#clark kent superman x reader

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Forever Love

Summary: Clark Kent/Superman x Fe!Reader -> Everyone knows you and Clark love each other and despite knowing everything about each other, you both seemed to have missed that shared information. So what happens when Clark overhears something before you're about to get married to someone else?

Disclaimer: Oblivious idiots in love, best friends to lovers, fluff, cute moments, splatters of romantic angst throughout, happy ending, Jonathan and Martha Kent helping meddle...sorta. Set in the 90s Lois and Clark show but can be for any version of Clark/Superman. There might be some spelling mistakes but we're gonna ignore them. Enjoy!

You felt like you were drowning. 

Surrounded in taffeta and organza and another fabric you couldn’t name. For the last two hours, you’d been pushed and pulled out of a wedding dressing room, trying on dress after dress after dress. And you didn’t like a single one of them. 

“I think it needs to be…bigger. And perhaps more veil.” 

You could hear your future mother-in-law behind you as she spoke with the wedding dress consultant and the rest of the entourage she’d surprised you with at ten o’clock outside of the building. 

“No, it’s the beads. Maybe a few more?”

“Ooh! I saw the perfect dress on one of the mannequins.”

“The cream one?”

“No, the off-white. The one with the ruching.”

Under the pile of…whatever fabric you’d been forced into, you sighed. 

“Perhaps you’d like to come back next week?” The dress consultant turned to you before sneaking a look to the rest of your entourage. “We have a new shipment coming in on Sunday. We’ve got an opening for Monday?”

“I think that will be great,” you smiled, touching her arm. 

“Nonsense. We can find a perfect gown today.”

“I think we’ve tried every dress on in the store.” 

Your mother-in-law looked at you and hummed. “Maybe Monday will be best. Right, I’ll call Todd and tell him.”

With a thankful sigh you made your way back to the changing room and kicked the dress to the corner of the room – not that it moved. There was that much fabric, it remained still. 

~~~~~~~~~

“I thought this was meant to be your wedding.”

“It was. It is.” You quickly corrected yourself. “It’s just…it’s not every day your child gets married and she always wanted a daughter. She just wants to…help.”

Clark handed you a coffee. “Do you want me to come with you on Monday?”

You shook your head. “I think that would just make it worse.”

“How?”

“She believes no man apart of the wedding should see the bride in her dress. And since you’re coming to the wedding, and you’re a man, you won’t even get into the parking lot.”

You sighed as you sat down. 

“You look like you could do with a break.”

You nodded. “Understatement of the century. You know, I thought planning your wedding was meant to be…exciting. Stressful, but exciting.”

“Do you want to come with me this weekend?”

“To what?”

“Smallville County Festival.”

Your entire being practically glowed. “Is it that time of year already?”

Clark smiled and you followed him towards your desks. “Yep. Everyone’s gonna be there. Mrs Ingrid is gonna be making her famous jam scones again.”

He was practically teasing you. 

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

You groaned. “I was meant to be going with Todd to this business gala.”

“You have a lifetime to go to them. Who knows, this might be the last year Mrs Ingrid is gonna make her jam scones. Might be the last year they have the hay-bale toss. Might be the last year-”

“I’ll try and get out of it.”

Clark smiled and you felt yourself relax a little. He’d always had a way of doing that to you; making you relax. Making you feel comfortable in your own skin again. 

That’s what it was like with Todd…sort of. 

You’d met him two years ago at the local coffee shop. You’d run into him and spilt your coffee down his white shirt. You’d apologised profusely but he’d laughed it off and said it wasn’t anything dry cleaning couldn’t fix. Then he offered to buy you a new one. You’d debated him for a while about who should be the one to buy coffee for the other. Before you knew it, you found yourself agreeing to go to dinner with him. 

Two years later, you’d finally met his family and you were engaged and everything was…being sorted. Todd’s mother had arranged it all. The wedding planner, the florist, the catering, the venue. And you liked it. Most of it. Some things you wished you could change, but you and Todd had talked. 

His mother always wished she’d gotten a daughter after Todd but she never got pregnant. If some details weren’t to your ultimate liking, was it really the worst thing in the world? 

So you agreed. 

You agreed to lilies and sunflowers at your wedding. 

You agreed to the sixteen extra layers on the cake for the extra four hundred guests that had been invited.

There was already more of Todd’s family attending, than yours, so what was a few extra friends and business associates. A wedding was an opportunity for networking, just as any other gathering. 

You even agreed to her helping you pick out a wedding dress. And she did take your ideas on board. On all the dresses she’d picked out, there was a lace detail in the band. Even if it was covered in bling and diamonds. 

Todd was a great guy. You were lucky to be able to call him your husband. 

“You should go.”

“Are you sure?” 

Pouring two drinks, he placed the stopper back in the bottle. “Of course. Besides, once we’re married who knows how much time you’ll have to be able to visit? Mother told me about a social event that might be right up your street.”

You nodded. “The wives club? Yeah, she mentioned something today. It sounds..fun.”

Todd smiled, handing you the glass and sitting beside you. “Go, have some fun. Clark will look after you?”

You nodded with a light smile. “I can look after myself.”

“Still. You’re going to be the next Mrs Fifth Richest Man in the World.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s Smallville, not Wall Street. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

Todd leaned forward and pecked a kiss to your lips. “Good. I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, too.”

The next day, you were pulling your overnight back from under your desk and following Clark to his car. 

Just as the clock turned ten, Clark pulled up outside of his parents’ farm. 

“Hey, we’re here.” Clark gently shook you awake. 

Stirring, you looked around in the dark. The familiar wooden porch was lit up by the headlights of the car just before it settled back into the darkness as Clark turned the car off. A few moments later, the screen door creaked open and Martha came running outside. 

“Honey, Clark and Y/n are home!”

You smiled as you heard her include you in being home. Truth be told, the Kent’s farm, as well as Smallville, had always felt like home. 

You and Clark had met in the first semester of college. And, after getting caught in the torrential downpour and taking solace in the local library only to get locked inside overnight, you’d found a close friendship in each other. 

That same year Clark took you home. 

You were meant to fly out to England and meet your uncle for Christmas but when he called and cancelled the day before due to his work load, you decided to stay at your dorm. You could get a headstart on the next workload and clean the entire apartment before the new year. 

But Clark didn’t accept your excuse and when he knocked on your door at six in the evening, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He brought you with him, telling you his folks wouldn’t take no for an answer either. And you’d gone back every year. 

“How ya’ doin’, honey?” Martha asked as she hugged you. “Clark, get her bag.”

“Already on it.”

Taking you by the arm, Martha walked with you inside the house. “How’s the wedding coming along?”

You hesitated to answer, but your hero came swooping in behind you. “Mom, maybe we should keep wedding talk to a minimum?”

“That bad, huh?”

You shrugged. “It’s just…not what I thought it would be.”

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a look which neither you or Clark fully picked on. 

“Honey, the kids have had a long drive. Maybe we should let them rest.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.”

“Busy day tomorrow.”

Martha smiled. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Did I tell you I made a new blanket?”

“You did?”

Martha nodded, taking you towards your bedroom. “It took me a while since the wool went out of stock but…”

The conversation travelled away down the hall and Clark and his dad exchanged a look. 

“Son.”

“Not now, dad.”

Jonathan just sighed. “I’ll make some tea.”

After getting changed into your pajamas and unpacking some of your things, you joined Martha and Clark in the kitchen before Jonathan strolled in from the back porch. “Got it.”

Martha took the small jar from her husband before standing and getting a teaspoon from the drawer. Then she handed it to you. 

“Here, this should help with the allergies.”

You smiled and thanked her. She’d been doing the same thing since the first spring weekend you’d spent in Smallville. Martha always swore by a dose of local honey to help with the allergies. And nothing got anymore local than from her own bee hives. 

Just as you lifted the spoon from the jar, Clark dipped his own in and took a teaspoon of it himself. 

“Tastes great, mom.”

“Like home,” you smiled across the table. And Clark smiled back. 

Martha and her husband exchanged another look. 

“Well, I’m glad you both think so. Because I’m selling some jars at my stall tomorrow.”

You looked up at her. “You are? Oh, Martha, that’s wonderful.”

With her hand on your cheek, she brushed her thumb across your cheekbone. “Thank you, my darling.”

It wasn’t long after that you all went to bed. After all, you had a busy day ahead of you. 

~~~~~~~~

It was safe to say that waking up in sheets that smelled of fresh laundry and that home smell that you could never quite put into words, was one of the best feelings in the world. The mattress sunk beneath you the minute you laid down. You were pretty sure you hadn’t moved from the minute you’d fallen asleep. 

With the window on a latch, the fresh air started spilling inside and clearing your lungs of all controlled and forced breathing you’d done in the city. You loved the city, but there was just something about Smallville. 

It was calming. 

In every aspect. 

Waking up, opening doors, talking to people. It was all…bright. Welcoming. 

“Well look who’s awake.” You heard Clark say as you entered the kitchen. Then you heard Martha gasp. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention. I gave one of your shirts to Y/n last night.”

Clark just smiled while you looked down to the old sweatshirt you’d pulled over yourself last night. 

“That’s alright. She looks better in them than I ever do, anyway.”

You were glad you were looking down because the smile and the heat you felt on your face was a new kind of embarrassing. You’d worn his clothes before. And his comment had always been the same – maybe phrased a little differently, but still the same. You should have expected it. 

But he caught you off guard each time. 

“There’s some coffee on the pot if you want it.”

“Thanks.”

Pouring yourself a cup, you sat back at your place across from Clark at the kitchen table. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“I’m heading out in about an hour to set up the stall if you’d like to join me. Then I thought you and Clark could head round the festival. There’s meant to be a show at about seven in the town centre. We can all meet up back there?”

You smiled, sipping your coffee. “Sounds good.”

And it was. 

After your shower, you got dressed and met Martha by the shed. Clark carried most of the boxes to the car, but you and Martha helped. Then, driving into the town as the sun started to warm to the sky, you helped set up Martha’s stall. 

The town was buzzing with people. Buying, selling, laughing, joking, running, talking, singing, dancing. Just like every year, except it always seemed to get better than the last. 

“Think you’ll try out at the hay-bale throw again?” You asked Clark as you both manned Martha’s stall whilst she talked with Josie three stalls down. 

Clark laughed, handing over the carrier bag of fresh fruit and two jars of honey. You passed the change back to the customer before starting to bag another customer’s order. 

“I think the coach still had me banned from when I was in middle school.”

Meanwhile, three stalls down, Josie agreed to Martha’s plan. A plan that both you and Clark came to find out about a few hours later. 

“Your mom’s asked if you can go and get some more boxes from the farm. The way these berries are disappearing, there aren’t gonna be enough to last through the lunch hour.”

You looked around. “But I just got another crate from the car.”

Jonathan turned you and Clark around, pushing you out the back of the tent. “I-I think you both better go. Oh, and make sure to bring an extra box of corn. I’ll get the grill fired up. You know how quickly the corn sells out.”

You both agreed, but you shook your head. “I could have sworn I just carried another crate inside.”

“That was weird, don’t you think?”

“You’re telling me. Come on, we should hurry before the lunch rush.”

However, it all became apparent there was no mystery crate since you had carried one into the tent and the entire thing had been a ruse to get you and Clark back to the farm. 

“Now, please don’t yell at me but Clark was telling me about your dress fittings and-”

“Mom!”

“And I just thought I might be able to help. Now, you don’t have to try any on, but I should tell you Josie is inside and I doubt she’ll let you walk away without at least taking a look.”

“Mom, I told you-”

You shook your head and pressed a hand to Clark’s chest. “No, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to agree.”

You gave a small, yet slightly hopeful, sigh. “It’s okay. Really. Wouldn't hurt to take a look?”

Inside, Josie was running around three different travel racks she’d set up, each filled with different wedding dresses. Each was a different style with different veils and trains. 

“I think I’ve got two of each style and don’t worry about the fit. Martha already told me your measurements.”

“She has?” Both you and Clark looked at her. But she just shrugged. 

“You forget how many times I’ve made you stand on my wooden box when I’ve made dresses.”

You smiled and touched her arm as she linked hers with yours. “Thank you for doing this, Martha.”

She shrugged. “Clark told me how tired you were picking out a dress in the city. I thought you might like a bit of home comfort.”

“What about the stall?”

Martha just waved her hand. “John’s got it all under control. Besides, the Miller’s boy agreed to help out. We can take as long as you’d like.”

For the first time in months, you felt relaxed at the thought of picking out a wedding dress. However, something still panged inside of your chest. 

You didn’t have many people in the way of family, but Clark, Jonathan and Martha had become your family in more ways than one. A small part of yourself had wished you could join their family for real, when you were younger. A small part of you still wishes that now. But it was a young-and-in-love dream you had once. A dream you had to convince yourself to let go before you spent the rest of your life in heartbreak. 

“I-I should probably head back-”

“No, Clark, honey, you should stay. Go on, go and sit on the sofa.”

“I don’t-”

You looked up at him. “Clark, stay. Please?”

He smiled at you. “Okay. But only if you want me to.”

You nodded. “I want you to.”

So he stayed. 

Sat on the sofa, he watched as Josie pulled a dress from the rack and carried it down the hallway and into your room. 

He’d seen some of the photos of you in the dresses your mother-in-law had put you in. The expression on your face, the way you drowned in the amount of fabric she’d put on your head…you looked dejected but he could still see where you were putting on a mask to keep her and her family happy. 

That wasn’t anywhere near the look you had on your face when you walked down the hallway and into the living room/ make-shift bridal runway. 

With his arm across the back of the sofa, Martha watched the look on her son’s face change from slightly nervous to, well, completely stunned and annamored. It was a look she saw often on her son’s face when he looked at you, but never as boldly. 

“Wow.”

One word from Clark and you felt your cheeks heat right up. Out of slight nervousness, you looked down at yourself and smoothed the dress out. “What do you think?”

Clark seemed speechless. “You look…you look beautiful, Y/n. Really, really, beautiful.”

Smiling, you said, “Thank you.”

Finally stepping forward, Josie held your arms and helped you turn on the box to face the mirror before she stepped back and lifted the train of the dress out. 

For the first time, standing in front of a mirror in a wedding dress, you weren’t drowning. The gown wasn’t overpowering or filled with a tone of different fabrics that all seemed to have the same name. 

It was simple, elegant and classic. 

With a longer train, a lace detail around the middle and lace off-the-shoulder sleeves; for the first time in a dress, you could breathe. 

“What do you think, honey?”

“I love it.”

In the mirror, Martha looked from your face, to her son’s and back again. Neither of you were paying any attention to her or Josie. In fact, from looking at you in the dress and at each other, it was as if you and Clark were the only two in the room. 

“I do have a few more options we can try, too. Martha told me you wanted a lace detail. Not all of the dresses have one, but I do have a ribbon of lace to tie on if you’d like.”

You nodded and thanked her. 

As Josie carried your train and you walked back to your room, Martha stayed leaning against the kitchen beam that led into the living room. 

“She does make a beautiful bride.”

“She’s stunning. Todd…Todd’s a lucky man.”

Martha nodded. “He is.” 

Then she paused. 

For years she’d seen the same thing happen after moments like this. The dejected look on his face when he realised it wasn’t him she was with. 

“There’s still time, Clark. You can still tell her how you feel.”

Clark shook his head, pretending to pick some lint from his trousers. “It’s not that simple, mom.”

Martha scoffed. “I’ve told you since the beginning, you should tell her how you feel.”

“And risk losing her in the process? She’s happy with Todd, mom. And I’m happy for her.”

“Are you both, though? Are you both happy?”

Clark didn’t have time to answer because the door clicked open down the hall and you appeared in another gown. His reaction was the same. 

His, and your, reaction was the same with each dress you tried on. 

But it was something else entirely when Josie was searching for the perfect veil, only for Martha to appear from her bedroom carrying one you recognised. Well, partly. 

“Clark, honey, can you help me? I’m a little too short still.”

Standing, Clark walked over and helped place to fastener into the back of the makeshift hairstyle Josie had done. 

“I made it a few months ago. I still had a box of material you’d given to me from your mom’s closet.”

Stepping back from the mirror, Clark watched as you became teary-eyed. 

“It matches perfectly.”

You were doing everything you could to stop yourself from balling your eyes out. For the first time, you not only looked like a bride, but you felt like one. 

Standing with Martha and Clark in the one place you’d called, in your heart, home, you felt like a bride. 

From behind you, Josie captured a picture before Jonathan walked through the front door. 

“Well, isn’t that a sight for sore eyes. Y/n, honey, you look beautiful. A blushin’ bride if I ever did see one.”

Taking your eyes from Clark’s, you looked over your shoulder to Jonathan and then back again. 

Making everything official with Josie, she hugged you and promised to have the dress sent to your apartment in time for your wedding. Not a lot of alterations had to be made, just a seam here and there. 

After that, you walked back into the living room, dressed in your normal clothes. However, you couldn’t help but feel as if you’d walked in on a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, honey. Uh, I think Clark’s waiting outside for you. The show should be starting soon.”

“Oh, okay. Are you coming?” You asked as you grabbed your jacket. 

“We’ll be there soon. Save us some seats?”

“You got it.”

Stepping outside, you found Clark nowhere in sight until you called out for him and heard his voice from under the car. 

“What are you doing?”

“Dropped the keys. Just filled the trunk up with some extra crates. Apparently more people have turned up to the show than expected.”

“Then we better get a move on.”

Arriving back in town, you and Clark relieved the Miller boy from his duty and started to serve the hungry customers of Smallville, together, before going to find your seats to watch the play. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a little after ten, Clark pulled the car up outside of the farmhouse once again. 

“Are you okay?”

It took a moment before Clark’s voice reached your ears. “Mmh?”

He switched the car off completely as he turned and looked at you. “You’ve been quiet ever since you came back after the interval. Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Clark asked again. 

You sighed a little. You never kept anything from Clark. Well, almost anything. 

“What is it?”

“Todd called me.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine. It’s just…we’re getting married next week.”

Clark’s brows furrowed. “But I thought the wedding wasn’t for another two months?”

“It is. It was. But his mom’s put a rush on the dress and an opening has come up for next Sunday.”

Even if Clark hadn’t known you for years, he’d still be able to hear the sad and tired tone behind your voice. 

“So what did you say?”

You opened up the car door and stepped out, Clark quickly following your actions. “I don’t get much of a say. I suppose every bride dreams of having everything being taken care of. All I have to do is show up and look pretty.”

“But?” 

“But I kinda wanted to do it myself. I wanted to tour venues with Todd and for us to pick the perfect one. I wanted to go to cake tastings and talk with other brides. But that’s all been taken care of. And I’m grateful. I really am. It would just be nice to be the one to make the choice every now and again.”

You both walked up the steps of the porch and into the house. 

“Did you tell him you chose a dress?”

“I did. He said he’ll call his mom and tell her.”

“You sound sad.”

You turned around quickly. “No, no. I’m not sad. It…it’s been a long day. I think I’m just tired. See you in the morning?”

Clark nodded. “See you in the morning.”

Then you did something you only ever did when you were practically half-asleep. You leaned up and kissed his cheek. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed other people’s cheeks. 

When Jimmy finally found a break in your case at the Daily Planet – a case you’d been working on for almost two weeks – you’d called him a genius, kissed his cheek, grabbed your bag and went running out of work and towards the local docs to find someone to corroborate the story. 

But there was something…intimate…about when you kissed his cheek. Maybe it was because he always wished it was, or wished that was how you meant it. 

You were engaged, he reminded himself. You were engaged to Todd and you were happy. At least, he thought you were. When you were just dating Todd, you seemed happy. He treated you well, always called you during your lunch break. Some days he’d come to the Planet and surprise you and take you out to dinner. Todd was also one of the less corrupt millionaire tech people in Metropolis. 

“Goodnight, Clark.”

“Night, Y/n.”

Thing was, Clark never went to bed. As he heard your door click shut, someone spoke. 

“You’re still in love with her.”

Looking into the kitchen, Clark saw his mom sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. 

“Does that matter?” Clark asked, throwing his jacket over the back of the sofa as he passed it. He made his way into the kitchen and sat across from his mom. 

“It does when she doesn’t really love him.”

“Mom-”

“I know what I see in her eyes when she looks at you, Clark. I’ve seen it in both of you since you first brought her home. I heard it in your voice when you first told me about her. I hear it in her voice when she calls your name.”

Clark shook his head as he sat down. 

“She’s getting married in eight days, mom.”

“But not to the right man.”

“Mom.”

“Clark, I know what I saw when I met him.”

Martha had met him when she surprised Clark in the city. She’d arrived at the Planet around the same time as Todd when he was surprising you at work. She shared an elevator ride with him before they reached your floor. 

He was well mannered. Let her on first, pressed the button for her, made polite conversation, let her out first, introduced himself when she realised who he was to Y/n. Then you offered to cook dinner. Todd stayed and helped with the clean up. Martha had talked to him. Todd was a great guy. 

But there was that spark missing. 

You were happy. And you loved Todd. And he loved you. 

But neither of you seemed in love. Not properly. 

“She cares for him. She wouldn’t want to see him hurt. But she’s not in love with him. Not completely.”

“She’s still marrying him. If she didn’t want to, she would have said no. She loves him, mom. That’s the end of the story.”

Martha sighed. She loved her son to death, but by the gods could he be a complete idiot. The same with you. You’d both loved each other for years and yet, for some unknown reason, neither of you had ever done anything about it. 

You’d been friends for the longest time, then you started working together, too. Maybe you’d both waited too long, you thought it was too late. 

“There’s still time, Clark.”

Clark shook his head. “I know you’d like to think there is, mom, but I just think it’s run out.”

Standing, he pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Go and check on your dad before you go to bed. I think he’s still watching the fireflies.”

Clark smiled. “Okay, mom.”

As the back door shut, along with the screen door, Martha heard a door click open down the hall. 

A few moments later, you appeared in the kitchen. “Oh, sorry. I was just coming to get some water.”

“Can’t sleep?”

You sighed, picking up a clean glass and filling it with cold water. “Not really. How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear you’re getting married in a week, tomorrow.”

You sat down across from her. “Todd called me earlier.”

“Are you happy about that? The wedding being moved?”

You shrugged. “It is what it is. Everything’s planned. Todd’s mother has everything covered.”

“You can be excited.”

“I know. And I am. Sorta.”

“But you wished you could plan something?”

You nodded. “The only thing I could get Todd’s mom to agree with was the wedding date. But, I suppose it doesn’t matter when or how I get married. I love him – that’s all that matters, right?”

Martha nodded. “It is. But you have to remember, you’re not just marrying Todd. You’re becoming his family. You know, it’s funny. I always thought you’d be joining our family one day. Officially, I mean.”

You smiled. 

“You’ve been a part of our family since Clark brought you home in college and you will be even after you marry Todd. But, I don’t know.” Martha shrugged. “Part of me always wished something would happen between you and Clark. You were always so close.”

You shifted in your seat a little as you felt a small, nervous, chuckle rise. 

“I’m being serious. I would love to have you as my daughter.”

The sadness in your chest panged again. Daughter. Not just a daughter-in-law, but a daughter. A real family. One with monthly visits, daily calls, laughter, stories, comfort, freedom, love. 

Then you heard yourself admit something you’d never admitted out loud. Not even to yourself. 

“I’d love to be your daughter, too. If I’m being honest, I haven’t not thought about it before. But…” you sighed, turning the glass around in circles. “Clark and I…we’ve been friends for so long…it was easier to try to let that teenage dream go than jeopardise losing him.”

Martha just looked at you. She didn’t seem surprised. But she did give you a brief smile. 

“You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question. 

And for some reason, you wanted to cry. 

“I think part of me will always love him.” 

“Oh, honey.”

Standing, Martha moved to the seat beside you and held onto your hands. “You don’t have to marry, Todd.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“But why? Honey, if you don’t-”

“I can’t keep holding onto a childish dream,” you admitted. “Clark will never see me as anything other than his best friend, and maybe that’s for the best. And Todd’s a great guy. His mother might be a nightmare,” you laughed a little, lifting your hand to wipe the corner of your eyes. “But Todd cares for me. He loves me and I love him. We’ll have a good life together.”

“But will you enjoy it?”

After a moment of silence, you heard the clock strike eleven. You stood quickly as if you’d been caught doing something wrong and wiped your eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I should probably- I should get to bed. I’m sorry for telling you about all this. You don’t need to worry.”

“Y/n?”

You stopped in your tracks and watched as Martha stood from the table and walked over to you. 

She hugged you. 

“No matter what, we’re still your family.”

Hugging her back, you said, “Thank you.”

Kissing your cheek, she left you to walk back to your room before she went towards hers. And just as both of the doors closed, the backdoor slowly opened and Clark walked inside, his heart beating faster than it had ever done. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“And you’re sure she said that? Those words? Specifically.”

Jimmy rushed alongside Clark as they walked through the bullpen. Clark hadn’t meant to tell him; he hadn’t meant to tell anyone. It kinda just slipped out. 

“Yes.” Clark pressed. 

“But this all happened while you were away,” Jimmy pointed out. “So what have you been doing for the last three days?”

“Panicking? Worrying? I don’t know, Jimmy. What am I meant to do? It’s not like she knows that I know.”

“She doesn’t? You haven’t talked to her about it yet?”

“What can I talk to her about? She’s getting married in four days.”

Jimmy stood back. “Oh, I don’t know. How about…” Jimmy pretended to think. “Don’t marry him. Marry me instead. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I heard you talking to my mom and I need to tell you that I feel the same way.” 

Jimmy watched Clark as he sat down at his desk. “I mean, I’m just spitballin’ here.”

Clark rolled his eyes and rolled his chair underneath his desk and from the immediate panicked look on his face, Jimmy turned around and found you walking towards your desk. 

“Hey, Y/n. How are you feeling?” 

Once more, it took a moment before Jimmy’s voice reached your ears. You’d been so distracted for the last few days that you’d somehow managed to run into the same coffee cart not once, not twice, not even three times, but four. Clark saved you from the fifth. 

“Uh, yeah. Good, yeah.”

You sat back at your desk and opened up your computer and started typing. Unaware of the chaos going on at Clark’s desk, you continued to make spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes as you typed away. 

Jimmy kept making signals to Clark. Help her. Talk to her. Talk to her. Now.

“Hey, Y/n, Clark wanted to talk to you.”

Then Jimmy left. 

“You did?”

At his desk, the pencil continued to turn over and over in Clark’s fingers. “Uh, yeah. Just…just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You…you’ve kinda been distracted lately.”

“Oh, yeah, no. No, I’m fine.”

“And you’re…sure?”

You nodded, trying to make yourself believe it. “I’m sure.”

“You don’t sound it. First wedding jitters?” Cat appeared behind you. 

“Cat!”

“What? Every girl gets nervous before her wedding. Not that you should be. After all, you’ve got the perfect wedding, to the perfect guy, with the perfect life waiting for you. Hell, if I were you I’d be getting ready to pack my stuff up now.”

“Cat!”

“What? It’s not like she’s going to want anything. Fifth richest guy in the world.”

“Fourth now.” Lois corrected as she walked by. 

Then your phone rang. 

“Hello-”

“Y/n, dear. We need you down at the tailors immediately. I’ve just found some more fabric-”

“This is Y/n. I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number after the beep, I’ll get back to you.”

As Jimmy passed by, you pulled him down and after a silent argument he made the noise. 

“Beeeeep.”

Waiting for a moment, you put the phone back down before relaxing back in your chair. 

“What was that about?” Clark could almost laugh. 

“I can’t take anymore fabric.”

“Fabric?”

“What kind of fabric?”

“What for?”

“For my new-new wedding dress.”

Clark stood and walked over to your desk. “New wedding dress? But I thought you were wearing the one you picked out back home.”

“Picked out?”

“Back home?”

“You have a new wedding dress?”

You looked back at Clark. “I did. And I do get to wear it. At the reception.”

“And at your wedding?”

Looking at Clark, you gave him a look that worried him to his core. You looked fed up and annoyed as you pulled a large binder that was spilling over with hot glued patches of fabric on a drawn bride. 

“Oh my god!” Was the main reaction in disgust. 

“Haven’t you said no?”

“I can’t get a word in edgewise. She just talks over me and by the time I can talk, I’m drowning in thirty tones of organza and ruching fabric. She’s taken over everything. I’ve tried speaking to Todd but suddenly trying to get him on the phone…I’d have better luck sounding for Superman outside of that window and having him hear me than getting hold of Todd. I just…I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I accepted her help because she’s gonna be my family soon but this week.”

Cat looked horrified. “You’re not thinking about cancelling the wedding are you?”

“What? No.” Though you didn’t sound so convincing yourself. “No, of course not. It’s just….I thought this was meant to be about me and Todd. Not Todd’s mother and all the connections that can be made during the ceremony. Please tell me your mom and dad are still coming?”

Clark nodded, a little defeated himself but he hid it well, before walking behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders. “Of course they are. They wouldn’t miss it.”

Under his warming hands, you relaxed for a moment and leaned back in your chair. And for that moment, you let yourself believed that hideous binder didn’t exist and that you weren’t being waited on by a nightmare mother-in-law who didn’t want to listen at the tailors but rather you were planning on driving back to Smallville at the end of the week to visit Clark’s family with him. 

But the ringing of your phone broke that small moment of calmness. 

“Want me to get it?”

You groaned as you sat up. “No, it’s okay. Thanks Jimmy.”

“If you need another beep, just holler.”

You smiled and sat up, Clark disappearing back to his desk with the others. Saying a silent prayer, you answered the phone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And you still haven’t talked to her? Clark!”

“I know, I know. But it’s not like it’s going to change anything. You heard her. She loves him.”

“She cares for him. Deeply. But, Clark, honey. You are the one she’s been in love with. You are the one she’s still in love with.”

Clark shook his head. “You keep saying that, mom, but if she did, she wouldn’t be marrying him. She would have called the wedding off or done something. But she’s agreed to the dress, she’s agreed to the extra hundred guests and she’s agreed to marry him.”

“She’s being pushed to agree and you and I both know that. She said yes to Todd – I get that. He’s a great guy. But she only said yes because she thought you would never feel the same about her.”

“But I do.”

“Then why haven’t you talked to her, son?”

Clark sighed. It was your wedding day. You were hours away from changing your last name and becoming the fourth richest man in the world’s wife. You were hours away from being pushed around by your mother-in-law introducing you to different people with fancy backgrounds and lots of money to spare. 

Resting his head in his hands for a moment, Clark eventually looked back up. 

“Look, maybe she loved me once but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s about to get married. To someone else.”

His dad sighed. “Son, just talk to her. Tell her how you feel. And if she doesn’t feel the same way, and I mean is she truly doesn’t then you know you can move on. But what if you don’t? What if she goes the next however long before she realises she’s made a big mistake and that on her wedding day, you could have put a stop to it all. That you could have both gotten the life you’ve always wanted. Together.”

All of a sudden, Clark’s front door swung open. 

“C.K, she’s asking for you.”

With one final look from his parents, Clark grabbed his jacket and followed Jimmy out of the door. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Clark? What are you doing here?”

Clark looked around behind him and looked at Jimmy as he hung in the doorway. He said nothing. Just mouthed the word: “Talk.” Then he shut the door. 

“Clark? Is everything okay?”

Turning back to you, Clark took you in. You looked beautiful. Well, underneath the layers and layers and layers of fabric. But he already knew that. 

But Clark didn’t have to say anything. Somehow it was like you could read his mind. Something was wrong, but it wasn’t anything material. 

Or maybe it was just your wishful thinking. 

“Clark, is there something you need to talk to me about?”

A million thoughts rushed through Clark’s head. Don’t marry him. I love you. I heard you last week. I wished I could have told you sooner. But then he looked around. It was less than three hours before you were meant to walk down the aisle. You were already in your wedding dress. He could hear a chorus of bridesmaids down the hall. 

He loved you too much to be the jerk who tried to convince you on your wedding day, not to marry a great guy who loved you. 

“Clark?”

He stepped back as you reached for him. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. You must be excited, right?”

You stepped back and put your mask back on. You smiled. “Oh, y-yeah. Of course.”

“Is there anything you need me to do-”

Then he saw it. The mask faded for almost a second. 

“Y/n? What is it?”

Shaking your head, you stepped towards him. You spoke in a hushed tone. “Clark, I-”

The door swung right open. “Miss?” 

You and Clark stepped back from each other, a fraction of the distance from before. 

It was Todd’s mother’s PA, 

“She wants to see you.”

Looking at Clark, your eyes pleaded something awful but you let go of his hand and walked away. 

After waiting for twenty minutes, Clark left the room and headed outside. People were arriving since most things had finished being set up. Some people had found their seats, others were taking pictures. 

But all in all, the wedding was still going ahead. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“I need to tell her, Jonathan.”

He sighed. “Maybe Clark’s right. We should just stay out of it. They’re grown adults. They can make their own decisions.”

“I can’t just stand here and watch her sign her life away to someone who isn’t her forever love.”

“Martha.”

“Jonathan, what if this was me and Clark was you? Would you stand by and let me marry someone just because you thought it was best? Or would you have wanted someone to tell me that the man I loved, loved me back just as much, but he is not the man I was marrying.”

Jonathan thought over the sentence. “But that wasn’t us, Martha.”

“She has a right to know Clark feels the same. Better yet, she has the right to know he knows.”

Jonathan sighed but did nothing to stop his wife from walking away from the wedding ceremony, out of the doors and up the stairs towards the bridal suite. 

She paused for a moment, her husband stood behind her. She had his full support. 

She knocked. 

“Come in.”

Opening up the door, they found you sitting alone at the vanity. 

“Martha? Oh, thank goodness.” 

Standing up, you rushed towards her and embraced her hug as Jonathan shut the door discreetly. “Is everything okay?”

“I…I don’t know anymore.” 

Slowly you walked back to the vanity and sat down on the stool. Martha shared a look with her husband. 

“Well, honey, I…I need to talk to you about something.”

She pulled up a chair with Jonathan’s help and took your hands in her’s. 

“What is it?”

Taking one final look at her husband, who nodded, she looked back at you with a deep breath. 

“Before I tell you, I want you to know that I’m telling you because you deserve the right to know and you deserve a choice.”

“Choice? What choice?”

“Clark knows.” Jonathan spat it out. 

“What?” You turned back to Martha. 

“Last week, when you told me about your feelings for Clark. He was outside and heard everything.”

You didn’t know how to feel. Embarrassed, confused, sad, dejected, hopeful?

“He…he did?”

Martha nodded. 

A few moments passed in silence. “No wonder he’s been so weird this week. God, he heard and now he…he…” Then it felt like a dagger to the heart. “He doesn’t feel the same.”

“No-”

“Honey, no-”

You felt yourself stand and start to pace. “God, how could I be so stupid! I- I knew he never felt the same. I suppose part of me held hope but-”

“You should still hold hope.” Jonathan held you still. “Because he loves you, too.”

You sighed, feeling tears brewing behind your eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to-”

“But we’re not.” Martha came to your side. “He really does.”

“If he does, then why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because he thinks he’s doing what’s best. He loves you too much to lose you. When you think about it, you’ve both been protecting each other for so long…even when you might have a chance, you still don’t want the other to get hurt.”

“Todd’s a great guy, sweetie.” Jonathan told you. “And if you really want to marry him I’ll walk you down there myself. But I think you should think about it before you do.”

Your eyes wandered over to where you’d been sitting before they walked in. You’d had a million thoughts running around your head but the main one was that you would rather be any place else than in a bridal suite waiting to walk down the aisle and become the next Mrs. Fourth Richest Man in the World’s wife. 

“But you shouldn’t just do it for Clark, either.” Jonathan added. “He loves you and will support any choice you make. So will we. But the decision should be for you.”

You waited for a few minutes but your mind was already made up. Your heart had made up its mind a long time ago. 

“Can you go and get Todd for me? I-I think I need to talk to him.”

Jonathan and Martha didn’t know what choice you had made but agreed anyway and a few minutes later, Todd entered with his eyes covered. 

“Unofficially, I’m here. Is everything okay?”

Standing and stepping towards him, you lowered his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

And for an hour you and Todd talked. You both talked over everything. Every feeling, every moment, every opportunity. But your mind was made up. 

“I’m so sorry, Todd.”

He smiled. “It’s okay. We would have had a good life together but…you would have been unhappy. And I think I would, too. Eventually. You know, I looked into that room today and all I saw was a networking event. If I couldn’t even stop my own wedding from becoming a business meeting, what would our marriage look like?”

You nodded and he took your hand. “Just do me one favour.”

“Anything.”

“Well, it might be two.”

You nodded. 

“Get yourself into some more comfortable clothes. Ones that maybe don’t look like they’re about to sink you to the bottom of the ocean if you fell in.”

You laughed and looked down at the extravagant wedding dress you were still wearing. 

“And go and find Clark.”

You looked at Todd. You hadn’t mentioned Clark. Just that you gave your heart away a long time ago. 

Todd just smiled. “He deserves to know the truth, and you deserve to give your heart what it’s always wanted. I wish you the best, Y/n.”

“I wish you the best, too.”

Todd smiled, contently, and kissed your cheek. 

Then you both looked down at your dress. 

“Do you want me to get the chainsaw? I’m pretty sure the gardener here has a spare one.”

“I think all these beads would break it.”

It took a long fifteen minutes to get you out of the dress with Martha and Jimmy’s help. Todd had left and ran into him in the hallway as he was on his way to talk to his mother and announce to the guests the wedding would not be continuing. 

Jimmy had run in a few seconds later with a spare set of clothes since you had nothing but silk underlining pajamas. 

“Whoa.”

“Just help me get out of this thing. I need to find Clark. Is he here?”

Jimmy shook his head as he started to undo the buttons from the side of the dress as Marth tackled the otherside. “No, he left.”

“He left? Where?”

“He just said he was going for a walk. Wait, are you going to find him to tell him-”

“She loves him. Yes. Now, hurry up with the buttons.”

Pulling the crew neck jumper over yourself as you ran out of the bridal suite. There weren't many places to walk near the wedding venue and after asking two gardeners if they’d seen someone matching Clark’s description, you realised where he was headed. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Hopping in the car with Jimmy, he started driving around the city before pulling up outside of Clark’s building. You practically flew through his front door. 

“Clark! Clark! Are you here?!” You couldn’t find him. “Clark? Oh, where are you?”

It was as you stood in the middle of his apartment, spinning in circles, that you heard a small woosh outside. Then a very frazzled Clark came running through the door. 

You just looked at each other. No words were said but a part of Clark was confused – confused at your or the suppressed hope? He couldn’t tell. 

In the silence, he walked down the steps before you ran towards him and hugged him tightly. Your feet were lifted from the ground as he hugged you back, his eyes closing, his senses becoming filled with you. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He set you back on your feet, but his hands remained on you, holding you close to him. His breathing was heavy as if he’d been rushing to get to you, too. 

“I went back to try and find you. I wanted to tell you but when I got there, Lois told me you’d run out.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I talked it through with you mom and dad, and Todd. I couldn’t marry him. My heart was never in it. Not fully.”

Clark just waited. His body was still recovering from the adrenaline. 

“Clark, I gave my heart away a long time ago. I think before I even knew it, too. Clark, I’m in love with you.”

He was silent. 

“Clark, please say something.”

But he couldn’t. So he did the next best thing. 

He kissed you. 

Holding you close to him, his fingertips digging into your skin enough to let you know he was holding onto you for dear life, he kissed you. Your arms came around his neck and pulled him closer to you. Then, finally, as his hand came to the side of your face and the kiss peppered away, his forehead remained against yours. 

“I’m in love with you, too.”

A year later, the runaway bride story was old news and the announcement of your engagement to Clark being made inside the Daily Planet was published as a short story in the next day's edition. 

It had been purely by accident. Clark did have a plan but after Jimmy searched his desk for the extra copies of the evidence papers, he’d found a box and opened it accidently. 

“Is that an engagement ring?”

“Oh, my god, it is.”

“C.K, I’m so sorry.”

He sighed a little. “It’s okay, Jimmy.”

“What’s going on?”

As they all turned, you and Mr White were greeted with the looks of panic on everyone’s face. In Clark’s hand was the open box with the engagement ring. 

“Great shades of Elvis.”

“Clark?”

A nervous smile was being held back on your face. For all you and Perry knew, it was a part of a missing case. But you recognised the ring. It was the same one Jonathan had given Martha when they got engaged. And in the silent conversation between you and Clark across your friends, he walked around Lois and Cat to get to you. 

“No time like the present.”

You smiled, watching as he looked at you for permission before he got down on one knee. Perry ran around you both, joining Lois, Jimmy and Cat. 

“I want you to know, I did have a plan but-”

“Yes. Sorry.”

Clark smiled. “I figured we’ve both waited long enough-”

“Yes. Sorry. Continue.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I promise I’ll wait.”

Clark went to speak but Perry spoke up. “Oh, you’ve both waited nearly ten years. Just ask her already.”

Clark looked around and Perry closed his mouth, whispering a light, “Sorry.”

Finally, Clark looked back at you and had a pleased smile on his face. 

“Y/n?”

“Yes.”

Clark waited a short moment. “Will you do me the greatest honour of, finally, becoming my wife?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’d love to.”

As the entire bullpen started cheering and whooping, Clark stood quickly and kissed you before finally slipping the ring onto your finger. 

Two months later you and Clark got married on his family farm surrounded by your friends and families, in a small ceremony where Martha had helped you pick out a wedding dress with Josie, Lois, Cat and Jimmy– one which Clark hadn’t seen, but one which you loved. 

It had taken almost ten years but as you slow-danced with Clark on the grass, you kissed him. You’d both found your Forever Love and now you had an entire lifetime to share it. Together.

[hanasnx]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[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.

[st4rfckerz]

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

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

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[soangelbaby]

💌 taking it all ; clark kent

𐑺ִ pairings ; clark kent x inexperienced!reader .

you’ve never felt anything like this before. every inch of clark’s dick presses into you, stretching you thin. a deep ache wells up insides you, twisting sharp in your belly. your breath is shaky and your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure filling you. it’s too much—too full, and too intense, but clark? oh, he’s savoring every second of it.

“easy baby,” he coos, his lips brushing against your ear, a deep, molten drawl as he lies on top of you. “you can take it, just breathe for me okay?” his hand slides up your back, fingers dipping into the curve of your spine as he adjusts you against him.

the way his hands grip you, firm and unyielding, make it clear he’s in control. guiding you exactly where he wants you as he slowly slides into you, and you can feel the stretch. the slow, deliberate push of him settling deeper in your gut and it makes your walls clench. your arms shoot up to grip his shoulders and a soft whimper escapes your lips. you tip your head back and he chuckles low, the sound rumbling against your skin.

“that’s it, honey” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i can feel how tight you are. never had someone make you feel this full, huh?”

by now, clark’s deep inside you. his tip barely brushing your cervix, the sensation overwhelming. the sounds of him squeezing your juices out of you, coating him completely in your slick. he pulls back; giving you space to adjust, he watches as he drags himself in and out of you.

you shake your head, a soft whine escaping your lips.

“no... never..” you moan, unable to keep your voice steady. your stomach turns again, an intense mix of pain and pleasure overtaking your body and mind.

“feel me, baby,” he draws out, the words slow and heavy with intent. “you weren’t ready for this, were you? for how good i’d make you feel?” he leans down pressing a soft, sloppy kiss to the inside of your neck.

you shudder at the intensity of his words, your body rocking slightly beneath him. "i-don’t know if i can...” you mumble, breathless and caught between discomfort and the desperate need for more.

his large hand brushes down against your stomach, pressing lightly and the added sensation sends heat spiraling through you.

“shh,” he coos, his voice softening for a moment, his thumb tracing a calming line over your skin. “you’re doing fine. just relax, sweetheart. i’m gonna make you feel so good okay?”

a/n ; this has been chilling in my drafts for so long, i need to get rid of it. so enjoy or don’t ;)

[stargrltara]

𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙈𝘽𝙀𝙍

·.✧ ✦ ✧.·

MDNI 18+

You loved pissing Jason off, you found it amusing watching him cross his arms at you and intimidate you with his figure. His body looms over you like a shadow, he’s massive compared to you. You love when he grits his teeth at your bratty attitude and when you defy him, he puts you in your place. He always puts you in your place.

Earlier, you were talking back to him, drinking all of his expensive alcohol and giving him immense attitude; he threatened to fuck some manners into you, you just scoffed, crossing your arms and glaring up at him although to you it seemed like you were physically bigger than him, like you had more authority. “You couldn’t even make me finish.” you smirked smugly, raising the bottle of whiskey to your lips, almost challenging him and knowing that was his last straw, knowing that your plan was gonna work.

·.✦.·

That’s why he had his thick digits plunged inside of your cunt, your ass rubbing against his hips as he firmly gripped your waist, keeping you glued onto his combat-clad lower abdomen. You tried to hold in your lewd whimpers, but it was impossible since he was shoving his fingers inside of you at a rapid pace, your back flat against his chest and head thrown into the side of his neck.

Your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape, though you kept back your helpless noises, his piercing, emerald eyes narrowing in irritant at you trying to hide your sounds. He quickly pulled his two fingers out, earning a breathy gasp from you as you felt so empty before he brang them up to your lips, his thumb pushing through your swollen lips from all the light whimpers, and he forced his two digits into your mouth. Your mouth opened wider at the sudden action, a pathetic moan escaping your lips as your tongue darted out and sucked on his skin.

“—see how wet you get from pissin’ me off?” he groaned lowly, his voice echoing through the bedroom and overwriting the trickling of the rain slapping against the glass windows. “fuck..” his voice a whisper, eyes widened when he watched your head bob up and down on his fingers, in disbelief at your eagerness and desire for more of him.

The hand gripping your waist snaked down your ribcage, fingertips sending electric jolts through your skin and leaving fire to ignite at its wake. A slap landed on your clit and you jolted, a groan leabing your lips and you shifting against his body, grinding on his abdomen shamelessly. “yeahhh, you love this shit, don’t you?” his voice extended, almost smug and teasing, but also cruel.

You didn’t respond, only repeated sucking on his fingers to get some sort of release but when he pulled them out and slapped your face lightly, you snapped back to reality and nodded. “mm..” was all you could murmur, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

Another slap, and you whimpered softly, “fuck you..” you managed to let out a short scoff, breath hitching and chest heaving. A dry, dangerous chuckle erupted from his chest, and you could tell he was pissed. Not only at your attitude, but at the way you were acting like you didn’t enjoy it, he saw straight through you, he knew exactly where to touch, where to lick and where to kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, low and rough. “I’m gonna make sure you remember who the fuck you’re talking to.” he groaned, sucking in a rugged breath before lifting his hips quickly and shoving you off him, making you fall flat onto the matress infront of you, your face now shoved into the blankets as you could hear the clanking of his belt falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Your bare ass on full display for him, and a harsh smack landed on your skin, reddening by the second. He leaned over you, and you turned your head to glare at his naked frame behind you but it resulted in him interlocking his fingers in your hair and shoving your head back into the matress before he pulled down his boxers, his cock springing up.

“..gonna make sure you remember who I am, baby.” he whispered harshly, a merciless edge to his tone before he thrusted inside you without warning. A moan arose from your throat as you felt his full fat cock inside of you, “that’s it..” he groaned quietly, yet so rugged. His tip nestling itself so familiarly inside of you before he pulled out and started ramming into your right cunt at a harsh pace; deep thrusts hitting your cervix.

“Jay—“ your muffled moans seeped into the fuzzy blanket beneath you, your tears and saliva drooling onto the material. His fingertips dug into your waist, pulling you up slightly so you were in a face down as up position, one hand snaked up the small of your back, gliding up your neck and grabbing a firm ponytail of locks as he pulled you backwards, your back landing on his sweaty chest, your bodies glueing to each other.

“f—fuck..!” your voice was strained, almost worn out and your tits bounced rhythmically as his cock thrusted into you at a delicious new angle, his cock hitting your insides deeper and deeper, each thrust more forceful than the next. Your walls squeezed his cock so tightly, short gasps escaping your lips. His grunts grew stronger, and louder as so did your moans. Your hands flew to grip his thighs, manicured nails digging into his skin bound to draw blood.

He released your hair, instead wrapping his large bicep around your throat; his massive muscles hitching your breathing, lungs feeling empty as he knocks the wind out of them with each thrust. His grunts turned into groans, his hips slapping against your ass, the room filled with slick, unethical noises. “Next time you think about misbehaving..” he grunted between thrusts, “You’re gonna remember how i’m abusing your pathetic cunt.”

You let out a loud moan at his words, so mean yet so arousing, “..bet you cant make me finish—“ you muttered, using the last of your remaining breathe; the repeated words from earlier sent a wave of fire to crawl beneath his skin, but a warm pool to form in your stomach, your arousal dripping onto his length.

His silence spoke louder than words, but his pace spoke even louder when he began to impale into your guts, pushing your body back onto the mattress face down ass up as he gripped your ass, his fingertips left bruising marks. “mmghh..” your moans were nothing compared to the slapping of your skins, and his primal grunts, almost animalistic. “oh ! fuck—!! fu—“ your voice forming melodic, breathy gasps. Sweat beaded at his forehead as he deliberately drove into you without mercy, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

You were growing wetter and wetter, and he knew you were close. His hand snaked down to rub your clit, a lewd gasp rumbling from your throat while his digits flicking over your sensitive bud. “cmon’ baby, give it to me.” You felt his shaft twitch inside of you, the feeling striking electricity to your cunt when your moans grew louder and louder. “shit— I feel ya’ squeezing me, doll.”

“Jay—! Jason !” Your lips spoke his name so deliciously, so lustfully. Your orgasm hit you hard, your moan almost pornographic. Jason pulled you up by your hair to be able to hear the beauty that arose from your lips. He brought you into a deep, sloppy kiss, sparks of electric waved in your loins; mixed drool falling down your lips onto your chin, as he came inside of you. His groans muffled between your lips as you felt his seed shoot into you and paint your walls white, tying your souls together.

He pulled off of the kiss, breathing heavily and giving you last a few gentle thrusts to ride out the aftershocks. Your body fell limp against the mattress, stomach hitting the surface, and he just scoffed, but it was a soft, warm chuckle.

His palm came in contact with your hair, and he massaged your scalp sweetly, before leaning down, his hair tickling your back as he planted small, open mouthed kisses to the spine of your back. His hand snaked up your waist gently, careful not to be too rough, contrasting with his tough demeanour.

“—better have taught you a lesson, hm?” he mutters lightly, head tilting slightly as you huffed tiredly into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut. “..or next time I won’t go so easy on you.”

·.✧ ✦ ✧.·

[littlesoulshine]

clark leaned against the locker room door, his eyes blazing with an unmistakable crimson hue. the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t just charming—it was downright infuriating. red kryptonite had turned smallville’s golden boy into a swaggering, irreverent bad boy, and he knew exactly how to wield that dangerous edge.

“y’know,” he drawled, tilting his head lazily as his gaze slid over you, unhurried and electric, “i’ve got a talent most boyfriends don’t. i see things… things other guys can only dream of.” his voice was low, gravelly, a sinful mix of arrogance and tease.

you folded your arms, feeling the heat of his stare as though it had a weight of its own. “what are you talking about, clark?” you snapped, pretending the flush on your cheeks was from annoyance and not the way he was looking at you—like he already owned every inch of your body.

clark chuckled, a deep, wicked sound, and stepped closer, the space between you crackling with tension. his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, but his posture screamed dominance. “oh, don’t play coy,” he said, his eyes flashing to yours briefly before dipping lower again. “lacy red with a little bow in the front? cute. but maybe next time, try something sheer. you’re hiding a masterpiece under there.”

your breath caught in your throat, indignation and something darker surging through you. “excuse me?!” you hissed, your hand instinctively tugging your skirt down. “did you just…?”

“did i just use my x-ray vision to admire my girl’s panties?” clark interrupted, leaning down so his lips were just a breath from your ear. his voice dropped, husky and unapologetic. “damn right i did.”

your heart was pounding now, a wild rhythm of embarrassment and excitement. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure. but it was hard to stay indignant when he had that smug, wolfish grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“and you’re gorgeous,” he shot back effortlessly, stepping even closer, his body brushing against yours. “seriously, babe, you should’ve seen yourself bending over to pick up your books earlier. let’s just say it made gym class a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“you are impossible, clark kent,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the growing heat between you two. his confidence, his audacity—it was intoxicating.

“impossible?” he echoed, finally pulling his hands free of his pockets and bracketing you against the lockers. “maybe. but you love it.” his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his smirk softening just enough to be almost sweet—almost. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll keep your little secret safe… for now.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Bookworm

Summary: Clark Kent/Superman x Fe!Reader -> Clark surprises you with a library...of sorts. But that's not the only surprise in store.

Disclaimer: This is based in the 90s Superman series but I haven't finished it so no spoilers please. There aren't any spoilers in this, I don't think. I just fancied writing something for this era of Clark Kent. Mostly fluff, Reader works at the Daily Planet and has the nickname 'Bookworm'. Mutual pining, idiots in love, friends-to-lovers, a dash of angst/sad I guess, small mention/description of periods/cramps. Not Proof Read.

…Klara’s latest book provides a new light on what has been a dwindling sector for the publishing industry. In her very first interview for her latest novel, she said-

Typing away at your next article for The Daily Planet, you felt a small pinch to your side before the entire chaos exploded into your lower back, leaving nothing more than a deepening dull ache. 

For a moment, you lowered your head and pressed your hand to your lower back. 

“You okay there, Bookworm?”

You looked up and found Jimmy standing by your desk, a pile of papers in his hand. You tried your best to recover. 

“I’m fine. Just a little pain. What’s up?”

“Publishers called.” He handed you the note and the fax sheets. “They’ve got three new authors and they want you to write about their books. They’re not published yet but an early review from you means more people will probably read their books when they finally do come out.”

Taking the sheets from him, you nodded. “I’ll give them a read.”

You’d worked at The Daily Planet since you’d left University. You’d started out as Cat Grant’s assistant until Mr White needed someone to write an article on a book that had been sent to him. The author was relatively new but he’d decided to give them a shot. 

He had planned on giving the task to Cat, until you walked into the office and found the book on his desk. 

“For all I know, it’s another Cinderella romance but I’d like you to write a piece on it. 500 words? It doesn’t have to be too much.”

“It’s not.”

They both looked at you. It wasn’t often you spoke up when you were in meetings. More than anything, you were quiet and got on with your job. You also had the ability to avoid hitting people when you walked through the office, which made hiring you a lot easier for Mr White than it did hiring anyone else. 

“Excuse me?”

Your weight shifted from foot to foot. “W-Well, it-it’s not a Cinderella romance. I’ve read it. It’s about a woman’s journey returning home after a tragedy. I-I mean, it does have romance. She falls in love with her best friend of, like, ten years. But it’s mostly about her journey dealing with grief, past mistakes and new opportunities.”

Both Mr White and Cat looked at you stunned. But as they looked back at each other, they seemed to have a silent conversation. Then Mr White smiled. Looking up at you, he shook the book at you. 

“I want you to write me a piece on this book.”

“Sir-”

“You’ve clearly read it. Write me a piece. If I like it, and more importantly, if the public likes it…I’ll hire you as a full time entertainment journalist. I’ve got more books than I know what to do with. ‘Course, you’ll do more than just write about books, but…”

Cat looked at you with a kinder smile than you’d seen on her face before. 

“S-Sir, I-I don’t know if that’s-”

“She’ll do it.”

Leaving the office, you followed behind Cat. “A-Are you sure? I don’t know if-”

Stopping in her tracks with a sigh, she turned on her heels and faced you. “You didn’t apply here just to be my assistant. And I’ve read some of your work.”

“You have?”

“You sent in two articles, right? When you applied?”

You nodded. 

“You can do this. Now go and do it.”

Four years later, you’d gained the nickname ‘Bookworm’, you had your own desk and you spent most of your time reading and writing reviews. 

“What is it today? Romance? True Crime? Fantasy?”

Looking over your book, you found Clark Kent leaning on the wooden divider between your desk and Cat’s. You got a promotion, but considering you already had a desk, you didn’t need to be moved. 

You smiled. “You’re back. When did you get back?”

“Just now.”

“Did Lois get what she wanted?”

Clark nodded with a smile as he pulled a chair up to your desk. “And more. I think the janitor will still be shaking from her interrogation in a week’s time.”

You felt yourself laugh a little.

“So what are you reading?”

“Oh,” holding up your book, you showed him and he read it. 

“Any good?”

You shrugged. “It’s a non-fiction lifestyle. Right now I’d rather be fighting dragons on top of mountains.”

Clark laughed. “I’m sure I would, too.”

“But, it’s not too bad. It’s not as condescending as the last one. It’s got a little more science behind it than just someone’s opinion. Did you know the brain is the fattiest organ in the body?”

“I did not.”

“And that we need the healthy fats from fish to help stabilise the cell walls in it?”

Clark nodded, leaning on your desk a little. “Sounds interesting.”

“Those parts are. The others are just kinda…meh.”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go and get some coffee or something. There’s something I want to show you.”

You studied him for a moment. “Show me what?”

“You’ll see.”

Looking at your desk. Your article was finished and you’d almost finished with your book. You could do with a break. 

“Okay.”

“Great.”

As you stood with Clark, you felt yourself lean forward and grip your desk. “Ow.”

“You okay?”

You just nodded. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Clark sounded worried. “Bookworm, you’re looking a little pale. Are you sure?”

Taking a few deep breaths, you stood up straight. “I’m okay. Just…that time of the month.”

“Oh…” Clark didn’t know what to say exactly. 

“I’m okay, let’s just keep walking. It’ll pass.”

Clark nodded and you grabbed your jacket from your chair before following him towards the elevator and out into the city. 

“You know, we don’t have to do this today if you’d rather just-”

“Clark,” you smiled. “Honestly, I’m fine. It’s not uncommon for me. It can just be abrupt sometimes. But I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

You nodded. “Promise.”

Clark gave you a smile and you felt your insides warm. 

It was often like that when he smiled at you. A warm feeling would spread through you, just after a swarm of butterflies had flapped their wings. In complete honesty, you hadn’t noticed it at first. It wasn’t until after the fifth guy you’d been set up on a date with by Cat and she asked you why, that you realised. 

The guy had been…okay. Out of the five, number three was probably the closest to who you’d dated in the past. He seemed a little more your type. But still…nothing. 

“Well, what are you looking for? I can’t keep sending men your way if you’re not gonna go on another date with them.”

“You could stop trying to set me up.”

“But you need life experience! You need someone who isn’t King Lancelot on Treasure Island.”

You smiled. “I think you mean King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. And Treasure Island is a separate book.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “My point is, you need someone who isn’t…fictional. You need someone who makes you feel something.”

“But they do make me feel something. Some books are actually pretty sad.”

A small groan left Cat. “You need someone who can actually touch you. Someone who isn’t just words on a page. Did you not feel anything? Not even for Roger?”

You bit your lip, scrunched your nose and shook your head. “Not really.”

“Not even a single butterfly?”

You shook your head. 

“But he was so cute.”

You nodded. “He was cute…to you. I-I just…didn’t feel anything. He was good looking. Just not my type.”

“Then who is?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. Handsome. I can’t explain it.”

Cat sat back with a sigh but as she looked around the office, she seemed to have a glint in her eye. “What about Clark?”

“What about him?”

“Do you think he’s handsome? You spent a lot of time together? Is it him? Is he why you won’t go on a second date with Roger?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “I didn’t go on a second date with Roger because he spent the entire date talking about how to extract a rotten tooth.”

Cat finally dropped the subject. “Fine. But when you finally want a date, don’t ask me to help you find one.”

You smiled but her previous question played on your mind. Why would she think it was Clark? Sure, he was handsome. That wasn’t avoidable in describing him. And he was smart. And kind. Caring. Friendly. And maybe once or twice you’d wished you’d faked an excuse so you could have been at home, watching a movie with him. 

But was he the reason?

The answer was yes. 

By the time a week had passed from Cat asking you her question, it became apparent. You had feelings for Clark. You always had. Because your reaction was always the same. Butterflies – which you’d mistaken for nerves about being at work. Then he’d smile. A warmth would spread through you, settling the flapping wings before finally you felt your cheeks warm up, too. 

 And you were feeling that warmth again. 

Clark was smiling at you, leaning against a concrete post as he watched you take it all in. 

After grabbing two coffees from the cart on the corner of the street, you’d both walked for twenty minutes before you’d arrived at a warehouse. It looked beaten up, but the locks had been freshly broken. 

Inside, there were mountains of books. 

Old rickety shelving units lined the walls and slotted into places that health and safety regulations would probably disapprove of. In the very centre, there were piles of books. Some, looking at them, dated back centuries. A lot of them were still 20th century, but had enough dust on their covers that could easily tell its own story about the second world war. 

“How did you find this place?”

“A case Lois and I worked on last year called and said they’d finally finished processing everything. They didn’t know what to do with them since most of the libraries don’t have the space for them.” Clark explained. “So, they’re here until they find a new home. But I asked if a very avid reader I knew could have the first pick.”

You looked back at him, a wide smile still on your face. Clark lifted himself from the pillar and walked towards you. 

“I don’t even know…what to say.”

You tried taking a mental image of so many books being in one place. 

“I feel like I’m in Beauty and The Beast.”

“Does that make me the Beast?”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re too handsome to be the Beast.”

The comment slipped from your lips before you could think about it. Even if it was true, the clear embarrassment on your face only made you feel worse. 

You weren’t like Cat or Lois. You couldn’t recover from saying something, no matter how true, very quickly. By the time you had recovered from the initial embarrassment, more was likely to come because you’d then realise the person you’d just said something to had heard you and the meaning. 

Looking away, you heard a small chuckle escape Clark. Then his hands landed on your shoulders. 

“I think it might be best if you start in that corner.” Clark turned your attention back to the books. “I think every book ever printed is in here.”

With a smile, having let the moment pass, you walked over and into the far corner. 

“How was there a crime with this many books that I didn’t know about?” You asked after forty minutes of swimming in the books. 

Your coat had long since been removed and hung on a piece of broken shelf, along with Clark's own, that he had found. Somewhere in the middle of the pile, Clark was piling books together by genre. 

“I think you were away at that conference in London.” Clark told you.

“So what happened?”

“A group of guys had been robbing a few places in and around the city. Banks, jewelry stores, and a couple of storage facilities. Then they’d got wind of a storage facility holding diamonds,” he said. “Anyway, they went down there but when they opened the unit, they found books. Just piles and piles of books. But, they still thought there were diamonds but they’d been hidden. Just so happens, they didn’t realise how long it would take to look through so many books and by the time they’d gotten barely a quarter of the way through, a lady who was walking her dog across the field saw the door open and called the police.”

“So what happened to the diamonds?”

“They were being held at a facility on the other side of the city. But, the cops couldn’t take their chances so had to process every book and make sure there weren’t any hidden pockets.”

You laughed as you looked over at Clark – that same smile giving you a warm feeling. There he stood, surrounded by books, even holding on in his hands, his shirt sleeves rolled, his tie loose and his hair a little dishevelled. But that smile on his face as he looked at you. 

You turned back to the pile of books. “You know, I’m probably gonna be here a while. You don’t have to stay. I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather spend your day.”

Clark just shrugged. “I’ve not got any plans. Besides, I think I’d rather be spending my time with you, anyway.”

You laughed a little, placing one book down and picking up another. “Don’t let my mother hear you say that. She might think you’re in love with me, then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You didn’t see, but Clark looked at you again; a warm smile on his face, but a slightly defeated look in his eye. You said it as if it was a bad thing. Like he shouldn’t be in love with you. 

But he was. 

He had been since you’d turned up outside his apartment, to welcome him to the building, with a fresh apple pie. You’d seemed so much more confident than you had been at work. At work, he’d noticed you. But nobody else seemed to have done. You avoided their every step making sure not to physically run into them; something he himself was still trying to master. You were quiet. In staff meetings, you were the same. But you were always tapping your pen against your pad – until you noticed the noise. Then you’d hold it with two hands. But unconsciously, you’d bounce your leg beneath the desk. The pen would twist around in your hands as Mr White and everyone turned their attention on you. 

But the woman standing outside of his apartment seemed…more confident. Or maybe you just had a quicker escape since you’d been speaking in a hallway rather than a staff meeting with a dozen other people. 

“I-I don’t know if it’ll be any good. It’s a family recipe but my Granny still tells me it tastes different every time. I’m still trying to work out if that means something good.” You finally looked at him as you handed the pie over. “Anyway, I live directly above you if you need anything. Bye.”

You’d gone to run away and make your exit, but he called you back. He thanked you for the pie and invited you inside. If slightly awkwardly, you agreed. But with one conversation, Clark found you warming to him. 

After that, you both kind of became inseparable. It was a quiet friendship; the kind that doesn’t need a thousand conversations to know something. In a single look, Clark could tell what you were trying to say. In a single look, you could tell what Clark was trying to do. 

On more than one occasion you’d saved him from Cat’s grasp. And on more than one occasion, he’d helped you escape a large gathering of people. 

But it was one evening, just like any other, where he let himself accept his feelings for you. He’d rented the next film on the list you’d been given from Mr White. From new films, to older ones. 

“There’s a whole range of ages reading our papers, Y/l/n. Even if the movies have been out for years, I want a piece to put in the paper. Capture the kids' attention. Let them know about real movies.” Of course, Mr White had given you a list of Elvis films alongside the list from the local movie theatre. 

But, as you and Clark sat watching Annie, you’d fallen asleep. Laying beside him, your head on his shoulder, he lifted his arm behind you and pulled the blanket down over you. You’d had a busy day at the paper and seemed ready to fall asleep before you turned up at his apartment. But the feeling in his chest when he looked down at you, cuddling into his side…his mind thought, for a moment, that it was a routine. That you lived together, that each night would be the same. You by his side, him by yours. 

He couldn’t deny the feelings he had for you then. 

And he couldn’t deny them now. 

“Would it really be that bad?”

“What would? My mother?”

“Me being in love with you?” Clark waited to see your reaction. 

You laughed. 

Not mockingly. But you laughed. 

You didn’t believe him. 

“Funny,” you told him. Then you stood, holding another book in your hand. Clark watched as you stood and started completing the new obstacle course you’d accidentally laid out for yourself as you made your way over to him. “But seriously, my mother would never leave me alone. She’s convinced that if I don’t get married soon, I never will. You know, I think if she could, she’d hand my face out on a leaflet on the street to take auditions.”

As you climbed over the loaded pile of books, your foot slipped. But you never hit the ground. Some of the books slid to the floor, but you remained on the pile, Clark’s arms around you. 

Holding onto his arm, you looked down at the sliding books and back at him. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Clark gave you a light smile, his eyes scanning over your face. “What if I wanted the role?”

“What?”

“You said your mom would hold auditions.” Clark pointed out. “What if I wanted the role?”

It took you a minute before what Clark was telling you registered in your brain. 

Standing once more, but Clark still holding you steady, your eyes remained fixed on him. You shook your head. “Clark, you don’t…you shouldn’t date me.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Clark felt himself laugh. ‘Because’  has never been a real reason. “Because what?”

“Because…” You racked your brains for an answer he would accept. “Because you shouldn’t. You should be with someone…with someone…with someone like Lois. Or Cat.”

He tilted his head a little. “Please tell me you heard yourself, too.”

“Okay, maybe not Cat. But Lois. Or Jill.”

“From accounting?”

“She’s nice. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Everything you deserve.”

“Y/n, you’re beautiful, smart and funny.” Clark told you. “And you’re kind and caring.”

“Clark.”

Clark felt something drop inside of him. “If it’s because you don’t want to, then I’ll understand.”

But you were quick to deny that. “No,” you shook your head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

As you stood there, his hands holding your steady, your own on his arms, you looked at him. Clark had been the one person you’d been able to tell anything to. You trusted him more than you trusted anyone. Even from the beginning. 

So why couldn’t you trust him with the truth now?

“I’m scared, Clark. This…this scares me.” You finally admitted the truth to him. “I’ve had relationships before and they’ve all found a reason to leave. I don’t want you to leave, too.”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“You can’t promise that.”

Then he said something that struck you deep into your soul. “Actually, I can.”

You looked at him as if he had two heads, but he just chuckled, holding you a little closer. “Anyone who has ever left you, have been complete idiots. You are truly incredible, Y/n. And I have been in love with you longer than I think even I realise. But despite that, you’re my friend first, Y/n. And I don’t want to lose that either.”

Looking at you, Clark told you the complete truth. 

“So when I tell you I can promise you I won’t leave, please know that I mean it. And I mean it, too, when I tell you I love you. In more ways than one.”

You smiled. 

In his chest, Clark felt a bright light shoot through him and warm his entire being. Leaning forward a little, you hugged him. And he hugged you back. 

Leaning back and looking at him again, you spoke. 

“Can we start towards the beginning?”

Clark nodded and smiled. “Y/n, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“I’d love to.” 

Like a breath of fresh air was being kicked into his lungs, Clark smiled a little wider. But then you surprised him. You kissed his cheek. 

This time, it was his moment to slip a little. But in a rush, you gripped onto him as he caught himself. Then you got an idea. 

“You don’t suppose this could be classed as a first date, do you?” You looked around you before looking back at him. “I mean, I know it’s a warehouse and it’s filled with dusty old books, but I guess the lighting is kinda dimmed? And we’re surrounded by history so it’s kinda like a library-museum thing? Unless there’s classification for something to be a date. There’s gotta be a book in here somewhere that tells us.”

Clark chuckled a little as he watched you. “I think I’d like to class this as our first date, too. Besides, we can always get dinner after this.”

You nodded. “Though, to do that, we should probably get off these books.”

Clark looked down. “Right.”

Carefully, he helped you down the cascade of books before your heels finally hit the concrete ground and with a soft landing, he landed beside you. 

It was another two hours before you both got food – the pizza guy, it was safe to say, was rather confused to turn up at a warehouse but he appreciated the tip and the gift copy of one of his sister’s favourite books. 

Yourself and Clark spent most of the night inside the warehouse before he helped you place your reserved books to the side. The next day, you both returned with your car and a pile of boxes to help carry them away. You’d barely made a dent in the pile, but considering you had access to the pile until the local libraries needed extra copies, you could spend as long as you liked going through them. 

Picking out some of the multiple copies with broken spines or torn covers, you took home and fixed them. And, six months into dating, you came to find Clark’s unique strength had its advantages as working as a temporary clamp. 

“This is why you agreed to date me, isn’t it?”

You gasped a little. “You’ve discovered my secret. Well, now that it’s out in the open, you should know I also agreed because you gave me a historical library.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your lips but you pulled him back in for a second. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[hanasnx]

Not that I’ve thought about it but I just want clark to fuck me into the mattress after a fight, like legs up on his shoulders and all and then him being condescending and stuff, definitely red k Clark

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Not much—mm—to say now, huh?” RED!CLARK KENT grills you through his own grunts of effort, big hands clamped on your hips to stay in control of your movements. “Nothing for that shrill little voice to nag about ‘cept how hard I’m going.” Sharply, he exhales through his nose just as you gasp, his tip cutting a little too deep, shocking you at the touch of your cervix. It’s the position, it just makes it too accessible. Your feet bob next to his head with every sheathe while he keeps you folded over yourself with his weight.

“You are going too hard—!” you complain, but it’s just to get at him. Rough fingers press into your flesh, and you cry out as he uses your words against you.

“See what I mean?” he remarks, and the smirk in his lips exposes one of his famous dimples. Curtly, he adjusts you, propping himself up over you so he can lay his body over the backs of your thighs. It raises your hips naturally, makes the fit a little more comfortable. At the sight of your fluttering eyes, he leans in for a kiss, sucking on your pliant lips while the sounds of sex fill the room. He lets off with a pop, but murmurs against your mouth, “No matter how much we fight,” that irresistible Clark Kent charm shines through in his grin, flaring up your irritation at how easy it is for him to get you to forgive him. His head nods up. “Your ankles always have a place on my shoulders.”

[sunsburns]

clark kent and those damn glasses (18+)

one of the most endearing things about clark is his glasses. and it’s not just the frames themselves—it’s the way he wears them.

they’re charmingly imperfect, a little too big for his face (funny since he’s already so huge), the wide frames sitting just slightly askew over his eyes. they’re always slipping down his nose when he’s focused on work, and you adore the way he absentmindedly pushes them up with his finger.

it’s such a dorky gesture, pressing his pointer finger to the bridge and nudging them back into place, sometimes scrunching his nose without even realizing it.

his glasses are rarely ever straight. they always seem just a little crooked, as if they have a mind of their own. you find it endlessly charming, especially when he’s flustered, rushing to adjust them in the middle of a conversation.

and the way his glasses fog up? it’s honestly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. in the winter, it happens all the time, especially when he’s bundled up in one of those thick scarves his mom knitted for him. he doesn’t just wear them; he practically swaddles himself in them, wrapping them up so high they cover half his face, his chin tucked snugly inside.

and it wasn’t like he needed them, that man never really gets cold.

but when the cold air meets the warmth of his breath trapped behind the scarf, his glasses fog over completely.

and he doesn’t even notice right away.

“oh,” he’ll mumble, sheepish, pulling the scarf down just enough to blow warm air into his hands or wipe the lenses with his sleeve. and you can’t help but stare, heart melting a little more at how utterly unassuming he is.

but the best part is when they fog up because of you. when you kiss him—really kiss him—the lenses go misty, blurring the edges of his face until all you can focus on is how soft his lips feel against yours.

you tease him about it sometimes—“superman can’t even keep his glasses clean?”—but the way his ears turn red when you say it makes you kiss him again, and again, and again. and every time, he’s the same—pink-cheeked, slightly embarrassed, and completely perfect. sometimes he won’t even bother cleaning them, his hands sliding back to your waist, pulling you closer, because really, all he wants to see is you.

all he wants to feel is you.

clark kisses like the end of the world is coming. his lips are parted, hands everywhere—gripping your waist, cradling your face, sliding down your back as if trying to memorize the shape of you. his mouth slots against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. and when his knee nudges between your legs, he waits—waits for that gasp, that little sigh you can’t hold back—before slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste more of you, to pull you even closer.

and then there’s the glasses. sometimes, more often than not, you’re the one reaching for them, fingers brushing over his temples, trying to fix them on his face when they’ve slid down his nose. he’s too caught up in you to notice or care, but you can’t help yourself. it starts as a simple gesture—your hands reaching for his face, for his hair, for anything you can anchor yourself to. you nudge the glasses back into place, only to watch them fog up again as he groans against your mouth, his breath hot and heavy between kisses.

and sometimes, clark forgets to take them off when things get messy. one kiss turns into another, and another, until clothes are being pushed aside, his hands roaming, touching, claiming. his lips trail lower, over your jaw, your throat, your stomach, until he’s kneeling before you, arms wrapped tight around your thighs, his mouth hot and relentless against your cunt.

his glasses are still there, perched on his nose, slightly crooked but somehow still clinging on. the lenses catch the faintest glint of light, fogged over from his breath, smudged from the mess he’s making of you. his tongue drags through your folds with deliberate precision, teasing and tasting, and when his nose nudges your clit, you jolt, a whimper spilling from your lips.

“oh, baby,” you gasp, voice shaky and half-laughing when he moans at the sound of you calling him ‘baby’. the vibration travels through you, making your thighs tremble in his grip. his free hand slides up the outside of your leg, fingers splaying over your skin before grabbing a handful of your ass. he uses the grip to rock you against his mouth, his tongue dipping into you again and again, insistent and unrelenting. every movement, every touch, feels deliberate—he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s determined to ruin you.

his glasses slip further down his nose, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause to fix them. his focus is entirely on you, on the way you’re gasping and squirming, your hands tangling in his hair, your hips bucking against his face. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you fill the air, and you’re half-delirious with pleasure, your body trembling as he pushes you higher and higher.

it’s only when you’re shaking, your thighs trembling around his head, that he finally pulls back. his face is flushed, his lips shiny and swollen, and those damn glasses—crooked, foggy, and smudged—still cling to his nose. he grins at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before finally pulling the glasses off and tossing them aside.

he rolls his eyes at your sad whine once they’re gone.

you’ve always liked his glasses for some reason.

[dollfacefantasy]

redk!clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, extremely dubcon, gunplay

"you're shaking so hard, baby," clark croons from below you. his lips have split into a lazy grin as he watches you bounce up and down on his lap.

"cause you're scaring me," you whimper in return, bottom lip wobbling and tears brimming at your waterline.

it's a partial truth. multiple factors are responsible for your glossy eyes and quivering thighs. anxiety from your boyfriend's recently developed attitude. bliss from the way you're taking his cock to the hilt. terror from the cool, metal pistol digging into your hip.

none of it matters to him though. he wasn't asking in earnest. only to tease. you might be scared out of your mind, but this is the most fun clark's had all week.

he laughs at your assertion, raising his brows in feigned disbelief. "you're scared?" he asks, "is this what you do when you're scared? you pull your panties off and ride the first guy who offers?"

your mouth opens to answer, but he suddenly bucks his hips, silencing any words you had and nearly knocking you off balance in one go. his free hand keeps you steady on top of him. he only needs the one to handle you.

“or maybe i’m special? is that it? i hope so,” he mocks.

whimpers fall from your lips as he continues fucking into your warm hole. wet squelching sounds fill the air around the two of you.

“you told me to! you didn’t give me much of a choice,” you sniffle in defense of yourself. your teary eyes fall to the weapon at your waist to emphasize your point. you don’t even know where he got it from or why he feels the need to aim it at you.

“only cause i could smell your little cunt dripping for me as soon as i walked in the room,” he says, squeezing your hip.

his palm spreads out on your hip before sliding to your back and pulling you down. you collapse onto his chest, your back arching at an awkward angle. the position doesn’t slow him down any. he keeps drilling up into you like he’s being timed.

pathetic whines spill from your lips as you gush around him. frightened as you are, it’s still clark with his cock that fits so perfectly inside you. your fingers clutch at his meaty biceps, nails digging into the skin.

he smiles at your growing cooperation and nuzzles at the side of your hair.

“it’s ok if you wanna blame me, baby. you play the perfect victim,” he breathes.

[st4rfckerz]

clark’s 6’3 soooo yk 🙂‍↕️

“Been waiting all night for you, you know that?” As you pulled your shirt over your head, Clark's hands were already working at the buttons of his own shirt. He settled between your legs, the heat of his bare skin pressing against yours. He positioned himself at your entrance, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control. With a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, stretching and filling you completely.

A guttural moan escaped his lips at the sensation of your tight cunt enveloping him. He paused for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intensity of the connection. Then he began to move, setting a relentless pace as he drove into you again and again. Clark's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he claimed you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. His lips found yours once more, kissing you deeply, hungrily, as if trying to devour you whole.

Clark leaned back, pulling you with him as he shifted positions. He brought your hips up, angling your body so that he could drive deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each powerful thrust. The new position allowed him to watch your face, to see the pleasure etched on your features as he claimed you. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he pounded into you with increasing intensity.

“You're so pretty like this, so perfect.” He could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps. Clark's hips slowed slightly as he felt your body strain beneath him. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Do you need me to stop?”

You shook your head, your breath coming in short gasps. “No, don't stop,” you managed to say. “It's just...so much.” A slow, satisfied smile spread across Clark's face.

“Takin’ me so well,” he panted, his hips picking up the pace once more. “Look at how deep I am.” His eyes ogled down to the bulge his cock was creating in your belly. With a low groan, he pressed his hand against it, feeling the hard length of himself moving within you.

His thrusts became more deliberate, more focused, as he chased his release. His hand remained on your belly, feeling the way your body yielded to his, taking every inch of him. “Give it to me baby, I wanna feel you cum.”

Clark felt your body clench around him, your inner walls pulsing and contracting as you reached your orgasm. Your cry of his name echoed in the room, a sound of pure ecstasy that made his dick twitch inside of you. Your release triggered his own, and with a final, powerful thrust, Clark buried himself deep inside you. His body tensed, his muscles coiling tight as he spilled thick ropes of cum deep within your aching cunt.

Clark rolled off of you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He couldn't help the slick smile that spread across his face as he lay beside you, his eyes stared up at the ceiling.

His mind reeled back to the bulge he created in your tummy and the way his hand had pressed against your skin, feeling himself inside you. The affirmation wrapped around him like a warm coat, feeding a part of him he rarely acknowledged. He wasn’t one to dwell on vanity, but in that moment, he couldn’t help himself.

For once, he let his ego revel, if only for a little while.

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go