NOBODY LIKES A SECRET - CLARK KENT ౨ৎ
cheater!clark kent x morally gray f!reader
in which... after telling clark you won't see him again until he's single, he shows up at your doorstep.
warnings: 18+! smut, porn with plot, fluff, cheating, hurt/comfort, slight somno, unprotected p in v, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (baby, angel, etc.), NO use of y/n, not proofread, there's more but idk
a/n: thank you guys for the love on part one! this is definitely more of a "filler" chapter (still important to the plot) but i have big plans for this affair, so i hope you enjoy :))
You’re really not this kind of person. A homewrecker, the other woman, Clark Kent’s secret affair. That’s what you told him two weeks ago, when you went back to Gotham with the promise that you wouldn’t see him again until he broke up with Lois. He told you he’ll end it ‘when the time is right.’ He’s sent flowers to your apartment five times by now, each bouquet attached with a short note guaranteeing your reunion soon.
“I miss you, angel. See you soon.
Love, C.K.”
“Thinking about you. It’ll be over before you know it.
Love, C.K.”
“Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful girl.
Love, C.K.”
And yeah, it was sweet. But the waiting is killing you. You’re starting to doubt he’ll break up with her at all. Maybe he didn’t mean all those things he said, right before he kissed you in his kitchen. You didn’t take him for a coward, but quite frankly, he’s starting to act like one.
You sit alone in your living room, reading a book you’re hardly paying attention to. Surrounded by plush pillows and blankets, you’re sprawled on the couch in a way that mirrors how Clark was laid out on his own just weeks ago. You haven’t been able to focus on anything since. All you can do is fixate on the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, how he promised he was yours.
Lost in a trance, you don’t even notice the thud coming from your balcony. You do, however, catch a glimpse of a familiar red cape blowing in the wind. You whip your head towards the glass door to find a certain superhero slumped in one of your patio chairs, battered and bruised. You don’t hesitate to run towards the door, bare feet padding against the hardwood. He hardly registers your presence as you kneel in front of him, grabbing his face.
A soft grunt escapes him, eyes still closed.
“Oh my god, what do I do? How do I help you?”
He’s covered in injuries: bruises and scrapes adorning the visible skin, suit covered in dust and blood. Far too much blood for even Superman to be losing. Checking over him in a panic, you almost miss the gash across his abdomen, the source of most of the blood.
You run back into your apartment to find a dishcloth, running it under warm water before hurrying to Clark again. You press the fabric against his most severe wound and he flinches, sitting up in pain and groaning, louder this time.
“Shh, it’s okay. Let me help you.” He opens his eyes now, glossy and bloodshot. You touch his shoulder with your free hand, easing him back down onto the chair. A faint smile flickers across his face.
“I’m- I’m already healing. ‘S just that one. ‘S bad.”
He’s right, the setting sun is already mitigating the minor abrasions, turning them into faint red marks. They’ll be gone in a few minutes. But so will the sunlight, and it won’t heal the rest of him in time. He needs as much exposure as possible before the star dips below the horizon.
He opens his eyes again, looking at you like he saw a ghost. “What? I– I thought you said? …Um.”
The look on your face is one of sheer offense. “Oh my god, Clark. Not like that. You need more sunlight.”
He laughs. He actually laughs in your face at the suggestion. The laughter shoots down to the gash, hurting him immediately, the sound turning into one of pain within seconds.
“Yeah, that’s what you get.” You say, smiling sheepishly at him. You help him pull the top of his suit down, exposing his injured torso. He groans again as he sits down, trying to cover up the pain he’s feeling. He thinks it’ll scare you, as if the two of you haven’t been in this situation dozens of times before. You’re still knelt in front of him, and he lifts a tired arm so he can grab your hand.
“I’m sorry for showing up like this. I just couldn't go home.” He says, interlocking his hand with yours. You know what he’s insinuating: Lois is home, she doesn’t know about this. The look in his eye is one of deep remorse. The sun is lighting up his face, highlighting the growing peachfuzz and hardly visible dimples. You can only think of how beautiful he looks like this. You stroke your thumb over his, smiling gently at the sight before you.
“Never be sorry for this, Clark. I wanna take care of you,” You say, and you truly mean it. You would spend your entire life taking care of him if it meant he’d be yours.
He looks behind you, towards the orange glow spanning across the Gotham skyline. You notice his wound healing, almost closed now, evident by his breath evening out and speech becoming more coherent.
Taking him out of his daze, you speak up. “Can I ask you something?”
He looks back into your eyes, as attentive as ever. “Of course, angel.”
“If Lo-” You pause. “If she knew about this,” You gesture to the red and blue suit hanging off of his body, “would you have gone to her instead of me?” Clark inhales deeply in front of you. He squeezes your hand tighter, pausing before his next words.
“No. Even if you hadn’t come to Metropolis the other week, I still would’ve come to you.”
You nod, cheeks flushing at his words. You notice as his gaze falls to your lips, the urge to kiss him bubbling below the surface. You made a promise to yourself, but with the way he’s looking at you now, that vow is crumbling.
You stand up before he can say anything that would make your resolve fail even quicker than it already is. “Um, I’m gonna go fix the couch up for me. You can take the bed, but you’re not flying home like this.” His hand falls back into his own orbit, blue eyes flickering between you and the door.
“Don’t go yet, baby. Please stay until the sun’s down.”
You hesitate, desperate to get away before you do something you’ll regret. But he really looks desperate, brows furrowed and breathing shallow. He needs you right now.
“Okay,” you pause, sitting in the patio chair beside him and turning to face him, “But talk to me. Tell me what happened.” If you’re going to be this close to him, you need a distraction.
He sighs, looking up, trying to figure out how to tell you. “It was Luthor, obviously. Intel was leaked from Luthorcorp about a planned attack in Metropolis, and I tried to intercept it. It was a trap. He was planning to attack me, and knew just how to bait me. I don’t know how I let it happen..”
It goes on like this for half an hour, Clark explaining and you listening. The distraction works on both ends, clearing your head and getting his mind off of the wounds. By the time the sun sets, he’s mostly healed. Faint bruises and a scar are left on his abdomen, but you’re still not letting him leave.
You help him up, his arm wrapping around your waist as you try to reach his shoulder and help him to your bedroom. You help him sit on the edge of the bed, and he starts to take the rest of his suit off. You quickly turn around to avert your eyes, and you’re not even sure why.
Facing the door, you mumble, “I’ll get you some clothes.” You hear him laugh as you rush to your dresser, with a drawer full of stuff he left at your old place.
“You still have my stuff?” He asks from behind you.
“Yeah, I um, wear it sometimes.” Why are you so nervous? It’s just Clark. You grab two old t-shirts, plaid pajama pants, and a pair of socks. When you turn back to him, his suit is discarded on the hardwood, and he’s sitting on the mattress in nothing but his boxers. You can’t help but stare at him, the longing you’ve felt all evening now stronger than before.
“You gonna let me change or keep staring, baby?”
“Yeah, in your dreams, Kent.”
You place the folded clothes on the comforter beside him, then turn to your closet to grab supplies for your couch bed tonight. You can hear him changing behind you, and you swear it’s taking him longer than it normally would. You wait until you hear him sit back down before you turn around, careful not to put yourself in a tougher position than you’re already in.
“I’m gonna go set this up. Let me know if you need anything.”
He nods, smirking at you. “Got it.” He says, climbing under the covers with practiced ease.
“Someone’s feeling better.” You smile back at him, shutting the door and walking out into the living room.
You start getting ready for bed, making sure you use the guest bathroom to avoid going back into your room. Changing into the second shirt, ditching pajama pants for the night. It’s what you would do if there wasn’t an insanely gorgeous alien laid up in your bed, anyways. He’s seen it before.
Before long, the events of the night catch up to you. You can hear the hum of your TV from the bedroom, and you doubt Clark is even tired anymore. You, on the other hand, are exhausted. You lay on the couch, curling into a fetal position, expecting sleep to hit you like a train.
The thought of Clark in your bed without you keeps you up for hours. The couch feels lonely, and you don’t know when you’ll see him again. Would it be so bad to go in there with him? Nothing will happen, you won’t let it. Your body seems to decide for you, walking over to the bedroom door before your mind can even catch up.
You knock twice, the sound barely audible. If he’s asleep, you’ll leave him alone. He needs rest.
You crack the door open, face already turning red. “Hey Clark, how are you holding up?”
“Honey, I said come in. I’m okay, I promise.”
You walk into the room, and Clark scoots over to make room for you, pulling the comforter down beside him. You pad over to the bed, jumping in next to him. Immediately, he places an arm around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. Your blush deepens, the action not going unnoticed by the rest of your body.
“Remember what I told you, Clark.”
You can’t see his face, but you can feel him roll his eyes. “I know, I know.” He reaches down to pull the blanket over the both of you, and you can already feel your eyelids getting heavy. This was a good idea, after all. The two of you can restrain yourselves for a night.
Eventually, you drift off into sleep. Clark isn’t far behind you, other arm reaching around your waist to wrap you in a bear hug. You get the best sleep you’ve had in a year.
You’re awoken by rays of sunlight shining through your sheer curtains, illuminating the room around you. Clark is still wrapped around your back, lightly snoring as his body likely finishes healing. One of his hands is behind your head, resting on the pillow beside you, and one is dipping under your sleep shirt, an unconscious decision exposing your bare lower half.
As you come to, you realize you left your phone in the living room, leaving you with nothing to do until Clark stirs.
You wrap your hand around the larger one covering your stomach, testing the waters. He’s still snoring. So, feeling his crotch barely touching your ass, you arch into him. As if on instinct, his hips push forward to chase the feeling. Still asleep, you can feel him twitch behind you, growing harder with each movement.
You continue this pattern, pushing your ass backwards, tightening your hand around his. After a few minutes of this, he’s completely hard and still sleeping. You pull his hand up higher, towards your chest, placing his palm around one of your tits. This seems to do something, as his snoring ceases. His hand twitches around you, and with one last push against him, you hear a small gasp from behind you, hand now fully enveloping you.
His head rests against yours, mouth close to your ear. You can hear every breath, including the raspy version of your name that escapes him.
“Hm?” You ask, not stopping your movements.
You hear him gulp. “I thought you said, to– gosh baby– to wait?”
“Mm. Don’t wanna wait.” His hips jut forward, harder than before. A whimper escapes him as his cock drags against your barely clothed ass.
His hand finds your nipple, squeezing gently as the two of you continue the rhythm you’ve found. You moan softly, closing your eyes. He moves his head down and kisses your neck, moving down to your collarbone as the soft sounds continue to escape the both of you.
Before you know it, he’s using the hands around you to flip you over, pulling your chest flush with his. You can feel the press of him against you, more direct now. You reach your hand up to the side of his face, placing a firm kiss on his lips. You can feel him smile against yours, hips still moving in tandem against each other. You deepen the kiss, pushing your tongue past his lips to hear him groan. The hand on your chest tightens, before moving to your other breast. Kneading the flesh there, he moves down to kiss your jaw again. Leaving red marks that will fade in minutes, he moves down your body, pulling your shirt higher and over your head.
“Shouldn’t’ve worn anything, honey.” He mumbles against your skin, moving to bring a nipple into his mouth. You moan at the contact, his words going straight to your core. Your hand finds his hair as his tongue moves against you. Your hips rut, almost unavoidably, searching for friction anywhere.
“So impatient, baby. Wanna take my time with you.”
You groan, wanting anything but to wait for him to touch you. “C’mon Clark. I need you.”
He smiles against you, “I know,” he says, and you roll your eyes. He kisses slower this time, moving down your body. Each kiss feels like a spark against your skin, a fire that’s somehow not igniting. He takes his time on your chest, your stomach, then each thigh as you grow restless beneath him.
Soon, he kisses over the hem of your panties, tracing the edge of the fabric across your lower stomach first, then down the sides and in between your thighs. Your breathing grows erratic, chest heaving, as your hand searches for one of his. Your fingers interlace, and he finally kisses you over your clothed clit.
You gasp sharply at the direct contact. Clark’s teasing already has you worked up, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Take ‘em off, baby.” You say, slightly lifting your hips toward him.
He obeys, hooking his fingers in the cotton and pulling them down your legs and tossing them somewhere forgotten. Returning to you, he places a hand under each of your knees, pushing your thighs back and exposing your glistening center.
“So pretty, hon,” he murmurs, before licking a blunt stripe up your folds.
“Fuck,” you whimper. He doesn’t stop there, constant licks against you sending soft moans tumbling out of the both of you. You feel the vibrations of his noise against you, furthering the pleasure that you thought couldn’t get any better.
He dips lower, curling his tongue into you, moving between your entrance and your clit. He sucks on the sensitive bud, and listens to the increasingly loud sounds coming from you. He can’t help but smile into you, looking up at you with his shiny blue eyes. The vulnerability of the moment makes you flustered and you bashfully try to cover your face with your hands.
He stops. “No, baby. I wanna see you. Don’t do that.”
You whine, and spread your legs farther as his hands move to the side of your thighs to hold you open for him. He smiles again when you uncover your face, moving back down to reattach to your pussy. His tongue probes into you now, his nose bumping your clit every few seconds. Your hips involuntarily grind against his face, hand finding his dark curls to pull him deeper into you.
He’s letting you use him like this, still whimpering into you. Your hips are lifted, almost fully off the bed now, and you feel that familiar ache growing inside of you. You find a rhythm with your movements, nose rubbing your clit in a way that’s sending you closer to the edge. His face is becoming more slick with every passing moment, dripping down his chin, onto his neck and the sheets beneath you.
The hand fisting his hair tightens in a way that would definitely hurt the average person. Your grip spurs him on further, however, and he holds your skin tighter.
“Oh god, Clark. Feels so good, so close, don’t stop.”
The sound of your whines, the pace at which you’re grinding against him, it sends him into a daze, rutting into the bed in tune with you. He can feel how close you are, clenching around his tongue and moans becoming broken and rasped.
With one final tug, you pull him even farther into your cunt, body tensing as you cum on his face. He nods his head, now locked between your thighs. He hums against you one final time, and the sudden overstimulation sends you jolting backwards.
Your hand still on his head, you pull him up towards you. He can feel the dampness on the bed from you, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand. He smiles as you pull him in to kiss you, tasting yourself on his face and his tongue. You feel him hard against you, almost unnoticeably rubbing himself against your leg. You reach down to palm him through the plaid pajama pants, and he groans into your mouth.
You take the opportunity to bite softly at his bottom lip, and he grinds harder into you. The action sends you clenching around nothing, already preparing for more of him. You moan against his mouth.
“Yeah, baby?” He mutters. He reaches down to pull his pajamas and boxers down, finally exposing himself. You can feel him stroke himself, spreading the already present precum down his shaft. “Y’ready?” He asks.
You nod, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.
He shakes his head, “C’mon. Use your words.”
You snake your hand between the two of you, reaching down to touch him in impatience. “Please Clark, I’m ready,” You say, stroking his cock as he groans above you, head dipping down in pleasure.
All he can do is nod, replacing your hand with his as he lines himself up at your entrance. He rubs his tip between your folds, once, twice, before just barely pushing inside of you. He pauses, lips making contact with yours as you gasp into each other. Slowly, he pushes deeper, making sure not to hurt you in this position. Your legs hook around his hips and finally, he bottoms out, hips smacking against yours. Yet, he doesn’t move.
“Baby move, p- please.” Your hand curls around his bicep, feeling the stretch of him against your walls.
“I’m sorry, honey. I- I can’t, not, not yet. Not gonna last like this.”
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel the heat rising in his face. The blush creeps down to his neck, and he kisses your collarbone. After a few seconds, he slowly draws his hips out, pushing back in agonizingly slow.
“Gosh, you feel so good around me. So, so good”
One of his hands comes up from your hips, grabbing one of your tits. He squeezes as he picks up the pace, hips rhythmically hitting yours. His brows furrow, using every ounce of self control not to cum yet. Your nails claw at his back, leaving red streaks up and down the huge muscles.
“Doing, fuck, s- so good, Clark, c-c’mon,”
Clark sits farther back on his knees, moving his hands back to your thighs as he pounds into you faster. Your hands find the pillow behind your head, clawing as he hits your at the perfect angle, over and over again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, borderline yelling at the way he’s fucking you.
“O- Oh my, oh… g-gosh,” He’s mumbling, feeling the way you’re squeezing him. He doesn’t slow his thrusts, despite the way you’re drawing him in relentlessly. He’s addicted to the way you feel, enamored with how you take him so well.
You’re kneading your own breasts now, almost violently, watching how Clark’s eyes don’t leave your hands. “G- God,” you moan, loudly, at how his thrusts grow harder at the sight of you.
“Look, look at you angel. So desperate f’me, huh?”
You nod, and you hadn’t even realized how close you were already. “Clark, Clark, ‘m gonna cum– p– please just like that,”
He leans back down, face coming to rest beside yours. “Me too baby, me too. Such a good girl,” His thrusts becoming inconsistent, he reaches between you to circle your clit in the way he knows will bring you over the edge.
Before you know it, your orgasm hits you, whining as he slams into you, filling you up as it hits him at the same time. With one last plunge into you, he slows. Your bodies fall limp and Clark kisses you with an outward affection.
“I love you, angel. Never stopped once.”
Eventually, the two of you roll out of bed after spending the morning lazily wrapped in each other’s arms and muttering sappy anecdotes against each other’s lips. You decided to go out for brunch in Gotham, where you’ll be able to go out without risking someone seeing the two of you. He finds an outfit in your dresser, an old white button up and some slacks. Of course, he rolls up the sleeves, revealing a few inches of his forearms, because the cuffs around his wrists ‘just always bother him.’
You spend your time getting ready, unrushed as you do your hair and makeup with Clark watching behind you in the mirror. He’s holding onto your hips as you mindlessly sway to a song playing from a speaker somewhere in the apartment. The morning feels normal, domesticated, and you almost forget the context of your current relationship with him.
You opt out of taking the subway, wanting to avoid the criminals who frequent the line closest to your place. You and Clark walk to the restaurant, taking your time to stop at whatever shops or flower stands catch your eye. The entire time, your hand is in his, feeling free to walk around the city with him.
Soon, you arrive at brunch, a French place that you’ve loved since you moved here. The hostess sits the two of you outside. Clark sits in front of you as you face the street, long legs brushing yours under the table. For an hour, you enjoy your meal and catch up with him. You tell him about your new job, your friends, everything you’ve been doing without him. He’s fully engrossed with the conversation, responding thoughtfully to every story you tell him. Soon, it’s his turn. Trying to spare details of Lois, he tells you about the Planet, missions he’s been on, etc.
As he speaks, lost in his own tale, you notice a figure standing in an alleyway across the street. It’s someone small, presumably a woman stopping in the middle of a walk. You try to focus again on Clark as the figure steps out of the alleyway, stepping into the middle of your view. Something about them robs you of your ability to concentrate on the man in front of you. You notice a camera first, held to the person’s eyes. Dark hair, definitely a woman. Clark takes your hand in his on top of the table, and you see a flash coming from the alley.
“You okay, honey?” He leans in. Another flash.
You nod, swallowing thickly, “Yeah, keep going. I wanna hear this part.”
He nods, continuing his story as the woman takes the device away from her face, brows furrowed as she watches the two of you.
You can hear your heartbeat, chest heaving. She brings a finger to her lips, making a ‘hush’ motion before turning away from the restaurant, hurrying down the street and out of sight.
@moltenillusionvigil @theoraekenslover @asymetricstar @ticklish-leafy-plant @cielito--lindo @getinthecar-elizabeth @sunshinekent
© kryptokisses 2025 - original works! do not repost, translate, or duplicate in any way. :)