⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 25 ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
✧˚ ⋆｡˚ aquarius/INFP ✧˚ ⋆｡˚
✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ demi-sexual she/her/they/them ✦ʚ♡ɞ✦
﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏ multi-fandom whore ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏
𓆩♡𓆪 just here to produce & consume (A03 under same name) 𓆩♡𓆪
✨yes my blog name is an acronym for BDSM✨
This is just a little something I did for MYSELF and I thought I'd share! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Important things to note:
18+ MDNI
Trigger Warnings: (will update as I go along, if I ever forget any pls pls pls notify me):
none so far
Reader is racially ambiguous so I will be using pics of women of ALL skin/hair types. HOWEVER, Reader is FAT!!!! She's a bigger girl because I'm a bigger girl ૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა Feel free to read it though everyone is welcome!!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Costco/Seafood Boil
Nail Set
Interior Designer
Random Socials
Credit: banner by @saradika-graphics and header by @strangergraphics
prime is the definition of pussywhipped, eating you out like it’s his last meal. he’d hold your hips down, whine into your folds, lap your cunt up like a dog, and when you’d pull back, he’ll just pull you closer. he can never get enough. he’s literally superman, the strongest person on earth, yet he's on his knees begging you to wrap your thighs around his head. “so good f’me,” he’d mumble into your folds, “taste like heaven, must be heaven.” the vibrations of his voice making your body tremble. “only i can make you feel this good.” his praise is endless.
his ego is stroked every time you cum on his tongue, making you arch your back and curl your toes. he’s obsessed with the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you look when he’s got you wrecked. and if you try to close your legs on him, he’ll just pry them open again with inhuman strength. he doesn’t care if he’s overstimulating you, he’ll make sure you’re taking every bit of pleasure he has to offer. he’ll make you beg for more, beg to stop, beg for him to do anything else. but he won’t, he won’t stop until you’re an overstimulated, blubbering mess.
summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.
content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic
2k words whew
with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
.
on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.
starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.
that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.
and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.
every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.
after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.
then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.
it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!
the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.
clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.
he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-
in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.
noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.
he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.
you think you could ascend.
you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."
curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.
his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.
he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.
because clark has never looked this feral.
his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.
"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.
the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.
.
how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.
and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.
he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.
he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.
despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.
a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.
you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.
he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.
in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.
your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.
with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.
"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.
he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.
a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"
"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."
clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.
a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.
Synopsis: Pope saves you from a sketchy situation.
Characters: Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader, no use of y/n
Word count: 1525
"That's bullshit!" Craig shouts from his corner of the bar.
Baz looks unimpressed. "I call it like I see it."
They've been arguing about the logistics of the next job for thirty minutes now. When Craig had called this meeting, he'd only mentally planned on being here for fifteen. Tops.
Pope looks over at Deran to see if he has a plan to move this shit along, but he continues deflecting by wiping down glasses. Figures.
"I'm telling you, man, I can get us in!" Craig slams a hand down on the bar top, glasses scattering from the force.
"How? By trying to hook up with the receptionist?" Baz scoffs. "That's a weak plan at best."
"God, you always do this-"
Pope huffs and picks at a lifting cuticle on his thumb. Same shit, different day. He'd plan something if he could trust any of his brothers to listen to him. But ever since Folsom, he's been outsourced as the muscle. He does the dirty work. He doesn't think.
"Pope's in, right, man?" Craig abruptly questions. Baz pins him with a look, all but challenging him to say yes. Deran leans back against the wall.
Pope shrugs and opens his mouth. Before he can answer, his phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out to see if it's you.
"I've got to take this."
He ignores their jeers and protests from behind his back as he pushes outside. Jesus. He's been in there so long with them, it's night now.
"Hey baby," he murmurs, pressing the speaker close to his ear.
"Andrew."
He stills, dread sinking into his stomach. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know. Maybe nothing."
But it's not nothing, because your voice is shaking.
"Tell me."
Every second that goes by, his pulse beats louder in his ears.
"I was craving those gummy worms that you know I like, so I decided to take a dusk walk to the convenience store by my apartment. You know, the one on the corner by the post office?"
He hums in agreement, so you continue.
"Well, it was such a beautiful night so I decided to smoke a j on the way... and I think I'm being followed."
He growls into the phone, fishing his keys out of his pocket and practically stomping to his car. He doesn't even consider telling his brothers where he's going. They'll figure it out without him.
"Where are you?"
"Maybe I'm wrong! Maybe the weed is making me paranoid and-"
"Where are you now?" he asks sharply again, cutting you off. He'll be the one to decide if you were wrong.
"I'm still here. It's dark and I'm scared to leave..." Your voice drops to a whisper. "But oh god, he's in here too. It's been like fifteen minutes but he hasn't left. He might be waiting for me."
"Do not go anywhere. Stay on the phone with me. I'll be there in five minutes."
It was at least a fifteen minute drive, but damn it, he'd make it in five.
"Fuck, Andrew. I'm so high. Why am I so high? I should've known-"
"You haven't done anything wrong." His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel, engine screaming from how hard he's pushing it. "You should've called me fifteen minutes ago though."
"I'm sorry," you choke out and he immediately feels bad for scolding you. "I thought I was being dumb."
"You're never being dumb. Never. I will always come get you. I don't give a shit if it's three A.M."
"I know you will," you whisper.
"Is he still there?"
The silence on the other end feels suffocating. He calls out your name again and checks to make sure the call didn't drop.
"Sorry, he was walking right by me. I had to wait until he passed."
Pope's mind flashes through all the possible weapons he has in his car. He's not worried the guy will fight him-- no, he just wants to make him pay for scaring the shit out of you. The pistol under his driver's seat. The knife in the glovebox. His fists.
"I'm almost there, baby. Two minutes."
His tires skid as he takes a turn particularly hard. His eyes flash in the rearview mirror to make sure no cops are around. The last thing he needs is to be pulled over.
Finally, the familiar building comes into view. It looks totally different at night than it does during the day. Lively streets have been traded for a ghost town with all kinds of sketchy people wandering through the surrounding alleys. He never would've let you walk here.
He hardly slows when he throws the car in park, opting to leave his truck diagonal in the middle of the lot. The bell of the door rings when he bursts in and the cashier looks over with wide eyes. Her shoulders are tense too, like she's picked up on the bad energy from your stalker, but her face carries a mixture of relief and fear at Pope walking through.
"Come on," he addresses you, gripping your shoulders to look you over and ensure you're not hurt.
Your hand is still wrapped around the candy you came for, although he notices the slight tremble in them. He pushes whatever cash he has in his pocket toward the register, but doesn't even wait for her to scan them before steering you outside. He opens the passenger door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt for you.
When he enters the driver's side, his anger is renewed when he sees how pale you look and the way you have a hand clutched over your chest. He weaves his fingers through yours and gently squeezes.
"I will never let anything happen to you. You're okay. I've got you."
You nod, exhaling a shaky breath before it hitches in your throat.
"That's him."
Pope's jaw tenses, molars grinding on bone, as he watches the man drop all of the snacks he'd picked up on the counter and walk out without paying. Not taking a single, goddamned thing.
"He was walking around, picking out stuff like he wanted it..." You squeak, looking over at him with wide eyes.
He's heard enough. He turns on the engine and pulls out. Part of him wants to offer to go beat the shit out of him for you, but he knows you'll decline. The most important thing is getting you safe and home.
When you're back at your apartment, you curl into Pope's side and breathe in the soft aftershave in his neck. Your arms curl around his neck, like you're trying to meld you both into one person. His hand gently rubs your back.
"What happened?" he quietly asks, not wanting to startle you.
You sigh. "I was having a good time, enjoying my walk when I got this weird feeling. I kinda looked behind me and that guy was trailing me, but I figured we were both headed the same direction."
You look down, fidgeting with your fingers.
"But he kept getting closer. By then, I started noticing how dark it was getting and how no one was around. I couldn't turn around to go home, or he'd know where I lived."
He brushes a tear away from your cheek before it can fall. You hadn't even noticed you were crying.
"Sorry," you breathe, still feeling amped up on lingering adrenaline. "I was just so scared. I've never felt so much like prey in my life. It was like every cell in my body screaming at me to run."
"That's good," he coos, framing your cheeks in his hands. "You picked up that something was wrong. But please call me sooner next time," he begs, sounding more wrecked than you've ever heard him.
He's spent the better part of the hour trying not to imagine all of the scenarios where he doesn't get to you in time. Where you don't notice you're being followed and walk back home in the dark.
You run a soothing hand through his curls, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. He tilts his face up to softly brush his lips on yours.
"I will. Promise." You crack a small smile, almost as if you know you've terrified him tonight and want to break the tension. "But at least I got my gummy worms."
"Jesus Christ," he groans, pushing his face into your shoulder. "I'm gonna buy you fifty pounds of gummy worms so you never go anywhere."
And after ordering your favorite Thai takeout and watching movies together, when you finally knock out with that serene smile gracing your mouth, he slips out your front door. He meticulously scans dimly lit streets until he spots a familiar piece of shit.
And when his knuckles make contact with his jaw, stomach, cheekbone-- he knows he won't stop. Maybe can't stop.
But that's why the desert is his favorite place. Too much sand to ever search. And when he sneaks back into your room, before dawn with your favorite donuts in hand, you're none the wiser. Still perfect and whole and his.
Just getting back into writing-- would love any feedback! Thanks for reading :)
ok buuut sugar daddy!clark x sugar baby!reader, who loves to spoil her and mindlessly gives her his credit card. he's so sweet that she decides to “spoil” him in return...
you have caused a mayhem in my mind amor..bc i can't stop thinking ab them.....hope ur happy.....................(ily.)
tags: smut, older!clark, sugar baby!reader, unspecified age gap, remote sex play, sex toys (1k + wc)
—
your friends never understood your taste in men.
older, rougher, sweeter. you wanted someone who would take care of you. someone who would never leave if what you had left to offer didn't serve their own needs. maybe it was a commentary on whatever paternal love you lacked in adolescence. but your taste in men was just that, a need for a sturdy & constant presence.
when clark kent came into your life, he didn't hold back. years of superhero work aged him years beyond his actual age — though that was more of a metaphor — he was weary & restless for someone he could entirely spoil with decades worth of idle income from his external revenue streams. money that was turned down by ma & pa who only ever needed their son to visit during the holidays. so when he had the opportunity to spoil you, he didn't want to spook you away with too much too fast.
you very quickly learned that your boyfriend heard everything. all the things you could never really afford on your own paycheck, clark would buy with no arguments. and often, without your knowledge — for example, the overtly expensive body wash you briefly mentioned in passing at sephora. salt & stone's santal and vetiver. the entire collection, with the lotion, deodorant & mist, all sat by your kitchen countertop, with a receipt neatly tucked beneath if you wished to exchange the scents.
it was never a performative gesture either. he wouldn't mention any of those 'presents' he'd gotten for you. the day you addressed it was when he surprised you with a brand new honda s2000, custom-coated in metallic burgundy.
"this is, way way wayyy much, clark."
he could only look at you in adoration as you thrust the keys back against his chest. a clear refusal to his far-too generous gift, "i…can't accept this."
"yes, you can." clark's palm dwarfs yours, pressing it against his chest, where you could feel the thrum of his heart beat. steady and unnerved at the apparent purchase. "didn't you say the engine was messed up? and you were stranded until i could come get you." his free hand come up to rest on your cheeks. "what if that happens and i can't get to you in time? i can't have that."
"but clark," you try, words cut short with a gentle press of his thumb against your lower lip.
"let me do this for you. take care of everything else so you don't ever have to worry about things you shouldn't have to. okay?" his voice, resolute, left no room for doubt in your mind that this man wanted nothing more than to spoil you rotten & keep you safe.
what you didn't realise, was that your eventual relentment had come with a sleek, heavy, metallic black card. with no credit limit, to be used at your discretion. every whim of yours was satiated by clark's unwavering generosity.
you wanted to return the favour, naturally. not that clark asked anything of you, he wouldn't have entertained your offer anyway. but this time, this time you might've thought of something that would work.
clark lifts the dainty, velvety red box seated on his desk, adorned with a gold ribbon. a note sits beside it, with your endearing scrawl in blue ink.
i found us a middle ground. xx
the sparkly mesh pools beside the paperwork on his study as he undoes the covering, popping the hefty box open. inside — sat a small, printed card. a QR code.
puzzled, clark follows the instructions on his device. slumping into his seat as he's prompted to install an application. despite his weariness, he trusts you. before him is a screen — a simple user interface of adjustment settings. his brows furrow further as he scrolls down to a map, the gps icon indicating a quaint little bar downtown. a place you mentioned you were headed to meet a few friends.
on the other side of town, you feel your phone buzz, no doubt from a very perplexed clark.
"hi baby!" you chirp, covering your ears to retreat to a more quieter area of the space.
clark sighs softly, the sound of your voice soothing the aches of his day away, "hi sweetheart. i just got home. having fun?"
you hum, rocking at the balls of your feet, "depends. did you download the app yet?"
he pauses, "yeah. i'm not sure what it's for, though."
"put me on speaker," you instruct simply, clark obliges, waiting for your next steps, "you see the controls and settings? it should be labelled under modes."
"i see it," his voice is distant, you can picture how he'd have probably been squinting at his phone, phone held far. "uh. says outdoor mode, rhythm pulse, and … confetti…mode? did you buy a mood light?"
clark doesn't warn you when he clicks on the most intense setting just to start. you let out a choked, high-pitched gasp, hand snapping over your mouth to cover it. "j-jesus baby…warn….ahh…warn me…"
"what's going on," clark stiffens over the speaker, concerned, "are you okay?"
"i-i am, baby. but fuck — you clicked the most…ngh…"
he frowns when your words taper off, breathy, softer moans bleeding through his speakers. "i'm coming to get you. now."
"no!" you squeak, standing up straighter, though your thighs quiver steadily at the hard pulse of the vibrator presently wedged deep in your cunt. "the app…the app is for a remote sex toy." you whisper, bated.
clark goes silent on the other end, for so long that you had to check if he hung up.
"…it's in you now." he says, quietly to himself, drawing back to swipe down the screen, where there'd been a custom setting for him to control, or set the pulse for you.
"m-mhm.." you relax as the sensations slow, presumably from him now tinkering on the application. "jus' thought…y'know…when we're you're busy…you can still take care of me."
he huffs out a laugh as he drags his hand down his face, "jeez…where do you come up with this stuff?"
you grin to yourself, biting on your lower lip as he explores the different pulsing features. "mmmn…figured you wouldn't…turn down a present like…ah — this…"
"i gotta say…i'm not sure if i'm loving the idea of you getting stimulated with…well…without me…" he admits, the twitch of his cock in his sweats betraying his words. begrudgingly, he raises the vibration, only to hear your breathy whimpers in time.
"it's what i want…" you begin, slipping into the bathroom of the bar, "plus…mmmn…when i come home, i'll be wet and ready f'you…"
clark groans loudly, you don't hear anything after that, except the sound of wind, "you can't be saying stuff like that and expect me to sit still."
"you say that but you're doing such….a good…job…" you manage, thighs quivering as the vibrations pulse harder in you. trying to summon all the willpower to not rub at your clit. "fuck. want you here. so bad."
"where are you." he cuts, and you hear a familiar thump of music.
"um…bathroom? where are you —"
the door to the handicapped stall slams open, and you squeak. clark presses a finger on his lip to shush you, with the lock clicking loudly. he raises his phone, with a lop-sided grin on his face.
"let's see what other options there are on this, hmm?"
cw ⋮⋮ mdni ⋮⋮ nipple play ⋮⋮ oral fixation ⋮⋮ emotional vulnerability ⋮⋮ comfort sex ⋮⋮ 0.4k
“aemond…” you moan softly, back arching off the bed as his mouth closes over your breast.
he came back late, still carrying the day on him. he didn’t say a word when he walked in. just pulled your nightgown down and pressed his face straight into your chest like he couldn’t wait another second. now he’s nuzzling in deep, nose and lips dragging over the soft skin between your breasts before he takes one nipple into his mouth and starts to suck.
it’s slow at first. careful. like he’s trying to calm himself down. a low, shaky moan leaves him against your skin as he sucks, tongue moving in slow circles before he pulls your nipple deeper. you feel the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pull that sends sparks down your spine.
you slide your fingers into his long silver hair, holding the back of his head gently, keeping him there. your body arches up into his mouth without thinking, offering yourself, letting him take what he needs.
he groans again, the sound vibrating right through your chest as he switches to the other breast. he sucks slower now, flicking his tongue softly. one of his hands comes up to hold your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple he just left, wet and sensitive under his touch.
his hips shift against the bed, grinding down in slow, restless movements. you can feel how hard he is, how badly he needs the friction, but he doesn’t stop sucking. he stays right there, face buried in your chest, breathing you in between every pull of his mouth. you feel the tension in his shoulders start to loosen the longer he stays latched on.
you stay quiet except for the soft, breathy sounds that slip out when he sucks a little harder. your fingers move slowly through his hair, stroking, holding him close. letting him feel how warm and soft you are.
eventually his hand drifts lower, fingers sliding between your legs where you’re already wet. he touches you gently, rubbing slow circles while his mouth never leaves your breast. he keeps sucking like he can’t bring himself to stop even as his fingers move against you.
when it gets to be too much, he lifts his head just enough to look at you. you know what he wants before he can even get the words out. you give a small nod as you gently card your fingers through his hair.
he shifts up your body and pushes into you slow, the thick stretch making your breath catch. the second he’s inside, he drops his head right back down and takes your breast into his mouth again. he sucks as he starts to move — deep, steady thrusts that keep his face pressed tight to your chest.
you hold him there, fingers tangled gently in his hair. your soft moans mix with the wet sounds of his mouth on you and the slow drag of him inside you.
Imagine surprising Clark by shaving your bush into the shape of a heart.
Like, he gets home after a long day at the Daily Planet; he's exhausted, and all he wants is for you to suffocate him with your thighs and pussy for at least an hour. Multiple hours if he had his way.
Of course, you don't deny him; his puppy eyes are impossible to resist, but when you finally tear off your panties, he's met with…
A heart.
He’s met with a heart.
Yeah, he audibly whimpers. Like full-on whines. He also might've just cummed a little. Ignore the stain, please. If he wasn't so pussywhipped, he'd be embarrassed.
“So, uh—” he gulped. “—watcha got going on there?”
You giggled, more like cackled, at his awestruck demeanor. “Do you like it? I did it just for you.” You pointedly wiggled your hips, and for a moment he swore he saw heaven.
This was unfair. You sprawled out on his bed, completely bare, and with a fucking heart between your legs. How was he supposed to survive?
Superman, Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, defeated by his girlfriend shaving her bush into a heart.
“Thank you, Universe, for blessing me with this gift of a woman.” He bowed his head in silent prayer, muttering the words beneath his breath.
“Are you seriously praying?” you snickered.
“I’m saying grace.”
“Amen.” He gave one final bow of his head, then leaped forward, burying himself between your thighs. Where he was meant to be.
If you're writing anything involving cons, scams, heists, or morally questionable characters who are very good at lying, here are some free resources I've been using for research. Saving you the "why is this in my search history" anxiety.
1. The FBI's Famous Cases & Criminals archive (fbi.gov/history/famous-cases) has detailed breakdowns of real fraud cases, Ponzi schemes, and confidence operations. The language they use is clinical and precise, which is perfect for getting the procedural details right.
2. The FTC Consumer Sentinel Network publishes annual reports on the most common fraud tactics in the US. Great for understanding how modern scams actually work and what makes people fall for them.
3. The Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a free digital collection of forgery case studies. If your character forges documents or art, this is gold.
4. Court Listener (courtlistener.com) is a free legal database where you can read actual court transcripts from fraud trials. Want to know how a real con artist talks under oath? This is where you find out.
5. The Internet Archive's collection of old newspaper crime sections. Search for "confidence man" or "swindle" in papers from the 1920s through 1960s and you'll find incredible real stories that would feel too dramatic for fiction.
Bonus: The Psychology of Fraud section on the Association for Psychological Science website has accessible articles about why people trust, how deception works cognitively, and what makes someone a convincing liar. Essential reading if you want your con artist characters to feel psychologically real.
Reblog to save for later. Your WIP will thank you.
should I be doing classwork? yes.
am I creating more stress for myself later by writing this instead of doing said classwork? also yes.
worth it, though. enjoy <3
wc: 1.2k
warnings.
SMUT, no use of y/n, implied relationship, cowgirl position bc he likes looking up into your eyes 🥰, interrupted sex except you keep going while he's on the phone oopsie 🤭, kinda silly & playful (not super serious), mutual orgasms, cute ending.
clark kent taglist: @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @kissmxcheek @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @mollymal @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @dreamreaperrr @sullyosully @marymustdie @dadwh0re @pumpkinspicedlove @emergencycontact @alwayslikekath @angelkisscherie
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ ma & pa kent call at an...inopportune time. ✧
"S-Shoot..."
Clark groans softly, his head tipping back for a moment. Both of your hands are on his shoulders, nails digging into his white button-up as you move up and down on top of him. He barely even got through the front door before you were on him, not that he minds.
"Oh, god," you breathe, starting to swivel your hips a bit with each bounce. "You just looked so good today...could barely contain myself..."
He smiles, hands smoothing down over your hips to give your thighs a firm squeeze.
"Really? I couldn't tell."
You chuckle, replaying the memory of you pulling him into a hall closet today at the Daily Planet for a quick make-out session that may or may not have involved teased him to the point he had to stay behind for a minute to calm down...
"You loved it."
Clark reaches around to give your ass a quick little pinch, which earns him a little surprised gasp.
"I never said I didn't," he says. "I would be a very foolish man to complain about something like that."
You smile, leaning in to kiss him deeply as you begin to speed up your rhythm. He grunts against your lips, leaning up into the kiss. Just when he pulls back and looks up at you, lips slightly parted as if he's ready to say something...
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
"Just ignore it," you hum, nipping his bottom lip, but he's already reaching for it.
"Lemme just make sure..." he manages, looking at the caller ID. "It's Ma."
"Definitely ignore it, then," you chuckle. "You can call her back later."
Guilt flashes across Clark's face. He really hates missing Ma's calls, always worried that something is wrong, since they're getting a little older. You sigh at the sight, slowing to a stop on top of him.
"Go ahead and answer it."
"Are you--?"
"Just answer it, babe."
He nods, giving you a quick peck on the lips before picking up the call, lifting the phone to his ear.
"H-Hey, Ma," Clark says. "Listen, can I call you back in--"
"Clark? Pa needs help with the computer again."
He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. Oh boy.
"Uh," he looks up at you, already apologizing with his eyes. "...sure. I don't have much time but--"
"Hey, Clark, it's Pa. I'm trying to print somethin' out here but it's not giving me the option to print. How do I tell it to print?"
Clark lets out a soft sigh, looking up at the ceiling, not really wanting to look at you on top of him when he's talking to his Pa about computers. He starts to ask some questions, nodding along while Pa talks.
After a couple minutes, you rest your hands on his chest and hum softly, smirking as you begin to shift on top of him, testing the waters. His hand instantly grips your hip, silently pleading you to stay still.
But you're not really in much of a mood to make this easy on him. You're not mad at him for answering the call, not really, but you never said you were gonna stop while he talks...
When you rise up slightly and sit back down, his breath catches and his head immediately tilts forward until his eyes meet yours, slightly widened.
"Don't," he mouths, shaking his head.
You shrug, still smirking as you rise up and sit down again. A shiver runs down his spine at your mischievous smirk, and his hips instinctively thrust up against you, letting out a shaky breath.
"Clark? Clark, you still there? I think I got it saved as a, uh...PDF."
"Y-Yeah," he says into the phone, not taking his eyes off of you. "That's great, Pa. Now go to your desktop...a-and...and open the PDF."
You lean in so your lips are next to his open ear, letting out a soft whine in his ear.
"You're making me so hot, Clark," you whisper, your voice soft but sultry. "I love it when you talk PDFs with me."
He nearly chuckles, biting his lip to keep from making any incriminating noises as his grip on your hip tightens ever so slightly. His focus is slipping and he really hopes Pa won't ask about it, because he doesn't think he can come up with anything convincing as an excuse in his current situation.
"Okay, so I just gotta click the little printer picture at the top and it'll print?"
"Yes, Pa," Clark says in an almost suspiciously breathy way. "You'll p-probably have to select the--"
"Wait, now...which printer is it? Why are there so many to choose from? Do I gotta plug it in or somethin'?"
"No, no, it's wireless."
You chuckle softly as Clark holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, letting out a sigh, looking up at you as if to say save me before talking again.
"It s-should be an Inkjet printer, Pa. Should b-be the only one."
Your walls clench around him and your hand goes to wrap around his free wrist, guide his fingers to your clit, silently pleading for him to touch you. You're so close, rhythm beginning to get choppy and rushed.
His fingers begin to rub quick, firm circles, watching intently as you hold back sounds. He grunts softly when you tighten around him again, hips bucking up to meet yours.
"Fuck," you gasp as quietly as you can, eyebrows knitting in pleasure. "Oh, Clark..."
Clark holds his breath, watching intently as you fall apart on top of him. You feel so good, so hot and tight around him, and he knows he won't be able hold off.
"Pa, I need a sec, I'll be right--"
He clicks the mute button before even finishing his sentence, quickly tossing the phone aside and grabbing your hips, bouncing you on top of him with a deep moan. You gasp loudly, back arching as he moves you up and down quickly.
"Y-You're the worst," he breathes, leaning down to tuck his face against your breasts. "Oh gosh, I'm gonna come..."
You nod, fingers tangling in his hair. It only takes a few more seconds before he's tumbling over the edge, filling you up with a groan while his hips buck up erratically.
Once he lets go of your hips, the two of you simply stay still for a moment, just briefly basking in the afterglow of orgasm. He hums, pressing a few kisses to your nipples and breasts before leaning back with a soft sigh.
His lips tug up into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded as he looks at you, taking in how you look on top of him. It's a view he'll never get tired of.
"Clark? Are you there? Did something happen?"
The soft sound of Pa's confused and concerned voice coming from his phone snap him out of it, and he quickly reaches over to unmute.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," he says, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry, I...h-had to help in the kitchen real quick. Did you find the printer?"
You smile, wrapping your arms around him and leaning forward, tucking your face against the side of his neck as he finishes up on the phone with Pa.
What an amazing man, you think to yourself.
And he's all yours.
(daily planet divider by saradika-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> clark kent masterlist for all of your clark kent needs! <<
your roommate will not let you fool yourself into believing no one wants you, even if it means eviction.
Based on sexy to someone by clairo. sexy to somebody it would help me out! oh i need a reason to get out of the house.
Clark Kent x Female Reader
word count: 5.4k
content: MDNI (18+), unprotected piv (mirror sex), oral (fem recieving), reader is touch starved and so is Clark a little. I insinuate Lois might be a lesbian (we can all dream) sorry if that makes people uncomfy. Reader manages an ice cream parlour (v briefly mentioned). had a plus size reader in mind but no specific body descriptions.
a/n: isn't carving insane but specially in marble. like you mean to tell me you made clothes wrinkle on marble? insane. not the point. having an okay week, sleepy and forced body positivity. Don't have much to say rn. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, i appreciate it so much. love always, mani.
divider creds
“When you’re lifting up a car off like an elderly man, do you ever think ‘God, I hope my ass looks good in front of this tv crew?’” Clark closed his book, looking up at you as you sat up next to him in the park. The sun was just right today and you both decided to enjoy the day out. You’d gone out for lunch and took the dog to the park afterwards, sitting on a small hill and Clark took the opportunity to read a little while your dog laid beside you soaking up the sun. You were listening to music as you laid with your sun glasses, old ray-bans in pilot frames in that you’d inherited from your grandfather and made absolutely no sense on a girl in her twenties.
“What?”
“Just, you know, you’ve got your suit and cameras on you all the time. Do you ever worry about looking hot meanwhile?” You asked, turning to him as brought your feet closer to you, bending your knees and laying your head on the top of them. A loose strand of hair flew free from your hair claw, Clark reaching over to tuck in behind your ear.
“I guess not.” He responded, you huffed with a smile. You looked back into the park, people watching again.
“Are you ever worried that no one wants to fuck you? I’m being ridiculous, most women in Metropolis want to bang you.” You answered your own questions, remembering the nights you’d sat in Clark’s bed and read horrible, inappropriate comments online of how much people liked, really liked, how Superman looked. He’d turn red and get fidgety after a while and you’d laugh and go to your own room.
When a friend of friend was looking for an apartment and your best friend had just cleared her room and moved in with her boyfriend, you accepted to meet the man because he had rave reviews. A cup of coffee was enough to know he didn’t have a mean bone in his body and Clark Kent moved into your apartment the following week. That had been over a year ago and you’d learned that god had created that man to be your person. Clark wasn’t only the perfect tenant, clean, tidy and could cook, but he was a great friend. A confidant. A man who would go with you to the movies to see a foreign film or a man who would play Monopoly with your niece when she came over.
You were suspicious of Clark hiding something a month in, coming home really late at night without you hearing the door open, disappearing and returning with cuts on his face, weirdly strong and fit when you didn’t see him eat a vegetable or talk about ‘gains’. He broke two months in and spat out his secret.
“Well, maybe they want Superman. Not Clark.”
“Oh, c’mon. You get hearts drawn on your coffee cups, girls stare at you everywhere. Even the neighbor comes by to drop ‘extra cookies’ coincidentally only when you’re home.” You cornered him in his well worn humility and lack of ego. Clark thought everyone was just as nice as he was just because.
“Mrs Jackson is just nice.”
“Sure, okay.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and looking away from him.
“Why are you asking, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I just think I care a lot, even though it probably doesn’t look like it. I just want people to think I’m- y’know.” You started chewing on the sides of your nails, peeling off every loose piece of skin you could as if you were nervous.
“You don’t think people do?”
“I mean, I haven’t been asked out in forever. I may be a born again virgin.” You joked, Clark laughing. Beetle stood up from his sun soaking and moved behind you two under the shadow. He’d be back under the sun in five minutes. Clark now thought back and supposed you’d actually never been out like that since he’d known you. You’d barely even mentioned a man, once a high school boyfriend and maybe twice someone you called ‘the imbecile’. He never really noticed, mostly glad he didn’t even worry about some asshole treating you wrong or you going to see some dodgy dude that may murder you.
“That doesn’t mean that no one finds you attractive.”
“Well, at least not enough. I don’t know why I care, honestly. Whatever. I just think it would help me out, I’d feel a little more… human. Maybe get a reason to leave the house. Okay, home? The dog’s gonna get too hot. Aren’t you, my baby, my love? Come here, snuggles.” You mumbled as dog walked towards you with his tail wagging uncontrollably. You kissed his furry head a couple of times before leashing him back up. Clark nodded, shoving his book back into your tote you’d do so graciously offered to bring.
The walk through the park was quiet between you two but you stared at the people who walked past you and you found something attractive in most. You could see the redeeming qualities in most people. You and Clark found a middle ground between each other like that. He found everyone beautiful and with the power to do good if they tried. He believed in everyone, loved everything. You weren’t so sure about that, but you also tried to find the silver lining and the humanity that gave your patience. In your job, an ice cream parlour you managed with your aunt, people sucked. They were mean, intense, loud and entitled. But you also found the patience and empathy to keep being kind, discount the fallen scoop, add the extra cherry. You hoped people felt the same way about you.
“You got any plans later, supes?” You asked as you walked into the house, loosening the dogs collar to let him roam freely and pulling out your phone.
“Uh, I was gonna work a little bit.
“Oh, will Lois be here then?” You asked and Clark cringed. That very obvious courting that he had tried the past few months had come to an abrupt stop when Jimmy pointed out that Lois wasn’t only not interested in him, she wasn’t interested in men at all.
“No. She gets distracted with Beetle and just pets him the whole time.” He said, which was partly true. Lois did find herself working on the floor next to couch while she caressed the dog's belly. You smiled and nodded, moving to take off your sweater.
“Alright. Then do you mind keeping an eye on puppy?”
“Sure. You going out?” He asked, trying not to pry or bring to your attention the dog was 8 and hardly a puppy.
“Yeah, Kate from my yoga class invited me out and I think I should go.”
“Should?”
“I mean, yeah. See if I can get that attention I’ve been craving. If it’s not too much to ask. Reckon you’re probably sick of me, right?” You joked, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and inadvertently pushing your chest out, making Clark’s mouth go dry. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms out in front of him.
“I’m not. I love hanging out with you.” You smiled and nodded, going into your room with your dog following behind and leaving him alone in the living room. Clark’s mind had been a little foggy the last month. At the same time the realization of Lois’ lack of interest reared its head on Clark’s brain, he noticed he suddenly found you more interesting. He’d always been drawn. Liked the way you looked, smiled, smelled, cooked him the best chicken noodle soup he’d ever has (‘don’t tell my Ma I said that’ he said, as if you had her on speed dial) and helped him clean a wound even though he assured you he didn’t need it. He liked when you wore the red top and he liked when you wore skirts.
But of course, like a moron, he’d convinced himself it was normal appreciation for the female gender. He had always liked girls, really liked them. But after you showed him pictures of your weekend in California where you looked all warm and with much less layers than usual, something shifted. He just noticed you much more. How your chest looked under your pyjamas, how your soft hands around his jaw felt when you cleaned him, how when you laughed, he could almost imagine how you’d sound moaning. Clark mostly tried to push it away; you were sort of his landlord for god’s sake. But he just wondered what it’d be like. To have you withering with pleasure under his mouth, how warm you’d be around his fingers, how wet could you get for his cock. He just lets himself want you, want you bad, and wonder.
He was just a good friend. He worries. That’s what he said to himself as he walked down the street, dog shaking his tail as he thought he was just getting treated with one extra walk today, and he followed the image of you as he walked closer to the bar you were in. Clark had tried to listen to you, unconsciously of course, 15 minutes ago but heard nothing ever since. Not a peep from you. So he worried. Of course he did. Why would you be quiet when you’d gone to meet people? Where was your friend? Had no one impressed you? Or were you silenced? Okay, the last one was less than likely. But still, he just wanted to check you were fine.
He would go, look into the bar and check on you and go back home. That’d be it. So when he walked up to the bar he could hear you closer to, he pressed his head to the glass softly to look in. His eyes narrowed, under the white lights there was little less visibility. He passed the people, groups, couples dancing and grinding, a bachelorette party and in a table on the corner there you were. As he had guessed, you were quiet. Your finger was running around the rim of the glass, picking up the sugar on it and then licking the tip. You then took a sip and licked the glass again, pink tongue on full display making him wonder how it would contrast against his co- okay, he needed a cold shower.
You were alone, hair you had done for half an hour now a little frizzy and lipgloss faded against your drink. He could see you were upset, it showed on your chubbed up cheeks and small pout. He scanned the room again and noticed a man who was sitting on a stool was looking at you. Clark focused harder, he heard his heart beating fast. As if he was planning something. Clark’s eyes drifted back to you, and you had stood up, fixing your blouse before turning around and locking eyes with him. You squinted and frowned, Clark’s breath catching in his throat and he turned around as if he could pretend he wasn’t there.
“Clark? Beetle! Hi, baby.” You baby talked your dog as he jumped and placed his two front legs on your thighs.
“Hey. What are you two doing here?” You looked back up at Clark whose lips were pressed together. He pretended to think for a second, watching your grin grow by the second.
“Y’know, just a little walk.”
“At 11 pm? You never take him out.”
“I do! He just looks at me like I’m going to give him away all the time, so I feel bad and we end up at Pet-smart buying him a bone.” You laughed, kneeling to wrap your arms around your dog.
“Were you spying on me, Clark?” He laughed and rolled his eyes as if he found your accusation hilarious, but he looked down at you and saw you were nothing but amused.
“I-I was just checking in on you, and you were quiet, so I got worried and wanted to make sure you were fine. Don't evict me. Why were you alone? Where’s your friend?” He finally asked, looking back into the bar and the half-drunk glass you’d left behind.
“Didn’t really work out like I wanted it to. She’s making out with some girl in the back.” You said, shrugging and motioning to the room and Clark sighed.
“I’m sorry, darling. Anyone who doesn’t see how great you are, how beautiful you are is doomed beyond repair. Really, human scum. I wouldn’t save them from a falling bridge.” You laughed slightly and stood, swallowing up a tear that was threatening to fall minutes before from your sorrow-filled eyes. Clark Kent, Mr. Everyone is good and kind, thought that people who didn’t like you were scum. That was the best result you could get out of this failed night.
“Thank you.” You mumbled before pulling you into his arms comfortably, he hugged you tightly and sweet, kissing the top of your head. You sniffled for a while against his chest, not really crying but just drowned in an absolute pity party. You hadn’t even particularly tried to engage or seem approachable. You hid behind your friend and then sat on the corner without making eye contact. It was mostly your fault. But it was hard, being approachable was a requisite for, y’know, being approached.
“Wanna go ho-“
“Hey! I noticed you left this in there.” The guy who Clark noticed had been eyeing you up came out running from the bar, holding in his hand a gold tube. Your lipgloss.
“Oh! Thank you so much. You’re very detail oriented.” You said, taking it into your hand and giving him a thankful smile. You put it on as a reflex, squeezing the sticky liquid out of the tube and immediately making your lips brownish and glossy.
“Yeah, I was hoping you hadn’t left.” He said, putting his hands on his hips. You nodded, putting the tube in your purse.
“I don’t think this color is good with my complexion so it would have been wasted.” He joked, and you did laugh. He smiled bigger when he saw you laugh.
“Well, thanks either way. You’re very kind.”
“Sure, yeah. Are you leaving?” He asked, licking his lips as he watched you and your eyes opened, looking down at the dog rubbing against your leg. You were clueless, Clark thought. That man was giving more signs than a green light and you thought he was just being friendly.
“Yeah, can’t stay with this dude in there.” The man glanced down and smiled, nodding and waving before moving away to the door, one last look to you before leaving behind the entryway. You smacked your lips and sighed, motioning for the leash of the dog.
“Home, then?”
“Are you good?” Clark asked, sitting at the edge of your bed as you removed your jewelry.
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I just… wish I was sexy. To someone at least. Kind of think about it a lot. But yeah.” You shrugged, stepping into your bathroom and starting to let your hair loose. Clark nodded, bitting his lips between his teeth as he looked at you. God, how could you not have a million suitors at all times? You were the best thing he’d seen in a while, being around you felt like what he would imagine was being inside an apple pie. Not only because you were warm and smelled like apples and cinnamon, but because it was comforting and oddly relaxing, swooshing around sweetness and a hit of tart from the granny smith, covered by a wall of perfectly worked dough.
Clark stood up and debated saying anything. He didn’t want to ruin everything, make the situation awkward between you two. But he would die if he didn’t let you know he wanted you. How could you move around not convinced of how priceless you are?
“Uh, look. I don’t wanna make anything uncomfortable so tell me if I’m overstepping but, Jesus. I can’t believe you have a mirror and can see yourself and still don’t know how attractive you are.” You looked up and peered at him through the mirror, squinting at Clark as if trying to decipher the purpose of his words.
“Well, that doesn’t mean I’m sexy to people.” You still responded and Clark was careful of not letting out the exasperated whine that was tickling his tongue.
“Okay, but you are. I swear. You just don’t notice.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do! That guy was hitting on you.” You frowned.
“He was giving me my lipgloss, not a bouquet.”
“It was the vibe. He was giving an interested vibe.”
“That’s not a thing, Clark.” You laughed at him slightly, turning around to face him. Clark laughed too, putting down the hands he’d been using to punctuate his words and caging you between them, leaning on the counter beside your hips.
“Honey, I swear. I’m a guy, I know what it looks like. You’ve got to believe you are wanted and hot and all those things you think you’re not.”
“I just don’t feel it.” You defended, staring into his eyes and not backing down from the argument. Clark sighed, chest contracting to take a deep breath and get ready for what was about to slip out of his mouth.
“I find you very, very attractive. You’re hot. Sexy. Beautiful. I mean, look at yourself. C’mon.” Your cheeks were so hot now you could probably bake a cookie on top of them. Clark turned you around by the shoulders, making you stare at yourself and him.
“Look at your face, your lips, your eyes. Your hips, thighs, all your torso. You’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. So desirable. Trust me, you’re hard to resist.” You had a bit of a smirk, because even if you didn’t see what he was seeing, it still moved your ground to think Clark could see those things in you. He was the most impressive man you’ve met and he was honest, he wouldn’t bullshit you.
“You’re not just saying it to make me feel better?” You whispered with a small smile, trying to make it sound light and not like a question full of fear.
“Darling, I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re all that and more. I was almost glad you didn’t see that guy flirting because I don’t want you to be with anyone.”
“Anyone?”
“Other than me.” He responded firm and sure, you swore he could hear the way your heart had caught a strange, fast rhythm. You continued looking up, seeing Clark lean down to place his head on top of your shoulder.
“Can I show you how much I want you?” He asked, one leaving the counter to press against your hip. You jumped at the contact, merely nodding when Clark smiled and started by bringing his mouth to your neck, making you jump once again. You were honestly so touch starved, even just his breath did something. You were also shameless. This beautiful man wanted to do something with you? Hell yeah. So you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Clark smiled like he was proud, like he wanted you to react.
“That’s my girl. Don’t be shy, not with me. Gonna let me kiss you? Make you feel good?” You smiled and motioned him closer, he twisted his head slightly to get the easiest access to you, placing two fingers underneath your chin and motioning it upwards. He smiled once more at you, pupils blown and practically panting for a taste of you. You’d let him have it.
Clark’s mouth felt different than you thought it would. Sure, he was big and strong but he was also awkward and almost too sweet to function, so this confidence, sure stride of his lips and tongue hard begging for entrance was surely a surprise. His hand moved down to your waist, squeezing at the fat before pressing his hips to yours, guiding your body closer to him. You followed his lead, feeling the press of his growing boner against your mount. It made you giddy.
“Jeez, can’t believe I haven’t done this yet. You taste like freaking honey.” Clark mumbled when you finally left his mouth to take a breather, mouth wide open to continue breathing him in. You smirked, licking your lips and yes, there was still a taste of honey from the rim of sugar of your Paloma.
“My drink had a honey sugar rim.” Oh, he noticed.
“Nah, I think that’s just you.” You giggled as he tried to press his lips back on yours but settled on the surrounding of your lips, corners and chin. His hands moved down to the space between the small of your back and your ass cheeks.
“Can I go lower?”
“Anything you want.” You responded like a reflex, hungry for his affection. He immediately started kneeding the fat on your buttocks with firm but gentle hands. You moaned into his mouth, not because the movement felt good but because his hands on you were making you feral. After a minute his mouth left yours, kissing desperately your neck and exposed skin of your collarbones. His finger started pulling the fabric of your skirt, bunching it up around your hips. Once he secured it up, he used his knee to spread your legs apart. He pushed it against your clothed slit, pulling a gasp from your mouth. Thank god you had the decency to wear reasonable underwear just in case you managed to gather some attention at the bar. You almost wore granny panties.
“Can I take it off?”
“What?”
“Everything. Starting to with your skirt and underwear, though.” You couldn’t possible blush harder. You bit your lip and nodded, watching Clark pull the zipper and let the material fall down, teasingly sneaking his hand under the crotch of your underwear, touching up the wet skin there before pulling down that fabric too, leaving your lower half bare to him. He pushed the clothes further away, dropping to his knees in front of her.
“Gosh, you smell so good, let me just… yeah, like that.” Clark said as he lifted your knee over his shoulder, getting more access from the weird position you guys had resumed to in the bathroom. He could take you to your bed, sure, but this was spur of the moment and hot and he had plans for you right now. He gave you one last look, making sure you were still in this but by the way your pussy was glistening with humidity, and your pulsating heart could be felt from here, you were in it. He first used his thumb and index finger to push your lips apart, exposing the lonely, beautiful skin of your vulva to him. Clark let out a shaky sigh, because darn it, he also was touch starved. Between moving in and Superman and thinking about Lois he hadn’t particularly gotten any in a long time. What if he’d forgotten how to do it? How to touch a woman?
“Clark, are you just gonna stare?” You teased softly, a tiny giggle leaving your mouth and bringing him back to earth.
“Sorry, just… enchanted.”
“Shut up.” You laughed and he did shut up, pressing one single kiss to your pubic bone, on top of the hair there, before licking up a stripe from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp.
“Yeah, you taste like honey.” Clark said before properly diving in, one hand moving to your ass to pull you closer as your hands looked for balance on the counter. His mouth enveloped your skin, sucking up like it was some sort of soft serve ice cream that was melting and he needed to get every drop of the sweetness into his senses. He then started to kitten lick at your clit, tongue swirling over the hardened bud because he needed to build you up, you deserved it. You deserved everything.
“Oh, fuck.” You whined as his tongue proded into your entrance, pressing the muscle against your skin and just keeping it there, letting you feel the texture and the pulsating of his heart that was present now on his focusing tongue. He moved again, lapping at the precious sap that flooded your pussy as soon as he moved. You didn’t taste like pure honey, no, it’s physically impossible. But there was something sweet, addictive, so human and feminine that tingled his senses.
He went back to your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking it, a shocked moan leaving your mouth at the sensation. It had been too fucking long.
“Want you to cum for me,” Clark said between tonguing your swollen nerves, “You’re too hot to not be treated well, I can do it. I’ll treat you right. I'll give you everything.” With no space for a response, he went back to doing what he knew would push you off the edge with the suction he was providing. You pressed against the counter, your heel pressing to his back deliciously while he thought that if he just maybe pressed his dick against your leg, he’d cum easily. That’s how excited and hot for you he was.
“God, Clark, just like that. You’re so good at that- oh.” You whined, as he prodded one finger into your entrance and tickled at that one spongy spot inside you he would try to look at of his eyes weren’t closed in bliss and focus. You wouldn’t be long, you knew that when your hips started to involuntarily grind against his face. He looked up at you and your head was thrown back, and he wanted to see you. He slapped your thigh with his free hand, calling for your attention and you looked down, watching him suckle onto your clit with unmovable desire. His blue eyes almost darkened by the size of his pupils did it, you stuttered out a moan as he continued sucking you and pressing inside you when you came. He slowed down, knowing not to press too much, but continued licking you until you reached and separated his head from you.
“Jesus, Clark.” You laughed, he smiled and pressed one last kiss to your pussy, a promise to see her as soon as he could, and stood up. You searched for his mouth fast, hands moving down to try and touch him through his pants.
“You-you don’t have to. This is about you.” He promised and you rolled your eyes, finally coping a feel of what you had disrespectfully stared at many times before. You’d never said anything, much less acted on it, but you would sometimes drool when he came into your room early in the morning to show you some stupid video and had his morning wood visible through his plaid pyjama pants. Clark was beautiful and sweet, of course you had a small crush on him. It didn’t help that he looked like a Superhero. Even before you knew he was one, you were sure he was straight out of a comic book some nerd would have unopened on a shrine in his bedroom.
“You wanna give me everything but you won’t get inside me? Awful rude.” You baited him, making him bite his lip and roll his eyes, grinding down onto your hand as you moved to pull his shirt off. He was even better up close. You ran your hands down his chest and rested at the hem of his pants, kissing down his neck.
“Please, wanna take care of you. Let me out.” Clark’s words were orders, you pushed his pants and underwear down, his cock jumping free and making you gasp. You should’ve known his size would be proportional, but it was still a punch to the gut to see that perfect dick had been in your house for a year and you had no idea.
“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. Turn around for me, baby.” You turned around and presented yourself to him, ass slightly pushed out for his access. He smiled big and smug, taking his cock into his hand and pumping it a couple of times.
“Want me, sweetheart?”
“More than anything. Fuck me.” Clark hissed when you responded as he coated his tip in your fresh slick, positioned on your hole before pushing in. One slow but complete thrust had him inside you fully, touching your cervix as you got used to the size and closed your eyes, he soothed your hips and held them tight.
“Move.” He really didn’t need to be told twice, moving forward and back, fucking you at a delicious, perfect pace. Every time he crawled back in, he touched every centimetre of your walls, with the final push making you whine every single thrust.
“Open your eyes, angel. Watch yourself.” You did, but honestly, you saw him. His mouth was open and red; the silver chain he wore was pendulous with his hips attacking you. You could really get used to it. The mirror was starting fog up slightly from the warmth and sweat of your bodies, but you could still see the obscene scene that was unfolding. Your own private show, of your beautiful roommate who has crossed into a very complicated area to console you. God, you really hoped it wasn’t consolation. But by the way Clark looked absolutely lost, whipped and entranced, you really doubted it.
“You’re so pretty, so sexy. Look at how good you’re taking it. You’re a dream. Never doubt that.” Clark praised, switching between looking at your face through the mirror and the meeting of your bodies, his cock disappearing between your cheeks with every thrust. You said nothing, just kept looking as he brought one hand up to rub your clit, middle finger playing rough and unfair with you as the stimulation became so much for the second time. Clark was about to cum; he needed the sweet release of your pussy tightening around him before letting himself go. He wanted you to finish first. You squeezed, swallowing him in because you wanted to keep him inside. He’d comply.
“I’m- I’m gonna cum. You want me to pull out?” He warned, you shook your head as if he was suggesting something preposterous.
“No, stay inside, Clark. In me, please.” It was like a command, he immediately started to spill that hot, abundant cum onto your walls, filling you to the brim with him and only him. Just like he wanted. He brought one hand over your stomach, the fat there and kept going until he pressed it to the valley of your breasts to feel your heart beating fast. It came from the sex, sure, but it was also the absolute thrill of having this man show you love, tenderness, desperation and disrespecting you a tiny bit to have you just how he wanted. He kissed your temple, looking at your relaxed face in the mirror. Two intense orgasms will do that to you.
"Bed?" He asked and you smiled, nodding as he slowly pulled out from inside you and kissed your back, the freckle on your shoulder he was delighted to see up close and not from the times your shirts slipped from their place. He helped you get a tissue to wipe away the cum spilling out of your pussy, a sinful, beautiful river of translucent white running down onto your thighs. He stepped away and picked up his clothes, pulling on his underwear and walking to his room, throwing the other clothes on the bed to go back to yours quickly. He didn't want to risk you changing your mind (idiot, why would you ever?). When he came back, you had already pulled the sheets to get beneath them. You motioned for him to get in the other side, and he happily obliged.
"You're gonna let me take you out on a date tomorrow, beautiful?" He asked, settling and pulling you against his chest.
"Sure."
"And make you cum on my cock in the morning."
"Sure." He smiled, kissing your forehead as he felt Beetle coming up into the bed to cuddle besides you, effectively pushing you closer to Clark. Thank goodness for your clingy pet. He sighed in absolute comfort and bliss, feeling you press a couple kisses to his bare chest and squeeze on leg between his. He could absolutely get used to this.
"This definitely lowers my rent, right?"
ฅ≽^•⩊•^≼ฅ @beingdeadseemsmerry - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
