not him, not the boy who blushes when you flirt too hard, who fumbles with his glasses and looks away when you wear anything tight. you always thought he’d be shy in bed—quiet, maybe, the kind to bite down on a groan and keep his eyes shut tight.
but the second your hips roll down on him—bare, slow, deliberate—clark gasps.
and then moans.
long and low, like it’s been punched out of him. like the sound was clawing its way up the whole time and just needed a reason to come out. his hands shoot to your waist and grip, hard. but it’s his voice that makes you stop.
“oh, gosh—” he chokes, jaw going slack.
you blink down at him, stunned, because he doesn’t stop.
every rock of your hips earns you something different. a groan that borders on a whimper. a gravel-deep grunt as his head tips back against the pillow. panting gasps that get louder, messier, when you clench around him on purpose just to hear them.
and you realize, breath hitching—
he’s so fucking loud.
and you love it.
“clark,” you breathe, leaning forward, kissing him just under the ear. “you always this vocal, or is it just me?”
he moans—high, broken, desperate—and grabs your hips again like he’s trying to slow you down but can’t. “just you,” he gasps. “just you, baby, i swear—”
you grin, dragging your fingers down his chest as you ride him harder.
— In which, jimmys potty mouth about his first time overstimulating his recent fling intrigues Clark & gets you in trouble.
Wc: 3.52k
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI) , cunnilingus, overstimulation, clark lowkey a freak, squirting!, first time for everything, p in v, slight dacryphilia (crying k!nk), use of nicknames, & smut.
৻ꪆ I was ovulating so bad while writing this bye. (Listening to my freak playlist didn’t help neither).
Clark had been distracted all day at the daily planet. But it wasn’t his fault, it was jimmys.
It wasn’t like jimmy meant to corrupt the man’s slightly innocent and sweet mind, but you know what they say; curiosity kills the cat.
It all started once jimmy began rambling on about his ‘smoking hot’ date he had last night. And clark being the good friend he was, he always chose to listen to what any of his friends had to tell him, even if they were crazy.
As jimmy rambled on, a sentence suddenly struck Clark. “She couldn’t stop shaking even after she came,” referring to the fun they had after leaving this really grotesque bar. Clark was more than intrigued now, his eyebrows quirking as he continued to type against his keyboard.
His tone was questionable—almost disturbed. “Go on..” eyes narrowing behind his glasses.
Jimmy could tell Clark was getting a little weirded out, but it was guy talk. Surely Clark had been through one of these conversations before—right?
“And so after she came, she asked for more, which I had never done by the way, and I just did,” he shrugged, finishing his sorting with the papers in his hands. “I just kept going.”
Clark stopped mid typing and turned his head toward him. “You what..?” He spun his chair to fully face him, Jimmy just nodded as if this was a normal thing. “Mhm, yeah. What, you never kept going after you and your girlfriend finished? Or while she finished?” Jimmys brows scrunching.
“No..?” Clark shook his head slowly as if it was an obvious thing. Jimmy just halted turning toward him slowly. “So you and— like never?” He was in utter disbelief as if was a common everyday thing. “Dude no, I just said no.” Clark explained before turning back toward his desk.
“You gotta try it with her Clark!” Jimmys eyes lighting up at the thought of his friend doing something intimate as if it was Clark’s first time. Clark’s eyes widen, turning toward him. “What—!? No, no, I will not ask my girlfriend if I can..if I can..”
“Overstimulate her.” Jimmy finishes.
“Thank you,” Clark huffs. “Overstimulate her. That’s embarrassing. Especially if that’s not her kinda thing.” - “but you don’t know thats not.” Jimmy shrugged.
“Jimmy, im not asking her that.” Clark’s voice was stern as he glared back at him. “Okay,” jimmy threw his arms up turning back toward his desk. “Jimmy.” Clark tilted his head.
“I didn’t say anything!”
Clark just turned back into his desk, cheeks and ears finally flushing freely. That was a crazy thing to even consider, but it did pique his interest. What would he even say if he were to ask you? ‘hey sweetheart, yeah, heard this crazy story from Jimmy today and I wanted to ask if you’d let me overstimulate you?’ God he was gonna choke slam Jimmy if he ever had a reason to.
That was forbidden to even do to women back on krypton, women were only allowed to do that to their husbands. Well— when it still existed..
He shook his head, just typing bullshit into a blank document while trying to clear his head of the suggestion. He did wonder though—what would you look like in that moment?
By the time he made it home, the thought was still clouding his mind, even as he shut his eyes, he kept making visual representations. What the hell was he thinking?
He didn’t even know if you’d enjoy something like that. Would you judge him for it or would you secretly or love the feeling proudly?
When he walked through the door it smelled of vanilla and there you were, sitting on the couch in this worn out Batman shirt clark bought a while ago, leg crossed over the other as you read, palm squished against your cheek, and toes wiggling in your socks.
His chest instantly filled with warmth upon seeing you. His favorite girl.
“Hi baby,” you greet, not even looking up from the book since you knew it was him. You always knew it was him when he came home by the sound of his oxfords or hero boots.
Clark fully stepped inside removing his jacket, eyes already full of hunger although he tried (horribly) to mask it. “Hey sweetheart,” He began heading toward the room, but not without placing a kiss on your head as he passed the couch.
He could feel the hard on growing in his pants.
Gosh clark, get it together.
As he emerged from the room, blouse unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, he couldn’t help but look at you. God, what would you even look like in that predicament? He’d bet you look so pretty all fucked out and swol—
“You’re staring again.” You look up from your phone with no intent look, just acknowledging it, knocking him out of his thoughts.
“Can’t help it,” he answers simply, voice low and much rougher than he intended for it to be.
He sat beside you, hand trailing over one of your legs as he pulled one over his lap with ease, leaving you straddling his lap. His big and calloused hands sliding underneath your (his) shirt to rub circles on your thighs.
Your phone was off and thrown onto the far end of the couch at this point.
He just looked at you, eyes filled with admiration and fondness as he leaned in closer. You smile, a smile that quickly turned into a soft sigh as your lips found his, humming into his mouth as the kiss deepened fast. His tongue teased, running over yours more often, hands palming your ass through the thin fabric of your panties as he bit down on your bottom lip.
“Mm, Clark—“
“B-been thinking about you all day,” he murmured against your lips, kissing against your jaw, his bulge already straining against his slacks.
You tilt your head back, amused expression on your face as you smirk. “Obviously,” you giggle, pressing down on him slightly. “What’s going on with you huh?”
He hesitated, cheeks and ears flushing almost immediately before he spoke. “Can I tell you something?” he mumbles. “Anything.” You hum, hands resting on the back of his neck.
“Well..today at work, Jimmy was telling me about how his date went the other night,” Clark began. Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. “Uh huh..?”
“And uhm..” he cleared his throat, scratching the back his neck. “Uh..well, he told me how he made his date cum more than once..like over and over,” he finally confesses, as if he did it.
“An-and he said she was shaking a lot too…like so much that she—squirted..” his voice lowering as he continued, every word filling him with embarrassment.
You just blinked, then just burst into complete laughter while your head sat on his shoulder. Why the hell would jimmy talk about something like that around your boyfriend?
Clark just sat there with his eyes narrowed as you lifted your head. “Whys that funny?”
“You seriously let Jimmy Olsen corrupt your brain? Out of all people?”
“I didn’t intend to!” Clark threw his arms up, eyes slightly widening. “He just started talking so I had to listen!”
“Clark, you don’t have to listen to him just because he’s your friend.” You cross your arms to which he huffs. “I know that,” he muttered, not agreeing with you deep down while his hands rested on your thighs. “I only brought it up because..well- I uh—I wanted to try it. With you.”
Well that was uncalled for.
Your laughter instantly died at his tone, stomach doing flips. Clark had never been this open about what he wanted when it came to sex or being intimate in general with you, so you just blinked before slowly nodding. “..okay.”
You lean in for a kiss, pulling back ever so slightly just to tease a bit before actually catching his mouth in a warm and passionate kiss.
He hummed against your lips, hands roaming as he squeezed your thighs and ass to try and pull you impossibly closer. He shifted, hips grinding to meet yours before lifting the both of you from the couch, headed to the bedroom—not once breaking the kiss.
Your legs wrapped around him in an instant, moaning into his mouth as your hands roam his hair whilst he laid the both of you down.
He was quick. Swiftly pulling off your damp panties while you unbuttoned his slacks (he took the belt off earlier since this was his goal).
But he was getting a bit too eager to know just what this would be like, so he ripped his blouse open, buttons flying everywhere before he removed it and threw it wherever before pouncing on you again.
The kiss deepened further, tongue swirling against yours before he pulled back to attack your neck. His hand ran underneath your shirt, fondling with one of your nipples, squeezing and twirling just to elicit whimpers from your mouth. He pulled away, hand traveling down your body toward your hot and wet core.
He teased, index finger grazing over your folds which made you whine quietly and he just knew he was gonna love this.
He ran his thumb over your clit teasingly before he slid two thick digits into your fluttering cunt, a gasp flying from your mouth almost instantly.
“A-anh..”
He caught your lips again, kissing you like he was afraid it’d be his last time. Whenever you two got intimate your moans got him hard, even the smallest whines made him excited.
Your back arched, hips bucking into his hand, and you bit your lip so hard it could’ve bled. But Clark noticed your half assed moans, deciding to curl his fingers against your gummy walls. You whine automatically, rolling your hips against his fingers. “A-annh, fuck!”
His fingers plunged in and out of your pulsing entrance, pace starting to become unbearable although he just started, forcing choked moans and cries out of your mouth.
All he wanted to do was make his pretty girl feel good. And that’s what he was going to do.
He pulled his fingers out, a pop! following after. His thumb circled your clit, teasing before rubbing against your slit with his middle finger, flicking away.
“H-haa shiitt!” Your eyes rolled back as you whimpered, completely melted underneath Clark’s huge figure.
“Shh,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Stop cursin’ so much sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin as he slid his fingers back inside, being completely relentless as he twirled and scissored his fingers.
“O-oohh!” You cry out, grabbing his wrist. “M-m’not trying tooo!” Head pressing back against the pillow. “Fuck Clark!” You whine, hands searching for anything to grip onto as your back continuously arched off the bed.
This was driving him insane and he wasn’t even the one being touched right now.
He could tell you were close, he could literally see right through you. But that never stopped him from tearing up your insides, just made him angle his fingers a direction that made you squeal out, thighs closing around his hand as you held onto his wrist as if that was going to stop anything.
He had never done you like this.
He was quick to pull your legs apart again, curling his fingers even deeper than before. “Hnng—yesyes, m’coming—C-clark!”
Your thighs trembled as you saw white, squeezing his fingers so hard they might’ve been at risk of falling off.
You pant as your high came down, ready to push him away, but his head was already dipping down your body. You blink, wanting to say something but the thoughts quickly forgotten as he flattened his tongue against your pussy.
You whimpered loudly, his arms locking around your thighs.
“H-mph..c-clark wait..” You felt weird, so sensitive, and he just— just kept going.
His tongue swirled against your clit, nibbling on it softly as your body jerks into his mouth. He just smiled and you could tell, and it was fucking killing you.
He ate even slower, eliciting even louder and desperate moans from your lips. You fought your hardest not to grip his hair, arms just squirming around as you got lost in bliss.
He pulled your legs over his shoulders, groaning loudly. Did you always taste this good; this sweet?
You looked down for just a second, glancing at him and man, he was gone. Not once did he glance up at you, just kept eating. Eating like a man starved.
The sight made you even wetter, god, you’d fuck him right now if you could.
Your feet flexed helplessly against his shoulders as you cried out, hands finally flying toward his hair. You were so conflicted on whether or not to grip his pretty curls. Clark practically growled at the feeling of your hands in his hair but that quickly led to a groan once he felt you not pulling on it.
His tongue worked faster, dragging countless moans out of you, giving you a reason to pull on his hair.
What eventually got you to pull on it was when he began to stick his tongue in and out of your hole, making your back arch off the bed once more as both your hands became tight and full of soft coils.
“O-oh ye-yeahh..!” Your second orgasm flooded and washed over you as saw white for the second time, liquids oozing right onto Clark’s tongue. You whined at just how pretty he looked, dazed as if he was the one in your position right now. “O-okay, okay, m’done I—“
But Clark was nowhere near done himself.
He pushed your fluids back into your aching hole, sucking off whatever was left on his fingers.
“M’not done,” he breathed, licking his lips. Your cheeks heated, propped up on your elbows. “Wha?!” You pant faintly. “Im not done.” He repeats, looking you dead in the eye.
You almost—almost replied with something slick but he’s faster, licking a long stride from your entrance to your clit. “ungh!” You fall back down against the mattress, tugging on his hair.
Your thighs shook, wanting nothing more than to close around his head. But he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he’d get mad, but because he was stronger than you, and he knew you liked the size difference between the two of you.
He was slurping you up so good, your fingers ran through his hair as your hips shot up, crying out as you bit your lip. “Shit..”
You blink vigorously, teary eyed as you tried looking down at him.
You caught a glimpse before it got too blurry; his cheeks flushed and his jaw just moving continuously.
You were four rounds in now, all sweaty and your joints sore, and an aching cunt that was killing you with its constant throbbing. But clark wasnt fazed.
He was more..confused. Why hadn’t you reacted how he wanted yet? I mean yeah, he did drag four orgasms out of you, but he could drag way more outta you any other night if he wanted to with no problem!
He huffed, sitting up from in between your legs, chin and lips glistening. “Am I doing something wrong?” His voice full of actual concern.
You lay in front of him, limp but still full of energy and he could tell. Damned sexy extraterrestrial.
“Huh..?” You managed to breathe out, completely dazed. “Like— like why aren’t you-“ he made a fountain gesture with his hands. You shake your head.
“I dunno clark, you’re doing great obviously, I’m just not..” you mumble as you look at him. He was dumbfounded and irritated, man he really did not like this feeling.
“Uhm..uh, okay. Okay, hang tight sweetheart.” He got up from the bed, pulling you back up toward the headboard and pulled a pillow to the side.
He hovered over you once he was done, hands sprawled out right next to the sides of your head. “Maybe you just need some— some dick,” he murmured, pulling his slacks all the way down his legs as well as his boxers.
“Wait- what? No..clark-“
“It’s okay,” he kissed the corner of your mouth, rubbing his flustered cock in a bit of frustration. “Im gonna get you there, I promise.” His tone full of determination as he aligned his tip with your entrance.
And like always, the stretch was great. You cried out instantly, pushing him away which just made him grab your arm and put it over your head.
“u-unn..clark..” you whine, looking up at him, not even knowing what your doing to him in that moment. He bit back a pitiful groan, pushing inside even more.
“Gosh,” he growled. “damnit...pussys squeezing me so..well.” He gritted, bottoming out as he slammed his hips. You felt the air knocked out of your lungs as your eyes rolled back immediately.
He grabbed your thighs, pushing them against your torso as he placed your legs over his shoulders.
He was slow at first..but as time went on, he became faster and way more aggressive:
“Hold your legs,” he instructed as he aligned his tip again. “Baby I—“ - “hold ‘em. Please.” His tone firm with you for the first time ever. You whimper weakly, bringing your hands underneath your thighs, pulling them toward your breast, knees hitting your chest.
“Thank you pretty girl.” He smiled, grabbing the pillow he left to the side and placing it underneath your back.
That fucking smile.
He slid back into you with a pitiful moan, and honestly, it felt way different this time.
His hips rocked slowly, like he was actually feeling it this time. And there you were underneath him, mouth slack, tears streaming down your cheeks, lips so pretty and swollen.
“Mmn-“ he bites down on your shoulder, rocking much, much deeper than he was before, kissing your cervix.
“S’too much..goddammit clark—“ you hiss and he rolled his hips again, slowly speeding up.
You were throbbing so much, so sore, aching as if he wasn’t inside you right now.
Your back arched against the pillow, hair sticking to your skin at this point. You held him closer, clenching around him like you were scared he was gonna start levitating or something (it’s possible).
“Hnngh..” your skin felt like it was on fire, everything was hot, nerves lit up. He sped up, bottom lip in his mouth. He was focused.
So focused on just how good he knew he could make you feel.
Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer, his lips hovering above yours. You pulled him down even more, kissing him sloppily and full of love as you cried into his mouth, his pace speeding up and slowing down in rhythm, hitting that soft gummy spot in your walls repeatedly.
“M’right here baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Right here.” He laid a kiss upon your cheek as you cried out desperately.
Everything about him made you melt.
You shook your head, tears welling your eyes again as you felt that knot building in your stomach. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please don’t stop.”
But then— you felt too full.
The pressure was unbearable, your eyes widening quickly as you tried pushing him away. “C-clark, no, no. Wait— I gotta-gotta pee!”
But he didn’t stop.
He kept going, pushing deeper just to make your whimper in ecstasy.
“Clark, please, I can’t hold-“
You tried squirming away, babbling on about how it was too much, but clark kept rolling his damn hips, kissing your ankles. The pressure felt so tight, you begged him to stop, your voice breaking with every cry. “C-cant hold—hgh—hold it!” You stammer, eyes repeatedly rolling back.
“Clark!” A high, broken moan ripped from your chest, the pressure finally giving way, hot streams gushing out of your pussy with each thrust. Some of it shot up onto his washboard abs, and fuck you just knew he had the biggest smile on his face right now.
Your thighs shook violently, tears stinging your face as you attempted to hide it. “Aahnn—fuhh-!” you cried, clawing at his forearms, but the sounds only grew louder as he continued to thrust into you with no problem.
“Golly,” clark just groaned, his balls slapping against you one last time before he finally came, spilling hot loads into your puffy walls.
He collapsed on top of you, huffing slowly, trying to catch his breath. You lie beneath him, completely limp and spent.
“You did amazing sweetie..so good baby.” He cooed, lifting up ever so slightly to press a kiss to your temple.
You hum softly from his kiss, shaking uncontrollably, body twitching everywhere you could think of.
It gets quiet for a moment and Clark decides to be first to break it: “You uh..you think you can do that again but on my tongue this time pretty girl?” He murmurs, voice lowering with each word.
You just look at him, dumbfounded. Just blinking. “Im gonna fucking kill Jimmy.” You deadpan.
He winced, his voice faint now. “Please?”
kissmyglxck — don’t copy my work, ask to translate, & if you recreate anything pls tag me <3
summary: clark shows his love for your friendship in many ways. fetching your lunch, carrying your things for you, always being there when you need him- but who could have imagined it would include kissing you on the lips? every casual peck makes your head spin, your heart stammer; until one night, one lingering kiss finally answers all your questions… and then some.
clark kent x best friend ! reader
themes: soo much fluff. clark is hopelessly devoted to you, but you have no idea. you're a cutie who loves fashion. he is adorable, friends to lovers, funny, domestic clark always! barely proofread, but enjoy xx
You’re running late. Again.
For the fourth time this week, and it’s only a Wednesday.
It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not- nothing was going right to begin with, and the outfit you’d initially planned on wearing ended up hanging off your body like loose rags. You had to change three separate times, and still, you aren’t too pleased with how you look today.
The day is miserable- all rain and clouds and grey skies. There isn’t an ounce of sunshine to be seen, not even in you, because your typically upbeat personality has been taken and held hostage by the city around you.
“Perry’s gonna kill you.” Clark greets you, umbrella clutched in his free hand that he immediately holds over you as you join him. He slings your bag smoothly off your shoulder, hooking it over his own instead.
Together, you walk in unison; quick, and sharp, your shoulder bumping into his arm due to the height difference.
“Then we better hurry up, Kent.” you say back, earning a chuckle from him.
You walk through the rain, and you don’t notice the way he ducks his head outside of the umbrella completely. How you don’t veer off the jagged path ahead even though it usually pains you to walk in a straight line, because his hand is hovering on your lower back, careful, steady.
You don’t even question why, when you finally get through those double doors, Clark’s curls are almost soaked and you’re bone-dry.
The elevator ride to the top is comfortable, like it always is with Clark.
“How was your evening?”
“I ate ice cream for dinner,” you tell him absentmindedly, “And I rewatched The Devil Wears Prada.”
His eyebrow quirks up, “Must have missed my invite.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not in a different city last night fighting an intergalactic threat?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I watch the news.”
Clark smirks slightly. Never arrogant or cocky, just knowing. “I still would have come.”
You don’t say anything, busy straightening your shirt and wrapping your coat even tighter around you. When the elevator finally reaches the top of the skyscraper, you’re the first to step out, Clark directly in tow.
Your heels clack against the linoleum floor with a precision that can only come from someone with something to prove; in this case, the fact that you’re late for a good (nobody has to know the truth) reason. Lois looks up for a split second, nodding at you in acknowledgement.
Beside her, Jimmy grins. “What time do you call this?” he jokes.
“Got held up,” Clark lies. You smile inwardly, knowing he was perfectly on time; it was you who couldn’t decide on what to wear this morning, on what rings to pair with what necklaces.
You’d told Clark to go on; I’ll be like, thirty more minutes. I’ll just see you there! You’d said, but of course he refused to listen.
Someone barks your surname. They also bark Clark’s. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.
“Sorry, Perry.” You and Clark say in unison, his cheeks flushed crimson, yours still cold from the wind. Thankfully, Perry White seems to be in a good mood today; he just shakes his head in exasperation, a small mutter akin to tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum leaving his lips as he places another cigarette between them and turns around.
Clark pulls your chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before he does the same.
“Close call.” he mumbles, and you stifle a laugh.
It’s a busy day; one that stretches for far too long. You type until your eyes blur and you drink coffee until you can’t even taste the bitter burn of it anymore, but you’re focused.
You’re a great journalist, and you’ve chalked that down to be the very reason why Perry gives you so much grace. Why being late is a bump in the road instead of a fireable offense like it is for most people.
It’s Clark you have to thank for that; being his best friend certainly has it’s perks. He knows better than anyone how to charm the Planet’s infamous grump. Over time, you’ve learnt how to mimic him; be bashful when confronted about tardiness, especially by someone like Perry White, and you’re good to go.
After a couple hours of head-down, zipped lipped quiet, he finally breaks the silence.
“How you holding up?” Clark asks you, head hidden behind his own screen. You can’t see him, but you can envision his lips parting as he speaks, eyes trained on whatever word document he currently has open.
“Surviving. You?” you mumble, fingers wrapped around a yellow highlighter that has yet to land on the page. He lets out a chuckle.
“Counting down the seconds until lunch.”
“Are we going out today?” you pop your head around your monitor then, and Clark doesn’t skip a beat before doing the same.
The sight of him- especially after a long 121 minutes without it- makes something flutter dangerously in your stomach. His curls are unruly, piercing blue eyes only the slightest bit red as he looks at you.
You blink the feeling away, willing it to disappear and not come back for at least a little while.
“You want to? Or I could just grab us those bagels you like from the place ‘round the corner?”
“I can come with you,” you offer, but Clark shakes his head, the corners of his mouth upturned.
“No need. I’ve got you.”
You nod, a thankful smile spreading across your lips as you turn back to your desk. Of course, Clark does the same, and under the table you feel the tip of his shoes nudging against your foot.
Your smile only widens, though you try to hide it with a purse of your lips and a clench in your jaw.
It’s not that you have a crush on your best friend- absolutely not. Crushes, you’ve always believed, are for high schoolers; teenagers in faux love who believe that big, ugly bouquets mean romance, and cheesy, outlandish prom-posals equate to a lifetime of happiness.
No, you’re a little more pessimistic than that. And you’re a lot deeper in than that, because unfortunately for you, Clark Kent continues to be a shining example of the world’s most perfect boyfriend.
Minus the kissing. And the holding hands. Also the freakier stuff like sharing a bed, and hugging each other regularly- who ever said being in love was rational?
He’s kind. He’s patient. He waits hours for you to get ready and doesn’t even scold you for wasting his time, just smiles and stares at you like you’ve already done him the biggest favour by simply existing.
He knows your coffee order off by heart, grabs you a couple of sugars every time even though it’s sweet enough- just in case, he always says. He knows you like your bagels from Leon’s on Tuesdays but every other day, it’s Liberty’s or nothing.
Clark remembers. He cares. So deeply.
He is also in love with someone else.
“Just waiting for her to realise, I guess.” he’d told you once, when you asked him why he hadn’t dated anyone since Lois- all while holding a box of Christmas baubles you were picking from.
And he'd told you that he didn't need to date, not unless it was the person he wanted to be with forever. Clark Kent didn't do casual. To him, time was precious, and he simply had no interest in 'playing the field'.
Though even you had to admit; no matter how big the field, it would be very difficult for anyone on Clark’s future roster to compete with the brilliant Lois Lane.
“What if she never does?” you asked, gesturing for him to pass you another bauble to add to the tree.
It was mid-November, and a random chill in the air had you fixated on getting your decorations up ASAP. Naturally, Clark agreed, even playing pack-mule with you in the store as you collected everything caked in artificial frost and tinsel- even a brand-new tree that he held tucked under one arm as you ran up and down the aisles.
Clark simply smiled, eyes holding a shine as he watched you examine a fragile looking ornament, fingers twirling it in the light.
“She'll figure it out. She always does,” he’d said confidently, “One day.”
“What if she takes forever?”
Clark remained unfazed, “Then I’ll wait.” you just raised an eyebrow, dropping the topic immediately and trying to forget how deliciously romantic he sounded right then and there.
That, was six months ago.
And Clark has yet to introduce you to this mystery girl, has yet to even give you her name; you don’t even know what she looks like.
You supposed it was for the best. For now, you were happy living in blissful ignorance. Just until you got over this silly little love-crush of yours. Or, until you pushed yourself to finally start dating again and could finally forget about this whole thing.
You continue typing, the words blurring together incoherently. By the time 12:30pm comes around, your stomach is grumbling and it’s only the noise of everyone packing up for lunch that breaks your concentration.
Clark is already standing up from his desk, stretching those muscles of his that never go stiff, yet he does it anyway because it’s what everyone else does.
You lock eyes with him as he makes his way around the edges of the table.
“The usual?” he asks. You nod with a grateful smile.
“Please. Take my card-“ you’re already fumbling for your wallet, but Clark shakes his head firmly.
“No, it's alright. I’ll be back in ten.” He tells you, and before either of you can register what happens next, he leans down. Smoothly.
And gives you a peck on the lips.
It’s quick. It’s over within a split second. But it still happens; and when Clark pulls back without so much of a stunned look or an apology on his face, you swear you can still feel the plush skin of his lips on yours.
“Text me if you think of anything else you want.” he says coolly, as if he didn’t just short-circuit your entire being.
And he’s gone.
Just like that; he turns on his heel, nods goodbye to a gobsmacked Jimmy Olsen, and heads for the elevator. Leaving you; stunned, shocked, baffled, detonating in your seat.
You don’t move. For a long while, Jimmy mimicks you, eyes wide as his gaze darts between the elevator where Clark was and your desk, where you currently still are. And probably will be for days to come.
Eventually, he wheels his seat over to you.
“What was-“
“I don’t know.”
“Why did he-“
“I don’t know,” you swallow, and with a disbelieving shake of your head, you turn back to your desk, palms flat out on the table as a way of anchoring yourself to it. For a long while, Jimmy doesn’t speak, silently begging you to.
But you can’t. You physically can’t. Because it may have been an accident- it’s not unusual for Clark to give you a kiss on the forehead, an occasional one on the cheek if he’s feeling extra gratuitous. But on the lips?
Maybe he missed. Maybe, you turned your head without even realising it- and maybe, right now, he’s on his way to Liberty’s trying to come up with ways to end your friendship because he definitely knows now, if he didn’t before.
He knows, and he’s disgusted, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he came back with your bagel in a bag and a stern talking to about how you shouldn’t move your head when people lean in for cheek-kisses.
You decide you will never eat another bagel ever again in your entire life. You will be bagel-less and Clark Kent-less and best friend-less for the rest of time and it’s all because you couldn’t control yourself.
But you know you’re being stupid, because Clark is many things. Superman being the most important one of them- he catches rolling pencils before they can fall to the floor, nudges you gently out of the way when rain falls off outer stall canopies so you won’t get wet. He has reflexes that the normal man doesn’t. If you were to turn your head, he’d know, and he’d stop.
So why didn’t he stop?
You’re still frozen by the time he gets back. He has your bagels in their usual printed takeaway bag and he’s flushed from the cold, tie slightly crooked, glasses foggy and slipping down his nose.
He forgets to steady them, the grin on his face pointed so directly towards you that it distracts him completely.
Your eyes widen, hand shooting up instinctively just as they’re on the cusp of clattering to the floor. You push them up for him, the tip of your middle finger barely brushing against the bridge of his nose.
He smiles, crooked. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jimmy’s jaw on the floor.
“Thanks,” Clark says softly, and because your heart is going a million miles per minute, you just nod a reply back.
He sets the bagels on your desk, pulls his chair around to sit next to you.
“So,” he starts, getting the food out like he always does. You, first; he unwraps your bagel, sets your sauces out, and drapes a tissue across your lap. “What ice cream did you have last night?”
You tell him, carefully at first, reluctantly, like it wasn’t just vanilla and caramel. But Clark doesn’t catch on.
He just nods, attentive as always. He laughs when you make a joke, tells you in a hushed tone about his new friend in Gotham, Bruce Wayne. He’s an alright guy, bit serious though. And he wipes the corner of your mouth when you get a bit of ketchup on it. But he doesn’t bring up the kiss.
So, neither do you.
Clark keeps kissing you.
And you, well- all you can do is keep pretending you’re not actively malfunctioning every single time it happens.
At first you assume it’s a one-off. A strange, meteorological anomaly- like those fish that sometimes fall from the sky. Weird, very rare, and inexplicable.
But then he does it again the next day.
It’s the same routine: lunch break, Clark grabbing the food, you offering to pay, him refusing like always. Except now there’s a new beat to the choreography; one that involves him leaning in, cupping the side of your elbow like you’re made of spun glass, and giving you a very deliberate, very real peck on the lips before leaving. It’s gotten deeper since the first, you realise.
And every single time, you just sit there like someone unplugged you from the wall.
Jimmy has stopped pretending he isn’t watching. He mostly just gasps now. Out loud. Very dramatically.
Thursday, Clark arrives with two macchiatos and a cinnamon walnut pastry you mentioned liking once. You’re about to thank him when he dips forward and presses- there it is again- a warm, soft peck to your lips.
“Be right back,” he murmurs, like that is the casual part of this exchange.
This time, your confusion is so loud it actually echoes. Beside you, Jimmy drops his pen, and it rolls for three desks.
By Friday, you try to mentally prepare. You puff your cheeks out, slap them lightly, tell yourself that if he does it again, you will absolutely ask him what on earth is going on.
But of course, you don’t. You don’t ask your best friend anything.
Because the second he leans down and those soft lips brush yours in that infuriatingly tender, maddeningly gentle Clark-Kent way, your brain promptly ejects itself out the window.
He walks off, humming, as you slowly rotate in your chair like a malfunctioning Roomba.
Your head is foggy, filled with so many unanswered questions that somehow, feel so far from being said out loud.
Nothing’s changed, oddly enough. Clark still walks you home. Still hovers over your desk, helping you with rewrites and amendments. He still brings you lunch and spends Wednesday evenings watching re-runs with you in your apartment.
He just… kisses you, now. Pecks you, more like, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
And before you know it, days pass. Days turn into weeks, and naturally- predictably- it gets worse.
Or better. Or whatever this is.
Because now- now, Clark starts doing it not just before lunch. He no longer limits himself, and you still say nothing.
He kisses you goodbye when he heads home for the night.
Kisses you hello when you meet at the elevator in the morning.
He kisses you when he hands you a report you asked for.
And, he even kisses you when you complain about the printer.
Tiny, sweet, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pecks. Like he’s testing you. Like he’s waiting; for what, you don’t know, but what you do know is that you are very close to the brink of explosion.
By the time a whole month passes, your confusion has reached clinically concerning levels. Your Google search history is comical, an amalgamation of confusion and shock before you swiftly swapped to incognito;
do best friends kiss on lips??
signs of short term memory loss
am I hallucinating long-term?
long term hallucination symptoms
group long term hallucination
do kryptonian people greet each other with kiss
You search with a slight hunch, your entire body covering your phone screen in both fear and shame of someone seeing. You’re desperate; completely at your wits’ end, and Clark seems to be none the wiser.
But then, comes the moment everything changes.
It’s late. Everyone else has gone home, and the newsroom is buzzing only with low lights and the distant hum of the city outside.
It’s just you and Clark, finishing up an article he’s been helping you with.
You’re buried in revisions, your brains working in sync as you push through the exhaustion of the last few weeks. You and Clark had gotten better about leaving on time, but with deadlines closing in, staying late wasn’t really optional tonight.
You’re tired, very much so- to the point where pretending like you’re not bothered is a feat in itself. Clark is focused, glasses sliding down his nose as he leans over your shoulder to point at something on the screen.
And then- like it’s the easiest thing in the world- he tilts your chin gently with two fingers and gives you a slow, lingering kiss on the lips.
Not a peck this time. Not a blink.
A kiss.
A real, life-altering, friendship-make-or-breaking kiss that injects electricity in your veins and brings all your dead senses back to life. It’s wonderful. It’s passionate. And above all, it is scary.
You freeze. But instead of pulling back like he usually does, Clark stays there, lips pressed softly to yours, patient as ever. Waiting. Wanting in silence, for you to respond.
So, you do.
Your body moves before your brain can protest, before any part of you testifies against the very notion of giving in- your hand curls into the front of his shirt, you tilt upward, and suddenly you’re kissing him back.
Your lips are slow as they move together; at first, awkward. Then, the awkwardness melts into something familiar, something warm.
And finally, it turns absolutely, heart-stoppingly illegal.
Just waiting for her to realise, his words play over and over- incessant, like a broken record- in your mind.
One day.
You fit together perfectly, you and Clark. Your lips do all the work while your minds fight to catch up. He makes a tiny noise- a surprised, happy sound- and you swear you can feel his smile against your mouth.
You pull back first, breath uneven, eyes wide and stunned in a way you can’t even hide. Your hands are still fisted in the front of his shirt like you forgot to let go.
Your grip doesn't loosen on the fabric, too afraid to disrupt the moment you’re both suspended in.
Clark doesn’t move. He just watches you, chest rising slowly, hope written all over him. You can't speak, so you don't.
But something in your face- the shock, the realisation trying to break through and finally shake some sense into you- makes him smile.
It softens as he looks at you, folding into something heartbreakingly tender.
“I told you…” Clark murmurs softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the gentlest touch. His eyes graze your lips again, already hungry for more, “that you’d figure it out.”
i have a problem with overexplaining things and i really tried not to w this fic - tried something different!! hope you liked <33
first time sex with boyfriend!clark, inspired by the bed breaking scene in twilight.
no use of y/n
warnings: MDNI, smut, protected p!v sexual intercourse, mating press (can't stop wont stop), soft smut, planned first time sex, bed breaking, clark's accidental immobilization of reader,, rough sex, overall awkwardness.
pairing: long-term boyfriend!clark x girlfriend!reader
summary: you'd been officially dating clark kent since the senior formal at smallville high, but you've been inlove with him since you found out what love was. after countless trials and tribulations, targeted attacks due to your boyfriends... extraterrestrial abilites, you are finally going to fuck your beautiful boyfriend!
You can't recall a time in your life where you had sweat this much. The baby hairs on your forehead feel like they've been merged to the soft skin of your forehead like glue.
With your heartbeat going a thousand miles a minute, you are almost a hundred percent sure that if you glanced down at your chest, you would be able to physically see your beloved organ thumping in and out of your skin like a cartoon.
Soft groans leave your lips as you continue your mental and physical exertion. You glance over your apartment for the umpteenth time tonight, the soft glow or ten or so candles illuminating your space.
You take a deep breath in, the warm and comforting scent of vanilla and lemon drift through the air, tickling your senses. But having no amenity to your shaky nerves and sweaty palms.
It was meant to make the scene romantic, calming, so far it was doing an absolutely terrible job.
Off reflex, your eyes shift to the dusted-circular vintage styled clock that rests just above the crinkled cream paint of your wall.
The time 8:27 registers in your mind as you squint to read it, your mind recognizes that your boyfriend should grace the frame of your front door any minute now.
Almost as if on key, the familiar sound turning and clicking of the metal keyhole, bounces off the drywall of your living room. This is what you’ve been waiting for.
He’s home.
You watch as the door shoots open, all 6 feet and 4 inches of your beloved corn-fed farmalien farmboy stand in your shared doorway.
He stands and stares at you, hand still on his key in the door, as his eyes slowly register your figure in front of him.
As you stand in the middle of your living room, all shaved, and lathered in your favourite body oils and lotions, wearing the nightgown you had bought as a gag. The thin midnight blue colored silk, sit gracefully on your skin.
The now well-known sign for hope, placed just above your right breast.
Your nipples peak through the material in excitement of the anticipated events of tonight.
He only ever bought you the nightgown because it felt like a little joke between you too. But now, as he stands in the door way, frozen at the sight of you, accidentally squeezing the key in his hand into nothing but a metal rod with his bare hands, he curses himself. He curses the version of himself that just so happened to wander into the mall on an extra long lunch break. The version of himself who caught the familiar crest out of the corner of his eye and thought,
“Huh… maybe she’d like this.”
Because if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t be standing in front of you, slack jawed, like an idiot. With a raging hard on at the sight of you.
Your eyes drift away from his shocked facial expression, down to the crushed key in his bare hand, then lower, to the ever so prominent bulge in his khaki colored “reporter pants.”
Your audible “gulp” is what breaks the silence between the two of you, for you at least. Clark heard your wet heat slide against the matching blue lace panties you chose to wear, when you glanced down at his pants.
He had never heard something so profound before, he didn’t even know he could do that. He decides to make a mental note for later, to focus on the sound of his co-
“Y-yeah?” He tries, his voice coming out to quiet on his first attempt, obviously because of you.
You shift on your feet before addressing him again, taking just a moment to push down the thoughts of fear that swarmed in your mind like a heavy blizzard.
“Are you gonna come inside or just stand there?” you say the words carefully, a quiet fear festers deep in your mind that he might superspeed away the next time you blink.
“Ah- yes, yeah im, yeah of course”
He takes a moment before responding, then shakes his head at himself once he realizes how silly he must look right now.
This isn't like the two of you.
Well it is like him to be skittish and awkward but it's not like you. You too had a cycle, he would be his normal awkward clumsy farm raised self, and you’d tease him for it.
You wish that you could find it in yourself to crack this sexual tension with a joke. But everytime you try to will your mind towards forming an actual thought, your eyes drfit back down to your Clarks… area. Leaving you speechless.
You had seen it before, of course you had. Like just last week when an artificially intelligent supervillain beat Clark half way into the ground, just when the sun set.
You can still feel the void of fear that burrowed in your heart at the sight of your superman, bleeding into your new cream colored carpet. And of course you had seen it when the lust eventually overtook the both of you, encouraging you to parktake in… other things.
Not sex though, never sex. Until tonight that is.
You slowly moved towards your boyfriend until your chests were touching, and you could feel his rock hard chest against your peaked breasts. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you crane you head up a little, to gaze into those deep blue eyes of his. The only thing that has succeeded for the past something-teen years, in consistently calming your nerves.
You’d always found comfort in Clark. The hint of fresh wheat, layered under a sea of cedarwood sent that had followed him around since primary school. Or the way his eyes bored into yours now, like it looked hard enough, he could see into your mind and reveal what thoughts bubbled in your head.
Taking a deep breath in, you feel the calm that you only ever feel with him. Whether they were calming you before your first fourth grade clarinet assembly, or breathing air into your lungs before you propose your next wild story to your boss. Whatever it was, you would be fine, because you had Clark, your Clark.
“Are you still sure about this? Because I'm not sure I know how to control my powers during uh, I could hurt you.” He speaks in the same tone you spoke to him in earlier, like he’s scared he’ll scare you away. Your thighs subconsciously clench at the thought of being able to make Clark feel so good, he’s unable to control himself.
Now it's your turn to calm him down.
“Clark?”
He sighs before replying, feeling his fears now more than ever. “Yeah?”
“We’ll be fine, you won't hurt me. We've dealt with worse than this.” You joke, feeling his tightly wound muscles release some tension under your soft fingertips.
Clark brings his hand up under your chin, tilting it up towards him at the same he just barely leans over to connect your lips.
You sigh into him, the taste of coffee and a a Clark Kent flood your senses as the two of you try to remove each other's clothes, without disconnecting from each other.
Your mind feels like mush by the time you feel him back you up into the wall, kissing you deeper now, both of his large hands gracing the sides of your jaw.
By the time you blindly stumble into your bedroom, knocking over several items on your way, you are finally out of air. Pulling your face away from Clarks, to pull as much air into your lungs as possible, you give his face a look over again. His lips are flushed with a pinky tint that bleeds into his neck, an effect tended to have on him whenever you kiss like this.
Clark takes this break as an opportunity to set you down horizontally on your shared bed, impatiently ripping the buttons off his shirt in order to remove it before moving to connect your lips again.
He glides his tongue along your bottom lip, silently asking for access which you grant him by opening your mouth a little wider.
He trails his mouth away from yours, planting messy, lusted kisses to the right corner of your mouth. He continues to travel, his mouth finding the sharp edge of your jaw, before moving over to the side of your neck, just beneath your ear.
Kissing and sucking repeatedly, with your mouth free of his, you moan and whimper into the open space of your bedroom.
The sounds encourage him to grind his clothed bulge over your pulsing, lace covered heat. He groans into the soft skin of your neck, the sensation feeling too good to withhold himself.
Forcing himself to pry his lips off of your neck, he lowers himself down to your lower body. Grabbing a hold of the flimsy fabric, pushing it up to your upper thighs, to reveal your matching underwear. He lets out a sound that is dangerously close to a whimper at the sight of you. Making you eager to see his face. When you drag yourself up to your elbows, giving you a good view of him, you carefully track his movements.
Watching as he hooks a thumb around the lacy fabric, the feeling of his finger against your sensitive skin causing you to shiver, he drags it down your freshly shaved legs.
The sight of your bare cunt rendered his thoughts void. Forgetting what he was here to do, brings his hands to either side, and uses his thumbs to stretch your lower lips. The action gives him a clear view of you, he lets out a sigh of admiration.
Bringing his head closer, he plants a soft kiss against your aching bud, before licking a stripe down your middle, collecting your liquids in the process.
“C-Clark!” his action calls you to call out.
You watch as he brings his face away from you to meet your gaze.
“I’ve waited long enough! take your pants off please” You dont even recognise your tone as the words fly out of your mouth.
Lightly chuckling to himself, Clark leans off of you and begins to lower his own pants.
You take the time to pull the nightgown completely over your head, leaving you completely naked. By the time you had undressed your self, clark had aswell.
Okay, here we go, this is happening, you think to yourself, eyes trained on the length that sprang against your boyfriend's stomach upon release.
You watch him roll the condom over the glistening tip, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him pick up a condom, let alone open one.
Both of his large arms brace his body on the sides of your head, leaning down close enough for his dick to skim along your inner thigh. Your hips squirm at the action, Clark brings a hand from the side of your head and uses it to line his tip up with your entrance.
“Can- hm, Can I?” He asks, tone stumbling as he tries to get the words out.
Unable to speak, you nod quickly as a reply, eyes focused on the crinkle that forms when he draws his eyebrows together in seriousness.
You feel the stretch before anything else, the feeling causing you to wince. Upon hearing your discomfort, Clark stops immediately, dragging his gaze away from where you are connected and up to your eyes.
“Does that hurt? Should I stop?” His worried tone matching his equally worried expression as he speaks to you.
“No don’t, don’t stop” You squirm at the odd sensation, unsure as to why you feel like you need him to keep going, if the action was causing you pain.
Listening to you, he continues to push deeper inside of you, until the majority of his cock is buried in your warmth. The connection causes a strangled noise to leave both of you in synchronization.
“I’m gonna move now, is- are you-“
“Yeah, yes, please start moving baby” The words leave your mouth in a strangled plea and Clark obliges. Beginning to set a steady pace of moving his abnormally long length, in and out of you.
The once painful sensation quickly shifts into a pleasurable one. In response to this, your body squeezes Clark impossibly deeper inside of you.
Bringing his mouth up to kiss yours, Clark is interrupted by a moan that leaves him without his permission, the combined feelings overwhelming him.
“Fuckkk” He moans into your open mouth, burying his head in your neck as his thrust increases in pace.
Clark halts his movements, shifting the two of you into a new position. Before you can question, your knees are up to your chest and he is buried even deeper in you.
The new feeling causes you to moan loudly into his ear, with his cock moving in and out of you at an even faster rate and his base grinding against your sensitive bud, the combined sensations render your thoughts useless.
“you’re, really tight hnghh g-gosh…” he moans deeply into your skin
You couldn’t do anything if you wanted to. You've lost most feeling in your legs, because of his sheer body weight repeatedly crushing into you. Hitting so deep inside you, leaving you unable to form a sentence.
Shifting again, Clark grips the wooden pole bedframe, an attempt to stabilize himself. In his efforts, the bed crumbles on top of the both of you. Even then, his pace doesn’t let up for a second, just shifts. His large muscular frame protects you from debris, while also trapping you under his mercy.
“I- Shit, something- fuck somethings happening. I can’t” his tone worried once again, but his movements show no signs of stopping.
“it’s o-okay, you can come, I… I think i’m close too” You cut yourself off with a loud, pornographic moan, something you were sure you’d be embarrassed about if you could think right now.
Clark realizes that you don’t understand, and he isn’t sure how to tell you about the recognizable heat that is building behind his eyes as his climax approaches. He knows it’s coming, and he knows he should stop. He’ll, he should’ve stopped when the bed came down on both of you, but he can’t”
Pumping into you over and over, hitting that same spot inside you that makes you cry out, you feel yourself bubble over the edge. Crying out as you reach your climax, dragging Clark along with you.
Only this time is different, he’s never felt it like this. His heat vision continues to approach with his release, involuntarily shooting out his eyes as he releases his load into you. His hand shoots up to cover the flame releasing from him, vision obscured with a red heat haze and his hand, his heat vision flashing into his hand for the entire duration of his high.
He whimpers and groans in both pleasure and pain, just barely managing to shield you from the heat of his eyes. After his peak, he squeezes his eyes back shut, bringing both his pain and pleasure to a halt.
Both of you breathe heavily into the other, in disbelief of the events that just occurred. Not exactly how you had imagined it but you still wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Did… did you just?” Your broken voice breaks the silence first.
Clark remains frozen, mortification from his lack of control and the fear of hurting you flood back into his mind as the sex haze over his mind lifts.
On instinct, he raises himself off of you, too quickly. The speed of which he removes himself from you causes a whimper to leave your lips, another thing he curses himself for.
“I am so sorry baby, I don’t, I didn’t even-“ He speaks hurriedly as he rolls the condom off of himself and throws it in the trash. You curl into yourself, weirdly unable to move your legs.
You groaned in response to his apology, you had meant to tell him that what had just happened was the best experience of your life but, unfortunately you couldn’t form that sentence.
Ever so carefully, he brings his hands underneath your knees and neck, slowly lifting you from the broken mess that used to be your bed. Nuzzling into his strong naked shoulder, you blink, and you're in your bathroom.
Dimly lit by candles you had set earlier, you wince as he sets you down on the side of your tub wall, the cold metal feeling uncomfortable on your sticky thighs.
“Clark..” you speak slowly
“Yeah baby?” he over at you from where his head is poked under your bathroom sink, gathering materials to clean you up.
“I cant even move my legs right now” You say with an undertone of amusement in your voice.
The two of you erupt in a soft fit of giggles as you both glance back into your bedroom, the room completely wrecked. Clark moves over to you, kneeling in between your thighs, resting both his hands on opposite sides of your knees.
“Okay seriously, did I hurt you?” He says, doing that thing he always does, looking through your eyes into your thoughts.
“Clark, that was…” you trail off, recapping the events of the night. Leaving your boyfriend in nervous anticipation. “It was?” he asks shakily, in fear that you’ll finally decide dating an alien is too weird for you.
“Fucking amazing, Clark.” You say with a soft laugh.
The corner of his lips tilt up in that familiar dorky little smile that you know so well. “Always so crude…” he says to himself, slowly beginning to clean the liquids off your inner thighs.
Dating Clark isn’t perfect, and it never will be. But you know two things for sure. Number one, is that Clark Kent, Kal-el, Superman, whoever he is… Is your forever.
The second thing you know for sure is, you definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT, I DEEPLY APPRECIATE IT. FOLLOW FOR MORE.
• the kitchen scene looks a little different here…
• fucking while standing, and clark can’t seem to keep his hands off you
• clark loves to tease
• you tease clark back
• clark can’t help but fuck into you when you’re on top (w/ whimpering)
• clark slapping your pussy when you finally convince him to be rough
• riding clark’s thigh instead of his cock when you’re acting up (red k!clark probably) (cmnf)
• clark pays special attention to your little clit
• the lingerie stays on! (more rough!clark)
• you don’t waste a second after clocking out when the planet’s empty
• clark getting straight to business when you beg him to fuck you raw (breeding kink)
• (woc friendly) fucking clark on top, your back flush to his chest when you swear to him you’re strong enough to ride him and you can take it, only to give up when you’re out of energy, limp on his front
• riding him while he sucks on your tits +
another one!
• clark’s a little distracted on the road trip to ma and pa’s house
• clark fucking your on your side
• eyes on the screen baby, we’ve got until midnight to finish editing this paper
• the shit he’s sending you when you’re at work after he called in “sick” (he got his shit rocked on superman duties the previous night and now he’s lonely and needing your cunt to help heal him :( … )
a/n: damn i’m such a yapper when it comes to this man…and i need more woc-friendly links in the future
