NSFW 18+. MDNI.
CW: thigh riding, fem!reader, established relationship, praise (f receiving), dom!clark, sub!reader, light teasing, clark likes to watch you get off.
"There you go," CLARK KENT breathes, pressing his forehead against yours. His fingers curled against your hips. Sweat bead on your forehead as you used a slow motion to rock your center against his spandex clad thigh. With a shy gaze, you looked down to where your center connected with his thigh, the pure intimacy of him watching you like this was enough to send you spiraling.
When Clark walked in after saving Metropolis (yet again), you saw him slightly battered with dirt smeared across his face. Your first reaction should have been concern, but he was Superman after all. You hardly ever had to worry about his physical health. Instead of worry clouding your brain, arousal filled the pit of your stomach, and Clark could read your micro expressions like he was created to cater to your every whim.
"C'mere," the superhero spoke, a gentle domineering undertone laced in the words that sounded meshed together in your brain. It's how you ended up with each leg on either side of him, stripped down into nothing but your underwear as you found relief on Clark's muscular thigh.
Your nose scrunched as you rocked back and forth on his leg, and when he was sure you were experiencing pure bliss at the expense of just moving your core against his clothed thigh, Clark let out a teasing chuckle. There was something so addicting about getting you in this state— mind fuzzy, lips parted, eyes teary from the pleasure. Clark didn't even need to get himself off when watching you was a treat in itself.
"Makin' a mess on my suit," he teased. Light teasing was fine, but he didn't want you getting too self conscious on him. Not when he thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world. No. The most beautiful thing in the universe.
"Sorry," you mumbled, but the word came out slurred and nearly incoherent. If Clark didn't have super hearing, he probably wouldn't have been able to make out the jumbled syllables as an apology.
"Don't apologize, sweetheart," Clark leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth. With your heartbeat quickening at the sweet gesture, Clark stilled your rocking motion by tightening his thumb and forefinger around your hips. "Slow down, baby. I can hear your heart threatening to jump out of your chest."
Whines slipped from you at the loss of friction between your thighs. The ache of your orgasm was approaching quickly, and Clark stopping your movements was less than satisfactory. Using all your force, you tried to undermine him by bucking your hips back and forth. Unfortunately, Clark had more strength in his thumb and forefinger than you did in your entire body.
"Hey, hey," Clark used his other hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. He grabbed your pouty lips and gave you a pointed look. It wasn't often that he scolded you. On the contrary, he let you get away with too much. "When have I ever not let you finished?"
"Never," you whined, feeling a tad silly for the neediness clear in your voice.
"Let me take it from here," Clark commanded as he placed both his hands on either side of your hips, digging his fingers into the softness of your flesh with such a familiar ease. With a tight grip on you, he didn't let you rock against him. Instead, he controlled the motions, making sure you weren't overstimulating yourself too much on his thigh. "Good girl. I got ya."
Honing in on the way Clark's muscles moved under his suit made your mouth water. His biceps stiffened under his suit with each of his movements only making the spandex suit tighten to highlight what was underneath. Your eyes glistened with pure pleasure, you covered your mouth as Clark flexed his thigh underneath you. The feel of his muscles against your clit made you tense, and before you could warn him, or even try to stave off your orgasm, your panties were drenched with your climax.
"Let's get cleaned up," Clark pressed a kiss to your temple, then continued, "And then we can have some dinner."
brooo imagine you had crush on your ancestor’s enemy who then got cloned and then the clone hated you because you were fated to commit intergalactic genocide but you also had a crush on the clone too. And you were both boys
love is a fragile thing | clark kent being treated with care headcanon ˚｡⋆ ୨୧
if there is a thing that melts clark’s heart more than anything, it’s the way you treat him like a regular person. specially in ways you’re probably not aware of — things you do without thinking.
like treating him like he isn’t superpowered.
it’s not that you don’t know that he is superman or that you’re oblivious when it comes to kryptonian physiology, no. it’s not that you’re unaware of what his body can do. you’ve seen him lift a tank with his bare hands, take bullets that wouldn’t even scratch him, move faster than any human could follow. And still—you insist on treating him like this fragile little treasure, something precious you’re holding close.
personally, the thing that amuses him the most is you worrying that he’ll get hurt over small things, even with the both of you being fully aware that he wouldn’t, knowing full well that he’s indestructible.
like he might break with any damage.
“be careful” you tell him when he carries something heavy, even though it’s featherweight to him.
“careful, it’s hot” when he reaches for a dish straight from the oven—usually followed by that sharp look when he tries anyway.
“watch out for your head” when opening one of the upper kitchen cabinets and he’s standing way too close.
and then there’s the way you kiss him exactly where something hit him, like it hurt, like your lips could erase the imaginary pain.
like wait… you know he can withstand literally a nuclear blast, but you’re… treating him gently? he might mutter: “I… I’m not fragile. I can take it.” but the blush creeping up his neck gives him away.
one day he asked you about it directly and you simply replied “i don’t care how strong you are. I’ll still treat you with the respect and gentleness you deserve.”
he never brought it up again but the scene still replays in his head from time to time.
it’s just that you can’t seem to stop seeing him as a regular person, or treating him like one. you just can’t help seeing him as a man you can care for like anyone else.
every little caution, every little gesture—it’s not about fear. It’s about seeing him, really seeing him, as someone to love, not a hero to worship. and clark? he treasures it more than he can ever say. He’s equal parts bewildered and comforted.
'She always worries about that. That her powers could change my opinion. I doubt that. But if all she wants is a single question before she finally takes a step closer to me, to touch me, or just be in my space. I don't mind; one question for a touch.'
Kell-El, aka Superman X, and a young Superman from the second season of the Legion of Super-Heroes animated series (2006-2008).
Due to legal wrangling at the time over the ownership of Superboy (don't ask, it's too complicated for me to properly explain), the character was removed from DC Comics. Conner Kent/Kon-El, the clone of Superman who was the then-current Superboy, was killed off. Afterwards, other characters could only refer to him as Conner, never as Superboy. Heck, even DVDs of the live-action Superboy television series were pulled off the market.
Anyhoo, even though most other guys in the Legion had a name that ended in -boy or -lad, there could be no Superboy. Just young Superman. And Superman X, who was a clone just like Conner Kent, and even wore a costume very similar to Conner's.
“I’m meeting Rosana’s parents this weekend.” Clark needs to gather intel. So he talks to Rosana's best friend.
Xavier raises his eyebrows. “Wow she doesn’t like to let them out the basement often. Things must be getting serious.”
Clark thought city people were so strange. “She says they’re an acquired taste.” He uses quotation marks. “What does that mean?”
“Its hard to explain. I mean most of the time they're cool.” Then Xavier shrugs his shoulders. “But I’ve never been her boyfriend so…”
“What should I do to make them like me? Should I bring something?”
“Compliment her mom on…everything, especially her food. Cross your fingers and hope that Ingrid’s there so you don’t actually have to eat it. Just eat whatever Ingrid brings and just tell her mom you liked her food. And don’t make a big deal about enjoying Ingrid’s food. Her and Rosana have a…thing. Well they hate each other. In a sisterly way if you say a bad word about one to the other they will kick your ass next Tuesday.”
Clark squints. “Can you like write this down?”
-----
The doorbell rings. Rosana runs downstairs to answer it but her dad beats her to the door and throws up a hand. “Woah, whoah woah, Rosita. You can’t protect your boyfriend from me.”
Rosana puts her face on Ines' shoulder. Ines pats her shoulder sympathetically.
Mr. Ramos opens the door. Clark smiles that doppy smile, flowers in hand, nearly blocking the entire door.
“Has he always been this big?” Reina asks.
“Good evening sir, thank you for inviting me to your home.”
Clark and Mr. Ramos shake hands. Mr. Ramos steps aside to let Clark step in. He hands the flowers to Mrs. Ramos. “Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Ramos.”
Mrs. Ramos smiles. “Well aren’t you sweet. Where’d you find this one, Rosana?”
“We have a class together. But Xavier really introduced us.”
“Can Xavier do me next?” Ines, Rosana's sister, asks.
The family moves into the kitchen. Clark offers to help Mrs. Ramos set the table, getting Rosana and Ines a discouraging glance. “You’ve brought another Ingrid into our lives.” Ines sighs.
When everyone sits down, Mrs. Ramos asks Clark what he’s studying. Rosana cringes. “Journalism.”
“Oh you're a writer.” Rosana could tell her mom had tried not to sound judgmental.
“You expect to provide for a wife on a writer's salary.”
“Dad,” Rosana begs.
“Men are talking, Rosita.”
Clark cleared his throat. “Well actually sir, even though the written word is dying. There are a lot of new opportunities in publishing online. I’ve got an internship at the Daily Planet with a promising avenue into full time employment. The median salary there is $73,000/ yr.”
Mr. Ramos nods, satisfied.
“And I don’t need to be ‘supported’” Rosana cuts in. “I also go to college.” But everyone reacts as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Clark squeezes her hand under the table.
“So where are you from, Clark?” Mrs. Ramos asks.
“Kansas-” Rosana responds.
“Let the man speak, mija.”
Rosana throws her hands up. “My bad. I thought we were at Sunday dinner. Apparently it's an interview.”
“Open position. Rosana’s boyfriends,” Reina chimes in.
Ines jumps in. “Men under 5’10 need not apply.”
“Isn’t the place literally called Smalltown?” Rosana turns to Clark.
“Smallville,” Clark corrects.
“You were serious about that?” Reina asks. “I thought you were messing with us.”
“He showed it to me on google maps.”
“Wait wait wait,” Ines asks, “You own an Android?”
primera publicacion del año yippieeeeee, ah bueno, no me he visto gintama, pero me encontre esta escena y simplemente mi cerebro lo relaciono con superman x y no me resisti a hacer esto jajsja
