david my-coreiswet or whatever

PR's Tumblrdome

#extradirty
Today's Document

@theartofmadeline

No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Monterey Bay Aquarium
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
dirt enthusiast
NASA

JVL
taylor price
AnasAbdin
DEAR READER
art blog(derogatory)
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
No title available

Discoholic đŞŠ
wallacepolsom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Ukraine
@soapygel
david my-coreiswet or whatever
it's not about the cake
clark kent x younger!reader ⚠࣪ ๨ŕ§Ëâ warnings: language, pet names, little food play?, oral sex, some fingering, unprotected sex, age gap, she's a virgin!!, he's a little paternalistic (but in a cute way), size kink, ignore mistakes!!
Clark got you a cake for your birthday, something a little different, something more subtle. He knows you don't like celebrating your birthday much, but he wanted this to be special. You two have only been dating for a few weeks, and he wants to make this day the day you change your mind about your birthdays.
Clark hopes he doesn't go too far with any requests or gifts, let alone a cake he's not even sure you'll like the flavor of.
⚠࣪ ๨ŕ§Ëâ
He got home an hour later than he usually does. You came rushing down the hall, sliding on the wooden floor before jumping into his arms and hugging him, legs wrapped around his torso.
Clark kept the cake box in one hand as he scooped you up like you weighed nothing with his free arm.
"Someone missed me." He chucked softly, feeling you against him. He set the cake on the counter close to him before sitting you down beside it.
The box was pretty pink with a red ribbon on it. You looked beside you and bit your lower lip, knowing it was a pastry of some kind.
Clark grabs a hold of your cheeks and turns your head towards him, "I know what you're thinking, pretty girl."
You flutter your lashes as you look up at him, giving him a knowing look. He tilts his head, drawing out the silence a little longer before speaking. "The answer is no," he says.
You sigh, "Clark... please. Let me see." He stood between your legs, running his hands up and down your thighs, to your waist, squeezing you gently.
He shakes his head as he gets closer, his body leaning down to reach those lips of yours. He gave you a long kiss, hopefully making you forget about the box on the counter.
You pull away with a soft breath, "please?"
He rolled his eyes playfully, "you're a menace. I said no, didn't I?" You pouted a little as you glanced at the box beside you.
Clark stepped back and took off his blazer, hanging it next to your few jackets on the coatrack. But while he wasn't looking, you traced your fingers against the box. Clark heard you, he can hear everything, even your heartbeat. But he didn't dare alert you.
You bit your lower lip, trying to stay quiet as you lifted the lid â a little too late.
Clark sighs, moving swiftly as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, "what did I say?"
You groan, "I want to see it!"
"And you will. But not right now." Clark tossed you on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt as he headed to the bathroom. You then attempt to run out of the room, only to be caught by him again.
He was faster than you...
Grabbing at your shoulders, he backed you up against the bed and made you sit down, "don't make me tell you again, angel. Sit still, don't move."
Finally, you actually do as he requests. He took a shower and you sat on the bed bored and desperate to see what pastry was in the box.
After a long few minutes, your boyfriend came from the bathroom damp with a white towel around his waist. He ruffled his hair in an attempt to dry it more. You were a little...flustered at this new sight â muscular and big. His shoulders almost took up the bathroom doorway. You glaze his body for a moment before slowly looking away, trying not to make it so obvious.
"Been good?" Clark teases you, walking to the bag with his clothes in it. You let out a huff and turned over on the bed, keeping yourself from looking at him. He thinks he went a little rough on you. The tone of his voice changed gradually as he got closer, "I promise, I'll show you what I got later. Just let me think things over."
You sit up, leaning on your elbows. You see his blue eyes looking into yours, but you didn't shy away this time, "what's so tricky about a box, Clark?"
He sighs and looks down at his lap, clearly still thinking about whatever was bothering him. You waited patiently for his response.
He bit the inside of his cheek, "it's nothing you need to worry about, okay?"
⚠࣪ ๨ŕ§Ëâ
After another hour of curiosity, Clark fell asleep next to you in bed. You turned off the tv and glanced at him, gently brushing his curls from his eyes. He stirred a little but didn't wake.
You sigh, thinking to yourself. You look down past the living room, seeing the lonely box on the counter. You look at Clark again, then back to the box. With the remaining motivation you had, you slowly got out of bed and tipped-toed to the kitchen. It wasn't too dark, but not light enough to know if you'd trip on something or not.
You approach the box and open it slowly, feeling the silk ribbon graze against your fingertips. You were slow to be sure nothing woke him up.
You open the box and place your finger against the boxes opening, accidentally taking off the fluffy icing. You gasp, "shit-"
You tried to make it look... somewhat like it did before, but you just made it worse. You put your hand on your forehead in frustration, letting out a whine.
You were mad at yourself for even trying, slowly realizing the next mistake you made â the frosting in your hair was a nice touch to the situation.
"Oh no!" You whisper-yell to yourself, walking to the sink. But before you could get the faucet running, the living room light turned on unexpectedly.
You turn around and see Clark near the chair, approaching you with light footsteps. He had a small smirk on his face, seeing how flustered you were.
"What's going on, baby. Why aren't you in bed?" He asks. You look up at him in hopes he couldn't see the mess in your hair... possibly on your cheek? Maybe your shirt? Oh, no. Your hand too...
"I...wanted some water." You were softly spoken, stalling a little bit.
Clark flicked his brow.
"Yeah? Then what could-," he takes his hand and gently runs it through a piece of your hair, getting some of the white frosting out, "this possibly be?"
You part your lips as you look up at him, glancing at his hand then to his eyes. A nervous look spreads across your face as the pink on your cheeks spread.
"Baby, I told you no." Clark says gently. He wasn't mad, nor was he even frustrated. There was a hint of something else.
You stutter, "I- I thought I could...just peak?"
He chuckled and placed his hand against your cheek, rubbing your flesh softly, "I love you."
That was the first time he's ever said that to you. You weren't expecting it to be this soon in your relationship, but you can't say you don't agree.
Clark pressed his lips against yours and heard a small hum escape your lips, "I didn't get the chance to taste it."
He smirked, "mm, I bet you didn't. Too busy trying to hide the evidence." He pressed kisses on the corner of your mouth, your nose, then your cheek where he could smell the rich vanilla scent.
Clark didn't want to push you too far, but he certainly did something that made your knees weak.
He pressed the tip of his tongue against the little bit of frosting on your cheekbone. You let out an inaudible gasp. He hums, almost as if he enjoyed the taste, or maybe he enjoyed your reaction.
His voice was deep and below a whisper, "what's the matter, baby?"
"What are you trying to do?" You ask innocently. You felt his hands grab at your hips, feeling him lift you to the counter like earlier.
Clark saw the open cake box beside you once more and dipped his finger in, letting the fluffy, vanilla frosting rest on his skin. He looked at your mouth and gently pressed his finger against your lower lip. "Now you can have a taste."
You look him in the eyes, not on purpose, by the mere accident you'd be licking off the frosting the moment you met his eyes.
He nods with a knowing smirk, "good? Too sweet?"
"Mm, good." You felt like you were floating. Clark could hear how fast your heart was fluttering and it only encouraged him to keep going.
He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you close, nearly pulling you off the counter. You wrapped your legs around his torso and gasped, feeling his other hand run up your thigh.
"Only if you say yes~" he whispered.
Oh...
You knew what he wanted. But the question was, did you want it? It's only been a short time since you both started dating. But the tension...sexual tension was too much to deny anymore.
"Yes." The words were fluid, sure, and Clark could tell how you were driven by desperation.
He sighed as he brought his lips close to yours, "are you sure."
You nod slowly, getting more desperate by the second. You felt your core dripping a waterfall in your underwear, you felt your palms sweating, your heartbeat in your ears. Of course you wanted it. You needed it.
Clark picks you up and walks you back to the counter, sitting you flush against the cold marble. He started to run his hands up your thighs, moving his lips to yours, pressing his tongue against your closed mouth for entrance.
You parted your lips, "Clark-"
Before you could even protest, he pushed himself into your mouth, grabbing the back of your neck and laying you down. Your skin shivered against the cold counter, but you didn't complain about the position.
Clark pulled off your pajama shorts, tossing them and admiring what was left. He gripped your hips and kneaded the flesh, feeling your bare skin in places he's never felt before.
You nod, letting out a desperate whimper. He grabs gently at your flesh and kneads gently, feeling your nipples harden underneath his hands.
You lent him a smile and whisper, "I'm a little nervous."
"Want me to stop?" He asks, feeling a little guilty for pushing you harder than intended.
You shake your head, "you might have to teach me."
Clark pushes his body on yours, leaning on the counter between your legs. He pressed small kisses on your jaw and neck.
"Don't worry, just relax for me." He pulled down your underwear, but he didn't look away from your eyes, seeing the unspoken neediness in them.
Clark pressed his hand between your legs and put his middle finger between your wet folds, feeling how soaked you were already.
Your thighs tremble, "C-Clark!"
"hey, baby," he coaxed, "you're alright. Let yourself feel good."
You flutter your eyes when you feel him push his finger in, hitting your g-spot. A gasp escaped your lips as you grab at the counter, becoming restless with the way he was touching you.
"Clark!"
He nods, "I know, baby, I know. Just a little bit more, okay?"
His fingers began to stretch you, feeling your tightness around his fingers made his cock strain against his pants.
You arch your back off the counter as he kneels in front of you. His hands caress your thighs, moving to your calves, lifting your legs over his shoulders.
Clark pressed small kisses against your inner thighs, "you already taste so sweet."
"All I wanted was the cake, Clark." You let out a soft laugh, looking down at him.
He chucked and shook his head, pressing his lips against your clit. You gasp and lift your hips a little, feeling the coming pressure between your hips already.
Clark moans against your pussy as he tastes you. He started to play with your clit slowly, pushing his fingers in and out of you.
"Feeling okay?" He asks. You nod, unable to speak during the moment.
Whines come out of your mouth, your hands grip the edges of the counter as he works on you in ways you've never felt.
"Clark!"
He smirks, "yeah?"
He curves his fingers upwards, finding your good spot again, feeling your tightness. He could tell you were close.
Clark's tongue swirls around your clit, making your stomach tighten. You were nearly there, but you didn't want it to end.
"C-Clark, slow- slow down." You whine. He does as you ask, feeling bad at how fast he pushed you.
He stood, "I'm sorry, love. Are you okay?"
"Just don't want it to end," you slur your words, "please."
He chucked, "silly girl. I'll go slower."
Clark pressed his lips against yours, leaving sloppy kisses against you, making you moan. He smiles against you and moves down, his lips now against your jaw.
His hands felt around, down to your pussy again. He could smell your arousal, he could feel how wet you were.
"I need you."
Clark looks into your eyes for certainty, "are you sure, baby? I don't wanna hurt you."
You nod desperately, your eyes fluttering. Your lips part, waiting for more. You saw him thinking for a moment â thinking about what to do next without you feeling rushed. But he was feeling too good to stop.
Clark took off his belt, keeping his eyes on yours. As he unzipped his pants, you bit your lip, already anticipating what he's about to do.
He let out a soft groan, "you're already making me feel good and I'm not even inside you yet." His hard cock was now in his hand, he glanced at your soaking pussy, then your eyes.
"Clark...Clark please." You plead to him.
He chucked softly, "so needy, baby."
Clark stroked himself a few times before aligning his cock with your cunt, rubbing his tip through your folds.
You moan softly, "oh, Clark."
"I know, I know. It's okay." He coaxed, pushing himself inside you slowly. He lets you feel the stretch, watching your cheeks go red.
You sit up, "Mmh!!"
All you could do was cry out, seeing and feeling how big he was compared to you. The burn hurt a little, but it felt so good at the same time.
Clark pressed his palm against your lower abdomen, pushing the head of his cock against your belly, making a small, round, bulge press on his hand.
You gasp, "Ahh, Clark!"
"Hurting, or feeling good?" He asks softly.
You nod desperately and yelp, "feels g-good!"
Clark smiles and grunts as he bottoms out inside you. Your pussy clenched around him needlessly, taking in how thick he was.
"Such a good girl," he moans, "you're so tight."
He starts to thrust slowly, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit. The edge you felt earlier was coming again, making your stomach hurt, but in a good way.
Your orgasm was on and off, getting closer, failing again. Clark did this on purpose to keep you on edge. He saw tears swell in your eyes.
"Mm- wanna cum!" You whine.
He nods sympathetically, "can you keep it in a little longer for me?"
"I can try-"
He kissed your forehead tenderly as his hips began to move faster. He gripped your thighs, running his hands up to knead your breasts. You whimper each time he thrusts in, your orgasm coming again.
"Gonna cum?" He pants, still keeping his steady movements inside you.
You nod, "C-Clark! Please!"
"Wanna cum? You can cum." He soothes.
Your body tightened â thighs trembling, eyes becoming unfocused, hands sweating against the countertop. Clark let out soft whines, trying to keep it together for you. He failed miserably, cumming inside you without trying to hold back.
You came the second he did, pulsing around him. Your eyes rolled back and you let out loud cries, screaming his name, "Clark!"
"I know- baby, I know." His breath was heavy, he didn't stop moving, only going slower to help you ride out your orgasm without overstimulating you.
"Can I have some cake now?" You ask breathlessly.
He chucked, amused with your unexpected comment, "cake? Sweetie." You sit up a little more and steal a kiss from him, feeling him inside you, still. He deepened the kiss with a soft mutter, "yes, you can have some."
repost from my old account // do not repost without my consent.
bruce wayne x clark kent (superbat) ! 18+ MDNI, rimming, body worship, anal sex, aftercare ! these two...AUGHHHHH.
Clark after a rough day dragging Bruce to the bedroom without a second thought. he doesn't speak as he hears the dark knight behind him sputter in confusion, he only makes sure he's in the room before he's shutting the door and moving to the bed. he sits himself down, pulling his lover close to stand between his thighs before pressing his face against his toned stomach. Bruce can feel his fingers trembling on his hips, can see the exhaustion written in every inch of his body, and feel the need for release as he rubs a hand down his back.
"i need you." Clark mumbles, inhaling shakily. "i need to not think for a while. please." it's a quiet but pleading request from this strong figure Bruce has come to know. he's so selfless all the time, giving 110%, 24/7, for every citizen of Metropolis. he's never seen him ask for anything, but here he is now and he's the one he's asking.Â
and what kind of hero would he be if he didn't acquiesce?Â
Bruce sets a moderate pace as he helps Clark strip from his suit, the spandex lying on the floor in a heap, followed by his briefs and socks. he guides him onto his stomach, kissing and rubbing down his strained body, listening to the soft sighs and whimpers from his lover as he reaches to the dip in his spine just above his plump ass. his hands gently knead his hips as he presses delicate kisses over the plush skin, never dipping inward, staying surface-for now at least. he doesn't tease like he normally would, he doesn't take.
this is about letting him feel, taking care of him because he needs it.
he repeats that to himself as he slowly peels off his own clothes, watching Clark turn over onto his back to watch, his eyes hazy and lidded with lust and exhaustion. the sight makes Bruce's chest ache softly, a quiet determination setting in to give him everything he can. he moves between Clark's thighs, kissing him deep and slow, his hands wandering down to his hips, then to his thighs as he guides them up around his waist. he loves the way it makes his lover's breath hitch and a soft whine slip from his throat. he feels his large, calloused hands wander to his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline as he continues to kiss down down down to that perfect V in his hips that drives him mad. he licks into the divots of his hips, nips at those perfect peaks of bone, continuing down until he can nuzzle into that patch of dark hair between his thighs, placing loving kisses around the base of his cock.
âiâve got you.." he mumbles, looking up at the beautiful man struggling to breathe above him. "i've got you." he repeats firmer, moving lower until he can plant his lips on that puckered, pink hole.
the sounds it pulls from Clark's lips make Bruce's head spin, and he relishes the way he clenches on his tongue. it makes him all the more eager as he licks and lavishes over him, moaning against the ring of muscle in a way he knows will make him crazy. he holds his hips tightly, thumbs rubbing over the peaks, a reminder he's still there. he's got him. he lets him writhe and shake against him, lets him whine and cry out, lets him fall apart because he knows he can put him back together after. "Bruce, hahhâplease." Clark sobs above him, his hands pulling on Bruce's hair, lifting him off his hole so he can see just how wrecked he really is for him. how much he still needs.
Bruce smiles and leans up to kiss his handsome boy, letting him taste himself on his tongue as he rearranges himself to line up with his hole, letting the head of his cock rest against him as he swallows the moan Clark lets out, his hips pushing back with need. Bruce pulls away and spits in his palm, bringing it down to rub over his throbbing length, slicking it up (even if he knows Clark's pain tolerance is incredibly high) before realigning himself. he links his free hand with Clark's, pressing their foreheads together as he pushes forward, that warm heat swallowing him inch by inch until their hips meet and he can barely breathe. he feels Clark's fingers dig into his skin, his thighs trembling as they tighten around his waist.
"Bruceângh...." he wobbles out, his plush lips trembling before falling open in a breathless moan as Bruce pulls out and pushes in again.
he starts off slow, his pace steady and tender. he feels Clark squeeze his hand, his insides squeeze him in tandem. it makes the dark knight's head spin and he can't help but speed up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room alongside Clark's whines and sobs, his body shaking and his eyes rolling back. bingo.
Bruce's chest fills with joy, knowing he's finally given his lover what he needed-to not think. he goes a little harder, panting and groaning against Clark's neck, his grip bruising on his hip as he drives the head of his cock into that perfect spongy spot over and over again, just so he can't hear those perfect whines. so he can feel those nails digging into his skin. so he can watch that perfect face fall and scrunch in pleasure and need.
it makes the heat low in his gut burn and burn and burn until the rope is snapping and he can feel himself spilling inside of Clark-and in turn feel Clark clench hard around him and hear him cry out in pleasure as he spills over his own stomach, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. "ahghhâBruce!" he shouts, his body trembling through the aftershocks as Bruce gently pants and rubs over his skin, murmuring sweetly to him. "shhhâŚ..shh, it's okay, you did so good, baby. so proud of you, you're perfect, love you so much..." he kisses over Clark's neck, his cheek, his nose, licking up those tears on his skin. he brings their hands to his chest, letting him match his breathing, helping him come down. "thank you.." Clark mumbles hazily against his chest, his body limp and loose in his arms. Bruce hums and stays inside him, holding him close and tight, keeping him safe. keeping him together like he promised he would.
âI wanna tryâ
Clark x inexperienced reader
Cw: explicit content, oral (f and m receiving), praise, blah blah blah
You woke up early that morning. Clarkâs arms wrapped around you. You could feel his morning wood pressing against your lower back through his sweats. You turned in his hold, looking at him.
He started to blink his eyes open. âGoodmorning honeyâ he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. âMorningâ you said back. Building up your confidence for what you wanted to ask him. âClark, your hardâ you whispered shyly.
He looked at you nodding. âItâs morning wood, itâs normalâ he says casually thinking youâre just curious.
âCan I help?â You whispered, heart beat racing.
He blinked a couple times, looking at you. âHow do you wanna help baby?â You look down at his crotch getting nervous now. âCan you teach me how to use my mouthâŚâ you whispered, feeling like you would never have said that sentence in your life.
He nodded once. âYou sureâ he whispered, thumb reaching up to trace your bottom lip gently making your cheeks heat up. âI wanna learnâ is all you said back.
He reached down, pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself, moving to lay flat on his back. You sat up watching him. Hair still messy from sleep.
You looked at him. Nervous to try anything. âYou donât have to baby. Iâm fine with just cuddling you and itâll go down.â He said looking at you like you were the sun, moon and all of the stars combined, because in his eyes you were. âI wanna try, just tell me how.â You said back, palms getting sweaty. Yet you really did want to try. You wanted to make him feel good.
âYouâre gonna wanna put your lips over your teeth, good like that baby, if you want you can spit on it a little.â As he told you, you leaned down and gently spit a small glob of spit on his tip making him suck in a harsh breath. He moved his hand down to your gently guiding it to his dick.
With your hand wrapped around it and his around yours, you guys started to pump him a couple time. He closed his eyes, and for some reason that made you more comfortable as you leaned down, covering your teeth with your lips like he told you and took the pink tip into your mouth.
He groaned, a deep groan from his throat as he put his free hand over his face, his other hand leaving yours as he gently moved your hair out of your face so he could see you as he opened his eyes again.
It made him throb. Seeing you, with your focus on what your doing, your hand gently moving up at down while gently sucking on his tip. It was enough to make him want to bust his load right then and there. Yet when your eyes moved up to his, he truly felt he wouldnât last.
His hand gently running through your hair, not pulling or pushing or guiding your head, just gently running his fingers through the messy hair as you suckled on his tip.
âBaby Iâm gonna cumâ he said, making you shocked he was already there, you barely even did anything yet. âIf you donât want it in your mouth you should pull away.â He said, watching as you stay put on the tip of his cock. With a groan he came in your mouth, the salty taste invading your taste buds.
You pulled back holding it in your mouth with a slightly grossed out face. He chuckled reaching and grabbing a tissue from the bedside table, holding it to your mouth for you as you spit it out. After he just threw it away.
He grabbed your hand guiding you back up as he pressed a kiss to your lips. âYou did so good, that was amazingâ he said making your heart flutter. âCan I make you feel good?â He asked, making you nervous again.
Yet seeing his gaze on your face, his eyes looking at you like youâre the only person he wants to see at the moment makes you nod.
âClose your eyesâ you whispered nervously, he did without another word. You stood up taking your pj shorts off, keeping the shirt off his that you slept in on, along with your panties. You got into bed under the covers hiding your legs and panties as you snuggled back into him, allowing him to open his eyes.
âYou sure? We donât have too.â He asks, always considerate, always overly patient to wait for you. Yet you nod anyways, âIâm okayâ you said.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand that was on the bed from him laying on his side gently running through your hair, the other one moving under the covers, finding your waist first. He could feel and see you still had his shirt on. He moved the covers down to your mid thigh, looking at your panties.
He sat up, getting infront of you. Gently rubbing your thigh, grabbing you ankle and pressing soft kisses to it. Your hands were messing around with his shirt that was on you as you watched him.
He grabbed your other ankle also kissing it slowly. Then the inner part of your knees. Then your inner thighs, close where you could feel a small throb. Then finally, over your underwear he pressed a soft open mouth kiss. You could feel his hot breath through the soft cloth. He continued to press kisses there, inhaling deeply for a second, eyes closing. His right hand met with his mouth finding your clit over the cloth. Rubbing slow, gentle circles. His mouth moved from your pussy to your thighs, kissing and gently nipping. His eyes never leaving your face.
The slow build up felt so good. He was taking his time, making you extremely wet, so wet he could see the small patch forming through your underwear yet he didnât say anything. His other hand moved your shirt up till it was snug under your breasts. His mouth kissing up your stomach as his thumb never left your clit. He watched as your breathing got a little shakier, deeper.
âYouâre so beautifulâ he said. âSo gorgeousâ he added along.
His words making you flushed on your neck, to your cheeks and to your ears. He pulled up his shirt till it was resting over your breasts, his mouth not waiting a single second before latching onto one of your nipples, his free hand working your other one. Itâs felt so good, your hips rolling to meet his hand. Your eyes closing. âGood girlâ he whispered around your breast, watching you gain more confidence to move. He could feel how wet you were, and he couldnât wait to taste it.
His hand and mouth left your breasts. His fingers pulling the band of your panties down, over your thighs, knees and off. His eyes never leaving your face. He saw exactly what he wanted though, he saw your eyes closed, relaxed with being practically naked infront of him. Not shy or nervous. He loved seeing you like this. He laid your underwear on the bed before making his way back down. Kissing your ankles, knees, and inner thighs while whispering praise.
His thumbs spread your folds apart gently his tongue moving to taste you, running from your hole to your clit with a groan, his eyes rolling back and closing right after. A soft whimper escaped your lips, you didnât tense though, you stayed relaxed. He moved your legs over his shoulders, one of his hands guiding your to his hair before he dug in like you were his last meal. nose pressing against your clit as he tongue licked you all. Pressing open mouthed, sloppy kisses to you down there. The smacking sound reverberating through the room as your hips moved to meet his face. He moaned, actually moaned when he felt you grind against his face.
Your hand found his hair and gripped tightly, thighs squishing his face. âClarkâ you gasped out his name when his tongue met your clit, suckling all over before spitting on it and suckling again.
It felt like he was making out with the wrong pair of lips, yet it was so good you didnât want him to stop. You could hear his groans as he tasted you. He never put his tongue inside of you or moved to put his fingers inside of you. His focus mainly on your clit as he worked it out of its hood, making it sensitive and throb.
You could feel a pressure building in your lower abdomen. Your body squirming more on the bed. He let you. Watched as your back arched off the bed and layed back back down. Watched as your hips squirmed and rubbed your pussy on his face. He loved how you looked while you were lost in pleasure. Pleasure that he caused. Listening to your whimper and heavy breaths pick up. You werenât moaning exaggeratingly loud. You kept it real, letting him pull out only true noises of pleasure out of your body.
âClark Sâtoo muchâ you whimpered biting your lip. He felt your hand meet his forehead it a half hearted attempt to slow him down or push him away. He grabbed your small hand and put it on his hair against as he sucked and licked on your clit with more urgency, knowing you were so close to snapping.
And you did, with a breathless whimper you came on his tongue. He held your hips still and watched as your stomach clenched, thighs trembling around his head as he made you take your own pleasure. Your eyes rolled back your mouth open in a silent moan. He worked you over till you were trembling and breathless. Only then, with one last open mouth kiss did he leave your pussy. His hands running over you thighs, sides, and face gently. Watching you catch your breath.
âYou okay?â He asked after some bit. You nodding blinking your hazy eyes open and it made his heart beat faster. âGood, you were so gorgeous, always so pretty for me.â He whispered, setting a kiss on your jaw.
@soapygel I did my best lol.
ABYSS KISS â๨ŕ§ËâĄË ࣪࣪|| clark kent x fem!reader || oneshot
other pairings: inexperienced!reader x clark kent
summary: You and Clark Kent had always shared something unspoken â a quiet safety. Long before your relationship, he was the one who listened to your rants about failed dates and your fears around intimacy. Youâd told him everything: how romance never quite fit, how sex had become a distant memory. But Clark saw you. He always had. Now, after months of slow, growing affection, youâre finally together â though physical closeness still feels unfamiliar. He knows that. So one quiet night, with trust hanging in the air as you cuddled under a blanket watching a movie, you get a little squirmy from the close contact, and he noticed, offering to help.
word count: 7.6k
warnings: service!top clark, inexperienced!reader, dirty talking, fingering, oral fem!receiving, spit as lube, pussy pronouns, mild language, praise kink, dacryphilia, clark is a bit condescending, size kink, didn't notice I made the reader kinda nonverbal sometimes...,
There was always something about Clark Kent that felt different. Not in the obvious way â not the glasses or the quiet charm, not even the way he seemed to fill up a room without meaning to. It was in the stillness. The way he listened without trying to fix, the way he gave space without making you feel abandoned. Being around him felt like standing in sunlight: gentle, quiet warmth that you didnât realize you needed until it settled on your skin.
tbr
clark kent x f!reader
synopsis: you'd like to hear clark curse.
"say fuck."
"no."
"say fuck, please?"
clark huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes before looking down at you. you return his gaze with wide blinking eyes, a symbol of feigned innocence and utter cuteness. it takes a lot of strength for clark to not crumble beneath that heavy load.
"why do you want me to say it so bad?" clark asks, curious and watches as you shrug.
"just want to hear how it sounds," you reply. "like i hear you say gosh and golly all the time. which is absolutely fine by me, i love the whole innocent farm boy thing you've got going on."
clark's ears turn a soft red as his cheeks bunch up with his amused smile.
"but i just want to hear it'd sound with your voice. and if it's going to be just as panty-dropping worthy as it is in my head."
clark's smile widens. "so you think about me?"
"slow your roll, smallville," you reply, smiling just as wide. "so what do you say? please say fuck. i'll give you $20."
"i literally can't be bribed," clark says, amused. "but if i was willing, i would require more than $20."
you eye him with playful suspicion. "what would your terms be?"
clark pretends to think about it, humming as he draws closer to you. he curls his arms around you, pulling a very willing you into his embrace. you steady yourself with your hands on his chest, peering up at him as you await his answer.
"a dozen kisses and three cuddles sessions," he says after a minute and you nod solemnly.
"plus the $20?" you ask and clark shakes his head, working you both into a gentle sway.
"it's never about the money. it's just about me spending time with my favourite gal and fulfilling her oddly specific desires."
"aw, aren't you the sweetest?" you coo, reaching up to cradle his dimpled cheeks. "okay, deal. a dozen kisses and three cuddles. now please say fuck."
"okay, sweetheart," clark agrees, clears his throat, and leans in until his lips are brushing against your slightly warm ear. your heart pounds loudly in your chest, anticipation rising as you await for the word to jump.
then clark says:
"ffffiddlesticks."
and cracks up to the point of tears as you push his bulk away with little success.
practice makes perfect || c.kent
october day 4: up-against-the wall kiss
pairing:Â actor!clark kent x actress!reader
summary: you're an up-and-coming actress, and you've been cast in a film with hollywood heartthrob, clark kent, as your co-lead. however, you've never kissed anyone on-screen before, and you're starting to feel nervous for tomorrow's intimate shoot. your co-star and on-screen husband, clark, helps you rehearse.
tags: actor!au, human!clark, co-workers to something more, suggestive, fluff, secret-ish rendezvous, lots of making out, clark (sort of) has ulterior motives
word count: 2.3k+
a/n: lines spoken in character (in the fictional script) are italicized and bolded. marina and harry are the made-up characters clark and the reader play in the film.
7:53 pm. 7 more minutes.  Â
Your skin hummed with a nervous shudder as you glanced at your phone.Â
Yesterday, after a long and delirious night shoot on set, youâd confessed to Clark that youâd never had an on-screen kiss. Sure, youâve had your first kiss and a fair share of romantic partners in the past, but never in front of an entire cast and crew.Â
The idea made you nauseous; the image of looking stiff or robotic while filming made your body flame with embarrassment. While you were airing out your grievances to Clark, he kindly responded to say he could help. You were going to kiss him in the scene, so why not just practice beforehand?
He insisted it would help you feel comfortable with the scene, âthink of it like doing a practice test before a final exam. Emulate exam conditions at home, so youâll be prepared when the time comes,â he explained. Acting was like studying in a way: learn, then apply your knowledge.
His last scene of the day was scheduled to be completed around 8 pm. The October sun had already set, leaving you to sit alone in your trailer in anticipation. Your leg rattled up and down as you skimmed through the script over and over, until the words began to blur.Â
It was just practice. Therefore, it didnât matter if you messed up a line or looked unromantic; yet part of you still felt fearful of looking unprepared in front of Clark. More than anything, you wanted to be good at your job, and in this case, that meant somehow cultivating perfect romantic tension with your co-star, without making things weird.Â
Clark was a directorâs dream. Everyone with eyes knew he was attractive, and his presence alone commanded attention. Sure, he was a little awkward at times, but he always had an air of confidence about him because he was so incredible at his job: He always had perfect first takes, never forgot his lines, and treated everyone on set with respect and kindness. Being around Clark made you want to be a better actress.Â
Clark was also professional. So professional that you figured he was the type of person who would never date a co-star, because he felt it could ruin the film if things went wrong. You admired how moral and ethical he was, but part of you hated it. You found yourself gravitating towards him off-set, constantly joking around between takes, and texting each other endlessly on your days off. You developed a crush. A gooey, heart-fluttering, unprofessional crush, and you knew it wouldnât amount to anything.Â
You knew that pushing away your feelings for Clark for the remainder of the film would be near impossible. Especially now that youâll be spending all of tomorrow kissing him for hours on end.Â
A knock at the door silenced the anxious rumblings clouding your brain.Â
tbr
the suit stays on || clark kent x fem!reader
written with david's clark in mind
warnings: porn with no plot, dry humping, dirty talk, no use of y/n, too many pet names (honey, sweetheart, pretty girl). divider credit: @saradika-graphics
it started when clark came home after a long day. you were curled up on the couch, waiting up for him and trying your best to fight off sleep. it's really not your fault, he looks so sweet in his suit. offering you a charming smile while gently caressing your cheek, in awe of how beautiful you are.
once he sat down, you wasted no time in climbing onto his lap. kissing him feverishly, slipping your tongue into his mouth and biting down on his bottom lip. clark catches on quick, letting you take the lead because you know exactly what you want. he untangles his strong hands from your hair and moves them to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. you instinctively start rutting your hips against him, weight concentrated on his growing bulge.
why is it so prominent in his suit? you have a really hard time looking him in the eye when he's wearing it. mind littered with memories of him buried so deep inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again to makes you dizzy and cry out his name.
your pull your sweatshirt over your head, leaving only your panties on. he groans, realizing you were completely bare underneath.
"hun-honey,â he chokes out breathless, âgive me a second," in between kisses. youâre not slowing down, there's no time.
"let me take this off" he pouts. absolutely not, there no way you're letting that happen.
you quickly shake your head and mutter, "no please don't."
âbut sweetheart i-its dirty, i want to take care of youâ you swallow his words, but his tone deepens, "properly," making your insides twist and even more heat rush to your core.
he glances down at the thin lace separating his suit from where he wants to be most. raking his nails down your back to cause a broken moan to slip from your lips. he needs to be consumed by you.
âleave itâ you pant, moving your panties to the side so you can press right up against his clothed cock. his eyes practically roll to the back of his head, heâs already spent and you're going to be the death of him.
he's so hard, just for you and you want to feel all of him in this suit. as much as it will allow. your fingers grip the fabric covering his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck and shuddering when your nipples brush against the rough material enveloping his chest.
âdoes this turn you on pretty girl?â he tempts, "getting off on my suit?" he can't take his eyes off of you, entranced by the desperate rocking of your hips and the sloppy bruises you're sucking on his neck that will be gone by morning.
you hum, slumping into his chest to bury your head in his neck. too consumed by the pleasure of you clit sliding across the textured fabric. he steads you with a firm hold on your waist. you never have to worry about anything with clark, he's devoting to taking care of you. he sets a rhythm, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts. youâre on top but heâs in control.
with the pressure on your core and clark's never-ending encouragement, it doesn't take much for your release to come. he knows your body like the back of his hand, always there to lead you through it. you bite down on his shoulder to stifle the moans erupting from your throat and he lifts your head to crash his lips into yours, leaving you breathless by the time he pulls away. his lips red and swollen. your eyes are still closed when he hear his soft voice.
âhow about we go to bed and try this again. but my way instead?â he murmurs, tucking your hair behind you ear and kissing your forehead.
should i write more about clark? feedback is always welcome and requests are open!
First of Many | C. Kent
summary âśâ.Ë Itâs your birthday! But even on the best of days, Superman never rests. Leaving the birthday party he planned for you makes Clark so sad and regretful, he just has to make it up to you⌠And he does.. in his favorite way!
pairing âśâ.Ë clark kent x fem!reader
word count âśâ.Ë 3.3k
warnings âśâ.Ë probably ooc clark (sorry!), porn with kinda a lot of plot, clark is so babygirl, oral f recieving, unprotected p in v, creampie (you tell him to keep it in), explicit smut, slight angst, fluff, and the fluffiest aftercare (all my favorite things!) reader and lois are (somewhat?) friends. pet names (love, baby, sweetheart, sweet girl), professions of love. also, this is half unedited, sorry.
a/n âśâ.Ë itâs my birthdayayay! I was working on literal crunch time to post this because, despite getting the idea on monday, my procrastination led me to actually start 2 days ago.
watched superman for the first time and yes, I know Iâm super late but I love it so much clark has become the love of my life (again, I was a huge DC kid.) Anyways, sorry for the yap, enjoy!
soundtrack âśâ.Ë my love - justin timberlake
as always, read at your own risk!
tbr
wicked games.
word count: 4.6k
pairing: scott miller x chubby fem!reader
summary: another night entangled in each others embraces, leads to the end of what you had believed to be nothing other than a fling. at least⌠thatâs what Scott made it seem likeâŚ
warnings: ooc!scott lwk, lil bit of angst, fluff, SMUTTTTTTUHHHHH but lwk slow burn ig idk, i use a lot of the same gestures and words in this so like please bare with me, cr3ampie, mentions of cvm eating but lwk you gotta use your imagination, on the low jealous scott AND jealous reader (but on the low type), belly bulge and honestly size kink (we fw that heavy in this house), and probably more but idk
authors note: i have fallen for the tall, beefy white man propaganda and i am not sorry. this took me like 500000 years to write (3 days) and most of it was when i was half asleep. i also wrote the last part when i was on call with my friends and had to mute and turn off my camera because of how much i was tweaking. but ENJOY ALSO I LOVE THIS BIG SASSY MAN đ đ đ đ
You fucking hate Scott Miller. It was a sick game.Â
This back and forth with him was a sick, twisted game he loved playing. At least⌠from your knowledge.
âYou awake?â texts at the peak of midnight, snuck kisses in the shitty gas station restrooms, etc. had almost become routine. And you hated it. You hated that you fucked up your sleep schedule to accomodate to him. You hated that you went against your unspoken rules as a Wrangler for a man. Who worked for StormPAR nonetheless. You hated it.Â
Yet you couldnât stop yourself from wanting him.Â
Your eyes shoot open at the soft ding that came from your phone, turning to your nightstand as the scratchy motel sheets drag across your skin. You wipe the sleep from your eyes as your phone screen shines against your face, the familiar contact mocking you as you internally sigh.
my gyat
Clark Kent who missed you during the day, but is too eager to feel your pussy the second he's back home, so he just has you talk to him while you're on his cock
âHow was your day?â he asks, kissing your shoulder as his hands rub up and down your hips, squeezing the flesh gently.
âIt was fine,â you say breathlessly, holding onto his arms, thighs trembling slightly on either side of his hips. He's big, his cock stretching you out, the angle making it press against your womb.
âJust fine? How was that meeting you had?â he questions, kissing your neck, feeling your slick dribbling down and smearing on his lower abdomen.
âGreat,â you reply, dazed. âIt went great.â
âYeah? I'm glad,â he says as he slides a hand to your womb, angling your hips and groaning at how wet and warm and tight your gummy walls are.
You whine, gasping softly.
âNothing new today? Nothing different? You just had a boring office day?â he teases, leading you to bounce on him, making your cunt flutter around his cock.
âIt was fine,â you manage, a little mewl leaving your pretty lips.
âYou keep saying fine,â he points out, his hand adding pressure to your lower belly as his thumb lands on your clit. âYou usually have a million things to tell me, and you complain about that old hag at the desk next to yours. Not today?â
âIâIt wasâYeah,â you gasp, moaning.
Clark grins. There's something about seeing your mind draw a blank while he's in you, that just turns him on so much. âWhat's wrong, baby? Pretty head not working? Should I pull my cock out so we can keep talking?â
âNo!â you gasp. âNo.â
âThen talk to me. Tell me about your day, I missed you,â he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly.
âI missed you too, just...it's not easy to think.â
âTry? For me?â he whispers, removing his thumb from your clit and stopping you from going up and down, leading you to just rock back and forth on him.
You whine, but find it somewhat easier to recall the events of the day.
He makes you tell him all about it while he eases the tension out of you. He listens intently, commenting and asking questions. And by the time you're done, your slick has soaked all the way down to the bed sheets under you both and his cock is painfully hard in you.
âWell, now that I'm all caught up, I can fuck you properly and make you feel better, yeah? Gonna treat my girl like the goddess she is.â
⥠please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing
---
Taglist - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk đ
@booboobear-12 @savvysavsblog13 @donnadiddadog @akkahelenaa @tysukier @animegamerfox @absolutelybloodyhopeless @teenytinylilcrawdaddies @simpingreader @tezooks @justheretoreadmydear @lovexbunny @lahniii @dolleciita @tinawantstobeadoll @preciselyshifts @markiplex @kissmxcheek @buckyisveryhot @rayamayaÂ
---
Clark Kent masterlist
clark with a shy, nervous girl; suggestive content
If you had told your past self the night would be ending with you and Clark practically dry-humping on your couch, you wouldn't believe it. Not that anything like that is above you, just because you can barely find it in yourself to kiss him goodbye most nights, absolutely ridden with anxiety.
Tonight had been you and Clark's fifth date and like all those before, he had absolutely swept you off your feet. He was such a gentleman, and you were so infatuated with him that when it was nearing the end of the night, you had scraped together all your confidence and asked him if he wanted to spend the night.
Fast forward to now, you and Clark were blindly moving through your apartment, making out like horny teenagers. You make it as far as your living room before he's dropping down on your sofa, pulling you along with him. You land in his lap with a surprised gasp that's half muffled against his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders for stability. He laughs at your reaction, lips still pressed against yours, and the deep vibration of his chest against yours makes heat pool low in your tummy. You swear everything he does is so insanely hot.
He wastes little to no time before he's kissing you breathless once again, hands that once sat idly on your hips now exploring the expanse of your body. He's not crude about it, though, big hands sliding up your arms and down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hands are so warm, and even through your clothes, it feels like he's setting your skin on fire with his touch.
He's not letting up, lips moving against you with a fervour that had you feeling lightheaded as they travel across the side of your face, underneath your chin and up the expanse of your neck before they return to your lips once more. One of your hands moves from his shoulder to the back of his head, lightly tugging at the soft curls there when you feel him pulling you impossibly closer, making your core press right against the hardness in his slacks. He groans at the brief sting of the tug paired with your warmth pressed right where he wants it most, and the sound travels right through you, makes your legs shake in anticipation, and your fingertips feel numb.
He's everywhere at once, filling all your senses in the most intoxicating way. He tastes like the vanilla ice cream you had shared for dessert and smells like something woody and fresh and so very him. It's taking everything in you to not moan aloud at just the simple feeling of his hands tugging and grabbing at you so hungrily, too embarrassed to really let him know how good he was making you feel already.
Clark's brows furrow in confusion once he notices it. He can hear the way your heart beats frantically in your chest like it's trying to escape your ribcage, and normally he wouldn't be too worried (hell, he'd most likely be flattered from getting a reaction like that out of someone with just a little kissing) but the rapid pace at which your heart beats paired with the almost iron grip you had on his shoulder and the way your body almost refuses to relax in his embrace concerns him.
So gentle as ever, his hands return to their hold on your hips before he's pulling away from your lips reluctantly, almost immediately missing the sweet taste of you. "Sweetheart," he calls timidly, smiling at your still shut eyes. When you do open them, you're met with eyes blown in lust yet still so soft with adoration.
"You okay?" he asks, hands rubbing up and down your sides in a way he hopes is comforting, grounding. "You know we don't have to do anything tonight. I'll leave right now if you want." "No!" your voice is so sudden your shock yourself, "No, I'm okay. I don't want you to leave. I want this, I promise. I'm just a little nervous, is all. I'm sorry."
You're aware that you're rambling a little, but you needed to make it crystal clear how badly you really wanted this, even if your own nerves were getting in the way. And Clark, bless his heart, doesn't seem annoyed or discouraged by this, in fact his eyes soften a little more at your words. He holds your face in his handsâ tips of his fingers reaching into your hair while his thumbs rub across the balls of your cheeksâbefore he's pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"Don't apologize, sweetheart. We'll just take it slow, alright? Whatever you want, I'll do it," he speaks, lips still pressed against your forehead. You nod softly before you're pulling back from him so that you could meet his eyes once more. There's so much warmth and admiration behind them that it makes a funny feeling erupt in your chest, too heavy to mention yet undeniably there. Before your courage fades, you're lips are pressing against his in another kiss, hoping your eagerness speaks for you. He's stunned for a split second before he's kissing you back with the same amount of (if not more) intensity, smiling once he feels the way you finally relax in his hold, practically melting into him with a dreamy sigh as your fingers hungrily weave their way through his hair.
omg
to whom it may concern Â
clark kent đą đŤđđđđđŤÂ đđđ đŹ / đđ° â 18+, MDNI, secret admirer au, slowburn romance, mutual pining, radical acceptance and love is the real punk rock, yearning, clark is a softie, smut, piv, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, creampie, touch starved clark Kent word count: 18k Summary: You start getting anonymous love notes at the Daily Planetâsoft, sincere, impossibly romantic. You fall for the words first, then realize they sound a lot like Clark Kent. And just when the truth begins to unravel, you start to suspect he might be more than just the writer⌠he might be Superman himself. notes â not proofread and my first full Clark Kent fic!
â reblogs comments & likes are appreciated
The first thing you notice isnât the coffeeâitâs the smell.
Sharp espresso. The exact blend you order on days when the world feels like sandpaper. Dark, hot, and just a touch too strong. But when you reach your desk and set your bag down, the cup is already waiting for you, balanced on the corner of your keyboard like it belongs there.
A single post-it clings to the cardboard sleeve, the ink a little smudged from condensation:
âYou looked like you had a long night.â
No name. No heart. Just that.
You stare at it for a second too long. The office hums around you, phones ringing, printers whining, the low buzz of voices, but your ears tune it all out as you reread the handwriting. Rounded letters. Slight right slant. You canât place it.
And no one in this building knows your coffee order. You made sure of that.
Across the bullpen, Jimmy Olsen drops into his chair with a paper bag in his teeth and two cameras slung around his neck.
âSomeoneâs got a secret admirer,â he sings, catching sight of the note.
You glance up, but try to play it cool. âCould be a delivery mistake.â
He snorts. âRight. And Iâm dating Wonder Woman.â
Lois, passing by with a stack of mock-ups under one arm, pauses just long enough to lift a perfectly sculpted brow. âWhoâs dating Wonder Woman?â
âJimmy,â you and Jimmy say in unison.
âRight,â she says, deadpan, and moves on.
You feel a little heat crawl up your neck. You pull the cup closer. The lidâs still warm.
Youâre still turning the note over in your hand when Clark Kent rounds the corner. His hair is a little damp at the ends, like he didnât have time to dry it properly, already curling from the late-summer humidity. His tie, striped, loud, and undeniably Clark, is halfway undone, the knot drifting lower by the second. His glasses are slipping down his nose like theyâre trying to abandon ship.
Heâs juggling three manila folders, a spiral-bound notebook balanced on top, a half-eaten blueberry muffin in his teeth, and what youâre almost certain is the entire city councilâs budget report from 2024 spilling out of the bottom folder. Itâs absurd. Kind of impressive. Very him.
âClark, careful,â you call out, mostly on instinct.
He startles at the sound of your voice and turns a little too fast. The top file slips. He manages to catch it, barely, with an awkward swipe of his forearm, the muffin top bouncing to the floor with a quiet thwup. He rights the stack again with both arms now locked tight around the paperwork, and when he looks at you, heâs already wearing one of those sheepish, winded smiles.
âMorning sweetheart,â he says breathlessly. His voice is warm. Rough around the edges like he hasnât spoken yet today. âSorry Iâm late. Perry wanted the zoning report and the express line was⌠not express.â
You donât answer right away. Because his eyes flick toward your desk, specifically the coffee cup sitting at the edge of your keyboard. And the note stuck to its sleeve. He freezes. Just for a second. A micro-hesitation. One breath caught too long in his chest. Itâs nothing.
Except⌠itâs not.
Then he clears his throat, loud and awkward, like he swallowed gravel, and shuffles the stack in his arms like it suddenly needs reorganizing. âNew⌠uh, budget drafts,â he says quickly, eyes very intentionally not on the post-it. âI left the tag on that one by mistakeâignore the highlighter. I had a system. Kind of.â
You blink at him, watching his ears start to go red. ââŚYou okay?â
âOh, yeah,â he says, waving one hand too fast, almost drops everything again. âIâm fine, sweetheart. Just, you know. Monday.â
He flashes you the smile again, crooked, a little boyish, like he still isnât sure if he belongs here even after all this time. Thatâs always been the thing about Clark. He doesnât posture. Doesnât strut. Heâs got this open-face sincerity, like the world is still worth showing up for, even when it kicks you in the ribs.
And youâve seen him work. Heâs brilliant. Way too observant to be as clumsy as he pretends to be. But itâs charming. In that small-town, too-tall-for-his-own-good, mutters-puns-when-heâs-nervous kind of way.
You like him. Thatâs⌠not the problem. The problem isâŚ.He turns to walk past you, misjudges the distance, and thunks his thigh into the sharp edge of your desk with a grunt.
You flinch. âYou good?â
âYep.â He winces, but manages a thumbs-up. âJust, uh⌠recalibrating my ankles.â
Then heâs gone, retreating to the safe, familiar walls of his cubicle, still muttering to himself. Something about rechecking source notes and whether anyone notices when hyperlinks are one shade too blue.
Youâre left staring at the cup. At the note.
You run your thumb over the y again, the way it loops low and curls back. Thereâs something oddly familiar about the penmanship. Not perfect. Neat, but casual. Like whoever wrote it didnât plan to stop writing once they started. Like they meant it.
You donât say it aloud, not even to yourself, but the truth is whispering at the edge of your brain.
It looks like his. It feels like his. But no. That would beâ Clark Kent is thoughtful, sure. Heâs the kind of guy who remembers how you like your takeout and always lets you borrow his chargers. He holds elevators and never interrupts, and he stays late when you need someone to double-check your interview transcript even though itâs technically not his beat.
Heâs the kind of guy who brings you a jacket during late-night stakeouts without asking. Heâs the kind of guy who makes you laugh without trying. But he couldnât be the secret admirer.
âŚCould he?
You glance toward his cubicle. You canât see him, but you can feel him there. The way his presence always lingers, somehow warmer than everyone elseâs. Quieter.
You tuck the note into the back pocket of your notebook.
Just in case.
-
You forget about the note by lunch.
Mostly.
The newsroom doesnât really give you space to linger in your thoughts. Phones ringing, printers jamming, interns darting between desks like caffeinated ghosts. Itâs chaos, always is, and you thrive in it. But even as youâre skimming through edits and fixing a headline Jimmy typoâd into a minor war crime, part of your brain keeps circling back to that one y.
By the time you head back from a sandwich run with mustard on your sleeve and a half-dozen emails on your phone, thereâs another cup on your desk. Same order. No receipt. No name.
But this time, the note reads:
âThe line you cut in paragraph six was my favorite. About hope not being the same thing as naivety.â
You freeze mid-step, bag still dangling from one hand.Â
You hadnât published that line. You wrote it. Typed it, then stared at it for twenty minutes before deleting it. You thought it was too sentimental, too soft for the piece. You didnât want to seem like you were editorializing. And yet⌠it had meant something. Youâd loved that line.
And someone else had read it. Which meansâŚ
Your eyes flick up. Around.
The bullpen looks the same as always: fluorescent lights buzzing, keys clacking, the faint scent of stale coffee and fast food. Jimmyâs arguing with someone about lens filters. Lois is deep in a phone call, gesturing with a pen like she might stab whoeverâs on the other end.
And then Clark. Sitting at his desk, halfway behind the divider. Fiddling with his glasses like they wonât sit quite right on the bridge of his nose. He glances up at you and smiles. Soft. A little crooked. Familiar in a way that does something deeply unhelpful to your chest.
You stare for a second too long.
He blinks. Looks down quickly. Reaches for his pen, drops it, fumbles, curses under his breath. You see the top of his ears turning red.
Something inside you shifts. The notes are sweet, yes. But this is specific. This is someone who read your draft. Someone who noticed the cut line.
You never shared it outside your initial file. Not even with Lois. You almost didnât send it to copy at all. So⌠who the hell couldâve read it? How could they have seen it?Â
You return to your chair slowly, like it might help the pieces click into place. Your eyes catch the handwriting again.
The loops. The slight leftward tilt.
Clark does have neat handwriting. Youâve seen his notebook, all tidy bullet points and overly polite margin notes.
You tuck this note into your drawer. Next to the other one.
You donât say anything.
-
Later that afternoon, the newsroomâs background noise crescendos into something louder. Lois and Dan from editorial locked in another philosophical brawl about media framing. Youâre not part of the fight, but apparently your latest piece is.
âItâs fluffy,â Dan says, waving the printed article like it personally offended him. âIt doesnât do anything. Whatâs the point of it, other than making people feel things?â
You open your mouth, just barely, ready to defend yourself even though itâs exhausting. You donât get the chance. Clark beats you to it.
âI think it was insightful, actually,â he says from across the bullpen, voice louder than usual. âAnd emotionally resonant.â
The silence is sharp. Dan arches a brow. âListen, Kent. No one asked you.â
Clark straightens his tie. âWell, maybe they should.â
Now everyoneâs looking. Lois leans back in her chair, visibly suppressing a smile. Dan scoffs and mutters something about sentimentality being a plague.
You just stare at Clark. He meets your eyes, then seems to realize what heâs done and looks at his notebook like itâs suddenly the most fascinating object in the known universe.
Your heart does something inconvenient. Because now youâre wondering if it is him. Not just because he defended you, or because he could have somehow read the line that didnât make it to print, but because of the way he did it. The way his voice shook just a little. The way he looked furious on your behalf.
Clark is soft, yes. Awkward, often. But thereâs something sharp underneath it. A quiet kind of intensity that only shows up when it matters. Like someone whoâs spent a long time listening, and even longer choosing his moments.
You make a show of checking your notes. Pretending like your stomach didnât just flip. You donât look at him again. But you feel him looking.
tbr
CLARK KENT !!!
How I feel reading smut while being scared of intimacy in real life
looking at myself in the mirror after reading smut