Trigger warnings - dubious consent, sex implied, dark ig? Could see it as noncon so coercion / forced, phone sex, multiple partners. Let me know if I missed any!
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No warning. There was no warning or leading up to this pure disrespect. The notification truly came out of the blue. Simon sending a low-quality video, the preview so dark that you can't tell what you're looking at.
The second the sound kicks in? Hearing his baby's pretty moans and gasps for another man? Fuck, when there's enough light to see your body? Karma must love playing with him when he sees not only Simon's hands. Other hands he has saved, that have saved him, the hands of men that were his everything on the field.
Everyone can see and hear how beautiful you are even when the camera doesn't show your tearful eyes or your fucked out expression. Cheeks burning with desire and humiliation.
His men don't give you any chance of hiding or escaping the pleasure they give you. Kyle's hands massaging your chest, Johnny peppering your thighs with bites. You were sat on Simon's lap, legs spread by his own as he leaves no room your wrists to writhe pressed between you too.
They're touching you in a way that seems so sweet but they refuse to let you cum. Who knows how long this is going on when this video is sent, continuing as they go on about what they'll make you do to "earn" what youneed.
Anger bubbles in the older man's chest, red, hot magma at his core. How could his boys do this? When did this start? With a face red from anger and embarrassment, he calls Simon's phone.
It's quickly answered with a curt "Sir."
It would be unnoticeable to anyone else, but John could hear how the blonde's breath hitched. That change in his usual breaths.
John, losing his grip on his patience, growls out a question dangerously. "Simon, What the actual fuck was that? Touching what's not yours again, eh? Don't think I don't know the boys are there too.
The line is quiet for a moment, only breaking with an all too familiar muffled whine.
"Bit off more than you could chew, didn't you, love?" The Captain releases a dark and breathy laugh. Even foggy through the speakers, it's clear he's seething.
John Price is not a man of short temper. Being in the military so long has thickened his resolve. All those buttons hidden away in dark corners within. But when they're found? In one way or another, you'll wish you had time to pray.
A quiet sob escapes you. It's not your fault! They started it, and now you just wanted to cum so badly. Can't he see how mean they are to you? John never took you all that seriously when you told him of how the boys act when he's not looking. The dirty looks, the barely audible promises of what they will do to you, their sneaky hands trying to touch you wherever they want.
You knew how important his men were to him, how highly he talks of them to everyone. If only he could see how they're really not these great guys everyone thinks they are.
Gaz doing this, as the perfect gentleman when others are around, no doubt causes surprise. He softly mutters and mumbles how long he's waited for this as he rolls your nipples between both pointers and thumbs. A soft and almost sheepish smile when he catches your gaze. His demeanor may seem shy to some, but that look in his eye? Truly a hidden dark desire.
Johnny has always been a dog around you. Sees a "wee Bon" and can't let them leave without a kiss. He's slobbering all over your thighs in enthusiasm at the moment. His eyes are absolutely blown with lust. Staring at you to catch every reaction when he hits a sensitive spot. Tears flood your lashes with another 'love' bite. The bruised muscle throbbing loudly.
Now, there Simon was, one arm heavy around your waist as you were sat in his lap to hold you there. There was no real chance of escaping this torture, his other hand a sharp hold on your neck, as too many hands roam your body. Simon was able to leave open-mouthed kisses and nipping once his mask was pushed up. If it was just a bit brighter in the room, everyone could see how flushed his skin is. It's like you must be in a sauna with the heat around you.
You beg, absolutely beg Price to believe that it's not your fault. Someone's fingers press heavily on your tongue as you try to plead your case. The cotton between your ears grows thicker as they try to push further back with a heavy gag from you. The reaction has you squirming against both Johnny's mouth and Simon's thighs.
The pounding in your chest covers every other sound in the room. It sounds like rustling around you, whispers as all the contact is taken away from you. Leaving you gasping and whining with the loss of attention.
It's suddenly too quiet in this stuffed room. With eyes so unfocused that you can't clearly see where the guys are, essentially leaving you blind to their plans.
John only scuffs at all the noise coming from the phone. "What a bunch of honorless brats, all of ya." A slow, dark rasp escapes his lips. "Can't believe you'd do this to me love. I'll make your little reminder even more tiresome, maybe that could make you think twice in the future.
There's the tender sound of shuffling, then the sharp timg of his keys. "15 minutes, better start trying to apologize." The call ends as you weep. The men tormenting you only tense slightly before dark laughter dance around you.
˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
If a post of actual writing wasn't surprising to you, it sure as hell was to me. Genuinely do NOT remember actually writing anything ever t h e past few years but I found the bare bones of this in my drafts. So yeah! Lemme know what you think! Who knows when this will happen again...
Hiii, just read your Clark Omegle fic loved it loved it loved it. I was wondering if you would be interested in doing an alternate version where she realises but just keeps going and they finish? Maybe she says his name as she goes over the edge and it makes him cum knowing she knows who he is the whole time.
your wish is my command…. thank you for the request and i hope you like it!!! Love always, mani
MDNI (18+)
Read first part!
Oh.
Oh.
Clark Kent was the body on your screen. The owner of that perfect dick. The one who liked just the exact same thing you did. The realization hit in delight, encouraging you to shove to fingers inside yourself and give him a better show. The wet sounds of your hand got obscener as you let yourself moan out, small, drawn-out whimpers taking over your mouth as you saw him move faster too.
You laid down better to let him see your breasts, gaining a groan that left in a delicious tone and overpowered the sound of his heavy cock slapping against his hand. His hips started moving along with his motions on himself, he was getting close and you could tell. You pulled the two fingers out and focused on making yourself cum, desperate harsh circles on your clit taking over.
“Fuck, Clark. I’m gonna cum for you.” You announced, letting him know you knew. This clearly worked on him, because he got desperate as he fucked himself on his hand and soon enough you could not only see the white spurs leaving from his red, thick mushroomed tip. You could hear it. Hear his whines of your name, hear how the cum landed all over himself. It was enough for you to finish too, your orgasm taking over from your toes to your head in a soothing, exciting wave.
He didn’t say anything as he looked at his screen, picking up his computer as if to look at you closer, the show taking place in front of his very eyes. Your hand finally stilled when you had ridden it out, letting him see how you squeezed your breasts still blissed out.
“You knew?”
“You did too.” You responded, Clark smiling that stupid, smug smile that he carried when someone complimented him or he caught the staple before it fell to the floor.
“You’re beautiful. Gosh, you always are but like this… makes me wanna say bad things. Do bad things.” You smiled and sat up, picking up your computer to look at him too.
“We live like 5 blocks apart.” You mentioned, eyes through the yellow hue of your room and the camera telling him the naughtiest things. Clark licked his lips, looking around the room.
“I’ll be there in 5. Keep touching yourself, keep her wet for me.” You smiled and slammed your laptop shut, quickly putting it to the side and straightening your sheets, standing to unlock the door without bothering to put anything on. You wouldn’t open it yet and hey, why create more barriers? You were clearly on the same page.
summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.
content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic
2k words whew
with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
.
on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.
starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.
that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.
and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.
every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.
after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.
then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.
it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!
the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.
clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.
he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-
in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.
noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.
he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.
you think you could ascend.
you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."
curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.
his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.
he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.
because clark has never looked this feral.
his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.
"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.
the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.
.
how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.
and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.
he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.
he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.
despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.
a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.
you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.
he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.
in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.
your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.
with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.
"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.
he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.
a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"
"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."
clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.
a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.
Content: Smut with plot. Protected PIV, realll heavy on the dirty talk. Pussy inspection (i hate that term but that was the inspo). Pussy pronouns. Both are on edge and obsessed.
A/N: Not too sure about this one!!! I mean, not sure about the writing but I like the plot. Couldn't bring myself to proofread. I read some real dirty things for research and googled a position and saw Bowser doing it??? Like I'm sorry the villian from Super Mario? On google images? It was insane. working on some more angsty pieces rn. Either way, thank you for taking the time to read my work. I really appreciate it. Love always, mani.
divider creds!
“I’m sorry the dinner was… a lot.” Clark mumbled as he opened the door to the restaurant and held it for you as you walked out, glancing back into the restaurant where the staff was still bickering and fighting. You giggled, shaking your head and took his hand as he offered it.
“Nah, it’s… dinner and a show. The food made up for it.” Clark chuckled, nodding as he took your word for it and let you guide him to wherever it was you wanted him. He’d let you guide him to the end of the earth. Clark’s crush on you had been mild until a week ago. He liked how you looked, how you worked, how you laughed, how you always measured the pages onto each other before stapling them together and how you had a small vacuum underneath your desk to collect any eraser crumbs and remains of food that hung around your desk. He thought someday soon he’d take the risk and ask you out. However, after Friday afternoon and seeing you in the place, he’d least expect you to be, something shifted. Seeing what he thought he would only get the privilege to see if he behaved really well on your fifth date. He wanted, no, needed more. Needed to discover more of you and see the full capacity of how dirty, how sweet, how good and bad you could be. Throughout the week, there was continued flirting at the office, texts and the long talks with both of you blushing in the copy room.
He wanted to behave. Even though he was horny, horny out of his goddamn mind just looking at you. Looking at you all day in a trench coat and Mary janes, glasses and perfect winged eyeliner like a model employee knowing your behaviour this week would kill someone in HR. It had probably made him absolutely crappy at his job because he could barely focus and Lois kept making snide comments making him think she knew but not sure enough to ask.
“So, wanna ask some more personal questions?” You said as you looked at him, cracking him out of his thoughts.
“Okay, yeah. So, what age did you get your period?” You laughed, pushing onto his side with an elbow that made him laugh too.
“You just lost one opportunity for trying to be funny.”
“You laughed. It was worth it.” You rolled your eyes at his smug smile.
“Ask away.”
“Okay. When was the last time you went on a date?” He sighed, looking down at you to see you looking down at your steps.
“Like… 4 months ago? Jimmy set me up. Did not work. Nothing in common. You?”
“Hmmm. Last Christmas. Mom set me up with a doctor.” You said, he gasped teasingly.
“And what happened?”
“Well first of all, he lives in Pittsburgh. And second, he talked about his coworker all the time. Think he already wanted someone.” Clark nodded, a slight smile on his lips. The air was colder than usual today and he hoped it didn’t cause any accident that would pull him away from this. From your steady hands and warm smile.
“And… when was the last time you hooked up with someone?”
“Oh, uhm, 4 months ago.”
“Same girl?”
“Same girl. We both agreed there was no chemistry afterwards, though.” You nodded, accepting his answer with no judgment.
“What about you?”
“Mmm. Maybe 3-4 weeks ago. There’s this dude, we sort of had something in college but nothing serious. But we see each other when he’s in town and yeah… it’s just like, a habit. Okay sex with someone you know.” Clark hummed, nodding and squeezing your hand.
“Favorite band?”
“The mighty crabjoys.”
“Oh… Jesus.”
“They’re good!”
“You’re lucky you’re pretty. That would have been a dealbreaker.” You teased, shaking your head with a disappointed look that made him laugh. You were finally at your apartment, you let go of his hand to dig into your purse and look for your keys. It was quiet, besides the jingling of keys and the noise from the street. But Clark’s heart was beating fast with anticipation, eyes trying to look away before he started to get hard at absolutely nothing. He couldn’t help it, he was obsessed.
“You… gonna stay there? Don’t wanna come in?” You asked and he looked back at you, standing in the hallway of your apartment and putting your purse on the table. He nodded, mouth open as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“You okay?” You said as you opened your trench coat and watched his fidgeting around the house, looking around like someone was watching him from the outside ready to call him a pervert. He sighed, looking at you and practically whimpering.
“Yes. I’m just… I really actually like you, I have for a while and I’m trying to be a gentleman-“
“I don’t want you to be a gentlemen. We have time for that. Right now, I want you to do whatever you want.” You stepped closer to him, one hand on his chest and the other gripping his tie, pulling on it slightly like you were so interested in it.
“Be what you said you’d be if you ever got the chance. Remember all those things you said? You have your chance now. Do them.” You barely got the last part out before Clark snapped, all restraint faded and he took you into his arms, pinning you down on onto the couch before settling on top of you. You giggled as you watched him kneel between your legs, taking off your glasses and placing them on the coffee table with care. His followed and you saw the slight change from the removal. His features somehow became less defined but sharper, he looked less human… more godly. It made your breath hitch even if he had already shown you.
“Gonna kiss you. Want that?” Clark took the opportunity to tease you now, matching your smirk when you nodded and felt him lean in, at first soft and exploring, his lips were softer and plumper than you thought they would be. Does this man scrub them or something?
You wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer, now fully making out with him in open mouths competing in who could eat the other first. It was a pretty close race. Your week had also been torture, Clark writing compliments on post its and leaving them underneath your notebook when you weren’t looking and lingering a hand on your waist when he passed by you like he was baiting you to jump his bones. You pulled away first, of course, Clark didn’t need air and he kept kissing down to your neck.
“Sweetheart, remember what I said?”
“Many things have been said.”
“Right. What I said about my strength?” You did. When the dirty talk faded on Saturday night, Clark told you he found himself sexually frustrated because he couldn’t let go without hurting someone. He could barely fit himself into most girls, he gripped too hard and moved to rough. You said you could handle the heat.
“Yeah.”
“I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
“I don’t mind.” You said quickly, trying not to sound desperate because honestly, you weren’t trying to get him to break you, but you wouldn’t break. Clark was stronger than he thought at controlling himself, at being gentle when he wanted. Clark smiled as he started unbuttoning your blouse, leaving a wet kiss as new skin exposed itself every time.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make sure we have a safe word. Because once I let loose, my restraints kind of fade.” His eyes flickered back to you as you had become suddenly warm at the face like you were afraid to think about Clark without restraints. He was such a tame guy, always soft and gentle, never taking up too much space. Seeing him come into his extraordinary body and existence was exciting you.
“Oh, okay. Yeah. Uhm, how about… coconut?” Clark huffed, laughing. “Sorry, I keep thinking about that coconut flan we had. It was so good.”
“It was, wasn’t it? Should’ve gotten another.” Clark admitted and you laughed, nodding. It was insane, you two did the “no, you have it” with the last bite for like 5 minutes before you took it into your spoon and hand fed it to him, he couldn’t say no. He finished unbuttoning your blouse and helped you shake it completely off, revealing your chest covered by a delicate white bralette. He gasped, like he never thought he’d be deserving of this image in front of him.
“Gosh, honey. Look at you. Thought you couldn’t get prettier.” Clark said as he passed his thumbs over your covered nipples, barely seeing the skin behind it but still obsessed with how the lace became tighter under your stiffening. He placed a single kiss in between them before getting your back up to take it off, one hand under you to unclasp.
“Take it off.” You said as you pulled onto the collar of his shirt and he nodded, fingers way too quick to be human as they unbuttoned it. He couldn’t stand keeping his hands off you for long. He let the shirt fall behind him, leaning back down to you and wrapping his mouth around your nipple, pulling a delighted gasp out of you.
“Do you- do you like them?” You asked as you breathed heavy, enjoying the wet feeling of his lips sucking your breast into his mouth and biting slightly. He looked up and let it fall from his lips with a pop.
“Of course, baby. They’re beautiful.”
“And you’re not just saying that?”
“What? No, I’m being honest. They’re so pretty.”
“Nipples aren’t too big?” Clark’s eyebrows crossed as if he was confused as to why you’d think that. He glanced back down and was met with the same delightful sight. They were perfect.
“No. Who said that?”
“Just- y’know… the guy I see sometimes. He once mentioned he hadn’t seen tits like that, that it was weird.” Clark huffed, shaking his head and going back down to kiss the skin that was the object of your concern.
“He’s an idiot. You’re perfect.” Clark rejected the comment as whole, kissing back down your body when he got to you slacks, sleek black office pants that made your ass look phenomenal (you knew, that’s why you chose them) and he glanced up for permission before pulling the zipper down. You nodded once more and he smiled, a kiss right below your belly button before he pulled the zipper down, fabric falling apart to reveal the matching set you had on.
“Jesus… Trying to kill me, right?”
“Superman’s gonna die at the sight of some lace?” You teased and he rolled his eyes, standing back up and climbing off the couch, offering you his hand to pull you up. You led him to your room, perfectly tidy as you were expecting him here tonight. You were tidy either way, but today you spent a little longer dusting, spritzed a little extra linen spray, hid your stuffed bunny in your closet. Clark wasted no time undoing his belt, pulling the leather from his belt loops and leaving it on the floor, watching you follow his stride and drop your slacks on the floor. Clark grabbed onto your sides, kneeling in front of you as he looked right towards what he had been craving for a whole week. It felt like his whole life though. He inhaled deep, capturing the faint smell of arousal and simple human essence, sweat and fluids that reminded him of the complexity that he was so lucky to enjoy. It never got old to him, specially when it belong to his beautiful, sweet, exciting coworker he was dying to get a taste of.
“Smell so good. Gonna let me take a look? Make sure you’ve been taking care of her for me?” You whimpered basically, hearing his dirty talk in person, in that raspy, low, almost Superman voice was so much better. He used his thumbs to pull down the flimsy white underwear, slowly caressing your leg while his rugged knuckles grazed your skin until the fabric was on the floor, kicked away and forgotten. Clark pushed your thighs back onto the mattress and led them open for him, a hiss spilling out of his mouth as he looked at what had struck him so deeply that night. It was his second time doing it; he read an article on it on a web magazine and thought the consent and the mystique of it all sounded good. But then he saw you, he knew you. He knew your hands, your manicure, the tone of your skin. He had spent time imagining how you’d moan and it sounded just like he suspected. And it was so much better in real life.
“Hold your knees open for me.” He instructed and you followed, wrapping your hands just below the knee to keep your legs folded open for his enjoyment. He leaned closer, taking his thumbs to press your lips open and let him see glistening, lonely skin.
“So pretty, geez. She’s so meaty, honey. Look at those lips. Let me check, can I check? ” Clark was entranced, an inspection he never thought he’d do. Sure, he’d seen his fair share of naked woman. Maybe even more, can you blame him? He’s tall and kind, women fell at his feet. But this, this was new. It was consuming him, watering his mouth like it was all fresh. All for him.
“Check what?” You asked in a chuckle, watching Clark lick his lips as he massaged the fat that was covering your pussy.
“Every little detail you got here, I wanna see it all. Feel it all.” You threw your head back in a giggle, murmuring ‘sure’ like you didn’t know how to react at how he was acting. You don’t anyone had ever treated you like this. You were brand new, a gift and worth exploring.
“She’s getting so wet. Think she likes my attention, look at that pretty hole. I could just-“ He stops himself when he brings his thumb to press slightly against your entrance, barely dipping to feel how your walls clench against him, begging him to go in further. He pulls his thumb out and goes back to touching everywhere else he could, around the sides of your clit and massaging the skin on your vulva, taking a mental note of how he could feel your heartbeat there when he pressed hard enough.
“You’re teasing me.” You whined, legs falling down besides him when you got tired of holding them up.
“Not. Just looking at your pretty pussy. Touching it. I couldn’t through a screen, just had to imagine what it would be like to get you like this, all pliant.” Clark responded as he finally pushed his index finger inside, wiggling around until he was fully inside, using the fingertip to trace your insides with care.
“So, so pretty. Gosh. Your clit’s getting puffy, huh? You need more?” Clark glanced at you and you nodded, mouth open and heaving as he started to pet at your clit up and down, finding the angle that made you clench down on his digit. He knew you needed more, deserved more, but he was merely getting to know you up-close before his dick got so hard it broke his pants.
“Clark, please.” You begged, sitting up while still having your legs open so he could keep his slow, torturing movements.
“You sound so sweet when you want something. Remember when you first asked me to help you with an article. You batted those eyelashes at me and I nearly came. So beautiful. Beautiful everywhere.” He whispered the last part like it was for himself, a realization that he had always found you as enchanting. You bit your lip to avoid letting out the most pathetic moan at just words but Clark glanced at you and smirked, like he knew exactly what it had caused in you. He probably did, he could hear your heartbeat.
“Making a mess in my hand, see how wet you are? Pussy’s begging for me. What do you want, honey?” He asked while looking between your thighs, making you giggle a little as he talked to your pussy.
“Want you in me, Clark. Want to see your cock up close, feel it.” You said, baiting him as you brought one hand up to his face and forced him to look up at you.
“C’mon, show me. Wanna vet it before I let you fuck me.” Clark chuckled but you clearly convinced him, pulling his hand away from you and leaving you cold, as he took off his pants and let them drop to the floor, his underwear following and he groaned from the friction of the fabric moving against him when he was so painfully hard. You gulped and sat up right, pushing yourself to the edge to take a good look at him. How was he bigger in person? You were sure he was using some really big angles when he sent you videos and pictures of himself, because he looked too big and nice to be true. But fuck, it was true.
“Fuck, Kent. You’ve been hiding this from me all this time?” You teased and he laughed, watching you take him into your hand as rub at his tip.
“Could’ve just asked.”
“Sure, raised my hand in a meeting and said -‘Perry, excuse me, could Mr. Kent please show us his dick? For journalism purposes.’” Clark went red at the implication, placing one hand on your head and looking at you.
“Funny.”
“So they tell me. Come closer, cowboy.” You said as you spit on your other hand and wrapped it onto him as he took a final step closer, calfs against the edge of your bed.
“Gosh, it seems like he wants me too. Crying for it, look.” You teased as you saw a drop of precum fall from his tip, glancing up at him with a smirk while he looked at you and kept petting your head.
“Want you so bad, honey.” He responded and kept his mouth open when he saw you lean to take a lick of the liquid falling from him, so soft against his dick he barely felt it.
“Don’t- I won’t last.”
“I don’t care. You said you had great stamina, didn’t you?” Clark nodded because he had said that, promised to fuck you for hours. And he would, he kept his word, but he wanted to cum inside your wet walls.
“I just wanna be inside your pussy. C’mon, lay down.” You smiled, falling back into your bed as you saw him reach into his pant pocket and take out a condom. He placed it on himself fast, barely giving you time to watch before he kneeled between your thighs and lined you up against him.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
“Clark, right now it’s way too little.” He huffed, shaking his head at your constant baiting as he merely pushed his tip in, your smile fading into a shocked moan.
“Tell me if it’s too much, baby.” You nodded now, swallowed your words as he kept pushing in, his dick prodding into you in a way nothing else could have before. He let out the whiniest, sluttiest moan you’d heard in your life when you involuntarily clenched the second he got fully inside. Even with the barrier, you felt so warm and wet he was having a hard time moving. You could feel every ridge being filled, every vein on him pressing into you in a delicious manner.
“Oh, fuck.” Clark sighed out as he closed his eyes, focusing hard in not moving until you said you were ready. It was pretty hard, though. The edging from the last week and how divine you were had him hanging by a thread.
“Don’t curse, it’s scary.”
“Shut up.” He mumbled, leaning on his forearms to kiss your smug grin off your face. You could barely call this kissing though, it was basically breathing into each other’s mouth in awe with the occasional meeting of your lips.
“You can move.” You whispered, one hand brought up to his neck as you left one last peck and gave him the go ahead. He stayed stuck to you for a few more seconds, breathing you in before he lifted himself up back to his knees, grabbed onto your legs to push them over his shoulders and with a big groan, he started to move with deep, hard thrusts that filled the whole room. You gasped as if he was taking out the air from your lungs every time his hips met your ass.
“Tell me how you want it. I’m at your service”. Clark mewled as he looked at your face and tried to decipher if you liked the speed or needed more, needed less.
“Whatever is fine.” You whispered, pulling your hair out of your face as you watched him move. He was a vision. His hair was sweaty and falling on his forehead, chest clenching every time he pulled back as if it was begging him to stay inside. His hands gripped your thighs with care, even if they’d be bruised, you’d be happy to have this painting your skin for the days to come. His happy trail led to the meeting your bodies where the squelching was coming from, your wetness easing the stretch from his dick inside you.
“Don’t get all shy on me now. Cock got your head empty? Tell me.” Clark brought his thumb, the same one that had been teasing you, to pull on your lower lip and rest against your gums, like he was just checking what it looked like to have it inside your mouth.
“You- I told you to not hold back so much. Give me what you got.” Clark smirked, nodded and sped up his hips, cock bullying into you at a rougher speed. He was determined, not to have you take your words back but to prove to you he was a man of his word. He wasn’t fucking with you or talking you up just to have his way with you. Everything he’d said during the last week was real. You lifted your hips to meet him halfway, trying to fuck back into him even if his speed was unattainable and you’d have abs by the morning. It was perverse, the way he had you fucking back like you couldn’t possibly get enough of him and need him closer, deeper. You wanted him to interlace your lungs with his, get you two breathing the same air.
“Feel so good, baby. Just like I thought.”
“Thought about it a lot?” You were genuinely curious. How soon could this have happened?
“You really – golly, yes- didn’t notice?” You shook your head, watching him get a wicked grin as he rearranged your limbs, wrapping them around his waist and unlocking a new speed without fear of breaking your legs. He went in and out, cock pressing past every part of your insides with a perfect precision.
“Just like that- fuck, Clark. Right there.” You whined, head thrown back and your back arching off the bed when he grabbed your hips to angle you to perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust. He didn’t need more build up, more teasing. He wanted you limp and loud and drenched.
“That’s it- let go for me. Gonna get you there again and again.” Your body felt like it was transcending, everything turned into fulness and that pressure in your pelvis that was threatening to snap inside you and make you orgasm. Clark could tell, cock pulsing in anticipation at how pretty you’d look when you came, what noises you’d do and how your body would shake.
“Cum for me, make a mess on my cock. You know you want to. Claim me, I’m yours.” It was a direction apparently because he was yours and he wanted you to make a mess. That’d be easy, your orgasm clenching out and travelling through your body like it had always belonged there, to him. You moaned loud and high, your neighbors would file a complain but you couldn’t care less as Clark kept fucking you through it, pulling small gushes of wetness from your hole as he got to his high too. Your orgasm was dragged out as much as he could, looking at you squirm under his arms when you started gripping him like a vice, milking him like you wanted all his cum. He groaned in delight when he felt his balls draining finally, his movements becoming sloppy and desperate when he tested the condom for it’s actual use. He didn’t stop, fucked you through your orgasm like he couldn’t ever stop. His hands were holding you tighter, he was looking at you with even more hunger. He knew what it felt like to fuck you finally; his body knew what yours felt like. He wanted more.
A minute more and he finally pulled out, letting your legs down to rest from the rise of them and leaning down to kiss you, sweet and tender. It didn’t feel like the thank you men did after they came, like it was their responsibility to be a little loving after using you. Clark meant it, he meant every word of appreciation and affection. His mouth was warm and soft against yours, giving you back the air he sucked out.
“How do you want it?” Clark asked, assuring you he wasn’t done in the slightest. You smiled and pecked him one last time before pushing him off you and getting on all fours, back arching and inviting him in. Clark grabbed onto your ass cheeks tight, two firm slaps like he had been waiting to do it for some time. He had. You heard your phone ring in the living room, turning around and seeing Clark become a blur as he returned with it in his hands, handing it to you.
“Oh.” You whispered, looking at the contact’s name and seeing that he had already texted you before, a simple “you free tonight? In town.” Clark huffed, reading from your expression this was probably the man you saw at times and had ‘okay sex’ with.
“Don’t need him anymore. Tell him to you moved onto bigger, better things. Don’t need a dick who doesn’t like your tits, honey. I love them.” You laughed as he coaxed you up, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek, bringing one hand towards one breast and massaging it. You neglected the call and let him watch you delete the contact, a satisfied grin taking over his face. You could feel it against your cheek.
“Good girl.” He whispered, his free hand travelling between your legs to rub onto your puffy clit in reward. You shivered, nodding and melting onto his touch.
“You like that, huh? My good girl. Knows what she wants, she wants me playing with her pussy. ‘S okay, baby. I’ll give you everything.” Clark’s words were melting you into a puddle of need, you couldn’t get wetter and more pliable. He could do whatever he wanted with you and you’d thank him.
"No coconut?"
"Not even a fibre." He smiled, applying more pressure on your poor pussy that was getting you close embarrassingly fast.
“Want you, Clark.” You whined.
“That’s right. Knew it since you opened your legs on me in front of a computer. You needed me.” Clark teased, one last kiss before he pushed you back down and filled you back up. It was lonely outside you, and he still had so much to give. He’d send a fruit basket to the headquarters of Omegle later.
hehe hi!! i was thinking about clark kent x reader smut but they’re like anonymously masturbating through out a website like omegle! :3 bonus points if you can make them be like coworkers but they’re don’t know they’re *them* and so one of the two just founds out bc the other makes an specific noise or something like that !!! also i love how u write sososo much
Okayyyy i took long getting into this bc i didn’t know how to approach it and sorry it’s so short…. I hope you like it!! Thank you for the request! Love always, Mani.
Word count: 700+
Content: MDNI. What ms anon says!
It hadn’t been too many times you’d done this. It was crazy, you knew that. You felt that. But once scrolling through those websites with anonymous chats, just like when you were young with your friends, giggling like old times. Suddenly, someone had his whole dick out… it did something. You didn’t find it as disturbing as you should have. So, when your friends left you closed all your blinds and logged in again. And the first dick that was perturbing your vision, you stayed. Watched as the hand touching it moved up and down in slow manners, vein throbbing and the hips moving slowly to the rhythm that had been paced. You liked it.
It was something that got you going. You liked imagining the people behind it, knowing they didn’t know who you were and were just there to see your lower half to get themselves off. So after a stressful day at work, you got comfortable in your bed, angled the camera just right so only the apex of your thighs could be seen and logged into with that secret word that would get people that wanted the same thing as you.
It was taking some time, so you started yourself off with your fingers teasing up your slit. Your eyes popped open as the screen connected and showed you one of the nicest cocks the internet had presented. Not that you had seen millions or were too picky, but this, this Greek god, this is sculpture like. He was big and hard and veiny in all the right places. It was easy to get faster with your movements as you looked at his hand move up and down the girth size. You could hear shuffling to position himself better so he could see the computer, a small groan leaving the mouth of the men that was on your screen. The hand was just as pretty, looked strong and rugged and so familiarly fixed it reminded you of the man who shared your office desk.
You had harbored a stupid crush on Clark Kent you were too afraid to act on. It stayed hidden and sometimes exposed when you instinctively pulled away when your hands accidentally touched when handing you a pen or when he remembered your coffee order and smiled at you like he knew it meant something. Lois gave you a weird look whenever it happened and motioned you to talk to him. No way. What if he could know what you liked? What you did in the privacy of your room?
Your hand twitched in timing with his when he squeezed the tip slowly, as if pulsing himself to give a little more. To drain. You could whimper. It took you so little to get close, so close when a notification came from teams on your computer, making your hand shake away from yourself. What if the mystery person heard? Just as you grabbed the computer, the same teams notification rang from his side. Weird. Weird that it was just at the same time and that the man’s hand had the same thin red bracelet Clark wore and that as he moved you could see he had slacks on the same color Clark wore today and oh-
Oh.
Oh.
Your breath hitched and you shut the computer with a slam, heart beating at a million per hour at the realization. It was Clark. Clark Kent. The sweet, dorky desk neighbour that got you cake on your birthday and told you the red bracelet he sported was a gift from a friend (weird). He saw you getting yourself off, in all your glory with your fingers drawing mean circles on your clit. It was his dick. Beautiful and big and giving you the show of a lifetime. Oh.
Just as you thought about how you would react the next time you saw him, your phone pinged.
Clark Kent @ 9:32 pm
Could recognize you anywhere.
Was hoping you’d notice.
Wanna do that in person some time?
You went red as you put down the phone and slammed your back onto your bed, embarrassed and overwhelmed at the fact that he knew and he liked it.
Well, yes. Yes, you’d like to do that in person some time.
“Hey, hurricane! Why are you running?” You turned to see the source of the voice, Lois Lane following your steps as your Mary Jane’s clacked against the floor due to the speed of your steps. You were practically skipping from the newsroom.
“No! Crime waits for no one!” You responded as you opened the door into the supply closet and looked for the new box of pens Perry had asked you for. Well, he hadn’t asked you per say but you needed every opportunity to get away from the heavy air that was being shared between you and Clark.
“What crime? You’re a journalist, not CIA.” Lois frowned as she stepped in too and closed the door behind her.
“What’s up? Tell me.”
“Got my period.”
“We’re synced up, so no. What’s going on with you?” Lois placed one hand flat against you, cornering you into the space as she looked at you with worry.
“Something weird happened.”
“With Clark?”
“How’d you know?” You inquired.
“You two haven’t talked all day and he has dropped his notepad like 10 times. Too much even for him.” Lois was inquisitive (not to call her a gossip) with everyone in the news room. However, one of the reasons you kept your distance from Clark was because you knew her and Clark had something before you started working here. She mentioned it in passing once, like it was just some silly event and you didn’t ask about it. But Lois had made you feel so welcome and had become your best friend (your periods were absolutely synced up) so you knew it was off limits.
“Well? Did you two fuck?” Your eyes opened wide as you shook your head, choking in your own saliva for a second.
“No! I would never do that to you.”
“Do what to me?” She looked offended.
“Y’know, get with your ex.”
“Oh my god, we went on three dates and kissed once and it was so awkward. He’s too… vanilla,” Well, you doubted that, “By all means, get on that. But if you two didn’t fuck, then what?”
“We… it was online. Like all weekend.”
“You sexted.” Sure, you could call it that. Saturday and Sunday was full of picture sending and dirty talk that would make a priest get a heart attack. However, when you two saw each other this morning, it was like the realization that you’d seen each other in compromising positions and told each other everything you’d do to each other.
“Mhm.”
“Okay, so he’s interested. You’re interested. I’m not seeing the issue.”
“No issue. I just kind of… look at him and see him naked in my mind.” It was true, when he got here and placed his hand on the partition, you remembered seeing that same hand play with his dick for the last 3 days. It made you hot and sweaty. When he told Jimmy about his weekend and said ‘he didn’t do much’, you dropped your water bottle so hard it made the whole news room look at you.
“You dirty, dirty girl. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Lois wiggled her eyebrows and you sighed, pushing her away from you. You left the room as she followed hot on your heels with a small, knowing giggle.
“Shut up. I mean it. Don’t say anything to him, or anyone.” You raised your finger to her, looking back as you continued to talk and she gave you the smirkiest smirk anyone had ever uttered. She nodded and you turned around, head first into a tough, hard body. Of course.
“Woah, hey. Careful.” Clark said as he held your shoulders to hold you still. Lois continued walking away from you, as you looked up at Clark and tried to ignore the burning of his fingers on top of your skin. It felt too real.
“Sorry, she’s being… y’know… Lois.” You said and he laughed, nodding and letting his hands leave your shoulders.
“Can we talk? Come over here.” He asked and you gulped but nodded, following him into the secluded place at the end of the hall where you could talk without it being heard. Clark crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, looking down at you.
“So…”
“Nice to see you with clothes on.” You joked and he chuckled, face tinging red and you were relieved he was as awkward as you were.
“Yeah, uhm. I just wanted to say… I meant it. Everything.” He said and you shrunk your eyes, smiling as you tried not to feel how the hairs on your body were standing up and saluting him once more.
“Oh, yeah. Me too.” He smiled, licking his lips.
“So, can I take you out for dinner? Maybe Friday?” He sounded hopeful, but you didn’t want him to think you needed more than the promises of sex and touching that were made. You wanted it. Of course you did. But didn’t want him to feel the responsibility.
“Oh you don’t need to. We can just…”
“I want to. I want this to be real. Unless you don’t-“
“I do! I mean, yeah, I’d love to.” Clark nodded with a smirk, one hand coming to push the loose hair on your face behind your ear and lingering next to your cheek.
“Plus, we need calories before. Don’t want you passing out on me.” You basically let out a surprised gasp, you knew Clark was dirty, as shown over the last few days, but hearing it… it was something worse. Something carnal and shameless.
“Oh, okay.”
“You’re cute when you’re turned on.” He smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets, peering over at you with obvious affection. You swallowed and crossed your eyebrows.
“I’m not-“
“I can see it, you know? Hear it.” Oh, right. Clark had told you a couple weeks ago his big, big secret you almost forgot about. Superman was just some… celebrity for you before. You’d never seen him in action or been swayed by him in public. So when told you over Chinese food when you two were staying for a deadline and he needed to leave quick out the rooftop, you just nodded and smiled. He was Superman. Good. You didn’t realize it entailed that he wasn’t particularly human and had actual superpowers.
“I really like it. I gotta leave… something came up but, I’ll text you, okay?” Oh, more texts. Good. More temptation to try and make you break before Friday and just beg him to fuck you in the bathroom during lunch. You were a big girl, though. You could make it until Friday.
Getting ready to write the dirtiest smut I’ve done to date… see you next friday.
summary: clark returns home after a two week long mission off planet. what does he bring with him? a new, longer hair style and an undying need to please his girl.
word count: about 3.7k!
CWs: 18+ MDNI! this is literally just porn after the reuniting part at the beginning!, use of pet names, fem!reader x clark kent, oral (f!receiving), hair pulling (clark receiving!), some rough/frantic kisses, a little bit of dry humping, the suit stays ON!, premature ejaculation (bless his heart), two idiots very much in love, established relationship, general fluff and silliness, i think that's about it.
author's note: i saw these new set pics recently and went fucking berserk over the tighter suit and longer hair. god, i can't wait for man of tomorrow. also this is dedicated to @clarkscolumn (surprise!) bc the very first thing we focused on was his longer hair when i sent these pictures to her. i hope you enjoy, i love u forever and ever bestie <3
Everything in your hands clatters to the floor as soon as your eyes land on Clark. In some sort of cosmic joke, you've both just arrived home from work at the same time, just...in very different entrances. He opted for the balcony, while you just closed your front door.
You can't help but internally cringe at the contents of your bag spilling everywhere, but that's something for you to deal with tomorrow morning. When you're seeing Clark for the first time in two weeks, that mess doesn't really make much of an impression in your mind.
"Hey, stranger," Clark excitedly quips. He's already bounding over to you, cape billowing behind him with each quick step he takes in your direction. You match his fastidious pace; how could you not?
"Where have you been?" you breathe while you basically sprint toward him. Your arms extend just the right amount enough for him to crash into you and scoop you up into his hold. Then to spin you around while squeezing you so tightly that you think your spine might snap in half.
You welcome that, though. It's better than being here alone while he's off-planet and you're making yourself sick over whether or not he'll ever come home. You let yourself be engulfed in him, in his crushing hold, in this tight hug, because at least he's here.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers. He presses a kiss onto your temple, gentle and reverent, and you melt into him. Wrap your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you, to feel the press of his hard, familiar body against yours.
"The mission wasn't supposed to last that long. Everything that could have gone wrong ended up going wrong."
The sigh he pushes out against your temple is full of solace. Maybe a little guilt, as well, judging by the way he tightens his grip on your waist. He buries his face in your hair right after that.
Definitely a not-so-subtle way of inhaling your scent after he'd lost it for two weeks.
You pull back and shake your head.
"Doesn't matter. I'm so happy you're home," you confess through a breathy, relieved laugh.
Your hands, still tingling from the excitement of seeing him after so long, somehow manage to find their way up to his face. You brush your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks while your eyes reorient themselves with his beautiful features. Although he'd been gone for what felt like an eternity, you never forgot what he looked like.
Which proves a problem, because he doesn't look the same as when he left.
Clark leans in to kiss you, but you don't let him. You ignore your body when it screams at you to let him do it. You quickly press your hand over his mouth to hold him back, earning a confused little hum from your boyfriend. When his brow knits together, you bite back a laugh that very desperately wants to burst from your chest.
There's no doubt in your mind that he wants to kiss you even more than you want to kiss him, but that's not happening until you figure out what's new.
"What on Earth are you doing?" he mumbles against your palm.
"Shh. Hang on," you command, eyes still combing over his features. Your hands follow, fingers gently tracing over his soft, warm skin. He's got a little bit of stubble, which was to be expected. Apparently he had access to a mirror to shave with off-planet, though, because it's more of a five o'clock shadow than actual stubble.
You blink a few times. Your fingers trace over the sharp line of his jaw, and the straight, prominent bridge of his nose, and his high-set cheekbones, and his brow, and...anything on him that you can get your hands on.
"M'starting to feel like a lab experiment. Are you high?" he teases, words a little slurred because you're too busy poking and prodding at his cheeks. Laughs at you, too, giving you a glimpse at that beautiful smile you've missed so much. That smile that's the same as it was when he left.
So...his face is the same. What the hell?
"You're different."
His hold on you gets a little more firm. The easygoing, relaxed features you know so well tighten and morph into concern. A furrowed brow instead of a relaxed one. Widened, slightly scared eyes. Tensed shoulders, an even more tense jaw, and his lips quirking downward into a frown.
"Okay, now you're scaring me."
He sets you down in front of him to get a good look at the top of your head, to crane over you like he always does since he's so fucking big.
"Are you sure you're alright, honey? Did you hit your head or something while I was gone?"
He cradles the back of your head with one hand, clearly feeling for a bump or indent or anything that could explain your odd behavior. Then he leans in a little further to get an even closer look.
And that's when it hits you.
When he tilts to the left to look at where his fingers are basically mapping out and exploring your skull, your eyes fall on his hair, and everything starts to fall into place.
On the way that the curls atop of his head are longer. More defined. Water falling over his head and ever-so-slightly adding to that signature curl that always rests on his forehead.
Then your eyes travel down to the back of his head, at the way his hair is longer there, too. Long enough now that it curls at the nape of his neck, or to stick out and curl upward in the case of some of the thicker ones; a subtle difference, but enough to throw you off.
Enough to turn you on, too, because his hair has never been this long. How he managed to grow it this much over two weeks is beyond you; blame it on Kryptonian biology, maybe.
All you know is that you love it.
"It's your hair!" you squeal. "It's longer!"
"Oh, yeah," he says, face melting back into that general, lovey-dovey, gooey ease he usually has when he looks at you. He chuckles and releases your head, opting for reaching down and grabbing your hands instead.
"It's a little overgrown. I was gonna cut it when I got home."
You scoff. Why do men always cut their hair when it finally looks perfect?
"No, don't you dare! I'll break up with you if you do that!"
You get an eye roll from him for that one, but the way he's smiling down at you makes you think he's not all that upset.
"You think it looks good, huh?"
"It's so pretty, Clark," you purr. You must have laid that soft compliment on him much thicker than you thought you did. His cheeks turn pink, and he grins, and he looks down at your intertwined fingers to avoid turning any redder.
You break free of his hold to touch some of those longer curls, but your fingers stall at his suit's collar. It's different. A little shorter, maybe? The gap in the middle at his throat just a little wider? You aren't sure. Either way, you can see more skin. More of that beautiful, golden skin you dream about being pressed against yours at all hours of the day.
You lean back far enough to look at the rest of his suit, which is also slightly different. Still the same bright blue. Still the same gorgeous, flowing cape. But that symbol, the beacon of hope on the front of his chest is a little bigger. And the stretch of the fabric is a little tighter around his biceps. And those ridiculous trunks - the part that genuinely makes you salivate the most despite being so ridiculous - are a little higher up.
Fuck. He looks incredible.
"This...is this a new suit?"
He beams down at you. Steps back to do a quick little spin. You've never had a problem with a show-and-tell moment. Especially when he's showing himself off.
"You like it? It's not technically new, just...upgraded. Had to get Ma to fix the old one 'cause it was super beat up. She made a couple changes along the way."
He braces his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. Something that should make you laugh, but now that you can see just how well his not-so-new but definitely-new-at-the-same-time suit's clinging to his thighs, you can't speak.
So you swallow when you're done ogling him and your eyes meet again. It was much harder than you wanted it to be. He definitely heard it, and the way he visibly softens and drops his mouth open tells you he's about to ask if you're okay again.
You don't give him the chance to do it, though, because you're too busy pouncing on him. Jumping into his arms and smashing your lips against his. Clark groans at your suddenness, but he doesn't skip a fucking beat. He'd been waiting to kiss you, after all; makes sense that he'd reciprocate it so quickly.
The kiss is immediately hot. It's heavy and obscenely needy on both ends. Your teeth click together in the most deliciously painful way. Your tongues fight for purchase in each others' mouths. Your hands tangle in his thick, longer hair while his hands slide down to your ass, groping it about as roughly as he knows you can handle while he stumbles out of your living room and toward your bedroom instead.
Your dorky giant trips over his own feet a couple times. His cape doesn't really help, either. Gets caught up and tangled in his boots, makes his steps all wobbly before he kicks your bedroom door open and bounds for your bed. And yet, through all that stumbling and near-falling, he manages to keep you steady in his grasp.
The best part about being with Superman? You never have to worry about him dropping you.
Clark doesn't even break the kiss as he kneels on the edge of your bed and bends over to lay you down on it. You're the first one to break it, and it's only so that you can suck in a breath to prevent passing out.
Damn him and his ability to hold his breath for an hour.
"I've thought about this," Clark mutters, leaning down to kiss your jaw and neck about as frantically as possible, "every single second that I was gone."
You laugh and tilt your head back to give him more access to your skin.
"Ditto," is all you can muster as a response. Your head is swimming with lust and a tiny bit of oxygen deprivation, and he doesn't make it any better when he nips at the sensitive spot at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. His tongue laves over the new sore spot and pulls a moan out of you that you had no idea was nestled in your lungs.
When you unravel your legs from his waist, he settles between them. You have to hold back a whimper as soon as you feel the thick, warm hardness of his cock against your inner left thigh.
You whine, tugging on his hair to get him out of your neck while you tell him, "Kiss me. I haven't seen you in two weeks."
He obliges, but he does it in his own way. A smirk against your hammering pulse at the side of your neck. A few kisses in a trail toward your collarbones. A thin, hot line that he licks up the column of your throat.
"Anything for you, baby," he mumbles just before connecting your lips again. This kiss is slower than the last one, but so much messier. So much deeper. His tongue doesn't even need to slide over your bottom lip and beg for purchase in your mouth - you both went into it open mouthed and burning with need for each other.
You raise your hips to meet the stiff length of his cock. Even through all of your combined layers of clothing, the feeling of his hardness just hardly bumping against your clit is enough to make your walls flutter and clench.
Clark gently rolls his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from both of you. That was some very much-needed friction. It only exacerbates your need. Makes you burn. Makes you tighten your hold on his curls and pull on them again.
He groans and breaks the kiss, but his hips instinctively buck against yours. It takes all of your strength to not come from seeing the thin string of saliva keeping you connected.
Clark lets out a nervous little chuckle.
"This reunion celebration won't last long if you keep pulling my hair like that, honey."
In a playful act of defiance, you twirl some of his thick curls around your fingers and give them another tug. You smirk up at him when his hips buck again.
"You like having your hair pulled that bad, Clark?"
"I like it a normal amount, thank you very much," he sarcastically counters, but his eyes shift away from yours and he buries his face in your neck to attack it with kisses again. He's always been a bad liar.
"So if I do this," you pause to pull on his hair again - a little harder, a little quicker.
"You won't come in your cute trunks?"
Clark literally shudders. His hand falls to your left hip so he can pin you down on the mattress; it was just to get you off of him, to keep you from brushing against his cock again. Prevents him from blowing his load before you even get your hands on him.
"No, I won't." His voice went up about 10 octaves. You laugh at him and kiss his temple just before he can start moving down your chest.
With a flick of his wrist, the buttons on your work blouse are done for. They pop off of you and fling around your room, hitting the walls and clinking down onto the floor all over the place.
"I liked that shirt!" you squeak out. Your feeble little attempt at scolding him bounces right off of him, though.
"I'll buy you another one, honey. Don't worry about it."
Clark spreads your now destroyed shirt open and kneels between your legs so he can get a good look at you. All you can do is push yourself up on your elbows and watch his gaze slowly travel over your bare, heaving chest, your kiss-swollen lips, the soft, pinkish-red marks he'd left on your neck to claim you as his.
But he doesn't speak until he meets your eyes. When his lust for you gets swept aside, and he smiles so big that his dimples pop out. He reaches down to grab your hands. As your fingers intertwine with his, he lowers his voice to a whisper and confesses, "I missed you so much."
Clark's sweet, tender-hearted nature isn't something you're unfamiliar with. He's always got that big heart of his on his sleeve. Always displaying sincerity, and compassion, and kindness because he was raised that way. That's just the way he operates.
And yet there's something so special about when he's directing it at you. Something more genuine, something sweeter and kinder and more compassionate.
Because he loves you. Sure, he loves the people in Metropolis. He cares about them and their well-being.
But at the end of the day, he really, really loves you.
"I love you," he coos while his massive hands give your much smaller ones a tight squeeze.
See?
"I love you," you return without hesitation. You get a flash of that pretty grin from your dorky giant.
Then he leans down to kiss a trail down between your breasts, down your stomach, and toward your waist. He stops there. His hands, big and warm and gentle as ever despite the frantic need threatening to explode out of him, graze over the bottom of the skirt you wore to work. Thankfully, it isn't too tight.
Not like that'd be a problem. He'd just tear it off of you. But, seeing as he already tattered one piece of your clothing today...well, at least you get to salvage the skirt.
Clark pushes your skirt up until it's bunched around your hips. As soon as he gets a glimpse of what he's been missing for 14 long, long days, he lets out a shaky little sigh. His thumb gently glides over the wet patch in the middle of your panties, slow and exploratory and so fucking intoxicating that you're worried you might actually be drunk on him.
"Clark, don't," you cut yourself off with a pathetic whine as he presses down on your clit through your panties. One of your legs jolts and falls over his shoulder, the other still pressed down on the mattress because his big hand's claimed its spot on your thigh.
"Shit, don't tease!"
"I'm not teasing," he mutters. Starts rubbing soft circles on the sensitive little bundle of nerves, making you twitch and claw at the sheets beneath you just to keep it together.
"Just admiring you, sweetheart. Wish you could see how pretty you are when you're making a mess for me like this," he purrs, leaning forward to press a few soft kisses on your thigh. That five o'clock shadow burns your thighs. God, you missed that burn.
As he's marking up your thigh with soft bites that he suckles on to soothe your pain, that thumb slips away from your clit to push your panties to the side.
It all happens so fast. One second, he's torturing you through your panties, the next, he's dipping his head down to suck your clit into his mouth. You gasp and instinctively reach for him, one hand tangling in his hair while the other meets his where it rests on your thigh.
His longer hair is incredible, to say the least. It looks good. Fits him very well. Makes him look more mature even though he's already in his 30s.
Also, though? Fantastic to pull on while he's seated between your thighs and taking you to heaven. It keeps you grounded while he's moving down and dipping his tongue into your cunt. Plus, every time you yank on it, you get rewarded with a moan or grunt from him that shoots deep, gravelly vibrations straight up your core.
A particular gentle shake of his head while he's attempting to get his tongue deeper into you has you seeing stars. His nose gives your clit some much needed attention; enough attention, in fact, for you to whimper his name so loudly that it echoes within your room.
Also enough attention to get you to finish almost immediately.
You come so hard that your eyes might permanently be stuck rolled back in your head. While your body falls apart beneath him, the only thing keeping your soul from leaving it is that tight hold you've still got on his hair. You pull it a little harder as you're cresting over that wave that brings you to paradise, and while you're convulsing and trembling, he's letting out a rather loud moan of his own to match yours.
You come down a few moments later thanks to Clark's muttered sweet nothings and his gentle touches.
"Atta girl," he purrs through a few kisses he's pressing on your inner thighs. You keen. Then you blurt out a command to him, something telling him to get up off the floor so you can really get this party started.
"Um," he murmurs through an awkward laugh, "I think...maybe I'll just stay down here a little longer. If that's alright with you, of course."
That piques your interest. He does love to go down on you, but he's never turned down your begging for him to fuck you. You push yourself up on your elbows and take a good look at him.
At his widened eyes that keep darting away from you. At his bright red cheeks. At the way his chest is heaving much more than you'd expect it to be right now when he hasn't even really done anything.
You let out a weak giggle.
"What the hell are you talking about? You okay, Kent?"
"Yeah," he lies. A literal lie through his teeth. He pushed that little word out at you through a grin.
"Then come up here, weirdo," you tell him. "Sit against the headboard and let me repay you."
He presses his lips into a thin line. Swallows so thickly that you can see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. But, he's never been anything less than obedient, so he very reluctantly starts the process of doing as you say.
As soon as he pushes himself up from the floor where he was kneeling in front of you, you see what the problem is and why he wanted to stay down there a little longer. It's in the form of a relatively large wet patch on the front of his trunks.
No wonder he moaned so loudly when you yanked on his hair while you came.
It riddles you with guilt when you feel the giggle bubbling up and out of your mouth at his expense, but you couldn't hold it back if you tried.
"Clark, did you-"
"I don't wanna talk about it," he grumbles, cutting you off relatively effectively. You cover your mouth with one hand and gnaw on your bottom lip. That helps you hold in your laugh.
It passes a few seconds later.
You shake your head.
"We don't have to."
As he reaches up to release the latches that secure his cape to his shoulders, you clear your throat.
"So...you definitely like it more than a normal amount when I pull on your hair, huh?"
Clark tosses his head back to let out a loud groan. You fall into a fit of giggles, but he's not having any of it. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Enjoy it now, because I'm cutting it in the morning just to spite you."
I'm a creep and keeping the cuttings just to spite HIM!!! It's so cute when someone is so into something so much they can't help but cum from it DELICIOUSSSSS
A part two of [this] post where reader met ghost in a chatroom and didn't expect him to have such a massive dick...
"It won't fit!!" You hiss, trying to squirm but unable to with the weight of ghosts hand pinning your hip to the bed.
"C'mon, lovie, look at it. Not that bad." Ghost coos, pressing his cock to lie against your pelvis, fhe tip practically at your belly button. Oh shit. "Bit o' work, but..."
Ghost slips his other hand down to your entrance, three fingers easily pop inside and you still know it isn't enough. Not when his cock jerks lazily and drools precum over your skin.
Some deeper part of you really wants to know what it feels like, wants to feel him in your mouth, between your hands, on your skin, inside you.
"Mh. Good choice." Ghost hums in delight when you allow your thighs to fall open that last bit, nervous but determined. He rubs his tip in circles around your entrance just to make you nervous, laughs to himself as the embarrassed whine you let out before pressing in—
"Fuckin' hell—!" Ghost groans, doubles over and only catches himself from falling on you by bracing a forearm next to your head. You can feel the huff through the fabric of his balaclava "christ— fuckin' tight—"
"Holy shit– ghost, ghost— fuck—" you toss your head back with a high keen, whole body burning from the sudden fullness. You've never used anything but your fingers before and nothing could have prepared you for this.
You grind into him as best as you can both overstimulated and still asking for more, completely lost in just how good it is—
"Fuck– you're so big—" you feel your core tighten and are unable to do anything, back arching off the bed, pulling ghost into a kiss as your orgasm crashes over you.
Only after you've caught your breath you notice ghost shaking, and slowly realize that asshole is silently laughing at you–
"Not even halfway." He snorts, presses a kiss to your jaw then sits up, still inside you, to show his still-hard cock, only a third of the way in.
You just came and ghost is only a third in.
Somehow, this makes you equally excited and terrified for the rest of the night.
Imagine joining an online chatroom because you struggle meeting people in real life, but god do you want to lose your virginity, right?
Most of the men you meet aren't all that interesting, but there's this one guy...fucking hilarious, witty, a bit dry. His chat name might be "deadmeat" but by the pictures he sends it's anything but.
Deadmeat: thought of you again, bloody mess. Can't wait to have you.
The picture attached is his usual, hard cock covered in at least two previous loads, tip flushed pink and wanting. The calloused, tattooed hand it's cradled in is what drew you in initially. Most folk in the chat room were...well...gifted in size, and as fun as it is to imagine you can hardly manage two fingers on a good long day.
But this man? Perfect fit. About the width of his palm, fingers easily wrapping around. Not small by any means, but definitely not heart-stopping in a bad way.
You: just a few more days. Got the motel booked?
You make sure it's safe, of course you do. Swapping photos together in anticipation for the day.
Deadmeat, or ghost as he requested you call him now, is...a little different than you expected. Tall, for one, nearly brushing his head on the top of the doorframe when you nervously unlock the motel room.
You don't quite realize the breath of your mistake until you and ghost are half undressed in bed and you slip a hand under his waistband. You slide you hand along the soft hair at his base, wrap your hand over it and—
...no. no way.
The amusement on ghosts face as you frantically shove his pants down and pull out his dick is palpable. Holy shit, he's massive. You're a few centimeters shy of wrapping your hand around him, not to mention the length.
You swallow thickly, glance up at him.
The fucker has the audacity to chuckle, reaching down to wrap his impossibly large hands around his dick, give himself a few pumps "well? Everything you were expecting? Don't worry, i can make it fit."
Something about gaz having erectile dysfunction after his RTI training....
And it's embarrassing, right? He's not even thirty and has a difficult time getting it up, what kind of person would want to sleep with him? Much less date him?
But he just....can't. No amount of the hottest porn or vain attempts to pleasure himself go anywhere, and the doctors tell him it's purely psychological but if he goes to psyche for that then he's surely getting benched from the field.
So he just...ignores it. Even when he meets you.
You're the hottest thing he's ever met, and everyday gaz wakes up astounded that you actively chose to date him. You don't push him to perform in bed, though not for lack of desire for him if the sloppy make-outs and rough grinding in supply closets is anything to go by.
You just seem to know, and the thought of that stresses him out even more.
It's not until he confronts you, asks why you never pressure him for anything more than the hand and mouth he's willing to offer, that he calms down. Because you just shrug and say "we all have our things, kyle. Honestly you could just be in the same room as me and I could get off."
Then, you pause and narrow your eyes "...Is there something you want to try? To help you get off? Or something you miss?"
Which is how gaz ends up wearing a silicone 'sleeve' over his soft dick, one you had helped him pick out to most closely resemble what he looks like hard.
You're lying on your back for him, too excited to see the joy on his face at finally being able to fuck you properly to go for your usual face-down preference. The sleeve is textured enough he can vaguely get some stimulation, but he's more focused on changing his angle until he hits that spot that makes you tense and moan.
"Fuck, love, I've been dreaming about this since I met you," he confesses, eyes glued to the sleeve— no, his cock— thrusting into your entrance. Voice warm and thick with arousal.
He's soft the entire time, but that only means his stamina is as long as he can keep moving, fucking you into overstimulation because he's missed this so much. Sex like this is such an intimate act he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
Afterwards, when gaz snuggles up to you in bed, all his focus is on you. For once, he doesn't feel broken.
𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 → ❝ I wanna feel the rush, I wanna taste the crush, I wanna get you going. I wanna lay you down, I wanna string you out, I wanna make you mine. ❞
𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 → Inspired by Madison Beer's song, Make You Mine. Thank you for your patience, angels. This month has been crazy. Glitter & Violence is unlocking soon, as well as So Wet and Lights, Camera, Action! The Dead Dove route is currently being worked on and many more routes to come. I'm currently working on a flowchart for all of the choices and routes! Also thank you to whoever voted on the polls (tag list at the end, comment if you want to be added.)
♡ㅤ ⎙ㅤ ⌲
🖱️ 𝑪𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑼𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 🖱️
➢ You chose to be a good girl and continue the stream as you were told.
Smart choice.
Instead of making Ghostface jealous, you simply thanked Perverted Daddy’s generous donations, blowing him a kiss as you usually do for your special donors. It made your lovesick stalker’s hand twitch, and he nicked your soft chest with his blade. The sudden stinging pain earned a hiss from your pretty lips as blood trickled down your hard nipples.
“I'm sorry, baby doll, my hand slipped.” He lies. Always with the lies. Yet his voice was so tender and genuine, you almost believed him.
His filthy hands groped your chest, rubbing the stinging wound and forcing the blood to spill. He loved you in red. It was his favorite thing. He liked to watch the cherry red color ruin your pretty skin.
It stung. Yet you couldn't deny that the color indeed looks good on you. You almost couldn't blame him for wanting to watch you bleed all the time.
With each stinging touch, he spread the blood all over your tits as the viewers watched. He played with your cold nipples, watching them soften with your blood and the touch of his perverted hands.
➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM
[ ▸ 216.8k LIVE VIEWERS ]
LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED
♡ anonymous89 » this is so fucking hot
♡ jackripperfilms » finally some good content
♡ freakonaleash » [comment removed]
♡ choker&chains » oh wow
♡ cutieeesh» mmm this is so hot!
♡ messynymphe » I'm in love with this
♡ kylereddd » hope you do aftercare after this
♡ maryjanee» hi again!
♡ perverteddaddy » sweet angel.
He embraced you softly, “You're such a good girl.”
Thump, thump, thump.
You loved his praise..
“My sweet, sweet girl. Always listening so well.”
It was so intoxicating—you were starting to forget everything else. His hands roamed around your body, continuing to grope your bloody tits while he kept hungrily pulling your ass against his hard bulge beneath his robe.
The way he called you his good girl and touched you made your heart thump faster than the blade kissing your flesh. It also made you arch your back a little, pressing against his body more and more. You were a pathetic wet mess.
“Please, baby,” you whined needily, “I need you.”
Your whimpers and pleas made him weak in the knees for you. It drove him insane. It was so easy to make him sick with love for you.
His possessive grip on you became firmer, the ghostface mask tilting slowly as he looked at you. If only you could see behind the mask. His eyes were filled with lust.
“You need me to do what? Use your words, please.” He said in such a sweet voice, it made you sooo wet.
“I need you to fuck me, please—”, you whined softly, “I don't wanna read the donations anymore. I want you to fuck me, please, please.”
He gripped you tighter, his hands trembling with the need to fuck you in front of thousands. Your pathetic whimpers and begging made his cock ache; he didn't know you could be this eager for him. It was driving him insane. He needed you badly, too, but he had this night planned already.
He moved closer to your ear, “Just a little longer, baby, I promise, you'll get what you want soon.”
You whined once more, “Please, sir,” you pressed your ass against his throbbing bulge, “I know you want to.”
You could hear a dark chuckle under the mask, and his grip on you became tighter. “Of course I want to, doll.”
“I want to do so many bad things to you, things you won't be able to handle. We all want things, but I'm afraid we can't have what we want.”
His threat made a puddle between your trembling legs. You whined once more, but before you could beg again, he forced your head to turn back and gripped his hand on your throat tighter.
The feeling of not being able to breathe feels so good to you—it's terrifying, but it feels intoxicating. Nobody talks about how easy it is to die, not knowing if this is going to be your last breath, and knowing that you're putting all of your trust and life into this strange man's hands. It deeply terrified you.
But it felt so good. It's a high you won't ever forget. The feeling of your eyes slowly losing the will to stay open, your mouth trying desperately to get air. Your body began to shut down, and it's crazy how easy it is to let it happen, sinking into your chair and letting your lovesick stalker's hands take away every breath you possess.
He didn't want you gone just yet; he just needed you to listen and stay still. His mask kept staring at you uncannily. Your vision started to blur, and his mask was distorted. You reach out to him, your hand trembling as you tug on his robe.
Your fingers tried to find their way to his bulge. Even when you were being choked, you wanted nothing more than his cock. It only made him harder.
“Fucking hell,” he whispers, “you're so needy today.”
Usually that would be a good thing, but he was feeling a bit unstable today, more than usual. His feelings for you just kept getting stronger and stronger.
Thump, thump, thump.
He knew if you kept begging and whining to be fucked, he would have lost it. He wouldn't have been able to stop.
Suddenly, he let go of your throat, letting you catch your breath. He tapped on your hip, signaling you to keep going for your devoted fans. So you listened, being a good girl and reading the chat and donations once more.
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[ ▸ 233.2k LIVE VIEWERS ]
LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED
♡ killiancsv » choke her again
♡ angelicwhore » she's so pretty when she can't breathe
♡ sukicutie » gained a new fan
♡ heavenlyy_22 » please do more knife play!
♡ dommommy » be careful
You continue to read multiple donations as Ghostface teases your body with his knife. You had gained so many new fans, and the donations kept spilling in.
♡── sukicutie Has Sent a $100 Donation──♡
╰┈➤ You're so pretty, and I love this Ghostface roleplay you're doing! I hope you keep doing it.
A little smile formed on your face, “Thank you for the generous donation, sukicutie! I love this Ghostface roleplay just as much as you.”
His gloved hand on your bare hip grew more possessive with your comment. “You're doing well, keep going,” he leaned over, “if you keep it up, I'll give you a special reward.”
The idea of a special reward made you even more motivated to keep being good for him. You turned your head back to the screen and continued to read another donation.
♡── heavenlyy_22 Has Sent a $150 Donation──♡
╰┈➤ loving the stream! You gained a new fan <3
You had gained so many new fans that it was getting overwhelming. “Ahhh, a new fan? Thank you for becoming a part of my lovely world, and thank you for your lovely donation, heavenly. I'm glad you're loving the stream.”
Ghostface traced the knife down your hips, slightly cutting you and earning a whimper from your lips. He loved the noises you made when you were in pain.
You winced at the stinging pain and felt the blood dripping, trickling down your bruised thighs. It looked so beautiful to him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloody sight. He just wanted to keep spilling.
You noticed he was stuck in a trance, and the blood triggered him. He wanted to see your insides; he wanted to take your heart.
“Mr. Ghostface?” You called out to him, hoping to snap him out of his trance, “Are you okay—”, suddenly he pulled you out of the chair roughly, a little too roughly. He embraced you feverishly, holding you tight so you couldn't escape. So many perverted and sick thoughts were rushing through his head. You needed to calm him down. His tightened grip on the handle frightened you, and his mask just kept staring at your soft, trembling flesh.
To snap him out of it, you softly pushed him into your chair and straddled him. For a moment, he looked at you in confusion, not knowing what to do. But your face calmed him down.
His knife was still at your side, but you felt confident enough to grind on his bulge beneath his robe. His other hand joined your bloody hips to hold you.
“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbled beneath his mask. You could hear him struggling to say anything, yet you could hear his little whimpers and groans; they were so soft and cute. You wanted to hear them more.
You started to grind on him more sensually, slowly letting your sticky cunt stain his robe. He was so wet because of you. His tip was sticky with his precum, aching and twitching beneath your wet lips.
"Mine." He muttered as he gripped you tight.
It made your heart fluttered.
He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. His tight grip on the knife is weak, but it's still there. You continue to grind on his bulge, leaning forward and arching your back.
Your body is pressed up against his chest, and your face and his mask are almost kissing. If only you could take off the mask. You wanted desperately to see who was behind it. You wanted to kiss his lips and look into his eyes as you rode his cock.
He knew you wanted it badly. So in a moment of weakness, he lifted the mask just enough to reveal his lips and laid them on yours.
You were so happy. His lips were so soft that you passionately returned his special kiss. As you kissed him, you could not stop bouncing on his hardened member, your sticky folds completely drenching his robe.
He wanted to be inside of you already. While you returned his sweet kisses, you could feel his hands tugging his robe beneath you, and pulling out his dripping cock.
It looked so pretty and pink.
Without wasting time, he aligned it with your wet cunt and slammed it into you, stretching your little hole until it was in the shape of him. Fuck, it felt so good as he plunged his cock into you over and over again.
The sound of his cock repeatedly forcing its way into your hole filled the room; it was so loud, you were scared of someone making a complaint.
You could feel him pathetically melting right beneath you, his grip on the knife barely present anymore. All he could think about was you and how good your insides felt.
He was already so close.
With each slow and sensual kiss, his thrusts became more rapid and violent. His voice and moans were shaky, even more shaky than yours. He was cute like this. Then suddenly, thick ropes of hot, sticky cum spilled from his cock and erupted into your hole.
Yet, even as he came deep inside of you, he wanted to keep going. He gripped your plump ass and slammed into you over and over again as your viewers watched. You could feel your legs trembling with each thrust, your boy started to ache, and you felt too weak to keep going. His hands roamed all over your sweaty body, and he couldn't stop tasting your lips.
“You're perfect. Too perfect.” He mumbled beneath his breath.
He gripped your ass harder and kept thrusting. “I don't want to stop, doll,” he said as he kissed you more feverishly, “I just want to make you mine.”
“Mhmm.. Sir—Please slow down,” you whimpered, but he wouldn't stop, he just kept thrusting, watching the way his filth spilled from your wet cunt.
You didn't know what to do, so you whispered your safeword as softly as you could. Surprisingly, it snapped him out of his lovesick trance. He slowed down yet kept slowly bucking his hips into you. It was so hot to watch him still chase his pleasure while not wanting to hurt you too much. You were happy he kept his promise.
“I'm sorry, babydoll.” He cooed, “Did I go too far?”
He sounded so genuine and concerned, it put a smile on your face. “I'm okay, don't worry. It was starting to get a little bit too much for me.” You answered honestly.
He hummed and looked towards the stream, wanting to end it already. The room was filled with the exhausted gasps for air as you both tried to catch your breath. He pulled you into one last kiss, one that was gentler.
“You did such a good job today, sweetheart.” His praise made you weak. He cupped your sweaty cheek and smiled. It was your first time seeing his smile. It made your heart flutter.
It was such a loving and sweet smile. It was something you wanted to see more. You pulled him into another kiss, “Thank you, baby.”
They act so innocent in public and around work, always so respectful and kind. Nobody would ever suspect them of being closeted freaks, but they're absolutely nasty behind closed doors. Especially towards you.
I just know deep in my heart that Clark Kent has a high libido, and I know Lois Lane absolutely matches his freak. He spent up to a month looking for ways to soundproof their apartment.
Yeah, he soundproofed their apartment. It's that bad.
They're both switches.
Lois leans toward dominance. Mhm. That's right. I'm not afraid to say it. Her ass definitely pegs Clark.
Clark doesn't care. He's the definition of a partner who gives instead of takes. He focuses more on making sure his partner feels good than on whether he dominates or submits. Either way, you're not going to walk after a night with him.
As for Reader, you mostly lean toward submissive, but every once in a while won't mind dominating. It depends.
I'm a firm believer that Lois consumes fanfiction. Whether she writes, reads, or does both. (Probably both) Look at her and tell me she wouldn't read Superbat fanfiction and relay all of it back to Clark. That's right. You can't. They definitely experiment a lot in the bedroom: scenarios, toys, positions, all for the sake of research.
Clark definitely uses his super hearing to listen to you masturbate.
There, I said it.
He feels so guilty about it, too. It's just that you sound so pretty, and he already listens in on you to make sure you're safe. How could you expect him to stop? Half the time you're either moaning his or Lois's name, so really, would you even mind?
Often, Lois jerks him off while he listens to you. She forces him to narrate what you're doing because she loves listening to him whimper about all the ways you're moaning their names while pleasuring yourself.
Imagine one night, Lois gets you to open up to her about your kinks and experiences. The whole time you're talking, she's just imagining all the ways she's gonna ruin you. Her panties are soaked through by the time she gets home to Clark, and he's more than eager to get on his knees and clean up her mess while she tells him alllll about your little conversation with her.
Lois totally snatches a pair of your panties. Used. Clark scolds her about it, but later when she's pressing the fabric to his face while she rides him, he certainly does not mind.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, clark is a liiiitle mean, orgasm denying, a bit of cockwarming, stern talk from clark kent heh, unprotected p in v sex, creampie. wc: 1090.
Daily Freaks masterlist | masterlist
You’ve been rereading this section of the book for god knows how long.
You were in Clark’s apartment, which was practically yours now, as usual, sitting on his bed after you took it over for yourself. With your laptop on your lap, a textbook in your hand, and flashcards and more notes surrounding you.
Not to mention the endless number of coffee cups your boyfriend had made tonight, highlighters once propped beside you now scattered on the ground, and how you were wrapped in one of his thick hoodies to keep you warm.
You were stressed. It was only days till your final project’s deadline, and you were stuck because of the burnout, the one Clark has been nagging you about.
A growl then ripped out from your throat as you shoved your book away, throwing your head back against the pillows. “Fuck this. My brain’s a mush at this point. I can’t do this anymore.”
Clark glanced at you then, but he didn’t make any comment. Not yet, at least.
Your thoughts began rambling, running to the point of breaking down. Maybe it’s because of the lack of food you consumed, or maybe the lack of rest, but what you know is that you needed all the thoughts to be gone.
And what better way than to have Clark fuck you senseless?
You look up at him, eyes all hazy from the stress and need just from thinking about his thick cock plunging into you.
“Clark, baby?” you asked sweetly.
He only hummed in response, still annoyingly so focused on his papers.
You frowned unknowingly. “Can you help me?”
His attention finally shifted, turning back to look at you. “You finally gonna sleep now?”
You huffed in protest, of course he was in on this again. “I told you I’m not tired, Clark–”
“Yet you keep whining and crying all day, baby,” his tone more stern than usual, the veins on his neck bulging just like they always did when his patience was wearing thin.
“I told you I need to finish this soon!” Your brows knitted in protest, the stress now fueling your annoyance at him.
“Well, not by making yourself miserable…” he let out a quiet sigh, knowing that he can’t do anything when you’ve made up your mind. So he decided to be a reliable boyfriend instead.
“What do you need help with, sweetheart?” his tone was so much softer now, his attention fully on you as he stood up from his desk towards the bed, instinctively tidying up your mess along the way.
“Will you make it all go away, please?” You looked up at him as he towered over you from the edge of the bed. Your hands trailing down from his chest to his stomach and lower, making him let out a shaky breath while his muscles twitch.
“Now you want me, huh?” his fingers trailed your jaw, tipping your chin up. “You’ve been ignoring my warnings all day, so here’s something. You have to earn it today, baby.”
The next thing you know, you were perched on his lap. His hard cock slapping against your thighs, his pre making his tip glisten so deliciously.
Your pants were gone, panties bunched up to the side as he teased your folds in a way that made you tremble on top of him.
“You have to promise me to take care of yourself, or you won’t come. Okay?” he whispered the words into your ears.
“But Clark, I can’t–” before you gasped as he lifted you easily, guiding you down on his cock so agonizingly slow. His tip entering you, stretching you split wide open inch by inch, till you could feel all of his veins along your walls.
“No moving. You’ve been denying me, so now I’m denying you,” his tone sharp, like a warning.
“Please– please, Clark…” you whimpered, cunt fluttering as you try your hardest not to move, or he won’t let you reach your climax after all.
Your breaths deepened, insides burning, clit throbbing from being so close yet so far.
He began lecturing you. On how you should take more care of yourself, how you should stop skipping meals and drink more water, and how you should take more breaks so you won’t be in this situation again.
But you can’t think anymore.
He tutted then, hand finding your cheeks as he cupped them. “Listen. Be a good girl and repeat what I said.”
You nodded, trying your best to recollect the things he had told you all night. “Hahh– no skipping meals, drink water—Clark please!”
“I said no. Repeat what I told you,” he squeezed your cheeks harder.
And your cunt can’t help but have a mind on its own. You always find it hot when Clark use that serious tone on you, as rare as it is—so your walls kept contracting, making you produce more and more of your slickness that was now seeping outside and dripping onto his base.
Now his own control was weakening with every pulse of your hole. You can hear how his breath kept hitching with every beat, how his hips buck just the slightest, you almost can’t tell.
The both of you were so close, so you decided to just comply.
“Okay fine– I promise to stop after this,” you whimpered. “I’ll eat and drink more water Clark, I promise.”
He let out a sigh, before his demeanor changed. He kissed your cheek, your jaw. “Good girl. Now let me make you feel good, yeah?”
You then let out a quiet cry as he began bouncing you up and down his cock, moaning louder as his fingers began to make tight circles around your clit.
All the while, he kept praising you in your ears, kissing you with every word.
It was quick. You felt the orgasm tipping from every thrust he gave, the soft words, the way his fingers worked so methodically, like he had done it a thousand times.
“Gonna come–!” you gasped.
“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he rasped, before letting out a moan as you finally reached your edge.
Your walls fluttered violently, your whole body shaking on top of him, and your mouth parted to let out the most beautiful moans he’d ever heard.
He kept kissing your face as you ride out your high, his own cock spilling with a deep groan into your ears.
“You did so good for me… now come on, let me cook you dinner, then we can sleep, okay?”
"Hey, kyle, how big is your dick?" Gaz chokes on his tea when you say it, takes a moment to cough through the fit before staring at you.
"Bruv. You cannot ask people that out of nowhere!" He hisses, though you just raise a brow and take another bite of your cereal.
"so it's small, then? Didn't look like it when your lieutenant dropped by and you only wore those sweatpants—" you dodge the pillow thrown in your direction, barely keeping the milk from spilling over the side of bowl. "What? Im serious!"
"We agreed not to talk about that! ....it's...decent. why?" He rinses out the mug before placing it in the dishwasher, scrunching his nose at your seat on the counter but not saying anything. It's a fight he won't win.
"Ever try frotting?" Your cereal has gone soggy by now, so you scoop up as much as you can and shove it into your mouth and delight in the way gaz double-takes "Buddy of mine says it's good. Wanted to try it."
For a solid minute, gaz just looks at you, trying to decide if you're serious or not. You're not...inexperienced in general, but kyle knows you've never done anything with a cock. Finally he snorts "yeah, okay. C'mon, my room."
Which is how you end up whining, hands fisting into kyles sheets while he holds your dick against his. Christ's, it's good. Just like you thought, his dick is bigger than yours, makes your mind go hazy when you look down so see the wet slide between his hand.
"Fuck– mhh— hold still—" kyle groans, falling forward to press his forearm right above your head. His face is so close you could kiss him, every rough exhale hot against your skin. "That's it, there you go, baby."
You can feel your own orgasm approaching, hips jerking up into Kyle's first despite your best efforts "fuck— kyle please– I need– i–"
With a moan his lips connect with your, cock jerking and warm cum hitting your stomach. You're not far behind, moreso moaning into his mouth than attempting to kiss. He jerks you both off, mixing cum with lube in a slow slide.
Finally, just before you hiss at him about overstimulation, gaz is pulling away. He grins, slow and self-satisfied at your expression "so? Everything you dreamed of?"
"Holy shit, kyle." You huff, stare at the ceiling. "...again? Like. Right now?"
Kyle only gets a half-word out before you're flipping him over with a playful grunt. You've just discovered your favorite thing.
Even the caption suits him if u squint. An AU where he’s a dealer and just falls in love with one of his clients and wants to be the only one taking care of her
What if we made this a little darker 😈
Cw: drug use, coercion, kind of non-consensual prostitution
Nikolai who’s your boyfriend’s plug.
“My plug is coming over— just be cool, ok? He gives me an insanely good price. He might hang out for a little, too.”
You know by now any questions you have will be waved off, so you resign yourself to dealing with there being another strange man in the apartment.
Nikolai greets your boyfriend warmly, like he’s an old friend, but his eyes light up when they land on you.
“And tell me— who is this beautiful creature?”
It’s a slippery slope from there.
That first time, he just sits by you, maybe drapes an arm on the couch behind you. You take a hit from the joint he has for himself at your boyfriend’s urging. Nikolai laughs and looks at you with soft eyes when you cough— like he just saw a silly puppy fall over.
He kisses your cheeks when he says goodbye and your boyfriend waves it off with a “he’s European”.
The next time, his arm is around your shoulders. Then, there’s a hand on your thigh. His goodbye kiss starts landing closer and closer to your lips.
And you feel guilty because you like it. There’s something so slow and easy and sticky about Nikolai— he’s easy to fall into. He’s an excellent conversationalist. He has interesting stories and despite the fact that he only sees you once a week, he seems to remember more about you than your boyfriend ever does. And your boyfriend, usually blitzed within the hour, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Every time you bring up how it’s a little strange what Nikolai (or Kolya, he’s insisted you call him) does, he waves it off— telling you to just be cool and not ruin a good thing.
Your coughing persists every time you take a hit to be polite. Nikolai responds by shotgunning with you. You were sure that would push your boyfriend over the edge, but no.
Until one day, you come home to what you think is an empty apartment. Your boyfriend should be at work. But you walk into your bedroom, and there he is— Kolya playing with the old teddy bear from your dresser (your boyfriend always ends up throwing it out of your bed).
“Nikolai—“
“Malýshka, how many times have I said? You can call me Kolya,” he chides gently, placing the bear down in a sitting position before moving to you.
“Jason isn’t—“
“I know he isn’t home right now, pchelka. He told me I could come here today while he was out.”
“He… he did? Why?”
The truth sits like a sore under your tongue but you don’t want to let it out. You don’t want to admit how stupid you’ve been. How this has been a long time coming.
“He is, well…. A loyal customer. But he hasn’t been able to make a full payment for a long time.”
He can see the second hand of a clock ticking behind your eyes.
“And he knows… he knows how fond I am of you.”
You shake your head in disbelief.
“And he made me an offer.”
You cry. First and foremost at the betrayal. At being treated so cheaply. At knowing this would happen and doing nothing to stop it. At the fact that you ever fell for the romantic words of a man so spineless. But most of all you cry from guilt and relief at the same time.
Because this has been your deepest, darkest, most unspoken fantasy ever since Nikolai walked into the door with his deep brown eyes, with his imposing figure and the gold chain dangling from his neck— and called you beautiful while looking at you like he really believed it.
You spend the rest of the evening in bed with Kolya. The same bed where your boyfriend fucked you. Slept next to you. Left the covers in a mess when he left bed after you.
Hours of it consist of comfort. Of shushing and cooing, of soft stroking and quick circles, of tongue and kisses and nuzzling with his nose.
Nikolai only fucks you once you beg. With a quivering lip and hiccuping sobs. When he can see your hips and feel your cute little hole on the tip of his cock as you try to line yourself up and chase him so he’ll fill you.
Respectfully, he put on a condom. But you don’t really care.
And when you’re in his arms afterwards, playing with his chain while he rubs your back, there’s a lot he could say. But he doesn’t need to say any of it.
He only speaks when he starts to pull away with a groan and a stretch. For a moment, you think everything will shatter— the dream will end and he’ll leave. He got what he wanted. No one wants you beyond what you provide for them. It’s then that he speaks.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering (f receiving), nipple sucking, squirting, clark kent is a loser (i love him), friends to lovers. wc: 927.
Daily Freaks masterlist | masterlist
You don’t know how long you’ve been venting to him.
It was a late weekend. Both of you cocooning inside your apartment under the sounds of Metropolis’ heavy rain, talking about anything and everything like you usually do.
He was there beside you. Thighs spread wide, arms casually hanging on the back of the couch where your head lies, it was like he won’t—cannot—be apart from you.
And you can’t be away from him either. He was like a magnet, with those crooked glasses, tall and broad build that emanates warmth during cold days like this, as if he was the sun. Your thighs pressed on his, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
The TV is playing in the background, but all he could focus on was you and the words—something about a bad hookup you’ve had over the week.
“He was weirdly obsessed with making me squirt!” you huffed. Clark felt his breath hitch the moment he could see the frustrated scowl painting your face.
“But the thing is, the guy’s a total fumbler– all wrong spots,” you sighed, looking up at him. “He couldn’t even find my clit, Clark!”
“Oh, so he’s the selfish type?” as his fingers brushed your hair gently—too softly for two “best friends”.
“Totally. Dude came after like three pumps,” rolling your eyes, instinctively shifting closer towards him as he wrapped your shoulder with his arm, tucking you in closer. “Left me high and dry, and all…”
You felt the tension easing as he began absentmindedly brushing his fingers along your arm, and you let out a soft breath. “It’s about your build up, it’s about listening to every gasp that you let out…” he whispered.
You closed your eyes and let him take over your senses. His voice, his smell, the feeling of his beefy arm around you. “‘S not your fault that he’s incapable of making you come, sweetheart.”
You nodded, tilting your head to look at him again. Now, there was nothing but an inch of space between your faces. “Have you done it before then?”
His eyes widened. “Done what before?”
“Make a girl squirt.”
Clark felt something stirred then. Whether it’s his heart, his cock, he didn’t know. Most likely both, though.
He nodded, too quickly. “Yeah– yeah of course.”
Well… he hasn’t. But researching “how to make girls squirt”, “vagina anatomy”, and watching videos after videos of tutorials couldn’t be too different, right? He can’t lie, he did learn it so he could impress a girl one day, and who’s better to impress than you, his best friend.
Clark won’t admit it, but he does have a crush on you—how can he not when you’re literally an angel to his eyes? Always so kind, so caring towards others and him the most.
Even if it hurts listening to one of your tales about the guys you’ve been having sex with, he just couldn’t stop listening to whatever you’re saying.
“Show it to me,” your words broke his train of thought, and he tensed immediately.
“You want me… to make you squirt?”
You nodded, and twenty minutes later, there you were.
Overstimulated by the amount of attention he is giving. From his soft kisses that turned heated quickly, to the short amount of time it took him to carry you onto your bed, stripping you bare so beautifully before him.
And now the sheets were damp underneath you. From the sweat you’ve been letting out even during the cold night, more from your cunt dripping so lewdly underneath you, even without him touching you there at all.
“Please– stop teasing!” you whined. Clark looked up towards your fucked and flushed face as his lips were still wrapped around your pebbled nipple, practically swollen now.
He nodded, before letting his fingers brush down your stomach, till they reach your clit. He circled it once, and your back arched instantly.
He teased your hole, spreading your wetness all over. “Already soaked for me… You ready?”
You nodded fervently, and holding his arm as he sat up straighter and cradled you onto his chest. “I need it, Clark…” you whimpered
He kissed your temple, spreading your legs open so gently, before finally pushing his thick, calloused fingers inside you, making you cry out his name so pleasingly.
You felt full, you felt completed. And the tension climbed up fast the moment he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curling his fingerpads perfectly into the spongy spot inside you that made you see stars.
Your hold on him tightened, though he didn’t stop there. His palm grinded on your clit simultaneously, the arm around you reached out to twist and pull on your nipple, and his lips left so many wet and hot kisses along your neck.
“Clark–!” you whined, hole fluttering around his fingers with the assault of satisfying pleasure.
“Relax for me,” he whispered.
You feel it then. “Wait– Gonna pee!”
And that was it. Clark began hitting your spot deeper and deeper, before the tension snapped brutally.
Flood after flood erupts then, drenching his hand up to his forearm, soaking the sheets around you even more. Your thighs quake, locking like a vice around his arm, and your scream was raw as your body reached its full ecstasy.
“That’s it, sweetheart…” kissing your temple as you began to ease out from the orgasm.
You whimpered weakly, before smiling softly at him. Eyes widening as you felt his hardness straining under his pants behind you.
clark hasn’t fucked you since that first time—just feels like he’s entitled to do everything but, teasing you until you’re a babbling mess.
Clark Kent still won’t quite give in.
(No matter how many times you bat your eyelashes.)
He still maintains the fact that he never should’ve fucked you in the first place.
“It was a lapse in judgment, and I’d had a little to drink.” He’ll say. “Wasn’t thinking straight,” he’ll say. “I took advantage of you. You’re too young for me. You’re beautiful, honey, what do you even see in an old man like me?” He’ll say.
Doesn’t matter that he’s a grown man and one beer is like a Sprite to someone his size. Doesn’t matter that you yourself were a legal, willing adult. None of it matters to Clark when he truly believes that he has your best interests at heart.
But ultimately, joke’s on him. Because like they say about a gateway drug, one hit and he’s got you hooked.
And he’s nothing if not your dealer, enabler: letting you in when you knock, giving you a stool to perch on while he fixes his beat-up old truck.. Paying when the two of you order in, (he won’t take you out for fear of your reputation.) giving you a well-worn flannel when you get cold.
Clark’s not exactly above blame, here, either.
After a certain point, some would call that a relationship. Yet your boyfriend, Clark, decidedly won’t.
And that’s not the only thing he won’t do.
He won’t let himself kiss you back for too long, won’t let you touch below the belt on his jeans. Won’t fuck you, but he’ll happily tease you.
Distractedly, obliviously, until he’s looking at the scene before him, ashamed, unable to hide the hard-on pressing against rough denim underneath you.
The History Channel’s on, yet you’re unable to give the documentary playing quite the attention it deserves. Why?
Because for the past twenty minutes, Clark’s been playing with your clit like he just needed something to do with his hands.
See, your boyfriend’s weird about history. He’s super into it, so at first, you thought he’d be some sort of armchair expert. But there’s huge swaths of human history like pre-1930 that he just knows nothing about.
“Over the centuries, many conspiracy theories have come out about the Titanic. One of the most popular all ties back to insurance fraud. The RMS Olympic, another ship owned by the White Star Line,” the narrator drones, voicing over a B-roll of grainy black and white pictures.
Your lips are shut tight as the blunt tip of Clark’s finger dips inside of you, your eyelashes fluttering over the tops of your cheeks as pleasure rolls over you in a wave. He’s been at this so long, he could probably look at you sideways and you’d come. His thumb swipes over your clit again, lazily, like he still doesn’t realize what he’s doing, and a whimper escapes from behind your teeth.
“Y’okay?” He mutters, his eyes still never leaving the TV. You’re about to grab his wrist, the situation just feeling more and more ridiculous by the second. But you didn’t fight it as he slipped his hands past the waistband of your shorts, your underwear, and you’re not going to fight it now.
And you know, clear as day, if either of you acknowledges it, he’ll stop. And you’d do anything to guarantee that he doesn’t.
“Yes, Clark.” You reply, thighs trembling as he adds another finger inside of you, curling them in tandem just like he’s interested in the new sensory experience.
“Had no idea people could be conspiracy theorists ‘bout something like a boat. Seems a bit silly, don’t it?” He drawls, and your eyes go upward, pleading with whatever deity that’s above to give you strength.
“P-people are,” you start, sighing as he rubs your clit with purpose now, almost like he’s giving you a reward for your nonchalance. “Conspiracy theorists about, just about, everything.”
You’re pretty proud of yourself for getting that full sentence out. It feels like your boyfriend is too, with the way he pushes his fingers all the way inside of you. The heel of his palm bumps against that agitated bundle of nerves, creating a friction as he fucks his fingers into you.
The sweetest torture: the tensing of your muscles as you writhe against the worn leather of his couch, your hand slapped firmly over your own mouth, and the only sign of his possible awareness to the situation being a slight tinge of red across his cheekbones.
“Oh, shit,” you cry, toes curling. Your stupid, stupid boyfriend. “Fuck, Clark!”
It’s then, then, that he’s startled from a daze, tearing his eyes away from the picture of J.P. Morgan on his television screen to look at you.
And what a mess you are: your eyes rolling back into your head, hair mussed, body shaking as you wet the thin skin of his wrist with your arousal.
For once, he lets you ride it out, muttering sweet nothings (mainly to himself, since you’re too far gone to properly hear anything) as you clench around his fingers.
It’s impossible to ignore the erection he’s sporting, his thighs widening to give himself more space as you look him over. It’s a hard goodbye, his fingers leaving your fluttering hole, but it’s bittersweet: Clark brings his hand up to his lips and sucks like he’s starving.
“You’re a jerk.” You snarl, cranky due to the fact that he’s more or less unbothered and you look so desperate for it.
His hand grabs your face, rough, fingers still wet against your cheek as he pulls you closer.
“A brat won’t tame herself.” He replies, breath fanning over your lips, his just out of reach.
your hand slams on the desk beneath you—so loud, yet it’s hardly louder than the man between your thighs.
clark’s tongue drags from your hole to your clit, licking up your juices before sucking on the aching pearl. he looks so pussydrunk, blue eyes fluttering closed with a desperate expression twisting his pretty face.
it makes you moan—which in turn makes him moan—as your hand grips clark’s hair, tugging his back down to your cunt.
he slurps up any of your juices that you give him, delightfully tonguing your hole with no abandon.
“gosh, honey—“ his hands grip tighter on the fat of your thighs, tugging you closer to his face. “you taste so good,” he moans between your thighs, one large hand palming at your breast.
at first hesitancy sat throughout your bones—what began as a simple make out with some egregious groping and fondling made clark drop to his knees within 4 minutes after a light bulb went off in his head; your skirt was easy to flip up.
your protests died silently after he lifted you on a random desk, hands greedily moving to pull your panties off and (put them in his pocket) away from your wet cunt.
call him a perv, sure, but he simply cannot see it that way when your back arches so prettily, thighs spreading wider for him. his hands move back to your legs, seating them over his shoulders. two thick fingers push into your fluttering pussy, groaning when he feels you clench around them.
