jordyn

just like squint past all the smut i repost xx

[troublepunk-ldn]

me as a teenager: man it sucks to have no privacy or autonomy but i guess its for a good reason. when i turn 18 i will realise how young i was and understand why they did all that.

me as an adult: teenagers are an oppressed class, their abuse is normalised and systemic and they need to start killing people

[depsidase]

[quaintpanic]

I WAS BORN YESTERDAY. I JUST BLEW IN FROM STUPID TOWN. THIS IS MY FIRST RODEO. PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME.

[naninenuny]

peter going viral for his trained stag who can do a backflip (the stag is james)

[b6rntosdiee]

[innorality]

aliendick!clark and pavlov conditioning

summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.

content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic

2k words whew

with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.

well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.

.

on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.

starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.

that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.

and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.

every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.

after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.

then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.

it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!

the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.

he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.

clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.

he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-

in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.

noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.

he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.

you think you could ascend.

you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."

curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.

his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.

he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.

because clark has never looked this feral.

his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.

"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.

the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.

.

how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.

and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.

he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.

he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.

despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.

a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.

you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.

he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.

in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.

your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.

with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.

well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.

your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.

"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.

he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.

a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"

"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."

clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.

a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.

a duck emoji.

taglist : @mina-do-malik, @chroniclesofdyingmen, @onlyblackorpheus, @lanavelvetgoldmine, @kaerimango

[otherluckywitnesses]

If only someone would do that to me…

🦆

[bambimunson]

ᰔ jerking virgin!eddie off. you’re behind him, frilly canopy cocooning you both as your fist experimentally stroked. he’s biting hard on his bottom lip with knitted brows.

your chin is a warm presence atop his shoulder. it isn’t exactly unwelcome, but it’s throwing his senses even more askew. he’s already embarrassed by how much he’s bucking into your warm touch so he attempts to keep his mouth zipped. you’re having none of it.

you squeeze just beneath the rosy tip on one specific upstroke which has a heavy breath coming out of his nose, eyes falling shut. it’s followed by a whimpering sound deep in his chest.

“there we go…” you murmur, nuzzling the spot behind his ear. “don’t gotta be so quiet.”

[kentluv3r]

horny texts with your MARVEL BOYFRIEND! [PETER, JOHNNY, BUCKY, STEVE]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 CONTENT WARNINGS: horny texts, flirting, multi-character, MINORS DNI ノ confident! fem! reader, jokes about sex, begging, pet names (including a mommy kink), promises of sex, dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of oral and anal sex!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i luv all these men, idc! i want all of them! also, if people want it enough, there will be a dc equivalent to this post (and possibly a marvel! fem! character version) because god i love making them!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BOYFRIEND! PETER PARKER… secret freak!

PETER PARKER; part time daily bugle photographer, part time wall crawler superhero… full time freak for his sexy girlfriend! he’s horny, he’s flirty, and he’s a pathetic mess for you all the time!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BOYFRIEND! JOHNNY STORM… romancing a player!

JOHNNY STORM; a manwhore with a dirty past, but you don’t mind! he’s a whore but once you give him a chance to prove his romance? he’s the best you’ve ever had! and the best part of dating a former-player? he has the dick to back it up!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BOYFRIEND! BUCKY BARNES… devotion to the bone!

BUCKY BARNES; a man with a dark past but a keen interest in romance, and you’re his test subject! he’s devotional and he’s always trying his best— he sometimes fucks up but he makes it up with the best orgasms ever!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 BOYFRIEND! STEVE ROGERS… innocent? nah. freak.

STEVE ROGERS; super solider turned avenger, he’s the romantic out of all romantics— always looking to up his previous date! and the fun fact about steven grant rogers? he may present as an innocent man, but he’s a super freak in the sheets!

masterlist is here! click here for more!

ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!

[depsidase]

[kindnessistherealpunkrock]

can't stop thinking about clark realizing you're pregnant before you even had a clue..... (1.8k words)

It's damn near midnight. You'd spent most of the day in bed, barely able to keep anything down. Maybe the flu can still be going around...in March? That's what you told yourself anyway. You'd promised Clark you'd go to the doctor in the morning if you weren't feeling any better.

The day had been uneventful. Your time was spent by nursing cups of broth and watching reruns of your favorite show - it was all you had the energy for yet you were still exhausted by the time Clark came home from work. He had tried to make you eat real food, but even the smell of butter burning slightly in the pan made your stomach flip and allowed the sickness to take over.

Clark had helped you into the bath after and opted to sit on the cold bathroom tile next to you. He missed you dearly, but more than anything wanted to make sure you were okay. He told you what you missed at work today. "Whole lotta nothin," he quipped, his hands moved to push the hair out of your eyes. He told you about the new article he'd gotten approved to write, that he saved a cat from a tree on the way home, that he saw a photo on Jimmy's phone that he really wished he hadn't. Clark sensed that his rambling soothed you, the energy surrounding you turned mellow and your heart rate slowed as he gently massaged your scalp with his fingers. You really were worn down, he thought. He wished more than anything that he knew how to make you feel better, but this would have to do.

That led you to now. In bed, on your side, eyelids growing heavy with one arm and leg draped over Clark's toned chest and legs. He was bare, save for a pair of tight fitting boxers. Any other day, you'd be all over him; begging for him to be all over you until you're a pile of mush in the sheets. But not tonight. Tonight, you just wanted him to hold you. Clark is a good boy, so he was doing just that with his large hand splayed across your back. His fingers occasionally running up and down your spine almost sank you into blissful sleep. That is, until...

Clark stiffened beneath you. It's like his entire body turned to concrete while his eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other. He heard something.

"What is it?" You ask, exhaustion and a hint of annoyance laced in your voice.

"Hear someone," Clark murmured.

He slid out from under you with ease and pulled some sweatpants over his legs. The spot he just left was still warm, but his absence made the bed suddently feel cold and sterile.

"You sure it wasn't just a bird, baby? They've been crashing into the windows like crazy for weeks now."

You're slightly perturbed, but you try not to be. He is Superman after all. His job is to keep the city safe, so you can't blame him for being attuned to hearing anything and everything that could possibly pose a threat. Plus, you knew he cared about your well being more than anything else in this world, so you chose not to push it any further.

Clark doesn't say anything else, only turning back to you with a finger over his lips, asking for silence as he investigates. He glides through the room tactfully and undetected, as if he were a lion hunting its prey. You watch as he pads down the hallway from your shared bedroom and disappears into the darkness that is the rest of your apartment.

He's gone for only a minute or two. When he comes back, you notice his hair is a bit windswept. He must have checked the outside of the building. You can't even imagine if someone had saw him. A half naked man with rock hard abs seemingly levitating outside the 17th floor of a Metropolis apartment building in the middle of the night. Although, it probably wouldn't have been the weirdest thing anyone has ever seen.

"Sorry," he apologizes, "Guess it was nothing."

Clark quickly discarded his sweats back onto the floor and nestled back into bed next to you, resuming the same position you were both in just minutes before. He runs his veiny hand over his face and rubs his eyes, an adorable yawn escaping his lips. Clark was tired too.

"It was probably just something happening on the street. They're still doing night construction across the street," you thought aloud.

"No, honey," he was quick to interject with a click of tongue, "It wasn't something; it was someone. I heard their..."

Clark froze again, ears perking up as he turned to fully face you. He suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. He looked like he wasn't breathing.

You were growing concerned with his sudden skittishness. "Everything oka-?"

"Heartbeat," he finally mustered up the strength to say out loud.

You're not making sense of what is unfolding in front of you. Clark is staring at you; his eyes felt like they were burning a hole into your soul. His gaze drifts about your body, as if he were checking you for injuries or trying to see if anything was different about you. You notice his eyes are lingering at your lower half, where your arm laid haphazardly across your stomach as you rested on your side. Your engagment ring glimmered in the low light of the lamp in the corner of the room, but that's not what Clark was really staring at.

"So, it was a person or no? I'm lost, bubby," you stated, begging him to make sense of this.

"I only heard the heartbeat when we were in bed earlier. 'S not outside or in any other part of the house. I think...." Clark's voice is shaky now. "I think you're pregnant?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

It was your turn to be speechless. Your eyebrows furled as you sat up straight. Either Clark was losing his mind or this was some kind of joke.

"Clark, what in the hell are you talking about?"

He's quiet again, only this time he shimmies down the plush mattress until his head is hovering right above your belly and facing away from you. It felt like the whole world stopped in that moment. What if it was true? Is this why you've felt so sick over the last few days? Gears are turning in your head trying to solve this puzzle. When Clark turns his head back towards you, the final piece locks into place.

"I hear it. It's quiet, but it's there. A heartbeat." Clark was smiling.

You reach a hand out to hold the side of his face that isn't pressed against your stomach. You don't know whether to cry, celebrate, or puke for the seventh time today. You run your thumb anxiously along his jawline.

"Holy shit," is all you can muster. "Is that even possible?" You really didn't know. Neither of you did. Sure, you've both pondered (and loved) the idea of mini Clarks and mini yous running around the farm in Kansas one day. However, you had never seriously considered whether or not a human could give birth to a half-Kryptonian.

"Guess so," Clark replies. "We can make some calls in the morning and try to find out."

He's moved back to the top of the bed now and his arms are enveloping you in an all-consuming embrace. His chin is tucked into your collarbone, his breath tickling your neck just slightly with each exhale.

"Are you happy?" He asks, begs, quietly. Your lack of enthusiasm has him growing weary.

You pull back to look at him fully. The dark, curly hair on top of his head, the prickly stubble on his cheeks that appears after a long day, the warmth radiating off his perfect body. You melt under his touch, along with any doubts you had in your mind. In front of you is a man who would literally go to the ends of the Earth (and beyond) to protect you. A man that lends a hand to anybody and anything that could possibly need his help. A man that loves you so deeply that he would know how to find you in any universe or lifetime.

"I think," tears prick at your eyes, "That I'm a little scared. And a little shocked."

Clark nods his head, listening. His jaw twitches slightly.

"That's okay," he tries to reassure you.

"I know." You swallowed hard. The tears were coming now. "But also still a little happy."

It's like a switch flipped, the two of you begin chuckling contagiously in disbelief. Clark thumbed the tears away from your cheeks and you kissed him deeply. He was warm and his tongue was soft, slipping through your mouth and running along your bottom lip.

"I love you so much," Clark says as he pulls back. There isn't a doubt in your mind of how much he means it.

"I love you too, Clark," you beamed, "But I can't believe you thought our baby was an alien intruder that came here to destroy humanity at midnight on a random Tuesday." A fake pout adorned your features.

Clark playfully flicked at your nose, unable to fight the laugh in his belly. "I thought you were sick?" He jested, "Now you have time to crack jokes?"

"Heyyy!" you protested, "Be nice to me. You have to now."

"'M always nice to you," Clark snided, feigning offense and planting a forgiving kiss to the top of your nose.

Neither of you remember when you both fell asleep. You talked until the sun almost began to rise. About what color hair you thought they'd have, what theme the nursery would be, what color their eyes would be. You wanted them to have Clark's, and of course, Clark wanted them to have your eyes. Agree to disagree Clark proclaimed, though he'd be happy even if the baby's eyes were purple. The baby, your baby, was a piece of the two of you and the love you shared so deeply with one another. And that was all that mattered to him.

You woke up turned away from Clark, morning light quickly taking over the bedroom. Your body was engulfed by his broad shoulders as he spooned you. His arm, as strong as it may be, was draped oh so carefully across your abdomen. Clark was already protecting the little one growing inside of you. And he always would.

[fear-is-truth]

clark, who perks up when you call his name the way dogs react to hearing the word walk. pleasantly startled, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed energy in a six-foot-something frame.

clark, who insists on carrying all the groceries. so now you just walk beside him, one arm looped through his, watching him play pack mule with unconcealed joy.

clark, who sits beside you at the fountain, tearing bread crusts into little hunks for the doves.

clark, who taps your knee when he spots a squirrel in the park. stops mid-step and whispers, “look, look,” with the same excitement of one pointing out a comet—never mind it’s just a rodent with a peanut.

clark, who sets his lockscreen to a selfie of you both. candid, taken mid-laugh. your head resting against his shoulder, his smile half-formed, cheek pressed into your temple. he carries a printed copy in his wallet, too.

clark, who texts you pictures he’s taken. things that remind him of you, or things he knows you’d like. a cat loaf in a patch of sunlight, a diner chalkboard advertising your favourite pie, or a silly meme he figured you’d laugh at.

clark, who always ends up the big spoon, no matter how you start. even if you fall asleep facing him, curled into his chest. by morning, you’ll wake up with his arm around your waist.

clark, who really knows how to cook. real food, too—not just bachelor chow reheated in a pan. i’m talking soups from scratch or stews that simmer for hours. he doesn’t let you lift a finger unless it’s to taste-test something off the spoon.

clark, who hums commercial jingles around the apartment while doing chores, such as lifting the entire couch (with you still on it) so he can vacuum underneath.

clark, who carries you bridal-style to bed.

clark, who packs little sandwiches in wax paper when you work late. your name written in block letters across the front.

clark, who leaves post-it notes behind cabinets, in the pockets of your jackets. blue ink scrawled sideways. “i love you,” “you looked really pretty this morning.”

[kryptoclark]

have you ever tried this one?

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

summary: standing ovulation, or whatever they say. (or, in other words, you want clark to fuck a baby into you)

wc: 4.2k

genre/tags: husband!clark, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, smut, p w/lil plot, no protection is used (the fic is based off juno by sabrina carpenter....we're talking babies here), feral!clark, breeding kink, slight praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, dry humping/grinding, making out, big dick!clark ofc

notes from auddie: in celebration of sab's album coming out tn, have this fic inspired by one of my fav songs hehe. this is a little break from my super long beast plot-driven fics and was super fun to write! ...and i need clark as my husband stat.

you don't mean to be staring, but how could you not?

clark's standing at the dresser across from your shared bed, back turned to you, pulling off his shirt – slow and casual, as if he doesn't know what he's doing to you.

he's talking about something mundane – leads at work he wants to pursue, perry's latest rant, jimmy's recent fling – but you can't hear a word of it.

all you see are the deep lines of his back muscles, the slope of his shoulders, the way his biceps flex when he drags the fabric over his head.

he tosses the shirt into the hamper in the corner of your bedroom and finally turns to you, probably to ask why you haven't given any input in the time he's been speaking. it's an odd occurrence, being that he's usually the listener between the two of you.

you feel your pulse spike when his hands move to the buckle of his leather belt, skillfully pulling the material from the loops of his slacks.

"am i boring you?" clark asks, quirking a brow upward at your silence.

it takes a minute for his words to register in your brain, slowly blinking back to his attention, humming absently, "hm?"

his eyes narrow slightly and you can read his expression. he's using his damn super vision to determine if anything was biologically wrong with you. therefore, he'll be quick to know that–

"you're staring," he says, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"no, i'm not," you lie. plain as day.

clark's brow lifts, playing along. "no? you've said nothing for two whole minutes."

"i'm allowed to enjoy the view in my own home," you shoot back, tone pitched too high. too innocent. or, at least, a poor attempt at sounding innocent.

clark chuckles, walking closer to the foot of the bed. he still hasn't bothered to put on a shirt – he knows exactly what he does to you. "you, mrs. kent, are insatiable," he murmurs.

"excuse me," you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant but you know the pounding of your heart betrays you. "you're the one walking around looking like that. shirtless. muscles out. like i'm not supposed to be drooling."

"you're married to me," he reminds you, all calm, climbing up onto the bed. "you've seen it a thousand times."

"and it never gets less rude."

he laughs again and then he leans in to kiss you.

it's supposed to be a sweet kiss to your lips, but the second his mouth brushes yours, you surge forward, grabbing his jaw and pulling him closer.

and clark, the most attentive lover there can be, adapts to your eagerness, allowing you to guide him to lean back against the headboard.

"baby," he murmurs against your lips when you climb into his lap.

"you're literally obscene," you mumble, trailing kissing along his jaw and down his neck. "looking like that everyday," you add, grounding your hips against his lap, already feeling the stirring within his slacks.

clark groans, soft and choked, as his grip tightens around your hips, instinctively squeezing the flesh there. "i was just trying to talk to you about work," he manages, his voice raspier now.

"you can tell me after," you breathe, "i need you right now."

clark kisses you like he's trying to be patient, but you feel the way his hands grip tighter, his breathing grows heavier, like he's holding back because he knows what happens when he doesn't.

and honestly, you're waiting for that patience to snap.

you grind down once in his lap, just to test him. just to see.

he groans, low and rough like you lit a match in his chest.

"jesus, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your hips to still you. "what's gotten into you tonight?"

"you," you breathe, rocking once more to make sure he feels your neediness. "just you."

he huffs a laugh, though it comes out strained, like he's working harder than usual to keep his composure. "just me, huh?"

"always you," you whisper, eyes wide and desperate when they meet his. "but-" you bite your lip, hesitant for only a moment before it all rushes out. "i don't know, clark. lately it's like i can't think about anything else. you, your hands, your mouth... the way you feel inside me."

he stills beneath you, chest rising in a deeper breath as his blue eyes search your face. whatever he finds there – probably sheer desperation – makes his jaw tighten, something tender sparking behind his gaze.

"sweetheart..." his thumb brushes your cheek, his voice low, coaxing. "you've been wound up all day, haven't you?"

heat flares in your chest, down to your stomach, pooling between your thighs. you nod, breath shuddering. "it's worse than usual. i-" your voice breaks as you cling tighter to his shoulders, confessing in a rush, "i keep thinking about... about babies. about you giving me one."

it's true that you'd been thinking about this for a while now. it's only natural, after all! you and clark have been married for two years now, building a home, creating a rhythm that feels so solid it sometimes makes your chest ache with how much you love and adore him.

lately, though, it's been impossible to ignore the way your friends keep announcing pregnancies, showing off ultrasound pictures, or casually dropping that they're "trying." each time, a flicker of longing sparks in your chest – one you usually try to dismiss as typical baby fever. until times like this. when it roars up and consumes you whole when clark is right there in front of you, or in this case, beneath you.

maybe its hormones, maybe its timing – hell, you know you'er ovulating right now, your body practically begging for it – but it doesn't feel shallow. it feels like a need. deep, bone-deep need. and clark is the center of all of it: the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way you know without a doubt he'd be the most incredible father.

and now, you can't stop fantasizing the face of a child with his matching smile. maybe his deep ocean eyes, if you're lucky.

your words hang in the air, hot and heavier than anything you've ever blurted mid-makeout. but clark doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away. if anything, his expression softens, though his body underneath you goes taut with a different kind of tension.

"baby..." he breathes, this time not in playful endearment toward you but as if the word itself is sacred on his tongue with its other meaning. his hands steady on your hips, grounding you, even as you feel him hardening beneath you. "is that what you want? really?"

your answer is a quiet, desperate "yes," before you can think better of it. "i've been thinking about it for weeks... months even. all our friends, pregnant or trying... it just- clark, it makes me realize how much i want that with you. with our family. i already know you'd be a great father."

his gaze melts, a mixture of awe and something more primal flickering under his long lashes. "yeah, sweetheart? months?" he murmurs, almost to himself. then he swallows hard, voice dropping to a husky growl. "'ve thought it about it, too. more than i probably should."

you suck in a short breath, brows raising at the lowness of his tone and his words. "you have?"

he hums in confirmation, the sound bubbling in his throat. "yeah," he rasps. his hands, once firm on your hips, glide to your belly, fingers dancing over the fabric of your t-shirt. "thought about you swelled up in here," he murmurs, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to gently caress the skin there.

you shiver at his touch, hips pressing involuntarily into his lap. "clark..." your voice cracks, low and needy, betraying just how much this is all affecting you. your mind is already muddled with a lust-filled haze from ovulation and his words aren't making it any better. the warmth of his hands against your stomach, the idea of him imagining you like this, it makes you ache.

he leans down, brushing his lips over your collarbone, just above the collar of your shirt. each of his kisses are deliberate, teasing. "you want me to make you a mommy?" he murmurs, low against your skin.

his gaze is heated, the grip of your waist nearly bruising from the sheer amount of restraint he's holding inside. he's truly so considerate, gentle in the way he always holds you, despite holding the amount of strength that can easily harm you. but he never does.

to this day, you wonder how he manages it – how someone with the power to move mountains can touch you like you're the most fragile thing in the universe.

but tonight, there's a crack in his usual control, and you can feel it in the way his dingers dig deeper into your waist, the way his breath comes ragged against your collarbone.

he lifts his head and his eyes flicker down to your lips, and then your stomach. you can read his mind clear as day behind his eyes. he's picturing it. you. swollen with his baby, carrying his family. it's as if the image makes something primal twist inside him – and you, too – and when his gaze meets yours again, it's darker. hungrier.

"sweetheart..." his voice is a rasp, reverent and rough at the same time. "i'm trying... trying to be careful." his words are emphasized by the way his hands glides up and down your sides, perhaps in a way that prevents him from squeezing you too roughly.

you cup his jaw, forcing him to look at you, grounding him as much as you're urging him on. "you don't have to be careful," you whisper, lips barely grazing his as you speak. "not tonight."

he exhales sharply with a slight groan. his grip tightens, dragging you flush against him until you can feel the full length of his cock straining between you.

"i need you, clark," you insistent, desperation clear in your tone as you rock against him. "i want all of you. everything. no protection."

your words are basically gas to the fire already brewing simmering within him. his head dips, lips crashing against yours, the kiss much rougher now, full of teeth and need. his hands roam with more urgency, no longer holding back as he palms your ass, dragging you against him.

the kiss grows messy, your breaths tangling together and his tongue hot and insistent against yours. he groans deep in his chest when you grind down against him harder and then, all of a sudden, you're no longer in his lap.

with one fluid motion, clark flips you on your back, the mattress dipping under his weight as he cages you in. your gasp breaks the kiss, but his mouth is persistent, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and throat.

"clark–" you manage, breathless and clutching his shoulders.

"sorry, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin, his voice raw. his hands slide beneath your shirt, dragging it upward to your neck, palms warm as they roam up your stomach, ribs, cupping your breasts. "needed you spread out f'me... needed to see you."

he groans as his hands shower attention to your breasts. his thumbs graze your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. "so pretty," he murmurs, reverent as he rolls the hardened peaks between his thumbs and forefingers. "these'll get so big," he adds, groaning to himself as if imagining it – the growth your breasts will have all to do with the eventual pregnancy hormones.

your breath hitches at the idea, arching into his touch as a shiver runs down your spine. "yeah," you agree with a whisper, nodding.

his lips brush against the curve of one breast, feather-light at first, then harder, trailing wet and teasing kisses down to your nipple. he groans against your skin as he swirls his tongue around the pebble, flicking it with practiced precision, all while keeping his gaze locked on yours.

you whine when he gets rougher, biting and nipping at your breast with more fervor, the sharp pleasure making your fingers tangle in his curls.

"so, so perfect," he says, lips leaving a wet trail of saliva down your chest to circle the other nipple with his tongue with equal reverence. his thumb rolls the previous peak, puffy and wet from stimulation.

you writhe beneath him, the need too much between your thighs. you're sure you're soaked through your panties and pants and it's taking all of you to not rip them off yourself. "clark," you whine impatiently, hips bucking upward against the bulge in his slacks.

"alright, alright," he murmurs, his voice bordering a deep growl. his hands drift from your breasts, gliding down your bare sides, sending shivers down your spine, until they reach the waistband of your leggings. with a quick force, he tugs the material down your thighs and calves, pulling them off your feet and tossing it behind him.

in the meantime, you tug the rest of your shirt up above your head and toss it aside.

he growls low in his throat as he slides his hands up the bare skin of your thighs, reaching the apex. one hand dips between your thighs, making contact with the heat of your core through your panties.

his fingers press lightly at first, teasing over the soaked fabric with slow, deliberate strokes. the friction has you gasping and arching, hips lifting into his hand.

he hums, low and rough as he presses harder, the pad of his finger pushing right against your clit through the cotton of your panties. "oh, sweetheart. you're absolutely drenched," he growls, fingers finally tugging aside the material to expose your core to the air. "all dripping for me already... just thinking about carrying my baby, and you're soaking like this for me?"

you moan, the sound raw and needy as you nod, fingers clutching the sheets as he begins teasing you, brushing over your clit with precise, yet slowly agonizing strokes. "mhm, 'm so wet, clark. i want more," you beg, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

he hums in acknowledgment, but even you can tell his patience is fraying. he makes quick movement in tugging your panties down your thighs, also discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him.

with massive hands, he spreads your legs apart, watching as you core clenches around nothing. his hand returns back to your heat, gathering some of your slick with a drag of his hand.

his fingers slide inside you just enough to tease, pressing against your folds while he drags the pad of his thumb over your clit again and again. each motion is deliberate, savoring your wetness. "don't think 've ever felt you this wet before," he muses, voice a mixture of awe and desire. "feel like i could slide right in without prepping you."

"you can!" you're quick to point out, hips twitching eagerly.

you hear him chuckle lowly before dipping a finger past your entrance. "maybe, but that wouldn't make me a gentleman, would it?"

you whine, arching your back restlessly, fingers clutching the sheets. "please... don't tease me. i'm ready," you insist. "want all of you. now."

his laugh is low, vibrating through your as he leans down, lips brushing against your in a fleeting kiss. "my insatiable wife," he murmurs, teeth grazing your lower lip. "so eager..."

you can't help but whimper, nodding when he leans back to look at you. your eyes round with pure want, and your teeth trap your bottom lip.

"who am i to deny my wife when she's asking – begging me to put a baby in her?" he asks rhetorically, leaning back to finally unbutton his slacks. it's a shock how he'd managed to keep his pants on this long with the way his cock is straining against the slim fabric.

he slides his slacks down, freeing himself at last. the head of his cock glints in the dim light of your bedroom, twitching with need, and you breath hitches.

"all this time..." he rasps, voice rough and low as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself lazily. "always careful... condoms, always... and now, i get to have you raw."

you gasp as he leans forward, sliding his fat cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. he groans, biting his lower lip as he lines himself up with your welcoming center.

you nearly choke on a moan a the swollen head nudges against your entrance, the sensation sending a shockwave through you without that thin barrier you've alway had between you.

your thighs fall apart even more – if that's even possible – welcoming him in, your hands reaching up to clutch at his broad shoulders.

with a low guttural groan, he sinks the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you inch by inch. the burn is immediate, overwhelming, but so is the delicious flow of pleasure seeping into you at the feeling of him bare inside you for the very first time.

"oh my," he whines, feeling your heat engulf him in a way he never felt before.

your mouth falls open on a broken moan, nails digging into his shoulders and carving crescents into his skin. every inch feels different, raw and unfiltered, his skin dragging against yours with no barrier between you.

clark shudders above you, arms trembling as he braces himself. "sweetheart..." he breathes, almost reverent, forehead pressed to yours. "you're... wow, you're squeezing me so tight. feels like i'm inside you for the first time all over again."

his voice trembles and your walls flutter at his words, clenching around the thick intrusion as your body adjusts.

he groans low, jaw tight, and you can tell he's fighting the urge to slam the rest of the way inside you.

"clark–" you gasp, voice shaking beneath him. "it's so – ah– s'much!"

"i know, i know, baby." he peppers kisses across your cheeks, the corner of your mouth, your jaw, his hips rocking into you just enough to sink another inch inside you. "just breathe, sweetheart."

the stretch makes your thighs quake, toes curling into the sheets as he pushes deeper, inch by inch. when he finally bottoms out, your whimper turns into a cry, arms winding tight around his neck and pulling him closer to you.

your whines have barely has the chance to fade before clark pulls back, his hips grinding slowly, savoring every bare inch of you.

but, through bleary eyes, you notice something shift within him. something in his face changes; his pupils blown wide, lips parted, breath ragged as if your heat alone snapped some final tether insied you.

"gosh," he groans, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in to the hilt, making the headboard slam against the wall. your cry is loud, broken and desperate, and it only spurs him on. "you're... jesus... you'll take every drop i give you, yeah?"

your nails rake down his back, but the words are stolen from your throat when he suddenly hooks your knees, folding you in half with shocking ease. your thighs press against your chest, body bent open beneath him and you're utterly helpless under the strength of his body.

"clark-!" you gasp, eyes flying wide at the intensity of the position.

"mating press," he rasps, rutting into you hard enough to make the mattress squeal beneath your bodies. "that's what you want, isn't it? me breeding you like this?"

the sound you let out is more a sob than a moan and his grin is feral, sweat dripping down his temples as his hips piston into you, faster, deeper, filling you to the brink every time. the slap of skin against skin fills the room as he finds his rhythm, mingling with your cries and his low growls.

"you're gonna get so full of me... my seed inside you, making you a mom... your belly all swollen. oh, you'll be such a good mom," he rambles between grunts, pushing his cock back and forth into your core.

every thrust drags his cock deeper against your sweet spot inside you, your gummy walls fluttering around him, tightening as though your body is begging to be thoroughly bred.

"i'll take of you so well. y'wouldn't lift a finger at all. leave it to me," he continues, lost in his own words, no doubt playing the image of you both with your little family of your own.

your cries break into a scream – your poor neighbors – when his thrusts turn brutal, his cock slamming into you with single-minded desperation. the angle, the force, the sheer intensity of him above you has your body spiraling too fast to keep up.

"clark– wait! 'm going to-"

"cum for me," he grits out, voice rough. "want you to cum 'round my cock for the first time."

the command tears through you, and you tip over the edge, cleching down around him so hard he chokes on a moan. your release gushes hot against his cock, coating him as you tremble beneath him.

"atta girl, sweetheart. you're doin' so well," he pants, his pace going erratic as he chases his own high. "you were made to be bred by me," he rasps.

when you clamp down again against him, your pussy quivering from the stimulation, his hips stutter.

he gasps, slamming himself all the way to the hilt, holding you down in the mating press as his cock pulses deep inside you. the first hot spill makes you moan, the sensation unlike anything before – thick, raw, flooding you in heavy spurts that seems endless.

clark's head tips back with a low moan as he ruts through it, fucking his cum as deep as he can push it. "take it," he pants, breath shuddering. "take every drop, baby. don't waste a single bit."

you whine at the stretch of him, and you feel the sticky warmth that leaks out around his length, only for him to push it back inside you with another sharp thrust.

he stays locked inside you, while he catches his breath, still holding your thighs up. when he looks back down at you, he's met with your fucked-out expression: lashes fluttering, eyes glazed over with unshed tears, and flushed cheeks.

he lets go of your thighs and gently hoists them back down on the bed, making you hiss from the soreness. one of his hands reach up to cradle your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "was i too hard, sweetheart? 'm sorry."

you shake your head firmly, despite your desirousness. "no, you were perfect," you croon softly, your chest heaving as you catch your bearings.

"you took me so well," he murmurs, voice reverent. "so good f'me," he praises.

you reel from the praise, a soft smile lifting your cheeks. you feel his cock twitch inside you, still half-hard within your walls. as if remembering what this was all about, you glance down at your stomach, noting the belly bulge you sport from his cock nestled deep inside you. you hum softly, reaching to pat your belly.

"we're going to be parents," you coo warmly, glowing at the image of you cradling a little baby in your arms.

"yeah," he agrees, his voice a low rasp. with a cheeky grin, he adds, "as long as my seed takes, that is."

you chuckle softly. "given how much you cum, i'd be surprised if it didn't."

he laughs lowly, leaning down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss, one that's much less rough than the prior ones you shared in the past half hour.

when he leans back, you feel his hands rub up and down the skin of your thighs, gently soothing the aching muscles. "we can never be too sure," he rumbles smoothly, eyes glinting mischievously.

i have a feeling i'm not leaving this bed anytime soon.

"not if i can help it," he murmurs. you hadn't realized you said your thought out loud.

he spreads your thighs out, glancing at the your shared juices coating and gathered at the base of his cock. "think you could go a few more rounds, sweetheart?"

despite your exhaustion, your gaze hardens, more determined than anything. "i said i wanted a baby, didn't i?"

clark grins, slow and boyish, leaning back on his knees, letting his gaze rake over you like he's re-memorizing every curve, every line, every inch of your spent body.

then, you notice it – the way his gaze drifts down and stays there, locked on your navel. your stomach tenses instinctively.

"oh my god," you gasp, eyes widening in realization. "don't tell me you're using your x-ray vision to see through me right now."

he smirks, utterly shameless. "gotta make sure i made it into your womb," he murmurs. his casual confidence makes your already trembling knees go weaker.

you laugh breathlessly, a mixture of disbelief and want, and you press your palms against his chest. "clark kent, you are so full of yourself."

"only when it comes to my wife, mrs. kent," he counter, leaning down to nip at your jaw, fingers tracing lazy circles over your belly again. "ready for round two?"

you swallow, heat pooling between your thighs again despite you fatigue, and nod eagerly. "always," you whisper, voice soft but steady.

"good," he rasps, rolling his hips enough to make your breath hitch. "because i'm not stopping until you're stuffed full of me, sweetheart."

ʚĭɞ reblogs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

[gayvampyr]

it really pisses me off when adults sit there and drill it into kids’ heads that their youth is fleeting and tell them things like “enjoy your childhood while it lasts because this is the best it’s gonna get”. why are you telling children that adulthood is the worst thing they can experience? seriously what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you trying to make them feel like growing up is a fate worse than death? trying to convince them their life is over before it even begins? i’m tired of that shit. because tell my why my 12 year old cousin told me when she turns 30 she’ll be so depressed she’s just gonna cry all the time. what the fuck. kids don’t need to hear that their already stressful and overwhelming lives are never going to get better, that the abuse and lack of autonomy they face is apparently the highlight of their lives. they need to hear about adults who are happy to be alive and happy to have made it to their age. they need to know that growing up rules, it’s a gift and life does not have to suck for them, that they have a future that’s worth sticking around for. this rhetoric is so damaging mentally and i’m about to start hitting the adults who parrot it. i’m sorry you hate your life but you don’t get to dump your issues on these kids. don’t piss me off and leave these babies alone!

[bettyvick]

big problem

clark who has a really big dick x reader

warnings: sexual explicit content, penetration (f receiving), implicit oral (f receiving), implicit fingering (f receiving), clark has a huge dih, f!reader, size kink, mention of bellybulge, praising.

author's note: i promise i'm not always horny lmaoooo.

more of big dick!clark

Clark hadn't realized how big he was. He'd been told so, several times.

Of course, as a teenager, after playing soccer, he'd go to the locker room to change, and some of his teammates would stare at him, their mouths agape. He'd blush in embarrassment and always try to cover himself or hide in the corner of the shower so no one would see him.

—Dude, that's…— his old best friend from high school said, looking at his enormous member sliding down his thigh. There weren't even words to describe it.

Finding condoms his size was a pain and a headache. They were all too small, the latex cut off his circulation, and his balls turned blue from the lack of blood. He tried every possible position, but he simply wouldn't fit or would break at the slightest movement.

Clark knew he was big, but hadn't actually assimilated it.

It wasn't until he met you.

He filled the entire bed with just his body.

But he got a reality check during your first time, when he pulled his cock out of his boxers and it poked up to your belly. You gasped in surprise, your eyes bulging.

That wasn't normal; it was out of this world. Monstrous; with a thick, prominent vein surrounding the shaft, pumping with excitement, and the red tip oozing precum.

—Clark…

—It's okay, baby, don't worry, I'll make it fit, I promise— he murmured rubbing your clit furiously. He spent the next half hour just preparing you because you never seemed elastic enough. He was afraid of breaking you in half and hurting you.

—That's enough, Clark, just put it in, please— you begged, overstimulated. He used everything he had: mouth, fingers, both at once...

But when he started to sink in, all his work fell apart. You gripped the sheets with white knuckles, your mouth open in an 'o' shape. His name left your lips like a plea, begging for some mercy. But that's just how he was.

—Oh my God— you moaned as he slowly entered your wet pussy. Your soft walls contracted around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed.

—If you keep squeezing me like that, I'm going to cum, love— he warned, and he wasn't even halfway there.

He lifted your legs over his shoulders, achieving a better angle.

—That's it, that's it, that's it...

By the time he bottomed out, your eyes had rolled to the back of your head and his balls bounced against your inner thigh.

It stung, tears pricked your eyes. But eventually it turned to pleasure, a pleasure so overwhelming it made you tremble against his body.

Clark was ecstatic; he'd never managed to bury himself completely inside you. There was a bulge in your belly he kept his eyes on, unable to move.

—What a small pussy, my god, you're taking me so well, my love— he waited, letting you get used to his size. But you didn't think that would ever be possible.

—It's too much— you blurted, feeling outrageously full. He kissed your forehead.

—I know, let me reward you.

He held you, wrapping your arms around his biceps and began to thrust slowly and painfully. Thrust after thrust left you disoriented. Your vision grew blurrier and your moaning grew louder. Although more than moans, they were whimpers of pleasure.

It was the best fuck you'd ever had.

But without a doubt, the final reality check came when he saw you limping into the Daily Planet. Everyone in the office seemed worried about you, and you had to lie. But with every excuse, your eyes were fixed on Clark across the room, watching you with a satisfied smile.

[istillwishforyouateleveneleven]

Regulus: I was wondering about date night tonight. Do you want to stay in? Cause you know what that means.

James: Romantic dinner and reading books together?

Regulus: Sex on the couch.

James: Or your thing.

Regulus: Actually reading together sounds great.

James: Or your thing.

[serpentstones-blog1]

i literally cannot convey how long i fucking laughed after i realized that boobytrap backwards is partyboob

[serpentstones-blog1]

i really hope that this does not end up being the text post that defines my entire tumblr career

[faepoetry]

clark kent being very clingy and stubborn in the morning tw: literally none, this is just fluffy. pairings: husband!clark kent x female reader. author's note: this was a request!

The rain was a steady sound against the windows as it pitter-pattered against the glass. You had just woken up and you were cuddled up under the covers, Clark's strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You could hardly move with him laying on top of you like this.

You attempted to try and uncurl his arms from your waist but, the moment you moved an inch, a low groan vibrated against your neck. His arms that were currently wrapped around your waist tightened even more. He never used his super strength on you but the sheer size of him was enough to securely pin you to the mattress.

"Where are you going?" He murmured, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He didn't open his eyes or look up at you, instead he nuzzled his face further into your neck, his breath warm against your soft skin.

"Clark, the alarm went off ten minutes ago." You said with a soft chuckle as you ran your fingers through his dark, messy hair. "You need to get up. Don't you have a deadline at The Daily Planet?"

"I don't care." He mumbled, his nose lightly nudging your collarbone as he pulled you impossibly closer to himself. At this point there wasn't even an inch of space between the two of you. "Perry can survive without me. He can fire me for all I care, as long as I can stay here with you."

"Honey, I have to go to work too y'know. I'd love to stay in bed all day with you and cuddle, but we have lives to live. Bills to pay." You chuckled.

"You can't leave." Clark said, finally lifting his head to look at you. "Do you hear that?" He asked as he gestured to the window with a nod of his head. "It's pouring outside. You can't go out there in that. Stay here with me where it's warm and dry." He said as he nuzzled his face into your neck once again.

"I'm not made of sugar. I'm not going to melt." You laughed.

"You aren't? But you're so sweet." He said softly as he planted a soft kiss against your neck.

"Okay, that was really corny." You said but you couldn't fight the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips. You continued to threat your fingers through his curls. "You know we can't stay in though. Unfortunately that's not how life works for us."

"Well it could work like that today." He insisted and you could hear a small pout in his voice. He shimmied up your body a little more as he rested his head on your shoulder, his blue eyes flicking up to you. "Please? Stay with me a little longer. Just five more minutes."

You let out a sigh that had no real heat behind it as you smiled more. "Fine. Only five minutes though. After that we have to get up, understood?"

He nodded eagerly and kissed your shoulder. "Understood. Five minutes."

You laid there with him, your fingers playing with his hair as he clung onto you like a koala. Right now Clark wasn't the man of steel or Metropolis's savior, he was just a stubborn and clingy man that wanted nothing more than to just hold you for as long as he could.

©faepoetry please do not steal, copy, repost, reuse, or translate my work.

❀ end note: i love this man omg 😭

❀ clark kent masterlist | main masterlist

❀ if you liked this fic then i would really appreciate it if you liked, or commented, or reblog it! thanks for reading! ❀