Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What are you wearing?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The shoes.” 

“What about them?” 

“I’ve uh… I was actually reading this article by the American Osteopathic Association on the health risks associated with wearing high heeled shoes. Lower back and foot and knee pain, ankle sprains, Morton’s neuroma, planar fasciitis, permanent changes to your spine… Pretty gnarly, Lois. You shouldn’t wear ‘em.” 

“Uh huh?” 

He tucked his hands in his pockets, giving her a charming smile she wanted to smack off his face. 

“Thank you very much,” she said, toeing her shoes off and craning her neck further to look up at him. They didn’t exactly have plenty of time to get to the event and unlike someone, she’d rather self-immolate than go places late. But she couldn’t let this go without drilling into his head that she wasn’t going to let a guy tell her what to wear. Superman or not.

“It’s alright, hon—”

“You know, I never would’ve known if I didn’t have a man to explain to me that high heels caused foot pain.”

“Lo—”

“I can’t read the journal of American Osteoporosis—”

“Osteopathic—”

“—Association myself because I’m a girl and I can’t read and I need a man to tell me about my own experiences wearing them and having my fucking feet hurt—” 

“Oh come on, Lois. That’s not fair, you know I didn’t mean it like—”

“What next?” She asked, throwing her hands in the air for dramatic effect. “Make up wipes are bad for me?” 

“They are. But you don’t use them that much anyway. So in the long term, it doesn’t—”

“Jesus, Clark! Read the room!” 

He shut himself up quickly, lips thinning to a straight line and his eyes regarding her like a kicked puppy looking for a belly scratch and treats. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across controlling or anything,” he said, looking down at her and scratching the back of his neck. “Or mansplain. Shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Damn right you shouldn’t have.” Her voice softened and in the interest of getting places on time, she decided to let it go. 

Rather than sitting down to put her shoes on, she grabbed on to his shoulders as she slid into them. His arm came around her waist and as soon as she was done, he picked her up and gave her a quick kiss. Mentally thanking transfer-proof lipstick technology, she grabbed him by his suit lapels and kissed him. Hard. 

One large hand on her ass, he carried her out the door– picked her purse up and wore it on his free arm, locked her door and went down the stairs still kissing her. When they reached the entrance to her building, she was in half a mind to ask that he carry her back up the stairs and have his way with her. 

It must’ve been the stairwell that did it for her. Coming home from work, they usually started shit as soon as the main door locked, carrying her up the stairs with one arm just because he could. Never failed to turn her on. 

But she kept herself in control. They had to get to the Newseum’s reopening on time and they had to get there by car because she couldn’t have the wind ruining her hair. Sure, he could fly slower but they weren’t going to restart the ‘Lois Lane made out with Superman’ rumors no matter how much he enjoyed them. 

When they returned– her slightly buzzed from the wine and him from her lips– they crashed on her couch, her back pressed against it and his chest against hers, pushing her further in as he devoured her. She pushed his oversized jacket off his shoulders, eager to see his perfectly sculpted body under his well fitted white shirt. It was always a white shirt that did her in. 

“Didn’t tell you–” he went back for a kiss, the transfer proof lipstick beginning to transfer after a long night of drinks and making out in hidden corners. 

“–how perfect–” she interrupted him this time with a kiss. 

“–you look today. ‘Cause of that stupid argument,” he said, kissing her again, his tongue between her lips. Tasted her like she was an unimaginably small serving of hors d'oeuvres from that night and he couldn’t get enough. 

“Does this open,” he asked, tugging on the zippers on her dress above her breasts. He tugged again and she shoved at his chest, laughing as he pouted and narrowed his eyes at the decorative zipper that refused to come undone. 

“Why would it open, Clark? It’s decorative.” 

“I don’t know!” he said defensively, a fingernail trailing over the zipper, the vibrations sending tingles through her. 

“Ah, so creeps like you can open it whenever they want.” 

“Creep!” he guffawed, hand creeping up her thigh under her dress. “You’re the one with the dirty mind. There could be other perfectly non-creepy functions to having zippers there.” 

“Uh huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Like?” 

“Umm… like… breastfeeding?” he winced at his own answer and she readjusted herself at once, closing her legs and letting his hand slip off her thigh. 

“Okay, fine. I just wanted to be a creep. Happy?” 

“Very,” she said, about to kick her shoes off but deciding against it. She would ask him to massage her feet– he’d done it a few times before and he was damn good at it. But after his remark about her shoes, she didn’t want to give him any satisfaction. Just as she reconsidered despite the potential ‘I told you so’, a thought struck her. 

“You know, Clark? It’s really weird, your thing about my shoes.” 

“I said I’m sor–”

“No, no. I got that. It’s weird because men usually like when women wear high heeled shoes.” 

“Guess I’m not like the other guys then.” 

“Right… Do you want a medal for that or…” 

“You’re just picking a fight now, Lois," he said, that cheeky knowing smile playing on his lips. And yeah, he wasn’t wrong. Every now and then, she baited him into something just to watch his cute little face scrunch up. He looked adorable putting his Smallville High debate club skills into action and losing terribly because Lois grew up debating a four-star General. 

He fucked hard when he lost. 

“I think my ass looks great in these shoes,” she said as his hand crept back up her thigh. 

He tightened his hand around her ass, a soft sigh escaping his lips and his eyes distant as though he was thinking about how the shoes made her ass look. “They do. Gosh, they do.” 

“I dress practical everyday, so I just wanted to dress sexy today.” 

“You look sexy without high heels on. Not worth hurting your back looking sexy when you look sexy everyday.” 

She believed him. Hard not to when he spent his first few weeks at the Planet looking at her with barely concealed awe. New hires tended to do that because she was Lois Lane. But they eventually got over it when she became more friendly with them. Not Clark. Even when he came out of his shell and began trading barbs with her, he looked at her with wide eyes. 

“I wear really flat shoes everyday.” 

He nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for her words. 

“Those aren’t great for my feet either.” 

“Right, they aren–”

“But you’ve never said anything to me about how bad they are. No quotations from the Journals of American Osteopathic Association then. You clearly have something against my high heeled shoes,” he said, holding a finger up when he made to argue back with her. 

“I don’t wear lifts in my shoes. It’s not fair that y–” 

“Not fair!?” she exclaimed, getting up from the couch. “So you just have something against me looking even slightly taller! Not fair. I can’t shoe my way into being taller than you, Clark! You are a whole foot taller.”

“I’m Six-foot-four. That’s one foot and one inch taller.” 

Oh my god! Even Superman was just a man. 

“You want me to be smaller so you can feel bigger than your girlfriend even though you’re fucking Superman and six-foot-nonsense inches.” Sure, she knew it wasn’t like that. He did have some midwestern casual misogyny in him but he was much better at it than when they first met and continued working on it. But it helped to get the truth out of him. 

Male guilt, a rarer variety than white guilt. Found once in a bluemoon– blue man.

“It’s not like that,” he said with a small shake of his head. He took his glasses off and tucked it at the V of his shirt collar. He pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing attention to his long eyelashes. 

He opened his mouth and closed it as though deciding against something he was going to say. “Lois, it’s not like that.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down, taking advantage of their positions. Silence usually did the trick when she wanted someone to talk. Even people who knew better— like Clark— said something just to cut through the tension. 

“I think it’s cute. Our height difference.” 

She continued the silent treatment and didn’t move her eyes from him. She wanted more.

He sighed and sat up straight on the couch. “I like that I’m tall and you’re tiny—”

“I’m the average height for an American woman!” Whoa. Okay. Turned out that was her weakness. She has gotten into arguments before about being average height and not short. Not unlike Clark disliking when she said he was 6’3 inches instead of his 6’4. 

Stop the presses! Breaking News! Local journalists HATE inaccuracies! 

“I mean relatively. It’s cute that we have such a vast height difference. It’s— I like it when you stand behind me to get shade from the sun, when we go grocery shopping and I get you stuff from the top shelves, and,” he paused, a glint in his eyes accompanying a smile. Pink bloomed on his cheeks and his voice transformed to a deep velvety one that came from his chest, “And I like looking down your shirt.” 

“You can look through my shirt.” 

“Yeah but you tell me to look through your shirt and it’s hot sure, but we both amticipate it. Looking down your shirt is different because it’s just an innocent little peek and, and I just stumble upon it— a fun surprise! Great when I’m having a stressful day.” 

“Not so different from other men then,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Gonna have to revoke that medal.”

“You never gave me a medal. Just asked if I expected one.”

She leaned over him, wishing she was wearing something that revealed a bit of cleavage. He looked entranced nonetheless, lips parting as she hiked her skirt up and knelt on his lap, one knee on each thigh. 

“What else do you like?” She asked, cupping his cheek and letting her thumb draw circles on his skin. He let out a shaky breath, his hand not the steadiest as he caressed her ass. 

“This. I like this.” 

“About our height difference, I mean. Surely it’s not just because you think it’s cute.” 

“It is cute,” he squeaked out, his wide eyes betraying less adorable reasons for liking their height difference. “We look so good together in pictures. And in the mirror.” 

“Mhmm…” she said, tightening her grip on his shoulder as she moved her knee to the center. Even as his eyes darkened, his hand slid down to the back of her other knee, holding her in place. “You don’t think it’s hot too?” 

“Y-yeah. It is.” 

“Tell me,” she said and snatched his glasses off his shirt before putting them on. His shirt button unobscured, she circled it with the tip of her finger, enjoying how such a small act made him grow harder under her knee. 

“I like that I have to bend down to kiss you. Or pick you up. Or stand a few steps down on the stairs. And when you tug me down by my tie to kiss me— I like that so much.” 

“What about when you fuck me? You still like that I’m tiny?” She asked, making him twitch under her knee. All she could think of was how big he was. How he had to stretch her out with his thick fingers before fucking her. Every. Single. Time. 

He nodded, gathered the bunched up hem of her dress and tugged it up. She took his glasses off and stretched her arms up long enough for him to take her dress off completely. Putting the glasses back on him, she crashed her lips against his. She untucked his shirt from his slacks and made quick way of his buttons as his hands roamed her body. 

The metallic clink of his belt buckle joined the obscenely wet sounds of their kisses, making her wet in anticipation of what was coming. 

She wrapped a hand around his girth through his underwear, managing a smile when he gasped into the kiss and grabbed her harder than he usually allowed himself. 

Whatever kink he had for her height, it had infected her too. The difference in their size felt more pronounced with everything she noticed about them. How he could touch more of her smaller body at once than she could touch of his large build with her dainty hands. 

Cold air touched her as he took her bra off, her nipples only hardening more from Clark’s appreciative hum. He pinched them between his fingers, eliciting a silent gasp from her. All the self-control and shyness had left his eyes, replaced by unadulterated need. Yet he reached behind her ear and took her earring back out before doing the same with the other. That he remembered she liked certain earrings off before sex only made her want him more. 

“Mirror.”

“Let me prep you first,” he said, tugging her panties down. 

“Now, Clark,” she whined and he wasted no time standing up with her. Her panties kept her knees closed, preventing her from wrapping her legs around him the way she always did. His pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them before carrying her to her bedroom. She let her legs dangle helplessly even when she was rid of her panties, aroused by just how high up he had to hold her, how easily he did it without needing her cooperation.  

He took her to her closet. Small, cramped and highlighting just how big he was. He kicked her basket of socks aside and took his place in front of the full-length mirror. A swipe of his hand and the other things she had hanging off the mirror came down– two bags, a scarf, a belt, and who knew what else.

She clenched around nothing at the act. It was so unusual for Clark who always so considerate. To be wanted so bad a man who touched everything with kindness pushed things off in a hurry to have her… Fuck…

He grabbed her by the back of her knee and wrapped her leg around himself, letting her do the same with the other. He was broad, stretching her legs wide apart, but nothing compared to how wide she’s had to spread around his shoulders. 

“You’re gonna let me have you like this?” 

She nodded, grinding herself against his clothed cock, desperate to have him inside her. 

“Open your mouth,” he said, touching her lips with his ring and middle fingers.

She took his fingers between her lips, sucking on them like she would his cock. She hollowed her cheeks and trained her gaze on him, enjoying how entranced he was by the sight. He swallowed audibly and she knew he was thinking about it— the many times she got on her knees and made him weak in his. She let her teeth graze against his fingers as he pulled out, giving him a smug smile as she thought of how much he enjoyed the pain of her teeth lightly grazing his cock.

He snaked a hand between their bodies and found her cunt. Warm and wet and aching to be filled. He parted her folds with his fingers, letting just one thick digit enter her. She rolled her hips, taking his finger nice and slow until it was fully buried in her. He set a steady pace, neither slow nor fast, her slick dripping onto his fingers as he prepared her for his cock. He added another finger, stretching her out as she brought her hand to her clit. 

Just his fingers were enough to ruin her for other men, for herself. Too many nights when he was gone, she found herself frustrated with her too thin fingers unable to fill her up the way his did. 

She saw them under a different light after their first night together. How he struggled the slightest with typing because his fingers were so thick and was conscious he’d break the keys with his speed. How the large coffee he bought her looked like a small in his. How small her face seemed when he cupped her cheek. 

She held his face in her hand, leaning in for a kiss. They were warm and soft, inviting her to take more. He parted his lips and she took advantage, slipping her tongue inside. 

He curled his fingers inside her at just the right angle for her to gasp. She tried to get closer to him, pressing her soft breasts against his hard chest. The wet sounds of their kiss joined the lecherous sounds of his fingers inside her. 

He always took care of her first before he fucked her. Had to because he was too big for her to take without preparation. But she was too desperate this time to wait any longer. 

“Now, Clark,” she said, pulling back from the kiss. 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, nodding as she groped around for his cock. 

His breath hitched when she wrapped her hand around his girth, letting out a soft laugh as she began stroking him. 

“What?” She asked, amused. 

“You’re out of condoms.” 

“Nooo,” she whined. “There should be one left still. After…after the time on the floor.” 

“We went a second time that night, remember? You wanted to celebrate when—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, nodding. An incel podcaster who’d made a few attempts at her life and encouraged young boys to be more hateful to women had been killed by one of the guys he sold an overpriced online class on getting women— sorry, getting bitches. It had to be celebrated.

He walked her outside her closet and put her down on the bed. She sighed as he pulled his fingers out, pussy clenching as he casually licked her arousal off. 

In a short gust of wind, he was Superman again, wearing everything but his boots and cape. A short gust of wind and he was gone. In just two seconds he was in front of her holding a box of magnums. 

Lois couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Superman, hair all slicked back by the wind, sans cape, barefoot and holding a box of size large condoms. They would be settled for life selling that picture. 

“Did you go to the store?” She asked between her laughter. 

“Gosh no,” he said, the cutest smile on his face as he retrieved a packet out of the box. Before she knew it, he was naked again, suit discarded on her floor like it wasn’t a grand symbol of hope for the whole planet. 

He tore it open with his teeth and got to putting it on as he walked towards her. “Got it from my place.” 

“Okay, good. As funny as it would be, I don’t wanna see a headline about you buying condoms at the downtown CVS.” 

“Gosh, I can’t even imagine,” he said, picking her up and kissing her. She laughed between quick pecks, thinking of the headlines Cat might come up with. 

“Hey, hey. Hear this,” she said, hand moving around like she held blocks of words in the air, “Superdick? Superman Caught Buying Super Large Condoms for Supersexy Time.”

“Perry would not let them print Superdick, Lois,” he said, chest rumbling with laughter as he walked them back to her closet. 

“The Daily Star would have no qualms.” 

“True that.” 

At this point in a relationship, she usually relied on her IUD rather than condoms. They were both clean and for fuck’s sake, she told him she loved him. That was the furthest she’d gotten in a relationship. But with his biology being what it was, they decided an additional physical barrier was safer to prevent accidental pregnancy. 

He lined himself up at her entrance. Seemingly as desperate as she was, he kept from teasing. He entered her, slow and hesitant. Cunt slick from his fingers’ work, she took him in slowly, sighing at the stretch. 

“Gosh, Lois… Ya feel so good,” He said, sweeping his tongue across his bottom lip as though he could taste her cunt. Soft pink lips glistened under the dim light of her closet, pulling her in like bees to flowers. 

It never got old, being so up close and seeing the adoration in his face. Clark, who flew across the skies and witnessed the most spectacular landforms, gazing at her like she hung the stars… 

His awestruck gaze drew her in and when she cupped his cheek, he inclined his head and leaned in. It began much like their conversations, light and teasing before it grew heated, sparks flying like words did. It should’ve been disconcerting, the way he looked at her without blinking once. The intensity of it all should’ve made her shut her eyes, but she forced herself to see him. To see how much he loved her. 

Lois could feel the thud of their hearts beating in a rhythm of their own as he fucked her in shallow thrusts. Oh, fuck! Was that how he felt all the time? Hearing her heart beat for him when he so much as sent a smile her way in the middle of their workday… Hearing her when he said he loved her and when he cooked for her and when she asked Superman questions on the street. 

Spurred on by his heartbeats, she fucked herself onto him, taking more than he gave. He took the message and went in deeper, making her feel fuller and fuller the more he took. 

Clark moved from her lips, kissing and nibbling her skin on his path to her neck. Anticipating it was enough to make her clench around him. The curve of his lips as he claimed that spot on the side of her neck told her he enjoyed what he could do for her.

“Look at us,” he sighed, his warm breath tickling her neck. “So. Perfect.”

Reflected on the mirror was the answer to why he liked her short. Her hand stilled on her clit and she bucked up against him, shaken by how powerful he looked. Of course he did; he was Superman. But it was more than that. 

Both arms snaked around her even though he only needed one, holding her like she was something precious. Breath strained not from the effort of holding her but from fucking her. Clark, the sweet man who apologized to inanimate objects being the same person as Superman who could crush the world between his fingers… Clark who wouldn’t say fuck having a thing for fucking her helpless. Clark, who no matter how hard he fucked her, was always gentle because he couldn’t use any amount of his strength on her.

“Clark… ‘m so full… so f-fucking full…” she moaned trembling as her clit rubbed against him in a strange new way she couldn’t place. 

“Just a little bit…” he cooed, his gentle voice and sweet kisses contradicting the filthy way he was taking over her completely. 

“H-how,” she sobbed, shocked there was still more. She’d never felt so full before, not even with Clark. Nevertheless she begged for it. “Please…fu-uuuck!”

“I know, baby. I know,” he said, fucking her in the shallowest thrusts, taking her a little deeper each time. “Deep breaths. You’ve taken me so many times, Lois. You can do it again, can’t you?” 

“Oh, fuck you!” 

He had the audacity to laugh at that, making her squeeze his cock harder, something she thought an impossibility with how much he stretched her. The only saving grace for her dignity was the little mewl he let out. 

Forehead pressed to hers, he said, “So tight… s-so good f’ me.” 

“Oh fuck, Clark!” she cried as he prodded her cervix, thanking the stars that this never hurt her. Something she hadn’t discovered about her body until Clark. 

“Look so darn gorgeous bouncin’ on my cock, baby.” 

Her mouth fell open in a gasp when she realized he wasn’t thrusting into her anymore, rather standing in place and fucking her onto his cock like she was just an instrument to his pleasure. The sight should intimidate her as should the reminder of his power. He could simply throw her around and fuck her in whatever way he wished and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. But he wouldn’t and that was just hotter.

Nails digging into his biceps, she was reminded that she couldn’t wrap her hand even halfway around it. She looked so small and he was so big and Lois could swear she wasn’t one of those women who wouldn’t consider dating a man below six feet but it was such a fucking turn on how large he was.

Lois was helpless, not against brute force, but against the carnal pleasure he lavished her with. Every bit a protagonist on a bodice ripper cover being ravished by a big and strong but kind man. 

Fuck, it was so clichéd. She loved Superman taking her rough in front of the mirror. About as basic bitch as she could get after her love of pumpkin spice lattes in the fall. 

“Faster,” she whimpered, her legs tightening around him.

“Anything you want,” he growled into her neck as he picked up pace. His hands held her ass firmly, plump flesh taut between his fingers that dug in deep. He didn’t have to hold her so tight, but she liked that he did. Liked that he was desperate enough for her body to hold her tight enough to hurt.

“Just like…mmm!”

“Gosh, you’re perfect… love you. l-love you s’ much.”

Lois wanted to say it back, shout it to the world, or at least loud enough for her neighbors to hear but she couldn’t say much as he rammed into her repeatedly. 

“Say you like it, Lois.” 

“Mmm… like,” she slurred, too cock-drunk for coherent speech. 

“No. Tell me you like how big I am.” 

She couldn’t say shit. Probably would never say something like that. Nevertheless, she clenched tight around him at the demand. 

“You love it. Look— look at you,” he strained through the exertion, eyes boring into her reflection on the mirror. “Say it.” 

Skin slapped against skin and she was reduced to animalistic sounds that he punched out of her with every thrust. She couldn’t even hold herself up straight, let alone talk be it to give in to his demand or retaliate. 

“I could do this all night. Keep you right here ‘n not let you come till you say it.” 

The open threat got to her before she could give in, her mouth falling open and her vision turning a blinding white. Eyes rolled back into her head and if he wasn’t holding her tight, she would’ve fallen back from how suddenly she lost control. Everything stilled in that moment, the world narrowing to just her body and the maddening pleasure he inflicted on it. 

He cradled her close to his chest and slowed down to the torturous pace that suited him better. Even with her brain turned to mush, her heart warmed at him prioritizing her needs over his own. Selfless Clark exacting his pleasure from her body with abandon brought the familiar build up of pleasure back to the pit of her stomach. 

Managing to open her eyes just a sliver, she caught a blurry image of him slamming her over and over on his cock, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. 

He could do that all night long. With his physiology, all he needed was a few short minutes to recover. She needed him to fuck her all night long. Drain her of thoughts and feelings until she was but an instrument for his desires. 

Her cunt, still fluttering from the effects of her orgasm clenched around him painfully at the thought. Oh how bad she wanted him to make good on that threat… 

Garbled words sounded somewhere in the distance though she was right there, his lips the closest they could be to her ear. A second wave of pleasure rippled through her, weaker but shaking her world as it crashed into the remnants of her last orgasm. 

All she could make out was the sound of her name on his lips. Each strained cry of Lois dripped with need like he missed her though they were the closest they could be without their bodies melting together. Then he stilled deep inside her, shuddering as he found release. 

Clark walked them out of her closet and to her bathroom. It’s silly that he carried her around like a dog with his favorite toy but she wouldn’t make fun of him. The emptiness when he pulled out of her would’ve been too much to take lying all alone in bed. Even for a moment. 

A giggle escaped her when he took her to bed, still holding her in his arms. How dare he look at her with those puppy eyes like he hadn’t just rearranged her insides…

“What?” He asked, amused. 

She shook her head, but proceeded to explain herself anyway, “American Osteopathic Association, my ass. You're just a horndog who doesn't care about my health."

"Of course I care about your health!" he protested, looking genuinely hurt. Fucking adorable.

"Uh huh. Well, that’s one more thing on the list of things no one would ever guess you’re into.” 

“Oh stop,” he laughed, cheeks going pink from embarrassment. It was funny he could fly directly towards the sun without a hint of pink but a little teasing from her turned him into a tomato. 

“What? It’s true. I never thought mild mannered Clark Kent would threaten to hold my orgasm hostage and fuck me all night long.” 

“That was just— Lois, it’s dirty talk. I say things to— it got you off, didn’t it?” 

“So it was just something you said in the heat of the moment.” 

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Lois, you know I like making you come. I wouldn’t be...controlling.” 

“Shame. I was going to put that on our list,” she said, referring to the list they kept of the things they wanted to try in bed. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Lois laughed as he leapt up and returned with their sex list notepad and a pen. Damn, superspeed...

She wasn’t going to stop wearing high heels, American Osteopathic Association and Clark Kent be damned. But she had a lot of plans to torment him with her footwear in the near future.