content: smuttt, established marriage, petnames, p in v, public seggs, fitting room seggs, oral (m!receiving), male whimpering, mommy kink, praise kink, sub!clarkkk, uncircumcised!clark bc yes, hyperspermia!!
⊹★a/n: been struggling w/writer’s block oops!
wc: 2k
꒰๑꒱──────────────★ ˚ ̟ ⊹ ♡
You have money. Tons of money. Like a load of money. So much money, the piles of cash would seem infinite. Naturally, it must be spent. And you have a cutie pie for a husband who you absolutely love to spoil. Especially during your monthly trips to the mall when you have the time.
Today is no different. The Metropolis Mall and its hundreds of stores, especially the luxury ones, were all yours to conquer. You enter the land of endless possibilities with Clark, arm in arm.
Clark is a very humble farm boy at heart who constantly assures you he doesn’t need all your precious gifts, though they are much appreciated. Like that one time you gifted him his first shiny, silver Rolex. He almost fell over when you revealed the hefty price.
“Oh, honey, I can’t accept this! I love it, but that’s so many zeros! How will I pay you back?” He looked up at you with those sweet eyes.
You rolled your eyes and gave him a soft peck. “Ugh, you’re adorable. You don’t repay me, sweetie, you just take whatever I buy you because you deserve it, okay? Let me take care of you.” You cupped his cheek, then slid a hand up to his curls.
Clark melted in your touch. “But I don’t think I could get you anything better than this…” he pouted as he held the box.
“Shh, all I need is this wonderful man in front of me to make me happy. You’re the best gift, Clark. You’re enough for me.”
His heart thumped at that, and he pulled you in for a deep kiss.
Now you don a black halter dress that displays some enticing cleavage, with a lush, white fur shawl over your arms. Topped off with a pair of black shades, of course. Pearl necklace glimmering under the candescent ceiling lights.
Every now and then, you enjoy looking like your net worth during your shopping sprees, even if it’s unnecessary. The countless bags your guards carry behind you each time as you two walk through the place speak for themselves.
Clark is wearing his usual getup: a white button-up paired with black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up, and his beefy biceps are on display for you.
“Let’s get you another watch!” Clark just lets himself be pulled towards the luxury jeweler. Smiling at your enthusiasm.
The jeweler happily welcomes you two in and beckons you over with a “come, come, come!” to the glass counter. He pulls out a tray of the finest watches at hand, and you watch Clark’s eyes grow wide. ‘Ugh, so cute,’ you thought.
You inch closer to the tray and eye the display before turning to Clark. “Which one do you like more, baby?”
“Um…um,” he mumbles in deep thought. Clark honestly thinks they all look divine. Although the brown leather one does grab his attention a bit more than the others. Oh, and so does the navy blue. And the black leather one paired with its intricate clock design. Goodness, it’s probably an unjustifiable price, even for a designer brand like this one.
You can see the cogs turning in his head, and let another moment pass before going for a simple solution, well, your idea of a simple solution.
You lean onto the counter and pull your shades down to look the jeweler in the eye, “you know what? I’ll take them all.” Clark’s brows furrow as he panics.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” The jeweler gives you a warm smile.
“Honey, those are a lot of watches!”
“And my baby deserves each and every one!” You cup his face and cover his face in kisses. Clark wraps his arms around you in defeat, taking in your rich affection.
From there, you hit up all kinds of stores, including the comic book store, so Clark could nerd out all he wants.
Last stop is the tuxedo boutique. You love, love, love getting Clark fitted for suits. A man can never have too many suits.
You walk in, and a trusted worker is already at your beck and call.
“Bring this year’s collection, for my husband, stat. We’ll be by the fitting rooms.” The employee curtly nods before speeding off.
Clark swallows at your stern tone and the power you command without saying much. He finds it to be the hottest thing about you, honestly. Gosh, and the way you always proudly claim him, referring to him as your “husband”. It makes him feel so giddy inside.
Clark watches you, admiring how ravishing you look in that dress. His eyes fall to your peaking breasts, wanting nothing more than to stuff his face in them while you tell him how good he is.
He slightly shakes his head, as if shaking the indecent thought away. He can’t get hard right now; he’s in public, all kinds of eyes on him.
“Come on,” you grab his hand and pull him towards the back. Oh, this was a constant thing in your marriage. You're pulling him everywhere, and he's happily obliging. His favorite navigation system. His lovely wife as his guide.
You take your usual seat on the comforting ottoman and watch as Clark tries on every suit. Making you laugh as he awkwardly models for you, as always. He just can’t take himself too seriously.
“Mhm, I like this color. That navy blue looks good on you, sweetie. Give me a spin.” You lean back on your arms and take in the view.
Clark’s cheeks turn rosy pink, but he does slow 360 for you nonetheless. “Thank you, honey.” He looks down sheepishly as the worker takes his measurements.
“That’s my handsome husband,” you say as you stand up to get a closer look at the fabric.
He really doesn’t want you coming any closer. He already has to keep his composure in front of this lady, and you look the way you do today. So good, so breathtakingly good. And you’ve been complimenting and spoiling him all evening, my gosh.
Clark gets another whiff of your perfume, Coco Chanel No. 5 to be exact, and it almost sends him off the edge. Your fingers brush against his chest and stomach, maybe on purpose, before you reach for the material.
You tug on the suit jacket a bit and share your thoughts with the worker, Angela, as he tries his hardest to act unfazed by your touch. Clark was never good at acting.
“Sorry, Angela, dear, could you please give us a minute?” She nods and quickly leaves.
Once again, it was only you and Clark, who looked as sexy as ever in his new suit. You’re both quiet. He’s nervous and curious as to why you sent her away. You watch his worried expression in amusement.
“This needy, hmm? You can’t even wait until we’re in the car.”
He swallows hard as your soft, velvety cadence sends shivers down his spine. He doesn’t respond, too ashamed of his growing bulge.
You cup his erection, and he jerks a little, “answer me, Clark. Are you so impatient that you don’t even have the decency to wait until we leave this place?”
He rapidly shakes his head before you hook a finger underneath his chin.
“Use your words, love.”
“I-I’m having trouble controlling myself.” He explains, all flustered.
“Well, I can see that.” You smirk and feel him up even more. A small whimper escapes from his lips, spurring you further on. “Poor Angela is just trying to fit you for a suit, and instead of standing here like a good boy, all you can do is think with your dick?” You purr.
“Please, honey, all I can think about is you,” he whines as you grip him tighter.
“Fitting room now.” One command and like an obedient dog, he follows without hesitation.
When you push past the curtains, Clark is already on his knees. Ready to beg for your forgiveness, the best way he knows how.
You look down at him and scoff as you poke his knee with your heel. “Get up, nobody told you to get on your knees like that.”
And he’s up again, but unsure of what to do.
You shrug your shawl off before lightly pushing him against the wall, with your hand on his chest. Without ever breaking eye contact, you slide your hand down as you lower yourself before him, before his fat bulge.
“Now, you’re gonna stand here while I suck your pretty little cock without making a sound, or else you’ll embarrass both of us, especially yourself. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.” He manages to say when you unbuckle his new Louis V belt, and pull off his pants and tightie whities down in one go, freeing his aching cock from its previous confines.
It’s so big, heavy, and uncut in your grip. Clark inhales when you rub his shaft while looking up at him with those dark eyes. You push the foreskin back, the sudden motion revealing the head of his cock already leaking with pre-cum.
“Oh, gosh…” he moans as you teasingly lick and kiss his wet slit. “My goodness…” You lick a dangerously slow stripe up his length, and he faintly whimpers again. Music to your ears.
“Not so loud, baby,” smooch, “the customers can,” smooch, “hear you,” another smooch on his serious girth.
“R-right, I’m sorry, mommy, I’ll be qui—oh, my gosh!” He shudders as you wrap your plush lips around him. You take him further into your warm mouth and suck him with every intention of making him break. It was fun to watch him trying his hardest to contain himself. Him biting his lips to suppress his moans, his furrowed brows, and red face in utter ecstasy as you suck him dry.
Clark’s shaking hand hovers over your head, hesitant. He gently places his hand on your hair for stability, and it moves as you bob your head even more, swirling your tongue over his girth.
"Mommy, I-I don't think I'm gonna last..." He pants. You ignore him and go down further, fully deep throating his fat cock. With your free hand, you fondle his balls, and Clark can't help but let out a loud, pitchy moan.
He cups his mouth instantly, scared that he might have alerted someone. The sensations are too much for him. Heck, even the sinful, wet sounds of you slobbing on his dick are driving him mad. He's overwhelmed, and his whimpers keep getting louder. Clark prays for your sake, and his, that nobody has noticed anything yet.
But when you squeeze his balls tighter and hollow your cheeks, it's the last straw. Clark tenses as he spills his hot, white, creamy load into your mouth. And it's heavy, almost non-stop. He's embarrassed and mumbles all kinds of nonsense about how much he loves you and how sorry he is. He has no idea why he produces so much of it; maybe it's a Kryptonian thing.
You don't mind, though, and try to swallow as much as you can before it inevitably flows out of your mouth.
You slowly slide your head back as he catches his breath. There are drips of cum on the corners of your lips, and you chuckle when you feel them. There's some of your dress too. Oh well, you can take it to the cleaners. You lick your lips, and Clark has to avert his eyes, or else he'll be hard in no time. The power you have over him is ridiculous.
"Haven't even bought the suit and I already have to get it dry-cleaned." You joke as you shake your head, nodding at the cum stain on his pants.
"I'm sorry, hon', y'know I can't control it." He gives you that pathetic, sorry look as he helps you up.
You wave him off, "sweetheart, you could cover me in all your cum, and I wouldn't mind."
"Oh, gosh, please don't say things like that!" he whines. You just giggle and help him with his pants.
Out of nowhere, you hear fast heel-clacking near the fitting rooms.
strapping clark naked to a chair, tying his arms around his back. putting up a ruler against his hard cock while he pleads with you to assure him he’s big enough so he could be inside you - lining his very tip up to the nine and a half inch mark and smiling telling him he’s just big enough before grinding your pussy up against his cock, making him close his eyes and drool, whispering for you to please hurry and put it in. that it hurts. that he won’t complain even if you go slow, or pump yourself on him real shallow, as long as he gets to be snug and warm inside your little pussy so he can finally find relief <3
pairing: clark kent x fem!older boss reader
tags: 18+ smut (porn w plot idk), sub clark and mean dom reader whatever you get it
wc: 3.4k
a/n: a long oneee thank u anon for this goated idea , kinda babygirl (2024) inspired but like reversed, not proof read whatever , please like and reblog !!! also trying third person idk how i feel
He just needed a job. Something to add to his resume. Something to make him seem like a contributing member of society.
He saw it in the paper: “INTERNS NEEDED AT THE DAILY PLANET: College Graduates; BA or BS in Journalism/Related Fields Required; Paid Hourly.” Perfect.
He eagerly called the number attached to the ad, and a few rounds of interviews later, he got the job. Clark had dreams. He wanted to be somebody, have his work put out there, and he needed to start somewhere, so why not start at the biggest publication in the country? His first day of work, he got up bright and early to get ready, making sure every wrinkle was out of his suit and his hair was done perfectly.
Once he arrived, it was easy for him to adjust to the fast-paced environment of the workplace. Upon arrival, every intern was signed in and given their assignments for their time there, and Clark got the one nobody wanted: the boss’ personal assistant. On paper, the job seemed easy enough—get her lunches and coffees, run her errands, answer her calls, but her reputation preceded her. Bitch, cunt, piece of work—all names that were used more commonly than her first name. She was abrasive, dismissive, just a total bitch that ran a tight ship, and he heard all of that just in the five minutes it took for him to find her office.
He sucked in a shaky inhale, smoothing out his clothes with sweaty palms before knocking. She couldn’t be that bad, right? Clark thought to himself. The publication is amazing and the best of its kind. She must be doing something right.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“What the fuck—who is it?” she barked.
“C-Clark Kent, ma’am, your intern?”
“Intern? What fucking intern? Oh, right, that stupid fucking program—come in!”
He opened the door, his wide shoulders nearly touching the frames and taking up all the space around him as he took a step into the room. Promising. He was very promising. And she… she was beautiful. A dream. His dream. The thoughts already swimming through his head about his new boss would definitely not make his mother proud. He cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts away.
“Good morning, ma’am. I look forward to working as your assistant during my time here at the Daily Planet. I attended Metropolis University, graduated summa cum laude, where I pursued a Bachelor’s of Art degree with a major in Journalism and a minor in Communications—”
“Christ, I really couldn’t give less of a shit, this isnt a job interview, you clearly already have the fucking job. This isn’t some LinkedIn virgin convention. Can you order coffee?”
“W-wha... uhm, yes, ma’am.”
“Can you take calls?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know how to use a printer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you a bitch?”
“What?’ Clark sputtered, his eyes widening slightly.
“Are you a bitch? A coward? A pussy? Do you think you can handle working for me?”
“I, u-uhm... I really believe so, ma’am. Yes. Yes, I can handle working for you.”
She hummed in approval at his answer, cocking a brow at him as she looked up and down at him. Muscular, physically imposing guy. He’d be just fine.
“Good. You’ll be okay. If you’re looking for some journalistic experience or whatever bullshit they sold you in the ad, you’re not gonna find it here. You just need to be quick on your feet and do what I say when I say it. Is that clear? I don’t really have any specific rules for you except don’t be a bitch, got it? Say it.”
“i-I, uhm... I promise not to be a... bitch.”
“Amazing! Very well, I’m hungry and I hate every sandwich shop in a five mile radius so I need you to make an out of town run for me, ask the secretary for the order. Here, put it on the company card,” she hummed, holding out the card for him.
Scary, she definitely was. But he could handle her, for the most part. He was good at the mundane tasks he was asked to do. He always got her coffee order right, got her food just in time for it to still be hot but not soggy, and was amazing at deflecting the annoying callers she didn’t want to deal with. Was it the most… journalistically stimulating job? Not in the slightest. But he liked being around her, and she seemingly… actually liked him.
He’d wake up extra early every single day to get ready—look good, smell good, feel good—all so that she’d like him. She rarely ever noticed the effort, maybe giving him an occasional “looking good,” but it was enough to give him butterflies.
“She’s a total cunt. She hates everyone she hires. She chewed me out on my first day here just because she didn’t like the shade of green my socks were. I mean, who does that? Such a fucking bitch,” Clark’s fellow intern Jimmy complained as they stood alone in the breakroom together by the water cooler.
“I dunno, she’s not all bad. She’s pretty cool if you get to know her. She gave me this hundred dollar bonus last week just because she felt like it,” Clark shrugged.
“What!? Dude, she totally wants to fuck you. There’s no other plausible explanation for her being so nice to you when she’s such a fucking cunt to everyone else..”
“What!? No way, man. I’m just good at my job, I guess. Don’t talk about her like that, either, she’s still our boss whether you like her or not.”
Jimmy scoffed and rolled his eyes at that. “Whatever, dude. You definitely want to fuck her too, you only oversee her major bitch attitude because you think she’s hot. She called you a dumbass this morning because she didn’t like your breakfast sandwich order, or did you forget that, too?”
“S-she… she’s beautiful, yeah, but I wouldn’t think of her like that. That’s not appropriate, Jim. She’s just a woman with uhm… certain likes and dislikes, I guess. She knows what she likes, vocalizes it, and it’s clearly working if you look at the success of the company under her.” Clark was as red as a tomato now, and despite his words, his mind definitely agreed with Jimmy. He liked her. A lot. He thought about her a lot, too, especially at night.
Her words would run through his mind as he’d try to sleep. “Idiot. Pathetic. Dumbass. Stupid.” The first time she called him a derogatory name, he popped a boner that he was thankfully able to get rid of before she noticed—or at least, before he thought she’d notice. He didn’t know if it was the word itself or her that turned him on, but the combination was certainly lethal on his hormones.
He couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was her. The disappointed look she’d give his coworkers, the names she’d call people, her tone when she’d yell at someone. It got him hard in an instant. His eyes flickered down to his sheets, now tented thanks to his erection. He slowly reached down, tentatively rubbing himself over the fabric of his boxers. His eyes fluttered shut, imagining it was her hand and not his touching him. “Oh, gosh, please,” he whimpered into the empty room.
He squeezed himself in pulses, his lips parting as his breath quickened. He thought about what she’d say if she saw him like this. She’d probably call him a loser or a bitch, maybe even a pathetic loser and bitch. The idea alone made him moan. Just as he was about to fish his cock out to jerk off, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
INCOMING CALL FROM: THE BOSS
Clark immediately reached for his phone and answered it, putting her on speaker as he caught his breath. It was late, very late, and it was suspicious that she’d be calling him at this time, but he didn’t even care. “Hello? Ma’am? Is everything alright?”
“Oh, please, don’t sound so worried. Listen, I know I let you go early today but I need some help at the office. Everyone actually competent is gone and this paperwork isn’t gonna get itself done. I promise, I’ll pay extra.”
He shot out of bed at that, and arrived at the office in record time. His curls were messy and his shirt was wrinkled but he was there.
He soon sat in her office with her, helping her out with filing and whatever boring office work she asked him to. It was a comfortable silence, neither of them needing to speak, until she finally did.
“Clark, do you think I’m dumb?”
“W-what? No! No, of course not! Why would you say that? Have I done something to make you think that? Because if so, I’m truly so so sorry.”
“I know you jerk off to me, Clark.”
His heart dropped. Of course. He’d been reckless to jerk off all those times in the bathroom. He thought he’d been quiet, but clearly not.
“The vent in the men’s bathroom? It connects right to my office,” she said, pointing at the vent on the ceiling above them. “Fifteen times, I counted, you jerked off and mentioned my name at least once every time, and coincidentally, each time was right after you witnessed me yelling at someone. Correlation?”
“M-ma’am. I sincerely apologize. My behavior has been inappropriate and entirely unethical, and I’d understand if you want to fire me,” Clark stammered, his cheeks burned red, his hands sweating on his lap.
“Don’t be. That’s why I called you here tonight. I thought to myself, I have this pathetic being of a worker here, who’s clearly willing to bend to my every command given how infatuated he seemingly is with me, so he’d definitely be willing to come help me out with some paperwork I’m too lazy to do on my own. And clearly, I was right, given that you came in fifteen minutes despite living thirty minutes away. How’d you do that?” She inquired, cocking a brow at him and standing up, walking over to the other side of her desk where he sat.
He swallowed thickly, her scent invading his nostrils the closer she got. His hands instinctively went to his lap, covering the boner that had already grown. He really was pathetic.
His eyes were at level with her breasts, and before he could think twice, he used his x-ray vision to look through her top. He swallowed back a moan at the sight of her tits, his ears burning red as he forced himself to look away before he embarrassed himself even more than he already has.
“What’s that? You using your weird alien powers on me? Oh, right, I know about that, too. I have eyes everywhere, Kent. I saw that one time you ‘discreetly’ heated up your coffee with eye-lasers and not the microwave like a normal person. It took one google search for me to come to the Krypton conclusion. You’re not as sneaky as you may think, clearly,” she chuckled as she nudged his arm, making his hand fall away from his crotch.
Clark couldn’t even speak. He should be apologizing, begging for his job, maybe even trying to convince her that she didn’t see what she says she did, but he knew there was no use. She knew, and this was definitely happening.
“Well, would ya look at that? You’re a real big boy, aren’t ya? Come on, stand up. Don’t be a fucking pussy, keep your hands at your sides,” she demanded, and he did as he was told like a good boy.
The tent in his pants was just pure filth, absolutely obscene. There was a stain in the front thanks to his pre, and Clark was so red he looked like he was about to explode if he was squeezed too tight.
“This for me?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” Clark whimpered, his jaw clenching as she reached out to rub it over his pants. His fists clenched at his sides, wanting to remain perfectly still for her just as she wanted.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” she whispered, before reaching up and tangling her fingers in his hair to pull him down. His lips crashed against hers, his hands hovering in the air as he didn’t know where to touch her. “Don’t be a fucking pussy,” she whispered against his lips, grabbing his wrists and making him hold her ass.
They made out like their lives depended on it, all tooth and tongue. His wet dream was finally coming true, and he needed to pinch himself to remind himself that this was real, she was real. She shoved everything off her desk before sitting atop it, pulling Clark in to stand between her open legs. “You want this? I don't want you to feel coerced because of the dynamic here or whatever,” she asked against his lips, her hands roaming down his body.
“Y-yeah… yes ma’am, I want this.”
“On your knees.”
He did so immediately. His hands went to his knees. He was a vision like this. His chest was heaving, his cheeks were beautifully flushed and his lips were shiny from their shared saliva, his curls were all out of order. He was so pathetic, but he was pathetic for her.
She decided to tease him, slowly spreading her legs and reaching down to slowly hike her skirt up to reveal her very inviting thighs. He instinctively leaned in, his tongue almost subconsciously darting out between his lips until he felt the sharp poke of her heel against his chest holding him back. “Did I fucking say you could move?”
“N-no, ma’am, I’m sorry,” Clark exhaled.
“Beg me for it.”
“W-what? Why? Can't I just—”
“Don’t make me repeat myself or else I won’t hesitate to fire you and blacklist you from every publication in the fucking country.” He didn’t need to be told twice.
“Please.”
“Please, you sound so fucking pathetic, Clark,” she mocks. “Have some fucking balls, you can do it better than that. Can’t you? Or are you that fucking useless?”
“Please, let me taste you, ma’am. I need you like I need oxygen to keep me alive.”
“That’s better! See, your’e not as fucking useless as I thought, we learn something new everyday. Why don’t you take my panties off for me?”
Clark immediately reached up and hooked his fingers around the lace, but she stopped him again. “Not with your hands, Kent. God, are you really gonna make me have to explain everything? Are you that fucking dumb?” Clark whined at that, his cock throbbing insistently in his pants, but he understood. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned forward until his head was nudging her thighs apart. He was careful to not hurt her as his teeth caught the lace of her red panties, dragging them down her legs and then spitting them aside. With that, her fingers curled into his hair and finally tugged him closer, his tongue immediately darting out to lick a flat stripe up her slit.
She let him have his fun. He ate her out like a man starved. He was sloppy, basically making out with her pussy. He alternated between sucking on her clit and licking up and down her slit as he pumped two fingers in and out of her at a steady pace—his experimental phase in college had done him good. Her fingers were tight in his curls, keeping his head as close to her as possible. “Fuck, Kent, just like that. It’s good to know you’re at least useful for one thing,” she moaned out, laying flat on her desk, her back bowing clean off the wood as Clark’s fingers curled and brushed against a sweetspot. Her thighs clamped around his head, nearly suffocating him, but he could take it, thank Krypton.
It didn’t take much to make her cum. Clark, powers considered, was very skilled at reading a woman for her needs and responding accordingly. He lapped up the cum from her folds and her thighs, swallowing everything down without even needing to be told to. Her grip in his hair relaxed, and in an instant, her foot pressed against his chest to make him lay flat on the carpet. She straddled his lap and reached into his pocket to fish out a condom from his wallet—of course he had brought one, the horny fuck.
She leaned down and kissed him again at that, before pulling back to rip his shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere. Clark’s hands flew to the back of her dress, tugging the zipper down and shoving the dress off of her, meanwhile she quickly got rid of his pants and boxers. Clark was already hard, making it easy for her to roll the condom on. One of her hands wrapped around the base of his cock, lining it up with her pussy, the other wrapped around his throat to keep him in place as she sank down. Clark moaned—loudly—at that, making her squeeze his throat to cut off some of his air supply and keep him quiet.
“There we go, big boy, just feel it…”
His hands held her hips as an anchor to reality for himself. He needed something tangible to remind himself that this wasn’t one of his pathetic wet dreams again. This was real. He was finally fucking the boss he once believed he could only fantasize about. Before this, he’d gotten so desperate thinking about her that he only watched porn with models that looked eerily liked her, albeit with crippling guilt following after the act. Such a pervert, he was.
She slowly rocked her hips, lifting herself up and down on his cock, making his thighs slap obscenely with hers. The soft plap plap plap sound reverberated around the room until it was the only sinful thing Clark could focus on in his already fucked out state. He was just so sensitive, it wasn’t his fault.
“I’m gonna cum already, slow down. P-please, ma’am, gosh, I can't hold it for long.” Clark sounded like such a bitch in heat. It was a pretty sound and an even prettier sight, one that instinctively made her clamp down on his cock, coaxing out another pretty moan from his throat. “What the fuck did I tell you when I hired you, huh? I told you to not be such a fucking bitch. I pity you, Clark, such a big guy with so much potential just to end up being so fucking useless that he can’t hold back after two fucking minutes,” she huffed as she started bouncing faster on his cock. It deliciously dragged in and out of her, the gummy walls of her hugging the ridges and veins of his thick cock perfectly, as if she were the perfect piece to complete his puzzle.
“Please, ma’am, I’m gonna cum if you keep going like that, I’m sorry,” Clark cried out, his pretty blue eyes tearing up and his brows knitting together with effort as she squeezed harder around his throat and didn’t let up her pace. His fingers were tight around her hips, but not enough to actually physically stop her. At the same time, she clamped down on him and came again, triggering his own release. He spilled deep into the condom and nearly broke it thanks to the sheer force of his load. She then collapsed on top of him, the lacy fabric of her bra scratching against his peaked nipples. Her cheek pressed against his chest, their slick-with-sweat bodies sticking together as they both caught their breaths.
There was another comfortable silence that settled between the two as he wrapped his arms around her back and held her close to him, his head falling back against the carpet. It lingered for a while until she spoke up first.
“I think this goes without saying but this stays between us, okay?”
Clark nodded.
“...and I need you here early tomorrow, errands and such to run.” With that, she pulled up and off from him, his cock slapping against his stomach as she began to get dressed. “Alrighty, then, good work, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“R-right… yea, I’ll see you tomorrow…”
please don't redistribute my works anywhere - wtredprch
summary: one late night, clark is just surfing on the internet, bored, when he comes across a certain site. imagine his surprise when he finds out that you, his best friend, are a camgirl.
cw: porn and no plot, camgirl stuff (use of vibrator, f!masturbation, porn site), clark is such an awkward n horny nerd, he's low-key a huge slut, m!masturbation.
wc: 1.5k
a/n: requested by anon! i loved writing it <3 i'm thinking of doing a part 2...
When you told Clark that you'd picked up a little gig on the side for some extra cash, he'd assumed you were spending your weekends working at a café or at a bookstore. He did not suspect you'd turned to making dirty videos online.
Which is why he almost has a heart attack when, as he's scrolling in bed, an ad for a porn site pops up and it's a picture of you in a staggering state of undress.
His eyes widen, his ribs feeling tight around his lungs as his breathing suddenly comes a little labored. He blinks a couple of times, as if to clear his eyesight, but he's not deceived. It's you, with a little smirk on your mouth, the red lipstick you've got on matching the color of your see-through lingerie.
It's a babydoll, complete with stockings and a garter belt, and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
Clark knows he should scroll away, just ignore the ad and pretend he never saw anything. He knows he should start practicing how to not struggle to meet your gaze the next time he sees you at the office. But he knows, above all, that he should not access the site.
His thumb is hovering over the x to close the ad when he pauses.
It's like something comes over him, an impulsive, needy drive that’s impossible to ignore, and suddenly he's tapping on the ad.
It leads him to a video of you kneeling on a bed, that red babydoll completely see-through. He can see your breasts, your nipples already hard beneath the lace. He can see the shape of your body, and his eyes follow the contour of your hips, your thighs, the outline of your pussy…
He can feel heat spreading through his lower abdomen, his cock twitching as blood rushes south. Before he knows it, he’s hard in his sweats.
And, God, he shouldn’t be. He should be better than this, better than the base instinct that flares hot under his skin.
His eyes are glued to his screen, where you’re busy making a show of picking up a pretty pink vibrator and turning it on. You lay back on the bed, dragging the buzzing item over your skin. Your breathing grows heavy, and Clark can see the goosebumps that form as the toy goes over your breasts, your chest heaving with each labored breath you take. Your free hand tugs the red lace of your bra down, exposing your tits. Clark’s heart feels like it’s stopped.
He can’t look away from your breasts as you brush the vibrator over your hard nipples that are eager for attention. Your lips part to let out a soft, sweet moan, and Clark grunts, his hard cock twitching again. He reaches down, trying to adjust himself, and instead finds out that there’s a wet spot at the front of his sweats from his precum that’s started leaking.
The feel of it embarrasses him immensely. His face heats up, from the base of his neck to the tip of his ears, and he wishes he could control his body. He wants nothing but to get rid of the hard-on, click away from the video and forget he ever saw anything.
But now, you’re spreading your legs on the screen, pushing your panties to the side, and the moment Clark sees your pussy, whatever little wisps of decency were left are forgotten. He watches, awed, as your fingers spread your folds, showing your entrance, already wet and clenching around nothing.
His blood is hot as it rushes through his ears. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, his breath coming out in hard puffs as he watches you run your fingers up your slit. You hold them right up to the camera, showing your sticky arousal on your digits.
Clark pictures what it would be like to touch you, what it would feel like if it were his fingers gathering your wetness and then tasting it…
His hand makes its way into his pants to find his hard, engorged cock standing to attention. He is struggling to behave, trying his best to force his hand out of his sweats, but the ache of desire is stronger.
He wraps his fingers around himself and squeezes, his eyes fluttering at the immediate jolt of pleasure. Through heavy eyelids, Clark watches you dip your fingers into yourself and then pull them back out, giggling and mewling sweetly.
You lift your hips off the mattress to push the flimsy lace panties off and toss them aside. You spread your legs and finally push the toy in, and Clark has to make a conscious effort to keep himself from jizzing his pants on the spot.
Your moans come loud from his phone as you gently fuck yourself with the buzzing toy. Clark’s eyes are trained on your pussy, your hole dribbling and stretched out around the vibrator. Your gorgeous cunt is squelching loudly, needily, and Clark just wishes it was him in you, fucking you slow and deep.
He matches the strokes of his hand to the rhythm you set for the toy, tempted to close his eyes and imagine himself in you, but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your squirming, sweaty body on the screen.
“Feels so good,” your breathless voice echoes from his phone, your head lolled back as you turn up the vibrations, the steady buzz of the toy growing more audible. He watches your arousal drip around the base of the vibrator, slithering down your skin, between your asscheeks.
He can almost feel it on his cock, trickling down to his balls, and he twitches again as his thumb soothes at his leaking tip. He watches raptly as you start fucking yourself faster, harder, pulling the toy out quick only to push it in deeper with slick, obscene squelches.
The sound of it, combined with the way you’re gasping and whining, has Clark’s mind spinning.
What noises would you make if he were to fuck you? How would you sound while he tasted you? Would you cry his name or gasp it when you come?
He grunts, pushing his pants hastily down his hips before returning to jerking himself off. He squeezes his cock roughly, the thick head an angry red from how hard he is. The vein along his shaft is bulging, and a little trail of precum glistens on his skin from where it’s dribbled down his length.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” you whine on screen, your thighs trembling. Clark feels hazy as he watches you struggle to thrust the toy now from how tight your gummy walls are clenching it.
Your curses dissolve into incoherent whines and moans as you start canting your hips against the toy. Clark watches you get closer and closer, until you inhale sharply and pause for a second…
“Oh, fuck!”
…and then you come, your beautiful body quivering, arousal glistening all over your needy cunt as you fall over the edge.
Clark just can’t look away, and he can’t stop his hand from jerking faster and squeezing tighter, until he comes too.
“Aw, shit,” he mumbles, throwing his head back against the headboard as his orgasm washes over him. Rope after rope of thick, milky cum spills onto his abdomen and hand, hot and sticky where it lands. His mind has gone completely blank, save for the image of you finding your climax with that toy stuffed in your perfect hole.
As he slowly comes down, he realizes what he’s done and quickly closes the video. He sits on his bed for a long while, feeling like shit.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I watch that? Why would I get off to it? Jesus.
He tries to go about his night as he normally would, but the thought of you haunts him. The way you’d looked, the way you’d sounded…
It haunts him all night, and well into the next day. He’s barely had any sleep by the time his alarm rings. And even once he’s in the office, he can’t stop thinking about it.
He’s early for once, the bullpen just about empty, and he sits himself down at his desk, reluctant to even glance at his phone. He knows he’ll go right back to your content if he does, and the temptation is so strong…
Just one more look couldn’t hurt.
He goes back into the site and clicks on your profile, merely checking out the videos you have. He promises himself he won’t subscribe, and promises himself he won’t actually watch any of the others.
He’s so caught up in going through your profile that he basically jumps out of his skin when your voice, high-pitched with alarm, comes from right beside him as you glance over his shoulder.
“Clark, what are you doing?!”
a/n 2: sorry about the delay! life got me down and has been kicking me while i'm down, but i'm pushing through. the summer always cheers me up a little, and now that i'm on vacation, i'm doing better <3 i love you all and i hope you enjoyed this!! :)
♡ please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing
Clark Kent masterlist
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𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk <3
Description: When Johnny is sent to investigate suspicious steam coming out of a sewer, he doesn’t expect a woman from another dimension to climb out of it. You look at him like he’s your knight in shining armor, and he realizes very soon you possess the ability to completely derail his life.
Inspired on the movie Enchanted ✨
Tags/Warnings: whimsy!reader, fluff, humor, cheeky references to other characters and universes, yearner!johnny being down bad for women out of this world.
Notes: I’ve been feeling whimsy lately and it’s all thanks to my dear @vividxpages, so this one is dedicated to her 🤍 I’ve also missed writing our dramatic prince Johnny, and ended up giggling a lot while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼
Masterlist
Johnny had just walked out of the shower when his Fantastic Watch™ beeped. Wrapped in only a towel from the waist down, he steamed the remaining water off his body as he reached for it.
‘Steam rising from a sewer system detected in Midtown, please go check it out – Reed.’
He chuckled. The situation seemed a little bit dramatic to call a whole superhero, but Johnny Storm never missed a public appearance if the opportunity arose. He quickly got dressed in his blue suit, making sure his hair was fully dry before smiling to his reflection, and stepping out into the living room.
Ben, who was reading a book on one of the large couches, watched Johnny stroll to the kitchen island to snatch a fresh Maisie’s cookie from the batch H.E.R.B.I.E was putting on a tray, giving him a little pet in the process.
“Hey, J,” Ben called, just as Johnny reached the balcony and burst into flames. “If you find anything weird down there, try not to flirt with it,” he teased without looking up, and a robotic giggle was heard from the kitchen.
Traitor, Johnny thought, narrowing his eyes at Herbert.
Ben thought he was so smug ever since the whole Herald fiasco. But Johnny, ever the sweet summer boy, just gave him a pearly white condescending smile before finally taking off into the night.
A few minutes later, Johnny lands in the middle of a street in Times Square, where traffic has stopped and a crowd has gathered around a rattling sewer lid. There’s indeed thick white clouds coming out of it, and Johnny can feel the high temperature as he lands next to them.
People gasp when they see him, then cheer and whistle because salvation has arrived.
‘Human torch!’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘I told the mayor he needed to check on the system ages ago!’
“Alright everyone, back up,” he puts on a smile, shooing people away with his arms. “I got it covered–”
A loud metal sound makes him turn around, and the manhole cover blasts upward landing on top of a car nearby with a loud crash. People scream and scatter away, and Johnny flames on instantly, absorbing all the heat that pours out of it.
The white steam subsides, replaced by some lilac, glittering particles that make Johnny cough a few times, swatting at it with his gloved hands. Once Johnny can see clearly again–or maybe not–he notices there’s something peeking out.
Is that…a hand?
A hand comes out to grab the edge of the sewer, but he sees no claws or scales or weirdly colored skin, no…it’s a woman’s hand wrapped in delicate lace gloves. Then the other hand comes out, clearly trying to prop themselves up.
Johnny’s fire dies when he sees no imminent danger, and he frowns at the small coughs coming from inside, stepping closer to see when something finally emerges from the sewer.
You emerge.
“Oof,” you say, using all your strength to climb out of…whatever you were in.
The puffy white gown you’re wearing spreads around you as your heels finally touch the ground, layers upon layers of sparkling fabric drag through the glittery pavement when you straighten yourself up. You brush away dust from your giant skirt, too lost in your own world to notice that the crowd around you has gone dead silent, and Johnny looks flat out bewildered.
That is, until a car blasts its horn, making you jump so hard you almost fall back into the sewer.
Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist, catching you immediately. You yelp, clinging to your savior, and that’s when your eyes finally meet. Your breath hitches, but all you needed was one look to that perfect blonde hair and those bright blue eyes to exhale in relief.
“Oh, thank goodness!” you say giddily, “Is this the Barbie Kingdom?”
Johnny doesn’t answer because quite frankly, what the fuck?
You don’t seem to mind, your melodic voice keeps spilling out excitedly. “My bad, Ken. I know it’s not a kingdom anymore! That democracy thing you have going on is spectacular, I really admire–” your enthusiasm dies out a little when your eyes dart around, realizing there’s zero pink in this place, only strangers, a bunch of weird colored lights, and the guy you’re holding onto for dear life is looking at you like you’re insane. “But this…doesn’t look like Barbieland,” you add with a nervous laugh. “Are you…a prince?”
Barbieland. A prince?
(I mean, he’ll take the compliment, but ????)
Johnny’s confused gaze darts all over your face, then down to your dress. A wedding dress. There are actual sparkles woven into it, and he’s sure your skirt alone weighs more than him. The white fabric is pristine and you smell like flowers, not like you just crawled out of a sewer.
And you just called him Ken. Thank God Ben is not here.
“Umm, kind sir?” You snap him out of his trance, still gripping his forearms. “Can you please tell me what kingdom is this?”
He looks at you, then at the crowd that’s just as confused as him, before replying hesitantly.
“...Manhattan?” He says, and it does very little to calm you down. He clears his throat, finally releasing you from his grip so you feel more comfortable. “You can call me Johnny, by the way,” he says, giving you his best trademark smile.
You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Well, Johnny of Manhattan,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to avoid making eye contact with the people whispering around you, and the noise of those weird metal boxes with wheels. “Do you know Andalasia?”
Even with all the extensive space knowledge Johnny possesses, he can’t really point out a place in the universe named like that.
“Is that your planet?” He asks, making you chuckle softly. Johnny delights in the sound, he feels like any moment now birds will wake up to surround you and start chirping.
“It’s my world,” you say, your voice turning more nostalgic now. “I was meant to marry The Bat Prince Edward today, my Eddie, and now I’ve fallen into this terrible place...”
“…Right.”
Johnny tries to consider all options.
Maybe you hit your head? Or you were some junkie? A very dedicated theater kid? Method actor? Or maybe, crazy idea, you were telling the truth. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because your laced gloved hand suddenly reaches for his.
“Please, can you help me go back?” You ask desperately.
Johnny looks where your hands meet, and decides to ignore the creeping blush on his face and the intrusive thoughts. She’s engaged. She’s probably crazy. But she’s so beautiful–no! Stop it, Johnny.
The last time he had a crush on a woman that showed up unannounced on his planet, things had not ended well.
“I know someone who might,” is all he says, avoiding your eyes. Since when does Johnny Storm get shy?
You squeal immediately, practically leaping into his chest to give him a hug he certainly wasn’t expecting. Johnny laughs surprised, trying not to get lost in your sweet perfume. A white flash suddenly blinds you, and your eyes widen in panic at the crowd closing in.
‘Johnny, who is she?’ ‘Another Herald?’ ‘Is this for a movie?”
Without thinking you cling tighter to Johnny, who you’ve decided is the only person you can trust in this weird place, and that does something alarming to his stupid little heart. Red flag, red flag–whatever, he decides to step up to the role, shielding you from the photographers.
“Alright, show’s over everybody!” He announces with a smile, never losing that golden boy persona, before turning back to you. “Okay, princess, you’re coming with me,” he says, pointing upward.
“...How?” You ask, staring up at the sky with a frown.
“You just hold on, and try not to scream,” he winks at you, and before you can react he’s picking you up bridal style, bunching the skirt of your dress so it’s not on the way. “I’ll try not to scorch it, but no promises.”
“Scorch it? What do you mea–oh my god…”
The night sky glows with fire coming out of this man’s body, as he flies you across the Manhattan realm. Truth to be told, coming from a world of magic and curses, this may not be the craziest thing that has ever happened to you.
You land on the balcony of a tower that looks absolutely nowhere near the ones made of stone back home. And thank the universe you’re too busy gawking at the view, because Johnny is able to sneakily pat the ends of your dress that caught on a few flames without you noticing.
“Oh wow…” you whisper, placing your gloved hands on the railing, overwhelmed by all the movement and lights and floating things. “Your world is strange, Johnny of Manhattan,” you laugh softly.
Johnny chuckles, and wow, this is not what he thought his night would be like. But then you gasp, pointing at the sky.
“We have the same moon!” You exclaim, placing your elbow on the railing and your cheek on your palm as you stare longingly at the sky. “Don’t you like it, Johnny? Knowing she’s always there?”
Johnny smiles, but he’s not sure it’s because of the celestial body he’s admired since he was a little boy, or the way you seem completely mesmerized by it.
“I’ve always loved her,” Johnny says fondly, stepping next to you with both hands on the railing, but he doesn’t look up. His eyes stay on you. He watches you sigh dreamily, and it makes him smirk. “Is this the part where we start singing about our heart’s wishes?”
“What? Noo,” you chuckle, without taking your eyes off the moon. “It just means home must be close if we can see the same stars…”
Right, home. Johnny forces himself to take his eyes off you, and as he peeks inside the empty living room, he notices Ben is no longer there. Perfect.
“Come on, let’s go inside, princess,” he says, and you turn to him with a smile.
He bows to let you go first, and you do a little bow in return. Your enormous skirt barely manages to cross the threshold with a few tugs. The black fabric at the ends, courtesy of the human torch, drags across the carpeted floors as you slowly take in every detail. He guides you into a big metal box, and presses a panel. You extend your arms for balance as the thing begins going up all of a sudden.
“Fascinating,” you whisper.
Johnny watches you with a smile and pride blooming in his chest. The Baxter Building is a marvel even for normal people, to you? It must be mind blowing. The innocent awe in your face makes Johnny feel that familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.
Bad Johnny.
“Okay, number one rule,” he clears his throat, compensating by the thing he does best: joking. “We’re going into the ogre’s swamp, so you’re better off not touching anything.”
He feels proud of it, at least until you look at him horrified and recoil in fear.
“An ogre? Oh no no no no…” you shake your head, reaching for the panel and pressing it frantically until the thing stops moving. “I don’t like those, absolutely not.”
“No, wait, sorry,” Johnny apologizes. “It was just a joke. We’re going to my brother in law’s lab, and he’s a bit…particular,” he explains, and only presses the button to keep going up when you nod. “Just uh…follow my lead, and you’ll be fine,” he says, when the elevator comes to a stop.
He stretches his neck, bouncing slightly on his feet and giving himself a small pep talk you can’t really understand. Then the doors open to another colorful, open place that makes your eyes go wide. Johnny strolls in first, and you follow behind like an anxious lost puppy.
“Reed!” he calls out dramatically, to a figure leaning over a counter. “I bring gifts from my mission!”
The man–not ogre, thank the stars–Reed, doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. His intention to ignore Johnny doesn't last long though, because he hears a pair of heels clicking on the floor that definitely don’t belong to his brother in law. He lifts his gaze, and his eyes immediately land on you.
“Why is there a bride in my lab?” He deadpans, looking at you up and down. “For the love of God, Jonathan, don’t tell me you–”
“Uh-uh,” Johnny cuts him off, holding a finger in the air before spreading his arms in a flourish to gesture at you. “I present to you: the steaming sewer.”
“Hiii!” You smile politely, waving at Reed. “Are you the ruler of this realm?”
Reed now looks at Johnny, exasperation written all over his face. “Explain yourself.”
“She came out of the sewer,” Johnny shrugs, looking too smug for his own good. “Dress and all.”
“I did,” you nod enthusiastically, not really helping at all.
Reed sighs, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers, but by the time he opens them again, you’ve already wandered to one of his old models with a curiosity that reminds him of his own son.
“Oooh, what’s this?” You ask, reaching for a red lever.
“No, don’t touch–“
You gasp in delight as the lights flicker when you pull on it, but Johnny catches your hand just in time before you pull the whole thing and cut the power of the entire building. He gently guides you away from the counters, smiling apologetically at Reed’s resting bitch face.
Ogre, indeed.
The doors of the metal box you arrived in open again, and a woman storms in carrying a child in her arms. He doesn’t even look a year old.
“Not only are you working late, but you’re messing with the power while I’m trying to put Franklin to bed and I–” The woman stops in his tracks when she sees you standing in the middle of the lab. Her eyes go to Johnny, and she only has to raise her eyebrows for him to look like a scolded child.
“Sue, I can explain. Don’t panic, she’s just a–”
“Pwincess!” The baby in her arm babbles, clapping his little hands together.
You coo at the baby, but stay put where you are, not wanting to crowd the woman narrowing her eyes at you. You gather the fabric of your dress and give them a little curtsy.
“Thank you, little bean. But I’m not a princess yet,” you say, pressing one hand to your chest.
Sue notices the way you clutch the fabric of your dress nervously, and curiosity gets the best of her.
“Did you escape from your wedding?” She asks, but there’s no real malice behind it.
“I didn’t escape,” you shake your head, looking down to the floor. “I believe someone may have tried to kill me and I ended up here instead.”
“Oh honey,” her expression softens, not entirely sure why she believes you’re harmless to her family. At least at this moment.
Johnny does, and he sighs, because now you’ve activated Sue’s mom instincts. How is he supposed to not get attached?
At least she won’t be telling him to kill you.
“Where exactly did Johnny find you, sweetheart?” She asks, bouncing little Franklin on her hip.
“Johnny says it’s called a sewer!”
Sue just nods, looking between Reed and Johnny but the latter just smiles with a shrug. A sudden blue light washes over you, but before you can panic Johnny shows you it’s coming from a little device Reed is hunching over.
“He’s just scanning you to see how we can help,” Johnny explains reassuringly, and you nod as the light keeps going all over you.
“Fascinating,” Reed says after a few minutes, walking away from the thingy to circle you. “No traces of chemical intoxication. Her body has adapted to survive in our environment, but her clothing fibers are unlike anything I’ve seen on this planet.”
“Oh! My dress was hand sewn with the help of my friends. Mouses and rabbits are very talented when it comes to special fabrics,” you say matter of factly.
“Mouses and rabbits.” Reed repeats and you nod happily. Jesus Christ.
“H.E.R.B.I.E told me you were all here. What’s going on?” A new voice echoes across the lab as the doors open again. ”Uhh, is Johnny getting married and didn’t tell us?”
You turn around to see a tall man made out of orange rocks and your shoulders sag in relief. Finally, someone normal around here. But before you can ask him if he knows how to get to your kingdom, Reed is already gesturing for him.
“Perfect timing, Ben. Team gathering. Now.”
Ben obeys, following him without taking his eyes off you. Sue walks past you, and Franklin giggles when he tries to grab one of your puffy sleeves and fails. Reed motions them deeper into the lab, and Johnny walks backwards to look at you.
“Don’t touch anything,” he mouths, and your eyes drift immediately towards another lever device on the counter. “Especially that!” He whisper-shouts, and you nod innocently, clasping your hands behind your back.
He flashes you a grin before jogging to meet the others, who are already explaining the situation to Ben. You can hear the whispering, but you can’t really make out what they’re saying, so you distract yourself with your own dress.
On the far corner of the lab…
“She came out of a sewer, and you believe she’s a princess?” Ben asks, biting back a smile as he watches Johnny roll his eyes.
“She could be delusional. Experimenting a psychological episode perhaps.” Reed says.
“Then why didn’t your scans show anything?” Johnny crosses his arms.
Reed hesitates, because the machine may not show physical abnormalities, but your mental state is a different thing.
“My love?” Reed asks the person he trusts the most in the room.
“She looks harmless,” Sue shrugs, shifting Franklin who’s starting to fall asleep on her shoulder.
“She is harmless,” Johnny says immediately.
“You've known her for like twenty minutes,” Ben teases.
“Yeah, and in those twenty minutes she’s been overwhelmed, yet polite enough to ask for our help. After all we’ve seen lately, I think we’re safe–just…look at her.”
They all glance back.
You’re standing exactly where Johnny left you, carefully lifting the edge of your gown and gasping in visible distress when you notice it has turned black.
“Oh no…my dress…”
Johnny mentally slaps himself when you look at the singed fabric with a sad face. Okay, maybe flying in flames while carrying a hundred pounds of magical tulle had been a bad idea.
“So who’s the lucky fella?” Ben whispers, nudging his arm to get his attention.
Johnny takes a second too long to take his eyes away from you, before turning back to the group with the answer.
“She said she was marrying some prince named Eddie,” Johnny explains, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t trust him, what if he’s the one who sent her away?”
“Or…maybe you just want to steal his bride,” Ben says without hesitation, making Sue snort. Even Reed’s mouth twitches.
Johnny groans, stepping back to point between them defensively.
“No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong! Absolutely wrong,” he defends himself, but his family has the audacity to laugh in his face.
“Johnny–”
“No! This isn’t another Shalla-bal situation,” he insists, crossing his arms. “That was months ago. Besides, can you really blame me? She was gorgeous.”
“And do you think the princess is gorgeous?” Sue asks with a knowing smile.
He glances at you once again, and it’s a bad idea, because Herbert has rolled into the room too and now you are bending slightly so you can pet his weird head. You were actually petting him. The droid is complimenting your dress, and you thank him giddily because you somehow understand what he’s saying.
“I fear the gown may be ruined, though,” you add with a small laugh.
“It still looks pretty on you,” Johnny blurts out loudly from his spot.
You straighten up to look at him, and your flustered face makes it difficult for him to not smile like a lovesick puppy. What the hell is happening to him?
When he turns back around, everyone is staring at him. Johnny closes his eyes with a grimace, sighing.
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“I say you’re toast already,” Ben says, amused, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Good thing you can handle some heat–“
“I’m not handling any heat–“
“Alright!” Reed shuts them up. “Until we understand what happened, we can’t exactly send her anywhere,” Reed says, exhaling in defeat.
That makes Johnny perk up immediately with a smile that’s nothing but trouble.
“So we’re keeping her?” He says.
“We are letting her stay temporarily because she clearly needs help,” Sue corrects, giving him a warning look. “And you are going to behave.”
“Yes, absolutely!” Johnny nods, way too fast and completely unconvincing. Sue narrows her eyes at him. “Your mistrust wounds me, sister. I’m always on my best behavior.”
She glares at him one last time, before gesturing with her head at the group to walk back to you. She notices H.E.R.B.I.E has stuck to your side, and seems to be charmed by you as much as Johnny is. Which is another positive point in your favor.
“You can stay with us until we figure things out,” Sue says with a reassuring smile. “We’ll do our best to find your home.”
Your eyes go wide, the relief washing your face makes you look even brighter. Johnny has to keep himself from clutching his chest dramatically.
“Oh, I’m eternally grateful to all of you,” you say, lifting the fabric once again to do a full curtsy. “But especially to you, Johnny of Manhattan, because you were the one to trust me enough to bring me to your castle,” you add with a smile, straightening up and walking toward him to pressing a soft kiss on his warm cheek.
Johnny stills on his spot as your lips delicately graze his skin, before you pull apart a walk alway like nothing happened. His hand lifts instinctively to touch the spot you kissed, and this time his family’s snickers are inevitable.
Maybe Ben was right. Maybe he’s toast. Burned toast.
As he watches you obliviously hum a little tune for Franklin, who’s drooling away on Sue’s shoulder, acceptance hits him like a train.
He was absolutely doomed the second you climbed out of that sewer.
Thank you for reading this small fairytale! Feedback is always appreciated 💗🦇
GIRLL OMFG THAT ROOMATE MOMMY READER FIC WAS SOO DELICIOUS???
you think she lets him suck on her tits early on in their relationship? I know hes a clit lover but deep down he sometimes carves her tits in his mouth :(
Like on a rough day he'd come home to find his mommy, just sitting and reading a book and then she'd see him crying and immediately start unbuttoning her top so her best boy could suck his worries away :( ofc clarkie being the good boy he is asks mommy for her permission but not this time...his boss yelled at him and lex kept calling him an unlovable alien :(((((
warning(s): explicit 18+ more mommy kink, roommates, anxiety ridden clark solving all his troubles with loving on his mommy (sequel fic to the one I have pinned) <3
clark’s head remains down as he trudged up to their front door and twists his key in the lock, sighing with another lump stuck in his throat that had been screaming at him all day to just let him cry.
he can’t take the confrontation from his boss or especially the sheer volume while getting reprimanded in such a demanding, degrading way. getting screamed at for his simple mistakes always puts clark down, makes him drag his feet, makes him repeat all of the insults thrown at him in his head over and over until they stick, almost starting to define him, demeaning his entire character and his level of intelligence. the last thing he wanted was to appear as sensitive, as weak as he truly feels. so he sucks it up. alleviates his mistake. calmly apologizes, lets his supervisor know it won’t happen again. but on the way home is when it all boils back up, like the burner tied to his emotional regulation had been left on and had steadily been turning up until he was riled up to a hundred.
clark knows where his needs will be fulfilled. where he’ll be reassured that he’s not his mistakes, that they don’t define him, that they happen to the best of us. it was in her arms. it was her gentle voice always reminding him that he’s more than worthy even if he’s not exactly perfect.
the tears are already brimming and blurring his vision, causing him to rapidly blink them away and shake his head with a sniffle as he hangs up his coat, takes off his shoes.
she’s there on their living room recliner, reading with her glasses on her nose, cozy with a big blanket swallowing her up. it smells like she made brownies too. the air of comfort should throw all of his worries away and out the door. what happened at work was only at work, he shouldn’t be taking it all home. but that’s not how clark’s head ever seemed to behave. he still remembers all his wrongdoings, his inferiority to some of his peers performing well above him. and their boss surely knows it too.
she puts a bookmark on her page and starts moving to get up and greet clark, a warm open smile on her face. clark immediately shakes his head and goes over to her, murmuring with a low, weak voice to tell her not to get up from her comfortable spot just for him. he marches over to her and doesn’t want to watch her face contort into worry, opening her arms as he comes over and balls himself up in her lap.
“oh no. baby, what happened today? was work too much?”
clark already has tears uncontrollably running down his face before he shoves himself into her bosom, sobbing into her chest as he breaks down and loses any facade of composure he’d tried putting on for his entire day.
“I…. I made…. a mistake,” he whimpers out. “got yelled at. of course. cause I’m just so stupid I can’t seem to do anything right anymore.”
she pats his back and runs her hands over his combed hair. she takes off his glasses for him and sets them down on them table while clark continues to cry, only word able to come out of him being mommy, mommy, mommy.
“shhh. I’m here. I’m here, baby. don’t be scared. you made a mistake is all, we all do. you aren’t a bad person or a stupid person for that. come here.”
he sniffles and licks his lips, suddenly salivating in a trance that’s pulling him out of his head when she starts unbuttoning her top.
“I know what you need.”
he looks at her with a little pout of his lower lip. “I need you, mommy. always need you….”
“I know.”
and then he’s ducking his head and wrapping his lips gently around a nipple, suckling like this is all he needed all day. her nipples harden from the cool air and the bud remains hard as his warm flush tongue swirls around and suckles down, humming as he nurses from his only caregiver.
“I missed you so much. all day mommy. needed you so much. wanted to be here instead, pleasing you.”
“you were so strong today. you’re my strong boy. you know that?”
she coos and plays with his hair. clark whines some more that he’s in heaven when she takes care of him like this, assures him like this. the tears have quietly began to dry as he keeps suckling, little noises coming from his mouth and the contact made on her delicate skin. after a few moments he switches to her other nipple, humming and closing his eyes in a daze. she tells him again that he’s worthy of love, that he’s as human as the rest of them, even if he’s from another planet he’s shown he is just as vulnerable, multifaceted, and caring as anyone else — despite what the news may say, despite what his enemies may try and claim.
“they make up stories about me. that I’m weird, that I don’t belong.”
“exactly, baby. they’re making it all up. where you belong is right here. right in mommy’s lap. you know I’ll always cherish you, especially on your hardest days,” she whispers sternly, making clark agree with a nod, giving in to her words before he helplessly goes back to sucking on her breast.
“I made brownies for us,” she coos after a while of soothing clark as he suckles each nipple. “how does a brownie and a glass of milk sound?”
“mmm. could smell them when I walked in. sounds amazing, momma,” he hums, still cuddling into her, kissing on her collarbones until he reaches her face. she looks at him with an honest understanding, like she knows exactly what he goes through and faces every single day and is all the more proud of him for always getting through it. for being brave, for never changing who he is just because he doesn’t fit certain expectations. if he needs to suck on his girlfriend’s clit, or her nipples, or cry into her shoulder to calm himself down, she’s more than willing — more than happy to provide what he needs to survive such a cold world.
they both get up and head to the kitchen, clark stuffing his face with glee and praising her for her delicious hard work. she pours him a glass of milk to go along with it, and he graciously drinks it up to wash down all the chocolate on his tongue. after dessert she brings him back to the living room with a tug of his arm, this time heading to their couch for more space for his long limbs to sprawl out. clark’s mouth began to water and all the worries in his brain began to fade out as she pulls her sweatpants down, then her panties included in a little pile on the floor. adjusts her top so her breasts can each fall out and be exposed to the air. it’s the most mouthwatering sight clark could have ever seen.
“mommy, mommy I…”
“have your pick, or take turns with your mouth on each. I know what you need,” she beckons him to the couch and he gets down on his knees to the floor right beside her. “I know what you go through. you need mommy now more than ever, don’t you?”
“mmmhm,” he agrees, leaning in and kissing her on the lips, not hiding his possessive side as he grabs onto her breast and twirls with one of her nipples that he’d been nursing on. “I always need you mommy. you’re so smart and so giving,” clark sighs as his lips open up to her skin, licking like he was seconds away from giving her a hickey. “so beautiful. you’ve taught me about what it means to be good. I have to lick you everywhere I can…. tasting you is what I live for, what I wait to come home to all day,” he whimpers. she shushes him and tugs him to bring him closer, having him lay on the other end of the couch between her open legs. “you’re everything and more.”
“I love you, baby boy,” she hums. he says he loves her more. she in turn pulls the hood of her clit up as he brings his face closer in, breathing her pussy in and planting little kisses to prep her for what was to come. “you can start on my clit then go back to my tits, okay?”
“okay, yeah, yeah please.”
and then clark eats all night, putting his mouth to work on her pussy, on her breasts, all down her thighs. scattering kisses and love bites everywhere he desires. she bucks her hips and her breasts up into his mouth every time, watches as he goes completely lax without a single thought to overwhelm him or harm him anymore. he doesn’t have to be in his head when his mouth is going to work on the woman he loves.
. . .
more lovey dovey cry baby clark <3 thank you for the support on the last mommy kink clark fic (the previous one to this sequel basically) 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 I love the kind words so so much and I could weep at comments for real
roommate best friend Clark who reader convinced to suck on her pussy when he’s home sick as she’s his new mommy . Best friend Clark who wants to have his face pressed on her pussy when he sleeps. Best friend Clark who has to suck on her pussy to fall asleep and feel safe . Best friend Clark who has to at least suck in it for a good hour in the morning to even think straight.
warning(s): explicit 18+ mommy kink, panic attacks, clark has separation anxiety and finds relief between his mommy’s legs
clark rubs his arm as he anxiously paces back and forth in the night, careful to try and keep his impending panic attack quiet as to not wake his roommate who was only a few feet and a thin wall away. a noisy owl had sat in the tree just outside his bedroom window, echoing a call over and over and not adding anything positive to his vulnerable headspace. not to mention the frequent nightmares lately have frightened him right out of bed, trying his best to somehow calm himself down with an ice pack to his forehead and a few desperate gulps of tap water from the sink in their kitchen.
he feels lonely at times like this, homesick for the farm he was raised in, for his parents that had always checked in on his night terrors like these with soothing back rubs and a warm glass of milk for all his ails. now he’s states away from them with stacks of bills and responsibilities, and being away from his safe, trusted loved ones and only main support system has been the biggest mental battle he’s ever fought.
with a plain frown, he scratches his back before throwing his blanket over his body and tip toeing downstairs, hoping some fresh air might do something for his nervous system. every step is carefully placed as to not creek the floor, every move so methodically planned. he hugs himself as he grabs the carton from the fridge and fills a glass up with milk and microwaves it until it’s warm. careful not to let the alarming beep go off before he hugs it to his chest and takes a thick sip as he slowly slides the back door open and steps out.
the air is crisp, with a subtle wind blowing and shaking some of the leaves off the trees in the distance. clark makes a point to keep the main light turned off as to not be noticed and takes thoughtful sips of his milk, looking up at the stars. it could’ve been ten, twenty minutes for all he knew that he’d stayed like that outside. trying to get ahold of his racing thoughts and anxieties manifesting from his fear of being so far away from home. his ma and pa still call to check in on him every now and then and check in to see if his nightmares are still as bad as they were when he was a child. clark is always assuring them that he’s doing just fine even if he’s lying through his teeth. they care enough to notice the dip in his voice while he lies, but they don’t prod any further if he wasn’t opening the door to talking himself through it. they figure he has new friends of his own in his life that he can confide in.
a helpless tear rolls down from his left eye before he can stop it, an unexpected sob rushing from his throat after he finishes his glass of milk and sets it down on the side table. in a quick, anxious attempt to conceal the noise of his sobs he covers his mouth and shields his face with the blanket, knowing that the tears were still coming and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop them. all’s he could do was let them out and hope for the best that he isn’t making noise, that this is just going to be one bad night and that tomorrow night will be better.
his eyes are red and exhausted from his hands angrily scrubbing over them. since he’s in the dark he thinks he’s in the clear.
when he thinks the worst wave of it is over, he tries to swallow the lump in his throat and gets up to head back to the kitchen for another glass of milk, and gets stopped in his tracks from the kitchen light turning on.
like a vampire in the sun, he flinches and covers his face, head going down in shame while he sniffles and tries acting like he wasn’t just crying his heart out like a pathetic loner on the back porch. his roommate, squinting with her own glass of milk in hand, scratches her bird’s nest of bed head and lazily smiles at clark.
“oh. hey! I didn’t know you were out there. I was about to lock you out,” she says casually, yawning and sipping her glass before she notices the great lengths he’s going to avoid her gaze. “woah. are you—hey, are you okay?”
all clark can muster is a piss poor excuse for a blatant lie of “yeah.” his voice even cracks too, adding a cherry on top of a very pathetic cake.
she doesn’t blink or even think for a second before she’s rushing over. the sweetheart that she is. her warm hands felt like a hot stove up against his cool cheeks, pushing her thumbs up his chin so his face can’t hide from her anymore, and she sees it. she sees it all. the tear stained cheeks, the red, puffy eyes, the snot probably still stuck in his nose.
“I’m fine—“ he tries to squeal, the sniffling not helping his case. she looks at him with deep, sincere concern in her eyes, doesn’t speak for a long moment before bringing him in a long, warm bear hug. and clark’s water works begin all over again. sobs wreck his throat, tears gush out to his cheeks and down his jaw, tickling him. he says he’s sorry, says he doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, says he didn’t mean to wake her up and that he’ll make it up to her if he did.
“clark, don’t apologize. don’t apologize.”
she brushes the back of his hair and rubs along his back over his blanket still shielding him. clark says sorry again anyway, desperate to assure her that nothing is wrong, nothing happened, he just ‘gets like this sometimes.’
“I know we don’t talk a lot about things beyond the surface level bullshit, but you’re seriously breaking my heart right now. you can absolutely talk to me, get off whatever is heavy on your mind,” she murmurs. rocks him back and forth in her arms while he towers over her with his stature.
he chuckles through a sob at that, ducking into her shoulder and lets himself get rocked like a baby. can’t help himself but to relish in the warm, inviting embrace, nuzzling himself into her like she’s his lifeline.
“I uh, I just get… I get real homesick. and lonely. I miss my parents, it’s been h—hard to adjust being away from them, they’re all I had for so long,” clark musters to speak, voice quivering through more than half of his words. she offers him her glass of milk with a raised brow, to which he smiles and graciously takes the glass, hesitating at first but ultimately giving in and taking a sip. it did wonders for his throat, thickly swallowing and carefully going in for another before he sets it down on the counter and sheepishly goes back in for another hug, bending his neck down to shove his face back in her shoulder. of course she smells so comforting, and it was addicting already to sniff her hair that was graced with the fresh scent of that shampoo that sat in their shower. it really soothed him to be held, to be held by her, specifically — his beautiful, patient, kind and understanding roommate of three months that hasn’t made a single complaint about living with him, and on paper really hasn’t given clark a single reason to not feel like he could open himself up to her like this. he supposed his nerves always got in the way.
“what do you miss about home the most?”
clark pulls back and looks at her, turning red when she wipes a stray tear away and holds onto his face. “I um, I miss… I miss getting physical touch, physical touch like this,” he admits. “I miss my ma’s homemade bread. I miss both my parents helping me with—with my nightmares,” he swallows, averting his eyes to the floor with a bite of his lower lip. “they’d stay up with me, warm me up some milk, tell me that I’m not alone. I can’t… I just can’t seem to get any sleep when I’m alone,” he breathes out.
she nods her head slowly in understanding. gets up on her tippy toes to give his cheek a kiss, and clark reels from the contact, clenching his jaw and rapidly blinking his eyes while he wonders if what just happened really just happened.
“let’s get you some more warm milk, then I’m taking you up to my room. sound good?”
. . .
clark cluelessly follows her back upstairs to her bedroom, awkwardly stepping as he’s led by her hand in his. she took it to heart when he said he missed physical affection, and her hands have stayed on him since.
her room has always looked cooler than clark’s. posters decked out on the walls, bohemian plants strung out and framing along her window. she has a diffuser that makes the room smell soft and almost tropical. used bras and panties strung along her full hamper, and the sight makes him try to stifle a smile, rubbing his lips together.
“come here,” she guides. laying on one side of her bed, leaving plenty of room for him to get in right beside her. she expectedly holds her hand out for him, watching intently as he carefully sets his full glass of milk down and shuffles into the empty side of the bed, unsure of where his long limbs should really go.
“you can spread out you know. don’t have to stay crumbled up in a ball all night.”
it could have come out snarky, sarcastic, witty — but it comes out sincere instead, like she didn’t want to just watch him remain so uncomfortable.
with a thoughtful sigh, he gives in and spreads his legs out, grazing hers in the process and holds onto his blanket with his other hand that wasn’t grasped in hers. of course it dawned on him how intimate this really was, how she saw him cry and her first actions were to hold him, talk to him, give him more milk. it strangely makes his lower belly start to tingle almost with what felt like butterflies while he works himself up about how maternal his roommate really was towards him. the rocking back and forth in their hug, the gentle reassurance, the open ears that didn’t judge him for a split second.
it fills him with another burst of emotion, enough to make him get on his knees and start to cry again.
he turns towards her, finding she was already looking at him, wondering what the hell he was probably thinking so loud about.
“thank you,” he licks his lips. “thank you for doing this. for being kind to me. I don’t really cry in front of people except my family. I don’t mean to dump all of my problems on you.”
she shakes her head and scoots closer, slowly reaching an arm over his chest, testing to see if it’s boundary crossing or if it comforts him. clark scoots further into her, rushing to answer the quiet question: how close can they really get?
“you’re not dumping anything if I wanna hear it,” she replies. “hate to see a face this pretty cry like that.”
clark’s lip wiggles as if on queue, still chuckling through another little sob wrecking through him while he scrambles to wipe an incoming tear.
“no, no baby, let it out. don’t hold any of it in anymore.”
and with that, clark lets the floodgates open.
he cries again, less soft and quiet as his meltdown outside. this one is thundering, takes over his whole being while his head closes in on her touch while she shushes him and hugs him to her, kissing his wet cheeks while he lets everything else he’s held in come to the forefront.
she hands him a tissue after a minute, letting him blow his nose and drain his mucus, balling up the tissue into his fist to not dirty her side table with any of his germs even if they were bunched up in a napkin.
“does that feel a little better? drink your milk, baby. don’t forget about it.”
he nods and stutters to grab the glass and chug, finishing most of it in one foul swoop before wiping the corners of his lips for stray drips.
she gently fusses with his hair, brushing it in different directions so he never misses out on any physical contact. her leg even crosses over his lap, cooing in his ear that he’s never gonna be alone, not ever again.
clark curls in on her, looking smaller than he ever has even with his frame and build. he lets out hurried little boyish uh-huh’s when she repeats to him over and over, you are safe. and you are not alone.
when he’s floating in a post-cry haze, eyes so swollen he feels like he could’ve gotten punched, a name falls from his lips without his upstairs brain’s full knowledge like it was instinctual.
“mommy…”
the pets never stop. not a single inch of her body reacts, no limb even moving to push him off of her bed. if anything she gets even closer, if that was even possible.
while he nuzzles his nose into her neck, she caresses his back and hums. not giving any indication that he’s said anything out of line.
so he surrenders and says it yet again.
“mommy, mommy I need you so much,” clark whimpers. tries to hold in more of the seemingly endless supply of pathetic tears he’s held back and bottled up for far too long, all his jumbled emotions coming in a whirlwind at the first feeling of someone touching him, someone seeing him and his pain and not running away or letting him go to bed scared and alone.
“you’ve got me. I know. and you’ve got me,” she affirms. kisses the top of his head, never stopping the circles on his back. “you’ve got mommy.”
clark’s tone is hopeful when he looks up at her face to read her as best he can in the dim light, leaning in to her as she cups his cheek.
“I… I do?”
“of course you do. mommy’s right here.”
. . .
this had become a nightly ritual.
a strict, no nonsense break of their curated routine. if clark had a troublesome day and marched up to his room after work, she let him sit it out alone for no more than twenty minutes before she was knocking on his door, crawling on his lap, asking him to let it all out for mommy once again.
if clark had a good day, he would tell her about it too. how he didn’t get any bad feedback by his supervisor on his report, how he got to pet one of the stray cats in their neighborhood that were notorious for running away at the sight of any people.
she praised him when he needed it, smothered him when he needed it. held him too of course whenever he looked hungry for her affection.
she mothered him in a way that made him feel a way he truly hadn’t felt before, and that alone brought up another string of anxieties. about not being enough, about being too much. too needy. too much of a little boy. too much of a momma’s boy.
there were even times she’d have to ring it out of him, what he was feeling. she could read every facial expression that passed over his face like the back of her hand. and it was always taken in a stride. she tells him he’s silly for overthinking like that, but that it’s okay to tell her these things, and that he shouldn’t let thoughts like those start to even fester. because she’s all in.
after one particularly treacherous nightmare he wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and trying to self soothe with his blanket. in a fit of frustration he kicks off the comforter and of course, in turn, wakes her right up.
“baby boy,” she reaches up for him. knows what’s wrong from the second he stares up at the ceiling, stubborn with a frown stuck on his face. “is it too hot for you?”
clark breathes in deep, fights the thoughts in his head that tell him he’s a freak for needing so much love and so much attention, and leans in to kiss her right on the lips, whimpering in her mouth when she automatically reciprocates.
“mommy,” he smacks his lips against hers, smelling the natural scent coming off of her from her neck. “mommy please. please.”
“tell mommy what you need.”
“I need your kisses,” clark full on whines. doesn’t hold anything back, doesn’t minimize his needs. gives it to her straight. she’s never punished him for telling his truth before, and she wouldn’t start now.
“I wanna touch you, mommy,” he swallows. “can I please…”
his hand shakily trails down her side, feeling goosebumps make way on her skin. it makes him lick and bite his lips, leaning in for another warm, needy kiss that threatens to grow even deeper while he preciously tries to glide his tongue in her mouth and lick along hers.
“you can touch mommy. I know what you need.”
clark’s cock shamefully fills and rolls up against his belly at her words, aching for some stimulation as he trails more kisses from her face, to her jaw, to her neck. hands exploring lower than anywhere his hands have ever explored before. they drift down to her hip, to her waistband, to her stomach and breasts.
“take care of me so good, mommy, always…. I just wanna be a good boy to you. wanna be a good boy for you,” he hums. she beams from his complete one-eighty change in disposition, from his sulking, shivering ball of anxiety into this flourishing, outspoken, touchy boy that knows to voice what he needs.
“can I… I wanna—“
his words are cut off by an unabashed groan when her hand grabs his and stuffs it down her panties, letting his fingers feel the pearly skin of her naked pussy, no layers in between.
“momma you’re so soft,” he whispers. doesn’t let himself tighten his hand over her mound too hard, gently pressing his palm in and applying a slow, easy pressure. his fingers have already started to get a little wet, and that did things to him that he won’t ever be moving on from. “pussy’s so warm. feels so perfect, mommy.”
she grinds into his touch subtly, hips raising up in heated figure eights while he kisses her and swallows up the moans she lets out too, mirroring his to a T.
“I need it. I need to.”
she doesn’t fight or protest anything as he ducks his head and crawled down the bed until his face was right between her open legs.
“take off mommy’s panties. go on, don’t have to be my shy boy. indulge yourself, baby.”
clark nods his head again, eager to follow orders when he pulls them down in a swift motion, dropping them to the floor off the edge of the bed. nothing could stop him from going in, from taking that last final step. he hums like he’s just found the most decadent meal to eat as he stuffs his face into her pussy, wiggling his tongue over her clit, gliding the flat of it down her lips and her hole. it weeps and clenches down and makes squelchy noises the more he sucks, and it’s so juicy and ripe that clark can feel his own dick pulsing even if he’s still completely untouched.
he moans and keeps scarfing down, sheepish voice muffled, only the words please and mommy able to be deciphered.
that tongue proves itself to become a dangerous addiction while she humps against his face, grinding her clit up to his nose while he fucks his tongue up to breach her g-spot and thrust it in and out like his face only existed at her leisure. it was rejuvenating, it was astonishing, how close to another human being he’s felt since he first cried in her arms and showed her sides of himself he never wanted to claim as his own. he hopes his tongue can do the talking, can tell her how much he appreciates her and hopes to give her as much as he takes.
she curses and slams her hips upwards when he curls his tongue so right, nudging her clit with the bridge of his nose with the right pressure and humming in a way that felt divine. clark continues his feast and stares up at her to watch her fall apart, to watch her feel good. her mouth is wide open and her eyes squeeze shut while her pussy walls quiver and gush against his mouth. it felt heavenly, like a religious experience to feel her cumming against his mouth. to get to suckle on her clit and watch his mommy lose it.
when he licks her clean she laughs and pulls his face away, too overstimulated to allow him to keep going. as he gives in despite wanting to stay right where he was, he switches gears to her inner thighs and lays the wettest kisses all over her, cum still smeared all over his lips and chin.
“you taste so good mommy. you fed me so well,” he mutters, licking her spend off his face with his outstretched tongue, leaning in to her hold on his pink cheeks.
“you all full? don’t wanna leave my baby boy hungry,” she whispers. plays with his hair again, one of his favorite forms of her attention and affection.
he closes his eyes and hums, says he’s all full now and ready to go back to sleep. doesn’t care that he ends up faceplanting right between her thighs, cheek laying directly on her naked pussy as he snoozed away with no night terrors getting in the way of his peaceful rest.
she was the antidote. to all his homesick worries, to all of his outside failures and personal interior failures, she was always there to put a lid on all of his troubles again whenever the lid flies off.
the habit became a habit because the high never seemed to wear off, soothing himself by getting his head between her thighs and kissing her pussy or licking her pussy until he was slowly falling asleep. he’s been out like a light with his airways nearly blocked by her crotch, nearly dead to the world in a deep sleep that he couldn’t ever have on his own.
the nightmares eased down the more he gave in to his desires, humping her leg and shamelessly screaming mommy when he cums. eating her out for a good hour at the very least every night so he feels high and buzzed off of pleasing her. taking care of her. thanking her.
“mommy, mommy you’re the best. you’re so beautiful. m’so lucky I have you.”
“I’m so lucky to have you, baby boy. and if you ever need to eat before bed, just eat. you need to be fed.”
so clark eats. he eats to think straight before work, he eats for a good several hours in bed after dark to feel the rush of her cum sticking to his lips. he lives to come home and make his mommy feel good, to make himself feel good. even eats to make himself feel safe again.
she never downplays the affect it has on him, the way it’s comforted him like never before. she knows it’s more than just a bedtime treat for him.
a couple nights in a row he even has her sit down on his face and ride, gladly licking up everything that drips out of her and having her cum against his nose at least three times before they both pass out, her legs still trapped over his face with her head shoved in the pillow.
after several months of their ritual he officially moves into her bedroom, hardly ever going into his old one unless he went for a new change of clothes, still preferring to go straight back to their shared room to change.
once in a while in public he’s let it quietly slip, his little voice uttering a helpless mommy if he’s on the verge of a panic attack. she of course identifies when he needs her touch more than ever to ground him back to reality and step out of the anxieties that plagued his head. and sometimes, only sometimes does he end up dragging her to the nearest family restroom and make his mommy take off her panties so he can soothe himself with his mouth back on her clit to suck.
little sequel here
. . .
I got so carried away with him being sad and homesick and how lonely poor baby would feel, and how he needs a mom-like figure to worship and get love and attention from.
anyways let me know how this was I love a sub mommy kink clark so much and he has angst inside him I know it
clark vowing to be of free use…. no matter the time or day, whether he was sleeping, busy, eating, tired or wide awake, he lets you have free playtime whenever you pleased to mess with his dick, to pull and yank on it, drool on it, slide yourself on it. sometimes to test him and mess with him when he works from home you absolutely take advantage of his vow, having him whimpering in his swivel chair while he responds to emails while you spank his cock and fool around with it like you’re playing helicopter. he takes it all like a good, obedient boy, cumming when you want him to, getting hard when you demand him to. he’s completely at the mercy of his lady and his dick might as well have her name scrawled on it
it’s totally normal to wake up and immediately start rubbing yourself stupid and looking for icky porn, then cumming with your tongue out and tits bouncing with both holes stuffed before you even begin your day!
Description: Ovulation week means one thing: she thinks they’d have really good bed chem.
Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader
Warnings: shameless smut, size kink, big dick!uncut!clark yessss, oral (fem receiving), p in v, nipple play, he has a super sense of smell and really likes to use it
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: might make a part two
It was supposed to be an easy day.
Work, eat lunch, work some more, clock out, go home. Maybe eat dinner with your favorite boy if he wasn’t too busy saving the world.
But he always had to make it so hard.
“Hi, honey,” he murmured softly as he dropped a fresh mug of coffee on your desk. He still whispered his sweet words as if half the bullpen didn’t know you were together.
“Thank you,” you reply with a small smile up at him.
God, he was extra handsome today. Or maybe you were just ovulating. Maybe both.
Definitely both.
“I like this tie on you,” you note, fingers reaching up to play with the dark red fabric.
His cheeks went a little pink. “Someone very special got it for me, ya know?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He gulped, those dimples poking into his cheeks as he looked down at you like you’d hung the stars. You could swallow him whole.
“Can I come over tonight?”
You chuckle. “Yeah. I’d prefer if you did.”
He nodded again, just looking at you, taking in a deep breath. You took in how he let his eyes wander over you briefly. Maybe you weren’t the only one feeling it.
Two months, three weeks, and four days.
That’s how long since your first date, and how long you’d been waiting for him to make a move. He was so kind and chivalrous. To a fault. He’d kissed you. He told you about Superman, as if you hadn’t already figured that out. He’d slept in your bed and held your hand and made you breakfast. But he had yet to hold you down and make you forget your own name.
It was getting a little old.
You’d talked to Lois about it a few days ago over brunch.
It was a Sunday, french toast and mimosas between the two of you. The first Sunday of every month, in fact. It was a ritual. Time to decompress and talk to someone who would endlessly ‘yes, and’ you. In a healthy way.
“I am just so… fed up.”
“What? Why?” She laughed a little, sipping on her fourth mimosa of the afternoon.
You sighed. “Clark.”
“Yeah? What’s farm boy doing now? I thought you two were going well.”
“We are. Like… really well. He’s sweet and kind and perfect in almost every way.”
She raises a brow. “So what’s the problem?”
You fiddled with your fork, looking into your empty glass.
“I’m horny.”
She laughed outright.
“I’m serious!” you exclaimed. “He’s so polite. He kisses me and cuddles me, but every time I feel his hands on me I just want to grab them and shove them between my legs. Like what gives?! It’s been almost three months!”
“He’s just… polite. It’s probably some chivalry thing his parents instilled. You know him, all his Midwestern charm.”
“Well, I’d like some Midwestern dick.”
She snorted. “So tell him.”
“I can’t just tell him that.”
“Why not?”
“Lois. Be serious. He’d explode. If I look at him too lustfully his cheeks go bright red,” you reply with a short laugh. “I can’t exactly tell him to just pull out his cock.”
“Then… make him want to.”
“Make him?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Like… tease him a little. Make him want it.”
You pursed your lips. “That… might actually work. Breadcrumb him.”
“Yeah. Sexy breadcrumbs.”
You laughed. But she was right. So you did. Throughout the week, you’d been extra flirtatious. Trying to take it slow, not overwhelm him.
But a girl can only hold out so long. So you did the next best thing to a straight out proposition. A heavy suggestion.
You tug on his tie gently. “Maybe we can order takeout and stay in? It’s a Friday night, we can have a sleepover.”
He flushes even deeper, then nods quickly.
“Oh. Uh… y-yeah. Yes. Yeah, I’ll plan to stay overnight then?”
“You do that.”
“O-okay. Yes, ma’am,” he replies, voice a little shaky as he tries for a small smile.
Clark waddled back over to his desk, trying very hard to hide the fact that he now had a prominent bulge straining against the front of his slacks. He’d been trying to be good. He wanted to make sure she knew he liked her, not just that he wanted to… do other stuff. But he did really want to do other stuff.
It was hard. Mentally and physically.
Two months, three weeks, and four days.
That’s how long since your first date, and the first time he let himself jerk off to the thought of you. He didn’t mean to, honestly.
You just looked so pretty that night.
He made it back to his apartment, floating on cloud nine, and maybe, briefly, actually floating. He’d finally taken out the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and even got to give her a polite kiss at her front door. What felt less polite was the way she looked at him afterward. He had decided on a shower after he’d texted that he made it home safely, and that was mistake number one.
Mistake number two was letting himself reflect on that date.
He ended up thrusting his cock into his fists, pretending it was you. Your hands, your mouth, your… that finished him off. It also sent him on a downward spiral. He couldn’t stop himself from his hands wandering a few times a week with you on the brain. It really didn’t help when he’d smelled your arousal for the first time on your second date. He’d looked up at you on his knee while tying your shoelace that had come undone. He didn’t think it was a particularly sexy event. Clearly, according to his nose, you very much did. He wished you’d stop looking at him like you wanted to eat him whole. But… no. He actually didn’t.
You looked at him like that just now.
He settled into his desk chair, trying to distract himself the rest of the day. But your eyes and your hands and your mouth and body and everything was stuck on a loop in his brain.
Once the clock strikes five, you’re up, packing your things. You make a beeline for Clark’s desk, finding him doing the same with still-pink cheeks.
“Ready?”
“Huh?” He looks up with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Oh. Yes. Yeah, I’m just… I’m almost done.”
You wait until he’s finished, then walk home together. You only lived a few blocks away, a couple building past Clark’s apartment. Yours was smaller, less modern. But extremely cozy. You hang up your bag and keys, toeing off your shoes. Clark does the same, gripping onto the bag of Chinese takeout you’d picked up along the way.
“You get that article done?”
“Yeah. Yeah, Perry had me on a story about some big fundraiser event. Not the most thrilling news, but not every story can be a Superman exclusive,” he replies with a chuckle.
“Oh, yeah. Supes is real hard to get a hold of, huh?” You tease, taking the food from him to start plating it up for the both of you.
“Totally.” He laughs softly, trailing after you to watch you. “How’d you do with those edits? Working with interns can be a little…”
“Shitty?”
“I’d say more stressful, but…”
“But you’re too sweet to be honest.”
He smiles again, pushing his glasses up into his hair. Unfairly sexy. You glance away from him, swallowing.
“What?” he asks gently, his voice even deeper somehow.
“What?” You look back at him.
He raises a brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s like he was scientifically engineered in a lab to make you horny. You have to tear your eyes away again.
“You can’t look at me.”
“Yes I can. I’m just… busy.”
Clark pouts a little. Then, he decides to be a little bolder. It’s been long enough.
“Liar. I can smell you, you know?”
“My perfume is pretty—”
“No,” he interjects. “No, I mean… I can smell you. Like… your reactions. When you’re excited.”
You feel your face pale. “Pardon?”
“I just… it’s nice. You smell good.”
“Clark—”
“It’s kinda musky and sweet. A little bitter but not in a bad way.”
“Clark!”
“Sorry,” he huffs a small laugh, chewing his lip for a moment. He can tell you’re embarrassed, but he can’t manage to feel bad about it. “It’s hot.”
“Are you trying to make me implode?” You frown, looking at him and ignoring the pulsing between your legs.
“I’m trying to express that I’m… That it’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
You raise a brow. “Whenever I’m ready?”
“Y-yeah?”
“I’ve been ready since our first date.”
He swallows. “Oh.”
You just stare at him for a minute, then hand over his food and a fork.
“Here. This is like half of the container so when you’re ready for more it’ll be out here—"
He engulfs you before you could finish the sentence, his big arms tugging you into his chest. Before you can think to ask another question, his lips are on yours.
You’d kissed before, quite a few times now. But not like this. Not with intent.
You hum into his mouth, legs going a little shaky under you as his tongue prods at your lips, begging to be let in. You oblige his silent request, moaning properly when you feel him licking against the inside of your mouth. You try to keep up, hands tangling in his dark hair. You toss his glasses onto the counter haphazardly.
“Hey, careful,” he mumbles against your lips.
“Sorry. Bit distracted right now.”
He chuckles, his smile bright. You let your eyes flit down to his lips and over his face.
“You’re like… extra sexy.”
“Extra sexy?”
You nod. “I can’t stop staring at you today.”
“Oh. Well, you’re ovulating. Natural response,” he says with a shrug, trying to kiss you again.
“Whoa, what— excuse me?”
“Hm?” He kisses you again.
“Baby, Clark,” you huff, holding his face. “How do you even know that.”
“Told ya…” Another kiss. “I can smell you. Just about finished in my pants when I realized you were last month.”
“Oh my god.”
“Can’t stop thinking about you. Didn’t mean to make it a habit, but I can’t stop touching myself when I think about you. You’re the best bad habit I’ve ever had.”
You almost melt, but he slides his hands under your thighs before you can. You let him press his tongue back into your mouth as he pulls you up against him. You squirm in his arms, holding on tightly. He starts walking to the couch, but you lean back, shaking your head.
“Bedroom.”
“Bedroom?”
“More room for you.”
He smiles. “You’re sweet.”
“And you’re big. Let me take advantage of that,” you respond with an equal grin.
“You have no idea,” he mumbles under his breath.
He brings you to your bedroom, laying you down like you’re something especially precious. He climbs on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight as he kisses you again. You kiss him back, hands drifting down his neck and to the buttons of his dress shirt. You tug on the tie you’d gifted him first, pulling the dark red material from his neck. Then, onto the shirt. You slip the buttons out of place one by one until you’re able to push it off his shoulders. A guy shouldn’t look this sexy in a tank top undershirt, but you were certain Clark could manage to look sexy dressed up as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.
“C’mere,” he whispers softly, pulling your top off next. He sighs dreamily, his hands brushing over your bra-clad breasts. “So pretty. My girl.”
“It’s a beige t-shirt bra.”
“I don’t care. Still pretty,” he mutters, kissing down your neck and over your collarbones until he reaches your breasts.
He mouths over the pillowy flesh, one hand reaching to press into your right tit. He squeezes softly, experimentally, as he sucks a mark into the left side. You brush a hand through his hair, kissing his forehead.
He smiles against your skin, reaching under you to unclasp the bra. He fumbles a little, you suppose you can’t expect him to be perfect at everything. But he gets it. After a moment.
He whines softly in the back of his throat as he pulls the bra off of your body, mouth watering as he sees your breasts freed from the fabric. Your nipples pebble immediately from the cool air, and the arousal coursing through your body.
“Gosh, honey, you’re… geez,” he huffs, smiling again, though this time it’s a little more desperate.
He leans down, licking over one stiff nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into his touch, his hands drifting all over the bare skin, mouth paying special attention to each side. A graze of his teeth against one nipple has you gasping, body jerking against him.
“My baby…”
“Clark,” you moan softly. You try to pull the tank top off of his body. He leans up to help pull it off, though he jumps a little as your hands drift to the waistband of his pants. “Can I… please?”
“No,” he replies, voice soft and gentle.
You pout.
“Mm? Why not?”
“Wanna make it about you, baby,” he mutters, kissing down your sternum and stomach.
“Trust me, getting your cock in my mouth would please me.”
He groans, stilling with his lips just below your belly button. “Baby…”
“Please?”
He looks up at you through his lashes. “Later. Promise.”
You swallow, closing your eyes as he tugs on your pants. You could work with ‘later’. You let him strip you bare, eyes on his face as he drank you in, head to toe. The look on his face would be etched into your mind forever.
The first brush of his tongue against your sensitive slit was everything. You gasp, immediately reaching for any part of him you can hold onto as he holds your legs wide open, circling your clit with his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You squirm and writhe under his mouth, tempted to ask, but not really wanting to know, where on earth he learned to do that.
“Fuck, please. Right there,” you moan, torn between the overwhelming urge to let your eyes roll back and the need to see him settled between your legs. He just looks too pretty like this. “Right… r-right there. Yes.”
He smiles against you, his finger circling your hole before plunging in. He seems awfully self satisfied as you make a noise you were hardly sure even could come from your mouth. He slides another finger in with the first, crooking them just right as his mouth does the rest of the work.
He hums softly, the vibration of his voice adding yet another sensation to your already-overwhelmed senses. It only takes a few more seconds of you babbling before you’re all but squealing, soaking his hand and his face as you cum hard.
“So good, honey. Attagirl,” he mutters, still softly kissing you as he slides his fingers out.
He wastes no time in pulling his pants off, his hefty, uncut cock springing free from its confines. And you thought you were impressed with his mouth.
“Shit.”
He grins. “You said yourself I was big.”
“Yeah, but I was more meaning your arms. You’re… fuck. You’re just big everywhere.”
He shrugs, definitely a little smug. “Not that big.”
You roll your eyes, working to try and get him on his back.
“What’re you doin’, baby?” He questions, eyes heavy and lidded as you move to straddle his hips.
“What’s it look like?”
He swallows, hands skimming up your thighs and settling on your hips. “Looks like I’m very lucky.”
“You think so, huh?”
You smile down at him, glad to see him just as flustered as you feel. Even more so once you grip his cock, hard and throbbing and just begging for attention. He groans, hips jerking upward.
“You like that, huh?”
“I like everything you do,” he breathes out, your name slipping past his lips in pleasure.
You stroke him slowly a few times, enjoying how much he seems to unravel. Maybe this is why he didn’t want you sucking him off yet, he may not have survived that and everything else all at once. You wouldn’t complain.
You shift your hips up, teasing the head of his cock against your soaking center. His fingers grip your hips harder, sure to leave little bruises you’d admire in the morning. You lock your eyes on his face as you take him in, his thick head breaching you with a little effort. You each let out some awfully pathetic noises in unison, your hands immediately bracing against his chest. You sink down slowly, enjoying the feel of him filling you past your limits and the look in his eyes that make you feel like he’d combust any second.
It takes a moment before you’re fully settled against his pelvis, and you pause to give yourself a moment to adjust.
“Biggest fucking cock I’ve ever taken.”
He moans, trying to laugh. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. I agree.”
You chuckle breathlessly, beginning to experimentally move your hips. You grind against him first, getting used to the feeling of him in you. Then, after a bit, you raise up and sit back down. Hard.
He gasps, eyes rolling back. You repeat the movement, over and over, setting a pace you were certain you wouldn’t be able to keep up with for too long. But fuck if it didn’t feel like heaven.
He whimpers, eyes flitting between your face and your pussy gripping onto him like a vice. He becomes impatient very quickly, easily pushing you up and down at a quicker speed without breaking a sweat. You let him fuck you on his cock, pulling you on and off with ease. Your hands find purchase on his chest and stomach, and eventually behind you on his thighs. Clark liked that the best, the positioning jutting out your bouncing tits.
He sits up against the headboard, still helping you bounce on his dick, the squelching noises of your cunt suctioning him in and your moans the only sounds in the room. He leans in, sucking one perfect nipple into his mouth, face pressed into your chest as you moved on top of him.
Your hands tangled in his hair from this position, holding onto him like you were riding a bull.
He groaned, lips popping off your breast. “G-golly, angel, you’re… mm…”
“Y-yeah. Shit.”
“Hang on,” he breathed out, wrapping strong arms around your waist before flipping you onto your back.
The new angle he hit has you gasping for air, the tops of your thighs pressing against your chest as he bends you in half. He could also go in even harder and faster from here, groaning and whining himself as he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow.
“Good?” He looks down at you with parted lips and wide eyes.
“Fucking phenomenal. Don’t stop.”
He grins, smile bright despite his face fighting the contortion of pleasure. You hold onto his arms, his shoulders, his hair… anywhere you can get a grip as you draw closer and closer to your climax.
“Oh, I know, baby… I know…” he coos softly, kissing you gently. His hand slips down between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit to bring you closer to your edge. “You wanna cum?”
“Yes,” you gasp.
“It’s okay. Let go, honey.”
You groan, falling over that edge with a cry of his name. Your wrecked pussy clenches around his length, pulsing with the shocks of the orgasm. And he doesn’t fucking stop.
“Geez, you smell even better now,” he whispers, breathing in your release and your skin.
You whine, wriggling under his big body, overstimulated in the best way. He finally stops rubbing at your sensitive clit, hands on your shoulders to move you against him with each thrust. He whimpers, closer and closer by the second.
“W-where d’ya want me, angel?”
“Anywhere. I dunno, don’t care.”
He groans, suddenly pulling out, jerking himself a couple of times before he finishes. His cum shoots out, hot ropes covering your breasts. It doesn’t end until you’re staring at him, slack jawed and wide eyed. You’d never seen someone cum so much.
He breathes heavy, shaking a little as he finally lets himself go. “Gosh.”
“Baby…” You look up at him.
“Yeah?”
“You’re so fucking hot.”
He just smiles, taking a deep breath as his cock starts hardening again so soon. Goddamn Kryptonians. “Back atchya, honey.”
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