#Clark's a bottom

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[noka-exe]

duality of man….

[weedle-testaburger]

don't worry i don't actually thirst over any of these characters (they lied)

[l1tw1ck]

thinking about guys and monsters with dicks too big for their own good

guys like: Soap, Ghost, Enji, All Might, Steve Rogers, Thor, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Lucas Lee, Whoever You Want

* i dont really write for COD but the guys in there are HOT

top!masc reader

cw: size difference (smaller reader), smut

a monster with a huge dick made specifically for breeding finding himself laying against the cold stone floor of his cave with his cock slapping against his tummy while you, so much smaller than him, fuck him like he was born to be fucked.

or a strong, athletic guy with a six pack and a long list of suitors who wanna be dicked down by him. he doesn't understand how he ended up this way, how the mouth he used only to speak and bark orders in the bedroom ended up being used to suck your cock. How he ended up as a cocksleeve to the puny little assistant he used to tease all the time. How his long, thick, and veiny cock ended up becoming completely useless. How he ended up whimpering and moaning when you would tease him about it. About how cutely it's flopping around as you fuck him. Or how cute it is to see him humping a pillow with such a huge cock.

no one expected a man who towers over everyone and could easily split a person in half if he wanted to be a submissive little cockslut. It was shocking to see the stark difference in his appearance and personality once the alcohol hit. you never even considered him to be your partner, you thought he preferred to give. but what he really wants is to be used. no one would've ever imagined that he'd be so good at sucking dick. or how amazing he looks when he's in subspace

a monster who's very experienced when it comes to sex but extremely inexperienced when it comes to bottoming. a monster who laughs in your face for even suggesting that you top him. a monster who agrees to let you try, thinking you'd be far too small to make him feel good. a monster who merely chuckles confidently when you tell him it's the 'motion in the ocean' that matters. a monster who eats his words and gets his grin wiped off his face once you start eating him out. a monster who comes just from your tongue in his ass. a monster who begs for you to keep going. a monster who shakes the entire ground and scares off anyone nearby with his moans of pleasure. a monster who wishes his cock wasn't so big so he could see you better. a monster who creates a puddle of his own come thanks to a tiny human

[sekaithemystic]

neve's VA is a lesbian, taash's VA is nonbinary. i used to pray for times like this

[nouearth]

small things like these.

pairing. clark kent x male reader.

word count. 12.2k.

summary. a moment like having a cup of overly-sweet, sugary coffee spill all over you was one of the reasons why you'd been charmed by a clumsy man named clark kent.

content warning. fluff, eventual smut, corenswet!clark, top!clark, bottom!reader, strangers to lovers, brief lois lane mention, yearning!friends, clark has a sweet tooth, kissing, rimming, blowjobs, praising, sweet verbal, size difference, body worship, breeding, sweet and passionate love-making!

a/n. i recommend listening to the normal people soundtrack while reading!

I: MAY.

It all started with a crash.

The smell of gasoline was poisoning. Cars were lined up like dominos, passing gas from one engine to another, and the scent was festering in Clark’s nostrils, its rotting smell seemingly quadrupled by the summer heat. That was the charm of the city. The smell, and the constant scream of car horns as traffic began piling up. In the eyes of his folks, Clark can see his Ma and Pa doubting his sanity had they ever witnessed Metropolis. His Ma would shake her head in disapproval at the size of his apartment, and his Pa would be overstimulated into disbelief as the trio held hands and swam their way through the swarm of people who were simultaneously being chased in pursuit by one reminder: 

FASTER! YOU’RE RUNNING LATE!

“Oh, crap—“ Hugging the coffee cup to his chest after switching arms, Clark rolled his sleeve up to check his watch. Quarter to nine. “Crap, crap, crap, crap!” Panic finally set in, charging Clark forward into the sunny abyss of office-workers.

This would be the last time he would grab coffee right before work. He’d paid for the consequences already by nearly missing his morning meeting multiple times. Heavy emphasis on nearly as his shoes would audibly skid from turning from one corner to another upon the race he had against the clock, as the slippery leather of his shoes would nearly make him take a tumble if he hadn’t corrected his footing once he began sprinting to his cubicle, and as he sat down in the uncomfortable seat of his chair, only to rise back up once Mr. White made his entrance, nearly missing roll-call. Out of relief, Clark would take a sip of his Frappuccino. The whipped cream deflated from the race, though its vanilla flavor was unaffected as the foam happily danced on his tongue, mixing deliciously with the sweetened coffee. he would feel himself replenished with energy the more sips he took. “Damn you…” He would gulp, licking the vanilla foam off his lips, repentant in his mutter, “Why do you taste so good? Right when I’m supposed to let you go, you reel me back in…”

Clark was a certified Metropolitan.

“Sorry—I’m sorry—‘Scuse me! Passing through—“ 

Nearly there. The man was a mountain of muscle, sturdy and well-knit upon first glance, but Clark used his muscles for good, to protect others in situations where they needed him for leverage, not to harm. Upon instinct, he turned a shoulder for a woman to pass through, sparing little contact, then another when a father chased after his kid. It was hectic, his cup of coffee almost losing his grasp in midst of the scuffle, but Clark managed to find a silver lining in the crowd in midst of the clock ticking: the revolving door to the Daily Planet, an entrance Clark has become irrevocably beholden to. 

“S-sorry!” 

A man yelled out, “Watch it, asshole!” In midst of bumping shoulders.Few met his height. Many would either desire to have his height, or to be in the arms of the man who towered over 6’4. Though, in the morning of Metropolis, most if not all deemed it a nuisance.

Breaking out of the herd of people, Clark felt liberated. His legs moved in larger steps, and his elbows spanned from his sides like how they normally should as he ran into the revolving door and pushed against the partition to turn. He checked his watch again. Three minutes left. “Come on, come on—“ One hand squeezed his cup of coffee, and the other clasped his ID badge. His fingers felt slippery from the condensation of his drink, so he squeezed harder, pacing forward to the elevator, then faster when the elevator opened with only a single patron, you, occupying the space.

Faster. 

Clark’s thighs were on fire. 

His watch, two minutes.

Faster. Almost there. 

Clark let out one last breath as he was nearing, holding it out in preparation to stop the elevator door from closing. A relief of a smile came to spread across his face when it opened to accommodate his charging entrance from a few feet away. Usually, he was met by an expression of irritation by anybody who was occupying the elevator, but you looked bewildered, your eyes opening wide milliseconds later upon realization. 

Fear, as your mouth opened to shout, “W-wait! S-slow down!”

It was all in slow motion, watching your face contort to a various of expressions, and then nothing, as Clark clenched the cup of his drink with the force akin to batter hitting a home-run, popping the lid off the cup in process, and spilling the Frappuccino onto the frightened man, with extra vanilla whipped cream and all. All you needed as a cherry on top of your head, and you were ready to be sold as a Monday lunch special.

Maybe his beginner’s luck was running out of flame.

II: MAY.

Luckily, not many people seemed to use the bathroom in the morning. They must’ve gotten it all out of their system before coming to work. You were bent over the sink, wiping your face with god-knows how many paper towels.

“Just my luck…” You grumbled, squinting at your reflection in the mirror as you wiped the corners of your eyes, then your forehead, and then your ears. No matter how many times you’d lave your face with water, you felt sticky, gross, and worst of all, you looked like a mess. You still had your hair and clothes to clean, the smell of vanilla syrup sickening to your nose. The latter was definitely going to require an insane amount of bleach and arm grease to get the coffee stain off.

The door swung open not too long after, and in came the culprit who’d painted your clothes in brown and white, wide-eyed and panicked like he was searching for a lost puppy, then apologetic and defenseless as if he was the puppy that ran away.

“Shoot, I’m so, so, so sorry—“ He brought his hands to his head, pulling at the messy dark curls of his hair. You side-eyed him, responding with nothing but silence, and then a crinkle of the paper towel as you squeezed out the water. 

“Save it.” Your tone was pointed, though you didn’t necessarily mean for it to come across as aggressive as it did. It was already a bad start to your day. Your milk expired, you ran out of frozen breakfast food, and the bakery you liked to visit in the mornings temporarily closed for renovations. All forewarnings to this very moment, where you had been cleaning whipped cream out of your hair. You held out another damp paper towel towards the man, and then waved it when he simply stared, or rather embarrassingly gawked at the mess he had created. “Get my neck.”

“Y-yeah… Of course.”

Silence. You weren’t sure how long you two have been at it, but you’ve managed to fill the trash can half-way with the paper towels. In complete, utterly awkward silence. His touch was delicate, the paper towel gently cascading over your neck in small swipes, even though you’d shown him that you were more than capable to pierce through him with your glare alone. Laser beams would ricochet off your reflection, bounce off the tiled walls of the bathroom, and somehow strike him through the heart and tear that oversized vest right off of his large frame.

The anger only settled when the man repeated his nth apology, moving onto wipe your hair clean. You closed your eyes to calm yourself, breathing out a deep sigh, because it was a mistake. You were having a bad start to your day, and… so was he? Wouldn’t be a surprise. Mondays were notorious in fucking up the week.

“It’s… fine. Not like you meant to do that.” You looked at him through the reflection, his brows scrunched from hyper-fixating on every lock of hair that was blessed with his whipped cream. Was he always this handsome? And why is he towering over you? Why is he so close? 

“Who gets a Frappe in the morning though?”

“I—Black coffee doesn’t really help me stay awake.” A nervous laughter now that you were making conversation with him. It was the complete opposite of how he physically looked. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. “Nor does it taste that good.” He muttered, cleaning the last lock of your hair.

“I would tell you to watch your sugar, but I’m guessing… you got that down?” You didn’t mean to make a comment on his broad body, but the difference in stature was laughable. “(M/N). You?”

“I-Uh, Clark. Clark Kent.” He washed his hands in the sink next to you, lips opening to what you could presume to be another apology. You’ve only met him for fifteen minutes, but you were beginning to catch his habits.

“Okay, Clark.” You stepped forward, crossing your arms, and you could feel the rattle of his gaze as he glanced at you from the reflection. “I work downstairs, at the gift shop. You can apologize by bringing me lunch for a month straight.”

“Wait—A month?! T-that’s kind of expensive, don’t you think—“

“Hey, you can make it yourself. Get it from the supermarket. Scraps from a restaurant’s garage bin nearby. I don’t really care.” You leaned against the counter, stifling a smile as Clark looked rather charming flustered like this. “If you were really sorry, you’d be committed to making up for it nonetheless.”

“That’s a little extreme for someone you don’t know…?”

You shrugged, then turned on your heel. “Spilling a drink on someone isn’t exactly an ideal way to introduce yourself, you know.” Dusting your fingers of water droplets, you began your exit. “Also, I need a new shirt.”

“W-wait—“

“See ya, Mark!”

“It’s Clark!”

Maybe his luck was just beginning.

III: JULY.

“So…? Ready to guess?” The smile on Clark’s face was filled with anticipation. He watched you chew the contents in your mouth in an obnoxiously poised manner, an inside joke between the two of you as you two had been binging on cooking competition shows. You tilted your head in thought like the pretentious judge on one of those shows, pausing mid-chew like something strange had collided with your tastebuds, then continued as if it had faded away. “Come on, I’m dying here.”

You swallowed, taking a sip of water to wash down the bread. “Hey, I need more than a bite to figure the ingredients out!”

“(M/N), you’ve practically eaten half of the sandwich already.” Clark took his half of the sandwich and sank his teeth into the pillowy bread. 

“Look who’s talking.” You rolled a piece of white bread in between your thumb and index finger until it formed a ball, and playfully threw it at Clark’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to eat dinner last night.”

It was a strange feeling in Clark when you said that. His chest swelled a little, as if his heart kicked it from within. “Why’s that?” He slowed his chewing to clear his ears, putting aside his tastebuds for his attention.

“Well, they’re expanding the gift shop, so they’re asking me to work longer hours to help out. No one else said yes, and I need the money, so there was no question about it, you know?” He watched you dust off your fingers on a napkin. He knew of your habits now. Take a sip of your water, which you did, then fully settle your arms onto the table, unabashedly gazing into his eyes to give your tastebuds a break. His eyes altered to the tip of your tongue, peeking out to lick a crumb off your lip, and Clark mirrored onto himself.

It was a secret vaulted in the deep abyss of Clark’s stomach - well, not so much considering Jimmy liked to run his mouth - but your eyes were his favorite parts about you. Even when they were seemingly set aflame on the day he’d met you, your orbs have since had a way to reel him in like bait and never seemed to have let go. He would find himself free-falling into what soon felt closer to home with every second that would pass by.

“Doesn’t mean you have to skip dinner, though.” 

There was a breeze. Gentle and swaying like the jazz music playing in the balcony of the café. It sifted through your hair like sugar would through fine mesh. One got caught on a few strands—wind— and it blew back to recognize your features with the sun, beaming on features that Clark would someday have the courage to say he adored.

“Why? You thinking about bringing me dinner too?” He doesn’t like that you tease him so effortlessly. Clark also doesn’t like how easily flustered he gets, which prompts the cycle of teasing to begin with. 

With hesitation, he tried it himself once, saying something about how you looked good enough to eat or something when you styled your hair back for a change. Though, what came out was something along the lines of: “You look like you eat good enough,” and Clark would rather forget that interaction even happening.

“Haven’t stopped bringing you lunch, if you think about it.” The memory of his first meeting with you brought a smile to his lips, and yours as well, because you two tend to sync thoughts. 

“Yeah, two months now… When’s that going to stop?”

“It’s a routine now. I don’t think I can find it in me to suddenly stop feeding you.”

“Hm, you’d make a good boyfriend, Clark.”

“Yeah…”

IV: AUGUST.

“Nervous?” 

The powdery top note of your hairspray tickled your senses. You counted in your head, holding back a layer of Clark’s hair in your palm. One, two, three, four… Once you reached thirty, you released, sealing the pushed back fringe in place with another layer of the grooming product. 

“How can you tell? Do I look nervous?!” He’d been chewing on his lip, playing with his fingers, moving in his seat. It was like a toddler, but unlike a toddler, Clark was an adult. An adult who had enough awareness to refrain from making any sudden movements while someone had a scalding hot styling iron in their hand.

“Clark, you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since you sat down—“ You delicately pulled a curly strand to the front of his forehead, and it was another reminder how easily Clark could pursue a career in Hollywood. If only journalism hadn’t been such a strong passion for him. Though, with the way his nerves had been electrifying his body—maybe he made the right call in the end.

“Oh—Sorry… I’m just—I don’t know. What if I mess up? I say the wrong thing to Lois, and then she hates me forever? Then what? She tells the entire office about what a terrible—”

“Whoa, I think you’re thinking way too far ahead here. What happened to you being Mister Optimistic all the time?” You ushered him to get up from the seat, and then handed Clark his dress shirt and tie. “Besides, I don’t think Lois would do that. If you like her, that must mean she has some type of soul.”

“I guess so.” Clark muttered, changing into his shirt. Perfectly tailored to his body contrary to the oversized button-downs he was used to wearing. “You wanna hang out after?”

“Uh… you sure you’re going to be free? And not… you know,” Your brows raised, giving Clark a knowing look, and it was that flush of skin that you secretly adored coming in hot, boiling on the apples of his cheeks as Clark quickly deciphered what you meant.

“I don’t sleep with people on the first date, (M/N).” It was priceless. The horror on Clark’s face upon the accusation, his orbs retracting like he’d seen a spaceship landing on earth for the first time. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his confession while tidying up his living room. 

“I know a lot of people do! I just had to make sure.” You waited on the couch as Clark changed, replying to missed messages, scrolling through updates on multiple social media accounts, until you heard Clark approach from behind.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat, announcing his presence, and you turned upon the sound. “Looks okay?”

It was Clark.

It was Clark, but a more refined version of him. Not that he was sloppy in the first place, but simply… you could see him clearer, his own confidence radiating like it had finally discovered an escape to its freedom. His eyes, clear blues that sparkled even when the approaching night began casting shadows through his blinds and onto his glasses. It helped that you styled his hair back too, framing his face for the whole world to admire, and most importantly, for his date to as well. You reminded him to stand tall, and he took that into consideration through his posture straightening, and his chin raising.

“Y-yeah, you look… great.” It was infectious. His smile while he admired himself through his mirror. His dimples smiled back at him, and you felt your own lips curling on their own, like you’ve eaten a candy that was too sweet for its own good. “Lois is going to love it.”

Cavity-inducing.

“Yeah? Oh—I have to pick her up soon. So, you’ll be here, right?! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if it goes well—“ Clark let out one last breath, then a shake of his arms, and he found his nerves rattling up again despite as he approached the door.

Ten steps closer than before to Lois.

“It’ll go well, I promise!” It was his moment. Clark’s moment. Yet, you felt weird about it. You wanted to look at him for longer, a sudden greed to keep him in his apartment for longer.

“All right… wish me luck.” He turned to look back at you, appreciative in his smile, but his eyes looked guilty, meaningfully longing akin to the way he had looked when he spilled his drink on you.

That’s right.

“Good luck.” Apologetic, you remembered when he finally exited the room, and closed it shut.

Clark gave you cavities.

And like all cavities, you needed to get rid of them.

You needed to get rid of Clark.

V: DECEMBER.

It was partially his fault, wasn’t it?

There was no doubt in mind that you and Clark have been spending less time together. Clark was never a big texter, but he found himself messaging you a lot more often to make up for the fact that he had rarely seen you the past few weeks. Lunch was spent with Lois, dinner was with Lois, drinks were with Lois, binge-watching TV… with Lois.

“You’re always talking about Lois…”

It was why he preferred meeting up, because you never answered your phone, especially these days. If he was lucky, you’d spare him more than four messages a day before saying goodnight.

You never liked saying goodnight, and neither did Clark. By preference, Clark liked to fall asleep on the phone with you where he would catch your snores, and the embarrassment of it all would keep you awake for a little longer, at least until it was Clark’s turn to retiring for the night. It felt safe, knowing that he wasn’t - to some extent - alone in his bed. That he could mumble your name in his sleep, and you’d toss in bed, his voice ricocheting off into your own dreams.

It felt intimate.

“Hey, give me a call whenever you get back. Lois and I found this really cool aquarium you’d really like! I got a turtle keychain for you too.”

“(M/N)? Hey, I totally forgot about dinner last night! Work’s gotten so busy, and then Lois wanted to go out, and my parents were calling, so—Let me make it up to you? We can go to that diner you’ve been talking about.”

“Hey, (M/N)! Didn’t see you at the shop today… Doing okay? Not sure if you got the sandwich I left for you on the counter. Or maybe someone had stolen it. But text me? Let me know?”

“It’s Clark. Why am I telling you—I saw you the other day, but… you seemed like you were in a rush? I’m guessing renovation is taking a toll on you? Give me a call…”

“Hey, uh… Listen, If I did something… Will you let me know, please? I-I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening here, between us, but… I just. I miss—”

Clark didn’t want to seem obsessive. Absolutely not. 

But this was getting out-of-hand. He was panicking. He’d been panicking for the past few weeks since this whole charade had started. It was only right for him to worry like this, about his best friend. To go from aligning his lunch breaks with yours to sitting stone-faced at his cubicle with a half-eaten sandwich in his Tupperware was a huge disruption to his routine. It was like the world had turned against him in solidarity. Knowing his own mind, Clark deserved it.

There had been a farrago of missteps, too many of them to count, for Clark to simply shrug it off and see the silver lining through them for the next day, for the next week, or for the next month. It wasn’t like before he’d met you, where he would simply get caught in a long line of office workers waiting for their coffee, and then received a free pastry because they had messed up his order twice. Or how he would sleep through his alarms, where his body clock fortunately alerted him awake before traffic would begin to dominate the streets. 

No, this was different.

He’d earned a raise since then, for his great work on profiling the Superman, but it was all he did now. When it wasn’t Superman, it was being Superman, and Clark wished there was someone to talk to. To celebrate with, now that he can splurge a bit more on himself. To vent towards, about how it was obvious that he’d been holding Lois back since their relationship started. To shout with while he watched a movie because the killer had been in the main character’s house all along. To lament towards, because Lois had called it quits, yet in spite of that, it wasn’t as painful as the way you had been treating him. To scream out the month’s omen with, because maintaining this double-life of his was wearing him down.

Moments of happiness, catapulting his memories of you with laughter and warmth, had felt like a wound. A piece of him was broken. He felt hollowed out - a pineapple without its core - more so than ever, losing you as quickly as he had became friends with you, as quickly as he had fallen for you. Spineless, if he just watched you slip out his fingers and float away.

He needed to bring you back. He needed to tie you around his wrist like a balloon, like how his Ma and Pa would when they took him to the fair as a kid. At least if you float away again, he’d chase after you like he should’ve the first time.

If luck was on his side, you’d let him hold your hand and cruise the winter sky together. And if a miracle was in the palms of Clark Kent, he’d reckon voyaging the four seasons as one would turn over a new leaf.

VI: DECEMBER.

The air was frigid. The glass pane of your window shivered against the cold, frost webbing your reflection from corner to corner as you peered out into the city. Noses red and cheeks flushed, symptoms of the freezing cold as they endured the walk home. Careful steps across the sidewalk, into the street, as flakes of white fell to the earth. 

For an alien, it would summon silence. Those sparkling crests that would melt upon contact—an invasion they would yell in terror as the flakes seeped into their skin like acid. But for humans, people like you, it brought laughter. Giggles pierced the air, couples holding each other close to gather heat, but to also keep each other from slipping, and the world had only felt warmer despite the snow’s best efforts.

Your smile reflected off the joy radiating off of multiple passersby. Kids with their guardians. Dogs with their owners. Parents with their own parents. The holiday was nearing, spirits ramping in midst. As the streets emptied, leaving you in nothing but the cruel howl of the wind, you couldn’t bring yourself to caring about your favorite celebration. There was little need for your participation if you didn’t have anyone to spend it with.

To be completely honest, it was your fault.

Clark was happy. He was happy to have someone who shared the same interest in him. He was happy that Lois could bring the best out of him, either out of his work or out of his personal ambitions. Lois would make Clark the man his parents would be proud to see after silently agonizing over months on whether the city would be good for him. He was happy to share this new chapter in his life with you, and you had little patience to see him blossom.

You couldn’t bear it, knowing that it could’ve been you.

God, you were being childish. This felt like high school all over again, except… not really considering you weren’t out in high school. You’ve watched enough coming-of-age films to know that the audience would’ve deemed you immature. Worst of all, you would’ve vented to Clark about how foolish the main character was being.

Your romantic experience had been limited to silently crushing on guys in your classes to hooking up with strangers through an app. Maybe that explained why you were acting out. Why you preferred isolating yourself from the root of your happiness instead of surrounding yourself with it. When was the last time you were ever in love? With the family dog? With her puppies? No, actually in love… with a person, with a man.

“Fuck.” The ice cream in your mouth suddenly stung the back of your jaw the longer the spoon sat in your mouth. You’ve been looping Clark’s voice messages, debating on whether it was too late to reconcile, whether he was too upset at you to even want to have you step a foot inside of his apartment. 

“I miss you. I really miss you.”

You winced, groaning in discomfort, tensing your jaw as the voice message looped like some kind of hypnotic spell. “I miss you. I really miss you. Miss you. Miss. You. (M/N). I miss you.”

The sweetness bulldozed your molars. It was unbearable. You tended to your cheek, holding onto it as you hastily slipped on your coat and beanie.

Throbbing. Your gums.

Your hand yanked the door open, and you marched outside, into the blanket of snow.

Beating. Your heart. 

The cavity was returning, and you needed Clark’s help.

VII: DECEMBER.

Clark had mixed feelings seeing you at his doorstep.

This was not how it was supposed to go. He was the one that was supposed to be drenched from the snow. Shivering like an unkempt toy, with severed electrical currents making him twitch at the modest breeze, at the welcoming warmth. He peered down at you, where you met his gaze. Clark registered a broken and a contrite heart, and he could only respond in complete silence. Frozen in place because the visit was unexpected, but also because you made his heart swell to the point of nearing combustion, and it took all his might to control himself from pulling you into a hug.

“Hi.” You sniffed, wiping your runny nose. There was a stark contrast between your body temperature and Clark’s, he could feel the frost biting his own skin.

“Hi…” Clark took a step closer, but he couldn’t cross the distance between you and him, halting as if there was an ice barrier. No, control yourself, Clark. “I—Come in.”

A wet layer of skin; narrow hills from your eye bags, past the apple of your cheeks, and down to your chin. Crystals would form along your tears if you hadn’t insistent on wiping them clean. You never liked being vulnerable with him. With anyone, for that matter.

Clark stepped aside to welcome you in. You passed one glance at him, hesitant and apprehensive, but the warmth reeled you in, one shoe at a time. He was so close to you. Your arm nearly brushed against his, close enough as if it had almost nudged his elbow.

“You’re freezing—I-I’ll make some coffee.” He headed towards his kitchen, then paused to glance back at you, resembling the skittish reporter you first met as his indecisiveness staggered his following steps. “No, Tea? Hot water? I don’t know—“

“Clark, that can wait… Uh, how about we talk… first?” Clark could see it. He could see how you felt like a stranger in his apartment, a place he’d nearly asked you to move in as his roommate considering you spent so much time here. 

You carefully took off your coat, and Clark immediately went to your aide to gather it into his arms and put it on the coat rock. Though, not before letting the smell of your cologne linger in his nose, because god, he missed this. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s… talk.” He gestured towards his couch, tidying up the sweater that was beginning to feel constricting on his body.

Other than a tiny Christmas tree hiding in the corner of his living room, not much had changed. Everything was right where you’d last seen it, including a polaroid Clark took of you and taped to his ‘Wall of Memories.’

Out of instinct, you sat at your side of the couch, and Clark sat to the left, right beside you. Your palms ran over the cotton upholstery, then paused when your finger dipped into a ripped hole you had accidentally created when you two were watching a horror film.

“So… how are you?” Clark was staring. He didn’t mean to, but seeing you beside him felt… unreal. Maybe he was dreaming. The space next to your hand looked inviting, so his own hand naturally found its place, laying it there with his pinky finger barely grazing yours. You’re real. His pinky twitched when your finger brushed against the tip, and you pulled away. No, no. Come back.

“I’m good, well—long story, but…” You sighed, and Clark was patient as you took a moment to gather your thoughts. It was unlike you. Not that it was bad, but it was extremely attractive how outspoken you could be, especially regarding subjects you were passionate about. It was like you rode the ocean waves, swam with large strokes because you had a goal in mind, to convince Clark that mint chocolate chip was the best flavor of ice cream and whatnot.

“Before we catch up, I’m sorry… I don’t really know what I was doing, but it was my fault. I’m childish, I know that. I pushed you away because I was jealous… of Lois. And—please don’t hate me, but I hated how you looked at her. And how she looked at you.“ You breathed, your eyes casted downward like you were ashamed of being capable of human emotions. Then they clenched, because you heard how incredibly thoughtless you were being, yet that didn’t stop the tears from forming.

“And I was supposed to be happy for you, Clark. I mean, I knew I didn’t have a chance to be with you, but I somehow convinced myself that one day, you’d look at me with the same amount of affection you’d look at Lois. I would wait, and wait, and it was getting… painful. I mean, who am I kidding? I should’ve let you adjust first before growing impatient, but it felt like I was being replaced, and I was afraid of the inevitable, Clark—“

Now, you were floating. And out of fear, Clark felt his hand come alive, and spider close to your hand again. Tie him before it’s too late. It was up to Clark to change the trajectory of your descent. The pinkie that had lain next to your own crossed over and locked over yours. The barrier of ice that had been building between the two of you shattered into a million shard and he was frozen. A million of them pierced into Clark’s skin when he took your hand into his, and the clasp of your hand into his had bonded.

“Clark, what—“ Your eyes widened, letting in fragments of Christmas lights to highlight the glossy sheen of the tears welling in your sight. 

Without questioning it, Clark pulled you into his chest and felt the crumbled wetness stain his sweater. One by one, his fingers loosened to let go of your hand to support your body with his arms. Strong, thick arms wrapped around your body, fitted snug against you like a vest. There wasn't any resistance from your end, so he held you longer, then tighter in case you’d let go of him. 

It had never felt so good holding someone’s weight.

Two hearts pulsed against one another, and then as one as Clark buried his head into your neck in silence, while you rested your cheek against his shoulder. You clutched yearningly at his back, and Clark ran his palm over yours. Completely different motions, yet they told the same story, the same ending.

“I missed you.” In harmony, Clark’s voice mixed with yours. Clark often marveled at it, how often he came into sync with you as a pair. Another, when you mustered up the remaining energy to blindly breathe out a sweet laugh against his neck, and he followed, his soft lips inking your skin with a grin.

He didn’t want the hug to end, but it had to sooner or later. Clark needed to see you, as much as he needed to touch you. Releasing you from his hold, he settled for the middle. Large hands found their way back to the vacancy of your own pair and he leaned his forehead against yours, watching your eyes come back into focus as you gazed upwards, officially sharing his yearning.

“What are we doing, Clark?” It was dangerous. There was a heat to his cheeks that needed to connect with the one festering on your own. A dryness to your lips that needed a fresh paint of balm. Clark silently leaned closer, yet your gaze steadied, like you were silently anticipating something. “Lois…”

“We’re not together anymore.” He revealed once to his parents, and that was that. It was a strange feeling bringing up his relationship with Lois again, considering they’d both healed from it and moved on as friends. It was better that way, felt better too. 

Your lips parted for another question, but Clark was quick to answer. “November...”

“I’m sorry—“ Undeniably, Clark’s patience had run its course. He didn’t spare a single second for you to catch your breath. Instead, letting gravity pull the weight of his head until his nose pressed against yours. Multiple forewarning bumps to your septum that made you crease your nostrils, a charming expression he’d later marvel over. 

Clark allowed himself to sink further into you, applying all of his weight to push you back into the cushions of his couch to then finally capture your lips for one yearning kiss. It was cathartic. He’d wanted this for months. His mouth on yours, his hand into yours, and now that it was finally occurring, Clark wanted to savor the moment. Your body was reacting prosperously, opening your legs to close the distance between Clark’s body and yours. You wrapped them around his hips, condensing him groin to groin. Gentle tremors rattled down Clark’s spine as he pressed into you, mouth and hip, stirring wondrous feelings that ignited from the bonded bodies. First with the utmost uncertainty, then with a starry vehemence upon catching your delightful little sounds in his lips, in his mouth, on his tongue. He swallowed, releasing your hands to tuck his left beneath your head. A cushion, or a reminder to him, as his thumb carefully caressed your cheek, that this was real, that this was happening. You gasped, occupying your free hands around his neck because you felt yourself slipping. Whether it was off the couch, or from your original state of delusion, Clark was going to catch you no matter what.

“I love you.” Scratch that, he was never going to let you go. Not this time. You had no doubts about that as he repeated those three words into your mouth like you needed convincing, then kissed you again to lock his stubborn pleas in place. His glasses bumped against your face, but the feeling of his mouth on yours felt too good for you to complain.

A breather, you pulled away soon because Clark was stealing your oxygen, and you needed to tell him before you would embarrassingly faint from overdosing on the simplicity of his kisses. You took one look at him, gently pushing his head back before your hands had taken his cheeks hostage and cupped them, analyzing what made you fall for him in the first place. Thick dark curls that fell gently over his forehead. Clark’s eyes fluttered shut when your fingers ran through them, the pressure of his scalp gratifying like a long stretch in the morning. Wide frames that were too big for Clark’s face, but had he gone any smaller, they would’ve completely hid the beautiful blues of his eyes. You straightened the crook of his glasses, grinning because the bewildered look on his face resembled a puppy’s. His physical appearance made your heart skip more than a couple of beats, yes, but it wasn’t the main attribution to your attraction.

Your hand trailed from his neck, to his chest, then to his heart. Boiling, his heart was pulsating rapidly like yours, and you sighed.

Because it was here. This was why you fell in love with him.

“I love you.”

His heart was making popcorn, and the scorching heat was rising to Clark’s cheeks. “Thank, god.”

Clark pressed one kiss to each of your palm before leaning back into you, and continuing where he left off. Your laughter was eaten up by his mouth. Suddenly ticklish as Clark catapulted your lips with an uncontrollable laughter of his own. His body shook with yours, heart pounding at one’s chest to bond with the other as he held you close once again.

Nothing was funny. Just simply relieving.

Now tighter, drawing you into his arms when the collective laughter was enough for the couch to move a nudge and roll your intertwined bodies onto his floor. Clark could laugh all night long with you, something that could pull a world record if there was someone to verify the interaction, but something began aching inside of him when he was reminded of your hips against his, groins rubbing in simultaneous pleasure. He maintained his position on top of you, in between your legs, and seized the opportunity to press against you. When your laughter was interrupted with a stifled whimper, without a doubt, Clark was a goner.

“Can… I?” He leaned up, his curious palms on your inner thighs kept you spread on the floor. You watched inquisitively, anticipating, hardly masking it with a low-effort grin.

“Can you… what? Not sure what you’re asking, Clark.” Your elbows supported your body, leaning onto them as Clark bit his lips at your obvious teasing. You wiggled your hips while his hands did their best to avoid touching you there, anywhere but there, until you gave him permission. Chewing, because he was trying his best to control himself upon seeing your crotch twitch with agony.

“Come on…” His palms roamed the back of your thighs, then towards the front again, because he needed to occupy the anticipation of his sweaty hands. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not a reporter like you, Clark. Unfortunately, I was never good at deciphering clues or hints. You pulled him down by the collar of his vest, wrapping your legs back around his hips because you loved making him flustered. “Give it to me straight.”

“I—“ Clark surrendered at the touch of your lips on his. Gentle and sweeping, you kissed him like fall of snow, and he melted, whispering into your mouth, “I… want to make love to you.”

His voice registered sweet, in both mind and body. Your tastebuds bloomed when he kissed you again and slipped a tongue in without much warning. Your pants felt tighter as Clark began his antics again and ground himself against you, eagerly rubbing his larger bulge over your own. Clark was a growing cavity, festering right down to the root, but it was no longer painful.

It was indisputably pleasure.

“I’m all yours.”

There was something hidden in Clark’s gaze, something that his glasses had been unfairly shielding from you. You reached up to put aside his glasses and felt your breath hike when the quick glimpse of his gaze matched the avidity of his mark to your neck.

He refused to part from you. Even with the eagerness of stripping you, he needed to be in close proximity. Knit vests off, Clark returned to mark at your neck. Sweaters tossed, he quickly studied your figure and where you were most sensitive with his tongue and palms Wet and warm, you whimpered. Pants kicked, he helped you out of them while he clumsily stumbled out of his. Slow down, you’d laugh with him, and Clark would find his balance with a hug from you before he could embarrassingly take a tumble. A trail of clothing led to his bedroom, where you laid on the bed while Clark sat on his knees, decorating your entire body with the tiniest, yet wettest kisses. He palmed himself to this, squeezing his erection to the restricted pulsation of your own. Every time he ran a marathon of licks up your leg, your briefs twitched. Clark neared closer to your thighs, then inner thighs, every lap, and the twitching doubled.

“Clark…” It accidentally came out as a whine, and you were grateful that it did because you’d been keeping an eye on his clothed erection, watching it unfurl from a stuffy mass to an intimidating thick shaft where it began outgrowing his original side tuck and throb against his left thigh. It would be more than a handful, two if you were being pessimistic.

“Baby, be patient… I missed you.” The pet name came out of nowhere. They didn’t have nicknames for each other, but Clark felt good calling you that, and seeing how your cock began pulsating rapidly at the sound of his voice, he’d reckon it felt just as good hearing it for the first time.

After teasing you with multiple sequences of nearly kissing your bulge, Clark finally caved in and pressed his mouth to where the tip of your erection was hidden. Its location marked with a tantalizing wet spot that made him moan when he could taste your salty leakage through your briefs. Mouthing it, licking it, you watched Clark with an open-mouth, finding yourself mimicking his licks to the open air as you imagined his own erection was in your mouth. You played with your nipples, and it was heaven. You could get off to this. Clark could too, as he began rutting into the mattress, laving the center of your briefs with his wet tongue.

“I wish you could see yourself right now. You look so sexy, so…” Clark never finished his slurry of a sentence, clearly high off of his desire to ruin you. Your lids felt heavy, pinching and twirling your nipples to his languid mouthing like it was your lullaby. His voice came to a complete halt, a beat of silence that you’d come to query, until your eyes immediately widened at the warmth of his mouth surrounding your cock, finding your unspoken question answered.

“O-oh, Clark.. .That’s—mmf!” One hand was fondling your balls, while Clark’s other was stroking himself through his briefs after tossing your underwear to the carpet. His mouth was full. Warm and breached with your stiff shaft. His cheeks hollowed, and your body arced toward the ceiling as a result of holding your moans back. 

On the contrary, your body was trembling. Cold tremors electrified every bone in you as Clark explored your cock with his thick tongue, building your excitement to a rattle. He’d secure you in his mouth, sucking and refusing to let you go even when your fingers laced and pulled at his hair, a lazy attempt to push him off, but it only encouraged him to suck harder, lick at the underside of your cock, at your veins, swirling over the glossy tip, tasting the salt you’d produce solely for him, because of him. “S-stop, I’m going to come if you keep—“ 

“Sorry, you just taste so good…” Reluctantly, Clark pulled you out with a subtle pop, wiping his remaining saliva on the back of his hand. Your cock was twitching in a shiny coat of spit as you and him both watched his masterpiece of a tongue have its remaining effect on you.

“My turn…” It was a declaration. You crawled forward onto all fours while Clark watched in anticipation. He sat up on his knees upon you reaching for the waistband of his briefs. With a slow pull, his large erection sprang free with a heavy bounce, and your pupils dilated. “Jesus, Clark…” You removed his briefs, tossing it to join the floor, and he sat back on his knees while you marveled over his girth. Its size submitted you into silence. A tint of envy, but mainly of wonder as you couldn’t possibly imagine fitting him inside of you.

“Hey, you don’t have to…” Clark could see the fear in your eyes. The intimidation. Though, he would never admit that he was extremely turned on from watching your expression morph into utter astonishment. His cock, however, couldn’t care less. Thick and mighty veins blasted from the base of his raging hard-on to the very plump tip of the bulbous head. It was as equally as inviting as it was intimidating.

“I want to. I’m just… kind of jealous, that’s all.” You laughed to yourself, wrapping a firm grip around Clark’s shaft and watching in awe at how you couldn’t close your fingers around him, even when you had adjusted your hand. Clark’s cheeks were scalding. Was there an adjective to describe someone who was embarrassed, but extremely aroused right now? He’d have to look it up, but he was that. He watched how your mouth practically salivated for him, working him in slow strokes because you were careful not to anger this phenomenon of a creature.

“You’re perfect, wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Where would be the fun in all of this if we all looked the same?” You hummed at the comforting words, somewhat feeling guilty over your cock hardening over such a sweet consolation. 

Nonetheless, it wasn’t something you were going to dwell on. You knew Clark loved your body, he would’ve inhaled you whole if he could. As a token of appreciation, you nuzzled over the underside of his cock, lining gentle kisses over the veins that made you the hungry, desperate man you were displaying for him. “I love you.”

Clark would burn this image of you, drooling over the sight of his cock, over the tense of his muscles as you licked his abdomen, sucked at a birthmark on his hip, then hollowed your mouth out to accommodate his erection. “I love you.” He exhaled from his gut, nearly seeing the whites of his eyes as you didn’t spare a second in warming him up to your throat. 

“Baby, slow down… You’re going to choke—“

“Mmfggh—“ Sweet sounds. Delicious noises that made his spine tingle, that made his muscular chest puff up as it swelled with so much selfish pleasure. You looked up at him with such pureness, a determination that Clark was afraid to shatter if he made you stop, so he simply watched. Petting your head, brushing strands of your hair that threatened to obscure the parts he’d loved most about you. Your eyes sparked with glee as the salt of his cock watered your tastebuds. You let your hands roam free on his body. One palm admiring the toned muscles on his stomach, the other stroking the inches of flesh that haven’t been in your mouth yet.

Then, your eyes filled with tears, as you became overzealous from your mouth blooming with arousal and heat as you took more of Clark. Past the tip now, your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock to make room for his large shaft. Your cheeks hollowed while you sucked, and you could taste Clark leaking on your tongue again. Thick and salty pre-cum dancing over the bed of sprouts.

“Baby, careful…” Despite his warning, Clark couldn’t help but thrust every now and then into you.

It was difficult stuffing Clark inside of your mouth, but you proceeded. Further and further, you sank your head. Clark carefully held you while his gaze marveled at the warmth of your mouth. You’d splutter into a gag when you lodged him into the back of your throat, cramped and gratifying despite the tears in your eyes. Clark was quick to pull you back in case you choked on your own spit, and he knew you. He knew you were the type to take on a challenge. Before you could complain about him pulling you away, he brought you up for a kiss, meeting you half way as he bent forward. His hand was on your nape, tenderly massaging in case you pulled a muscle, and he smiled at your fluster when he pulled away. A thin line of spit connected the pair of lips, a display of devotion for one another. “You did so well.”

While Clark laid you on the bed once again and reached for lube out of his bedside drawer, you were kissing at the underside of his jaw. He’d left a mark on your neck, so it was only fair that you made your presence known as well. Your teeth nibbled on the stretch of skin as your lips wandered off to suck on a patch of skin on his neck. The smell of his body wash was strong in your nose when you buried your face into him, suckling until Clark’s neck had skipped the initial stage of turning pink, and instead, an ardent red. “Don’t finger me too much. I want to feel you.” Your cock throbbed in anticipation.

“No way, (M/N). I’m going to hurt you if I don’t.” He sealed off any potential retorts from you with a smooch to your lips, and then affectionately bumped his forehead to yours, sparing you a teasing smile. “And I promise you, you’d still feel me even if I spent an hour warming you up.”

Your heartbeat spiked.

You brought your knees up after he placed a pillow beneath your lower back. Clark took his sweet time lubing his fingers and erection. There was an obvious motive behind the gaze he’d spare you. A smugness in the curl of his calming smile. He made sure you were watching as he bucked his hips up when he slimed his cock with a glorious amount of lube. The remaining lubricant was used to lather your rim, and then the surface of your lips as he brought his hand up-close.

“It’s cake-flavored. Haven’t used it yet.“ Clark said with a laugh, pressing his lubed thumb to the center of your mouth.

“Of course it is. What’s with you and sweets?” Your lips parted to let your tongue peek out and take a swipe at the wet layer of his skin. Artificially sweet at first, but it wasn’t unpleasant enough to detract you away from it. After taking multiple samples of the lubricant, you closed your mouth around Clark’s thumb, and that was when the base notes hit your tongue. The scent of vanilla tingled your sinuses, as well as the artificial flavor of the sweet commodity spreading pleasantly on your tongue the more you sucked. It tasted more like marshmallows than a cake, but you weren’t complaining. You pushed his thumb out with your tongue and nodded in approval. “Tastes nice. Why do you need it to taste like cake though—“

“Because I like cake.” With a push of your thighs, Clark was back on his knees again. He haunched over to face your exposed entrance once you locked your arms around your legs, holding your knees to your chest. Then, he flattened his tongue over the smooth surface of your crack. One stripe to sample the quality of the flavor. Another to discover the depth of vanilla blossoming on his tongue. And then another few laps, because your bare flesh tasted infinitely better than whatever was mixed in that bottle of lube.

“Clark…” You wished you could properly watch him. For now, you had to settle on blindly watching the top of his head from the opening of your legs, dark curls bouncing as he eagerly devoured and lapped up the layer of lube that slicked up your opening. His tongue swirled over the rim of your hole, teasing at first, to sample you again, then he pressed his mouth to your entrance. The movement of his languid mouth nipping and mouthing made you pucker. It was an automatic reaction, you clenched, then opened, and Clark seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside of you, officially tasting you. “C-Clark! That’s—Mmf!”

Clark was under hypnosis. Everything that was said to him, that was plead towards him while he ate you out was drowned out by the sound of his slobbering. Two palms on your asscheeks stretched you out while Clark thrusted his tongue inside of you like daggers. When you clenched around his tongue, Clark pulled back to carefully push a lubed finger inside of you, spreading you back open. “I wish you could see this right now, (M/N). Your hole’s so pretty.” He looked up at you, lips beaten red and his fringe tousled, while he pumped two fingers inside of you now, smiling at the way your body had a mind of its own, floundering within your own hold, completely stripped of insanity and instead, disheveled over the smallest touch. “You look so pretty.” Your cock twitched in solidarity. 

For someone who made it seem like he absolutely got no action, Clark was a natural talent in pleasing you. His fingers were thick and deep inside of you, curling at various spots you hadn’t even brushed once in your lifetime. You bit your lip, writhing in suppressed arousal, and Clark would watch in awe as he simultaneously licked around your rim and thrusted his fingers inside of you. Three now, spreading, twisting, and churning in and out of you smoothly with the help of a fresh paint of lubricant. His thick pecs bounced with every draw of his fingers, sweat beginning to form over his neck and shoulders as the heat between you and him only escalated. He broke out into cold sweats, watching you unravel your sanity before his very eyes, and Clark was eager to be the cause of your destruction, for you to equally ruin him.

You’d let your legs collapse onto the bed a while ago, but it was fine, because once you were properly warmed up, Clark took matters into his own hands and balanced your feet over his shoulders, pulling out and orienting his hips before you. He slicked his cock in another layer of lubricant, the smell of vanilla mixing pleasantly with his arousal, and he leaned for a sweet, but confirming, pushing your knees towards your chest in the process.

“I love you.” He softly whispered into your mouth, forehead to forehead. Words of affection that you couldn’t possibly imagine growing tired of. Your stomach was in knots, your heart tugging one way, and then another, as you two shared a gaze. A silent one, but surely meaningful because you felt close to tearing, looking into his sweet, adoring eyes. It nearly ripped when he repeated those three words again in your ear, gentle like the kisses he was adorning the shell of your ear, ticklish like the way he had been tracing your rim with the tip of his cock.

“I love you…” It came out as a purr, and you gave his shoulders a loving squeeze. I’m all set.

Upon the completion of your breath, Clark pushed his hips forth. Slowly, you felt your hole opening. Wider, as it took in Clark’s hot pulse. Gasping, as it was a struggle to fit the head of his cock inside of you. Your body naturally reacted in pushing back the intrusion out of your body, swelling around the plump glans and clenching to prevent him from moving any further. “C-Clark—“

“M-mm, relax—“ He grunted in the depth of your mouth, distracting you with another open-mouthed kiss. But Clark was persistent. He was nearly there. One more push, and he was in. He used the back of your thighs as leverage, pushed your legs further back, and pushed with careful might. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to break through the barrier that refused to let you two bond. Clark was pushing. You were pushing back. It was a battle for territory, a toll on your body as you broke into cold sweats. You inhaled at the increasing soreness, but nonetheless endured because you’d endured worse. 

You’d lived through the loneliness that was your life without Clark, and that was absolutely unbearable compared to this. The thought of spending eternity with him reconciled you with near pleasure. You two would go on to do everything together. Holding hands with him in public would be a no-brainer as you helped him shop for a new suit. You’d celebrate his promotion over dinner, either homemade or a fancy restaurant, because Clark deserved the luxury of life. And if all things go well, he’d reward you for staying by his side and supporting him with a ring. Nothing too grand or magnificent, because you were never too keen for the lifestyle of the wealth. And knowing Clark, he’d ramble about how he could buy another engagement ring if you weren’t happy with it, completely forgetting to ask you about the inevitable: Will you marry me?

Exhaling once more, you brought a hand to his nape and gently pushed his forehead to yours. Then his nose squished with yours when you felt your body arched off the bed in response to Clark finally breaching inside of you with one tantalizing thrust, goosebumps fluttering over your skin and amplifying the soreness by tenfold. “H-hh! Clark!” You choked out, straining your neck as your body felt like it was burning. Scalding with pleasure and pain all at once.

“I got you. I got you, baby…” Clark slipped an arm beneath you, cushioning your body when gravity pushed you back onto the bed. He began lathering your neck in pacifying kisses, stilling his hips while doing so. “Doing so well, doing so good. You feel so good, you know that? You make me feel so good.” Clark was drunk on the grasp you had around his cock. So tight, you felt so tight, and he anticipated what you’d feel like beyond the first few inches of him.

“You’re okay?” For moments now, he’d been kissing you to divert your attention from the pain. Wiping beads of sweat off your face with the back of his hand. Massaging your chest and playing with your nipples. Anything to get your body to relax. Though, the most effective remedy was when he gazed into your eyes and rambled. Clark knew that. He felt your muscles loosen when he’d make a silly joke, or when he’d bring up a memory about losing his shoe at work. Touching was the easiest effort and you loved the weight of his palms on you, but you were most sentimental about Clark finding other ways to temporarily shift your mind to a sanctuary. All in all, the power of his humility was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m okay… Just been a while.” Your lips slurred against his, kissing Clark again, extremely appreciative of his patience. “Think I’m all good now. You can move.” You confirmed with a gentle pat to his cheek.

“I’ll make you feel good.” It was a promise.

Clark kissed at your ear. “I’ll make you feel like you won’t want to stop when we’re about to end.” A symptom.

His lips moved to your neck. You shivered at the ghosting of his mouth, of his tongue, before he’d rightfully claim another spot on your neck as his own. 

Clark reeled his hips back until only the tip was left inside of you. You whimpered at the emerging heat, but it was beginning to become bearable.

“I’ll make you feel like you were made for me.” You felt yourself split into two when Clark brought himself forward. A gasp slipped when you felt your hole stretch. And then continued to push itself to its limits as he worked himself inside of you with gentle and subtle thrusts, until Clark was an inch deeper. The grasp you had on his shoulders was extreme, egg-shell white as the sweat in your palms threatened to loosen your grip. The husk in his voice trembled while you swelled around him. Rapid pulsations embraced the thick veins of his cock, seemingly massaging him out of appreciation, a token of your gratitude because pleasure had finally materialized in the loss of your agony.

The toned muscles of Clark’s thighs slapped into the back of your sweaty thighs with every thrust. A salacious sound that wouldn’t cease. Louder. Harder, when Clark was comfortable enough to properly move inside of you. “Because you are.”

Properly stir your insides. Your face said it all. Your sight blasted as you watched Clark with dilated pupils, mouth agape like you had better counter to the flattery of the man’s words. Instead, you found yourself choking back on them. Words. They would’ve been affectionate words. They came out as stifled moans because it was embarrassing for Clark to see you like this. Grunts when Clark lodged himself deeper inside of you. He was just as motivated by a challenge as you were. The challenge of making all sorts of delightful noises fall from your mouth out of your own will.

Sweat dripped off of him like he’d just returned from a blacksmith.  A sweltering fire would heat him up. Not to burn him, but to make him pliable enough for the blacksmith to shape the perfect man out of Clark’s flesh and bone. A chisel to carve out the deep dips in his upper traps, where your palms loved occupying. Another at his waist, where you’d hold Clark to help him dig you deeper. Then a hammer, used to forge the sturdy muscles on his athletic body. Deep hills and valley, crafted over his pecs and abdomen to let his sweat drain onto your body.

“You’re made for me, as much as I’m made for you.” Clark murmured.

A vow.

With that, Clark mounted you, both of his palms grounded to the space by your shoulders to stabilize his catapulted position. He pushed his full weight on top of you. Your legs folded towards your chest, alongside the sink of his body, until your knees signaled the end of their mobility. A kiss to your left calf to keep you alert, a bite to the other to warn, and Clark propelled his hips forward without the intention to stop. Further and further, your mouth and eyes widening as he tunneled through your contraction, until his cock was deeply-rooted fully inside of your hole. Clark settled himself inside of you with a yearning groan, and you retaliated with staggered cry.

“C-Clark, I feel so… full. Honey, fuck—” Your skin prickled with goosebumps knowing that Clark had fully breached your hole. There was no doubt about that, yet your hand snuck down to blindly confirm the achievement, to see if you could slot your hand between his pelvis and your ass. But Clark was pressed flushed against you. No gaps. Only the thick hairs of his pubic region came into contact with your fingers, and your cock twitched.

You were completely and utterly full to overflowing.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. You feel so good. So warm. So… tight.” Clark huffed out a few breaths and slid his cock nearly out before slamming it back into you. 

“U-uh-huh.” You panted at the sight of his arousal. How gratifying it was to Clark, being inside of you, to the point where his eyes would roll back, and then feel the need to slow his deep thrusts, because he was close. You could tell. You could feel his cock throbbing harder. Veins hotfooting a nearing high as you stimulated his aching muscle, and you were stroking your leaking dick to the feeling.

“I love this… I love you. I love making love to you.” His cock hammered your insides, the thick head of it raking past your sweet spot. It made your cock tremble, your glans crying out with thick, teary pre-cum. When your moans hiccuped a pitch, Clark realized he had mined gold.

“C-Clark, I love you—“ Your firm cock slid through your closed fist every time he moved, the creaking of bed springs following every motion of his thrust. It wouldn’t be long before you made a complete mess on your body. “Oh, god—“ Clark clasped his mouth around your tongue, greedy to feel your moans ricochet off the walls of his cheeks, and into the depth of his throat. Veins charged his arms as he pinned your hips to the bed. You were floating, higher and higher. The roam of your hands, over his sweaty pecs, his shoulders, his neck, his abdominal muscles, his arms—you were stimulating Clark’s body so he doesn’t stop. Motivating him to blind you with his devotion, starry skies and all.

“P-Please, Clark. God, that’s so good. You feel so—“ Forehead to forehead now, Clark was watching you passionately through heavy lids, alternating his gaze from the silent plea in your eyes, to the beaten and swollen muscle of cock in your jerking fist. All while he throbbed inside of you, overwhelming you with the pulsating of his thick cock veins, making love to your hole with the refusal to stretch his approaching climax.

So close, you were so close. You held Clark by his neck with one hand, and refused to let him pull away.

Faster and faster, his cock consistently drilled into your prostate, drumming against it with a deep swivel of his hips and more, until you couldn’t hold back your cries. Your pulse raced as your cock twitched with your heartbeat, speeding the flicks of your wrist to outpace Clark’s thrusts. 

It was a tense battle to see who’d erupt first. Harder. Harder. Faster. You were a mess, and so was he. You made him a mess. A drunk intoxicated by carnal desire. Sweat clung onto his fringe, yet he had never looked so attractive, powering into you like a madman, impaling you with his love, with his devotion, with all of his might, brute force, through gritted teeth. You gripped him hard by his biceps, unsure of whether your cries of pleasure were heard between the thunderous sound of his thighs connecting to your asscheeks and the creaking of bed springs. You took a chance to cry out again, to warn him that you were close. 

“C-Clark, I’m going to come…” The bubbling feeling had been too irresistible to delay any longer. Clark locked eyes with you upon your alert, and groaned. His tongue came out to skim the bottom of your lip, and you strained forward to cover his mouth with yours, sealing the pair of lips in a slow kiss, contrary to the rapid rhythm that had overtaken the rest of your body, and it stole your breath and made you all dizzy. Your cock only needed three more pumps.

Clark panted a few quick breaths, bracing his body in anticipation by clutching onto your hips until his fingers had turned white. “Want to see you come from my cock…” What you heard in his murmur was beyond want. 

It was need.

Two. 

You reminded Clark that you were going to come.

One. 

His forehead pressed hard against yours, and he switched his gaze to your jerking fist.

“Clark—“

“Let it out. Show me how much you love me.”

You yanked your hand a millisecond before the inevitable, and Clark watched in pure bliss, maintaining his thrusts as your cock erupted with white. Thick shots of cum catapulted across your body with the aid of Clark’s thrusts drilling semen out of you. Layers of creamy ropes messily inked your body from abdomen to chest, and that was all it took for Clark to spill his load inside of you. 

His hand like claws on your waist, he pummeled your insides for a few more seconds, delivering your ass with powerful thrusts, and you sobbed out in between breaths, clutching a bundle of his hair in both fists. Finally, Clark grunted, unloading himself inside of you with a scalding bite to your lips. You felt his cock pump, his balls jolting as it drained itself inside of your cavity, filling you up with an unspoken affirmation that you were his. He pushed his cum deep into your hole, powering through the cold tremors overhauling his body, and resumed thrusting inside of you. 

Shallow and slow, but enough to spread himself all over your walls. Enough to remind you of the memory when you had been claimed as his, in case you’d ever forget.

You shuddered, dropping your legs to wrap them around his waist, because you could never forget. Couldn’t if you had tried. Not when he was milking his orgasm into you, dumping his warm seed into your hypersensitive hole until he filled you to the brim. Not when you prevented him from pulling out, because you pressed the heel of your feet into his lower back, and countered his thrusts with swivels of your pelvis, gluing him shut to you. 

Until you were bonded to him.

“I love you…” Lethargy in his voice, his eyes closed. Clark worked so hard, and you immediately rewarded him with a slow kiss, embracing him close to you after.

“I love you.” He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, evidently gratified by your response as you felt the corners of his lips tug into a smile. You murmured sweet praises in his ear, petting the back of his head to calm the electrical currents stimulating his body.

“We… have a lot of catching up to do, by the way.” Clark suddenly spoke, and your eyes weakly opened, inquisitive over the strange tone in his voice.

It was also funny. How absolutely massive the man was, yet in your arms, he was cuddling up to you as if he wasn’t aware of his own weight plastering you.

“Yeah? Something on your mind, or you wanna save that for tomorrow?” You idly twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, windmilling it out of affection.

“I mean, I guess so? It’s been on my mind since we’ve met. And it’s been killing me on the inside.” The stubble on his chin tickled you when he lifted his head to look at you. The expression on his face suddenly made his warning seem all the more significant.

Concerning, as you propped yourself on your elbows and frowned. Despite your risen position, he was insistent on continuing to rest his weight atop of you, not that you had minded. “You’re kind of scaring me, Clark. What is it? Did you get fired or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I—It’s just…” He stammered, then heavily exhaled. Thoughts of regrets plagued his mind at first, but he trusted you. You could see it in the light of his eyes. “Okay, here it goes. You know... how I’ve written multiple articles about Superman?”

“…Yeah? Got you on Perry’s radar, didn’t it? He seems to only like talking to you, which is impressive. Not surprising though—”

“Yeah, well… It’s just—there’s a reason why… he only sees me.”

“Why? Is it because he saved you or—”

“Clark, what are you doing with your eyes?—“

“Wait, holy crap—“ 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[yuzusfinest]

“Bruce Wayne is a bottom even with the ladies” i say into the mic. the crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame, when voices from the back speaks and commands silence in the room. “He’s right!” 2 people says. I look for the owners of the voices. it's Selina Kyle and Clark Kent

"that's factual information, I heard him behind the doors" someone added, the crowd were confused as to where the voice came from, but once they found the source they all screamed in excitement and applauded, it was Jason Todd going down from heaven to make the announcement

[insert-a-creative-name]

Jason: Hey Bruce, are you a top or bottom?


Bruce spits out his coffee

Bruce: Excuse me?!?!? I AM BATMAN!!

Clark: He’s a bottom

Bruce: And you are a dead man Kal-El!!!

[questioningespecialy]

hold up... smooshed? boobs? Clark's boobs? boobas?

Hear me out... Superman, right? But what if... trans.

cw: trans problems, misgendering

The day Clair discovered her abilities was the same day she realized more about herself than her parents were even ready for.

You see, Clair's parents gave her a different name. Something similar, but wholly different. Why? Because they thought they had a boy. How? Because Kryptonians have sexes and genders for days. Humans have no idea how varied it can get. And if the comparatively bizarreness of white-throated sparrows, ruffs, clownfish, spotted hyenas, snails, and seahorses are any indicator, it's probably hot interesting af.

But we won't get into that. Since Clair still knows nothing of her birthplace. Instead, we're gonna focus on Clair.

Clair was raised by two married farmers in rural America. Not too far from the major city Metropolis. But far enough to be... less diverse. Clair grew up in Conservative America, y'all, and it shows. When she was a wee lad, she was taught to be and behave like a boy. Problem was, she wasn't. She was very much a girl for all intents and purposes. Not a girly girl, but noticeably girl if you catch my drift. And that wasn't without consequence. People believe in men being men afterall, right? So the teachers were awful, which made it easier for her peers to be awful, and even the rest of the town was awful. But surely her parents weren't awful, right? They must've tried their best to give their child a happy childhood. Well, you're right. About the first part I mean.

Jonathan and Martha Kent both loved their son child. Like any parent would. And they wanted what was best for him her. Like any parent would. But what does that look like in practice? What does love look like... with different intentions?

Well,

dad was a disciplinarian (but less so than his dad) and mom was a gentle enabler (same as her mom). As most of us can imagine, life at home was its own hell and gendered expectations were rampant in Clair's life. So much so that she kept her body's changes from her parents. And yes, that includes her powers.

See,

with puberty came the changes. And with the changes came the powers. But just like everything else different about herself, Clair already knew well enough to hide it. From everyone.

That means no sleep overs, no skinny dipping, no public showers, no truth or dare, not even any sexual intimacy. ...Well, mostly.

So,

there was this guy, right? Derick. A lil cutie is what he was and he knew it. Liked to dress up in secret and dance in front of his mom's mirror when nobody was watchin'. Even wore feminine clothes under his masculine clothes most days. And Clair was infatuated with him. She knew all about his hidden clothes. His cross dressing. His secret makeup stash. Even how long he'd stare at himself in the mirror when his parents weren't home. "But, how does-" She was a hormonal teenager, okay? Give her a break.

Anyway,

Derick eventually noticed Clair lookin'. And immediately knew... that this handsome beefcake was in his league. 👍🏿 So after some time gettin' to know her (as buds of course), Derick decided to start sendin' hints. Anytime they were alone, actually. A smile. A graze. A helpful hand. Since Clair was either too nervous to make a move or two clueless to notice, Derick tried a different method: just bein' close friends. And that went wonderfully. Clair's first friend--the closet femboy.

They'd do so much together. Laughing and playing each way. Watchin' movies and savin' the fake day. Eventually, long after Clair relaxed enough around Derick, he tried again. But more direct this time. This time he... maintained touch. One night while they laid out somewhere on the Kent's farm, he slowly reached his hand over to Clair's.

Did she even know how to feel? Not at all. Did she know how to react? Hardly. But what did she say? Nothing. But what did she do? relax

It was so nice to be touched. To be held the way he held her hand. To be loved the way he loved her. To be... cared for. By someone... she loved.

For the first time in her life, she truly loved someone. For the first time in her life, she felt loved by someone who fully accepted her... and protected her.

...heaven is all this could be nothing less could be more free if her Tanakh actually referred to this in its listings of sin then a sinner she would be as their hold held on and the stars sparkled on she decided "I will never be less free"

And so their routines grew longer in duration. And time together became nearly a constant. All the while, their intimacy became infinite. And secrets became scarce.

It wasn't long before Derick opened up about his private habits. To which Clair told him just how cute he'd look in feminine clothes. And it was shortly after that Clair opened up about the crush she had before they first made eye contact. To which Derick chuckled how he noticed her lookin' at school for weeks prior.

These two romantic lovers shared so much of themselves. Held so much of eachother. That it was only natural for things to progress. Long after their first kiss. Long after their nights sleeping ontop of eachother. Eventually, they decided to share a bath.

And that was Clair's first mistake.

It's not that he wasn't ready. It's not that he was disgusted. It's just that... well... Derick just didn't understand. How could he? They were never taught that some people could have unusual body parts. They were never taught that they could be attracted to things beyond men and women.

Derick just... didn't know what to do. He just... didn't know how to feel. He was confused. And lost. Then... he was gone.

Days had gone by now. Clair still hadn't seen him. She ain't even gone to see him.

And how could she? After that... How could she face him? After that... She was lost. Not even her mom could cheer her up. All she could do was cry. And cry she did. As much as mom would let her.

If dad were still around, this would all be in another bottle. If dad were still around, Derick would've never hurt her in the first place. If dad were still around, Clair would've never experienced free.

Eventually...

she manages. Gets enough of it out to be functional again. Help her mom. Watch a show. Try not to think about him. Eventually, graduation comes. And the first thing she's asked is "So what're ya gonna do now?" "...I'm gonna become a journalist."

And so she does. Still managing to visit her mom on the weekends (through inconvenience of the city bus of course). She's grown far enough past her heartbreak and traumas to return to the town that raised her. Or so she thinks.

One day,

in Metropolis, she spots a cute coworker at the Daily Planet. Some lesbian-ass looking shortstack with a tight-ass waist. Clair thought she knew her type... until now. Now she doesn't know anything. Can't even get this lady outta her head. And can't even figure out why.

"She's lesbian, right? Wouldn't even be interested in..." she thinks to herself neglecting her job. Fully knowing how well she presents masculine now. How used to a short bush she is. How comfortable she's become with a binder. How little she thinks of being called "he".

Truth is,

Clair comfortably goes by Clark now. The name his parents gave him. And he really doesn't think about how strange that is. That someone so uncomfortable presenting masculine as a child... would be so comfortable with it as an adult. If he knew some Kryptonians they could tell him. But alas he knows none. So on he continues. Pretending to just be another one of the many.

That is,

when he's not moonlighting of course. Clark may be a masculine, yet gentle, man in a tie. But Clair's a feminine goddess ready to take on the Amazons.

Superman she calls herself. And the people get it. Not a woman nor a man. Only super, with semblance of woman.

No one knows where she came from. With her long kinky fro. Only the sky, some say. A government project, others theorize. Truth be told, she did fall from the sky. And she was created by the government. Well, not exactly in the latter case. But for the most part.

Regardless of origin,

she's become a beacon of hope. Hope that the (wo)man can be better. That Metropolis can be better. That Earth can be better. Better at caring. Better at nurturing. Better at helping. Better people.

She is the Superman. And she is American.

Well...

right now she's just Clark. Some journalist who's too nervous to talk to that Lois lady he's interested in. The one who's got the stuff to run this place like nobody's business on the drop of a dime. Definitely a top.

---

inb4 "this ain't trans actually"

Even without this whole-ass write-up, I find the below video interesting to watch with the altered context of Superman presenting as a woman while Clark presents as a man, especially the first scene.

everything about these two scenes is perfect

[bruciemilf]

Okay, but give me a battinson who's utterly gone on Clark Kent, but for some unknown reason to anyone else, has a great distaste towards Superman.

And Clark KNOWS it isn't the all powerful alien thing. He's seen Bruce let J'onn ruffle his hair, pick him up randomly, and share wordless conversations telepathically.

It seems to be Superman specifically, and it confuses him big time (and maybe, perhaps, perchance, he IS a bit jealous)

So, when they have lunch as Clark and Bruce, Clark straight up asks,

" Why do you dislike Superman so much? You're avoiding and ignoring m- him all the time. He told me. He looked pretty dang sad about it."

And then, to his delighted surprised, Bruce blushes a brilliant red, looks away, scowl deeper than ever. He's lucky to have super hearing, or the next words would go unnoticed.

"...Handsome."

" What?"

"He's handsome. It's annoying."

[obsessive-evie]

keep them on, please

pairing: Caitlin Clark + fem!oc

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of rough sex, inappropriate use of jewelry??

Sets of perfectly mismatching rings always covered my fingers. A wrap-around Lilly spoon ring for my pointer finger was a specific favorite of mine. And Caitlin’s.

My girlfriend’s slightly anxious personality meant her eyes gravitated towards safety. Which was often found in the familiar, or my rings. The same rings every day on the same fingers, fiddled with in the same patterns, flipped across fingertips absentmindedly by myself.

So any chance my girlfriend could get, her hand would find mine, and I loved it. And every time without fail, her lengthy fingers would always find a way to maneuver said silver rings off of my own smaller ones, and into hers. She would fiddle with them, slide them along my knuckles, and look at them so closely you’d think she was trying to memorize every carving and scratch.

I’ve never really asked her about it until I noticed she looks at them during… certain times.

We had just arrived home after a night out with friends, after a few drinks in and her hands had gone a little too far up my thigh for the busy upscale bar, I’d told her we should head home.

The whole ride home was spent with my slightly more than tipsy girlfriend glued to my hands. The hands that once roamed over my thighs and hips in the dimly lit bar were now brushing over my knuckles and flipping my rings as she leaned on my shoulder.

Arriving back at her place for the night, we had ended up half clothed- my dress bunched up around my hips with straps falling off my shoulders as she hovered above me, her black silk shirt all the way unbuttoned to reveal a simple lace bralette.

Of course her hands held mine as she kissed my neck, leaving it up to me to undress us one handed. The silk shirt that I picked out for her highlighted her pale skin in the low light of her bedroom, the shadows from it accentuating her collarbones and abs as she left small bites on my neck.

Caitlin’s large hand came to pin down my own, her knuckles squeezing harder around my rings, which reminded me I needed to take them off before this went any further.

Pushing back on her shoulder with my one free hand, I break our kiss, “Wait babe sit up for a sec,” I say. She leans back to sit more on my thighs than on my hips, allowing me to sit up and begin to take off my rings.

A warm hand stops me, wordlessly, she pushes my shoulders back down and returns to my neck. I let her, thinking she just wants to makeout right now and not go any further.

But once she’d pulled me out of my dress and untucked her shirt from her jeans (the action totally didn’t kill me a little), unbuttoning them along the way, I realized this was most definitely not a makeout.

Pushing on my inebriated girlfriend’s shoulder once again, except this time hooking my leg around her own, effectively flipping out positions and seating myself atop Caitlin’s hips.

Attempt number 2 of taking off my rings: also unsuccessful.

I took a moment to appreciate my girlfriend with my hands on her abs, “You’re so pretty baby.” She still doesn’t say anything, a tendency of sleepy/tipsy/horny Cait. I brought my hands together once more to pull off my rings, but before I could even get one off, her hands stop me again.

Gentle and warm fingers press into my wrists, her thumbs barely cutting into my pulse point. Before I realize what’s happening, shes sat up onto her elbows and is kissing the soft inside of my wrist, followed by my palm, then the back of my hand, then lastly my knuckles, her lips barely brushing the cool metal adorning them. “Keep them on,” she finally voices in a quiet, almost timid voice. Caitlin going reserved in the bedroom wasn’t entirely unusual. She was an anxious person half the time and a confident powerhouse the other half, I never knew what I was going to get when we were undressed.

But this edge to her voice, the slight waver in her tone, the way her eyes relaxed slightly, like she was melting into my gaze. This was different. New. This wasn’t our usual game of cat and mouse, she was showing a different form of vulnerable I rarely got to see.

Her lips slide down my fingers, past my rings, until my nails are barely resting on the flesh of her bottom lip. Her soft grip on my wrist doesn’t change as she slowly opens her mouth wider and to take my center two fingers into the warm wetness. Her tongue juts out just slightly, sliding my digits deeper and deeper, making me gasp at her unwavering eye contact and bold actions.

Her lips close around my knuckles as she closes her eyes, my rings sitting just behind her lips. I can’t quite breathe, or think.

That’s when I feel her tongue begin to slide up and down the crevice created by my two fingers together, sucking just slightly. She tilts her head back faintly, allowing herself to slide the tip of her tongue under the rim of a thick stamped ring on my middle finger. The small but strong muscle moves said ring back towards her mouth as she slowly slides my hand away from her.

Her eyes open slowly once my nails are resting once again by her now closed lips, covered in spit this time. Now missing a ring, my pulse quickens at what I just witnessed. My tall and usually tough girlfriend completely surrendering to me, and taking my fingers in her mouth oh so gently, sucking on them and covering them with her warm spit.

Her soft eyes bore into mine as she opens her mouth to reveal my ring sitting so perfectly on her tongue. She sticks it out slightly, an offering, I realize. Like a pearl in an oyster, my shiny spit covered ring stands out against the deep pink of her mouth and tongue.

I reach my middle finger back over her tongue, placing the tip of it in the center of the ring, and slide it back onto my knuckles with my ring and index finger. The motion I’ve done a thousand times now has a different meaning to it once I look back at the loving eyes of my girlfriend.

She almost looks too pretty, too soft laying there like this, tongue stuck out and spit beginning to pool on the muscle. It slowly slides back into her mouth before she closes her shiny lips again and swallows. Caitlin’s takes a deeper breath, like she was in a slight trance (I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t either), and restates, “keep them on,” there’s a pause, “please.” She says the last part in an almost pleading, ever so slightly shaky voice. If I didn’t know her as well as I do, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But the unmistakable lilt of sheer wanton desire slides under her words like a silent stream.

I nod, feeling air enter my lungs in a deep inhale, allowing myself to breathe after such a tense moment. My fingers retreat from her lips, and I notice the sheen on her chin and surrounding areas. I swipe my thumb slowly across it, and her mouth opens slightly, almost instinctively. Before I back out, I dip the edge of my thumb into her mouth, opening her jaw wider by pressing on the lower row of her teeth. The slight bite of them pressing into the pad of my thumb makes me want her more as the dainty silver band sitting at the base of it is now flooded with spit.

I withdraw from her mouth once more after she swipes her tongue gently across my thumb. Keeping my hand resting on her jaw and cheek, I lean down to kiss my girlfriend deeply.

I breathe in her pulse, her soft hair underneath my under forearm as it holds myself up above her head, the taste of her lips on mine, and the unmistakable tang of metal on her tongue. I moan into mouth when she pushes her hip up into my center, her hands still resting frozen by her side like she’s waiting for permission to grab at my hips.

My right hand wanders down from her jaw to her neck and collarbones, framing where they meet in a perfect U-shape. My movement seems to spur her on, and I finally feel the familiar warmth of her hands on my hips, cradling the lace covered flesh with such gentle firmness I can’t help but kiss her harder.

My hand resting on her neck slides around to the muscle of her shoulder, sitting up and pulling her with me.

“Off.” Is all I say, sliding the silk fabric that was already hanging off her shoulders down the silent strength of her arms, as it was more just hanging off her slender form after being untucked earlier. Next I undo her belt, sliding it out of its loops without breaking eye contact. She understands to lift her hips after I unbutton her pants and open her zipper, revealing a matching. Set.

The same pattern of black lace and ribbed cotton adorns her hips and pussy, melting me from the inside out. My eyes meet hers before I slide her pants the rest of the way down her long legs, sitting myself back on her smooth skin of her thighs. She looks away, clearly nervous and awaiting my reaction.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” is all I can breathe out before I lean back up to capture her lips, my hands (and my rings) digging into her prominent hip bones to hold myself up.

The two of us were now only wearing our bras and underwear, each just sultry enough to elicit a reaction, but comfortable enough to wear on a night out. Caitlin’s was simply more jarring to me.

Don’t get me wrong, my incredibly sexy girlfriend liked to be girly and feminine, but usually opted for her more practical sports bras and simple underwear. So seeing her strong body covered in something so delicate and pretty was a pleasant surprise, even if her bra was visible all night.

Her warm hands pull my hips down onto her protruding ones, making me gasp into our kiss in surprise. Letting the sparks it creates burn through me, I push my hips down to hers this time, moaning into her mouth at the pleasant buzz. As I begin to move back from her hips, she pushes hers up, continuing my pleasure.

I shift my weight to my right knee holding myself up outside her thigh so I can reposition myself seated on just one of her strong thighs, allowing my kneecap to meet her black lace.

A bitten lip and a short exhale is my gift in return.

I move my knee once more, sinking back down onto the tense area where her hip bone meets her thigh. We fall into this rhythm, pushing my knee into her clothed center, grinding down and towards her on her thigh, while she pushes her leg up and flexes.

The result of this repetition is the sight of my girlfriend beneath me, wearing a matching set (which alone would kill me anyways), with her eyes squeezed shut, hips twitching and grinding against my own. Her mouth parts slightly with a gasp, her abs begin to flex even harder as her shakey grip tightens on my thighs.

I pull her hips down onto my knee and slow my grinding, allowing her to squeeze her thighs together. Running my decorated hand up her abs and chest, stopping once I get to her collarbones, I lean my head down to whisper in her ear, “you look so filthy fucking yourself onto my thigh.”

Her whole body shudders, her breathing stalls and comes out in rushed puffs of hot air, I see her mouth open wider as she tilts her head back.

Oh shit

Fast paced pants and whines fill the dimly lit bedroom, and she’s finishing on my leg before I can process how fast she got here, especially just through her underwear.

I don’t slow my movements, not for a second. Not even when her grip on my thighs turns almost painfully hard. Not even when I’m worried she’s not breathing at all.

A large and harsh exhale leaves her spit slick mouth, and her shudders seem to slow. I wait for her to slow her hips herself, leaving my knee pressed into her for Caitlin to decide when she’s done. Her hips come to a full stop, her tense abs and neck relax, and her death-grip on my thighs eases.

Her eyes are still closed when I slowly ease my knee away from her core, kissing her cheek softly as a distraction. Consciousness seems to flood her face after air fills her lungs once more for a complete breath at my actions.

I smile softly, kissing her cheek again, followed by her nose. She opens her mouth to speak, meeting my eyes. Nothing comes out, her eyes vulnerable and almost embarrassed. I move a piece of hair out of her eyes, admiring how the dark strands pool above her like a halo in this light.

“Are you okay?” I whisper softly, almost into her mouth. Her face flushes even more crimson, averting her eyes and tilting her head away from me. Her clear embarrassment at how fast she finished on my thigh surfacing at my question.

Oh so gently, I cradle her jaw, turning her back to face me. I kiss her firmly on the lips this time, not allowing her to turn again when I pull away. “I’ll ask again,” I whisper into her mouth, keeping her eyes on mine, “are you alright baby?” A slow but firm nod is what follows.

I feel her take a deep breath with her whole chest before responding, “I just didn’t expect that is all.” I feel a small smile grace my face at her embarrassment, her warm deep brown eyes nervously dancing between my own. My own teeth dig into my lip, deciding to be slightly cruel, I push my knee back up into her, making her gasp and squirm before I say, “I liked it.”

I can see her holding back a moan, slightly from overstimulation and slightly from my words and attention. I push again, making her flinch slightly, “Not yet, I can’t,” she gasps out, holding my hips firmly away from her, our slight strength and size imbalance making it easy for her to do so. My thumb soothes the creases between her brows, admiring her features in the moonlight.

She kisses me this time, myself too distracted with the beautiful girl beneath me to notice her own stares at my lips. We kiss until I can’t hold myself up anymore, my arms giving out forcing me to lay fully on my girlfriend. Our chests pressed together, hearts beating in synch, trying to melt every golden molecule of her body into mine, we stay like that for not long enough.

My hand on her jaw and cheek rings dancing along her warm skin, my other still playing with her hair, Caitlin moves her own hands up my back and waist, pulling me closer.

Before I can slink back down her body to give her another deserved orgasm, I’m flipped onto my back by the lithe muscles holding me. What once was my embarrassed and shy girlfriend post orgasm is now a smirking and hungry looking brunette above me. She begins kissing my neck softly, making me melt into the pillow. I almost don’t notice when her smooth hand slides under my slightly arched back, unclasping my bra in one quick movement.

Before I can protest and remove hers too, she sucks where my neck meets my shoulder, hard. “Hey! That kind of hurt…” I say in a tone slightly whinier than I would’ve liked. She laughs a breathy laugh before pealing the black lace off my chest and shoulders, tossing it to the side somewhere in her room. Her large hands cradle my upper rib cage, thumbs dipping into my sternum just under my boobs while her middle finger reaches all the way over the side of my torso.

She continues her slightly rough kissing on my neck, trailing down to my newly exposed tits. She knew how sensitive they were at times, and decided to get payback for earlier I guess. Attacking the soft flesh with a flurry of her tongue and occasional strikes of teeth, she began leaving tiny marks all down my chest and rib cage.

Deciding I’ve had enough of this teasing, and the fact that she still has her bra on, I pull her shoulder blades forward into me, causing her to lean down on top of me with her head pressing into my sternum. She looks up, meeting my eyes slightly, so I cradle her jaw yet again and make her fully look at me. “Kiss me,” I say, milking the slightly pouty nature hoping she’ll abandon her post at my tits in favor of my mouth.

She does, my girlfriend never being able to say no to me when I give her any ounce of control. Oh well bye bye control for her.

The second she gets close enough to my face, my decorated hand finds her neck, squeezing slightly in a consistent but firm grip. Never hard enough to hurt her or cut off her air yet, but hard enough to make her freeze. Now knowing how she feels about my rings, I make sure to push the base of my fingers just as hard as my fingertips.

Her eyes change again, back to a similar vulnerable air from before. Pushing harder with the base of my hand and wrist, I moved her away from my face and sit up as she moves. All I simply do next is push on her shoulders and she’s falling back into the pillows once more. There must’ve still been enough alcohol in my girlfriend’s system for her to be so pliant with me, her usual cocky demeanor shining through occasionally, even when she’s a total bottom for me.

Seating myself once more on her hips, borderline lower stomach. I keep her eyes on mine as I slowly remove one ring, a smooth moonstone juts out from its silver casing, so I place it on the nearby bedside table. Quite frankly that would not be comfortable in any situation. I make it very apparent I’m keeping the rest on by placing my hands on her chest firmly, and dragging the cool metal up and around her back.

She gets what I’m trying to do and arches just enough for me to unhook her perfectly pretty bralette. Repeating the actions she did for me silently, I take my time reveling in every inch of newly exposed skin, knowing she’ll start getting nervous soon under my gaze.

Running the now seven silver rings up and down her stomach and sternum, around her chest and collarbones, while purposefully avoiding too close to her tits, Caitlin begins to squirm. I glance up at her face, noticing she wasn’t making any kind of noise yet. She had her bottom lip trapped between the sharp teeth I know all too well, face turned to the side, eyes glancing anywhere but me while her eyelids fluttered every time I got closer to her nipples.

I lean down to kiss her cheek, which brings a small smile to the clearly high strung girl beneath me. Following that kiss with a quick one where her jaw meets just below her ear, then the side of the her neck, the hollow of her throat, the inner tip of her collarbone, lastly a feather light peck on her sternum. I pause, just hovering above her tits, I can almost feel her heartbeat pick up as my breath tickles her skin.

Glancing up her face once more, I take it her almost anguish gracing her features before relenting, and kissing my way across her chest. A gentle suck on one of her perked nipples and I finally get a noise out of her. A breathy, barely there whine albeit, but a noise nonetheless. Caitlin was typically pretty quiet during sex, usually holding back her noises out of embarrassment, or simply opting for heavy breathing and swearing, the occasional whine telling me I’m doing something right.

Rubbing up and down her sides, I move to alternate sucking on one nipple, and gently rubbing and pinching the other, eliciting a few more heavy breaths, and finally, “fuck, babe.”

I smile, taking that as my cue to start kissing her abs. I won’t lie, I definitely spent far too long with my lips attached to her abs. Little bites, gentle hickeys, kisses, anything I can to mark up her toned stomach, I will 100% always do. I can’t help it her muscles are incredibly hot and only available when she’s beneath me.

Her breaths come out faster and harder the lower I go, treating every ridge and hard line with a stark mix of gentle tongue and sharp teeth. My hands still keeping busy on her chest and sides, my large etched ring on my middle finger brushes her right nipple, catching on it as my hand travels. This simple action results in a buck of her strong hips, and her hand coming to hold the back of my head (like my head had anything to do with that action?), accompanied with a gasp that melts into a soft moan.

Her noises are more consistent now, but I can tell she’s still holding back. Never one to ask or beg for me to do anything, I travel to her hips, biting on my way down to her thighs to ease up on my relentless teasing. She finally looks down at me once I’ve seated my lips at the junction of her hip and thigh, sucking intently on the soft flesh there.

I grip her twitching hips slightly harder than necessary, making sure she feels the cool press of the metal adorning them into her soft skin. I keep her eyes on mine, making sure Cait sees my next move.

Kissing just above the lace on her hip, I pause. Grabbing the thin fabric between my front teeth, and her mouth parts even more. I pull the lacy black underwear concealing my girlfriend down to her thighs, then fully off her with my hands once I reach her knees.

Running my hands back up her outer thighs as I kiss the soft skin on the inside of them, she parts the strong muscles for me. This new position of staring directly at her cum covered pussy sends a new kind of determination through me.

I hesitate, glancing back up at her face for approval before moving straight into kissing and gently licking her dripping cunt. Her shaking hand immediately comes to gently hold the back of my head, her long veiny fingers threading themselves into my hair. I eat her out almost teasingly for a few minutes, holding back from sucking too hard or for too long. She seems to notice the teasing nature of my tongue.

“Babe,” is all she says softly, immediately glancing away and looking back at me with nerves. I don’t pause my tongue, I simply look up and meet her pleading brown eyes. Moving one hand from its tight grip on her hips, I run my fingers over the divots and lines of her abs and ribs, making sure she feels it. The newfound freedom of her hip means she immediately pushes down onto my face slightly.

I pull away entirely, earning me an annoyed glare and the sight of my usually tough top girlfriend throwing her head back onto the pillow in frustration.

“Eyes on me baby,” is all I say in a tone far lower than I expected. The warm brown of her eyes changes from sassy annoyance to one of shock and desire when I, without breaking eye contact, lean down slightly and spit directly onto her already wet pussy.

Diving down to clean up my mess, I eat her out with the fervor and pressure she clearly has been wanting. I’m met with a shocked moan and strong arching hips almost fighting against me to push further into my mouth. I lick up and down her folds, concentrating my lips on her clit.

I manage to keep my girlfriends hips down just long enough for her breath to pick up again, her thighs to start to squeeze around my head, and her hand to push me almost painfully close into her cunt, my nose barely peaking out over her warm mound.

Just as she sucks in a gasp of air, telling me she’s close, I pull away. “No, fuck you oh my god no,” she says, pleading. Her hand that was resting by her side comes up to cover her face, pushing loose hair out her eyes and brow. I smile at her frustration, it meaning she felt good. But I can make her feel better.

I kiss the thigh directly to my right softly, a small sign of remorse for my angry girlfriend. “Babe I swear to god if you don’t-“ I cut off her whining by sucking on her clit, hard. Her protest turns into a moan, half silenced by her hand now over her mouth. Gently flicking and pinching her nipples along with my mouth practically devouring her pussy, it’s not a surprise when my girlfriends heavy breathing picks up again, her thighs fight against my tight hold, and her back begins to arch just slightly. I hear a flurry of small curse words mumbled under her breath get more and more frequent. I press on her toned lower stomach gently, knowing the pressure inside her surely clenching cunt might’ve been enough to push her over the edge into pure pleasure. If I didn’t stop my movements and pull away. Again.

She punches the bed next to her, getting more than frustrated now. “Please oh my god I was so fucking close,” she says through spit slick and bitten lips, her eyes almost glassy. Cait rarely bottomed, let alone pleaded with me.

I kiss up her abs again, knowing her frustration at me is only because of her denied pleasure. Clearly she’s sobered up enough now to be vocal about what she wants, because by the time I get to her tits she’s talking again.

“Babe I am so serious what the fuck was that for I’ve been good I didn’t even move that much I just wanted you to-“ by the time I’ve reached her neck, I slide my middle two fingers into her rapidly moving mouth, effectively shutting her up. Despite her anger, Caitlin eagerly sucks on my fingers again, her warm mouth enveloping the metal and my nails. I sit myself atop her abs, maintaining eye contact as I push my fingers deeper that she can comfortably take, sliding them back out halfway before she gags.

I continue this motion until the fire in her eyes has dimmed slightly, showing me she won’t fight me when I slide a third finger into her mouth. My pointer finger however, doesn’t just have her beloved wrap around spoon ring, but a simple twisted band sits past my first knuckle, halfway down my finger. She clearly feels it on her tongue, because her eyes flutter slightly when it brushes far back in her mouth.

Submitting before me, I let myself rest and put my whole body weight on her torso, knowing the strong girl beneath me won’t be hurt by my smaller frame. (I’m totally not transported back to when she made me grind on her abs without any help as punishment for leaving a hickey so far down on her thigh it peaked out her basketball shorts. Thankfully it could’ve been mistaken as a small bruise but she was annoyed nonetheless.)

I decide she’s coated my fingers well enough, pulling out until only the very tips rest inside her mouth again. The pretty brunette takes in large gulps of air, spit dripping out of her mouth with every pant. Without moving myself, I reach the saliva covered hand behind me, and in once swift motion plunge two dripping nimble fingers inside my girlfriend.

Her reaction is instant, finally receiving what she’s been begging for, and so intently focused on. “Oh shit,” she says, I’m assuming mainly at the fact that the rings she’s been obsessing over and asked me to keep on were now inside of her, assisting me inside her tight walls. The pace of my middle two fingers pick up, causing her to arch slightly despite my weight on her torso.

“See? Was it so hard to be patient?” I say slightly teasing, grinding my hips forward to stop her from giving me a sassy remark. Caitlins large hands encase my hips, guiding me slightly forward and backward while I continue my relentless pace inside her. The pressure of her flexing abs beneath me combined with her poorly held back moans and breathy sighs when I curl my fingers up into her g spot were enough to send shocks of pleasure up into me, even through my underwear.

My hand begins to hurt uncomfortably from the awkward angle and speed, but I wouldn’t dare slow my grinding or my movements inside her. I plant my hand on her chest, using it as leverage to push myself onto her lower stomach. My hips now act as external pressure, eliciting a whine from my girlfriend. She turns her head to the side, panting with her eyes shut.

A constant buzz of pleasure fills me, so I decide to add a third finger to further Caitlin along.

“Thank you,”Is what I receive in return, the cool metal of my spoon ring and knuckle ring now deep inside her. My third finger was clearly what she needed to amp up her pleasure.

“How long?” I ask.

“What?” She says, clearly confused and fuzzy from the stimulation. “How long have you wanted this,” I slow my movements, hoping to get an answer.

She meets my eyes for just a moment, but lays her head back again and closes them, licking her lips in avoidance. I press my fingers into her as deep as they can reach, hard. She gasps.

“It doesn’t-“ another thrust, “it doesn’t matter okay.”

I stop my movements all together.

“Answer my question and you can finish, prettygirl,” I drawl, hoping the pet name I knew as her weakness would help my case.

“I said-“ she starts sassily, I begin to pull my fingers out at her denial.

“Wait wait fuck, no okay,” she rushes out, meeting my eyes desperately and trying to reach past my hip to grab my wrist unsuccessfully. I raise my eyebrows, keeping my fingers half out of her, feeling her pulse around the tips.

She takes a few steadying breaths, and opens her mouth to talk while still turning her head away from me. A simple glide of my hand off her chest and onto her chin allows me to turn her to look at me. “I won’t ask again, how long have you wanted my rings to stay on.”

“A while…” she appears to be thinking hard despite her clear embarrassment, “probably since that day in the car.” She says.

I wrack my brain as to what she’s referring to, and recall a late night drive turned quick fuck in the backseat after I said I couldn’t sleep.

She had ridden my fingers in my lap with her hand around my neck, not choking me but it was the thought that I knew she could that did it. She had sat herself atop my thighs, only taking the time to take off my middle two rings before sinking herself down onto my fingers, her own already working me up for my second orgasm. It was a rushed affair full of bitten lips, necks left bruised and seats left stained. Cait had confessed to me while driving that she thought about what it would be like to be rougher with me, leaving more marks and even choking.

This night however, was over three weeks ago, and we had fucked many times after that (many incorporating her rougher thoughts).

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted them inside you,” I whisper, leaning down slightly to take the weight off my hips, but also to force her to keep looking at me.

“Didn’t know if it’d be okay and…” she trails off. I give her a moment before she gathers any courage she has left and finishes, “it meant having to ask you to keep them on, and bottoming at the same time and that��s just- I can’t just-“ she sighs, clearly embarrassed and frustrated.

“From now on I want you to tell me if there’s something like this on your mind, okay? And besides,” I lean down close to her ear, making her breath hitch, “you’re so fuckin pretty when you’re flustered.” I make my point by plunging my fingers back into her, and she gasps before I kiss her neck, sitting back up.

I return to my relentless pace, hoping to actually make her finish after all this teasing and edging.

With all three decorated fingers now seated deep inside her wet, pulsing cunt, I bring my thumb up to circle her clit. The closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a true moan from my girlfriend graces my ears, spurring me to start grinding again.

Minutes into this process, she bucks her hips hard enough to make me gasp. Her thighs start to shake a steady rhythm. Each time I would push back in, her hips would grind down into my hand, and her strong thighs would twitch when I began to pull back out. Her gasps and breathing turned to swears and whines, telling me she was close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, I’m- babe don’t stop, please I swear don’t stop I’ll be good don’t stop,” she repeats a mantra of cuss words and pleas the closer she gets to finishing. Her promise of being good is new, but we’ll come back to that. Her slick is already pouring out of her and onto my stiffening hand.

I wouldn’t dream of denying her again. Besides, she’s strong, and scary when she’s mad.

Her legs bend inwards, head thrown back, mouth gasping and attempting to form words, and she finishing on my hand with a loud whine as her nails dig into my hips. I feel her cunt squeeze around all three fingers, her cum making each of them slide in and out as I keep my steady pace, bringing her through her second -but well deserved- orgasm. Her twitching and clear pleasure sends me over the edge with her, my own body tensing and arching on top of hers.

The thought of what we look like from the outside keeps the shockwaves of pleasure coming.

Finally, I slow my grinding and fingers to a stop, catching my breath a moment before I fall over. My girl looks fucked out beneath me, and I see a single tear track run down the side of her face.

I slowly pull my fingers out of her, which causes Caitlin to open her eyes like it was the hardest thing ever. I make sure she’s looking when I suck her juices off my fingers, going back in with my tongue to get her cum from around my rings.

I finally find the energy to roll off her, keeping my arm strewn across her rib cage as we both catch our breaths. “You did so good baby,” I say, kissing her cheek and moving closer to her warm body that was glistening with sweat. A soft “mhm,” is all I get in return, exhaustion clearly plaguing my girlfriend.

“You gotta go pee sweet girl,” I say softly, moving hair out of her face and eyes. “Of course after fucking me within an inch of my life the first thing you’re thinking about is a UTI,” Caitlin laughs with her voice taking on a rougher note, telling me she was louder than I thought.

“I’ll take it you liked it then?” I tease. “Yeah you asshole, I did,” she says in response, referencing my edging and mean tactics. I smile, kissing her cheek, followed by her temple and forehead. My hands tenderly rub over her stomach and hips as I try to soothe any other aches.

Finally she pulls away from my grasp, heading towards her adjoining bathroom.

While Caits gone, I take off my rings finally, making a mental note to wash them really well later, and slip under the covers, removing my soaked underwear in the process. Her warm body slides into the bed next to mine, her long arms enveloping me in a blanket of comfort, despite our earlier actions.

She speaks first, “I do trust you, you know that.” I wait for her to continue, “It’s just hard for me to say what I want to say, you make me nervous you know.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this fragile confession wasn’t it. I turn in her arms to face her. My hands find her face immediately, her vulnerable eyes finding mine in return. I stare into her beautiful features for a moment, just savoring this bubble of time. “I’ll always be patient with you when it matters,” is all I softly say, hoping she gets my message.

“Besides, you’re always in charge, what’s wrong with me making you nervous for once.” I joke. This makes Caitlin laugh, her hands ghosting over my back. She kisses me softly, melting my body and soul into hers. She’s the first to pull away after a few heartbeats, “I love you,” she whispers into my lips.

I kiss her again before replying, “I love you too, even if you think I’m scary.”

“Woah now I said you make me nervous, ain’t no one afraid of your 5’6” ass.” She says through small laughter. I pretend to act offended, even turning my head towards the ceiling to avoid her.

Her gentle hand cups my jaw, turning my face back towards her before saying, “I love your ass though if that counts for anything.” Her comment earns her a slap on the bicep and a disapproving head shake, even if I’m smiling ear to ear throughout my scolding.

She pulls me closer before I can say anything else. So close it feels like she’s trying to weld our hearts together, my head tucked into her neck and hers resting on my shoulder.

Eventually I hear her breathing even out, and I too join her in dreamland to the thought of how lucky I am to have a girl like Caitlin, even if I’m scary.

[littlediscoveredstars]

Superbat in every smut fic

[bellamyblake]

Bellamy Blake in 4x01 'Echoes'

[bomertheshark]

Scenting

A Clark Kent x top male reader

Short

You worked as a contract assistant for hero’s . Anytime a hero needed anything to be taken care of when they were visiting from out of town or if they just needed an assistant during their personal life while they were out fighting crime. To get into this job you had to have a certain commitment since the pros would divulge personal information about their true lives, which was no laughing matter if you were just going to sell them out.

All of this to say that your newest client was the elusive Superman also now known to you as Clark Kent a writer for the Daily Planet. With good recommendations from your boss and previous clients he decided to hire him as his assistant for around 8 months. He didn’t really want to commit to the full year but it was better than nothing. You waited on him hand and foot for anything he could need. If he needed groceries, needed a tableau submitted, for his clothes to laundered, even to contact other pros for assistance and such. In order for you to be close to him you rented an apartment near him without being so close that it was suspicious. You learned a lot about him at the 6 month mark, He loved being a reporter but hated the people he worked with, a lot of women actually liked him but the most persistent so far was a woman named Lois Lang. no matter how hard he tried to get her off his back she wouldn’t let go. It got so bad that she had started to slightly stalk him to the point where she became suspicious of you and Clark’s relationship. She actually tried to confront you about it saying things like “You should stay away from Clark he isn’t gay like you.” And “Even if he was gay I could turn him since he would never consider you.” None of it bothered you per say since you were comfortable with your sexuality and knowing the rules of your contract even if you liked him you couldn’t be together since he wanted clear boundaries after working with you for 4 months. But you were concerned for Clark just in case you were seen with him as Superman as well and some villain pieced it together, to pull the suspicion away from you both you and your boss decided it would be better if you started meeting a coworker and making it look like you were in a relationship.

Everything was going fine for the next few months even though Clark had become a bit weird around you. He stopped asking for things sometimes or he started asking for a lot from you. You were starting to get slightly suspicious when it all came to a head when he came to you wanting to break the contract. You were slightly alarmed at first but understood that since he didn’t even want to commit to the full year he must not have needed you anymore, no fuss no muss you signed the break and alerted your boss that the contract was no longer in place and that you would be moving back to your previous residence.

Thought something weird had happened the night you were to move out of the apartment, Clark had been watching you closely but not offering to help which was strange since he normally was really nice and made conversation before insisting on helping you move something around. You made a point not to point it out but it still struck you as strange. Once you finally moved back into your place you visited your coworker to tell thank them for pretending to be their partner so that it wouldn’t out your client. Obviously he had no quips about it and sent you on your way with some leftovers after you two had dinner together.

Time passed and you were just going into your room to take your before bed shower. You were startled to see your old client Clark Kent standing near the doorway to the balcony. “Oh God! What are you doing here Mr. Kent?” You said calming your beating heart. “Oh, well I’m not sure I think I just wanted to see you… I’m not sure.” He responded looking fidgety.

You weren’t really sure when he made his was over to you but he was now holding on to you as he was smelling your neck, not aggressively just almost soaking it in before you pulled away, something was obviously the matter. He almost looked like a dog with its hackles raised a look of someone had touched something that was his. “You went to go see them again?” He said in a low tone. You confused responded by asking him what he meant. “That man, I can smell him on you. Did you go to see him again?” He said almost like he was accusing you of lying. “Oh! You mean my coworker! Yeah I went to have dinner with him and talk.” He was not satisfied by this answer as he shoved you onto the bed. “You had dinner with him?! Why would you have dinner with him?” At this point you were really confused, concerned and a tad agitated, your client who broke off the contract found your residence and is now throwing you around while asking really weird questions, fed up with this you full on asked him what he meant by that, why he was in your bedroom and why he just decided to throw you onto the bed. He didn’t answer anything just standing there staring at you.

You changed your position to be sitting on the edge of the bed hands behind you holding you up with your legs spread and leaning a bit back to get a full look of his face. Once this change happened Clark seemed to have some sort of realization before apologizing to you and getting on his knees. “Clark are you okay? Do you need me to call someone for you or something?” This broke him out of his trance and now he was in between your legs staring up at you. Startled you instinctively grabbed him by the hair tilting his head back. He whined from this, he fucking whined. At this point you start to realize what all of this has been, it all made sense now. He was jealous of the fact that you were “seeing” someone else, broke the contract at the realization that he liked you because he wanted to get closer and the night your contract was officially terminated he came to see you hoping to be with you but smelt the very man he was jealous of and thought you were dating.

Once you brought this up to him he confessed and cried to you a little about how he wanted to be with you and wanted you to like him back. This also made you realize that you totally forgot to tell him why you were “dating” this guy and that it was all fake in the first place.

You also realized that your boss totally knew this and probably didn’t tell you to because she knew that the hero liked you in that way.

All of this now led to now where he’s all over you, naked just covering you in his sent while enjoying the feeling of being full from your cock. Everything was exactly as he wanted it.

You’ll thank your boss later for this but for now you have to take care of the hero who was drunk off your scent.

Sorry this one took so long! I really liked just writing more about the time together than the smut.

[frownyalfred]

I've been rereading bloodletting and i gotta say that while i occasionally enjoy a good Brucie Wayne story, it just hits different when Bruce is allowed to be his hyper competent as fuck self

Thank you! I agree. If anything, I think the Bruce in that fic has too much power and competency. So everyone is very lucky he’s as good and devoted as he is. His weaknesses are his children and wanting what is best for his people. Can’t fault him there.

God I love writing Mand’alor Bruce. I need to get back to that fic, thank you for the reminder.

I just got tired of people on here and on ao3 telling me he was so OOC — like yeah, it’s a crossover/fusion fic, of course he’s gonna be different.

[nouearth]

Imagine getting used as a walking fleshlight by Bruce (Bale) and Clark (Corenswet) at the same time. Both high five'ing each other with dark lust filled eyes while Eiffel tower'ing you. Bruce's cock fulls your mouth so well, he then rubs his cock all over your face. Clark's thrusts are the strongest you've ever experienced, his balls slap against you as if they were a force of nature; you're holding onto ass and pulling him deeper inside you while Bruce rams into your throat like it's a fleshlight.

💌 : ugh, anon. my main men! (although i love pattinson just as much, bale just screams... daddy for me.) also, i—for some reason—love it when guys are showcasing douchey behavior when they're fucking, urgh.

for bruce, his cock had never felt so full and warm down your throat before. you could barely take him, but he was constantly peppering you in toe-curling praises so you tried your best to sheathe more of him inside of your mouth because you didn't want to disappoint him, or even clark for that matter.

the thick of his cock pushed all the saliva out of your mouth, drool dripping from either corners of your stretched lips, and as much as bruce loved seeing how much of a mess you'd become, reducing your identity to merely a flesh-light, he would pull his cock out and slide it over your lips to feed the saliva you'd dribbled back into your cock-addicted mouth.

you'd lap him up like you were a fiend for his cock, and bruce recognized that, exploiting your addiction when he'd pull himself out at times to hear you whine—to see your eyes widen with a plea that would drive him mad because they became so glossy. your brows etched with worry and agony as it seemed like he was stripping you away from a necessity to living.

the simple thought that you lived and breathed for his cock turned him on, fed his ego, and then fed yours because only you could make him feel so good like this. he would rub his cock all over your face, slap it across your cheek and nose occasionally, before jerking himself off to the scene of clark fucking you, his balls heavily rolling over your pretty features in midst. he'd then hold your cheeks, rough hands at the underside of your jaw, before he began fucking gloriously into your mouth because he was close. so fucking close.

for clark, the sounds of your gagging and gargling was enough to send him over the edge. with his heightened senses, he could hear every intricate noise that you'd deliciously graced him with; the small gasps you would inhale to recover your breath, only for you to gag and cough on them when bruce shoved his cock back inside of your mouth; the sloppy and wet squelches from the lube dripping from your hole as clark fucked his large cock madly into you; the nasal pitch of the bed creaking, a noisy proof of the men's absolute destruction on your body as they intend to break you.

sex with you was an exception to clark's habitual gentlemanly spirit as you drove him mad, teased him for being a goody two-shoes, for being too vanilla for your liking, and he wanted to prove you wrong. he wanted to prove to you that he could be both sides of the same coin, and if he went far enough, you'd beg for him to be easier on you next time.

he would pull your arms back and hold your two wrists together in one strong grip, allowing the position to contort your body in a way that emphasized the shape of your body. you felt your muscles flex, throb apprehensively because they've never been stretched like this before—stretched past their limits. and clark would maintain this position because he was addicted to seeing how the sweat collected at the dips of your back muscles, then rolled off the hill of your ass when your body struggled uncomfortably to meet his cock.

he was too big for you, much bigger than you'd taken before, and clark would make you remember that. he would instill a sense of fear within you—that you might completely break if he were to completely shove his large cock inside of you if he wasn't kind enough to control himself—restrain himself from filling you to the brim.

and he would also instill a craving within you—one that you'd find yourself thinking about his cock for hours, days, months—because you'll never find someone with a cock, a fuck like him. ramming into you hard yet steady, powerfully yet pacing, large and uncomfortable yet deliciously enthralling as clark would make every stretch soar to your senses, soar to make your throat hollow and dry—at least for the moment before bruce was shoving himself back inside of you. they'd chuckle, sometimes laugh not because you were embarrassing, but because you were so impressive to them that they didn't know how else to react other than with affection and laughter. they'd coo at you, pet at your head, tell you what a good boy you were, and fist bump whenever you deep-throated bruce and/or pushed yourself back into clark until he was balls-deep, until he pressed into a golden spot.

and they'd continue with you for hours, fucking you repeatedly, taking their turns with your mouth and ass, sometimes two cocks in one, and you'd never felt happier than being fucked in this moment. elated when bruce filled your mouth with his own cum; warm and creamy as it sat and spread thick on your tongue—your throat as you swallowed like the good boy you were. then full, when clark came into your ass. he held you close, pressing close to you until you were practically glued to him, and his balls jolted, twitched, and throbbed as he dumped his load in you. you can feel clark's cum seeping deeper into when he doesn't stop fucking into your hole, churning his cum into you until you memorized the shape of his cock, the way his cum spread thick inside of you. then finally leaking when he pulled out to see you push out his thick cum loads on instinct.

hehe, thank you for the imagine, anon! 💗 and now, i'm gonna pretend as if i didn't write all of that and create the illusion that i, in fact, am an innocent man.