love language. clark kent x reader!
it’s the little things for clark. he’s a soft man, after all. a big soft man.
maybe it’s the way you look at him? or, wait, the way you hold onto his biceps? in awe of how big they are? or maybe it’s your compliments. you swear it just comes naturally, like you’re really not trying to just—come up with these.
or maybe it’s the kisses. clark leaving kisses on your forehead before heading to work, his cheek kisses when he’s running late. the kisses on your thighs, neck, collarbone, back… the way he prolongs them to taste you. “c’mere,” right before he holds you tight, ambushing you with kisses everywhere.
“this reminded me of you!” he video calls you to show you a plush, which happens to be in your favorite color. any time he’s just barely reminded of you, he finds an excuse to let you know! he’s smitten. “i’ll bring it home for you, yeah?” he has a big smile plastered on his face when he gets home, “see? it’s you!”
and the way he looks at you. hands all clammy. you’re just talking to him, going on and on about something that happened at work—and there he is. like a damn idiot. watching you adoringly. nodding along at whatever you’re saying, listening closely but also losing himself in you. he’s a munch.
and when you come home after blowing his phone up about how horrible your day had been, you find him. your favorite snacks splayed across the table, candles lit and the fireplace crackling. “got your texts,” he holds his phone up, scrolling through your frantic messages. “missed you.”
and the cooking. one of his many love languages. “come taste! tell me if i need to add anything.” he’ll make sure to get you a spoonful to make sure you love what he’s making. “more salt? got it. anything else? at all?”
and when you’re both in bed, your hands tangled in his dark curls, he whispers, “why can’t we stay here forever?”
god forbid he has a business trip.
he always needs you close by.
with love, dia.
