man is someone who has always feared wanting so much.

farmer!Clark who rides you on his lap in the old living room armchair, with his work pants still half-pulled on where he forces you to ride him until you can't take it anymore, holds you by the waist and handles you as he pleases, up and down over and over again, helping you sink into it, and when he feels that you are going to cum, he hits your clit with his open palm, full of calluses from working so hard and thus managing to get an orgasm that wets everything. Then he hugs you tightly, with his chest fluttering against your back, murmuring in your ear: "Don't get down yet, my love... don't leave me yet."

farmer!Clark who takes you on your knees in the kitchen, with your face covered by his scent while holding your hair with a clumsiness already practiced to make you feel good and although the gesture is dirty and moans when it comes in your mouth, the only thing he says afterwards is a trembling "Thank you darling, you always know how to take care of me" and thus stay cooing between you.

farmer!Clark who can't help but mark you all over, and he's proud of it; teeth marks on your neck, his fingers digging into your hips like they live there, and his name scraped against your throat like a song. And the best part is that he loves them, the best part of his morning is when he sees the marks he made on you the day before, he gently strokes them and kisses slowly where it hurt.

farmer!Clark who can't take any more of you because he always loses control when you provoke him. If you barely brush his thigh while driving, if you stare at him too long while carrying bags, his shoulders become tense and his cheeks darken with reddish hues. And already unable to stand another of your pranks he has you against the fence of the field, with his hands stained with dirt on your skin, and wanting to fuck you with that great contained fury as punishment for waking him up like this.

farmer!Clark who never settles for a single orgasm, whenever he can, fucks you in the stable, in the kitchen, on the floor of the room, in the doorway next to the white fence, and every time you think you can't take it anymore, he opens your legs again. He becomes obsessed with making you so many times that you end up crying and the best thing is that he doesn't stop even when he's inside: he keeps playing with your clitoris, hitting it with your fingertips, forcing you to come on top of him again. And as he does so, he whispers in a broken voice: "Until I can't take it anymore love, until you give me everything."

farmer!Clark who at the end of each day lies down with you in silence, and even though the world could be burning or his calls from The Justice League might disturb him, all he does is wrap you in his huge body, breathe deeply against your neck, and murmur in a husky voice "Always, you will always be my home" and there, in that moment, you know there's no turning back, you belong to him as much as he belongs to you.

[reidslovely]

“A New Rider Takes the Stadium by Storm: Clark Kent aka Superman.”

or in other words…a au where clark kent is a rodeo cowboy.

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they're so cute your honor 🤧❤️

[reidslovely]

Clark x

[reidslovely]

I FINALLY WATCHED SUPERMAN AND OH MY GOD I'm such a crybaby :')

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[reidslovely]

imagining clark kent thots

[reidslovely]

omg omg do you know that tiktok trend where girlfriends wipe off their boyfriend's kisses as like a joke/prank?? Imagine that with Clark Kent, omg he's so babygirl 😭😔

Where love lands

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I couldn't help myself and wrote two versions bc I kept thinking about the scene, one not metioning tiktok and the other mentioning the trend. Here are both because I couldn't choose! Genre: Fluff

No spoilers for the film!

Total word count: 1.3k (V1 0.4k and V2 0.9k)

Version 1 (0.4k)

You were leaning against the kitchen counter when he walked in, glasses slightly fogged from the change in temperature, tie askew, coffee in hand and a grin that could light up Gotham.

"Morning, sweetheart," he said, leaning in and planting a warm kiss to your cheek before walking past you to grab a second mug.

You waited two beats, just long enough for him to feel safe. Then, with exaggerated flair, you reached up… and wiped the kiss off with the back of your hand.

Clark froze mid-pour and you could feel his confusion like a change in air pressure.

“…Did…did I miss?” he asked, already glancing down at his lips like maybe he somehow did it wrong. “Was that– was it scratchy? I shaved last night, I swear–"

You covered your mouth to hide your smile, but it was too late for him as his eyes already widened with full, horrified realization.

“Did you wipe it off?” he asked, aghast, like you’d just thrown the sun into a dumpster. “You wiped off my kiss?”

You turned dramatically away. “Sorry, I’m trying to keep my skin clean. Skincare is getting ridiculously expensive.”

“My kiss is clean! That’s all the skincare you need.” he insisted, voice cracking just a little as he stepped closer, looking tragically betrayed. “I’m basically cruelty-free! I–I’ve literally flown through fire for you and you’re worried about a little cheek grease?!”

You shrugged. “Guess I’m just not into PDA anymore.”

“Inside our house?…Do we have a roommate I don't know about? Wh–you just…yesterday morning you made me kiss you goodbye on Krypto’s forehead too.”

“Did I?” you asked, all innocence.

Clark looked like you’d personally sucker-punched his soft farmboy heart. He set the coffee pot down gently, like it might break under the weight of his sorrow.

He exhaled slowly before speaking. “Do you want me to leave? Because if that’s what this is about–”

You burst into laughter, grabbing his shirt and tugging him back toward you. “No! No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you’re too cute…come here.”

Except now he was pouting. Clark Kent, the Man of Steel, pouting like a kicked puppy. “I can’t believe you wiped it off. My love…gone, like chalk dust.”

“I was kidding!” you giggled, pressing kisses across his face. “See? I love your kisses.”

“You better,” he muttered, melting into your hands anyway, arms sliding around your waist. “You should be grateful I didn’t laser-eye the whole sink out of heartbreak.”

“Oh yeah?” You snorted. “Is that what they call emotional maturity on Krypton?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, finally grinning. “On Krypton we hold dramatic grudges and float away slowly while sad orchestras play.”

You nuzzled into his neck muttering more half-giggled apologies while he kissed the crown of your head repeatedly and of course, you didn’t wipe them off this time.

Version 2 (0.9k)

The apartment smelled like cinnamon and newsprint.

You were in the kitchen, half-focused on your cereal, swaying a little to the oldies station humming through the speakers when the front bathroom door creaked open, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone larger than life tiptoeing through the space like he didn’t weigh 230 pounds of muscle and space metal.

“Hey, baby,” Clark’s voice came, low and sleepy. His tie was undone, shirt collar open and hair still damp from a too-fast shower he must’ve taken after fighting crime before breakfast. “Didn’t expect you to be up.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, soft and sweet before continuing to the cabinet to grab his favorite mug. The one with a print of Kansas cornfields on it, chipped on the rim but he refused to let you throw it out.

You gave him two seconds, two full seconds of peace, before you slowly and dramatically, reached up… and wiped the kiss off your cheek with the back of your hand.

Dead silence followed and Clark paused mid-reach. “Did you just…?” He turned, blinking. “Was that...Did you wipe off my kiss?”

You gave a casual shrug, barely glancing at him. “Just trying to keep my skin clean.”

He stared at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, brow furrowing like you’d just slapped a baby bird. “But–but I’m clean.”

“Mhm...I’m sure you are but–”

“I brushed my teeth! And I used mouthwash. You see me floss every morning!”

You turned away with a hum, taking a sip of your coffee like this was just another Thursday. Clark took one slow, wounded step toward you. “I can’t believe this. You wiped it off… My love, my affection…just gone, tossed out like garbage.”

“I didn’t toss it,” you said sweetly. “Just…recycled it.”

“Don’t joke,” he said, horrified. “Do you want me to leave? Is that it? Is it because I crushed you while cuddling last night? Because if it is, I can sleep on the floor–”

You finally looked at him. His lips were pressed tight, brows pinched and his eyes were full of puppy-dog devastation. He looked like a man who had just watched a romantic movie get spoiled mid-airplane ride.

You cracked. “No! Clark, I was joking! I’m so sorry…well, you did crush me a little but you should know by now that you’re my favorite weighted blanket.” You laughed, grabbing his shirt to pull him close. “Gosh, I feel terrible! You look like I spit on your cape.”

“It felt like you did,” he muttered, arms looping slowly around your waist even as he pouted. “Do you know how many people wish they could get kissed by Superman?”

“I didn’t wipe off Superman’s kiss. I wiped off Clark Kent’s,” you teased.

“Oh great…much better. Kick the civilian while he’s down.” He gave an over-exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back like he was praying to the ceiling. “First I’m rejected, now I’m slandered.”

You gently grabbed both sides of his face, tilting his head down so you could kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m six foot four and I cry while watching old Christmas movies, let me live.”

You buried your face in his chest, still giggling apologies. 

He kissed the top of your head again softly and this time, you let it stay but your brain was already turning.

Later that night, after dinner, a movie and a cuddle-heavy couch session, you tested it again. 

This time mid-forehead kiss as he reached across you for the remote.

You wiped it off in slow motion.

Clark gasped. “Again?!”

“It’s unnecessary exfoliation. I have sensitive skin!” you said, barely holding back a grin.

He narrowed his eyes. “You have a sensitive boyfriend too! What did he do to deserve this?”

You laughed so hard you could barely breathe. “It’s a trend, baby! It’s going viral on TikTok. I promise, you did nothing wrong.”

He blinked, confused. “…Why would anyone do that? What’s the joke? You’re rejecting love!”

Your body shook with laughter, so hard you nearly slid off the couch. He caught you mid-topple, strong hands grabbing your waist and gently placing you back on it. You barely had time to recover before he leaned in, bracing himself with one arm and settling his weight just enough to trap you beneath him. 

His glasses were askew and his expression caught somewhere between a pout and a grin as he stared you down, breathless. His lips twitched.

“This is emotional terrorism,” he said, voice low and faux serious. “You’re terrorizing me.”

“Oh, c’mon Smallville.” You grinned.

“I’ve fought aliens with less cruelty,” he declared. Then, in a whisper, with his forehead dramatically on your chest he added, “My heart…”

You chuckled before leaning down and kissing the top of his head with a loud ‘mwah!’. “You’re so babygirl.”

“Don’t weaponize that word against me,” he grumbled, now looking into your eyes.

“I’d never,” you promised, grinning up at him.

He lifted your hand and kissed the knuckles, eyes still vaguely wounded but soft with forgiveness. “I’ll remember this.”

“Oh no,” you gasped. “What’re you gonna do? Kiss me so many times I can’t wipe them all away?”

His smile turned smug, dangerously smug. “Exactly.”

And of course he did, peppering your face with relentless, exaggerated kisses until you squealed and squirmed beneath him, the apartment ringing with your laughter, his muffled chuckles and the kind of love that felt both ridiculous and endlessly real.

[reidslovely]

KISS CAM

pairing・❥・clark kent x fem! reader word count・❥・1.7k wordssummary・❥・clark drags you and the daily planet gang to a metropolis monarchs game; what happens when the stadium cam falls on you and the kryptonian you're secretly in love with? cw・❥・no superman (2025) spoilers, more plot than dialogue lol, inaccurate baseball and journalism knowledge, swearing, slight blasphemy (?), alcohol, co-workers/friends who are so madly in love, kissing a/n・❥・i'm accepting requests so send in any asks! letterboxd

"these seats are amazing clark, what strings did you pull to get them?" lois queried, as she followed jimmy with a tray of four beers, glancing across the stadium.

it was the end of a beautiful day in the city of tomorrow, as the sun began to dip below the skyline, a gorgeous hue of orange, pink and purple demanded everyone's attention.

the seats were the best in the house - having a view of the entire stadium, as well as the players who were warming up. lois was itching to ask for post-game interview with pitcher frankie 'hudson' jones, who was having an all-time season and gunning for all-star MVP.

jimmy snickered, "yeah clark, enlighten us on how you got us into a skybox on a journalist's pittance?", the redhead threw popcorn in his mouth and munched on it quietly, standing against the railing. he waved to a group of attractive girls, winking at them as they cooed in affection. leave it to jimmy to entice women with the snap of his fingers, lois rolled her eyes and shoved him back into the conversation.

clark, as shy as ever, explained that superman had gifted him the tickets, a thank you for the deep bond they had shared over the past two years. the journalist decided no other than to invite his closest friends to bask in the experience.

well, two friends and the girl he was madly in love with.

clark pushed his glasses up his nose, hoping that they would buy his lie.

"how the hell do you always pull this off, clark? if anything, i'd think superman was in love with you," lois mused as she finished off her cotton candy, albeit unsuspecting of clark's identity, as she studied the starting lineup on her phone.

clark gazed over at you, perched so closely to his chest that he could feel the heat waves radiating off your body. you gently smirked at him, knowing the truth, looking back at him with the knowledge of a heavy secret twinkling in your eye.

"well thats one way to put it," you chuckled along with the kryptonian, "maybe superman just really likes human hospitality!"

it had been months since clark came flying over to your apartment, beaten and bloodied after his battle with lobo, a lucrative mercenary who destroyed half of the southwestern subway route - much to your annoyance.

you had pulled the door open, faltering as you gaped at clark. you saw his broad chest that you so desperately wanted to touch, his dark corkscrew curls that you hopelessly wanted to tug, his pretty pink lips that were plump and soft and begging for sweat kisses. lust aside, you noticed clark wasn't wearing his usual disheveled suit that he constantly appeared with at the daily planet. the one perry, your boss, always sighed at.

looking down, you gasped at the large 's' that the man of steel wore on his chest with pride. which clark was...wearing?

months ago, it had dawned on you that clark kent was superman. your quiet, gorgeous clark was superman. and also bleeding out by your doorway.

you ushered him into your space as he pleaded with all the strength he could muster, swearing you to secrecy as he held your face in his large hands, stroking your cheeks with urgency.

ever since that night, it was as if the pair of you had grown closer. when duty called and he leapt in a rush from his desk you nodded in a silent exchange of understanding. when he came to your door, injured and on the brink of collapse, you were always there to bring him back to life with your touch.

and, honestly, it pained him. clark knew the danger of inviting you in his secret world, however his secret life weighed down less on his heart than the undisclosed love he had for you.

clark adored you.

it ranged from him remembering your drink order when you had rushed to the office in a frenzy, to carrying you over to your bed when you dozed off early during film night. he adored brushing your pieces off hair off your head and falling in love with the way your lashes gently kissed your eyelids. even buying you your favourite flowers on a friday. he always shrugged his shoulders when you questioned him, "just because."

he was beyond gone for you-

"hellooooooo, nerdtastic one and nerdtastic two! you're missing the opening pitch with all your eye-fucking," jimmy clicked you out of your daze, withdrawing from clark's look as you faced the direction of the pitch. he shook his head and gave lois a smug glance of victory. she peeked at your demeanour and knew you were in deep. "i wonder if superman will show up, i know that guy's got a mean pitch on him. do you think i can add him to my fantasy team?" their conversation returned to background noise as your situation with clark lingered.

you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beat faster than a drum, as you took your beer from lois and sipped at the liquid. you really need to get better at hiding this, you cursed yourself.

as lois and jimmy continued their rushed conversation about frankie jones, the lights began to brighten and the game was in full swing.

in all honesty, baseball wasn't your thing, so you turned to clark, "how's your ma and pa doing? you said a couple weeks back that their harvest was the most successful they've had in years?"

clark beamed at you asking about his loved ones. your ability to make him feel human and not just a hero was what he cherished about you. in his fervour, clark began spilling his parents praises as you listened intently shifting closer in order to hear his every word. unconsciously, your knees bumped together and he intertwined his arm through yours as you clung onto every word.

"ma's thinking about raising a bee hive by one of the west fences, it would save pa trips to the market; what's better than a plethora of organic honey am i right? i'll make sure to bring you home so ma can make you that peach cobbler that you like so much-"

"hold still," you interrupted, grabbing the sides of clark's face and moving to adjust his glasses that had become askew during his ramblings. you couldn't let them slip and have clark's identity be exposed to the entire stadium when he tried so hard to hide it.

you chewed your lip in concentration; he noticed your lip gloss that you were wearing was his favourite. cherry flavour. he was taken back to when you dragged him to the store and made him choose your new combo. in a frantic state he insisted on cherry, after all it made your lips more kissable. and him impossibly aroused.

clark felt like he was on fire. maybe he was.

he blinked twice as you fixed him up right, flashing that million dollar smile that made it seem like you were his kryptonite.

"darn, i wanna kiss you so bad right now," he thought to himself.

always to himself.

you leant back and urged him to continue, your arm now resting on his thigh. he went still and his breath hitched.

your eyebrows knitted in confusion, waving your hands across his face as if it would wake him up from trance.

his head whipped out towards the crowd as suddenly you could hear cheers from all across the stadium, like a thunderous applause.

in unison, your heads whipped up to the giant jumbotron as you could see you and clark reflected on the screen. but not just any screen.

it was the kiss cam.

fuck.

the screen littered you in red hearts, like some romcom that had your heart racing.

"you gotta do it, kent, those are the rules" lois shrugged at the man, egging him along with the rest of the stadium. to her left, jimmy whipped out his phone to film the couple. blackmailing purposes that would come as prime entertainment after the game.

"KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!" the stadium roared at you and clark to fulfill their wish as the chosen ones for tonight's game

you knew you shouldn't have left the house today.

"please may i kiss you?" he posed as his polite, midwestern twang silently begged to have you, despite a crowd of 45,000 people laying witness.

his lips were dangerously close to yours, as you replied with a curt nod, immediately pressing your lips to his in a frenzy. you took advantage of the situation and you two began french kissing as you audience cheered in amazement. lois wolf whistled as clark angled the kiss to explore your mouth deeper, he gently cushioned your head in his large hands; pouring in months, even years, worth of emotions in a flurry of kisses.

he was soft and curious at first, worried if he'd push too far and break you. you on the other, you demanded everything in the kiss, stroking his tongue with yours - branding yourself into his memory as you two began battling to show the other how much love your harboured in your hearts, until he groaned.

clark couldn't hide his desire with his visceral moans. it shocked you. and kinda turned you on

gasping for air you pulled away, as clark chased your lips for more of your sweetness, you felt like you could fly.

"well mary mother of jesus, didn't think you had it in you clarkie boy - let's not turn this into a porno, okay guys? there are children here," you could hear shuffling next to you as jimmy begrudgingly passed a $20 bill to lois, the brunette rejoiced next to him, winking at you.

you huffed in partial annoyance but clark's whispers took over your reality again.

pivoting into his direction, you noticed your cherry gloss tainting all of his mouth, you had marked him. you decided you would spend your entire life thankful for this kiss cam.

"i've wanted to do that for a long time," he croaked as he pressed his forehead against yours, chuckling weakly with triumph.

"yeah?" you teased with growing confidence for the man you loved.

"yeah," he barked with laughter, tipping his head back and shaking his curls in the process.

"god bless superman."

[reidslovely]

❝ papa!clark kent ❞ [1/2]

WARNINGS: fluff, pregnancy/pregnancy complications, mentions of nausea/vomiting, labor/birth, hint of a breeding kink, very minor angst, no use of y/n

A/N: absolutely no idea if this has been done or not! we’re defying gravity some laws of anatomy and biology fs but anything for this man, right? i’m a lot more of a marvel girl than dc so if there’s anything here that’s inaccurate…pretend it isn’t. i’ve got some smut coming soon for this cutie so stay on the lookout ;)

masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are always and greatly appreciated!

clark kent who is wary of you being pregnant in the first place, especially if you’re human. he’s terrified his dna in the baby could harm you. if you were trying to conceive, it would take a lot of convincing. “we don’t have to do this, sweetheart, not if there’s any risk to you.”

clark kent who is speechless when you are pregnant. it’s your own little miracle. he’s still cautious but more elated than anything. he holds you for a long time. neither of you say anything—you just enjoy the moment knowing how beautifully your lives are about to change.

clark kent who is more aware of the pregnancy than you are. he can sense when a wave of morning sickness is about to hit before you even feel it. he’ll have saltines, ginger, a cold compress, water, and a bucket ready to go at your side. “shh, it’s alright, baby,” he rubs your back and holds your hair as it all comes out. “there you go, that’s it. i got you.”

clark kent who holds you close at night just the way you like. plays with your hair as you lay on his chest, his heart beating just under your ear. “you’re already doing so much, and it’s barely the size of a bean.” he’ll have so many of those fun facts, too.

clark kent who loves to see your bump once it starts forming. he’ll rub oil over it every night before bed since you’d complained about stretch marks. “love seeing you like this,” he murmurs against your growing stomach. “all swollen and full of me.” and he definitely loves to call you mama now that it’s fitting. “good morning, mama” and “how you feeling, mama?”

clark kent who talks in kryptonian to the baby through your belly. all you can do is watch with a soft smile as he whispers—and later translates—“now, you be good in there. your mama’s working real hard to take care of you. oh, we can’t wait to meet you. we’re gonna give you everything, just wait.”

clark kent who insists that it’s a girl, even when it’s too early to tell. “she’s gonna have your eyes and my smile.” “she?” “it’s just a hunch.” but he’s already dreaming about holding his little girl in his arms.

clark kent who will drop whatever he’s doing to get whatever you need. craving oranges? he’ll grab some from several different countries just to see which you like best. out of the tahitian body oil you like? he’ll be back in just a minute with a surplus of it. “clark, you didn’t have to go to another continent for peanut butter.” he just shrugs, “you said you wanted crunchy, and the corner store only had smooth.”

clark kent who doesn’t necessarily enjoy your jokes about ‘superman’s harem’…“well, you got me.” he furrows his brow, “what do you mean?” “and so the harem begins. who do you have planned next?” but your voice is dripping with lighthearted sarcasm, he only frowns. “that’s hilarious.”

clark kent who can’t bear to see you in pain. he was right to be worried about his kryptonian genes…when the baby kicks, it’s impossible to hide how much it hurts. and he’s instantly at your side, soothing it away. “she’s strong. just like you,” he smiles and presses his ear to your belly. uses his x-ray vision to check for internal bruising. “i’ll have to teach her to control it, just like i learned.”

clark kent who watches your body adapt to carrying his child and taking on some of his abilities (just a few) through the baby. you notice your senses are enhanced—your sight and hearing are better than normal and you start having almost prophetic dreams. “i think the bank’s gonna be closed tomorrow.” “why’s that, honey?” “not sure.”

clark kent who is more scared than you are once labor begins. he senses it too before you feel it. “your breathing changed.” he says while gathering everything for STAR labs, not the hospital. he’s calm on the outside, but on the inside, he’s a panicking, nervous wreck.

clark kent who refuses to leave your side once the contractions begin. he rubs your hand and insists you get an epidural. “it won’t numb all the pain, but it’ll be better than nothing, baby.” he x-rays periodically to check in to monitor the dilation and the baby’s position. “how is it?” you ask, trying to sound composed. “still a little more, hon. you’re doing amazing.”

clark kent who feels his heart twist each time you scream out in pain. naturally, complications arise mid-labor and there isn’t much to do besides wait. “she’s strong, i can feel it.” he wipes the sweat from your forehead. “but you’re stronger.” he’d do anything in the world to take this pain from you.

clark kent who breaks when you begin to push. he’s on his knees beside you now, as close as you’ll have him. you grip his hand and he winces—not because it hurts, but because you’re the one who’s hurting. “you’re doing it. you’re right there, baby.” tears stream down his face. he can’t block out your screams. “come on, sweetheart, one more push. just one more.”

clark kent who cuts the umbilical cord himself after you give your last push and a cry echoes through the room. his hands are shaking as they wrap the little baby up. he looks at you, tiredly but in awe. “it’s a girl.”

clark kent who lets you hold her before he does. puts her against your bare chest and watches the agony on your face disappear as you smile. he can’t make out what you mumble down to her, your voice slurred and exhausted. when they take the baby, he presses his forehead to yours, “i love you more than anything. i’m so proud of you, so so proud.”

clark kent who lets you sleep as long as you need to after. and while you do, he sits by the window with his little girl in his arms. she’s swaddled in a hospital blanket, eyes squeezed shut. “aren’t you perfect?” she smiles at his voice, having heard it for the past nine months through your stomach. “of course, you are. you’re just like your mama. we’ll give you the whole world and more.”

clark kent who thinks about his parents while he cradles his own daughter. his mother and father who sent him to earth. despite their true intentions, he loves them—they’re the reason he has you. he thinks of his ma and pa, who are already on their way, for raising him to be the man he is.

tags: @kentblvd @inbred-eater @sailor-moon-simp

© faestunna 2025.

[reidslovely]

DAVID CORENSWET Behind the scenes of Superman (2025)

[reidslovely]

David Corenswet for GQ photographed by Noua Unu

[reidslovely]

made of steel, heart of gold ── clark kent .✦

content: established relationship, rough sex, choking, use of safeword (non-traumatic), immediate aftercare, Clark being horrified that he scared you (he didn’t), soft dom!Clark with a huge heart, comfort, giggles during aftercare, crying-but-not-too-much energy.

-

You were already cockdrunk when it happened.

Arched beneath him, his hips grinding into you with a rhythm that made the whole bed creak. Your thighs trembled around his waist, and his voice—god, his voice—was nothing but breathless filth in your ear:

“So fuckin’ tight for me… made to take me, baby…”

His hand slid up your chest. Over your neck. Fingers curling—not tight, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You loved when he choked you. You’d told him so, more than once. And Clark was always so careful. He was careful with everything.

But this time?

This time, he was a little too lost in it.

The pressure increased—still not painful, but strong. His eyes were dark, jaw tight, and you felt your vision swim for just a second too long.

You tapped his wrist and gasped, “Red.”

His whole body froze.

Like someone had snapped him out of a trance.

His hand vanished from your throat instantly. He pulled out and back like he’d been burned, eyes wide with panic.

“Shit—baby, are you okay? I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—fuck, I—”

You sat up slowly, chest heaving, and looked at the literal god of a man in front of you—naked, flushed, hair wild, and now lowkey on the verge of tears.

“Clark,” you whispered.

He was already reaching for a blanket, for your robe, looking so wrecked with guilt. “I hurt you. I fucking knew I should’ve paid more attention—your pulse—your eyes—shit—”

“Clark.”

“I got caught up—I didn’t mean—”

“CLARK.”

You burst out laughing.

He blinked.

“I’m fine,” you said through your giggles, grabbing his face in both hands. “Oh my god. Baby. You’re gonna cry. I was fine. I just got a little dizzy, so I called it. You stopped instantly. You’re perfect.”

His eyes flickered over your face, breath shaky. “You’re really okay?”

You kissed his nose. “I loved it. I love you. You didn’t hurt me. You just got... enthusiastic.”

He let out a strangled breath, still hovering like he was afraid you’d break. You gently guided him back onto the bed, crawling into his lap.

“Baby,” you cooed, wrapping his arms around you, “if you ever need proof you’re not a monster, just remember: you almost cried because you choked me too well.”

That finally made him snort. Just a little.

You leaned in. “Now. Are you gonna snuggle me and apologize with forehead kisses? Or do I have to beg?”

He was already pressing his lips to your temple, pulling you into the safest, warmest hug on Earth.

“You scare me sometimes,” he whispered. “But I love you so fucking much.”

“I know,” you smiled, cheek against his chest. “And I love making Superman panic a little.”

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.