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Big Dick Energy

Superman x reader

Summary: What happens when Superman responds to your 3AM thirst tweets

Warnings: sexting, flirting hehe, cybersex/phone sex, masturbation, descriptions of cunnilingus

a/n: I lowkey have midterms in a few weeks so i'm trying to post the few drafts that I have and get ready to kinktober lol. also I have a new series i'm working on but I gotta finish Super! first even tho I don't know how to end it lmaoo

It’s well past midnight when you realize your cheek has gone numb from pressing the phone to your ear for so long.

“…I’m just saying,” your best friend slurs on the other end, half asleep and completely unserious. “He has to know what he’s doing, wearing that suit.”

You grin, rolling back onto your bed. The only light in your room is the soft glow of your laptop and fairy lights strung across the ceiling. There’s zoomed in, paused footage from Superman’s last public appearance on your computer screen. He’s hovering over the smoking ruins of a half collapsed bridge, cape whipping behind him in the wind.

“I knew you were going to bring up the suit,” you giggle, picking at a stray thread on your comforter to keep your hands busy. “It does look… different”

“Tighter,” she sighs dramatically. “Like maybe his PR people or whoever fixed it up after that last big fight. Like, ‘Hey, while we’re reinforcing the heat resistance, let’s really accentuate the assets’.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You think superman has a marketing department?”

“Babe, if I looked like that, id have a marketing department too.”

That breaks you both into quiet laughter. The kind thats muffled, but delirious gigging that only happens at ungodly hours. Hunched over and clutching your stomach when you’re too tired to be reasonable.

The two of you die down, then she yawns so loudly you flinch.

“God, okay, it’s like three. I need to sleep. We can thirst over supershit more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. Night,” you whisper, fending off your own yawn.

“Night, nerd.”

The line clicks, and the screen flashes with her profile picture. A photo you took when you both saw superman in public. Her eyes are wide as her hand is clasped over her mouth, while superman stands a couple feet behind her talking to a news reporter. It blinks a few times before fading black.

You lie there for a moment, staring at the slow swirl of your ceiling fan. Then, with a groan, you reach for your phone.

Your favorite social media app glows up at you. the familiar blue bird of twitter. Your notifications are flooded as usual. People tagging you in new fan art, retweeting your latest deep dive thread about kryptonian biology, arguing in your replied about whether superman is a good kisser. He would, obviously.

You scroll for a while, half zoned out, until an image of earlier pops back into your head. His broad chest, clearly outlined, that skintight blue fabric clinging to his carved muscles like it’s painted on.

And before you could stop and think about it, your thumbs are flying across the keys.

Do y’all think superman’s proportions are consistent? asking for science

You hit post.

And then stare at in mild horror. Heart hammering as the likes begin to roll in

“God” you groan loudly, tossing the phone onto your pillow. “I need sleep.”

But you don’t.

You close your eyes and roll over, counting down in your head to at least try and fall asleep.

But a few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a new notification, sounding different this time.

You roll over and squint at the screen through the darkness.

And freeze.

@ Superman Proportionate in all the ways that matter.

What the fuck?

You nearly flatline.

There’s barely a half second of pure silence in your head before the noise hits. Your brain screams at you, and your blood starts rushing. Your soul is attempting to leave your body.

Your hands fly to the sides of your phone, swiping up and panicking as Face ID struggles to work in the dark.

“FUCKING LOAD” you shout at the phone.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, its gone.

Deleted.

Vanished like it was never there.

You blink, mouth open. Then, pure instinct, you start clicking every button and screenshot the notification

Your cat, who’s been asleep at the foot of the bed the whole time, lifts his head and looks over at you. Get a grip, loser.

You gasp and your throat goes dry and your hands start shaking. Your notifications are exploding as people notice something happened. A few of your follows are replying things like, “did anyone else see that??” And “did superman just reply to her??”

You clutch your phone to your chest and whisper, “there’s no fucking way. There’s no fucking way.”

And then it vibrated again.

And you squeal, tossing the phone away like it’s on fire.

It lands on the floor with a loud bang, screen lighting up at you.

@ Superman has sent you a message.

You sit up so fast your blankets tangle around your legs. You toss yourself off the side of the bed, crawling to your phone. Then your DMs are open, hands clammy, and your face burning.

Superman: Sorry about that. I meant to reply privately I probably shouldn’t be allowed near technology at 3AM

You stare at the screen. And blink. And blink again. Theres a tiny verification checkmark at the corner of his name, burning straight in your soul, like it knows you’re losing your mind.

You: This isn’t real Like ur pranking me rn right?

The typing bubble appears almost instantly.

Superman: I promise its actually me Do you want proof?

You’re already typing “YES” when a voice note pops up.

You gasp loudly and shakily press play. There’s a low hum of wind in the background, like he’s somewhere high up. Then his voice, warm and low in your speaker.

“Hi. This is… probably the weirdest way I’ve introduced myself to someone, but yes, it’s me. And yes, I really do read your posts.”

You let out a wheeze and fall back against your carpet, phone bouncing off your face and you just accept it as some sort of divine punishment.

You: Oh my fucking god Okay Im screaming into my pillow rn

Superman: Please don’t suffocate on my account. Ive had way too many near death rescues this week

You bury your face in the carpet, feet kicking in the blanket still tangled around them as the full body waves of second hand embarrassment roll through you.

You: You read my posts?????? Like The serious ones orrr

Superman: All of them. The threads are impressive The other ones are… Flattering

You nearly short circuit, letting out a loud mix of a groan and laugh. The embarrassment is too much honestly.

Superman: Im curious, actually How did you get into all this? You seem to know more about me than some of my coworkers

You: I have a great wifi connection And trauma And a hyper fixation rn

He sends a laughing emoji, and that finally makes you laugh. Really laugh. Of course he uses emojis.

But there’s no way this is actually happening right now, right? The whole thing feels surreal, like you’re dreaming right now, but an ultra realistic lucid dream.

There’s no way one of the most famous men on earth is in your DMs right now

You: This is not real If 16 year old me knew superman wold be in my dms some day she’d die

Superman: Well im glad I waited until now And by the way You still haven’t answered my question about my “proportions”

Oh this man is teasing you.

You stare at the screen before moving back onto your bed. “Holy shit I need to lock in.”

Your hands are slowly steadying, but your hearts still hammering.

You: oh, that You ever heard of scientific curiosity For research purposes only I swear

He keeps responding almost instantly.

Superman: Soo… “proportions” Thats the word youre going with?

You: It sounded more professional than “Is he big everywhere”

You toss your phone away, covering your face with a pillow and let out a strangled scream. Your cat meows in response.

“I know! I know! I am calm, gosh” you wiggle your toes at him and he swats at you, jumping off the bed and walking out of your room. you let out a small “Nooo…”, before your phone interrupts with a string of vibrations and you snatch it back.

Superman: Careful… Someone might think you’ve been imagining me.

Your mouth drops open and you blink hard, heart kicking into overdrive. Hes still teasing, but there something different now. Is it getting hotter in here?

You: Maybe I have Maybe thats part of my job description Im am a professional superman enthusiast after all

You let out a squeal, kicking your feet slightly as you feel giddy. He doesn’t reply for a moment and your stomach tightens, but then the message comes.

Superman: Im somewhere quiet tonight. Just on standby No alarms right now, just me and the wind. And now apparently you.

Something in your chest skips. His words are simple, but you can practically hear his voice in your ear as you read them. Low and Husky, close enough to cause your hair to stand.

You: You shouldn’t say stuff like that Ill get the wrong idea

Superman: Who says it would be the wrong one?

The world seemed to narrow down to the pale glow of your phone screen and the buzzing of your heart.

His next message quickly followed, though. Like he’s chasing something too.

Superman: Ive been wondering… What kind of person could make me blush just from words Now I think I know

Your breath catches as a smile breaks across your face. The words hang in the air around you. You let your thumb hover over the buttons, then type:

You: Maybe you’re just easy to fluster

Superman: Not usually. You might be an exception.

You let out a shallow laugh, the silence between each message you two sent getting thinner and tighter.

But you began to hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, before taking a small, reckless leap.

You: If you think this I bad You shouldn’t see my drafts

Superman: Oh? Is that a challenge

A laugh sputters out of you. It feels like youre standing at the edge of a cliff. High up, dizzying but exhilarating.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you send more

You: This feels like something I shouldn’t be doing on my fan account It’s too public, you know?

Superman: Then give me somewhere else to find you

Your throat tightens, red creeping up your chest and neck.

You: My personal instagrams safer @ yn.unfiltered

You quickly add:

You: If this isn’t actually you pls dont catfish me

Superman: Thats understandable Try @ supe.in.motion

You swipe to the next app and quickly type it in.

He accepts your follow almost instantly, his coming right after. The page that loads is surprisingly simple. Less than a hundred followers, and private. It has only a few pictures, mostly the sky or buildings in Metropolis, with one candid picture of him in what looks like a connivence store dressed in jeans and a gray hoodie, his face half turned to the camera with a faint smile.

Before you could check his followers, your screen lit up:

Incoming call - @supe.in.motion

You freeze as your finger hovers, nerves shooting up into your stomach as the phone vibrates.

He’s actually calling you.

Your heartbeats in your throat, but before you could let yourself chicken out you swipe to answer and bring the phone to your ear.

There’s a quiet rush of air in the speaker first, then his voice:

“Hi.”

You swallow hard. “Hi.”

For a second, neither of you say anything. You just listen to the faint ruffle of wind around him, like he’s somewhere open, on top of a building like he mentioned before. And then you pull the phone away and stifle a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry”

He laughs in response. “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”

“I wasn’t sure you were real,” you smile so hard your cheeks begin to hurt, you try to keep your voice steady and light, although it comes out quieter than expected.

He lets out a low chuckle under his breath, and it runs through your veins as you hold the phone closer.

“Im real,” he says, “though I can’t lie, this feels… surreal. Talking to someone who’s been making me blush just from words.”

You blink, stunned and silent. “Blush?” You echo faintly

“Mhm.” His tone shifted slightly, slower than before, dipping below his normal tone. “Its been a while since anyones managed that.”

You start to feel fuzzy as your stomach tightens.

“Thats not fair,” you let out a soft huff. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

The quietness between you grows sharper, the air thinning. You hear yourself laugh softly, a bit nervous, but there’s no backing down now.

“Maybe you’re just easy to fluster.”

“Im really not,” he says simply. “I think you’re just an exception”

Your breath catches as you fight back a smile.

But you decide to test the water, careful and tentative, words draped with tease

“Do you always talk like this with people who tweet about your… proportions?”

A faint smile is heard in his voice. “Only the ones who make me wonder what else they think about”

Something sparks low in your belly, and your voice dips before you have the chance to stop it. “And what do you think I think about?”

There’s a pause at the end of the line. The wind softly rushing through the speaker, then, “I think,” his voices slow and deliberate, “that If I were there, you wouldn’t be thinking about much at all”

Your body floods with heat. A tingly sensation crawling up from down south as you smile so hard your cheeks hurt. You press your lips together to stop it, your pulse gone wild. “Thats a dangerous thing to say,” you whisper.

“Only if you want it to be.”

You’re the first one to break, soft voice flowing, “this… probably isn’t something I should be doing on speaker. God, if my neighbors hear.”

“Then dont.” His tone is pure velvet now. “I want it to be just for me.”

You switch to the app, your thumb trembling as it hovers. “You are impossible right now”

“I can’t stop picturing you,” he admits. Hes quiet, but certain. “It’s driving me mad.”

You hear soft rustling, the sound of feet against gravel before a short huff and what sounds like him lying down now.

Then something inside you finally gives. Before you can overthink, you switch apps, flicking to your camera and take a quick shot. Just of your legs curled up on the bed, your smooth skin and a glimpse of the hem of your sleep shirt riding high. Just barely suggestive.

You send it.

For a moment there’s only silence. Then his voice returns, rougher than before.

“God... youre beautiful.” A slow exhale. “I want my hands there. Sliding higher. Feeling how warm you are.”

Your breath hitches.

The next sound is a soft rustle, fabric shifting on his end. “here, something for you.” He murmurs.

A photo appears.

Dark gray sweatpants outlined by the dark gravel he’s sitting on, the waistbands slung dangerously low on his hips, and a faint trail of dark hair disappearing even lower. His skin practically gleams. You can see the cut of muscle along his abdomen that looks like it’s carved in marble.

Your mouth goes dry.

“You’re unreal,” you whisper.

“I promise I’m not,” he starts, “I want you to know exactly how real I am.”

You end up going quiet.

Taking a moment to feel what’s happening, what’s unraveling.

It’s a heavy kind of quiet, thick with heat and possibility. Your breaths are shallow, and the phones warm against your cheek. You can hear him breathing slow and uneven now, holding himself in check by thinning patience.

Your hand drifts lower without thinking.

Fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your thin sleep shorts. Brushing the damp spot on your panties. You sigh softly, a shivering sound you didn’t mean to let slip.

His voice drops in your ear, “are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet,” you murmur. “should I let you imagine it?” He’s just teasing you now, “or tell you what id do?”

Your eyes flutter shut. “Tell me.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s shifting his weight, grounding himself in this moment.

“Id start slow,” he purrs in your ear. “Lay you out on your back… spread your legs for me. Just look at you for a moment. Take my time.”

Your fingertips slip under the band, grazing your slick heat. You bite your lip.

“Id kiss your thighs,” he goes on, “over and over. So soft you’d start to squirm”

You let out a small, trembling sound.

“I wouldn’t let you close them,” he adds, gentle voice flowing through the line. “Ill hold your hips still and breath you in. All warm and wet and trembling for me. And then…”

He exhales, and it catches a little.

“Id put my mouth on you. Slow, deep, sticking my tongue inside and drinking you in. Over and over until you can’t stay quiet. Until you can’t even think.”

Your hips lift against your own fingers, breath catching as you stifle a moan.

“Id suck on your clit, like i’ve been starving for you.” He whispers, “id make a mess of you, wouldn’t stop til you’re shaking”

A faint rustle comes through the line, clothes shifting. His breath hitches, a soft groan breaking through, then steadies.

“Youre… so fucking wet, aren’t you,” he speaks softly

“Yes,” your voice comes out unsteady, “God, yes.”

There’s silence once more, but it’s not empty. You hear his voice catch again, hitching in his chest as another low groan curls through the speaker and into your ear, like he’s trying to hold it back.

“Are you…” heat floods to your cheeks, voice faltering. “Are you touching yourself too?”

A pause. Then, low and rough he breaks, “yeah.”

Sparks flood through your tummy.

“Im thinking ‘bout your mouth,” you mumble, “how you’d feel.”

Another rustle, sharper this time. And a shaky exhale, his composure fraying.

“I want you to keep touching yourself,” he says, voice tighter, “while I make you come just from my voice.”

Your fingers move in slow, aching circles. Picking up your slick as you swipe low, catching on the hood of your clit, and making your hips jerk with your own movements. The only sound is your uneven breathing and his, ragged, slipping through the speaker in cracks.

You squeeze your eyes shut, clutching the phone tighter as you imagine him: high up on some building, shirt hiked up beneath his chin as he grips the phone to his ear. Sweatpants yanked down haphazardly, and his hand moving in slow strokes as he jerks himself off to your voice.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. His voice is deep and molten, flowing through your veins. “Just like that. Keep going… let me hear you”

You whimper, soft, helpless, and the sound draws a hiss from him, like you’ve punched the air from his lungs.

“God,” he mutters under his breath. You hear fabric shifting again, quicker this time, and the faint rhythmic drag of skin on skin beneath it. He’s not being careful anymore.

“Tell me,” you gasp, “what you’d do”

He pauses before speaking, lower now, rougher.

“Id get between your legs and pin your hips down.” He says. “Make you hold still while I eat you like I’ve been craving it. Tongue fucking you, tasting everything”

Your hips jerk up. Your fingers slide deeper, moaning softly against your palm.

“Suck on your clit,” he goes on, voice breaking on the word. “Slow, practically torturing you… Fuck. Id hold you open with my thumbs while you grind on my tongue. Until your thighs shake around my head.”

A choke sound slips out of you, your back arching off the mattress. You swear you hear him growl, followed by the quick, rough sound of his hand moving faster.

“Fuck—“ a groan tears through him “you’re so wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Yes—“ your voice cracks. “Id come so fast”

“I know you would,” a strained breath. “But I wouldn’t let you. Not yet.”

You bite back a cry.

“Id make you beg, make you say my name while she’s dripping all over my mouth. You’d be trembling for me.”

Your hand moves faster, wet sounds slick through the speaker. You hear his rhythm stutter, breath catching hard.

“Touch your clit for me” he rasps, “Do it now.”

You obey instantly, circling it with your fingers, breaths coming out fast and broken as your stomach starts to knot.

“God… there you go,” he moans. “Just like that, come for me”

Your thighs are trembling, every muscle tensing. you gasp as your head tips back against your pillow.

His breath shatters in your ear. “Sweetheart…” its barely a sound, just a rough exhale. “Fuck— come for me”

You break with a cry, pleasure ripping through you with a jolt, hips jerking against your hand. Your sounds drag a guttural groan from him, coming in his hand at the end of the line.

You hear him unravel, breath hitching in sharp gasps, turning deep and ragged until it draws into silence. Just his rough breathing and yours, tangled across the crackling air between the lines.

You’re smiling, dazed and still panting. Fingers wrapped around the phone pressed to your ear still. He laughs under his breath, like he can’t believe what just happened either.

“Wow,” he mumbled softly. “You’re gonna be the death of me”

You let out a small laugh, letting your chest rise and fall unevenly as you catch your breath. The phones still pressed against your cheek, burning hot. Your other hands limp, damp and pruning as you let it fall to your side.

“…you okay?” His voices low and warm now, still a little ragged. But softer with the hint of a smile through it.

“Yeah,” you whisper, breath finally catching up to you. “Better than okay.”

He chuckles, quietly, the kind of laugh that feels real in your chest. “Good. Because if you weren’t, id be flying straight over.”

You roll onto your side, tucking the phone closer. “So you do make house calls?”

He exhales through his nose sharply, then is straight back to teasing, “for you? Apparently”

You laugh, burying your face into your pillow all giddy. The air feels lighter now, not less intimate, but different. Just softer.

There’s a rustle on his end, like he’s shifting, settling back. You imagine him stretched out somewhere high up still. Clothes back in place, hair messed up, phone in one hand while the other rests on his chest. You shouldn’t be able to picture it so vividly, but you can now. And it makes you smile.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He whispers

“Me?” You tease, “I wasn’t the one sexting from… where even are you right now?”

He hesitates, then admits with a laugh, “Rooftop. Empty one. Thought it’d be quiet enough.”

“Oh my god.” You bury your face again, half laughing, half horrified. “Superman, you had phone sex with me on a random roof?”

“Better than in the middle of Main Street,” he deadpans

That makes you snort, and he laughs with you. Both of you caught in the absurdity of the situation.

There’s a comfortable silence after you die down, broken only by his sigh. Gentle, but reluctant.

“I should… probably head home before someone realizes I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Your heart sinks a little, though you knew this was coming.

“Will I…” he stops, clearing his throat like the words aren’t easy. “Will I get to talk to you again sometime?

You grin, because the answer feels obvious. “Well, if I need to catch your attention…”

He lets out an amused hum. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just tweet about you again.”

That earns you a real laugh, slipping through the line just for you.

“Sweetheart, you’d get me in trouble,” he says, still laughing. “But I’ll be watching for it.”

Then softer, filled with warmth, “Goodnight.”

Your smile lingers after the line goes dead.

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