Hello my friends,My name is Bilal Ahmad.I am reaching out to you as a citizen of Gaza who is suffering from severe injuries and critical health conditions that threaten my life every day. I sustained a serious injury to my eye and urgently need another surgery to save me from the risk of permanent blindness.
In addition, I have a disability in my left hand. Most critically, I suffer from a severe abdominal injury that has greatly damaged my intestines, leaving them unable to function properly. My condition continues to worsen, and the danger to my life increases with each passing day.
Given the current situation in Gaza, it is no longer possible for me to receive the complex medical treatment I urgently need in a safe and complete manner. After God, my only hope is your support and kindness.
I humbly ask for your help. Please be the light of hope that allows me to reach Egypt and receive the medical treatment I desperately need in its hospitals so that I may recover and regain my health.
Please hear my voice and give me a chance to receive treatment and a humanitarian opportunity to pass through. Even a small donation can make a difference and help cover my medical care.
Thank you in advance for your generosity, compassion, and support. I am deeply grateful for any help you can provide.
đ From Gaza⊠where suffering has become daily life đ
I am from Gaza â a father whose only goal is to keep his children alive.Our home was destroyed đïž,
and we no longer have a place to shelter.We move from one place to another, searching for safety, warmth, and a piece of bread đ.
My children go to sleep hungry đą,and my wife and daughter were injured and are still living with pain đ.
There is no work, no income, and no certainty about tomorrow â only fear.In Gaza, we do not dream big dreams.We only dream of a day that passes in peace đ ,
a meal that fills our childrenâs stomachs,and a night where they can sleep withouut the sound of bombing.This is not just a story of sorrow,but the testimony of a human being trying to survive,clinging to life despite everything.Gaza is not numbers.
Gaza is faces, children, and hearts that grow tired â but never surrender đ”đž
Clark Kent having yearly heat seasons?? Def not from my own kinks about breeding or anything-
I need ur opinion bout this, definitely for science purposes teehee
[explicit 18+ desperate heat hcâs] clark during his heats is a whole entirely different beast in bed. like. heâd normally hesitate before starting a round, kissing and teasing his ladyâs neck at first to see if she initiates more to go further. when heâs in heat he establishes a safe word that means full stop and he respects it without a doubt, but if he doesnât hear that safe word he goes hard. heâs getting his cock free no matter what time of day it is, heâs rutting it up against his lover like heâs on autopilot and wouldnât fully be aware or conscious that heâs doing it. his body just takes over and leaves him in the backseat. when sheâs not home he ruts himself against furniture, their couch pillows, blankets, slap himself up against the hard granite of the counter and making himself leak everywhere just to feel something. because his dick canât take not having attention during these heats, itâs unbearable to feel the cool air and nothing else.
and he cums ungodly amounts too, like, splatters a mess and will keep fucking even after his nut, busting another, and another, and another. she tries to suck him good and deepthroat as much as she could to satisfy his poor aches but even after he cums she knows she barely scratched the surface of that need growing inside him. she takes a little bit of time off work to bounce on his cock for an entire afternoon, whimpering and wetting the sheets while clark is still stuck with an angry, determined furrow in his brow that showed precise focus and that he was not close to stopping. his final load is always climactic, bursts of thick white spilling everywhere he canât control, his screams and howls unabashed while he gets sweat and cum everywhere - keeps pounding her pussy through his finish just to watch it gush out like a pool and make the nastiest sounds while he fucks it all back in.
he always stops so she gets water and food breaks but will still have to touch and rut himself up against something while sheâs gone in the kitchen. and heâs already bricked up and leaking everywhere again, waiting for her. when he is so exhausted heâs knocked out with little snores leaving his throat, and sheâll ease him out of slumber with her mouth around his tip and her hands gently cradling his balls, and heâll rush out a slurred thank you, baby and hold her hair back, assuring her itâs almost over, itâs almost done, you fucked me so good baby. Iâm so grateful I have you, donât know what I would do if I didnât.
Summary : your ex boyfriend is a fucking loser, it took clark so long for you to see that. And heâs very eager to help you pick up your stuff.
Contents : swearing , mentions of drugs , mentions of cheating, use of Polaroid camera, making out , P In V unprotected sex , quickie in exes bed , Clarkâs a long time yearner. Mentions of love bites and bruises , slight pervy Clark?
(Loosely based on the song flavour of the weak by American Hi-fi)
Clark hated your ex. Really hated him , and Clark doesn't really hate anyone .. well besides a few. But your Ex? Was on a whole new level.
It took months of clark saying "he doesn't appreciate you!" Or "okay! Does he know your favourite song? I do!"
And he did. He knew every single thing about you. Your ex on the other hand? Did not. Heck you spent so long with him and you could've been stark naked in front of him and he would be too busy watching his tv or playing his game. The only way you could get that man's attention was by dangling a joint in front of him like a donkey with a carrot.
Then there was the cheating. He had cheated on you more than once and worse than that ? You stayed.
You fucking stayed with a man with an unstable job and did everything for him. Why? You may ask.
You didn't wanna be alone. Of course you weren't really alone. You had Clark. But it wasn't the same. So when you finally broke up with him about a week ago. Clark almost felt like arranging a whole party. But he didn't. If anything he was more worried for you.
That was until you knocked on his door. He opened it quickly and his smile grew the second he saw you. To him you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen and his favourite person all in one.
"Hey hey! What's up" He Leans against the doorframe , he was wearing a white shirt , no tie and some black trousers. You on the other hand wearing a pair of shorts and a baggy hoodie You bite your lip thinking for a moment and finally speak up.
"Uhm... can you come with me... I'm gonna pick things up from jaspers place.." You sighed and he grins grabbing a jacket.
"Lead the way!! Roadtrip!" He was really happy about it and you roll your eyes.
"Could you try sound a little less excited" You raise an eyebrow at him.
"Oh noooo! Let's go get your things" He frowns and you playfully swat his arm getting in the car and driving towards his apartment.
"Before you get excited. He's not gonna be there. We're gonna be in and out and get rid of these fucking keys" You pull over and he whines.
"That's no fun!, I wanted to have a peaceful word with him." He groans and you roll your eyes walking up a few sets of stairs before using the spare key to unlock his apartment carrying a box ,as soon as you open the door you're hit with the strong smell of weed that always lingered in the air.
"Good grief that's literally awful. Remind me what you saw in this guy again?" He teases but he genuinely wanted to know.
"Fucked if I know Clark" You huff walking to jaspers bedroom opening the door. And as you do. Clark sees all the Polaroids. All the pictures of the girls your ex has been with. He walks over to look at them while you throw some things into a box.
"Seriously ? This is the type of girls he goes for. They all have fake boobs... at least yours are real." He tuts shaking his head.
"Clark!" You gasp and he shrugs unbothered. "What ! It's true! Plus you're way prettier than any of them" He smiles helping you throw some items into the box his blue eyes sparkling with truth.
The comment made your heart thud and you clear your throat.
"You're biased Kent." You scoff and he shakes his head and picks up a Polaroid camera.
"Hey! Smile" You look up and the flash goes off and you shriek. He chuckles heartily shaking the pic to let it develop.
He looks down at it , a fond smile on his face.
"You're so fucking beautiful." He almost coos pulling out his wallet and placing it in the photo sleeve.
"Clark shut up!!" You were going a shade of red and suddenly really shy around your best friend. You look to see if he's joking. But oh. The way he looks at you like you're heaven on earth.
"You're blushing" He states moving closer to you.
"No I'm not ! Clark I think the weed stench is getting to your brains" You scoff placing an item in the box.
"Strictly not possible, now look at me!" He lifts up your chin and leans down , his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back to your lips.
"He really did a number on you sweetheart... I really wish you could see how I see you." You go even more red and he speaks up again.
"Please can i kiss you?" He tilts his head. You raise an eyebrow "Really? I'm in my exes bedroom?" He slides his thumb across your lower lip.
"Thought you said he's not here?" He repeats your statement from before with the biggest shit eating grin ever. Who are you to deny your best friend.
You stand on your tiptoes and pull him by his shirt smashing his lips into yours , it's a soft sweet kiss. Way more gentle than Jasper was with you.
His hand cradled the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss slowly pushing his tongue into your mouth making you gasp.
He hooks his leg behind your legs swiping them so you fall back onto jaspers bed making you shriek. It felt wrong. To be making out with your best friend on your exes bed. But again. Who were you to stop it. He smelt like newspapers , ink and something comfy.. something homey.
He pulls away his eyes shimmering with worry "is this okay?" You nod with a sweet smile reaching your hand down to tug on his belt and he chuckles darkly tilting his head "on your exes bed? Really sunshine?" He coos.
"He's not here" you mock his earlier comment and he scoffs shaking his head undoing his belt for you sliding his pants down letting them pool around his legs and you're quick to take your shorts off not bothering to take your shoes off. , he undoes his shirt ,You slip your underwear off watching him groan at the sight of your glistening wet pussy as he slips his boxers down his legs letting his semi hard dick spring out. He wraps his hand around himself pumping himself a few times groaning.
"Take your hoodie off for me sunshine ?" He coos and you do, you weren't wearing a bra and his jaw clenched at the sight pumping his leaking dick a little harder.
"Oh Jeez... look at how stunning you are" He moans. He needed to be inside you fast before he literally came from looking at you.
You were getting wetter by the second and he leans over you slowly pushing his dick between your folds , his tip stretching you alone. He was way bigger than Jasper making your jaw drop and gasp loudly.
"Ahh shh shh look at me baby... look at me" He coos leaning over you more to push in further.
When you look up his eyes are glimmering with care ... and something else.
"Shhh.. almost there you're doing so good baby" He completely bottoms out making you shriek moaning and you reach to kiss him, he's fast to react his tongue sliding into your mouth groaning as he sets a pace thrusting his big dick between your soaking wet pussy, your gummy walls gripping him.
He peppers kisses down your neck biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks until he reaches your breast. One hand on your hip to help fuck into you, the other squeezing the flesh of your breast groaning. His head lowers dragging his tongue along the other nipple making you whine arching your back. Causing his dick to fuck deeper at this angle. His teeth grazing and nipping gently before he starts biting and sucking at the flesh whimpering.
"Oh he fumbled hard baby.." He coos lifting his head proud of the mark he's left on your breast only rutting harder into you, your wetness soaking his dick and your exes bedsheets.
"Mind if I do Something baby?" He asks so sweetly lifting his frame still having a hand on your hip as he thrusts into you , balls slapping against you and the sound of your wetness filling the room.
"Of course.. anything Clark" You moaned in response and he reaches over grabbing the Polaroid camera.
"Smile for me sunshine" He coos taking a photo of him literally fucking you, you laid out stark naked. He takes it out and shakes it still rutting his hips , he takes another letting the flash go off. He takes another his hand around your throat gently. Another but this time he picks up his pace slamming his dick into you harder and captured a photo of your mouth wide open making sinful noises.
"CLARK! Please!" You whimpered wrapping your legs around him pushing him even deeper.
He throws your legs over his shoulder folding you In half and kissing you deeper than before. It was messy. Tongues everywhere. His glasses getting nudged in the process , you whining and him grunting like your pussy is the greatest thing he's ever felt.
"She's the perfect fit for me baby.." He grins taking one more photo making sure his face is in the frame this time. He tosses the camera aside and grabs your face as he pounds into you , you moaned loud enough and he secretly hoped all jaspers neighbours could hear it. The Polaroids of him fucking you scattered around you.
"SHIT! Clark baby I'm gonna cum!" You almost sobbed and he looked so proud
"Yeah me too baby.. you okay if I cum in you?, I'll buy you plan b..whatever you need" He coos and you nod eyes rolling back as your orgasm comes crashing down spluttering your juices all over his dick. The sensation sent him over the edge whimpering as his dick explodes load after load into your pussy. He kisses you deeply fucking you through your orgasm and pushing the cum even deeper.
He gasps collapsing on top of you but popping his elbow up so he doesn't crush you.
"You okay sweet thing?" He coos and you gasp catching your breath but nod. "Jesus Christ Clark! I'm good... you okay?" You return the question and he nods pulling out , both of your cum spilling out and dripping onto the bed, he grabs a shirt off the floor to wipe you.
"Clark! That's jaspers shirt!" He shrugs wiping you up and tossing the shirt pulling his pants up and doing the buckle on his belt and buttoning his shirt. You sit up and pull up your shorts and pull on the hoodie.
You watch him pocket the Polaroids he took humming again. He places one on jaspers bedside table grabbing a pen that was nearby.
"Clark. What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow and stand up walking over. He had placed a Polaroid of him fucking you with a note next to it
"Im taking care of her now buddy:)! - Clark" You gasp and swat his arm and he just looks so proud of himself.
"Think of it as a goodbye to him from me!" He puts his hands on his hips before grabbing the box and you follow him out locking the apartment door pushing the keys through the letterbox and you both get down to your car. He loads the box into the back for you and gets in the passenger seat.
You take a deep breath shutting the boot and getting into the drivers seat and pulling your seatbelt on.
You started to drive and he pulls his wallet out of his pocket again, opening it up to look at the photo of you smiling and gently rubs his thumb over the photo before looking at you.
"Real pretty isn't she hm?" His voice is soft and sweet and he pockets his wallet again next to the Polaroids.
You shake your head smiling at him.
"You're an idiot. I can't believe you left a photo" You laugh softly.
"Just not gonna mention me fucking you in his bed? Jeez sunshine the weed fumes really have gotten to your head."
You flip him off and he lets out a huge belly laugh throwing his head back.
Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k words
Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, some praise...
A/N: There was a gif that I saw that inspired this fic and now I cannot find it for the life of me. All I know is that I either saw it on @kryptidfiles or @maiamore's profile. But um also they are both really really good fucking writers and if you're looking for some quality Clark Kent content, these are your blogs. Anyway, enjoy!
The tiny closet is uncharacteristic when you see how large and bronze-y the Daily Planet actually is. It's unimpressive with its metal shelves of Post-Its, pens, papers, and all the other office supplies that inhabit the space. Two older, slower printers are tucked near the back with stacks of papers ready to be picked up.
But, to give credit where credit is due, Clark is a very big man. And that makes a great number of the rooms he inhabits smaller than they are.
He hears the door open behind him and startles, having not expected to be joined by anybody elseâas this closet isn't favored among the employees when there are closer, better ones in operation.
Clark chose it to take a moment to breathe, to give his mind a reprieve from the mental load it is to think straight when all he senses is the smell of your perfume wafting off you from where you sit across the office.
Come to think of it, the air in the room is starting to smell quite familiar.
He turns around so fast, he nearly drops the files he's holding onto like they're a lifeline. He almost chokes on his own spit when he goes to swallow down the flustering. His glasses have gone slightly askew, and he wouldn't be surprised if his hair was a complete and total mess to pair nicely with his red face.
âUhâHi! YouâŠhad some copies, too?â He's making a fool of himself, more than usual, and he thinks he may have to just fly into the sun once this interaction is done.
You hum from where you are at the door, smiling with darkly glossed lips. You take a few steps towards him, just slow enough for Clark to feel like a little lamb looking up at lioness and her enchanted, flicking eyes distracting him from her blood-soaked maw.
âNo,â you shrug, âjust needed something.â
Clark somehow gets backed into a printer and clears his throat like it will cover the sound of him hitting the machine. âAh,â he nods, quickly turning around, happy to have any excuse to avoid further humiliating himself.
He starts shoving papers into folders. The closer you step, the warmer the air becomes, the warmer he becomes until he's betraying his Mama's name with his awful thoughts and the awful reaction his body is having to them. To you.
Before he can even begin to sort his thoughts enough to pretend he's not a pervert, he feels your shoulder brush up against the side of his arm. He's reminded of just how small you actually are compared to him, after his brain has done nothing but make you feel like something towering over him with your divinityâ(is that what you are?).
He glances at you reaching your hand up for one of the upper shelves. You don't seem to be stretching very farâthat is, you don't seem to be trying very hard. Which doesn't mean anything! As lovely and professional as your skirt is, in his professional opinion, it is a bit on the shorter end. Your tights do their job in covering what your skirt cannot, but they also just give him a really lovely outline of the bottom half of your soft, pillow-y thighs, only to then offer a direct path all the way down the curve of your calves.
He imagines what it would be like to hold your leg in his hands. How soft would it be, how small. Would you laugh if he squeezed, or would you sigh as the tension released? And if it sighed, would it be a quiet breath, or would the relief let the gentlest moan slip just enough to supply his dirtier thoughts with something to think about a million times over.
âKent?â
His head snaps up at the speed of light. He pales when he realizes he's been caught red-handed staring at your legs like a total creep.
You offer this little smile, and he's so hopeless that he chooses to ignore the deviant grin that hides, thinly-veiled, in your voice. âCould you help me reach that?â
He follows your finger up to the box of index cards just out of reach on the shelf behind you. He swallows thickly, nodding to himself as he brings his folders back to his chest.
You don't move. You're still pushed up against the shell, your hand resting lazily on a shelf that you can reach. And it doesn't seem like you'll be moving any time soon.
He clears his throat nervously, âY-yeah. âCourse.â
Clark holds his breath like it'll save him as he takes little steps forward, shuffling his feet as he slowly gets closer to you. And closer. Until his body is nearly pressed up against your back.
Your warmth is seeping through his clothes and into his skin. Every breath brings nothing but the smell of your perfume, your hair, the deodorant underneath it all. He holds his breath and clenches his jaw like that will keep the insistent arousal in his pants from threatening to press into your back.
He snatches the index cards the moment they're within reach. And just as he's pulling away, he swears he felt your body brush back against his own, your bottom pressing into him the way a cat would to an owner's leg.
Stacks of paper fall to the ground in a fluttering mess of scattered files and folders. He wishes the ground would swallow him whole.
He's too proper to accuse you of doing this on purpose. So as he rushes to the floor with a clumsy urgency and starts haphazardly collecting his things, he does it while rattling out apologies and repeating in his head over and over again, âStupid, stupid, stupid.â
He's a heap of a man on his knees. His glasses are off kilter, his tie is thrown over his shoulder, his hair is probably a floppy mess. If he ever had a plan to impress you during this whole ordeal, it has been disgraced into a need for a speedy exit in the hopes that you'll forget about it, and you can both pretend it never happened.
âSorry! I don't know what happened. Iââ
A black heel lands abruptly on top of the folder he went to collect. He freezes in place, his brain short circuiting into a mess of confusion and shock and spell-related dysfunction.
His gaze slowly drags up the length of your leg, clad in sheer black tights that just barely hide your skin from him. He travels past your knee, along your skirt, up your blouse where his eyes linger ungentlemen-like on your bosom.
Your eyes lock. There's a smile on your lips that makes him feel like he's been set on fire from the inside.
You linger, just watching each other like you've got him locked into an enchantmentâand you do. With slow, teasing hands, you grab the middle of your skirt and begin to drag it up your thigh. Clark watches, unable to look away. His breath is useless, his glasses are becoming harder to see through, and he's sure his face is red as tomatoes in the summer sun.
âIf you don't mind, Kent,â you hum, lifting your knee and letting it meet the underside of his chin. You tilt his head up to meet your gaze once more. He's completely starstruck, glued to your every will like sap on a tree. âI think I might need a little more of your helpâŠâ
Clark gulps.
His mouth falls and closes, and then falls once more, before finally relenting. âMyâŠhelp?â His wide eyes are bright even in the dim room.
Your heel returns to the paper-covered floor. With a tiny breath and a glance away, you murmur, âUnless you don't want to.â
Something twists in his chest. He's pretty sure by now that you are, in fact, doing this on purpose, but the off chance that you are as dejected as you seem has shattered his heart out of his own idiocy. If he weren't already on his knees before you, he would be crashing down onto them now.
Clark eagerly reaches a giant hand to you, wrapping it around your calf with a kind of gentleness a man his size shouldn't have. He's warm where his palm cradles your leg, his other hand holding your ankle like you're made of pure gold.
The way his eyes shine at you is enough to drive you mad. His thumb brushes the inside of your knee as he tentatively drags his hand beneath the bend of your knee.
âWhatâŠâ his shallow breath stutters. âWhat kind of help?â His glasses are beginning to fog up an almost ridiculous amount. He hopes you don't notice and quietly knows you do.
A grin makes its way to your lips, spreading as your hand comes to card your fingers through the black curls of his hair. He shudders beneath your touch. âI think you know.â
There's a moment where neither of you moves. He looks up at you with an unbelieving kind of reverence. His thoughts are rushing, piling on top of each other and making them near incoherent.
She wants me. She wants me? Terrifying. I never thought she'd choose me. She wants me. Beautiful. Is this a dream? She has to be a dream. So pretty. I have to worship her. I adore you. Am I dreaming?
Clark's lips press against your knee and linger. His eyes never leave yours. He traces his mouth tentatively along your skin, watching you as his hands carefully make their way up your leg, slipping beneath your skirt and spreading wide over your hips. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your tights, and he slides them down your legs with a painstaking care that makes your chest shake.
Clark cradles your ankle as he removes your heels, holds his breath when your tights are placed gently on the floor. He looks back up at you with eyes that shine before his gaze drags down your body, stopping at your skirt.
He takes his time in lifting it up and over your hips, and his breath stutters at the sight. He forgets he's supposed to be cherishing you (he's also forgotten that time is not as generous as he's playing it to be), and he dives forward to press his mouth to your clothed pussy. He kisses you over your underwear, licking the wet he finds there and moaning at the taste.
You smile at him, drawn by the way he mouths at you like you're something irresistible. You let your fingers curl through his hair again, tilting it back just enough to make him look at you again.
âWe don't have all day, Kent.â
Your gentle chide kicks him into overdrive. You're right. Of course, you're right. You asked for his help, and time is not on his side. Anyone could walk in, or come looking for one of you after being gone for so long. Although he really wants to cherish every inch of you, he knows he can't properly do that. At least not here.
So he'll just have to do so well that you let him do it again, when he can truly take his time with you.
Clark peels your underwear off with a little more urgency, just as careful to set it where he'd left your tights. He doesn't let himself gawk at the sight of you for too long as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, taking on most of your weight with ease.
When Clark's mouth meets you, you gasp.
He's indulgent. He leaves kisses for you to feel all over after he's done. They linger on the inside of your thighs, your mound, the wetness of your pussyâwhich he gladly buries his face in. He licks and sucks along your slick folds until youâwho he has never seen with a hair out of placeâare covering your mouth to keep quiet as breathy hums become muffled moans behind your hand.
Clark is anything but quiet. He's almost whining at the taste of you on his lips, a mix of spit and arousal coating his chin. The tip of his nose brushes your clit in such a way that you know he has to be doing it on purpose. (He's not.)
His eyes are heavy-lidded, his skin is the prettiest shade of red, and his crooked glasses are so fogged up that you wonder how well he can actually see. They'd probably do better off, but you quite like the way he looks like this, messy and generally wrecked. He mumbles into your pussy like his mouth isn't full. âSo good. You're soâmmph!â The nastiest slurping sound fills the room, and you're breathlessly trying not to moan while also trying to reprimand him for such blatant noise.
âClark!â Your whisper is almost not a whisper. Clark moans at the sound of his name on your lips. He has never heard you say it before, and fearing it now is doing numbers on him and his ruined underwear. âC-can't be so loud. We'reâmâmy god. Gonna get caught.â
Right now, Clark couldn't give less of a fuck. He's here on his knees in front of you with his face between your legs, living an absolute dream. If Perry White himself opened that door and fired him on the spot, he can't say that he would be too upset for as long as he could still taste you on his tongue and remember the feeling of your moans through the vibrations in your thighs.
He flattens his tongue and licks, he wraps his pink lips around your clit and sucks, his arms come up and wrap securely around your hips to make sure you can't squirm away in your pleasure. The sheer size of him is evident enough when he's standing, but here with him on his knees from you, it's staggering. Your thighs are the size of his biceps, for fuckâs sake. The man is massive, but he crumbles completely the moment you flutter your lashes too well.
You feel his tongue stroke along your sex, dipping inside to taste your arousal as it gathers. You feel the filthy, wet sensation of drool making you impossibly soaked. Your greedy hands only pull him closer to youâif that were possible. He clings to you like he's worried you'll slip away, with strong arms clasped around your thighs and his glasses crooked from being pressed so closely to you.
âRight there, mhm.â Your voice is this shaky thing in the air, hushed but overwhelmingly aroused. When you feel one of his hands brush his thumb along your slit, your thighs tense. He teases your folds, stroking and spreading your wetness around, using it to rub indulgent circles over your clit. You feel like glass ready to shatter.
âFuckâKent,â you gasp. His mouth goes slack against your pussy. He sucks your clit into his mouth until you're holding your breath to keep from making sound. Your goal dissipates when he slides one thick finger into you. You feel your knee threaten to bend and give out beneath you, lucky to have most of your weight held up by the mass between your thighs.
Clark coaxes in and out of you in deep, intentional strokes, curls until he finds a spot in you that has your heart beating a little differently, your breath shifting into something instinctually shaky. He's looking up at you over the rim of his crooked glasses to see how your eyes have glossed over, how your jaw goes loose. A second finger joins the first, and he's pumping his fingers into you until you're moaning like you've forgotten where you are.
Refusing to go far, Clark's words are slurred against your slick folds as he murmurs in hushed warnings. âSound so prettyââ a stray whimper slips out of you in response, ââbut you, mmph, gotta be quiet, honââ
He cuts himself off with his eagerness to keep tasting you, greedy and enchanted by you. You make some breathy sound and raise a hand to cover your mouth. It's a weak attempt, but it works well enough.
He just works his fingers so well against that fucking spot. He sucks and licks at your clit like candy, and you're too close to handle it all. Your thighs quiver with each passing second. He can see you, hear you, feel you getting closer. It's like experiencing a miracle, some strange and beautiful magic unraveling before him.
You struggle to think straight as you feel that heat gathering, the knot building into something glorious. You grab and tug at his dark curls, you arch your back and roll your hips against his face, you try as hard as you can to hold in your sounds.
Clark is aching for it just as much as you. You look down at him, the mess of a man he is on his knees and drooling into your cunt. He's so pretty, probably the most beautiful man with the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen. And looking at him, peaking over his glasses and gazing at you like you're precious, a thought passes through you that maybe you've seen those gorgeous eyes beforeâŠ
You don't have much time to think about it, though. His fingers coax you a certain way, and his lips smacking against you as his tongue massages your clit gets to be too much when he moans into you like he's never had anything better. You hadn't realized just how close you were until your fingers are tugging at his curls and your jaw is slack with a sneaking pleasure.
âOhâ Clark, Iââ you gasp, stifling your sounds to a quiet squeak that would embarrass you if you weren't so far gone. âFuck, yes, Clark. Yes, yes, yes.â
Clark holds tightly as he carries you through your orgasm like a mission. He's deliberate and indulgent, he looks like he'll fall apart from just watching you. Every tremble and every breathy sound that comes out of you has him that much more disheveled and needy.
âGood,â he huffs, his deep voice dangerously close to a whimper of his own. âGood girl. Soâ mmmâ you're so perfect.â
You struggle to put yourself back together. Every time you start to come down, his tongue strokes another tremble out of you that shoots up your spine and makes you soft. You're stuck doing nothing but shaking and failing to hold your own weight until the sharp feeling of overstimulation has you pushing him away from you with a gasp.
You stand there on shaky legs, with Clark still knelt in front of you and ready to catch you if you fall. He stares up at you like you're a shining star, and you would look shyly away if his eyes weren't so enticing.
You reach forward, and as your hands come to his face, he reaches up to catch your elbow when your fingers find his glasses. It is, by no means, a rough touch. It's like he's bracing himself, wound up with an anxiety that he watches you notice.
Then you adjust his crooked glasses to sit right on his face. His eyes flutter when you stroke your thumb delicately along the apple of his cheek.
With bated breath and a smile softer than he's ever seen on you, you murmur. âThank you.â You push this lonely curl out of his face.
He looks like he's at a loss for words. So instead of answering, he presses this soft, gentle little kiss to the inside of your knee. Then he's redressing you with movements slower than what the unintimidating threat of time should allow.
It's only once you're fully decent again that he finally stands to his full height, dwarfing you once more. The sight of him, toe to toe with you and giant, has you looking smaller than usual. It's not an alarming look either. You look like you're trying not to fluster. He's never seen you look like this. And it's driving him crazy.
âThank you,â he murmurs, deep and gentle and unnervingly sweet.
You smile at him, and he's lost all his breath in a moment. âYou should get cleaned up. You look like a mess.â
Your gaze drifts down, finds his mouth, plump-lipped and pink.
When you kiss him, he's frozen for the first second. Then he's wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him like he's been waiting years for this. His body molds to yours like your body completes him. He kisses you until you're just as breathless as him.
And when you pull back, you can taste yourself off his lips. You give him another smile, this one filthy and sly. âSee you around, Kent.â
And then you leave him standing alone in the closet like nothing ever happened, folders and papers on the floor, the index cards you'd asked him to grab for you left behind. The only sign you were ever there is the lingering of your perfume in the air, your taste on his tongue, and the visible outline of his cock against his slacks.
Superman taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess
Clark Kent taglist: @disillusioniary @pinkpantheris @joaofandoms @harumscarumcos @dethspllz @yogichi @jackierose902109 @serendippindots @linda-park-arrow @tiredkiwi26
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Summary: When a job goes off the rails, Craig calls Popeâs wife for help.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Mentions of sex, Mentions of robbery (I mean, itâs Animal Kingdom), Heavy makeout, Pope being obsessed with his wife, Please let me know if I forgot anything!
Author's Note: This came to me in a vision. I donât know what to tell you. But, as always, please let me know what you think! I wrote this one quick because Iâve been in a bit of a writing funk, so feedback is always the best kind of inspiration!!
Word Count: 1.6k
-
The steering wheel is cool beneath your fingers. The midday sun is burning through your sunglasses. Anxiety is twisting in your stomach.
You donât fight with your husband. Ever. Sure, you can bicker sometimes, but even then itâs always more one-sided on your end. Pope Cody would burn the world to the ground for you. He would kill a man without question if you merely asked him to. He loves you so much that it borders on obsession, and it might even be a little bit unhealthy if you werenât as unbelievably in love with him as he is with you.
When you bicker, itâs usually caused by nothing more intense than one of you being tired and grumpy. And those tiffs more often than not end with you both apologizing, him hiding his smile with a kiss to your forehead, and then dragging you to the bedroom so you can take any lingering frustration out on each other in moreâŠcreative ways.
And so, despite it all, despite the obsessive way he loves you and the stress of his lifestyle and Smurf constantly trying to bring you into it, you donât fight.
But this⊠he is gonna fucking kill you for this.
If you survive it in the first place, that is.
Deep breath. Grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Focus on the parking lot. Bite down the anxiety that feels like itâs ripping your stomach lining apart.
Five.
You shouldnât be here. You know that. ButâŠ
Four.
You promised him you would never get involved. Not in any of this shit.
Three.
You kind of wish you had a coffee or something. Maybe a shot. The amount of adrenaline coursing through your system is nearly unbearable and you havenât even started moving yet.
Two.
The passenger door is ripped open, and Craig Cody nearly knocks you into the window with how quickly he barrels into the car.
âDrive!â
âNope.â Your voice is steady. Firm.
âWhat?!â What, indeed. You donât care how they usually do this, but no one is jumping into a moving car today.
One.
Pope moves into the backseat like a wraith, sliding in with a duffel bag over his shoulder and Deran and Jay right behind him.
He opens his mouth, the word âmoveâ a sharp crack from his lips before his dark eyes land right. The fuck. Onto you.
âNo.â
âHey, honey.â Your voice is tight. Too bright. âLong day?â
Heâs looking at Craig, now. Oh boy, he might kill him before he kills you.
âSheâs obviously gonna get a cut.â Craig says, like that helps, and you grip the steering wheel a little more tightly. Check the rearview again.
âGet out of the car.â Heâs speaking to you, and you donât have time to tell him heâs being overprotective.
âSeatbelts.â
âAre you serious right-â
âShut up, Craig. Seatbelts.â
You hear four clicks. A few grumbles. You feel Popeâs eyes burning into the back of your head.
You slam your foot on the gas.
-
Within about four minutes, the smell of burning rubber is making your eyes water. The flash of blue lights is making them burn. The feeling of your husbandâs eyes locked onto the back of your head is making your skin prickle.
âFucking - stop it!â You finally shout, whipping around another corner and risking two seconds of releasing the wheel in favor of putting your hand over his face. Itâs a childish move, sure, but the weight of his gaze is too heavy and youâre moving too fast to deal with it right now. He catches your hand, squeezes it once in an almost painfully instinctive way, and releases it just before you whip around another corner.
âJesus Christ! Where did you learn to drive like this?!â Deran shouts, hands braced on the backseat to keep himself steady and eyes blown wide as he looks at you like you just grew a second head.
âI donât know! Grand Theft Auto?â You try, and you sound a little more shrill than you would like to.
Craig is laughing. Jay is silent. You think Pope might have an aneurism.
âWall! Wall!â He suddenly shouts, and grabs at you like he might shield you from the inevitable crash.
You swerve out of the way with less than a second to spare, feel his arm locked around your chest from behind your seat, and giggle like an absolute lunatic.
This time, when he looks at you in the rearview mirror, you can barely read his expression. His eyes are wide, filled with panic and surprise, and you giggle again, the fear and adrenaline overflowing from you in what might be the worst form possible.
Yeah, heâs definitely gonna kill you.
-
The moment the car stops, Pope launches out of the back, and you know whatâs about to happen before he even makes it to your door.
âYou think heâs gonna kill me?â Craig asks, still grinning, still riding the same adrenaline high thatâs making your blood hum in your veins.
You look at him, and grin right back. âOh yeah. Youâre dead, dude.â
Your car door rips open, and Craig even reaches forward to unbuckle your seatbelt for you before Pope Cody lifts you right out of the fucking car.
He carries you around to the other side of the building like you weigh less than a paperweight, placing you on your feet in the alley and caging you against the brick wall. His eyes are burning into yours, so intense you can feel the weight of his gaze like a fucking anvil on your shoulders.
âI know youâre mad, but-â
To your surprise, he kisses you. He kisses you so hard that, if it werenât for his hand flying up to protect the back of your head, the force of it might slam you back against the wall hard enough to concuss you.
His body envelops yours. His hands slide over your cheeks to cradle your face in a way thatâs almost more possessive than adoring, lips moving against your own with a desperation that has your knees shaking.
âIâŠâ It is painfully difficult to think when his teeth are scraping over your lower lip, when his tongue is tracing the sting of it like itâs second nature. âMm, I thought you were mad.â
His hands skate down your body, wrapping around the backs of your thighs and lifting you against him so he can press you more tightly against the wall and kiss you even harder.
âFurious.â He growls, pulling back to brush his nose over the hollow of your throat. âIâm fucking furious.â
âYouâre sending some very mixed signals about it.â
His hips grind against yours, and he swallows your gasp of pleasure with another kiss. Itâs all tongues and teeth, like heâs trying to taste the lingering adrenaline on your tongue while still trying to cling to his anger that you were driving the car in the first place.
âIf Craig calls you on a job,â his hand is sliding up beneath your shirt, supporting you with one arm and still kissing you like youâre the only source of oxygen heâs ever tasted, âdonât fucking answer.â
âHe said it was an emergency.â
âI donât care.â
He hikes you up a little higher, hips grinding against yours, and cuts off your gasp with another rough kiss.
You smile against his lips, and his hands grip your thighs a little more tightly.
âI did good, though.â
He growls at that, pressing you tighter against the wall.
âI could have lost you.â
âBut I did good.â
He kisses you again, like heâs trying to change the subject, and you catch his chin to keep him in place.
Because you know damn well why youâre up against this wall, and it isnât just because he was worried about your safety. You can feel it in the quickness of his breath. In the tight grip on your thighs.
He likes to take care of you, but he knows youâre not delicate. Not breakable. And as protective as he can be, he fucking loves it.
âSay it.â You murmur, a smile still tugging on the corners of your lips. âI kicked ass.â
His eyes burn into yours, pushing forward to press his forehead against your own.
âYou didâŠâ oh, he doesnât want to say it. He doesnât want to encourage this, but he knows youâre right and he doesnât want to admit how much itâs turning him the fuck on, ââŠyou did good.â
âI kicked ass.â Your lips brush over his. His hands tighten even more on your body.
âDonât push it.â
You grin, and when you kiss him again he groans so low that you can feel it in your bones.
And he really might take you right there in the alley, if it werenât for Craig.
âYo, put your dick away for five minutes. We gotta get this shit packed up.â
You both turn your heads, both breathless, and whatever look Pope gives his brother has the larger man raising his hands in mock surrender.
âJust sayinâ, a public indecency charge isnât gonna make the rest of this shit look good.â
âCockblock.â You grumble.
âAdrenaline junkie.â He quips back, smile widening.
Your husband makes a frustrated noise, lowering you to your feet and pressing his nose into your temple in that odd affectionate way he has. You smile, turn your head to kiss cheek, and feel him brush his fingers over your waist one last time before he reluctantly pulls back.
As you walk with him back into the alley, Craig throws his arm over your shoulder, squeezing you hard enough to make you nearly stumble. âYou kicked ass.â
You laugh, and lean into his side as Pope turns to glare at him. âDo not encourage her.â
Craig ignores him. Squeezes your shoulders again. âWanna help load up the car?â
âWhatâs my cut?â
âAtta girl.â
And, though Pope doesnât turn around again, still emanating pure rage, you can see the corners of his lips twitch in the smallest hint of a smile.
Well, he may not have killed you, but youâre definitely in for it later, and youâre pretty confident you wonât be complaining.
And if Craig calls you on another jobâŠyou just might answer.
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