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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 9 hours ago

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Could I request for Clark? That the reader is expressionless. Also that the reader is calm, nurturing. But they only show their expressions when they are embarrassed, could it be spicy too?👀👀👀…

Why yes, I can😁 im so sorry this took so long, my mid year exams are actually kicking my ass😔

Heart on Your Sleeve

You're not really sure when it started- Maybe it was Thanksgiving with Martha, Jon, and Clark. His parents are both such lovely people, never thinking twice before helping out or offering a meal. And you are, too- Martha was absolutely overjoyed when Clark brought you over for your first family holiday. Clark was pretty sure his mother was going to cry out of pure joy when you offered to help cook and wash dishes.

"How's that grease comin' off for you, darling?" Martha's voice has always been sweet, like a bird chirping upon a window sill. If you didn't know the woman, you'd almost think that the honey-ish tone of her voice was mocking. But you did know your boyfriend's mother, and you absolutely adored her.

"It's alright, Ma." Your hands were busying themselves with the pans piled in the sink of hot, soapy water. The response was natural, coming without any thought or malice behind it.

Martha was silent for a short while, her eyes taking a moment to study the completely uninterested look on your face. Not that you knew you were making it, of course- it's just how you look when you're not going out of your way to think about your face while responding to someone. But coming from Smallville, where everybody always shared a smile even in the worst of times, it hurt a little.

When Martha slipped out of the kitchen, you just presumed it was to speak to Clark. About what, you honestly couldn't say. But as far as you were concerned, you just made some small talk with the mother of the man you plan to marry.

Later, after the dinner had been served and everyone was enjoying dessert in the living room, you noticed Clark had been unusually quiet beside you. He had his arm around your shoulders, but there was something subtle in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place. He seemed distracted, like he was looking at you but also through you.

“Clark?” You glanced over at him, noticing how his jaw was slightly clenched.

He blinked a few times before turning his head toward you. “Yeah, sorry, just… thinking.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot today.” You nudged him with your shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, but you were sure it wasn’t anything serious. Clark was usually the first person to brush things off, so this sudden shift felt odd. “What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Clark hesitated, then his eyes flicked to his parents in the next room. They were laughing and talking, clearly in their element. He sighed, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as if unsure how to begin.

“Earlier, with my mom,” Clark started, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… uh, she told me that you didn’t seem too happy to be here.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Clark bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but she thought you looked like you were upset. Like, I don’t know... that you didn’t want to be here?”

You felt a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Martha think you were ungrateful for her hospitality. “Clark,” you started, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“It’s not that I think you did anything wrong,” he said quickly, looking at you earnestly. “But, you know, my mom… she’s just so used to everyone smiling all the time around here. She probably took it the wrong way.” He smiled softly at you. “You know how she gets.”

You winced, hating the idea that your default expression might have hurt anyone, least of all Martha. You never meant to come off as cold or unappreciative, and it stung to think that she could have seen it that way.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I didn’t mean to make her feel like that. I really like her, and I love being here with all of you.”

Clark chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I know, I know you do. It’s just… well, you’re not the most expressive person, are you?”

You looked up at him, feeling your cheeks flush slightly. “I’m not trying to be. I’m just—this is just my face.”

Clark grinned. “I know. You don’t have to smile 24/7 to show you’re happy. It’s just, well… it doesn’t always come across like that.”

You sighed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I wish I could control it more. I don’t mean to come off as grumpy or upset.”

“I know,” he said gently, his tone soothing. “But maybe you could try to be a little more… expressive? For my mom, I mean. She just doesn’t always get it.”

You chuckled softly, imagining Martha’s over-analytical gaze as she scrutinized you. “Okay, I’ll try to work on it. Maybe I can throw in a smile or two for her next time.”

Clark laughed, his fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You don’t have to force it, but… yeah, a smile wouldn’t hurt every now and then. Besides, you’ve got the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but smile then, albeit a little sheepishly. “You really think so?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “I know so.” He pauses for a moment to give your temple a proper kiss, his large fingers moving to gently massage at your shoulder. "I know just how beautiful... all... Of you is," He whispers the last part into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Clark, cut it out," you chastise, giving his arm a playful smack as your cheeks burn red. Even as you voice the order, you both know you don't mean it. But you couldn't have your boyfriend being so playful with you right now- not with his parents sitting on their respective recliners merely a few feet away.

"Smiley, over here," Clark starts in a louder tone looking at his parents as one of his hands rubs at your back slightly, "isn't feeling too well. I think we're going to head up to bed for the night and see if she's feeling better in the morning." What. Utter. Bullshit.

It's not like Martha and Jon didn't notice, either- they were young and in love once, too. Either way, they'd be damned if they called you and their lovely son out for whatever may happen in his childhood bedroom. "I hope you start feeling better, darlin'," Despite knowing the lie Clark had just told her and her husband, Martha still mustered up the same empathetic look she's always given. In a way, it reminds Clark of the few times he got sick as a child.

It isn't long before Clark is practically carrying you up the stairs, giving his mother a small nod of acknowledgement as you both pass. It's funny, in a way, just how easily he could sweep you off your feet- literally. Before you knew it, the familiar 'click' of the lock on his door can be heard before he places you gently on the bed.

"Just how much of a reaction can I get out of you tonight, hm?" His deep, smooth voice vibrates against your lips slightly as he leans down for a kiss. The pressing of your lips is soft and intimate with his body hovering over yours. You could tell he wasn't laying his full weight on you. In fact, he'd probably suffocate you if he did. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to suffocate you.

You pretend to give a short, thoughtful look as you pull away from the kiss slightly, your hands coming up to rest on his broad shoulders. "Depends..." You whisper playfully against his lips, your breath brushing against him slightly in the close proximity, "how hard are you willing to try, Superman?"

In the darkness of his room, you almost could have sworn his eyes glowed red at the tease. There wasn't much time to ponder on it, however, as his lips come back down to connect themselves with your own again. Like last time, the kiss is slow and intimate, just like most of your shared kisses are. The soft presses of your lips goes on for what seems like forever, the two of you simply basking in the moment.

As always, your hands had started to wander. Trailing down from his shoulders and resting on his lower back. Clark nearly lets out a moan as your nails gently scratch at his lower back, lifting his shirt just enough for you to feel his bare, heated skin. "Take it off, baby..." Your begging is almost like music to his ears as you pull away slightly, cheeks flushed and breathing labored.

He can't help but let out a soft huff of a laugh at the request, however, muttering something along the lines of "Somebody's getting impatient." Clark doesn't hesitate to comply, though, as he grabs the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. Just like always, his torso is perfectly chisled from his collarbones all the way down to his V-line.

God, his V-line. You were practically salivating like a rabid dog as the article is thrown off the side of the bed and forgotten about. "And here I thought you were a goody two shoes, Smallville," your voice came as a tease in the dark room, both of your bodies just barely illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the windows as your hands reacher out to trail over his sculpted chest.

At that, Clark merely lets out a snicker. "That's a new nickname," he muses, leaning back down to nudge your shirt up your stomach with his nose. Light as a feather, his lips start to trail kisses up from your stomach, leading all the way up to your sternum. As he reaches the wire of your bra beneath your shirt, his hands mobe to gently lift the clothing over your head. "Not that I'm complaining, beautiful." He adds jokingly, his large, warm hands snaking their way under your back to unclasp your bra.

As your breasts are freed from their confinement, they move slightly in the pale moonlight. Now, it was Clark's turn to salivate at the sight of you shirtless. Every time he manages to get you out of your bra, it's almost as if he can't keep his mouth to himself. Immediately, his lips are latched around your nipple as his tongue flicks across the hardening bud. At the same time, his free hand works at gently massaging your other breast.

"Clark..." You mewl softly, the sound barely more than a hushed whisper of wind in the night. Your fingers are threaded through his hair, tugging softly at the black, curly locks.

At that, he lets out a quiet groan. Hair pulling has always been his biggest weakness in bed. As he pulls away from your now swollen and flushed nipple, he can't stop his hands from wandering beneath the waistband of your pants. As if on second nature, the tip of his middle fingers gently rubs at your needy clit. The motion is slow and languid, his touch bately there to satisfy your needs.

"Honey..." You let out a soft plead, the sound barely loud enough for even him to hear. But before you can beg for more pressure or a faster pace, a long, thick finger makes it's way into your weeping hole. "Oh, fuck-" the whine comes out without a warning, the bliss of his middle finger gently stretching your gummy walls coming with just a hint of pain.

"Shhh..." Clark soothes softly, his other hand leaving your breast and moving to gently cover your mouth. "As much as I love that sound, darlin', I bet Ma and Pa would rather not hear it." The tease comes without any sort of malice, but it's enough to have you clenching around him. Even with the slight pain that always comes with having sex with him, Clark always takes his time prepping you like the pillow princess you are.

As his finger speeds up slightly and a second one is added, you can no longer keep back a quiet string of moans and pleas. "So good..." The whine is like music to his ears, spurring him on to push gently on that spongey spot inside of you and making you arch your back off of the bed. "Oh fuck... Honey, please. Please, Clark." The dragging of his fingers along your tight walls was almost rhythmatic as they moved in and out.

Clark would be lying if he said he didn't smile every time he brought you close to an orgasm. It was still just so amazing that he was the one you trusted to be like this with. Not any other man or woman, not some over-used sex toy you used to have sitting in your nightstand. You used him, and only him. "I have you, beautiful..." he reassures gently, his fingers staying at just the right pace to have you seeing stars. Everything about sex with Clark was always so reassuring and calm, like the way the thumb belonging to his hand covering your mouth gently caresses at your cheek.

In all honesty, you think that might have been what did you in. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and push clenching around his thick digits. It was almost funny, the way he had your thighs shaking and quivering without even taking you out of your pants. "Fuck... fuck fuck fuck fuck..." your whines are obscene, even when covered by his large, calloused palm. Even now, when you're wailing because of his fingers, he's still so gentle and mindful with covering up the sounds.

"There we go, sweetness," he coos softly, pressing a barely-there kiss to the side of your abdomen as his fingers slow their pace, "Shh... Inside voice, darlin'. We don't want to get caught before we even have any real fun, do we?" He was being a tease, and he knew it. You almost let out a whimper as his fingers slowly exited your puffy folds, missing the feeling of him filling you up like nobody else can.

The sound was quickly caught in your throat, however, as he removes his hands from your quivering body to instead begin removing his belt. Getting his pants off was always exciting, especially when his fully-hard length was already making an outline through his jeans. God, his jeans... They outline his thighs and ass in just the perfect way to show off his muscles.

At the same time, you took this as an opportunity to remove your own bottoms. Hooking your thumbs into the waitband of your pants and lifting your hips slightly, you sensually push the fabric down while making eye contact with Clark. When you did finally glance down again, however, you certainly noticed the wet patch in the center of your panties from your previous orgasm.

Before you could unhook your ankles, however, Clark beats you to it. Your boyfriend has always been charming like that, never letting you lift a single finger for even the simplest of tasks. As he leans down to press a kiss to your shin, you notice that he reaches over to his nightstand to slip your soaking wet panties into the top drawer. "Gotta keep myself distracted in the Watchtower for that next mission somehow," he jokes softly, finally removing his own underwear.

As always, your mouth waters at the sheer girth of his cock. Something about him is just so pretty and handsome in a way impossible to describe. "Get back down here, Smallville," you almost seem like a petulant child as you reach up for him, making little grabby hands before they finally take their spots on his broad shoulders.

Clark complies without a second thought, holding himself up on his forearms to hover above you. With one hand, he reaches down to gently rub his hardened cock along your clit. Still a little sensitive while coming down from your high, you can't help but let out a soft shiver.

And he has the audacity to chuckle.

"Fourth reaction of the night, in case you were wondering," he mutters mere centimeters away from your lips, your breaths mingling in the close proximity. But before you could give a sassy quip back, his plush lips are pressed passionately against yout own. Ever the caring boyfriend, Clark has always resorted to kisses like this to distract you from the burning stretch of his cock into your tight little hole.

Even with his mouth against yours in an attempt to take focus off of any uncomfortable feeling, you still find yourself gasping into the kiss as his tip slowly nudges into you. The moan you make as he slowly slides himself into you inch by inch is boarderline phonographic, and there's no doubt Jon and Martha were able to hear it downstairs in the living room. But even so, Clark doesn't stop until he's finally bottomed out in you.

He immediately feels guilty, however, as he sees those tears forming in the corner of your eyes while pulling away from the kiss. "Shh..." Clark hushes softly, bringing one of his hands to gently wipe away any of that salty, fallen liquid before pressing his lips to your forehead. "You're okay, sweetheart. You can take it... You're doing so well, honey."

Although it takes a couple of minutes for you to fully adjust to his length and girth with mountains of praise and reassurance, you don't regret it for a moment. "'m ready..." You whisper as softly as you can, already feeling your cheeks heat up in utter embarrassment knowing that your future in laws might've heard you moan while getting laid by their son.

With a short nod, Clark rests his forehead against yours and slowly pulls his hips back, changing their angle ever so slightly before sliding back in. In this position, his cock head is able to kiss your cervix with little to no effort. He can't even stop his own breath from becoming labored with just how well your tight pussy accommodates to him. Something about his huge cock being the only one to make you whine like this just seems to get to him as his hips get into a slow, expiramental rhythm.

Even at such a slow, languid pace, Clark is already letting out soft grunts of his own. Each sound is almost lewd, despite their near-silent nature. You almost envy his super-hearung ability, in a way; how is it fair that he gets to hear your noises while you barely catch his? Taking matters into your own hands, you gently scratch at his back with your nails. You couldn't hurt him, even if you tried, but the thought of you leaving marks like that for everybody to see was something he loved to indulge in.

"Gonna leave some marks, beautiful?" his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hips beginning to pick up a bit more speed. At this rate, your eyes are nearly rolling back as it is, nevermind with Clark's teasing added into the mix. "God, the League won't be able to leave me alone once they catch sight of them. Is that what you want, sweetheart? For them to know just how good I make you feel?"

Between soft moans and mewls, you find it in yourself to nod frantically. "So good, Clark..." You find yourself whining as you pull him closer, moving to wrap your legs around his hips. As he shifts slightly to better accommodate your chosen position, the tip of his cock manages to perfectly kiss that gushy, spongy spot inside of you. "Oh, god... Just like that. Don't stop, honey. Please don't stop."

As your thighs quake around him, Clark can't help but pick up the pace just enough to have you arching for him. In all honesty, he swears his own eyes are almost rolling back as your pretty little pussy takes him so well. "That's it, beautiful..." the words are nothing more than a hot pant against your ear, his childhood bed sqeaking slightly as he rocks his hips into yours.

That tension building in your lower stomach was near it's snapping point, ready to release any stress and tension you may have had. "So close..." the whine is barely audible, made for his ears only. And something about only him being able to hear just how worked up he's gotten you really gets him going.

His middle finger is rubbing circles around your clit in an instant, putting just enough pressure to have your hole pulsating around him. "Yeah, darlin'?" he coos, unable to hold back the soft grunts and moans escaping his own mouth, "Go ahead, beautiful... I have you. Cum all over my cock, honey."

That was certainly your breaking point.

You tried to hold it back, you really did, but the loud moan that came with your orgasm came without warning. Your back was so pretty as it arched up for him, almost as if you wanted to feel all of his skin against yours at once. "Oh my god," the clenching of your twitching pussy around him was absolutely divine, and who were you to stop him from getting his fill?

Even as your eyes rolled back and you began to see stars, you could still hear his nearly incoherent babbling. "Might just have to fill this pretty pussy up with my babies..." you think your hear, but Clark's near-orgasm rambling has always been a little choppy. "Gonna have our own farm with kids... N' get married. Fuck, won't have to stay quiet because there won't be nobody around-" as he cuts himself off with a loud groan, hands grasping desperately at your shoulders, you knew it wouldn't be long until he came.

And he certainly filled you. "Shit..." the groan is barely coherent a his ropes of thick, warm cum shoots out of his overstimulated dick. In all honesty, neither of you had thought to use a condom. Not until it was far too late, at least. Oh well, it's like Martha would mind having a grandkid or two running around during the holidays next year.

You're sure her face would light up if you told her about getting pregnant with Clark's kids.

At least, it would if you could ever face her after the things both her and Jon have heard.