peachmis

[peachmis]

FRIEND ZONE──CLARK KENT!

2025!clark kent x reader 1.4k fluff

!spoiler-free for the 2025 Superman movie!

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Clark didn’t like the term friend-zone. It implied some kind of entitlement over you that he didn’t like. But that's what Jimmy kept referring to it as.

“It wasn’t a friend-zone Jimmy,” Clark uttered, hiding away in a file left on his desk. 

The boy leaned against Clark’s desk, his own chair facing the man as he tried—and failed—to ignore him. 

“What were their exact words again?” 

Clark’s pencil hovered over the space for his next bunch of words, his train of thoughts halted as the image of you rushed to the forefront of his mind. 

‘Friends,’ you had asked so quietly, a battling hope hiding behind your eyes. Some confliction Clark couldn’t see. One you didn’t let him see. 

He surely remembered that feeling in his chest, working to burst through in an ugly word vomit. 

Elation was it? You didn’t hate him anymore (if you ever did). 

Or was it dismay? Was he imagining those fleeting moments between the two of you and you truly wanted to be friends. 

Relief? Everything would be going back to normal. 

Perhaps it was disappointment. Everything was going back to normal. Not the normal he got to relish in at the cinema. No, that normalness from you was reserved for Superman. 

It was a fine line Clark couldn’t quite balance on: the way you treated him, Clark Kent vs the way you treated his alter ego when no one was around to observe. 

Out of the many thrown at him, Clark could only decide on one word. 

“...Friends.”

Jimmy hissed in an almost mocking wince. “If you ask me, someone saying ‘friends’ after ghosting you for weeks is friendzone behavior.” 

Looking over, Clark could see Jimmy skimming through the pages of his own file, reading them with half an attention span, the other half indulging himself in Clark’s issues. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Clark defended. “They just wanted to apologize.” 

Jimmy hummed, brow lifting up in disbelief.

 “Plus,” Clark continued on, his voice cracking. “I never asked them out. They can’t reject or friendzone me if I don’t ask them out.” 

“That sounds like a skill issue.” 

With a sigh, Clark looked up from his work and back over to Jimmy, his attention lying somewhere between his files and an intern at another desk. “Is this where you give me the unwarranted advice or…” 

Jimmy turned to Clark, giving him a long look before shooting him a wide smile. “Nope. Just checking up on my favorite couple.” 

Jimmy was gone before Clark could even fully process his words, leaving his mouth open and confused. Unfortunately, you were there to fill in his space when the words finally settled properly in his brain. 

“Who’s Jimmy’s favorite couple?” 

Clark was known for being bumbling and clumsy, holding much irony for his rather burly figure. 

His reputation however did not cover for the stuttering mess he became at your sudden appearance. 

“The what,” he squeezed from the depths of his chest, his voice unnaturally high. 

“Jimmy’s favorite couple?” 

“Right! Right. It was umm…We were talking about that…show,” he wrinkled his nose as he tried to summon absolutely anything from his mind. “...Accomplices.” 

He wanted to kick himself in the face. 

You tilted your head at him, brows furrowing down in confusion. “Accomplices…sounds interesting.” 

“Yeah,” Clark scoffed in attempt to mask his stress. “Something about roommates, might be foreign.” 

You laughed, fiddling with your fingers before looking back up to him. “Well, I’m about to get lunch and I wanted to see if you wanted to come with.” 

Your shoulders squeezed up in a wince, marking the end of your question with a nervousness Clark didn’t always find with you. 

“Lunch,” Clark asked, his voice once more cracking. “With me?” 

You shrugged, feigning a cool head. “I’m not standing in front of Cat’s desk am I?” 

Clark’s eyes widened, his hands moving faster than his mind as he stood up and threw on his coat. “No, I mean, yes.” He paused, letting himself slow down and look you in the eye. “Lunch sounds nice.” 

“Great.” 

Clark had to wonder what entailed a date. 

The first thing that came to his mind was candlelit dinner, a nice restaurant, and a lively couple. He wasn’t sure if an impromptu yet planned coffee shop visit fit under that category. 

The only thing he was 100% sure of was that he wanted to curse Jimmy for planting the thoughts in his head in the first place. 

“Here,” you smiled, putting a mug down in front of the man. “I hope you like chocolate. Lois told me you did.” 

A million thoughts came at him, starting with the fact that his drink order somehow snuck into your conversation and ending with you ordering for him. 

“I could’ve paid for my own drink.” He looked up at you with wide, blue, and confused eyes that seemed to stab you in the heart with a sugar-poisoned blade. 

Clark Kent really was gonna be the death of you. 

“Consider it an ‘I’m sorry’ gift for…” you sighed, “everything.” 

“I thought I told you I forgave you a while ago.” 

“And I recall telling you that you’re too kind for this world,” you looked at him with tired eyes, yet with a genuine smile. “Drink your damn cocoa Kent before I take it back.” 

You watched as the man lifted his mug, a smile hidden behind it. “Agree to disagree then.”  

The dwindling of the work day came surprisingly fast. The bright afternoon light through the windows soon dimmed and the foot traffic through the building eventually slowed. 

 But that’s not what Clark noticed. Rather, he noticed the way you seemed to grow antsier as the day came to an end. Ever so often he’d look up and find you, checking your phone, whispering with Lois, or Jimmy. 

So when the office left only you and him the sound of your worrying seemed like speakers to his ears. The bouncing of your feet, tapping of a pencil on your desk. You sighing every time you looked from your phone to your screen. 

“Is something wrong?” 

You looked up at him with startled eyes. “Am I that obvious?” 

Clark tilted his head from one side to another in a half shrug. “Only to me.” 

You push out a laugh. “You’re the only other one here tonight.” 

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’re avoiding the question.” 

You roll your eyes with a smile, muttering lightly under your breath. “You and Lois are so alike.” 

A sigh pushed past your lips as you rolled your head back, a hand rubbing away the crick in your neck. “I’m just trying to figure something out. Family stuff. I tried to ask Lois for help, then Cat…then Jimmy,” you made a face. “Not much luck there.” 

Clark hummed in thought. “I can help…I think.” 

Your answer came quick, your nose scrunching up dismissively. “I can’t ask that of you, Clark.” 

You watched as his brows furrowed down in confusion, his lips in a matching frown. “Why not?” 

“It’s too weird. Plus I still owe you after how I’ve been these past few weeks. Asking you a favor on top of that would be shit friend behavior.” 

Clark only pursed his lips in thought. He looked at you quizzically, using the same eyes that seemed to single you out no matter the environment. Then, he rolled his chair over to you so that your knees touched one another. 

“How about this, since you still feel like you need to make things better, it would really make me feel better if I helped you.” 

At this point in your friendship you couldn’t tell if Clark Kent was a real person or some experiment the universe dropped on Earth to test the morality of humanity. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?” 

Clark only smiled his shy smile. “I’ve been told.” 

You felt his foot nudge yours, an odd silent signal of comfort. “Now what’s bothering you?” 

You sighed, one deep inhale and one deep exhale as you searched for the proper choice of words. Until you realized there was none. 

Some questions can only be ripped off like a bandaid: very quickly and with much regret.” 

“Will you be my boyfriend at my brother’s wedding?” 

“...what?”

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[peachmis]

National Kiss Your Boyfriend Until He’s Late for Work Day /Clark kent x reader

In which you wake up thoroughly obsessed with your boyfriend

The plan had formed before you were even fully awake.

Okay, maybe “plan” was too generous — it was more of a compulsion. The moment your eyes opened and found Clark sprawled beside you, one arm draped over his middle like a sleeping Adonis in flannel pajama pants, your brain went very still and thought:

Must. Kiss. Now.

You tried to be reasonable. You really did. After all, mornings in your apartment were normally a precision operation: you got up, showered, got halfway into your hair-and-makeup routine before breakfast, and only then allowed yourself the luxury of looking at your very distracting boyfriend.

But when you padded into the kitchen twenty minutes later and saw him — bed hair tamed just enough to still look a little mussed, Henley sleeves pushed up over his forearms, glasses sliding down his nose as he buttered toast — you knew the routine was dead in the water.

You crept up behind him like a cat stalking prey.

“Morning,” you said, leaning in before he could turn.

“Morning,” he replied, and you kissed his cheek before he even finished the word.

He blinked, startled, but smiled. “Well, that’s a nice start.”

You made a sound of agreement and kissed his jaw.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Clark said, sliding the toast onto a plate, “but… what’s gotten into you?”

You moved to the corner of his mouth, deliberately smudging a faint pink sheen there. “Nothing. I just like you.”

“You usually like me after coffee,” he teased.

“I like you before coffee,” you corrected. “Coffee just makes me faster.”

That earned a laugh — a low, warm rumble that only encouraged you. You kissed his other cheek. His temple. The tip of his nose.

“You’re going to make me burn breakfast,” he said, but he didn’t step away.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you murmured.

Clark tried to put down the butter knife and step around you, but you shadowed his movement like it was a dance. He reached for his bag; you caught his face in both hands and kissed him square on the lips.

“Okay…” He was definitely laughing now. “This is… more than usual.”

“It’s a holiday,” you said.

“It is?”

“Yes,” you said solemnly. “National Kiss Your Boyfriend Until He’s Late for Work Day.”

He tilted his head. “Funny, I don’t see that on the calendar.”

“It’s an underground holiday. Very exclusive.” Another kiss. “Very important.” Another kiss. “Mandatory participation.”

“Sounds serious,” he murmured, voice deepening as he leaned just slightly into the next kiss.

You grinned, triumphant. “The penalties for non-compliance are brutal.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Fewer pancakes.”

“Now that is serious,” he said, and you laughed against his mouth.

By now, you’d counted at least a dozen glossy marks scattered across his skin — cheeks, jaw, forehead, even one you’d sneaked under his ear. He didn’t seem to realize it yet.

Clark glanced at the clock and groaned. “I’m late.”

“That’s the point,” you said cheerfully.

He gave you one last quick kiss and ducked toward the door.

“Wait!” you called, half-laughing. “Don’t you want to check a mirror?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said over his shoulder. “See you tonight!”

You covered your mouth to smother the grin that spread across your face. Oh, you poor, oblivious man.

The Daily Planet — Twenty Minutes Later

Jimmy Olsen nearly dropped his camera. “Uh… Clark?”

Clark stopped at his desk, setting down his bag. “Morning, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “You, uh… have something on your face.”

Clark frowned and rubbed at his jaw. “Better?”

“Nope,” Jimmy said, smothering a laugh.

Before Clark could ask what he meant, Lois Lane appeared, carrying a stack of papers and muttering about deadlines. She looked up, took one glance at Clark, and froze.

“Oh my God,” she said flatly.

Clark blinked. “What?”

She set the papers down, pointing at him like she’d just caught him stealing office supplies. “Kent, you look like you got mauled by the lipstick aisle at Macy’s.”

Jimmy snorted. “It’s… actually kind of artistic.”

Clark’s confusion deepened. “Lipstick?” He looked around for a reflective surface and caught his reflection in the dark glass of the elevator doors. His eyes went wide.

“Oh no…”

“Oh yes,” Lois said, grinning now. “Tell your girlfriend she’s a genius.”

Jimmy grinned. “That’s dedication. She got both cheeks evenly.”

Clark sighed, pulling out a handkerchief. “I can’t believe she—” He stopped mid-sentence, because the truth was… yes, he could believe it. Completely.

Lois smirked. “That smile says you’re not even mad.”

He tried to school his face into neutrality. Failed instantly.

Back at the Apartment

You were halfway through curling your hair for the morning broadcast when your phone buzzed.

You’re in trouble.

A second buzz.

Lois says hi.

You snickered, typing back: Tell her I said thanks.

His reply came a minute later: Jimmy took a picture. You��re never living this down.

You grinned at your reflection. Totally worth it.

---

@animegamerfox @sapphichotmess

[peachmis]

to whoever is writing tons of clark kent/superman x reader fics and having it appear on my feed: THANK YOU I HAVE A HUGE HYPER-FIXATION NOW. time to watch superman again 🥀

[peachmis]

Just read big blue by @honeybunnyale chubby Clark got meeeee

[peachmis]

suckable

summary: a routine fire alarm inspection leads into you proving to clark that he does have a suckable dick (kinda.)

tags: 18+, smut, roommate!clark, established friendship, f!reader, i broke clois up (sorry,) clark is older than reader (non-specific,) reader doesn't know clark is superman, fire alarm inspections, clark kent is a DORK, reader just barely realizes she has a crush on clark, blowjob, messy blowjob, big dick!clark, big boobs!clark, big arms!clark, sub!clark, size difference (sorta?), m!nipple play, reader swallows but there's also kind of a facial, begging for like two seconds, sweet!clark, aaannd he picks reader up one time.

a/n: yayy my first clark fic !!! (facedown drooling twitching)

wc: 4.5k, reread once by my eyes

my masterlist - my askbox

You’ve been roommates with Clark for approximately… seven months. 

It’s been great really. No complaints, especially since he’s never home long enough to be annoying. He does the dishes, he takes the trash and recycling down every Thursday, and he usually makes enough food that there’s leftovers for your lunches the next day. The friendship between you two is easy, but not intimate. Clark, to you, is personable, but not personal.

You do know that he moved in with you after moving out with his ex girlfriend, and that the relationship ended as amicably as possible for “professional reasons.” Clark also works at the Daily Planet and being a writer may or may not be why he needs a roommate in his thirties. He grew up somewhere not Metropolis to your knowledge and he goes back home usually one weekend a month. 

And that’s it. That’s all you know about your roommate of seven months. It’s kind of nice to live with a dependable man, especially when he’s not just kind but also sort of intimidating. Your last roommate was a young woman around your age, and though she was fun, you were always a little worried about the weird neighbor down the hall. He really liked talking to you when you’d take the recycling down, or god forbid, when you’d have to do your laundry in the basement of your building. As soon as Clark found out about that he made a point to start taking the trash down for you and coming with you to do your laundry. The weirdo neighbor backed off pretty quickly when you began walking around with a 6’4 grown man who gave him the stink eye any chance he got. 

Obviously you’d rather be living alone, or with a romantic partner, but neither of those things seem like they’re in your cards at this point. Clark is a good alternative. You get plenty of alone time when you have a day off since Clark is at work until five most days, and on top of that sometimes he goes out with his friends. Alternatively to the time you get to spend alone, you also get to feel just a smidge safer at night. Metropolis is nowhere near as dangerous as Gotham is, at least not at night, but you can never be totally sure. Superman can handle whatever huge creature is toppling buildings over, but you can’t really call Superman if there’s someone trying to break into your apartment. You can call Clark though, or rather, knock on his door. Usually.

Tonight Clark is out. He’s actually out a lot later than usual, which is strange. He said something vague this morning about having to go to a meeting later tonight with his friends after work and he’d “be back aroumd smghmsgh.” His voice muffled at the end of his sentence because he had stuffed a cinnamon swirl eggo in his mouth. Helpful! 

Around ten you finally peel yourself off the couch. It feels strange to get ready for bed without Clark being around. You aren’t dependent on him, but like, it’s routine by now. You brush your teeth, he brushes his teeth, and then you both go to bed. Sometimes he showers, but that’s not your business to think about. At all. Clark is your friend and roommate. Your kind, dependable, tall, handsome, buff, protective, roommate. You walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water, telling yourself you aren’t prolonging the time before you get ready for bed sans-Clark.

The water pools in the sink as you run the tap for a moment before sticking your glass under. It fills a little too quickly. You chug it, pour more water in the glass, then let your eyes flit to the overhead cupboards. A notice is taped to one of them, one which you taped up. 

NOTICE: Fire alarm inspection

Dear valued tenants,

This coming Saturday the MFD (Metropolis Fire Department) will be entering your apartments to test your fire alarms. These tests will happen between 8am-11am. If you are unable to be present this Saturday please let me know by e-mail so we can rearrange a time. 

Thanks.

Ugh. Your landlord is a nice person but is it necessary to start fire alarm testing at 8am on a Saturday? You were kind of hoping Clark would get home early tonight so he could be the one to let the fire department in tomorrow morning, but you guess not. He’s going to end up sleeping in late if he’s not home soon, so you better set your alarm. 

— 

It’s 7:59am. And they’re already here. 

You had woken up to a strong knock on the door of your apartment that had you gasping for breath as you stumbled out of bed, throwing a more presentable shirt on. Thank God the fireman that you opened the door to looked worse for wear than you did. If you had opened the door to a sexy fireman while wearing your somewhat holey Snoopy sleepshirt, which you’ve had since middle school, you might have lit yourself on fire to test the alarm.

Now you’re sitting on the couch backwards, staring at the fireman as he stands on a ladder in the kitchen. You’re kind of wondering if the fire department needs to do this. You’re pretty sure Clark could check the fire alarm without using a ladder, which you’re tempted to tell the fireman, but he seems nice enough. It’s just early, you’re grumpy. 

“I’ve been doing this for almost a decade now,” the fireman says. You hum in an interested tone, watching as he uses a screwdriver to unscrew the panel of the fire alarm. It falls down into his other palm and he checks the batteries.

“Expired,” he says disapprovingly.

Okay fire alarm guy. 

He takes a couple batteries out of his shirt pocket and replaces the old batteries. Then he screws the panel back on. It kind of feels like watching you dad or uncle fix something, which would be sweet if you weren’t sleep deprived and annoyed that somehow this guy made his way to your fourth floor apartment before these tests were even supposed to start. 

The fireman puts his screwdriver back into his toolbelt and then looks back at you from where he’s standing on the ladder. 

“Might be loud,” is the only warning you get.

A shrill beep screeches through the apartment as he presses the “test” button on the alarm. It wakes you up all over again, making you jolt upwards. You’re close to cussing, but then you hear a different loud noise. Two loud thuds echo from behind Clark’s bedroom door.

Oh shit, he was still sleeping.

A couple more thuds sound out before Clark’s door is ripped open. There’s a wild look to him as his chest puffs anxiously.

“Fire?” He asks at the same time the fireman says “alarm works now!” Proud as ever.

No, there’s no fire. But it’s starting to get warm. 

You’ve never seen Clark straight out of bed. Typically he showers at night, after you go to bed, so that you can have the bathroom in the mornings. That means that by the time you see him each morning he’s already dressed for work, curls tamed, and he’s all put together. Right now though, he’s the least put together you’ve ever seen him.

His hair is somewhat screwed up, the curls flat on one side of his head from how he sleeps, and his glasses are a little crooked from how hastily he must have shoved them on. Clark is also shirtless, which is surprising. You kind of took Clark as the kind of man who has old fashioned cotton pajama sets considering he wears a suit to work everyday. You very much wish he was right now.

Clark is obviously a strong guy. He’s got great arms that you’ve been able to admire multiple times over the last seven months, and sometimes you’re able to see how big his chest is when his dress shirts strain just right. But right now, you’re getting a full view of everything, and he’s so, terribly, attractively, big. Clark’s arms are much bigger than you thought they were, but so is everything else. His stomach pushes against the stretchband of his pajama pants just right, making you think of the time that he had shared the fact that “Ma fed me well,” over dinner. Fuck yes she did. Thanks Ma. His stomach looks dense with strength, like he’s been bulking his whole life, and his tits… Lord. Never in your life have you ever thought that a man having tits could be attractive, but Clark Kent doesn’t seem to be able to be unattractive. They look heavy and the skin looks soft and for a split second you think about what it would be like to run your hands up his body and cup them. 

You notice that you’re staring at him, but he doesn’t. Instead, Clark seems to realize that the guy in your apartment isn’t an intruder, but is actually checking the fire alarm. He walks over quickly, and in typical Clark fashion, strikes up a conversation with this guy. He’s distracted fully, giving you more time to kind of drool over the new angle you’re getting of his arms.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. You’ve purposefully been avoiding being attracted or generally objectifying Clark no matter what because when he moved in with you he was sorely broken up over his last relationship ending. Clark was much too sweet for you to think about in that way, no matter how delicious he is to stare at. But it’s been months now, and he seems more okay, and damn it he’s shirtless and it’s 7:30 in the morning and you’re pissed! You deserve a little eye candy, no? 

You let your eyes drop back to his stomach as he stands while talking to the fireman. The profile of his tummy almost hanging over the waistband is making your whole body heat up, but then your eyes drop lower and it gets worse.

He’s not wearing underwear.

There’s literally no possible way that he’s wearing anything beneath the pajama pants. You can see the outline of what you think is morning wood, but you aren’t entirely sure. If he had a boner that big right now he wouldn’t just be casually talking to a stranger in your apartment, right? But then again, there’s no way he’s packing something that much. It wouldn’t be human to be that big soft. He must just be oblivious. Fuck, you’re perving out right now.

It’s pressing against the plaid pattern of his pants in a way that maybe is camouflaged to the poor fireman who now looks like he’s trapped in a conversation with Clark. You watch as the fireman slowly packs up his ladder and moves unsubtly toward the door in an attempt to drop a hint that Clark isn’t picking up. It, yes it, isn’t camouflaged to you though. You watch from the couch as his pants tent around it, the thickness of it pressing against his leg as he moves toward the door with the fireman. Sweat starts to form at your brow as you swallow dryly. 

Maybe his last girlfriend just couldn’t stand the hospital trips after they had sex? That’s the only plausible reason you can see someone dumping Clark. He’s suffering from the success of all those inches. 

The fireman finally shuts down the conversation Clark had started with a gentle “I have to go test other alarms now,” and slips out the door. Clark turns to you now, still clearly oblivious to the third leg he seems to be showing off.

“I totally forgot about that inspection, geez.”

You are braindead. His words don’t even seem like words anymore as you get another full frontal view of his less-than-normally-clothed body and the inside of your skull feels fuzzy. It’s too early for all of these emotions of frustration and then sudden insatiable heat. Maybe you’re getting close to ovulating or something, but Clark is triggering you badly.

“Are you hard?” You ask.

Clark instantly reaches his hands down, covering his crotch.

“What? No, I just– I just threw these on. They must be too small.” He sputters. 

Just threw those on? Your brows scrunch together in confusion. If he just threw those on before coming out of his room and he’s not wearing anything else (other than his glasses…)

“I sleep naked,” Clark admits flusteredly. Your eyes widen just as your mouth hangs slightly open in surprise. This is not something that you thought Clark would ever say, nor admit if it was the case. His ears are turning pink as his hands cover his crotch area still, though you doubt he’s actually covering all the square footage of his downstairs property. 

“I started sleeping naked when I moved away from home. It was like a freedom thing, I think.”

Oookay. Coolio. Packing that tidbit of info into your brain and saving it for later when Clark isn’t home and you have a certain something charged. You nod with your mouth still open, then swallow back the dryness on your tongue before speaking again.

“Why do you…” you start speaking but then he moves toward the couch and your voice trails off. He sits opposite you, looking a little ashamed as he shoves a pillow over his lap. “Why do you still sleep naked?”

He can’t make eye contact with you now, he’s too embarrassed. It almost seems like he never really thought about the fact it might be strange to still sleep naked, and now he has to face the music. 

“Clothes just… restrain stuff,” he admits quietly. 

Stuff.

“Stuff?” You reply. “What stuff?

He shakes his head, says your name quietly like he wishes you’d forget this. “You know what stuff. My stuff.”

This is insane. There’s no way he’s that big all the time. That’s not something you believe. 

“You’re seriously not… that’s not just morning wood or something?” 

Clark shakes his head again and seems even more embarrassed now. His fists push into the throw pillow on his lap nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “I know it’s strange. Or scary, I’ve been called scary.”

Aw. You feel kind of bad for him amidst all your curiosity about this newfound limb on your roommate. The best comfort you can offer in this awkwardness is a shrug.

“It’s okay, Clark,” you attempt a normal voice, “it’s just a surprise.” 

He laughs quietly, thank goodness. His smile is always a ray of sunshine but right now it breaks up the insanity of the situation. “Golly, it’s a surprise to you? Imagine growing this thing,” he chuckles. Like it’s normal.

The honesty is somehow scarier than the fact that his dick is really that big. That’s just Clark’s life, he has to have that in his pants all the time, and now you have to know that he has that in his pants all the time too. What the fuck? What is this morning?

Clark finally works up the courage to look at you again, though you can still see the remnants of his flustered expression from moments before. His eyes stroll over your face and he seems to realize your befuddlement. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. You raise your head to nod, but then feel the tug of a question caught in your throat. 

“How big is it?” You ask. The tables turn again and Clark is back to being the one caught off guard. He sputters some breaths and attempts words but you shrug. “I’ve already basically seen it, Clark. I’m just curious.”

The last thing you say seems to ease him some more, as silly as it is. It’s true, you’ve basically seen the outline of the whole thing now, so he has less reason to be shy. Clark, again, nods. Then he picks the pillow up off his lap and places it on the ground beside his feet. This gives you a chance to see the way his stomach pouts out from his body while he sits, and the way his tits sit. They still look so soft, but you can’t make Clark any more uncomfortable than he already is, so you try your best to maintain eye contact.

“Eight and a half inches,” he manages to spit out. God, he sounds ashamed of it. Why is he ashamed? 

You gawk at him. “I don’t even think I could fit half of you in my mouth.”

Why did you say that? Oh my god, why did you say that? 

“That’s… fair. Nobody ever has,” Clark admits shyly. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

It sounds like a challenge. Your eyes drop back to his lap, searching for a moment until you can finally focus on the visible outline against the worn fabric of his pajamas. 

“I could try,” you suggest. Clark’s head tilts down a little as he tries to meet your eyes that are currently feasting on the sight of his lap. He starts to say “what” but you stumble out more words. “Like just to see. Not in a sex way, but in an experimental way. Just to see.”

He seems a little speechless, his mouth forming the shapes of words that don’t come out, seldom for a shocked whisper of your name. Clark swallows the saliva in his mouth and then  leans back against the couch, nodding.

“Not in a sex way,” he repeats as you slide off the couch and maneuver yourself between his legs. “Aw geez.”

Stupid cute man with a stupidly big cock. You aren’t technically breaking the “roommate rule” of don’t-fuck-your-roommate at least. You’re not fucking him, you are both just trying to see how much of Clark’s dick is humanly possible to suck. 

He lifts his hips for you as your hands reach up and slide his pants down his legs, pulling them off with little struggle. It exposes his thighs to you, the hair that feathers out from his pubic area into a softer dusting around the outer area where his dick lays. It’s too heavy to even stand up on its own, it just lays against his thigh. He’s uncut but the foreskin is pulled back slightly, exposing the deep pink of his tip and how it’s starting to drool pre-come. 

“Sorry, it’s um, been a bit. I’m a shower so don’t worry about,” he swallows nervously again, “about it getting any bigger than this.”

It is a little comforting to know you won’t have to deal with any more than you signed up for, but mostly you just want to soothe him. Clark seems so ashamed of how big he is, which isn’t totally unfamiliar. He always seems awkward in social situations, like a mega block in a world of lego bricks, but this is something you can help. You’ll prove to him that he is suckable.

But you’ll prove it in a moment. First you focus on what your mind, what’s left of it, wants to do.

You lean down and nudge your nose against the side of his cock, inhaling a little bit. He smells clean, just like the rest of him, but also a little different, a little more Clark than everywhere else. Your eyes meet his as you let your tongue loll out of your mouth and drag up his shaft, then lap at his tip as his head falls backward.

“Y-you said it wasn’t a sex thing,” he protests weakly. 

“It isn’t,” you protest. It’s not a total lie. “I’m making sure you’re as hard as possible. You have to be fully hard for me to–” “Please just put your mouth on me,” he blurts out. “Please? You wanna figure this out too, right?”

Holy needy. You weren’t really expecting Clark to be this submissive. He’s probably just desperate because, as he said, it’s been a little while, but he’s already begging. 

“Yeah,” you mumble against his tip, “yeah okay.”

He’s so much more than a mouthful. You were expecting it to be a lot, but you can’t breathe at all once his tip is fully in his mouth. Clark isn’t just long, but he’s thick too. It feels like you bit off more than you could chew, literally, and you’re just desperately swallowing around him. It’s especially hard to focus on not choking because he keeps making these little sounds and grasping at the arm of the couch. Clark clearly doesn’t want to push you at all. The hand that isn’t on the arm of the couch is gripping the couch cushion ferociously and his hips keep trying to buck up but he resists it, though just barely.

It isn’t a sex thing, it’s an experiment, you need to focus.

Your eyes slide shut as you decide to lock in, tuning out the noises and movements he’s making. Most of your focus goes into relaxing your jaw to fit more of him in. You know you’ll ache later, but it’s worth it. He’s so heavy in your mouth and in your hands as you hold him. The wetness of your mouth doesn’t seem to be enough and so you keep drooling out more and more saliva, trying to lube your throat so he’ll slide in easier, with less resistance. It doesn’t feel humanly possible, he’s completely right.

You attempt to say his name, but just gargle around his cock. He struggles back a “yeah?” and that’s when your eyes open again.

You’re far enough down on his dick now that when you open your eyes and look up at him, you’re met with a slight underside view of his stomach and tits. Clark looks back down at you with clouded eyes and a sweaty brow, meeting your own accidental doe eyes. It’s hard not to look pathetic and needy when you have a dick in your mouth, it’s just what happens. You maintain eye contact as you work your throat, attempting to open it up more to take him further and he whines while looking into your eyes. 

Clark breathes your name once, then shuts his eyes tight as his chest heaves.

“Are you trying t-to make me come?” He asks. His voice sounds pained, but his cock throbs in your mouth as he asks the question.

Well, are you?

He looks close already, even more wrecked than five minutes ago when this “experiment” began. Obviously you want him to come, you’re sucking his dick for gods sake, but he’s just making sure. He’s just being good and making sure that he’s allowed to come. The two of you are losing any inhibitions about this pretense of an experiment and you’re ready to fully let loose.

You can’t respond to his question without pulling off his cock, and you sure as hell don’t want to lose the progress you’ve made on his length, so instead you give in. Reaching up from the floor with your hand, you trail your fingers up his body and then cup his left tit in your hand. His breath catches as he looks down at what you’re doing, and that’s when you rub your thumb over his nipple. It hardens immediately and he lets out a rough moan as you nod, resuming bobbing your head up and down his cock. 

Yes you’re going to make Clark come. You want to make this big, delicious, kind, man come his brains out, either in your mouth or on you, or both.

Whatever efforts you were making previously tenfold as you start to start to jerk off whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your free hand, the other one still entirely focused on groping the soft fat of his breast and toying with his nipple. Clark starts to let his hips buck up more as he begins to repeat your name, whining each time you stimulate his nipple just right. Drool leaks out of your mouth and onto your balls as you let the back of your throat get pummelled relentlessly. It feels like your brains are melting in your head each time you feel him throb or taste him leaking a little more pre-come. “I’m gonna come,” Clark warns. He says it again, but makes no move to pull you off him. 

Your eyes meet his with some sense of determination, and you hope the bob of your head and the nod of your head don’t look too similar as you try to reply with a nod of “yes, yes, come.” The message, thankfully, is received. Your hands work relentlessly to stimulate him fully through his orgasm as he spills down your throat. You try to keep up with swallowing but it starts to feel like if you don’t pull off of him you’re going to have come drip out of your nose. Finally you jerk back, watching as his cock doesn’t slow down at all, shooting ropes not just on your face and neck, but dripping onto his own thighs too. He’s so noisy as he comes, on top of all the things in motion he’s moaning your name and thanking you.

“Thank you, thank you,” he whimpers, “m sorry it’s such a mess.”

It is such a mess. You didn’t take into account that him having a big dick might mean him having bigger balls, which you certainly won’t neglect if the two of you ever do this again, but now he’s coming so much. Some of it is already half dried on your sleepshirt by the time he’s finished.

Clark’s head rolls back again, his legs falling even further apart, as he catches his breath. He has half a mind to hand you the pants you peeled off him earlier, apologizing for not being able to clean you up properly. It’s a sweet gesture, and you’ll excuse his lack of aftercare since it seems like he just emptied his entire bloodline down your face and shirt. After somewhat cleaning the come off you, you’re surprised as he lifts you up onto the couch, moving his spent cock out of the way so you can sit on him. 

“Thank you,” he says again, pushing his nose against your shoulder, “sorry I ruined your experiment.”

It seems that despite what just happened, Clark will always be the considerate, sweet, guy that he’s always been during his time as your roommate. His breath is soft against your shoulder as his eyes flutter and look down.

“And sorry for ruining your shirt.” 

A giggle pushes its way through your chest and past your aching jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll just take off my shirt next time we try.”

Clark’s posture goes a little rigid at the mention of a next time. He pulls his nose away from your shoulder and looks at you a little curiously. “Next time?” 

You’re quick to respond, shrugging it off casually to avoid the many questions and considerations you’re sure Clark will chatter away at you once his brain rebuilds itself from his orgasm.

“Yeah, next time. I only fit like… half of you in my throat. I think I can do better than that,” you say defiantly. Clark huffs a laugh of disbelief out. “I just need more practice.”

“More practice. Sure,” he agrees softly.

>///<

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[peachmis]

He's a nervous guy

[peachmis]

OH MAN I- NO WORDS JUST AMAZING

Breeding Program l C.K. & L.L.

w.c: 5.7k

t.w.: Dark-ish fic, Smut, P in V, Oral f receiving, Sex pollen Dub-con/Non-con, Voyeurism, Cucking,  Breeding kink (forced pregnancy), Lactation kink (brief), LuthorCorp Secretary!Reader, Mentions of Ultraman x Reader (one-sided), Lex Luthor x Superman (also one-sided and psychotic), Cum play/eating, Reader has glasses, slight spoilers, fuck or die!, angst

a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works. 18+ only!

Summary: Ultraman wasn’t as successful as he expected. Lex Luthor is hoping to breed something new to defeat his nemesis, no matter how long the process may take. 

Cloning didn’t work. Ultraman was stupid. Incompetent. A failure. 

But he liked you. Lex Luthor would watch as he leaned closer to you. It made you uncomfortable, clear by the way you shifted on your feet and avoided his pointed gaze. 

Lex trusted you in maintaining him. You’d lead him, after hours, to his room, to the shower, to eat. You were his caretaker in a way.  Reluctantly so.  

The clone’s base instincts clearly indicated attraction judging by the hard ons he would openly display as he bathed with you standing by the door to ensure he wouldn’t make a mess. 

It gave Luthor an idea, an idea that would ensure the next Superman “clone” would be as perfect as possible. 

Luthor would pay you handsomely for the trouble. You who kept most of his secrets, you who he sends enough flowers to fill up your apartment, you who he has special meetings with while his girlfriend was off on a shopping spree. 

He almost feels tenderly towards you. You were a perfect candidate. 

…

You bounce on his lap, sinking onto his prick as he leaned back on his office chair. Peering at you as if you were on your knees and praying to him. 

You grunt quietly, he watches as you get yourself off, as he does nothing to help. 

Your fingers glide diligently over your cunt, the squelching sounds making you whimper as your clit throbs between your fingers. 

He’s not good at sex, he likes having it, likes getting himself off. But he is not inept at pleasuring others. 

You’re fine with it. No one has ever made you finish anyway. You only needed his dick. Like a dildo. 

You grind your hips against his pelvis, his cock pushes in deep as you pulse around him, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder in a stifled final moan. 

He grips your hips as he pulses inside of you, you groan at the action. He always pulls out. You give him a look as you stand, he pulls your panties up against your cunt and pats your ass. 

“Keep it in.” 

You snort, he raises a brow, wondering where the joke was in his tone. Thank goodness for birth control. You’d rather die than have his demonic children. Even more spoiled brats and the world's riches would be divided within the Luthor family entirely. 

“Remember what the goal is today…” he says as he points a teasing finger at you. 

You nod as you straighten your pencil skirt and button up your shirt. Your hands drag against the wood of his desk to swipe your glasses teasingly. 

“I’m ready.” 

…

Being jostled around the air was irritating to say the least. The clone repeatedly evaded Superman’s moves, causing you to be caught midair several times. One second Ultraman, the other Superman. 

It was like tug of war, except instead of rope, your body was being pulled every which way. 

Another frightening possibility you didn’t think of before was that hands slip, butterfingers, people fumble. 

Superman drops you. You imagine Lex having a laugh. 

Superman apologizes as he recatches you, hands tight on your waist as he turns swiftly to take a hit to his back. You could see the way he grits his teeth and shut his eyes from the pain, the way his hands tightened over your body as he cocooned you. 

You get it, you realize. Despite the obvious threats around him, his focus was on protecting you, the civilian. It made your chest warm. You almost coo from how selfless he was. 

He flees from Ultraman, disguised as a villain of the week, in an attempt to put you down in a safe location. 

“You ok?” 

You grip onto his shoulders fearfully, feeling the taught muscle underneath. You get those who swoon. He was even bigger in person. 

You nod slowly, eyes wide, a hand pressing your glasses to your face to keep them from flying off. 

“Yea-“ 

It was like a train had hit him, the impact of the clone ramming into his side so strong it caused him to lose his grip on you. Again.

Jealousy you briefly wonder, you’re sure Lex didn’t tell him to do that. You’ve never seen that move before. 

You each go in opposite directions. You could hear Superman scream out a sharp no as you’re free falling in the air. 

The genuine concern won him points by you again. 

You think about Lex. About the way he practically begged you to accept the role as victim for his latest scheme. 

You’d slap him the next time you see him. 

Your attempts to scream are tampered by the rush of air, you couldn’t breathe in or out, the rush of adrenaline making it hard to focus on the action as you see the pavement inch closer. 

And suddenly you’re in someone’s arms again, held tightly against their chest. You take a harsh breath in, the rush of oxygen making your lungs burn.

Your eyes stayed unfocused from your lack of lenses. You look behind you to find metal armor facing right back at you. You sigh. 

You’re shaking as you’re deposited to the floor of the lab, located near a small town west of the city of Metropolis. 

Ultraman dropped you unceremoniously, making your knees buckle and causing you to fall. 

You glare up at him, narrowing your eyes as he refuses to look your way. Unlike him. He was most definitely jealous. 

Several lab techs surround you and Ultraman briefly to assess damages. They find none, they leave quickly, leaving you to reorient yourself in your lonesome. 

You stand, wiping your hands down your skirt as you grumble about the lack of adequate patient care they offered you.

You try the door closest to you, it was locked. For a moment you stare at it dumbfoundedly. This was supposed to be where Luthor was entrapping Superman. There was a bed in the middle of the room, a toilet to the side. This was a prison. 

Surely someone was coming to get you, or one of the doors will lock once Superman arrives. 

You try the other door, locked. You knock. Your polite knock turns into a slam of your palm. You shout that you couldn’t get out. That you needed to get out. That you were starting to freak out. 

You could hear metal bend. Superman was here. You shook the door knob desperately. 

“Lex!” 

The pounding was getting louder, you could hear his grunts as he attempted to make his way to you. To “save” you. 

What would he do once he found out you planned to imprison him for testing, then undoubtedly kill him afterwards. 

The sound of the panels behind you, curling in his hands like cardboard, made you think he wouldn’t be too happy. 

You turn your back against the door, chest rising and falling with each breath as he breaks himself into his own doom. He takes a breath of relief at finding you unharmed. His eyes scan over your form as he jogs forward, hand gently holding your glasses out to you. 

You take them shakily, placing them on to see his soft smile clearly. He puts his hand on your shoulder, your expression terrified. 

“You’re going to be ok.” 

Alarm bells ring, the room turns red and walls appear, layers and layers of metal sliding atop each other, just to stall him for the next part. 

You swallow thickly and shake your head in denial. There must have been a mistake, you weren’t supposed to be in here, no one other than him was. You were fucked. You step away from him, he looks around the room in confusion. 

The size of the room is cut in half by the strongest metal Luthor could find. Superman could easily punch his way out, but the amount of punches would be too much for him to get out in time. 

A greenish fog fills up the room. He reacts quickly, tugging you from the wall and covering his mouth with his hand, as if urging you to copy the action. 

“Hold your breath, I’ll get us out of here.” 

You stare at his back, hands at your sides, as he turns to pull his hand back and hit the wall. What a beautiful idiot. 

He didn’t realize that with each layer he destroyed more and more gas was being pumped into the room. It made you feel lightheaded. 

You stay put in the middle of the room, legs turning weak and arms barely holding you up against the bed. Superman calls for you to follow him, almost desperately as he feels himself weakening. 

He holds his breath, he could hold it for several minutes. But he was barely leaving a dent now. 

“Don’t breathe it in!” he shouts. It didn’t matter. The smog could be absorbed through the skin anyway. 

You fall to your knees. He stops and rushes to you. He could see that he wasn’t as close to breaking out as he liked. 

He could only think of one thing. Kryptonite. It was making him feel almost anemic. He starts to shake. But he didn’t feel any pain. He felt a strange rush go through his body.

“Don’t-“ you wheeze out as he kneels over you, hand coming up to touch your shoulder. 

The more you inhale the more you feel the effects of the gas. Your stomach clenches, your clothes feel suffocating, your skin sensitive. 

Lex said it was going to debilitate him. Make him bend to his knees and writhe. 

He grips your bicep, to stabilize you. 

Your sharp moan made the hero freeze. It was sensual, pornographic. Not of pain or agony. His breath stutters at the sound, he feels himself start to sweat, his face heating up impossibly in embarrassment and something else. 

What the hell did Lex put in this damn cell? 

Your stomach cramps. You could hear the room speaker turn on with a sharp crack. Superman stands, looking around the room, attempting to find it. 

“Hello, Superman.” 

“Luthor,” he says as a response, sounding tired, almost bored of the other man’s voice already. 

“Why don’t you or your people ever show themselves?” he asks after a moment, looking up towards the corner, knowing that a camera was pointed right at him. 

“I’m closer than you think.” 

Superman’s brows furrow. He turns to you and shrugs his shoulders with an incredulous look, obviously mocking Luthor’s ominous tone and words. You look away in shame, his face falls as you cower away from him. 

“Oh! I didn’t introduce you to my secretary. Say hi to my secretary. Isn’t she cute? Great actor too.” 

Superman’s eyes connect with yours and you pant as you drag yourself to the far wall. His eyes sharpen and his brows furrow, so deep creases formed in his perfect friendly face. The hint of a smile, gone. He was clearly upset by the setup. 

“What did you do?” he asked, voice raised. He stares directly at you, eyes roaming over your body. 

You’re not sure who he speaks to. Lex or you. By Lex’s snort, he assumes it was to him. 

“Do you feel it?” Lex’s voice reverberated around the small enclosure, you bite your lip to hold in a whimper. 

Your breath comes out in short pants. You feel your thighs slicken, each shift highlighting the fact that there was now a building dampness underneath you.

“It’ll take a while to set in for you.” 

You rock your hips, Superman watches you curiously. You fight the urge to press your hand between your legs. You turn in your embarrassment, your nipples were so hard they stung and pointed out against the fabric of your shirt. 

You press your face against the cool wall, it gives you brief relief. Another cramp in your lower belly hits you, you shake and groan. 

“It’s already set in for her. You’ll see soon enough.” 

He could smell your arousal, he exhaled shakily as he felt a warmth travel through his spine at your twitches and small noises. His eyes start to roam over your body, the way your back arches lightly, your ass curving out against the fabric of your skirt, now showing a growing spot of wetness. 

He licks his lips before refocusing. 

“What did you do?” he shouts with force. 

“Don’t worry, it’s harmless.” 

Superman looks at you, your back to him, he steps forward before stopping. His stomach tightens, his mouth salivates, and he feels his briefs tighten against his growing heavy bulge. 

His eyes were intense, pupils fighting between expanding and constricting. He holds a hand up, as if to calm you, maybe even calm himself. 

“You’ll be fine-“ he attempts shakily. His knees wobble. 

“Oh. She will die,” Lex’s voice cuts sharply, humorously. 

You moan out into the air, your skin prickles and itches. You refuse to look away from the corner, you didn’t want to give Lex the satisfaction of your tears, your panic. 

“You require the dosage of an elephant. I had to make sure it worked.” 

Your lower stomach tightens so much the rest of your body locks into place. You feel a rush like no other and yelp as the feeling makes your cunt’s walls constrict around nothing. Your body trembles in sweet erotic pulses, you pant openly as the rush fades into a low simmer. 

Did you just have a mini orgasm? 

“She needs an antidote, luckily for you Superman, you have plenty of it.” 

The comm clicks as it turns off. You groan as you flop against the metal floor, facing the ceiling, body spread out like a starfish. You could feel his heated gaze, he looked furious, huffing out like a bull ready to charge.

Lex had been testing weird shit on the clone. He’d figured this chemical out a couple of months ago. It affected hormones, made the body crave another. 

It wasn’t as bad as this. It wasn’t as intense. 

Sure, Ultraman had humped your leg when you were trimming his hair but you’re sure he never felt as if he were dying. 

Then again, Kryptonians, clone or not, wouldn’t be affected as fast as humans. You had a feeling this time would be different, you could see Superman pace back and forth, running a shaky hand through his locks almost pulling on it as his chest stutters with each gulp of air. 

“Bodily fluids,” you gasp.

A kiss made it better, Lex made you kiss the clone, on the cheek, to test it out. Lex had a boner as he watched the interaction. The freak.

He kissed the clone himself afterwards, right on the lips, to see which method worked best, according to him. Tongue on tongue worked the best for pacifying the chemical. 

You were used to seeing Superman’s face. You just weren’t used to him being able to speak back to you. He turns sharply towards you, he growls. 

“Don’t test me.” 

You roll your eyes, your body was shaking, your heart beating so fast you were starting to feel lightheaded. He could see your heart, so fast he fears you’re going to pass out at any moment now. 

Worse, you might get into cardiac arrest. He sighs in frustration. 

He kneels beside you, sitting you up against the wall roughly, pressing your shoulders into the metal despite your discomfort. 

The touch makes you shiver, you hold back a moan. He cages you in with his arms, hands planted on either side of you. 

“What can we do?” 

You lick your lips, and he follows your tongue with his eyes. His stomach flexes and he grunts. 

“It helps, saliva, sweat” you swallow thickly. He was so warm, your lips part lightly. You’ve never wanted anyone inside of you so badly before. 

Your hands weakly lift to grip his bicep, big bulging biceps that were so hard as you squeezed. You bite your lip and suppress a giddy giggle, your hand roaming over his chest. 

He shakes you from your daze. You drop your hand to the floor and swallow thickly. Focus. You take a moment, body flushing even further from humiliation. 

“Ejaculate, arousal fluid, I promise,” you stutter, you adjust your glasses. 

He narrows his eyes, you gush at his stare, a fresh wave of arousal almost squirting out of your cunt at his proximity. 

He closes his eyes tightly, his arms flex as he resists the urge to manhandle you. He didn’t know if it was from anger or something else. Maybe it was the half-lidded gaze you gave him, eyes wandering all over his body and lingering on his very prominent bulge. 

“So… what do I need to do?” 

You shrug. It was obvious. Your eyes blank as you lean back against the wall. 

“Just let me die, dude,” you mumble. He scoffs. Your head rolls to the side and your neck is exposed. He zeros in on the soft skin of your throat, his jaw tightens as he’s hit with your scent of fresh arousal. The musk was enveloping him, his hand cups your face. 

He kisses you, face scrunched as if he hated the idea of being near you. You gasp, his tongue swipes through the roof of your mouth before swirling over yours. 

You moan, fighting to keep your hands on the floor, curled into tight fists as he pulls your head closer. 

“You smell good,” he mumbles offhandedly, voice low and tense, as if he could be doing anything other than this. His actions said otherwise, his tongue splays over your skin, lips pecking down your jaw. His hand grips your hips and pulls you forward. 

“Thanks,” you groan out. 

His head pulled away from you, his pupils were dilated. He was breathing heavier. His body twitches, neck straining. He was starting to feel the effects intensify. 

“You feel better?” he asks softly, eyes roaming over your face, stalling over your lips. 

In fact, you were starting to feel worse. You nod, despite the way your face twisted in pain, the cramps intensity almost debilitating. 

“Liar.” 

He kisses you again, the make out evolving as he pulls you to his lap. He guides your hands to touch him, sliding your fingers up his chest, over his neck. He guides your fingers to the buttons of his suit, right at the nape of his neck. 

Your skirt rides up and he starts to unbutton your blouse. His mind started to cloud, almost as if he didn’t realize that you were being watched, as if you weren’t both trapped. 

Lex sits in the surveillance room alone, having dismissed everyone else once the gas had been pumped into the cage. 

He has cameras for every angle of the cell, he zooms in between your bodies. 

He unbuttons his trousers, palming himself as he focuses in on your ruined panties grinding against the pronounced outline of Superman’s cock and balls. 

Superman presses you against his chest, you tug your arms out of your dress shirt, hands going to his face as your tongue caresses his, wanting to be impossibly closer. 

Luthor chortles as he hears your underwear rip, flinging to the other side of the room. Your bare cunt was spread open by thick digits. His fingers press into you, making your head fall back in delight. 

Superman’s thumb rolls over your clit, you gush around him, so sensitive that a mere touch makes you fall off the edge of pleasure. 

Lex jerks his cock in his hand, thumb running over the head as he spreads his spewing pre over his shaft. His cum was inside of you, Superman was playing with his cum already in your cunt. 

What a sight. 

…

You pant out heavily, he licks up your juices from his fingers and watches as your heart slows, only to start up again. His hand roams all over your body, pressing into your soft skin, groaning as you ground down on him. 

“I’m sorry I have to…” he trails off. Eyes connecting to your breasts. He rips your bra quickly, hands coming up to squeeze the soft mounds. 

His mouth hangs open, he feels himself drool at the sight of your bare body. He was delirious. 

“I have to save you,” he mumbles, as if he were drunk. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, pulling you closer, his nose trailing down the middle of chest, nuzzling softly between your breasts as he breathes in deeply. 

“Jes- jeez-“ he stutters. His tongue flicks out to taste your sweat, your breasts smelled like heaven, a certain musk that guided him to suck the soft flesh in his mouth. 

His nose sinks into the softness, as his lips suck around your nipple. The other hand cups your breast and squeezes, his fingers holding your nipple in place as he presses the surrounding area. Almost as if urging something to drip out. 

And something does. It must be an adverse effect of the gas, you see pearls of white dribble from the nipple he grasps in hand. 

You instinctively attempt to push him away, but he holds you in place. 

You flush in embarrassment as he groans, sucking harder, having just tasted what you’ve seen. He holds the small of your back against him, pressing you closer, his face smothered in your breasts. 

You cup his head, mouth wide open as you moan out into the air freely. 

You grind against his lap, tugging at his briefs. Your weak pawings towards his cock made him ache further. He stands, your limp body pliant in his hold as he makes his way to the bed in the middle of the room. 

You fall harshly against the mattress. Your attempts at unbuttoning your skirt left you feeling winded and weak. You close your eyes and your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. Desperate for him. 

He rips your very expensive and very vintage pencil skirt as if it were wrapping paper. In a blink his suit was gathered on the floor in a heap. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath. The cool air gave him a bout of clarity.  

He was still so upset. He stares down at you, almost in a scowl. He jerks himself, he can’t believe the amount of pre-cum that was coming out of him, almost like a fountain. He pulls your legs, making your back slide towards the edge of the bed. 

His eyes soften as you writhe against the sheets. He palms your breasts and squeezes, he swallows thickly at the milky pearls that bead out. He tests the pliancy of your body. He could break you if he’s not careful enough. His stomach tenses and his heart quickens, almost making him keel over. 

“We dont have to do this- we can-” 

He stares at your cunt as you spread your legs. He swallows thickly. He feels himself fight the urge to sink into you. But his mothers words dig into the back of his skull. Do not get a girl pregnant before marrying her. He stalls. 

He could put his mouth on you for hours, he’s sure he genuinely could do it for hours. He’d love to even. 

But sperm was proven to be the most effective antidote. Who knows what Lex had to figure that out.  You glance at his dick, so hard it looked almost painful. He was about to speak again but you cut him off quickly. 

“I’m on the pill,” you whimper. 

He’s on you quickly, knees digging into the soft mattress as his mouth leads a path up your body to your lips. He thrusts into you. You squeal, a mix of pain and intense pleasure. 

“Holy- goodness-“ he groans, mouth wide open as his hips flex into you. Your pussy was so wet, and so tight as if it wanted to milk him for each drop. 

Lex didn’t have anything to hold onto. Superman's hair was out of its usual gelled back style, pieces of his hair tickling against your skin as he places his forehead against yours.

Your fingers curl into his locks so tightly you fear if he wasn’t nearly invincible, you’d rip them from their roots. 

He groans, eyelids heavy as he gazes down at you. You were such a mess, your eyes were wet, body covered in sweat, a pool of your juices staining half of the mattress. With each of his orgasms, he could feel your body calm further, as if his seed were a salve.

His arms were underneath you, lifting you lightly for more leverage. The squelch of his cock, pumping into you as he held your body below him possessively was so arousing to you. 

You’ve never had an experience like this, someone so attentive and desperate for your body. Although in the back of your mind you knew that he wasn’t exactly desperate for you. You were both so unbearably horny, chemically enhanced hormonal shifts. 

His mouth sucks at your nipple, he groans as you wrap your legs around his waist, your hand reaching to pull his ass onto you. 

His weight was pushing you down as he changed position, pulling your legs up in the air and pressing his chest to the back of your thighs. It was obscene, his spunk spews from your pussy, your lower half seemingly covered in the milky white. 

Lex Luthor watches the whole thing, it lasts hours. He’s almost impressed. It infuriates him. 

Superman did everything in his power to get the chemicals out of your system, through sweat, tears, your cum. And he did everything to feel normal again, to stop craving the feel of your plump heated flesh, the tightness of your cunt, the softness of your lips. 

You were pretty for a LuthorCorp goon. Especially with your glasses all slanted as he pounds you into the mattress. 

By the end of the day Superman was spent, your heart has finally calmed. The last spurts of his cum pump into you weakly. He falls on his side, facing you. 

You both catch your breath, staring into each other's eyes, shifting closer until his arm wraps around you to pull you to his chest. 

His fingers press against the curve of your cheekbone as you lay on your side. He takes your lenses off gently, placing them on the pillow beside your head. 

You stare at him, finger pressing against his chin, his lips, his brow. 

“You’re so different,” you mutter. His eyes look over your features, not hiding his confusion. He imagines you mean different from Lex Luthor. You meant a lot of people. His clone was fucked up, cute, but the bridge of his nose and chin were slightly different. 

“Why do you work for him?”

You shrug. Lex Luthor was a good boss. At least before today. 

You had great health care, optometrist, dermatologist, endocrinologist and many more ists included. Pay was great, company products were free. Lex would get you flowers, he’d listen to your opinions, he’d take you to expensive dinners. 

But it was never intimate, not like the way Superman was pressed against you now. He hums, his hand traces over every mark he left on your body. 

Your expression was grim. 

“You should find another job.” 

You shrug again. He rolls his eyes, disappointed by your nonchalant response. He points between you both. 

“This is pretty messed up.” 

You nod. 

“I know.”

He stands, you stare at the ceiling. He gives you one last look as he changes. He feels better, stronger now. He looks down on you. He looks at the length of his cape. He could wrap you in it, fly to his apartment or Kansas. He’d make sure you were safe. 

“You should come with me…” 

You shake your head, turning on your side. Back turned away from him. He could sense the sadness, the betrayal. He’s sure you’ll leave LuthorCorp on your own. He’d find you. To find out more about what happened, to maybe even take you out for coffee. 

He’s hoping you would confide in Clark Kent.

You hear him tear through the metal. You cocoon yourself into a ball and finally succumb to your fatigue. 

…

You wake up in a hospital bed, the heart monitor beeping loudly beside your ear, making your head thrum with a headache. 

Lex was sitting next to your bed, analyzing your face as you scowled at him. He remains neutral. Your hand whips out faster than even you expected, his head whips to the side as your palm lands on his cheek. 

He rubs his jaw, amusement in his eyes. He takes your hand.

“How do you feel?”

You scoff, pulling your hand away from him. 

“I’m done.” 

He snorts, he gives you a look, as if you were stupid. Class Lex. He always makes you feel so small. So useless sometimes. 

“You’re not done,” he says, shaking his head as if he were speaking to a toddler who didn’t want to eat their vegetables. 

You sit up furiously. “I am done!” 

He doesn’t react to your tone. His eyes look over your body as he speaks. 

“You signed the contract. You work for me for another year.” 

You fume. Your hands ball into fists. He passes you your glasses but you slap the offer away. 

“Unless you want to void the contract. That’ll cost you 50,000, darling.” 

Tears well in your eyes. You couldn’t afford to void the contract, or the NDA. Or pay for legal fees if you want to get a lawyer. You stare up at the ceiling, the pillow is soft.

He holds your hand once again, this time tighter than before, not allowing you to pull away. He pulls in close next to you, he grips your chin to make you look up at him. 

“I own you.” 

He kisses your lips lightly, you face twitches in irritation. 

“You did good. We got what we needed.” 

His lips skim over the marks left by Superman, kissing the bruises and darkened spots so delicately it sent shivers down your spine. Your body soften against the mattress, giving in. 

Your hands were planted against the cushion of the medical bed as he lowered down between your legs, pulling your hospital gown up to expose your pussy. 

He groans at the sight. You let out a shaky breath and spread your legs. Your mound was swollen and as he spread your folds he could see streaky white slick drip out. 

He asked them not to clean you there as medical staff crowded over you after Superman had left.  They understood. It would make for a viable pregnancy if the sperm were to last longer inside of you. 

He licks you, sucks your cunt, slurping Superman’s cum from your gaping hole. There was so much of it. 

Your hands grip the medical bed, his head underneath your soft gown and shifting as he mouths at you. 

He’s never touched you like this, fucked you like this. 

He almost couldn’t believe it worked. Almost. Your pills were switched out months ago, there was no protection and judging by testing done on his clone. Superman’s sperm was potent. Statistically, way more potent than his own. 

He sucks your clit, you muffle a moan with the back of your hand. He stuffs the seed back into you, you succumb to a back arching climax. 

He wipes his mouth with a handkerchief and walks out of the room. 

…

You sit up in Lex’s bed. It’s been a month. 

He’d become more caring, in his own strange little ways. He broke up with his girlfriend, he asked you out on a date. 

He apologized. 

You think something was wrong with you. You stayed. You’d rather reap the benefits of a rich boyfriend than deal with the legalities of quitting your job. 

He touches you as if you were a delicate thing. Precious. You moved into his penthouse. You had access to most if not all of his belongings. 

It was fishy. You’ve asked him about why he did what he did. He said it was to collect more DNA, which was left all over the mattress. 

He wanted to create a better clone of Superman. 

You swipe through your phone, ignoring emails of this so-called Clark Kent from the Daily Planet who wants to discuss your kidnapping the month before. 

He’s been trying for weeks now. 

You trudge through the bedroom door to see Lex in the kitchen. You sniff and your stomach twists. You get closer and you have to stop. 

Bile collects in your mouth, and you rush to the bathroom. He calls out for you in concern, rushing towards you as you keel over the toilet bowl. 

“What were you making that smelled so disgusting?” you groan. His cooking skills were mediocre at best. You weren’t surprised by the horrible smell. 

“Eggs.” 

He could see the wheels turning in your head. You missed your period, but you’ve always had irregular months. 

Your ears ring, you want to puke but not from the smell of breakfast. 

Now that you thought about it. Your boobs were sore, you brushed it off as a long-term side effect of the chemicals. You were spotting for a few days. You felt off. 

You slam the door on Lex’s face and scour through the drawers underneath the sink. A fresh box of pregnancy tests was almost gleaming at you. 

You curse Lex. The bastard planned this. 

You sit on the toilet for more than two minutes. Your legs shake, your hands smooth over your thighs anxiously. 

You’re pretty sure it was Superman’s. You hoped it was just to spite Lex. 

You shake your head and put your head in your hands. You hope it wasn’t anybody’s! 

You pick up the test and close your eyes tightly. You open them and your heart drops. Your body goes cold. 

Lex gleams with joy as you scream in a mix of frustration and pent-up anxiety. You open the door and shove the test to his chest.

He watches you pack your belongings.  

It was positive. 

——————————

Baby daddy needs to lock in… Lex Luthor is so freaky I fear he would make a scheme to carry the child himself if he biologically could. Anyways, I don’t feel great about this one. Idk. Let me know if y'all want more of this reader. 

Requests and asks open! 

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

[peachmis]

Good morning

[peachmis]

Just read big blue by @honeybunnyale chubby Clark got meeeee

[peachmis]

Body worship with chubby Clark aftwr he gains a few pounds, I wanna slobber all over that

Big Blue l C.K. 

w.c.: 2.9k

t.w.: Smut, Light cum play, P in V, Belly worship, Boob fucking (brief), Mention of weight gain, verging on fetish omgooseness, Clark is fat, Reader is at least mid-sized, Mention of fatphobic rhetoric, Angst, Fluff

a/n: Please read all warnings before interacting with my works. 18+ Only! Thank you for the request anon! I may have added more than a few pounds... 😝

Summary: Clark needs some reassurance and you’re more than willing to give it to him. 

His head rests against your stomach, you part his hair with your fingers lazily. His weight didn’t allow you to move, your legs sinking into the mattress. 

Superman has just stopped a monster terrorizing a park across the city, it was late, and your bed was so fluffy and warm, and your room smelled like chamomile and honey. 

You were already in bed by the time he floated to your window, tapping against the glass. You allowed him in, he slumped against your mattress heavily.

He wanted to cool down before getting ready for bed. The television was turned on and you took out the mini cookies from your freezer for him to munch on as you cuddled him from behind.

City life was nice, but it was sedentary at times. There was less physical labor to be done for Clark and the food- gosh, the food was so diverse and delicious and much. 

He had to try all of it. And he had the opportunity now that he was going out with you, taking you places, being introduced to food spots you loved. 

His Superman suit was tailored to the size he was a year ago. It was starting to get tighter around his middle, he was getting heavier. Bulkier. But he was just as strong and just as kindhearted. 

You’ve never mentioned it, never even made him feel as if you realized how much tighter his regular clothes have gotten. 

How he has to size up a bit. 

The media was very keen on the changes though. Too keen. 

“Superman gains Superpounds” 

He grumbled at the tv screen, you were reading, sat up against the headboard with a pillow behind your back. The way his chest rumbled interrupted your focus. 

You glance up and the book lowers against his chest. You scoff as you stare at the screen, showcasing a before and after picture of Clark in his suit. You were confused, outraged by the snarky headline. 

Sure, he filled out, but he was still doing a great job protecting the city, the world. He might even be doing better now that he has more experience. 

Some red-pilled men were invited to speak on it. Talking about how promoting unhealthy habits could be damaging to young people who thought being ‘fat’ was normal. You changed the channel when they started promoting their all men religious bootcamp bullshit. 

Clark’s lips were pursed in annoyance and a little bit of hurt. He looks away from the tv, dazing off into the darkness of the room. Your fingers pause the massage on his scalp, and you rub his chest, leaning down to peck his head of dark curls. 

“They’re so stupid,” you mumble. He hums noncommittally. You sigh at his lack of affirmation, taking off your reading glasses and attempting to place them on the bedside table. You couldn’t reach. 

You tried to adjust underneath him, but you couldn’t move due to his weight. You place your hands on his shoulders lightly, subconsciously.

He turns his head as you huff and he sits up quickly, incredibly embarrassed. You didn’t notice, placing your glasses and book on the table and sitting up to attempt to console him, to hold him. You cup his face, but he pulls away.

“I’m too heavy.”

Your face falls, he inches away, near the edge of the bed. 

“What-”

“You couldn’t even move. I could have hurt you.” 

Your face twists in confusion, your hands drop to your sides as he stands from your bed. You try calling him back to you, but he shakes his head. You hold in a scoff, he was kind of dramatic sometimes. But you knew you hurt his feelings even further. Your chest burns with guilt. 

“I’m going to shower,” he mumbles, ignoring your soft apologetic calls for him. Even then the door clicks softly, the shower head hissing as he turns the handles. 

You open the bathroom door quietly, sitting on the bathroom counter by the sink. You could see him crouch down to the stream of the shower head to rinse his hair. 

You'd be in there with him if you hadn't showered when you got home, right before a very hearty pasta dinner you made. One he had to quickly finish before going out into the city to stop a kaiju with the Justice whatever they are called. 

You lean back on your palms to watch him, the shower curtain acting like a censor to his naked body. 

He thinks about the words from the television. He looks down at his gut, the once toned muscles now covered with a layer of flab. He didn’t really have the most defined body before, but he did have ridges of muscle to showcase. 

He didn’t even have to work for them, it was just because of his heroing and helping around the farm. 

He should be able to control himself. He needed to stop letting his love of new foods get the better of him. He’s a Kryptonian, for gosh sakes. It shouldn’t be so hard to keep in shape. 

You bite your lip, watching as water cascades down his wide back. 

“You’re not heavy.”

He scoffs. He was overthinking it. He thought he was suffocating you with his sheer bulk, that you were shoving him off because you couldn’t breathe and he was breaking your bones. He realized mid shower how ridiculous it sounded. 

Still, he was bigger than when you first started dating. You hear his sigh. You see him shake his head lightly, challenging your statement. You continue softly. 

“You’ve always been bigger than me, Clarkie. That is a fact.”

The shower cuts off and he opens the curtain, hiding behind it to reach for a towel. You wait for him to come out, he steps out of the tub, towel tied to his waist. 

Your eyes drag over his body. The way his belly curves out and his muscles disappeared into the gut makes you sigh shakily as if you were seeing his naked form for the first time.  

He was never a dehydrated Abercrombie supermodel, muscular of course, but never stone hard. He didn’t need to be defined, he had natural and pure strength. But he was thinner then, that much was true. 

It was a classic case of relationship weight. He carried it well. You weren’t exactly a model either, he certainly didn’t mind the curves that came with it. 

His belly button had deepened, his legs thunderous. He hands you a towel, standing between your legs, he bends down to press his head to your collarbone, leaving a light kiss to your skin. 

Your night gown was soft and you knew it was one of his favorites because of the way it highlighted your tits. He had a very clear view of your cleavage. 

You dry his hair, scrunching up his curls as the towel dampened. You peck his cheek as you coat his strands with product. You kiss his cheek loudly as you finish, lips smacking and causing him to groan. 

You cup his face, looking into his eyes with as much love you could muster. He still had a small pout. Your hands roam over his neck and shoulders, he tenses but you press on, eyes half lidded, bottom lip between your teeth as you moaned softly. 

His eyes shoot up to meet yours, shocked by the small noise you made from just touching him. 

“Big, strong, Superman.” 

You squeeze his arm, the other hand dragging up to cup his soft pecs. He grunts, his biceps flex at your touch subconsciously. 

“I get to share my softie Clark with the rest of the world now.”  

He was 270 pounds and rising. He’d started weighing himself after Guy Gardner commented on his new “gains”. You scoot closer to the edge and feel his belly press against your stomach. You hum. 

You leave a trail of kisses down his neck, he pulls you closer by the back of the head, extending his neck to allow you more access to the sensitive skin there. 

You lick, you suck, you bite. You lead his hands to your body, urging him to squeeze and grope. 

He was so sweet. So easy to tease. His face reddens as you whisper in his ear huskily, biting his earlobe as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Take me to bed, big blue.” 

He lifts you up, holding you against his chest as he presses you down against the mattress, body on top of yours, weight making it impossible to shift away. 

He kisses you ravenously, parting your lips to suck on your tongue but you fight for dominance. You squeeze his sides, groaning at the weight in each handful. He pulls away, stunned by your sudden obsession with fondling his extra areas. He shifts away from your touch, you pout. 

You push his shoulder lightly, cupping his face, pressing delicate kisses over his jaw and chin. 

“Lay down, baby.” 

He watches you closely, his body moving to lay flat against your mattress. His mouth parts as you undo the knot of his towel. 

The towel falls away. He swallows thickly, vulnerable in your intense gaze. Your eyes were half lidded, he sits up by his elbows and his tummy jiggles. 

You exhale shakily. You shove off your nightdress and he takes a sharp breath in at the sight of your soft skin and bare breasts, your nipples pebbling from the cool air.

“I think about you all of the time, Clark.” 

His breath hitches as his cock bobs, globs of pre dribbling out of his tip and gliding down towards his base and balls. You grab a hold of his shaft, pressing it against the underside of his belly, watching as he loses sight of it and looks unsure as you jerk him. 

“I get so wet thinking about you, at work, at home, when you’re not there to make me feel better,” you say softly on your knees as you bend down to kiss the swell of his stomach. 

You could feel his stomach tense underneath your touch. He didn’t know what to do or feel. He groans as you lick softly, the tip of your tongue pressing lightly against his skin. 

His cock pulses and more pre comes out, coating his own stomach in his slick. 

“You’re so soft, bubby. Make me feel so safe and warm, like I’m cuddling a big ol’ teddy,” you emphasize the word with a squeeze, teasing him. He says your name softly, cautious and unsure. 

He wouldn’t notice, he didn’t think anything of it, but you love rubbing his belly, a little bloated after a meal, his body pressing yours into your bed as you cuddled him from behind. 

It was like you were taking care of him for once. 

You position yourself between his legs, his prick right between your breasts as you licked over his soft swell. You squeeze your tits together, his breath hitching as his hips thrusts upwards. You felt his tip glide against your skin, covering your chest and neck in his pre. 

“Always wanna make you feel safe, honey-“ he stutters. 

You dived into his belly button, glancing up at him. He curses under his breath. He watches the obscene display, your tongue circling over the hole, dipping into it. 

You bite him all over, his balls tighten, he feels a sudden rush go through him as you continue to press your face into his gut, mouth open, drooling, tongue licking all over his body and up to his soft pecs. 

His thighs lock in place, your grip on his cock tightens as he pulses, reader to burst with cum. You pull away as he shoots, white baby batter hitting your chin as you sit on your heels, watching as he writhed from your fast jerks.

He grips your sheets tightly, his body shaking as you milk the most out of him. His belly was covered in his spunk, you lap it up like a kitten would milk, pressing tender kisses to his tummy afterwards 

His cock hardens again, his hand was over his face, breathing heavily from his sudden climax. He was pink all over his body. 

You sit on his lap, pulling your panties to the side and positioning him onto you. Your hands grip his cock, squeezing and tugging lightly, teasing him with your opening and folds. 

He swallows thickly, it was as if a snail trail was imprinted on your skin, his cock having left a trail of his slick on your skin as you rose above him. 

He moans, you were so wet, the heat from your cunt making his stomach tense. He moves to click your bedside lamp off, but you sink down on him causing his hand to stop mid action.

You both groan, he holds your hips tightly. You sunk into him too fast. He gives you a look of concern, your cunt tight, your chest hiccupping as you bore through the sudden intrusion. 

“I wanna see you,” you gasp, still getting adjusted to his girth, your voice breathy as you shift on his lap. You gained momentum as you steadied yourself on your knees. 

Your thighs clap against his, you press your hands against his chest and squeeze, he groans each time he bottoms out. 

He had a developing double chin as he looked up at you, his head laying against your pillow. You didn’t even realize, the changes were gradual and so insignificant to you. 

You liked your things soft anyway, your room was covered in soft lighting, soft bedding, soft plushies. Most of them gifts from Clark. 

The warmth you felt in your chest at his fucked-out face made you grab a hold of his chin with ferocity. You peck all over his lips, his cheek, his temples, his nose. 

He blushes at the attention, your hips stopping their bounce to warm his cock, your hands traveling over his sides with a press, rubbing at his growing waistline. 

“I like you so much like this.” 

He shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t believe you. He shakes his head, watching as you grind on his lap. He thrusts up into you, you press his chest down, urging him to stop.

He takes a deep breath in. You could see the frustration build in his face, his hands moving up your thighs and rubbing, waiting for you to continue your speech. 

“You don’t like me how I am?” you ask, voice deceptively sweet.

His mouth parts, you give him an innocent look. He knew what you were doing. He purses his lips and swallows thickly. His eyes narrow as you tighten your cunt.

“Don’t start sayin’-“

You pout, dramatically. You sigh and look to the side. He hates when you have a point to make. You were so stubborn, slapping his hand away from your thighs and pulling away.

“You know I love you, you’re beautiful-“ 

He chokes on his words as you lean forward and lift your hips to slam back down. You move your hips forward, your clit rubbing against the underside of his belly. 

“Exactly,” you retort. 

You squeeze his belly, he turns as red as a stop sign. 

“You’re hard where you need to be. Soft where I want you to be,” you exhale. You stare at him as if he were a piece of meat, you’d drool if you could.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his life. 

He loses count of how many times you’ve made him cum. You were covered in him, he’s sure you wouldn’t appreciate the state of your drenched bedsheets in the morning. 

“I think you made yourself clear, hon,” he gasps. His hips twitching as you drain him for all that he's worth one last time.

You exhausted yourself. You could barely move above him, sweat dripping from your pores. You whine, your legs were tense, bruised from being on your knees for too long, bouncing on his cock for hours on end. 

You fall forward, his cock softening inside your pulsing pussy. Your mound was raw and swollen, you groaned in discomfort as he lifted you further up his body, your head meeting his chest, your folds dripping with him. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumble, lips pursing to weakly kiss his exposed skin. 

He hums with a lazy smile on his face. Your eyes threaten to close as he lays you down to your side. Your legs finally turn to Jello, unlocking from their stiff position. Your lower back stings as you adjust, Clark standing to go to the bathroom. 

You bite your lip as you watch him go, his ass was fatter. 

He cleaned you up with a warm wet rag and changed the bedsheets while you sat in your giant beanbag chair in the corner of the room covered in a throw blanket and one of his spare shirts hidden in your room. 

The comforter was a light shade of blue, his favorite. The color adorns your pillows and mattress, just as soft as the sheets from before. 

He lifts you easily, bridal carrying you and kissing your neck, making you yelp as he blew raspberries into your sensitive skin.

The mattress frame creaks lightly as he gets under the covers with you, wearing an oversized white shirt and boxers. You sit up on your elbows, he lays his head down on the pillow, looking up at you softly. 

You stare at each other. He cups your face, you lean into the touch. He was so approachable. Kind looking. 

Kids bound up to him more often, you notice. Everyone did. He was a big ball of sunshine. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. Your eyes shine with welling tears, he chuckles at your loving gaze. 

“I love you, no matter what. You know that?” you ask softly.

You were always sincere. You held your emotions like an open book. Like when you looked so shocked Clark Kent, the really tall guy that eats at your family’s restaurant every Friday, asked you out as you handed him his check. 

He pulls you close. You snuggle against his chest and wrap your arms around him tightly. 

He knew. 

—-----------------

Hmmmmm I’m scratching at the walls because he’s not real. I love fat Clark, ahhhh please give fat/chubby Clark fanart plesss. I beg. I beg. 🤲

-Alejandra 💋🐇

[peachmis]

[peachmis]

Learning The Ropes (1)

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader (fem)

Category: smut, eventual friends to lovers

Summary: Whilst writing an article on spicing up the bedroom, you’re surprised when your close friend volunteers to help you experiment and investigate.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, kissing, food play (eating/licking whipped cream off each other), sub!clark, dom!reader, BDSM elements, reader writes for women’s section of online Daily Planet, journalist!reader, eventual friends to lovers, just friends who fuck at the moment, let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: This was initially going to be one big fic but I’ve decided to split it up into maybe 3 or 4 parts that I’ll upload as I write it (assuming feedback is good). I did research for this to try to make it as authentic as possible when it comes to the at-home BDSM stuff (I read a lot of guides) but I’m not an expert so apologies for any errors - this is NOT an instruction manual. This is for @lightwxlker who helped out with the initial idea and has listened to me yap about it ever since.

Lois knew something was wrong as soon as you emerged from the meeting with your boss. "Uh oh. What does she want you to write about now?"

The office was buzzing with activity, voices blurring together, but Lois had a sixth sense when it came to you. She always knew when something wasn't quite right.

You perched on the edge of her desk with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest like a child having a tantrum as you dumped your bag onto the floor, your pens spilling from the outside pocket. "Something impossible."

Your friend snorted, thinking you were being dramatic. "What could be impossible for you? You never say no to anything."

She was right. Ever since the Daily Planet had gone digital and expanded online, it had opened up a whole array of new topics. Things that never would have seen the light of day in the physical newspaper now took pride and place on the website. As for you, you wrote for the women's section. Offering life advice, relationship tips and tricks and, most popularly, sex pointers and guidance.

"You know that article I wrote last month?" You lowered your voice. "The one on BDSM?"

"Why the world of BDSM is less scary than you think? Yeah, I know the one." Lois grinned, she'd liked that article. It had been very thought provoking, even making her curious about it all.

"Well, my readers have taken an interest in it. And all the comments on the article are asking how you can get involved with the lifestyle."

"Okay..." Lois couldn't see what the problem was. This was good for you, the audience loving an article so much that they wanted a follow up.

"They want me to experiment with at-home BDSM to inform people how easy it is to get started with objects you might have just hanging around the house." You pulled your notebook out of your bag and flipped open to the latest page to read the words your boss had used. "Make it easy and accessible."

She continued to frown. "I don't see what the issue is. You tend to write about your own experiences. Why is this any different?"

"I teach women how to achieve orgasm by themselves. What sex toys are best for their certain needs." You realised she still wasn't getting the idea. "Solo stuff."

"Ah." Lois nodded and stifled a laugh behind her hand. "And for this you need-"

"I need someone else." You sighed. "Who could’ve predicted that being chronically single would affect my work one day?"

The corner of Lois's mouth turned up in a half smile. "Surely there's someone you know who could help out? An old hookup maybe?"

You gave her a bored stare. "Lois, this isn't exactly something you can just ask of someone casually. Besides, it requires trust. I'd have to at least know the person's middle name and where they grew up."

"Do you even know your old hookups' first names?" She asked dryly.

You tapped her on the head with your notebook. "Very funny, Lane."

She laughed as she swatted the notebook away. But before she could say anything else she was interrupted by a mug of coffee being placed on her desk next to where you were sitting. You both looked up to see a figure towering over you.

"Hi, Clark." You grinned up at him, happy to see him. You'd been mildly disappointed when you'd come into the office and he wasn't at his desk.

"Hi." The tall yet shy man bowed his head down in a greeting, eyed darting to the coffee he'd just given to Lois. "I would've gotten you one too but I didn't know you were here."

You shrugged, Clark was overly polite sometimes so you didn't think anything of him not giving you a coffee. It never would have been malicious. "Don't worry about it."

"Hey, didn't you talk to lots of people from the world when you did your last article on it?" Lois broke your attention away from Clark. "Couldn't you ask one of them for help? They'd already be an expert."

You shook your head. "They'd be too well-versed. I'm supposed to be writing an amateur's guide. Besides, I'm a theoretical expert already."

One of Lois's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Does that make you the dom?"

"Not necessarily." You rolled your eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

It was then that you and Lois both realised that Clark was still hovering, listening to your conversation. You didn't exactly want to fill in him on the details of your latest problem, but Lois had other ideas.

"She's looking for someone to practice BDSM with."

That same flat, bored look again. "Thanks, Lois."

"You're welcome." She chimed.

You looked at Clark to find that his cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink. A bright, flaming pink.

Maybe an explanation would ease his blushing. "It's my new article. I'm supposed to be advising my readers on how to explore it easily at home."

The explanation did not help. Clark nodded but the blood rushing to his face didn't stop.

"Okay, well-" You stood up from Lois's desk, feeling bad that you'd embarrassed Clark and feeling bad for yourself because of your predicament. "-I'm going to go home and rethink my career choices."

"And find someone who would be willing to tie you up." Lois added with a pointed finger and a smug smirk.

"That too." You sighed, scooping your bag up from the floor and stuffing your notebook into it along with the pens that had fallen out. "Goodbye, Lois. Goodbye, Clark. Bye, Jimmy!"

The latter man tossed a wave over his shoulder at you, pretending like he hadn't been listening into the whole conversation. The three of them watched you as you trudged out of the building, obviously put off by your latest assignment. But by the time you got back to your apartment, you pretty much had a whole plan set up in your head. You knew what points you wanted to hit in your article, the kind of things you wanted to experiment with and what you'd need from around the house to assist you. The only thing you still had an issue with was who you were supposed to be doing all of this with. You really had no one you could ask. It was a dilemma.

The afternoon passed by quickly and soon enough there was a knock at your door. Right on schedule, same time as every day. You opened it up to find the tall figure of Clark Kent waiting for you on the other side. He looked flustered. More so than usual.

"Good afternoon, Superman." You grinned at him and stepped to the side to let him in.

"Can you lower your voice please?" He looked either way down your hallway before walking into your apartment. It was the same way you greeted him every day, and he still worried your neighbours would overhear you. The neighbours he worried about consisted of an eighty year old woman who you were pretty sure didn't have working hearing aids and a single dad who couldn't hear anything over the screaming of his two small children.

"Sorry, sorry." You raised your hands in surrender and kicked your door shut. Finding out Clark was Superman had been a funny accident. You'd walked into one of the shared bathrooms at the Daily Planet to find him pulling the blue and red suit from his briefcase. He wasn't very good at coming up with an excuse to explain why he had it. You promised not to tell anyone. He believed you. You advised him to start locking bathroom doors. He took note of that. And you'd been close friends ever since.

"I've got lemonade in the kitchen." You told him as you made your way out to your balcony, laptop tucked under your arm. You'd offered your balcony to Clark just after finding out he was Superman, telling him it had a good view of the city so he could keep an eye out for danger whilst simultaneously doing work in the meantime. He'd taken you up on that offer and had sat on your balcony almost every afternoon and evening after that.

He joined you a minute later, a glass of lemonade in one hand and his briefcase tucked under his arm. The chair he sat in creaked as he lowered himself into it. You really needed to invest in one that would better support his large frame.

"How's your new assignment going? Made any progress?" Clark attempted to hide his blush behind the glass as he took a sip of lemonade but you saw it anyway.

You were surprised he was even asking you. As close as you and Clark were, you often didn't discuss the things you wrote about. You didn't even know whether he read your articles. "Uh, I have a plan for it. I think. It's going to take more research."

"Found someone to participate?"

You snorted. "No. I can't even think of anybody to ask."

He watched you for a moment, hesitating. "Well, I was thinking-"

You cut him off as an object falling from the sky distracted you, dragging your eyes away from him. "Is that a meteor?"

Clark's eyes snapped towards it. "I'll be back."

He disappeared back into your apartment in a flash before flying out again and into the sky in less than a second, a haze of red and blue, rustling the pile of notes next to you than you'd written up earlier in the day. You could only observe as Clark- Superman caught the falling object and carried it back into space. Honestly, it baffled you as to how you'd never written a piece about Superman considering how often you got a front row ticket to his acts of heroism. You shrugged to yourself and opened your laptop, pulled up an empty document and typed out a title.

At-Home BDSM: How You Can Easily Spice Up the Bedroom.

You weren't quite happy with that title but it would have to do for now. At the rate you were going in terms of finding a partner, you'd be lucky if there even was an article. A working title was the least of your worries.

A few minutes later Clark landed back on your balcony.

"Well done, Superman. Can't wait to see Clark Kent's front page piece tomorrow." You smiled at him over the top of your laptop, wondering how he didn't even seem to be out of breath. Funny how human he looked on the outside.

"Haha, hilarious." He disappeared back into your apartment and emerged a couple of moments later, changed back into his shirt and slacks. He'd abandoned the suit jacket and dress shoes for now. "What I was trying to say before-"

"Before you were interrupted by a meteor shower?"

"Yeah. What I was trying to say before that was what would you think of me being your participant?"

Hands stopped typing mid-word. Brain short circuited. Body froze. Heart rate increased.

"What?" Your head whipped around to look at him, to see if he was joking. He looked deadly serious. Your heart thumped in your chest.

"You said you can't think of anyone to ask. What about me?"

"Once again, what?"

"I don't know what you're not understanding-"

Thwack. With a firm push of your hand your laptop snapped shut and cut him off. "I'm sorry. Are you, Clark Kent, Superman, offering to enter into a BDSM relationship with me?"

He smiled warmly. "If it'll help with your article then yeah!"

You stumbled over your thoughts, mind running at a million miles per minute. The idea of doing all the things you'd made a note of with Clark of all people was strange. Not unwelcome. But strange. It left a tight feeling in your stomach.

"You do know what that would entail, yes?"

He didn't look too impressed with that. "I wasn't born yesterday."

"That's not what I meant." You sighed and put your laptop on the floor as you stood up. "It would be intense."

"I know. But I also know you'd take care of me." His dimples shone as he smiled widely. "I heard Lois say you'd take on the dominant role since you know a lot."

"And you'd be okay with that?" You hadn't really decided which role you were going to take on yet, it was all dependent on who you ended up partnering with. But it seemed you didn't have to worry about that. Clark Joseph Kent was offering to be your submissive. At least you knew his middle name.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'd be okay with that."

"We'd have to have a lot of long conversations about it. Set up boundaries and safe words and stuff."

"Sounds great. Do you want to start now?" His eyes moved over to the pile of notes you'd made on the topic.

He was killing you. Truly. Killing. You.

"Clark, we'd have to have sex."

His blue eyes met yours again. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Do you?"

"No. It's all research, right?"

A humourless laugh rumbled out of you. "Right."

"So, is that a yes?"

What other choice did you have?

"Yes."

"Great." He sat back down in his creaky chair. "Let's start talking."

1. First things first, a safe word system is essential.

The sun had set long ago when you and Clark finally finished talking through your plan for the article. You'd set up boundaries. You knew his limits. He knew yours. Everything you had to say he took in with rapt attention, nodding along with you. You'd made him look through a list of possible activities and kinks to see what he'd be up for. You were surprised when he said yes to most of it. The list was pretty tame, easy stuff to start out with, but you were still surprised by his enthusiasm.

"For a safe word, I figured we'd just go with the standard traffic light system." You shrugged, consulting your notes. When Clark gave no reaction, you glanced up at him. He just stared back at you blankly. "Green is all good, yellow is pause and re-assess and red is hard stop."

"Right, right. Yeah, good." He nodded along enthusiastically but you could tell he wasn't quite certain.

"Clark, you know you don't have to do this. Right?"

"I know. But I want to."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, positive."

"I'll take care of you, I promise. As your... dominant it's my responsibility to keep you comfortable and happy. We'll do everything slowly and step by step. We can talk through everything as many times as you want and you're always allowed to tell me no."

"I know. And I trust you."

"Good. Trust is... is important." You consulted your notes. "When do you want to get started?"

"When's the article due in?"

"End of the month." You looked at everything you had planned. "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Tomorrow sounds good." His smile hadn't wavered for the whole evening. "What's on the schedule?"

"Food-play." You paused to await a reaction that he didn't give. "I've got whipped cream I can eat off of you.”

"Starting off tame, huh? There are more intense things on your list." He snatched up the list from your coffee table.

"That's the point. We start slow and build our way up."

"Hm, okay. I'm good with that." He put the list back down and wiggled his eyebrows. "Anything you want me to do in the meantime? Y'know, as your submissive?"

He seemed a tad too keen to say that. You wondered if it was mocking but decided Clark was too nice for that and was probably just eager to help you out.

"Nothing specific. But from now on I'm your dominant and you're my submissive. So you do as I tell you. Within reason." You paused. "Actually, there is something. You have to ask my permission to come. So no jerking off when you get home."

Pink-tinged cheeks glowed in the moonlight. "Okay, I can do that."

After a few more short conversations about what your new dynamic with Clark would entail, he decided to head home for the night. There was an air of awkwardness as you looked at each other at your door, knowing you were going to sleep together in the near future but not knowing what the vibe was between you until then. Did you hug goodbye? Offer him a friendly pat on the shoulder? Kiss? No, definitely not kiss.

Clark had other ideas. "Permission to touch you?"

You frowned. "Sure."

He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. "See you tomorrow."

It was your turn to grow hot. "See you tomorrow."

Then the door was closed and you were tucking yourself into bed not long after that. At least with the ability to work from home tomorrow, you didn't need to see Clark before you inevitably licked whipped cream off of his chest in the afternoon. God, you were in for a ride.

2. Start out slow. Introduce food in the bedroom to make things different. But remember, cleanup will be sticky.

By the time Clark was knocking on your door the next day, you'd written the introduction for your article and done more investigating into the other things you had planned.

"Good afternoon, Miss Dominant. How has your day been?" Clark grinned at you as he closed your apartment door.

You rolled your eyes as you poured him a glass of lemonade. "You don't have to call me that."

"What do I call you then?"

"My name." You huffed. "We agreed we've known each other too long for you to start calling me 'mistress' or something."

"Eh, it was worth a shot." He shrugged and planted his elbows on your kitchen island. "I see you're not making me get my own drink today."

"As your dominant, I take care of you now." You handed the drink to him. "Did you bring a change of clothes like I asked?"

"Thanks. Yeah."

"Good. I did remember one thing we forgot to discuss yesterday."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"What do you want as a reward? Y'know, when you're good?"

The sincerity in your voice had Clark choking on the lemonade, spluttering into the glass. "Uh, what kind of things could you reward me with?"

"The first thing that comes to mind is praise."

"Huh." He nodded and lowered the glass.

"Yes or no to that?"

"We can try it out."

"Okay. But tell me if you're not into it." You turned to your refrigerator.

"I will."

"Good." You pulled the can of whipped cream from the shelf and placed it on the counter between the two of you. "Want to get started?"

He only nodded.

"Use your words, Clark."

His cheeks flushed. "Yes, I want to get started."

"Good. Let's go." You grabbed the can again and rounded the counter, slid your hand into Clark's larger one and started leading him towards your bedroom. He followed you happily. When you reached your bedroom, you shut the door behind the two of you and tossed the cream onto the top of your bed. You turned to Clark and held onto his other hand with your now free one. "Traffic light check-in?"

"Green. Very green." His smile confirmed his answer.

"Good." You dropped his hands and pointed at the bed. "Take off your shirt and lie down."

"Okay." He did as he was told pretty quickly but not Superman quickly. Just fast enough to showcase an enthusiasm that had your stomach twisting in anticipation.

Once he was situated on the bed with his torso exposed, you took a second to admire him. He was about as ripped and muscular as you'd expect Superman to be. It was intimidating how perfect his body was. You tried not to show that on your face and maintained a neutral expression.

Picking up the cream again, you crawled onto the bed and placed yourself straddled over the tops of his thighs. You didn't want to sit on his lap quite yet.

"Ready?"

He hummed in affirmation.

"Words, Clark."

"I'm ready."

You popped the cap off the cream and discarded it to the floor as you shook the canister, figuring you probably wouldn't be needing it for a while. "No touching. Keep your hands palms down on the bed. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good." And with that you squirted a load of cream onto his chest, using a finger to smear it around a little. Once you were happy with it, you reached up and tapped the finger covered with cream against Clark's lips. "Clean this for me."

He obliged with an open mouth and sucked the sweetness clean off your finger with a satisfied sigh.

"Good boy." You said as you lowered your head down and started licking a long stripe up from his waistband to his collarbone.

The cream gathered on your tongue and Clark shivered beneath you. It only took one look in his eyes with the white substance sitting on your tongue for him to grow rock hard beneath you. He realised then that he might have been in way over his head. But he was in too deep now.

He could only make small little sounds as you went to town on licking over the rippling muscle of his chest, his hands twitching at his sides. He wanted to touch you, he really did. But you'd said he couldn't. So he followed your instructions. You bit gently at the softer tissue of his pecs and Clark moaned in the back of his throat. You only smiled against his skin and did it again.

Once his chest was clean you sat up again and looked down at him, noticing the bulge in his pants. You were enjoying this far too much, although that was the point, and traced a finger over his belt buckle. The power was going to your head. "Got a little excited, hm?"

Clark didn't answer you, just stared up instead with his mouth hanging open. It was a confidence boost to see that this was the effect you had on him, whether it was just because of the whipped cream or not.

"Sit up against the headboard."

He did as he was told again, keeping his hands down firmly on the bed. You liked that, he was good at following instructions.

"You can touch me now." You watched the excitement flare on his face.

"Where?"

The act of him asking sent a thrilling pulse straight through you as you trailed a fingertip along the length of his neck. "You can put your hands on my hips, to keep me steady. And then hold onto me however you want once I'm licking the cream off you again."

He did exactly that, keeping you balanced as you moved forward a few inches to settle on his lap. What you'd already gathered through seeing the outline on the front of his pants was confirmed as you sat against him. Clark was extremely well endowed.

You pushed that thought aside as you grabbed the can again. "How'd you feel about me giving you a hickey?”

"I'm okay with that." He whispered. "But it might not stay long. Rapid healing, y'know?"

"Hm." You only hummed in response.

Clark stayed frozen as the can hissed next to his ear, the cold cream landing on his neck. He waited with bated breath as you dropped the can to the bed and leaned into his ear.

"Ready?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes."

Then your lips were attached to his neck, sucking and tongue licking away the sweet substance. Clark's arms slid from your hips to wind around your back, rocking you against him as he grew impossibly harder. Your shirt clung to his sticky chest but you didn't seem to pay much attention as you sucked a hickey into his throat. Clark's eyes rolled back as you hummed happily and your clothed core pressed tight against him.

He was in heaven and you hadn't really done anything yet. He was fit to burst in his pants, cock throbbing with the weight of you sitting against him. Trembling underneath you as you focused on cleaning him of the dairy product, Clark could only think of all the things you had yet to do. He'd seen your plan. He was screwed. Literally.

Once every last bit of the cream was gone, and you'd had your fill of biting at Clark's skin, you finally pulled back and smiled at him.

"How'd that work for you?" You looked pleased with yourself as you took in the sight of his pink cheeks and blown pupils. He looked dazed.

"Good, it was good." His eyes drifted to the can on the bed next to the two of you. "Can... can I try?"

Surprised he was so into it already, you tilted your head to the side playfully. "You want to have a go? Where would you like it?"

His gaze flew up and down the length of you before he shrugged shyly. "You decide."

"You make a good little sub, Kent. You know that? Okay." You reached down and pulled your shirt over your head, laughing when you realised it was stuck to Clark's torso. You reminded yourself to make a note of that. Your shirt was tossed aside and you were left sitting on his lap with only your bra to cover your chest. Grabbing the cream, you kept a keen eye on Clark as you sprayed the substance over the swell of your breasts. "There you go. Get licking."

There was a split second of hesitation before he was on you. Eyes closed, tongue laving over your skin enthusiastically, Clark moaned at the combined taste of the cream and you. He couldn't quite decide which was sweeter. He sucked on you greedily, peeking his eyes open to see if he was doing a good job. When he saw your head was thrown back he figured he probably was.

He was wrong before, this was heaven. He could feel himself twitching, precum already leaking from his tip. But he didn't plan on stopping until you told him to. Maybe you were right, maybe he did make a good sub. Because all he could think about was pleasing you. He moaned when you did, the sound of you sending a shockwave through him. Without realising it, he had started rocking your hips against his to seek out the friction he so desperately craved.

"Okay, okay. That's enough." You got a grip on the back of his head, fingers knotted in his hair, and pulled him away from you. "Go easy."

"I'm sorry." He huffed and rested his forehead against your chest, right in the valley of your breasts. "Got carried away."

"It's okay. I'm flattered you seemed to enjoy that so much." You used your hold on his hair to tilt his face up to yours. You ghosted your lips over his, pulling away just as he started to lean in further. Clark let out a low whine. Your brows shot up in surprise at that. "Really? Day one and you're already so needy and pathetic."

He let out a breath of frustration.

"A brat too." You paused and cupped his face in your hands. "Check-in?"

"Green." His voice was firm but you decided to double check anyway.

"Sure?" You asked and he nodded. "Words, Clark."

"Yes, I'm sure." His eyes were fixed on your lips.

"Okay, good. Want me to make you come?"

His eyes shot up to meet yours. He was surprised at how blunt you were, shocked that your friendship didn’t seem to be getting in the way of this new setup between you. "Yes, please."

Then you kissed him, hot and heavy. He tasted of the cream he'd been sucking off of you, or maybe that was you. Either way, the kiss tasted sweet. You made sure to stay in control, your tongue licking into his mouth and curling against his. Tension built in your tummy at how good it felt to kiss him, something you hadn't anticipated.

Clark was loud as you rocked your hips against him, an array of whimpers and moans leaving his lips. You swallowed them hungrily. He wasn't far off coming, you could sense it.

So you broke away from the kiss and leant your forehead against his. "You close?"

"Yes." He whined, suddenly remembering what you'd told him the day before. "Can I come? Please?"

"Yes." You kissed him against and that sealed the deal. His hips thrust up against yours once, twice and then he was moaning into your mouth as his body jerked against yours. "Good boy, Clark."

He smiled against your mouth at that as he relaxed beneath you, sated. Suddenly, he stiffened. "I came in my pants."

"Don't worry about it." You chuckled, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Let's get you cleaned up."

3. Aftercare is important.

After Clark had calmed down you climbed off of him and disappeared into the bathroom. You re-emerged with a washcloth and proceeded to wipe the stickiness off of his neck and chest. You placed soft kisses on his rosy cheeks as you did so, returning his breathing rate to normal. Wandering off again to get his briefcase, Clark watched you move around him. When you came back with his briefcase clutched in one hand, you offered your free one out to him.

"Bathroom, come on." You tilted your head in the direction of your en suite, smiling when Clark grasped your hand and hauled himself up from the bed.

The two of you were quiet as you pulled a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from his briefcase. He could only observe as you seemed to do it all so naturally, like taking care of him was instinct. You'd made a joke about him being a good submissive, but maybe you were good at being dominant. Certainly at this side of it at least.

You broke him out of his thoughts with a quiet question. "Do you want help getting changed or do you want to do it yourself?"

He blinked. Clark wasn't shy, he'd been all too eager to take his shirt off for you. But he also didn't revel in the idea of suddenly being completely bare, soft and covered in his own cum for the first time you saw him naked. He didn't think you would judge him in any way, oh no, far from it. But the twinge of embarrassment that hit him at the mere notion of it was too much to ignore.

"Uh, I'll do it myself. I'll be fine." His voice was raspy as he said it, wondering if it was the wrong answer. Maybe he was supposed to let you do everything.

"Okay." You shrugged. "Still green?"

His shoulders relaxed. "Still green."

"Good. See you in a minute." You stood on the tips of your toes and planted a kiss on his jawline before returning to your bedroom and closing the door behind you.

When he followed behind you a few minutes later, free from his momentary spiralling in the bathroom, he found you on your bed sitting against the headboard and flicking through channels.

"I ordered pizza for us. It'll be here in twenty minutes."

He cleared his throat, prepping himself to ask his next question. "You don't want me to go home?"

You frowned, sitting up and scooting towards the edge of the bed towards him. You didn't like how tense he was, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. "No, why would I want that?"

Clark shifted from foot to foot. "I've heard you talking to Lois and Cat. You kick out guys after you've slept with them usually, don't you?"

The crease between your brows that appeared at that indicated that you were not a fan of what he'd just said. "You're not a one night stand, Clark."

"Yeah, but we're not dating either."

"Look, you can go home if you want." You slid back towards the headboard and settled against the pillows. "Or you can stay here and partake in what I had planned."

"What- what did you have planned?" He folded his arms across his chest, biceps straining against the material of his sleeves.

"Pizza, a movie and cuddling." You shrugged. "Standard post-sex stuff."

He perked up. "Cuddling?"

You grinned. "Shut up and get over here."

You didn't need to tell him twice. He bounded towards you like an excited puppy and landed on the bed with a bounce. After settling on a channel, and settling into each others' arms, the evening moved by rapidly. The pizza was delivered and you ate through it quickly, mocking the made-for-TV movie you'd put on between mouthfuls. You only ever moved from your spot on the bed to answer the door to the pizza guy and to wash and dry his clothes. Clark spent most of the evening leaning his head on your lap as you carded your fingers through his hair. It was nice. It wasn't until the sun had set that you finally decided to approach the topic of what was on the agenda for the next day.

"Hey, Clark."

"Hm?"

"I have an idea for tomorrow if you're up for it."

A/N: let me know what you think!

[peachmis]

[peachmis]

Clark Kent save me😞

[peachmis]

To be cringe is to be free!!!!

[peachmis]

Not writing a fanfic nobody asked for but writing fanfic for yourself and that one other person who is equally insane about the idea

[peachmis]

DAVID CORENSWET Behind the scenes of Superman (2025)