cowboybeepboop

[cowboybeepboop]

Weakling

Pairing: Fili Durin x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.6k 

a/n: taking a slight break from Superman to write this 😛

The Company had just finished helping Beorn with his chores and was relaxing around the fire with food.

Fili was sitting near the fire, trying not to look at you. Nevertheless, he kept glancing your way every few seconds, trying to hide it from his companions, who hadn’t yet noticed his sudden strange behavior.

You stretch your arms with a yawn, handing the leftovers from your meal to the hobbit at your left. Bilbo gratefully accepts the food, his eyes lighting up with his smile.

Fili watches as you hand the food to Bilbo, and his eyes narrow. He can’t quite explain it, but he feels annoyed, watching you give your food to someone else.

He shifts on the log, trying to shake the strange feeling, but his irritation only grows. You pull the cloak closer around your body, cuddling into Bilbo’s side as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

Bilbo notices your movement and smiles, shifting closer to allow you to rest your head on him better, not knowing this just makes Fili even more annoyed.

Kili and some of the other dwarves exchange glances, noticing Fili’s irritated expression, and they try not to laugh at his reaction.

They had been watching Fili's behavior towards you, and they knew something was up.

Bofur, who was sitting next to Kili, spoke up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, Fili, lad, what’s got you so worked up?”

Fili shot a glare at Bofur, silently telling him to shut up, but it only made Bofur's grin widen.

“It's nothing,” he grumbled, his eyes flickering in your direction before quickly looking back to the fire.

You stand from the hobbits’ side, noticing a familiar berry bush toward the edge of the camp. 

“Bilbo, look!” You quietly point it out, the two of you heading to pick some of the sweetened fruit.

The dwarves watch as you and Bilbo walk away from the fire, and Fili can’t help but watch you closely. He sees you heading outside the camp, pointing at a berry bush.

His protective instincts kick in, and he starts to get up from the log, when Kili grabs his arm, stopping him.

“She’ll be fine, Fili. They’re just getting some berries,” Kili said, trying to keep his brother from getting up.

“Yeah, well, what if she gets hurt? She’s too fragile, something could happen,” Fili retorted, his eyes still on you.

You bring a handful of berries back to the dwarves, a bright smile on your lips. “Fili, Kili, here try some. They’re very sweet.” You murmur to the two, oblivious to the tension between them.

Both brothers look up as you return with the berries, and Kili quickly grabs a handful, popping some in his mouth.

“Mmm, these are good!” he says through a mouthful of berries. Fili doesn’t take any rather just letting his eyes narrow as he studies you.

You roll your eyes at Fili, irritated with him for not taking any. You bring a berry to his lips, fingers brushing over his chin lightly. “It won’t kill you to try one.”

Fili is caught off guard by your action, feeling your fingers on his chin as you try to feed him a berry. His eyes widen, and he can feel his cheeks heat up slightly, though he tries to brush it off. 

He takes the berry from your hand, popping it into his mouth and chewing it, though he keeps his expression neutral. “Fine, it's good,” he mumbles, hoping you don't notice the redness on his cheeks.

You smile widely, happy to finally break through his gruffness. “I shall pick you some more!” Your reply is cheery as you turn back toward the path.

“Hey, wait! No, you-” Fili tries to protest, but you are already gone, leaving him dumbfounded. The other dwarves begin to laugh, noticing the redness on his face and his struggle to put words together.

“Looks like the girl has you flustered,” Bofur teases, a smirk on his face. “You've got it bad, Fili.”

“Shut up,” Fili mutters, still red in the face.

“Yeah, you’re head over heels,” Glóin chimes in, chuckling. 

Fili glares at the others, but before he can speak, you return with more berries, your smile still bright.

“Here, take as many as you’d like.” You stand in front of him, cloak sliding down one of your shoulders.

Fili's focus shifts to your cloak slipping down your shoulder, and he unconsciously watches the fabric move. He can feel the redness returning to his cheeks, and he mentally scolds himself for thinking such things.

Kili notices the slip of fabric and your casual stance, and he grins widely, nudging his brother in the side. Fili's eyes snap back up to your face, and he tries to act normal as he reaches for some berries.

“Uh... Thanks...” Fili mumbles as he takes some more berries, avoiding eye contact.

The other dwarves snicker and smirk amongst themselves, clearly enjoying Fili's awkward behavior.

Bofur clears his throat, catching your attention. “Mind if I take some?” he asks, holding out his hand.

“Of course, there’s plenty more.” You turn to him, smile still soft. You were secretly enjoying watching Fili devouring the berries, the sight sending warmth between your thighs. Bofur takes some berries from you, a sly smile on his lips.

“Thank you, lass. You’re a real sweetheart,” he says, his tone more than friendly, and he glances over at Fili, noticing the glare the young dwarf is giving him.

Your cheeks flush a soft pink as you adjust the cloak, your hands now empty. “Thank you..”

The other dwarves exchanged glances, knowing very well what Fili was thinking right now. 

Bofur grins and winks at the dwarf, clearly enjoying the situation. Fili grits his teeth, trying to keep his temper in check.

Finally, Glóin chimes in. “I think we should get some rest. We have a long journey tomorrow.”

The dwarves begin to settle down for the night, laying out their bedrolls and wrapping up in their cloaks. 

Fili, still glaring at Bofur, chooses a place near the edge of the camp for himself. He lays down on his bedroll, pulling the cloak over him, and tries to ignore the others snickering at him.

Once the camp quiets down you find yourself restlessly tossing and turning in your bedroll, the cold prickling at your skin. You sit up with a huff, shivering as you gaze around at the sleeping forms of the rest of the company.

Fili is lying on his back, staring up at the stars when he hears the rustling of your bedroll. He turns his head to look in your direction, seeing you sitting up and rubbing your arms to keep warm.

He can see you shivering, and he debates whether he should do anything. You silently pick up your bedding, sneakily moving closer to Fili. As much as he’s been avoiding you, you find him comforting. You stand over the dwarf with a sheepish smile.

Fili looks up at you standing above him, his eyes wide. He is taken by surprise, and he just stares at you for a moment, unsure of what to say.

However, he cannot deny that he is relieved to have you nearby. He watches you with a guarded expression. “What do you want?” he asks quietly, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I cannot sleep..” you murmur, placing your bedroll next to him. “It’s far too cold.” You’re using this opportunity to get closer to him, knowing that during the day he is less keen to your friendly behavior. 

Fili's heart skips a beat as you place your bedroll next to his. He takes a moment to answer, still trying to maintain his composure.

“And you thought laying next to me would help with that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Dwarves are much warmer than humans…” you murmur, crawling into your makeshift bed.

Fili swallows hard as you settle down next to him. He's not used to being so close to you, and he can feel his heart racing in his chest.

He debates with himself for a split second before he finally speaks. “You're going to freeze out here if you keep trying to sleep on your own. Move over.”

You do as he orders, scooting over to give him space next to you. Fili hesitates for a moment, but then slides into the now empty space in your bedroll, leaving just enough room between the two of you. He rolls onto his side, facing you.

“Thank you Fili..” you breathe out, subconsciously moving closer to him.

“Shh... Just shut up and go to sleep,” Fili mutters, trying to sound annoyed, but there’s no real bite to his voice.

He is painfully aware of how close you are, and he can feel you move closer to him. He shifts a bit, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

You drift off to sleep, unknowingly leaving the dwarf next to you restless. Fili lies there next to you, trying to force himself to sleep. 

But the proximity of you makes it impossible. Your soft breathing and the feeling of your body just inches away are all he can focus on. 

He looks down at you, watching as you sleep peacefully, and he can feel his heart thump in his chest.

You push your backside against his crotch, moving closer to his warmth in your sleep. 

Fili's eyes widen as you press up against him, and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He tries not to react, but his body betrays him as he can feel a certain part of him responding to your touch.

His mind races, torn between wanting to move away from you to avoid further embarrassment, or to remain still and let you sleep comfortably. You let out a few soft moans in your sleep, grinding back against him slightly.

Fili's breath hitches as you grind against him, and his mind goes blank. He is frozen, unable to move as he feels you pressing against him. Every fiber if his being is screaming at him to move, to get away from you, but another part of him desperately wants to stay right where he is.

He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan that threatens to escape. He can feel his self control slipping away.

“Fili..” you murmur his name, hands reaching back to touch his warm skin. Fili's eyes widen at the sound of his name on your lips, and the feel of your hands on his skin nearly drives him mad. He can practically feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He can't resist any longer, and he gently places one hand on your hip, holding you against him.

“Fili..” you repeat, your body moving back against his with nearly silent moans falling from your parted lips.

Fili's grip on your hip tightens as you grind against him, and he lets out a soft moan of his own. He can feel his control slipping further and further away, and he can't bring himself to care.

“Y..yeah,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, “that's it.. just like that..” 

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your hips still moving against his. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you realize your compromising position and the hardness poking into your backside.

He freezes for a moment, still holding onto your hip, unsure of whether to move away or not. However, he can't deny that the feeling of your body against him is something he doesn't want to lose.

"Uh... S...sorry," he stutters out, trying to sound unaffected, but his voice betrays him.

“Fili..” you gasp his name, a familiar wetness pooling between your legs as his chest remains pressed to your back.

Fili can practically feel his resistance crumble as you say his name, and he lets out a low moan, his grip on your hip tightening. He can barely think straight, his mind clouded by the feel of you against him.

He can feel himself pressing against you, completely at the mercy of his own body. He leans in close to your ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “What.. what do you want me to do?”

“Touch me.” You chew on your bottom lip, guiding his hand from your hip to between your thighs. “Touch me here, please..”

Fili's eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. He is both surprised and incredibly turned on by your request. He is frozen for a moment, debating whether he should listen to you, but the need in your voice is too strong to deny.

“Yeah... yeah, I can do that,” he responds, his voice barely above a whisper. He moves his hand to your thigh, his touch gentle as he slowly inches his way up your leg.

Your legs squeeze together in anticipation, head falling back against his shoulder as you let out a strangled moan.

“Easy, love,” Fili murmurs as you press your head back against his shoulder. He lets out a soft moan of his own as you react to his touch, and he moves his hand higher, his breath catching in his throat.

“You're so damn responsive, aren't you?” he mutters, his voice rough the more he feels you pressing against him.

“..Need you… please…” you sigh, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Maker..” Fili whispers, his own need growing as he listens to your pleading. He can't deny your request, not when he wants this as much as you do.

He slides his hand between your thighs, his fingers gently slipping under the fabric of your clothing. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice almost ragged. He presses his lips to your shoulder, muffling his own moan against your skin.

“Yes.. gods yes.” You gasp, legs spreading for him as you bite back moans.

“Good girl,” he mutters, the hint of a growl in his voice. He slides his fingers against you, feeling how slick you are as he groans against your shoulder.

“I don't think I can be gentle with you, love..” he teases, his breath hot against your neck. He presses his hips against you, letting you feel how badly he wants you.

“Then don’t be..” you reply, moving his hand against your wetness, craving more friction. 

Fili's hand finds the soaking wetness of your core, and his eyes close in a mix of pleasure and surprise. His fingers dance against you, tracing circles around your clit before dipping into your heat. 

His breathing becomes heavier as he feels your wetness coating his hand, and he knows you're just as lost in the moment as he is. He clamps his free hand over your lips, quieting your moans.

"Fuck..." he whispers against your neck, his hand moving with purpose as he tries to give you the release you so desperately crave.

You let out a muffled cry into his palm, your hips bucking back against his hand as he plays with your most sensitive spot. Your orgasm builds, and you can feel it threatening to consume you.

"Fili, please..." you whine, your voice muffled by his hand, your body trembling with the need for more.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you in a steady rhythm, his thumb still working on your clit. "I'm right here, love," he whispers, his voice thick with need. "Let it go, let me feel you come for me."

Your body responds to his command, your walls clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep the sound contained, but a low moan still escapes.

Fili groans into your neck, feeling your body spasm against his hand, his own body begging for release. He's never felt anything so intense, so all-consuming.

The dwarf's mind is racing, trying to process what is happening. He's never felt this way before, never wanted someone so badly that it physically hurts.

You lay there, panting and trembling, your body still reeling from the aftershocks of your climax. Fili's hand remains on your hip, his own desire raging, but he's afraid to move, afraid to break the spell that's been cast over both of you.

For a moment, the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the quiet breaths of the sleeping dwarves.

Fili's hand stills for a moment as you push down his pants, revealing his own desire. With trembling hands, you slide down your own garment's, you align him with your slick opening and gently push back, taking him inch by inch. His size fills you up, stretching you deliciously, and you let out a quiet whine of pleasure.

"Slowly," he whispers, his voice strained, "I don't want to hurt you." But you're already too far gone, eagerly taking him deeper with every push.

The feeling of you around him is overwhelming, and he has to bite his lip to keep from shouting out in pleasure. He starts to move his hips, his rhythm matching the needy movements of your own body.

You lean back into him, letting him fill you completely, his strong arms wrapping around you tightly. Your breaths become one, your hearts beating in sync as you move together in the quiet of the night, the warmth of the fire dancing across your skin.

The intensity of Fili's groan sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a muffled moan of pleasure as he continues to fill you. His hand around your mouth is the only thing keeping the sound from echoing through the camp.

His grip tightens as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly. The sensation sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you tighten around him even more. His movements become more urgent, his hips slamming into yours, and you know he's close to his own release. 

The feel of his warm breath against your ear and the sound of his muffled curses are driving you wild. Your body starts to tense up again, and you know that another orgasm is just around the corner. You bite down on his palm to keep from screaming out as it hits you, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

Fili's hand tightens even more, and then you feel him pulse inside you, his own release flooding into you as he lets out a final, muffled roar of pleasure. You both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to come back down from the height of your passion. 

Fili lays there, his arm still wrapped around you tightly, his body still shaking the aftershocks of their shared release. He can hardly believe what just happened. He has never felt anything so intense, so all-consuming before. And all his life, all he has ever known is violence and death.

But in this moment, with you in his arms, he feels something else entirely. Something he can't quite name. "Amrâlimê..." he mutters.

“Fili.” You reply, voice a breathless whisper as you lean impossibly closer to the dwarf. 

He swallows hard, his eyes closing for a moment as you say his name. He can feel you moving against him, pressing your body close to his.

He runs his hand up and down your arm, gently caressing your skin. His touch is tender and gentle, a stark contrast to the urgency with which he had just embraced you.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he speaks. "Are you okay? Did I... Did I hurt you?"

Your eyes flutter shut as you relax into his warmth. “You didn’t hurt me, my love.” You whisper, kissing his palm where your teeth left marks.

His heart skips a beat at the sound of the affectionate term you use for him, and he can feel a strange sensation in his chest.

He lifts his free hand to your chin, gently tilting your face up to look at him. He can see the tiredness in your eyes, and he knows you're exhausted.

"Good," he replies, his voice still rough with emotion. "I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you."

You smile at him, eyes half lidded. “You made me feel good.. very good..” your voice is a soft murmur as your thumb traces the side of his cheek.

A small, satisfied smile appears on his lips as he hears you say that. He can't help but be pleased that he was able to make you feel pleasured.

He turns his face into your touch, his eyes closing momentarily as he savors the feeling of your skin against his. His fingers continue to trace gentle patterns on your arm, his own exhaustion starting to catch up with him.

"Go to sleep, love." He mutters, his voice soft. "You need to rest."

You shift in his embrace, now facing him. “You’re distracting me,” you protest, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips.

He can feel a warmth spreading through him, and he realizes he doesn't want you to pull away. He tightens his arm around you, holding you flush against him.

"Me... distracting you?" he responds, his voice a rough whisper. "Says the one who was making suggestive noises in the middle of the night."

Your cheeks flush softly, “Noises meant only for you my love..” you press a kiss to his neck, nose brushing against the skin as you breathe in his scent.

[cowboybeepboop]

Gentle

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader  

Genre: Fluff & smut

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: You’re an overworked intern, and your friend Clark Kent offers to take care of you for the night. 

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, riding

Living in the city is damn tough, you’ve been working two jobs just to afford living here, and well, sending your parents money. But it’s because your dad is out of work and your younger brother is still in high school. 

What else are you to do? 

Your dream has always been to work for a newspaper, and now that you have an internship at one, you’re getting to the point that you just might lose it. 

You’ve become clumsy, and Clark Kent is always the victim of your mistakes. It started a couple of weeks ago, when you were almost late. Coming in with just two minutes to spare and a cup of hot coffee, that was when you crashed into Clark; the cup spilling onto his white shirt, seeping through the fabric, and burning his skin. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!!” Your eyes started tearing up, as you set your things down, you quickly tried to grab something to help him clean up his clothes. 

He had quickly grabbed your wrist to stop your frantic movements, his grip gentle yet firm. He could see your eyes begin to water as the guilt sets in. 

"Easy, it's alright. It was an accident." He gently let go of your wrist, his expression soft and comforting.

Clark was gentle, even when you had burned him and ruined his shirt. Honestly, it was hard to understand how he could be so forgiving. Especially since you’re always getting in his way, in particular. Lois and Jimmy have taken note of this and sort of take it into their hands to not let it go. 

They’re not mean, not intentionally, you know that. It’s just they care about him and you *are* always causing him trouble. It’s been 8 months since you started at the Daily Planet and you’re getting tired. 

Your work has been getting sloppy, rushed, and you’ve been distracted these past couple of weeks. Small mistakes are starting to get on Lois’s nerves, and you’ve been overhearing her complaining about how you *used* to be so good at your job. 

The truth of the matter is: you’re not clumsy, you’re not slacking, you’re just exhausted. You’ve been working two jobs, barely sleeping some nights, yet still doing your best in both. It’s a wonder you haven’t lost either of them yet. 

When you come in from lunch, you overhear Lois and Jimmy talking to Clark. “I mean, I just don’t get it.” She says, “Clark, Y/N is perpetually in your way. All she’s been doing is causing you trouble.” 

It was Jimmy’s turn now, “I mean, it started, with her burning you with coffee, then she broke your mug, and almost deleted that article you were in the middle of while showing her how our software update works.” 

The guilt seeps into your skin, your bones. You feel sick to your stomach while tears poke at your eyes. They’re not wrong. You don’t deserve his forgiveness or kindness, yet he always gives you it. 

Clark has been your closest friend since you started here. He’s always here for you, making sure you understand how things work in the building and being there to give advice. He sticks up for you, even when you’ve been bugging him. 

Kent’s eyes meet your watery ones as you swallow your pain and walk past the three of them. He watches your every move as you walk past the three of them, concern washing over his features. 

He knew you were having trouble adapting to the fast-paced atmosphere of the newspaper, but he never once thought you did it intentionally. In fact, he found your clumsiness to be endearing. He stood there, conflicted, his thoughts a tangled mess.

The rest of the day passes by with you ignoring your coworkers, Jimmy attempts to apologize after Kent’s scolding, but you just shrug it off, pretending you don’t know what he was talking about. 

By the evening, you and Clark are the only two left; the office is filled with the sound of papers printing and his occasional typing. Grabbing the stack of pages in your hands, you take a deep breath, the weight of the day still heavy in your mind. 

Kent had hoped to catch you after the day ended. He had a feeling you had overheard him talking with the others earlier, and he wanted to reassure you. 

As he walks through the halls, he notices you exiting the printing room, lost in your own thoughts. He calls your name softly, causing you to jolt a bit as you turn to face him. 

His eyes take in your tired appearance, the dark circles under your eyes, and the slumped shoulders. He knew the telltale signs of overworking and lack of rest.

“Oh, hi, Clark!” You put on a smile, forcing your face to light up as you look at him. “You’re here late tonight.”

Clark noticed the forced smile on your face, recognizing the facade. He stepped closer to you, concern etched on his features. "I could say the same thing about you," he replied, gently nudging your shoulder playfully. "You've been working yourself to the bone lately."

"I'm just trying to make a good impression." You pout your lips slightly as you look up at him, gulping at his closeness yet craving more of it. "Especially after all the trouble I've caused..." 

Clark's expression softens as he hears your words, his hand instinctively reaching out to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You don't have to overwork yourself to make a good impression." His gaze drifts to your eyes, noticing the exhaustion in them, and he sighs softly. "Besides, you haven't been causing trouble intentionally. We all have our fair share of accidents."

Your lip trembles slightly as you take a steadying breath, eyes beginning to water slightly. "Thank you, Clark," 

He takes notice of the tremble in your lip and the wetness in your eyes, his heart sinking at the sight. He had a feeling there was something deeper going on, but he didn't want to pressure you. 

"Hey, hey." He steps even closer, his hand now gently on your shoulder, his voice soft. "Let me  ask you something."

"Mhm, what's up?" Your eyebrows furrow as you try to regain your composure, eyes focused on his features.  

Clark studies your expressive eyes, his concern growing as you try to hide your emotions. He takes a moment, choosing his words with care, before speaking. "You've been exhausted lately. And... well, to be frank, you don't look like you've been sleeping or eating properly."

His eyes roam your figure briefly, noting the fatigue etched on your face, before meeting your gaze again. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Oh," You pause, turning away and heading back to the main floor to put the papers on your boss's desk. "I've just been busy, I guess..."

Clark follows closely behind, watching you avoid his gaze and offering a flimsy answer. He could sense there was more to it, the exhaustion in your demeanor speaking volumes. 

As you place the papers on the desk, he steps closer, standing next to you. He gently takes the remaining papers from your hands and sets them down, his eyes not leaving your face. "You can be honest with me, you know." His voice is gentle, his touch tender.

"Clark..." Your voice nearly breaks as you speak, eyes trained on the floor while you lean against the wooden table. 

Hearing your voice crack, Clark's concern deepens. He gently places a hand on your arm, his thumb gently stroking the skin. "Hey, look at me," he encourages softly, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul.

He knew there was something weighing heavily on you, something you couldn't or wouldn't share. And it was tearing him apart to see you so distraught.

You cautiously look up, eyes meeting his warm and comforting gaze. "I'm okay, really." Your lips part as you watch his expression. "I just haven't been sleeping well."

Clark sees through your attempt to brush off his concern with a half-truth. He takes a step closer, his hand sliding from your arm to your shoulder, gently massaging away the tension he finds there. 

"You can't fool me, Y/N," he says quietly, his eyes searching yours. "It's more than just sleeplessness. I can tell. You're pushing yourself too hard, and it's taking a toll on you."

"I really want this job, genuinely." You sigh, hands gripping the edge of the desk. "I've always wanted to work for a paper. But as an intern, the pay... It's not great." 

Your hand reaches up to touch his, fingers brushing over his knuckles. "I've been working two jobs, I never have a day off, and I'm barely getting five hours of sleep most nights." A relieved breath falls from your mouth as you finally admit your hardships to someone. 

Clark's heart aches as he listens to your words, the weight of your struggles hitting him like a truck. Without hesitation, he steps closer to you, positioning himself between your legs.

With a gentle yet firm pull, he tugs you into a tight, comforting bear hug. His strong arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his embrace, providing a safe haven for the storm of emotions that you've been holding back. 

He holds you close, his chin resting on the top of your head, as he whispers softly, "You should have told me sooner."

Your arms just wrap around his waist, face buried in his chest. Tears prickle in your eyes and finally fall this time, soft sobs causing your body to shake against his. The weight of the situation feels like it's been lifted from your shoulders as he holds you. 

When you're done, you feel utterly exhausted, tiredness creeping through your whole body. "Clark," you mumble, voice muffled by his tear-stained button-down. 

Clark's heart aches as he feels you go limp in his arms, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. He pulls back slightly, placing a gentle hand under your chin to lift your face to meet his gaze.

His eyes soften with concern, his thumb lightly wiping away the tear tracks on your cheeks. "Yeah, sweetheart?" he asks softly, his voice filled with tender worry.

"Why are you so nice to me..." Your face is red, eyes puffy and swollen as you look at him through heavy lashes. 

Clark's heart swells at your question, his touch tender as he wipes away your tears. He studies your features, the exhaustion etched on your face stirring something within him.

There's a reason he's always been more patient with you, more forgiving of your 'mistakes'. It's not just because you're an eager learner, or because you genuinely seem to care about doing well here. 

No, it's because Clark has developed a secret crush on you.

You reach up, hand holding onto his wrist, eyebrows furrowed while you wait for his response. Kent’s heart skips a beat as your fingers wrap around his wrist, your touch sending a shiver down his spine. 

He knew he had to tread carefully, his secret feelings for you hidden beneath a layer of concern and friendship. Taking a moment, his gaze drops to where your hand rests on his wrist, before lifting to meet your eyes. "Because I care about you, Y/N."

His voice is soft, tinged with an underlying depth that he hoped you wouldn't detect. "You're not just a coworker to me."

"Can I stay with you tonight?" The question is out of the blue, but you find yourself not wanting to be away from him.  "I know it's a strange ask but..."

Clark's eyes widen at your unexpected request, his heart leaping in his chest. He wasn't expecting such an intimate request, but hearing the vulnerability in your voice, he knew he couldn't say no.

"Yeah, yeah, of course you can," he responds, his voice soft and reassuring. "It's not strange at all." He takes a moment, his gaze roaming over your features, noticing the exhaustion more acutely now. "I just have one condition."

"Yes?" You straighten up, fully standing in front of him now, your hands wiping at your cheeks. "What's your condition?"

Clark watches you wipe at your cheeks, a tender expression on his face as he notices the exhaustion evident in your movements. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze steady as he speaks.

"The condition is this: tonight, you're not allowed to worry about anything. No work, no stress, no overthinking."

His hand gently cups your chin, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "Tonight, you're just going to rest and let me take care of you, alright?"

"Okay," You nod, wrapping your arms around him for another hug. "Okay."

“Good,” He cradles your head against his chest, taking a deep breath before letting go. “Let’s get back to my apartment and get you to bed.” Clark smiles, brushing your shoulder with his hand. 

"I'll grab my things," You smile up at him, before turning away and gathering your stuff. 

Kent watches you gather your things, a tender smile on his face. He can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards you, knowing full well how exhausted you are. He notices the way your shoulders slump and how your movements are slower than usual, a result of your constant overwork.

Once you're ready, he steps closer, reaching out to take your bag from your hands. "Here, let me carry that."

"You're quite the gentleman." You hand him your bag.

Once you arrive at his apartment, he guides you inside, having you change into one of his old shirts while he heats up some food for you. As you come back out, Clark can't help but steal glances at you in his clothing. 

The sight of you in his shirt ignites something within him, but he quickly shakes it away, reminding himself that tonight is about taking care of you. When you step into the kitchen, he sets a plate of food in front of you, gesturing for you to sit. "Here you go," he says, smiling softly. "Eat up, you need the sustenance."

"Thank you." You take the plate from him, admiring the suite he lives in. "This is a beautiful place, Clark." The two of you eat dinner together in silence. It’s a Friday evening, and tomorrow is your only day off from work. 

He turns on a movie as both of you relax on the couch, your eyes fluttering shut here and there. Clark notices as your eyes flutter closed occasionally, the exhaustion is catching up with you. He gently adjusts his position on the couch, his arm moving around your shoulders to pull you closer. 

The warmth of your body against his side feels comforting, and he can't help but steal glances at you, admiring your peaceful expression.

The movie plays on in the background, but he finds himself paying less attention to the screen and more attention to the way you relax against him. His thumb gently rubs soothing circles on your shoulder, the touch soft and caring.

You wake up the next morning, nuzzled in his bed, his sheets smelling of his musk and cologne. Looking to your side, you notice that it doesn’t appear he slept in the bed last night, you stretch your arms out and yawn. 

“Clark?” You call out, feet hovering over the cool wooden floor. 

The sound of your voice, still groggy with sleep, drifts through the apartment, and almost instantly, Clark emerges from the kitchen. 

His hair is ruffled, and he's in a white tee and plaid pajama pants, a stark contrast from his normally prim appearance. He looks a bit tired himself, but when his eyes land on you, a small smile curves his lips.

"Hey there, sleepyhead." He makes his way toward the bed, sitting down on the edge next to you. "You slept well?"

"Perfectly," You grin, scooting closer to him before continuing. "Where did you sleep?" Clark notices your closeness and can't help but feel a flutter in his chest. He shifts slightly so that he's facing you, his eyes roaming over your sleepy face.

"I slept on the couch," he replies, his tone casual, yet his gaze is filled with a hint of affection. "Didn't want to disturb your much-needed beauty sleep."

"Clark," You chew on your bottom lip, settling on your knees as you lift your hands to cup his face. "I need to tell you something." 

Clark stiffens slightly at your touch, his heart rate picking up a bit. He's not sure what to expect, but he does know that the sudden seriousness in your voice makes him both nervous and hopeful.

He meets your gaze, his expression a mix of anticipation and slight concern. "Yeah? What is it?" He places his hands on top of yours, gently squeezing them.

You adjust yourself, taking a deep breath before straddling his lap. "I..." you begin, sighing as the words get caught in your throat. 

Clark's breath hitches as you move to his lap, his hands instinctively going to your hips, holding you steady. The action is intimate, and it sends a jolt of heat through him. 

He watches you closely, his eyes trying to read your expression, his fingers gently gripping your hips tighter. "Go on," he urges softly, his voice gravelly. "You can tell me anything, sweetheart."

"Fuck," You whine, finding it annoyingly hard to get the words out. Instead you just press your lips against his, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Clark is taken aback momentarily by your kiss, but his surprise quickly melts away as he returns the sentiment, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulls you closer. He gasps as your fingers tug on his hair, his lips moving against yours in a heated fervor.

His tongue lightly teases at the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, his mind and body suddenly consumed with desire. His fingers dig into your hips, desperate to pull you even closer, to feel more of you against him.

Your hips grind against his, your body aching and desperate for more of him. Your tongues dance together as you push him back against the mattress.

As you push him back onto the bed, Clark moans into the kiss, his body responding urgently to the press of your hips against his. He can feel the desperation in your touch, mirroring the growing desire within him.

His hands slide beneath your borrowed shirt, roaming over your curves, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He breaks the kiss, his lips finding your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, lost in a haze of desire.

Breaking away from the kiss, your eyes lock onto Clark's, filled with an intense hunger that matches his own. Your hands trace the contours of his chest, pulling the fabric over his head. His breath hitches as your palms glide over his abs, feeling the muscles contract beneath your touch.

Leaning in, you press feather-light kisses along his jawline, down his neck, and across his chest, teasing the sensitive peaks of his nipples with your teeth before continuing your journey south. 

His hands are in your hair now, guiding you, urging you to explore further. You slide his pajama pants down, then his underwear, exposing his aching erection to your hungry gaze. 

You take his length in your hand, stroking it gently, watching the pleasure flicker in his eyes. He groans, arching up into your touch, his hips bucking in silent demand. 

With a knowing smile, you position yourself above him, sliding him inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that has him trembling beneath you. Once fully seated, you begin to move, setting a rhythm that's both torturously slow and incredibly intimate. 

You grind down on him, rolling your hips in a way that makes him moan your name. His hands move to your waist, helping to guide you, increasing the pace.

You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, the friction of your bodies causing sparks to fly. He reaches up pulling away his shirt, his hand cups one of your breasts while he sucks the nipple of the other. 

Your breath mingles with his, your every exhale hot against his skin as you ride him. Your movements become more urgent, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds.

Clark's eyes are on yours, watching the passion play out in the depths of your gaze. He can feel you getting closer, your muscles tightening around him, your breaths growing more ragged. 

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice low and gruff, urging you on.

With one hand, you reach back to grip the bedpost, using it for leverage as you increase your pace, your body moving in a symphony of desire. The other hand finds his, our fingers entwining as the world around you narrows to just the two of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the quiet apartment.

You lean back, giving him an unobstructed view of your breasts bouncing with each thrust. His eyes devour the sight, his hips rising to meet yours, matching your rhythm. His hands slide up to cup them, thumbs flicking at the peaks until you're gasping his name.

The tension coils tighter, your movements becoming erratic as you chase your climax. Clark can feel it building within you, his own need reaching a fever pitch. 

The sight of you, lost in pleasure, sends him over the edge, his own climax following closely after yours. You collapse onto him, breathless, your heart hammering against his chest. 

The room is filled with the sound of your panting, your bodies slick with sweat, but there's no denying the intimate bond that's just been forged between the two of you.

[cowboybeepboop]

Home

“I missed that… I missed you touching me like I belong to you.”

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader  

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3k

Summary: You finally reconnect with Clark after your breakup and nothing has changed, nothing at all. 

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight arguing, fingering

a/n: Short and sweet I hope! As always send any requests you might have my way <3

Clark Kent was destined for good things, great things. You knew it, and all of Smallville knew it. 

But that’s why when your friends teased you about being the one thing holding him back, you snapped. Breaking his heart was never your intention, yet you knew it was the only way to push him away. 

“Fuck Clark, you’re too clingy, you’re too much.” You screamed at him, eyes filled with unshed tears. He looked at you like you just killed his dog, his hand reaching out to touch your face, but you slapped it away. 

His breath hitched, hand stinging from the slap he didn’t block, didn’t even think to block. “Y/N… I…” His voice had cracked, raw and quiet. “I just love you. I thought that was enough.”

He took a shaky step back, eyes glistening under the soft light of your living room. “I don’t—I don’t know how to be less me.”

“It’s not.” You had hissed, growing angrier at yourself for the hurt in his gaze. “I don’t want to waste my life with you, I don’t want to wake up next to you and spend the rest of my life pretending that you’re not too much for me.” 

The words were calculated, aimed to finally push him just far enough away that he wouldn’t fight back or try to. 

Clark moved to Metropolis soon after your breakup, leaving you where you belonged, going where he could thrive and do more. 

That was six years ago, yet it plagued your mind day after day; no matter what you do, you can't get it out of your mind. Especially now that you're in Metropolis for an interview with one Lois Lane. 

She’s doing a story on small-town heroes, and apparently that includes you. 

“So, Y/N, Smallville’s favorite daughter turned community hero—impressive. I’ll admit, when I heard the town nominated you for ‘Most Likely to Save a Cow and Still Make It to Morning Meeting,’ I was skeptical. But then I saw the numbers: three after-school programs, that literacy drive last winter… even got the mayor to fix that pothole on Elm Street no one dared complain about since ’09.” 

She leans forward with a half-smile, pen tapping against her notepad, “You’ve got grit. I like that. Most small-town do-gooders want their names on plaques or bake sales named after them. But you? You keep your head down and actually *do* the work.” 

“Now spill—what’s your secret? Guilt? Ambition? Or did you just get really tired of watching kids trip over that pothole? And don’t give me some humble nonsense, I can smell it from a mile away. Believe me, I’ve interviewed enough farm boys turned firefighters to know the type.��� 

Your eyes light up with amusement as she questions you, her tactics strong. As the interview concludes, you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “Hey, Lois.” Clark’s tone is soft and kind, same as always. 

Clark freezes mid-step, coffee cup hovering near his lips, eyes locking onto yours like time just snapped backward. "...Y/N?"  

His voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper, all the calm professionalism melting into something raw, surprised, unguarded. He lowers the cup slowly, as if he moves too fast, you might vanish.

"I didn’t know you were in town." He glances at Lois, then back to you, that familiar sheepish half-smile tugging at his mouth—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not yet.

"Clark," You breathe, standing from your seat, eyes searching his face; memorizing the changes to his features. 

"You look good,” he says softly, almost involuntarily, then immediately winces like he forgot how to edit himself. He clears his throat, shifts on his feet, still towering, still somehow awkward in the best way.  

“Sorry. That was… not very professional.” He offers a lopsided grin, fingers tapping once against his coffee cup. “I mean, welcome to Metropolis. You’re here for the story? Smallville’s hero returns?”  

His eyes hold that same warmth, the kind that used to wrap around you like sunlight, but there's distance now, careful and quiet, like he’s standing just outside the door of a room he used to live in.

“Clark, we should talk…” Your eyebrows knit together, and Lois quietly steps out, not wanting to get in the middle of something for the first time in her life. 

He nods, just once, like he’s been bracing for this moment since the day he left. “Yeah,” he says quietly, voice thick with something unspoken. “We probably should.”

He glances toward the window, where sunlight spills across the newsroom floor like a memory. Then back at you, jaw softening. “Walk with me?”

Without waiting for an answer—because some things between you were always automatic—he starts toward the elevator, trusting you’ll follow.

And you do.

The silence between you isn’t empty; it’s full of six years of almosts and what ifs, of words too heavy to carry but too loud to ignore. When the elevator doors close behind you both, he finally exhales.

“I kept every letter I didn’t send,” he admits, staring at the glowing numbers above the door. “Figured if I wrote them… I wouldn’t have to say them.” 

"Clark," You reach out to him, hands holding his sides. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Your voice is barely even a whisper, eyes teary and full of regret.

His breath hitches the second you touch him, like your hands are electricity and his body forgot how to resist. For a heartbeat, he leans into you, eyes closing like he’s savoring the warmth of your palms through his shirt.

Then he pulls back, just an inch, but just enough to look at you, really look. His own eyes glisten, but there's no anger there. Just sadness. And care. Always care.

“Don’t,” he whispers, voice rough around the edges. “Don’t say it like it’s too late.” He covers one of your hands with his own, big, warm, steady, and turns slightly so your touch lingers on his side instead of falling away completely.

“I never stopped missing you,” he admits quietly, almost embarrassed by the truth of it. 

"Just when Chloe said that I was holding you back." You step closer, chest pressing into his body. "I felt like you would never get anywhere if you were stuck with me all the time..." 

Your lip trembles as you gaze up at him, the man you've loved your whole life and stupidly thought you could run away from. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in his soothing musk, the scent that kept you steady for so long in the past. 

He doesn’t hesitate this time.

His arms wrap around you—strong, sure, like coming home—and he rests his chin gently atop your head with a soft sigh that feels like six years of silence finally breaking.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs, voice rumbling through his chest and into your bones. “Missed you. Your stubborn heart. The way you always push people away when you’re scared… even when they’re not going anywhere.”

One hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair.

“You were never in my way,” he whispers. “You were the reason I wanted to be better. Still are.”

"Clark, my love." You rub your cheek against him, feeling the fear of the past go finally. "I love you, I'm sorry I ruined things... I," 

He pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, thumbs sweeping away the tears you didn’t even realize fell.

“Shhh,” he breathes, voice thick with love and laughter and something like wonder. “We didn’t ruin anything, Y/N. We were just… young. Scared. Dumb.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips, warm, familiar, his.

“We’re here now,” he whispers. “And if you’re still offering… I’d really like to try again.” 

His forehead rests gently against yours, breathing you in like he’s never letting go again. "Yes, please, yes." You laugh softly, tears streaming down your cheeks again. "I'd like that, more than anything."

His smile breaks wide, then bright, hopeful, Clark, and he pulls you into a hug so tight it feels like gravity shifts.

“I’ve missed that laugh,” he murmurs into your hair. “Missed you. Every damn day.”He pulls back just enough to brush his lips against your forehead, lingering there like a promise.

“C’mon,” he says softly, taking your hand in his. “Let’s get out of here. I know a quiet spot in Centennial Park… sun’s still up. We’ve got six years of catching up to do.” 

And for the first time in forever, the future feels exactly where it should be, with him.

"Or you could show me to your place," You squeeze his hand tight, "I want to see what you call home now." 

He freezes for half a beat, eyes widening just slightly, like he’s both thrilled and terrified by the idea. Then that slow, lopsided grin spreads across his face, warm and a little shy.

“You always did like sneaking into my room after curfew,” he teases, voice low and playful. “Just… fair warning—my place’s kind of boring. Rent-controlled studio, mismatched dishes, one suspiciously fast Wi-Fi router.”

He tugs your hand gently toward the exit, shoulders loose now, like he’s finally breathing again.

“But yeah,” he adds softly, glancing back at you with that look, the one that always makes your knees weak, “I’d really like to show you where I’ve been… especially if it means you’re staying awhile.”

"What can I say, my love?" Your lips press to his cheek, "I've got years of missing you to make up for." Your tone is suggestive, voice a small whisper against his ear as your free hand slides down his chest.

You barely make it through his door before hands are all over each other, your fingers swiftly unbuttoning his shirt to touch the tanned muscles hidden from view. 

He kicks the door shut behind you, barely breaking the kiss, hands sliding up your back like he’s been dreaming of this for years—because he has.

The moment your fingers pop his second button, he lets out a low groan, tipping his head back with a breathless laugh. “Y/N… you always did have zero patience.”

But then your palms flatten against his chest, warm, familiar, and something in him unravels.

“God,” he whispers, eyes fluttering closed as you explore what six years have done to him. “I missed that… I missed you touching me like I belong to you.”

His voice drops to a rumble as he pulls you flush against him. “Because I do. Always have.”

“Clark, I want you. God I want you so bad…” Your hands slide down his chest to his waistband. 

Clark's eyes snap open at your touch, pupils dilated and dark with desire. You can feel his heart hammering against your palm, echoing the desperate rhythm of your own. "Y/N," he says, voice hoarse with want, "are you sure?"

You nod, a wicked smile playing on your lips as you push him against the wall, kisses turning frantic and demanding. His grip on you tightens, one hand sliding down to palm your ass and lift you slightly, the other tangling in your hair to tilt your head for a deeper kiss. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against his growing erection, feeling his arousal through the layers of fabric separating you. The air is charged with static, a heady mix of nostalgia and raw need.

He carries you to the bed, laying you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes in the sight of you, sprawled out and yearning. You can see the restraint wavering, his hunger barely contained. 

His hands skim over your body, tracing old memories with new intent. He kisses your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You arch into him, nails digging into his back as his mouth moves down, peeling away your clothes with an urgency that matches your own.

The room is a whirlwind of sensation as he kisses and touches you, relearning every curve and freckle. His teeth graze your nipple, making you gasp, and your hips rock up to meet the pressure of his hand on your core. 

He chuckles against your skin, the sound dark and thrilling, before he bites down gently. Your legs tighten around him, urging him closer, needing more.

"Clark," you pant, "please, don't hold back."

He nods, eyes fierce, and you feel his power, his heat, his love, all coiled and ready to be unleashed. The air in the room seems to thicken with anticipation. He leans back to look at you, stripping away his own clothes with a speed that still takes your breath away. 

His gaze lingers on your face, memorizing your expression before he moves down your body, kissing and licking and worshiping every inch of you.

When he finally settles between your legs, you're trembling, begging for his touch. He slides two fingers inside you, slow and sure, watching as your eyes roll back in pleasure. His thumb circles your clit with expert precision, sending shockwaves through your body.

"Clark," you whisper again, your voice a plea.

He doesn't need the words. He recognizes the desperation in your tone, the need in your eyes. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's both sweet and claiming as he starts to move inside you.

The world falls away, leaving only the two of you and the desperate dance of your bodies. Six years of separation, six years of longing, come crashing together in a symphony of sensation that feels like coming home.

And in that moment, you both know that you never truly left. That love, like gravity, has always pulled you back to each other.

With a growl of desire, Clark releases your mouth and strips away his pants in a flurry of fabric. His erection springs free, thick and hard, a testament to his need for you. He positions himself at your slick entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Ready?" he whispers, the question both a promise and a plea.

You nod, unable to find the words to express the ache deep within you. With a single, powerful thrust, he fills you completely, burying himself to the hilt. Your eyes widen with a gasp, the sudden fullness making you feel alive in a way you haven’t in so long.

Clark starts to move, his strokes deep and sure, each one hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. His eyes never stray from yours, his gaze burning with a mix of passion and possession that makes you wetter, makes you clench around him.

He remembers every inch of you, every curve and hollow, and uses that knowledge to drive you wild. His thumb finds your clit again, applying just the right amount of pressure, his other hand sliding up to pinch a nipple as his hips rock into you with an intensity that steals your breath.

You wrap your legs around him tighter, urging him closer, needing all of him. He obliges, his body sliding against yours in a delicious friction that sets your skin alight. 

The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your desperate cries and his low, guttural grunts.

You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, the orgasm building, threatening to break you apart. "Clark, oh god, I'm gonna cum," you moan, your voice barely recognizable.

He smiles wickedly, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot over and over. "Cum for me, Y/N," he commands, his voice a dark whisper. "I've missed watching you fall apart."

And just like that, you do, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He watches you with fierce adoration, feeling your pussy clench around his cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge.

He slows, savoring the feel of you, before picking up speed again. His eyes are dark, hooded with lust as he brings you to the brink once more.

This time when you come, he follows, his release hot and powerful, filling you up. He collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged as he kisses your neck, whispering sweet nothings that feel like everything.

For a moment, you just lay there, tangled in each other, hearts racing in sync. Then he pulls out, and you feel the warmth of him spill onto your thighs, a messy, beautiful reminder of what you've just shared.

Clark rolls to the side, taking you with him, his arms still wrapped around you as if he's afraid to let go. "I've missed you so much," he murmurs, kissing your forehead.

You snuggle closer, your body still humming with satisfaction. "I've missed you too," you whisper back, finally feeling complete again.

He pulls you tighter against him, your back to his chest, one arm draped heavy and warm across your waist. His breath ghosts over your shoulder as he presses a lazy kiss just below your ear.

“Mmm… six years,” he murmurs, voice low and drowsy with satisfaction. “And somehow, you still fit right here like no time passed.”

His fingers trace slow circles on your hip, reverent, like he’s memorizing the shape of you all over again.

“You know,” he adds with a sleepy grin, “I used to dream about this. Woke up more than once thinking I could feel you beside me.” He pauses, then whispers into your hair: “Never thought it’d be real, and damn this is better than the dream.”

Outside, Metropolis hums its endless night song—but in this quiet room, it feels like the world started breathing again.

“And Y/N?” He kisses your shoulder. “No more running. Promise me that.”

“I promise Clark.” You nuzzle against his bare chest, “I never want to leave your side again.” 

His arms tighten around you—gentle but unbreakable—and for the first time in years… home isn’t a place. It’s him.

[cowboybeepboop]

Mercy

“I’m gonna make sure every breath out of that mouth is mine.”

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Romantic smut

Word count: 7.4k 

Summary: You’ve always had a one-sided feud with the ever charming Clark Kent but when he comes to your rescue and nurses you back to health, you finally let your facade go. 

Warnings: Vomiting, oral f&m receiving, unprotected sex, sweet kent aftercare

a/n: This is a long one lol! But, I really loved how this came out and hope you feel the same <3 If you have any requests feel free to send them to me!! Lots of love 

Within the vibrant Daily Planet office, a palpable tension hung in the air, as the cacophony of journalistic endeavor filled the space. 

Amidst the chaos, Clark Kent, with his unassuming smile and impeccable attire, sat at his desk, surrounded by a halo of goodwill that seemed to follow him wherever he went. His workspace was a testament to his earnestness, papers neatly arranged, and a faint smile playing on his lips as he interacted with his colleagues. 

Meanwhile, across the room, you found yourself seated, stealing glances at Clark through the glow of your computer screen. Despite his unwavering kindness towards everyone, you couldn't shake the resentment that had festered since your intern days. 

As you watched him share a laugh with your colleagues, you couldn't help but wonder why Clark remained so unflappably friendly, seemingly oblivious to the tension that stretched taut between you. 

Unbeknownst to you, he harbored a secret infatuation, his heart fluttering every time your paths crossed, utterly baffled by the chilly reception you always gave him.

Lois pops by your desk, taking a seat on the edge of your desk. “Jimmy and I are headed out for lunch, care to join?” She grins, arms crossed over her chest. “Although, Clark is coming with.” 

You notice the two men standing by Jimmy's desk, chatting. “Ah, no thank you. Not because of Clark, rather I’ve got a killer headache.” 

Taking a soft sigh you rub your temple, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m gonna rest my head for a bit.” 

"Headache, huh?" Lois smirks, not buying it for a second. "Funny — you only get those *after* Clark walks by." She leans in, lowering her voice with playful suspicion. 

"You know, most people fake illnesses to avoid their exes. You’re doing it to avoid... what? A guy who brings you coffee when you’re grumpy and proofreads your articles for typos?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s got a teensy little crush they’re hiding under that scowl."

You groan and drop your head onto your folded arms. And just like that, she struts off toward Clark and Jimmy.

"Let's go, boys," she announces brightly. You peek up just in time to catch Clark glancing over, concerned eyes, dumb hopeful smile.

Of course he looked worried.

Of course he did.

Ugh. Worst part?

It was kind of adorable.

This time you weren’t faking a thing, she’s not wrong. You do have a habit of pretending but today? It’s real. 

You lay your head on the cool wood table, eyes shutting as the office finally quiets down; the majority of the staff off for lunch or headed home for the day. 

The office is quiet, golden afternoon light spilling across the newsroom floor. You’re still curled at your desk, forehead pressed to your arm, when a soft creak, familiar footsteps, pauses nearby.

“Hey… you still alive over here?” Clark sets down a paper bag on his own desk and steps closer, voice low like he’s afraid of startling you. The sunlight catches the curve of his glasses, hiding his eyes just enough, but not enough to mask that dumb, gentle concern.

“I brought back soup. From that little place Lois hates. The one with the spicy dumplings.”  He hesitates, then reaches out—barely—a hand hovering near your shoulder like he’s not sure if he should touch. His voice drops into something softer, almost shy.

“You looked like you could use it. And… I may have also stolen an extra ginger tea from the break room. For science.”  

"...And maybe because I remember you drink it when you’re actually sick and not just avoiding me."  Clark mumbles, barely audible.

“Mmm,” you let out a small hum, somewhat between a mumble and a snore. Shifting slightly you nuzzle your face in your arms.

Clark freezes mid-breath, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. The hand near your shoulder stills, hovering like a question.

“Okay. Adorable. Definitely noted.”  He clears his throat quietly, trying—and failing—to hide a grin. Then he carefully sets the soup and tea on your desk, nudging them just close enough for the steam to reach you.

“I’m gonna… leave these here. And pretend I didn’t just watch you nuzzle your arms like a sleepy golden retriever.” He lingers for a moment too long, watching the way the light catches your hair, then turns to go… but pauses.

Slowly, almost without thinking, he reaches out and brushes the back of his knuckles lightly against your shoulder. Just once. A whisper of contact.

You startle awake, the light touch causing your eyes to flutter open, holding surprise but, for once, no hostility. “Clark?” You mumble, voice a sleepy murmur. 

“Ah—!”  He jerks back like he touched a live wire, face instantly pink. 

“I—uh. I was just—soup. Tea. Left it here. For you.”  He stammers. Clark gestures wildly at the desk, nearly knocking over the ginger tea in his panic.

“You looked... peaceful. For once.” He smirks slightly. “No scowling at my shoes or side-eyeing my pen choice."

You narrow your eyes at him, but they soften almost immediately, feeling too sick to actually argue or fight. “Thank you, Kent.” Your hand has a slight shake to it when you reach for the tea.

Clark notices the shake instantly. His smirk fades into something quieter, tender, almost, and without a word, he reaches out, steadying the cup with one hand until yours lands on it. His fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

“You’re really not faking this time, huh?” He says softly, voice warm with concern.

He pulls up a chair beside your desk, close enough to talk quietly, far enough not to crowd you, and sits with that easy grace of his like he belongs right there.

“Next time,” he says gently, “you could’ve just said ‘Hey Clark, I feel like death’ and I would’ve brought soup *and* cancelled my lunch plans.”

A small smile tugs at his lips.

“But then again… if you’d actually asked nicely? It wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying sneaking back early to play nurse.”

“I don’t need you to sit and help me,” you roll your eyes, sipping on the tea. “I’m fine.”

Clark doesn’t move. Just leans back in the chair, hands up like he’s surrendering, but his eyes are all soft focus and quiet amusement.

“Right. Of course. My mistake.” He nods solemnly. “You’re fine. Totally fine. Sipping tea like a martyr and glaring at me through fever dreams? Classic ‘I’m perfectly okay’ behavior.”

He lets out a low chuckle, then lowers his voice to a mock whisper: “Good thing I didn’t bring extra napkins or anything. Wouldn’t want to *help* the perfectly fine woman who definitely doesn’t need me hovering.”

And then, because he just can't help it, he reaches out again, slow this time, and brushes a loose strand of hair off your forehead with the back of his knuckles.

“You're warm,” he murmurs, not pulling away fast at all.

“And don't say 'I'm fine' again unless you want me to start narrating your symptoms dramatically for the office when they get back." 

A pause.

"...I do excellent sick-voice impressions."

You half debate coming up with some snarky reply, keeping the rivalry up, but you don’t even have the strength to. Reaching for the soup you pull it close to you. “Maybe I’m not fine, but you don’t have to feel obliged to help, Clark.”

You groan, head spinning once again. Clark’s smile fades completely now, his voice dropping into something warm and steady, like he’s speaking not as the office charmer, but as someone who cares a little too much to stay at arm's length.

“I don’t feel obliged,” he says softly. “I want to. There’s a difference.”

He takes the lid off your soup like it's second nature and stirs it once with the spoon, just enough to cool it down. Then holds it out, waiting.

“Here. Open wide for the world-famous Clark Kent Care Package: Level Two.” He smirks, just a flicker. “Level One was tea and silence. Level Three is me singing folk songs until you either laugh or throw something at me.”

His hand stays there—steady—with no intention of pulling back even if you glare (which you don't). The sunlight still pools around your desk like a secret, and for once, there are no witnesses to how gently he looks at you.

“Come on,” he coaxes quietly. “Just let me do this.”

“Fine, but just this once.” You turn to face him better, mouth opening warily, lips trembling slightly. Your eyes are dazed, half-lidded and seeming like there’s nothing behind them. 

“And I’m not a fan of Folk, so you better have some lullabies prepared.” Clark grins—slow and soft, like he just won something quiet and precious.

"One lullaby, coming right up," he murmurs, holding the spoon steady. "But only if you promise not to fall asleep mid-bite. I cannot explain to Lois why I let her star reporter choke on chicken dumplings under my watch."

He blows gently across the spoon before offering it again, eyes crinkling at the corners. "And for the record? Folk *is* lullabies. Just... with more flannel and existential dread."

The spoon hovers. His thumb brushes a fleck of soup from the edge of your lip without thinking—gentle, automatic—and then he freezes for half a second, realizing what he did.

But instead of pulling away or stammering an apology like usual?

He stays.

Fingers lingering near your mouth. Warmth in his gaze that wasn't there before.

"Just eat," he says quietly. "And save the sass for when you can actually stand without swaying." Sunlight wraps around you both like a held breath.

Your hand falls to his thigh as you concentrate on chewing the dumpling he gave you, using his strong leg to keep yourself steady. 

“Don’t get used to me holding a conversation with such little sass, Kent.” Your eyes raise to meet his, lips parted ever so slightly as you wait for the next bite.

Clark goes very, very still.

The spoon hovers halfway back to the soup. His breath catches, just a tiny hitch, and for a man who can bench-press a locomotive, he looks like that simple touch has short-circuited his entire nervous system.

Your hand on his thigh.

Your lips still glistening from the broth.

The way your eyes hold his now—not guarded, not cold—but soft. Drowsy. Present.

He swallows hard.

“Noted,” he whispers, voice suddenly rough around the edges. “No getting used to it. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t joke his way out of it. Instead, he slowly scoops another bite, careful this time, and brings it toward you like you’re something sacred and breakable all at once.

His free hand hovers near your elbow as if bracing you without touching; but his leg under yours? Solid as steel and warm as sunlight through glass, letting you lean however much you need to.

And when your lips close gently around the spoon this time? Clark blinks fast—as if reminding himself: *Don’t say anything stupid.*

Too late.

“…You’re really gonna be trouble when you're feeling better,” he murmurs under his breath.

“I’m always trouble, Clark.” You place your other hand on the opposite leg, using his body to brace yours, completely relying on his strength to keep you up. 

“And for the record, you make a good nurse.” You tease, using the same phrase he did. Clark lets out a low, breathless laugh, half surprise, half surrender.

"Trouble?" He shakes his head slowly, eyes dark and warm as he looks down at you braced between his legs like he's your anchor. "You're not trouble. You're supervillain levels of dangerous right now."

He scoops another bite, hand steady despite the way his pulse jumps in his throat.

"And for the record," he mimics softly, voice dropping into that teasing-but-true register that makes your stomach dip even through the fever fog, "you saying I make a good nurse is exactly how I know you're delirious."

But then, because he can’t help it, he leans in just a fraction closer as you shift against him. His hands hover: one near your back like he wants to steady you but doesn’t trust himself to touch; the other gently pulling the spoon away from your lips after another quiet feed.

Sunlight pools across both of you now, the office still empty, world gone quiet, and Clark murmurs:

“Rest against me all you want. Just… don’t forget how warm I get when you’re this close.”  

A pause.

“Human furnace. Scientific fact.” You giggle softly, a noise unfamiliar to Clark’s eager ears, he’s heard it before, but never because of something he said. 

The familiar click of Lois’s heels fill the air, Jimmy following behind with his phone in hand, scrolling on the screen mindlessly. 

“Oh! And what’s going on here?” She grins, catching the two of you in a somewhat compromising position, especially since you claim to despise Clark Kent. Yet here you are, holding onto you like he’s your anchor. 

Clark flinches like someone just tossed kryptonite into a tea cup.

One second he’s all soft focus and warmth, the next he’s scrambling back like gravity relearned its job. The spoon clinks too loud against the bowl as he pulls his legs slightly apart, just enough for you to wobble, but keeps one hand *just* behind your back, ready to catch you if you fall.

“Lois! Jimmy. Uh. Hey.” He laughs, nervous, sheepish, way too high-pitched. “She’s sick. Like… *really* sick. Fever? Shaking? The whole ‘muttering about tax law in her sleep’ thing?”

He gestures wildly at the soup like it's evidence in his defense.

“I was just… spoon-feeding her constitutional rights via broth.”

You sway slightly without his legs braced under yours, and Clark instinctively reaches out, to steady your shoulder, but then freezes mid-air when Lois raises an eyebrow so sharp it could slice steel.

Jimmy finally looks up from his phone.

“Wait,” he says slowly, squinting at the two of you. “Are we witnessing a moment?”

“No!” Clark blurts—then clears his throat. “I mean—yes? I mean—it's not what it looks like.”

Lois crosses her arms with a smirk that says she already knows everything and enjoys every second of this.

“You two,” she drawls, stepping closer, “are either about to kill each other… or finally stop pretending you don’t want to kiss.”

The office holds its breath.

Clark won’t look at you, but his hand is still hovering near your back like it forgot how to leave.

You’re silent, eyes barely open, hand holding your head. 

Silence.

Then—*splat.*

Clark blinks. Looks down at his now-soggy loafer. The smell hits. His nose wrinkles, but not with disgust, with something softer. Concerned paternal disappointment, like a dad who just found out the dog ate the holiday ham.

Jimmy gags audibly and steps behind Lois. “Oh hell no.”

But Clark? He doesn’t flinch away. Doesn’t pull back from you as you slump forward with a groan, utterly unaware of the biohazard you’ve just unleashed on Metropolis’ most reluctant hero.

He gently catches you by the shoulders before your face meets desk—or worse, his other shoe.

“Okay,” he says calmly, like this is completely normal. “New plan.”

Still holding you upright with one arm, he grabs a wad of tissues from his pocket (because of course Clark Kent carries emergency tissues) and tosses them toward the mess like laying a ceremonial wreath.

“We’re going home.” He lifts your chin gently with two fingers until your bleary eyes meet his. “My place has better soup and tile floors I don’t care about.”

Lois stares at him like he’s lost his mind. Jimmy just whispers “Is this love?”

Clark ignores them all, kneels down beside your chair so he’s eye-level even as chaos erupts around him, and brushes hair from your damp forehead again. Softly this time. Slowly.

“You’re not fine,” he murmurs only for you to hear. “And that’s okay.”

Then louder:

“I’m taking her home,” he announces to no one in particular (but definitely to Lois). “If Perry asks—we’re chasing a lead.”  

And just like that—he scoops you up in one smooth motion, cradling you against his chest as if it's nothing at all that half the office just saw him covered in vomit… and still smiling.

It’s around 8pm when you finally wake up, cuddled in a bed scented like Clark’s cologne and in a tshirt that’s not your own. You groggily rub your eyes, body still aching ever so slightly as you rise from the mattress. 

You step out of the unfamiliar bedroom and into the hall, footsteps silent and careful as you creep into the living room. 

The apartment is quiet, soft golden light spilling from the kitchen, the hum of a refrigerator and the faint clink of a spoon in a mug. The city glows beyond the windows, but here, it feels like a secret world.

Clark’s sitting on the couch in sweatpants and an old Daily Planet press tour tee (slightly stretched across his shoulders), bare feet propped on the coffee table. He’s flipping through a dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, reading glasses perched low on his nose.

And there’s another mug steaming beside him—just waiting.

He looks up when he hears you. Freezes mid-turn-of-the-page. That slow, crooked smile starts at one corner of his mouth, the kind that says *I’ve been waiting for this moment all night.*

“Hey,” he says softly. “Welcome back to Earth.”

He sets the book down carefully, like it matters, and turns fully toward you, patting the cushion beside him.

“No vomiting allowed tonight,” he teases gently. “I already lost one pair of shoes to you this week.”

A beat.

“But if you promise not to redecorate my bathroom again… I’ve got ginger tea, saltines that somehow survived your fever coma, and” he gestures to his chest with mock solemnity “my personal guarantee that I did not sing any lullabies while you were out.”  

His eyes warm as they trace your face—the shadows under yours lighter now, color back in your cheeks. “You feeling human again?”

“Somewhat,” you murmur, taking a seat next to him. “All thanks to you.” A small smile creeps on your face. 

There’s no sass, just gentle words and comfortable air surrounding you. Clark looks down at his hands for a second, like he’s not sure what to do with the gratitude, like it’s something rare and fragile. Then he glances back at you, eyes soft behind his glasses.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says quietly, handing you the tea. “I haven’t told you I may have changed your socks while you were unconscious.” He smirks when your eyebrows shoot up.

“Medical emergency. Feet were cold. Protocol demands intervention.” He leans back slightly, giving you space—but stays close enough that your arms almost brush on the couch. “Besides… I owed you one for all those times you secretly fixed my headlines before Perry saw them.”

You freeze mid-sip.

He grins wider. “Oh yeah. I knew it was you. Every time there was a rogue semicolon or someone misspelled ‘LexCorp,’ suddenly—*poof*—clean copy in my inbox.” His voice drops into a mock-dramatic whisper: “I had a hunch who my guardian angel was.”

Then, quieter: “I liked that it was always you looking out for me… even when we weren’t talking.” The air between you settles warm and still again, the kind of quiet where unspoken things start to breathe.

"Yeah well, don't let it get to your head." You bite back with half-assed hostility. "But really, thank you."  You set the mug down on the coffee table, "Even if you used my sickness as an excuse to take my clothes off."

Clark chokes on absolutely nothing. His face goes from calm and collected to bright red in 0.2 seconds flat—glasses fogging slightly like he’s some kind of romantic cartoon character.

“I—what?" He sputters, voice cracking. “I didn’t—I mean—your blouse was damp! Fever sweat! It was a medical necessity, not some elaborate Clark Kent seduction scheme!”  

He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it holds proof of his innocence.

“I swear on my mother’s apple pie recipe I only changed your top because you were shivering and I wasn’t about to let you catch pneumonia on top of whatever mystery bug tried to take you out.”

Then, after a beat, he side-eyes you with that stupidly charming smirk returning: “And for the record… if I *were* gonna sneakily undress you?” He leans in just slightly, voice dropping low. “I wouldn’t need an excuse.”

The moment hangs there, teasing, electric, and then he snatches up the mug and stands abruptly.

“More tea,” he announces way too loudly. “Great idea. Let’s all have more tea.”  He retreats toward the kitchen like a man fleeing a very cute fire.

You follow close behind, small smirk on your face as you cross your arms over your waist. "And that's why my bras missing too, hm?" Your grin only grows as you notice the tips of his ears turning red, "Did you like what you saw, Kent?"

Clark drops the kettle.

Not on purpose. Just a quiet, tragic *"clank"* as it slips from his hand onto the stovetop, thankfully still off, because apparently, even Superman isn’t immune to *smug women in his kitchen*.

He slowly turns to face you, backlit by the soft glow of the apartment lights, ears burning crimson, mouth opening and closing like a fish who just realized it was very out of water.

“First of all,” he says, voice impressively steady despite the full-body flush creeping down his neck. “Your bra wasn’t ‘missing.’ It was… draped.”  

He gestures vaguely toward the laundry room like there’s a chain of evidence laid out inside. “Over my sweater. In a purely professional drying arrangement.” He pauses. “And I didn’t—I didn’t look. Much.”

A beat.

Then he squares his shoulders and gives you that stupidly earnest look, the one that makes liars feel guilty for lying in front of him.

“And even if I had looked?” He tilts his head slightly, gaze dropping for half a second to your lips before snapping back up with mock innocence. “What makes you think I’d tell you about it?”

He steps closer—just one step—closing some of that safe distance he worked so hard to create.

“You’re feeling better,” he murmurs, almost smiling now. “That’s how we know, you're officially dangerous again.”

Then softens:  "...I’m glad."  The air between you crackles, not with fever or fatigue, but something slower-burning and far more thrilling.

"If you want to look again," you begin, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I could use a shower. After all that sweating." 

Clark freezes, like someone pressed pause on reality. His breath hitches.

“Uh,” he says intelligently. “You—you’re *really* not helping your case about being dangerous.”

He stares at you, really stares, for one long, loaded second. The kind where time forgets its job and the city lights outside fade into background noise. Then he steps forward until there’s barely any space left between you.

His thumb brushes your hipbone through his too-big shirt, slow, deliberate, and his eyes flicker up to yours with that sheepish grin warring against something far more certain. “But for what it’s worth… yeah. I’d look again.”  

A beat.

“And this time?” He leans in just close enough that his breath ghosts your ear as he whispers:  

“I wouldn’t feel even a little bit guilty about it.”  

Then, he pulls back abruptly, grabs a fresh towel from the cabinet and hands it to you like nothing happened. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says evenly. “Try not to pass out on my tiles.”  

But his ears are still red. 

"Clark," You reach for his hand, pulling him toward you. "What happened to playing nurse? Don't I get a sponge bath?" You're not teasing anymore, you're prompting him.

Your gaze is full of something dark, something different than he's used to, desire. "Is this not a part of your Clark Kent care package?" 

Clark stops breathing.

Not dramatically. Not for effect.

He just… forgets how.

Your hand in his is warm. Your voice, low, rough with fever and something hotter, sends a pulse straight through his chest like he’s not invulnerable at all. Like he’s just a man. Just Clark. And you’re looking at him like you finally see him—really see him—and you want him close.

“This part of the care package,” he murmurs, thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles, “isn't covered by workplace liability.”  

Another step closer. His free hand finds your waist, tentative at first, then firmer when you don’t pull back.

“And if I give you a sponge bath?” His voice drops to a whisper that curls low in your stomach. “I won't be playing nurse anymore.”

His eyes flicker to your mouth again, but this time, they stay there.

“I’ll be doing this because I’ve wanted to touch you since the day you growled at me for borrowing your stapler.”  

A soft laugh escapes him, nervous and real and full of awe. “So no more games,” he breathes. “Tell me what you really want… or let me walk away before I forget how.”

"I think we both want the same thing," Your hand goes to his cheek, thumb brushing over his strong cheekbone. "I want you to touch me, everywhere, and mercilessly. I want to be the one left forgetting how to walk." 

Your words are genuine, seductive, and for once truthful; rather than being hidden behind practiced disdain. 

The air between you doesn’t just shift—it *breaks.*

Clark makes a sound low in his throat, half groan, half surrender, and in one smooth motion, he cups the back of your neck and pulls you against him, closing the last fragile inch of space.

“No more pretending,” he murmurs against your lips, voice rough like thunder under silk.

And then he kisses you.

Not gentle. Not careful.  

*Fever-hot.* Desperate. Like he’s been holding his breath for years and you’re the first real oxygen he’s ever known. His mouth moves over yours with a kind of precision only someone who's memorized every word you've ever spoken could have, the exact pressure, the perfect angle, as if this kiss was written in his bones long before it touched skin.

One hand stays tangled at your nape, fingers threading into your hair; the other slides down your back, slow and firm until it grips your hip hard enough to leave a memory.

When he finally pulls back—just an inch—you’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed tight like he's trying to remember how to be human again.

“You sure about this?” His voice is raw now, all sheepishness gone, replaced by something deeper: hunger wrapped in tenderness. “Because once I start touching you… I’m not stopping at sponge baths.”

He opens his eyes then, heavy-lidded, dark with want, and brushes another soft kiss on your lips before whispering: “And when we wake up tomorrow? You better not pretend this didn’t happen.”  

His thumb traces along your jawline—one silent plea hidden beneath fire: *I’ve loved even your cruelty… but I’d rather love what comes after.*

"Clark," You nip at his bottom lip. "Fuck me, fuck me so hard I forget what my own name is." You're no longer asking. 

You're begging. 

He makes a broken sound, like a vow cracking open.

And just like that, he lets go.

Clark lifts you clean off the ground, one hand under your thighs, the other cradling your back like you weigh nothing at all. You gasp as he carries you down the hall, heels instinctively locking behind his waist as he kicks open his bedroom door with more force than necessary—*thud* against the wall—and then you’re pressed against it again in seconds, heart slamming.

His mouth finds yours, hungry, claiming, and this time there’s no mercy in it. No sweet hesitation. He kisses you like he’s spent years dreaming of destroying every wall between you and now finally has permission to burn them all down.

“I’m gonna do worse than forget your name,” he growls against your lips, voice thick with need. “I’m gonna make sure every breath out of that mouth is mine.”

His hands slide under the hem of the t-shirt, the one that smells like him, his palms mapping muscle and scar and softness alike like worship disguised as domination.

“You want me merciless?”  

He nips at your collarbone, a sharp sting followed by warm relief from his tongue. “Then remember this moment when I’ve got my hands on every secret part of you… when I’ve wrecked that pretty voice moaning into my shoulder…”  

He lifts his eyes to yours, one last pulse of sanity clinging on:“Because after tonight? You won’t be able to look at me across that newsroom again without remembering exactly how deep I buried myself inside you.”  

Then Clark kisses away any chance for words…  

and begins proving exactly what happens when he stops holding back.

Clark’s mouth trails down from your lips, leaving a blazing path of kisses and bitten-off moans. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch back, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

He kisses lower, peeling the shirt away from your body, revealing the lacy black panties you wore that day. The sight makes his cock throb painfully against his pants. But first, he wants to taste you. All of you.

He drops to his knees, his hands moving to your waist to help you step out of the shirt. You’re panting, eyes half-lidded and full of need as you watch him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

He takes a moment to appreciate the view—your breasts, your stomach, the slight tremble in your legs—before his gaze locks on your panties once more.

They’re damp, and the scent of your arousal fills the air like an intoxicating perfume. He hooks his thumbs under the elastic and pulls them down, taking his sweet time as they slide over your hips and down your legs.

your pussy is bare, glistening in the soft light from the bedside lamp, and Clark’s mouth waters. He’s dreamt of this, fantasized about it, and now it’s real. He leans in, pressing his nose to your cunt, breathing you in before his tongue swipes over your clit. 

You gasp, your knees buckling slightly, and he holds you steady, his hands moving to your thighs to keep you upright.

He kisses your pussy like it’s a part of you that he’s been dying to taste, and when he finally slides his tongue inside you, you cry out, your legs wrapping around his neck. His hands tighten, holding you open for him as he explores, licking and teasing, finding the spot that makes your hips jerk every time he hits it. 

He’s merciless, just as you asked, working you over with his mouth until you’re shaking and your legs are trembling, your orgasms rolling into one endless wave.

Clark doesn’t stop, not even when your voice breaks into sobs of pleasure and you’re begging him to let you catch your breath. He’s lost in your taste, in the way you respond to him, and he can’t get enough. 

His tongue flicks and strokes, his lips suck and kiss, and with every sound you make, every tremble of your body, he’s closer to the edge. He wants you to come so hard you’re screaming, so you know just how much he craves you.

And when you do, it’s like a dam bursts—wet and wild, your juices flooding his mouth as you convulse against him.

He drinks you down, swallows your cries, and still, he keeps going, pushing you for more, giving you no respite until you’re boneless in his arms, your voice a hoarse whisper of his name.

Only then does he pull back, his face flushed and shining with sweat, his own need a pulsing ache. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire, and you say the only thing that’s left to be said: “Now, it’s your turn to remember how I make you feel, every time you look at me in that newsroom.”

And then, with trembling hands, he stands, his cock straining against his pants. But before he can do anything about it, you’re dropping to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. The power in that gaze sends a shiver down his spine, and he knows that this night is just getting started.

Your eyes never left his as you sank to your knees, the power of your desire for him making his knees feel like they might give out. He watched, mesmerized, as you unbuckle his belt with trembling hands, your eyes shining with a hunger that matched his own. 

You unzipped his pants, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and he stepped out of them, his erection springing free. Clark’s cock was thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

With a gentle grip, you wrapped your hand around his length, your thumb circling the sensitive spot just under the head, making him groan. He was so close to losing it just from that touch alone, but you had other plans. 

You leaned in, your breath hot against his skin, and took him in your mouth. Slowly at first, your lips sliding down his shaft until you could feel him hit the back of your throat. He swelled inside you, filling your mouth completely.

Your eyes flutter shut as you take him deeper, your tongue swirling around his cock, cheeks hollowing with every suck. You use your other hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm as you work him over with your mouth. 

The sounds you made were obscene, wet and needy, and they sent shockwaves through his body.

Clark’s hands found their way into your hair, his grip tightening as you picked up the pace. He’s never felt anything like this—so intense, so consuming—and he couldn’t believe it was happening with you. 

The woman who had been his tormentor for so long was now on her knees, worshiping his body like it was her favorite sin.

Your technique was flawless, you knew just how much pressure to use, just how fast to move your mouth to make him crazy. You take him deep, then pull back to tease the sensitive ridge with the tip of your tongue before swallowing him whole again. 

He watched you, watched the way your eyes rolled back in your head, watched the way your throat worked around him, and he knew he was lost.

His hips began to thrust of their own accord, fucking your mouth with the same desperation he’d felt in every fantasy. He was so close, so fucking close, and you knew it. 

You could feel his pulse racing beneath your touch, the muscles in his thighs tensing, his grip in your hair tightening until it was almost painful.

And then you swallowed around him, throat contracting, and he lost it. He came with a roar, his seed flooding your mouth, and you took it all, eyes on his the whole time. 

You didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, just kept sucking until he was spent, until there was nothing left but the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through his body.

When he finally pulled out, panting and shaking, you look up at him with a wicked smile, your lips slick with his cum. “Better than a sponge bath, I take it?” you whisper.

Clark could only nod, his voice a strangled groan. “Fuck yes,” he managed to say before collapsing onto the bed, utterly wrecked by your touch.

He watched as you stood, swaying slightly on your feet, the aftermath of your fever still evident in your flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. But the fire between you had only grown stronger, and he knew that this was only the beginning. 

He had so much more of you to explore, so much more of you to claim. And he was going to take every inch, with a fierceness that would make the sun look like a candle in comparison.

But first? 

First, it was time for a shower. 

Clark’s chest heaves as he stares at you, lips parted, skin slick with sweat, heart slamming like it’s trying to escape. And god, you’re beautiful, hair tousled, lips swollen and glistening with him, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction and something darker… *hungry for more.*

He swallows hard. Reaches a shaky hand down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip like he can’t believe it really happened.

“You,” he rasps, voice raw from groaning your name into the dark, “are going to be the death of me.”

He pulls you up onto the bed in one smooth motion, rolling so you're beneath him before you can even catch your breath. His hands frame your face as he hovers over you, eyes burning into yours.

“That was just round one,” he murmurs darkly. “And if I have anything to say about it? You’re not getting out of this apartment until I’ve repaid every second of that blow job tenfold.”

His knee nudges between your thighs—gentle but insistent—and when you gasp at the contact, heat pooling all over again? He smiles. Slow. Devastating.

“Let's get that shower running,” Clark whispers against your lips. “But I think we both know what happens next.”  

He kisses the corner of your mouth, softly this time, before adding:

“We clean each other off…  

*Then start all over again.*”  

And damn if his cock doesn’t twitch against your hip like it already agrees. You grin, arms wrapping around his neck. “Or we fuck while we get clean…” Your lips press open mouthed kisses to his face. 

Clark groans—low, deep, like the sound rips right from his chest.

“Christ,” he mutters against your lips, half-laughing, half-drowning in you. “You’re gonna kill me before breakfast.” He surges up onto his knees between your legs, slow, deliberate, then leans down to bite gently at your collarbone as one hand slides under your hip.

“You want filthy and clean at the same time?” His voice drops to a rough whisper. “My kind of multitasking.”

In one move he lifts you effortlessly against him, one arm locked around your waist, and carries you into the bathroom like you weigh nothing at all. The tiles are cold beneath his feet but he doesn’t care; sets you on the counter and reaches past to turn on the shower, steam already curling into the air.

Then he steps back just enough to look at you, bare and glowing in soft bathroom light, and something flickers behind his eyes: awe wrapped in hunger.“You sure?” He teases with that crooked grin. “Once I get you wet? I’m not stopping for soap.”  

You slide off the counter into him, your body flush with his bare chest, and nip at his jawline.

“Then don’t,” you breathe. “Fuck me before we’re even under the water.”  

He growls, a real sound this time, and spins you around fast but gentle until your hands are splayed against the cool glass of the shower door for balance.

“No more talking,” Clark murmurs behind ear as he grips both hips hard enough to bruise tomorrow, the good kind of souvenir.  

His cock drags hot along your ass through fevered hesitation… then nudges the tight entrance waiting so perfectly for him.

And when he finally sinks inside—in one slow thrust that makes both of you shudder?

The world stops again.

Steam rises.

Water rains down.

And somewhere beyond heartbeat and breath?

A man who’s spent years holding back finally learns how good it feels…  to let go.

Clark's hips surge forward, filling you completely, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh echoing through the tiled room. Your body arches back, pressing against him, begging for more, as he starts to move. 

He's not gentle, not now. He fucks you like he's been starving for this, for you, and he's going to consume every part of you until there's nothing left.

His hand slides around your waist, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure building until you can't tell where one sensation ends and another begins. 

The water cascades over both of you, mixing with sweat and need as you moan into the steam.

He whispers in your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "You're so fucking tight, so wet for me." His other hand grabs your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. He bites, kisses, sucks until you're trembling, until you're sure he's marked you.

The angle is perfect, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars, and you know you won't last much longer. "Clark," you pant, your voice barely recognizable. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum for me," he growls, his strokes growing faster, harder, pushing you closer to the edge. "I want to feel it around my cock."

You do, your pussy clenching around him in spasms of pleasure so intense you think you might pass out. The orgasm tears through you like a storm, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

But Clark isn't done. He keeps moving, his hips pistoning into you, his thumb relentless on your clit. He's chasing his own release now, his eyes dark with lust. You can feel his cock thicken inside you, the head swelling, and you know he's close.

"Cum with me," you beg, your voice a desperate whisper.

And he does, with a roar that drowns out the sound of the water, his cum spilling into you like molten lava. He slams into you one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing inside you, his breath hot against your neck.

You lean back against him, boneless, as the water beats down around you. His arms come up to hold you tight, and for a moment, you just stand there, panting, heart racing.

Then he kisses the side of your neck, gentle now, and murmurs, "I told you I wouldn't stop."

And even though you're exhausted, you know there's so much more to come.

But for now, he’s going to comfort and hold you close. Making sure he takes good care of you. 

The water’s still warm, cascading over your shoulders as Clark slowly turns you in his arms, his hands gentle now, tracing the curve of your spine like he’s learning you all over again. He presses his forehead to yours, both of you breathless under the spray, skin flushed pink from heat and friction.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and tender. “Still with me?”

You nod weakly, heavy-lidded eyes fluttering open, and that sheepish smile returns to his lips. The one that always made everyone at the office melt… but now? It’s only for you.

He reaches behind to grab a washcloth hanging neatly on the bar -because of *course* Clark has shower organization-, wetting it under steaming water before kneeling back down.

“No more rushing,” he whispers as he gently cleans between your legs, one slow stroke, with a reverence that makes your heart clench more than any thrust ever could.

His touch lingers just long enough to make sure every ache is soothed before setting it aside and standing once more. He cups your face in both hands this time, water slicking back his curls, and kisses you softly. Not demanding. Not desperate.

Tender. Like worship disguised as love letters whispered through touch.

“You okay?” His thumbs brush away droplets clinging to cheekbones, eyes locked on the same ones that once looked at him with nothing but sarcasm weeks ago… now softened by sweat and satisfaction alike.

You lean into him automatically, the chill air outside your cocoon making goosebumps rise, but Clark just wraps strong arms around tight against broad chest already radiating heat like sunlight given form.

“I’ve got ya,” he says quietly into damp hair above ear, and god yes, he *does.*

Then quieter: “And if we’re being honest?”  

A pause while steam rolls across bare skin. "I've wanted to ruin us both like this since day one."  

No more jokes.

No hiding behind heroics or headlines or pretend hatred in copy rooms during lunch breaks where neither could look away fast enough anyway—

Just truth:

They were always meant for moments exactly like this: soaked together not only in water...  

but want,

and weakness,

and warmth

that never fades after even when morning comes.<|endofmessage|>

[cowboybeepboop]

David Corenswet Masterlist

Twisters

🔭💻 Scott Miller

Sweet Surrender

Hidden passion

Love Sick

shy reader req

Javi's sis req

jealous req

virgin

biting

blowie

blowie p2

Temptation

🦸‍♂️Superman

Doting

Secrets

Bliss

Taste

Interview

Supernova

Mercy

[cowboybeepboop]

If you hate James Gunn’s Superman this is what you look like btw

[cowboybeepboop]

Secrets

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about your mouth on me… imagining you saying my name like it’s a prayer.”

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Moaning the wrong name in bed finally gives your friendship with Clark the push it needed.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v, fingering

a/n: This is honestly my personal best I think, i really enjoyed this concept lol. But as always, send any requests you have my way!

You don’t make mistakes. Not ones this bad at least. 

But today? Today, you royally fucked up. 

You’d been dating this guy Chase, just for a few weeks and when you finally made it into bed? You moaned fucking Clark Kent’s name. 

The secret crush you’ve had on your friend since *forever* has never gotten this bad before. I mean at least you’d never moaned out his name when you were in bed with someone else before. 

That’s not it though. After the whole ordeal you just wanted to forget it, forget the shame and forget him. But of course it wasn't that goddamn simple. 

No, Chase had to transfer over to the Daily Planet. 

“Holy fucking fuck,” You whine, hiding behind Lois and Jimmy earning an eyebrow raise from her. 

“Y/N?” Her voice is concerned yet amused, a grin plastered on her perfectly pink lips. 

“That guy I was dating,” You give her a look, earning an awkward expression from her, “You know, the one? He’s suddenly working here now and I totally told him about my job here.” You’re worried. 

Beyond just worried. Clark can not know about what happened, you can’t even tell a lie when confronted without getting so flustered you tell double the incriminating information. If he were to ask about it? 

For all you know you’d admit to fucking yourself with an oversized pink dildo imagine it was his cock filling and stuffing you until you begged him to stop. Or you’d tell him that you probably moaned his name because at night when you can’t sleep you use a rose toy screaming his name as you cover your bed sheets in cum. 

Lois pats your back gently. “Y/N, I doubt he’d tell him anything.” You wince, the way he reacted doesn’t tell you his bruised ego will let it go. 

“Lois… He was so offended,” She gives you a sympathetic shrug. 

“Y/N, if he tells Clark.” She spins in her chair, taking a sip of her coffee. “If he tells him maybe it’d be a good thing.”

“Ugh! Good how?” You press your forehead to the desk. “It’ll just screw up our friendship. He’s my best friend, Lois. I love him, I don’t want to lose him because I’m too much of an idiot to not think of him like *that*.”

Jimmy ruffles your hair, “We all know he’s understanding, plus I doubt the guy will say a word to Clark. Who wants to admit to a thing like that?” He laughs, but it does nothing to ease the ache in your stomach. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You sigh, standing up from your hiding spot. “Anyone need more coffee?” 

"Not me, but Clark definitely does," Lois says with a smirk, eyeing the two across the bullpen. "And knowing him, he'll ask *you* to get it." She snorts. "Poetic justice, really."

You groan. "If I walk over there right now, I swear my face will combust. Like actual spontaneous human combustion."

Jimmy grins. "Worth it just to see Clark’s face when Chase inevitably says something passive-aggressive like 'So *you're* the guy she screams for?'"

"JIMMY!" you hiss.

Lois cackles into her coffee cup before setting it down and leaning in. "Look, sweetie—if fate’s gonna throw your dirty little secret into the office breakroom like confetti? Maybe stop hiding behind desks and own it." Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "...Or at least wait till he's holding hot coffee to confess."

You sigh, walking to the break room to fill your cup. Eyebrows furrowed as you get lost in the thoughts of what ifs. You don’t even notice as Clark comes in with his empty cup, a small grin on his lips as he sees you. 

"Hey, Y/N," Clark says warmly, leaning against the counter as you fumble with the coffee pot. His sleeves are rolled up just enough to show his forearms, strong, dusted with dark hair, and he's got that easy smile that always makes your chest tighten.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Rough night?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes soft with concern. "Or did Jimmy finally break the printer again?"

You laugh, too high, too fast, but manage to stammer out, "N-no. Just... bad sleep. Weird dreams." Oh God. Why did you say dreams?

Clark doesn’t seem to notice anything off. He just chuckles and holds out his mug, a chipped blue one that says “World’s Okayest Reporter.”  

"Coffee heaven is the only cure for weird dreams," he says lightly. "I had one last night where I was late to work because I was flying around Metropolis saving cats from trees and someone kept yelling about copyright infringement." He grins sheepishly. "Make no sense?"

You nod fast, gripping your cup like it's a life raft. "None at all."

He steps closer, just casually close enough that you catch his scent—the oh so familiar musk of him.

Chase comes in, the surprise of him being back in your presence causing you to drop your mug. "Oh shit!" Your heart pounds angrily in your chest, head spinning, and stomach acid prickling the back of your throat. 

Clark's hand darts out fast, *too* fast, as the mug smacks toward the floor, catching it mid-air with a soft *clink*. He blinks at it, then at you, eyebrows raised. "Whoa. You okay? That was... nearly catastrophic for my caffeine hopes."

Chase smirks in the doorway, arms crossed. "Clumsy and jumpy? Huh." His voice is light but pointed.

You flush from neck to scalp.

Clark steps slightly in front of you, just a shift of weight, subtle as a breath, but suddenly there’s this solid wall of warmth and height between you and Chase. He gives Chase a polite but distant smile.

"Chase, right? Welcome to the Planet." His tone is friendly enough, but his posture says mine, without him ever claiming anything out loud. "Y/N here once spilled an entire pot on Perry’s lap during a breaking news rush, we keep mugs on probation around her."

A laugh escapes you—real this time—at how absurdly he just defused it.

But it doesn't change the way Chase glares at you, sending uncomfortable shivers down your spine. 

Your fingers press lightly into the small of Clark’s back, just a whisper of contact, but it’s like touching a live wire. He goes still for half a heartbeat, then shifts slightly into the touch, warm and solid under your hand.

"Anyway," Clark says, voice smooth but deeper than before, "we should probably get to work. Deadlines wait for no man… or coffee addict." He grins at you over his shoulder, eyes soft.

You swear his back muscles tense under your palm like he’s holding himself in check.

Chase clears his throat. "Yeah. Right. Guess I’ll… see you two around." His tone is tight as he turns to leave, shooting one last look at you that makes your skin crawl.

The second he's gone, Clark exhales and turns fully toward you, concern washing over his face like waves smoothing sand. 

"You good?" he asks quietly, searching your eyes now that they’re alone again. His voice drops an octave: "Really good?"

And damn it all, he reaches up without thinking and brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead.

His fingers linger just a second too long on your skin.

"Mhm, yeah, totally." You laugh awkwardly, eyes on anything but him. 

Clark watches you for a beat, too long, too soft, before clearing his throat and stepping back, suddenly fumbling with his coffee mug like it holds the secrets of the universe.

"Right. Cool. Great." He smiles, but it's a little lopsided now, nervous in a way that doesn’t suit him. "Just… you know. If something’s off? You’d tell me, right? Best friend rules."

He taps the rim of his mug twice, an odd little habit he’s had since forever and finally glances up at you through those unfairly long lashes.

You’ve seen him dodge bullets in print form (metaphorically), charm sources out of silence with that crooked grin... but right now? He looks like he’s bracing for rejection without knowing why.

And across the room, Jimmy mouths “D R A M A” at Lois while pretending to type.

Clark doesn’t notice. He only sees you.

Still waiting for an answer that isn’t *“I almost came on my thigh last night imagining your hands on my hips.”*

"He and I just have history, sorta." You blurt out, from the pressure that was never there, your skin flushing beet red as you shift your weight between your feet. "He like totally hates me."

Clark's gaze forces more words out of your lips. "A few nice dates and then, you know, I offended him or something." You giggle like someone's squeezing the sound out of you. 

Clark’s jaw tightens—just a flicker, gone in a blink—but his voice stays smooth, easy. "Huh. Funny way to show it. Dude looked at you like you stole his lunch and kicked his dog."

He takes a slow sip of coffee, eyes never leaving yours over the rim of the mug. Warm, probing.

Then he shrugs, feigning nonchalance like he's not mentally filing every syllable you just spilled. "But hey—if he can't handle that you're brilliant, chaotic, and flail at inanimate objects? His loss."

A beat.

His thumb brushes the side of his mug where your fingers almost touched earlier.

"And for the record?" He leans in slightly, close enough you catch the faintest hint of spearmint on his breath. "Best friend rules mean I get to veto anyone who makes *my* person squirm like they’re standing on hot coals."

Your breath hitches.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe—he notices everything.

"Ha!" You laugh awkwardly again, eyes wide open as if you watched someone murder your whole family in front of you, then ask if you wanted ice cream. 

Thankfully, Lois comes to your rescue, interrupting the tension between you. 

"Alright, boys and girls!" Lois announces, striding in with her signature I-run-this-place energy. "Perry wants us in the conference room, alien cult sighting downtown, and no, Jimmy, they’re not just LARPers this time."

She pauses beside you, gives your shoulder a squeeze, firm, grounding, and side-eyes Clark with a smirk that says *I see everything*. 

"Coffee break’s over, Kent. Try not to trip over your own feet this time." She tosses him a pen. He catches it one-handed without looking.

"Only if Y/N promises not to drop anything else," he teases softly, but his eyes are warm when they meet yours.

You nod too fast again.

As you turn to follow Lois down the hall, Clark falls into step just behind you, close enough that every so often his elbow brushes yours like an accident.  

It isn’t one.

Finally, the day ends without any more events, but the way Chase has been glaring at you tells you he's planning something, and the thought of what makes you sick to your stomach.

Clark ran out to get some late-night snacks before you go back for Friday movie nights at his place, leaving you in the empty office typing away at your computer. That *was* until Chase interrupted your peace. 

"So he's the one, hm?" You glance up, eyes meeting his glaring ones. "Kent’s the one you imagined fucking you, when I was fucking balls deep in that ran through pussy?" 

Your eyes feel watery, lips trembling as he insults you. Neither of you noticing Clark's figure in the background. 

"It's not like that, Chase..." You sigh, voice barely over a whisper. "Look, I didn't mean it." 

"Fuck if I care what you meant," He slams his hands on the desk, causing you to jump out of your seat. 

Clark moves before sound catches up.

One second, Chase is looming over your desk—tense, furious—and the next, a firm hand grips his shoulder and spins him around with controlled force.

"Whoa. Personal space, man." Clark’s voice is calm. Low. *Dangerously* steady. His eyes are dark, jaw set like carved stone. He doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t need to. "She said she didn't mean it. You heard her."

Chase scoffs, trying to pull away. "Back off, Kent. This is between me and—"

"No," Clark cuts in smoothly, not letting go. "This ended when you decided yelling at someone half your size was a good way to handle ego bruising."  

He steps slightly in front of you—again—not shielding you completely but making it clear: *You don’t get near her.*

"Clark..." You bite your lip, "Chase and I need to talk." Your eyes fall to the desk, hands trembling as you realize his interference could cause more trouble than necessary.  

Kent doesn’t move. Still a solid wall between you and Chase, his fingers slowly uncurl from Chase’s shoulder—but only after locking eyes with him one last time.

“Talk?” Clark asks, voice quieter now, almost amused. “This doesn’t look like talking. It looks like intimidation.” He glances back at you, just a flick of his gaze, and something in his expression softens. Then hardens again when he turns back to Chase.

“You want to talk? Fine. Tomorrow. In the bullpen. With witnesses.” He crosses his arms, towering just slightly more than usual in that effortless way of his. “But tonight? We’re done.”

"No!" Your eyes are wide and cheeks flushed, "No, there can't be witnesses." You bury your face in your hands knowing *exactly* what Chase will do: embarrass you in front of the entire office, and make Clark look at you with disgust. 

Clark turns to you, his voice dropping, suddenly gentle, like he’s found a frequency only the two of you can hear.

"Hey," he murmurs, hand lifting like he wants to touch your shoulder but stopping just short. "Look at me."

You peek through your fingers.

His eyes aren’t disgusted. They’re *furious*, yes,but not at you. Never at you. There’s something else in them too… something warm and fierce and protective in the worst possible way.

He turns back to Chase slowly. "Then she decides when and where," Clark says, calm as steel wrapped in velvet. "Not you. Not ever."

And then—quietly, dangerously—he adds:  

"If what happened between you two is so damn important… I'd hate for it to get misunderstood. Wouldn't want rumors flying about how you couldn't handle being compared to someone else."  

A beat.

Chase pales slightly.

Clark doesn’t blink.

And just like that, the power shifts.

“Go home, Chase,” Clark says finally, voice firm but no longer sharp. “This is over.”

Your heart drops into your stomach at Clark's statement. He knows, he overheard. Chase leaves, grabbing his stuff and angrily slamming the door. 

"Clark." Your tone is firm, shameful, and annoyed. "What did you hear?"

Clark turns to you slowly, the fight draining from his posture like water. His hands flex at his sides—like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your face in this broken light.

Then, soft as a confession:  “Enough.”  

“I heard ‘he’s the one.* I heard my name.” He swallows hard and looks down, suddenly unable to hold your gaze. “And then… I heard him say something vile and low that made me want to throw him through a wall.”

"Clark, it's not. It's not like that." Your eyes are wide, cheeks reed as you lean back against your desk, arms crossed protectively over your waist. He can tell you're lying; he always can. 

Clark takes one slow step forward. Then another.

The office is quiet now—just the hum of the lights, the distant echo of Chase’s anger fading down the hall.

He stops a breath away from you, close enough that when he speaks, his voice wraps around you like something warm and heavy.

“Don’t,” he says softly. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hesitant, almost afraid, and then away again, like looking at you too long might burn him.

“I’ve spent two years pretending I don’t notice how your laugh hits me like sunlight.” He lets out a shaky breath. “How you steal my coffee and wear my hoodies when it rains… how you fall asleep on my couch with your face smushed into a pillow like some kind of exhausted cartoon character.”

A pause. His fingers twitch at his side.

“And yeah,” he whispers, “maybe I should’ve been mad hearing someone else was in your bed… but all I could think was—wait, she moaned my name? Like… me? Regular old Clark?”

He laughs once, low, disbelieving, but there’s no humor in it.

"Clark..." You stare up at him, eyes scanning his face as if you're attempting to read his thoughts. "It's not the first time," The words spill out, heart racing. 

"I'm always moaning your name, thinking about you-" You cut yourself off, shocked by not surprised at your confessions.

Clark goes very, very still.

Like the air itself just froze.

His breath hitches, audible, raw, and his eyes flood with something so hot, so tender, you feel it in your bones.

“You… what?” His voice is barely a whisper. Throat tight. Like he’s afraid to hope.

You squeeze your arms tighter around yourself, chin dipping low. “I don’t even mean to,” you mutter, half-laughing at your own ruin. “It’s just, nights when I can’t sleep… when I’m alone… It’s always you. Your hands. Your voice. The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Clark exhales like he’s been punched beautifully.

Then, without warning, he closes the distance between you in one step, cupping your face gently but firmly in his hands.

“Look at me,” he says softly. Roughly. Like a prayer and a demand all at once.

You do. And what you see in his eyes stops time: awe. Hunger. And years of quiet longing finally breaking free like light through clouds.

"Clark, I'm sorry..." You breathe out, eyebrows knitted together, eyes glossy. Clark’s thumbs brush your cheeks, soft, grounding, and he shakes his head, voice low and fierce.

"Sorry? Y/N… don’t you *dare* apologize for this." He lets out a breathless laugh, half-awed, half-disbelieving. "I’ve spent the last two years jerking off in my apartment thinking about the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on a story."

Your eyes widen.

He *smirks*, rare, crooked, devastating, and leans in until his forehead rests against yours.

"I’d lie awake imagining it was my name you whimpered when you came. And now you're standing here telling me it was?" He shivers—actually shivers—"Christ. I’m the one who should be sorry. For not saying anything sooner."

Silence fills the air before whispering, “Can I kiss you now? Or do I have to wait till we’re both fired for workplace indecency?”

"Fuck," You grab his face eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. The passion of the past heavy in your embrace. 

Clark groans the second your lips hit his, like he’s been holding this in for years, like he’s drowning and you’re air.

His hands slide from your face down to your waist, pulling you flush against him with a strength that makes your knees weak. Not Superman-level—no desks broken, no walls dented—but solid, real, his.

The kiss is messy. Hungry. Teeth clashing, breaths fumbling, hands desperate.

He tastes like coffee and spearmint gum and something uniquely Clark, warmth wrapped in restraint, barely holding on.

When he finally breaks it, just enough to breathe, his forehead drops to yours again, eyes closed, voice ragged:

“God… I’ve wanted to do that since the day you spilled orange juice on my laptop and said ‘I’ll lick it off if you want.’” He laughs breathlessly. “You have no idea how hard I had to work not to say ‘deal.’”

You giggle against his lips.

He kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he's memorizing the shape of you.

And somewhere in the distance…  A slow clap begins.

You both whirl around. Jimmy stands there.

"Fucking Friday movie nights," You sigh, looking at Jimmy and Lois standing at the door with grins on their faces. 

Jimmy claps once more, slow and dramatic. "And scene! Took you two long enough. I was starting to think I’d have to fake a kidnapping just to get some momentum."

Lois steps forward, smirking, arms crossed. "I gave them six months after the whole ‘almost dying in the elevator together’ incident." She shakes her head. "I underestimated their stubbornness."

Clark flushes bright red—actually glows pink from neck to hairline—and mutters, “You guys have got to stop sneaking up on people.”

“Oh, honey,” Lois says, patting his arm, “we didn’t sneak. You two were just too busy making up for three years of sexual tension to hear us walk in.” She turns to you with a wink. “Worth the wait?”

You hide your face against Clark’s chest. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tight, proud, and drops a soft kiss on top of your head.

"Hell yes," he murmurs, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jimmy fake-sobs into his sleeve. "I'm so happy I might puke glitter."

And just like that, your biggest mistake turned into the best thing that ever happened to you. Sitting in Clark’s apartment, wrapped in his arms as some action film plays in the distance, it all feels perfectly right. 

Once midnight hits, Jimmy pulls Lois out the door, mumbling about needing a ride back or something. Maybe it’s all just an excuse to get out of your guys hair before things got heated in front of them. 

You nuzzle your face in Clarks lap, lips parted, eyes shut. Kent’s fingers trace slow circles in your hair, his other hand resting warm on your hip as the glow of the TV flickers across the room. 

The action movie’s loud explosions go unnoticed—both of you are miles past plot.

When midnight passes and the door clicks shut behind Jimmy and Lois, he lets out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, voice low and sleepy-sweet, “I used to pretend we were doing this just so I could fall asleep without feeling like a creep.”

You tilt your head up slightly, lips brushing his thigh. “And now?”

Now,” he says softly, then shifts suddenly, gently lifting you until you’re straddling his lap on the couch. One hand cradles your face; the other rests low on your back like an anchor.

“Now I get to do it for real.” He kisses you, slow, deep, and pulls back just enough to whisper:  

“No more pretending.”

"Theres another thing we can do for real now." You nip his bottom lip, hands holding his neck gently. "No more late nights, touching ourselves, wishing it was the other..."

Clark lets out a ragged breath, half-groan, half-confession, as your lips trail his jaw.

“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about your mouth on me… imagining you saying my name like it’s a prayer.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, dark with want, but still so Clark: tender, careful.

“Only if you’re sure,” he whispers. “No pressure. No rush.”

You answer by grinding down against him, just once, and the way he shudders, like he’s barely holding on?

“Y/N,” he breathes, forehead pressing to yours. “God… I’ve wanted this so damn long.”

His hands slide under your shirt, warm palms on bare skin, and suddenly it's not just fantasy anymore.

It's real.  

It's yours.

And for the first time?  

So is he.

Clark’s eyes darken, his pupils blown wide with desire as he takes in the sight of you straddling him. The way your chest rises and falls with each shaky breath, the needy whine that escapes your lips as you grind down, it’s like watching a dream come to life right in front of him. 

His hands move to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of your waist before you lift your arms to let him remove it completely. Your bra is the next to go, and his eyes feast on the sight of your breasts, full and heavy with desire, your nipples peaked and begging for his attention. 

He doesn’t waste any time, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive tips, watching as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

You lean in, capturing his lips again, your kisses growing more desperate, more demanding with each passing second. His hand slides down to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants with a flick of his thumb, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot, breaking the quiet tension that had been building between you. 

He pulls them down, along with your underwear, and you can feel the heat of his cock pressing against you, thick and hard and ready. You’re already so wet, so fucking wet for him, and when he finally slides a finger into your pussy, you almost come on the spot. 

He groans, the sound vibrating through your chest, and you know he feels it, too—how much you want him, how much you’ve needed this. His finger moves in a slow, deliberate rhythm, and your hips rock against him, chasing the pleasure that’s just out of reach. 

You can feel it building, like a storm gathering on the horizon, and you know you’re going to break apart in his arms. But before you can, Clark pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

He stands, lifts you off the couch, and carries you to his bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. You watch him strip out of his own clothes, his body a work of art in the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. 

And then he’s over you, his body pressing into yours, his cock sliding through your wetness, and you know you can’t wait anymore. You wrap your legs around his waist, silently begging him to fill you, and when he finally pushes inside, it’s like coming home. 

He stretches you, fills you completely, and you arch up to meet him, desperate for more, for all of him. His hips move in a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

You’re both lost in it now, the world outside fading away until it’s just the two of you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and lust that’s been building for years. And when you finally come, it’s with his name on your lips—not a whisper, not a moan, but a scream that shakes the walls. 

You feel him tense, his grip tightening on your hips, and then he’s coming too, his cock pulsing deep inside you, marking you as his in the most primal, claiming way possible. 

As he collapses beside you, his breathing ragged and his heart hammering against your back, you know that from now on, every time he hears your name, every time you moan in the throes of pleasure, it will be his doing. 

And that thought sends another wave of desire crashing through you, making you want to do it all over again. Because now that the secret’s out, there’s no going back—only forward into a future of endless passion and need that you’ve both been craving for so long.

[cowboybeepboop]

Bliss

"You’re mine. Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine forever."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count:  3.3k

Summary: Teasing Clark about his ‘harem’ finally leads to your first fuck.

Warnings: Overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, p in v sex

You and Clark have been dating for 6 months, and he’s quite the gentleman. Which has its ups and downs… especially since you’re one horny mother fucker and he waited until your third date before even kissing you, so sex has been, well, off the table in his mind. 

As you hear the sound of the balcony door opening, your heart skips a beat, and your body stiffens with anticipation. Clark, your dashing boyfriend of six long, sexually frustrating months, steps into the room, looking as heroic as ever in his superhero attire.

His cape flutters slightly behind him, and his eyes, filled with a mischievous glint, lock onto yours. You respond with a roll of the eyes. “Don’t you look dashing, Superman?” The aroma of the gourmet dinner you've prepared for your anniversary fills the space between you.

Clark chuckles at your sarcastic tone, hanging his cape on a coat rack. He smiles as he looks you up and down, clearly pleased to be home and to see you.

"Don't I always?" He teases, walking over to you and gently pulling you towards him. He wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead.

"I suppose you do," You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug. "Are you hungry after saving the city?"

He hugs you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sighing contentedly. "Starving," He mumbles against your skin, his breath warm on your neck. "What smells so good?"

"I made your favorite." You pat his back, pushing him away slightly so you can prepare the plates.

Kent reluctantly lets you go, but not before stealing a quick kiss from your cheek. He leans against the counter, watching you with a boyish grin. "You spoil me," He teases, admiring your every move as you skillfully plate the food.

"I know, I know." You grin, grabbing the plates and bringing them to the dining table. "I'm too good for you, Clark." After setting the dinner table, you pull him in for a kiss. 

Clark chuckles against your lips, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close. 

"You're absolutely right. You're way too good for me." He agrees in a teasing tone, pressing a series of light kisses along your jawline. He pulls back slightly, his arms still holding you, and gazes lovingly at you. "But I'm pretty sure you love me anyway."

"That I do," Your smile grows wider, as he admires you. "Now, let's eat." 

"Yes, ma'am." He replies with a mock salute, pulling out a chair for you before taking a seat himself. He looks at the meal before him, his eyes widening in excitement. "Oh, this looks incredible. You really outdid yourself."

He immediately digs into the food, humming in appreciation at the first bite. He looks up at you with a grateful smile. "You seriously are the best, you know that?"

"Thank you, my love." You bite down on your lip, watching as he devours his whole plate. "There's more in the kitchen if you're still hungry." You continue snacking on your plate. 

Clark chuckles at your comment, his appetite seemingly endless. "You're probably right. I could eat a horse right now." He stands up and heads to the kitchen to get seconds, returning a few moments later with an even more generous plate of food. 

He sits back down and digs in again, clearly savoring every bite. "I swear, you make the best food," He says between mouthfuls, his words slightly muffled. "I don't know how I survived before we started dating."

"I guess now you're going to need to hire me as a private chef," You tease with a laugh, "Or just move in already, since you swing by every night to steal some food." 

Clark chuckles at your tease, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Guilty as charged," He admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But can you blame me for coming over here when you cook like this?"

He takes another bite, savoring the flavor before continuing. "And about moving in... I have to say, I think it's starting to make more and more sense." 

"Yeah?" You stand from your seat, moving to sit on his lap instead, your arms wrapping around his neck. "You're considering living together?" Your eyes remain locked on his, fingers brushing over his cheekbones lovingly. 

Kent wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you settle on his lap. He gazes into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. "I am," He says quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. 

"To be honest, I've been thinking about it for a while now. It just makes sense, you know? I spend more time here than I do at my apartment anyway." He leans in and kisses your forehead, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"Well, I can't say I wouldn't love that." You sit back on his thighs, hands cupping his face as your heart pounds against your chest. 

Clark's heart skips a beat as he looks up at you, your touch sending a shiver down his spine. He gazes at you adoringly, his eyes filled with desire and affection.

"Really?" He asks softly, his hands gently resting on your hips. "You're sure you're ready for me to invade your space full-time?" He teases with a grin, but his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"I'm more than ready, Clark." You lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Clark melts into the kiss, his arms winding tighter around your waist. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours in soft, sweet rhythm.

He reluctantly breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look up at you with a tender expression. His eyes search yours for a moment before he breaks into a shy smile. 

"You know, there are some benefits to me moving in…" He says, his voice soft.

"Benefits?" You smirk, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull yourself even closer. "Like finally letting me join that harem of yours?" You tease, knowing the 'Superman harem' rumors are still bugging him. 

Clark groans dramatically at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully. "You're never going to let me live down that rumor, are you?" He huffs, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. 

He then smirks, running his hand down your back, his touch deliberate and suggestive. "Besides, why would I need a harem when I have the best woman right here in my lap?"

"Yeah?" You adjust yourself on his lap, skirt pushing up your thighs. "We still haven't made it past second base yet." Grabbing his free hand, you guide it between your legs. Despite his obvious desire for you, he resists the movement slightly, his grip on your thigh tightening.

He looks up at you with a mixture of embarrassment and hesitation. "Love, we're...we're in the middle of dinner…" He protests weakly, his voice a little shaky.

You sigh, leaning in to kiss his nose before leaving his lap. "Okay, you're right." Giving him a reassuring smile, you settle back in your seat, looking down at the plate in front of you. 

Clark releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as you lift yourself off his lap, the heat from his red cheeks slowly subsiding. He watches you settle back in your seat, a mixture of disappointment and relief flooding through him.

He shifts uncomfortably in his own seat, his body still tingling from the closeness and the brief suggestion. He attempts to compose himself, clearing his throat and focusing on his plate once more.

You finish the dinner in silence; it would be a lie to say you're not frustrated. You're *very* sexually frustrated, but outside of that, your relationship has always been amazing, so you're not going to push him on this. 

You return to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes and putting away leftovers, trying to clear your mind. Clark watches you as you tidy up the kitchen, his gaze following you around the room. 

He can sense your frustration and tension, his sensitive hearing picking up on the subtle changes in your breath and heart rate. He rises from his chair and pads silently into the kitchen, standing behind you as you wash the dishes. 

He gently places his hands on your hips, his touch feather-light. "Love…" He whispers, his voice soft but hesitant.

"Hmm?" You respond with a hum, leaning back into his gentle embrace. Clark wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, a mix of the dinner you'd cooked and your natural pheromones that drive him wild.

His hands gently roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips, but stopping short of going any further. "Can we talk?" He murmurs against your skin, his words punctuated by a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Of course, we can." Your hand moves to his arm, slowly caressing the soft skin. 

His gaze flickers down to your hand on his arm, a mixture of desire and concern in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the words. "You know…we're different, right?" He finally manages to say, his voice tentative.

"I know... You're not from Earth, and you're a lot stronger than me." You chew on your lip, head pressed against his chest. 

"Yes, exactly." He nods, his grip on you tightening slightly. "I've always been careful, trying to control my strength so I don't hurt you accidentally..."

He hesitates for a moment, his voice growing quieter. "But with intimacy... It’s even more important. I have to be even more careful… to make sure I don't... lose control. I don't ever want to risk hurting you, love."

Turning in his arms, you look up at him before speaking. "Clark, I know... But I've got needs and I have been aching for you, I crave your touch *so* much." You nearly whine at this point, your body desperate for release. 

“Clark, please.” Your voice is a whisper now, taking his hand once again, you place it between your thighs, feeling his fingers brush against your sensitive spot. You let out a needy moan, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. 

Clark lets out a shaky breath as you guide his hand between your thighs, his mind warring between his desire for you and his fear of hurting you. He can feel the damp heat of your core through your clothing, and the primal, possessive part of him that's been suppressed all night finally begins to surface. 

He moves his other hand to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. "Love…" He groans, his voice thick with lust. "Are you sure you want this?"

"More than anything, Clark. More than anything..." You grind against his hand slightly. 

His breath catches in his chest as you grind against him, the last of his resistance crumbling away. In that moment, his desire for you outweighs all his hesitations, and he makes his decision.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your thighs and the other supporting your back. "Hold on to me," He whispers, his voice low and gravelly. "I'm taking you to the bedroom."

Clark carries you to the bedroom with the same gentle yet firm strength that you've come to love about him, the anticipation building with every step he takes. He sets you down on the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a fiery intensity that sends shivers down your spine. 

He takes a moment to simply look at you, drinking in every inch of your body, as if committing it to memory. He slowly pulls your dress over your head, exposing your curves to his eyes. He carefully removes your bra and panties, groaning at the sight. 

He slowly lowers himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he slides your legs apart. Kent kisses the inside of your thighs, moving closer and closer to the apex of your desire. 

His breath is hot against your skin, sending waves of need crashing through you as he lingers just shy of where you want him most, earning needy whines from you.

Finally, he reaches your cunt, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of you, wet and eager for him. He gently presses his lips to your clit, his tongue darting out to taste you. 

You gasp at the sensation, your hands flying to his hair to pull him closer. He doesn't need the encouragement; he's already lost in the sweetness of you, the way your body responds to his every touch. 

He licks and kisses you with a passion that's been building for months, his tongue swirling and flicking, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his face, and he holds your legs tight, his grip firm but not painful, keeping you in place as he explores you. 

He runs his tongue along the length of your labia, tasting your wetness, before delving into you, his tongue pushing deep inside, exploring every fold and curve of your pussy. 

You moan, your body trembling as he finds your G-spot and begins to flick it with unyielding precision. His other hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, which pebbles under his touch.

Clark's eyes are on yours, watching as you lose yourself in the pleasure he's giving you. His eyes are dark with desire, and you can see the strain in his jaw as he tries to hold back, to give you everything you need without losing control. 

You're so close, so close to coming, and you whisper his name, begging him not to stop. He responds by increasing the pressure, his tongue moving faster, his mouth suckling at your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

The first orgasm hits you like a meteor, your body convulsing as you cry out his name, your legs tightening around his head. But he doesn't stop, not even for a moment. 

He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue now lapping up the proof of your pleasure as it floods from your body. You try to push him away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but his arms are like steel bars, holding you in place, refusing to let you escape.

You whine for him to stop, but your pleas are met with a low, determined growl, his mouth never leaving you as he takes you through another orgasm, then another, until you're nothing but a quivering mess of nerves and need. 

Your orgasms come in waves now, each one rolling into the next, stealing your breath and making your legs tremble and shake. You're so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sensations that you're not sure how much more you can take.

But Clark doesn't stop, driven by his need to please you, to hear you scream his name as you come apart in his arms. He's relentless, his tongue and lips working you over with a skill that's both thrilling and terrifying. 

You're lost in a sea of pleasure, unable to do anything but cling to him as he pushes you further and further. Finally, you can't take it anymore. 

"Beg for me to fuck you," he whispers against your skin. And so you do, your voice hoarse and desperate, your body aching for the kind of release that only he can provide.

Clark's grip on your thighs tightens, his eyes flashing with triumph and desire as he stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He strips off his glasses, setting them aside, and then his shirt, revealing the sculpted chest and abs that make up the body of a superhero. 

“Fuck, Clark. You’re so sexy.” You lean forward, hand brushing over his muscles before your lips find purchase on his skin. 

With a primal growl, Clark's eyes burn with a fierce intensity that you've never seen before. He stands before you, his powerful body bared, his erection standing tall and proud between his legs. His muscles ripple and flex as he reaches down, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking it once before positioning it at your entrance.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, "I've wanted this for so long, love." His hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

You nod, your breath coming in pants. "I trust you, Clark."

With that, he presses forward, his cock sliding into you inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, the feel of him filling you up so completely, so perfectly. 

He's gentle at first, his movements slow and deliberate, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You can feel every vein, every ridge as he stretches you open, the sensation bordering on pain, but the pleasure quickly overwhelms any discomfort.

As he sinks deeper, he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. "You're so tight," He says, his voice strained. "So wet." 

His hips begin to rock, his cock sliding in and out of you with increasing speed. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and whimpers.

His hand moves from your face to your hip, his grip firm as he starts to thrust into you harder, his movements more demanding. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing more. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling low in your belly.

Clark leans down, capturing your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in the same rhythm as his cock. His free hand roams your body, finding your breast and pinching your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins.

You arch your back, pushing your chest up to meet his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you with a passion that's been simmering beneath the surface for months. 

His strokes are long and deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

He pulls out of your mouth with a gasp, panting against your neck as he nibbles and sucks on your earlobe. "You're mine," He murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine. "Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine forever."

You whimper in response, your body responding to his claim. You've never felt so owned, so claimed before, and it sends you spiraling over the edge. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as you cum, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

He groans, his movements becoming more erratic as he feels you tighten around him. His hips slam into yours, the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust. The bed shakes beneath you, a testament to his power and the intensity of his need.

He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as he continues to pound into you, gently yet forcefully.

You moan into his mouth, your hands sliding down to grip his ass, urging him deeper. You're so close, so close to cuming again. And then he hits that perfect spot, and you do, your pussy spasming around him as he drives into you, his cock hitting the back of your cervix.

Clark's orgasm follows swiftly, his cock pulsing inside you as he releases. He groans, his body shaking with the force of it, his cum filling you up.

[cowboybeepboop]

Taste

"Well, I did say I wanted to take you out. But I guess I couldn't wait to get you back here."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: Jimmy finally introduces you to Clark and works to set the two of you up on a date, which goes far better than planned. 

Warnings: Oral fem recieving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, p in v sex

Jimmy Olsen is your best friend who just so happens to have the easiest time getting girls when he apparently doesn’t want them. He’s like a chick magnet, yet this superpower was wasted on the wrong man. 

This is why you spend every lunch break eating with him, I mean *every* lunch break. You don’t mind though; he is your best friend, and there is a particular sight you’ve been enjoying recently.

You work in an office building right across the street from him as a magazine editor, practically the same thing Jimmy does, just less, well, notable. Quickly uttering a goodbye to your coworkers, you head out to a local deli to grab lunch. 

Jimmy's gaze was fixed out the office window, idly watching the traffic flow below, when he spotted you through the crowd. A grin instantly tugs at his expression, and he leans forward in his seat, his eyes following your every move.

He watches your approach and takes note of your annoyed demeanour. He chuckles to himself before quickly sitting up straight and plastering a mock-innocent look across his face. 

Just as you come through the door, he calls, "Hey there, sunshine!" he waves you over. You immediately feel eyes on you, like the whole room is staring you down. 

“Jimmy,” You reply with a groan, blushing as you reach his desk. “Here’s your lunch.” You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, eyes wandering to the familiar face of Clark Kent, your favorite lunchtime view. 

He takes the wrapped sandwich from you, and his eyes follow yours. He smiles, noticing the way you glance over.

"Ah, looking at Clark again, huh?" he teases as he unwraps the sandwich. "You know, he does have other hobbies besides looking pretty." You roll your eyes, trying to act nonchalant, but a small smile dances across your lips. Jimmy knows you too well.

"Let's just say we both enjoy our lunches together, but for different reasons." You grin, giving him a shrug as you take a bite from your sandwich. 

Jimmy smirks and takes a bite of his lunch, eyes still fixed on you. "Ah, the daily Clark Kent appreciation hour. I'll have to start charging you rent, you spend so much time staring at the guy." 

He winks, clearly enjoying teasing you about your not-so-secret crush. "You know, one of these days you might actually have to talk to Clark instead of just staring. He *is* a real person, not a statue."

You groan, putting your feet beside him on his chair. "You know, maybe I could talk to him if someone who knows him introduced us." You roll your eyes as you take another bite.  

Jimmy raises an eyebrow and pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he does. "Hm, someone who knows him, you say? You mean liiiiike... me?" he says with mock surprise. 

"Oh, the guy eating lunch right next to you who is actually friends with Clark? The guy you've known since middle school?" His smirk is wider now, enjoying your groaning even more.

"It's like you can read my mind," you giggle and out of the corner of your eye notice Clark's eyes on you, causing your ears to flush as you try to focus on your friend. Jimmy follows your gaze and lets out a small chuckle, noticing the way you react as Clark looks over.

“Hey, Clark,” Jimmy calls out, patting your knee as he does so. Your eyes widen with surprise as he calls out to him. You straighten up, fixing your clothes as you do so. 

Clark looks up from his work, noticing Jimmy waving him over. He smiles warmly and closes his laptop, getting up from his seat and making his way to his friend's desk. 

"Hey, Jimmy," Clark greets his friend. "What's up?" He looks between Jimmy and you with curiosity, noticing the way you seem a little bit flustered.

"Oh, I just thought I should introduce you to my friend." Jimmy grins, motioning to you. 

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You offer your hand to Clark for him to shake. 

Clark smiles warmly and shakes your hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Clark Kent." His grip is firm but gentle, and his eyes linger on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Nice to meet you too, Clark." You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers linger on your wrist before letting go of your hand.   Jimmy excuses himself, to god knows where, leaving you alone in Clark's presence.

Clark notices the way you bite your lip, and he can't help but smile a little bit. He watches as Jimmy leaves, leaving the two of you alone.

"So, Y/N." Clark leans against the edge of the desk, his gaze still fixed on you. "How long have you been working at the magazine across the street?"

"How did you know I work there?" You perk up with surprise, eyes glistening. "Oh my... Does Jimmy talk about me?"

Clark lets out a soft laugh, amused by your reaction. "No, no, nothing like that." He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I've just noticed you around. It's hard not to see you, you know."

He gestures towards the window behind you, out of which he can see the magazine office across the street. "I mean, you're right across the street. I couldn't miss you."

Your cheeks instantly flush, "You're a smooth talker, Clark." 

You both spend the rest of your breaks chatting, with Jimmy nowhere to be found. Before leaving, you give Clark your number so you can continue chatting. He finds himself more and more drawn to you with each passing minute. As you exchange numbers and say your goodbyes, Clark can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in his chest.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you texted each other constantly, as well as chatting during your lunches. You found yourselves getting to know each other better through messages and jokes. Kent enjoyed the light banter with you. He also found it easier to be himself around you.

One Friday, he invites you and Jimmy over for dinner, a friendly gesture, yet it leaves you flustered. By the time evening has arrived, you have spent the entire day overthinking your outfit, your hair, your makeup, every last detail of your appearance. 

"Fuck," you grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You're currently outside his building, trying to relax before you try to go up to see him. 

Finally, you just exit the car, stifling your nerves and bringing a bottle of red wine with you. You make it inside, finding Clark waiting in the lobby for you.

He’s dressed casually, in a simple button-down shirt and jeans. As he sees you approach, his face lights up with a smile. 

"Hey, you made it!" He greets you warmly, his eyes falling to the bottle of red wine in your hand. "Oh, you didn't have to bring anything." Despite his protest, he secretly finds the gesture endearing.

"I figured it would be nice to share a drink! Especially since you're hosting." You smile, looking up at him, you're dressed in a light yellow satin dress that complements your eyes. 

Clark's gaze lingers on your form, taking in the way your dress fits you perfectly. He swallows hard, feeling a bit flustered as he realizes that you look incredibly attractive.

"Yeah," he says, clearing his throat lightly. "You look nice." He gestures towards the elevators. "Come on, I'll show you up to my place."

"Thank you," You bite down on your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you follow behind him. 

Kent leads you into the elevator, stealing glances at you as the doors close. He can't help but notice the way your dress hugs your figure, and the way you’re biting your lip. He finds himself wanting to touch you, to pull you closer, but restrains himself.

When the elevator arrives at Clark's floor, he leads you to his apartment, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. "After you."

"Why, thank you, Clark." You step inside, taking in the space around you. "Wow, your apartment is beautiful." He follows behind you, watching as you examine his living space. 

"Thanks," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I tried to make it comfortable."

He leads you further into the apartment, motioning for you to have a seat on the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll go grab the food."

Clark disappears into the kitchen, leaving you alone for a moment. "Sounds perfect." You take a seat, as he busies himself in the kitchen, you take the opportunity to continue looking around. His apartment is spacious and well-furnished, with a cozy, lived-in feel to it. 

There are a few photos on the walls, mostly of him with friends and family. You notice some bookshelves, filled with a mix of different genres. 

After a while, Clark returns with two plates of food, setting one down in front of you before taking a seat next to you on the couch. "Is Jimmy still coming tonight?" You question with a small smile. 

He raises an eyebrow at your question, noticing the subtle hint of hope in your voice. He chuckles and shakes his head softly.

"No, Jimmy called earlier and said something came up." He pauses for a moment, gauging your reaction. "Looks like it's just the two of us tonight."

"He's such a little sneak." A small laugh falls from your lips, you know damn well it was his idea to plan this get-together, only to cancel so you would be alone with Clark. 

Clark laughs along with you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds like something Jimmy would do. He's always trying to play matchmaker."

He watches you carefully, noticing the small signs of relief and anticipation in your expression. He decides to push a little further.

"So, since it's just the two of us...there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Your eyebrows furrow as you scoot closer to him, "What's up?"

Kent's eyes trace over your face, admiring the way you're so close to him now. His mind races with thoughts of how soft your skin looks, but he focuses on your question.

"Well…" he starts, clearing his throat. "It's just... I've been enjoying spending time with you. A lot, actually." He reaches out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering a bit longer than necessary.

You instinctively reach up, your fingers brushing against his. "I have too." 

Clark's gaze locks with yours as you touch his fingers, an undeniable spark of chemistry igniting between you. He takes a deep breath, his hand moving to caress your cheek gently.

"There's something about you, Y/N." His voice is soft and sincere, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. "You're just so natural and genuine..."He scoots closer to you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, you can ask anything." You murmur, eyes focused on his, noticing the way he moves closer. 

Clark's gaze doesn't leave yours, completely fixated on how you look right now. Your face is only inches away from his own, the intensity of his stare almost overwhelming. He takes a moment to collect himself, his hand still cupping your cheek lightly. 

He takes a deep breath as he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can I..." He trails off for a beat, his gaze flickering down to your lips. The tension in the room is palpable.

"Kiss me?" You finish the sentence for him, leaning into his hand, desperate for more of his touch. Kent's eyes darken as he notices how you lean into his touch, confirming his desire for you.

"Yes," he whispers, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. His other hand finds your hip, pulling you closer to him. "Yes, I want to kiss you." 

You respond with a nod as he closes the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips with his own in a gentle but hungry kiss. You respond eagerly, your hands moving to his waist as you move closer, a small moan escaping into his mouth.

Clark's heart races as he hears the sound of your moan, his grip around your waist tightening. He pulls you into his lap, wanting you as close as possible.

The kiss deepens, and his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. He's completely consumed by you, drowning in the sensation of your bodies pressed together. You let his tongue in, hands tangling into his curls, as you pull yourself closer and closer. 

He lets out a soft groan as your fingers thread through his hair, his own hand moving up to cup your jawline, tilting your head slightly for better access. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting you fully.

He shifts, adjusting your position in his lap so that you're straddling him, your thighs on either side of his hips. He breaks the kiss for a moment, breathless, his eyes roaming your face hungrily.

"Fuck..." You moan, breathless and needy. Your finger tugs on his hair gently as you admire his features from this close. "You're beautiful, Clark." 

Clark's eyes flutter shut, a shiver running down his spine as you tug at his hair and compliment him. He presses his forehead against yours, his hands roaming over your body, touching every inch of you he can reach.

His breathing is heavy and ragged, his desire for you growing with every second. "You're one to talk," he replies, his voice thick with want. "You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N."

You smile bashfully, relishing the way his hands hold your waist as if he's afraid you're going to float away. "Always such a sweet talker." You tease, letting your hands fall to his shoulders.

Despite being completely lost in the moment, Clark suddenly stops, his hands pausing their exploration of your body. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his eyes roaming over your face as he realizes something.

"Wait," he says, his voice hoarse. "We're doing this a bit out of order, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?" You question him, eyebrows furrowed and lips still parted.

Clark lets out a small chuckle, his grip on your waist tightening softly. "Well...I haven't even taken you out on a proper date yet."

He pauses, his expression almost sheepish. "Here I am, making out with you on my couch, and I haven't even taken you to dinner first."

"Well, there is dinner," you gesture to the plates behind you, eyes still focused on the man beneath you. 

Kent follows your gaze, laughing softly as he notices the forgotten plates of food. "I guess you have a point there," he muses, his hands resuming their exploration of your body.

But then he looks back up at you, his expression turning more serious. "But still, you deserve to be wined and dined. I'm doing this all backwards."

"I'll grab the wine," You reluctantly slide off his lap, heading toward the kitchen to open the bottle. "I'm sure the food is still mostly warm."

Clark follows after you into the kitchen, watching as you grab the wine. His gaze never leaves your form, his mind still reeling from the moment you were just in together.

As you reach for the glasses, Kent steps behind you, his body almost pressed against yours. He notices you can't quite reach, so he gently grabs them from the higher shelf, his chest grazing against your shoulder. 

"Here, let me help." His voice is low and soft, just inches away from your ear.

You shiver at his touch, accidentally knocking the wine over and spilling it on your dress. "Oh shit!" You quickly pick up the bottle, reaching for a towel to clean the counter with. 

"Whoa, it's okay." Clark rushes to grab a towel as well, helping you mop up the spill. He notices the red stain spreading on your dress and winces.

"Shoot, I'm sorry," he apologizes, his hand gently resting on your lower back as he helps clean up. "We can't seem to catch a break tonight, can we?"

"It's okay," You smile reassuringly, pulling the fabric away from your skin. "But I don't suppose you know how to get red wine out?" 

"Hmm, actually, I do." Clark grins, setting the towel down on the counter. He reaches around you to take the wine-stained part of your dress between his fingers, examining the stain.

"It's all about the right products," he explains, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You need to make a mixture of warm water and dish soap, then gently dab at the stain. It should lift the wine right out."

"Here, help me out of it." You turn so your back is to him, "That way we can clean it off." 

Kent's eyes widen slightly as you turn so your back is facing him, a subtle shiver of anticipation running through him. He tries to remain composed, his fingers moving to the zipper of your dress.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his breath ragged, then he begins to slowly unzip your dress. His knuckles brush lightly against the exposed skin of your back. "Is this okay?" he asks, his voice low.

"Mhm," his touch is warm and electric, sending chills down your spine. You finish slipping out of the garment, standing awkwardly in front of him, arms covering your chest. 

As you stand before him, your bare shoulders and back exposed, Clark can't help but let his gaze roam over you. He notices the way you try to cover your chest, and he feels a wave of possessiveness wash over him.

He reaches out, gently taking your wrists in his hands. "Don't cover up," he murmurs, his voice soft yet commanding. "You're breathtaking, you know that, right?"

"Clark.." You murmur, taking a step closer to him. 

Kent's heart races as you step closer to him, the heat radiating from your bare skin driving him wild. He releases your wrists, his hands gently gripping your hips instead.

"You're making it hard to behave," he whispers, his thumbs tracing small circles into your flesh. He looks you up and down, his gaze hungry with desire. 

"Then don't." You reach behind you, unclasping your bra and freeing more skin to his eyes. "I don't want you to hold back, Clark."

Clark almost audibly whines as you drop your bra to the floor, his eyes darkening with lust. He takes a sharp intake of breath, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulls you closer to him.

"You have no idea the things you do to me, Y/N." His voice is raw, almost animalistic with desire. "I've been holding myself back, trying to be a gentleman..."

"Please," You wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pressing against his chest as you pull yourself closer to him. "Be a gentleman later."

Kent is absolutely undone by your desperate plea, his last bit of restraint evaporating instantly. He pushes you up against the kitchen counter, his body pressing against yours as he pins you in place.

He dips his head down, capturing your lips in a needy, heated kiss. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted you," he mumbles against your mouth. "I've been fantasizing about you for months."

You let out a needy moan in response, pulling him back in for another kiss. His large hands fully capture each one of your breasts in their palms, massaging the soft flesh as he devours your lips. 

Clark's hands are firm yet gentle as he lifts you onto the cold kitchen counter, the urgency in his movements evident. You wrap your legs around his waist, your need for him growing with each second that passes. His eyes are filled with a fiery lust that you can't help but get lost in as he reaches for the edge of your panties.

With a quick tug, he pulls them down, revealing your slick cunt to the cool air. He groans against your mouth, his hands moving to your thighs to spread them apart wider. 

His eyes are glued to your center as he lowers himself to his knees, a silent promise of pleasure reflected in his gaze. His tongue darts out, tracing the seam of your pussy as you gasp, your hands fisting into his hair. 

His kisses are soft and worshipful, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment. He licks and kisses along your inner thighs, savoring the taste of your skin before finally pressing his mouth against your clit.

You cry out as he starts to suck, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing and taunting until you're squirming against him. His hands hold you in place, keeping you open for his eager mouth as he devours you whole. 

He's methodical, his movements precise and calculated, each lick and suck bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Clark's eyes never leave yours as he continues to pleasure you, watching as your pupils dilate and your breath hitches. 

You can feel yourself getting wetter with every pass of his tongue, your body begging for more. He obliges, sliding a finger inside of you, curling it to hit that sweet spot that has you seeing stars.

You buck against his face as your orgasm crashes over you, the sensation so intense it feels like you're falling apart. Clark doesn't stop, though, his tongue still working you over as you ride out the waves of pleasure. 

It's like he's worshiping you, his mouth a testament to his desire to give you everything you crave.

As the first climax subsides, he doesn't let up. He laps at your juices, eager to taste every last drop, his finger still moving inside of you, keeping you on the edge. 

He knows you can take more, and he's determined to give it to you. Another orgasm builds, and you can't help but moan his name, your legs shaking around his shoulders.

The second time you come, it's harder and longer, your entire body convulsing with pleasure. He keeps going, his touch never faltering, until you're a trembling mess, your body completely at his mercy. 

He kisses your clit one last time before standing, his eyes never leaving yours, a sweet satisfaction on his face as he watches you try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, Clark," you whisper, your voice hoarse from your moans. He smiles, his face glistening with your arousal. "You're going to kill me."

He chuckles, his hands moving to your waist to help you down from the counter. "Only if you want me to," he murmurs, kissing you deeply as he lifts you off the counter. His hands roam over your naked body as he holds you, his own need for you palpable. 

Clark leads you through the apartment, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand securely around your waist. His grip tightens slightly as he reaches his bedroom, pulling you closer to him.

With a gentle push, he guides you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, causing you to sit down. He stands before you, his eyes dark with desire as he begins to unbutton his shirt, one button at a time. 

You watch, your heart racing, as he reveals the strong, muscular chest beneath the fabric. As the shirt falls away, you can't help but reach out, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs and the broad expanse of his chest. 

He's so warm to the touch, and the feel of his skin against yours sends shivers down your arms. With a soft smile, he leans down to kiss you again, his mouth gentle and insistent. 

You melt into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. He kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin, sending bolts of pleasure through your body. 

Your breath hitches as he reaches your collarbone, his tongue swirling around it before moving further down. He pulls you to stand, taking you in his arms and kissing you deeply once more before gently pushing you back onto the bed. 

He follows, his body pressing against yours, his erection pressing against your thigh.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation, but all he sees is the same desire reflected back at him. With a soft sigh, he moves down your body, his kisses turning more urgent as he reaches your breasts.

He takes one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from your lips. His hand moves to your other breast, his thumb rolling the nipple as he sucks and nibbles on the first.

You arch your back, pushing yourself into his mouth, the pleasure of his touch almost too much to bear. He moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, his hand moving lower to gently stroke your thigh.

He kisses down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button, causing you to giggle and squirm beneath him. His eyes sparkle with amusement before he continues his descent, kissing and licking every inch of skin he can reach.

Finally, he reaches your center, his breath hot against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes full of need, and asks, "Can I?"

You nod, unable to form words, your chest heaving with anticipation. He pulls away, his eyes locking with yours as he reaches for the zipper of his pants. He undoes it with a swift motion, his erection springing free, thick and hard.

You lick your lips, unable to tear your gaze away as he moves to kneel between your legs. He kisses up your body, his cock brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever it touches.

When he reaches your face, he kisses you deeply, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. He pauses for a moment, giving you one last chance to protest, but all you do is wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

With a groan, he slides inside of you, his cock stretches you open, inch by inch, until he's fully seated within you. You gasp into his mouth as he fills you completely, the sensation of being so utterly claimed by him making your toes curl. 

His hips start to rock, setting a slow, sensual rhythm that has your body responding instantly. He moves with a deliberate grace, his every thrust hitting that spot deep within you that makes your eyes roll back in your head. 

You can feel the heat building between your legs as he fucks you with a gentle ferocity, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white as you try to hold on, your nails digging into the fabric. 

He breaks the kiss, moving to suck and nibble on your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands move to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he continues to drive into you. 

The sound of your wetness fills the air, mingling with the ragged breaths you're both taking.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like you're the only woman in the world. His strokes grow longer, deeper, and more demanding, and you match him, moving your hips to meet his every thrust. 

You can feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening around him as the pressure builds.

He whispers your name in your ear, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Cum for me, Y/N," he urges, his voice a low growl. "Let me feel you come apart around me."

With that final push, you do. Your body arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes through you, a scream of pleasure ripped from your throat. Clark's eyes widen, watching your face as your pussy clamps down around his cock, the sight of you losing control pushing him over the edge.

He groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you into climax, filling you with his hot seed. His body goes rigid with pleasure, muscles tensing as he releases everything he's been holding back.

When the tremors finally subside, he collapses onto you, his weight a comforting warmth as you both try to catch your breath. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, as if he's afraid to let go.

You smile, your body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure. "So much for a proper date," you murmur into his ear, your voice laced with humor.

Clark chuckles, his breath warm against your neck. "Well, I did say I wanted to take you out. But I guess I couldn't wait to get you back here."

[cowboybeepboop]

Interview

"I want you so badly it hurts,"

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5k

Summary: You meet Clark while working for the “Justice Gang” and after your first date, things get a tad steamy. 

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, and oral (f&m receiving) sex

a/n: Per usual, if you have any requests, send them my way! I hope you enjoy <3 also I based this on the 2025 superman movie, that's why they're called the justice gang

Luck has never been on your side.

It got worse in university, with failed relationships following failed classes. Nothing ever seemed to go *just* right. 

You don’t know when this bad luck truly started, but strangely, what ended it is fucking Guy Gardener? 

He found your resume and decided that the “Justice Gang”, or more over, THE Green Lantern, needed an assistant. You get decent pay and decent hours, spending most of your time running around doing small tasks for them.

There’s not really much an ordinary human can do to help a bunch of superheroes fight crime or aliens or supervillains, honestly, the list goes on. But you are *not* going to fail at this job, that is one thing you know for sure. 

That’s why you set up this interview with Clark Kent, the man who writes about Superman. Of course, he’s written about your bosses before, but no one has ever interviewed them to get to know them. 

“Coffee, everyone!!” You walk into the building holding a carrier filled with drinks, a sweet grin on your face as you set them on the table. Taking a deep breath, the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee fills the air and your nostrils. 

The Justice Gang's headquarters buzzes with energy, even when the heroes are off-duty. As the last of the drinks is claimed, you notice Clark Kent lingering by the door, notebook and pen in hand. 

"Hi!" You wave at him while walking in his direction. "You must be Clark, I'm Y/N, we spoke on the phone." You offer your hand for him to shake. Clark is taken off guard by your remembering his name. He takes your hand and shakes it, a little surprised.

"Uh, yeah, that’s right. Clark Kent. Reporter." He says, nodding. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he mentally cringes at his awkward self-introduction.

You giggle softly, trying to lighten the awkwardness. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Kent." 

Clark gives you a soft smile, appreciating your attempt to ease the awkwardness. "Please, just call me Clark," he replies, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before he glances away. 

He can feel his heart rate increase slightly, an almost unnoticeable change. Clark clears his throat before speaking again. "So, shall we get to the interview?"

"That sounds perfect!" Your grin widens, "Although, since you are a little bit early, I'll show you around headquarters. Guy tends to be a little grumpy in the morning." 

Clark chuckles lightly, his expression lighting at your words. "I can only imagine," he says, returning your smile. "Lead the way." 

He follows you as you start to give him a tour of the headquarters. Clark takes in every detail, his reporter instincts taking over as he imagines the various articles he could write about the Justice Gang and their headquarters.

You show him around the whole building, explaining to him your knowledge of the rooms, before long, you're back in the main room with the heroes. "Okay, who is up first?" 

Once the interviews concluded, Clark finds his way back to you, stopping just in front of your desk. 

He waits for you to look at him before speaking. His eyes meet yours, and you can't help but notice the way his gaze softens and how his lips quirk into a small smile. He clears his throat and speaks up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," you smile, standing from your seat. "What's up?"

He glances around for a moment, as if making sure no one is listening in on their conversation, before he hesitantly takes a small step closer to you. "Um, could we talk in private for a minute?" He asks, his voice dropping to a quiet tone.

You nod, curious about what he wants to talk about in private. "Sure," you reply, gesturing for him to follow you. You head towards an empty meeting room not far from your desk and invite him inside. 

Once the doors close, the noise from the rest of the building fades away, leaving you and Clark alone in the room. You turn to him expectantly.

The room feels a lot more intimate now that it's just the two of you. Clark glances around the room, taking in the sparse furnishings, before turning his gaze back to you. There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, like he's a bit unsure of how to say what he needs to say.

"Can I ask you something... personal?" He says, his voice quieting even further.

"Personal?" You take a seat on the edge of the desk, "As long as it's off the record." You tease, trying to ease tensions. 

Clark lets out a small, almost nervous chuckle, appreciating your attempt to lighten the mood. 

"Right, off the record," he nods, clearing his throat again. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, a habit you've noticed he does when he's feeling particularly restless. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. 

"It's a bit personal, but... I've been wondering..." He starts, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. "Are you...currently dating anyone?"

"Are you intending to ask me on a date, Mr. Clark Kent?" Your grin widens as you hop off the desk, striding over to him. 

Clark's cheeks flush slightly at your words, caught off guard by your forwardness. He takes a half-step backward, leaning against the wall for support, his composure momentarily thrown. "I, um... well..." he stammers, stumbling over his words. 

He's clearly flustered, which you can't help but find adorable. After a few moments, he finally manages to regain his composure and meet your gaze. He gives you a small, sheepish smile. "...Maybe," he admits, his voice sounding a little uncertain.

"I would love that." Your eyes shine as you crane your neck to look up at him. 

Clark's expression brightens at your affirmative response, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a mix of relief and excitement. He looks down at you, his gaze softening as he takes in your features. 

"Really?" he asks, his voice just above a whisper. There's a hint of disbelief in his tone, as if he wasn't expecting you'd say yes. He takes a step closer, shrinking the distance between the two of you.

Clark can feel his heart pounding in his chest at the feeling of your hand on his arm. He can't believe that you're actually agreeing to go out with him. 

"Tonight?" he repeats, a hint of surprise in his voice. He quickly regains his composure, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, um, I'm free. Tonight... sounds great." 

He glances down at your hand on his arm, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to your face.

"Perfect, pick me up here at 6." You pat his shoulder gently before returning to your desk. 

Clark watches you walk away, his gaze following after you until you reach your desk. He can still feel the heat from where your hand had been on his arm, his skin tingles at the memory of your touch.

He takes a deep breath, his chest swelling with excitement and anticipation. 6pm couldn't come soon enough. He gathers his things and heads out, mentally preparing himself for your date.

You find yourself watching the clock, eyes shifting between things in the room and the time. There’s just something about Clark that has you impatient to spend more time with him, but you can’t quite place what it is. 

“So, you’re going on a date with the reporter?” Guy leans over the table, eyes locked on you with his arrogant smile plastered on. 

“How did you figure that one out?” You reply, taking a sip from your mug. 

“Intuition,” His grin grows wider, “We’ve gotta get you dolled up!” Guy has always been, well. Guy. And apparently that means being focused on your date. 

The team spent the entire day “prepping” you for your dinner with Clark, although you didn’t exactly need any help. By the time he arrives to pick you up you’re beyond exhausted from the superheroes. 

“Thank heaven,” you murmur as you head out the door and straight for Clark. 

Clark is waiting by the curb, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against his car. He looks up as you approach, his gaze taking in your appearance. He straightens up, a smile growing on his face as he takes a step towards you. 

"Wow..." he breathes out, his eyes still taking in every detail. "You look stunning." He offers you his arm, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don't look half bad yourself," you tease while sliding into the seat. 

Clark chuckles softly, a hint of bashfulness in his expression as he shuts the door behind you before making his way to the driver's side. He gets in and starts the car, his eyes catching your gaze for just a moment before shifting back onto the road.

"So, I hope you don't mind, but I kind of already have our evening... planned out." He says, a hint of sheepishness in his tone.

"I love that," Kent planning out the whole evening for both of you, just shows how equally excited he is for the night. 

He smiles, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he glances over at you. "I did my research," he says with a hint of pride. 

He starts to drive, navigating the streets with ease. The evening sky is already beginning to darken, the setting sun casting a warm glow across the horizon. 

Clark steals another glance at you, his gaze lingering on your profile for a moment before returning to the road. "I hope you're hungry," he says, a small teasing hint in his tone.

The date went by in a blur, the hours flying by without you realizing it. As the two of you arrive back at your apartment, there's a sense of reluctance between the two of you. Neither of you wants the night to end, but the reality is that it has to eventually.

Kent pulls the car to a stop outside your place, and the two of you sit in silence for a moment, both of you trying to think of an excuse to prolong the evening even more.

You turn to face him, small pout on your lips. "Clark.." 

The pout on your lips makes Clark's heart skip a beat. It's a sight he hopes to see again, over and over. He turns to face you fully, one hand still resting on the steering wheel. "Yes...?" He prompts, his gaze locked on your face, drinking in every detail.

"Come up with me." You reach for his hand, placing a small kiss on his knuckles. "We could watch another movie, talk some more, anything..."

Clark feels a stirring inside him as you kiss his knuckles. Your words and the soft touch make his heart skip another beat, the thought of spending more time with you too enticing to resist. 

"I can't think of anything I'd rather do," he replies, his voice quieter than before. He squeezes your hand gently before he unbuckles his seat belt. "Lead the way."

You excitedly lead him up the stairs to your door, quickly unlocking it, then pulling him inside. "It's not much, but it's what I have for now." You awkwardly show him around the small apartment before pulling him to the couch.

The cramped surroundings are a stark contrast to his spacious penthouse, but he finds comfort in the simplicity and intimacy it offers. 

He takes a seat beside you on the couch, leaving some space between you. "It's cute," he says with a warm smile, his eyes glancing around. Despite the small size, it feels like a home, filled with your presence.

"Thank you," you giggle, scooting closer to him as you reach for the remote. 

Clark unconsciously shifts a bit closer as you scoot closer, his proximity to you now only inches apart. He can almost feel the heat radiating off of you, sending a shiver down his spine. He watches as you grab the remote, his gaze lingering on the way your hand holds the device. 

He clears his throat, shaking away those thoughts. "So... what do you want to watch?" he asks, his voice slightly huskier than before.

"Hmm," You bite on your lip, trying to think of what to turn on. "I'm not sure, what do you think we should watch?" Facing him, your eyes focus on his side profile. His slight blush, strong jaw, bright blue eyes, you gulp as your heart starts to race.

Clark can feel your gaze on him, the intensity of your stare making his heart beat faster. Your proximity combined with the way you're looking at him makes it hard for him to think straight. He turns to face you fully, his eyes locking with yours.

"I, uh..." he starts, his voice coming out a bit breathless. He's distracted, his brain unable to focus on the question at hand. He glances down at your lips, his gaze lingering for a moment before he forces himself to look back up at your eyes.

You accidentally drop the remote, snapping both of you out of your trances. "Uh, is a comedy movie okay?" you murmur while picking it back up. 

"Comedy? Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Clark nods, clearing his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the daze he was in. 

He leans back against the couch, watching as you start setting up the movie. His gaze drifts over your form, taking in the curves of your body, the way your hair falls over your face. He wonders if you're aware of the effect you have on him.

You flip through Netflix, finding one to quickly put on, tension heavy in the air. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna change into something less stiff." You say, motioning to the outfit you're in. 

"Right, yeah. Go ahead." Clark nods, his eyes following your every move as you get up from the couch. He can't help but watch you walk away, his gaze lingering on your figure until you disappear into your bedroom. 

He lets out a low breath, trying to compose himself. Being alone in your apartment, in your space, is wreaking havoc on his senses. He finds himself adjusting the crotch of his slacks, which has started to grow uncomfortably tight.

Slipping out of your work clothes and into an oversized t-shirt, you half debate on leaving your bra on, but the wire has been digging into you for the past half hour, so the choice is obvious. 

You take a second to gather your mind, standing with your hand on the doorknob. With one last deep breath, you step back out, settling onto the couch next to Clark once again. 

As you return to the couch, Clark's gaze is immediately drawn to you. The change in attire, the oversized shirt that hangs off one shoulder, the absence of a bra underneath... it all hits him like a ton of bricks. His throat dries up, and he has to swallow hard to keep his composure.

His eyes rake over your form, taking in every detail. His gaze is a mix of lust and admiration, a burning hunger behind his otherwise gentle eyes.

"I hope your clothes aren't too uncomfy," You say while pulling your knees up to your chest, resting your head against his shoulder, eyes focused on the tv.

Clark can feel your head press against his shoulder, a wave of heat coursing through him at the closeness. The scent of your perfume is almost intoxicating, filling his senses. He's hyper-aware of the way your body is pressed against his, every nerve in his body on edge. 

"No," he replies, his voice coming out a bit hoarse. He shifts slightly on the couch, his pants feeling tighter than before. "I'm comfortable."

"I'm glad," you nuzzle into his side, finding his scent and warmth inviting. "I want to be a good host, so if you need anything, just let me know!"

Clark can hardly think with you pressed against him like this, your body so close he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He wants to touch you, to pull you into his lap and feel your body against his. But he manages to resist, his hands clenching into fists to keep from roaming over you.

"You're doing great," he replies, his voice still a bit huskier than usual. "I don't need anything." Except you, his mind adds. Your hand falls to his thigh, body fitting perfectly in the side of his as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. 

The moment you place your hand on his thigh, Clark's breath hitches, his entire body tensing at the sensation. The way you fit perfectly against him isn't helping the situation in his pants. His arm around you tightens, pulling you even closer to him. 

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, can smell the scent of your hair, mixed with his cologne. It's an intoxicating combination. He has to fight the urge to bury his face into your hair.

You pick up on the tension in his body, the bulge in his slacks. "Clark," Your voice is soft and hesitant as you let your hand slide up his leg. 

Clark's breath hitches in his throat as your hand moves up his leg. It takes all of his willpower not to buck his hips up into your touch. He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes flicking to your face as you say his name. 

"Yes...?" he manages to get out, his voice even huskier than before. The tension in his body grows tenfold, a coiled spring wound tight and ready to snap.

Your hand slides even further up, you pause for a second, eyes locking with his before continuing. "I want you." Your palm brushes against his bulge, pressing into him softly as your lips tease his neck. 

Kent's mind goes blank the moment your hand brushes against him, and as you press your lips against his neck, he can no longer hold back. He lets out a guttural moan, his hand coming up to grip your chin, tilting your face up to his.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he growls, his voice thick with need. His eyes darken with desire, his body trembling with the effort it takes to keep himself from pouncing on you right then and there.

You press your lips to his, fingers fumbling with his belt, then his button and zipper. You're desperate to touch him, to please him, and your hand wraps around his dick. A moan escapes your lips at the size and feel of it against your skin.  

Clark's head falls back as you rain kisses down on him, his fingers gripping your hips tightly as you touch him. The sensations are overwhelming, his mind consumed by nothing but you and your touch. 

He's lost in a haze of desire, his body responding to every movement of your hand, his back arching off the couch as he moans your name. "Y/N, please," he gasps, his eyes locked on yours, dark with need. "I need you," he pleads.

Sliding off his lap, you settle between his legs, press a soft kiss to the tip of his length. Eyes taking in the sheer size of it. "Fuck Clark.. You're huge..." 

His brain short-circuits at your words, the sight of you between his legs, and the feel of your soft kiss nearly undoing him completely. He can only manage a strangled groan, his hips bucking forward involuntarily at the touch. 

"Y/N... sweetheart," he repeats, his voice thick with need. "I want you so badly it hurts," he admits.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling around it as you look up at him. Watching as he grips the arm of the couch and slightly pushes his hips into your mouth. 

The sight of you looking up at him, your lips wrapped around him, has him teetering on the edge, his control slipping away more with every passing second. He can barely think straight, his brain fogged with the intoxicating mix of need and desire that is you. 

"Y/N...oh, sweetheart...," he gasps, his hand coming up to grip the back of your head, holding you in place. A moan slips out of your stuffed mouth, and Clark's mind spins as the vibrations from your moan send waves of pleasure coursing through him. 

He's lost in a sea of sensation, his hold on your head tightening as he tries to regain a sliver of control. The faster you go, the more he moans, the nosies are becoming whiny and needy. He's at your mercy, completely undone by your touch and your desire.

Every moan and whimper from him is like a bolt of electricity, driving you insane. You can feel the tension building in his body, the desperation growing with every move you make. His hand on the back of your head tightens, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

"Please...please," he gasps, the pleading in his voice driving you wild. "I need you. I need you so bad. Please, don't stop," he begs, his body arching towards you. 

You can tell he’s close, so fucking close. 

Your hand cups his balls, gently squeezing them as you push as much of his dick into your mouth as you can, gagging on it with more length still left. His breathing grows erratic, his body trembling from the pleasure you're lavishing on him. 

The sight of you looking up at him, tears glistening in your eyes, and you barely being able to take him all. He can't tear his gaze away, his eyes locked on yours, completely captivated. 

His other hand grips one of the handles on the side of the couch with a force that he needs to be careful not to break. But as he cums, his resolve breaks, along with the arm of the couch. 

You stand quickly, eyes wide as you wipe the drool from your chin, swallowing the liquid in your mouth. “Woah…” you murmur, looking at the damage caused. “You’re strong… like *really* strong.” 

Clark's face goes pale, the realization of what just happened sinking in. He glances at the damaged couch, the broken arm a stark reminder of his superhuman strength that he has to constantly be careful of. 

"I...I'm sorry," he finally stutters out, his voice hoarse with shame. "I didn't mean to..." he tries to explain, but his words are still stumbling over themselves. 

He looks at the damaged couch again, his eyes falling back to you. He hates himself for losing control, for potentially scaring you.

You shake your head, walking over to him and cupping his face. "It's okay baby I promise," You press a soft kiss to his lips, barely being able to even on your tippy toes. 

His heart flutters at the nickname, your words and kiss helping ease his embarrassment. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him, needing a bit of your comfort. 

"But the couch.." he murmurs, glancing sheepishly at the broken piece of furniture.

"We can worry about that later," You hop up, legs wrapping around his waist as his arms support you. 

He lets out a soft chuckle, pulling you closer. He tightens his arms around you, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. 

"So demanding," he teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He starts to walk towards your bedroom, carrying you effortlessly. Once inside he lays you down gently on the bed, Clark takes his time taking your shirt off, savoring the feeling of his hands on your skin. 

His gaze roams over your newly exposed skin, his eyes taking in every inch. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his hand moving to gently touch the curve of your waist. 

He follows the path of his hand with his lips, placing soft but desperate kisses along your stomach. You moan at the sensation, goosebumps raising on your skin. “Clark…” your voice comes out as a whine.

The sound of you moaning his name has an immediate effect on him, the desire and need igniting within him again. He presses more kisses to your skin, his lips moving lower, inch by inch, until he reaches your hipbone. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, looking up at you with lust. His lips against you makes you squirm, moaning and whimpering beneath his touch. "Clark, don't tease me..." 

The sounds that you make drive him wild, his self-restraint wearing thin. He pulls away, just slightly, and looks up at your flushed face. 

"But you make the cutest noises," he murmurs, his voice thick with need. "I want to hear them all, sweetheart." His lips find a sensitive spot on your inner thigh, and he sucks on it lightly, leaving a mark. 

"All night long." He finally pulls your panties down, exposing your pulsing cunt to the air. With a groan of pure desire, Clark lowers himself between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze is filled with a fiery hunger that sends shivers down your spine. 

His breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tip of his tongue ghosting over your pussy, teasing your clit with feather-light flicks before he dives in, licking and sucking with a ferocity that matches the pounding in your chest. 

Your legs instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as your hips buck against his mouth. Your moans and whimpers fill the room, echoing off the walls as he devours you. 

His tongue slides into your wetness, exploring every inch, as his fingers dance around the sensitive bud of your clit. The intensity builds, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you until you're trembling on the edge of an orgasm so powerful, it feels like it could break you. 

Clark senses it and doubles his efforts, his tongue curling inside you, pushing you over the precipice and into a sea of ecstasy. Your body convulses under him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you cry out his name, your orgasm so intense it feels like it could shatter you into a million pieces.

But he's there to catch you, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight as you ride out the waves of pleasure. He kisses his way back up your body, his own need now palpable, his cock straining against his pants. 

You reach down to free him, once again, stroking him gently, your eyes never leaving his. With a growl of pure need, Clark enters you, filling you in one powerful thrust. 

Your bodies move in perfect harmony, the passion between you an unstoppable force. Each thrust is met with a moan, each touch a spark of fire that ignites your skin. The room spins as you climb higher, your eyes locked with his, his every move a declaration of his desire for you. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling him hit that spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, along with your moans and his grunts of effort.

Your nails dig into his back as he fucks you with an intensity that steals your breath away. The bed frame creaks with each powerful thrust, the headboard slamming against the wall in a steady rhythm that matches your racing heart. 

The pleasure is unbearable, your body begging for more as he hits that perfect spot over and over again. "Clark, harder," you whimper, your voice lost in the symphony of passion. He obliges, his strokes growing deeper and faster. 

You're so close, so fucking close, your orgasm just out of reach. Then, with a sudden shift, he pulls out, leaving you gasping. Before you can protest, he flips you over, your hands planted on the mattress to support your weight. 

You’re now straddling his hips and sliding down onto his cock. The sensation of him filling you up again sends a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. 

Now it's your turn to set the pace, your hips rocking against him as you ride him like a wild animal. His hands grip your waist, guiding you, urging you faster, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The feeling of power is intoxicating, the way he watches you with a mix of admiration and lust making your head spin. Each movement is a silent declaration of your desire, your body speaking a language of passion that needs no words.

 His dick hits that spot with every bounce, sending jolts of pleasure through your body that make your toes curl. Your moans become cries, your breaths ragged as you feel your climax approaching. 

“Please, please,” you whine, begging him to take over once again. He complies, bucking his hips upwards into you, your fingers dig into his shoulders. Your cunt squeezes around him, begging to be filled even more. 

“Just like that…” your words come out slurred and needy, “more.. Right there…” You’re practically chanting at this point as he keeps going. 

“Move with me,” He demands, his hands on your waist guiding them as he fucks up into you. You do as he says, rocking your hips against his even though it’s becoming too much. “Good girl.” 

You cry out as you finish, pulsing around his cock as he fills you up with his cum. Both of you are left panting. He lifts you off of him, gently and carefully holding you against his chest. He carries you to the bathroom, preparing a bath for the two of you to share.

[cowboybeepboop]

Supernova

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You finally managed to find out Clark’s deepest secret. 

a/n: This isn’t really proof-read, only some of it lol. But as always, send any requests my way! 

There were two things Clark was sure of:  

One, you weren’t gonna let his suspicious behavior go, 

And two, he fucking loves when you meddle in his life. 

Tensions had been high in the office since he started becoming… more odd. It started with something small, him missing a singular deadline. 

You know it’s one small mistake, but Kent isn’t one for mistakes. The entire time the two of you had been working together, he was ALWAYS early, no spelling or grammar mistakes, always on time when getting projects finished, the list goes on. 

He’s your favorite coworker for these exact reasons. Or he was, when he *was* on top of his game. 

Now, you spend every morning watching him come in disheveled and at least five minutes late, sipping on coffee with far too much sugar than necessary. 

He’s always been diligent about keeping work and his… hobby separate; however, one slip-up was just enough to get you on edge. Clark didn’t mean to make a habit out of it, at least not at first. But when he came in late, the first time, his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the look on your face standing next to his desk with a cup of coffee. 

Your coffee tended to be an acquired taste; you’d much rather be sipping on 5 Red Bulls to keep yourself awake, but that’s not too good for your health, so dumping a half cup of sugar in seemed like a better plan. 

Today marks the third time this month that he’s come in 15 after, of course, you’ve been keeping track of his out-of-character behavior. You’re a journalist, it’s what you do. 

Clark comes in with a donut between his lips, his phone to his ear, and glasses slipping down his nose. The guys start hounding him regarding his most recent paper. Teasing and prodding him while he speaks to his parents.

”Y/N? Any thoughts to add?” Jimmy questions with a sly smile, eyes shifting between Clark and you, a mischievous grin on his face. 

Today has been an exhausting morning, and you’re sure as hell not in the mood for any of your coworkers' bullshit, especially Jimmy’s. 

The more and more curious you get, the more you start to resent him, for not noticing how much you care and for hiding whatever this is from you. He lives rent-free in your brain. When you’re not thinking about work, you’re thinking about him and what he might be hiding. Even though it doesn’t *really* matter. 

“Dunno.” Your tone is agitated and voice firm. Clark shoots a confused glance your way. After all, he’d gotten used to your critiques and to not recieve more than a simple word?

It was driving him crazy, to say the least. 

Clark’s gaze has been shifting to you every ten minutes, on the dot. It’s becoming a compulsion. The Kryptonian couldn’t figure out for the life of him what could be wrong. You’re never this short with anyone and you never forget to hound him in the morning. 

Before long, you hear a throat clearing in front of you. Glancing up, you see a pair of scuffed dress shoes, creased slacks, and unbuttoned cuffs before finally meeting the piercing blue eyes that go with it. 

“Hey,” Clark awkwardly scratches his neck. You simply hum in response, eyes lowering to the empty Google tab you’ve been staring at for the past hour. 

“We’re heading out for lunch, care to join?” You shake your head no, pretending to type something into the search bar. He fidgets with his sleeves for a second before giving you a short goodbye and heading out. 

The second the room is mostly empty, you let out the exhausted sigh that’s been making your lungs sore. 

You begin spinning in your chair, matching the swarm of thoughts in your mind, eyes closed, with your head facing the ceiling. Mainly that it’s beyond suspicious that only Clark has been able to get interviews with Superman.

Suddenly, the thought appears. You sit up straight and start searching through the pages of his work, looking for any hints. By the time the group is back in the office, bustling with conversation, a sandwich is gently placed in front of you. 

“Stalking my work now, are you?” The sweet tone of Kent’s voice fills your ears. You spin around in your chair, staring up at his grin with narrowed eyes. 

“Clark Kent.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you begin assessing the situation. On the one hand, if you are correct and he is Superman, then his identity deserves to be protected. However, it is bad journalism for him to put out these false reports. 

His smile widens as he leans against the wall next to your desk. He is well acquainted with this facial expression of yours, and he knows that whatever comes next will be interesting. "Careful," he says, with a slight teasing tone, "Your investigative journalism is showing."

“Come with me.” You practically demand, grabbing the lunch he brought for you as you lead him off to the stairwell. 

Kent doesn't even put up a fight; he just walks alongside you, curious about what you have in mind. He's used to your bossy tendencies, and he's developed a certain fondness for them. He does, however, raise an eyebrow at being led to the stairwell, his nerves beginning to build up.

“You have a secret,” you begin, once the two of you are in the confines of the closed-off space. “And I think I might’ve just figured it out…” You press a finger to his chest, slightly and gently pushing him toward the concrete wall.

Kent's eyes widen as you push him slightly, his back bumping against the concrete wall. His heart is now pounding in his chest, a mix of intrigue and nerves coursing through him. He tries to play it cool, though, and gives a sly smile. "Oh really? And what secret might I be hiding, exactly?" he asks, his tone a touch higher than usual.

“Either you *are* Superman or you know who is.” You keep your voice firm yet a slight whisper, making sure he knows you’ve caught on but no one else will hear. Your eyes stay locked on him and his face, watching his expression. 

Kent's smirk falters for a moment as he processes your words. He swallows hard, realizing he's been found out. But he's too stubborn to admit it just yet, so he plasters a smirk back on his face and gives a dry chuckle. "That's quite a bold assumption, don't you think?" he challenges, avoiding eye contact.

"Bold? Certainly. However, you're the only one who has ever gotten an interview with him. Plus, recently you've been coming in late, looking like you've barely slept a wink." You take a step closer, getting into his personal space. 

Kent's heart rate picks up even more as you step closer, his personal space shrinking by the second. Your observation skills have always been sharp, but right now they're downright lethal. He can feel his defenses weakening, and he knows that denying it won't work for long. 

"Coincidence, really," he tries to brush it off, raising a hand in a gesture of nonchalance. "Everyone has off days, you know."

Realizing your tactics aren’t working, you decide on one last attempt at getting the truth. "I guess you're right," you sigh softly, taking a small bite from the sandwich he gave you. "I was just hoping you knew who he was. I have something I wanted to tell him.”

Kent's resolve starts to crumble even further, a mix of emotions warring on his face. He's torn between keeping his secret a secret and giving in to your relentless persistence. The way you nonchalantly bite into the sandwich, as if you haven't just been pinning him against a wall, is both endearing and irritating. 

"Something you wanted to tell him?" he asks, the curiosity getting the better of him despite trying his best to remain cool and collected.

"Oh well, you know... All the ladies go crazy for him, and I'm no exception." You grin. 

Kent's heart rate spikes at your admission, his mind racing. Hearing that you have a crush on his alter ego stirs up a mix of emotions in him; one part excitement, two parts concern. Trying to maintain his composure, he gives a weak smile. "Ah, so you're a hopeless fan-girl, huh?" he teases weakly.

"Not a hopeless fangirl." You shake your head, eyes watching the slight blush that continues to creep onto his skin. "I just want to spend... a night with him, if you get my drift." for extra effect you bite down on your bottom lip. 

Kent's mouth goes dry as his eyes follow the motion involuntarily. He's finding it increasingly difficult to keep up his facade. He tries to come up with a witty comeback, but he's drawing a blank, his mind now occupied with the image of... well, certain things. "I... uhm..." he stutters, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy in his mouth.

"Clark, you're making it a tad obvious." You tease, brushing your finger against his jaw gently.

Kent's breath hitches as you brush your finger along his jaw, the touch sending shivers down his spine. He tries to pull himself together, but your proximity and the way you're eyeing him like you have him all figured out is making it damn near impossible. 

He swallows again, his mind whirling. "Making what obvious?" he tries to play dumb, despite the fact that he knows exactly what you're talking about.

Sliding your hand down his face, to his neck, then his chest settling over his peck. "I'm not trying to expose your secret you know, just trying to see whats troubling you..." Standing on your tippy toes you whisper into his ear, "I know you're dying to tell me." with that, you take your leave. 

Turning on your heels and exiting the stairs, taking another bite you settle back in at your desk, wondering if he'll admit it to you. Kent is left standing in the stairwell, dumbfounded, his body still tingling from your touch. Your whispered words ring in his ears, and he can't deny that you're absolutely right - he is desperate to tell you. 

For a few minutes, he stands there, trying to collect his jumbled thoughts. Finally, he snaps out of it and straightens his clothes, attempting to regain composure before re-entering the office.

The rest of the day continues on quietly, with the two of you catching each others stares occasionally. The office is dim and empty besides the both of you staring at your screens and exchaing glances. 

The tension between you and Kent is almost palpable. Time seems to move in slow motion as you type lazily and take occasional sips from your coffee. Every few minutes, like clockwork, your eyes dart to his, only to find him stealing a look first. 

The once comfortable silence in the room is now filled with an air of anticipation, like a rubber band about to snap. Finally, you decide you've had enough. You stand up and strut over to Clark, stopping in front of his desk, arms crossed over your chest. 

"Should we chat about earlier?" You lean over his monitor, your head just barely peeking over the screen. 

Kent's heart rate spikes the second you approach his desk. He was hyper-aware of your every move, and now, with you leaning over his monitor, so close he could count the eyelashes on your eyelid, his body feels like it's on fire. 

He tries to school his expression into a calm facade, although he's certain that you can see straight through it. "Yeah," he manages to croak out, his hand gripping the edge of his desk unconsciously. "I think we should."

You slide yourself up to sit on his desk, one leg crossed over the other, your skirt hiking up just enough for him to get a glimpse. He can't help the way his attention is drawn to the newly exposed skin, his breath hitching ever so lightly. 

"So," you begin, the edge of your lips turning up in your signature smirk. "About that secret identity of yours…"

Kent's gaze flickers downwards momentarily, once again taking in the sight of your bare skin above your thigh. He swallows hard, trying to keep his thoughts and desires in check. 

He clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the topic at hand, though the image of your exposed flesh is now seared into his brain. "Uh, right... that," he responds, his voice a bit hoarse. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to maintain some composure, but his body is betraying him, and he knows you can tell.

"Clark, I know that you're Superman. I'm not going to tell *anyone* but if you keep interviewing yourself all the time more people might become suspicious." You give him a reassuring smile, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. 

Kent's eyes widen as you admit it so casually, but deep down, he's not truly surprised. As your hand gently lands on his shoulder, a mix of emotions flows through him - relief, worry, and a touch of admiration for your ability to figure it all out. 

He takes a deep breath, the tension in his body melting away slightly at your reassurance. "How long have you known?" he finally manages to ask, his gaze now fully fixed on you, searching for any hint of deception.

"Just realized it today," you giggle softly, "I've known that something has been up for a while though." 

Clark can't help but crack a small smile at your nonchalant attitude. Here you are, knowing the secret identity of a superhero, and yet, you're still sitting on his desk, legs crossed, completely unfazed. 

He shakes his head, both amused and a little bewildered. "Of course you did," he says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You're too damn observant for your own good, you know that?"

"I do know that," You inch closer to the edge of the desk, slipping your feet out of your heels. "I'm very observant, Clark, and *you're* not very good at keeping secrets." Your words are both teasing and laced with hidden meaning.

He tries to maintain a calm expression, but your proximity and the way you're looking at him make it damn near impossible. Clark can't help but notice how good you look perched on his desk, barefoot and slightly disheveled. 

Your words hit him like a punch to the chest. *He is terrible at keeping secrets*, especially from you. His walls are crumbling, and he's struggling to keep up the facade. He can feel the heat burning in his cheeks, and he knows he's blushing like a fool. "Shut up," he grumbles weakly.

"Aw, don't be like that, big guy. You know you love it when I figure you out." You grin sweetly, legs crossed while leaning back on your palms. He's keenly aware of your every movement, and his brain is now running through a litany of inappropriate scenarios. Inwardly, he scolds himself; this is absolutely not the time.

Kent is caught off guard once more by your sweet, taunting demeanor. He's never quite sure how to respond when you get like this, flirty, teasing, confident. 

He can't stop his gaze from roaming over your form, taking in the arch of your back, the way your skirt is riding up even further, exposing more of your skin. He lets out a soft, involuntary groan, his mind already wandering to places it shouldn't. 

"Stop it," he huffs, his face now fully red. "This isn't fair, you know that."

"Don't pretend like you don't like this..." you slide your skirt up an inch, spreading your legs ever so slightly as you rest your feet on his knees. Every move you make is intentional. Teasing and calculating. 

Clarks eyes widen involuntarily as you spread your legs, and his breath hitches in his throat. He hates the way his body is betraying him, the way his hands ache to touch every inch of your skin. 

In a last attempt to retain some semblance of control, he grabs your ankles, stopping your movements altogether. "Enough," he manages to say, his voice gruff and strained with desire. "You're being cruel."

"Do you really want me to stop?" You slide your skirt up to your hips, fingers toying with the hem of the fabric.

Kent swallows hard, his throat suddenly impossibly dry. The image of you sitting on his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, is driving him insane. 

He knows he should say yes, he knows he should put an end to this little game of yours before it goes too far, but he can't bring himself to form the words. Instead, he finds himself slowly shaking his head, his gaze fixated on the exposed skin of your thighs.

"Do I need to pleasure myself? In front of you, begging for you?" You slide your foot over his bulge, pressing your toes into the fabric of his slacks. "Or are you going to do it for me?" 

Kent's eyes darken with desire, and a low growl escapes his throat. His grip on your ankle tightens, his fingers trembling slightly. Your words, coupled with the sensual motion of your foot, are pushing him to the edge of his self-control. 

"Y/N," he warns, his voice heavy with arousal. "Don't tempt me."

"Fuck me, Clark." Your reply is short, yet full of need. 

With those three words, and that look in your eyes, his last thread of self-restraint snaps. 

He's on his feet in an instant, his hands on your thighs, roughly pulling you forward. His lips crash into yours with a passion that surprises even him. He kisses you hungrily, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you.

Clark lifts you off the desk, his hands strong yet tender as he sets you on your feet, his lips never leaving yours. The tension in the room is thick with desire, and your breaths come out in ragged pants. 

Both of you are eagerly touching each others bodys, desperate to feel every inch. Reaching into your skirt pocket you pull out a condom, a smirk playing on your lips as you toss it up at him. He catches it in midair, the plastic wrapping crackling in the silence.

You fumble with his belt, fingers swiftly pulling his pants down before reaching for the condom and sliding it on his length. You look up at him, transfixed by the way his gaze devours you. He lifts you again, this time placing you gently onto his desk, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat building between you.

He steps closer, aligning his body with yours, and slowly begins to enter you. You gasp into his mouth, the sensation of him filling you sending waves of pleasure through your body. He moves slowly at first, savoring every inch, slowly sliding into your tightness, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. But all he finds is pure, unbridled passion.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as he starts to pick up the pace. His hips rock into you in a steady rhythm, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel yourself getting closer, the pressure building deep within you, and you know it won't be long now.

With a gentle growl, he lifts you off the desk and carries you to his chair, the need to hold you closer consuming him. He sits down, pulling you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. This new position allows for a deeper connection, and he takes full advantage, his hands gripping your hips as he guides you to ride him.

Your breasts bounce with every movement, and he can't resist cupping them in his hands, fingers massaging the soft skin beneath your shirt. You moan, throwing your head back, and he feels your muscles tighten around him. 

You're close, so very close.

Clark's hands glide up your body, his thumbs brushing over your skin, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. His touch is gentle, yet firm, and it's driving you wild. You rock against him, the friction sending sparks flying through your veins.

He reaches up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing your jawline as he stares into your eyes, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice raw with need.

The words spur you on, and you begin to move faster, grinding down on him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He matches your rhythm, his own breaths coming out as moans of pleasure. You lean in to kiss him again, your tongues dancing together as the tension reaches its peak.

With a final, deep thrust, you come apart in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you like a supernova. He follows shortly after, his own release intense and all-consuming. The two of you cling to each other, panting and sweaty, lost in the aftermath of your passion.

For a moment, the world outside the office fades away, and it's just the two of you, wrapped up in the intimate embrace, hearts pounding in unison.

As your breathing slowly returns to normal, you lean your forehead against his, your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of his still-hard member inside you. "Clark," you murmur, the word a mix of satisfaction and awe.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, his own heart racing. "Y/N," he whispers back, his voice a mix of love and wonder.

Clark's hands trace patterns on your back, soothing and gentle, as you both try to come to terms with what's happened. You've crossed a line, one that you can never uncross, and yet, neither of you seems to mind.

The air hangs heavy with the weight of what the two of you have just experienced. Bodies still intertwined, breaths mingling, minds trying to process the incredible intensity of the moment.

Clark's hands are still roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your hips, the arch of your back, as if he's trying to imprint every inch of you into his memory. 

His forehead still pressed against yours, eyes closed, he speaks again, his voice soft, almost reverential. "That... that was..." he stumbles for the right words.

"Good, so fucking good," you mumble, still breathless. Slowly, you move from his lap, allowing him to clean himself up as you slide your clothes back on. "Should we grab some dinner?" 

Clark, still slightly dazed, nods in agreement as he straightens up his clothes. He can't help but steal glances at you as you nonchalantly smooth out your skirt, as if the two of you didn't just have an earth-shattering moment.

"That sounds good," he finally manages to say, his voice a little gravelly. He runs a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, attempting to compose himself. "Sushi?"

“Perfect.” you nod in agreement, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips, arms wrapping around his neck.

[cowboybeepboop]

Delicate

"I never knew such beauty existed in the world,"

Pairing: Kili Durin x fem! Reader 

Genre: smut, romantic

Word count: 2.8k 

a/n: This is a sweet and short one 😋 a quickie 

It is a dark night as Kili is sitting by the fire, surrounded by the rest of the dwarves who are asleep. While he is just looking into the flames, trying his best to keep his guard up and not fall asleep. Suddenly, he hears a suspicious motion in the bushes. He grabs his axe tight, slowly approaching.

“Who is it?” he whispers in an angry tone. “Reveal yourself!”

You step out from behind a tree, eyes narrowed at the dwarf in front of you. “Don’t be too loud, you will awaken your friends.”

He holds his axe up in a defensive position, ready to swing if necessary. “And who are you to tell me what to do, elf?” 

He looks at you in disbelief and suspicion. His eyes widen as he suddenly remembers his manners. “And what are you even doing here?”

“Calm yourself, I pose no threat to you.” You cautiously move closer to him, hands up to show him your lack of weapons. “Prince Kili, my name is Y/N.” 

He hesitantly lowers his axe but remains on guard. Looking you up and down, his grip on the handle remains tight. “What are your intentions here, then?”

He asks, his voice laced with suspicion and distrust. He can’t help but be wary of you, as elves and dwarves typically do not get along.

“My Lord Elrond sent me to keep an eye on you all.” You cross your arms under your chest, stepping closer. “I am only here to keep watch, you’re falling asleep so I figured I should take over for you.”

“Keep watch?” Kili laughs bitterly. “As if I believe that. You probably came here to gather information for your elven king.” 

He glances over at his sleeping comrades, making sure they’re still asleep. “I don’t need an elf spying on me while I rest.”

You take a seat next to him, crossing one leg over the other. “Just rest dwarf. I will not spy on you.”

He grumbles as you take a seat beside him. He still doesn’t trust you, but he’s too tired to be constantly on high alert. 

He leans back against a tree, keeping his axe close, and closes his eyes. “You better not try anything funny, elf.”

“Rest.” You command him, eyes on the horizon as you watch for any threats. Kili begins to drift to sleep, his head falling onto your shoulder.

"Mmm..." he mumbles, too tired to protest as his head hits your shoulder. 

He struggles to keep awake, but his exhaustion wins. He drifts off into a deep sleep, his breathing slow and steady.

He mutters something incoherent as he leans more into your shoulder, shifting closer in his sleep. 

Despite your tense body, Kili keeps sleeping peacefully against you, his warm breath against your neck.

He moves again, his head now resting fully on your lap. He makes a comfortable noise as he nuzzles against you in his sleep.

His hair brushes against your leg as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your waist.

You reach down, brushing your fingers through his hair gently. As you’ve followed the company on their journey, Kili has caught your attention, and your affection, perhaps even your heart.

He sighs contentedly as you run your fingers through his hair, his body relaxing under your touch. 

His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly, pulling himself closer to you. Even in his sleep, he seems to enjoy your comfort.

“You’re quite sleepy aren’t you..” you murmur, head falling back against the tree as you trail your fingers down his back.

The feeling of your fingers tracing down his back sends a shiver down his spine, causing him to stir slightly in his sleep.

He looks up at you, his eyes hazy from grogginess. “Wh-What’s going on?” he mumbles, still half asleep.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep Prince.” You hush him, your hand going from his hair to his lips.

He blinks a few more times, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He realizes he's lying on your lap, and that your hand is now on his lips. His cheeks flush a slight shade of red.  

"W-What are you doing?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep. A small rabbit jumps out of the bush, capturing both of your attention. He watches the rabbit hop away, his thoughts distracted for a moment. 

He looks back up at you, his hand still resting on your hip. He realizes the situation he's in, his head resting in your lap and your hand still on his lips.

His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as he tries to sit up, suddenly feeling self-conscious about being so close to you.

"I-I'm sorry," he stutters, trying to gather his thoughts.

You push his head back down into your lap gently, “Don’t worry, you must be well rested so just go back to sleep.”

He tries to protest, his cheeks flushing even more with embarrassment. "But I-I can't just lie here in your lap like this..." he stutters, trying to push himself up again.

“You won’t be caught cuddling with an elf.” You reply, fingers tangling in his hair once again. “They are all asleep.”

His protests die on his lips as he feels your fingers in his hair once again. The soothing sensation causes him to relax slightly, his body losing some of its tension.

"But still...it's not right..." he mutters, his voice weakening as he leans into your touch.

“Not right?” You question, eyes scanning his features.

He shifts slightly in your lap, avoiding your gaze.

"F-For a prince of dwarves to... to lie in the lap of an elf..." he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He glances up at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“So your status..” you begin, amusement in your tone. “Because you’re a Prince I should not lay my hands upon you?”

He looks up at you, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. "I-I...well, yes..." he stammers. 

He shifts again in your lap, his body betraying his own words as he unconsciously leans into your touch. "...we dwarves have our own rules and traditions you know," he mutters defensively.

“I see,” you grin. “So why are you still holding on to me, Prince?”

He freezes as your words sink in, his eyes widening in realization. 

He looks down, seeing that his hand is still resting on your hip. He quickly considers pulling it away, but his grip is firm, and he can't seem to let go.

"I-I..." he stutters, trying and failing to find an excuse. "I...I don't know..."

His cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red as he avoids your gaze, embarrassed by his own actions.

“You are quite adorable,” You brush your thumb over his cheek, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “For a dwarf of course.” He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since waking up. 

He can't help but notice how stunning you look, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. "Dwarves are not adorable. We are fearsome warriors. Feared across the land."

You lean forward, your gaze locked on his. “I couldn’t possibly fear you, not when you’re here in my lap like this.” Your eyes fall to his plush lips, tongue flicking out to wet your own lips.

His heart races in his chest as you lean closer to him, your gaze fixed on his lips. He can feel your breath against his face, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"You...you should fear me," he protests weakly. "I'm a dwarf and a Prince at that..." He can't help but glance at your lips as well, his own tongue darting out to mirror your own actions. 

“Would you prefer I stop?” You breathe out, gulping slightly as you brush your thumb over his lips, wanting him closer.

His breath catches in his throat as your thumb caresses his lips. He can feel his resolve weakening, his body betraying his mind as he leans closer to you.

He shakes his head, his voice a soft whisper. "No...don't stop..." You dip your head, lips finally making contact with his.

He gasps softly, his eyes widening in surprise. But he doesn't pull away, instead melting into the kiss.

He reaches up, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He kisses you back hungrily, craving more.

He quickly shifts his position, straddling your hips as he deepens the kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close against him. 

He kisses you with a passion and intensity he didn't know he possessed, his tongue exploring your mouth as he desperately craves more of you.

You pull back, gasping for air, your face contorted with pleasure. “Kili..”

He looks down at you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to calm his racing heart. 

Hearing you say his name sends a thrill down his spine, and he can't help but smile at the sound of it. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek.

"Say my name again.." he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

A possessive growl escapes his lips as you say his name again, his teeth sinking into your neck just below your ear.

He's drunk from the taste of you, intoxicated by the sound of his own name on your lips.

You let out a shocked moan, feeling his teeth against your sensitive skin. “Kili, right there..” You gasp.

He smirks against your skin, satisfied with your reaction. He plants kisses along your neck, his hands roaming your body, unable to get enough.

He whispers your name between kisses, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want you," he mutters, his words muffled by your skin, "I want you so badly."

“But my prince,” you tease. “Didn’t you say it was improper? A dwarf prince and an elf?” Your fingers trail down his abs.

He grumbles in protest, his body responding to your touch. He shivers as your fingers trail down his abs, his heart racing.

"Shut up, elf," he mutters, his voice betraying his true feelings. "You're just too damn alluring. How could I resist you.."

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours again. He eagerly kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth as his body presses against yours. His hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

He mutters your name between kisses, his body reacting to your touch. "You're driving me insane," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want more."

He lifts you effortlessly, placing you on his lap as he continues to assault your neck with kisses. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve and contour, desperate to feel as much of you as possible.

"You're so soft.." he mutters, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "So damn soft."

“My prince… I need you.” You brush your fingers against his back. Your hips grind on his, causing soft gasps to leave your mouth. 

He groans as you grind against him, his body responding instantly to your movements. He grips your hips, holding you steady as he presses his own hips against yours.

"You drive me wild, you know that?" he mutters, his face buried in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin. “You’re so damn perfect."

Kili’s grip tightens around you, his breathing erratic and shallow as your bodies move in sync with each other. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours with a fiery intensity. 

"I never knew...an elf could make me feel like this," he admits his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your chest. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. "You're more than I could have ever imagined, Y/N."

You lean in, capturing his words with a kiss that's equally as passionate as the ones before. As your tongues dance together, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the beating of your hearts.

Your hands roam over his broad shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his clothes. You pull away from the kiss, panting for air. "And you, Kili, are more than I could have ever hoped for."

He smiles, his cheeks flushed with emotion. "Is that so?" He leans in, whispering in your ear. "Then perhaps we should find a more... private place to continue this discussion?" His hand slides down your back, resting at the base of your spine.

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The air is thick with anticipation as you both stand, Kili's arms around your waist, supporting you as you navigate the sleeping forms of his companions. 

The stars above twinkle down at you, seemingly aware of the secret unfolding beneath their gaze.

You lead him to a secluded spot, your heart racing in your chest. The night is cool, but the heat between the two of you is enough to keep you warm as you lay down together, the soft grass cushioning your bodies.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of passion and trepidation. "I've never felt this way before," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion.

You stroke his cheek, reassuring him. "Neither have I."

With that, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours once again, sealing the bond that fate has woven between you. The whispers of the night envelop you as you explore each other, breaking down the barriers of prejudice and tradition that once stood firm between your kind.

Kili's hands tremble as they glide over your hips, gently lifting you to help in the process. He kisses along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he works to remove any barriers between you. 

His eyes never leave yours, he asks for permission with every touch, ensuring you're as eager as he is.

Once your legs are bare, he traces the soft skin of your inner thighs with his calloused fingertips, sending waves of desire through your body. His gaze is intense, filled with a passion that's been kindled in the fire of your shared moments.

With your consent, he shifts his weight, aligning his body with yours, the heat of his arousal evident. He swiftly slides out of his own pants, he kisses you deeply, his hand moving between your legs to touch you intimately. You gasp into the kiss, arching your back at the contact.

He whispers reassurances, his thumb circling your sensitive spot as he prepares to claim you in the most primal of ways. The tension builds as he slowly, carefully, pushes into you, feeling every inch of resistance give way to his insistence.

The moment he's fully inside, he stills, giving you time to adjust to his size. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing to feel all of him. The world around you fades into obscurity, leaving only the sound of your mingled breaths and the rhythm of your hearts.

As he starts to move, the only word that passes between your lips is his name, a silent mantra of desire and need. The stars above seem to pulse with every stroke, echoing the passion that burns between you.

The dance of your bodies becomes a symphony of whispers and gasps, each movement a note that crescendos into a crescendo of pleasure.

Kili's eyes widen with surprise and satisfaction as he feels your muscles tighten around him, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure overwhelms you. His own climax is close, driven by the intense connection and the sight of your passion. 

He increases his pace, his own need building as he whispers your name in your ear, his movements becoming more urgent.

The world around you shatters into a million sparks of light as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. Kili's own release follows swiftly, his hips stuttering as he fills you completely, his face contorted in a silent shout of pleasure.

You cling to him, your breathing ragged and your heart hammering in your chest. He collapses against you, his weight a comfort as the aftershocks of your shared ecstasy roll through your bodies.

For a long moment, you both remain still, your hearts beating in sync as you catch your breath. Then, with a gentle smile, Kili brushes the hair from your face, his eyes filled with affection. "I never knew such beauty existed in the world," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You return the smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that's more than just the afterglow of passion. "Neither did I, my prince," you whisper back, your eyes shining with happiness.

[cowboybeepboop]

Red

"Now, now, darlin', We're not done just yet.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.7k 

Summary: You’re playing football with the team and Jake gets a little worked up, he goes to cool off but you have plans of your own. 

a/n: Glen Powell is always on my mind guys 😣 i can't escape him

No one on this team is more of a flirt than Jake Seresin, he’s been all over you since the day he laid eyes on you. It’s not that you don’t enjoy the attention but you know better than to give into him. Although your fight is starting to waver. He might be a flirt, a real player, but damn is he perfect.

He is, to say the least, an attractive sight—and that was what annoyed you the most, his perfect smile, the way he'd smile your way, making your heart skip a beat, his cocky demeanor, and the way he looked in his flight suit. 

The beach football game was in full swing, the sun was shining and the team was split into two. You wore a red bikini top and some shorts, and you stood out from the rest of the men as one of the two women in the group.

Hangman was having a really hard time focusing on the game, his eyes constantly traveling to you. The sight of you in your red bikini top, and shorts, your legs on full display. He constantly found himself getting distracted by your body, especially the way your curves looked in the clothing. He was struggling to keep his cool while playing the game but he still was playing decently, however, he kept sneaking glances at you in your lovely attire.

As you moved to block the pass, you noticed Jake was distracted, very much distracted. His eyes were practically glued to your body, it was obvious that he was struggling to focus on the game, the way your body looked in your outfit was driving him insane, he was finding it hard to resist the urge to just stop playing and just look at you instead.

“Are you distracted Hangman?” you quip with a slight smirk. 

Hangman's eyes snapped up from your body and he quickly regained his composure. "Distracted? Me? Never" he replied with a cocky smile, trying to act unaffected. His eyes still lingered on your body for a moment before he quickly looked away.

“Oh really?” you brush your hand against his hip, “You look like you’re imagining me without my top.” Hangman's breath hitched when you brushed your hand against his hip, a shiver running down his spine at your touch. And as you walk away, giving him a suggestive glance over your shoulder, he couldn't help but let out a low, quiet groan.

"God damn you" he muttered to himself as he watched you walk away, his mind replaying your words over and over, the image of you without your top on now burned in his mind. 

Hangman's eyes were fixated on your chest, watching every move as you jumped up, the way your breasts bounced and the way your body moved. He was trying so hard to focus on the game, to ignore the way you were distracting him, but the more he tried, the more his thoughts became filled with only you.

He shifted uncomfortably in his shorts, feeling them becoming tighter and more restricted as his mind filled with thoughts of you, the way you looked in your bikini top. 

As the game ended and your team won, you turned to look at Jake, only to find him looking incredibly distracted. It was obvious that he had been struggling to focus on the game in the last few minutes, his eyes had been constantly on you, the way you moved, the way you looked in your bikini.

"You okay over there, Hangman?" you ask with a knowing smirk, enjoying the effect you were having on him. Jake's eyes snapped up to meet yours, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a cocky smile, though his voice was slightly strained. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to act nonchalant, but he couldn't help the way his eyes drifted down to your body again, taking in your appearance.

As the team sits on the beach with their beers, enjoying the sunset, you notice Jake stealing glances at you, his eyes wandering to your body every now and then. You smirk to yourself, knowing exactly what he's looking at.

And when you catch his gaze, you pull your hair back, revealing your collarbone to him, a subtle yet deliberate tease. Hangman's eyes widen slightly, his gaze immediately drawn to the exposed skin, his mouth going dry at the sight.

Jake mumbles something about going for a swim, adjusting his shorts as he walks towards the water. You catch a glimpse of the subtle movement, noticing the way he's trying to hide the aching bulge.

As he enters the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, hoping the cool water will help calm his arousal. But looking around, he catches sight of you sitting on the beach. 

You quickly slip out of your shorts, aware that Jake's gaze was fixed on you. You could feel his eyes on you, watching every move you made. The thought of him watching you made you feel a little bit daring.

As you stepped towards the water, you made sure to move slowly, giving him the full view of your body in your bikini, the evening's light emphasizing your curves and making you shimmer.

“Thought I would join you.” As you stepped into the water, a shiver ran down your spine from the coldness, immediately bringing a sense of goosebumps on your skin. But still, you continued to approach him, your eyes full of mischief.

Jake's eyes followed your every step, his gaze tracing the contour of your body, the way your bikini top moved as you adjusted it, his breaths becoming more shallow as you neared him.

“You seem really worked up there, Seresin.” you tease, stopping in front of him. 

Jake took a shuddering breath, trying to keep his cool as he replied with a smirk. "Worked up, honey? Never."

But his response was strained, his voice hoarse as he struggled to maintain his composure with you standing so close. His eyes were raking over your body once more, taking in the sight of you in your bikini.

“So then, you wouldn’t mind if I swam topless?” you raise an eyebrow, watching his reaction. Jake's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face. 

He tried to keep his cool but couldn't help the way his mouth went dry at the thought of you with no top on. "I... uh... I'd actually prefer if you did." he managed to say, his voice gruff and his eyes fixated on you, hungry and full of lust.

“Tsk, of course you would.” you turn your back to him, “Then why don't you do the honor and untie me.” Jake swallowed hard, his eyes following you as you turned around, showing him your back and the strap of your bikini top. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

"You really don't need to ask twice," he said, his voice low and hoarse. He took a step forward, his hands moving to the strap on your back, his fingers slightly shaking from excitement and anticipation.

He slowly untied the knot, his eyes never leaving your body, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing second. Jake's eyes were transfixed as the strings dangle at your side, his hand moving closer to your bare skin, yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his. 

But he held back, waiting, waiting to see if you would pull it from around your neck, anticipating the moment when he could finally let himself touch you. "God damn.." he breathed out, his eyes raking over your bare back, his hands twitching by his sides, holding onto the last bit of self-control he had.

“You’re holding back a lot better than I anticipated.” you tease, turning to face him. Jake's breath hitched at your touch, the feel of your finger gently pressing under his chin to make him meet your gaze sent a bolt of electricity through him. 

He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but the feeling of your hand on his skin and the sight of your bare chest in front of him was driving him insane. He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours, his voice hoarse as he replied "You have no idea how much I'm holding back, darlin'.."

Your hand trails down his chest, fingers tracing his muscles as you move closer. “I don't want you to hold back Jake.” his eyes darkened with desire as you stepped closer, your bodies almost touching.

He took a ragged breath as your words registered in his mind, "You... you don't?" he managed to breathe out, his voice low and gruff, his body tensing under your touch. You shake your head, a small smirk still painted on your lips. You tuck your bikini top in the waistband of your bottoms, making sure not to lose them. 

“I’ve been teasing you for a reason. Don’t you know how impractical it is to play football in a skimpy bikini?” you brush past him, treading further into the water, beckoning for him to come closer. 

"You have been a tease.. a very good one," he said, his voice low and hoarse with lust. He followed you into the water, his steps becoming more eager as you beckoned him closer, his body aching to touch you.

You stop moving once the water covers your chest, turning to face him once again. “And you’ve been very good at keeping your hands to yourself.” 

Jake couldn't take his eyes off you, watching as the water covered your chest, making your skin glisten in the soft lighting. Your words snapped him out of his trance, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your skin under his palms.

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, gently tracing your collarbone with his fingers, the contact sending a shiver down his spine. "I've been trying real hard, but you're making it damn near impossible" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

You shiver at his touch, hands moving to his hips as you grip him softly. “Then stop resisting your urges, Jake.” 

Jake's breath hitched as your hands move to his hips, gripping him softly, the contact sending a bolt of electricity through him. Your words echoed in his mind, the small permission giving him the last push he needed.

"You really want me to stop holding back, darling?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you, his hands beginning to move, tracing the curves of your body.

“I want you to fuck me.” your fingers dig into his skin as you kiss his chest. “Right here, in the water.” you gaze up at him, eyes full of desire. Jake's breath caught in his throat as your words hit him, a sharp intake of air as the desire in your eyes and your kiss on his chest made his body tense with need.

"You... you're killing me, woman.." he breathed out, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your body closer to him. "Right here, huh? In the water?" he asked, his voice rough with lust as he looked down at you.

“Mhm..” you wrap your arms around his neck, your hardened nipples pressing into his warm chest. “Right here, out in the open.” Jake groaned as your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressed firmly against his, your nipples hardening against his chest. The feeling sent a shiver of desire through him, his control slipping further and further.

He grabbed your hips, holding you tightly against him, his voice low and gruff as he replied, "You're wicked, darlin'..." he captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, his body responding to your presence, his need for you growing.

Jake's hands grasped your thighs firmly, gently guiding them to wrap around his waist as the water reached your hips. His strong arms supported your weight effortlessly as he kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth with a passion that mirrored the heat building in your core. 

His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping the strands as he deepened the kiss, his desire for you unmistakable. The taste of saltwater mingled with the sweetness of your lips, adding a wild, natural flavor to the intensity of the moment. Your legs tightened around him, your body instinctively drawing closer, craving the connection as the cool water enveloped you both. 

The sensation of his bare chest against your skin, the feel of his cock pressing against you, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore were the only things that existed in your world as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding.

As the kiss grew more heated, Jake's hands slid down to your ass, cupping it firmly as he began to move you both further into the water, the gentle waves now reaching your waist. He knew everyone was around, but the lust in your eyes and the feel of your body against his was too much to resist. 

The water swirled around you, obscuring the lower portions of your bodies as he began to grind up into you, his hardened length pressing against the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasped into his mouth as the sensation shot through you, your core already soaked and eager for more. 

The coolness of the ocean water didn't dampen the fire between you; if anything, it made the heat of your bodies stand out even more, a stark contrast to the surrounding elements. The way he held you, the way his body moved against yours, it was like he was claiming you right here and now, and you couldn't get enough of it. 

Your nails dug into his back, urging him closer, the friction between you growing more intense with each passing second. The world around you melted away as your focus narrowed to the two of you, the passion in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Jake broke the kiss for a moment, his breaths heavy and eyes filled with a primal hunger. He slid his hands down to the waistband of his swim trunks and with a quick motion, slipped them down, his erection springing free and poking into your clothed pussy. He groaned at the sensation, the fabric of your bikini bottom the only barrier between you two. 

His hand slid between your thighs and with a gentle yet firm tug, he slid the fabric aside, exposing your bare pussy to the cool ocean water and his eager length. He leaned back in, capturing your mouth in another fiery kiss as he positioned himself, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. 

You moaned into his mouth, the anticipation building, your legs tightening around his waist as you silently begged for him to fill you. Jake's hands gripped your ass tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed himself closer, the water rushing in to fill the space between your bodies. 

The pressure was unbearable, the need for him to be inside you growing with each pulse of your heart. And with one final, desperate kiss, he thrust into you, the feel of your warmness enveloping him making him groan with pleasure.

With a groan of pure pleasure, Jake began to slowly guide your hips on him, his powerful thighs flexing as he thrust up to meet your movements. Each stroke was measured, deliberate, as he filled you completely, the friction of your bodies moving together in the cool water sending waves of heat through your core. 

His kisses trailed down from your mouth to your neck, along your collarbone, and to the tops of your breasts, leaving a trail of wetness and desire in their wake. His teeth nipped at your sensitive skin, eliciting gasps and soft moans that only served to spur him on. His hands roamed over your bare back, tracing the lines of your spine as he felt your muscles tighten and release with each movement. 

The sound of your moans and the feel of your tight pussy gripping him was driving him wild. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, as his hips met yours in a steady, passionate rhythm. The water around you grew warmer, churned by your vigorous movements and the heat of your passion. 

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body responding to his touch as if it had been made for this moment. His eyes locked on yours, watching the ecstasy build within you, feeling the tension coil tighter with every gasp for breath. His strokes grew more urgent, his kisses more demanding, as he claimed every inch of you, leaving no part of your body untouched by his desire.

Jake's body tensed as his own release grew imminent, his hips bucking up into yours with a desperation that mirrored the need in your eyes. He could feel your warm breath on his shoulder as you buried your face into his neck, the soft moans escaping your lips music to his ears. Each stroke grew more demanding, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy with a slickness that only added to the urgency of the moment. 

The water around you swirled with your movements, the waves lapping at your bodies as the intensity grew. His fingers dug into your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you harder, faster, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps. He knew you were close, could feel the tremors in your legs and the way your nails dug into his skin. His movements grew erratic, his need for release overpowering his control. 

The sound of your moans grew louder, yet not loud enough to reach the shore, your body tightening around him as you reached the peak of pleasure. With one final, deep thrust, Jake let go, his body shuddering as he filled you with his warmth, the feeling of your orgasm milking him dry. 

You clung to him, your breaths mingling as the waves of pleasure washed over both of you, leaving you both gasping for air and weak in the knees. The world around you ceased to exist as you both rode the waves of your climax, lost in the moment of pure, unbridled passion.

His face was buried in your hair, his breath hot on your neck as his chest heaved with exertion. He was silent for a moment, the only sounds the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant chatter of the others on the beach.

Finally, he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze roaming over your face as if he was seeing you for the first time. You cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. 

He watched as your legs unwrapped from his waist, a pang of emptiness filling him as he felt you move away. Jake wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines and curves as if to memorize every inch of you. 

You press a soft kiss to his lips, one much less intense than your last few. Jake responded to the softer kiss with equal tenderness, his lips molding gently against yours. The intensity of the moment had subsided, replaced by a quieter, more intimate connection. 

He savored the feel of your mouth on his, the taste of your lips, the way your bodies fit seamlessly together. His hands held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entry to deepen the connection further.

“Jake,” you murmur his name while pulling back, one hand going to retrieve your bikini top. “Can you tie this back on?” You hand him the small piece of fabric. 

Jake's eyes flutter open as you murmur his name, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He watches as you hand him your bikini top, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before he takes it.

"Of course, darlin'" he replies, his voice still hoarse from the previous moments.

He stands in the water, holding the bikini top in his hands, his gaze lingering on your bare chest for a moment longer before he turns his attention to the task at hand. The gentleness of his touch sends a shiver down your back as you lean into his body. 

Jake's fingers move deftly as he ties the bikini top on your back, his hands brushing against your skin as he works. He can feel your body shiver under his touch, the reaction making his heart thump a little faster.

As he finishes tying the final knot, he lets his hands drift to your waist, holding you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Done, darlin'"

“Mm, thank you.” You pat his chest as you pull away from him, closing your eyes before you plunge into the cold saltwater. 

As soon as you ducked into the cold water, Jake's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back up to him. He pulled you tight against his chest, relishing the feel of your body pressed against his.

"Now, now, darlin'," he drawled, his voice dripping with charm. "We're not done just yet."

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he let his fingers trail up and down your spine. "Can't have you floating away on me just yet."

[cowboybeepboop]

Forever and Always

"That's it," he husks, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Good girl."

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: After an argument, there’s only one way to make it up.

a/n: This is a short one, but hopefully it’s good 🙏 Let me know if you have any requests or send me a message if there’s anything you’d like to see! 

The car ride was tense and silent after you got into an argument outside the restaurant after your date. You stared out the window, your breath forming a foggy cloud on the glass as you gaze out into the night. 

He gripped the wheel tightly, frustration etched on his face, the air was thick with silence. Every now and then his gaze would steal glances at you, the tightness in his jaw belying the emotions he was trying to keep in check. 

The car rolled on, the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road. He wanted to say something, *anything*, to break the uncomfortable silence, but his pride and anger would not let him. It was a constant battle in his mind, between apologies and stubbornness.

You could feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of your face, but you refuse to look at him. You could sense the anger and frustration radiating off of him, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being the first to apologize.

He gritted his teeth as you continued to ignore him. He couldn't stand the silence, it was driving him crazy. His fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn't. 

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. With a gruff huff, he spoke up, his voice edged with irritation. "Are you really going to give me the silent treatment all the way home?"

Staying stubborn, you continue to refuse to acknowledge him. At this point it’s purely because *he* should apologize if he wants to fix things. 

He couldn't help but scoff at your continued silence. He knew you, he knew your stubbornness, and he also knew that it would take a lot for you to cave in first. 

When his hand landed on your thigh, his touch was firm, his fingers gently kneading into your skin through the fabric of your dress. He let out another huff, this one more frustrated than the last. "Come on, you can't just ignore me forever."

“Not forever, but for now.” You mutter while pushing his hand off your thigh, shooting a glare his way.

He rolled his eyes as you pushed his hand away, that damn stubborn look on your face making him want to both shake you *and* kiss you. He returned your glare, his own filled with equal parts irritation and desire.

When he placed his hand back on your thigh, he squeezed it a little harder this time, his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. 

You reach for his hand again before he stops you. He catches your hand before you can push him away again, his grip firm yet gentle. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand captive in his.

He lets out another sigh, a mixture of frustration and resignation in his voice. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

He brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of your hand. Your body softens at his affection, feeling the anger leaving your body. 

“You’re just as stubborn,” you huff out as you look over at his perfect face, his annoyingly perfect side profile, his strong jaw, he’s so frustratingly perfect. 

He chuckled at your response, a low rumble deep in his chest. "Damn right I am."

His eyes flicked over to you, his gaze roaming over your features, taking in your perfect face, your pouty lips, the way your hair frames your face. He's equally as frustrated but also impossibly drawn to you. 

"But I'm not the one giving you the silent treatment." He brought your hand up to his lips again, peppering tender kisses across your knuckles.

“That’s only because you hate the quiet.” You sigh out as your gaze wanders back out the window.

He chuckles again, but it's a softer, more affectionate sound this time. He knows you're right - he does hate the quiet, especially when it comes between you two.

He keeps your hand in his, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. He's quiet for a moment, then speaks again, his voice much quieter than before.

"I'd rather hear you yelling at me than have you ignore me, you know." You turn back to him with a soft smile. 

“You love the sound of my voice that much?” He returns your smile, his gaze softens with fondness.

"You have no idea." He replies, his voice low and earnest. "Your voice is like music to me. The sound of your laugh, the way you say my name, even when you're yelling at me. I can't get enough of it."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb still tracing its slow circles on your skin. You lean over to press a kiss to his jawline using your free hand to slide down his chest.

He lets out a low, content moan as you press your lips to his jawline. He turns his head to the side slightly, giving you better access.

At the same time, your hand trailing down his chest makes his breath catch in his throat. He's never been able to resist your touch, and the proximity you've just created is making him ache for more.

"Oh, you're gonna play dirty, huh?" He murmurs, his voice a little huskier than usual.

“Anything to make you apologize first,” you whisper against his skin, trailing soft kisses down his jaw.

His hand tightens its grip on yours as you trail kisses down his jaw, each one igniting a fire within him. He lets out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

"You're cheating," he mutters through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice steady. "But I have to admit, it's working."

He shivers slightly as your touch and your lips explore his neck, his resolve quickly crumbling. 

“I’m cheating? I thought it was just.. using my assets.” You murmur into his ear before settling back in your seat. 

He lets out a low growl, his frustration from earlier now mixed with a heady dose of desire. You playing the seductive card is not playing fair, and you know it.

He turns to look at you, his gaze darkened by lust and the remnants of annoyance. "You're going to pay for that," he mutters, his voice thick with gravel.

With a hard swallow, he tries to focus on the road again, but his mind is now overrun with thoughts of what he wants to do to you when you get home.

“Bring it on then,” you smirk as you let go of his hand, trailing your fingers up his buff arm. 

His breathing becomes laboured as your fingers dance over his arm, sending a wave of heat through his body. 

His grip tightens on the wheel again, his knuckles turning white. He's quickly running out of patience. The combination of you touching him and being so close to your apartment is driving him crazy.

As he pulls the car into the parking lot, the tension in the cabin is undeniable, a mixture of irritation, desire, and anticipation.

You pull his face toward your own, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. The moment your lips crash against his, he practically melts. The tension and resistance he'd been holding onto all night crumbles beneath the force of your kiss.

He responds greedily, his hand gripping the back of your head, tangling in your hair. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring and possessing with a need that was purely primal.

He breaks the kiss to gasp for air, his breathing ragged and labored. "We need to get inside." He groans, his voice husky and filled with need.

You smile against his lips as you press another soft kiss to his. He lets out another low moan, the sound a mix of desire and frustration.

"Tease," he mutters through gritted teeth before all but scooping you out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him. He holds you tightly against him as he makes his way to the apartment, his mind a wild storm of thoughts and emotions. 

The moment you step through the door, he pins you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body. His knee slips between your thighs causing you to moan quietly. Your own hands wander his body as you pull him closer.

He groans against your neck, the sounds you're making driving him wild. His knee applies just the right amount of pressure between your thighs, causing your moans to grow louder.

His hands travel over your curves, gripping and squeezing, desperately trying to get closer to you. His lips assault your neck, leaving a trail of scorching hot kisses. "Damn it," he growls, "the things you do to me."

“Mm more…” you moan out, “I need more.” Your hips grind against his knee as you try to get more friction.

He growls at the feel of your hips grinding against him. The sound of your moan sends a shiver down his spine, a low, primal response rising within him.

His hands grip your hips, pressing you harder against him, his knee applying even more pressure between your legs. "You want more, baby? I'll give you more, but you gotta say please."

“Please Ty, please.” Your moans become more desperate as he continues to tease you. The sound of you moaning urgently, pleading for more, unleashes something primal within him. Your use of his nickname, coupled with the desperation in your voice, snaps the last bit of self-restraint he has left.

His knee applies more and more pressure, his large hands guiding your hips to grind against him at the perfect angle. "That's it," he husks, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Good girl."

With a snarl of need, Tyler abruptly lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. The intensity in his eyes is almost scary, but you know it's all for you, all because of you. 

The room spins as he sets you down on the bed, his mouth claiming yours again in a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless and wanting. His hands are everywhere, unbuttoning your dress, slipping it off your shoulders, exposing your bare skin to the cool air and his hot touch. 

The argument seems a distant memory as passion takes over, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the thundering of your hearts in the quiet apartment. 

Tyler's hands continue to roam, his touch feverish and hungry. He kisses you deeply, his tongue dueling with yours as the last of your dress slides to the floor. Your own hands are equally busy, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. 

As the fabric falls away, revealing his chiseled torso, you trace your fingertips over his muscles, feeling his heart pound beneath your touch. The bed dips as he hovers over you, the heat of his body searing yours, setting every nerve ending alight. 

His eyes never leave yours, a silent apology and promise in their depths as he whispers, "I'm sorry," against your lips. And even though it's not the grandiose gesture you were expecting, the sincerity in his voice, in his touch, is all the apology you need. 

The tension of the night unravels into an explosion of need as you kiss him back with all the emotion you've been holding in, your bodies speaking a language that needs no words to convey the love and desire that burns between you.

The intensity of the moment reaches a crescendo as Tyler's hand slides up your bare thigh, gripping it firmly as he kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. You arch into his touch, your breath hitching as his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes dark with passion, and says, "You're mine."

The possessive tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod, your voice a mere whisper. "Yes, I'm yours. All yours." The words hang in the air, a declaration that seems to release the last of the tension from the evening. With a fierce growl, he hooks his fingers under the elastic of your underwear and pulls them down, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze. 

Your legs part willingly for him, and he settles between them, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he kisses a path from your knee to your inner thigh. His hand glides up to cup you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, and you can't help but cry out, your hips jerking up to meet his touch.

He knows exactly how to make you squirm, how to make you beg, and he uses that knowledge to his full advantage, teasing and tormenting until you're on the edge of sanity. And as he brings you closer and closer to the brink, the anger from earlier is replaced by something much more potent - love, desire, and a fierce need to claim you as his own, to erase any doubt from your mind that you are indeed his. 

The world outside the bedroom fades away, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a dance of passion and apology that somehow feels more intimate than any words could ever convey.

The heat between you is palpable as Tyler's thumb continues to rub slow, tantalizing circles over your sensitive spot. Your breaths become shallower, your chest heaving as the tension builds. "Ty, I need..." you breathe out, unable to form coherent sentences. His eyes meet yours, a silent question, and you nod, desperate for release. 

He leans down, his warm breath fanning over your skin before his mouth closes over you, his tongue swirling and flicking, making you cry out with pleasure. The sensation is overwhelming, and you clutch at the bedcovers, your body writhing under his expert touch. 

Each stroke of his tongue sends shockwaves through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. With your orgasm still echoing in the air, Tyler's eyes flicker with something other than anger for the first time since the argument. The raw, primal need in his gaze sends another wave of heat through your body. 

He kisses a path up your stomach, chest, and neck before claiming your mouth again, his tongue delving deep, sharing your taste with you. Your legs fall open wider, inviting him in, and he takes full advantage, sliding his hips against yours. The feel of his hardness pressing against your softness makes you whimper into his mouth. 

The need for more is overwhelming, and you reach down to unbuckle his pants, desperate to feel him inside you. He groans against your lips, his own hands helping to free himself from the confines of his clothing.

With a final tug, his pants fall to the floor, and he's naked before you, his body a sculpted masterpiece of desire and restrained power. The sight of him sends a thrill through you, and you pull him closer, needing to feel all of him against all of you. 

He kisses you deeply as he enters you, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you moaning his name again. The tension of the night shatters into a million pieces as you move together, each stroke a silent apology, each kiss a promise to never let anger come between you again. 

The world outside the bedroom ceases to exist as you lose yourself in the rhythm of your bodies, the argument forgotten in the haze of passion that burns between you. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Tyler's powerful strokes become deeper and more urgent, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the desire play out on your face. 

Your breaths mingle, your bodies slick with sweat, and your fingernails dig into his back as the intensity of your connection grows. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a testament to the passion that has overtaken you both. 

You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to meet his, your own desire a mirror of his. The tension of the evening has transformed into a fiery dance of forgiveness and lust, each of you giving and receiving in a symphony of carnality that speaks louder than any words ever could.

The world outside the bedroom falls away, and in this moment, there's nothing but the two of you, tangled in a web of passion that promises to heal the rift that had briefly threatened to tear you apart. As you reach your peak together, your bodies shuddering with the force of your shared release, you know that no matter what challenges life throws at you, your love is strong enough to conquer them all.

As the waves of pleasure ebb away, Tyler collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into the warm embrace of his arms. Your hearts pound in unison, the rhythm matching the pulse that still echoes between your legs. He kisses your forehead, the tenderness of the gesture a stark contrast to the fiery passion that had just consumed you both. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. 

You look up at him, the love in your eyes clear and unmistakable. "It's okay… I’m sorry too.” you murmur, your voice still a little shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. You stroke his cheek gently, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. "I love you," you say, and the tension in his body relaxes further. 

He kisses you again, this time a soft, lingering kiss that speaks of love and promise. The silence that follows isn't filled with anger or frustration, but rather a comforting warmth that blankets the two of you as you lie tangled in the sheets. 

The argument seems like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his body against yours and the reassurance of your love. Tyler tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might vanish. 

His hand runs through your hair, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheekbone. "I love you too," he whispers back, his voice a quiet rumble. And in that moment, all is right in the world again.

[cowboybeepboop]

Glen Powell Masterlist<3

Since I write so much for Glen Powell I figured I might as well create a masterlist for y'all!

Also my requests are always always open so feel free to send any my way! It can be anything or anyone 😛

Tyler Owens:

Dazed

Wild ride

The chase

Forbidden

javi/ty req

Always been you

Lost in you

hidden relationship req

jealous req

Fling

ride

preg

scarred

Oblivious

Jake "Hangman" Seresin:

Old friends

Masseuse

Addicted

angst req

Heated

Sugar

Desire

Hawaiian Hangout

[cowboybeepboop]

Dazed

“Princess, we really have to sleep now.”

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, romantic, friends to lovers

Word count: 6k

Summary: You share a bed with Tyler while on the road.

Warnings: Slow burn????, miscommunication trope, oral: male and fem receiving, p in v, unprotected sex.

a/n: Hope y'all enjoy <3 My requests are open, as always!

The engine of the battered pickup truck rumbled, a steady rhythm that matched the thump of your heart in your chest. Raindrops danced across the windshield, each a brief sparkle before the wipers swept them away. Tyler Owens, your best friend and the internet's favorite Tornado Wrangler, gripped the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road ahead. The headlights carved a tunnel of light through the dark, storm-soaked night. His profile, silhouetted against the dashboard's glow, was as familiar to you as the back of your own hand.

In the backseat, Boone and Lily were lost in their own world, their voices a low murmur of excitement recounting the day's chase. The electricity of the storms had carried over into their banter, their laughter echoing off the plastic interior. You couldn't help but smile at their boundless energy. They were the yin to your yang, the thrill-seekers to your analytical mind.

The truck's tires crunched over gravel as Tyler steered into the motel parking lot. The neon sign flickered above, casting an eerie glow over the puddles that had formed in the dips of the asphalt. Raindrops tapped a staccato beat on the metal roof as the wind picked up. The motel looked like a tired old warrior that had seen too many battles, but it was home for the night. Tyler put the truck in park and turned off the engine, the sudden silence punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder.

You grabbed your backpack and climbed out, stretching your legs. Your knees popped from the hours spent in the cramped space. Boone and Lily followed, their excitement not dampened by the rain. You all dashed towards the office, the cold air biting at your skin. Inside, the warmth and the smell of stale coffee greeted you. The clerk, a woman with a beehive hairdo, squinted at you over her glasses. She looked like she'd been there since the dawn of time, her expression a mix of boredom and skepticism.

While Tyler checked in, you pulled out your phone, the screen lighting up your face in the dimly lit room. A flurry of notifications fluttered down, a mix of weather updates and messages from your friends and family worrying about your safety. You quickly typed out a reassuring reply to your mom, promising to stay safe and out of the storm's path, despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You felt a pang of guilt for not calling her sooner.

As Tyler approached, a single key dangled from his calloused fingers, catching the light. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged. The tension in your relationship was as palpable as the storm outside. He smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging upward, and you couldn't help but feel a jolt of attraction.

"Looks like we're bunking together," he said, his voice low and gruff. "They only had one room left." Tyler's smirk widened as he saw the mixture of emotions flash across your face.

The close quarters of a motel room for the night were bound to create a test of boundaries and emotions. "Don't worry," he added, a hint of genuine reassurance in his voice, "I can always sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable." Although the offer was sincere, a part of him hoped you'd say no.

“Are you sure you won't mind sleeping on the floor?” you were secretly grateful that he suggested it, knowing you wouldn't be able to sleep if he was in the same bed as you. You walk toward the stairs, heading to the room with Tyler hot on your heels.

Tyler chuckled under his breath at your concern. Of course, he didn't want to sleep on the floor, but he could tell you were relieved by the offer. The thought of spending the night so close to you made his heart race, but he'd never admit it.

"Nah, it's no big deal," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant, masking the disappointment as he followed you up the creaking stairs. "I've slept in worse places."

The motel room was small and cramped. The only source of light came from a single, flickering bulb in the ceiling, casting a dim glow across the room. You jump onto the bed, immediately relaxing into the mattress with a sigh.

“Thank you.” you murmur, voice muffled by the bedding. Tyler chuckled again at the sight of you on the bed, your body sinking into the cheap motel mattress. He leaned his tall frame against the closed door, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something deeper.

"No problem." He said, his voice betraying a hint of fondness beneath his typical gruff exterior. "You deserve a comfortable night's sleep after dealing with me and those storms all day."

“Dealing with you is easy,” you turn over on the mattress, stretching out your limbs with a soft moan.

Tyler's eyes traced your form as you shifted on the bed, the soft moan escaping your lips sending a jolt of electricity through him. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the effect your casual movement had on him.

"Easy, huh," he teased, his voice slightly strained. "That's good to hear. Sometimes I think I drive you crazy."

“Nah, not at all.” you sit up, grinning at him. “Don’t tell anyone else but you’re my favorite.” you slip out of your shoes.

Tyler's heart skipped a beat at your words, his rugged exterior faltering momentarily. He quickly regained his composure, a smirk spreading across his handsome face as he crossed his arms across his broad chest.

"Oh, am I your favorite, huh? Sounds like I've grown on you." He teased, leaning a shoulder against the wall, the soft glow from the light highlighting the sharp line of his jaw.

You giggle in response, “Close your eyes, I need to change.” you reach for your bag, pulling a t-shirt out. He groans in protest, but closes them nonetheless. You pull at your wet clothes, slipping out of your shirt and pants.

Tyler's breath hitches in his throat as he peeks through his half-closed eyelid, his gaze raking over your bare back. The air in the room suddenly feels thicker, charged with an undertone of want he can't quite ignore.

He quickly snaps his eyes shut, his heart hammering in his chest. He tries to ignore the images now seared in his mind, the way your skin had appeared in the dim light, the faint curve of your silhouette. You slip your t-shirt on, covering up your damp skin.

“Okay, you're good to open your eyes.” you smile warmly. “We should get your floor bed set up before it gets too much later..” you yawn softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs still bare.

Tyler opens his eyes, the sight of your bare legs sending another jolt through him. He quickly looks away, trying to regain his composure and focus on the task at hand. "Right," he says, his voice gruff. "Let's get that floor set up."

He grabs an extra blanket from the closet, shaking it out as he walks over to the floor next to the bed. He lays it down, his movements slightly stiff and awkwardly, his mind still occupied with the images of your naked back.

You help him put things together, placing the towels on the floor for some padding and placing a pillow down for him. “You’re sure you don't want me to sleep on the floor?”

Tyler waves away your concern, his usual rough demeanor slipping back into place. "No, it's fine," he reassures you, a hint of stubbornness in his voice. "You take the bed. I've slept in worse places."

He sits down on the makeshift bed, testing the thickness with a hand before laying down and folding his arms behind his head. You turn the light off and slip under the covers, “Okay, Goodnight Ty.” you murmur, voice soft as you cuddle into the sheets.

Tyler watches as you settle into the bed, the dim light casting shadows across your face. He swallows hard, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming.

"Good night," he replies gruffly, his voice thick. "Get some sleep."

He shifts on the floor, the makeshift bed feeling even more uncomfortable now that you're so close yet so far. He turns over, facing away from you, the silence in the room deafening.

Almost 30 minutes have gone by with you restless and shivering with the coldness of the room. You toss and turn in the bed, mind focused on Tyler laying on the floor, you sigh while biting down on your lip. You move to the edge of the mattress, looking down at his body.

“Tyler?” you whisper his name, reaching down to touch his arm gently. “Are you still awake?” Tyler jolts slightly at the feel of your touch, his senses on high alert. He'd been trying to sleep, his mind stubbornly refusing to quiet down, especially with you in such close proximity.

He turns over, his gaze meeting yours in the dark. The shadows of his face are sharp and defined, his eyes reflecting the scant light. "Yeah," he replies quietly, his voice gruff. "I'm awake. What's wrong?"

“I can't sleep…” you mutter, “I’m too cold...” Tyler's expression softens at your words, his gruff exterior melting away. He can hear the note of vulnerability in your voice, the quiet admission of discomfort sending a pang through his chest.

"You’re cold?" he asks unnecessarily, already knowing the answer. He hesitates for a moment, his mind battling with his body’s need to be close to you. He sits up with a sigh, pushing the blanket off him. "Move over."

You scoot over, giving him space on the bed. Tyler stands and crawls into the bed next to you, the mattress shifting under his weight. The small bed suddenly feels even tinier with his large frame next to you. He lies on his back, keeping a small gap between the two of you.

"You're always so damn cold," he mutters, wrapping an arm behind his head. "You gonna be able to sleep now?" you move to his side, cuddling into his body as you rest your cheek on his chest.

“Mhm,” your legs press into his as you exhale contentedly. Tyler's eyes snap open as you cuddle into his side, your soft body molding against him. A rush of sensations wash over him, the feeling of your skin against his, the weight of your head on his chest. He stiffens slightly as you press your legs into his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through him.

He tries to steady his breathing, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing. He clears his throat, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room. "You're... comfortable like this?" he asks, his voice slightly strained.

“Are you not?” you pull away slightly, looking up at him with widened eyes. Tyler's heart clenches at your question, the sight of your wide, concerned eyes looking up at him sending a pang through his chest.

"No," he replies gruffly, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. "I'm not uncomfortable...just..." He pauses, trying to find the words. The truth is, he's struggling to cope with the onslaught of emotions swirling inside him.

The feel of your body against him, your soft scent swirling around him...it's too much, and yet it's not enough. "Don't move.." you cuddle back into his side, breasts pressing into him as your hand rests on his abdomen.

Tyler's breath hitches in his throat as you press into him, the feel of your body against his, sending his mind reeling. He curses internally, his body reacting against his will, the heat in his gut flaring hotter.

He tries to concentrate on breathing, to not give in to the desire coursing through him. "Just... stay like this for a while..."

Tyler watches as you fall asleep, a mixture of relief and disappointment washing over him. He had been fighting the entire time to keep his feelings under control, his body yearning for you in a way he hadn't felt before.

Tyler's eyes are fixed on the ceiling, the silence of the room broken only by your soft breathing. He's hyper-aware of every movement you make, his senses on high alert.

As you shift away from him, turning onto your side, his body instinctively follows, moving closer to yours. Without thinking, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back against his body. You unconsciously press back against him, your ass rubbing against his crotch as you cuddle into his warm grasp.

Tyler clenches his jaw, his breath catching in his throat as you press back against him, your firm backside grinding into his groin. Unbidden, images flood his mind, his body reacting eagerly to the contact.

"Jesus," he mutters, his voice gruff and strained. "You're driving me insane..."

He clenches his fist, the feel of your body against his making his mind spin. He tries to shift away, to give himself some distance, but your warmth is drawing him in, making it impossible to think straight.

His words startle you awake, along with the hardness pressing into your body. Your eyes widen as you realize the position the two of you are in, breathing quickening.

Tyler immediately curses himself as he feels you stir in his arms, realizing he had spoken aloud. He can feel your body stiffen against him, the change in your breathing sending a mixture of desire and panic through him.

He quickly pulls away, disentangling himself from you as best he can. He sits up on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Sorry..." he mutters gruffly, his voice thick with tension. "Didn't mean to wake you.." you turn over looking at his bare back. You feel warmness pooling in your stomach as your eyes flick over his twitching muscles.

You reach out, brushing your fingertips over his spine. “Ty?” Tyler's body tenses as he feels your fingertips brushing against his spine. A shiver runs through him at the contact, his body responding eagerly despite his turmoil.

He's hyper-aware of your presence behind him, your touch sending a jolt through his body. The heat radiating off his skin is almost palpable.

"Yeah?" he replies gruffly, his voice hoarse. His shoulders are taut, muscles bunching under your touch.

You sit up, resting on your knees as you come up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Where are you going?” you murmur, cheek pressing into his shoulder.

Tyler's breath catches in his throat as you wrap your arms around his waist, your body pressing into his back. The feel of your skin against his, the gentle warmth of your cheek against his shoulder...it's all he can do not to turn and pull you into his lap.

Tyler's breath hitches as you wrap your arms around his waist, the feel of your body pressed against his back sending a shot of heat straight through him. He's painfully aware of your closeness, your scent filling his senses, your skin warm against his.

He stiffens instinctively, his body struggling to reconcile the overwhelming desire with the need to keep control. "Nowhere," he mutters gruffly, his voice low. "Just need a minute..."

“A minute?” you run a hand down his abs, fingertips brushing over his muscles. “Should I give you some space?” you murmur.

Tyler's breath hitches again, your touch leaving a trail of fire on his skin. He clenches his jaw, every nerve ending in his body screaming for more of your touch.

But he knows he needs to maintain control. He can't give in to the raw desire coursing through him. "Probably.." he manages through gritted teeth, his voice strained. "Need to cool off.."

You reluctantly pull away, laying back on the bed with your back to him once again. Disappointment written on your face as you hug a pillow, cuddling into the sheets.

He turns, watching as you hug a pillow, cuddling into the mattress. He fights the impulse to reach out, to pull you back into his arms. Instead, he clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"Hey..." he murmurs gruffly, his voice softer than before. He reaches out a hand, gently placing it on your shoulder. "Don't... don’t take it the wrong way, okay? It's not you. It's... me."

“It’s okay..” you slip out of bed, heading toward the bathroom. Closing the door you sink down against it, silently cursing yourself for what happened.

Tyler watches as you head into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click. He exhales deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. He can’t stand the thought of you closing yourself off from him, the sight of you pulling away feeling like a punch to the gut.

He stands and walks over to the door, gently knocking on it. “Hey... can I come in?” you stay silent, resting your chin on your knees as you move away from the door. Incase he tries to open it.

Tyler hears your silence, the lack of response causing his heart to sink further. He takes a deep breath, his knuckles rapping on the door again.

"C'mon... you're freakin' me out here," he tries to joke, his voice strained. "I just need to see you, to talk to you. Just for a minute. Please..."

“The door is unlocked…” you murmur, voice nearly a whisper.

Tyler's heart skips a beat as he hears your soft voice, the sound like music to his ears despite the circumstances. He slowly turns the handle, pushing open the door. He steps into the bathroom, his gaze immediately falling on your form huddled on the floor. He drops down beside you, keeping a small space between you.

“There you are,” he says quietly, relief flooding through him at the sight of you. You bite your lip, staying curled up seeking comfort in your own body.

“Can..” you begin, voice cracking. “Can we just pretend nothing happened?” You keep your gaze trained on the floor.

Tyler's stomach drops at the sound of your cracked voice, the words sending a pang through him. He knew you were upset, but he hadn't expected your request.

He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "No," he murmurs, his voice firm yet gentle. "I don't want to pretend, not about this. Not with you."

“Tyler..” you murmur, grabbing his wrist gently as you pull his hand away from you. Tyler's hand tingles at the feel of your hand grasping his wrist, the touch sending a jolt through him. Despite your distance, he can't help but crave your touch.

He clenches his jaw, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "No, listen to me," he says firmly, his eyes glued to yours. "We're not just gonna gloss over this like it's nothing. Not after what happened."

“But nothing happened.” you protest, avoiding his gaze. Tyler's frustration flares at your protest, his eyes narrowing.

"Nothing happened?" he echoes, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? You were in my arms, pressed against me, and nothing happened?" He huffs in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. "Dammit, you’re pissing me off. Stop acting like this doesn't mean something."

“But *you* don’t want it.” you murmur, turning your back to him once again. Tyler's anger immediately extinguishes at your murmured words, guilt seizing him like a vice.

He reaches out, grabbing your shoulder to turn you back towards him, his grip gentle but firm. "I never said that," he refutes, his tone sharp. "I *do* want you. You have no idea how badly I want you…"

“But you,” you sigh, turning to face him. “Then why did you want me to give you space? I thought..” your eyebrows furrow as you trail off.

"Because, I'm trying to keep my head straight,” he begins, his voice strained. “You drive me crazy, you know that? The way you feel in my arms, your scent, your skin against mine... It's like I'm losing control when I'm near you." you look up at him, eyes vulnerable as you chew on your bottom lip.

Tyler's heart clenches as he looks into your vulnerable eyes, the sight sending a wave of protectiveness through him. He gently brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, stilling your nervous habit.

"Stop biting your lip," he mutters gently, his voice gruff. "You'll make it bleed." you open your mouth to protest, but find your mind clouded with his touch.

Tyler watches as your mouth opens, the sight sending a jolt of heat through him. His thumb rests on your lip, the skin of your mouth unbelievably soft under his touch.

He swallows hard, fighting the mounting tension between you. "Don't tempt me…" he whispers, his voice strained. "You've no clue what you do to me.."

“Tyler..” you move closer to him, eyebrows furrowing. “Please, don't push me away this time..” you cup his cheek, lips hovering over his. A shudder runs through Tyler at your proximity, and he almost gasps aloud as your lips hover millimeters from his. His pulse races, his body begging for more of your touch.

“You're killing me,” he mutters hoarsely, his hand coming up to rest on your wrist. “I'm trying… to be good…” He closes his eyes, fighting against the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you with a kiss.

You press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, hesitating to move any closer until he reacts. Tyler lets out a low, guttural sound as your lips meet his, his mind momentarily shorting out. The sensation of your kiss sparks a fire within him, every nerve ending singing to life.

His hand tightens around your wrist, holding your hand against his face. He responds to the kiss tentatively at first, his lips moving against yours in a feather-light touch. But as the tension mounts, so does the desperation in his movements. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips.

You moan as his tongue fights with yours, settling on his lap, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. Tyler groans as you moan into his mouth, the sound driving him wild. He slides his hands around your waist, settling you on his lap.

He feels like he can't get close enough to you, his hands clutching at your sides as his tongue explores your mouth. He pulls you against him, his body pressed against yours, desperately seeking more contact.

You pull back, gasping for air. Tyler follows your mouth as you pull back, unwilling to let you go. He's breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he gasps for air.

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes dark and filled with desire. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" he murmurs huskily, his hands still gripping your hips.

“I want you,” you slip your hands into his hair, pressing your chest against his. Tyler's breath catches in his throat as you tangle your hands in his hair, your body pressing against his. The feel of your chest against his is maddening, his body responding instantly.

"You have me," he murmurs, his words a guttural response. His hands roam your body, desperate to touch every inch of you. "You have me completely, sweetheart."

“That's not what I mean,” you whine, guiding his hands up your shirt as you press kisses to his neck.

Tyler groans as you guide his hands under your shirt, the feel of your skin against his driving him wild. Your kisses on his neck send a shiver through him, his breathing becoming faster and more erratic.

"What... what do you mean then?" he asks, his voice strained as his hands explore the bare skin of your torso. You pull your shirt away, exposing yourself to him fully.

“I want you.. To stop trying to control your desire..” you look at him with a needy gaze.

Tyler's eyes darken as you pull away your shirt, his gaze drinking in every inch of your exposed skin. The sight of you, bare before him, sends a jolt of pure, primal desire through him. He inhales sharply, his hands gripping your hips, his voice strangled. "Are you... are you sure about this?" he manages to ask, resisting the wild urge to claim you right there.

“Please don’t make me beg,” you bring his hands to your breasts, your hips grinding down against his with desperation.

The feel of your hips grinding against his elicits a guttural moan from deep in Tyler's chest, his hands involuntarily squeezing your breasts.

He grits his teeth, his body taut and strained. "You're... damn, you're gonna kill me," he growls, his voice thick with barely-controlled lust. "I need you... but I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart..."

“Ty, please. I need you..” With a feral groan, Tyler scoops you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He strides out of the bathroom, the urgency in his steps echoing his racing heart. Gently, he sets you down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight.

Your eyes lock with his, the heat between you threatening to set the room on fire. He leans over you, his hand sliding under the pillow to prop your head up, his gaze never leaving yours. The intensity of his stare sends a thrill down your spine, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Rain continues to pound against the motel window, the rhythm of the drops mirroring the thunder of his heart. Tyler's rough, calloused thumb traces the outline of your panties, the fabric already damp from your arousal. He leans in, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming you as his own.

You arch your back, pushing your breasts against his chest, the friction causing a delicious ache. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your neck, and whispers, "You're mine now, understand?" His voice is a mix of demand and passion, leaving no room for doubt.

With a need that seemed to have been building for an eternity, Tyler slides out of his own damp clothes, his eyes never leaving you. His movements are swift and sure, a silent declaration of his intentions. He kneels between your thighs, parting them gently, and your breath catches in your throat as his warm mouth descends on your center.

The sensation of his tongue against your sensitive flesh sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch. His touch is tender yet insistent, as if he's been craving this moment for just as long as you have. He laps at you with a passionate hunger, exploring every fold and crevice with a finesse that makes your eyes roll back in your head.

You moan, your nails digging into the mattress as he worships you with his mouth, your body responding to his every touch, his every caress. The storm outside seems to echo the tumult within the room, the thunder a backdrop to the symphony of your gasps and his murmurs of satisfaction. As Tyler's tongue works its magic, the only thing that matters is the here and now, the fiery connection that burns brighter than any lightning bolt.

As the storm outside rages on, Tyler continues to taste the sweetness of your release, his tongue lapping at you greedily. Your body shudders and arches off the bed, your nails digging into the mattress as you cry out his name.

He grips your hips tightly, not letting you pull away from the intense pleasure he's giving you. His eyes meet yours, dark with lust and satisfaction as he watches the ecstasy play out on your face. You're lost in the moment, your climax like a powerful tempest crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

As the last waves of pleasure subside, Tyler kisses his way up your body, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along your skin, savoring every inch of you. His strong arms lift you off the bed, cradling you as he stands, his eyes never leaving yours, the heat between you more potent than the electricity in the air outside.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you shift down Tyler's body, your eyes never leaving his. You take his erection in your hand, the heat and firmness of him making your stomach flutter. His eyes widen, his breath catching as your touch sends a shiver through him.

You lean in, placing a gentle kiss on the tip before taking him into your mouth, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Tyler's hips buck slightly, his eyes squeezing shut as a groan rips from his chest. The sound is like music to your ears, spurring you on as you deepen the kiss, taking him deeper into your mouth.

His hands find their way into your hair, his grip tightening as your tongue swirls around his length. The storm outside seems to crescendo with every stroke, the thunder echoing the beating of your hearts in perfect harmony.

His breathing becomes ragged, his body tensing with each movement of your mouth, each flick of your tongue. It's a dance of passion, a silent conversation of need and want, and Tyler is powerless to resist the siren call of your touch.

You continue to suck him off with an enthusiasm that speaks of a deep-seated desire, your eyes locked on his as the storm outside mirrors the tempest within the room. Tyler's hips stutter, and with a ragged groan, he pulls your lips away, his chest heaving.

He captures your mouth in a desperate kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face as his body tenses. His cock throbs in your hand, and with a few more strokes, he releases a hot, thick rope of cum that you catch in your palm. His grip on your face tightens as he gasps into your mouth, the taste of him mingling with the saltiness of the air between you.

The storm outside seems to hold its breath, the thunder pausing for a moment as if in awe of the power of your shared passion. His body relaxes, and he collapses back onto the bed, pulling you with him.

You lay there, panting, your heart racing as the storm outside slowly begins to abate, leaving in its wake a tension-filled silence filled only with the sound of your intertwined breathing. The room is a cocoon of heat and desire, the air thick with the scent of sex and the promise of more to come.

With the storm outside now a distant rumble, Tyler pulls you closer, the warmth of your bodies melding together as one. His strong arms encircle you, and you feel the rapid thump of his heartbeat against your chest, matching the tempo of your own.

He gently rolls you onto your side, spooning you as he lays his head on the pillow, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "We need to get some rest," he says, his breath warm against your neck. "Tomorrow's another day of chasing storms, and I need you by my side."

His words are a comforting balm to the storm of emotions swirling within you, the passion of the moment giving way to a gentle, post-coital haze. You nod, nestling deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. His grip tightens for a brief moment before loosening slightly, allowing you to breathe, to feel the weight of his love surrounding you.

You close your eyes, your body finally relaxing into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the steady beat of Tyler's heart lulling you into a peaceful oblivion. The motel room, once cold and uninviting, now feels like home, the thunder outside a gentle lullaby serenading the beginnings of a love that promises to be as fierce and unpredictable as the storms you chase together.

As your ass brushes against his now hardening cock, Tyler's body stiffens and he groans softly into your ear, his breath hot and shaky. You feel his need, his want, and your own desire stirs once more, a sweet ache blooming in your core.

You reach back, your hand finding him, and guide him to your wet, welcoming entrance. He's thick and heavy in your hand, and the anticipation is almost too much to bear. You lean into him, pressing your back against his chest as you align him with your body, feeling his heat and his need.

With a gentle push, you invite him in, the feeling of him filling you up making you gasp. Tyler's arms tighten around you, his breathing hitching as he sinks into your warmth, the storm outside a distant echo to the tempest of passion within the room. His hips move in a slow, steady rhythm, the sound of rain and thunder mingling with the slap of skin on skin.

You moan, the pleasure of his possession a sweet agony that sends waves of ecstasy through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his, the storm outside a testament to the intensity of your union.

The tender strokes of Tyler's cock inside you elicit moans that grow increasingly needy, the tempo of the storm outside matching the rhythm of your bodies. Each thrust is a declaration of his love, a gentle reminder of the passion that burns between you.

His fingers trace the curve of your hip, his other hand cupping your breast, the softness of your skin a stark contrast to the hardness of his grip. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his breath hot and ragged as he worships your body with his own. The tender love in his touch is a stark contrast to the wildness of your earlier encounter, yet the intensity of your connection remains unchanged.

Your hips rock back to meet his, the slickness of your arousal guiding him deeper with every movement. The storm outside may be fading, but the storm of passion within the room shows no signs of abating, the thunder a constant reminder of the powerful bond that you've forged.

Tyler's rhythm picks up, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that matches the dying storm outside. You feel him swell inside you, his strokes growing more intense as he hits your g-spot with every thrust. The pleasure is so intense, your eyes roll back in your head, and you let out a strangled cry.

The storm's final roar is nothing compared to the thunderous crescendo of your orgasm, your body tightening around him, your muscles clenching him tightly. Tyler grunts, his own release imminent, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you, one last time, burying himself deep.

With a final, guttural groan, he spills inside you, his hot cum filling you up as your walls pulse around him. The room falls still, the only sounds are the steady patter of rain and the rapid thump of your hearts, synchronized in the aftermath of your passionate storm.

He stays inside for a while, kissing your shoulders and neck gently before he pulls out. “Princess, we really have to sleep now.” He sighs softly, laying on his back and pulling you to his chest.

Your cheek presses against his shoulder as you cuddle closer. “Mhm, fine.. Goodnight Ty.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he kisses the top of your head.

[cowboybeepboop]

The Reading Rooms

Time for the weekly round-up! The response to this last week was INCREDIBLE! I hope the writers listed got some amazing comments and plenty of love because they deserve it!

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

This week was a busy one! I've been trying to get the next chapter of For Your Consideration finished, and I also posted the first part of a new miniseries - Breakfast.

On reading, I actually read some non-Bucky related stuff this week (shocker!).

Roy Kent / Joaquin Torres / Bob Floyd

This absolute gem Blood, Mud and Everything In Between by @roseandxanderfics featuring Roy Kent and an F!Rugby Player.

Come A Little Closer by @yourauthorjen featuring Joaquin Torres and F!Reader

The magnificent @marvelwitchergilmore killed it with two Joaquin fics I read this week: Where it Hurts and One Night

Sweetness by @cowboybeepboop featuring Bob Floyd x F!Reader (so, so cute, I am becoming a Lewis Pullman girlie)

This cute friends to lovers with Bob x F!Reader by @withahappyrefrain AND also The 5 Times You Flirted with Bob (I LOVE the TGM gang in this one 🥰)

And then, of course, there was SO MUCH BUCKY this week. So much.

Busy Woman by @wbellab (which also has part 2 linked, so be sure to read both!) (F!Reader)

Sneaking Around AND admitting feelings for Bucky by @fanficgirl429 (F!Reader)

Guys.... I have a thing for the suit. I read two fics about the suit. in the suit?! by @delicatebarness and the new uniform by @buckysouvenir (F!Reader, both insanely hot. It's the suit, it's killing me.)

Y'all - have you read declassified by @dreamwritesimagines?? You need to. If Congressman!Bucky gets your vote (yes, yes please) then this is for you because it's PERFECT. Off you pop, go read it now. Three parts so far and I am ITCHING for more. (F!Reader)

We're all into our Tower fics again (🤘2012!) so Interim Measures by @cheekybarnes should be on your list! (F!Reader)

When @mandoalorian starts the notes with "eventual smut and there will be a lot of it" ... well, sign me up. It's the start of if this is war, i surrender (F!Reader)

@sunday-bug has got a glorious Stucky x F!Reader fic Their Little Spitfire

@lessersole has a really great Congressman!Bucky fic which features Matt Murdock (yaay!) Bridging Boroughs (F!Reader)

Everything's Just Perfect by @ama3003 - soooo good, I'm a sucker for an exes fic! (F!Reader)

If we're calling him Sergeant, I'm here for it pals. Hey, Sergeant by @marvelwitchergilmore is sooo good!

I literally read this because I loved that @little-miss-dilf-lover wrote the words "chub on" and I couldn't stop giggling. Nevertheless, Morning Wood was phewww so good!

GIRL DAD BUCKY?! @flowersforbucky, my love, mine all mine was gorgeous 😍

@daxisyzz gave us Light After the Shadows and fluffy, lovely Bucky.

You might recall my excitement about there only being ONE BED!! in this @fanfictiongirlie fic Perfect - which also has a part 2 linked!

Finally, we all need to show Skittle some love over at @mrsbuckybarnes1917 because she finished Plus-One Problems this week - 106k words!! An absolutely bonkers achievement 🙌

I think that was it for this week 😅 I mean, there's probably more. My notes app and my google doc reading lists are not it - I can't keep up! And trying to save stuff in my 'likes' doesn't work either. Also, I wrote this on my laptop this week not my phone. Much less stressful 😂

Happy reading, gang. Enjoy this bloody gorgeous gif I just found. I'll be rewatching it for the foreseeable.