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bleedingsunlight · 1 day ago

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interviewing Superman

Clark Kent x fem!reader

Summary: Clark and you have been friends for a long time. You can never help but flirt with him a little, but it stayed innocent; until you find yourself in your apartment with him, crossing a line you can't uncross. Warnings: smut (16+), sub!clark, dom!reader, porn with plot?, Clark is shy but also vocal, oral (f!receiving), sooo much dirty talk, slight edging (Clark), he also gets panties and fingers stuffed in his mouth so there's that Word Count: 5,248 A/n: Ugh I've already read every sub!clark fic there is and it's not enough so I decided to make my own 🤗. this is the longest smut fic I have ever written; see what this man brings out of me? can't believe it's the lack of sub clark that got me out of my writing slump but THANK YOU CLARK KENT

Clark Kent was truly one of a kind. A man of his posture, 6 feet 4 and pure muscle, but so, so awkward. In a charming way, of course. It was hard to miss the looks he got at the Daily Planet office, in the grocery store, on the bus. The list was endless.

And yet, Clark Kent was oblivious to it all. Maybe that's what made him even more endearing; the fact that he had no idea how beautiful he was (cue one direction). It also made being friends with him incredibly hard; I sometimes felt like I had to physically hold back from pouncing on him.

As I strolled into the office early in the afternoon, I noticed Lois and Perry standing at my desk.

"Look who decided to show up!" The big boss exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

Before I could answer, Lois jumped in.

"Y/N! I was just informing Perry of your interviewee running late," she gave me a look that said 'go with it'.

I did not just take an interview. I was supposed to be at the office by 12, but I'd completely lost track of time; punctuality was not my strong suit.

"Who were you interviewing?" Perry asked, still skeptical.

"Uh-" for a moment, my brain short circuited. I was not working on any article right then, having taken up the task of editing some of the other reporters' works. Perry knew this.

"Superman," I blurted out. "It was just an exclusive chance you know, I had to take it."

I was lying straight through my teeth, but Perry didn't seem to notice. He nodded, pleased, and said, "Very well. I expect you to turn it in as soon as you can."

He walked away, and I waited until he was out of earshot before I turned to Lois. "Why would you do this to me?!"

Lois laughed, "Me? You mean, why would you do this to you. Superman, really? You know the only person who gets interviews with him is Clark."

I looked over to Clark's desk, then, only to see him looking straight at me already.

I gave him my sweetest smile, "Hey there, Clark."

His eyes widened, as if he got caught listening in to a conversation he wasn't a part of. Which is most likely exactly what he was doing.

"Uh, hey," he mumbled with a sheepish smile. God, this man is something else.

"Oh," Lois nodded in understanding, "Clark might be Superman's favorite, but you're Clark's favorite." She pointed at me. "So in the end, you're not in trouble at all."

"What is this I hear about being Clark's favorite?" Jimmy perked up, "because we all know that's me, guys."

I scoffed at him with a smile, "Keep dreaming, Jimmyboy. Nobody can take my place in Clark's heart. Isn't that right, Clarky?"

Clark couldn't stop his ears from turning pink at being put on the spot like that. "That's right," he confirmed softly.

"So, if I'm really your favorite, you can help me get an exclusive interview with Superman, can't you?"

Clark hesitated clearly, so I added, "I only need 15 minutes with him. Even 10 is enough; I just need that never-seen-before-interview."

Suddenly, something seemed to click in Clark's brain, as he straightened up and said much more confidently, "Sure. I'll contact him and let you know when he's available."

My eyes widened, "Clark Kent, you are a life-saver. I could kiss you right now."

He turned pink again at that last sentence. Jimmy rolled his eyes, "Knock it off with the flirting, guys."

7 hours later, I was ready to leave. As always, Clark waited for me at the door so we could walk home together. His apartment was very close to mine, and since I started working at the Daily Planet, we got to know each other better rather quickly. After a while, both of us decided to ditch public transport and start the tradition of ending almost every work day together, on our walk home. Sometimes, we'd even have dinner together, too. This was one of those nights.

"So Clark, do tell, why is it that Superman likes you so much?" I asked as I opened his cupboards for plates.

"I wouldn't necessarily say he likes me that much," Clark chuckled awkwardly. "I just happen to be in the right place, at the right time, a lot."

My eyes narrowed. "Okay‒ Clark, why are you so nervous?"

This was the fourth time he'd dropped something while cooking, and he kept rubbing the back of his neck when he spoke, which was a tell tale sign of his nervousness.

"I'm not-" I fixed him with a look. He sighed, "I have to tell you something."

"Spit it out, then."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, and with every second he stretched the silence, my eyebrows raised higher in anticipation. If he didn't spill soon, they'd end up on the back of my head.

"Okay. Uhm. I'm Superman."

He stated this with utmost sincerity in his voice, looking straight into my eyes.

"You're Superman," I parroted, not fully registering what he'd just said.

After a few seconds of intently staring at each other, I exclaimed, "You're Superman?"

"I can prove it if you don't believe me-"

"Clark‒ wait, no, what? You're Superman?"

He chuckled, "I am."

Sweet, adorable, awkward Clark Kent, who'd never shake off his Kansas farm boy accent no matter how hard he tried to mask it. Clark Kent, who brought me coffee from a shop in the city daily, so I wouldn't have to resort to the broken machine at the office. Clark Kent, who folded his socks and neatly stacked his underwear in a separate drawer.

Clark Kent fought intergalactic monsters weekly.

"But... you don't‒ I mean-" as I struggled to put my thoughts into words, I started to put the pieces together. Clark always disappeared at random times during the day, without telling anyone where he was off to. Conveniently, those were the times Superman showed up. Clark had Superman practically on speed dial. Almost as if they shared a mirror. He did resemble Superman quite a bit, but still...

"But Clark," I questioned softly, "Why does nobody recognize you as Superman?"

Instead of answering, Clark simply took off his glasses. The changes weren't obvious. He didn't suddenly morph into a different person. But now, I noticed it. He looked exactly like Superman.

Clark Kent was Superman.

"You fucker! 'In the right place, at the right time', my ass. You've been interviewing yourself," I narrowed my eyes at him.

Clark laughed nervously, "I'm afraid you got me there."

"Wait," I gasped, excited, "Does this mean I can just interview you?"

"Well, that's actually what got me thinking," his voice was soft as he spoke. "We've known each other for quite some time now, and I trust you. When you said you needed an interview with Superman, it made me think it'd just be easier if I told you."

I smiled at that. Clark Kent trusted me. "Don't worry, Superman. Your secret's safe with me."

We'd decided to schedule the interview 2 days later, so I'd have some time to prepare my questions.

This time, we had dinner in my apartment. It was my turn to cook for Clark, and we made some small talk over dinner. Work had been stressful lately, what with LuthorCorp being such a pain in the ass and Perry demanding top work from all of us. Clark had his duties as Superman on top of that as well.

"When did you realise you could fly?" I asked Clark, as I watched him do the dishes.

He shrugged, "One day I woke up, flying a foot above my bed instead of laying in it. It took a while to get it under control."

"Must've been a real shock for your parents, too," I grinned.

Clark smiled at that. "It wasn't that shocking for them, actually. They found me when I was very young, and they knew immediately that I wasn't from Earth. Something was bound to happen."

I remembered all the backlash Superman had gotten when it came out that he was an alien. It felt weird to think, now, that this man in my kitchen, doing the dishes in his dishevelled button-up shirt, was an alien. Clark Kent was more human than anyone I'd ever met.

When we were done cleaning the kitchen (or rather, when Clark was done cleaning my kitchen), I led him to the sofa, question sheet in hand.

When we'd gotten comfortable, I turned to Clark, pressing record.

"Please state your name for the record."

Clark smiled. "It's Superman."

"Well, hello, Superman. A little recap of the situation at hand; some people think it's a great idea to get Superman under the government's command. According to them, it's dangerous to have a free agent of that caliber running around, doing whatever he thinks is plausible, without any clear orders or accountability to be held to. What would you say, to defend your own freedom?"

"I understand where they come from, of course. If my intentions weren't so good, I would be a great danger. But the people should know that all I want to do, is the right thing. Protect those who need it, fight the bad guys, inspire hope. By letting me act according to my own free will, I can do so."

"But what if your vision of 'the right thing' differs from the vision of the majority of the citizens, and thus the people in power that they voted for?"

"My vision of 'the right thing' is helping and protecting as best as I can, as many people as I can. I don't see how that could be a problem."

Clark looked at me then, really looked at me, as if he was trying to will his words into my skull. He seemed to have forgotten that right now, I was a reporter interviewing him. I didn't think he should be placed under government control.

"What about situations of war? Will you step in then? Because if you do, you do stand by a government."

"Yes, if you go with the logic that I would only help one side. If I were to involve myself in warfare, it would be to save as many innocent lives as I can, on both sides."

"So people have nothing to worry about, then."

"Indeed. They'd have more to worry about if I were placed under government control; what if their government turns out to be corrupt or commands me to assist on less righteous missions?"

"Interesting take," I smiled.

Clark had given me far more than I'd asked for. In the end, I had an interview of 25 minutes, and more than enough to work with. Clark offered to help me actually write the article. I'd taken him up on that, but since it was already pretty late, I offered to let him sleep at my apartment. His ears turned pink at this‒ which seemed to be a regular occurrence (not that I minded) ‒ but he agreed.

We worked in a comfortable silence. I'd grabbed some late night snacks and brewed tea for the both of us, spoiling Clark in return for his help.

After a tedious late night session, we were finally done. I let out a huge sigh, holding up my hand for a high five. Clark gave me one, smiling from ear to ear.

It was Saturday, so we didn't have to worry about getting up early the next morning. And since work was done for now, tomorrow could be a real rest day. No more work to catch up on.

"So," Clark began.

"So."

"Happy with how your exclusive interview turned out?"

I grinned. "Very. Superman's a real nice guy, huh."

"You think so?"

"Of course. Empathetic, saving people, real hero. Attractive, isn't it?" I grinned at Clark. I knew we were just friends, but he always got so flustered anytime I flirted even just a little bit, I couldn't help myself.

As I expected, Clark flushed, knowing I was talking about him.

"Well," he laughed nervously, "I don't know if I'd call him attractive, per se."

"Oh, I would," I winked at him.

Clark, very flustered and desperate to change the subject, did just that. "So, how's, uh, how's life?"

"How's life?" I repeated with a laugh. "Well, great, now that I have you in my apartment."

Clark groaned, hiding his blushing face behind his big hands, "Would you stop that."

"Stop what, exactly? Being honest and truthful?"

"I don't know how to answer when you‒ when you say stuff like that," Clark sighed.

"How come, Clark? Do I make you nervous?" I smirked. I knew this was only flustering him more, but it was just so fun. Here he was, this big, burly man, hiding his blushing face because I'd called him attractive and said I liked having him in my apartment.

"Yes," he admitted. "Well, maybe not nervous. I think the word agitated is a better fit."

I pounced at that. "Agitated, huh, Clark? Agitated how?" I'd moved closer to him on the couch, our legs pressing together. "You mean... tense? Worked up? Hmm?"

I knew I was crossing a line now. Normally, when I flirted with Clark, it remained innocent. His cheeks would turn pink. If he was sitting, he'd shift in his seat, or if he was walking, he'd trip over his own feet but catch himself at the last second. But that was about it. I never pressed further, just grinned behind my hand like some evil mastermind.

Right now, though, with our bodies pressed so close together and our faces inches apart, it felt different. Different how, I wasn't sure. What would it take for him to break?

"I‒ You're so dirty minded. I didn't mean like that," his voice cracked a little, not expecting his words to backfire like that. If you could call this backfiring.

"Not like that? Then how did you mean it, hmm? Because the way I see it, you're getting pretty excited right now, Clark."

He followed my gaze, realising to his great horror that, indeed, Clark Jr. had awakened.

At this, he scooted away from me, making me furrow my brows. Had I read the signs wrong? I almost felt bad, seeing his frame hunched over, as if trying to make himself smaller, even though he clearly couldn't because he was, well, big.

Clark didn't look grossed out at me, however. No. He looked mortified.

"I didn't‒ didn't mean to, I swear, I'm not a pervert-"

"Clarky," I cut him off. "I don't think you're a pervert." He seemed to relax a bit at that, letting his shoulders fall. As his body loosened up, he seemed to take up more space on the couch again. And when he turned his head towards me, it was suddenly very notable how close our faces were. I leaned in even closer, just to see if he'd pull back.

He didn't. In fact, he seemed to be in a trance, unable to move, staring at my lips. I took the chance and leaned in all the way, connecting our lips. Clark sighed against my mouth, before he seemed to grasp what was happening and kissed me back.

Clark kissed like he needed me to breathe. He was intense, a little desperate, even. I swung my leg on either side of his', straddling his lap. He kissed fervently; maybe he had greater lung capacity, too, aside from all his other strengths, but I needed air. As we broke apart, I took in Clark's face.

He looked a little stunned, lips red and moist from kissing, eyes wide like he couldn't believe them. Then, he broke out into a smile. It stretched so wide, I'm sure his cheeks hurt.

"Wow," his voice was breathless, even though he seemed to have had no problem continuing kissing if I hadn't broken us apart. "That was... far better than I've imagined."

I couldn't help but smile at his adorableness, "You've been imagining this, huh?"

"I...," he hesitated, before seemingly mentally hyping himself up, shrugging, "Oh well, we just made out. Point of no return and all that." He took a deep breath. "I've liked you for a very long time. At first, I was just nervous around you because you were‒ are ‒ so beautiful, and you flirted. With me. Me, of all people. But then, we got to know each other better, and we became actual friends. And I realised that it wasn't just a silly superficial crush. I mean, I don't know how you feel, but since you kissed me, I assumed there could be a chance you might like me, too. But you don't have to tell me, of course, I really wouldn't want to pressure you into giving an answer because you now feel obligated to. And if you don't see me that way, that's totally fine, I just don't want it to ruin our friendsh-"

I cut off his rambling by putting my lips back on his, smiling into the kiss because he was just so cute.

When we broke apart this time, Clark grinned at me. "Does that mean what I want it to mean?"

I laughed, "Depends, Clark. If you want it to mean 'I like you too, idiot', then yes, it does."

"Hey, now," he pouted. "'m not an idiot."

I smiled apologetically, shifting in his lap. In doing that, I was reminded of the reason this all started; Clark Kent Jr.

Clark seemed to notice, too, his face flushing again. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I'll-"

He made a move to set me on the couch next to him and get up, but I stopped him, keeping my knees firmly planted on either side of his legs.

"It does make me uncomfortable, Clark." I smirked, then, grabbing his hand and leading it to my thigh. "But I know a way for you to make me feel better again."

His breath stuttered as I slid his hand up my thigh, until he reached my clothed pussy.

I was sure he could feel the wetness through my jeans. He could probably smell my arousal, too. "Do you feel how uncomfortable I am because of you, Clark? I think you better make it up to me."

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "I'll make it up to you. Just‒ just tell me what to do."

"You like that, Clark? Me telling you what to do?"

He seemed incapable of forming an answer in words, simply nodding his head, eyes wide.

"Well, then. I'll tell you exactly what to do."

I stood up, moving away from Clark so I'd have enough space to undress. I removed my pants fairly quickly but slowed when removing my panties. Even though he seemed nervous‒ knowing Clark, he probably felt indecent for just looking ‒ his eyes were trained on me. I turned around, giving him a front row view of my ass, as I slid down my underwear.

"C'mon Clark, I shouldn't be the only one undressing here, should I?" I gave him a pointed look, noting the way his ears had turned pink again. Almost seemed as if that was their permanent color around me.

Clark shook his head, as if waking up from a daze. "No, no, you're right." He took his pants and underwear off, too, although with much less show than I had done.

"Good," I smiled. "Now you can really feel me."

As I straddled his lap again, I tugged at his button-up, signalling that I wanted that gone, too. He made quick work in removing it. I positioned my hands on his broad shoulders, massaging them slightly. Clark groaned quietly, his head falling forward onto my shoulder.

"You're so strong, Clark. And so good. Always saving people in distress. I think Superman deserves a reward for all his hard work, hm?"

Clark mumbled his response into my shoulder. That just wouldn't do.

"What was that, honey? I couldn't hear you."

I grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it so he'd lift his head. He did so, but still kept his eyes closed, too shy to outright look me in the eyes.

"Yes. Please."

I tugged his hair harder this time. "Look at me when you talk to me, Clark."

His cock twitched against my pussy as he opened his eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, slightly pink in his face, "ma'am."

As a response, I rolled my hips, pussy drenching his cock in my wetness.

"What do you want, baby? Tell me," I urged him, wanting to hear his pretty voice.

"I‒ I want to make you feel good?"

"Really, Clarky? You wanna make me feel good? What do you have in mind?"

"Why do you have to make me say it," he sighed, face flushing.

I smirked, "'Cause I like seeing you squirm."

His blush deepened at that, but he didn't respond.

"C'mon, then, Clark. Tell me what you wanna do to me."

"I'd like to.. to taste you. Please," he added as an afterthought.

"Look at you," I murmured, voice low. "Begging to get a taste. Wanna put that mouth to good use, huh?"

Clark nodded.

I stood up, positioning myself on the couch, legs spread to give Clark a full view of his dinner.

He followed after me, lowering himself to his knees in front of my pussy. Even then, he still had to lean down, broad shoulders hunched over. My mind reeled at how tall he was.

"Go on then, Clark. Have a taste," I urged him. Although I had been the one teasing, I was also incredibly pent up.

Clark smiled tentatively, that sweet smile that made me melt every single time.

He leaned forward, giving my pussy an experimental lick. He inhaled deeply, almost as if trying to commit my smell to memory. Then, he dived in.

Now, I hadn't expected Clark to be a virgin, but I thought he'd be slightly inexperienced, solely judging by his shy and gentleman-like persona. But this? This was not how a gentleman ate pussy. Clark acted like a man starved.

He lapped at my pussy, my hands moving to his hair to tug him even closer. Not that that was physically possible, but Clark seemed to enjoy the sentiment because he moaned into my core, which sent a jolt of pleasure through me.

"Goddamn, Clark, if I'd know you ate pussy like this, I'd have kissed you a long time ago," I groaned out. Clark squeezed my tigh, signalling that he'd heard me, but too busy to stop his actions and answer.

I could feel the coil tightening in my stomach, and when Clark started moving his thumb on my clit, I lost it.

"Clark," I gasped. "Just like that, baby, I'm coming."

Hearing that spun Clark on more, upping his efforts and effectively making the coil snap. I moaned out as my orgasm washed over me.

My chest heaved as I came down, treading my fingers through Clark's hair, who looked up at me with half lidded eyes. God, he looked as if he'd just orgasmed.

"Uh," he spoke up then, avoiding eye contact, "You‒ you taste good."

"Why thank you, baby. Can I taste?"

As he noticed me looking at his lips, Clark flushed. He nodded his head yes, though. So I kissed him again, tasting my own come on his lips.

Pulling back, I took notice of Clark's rock hard cock. His tip was an angry red, having been neglected all this time.

I coo'ed at him, "Aw Clarky, that must hurt, surely. You know, I can make you feel good, but you're gonna have to tell me what you want."

Clark groaned quietly, knowing He was gonna have to say it out loud.

I pushed him back onto the couch, seating myself in his lap again. "C'mon then. You're not getting anything if you don't talk to me."

"I want you to‒ could you, ride me, please?" Clark flushed. I snickered at him; he was already embarrassed, and he wasn't even really dirty talking. Oh well, I'll just do it for him then.

"You want that, Clark? Want to feel my pussy around you? You got such a big cock and you have no idea what to do with it, huh? Don't worry, Clark, I'm gonna use your cock. You don't have to think about anything."

I had resorted to humping him again, repeatedly sliding his cock between my folds, teasing us both. I could feel Clark's cock twitching with every word; he looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Aw, baby, do you want it? Hmm? You want me to stick it in? You're so big and strong‒ you're literally Superman, you could take anything you want from me. And yet, you're helplessly laying beneath me, just taking everything I give you."

Clark nodded, hands clenching into fists by his sides, eyes screwed shut to not let his tears of desperation fall. "Please."

"Alright then, pretty boy," I laughed. I lifted myself up a little, grabbing his cock. Clark stopped me before I could sink down.

"Wait! I‒ I don't have a condom," he mumbled, chest heaving slightly.

"I'm on the pill," I reassured him. "And clean."

"Yeah, me too," Clark said. "Well, I'm clean too, I mean. Not on the pill."

I snorted at him. Resuming my earlier movements, I grabbed a hold of his cock, slowly sliding down. Clark was big, but I was so incredibly wet from my previous orgasm that it didn't really hurt much. Once he was completely inside me, I waited for a second to get used to the feeling. And maybe to tease Clark, whose head had fallen back against the couch, mouth open in a silent 'oh' and his eyes screwed shut tightly.

As I dragged out the moment, Clark grew restless. He bucked his hips slightly, gasping, "Please."

"Please what, Clark? You want me to move?"

"Yes. Yes, please, move," he whined, opening his eyes to give me that puppy dog look. For such a giant man, he did resemble a puppy extremely well.

"Whatever you want, darling." I started rolling my hips fervently, giving him no chance to ease into it. Clark gasped again, "Oh. Oh, s‒ slow, please, s'intense."

"Now you want me to slow down, Clark? You haven't made up your mind yet, huh? Well, you don't have to. You just lay there and look pretty, hmm? Can you do that, Clark?"

Clark flushed at the patronizing tone, but he still nodded his head, mumbling a 'yes'.

I continued my ministrations, but after a few moments, it was yet again proven to be too much for big, strong Superman. He whimpered out, "Please."

I coo'ed at him. "So polite. What, baby? Is it too much?"

My hands pushed at his chest, pressing him deeper into the couch. I could feel his cock twitch inside me. "It's‒ you're‒ oh‒ you're so mean," Clark whined out.

"You think this is mean? You have no idea how mean I can get, baby. But I won't, because you've been such a good boy."

Clark perked up at that, "I‒ I have?"

"Of course, Clarky. You made me come, for starters. Plus, no one knows about all the hard work you put into saving the city everyday. When's the last time Superman got some relief? Hmm? Does he ever get rewarded for his service?"

Clark shook his head, "No‒ hnng‒ no, he doesn't." It came out as a whine, even though he hadn't intended for it to sound so pathetic.

"Well then, I'll give him one. Do you think he'd like that, Clark? To get his reward?"

"Yes, yes," Clark nodded fervently, "He‒ oh‒ he'd like tha‒ ah!"

Clark's sentence was cut short by my lips back on his. I kissed him hard, his head pushed into the soft material of the couch, both my hands on his face. Clark moaned into my mouth, hips bucking wildly to chase his release. Then, my hips stilled completely, and I put a warning hand around Clark's throat to get him to stop bucking into me.

Clark groaned, dejected, "I was close."

"I know, baby. That's why I stopped." I grinned evilly at him.

"You are mean." I could hear the pout in his face, even without seeing it. I picked up my previous rythym, bouncing on his cock.

"I'll let you cum now, okay? How's that sound?"

"Yes. Please, I want to come. I've been‒ been hard since we began..." Clark trailed off shyly.

"Aw, baby, I know. You just really need that release, hm? You're so pent up‒ agitated, I'd say..."

I grinned as Clark groaned, hiding his face behind his hands.

'Tut, tut, Clark. I wanna see your face," I demanded, prying his hands away.

As I found my rythym, Clark continued to whine into my neck. Edging him seemed to have made him more sensitive; his noises got so loud, I started worrying about my neighbours.

"Clark, baby, you need to keep quiet. Can you do that f'me? These walls are very thin, you know. Imagine facing my neighbours after this."

Clark gasped loudly, "I‒ oh, I can't."

"You can't what? Can't be quiet? Pussy just feels so good, huh?"

"Yes, yes, feels so good!" He all but shouted, getting closer to the edge. My eyes widened at his volume.

"Clark." I grabbed his throat as a warning. "Be quiet."

This only seemed to turn him on more, bucking his hips up into me. "I can't, ca‒ can't think," he whimpered loudly.

"Going all dumb for me now, huh? Are you gonna come, big boy? Gonna fill me up, nice 'n full?"

"Yes, yes, ye‒ oh!" Clark gasped, eyes screwed shut as he canted his hips up more forcefully, almost knocking me off his lap.

I grabbed my panties next to us on the couch, stuffing them in his mouth to try and muffle his sounds at least a little. The moment Clark registered what was happening, his eyes grew comically wide. As my arousal reached his tongue, he moaned, long and loud, like he was already coming.

I stuffed two of my fingers in his mouth, too, because he was still so fucking loud. Clark gasped around them, and his hips moved more erratic, clearly chasing his soon-to-come release.

"Can I‒ please, can I come?" he mumbled around my fingers, voice cracking at the last word.

"let go, Clark, you can cum. That's what you want, isn't it? Creaming my pussy like this. That's all you're thinking of, hmm? It's a shame I never got to feel this fat cock before now, fills me up so good. C'mon then, give me your cum," I rambled.

Clark shut his eyes, mouth opening as he cried out, painting my walls white. Every gush of cum was accompanied by a wail, as he bucked his hips roughly, ensuring that his seed ended up deep inside me.

When his orgasm had washed over him, he stilled, breathing heavily. His eyes were still half closed, and it took him a few seconds to return to the land of the living.

"How was that for a reward, huh?"

Clark chuckled. "If I get this everytime I help you with something, you won't hear me complaining."

I laughed with him, "Yeah, I bet you won't."

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bleedingsunlight · 2 days ago

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Lion kaminski x Reader

All he wants is to belong to you, your Lion.

Inspired by This song

[★] Rated: Mature 18+

[★] Warnings: Porn w/o plot, Oral sex (fem receiving), Afab Reader, p in v sex, Unprotected sex, Dom/Sub relationship.

Masterlist

©bleedingsunlight 2025.

Thank you to @the-a-word-2214 for beta reading this for me.

Do not copy or repost my work!!

𝐑𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝐖𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊!

Your eyes glittered mischievously as you looked down at him.

Lion was on his knees, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides—fighting the urge to wrap his bruised hands around himself.

"Hmm, look at you, all leaking and pretty for me." You coo.

Your voice is coated with temptation and sugar.

You lean over him—bare and glistening with sweat, a malicious smile carved into your face.

He whimpered low and needy, cock twitching under your gaze. Pupils blown—blue eyes pitiful and glazed over with tears.

"Poor little Lion, you're a mess, huh?"

He was a fucking mess for you, always for you—only for you.

His brown hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his bruised face flushed, and his lips were bitten up and swollen from kisses.

"You wanna be my good boy?"

Lion nods frantically, hips uncontrollably rocking into the air.

"P-please, wanna be yours. I-I'll do anything, please."

Your grin widened; seeing him like this filled you with power that burned so hot you could feel it dripping out of you.

The desperation—the depravity.

He was yours, and that's all Lion wanted to be.

You walked over to the bed, lying propped up on it.

"C'mere, baby."

Lion crawled on hands and knees, dragging himself across the shitty motel carpet.

His eyes were glued between your thighs—how your cunt dripped and shone.

Spreading your legs, you grab his hair and pull him till his tongue is just out of reach.

"Do you want it?"

He tries to nod with your grip on him.

"Words."

He moans sharply when you yank his head back and forth.

"Yes, I-I want it."

Using the grip you have on his hair, you guide his head down to your fluttering pussy—open-mouthed and needy for you.

Lion licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, humming softly in pleasure.

"Make me come like a good boy."

He looks up at you from where he was buried in your folds.

His eyes alone sent a spike of lust through you—worshipping.

He wanted to be yours, the only one to touch you, taste you, and fucking feel you.

Lion's tongue curled into you, nose grinding into your clit.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider so he can lick deeper.

Pleasure bubbled deep and hot in your stomach, pulling moans from your lips.

Lion's mouth latches onto your clit—sucking it gently as your hips rock into his face.

He groaned into you, the bed shaking as he ground his hips into the side of it.

"Fuck Lion."

He pulls off with a wet pop—licking the suction-swollen bundle of nerves.

Taking one hand off your thigh, Lion pushes two fingers in and curls them up.

You jolt when he effortlessly finds that sweet little nerve, pulling him closer by the hair—moaning curses and praises.

Lion pumps his fingers in time with his licks, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His eyes watch you—half-lidded and full of lust.

He pulls sharp inhales of air, his face buried too deep into your folds to breathe properly.

Your head falls back, pleasure tingling in your veins.

"Just like that, my good boy—gonna come."

He picked up the pace, swirling his tongue in sweet circles—fingertips brushing that soft spot deep inside of you.

You were fucking his face, grinding your hips down onto his mouth with desperate swivels.

You couldn't speak anymore—gasps and moans bleeding from your lips like a symphony.

The pressure in your lower belly is steadily getting tighter and tighter.

Almost unbearable.

It was only when he gave another gentle suck that it snapped.

You screamed his name, your body tightening and thrashing against his mouth.

Lion didn't let up.

He kept going until you ripped him away by his hair—his mouth still searching for your quivering pussy.

He whined, laying his face against your trembling thighs—his fingers still in you, unmoving.

Lion looked fucked out.

His face dripping with your cum, panting with hazy eyes.

"Lion."

He hummed softly in response—brain still foggy.

"Want you in me...now."

You repositioned yourself to fully lie down.

Lion climbed up your body, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your bare skin as he went.

Once nestled with his hips slotted between your thighs, you wrap your legs around him.

"Can—can I kiss you?" He whispers—eyes glued to your lips.

You nod your consent.

Lunging forward, Lion's lips collide with yours almost painfully.

You can taste yourself on his lips, nibbling them gently. He whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to push your tongue in.

Your tongues sensually dance together—swapping spit and moans.

Lion's hips begin rolling forward, grinding his pulsing cock against your sensitive cunt.

He whines softly every time the head rubs over your clit.

"P-please, lemme in."

Reaching down, you grip him—feeling him jump and pulse in your hand.

Hle groans deep and desperate when you stroke once—twice from base to tip.

Lining him up, you tug him down with your legs—pushing him inside of you steadily.

"Fu-ck." He whines.

Lion trembles against your neck—chest heaving and hips jerking with barely there restraint.

"Such a good boy, Lion. My Lion."

His whole body shivers when you say his name possessively.

"Yours, 'm yours."

Shifting your hips down, you spur him to move.

He pulls out just enough for you to feel empty—and pushes back in.

Slow and deep.

Quickly settling into a quicker rhythm, his arms shaking, and his face buried into your neck.

You can hear Lion murmuring almost ineligible words against your skin.

"Feel s'good—Can't fuckin'—'m your's—Fuck."

Moans that sound like liquid sex leave his lips—mingling beautifully with your own.

Slowly, you feel another climax build itself up in your stomach.

You scratched down his back with your nails—making his hips stutter and his back arch pretty.

"Such a good boy—fillin' me up so good—makin' me feel so good."

He crawls out of your neck and leans back—his mouth devouring yours hungrily.

Lion's hips are slapping into you hard enough to make your teeth rattle.

"Oooh fuck, 'm close." You moan—stars bursting behind your eyes.

His eyes are locked on where he is thrusting into your warm body—his mouth parted and bleeding loud moans and curses.

You can tell he is close, his stomach taut, and his rhythm faltering.

Lion was waiting for you.

The knowledge of that made you clench down on him—fire burning through you in hot shuddery waves.

He works you through it, babbling praises and curses as your walls attempt to milk him dry.

But Lion stubbornly holds back—not ready to stop feeling the clutch of you fluttering around him.

He clings to you as he fights for control, his body shaking and tears falling in thick drops down his face

"Come for me, Lion." You coo softly—fingers stroking through his hair.

"Go on, my precious boy."

Lion makes eye contact with you—and you watch him shatter.

His entire body tenses as his thrusts turn erratic, his hips grinding into yours, trying to get deeper.

"Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—fu—"

With a strangled cry, Lion came—hips jerking forward with each hot spurt of cum.

Eyes rolled back—mouth gaping in pure ecstasy.

Slowly, he calms, collapsing on top of you in a fit of sobs—burying his face in your neck once more.

You mumble sweet praises to him as you run your fingertips along his trembling back.

"Did so good for me, My Lion."

"Made me feel so good."

"Such a good boy."

Lion's breathing calms from heaving sobs to trembling hiccups.

Almost reluctantly he pulls out, his cock soft and red, wet with the mix of you both.

He sits back on his heels, watching—mesmerized as his cum drips out of you.

Taking his fingers, he swipes them gently through your sensitive folds.

"Mine." He hums.

"Yours."

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