#small gas engines

[dsiddhant]

Chicago, Aug. 01, 2023 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) -- Small Gas Engines Market size is projected to grow from USD 3.3 billion in 2023 to USD 4.3 billion by 2028, at a CAGR of 5.4% according to a new report by MarketsandMarkets™.

[guard-en]

"...This fucking thing better not choke up on me again."

[onlyhappyvibes]

[vipinmishra]

Small Gas Engines Market Eyes Growth as Construction Activity Drives Demand

Global Small Gas Engines Market is expected to grow owing to growth of the construction activities surges the demand for outdoor power equipment throughout the forecast period.

According to TechSci Research report, “Small Gas Engines Market - Global Industry Size, Share, Trends, Opportunity, and Forecast 2018-2028”, the Global Small Gas Engines Market is expected to register robust growth during the forecast period. Factors such as the growing utilization of construction equipment fueled by gas generators, the decrease in natural gas prices, minimal environmental impact, and the improving flexibility and efficiency of gas-driven energy generation are anticipated to propel the demand for small gas engines in the forecast period.

The growing popularity of landscaping, gardening, and lawn care activities, particularly among homeowners, is fueling the need for outdoor power equipment. Small gas engines are utilized to power a range of equipment, including lawnmowers, leaf blowers, and chainsaws. Manufacturers have the opportunity to innovate and create more efficient and environmentally-friendly small gas engines to meet the demands of this expanding market segment.

Small gas engines can effectively supplement energy storage solutions by offering dependable backup power for renewable energy systems, including solar and wind installations. Manufacturers have the opportunity to collaborate with renewable energy companies to develop integrated power solutions.

Based on engine displacement, the 101-450cc segment is expected to dominate the market during the forecast period. This segment encompasses a wide range of engine capacities and finds applications in various equipment such as lawn mowers, generators, agricultural machinery, construction equipment, and recreational vehicles. The 101-450cc segment holds a significant share in the global small gas engines market and plays a pivotal role. It caters to diverse applications, making it a versatile range.

Browse over XX market data Figures spread through XX Pages and an in-depth TOC on the "Global Small Gas Engines Market" https://www.techsciresearch.com/report/global-small-gas-engines-market/1657.html

Lawn mowers, garden tractors, and other outdoor power equipment often utilize small gas engines within the 101-450cc range. The demand for well-maintained lawns and gardens, especially in residential settings, drives the adoption of these engines. The 101-450cc segment also includes portable generators, commonly used for backup power during outages. These engines provide a reliable source of electricity for residential and commercial users. Manufacturers in this segment are actively investing in research and development to develop engines that comply with increasingly stringent emissions regulations.

Ensuring compliance with emissions standards is crucial to maintain market competitiveness and address environmental concerns. Moreover, manufacturers can explore opportunities to customize engines within the 101-450cc range for specialized applications, such as high-performance small tractors or compact generators. Collaborating with original equipment manufacturers (OEMs) in various sectors, such as construction or agriculture, can expand market reach and provide access to established distribution channels.

Based on application, the Gardening segment is projected to dominate the market throughout the forecast period.

Gardening equipment powered by small gas engines encompasses a range of outdoor power tools, including lawnmowers, leaf blowers, string trimmers, and more. It serves a diverse customer base, including homeowners, landscaping professionals, and municipalities. The gardening market experiences seasonal fluctuations in demand, with peak sales occurring during the spring and summer months when lawn care and gardening activities are at their peak. Small gas engines are essential for various types of lawnmowers, such as push mowers, riding mowers, and zero-turn mowers, ensuring well-manicured lawns.

Gas-powered leaf blowers are popular for efficiently clearing leaves and debris from yards and driveways, offering portability and power preferred by homeowners and landscapers alike. Manufacturers in the gardening segment are increasingly focused on meeting emissions regulations by developing cleaner-burning engines, aligning with environmental concerns and government mandates for reduced emissions. Electric gardening equipment, including cordless electric lawnmowers and leaf blowers, poses competition to gas-powered tools, offering quieter operation and zero emissions. Manufacturers can explore the adoption of alternative fuels such as propane and natural gas in gardening equipment to provide cleaner-burning options.

Key market players in the Global Small Gas Engines Market are:-

Briggs & Stratton Corporation

Kohler Co.

Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, Ltd.

Honda Motor Co., Ltd

Fuji Heavy Industries

Kubota corporation

Generac Power Systems

Yamaha Motor Corp.

Kawasaki Heavy Industries

Kubota Corporation

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“The Small Gas Engines Market in North America is poised to be the dominant force in the industry. Small gas engines find applications in various sectors, such as marine, recreational vehicles, and construction equipment. Establishing partnerships with original equipment manufacturers (OEMs) in North America enables small gas engine manufacturers to broaden their market presence and integrate their engines into a diverse range of equipment.” said Mr. Karan Chechi, Research Director with TechSci Research, a research-based global management consulting firm.

“Small Gas Engines Market – Global Industry Size, Share, Trends, Opportunity, and Forecast Segmented By Engine Displacement (20-100cc, 101-450cc and 451-650cc), By Application (Gardening, Industrial, Construction and Others), By Equipment (Lawnmower, Chainsaw, Portable Generator, Pressure Washer and Others), By Region, By Competition Forecast & Opportunities, 2018-2028,” has evaluated the future growth potential of Global Small Gas Engines Marketand provides statistics & information on market size, structure, and future market growth. The report intends to provide cutting-edge market intelligence and help decision makers take sound investment decisions. Besides the report also identifies and analyzes the emerging trends along with essential drivers, challenges, and opportunities in Global Small Gas Engines Market.

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[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[vaiswr]

Small Gas Engines Market Size Worth USD 5.46 Billion in 2032

The global small gas engines market size was USD 3.21 Billion in 2022 and is expected to register a revenue CAGR of 5.5% during the forecast period, according to latest analysis by Emergen Research. Rising adoption of electric start and hybrid engines is a key factor driving market revenue growth.

Small gas engines are commonly used in various applications including lawnmowers, generators, and other outdoor power equipment. There is rising emphasis on reducing emissions from small gas engines to meet stringent environmental regulations. Manufacturers are investing in Research & Development (R&D) to create cleaner and more fuel-efficient engines. Electric start engines reduce physical strain on users, as these don't require strenuous pulling of a starter cord, which can be particularly beneficial for older individuals or those with physical limitations. As consumers become more accustomed to electric start and hybrid technology in various applications, they may prefer equipment that offers these features.

[machineryasia]

TYPHON Mini Excavator Gas Engine EPA Machine, Crawler Excavator for Cons...

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[ashleysturn]

tease - matt sturniolo

overview: you are best friends with matt and his brothers. you go on a road trip with them, you are sitting in the passenger seat. you need matt’s touch, you’re desperate.

nsfw slow burn

<———————————————➰———————————————>

i’ve been best friends with matt and his brothers for a while now. i’ve never had any romantic or sexual feelings for any of them until recently.. i’ve been having some thoughts about matt. i can’t help it. his hands, his tattoos, his rings, his hair and eyes.. i feel like i need him but he’s my best friend.. and so are his brothers. so i just push those feelings down.

*4:49 am*

“y/n are you coming?” i hear matt’s voice impatiently calling me from downstairs.

i frustratedly crawl out of nick’s bed- him, chris and matt were already ready to leave. i knew we had to get up early for this road trip but not this early.

“i’m comingg” i draw out my words. i throw on a pair of comfy shorts and a baggy tshirt. i don’t bother putting on a bra, i mean i’m about to be in the car for nine hours.

i clumsily walk down the stairs holding my suitcase.

“so, we going?” i follow the boys out to the van. “i call shotgun. i need leg room” i get into the passenger seat. nick sits behind me, and chris behind matt who is driving.

*7:21 am*

“do you want anything?” matt softly says, rubbing my arm to wake me.

“huh? what time is it?” i start to sit up.

“no, no you don’t have to get up we’ve only been driving for a couple hours. chris had to piss, we’re stopped at a gas station”

I nod my head, my half awake self not fully comprehending what he’s saying. i yawn and stretch my arms.

“i want to stretch my legs”

matt nods in agreement and gets out of the car, opening the door for me. i step out of the car and stretch my legs. i shake out my body and get back in the car. matt walks a few laps around the gas pump as he waits for chris.

i watch matt attentively. he pushes his hair out of his face as he stretches. his shirt lifts up a bit, revealing his v-line. my eyes widen and i bite my bottom lip.

fuck snap out of it

i look down at my phone and scroll for a few minutes before chris returns back to the car.

“you know we’re about to drive through the mountains” matt says as he starts the engine of the van.

i look over at him and smile. “i’m going to stay awake i want to see.”

“i’m going back the fuck to sleep” nick says. chris agrees.

i shrug “your loss”

*8:43 am*

“look! aren’t they pretty” matt points as we start to drive up the side of a huge mountain. in the distance i can see gorgeous snow-tipped mountains.

“wow they really are” i look over at matt. his profile is perfect. i’d much rather look at him than the mountains.

he looks over at me and i quickly look away. i try not to smile.

“hey can you hand me my charger? i need my phone for the gps” matt points to the compartment in the door.

“oh, yeah sure” i reach into the compartment and pull out his phone charger. i reach my hand out.

matt’s hand lingers on mine for a brief moment as he grabs the charger from me. butterflies shoot through my stomach.

why is just a small touch affecting me so much

i sigh.

“hey y/n you alright?” matt looks at me with a concerned tone to his face.

“hm? yeah i’m fine” i say, barely a whisper.

“you sure? i can pull over”

i shake my head. “just tired”

“alright.” matt looks over at me and smiles. i look into his eyes for a brief moment, i feel my cheeks glow red.

-

i look out the window of the car, taking in all of the scenery as matt drives. i steal quick glances at his pretty face once in a while. there’s something oddly attractive about him driving.

“matt?” i look over at him with a smile

“mhm” his voice is sleepy

his sleepy voice sends a shock of electricity through my body. i can’t help but squeeze my thighs together as i watch him.

“what y/n?”

“nevermind” i look down at my lap.

“no, say it” matt looks over at me with almost a demanding look. we lock eyes.

“i- uh.” fuck think of something “i kinda need to pee”

“we just stopped an hour ago y/n.” he sighs

“no actually i can hold it”

“you sure?”

i nod my head.

i definitely feel something down there but i don’t have to pee.

-

*10:59*

chris and nick are still asleep in the back seat. me and matt have been pretty silent besides a few random little conversations.

as matt watches the road, i watch him. the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the way he subtly bites his lip as he concentrates. i swallow hard and readjust in my seat.

“matt i’m bored” i blurt out.

matt laughs. “are you five? you really need entertained?” he teases.

my cheeks flush pink. “maybe” i laugh, playfully slapping his arm

he laughs and nudges me back.

“can i see your hand?”

matt’s happy expression turns to a confused one.

“what? i mean sure but why?” he holds out his hand

“i want to look at your rings” i grab his hand and trace my pointer finger over his rings, turning them around and looking at the intricate engravings.

after a few minutes matt goes to take his hand away but i hold it in my lap. he holds my hand back.

i trace circles on the back of his hand. i take in the details of his long fingers that are intertwined with mine.

-

i can’t get comfortable in my seat- the mixture of being crammed in a car for hours and feeling a bit turned on just makes me feel restless. i decide to lay my back against the door and stretch my feet out across matt’s lap as he drives.

“what’re you doing?” matt looks over at me, but then back to the road.

“i need to stretch my legs”

“whatever i just don’t know if that’s safe”

i shake my head. “it’s fine”

matt shrugs. he reaches over to click on the radio.

i move my feet up higher on matt’s lap.

i see matt’s jaw clench but he doesn’t stop looking away from the road.

i decide to see how far i can take this until he says something

i move my feet up even higher on matt’s lap- practically inches away from his crotch.

“you getting comfortable?” matt clears his throat and looks over at me.

“mhm” i look over at him with needy eyes

“fuck” matt whispers under his breath. i pretend not to hear him

i eventually fall asleep with my legs stretched over matt’s lap.

-

the car goes over a bump that stirs me awake. i jolt up.

“sorry there was a pothole” matt looks over at me and smiles

“oh alright” i readjust my body to sit up normal in the seat.

“how long was i asleep?”

matt looks at the time. “about 45 minutes”

i nod my head.

“hey uh, do you maybe wanna stay up for a bit?”

i nod my head “yeah sure”

“im just getting tired i need to stay alert, i need someone to talk to.”

“oh yeah of course, sorry.” i feel bad that everyone has been able to sleep but him.

“no don’t be sorry i just want to talk to you” matt reaches over and gently places his hand on my leg, a few inches above my knee.

my breath hitches. i look down at his hand

matt traces shapes on my skin with his fingers, slowly moving up my thigh.

am i dreaming right now?

i have goosebumps all over my body. butterflies fill my stomach.

matt squeezes my thigh and runs his hand up further. i part my legs slightly.

“is this okay?” his voice quiet and sleepy

“mhm” i bite my bottom lip

matt’s pinky slips under the hem of my shorts, slowly the rest of his hand follows.

i can’t help but let out a small breathy moan- his hand being so close to where i want it the most.

matt looks over at me, his mouth slightly open. he looks down at where his hand is placed and bites his bottom lip.

he shifts around in his seat “i’m gonna make a quick stop. you still have to pee?”

“uh yeah i guess”

-

matt parks the car at the gas station and quickly unbuckles.

“should we wake up nick and chris?” i look into the back seat

matt grabs my jaw and turns my head to look at him “no, come on”

what is happening right now

matt gets out of the car and walks over to the passengers side. he opens the door for me and takes my hand.

i squeeze his hand and let him lead me.

“what’s going on?” i shyly ask

matt stops walking but doesn’t let go of my hand. “you know what you’re doing”

my brow furrows. “what?”

“come on don’t play dumb now”

“no say it what do you mean?” i face him

“don’t make me say it”

i start to walk back towards the car “okay i won’t”

“no wait-“ matt grabs ahold of my arm. i smile.

“i’m waiting” i cross my arms

i love teasing him.

“you’ve been teasing me” he says, embarrassed

i play dumb, “what?!”

i start to slowly walk away, a secret smile on my face

“no wait please” matt grabs my arm again

“maybe i read this wrong.” he says

i shake my head “you didn’t” i look up at him, his eyes widen.

he grabs my hand and guides me to the bathroom. i bite my lip as i follow him

-

matt closes the door behind us. he steps back “i uh-“

“you don’t need to say anything” i awkwardly smile

he stays silent for some time

is he going to make a move or do i have to?

“when you put your feet up on me-“

i shake my head and step forward.

“you know when you do those things they.. affect me”

i wait for him to continue

“i don’t know if you do it on purpose but-“

i smile and let him ramble

“you’re my best friend so i never wanted to say anything-“

he sighs

“but sometimes you really fucking mess with me”

he pauses

“and sometimes you do it on purpose i can tell. but other times just looking at you-“

he looks me up and down

“like right now fuck” he rubs his eyes “those little shorts and-“

“matt” i chime in

“i just can’t help it fuck”

“matt.”

“i think about you a lot. and i never want to make you uncomfortable but-“

“MATT”

“but sometimes i think about you when i-“

“MATT” i practically yell

“fuck. shit” he covers his face with his hands

“i want you to fuck me matt”

“y/n. i-“ he uncovers his face, his breath heavy. “i’m serious don’t be messing with me”

“i am serious” i grab his hands and i come closer to him

“please” i guide his hands down toward my waist.

his hands grip my waist and he pulls me close so our bodies are against each other

i feel his bulge rest against my thigh. i bite my bottom lip

matt cups my face with his hands and presses a deep kiss on my lips

“mmm” i moan into the kiss, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck.

matt breaks the kiss to look at me “you’re re so pretty” he kisses my forehead

i smile, my cheeks red.

i press my thigh into his crotch. matt lets out a whimper which sends electricity throughout my body.

“fuck i need you now” he groans and pushes me against the wall, kissing me.

he reaches down and unbuckles his belt and drops it to the floor. he deepens the kiss.

i moan into the kiss as he deepens it. i reach down and tug up at his shirt, which he then swiftly removes.

he pins my body against the wall again. he reaches up my shirt to massage my tits.

“oh fuck” he groans. “you’re so fucking sexy”

i tip my head back as matt grips onto my chest and teases my nipples with his fingers.

he lifts my shirt off of my body and presses me back against the wall- goosebumps raise on my skin when my back makes contact with the cold wall.

matt kisses down my jaw to my neck, leaving marks. i reach down and cup my hand over his bulge through his pants.

matt’s hips buck forward for more contact. i gently rub his clothed crotch

he breathes onto my neck as i tease him. he kisses and sucks on my neck, his body pressed against mine.

i reach down with my other hand to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. matt bites down on my neck as a sudden reaction, causing a mix of pain and pleasure.

i let out a loud moan of his name. he covers my mouth. “shh. shh”

shit i totally forgot where we are. but i don’t care.

“you gotta be quiet pretty girl” instead of matt removing his hand from my mouth he forces his fingers into my mouth.

i look up into his eyes and suck his fingers

“mm good girl”

he reaches down with his other hand and pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.

i look down at his hard cock

fuck it’s huge

my heart races.

matt removes his fingers from my mouth and traces them down my curves. he places his fingers gently on my clit through my panties. i let out a desperate moan

“please” i beg

“please what pretty girl? what do you want?” matt has a hungry look in his eyes.

“i want you to touch me. please” i beg

he looks me in me eyes as he applies more pressure to my sensitive clit

“oh fuck” i moan, my head tipping back

“no look at me” he grabs my face with his other hand.

i look back into his eyes as he touches me. i let out moans with every circle he rubs on my clit, i’m so sensitive- i’ve been wanting this. needing this.

“pretty girl can i take these off?” he tugs at the waistband of my panties

i nod my head “mhm, please”

matt wastes no time in sliding them down off of my body.

he takes all of our clothes and piles them up on the floor. he picks me up and lays me on top of them

i giggle at the makeshift ‘bed’ as he lays me down.

matt spreads my legs and hovers above me, looking down at me hungrily

i can’t believe this is happening. me completely exposed infront of my best friend in a random gas station in the middle of nowhere.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you sure?” matt looks at me with a sincere look

“yeah.. yes.” i nod my head.

he smiles and lines himself up with my entrance.

he slowly strokes himself for a moment before rubbing his tip over my folds.

“fuck you’re so wet” he whimpers

he continues rubbing his tip over my pussy for a minute before pressing it into me with a grunt

“oh fuck” i practically scream.

“you okay? i can go slow” he rubs my thighs to soothe me

“yeah you’re just really big” i laugh

matt shakes his head and rolls his eyes jokingly

“can i push in a bit more?”

i nod my head, spreading my legs further

“ah fuckk” matt groans as he pushes his length another inch into me

i feel his dick fill me up as he slowly pushes it in. i grip my nails onto his back.

“a little bit more pretty girl, can you take it all?”

i look up at him with a needy look in my eyes “yes please”

matt pushes my legs further apart, further than i thought they could. he bottoms out, his dick completely filling me up, my walls tight around him

“you’re so tight” matt start to slowly pump inside me

i moan with every movement he makes. he covers my mouth

“shh y/n you gotta be quiet for me.”

i nod my head.

matt picks up the pace, thrusting in and out of me quickly. the sound of skin slapping and moans fill the room.

my stomach ties in a knot. i’ve never felt like this before.

“fuck matt” i whine

“you okay?” he slows down

“fuck don’t stop please.” i beg “matt you feel so good inside me”

he quickens the pace once more, making my legs shake

“fuck i think i’m gonna cum” i can barely spit the words out though my moans

“cum for me pretty girl” matt pushes my hair out of my face. he reaches down and places his fingers over my sensitive clit.

all these feelings are so overwhelming. my walls start to tense up around his dick.

“does that feel good?“ matt asks, it’s obvious he can feel me tensing up.

“yes- don’t stop. please” i beg for release.

matt pushes down on my stomach. “feel how deep i am inside you? you like that?”

his words send me over the edge. my whole body tenses up, my legs shaking. the knot in my stomach releases as i cum around him

“oh fuck” matt quickly pulls out and without even stroking himself anymore he lets out hot cum all over my pussy and stomach

“fuck” he pants and lays down next to me on the pile of clothes.

“that was-“ i pant

“amazing” matt completes my sentence.

i nod my head.

-

matt grabs some paper towels and helps clean me up. he helps me to my feet and gathers my clothes.

“you okay?” he leans in for a hug

“yeah- more than okay” i hug him tightly.

suddenly there’s a knock at the door “matt? y/n?”

“fuck! what do we do!” matt whispers

“having a good time in there freaks?” we hear nicks voice

my eyes widen and i laugh as matt frantically puts his clothes back on.

<———————————————➰———————————————>

comment requests, i got so carried away this is soo long lmao

also sorry if there’s typos or anything lol i’m too lazy to proofread fully

[dsiddhant]

Mar 15, 2023 (AB Digital via COMTEX) -- The global Small Gas Engines Market is projected to reach USD 4.3 billion in 2028 from USD 3.3 billion in 2023 at a CAGR of 5.4% according to a new report by MarketsandMarkets™. The Small Gas Engines Market has promising growth...

[akajustmerry]

As a second generation Lebanese Australian from a Lebanese family who's always been pro-Palestine, it's so important to view the occupation's drone bombing of Beirut in context. 1) Zionist forces have been bombing the south for over 70 days with missiles and illegal white phosphorus bombs. 2) The 100s of 1000s od Palestinians in Lebanon are heavily discriminated against by the Lebanese government. Palestinian refugees who have lived in Lebanon for generations are denied rights to own property, work, healthcare, and education. 3) This is a reality that co-exists with the Zionist occupation historically treating Lebanon as an "enemy state", with the occupation invading, occupying, and massacring people in Lebanese territories as early as 1949 and as recent as 2006. 4) There is an ultra-right Christian nationalist sect in Lebanon who have historically supported the Zionist occupation, going so far as to form a small militia to assist the occupation in the Shatila and Sabra refugee massacres in which over 3,000 Palestinian and Lebanese people were slaughtered. 5) The Zionist occupation has been leveraging Lebanon's dire economic crisis to take more control over Lebanon's oil and gas fields. There is a huge history behind the occupation's drone strike and assassinations in Beirut today. A history that shows how the Zionist entity's boot on the necks of the surrounding governments has only led to the perpetration of more violence against Palestinians in these nations, as well as citizens of those nations. This is what settler colonial entities do. It's all they can do: division and violence. And when the coloniser can't do the violence themselves, they engineer conditions for others to do it for them under threat of violence. A ceasefire is not enough. The Zionist occupation of Palestine and the Levant must end.

[onlyhappyvibes]

That’s interesting

[traitormithos]

.

[sugar-phoenix]

𖥔 . overheating . 𖥔

synopsis: you're out on an operation with Boothill, and after a long battle and a quick getaway, you turn to realize that the cyborg cowboy is...overheating. With all the implications that come with that. tags: f!reader (Boothill refers to reader as "Lady" and "Missy" once), no smut, fluff, light romance a/n: 1.3k words, wrote this in a craze based off of a headcanon that @k9wa and @nvuy posted about! tickled my brain too much!

ao3 link here!

The sound of gunshots rang out in the night. You ducked in your getaway vehicle, a hover car illegally outfitted with nitrogen turbo boosters. Sticking our head out of the car every now and then, you aimed your pistol at the heads of IPC guards, knocking them dead left and right.

Boothill had been inside the IPC base for a while now. It was supposed to be a quick job. He only needed to run in, download the secret data straight to one of the USB ports on his hip, and then run out. Probably nailing an IPC soldier or ten in the head while he was there.

“Boothill,” you muttered, “where are you?”

You met the cowboy only once before this operation — he had sought you out as a fellow Ranger against the IPC for your getaway vehicle.

“’M gonna be lootin’ a pretty big IPC base, ‘n I need some kinda escape route,” he drawled. “You git me?”

You happily agreed. Why not? Anything that would be a loss for the IPC was a win for you.

Not to mention the cyborg cowboy was one of the finer men you’d come across in your travels.

Presently, you shook that thought out of your mind and fired a shot at another guard. It’s better to stay clear-headed when you’re in a shootout. Any unholy thoughts were perfectly fine to sift through in safer, calmer settings.

“Where is that dang cowboy?” you muttered again for the fifth time.

A hoot and a holler rang through the air, and you glanced towards the entrance. As though in answer to your question, Boothill emerged from within the base, running full gallop towards the vehicle.

“Start drivin,’” he ordered as he slid into the passenger seat.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you replied as more IPC soldiers spilled out of the entrance. The engine roared as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

“Ugh, turn up the A/C,” Boothill groaned.

“Turn ‘em up yourself, cowboy,” you responded. “I’m too busy making sure we’re getting away.”

The cyborg reached towards the dashboard and rotated the knob to the coolest possible setting. He leaned back into his seat, huffing and panting.

“All good?”

“Yeah. ‘S just a lot of fighting. Got me worked up.” He sniffed. “This dang A/C ain’t cool enough for me.”

You shrugged, checking the rearview mirror. The IPC vehicles were hot on your heels.  Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem for you. As an expert driver, you were fully trained in the art of evasive maneuvers. It’s what the cowboy hired you to do, after all.

You sped into the nearby city, a metropolis that conveniently had many twisty alleys and tight turns.

“This’ll be a piece of cake. Don’t you worry, cowboy,” you chuckled. The cowboy didn’t answer, and you were too busy focused on the road to check on him.

Drifting through intersections and jumping across lanes, you managed to throw off the majority of the IPC squadron pursuing you. There were only three small hover vehicles left, chasing you through a single-lane alleyway. You revved your engine to taunt them and cackled as the reverberations echoed off the buildings on either side.

The hovercar drifted, fishtailing as you made a sharp turn to the right. You swore as the sound of screaming metal rang out in the air, signaling that your spoilers had scraped against the walls.

“That’s gonna cost ya, cowboy,” you quipped, smiling as you saw two of the three vehicles crash into the wall behind you.

“Lady, I ain’t at fault for your drivin’ skills.”

You snapped your head towards Boothill, giving him a full-on death glare.

“Not that you drive bad, missy! I was just sayin,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. It was then that you realized he’d unzipped his jacket, letting it fall lazily off his shoulders.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you snapped your attention back to the road, trying to evade the last IPC hover vehicle. A few quick turns and an IPC crash later, you pulled into a dark alleyway and braked, turning off the car.

“Why are we stoppin’?” Boothill asked.

“They’re probably swarming the city. Best to lie low for now until it all subsides.”

There was shuffling in the passenger seat, and you turned to look.

Boothill laid back against the seat, his limbs sprawled out. His bangs were arranged in wet clumps, and sweat gleamed off his face in the glow from distant neon signs. The rest of his long hair was put up along the headrest behind him, leaving his neck bare. His jacket, bandana, and hat were thrown in the back, leaving his upper torso bare for all the world to see. His pants were shrugged low on his hip, almost revealing his unmentionables (did cyborgs even have unmentionables?). Panting and huffing, he closed his eyes, frowning. You could hear a loud hum emanate from within his robot body.

“Boothill?” you croaked, fighting to speak through the feeling of your brain frying in your skull. It wasn’t just his appearance that was, well, hot, but a boiling heat was radiating off of him. You had hardly noticed in all the earlier action.

“Yes, darlin’?” He groaned. Your heart fluttered at the way he said darlin.’

“What. Are you doing?” You hardly thought the cowboy was one to give in to his darker desires at the drop of a hat, although there was something off about the scene that told you it wasn’t motivated by lust.

He chuckled before answering.

“Told ya I got worked up during that fight. I’m overheatin.’ One of the problems with having a robot body, ya get me?” Boothill breathed out heavily, his breath steaming in the air. “Fudge,” he muttered, closing his eyes and frowning again.

“Are you in pain?” you asked. His stance was akin to a man tortured, impaled from the back with hot iron spears.

“Nah, darlin,’ nothin’ like that. Just… hot, is all. Really fudgin’ hot.” Boothill let out a breath of steam again. “It’ll go away, like it always does. I jus’ need ta’ keep still for a lil’ bit. Let it cool down.”

You leaned over him, trying to ignore how close you were to his hot (both physically and metaphorically) abs, and pushed the passenger door open. It only went so far as the narrow alleyway let it, but you could feel the cold air of the night wash over you both.

“Thank ya’ kindly, darlin,’” he murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” you said, leaning back. You jumped when your arm brushed over his body.

“Did I burn ya?” Boothill didn’t move but his eyes fixed you with a worried look.

“No, you didn’t, it’s just…” You trailed off, not knowing how to end that sentence without embarrassing yourself. A heat creeped over your cheeks again.

“Oh, I see,” he smiled. “You can touch me if ya want darlin.’ I don’t bite.” He punctuated that sentence with a wide grin, showing off his shark-like teeth.

“But not right now,” he said as you tentatively reached an arm towards him. “Not while I’m hot like this. And it ain’t cause I might burn ya sweetie, but with all due respect, I ain’t wanna touch anything right this moment.”

“Got it,” you said sitting straight back in your seat.

A silence filled the car, gently broken by the whir of Boothill’s internal fans and the ambient hum of the city outside.

It was a comfortable, soft kind of silence. You let it soak into your flesh, down to your bones, etching this moment inside of yourself. It was nice.

“’Course, when I’m not overheatin,” Boothill murmured, “you’re free to touch whatever.” He grinned mischievously.

“Stop it,” you said. “You’re gonna make me overheat.”

dividers by cafekitsune

[nouearth]

small things like these.

pairing. clark kent x male reader.

word count. 12.2k.

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

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

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

I: MAY.

It all started with a crash.

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

FASTER! YOU’RE RUNNING LATE!

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

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

Clark was a certified Metropolitan.

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

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

“S-sorry!” 

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

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

Faster. 

Clark’s thighs were on fire. 

His watch, two minutes.

Faster. Almost there. 

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

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

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

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

II: MAY.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yeah… Of course.”

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

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

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

“Who gets a Frappe in the morning though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-wait—“

“See ya, Mark!”

“It’s Clark!”

Maybe his luck was just beginning.

III: JULY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

IV: AUGUST.

“Nervous?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Clark.

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

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

Cavity-inducing.

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

Ten steps closer than before to Lois.

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

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

That’s right.

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

Clark gave you cavities.

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

You needed to get rid of Clark.

V: DECEMBER.

It was partially his fault, wasn’t it?

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

“You’re always talking about Lois…”

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

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

It felt intimate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, this was different.

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

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

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

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

VI: DECEMBER.

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

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

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

To be completely honest, it was your fault.

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you. I really miss you.”

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

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

Throbbing. Your gums.

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

Beating. Your heart. 

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

VII: DECEMBER.

Clark had mixed feelings seeing you at his doorstep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

Nothing was funny. Just simply relieving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was indisputably pleasure.

“I’m all yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heartbeat spiked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A vow.

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

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

You were completely and utterly full to overflowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was need.

Two. 

You reminded Clark that you were going to come.

One. 

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

“Clark—“

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

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

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

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

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

Until you were bonded to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is it because he saved you or—”

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

“Wait, holy crap—“ 

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

[vaiswr]

Small Gas Engines Market Size Worth USD 5.46 Billion in 2032

The global small gas engines market size was USD 3.21 Billion in 2022 and is expected to register a revenue CAGR of 5.5% during the forecast period, according to latest analysis by Emergen Research. Rising adoption of electric start and hybrid engines is a key factor driving market revenue growth.

Small gas engines are commonly used in various applications including lawnmowers, generators, and other outdoor power equipment. There is rising emphasis on reducing emissions from small gas engines to meet stringent environmental regulations. Manufacturers are investing in Research & Development (R&D) to create cleaner and more fuel-efficient engines. Electric start engines reduce physical strain on users, as these don't require strenuous pulling of a starter cord, which can be particularly beneficial for older individuals or those with physical limitations. As consumers become more accustomed to electric start and hybrid technology in various applications, they may prefer equipment that offers these features.