Hii! I just saw your post about your writers block, i dont know if you’re still taking reqs but i figured id ask! What if Clark gets really hard and turned on when he gets powered up by the sun bc of all the energy in his body? reader and Clark have been secretly yearning for each other for years and at some point she has to take him to the fortress (after a fight, he can’t walk etc.) and then smutty goodness and a confession ensues… this might be stupid but I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw the movie.
you are so so sweet amor, sorry i took so long to get to this. i looooooove this idea. clark who can't stop himself from getting a hard-on, full of restless arousal…yes……
clark would often describe it as a liberating feeling. though it was hard to believe. you found it brutal, torturous, and frankly, a little ridiculous that something that was an inconvenience to most was what healed clark. broken ribs and all. you were sure he'd been fluffing it all up, considering he never let you be witness to his healing process.
and for a man who laid all his cards on the table, it was highly uncharacteristic. hence, your hypothesis, that it was disgusting and excruciating as you imagined.
"just — just a little further. okay?" your words come out heaving, under the weight of clark's arm. heavy over your shoulders. he's trying his best to hold his own, but it difficult. past the ankle-deep snow, tearing at your jacket, you hear clark's voice. soft and hesitant above you.
"y — …you need to go back." he manages, raspy with effort. "back..to…mister terrific's…ship."
"what? no!" you re-adjust your grip around his waist. fingers digging harshly into the torn fabric of your suit, clark stills, not letting you venture further, signalling your arrival before a vast emptiness of snow, "…we're here? how do we…get…to this 'super-secret'…base of yours —"
your breath hitches, ground trembling as the crystalline structure emerges. the door — glows a bright yellow where the crest rests as it opens. you park your innate fear of the unknown, taking a few tumbling steps before lines of robot-like contraptions crowd you, coming to lift clark out of your hold.
you barely register the distinct temperature drop, or what seemed to be his non-human companions hauling him onto a seat beneath a contraption. the ring structures suspended in the air rotate. clark seems to jolt against the leather, as though he's remembered something. "s..uperman robots…could you please escort —"
"his vitals are critical!" three pipes up.
wearily, you step closer. mechanical clicks reveal a sliver of the ceiling, exposing the chambers to an unsettling draft. clark turns over. even from where you're standing, his gaze finds yours. heavy with both pain and relief.
"w-wait," he manages, "we need to…get her somewhere — a-anywhere but here."
"superman," clark grunts at the tug on his bicep, securing him to the seat. "we need you still."
" — a-argh…"
you instinctively turn when the ring clicks the place. subjecting you to a burst of brightness that leaves you seeing dark spots, even with your eyes shut. it's still not blackness you see, but an entirely white, pulsating beam that curls. some part of you had always thought clark to be invincible. it's the only part he'd ever shown you.
but this — the noise he was making now. wretched and tearing through his chest, echoing around every glassy, cold surface, it made your gut fucking churn. your heart races, and his grunts turn bated. the light dramatically dims, and there's a loud thud.
you finally muster up the courage to look over, to clark, who's on his hand and knees beside the leather surgical-like chair. his cape has cocooned around him — but the rising and falling of his breathing is evident in the manner his back muscles remain taut.
"clark?!"
clark jumps at your gentle touch, finding his back. the other, covering his knuckles where they were braced on the floor. he shoots you a panicked look, cheeks visibly flushed deep. "a-are you okay?" you manage, trying to meet his gaze that only avoids.
"i'm okay," he pulls away from your touch, "really."
you're unconvinced, eyeing the muscle tensing by his jaw. "you don't…look okay. does it still hurt? let me see."
clark lets out a hiss when your hand slides down his shoulders to his chest to push him back against the edge of the seat. "doesn't hurt. but i…need you go." he grits, arm unnaturally covering his front. you shake your head, stubbornly gripping around his wrist, with a rough tug, you pull at it.
"…son of a —" clark lets out a long, drawn-out groan as you stare at his crotch.
"…"
"…say something, please." he implores, making no effort to hide the straining erection, presently pressed taut against his suit bottoms.
"…when you said it was 'liberating'…"
"it's not what you think," clark cuts in, gently pulling away from your hold. "it is. the solar energy."
"heals your bones…gives you bone —"
clark grabs your cheeks before you get to the end of your teasing remark. "i didn't want you around it because of this. it's an anomaly. a side-effect. so. get your giggles out."
you peer up at him. frowning, "m'not laughing," you point out, with a smack to his wrists. "it's fascinating. and so not an anomaly."
he rolls his eyes when you double down.
"no really. so you're telling me that all that intense…energy you get from the sun on your tanning bed thing," you press a palm to his chest, kneading against where you could feel the tremor of his heart. "it just….charges you like a battery," you hum, thoughtfully, dragging a palm to his abdomen, "…to the point all your blood just rushes to —" clark catches your wrist, jaw clenched so tightly it takes him effort to speak.
"don't…start something you can't finish."
the words come out strained. you gulp at the intensity of his gaze. it doesn't unnerve you. "what does it feel like?" he doesn't fight against your touch as your other hand rests on his thigh. instead, he presses his palm over yours, splayed over his abdomen.
"warm," clark mutters, feeling your fingers twitch against him. the residual heat from the sun spreading through your delicate digits. "tingly. sort of."
you lock your gaze with his. the pink of your tongue dragging over your suddenly dry lips. "tingly…good?"
he doesn't respond. guiding your hand lower, to rest above the tented fabric. it twitches, hard against your grip.
"what do you think?"
the whispered words sends chills down your spine. but as soon as that heavy warmth coated yours, it quickly leaves. he doesn't hold you there, his palms planted on the other sides of him.
"i'll have gary escort you back to…"
you squeeze, decisively, shaking your head as you scoot closer, seated on your thighs. "tell me how it feels now." clark lets out a soft whimper, palms turning to fists beside him.
"too fucking good."
the fray in his composure churns want potent in your belly. you drag your fingers down, trailing the length of his strained erection. he bucks helplessly into your touch as you continue to tease him. rubbing the hard lines of his cock harder. "on a scale of one to ten…"
clark groans petulantly, his palms clasped over yours. he thrusts into your hold, visible wet spot blooms against his abdomen. "fifteen."
a pleased smile curls at the corner of your lips. your own arousal evident as you attempt to curb the dull, achy throb. you lean in, breath soft next to his ears. "is it gonna be hot to touch like the rest of you?"
he shudders in your hold, slumping forward to grunt into your shoulder. the vibration has your arching into him, hand curled at the back of his neck in the welcome surprise — he nips at the sensitive skin there, grinding slowly into your touch.
"can't….take it."
you squeal in surprise when clark skillfully twists your wrist to your back, hoisting you up over his shoulders. it doesn't hurt when you're dropped onto the leather surface, forearms coming up to cushion the drop. your giggles coat the tense space, making it much lighter.
clark's boot wedges between yours, kicking them further apart until your thighs are wide enough for him to step between. you feel him tilt your jaw up to face the array of complex buttons of the solar console. "i-i'm…losing my mind here. an'…you're laughing." behind you, a rustle of fabric is heard from where he tugs himself free. the other hand pulling your bottoms and underwear down in a swift movement.
your thighs twitch at the sudden coolness, all laughter stilling at the hard, hot press against your lower back.
"…what's the verdict?" he murmurs, his lips tracing the trembling line of your jaw. hips tensing instinctively at the blunt press of his tip against your core. your slick only allows him to slide further in, coating him in your arousal.
"really fucking hot."
your coo breaks the intensity in clark's composure. you feel what seems to be his smile against your cheek for a brief moment before your breath is knocked right out of you. the single, brutal thrust elicits a raw whine from your throat. he doesn't move just yet, his entire frame shuddering above you, with his forehead pressed to your pulse.
"sh-shit. you're — … so, so t…hick."
clark's breath hitches against your skin, pained, "need you to…relax." he chokes, palm sliding down from your jaw, the width of his palm spanning the delicate column of your throat.
"c-can't. can't focus." the initial sting passes, and you're left, helplessly pulsing around his length as he remains a fortress. you grind back against him in attempt to squelch the fluttery ache deep in your belly.
"h—hrk, don't!" clark lifts his head in a panicked move, hips bucking hard into you as he tenses. clark's harsh pants thrums against your skin, with warmth coating your insides in staggered intervals. "shit. shit." it doesn't click in your mind until he turns you over to rest on your back. the full feeling is rid from you much to your disappointment.
"did…you?"
"i'm…sorry." he rasps.
clark shakes his head, pulling your bottoms completely off your ankles. you gasp softly at the calloused palm dragging over your thighs, moving them to rest on the left side of his shoulder.
the shift has you twitching beneath him, transcluscent liquid bubbling at your core as he presses the tip of his cock against it, pushing the remnants back in.
Imagine surprising Clark by shaving your bush into the shape of a heart.
Like, he gets home after a long day at the Daily Planet; he's exhausted, and all he wants is for you to suffocate him with your thighs and pussy for at least an hour. Multiple hours if he had his way.
Of course, you don't deny him; his puppy eyes are impossible to resist, but when you finally tear off your panties, he's met with…
A heart.
He’s met with a heart.
Yeah, he audibly whimpers. Like full-on whines. He also might've just cummed a little. Ignore the stain, please. If he wasn't so pussywhipped, he'd be embarrassed.
“So, uh—” he gulped. “—watcha got going on there?”
You giggled, more like cackled, at his awestruck demeanor. “Do you like it? I did it just for you.” You pointedly wiggled your hips, and for a moment he swore he saw heaven.
This was unfair. You sprawled out on his bed, completely bare, and with a fucking heart between your legs. How was he supposed to survive?
Superman, Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, defeated by his girlfriend shaving her bush into a heart.
“Thank you, Universe, for blessing me with this gift of a woman.” He bowed his head in silent prayer, muttering the words beneath his breath.
“Are you seriously praying?” you snickered.
“I’m saying grace.”
“Amen.” He gave one final bow of his head, then leaped forward, burying himself between your thighs. Where he was meant to be.
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