strawbshrtcks

[strawbshrtcks]

dilf clarke kent smut

dilf!clark kent

cw: wife!reader + husband!clark, dirty talk, slight overstim, daddy kink (if that's not your thing please click off or simply overlook it), slight breeding kink, prone boneeee

mdni/nobody under 17 yadayada blah blah or do i can't control what you do and consume + i barely check who interacts with me anyway

clark moves quietly through the hallway, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he shuts the kids’ door gently behind him. bedtime took longer than usual. something about missing water cups and "but i saw a monster in closet!" (that was actually just the clothes that you had told them to pick up and fold for days balled up in a chair.) and "dad, what's a mortgage?" — and plenty of other things he doesn't fully remember now, not when he steps into the bedroom and sees you like that.

laying across the bed in that short little silk nightdress, back to him. the light from the hallway glowing soft against the curve of your hips and that subtle dip in your spine.

he swallows.

“you tryna kill me?” his voice comes low, hoarse. tired, but touched with something darker now. something pulled taut.

you smile slow, not even looking over your shoulder. “got any more energy for me, or should i go to bed by myself tonight?”

he’s on you in seconds.

you gasp as his weight presses into the bed, and then onto your back. his body covers yours with that lazy strength he always has— like he’s not trying but still manages to take you apart.

“baby…” he murmurs, voice deep in your ear. “you sayin’ that while you look like this? you’re lucky i didn’t fuck you right there in the hallway.”

you wriggle your ass back against him and feel him already getting hard. slow and heavy between your thighs.

“then why don’t you?” you whisper. “you always say you wanna keep me full, right?”

his groan catches in his chest. you feel it rumble against your back. his hand presses into the dip of your spine, holding you in place like you’re fragile. like he’s about to break you.

“stay just like this,” he mutters, flipping up the hem of your dress, baring your soft, plump ass to the cool air. his fingers stroke over your thighs, up between them to your hole, brushing slick.

“fuck, honey,” he says, almost like it hurts. “you’re already soaked. all this for me?”

“always for you, daddy” you whimper.

he doesn’t make you wait. he pulls his leaking cock out of his sweats, giving himself a few slow strokes before pushing in slow— one deep stroke that stretches you wide as your breath hitches and you mush your cheek deeper into the pillow.

"so fuckin' warm," he groan. "golly, this pussy. she missed me, huh?"

his hips roll, deep and slow at first. your breath stutters with every thrust, your legs spreading wider subconsciously. he pushes one hand under your belly, lifts your hips just slightly, and the angle has you sobbing.

“that’s it, baby,” he rasps. “take it. take all of it for me.”

you moan out, drool leaking from the corner of your lips. "mmmmm i'm takin it daddy, 'm takin itt."

his cock drags against your walls so perfectly, the friction turning your brain to mush. he presses his palm between your shoulder blades, anchoring you, keeping you folded down under him as he rocks his hips harder— deeper.

his other hand snakes around your waist, fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing your clit slow and steady. he knows your body all too well by now.

“look at you,” he breathes. “this little dress, that pretty ass — fuck, i come back from tuckin’ the kids in and you’re laid out beggin’ for it.”

you whine into the pillow, thoughts crumbling. "i wasn't begging."

“you are now,” he smirks, dragging his cock all the way out before slamming it back in.

you cry out. your legs shake, as you twist the sheets in your fists.

he leans over you again, chest to your back, mouth pressed to your ear. “c’mon, sweetheart. lemme hear it. tell me how good it feels.”

“feels so good, clark,” you choke out. “so deep, i— i mmm, can’t think daddyy.”

“don’t need to think, baby,” he whispers. “just gotta cum for me, cream all over me sweetheart.”

his thrusts become erratic, the repeated plap-plap-plap! of his hips slapping against your ass echoing around the room, your soaked cunt squeezing him and squelching with every thrust.

“gonna fill you up so good,” he groans. “fuck this pussy full of my cum, just like you wanted. that what you needed, right baby? wanna be full with my babies again, hm?”

“yesyesyesyes, clark, please!” you sob, your voice breaking. "fill up my pussy, i wan' it s'bad!"

he lets out a small moan against the skin of your neck, his cock beginning to twitch inside you. “i got you,” he pants. “cum with me. wanna feel you let go around me when i cum, baby. please.”

you come apart in his hands, legs trembling and back arched. your cunt is milking him in desperate, pulsing waves. he presses his mouth to your shoulder as he cums with a low, broken moan— spilling hot white inside you, grinding it deep with soft thrusts as you both fall apart.

he slumps his weight over you, but not too much. one arm circles your waist as the other readjusts your satin bonnet on your damp forehead.

you sigh, dazed and fucked out.

“still tired?” you mumble.

he laughs, breathless and kisses your shoulder.

“not even a little.”

© missmookie est. 2025

[strawbshrtcks]

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - p in v, unprotected sex, hint of a size kink, hint of a breeding kink, creampie, soft dirty talk

a/n: david!superman makes brain go brr

CLARK KENT is an array of colours, a beautiful palette of different tones that make him the man he is. Red and blue represent Superman, the legacy he's built for himself. Legacy of doing good, of being said good. Legacy of doing what's right even when it makes you stick out, of being a beacon of hope all across the globe to both children and adults alike. Of laying your own path, of having someone behind you that'll support you when the bricks get too heavy and being that someone yourself when life has been too unnecessarily cruel.

His eyes, a softer, but no less vibrant blue, represent his soul, which doesn't differ much from the reputation he's built for himself. But the Clark Kent-ness bleeds through if you gaze into his eyes for too long, the Smallville manners and nerdy interests, the too big body and fumbling hands and the way the tips of his ears flush red whenever he's embarrassed.

The pink which currently dusts his cheeks and chest and the flushed tip of his cock is a colour that belongs to you and you only. It represents the utter devotion he feels towards you, it represents all the love and affection he needs to keep contained in himself daily. He never thought he'd say it, but the feelings he feels for you are too big for his body, and sometimes he feels like the weight of everything is enough to make him cry.

He's got you trapped under him, your ankles resting on his wide shoulders as he keeps folding you more and more with every desperate thrust, his cock pistoning in and out of your soaked, weeping cunt. Your thighs are slick with the pearlescent mix of both your wetness and his precum, and every time his pelvis slaps against yours, it sticks to his skin, thin, sticky strings connecting the both of you when he pulls away.

His fingers are wrapped around one of your leg, fingertips digging harshly into your skin, and you know it'll leave a mark. He'll feel guilty, and it'll take an orgasm to coax him out of that mindset, to make him realise you find it so incredibly arousing whenever he marks you, intentionally or not. His cheeks, still flushed in that light pink shade, are glistening under the low light of your shared bedroom, occasional tear slipping from the baby blues you love so much. Clark Kent never considered himself a crybaby, but it seems your pussy is hellbent on proving him otherwise by the way she sucks him in and doesn't want to let him go.

"So- so good, baby, fuck— love it, love this, love you."

He sounds pathetic in the way he hiccups, words getting stuck in his throat. Every thrust pulls a needy, choked up whimper from him, and he knows his throat is gonna be raw when he finally finishes with you. His head turns, and his plush lips desperately press against the slender curve of your ankle. Before you can blink, properly register the small show of affection, sharp canines flash and pain blooms across your skin, which in return coaxes a ragged, filthy moan from the depths of your own raw throat. In and out, in and out, and the coil in your belly tightens.

"M'close." You whimper, trembling hands reaching for his. He notices, of course he does, and his fingers slot inbetween yours, callouses rough against your skin. "Please, Clark. Wan' you to come in me, fuck— C'mon, honey."

He whines and nods, a stray curl falling to his forehead, sticking to his skin as perspiration beads upon his brow. Your word is like gospel to him, like a softly uttered command that he'd rather die than not fulfil. He picks up the pace, slamming so deep into your pretty cunt you see stars behind your lids. His tip kisses your cervix, a harsh contrast to the gentle way he holds you, even when it feels like he's arranging your insides.

"So pretty. So pretty when full of me, honey. Look at you." He breathes, eyes falling to the way your stomach bulges every time he presses in. He's mesmerised by the stretch of your skin, by the way your body makes room to accommodate him. "Can it fit? When I come? So tight, baby, don't think so."

Your back arches off the bed with a quiet sob, and you know you're only a few more thrusts away from coming. One, twice, and with the third thrust, the third time the mushroom shaped tip of his cock catches on that spongy spot inside you, you come with a silent cry, body tensing under him. He fucks you through it, ever the gentleman, and before you know it, strings of sticky, pearlescent whiteness paint your insides. He might be a man, but the copious amounts of come he pumps into you is wholeheartedly Kryptonian.

Your thighs tremble when he finally pulls out, collapsing into a heap of Clark besides you. Sticky arms curl around bodies, and you're a tangled mess of limbs before you can blink. You reach down, lips pressing a soft kiss on his temple, and you taste sweat and salt on your tongue. His hand reaches down, two fingers gently pushing into your worn out cunt.

A tired mumble falls from his lips, one you're not sure he meant to vocalise, but which makes your pussy clench tiredly around the thick digits stuffed into you.

"Jus' makin' sure it sticks."

[strawbshrtcks]

ᯓ★ MINORS DNI 18+

you and your pet names for SCOTT MILLER… “hey, killer.” you tease, greeting him with that specific glint in your eye. he returns the glance, pausing before he responds as that panty-melting dimpled grin stretches onto his lips. flirtatiously, he smacks his gum like he’s biting at you, its subtle, and it makes your hair stand on end as if you’re some kind of frilled up bird. when you come up behind him with intent to let him know your presence before his size mows you down, your hands latch onto his waist, guiding him to the side as you pass him, “excuse me there, big guy.” you drawl. you can feel his abdomen tense under your touch, flexed in surprised as he registers the inappropriate area you’re now inhabiting publicly. he’d never admit it, but you know he loves when you point out how large he is especially compared to you. innocently you release him so you can “work on” whatever’s at this table you moved him to get to. his gaze burns into you, you can feel his breath fan your neck as he looms over you. this is one of those times where he can’t actually bring himself to tell you that he’s got a size kink, but his body language yaps all about it. and finally, your personal favorite term of endearment for him… “easy, tiger.” turns him into some kind of crazed animal. at first he was kissing on your neck romantically, a well-placed suck and a rare scraping of his teeth. his hands on your hips were polite, drawing you into him at your own pace. as soon as you call him that, however, suddenly all bets are off. he touches you like he’s hungry. you’re pulled into him so you can’t breathe. your eyes roll into the back of your head as you hiss through your teeth when he bites down on you. when he pins you to the wall it doesn’t end in just a steamy make-out session, he goes all the way. something about telling him to slow down makes him wanna fuck you against the wall until you can’t walk without wobbling.

[strawbshrtcks]

ℬeing caught by the paparazzi whilst you and jack have steamy car sex right after the oscar’s……

cw .ᐟ 18+ mdni. fingers in mouth’s yayyyy!!! naked dry humping (?). penetrative sex. slight nipple play. risk of being caught. creampie. jack is pussy drunk. (let me know if i’ve missed anything :p)

acknowledgements .ᐟ gif creds: @ainasluv

the shiny new rock on your finger shone beautifully under the dazzling lights in the theatre, your cheeks hurting with how much you’d been smiling since jack had popped the question.

while he didn’t win the oscar, he got the real prize when you said yes, your shriek of excitement making him all the more happier as he spun you around in his arms, lovingly kissing you before setting you back down onto the floor.

your heeled feet clacked against the flooring as he rushed you out, giggles making your chest vibrate as you snuck out some back door of the theatre to evade the pushy paparazzi, like two teenagers afraid to be caught.

“we should probably stay ya’know,” you smiled, looking back over your shoulder at the closing swing door, the streetlight above you and jack shining down onto you both, the scene like something out of a movie.

“they’ll be fine without us baby, we can sneak away for a bit no?” he hummed, those dashing dimples of his that first drew you in showing prominently, making your knees buckle, your feet already moving after his before your mind could catch up.

he held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, wiggling his brows in the dorky manner you’ve grown accustomed to, only sparking an even wider smile to grace your features as you slid into the backseat, jack following right after, closing the door behind himself.

“jack…” you finally spoke, batting your lashes as you watched him, your cheeks warming at the manner in which his eyes traced your facial features, the love in his gaze evident, but the raw need he had for you hard to ignore too.

“mhm honey?” he clears his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he leans his head onto his hand, propped up by his elbow.

“what are we doing here?” you smiled, whispering in response, your pupils moving from side to side, almost as if to check if anyone was around.

“can’t a guy want some alone time with his soon to be wife?” he charmingly says, causing you to roll your eyes, biting back a smile as your hands rest in your lap, the metal of the band of your engagement ring cool against your skin, the chill making you smile to yourself.

“god you’re beautiful baby, how on earth did a fella like me get so lucky?” he mumbles, swiftly reaching forward in the limited space of the backseat, his large hand wrapping around your waist to tug you into his lap, your polka dot adorned designer piece all fluffed out around you as you sat in your dear lover’s lap.

you bit back a giggle at his sugar talking; that damned tongue of his. “just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself now could you?” you hummed, bottom lip wedged between your pearly whites, your manicured hands sliding up his suit adorned shoulders, lazily tugging his suit jacket off, moving your hands right to the nape of his neck, running them through his slick backed hair, that little stubborn curl that always flopped down onto his forehead making you hum in content.

“damn right i couldn’t,” he laughs, sliding his one hand from your waist up to jaw, cupping your chin softly before pressing his lips to yours, your mouths moving languidly against one another’s, his hand that was still settled on your waist tugging you closer, the tent in his slacks pressing all hot and needy against your own centre, his incredible size already reducing your mind to a mess.

the kiss grew desperate quickly, his tongue running across your bottom lip to ask for permission, passionately frenching as soon as you parted your lips, allowing him to claim your hot, wet mouth with his.

“mhm, you think it’s a-a good idea to have sex here baby?” you breathily spoke between kisses, his hand on your waist sliding to the hem of your dress, his calloused hands sliding across the supple skin of your thigh right up to your hip, using his leverage to tug you back and forth across his bulge, your speech broken as your mind got all fuzzy.

he continued to kiss you with a hunger you haven’t quite seen before, whimpering, fucking whimpering into your mouth as you began to roll your hips on your own accord, “you kiddin’? honey it’s a horrible idea but i couldn’t give a rats ass right now with how beautiful you look on top o’ me; most gorgeous woman in the world,” he murmured into your lips, moving his kisses down your jaw, taking your earlobe between his teeth before trailing his lips down the hollow of your throat, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses to the unmarked skin there.

you smiled softly as you tilted your head up, eye’s fluttering shut as his hand snuck down the front of your underwear, his index and middle finger slowly but steadily moving over your throbbing clit, down to your already gushing entrance, his kisses faltering against your neck as he pulled away, moaning at how wet you were.

“this all f’me pretty?” he smiled, running his two fingers through your wetness, nodding as you whined when he pulled away, his hand trailing from your underwear and out from under your dress, your arousal glistening on the tips of his fingers, his eyes blown black with lust.

“good god,” he muttered under his breath, tentatively slipping his fingers pass the threshold of his lips, tasting your sweet, sweet essence on his tongue, groaning around his digits.

the image was obscene, something straight out of a porno, your lips parting in response; your handsome fiancée, earnestly groaning and trying to savour your addictive taste on his tongue, his eyes closed in pleasure, his dick hard as fuckin rock!

“god baby you taste amazing, y’gotta-“ he paused, his mind a pussy-drunken mess, breathless as he slipped his saliva coated fingers into your awaiting mouth, your kiss bitten lips immediately wrapping around his lengthy fingers, keeping your sultry eyes on him as you began to bob your head, sucking his digits clean of your arousal and his saliva almost as if you were sucking his heavy cock.

“y’re gonna be death of me y’know that?” he smiled, his tone of voice conveying just how much he needed you, the corners of your lips quirking as you smiled around his digits, sliding them out from between your lips, a string of saliva connecting you to his fingertips, revealing the raunchy behaviour you’d just partook in.

“now i’d usually love to be smothered by that pretty pussy o’yours but i gotta be inside you baby, need to feel you wrapped tight around me before i lose it,” he frantically spoke, moving his hand, the one with the digits that had just been between your plump lips, to settle loosely at the base of your throat, his touch sending goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.

he used the leverage he held by your neck to bring you close once more, capturing your lips in another messy kiss as his other hand worked to undo his slacks, your hands moving to rip the front of his shirt open, buttons flying with the sheer force you held, your hunger for each other conveyed through your frantic movements.

you trailed your nails down his chest, jack hissing against your lips at the feeling, all suave as he continued kissing you like your life depended on it, all whilst swiftly bunching your dress at your waist, revealing your soaked pretty pink underwear.

you whispered against his lips, his unoccupied hand moving your sticky underwear to the side, getting ready to slide his dick between your awaiting folds when you stopped him with a hand to his wrist.

he immediately stopped, on high alert now, pulling back with furrowed brows, “you wanna stop baby? did i do somethin’ wrong?” he eagerly asked, an apology on the tip of his tongue in case he did.

you shook your head, quelling his worries instantly, “no no nothin’s wrong, jus wanna put it in by myself, can i?” you asked cheekily, the windows all fogged up, surely giving you away to anyone that would pass by.

he smirked that cocky smile you loved, raising his brows suggestively as he watched you look down all lovingly at his throbbing cock, “course’ you can—y’don’t gotta ask y’know? it’s yours—can do whatever you want with it,” he hums, already showing signs of being pussy drunk.

you giggled at his word choice, mumbling a soft “dork” under your breath before running your thumb over the angry, red tip, pre-cum oozing from the head, using your thumb to spread it over his entire length, almost drooling at the sight of his veiny cock.

“fuckkk,” he hissed, biting down onto his knuckles as you teased him, lifting your hips slightly to run his tip through your sopping folds, brows creasing at the centre whenever it would catch onto your swollen clit, humming constantly as you essentially humped his needy cock.

“honey please-need to be inside you b’fore he gets all antsy,” he grumbles, pausing your movements as you snorted, “he?” you smiled, tilting your head at his silliness, surging forward to press your lips to his before he could talk again, sinking down onto his dick at the same time.

you both gasped into the kiss, feeling him in your tummy as he bottomed out, eagerly moving your hips once you grew accustomed to his size, something you had to do each time you’d make love to one another. he was a girthy fellow.

“god you feel amazing,” he groaned, his lips just pressed to yours, not even kissing anymore just touching, and that was all he needed, he just needed to be close to his girl whilst your pussy sucked the life out of him, riding him like there was no tomorrow.

his hands moved to tug the front of your dress down, your breasts spilling from the fabric, pulling away from your lips to all but make out with your voluptuous tits, moving from sucking to biting at your hardened nipples, paying the same amount of love and attention to the other one as your hips continued rolling down into his, the faint hair above his manhood deliciously rubbing against your clit.

the car smelt of raw sex and desperation, a sheen of sweat coating your once pristine figures, pinup curls all messy now due to the humidity in the car. the sight was absolutely filthy and you loved it.

jack pathetically whimpered again once you began rolling your hips in a particular fashion, spelling his surname out with each roll of your hips, thighs burning at the effort.

“can’t—fuck baby i ain’t gonna last—can’t wait to make you my wife; gosh mrs. castello you’re killin me here,” he breathed heavily, sneaking his right hand down to play with your swollen little pearl, flicking and pinching the bundle of nerves till you were crying, your tits bouncing with each laboured breath you took in, wanting so badly to scream out his name.

you were already on that sweet uphill journey to your climax when he called you mrs. castello, his hand toying with your needy clit only egging you on further, “jack-mhm so close baby, love you so fuckin’ much,” you cried out, blabbering as you moved your one hand from his shoulder to his jaw, his moans bordering on pornographic, getting louder and louder with his roll of your hips; pressing your index and middle fingers to his lips, jack immediately parting them to allow your digits into his hot, wet mouth, shutting him up effectively as he immediately sucked on your digits, groaning around them as you began bouncing on his cock.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you chased your orgasm with vigour, the combination of jacks lips around your fingers, his dick pummelling into you with each hop of your hips, his own hips thrusting up into you, the thrill of fucking in public—god it made your head all fuzzy, the tips of your ears burning, that coil in your belly snapping as he continued messily playing with your clit.

he moaned around your digits, your pussy squeezing the life out of his dick as your thighs spasmed; “oh god,” you cried, cumming around his thick cock, moaning like a bitch in heat as jack continued thrusting up into you, “shit shit shit baby-“ he stammered out wondering you slipped your fingers from his lips, his thrusts growing sloppy at the feel of your cunt squeezing and releasing him, throbbing around his length, the sensation sending his mind reeling as he came inside you, his fingers still slowly messing with your spent bundle of nerves, his cum spurring out in thick ropes as he fucked it up into you.

“oh my god—“ you breathlessly spoke, your hips still lazily rolling into his, forehead moving to rest against his, smiling as you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“that-that was awesome darlin, god i love you so so much-” he huffed, letting out a “whoo!” which only made you laugh against his lips, shaking your head as he whispered sweet praises to you.

unbeknownst to the both of you, the paps had received a tip from one of the theatre’s staff, the lot of them swarming in the direction of the car in hopes of getting something juicy on the new up and coming star, jack castello.

just as you were coming down from your high, ready to tug your clothes back on, loud voices boomed from outside, flashes going off all around the car. jacks head perked up with an urgency that made him dizzy, the high from his orgasm vanishing in an instant, his eyes going wide, face stark white as he realised what was happening; his first hollywood scandal—being caught having sex with his fiancée in the backseat of his car outside of the oscar’s.

“oh dear,” you huffed, scrunching your face in embarrassment at the predicament you’d caught yourself in, looking over your shoulder at the invasive vultures outside, covering your face as you kept your bare chest facing him, jack’s softening dick still inside.

“god baby i am so screwed,” he groaned, mumbling a “fuck” under his breath as he unconsciously made sure you were covered from prying eyes, blindly reaching for his discarded suit jacket to tug over your shoulders, all the while preparing himself for the scandal that would no doubt be front page news.

come monday, avis would definitely wring his neck out.

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꩜ .ᐟ david corenswet + characters m.list

[strawbshrtcks]

clark loving on his sweetest girl . ݁₊ ⊹ . 🌷

pairing | clark kent x hyperfeminine!reader

cw: [mdni!!] pure smut, fingering, praise, kissing, the reader being a cutie, clark is also a cutie

clark’s fingers moved slowly, like he had all the time in the world—like you weren’t already breathless, legs parted, clinging to the sheets with trembling hands. His body was warm between your knees, his free hand resting gently on your thigh, keeping you open for him.

“so soft,” he murmured, eyes locked on where his fingers slid through your folds. his voice was low, reverent. “y’so wet already… just from a little touching?”

you whimpered, hips tilting up to meet his hand. “claark…”

“i know, sweetheart. i know.” he leaned in, kissed your inner thigh, then slid one thick finger into you, slow and careful.

the slight stretch made you gasp, back arching off the bed. even though you always did this with him, his fingers and hands were just so big it felt new every time. his finger curled inside you, brushing that perfect spot, and you moaned, thighs tensing.

“that’s it,” he whispered, watching you intently. “there you go… just relax. wanna make you feel good”

he worked his finger in and out, dragging it deep and slow, adding a second without warning—your body tightening around him as you cried out, overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the pressure building fast.

his thumb circled your clit in slow, firm strokes, his fingers still working inside you, filling you up with every thrust. his voice stayed soft, coaxing.

“you’ve just had a long day. lemme me take care of you. let go, baby.”

you were panting now, hips moving with him, chasing it. “clark—oh my god—please—”

“come for me,” he murmured, fingers curling just right. “lemme me feel you.”

the orgasm hit hard, sharp and hot, your whole body clenching around him as you came with a shaky cry. clark didn’t stop, easing you through it, pressing kisses to your thighs, murmuring, “that’s my girl… you’re perfect.”

a/n: i’m ovulating and i just had a very nice date with my boyfriend so i had made a fic inspired by it. i will jsut continue releasing blurbs until i am done packing and have travelled to university again

taglist [dm or comment to be added] @jimmys-tiara @dolleciita @budgiefeatherboa @flixpii @redhairedgardenfairy @faestunna

[strawbshrtcks]

IN WHICH, reader is obsessed with david corenswet!clark kent’s dimples…

“what’re you doing, hon?” clark’s eyes are wide as saucers looking down at your crazed eyes zeroed in on his flushed cheeks.

“can’t i admire my boyfriend?” each word is punctuated by a little kiss on either side of his smile, into the little dents that crinkle there whenever he grins, or chuckles, whenever he talks or even when his scowl deepens.

“yes, but,” he chortles at your frenzy of pecks and your relentlessness, “what about me?”

“these cute little things,” you say simply, poking into his little dimples. they deepen when you press into them. he’s suddenly ticklish, you’re both caught in a fit of giggles when he reaches down to attack your own lips while you’re still reaching for his face. you reach out to flay your arms around his neck instead, back on your tip toes.

he’s poking at your cheeks now, and you’re smiling into his prodding fingers.

“what’re you doing now?” you inquire at him with a curious tilt of your head.

“going to make you some dimples to match,” he grins cheekily, kissing and prodding at your smile lines while you try to swat his hands away relentlessly, laughing into the depth of his kisses and rustling your wandering hands through his mussed hair.

[strawbshrtcks]

౨ৎ꣑ৎclark when you get overstimulated౨ৎ꣑ৎ clark kent x fem reader

The fork in your hand scraped your teeth as you drew it out of your mouth and you withheld a wince. It was the fifth time it had happened in the past ten minutes, and you felt as though you were hanging on by a thread. Your ears were already ringing from the steady ripple of background noise attacking from all angles of the restaurant, and you didn't need another of your five senses turning on you.

Clark was watching you. You could feel it, but you kept your eyes on your plate. The food was always good at this place, and you forced yourself to swallow each bite, knowing that on normal days you pined for such a treat. He'd brought you here because he knew you liked it. But the onslaught of little issues throughout your day had stacked up to create a monster you didn't have the energy to slay. Right now you were wishing for your warm bed with cozy blankets, big warm cozy man to snuggle up with too.

Shaking your head, you took another bite, maneuvering your fork out of your mouth without issue this time. Risking a look up, you smiled at Clark, injecting a shot of something sweet and hopefully convincing. Almost over. Almost over.

He reached across the table, sliding his palm under your fingers. Your shoulders dropped when he touched you, your other hand pulling at the neck of your sweater. Clark's eyes were laser focused on you, and you almost felt flattered. A man with powers nearly beyond description, abilities that could and had saved the masses, and he was centering it all on you. His super-senses homed in on your distress, something that was invisible to everyone else. It wasn't that you were bad at hiding it, it was that he was better at seeing you.

Even though the restaurant was loud, you could hear him clearly. "Do you want to go home?" He was only asking to be a gentleman. You knew well by now that his first instinct was to get you out of any situation causing you pain, and it wasn't one he'd ignore when it was this simple.

So you nodded, sat still while he signed the check and thanked the waiter. You weren't leaving behind a full plate by any means- thank goodness you'd managed to consume most of your food before the oceans within overpowered you. Guilt would have given your hurt a crown if you hadn't.

When he stood up, you followed suit, reaching for your coat and purse on your chair. Dutifully, Clark held your bag and coat while you stepped into it, and when you turned to face him, his hands were at your collar, straightening it and thumbing at your cheek. A real little smile turned your lips up, and he kept your purse on his arm as he led you outside, big warm body chasing away the cold.

He didn't bring anything up until you stepped through the door of the apartment, by which time you were feeling miles better. The walk had done you good, movement centering your mind back where you needed it.

When you'd hung your coat and he'd set your purse on the counter, it was like magnets drawing together. You didn't know who'd moved first, but you suspected that perhaps it was a little of both. Either way, you found yourself pressed to his chest, any outside sound muffled by his heartbeat tapping at your ear.

"You okay?" His voice was low, healing something strained from today inside you.

"Better now," you whispered, pulling at the neck of your sweater again.

Clark kissed the top of your head, the frame of his glasses nudging you for just a moment. He fingered your top for a moment. "Baby, is this itchy?"

There was a beat of silence. Then you nodded against his chest, face still hidden there. You felt another kiss in your hair. "C'mon, let's go change."

He turned for a moment when you were pulling your sweater over your head, facing you again holding your favorite sweatshirt. The white one with a cartoon cat wearing a bow and flowers surrounding it. Beautiful! was written in bold pink cursive letters at the top. He'd brought it home one day after work, claiming he saw it in a shop window and thought of you. It warmed your heart to imagine your burly man in the feminine sort of shop that would sell this kind of thing, searching the walls for exactly what he saw walking down the street.

"Oh, honey," he said softly, reaching a finger out to lightly skim over your chest. The area on and below your collarbone was irritated from the itchy fabric of your sweater. "Are you hurting?" You shook your head meekly, pouting as you looked down at yourself. On such a day as this, the direct sensory issue had only caused you more grief.

Clark tossed your sweater into the laundry basket while you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, taking your skirt too when you handed it over. You sat on the bed, flopping onto your back and closing your eyes. When he took one of your feet, you lifted one lid to watch him slide a pair of his boxers up your legs.

Smiling, you sat up and swung your legs back and forth, opening your eyes all the way. Your man of steel had removed his tie, and he was just about done unbuttoning his shirt. Watching Clark get undressed was always a treat, and he found your fascination amusing. Sometimes you watched for the pure sex appeal that seemed to effortlessly radiate off your boyfriend in waves. Tonight it was a comfort, a domestic privilege. He was utterly yours in these moments.

"C'mere." Once he was outfitted in a crewneck and boxers of his own, you reached out for him with arms and legs both, sticking straight out from the bed. He scooped you up completely effortlessly, and you buried your face in his neck. The journey to the couch wasn't more than a few seconds, and when he flopped down, you settled nicely draped over him.

The last of what felt like the attack of the day on you faded away when he began to stroke your hair. Clark held you one-armed while he grabbed a blanket from where it was hanging over the couch edge, fluffing it out and covering your back.

You nuzzled into him, and he shuffled around for a moment before the sound of your favorite movie began to play softly in the background. Clark shifted you to the side so the screen was in your vision, kissing the top of your head and adjusting his arm around your waist. You cuddled into him, murmuring, "I'm sorry about tonight."

He stroked you for a moment, pressing another kiss to your hair. "It's okay, baby." You reached up for him, hand finding his curls. Clark's glasses had slid down his nose, and there was a tiny smudge he must have acquired during the day. He was still as you touched him, letting you do as you needed. "I'm happy with you in every way."

Burying your head in his neck, you sniffled softly. "Oh, my baby," he muttered, rubbing your back softly. "You're okay. It's okay. It was really loud in there, huh?"

"Yeah," you said softly, lower lip trembling.

"Yeah," he repeated quietly. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the movie again. Here in the safety of your home you finally felt ease, recharging for the next time you needed to leave your paradise.

"Just be with me," Clark whispered, rubbing your side. "You're safe."

And with him, you always knew you were.

[strawbshrtcks]

౨ৎ꣑ৎHONEYMOON౨ৎ꣑ৎ

fem reader x clark kent thank you @phantomamour for proofing!! <3 <3 large text version here!

A week ago, you were practically pulling your hair out trying to nail down last-minute wedding details. Now, your brow was scrunched as you deliberated over bikinis spread out over your bed.

The wedding had been a happy, surreal blur. You remembered saying 'I do', and Clark's face when he saw you in your dress for the first time. At the reception, he'd danced with you, holding you to his chest and looking like the happiest man in the world. He was yours, and he had been long before you wore his ring.

You'd spent your wedding night at the airport, curled up under his arm at your gate. Your stomach had been growling like a menace, and he insisted you stay sitting while he went to find you something to eat. Clark had never been more attractive than when he'd appeared in your eyeline like a vision holding a sandwich, a sweet smile on his face.

Now you were in paradise, a rented house by a private beach, just the two of you. He'd hardly let go of you since the plane took off, and now that you were alone, touching had escalated into carrying. Clark was lifting you off your feet every chance he got, planting kisses wherever he could reach.

Just as you'd decided on a pink bikini, Clark wandered in wearing the swim trunks you'd purchased him, with little S's all over them. The website suggested the letter one chose stand for an initial, and you'd thought it was funny when you chose Superman instead of Clark.

He wound his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a loud smack of a kiss to your cheek. "What d'you want for lunch?" While you'd intended to get to the beach early, waking up with his bare chest pressed to your back had changed your plans. It wasn't your fault he was so pretty in the mornings.

"Maybe we can do sandwiches? And some of those plums we got at the market yesterday?"

"'F course." Clark kissed your shoulder, hands lingering even as he walked away. "D'you still have enough of your book left, or should I run out and get you another one?"

"I think I'm alright," you promised. Looking back, you smiled. "I'll be ready in just a moment." He blew a kiss as he exited the room, staring at you until he bumped into a corner when he tried to turn it.

You didn't bother shutting the door while you changed. When you walked into the kitchen, beach bag packed, bikini on, Clark was cutting plums, deliberately slicing them thin. He knew you preferred small pieces. When you set your bag down with a soft thunk, he looked up and dropped the knife back on the cutting board.

After wiping his juice-stained fingers on a nearby towel, Clark reached you in an instant. He wasted no time bending to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting you to eye level. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands sinking into his soft curls. Perfect hair and skin were perks of being Kryptonian, and you envied him to no end. On the bright side, he was very nice to look at.

If his kisses left stars on your skin, you'd be a universe. Clark was nearly breathing you in, nose buried in your neck as he dragged his lips down. "So pretty. Baby, you know you're so pretty?" He pulled back, looking dazed.

Giggling, you touched your lips to his nose. "You like my bikini?"

"Yeah." The word was a whisper, touched with awe. He tilted his head back to study your chest. "Would have married you a long time ago if I knew it meant we got to go to the beach and I get to see you like this all day."

"Your reward for loving me," you giggled as he pressed a kiss to the top of each breast.

"Uh uh. Loving you's the reward." Clark set you on the counter, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. "This is a bonus. Guess I was good."

Laughing, you pulled him back in, resting your head on his shoulder and letting your hair fall over his back. "You're my husband."

"And you're my wife." The word sounded so natural coming out of his mouth. Like, yes, this is something he was meant to say with that loving cadence, or in a protective tone. You were lucky to be the one who unlocked it. "My wife."

Squinting, you pulled back to look at him. "Doesn't that technically mean you own me?"

"Uh uh," he corrected gently, smoothing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Means I get to take care 'f you. Means I'm lucky to have you."

Squealing, you pressed your face back into his chest. "You're not real."

He sounded confused. "It'd sure be sad if I made all this up."

"No-" You framed his face with your hands, smoothing his curls at his ears over and over. He melted into it like a puppy, his eyelids heavy. "You're just so good and sweet and perfect that it feels like a dream."

His eyes were soft. "We'll never wake up." Clark's hands slid to the edges of your bikini bottoms, thumbs rubbing your lower back.

"So we're dead?"

He laughed deep, sending a shot of something up your spine. "I guess."

"Sweetheart?" Clark patted his thigh. "C'mere. Gonna put some sunscreen on you."

You sat on his legs under the umbrella, entertained by his brow scrunch as he carefully applied sunscreen lotion to every inch of you. Even the undersides of your feet got sunscreen. When he was finished, you patted his chest. "Can I do you?"

He didn't need it, and you both knew that. Still, he patted your bottom. "Could you do my face?"

Your fingers were light as you dotted sunscreen on his nose and cheeks, kissing each spot beforehand. He smiled, swaying you back and forth when you were done. "Thank you, baby."

"I wanna go in the ocean," you whispered.

"Yeah?" Clark pressed a flurry of kisses to your chest, not seeming to mind the stickiness of your sunscreen. "Let's get you into the ocean."

When you were ankle deep in the water, you squeezed his hand, squealing. "Cold!"

"Yeah!" He waded in alongside you, stopping whenever you did.

When you were waist deep, you finally shivered, clamping onto him like a starfish. He patiently went deeper, feet still touching the ground when the water lapped at his chest. "You okay, baby?"

"You should t-throw me in," you giggled.

"Huh?" He frowned. "But it's cold."

"Please?"

Clark sighed, reaching down to scoop you up under your knees. "'M not gonna throw you too hard."

"Okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh!" You let go of his neck, folding your arms over your stomach. "I trust you, baby."

Clark reached down to kiss your tummy before fully lifting you out of the water. When he tossed you a little ways away, you screamed in delight, throwing your hands in the air as you crashed into the water.

When you resurfaced, Clark began to wade over, concern dripping off him along with ocean water. "Sweetie, you okay?"

"Yeah-oh!" You crossed your arms over your chest, furiously treading water in the seconds he wasn't near you.

"Are you hurt? Baby?" Clark began to inspect you, rubbing over your skin, searching for bruises.

"N-no," you shivered. "It's just…my bikini top came off."

Clark's eyebrows shot up, and he averted his eyes, wasting no time snatching the top when he spotted it floating nearby.

"Honey, you can look," you laughed. "We're married, remember?"

"Right." He was blushing a little when he dragged his eyes back over. They flickered at your chest, and then shot back up to your eyes. "Here. I can re-tie it."

"I should have called you in when I got dressed," you said as he secured an arm around your waist, guiding you back to shallow waters. You turned around, holding the top in place while he pushed your hair over one shoulder and got to tying. When he stepped back, you asked, "Did you do bows?"

There was a quiet "shoot" behind you, and then his fingers were at your back again, fumbling with the ties.

You held his hand, pulling him back under the umbrella. He insisted on being your backrest, spreading his legs wide so you could settle on his chest. Clark fed you plum slices, kissing your wet hair. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you sighed, hanging onto his big arm slung over your chest. "We should stay forever."

"I'll fly you here whenever you want," he said confidently, and you giggled. Turning onto your side, you rested your cheek on his chest, pulling your legs up. Clark adjusted his arms, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Okay still?"

"Mhm." You poked one of his pecs. "Sun just makes me sleepy. You make me sleepy."

"Why?" He sounded so worried that you looked up, patting his chest.

"Just means I feel safe," you assured. "I don't have to be on alert. You make me feel like I can relax."

Now he looked proud, adjusting his arms around you. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh." You tugged at one of his arms until you could reach his hand, bringing it around to hold. He let you hold it, stroking his thumb over your knuckles.

"Rest all you need," he murmured. "I've got you." You reached for the bag of plums, and he brought another slice to your lips without missing a beat. "You're not lifting a finger, m'kay? I'm gonna take care of my wife."

Tipsy was such a lovely word. Tipsy, tipsy, tipsy. You repeated it over and over in your head as you swung your legs where you were sitting on the chair. Clark appeared in your eyeline, kneeling and putting a glass of water in your hand. "You okay?"

"My baby," you pouted, pinching his cheeks. "I wanna hold you."

"I think I wanna take you home," he said, lifting you by the waist to stand up. The bar was packed, the music loud, but you could still hear him like he was the only person speaking in the room.

Dinner and drinks had been absolutely lovely, and he'd not let go of your hand the entire time. Clark had found this place online, and you'd picked both your outfits. He looked so handsome in his blue striped vacation button down, glasses a little crooked. You clung to his arm, stumbling a little in your tall wedges, an attempt to be able to stand cheek to cheek with him.

"Here, honey-" Clark swept an arm under your legs, lifting you into his chest. He put your purse over his arm, walking steadily. "Let's not have you falling."

Happy and buzzing, you swung your feet as he walked back with you. "You're such a cutie."

"I am nooot," you whined, flopping backward in his arms. "I'm sexy."

"Sure." Clark elbowed the door open, shutting it behind him with his foot. He used the side of his arm to flip the lock before carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on the mattress.

You sniffled, lower lip trembling as he looked down at you. Clark's face fell. "What's the matter baby? What do you need?" He knelt by the bed, big hand over your head. "Sweetie, what can I do?"

"I wanna be sexy," you cried, and he kissed your forehead.

"Oh, my poor baby," he murmured, sitting you up to lean against him. "It's okay. You're very sexy, I promise."

"Promise?" you asked muffled against his shoulder.

"Promise." He pulled back, looking at you in a way that made your insides melt. Your stomach growled, and he frowned. "You hungry?"

"Nooooo." You flopped back into your pillow.

"Stay right here. My girl's not sleeping on an empty stomach." Clark disappeared for a moment, and you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, singing to yourself.

"Lalalalalala, Superman's my husband and he kisses me all the way down to my-"

"Are we being appropriate in here?" Clark had a white bowl of plums when he returned, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. He'd removed his glasses, and you were nearly drooling at his messy hair.

"No!" you said happily, making grabby hands at him.

Setting the plums down, he sat down with you, kissing your nose. "There's my pretty wife."

You stuck your bottom lip out. "I want to do stuff."

"Yeah?" Clark fed you a plum. "Maybe after we finish these plums. And after we cuddle and close our eyes for five minutes."

"Okay." You bounced your feet on the mattress. "Just five minutes?"

"Mhm." He smoothed your hair from your forehead and lifted a glass of water to your lips.

"We should probably be naked then," you decided.

"I was thinking we would get into our pajamas, just for fun." He rubbed your arm. "You look so pretty in your pajamas."

His words melted you enough to let him dress you in your cute pink set and get you under the covers while he changed. When he got into bed, he settled you on his bare chest and said, "How about we combine steps two and three? Close your eyes while we cuddle."

"Mkay." You were too sleepy to say anything more, letting your eyes flutter shut. He kissed your head, rubbing your back under your top. "Loyou."

"Love you too," he said, shifting you to a more comfortable position. "You comfy? Need anything? Need to go anywhere?"

"Cuddles." You nuzzled into his chest. "I don't wanna sleep on you. I might drool."

"'S okay." Clark pressed lightly on your lower back. "Just close your eyes, sweetie."

"Wanna go home 'n see Fish," you mumbled.

"He'll be very happy to see you in a few days," Clark promised. "Honey, just close your eyes."

"M'kay," you muttered, relaxing into his arms. "Love you."

"Love you too, sunshine."

[strawbshrtcks]

scott miller who lets you lay your head in his lap and suck on his cock while he goes through storm images and data. he's all but ignoring you, eyes glued to the oil slick colors of the doppler radar while you give kitten licks to his slit and try to get his attention by bobbing your head as deep as you can at your awkward sideways angle. still he doesn't glance down, clicking through endless spreadsheets with numbers coded under columns you can't read even under better circumstances, and you're starting to think you're doing something wrong until you lift your head to press all the way down and he takes an almost punishing grip on your hair, holding you still while you whine and gag. when you tap his hip, he lets you drag back to breathe. a line of spit connects your lips to his thick, ruddy tip, and finally he casts those steel blue eyes down to you with a look of disdain and maybe, if you try hard to imagine it, something softer.

"don't distract me," he says. "you're the one who wanted to do this."

[strawbshrtcks]

clark kent is the kind of guy to plan out his entire future with you while he’s balls deep and absolutely pussy drunk. his body is pressed against yours with his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily while making scarcely comprehensible promises in your ear. the fantasies swirl in his mind, becoming more vivid as he gets closer and closer.

“ ‘m gonna marry you, a-and we can have a farm of our own, ah- and a big house with kids, fuck…jus’ want it all with you please.” and then in true clark fashion he gets a tad embarrassed about what he said after he’s done, but you both know he really means it.

[strawbshrtcks]

#stopmakingclarkcuss

[strawbshrtcks]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[strawbshrtcks]

# CLARK KENT — NSFW ALPHABET !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✶ clark’s behaviour in the bedroom.

002. WARNINGS !

✶ MINORS DNI! talks of oral sex, sex positions, cum, dom/sub dynamics (it’s just a sprinkle), cock size (?), kissing. just a lot of filth, basically. sorry if i missed anything.

003. NOTE !

✶ i haven’t written smut or anything of the sort in like a year? so excuse me if this is rusty or cringey, i did my best 😞 also my Clark Kent Is Vanilla agenda is being pushed hard.

word count : 2,3k

A — AFTERCARE . . . what they're like after sex!

Clark is the King of aftercare. He was raised to be gentle, to be kind, to be respectful. So it is no surprise when he takes very good care of you after being intimate. He has wipes on hand, various chocolates, and a  bottle of water ready on the nightstand. He also loves a good cuddle sesh. That’s more of a selfish need of his, but he knows you crave it as much as him, so he’s not too bothered by it. 

B — BODY PART . . . their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's!

THEIRS . . . He loves his arms. Clark can practically lift the earth with his big, strong arms, but most importantly he can lift you. He will pick you up anywhere, anytime he pleases. There’s a big puddle right where you’re walking? Don’t worry, he will lift you and suffer through the dirty water splattering on his trousers. But, perhaps why he loves his arms so much, is because he can just grab you and fuck you standing—he won’t even break a sweat while doing it. He also adores it when you get cuteness aggression and bite down on his bicep. 

YOURS . . . He loves your face. Not only because he thinks you’re the prettiest girl on the universe, but because he loves watching all the expressions and little ticks you have. Loves to grab your cheeks, smush them and kiss you senseless. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose when he makes a corny joke. And he particularly loves to watch the way your mouth parts when he hits that particular spot inside you that makes you fall apart, and the lip bite you do after to contain the loud moans that follow. 

C — CUM . . . anything to do with cum, basically!

There’s a lot of it. It’s almost too much at times. When he wears a condom, he’s extra careful taking it off because spillage is almost guaranteed. Therefore, he rarely comes anywhere else but in you, the mess he will leave is rarely worth the hassle. Besides, it’s much nicer to watch it spill out of you and fuck it back into you—he says it’s to “avoid cleaning”. It’s not. The bedsheets have to be changed either way. 

D — DIRTY SECRET . . . pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs!

He loves it when you’re a little dominant. When you grab him and push him onto the bed, practically ripping off his shirt as soon as he gets home from work. Clark doesn’t mind you taking out your frustration on him, how could he when it entails you riding him until you physically can’t? Sometimes he guiltily hopes someone pissed you off at work so he can take the brunt of it. 

E — EXPERIENCE . . . how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?

Clark is not the most experienced person ever. He’s not a virgin, but there are not many people who can put up with the monster that hides under his pants. He learns what to do along the way. Notices how your heart rate picks up or how your breath hitches when he does certain things. He’s always willing to learn, researching on different magazines and websites, but mostly he listens to you and your needs.

F — FAVOURITE POSITION . . . this goes without saying!

Mating press. He loves the closeness, how intimate it feels. It allows him to go so deep, perhaps too deep, but you don’t seem to mind. It also gives him easy access to kiss you, something he cannot go without. He will whine when you’re too busy moaning to give him a proper kiss. 

G — GOOFY . . . are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

He’s more serious, mainly because he’s focused on not hurting you and making sure you’re enjoying yourself. This does not mean he will not be goofy, have you not seen how the man acts? The first time he says “Golly” while being inside you, you let out a giggle and he cannot help but do so too. Clark doesn’t mean to be silly—that’s just how he normally is.

H — HAIR . . . how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

Clark is incredibly well groomed. He’s clean-shaven everywhere. His smooth skin is almost enviable, it’s like he’s fresh off a commercial. It is rare that you ever see any dark patches of hair, but when being Superman occupies too much of his time, you will begin to see a dark shadow on his crotch. 

I — INTIMACY . . . how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

This man does not fuck, he makes love. He does not understand hookup culture, sex is something so intimate to him, so beautiful he cannot reduce it down to that. He loves making out, loves muttering compliments and telling you how much he loves you. He also adores looking at you, making eye contact and staring so intensely into your soul that it makes you blush. 

J — JACK OFF . . . masturbation headcanon!

Clark has crazy stamina, he knows a couple rounds cannot satisfy the ache within him, so he will resort to jerking off in the shower more than he’d like to admit. You’ve reassured him that he can keep going, even if you’re thoroughly spent, but he feels too bad to do so. 

K — KINK . . . one or more of their kinks!

There are not many things he really likes, he’s content with being a pretty vanilla man. He can get behind a little Dom/Sub action (him as the submissive, of course). He has to be so in control of everything as Superman that it’s nice being the one told what to do. Along those lines is orgasm control, both you to him and him to you—he really has a thing for power play, doesn’t he? Another fun thing is temperature play, you once asked him to use his freeze breath, and though he was hesitant, it turned out to be very pleasurable. 

L — LOCATION . . . favourite places to do the deed!

Your shared bed. You’ve christened basically all of your apartment since living together, but nothing compared to the comfort of your bed. Clark just really loves coming home to you, picking you up and throwing you onto the bed. When you moved in together the first thing he did was plow you into the mattress, he doesn’t really know why, but something about having sex in your shared bed really does it for him.

M — MOTIVATION . . . what turns them on, gets them going!

Besides you being you, he really has a thing for watching you get ready. It doesn’t matter if it’s for work or date night, Clark rests against the bathroom door and stares. He really does feel like a creep sometimes, sitting on the bed and watching you pick your outfits. Those moments really test his restraint. The amount of lip gloss that has been wasted because he cannot—and he swears he’s sorry—restrain himself and kisses you, messing up your makeup in the process. You pretend to be mad, but kiss him back anyway. He also messes up your perfectly ironed clothes with how hard he grabs your waist or butt, sometimes both at the same time. 

N — NO . . . something they wouldn't do, turn offs!

Anything that could potentially harm you. You’ve tried having him choke you, but he’s too scared of accidentally using too much force. He also will not spank you or hit you in any sort of way, he would never forgive himself if you were ever hurt because of him.

O — ORAL . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

Clark Kent is an Eater™. He could spend hours on end between your thighs, there is no sweeter taste than you coming on his tongue, and no better feeling than you locking his head between your legs. Don’t get him wrong, he also loves having his cock sucked, but he can go without it. Eating you out? That he cannot live without. 

P — PACE . . . are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Slow and sensual, all the way. As stated before, he’s scared of being too rough and thus prefers taking his time. The size of him is also a problem, you always need time to adjust which means he will take it slow. He doesn’t mind, though. The more time he can be close to you, the better. 

Q — QUICKIE . . . their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

Despite loving to take his time, Clark is always down for a quickie. Especially before going to work. You’re both barely awake, groggy from the blaring alarm, there is no time to waste. He clumsily searches for the lube inside the nightstand drawer, puts some into his hand, spreads it, and slowly enters you. When he gets the go-ahead, he starts rutting into you, as gently and hastily as he can. The amount of times you’ve both had to rush to get to work because you lost track of time, he really is thankful for his super speed in those moments. 

R — RISK . . . are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

As long as it doesn’t involve you getting hurt, he’s game to do whatever you please. Although his idea of a crazy night is fucking into you doggy style. But, hey, he hasn’t heard any complaints from you so he must be doing something right. 

S — STAMINA . . . how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

As mentioned before, this man is a superpowered alien with incredible strength and physical abilities, which means his stamina is out of this world (literally). He can go for unlimited rounds, as much as you want he will give. The limit does not exist. This also means he can last for a very long time, because of this he will only cum after you—he’s a gentleman like that. 

T — TOYS . . . do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

You both own a couple of them. Yours are from before meeting him, whereas his are after meeting you. He thinks it’s a nice way to spice it up, it isn’t anything too crazy but it brings a nice variety to the bedroom. He mostly likes to use them on you, though he won’t complain if you ever want to use one on him. One might say he looks forward to whenever you come home with a new toy to try on him. 

U — UNFAIR . . . how much they like to tease!

Clark is very fair, actually. He would say you’re the tease in the relationship. Always grinding against him, touching him in a way that is almost inappropriate in public, or kissing him for a beat too long. In fact, you’re PDA menaces. Anything you want, he will give. He wastes no time teasing, you even once called him out on his borderline desperation and he only laughed. He doesn’t mind being desperate when it comes to you. 

V — VOLUME . . . how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

He’s very loud. A moan always slips out when he finally thrusts inside you, grunts and groans leaving his mouth almost incessantly. He will even whimper when you grab his cock and stroke him, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your touch. He has no shame when it comes to the sounds he makes, he’s very grateful that the walls of your apartment are thick or he’s sure a noise complaint would’ve arrived by now from one of your neighbours.

W — WILD CARD . . . a random headcanon for the character!

He uses his x-ray vision to see just how deep he is inside you. Clark knows he’s huge, he doesn’t need the vision to tell him that, but there’s something so arousing about seeing it. The first time he did it, he gasped and you—knowing about his powers, because of course he confessed to his secret identity the second you became boyfriend and girlfriend—realised instantly what was going on. He then pressed on your stomach, and pointed out exactly just how deep he was. It was a bit scary at first, but it was a fleeting feeling because he was hitting all the right spots, so the only thing you really felt or cared about was pleasure. So, if Clark wants to use his x-ray vision, you will not mind.  

X — X-RAY . . . let's see what's going on under those clothes!

He’s huge. Everything about him is, why would his cock be any different? He’s about 24cm or 9 inches. It’s an absolute beast, it took months before he could bury himself to the hilt. Not to mention he’s also incredibly girthy. All in all, Clark Kent is packing a strong punch. Perhaps that’s why he allows himself to be vanilla, there is nothing else he really needs but his cock to drive you crazy. 

Y — YEARNING . . . how high is their sex drive?

Incredibly high. He is down to have sex anywhere, anytime. Clark’s a yearner through and through. In fact, one of the hottest things about him is how down bad he is for you. You’re horny in the middle of your dinner date? Don’t worry, he’s making a beeline for the bathroom. He gets home from work and you basically jump him as soon as he enters the apartment? He’s pressing you impossibly closer, legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He cannot get enough of you. 

Z — ZZZ . . . how quickly they fall asleep after sex!

He falls asleep as soon as you do. He waits for your heartbeat to steady, your breathing evening out as you fall deep into dreaming. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you into him, and then he allows himself to relax and fall asleep, too.

[strawbshrtcks]

— clark kent x reader

୨୧ warnings: semi-public sex, piv, oral (m!receiving), softdom!clark ୨୧ requests open! check out my navigation for request guidelines and masterlist.⠀ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

the broom closet of the daily planet smelled of dust and faint arousal- clark’s belt had clattered to the floor before he could even process what was happening, his hands flying to your shoulders like he might steady himself.

he was pleasantly surprised that day when you had pulled him by his wrist into the nearest closet- blabbering about how much you missed his cock as you got onto your knees.

“gosh—" clark barely choked out, half lidded eyes watching your silhouette in the dim closet. you smiled up at him as you tugged his pants down just enough- letting his already aching cock spring out.

clark’s hips began twitching forward the second your mouth was on him. his head thudded back against the wall as a low groan tore from his throat.

his fingers tangled into your hair— his touch gentle at first— until you hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him with those innocent hooded eyes, darkened with lust.

then? all bets were off. the next tug was sharper, more possessive as his breath hitched audibly above you: "... oh- ah- just like that, sweetheart."

you hummed around him, eyes peering up at him through your lashes. you pulled away for a moment- lips leaving his swollen head with a soft ‘pop’. “been thinkin’ about you all day- need you so bad.” you keen softly.

clark’s breath stuttered—like the words themselves were enough to send him spiraling—before he choked out a laugh that sounded more like a whimper.

“gosh, you’re gonna kill me." clark’s fingers tightened in your hair as his hips jerked forward into your hand, already desperate for more. "we just— ah—did this before work."

a strained groan escaped him when you dragged your tongue over the head of his cock—teasing. your nails take down his thigh, your tongue flicking over his head once more before you whine. “can you fuck me? please clark?” you begged softly, big wide eyes pleading up at him.

clark’s jaw clenched so hard he swore his teeth might crack. you—begging like that while looking up at him like he was your entire damn universe? how was he to deny you?

he tugged you up by your hair (gently, mostly) until your lips crashed against his in a searing kiss—one hand already working frantically to push the skirt of your work dress up around your waist.

“you gonna be quiet for me?” clark asked against your mouth before spinning you around and pressing you face-first into the shelves. you let out a mewl- nodding vigorously as your cheek presses into the surface of the shelf. “yes, i’ll be quiet…” you murmured.

he bit back a groan at that— you were so obedient. gosh, he loved when you listened.

his hands gripped the fat of your hips, fingers digging in possessively as he dragged the leaking head of his cock through your slickness once—twice—before sinking into you with one devastating thrust. he buried himself to the hilt- drawing a low groan out of you.

a strangled noise escaped him the second he was fully seated, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as his entire body shuddered. "ah- gosh," be hissed against your skin, voice ragged—already losing it just from how your cunt sucked him in.

then- he draws almost all the way back out before slamming back into you, his tip hitting your cervix with each thrust.

you cry out at the snap of his hips, fingers digging into the wood of the closet shelves hard enough to splinter as you try to keep your promise to be quiet.

“clark—" you squeak, your voice low but still far too loud, and that's all it takes for him to wrap a hand over your mouth.

“ah ah, you said you'd be quiet," he scolds lowly against your neck, his teeth grazing and sucking on the skin of your jaw. “so keep your voice down or i’m gonna make you come so hard you won't be able to keep quiet if you tried." he murmurs, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, licking the glistening sweat off.

clark’s hands move from your hips to the shelf in front of you, bracing himself as he ruts into you with agonizingly slow, deep rolls—each one dragging a punched-out groan from his throat. his swollen lips press against the back of your neck between uneven breaths, teeth scraping lightly when your pussy clenches around him just right.

“fu-fuck," you chokes out against his hand, grip on the shelving unit turning white-knuckled. "so good for me. gosh- sweetheart, you’re milkin’ me- ah-“ he murmurs, biting a purple bruise into the curve of your neck.

his thrusts become sloppier by the second, rutting into you with ragged grunts that sound dangerously close to whimpers. your stomach coils, your toes curling. “c-cla-ah!”you whine lowly, lips permanently forming an ‘o’ shape while he drilled into your abused cunt. your body tries to squirm away in response to the overstimulation-

"don’t." It came out as a warning— low, authoritative in that way that always went straight to your core. clark’s hand on your mouth tightened- while the other hand gripped your hip—tighter; a reminder that he was in charge and this was his terms.

he leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he spoke with a growl: "you do what i say, remember?"

his free arm hooked around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he murmured: "don’t squirm, doll, you wanted this, yeah?” he says between thrusts.

the heat of his body pressing you into the shelves, the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear— god, it’s enough to make you dizzy. clark’s rhythm is relentless, each thrust deliberate and deep, like he’s determined to ruin you right here in this cramped little closet.

his fingers flex against your lips when you whimper again, voice dropping to a wrecked whisper: "that's it—take it."

a particularly sharp snap of his hips has your knees buckling— but he doesn’t let you fall. no, he holds you there, keeps you upright even as pleasure threatens to knock the air from your lungs. his hand shifts from your hip to splay along your lower tummy, letting out a primal groan when he feels the slight bulge his tip makes in your womb.

"feel that?" he rasps against the shell of your ear as he fucks into you harder— faster. you let out a muffled cry into his hand, thighs trembling, skin slapping on skin.

“shh." His voice is a rough whisper, strained with restraint as his hips snap forward one final time—burying himself deep inside you with a choked-off groan. The shelves rattle dangerously behind you, but clark doesn’t stop. couldn’t stop if he tried.

the force of his balls slapping against your clit mixed with his cock abusing your g spot has your eyes rolling back- “c-cl-ark-“ you warn, his fingers flexing over your lips.

"i know," he coos against your ear—voice shredded, wrecked beyond recognition. "i know, baby."

His fingers tighten around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough for you to feel it— as his thrusts turn erratic. he’s close. clark's teeth sink into your shoulder to muffle his own noises as he chases that high. "that’s it, baby— come on."

you squeeze your eyes shut as you cum— hard, your pussy pulsing rapidly as you scream into the flesh of his palm. clark’s breath is ragged against the curve of your neck when he finally loses it, your cunt clamping down on him just right and your arousal dripping down your thighs: "oh, gonna—” his voice cracks halfway through the warning, hips stuttering as he spills into you with a stifled groan.

you two stay like that for a minute, slick skin on skin and chests heaving. he silently leans down and grabs his handkerchief from his pants, pulling out of you with a soft grunt and wipes up his mess.

he tucks himself back into his pants with one hand while the other smooths down your dress carefully, fingers lingering on the curve of your hip like he’s still reluctant to let go.

“you," he rasps against your ear before straightening his tie in the dim light (a losing battle), "are going to be the death of me." a beat passes where he just stares at you—disheveled and his in every way that matters—before clearing his throat: "...back to work?"

DOLL2SICK est. 2025 © do not copy or publish my work to any other platform!

[strawbshrtcks]

THE GLASSES STAY ON!

you love to ride clark kent, especially when you watch his glasses fog

content includes; riding, you’re deeply obsessed with his glasses, subby!clark, overstimulation

made by msbratzdoll🫧

you think, no— you know clark is attractive. he’s super super hot. but he’s ten times more attractive when his glasses are on. he looks so much more studious and handsome, thinking about it makes your brain malfunction.

“fuck.. clark—“ you moaned. you were bouncing up and down his cock, watching the way his head was pressed against the pillow. his lips slightly parted, it’s so cute. his glasses were fogging up, the room was hot, he was sweaty, and it was overwhelming for him. but to you, you loved it. “baby— i can’t see.. i can’t see you, im gonna take them of-” “no. keep it on, please.” you put your hands on his cheeks, “i wish you could see you. you’re so handsome, so precious.” you kissed his nose, bouncing a bit more harder. clarks cock twitch, his hips subconsciously moving up to kiss your cervix with his tip. “fuck, fuck—”

your back arched, “you can take them off later okay?” you cooed, kissing his lips. clark whimpered, “baby, i swear.. m’gonna cum.. c-can i cum inside? please.” he pleaded. “yes! y-yes, of course..” you kissed his lips sloppily. clarks hand went to your hips, shaky. he wanted to see you, wanted to see your face. not bits and blurs, but hearing your moans and praises made him harder than anything in this moment.

you knew you guys were gonna fuck for hours, and that’s fine.. totally. even though you both have work in the morning, you couldn’t get enough.

[strawbshrtcks]

STEAMING MIRRORS!

clark kent loves to take nice, hot showers with you after a long day

content includes; shower sex, clark just head over heels and loving you, gentleness cause 🥹, words of affirmation. i pick clark

made by msbratzdoll🫧

divider credits @/HONEYLUVSW

nothing is more satisfying than to come home to your boyfriend. clark doesn’t like to shower until you get home. he takes his showers very seriously. he loves it when he hears the front door click, ‘cause he knows it’s you. you’re usually so burnt out from a long day, so he takes this opportunity to take a shower with you.

he turns on the water, making sure it’s warm enough. the towels already hung up and he already took your shower cap from the hook. you’d be so tired to think, so you’d let clark do all of the thinking for you. he’d undress you slowly, kissing you while feeling your warm skin. you would be all naked and bare for him, and he’d be bare for you too. he tucked your hair into the shower cap, making sure no strand was left behind.

he guided you to the shower, the clear door already fogged up. the warm water hitting your skin. clark’s kisses were tender and hot. he could see it on your face, your day at work was miserable. “how was your day, baby?” he murmured in your neck, massaging your back. “not good.” you sighed. “talk to me.” he kissed the ridge of your ear. “i..” you were so tense, so annoyed with life. “take your time, it’s okay.” the soft patting noises of the water hitting the floors soaked up the tension.

“i don’t know where to start.” your back slouched. “start from when you walked in.” he guided. you began to explain and complain about your morning, and he intently listened and questioned you to keep you on your feet. you began to relax for once. clark had cleaned your back, so he turned you around and began scrubbing your chest with the loofah lathered up in soap. “thank you.. clark.” you muttered. “anytime.” he nodded. as he finished, he let the water rain on you. you looked up at him, hands on his chest. he was so much bigger than you, so much taller. it felt more comforting than intimidating. your lips intertwining with his. his hands wrap around your back. this was all you needed, all you craved.

he lifted you up, your legs instantly wrapped around his waist. “clark..” you muttered. “yes?” he responded. “i love you.” a quick swift of quietness echoed. “i love you too. i love you so much, im sorry about your day. let me make it better, please.”he replied with a kiss. your back pressed against the wet walls, the kisses became more intense and a little sloppy. your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gently squishing your waist. “tell me if it’s too much,” he warmly murmured in the crook of your neck. he slowly slid you down on his cock, your nose crinkled. “fuck-” you cursed lowly. every inch that practically glided inside made you decompress somehow. your toes curled as he bottomed out. he didn’t move, he waited for you to speak, to say it was too much, but he didn’t. so he thrusted slowly, kissing your neck as you moaned. the water filtering you out.

“mhm.. clark,” you gasped, “yes, honey?” you only moaned in his hair, grasping him close. he was so big, so overwhelming but you didn’t care. you needed this, you craved this all day. quiet shower sex, that’s how you needed to end the day. clark grunted in your ear, trying to make this as pleasurable as possible for you. “are you okay?”

you hummed, “yes.. m’perfect.” you sniffled. “jus’ keep going, please.” you love clark and all he’s done for you. and clark is obsessed with you.

[strawbshrtcks]

TEARS

Clark Kent X Female!reader || WC: 7.4K

SUMMARY: After months of dating Clark, your nights together never seem to go beyond second base. The slow burn has only sharpened your desire, leaving you restless and aching until the frustration becomes impossible to ignore. One way or another, you’re determined to make him take the next step.

WARNINGS: INCLUDES SMUT (18+) Essentially porn without plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), fingering, oral (fem receiving), body worship, multiple orgasms, slight praise kink, lots of sexual tension, cursing, size kink, possessive/dom!Clark, established relationship, fluff, aftercare, slight angst if you squint, reader knows Clark is Superman

A/N: This request was by the lovely @icybarness! It's safe to say that this song has quickly become a fan favorite, mine included! Hope I did it justice, especially since smut isn't exactly my strong suit, but I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless! Divider by @bernardsbendystraws <3

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➩ clark kent masterlist

Clark Kent was the kind of gentleman you only ever read about in romance paperbacks or saw in old romcoms, the perfect, ideal, endlessly thoughtful boyfriend. He carried that boyish charm of the farm boy cliché, all earnest smiles and soft laughter, with a heart so pure. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering how someone so ideal had managed to stumble into your life, and yet there he was, smiling at you like you were the center of his world.

He remembered the smallest things, the details others often overlooked. He knew your coffee order by heart, the exact amount of sugar, iced not hot, and the way you liked the foam just barely stirred in, making it his personal mission to have it waiting for you every morning. You would look up from your desk to find the coffee cup already there, Clark leaning down to brush a kiss against your cheek or your forehead, always leaving you with that boyish dimpled grin before slipping away.

It wasn’t grand or showy, but it was so deeply thoughtful that your heart never failed to flutter. With Clark, chivalry wasn’t an outdated idea but instead a natural extension of who he was. Doors never went unopened for you; his hand always beat yours to the handle. Walking down the street, he kept you tucked securely against his side, his palm warm and steady in yours, his body always angled just slightly to shield you from traffic.

There was always an unspoken promise in the way he held onto you, as if his first instinct was always to protect and cherish. What made it all the more special was that none of this was a surface-level performance. Even with the impossible demands of being Superman, the unpredictability, the long hours, the danger, he found ways to make you feel like his first priority. Date nights were sometimes missed, but he never let them slip away without acknowledgment.

He would show up at your door afterward, breathless with apologies and a bouquet of flowers, his arms wrapping around you as if he could pour all his regret into the embrace. And when the world had taken more from him than he had to give, he still made space for you, curling you into his chest on your shared bed, holding you close while until you both drifted into a quiet, contented sleep. Clark Kent was more than just a gentleman; he was tenderness personified.

But lately, that just wasn't enough. You adored Clark’s gentleness, his patience, but there were nights where you laid awake in his arms, aching for him to let go of that restraint you knew he was holding back. You wanted him raw, unfiltered, to use every ounce of his Kryptonian strength to fuck you senseless until you couldn’t walk the next day. The thought of it alone had your body sparking with heat, your skin prickling with the promise of something you hadn’t even yet tasted.

And the worst part was, you knew he knew.

Hours of straddling his lap had left you dizzy with need, his big hands steadying your hips as your mouths moved in sync, tongues tangling in a way that only left you more desperate. You threaded your fingers through his soft hair, tugging just hard enough to hear him growl low in his throat, before pressing hungry kisses along the warm expanse of his neck. Each mark you left felt like a small victory, even if his annoyingly fast healing erased them by morning.

The shift in him was subtle but undeniable. You could feel it in the hesitation of his hands, spread wide across your back, hovering dangerously close to slipping lower, thumbs brushing just a breath away from the curve of your ass. You saw it in the way his gaze lingered too long on your chest, his breath hitching, his lips parting ever so slightly before he forced himself to look away. That restraint was pure torture.

You could practically hear it in the quiet sound he made whenever you rolled your hips against him, pressing down on the obvious, pulsing bulge straining in his jeans. Your vibrator didn’t stand a chance anymore. Nights blurred together with you chasing release, yet it always left you unsatisfied, hollow in a way that only Clark could fill. The fantasy of his touch haunted you, the way those thick fingers of his would feel sliding inside you, curling just right, stroking spots you could never reach on your own.

And his cock, God, even without seeing it, you knew. You’d felt it twitch and swell beneath you whenever you ground down for friction, the hard ridge pressing against you through his jeans, promising a stretch that would ruin you in the sweetest way. Every kiss, every brush of his hand, every accidental graze of his body against yours only added to the fire. You weren't sure just how much longer you could hold out before it consumed you entirely.

"Earth to Y/N?" Jimmy’s voice cut through the haze of heat clouding your mind, snapping you back to the bullpen. Your pen slipped from your fingers, clattering onto the desk, and you prayed the flush in your cheeks could be passed off as embarrassment at being caught daydreaming, rather than the not-so-innocent fantasies you’d been drowning in. You blinked, forcing your expression into something neutral, but the smirk tugging at Lois’s lips told you everything you needed to know.

Of course she’d noticed. Nothing ever escaped Lois Lane, especially not with the way your gaze had been glued to Clark across the room, following the way his suit jacket stretched across those broad shoulders as he leaned over an intern’s desk. "You okay?" Jimmy asked, raising a brow, as he handed back the pen you’d dropped. “Just tired.” You muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear purposely avoiding Lois’s knowing gaze.

Jimmy seemed to be satisfied with your answer, swiveling back to sort through the scattered photos on his desk. You prayed Lois would drop it, but deep down you knew better, knowing your best friend never missed a chance to make you squirm. “The next time you’re eye-fucking your boyfriend at work, where people can see you, maybe be a little more subtle.” Her wink was merciless, sharp enough to make you wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Lois!” You hissed, your voice dropping to a harsh whisper as the heat instantly rushed to your cheeks. You darted a frantic look around the bullpen, praying no one else had caught her words. The last thing you needed was for Perry to walk by and overhear that kind of gossip. Unfortunately, fate, or rather, Clark’s super-hearing, had other plans. You caught the soft choke from a few feet away, the unmistakable sound of Clark suddenly forgetting how to breathe.

Your eyes shot to him instantly. He was standing rigid near his desk, a file in hand, his glasses slightly askew from where he’d pushed them up too fast. That charming blush dusted across his cheeks, the same one he always got when he was flustered. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he swallowed, but the way his gaze darted everywhere except yours gave him away completely. Your stomach twisted with equal parts mortification and something that made your thighs press together beneath your desk.

Damn his stupid super-hearing. Of course he’d caught every syllable Lois had thrown your way. And judging by the way his knuckles tightened around that file, you couldn’t help but wonder if his imagination had gone straight to the same place yours had been minutes earlier. Lois, clearly reveling in your misery, strolled by and patted your shoulder. “Relax, Y/N, Smallville looks like he didn’t mind the attention one bit.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly into your palms, though the damage was already done. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking one last glance in his direction. Clark looked every bit as undone as you felt. His ears burned crimson, the color creeping down the column of his neck and disappearing beneath his collar. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscle feathering as though he was physically holding something back.

And for just a second, so quick you might have imagined it, his eyes lifted to meet yours. The intensity in that fleeting look made your breath catch. It pinned you to the spot like you were the only person in the room, like he could see every filthy thought currently spiraling through your head. The weight of it hit you like a jolt of electricity, sparking under your skin, leaving your knees unsteady and your heart hammering against your ribs. God, you really, really needed to get laid.

Your "after-work" routine unfolded with the same comforting rhythm as always. The second the clock struck six, Clark was already at your side, his towering frame leaning down to snag your bag before you could protest. You shot him a soft smile as you powered down your computer, stretching your stiff muscles until you heard a faint pop in your shoulders.

“Ready?” He asked, his voice low and warm. You nodded, waving a quick goodbye to Jimmy, who gave you a two-finger salute, Lois, who arched her brows and smirked like she knew exactly what you were thinking, and Cat, who barely glanced up from her compact mirror. The moment you stepped close enough, Clark’s arm found its familiar place around your waist, his palm spanning your hip as though you belonged there.

You melted into his side instinctively, the tension from the day ebbing away at the steady thrum of his presence. He guided you with gentle ease through the revolving doors, his touch light but grounding. Outside, Metropolis was painted in that golden hour glow, the skyscrapers catching the last streaks of sunlight. The city was buzzing with its usual evening energy, horns blaring, chatter rising from the sidewalks, but none of it mattered to you.

Not when Clark’s arm was around you, not when his thumb absentmindedly traced lazy circles against your hip through the fabric of your cardigan. Luckily, the walk to your shared apartment wasn’t far, a straight shot down the familiar street lined with cafes closing up shop and neon signs flickering to life. Normally, you filled the walk with nonsensical chatter, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Tonight, though, the walk was silent. It wasn’t uncomfortable, if anything, it was charged, humming with all the tension left hanging in the newsroom. You were hyperaware of him, of the heat radiating from his body, of how close his hand was to brushing lower on your hip. Every few steps, you dared to glance up at him, catching the soft pink still lingering on his ears, the way his jaw seemed just a bit tighter than usual.

And when his gaze dropped to you, caught for a flickering heartbeat before darting away again, your stomach fluttered like you were back at square one, falling for him all over again. By the time your apartment came into view, your pulse was skyrocketing. Home wasn’t far, but the thought of what might happen once the door shut behind you made the short walk feel endless. As you trudged up the steps to your front door, the key clicked softly in the lock, and the two of you slipped into the cozy warmth of your apartment.

The faint scent of coffee and eucalyptus candles greeted you, a familiar comfort that instantly made your shoulders relax. Clark set your bag gently by the door, always careful, always thoughtful, before tugging off his glasses and placing them on the coffee table. He loosened his tie next, the small, mundane gesture he'd done one-hundred times before somehow sending your thoughts spiraling right back to the gutter.

Dinner was simple, the way it often was on nights like these. You chopped vegetables at the counter while Clark moved around the kitchen with easy familiarity, pulling out pans and setting water to boil. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours when you passed him something, or he’d lean over your shoulder to peek at what you were doing, pressing a light kiss to your temple before turning back to the stove.

To anyone else, it would have looked like a couple winding down after work, but beneath it all, that earlier tension still clung like static, making every brush of his fingers, every lingering glance feel amplified. Afterward, when the plates were rinsed and left to dry in the sink, you found yourselves migrating naturally to the couch. You curled up beside him at first, tucking your legs beneath you as his arm slipped easily around your shoulders, drawing you into his chest.

His warmth was comforting, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek grounding, but your body hummed with a restless energy that comfort alone couldn’t soothe. You shifted slightly, tilting your face up to meet his. His gaze was already on you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and kissed him. It started soft, as it always did with Clark, gentle lips brushing yours, his hand tightening ever so slightly from where it rested on your shoulder.

But the moment your fingers curled into the front of his button up, tugging him closer, something in him shifted. The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, and suddenly you were straddling his lap, knees braced on either side of him. His hands came to your waist, large and steady, though you could feel the faint tremor in them, as though he was barely containing himself. Your lips moved together like you’d been starved for this, tongues tangling, breaths mingling.

His grip tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to where you wanted him most. You pressed yourself down against him, desperate for friction, and felt the unmistakable familiar hardness straining beneath his jeans through your skirt. He broke from the kiss just long enough to drag in a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting a battle he knew he couldn’t win for much longer.

“I have a surprise for you." You whispered, your voice low and almost teasing, though your pulse thrummed so loud in your ears you were sure even Clark could hear it without his super-hearing. His blue eyes snapped to yours, flashing with something dangerous almost primal, but in the next heartbeat, it softened back into that familiar boyish warmth. You shifted on his lap, sitting straighter, your fingers trembling as you caught the hem of your cardigan.

Slowly, you peeled it off, letting it slip from your shoulders before tossing it aside. You were left in crimson lace, the bra hugging every curve, accentuating your cleavage. You hadn’t picked it by accident, you’d chosen it that morning, staring into your drawer longer than you cared to admit, because the color reminded you of him, of that iconic cape billowing behind him in the sky. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to make the connection too.

From where you perched on his lap, your breasts hovered mere inches from his face, your skin tingling with anticipation. His hands on your hips, twitched like he was fighting himself. His eyes flickered down, pupils blown wide, then, just as quickly, darted away. The rejection stung like ice water poured over your skin. Your heart sank, and before you could stop yourself, the words were spilling out, fragile and jagged.

“Clark, are you just… not attracted to me anymore or something?” Your voice cracked, your bravado collapsing into something rawer, more vulnerable. His reaction was immediate, almost panicked. “W-What? No, no, no, of course not! Why would even you say that?” His words tumbled out in a rush as his hand shot up, fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek before tucking a stray curl behind your ear. His touch was so careful it nearly broke you.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” You managed to choke out, the sting in your eyes betraying you. “I’ve constantly tried to seduce you. And every time, Clark, you pull away.” The burn in your throat made each word heavy, the thought of him not wanting you, or worse, not wanting your body, cutting deeper than you expected. “Sweet girl,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his hand sliding from your cheek back down to squeeze your hip, grounding you. “Look at me, please.”

It took significant effort, but you did. You lifted your chin and met those cerulean blue eyes you adored. Only, unlike you thought, they weren’t cold, weren’t distant, they were full of bafflement, of tenderness so deep it nearly undid you. “I am so attracted to you,” He admitted softly, as if the words themselves could heal the hurt. “More than you could possibly know. I think about you constantly, more than I should. In ways I know I shouldn't,"

He paused momentarily trying to find the right words. "But I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t always know how strong I am. If we take this next step, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back especially when it comes to you.” The sheer sincerity in his voice twisted something in your chest. Always the gentleman. Even now, when you were literally straddling him in lingerie, his first thought was of keeping you safe.

You let out a huff, part laugh, part exasperated sob. “Clark, you sweet, sweet man.” You leveled him with a deadpan look, though the vulnerability still lingered in your voice. “If you really want me to spell it out for you, I will," You leaned forward, voice dropping into a slurty sacchire whisper. "I want you to fuck me without holding back.” His nose wrinkled adorably at your bluntness, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

“Golly,” He muttered, almost scandalized. “Do you have to be so vulgar?” The sound of golly leaving his lips nearly made you choke on your laughter. You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle the chuckle, shoulders trembling, because only Clark Kent could make you want to laugh and cry and climb him like a tree all at once. “Vulgar?” You scoffed. “Clark, if you knew what was going on in my head right now, begging you to fuck me is far from—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish. His mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing your words in a kiss that was nothing like the careful ones you’d grown used to. The sheer force of it ripped a moan from your throat before you could stop it, the sound echoing in the quiet of your apartment. “You have no idea,” He rasped against your lips, his voice ragged, broken open by want. He barely gave you a second to breathe before he was trailing his mouth down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

His kisses sloppy and wet, leaving a glistening trail across your skin. “What you do to me.” Your pulse thundered under his lips, every nerve ending sparking as his teeth grazed the delicate spot beneath your ear. “Then, show me.” You managed to breath out, your voice shaking with the weight of your challenge. The words seemed to snap something in him because before you could blink, he scooped you up like you weighed nothing, his hands firm beneath your thighs, giving your ass a deliberate squeeze.

“Clark!” You gasped, arms winding desperately around his shoulders, clinging to him as your legs instinctively tightened around his waist. He carried you with ease, every step purposeful, each brush of his chest against yours sparking a new wave of heat. The short walk to the bedroom felt endless, every second stretched thin with anticipation. By the time he lowered you onto the bed, your lungs were aching from how shallowly you were breathing.

His gaze roamed over you hungrily, pausing at the crimson lace bra straining against your chest, the swell of cleavage practically begging for his mouth. His hands moved trembling slightly as he slid them up your sides, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts before carefully tugging the lace cups down. His breath caught, his composure shattered, as your chest spilled free, soft and perfect in the dim light.

“Gosh, Y/N. You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. For a moment, he simply stared, wide-eyed and speechless, like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Then just as quickly his restraint shattered completely. His mouth descended, hot and wet, capturing your pert nipple between his lips. The sensation made you arch instantly, a sharp cry tearing from you as his tongue circled, flicked, teased.

One broad hand kneaded the weight of your other breast, thumb brushing over the hardened peak with maddening attention. He switched between them with almost desperate need, sucking, laving, worshipping until you were a writhing mess beneath him. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging helplessly as your voice filled the room, moans, whimpers, his name spilling from your lips.

Every scrape of his teeth, every swirl of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands pulled louder, rawer sounds out of you until your throat ached with them. When his mouth finally left your chest, you were panting, trembling under his gaze. He traced lower now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down in one swift motion. His eyes went impossibly wider when he found your matching crimson panties, delicate lace hugging every curve just right.

“You wore these for me?” Your smirk was weak, lips swollen from kissing, but you managed it. “Remind you of anyone’s cape?” He groaned, a sound so raw it vibrated through your entire body, before lowering himself between your thighs like a man ready to worship. His big hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your hips like he needed to cage you in, like if he didn’t anchor himself he might lose control entirely.

His breath was hot against your inner thighs, each exhale teasing you through the lace, until you were trembling under him. His fingers brushed over the delicate fabric, tracing the edge of your panties like he was committing them to memory. “You’re killing me.” He muttered, his voice rough, reverent, like every ounce of restraint was fraying at once. With one slow tug, he peeled the lace down your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to break contact.

He let the panties drop to the floor carelessly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, pupils blown wide as if you were the only thing that mattered in the universe. “You’re so perfect.” The words escaped him in a hushed, broken whisper before he lowered himself fully, his mouth finding you with a desperate kind of devotion. The first sweep of his tongue against your soaked folds had you crying out, your back arching off the mattress.

He groaned at the taste, gripping your thighs firmly, holding you open for him as if he’d been starving for this. His tongue moved slowly at first, languid strokes that had you gasping, then faster, swirling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth with a hunger that left you writhing. “Clark, oh God—” Your hands shot down into his hair, threading through the soft dark strands as your hips bucked against his face.

He anchored you down easily, his strength undeniable, forcing you to take every flick, every swirl of his tongue. The contrast of his gentle restraint and his relentless mouth had you on the edge of unraveling far too quickly. When he groaned against you, the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure rippling through your body. “You taste better than anything I’ve ever imagined,” He rasped between licks, his words muffled against your slick core. “I could do this forever.”

Your thighs trembled around his head, and you couldn’t stop the sounds that tore from your throat, high, broken moans, whimpers, pleas for him not to stop. Every time his tongue circled your clit, your vision blurred, stars bursting at the edges of your sight. And still, he wasn’t content with just that. One of those thick fingers you’d fantasized about slid inside you, slow at first, curling just right, hitting that spot that had your nails digging into his scalp.

When he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you better than your vibrator ever had, you couldn’t hold back the strangled cry that tore past your lips because it was finally happening. It was no longer a dirty fantasy, but a reality, soul consuming, and so much more intoxicating than your imagination had ever allowed.

Your hips jerked helplessly, chasing the rhythm of his hand as your nails scraped against the sheets, desperate for something to ground you. Every curl of his fingers pressed deeper, grazing that spot that made your vision blur and your chest rise with broken breaths. The air between you felt heavy, charged, your name falling from his lips in a low growl that only sent you spiraling further.

The sheer intimacy of it, the way his eyes never left your face, watching every twitch, every gasp, every plea, made your skin flush. It wasn’t just physical, it was the weight of finally being touched by him, finally letting yourself unravel in his hands, surrendering to the reality that he wanted you just as badly. “That’s it, sweet girl,” He coxed, his voice rough, nearly unrecognizable, before sucking hard at your clit while his fingers pumped into you with a perfect rhythm.

Your thighs clamped helplessly around his head as the coil in your stomach finally snapped, pleasure flooding through you in waves so intense you thought you might break apart completely. You screamed his name, voice raw, as your body convulsed under his mouth, his fingers never slowing until you were shaking. Only when you were whimpering clearly overstimulated, did he finally ease up, kissing the inside of your thigh tenderly.

Clark’s chest was heaving by the time he pulled back, his lips slick with you, his face flushed, pupils blown wide. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but his gaze never wavered from you sprawled out on the bed, your chest rising and falling, bra straps slipping off your shoulders, thighs still trembling. And when he spoke, his voice was wrecked, shaking with the weight of everything he was holding back. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Clark, please, I need you so bad.” You whispered, voice wrecked, desperate. It was all he needed. Something inside him snapped. The careful restraint, the constant holding back, it all shattered in one instant. He was on you in a blur of movement, his mouth crashing against yours, kissing you with the same feral hunger he’d just shown between your thighs. You tasted yourself on his tongue, messy and intoxicating, and it only made you moan louder into his mouth.

His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, muttering curses under his breath when it didn’t immediately give way. You reached back, unclipping it yourself, and the second the lace fell free he sucked in a sharp breath, like the sight alone stole it from him. He dragged his mouth down to latch onto your breast again, rougher now, no hesitation, his teeth scraping over your nipple while his hand kneaded the other.

Your back arched, a cry tearing from your throat as you clawed at his shirt. “Off!” You gasped, tugging desperately at the buttons. He obeyed instantly, yanking the fabric over his shoulders and tossing it aside before lowering himself back over you. His chest was warm, hard muscle pressing into your soft curves, and you whimpered at the feel of him grinding down against you, the solid thickness of his cock straining through his jeans.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted you.” He rasped against your skin, kissing down the valley of your breasts, nipping at your ribs. “Then take me and don't hold back, please.” You begged, tugging at his waistband, nails scraping against his belt buckle. That was all it took. He surged upright, fumbling with his jeans, shoving them down his hips with shaking hands.

When his cock sprang free, your breath caught. He was thick, flushed, heavy in his fist as he stroked himself once. You finally understood why he’d been so hesitant, why he’d stalled every time things had grown heated between you. He wasn’t just big, he was massive, almost intimidating, a size that made your thighs press together in instinctive anticipation. Of course he’d worried about hurting you, about crossing a line your body might not have been ready for.

But the ache in your core told you otherwise. You wanted it. You wanted him. All of him. “God…” The word broke from you in a reverent whisper as your hand reached for him, wrapping carefully around the thick base of his cock. He hissed through his teeth at the touch, his head tipping back for a moment before lowering again to watch your smaller hand barely fit around him.“Let me, please, I want to taste you.” You licked your lips, offering softly.

But his fingers closed gently around your wrist, pulling your hand away with surprising control despite the tension thrumming through him. His jaw was tight, voice rough as gravel when he rasped. “No. Not tonight. I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart. I need to feel you, now.” The raw edge in his tone sent a shiver through you, every nerve alight as he positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. “Clark, please.” You whimpered, spreading your thighs wider for him.

His eyes darkened at the sight, and with a low growl. He paused, just for a heartbeat, blue eyes locking with yours. “Tell me if it’s too much.” Your hand cupped his cheek, pulling him down for another desperate kiss. “Don’t hold back.” As the words left your lips, he buried himself inside you in one deep, powerful thrust. The stretch was overwhelming, burning, perfect. You gasped his name, nails sinking into his muscled shoulders as your body struggled to take all of him.

Every inch of his cock filled you so completely you thought you might break, the stretch almost too much and yet exactly what you’d been craving. Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, clenching tight as your body tried to accommodate the thick length now buried inside you. “Fuck.” He cursed, the word torn from his chest in a low, guttural rasp that made heat spike through your veins. The sound alone had your core pulsing, slick gushing around him as if your body was desperate to keep him there, to take more.

The curse only made you wetter, needier, and you clenched around him without meaning to, dragging another choked groan from his throat. His forehead pressed against yours, sweat already slickening his brow as his entire body trembled with the effort of holding still. You could feel every muscle in him drawn tight, straining as if the only thing keeping him from completely losing control was his desperate attempt to give you time.

His breath came rough, uneven, his lips brushing yours when he whispered. “You feel unreal. Like you were made just for me.” The words made your chest squeeze, your nails digging into his back as you arched against him, urging him deeper even though he was already filling you to the hilt. Your body screamed for movement, for him to give in and wreck you the way you knew he wanted to, the way you were begging him to.

When you whimpered, rolling your hips against him, his control finally broke. He pulled out halfway before slamming back in, the force making the headboard slam against the wall. A cry ripped from your throat, your back arching off the mattress as he set a relentless rhythm, each thrust harder, deeper, sending shocks of pleasure tearing through you. The sound of skin slapping, the creak of the bed, your moans echoing through the room, it was downright filthy, desperate, everything you’d imagined and more.

He gripped your hips tight enough to bruise, pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t get deep enough. “Sweet girl,” He groaned, teeth dragging along your jaw. “You don’t know what you do to me, how could you ever think I didn’t want you.” His thrusts grew rougher, his restraint completely gone now, and you clung to him, every nerve in your body alight with fire. You were loud, so loud, unable to hold back the cries spilling from your lips as he fucked you into the mattress.

He swallowed some of them with messy kisses, his tongue tangling with yours, his moans rumbling deep in his chest every time your walls clenched tight around him. And for the first time, Clark Kent wasn’t careful, wasn’t a gentleman, wasn’t holding back. He was all-consuming, raw power and need, worshipping you with every thrust until the world beyond your bedroom ceased to exist. You were sure your neighbors were probably going to file a noise complaint, but in that moment you didn't care.

You felt as Clark shifted, one arm sliding beneath you like you weighed nothing, hitching your leg higher up his back. The change in angle had you screaming, the blunt head of his cock slamming into that sweet spot deep inside with every stroke. Your thighs trembled, trying to close around his massive frame, but he forced them apart, spreading you wide as if he needed to see just how much you were taking.

“Look at you,” He cooed, eyes dark and wild as they locked onto the way your body stretched around him. “So small… and taking me like such a good girl, so good.” His hips pounded harder, relentless, his huge body caging yours completely as he bottomed out again and again. The pressure built sharp and unbearable, your second orgasm crashing through you with a violent shudder. You screamed his name, clenching around him so tightly he nearly lost it right there, his head falling against your shoulder as he groaned your name like a prayer.

But he didn’t slow, he couldn’t. Every brutal thrust drove you higher, his cock splitting you open so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. The obscene wet sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, slick gushing down your thighs every time he bottomed out. One of his massive hands slid between your legs, rough fingertips circling your clit with ruthless precision that had your entire body jolting.

The other returned to your chest, palm squeezing your breast possessively, thumb flicking over your nipple before his mouth closed around it, teeth grazing, tongue laving. The triple assault was too much. You were wrung out, nerves frayed to raw wires, every sensation amplified until you couldn’t tell if you were begging for him to stop or to give you more. Broken sobs and shameless cries poured from your lips, your voice high and wrecked as he kept pounding into you, filling you so completely you had no choice but to take it.

"That’s it,” He growled against your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop, his teeth leaving a faint mark. “So tight around me, sweet girl, squeezing the life out of my cock.” His fingers pressed harder into your clit, relentless circles that had your hips bucking, trapped between his sheer weight and strength. The orgasm slammed into you with devastating force, the third one ripping through your over-stimulated body in hot, in relentless waves.

Tears streaked down your temples from the intensity as you sobbed out incoherent pleas, thighs trembling violently against his sides. Your core spasmed wildly around his cock, clamping down like a vice, milking him with every convulsion. His thrusts grew erratic, almost sloppy, as though your body was wringing every last drop of control from him. “Gonna make me lose my mind.” Your core was a mess, wet, swollen, stretched wide around his massive length.

The sight, the sound, the feel of you coming apart beneath him, it dragged him straight to the edge with you. His hips pistoned harder, rougher, desperate to bury himself deeper, as if he could carve himself into you permanently. Your body shook violently, every nerve overfiring as his thumb kept grinding into your clit, pushing you past the brink again, until your cries turned into hoarse screams.

“Clark!” Your final cry tore through the room as your body broke apart for the fourth time, clenching around him so tightly his whole frame shuddered. That was his undoing. His rhythm faltered, thrusts turning wild and desperate, until his hand found yours, fingers lacing tight against the sheets, as he drove in to the hilt one last time. His cock pulsed hard, flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum that spilled so deep you swore you could feel them inside your womb.

Pinned under his weight, stuffed so full you could barely think, you realized he meant it, Clark Kent was ruined for anything else. And frankly so were you. His body finally stilled, chest heaving as he slumped against you, forehead pressed into the crook of your neck. You could still feel him twitching inside, buried to the hilt, his release warm and heavy, seeping out around where you were joined. When he finally lifted his head, his expression nearly undid you more than the sex had.

His eyes had returned to their normal shade of blue, gentle and soft, as his thumb brushed over the damp streaks of tears on your cheeks. The feral edge from moments before was gone, replaced by that gentleness you were used to. “I love you so much, sweet girl. You did so good for me.” He praised, like every word was a prayer. He pressed a final kiss to your clavicle, lingering there, before slowly, so carefully, pulling out of you, mindful of the ache in your body.

The domesticity of it, the way his massive hands were so careful with you after just manhandling you into the mattress, made your heart squeeze. He slipped from the bed in all his naked glory, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admire the sight of his plump ass retreating toward the bathroom. He quickly came back with a damp towel, crouching at the edge of the bed, and his voice dropped into a soothing hum as he coaxed your legs open again.

“Shh, you’re okay, sweet girl, you’re perfect.” He murmured, peppering the inside of your knee with feather-light kisses as you hissed at the sensitivity. He cleaned you gently, as though you might break, his jaw flexing at every tiny flinch, until he was satisfied. The towel landed in the trash with a soft thud before he returned to you, brows still drawn. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His voice cracked with the question, his thumb brushing your thigh as though he was bracing for the worst.

God he was so adorable.

You quickly shook your head quickly, the smallest smile curving your lips as you reached out for him. “Just sore,” You reassured, as you made grabby hands at him. “But in the best way possible.” The tension drained from his shoulders instantly, a visible exhale of relief leaving his chest. That soft, boyish dimpled smile, broke across his face before he moved. He slipped back beneath the covers without hesitation, gathering you up with those impossibly strong arms pulling the covers over both of you.

He held you tight, your spent, sweaty body melting into his, his embrace so solid it felt like nothing could ever touch you as long as he was there. You hooked your thigh over both of his legs, anchoring yourself against him, and he shifted just enough to tuck you closer. His palm rested heavy and warm against the curve of your thigh, while the other threaded through your hair, blunt nails scratching softly over your scalp. The combination of that touch with the haze of your orgasms made your body slacken against his.

Every breath you released came easier, slower, your body slackening more against his with each passing second. A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Your finger traced circles and soft shapes across the planes of his abdomen, the skin there warm and damp, still humming with the remnants of exertion.

The intimacy of it, the simplicity of touching him like this, filled you with a deeper contentment than you’d ever thought possible. A soft laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it, muffled against his chest. You felt him shift, curious, the hand that had been lazily combing through your hair pausing. He tilted your chin up with infinite gentleness, blue eyes searching yours in a silent question.

“Who are you, and what have you done with that innocent farm boy I fell in love with?” You teased, your smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth as you tilted your head to meet his gaze fully. Color spread instantly across his cheeks, the tips of his ears flushing a vivid crimson. The powerful, unrelenting man who had just taken you apart so thoroughly was gone in an instant, replaced by the bashful Clark Kent you had fallen for.

He groaned ducking his head, burying his face against your neck to hide from your grin. “Wait, there he is.” You smiled, your voice warm with affection. Your fingers threaded through his tangled, sweat-damp curls, nails grazing his scalp in a soothing rhythm. His groan melted into a laugh against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, wrapping around your heart. He pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder before murmuring, muffled and earnest.

“Still the same man, sweetheart, who loves you just as much if not more." Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, your teasing fading into something softer. You curled closer, tucking yourself into his warmth as his arms tightened securely around you. When he finally lifted his head from your shoulder, you nudged your nose softly against his. You leaned forward and pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips, his answering hum was low and content, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Good night, sweet girl.” He whispered, the words so gentle they seemed to wrap around you like another blanket. His hand resumed its slow, steady strokes through your hair, coaxing another sigh of contentment from your lips. The rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek became a lullaby, grounding you in a way nothing else could. As your eyes slipped closed, you smiled against his skin considering yourself the luckiest girl in the world.

Lucky enough to know both the man who could move mountains and the boy who still flushed pink when you teased him. Lucky enough to hold every piece of him, his strength, his softness, his love, and call it yours. The world only ever saw fragments of Clark Kent. Some saw the farm boy with his easy smile, others glimpsed the impossible power that could bend steel and shatter stone.

But here, in the safety of your arms and tangled sheets, you got to see him whole. The way his dimple appeared when he laughed, the way his hands trembled when he thought he’d hurt you, the way his body and heart both gave themselves so completely when he loved. And that was the truth that made your chest ache as sleep pulled you under. You weren’t just in love with Superman, or the boy from Kansas. You were in love with all of him, every part he only ever entrusted to you.

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