#kent smut

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[lillyrob]

Actual footage of me patently waiting for my favorite author to upload😫😫😫

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.

[barkbre]

Big beefy men who are lowkey pathetic for thick women >>> best trope known to man.

[cyber333angel]

BREEDING KINK WITH CLARK KENT !

a/n : very smutty obvi, fem!reader, daddy kink. mating press. enjoy >.<

it was hot. way too hot that your decorated rooms aroma was filled only with the smell of you and clarks sweaty skin sticking to each other, mixed with the breath hitching pants that came out of the two of you. your pleasure was only heightened with the feeling of him on top of you, weighing and pressing you down, making you feel so..caged in. he was unconsciously forcing you to really feel just how deep he was inside of you, thrusting into your soaked walls with his girthy dick and muscular arms. “haah baby, can feel you squeezing me so tight..” you were but it was only because of how pressured you were feeling, having to look straight into clarks eyes as he plows into you with his intoxicated gaze. he makes your head so blurry with the way he uses his dick and doesn’t even know it, “ mm s’good, feel you filling me.. so deep!” you whine out with your hands resting on top of his neck, hips senselessly flowing along with his as they move back and forth on the bed. “mm wait, t-too deep s’gonna reach-“ you sob, it’s like you could feel his dick messing up your insides, overstimulating but all the more satisfying.

you push at his abdomen with weak arms and squeezed shut eyes, getting cut off with a moan being pulled from your throat as clark brings you back with a hand on your jaw. “reach where hm? gonna reach your tummy? huh gonna-gonna let me give you a baby?” he was basically blabbering at this point, too pussydrunk to think rationally. and you mindlessly nodded your head along with your boyfriend. “yes please clark! gonna make you a daddy!” the sound of you and clarks skin bouncing off each other was disgusting, the slapping of his balls against your ass and the creaks of the bed under you.

clarks pace gets faster as he keeps thrusting into you, cock almost kissing your cervix while you hear a flow of pleads from above you. “you’ll let me cum inside right? promise it will feel so good angel-you have to let me fill you u-up..” and he just sounds so cute when he begs like that, of course he can, anything he wants. “yesyes please! wanna feel it so bad daddy..” that nickname only flustering him more and making your boyfriend bottom out in your pussy, forehead pressing against yours, “fuckfuck-“ seeing his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a frown. dick sloppily thrusting into you when you feel ropes of cum shoot into you, warm and in an abundance, you scratch at his back and squeeze your thighs around clarks waist.

“mph makin me feel so’good clark!” you say bucking your hips into him, making you feel his length so much deeper in your cunt and only making clarks whimpers louder as he finishes cumming inside. “too much-“ he winced, unconsciously still thrusting into you slowly while you rub your sensitive bud, cumming all over his dick with a cry as he holds your back. clark lifts you slightly until your sat on his lap, his face in the warm crook of your neck breathing heavily. you were sure your insides were a mess, filled to the brim of clark and you just finished too. your boyfriend looks up at you with his doe eyes and his slight smile, “what?” you giggle to him and he kisses the skin of your chest. “thank you sweetheart.” laughing even more when you realize he’s thanking you for letting him cum inside.

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[tinythebunni]

thinking about overstimulating Clark Kent!

Clark had always been strict with his morals. he knew what was wrong and right and tried very hard not to stray from that path. he wouldn’t even kill a spider in his room, simply letting it out the window and onto a tree. i guess you could say he was a goody two shoes.

He’s been used to girls fawning over him but he never paid much attention. he feared what would happen if someone noticed his inhuman like abilities. or what if he got too excited kissing someone and he accidentally lasered their eyes out?

Clark kept to himself and never tried to date. it was as if he was uninterested in it entirely.

you took this as a challenge though. you met him at the daily planet, around end of March. you were a cute little thing, almost 5’11, his ideal height for a girlfriend. he loved the tall girls as he himself was almost 6’6.

dressed in pink and white skimpy outfits, heels that could break someone’s neck, and a glare comparable to his heat vision. everything about you made him nervous. he couldn’t figure out why you had this effect on him, but he knew he needed to stay away from you. before he broke his own rules.

you always said hai to him and batted your lashes in a way that would make his cheeks flush and his dick twitch is his oh so cute slacks!

he couldn’t seem to get away from the overwhelming smell of your vanilla cupcake perfume and the slight smell of arousal that came from you everytime he was around.

it was like you were his own personal nightmare.

it took around 3 month for him to crack, for him to finally say yes to your dates that always had an innuendo to them. he couldn’t tell though, he thought maybe if he went on a date with you that it would end his torment. but he was so wrong.

—————-

“wait, p-please slow down! fuck-i can’t take it!!“ he moaned out, forehead slick with sweat. you had Clark undressed , with only his tie and white socks on. he looked so cute and innocent like this.

you were riding him, your cunt gripping him like a vice. you could feel his balls hitting your ass as you bounced up and down, the feeling only spurring you on more.

his heels were digging into the mattress of the shitty motel room you dragged him to. with each movement of your hips he seemed to slide down further on the bed, but your feet kept him grounded there, making sure he didn’t fall.

“i can’t, bunny please! f-fuck needyouneedyou” he whimpered out through moans, his hands trying to lift you off of him. you moved your hand to rest on his neck, your perfectly manicured claws forcing him to lay back down. he didn’t notice the strange amount of strength you had, nor the way your eyes flashed white for a second. “stop trying to run from me clarkie! jus-oh god, take it like a good boy. i know you can.”

the smile you gave him seemed almost sinister, as you sped up and kept him down. he cried out, hopelessly trying to pry you off him and keep you close all at the same time. you leaned down and licked the sheen off his chest, taking your time over his pink raw nipples.

his tongue lolled out his mouth, eyes glazing over and body getting increasingly more and more warm. your hand reached down to grip his balls in grip almost painful to him, tugging and massaging as he writhed underneath you. moaning out pleas that fell on deaf ears, he came inside of you, plugging you up nice and full.

he thought you’d finally stop, he’d already came 3 times and he was sure he had nothing left in him, but you leaned down, muffling his moans that slowly turned into wails. “waitwait! i came, mmm pl-please i can’t! it hurts! gimme a break, jus 5 minutes!” the overstimulation had him turning dumb. mind fuzzy in ways that only he knew kryptonite could do. it was almost supernatural.

you pulled him up into a sitting position, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, you kept fucking him deeper and deeper inside of you, chasing your own release. your hands were surely leaving dents in his back with how sharp your nails were.

shaking and spasming, you looked at him with blown pupils and a wicked smile, staring him in the eyes before you bite into his neck as you came all over him.

he was scared, understandably, as no one usually was able to penetrate his skin, but that was taken over by the immense amount of pleasure he felt after the bite. the slight warmth as you let go and kept grinding yourself down on him, overstimulating yourself. he looked down at were you were connected and saw the creamy white ring around his cock, dripping down his balls. he finally came for the last time with a dying out moan as he blacked out.

————————

when he finally came to, he was back in his apartment, in a nice robe clean and perfectly manicured, as if last night never happened. the only indication that it did? the mark on his neck and the note you left for him.

“i enjoyed last night, ill see you at work superboy! oh, and make sure to cover up that bite, don’t want anyone asking questions do you?”

[mariswxt]

where CLARK becomes obsessed with eating CINNAMON.ᐟGIRL’S pussy in a week.

DAY ONE.ᐟ

It wasn’t even a thought at first, with his track record with girls he wanted to take it slow so he knew it was a safe bet to fall head over heels for your pretty ass. Most he thought about was kissing your permanently balmed lips, kissing your cheeks, admiring your smile, playing with the folds of your clothing and how you always smelled like cinnamon.

An innocent thought.

And now, the end of the school day. When Clark could just come home, say hi to his mom and dad, then head up to the barn where he knew his girl would be waiting. And sure enough, as he jogged up the stairs to the top of the barn, there you were, readily waiting, dressed in your usual little baggy-looking top with the poofy sleeves that he didn’t know the name of — wait, it was a bustier top, as you’ve reminded him — with a little white skirt, a bow in your hair, bows on your gorgeous stockings with your lace-ups abandoned by the side of the bed.

Gorgeous.

But you were also working on the bio homework you’d got that day, so he raised an eyebrow, chucked his bag onto the bed and instantly got on to hug you to him and nuzzle your neck. “Clark!” You giggled, squealing and swatting his shoulder before your lips were caught up in his, hand resting gently on your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you started without me.” He pouted, pulling back to look at you with puppy eyes, but a peck from you earned his winning smile again. “C’mon, what are we lookin’ at?” He shifted you so you were on his lap, chest against his back, inhaling that natural scent of spice and sugar syrup from cinnamon buns.

You tapped the page with your pen, relaxing into it and beginning to explain the task, but something else caught his eye. It was a small thing, but he saw a flash of something, it was— it was white, and lacy, and he could see it from under your skirt—

Oh, God, your panties.

He had to drag his eyes away from the magnetic pull they had to that small glimpse of lace, casually sliding his hand up your outer thigh to push your skirt over that little sliver of white lace, that… tantalising view, there— God forbid your dignity be jeopardised if someone came up here.

Whew. Crisis averted.

DAY TWO.ᐟ

Crisis #2 was due soon — because obviously, no one could give him a damn break — when he was helping you tie up this pretty lil’ pair of heels you’d bought that were tied up by a ribbon. His fingers glided across your smooth skin as he wrapped the soft fabric around your ankle delicately, and it wasn’t until he gave you a gentle smile from below did he see up your skirt, and he nearly felt his heat vision activate from the sight.

Your choice of clothing was always so sexy, the pink lace that looked like a scrap on your skin, your supple thighs that he just wanted to— ay, woah, stop there. His thoughts screeched to a halt, and he sufficed that train of thought with a delicate press of his lips to your ankle when he’d made the bow to tie the last shoe and the whole ensemble together.

Why did his head feel kind of fuzzy?

There y’are.” He grinned, taking your hand and brushing his lips over your knuckle— your own Prince Charming, it gave you butterflies. Honestly? His head felt kinda heavy as he stood up and planted a gentle kiss to your lips— see, totally innocent. Totally, no alternate story or subconscious thought here.

DAY THREE.ᐟ

This felt wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

Something as simple as sitting and chatting with Lana and Chloe— you were sitting with your legs spread, skirt hiked up enough, your amiable look between him and the other three doing absolutely nothing to stop him feeling drunk on the position you were in.

Maybe if the others weren’t here, he could kiss up your legs, starting from your ankle. Why was he thinking all this— to combat it, he just gently tapped your foot with his, and you happily climbed onto his lap, legs around his waist and arms around his neck like you were a koala with a giggle.

He let put a sigh of relief, taking one for the team as he stroked your hair, inhaled your natural scent and took one for the team by taking the brunt force of all the good-natured ribbing from Lana and Chloe. All while his brain pumped oxygen back into it and made him stop feeling so goddamn light and airy just by seeing how you were seated, it felt so strange.

“Lovebirds.”

“I hear wedding bells!”

“Shut up, guys.” Clark’s jab wasn’t only to himself, it was to the rest of him which thought that being permanently brain dead around you was a good idea. God, this was not normal at all.

DAY FOUR.ᐟ

Clark found himself to be thirstier than usual. Literally, and figuratively.

He’d be hanging out with you, watching a movie, and when you did something like bite your lip or your skirt would hike up a little, he would mutter an excuse to go get water— not really an excuse, his mouth felt like it was two Saharas in one mouth. Glass after glass, and you’d seen him return after his fifth, which came with the mental reminder to lecture himself to not pop a boner. He had more control over his… anatomy!

Even with all the tall and endless glasses of water, something felt missing.

He went with you to the Talon to get lunch, and as he was sharing an apple pie with you, he couldn’t help but think his sweet taste buds weren’t satiated, and even as he looked up, his eyes got stuck on your pretty legs, where your skirt ended at your mid-thigh, and all you’d do was tilt his chin up and kiss him softly with a giggle, oblivious.

Oh, dear Lord, what was happening to him?

He was licking his lips more often, and his brain was more adept and conjuring thoughts of having you straddling something that was not his hips, or having you laid down on the couch and hearing pretty sounds come from you that he’d only heard when his mom and dad got too loud or when his mom and dad were watching an adult movie.

Guess Martha and Jonathan might be the common denominator.

Even so, he forced himself to avert his eyes when you bent over the table to give Lana and Chloe their coffees, your skirt lifting up just that bit— oh, mama, just drink the water, drink the water.

“Hi.” You giggled, perching yourself on his lap, and things would’ve been totally fine had his hand not autocorrected to find your ass— nope, he instantly moved it up to the small of your back and kissed your cunt cheek. He meant cheek, he wasn’t thinking about anything else, who ever— nobody— his brain was gonna shut up now.

His jaw clenched briefly, and he swallowed, deciding to give the farm boy smile like nothing was raging inside of his brain and peck your pouty, cinnamon-stained lips, fingers brushing across your soft cheek. “Hey, there. One’a those for me?” He’d been getting into cinnamon lattes now that you’d introduced him to them, so you were holding two piping hot cinnamon lattes that he looked down to.

And as he looked down, he could see your perfect thighs, and contrary to his drying mouth, he now had too much saliva in them.

He swallowed. Shit.

DAY FIVE.ᐟ

“Oh, my God, shit—” Clark couldn’t think straight, his nerve endings on fire, cause it felt so damn good, it felt so, so— he had no words. All he knew was that his eyes were rolling back, his mouth was open, his cock was most definitely leaking, and if his parents came up here they’d be very concerned.

He panted, the veins in his neck popping as his jaw clenched and a strangled grunt broke past his sealed lips, along with a needy whine. “O—Oh, sweetheart, that’s— don’t you stop, ok? Don’t you stop.”

He was getting images as his free hand clenched in the sheets, images he’d never had before until this week, of peeling your panties off your soaked pussy like they were the bow to your sweet present, of rubbing his nose against your clit as he gripped your spread thighs (or they’d be over his shoulders, he was not fussed at all) and lapping at you, licking you and letting his tongue delve and taste every bit of you until you could no longer comprehend that the outside world exists.

Judging by how much cinnamon you had, your cunt would probably be sweeter than your mouth. Just his luck that he’s got a tooth for that.

He tightly clamped his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle any sounds, but that didn’t work, it slipped out due to a shuddering gasp that shook his very lungs, your mouth— no, his hand, you weren’t here right now, his hand moving up and down his cock, which felt extra sensitive today.

Well, of course it felt extra sensitive, he’d practically been accidentally edged all day by your gorgeous ass when you sat back to his chest and way too high up his lap during the study session at the Talon, and so he’d shimmied you down to stop a moan from leaving his mouth.

Even as he moaned, he licked his lips and swallowed, like he was tasting something above him— oh, god, your pussy. It was so pretty, he knew that from the times he’d gotten his fingers there to soothe you after a bad day or when your brain wasn’t working on hard homework and just needed a reset. But he’d never tasted it or anything, he’d just wiped them on a tissue, and now it was the one thing — oh, God, just stop, this was objectifying, and Clark was a strong believer in a woman’s privacy.

“Sh—Shit—” He wanted to lick his fingers from now on, not waste a single drop of you, and that thought was the thing which sent him into a white hot fucking orgasm, head falling back against the pillows as he quickly caught the come that came from his cock with a tissue, panting and revelling in the ignorance and pure bliss that came before the reality that he just objectified his girlfriend.

He knew better, and you were so darling to him, he couldn’t. He should stop.

Your pussy—

DAY SIX.ᐟ

Was Clark on top of you, no shirt, forearm braced beside your head and lips attached to your neck a hot sight?

Yes.

It was a sight that made your thighs rub together despite yourself, and you couldn’t really ignore the growing ache growing inside you, along with the slight throb in your clit at the repeated, open-mouthed presses to your neck, jaw and behind your ear. His hands were on your waist, your hips, over your tits and thighs, then moved to the buttons of your cardigan, pulling back to look at you.

Eye contact was big with him.

“Can I?” He murmured, and when you nodded, he slipped the buttons off and gently took off your camisole, coming face to face with no bra. A small grin flickered across his lips as he looked up to you, head dipping down to kiss over your tits and briefly suck then into his mouth, pressing small, worshipping pecks which had you moaning softly, fingers threading through his hair.

The quiet whimpers that came from your mouth could only be frowned out by one thing— his mind repeating the word pussy and his body rewriting like it was the one thing he couldn’t live without. “Need to try somethin’, pretty, but you can tell me t’ stop, at any time.” He murmured, kissing your stomach gently.

You ran the possibilities in your upstairs brain, but your downstairs brain had the reins right now. “Yeah,” you mumbled in response, stomach flexing under his lips — ugh, so hot — as they slowly travelled downward, his fingers skimming down your sides to gently undo your sweats and hook his finger in your sweats and panties’ waistband, pulling them down and off your legs.

The wait to it was excruciating, he’d checked to see if you were wet as a sign that yes, you were enjoying this (which you were, you were soaking), and if the butterfly kisses were doing anything, they were making you impatient rather than easing you into it. “Clark, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay! I’ve got you,” He chuckled, then started with it. He began in slow, languid strokes, tongue flat and gathering all the taste of you on his tongue that instantly hit his taste buds— oh, my.

Oh, Lord.

The taste was heavenly, it was ambrosia, it was salvation, so much that he was already moaning at the taste and pulling you closer by how his strong arms were wrapped around your plush thighs, biceps flexing to the delight of your eyes from further up the bed, grinding against the mattress. Not to mention how he’d turned from hesitant to slow, burning, devouring in half a second, drawing the pretty moans from you that’d plagued his head the whole week.

The whole thing was new to you— you were a virgin, and you’d certainly never had anyone go down on you before, so Clark’s tongue between your legs had first been something that your body wanted to jump away from on reflex. But when said tongue slid into your pussy?

You could’ve died and gone to hell right there.

Jonathan and Martha (our famous common denominators) would’ve been traumatised by the obscene noises coming from you both, the groans and murmurs of encouragement from Clark to “keep it comin’”, about how you were “doin’ so well” and how you “tasted s’good”, all things that made you moan, gasp and whimper — now in that order — add a sprinkling of whines when his nose bumped your clit.

All he could think of was pussy, pussy, pussy, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips and thighs slightly, aiming to bury himself down there and suffocate if need be with your thighs pressed around his ears— it’d be a good way to go, now that he thought about it. A great way to go, abandoning all homework, your softness the only thing he could feel, your sweet taste… on his tongue…

Ok, his rational brain would be right back, after a long break.

“Cl—Clark!” You whimpered, hand tightening in his hair, the other making a fist beside your head, back arching, brow furrowing in bliss. It was such a gorgeous gasp of his name, the only thing he could give back to you was a needy whine. That’s right, needy.

He’d become an expert between three licks, his superhearing picking up on the small cues, the little tremble, the difference in this gasp and that gasp, until he felt you come on his tongue with a cry of his name and a loud whine, quickly sucking all of what you offered him up like his mom’s cooking. But sweeter.

As for him? If you weren’t too delirious from the new feeling, you would’ve seen a telltale stain of how he came in his pants— he couldn’t help it! You’d felt too good, his brain had fuzzed over, he’d ground against the mattress, there was no way he wasn’t getting off to you getting off.

”You did so well, pretty,” He grinned, lips and chin covered in you, the word pussy still ringing in his brain as he collected it all with his thumb and sucked it off, closing his eyes at the taste and moaning before leaning up to kiss you gently.

Only then did you taste yourself on his tongue— and you kind of saw the hype, what with how sweet it was, and even though it felt kind of weird to taste yourself, it was Clark. You trusted Clark.

He pulled away, grinning a saliva-lipped, winning smile and rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb, kissing your nose. “You ok, sweetheart? I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” You shook your head, voice quiet, still in a bit of a daze— oh, his pretty baby. That earned you a kiss to your forehead, and before you knew it, he was creeping off and coming back with a warm, damp rag.

“Let’s just get you comfy— attagirl,” He mumbled as he gently got you more comfortable on the pillows with his farm boy strength (or so you thought), shushing the whine of sensitivity when your thighs rubbed together. “Shh, baby, I know, I know, we’ll get y’cleaned up.”

Still keeping you pacified with a stroke of your hair or a peck to your lips, he managed to clean up between your legs with the damp rag without any pain, thank God, and chucked it in the washing basket before anyone noticed.

He also covered it with a bunch of clothes. Like, in the middle of the pile in there, before his mom saw it.

“C’mere.” He said softly, gathering you into a cuddle, tucking both of you in a blanket, whispering how good you were, how well you took what you got, how pretty you sounded.

Y’know, all words that made your pretty, empty head fuzzy enough to be lulled to sleep.

DAY SEVEN, TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE.ᐟ

A normal night of doing your English homework, steady essay writing that Clark wasn’t exactly equipped to help with, it was an essay on personal opinions about a set text. And it was going great, you were halfway there, your back would’ve been aching but no, some Lord above blessed you with an untouched back. Overall, things were going— your bedroom window opened.

Just as you were about to use your English essay as a weapon, you saw the familiar shoe of Clark, and you relaxed further into the bed, knowing you were safe. “Hey, babe— oh!” You gasped when he suddenly climbed onto the bed on top of you, nuzzling right between your legs as he kicked off his shoes with a low moan. “C—Clark, what’re you, what—”

“Shh, just please, baby, I just, I— shit.” He only responded by yanking your pretty sleep shorts with a bow on the top down, licking over your panties to taste you before yanking those down too— oh, you couldn’t hold back how you moaned and melted back into the throw pillows, panting as you let him do his thing.

You’d only had a break from him going down on you for a day, and even then you’d been asked by Chloe and Lana why you were so dazed lately. Now you had Clark mouthing and licking over your panties, until those were practically ripped off and his mouth replaced them. That was the reason why.

“Oh my, oh, gosh—” It spilled from your mouth in waves. Sucking, licking, at a much faster pace than a day ago, add a plethora of different pitched moans and whines, even more so when your hand buried in his hair. His fingers came up to toy with your clit, because he’d learnt that you dripped more when he did, and he was proud to say that he’d learnt everything there was to know about you, inside and out.

“Oh, Clark!” You gasped, hips arching off the bed, but then he suddenly pulled away, lips and chin covered in you, yanking off his jacket then lying down on the bed. He pulled you up, so you were straddling his face and your cunt was all he knew, yanking you down and holding you by your ass while he made you forget all sense of reality. It’s like he was obsessed with eating you out.

He kinda was.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding on his tongue, English essay clattering off the bed, breathlessly calling out to your parents that everything was ok so they didn’t come in and see… this. And even as he was devouring you like you were the tall glass of water he’d been looking for, you couldn’t resist reaching up, pressing your hand to your chest, playing with your tits over your thin camisole.

“That’s good, pretty, play with yourself.” Clark panted amid moans and licks and moans some more, “I’ve got you.”

Pussy. It was the only word that he could understand right now.

[yu-huuuu]

His hips never stopped their relentless rhythm, his thick, hard length slamming into your dripping pussy, his movements shook the bed beneath you both.

His large hand slid from your soft breast to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you against the bed, making you to take his tongue completely, the relentless touch of his lips against yours. "I could kiss you like this for hours", he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the soft sting with a sensual swipe of his tongue. "Could feast on the sweetness of your mouth, could drink down every last drop of your pleasure until there's nothing left to give"

He murmured almost sweetly. And you knew he wasn't lying, not when he looked at you so sweetly and made you feel so special beneath him.

[hanasnx]

“ SHE JUST WENT TO HEAVEN AND BACK ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content: riding dick ノ playing dumb for a boy ノ some light humping ノ reader has kinda long hair ノ size difference.

you’re so desperate for clueless CLARK KENT’s attention that you play dumb and get him to mansplain his video game to you while you sit in his lap. he’s been busy lately and to get him to take the hint you wear one of your shortest skirts, invite yourself into the best seat in the house, and ask, “what’s this?” gesturing to his lit tv screen.

he explains it all, some boring lore he’s really into and the controls and the tricky part he’s stuck on right now.. and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. his pretty girl is sitting in his lap and he’s not even paying it any mind. but clark is paying it mind. he’s rambling bcos he’s nervous, and if you’d turn your head you’d see the pink dusting his cheeks. he can feel your bare thighs through his denim, and your floral shampoo fills his nose… he trails off mid sentence when he focuses too hard on the growing interest in his pants.

“i wanna play.” you say when you’ve had enough of his aimless babble, and without thinking it through, clark places the controller snugly in your palms, while his larger hands overlay yours.

“alright, so this button…” his thumb atop yours presses down in a click, and you see the avatar swipe air with his sword because of it. “is your attack move… and this—“ you’re not paying any attention to what he’s teaching you. instead, your brain conjures up evil memories of everything you’ve been missing. your eyes wander to the corner of his bed he’s sitting on, and you wish he’d fold you over on it like before. wrestle you down and pin you so he could flip your little skirt up and get to work. you’re tuning out his words while he’s playing the game over your hands which dampen with sweat, suddenly hot and bothered at the thought of him fucking you in this position… if only he were brave enough to unbuckle his pants.

your lips press together, your heart rate quickens, and clark’s ears perk up. thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…

he inhales sharply, right as the sting of what it feels like to be filled by him shoots up your core like lightning. you jump in place a little at the cruel trick your mind is playing on you, and the friction of your ass bumping against his halfie makes it twitch as it chubs up. the avatar’s HP lowers little by little as its enemies overwhelm it, but neither of you move.

“why didn’t you say anything?” clark’s breathless words come out husky and sultry as he chuffs them out of his teeth, lifting you up and down by your hips like you’re nothing more than a weight at the gym. your hands lay atop his, twisting your face as that cock buries itself right where you needed it, bullying that spongy spot in you sore from neglect. “i’ve been thinking about you, too…” he fills the silence, paired with the wet sounds of an eager pussy swallowing him up. he yanks you back, and you land on his chest still clothed, your hair bunches up on his shoulder while his lips find your ear. your hips now married with his, he rolls yours, screwing his dick into you like he’s rediscovering all your nooks n crannies.

one arm rounds you to secure you against him in a warm embrace, seeking out your clit between your spread legs, toying with it like taffy and it makes you whine.

“you didn’t have to act like you cared about my game,” he’s taunting you, right in your ear, ending it with a gentle nip of his teeth to your shell. the point of his canine sends a shock through you, and your legs straighten involuntarily. he keeps you where he wants you with overpowering strength, you can’t raise yourself when he’s got you in a vice. his thumb and index feel cruel against your bud, as if chastising you for trying to trick him.

“well, it worked, didn’t it?” you exhale, leisurely squirming against him desperate for some movement. there’s pride in your voice.

“this skirt worked.” he corrects. the skirt now bunched up around your waist about the same time he’d pushed his denim out of the way so he could free his cock and give you a new seat. “could hear your heartbeat, you were so obvious… c’mere.” he grants your wish for more, pushing you forward so he could gather your arms behind you. bent, your feet barely toe the ground while he uses your wrists to leverage you, tugging you back while he bounces you up with the force of his hips.

[st4rfckerz]

“We can’t go all the way, Clark.” Your tone was tense, torn between caution and need.

“Just the tip, I swear. I won't...I won't go all the way.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to rein in his urgency. “I just need to feel you.” His hands gripped your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he fought to maintain control.

He moved slowly but steadily, inch by inch, so you could get used to his size. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he felt your walls flutter around the tip of his dick. He paused for a second, knowing that if he moved anymore he’d bust right then and there.

After remaining still for a moment, he finally started to move. He rocked his hips in a gentle rhythm, swollen tip sliding in and out of your warm, sticky cunt with deliberate, controlled strokes. But as he continued to move inside of you, feeling how wet you were just for him, he could feel his resolve weakening. His fingers dug into your flushed skin as he held you close, pulling your body against his so he could bury himself deeper inside you.

“I’m sorry, you feel so good,” He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he lost himself. It was too much, too good, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer at this rate.

You shouldn't have been surprised, really. Deep down, you had a feeling that Clark's restraint would only last so long. Maybe it was what you really wanted. Who knows.

[plethorawrites]

hey! what about clark who always makes you ride him because he’s afraid that with him on top he might hurt you cause he’ll lose control of his powers?

Oookkayyy. I believe I'm veering into some very precarious territory, lmao. But, yess, I do have thoughts! (NSFW content)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Despite the fact that Clark Kent was 6'3 (while slouching), 225 pounds, and otherwise incredibly built, he was perhaps the least physically intimidating person alive. In fact, he was practically terrified of his own features—the same ones that made you utterly melt.

It wasn't until you discovered his identity as Superman that you realized the reason his hands never actually touched you during hugs, and he preferred you holding his arm over holding hands with each other. He was afraid. He always had been, in a way, but it was usually manageable.

That was because he wasn't trying to pursue a relationship.

You were affectionate, craving attention in whatever form possible, from cuddling on the couch to just grazing his pinky with yours while at lunch. And you wished he would return it more than he did. He wanted to. He really did. It was just so damn hard when he was terrified to hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he did something that harmed you in any way.

The more physical your relationship became, the harder it became to reduce contact to the minimum amount he could get away with. You wanted more and so did he. But he could crush you without even meaning to, break your bones by just holding your hips, maybe even something worse than both of those things.

No, if you needed intimacy, he would gladly give it to you, since he wanted it just as badly, but he'd refrain from doing anything that could cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm. You, being on top, was the only sensible answer.

Not to mention, incredibly attractive.

You always were, but there was something about the angle, about him just laying there, staring at you, watching you get lost in your own euphoria that drove him insane. The way your hair kept falling into your face, your fingernails kept digging further into the skin of his shoulders or chest, how your eyes sparkled brighter than usual.

To say nothing of how you actually felt, your hips soft against his bare skin with every slight roll you made, grinding against him slowly to prolong your time together as long as possible.

He could barely handle your usual smile, but the one you were giving him right now, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress a little huff of laughter made his heart clench.

"What?" He wondered, his breathing a bit heavy. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his composure and was pretty sure you could tell.

You shook your head, your hands planted firmly on his chest while admiring the way his head always tilted when he was curious. "Nothing," you mumbled, the word taking a little while to find since you had to focus enough to remember how to speak. "You just..." Your lips pursed as one especially long drag of your hips made your breath hitch. "... You're like a pillow prince." You teased a moment later.

Clark's mouth dropped a little, in surprise but not offense. You weren't exactly wrong. He was laying there, his hands behind his head, watching you do all the work, like always. But it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he was itching to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his hands and it was taking all his restraint not to flip you over. He just couldn't risk it.

"Maybe I just like the view," he replied, his hips jerking up slightly when he felt you clench around him. His jaw tightened at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the feeling for a moment. "You—" he swallowed, his eyes opening. "—are you so perfect on top of me."

Another bashful smile spread across your face as you dropped your head and resisted the urge to move your hair, afraid that if he moved his hands, he'd lose control entirely.

"You like watching me struggle," you muttered, your hands moving to his shoulders to grip them tightly, your movements slowing to a stop, trying to catch your breath. "Admit it..." You panted. "... you're a sadist."

He laughed, his body shaking under you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured you. "You're doing good for me."

You hummed slightly at the praise, closing your eyes for a moment. "It's exhausting," you admitted, your legs killing you despite the enjoyment. "Always so... difficult."

"I know," he responded sympathetically, hesitantly removing his hands from behind your back, hovering them over your thighs for a while, contemplating before carefully setting his hands on them. He just couldn't resist anymore. You were too damn tempting.

You moved your hands to cover his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You gonna help me, for once?" You murmur, trying to joke but failing. The words came out with too much lust for that.

He nodded slightly, focusing on making sure his fingers didn't accidentally dig into your skin too hard. "Tell me," he said seriously, staring into your eyes. "The second I take it too far."

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "You're not going to hurt me," you whispered. "I trust you."

[stargrltara]

𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙈𝘽𝙀𝙍

·.✧ ✦ ✧.·

MDNI 18+

You loved pissing Jason off, you found it amusing watching him cross his arms at you and intimidate you with his figure. His body looms over you like a shadow, he’s massive compared to you. You love when he grits his teeth at your bratty attitude and when you defy him, he puts you in your place. He always puts you in your place.

Earlier, you were talking back to him, drinking all of his expensive alcohol and giving him immense attitude; he threatened to fuck some manners into you, you just scoffed, crossing your arms and glaring up at him although to you it seemed like you were physically bigger than him, like you had more authority. “You couldn’t even make me finish.” you smirked smugly, raising the bottle of whiskey to your lips, almost challenging him and knowing that was his last straw, knowing that your plan was gonna work.

·.✦.·

That’s why he had his thick digits plunged inside of your cunt, your ass rubbing against his hips as he firmly gripped your waist, keeping you glued onto his combat-clad lower abdomen. You tried to hold in your lewd whimpers, but it was impossible since he was shoving his fingers inside of you at a rapid pace, your back flat against his chest and head thrown into the side of his neck.

Your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape, though you kept back your helpless noises, his piercing, emerald eyes narrowing in irritant at you trying to hide your sounds. He quickly pulled his two fingers out, earning a breathy gasp from you as you felt so empty before he brang them up to your lips, his thumb pushing through your swollen lips from all the light whimpers, and he forced his two digits into your mouth. Your mouth opened wider at the sudden action, a pathetic moan escaping your lips as your tongue darted out and sucked on his skin.

“—see how wet you get from pissin’ me off?” he groaned lowly, his voice echoing through the bedroom and overwriting the trickling of the rain slapping against the glass windows. “fuck..” his voice a whisper, eyes widened when he watched your head bob up and down on his fingers, in disbelief at your eagerness and desire for more of him.

The hand gripping your waist snaked down your ribcage, fingertips sending electric jolts through your skin and leaving fire to ignite at its wake. A slap landed on your clit and you jolted, a groan leabing your lips and you shifting against his body, grinding on his abdomen shamelessly. “yeahhh, you love this shit, don’t you?” his voice extended, almost smug and teasing, but also cruel.

You didn’t respond, only repeated sucking on his fingers to get some sort of release but when he pulled them out and slapped your face lightly, you snapped back to reality and nodded. “mm..” was all you could murmur, but that wasn’t good enough for him.

Another slap, and you whimpered softly, “fuck you..” you managed to let out a short scoff, breath hitching and chest heaving. A dry, dangerous chuckle erupted from his chest, and you could tell he was pissed. Not only at your attitude, but at the way you were acting like you didn’t enjoy it, he saw straight through you, he knew exactly where to touch, where to lick and where to kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, low and rough. “I’m gonna make sure you remember who the fuck you’re talking to.” he groaned, sucking in a rugged breath before lifting his hips quickly and shoving you off him, making you fall flat onto the matress infront of you, your face now shoved into the blankets as you could hear the clanking of his belt falling to the ground with a heavy thud.

Your bare ass on full display for him, and a harsh smack landed on your skin, reddening by the second. He leaned over you, and you turned your head to glare at his naked frame behind you but it resulted in him interlocking his fingers in your hair and shoving your head back into the matress before he pulled down his boxers, his cock springing up.

“..gonna make sure you remember who I am, baby.” he whispered harshly, a merciless edge to his tone before he thrusted inside you without warning. A moan arose from your throat as you felt his full fat cock inside of you, “that’s it..” he groaned quietly, yet so rugged. His tip nestling itself so familiarly inside of you before he pulled out and started ramming into your right cunt at a harsh pace; deep thrusts hitting your cervix.

“Jay—“ your muffled moans seeped into the fuzzy blanket beneath you, your tears and saliva drooling onto the material. His fingertips dug into your waist, pulling you up slightly so you were in a face down as up position, one hand snaked up the small of your back, gliding up your neck and grabbing a firm ponytail of locks as he pulled you backwards, your back landing on his sweaty chest, your bodies glueing to each other.

“f—fuck..!” your voice was strained, almost worn out and your tits bounced rhythmically as his cock thrusted into you at a delicious new angle, his cock hitting your insides deeper and deeper, each thrust more forceful than the next. Your walls squeezed his cock so tightly, short gasps escaping your lips. His grunts grew stronger, and louder as so did your moans. Your hands flew to grip his thighs, manicured nails digging into his skin bound to draw blood.

He released your hair, instead wrapping his large bicep around your throat; his massive muscles hitching your breathing, lungs feeling empty as he knocks the wind out of them with each thrust. His grunts turned into groans, his hips slapping against your ass, the room filled with slick, unethical noises. “Next time you think about misbehaving..” he grunted between thrusts, “You’re gonna remember how i’m abusing your pathetic cunt.”

You let out a loud moan at his words, so mean yet so arousing, “..bet you cant make me finish—“ you muttered, using the last of your remaining breathe; the repeated words from earlier sent a wave of fire to crawl beneath his skin, but a warm pool to form in your stomach, your arousal dripping onto his length.

His silence spoke louder than words, but his pace spoke even louder when he began to impale into your guts, pushing your body back onto the mattress face down ass up as he gripped your ass, his fingertips left bruising marks. “mmghh..” your moans were nothing compared to the slapping of your skins, and his primal grunts, almost animalistic. “oh ! fuck—!! fu—“ your voice forming melodic, breathy gasps. Sweat beaded at his forehead as he deliberately drove into you without mercy, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

You were growing wetter and wetter, and he knew you were close. His hand snaked down to rub your clit, a lewd gasp rumbling from your throat while his digits flicking over your sensitive bud. “cmon’ baby, give it to me.” You felt his shaft twitch inside of you, the feeling striking electricity to your cunt when your moans grew louder and louder. “shit— I feel ya’ squeezing me, doll.”

“Jay—! Jason !” Your lips spoke his name so deliciously, so lustfully. Your orgasm hit you hard, your moan almost pornographic. Jason pulled you up by your hair to be able to hear the beauty that arose from your lips. He brought you into a deep, sloppy kiss, sparks of electric waved in your loins; mixed drool falling down your lips onto your chin, as he came inside of you. His groans muffled between your lips as you felt his seed shoot into you and paint your walls white, tying your souls together.

He pulled off of the kiss, breathing heavily and giving you last a few gentle thrusts to ride out the aftershocks. Your body fell limp against the mattress, stomach hitting the surface, and he just scoffed, but it was a soft, warm chuckle.

His palm came in contact with your hair, and he massaged your scalp sweetly, before leaning down, his hair tickling your back as he planted small, open mouthed kisses to the spine of your back. His hand snaked up your waist gently, careful not to be too rough, contrasting with his tough demeanour.

“—better have taught you a lesson, hm?” he mutters lightly, head tilting slightly as you huffed tiredly into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut. “..or next time I won’t go so easy on you.”

·.✧ ✦ ✧.·

[dementedkittenribbon]

Giving him sloppy head…18plus only.

Your soft lips around his cock cause his hand to dig into your hair as your tongue works him, your eyes watery and glazed over from taking your time memorizing his body with your mouth for several minutes. His hips jolt as your nails dig into his skin, giving him a little pinch of painful pleasure as you suck him like a lollipop, your own skin warm from building tension as your knees separate on the bedroom floor.

This is how you greeted him after a long, stressful day and he needed to take his mind off things and be your little fucked out slut. Your hands move to cup the back of his thigh, encouraging him to thrust into your mouth as you bob your head, taking more of his dick down your throat and swallow down the arousal pooling out of the tip.

“Mmm,” you moan against him and he taps your cheek with his hand lightly before holding your jaw.

“Fuckkk, baby. Taking me so fucking good.” He groans and jerk his pelvis, hitting the back of your throat. “You’re a fucking whore, you know that?”

His dirty words do nothing but turn you on more, your pussy dampening inside your underwear as you deepthroat him and he pulls out his phone, the camera flashing.

“My favorite view,” He rolls his center again, getting closer as you continue your motions, your hands going to massage his balls as he throat fucks you. Your concentration grows a little sloppier at his porn level sounds echoing in the room, causing your cunt to tighten around nothing as he suddenly cums in your mouth, it pools from the corners and drips onto your neck and chest.

“Fuck!” He yells out as you work him through it, your hands sliding to pump him before he yanks you up and throws you onto the bed, on all fours.