#henry cavill superman x reader

[comiicii]

Backdrop: Life had been mundane until you met Clark Kent.

Pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

Warnings: None, probably some grammatical errors and a little sadness if you’re a sap like me.

A's notes: inspired by ariana grande’s new album eternal sunshine, i’ll be doing a series of one shots based on the songs. they’ll be in no particular order and will be written for other characters but some will be featured more than once if they fit the song i’m writing about. ‘we cant be friends’ has me crying whenever i watch the video and i tear up a lot listening to it so enjoy this train wreck of a story.

Word count: 3.8k

For as long as you could remember, life was nothing special. It wasn’t horrible but you woke up most days simply doing work and trying to advance your career. Your life was mundane and filled with memories of you alone after moving to Metropolis. That was until you met him. Clark Kent. You had bumped into each other on your way into the Daily Planet for an interview. Well, it was actually you bumping into his broad chest and him catching you before you hit the marble floor. The softness in his deep ocean blue eyes were what made your heart do something it had never done. It felt like a pull in your chest that you hadn’t felt before. As if the universe made sense. Once you finally registered his apologies, you came to your senses and tried to apologize for not watching where you were going. Then he smiled. Now your stomach fluttered. That was not something your body usually did when it came to people. After he introduced himself, it was as if the world had color to it again.

It would be an understatement to say that you fell for Clark Kent. You deeply fell for Clark. Words could not express the love you instantly felt for him. And he fell just as hard for you. When he revealed his true identity to you, it only solidified the endless bounty of your love for him since he was willing to trust you with every part of himself that he didn’t share with the rest of the world. Life seemed to finally be worth living and getting up for. Every morning you rose with the sun and slowly forgot about those meek feelings that used to fill your body.

It wasn’t hard for the two of you to make some of the happiest memories together. Your then-apartment had been littered with trinkets that marked your happiest moments with Clark. Like the teddy bear he won for you when he took you to a carnival in his Kansas hometown. Or the homemade picture frame that had a silly selfie Clark took of the two of you while at work. Once you moved in together, the apartment you shared was filled with more memories the two of you made together. As a house warming gift, he presented you with a beautiful pendant necklace with both your birthstones that came together to make a heart. It’s a necklace you wear everyday and became a reminder that someone loved you unconditionally. When he proposed to you atop the ferris wheel, the ring was designed to match the necklace. Your wedding was small and intimate with just friends and family in attendance on the Kent family farm. It was the highlight of your life to be marrying the man of your dreams.

Life wasn’t always perfect with Clark though. Sharing your boyfriend (and eventual husband) with the world was not the easiest task to undertake but when he came home to you, those insecurities subsided. But those pesky feelings still lingered. Feelings of being unwanted and insecurities plagued the back of your mind. Besides, the Daily Planet constantly wrote puff pieces of his alter ego - with a few being written by you. As time passed and the world became more cruel, it became harder to keep those thoughts hidden. Little by little, those insecurities reared their ugly heads that led to some of the lowest of lows in your life since meeting Clark. He didn’t seem to understand why you were feeling as such and justified his work that it was his life’s purpose. And you didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t empathize with your feelings. You stood by him through thick and thin. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly that came with being Superman. You weren’t perfect either, though. You were an ambitious reporter and were climbing up in your career at the Daily Planet. Your work also came with some ugliness as you advanced in your career. This meant that the two of you were in the spotlight for your work. Two very different spotlights but spotlights nonetheless.

It hit particularly hard the one argument that ensued after he missed your first wedding anniversary. It was an important milestone that you had planned out for weeks. You had made reservations at the restaurant you had your first date on and he didn’t make an appearance until the morning hours of the following day. You had looked like a fool at the restaurant; patrons giving you looks of pity as you sipped on your water and twiddled your thumbs like a fool waiting for him. When he greeted you with a bouquet of lilies - the first drop of uneasiness touched your chest. You weren’t happy to see him. To see his sweet face you’d kissed good morning the morning before. To see his ocean eyes that carried such sincerity because he had broken a promise to you. He could see that he couldn’t avoid a fight with you because you didn’t look at him with love. Your eyes were filled with disappointment. The argument that ensued ended with him leaving for most of the day as you sobbed into your pillow. When he had returned you had awoken only to softly cry yourself to sleep again.

It took two days for the two of you to speak again and work through the argument. You both tried to be more mindful and quickly moved on from the unhappy moment. A part of you was content with the conversation and hopeful for what was to come with Clark. It wasn’t the first fight you two had but it was the first that hurt you so deeply.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the day you had asked for a divorce from Clark. It wasn’t something you planned but it wasn’t something you hadn’t contemplated in the recent year after your third wedding anniversary. It had come out of your mouth after another argument that was going nowhere. You had argued about how you were growing apart - how you had taken time off after planning to go away for a small vacation just the two of you and he wasn’t putting in the effort. He had come home late but it wasn’t because of him being Superman. It was because he worked late with Lois Lane on a story after he had told you that morning he’d be home to go on the trip. You were prepared to forgive him if it was because of his Superman duties but this was the last straw.

You weren’t the jealous type but even at work, it seemed like the two of you barely spoke as the years progressed. He got paired up with Lois for more stories and you didn’t like the sinking twist of your stomach whenever you saw Clark with her. They looked cute together and probably the office assumed he was sleeping with her given how flirty they tended to be (at least she was). The first time he noticed how much it bothered you, he assured you with his words and actions that he felt nothing for the reporter. He went as far as to give you a passionate kiss in the middle of the office, in front of Lois, as you bid him goodbye to go to an interview for a story you were writing. It had made you weak in the knees and you were close to pulling him into the archives room to continue the passion but you simply blushed and told him you loved him with the most love struck smile on your face. That squashed those insecurities for a while until you started noticing how close they’d sit together while brainstorming or how he began to stay later with her to work on a story. You tried not to be the jealous wife but you couldn’t help the green monster that was building on your fears and insecurities. The few times you brought it up afterwards, Clark was dismissive about your feelings. It hurt you. Hurt how little he seemed to care about your feelings.

From there, arguments were becoming more common. Filled with silence or one of you leaving the apartment for some time. It had become common practice to not speak to each other and eventually move on from the argument. You hated that your marriage had come to this point. After the last argument, you had left the apartment this time. You checked into a hotel and went to the bar for a drink. You looked at your ring and a tear ran down your cheek realizing that it didn’t give you hope. It didn’t give you the feeling you were hoping for because deep down, you knew that you couldn’t continue in the marriage if it wasn’t going to be mended. You had run the course of the marriage and it pained you. When you returned two days later, Clark was making lunch for both of you. He was prepared to go on the trip and put the argument behind. Your heart was racing because you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to end something you had hoped would never end but it had to end. You needed to be the one to make Clark realize that the two of you weren’t going to get the happy ending. Not with each other. You were prepared for him to be upset and yell and express every reasonable emotion. When you uttered those terrible words, he simply froze and you could see his heart shatter from the look he gave you because he knew you were going to see the divorce through. The day ended with you packing your things and going back to the hotel, retaining a divorce lawyer and hunting for apartments. You had managed to find a job as a journalist for a small paper and put in your two weeks at the Daily Planet. By the end of it all, all you gave Clark was a letter asking for forgiveness for ending your marriage. Detailing all the love you had for him was genuine and would always remain but that for now, your paths had to separate. You ended the letter acknowledging that the two of you couldn’t be friends but that you’d wait for that day to come. Wait for the day that he’d like you again. You’d wait for his love again.

Clark’s heartbreak was just about close to unbearable as he didn’t pull his punches during missions and even Bruce had to pull him back from time to time. He had clung to that letter you wrote him and cried so hard the day he received it. Beating himself up for letting one of the most important people in his life feel the need to cut ties with him. Letting you feel like you had to end your story together. You weren’t fairing much better. For the first few months, you were crying yourself to sleep almost daily. Life had become mundane and when you thought of Clark, it became sad and lonely. You hated the pain you felt in your chest that had spread to your whole body.

A coworker at your new job had seen how sad you were about your divorce and handed you an ad about Wayne Enterprises having technology that claimed to erase people from your memory. A part of you didn’t think such a thing existed but you knew Bruce wouldn’t build something if it didn’t work. When Bruce Wayne saw your name on the list of possible subjects, he reached out to you. Meaning, he paid a visit at your current apartment that was now closer to Gotham. You had known Bruce through Clark and knew of his alter-ego as well. Batman had actually saved you a few times when you were in Gotham chasing leads and doing interviews. When he first met you, Clark and you had been together for a year and had been invited to one of Bruce’s fancy charity events. He had seen how in love you two were. He hadn’t seen Clark so happy before you came into his life and he could see the adoration you held for the Kryptonian. Clark had even said to him that night that he was going to marry you. It warmed his heart to see how happy you two had made each other in such a short period of time.

You had ironically decided to have the procedure done on what would’ve been your fourth wedding anniversary. You looked down at the box that contained every memory attached to Clark. The receptionist had handed you a clipboard with a waiver to sign; giving Wayne Enterprises permission to move forward with the process. A nurse came out to call your name and you handed her the clipboard. She brought you inside and took the box of your memories. You sat down and took deep breaths, the nurse giving you a few minutes as she left to get he others for the procedure. You looked around at the room, it was meant to look comfortable given the severity of the process. There was a mirror on the wall to your right. You figured it was part of the original room and that maybe on the other side were boxes of other people’s memories.

On the other side of the mirror, Clark stood looking at your nervous self that waited for the technicians to arrive. Bruce had elected to do the procedure himself for his friend after informing him that you had signed up for it yourself. Clark had come in on the same day per Bruce’s request since he figured it was best for it to be done on the same day for the both of you. Clark had come in with a box full of memories connected to you. Pictures that he had of you and different items you had gotten him through the years such as the bracelet you made for him while he was away on a mission with the Justice League. You had put beads with your initials on the bracelet and just like you wore your necklace, he wore his bracelet. The box also contained a picture he had taken of you out on his parent’s farm the weekend he brought you home to meet Ma Kent. The box unsurprisingly contained a great deal of pictures of you that he took. Some silly ones, cute ones, romantic and his most cherished one was at the top of the pile. It was a picture of the two of you kissing on your wedding day. Clark had taken it himself with his digital camera he carried everywhere with him. His other favorite picture was one of you under the covers, smiling and looking so peaceful and happy as he took the picture, wearing one of his flannels. It was taken the morning after he proposed to you. You had a picture of Clark in your box that you had taken a few seconds after he took that photo. He didn’t want to put anything in the box and be selfish but he knew for it to work, he had to follow Bruce’s instruction. The one item that wasn’t in the box was the letter you wrote him after your divorce. The one that solidified your parting of ways. He gave the letter to Bruce and told him wished he hadn’t made you feel so hurt that you had to do this.

With that, the billionaire decided to tell his friend that this wasn’t the first time the two of you had gone through this procedure. Two years prior to the two of you meeting, you both had been together for three years and had a great falling out that ended the relationship. It was enough to bring the both of you, at separate times, to him and ask to have your memories of each other erased. Bruce wanted to tell you but the sadness reflected in your eyes was enough to keep his mouth shut. Maybe deep down you knew that this wasn’t the first time you wanted to erase Clark from your life. You loved him so deeply that the only way for life to move forward again, he had to be erased. Clark didn’t realize he was crying as he heard his friend recount the first time you two had come in and watched you play with the pendant necklace he gave you when you moved in together. He still remembers how nervous he was to gift it to you; worried it was not going to be your style. He remembers how his heart leaped when you squealed with joy at the present. His heart felt heavy knowing you still wore the necklace despite being divorced. It was bittersweet hope that maybe you’d be able to try again without having to do this. He wanted to break through the window and beg you not to forget him but he knew that once your mind was made up, you saw it through. So, he sat down and asked Bruce to erase his memories of your relationship. All Clark wanted was for you to be happy. If that meant erasing him, he would learn to live with that.

As you closed your eyes, recounting the countless memories you had made with Clark for the last five years, it was hard to hold back the few tears that wet your cheeks. Your breathing got heavy as Clark disappeared from your life. Your fingers reached for your necklace - the remaining piece of the love you were erasing from your entire being. You looked at the nurses beside you, asking with teary eyes if you could keep just this one memory for yourself. You softly begged them as one nurse held your hand and told you that it was going to be okay, that the process was almost complete. You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes as your fingers cling to the pendant; feeling the final memory of Clark’s ocean eyes fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you were slightly disoriented but greeted with the kind face of the nurse. She asked if you were okay and you smiled. You knew whatever just happened, it worked because there was a lightness in your chest. It felt as though you were brand new. As you stood from the chair, you thanked everyone. Without noticing, Bruce Wayne had come in to the room to congratulate you on the success of the procedure. You thanked the billionaire and went about your day. You took in the crisp afternoon air of Gotham and headed back your apartment. Clark came out the building a few minutes after you.

A few years later, life was certainly different. You had landed a job working for the Gotham Gazette as the lead investigative reporter and had made a name for yourself. You were content with life but there was something missing. At night, you found yourself out on dates that never led anywhere. On the nights where it was particularly bad, you phoned your billionaire friend Bruce Wayne whom you grew closer to in the following years with working at the Gazette. He became a confidant for your woes and wishes of your life. Bruce had come to deeply care about you after you had the procedure. Part of the reason was because Clark asked him to look out for you since he wouldn’t be able to. He couldn’t help to grow close to you because you were that type of soul that brought a warmth and comfort he hadn’t felt since he lost his parents.

Clark had focused on his work in the following years of his procedure. He had struck a relationship with his coworker, Lois Lane. They had been together for three years but it wasn’t working. Mainly because Clark hadn’t felt he could spend his life with her. She was beautiful, smart, ambitious and just about everything he could ask for in a partner but there was something missing. He couldn’t put his finger on it and quite frankly it killed him to continue in a relationship he knew wasn’t going to end in marriage.

Bruce had invited you to his charity event to raise money for the orphaned children of Gotham. He always invited you since he knew it could be good for networking for you and every now and then, you would get a date out of it. Clark and the other Justice League members were in attendance for this event as they knew this was an important cause for Bruce. Clark had just broken up with Lois the week prior and had been sulking, He originally wasn’t going to attend the event but Bruce and the others convinced him that a night out would be good for him.

A couple of hours into the event and you find yourself feeling out of place. Especially with the dress you chose; it was from a thrift shop you had found in Gotham and it had more of a bohemian look to it rather than the posh aura the other attendees wore. Bruce had checked in with you a few times to make sure you were okay; knowing how intense the scene of the Gotham elite could be and assuring you in the process of how beautiful you looked. You found yourself at the bar, grabbing what seemed to be your fifth flute of champagne for the night. Your spacial awareness was starting to go so it wasn’t surprising when you bumped into a large figure at your side, spilling some of your drink on him. You were a mess apologizing to the man. You were expecting him to make fuss but it was a pleasant surprise when you heard him softly chuckling at you. You were flushed with embarrassment but when you stared into the eyes of the man, your heart stopped. Meeting his deep blue eyes spread a warmth the champagne earlier hadn’t achieved. His heart also seemed to stop upon meeting your gaze. Your eyes made him feel like he had finally come home after a long journey of searching.

To continue having you in his presence, he joked that you owed him a dance in order to make up for ever so slightly wetting the sleeve of his navy blue suit. Hearing the slight mischievous tone only made you laugh in agreement, a sound he already found addicting. When he pulled you close to him, you hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart was beating. As you followed his lead, you relaxed and he took the opportunity to ask for your name.

“Y/N.”

“Clark.”

[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.

[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[lainiespicewrites]

Professor Superman

A/N okay this one's a one-shot I've been working on. I'm kinda nervous because I've never written for Clark. Let me know what you think!!

Summary: Reader is a student of Clarks who gets an internship at the Daily Planet. Clark is proud but his feelings take a turn when he realizes Lois is taking her to Gotham for research. He wants to protect her at all costs.

Warnings: Cursing, attempted kidnapping, smut, oral (female receiving) praise kink, Sex P n V, Unprotected sex, Creampie.

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

I stared blankly for a moment, at the door in front of me. My heart was racing as I tried to will my hand to move. I only had to ask a simple question. Yet, I can not bring myself to know on the door. If I didn’t do this. I would likely fail the assignment and the internship. But the man was so smart and intense. I was too intimidated by him. What if I could not speak and only caused myself to look like a fool? I’d surely lose the internship then. 

I took a deep breath looking down at the paper in my hand. I had to do this. This is important. I looked back at the closed office door in front of me. Tentatively, I reached up and tapped my knuckles lightly against the wood. 

“Come in,” A gentle male voice answered my knock. With a shaky breath, I forced a smile on my face and grabbed the handle opening the door. His eyes shifted from his computer as I took a step into his office. A warm smile spread across his face once he recognized me. 

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Kent, I’ve finished my paper and I just wanted to ask if you could look over my revisions?” My voice came out quieter than I’d planned. I often had that problem when speaking to him.

“It’s no bother at all, I’ve been expecting you to drop by. Take a seat, I’d be happy to look it over.” He offered, gesturing to the chair in front of him. Professor Kent teaches a Journalism class at the university. He also works full-time for the Daily Planet paper. He’s incredibly intelligent. Each year he considers a few of his students for an internship with the newspaper. But only one of us could earn that position. I really want it. And currently, I’m one of his top candidates. 

I took a seat across from him trying to calm my nerves as I extended the paper out to him. He met my eyes. “You know, Journalism is more than just writing, and telling a captivating story. It’s about doing things that scare you, doing things that make you uncomfortable to chase down what you want to find.” He looked down at my shaky fingers as he slid the paper from my grip. 

“I understand that you’re nervous. But you have no reason to be. You continue to surprise me with just how far you’ll go with each assignment you turn in. If I were to make the final decision…” He paused looking up to make sure the door was closed, so no one would hear. “The internship would be yours,” he smiled. I blushed. 

“Thank you, Professor Kent. That means a lot.” I relaxed a bit as he leaned forward in his chair and started to read through my article. This article is my final piece. And it’s what will be submitted to the Daily Planet as my entry for the internship. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying desperately not to stare at his face as he read. His fingers tapped on the table as he looked up from the desk. 

“Y/n, This is incredible.” He smiled. My cheeks flushed staring down at my hands in my lap. 

“You don’t have to say that,” I stuttered. 

“I don’t,” He agreed, “But it’s true. I’ve only been teaching on campus for about 5 years but I’ve never had a student as dedicated as you. I’m impressed. I think Ms. Lane will be too.” I nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Are you ready to turn this in?” He asked. I nodded letting out a deep breath.

“Yeah, yes. I think so.” I said. He let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t be nervous. It’s great. I’ll take this in, first thing tomorrow.”  He gave me a gentle smile. 

“Thank you, So much. Professor Kent. I appreciate all you help!” I said as I stood to leave his office. 

“Of course,” he paused. His eyes scanned me for a moment. But I was buzzing with too much nervous energy to notice the way they lingered. “And please call me Clark, I have a feeling we’ll be working together before long.” He winked. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Thank you…Clark.” I smiled. He gave me an approving nod before I turned and left his office. 

The next week was agony.  We had two more classes with Professor….Clark, each time I stayed behind to ask if he’d heard anything. And each time he would give me a sympathetic smile and tell me to “hang in there,” just a little while longer. I should hear soon. He assured me that I was a good writer and that I shouldn’t get discouraged. But I couldn’t help it. Now it was almost 5 pm on Friday, surely if they didn’t call soon I wouldn’t know anything until Monday. 

I paced my apartment phone in hand begging it to ring. But when I checked the time at 5:30 and still, nothing. I gave up. I let out a deep sigh, setting my phone down walking to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. I set the glass on the counter and popped the cork. I filled the glass and almost dropped the bottle. My phone was ringing. I quickly set the bottle down and ran to the living room picking up the phone. I didn’t even check the number before I answered. 

“Hello?” I answered almost out of breath.

“Hello, is this Y/n?” a female voice asked. I nodded but then remembered I was on the phone and quickly found my voice. 

“Yes, Ma’am, it is,” I answered her. She didn’t miss a beat. 

“Great, This is Lois Lane, with the Daily Planet. I understand this is a bit late on a Friday evening but do you have time to meet with me at the office tonight?” my mind raced trying to find the right words.

“Sure, I can be there in 15 minutes. If that’s alright?” I asked her. We agreed on the time and after I thanked her, the call ended.

I very quickly realized I was not in the proper attire for this meeting. I was in running shorts and a hoodie. I tore through my closet trying to find a pair of dress pants that would work. I found a simple white cotton top to pair them with and some flats and ran out the door. I fixed my messy bun in the apartment building's front doors before starting to walk. The Daily Planet’s main office was only a few blocks away.  I got it to the building just in time and made my way inside. 

At the front desk, I introduced myself and was directed up to the 4th floor for my meeting with Lois. I stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for my floor.  I was starting to shake from the nerves. When the doors opened I was met with a familiar face. Standing at a desk a few feet away Clark was standing talking to a woman with auburn hair and kind eyes. They both looked up when the elevator sounded. 

“Y/n,” He smiled. “I’m glad you could make it.” I smiled at him and the woman stood and turned to greet me. 

“Miss Y/n, I’m Lois Lane. It’s nice to meet you.” she offered a kind smile. I shook her hand and she gestured for me to sit with her at her desk. “As you’re aware you and others from Mr. Kent's journalism course at the university have been under review for an internship with the Daily Planet. I would have just called but Clark insisted for you to come into the office.” She chuckled softly. 

I looked up at Clark nervously, he squeezed my shoulder reassuring me. “Y/n,” Lois continued. “The Daily Planet would like to officially offer you the internship starting next week.” I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. 

“Thank you, Ms. Lane, I accept that offer. When do I start?” I asked, eagerly. She chuckled softly. 

“I’ll send you an email with all of the details on Monday. You should be able to start with us on Tuesday.” I nodded.  

“Thank you again,” I said. She nodded, giving me a smile. 

“Of course. We’re excited to work with you,” she stood and started to gather her things. “I apologize, I’m not trying to rush you out of here. I’ve got a date this evening I don’t want to be late for. Clark, can you walk her out?” Clark nodded waving to Lois as she already started to head toward the elevator. 

“Of course, I can, sorry for keeping you Lo, have fun tonight.”He winked. Lois rolled her eyes at him.

“Forever the gentleman,” she laughed, “ I’ll see you next week,” she said as the elevator doors closed behind her. 

“I told you we’d be working together soon!” Clark chuckled. I turned to face him but I couldn’t find the words. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around his middle hugging him. He was a bit surprised at first but he returned the hug. 

“Thank you,” I said softly. Remembering myself I pulled away quickly, my face flushed and embarrassed. “I-I’m so sorry, that was incredibly unprofessional. I-” Clark cut off my rambling. 

“It’s alright. You earned this. And you’re going to do amazing things here, I’m sure.” He squeezed my shoulder encouragingly. “Let me walk you out.” I nodded and waited while he got his jacket off of his desk chair. We rode down in the elevator together and walked out through the main lobby. “Where’d you park?” He asked, offering to walk me to my car. 

“Oh, um, I walked actually, I live close by,” I told him. Clark looked out the front doors and watched as rain was coming down outside. He frowned. 

“Could I give you a ride? Call me old school but I certainly can’t let you walk home in this rain.” 

I hesitated for a second. He looked back out at the rain and back to me, his eyes full of sincerity. 

“Uh, I mean, it’s really not far,” I argued. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. Just that my head was starting to get kindness and flirtation confused. I already embarrassed myself once with him today.

“It’s pouring rain, Y/n, it's no trouble I promise.” He countered. I gazed back outside. He was right, it had started to pour. I would be soaked just stepping out into it. Let alone walking all the way home. I looked back to Clark and nodded. 

“Okay,” I spoke softly. I watched as Clark pushed the door open and then opened up his umbrella. Of course, he was prepared. I look even more foolish now. 

“Come on,” He smiled. “There’s enough space for both of us under here.” He chuckled. He walked us out to his car and opened my door for me holding the umbrella while I got in so I wouldn’t get wet. 

It was quiet for a moment while he started the car. I had to remind myself again that just because a man is being nice doesn’t mean he’s interested. I looked over at him, his head turned back as he pulled out of the parking spot. I don’t know when I’d developed this little crush on him but it had to stop now. God, he was handsome though. His jaw was sharp, but his eyes were a soft but intense blue. His curls were dark and I found I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to drag my fingers through them. I shook my head. No, he’s my professor. He’s at least 15 years older than me. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He surely didn’t see me that way. And we work together now. I have to be professional.

I pushed down my thoughts and focused, directing Clark to my apartment building. He paused abruptly when I pointed out the parking lot. He crooked an eyebrow his face completely surprised. 

“No, this is it? Really?” He asked.

“Uh… yeah” I answered hesitantly. Clark let out an awkward chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, It’s just funny. I live in the building too. I’m on the 5th floor.” He said. My brows raised completely shocked. 

“I’m on 3.” I stuttered. 

“I can’t believe we’ve never run into each other.” He laughed dumbfounded. We got out of the car. Clark met me with the umbrella. We took the elevator up together. 

“Have a great evening,” He started “I’ll see you next week,” He smiled. I blushed softly. 

“You too Clark,” I said as the elevator opened to my floor. 

“Oh and if you ever need a ride to work, Just let me know,” he winked. I giggled softly and waved as the doors closed. 

I’m royally fucked. 

I started with the Daily Planet the following Tuesday. I expected that they would have me refill copy machines or make coffee or file documents in the archives. I was shocked when I was given an assignment. It wasn’t in the field. It wasn’t going to be printed. But they told me if I wanted to eventually work for the planet then seeing how I handled personal assignments was key. It was due to Lois at the end of the week. Only 4 days to do research and write the article. I sat at my desk and poured over everything I could get my hands on. It felt a little lonely. My desk was farther away from the main writers and it was a bit smaller. But it would do. Clark and sometimes a few of the others would offer me to join them for lunch during the week but I usually skipped it. This was important. If I wanted to earn respect and make myself a place around here this had to be good. 

On Friday I was once again working at my desk, typing like mad trying to finish and edit my article. 

“You don’t have to work yourself so hard. You’ve already earned your spot you know?” Clark's voice said from somewhere next to me. 

“How many of your students have been hired on at the Planet after the internship Mr Kent?” I asked. He started to protest the question. Then he let out a deep sigh leaning against my desk. 

“Two,” He answered honestly. 

“I may have the internship, but I haven’t earned my place here.I have your respect but I have to earn it with the others,” I replied. He nodded, his eyes connecting with mine.

“Can you at least break for lunch?” He pleaded. 

“I’m going to eat at my desk. I’m almost finished. And this has to be done and on Lois’ desk by 2 pm. She leaves early today.” His eyes were sad but I knew he understood.  

I finished the article. I waited nervously at my desk waiting for Lois to call me over. 

“This is good,” she said when she finally did. “You have work to do,  I want to see how your research improves when you're out on the field. But for just starting, this is great.” She added. I nodded waiting for more. I knew she wasn’t finished. 

“Next week you’ll be coming with me, I’m doing expose research in Gotham, I want you to come to observe and take notes,” she stated. I nodded again. 

“I’ll be there, Thank…”

“Lois, Gotham’s dangerous you can’t take her with you.” Clark interrupted. Lois peered up at him over my shoulder. 

“Clark,” She sighed. “All due respect. You’ve taught her all you can in the classroom. But I’m her teacher now. And the best way to learn research is out in the field hands-on.” She retorted. 

“I’ll be with Lois, I’ll be okay,” I assured him. He wasn’t having it. 

“She won’t learn anything if she gets hurt. The crime rate in Gotham has skyrocketed it isn’t worth the risk. Does Perry know about this?” He asked. Lois scoffed. 

“As a matter of fact, he does. He’s already approved it.” she told him I don’t know what came over me. If I was angry that he was trying to stop me from going when this was my chance to earn my way in. Or if I was angry he thought I was weak. 

“And, I can take care of myself! I don’t need you hovering like I’m so fragile! You may have taught me but I got myself this far, Mr. Kent. We’ll be just fine.” I snapped. Clark stared dumbfounded. His mouth hung open, he was at a loss for words. Actually, everyone was staring. 

“Shows over,” Lois spoke loudly “You can all get back to work,”  she announced. I looked back at her apologetically. 

“Lois, I..” Clark started. She quickly cut him off. 

“Clark, I have to leave, I don’t have time for this. It’s settled she’s going,” She looked back at me, her eyes softer and sympathetic. “I’m out for the day, and you’ve finished your work, If you’d like to go now your welcome, I’ll see you Monday,”  she smiled. I nodded at her giving her a nervous smile. She turned then and walked out. 

“Y/N, please think about this. I don’t want you to get…”  He started. 

“I’m going to go, as well, Mr. Kent�� I’ll see you next week.” I stood and walked to my desk grabbing my things. I walked past him to the elevator without another word.

Monday morning I was in the office early. Lois and I met at the office so she could debrief me before we left. She was interviewing with billionaire Bruce Wayne. He had connections all over Gotham, she wanted intel on any possible underground organized crime. I’ll admit it certainly was intense for my first time in the field. But it would be great practice. 

The city of Gotham was not nearly as wicked as Clark made it out to be. Mr. Wayne was amicable. He didn’t want to be there but he respected us so much as we respected him. The next few days we went back. We checked out some of the sources that Bruce had given. We got closer and closer to what she was looking for. Someone was definitely covering up organized crime in Gotham.  

Late Thursday night we were headed back to the car. It was almost 9:30 way past office hours at this point. But as Lois informed me. Good stories don’t live within the time clock. We were about to drive back and head home for the evening. We were only a few blocks away. I heard Lois scream from behind me. I turned back to look and felt myself being pulled backward. Someone had ahold of my arms dragging me off the sidewalk. 

“Let me go!” I demanded. Struggling in the stranger's grip. “Lois!” I called. 

“Shut up, what the hell are you bitches doing here?” a male voice asked. I heard Lois cry for help. I continued to struggle. 

“I’m not telling you anything. Let go of me. Someone HELP.” I screamed. Unable to break loose from the man’s hold. 

“Listen bitch! I told you to…Ungh”  The man grunted he fell back suddenly my arms slipping from his grip. I looked up my eyes going wide. Superman. He’d heard our screams. 

I watched as he took care of Lois’ attacker breaking her free. He spoke softly to her. His face looked almost…stern. She looked at him her eyes deeply apologetic. I couldn't hear what was being said. He patted her shoulder giving her a soft smile after she assured him she was okay. That I did here. 

“And you, are you okay?” He was on his feet now. He landed right in front of me. My eyes met his. They looked so familiar. I nodded. 

“You… saved me. I.. I don’t know how to thank you.” I stuttered. He smiled 

“It’s what I do. I’m just thankful I made it before you were hurt. Now please get home safe.” He added. I nodded still in shock. I felt Lois squeeze my shoulder and we walked back to the car. Superman hovered close watching to make sure we made it. Once we were inside he flew off. 

“Do you… know him?” I asked Lois suddenly. She paused looking at me. 

“We’ve met before. This job can be, dangerous at times. Can you handle that?” She asked. I thought for a moment. Could I? I couldn’t get myself out of this situation. But I didn’t back down either. Finally, I nodded. 

“Yes, I can,” I answered. 

“Good, now let's get home. We both could use some rest.” 

In the office the next day I was typing notes for Lois. I was back and forth at her desk all day. At one point I paused looking over at Clark. He looked exhausted. And stressed. He looked slightly disheveled. He was aggressively tapping at the keys on his keyboard. 

I approached him slowly. 

“Hey, are you alright, you look tired I can get you some coffee if you’d like,” I offered. He shook his head not looking away from his computer. 

“I’m fine Y/n, thank you.” he dismissed me. 

“Oh.. okay, if you need anything let me know,” I added before walking away. Normally I skipped lunch but I had time that day. I walked over to ask Clark to come with me. Again he dismissed me. I felt bad for the way I had treated him last week. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay between us. I stayed late that night typing up notes for Lois. When I shut down my computer, I noticed Clark was the only one still in the office. 

“Clark,” I spoke softly “It’s 5:30  do you need help?” I asked. He shut down his computer then.

“No, I’m just heading out now. Thank you for the offer.” He mumbled. I nodded. I turned and walked to the elevator. I rode down by myself to the first floor letting Clark cool off. If he didn’t want to talk I would give him his space. I walked out through the lobby pausing just inside the doors. Shit. It was raining again. I decided to walk this morning. It wasn’t supposed to rain. I heard the elevator ding and I groaned to myself seeing Clark exit. I gnawed at my lip anxiously, Praying the rain would suddenly let up.

“Hey,” I hear Clark's voice behind me. “Need a ride?” he asked nodding toward the door. 

“Uh… yeah, I walked this morning. Didn’t bring my umbrella. It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”  I answered awkwardly.  Clark opened the door opening his umbrella and just like the first time he took me home, we walked close sharing the protection from the rain. 

The ride home was quiet it was only a few blocks away. But when Clark pulled into the parking lot I could no longer take the silence. 

“Clark. What’s wrong?” I asked. He shook his head. “Don’t, don’t brush me off, what’s bothering you?” He got out of the car, slammed his door shut, and headed inside. I got out quickly running after him the rain immediately soaking me.  “Hey, I was talking to you!” I shouted. 

“Y/n STOP!” He turned around quickly the volume of his voice causing me to shrink back a little. “You wanna know what's bothering me? You. You, putting yourself in harm's way. You, trying so hard to prove yourself that you're being reckless. You almost got hurt because you had to make a point. You, because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you! And I’ve lost sleep all week worrying about your safety.” He stepped closer we were standing in the middle of the parking lot. “Because I couldn't bear the thought of someone even touching you.” my heart was racing his face was inches from mine. I could feel his breath on my face. “I don’t wanna see any bruises on this pretty face.” My breath hitched. 

“Clark,” I whispered. He grabbed my face crashing his lips to mine. I melted against him. The rain still fell hard around us. 

“Your so damn stubborn,” He mumbled between kisses. I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him closer. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, breathless as I chased his lips for another kiss. He let out a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t be. You’re doing amazing. I knew you would be. Just be more careful.” I nodded. He took my hand pulling me inside. He pressed the elevator button frantically. I giggled. 

“Clark that’s not gonna make it get here any faster.” He chuckled. 

“Damn elevators.” Once inside he pushed the button for his floor and backed me up against the wall. His lips were back on mine, kissing me roughly. “Wanted this for so long.” He groaned. Kissing down my neck. The elevator doors opened. He took my hand again leading me to his apartment. 

He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside. I bit my lip waiting for him to make a move. I felt so shy all of a sudden. I wanted this but I was nervous. Clark lifted my chin so my eyes met his. 

“Stop me. If this isn’t what you want stop me, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” I shook my head. 

“I want you Clark,” I whispered. His lips were on mine again. Sweeter this time. More slow. He felt his hand move down my neck and over my chest softly squeezing my breast. I moaned leaning into the touch. “Clark please,” I whined. He stepped back peeling off his wet shirt. I did the same. We left a trail of wet clothes all the way to the bedroom. Clark laid me down on the bed crawling between my thighs. Kissing them softly. 

“So beautiful.” He groaned before swiping his tongue between my folds. I gasped. He circled my clit with his tongue and then back down dipping it inside me. His groan was feral. 

“Fuck.” I moaned. He worked his tongue in and out of me while I worked my hips against his face. I tangled my fingers in his curls holding him close. His nose rubbed against my clit has he fucked me with his tongue. “m’  gonna.”  I moaned as I came on his tongue. He lapped it all up before pulling away. 

“So good sweetheart.” He kissed up my body, kissing my lips and letting me taste myself. Finally he settled between legs pushing inside of me slowly. He let out a low moan. 

“ So big,” I whimpered. He brushed my hair out of my face kissing me softly. 

“Doing so good for me sweetheart. Almost all the way in. You can take it all baby.” He moaned. With one last push he was fully seated inside me. “You feel amazing baby. Taking me so well.” He cooed letting me adjust. 

“Clark please.” I whined. Begging him to move. He pulled out slowly, until just the tip was inside me and then plunged back in. I let out a loud moan. 

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asked. I nodded. 

“So good, Clark, Fuck, I moaned as he started to thrust into me at a steady pace. He grabbed my hand pinning it to the mattress. He picked up his pace. I felt the knot build in my stomach. 

“You’re getting close aren’t you baby?” he asked. I nodded. Letting out a strangled moan. 

“Please.” I begged. 

“So polite.” he groaned. He pressed his thumb to my clit as he fucked me rubbing in circles. I felt my toes curl and I came hard squeezing him as he fucked me through my orgasm. “Thats it sweetheart. Fuck. Gonna make me. Ungh.” He groaned cumming inside me. We were both breathless laying there for a moment. Clark pulled out slowly. And pulled me into him.

“You okay?” He smiled kissing my cheek. I nodded. 

“Mhmm” I mumbled dreamily. Clark got up and came back with a cloth to clean us both up. Then got back into bed holding me close. 

“Clark?” I asked softly. 

“Hmm?” he hummed. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me… or were you just gonna let me figure it out?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Because no one else knows what happened in Gotham Superman,”  I smirked turning in his arms. 

“How did you…?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I’d know your eyes anywhere.” I said blushing. 

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “You have a crush on me?” He asked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes.

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

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[dreamersworldduh]

HIS HOME

• CLARK KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — To the world, Clark Kent is Superman—the invincible hero, Earth’s mightiest protector, and a symbol of hope and strength. He’s the one who soars through the skies, battles formidable enemies, and saves countless lives without a second thought. But to you, he’s simply Clark—the shy, kind-hearted farm boy from Smallville you’ve loved since high school.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge.

WORDS! 10k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! - Here's a little fluff for my favorite farm boy, I recently watched the Superman teaser and got a little inspired.

The early morning sun began its slow, graceful ascent over the towering skyline of Metropolis, sending soft, golden rays spilling through the sheer, cream-colored curtains of Clark Kent’s cozy apartment. The delicate fabric diffused the light, casting a warm, ethereal glow across the room. The gentle illumination danced over the simple but thoughtfully chosen furnishings: a well-loved leather armchair tucked into the corner, a sturdy wooden bookshelf overflowing with novels and framed photos, and a vintage record player resting on a low cabinet—small tokens of a life built together.

Beneath a thick, plush comforter in the center of the room’s focal point—a spacious, inviting bed—Clark and his longtime boyfriend, Y/N, lay entwined in peaceful slumber. Their breaths rose and fell in a quiet, harmonious rhythm, filling the serene space with a sense of intimacy only shared by two souls deeply connected. The soft weight of the comforter enveloped them, shielding them from the crisp morning air that lingered just beyond the windowpane.

Though Y/N remained fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady, calming rhythm, Clark was already awake. His piercing blue eyes, usually sharp with focus and responsibility, now gleamed with tenderness as he quietly admired the man sleeping beside him. For a few precious moments, the weight of the world slipped away—no urgent headlines to chase, no distant cries for help demanding Superman’s strength—just the quiet stillness of their shared sanctuary.

Clark’s gaze lingered, tracing every familiar line and curve of Y/N’s face. His fingertips, rough from years of fighting battles no one else could, hovered just above Y/N’s skin, hesitant to disturb the peaceful spell. He followed the delicate slope of his jaw, the curve of his lips—soft and slightly upturned, as though he were dreaming of something sweet—and the dark, feathery lashes that rested gently against his cheeks. How many times had he memorized these details? How many mornings like this had he silently counted himself lucky?

Here, in this stolen moment before the world woke up, Clark was simply Clark—the man who had fallen in love with his best friend back in high school and never stopped. His heart swelled with the same overwhelming emotion he felt every time he realized he got to spend another day with the person who grounded him, made him laugh, and saw past the cape to the man beneath.

As the sun’s rays grew bolder, stretching farther into the room, the stillness was broken by the sudden, jarring beep of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Its sharp sound shattered the tranquility like glass meeting stone.

“Morning,” Clark whispered, his deep voice warm and soothing, rich with a love that couldn’t be contained. His hand gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Y/N’s forehead, his touch as tender as the sunlight now spilling across the bed.

Y/N blinked slowly, his eyelashes fluttering. He shifted slightly beneath the thick, plush comforter, its weight a soothing barrier against the crisp morning air. He could feel the solid, steady warmth radiating from Clark’s body beside him, grounding him before he even opened his eyes fully. His fingers twitched reflexively, seeking out the comforting presence he knew was there.

When Y/N’s half-lidded gaze finally focused, the first thing he saw was Clark, lying on his side, already awake. His piercing blue eyes gleamed softly, filled with a quiet intensity that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best possible way. Clark’s expression was open, vulnerable, and utterly disarming—like he was seeing something precious he still couldn’t quite believe was real, even after all these years.

A sleepy, instinctive smile tugged at the corners of Y/N’s lips. He stretched slowly, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed and the quiet stillness that lingered in the room, allowing the peaceful moment to settle over him like a familiar melody. His fingers reached up lazily, brushing away a stray lock of hair from his face before his hand drifted down to rest gently on Clark’s chest.

The steady, reassuring thrum of Clark’s heartbeat pulsed beneath Y/N’s fingertips, calm and unwavering, like the rhythm of the earth itself. He let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing further as he nestled closer, resting his head against Clark’s broad shoulder. The fabric of Clark’s soft, well-worn T-shirt felt cool against his cheek, contrasting with the warmth radiating from his skin.

“Good morning,” Y/N murmured, his voice rough with sleep but laced with tenderness. His words were barely above a whisper, soft and warm like the first light of dawn filtering through the window. His hand idly traced slow, lazy patterns across Clark’s chest—small, unconscious shapes made in quiet affection.

Clark smiled, his hand moving with gentle certainty to rest on Y/N’s lower back, his fingertips drawing soothing circles through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. His touch was familiar yet reverent, a silent promise etched into every small caress.

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward the faint glow spilling through the window, signaling the start of another day. The world outside slowly stirred to life, but inside their shared haven, time seemed suspended—just the two of them in a bubble of warmth and love that felt untouched by the outside world.

“What time is it?” Y/N asked softly, his voice still tinged with sleep and curiosity, though there was no urgency behind the question. His fingers continued their gentle, aimless tracing, not yet ready to break the fragile stillness of the moment.

With a reluctant glance, Clark shifted his eyes toward the worn alarm clock on the nightstand. Its glowing red numbers silently ticked forward, marking the steady march of time. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he registered the hour. “It’s 7:15,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a quiet breeze through the still room.

Y/N groaned playfully at the answer, dragging one hand down his face in mock exasperation before propping himself up on one elbow. His hair was delightfully tousled, a few stubborn strands falling across his forehead despite his half-hearted attempt to smooth them down. “We really need to get up,” he said, though the lack of conviction in his voice betrayed him. His fingers brushed lightly against Clark’s arm, lingering there as though reluctant to break the warmth of their embrace.

Before Y/N could move any further, Clark’s strong arms tightened around his waist with effortless ease, pulling him back down into the secure circle of his embrace. His hold was firm yet tender, a perfect blend of strength and comfort, silently promising that he wasn’t ready to let Y/N go just yet.

“Not yet,” Clark whispered, his voice soft but resolute, filled with quiet intensity. His piercing blue eyes met Y/N’s with such tenderness that it made Y/N’s breath hitch for a moment. There was something profound in that gaze, something unspoken yet unmistakably clear—love, deep and unyielding.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward in mild amusement despite the way his heart seemed to swell in his chest. “Clark, we really should—”

“Do you know what today is?” Clark interrupted gently, his tone playful but tinged with something deeper—something meaningful. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression equal parts teasing and expectant.

Y/N blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in conversation, before a quiet laugh bubbled up from his chest. He let his forehead rest gently against Clark’s for a moment, savoring the warmth of their closeness, before pulling back just far enough to meet his eyes again.

“Of course I know,” Y/N replied softly, his voice steady but colored with affection. “It’s our anniversary.”

Clark’s smile widened, his eyes shimmering with something unmistakably radiant, though there was still a spark of playfulness there. He shook his head slightly, brushing his thumb tenderly over Y/N’s cheek, letting his fingers trail gently down to his jawline. His touch was reverent, as if the moment itself were fragile and precious.

“Not just any anniversary,” Clark corrected, his voice dipping lower, resonant with emotion. “It’s our ten-year anniversary.” His expression shifted into something more serious, almost reverent, as though the weight of a decade spent together was something sacred—something he still couldn’t quite believe he was lucky enough to have.

Y/N’s eyes widened briefly, a flicker of surprise softening into something far deeper, warmer. His lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he simply cupped Clark’s face with both hands, his thumbs tracing gentle, familiar lines along his jaw. His touch was slow, deliberate—a silent answer filled with love and devotion.

“Ten years,” Y/N echoed, letting the words hang between them like a whispered vow. His voice was quiet but steady, thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

Clark’s expression softened further, his smile turning just a little more playful as he leaned forward, pressing a lingering, feather-light kiss to Y/N’s forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and reassuring, before pulling back just enough to meet Y/N’s gaze again.

“And I’m not letting you out of this bed until we properly celebrate…” Clark whispered, his voice low and teasing but laced with unmistakable sincerity. His arms tightened just a fraction, drawing Y/N even closer. “…Starting right now.”

Y/N laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with both affection and amusement. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice light but affectionate, fingers still tracing slow, loving patterns across Clark’s chest.

Clark only smiled, leaning in to press another kiss—this time soft and lingering—against Y/N’s lips, sealing the promise between them with quiet certainty.

Y/N pulled away, letting out a soft breathy laugh, his lips curving into a playful smirk as he rested his hand gently on Clark’s chest. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the steady, familiar rhythm of Clark’s heartbeat—strong, unyielding, and comforting in a way that felt like home. His fingers absently traced small, lazy circles over the fabric of Clark’s worn T-shirt, savoring the warmth radiating from his skin.

His eyes sparkled with affection, though there was a teasing edge in his voice as he arched an eyebrow. “Clark,” he murmured, his tone light but laced with mock sternness, “if we celebrate right now, neither one of us is going to make it to work on time.”

Clark chuckled, his deep, resonant laugh filling the room like a warm embrace. It was the kind of laugh that made Y/N’s heart swell, as familiar and comforting as the dawn’s first light. His smile widened into that boyish, slightly mischievous grin Y/N had fallen in love with all those years ago—a grin that still made his knees weak even after a decade together.

“You make a compelling point,” Clark admitted with mock seriousness, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. His gaze softened as he took in every beloved detail of Y/N’s face—the curve of his cheek, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his lips quirked in that teasing smile that always left Clark feeling utterly captivated.

Before Y/N could fire back with a witty retort, Clark moved with effortless grace, gently shifting his weight as he rolled over, pinning Y/N beneath him in one fluid motion. His strong arms braced on either side of Y/N’s head, caging him in—but his touch was tender, protective, filled with nothing but love. Y/N gasped softly in surprise, though his eyes gleamed with amusement and affection.

Clark leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart, his breath warm against Y/N’s skin. His gaze never wavered, tracing every familiar feature with reverence, as though memorizing them all over again.

“I guess I could try to be responsible…” Clark whispered, his voice dropping into that low, velvety tone that always sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, “…but where’s the fun in that?”

Before Y/N could respond—or even fully process the words—Clark dipped his head and captured his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His mouth moved with unhurried purpose, savoring the connection as though time itself had ceased to matter. The kiss was deep but tender, filled with emotion that words could never quite capture.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Clark’s warm lips trailed away from his, leaving a path of feather-light kisses along his jawline. Clark’s mouth lingered just below Y/N’s ear—his most sensitive spot—his breath sending pleasant tingles down his spine. His lips brushed gently against Y/N’s neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that ignited a warmth deep within him.

A quiet, breathless laugh escaped Y/N’s lips as he arched into Clark’s touch, threading his fingers through Clark’s thick, dark hair. He tugged gently, earning a soft, pleased hum from Clark that resonated against his skin. “You’re impossible,” Y/N whispered, though his voice trembled with love, his words holding no real bite.

Clark pulled back just enough to meet Y/N’s gaze, his expression soft but still tinged with playful defiance. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with warmth, love, and something far deeper—something timeless. “Ten years,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently across Y/N’s cheek, his touch reverent and tender. “I think we’ve earned a little celebration… even if we’re a bit late.”

Y/N laughed again, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though he made no effort to move away—he never could when Clark held him like this, when he looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. His heart swelled with overwhelming affection, threatening to burst from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Y/N whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion as he tugged Clark down into another kiss—slow, deep, and full of all the love and devotion he couldn’t put into words.

Clark’s grin widened against Y/N’s lips, his expression radiating pure joy. “I know,” he whispered playfully, echoing the familiar words that had been exchanged between them countless times—but now, they held a deeper, more profound meaning.

In that moment, nothing else existed—no alarms, no deadlines, no responsibilities. Just the quiet, steady rhythm of their shared breath, the warmth of their intertwined bodies, and a love that had endured a decade and promised to last a lifetime.

By 8:15 a.m., the quiet intimacy of the early morning had dissolved into the familiar rhythm of Clark and Y/N’s weekday routine. The warmth of their shared bed now felt like a distant memory as they moved through their cozy apartment with practiced ease, the comfortable chaos of a typical workday morning unfolding around them.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the crisp aroma of toasted bread and the faint trace of Clark’s cologne lingering in the hallway. The kitchen was alive with quiet energy—drawers opening, shoes being slipped on, phones buzzing with notifications. The distant hum of Metropolis traffic outside was a constant, blending into the comforting sounds of home.

Clark stood at the kitchen counter, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie still undone around his neck. He poured steaming coffee into two familiar mugs—one emblazoned with the bold “Daily Planet” logo, and the other featuring a playful “World’s Best Partner” design, a sentimental gift from Y/N on their fifth anniversary. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, steady and sure, as though even the smallest tasks carried a quiet significance in their shared life.

“Babe, have you seen my laptop charger?” Y/N’s voice called from the bedroom, tinged with mild urgency. His words were punctuated by the sound of drawers sliding open and the soft rustle of clothes being shifted around.

Clark couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he set the coffee mugs on the kitchen table. “Check the shelf by the desk!” he called back, his voice warm and familiar. In one smooth motion, he looped his tie into a perfect Windsor knot, fingers moving with expert precision—years of balancing superhero duties and tight Daily Planet deadlines had honed his multitasking skills to near perfection.

Moments later, Y/N emerged from the bedroom, holding his laptop charger triumphantly like a prize. His collar was only half-buttoned, his sleeves still unrolled, but he already looked every bit the driven professional Clark had admired from the moment they’d worked side by side as young interns. His hair was slightly tousled, still settling after a rushed comb-through, making him impossibly endearing.

“Found it!” Y/N announced with mock triumph, flashing Clark a cheeky grin as he hurried toward the kitchen. He grabbed his “World’s Best Partner” mug from the table and took a long, appreciative sip, savoring the warmth that seeped into his fingertips. A contented sigh escaped his lips. “You’re a lifesaver,” he said with sincere gratitude, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Clark smirked, leaning casually against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “I try,” he teased lightly, though his gaze softened as he watched Y/N sip his coffee, soaking in the familiar comfort of their shared morning ritual. It was in these small, ordinary moments that Clark felt the fullness of their life together—steady, warm, real.

Y/N gave a quick glance at the microwave clock—8:17 a.m. They were cutting it close but still technically on time if they hustled. He grabbed his well-worn messenger bag from the back of a kitchen chair and slung it over his shoulder with practiced ease. “Let’s roll,” he said with determined resolve, already mentally running through the day’s to-do list.

Just as Y/N reached for the door, Clark’s fingers gently brushed against his wrist, halting him with a soft touch. “Hey,” Clark murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something deeper.

Y/N turned, brow raised in curious question. His expression softened as he met Clark’s gaze, recognizing the quiet emotion shimmering in those piercing blue eyes.

Clark’s smile shifted into something far more tender, his earlier playfulness replaced by sincerity. “Happy ten-year anniversary,” he whispered, his voice rich with meaning, as though he still couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to be standing there, sharing this life with the person he loved.

Y/N’s expression melted instantly, the rush of the morning forgotten. He leaned in, cradling Clark’s face gently in his hands, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. The world outside seemed to pause, leaving only the warmth of their shared breath and the quiet rhythm of their hearts beating in sync.

“Happy anniversary,” Y/N whispered back, his tone filled with unwavering love. His fingers lingered against Clark’s jaw for just a moment longer, as though reluctant to let the moment end.

With one last shared smile—intimate, knowing—they turned toward the door, ready to face whatever challenges the bustling city had in store. Whatever the day might bring, they would face it together—just as they always had, and always would.

Clark stepped through the revolving doors of the bustling Daily Planet building, adjusting his signature glasses out of habit as he took in the familiar symphony of the newsroom’s organized chaos. The air buzzed with the electric energy of a new workday—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and conversations overlapping as reporters exchanged leads and debated headlines. The faint scent of fresh ink and brewed coffee lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the newsroom’s relentless pace.

A small, contented smile tugged at Clark’s lips as he strode across the polished marble floor, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tile. He felt right at home here, even after years of balancing the double life of award-winning journalist and Earth’s greatest protector. Still, even amid the familiar hustle, his mind lingered on the peaceful morning he’d shared with Y/N—the warmth of their shared coffee, the lingering kiss at the door, the whispered “Happy anniversary” that still echoed softly in his heart.

He was halfway to his desk when he found his path blocked—ambushed, really—by two familiar figures: Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen, his closest friends and trusted partners in journalistic crime. Lois stood with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised in playful expectation, while Jimmy hovered just behind her, his ever-present camera slung over his shoulder like he was ready to document something groundbreaking.

“Alright, Kent,” Lois announced with a sly smirk, tilting her head in that knowing way she always did when she was on the verge of uncovering something. “What’s the plan?”

Clark blinked, momentarily thrown off by her question. He adjusted his glasses again, a reflex whenever he felt caught off guard. “Plan? What plan?” he asked, brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

Jimmy let out an exaggerated scoff, stepping forward with wide-eyed disbelief. “The plan, Clark!” he urged dramatically. “Don’t tell me you forgot! It’s your ten-year anniversary with Y/N today!”

Clark’s eyes widened ever so slightly, though he quickly schooled his expression into one of practiced calm. “Wait—how do you two know about that?” he asked, his voice tinged with mild suspicion but tempered by curiosity.

Lois rolled her eyes, her smirk widening. “Please,” she said with mock disdain. “I’m a journalist, Clark. It’s literally my job to know things.”

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m, like, super observant. You’ve had that goofy, ‘I’m-so-in-love’ look plastered all over your face for days.” He gestured dramatically around the newsroom. “It’s practically headline news at this point.”

Clark couldn’t help but chuckle despite himself, shaking his head. “You two are unbelievable.”

Lois stepped closer, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction, though the spark of mischief never left. “Seriously, though,” she said with a bit more warmth, “you do have something special planned, right? Ten years isn’t just any anniversary.”

For a brief moment, Clark’s mind drifted to the small velvet box tucked securely in the inner pocket of his coat—the one he’d been carefully keeping out of sight all morning. The memory of its weight was reassuring, grounding him in the quiet certainty of what the evening would bring.

“Let’s just say…” Clark began slowly, his lips curving into a knowing smile, “…I might have a few surprises up my sleeve.”

Jimmy let out a dramatic gasp, clearly intrigued, while Lois arched an approving eyebrow. “Now this is a story I’m dying to see unfold,” she quipped, already imagining the possibilities.

Clark chuckled, brushing past them toward his desk. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he called over his shoulder. “No spoilers… even for journalists.”

Lois smirked knowingly while Jimmy fist-pumped in silent excitement, already speculating wildly about what Clark’s “surprise” might be. The newsroom’s steady hum continued around them, deadlines and breaking news still demanding attention—but for a brief moment, Clark allowed himself to savor the quiet anticipation bubbling within him.

Tonight would be more than just a milestone—it would be the start of something even greater. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Y/N’s face when he finally revealed what he’d been planning for weeks… and slipped that ring onto his finger.

The day carried on as usual—but for Clark, the countdown to that perfect, long-awaited moment had already begun.

The streets of Metropolis teemed with life far below as Superman soared effortlessly through the crisp morning sky, his iconic red cape billowing behind him like a banner of hope. The sharp edges of the city’s glass-and-steel skyline glinted in the morning sun, casting streaks of light across the bustling streets below. His keen eyes swept across the familiar cityscape, ever watchful, always ready.

The city pulsed with its usual symphony—honking car horns, hurried conversations, the rhythmic clang of construction equipment, and the distant chatter of morning radio shows drifting from open windows. The steady thrum of Metropolis’ indomitable spirit surrounded him, grounding him even as he hovered hundreds of feet above. To anyone else, it might have been overwhelming—chaotic—but to Clark, it was the heartbeat of home.

He had just finished assisting the Metropolis Fire Department with a hazardous warehouse fire down by the docks. The acrid scent of smoke still clung faintly to his uniform, though the crisis was long resolved. He allowed himself a rare moment of pause, suspended in the sky, arms crossed, his cape trailing like a protective shield over the city he’d sworn to protect.

Then something familiar tugged at his senses.

Cutting through the tangled web of urban noise, a voice—distinct, beloved—filtered clearly into his super-sensitive hearing.

Y/N’s voice.

Clark’s breath hitched as he stilled mid-air, hanging weightless against the wind. His sharp focus zeroed in instantly, his hearing filtering out the static of the city until only that familiar voice remained. His heart clenched with longing and quiet relief.

He traced the sound to the upper floors of a gleaming high-rise in the heart of downtown—the unmistakable, foreboding silhouette of LexCorp Tower, its sharp edges and mirrored surface reflecting the cold morning light. The sight alone made his jaw tighten, tension rippling through his frame. No matter how many years passed, Lex Luthor’s presence in Metropolis remained a constant thorn in his side.

But then Y/N spoke again, and Clark’s protective instincts flared.

“Yes, Mr. Luthor… I’ll have that report on your desk by noon,” Y/N said, his voice steady and professional, though Clark detected the faintest trace of exhaustion beneath his practiced tone. “I’ve already confirmed the logistics team’s data… Yes, sir, I’m double-checking it now.”

Clark exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. He could see Y/N in his mind’s eye—sitting at his immaculately organized desk, surrounded by gleaming tech and cool, polished steel decor, the harsh blue glow of holographic displays casting soft light over his face. His back would be straight, his sharp, tailored blazer fitting perfectly across his shoulders—a detail Y/N always insisted was necessary to “look the part.”

Clark’s chest warmed with quiet pride. Despite his unease about LexCorp—a company built on moral ambiguity and dangerous ambition—he knew Y/N. Driven, capable, relentless in his pursuit of success, yet unfailingly kind. He trusted Y/N implicitly.

Lex Luthor, on the other hand…

Clark frowned, his protective instincts prickling. Even now, he couldn’t entirely banish the concern that came with knowing Y/N worked within arm’s reach of one of the world’s most dangerous men. He strained to listen for anything out of place—any shift in Y/N’s voice, any hint of tension—but all he heard was focused professionalism.

Then, suddenly, Y/N’s voice softened—barely above a murmur—as though he believed himself to be completely alone. His tone turned warmer, more personal.

“…And maybe after work, I can figure out how to surprise you for once, Clark…”

Clark’s breath caught.

There was the faint rustling of papers, followed by a quiet, almost wistful chuckle that tugged at his heart.

“Ten years… Can you believe it?” Y/N whispered, almost as though speaking only to himself.

Clark’s expression melted into something achingly tender, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest that even the cold steel of LexCorp couldn’t diminish. For just a moment, he allowed himself this stolen glimpse into Y/N’s day—a reminder of the life they’d built together, of love that had endured through battles, secrets, and the challenges of his double life.

He hovered there, suspended in the stillness of the morning sky, wrapped in the memory of Y/N’s voice and the unspoken promise threaded through those words.

Then, from several blocks away, a sudden wail of police sirens split the air, snapping him back to reality. His gaze hardened instantly, his senses shifting back into sharp focus. The city needed him again.

But before he shot off into the wind, he cast one final, lingering glance toward the gleaming spire of LexCorp Tower, his voice a whispered promise meant only for the wind to carry:

“I love you, too.”

And then, in a streak of red and blue, he vanished into the sky—ready to protect the city he called home, and the man he loved more than anything.

The familiar creak of the front door closing echoed softly through the stillness of the cozy apartment. Clark Kent stepped inside, his broad shoulders relaxing as he shrugged off his thick, charcoal-gray overcoat. He smoothed out its fabric with practiced care before hanging it on the brass hook by the entryway, a small detail Y/N had insisted on installing when they first moved in together. The air smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla from a gently flickering candle on the bookshelf, mixing with the warm, inviting scent of home-cooked meals from memories past.

The apartment was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the dimmed overhead lights and the warm sparkle of fairy lights strung along the window. Framed photographs of shared adventures lined the walls—a snapshot from their first vacation, candid moments from friends’ weddings, and even a picture of Clark holding a grinning Y/N on his shoulders at a summer fair.

But tonight wasn’t just another ordinary evening. It was their ten-year anniversary, a milestone woven with laughter, challenges, and countless moments of quiet, steadfast love. Tonight, Clark intended to mark that journey in a way neither of them would ever forget.

With steady deliberation, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and carefully retrieved a small, velvet-covered box. He set it down gently on the cool marble countertop, as though the magnitude of what it held weighed heavier than any feat he had ever accomplished as Superman. His thumb brushed over the soft fabric of the box, tracing its edges with reverence. Inside rested a simple, timeless ring—delicate yet strong, much like the bond he shared with Y/N. He had spent months searching for the perfect piece, envisioning the way it would look on Y/N’s finger every step of the way.

Drawing a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and gently closed the box. The evening wasn’t going to prepare itself. He rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his strong forearms, and turned toward the kitchen. Fresh ingredients were laid out precisely as he had planned—Y/N’s favorite meal, every detail considered down to the garnish.

Moments later, Clark turned his attention to the living room, the heart of their shared memories. It was a space shaped by comfort and familiarity, where countless evenings had been spent wrapped in warmth and laughter. He moved with quiet purpose, selecting a small stack of their favorite movies from the shelf—classic comedies that never failed to make them laugh, heartfelt dramas that always left them holding each other a little tighter, and those feel-good romances they could recite line for line. He placed the DVDs neatly on the rustic wooden coffee table, arranging them just so, knowing Y/N would smile the moment they saw them.

Draped over the back of their well-loved couch was a thick, cozy blanket—soft, worn, and infused with memories of lazy Sundays and late-night cuddles. He smoothed out its folds, making sure it was within easy reach for when the night wound down, when dinner was just a memory, and only the quiet comfort of each other remained. A few plump, overstuffed pillows rested at each end of the couch, inviting and familiar.

The soft glow of the fairy lights strung along the window added a magical warmth to the room, their tiny bulbs twinkling like distant stars. On the coffee table, he placed a wooden tray holding two mugs—one ready for hot cocoa, the other for Y/N’s favorite tea, complete with a small jar of honey. A delicate ceramic bowl filled with chocolate-covered almonds—Y/N’s guilty pleasure—completed the thoughtful setup. Every detail was intentional, a reflection of the countless quiet nights they had shared in this very space.

But even as the living room felt ready, Clark couldn’t shake the sense that something was still missing.

He stepped back into the kitchen, enveloped once more by the inviting aroma of the special meal he’d worked so carefully to prepare. The rich scent of seared steak lingered in the air, mingling with the creamy, garlicky aroma of the mashed potatoes he’d whipped until they were impossibly smooth and buttery. The sautéed vegetables—green beans with a light char, caramelized baby carrots glistening with honey, and earthy mushrooms kissed with rosemary—were arranged in a serving dish, their vibrant colors promising comfort and warmth with every bite.

On the stovetop, the red wine sauce had reduced to perfection, its velvety richness gleaming as Clark gave it one last stir. The deep, complex fragrance of simmering shallots, garlic, and wine filled the room, tempting him to taste—but he resisted. This was for Y/N.

His gaze drifted to the marble countertop, where the decadent chocolate mousse cake he had picked up from their favorite bakery waited like the final act of a perfect evening. Its glossy, dark chocolate surface shimmered under the soft kitchen lights, adorned with delicate curls of bittersweet chocolate and a light dusting of powdered sugar. Plump, jewel-toned raspberries rested artfully around the edges, a splash of vibrant red against the dark richness of the cake.

Satisfied with the meal, Clark moved to the small dining table near the bay window. He tugged at the edges of the crisp white tablecloth, ensuring it lay perfectly smooth. Their best dinnerware gleamed in the soft light, paired with sparkling wine glasses and polished silverware arranged with precision. He folded two linen napkins into elegant triangles, placing them neatly by each plate.

At the center of the table sat a modest yet beautiful bouquet—soft blush roses, delicate white lilies, and fragrant sprigs of eucalyptus bound together with natural twine. Their gentle scent mingled with the meal’s intoxicating aromas, adding a romantic, timeless touch. Clark adjusted the bouquet slightly, ensuring it looked effortlessly perfect.

Finally, he lit three slender ivory candles in sleek, minimalist holders. Their warm, flickering flames cast a soft, golden glow across the table, their light shimmering off the delicate crystal and creating an atmosphere of quiet elegance.

With everything in place, Clark allowed himself a moment to pause. The apartment felt magical, transformed by love and intention. Yet his eyes inevitably returned to the small velvet-covered box still resting on the counter, its deep navy surface catching the candlelight like a secret waiting to be shared.

He stepped closer, brushing his thumb once again over its soft, textured fabric. Inside lay the ring—simple yet exquisitely crafted, timeless yet personal. He could still remember the moment he had found it, knowing instantly it was the one. Strong but delicate. Elegant yet enduring. Just like what they had built together.

He imagined Y/N’s face when he saw it—his wide-eyed surprise, the way his breath might hitch, the unmistakable light that would fill his eyes when he understood what Clark was asking. The thought made Clark usually steady hands tremble just a little.

It wasn’t about the meal, the setting, or even the ring.

It was about the ten years of shared memories, of challenges faced side by side, of whispered promises in the dark, and quiet mornings filled with warmth and love. It was about their story—one already filled with so much life and meaning—but with so much more yet to be written.

And tonight, Clark Kent was ready to ask Y/N to write the rest of that story with him—forever.

With dinner prepared, the apartment glowing with warmth, and every thoughtful detail in place, Clark found himself standing in front of the hallway mirror, tugging at the collar of his white dress shirt for what felt like the tenth time. His fingers smoothed the fabric, adjusting the top button, then pausing as he reconsidered, ultimately leaving it undone for a more relaxed look.

He straightened his tie, only to frown and pull it loose again. His reflection stared back, resolute but edged with vulnerability, a flicker of nerves in his usually steady blue eyes.

With a slow, measured breath, he adjusted his glasses—pointless, really, but the familiar motion gave his restless hands something to do. The thin frames rested perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though he still fiddled with them out of habit. He braced his palms against the edge of the dresser, leaning forward, forehead nearly touching the cool surface of the mirror.

“This is fine,” he murmured, voice low but firm, as though willing himself to believe it. “You’ve faced supervillains, alien invasions… even world-ending threats.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “This is just… one question.”

But this question mattered more than anything else he’d ever done.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself, and straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders back as if preparing for battle. His reflection stared back, still strong but undeniably human—vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“He’s already said yes… a thousand different ways over the past ten years,” Clark whispered, almost as though speaking the words aloud would steady his heart. “This is just… making it official.”

He ran a hand through his dark, slightly tousled hair, pushing it back in a way he knew Y/N liked. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against his temple as he let out another breath, more controlled this time. He reached into the pocket of his dress pants and pulled out the small velvet box once again.

Flipping it open, he let his eyes rest on the ring inside—simple but elegant, timeless yet meaningful. He had chosen it with absolute certainty, picturing Y/N’s hand wearing it, imagining how it would feel to place it there himself. The thought made his chest tighten—not with fear, but with overwhelming love.

For a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away. There were no distant cries for help, no looming threats or urgent responsibilities. In this quiet space, there was only the promise of forever, contained in the small, glinting circle of gold resting in the velvet folds.

A soft, affectionate smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, chasing away the last traces of doubt. His voice, low but steady, broke the silence.

“You’ve got this, Kent.”

Just then, the familiar click of the front door unlocking echoed softly through the quiet apartment. His head snapped up, heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and joy.

Y/N was home.

Clark gently closed the ring box, slipping it back into his pocket with practiced care. His pulse quickened, but his hands were steady now. He smoothed his shirt one last time, inhaling deeply, letting the love he felt ground him.

This was the moment. The beginning of something new, built on ten years of shared memories, quiet mornings, and promises unspoken but always understood.

Y/N stepped inside of the apartment, already shrugging off his coat after a long, tiring day at work. He reached out automatically to flip the light switch, expecting the familiar glow of the overhead light—but paused, his fingers hovering in midair.

Something was different.

The apartment was already softly illuminated—not by the usual bright lights, but by the gentle, flickering glow of candles scattered throughout the living room and dining area. A delicate floral fragrance, light and fresh, mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of something savory and richly seasoned wafting from the kitchen. Y/N blinked, his eyes widening as he slowly took in the transformed space before him.

The usually simple, everyday dining table was unrecognizable—draped in a pristine white tablecloth that gleamed softly under the warm candlelight. Two polished wine glasses stood side by side, catching the soft light like tiny prisms, while their best silverware lay neatly arranged on elegant dinner plates. In the center of the table sat a beautifully arranged bouquet of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and eucalyptus sprigs woven together with thoughtful care. Their delicate petals glowed softly in the candlelight, their fragrance blending seamlessly with the warm, inviting smells of home-cooked food.

Y/N’s gaze drifted toward the kitchen, where a small serving tray waited, holding a carefully plated dinner beneath a gleaming silver cover. Steam still gently wafted from beneath the lid, hinting at something savory and delicious inside. The mouthwatering scent of garlic, herbs, and seared meat hung in the air, making his stomach growl despite the emotional tightness building in his chest.

He took a tentative step forward, feeling his breath hitch as he noticed the living room. There, on the rustic coffee table, was a familiar stack of their favorite movies—the ones they always watched on cozy nights in, when they just needed to be close. A thick, cozy blanket was neatly folded over the back of the couch, inviting and familiar, ready for when the night wound down. Everything was arranged with such intention, such thoughtfulness… such love.

Y/N pressed a trembling hand over his mouth, overwhelmed by the sheer care and intimacy behind every detail. His heart thudded against his ribs, pounding with disbelief and something deeper, something warmer. Was this really happening? Did Clark… do all of this?

Before he could fully process the scene, a quiet creak of the kitchen floorboards caught his attention. He turned slowly, his breath still uneven, and his gaze landed on Clark standing just a few steps away.

Clark’s hands rested loosely at his sides, fidgeting slightly—a rare crack in his usually steady composure—but his expression was soft, warm, and impossibly tender. His deep blue eyes held an intensity that stole Y/N’s breath—not the intensity of a hero prepared for battle, but of a man utterly, irrevocably in love.

“Clark… what is all this?” Y/N whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

Clark’s lips curved into a gentle, familiar smile—the kind that had always felt like home. His eyes shimmered with warmth, reflecting ten years of shared memories, quiet mornings, and late-night talks. “Happy anniversary,” he murmured, taking a slow, measured step closer.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, his gaze flickering from the candlelit table to the familiar stack of movies—and finally back to the man who had done all of this. The man he loved with every fiber of his being. “You… you did all this… for me?” His voice cracked, disbelief and affection tangling in his throat.

Clark’s smile widened just a fraction, his eyes softening even further. “For us,” he corrected gently, his voice steady but filled with quiet vulnerability.

Y/N felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his heart swelling so much it almost hurt. Every detail—the flowers, the meal, the movies, the candles—felt like a physical manifestation of the life they had built together. A life filled with love, warmth, and quiet, shared moments that meant everything.

His hands trembled as he reached for Clark, closing the space between them in a heartbeat. His arms wrapped tightly around Clark’s strong frame, pulling him into an embrace filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t seem to say. Clark held him just as fiercely, his face burying into Y/N’s shoulder, breathing him in like he was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s breath hitched against Clark’s neck, a soft, broken sound of love and wonder. Neither of them moved for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, grounded in the familiarity and promise of what they shared.

In that moment, there was no world outside, no responsibilities, no distant cries for help—only them. Two hearts, intertwined and steady, standing at the edge of something new, something even deeper than what had come before.

Surrounded by the gentle glow of candlelight and the quiet warmth of home, Clark held Y/N tighter, silently promising that this—they—would always be his greatest adventure.

And tonight, their forever was just beginning.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered softly across the cozy apartment, casting gentle, golden light over every familiar surface. Y/N and Clark sat comfortably on the well-worn couch, plates balanced carefully on their laps while the familiar sounds of their favorite movie played quietly in the background. The soft crackle of the candles still burning on the dining table blended with the movie’s soundtrack, creating an atmosphere of warmth, intimacy, and quiet joy.

Clark had insisted on serving the meal himself, carrying each perfectly plated dish with the care of someone offering up something precious. The garlic-herb steak, creamy mashed potatoes, and perfectly sautéed vegetables looked like something from a five-star restaurant—but tasted even better. Each bite was rich, savory, and cooked exactly the way Y/N liked it.

“This is so good,” Y/N mumbled around another bite, eyes widening with genuine delight. “Seriously… did you take a secret cooking class or something? How do you always nail this?”

Clark chuckled, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish but clearly pleased. “I might’ve… practiced a little,” he admitted, his voice low and warm. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the quiet sincerity in Clark’s words. The love behind every carefully considered detail of the evening hit him all at once—the flowers, the candles, the dinner, the movies—all thoughtfully chosen, all crafted with so much care. He set his plate down on the coffee table, suddenly unable to focus on the food when something far more important was sitting right beside him.

Without a word, Y/N reached out and gently placed his hand over Clark’s, his fingertips tracing slow, familiar patterns across the back of Clark’s strong, calloused hand. The warmth of his skin was grounding, comforting, home.

“You are perfect,” Y/N whispered, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. “This whole night… the dinner, the movies, the candles… everything. It’s perfect.”

Clark’s breath caught, his eyes softening as he gently turned his hand to entwine their fingers together. His thumb traced slow, reassuring circles over Y/N’s knuckles, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” Y/N continued, his gaze never leaving Clark’s. “But you did. You always do… You always find a way to make me feel so loved.”

Clark’s breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening just a little around Y/N’s hand. His voice was low but steady, full of quiet intensity. “You are loved… more than anything… more than I could ever say.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his heart pounding with affection so deep it felt impossible to contain. Slowly, he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against Clark’s, savoring the quiet, shared connection. In that small, still moment, surrounded by the warm glow of flickering candles and the familiar hum of their shared life, nothing else existed—only them.

“Thank you… for all of this,” Y/N whispered, his voice breaking just slightly. “For everything.”

Clark smiled softly, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips gently against Y/N’s in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow, filled with all the love and devotion words could never fully express. His hand cupped Y/N’s cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as he deepened the kiss just enough to make the world fall away.

When they finally parted, their foreheads still resting together, Clark’s voice was barely above a whisper—but steady and sure.

“There’s still… one more thing.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, curiosity sparking in his expression. “What do you mean?”

Clark’s hands trembled ever so slightly as he reached for Y/N’s, threading their fingers together with practiced ease, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of that touch. His heart pounded with a mixture of nerves and anticipation, but the feel of Y/N’s hand in his steadied him, like it always had.

“Come with me,” Clark whispered softly, his voice low but sure.

Y/N blinked in surprise but let Clark gently guide him off the couch and into the softly glowing living room. The flickering candlelight cast a warm halo around them, creating a setting that felt timeless, intimate, and entirely their own. Y/N’s expression shifted from curious to something deeper, something tender, as he felt the subtle tension in Clark’s usually steady grip.

Clark exhaled slowly, forcing himself to breathe, to be fully present in this moment he’d imagined countless times. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over Y/N’s knuckles—a silent reassurance for both of them. When he finally met Y/N’s gaze, his deep blue eyes shimmered with emotion—vulnerable but unwavering, filled with love so profound it left no room for doubt.

“Y/N…” Clark began, his voice trembling just enough to reveal how much this meant to him. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say… something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his lips parting slightly in surprise, but he stayed quiet, his gaze steady, urging Clark to continue.

Clark tightened his hold ever so slightly, his hands enveloping Y/N’s like a protective barrier, keeping them both anchored in this moment. His voice grew steadier, though still thick with emotion.

“From the very first moment I saw you… back in high school… I knew,” Clark said softly, his eyes shining with memory and meaning. “I didn’t know exactly what ‘forever’ looked like back then… but I knew you were going to be someone important. The someone.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered, already brimming with unshed tears as the weight of Clark’s words settled over him.

“We’ve built this incredible life together,” Clark continued, his voice deepening with quiet intensity. “Through moves, jobs… everything life’s thrown at us. And through it all… I’ve known one thing with absolute certainty.” He swallowed hard, his lips quirking into the faintest, most affectionate smile. “I want to spend every day, every moment… with you.”

Y/N’s breath shuddered as a tear slipped free, trailing slowly down his cheek.

Clark’s eyes softened even further as he gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I thought about this night so many times… about what I’d say… but I kept coming back to something you said once.”

Y/N blinked, his brow furrowing faintly as he tried to recall.

“It was a long time ago… back when we first talked about marriage,” Clark murmured, his deep voice softening into something reverent, as if he were holding a fragile, cherished memory in his hands. His gaze lowered for a brief moment, lost in the weight of what he was about to say. When he looked back up, his eyes gleamed with something raw and unguarded—love, hope, and nostalgia woven together.

“‘Don’t marry me just because we’ve been together forever…’” he repeated, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he spoke the familiar words. “You said that to me.”

The memory hit Y/N like a crashing wave—vivid, intimate, and achingly familiar. It had been during one of those long, late-night talks when the world outside didn’t matter, and the future felt like a distant, untouchable dream. Y/N remembered the quiet stillness of that night, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating Clark’s thoughtful expression as they both lay tangled together, speaking from the heart without hesitation.

Clark’s warm fingers brushed gently over Y/N’s, grounding him in the present even as his words pulled him back to that deeply personal moment. His touch was familiar, steady, and reassuring—the same touch Y/N trusted through every joy, every storm, every uncertain tomorrow.

His voice softened even further, dipping into something more intimate, more earnest, as though he were speaking directly to your soul. “‘Marry me because you want to,’” he continued, his thumbs tracing slow, tender circles over the backs of Y/N’s hands. “‘Because you can’t see yourself with anyone else. Marry me… because you love me.’”

Y/N’s breath hitched as those words echoed through him, every syllable steeped in memory and meaning. They weren’t just words from the past—they were a promise him had once made without realizing how much they would come to define his future.

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, blurring the sight of Clark’s face, but Y/N could still see the love etched into every line, every tender curve of his expression. His gaze held Y/N’s with such fierce intensity that it felt like nothing else in the world existed—just the two of them, tethered by a shared history and an undeniable, enduring love.

Clark’s hands tightened around Y/N’s just slightly—not possessive, but grounding—anchoring them both in the weight of the present. His breath hitched as he whispered, “I never forgot those words… not for a second.”

His voice cracked, just faintly, but he pressed on, his expression resolute and filled with quiet determination. “I don’t want to marry you because of how long we’ve been together… or because it’s ‘what comes next.’ I want to marry you because there’s no one else I could ever imagine standing beside me. No one else I want to build a future with… grow old with.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening as he whispered, “I want to marry you… because I love you.”

Y/N let out a soft, broken laugh, tears spilling freely now as he clung to Clark’s every word.

Clark’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with emotion. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto one knee, his gaze never wavering, his hands still cradling Y/N’s as though letting go was unthinkable. With quiet reverence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box he’d carried close to him all night. His fingers trembled only slightly as he opened it, revealing the simple yet elegant ring—a perfect symbol of the love they had built: enduring, strong, timeless.

“I do, Y/N,” Clark whispered, his voice raw with unguarded emotion. “I love you… endlessly. I see my forever… and it’s you. It’s always been you.”

His gaze softened further, shimmering with hope, love, and absolute certainty. “Will you… will you marry me?”

The room seemed suspended in breathless stillness—time stretching endlessly in the space between the question and the answer. Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as a choked, tearful laugh escaped his lips. He covered his mouth for just a second, overcome, before reaching down and pulling Clark up into his arms with a fierce, unrestrained embrace.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered, voice trembling but resolute. “Yes. A thousand times… yes.”

Clark let out a shaky, relieved laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N like he never intended to let go. Their foreheads pressed together, tears mingling as they clung to the enormity of the moment—the life they had already built and the future they were now promising.

Time seemed to stop the moment Clark gently slid the ring onto Y/N’s finger. His large, warm hands trembled just enough for you to notice, though his grip remained steady and sure—like he was grounding himself in the reality of this moment. Clark’s ocean-blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, swirling with relief, joy, and an overwhelming depth of love that stole Y/N’s breath away. His expression softened as though the weight of anticipation he’d been carrying for weeks had finally lifted.

For a moment, all Y/N could do was stare at the ring sparkling brilliantly in the soft candlelight. Its elegance and meaning were undeniable, but even its beauty couldn’t compare to the way Clark was looking at Y/N—like he were the most precious, extraordinary person in the world, the very center of his universe.

Emotion swelled in Y/N’s chest, leaving him speechless. Tears blurred his vision, but through the shimmering haze, he could still see Clark—standing there, still holding his hand like he couldn’t bear to let go, his breath uneven as he searched your face for reassurance that this was real.

With every ounce of love, joy, and unspoken promise between them, Y/N closed the distance and pulled Clark into the most heartfelt, soul-deep kiss they had ever shared. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—it was steady, certain, and profound, like the turning of the earth, like something that had always been meant to happen.

Their lips met with a softness that carried ten years of shared history—nights spent laughing until their sides hurt, quiet mornings tangled in sheets as sunlight streamed through the windows, whispered promises exchanged in the dark when the world felt too heavy. This kiss held all of that—and more. It was the culmination of a thousand moments, big and small, that had built the life they shared.

Clark’s hands came up slowly, almost reverently, cradling Y/N’s face with a tenderness that spoke of how deeply he cherished this moment. His fingers brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his touch light but grounding, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His lips moved against Y/N’s with aching sincerity, pouring his heart into the connection, into the unspoken vow that they would never have to let go.

Y/N’s arms wrapped securely around Clark’s broad shoulders, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them—only warmth, only love, only them. He felt Clark’s breath hitch ever so slightly against his mouth, felt the way his shoulders relaxed as though the weight of the world had finally fallen away, leaving only this perfect, timeless moment.

The soft glow of the candles flickered gently around them, casting dancing shadows across the familiar walls of their home. The delicate scent of roses and eucalyptus lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the comforting warmth still radiating from the hearth of the kitchen. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, quiet and still, as though honoring something sacred unfolding in that small, candle-lit apartment.

But the only warmth they truly felt was the steady, enduring fire they had always kindled in each other—the kind of warmth built over years of shared dreams, quiet comforts, and unconditional love.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling as they lingered in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Y/N’s fingers gently traced the edge of Clark’s jaw, his touch still trembling from the overwhelming rush of emotion. Clark’s eyes opened slowly, his deep blue gaze shining with love, awe, and absolute certainty.

“I love you,” Clark whispered, voice thick with emotion, as though the words weren’t nearly enough but still everything he needed to say.

Y/N smiled through tears that still shimmered in his eyes, his own voice breaking. “I love you… so much.”

Their fingers entwined again, holding on as though they never intended to let go—and they didn’t. They wouldn’t. This was forever.

Their story—already filled with so much life, so many memories and shared adventures—was only just beginning.

And in the soft, golden glow of their home, surrounded by the quiet beauty they had built together, they stood hand in hand—ready to write the next chapter, together.

[visionsofmagic]

day 13: clark kent [aftercare]

࿓ synopsis • after having a rough session with clark, you let him take care of your exhausted body.

―❦ nsfw, kissing, soft!clark, after a rough sex, f!reader, pet names, confessing, cleaning, washing, watching, fluff, i's all! • 0.6k • couldn't publish sooner, but, here we are at least. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

"agh -" you say, moaning lowly, in pain that comes from your sensitive clit as clark's fingers travel on it, cleaning you under the warm water.

“oh, baby,” he says, fingers stop for a moment, eyes scanning your face; furrowed brows, lips are getting a bite, hands hold him from the neck and chest as a source of cure and stability at the same time. “you okay? I can go slower if you want.”

he proposes as you sit on his lap, hugging him, and negatively shaking your head while one of his strong arms holds you from back so that you stay still, warm water waving from time to time as you move in sync.

sitting on the clean bathtub, you let clark take care of you after one of your roughest sex – you can see all the redness on your body which he left intentionally yet acting so innocent when he sees them, fingers caressing your soft skin gently as if he wasn’t the one who fucked you in different positions, earning a pathetic state out of you, nearly making you use the safe word because of how good he was fucking you and how much you wanted it to end even though your actions told otherwise.

fear of fainting, you stopped when he got your fourth orgasm, then, cumming all over you as he cries in pleasure, confessing how you make him so weak that he loses mind whenever he has you beside him, under him, above him – in every way he can, he loves it, he loves you.

so it’s not a surprising thing when he picked you up from the messy bed after preparing the bathtub for you to wash and get clean, got into it, taking you into his arms, making you feel smaller yet quite peaceful, letting him do whatever he wants to do to get you cleaned up, ready to rest on the bed you are sharing with him beside you.

he said sorry over and over again until you said it was okay – that you enjoyed every bit of it because you missed him as much as he missed you.

fingers gripping your chin, he makes you look at his shining blue eyes – your own reflection on them. he smiles widely, fingers moving to your hair, caressing it gently, still having that precious expression on his face, looking like a greek god yet feeling so human – one of his kind, always.

“you have no idea how much I missed you,” he says, now taking warm water on his palm, then, cleaning your naked body within it – he seems to have guilt because of what he has done to you; biting marks as he claimed you shine brightly, red marks on your waist is visible due to holding you tightly as he shoved his cock into you, the neck has pink colors because how he held it, pushing your face onto the pillow so that you could moan as much as you wanted while he had you from behind.

all because of him.

he would never hurt you, he didn’t either, yet, he seems a bit sorry. however, you know he also has prideful feelings, so, you smile softly, resting your head on his wide shoulders, saying, “they all will heal, don’t feel sorry – it was so good that I can’t wait to get better and do all those things again.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead, and then, your whole face, “then get better soon because there are lots of things that I want to do to you, my prettiest girl.” with that, he kisses you one more time. he cleans you, drying you with the softest towel, changes the sheets, and puts you on the fresh bed, taking his side beside you – hugging you, he watches how peaceful your face looks, smiling down at you, and sleeping as he has you close enough to himself – he knows he should leave soon enough yet being with you seems as the right thing to do. he missed you so much after all – the world can wait a bit longer.

[boypied]

AFTER CLASS.

pairings: professor!clark kent x male reader

summary: male readers professor is continuously distracted by his choice of clothing, so he decides to see him after class.

requested by: anonymous

warnings: SMUT, age gap, teacher x student, feminization, dirty talk, edging.

You did it on purpose. You loved how flustered he became when you walked into a room. His glasses practically fogged up the moment you arrived to class, you always made sure to wear the most seductive and slutty outfit known to man. You arrived with knee high socks and a short-short skirt that showed your thong with every step you took, Clark couldn't take his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. He knew he should look at you this way. You practically became a sex symbol to him. You were his student and he was your teacher but he almost didn't even care, he wanted you... he needed you. He had developed an unhealthy obsession with you, and that is exactly what you wanted. He asked you to stay behind after class, and you nibbled at your lip, fantasising about what he could want.

After everyone leaves the class you make your way over to his desk, you lean onto the desk giving him fuck me eyes. "So.." He mumbles out nervously as he clears his throat "You can't keep wearing clothes like that y/n. It's distracting." Clark mumbles out avoiding eye contact with you, "You don't like what I wear sir?" you say seductively as you make your way round the desk to get to him. He clears his throat and manages to finally make eye contact with you, "your clothing is just very distracting." Clark repeats himself as he sits down in his seat trying to ignore what you're currently wearing, "is this distracting?" You lean down to whisper in his ear as you bend over in front of him revealing your pink thong to him.

"You like that sir?" You say seductively as you begin to bounce your ass up and down letting him watch the jiggle, he leans down slightly in awe feeling his suit trousers becoming tighter as he grows harder and harder watching you put on the little show for him. He rubs his eyes "no, no! We can't do this" he mumbles out. You bend back up and straddle his lap, his hands immediately hovering over your hips and then gently pulling up your skirt revealing your bare ass cheeks with the thin pink string of the thong perfectly hiding your hole. "f-fuck" Clark nervously moans out as he caresses circles over your cheeks, "I know you want to fuck me professor...do it" you whisper.

You climb off his lap and begin unbuttoning his shirt, peice by peice a section of his body is revealed until his entire torso is revealed to you, you run your hands down his hairy chest. "W-Wow" you mumble out in shock feeling his hard body, your hands travel down to his trousers pulling off the belt and practically ripping off his trousers and pants. "WOW!" You gasp out as his cock practically hits you in the face, the size of his cock was almost unearthly. You bite your lip as you climb back onto his lap and line up his cock with your hole as you slide down onto it. Inch by inch a peice of his cock corrupts your hole, he wraps his arms around your waist as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks.

"Takin' me so well," he groans out in your ear as he passionately kisses you, your tongues sliding against each other as he begins to buck his hips up into you, "f-faster" You moan out as he hits your sweet spot. You bounce faster and faster until he takes over and dominates your hole by bucking his hips up. Clark's abs flex as he comes closer and closer with each buck of his hips into his students' hole, "s-so tight. You keep squeezing me" he moans out before his cock begins spurting his seed into your hole, you continue bouncing on his thick cock through his orgasm. "A-AH" he whimpers out as you ride him harder in his chair.

You reach your breaking point when you shoot your load all over his abs as he continuously hits your sweet spot. You collapse down onto his chest, and he rubs your back softly, "Why don't you come back to mine tonight?" He whispers into your ear, "mhm" you answer softly as his cock becomes flaccid and slips out of your cum filled hole.

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

[ladylaviniya]

Daddy's Final Deal

Oneshot Summary: Your possessive Step-Father Bruce Wayne decides he cannot bare you leaving for college...so he leans on a friend who shares the same obsession for you. He offers him a deal.

Oneshot Warning: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, CNC, Grooming (all characters are of legal age.) Bondage, P in V, Oral Sex, Threesome, Exhibition, Vouyerism, pseudo-incest between step-father & step daughter, pimping if you squint, breeding kink if you squint. No condoms/unsafe sex.

Word Count: 10.2k

Author Notes: This is a gift for @cardierreh15 after a playful dare. I hope you enjoy this babe 🥺✨

Gently laid on soft satin bed sheets, your thoughts were consumed with the evening discussion that you had during supper with your step-father Bruce and his best friend Clark, followed by the unexpected marriage proposal Clark had made. You were surprised Clark had wanted your hand for any other purpose than for your step-father’s wealth– you would have never guessed his feelings for your because he was usually so calm and friendly with everyone. Yet he had asked you softly if you would consider being his wife with a warm smile, and you knew he was serious from the glint in his eyes. It was like your lungs were drowning with how difficult it was to breathe.

For the first time, your heart stirred, void of fear and worry.

You didn’t outright decline his offer, but a decision of this magnitude deserved more than a hasty reply. You had to think this through being that you were so caught if guard in the first place, so you demurred by saying you needed time to think about your official answer. After all, you were just a month away from starting college. You wanted to be a journalist like Clark despite Bruce’s protests and alternative encouragement for you to remain home and attend charity balls with him. Besides, Clark was a bit too old…a little younger than Bruce but both men still had twenty years on you.

If age wasn’t the defining taboo, you had noted Clark was a gentleman who had the ability to make you laugh. If anything was to happen to Bruce or Alfred, you felt Clark would be the most reliable shoulder to lean against.

You rolled over and sighed, you held your blanket up to your chin and continued to ponder.

Clark Kent...he would be a decent husband, but did you have feelings for him? He was rather charming and undeniably handsome. It was something that you would probably lose sleep over in the future.

Clark had approached the topic very calmly, almost shyly, and Bruce had seemed to be expecting this. That made it obvious to your that Clark had asked your step-father first, and Bruce would not have let his best friend ask you if he did not approve first...Bruce in fact was smiling at dinner and that smile fell when you have your polite neutral response.

Suddenly the wine he had let your drink felt a little sickly in your belly. You excuses yourself as soon as you could to your bedroom.

You rolled over in your sheets and sighed softly, snuggling up under the thick duvet and nuzzling the thousand-dollar pillows. It confused you, but the more you thought about it, the less absurd it became. You giggled. Clark would make a very good husband, and you would be lucky to have someone such as him, of such a good but firm character, always with an easy smile or an encouraging word for you. And he had always been a good friend to you, respecting your interests in writing, sometimes babying you, which girls your age might find annoying but you didn’t mind.

The boys your age were so horny and stupid...immature. it was impossible to see them as providers for the families that they claimed to want for themselves.

So saying “yes” to Clark would feel a little weird to you, but what real reason was there to say no? Did you have someone else? You might’ve shared kisses along your teens in highschool, yet none of them swept you off your feet enough to like them.

You were just glad that Clark had agreed to let your think about it. His smile had been relaxed, and he showed no anger or resentment. His eyes did appear tighter, other than that it even seemed as if he had expected your hesitation and was willing to wait. Clark was always so understanding, why wouldn’t he be about such an important question like this?

You shut your eyes with a smile.

★★★

Meanwhile, the men remained downstairs in the library, in front of the fireplace, and Clark looked across the flames at his best friend.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this Bruce?” he asked.

The men had known each other for years and had grown a close bond in friendship and other activities. And if course it was bound to slip from one man’s lips to the other about their depraved thoughts, desires and fantasies....it turns out they shared a common denominator... You.

Over a month ago they were sitting in the same place discussing the same issue about to occur...losing you.

They knew if you left for college, you’d meet some cocky asshole studying to be a lawyer or doctor, get pregnant, get married quickly only to suffer a uncommitted marriage and end in a heart breaking divorce.

What type of men would they be if they watched their favourite girl fall to such demise as that!?

Bruce had married your mother when you were fourteen and he was the best dad you could ever ask for. He helped with your homework and taught you to swim while he paid for your mother’s chemo therapy.

When she died three years ago, you’d just finished highschool. You were totally shattered and put off summer break and college until you knew you were prepared. But now Clark had dumped the marriage proposal.

Clark sighed. His best friend's idea wasn’t totally a surprise to him. Bruce had planned this.

Clark recalled how Bruce was constantly looking out for you; his protectiveness as a stepfather, while perhaps misguided, was undeniably apparent. It was clear that he cared about you deeply and had shown no interest in any other woman since the passing of his wife—your mother. Clark often caught Bruce gazing at you with a loving and compassionate gaze, as if he were contemplating the best way to look after you.

During those days Clark was scared to share his own perverse thoughts...oh how the man wanted to look after you. You always were so lovely around him, so eager to gain his attention and praise, perhaps as another fatherly figure she could cling to...It wasn’t hard for Bruce to see that Clark loved you dearly and was clearly proud of your accomplishments. Clark was proud like a second father.... Except he wanted to do things no father should ever do to their little girls. He almost lost it one day when he walked in on you, on your hands and knees scrubbing the carpet before Alfred could find the stains you’d made when stealing some red whine from Bruce’s cellar. Your skirt was a tad too short, the hem pulled up over your ass cheeks and crotch. Clark held back from ripping those white nylon leggings with those cute pink panties and shoving his cock deep in your tight cunt.

He wondered if Bruce ever found out about the stain...he touched himself imagining Mister Wayne spanking his wayward little minx of a daughter over his knees.

Clark wanted you. Bruce wanted you and the moment they both figured it out, neither of them could judge each other for their thoughts....

They decided Clark would ask for your hand and the billionaire of Gotham would give his best friend his blessing – on one condition.

The idea was foul and taboo, and Clark was not sure whether he should deny to it or not. But this was his best friend, the loving step-father who cared about the young woman Clark wanted to marry as much as he did if not more. You had shared things in the past, and whenever you had debated or ‘fought’ over things, it was always light hearted, and never bitter.

“Of course I do, if not now then not ever Clark....” Bruce replied with a brief nod, “Tonight might be the only chance we get.”

Clark nodded slowly for a moment. Yes, he cared for you and had done so for a long time. He was happy that when he asked, you had not acted with shock or revulsion. But you had seemed surprised and hesitant, and he could not blame your for being shy and uncertain.

“What if she says no?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes darkened, “She will...at first. Are you capable of pushing through that Kent?”

The super man smirked sickly. Of course he could. Clark nodded.

“She is going to be scared,” Bruce replied with certainty as he slowly turned his head towards the stairway out in the hall that led to your wing of the mansion, “I have been expecting this since her mother died, I doubt she remembers that night…”

Clark sighed, “I recall you letting her drink. She was a giggling and crying mess when I carried her to her room to have a nap.”

Bruce curled his lips inward, and he nodded. The silence grew strained.

Clark’s eyes furrowed in curiosity, “Bruce…are you hiding something from me?”

“She…” his friend paused, his grey eyes grew hazed as he looked into the flames, “When you left, I went to check up on her,” he thrummed his fingers on his chin, “She was touching herself Clark... and I caught her and…well…she…” his eyes met the other man again.

Clark sat back in his leather seat, his throat bobbed, “You watched until the end?” the was no judgement merely a question to acknowledge what had happened.

The other man nodded again and continued, “I came in after she finished, she was half out of it. So when I tucked her in, she kissed me…fully…and…god Clark…she- she’s so beautiful, I can’t watch her go off to college.…”

The journalist exhaled and clenched his jaw.

And Bruce sighed, “That’s why my little girl is going to be pregnant tonight.”

Clarks eyes widened, his lips parted hesitantly. That was not in the original plan...He paused and struggled to find the right words. Bruce had given Clark the greatest opportunity and the wrong word would revoke all that granted privilege.

“We both care about you,” the billionaire sucked his teeth, “Forget what the tabloids will say. They are hypocrites with absolutely no moral sense. Afterall mr superman, aren’t you rubbing shoulders at the daily planet, surely you can take care of the backlash? We aren’t blood related and c’mon we have a right to her better than anyone on this cold spinning rock. With my wealth and your muscles, who else would take better care of her? No one else!” Bruce said fiercely, although his voice was a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Clark found himself frozen in place, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. It took him a moment to process all the emotions and thoughts that surged around inside him. Finally, he managed to nod his head slowly, as he tried to take in the unexpected turn of events.

“Okay Wayne,” his lips broke into a dark chuckle, “Lets go put a baby in our little girl.”

The wooden door your bedroom creaked open slowly. A bit of light from the hallway made its way past Bruce’s bulk form, illuminating his step-daughter’s face. When he whispered your name, you did not stir, and he smiled to himself. He turned around to Clark and nodded. The two of them moved forward stealthily. Bruce carefully slid his arms under the blanket, finding your form before scooping it up. You stirred but did not wake. Bruce carefully carried you to his master bedroom, a place he scarcely let you enter for the obvious reason of what he kept secret in his drawers. Clark shut the doors and locked them, heaven forbid Alfred managed to walk into this event.

It would be more comfortable here for the three of you, and warmer with how Bruce kept an electric fireplace and big flat screen tv on the wall. The flames continued dancing cheerily as Bruce gently laid his step-daughter down, looking at you with a small smile.

Several moments passed before Bruce lowered his hand, gently moving his hand under your nightie chemise, his hot palm over your stomach. The mattress dipped on both sides keeping you balanced. Another set of fingers creeped up your thighs. Since the touches were so gentle, you did not stir so easily. Clark watched silently, his heart pounding as Bruce slowly lifted your hem up showing off a set of fresh underwear he allowed you to buy with the allowance credit card.

A cute pair of cotton white panties with a soft yellow duck print on top of the crotch. Clark swallowed hard. His thumb scarcely brushed over your damp apex. A small wet spot was beginning to spread. You softly cooed, still not awake…surely dreaming of something naughty by what Clark could smell.

Bruce glanced at Clark before looking back at you, and carefully untied the small strings that held the top bust of your nightie closed. His hands were steady as he parted the folds.

And there they laid their eyes on your breasts, Clark had to hold back a loud sharp intake of breath. Your nipples were perfect, and he found himself craving to suckle them. Your nipples hardened slightly as the slight coolness of the air tickled them.

You groaned softly, your eyelids fluttering open. You shifted and rolled over onto your side, looking around in confusion.

‘Where am I? Where’s my cuddle pillow?’

You rubbed your eyes and registered that you were with your step-father and Clark…on Bruce’s bed…. Both men were staring down at you silently, and you gasped when you realised your nightie was open. You held back a shriek and quickly whipped it closed before shoving the hem of your nightie down past your knees.

‘What am I doing out of my bed and with my chest exposed? Why we my nightie up so high? Did they see my underwear?’

Bruce's faint smile and Clark's gentle expression might have brought you ease, but the situation was too strange.

‘Why was my nightie been untied and opened? Why was it so far up my legs? Did one of them do it?’

The idea was...absurd. But what else would have happened? You were not in the habit of sleepwalking. You tied your nightie closed and quickly sat up, looking at the two men.

“I um…Is...something wrong, Dad?” you asked oh so innocent and naively as you sat up, feeling Bruce’s thick blue cotton blankets under your body. Bruce’s large and callused hand gently grasped your upper arm, softly stroking it as if to comfort you. His kind smile stayed on his face, unmoving even as he shook his head. His quiet demeanour continued to soothe you with each moment, despite the overwhelming emotions swirling through your mind.

“Nothing is wrong sweetheart, you-…” he breathed, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your step-father was an affectionate man, giving your mother and you hugs often whenever you wanted them, but in all these years...he had never caressed your cheek like this. His thumb ran softly over your lips intimately.

Briefly turning your head to inspect Clark, you found there was nothing about his body language denoting immediate danger. He even leaned in slightly and rested a hand on your knee, shifting even closer toward you.

You sighed softly in comfort...until he said, “You...Don’t need to be afraid....”

Your eyes widened, “Be afraid of what?” you asked. Like some strange horror, the dotes were slowly connecting. The air around you felt taut. You were confused and even Clark could hear how your heart was beating faster, anxiously. Your lips parted slightly, but what could you say, surely they weren’t going to…were they? Why were they looking at you in that way? Why did they look so...hungry?

Bruce smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead directing your attention back to him. Without answering your question, he tilted your chin up and sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss, his lips pressing against you in a firm manner.

Your eyes popped wider as you suddenly pulled away from the kiss. While other boys had given you tender kisses before in your youth, none had done it quite as passionately as Bruce, your own step-father. His kiss was gentle yet deep, unlike anything you had experienced before. The sensation of his tongue inside your mouth and the minty flavour of his breath filled your senses, making you feel both awkward and ashamedly excited.

Having predicted the situation, Clark quickly got behind you. You felt his thick toned arms snaked around you in a caging hug, holding you firmly in place. Bruce smiled and put his hands on your hips, leaning in and quickly resuming the contact of your lips. You couldn’t lift your arms to shove him away. Your head was pressed against Clark’s chest, unable to break free although you wiggled about furiously, trying to move to the side.

Clark's arms held you in place firmly, pinning your own arms. His hands were spread across your chest and stomach, while his mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Stay nice and still for Daddy and me hm?”

He ducked his nose a deeper and traced his lips along your soft skin, kissing along the shape of it as Bruce deepened his seductive French kissing for a moment before breaking it. You had been unable to break it since his hands cupped your face. A soft whimper escaped your lips as Clark started licking along your earlobe, and you gasped softly when he suddenly blew on the wet trail he had just left.

“Easy baby, you need to calm down… Please,” Clark whispered softly, kissing your neck and ear as Bruce placed light kisses along your cheek.

Your step-father smiled and pinched the front of your nightie down and open just a bit to expose your shoulders and collar bone, which he lavished in more wet kisses.

The attention being given to you by both men were gentle, but the whole situation was frightening to you. You knew you should’ve tried to bite their ears, but how could you harm them? The two men you cared about? The man stroking you was your step-father, how could he want to do this? And more importantly, how could Clark just let it happen?

“Please,” you jerked your head back, fruitless from breaking away from their searing kisses, “Let me go...I need to sleep...” you whimpered softly.

“Sh- shh-hh...” Bruce shushed hotly, suckling gently upon the part where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you gave a soft cry when you felt him nip gently.

“... D-dad, Clark I-, please...don’t” you whimpered. You turned your head to look up at Clark, looking for an answer. Clark merely gave you that warm, wide smile and captured your lips, closing his eyes as he kissed you with a gentle passion.

Your lashes fluttered, his lips were soft and he was not nearly as forceful as Bruce. He coaxed you to comply. The tiniest of moans left your mouth and filled his.

You shifted again as your step-father worked at your nightie, tugging it open some more. You gave out a weak mewl when Clark broke the kiss. You trembled under Bruce’s dancing fingers.

“Did- did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, the corners of your eyes watered. Had your step-father been expecting you to say ‘yes’ to Clark? Was he mad at you? Why was he also here kissing you like this?

This was your own step-father, the man who had raised you since you were fourteen. The man that had married and fucked your own mother. The betrayal felt like a deep and sharp cut. Is this how he saw you? Just some girl he could manipulate when she was of consenting age? You felt sick...and angry. It was practically incest, it was an abomination!

You could barely contain the whimpers and spurting tears rising.

Your question was ignored as the two men made short work of your entire dress, two pairs of hands removing it while keeping your restrained. You could barely contain your squeals when the fabric ripped. Bruce grunted as he tore through and tugged the damn thing from your goosebump skin.

Clark's hands caressed your belly while Bruce's moved to cup your breasts.

Bruce gave a shuddering breath and weighed them in his hands. They were so soft and succulent. He had dreamed of doing this to you many times, for so long during your sweet innocent hugs he’d sneakily brush his fingers against your chest whenever he could to steal and imagine how great your tits would one-day feel in his hands.

All of his expectations were met, and exceeded. And there was still more to see, to explore.

“Please, tell me! Why!?” you demanded. Clark's grip on your arms were gentle but very firm, and you could not scratch either of them. Bruce smiled at you fondly. He cupped your cheeks again and cooed.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong babygirl. This isn't a punishment. See... We both want you to know how much we love you,” his face leant for and licked at your salty cheek.

“And it’s not like you have a good reason to say no to Daddy and I.” Clark whispered while Bruce fondled your breasts, pinching the hard nipples between his fingertips in a careful way. Clark peered down at what his friend was doing and observed your soft breasts. He was eager for his own turn to feel them, but he was not going to rush his friend. They had agreed to share and be fair about it, and he knew Bruce was a man of his word.

“… No good reason to say no?” you asked, your heart pounding, although your question was barely more than a whisper. They both nodded. Clark smiled and kissed your cheek before touching his nose against it in a loving nuzzle.

He cupped and massaged one breast, giving a brief nod to his friend before shifting his eyes towards your other breast.

Clark moved one hand and took your right breast, which Bruce had offered, and began to fondle it while Bruce played with your left one. Bruce was firmer in his kneading, and Clark was gentle as his fingers skimmed along the underside of the mound, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Both hands felt so good on you, and you squirmed around, afraid to submit to any pleasure from this shocking situation.

“Please... please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Alfred, please let me go now. Let me go. Leave me alone! I'm your step-daughter! Bruce! Y-you’re meant to be my Dad!” you pleaded, trying to get through to your step-father as he gave your breast a very firm, although not painful squeeze.

Bruce chewed his bottom lip and moved away. He got off the bed and watched his best friend touch you. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his blouse. His chest was covered in dark and silvery hairs. He fiddled with his belt buckle. His trousers fell to his ankles. His hand dove into his briefs.

Your eyes flooded with more tears. You were staring at Bruce’s erection.

“Come on princess...You know we won’t hurt you. Ever... Don’t be scared, relax, enjoy and be a good little girl…” Bruce said softly, climbing back on the bed he reached out and started caressing your arms.

You couldn’t help it, you screamed and tried to kick your step-father away with your legs as hard as you could. You hated that you had to hurt him like this. Clarks heavy hand clamped down on your squealing mouth

Bruce shook his head, slapping your kicking heels away. His lips curled into a mean sneer as he leant forward and tweaked your nipples, sending a jolt of pain through your chest.

You yelled out behind Clarks hand, trying to bite down on his palm. He didn’t flinch once. His nose flared, he was a little irritated with your teeth sinking into his skin.

“Better stop screaming sweetheart or Daddy’s going to have to put a gag in that little mouth of yours,” Bruce ground between his gritted teeth.

Your pleas were not doing the trick, and your desperate kicks weren’t either. They both played with your breasts and Bruce chuckled, drawing your nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly on the hard nub.

Clark bodily drifted his hand down between your legs, touching your duckling and creeping down further to your damp crotch. His fingers strong and hard, lazily rubbed in circles. Both of them seemed acutely aware of the pleasure that you were feeling at their attention even as you pleaded with them and tried to deny it. It only spurred them on and made them want your more.

“Daddy, stop it!” you wailed, “This is wrong and you know it too Clark!” you flung yourself backwards and tried to push the other male off you.

The man let your nipple free and looked into you's eyes. It had been so long since you had called him 'Daddy', having abandoned it for 'Dad' or just 'Bruce' in later years.

“Pumpkin…” he said, grabbing your wrists, giving Clark enough time to move away. Bruce pushed you back hard onto the mattress and sat on your ankles, holding your wrists down as he clouded you in his body. He hovered above you. You trembled violently, weeping hard.

“This is going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it,” his head lifted, “You finished stripping Clark?” he asked.

Your eyes flashed up. Your point of you made the world appear upside down. Clark sat his glasses on the bed side table...it was the last thing he wore.

“Bottom drawer, there’s a roll of duct tape.”

Clark nodded and pulled it out. The colour surprised him ...it was pink. Clark planned to use it on you one way or another, no matter what

Bruce trailed his nose across your face and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Trust your Daddy. Have I ever done anything to you that proved harmful?” Bruce asked softly, his blue eyes filled with a pleading for your understanding. You fell silent as you slowly shook your head whimpering and breaking down at the tearing sound of the pink duct tape. Bruce pushed your wrists together. The sticky sensation bound around your wrists tightly. He had always been such a loving step-father. But this went past the bounds of a step-father.

“No... b-bu-tt this-s... we're n-not...d-daddy, y-youre meant to be m-m-my dad-daddy...” Your voice was breaking, a soft pathetic whine as you pleaded, “Clar-k h-elp me.”

Bruce’s eyes glanced up at Clark. A tiny nod. Another rip and the tape was pushed flat against your sobbing mouth.

Clark rejoined you both on the bed and held your hands down for Bruce as the man bent down taking your nipple into his mouth again, his tongue rubbing it firmly as he suckled. A chest rattling gasp was muffled behind the tape.

Clark held you, massaging your other breast. You started to feel the fiery tingle between your legs. You were a virgin, but you were not stupid, and had touched that special place before...shame filled your mind because truly how much of a monster were you for being aroused by... your own step-father?

Despite the pleasure, you were afraid. You wiggled against Clark, twisting your arms and whining softly.

Clark's hands were gentle yet firm, and he held you in place even as you twisted. He moaned softly against your neck, and you felt the underside of his arousal along side Bruce’s, both touching the outsides of your thighs.

"Bruce...I need her,” he whispered, “Let me fuck your precious princess?”

The older man corrected softly humming, “Our precious princess.”

The two strong men lifted you up slightly from your laying down. You tried weakly kicked at them again before feeling Bruce slap the inside of your thigh and point a stern finger at your face.

“Enough. Don’t make me throw you over my knee babygirl.”

You sniffled and started to hiccup behind the tape gag. The tiny jerks from your body every time you hiccupped made the men’s faces soften.

You were forced to sit up on your knees and lay forward against Bruce’s chest. When Clark tugged your hips backwards, your bum was angled to the sky while your stomach laid in Bruce’s lap, your legs at either side of his torso. This caused your chest to be nestled into Bruce's lap, your breasts pressed against the hard hot flesh of his cock. You were effectively sandwiched between them, and wiggled around, trying to not think about your step father’s cock touching your nipple and switching against your skin.

His large hands touched your shoulders and laid it on your head, patting your hair softly. Clark's hands were at your rear, rubbing and kneading the cheeks and parting them slightly as he felt the pert rump. A soft playful spank made you jump and whine. You started sobbing again, wiggling against the firm grip of your step-father as he tried to soothe you. One of Bruce's hands cupped his cock and rubbed his precum into your swollen nipples.

You tried to kick at Clark as you felt his hands on the waistband of your panties, and you turned your face away from your step-father's throbbing erection that Bruce was raising to rub along your wet salty cheek. You tried to use your hands as leverage.

How was you supposed to get out of this situation? It was clear what they wanted to do and also clear that they would not be deterred. The combined forces of two fully-grown men, strong super humans at that, against that of a young woman, was quite overwhelming. They were not letting your go, and that was that. Bruce chuckled as Clark slid his step-daughter's panties down, exposing your pert ass. Clarks mouth looked dry...his tongue flicked out.

It was rather a lovely sight for Clark, and he sighed contentedly as he reached down to stroke your lower lips. You moaned softly, you used your knees to get away and to launch yourself up Bruce’s body. You managed to bury your face against your step-father's chest and the crease of his armour as you felt Clarks hot breath along your little glistening slit.

Soon Clark's fingers rose up to pet your wet pussy. He caressed the throbbing mound gently, fingers slowly pulling apart your slick nether lips. With one arm, he hooked it under your stomach and lifted your hips, forcing you back up higher on your knees. This allowed him to see your womanhood more clearly.

“How's it look?” Bruce asked calmly, stroking your hair and back in an attempt to soothe you, forgetting his own throbbing arousal for the moment as he tried to quieten your sobs.

“Ohh, Bruce, our little girl is so perfect,” he moaned, grinning as he gently felt your inner flesh with a finger. Your inner flesh peeked out shyly from your outer lips, like the petals of a flower. Bruce could not help but chuckle at Clark’s response as he ran his fingers along your spine, feeling your twitch and hearing a soft shudder come from the tape gag. He pressed his lips to your brow and hummed.

“Yea darlin’,” he broke into his relaxed southern drawl, “You goin’ tell daddy about how you probably used his credit card to wax this pretty pussy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he looked down at your eyes, pleading up at him wetly.

“It’s a real sculpted love heart...now who on earth is this for huh? Only little sluts get groomed like this,” Clark sat up and leant of you and Bruce. His lips pressed to the corner of your tapped lips, “Are you a little slut baby girl.”

Muffled sobs emanated from the girl as you pressed your face against your step-father’s chest and Clark paused. The men exchanged smirks.

“Have you let some boy fuck this cute hole Baby girl?” Clark breathed, softly, a mocking tone to his voice. He touched your side with his free hand, the other remaining at your mound but being idle, the finger now pulled out. Bruce looked down and gently tilted his step-daughter's chin up to look into your eyes. You looked very lovely with tear-stained cheeks, you had never looked more beautiful his eyes. His hand slowly ran along your cheeks, wiping your tears as he looked down at your tenderly.

“Sweetheart...My lovely little girl. You’re not in trouble, tell us the truth...” he said, softly, caressing your face. Clark bit his lip gently and resumed stroking your rear and your thighs, soon going back to rubbing your hot folds. There was no denying the pleasure, and he felt wetness.

You whimpered softly as you shook your head no while you succumbed under the gentle assault of four hands, all caressing and touching you in the most intimate and gentle of ways.

It was strange, they were not supposed to be doing this and you had been trying to fight them off. And despite all the fear, despite all the rough man handling, despite their mean mockery and degrading humiliation...your groin felt alive....You felt good,

You glanced back over your shoulder at Clark. He met your eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to your forehead while his fingers were stroking and rubbing your intimate areas in a way that caused your to become wetter.

You hadn’t noticed how your crying was being replaced by snotty sniffling, and mewling moans.

Bruce smiled down at you when you turned your head back to him.

You felt his hand cup your bicep, pulling your bound hands up. You stretched your fingers. He held up his erection and pointed it to your palms

“Touch me baby,” he encouraged softly, “I trust you.”

You whimpered softly and shook your head, giving a sudden gasp with wide eyes as one of Clark’s fingers wiggled into you.

“Please...?” he purred lowly, smiling as Clark pressed second one inside and slowly scissor your insides. You let out a low shuddering moan as your step-father gently grasped your wrist, leading your hand to the swollen cock. Clark continued sliding his fingers in and out of you, before adding a third. Your walls clamped and tightened. You let out a soft hiss and were unable to stop yourself from pushing against Clark’s hand. The man then angled his fingers as he thrust them in slowly, causing them to press against a spongy place on your inner wall that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bruce smiled, his hand cupping over your bound hands so you were forced to grasp the base of his erection. You tried to remove your hand – but of course, to no avail. His thick rod was very warm and solid, you made a small noise as you felt it throb under your hand. You squirmed slightly under Clark’s attention, finding it difficult to breathe as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

Clark peppered a flood of gentle kisses along your soft cheeks as he thrust his fingers into you. Your step-father released a soft moan.

Your hand tightened and rubbed your step-fathers shaft weakily. Your shuddering breaths and fluttering eyes told Bruce everything he need to know about how well Clark was treating their special girl.

Your fingers slowly slid up and down the shaft several times, before you wrapped your fingers around it more firmly and did just as he guided, pumping it slowly and seeing the head seep with a bit more precum. His head tilted back a bit and he gave a low groan of pleasure. You looked up at him and saw how much he liked it, then whimpered, it was so strange how you could have the power all of a sudden. Curiosity, getting the best of you as you looked down at it. It was impressive-looking, and you were becoming slowly bemused to think that he wanted to put this in you.

You pumped more firmly, looking up at your step-father's face intently. He was no longer holding your down, so you pulled herself up just a bit, Clarks fingers followed you as you weakly tried balancing up and off Bruce’s chest. You continued your firm pumping of your step-father's engorged member. Now the taboo excitement of watching him moan and dig his nails into the bed sheets made you conclude that you were getting a thrill out of all this. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you just as much as there was something wrong with him.

At fourteen, who could deny that little sweet highschooler you had a big crush on your step dad before it developed into crushing on his journalist friend Clark Kent, the very man with three digits up your sweet silky hole.

It was time. You could definitely not ignore the pleasure you felt from Clark, who was working slowly and tenderly at your throbbing sex.

You whined, arching your hips, your toes curling and flexing, something Clark found cute. He chuckled to himself, trailing his free hand along the back of one of your thighs.

Bruce’s hand rose up and grabbed your wrists, he pulled them away to gently stop you. He knew he wanted to cum inside of you.

You looked up at him in surprise and your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, seeing him smiling kindly at you. Bruce pressed his lips against your forehead and chuckled.

“Are you trying to be a good girl now?” he asked touching the corner of the tape on your mouth.

You sniffled and nodded, moaning when Clark pulled his fingers out to trail down and rub into your pearlling clit.

He smiled, “Alright,” he whispered, “This is going to hurt-“ he said ripping off the tape before he finished his own sentence.

You yelped and hissed.

“Sorry baby girl,” he apologised.

Bruce then leant back against the pillows and watched you succumb to pleasure from Clarks speedy fingers. Your bound hands laid flat on Bruce’s chest, steading you from falling. Your fingers brushed and rubbed along his hairy chest.

Bruce cupped your waist and held you firm as he gazed at you showing your curious exploration. It was then he realised, you were touching some of his scars, covered by hair. Your eyes were growing softer...glassy...he couldn’t believe his luck...you looked the same as you did when you kissed him after your mothers death. If only he knew this was some sort of trance, a head space you were in all those years ago, he would’ve fucked you then.

Clark slid his fingers out of your and licked them clean. The pair, rolled you over onto your back.

You calmly glanced back at your step-father for a moment before returning your attention to the taller man, who was in a similar state of arousal as your step-father.

“My sweet little girl...” Bruce purred before kissing you deeply, his lips locking around yours passionately. Finally you found yourself leaning closer and meeting his same force. The wet sounds of your mouth and moans clouded any remaining sanity left in your mind. Your bound arms found their way around his neck, and he continued kissing you.

Clark waited patiently, knowing that he would have the soon enough, and watched as his friend lovingly cradled his step-daughter, continuing the hungry attentions. You were unable to resist kissing him back just as fiercely.

Soon your tongues came into the dance, with Bruce quickly gaining dominance, a sweet whine escaping you.

Clark smiled, and began to rub his shaft slightly. Bruce pulled away and pushed your bound hands off his neck. He shuffled your face to the side, pushing you to Clarks arms.

With bold confidence, you pushed up onto your knees and laid your loud hands behind his neck, pressing your lips to his. He playfully growled as your tongues fought, you lost and he hummed happily, eagerly exploring your sweet little mouth, his arms tightening around your body.

After a few more long moments of the passionate kiss, he broke it before licking up the strand of saliva that bridged your panting tongues. He grinned at you. You smiled and stared at him for a moment before looking down shyly. He saw this demure action and smirked.

“What’s wrong princess, still scared?” he asked softly, nuzzling your cheek. You continued looking down shyly. You had thought of asking Bruce who was watching you both, what your mother would have thought of what he was doing to his step-daughter, but you had no doubt that he had already thought of that.

Bruce cupped your waist and lowered his lips to your shoulders. His erection pushed against the swell of your ass.

Carefully you were pushed back onto the mattress. Bruce came up to put your head in his lap, languidly stroking your hair and cheeks as Clark rubbed your thighs. The man you had admired for so long spread them, eyeing your shuddering sex hungrily. Your body froze up, stiffening as it sunk in what was truly coming you squirmed around, pressing your knees together. You looked up at Clark pleadingly.

He sighed, disappointed. He leant behind him, reaching for the duct tape....was he going to duct tape your legs spread wide.

You panicked, “Are you doing this because I did not accept your marriage offer?”

“No.” he paused and didn’t grab the tape at all. He leant down and softly, kissed your lips chastely. Bruce leant down sand cupped the back of your knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide.

You shivered.

Clark touched your cunt gently and spread you open again. His face pushed forward, leaning in and licked from the bottom to the top of your slit. You had a sharp gasping intake as you felt the gentle licking there and you pushed his head away gently. Clark leaned back in and continued to lick you, lapping at the sweet wet with his thick tongue, resisting as you pushed at his head – although your pushes were fairly weak.

“You’re not being punished,” Bruce repeatedly assured you as if he read your mind, stroking your cheeks. Clark continued to lap at you.

“We just both think this would be a bit of....encouragement for you to stay baby,” Bruce purred, tweaking one of your nipples playfully.

You grizzled, “To st-stay?” your hips jerked a little as Clark sucked harder on your clit, your legs still held wide open by Bruce’s strong hands.

“Honey,” Clark murmured into your cunt, staring up at you with eyes that were mixed with lust, adoration and worship, “You don’t need to go to college when you have me and your daddy to heel you happy.”

Your voice caught in your throat, you couldn’t believe it...this was why? To keep you away from going to school? You bit your bottom lip. You would’ve been devastatingly hurt but with his tongue slipping inside and licking deep into your whole, you tossed your head backwards onto Bruce’s shoulder, crying out as a orgasm waved through your body.

“Clark, you can take her first,” Bruce softly granted.

“We can look at that sweet asshole another day and then,” your step father licked the shell of your ears whispering, “You’ll be allowed to fuck two big cocks at once down there.”

Clark got on his knees between your legs and Bruce steadied you, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them reassuringly before he let go. His large hands massaged your breasts, and reached down to rub your clit slowky as you felt Clark position himself, gently rubbing your slit with his tip. It had opened up to him through all of the loving attention, and was glistening with wetness.

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t… we shouldn’t…” you whispered, “Y-youre not wearing a condom.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around your wrists and lifted them pulling them backward to hook on his own neck. Your chest was so pushed up.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t need a condom,” Clark moaned, caressing your cheeks before his hands travelled down to your sides. He smiled kindly at you, and you found herself smiling back faintly, looking into his ice-blue eyes. You shivered as he slowly lowered himself, and the head of his cock gently nudged at your slit. You tensed a little, but felt your step-father massage your clit.

You gasped and arched a little when Clark penetrated you, and your step-father continued stroking you in a languid yet firm manner, his touches did much to soothe the passage and help you relax. You looked up at your Bruce for a moment, then back at Clark. Bruce tenderly caressed your cheeks and arms, while Clark's hands stroked along your sides. He was moving slowly, letting your get used to his girth, for he was almost as thick as his best friend. The wetness made it possible for him to move quite smoothly within you, and it was also so inviting.

It was tight and yes it was uncomfortable but with the support of Bruce’s hand, in no time, he was sheathed fully, and you stared up at him quietly feeling his balls pressed into your soft ass. He was heavy inside you, an unexpected pressure. The tip poked the sponge of your womb.

There was a few frightful seconds where all of you were silent save for your soft breathing. Bruce glanced at the tape, prepared to hear your screaming again...but it didnt come. And then Clark smiled lovingly down at you, comforting you at that moment, before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

“How do you feel?” he asked. You shyly huffed even more, but kept your eyes on him. You couldn’t decide whether to smile or grimace.

“I don't know. I... feel very full...” you replied softly, feeling Bruce’s fingers brush along your forehead.

Clark lifted your ankles up onto his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The best part is yet to come, my sweet angel,” Bruce promised. Clark smiled, and began to gyrate his hips, sliding his shaft in and out of your tight cunt in a languid manner. The reaction was immediate. His cock dragged along your sensitive walls, and Bruce smiled as he watched his sweet little step-daughter squirm around in pleasure. Soon enough, he himself would be doing that to you.

Clark released a deep groan, clearly in bliss as he thrust into you. His speed was tempered and gentle, languorous, making sure that the length of his dick dragged along your gspot with each thrust to create that glorious friction. He wanted your first time to be something deep and tender. And it was working. You hissed and flexed your back into Bruce feeling Clarks entire cock within you as you clenched hard. It had hurt a little at first, but there was no denying the pleasure to be had, and the gentle caresses were doing much to heighten your experience.

“Sh-shit shit shit, oh my god, Clark! Clark I’m-”

Clarks gentle lovemaking pushed you towards your glorious shouting orgasm, and you cried out when you hit it, arching up against him, clenching around him almost painfully. You had ever felt anything so wonderful in your whole life! Bruce smiled as he saw this, and leaned down to place kisses along his mewling step-daughter’s face, massaging your breasts as he did so.

“Isn’t it wonderful, babygirl? Doesn’t it feel so good?” Bruce asked warmly. All you could do was nod. Clark shot you a charming smile, thrusting more firmly now, and he whispered your name when he finally came. Your clenching drew it out, and multiple shots of his seed squirted deep inside of you, filling your up.

Clark placed firm kisses along your face, remaining within your hot pussy for a few more moments. You turned your face towards him, nuzzling him back, as your lips peppered his cheeks, Clark started grinning happily. A few moments passed, some tender caresses, before Bruce chuckled and shifted. Clark looked up at him and smiled, sliding out of you a little too quickly. You whimpered pitifully at the stinging sensation of being emptied.

Clark laid beside you on his side as Bruce moved down the bed to inspect the mess his friend had created. Clark kept his eyes on you, he shot you another reassuring smile before propping your head up with his arm. He laid there relaxed and enjoying the waving endorphins made from his orgasm, still reeling from the pleasure that your sweet noises and tight pussy had given him.

Bruce gently rolled you onto your belly. Your cheek still pressed into the pillow made of Clarks bicep.

“On your knees, baby, stick that ass up for Daddy…” Bruce whispered. You huffed and wiggled your hips up, propping you up on your knees. It was a lovely sight, and he rubbed your behind, kneading the cheeks lovingly as he glanced at your swollen and glistening sex.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, patting your back softly.

You moaned softly, knowing what your step-father was about to do. At this point, you had given up on fighting off the two men, especially because it felt so good. You rested your head against Clark and sighed, staring at his eyes that gazed you lovingly. With is other hand, Clark stroked your face and hair softly as you awaited for your step-father to take you, your heart thundered with anticipation.

Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious vision before him. Your sweet pussy glistened, dripping and dribbling out the creamy white Clark had squirted deep inside. Your outer lips were swollen from the recent coupling you had. Your rear end glowed under the light of the bedroom lamp, looking so plump and inviting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess. How Clark and I resisted you for this long, god only knows,” Bruce chuckled and rubbed your bum.

You gave out a soft but contented sigh before he was pressing the head of his needy pole against his your slit, rubbing it up and down the opening a few times. You moaned softly and squirmed a little, but made no real attempt to flee.

Bruce grabbed your hips and gave a strong thrust, his cock sliding inside of you to the base with little effort despite your tightness. You whimpered out softly, in slight pain but more in surprise, and looked over your shoulder at your Step-father again.

Clark wolfishly grinned at you, as Bruce’s hips immediately thrusting back and forth. He pounded into you, hard and fast, your body quivering under him.

Clark’s lovemaking had been languorous and gentle, more than suitable for your first time. But Bruce’s way of taking you was savage and primal. Despite it...you found yourself enjoying this as well. It was rough and deeply bruising. You would be able to feel it tomorrow.

Bruce was not hurting you, it was not unbearable agony as he slammed his hips fiercely. Clark watched with half-lidded eyes, listening to your whines and touching your face every now and then as if to reassure you.

Bruce punched his cock into you with the ferocity of an animal in heat. You were so wonderfully tight and hot that it was impossible to just hold back.

“F-Fuck, Daddy!!!”

The way you responded to him, arching towards him and making small sounds of pleasure and mewls of pain only spurred him on even more. His heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs, and you strangled around him with your walls. He gave out a low growl as he cummed, creaming deep inside.

You whimpered out another heightened, ‘Daddy!’ as your body quivered, your teeth chattering just slightly.

You bit your lip almost hard enough to cause it to bleed as you hit another orgasm, your eyes rolled back and clenching around him hard, trapping his cock inside with your tightness.

You looked at your step-father over your shoulder as he continued thrusting in you, his cock remained erect for a few moments before slowly becoming flaccid. You looked over at Clark then back at Bruce, whimpering out 'Daddy' again as you felt cum dribble down your opening. He stayed within your cunt for a while, panting as he relaxed his muscles. Smirking, he pulled out of your tightness and stroked your rump.

“Good girl baby...”

You remained on your knees for several more moments, cum still dribbling out a little as he traced his fingers along the firm curve of your rear end. What you had been through was unbelievable. You had just been dominated and fucked by the two men you cared most about in the world...one of them was your step-father. It seemed almost too impossible to believe, like it all had to been some sick dream- any moment you would wake up to find yourself alone, dressed, inside your own bed....But did you want this to be a dream?

The more you thought, the less sick it seemed to be...morally it was wrong...but at the end of the day, you weren’t related and Bruce was sure to take care of you just like he always had along with your own mother. Your mother might not have approved if she was alive...but...there was nothing she could do now.

And Clark was just as caring and understanding of your passions....So both clearly loved you, very much....

You felt Clark caress your cheek once more, and you looked to him as your hips fell down limp. He offered you a smile before leaning over to press his lips to your forehead.

“You did so well darlin’.”

You shyly smiled, feeling Bruce lay down behind you.

You felt Bruce slide something cold between your wrists and slice through the pink tape.

Your eyes fluttered. You could hear Bruce put that sharp object most likely a knife in his bed side drawer.

He cupped your wrists and gently massaged them, kissing the raw area. He then scooped you up into his arms, holding you close, as if he wanted to rock you to sleep. You rolled onto your back and looked between them. They were two content lions gazing down at the sweet kitten in their bed. Both of them held pleased but loving expressions on their faces, and you smiled shyly a little and buried your nose in into the blue sweat soaked sheets. Under the gentle embrace and caresses, you closed your eyes.

You felt one of them, you didn’t know or care who, pull up a duvet, covering your quivering body. The men sighed happily at one another as you snuggled sweetly between them.

It was a fact to acknowledge with their cum growing dry on your thighs how they now would never let you go. They would take you in the morning, and whenever either of them pleased from then on. You were there’s...you belonged to them, and they would always do everything to prove their desire for you. You fell asleep in their embrace, you pressed your face into Clarks chest, while you pressed your backside into Bruce’s hips. snuggled up to both of them, while their affectionate caresses and whispers lulled you to sleep.

★★★

When morning arrived it was still pitch black thanks to the roll down tinted glass windows.

Bruce’s grey his eyes cracked awake slowly, to the sounds of your soft snoring. Your soft cheek was pressed against his chest after the night of shuffling you must’ve done in your sleep. ‘What a wonderfully sweet thing to wake up to,’ he thought, smiling as he traced his fingertips gently along your other cheek. He looked to his left at the big bulk of a man under the covers.

Clark was still sleeping, his arm was covering your hip. Your plump rear end was against his stomach, and Bruce smiled at you both.

Your sweet drooling face stirred slightly as your cheek was caressed, but you remained asleep. Being cushioned and cradled in the warmth of two big men had surprisingly helped you to sleep well, as you had been so comforted by the obvious affection they had shown you. If they didn’t care about you, they would have simply raped you bloody and never paid mind to your pleasure they never would’ve focused on your feelings and overall care.

Clark loved you and wanted to be your husband, he had been serious when he asked for your hand in marriage. It was in the plan but Bruce knew Clark wanted to ask ages ago...

And Bruce loved you too, he wanted your utmost happiness but he desired your overall safety and company. If you left for college he wouldn’t know when he’d see you again...if ever...considering you held no real “blood” obligation to him.

Clark and he were good friends, and sharing you had been a odd thought at first, but last night proved that it would work out well between the three of you. And it was very comfortable, and would continue to be comfortable – after all, both of them wanted your happiness, love and companionship.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up, baby girl, it’s daddy...” he whispered into your ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Your eyelids fluttered open and you whimpered softly, a bit disoriented at first as was common on waking up in a place so different to your bedroom but the disorientation faded as you rubbed your eyes and turned your head upwards a bit to look up at the eyes of your doting step-father smiling softly down at you.

“Good morning, Daddy...” you said softly, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and blinking a few times as you felt a hand caress along your hip, you didn’t know who it belonged to, but did that even matter?

“Good morning, sweet angel... Did you sleep alright?” he asked, caressing your hair. Clark stirred but did not wake. You shyly nodded. Last night was beyond taboo and though you were not entirely angry or disgusted, it would take a bit getting used to.

“I am glad...” Bruce replied before he chuckled softly and fondled your side. He looked over at Clark and smiled.

“...Will you marry him?” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. You did not see why not – Clark was a good man and you had no interest in anyone else.

Bruce nodded, smiling happily. He was ecstatic that you had accepted Clark’s hand, and now you would be truly a family inside Wayne’s manor.

“What about you, Daddy?” you asked softly as your step-father’s hand gently caressed your side, “....Don’t you want me anymore,” your eyes glanced away in embarrassment considering how pathetic you sounded asking....

“Mmm,” he pecked the tip of your nose, “Clark and I already discussed this...I would like to keep our closeness when you are wed... Clark and I have shared many passions in the past...towards each other and it does not bother him.”

Your eyes started to widen. You didn’t know your step-dad was just as sexually active with men.

“He really agrees to this? You two... have no problem with... sharing?” you whispered as you rolled over onto your back to gain a more accurate gaze upon Bruce.

“Not at all...” he chuckled, “We are too good a pair of friends to fight over something wonderful like this as spectacular as you.” He stated.

You smiled and looked down shyly. He looked over at Clark once more and smirked almost deviously.

He reached out and playfully thumbed your nipples.

“Baby girl, it looks like Clark is a heavy sleeper...how about you go and wake him up for me?” His tone was seductive, and low. You could see from the corner of your eyes the two hardening peaks growing out of the bed sheets.

Bruce pushed his side down and cupped himself, using his enclosed first like a sight hole.

“C’mon baby, go wake up your other daddy,” he groaned.

You gasped and flushed even more as you stated at your step-father for several moments before carefully crawling over to Clark again.

You placed a gentle kisses along his face, saving his lips for last. Your hand caressed along his smooth chest, slowly making its way down to his morning organ. His nipples were given attention, your fingers teasing over the pink nubs and making them taut. Your palm felt along the toned muscles of his abdomen, and stroked the coarse dark hair above his cock, teasing your fingers along the treasure trail. The thin hairs had started as a thin, tapering line several inches below his navel, and spread out gradually to the thatch over his cock.

Bruce watched calmly, not at all bothered by his friend’s nakedness. He did not stare at Clark either, he just watched with interest at what you, his step-daughter was doing. You had such a lovely soft hand. You slowly patted the neither hairs as you started sucking on Clark’s angry red tip.

You flattened your tongue and looked over, making full eye contact with Bruce While he jerked off languishingly. He smirked and winked at you.

“Suck his cock babygirl, suck Papa’s cock.”

Papa...Daddy...oh god...what were you getting yourself into.

You leant your face down, filling your cheeks with the tip of his pink cock tip. Your tongue raised around the skin and flicked under the folds. You tried not to think about the smell but the taste alone. It was bitter, salty and a little tangy.

“M-mmh...” Clark let out a soft noise of pleasure, face blissfully slack. His manhood stirred and began to rise a bit, the touches arousing him even when he slept.

“Clarkkkkk...” Bruce cooed in a soft purr, gently touching his shoulder while you lapped at his foreskin, and Bruce started growing aroused, wanting to stick himself inside of you as he had a grand view of your little cunt, dried with flakes of white on your skin.

At the mention of his name, the man stirred and opened his eyes, smiling a bit, raising a hand to lazily wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“A-ah...Good morning...” he said, blurrily looking down at what you were doing. You smiled sweetly and placed a gentle kiss on his tip as you brought him to full attention.

“Clark?” you asked softly.

“Yes sweetheart?...hngh...” he shuddered, shifting a bit, his cock rising further. Bruce shivered, running his fingertips along your rear.

“I will be your wife,” You whispered softly. He tilted his head, and a wide grin came to his face. Hooking one arm around your arm he tugged you up to him to abandon you morning blowjob. He sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he purred.

“Thank you sweet girl, I vow to always cherish you like last night and every encounter we’ve met.” His words made you giggle happily, as you had no real doubt of his respect for you.

He heard the fwapping sound of Bruce masturbating, watching you.

“Have you talked Bruce?” he added.

Your lashes fluttered.

“I accept him as well. I...I will stay home. College can wait or I can try online courses...You can both have me,” You whispered. Bruce ran a fingertip along your slit. You shivered and moaned, wiggling your rear end at Bruce as you kissed Clark again, your hand returned to slowly pumping his engorged organ.

Bruce smiled, he rubbed your slit gently and lazily, feeling the flesh quiver a bit and begin to slicken up. Clark moaned softly into your lips and his hand moved down, cupping one of your breasts and carefully kneading it, plucking at your nipples. You gave out a soft whine of pleasure and looked at Clark for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Daddy...” You pouted, “...stop teasing me.” You reached out to his cock with your other hand. In each palm you held two thick cocks at the same time and went about squeezing and licking them like a game....unwittingly teasing them both to release. The men both gradually sat up on their elbows. Before either of them could cum however, you let their cocks go and sat back, facing them with a childish smirk, biting your lip.

If they wanted to be depraved, you could be too...you wondered if they’d tie and gag you again. Would they pushed you around manhandle and humiliate you again?...a real sensational thrill soaked your bones at the thought. What a fantastic opportunity to test that theory...

You didn’t leave that room for probably three whole days except to use the master bathroom...

Alfred decided not to intervene.. after all it was Master Wayne he was paid by, not you.

[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

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[ro-is-struggling]

Breakfast In Bed || Clark Kent x Reader

Based on THIS and THIS requests

Summary: Being married to a superhero was bound to have some tough times, you knew that well when you accepted Clark's marriage proposal. However, the last few months were becoming too difficult for you as he was having trouble balancing his daily life and his responsibilities as Superman. Intentional or not, he was neglecting you and you were getting tired of waking up alone every morning. But just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Clark surprises you with breakfast in bed and a talk that reminds you why you love him so much.

Warnings: a little angst, but mostly fluff, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 1800

Notes: I don’t know why but I always have the need to write Clark like the most romantic and adorable man in the world, so enjoy! Consider this as my valentine gift to you

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You knew your relationship with Clark would be complicated from the moment you learned about his special abilities. You always knew he was far from ordinary, you just thought his greatness had more mundane roots —his kindness, his empathy, the way he cared about everyone and how he always surprised you by remembering even the smallest details, all the normal things that made you fall in love with him. You'd be lying if you said you weren't surprised to learn the truth, but it also explained a lot —the way he sometimes seemed to be able to be on two sides at the same time, his incredible strength and great sense of hearing. It made you worry about the kinds of dangers he faced every day as Superman, but it also made you love him even more. So you decided that you would stay by his side knowing full well that your relationship would be far from normal. 

Through it all, you managed to make things work. Clark was very good at keeping his identity secret to protect you. And you were great at pretending that his long absences didn't bother you, making him feel better when he was late for your anniversary dinner after a year of marriage. To be honest, it wasn't always that terrible. You did have plenty of moments of blissful intimacy, away from the outside world and the dangers it presented. And it was wonderful. You loved spending quality time with your husband, even if it was just sitting in silence working to meet some deadline for work. Just knowing he was there with you was enough to make you feel happy, loved.

The problem you had now was that he was spending less and less time at home. He came home late every night, exhausted after a long day at work —both as Clark at the Daily Planet and as Superman helping people in danger. And in the mornings you were lucky if you got to have breakfast together. He always tried to make time for you, to spend a romantic evening at a nice restaurant or curl up on the couch to watch a movie, but somehow work always got in the way. If it wasn't Perry calling him to cover an urgent story for the paper, it was a person in danger crying out for Superman. 

It was frustrating because you felt you couldn't say no. Clark would always ask your opinion before doing anything, looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes while assuring you that if you said no, he would stay where he was. But how could you say no when a child in danger cried for their hero or a tragic accident required his presence? There was no way your conscience would let you live with that decision.

You knew his work was important. Both inside and outside the newspaper, he helped people. People in vulnerable situations, people in danger, people who needed to be heard. It was truly noble of him and you admired him for his determination to make the world a better place. That was the biggest reason why you didn't say anything, but the truth was that you missed him.

You missed coming home from work and finding him waiting for you, asking you how your day had been the moment you walked through the front door. You missed going to sleep next to him at night after spending hours sharing work stories over dinner. You missed the warmth of his body wrapping around you in the cold mornings and hearing his voice raspy with sleep wishing you good morning when he still had his eyes closed. In the last few weeks you were lucky if he made it to dinner. Going to sleep alone and waking up alone in the mornings had become your routine. And you hated it.

That morning was no exception. When you opened your eyes you found the left side of the bed empty. Your arms clung tighter to Clark's pillow, inhaling his scent to make you feel less lonely. It was supposed to be his day off, but you wouldn't be surprised if Perry had called him last minute or some catastrophe had gotten him out of bed early. You had barely seen him last night. Clark had arrived late when you were already asleep and you only managed to mumble his name in the dark and hug him when he lay down next to you, and now he wasn't next to you when you woke up either. The day had barely begun and you already wanted it to end.

Letting out a long sigh, you decided it would be best to get up and do something to distract your mind. Clark wasn't there and it wasn't going to do your mental health any good to stay in bed crying all morning. So you dragged your feet lazily to the bathroom, going about your morning routine before leaving the room to prepare breakfast.

Only the moment you opened the door you were assaulted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You frowned in confusion, wondering if perhaps you had mistakenly left the coffee maker running all night. However, when you entered the kitchen you discovered that it was no mistake. Standing in front of the stove was Clark, flipping pancakes and cutting up some fruit while humming to himself. 

You couldn't help but smile as you watched him move. He still had his pajama pants on and his hair was a mess. You took advantage of the fact that his back was turned to you to admire him silently as a warm and fuzzy feeling spread through you. The sadness disappeared from your system as you watched him carefully stack the pancakes, taking his time to decorate them with little pieces of fruit just the way you liked. He looked adorable, bent over the counter as he arranged breakfast on a tray, ready to be taken to bed. You wanted to run over and hug him, but before you could move from the doorway Clark turned, finally sensing your presence.

"What are you doing there? You're supposed to be sleeping." he said and you could swear he sounded disappointed to see you there. "I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed."

You walked into the kitchen. Just a couple of steps and you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around his naked torso and resting your head on his chest as you hugged him. Clark reciprocated right away, planting a kiss on the top of your head as he breathed in the scent of your hair. 

"I'm sorry," you pouted, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. "We can go back to bed if you want."

Clark answered you with a kiss, his lips caressing yours gently. It was a quick kiss, but it still managed to take your breath away. 

"What's the occasion?" You asked as you broke away, stealing a strawberry from the pancakes and popping it into your mouth. It wasn't your anniversary or your birthday and it wasn't Valentine's Day, so you wondered what had prompted Clark to make such a gesture to you. 

"I wanted to apologize... I know I haven't been around much and I know it's not easy for you, even though you are too nice to tell me."

"Clark..." You wanted to intervene, but he silenced you by resting his index finger on your lips.

"I need you to know that you're important to me, more important than anything else." Clark slid his hand up to your cheek, his fingers caressing your skin gently. He gave you a warm smile, losing himself for a moment in the bright light of your eyes. "Do you remember what I told you the day I asked you to marry me? I said with these powers I could see the beauty of the universe, the flowers blooming on the other side of the planet or dying stars exploding in brilliant light thousands of miles away, and yet, the day I meet you I knew I had to be with you because for the first time in my life the only thing in the universe worth looking at was right there in front of me. That is still true. It will always be true, angel."

"Damn it, smallville!" You let out a giggle, feeling the tears building up in your eyes as you remembered that day —one of the happiest days of your life. You hated the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better, it made being mad at him really hard.

Clark smiled at you, his blue eyes shining with love in them as he gently wiped away a tear that had escaped and rolled down your cheek. "You're the most important thing in my life and I'm sorry I haven't been showing it these past months. I promise you I'll be better in the future. I'll try harder to make this work, to make us work."

"I know this is hard for you too, baby." You said, letting your hands fall from his shoulders to his chest. You knew Clark wasn't neglecting you on purpose. You knew it hurt him as much as it hurt you to be away or to miss a date you had been planning for a long time. Balancing his normal life and his superhero life had always been one of his biggest challenges. 

"I know you love me and I know you care about me, you don't have to doubt that. I knew things were going to be difficult sometimes the day I said yes. I understand how important being Superman is to you, it is who you are and I love you for that too. I just... miss you sometimes, but I'm sure we're going to find a way to work this out. We always do."

"I swear if I could love you more I would explode." Clark smiled at you before taking your face in his hands again and pressing his lips together. You couldn't help but smile into the kiss, feeling that familiar warmth fill you inside. It was the comforting warmth of love, of the happiness it gave you to be in Clark's arms after so much loneliness.

That was the Clark you missed so much. The loving husband who wrapped his arms around you and kissed you until his lips were tired. The one who showered you with compliments until you were flustered. The one who didn't hesitate to show you how much he loved you with sweet words or cute details. It had been so long since you had the chance to be alone like that, sharing such an intimate moment, that you almost forgot how good it felt when Clark kissed you or how safe you felt when he put his arms around you. It was a beautiful feeling that you could only describe as the touch of true love. You never wanted to forget it, you were willing to do anything not to lose it.

"I love you too." You murmured against Clark's lips, giving him a quick peck before pulling away from him. "Now, about that breakfast..."

Clark let out a chuckle. "Go back to bed, I'll be there in a second."

[librababe99]

Gravity of You

cw: MDNI, 18+, Clark Kent, Fem!Reader, Friends to lovers, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) word count: 3.1K summary: In the quiet heart of Metropolis, there's more to Clark Kent than meets the eye—especially when it comes to the love he shares with you.

A/N: I’ve got a soft spot when it comes to Clark and just wanted to drop my own little fic into the tumblrsphere🤭 plus I’m so excited for the new movie next year! I really looking forward to seeing David as Superman <3

(DC masterlist)

It had been a quiet evening in Metropolis, the kind that clung to the final moments of summer, thick with the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass and the distant hum of the city streets. The sky above shimmered with the last glow of twilight, fading into the velvet blue of early night. You had just finished work at the Daily Planet, shoulders heavy from the day's demands. But there was a gentle excitement bubbling under your skin because tonight, Clark was coming over.

He had been dropping hints all week about needing a quiet night together, just the two of you. And truthfully, after the nonstop churn of Metropolis, the idea of being alone with him was the only thing that had kept you going through the long, drawn-out workdays. The way his soft blue eyes would meet yours over the rim of his glasses, promising something far more intimate than words could convey—it was intoxicating.

As you stepped into your apartment, the warm glow of the setting sun bathed the living room in golden light. The soft cotton of your dress clung to your body as you walked toward the window, pulling it open to let the breeze in. The sound of traffic echoed faintly from below, but it was distant, barely there—just like the world would soon be when Clark was with you.

You turned on a few lamps, casting a dim, intimate glow throughout the space. A bottle of wine sat on the kitchen counter, breathing in the open air, and your favorite record was spinning softly on the turntable. Tonight was going to be special; you could feel it in the air.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door—firm, yet soft, as if the person on the other side was holding back from using too much force. Your heart skipped a beat as you crossed the room, smoothing your dress out before reaching for the handle. As soon as you opened it, there he was.

Clark stood in the doorway, his large frame filling the space like he belonged there. He was wearing one of his usual button-downs, but the top two buttons were undone, revealing just a hint of the smooth skin underneath. His hair, tousled from the breeze, was just begging to be touched. Those piercing blue eyes of his softened when they met yours, a slow, easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and rich.

"Hey yourself," you replied, stepping back to let him in.

As he moved past you, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. There was always something about Clark that made the room feel smaller, like his presence filled every corner, every inch of space. Maybe it was because you knew who he truly was, or maybe it was just the raw power that he seemed to hold back every time he touched you—either way, it sent a shiver down your spine.

He glanced around the room, taking in the soft lighting, the music, and the wine. "Looks like you were expecting me," he teased, his eyes flicking back to yours.

"I might've been," you said, closing the door behind him. "Did you want a drink?"

Clark shook his head slightly. "Not right now," he murmured, his voice deepening as his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips. "I had something else in mind."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation making your pulse race. You had spent enough time with Clark to know where this was headed, but tonight, there was a different kind of intensity in his eyes. Something that made your stomach flutter and your body heat up all at once.

Without another word, he stepped closer, his broad hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and the warmth of his skin against yours sent a delicious tremor through you. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again to find him staring at you with an almost reverent expression.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent. The kiss was slow, savoring—like he had all the time in the world to explore the taste of your mouth. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. His body was hard beneath your touch, a solid wall of muscle that made you feel safe and completely overwhelmed all at once.

Clark's hands moved down, sliding along your sides until they rested on your hips. He pulled you closer, pressing you firmly against him as the kiss deepened. His tongue teased yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat as the heat between you grew more intense.

You felt the edge of the couch pressing against the backs of your thighs, but before you could react, Clark was lifting you effortlessly, setting you down on the soft cushions. He stood over you for a moment, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you, breathless and wanting beneath him.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Why don't you show me?" you whispered back, your voice barely steady.

Clark's eyes flared with something primal, something that made your heart race even faster. He slowly dropped to his knees in front of you, his large hands sliding up your legs, pushing your dress higher as he went. The fabric bunched around your hips, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air. You could feel your skin prickling under his touch, your breath catching in your throat as he leaned in, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thigh.

Your head fell back against the couch, your fingers tangling in the fabric as you fought to keep some semblance of control. But Clark wasn’t making it easy. His lips, warm and teasing, worked their way higher, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

"Clark," you gasped, your hips shifting as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just enough for him to settle between them.

"I want to take my time with you." he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

And take his time he did.

Clark's lips traveled lower, brushing over the sensitive skin at the juncture of your thigh and hip. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, and you couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. He looked up at you then, his blue eyes dark with want, and the sight of him between your legs, looking up at you with such hunger, nearly undid you.

With deliberate slowness, his hands slid up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the thin waistband of your underwear. He pulled them down, the fabric sliding against your skin in a way that made your body hum with anticipation. The cool air brushed against your exposed skin, heightening the sensitivity of every nerve ending.

And then, Clark leaned in.

The first brush of his mouth against you was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You arched into him, a soft cry escaping your lips as he kissed you there, his tongue flicking out to taste you. He took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of you like he was committing the experience to memory.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you tugged him closer, needing more. Clark groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue worked its magic, teasing and tasting in a way that had you trembling beneath him.

Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, was designed to drive you higher, to push you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, tightening with every breath you took. Clark's name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as your hips moved against his mouth, chasing the release that was building inside you.

Clark responded to your need, his movements growing more insistent, more focused. He knew exactly what you needed, exactly how to push you over the edge, and he was relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure.

It didn’t take long before you were teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the tension built to an almost unbearable peak. Clark's name left your lips in a broken gasp, and then, with one final flick of his tongue, you shattered.

The pleasure washed over you in waves, your body arching off the couch as your orgasm consumed you. Your hands tightened in Clark's hair, holding him close as the sensation rolled through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He stayed with you the entire time, his mouth never leaving your body as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from you.

When you finally came down, your body limp and boneless against the couch, Clark pulled away, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you. The sight of him, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, was enough to send another shiver of want through you.

Without a word, Clark stood, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. You watched, still breathless, as he undid them slowly, one by one, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him—he was all muscle, hard and defined, with just the right amount of softness that made you want to touch every inch of him.

When his shirt finally hit the floor, you couldn't help but reach for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again. This kiss was different from the first—deeper, more intense, filled with the promise of what he was about to do to you.

His lips moved with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the desire coursing through him in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body. His muscles tensed under your fingers, the raw strength of him a constant reminder of just how powerful he was. And yet, there was always such care in the way he touched you, like you were something precious, something he couldn’t afford to break.

Clark’s hands slipped to the hem of your dress, his fingertips grazing your skin as he slowly began to lift it. You raised your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head, and the cool air hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. His eyes darkened as they swept over your body, drinking you in as though it was the first time he’d ever seen you like this.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

The compliment sent a flush of warmth through you, your heart racing as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as his fingers trailed down your sides, brushing over your breasts and waist, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. The intensity in his gaze made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, like nothing else mattered except the two of you in this moment.

You reached up, your hands tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. The kiss you shared was slow and sweet, but the undercurrent of passion was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface. The room around you seemed to blur, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the feel of his strong body against yours, the heat between you growing hotter by the second.

“Clark…” His name was a whisper on your lips as he pulled away, his eyes locking with yours, searching for permission. He didn’t need to ask; you could see the need mirrored in his gaze, feel it in every deliberate movement he made.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and husky, making your body ache for him in ways you hadn’t known were possible.

“I want you,” you breathed, your hands sliding down his chest, fingers brushing against the waistband of his pants. “I need you.”

Clark’s pupils dilated at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. In one swift movement, he had you back against the cushions, his body hovering over yours, and you could feel the strength in every inch of him as he held himself above you, not letting an ounce of his weight press down on you unless you wanted it.

Your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, desperate to feel more of him. He helped you, his hands moving quickly to rid himself of the remaining barrier between you. When his pants finally fell to the floor, he stood before you in nothing but his boxers, the fabric doing little to hide the evidence of his desire.

You reached out, your fingers sliding over the waistband of his boxers before gently pushing them down. He groaned as you touched him, his breath hitching as he kicked the last piece of clothing away. When he was finally bare before you, you couldn’t help but pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him—so perfect, so human, and yet so much more.

He knelt back down between your legs, his body hovering just above yours, the heat of him intoxicating as he pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was hot against your skin, and you could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles tensed as he held himself back, waiting for you to give him the signal to go further.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint, but you could see how badly he wanted to lose himself in you. It was the same way you wanted to lose yourself in him.

“Yes,” you whispered, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m sure.”

Clark’s control snapped then, but even in his need, there was a tenderness to the way he touched you, a gentleness that made your heart swell. He pressed his body against yours, his lips finding yours again as he aligned himself at your entrance. The first brush of him against you was enough to make you gasp, your body already so sensitive from his earlier touch.

Slowly, he pushed into you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size. You moaned softly as he filled you, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming in the best possible way. He stilled for a moment, letting you catch your breath, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, you saw nothing but pure, unadulterated love in his gaze.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

“You too,” you breathed, your hands running through his hair as you pulled him into another kiss.

Once he was sure you were ready, Clark began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours. The slow, steady rhythm he set sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to that edge. You clung to him, your bodies moving in sync, the world outside fading away as you became lost in each other.

The sounds of your combined moans and heavy breathing filled the room, a symphony of desire that made the heat between you burn hotter. Clark’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, as his pace quickened, his restraint unraveling with each passing second. Every movement, every touch, was driving you higher, the tension building within you like a coil ready to snap.

“Clark,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the tension in your belly tighten, threatening to break. “I’m close…”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice strained as his own pleasure built. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

With one final thrust, you shattered. The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your vision going white as the sensation overwhelmed you. Clark followed soon after, a deep groan escaping his lips as he found his own release, his body tensing above you before he collapsed against you, his chest heaving with the force of it.

For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside and the heavy breathing between the two of you. Clark stayed inside you for a moment longer, savoring the intimacy of the moment before finally pulling out and collapsing beside you on the couch, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest.

Neither of you spoke for a while, the comfortable silence filled only with the sound of your breaths slowly returning to normal. You nestled into his side, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of peace.

“You okay?” he finally asked, his voice a soft rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “More than okay,” you whispered, your hand resting over his heart. “That was… amazing.”

Clark let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I’m glad I could be of service,” he teased, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his voice.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look down at him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and there was a faint flush to his cheeks. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world, made your heart swell with love for him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Clark’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in that gentle, familiar way that always made your heart flutter. “Only because of you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

You leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, and in that moment, everything felt perfect. The world outside could wait—right now, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other under the soft glow of the moonlight streaming in through the window.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[oneofstarkskids]

big baby

pairings: clark kent x reader

genre: fluffy sickfic because i'm a disease ridden rodent

summary: clark doesn't get sick, but when you do he knows just how to take care of you.

It was just one of those days. The kind where the orifices in your face wont stop leaking and you could probably curl up for a nap just about anywhere.

You groaned as you grabbed for yet another tissue. Clark, who heard your ailments from the other side of the house (without using his enhanced hearing), was by your side within seconds.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" He asked with a bit of a smirk.

The glare you shot him could've burned a hole in his face if you were born with his special talents, "Do I look alright to you?"

Clark did his best to suppress his chuckle. It didn't work.

Of course, he couldn't help but be a gentleman. "Is there anything I can get for you? You want some soup?"

You grimaced at the thought of liquid food.

"What I want is to be better already," you whined.

Clark raised his eyebrows. He'd never really been sick, so he could only sympathize with your predicament. Luckily, he had experience caring for his parents whenever they felt under the weather.

He wrapped your blanket around you a bit tighter as he pulled you into his lap, "You're like a big baby."

You frowned and tried to wriggle away from him, but he held you close.

"That's not how I meant it!" He defended.

You rolled your eyes and gave up, being no match for his Kryptonian strength.

"I'm not a baby!" You said in an ironically quite childlike way.

Clark kissed the side of your head before whispering, "What can I do to make it better?"

You closed your eyes and felt your body relax against his. "Just stay right here."

[cowboybeepboop]

Kiss the chef 

 "Oh God...keep doing that..." 

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: Clark is your best friend, who you suspect of being Superman. 

a/n: Guys I’ve been like obsessed with writing but I have zero time 😔 it’s torture and I’m also running out of ideas for the names of each oneshot they’re getting crazy 😭 Also yes, I’m aware I shift perspectives a lot, thats a stylistic choice 👍

Clark hums softly as he moves around the kitchen area, his hands working diligently as he prepares dinner for the two of you. 

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes catching a sight of you lounging on the couch, completely engrossed in your phone, a smile forms on his lips as a gasp escapes yours.

"Almost done in here," he says, his voice laced with a hint of contentment. "You find anything interesting on there?"

He turns his attention back to the meal, stirring something in a pan on the stove while sneaking glances your way, curious to know what's capturing your focus.

“Actually, yes.” You reply, hopping up and joining him in the kitchen. “There’s new photos of Superman that were just released.” You gushed, he knows about your crush on the hero, yet doesn't know that you’re imagining him as Superman.

Clark quirks an eyebrow, a slight amused smile on his face as he pretends to be surprised at the news. 

"Really?" he says, feigning intrigue, not that he would need to fake it. "New photos, huh?"

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you join him in the kitchen, the mention of Superman stirring something within him.

You lean against the counter, your eyes locked on the screen. “Mm, it smells good.” you murmur, setting your phone down and looking at the food he’s prepared, your mouth nearly watering at the sight.

"Thanks." Clark replies, a proud smile spreading across his face as he watches you eye the dish with appreciation. He glances in the direction of the screen, seeing a glimpse of the photos of Superman before returning his focus to you.

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells." He teases, scooping up a spoonful of the food from the pan and offering it for you to taste.

You eagerly open your mouth, holding onto his wrist as you taste the flavor, you let out a satisfied noise. “It’s really good, like really good.”

Clark can't help but chuckle at the sound you make while tasting the food, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you hold onto his wrist. 

"I'm glad you like it." He says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I put a little extra love into it just for you."

He scoops up some more food and offers it again, watching your reaction intently.

You step closer, taking the spoon into your mouth again, enjoying the way he’s feeding you small bites. “I should hire you as my private chef.” You sigh, licking your lips as you look at the pot.

"Careful, I might take you up on that offer." Clark replies, his eyes following the movement of your tongue as it licks your lips. 

He sets the spoon down, then leans against the counter next to you, his arm casually resting next to yours. "Just imagine me cooking for you every night." He muses, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Sounds like heaven to me.” You grin at him, reaching for your phone as the screen lights up.

"Heaven, huh?" Clark muses, he glances at the lit-up screen, the photo of Superman once again catching his eye. He clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. "So, uh, what's so special about these new photos anyway?"

“You can see all of his muscles..” you murmur, eyes fixated on the photos. “I mean they’re such high quality, just look.” You show him the screen, your cheeks flushed a slight pink.

Clark swallows the words and the photos you show him causing a stirring within him. He struggles to keep his expression neutral as his eyes flick between the screen and you.

"Yeah, they're really uh, really high quality." He clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the image, specifically the muscles you mentioned. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

You nod, turning your phone off and slipping it into your back pocket. “I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to meet him..” you shiver at the thought.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, a mix of guilt and amusement playing within him. He can't help but wonder what your reaction would be if you knew the truth.

"Meet him, huh?" He remarks, his voice low and a touch hesitant. "What would you even do if you ever met him?"

“I can think of a couple things,” you reply suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows for further effect.

Clark blushes slightly at your suggestive reply, a mix of flustered surprise and amusement on his face. He glances away for a moment, trying to regain his composure. 

"A couple things, huh?" he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I doubt the Man of Steel has time for...whatever it is you're thinking."

“Every man has time for..” you grin, “What I’m thinking of.” Clark's blush deepens at your response, his heart skipping a beat. 

He scratches the back of his head, trying to remain cool and collected, though he can't entirely hide the effect your words have on him.

"Uh, yeah, well," he stammers, a bit of nervous energy in his voice. "I'm sure the Man of Steel has much bigger priorities than...meeting fans and fulfilling...fantasies."

“Maybe.. Or maybe he has all the time for his eager fangirls.” You pull your hair into a ponytail, slyly exposing your nape to him as you notice how flustered he's becoming.

A wave of heat washes over Clark as you expose your nape to him, and he struggles to keep his composure. His eyes linger on the exposed skin for a moment, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

"Eager fangirls, huh?" he teases, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. "You certainly seem eager enough."

You giggle, watching as he turns off the stove. “I do, don’t I?”

Clark tries to ignore the way your giggle sends a shiver down his spine, turning his attention back to the stove instead. He swallows hard, desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering.

"You certainly do," he replies, his voice slightly strained. "And I have a feeling you're pretty relentless too."

“You know it.” Your grin grows as he plates the food, grabbing both in his hands as he leads you back to the living room. Clark balances the plates as he moves, he places them on the coffee table, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the way your grin makes his heart race.

"Should we watch something? A movie perhaps?” he clears his throat as he changes the topic.

“Mm.. yeah, you pick what we watch.” You settle on the floor in front of the couch, your back pressing against his knee.

Clark can't help but savor the feeling of your back against his knee, a mix of contentment and desire swirling within him. He grabs the remote, flipping through possible options but not really paying attention, his mind too preoccupied with the proximity of you and your intoxicating scent.

"How about, uh..." He struggles to think of a suitable movie as he glances down at you, his heart rate increasing. "How about that one?" he points to a movie at random.

“Sounds good.” You agree, focused on the food in front of you.

Clark tries to focus on the movie as it plays, but his attention is constantly drawn to you, the way you sit, the way you eat, the way your scent fills the air. Every little detail seems to distract him.

As the movie progresses, he finds himself inching closer to you, his knee pressing more firmly against your back. He tries to act nonchalant, hoping you don't notice his increasing closeness.

As you finish your food, you lean back against his leg further, playing on your phone. “You know, I’ve been thinking..”

Clark stiffens slightly as you lean back further against his leg, the feeling sending a thrill through him. He tries to remain nonchalant as he responds.

"Thinking? About what?" He glances down at you, his eyes flicking to your phone before meeting the back of your head again.

“You’re a reporter.” You begin, turning to look at him. “If you ever met Superman, would you tell him about me? Put in a good word..” you’re hoping that prompting him might reveal his secret.

A pang of guilt hits Clark at your question, but he forces a smile, trying to maintain composure. He knows the truth, that he *is* Superman, but hearing you talk about him like that, asking him to put in a good word...it's both endearing and painful. 

"I...uh, yeah, sure." he says, his voice a bit strained. "If I ever met him...I'd definitely mention you."

“You’re such a good friend.” You smile, turning your attention back toward the tv though your mind is obscured with disappointment.

As you turn your focus back to the TV, Clark lets out a shaky exhale, the words "good friend" stinging a little more than he expected. He remains silent for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He glances down at you, the mixture of guilt and affection swirling inside him. He can't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out the truth.

You reach for your wine glass, taking a small drink of the crimson liquid. Clark watches as you take a sip, the way your lips touch the glass making his heart skip a beat. He clenches his fists, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your hair, anything.

"You, uh, like the wine?" he asks, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’s actually really good, I usually hate wine.” You reply, “Where did you get it?”

Clark watches you take another sip, a hint of surprise on his face at your admission. He glances over at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Oh, it's from a small vineyard in Italy.” he answers, trying to keep his voice casual. "A friend gave it to me, said it was a special blend. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, actually.”

His eyes linger on you once more, the sight of you drinking the wine stirring something within him.

“Then why did you waste it?” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to look at him, confusion painted on your face.

Clark’s heart flutters slightly at your question, a mix of surprise and affection coursing through him. He tries to maintain his composure as he speaks.

“W-waste it?” he repeats, his voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t think sharing it with a...a friend is a waste.” His eyes meet yours, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he wonders if you can see through his facade.

“But it’s not particularly a *special* occasion, is it?” You cock your head to the side, shifting your body to face him.

Clark swallows, feeling your gaze on him as you turn to face him fully. He can see the curiosity in your eyes, the subtle hint in your question.

“I...I suppose not.” he admits, his voice soft. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He studies your face, his heart racing as he wonders if you suspect something.

You narrow your eyes at him, scanning his features. “Clark..”

Clark feels a hint of alarm as you narrow your eyes, your gaze intense as you seem to be studying him. He can sense your suspicion, and it makes his heart race even faster.

“Y-yes?” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can’t quite hide the nervousness that’s beginning to show.

“You look..” you lean closer, eyes glued to his every movement. “You really do look a lot like him.” biting down on your lip as you rest your hands on his knees. 

Clark’s heart stutters at your words, his breath catching in his throat. He tries desperately to maintain eye contact, but he can feel his resolve slipping away under your intense gaze.

“Like who?” he stutters, knowing full well you’re talking about Superman.

“You know who,” you roll your eyes at his response, leaning closer to peel his glasses off his face, your fingers brush over his cheekbones. Warmth pools in your stomach as you consider the consequences of pushing him any further. 

Clark's eyes widen as you reach for his glasses, he swallows hard, feeling a mix of panic and anticipation. He knows he should stop you, but he can't bring himself to move as you draw closer.

You fold them up and set them on the coffee table behind you. “You’re really handsome.” You murmur under your breath as you gaze up at him from your position on the floor, hands itching to touch his skin once again.

Clark's breath hitches at your compliment, his heart fluttering as he takes in your words and your proximity. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as you look up at him, the mix of nervousness and desire swirling within him like a tempest.

He can't help but respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "You..you think so?" He reaches out, catching a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it around his forefinger. 

“Of course.” You smile, leaning your elbows on his knees. “Clark, we don’t have any secrets between us do we?” your breath seems to get caught in your throat, dropping hints isn’t working anymore, you’ll have to be more direct with him. 

Clark tries desperately to push down the panic that rises in his chest at your question. He knows he should say something, anything, but the words get stuck in his throat.

His gaze flicks around the room, trying to find anything other than your eyes to focus on, but it's no use. He can feel your expectation, the way you're searching for the truth. He glances down at you again, the sight of you leaning on his knees making his heart flutter,

"N-no," he stutters, his voice strained. "No secrets."

You can tell he’s not being truthful, your expression faltering. “You’re lying.”

Clark swallows hard, the wave of guilt that washes over him nearly overwhelming. He can see the disappointment in your face, the way your expression falters, and it guts him.

He can't keep lying to you, not like this. He looks away, unable to meet your gaze, his voice small.

"I...I am." he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it you’re hiding?” You murmur, eyes locked on his beautiful blue ones.

Clark can feel his facade collapsing with each passing second. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks back at you, your gaze intense and searching. He can almost feel the truth on the tip of his tongue, threatening to burst out.

“You can tell me anything.. Clark, we’re friends.” You move to sit next to him on the couch.

Clark takes a deep breath as you move closer, sitting next to him on the couch. The feeling of your proximity, the warmth of your body next to him, it's both a comfort and a source of anxiety.

He gazes at you, his eyes betraying the mixture of emotions raging inside him. He wants to tell you, to share this secret, but he's also terrified of how you'll react when you find out you’ve been crushing on him. You place your palm on his leg, offering some comfort.

Clark feels your hand on his leg, the touch sending a wave of warmth through him, calming his nerves slightly, but not enough to quiet his worries.

"I..." he begins, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't know how to say this, but..." He takes another deep breath, his voice soft, low, and filled with trepidation. "I'm Superman."

“I knew it!” You gasp, eyes widened as you straighten up next to him.

Clark's eyes widen at your exclamation, the suddenness and volume of your voice taking him aback. He hadn't expected such an immediate reaction, let alone you to believe him so readily. He watches as you straighten up next to him, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. 

"Y-you did?" he stutters, his heart still racing.

“I mean of course, I’ve had my suspicions. Every time I speak of Superman it makes you turn pink.” You tease him lightly.

Clark feels his cheeks flush with color at your statement, the truth of your words hitting him hard. He blushes even more red as a result, the heat in his face growing in intensity.

He glances at you, a mix of embarrassment and relief in his expression. "I, uh, I didn't think it was that obvious," he mutters, his voice sheepish.

“Only because I know you so well.” You grin proudly. “But, I have another question for you.”

Clark can't help but feel a pang of affection as you grin at him, your confidence and familiarity with him making his heart flutter. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ask me anything," he says, his voice slightly more relaxed now that the secret is out.

“Does the man of steel really not have time for one of his fans?” You bite down on your lip.

Clark's heart stutters at your words, the change in your tone sending a wave of desire through him. He can feel his own heart rate spike as you bite down on your lip, your eyes filled with a mixture of teasing and want.

He sucks in a breath, his voice slightly hoarse as he manages a response.

"The man of steel has plenty of time for his...biggest fan."

“Biggest fan hm?” You question, sliding onto his lap and straddling his hips.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as you slide onto his lap, your body settling on top of him. He swallows hard, his heart racing as he looks up at you, your face so close to his he can almost taste your breath.

He places his hands tentatively on your hips, his fingers gently gripping the fabric of your clothes as he responds, his voice thick with desire. "The biggest. And the most beautiful."

“Clark..” you lean down, nose brushing against his. “Can I kiss you?”

Clark can feel your breath on his skin as you lean down, your nose brushing against his. His heart hammers in his chest, the sound of your voice sending a wave of anticipation through him. He gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration. 

"Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Please...kiss me."

You cup his face, fingers dancing over his skin as you connect your lips softly.

Clark's eyes flutter shut as you cup his face, your fingers tracing gentle paths on his skin. The softness of your touch ignites a fire within him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's both gentle and passionate.

He lets out a soft moan, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The kiss quickly turns hungry, your lips part to let his tongue in. Your body is pressed flush against him, hands tangling in his hair as you tug on the roots gently.

Clark's tongue explores your mouth with a hunger that takes him by surprise. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer against him, his body reacting to every move you make.

He lets out a low moan as you tug on his hair, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through him. He responds by biting your lip gently, his hands slowly caressing the skin of your back.

You pull away for a breath, Clark's chest heaves as you pull away, his eyes opening slowly to take in the sight of you. Your lips, swollen and glistening from the kiss, make his heart stutter, the need to kiss you again almost overpowering.

He gazes at you in awe for a moment, his breathing ragged, before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his hands still holding you close.

“I think I have some idea,” You tease, glancing down at the tent growing in his slacks. “I can feel it, you know.”

Clark follows your gaze, his heart skipping a beat as he sees the effect your presence has on him. He swallows hard, his eyes darting back up to meet yours, a mixture of embarrassment and desire playing across his face.

He responds, his voice low, his fingers gently caressing your hip.

"That's...that's all your fault," he says, his words laced with a hint of accusation and appreciation.

“My fault?” Your hand begins to trail down his chest. “Then I guess I should take responsibility, take care of it.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck.

Clark's breath hitches as your hand trails down his chest, his heart rate quickening in anticipation. Your touch is fire on his skin, igniting every nerve.

He groans softly as you lean forward to kiss his neck, his head tilting to give you better access. Your words and the feeling of your lips on his skin send a wave of desire through him, his body reacting to your touch.

"Responsibility, huh?" he manages to reply, his voice strained. "I like the sound of that."

“I can finally do what I’ve been dreaming of doing to you..” you whisper into his ear, your hand finally making contact with his erection.

Clark's breath hitches at your words, the sound of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel the heat of your body as you lean in closer, your hand finally making contact with his hardness.

He lets out a low moan, his body responding to your touch with an intensity he's never felt before. "Oh fuck..." He looks at you with hooded eyes, his voice thick with need. 

You reach for his shirt, pulling it off of him. “Holy shit, Clark.” Your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you stare.

Clark feels a wave of heat as you pull his shirt off, the air cool against his skin. He watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, the look of desire in your eyes making his heart race.

He knows how strong he is, how powerful his body is. But hearing your reaction, seeing the effect he has on you, it's something else entirely.

"You like what you see?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

You lean forward, kissing his chest. “You have no idea.” You mutter, fingers trailing over each muscle as your other hand continues to massage his clothed hardness.

Clark's breath catches in his throat, his body reacting to your touch, your kisses on his chest sending waves of pleasure through him. He can't help but arch into your touch, his muscles responding to your caress.

He lets out a low moan, his voice strained as he speaks, "Oh God...keep doing that..." He's lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as your kisses move lower and lower down his stomach, each touch sending a wave of pleasure through him. He gasps as your tongue teases over his abs, his eyes watching your every move.

His hands grip the edge of the couch as you work on his belt, his desire for you growing with each second. He lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants, the feeling of your hands on him almost too much to bear.

Once his pants and boxers are removed, he's left naked in front of you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart. He gazes at you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He's completely under your spell, his entire being focused on you and only you. "Come here." He reaches for you, his voice soft and needy. 

You bring your lips to his once again, the kiss passionate and hungry. Clark responds to your passionate kiss with a fervor of his own, pulling you closer against his body, his hands roaming over your back, your hips, everywhere he can reach. He's lost in the kiss, in the feeling of your body against his.

He can't get enough of you, his need for you growing with every passing second. He moans softly into your mouth, his body reacting to your touch, his hard length pressed against your thigh.

You reach to grasp his erection, his thick cock barely fitting in your grasp. You begin to move your hand, slowly jerking him off as the kiss becomes more intense.

You pull away from his lips to catch your breath, your eyes hooded in desire. “You’re huge..”

Clark's breath catches at your words, the praise sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel your hand on him, stroking him slowly, the feeling overwhelming yet perfect.

“It’s perfect.. you’re perfect.” You slip off of his lap, settling between his muscular thighs.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, affection washing over him. He watches you move down between his thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you so close to his cock. He reaches down, gently running his fingers through your hair, his voice soft but filled with need.

"I could say the same about you," he says, his eyes meeting yours, his body alive with anticipation. "You're...you're incredible."

You lean in closer, wrapping your soft lips around the head of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as you taste the salty sweetness of his precum. The room is filled with the sounds of your gentle slurps and Clark's moans of pleasure. 

Your hand grips the base firmly, stroking in sync with your mouth as you take more and more of him in, inch by glorious inch. You feel him swell in your grip, the veins pulsing with his excitement. 

You moan around him, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your pace as your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head. 

You look up at him through hooded eyes, watching his reaction as you deepthroat him, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. The intimacy of the moment is intoxicating, both of you lost in the sensual dance of your mouth and his cock, the tension building as the pleasure crescendos.

With every bob of your head, Clark's moans become louder, his eyes never leaving yours. The connection between you is palpable, the intimacy of the moment amplifying every sensation. 

His cock grows in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild. You savor the feeling of his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, the power of his grip speaking to your desire. His eyes, filled with lust and admiration, bore into yours, creating a silent conversation of pleasure that needs no words. 

Your tongue laps at his shaft, tracing the veins that stand out against his skin, your mouth creating a warm, wet heaven around his length. Each stroke, each suck, each flick of your tongue is a declaration of your adoration, a silent promise to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and back again. 

The room feels like it's spinning around you, the air thick with passion as you both give into the carnality of the act. Your cheeks hollow with the effort of taking him so deep, but it's a challenge you eagerly accept, the thrill of his pleasure reflected in every whimper that passes your lips.

You continue to worship him with your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The way his hips buck slightly with each deep throat, the way his abs tighten as he holds back, it's all driving you crazy. The sound of his breath hitching and his fingers tightening in your hair sends a thrill through you, making your pussy throb with need. 

You moan around him, the vibrations echoing along his length, and he can't help but thrust a little deeper into your welcoming heat. The taste of him, the feel of him, it's all you can focus on as you give him the blowjob of his life, eager to show him just how much he means to you, to show him the depth of your desire. 

You feel the tension in his body building, the way his thighs tense around you, and you know he's close. The air in the room crackles with energy, the heat from both your bodies blending into an intoxicating cloud of lust. 

You don't stop, you can't stop, you want him to remember this moment, to feel the intensity of your passion every time he thinks of you. 

You continue to devour him with your mouth, your eyes locked onto his, which are filled with a mix of disbelief and pure bliss. The connection between you is electric, your every movement a silent testament to the desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. 

Each time your lips meet the base of his cock, you can feel his thighs tense against your cheeks, and the soft groan that escapes from his lips sends shivers down your spine. You're both drowning in the intensity of the moment, your hearts pounding in time with the rhythm of your mouth and his hips. 

You can feel him swelling even more, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to this peak sends a thrill through you. You suck harder, faster, each motion a silent plea for him to let go. And when he does, with a final, desperate thrust into your throat, the salty warmth of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow eagerly, relishing the proof of his pleasure. 

You pull back slowly, licking your lips, watching as he comes down from the high with a sigh of satisfaction. The air is thick with the scent of sex and love, and it's all you can do to not climb onto him and feel him deep inside you, to complete this perfect moment.

Clark pulls you to him, his lip moving to your neck as he gently slides his hand under your skirt. The fabric whispers against your skin as he reaches for the waistband of your panties, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. His fingertips graze over the soft fabric before he hooks it with his thumbs, pulling them down slowly. 

His eyes never leave yours, filled with love and a desperate need to feel all of you. As the last of your barriers fall away, his erection pressed against your bare thigh, hot and demanding. His hands caress your skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his kisses trailing down to your collarbone, each one a promise of the passion to come. 

The air is charged with anticipation, your hearts beating in sync as you both give in to the intensity of your desires. He lifts you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if he never wants to let you go. You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your wet entrance, begging for more, but he takes his time, kissing you deeply and savoring the moment. 

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in time with the rhythm of your kisses, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The room is a whirlwind of passion and love as you both succumb to the depth of your feelings, the promise of ultimate intimacy just a breath away.

Clark's hands hold your hips as he guides you down onto his cock, the thickness of him stretching you open as you moan with pleasure. He's gentle, so gentle, as he makes love to you, each thrust coming slow and steady, as if he's savoring every moment. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in a firm but tender rhythm that sends electric jolts through your body. 

You lean back, gripping onto the couch cushions as he fills you completely, the sensation of his warmth and size overwhelming your senses. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you growing stronger with each shared breath. Each stroke of his thumb sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and your moans become more desperate, your body begging for release. 

His own breathing becomes more ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you come apart in his arms. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the perfect harmony of love and passion.

Clark’s eyes bore into you as he carefully guides his cock inside you, his movements tender and deliberate. The way you straddle him, the way your pussy clenches around him, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. His thumb continues its delicate dance on your clit, his touch a masterpiece of passion. 

Your eyes are glazed with lust, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as he takes you higher and higher. Each stroke is a declaration of his love, a promise of the intensity to come. Your moans become louder, your body moving with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been written in the stars. 

His thumb presses harder, his hips moving faster, and you feel the first tremors of your orgasm beginning to build. The tension in the room is palpable, each touch a spark that ignites the bonfire of desire within you both. You lean into him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your body craving the closeness that only he can provide. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, a testament to the love you share. You're both lost in the moment, in the symphony of your bodies, and the crescendo is just within reach. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you get closer, your breathing shallow and erratic. 

And when the climax hits, it's like a supernova, explosive and all-consuming, leaving you both gasping for air. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm to your soul as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

[companionjones]

One Night/One Bed

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're staying with Henry during a convention. By the way, there's only one bed.

Warnings: Smut, Cursing

*******

"What? It's not funny?"

Henry's voice resulted in you immediately opening your eyes. You hadn't been asleep when you'd heard him. He was showing you a meme on his phone. You laughed.

"That's a pity laugh," he reprimanded jokingly.

"It is not!" you turned and lightly hit his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to sleep anyway." Henry turned off his phone and moved to put it on his nightstand.

You figured the two of you should sleep. You both had a big day tomorrow. Henry had invited you to a convention he was attending. You coming had been a last minute thing, and Henry's people had only gotten him one hotel room, so you and Henry were sharing a bed that night. That was fine with you two. You and Henry had been friends for over a decade. It wasn't too weird for two friends to do, given the situation, right?

The way you and Henry had settled down, his leg was between your two. Things were quiet in the room for a moment, until Henry broke the silence. "You can't feel it, right?"

"No, I can't," you responded without thinking. Then, it hit you, "Wait, what do you mean?"

Though it was too dark to see the blush that could've been on Henry's cheeks, his voice still sounded sheepish. "What do you think I mean?"

"Oh..." You weren't sure what to say. "Um..." You figured honesty was the best policy. You swallowed, "I wouldn't be opposed..."

Henry gave a deep chuckle. "What else wouldn't you be opposed to? A business meeting?"

"Funny--" You went to joke with him again, but in doing so, you moved closer to him. You felt something a little lower on his leg than you expected.

After things were quiet for a moment more, Henry presumably decided to break the ice. "Did you think I was lying?" When he didn't get a response, he started to pull away. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable--"

He was almost sitting up by the time you got a hold of the collar of his shirt. You pulled him back down to meet your lips.

Once Henry's mind caught up with your actions, he moaned into the kiss. Quickly, however, he pulled away. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked you.

"Yes," was all you got out before tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

Henry made quick work after that. He settled you underneath his large form, then moved on top of you. Henry helped you out of his shirt, then pulled off his own. He kissed you again as you slid your shorts and underwear down your legs.

As he shucked off his own lower clothing, Henry admitted to you, "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

"I betcha I've waited longer," you challenged with a smile.

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced.

You nodded, "Ever since I saw you in person in that Superman suit." You'd just missed knowing him during the filming of Man of Steel. You were talking about the filming of Batman v. Superman. That was two years after you had met him.

Henry one-upped you. "The Sanderson Dinner." That was the night he had met you.

You didn't know how else to respond other than to grab him by the neck and kiss him. You felt Henry's smile against your lips.

"Are you ready? Cause god knows I am," he declared once he parted from you.

Nodding, you almost begged, "Yes. God, yes. Please, just put it i--" You cut yourself off when your jaw went slack, and you grabbed onto Henry's biceps to anchor yourself. A small whimper escaped your lips.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful like this." Henry stroked the side of your head. He slowly pulled out of you, then slowly pushed back in.

"Oh, god," you sounded out, eyes screwed shut at the intensity.

Henry asked as his thrusts started to find a (still slow) rhythm, "How does it feel?"

"So good, Hen," you answered, eyes still closed.

He smiled, "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He leaned down, and started going to work on your neck.

It felt so good to have him all over you. You tangled your fingers in his hair and moaned out, "Oh, Henry."

In response, he quickly licked his thumb, then started on your clit. He sped his thrusts up just a little bit.

"Oh, Henry!" you moaned louder, then came.

Once you came down, you noticed you had some drool on the side of your face. No sooner did you notice it that Henry was wiping it away. Actually, it was more like he was smearing it down the side of your face. You didn't care. To you, what Henry did made the whole scene even hotter.

"Think you can give me one more?" Henry asked as he finished ravishing your lips.

Vigorously, you nodded your head.

Henry once again sped up his thrusts. By then he was hitting much deeper in you than before.

"Fuck! Don't stop!" you begged, grabbing a handful of Henry's hair at the back of his head. It only took a few more thrusts for you to cum again, and Henry was right behind you. He helped you ride out your orgasm as he filled you with cum.

After what had to have been at least a couple minutes, you opened your eyes to find Henry Cavill gazing at you with enough intensity to burn a hole through a cement wall. The only thing to do was to kiss him. So you did. You pulled him close to you by the back of his head.

At that point, you and Henry sufficiently lost yourselves in each other. One of your hands stayed on his cheek while the other felt up his chest and landed on his shoulder. Henry's arms circled around you and held you close.

"Henry...Henry." You held him back and got his his attention. "We can't do this again tonight. You have to be up at five a.m.," you finished with a light chuckle.

He shook his head. "Screw tomorrow. I want to stay here with you."

"Very cute." You rolled your eyes.

"Hey." Henry got your attention by trapping your chin between his thumb and index finger. "I'm serious. If you told me to stay here tomorrow and not go to the convention, I wouldn't move a muscle."

You had to shake your head clear. "Are you serious?"

"Very much so," he promised, "I'm serious about this whole thing, if you'll have me."

You were already nodding before Henry was done talking. You kissed him before rolling on top of Henry and smirking. "Ready for Round 2?"

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[moonpascaltoo]

CLARK KENT / SUPERMAN

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all clark kent stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some have summaries if provided <3

MASTERLIST • DC MASTERLIST • 04/04/24

@holylulusworld ✫ alone again -naturally even around your so-called friend you are alone.

@imyourbratzdoll ✫ lemon lavender cake and the smallville superman -it's hard being superman, and even an alien needs to relieve stress. ✫ you will never be her pt2 -you have been in love with clark kent since you knew the meaning of the word, but the only thing that sucks more than loving your best friend is it being one-sided.

@bradshawssugarbaby ✫ i can’t protect you ✫ picture perfect

@itsrubberbisquit ✫ handy man pt2 -Clark has been smitten with his accident-prone neighbor for quite some time. She tracks him down to make a familiar request with an unusual ending.

@ellana-ravenwood ✫ Happy (belated) 4th of July

[chixkencxrry]

Workout

Warnings: SEXUAL THEMES, EXPLICIT SEX, DIRTY TALK. Your consumption of media is on YOU. NOT PROOFED. MDNI.

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE.

Summary: Clark gets a little jealous when you mention working out with someone else. (Slight OOC Clark Kent x Fem! Reader)

***

You wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, hands on your knees as you tried to get your breathing regular. In front of you, your boyfriend looked on with an encouraging smile that only seemed to frustrate you. Clenching your fists, you bared your teeth at him in a cynical smile. 

“C’mon, Y/N, you’re doing pretty good.”

“Clark,” you groaned, standing upright. “I will fucking stab you.”

“Kinky.” he joked tossing a charming grin at you. You liked Clark like this. Not wearing the costume of Clark Kent of a meek reporter. He was the charming confident man you loved. Though right now he was an irritant more than someone you loved.

You eyed the apartment building, a few metres off and walked in that direction. Walking straight past Clark who chuckled at your stomps. You didn’t have to look back to know that he was following, albeit a few paces behind. 

“I think you did real good, baby.”

You scoffed. 

“You didn’t take a break once and your pace was great.” 

Eyeroll.

“You’re a natural. I’m so proud of my little girl.”

You stumbled, heart rate picking up. You were sure Clark was smirking behind you. 

“I mean that,” he jogged up to you, opening the front door of the building with a few quick buttons. “You took to it so very well. Maybe tomorrow we don’t need to go so hard.”

Stepping inside the air conditioned foyer you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks rising with the warmth of his voice. He was enjoying taunting you. You decided to be petty and mention the name of a trainor you’d met offhandedly the last time you’d started going to the gym.“Maybe tomorrow I just go to the gym and let Daniel train me.”

A crater the size of Clark’s left foot dented the floor by the staircase as the two of you turned to the stairwell. You smirked, sniggering as a flush of energy swelled within you and you did your own jog up the stairs.

“Very cute, Y/N. You’re going to pay for that.”

You chuckled, shaking your shoulders and looking back at him, at the bottom of the stairs staring up at you with a gaze that could only be called predatory. Maybe you’d pushed it a bit but Clark should’ve known better than starting you off with a four mile jog on your first day. Did he think everyone was an alien? “Oh, please. Maybe I should trust a licensed trainor. He’ll know better than to push me so hard. He’ll know to take his time with me. Pace me.”

A snarl echoed from below and you jumped ahead, into the corridor of your floor. A grin lit your face until a breeze blew by you, curls loosened from the bun upon your face. Clark grabbed your upperarms, flying with you to your door. Your back hit the wall and a laugh fell from your lips before he kissed you with an open mouth. 

Tongue slipping into your mouth, you groaned as he kissed you, your arms going around his slender waist. As his hands travelled up to your neck, large and warm, they cupped your chin and hand around your neck. You tasted the mint toothpaste and trembled under the sweet taste of his mouth. 

Clark pulled back, his lips slanting against your cheek, then jaw, and then upon your neck. Tasting your sweat and licking your skin like a limited edition tootsie roll. His teeth nipped, tongue licking the bruise before his lips suckled. Then repeated until it was the swell of your breasts in your deep v-neck. His hands travelled down, resting on your waist and squeezing. 

Through the musk of groping and kissing, you heard the clearing of a throat. You patted Clark and in an instant he stepped back and turned behind to see your older neighbour, Ms Isla. Blushing in shame your turned around and opened the door, Clark tumbling in behind you laughing. 

You slapped his chest. “That’s not funny, Clark! I’m the one that sees her when I’m leaving for work early, not you who clocks in at nine.”

Clark shrugged. “Sorry.”

“How didn’t we notice her? Gosh, thank God we’re both dressed.” You muttered, stripping off your sweaty gym clothes and putting them in the washing machine right away. “Give me your sweats.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You tried not to look at him as you accepted his folded clothing, tossing it with your own before setting it onto cycle. When it finally began to spin, you suddenly got very angry. 

“Wait a minute,” you narrowed your eyes at Clark’s naked backside taking a drink of water from your fridge. “You heard her coming up! You knew when…oh my god, Clark!”

“Consider it payback.” he joked. “I don’t like the jokes about that Damon guy.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes and heading to the bathroom. “Jerk!”

“I’m sorry, baby.” he crooned following behind you into the shower. You tucked your hair into a cap and turned the water to warm sliding the glass door shut. Over the continuous pour you could hear Clark. 

“Could you blame?” he pointed out in earnest. “You kissed me and I couldn’t think.”

“All I could think about is you pressed up to me. Your breasts on my chest, those hard nipples dragging along while I sucked your tongue.”

“If you knew how good you tasted, how soft your lips were, you wouldn’t be so harsh. You’d understand that you could make anyone human. Weak. I can’t think about anything else but that.”

You dropped your body wash, bending to pick it up you heard a groan on the other side of the frosted glass. Clark’s shadowy figure was broad and bent, one hand in front of himself. You slid the glass back and gasped at the pleasing sight before you. Propped against the kitchen sink, Clarke eyed you with laser focus, hand around the base of his turgid member, stroking it up and down with a firm fist. 

His eyes lit up, watching as you stood giving him an unobscured view of your wet body. You caught your lower lip with your teeth, listening to his soft whimpers. Eyes flickering between his face and member, you leaned against the cold tile and ran your fingers along your chest, plucking at your nipples. Clark licked his lips, blue eyes dark in the white light of the bathroom. 

Hitching up a leg onto the rim of the shower height, you let one breast fall as you delved between your thighs, slowly massaging your centre – widening your leg to give him a view. You shivered as he sped up, breathing unsteady as he approached his first climax. 

Dipping a finger in, you hissed, adding a second as Clark’s face pinched in anticipation. You’re mouth hung as his cum erupted, planting onto the white floor. On autopilot, you stepped out of the shower and went straight to him, hoisted into his arms as he slowly kissed you, walking with you on his hip. He sat you on the bathroom counter; thumb between your legs as he stroked your swollen clit, applying pleasure until you were squirming. Clark guided his cock into you, groaning as he bottomed out. He dragged you closer to him, your ass barely on the counter as he held you in position with one hand and the other paying attention to your clit.

“Oh, baby – oh, fuck, Clark,” you muttered out, rocking your hips, hands on his massive biceps. Your fingers dug into his impenetrable skin, as you chased your high.

Clark stretched you out, deep and thoughtful as he made sure with every thrust you felt all of him. From the base of his cock to the mushroom head, he dragged himself out until just the pink tip could be seen exiting your essence-leaking pussy and plunged back in until his pubes pressed to you. 

“You’re taking me so good, baby.” he complimented, salivating as he looked down at where you two were connected. 

“Thank you, baby. Oh, yes, yes.”

“Good girl. Such a good girl.”

You nodded, crying as he worked you, words failing you.  

“Take my big cock, you love when I fuck you like this, huh? You wanna feel that burn when I take my time with you, make you drip on my cock like this.”

He kissed you, biting your lip and sucking down your groans. Clark hummed as you whimpered, sliding his tongue into your mouth. One of your hands went to his shoulder, nails into the delves of his back.

The kiss parted with a string of spit, you threw your head back and hollered as you came, his thumb still pressing on your clit until your legs shook. Clark pulled out of you, a loud plop echoing in the bathroom. He turned you over so that your belly was on the counter and you could see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Your shower cap had fallen off and your curls curtained half of your face, leaving only one drunken squinted eye. Behind you, Clark was wide and grinning down at you with the feral qualities of a wild dog viewing a slab of steak. Your hands gripped the counters, yelping as Clark slapped both of your ass cheeks. 

“Fuck, Clark!” you hissed as he did it a second time, large hands groping the meaty cheeks. He bent his head down and kissed them, nibbling at them slightly before raising his head.

You felt his heavy member between them, sandwiched by your cheeks. He began to slowly drag his hips back and forth, stopping for a moment before you felt him drag it along your pussy. You jumped at the turgid feel against your clit, exciting building over sensitivity. 

“Ready to go again?” He asked, husky and filled with want.

You nodded furiously and Clark laughed. “Say it.”

“Yes. Please, get back inside me.”

He touted, dragging a little faster. “Don’t think anyone can work you out can they?”

“N-No.”

He released a cheek to smack it. “You stuttered.”

You were going fucking insane. “No! Fuck no, baby. You’re the only one.”

Unceremoniously, he entered you to the hilt and began to fuck your sopping core. Clark took one of your hands off the counter, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it.  With just one anchor on shaky legs, you gripped the other side and prayed you wouldn’t fall until you remembered that your boyfriend was Superman.

Thick, hard cock stormed in and out of your pussy. Your ass smacked against his hips as he fucked into you. “Who’s the only man you’ll let work you out?”

You barely muttered out a response. “You, baby. Fuck – Oh my God, Oh my God.”

“Say my name, baby. C’mon, whose cock is in you?”

You caught your visage in the mirror, teary as Clark glowered down at you with tantalizing sternness. “Clark! Clark, Clark, Clark!”

“You’re so smart,” he praised, leaning forward and kissing your back, then neck, teeth nibbling the skin as his hips kept their pace, your pussy was spread and filled, growing wetter and wetter at his touch. 

“My smart baby. Do you think you could ever prance in front of another man in workout clothes? Tiny shorts that can’t keep this fat ass in?” He smacked the aforementioned ass cheeks with one big palm, growling at your whimper.

You tried to tap him with the hand pinned to your back but Clark seemed blind to it. 

“Nobody baby.” You muttered, moving your ass to him, delirious with pleasure. You could feel your second orgasm coming and if Clark’s pace was any way to count, so was he.

Moving your hips to his own, the two of you followed the other, hungry and redolent, chasing a satisfying end. Clark released your arm, his hands finding purchase in the curve of your waist, then the sides of your swaying breasts.

His head dipped into the curve of your neck and shoulder. You released you hadn’t stopped moaning or whimpering once. “I’m so sorry for being so loud.”

“What?” he groaned, tightening on the softness of your full breasts. “Baby, never say that.”

You seemed to have sparked fresh energy within him, even when your peak came – loud, yelling his name, he kept on, hands massaging every available inch of your body. Gratitude fell from his lips every time you whimpered until you felt him grow stiff and warmth filled you, leaking down your thigh.

Clark rocked into you a bit more, pulling out and holding you close. The steam had fogged up the mirror but he wiped it off. You leaned against him, watching the satiated look on both of your faces, beneath that, a more tender thing. Affection and comfort in a shared moment of two people in love. 

“C’mon,” he kissed your cheek. “Let’s shower and get some food.”

You hummed, too fucked out to even respond. 

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