#clarkie

pairing ⤷ sexpollenated!clark x reader

warnings ⤷ sex pollen, disregard of feelings, penetrative sex, literal feral clark, lots of whimpering and groaning! not proofread ♡

finally. the day’s over and you can rest. all you’ve got is a 10-minute drive back to your apartment and you’ll be out in no time. one last line of this report to go, though. you’re typing in the final words when the office doors burst open, and you can just barely make out the silhouette of your coworker. 

clark kent.

he’d gone to the metropolis’ botanical lab to cover a story there hours earlier, and you assumed he’d be back soon, but he got caught up, assumedly. you get a better look at him, who’s stumbling into the office, panting. he’s all flushed, his hands are trembling, and his hair’s damp and sticking to his forehead. “you okay, clark?” you say it in that syrupy, soft tone, not wanting to startle the man. perhaps drunk? but he doesn’t seem like the type to go out drinking on the job. 

normally, he’s polite and offers to grab coffee for the both of you during your breaks so you don’t have to move a muscle. he’s a real gentleman, that one. but now, he’s all ragged and fucked-up. all jittery and the poor thing can barely even walk. it’s like he can’t think straight! his heads hanging low, and you can tell he’s looking at his feet, making sure they don’t fail him. 

“i’m fine, just… tired,” he called out to you, trying to brush off any concerns you may have had for him. his voice was a bit more breathy than usual. he holds onto different cubicles for stability as he makes his way to his. 

he’s just tired… right.

but you can tell now, he’s not fine. you drop your bags and stand to help him, your heels clacking as you walk to the trembling man. you reach your arms out to his, hoping for him to use your body to stabilize himself. he looks at you like he’s seen a ghost, and pulls his arm away before you can touch him. “n-no…” he backs up with his hands held up like a shield, still breathing hard, “don’t… don’t touch me… you can’t…” he grips the edge of the desk closest to him to no avail. this thing can barely hold him up. 

you freeze, hand hovering near him, suddenly unsure what’s happening. he looks… wrong. something’s very, very wrong. he’s never treated you like this, so disgusted by you. “did i… do something wrong, clark?” you step closer. he’s flustered and just barely holding himself together when you speak his name like that. you’re all concerned, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your friend all… worked up.

your stomach twists, something's wrong. he’s… panicking? you step back as you take his form in, a knot forming in your chest. he looks up at you and can just tell you’re upset, tears threatening to spill from your eyes if he didn’t make it clear he wasn’t mad at you. “n-no! i… it’s… not you…” he swallows hard, eyes darting, fingers still gripping the desk edge. 

but you can’t give up just yet. you step closer and reach out again, this time you successfully hold onto his arm, “it’s okay, clark, i got you,” the last words made his pants tighten at the way they escaped your lips. you got him, truly. so reassuring and too kind for your own good. he fights it at first, jerking away, but your touch hits him just right. your other hand is placed on his back, and a shudder ripples through him. your touch is enough to make him go crazy. 

he exhales shakily and almost melts into your hands, his shoulders relax and he gives in. “okay… just… jus’ a little…” he stops resisting and embraces you. the man in front of you who was just struggling to breathe is letting you touch him, and even though a minute ago you thought he’d die if you did. his body goes slack in your arms and he pants uncontrollably, poor guy just can’t seem to calm down! “clark, you’re okay. what’s wrong? you can tell me,” that concern in your voice makes him go crazy. 

the tinge of desperation in your voice. needing to know if he’s okay, touching him, looking at him like that. “please, just stop talking… can’t t-take this… hurts,” he just barely whispers out. you place your hand on his chest, trying to feel is heartbeat, maybe he’s having a medical emergency? “clark, i cannot leave you alone. you’re not okay! i’m gonna call some—”

he shudders and jerks his hips, almost like he’s not trying to. he presses his chest into your hand, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. it’s too fast, way too fast! you feel a sweaty palm cup the back of your hand and start to bring it lower. before you can even react, your fingers are curving over his, now obvious, bulge. “clark?” your voice was barely above a whisper, you could barely speak with your hand against his throbbing bulge.

he wanted it there, he needed you to know just how badly he needs your touch. “y-you feel that? something's wrong, i-i don’t know what,” his eyes were locked onto yours, his tears threatened to fall if you didn’t help.

he grinds his bulge right into the palm of your hand, holding it in place as he relieves himself. his eyes are screwed shut and his voice breaks, head thrown back. “‘s… keep it there, please… keep it righ’ there…” words trailing off into nothing. he’s too lost in the feeling of it. 

you stay there frozen with clark holding his hand against yours on his cock as he whispers out praises to you, telling you how good it feels and how much he’s needed this. but he gets needy after a while. just rocking his clothed bulge against your hand isn’t enough. “please… please, i can’t just–your hand’s not–i need you,” his voice was almost raspy, like each second he’s not burying his poor cock into you, he loses something. your eyes shut and you begin to nod, but clark lifts his trembling arm to your face and presses his palm against your cheek to feel you. you can tell by the speed of which he raises his arm, he’s trying to be gentle. except, he’s too hot. he’s practically boiling. you subconsciously recoil at the feeling of him, removing your hand from him and realizing he’s really not okay. his heart almost stops beating at the sight of you backing away from him, your brows furrow, lips parting slightly as you stared down at him, unsure what to do.

something wasn’t right. 

he knows you’re scared of this. the way you stumbled back, taking him in. seeing your poor coworker like that scares you, he knows. he’s desperate for you, now. “don’t–don’t move, please–” he raises his arm once again, the outstretched limb reaching toward your body. he just needs your touch. you’re both sure he’ll die if he doesn’t cum. “i… i need… your hand…” he reaches out to you more. a shudder rips through him. his finger tips brush the air, his thighs shift and his chest heaves with need. you can see it. he needs you. ragged breaths escape his throat as he waits for you to respond. “you’re shaking… you’re burning up. come closer.”

you’re allowed to play into it a bit. he needs you. “clark… just… come to me,” your head tilts, it’s ironic that you’re saying this to the man who can barely stand. if he wanted it bad enough…

he finally lunges at you, his eyes were dead set on your face when he comes toward you. you have no time to react before his hands clamp onto your waist and his hips grind instinctively. he mutters desperate words, leaning down to really get in your ear. “i… i have to… i can’t stop myself…” he’s trembling, almost shaking violently, pressed flush against you. you smirk softly at the sight of him like this. finally taking what he needs from you. good boy.

the sight of him towering over you again makes you nervous, though. he can really take you like this. his nose is buried deep in your neck as he smells you, that sweet perfume you’ve worn for ages is making him go crazy. “i have to… hurts,” his finger, still trembling, dips into the waistband of your skirt and pulls it down slowly. “clark… you’re okay,” your soft voice reassures him. it’s okay, clark. take what you want, clark. you’ll probably die if you don’t, clark. 

his hands roam your body disgustingly. he knows this is wrong,  you both do, but that doesn’t cross your mind right now. all that matters is helping your poor coworker. 

he ruts his bulge against your ass when you bend over a desk littered with papers concerning god knows what. “ngh, almost there, clark, s’okay…” he whispered out to himself. his sweaty fingers fumble around with his belt as you wait, cool air hitting your ass as your face lies on a stack of papers. he finally pulls his pants down and immediately pulls his boxers down after. his poor cock is all thick and big, and you can tell by the sound he makes, he’s not used to this. 

he rubs his meaty length against your slick cunt, your juices pooled in your underwear. his hands roamed your plush ass, he squeezed and prodded it as he almost growled out. “g-god,” he whines, his hips stuttering as he presses his dick against your underwear. his hips moves as he humps your underwear-covered cunt, his face buried in your neck. “h-hate this stupid fabric,” clark groans, pulling your underwear down roughly.

with a desperate groan, clark finally pushes his thick cock inside you. he gasped loudly at your tightness enveloping him, his hands are gripping your hips desperately. "my... oh god..." he started moving immediately, thrusting into you with that clumsy urgency driven by overwhelming need.

he’s so selfish right now. can you blame him? he can’t possibly control himself, he just needed to bury his cock somewhere warm and inviting! 

“cl—ark… t-too fast!” as he pounds your sopping, tight hole. but he doesn't seem to notice your complaint, his hips moving faster and faster, his cock slamming into you with too much force. his breath comes in ragged gasps against your neck, his fingers digging into your flesh as he keeps using your body for his relief. “almos’ there… get it out… get it out…” 

you try your best to fight it, trying to pull off of him and tell him it hurts. "said i’m almos’ there," he pants, not even realizing how rude he sounds right now. his thrusts become more animalistic, more desperate. he’s never felt anything like this before and his brain is taking over completely. "i can't... fuck, i can't stop..."

and then he feels your cunt flutter around his length. fat tears stream down your pretty face, you don’t even notice how good you feel around him. he hunches over you and kisses your neck as he thrusts. “g-gonna cum, clark,” your legs tremble underneath his immense weight. 

he freezes as you whimper out that you're going to cum. his eyes roll back and he starts moving again, even faster. "cum on my cock," he whines, his hands moving to squeeze your breasts roughly over your shirt. "cum on my b-big cock..." he was so kind to you days earlier, but look at him now. 

so, you release. that fire in your stomach you didn’t know you were holding grew until you couldn’t hold it anymore. his eyes roll back as your cunt tightens around him, milking his dick. he loses it completely, his hips snapping forward wildly as he cums inside you with a loud groan. "fuck... fuckfuckfuck..." he curses, emptying his huge load inside you.

he wraps his arms around your stomach, he locks them in place and drives his cock into your cunt. he doesn't stop even as he cums, his hips moving on autopilot now, driven by pure instinct. "feels too good..." he pants, his softening cock still buried inside you. "i’m still cumming... it w-won't stop..." short splurts of cum still coming out of the slit of his member. 

you should be scared, but all you can think is that you’d let him take you again. you don’t even realize when your eyes slip shut, body giving in, only that he’s still holding you.

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

summary: Clark brings out a side of you that both of you didn't realize you would enjoy so much

word count: 4036

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact! NSFW, smut, no use of y/n, sub!clark, oral f&m receiving, begging, pining, tension, probably grammatical errors, idk what else i just started working here (plz tell me if i forgot anything)

author's note: there aren't NEARLY enough sub!clark fics on here in my humble opinion, so i have come out of retirement to do the lord's work :p this is longer than i originally planned, i kinda got carried away soooo sorry!

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣

Despite what Clark thinks, you truly had no idea you had such a thing for submissive men.

You didn't have tons of experience, anyway. You weren't a very casual person, sex usually came after a few dates and at least the promising future of a relationship. In the past, you hadn't ever explored, it wasn't really offered to you. Most men you'd been with had taken on the dominant role, and you'd gone along with it, not really knowing any different.

Until Clark.

He showed up at the office day after day looking like a helpless little puppy with his shy dimpled smiles and his big blue eyes and you couldn't help but want to pat his head and tell him he was a good boy.

In fact, it was just that thought that first got you into trouble.

It had been a particularly rough day. Perry was in a terrible mood from the moment you walked in, and by the time Clark finally strolled in at his usual ten minutes late, Perry had gone ballistic. When Clark could actually get a word in, his apology was no more than a whispered "sorry" to which Perry ignored completely and ordered him to get to work.

He walked to his desk looking pitiful and defeated and it made your heart squeeze for him. He sat down in his chair with a huff and slowly raised his gaze to meet your sympathetic one.

"He doesn't mean it, Clark," you assured him. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He seemed unconvinced though grateful for your attempt at comfort as he smiled sadly and nodded before logging into his computer.

The whole day it seemed like he was trying harder and harder to become invisible. By lunch time, you were positive his shoulders and neck had to be hurting by how far he was crouching to hide behind his monitor.

You decided you needed something to cheer him up. So, during your lunch break, you walked around the corner to the cafe he usually got his coffee from and ordered his favorite. A vanilla latte with extra vanilla syrup. His sugar addiction was almost as bad as Lois', though he'd never admit it.

When you returned, he was still shrinking into his chair, ducking even further whenever Perry would peek his head out from his office. You laughed fondly at the sight before placing the coffee down on his coaster that said "writing is my superpower" right beside his pen mug that read "front page journalist" his Ma likely bought for him when he scored his first cover page article.

He looked at the cup and then up at you, his eyes so wide and sparkling behind his glasses he looked something akin to a Disney princess. You held back a sigh at the thought.

"What's this?" He removed the lid to see for himself and inhaled the warm scent of coffee and the small dash of cinnamon you sprinkled on top.

"A pick me up," you explained. "You looked like you needed one." You shrugged. He smiled that smile that made you a bit weak in the knees, where his dimples carve deep into both cheeks and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Once again, Disney should hire him as an art model.

"Thank you," he whispered to you lightly. You were so pleased by the return of his smile that your brain momentarily short circuited and you ran your hand through his hair before you could think better of it.

"Of course, sweetheart," you'd replied warmly, hand still feeling through his silky curls before you pulled away quickly, as if you'd been burned. If it weren't for his reaction, you might have been more embarrassed, but the way he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly like you'd weakened him, made you feel suddenly very warm and tingly.

You could tell he was feeling similarly with how a pretty blush reddened his cheeks and then the tips of his ears, his eyes nervously looking anywhere but at you. You walked back to your desk, the both of you suddenly unable to make eye contact anymore after your interaction, but you could not shake the feeling it gave you.

After that, it seemed like any semblance of restraint either of you possessed prior to 'The Coffee Incident' seemed to have completely disappeared. Suddenly, you were finding any and all excuses to touch each other, talk to each other, call each other pet names.

All of a sudden, the copier had become your enemy. You hadn't ever had trouble with it before, but seemingly overnight it had decided you were its mortal enemy. You told Clark so each time you would walk over to his desk, place your hand gently on his arm, and give him a slight pout as you asked him to help you with it once again. He would blush to the ears, but always obliged you, even when all he had to do was unplug it and plug it back in to get your copies to print.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you whisper, hand still resting on his forearm. You'd revel in the sight of his fist clenching, knuckles paling with restraint like he'd do or say something completely inappropriate for the workplace should you be anywhere else. It was completely thrilling and utterly addictive.

He had his tricks as well. He'd come in to the office most days with his tie crooked, hair always looking a little disheveled as if he had just rolled out of bed or walked through a wind tunnel to get here. He'd bring you your morning coffee, and then motion helplessly to his suit, asking politely for you to help him out. "I'm helpless without you, doll."

You'd always straighten his tie and then let your palms feel down the smooth lapels of his suit jacket before patting his chest when it was done. "I live to serve you, sweetheart." And sometimes you'd throw in a wink for good measure.

After weeks of nonstop flirting, you decided you'd had enough of this cat and mouse game. So, you dug around in your closet for your tightest pencil skirt, the blouse that made your chest look fantastic, and your sluttiest heels to wear to work.

The stars must had been aligned that day, because when you arrived at work, who was waiting for the elevator ahead of you but the man whom you had dressed up for. You called after him to hold the door once the elevator arrived, and as Clark turned to look back at you, his eyes widened so much that you worried for a moment you had gone a bit too far.

He said nothing as he held the doors open for you to step through, and not a single word as you rose up the first flight. It wasn't until the bell rang signaling you had reached your floor that he finally broke his silence.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Bingo.

"I would love that," you replied with a smile, noticing how his eyes glanced down to your lips currently painted red with glossy lipstick. You didn't stop grinning for the rest of the day.

When the day finally ended, you met Clark's gaze over your monitors and mirrored the smile he sent you. He stood and walked around your joined desks to grab for the jacket draped over the back of your chair and helped you put your arms through the sleeves before ushering you out, hand on the small of your back.

You went to a restaurant a few blocks from work, and mercifully only a few blocks from your apartment as well. You talked from the moment you left the Daily Planet, through the three meal courses, and then all the way until you reached the front of your apartment building. Suddenly, you were both stumped for conversation.

"Do you want to come up?" You finally asked him, batting your eyelashes just a little, giving him your best attempt at temptation.

"I...probably shouldn't. I mean...we-well, you...we've got an early day and-"

"Clark," you stopped him. "Come up."

"Okay," he agreed simply, swallowing thickly as you took his hand in yours to lead him inside.

When you walked through the threshold of your apartment door, you shed your coat and slipped your sling backs off to toss beside the entrance. Despite your instructions to make himself at home, he hovered by the front door like a neighbor who asked to borrow some sugar and "didn't want to intrude."

You returned to your living room with two glasses of water, placed them on the coffee table, and walked over to him to unbutton his suit jacket and slide both his coat and jacket off his shoulders to leave him in only his white button down. You felt down his arms, a little mesmerized by the muscles he had been hiding under those suits of his for so long and grabbed him by the tie to lead him over to your couch.

You lightly pushed him to sit down, moving yourself in between his spread thighs to look down at him, panting lightly and looking up at you like you were an angel descending from heaven. You felt a little drunk off of his attention; this mountain of a man, and you had him completely at your mercy.

You could tell he was slightly hard, his slacks tented a little at his lap, and when you moved your gaze back to his face, you watched a blush color his cheeks and neck. You smiled fondly and moved to situate yourself on his lap, having to hike your tight skirt up around your hips to be able to straddle his own.

When you sat, you could feel him hardening further against you, your heat meeting his own in a way that could only be described as dizzying.

“Is this okay?” You asked. He nodded with his jaw tightly clenched.

You let your hands wander, feeling up his stomach (which was surprisingly firm) and over his chest (which was also surprisingly firm) to cup his jaw. You thumbs moved along the slight stubble there, enjoying the catch of the hairs on your thumbs as they traced back and forth. You likened him to a cat, leaning into your touch, almost purring at the contact and heat of you.

“More than okay,” he added before he swallowed heavily and you watched his Adam's apple bob and thought about biting it. It almost scared you how turned on, how feral you felt about him. "You're killing me," he whispered into the charged space between you.

"Good," you murmured back before leaning down to press your mouth to his. He groaned into the kiss, only succeeding in making you feel more desperate and unhinged, like you couldn't be close enough, like you needed to be inside his skin to fully feel sated.

Your hips rocked forward, seeking friction and satiation and felt him grow bigger beneath you. His hands, which were previously politely beside him, were now gripping your hips tightly, and it was your turn to groan at the feel of him; his surrender.

Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, your lips already feeling swollen and heavy as his pressed firmly into your own, his teeth nipping at the supple flesh, his tongue following shortly behind to soothe.

You undid his tie, discarded it somewhere behind you, and began unbuttoning his shirt, eager to feel more of his skin against your own. You moved your lips to his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, and when you bite down and suck, he lets out a pathetic sort of noise that makes you pulse with desire, your hips jerking on their own accord to find some sort of relief.

Once you finished undressing him, your hands ran over the bare flesh you had uncovered, your nails sinking into his shoulders in an effort to cement yourself to him in some way. You marked him with your mouth and teeth and hands and still it wasn't enough.

"I need you," you whined to him, uncaring about modesty or ego in your desperation.

"Believe me, darling. You have me." He cupped your jaw to lead your mouth back to his as his hands felt along your backside, his hands digging into your flesh as well, enjoying his own exploration as much as you enjoyed yours.

Your fingers eagerly found the button on his slacks, the drag of the zipper like the strike of a match and his catching breath like the hiss of fresh fire. Your hand explored, tucking underneath the band of his underwear the feel the coarse hair that led to his thickness. You both groaned once your hand wrapped around him, feeling the veins and girth of his desire that made you feel a little lightheaded with want.

"Baby," he all but wheezed as you squeezed him at the base. "You're still fully clothed. Not fair." You could tell he was trying his best to keep his composure, his eyes screwed tight as his head feel against the back of the couch.

You took pity on him and rose from his lap, enjoying the sight of him so completely disheveled and unraveled beneath you as you stared down at him, your eyes locked on each other like you weren't capable of looking anywhere else. He was easily the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. You told him so. He blushed.

You pulled your blouse up over your head and unzipped your skirt, letting them both fall into a heap on the floor. You moved to peel off your tights, but he sat up to stop you.

"May I?" He asked, his eyes so dilated there was only a small ring of blue left. You nodded and tracked his movements as he sat up and raised shaky hands to your hips. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your stomach, the tenderness causing a catch in your throat and a tremble in your hands. He handled you delicately, like you were made of glass or porcelain, and slowly hooked his thumbs under the waistband and peeled the tight material down your legs.

You held onto his shoulders as you stepped out, enjoying the way they felt, steady and strong, under your grip. Before you could process what was happening, his arms wrapped around your torso and lifted you up and onto the couch, your back hitting the plush cushions. A surprise laugh escaped you, the new view of his smiling face hovering above your own taking your breath away a bit.

He kissed your jaw, your neck, your chest, and then moved further down, his fingers playing with the straps of your red bra.

"I need to taste you," he confessed. "Can I taste you? Please?" He continued kissing you over your bra, the lacy material feeling nothing but suffocating at this point as you tried to focus on his question. His fingers fiddled with the clasps on the back and you nodded, lifting up to give him better access.

He pulled the bra off, wasting no time before attaching his mouth to your breasts, open mouth kisses trailing everywhere, his teeth nipping when he'd get close to your nipples, but never quite giving you what you wanted.

"Clark," you chastised breathlessly, arching your back closer to his mouth. He smiled but did as he was told, closing his mouth around the stiffened peak, suckling gently, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. You both moaned, drunk off the feel of him.

He alternated between nipples, carefully ensuring both got equal love and attention before finally, mercifully, moving lower down your body.

He looked up at you again, kissing your hipbones over the fabric of your underwear before asking again, "Please?"

“Yes,” you agreed breathlessly, lifting your hips even before he moved to bring your lacy panties down. He flung the material across the room, neither of you caring where it landed, before lowering himself between your thighs.

"God, honey," he swore at the sight of you, glistening and desperate, waiting for anything he'd give you. "So pretty." He was almost murmuring to himself as he spoke, running his fingers over your folds and spreading them, his gaze reverent and hungry like he was a starved man who hadn't eaten in days.

"Clark, please." You hadn't even finished speaking before he dove in, licking up the length of your slit, a moan ripping from your throat before you could stop it. He groaned into you, wrapping his arms around your hips to hold you in place, like he was getting comfortable and was planning on being down there a while.

"You taste like heaven." His mouth was covered in your juices, words muffled by your flesh as he was too focused to completely pull away even for a moment to speak. His tongue circled your hole, feeling inside, and he moaned when you clenched around it. You were so sensitive, you could tell you wouldn't last very long. Even before you knew he was this attentive of a lover, you'd had weeks of foreplay built up. Neither of you were going to last very long tonight. And the thought didn't bother you at all.

When he began sucking on your clit and flicking his tongue, you grabbed onto his hair, needing something to ground you. He was too much to look at. His glasses were fogging up and even still you could see his intense stare through the steamed up lenses. His fingers were gripping hard enough to leave marks and the noises coming from him were going to be imprinted in your memory forever. It was too overwhelming, too good.

When he added a finger, sliding it into your wet heat and hooked it to reach that spongy spot inside you only your toys usually could, you squeaked his name and warned him of how close you were. Maybe, had you been any less enthralled you might have been embarrassed about how loud you were being, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Please come for me, Honey," he begged. "I need to feel you, need to taste you, please." He added another finger, making you feel even fuller, the both of them curling to scratch that deep itch while his tongue moved over you, and the wave crested.

You screamed his name, unable to contain it, unable to stop squirming and alternating between trying to move away and trying to get closer to his attentiveness. He kept going until you were twitching, whimpering, and pushing at his head. He crawled back up the length of you to kiss you and you enjoyed the taste of yourself on his tongue.

You kissed while you caught your breath, and then pushed him back, guiding him to sit back against the cushions as you crawled down his body to the floor.

"You don't-"

"Shh," you quieted him while taking him out of his briefs. "I want to." That was an understatement. The sight of him, thick and veined, his pretty, pink tip weepy and dribbling with pre-come, made your mouth water. He whimpered as you traced a finger up the vein on the underside of his cock. "Poor baby," you cooed, kissing his chest and then down his stomach.

You licked up the length of him, relishing in his shaky sigh and how he trembled slightly against you. "Please," he whimpered, looking so desperate you almost felt sorry for him.

You kissed the tip before parting your lips and slowly sliding your mouth down around him. He was so thick and so long, you knew it was gonna take you a bit to fit him comfortably inside your mouth, or anywhere, really.

"Oh-oh golly..." his head thumped lightly against the back of the couch, one of his hands coming to just rest on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as if he were playing with it.

You slurped and bobbed your head, slowly lowering and fitting more inside with each pass. His hands kept moving like they were going to push your head further down, but they never applied pressure. He would place them there and then they'd move again, sometimes gesturing aimlessly in the air around him, sometimes tracing over your skin and hair just to feel you. When he did finally let his control slip a little and pushed your head down with his hands, he released you like he'd done something wrong.

"S-sorry, honey...god...nghh...you're just, ah...you're just so good."

You popped off and pumped him with your hand a few times, the mix of spit and come making you glide over the skin easy.

"Yeah, baby?" You smiled and bent down to suck on his balls. He twitched at the sudden contact.

"Mhmm...unngghhhh...please, honey," he babbled, his chest rising and falling so rapidly, like he had just finished running a marathon.

"What is it?" Your voice held a sort of demeaning tone, your hand jerking him harder and harder with each second, feeling yourself get riled up all over again over watching him beg. "Do you want to come?"

Your tongue swirled over the head, unable to contain your light smile when he actually whined at the movement.

"Yes please," he answered politely. You hummed while you took him down your throat, swallowing around the tip as he jerked his hips unintentionally, the entirety of him now in your mouth. Your lips were stretched wide and your nose was buried into the neat and coarse hair at the base, but you couldn't care any less when he was coming undone like he was.

"Baby please...I'll be-ah, I'll be so good...please just let me-unnngghh...please just let me come...I need to come..." he wouldn't stop, his mouth was a steady stream of desperation and groveling that sounded like music to your ears.

You removed your mouth from him for only a moment to say, “Then come, sweetheart. Be a good boy and come for me.” You took him as deep into your throat as you could, cupping his balls and humming around him to push him over the edge.

His usually very deep voice had gone squeaky in his pleasure as he thanked you passionately, as if you could deny him. "Thank you, baby, thank you so much, thank you," he rattled off, an endless stream of cum spurting from him, ropes and ropes of it shooting down your throat as you eagerly swallowed it all. Just as he did, you waited until he was twitching and whining from overstimulation before popping off of him.

After the both of you caught your breath, he pulled you back into his lap, your legs across his lap this time and your skin pressed to each other's which was sweaty and sticky but delightful all the same. He kissed your temple, his thumb tracing circles in your hip as you sighed contentedly.

"That's..." he began. "I've never...reacted that way before." He sounded shy, his head bowed as his fingers continued kneading your flesh like he was a distracted cat.

"Me neither," you confessed, pushing the messy curls off of his sweaty forehead, brushing away the strands that stuck there. You moved to take his glasses off for him, smudges and fog still littering the frames, but he stopped you with a hand around your wrist. "Don't you want them off to clean them?" You questioned.

"I can't see you without them," he answered softly.

You smiled and laughed lightly. "It will only be a moment."

He shook his head, still holding your wrist in his large hand. "I'll do it later." You shrugged and let him kiss you again, his arms wrapping around you to squeeze you in closer.

You kissed until you felt him harden beneath you again, pulling back to give him a surprised look. It had only been a few minutes.

He blushed. "I really like you."

You chuckled and stood before reaching out your hand, offering to help him up off the couch. When he cocked his head in question you said, "do you want to fuck on the couch or in my bed this time?"

You barely got the words out before he had lunged off the couch, scooping you into his arms and running back toward your bedroom.

You laughed the whole way there, knowing without a doubt it was going to be a long night.

masterlist

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

1. They address the Great Hiatus and where Holmes has been for the past (canonically) four (ahem, NINE, by the time the movie comes out) years. And use that to dramatic effect in the Holmes-Watson relationship. (Do I think they really will do that? Nope. But I could be wrong.)

“ngh—m’sorry, g-goodness,” his face is planted in the crook of your neck as he holds your knees to your chest, digging his thick cock into you as he cries out.

mhm, exactly! yup, yup, yup!

when you’re bouncing on it, clark puts his glasses on to really see you. his big hands roaming all over your tits, squeezing and sucking those beautiful mounds. he exhales through his nose like a damn animal. doesn’t even wanna come up for air. glasses all crooked before he adjusts them again. he’s gotta see you.

and when he’s lapping at your glistening cunt, hands on either of your thighs, massaging, his glasses are all foggy from his breath. breathing all hard and working harder. his chin dripping in your sweet juices.

or sometimes he just… forgets. he’s so busy with fucking his babies into you, he doesn’t even realize his glasses are still on. they’re low on the bridge of his nose as he groans in your ear, mumbling something about how warm you are. how much he loves you. how much he doesn’t deserve you or this perfect cunt.

his hair’s all messy. his glasses are slipping. he keeps having to push them up with one hand while he’s splitting you open with the other. you try to reach for them once and he catches your wrist. shakes his head.

“no, baby. leave ’em. wanna see you.”

his eyes all blown out behind the lenses. sweat fogging up the glass. you’re clenching around him and he’s trying so hard not to lose it—muttering shit like “s’too much, you feel so good, god i can’t stop” while he fucks you through the mattress.

and when you cum?

he pulls back to watch. literally leans back on his knees, palms your thighs open, breathes hard behind the foggy frames, and watches you twitch around his cock like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.