mackscheese

She looked down at it on the table next to her couch, confused.

The screen lit up with your name, buzzing insistently.

Why would you be calling her? Especially at this hour?

You were currently in Gotham City, working on a piece about rising crime and institutional corruption after Perry assigned it to you for damage control—because you’d called a senator a “fascist muppet” in your last article.

She wondered if you were in trouble, mixed up with the wrong people chasing a lead, or had gotten high, drunk, or both and gotten into a fight with a police officer.

Despite her instincts, she hesitated to pick it up. She never knew what side or version she was going to get with you.

Clark reached for the remote to mute the television before answering and sinking onto the couch.

“Hey, are you… okay? Everythi—”

You cut her off. “No. I’m still pissed off that Perry sent me to Gotham. My sources fell through, and now I’m stuck.”

“Seriously?”

“They keep treating me like I’m a piece of shit.”

Clark deadpanned, “You are a piece of shit.”

You laughed bitterly, pacing toward your bed.

“Wow, coming from Miss Girl Scout. Fuck you too.”

You continued as you dropped onto the edge of the bed, “I did find something… kinda risky… but I think I can run it. Just need you or Lois to vet it for me. I’ll email the details later, bitch. It’s fucking genius.”

You hear her sigh, annoyed.

“You are not going to push this through, like this, on your first day on the assignment, when Perry is already angry with you. I don’t know about Lois, but I’m not going to help you.”

A mock gasp falls from your mouth, “Well, you should. I’m an ideas fountain.”

Clark rubs her forehead, trying to preserve her sanity, “Oh, for goodness sake, stop it… You’re acting like an overexcited little gremlin again.”

You roll your eyes, “Y’know… I’m technically correct… about everything most of the time.”

She fires back, finally at her breaking point, “Yeah? Well, go to bed and just masturbate out all of your ideas, alright princess? Let’s see how excited you are in the morning…”

The weight of her words hits her almost immediately. She starts to backpedal, but you’re already sprawled on the bed, unbuckling your pants.

“I didn’t mean— I meant sleep. Please don’t— I meant— just—”

You taunt her, still holding your phone to your ear, “No, no… you’re right… this time… I should… But maybe I’ll just leave you on the pillow so you can hear my brilliance cascading…”

And your vulgarity brought her confidence back.

“Fine, whatever. I’ve heard worse than a delirious woman masturbating.”

You slip your hand into your underwear, feeling how soaked you are. “Oh yeah? You sure? I could be doing it right now…”

Clark replied flatly, “Go ahead… See if I care.”

You circle your clit, breath shallow, collecting your wetness. As soon as she hears you, she scoffs in surprise.

“Oh my God… you vile little thing… Are you serious?”

Your fingers descend to your entrance, whimpering involuntarily. You push one of them inside at an agonizingly slow pace.

Clark’s voice drops low, that Kansas drawl of hers more pronounced, “How pathetic… you’re a disgusting filthy parasite, aren’t you?”

A pitiful whimper escapes you, beginning to pump your finger in and out.

“Yeah, yeah… I am.”

You could practically picture the sneer on her face. “You slime puppy.”

The slow rhythm is abandoned, your movements quickening. You add another finger, desperate to cum.

“W-what else am I?”

“You’re a disappointment.”

Your thighs clench around your hand, making you cry out and jerk your head back. Everything feels overwhelming in the best way possible, and Clark isn’t even done yet.

"You’re nothing but a classic screw-up, sweetheart…”

She bites her lip to hide the smirk, closing her eyes briefly, and listens to your elevated heartbeat all the way from Metropolis.

All of your muscles tighten while you maintain the pace as you curl your fingers. You can’t speak—struck dumb.

“An absolute disgraceful excuse for a person, y’know that?”

You hit your G-spot repeatedly, the entire body locking up. You start babbling out to her.

“Y-yes, I do…. Clark.. p-please… I’m so—”

She talks right over you, “No, you don’t get to talk… Are you close?”

You respond with a broken moan, hips bucking into the air as you continue to abuse your poor cunt. But Clark doesn’t stop degrading you. She goes on until your orgasm gradually washes over you.

Your phone falls from your grasp onto the pillow while you lie there, shaking, tears streaming down your face. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before—weightless, like you’re floating.

There’s a long, charged silence in the wake of your release. Clark waits to speak until both your breathing and heartbeat are steady.

You roll over to the empty side of the bed, squinting toward the bathroom. The bedroom was mostly dark, like the rest of the apartment. The only light was the night light atop your dresser.

After a few moments, you sit upright and rub the sleep from your eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 2:37 A.M.

It’s far too late. Or far too early.

You make your way to the bathroom, half asleep, thankful it’s connected to your bedroom.

It’s darker inside, except for the moonlight through the window, since the person inside doesn’t need the light.

But through the fogged glass shower door, you can still see your girlfriend’s silhouette beneath the spray.

Her broad shoulders drooped slightly, her head bowed and one hand braced against the tile wall.

You quietly step into the bathroom, wondering what caused this night for her—not that Clark could hear your heartbeat from across the city if she wanted to.

After taking off your slip dress, you slide the shower door open. Then, you’re met with Clark’s bright blue eyes boring into you.

Your eyes travel over her bruised, blood-smeared body, and her eyes do the same.

Although you know the cut on her lip and the gash across her stomach will heal in the morning sun, your heart aches.

To distract you from your wandering gaze, she speaks. “Hi, sweetie.”

Her voice is rough with exhaustion.

You smile, stepping into the shower, making her smile. “Hey.”

“Did I wake you up?”

The hot water washes over your shoulders.

“Nope.”

The lie is terrible. You both know it, but she doesn’t argue.

Clark watches you reach for the shampoo bottle and pour some into your hand.

She hums, her eyes fluttering as you work the shampoo into her dark hair. A whimper escapes her lips.

You chuckle, kissing her forehead.

“There’s my girl.”

Her gaze never leaves your face as you guide her to rinse the soap from her hair. Your fingers graze the scrape on her cheek.

She clears her throat. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know,” you murmur, continuing to wash her hair.

The water runs over you both as she leans into your touch, hand grasping your wrist.

You don’t move, eyeing her fondly as she presses light kisses against your skin.

Then she does it again, a little higher.

Her kisses travel up the inside of your arm. Knuckles. Forearm. Elbow. Each one needier than the last.

Her hands settle at your waist, pushing you back against the cool tile.

“Clark,” you warn, placing your hand on her shoulder before she starts kissing your neck. “You’re injured.”

You swear she whines into your flesh, shaking her head.

“Don’t care… need you more.”

You open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out when she kisses right below your earlobe, making you involuntarily shiver.

Her grip on your waist tightens and, beneath the warm water and steam, along with her persistence, you can’t help but give in.

Your hand moves up to cup her jaw and guide her towards you, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips.

You whisper, your breath mingling together. “Alright… just don’t hurt yourself.”

Clark dips her head wearily, kissing you once more before moving down to your chest.

Arousal drips down her inner thighs as she effortlessly lifts your legs around her waist. Her hips rock into yours in a slow, sensual rhythm.

Her mouth latches onto your right breast, moaning. The vibration ripples through your body, making you throw your head back.

You dig your nails into her shoulder as another jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. She glides her slick folds against hers, sucking your nipple.

She savors the way your thighs tremble and tighten around her waist, and how your breathing turns unsteady despite the agonizing pace.

You gradually lose track of time, lulled by the warmth of the water and the pleasure clouding your mind.

Clark’s mouth is no longer wrapped around your nipple, now kissing you instead. She grinds into your pussy, her thrusts remaining deliberate.

You both feel the tension inside you tighten and tighten. It feels so far away, yet somehow it seems right there. You deepen the kiss as her breathless pants melt between your lips.

Finally, she rasps hoarsely, “Baby, I’m about to cum… come with me, please..”

You nod, beginning to match her thrusts, knowing it’ll make Clark unravel.

And it does.

She jerks, her pace quickening, not by much, but enough to cause your body to shudder.

All the muscles in your body are pulled taut, wound up, and straining. You could only feel the unbearable pressure building behind your ribs, begging for a release.

You choke out, “G-god, keep going.”

Clark obeys, maintaining the uneven cadence. She quivers when you drag your fingernails down her back.

You feel your toes curl, your body locking up before it snaps. It knocks the air from your lungs; a blinding rush of heat surges through you.

She follows suit, her hips hitching sharply. A ragged sound tears from her throat, and she instantly goes limp against you. She sets your feet back on the floor, hands still warm against your skin.

“Golly, sweetie. You don’t know how good you feel.”

You snort, holding her up even as your shaky legs threaten to give out. You run a hand through her soaked curls, still coming down from it.

It even followed you into adulthood. Your friends would ramble about their fantasies involving “hot firefighters.” You’d bite down on your tongue and let them indulge, not wanting to be an asshole.

You just never got it. It felt like you were missing some inside joke nobody bothered to explain.

That was until your girlfriend decided to become one.

You only meant to drop by for a second.

Clark had forgotten her lunch in the fridge, and even though she could go without food for months, it was the perfect excuse to visit her.

Once you walked inside the building, you were met with noise, heat, and motion. Men with what could only be described as porn-staches and fresh buzz cuts eyed you as they sized you up.

Most of them were lounging around the bay, laughing or clapping each other on the shoulders while you stood there with a tight-lipped smile, looking for Clark.

Eventually, one guy leaning against a counter noticed you and flashed a grin.

He pushed off the counter. “You’re Kent’s girl. I remember you from the pictures…”

You immediately covered your face with your hand, mortified.

Pictures?

Of course she did.

He jerked a thumb toward the back. “Yeah… she talks about you all the time. We all tease her about it. Want me to go get her?”

You were still flustered. “Uh, yeah. She forgot her lunch today. Is she in the back?”

The man nodded. “Yup, training bay. She’ll be right out.”

Moments later, Clark ran out from somewhere, glowing. A few other guys followed behind her, curious to see you in person.

She didn’t hesitate before folding you against her chest and lifting you off the ground.

“Hi, sweetie!”

Somebody behind her whistled.

“Ooo, Kent’s got company.”

Clark ignored them, murmuring into your ear as she set you down.

“Thought I heard your heartbeat outside.”

You chuckled as she pulled away. When she did, you finally got a good look at her.

She was wearing a tight black shirt stretched over her shoulders. It was damp in places that made you wonder if she had just come off a drill. Her bunker pants sat heavy on her hips while the utility straps hung loose at her sides. Aviator glasses rested on her face despite being indoors.

Your mind blanked.

You forgot what you were supposed to be doing—why you came here.

You almost forgot how to stand.

And the mullet—

Fucking hell.

It lay messily at the nape of her neck, curls falling forward just enough to make it unfair.

You didn’t remember having this sort of reaction when you saw her in the super-suit.

Clark’s eyes trailed down to the lunch bag.

“Is that my lunch?”

Despite her question, your attention was snagged on the way her arm muscles flexed as she pointed, and the traces of soot smudged across her forearms. It made your heartbeat spike.

She turned her head, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth.

“You okay?”

You regained focus, stuttering, “Y-yeah… Um, you forgot it… in the fridge… this morning.”

She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, “Thank you, darling.”

The next week was utter madness.

Your girlfriend in a firefighter uniform had completely rewired every inch of your mind and body. Now you were hoping to undo it through logic.

You tried subtle things first.

“Hey, do you think you could come home early? I made your favorite. Breakfast for dinner!”

“The oven’s acting up again.”

“Think there’s a spider in the shower. Come quickly!!!”

Unfortunately, she responded to all of it with the same infuriating calm.

“Sorry, honey. I can’t tonight. Rain check?”

“Maybe get our neighbor to do it. He’s pretty handy. Good luck.”

“Can’t right now, babe. In the middle of training. Just use a piece of paper and a cup and put it outside. Don’t need to kill the poor thing.”

You even tried sending pictures of yourself in bed, hair fanned across the pillow, giving her a glimpse of your bare shoulder as your bralette strap slipped down your arm.

Missed you this morning. The bed’s so cold without you.

Clark only responded with:

Miss you too, pretty girl. Try stealing my pillow. Love you.

You frowned at your phone as it dawned on you that she just might be immune to the spell you’d been tirelessly casting on her.

The night it did happen, you weren’t actually trying. Well, maybe a little bit.

You were in the kitchen, hunched over your phone on the counter, debating whether you followed the recipe correctly. It was supposed to be something simple and comforting.

Just a little roasted dinner.

But once the burnt smell filled your small kitchen, you began to think you’d be the first person to give Superwoman food poisoning. You were already dashing toward the oven when the smoke came.

As you snatched a nearby dish towel and began flapping it around, the beeping from the smoke alarm echoed throughout the apartment.

“Shit—no, no, no—”

You yanked open the oven door and pulled out what was supposed to be your dinner, setting it on the stove. You glared at the pan, your chest tightening with disappointment.

“This was supposed to be nice,” you muttered as tears threatened to spill.

Here you were standing in the middle of your kitchen wearing a sundress in Clark’s favorite color, having cooked the food to the point where you couldn’t even eat it yourself.

Right as you were about to completely lose it, the living room window slid open and Clark flew in. When she found you, you were pacing.

“Baby?”

You stopped in your tracks, your head snapping toward her voice. The mere sight of her in that damn firefighter uniform made something inside you unclench.

You let out a weak hello when she gently reached for you. Clark hooked an arm around your shoulders to comfort you.

“I heard the alarm first… then your heartbeat.” Her voice eased against your temple. “I was so scared.”

You whimpered, leaning into her as you waved toward the stove.

“I’m sorry… I tried to make dinner, and I thought I had it, but I didn’t, and then it started smoking, and I think I messed up the timing, or the temperature, or maybe I just—I don’t know, I thought… it was finally your night off… and I’d do something nice for you.”

Clark listened, her expression softening as you rambled.

“And I wore your favorite dress, which sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it out loud, because—”

She cut you off with a kiss.

It wasn’t rough or unrestrained, just tender. She didn’t do it to unravel you, but to bring you back. She anchored you there with her, the grip firm on your waist. It wasn’t possessive. It was only Clark hoping to dull the noise for you.

The charred scent of smoke and the screeching wail of the alarm became barely noticeable.

Clark breathed steadily against your ear.

“It’s okay, darlin’… I’ve got you here with me.”

That landed heavier than everything she had said all week, making your breath shake. Her thumb moved gently at your waist.

“Come on, breathe for me… It’s okay.”

The grounding tone of her voice compelled you to indulge in a familiar sense of nirvana.

Your vision steadied, then dropped to her body. Your fingers curled lightly into the front of her shirt as the ache in your chest worsened after tracing a soot mark across her cheek with your gaze.

She murmured while peppering kisses against your neck.

“There she is… there’s my girl.”

You groaned, cranking your neck sideways to give her more access. If it were even possible, her arm tightened around you. Clark’s lips dragged back to the shell of your ear as her hands roamed your backside.

“I’ll get the smoke alarm, and you go on to bed. I’ll be in soon… Alright, sweet girl?”

You nodded, half-adrift, obeying her like a loyal Dalmatian.

You were lying in bed, clutching the bedsheets to your bare chest, listening to Clark’s heavy footsteps outside your bedroom as she disabled the smoke alarm, your dress folded somewhere at the foot of the bed.

In the silence that followed, she slipped back through the crack of the door. Her eyes found yours immediately, her mouth curving into a smile.

She remained silent as she glided through the room to your shared dresser. Anticipation coiled through you as the drawers opened and fabric rustled faintly.

Your back straightened when she turned toward you with one of her ties in hand. Though you had always known this was where it was headed, your breath still caught.

Clark walked over to your side of the bed and stopped beside you. She held the tie loosely between her fingers, bringing it to your wrists.

She wraps the wide blade of the fabric twice around your skin. Without pinching you, she crossed it to secure it in place and guided your hands to the headboard. Clark looped the tie around the iron railing twice before tugging it into a firm knot.

Then she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

She unbuckled her bunker pants, letting them fall to her ankles. Clark stepped out of them as she pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her sports bra and boxers.

She peeled the bedsheets off you, eyeing how your body was only half covered with your lacy underwear.

Clark couldn’t hold back from kissing along your neck as she straddled you. “Impatient, darling?”

A trembling whimper escaped you, “F-fuck you.”

She places a featherlight kiss on the swell of your breast, amusement coloring her voice, “I’m trying.”

Her mouth finally latched onto your breast, enveloping it wholly, circling your nipple with her tongue, earning a groan from her.

Clark moved to your other tit, mirroring the same attention she had given the first one, while one of her hands slowly moved to your underwear.

You whined as she cupped your clothed cunt, the wetness of it already coating her fingers. She squeezes it when she feels you rub against her hand.

Clark cooed at you while kissing down your midriff, saying, “Oh, I know, sweetheart… already feels good, huh?”

You nod, letting out another soft, high-pitched gasp, “Y-yes… just stop teasing me.”

She snickered, pulling the gusset of your panties to one side. “As you wish, my love.”

Your head snapped back into the pillow, straining within the tie’s hold while she licked a stripe up your center. Her tongue, flat and broad, parting you like the Red Sea.

“Easy, easy, baby,” Clark crooned, her hands sliding beneath your thighs as she guided your legs over her shoulders. “Seems I’ve neglected you for too long.”

She moans into your cunt, sending vibrations throughout your aching body. She eats you out like her whole purpose on this earth was to do this.

And with how the bed began to shake—not from you, but from her rolling her hips against the mattress—you squeeze your thighs around her head.

Her mouth closes in around your sensitive nub while she slips one finger into your hole. You cried out, “Shit, C-Clark…”

She curls her finger as she begins pumping it in and out of you, hitting that one spot that turns you into a giant puddle underneath you.

Your orgasm is near; you can feel it in the way your thighs clench, your back arches, and your jaw falls slack as incoherent praises spill from your mouth.

Like always, she can sense it.

You know she does by the way her free hand holds your hip, keeping you grounded. Clark adds a second finger, doubling down on her efforts.

She whispers against your clit, “Come on, sweetheart… soak my face. Wanna taste it so bad.”

Anchoring yourself in the rapture, it engulfs you, leaving you gasping and trembling as though you’re drowning in it. It’s unlike what your hands have been trying to replicate for the past week.

Still chasing her own release, Clark continued to lap at you even as you shook uncontrollably. You have to physically push her off, bringing your foot up to her shoulder and nudging her.

Reluctantly, she presses a kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up your body. When she looms over you, leaning closer—her mouth isn’t the only thing that’s damp.

There’s a wet patch in the crotch of her boxers, and her glassy eyes are filled with desperation. You were just about to tease her when she beat you to it, silencing you with a firm kiss.

You hummed into the kiss as you tasted yourself on Clark’s lips. Her hands scrambled to undo the tie around your wrists. She needed your hands on her. Your fingers in her hair. Your nails down her back.

Without hesitation, you cupped her face, matching her intensity. She gave a broken, needy little sound, involuntarily bucking into you. The slight friction sends you both reeling.

Usually, she’d lean over toward the nightstand and pull out the strap, and fuck you until you were left hollow and sobbing for more. But she was craving something more visceral.

You help Clark pull her boxers off and throw them across the room. She pushes your knees up to your chest, dragging her slick folds against yours as she nestles into the side of your neck.

Her clit catches yours, already tender. Clark’s voice is muffled, but you understand her perfectly.

“Please, baby… I’m so close… Can you do it again… for me?”

You try to nod, your voice fracturing as she speeds up. With how fresh your last orgasm was, you were still coming undone.

“Yes, Clark… Oh, God…”

She speeds up her pace, grinding her pussy into yours vigorously—refusing to cum without you.

Your eyes flicker down momentarily, widening at the sticky string of arousal that’s clinging between you two.

Soon, Clark’s thrusts become sloppy, erratic, and ragged. You attempt to muster the strength to get each other there, but you can’t. You’re too limp even to move.

She doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, staying close to you. The knot wound tight within her is on the verge of snapping, occupying every corner of her mind.

You’re right behind her, breathlessly showering her with praise. “D-doing so good, Clarkie… right there… Fuck.”

Once you both reach your peak, you swear you see stars. But this time it’s far more intense. It’s almost otherworldly, similar to your girlfriend who’s shuddering above you.

Barely riding out the aftershocks, Clark collapses onto you, still overwhelmed by how good your smile feels. Something she knows she’ll never get over.

She scatters kisses along your face and jaw, playing with your hair as she rolls onto her side of the bed beside you—the spot that’s felt unbearably empty without her.

You watch her with a dazed grin, giggling when her touch tickles you. “I can’t believe you..”

Clark raises a brow, smirking, “Me? What about you? You’re not exactly subtle, y’know?”

You shrug, cuddling into her, “Was never trying to be.”

Clark’s eyes grudgingly opened, hearing something vibrate in the bedroom. It wasn’t loud or sharp, just annoyingly persistent. She reached for the source of the noise.

In the shadows of city lights spilling through the windows, she saw you still asleep, curled against her chest. The buzzing started again.

By the third time, she realized it was most likely her phone. Clark sighed dramatically as she adjusted her grip on you, leaning over you toward her bunker pants to grab it without waking you.

You stirred instantly at the feeling of your sleepy firefighter girlfriend shifting slightly on you.

She immediately felt guilty, pressing a kiss to your shoulder while gently coaxing you back to sleep. “It’s okay, honey… don’t worry.”

You nodded drowsily, a soft noise slipping into her warm skin as the phone buzzed once more.

Clark grabbed her pants, leaning over you, digging through the front pockets to find her phone.

As soon as she found it, she glanced at the bright screen and frowned.

It was one of the guys she worked with, Kyle.

She settled back onto the bed, sliding her thumb across the screen, answering the call, tightening her hold on you.

Still careful not to wake you, she whispered, “Hey, man. What’s up? It’s late.”

For a second, she didn’t hear anything. Until…

“Where the hell did you go, Kent? The whole crew has been looking for you.”

Clark closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Even across the city, Kyle’s voice managed to stay grating. Still, she did feel bad—at the thought of everyone worrying over her.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. I had something to take care of at home. I thought we were done.”

Kyle snorted, not buying it. “Yeah, sure, clearly we weren’t. Let’s hope the boss doesn’t tear you a new one when you get back.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she picked up from you, and ran a hand through her curls. “How bad is it?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. You know how stoic he usually is. You’ll have to find out on your own.”

Clark stiffened as you mumbled something unintelligible into her, hoping Kyle didn’t hear it—knowing that was the last thing she needed to be teased about.

“Right.”

He hummed dryly, “Yeah… you’re in for it.”

She groaned, “I know, I know, I know.”

Kyle chuckled before hanging up. “Oh… and Kent?”

“Yes?”

“Say hi to your girlfriend for me.”

Clark choked, staring down at her phone as silence flooded the apartment for three seconds before you shifted against her, whimpering into her chest.

“Baby, I’m cold…”

Clark softened, embarrassment and annoyance melting away as she pulled the sheets up around you.

“Oh, sweetheart… I got you. Go back to sleep.”

But when she lifted her head, she realized both of you were mid-air. Several feet above the bed.