Superman X Male Reader - Tumblr Posts

Sweet Juice

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Content: Greek Mythology AU

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Clark, semi-public sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, drunken sex, skinny dipping, spit as lube, missionary position…

Summary: Your a member of Dionysus following and during a feast you meet a demigod son of Zeus, Clark, also known as the man of steel…

——

You were a lesser deity in a world filled with powerful gods, monsters and heroes. You were the son of the now famous naiad, Daphne. Unfortunately though your mother was no longer with you as she had been turned in to a laurel tree as a form of mercy.

It was considered mercy because the only other option she had was to be violated by Apollo, who was under the spell of Eros after an argument between the two. Apollo feeling bad about the whole ordeal apologised by finding you a place in the retinue of Dionysus and Ariadne.

You didn’t mind this as your duties were pretty much drink, dance, fuck, drink more and generally just to have a good time. It was just constant partying and celebration.

One night when the party had yet to start a visitor came for Dionysus. You were sat close to the god’s throne, you were petting one of his pet leopards when a strange man appeared and entered the god’s camp. He walked slowly towards the olympian. You noted his handsome appearance as he stopped in front of Dionysus.

”Lord Dionysus, you sent for me” the man said in a deep tone. ”I did” Dionysus confirmed before standing up saying loudly ”Everyone! Let me introduce to you to Clark, you may know him as the man of steel!… And also one of my younger half brothers”.

Dionysus followers broke out in cheers for the hero, who seemed slightly confused by the big welcoming. ”I’ve called him here to save us all from the cyclops that has been attacking in the night” Dionysus declared and everyone once again cheered.

”What?! You never told me of any cyclops?!” Clark asked agitated. ”Actually I didn’t tell you anything but you showed up anyway” Dionysus teased him. ”Why don’t you save them yourself?” Clark questioned. However Dionysus only responded with a simple ”Where’s the fun in that?”.

Clark looked irretated at Dionysus and said ”I will not be tricked in to fighting someone else’s battle”. Making the on looking crowd let out disappointed murmurs. Dionysus walked up to the hero and put a hand on his shoulder.

”Come on Clark, do us this favour and we’ll give you the biggest celebration you’ll experince in a life time, with the finest wine and feast, our best music and dancers and if you want you can take to bed anyone you fancy, we don’t judge” Dionysus offered.

Clark took a moment looking around at the crowd surrounding him until his eyes landed on you for a swift moment. He then turned back to Dionysus and said ”Very well, i shall do you this favour”. Once again the crowd including you broke out in cheers and applause for the demigod.

The very next day gifted Clark with a sword, armour and food by Dionysus as he and his followers saw off the hero on his way to save them from the threat of the cyclops.

I didn’t take long for Clark to return as he was back at the camp by next day. He came back in the afternoon covered from head to toe in dirt, dust and a little cyclops blood. Throwing the red painted sword by Dionysus feet.

”Well done” Dionysus complimented looking at the blood drenched sword. Dionysus then turned towards you ”Y/n, take our hero somewhere he can wash off” he commanded. ”Yes, lord Dionysus” you said with a quick bow. He then turned back to Clark and said ”When you return, we feast”.

You went and collected a basket with a bottle of scented oil, a strigil (a tool they used in ancient greece to wash themselves) and a new chiton. ”This way, my lord” you said to Clark and started guiding him through the forest. ”Please, just Clark is fine” he said humbly following you.

You guided him to a secluded pond. ”Impressive, how did you find this place so quickly?” Clark complimented. ”My mother was a naiad, it’s an instinct” you explained putting down the basket next to the pond.

”Would you like me to bring you anything else?” you asked Clark as he started undressing out of the dented armour and dirty chiton. ”You’ve already done enough for me, thank you” he said gentlemanly. Clark was now naked, revealing his muscled body and impressive manhood, which you tried not to look at.

He stepped down in the pond, the water reaching up to his hips. ”Why don’t you join me?” he suggested gesturing towards the water. ”I’d love too, but i have to help the others prepare everything for tonight” you said. ”Come on, only for a short time” Clark tempted. ”Okay” you said with a smile, taking off your chiton and sandals.

Clark watched your naked form with interest as you stepped down in to the water. ”See, it’s nice” Clark said starting to wash himself off using the scented oil you brought for him. You tried not to stare at his oiled up chest but you were 90% sure he caught you looking but he didn’t say anything, he only smirked.

You relaxed in the cool water for a while until you remembered you needed to get back to the others. You climbed out of the pond and started putting on your clothing once again. ”Thanks for the company, hope i’ll see you tonight” Clark said. ”Hope, i’ll see you too” you said and started walking through the forest back towards camp.

That night the music rang loudly through the forest as you celebrated the death of cyclops and your new hero, Clark. You drank and danced wildly with your friends. Some others were already passed out from drinking, some were gambling and playing games and one couple were fucking against a tree.

You saw Clark sitting on a pillow next to Dionysus talking, goblet in hand. You made your way over to the olympian and the demigod. ”Y/n” Dionysus exclaimed happily as he noted your presence. He patted a pillow next to him saying ”Come sit down”.

You took the offer sitting down next to the god, he made your empty goblet instantly refill and put an arm around you. ”I was just telling Clark of my inner circle” Dionysus revealed and continued ”Y/n, here you’ve met, he is my and Ariandne’s favourite attendant and friend” he said sweetly.

”Also he has a body as if sculpted by Pygmalion, carved and smoothed to absolute perfection. You should hope to have a look upon it someday” Dionysus said taking another sip from his goblet.

”Actually i already have” Clark stated boldly making Dionysus spill some wine on himself. ”Y/n, joined me for a swim in the pond” Clark explained making your cheeks heat up slightly. ”Is that so?” Dionysus questioned looking towards you.

”Well, i’ve got to go find Ariadne” Dionysus said getting up leaving you and Clark. ”Are you and Dionysus-?” Clark started but you cut him off saying ”No, he and Ariadne just have a very open relationship”. ”How has your night been?” you then questioned the hero.

”Enjoyable but i’ve never been much of a party person” he said then taking a sip from his cup. ”I get it, before i came here i wasn’t either” you told him and then got an idea. ”Wanna go for a walk for some peace and quiet?” you asked. ”Sure, i’d love too” Clark said and the two of you stood up and walked off in to the forest behind you bringing your goblets with you.

You walked and talked for a while, drinking until your goblets were didn’t have a single drop left in them. Dionysus must’ve brought out the strong stuff because you and Clark were stumbling around and slurring your speech, you were laughing loudly at each others stories, sitting very close together.

Finally the two of you ended up behind some bushes close by to the party. You started to passionately make out, you laying on your back in the soft grass and Clark on top of you. Clark tore open your chiton and undressed you, leaving your naked form beneath him.

He then took off his own clothes revealing his muscular body and his hard cock. Clark took his hand and brought it to your mouth, you sucked on his fingers to get them wet, then he brought his moist fingers to your enterance and started pushing finger inside you.

You let out a small gasp as Clark started to finger you open, he added another fiinger and then another until you were ready to take him. Clark spit in to his hand and rubbed it over his erect manhood.

”It’s time i claim my reward” Clark said spreading your legs, he lined himself up with you and started pushing his hard cock in to your warmth. Clark loved the seeing the face you made as his cock slowly filled you up.

”Fuck your so big” you hissed as the demigod was fully sheated deep inside you. He then slowy started moving pushing himself in and out of you as a wave of pleasure started washing over you.

Your legs were wrapped around Clark as he thrusted in to you. ”I’m gonna fuck your little nymph hole full with my seed” Clark groaned in to your ear and placed kisses all along your neck. The demigod started speeding up his thrusts.

”Clark, fuck yeah! Take me” you said in ecstasy grabbing at his back as he fucked your hole. Both of your bodies had started gleaming from sweat as he mounted you under the moonlight, as his reward for defeating the cyclops.

Clark’s thrusts became rougher as he wanted to take you like a real demigod would, he loved how your walls clenched around his thick cock. He brutally fucked you with all the strength of his godly heritage to bring you to your release.

You let out breathy moans as Clark pounded your gaping hole, thrusting against your prostate. You felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. You dug your nails in to the grass below as Clark’s cock made you see Mount Olympus.

”Clark, i’m gonna cum” you said panting heavily making Clark thrust deeper as he wanted to push you over the edge. Then your cock started spraying cum all over your and Clark’s stomachs. Clark’s own release was getting close.

”I’m gonna plant my seed deep inside you” Clark moaned and his rough thrusts became uneven and sloppy. Clark delivered one last deep stroke in to you and he erupted inside you, he flooding your insides with his cum.

Both of you panted heavily and Clark rolled over and layed next to you in the grass. ”You were amazing” Clark praised while softly stroking your cheek. The two of you then used your torn clothes as blankets as you cuddled close together and you both fell asleep under the starry sky.

---

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

---

small things like these.

pairing. clark kent x male reader.

word count. 12.2k.

summary. a moment like having a cup of overly-sweet, sugary coffee spill all over you was one of the reasons why you'd been charmed by a clumsy man named clark kent.

content warning. fluff, eventual smut, corenswet!clark, top!clark, bottom!reader, strangers to lovers, brief lois lane mention, yearning!friends, clark has a sweet tooth, kissing, rimming, blowjobs, praising, sweet verbal, size difference, body worship, breeding, sweet and passionate love-making!

a/n. i recommend listening to the normal people soundtrack while reading!

I: MAY.

It all started with a crash.

The smell of gasoline was poisoning. Cars were lined up like dominos, passing gas from one engine to another, and the scent was festering in Clark’s nostrils, its rotting smell seemingly quadrupled by the summer heat. That was the charm of the city. The smell, and the constant scream of car horns as traffic began piling up. In the eyes of his folks, Clark can see his Ma and Pa doubting his sanity had they ever witnessed Metropolis. His Ma would shake her head in disapproval at the size of his apartment, and his Pa would be overstimulated into disbelief as the trio held hands and swam their way through the swarm of people who were simultaneously being chased in pursuit by one reminder: 

FASTER! YOU’RE RUNNING LATE!

“Oh, crap—“ Hugging the coffee cup to his chest after switching arms, Clark rolled his sleeve up to check his watch. Quarter to nine. “Crap, crap, crap, crap!” Panic finally set in, charging Clark forward into the sunny abyss of office-workers.

This would be the last time he would grab coffee right before work. He’d paid for the consequences already by nearly missing his morning meeting multiple times. Heavy emphasis on nearly as his shoes would audibly skid from turning from one corner to another upon the race he had against the clock, as the slippery leather of his shoes would nearly make him take a tumble if he hadn’t corrected his footing once he began sprinting to his cubicle, and as he sat down in the uncomfortable seat of his chair, only to rise back up once Mr. White made his entrance, nearly missing roll-call. Out of relief, Clark would take a sip of his Frappuccino. The whipped cream deflated from the race, though its vanilla flavor was unaffected as the foam happily danced on his tongue, mixing deliciously with the sweetened coffee. he would feel himself replenished with energy the more sips he took. “Damn you…” He would gulp, licking the vanilla foam off his lips, repentant in his mutter, “Why do you taste so good? Right when I’m supposed to let you go, you reel me back in…”

Clark was a certified Metropolitan.

“Sorry—I’m sorry—‘Scuse me! Passing through—“ 

Nearly there. The man was a mountain of muscle, sturdy and well-knit upon first glance, but Clark used his muscles for good, to protect others in situations where they needed him for leverage, not to harm. Upon instinct, he turned a shoulder for a woman to pass through, sparing little contact, then another when a father chased after his kid. It was hectic, his cup of coffee almost losing his grasp in midst of the scuffle, but Clark managed to find a silver lining in the crowd in midst of the clock ticking: the revolving door to the Daily Planet, an entrance Clark has become irrevocably beholden to. 

“S-sorry!” 

A man yelled out, “Watch it, asshole!” In midst of bumping shoulders.Few met his height. Many would either desire to have his height, or to be in the arms of the man who towered over 6’4. Though, in the morning of Metropolis, most if not all deemed it a nuisance.

Breaking out of the herd of people, Clark felt liberated. His legs moved in larger steps, and his elbows spanned from his sides like how they normally should as he ran into the revolving door and pushed against the partition to turn. He checked his watch again. Three minutes left. “Come on, come on—“ One hand squeezed his cup of coffee, and the other clasped his ID badge. His fingers felt slippery from the condensation of his drink, so he squeezed harder, pacing forward to the elevator, then faster when the elevator opened with only a single patron, you, occupying the space.

Faster. 

Clark’s thighs were on fire. 

His watch, two minutes.

Faster. Almost there. 

Clark let out one last breath as he was nearing, holding it out in preparation to stop the elevator door from closing. A relief of a smile came to spread across his face when it opened to accommodate his charging entrance from a few feet away. Usually, he was met by an expression of irritation by anybody who was occupying the elevator, but you looked bewildered, your eyes opening wide milliseconds later upon realization. 

Fear, as your mouth opened to shout, “W-wait! S-slow down!”

It was all in slow motion, watching your face contort to a various of expressions, and then nothing, as Clark clenched the cup of his drink with the force akin to batter hitting a home-run, popping the lid off the cup in process, and spilling the Frappuccino onto the frightened man, with extra vanilla whipped cream and all. All you needed as a cherry on top of your head, and you were ready to be sold as a Monday lunch special.

Maybe his beginner’s luck was running out of flame.

II: MAY.

Luckily, not many people seemed to use the bathroom in the morning. They must’ve gotten it all out of their system before coming to work. You were bent over the sink, wiping your face with god-knows how many paper towels.

“Just my luck…” You grumbled, squinting at your reflection in the mirror as you wiped the corners of your eyes, then your forehead, and then your ears. No matter how many times you’d lave your face with water, you felt sticky, gross, and worst of all, you looked like a mess. You still had your hair and clothes to clean, the smell of vanilla syrup sickening to your nose. The latter was definitely going to require an insane amount of bleach and arm grease to get the coffee stain off.

The door swung open not too long after, and in came the culprit who’d painted your clothes in brown and white, wide-eyed and panicked like he was searching for a lost puppy, then apologetic and defenseless as if he was the puppy that ran away.

“Shoot, I’m so, so, so sorry—“ He brought his hands to his head, pulling at the messy dark curls of his hair. You side-eyed him, responding with nothing but silence, and then a crinkle of the paper towel as you squeezed out the water. 

“Save it.” Your tone was pointed, though you didn’t necessarily mean for it to come across as aggressive as it did. It was already a bad start to your day. Your milk expired, you ran out of frozen breakfast food, and the bakery you liked to visit in the mornings temporarily closed for renovations. All forewarnings to this very moment, where you had been cleaning whipped cream out of your hair. You held out another damp paper towel towards the man, and then waved it when he simply stared, or rather embarrassingly gawked at the mess he had created. “Get my neck.”

“Y-yeah… Of course.”

Silence. You weren’t sure how long you two have been at it, but you’ve managed to fill the trash can half-way with the paper towels. In complete, utterly awkward silence. His touch was delicate, the paper towel gently cascading over your neck in small swipes, even though you’d shown him that you were more than capable to pierce through him with your glare alone. Laser beams would ricochet off your reflection, bounce off the tiled walls of the bathroom, and somehow strike him through the heart and tear that oversized vest right off of his large frame.

The anger only settled when the man repeated his nth apology, moving onto wipe your hair clean. You closed your eyes to calm yourself, breathing out a deep sigh, because it was a mistake. You were having a bad start to your day, and… so was he? Wouldn’t be a surprise. Mondays were notorious in fucking up the week.

“It’s… fine. Not like you meant to do that.” You looked at him through the reflection, his brows scrunched from hyper-fixating on every lock of hair that was blessed with his whipped cream. Was he always this handsome? And why is he towering over you? Why is he so close? 

“Who gets a Frappe in the morning though?”

“I—Black coffee doesn’t really help me stay awake.” A nervous laughter now that you were making conversation with him. It was the complete opposite of how he physically looked. A sheep in wolf’s clothing. “Nor does it taste that good.” He muttered, cleaning the last lock of your hair.

“I would tell you to watch your sugar, but I’m guessing… you got that down?” You didn’t mean to make a comment on his broad body, but the difference in stature was laughable. “(M/N). You?”

“I-Uh, Clark. Clark Kent.” He washed his hands in the sink next to you, lips opening to what you could presume to be another apology. You’ve only met him for fifteen minutes, but you were beginning to catch his habits.

“Okay, Clark.” You stepped forward, crossing your arms, and you could feel the rattle of his gaze as he glanced at you from the reflection. “I work downstairs, at the gift shop. You can apologize by bringing me lunch for a month straight.”

“Wait—A month?! T-that’s kind of expensive, don’t you think—“

“Hey, you can make it yourself. Get it from the supermarket. Scraps from a restaurant’s garage bin nearby. I don’t really care.” You leaned against the counter, stifling a smile as Clark looked rather charming flustered like this. “If you were really sorry, you’d be committed to making up for it nonetheless.”

“That’s a little extreme for someone you don’t know…?”

You shrugged, then turned on your heel. “Spilling a drink on someone isn’t exactly an ideal way to introduce yourself, you know.” Dusting your fingers of water droplets, you began your exit. “Also, I need a new shirt.”

“W-wait—“

“See ya, Mark!”

“It’s Clark!”

Maybe his luck was just beginning.

III: JULY.

“So…? Ready to guess?” The smile on Clark’s face was filled with anticipation. He watched you chew the contents in your mouth in an obnoxiously poised manner, an inside joke between the two of you as you two had been binging on cooking competition shows. You tilted your head in thought like the pretentious judge on one of those shows, pausing mid-chew like something strange had collided with your tastebuds, then continued as if it had faded away. “Come on, I’m dying here.”

You swallowed, taking a sip of water to wash down the bread. “Hey, I need more than a bite to figure the ingredients out!”

“(M/N), you’ve practically eaten half of the sandwich already.” Clark took his half of the sandwich and sank his teeth into the pillowy bread. 

“Look who’s talking.” You rolled a piece of white bread in between your thumb and index finger until it formed a ball, and playfully threw it at Clark’s shoulder. “I didn’t get to eat dinner last night.”

It was a strange feeling in Clark when you said that. His chest swelled a little, as if his heart kicked it from within. “Why’s that?” He slowed his chewing to clear his ears, putting aside his tastebuds for his attention.

“Well, they’re expanding the gift shop, so they’re asking me to work longer hours to help out. No one else said yes, and I need the money, so there was no question about it, you know?” He watched you dust off your fingers on a napkin. He knew of your habits now. Take a sip of your water, which you did, then fully settle your arms onto the table, unabashedly gazing into his eyes to give your tastebuds a break. His eyes altered to the tip of your tongue, peeking out to lick a crumb off your lip, and Clark mirrored onto himself.

It was a secret vaulted in the deep abyss of Clark’s stomach - well, not so much considering Jimmy liked to run his mouth - but your eyes were his favorite parts about you. Even when they were seemingly set aflame on the day he’d met you, your orbs have since had a way to reel him in like bait and never seemed to have let go. He would find himself free-falling into what soon felt closer to home with every second that would pass by.

“Doesn’t mean you have to skip dinner, though.” 

There was a breeze. Gentle and swaying like the jazz music playing in the balcony of the café. It sifted through your hair like sugar would through fine mesh. One got caught on a few strands—wind— and it blew back to recognize your features with the sun, beaming on features that Clark would someday have the courage to say he adored.

“Why? You thinking about bringing me dinner too?” He doesn’t like that you tease him so effortlessly. Clark also doesn’t like how easily flustered he gets, which prompts the cycle of teasing to begin with. 

With hesitation, he tried it himself once, saying something about how you looked good enough to eat or something when you styled your hair back for a change. Though, what came out was something along the lines of: “You look like you eat good enough,” and Clark would rather forget that interaction even happening.

“Haven’t stopped bringing you lunch, if you think about it.” The memory of his first meeting with you brought a smile to his lips, and yours as well, because you two tend to sync thoughts. 

“Yeah, two months now… When’s that going to stop?”

“It’s a routine now. I don’t think I can find it in me to suddenly stop feeding you.”

“Hm, you’d make a good boyfriend, Clark.”

“Yeah…”

IV: AUGUST.

“Nervous?” 

The powdery top note of your hairspray tickled your senses. You counted in your head, holding back a layer of Clark’s hair in your palm. One, two, three, four… Once you reached thirty, you released, sealing the pushed back fringe in place with another layer of the grooming product. 

“How can you tell? Do I look nervous?!” He’d been chewing on his lip, playing with his fingers, moving in his seat. It was like a toddler, but unlike a toddler, Clark was an adult. An adult who had enough awareness to refrain from making any sudden movements while someone had a scalding hot styling iron in their hand.

“Clark, you haven’t stopped shaking your leg since you sat down—“ You delicately pulled a curly strand to the front of his forehead, and it was another reminder how easily Clark could pursue a career in Hollywood. If only journalism hadn’t been such a strong passion for him. Though, with the way his nerves had been electrifying his body—maybe he made the right call in the end.

“Oh—Sorry… I’m just—I don’t know. What if I mess up? I say the wrong thing to Lois, and then she hates me forever? Then what? She tells the entire office about what a terrible—”

“Whoa, I think you’re thinking way too far ahead here. What happened to you being Mister Optimistic all the time?” You ushered him to get up from the seat, and then handed Clark his dress shirt and tie. “Besides, I don’t think Lois would do that. If you like her, that must mean she has some type of soul.”

“I guess so.” Clark muttered, changing into his shirt. Perfectly tailored to his body contrary to the oversized button-downs he was used to wearing. “You wanna hang out after?”

“Uh… you sure you’re going to be free? And not… you know,” Your brows raised, giving Clark a knowing look, and it was that flush of skin that you secretly adored coming in hot, boiling on the apples of his cheeks as Clark quickly deciphered what you meant.

“I don’t sleep with people on the first date, (M/N).” It was priceless. The horror on Clark’s face upon the accusation, his orbs retracting like he’d seen a spaceship landing on earth for the first time. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his confession while tidying up his living room. 

“I know a lot of people do! I just had to make sure.” You waited on the couch as Clark changed, replying to missed messages, scrolling through updates on multiple social media accounts, until you heard Clark approach from behind.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat, announcing his presence, and you turned upon the sound. “Looks okay?”

It was Clark.

It was Clark, but a more refined version of him. Not that he was sloppy in the first place, but simply… you could see him clearer, his own confidence radiating like it had finally discovered an escape to its freedom. His eyes, clear blues that sparkled even when the approaching night began casting shadows through his blinds and onto his glasses. It helped that you styled his hair back too, framing his face for the whole world to admire, and most importantly, for his date to as well. You reminded him to stand tall, and he took that into consideration through his posture straightening, and his chin raising.

“Y-yeah, you look… great.” It was infectious. His smile while he admired himself through his mirror. His dimples smiled back at him, and you felt your own lips curling on their own, like you’ve eaten a candy that was too sweet for its own good. “Lois is going to love it.”

Cavity-inducing.

“Yeah? Oh—I have to pick her up soon. So, you’ll be here, right?! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if it goes well—“ Clark let out one last breath, then a shake of his arms, and he found his nerves rattling up again despite as he approached the door.

Ten steps closer than before to Lois.

“It’ll go well, I promise!” It was his moment. Clark’s moment. Yet, you felt weird about it. You wanted to look at him for longer, a sudden greed to keep him in his apartment for longer.

“All right… wish me luck.” He turned to look back at you, appreciative in his smile, but his eyes looked guilty, meaningfully longing akin to the way he had looked when he spilled his drink on you.

That’s right.

“Good luck.” Apologetic, you remembered when he finally exited the room, and closed it shut.

Clark gave you cavities.

And like all cavities, you needed to get rid of them.

You needed to get rid of Clark.

V: DECEMBER.

It was partially his fault, wasn’t it?

There was no doubt in mind that you and Clark have been spending less time together. Clark was never a big texter, but he found himself messaging you a lot more often to make up for the fact that he had rarely seen you the past few weeks. Lunch was spent with Lois, dinner was with Lois, drinks were with Lois, binge-watching TV… with Lois.

“You’re always talking about Lois…”

It was why he preferred meeting up, because you never answered your phone, especially these days. If he was lucky, you’d spare him more than four messages a day before saying goodnight.

You never liked saying goodnight, and neither did Clark. By preference, Clark liked to fall asleep on the phone with you where he would catch your snores, and the embarrassment of it all would keep you awake for a little longer, at least until it was Clark’s turn to retiring for the night. It felt safe, knowing that he wasn’t - to some extent - alone in his bed. That he could mumble your name in his sleep, and you’d toss in bed, his voice ricocheting off into your own dreams.

It felt intimate.

“Hey, give me a call whenever you get back. Lois and I found this really cool aquarium you’d really like! I got a turtle keychain for you too.”

“(M/N)? Hey, I totally forgot about dinner last night! Work’s gotten so busy, and then Lois wanted to go out, and my parents were calling, so—Let me make it up to you? We can go to that diner you’ve been talking about.”

“Hey, (M/N)! Didn’t see you at the shop today… Doing okay? Not sure if you got the sandwich I left for you on the counter. Or maybe someone had stolen it. But text me? Let me know?”

“It’s Clark. Why am I telling you—I saw you the other day, but… you seemed like you were in a rush? I’m guessing renovation is taking a toll on you? Give me a call…”

“Hey, uh… Listen, If I did something… Will you let me know, please? I-I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening here, between us, but… I just. I miss—”

Clark didn’t want to seem obsessive. Absolutely not. 

But this was getting out-of-hand. He was panicking. He’d been panicking for the past few weeks since this whole charade had started. It was only right for him to worry like this, about his best friend. To go from aligning his lunch breaks with yours to sitting stone-faced at his cubicle with a half-eaten sandwich in his Tupperware was a huge disruption to his routine. It was like the world had turned against him in solidarity. Knowing his own mind, Clark deserved it.

There had been a farrago of missteps, too many of them to count, for Clark to simply shrug it off and see the silver lining through them for the next day, for the next week, or for the next month. It wasn’t like before he’d met you, where he would simply get caught in a long line of office workers waiting for their coffee, and then received a free pastry because they had messed up his order twice. Or how he would sleep through his alarms, where his body clock fortunately alerted him awake before traffic would begin to dominate the streets. 

No, this was different.

He’d earned a raise since then, for his great work on profiling the Superman, but it was all he did now. When it wasn’t Superman, it was being Superman, and Clark wished there was someone to talk to. To celebrate with, now that he can splurge a bit more on himself. To vent towards, about how it was obvious that he’d been holding Lois back since their relationship started. To shout with while he watched a movie because the killer had been in the main character’s house all along. To lament towards, because Lois had called it quits, yet in spite of that, it wasn’t as painful as the way you had been treating him. To scream out the month’s omen with, because maintaining this double-life of his was wearing him down.

Moments of happiness, catapulting his memories of you with laughter and warmth, had felt like a wound. A piece of him was broken. He felt hollowed out - a pineapple without its core - more so than ever, losing you as quickly as he had became friends with you, as quickly as he had fallen for you. Spineless, if he just watched you slip out his fingers and float away.

He needed to bring you back. He needed to tie you around his wrist like a balloon, like how his Ma and Pa would when they took him to the fair as a kid. At least if you float away again, he’d chase after you like he should’ve the first time.

If luck was on his side, you’d let him hold your hand and cruise the winter sky together. And if a miracle was in the palms of Clark Kent, he’d reckon voyaging the four seasons as one would turn over a new leaf.

VI: DECEMBER.

The air was frigid. The glass pane of your window shivered against the cold, frost webbing your reflection from corner to corner as you peered out into the city. Noses red and cheeks flushed, symptoms of the freezing cold as they endured the walk home. Careful steps across the sidewalk, into the street, as flakes of white fell to the earth. 

For an alien, it would summon silence. Those sparkling crests that would melt upon contact—an invasion they would yell in terror as the flakes seeped into their skin like acid. But for humans, people like you, it brought laughter. Giggles pierced the air, couples holding each other close to gather heat, but to also keep each other from slipping, and the world had only felt warmer despite the snow’s best efforts.

Your smile reflected off the joy radiating off of multiple passersby. Kids with their guardians. Dogs with their owners. Parents with their own parents. The holiday was nearing, spirits ramping in midst. As the streets emptied, leaving you in nothing but the cruel howl of the wind, you couldn’t bring yourself to caring about your favorite celebration. There was little need for your participation if you didn’t have anyone to spend it with.

To be completely honest, it was your fault.

Clark was happy. He was happy to have someone who shared the same interest in him. He was happy that Lois could bring the best out of him, either out of his work or out of his personal ambitions. Lois would make Clark the man his parents would be proud to see after silently agonizing over months on whether the city would be good for him. He was happy to share this new chapter in his life with you, and you had little patience to see him blossom.

You couldn’t bear it, knowing that it could’ve been you.

God, you were being childish. This felt like high school all over again, except… not really considering you weren’t out in high school. You’ve watched enough coming-of-age films to know that the audience would’ve deemed you immature. Worst of all, you would’ve vented to Clark about how foolish the main character was being.

Your romantic experience had been limited to silently crushing on guys in your classes to hooking up with strangers through an app. Maybe that explained why you were acting out. Why you preferred isolating yourself from the root of your happiness instead of surrounding yourself with it. When was the last time you were ever in love? With the family dog? With her puppies? No, actually in love… with a person, with a man.

“Fuck.” The ice cream in your mouth suddenly stung the back of your jaw the longer the spoon sat in your mouth. You’ve been looping Clark’s voice messages, debating on whether it was too late to reconcile, whether he was too upset at you to even want to have you step a foot inside of his apartment. 

“I miss you. I really miss you.”

You winced, groaning in discomfort, tensing your jaw as the voice message looped like some kind of hypnotic spell. “I miss you. I really miss you. Miss you. Miss. You. (M/N). I miss you.”

The sweetness bulldozed your molars. It was unbearable. You tended to your cheek, holding onto it as you hastily slipped on your coat and beanie.

Throbbing. Your gums.

Your hand yanked the door open, and you marched outside, into the blanket of snow.

Beating. Your heart. 

The cavity was returning, and you needed Clark’s help.

VII: DECEMBER.

Clark had mixed feelings seeing you at his doorstep.

This was not how it was supposed to go. He was the one that was supposed to be drenched from the snow. Shivering like an unkempt toy, with severed electrical currents making him twitch at the modest breeze, at the welcoming warmth. He peered down at you, where you met his gaze. Clark registered a broken and a contrite heart, and he could only respond in complete silence. Frozen in place because the visit was unexpected, but also because you made his heart swell to the point of nearing combustion, and it took all his might to control himself from pulling you into a hug.

“Hi.” You sniffed, wiping your runny nose. There was a stark contrast between your body temperature and Clark’s, he could feel the frost biting his own skin.

“Hi…” Clark took a step closer, but he couldn’t cross the distance between you and him, halting as if there was an ice barrier. No, control yourself, Clark. “I—Come in.”

A wet layer of skin; narrow hills from your eye bags, past the apple of your cheeks, and down to your chin. Crystals would form along your tears if you hadn’t insistent on wiping them clean. You never liked being vulnerable with him. With anyone, for that matter.

Clark stepped aside to welcome you in. You passed one glance at him, hesitant and apprehensive, but the warmth reeled you in, one shoe at a time. He was so close to you. Your arm nearly brushed against his, close enough as if it had almost nudged his elbow.

“You’re freezing—I-I’ll make some coffee.” He headed towards his kitchen, then paused to glance back at you, resembling the skittish reporter you first met as his indecisiveness staggered his following steps. “No, Tea? Hot water? I don’t know—“

“Clark, that can wait… Uh, how about we talk… first?” Clark could see it. He could see how you felt like a stranger in his apartment, a place he’d nearly asked you to move in as his roommate considering you spent so much time here. 

You carefully took off your coat, and Clark immediately went to your aide to gather it into his arms and put it on the coat rock. Though, not before letting the smell of your cologne linger in his nose, because god, he missed this. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s… talk.” He gestured towards his couch, tidying up the sweater that was beginning to feel constricting on his body.

Other than a tiny Christmas tree hiding in the corner of his living room, not much had changed. Everything was right where you’d last seen it, including a polaroid Clark took of you and taped to his ‘Wall of Memories.’

Out of instinct, you sat at your side of the couch, and Clark sat to the left, right beside you. Your palms ran over the cotton upholstery, then paused when your finger dipped into a ripped hole you had accidentally created when you two were watching a horror film.

“So… how are you?” Clark was staring. He didn’t mean to, but seeing you beside him felt… unreal. Maybe he was dreaming. The space next to your hand looked inviting, so his own hand naturally found its place, laying it there with his pinky finger barely grazing yours. You’re real. His pinky twitched when your finger brushed against the tip, and you pulled away. No, no. Come back.

“I’m good, well—long story, but…” You sighed, and Clark was patient as you took a moment to gather your thoughts. It was unlike you. Not that it was bad, but it was extremely attractive how outspoken you could be, especially regarding subjects you were passionate about. It was like you rode the ocean waves, swam with large strokes because you had a goal in mind, to convince Clark that mint chocolate chip was the best flavor of ice cream and whatnot.

“Before we catch up, I’m sorry… I don’t really know what I was doing, but it was my fault. I’m childish, I know that. I pushed you away because I was jealous… of Lois. And—please don’t hate me, but I hated how you looked at her. And how she looked at you.“ You breathed, your eyes casted downward like you were ashamed of being capable of human emotions. Then they clenched, because you heard how incredibly thoughtless you were being, yet that didn’t stop the tears from forming.

“And I was supposed to be happy for you, Clark. I mean, I knew I didn’t have a chance to be with you, but I somehow convinced myself that one day, you’d look at me with the same amount of affection you’d look at Lois. I would wait, and wait, and it was getting… painful. I mean, who am I kidding? I should’ve let you adjust first before growing impatient, but it felt like I was being replaced, and I was afraid of the inevitable, Clark—“

Now, you were floating. And out of fear, Clark felt his hand come alive, and spider close to your hand again. Tie him before it’s too late. It was up to Clark to change the trajectory of your descent. The pinkie that had lain next to your own crossed over and locked over yours. The barrier of ice that had been building between the two of you shattered into a million shard and he was frozen. A million of them pierced into Clark’s skin when he took your hand into his, and the clasp of your hand into his had bonded.

“Clark, what—“ Your eyes widened, letting in fragments of Christmas lights to highlight the glossy sheen of the tears welling in your sight. 

Without questioning it, Clark pulled you into his chest and felt the crumbled wetness stain his sweater. One by one, his fingers loosened to let go of your hand to support your body with his arms. Strong, thick arms wrapped around your body, fitted snug against you like a vest. There wasn't any resistance from your end, so he held you longer, then tighter in case you’d let go of him. 

It had never felt so good holding someone’s weight.

Two hearts pulsed against one another, and then as one as Clark buried his head into your neck in silence, while you rested your cheek against his shoulder. You clutched yearningly at his back, and Clark ran his palm over yours. Completely different motions, yet they told the same story, the same ending.

“I missed you.” In harmony, Clark’s voice mixed with yours. Clark often marveled at it, how often he came into sync with you as a pair. Another, when you mustered up the remaining energy to blindly breathe out a sweet laugh against his neck, and he followed, his soft lips inking your skin with a grin.

He didn’t want the hug to end, but it had to sooner or later. Clark needed to see you, as much as he needed to touch you. Releasing you from his hold, he settled for the middle. Large hands found their way back to the vacancy of your own pair and he leaned his forehead against yours, watching your eyes come back into focus as you gazed upwards, officially sharing his yearning.

“What are we doing, Clark?” It was dangerous. There was a heat to his cheeks that needed to connect with the one festering on your own. A dryness to your lips that needed a fresh paint of balm. Clark silently leaned closer, yet your gaze steadied, like you were silently anticipating something. “Lois…”

“We’re not together anymore.” He revealed once to his parents, and that was that. It was a strange feeling bringing up his relationship with Lois again, considering they’d both healed from it and moved on as friends. It was better that way, felt better too. 

Your lips parted for another question, but Clark was quick to answer. “November...”

“I’m sorry—“ Undeniably, Clark’s patience had run its course. He didn’t spare a single second for you to catch your breath. Instead, letting gravity pull the weight of his head until his nose pressed against yours. Multiple forewarning bumps to your septum that made you crease your nostrils, a charming expression he’d later marvel over. 

Clark allowed himself to sink further into you, applying all of his weight to push you back into the cushions of his couch to then finally capture your lips for one yearning kiss. It was cathartic. He’d wanted this for months. His mouth on yours, his hand into yours, and now that it was finally occurring, Clark wanted to savor the moment. Your body was reacting prosperously, opening your legs to close the distance between Clark’s body and yours. You wrapped them around his hips, condensing him groin to groin. Gentle tremors rattled down Clark’s spine as he pressed into you, mouth and hip, stirring wondrous feelings that ignited from the bonded bodies. First with the utmost uncertainty, then with a starry vehemence upon catching your delightful little sounds in his lips, in his mouth, on his tongue. He swallowed, releasing your hands to tuck his left beneath your head. A cushion, or a reminder to him, as his thumb carefully caressed your cheek, that this was real, that this was happening. You gasped, occupying your free hands around his neck because you felt yourself slipping. Whether it was off the couch, or from your original state of delusion, Clark was going to catch you no matter what.

“I love you.” Scratch that, he was never going to let you go. Not this time. You had no doubts about that as he repeated those three words into your mouth like you needed convincing, then kissed you again to lock his stubborn pleas in place. His glasses bumped against your face, but the feeling of his mouth on yours felt too good for you to complain.

A breather, you pulled away soon because Clark was stealing your oxygen, and you needed to tell him before you would embarrassingly faint from overdosing on the simplicity of his kisses. You took one look at him, gently pushing his head back before your hands had taken his cheeks hostage and cupped them, analyzing what made you fall for him in the first place. Thick dark curls that fell gently over his forehead. Clark’s eyes fluttered shut when your fingers ran through them, the pressure of his scalp gratifying like a long stretch in the morning. Wide frames that were too big for Clark’s face, but had he gone any smaller, they would’ve completely hid the beautiful blues of his eyes. You straightened the crook of his glasses, grinning because the bewildered look on his face resembled a puppy’s. His physical appearance made your heart skip more than a couple of beats, yes, but it wasn’t the main attribution to your attraction.

Your hand trailed from his neck, to his chest, then to his heart. Boiling, his heart was pulsating rapidly like yours, and you sighed.

Because it was here. This was why you fell in love with him.

“I love you.”

His heart was making popcorn, and the scorching heat was rising to Clark’s cheeks. “Thank, god.”

Clark pressed one kiss to each of your palm before leaning back into you, and continuing where he left off. Your laughter was eaten up by his mouth. Suddenly ticklish as Clark catapulted your lips with an uncontrollable laughter of his own. His body shook with yours, heart pounding at one’s chest to bond with the other as he held you close once again.

Nothing was funny. Just simply relieving.

Now tighter, drawing you into his arms when the collective laughter was enough for the couch to move a nudge and roll your intertwined bodies onto his floor. Clark could laugh all night long with you, something that could pull a world record if there was someone to verify the interaction, but something began aching inside of him when he was reminded of your hips against his, groins rubbing in simultaneous pleasure. He maintained his position on top of you, in between your legs, and seized the opportunity to press against you. When your laughter was interrupted with a stifled whimper, without a doubt, Clark was a goner.

“Can… I?” He leaned up, his curious palms on your inner thighs kept you spread on the floor. You watched inquisitively, anticipating, hardly masking it with a low-effort grin.

“Can you… what? Not sure what you’re asking, Clark.” Your elbows supported your body, leaning onto them as Clark bit his lips at your obvious teasing. You wiggled your hips while his hands did their best to avoid touching you there, anywhere but there, until you gave him permission. Chewing, because he was trying his best to control himself upon seeing your crotch twitch with agony.

“Come on…” His palms roamed the back of your thighs, then towards the front again, because he needed to occupy the anticipation of his sweaty hands. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not a reporter like you, Clark. Unfortunately, I was never good at deciphering clues or hints. You pulled him down by the collar of his vest, wrapping your legs back around his hips because you loved making him flustered. “Give it to me straight.”

“I—“ Clark surrendered at the touch of your lips on his. Gentle and sweeping, you kissed him like fall of snow, and he melted, whispering into your mouth, “I… want to make love to you.”

His voice registered sweet, in both mind and body. Your tastebuds bloomed when he kissed you again and slipped a tongue in without much warning. Your pants felt tighter as Clark began his antics again and ground himself against you, eagerly rubbing his larger bulge over your own. Clark was a growing cavity, festering right down to the root, but it was no longer painful.

It was indisputably pleasure.

“I’m all yours.”

There was something hidden in Clark’s gaze, something that his glasses had been unfairly shielding from you. You reached up to put aside his glasses and felt your breath hike when the quick glimpse of his gaze matched the avidity of his mark to your neck.

He refused to part from you. Even with the eagerness of stripping you, he needed to be in close proximity. Knit vests off, Clark returned to mark at your neck. Sweaters tossed, he quickly studied your figure and where you were most sensitive with his tongue and palms Wet and warm, you whimpered. Pants kicked, he helped you out of them while he clumsily stumbled out of his. Slow down, you’d laugh with him, and Clark would find his balance with a hug from you before he could embarrassingly take a tumble. A trail of clothing led to his bedroom, where you laid on the bed while Clark sat on his knees, decorating your entire body with the tiniest, yet wettest kisses. He palmed himself to this, squeezing his erection to the restricted pulsation of your own. Every time he ran a marathon of licks up your leg, your briefs twitched. Clark neared closer to your thighs, then inner thighs, every lap, and the twitching doubled.

“Clark…” It accidentally came out as a whine, and you were grateful that it did because you’d been keeping an eye on his clothed erection, watching it unfurl from a stuffy mass to an intimidating thick shaft where it began outgrowing his original side tuck and throb against his left thigh. It would be more than a handful, two if you were being pessimistic.

“Baby, be patient… I missed you.” The pet name came out of nowhere. They didn’t have nicknames for each other, but Clark felt good calling you that, and seeing how your cock began pulsating rapidly at the sound of his voice, he’d reckon it felt just as good hearing it for the first time.

After teasing you with multiple sequences of nearly kissing your bulge, Clark finally caved in and pressed his mouth to where the tip of your erection was hidden. Its location marked with a tantalizing wet spot that made him moan when he could taste your salty leakage through your briefs. Mouthing it, licking it, you watched Clark with an open-mouth, finding yourself mimicking his licks to the open air as you imagined his own erection was in your mouth. You played with your nipples, and it was heaven. You could get off to this. Clark could too, as he began rutting into the mattress, laving the center of your briefs with his wet tongue.

“I wish you could see yourself right now. You look so sexy, so…” Clark never finished his slurry of a sentence, clearly high off of his desire to ruin you. Your lids felt heavy, pinching and twirling your nipples to his languid mouthing like it was your lullaby. His voice came to a complete halt, a beat of silence that you’d come to query, until your eyes immediately widened at the warmth of his mouth surrounding your cock, finding your unspoken question answered.

“O-oh, Clark.. .That’s—mmf!” One hand was fondling your balls, while Clark’s other was stroking himself through his briefs after tossing your underwear to the carpet. His mouth was full. Warm and breached with your stiff shaft. His cheeks hollowed, and your body arced toward the ceiling as a result of holding your moans back. 

On the contrary, your body was trembling. Cold tremors electrified every bone in you as Clark explored your cock with his thick tongue, building your excitement to a rattle. He’d secure you in his mouth, sucking and refusing to let you go even when your fingers laced and pulled at his hair, a lazy attempt to push him off, but it only encouraged him to suck harder, lick at the underside of your cock, at your veins, swirling over the glossy tip, tasting the salt you’d produce solely for him, because of him. “S-stop, I’m going to come if you keep—“ 

“Sorry, you just taste so good…” Reluctantly, Clark pulled you out with a subtle pop, wiping his remaining saliva on the back of his hand. Your cock was twitching in a shiny coat of spit as you and him both watched his masterpiece of a tongue have its remaining effect on you.

“My turn…” It was a declaration. You crawled forward onto all fours while Clark watched in anticipation. He sat up on his knees upon you reaching for the waistband of his briefs. With a slow pull, his large erection sprang free with a heavy bounce, and your pupils dilated. “Jesus, Clark…” You removed his briefs, tossing it to join the floor, and he sat back on his knees while you marveled over his girth. Its size submitted you into silence. A tint of envy, but mainly of wonder as you couldn’t possibly imagine fitting him inside of you.

“Hey, you don’t have to…” Clark could see the fear in your eyes. The intimidation. Though, he would never admit that he was extremely turned on from watching your expression morph into utter astonishment. His cock, however, couldn’t care less. Thick and mighty veins blasted from the base of his raging hard-on to the very plump tip of the bulbous head. It was as equally as inviting as it was intimidating.

“I want to. I’m just… kind of jealous, that’s all.” You laughed to yourself, wrapping a firm grip around Clark’s shaft and watching in awe at how you couldn’t close your fingers around him, even when you had adjusted your hand. Clark’s cheeks were scalding. Was there an adjective to describe someone who was embarrassed, but extremely aroused right now? He’d have to look it up, but he was that. He watched how your mouth practically salivated for him, working him in slow strokes because you were careful not to anger this phenomenon of a creature.

“You’re perfect, wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Where would be the fun in all of this if we all looked the same?” You hummed at the comforting words, somewhat feeling guilty over your cock hardening over such a sweet consolation. 

Nonetheless, it wasn’t something you were going to dwell on. You knew Clark loved your body, he would’ve inhaled you whole if he could. As a token of appreciation, you nuzzled over the underside of his cock, lining gentle kisses over the veins that made you the hungry, desperate man you were displaying for him. “I love you.”

Clark would burn this image of you, drooling over the sight of his cock, over the tense of his muscles as you licked his abdomen, sucked at a birthmark on his hip, then hollowed your mouth out to accommodate his erection. “I love you.” He exhaled from his gut, nearly seeing the whites of his eyes as you didn’t spare a second in warming him up to your throat. 

“Baby, slow down… You’re going to choke—“

“Mmfggh—“ Sweet sounds. Delicious noises that made his spine tingle, that made his muscular chest puff up as it swelled with so much selfish pleasure. You looked up at him with such pureness, a determination that Clark was afraid to shatter if he made you stop, so he simply watched. Petting your head, brushing strands of your hair that threatened to obscure the parts he’d loved most about you. Your eyes sparked with glee as the salt of his cock watered your tastebuds. You let your hands roam free on his body. One palm admiring the toned muscles on his stomach, the other stroking the inches of flesh that haven’t been in your mouth yet.

Then, your eyes filled with tears, as you became overzealous from your mouth blooming with arousal and heat as you took more of Clark. Past the tip now, your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock to make room for his large shaft. Your cheeks hollowed while you sucked, and you could taste Clark leaking on your tongue again. Thick and salty pre-cum dancing over the bed of sprouts.

“Baby, careful…” Despite his warning, Clark couldn’t help but thrust every now and then into you.

It was difficult stuffing Clark inside of your mouth, but you proceeded. Further and further, you sank your head. Clark carefully held you while his gaze marveled at the warmth of your mouth. You’d splutter into a gag when you lodged him into the back of your throat, cramped and gratifying despite the tears in your eyes. Clark was quick to pull you back in case you choked on your own spit, and he knew you. He knew you were the type to take on a challenge. Before you could complain about him pulling you away, he brought you up for a kiss, meeting you half way as he bent forward. His hand was on your nape, tenderly massaging in case you pulled a muscle, and he smiled at your fluster when he pulled away. A thin line of spit connected the pair of lips, a display of devotion for one another. “You did so well.”

While Clark laid you on the bed once again and reached for lube out of his bedside drawer, you were kissing at the underside of his jaw. He’d left a mark on your neck, so it was only fair that you made your presence known as well. Your teeth nibbled on the stretch of skin as your lips wandered off to suck on a patch of skin on his neck. The smell of his body wash was strong in your nose when you buried your face into him, suckling until Clark’s neck had skipped the initial stage of turning pink, and instead, an ardent red. “Don’t finger me too much. I want to feel you.” Your cock throbbed in anticipation.

“No way, (M/N). I’m going to hurt you if I don’t.” He sealed off any potential retorts from you with a smooch to your lips, and then affectionately bumped his forehead to yours, sparing you a teasing smile. “And I promise you, you’d still feel me even if I spent an hour warming you up.”

Your heartbeat spiked.

You brought your knees up after he placed a pillow beneath your lower back. Clark took his sweet time lubing his fingers and erection. There was an obvious motive behind the gaze he’d spare you. A smugness in the curl of his calming smile. He made sure you were watching as he bucked his hips up when he slimed his cock with a glorious amount of lube. The remaining lubricant was used to lather your rim, and then the surface of your lips as he brought his hand up-close.

“It’s cake-flavored. Haven’t used it yet.“ Clark said with a laugh, pressing his lubed thumb to the center of your mouth.

“Of course it is. What’s with you and sweets?” Your lips parted to let your tongue peek out and take a swipe at the wet layer of his skin. Artificially sweet at first, but it wasn’t unpleasant enough to detract you away from it. After taking multiple samples of the lubricant, you closed your mouth around Clark’s thumb, and that was when the base notes hit your tongue. The scent of vanilla tingled your sinuses, as well as the artificial flavor of the sweet commodity spreading pleasantly on your tongue the more you sucked. It tasted more like marshmallows than a cake, but you weren’t complaining. You pushed his thumb out with your tongue and nodded in approval. “Tastes nice. Why do you need it to taste like cake though—“

“Because I like cake.” With a push of your thighs, Clark was back on his knees again. He haunched over to face your exposed entrance once you locked your arms around your legs, holding your knees to your chest. Then, he flattened his tongue over the smooth surface of your crack. One stripe to sample the quality of the flavor. Another to discover the depth of vanilla blossoming on his tongue. And then another few laps, because your bare flesh tasted infinitely better than whatever was mixed in that bottle of lube.

“Clark…” You wished you could properly watch him. For now, you had to settle on blindly watching the top of his head from the opening of your legs, dark curls bouncing as he eagerly devoured and lapped up the layer of lube that slicked up your opening. His tongue swirled over the rim of your hole, teasing at first, to sample you again, then he pressed his mouth to your entrance. The movement of his languid mouth nipping and mouthing made you pucker. It was an automatic reaction, you clenched, then opened, and Clark seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside of you, officially tasting you. “C-Clark! That’s—Mmf!”

Clark was under hypnosis. Everything that was said to him, that was plead towards him while he ate you out was drowned out by the sound of his slobbering. Two palms on your asscheeks stretched you out while Clark thrusted his tongue inside of you like daggers. When you clenched around his tongue, Clark pulled back to carefully push a lubed finger inside of you, spreading you back open. “I wish you could see this right now, (M/N). Your hole’s so pretty.” He looked up at you, lips beaten red and his fringe tousled, while he pumped two fingers inside of you now, smiling at the way your body had a mind of its own, floundering within your own hold, completely stripped of insanity and instead, disheveled over the smallest touch. “You look so pretty.” Your cock twitched in solidarity. 

For someone who made it seem like he absolutely got no action, Clark was a natural talent in pleasing you. His fingers were thick and deep inside of you, curling at various spots you hadn’t even brushed once in your lifetime. You bit your lip, writhing in suppressed arousal, and Clark would watch in awe as he simultaneously licked around your rim and thrusted his fingers inside of you. Three now, spreading, twisting, and churning in and out of you smoothly with the help of a fresh paint of lubricant. His thick pecs bounced with every draw of his fingers, sweat beginning to form over his neck and shoulders as the heat between you and him only escalated. He broke out into cold sweats, watching you unravel your sanity before his very eyes, and Clark was eager to be the cause of your destruction, for you to equally ruin him.

You’d let your legs collapse onto the bed a while ago, but it was fine, because once you were properly warmed up, Clark took matters into his own hands and balanced your feet over his shoulders, pulling out and orienting his hips before you. He slicked his cock in another layer of lubricant, the smell of vanilla mixing pleasantly with his arousal, and he leaned for a sweet, but confirming, pushing your knees towards your chest in the process.

“I love you.” He softly whispered into your mouth, forehead to forehead. Words of affection that you couldn’t possibly imagine growing tired of. Your stomach was in knots, your heart tugging one way, and then another, as you two shared a gaze. A silent one, but surely meaningful because you felt close to tearing, looking into his sweet, adoring eyes. It nearly ripped when he repeated those three words again in your ear, gentle like the kisses he was adorning the shell of your ear, ticklish like the way he had been tracing your rim with the tip of his cock.

“I love you…” It came out as a purr, and you gave his shoulders a loving squeeze. I’m all set.

Upon the completion of your breath, Clark pushed his hips forth. Slowly, you felt your hole opening. Wider, as it took in Clark’s hot pulse. Gasping, as it was a struggle to fit the head of his cock inside of you. Your body naturally reacted in pushing back the intrusion out of your body, swelling around the plump glans and clenching to prevent him from moving any further. “C-Clark—“

“M-mm, relax—“ He grunted in the depth of your mouth, distracting you with another open-mouthed kiss. But Clark was persistent. He was nearly there. One more push, and he was in. He used the back of your thighs as leverage, pushed your legs further back, and pushed with careful might. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to break through the barrier that refused to let you two bond. Clark was pushing. You were pushing back. It was a battle for territory, a toll on your body as you broke into cold sweats. You inhaled at the increasing soreness, but nonetheless endured because you’d endured worse. 

You’d lived through the loneliness that was your life without Clark, and that was absolutely unbearable compared to this. The thought of spending eternity with him reconciled you with near pleasure. You two would go on to do everything together. Holding hands with him in public would be a no-brainer as you helped him shop for a new suit. You’d celebrate his promotion over dinner, either homemade or a fancy restaurant, because Clark deserved the luxury of life. And if all things go well, he’d reward you for staying by his side and supporting him with a ring. Nothing too grand or magnificent, because you were never too keen for the lifestyle of the wealth. And knowing Clark, he’d ramble about how he could buy another engagement ring if you weren’t happy with it, completely forgetting to ask you about the inevitable: Will you marry me?

Exhaling once more, you brought a hand to his nape and gently pushed his forehead to yours. Then his nose squished with yours when you felt your body arched off the bed in response to Clark finally breaching inside of you with one tantalizing thrust, goosebumps fluttering over your skin and amplifying the soreness by tenfold. “H-hh! Clark!” You choked out, straining your neck as your body felt like it was burning. Scalding with pleasure and pain all at once.

“I got you. I got you, baby…” Clark slipped an arm beneath you, cushioning your body when gravity pushed you back onto the bed. He began lathering your neck in pacifying kisses, stilling his hips while doing so. “Doing so well, doing so good. You feel so good, you know that? You make me feel so good.” Clark was drunk on the grasp you had around his cock. So tight, you felt so tight, and he anticipated what you’d feel like beyond the first few inches of him.

“You’re okay?” For moments now, he’d been kissing you to divert your attention from the pain. Wiping beads of sweat off your face with the back of his hand. Massaging your chest and playing with your nipples. Anything to get your body to relax. Though, the most effective remedy was when he gazed into your eyes and rambled. Clark knew that. He felt your muscles loosen when he’d make a silly joke, or when he’d bring up a memory about losing his shoe at work. Touching was the easiest effort and you loved the weight of his palms on you, but you were most sentimental about Clark finding other ways to temporarily shift your mind to a sanctuary. All in all, the power of his humility was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m okay… Just been a while.” Your lips slurred against his, kissing Clark again, extremely appreciative of his patience. “Think I’m all good now. You can move.” You confirmed with a gentle pat to his cheek.

“I’ll make you feel good.” It was a promise.

Clark kissed at your ear. “I’ll make you feel like you won’t want to stop when we’re about to end.” A symptom.

His lips moved to your neck. You shivered at the ghosting of his mouth, of his tongue, before he’d rightfully claim another spot on your neck as his own. 

Clark reeled his hips back until only the tip was left inside of you. You whimpered at the emerging heat, but it was beginning to become bearable.

“I’ll make you feel like you were made for me.” You felt yourself split into two when Clark brought himself forward. A gasp slipped when you felt your hole stretch. And then continued to push itself to its limits as he worked himself inside of you with gentle and subtle thrusts, until Clark was an inch deeper. The grasp you had on his shoulders was extreme, egg-shell white as the sweat in your palms threatened to loosen your grip. The husk in his voice trembled while you swelled around him. Rapid pulsations embraced the thick veins of his cock, seemingly massaging him out of appreciation, a token of your gratitude because pleasure had finally materialized in the loss of your agony.

The toned muscles of Clark’s thighs slapped into the back of your sweaty thighs with every thrust. A salacious sound that wouldn’t cease. Louder. Harder, when Clark was comfortable enough to properly move inside of you. “Because you are.”

Properly stir your insides. Your face said it all. Your sight blasted as you watched Clark with dilated pupils, mouth agape like you had better counter to the flattery of the man’s words. Instead, you found yourself choking back on them. Words. They would’ve been affectionate words. They came out as stifled moans because it was embarrassing for Clark to see you like this. Grunts when Clark lodged himself deeper inside of you. He was just as motivated by a challenge as you were. The challenge of making all sorts of delightful noises fall from your mouth out of your own will.

Sweat dripped off of him like he’d just returned from a blacksmith.  A sweltering fire would heat him up. Not to burn him, but to make him pliable enough for the blacksmith to shape the perfect man out of Clark’s flesh and bone. A chisel to carve out the deep dips in his upper traps, where your palms loved occupying. Another at his waist, where you’d hold Clark to help him dig you deeper. Then a hammer, used to forge the sturdy muscles on his athletic body. Deep hills and valley, crafted over his pecs and abdomen to let his sweat drain onto your body.

“You’re made for me, as much as I’m made for you.” Clark murmured.

A vow.

With that, Clark mounted you, both of his palms grounded to the space by your shoulders to stabilize his catapulted position. He pushed his full weight on top of you. Your legs folded towards your chest, alongside the sink of his body, until your knees signaled the end of their mobility. A kiss to your left calf to keep you alert, a bite to the other to warn, and Clark propelled his hips forward without the intention to stop. Further and further, your mouth and eyes widening as he tunneled through your contraction, until his cock was deeply-rooted fully inside of your hole. Clark settled himself inside of you with a yearning groan, and you retaliated with staggered cry.

“C-Clark, I feel so… full. Honey, fuck—” Your skin prickled with goosebumps knowing that Clark had fully breached your hole. There was no doubt about that, yet your hand snuck down to blindly confirm the achievement, to see if you could slot your hand between his pelvis and your ass. But Clark was pressed flushed against you. No gaps. Only the thick hairs of his pubic region came into contact with your fingers, and your cock twitched.

You were completely and utterly full to overflowing.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. You feel so good. So warm. So… tight.” Clark huffed out a few breaths and slid his cock nearly out before slamming it back into you. 

“U-uh-huh.” You panted at the sight of his arousal. How gratifying it was to Clark, being inside of you, to the point where his eyes would roll back, and then feel the need to slow his deep thrusts, because he was close. You could tell. You could feel his cock throbbing harder. Veins hotfooting a nearing high as you stimulated his aching muscle, and you were stroking your leaking dick to the feeling.

“I love this… I love you. I love making love to you.” His cock hammered your insides, the thick head of it raking past your sweet spot. It made your cock tremble, your glans crying out with thick, teary pre-cum. When your moans hiccuped a pitch, Clark realized he had mined gold.

“C-Clark, I love you—“ Your firm cock slid through your closed fist every time he moved, the creaking of bed springs following every motion of his thrust. It wouldn’t be long before you made a complete mess on your body. “Oh, god—“ Clark clasped his mouth around your tongue, greedy to feel your moans ricochet off the walls of his cheeks, and into the depth of his throat. Veins charged his arms as he pinned your hips to the bed. You were floating, higher and higher. The roam of your hands, over his sweaty pecs, his shoulders, his neck, his abdominal muscles, his arms—you were stimulating Clark’s body so he doesn’t stop. Motivating him to blind you with his devotion, starry skies and all.

“P-Please, Clark. God, that’s so good. You feel so—“ Forehead to forehead now, Clark was watching you passionately through heavy lids, alternating his gaze from the silent plea in your eyes, to the beaten and swollen muscle of cock in your jerking fist. All while he throbbed inside of you, overwhelming you with the pulsating of his thick cock veins, making love to your hole with the refusal to stretch his approaching climax.

So close, you were so close. You held Clark by his neck with one hand, and refused to let him pull away.

Faster and faster, his cock consistently drilled into your prostate, drumming against it with a deep swivel of his hips and more, until you couldn’t hold back your cries. Your pulse raced as your cock twitched with your heartbeat, speeding the flicks of your wrist to outpace Clark’s thrusts. 

It was a tense battle to see who’d erupt first. Harder. Harder. Faster. You were a mess, and so was he. You made him a mess. A drunk intoxicated by carnal desire. Sweat clung onto his fringe, yet he had never looked so attractive, powering into you like a madman, impaling you with his love, with his devotion, with all of his might, brute force, through gritted teeth. You gripped him hard by his biceps, unsure of whether your cries of pleasure were heard between the thunderous sound of his thighs connecting to your asscheeks and the creaking of bed springs. You took a chance to cry out again, to warn him that you were close. 

“C-Clark, I’m going to come…” The bubbling feeling had been too irresistible to delay any longer. Clark locked eyes with you upon your alert, and groaned. His tongue came out to skim the bottom of your lip, and you strained forward to cover his mouth with yours, sealing the pair of lips in a slow kiss, contrary to the rapid rhythm that had overtaken the rest of your body, and it stole your breath and made you all dizzy. Your cock only needed three more pumps.

Clark panted a few quick breaths, bracing his body in anticipation by clutching onto your hips until his fingers had turned white. “Want to see you come from my cock…” What you heard in his murmur was beyond want. 

It was need.

Two. 

You reminded Clark that you were going to come.

One. 

His forehead pressed hard against yours, and he switched his gaze to your jerking fist.

“Clark—“

“Let it out. Show me how much you love me.”

You yanked your hand a millisecond before the inevitable, and Clark watched in pure bliss, maintaining his thrusts as your cock erupted with white. Thick shots of cum catapulted across your body with the aid of Clark’s thrusts drilling semen out of you. Layers of creamy ropes messily inked your body from abdomen to chest, and that was all it took for Clark to spill his load inside of you. 

His hand like claws on your waist, he pummeled your insides for a few more seconds, delivering your ass with powerful thrusts, and you sobbed out in between breaths, clutching a bundle of his hair in both fists. Finally, Clark grunted, unloading himself inside of you with a scalding bite to your lips. You felt his cock pump, his balls jolting as it drained itself inside of your cavity, filling you up with an unspoken affirmation that you were his. He pushed his cum deep into your hole, powering through the cold tremors overhauling his body, and resumed thrusting inside of you. 

Shallow and slow, but enough to spread himself all over your walls. Enough to remind you of the memory when you had been claimed as his, in case you’d ever forget.

You shuddered, dropping your legs to wrap them around his waist, because you could never forget. Couldn’t if you had tried. Not when he was milking his orgasm into you, dumping his warm seed into your hypersensitive hole until he filled you to the brim. Not when you prevented him from pulling out, because you pressed the heel of your feet into his lower back, and countered his thrusts with swivels of your pelvis, gluing him shut to you. 

Until you were bonded to him.

“I love you…” Lethargy in his voice, his eyes closed. Clark worked so hard, and you immediately rewarded him with a slow kiss, embracing him close to you after.

“I love you.” He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, evidently gratified by your response as you felt the corners of his lips tug into a smile. You murmured sweet praises in his ear, petting the back of his head to calm the electrical currents stimulating his body.

“We… have a lot of catching up to do, by the way.” Clark suddenly spoke, and your eyes weakly opened, inquisitive over the strange tone in his voice.

It was also funny. How absolutely massive the man was, yet in your arms, he was cuddling up to you as if he wasn’t aware of his own weight plastering you.

“Yeah? Something on your mind, or you wanna save that for tomorrow?” You idly twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, windmilling it out of affection.

“I mean, I guess so? It’s been on my mind since we’ve met. And it’s been killing me on the inside.” The stubble on his chin tickled you when he lifted his head to look at you. The expression on his face suddenly made his warning seem all the more significant.

Concerning, as you propped yourself on your elbows and frowned. Despite your risen position, he was insistent on continuing to rest his weight atop of you, not that you had minded. “You’re kind of scaring me, Clark. What is it? Did you get fired or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I—It’s just…” He stammered, then heavily exhaled. Thoughts of regrets plagued his mind at first, but he trusted you. You could see it in the light of his eyes. “Okay, here it goes. You know... how I’ve written multiple articles about Superman?”

“…Yeah? Got you on Perry’s radar, didn’t it? He seems to only like talking to you, which is impressive. Not surprising though—”

“Yeah, well… It’s just—there’s a reason why… he only sees me.”

“Why? Is it because he saved you or—”

“Clark, what are you doing with your eyes?—“

“Wait, holy crap—“ 

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

---

A Super Dad to the Rescue

Pairing: Superman x Male Son Reader

Notes: this post has a different format because i'm posting on my phone. And remember: REQUESTS ARE OPEN

**Summary:** On a quiet night in Metropolis, Clark Kent's young son has a nightmare. Clark transforms into Superman, not to fight a villain, but to comfort and calm his son, showing his more human side.

---

The city of Metropolis was enveloped in calm and silence, with the brilliance of stars lighting up the night sky. While everyone slept, an iconic figure flew silently through the skies. Clark Kent, Superman, was back from a night on patrol, ready to rest. But before he could snuggle into bed, he heard a sob coming from his son's room.

With concern in his eyes, he silently entered the boy's room and found his son, (Y/N), lying on the bed with his face contorted in a nightmare. (Y/N) eyes opened in fear when he noticed his father's presence.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," Clark said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He took off his glasses and smiled at his son, revealing his piercing blue eyes. "It was just a nightmare. I'm here to protect you."

(Y/N) was still shaking with fear, and Clark knew he needed to do something more than words to calm the boy. He lightly touched (Y/N)'s shoulder, and with a whisper, Clark's clothes transformed into Superman's famous red and blue cape.

"I'm going to show you something amazing,(Y/N) ," Clark said. He took his son in his arms and silently flew out the window, soaring into the starry night sky.

(Y/N) watched in wonder as the stars twinkled above them. Superman, his own father, held him securely.

"You see, (Y/N), we have the entire sky above us," Clark explained. "And no matter how scary the nightmares may be, you will always have someone to protect you. You will always have your father."

The fear in (Y/N)'s eyes gave way to a smile. He hugged his father tightly, feeling safe and loved.

Superman flew (Y/N) through the sky, showing him the beauty of the starry night and teaching him that no matter how powerful someone may be, true strength lies in the love and protection of a family.

At the end of the night, they returned to (Y/N)'s room, and Superman helped him back to bed. The boy fell asleep, smiling, knowing that his father would always be there to protect him, both as Clark Kent and as Superman.

---

---