#clark kent x reader

[sunsburns]

your alien boyfriend is just so alien in the sense that his anatomy is just slightly different and off putting but you kinda love it.

you’ve noticed his heartbeat doesn’t really sound like a heartbeat, and he’s so fascinated by the way yours beats so rhythmically.

or maybe his irises get slightly wider than a normal person’s would when he sees something he likes, making them seem darker than what they usually are.

he doesn’t drink, like at all, which is fine, but he tells you it’s because alcohol doesn’t effect him. you think he’s just realizing he’s a heavy weight but you’ve seen him take ten consecutive shots back to back and not even flinch once. but funnily enough he does act a little tipsy at the smell of your perfume.

he’s also weirdly light on his feet. like, you can barely make out his footsteps half of the time and he tends to scare you sometimes because of it. you can only tell when he’s approaching is if the door creaks, or he knocks something over or he trips on his own feet or something along those lines.

he can also hold his breath for an concerningly long period of time. whenever the two of you are at the beach or the pool and he dives in, he spends an uncomfortable amount of time underwater. and when you start to worry, even the lifeguard (if there is one) starts to blow their whistle, he resurfaces casually, barely breathless.

he also kisses you like he doesn’t really need oxygen to breathe, it’s almost as if he can breathe through you, quite literally taking the breath from your lungs. he’s always looking at you like a kicked puppy whenever you pull away, telling him you need a minute for air. he doesn’t really get that you don’t breathe the same way he does.

[kitkatscabinet]

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND

Pairings: Wally West, Roy Harper, Conner Kent, Clark Kent x fem reader. Platonic batfamily x sister reader.

Summary: Your brother finds out you’re dating his best friend. It goes about as well as you’d think.

A/N: Nsfw themes 18+, minors dni

WALLY WEST & DICK GRAYSON

"Can't wait to see you later baby <3"

Dick stares at the text from Wally, a frown on his face as he tries to recall if they'd made any plans. Though baby was definitely an odd new term of endearment from his best friend. After spending a few minutes wracking his mind and deciding he hadn't forgotten any important plans, he replies:

"What are we doing later?"

He sees the dots indicating Wally's typing

"Why would you assume that was for you?!"

Dick's frown deepened, if that wasn't for him, then who was monopolising his friend's time? More importantly, who was he calling baby?

“Who’s it for then? :((" He conveniently gets left on read.

"Wally!"

"WALLACE RUDOLPH WEST!!"

His messages turn green. That annoying little fuck! Did Wally just block him? Oh, this was so far from over.

If Wally thought Dick was going to just let this go then he was sorely mistaken.

Dick was a man on a mission, determined to catch Wally with his new partner. Only, the redhead suddenly seemed to be a master at avoiding him. It was driving him insane, but Dick was a dog with a bone and this was the one thing he was never going to let go.

He's so focused on his hunt for the perp, that he doesn't notice the clues right in front of his face. The way you seemed so amused whenever he whined or ranted to you or the way you reached for your phone to send Wally a heads-up text. Or the second toothbrush in your bathroom or the men's hoodie slung over the back of your desk chair.

You were starting to feel a little bad, and you'd finally convinced Wally to let Dick in on your secret when the beans get accidentally spilled, in the Titans group chat of all things.

You were texting Wally privately, looking away from your phone the exact second you accidentally clicked on the notification taking you to a different chat, not noticing until it was far too late.

TheSexiestBat: I love you, idiot. Even if you leave dirty dishes in the sink like a war criminal <3.

SpeedyGonzalez: and I love YOU even if you steal the blanket every night 😘

WingDing: BLANKET. EVERY. NIGHT?

LeanMeanGreenMachine: They sleep together. They sleep. Together. They’re sleeping. TOGETHER.

That'sSoRaven: It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Except I live in the car and the driver is texting.

Pwincess: Shall we begin making couple name suggestions now?? WalliBat? BatAlly? SpeedWayne?

SpeedyGonzalez: SpeedWayne kinda goes hard not gonna lie

TheSexiestBat: oh god oh GOD wrong chat WRONG CHATTTTT

WingDing: WALLY.

SpeedyGonzalez: it was gonna be a soft launch 😭

LeanMeanGreenMachine: BRO WE JUST GOT HARD LAUNCHED INTO ORBIT

SpeedyGonzalez: So like are we officially telling everyone now? Should I change my bio to “taken by the most gorgeous woman on the planet?"

WingDing: BLOCKED REPORTED BANNED EXCOMMUNICATED FROM THE GROUP LEAVE THE TITANS AND THE PLANET

TheSexiestBat: I'm erasing myself from the narrative :D

TheSexiestBat has left the chat.

SpeedyGonzalez: in my defense your sister is hot and emotionally stable and laughs at my jokes. She's literally the perfect woman.

WingDing: Count ur days West.

That'sSoRaven: I call dibs on the funeral playlist I’m thinking something upbeat. “Dumb Ways to Die” maybe?

Dick screams so loud his neighbours call the cops, fearing he'd been murdered.

Meanwhile you and Wally decide it might be time to give up texting.

ROY HARPER & JASON TODD

It’s been a long night. He’s tired, cranky and covered in mud and blood. He also might be nursing a concussion. Whatever the case, he was ready to crash and Roy’s place was closer than any of his.

He stumbles through the window with a thud, uncaring of the noise he's making. Roy's always been a heavy sleeper. Still, it's a bit disconcerting when he doesn't come to investigate the noise.

Ok, that was a little concerning; what kind of vigilante slept through a potential break-in?

He's just checking his friend's not bleeding out or dead, is what Jason tells himself as he throws back the covers on Roy's bed. Flicking the lights on with an amused laugh that quickly turns into a horrified scream at the sight of his friend, naked, an arm wrapped around his chest from behind.

"Dude, what the fuck?” You croaked, lifting your face from Roy’s back to blink blearily at whoever had interrupted your sleep. Jason's scream turning into a stream of scandalised expletives at the sight of your face.

"Seriously?! MY SISTER, ROY? MY ACTUAL SISTER?!"

"Jason, I swear to god, you better—" you grumbled, still half asleep as you tried to hide your face against the back of your barely conscious boyfriend.

"I better what? Calm down? Don't you dare tell me to CALM DOWN. My SISTER! MY SISTER and my BEST FRIEND!" He shrieks, tugging at his hair as he paced restlessly. Suddenly, he whirled on Roy, grabbing the man's shoulders. "How could you do this to me?"

"You’re talking like I’m the one who got into her bed. She climbed in here herself, dude." Roy mumbled, still sleep-laden and beyond over the situation already.

"You—YOU—climbed into his bed?!"

"I mean yeah? This is Roy's apartment." You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, ignoring his unintelligible stutters.

"Quit clutching your pearls Jay, we're both adults." The scandalised gasp he lets out, hand clutching his chest is one you'd remember forever.

You finally sit up, making him screech and cover his eyes, blindly trying to throw his jacket at you. "Cover them up, you slut!"

"I dunno, Roy likes when my tits are out. Don't you honey?" You mock, relishing in the way Jason's ears turn bright red behind his hand.

Roy hums in agreement before remembering exactly who was standing before him. Your very overprotective brother, who had some very real guns.

"You know, Jase, you’re acting like I’m a bad influence on your sister, but" he turns to look at you, making you melt a little "—who could resist? She’s a catch, man."

"Did you just flirt with my sister in front of me?!" He takes his hand away from his eyes only to nearly run into the doorframe when he realises you're still naked.

"Jason give it a rest." You snickered, finally pulling on the jacket he'd thrown at you, your brother turning around at the sound of the zipper. "Besides. I've known him for longer than you."

Jason sputtered, arms crossed over his chest in extreme offence. "Well, I know him better!"

You let out a screech of outrage, smacking Roy's chest. "Baby! Tell him he's wrong!"

Roy simply turned and buried his face in his pillow, wondering if it was too late to break up with both of you.

CONNER KENT & TIM DRAKE

It wasn't exactly out of the norm for Tim to call you down to the Batcave, he often did so when he was having trouble with a case. But there was something different about the text he'd sent you. It was short and sharp, with perfect grammar and spelling, and most telling, no emojis. Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

The sight of your very much still secret boyfriend standing behind Tim with his arms crossed is enough for your stomach to sink. Luckily, years of exposure to your family's bullshit had let you perfect the art of the poker face.

"Kon? What are you doing here?" You try to remain calm; Kon visits Tim all the time; they're best friends. Yet you can't shake the sinking suspicion that starts to settle in your gut. Just as your boyfriend's about to answer, Tim swivels in the large chair facing the bat computer like a cliche supervillain.

"Now that we're all here, we can begin."

You almost don't want to ask, "begin what?"

Tim's fingers are interlaced in front of his stone-cold expression as the monitor whirs to life, showcasing a PowerPoint slide titled 'Evidence'.

"Evidence of what?" You sigh.

"Of you two dating."

"Tim," you sigh in exasperation, "you're being ridiculous."

Conner, however, is as convincing in his denial as a little girl with lipstick all over her face, swearing she didn't touch Mum's makeup.

"So we're doing this the hard way. Are you ready?"

"Tim, we really don't need - "

"Yes." You throw an incredulous look Conner's way.

"What?" He shrugs, "Kind of seems like he put a lot of effort into this."

"I did." Tim confirms.

"Oh for fuck's sake, fine, Kon and I are dating." You exclaim, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

"Thank you for your honesty, we can skip ahead a few slides." Tim nods serenely, flicking through an absurd amount of slides until he stops on.

"What this means & the consequences"

“Breakup = emotional devastation = forced to choose = loss of sibling"

“They work out = I have to hear them be gross for eternity???”

“Bruce finds out = He kills Kon = I lose my best friend.

"Hold on, you'd choose Conner over me if we broke up?" You squawk in offence.

"Obviously. No offence, babe, but we are best friends." Conner grins and you turn your mutinous glare on him.

"You're sleeping on the couch for a week." You hiss, watching in satisfaction as his grin evaporates.

"Wait, you're sleeping together?!" Tim shrieks, reaching for a suspicious batarang.

"On second thought I'm on your side!" Conner laughs nervously.

"No offence, babe, but you made your choice." You smile unnervingly widely before turning and leaving him to deal with Tim's meltdown.

CLARK KENT & BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce had given a lot of thought to how he'd die over the years, how couldn't he with the life he led? Of all the possibilities he'd imagined, choking on the tea Alfred had prepared him from the image plastered across his morning newspaper.

The picture. The picture of you. His beloved sister. You and Clark Kent. His best friend. Kissing. That picture.

"Wayne Princess spotted with new beau?" The newspaper he holds in his hands stares up at him mockingly until he accidentally rips the offending paper in half.

Plans for the day-long forgotten, Bruce hunkers down at his computer, obsessively scrolling through gossip columns, collecting information. The headlines were nearly endless: “Wayne Royalty Meets Smallville Simplicity", “Billionaire Bloodline and the Boy Next Door?", He Stole Her From Us! Gotham Mourns as Beloved Socialite Taken Off the Market.”

“BREAKING: Gotham’s IT Girl is Dating… WHO???”

The Wayne Princess: You know her, you love her, women want to be her, everyone wants to be with her — was spotted yesterday cosying up to a mystery man. It turns out, that man is Clark Kent, a journalist at the Daily Planet. Yes, a journalist. With GLASSES. Not a billionaire, not a pop star, not even an actor. Just... Clark. Look, we’re not here to judge true love or whatever, but Gotham is reeling. Our queen, our light, our socialite supreme… has chosen a man who probably thinks khakis and cardigans are acceptable date attire. The internet is in mourning. Group chats are in shambles. Thirst edits are being watched through mournful tears. Meanwhile, Clark Kent? Unbothered. Thriving. Possibly winning the “man most likely to be assassinated by bitter Gothamites" award.

All the while, he's sending countless texts and voicemails to his currently wayward sister. You'd always answered him immediately, even when you were busy; yeah he smelled a conspiracy.

Guess it was time to pull out the big guns, his kids, you never could ignore them. He calls Tim and Damian into his office, trying not to feel a little unnerved when the oldest announces that you're in Metropolis with no prompting.

"I figured you'd seen the news." The teen shrugged, answering the silent question in Bruce's eyes.

"What news?" Damian scowls, looking between his father and brother in suspicion. The kid was a Wayne alright.

"Auntie's dating Superman." Tim yawns.

"Father, I require some Kryptonite... for completely unrelated reasons," Damian says so unconvincingly that any other day Bruce might have been amused. Now though, he considered it for a few seconds.

"Ooookay, I'm going to take this one to school now." Tim chuckles awkwardly, grabbing Damian by the shoulders and hauling him out of Bruce's office before the two could plan to murder one of the greatest heroes on Earth.

(Though not before he drops your exact location for his adoptive father, he wasn't that magnanimous.)

Bruce strikes when you're in the shower, waiting until he hears the water start to run before he steps out of the shadows.

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

"Jesus Christ! Bruce!" Clark practically screamed, pulling the sheets up to cover his chest like a blushing maiden.

"Answer the question, Clark." He reiterates.

"Bruce, seriously," Clark tries to placate, only to pause at the deadly look on his friend's face. "I love her."

The earnest sincerity in Clark's gaze knocks the wind right out of his sails.

"Listen to me, Bruce, I love her, I'd protect her with my life. You have to know that." The dopey, lovesick grin that grows on his face is disgustingly sweet. "I'd marry her if she let me."

"Really?" Your breathless voice cuts in. Bruce's eyes narrowed; you tended to take long showers; there was no way you'd finished already. Unless, you intended to set him up.

Unwilling to stay and witness the inevitable sap fest, Bruce turns to you for confirmation.

"Is he good to you?" You nod and something in him softens just a little. "Then I trust you. Both of you." He pauses, barriers going back up when he notices the way you relax into Clark's welcoming embrace. "But if he breaks your heart, I will break his kneecaps"

[deansbeer]

THINKING ABOUT RED K!CLARK . . .

꒰ . ⋮ minors do not interact .ᐟ ֹ ꒱

you don't know how long it's been—minutes, hours, maybe entire lifetimes of pleasure—but your legs are trembling, your throat's raw from all the moaning you've done, and the bed won't stop squeaking beneath you.

clark on top of you, all golden skin and sweat-slick muscle, eyes still glowing faint red from the sliver of red kryptonite sitting snug on his middle finger. he's not himself. not exactly. he’s rougher. cockier. but still yours—every hard, hungry inch of him.

you gasp when he thrusts deep again, and he grins down at you, slow and menacing

"what's that, baby?" he pants, voice thick with heat. "too much?"

you shake your head, even though your body's overstimulated and your thighs are shaking and you've already come—god, how many times now? four? five?

"that’s what i thought," he growls, leaning down to bite at your neck, his hips never slowing. "my girl can take it."

the bed creaks louder beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with every thrust. your nails rake down his back, leaving welts he doesn’t even feel, and he just keeps going, chasing another orgasm from you like it's the only thing that matters.

“fuck, y'feel so good," he groans, voice wrecked. "this pussy's so greedy for me. so wet 'n tight. you love this, don't you?"

you whimper a meek yes, barely able to breathe as your next climax builds like a tidal wave. he holds your face in his hand, blue eyes burning into yours.

"cum for me again, baby. i'm not done with you yet."

[dontbesoweirdkira]

A/N: Never cared about superman until this new trailer came out. I'm a Clark girlie now. It's shame there's not many Yan!superfamily content out there. I plan to write more but I figured i'd get some thoughts out there.

Warnings: DeadDoveDon'tEat| Forced family, yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation ect..

Living with Yan!superfam would be the most terrifying experience in the whole wide world. Yes, Clark Kent is such a sweetheart. Truly the embodiment of a "gentle giant", there's not a man on earth whose kinder...but there's also not one who is stronger.

How frightening would it be to innocently deny your father of bonding time and hear him say---

"I didn't quite hear you. Could you repeat yourself, Honey?"

---and you turn around to face this six and a half foot brooding man who is towering over you with a sickeningly sweet smile....

You and I both know he heard you loud and clearly, he can hear someone laugh half way across the world. Papa Clark just wanted to see if you really had the audacity to repeat yourself.

OH and the fact he has telepathy? Clark has sworn on his life that he'd never use those abilities on anyone outside of criminals, let alone his precious family but there's times where it feels there's something rummaging through you brain.. picking at every little part.

--and it always seems to happen late at night, when everyone is supposedly sleeping.

Speaking of his telepathy powers, could you imagine him erasing parts of your memories? One time while he was holding you in his arms, all you could think about was your past...your real parents and siblings...how you wished his arms were theirs...

Clark's jealousy would overwhelm him and next thing you know you can't even remember much about them at all...

Or fantasizing about escaping while at dinner and having your train of thought ripped right from you as he silently watches you from across the table.. You know that there's something wrong but you can't quite place it and he finally speaks up

"Everything alright, sweetheart? You look a little disgruntled."

One thing Clark does is swoop you into his arms without much warning and flies. That seems like so much fun but you hate them. Rightfully so. Intentional or not, it's a reminder how helpless you truly are when in a blink of an eye you're thousands of feet up in the air . He'd never drop his precious daughter, but you don't know that. Not when he just levitates there, looking at you with a sickness in his eyes..mind racing and heart pounding. He loves you so much, what would he ever do if he lost his only girl.

Clark constantly pushes to be close to you and to be the perfect father. It's so surreal waking up in a "perfect" cookie cutter family. It's as if you were in some 1950's film about a nuclear family, everything feels like it's taken right from a script.

It really reminds you that they are aliens trying their hardest to conform to a human way of life. You feel bad for being so reclusive when it's clear that your Father wants your life to be perfect, but you can't shake the fear you have for them.

You would almost feel bad if they didn't kidnap you or could snap your spine with a single finger...

Oh don't get me started on your little brother Jon. He's just like his dad. Loving and full of sugar, until you do something to shatter the image of their perfect family.

You rejected playing with him and suddenly he's *literally* dragging you into his room to play Legos. Or you told him that he's "not really your brother and that you have a real family somewhere else." and He's blowing out your eardrums during a tantrum..

*never make Jon scream and cry, noted.*

Oh one time he threw an emotional fit so hard that he almost shot a Laser beam at you. He genuinely didn't mean to, he would never purposefully put your life in danger but he's still not in full control of his powers yet. Very blessed that Clark was there that day to settle things.

Yeah. The boy frequently forgets just how fragile you are. Clark is able to control himself in order to protect you and everyone else but Jon struggles so much. Accidental bruises and broken bones are a frequent thing in this household, much to Clark's dismay.

He can scold his son all day but when he sees his sister waiting for him to get off the school bus, he can't help but throw himself into her. Maybe its the pulling, grabbing, and yanking her a little too harshly out of excitement is the root cause.

He's always wanting to show of his powers in order to make you think he's cool and deserving of your love..

Lois is completely bliss to everything that's going on. She seems to be rather confused why you're taking so long to adjust but honestly I think Clark has her mentally wiped.

What if he only kidnapped you because he desperately wanted a daughter. Like Papa Clark gives off "girl dad" vibes but Lois couldn't have another. When he saw you, oh you were so perfect. He didn't care if you looked like him or not, you were his baby girl. You were perfect for this family.

[ditzydoe444]

Clark Kent and Teddy Bear!User but Clark is trying so hard not to hurt them or bruise them, but they love getting those kinds of marks from him.

-🌟

MDNI 18+

“harder clarkie,” you whined as your manicured nails gripped onto his shoulder, making crescent indents as he slammed into you, his fat cock shoved up your small aching hole. “come on baby, calm down yeah?” he cooed softly, gently caressing your cheek with his large hand. “don’t wanna hurt you,” he mumbled as he snuggled into the crook of your leg, your legs wrapped around his waist as he inhaled your sweet scent. clark tried his hardest to control himself, with his sheer strength alone he was damn sure he could snap you in half, and that was the last thing he wanted. as much as he wanted to please you he tried his best right he gentle in bed, kissing you softly as he told you how much he loves you. though his sweet girl was the opposite, begging him to go a little rougher, occasionally asking him to leave some hickeys or something just to mark you up. it was adorable how his sweet girlfriend who looked so innocent, whose cheeks would turn a soft shade of pink whenever he called her ‘pretty’, or would follow him like a lost puppy wanted to be marked so damn badly. “rougher clarkie, grip onto me harder,” your whiny protest gaining his attention as he snapped back to the soft flesh of your hips that he was gripping. “please clarkie? you won’t hurt me,” your soft tone reassuring him, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to have rough sex, he was worried for you. you were the sweetest and softest thing in his life, always dolled up and a little ditzy, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. but since you were so adamant in having a little bit of marking, clark couldn’t refuse his sweet girl who was currently batting her eyelashes at him. his pace quickened, the sound of skin slapping filled the room as he left marks all over your neck and collarbone, “my pretty girl likes to get all marked up huh?” he teased softly as he gently nibbled your skin. maybe he would continue to indulge in your little needs.

[kjhbsies]

Baked With Love

Smallville Clark Kent x popular reader

synopsis: Y/N was the popular girl who wore her heart on her sleeve—for him. But Clark, caught between fear and pride, kept pushing her away… until her absence finally made him realize what he had lost.

wordcount: 3,505

note: 16+ angst to fluff

For most of his college life, Clark Kent had genuinely no idea why you liked him so much. It all began on a very unfortunate afternoon when Lex Luthor introduced you two. Lex had said...

"Clark, this is Y/n. She's a family friend from the city. Be nice."

You were effortlessly intimidating— born in a silverspoon, a wardrobe that looked like it walked straight out of a fashion magazine cover, and a confidence that Clark couldn't even fathom. You were loud, bold, smart-mouthed, and just happened to be jaw-droppingly pretty. Clark tried not to think about it, but he failed miserably.

Clark didn't feel uneasy with you, per se. But you weren't exactly his to pick for "people I'd like to be trapped in a room with." Not because you were mean. No, you were actually weirdly nice. You just had this energy. An unshakable presence that made Clark, the most powerful being on Earth, feel like an awkward schoolboy with sweaty palms.

One day, you popped in the barn, saying something about "needing fresh country air." Then the next week, you were lounging in his loft like you owned it, flipping through one of his books like you weren't just sitting in the sacred space of solitude he thought only he and Lana would occupy. Then there was the time you baked cookies and just showed up at the Kent kitchen, and Clark genuinely thought Martha had invited you. She didn't.

It was like you were on a personal mission to infiltrate every square inch of his life— and you were doing it so casually that no one really questioned it. Not even Clark.

Until Pete started teasing.

"Hey, look. Your girlfriend's here."

Clark would turn with a flush in his ears. "She's not my—"

But Pete was already laughing.

Even Chloe had chimed in. "You know, Y/n's got her sights on you, right? Like a missle. Might as well surrender."

Clark had no response to that. Mainly because he had just run into you in the hallway and accidentally inhaled whatever perfume you were wearing, which now lived permanently in his brain.

You'd greet him like it was the most natural thing in the world— "Hey, Clarkie." With that little smug grin like you knew you made him nervous. And maybe you did. Okay. Fine. You definitely did.

But to be honest, Clark didn't find any of it funny anymore.

Sure, despite being one of the popular girls on campus, you never acted like it. You were popular, yeah, but not in the usual sense— people gravitated towards you because you had personality. You were brilliant in class, always raising your hand with the kind of answers that made instructors nod like proud parents. You were involved in different university organizations, and somehow, you still made the President's List every semester like it was no big deal.

Basically, you were the kind of girl that many people admire. And yet, somehow, you had decided to direct that same energy to Clark. And it wasn't subtle, either.

You brought him snacks. You had saved him a seat in the library. You texted him stupid memes at night. You even helped him with his Physics project once— and looked good doing it, too, in that annoyingly cute shirt and eyeglasses.

But Clark had brushed it all off. It's not like he didn't find you attractive. He did. Painfully so.

You were a lightning in a bottle— vibrant, driven, and bold. And he was just... Clark. The farm boy with secrets a size of a planet, who spent most of his nights chasing off meteoric weirdos and hiding his abilities from half the people in this town.

You deserved someone normal. Someone who wasn't still half-tangled in the heartbreak that was Lana Lang.

You arrived at the Kent farm with a basket in hand, your smile as sweet as the scent of the freshly baked pastries you brought.

"Oh, Y/n. You always bring something so delightful." Martha beamed, ushering you in.

Clark, leaning against the barn wall, tried not to stare. You were just... too much. Too pretty, too kind, too good to be real. His mom always looked at you with sparkling eyes, and Jonathan always seemed to feel the same way.

When the two of you were finally alone, you turned to him, hopeful.

"So... you free this Saturday?" You asked casually, hopping to sit on a slab of wood. "It's my birthday. Lex is hosting something in his house. Nothing too crazy, just a small thing. A few people, food, music. Chloe and Pete are also invited. I was hoping you could come?"

Clark looked up from the hay he was pretending to be interested in. Your eyes were soft, curious, and earnest. He hated it.

"I... uh, I might be busy. Football stuff. The season's picking up, and my parents are going to be out of town this weekend. I'll probably be covering some chores."

You blinked once and then smiled faintly.

"Oh..." You said, trying to hide your disappointment. "Well, it's open if you change your mind."

You left him a cupcake on the table. Vanilla with pink frosting and sprinkles. He didn't eat it.

And Saturday came fast.

You woke up with butterflies in your stomach. Your room was filled with balloons Lex insisted having delivered, despite your protests. "It's your birthday, Y/n. Let people celebrate you for once." He argued.

You liked Clark. A lot. It wasn't some game. Not some challenge your friends had dared you to do. You weren't being ironic. Your feelings were real— surprisingly real— and Lex had raised an eyebrow once, muttering something like, "Well, that was unexpected."

But he didn't understand. Clark was real in ways no one else around you ever was. He didn't care about money or popularity or image. He was awkward and shy, yet grounded. And you loved that about him.

So you got ready. You wore your favorite dress. You styled your hair. You told yourself he'd show up. He had to.

By 8:00 PM, the living room was warm and full of laughter. Music played softly in the background. Your friends chattered around the dinner table, passing drinks and stories.

"Clark's coming?" Lex asked you as he handed you a drink.

You shrugged, smiling tightly. "I hope so."

Chloe had shown up with a gift and a knowing smile. "Clark and Pete didn't say anything to me. But maybe they're just late."

You nodded. But the hours passed.

9.00. No Clark.

10:00. Still nothing.

By 10:30, your phone screen was painfully blank, and your stomach had started twisting into knots.

By 11:00, the guests started filtering out. Some hugged you and wished "happy birthday" with laughter and light hearts. But all you could feel was this hollow building up in your chest. He wasn't coming; he never was.

"Come on," Lex said gently, wrapping a gentle arm around your shoulders. "Let's go back inside. Stop waiting for someone who won't show."

Unbeknowst to you, Clark was not at home. Wasn't working on some chores. He was at a party across the town. A big one— loud music, red solo cups, beer pongs, too many football jerseys, and girls hanging around. Pete and Clark had been invited there, and both of them reluctantly showed up.

Clark drank a lot. Way more than he should've. But not enough to get drunk (he couldn't, anyway), but just enough to blur the guilt.

The sun hadn't even reached its peak yet when you arrived at the Kent farm, your hands cradling a tray of leftover cake—chocolate hazelnut with buttercream, the one you baked yourself because it reminded you the first time Clark ever complimented something you made. You told yourself it wasn't a big deal. Just a small peace offering. Just a way to see him.

Maybe, you thought, he regretted not showing up. Maybe you could laugh it off, hand him a slice, tell him he owed you one, and pretend like the silence between you hadn't cut through your chest the night before.

But as you reached a gravel path leading to their porch, your steps faltered. An unfamiliar girl emerged from the front door. Probably your age. Wearing one of Clark's flannel shirts, barely buttoned. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick smudged, like she had just woken up.

You took a step backwards, hiding from their line of sight.

And then came Clark. Topless. Barefoot. Looking like a tragic painting of betrayal in broad daylight, sunlight washing over his body like it was trying to make him look holy. But there was nothing sacred about the red kiss marks littering his neck or the one at the corner of his mouth.

The girl turned, smiling up at him before heading to her car. And before she got in, she tiptoed and planted a soft, small kiss on his cheek.

He smiled back. Not awkwardly. Not nervously. Like it was easy.

You quickly backed away, ducking behind the side of the barn as Clark went back inside his house. The pain burned inside of you. It was sickening and humiliating.

God, you thought, I wore my favorite dress last night just for him.

Without a second thought, you immediately found the nearest trash bin and shoved the cake in with trembling fingers. You walked away without looking back.

"Why didn't you show up at Y/n's birthday party?" Chloe asked sharply, catching Clark mid-page of the local meteor-rock incident report. Pete, just beside him, visibly flinched and gave him a look.

Clark blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." Chloe leaned across the table, arms crossed. "She was excited to see you, you know? Lex threw the thing in his house. It wasn't exactly as small as one would expect. So where were you?"

Pete tried to focus on his apple juice.

"I... we were busy. Football thing. Plus, I didn't think it was a big deal. I mean, she was always around, right? I figure she'd understand."

"Always around?"

Clark sighed. "She's just... always there, alright? Popping out of corners. Bringing pastries at 7 AM. Sitting in my loft like she owns it It's annoying. She's always tailing me, and I never asked her to."

Silence.

Even Pete stopped sipping on his juice.

And behind the bookshelves, hidden just out of sight, Y/n froze.

You had only come in to return Chloe's notes in your shared Philosophy class. You weren't even going to say hi. You were keeping your distance— just like you promised yourself.

"She's not so bad like you made it seem, Clark." You heard Chloe.

"I just want some peace," Clark muttered, clearly annoyed.

"You can't run away from her forever."

"I'd be glad to try."

But Clark didn't have to because that same week, you became an enigma after that. He didn't even have to dodge around the barn. Didn't have to wake up seeing your face first in the morning. You weren't popping in with muffins or sticking heart-shaped post-it notes around his loft window. You weren't waving at him in the hallways. You were just gone.

His brows furrowed every time he walked past your locker and found it unopened. He found himself always glancing at the entrance of their barn more than once, hoping you'd finally show up one morning. At the farmer's market, he wandered longer than necessary at the baking aisle booth, wondering if you'd suddenly walk by.

You didn't.

Jonathan asked him to take out the trash. And Clark, half annoyed, half distracted, grabbed the bin from the porch and stomped towards the compost. But when he opened the lid, he saw a cake box. Pink polka dots, cute bow— the one you always used.

His stomach dropped.

What's it doing in here?

Clark's grip on the edge of the box tightened. Guilt rolling in immediately.

You weren't annoying. You were just kind. Consistent. Loud in a good way. You liked him, and he treated it like a problem. And now, he realized what kind of an asshole he was.

He had to apologize. But he didn't know where to start. Finding you was not an easy task, either. He wandered through the halls, eyes scanning every classroom, but you weren't there. He went to the farmer's market three mornings in a row— hoping— praying— you'd be there. But you weren't.

He had gone two full weeks without a glimpse of you. He hated to admit how often he found himself pausing during the day, waiting. Hoping.

So when Lex rolled into their farm one day in one of his new ridiculously expensive cars, Clark barely noticed. He was too busy dragging the hay until he heard Lex's voice.

"Clark," Lex said, grinning. "Hope I'm not interrupting you."

And then Clark saw you.

You stepped out of the passenger seat, wearing jeans and a simple cropped tee, hair styled neatly. No designer boots. No bold lipstick. But Clark swore his lungs forgot to work.

You offered him a polite nod. "Hey, Clark."

And that was it.

Lex greeted the Kents, asking for a quick word inside. And then, it was just the two of you, sitting in silence, like strangers.

You took a seat on one of the old wooden benches, thumbing through your phone. Clark awkwardly stood by the wooden door for a few seconds, pretending to dust his hands, eyes flicking towards you every five seconds.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer. "Lex got a new car."

You didn't look up. "Yeah, Lamborghini. He won't stop talking about it."

Clark scratched the back of his neck. "It's... nice."

"Yeah."

Silence again.

"Look, I— I'm sorry about your birthday. Me and Pete... we couldn't come."

You finally glanced up. "It's okay; you were busy."

Clark nodded, unable to say something else, especially now that you seemed uninterested in what he was going to say.

Earlier that week, he had stormed inside the Torch like a man possessed. Chloe looked up from her computer with an annoyed glare.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" She snapped, clicking through the keyboard.

Clark ran a frustrated hand along his hair. "I need a bit of advice. About Y/n."

Chloe didn't even look up. "Wow. That only took, what, half the semester? You realize she's been MIA, right? Like, completely ghosted. And now you want to talk?"

Clark sighed. "Chloe, please."

She glanced up, her eyebrows shooting up when she heard how desperate and wrecked he was.

"She won't even look at me now. She used to be everywhere, and now it's like she never existed. And— I— I don't know."

"You miss her."

"I do," He admitted. "I didn't think I would, but I do. It's like— I keep looking for her. Like she's supposed to be there, and when she's not—God, Chloe. It was driving me nuts."

And then she'd told him to just talk to you. Simple. Direct. No weird detours.

So when Lex called about the delivery that Thursday, Clark had thought maybe this is it. Maybe this was the moment the universe was finally giving him another shot. He had practiced a dozen versions of the same line in his head.

But when you descended the stairs in that usual, effortless way, bored eyes locked into the screen of your phone, he realized immediately— something had changed.

"Lex isn't here." You said, eyes darting at the box he was carrying. "You can leave it in the kitchen."

"I know," He replied, a little breathless. "I was hoping you'd be home."

You paused. "Really?"

Clark nodded, setting down the box of fruits and vegetables. "Been doing alright?"

You shrugged. "Same old. You?"

"Maybe." He shifted nervously. "I— I'm free this Saturday. If you wanted to— I dunno, go by the lake with us. Just hanging out."

You looked at him. "You don't have to pretend, you know?"

Clark blinked. "Pretend? I— I wasn't—"

"It's fine, Clark. If you don't like me, you could just say it to my face. I'm a smart girl, Clark. I'll understand whatever reason you have."

"But I don't—" He tried to move forward, to explain, but you were already walking away from him.

Down Main Street, past the closed café and the silent bookstore, hands in his jacket pockets, brows furrowed so deeply, Clark found himself walking in the streets of Smallville. His boots scuffed against the pavement with every distracted step, and his mind was loud— too loud.

He was driving himself mad.

So when Lex pulled up next to him in his Lamborghini, rolling down the window and watching Clark with one raised brow, it was hard to look anywhere but embarrassed.

“Late night for a stroll,” Lex said casually, but his eyes were sharp. Observing. “Don’t tell me the world’s strongest farm boy is out here moping.”

Clark gave him a dry look but didn’t deny it. Didn’t even try.

Lex tilted his head. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” Clark muttered.

Lex leaned his elbow on the edge of his window. “This about Y/N?”

Clark stopped walking.

Lex gave a small, knowing smile. “Figured.” There was silence for a beat, and then Lex said, almost thoughtfully, “You know… You really got the wrong idea about her.”

"Clark looked down. "Oh, yeah?"

Lex looked away briefly before adding, “Did you know that she waited by the door longer than she’d ever admit on her birthday? Kept peeking at the window, fixing her dress— her favorite one. And then, when you didn't show up, I know that broke her heart.”

Clark swallowed hard. "I..." He shook his head, trying so hard to convey coherent words but failing to do so.

“Don’t screw this up, Kent,” Lex said more gently now. “You think you’re the only one scared? That girl was brave enough to love you in front of everyone. Maybe it’s your turn.”

Clark didn’t speak. He just reached into his pocket, pulled out his truck keys, and offered them to Lex.

Lex raised a brow. “What’s this?”

“I need your car,” Clark said, almost urgently.

Lex blinked. “You’re not going to wreck it, are you?”

“No promises,” Clark replied, already moving.

Lex rolled his eyes, but tossed him the keys anyway. “She’s at my house. Kitchen. Baking. Don’t ask what time it is.”

Clark was already gone before the sentence ended, a streak of blur and hope trailing behind him.

You were baking again.

It was your comfort. Your reset button. The world could fall apart but give you flour, eggs, and your favorite playlist and you could pretend everything was fine for a few hours.

You didn’t expect to hear tires screech in Lex’s driveway. Didn’t expect heavy, rushed footsteps across the porch. Didn’t expect the door to swing open like something out of a dramatic rom-com.

Clark Kent stood there, breathless.

Hair wind-swept. Cheeks flushed. Eyes wild with emotion. He looked like he’d run across all of Smallville just to get here. He had.

“Y/N..."

You blinked at him, surprised, a spoon still in your hand. “Clark?”

“I— I need to talk to you,” he said, stepping inside before you could shut him out. “Please. Just hear me out. I won’t screw it up this time.”

“Clark, I’m kind of—busy—”

“Please.”

You froze.

“I was stupid, okay?” He said. “I was scared. You’re… everything. You’re so vibrant and loud and brilliant, and I thought I wasn’t enough for that. I thought I couldn’t keep up with someone like you. But I was wrong. You make me better.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Clark beat you to it again.

“I like you,” He breathed. “I really like you. And I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t. I don’t want to keep lying to myself that losing you is somehow better than facing how much I care.”

You stared at him, heart thudding. “Clark…”

He looked desperate. “Please say something.”

“I liked you first. But that doesn’t mean I want to be someone you settle for. I don’t want to be some spontaneous decision because you’re lonely.”

Clark shook his head, stepping closer. “You’re not. You’re not a decision. You’re the only thing I’m sure of right now.”

There was still doubt in your eyes. Still guardedness.

So Clark did the only thing he could think of to prove he meant every word.

He kissed you.

Gently at first— carefully, like you were made of glass. But then you responded, melting into it with a small sigh, hands finding his chest, and it deepened— slow and sweet and real.

When you finally pulled away, slightly breathless and a little dazed, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You’re it for me,” He whispered. “I didn’t see it before. But I do now.”

You smiled, just a little. “You’re gonna owe me, Clarkie.”

“I’ll bake,” He offered.

You laughed. “You can’t even toast a bread.”

He grinned, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Then I’ll learn.”

©kjhbsies

[bajablastlover1]

she’s a good girl but for tom welling she’s a slut

[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.

[cinnamongrl2006]

౨ৎ Clark kent x fem!Reader ౨ৎ

Summary: Very fluffy, baking with your boyfriend who's kind of a mess.

A/N: I'm rewatching Smallville and I'm so brainrotted, ugh I love Clark he's such a golden retriever. Also, I got asked to write Clark so much, thank you guys omggg

You and Clark had been standing in the kitchen for the past thirty minutes; the afternoon sun filtered through the window, giving everything a golden hue. Music played from your phone as you both baked side by side.

Clark was standing at the counter next to you, brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully measured flour into a bowl. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was already a faint dusting of flour on his forearms. You couldn’t help but smile at how serious he looked—like this was the most important task in the world.

"If you frown any harder," You broke the silence, "you'll burst a blood vessel."

"I'm trying to be precise with the measurements." He replied, voice strained with concentration.

"You’re acting like this is a life-or-death mission. It’s just cookies, Clark." You said, leaning your hip against the counter as you folded your arms.

"You're watching me like a hawk, I just don't want to mess up." He shrugged.

"Relax, I'm not judging. Just...watching over you."

Clark chuckled and returned to his task, pouring the flour into the mixing bowl. "Okay, what’s next?"

"Now you mix the dry ingredients together," you said, gesturing to the whisk. "Gently. Gently, Kent."

He reached for the whisk but hesitated. "Gently. Got it. I can be gentle."

He started whisking the flour and spices together, his movements careful and deliberate.

"Okay, good." You spoke, watching over his shoulder.

For a moment, it looked like he was getting the hang of it. But then, he added a little too much force, and the whisk sent a puff of flour flying into the air.

You stepped back, the white powder settling around you and over you. You brushed some of it from your clothes and looked up at your boyfriend.

"Clark!" You brushed the flour from his shoulders, "What did I say about being gentle?"

"I didn’t mean to!" he protested, looking down at the mess with wide, apologetic eyes, cheeks flushed.

"You're a disaster, Kent." You said, wiping flour off his shoulders. "I'm taking over the whisking, you're on clean up duty."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded, grabbing a kitchen towel and slinging it over his shoulder.

You whisked the batter together as he wiped the countertops. You felt his gaze on you—warm, almost burning— as you went on with your tasks.

His gaze never left you, not when he finished cleaning and moved to roll the dough with you, not when he stood behind you, watching as you dug your hands in the batter.

"You're really good at this." He said, his arms under yours, hands copying your movements.

"At baking? I'd hope so, or else we'll be eating rocks tonight." You looked up at him.

"No, I mean...at making things fun." He spoke softly.

You felt your cheeks warm, trying to focus on the dough. "Well, baking’s supposed to be fun. Especially with someone like you."

Especially with someone like him. Oh, he blushed at that. You turned to face him when he didn't reply and his hands stilled on the marble countertop.

He stammered before offering a soft "Yeah..." and a nod of his head. To which you laughed.

"You've got...uh...you’ve got a little something..." He gestured vaguely toward your face.

You frowned, wiping at your cheek. "Here?"

"No, over here," he said, reaching out gently to brush a streak of flour off your nose. The touch was soft, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, and when you looked up at him, his blue eyes were warm with amusement.

"Thanks," you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. He smiled, and for a moment, the world felt as golden as the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Anytime." He tilted your chin up with two fingers and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then to your lips.

You blinked in surprise, your heart racing as the warmth of his lips lingered on yours. The kiss was gentle and simple, yet it sent a thrill through you, leaving you momentarily breathless.

Clark pulled back slightly, his expression a mix of playfulness and sincerity. "Just making sure you’re all clean," he said, his voice teasing but soft.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a flutter in your stomach. "That makes no sense, I have flour all over my face again."

"Then I get to clean it off again—" He leaned in again.

Before you could respond, he gently brushed his lips against your cheek, lingering near the flour smudge. It was just a quick peck, but the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

"Uh—we gotta get these in the oven," You turned back to the countertop,trying to regain your focus as your cheeks flushed.

Clark chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "Right, right. Cookies first, kisses second," he said, his voice light and teasing.

────୨ৎ────

@v44lentine (I know this isn't exactly what you requested but it gives off the same vibes, imo 🤨)

Requests are open!!!

[killishin]

— ♡ let's rest.

pairing: clark kent x reader

category: fluff

content warning: not nsfw but there is a makeout session. not proofread.

a/n: first time writing clark, hope i didn't mess up. can't wait for david corenswet superman :)). enjoy everyone :D

dividers by @cafekitsune

the ring of the bell roused you from your nap, wearily opening your eyes as you got up from the couch on stumbling legs. truly all you wanted was a tiny nap, work went overtime and your eyes were just so heavy and tired.

and your mind was still a mush as you padded your way across the hall, grimacing at the knocks even though they were very soft, but they had woken you up. in your mind it hadn't even been that long, in your mind that is.

so when you see Clark on the other side of the door through the little peephole, your mind takes a second. why is he there....

oh shit.

your eyes widened as you slapped a hand on your mouth, as if to contain that embarrassed gasp. a date, you were supposed to go on a date with him. you silently groan to yourself, heat creeping up your cheeks as you wonder just how the hell are you supposed to face him.

you're still in your work clothes, all crumpled and askew and you don't even look at the mess of your hair.

well looks like you have no choice but to face the shame, you just hope it doesn't let him down so much that he backs off. you've spent way too much time crushing on him to let it all go to drain.

taking a deep breath, you pat down your hair and clothes, making yourself as presentable as it was possible before opening the door. there he stood, all adorable and nervous, his blue eyes widening and not in a horrified way— instead it was filled with warmth, even appreciation maybe.

"im really sorry—"

"im sorry—"

both of you paused, you furrowed your brows and tilted your head a bit, "clark you don't need to apologise for anything. its me who took too long of a nap." you catch the dial of his watch and mentally curse at the time. a simple thirty minutes nap had somehow turned to more than two damn hours.

he shook his head, his soft black curls moving with him in a way that made him even more boyishly cute. "i should have known you were tired from work— you had that scoop you were working on. i shouldn't have suggested a date on a friday."

your heart warmed at how even now he doesn't seem the least bit deterred by your state, moreover he's apologising. you breathed out a soft laugh as you rubbed your face.

"you're such a gentleman." and despite the blush that immediately coated his cheeks, he played it off with a smirk, "I'll leave you to get back to your nap then."

you groaned softly and shook your head, grabbing his forearm on instinct as you gently gave him a tug towards your apartment. "if uh— well if you don't mind waiting, i can get ready and we can still go?" you suggested hesitantly, your eyes peering up at him.

your touch alone shook the poor man so bad, he stilled as if his brain just shut down, his muscles flexing beneath your hand out of pure instinct. "yeah. no yeah sure— of course." he said, giving you a sheepish smile before holding the bouquet towards you, "they're getting heavy in my hands."

you huffed out a small chuckle as you took the bouquet and walked in, leaving the door open so he can step in. "you really didn't have to."

"but i wanted to." he said pointedly with an amused smile and you shook your head, "uh so you want anything? water or tea- coffee? i have beer too if you want— i think.." you muttered as you ducked your head and hurried to the kitchen, suddenly self conscious.

the image of him in your apartment, made everything seem much... smaller, and thats understandable given his insane height. though you were grateful the rest of your apartment wasn't as much of a mess as your room.

"no im fine. don't worry." he reassured as he cleared his throat, looking around not so subtly, as if his eyes were absorbing all little details to every part of his brain.

"alright. I'll— i won't take much time, i promise." you swore with an apologetic smile before rushing in your room and closing the door.

it took you long, sadly, but you really couldn't help but fret and mess up while hurrying. you had to pause to take a deep breath and not lose your shit, cus you ruined your liner. but he stayed patient nonetheless, not much rustling around. you felt bad for making him wait for so long but then buried it, its better to focus on making the night better than beating yourself up.

you rushed out with a nonchalant yet apologetic smile, clutching your purse between your arm and side while hastily putting on earrings. "im done im done!" you were pretending to be calm, and cool while internally you merely hoped even for a sliver of that blush on his cheeks in response to your attire.

"hey there's no hurry—" he paused as he turned around, his lips freezing momentarily before he gulped. the tip of his ears had reddened as he stepped forward, gently pushing your hand away and putting on your earrings for you.

his eyes seemed focused on your ear, yet you weren't unaware to how intense they looked, how his fingers twitched to touch— and they did, much against his restraint, his index brushed against the side of your neck. tracing down, so agonisingly slow that it left goosebumps in its wake, till it reached the juncture between your collarbone and neck.

"you look uh—" he cleared his throat as he stepped back, looking slightly jolted as he forced out a smile that looked tight for some reason, "..absolutely gorgeous." he sighed out with a smile, as if resigning himself to you.

"that– shit you really know how to make someone blush huh." you huffed out, jokingly, to breathe through the tension that was suddenly between you two, "but thank you." you smiled as you pushed a strand behind your ears, skin still tingling from his touch.

"let's go." you said as you took your purse in your hand and walked past him, his eyes following you. but he didn't move even as you got your keys.

"clark?" you called out softly, brows furrowing, and his brows raised a bit , as if not yet fully out of whatever trance he is trapped in his mind. "hm?"

"i said lets go?" you drawled out more slowly, "you okay?"

he took a deep breath slowly as he nodded before walking towards you. he gently grabbed your shoulder before turning you around, your eyes widening while your heart flipped. what is he—

"you didn't zip it all the way." he murmured quietly, and you realised how close he was, his breath brushing your ear in a way that made warmth pool in your stomach.

"oh."

you were sure you did though, still you felt his fingers glide across your skin as he pulled the zip up. and even after it was done, he didn't pull away, his hands glued to your back and shoulder. you could feel the tension sizzling in the air, you knew what you wanted, what he wanted— even without having to look at him.

"weren't you tired from work?" he hummed out, sounding a bit lost and absentminded. it was a shock how such an innocent voice could sound like... that. "we can have a date here. watch a movie or cook or... or whatever you want." the suggestion wasn't supposed to come out as suggestive as it did. and he couldn't find it in himself to care.

with a gulp you turned around, your eyes fliting from his to the collars of his shirt and idly fixed them— they needed no fixing. you couldn't bear the weight of his stare, the want in his eyes, the burn in it— it mirrored your own, if not more intense.

"i think I'd like that more." you whispered and his hands automatically snaked around your waist.

"yeah?" he hummed teasingly, and that boyish charm was somehow replaced by the this pleased look, so amused at how immediately you agreed. "wanna rest more?"

your eyes narrowed playfully as your hand rested flat on his chest, while the other caressed the side of his neck— just like he did, "i don't think rest is what you have in mind, mr. kent."

"oh i meant after what i had in mind."

and in a second he was on you, your back pushed against the wall while one of his hand was braced beside your head and the other gripped your waist tight. his lips clashed against yours fervently, needy and hungry— yet not so much in a hurry. he wanted to savour it, savour you. take his sweet time.

"if i had known we would end up like this i wouldn't have bothered taking so much time." you huffed out a breathy laugh, which immediately turned into a gasp as he showered kisses on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot.

"and missed the chance to see you get dressed up for me?" he pulled away, only for a second to flash you a smirk before his hands hooked under your thighs and lifted you up. "not a fucking chance."

lets say you were wayyy too spent later on to even lift a finger, much less watch a movie or do anything. him on the other hand immediately went to cook you something real nice, cus it does smell nice.

"filling me up again for more hm?" you teased jokingly but he just looked at you with an innocent smile.

"of course."

"...."

"clark i can barely walk—"

reblogs are much appreciated! :D

[hoodzgyal]

sex with clark is the most reassuring thing ever. he’d be a great virgin killer, the way he’s constantly checking in on you, lovingly rubbing circles on your clit as he ruts into you from below.

there’s something so powerful in the way a mountain of a man like clark just lets a pretty thing like you use him for your pleasure, lazily bouncing on his dick.

there’s something absolutely yummy in the way he says “i know, baby, i know,” as you moan and keen. something even sexier about the way he murmurs when you finally find your rhythm, “that’s right, baby doll. fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme—”

[luv-lock]

Their tits can cure my daddy issues.

[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.

[pommeauromarin]

Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning.

Only acceptable way for me to read this trope

[bluediamondkisser]

me tryna read a long ass fanfic but I know I have a attention span that's shortter than 15 seconds:

[bajablastlover1]