(nsfw) Cowboy!Clark who calls you his ‘little honeysuckle’ as a sweet, filthy nickname because the taste of your pussy reminds him of the delicate honeysuckle flowers that used to grow along the fence back home on the farm.
Every spring he’d lean over that fence and spend long, lazy minutes sipping the tiny droplets of nectar from the blooms, savoring their light, sugary sweetness on his tongue. Now he spends those same long, lazy minutes between your thighs, burying his face in your soaked cunt and pulling that same sweet nectar from you with slow, hungry licks and deep, greedy sucks—groaning like he’s found something even better than the flowers ever gave him.
He whispers it low and rough while he’s got your legs draped over his broad shoulders, voice muffled against your dripping folds: “Fuck, little honeysuckle… you’re drippin’ so sweet for me tonight.”
He growls it against your clit when he’s teasing you right to the edge, flicking his tongue just how you like it: “C’mon, honeysuckle, give me more of that sugar. Let me drink you up.”
And he rasps it like a prayer when he finally sinks his thick cock into you, forehead pressed to yours, hips rolling deep and steady: “That’s it, my little honeysuckle… soak my dick just like those pretty flowers soaked my tongue.”
He never lets you forget it—every time he eats your pussy, he’s chasing that same addictive, sun-warmed sweetness he remembers from home.
thinking david corenswet is hot is the most embarrassing reputation ruining annoying thing I could have done tbh like ohhh my god really? tall big muscles dark hair and blue eyes kind man is hot? god fucking really. are you fucking stupid I hate myself. oh you think superman is hot? fucking superman? groundbreaking type shit going on here oh my god he’s tall should we tell everyone he’s tall and his jaw is nice wow she thinks the attractive man is attractive. you and everyone else. is pizza your favorite food too. fuck you. everyone look at her she thinks SUPERMAN is hot boundaries are really being pushed over here should we get her a medal because she thinks Mr Smile is easy on the eyes. “hear me out” and it’s a fucking marching band. should we call people magazine. vanilla. I DISGUST myself. summer blockbuster. I should be killed
Thank you @punyparkerr for sparking my brief idea this morning. I answered @my-malachai-stilinski and edited it, and IT WENT AWAY. Glad I had it saved bc I was proud of coming up with this stuff on the fly?
Tags: 18+, MDNI, fluff and smut, p in v, creampie, semi-public sex, size kink, uniform kink, pet names (baby, hon, sweetheart)
main masterlist
Rugby!Clark is an Absolute Unit. 6'4"+ 240 lbs shoulders that barely fit through doorways, Sequoia Thick thighs. His ass in those shorts are RIDICULOUS. Fans lose their minds every time he squats to bind in the scrum.
Built the "The Gentle Giant" reputation. Has to constantly restrain himself. He knows one full-power shove and someone’s getting stretchered off with a career-ending injury and he would never be able to sleep at night. Always the first to help an opponent up after a tackle and the media eats it uppppp.
Despite his restraint he’s terrifying on the field. Runs as fast as a freight train. Boy got HOPS like he’s got springs in his boots. Opposing teams start aiming their throws away from him, they're freaked out like a man that size shouldn't be moving like this😭
Post-game: sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, jersey half-unzipped, still breathing heavy. So polite during interviews, sounding like, "Yeah, tough game. Just happy everyone did their best." Meanwhile he’s already searching the stands, thinking about getting home to you.
Writes a surprisingly thoughtful column or speech for the team about sportsmanship and mental health.
✨️SFW/NSFW BELOW✨️
Eats like a black hole. You and Ma learned to meal-prep in industrial quantities. He’ll demolish three plates and still look at you and the fridge with those big blue eyes like "erm...is there more?"
Grass stains everywhere, including those damn nice socks you bought him. You’ve gotten very good at rubbing those out and rubbing arnica into his shoulders, pressing ice packs on his back while he sits on the floor between your legs, head tipped back making those low happy noises. You both know he doesn't really need it, but you enjoy it anyways.
Loves when you come to games wearing his jersey, his name, his number. Bonus if its oversized and nothing underneath. He spots you in the stands and suddenly plays like a demon - c'mon, let's wrap it up! I want my girl now!
.
Post-match ritual: finds you in the tunnel or parking lot, lifts you clean off your feet in a BIG sweaty hug and a Take My Breath Away Kiss. Doesn’t care who’s watching. "Missed you," mumbled into your neck.
If they win big he’s a lil smug, cocky, and very handsy all the way home. If they lose he'll smile it off but its obvious he needs to feel you. All huffy and fidgeting. Needs the reminder that he’s good at something that day, like how he can take care of you.
Backyard "training." He’ll set up cones and make you do footwork drills with him, laughing when you trip over your own feet, but catches you before really falling.
Teaching you touch rugby in the backyard always guaranteed to turn filthy 90% of the time. You tackle him (you both know he’s letting you), straddling him for a few moments to watch you all winded and laughing, and then "accidentally" pins you under him in the grass.
Appreciates your enthusiasm to know the game properly. Sits you between his legs, arms around you, chin on your shoulder, explaining cleanouts and lineout calls in a low, patient voice that would sound condescending from any other man. You ask "dumb" questions on purpose, which he responds: "Great question! So this is why..."
Wears a tiny charm you gave him on a chain under his jersey during every game. Something small with your initials? Your birth stone? Touches it before lineouts for good luck.
.
Strength kink goes Insane. He can hold you up against the wall with one arm while the other yanks your clothes off. Fucks you standing without breaking a sweat. Loves when you wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders/biceps/his face begging for harder, faster, deeper, more, and he just walks you to the bedroom without pulling out.
Those Sequoia thighs. You riding one while he’s "recovering" on the couch after practice. Him watching you with dreamy eyes, big hands guiding your hips, praising you the whole time. "That’s it, sweetheart. Use me."
Uniform kink is reeeaaal. Missing Clark while he's on the road for away games, welcoming him back wearing his home game-worn jersey. Sleeves too long, hem covering your ass. He'd immediately dropped to his knees to eat you out while you’re still wearing it, moaning over and over how much he missed you. Or he'd have you on all fours in just the jersey while he fucks you from behind, gripping the fabric like reins. Always so quick with aftercare, sometimes you ask for him to leave it on you afterward, just to watch him watch his cum soak into the material.
Oh, post-game adrenaline is so lethal to your pussy. He’s in his uniform — muddy shorts, jersey rucked up — and he’s so so dirty and desperate. Gets you on the bed, or floor, or kitchen counter and just takes. Deep, grinding thrusts growling and groaning "gosh darlin', you feel so good every time" against your throat.
Size kink + stretch. He’s biiiig everywhere and he knows it. Loves watching you determined to take him, loves the little overwhelmed, stubborn noises you make while you try to stop your cunt from clenching around him. "Easy, hon… I’ve got you. Let me do the work."
Endurance for days. One round is never enough for either of you. He’ll fuck you through your first orgasm, keep going while you’re shaking and creaming on him, then flip you on top and start again. Only stops when you’re a boneless, whimpering mess and even then he’s still hard and kissing apologies into your skin.
Sin-bin punishment. If you’ve been teasing him all day, he’ll edge you for ages. "Yellow card behaviour, hon. Gotta sit this one out."
Messy creampie enjoyer. Especially after a win because the sight of you after is the real prize. Watching it drip out afterward, then pushing it back in with his meaty fingers and the tip of his cock because "can’t waste it"????
Shower sex after games/practice is non-negotiable. After the other guys have gone home, you're sneaking him back into the locker rooms. You're washing the mud and sweat off him under the hot water spray, praising him while you stroke his cock until he can no longer fight the urge to fuck you against the tiles.
Rugby!Clark is a handsy man right? So he'll have one hand over your mouth and his mouth sucking on your breast so the groundskeep doesn't hear how loud you two get.
pairing | wc: husband!Clark x wife!reader | 850
tags: 18+, MDNI, Smut, voyeurism!!!, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, brief mention of hyperspermia, creampie, time travel AU (Younger!Clark early 20's, older!Clark early/mid-30's), yearning!Clark
Just a lil thing. I want to expand this becauuuse I've underutilized time travel in my fics, and I'm thinking of…
main masterlist | Mrs. Kent Diaries
Inexperienced hero/College-age!Clark materializing in Metropolis at least a decade ahead, heart still hammering from whatever cosmic disaster flung him forward in time. His older self — steadier, broader shoulders, larger, powerfully built frame honed by years as this Superman — found him, brought him home.
Clark quietly observed the life he’d eventually build.
A simple gold ring glinted on his left hand. The walls were lined with bookshelves of literary novels, plays, CD's, and photos of his older Ma, Pa, strangers who would surely be important to him someday, and you.
The two of you laughing at a farmers’ market, you tucked under his arm at some party, and more surprisingly candid shots of stolen kisses and quiet mornings.
All signs of a shared life Clark had never let himself imagine with the person he loved most. You, his best friend.
The one whose laugh made every good day better, whose voice comforted him after every rough patrol, who teased him about his terrible coffee orders and still stayed up late studying with him anyway. The girl he’d been quietly, desperately in love with for years, too terrified to confess, convinced that saying it out loud would destroy the only thing that had ever felt like home.
Except in this timeline, nothing was destroyed. You weren’t just his, you were his. His partner. His wife. His everything.
After a long day of explanations, theories, and careful plans, the sun had finally set, and the apartment had settled into darkness. Both Clarks agreed it'd be best that the younger counterpart stayed away from future-you, using the barely-used guestroom as a temp hide-out.
All Clark wanted now was something cold to steady his still-shaking hands. A glass of water, maybe. Yeah. He’d be quiet. He’d be good. He'd go back to the guest room, sleep things off. Tomorrow, he’d figure out how to get back to his own time before he ruined anything.
On his way to the kitchen, he heard it: soft, helpless little whimpers drifting down the dark hallway.
Next, a low, rough timbre that was his and not his—older, steadier, full of years knowing himself, how to be a hero. Followed by the rhythmic, filthy creak of a bedframe laced with tender shushed words against soft, supple skin.
He should’ve stuck to the plan. Shouldn’t betray the trust of the man who’d taken him in.
Can he hear me? Clark wondered, pulse roaring so loudly he was sure his older counterpart’s superhearing would pick it up any second. Still, he drifted closer, hovering silently just above the floor, and peered around the corner into the shadowed bedroom.
And there you were, bare beneath his older self, legs spread wide around his hips, feet in the air, toes curled, one hand pinned gently above your head, the other flexed tight in raven curls, breasts bouncing with every thrust.
Clark’s cock throbbed painfully against the front of his borrowed sleep pants. He couldn’t look away. Couldn't hazard blinking. Every detail seared itself into his brain.
Older-Clark’s thick cock dragged out of your slick, clenching cunt slow and glistening, only to sink back in to the hilt with a wet sound that made Clark’s mouth go dry and palms twitch. Your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets, back bowing, and needy mewls spilling your kiss-swollen lips with every deep, unhurried stroke.
Affectionate praise was muttered against your ear—“That’s it, hon, let me feel her—there she is, just like that, go a lil tighter,”—growing filthier as your thighs started to shake as his hips rolled, changing the pressure just so, savoring how tight and wet you were around him. The big hand deep in your mound never stopped moving, thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless strokes that had your whole body trembling.
You moaned "Clark!" in that soft, sweet voice, the same one that greeted, teased, chided, comforted him, the same voice he fell asleep thinking about more nights than he could count.
"Clark, baby…" you begged again, breathy and desperate, pawing his counterpart's biceps and shoulders. "Gonna—gonna cum. Want—want you to fill me up soon. Please."
Geez! His cock jerked hard again, this time a hot pulse of pre-cum soaking the fabric as his knees nearly buckled. I’m supposed to stay away from her. I can’t be here. I can’t want this.
He was breathing through his nose now, long and deep, one fist against his chapped lips so he didn’t do something stupid like reach down and squeeze himself.
His older self didn’t miss a beat. He simply pressed his sweat-damp forehead to yours, dimples deepening as he kissed the corner of your gasping mouth, and picked up the pace. Harder, deeper, using that effortless strength to tilt your hips up a fraction until you came with a broken high-pitched moan.
"There we go. I’ve got you,” he promised, words warm and so full of steady affection that made Clark’s throat tighten. “You want me to fill her up, yeah? Gonna—gonna give it to you. Nice and deep, j-just like you asked.”
He came with a groan, stifling it with an open-mouthed kiss. Thick, heavy ropes of cum filled your cunt for several heartbeats, until it started to leak out around his cock with every shallow thrust. Your stomach clenched with every rock while excess cum dripped messily between your folds and onto the sheets.
I could be doing that to her. Clark’s stomach suddenly clenched with violent, helpless desire as he gazed at the tender aftercare. I could be the one loving her, make her sound like that, feel her around me.
Good gosh, I want it all.
So he memorized everything: the perfect angle of those deep thrusts, the exact pressure on your clit that made your thighs quake, the way your cunt visibly fluttered and clenched around that thick cock, the tender filth of every word his future self breathed against your sweat-lined skin.
Because when he made it back… if he ever stopped being a coward and told you how he felt…
Clark needed to know exactly how to love you like this.
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
