Contains: Aged up characters, Slight mention of violence, adorable
Story: Y/N want to go see twice and your boyfriend would like to spend quality time together so why not bring him to the concert.
Chifuy
• Don’t even need to ask him. He already bought the tickets when he heard the announcement for the tour.
• He packed extra batteries and even provides you with a banner for the concert.
• At the concert some of the girls that are standing near bye keep looking at him while he is singing word for word to “Fancy” .
• He has already become a favorite among the other girls
• You get a little upset since he is being very friendly with the other fans. He notices this and decides to pull you closer to him and start slow dancing. Placing kiss on your forehead and whispering about how he is having a great time with you.
• 10/10 recommend to go with him
Sanzu
• He didn’t want to say no since your friend bailed on you , but this isn’t want he wanted to spend his time doing.
• He has already scared off a few fans around you once inside the venue.
• He decided to leave you since he isn’t enjoying himself and head to the back for a while.
• When he comes back you are dancing with a few fans and jumping up and down with a guy who is a little to happy leaning close to you.
• He yanks him back and start cursing him out.
• Quickly jumping in you break the fight apart and pull him back. A slight argument breaks out between you guys and security comes over asking you guys to leave.
• Luckly you don’t get banned from the venue
• However you just waisted some money
• -1000/10 concert experience
Draken
• Doesn’t understand the interest in the group but doesn’t want to argue with you so he comes along.
• He loves seeing you happy so he will pick you up placing you on his shoulders.
• After a while you feel bad for the other fans and ask him to place you down so you don’t block them.
• After a few songs he is dancing with you and waving the light stick in the air
Kazutora
• Kaz is super sweet and clingy so its expected he would be going with you to the concert.
• He didn’t bother to learn any names or songs since he will be spending the whole time cuddling you.
• Expect some jealous looks since Kaz is happily clinging to you with headphones in.
• After a while he will get bored and attempt to get you to leave or pay attention to him.
• Knowing how his emotions can get you decide to entertain him for a while.
• “The Feels” is being performed and you are singing the song to him and dancing in front of him.
• He leans close to you grabbing the back of your neck bringing you close for a kiss. “You look so beautiful “he whispers in your ear
• After the concert he is very eager to listen to the album
• “We should do this more often”
Hi! I was wondering if you could do more poly Cullens? i really enjoy your other ones but its tots fine if not! I really love your work tho 😋✌️
Chronic Illness
(Poly! Cullens x Sick! reader)
'You can't sleep because you're having a sickness flare up. The Cullens know just how to look after you.'
You lay in the oversized bed, staring at the ceiling as another wave of nausea and ache rolled through you. Sleep had been teasing you for hours: close enough to taste, but every time you drifted, your body yanked you back with a spike of discomfort. The blanket felt too heavy; the unnaturally quiet hum of the house (even though you were used to it) only amplified the pounding and swirling thoughts in your head. You tried to tune into Bella’s soft breathing, but nothing stopped the noise of discomfort tonight. You’d just have to get up.
With a soft sigh, you slipped out from beside Bella (with whom you often shared a bed, since you were the only two who slept in the house), careful not to wake her. Your bare feet padded across the cool, wooden floorboards as you made your way downstairs, one hand trailing the banister for balance. The house was dark and still, but you knew better than to think you were truly alone. Halfway down, you heard the faint rustle of movement— or rather, you felt a presence. Jasper appeared at the bottom of the stairs, golden eyes glowing softly in the low light.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked gently, a wave of calm already easing in as he felt his way around the edges of your pain. You shook your head, leaning into him when he offered his arm. “Just… feel like shit tonight,” you scoffed. “What’s new.”
Before Jasper could reply, Carlisle stepped out from the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand and a small pill in the other. “Edward mentioned you were feeling unwell,” he said, eyebrows furrowed with that calm and earnest concern that years’ of bedside manner had taught him. “We weren’t sure when you’d be down, but Alice didn’t think you’d fall asleep.” He swept across the room— something you were mostly used to, but still found slightly unnerving when Carlisle or Esme did it, being the most ‘human’ of the bunch— and pressed the glass into your hands. Slipping the oil into your hands with a firm look, his cool fingers brushed your forehead to check for fever. He hummed in approval, satisfied you weren’t too sick.
As you swallowed the painkiller, Esme emerged from the living room looking mildly concerned, and wrapped a soft throw around your shoulders. “Come sit with us,” she murmured, guiding you toward the wide couch, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Alice was already there, knees pulled to her chest, patting the spot between her and Rosalie, who was playing absentmindedly with her hair— until you stepped in, and her face lit up with adoration.
As you entered, you felt a whoosh of air pass you: Emmett had shot down the stairs with a mountain of pillows from his own bed (rarely used, unless you fell asleep in there), and began arranging them with surprising delicacy on the sofa between the girls. “Can’t have our Princess uncomfortable,” he teased, though his eyes were full of love as he helped you settle. Usually, he’d sweep you off your feet and place you where he wished, but tonight he just hovered nearby, worried you were too delicate for rough housing.
Edward drifted in last: you guessed he had already sensed the specific flavor of your discomfort. “You to blame for all this?” You smiled at him, gesturing to the scene of absolute devotion before you: every member of the Cullen coven strewn across the living room with various items to help you through tonight. “Sorry. You know I can’t help myself,” he smiled coyly. You didn’t reply: you knew he could hear your gratitude without you saying it aloud.
Jasper kept your calm steady while Carlisle adjusted the heating. Surrounded by their quiet voices and gentle touches, the feeling of sickness still lingered, but it no longer felt quite so heavy in the dark. Soon enough, you drifted off under their gazes, warm and loving despite their cool blooded nature.
A/n: No one asked for this. I just can't stop thinking about having babies with Clark, see evidence here...Requests for this...series? idk, whatever it's called, are open! If anyone is interested.
pairing: clark kent x f!reader
this is just a quick(ie) little smut.... i was inspired by supergirl but there's not any spoilers i just got an idea... please.... send me some more ideas for clark... i cant stop thinking about him... and ive been watching smallville again too :P
warnings: piv, creampie, clark talks you thru it always, multiple orgasms, i need him so bad
Each of your words is punctuated by a kiss. “I mean, I really am glad Kara’s staying. Don’t get me wrong.” You assure, fingers sliding to grasp onto Clark’s curls. “It’s just—“
He’s nodding along with your words, “Uh-huh. No privacy, honey.” He’s kissing along your neck now, fingers teasing at the bare skin when your shirt rides up underneath him.
“And if it’s not her, it’s the dog.” You grumble, throwing your head back in exasperation, but giving Clark more room to suck a hickey into your neck. He bites just right till he’s soothing the pain with his tongue, licking a long stripe back up your neck.
“Uh-huh.”
It’s not that Clark doesn’t want to keep talking, but he knows he only has so much time with you. It’s been quickies or risky sexy for the past week. At least Kara is apartment hunting now, but considering he had unrestricted access to you before; now it’s nearly impossible. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on like this.
Especially now, a hand slotted against your mouth as he ruts into you after pulling as many orgasms he could from you before the throbbing of his cock was impossible to ignore. She’s not home yet. His ears haven’t picked up on the sound of the lock turning, but if his hearing goes so far, he can only imagine hers. “I know, pretty.” He reassures, watching the way your pupils dilate. Your breath comes out of your nose, fast and hard, trying to contain yourself. The room is soft groans, whimpers, his words glide over your skin like a secret. You’ve become so used to moaning Clark’s name like a prayer. “I want to hear you. You know I do.” He grunts, his words accompanied by his thrusts.
Clark’s hand unfortunately can’t cover the lewd sounds filling the room as your pussy grips him. There’s a small puddle of slick underneath you from the other orgasms he had pulled out of you. There was so much pent up want and need between the two of you. It wasn’t much of a challenge for him. You’re soft and pliant beneath his hands now. “Come on, sweetheart. Give me another one.” He’s pleading, wanting to chase after your release with his own. There was no better way than feeling the way you throbbed around him after an orgasm. Just the right amount of pressure, your body alight from his actions. Your pleasure became his own.
As soon as you succumb to the pleasure, he’s following soon after you, whispering praises along with his sloppy kisses. “That’s it, that’s my girl.” The squelch from his own spend and yours fills the room as he pushes his come further into you with his thrusts. “Gotta give it all to you. Don’t know when I’ll get a chance to do it again.” And Clark after an orgasm is even more touchy, wanting. His hands teasing your sensitive skin. He’s lost in it. All he can see is you. All he can feel is you.
The hand against your mouth is forgotten, his mouth is slotted over your own instead. You practically swallow his words. His cock is still hard inside of you as he begins teasing the bundle of nerves between you. You’re so sensitive, you hiss. “Clark. I–”
Lois and Clark are both munches; they are like absolute beasts when it comes to eating that kitty. They're pussywhipped for you, and they aren't ashamed of it.
Sometimes you have to bat them away with a stick because they're that desperate.
And Clark is just in heaven because he's pussywhipped for Lois too, but he has to work for hers…You don't. Just ask for her to sit on your face and she'll gladly take her throne—her rightful place, at least in your opinion.
Yes, they do bicker about who gets to eat you out during sex. Yes, it's annoying, and yes, it ends with them both between your thighs.
song rec.: the cure by Olivia Rodrigo & O Sol e a Lua by Pequeno Cidadão
Incident Report: (heavily inspired off of Last Stand) You thought a few years in mourning was enough to dull the memory, drowning yourself in alcohol and cigar smoke to calm the pain in your limbs and the ache in your heart. Jean had killed all of them—and you had killed Jean after it was far too late. Wanting a fresher start, you’d packed your things and moved to Metropolis, holing up in a shabby apartment in Hob’s Bay. Your debut as Wolverine took the Daily Planet by storm, catching the attention of Superman as he tries to soothe those wounds that still ache beneath the surface.
warnings (pls comment if I forgot any): smut, unprotected p-in-v, creampie, blowjob, reverse cowgirl, squirting, improper use of pheromones and erogenous zones, r is aggressive like a wolverine, yearner clark kent, r is emotionally shutoff, LOTS of plot, tons of angst and mourning, all the x-men are dead except r.
Superman, if described in one short word, would be called kind. He protected Metropolis with his life, sacrifices himself for the biggest and even the smallest of creatures. That farm-boy from Smallville, Kansas developed such a sense of love for the Earth he wasn’t even from.
People adored him, that golden boy drenched in sun with sparkling dimples in his cheeks. Children dressed as him for Halloween, news reporters fawned over each piece thrown together by journalists, and generally, most admired him—well, all except one.
This other superhero who went by the name of Wolverine, drenched in royal blue, gold, and pure brooding.
He’d first spotted her chasing down a man who’d ripped the bag out of an elderly woman’s hands, mid-flight and ready to serve justice—only for the thief to be brutally tackled and sent to the hospital with a busted nose. Press went insane, speculations arising regarding who this new superhero was and if she’d join Justice Gang.
Clark received stories about her constantly at the Daily Planet, sightings, tons of critique, and equal amounts of support (which included Clark himself). Admittedly, he was fascinated—not by the fact that there was a new superhero but because he had not spoken to her once, not even a quip in passing. She kept to herself, apparently had told Guy Gardner to fuck off after he offered her a place in the Justice Gang—which ended those speculations pretty quickly.
In three weeks, Superman was actively seeking out Wolverine like a lost puppy—though he denied it when Guy would comment on the way he hovered farther and farther from central New Troy into Hob’s Bay.
Hob’s Bay was Wolverine’s most frequented district, the large skyscrapers of New Troy transitioning into rundown apartments and lopsided infrastructure. It wasn’t as glamorous as Hell’s Gate or Queensland Park, but the people who lived there needed help the most.
Hob’s Bay, otherwise known as Suicide Bay, had been infamous for its high crime rate and its low police activity. The mayor turned a blind eye to the people’s suffering, focusing funds on LuthorCorp, which backed majority of the infrastructure projects in the city. If there was one thing the Wolverine despised more than the crappy police department in Hob’s Bay, it was LuthorCorp.
Maybe that’s why on a random Saturday evening, she finally left Hob’s Bay as a giant machine tanks were trampling New Troy. Clark had been caught up with work at the Daily Planet, balancing his secret identity with his work life had grown tough over the past few months with the influx of stories entering and leaving their hands.
Rumbling in the streets were the first thing that alerted him of something being wrong, next was the sound of screams—then an explosion, fiery hot and angry. He’d managed to pass it off as journalism work, slipping out the back of the building as he stripped himself of his work attire into that familiar scheme of red, blue, and gold.
The ground shook with the each rotation of those heavy metal wheels, cracks in the concrete deepening as their engines burst alive and released exhaust. Soon, the tanks stalled—stilling head on at something that was at first blocked by jagged edges and oxidized bulk.
Superman’s cape billowed as he shot up into the sky, air curving around him as he cut clean through until he was finally able to see what was ahead. That familiar royal blue and gold caught his eye immediately, then that sickening red.
Wolverine swayed slightly as a small child, no older than six, stood tucked away behind her. Blood dripped down her left arm, or moreso her lack of arm. The right was burned crisp, caught in crossfire and the flesh was an angry red beneath the cracked skin. Three blades stuck out from between reddened knuckles, breathing ragged within her chest as her teeth were gritted together painfully tight.
Clark had seen violence before, had seen the wounds that formed when LuthorCorp was allowed to push the boundaries of humanity. He’d felt the anger, the sorrow that cuts deep and sits in one’s chest, festering. He could see that same anger within Wolverine’s eyes as she stumbled back for a moment, steadying herself on an ankle too twisted and mangled to be stable.
“Golly, are you okay? You need to get out of here, you’re hurt—.”
“You’re late, Supershit.” Her teeth were remained gritted as she spat out the annoying nickname, not full of hatred but not exactly fond either. Wolverine’s eyes flickered down behind her, taking in the little boy’s shaken state—far too young to truly process the danger he was in. There was a pause in her voice as she coughed, blood dribbling past the corner of her lips before she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. “Get the kid out of here.”
The words were spoken more in a rasp than an actual sentence, but Clark took one look at that little boy and knew. His voice was as gentle as the breeze as he kneeled down, heart tugging and clenching at the shaky hands that quickly grabbed onto his own.
“Let’s get you home, buddy.”
Superman shot off into the sky with that tiny form burrowed between his arms, heart beating double the speed of his own.
A street over, a mother stood in her front lawn—heart hammering within her chest as she searched both ends of the street. Her lips parted in a shout of a name the child in his arm’s immediately recognized, scrambling to touch that familiar freshly mowed grass the moment Clark’s feet grazed the surface.
The mother’s eyes fell upon that little boy and relief flooded her face, feet stumbling over themselves as she scooped her son into her arms. Her mouth spilled out words of appreciation, scolding her son in between each phrase.
Superman remained just long enough to watch them enter the safety of their homes, door swinging shut against its frame before he rose into the sky again. He hovered through the clouds, weightless as he soared—eyes endlessly scanning for the tanks, but the further he flew, the more he was unable to sense them.
Guy Gardner stood in the center of a ring of journalists and paparazzi, a sea of cameras snapping angles to shove into their latest story. Superman hovered for a moment before landing beside him, Guy’s words lost in his ears as he spoke to one of the reporters. “What happened to the tanks?”
Guy didn’t look at Clark as the paparazzi continued to snap photos, simply just tilting his head toward Hobsneck Bridge.
“Why don’t you go ask wolvy over there?”
Charles would’ve scolded you for smoking after a mission, would’ve told you it was a bad habit in some philosophical way that made you question the world. You didn’t give a damn, never did—but ever since moving to Metropolis, you’d begun to miss the way he’d scold you.
Your arms and legs hurt like hell, freshly healed skin stretching thin over aching bones. Your mask clung to the sweaty skin of your face. The sun was too bright, reflecting off the water and directly into your eyes but your ankle was too fucked for you to actually stand—so you sat, legs spread out upon piles of junk metal that were once tanks.
You blinked once, then twice—eyes watering as a cloud that blocked the sun floated out of the way, blinding you once more. After the second blink, you’d given up, opting to lean back against that rather uncomfortable cushion of bars beneath you as your eyes closed shut. Birds chirped as they floated to their nests atop the bridge, waters swaying and splashing against the posts. If you weren’t in so much pain, you might’ve found it relaxing—hell, you’d been in pain so long with this damned mutation that having your arm exploded off was the least of your worries.
A shadow, one far too deliberately placed, suddenly blocked the sun from your eyes. Opening your eyes rather reluctantly, Superman stood in front of you—tall bulking figure working as the perfect reprieve from the sunlight, except now he looked like a damn comic book cover of a superhero. His hair was perfectly curled, dimples etched into his cheeks as a smile was wedged into his lips.
For such a large guy, he seemed weirdly small just standing there—waiting for you to notice him like a puppy needing attention. You snuffed the cigarette onto the pile beneath you, shifting as you released an almost ungodly groan for your age, rolling up to sit straight. As much as you wished you could’ve sounded nicer, which you didn’t, exhaustion had already ate away at your body and you had a shift that started in approximately… half an hour, and you were covered in blood and shit. “What?”
“Hi,” He seemed to become brutally aware of how eager he sounded right after he spoke, clearing his throat as he tried (and failed) to shift into something more casual. “Uh… Hey. You’re really good.”
“…thanks.”
“No—like shockingly good.” Superman shifted side to side, his words growing less confident by the moment as if you were going to punch him for just breathing wrong—which you might for that comment.
You were quick to raise a brow, a chuckle catching in your throat as you watched his face drop, panic flooding his oversized form. “Surprised I can keep up with you, Superman?”
“No, no—! I’m sorry, I apologize. Uhm, I just…” Superman trailed off, brows furrowing as he thought of what to say—what words would remedy the apparent wrongdoing he’s committed. “I haven’t spoken to you at all since you started patrolling Hob’s Bay.”
“Yeah, you haven’t. Didn’t think that’d be a big deal to you, Wonder Boy.” Your ankle was almost fully healed, pain subsiding into an odd tingle as you crossed one leg over the other—eyes tracing from his boots up to his face, to those eyes as clear as the ocean. Fuck, he was perfect.
“I like to know who I’m workin’ with.”
“We aren’t a team, bub.” You were quick—far too quick to answer. You didn’t like teams—hadn’t liked them since the incident, since… you quickly blinked away the memories that ate at your mind.
The words were grossly sincere leaving his lips, eyes softening far too much. Meeting his gaze with your own, you began to understand just for a flicker of a moment why people loved him so much—why he was the comforting presence that blanketed the city and not someone like Guy Gardner. “I know, but I’d like to think we could be.”
That softness seeped into your bones, tugging your heart in a way that made you nauseous—biting back the feeling with a sharp drawl of air into your lungs. “Yeah… uh, you know, I’m not exactly big on the whole chit chat thing. So… I’m going to leave now.”
You stood, rolling your ankle once before applying your weight onto the limb. It felt fine, a little bit sore but stable enough to carry your ass back home and through your shift at the Ace O’ Clubs.
“Oh,” His posture hunched like he was mentally scolding himself for scaring you away, voice slipping into an almost pathetic pitch. “Okay, well… bye! See you soon!”
“Yeah…” You began, carefully navigating past jagged pipes and slabs of various metals. Hobsneck bridge, though connected to the technical slums of the city, had one of the most gorgeous sunsets you’d ever seen—the glow reflecting across the minimal amount of skin your costume showed. “No thanks.”
As much as Superman seemed nice, you weren’t exactly big on the idea of Big Blue tagging along with you for missions—in fact, you want him to stick to New Troy where he belonged. He was a superhero—you weren’t. You never considered yourself that beautiful beacon of hope, you were just a mutant, someone unfortunately born with powers—someone whose team died because of those powers.
The whole situation at New Troy had set you back twenty minutes for your shift, still stuck at your apartment scrubbing dirt, blood, and whatever the fuck else off your skin before messily throwing on your dingy polo and slacks.
The bar was exceptionally busy each time there was a Superman sighting, the owner himself probably being one of his biggest fans. You had regulars, of course, a couple who was too damn touchy but tipped you too well for you to say anything, a group of women who always left more sober than when they arrived somehow, and Jimmy fucking Olsen.
You don’t know how Jimmy did it, but each weekend he’d show up to the Ace o’ Clubs with a girl on his arm that was an absolute smoke show—so hot it burned and he was just… there. Then he’d come back the next day, have one too many shots of vodka before telling you all about how the last girl was sweet but “too much for him”. It was like clockwork at this point, but at least he tipped decently and genuinely thought of you as friend.
Hell, sometimes he’d even ask you about your own life—as stagnant as it was besides the whole mutant gig.
“Nothing much, just been dealing with work.” You swiped a towel over a freshly cleaned glass, soaking up droplets as Jimmy rested his head into the palm of his hand.
“You say this every damn time.” Jimmy groaned out before taking a long sip of a vodka cranberry you’d made half an hour ago. “Keep your secrets, but you’ve gotta be getting laid at least once in a while.”
“Maybe I don’t stick my dick in everything that moves. Seriously, these chicks are too pretty for you.”
Swinging the towel over your shoulder, you put the glass into its designated spot. Admittedly, working as a bartender wasn’t exactly ideal but there was a flow to it that you appreciated. As you took the order of the next group, Jimmy continued to whine and complain about his romantic life.
“I know—I know, they’re like, goddesses. And they get so attached after like, one date.”
The look that came across your face was nothing short of peeved as you slid the man beside Jimmy his drink. “Holy shit, you’re literally just bragging right now.”
Jimmy hands raised as his shoulders shrugged. “I’m not! Imagine how it feels to have someone obsessed with you after just talking once!”
Embarrassingly, your mind immediately drifted to that familiar Wonder Boy drenched in red, gold, and blue—how his eyes were so keenly focused on you. It wasn’t rocket science to know he was at least minimally fascinated by the Wolverine, but it was just that—a childish fascination with a fantasy ‘hero’.
When you snapped back to reality, and to a rather annoyed Jimmy, you turned on the glamour—fanning your face dramatically as you plopped olives into martini glass. “Oh, my name’s Jimmy, life is so hard having so many women fawn over me.”
“Dude.”
“What? That’s literally how you sound.” You didn’t even try to feign innocence as you served your last order for now, shifting to where your hip was resting against the counter across from Jimmy.
“Whatever.” The Ace O’ Clubs never failed to be busy on a Saturday night, but especially not after Superman’s arrival earlier. You’d be raking in tips till three AM, but for now, it was nice to feel like it was just you and Jimmy—talking like friends, even if he’d never know everything about you. “By the way, I invited a friend along tonight. Try to be nice to him.”
A friend? You were tempted to remark that Jimmy didn’t have friends and this guy surely had to be a hallucination, but there was a certain sincerity in his posture as he spoke—like he was scared you’d tear his friend to shreds like a pack of hyenas.
You scoffed out, turning your back to Jimmy as you got to work once more. “I’m always nice.”
Thirty minutes later, a man came awkwardly pushing through the drunken crowd. Jimmy introduced him to you as Clark Kent, the Smallville farmer’s boy with a heart too big for his body (which was admittedly, also massive).
“And this here, is the worst bartender in Metropolis.” Jimmy chuckled as he downed his second glass, cheeks rosy and flushed in the dim lighting of the Ace o’ Clubs. “But she listens to me, so we tip her well.”
A grunt left your lips as you eyed Jimmy, gaze soon tracing up to meet Clark as he sat down—hands clasped together far too politely for the type of place he was in. You flipped your towel over your shoulder once more, gliding over to the countertop as you jutted your finger out towards the most flowery drink on the menu, something in your gut recognizing that look on his face, that familiar furrow of brows as he thought too hard as his tongue pushed against his cheek.
“Try the Dirty Shirley.”
Three drinks later, Clark was still sober as ever and Jimmy was passed out on the countertop.
“So, you work at the Daily Planet with Jim-boy over here?” Your hip was slotted comfortably against the wooden surface, elbow supporting the weight of your upper body.
“Yep.”
“Is he also a mess at work, or does he just reserve that for me?”
Clark took a moment to think, lips puckering around the bright red straw before releasing—arms coming to rest up on the countertop parallel to yours. “He’s a mess, but maybe less of a mess during day hours. Lois tells him to zip it all the time.”
You snapped your fingers as if you had just solved a mystery. “Damn, so that’s why he tips me so well.”
“You’re also just a good bartender,” Clark chuckled beneath his breath, stirring sweet syrup within his cup. He was weirdly sincere almost all of the time, voice far too soft spoken like he was overly conscious of his existence. “but you listen to his guy-talk, so I guess he’s biased.”
“Bub, I have no problem with bias if it pays my bills.”
The bar had begun to clear out as it got later in the night, the regulars already drunk off their asses and stumbling out the door while the last few remaining customers had gravitated toward plush booth seats rather than the hard wooden bar stools.
Clark took a glance around, blue eyes still somehow extremely striking even with the glare of lights upon his thick rimmed glasses. Something about his mannerisms and his scent was familiar, right on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite place it. “You work here full-time?”
“Yeah, for the last year.” You pushed yourself from the counter, grabbing a glass you’d already cleaned but figured what harm could one more scrub do. “How’s work at the Daily Planet?”
He drank down the last few sips of the Shirley, red liquid disappearing between puckered lips before that familiar empty noise filled the space between. You were quick to hand him a napkin, eyeing the bit of grenadine that had pooled at the bottom of the cup and stuck to his lips like a gloss. Clark wiped his face, gaze following yours with a terrifying accuracy that made you break eye contact almost immediately before clearing his throat.
“Honestly? Stressful, a bunch of deadlines and with all this Wolverine content coming in, it can be difficult to keep up.”
“People are talking about Wolverine?” You stilled, hand tightening around the slick glass in your palm.
“Yeah, all the time! Everyone wants to know who this new superhero is. I mean, she is pretty cool—and strong… and amazing.” Clark spoke with this almost dreamlike cadence, like she was his school crush. You swore you saw his eyes visibly sparkle just at the mention of your hero persona, shoving down the urge to roll your eyes.
“I don’t think she’s that cool.”
His posture straightened, brows furrowing once more as his once starstruck look was replaced by skepticism. “Really? I mean, she took down a bunch of tanks without any help.”
“Someone like her should be helping people who can’t help themselves, it’s not rocket science. It’s not something that needs an audience.” Charles had always emphasized how, as someone with… special abilities, it was your job to help those in need the most—to be the hero people needed. Shit, even six feet in the grave, you still heard his voice telling you about how you needed to stop hiding yourself. In truth, you fucking hated these powers—despised them. Not because they made you different, because you were too damn weak to control them even when your team needed you most.
“Where I’m from, people like her… they’re shunned—mutants. Some of them manage to hide their powers, but the ones like her… they parade around showing off their abilities, and someone always gets hurt as a result.”
Maybe that’s why you’d quit the idea of teams after they’d died. Because you knew deep down that you were scared of what could happen if you let someone get close to you like that again—if you let someone truly know you.
“…wow.” There was a dense silence that settled between the two of you, your hands moving just as quick as your mind—grabbing Clark’s glass and refilling it. “Well, in Metropolis, the people need someone to look up to.”
“They need someone to rely on, whether it’s the Justice Gang, Superman… or Wolverine. Just a single light of hope can really make a difference.” A warm bubbled within your chest at those words, your movements stilling as they wormed into your mind—tugging somewhere deep in your heart that you’d locked away. Unfortunately for Metropolis, feelings had never been your strength—so you shoved down whatever you felt and sent it with a chaser of vodka.
“Holy shit, you really are a journalist—almost inspired me to go change the world there.” You laughed in a way that felt just a bit too pitchy to be real, too strained, but Clark didn’t say anything, even as his eyes narrowed for a moment.
Instead, he chuckled. “Yeah.”
As much as you’d love to say that Clark’s words rolled right off your shoulder, you’d spent the last three days thinking them over—mulling through each syllable like they held the answer to the universe, like they’d explain why your teammates were gone and you were the last one standing like some fucking war hero. Except you never felt like a hero, no matter how much you wished you could.
It didn’t help that Superman also was hovering in Hob’s Bay more often than not, that dopey smile of his etched in sunlight as his shadow cast down from high above. He was really convinced about this idea of teamwork, trying to include you in Metropolis affairs that you truthfully didn’t give a damn about—but it was kind of cute hearing the way he’d stutter over his words, how he’d invite you on his next mission or offer to help you on your patrol.
You’d never admit it out loud, but you started to grow fond of Superman in some sense—a routine forming like clockwork. During the day, you’d go through your patrol with that massive kryptonian form hovering nearby, talking your ear off and for some reason, you’d listen. Then, when the sun finally set and your shift at the Ace O’ Clubs started, then you’d spend your time talking with your newest regular, Clark Kent.
Clark was an oddball, those blue eyes piercing your own and captivating your attention with a ridiculous effortlessness. He spoke in a way that inspired you, and you hated it—hated the way you wanted more for yourself just based on a few words that left his lips, and he always spoke with this sincerity that made your stomach feel heavy and your heart stir after it’d felt cold for so long.
Fuck him, fuck Superman—fuck them both for making you feel needed, for feeling wanted in a world that you didn’t actually belong.
You were following your regular routine, except instead of meeting Superman in Hob’s Bay, you found yourself in the middle of Metropolis Park with a splitting headache and a giant fucking squirrel-demon thing that was attempting to swallow the only decent burger joint in Metropolis. Green Lantern had put a muzzle on the anomaly, only for it to get immediately ten times more irritated as it threw a tree at that very same green beacon of light—effectively wiping out himself and Hawkgirl in one go.
“On your left!” Mr.Terrific cut through the air, filling in for his teammates mildly embarrassing wipeout.
“Watch out for the paws!” Superman soared past you after Mr.Terrific and you mentally cursed both of them for being able to fly as your boots pounded against the concrete, claws extending out of your knuckles, a burning heat soaring through your nerves as a result.
The tree’s trajectory was in line with a group of bystanders, panic filling their eyes as they scrambled to move from its path. Some were quick enough to be just behind the radius of its massive bushy branches, but the few that were incapable would die from the impact—a painful and slow death. You shouted for them to clear out of the area as you sprinted, legs burning as they tensed.
Swinging your body in front of the remaining bystanders, you angled your fists toward the tree and its branches—blades slotting into the woods like a knife holder. Branches and twigs scratched against the material of your suit, tearing at the fabric that you’d just freshly sewn back together. The force of the tree brought you to a knee, bracing against its heavy weight as all your muscles tensed so that you wouldn’t immediately collapse. Your vision was filled with a flurry of green shit and twigs, completely encompassed until the momentum of the tree had finally died out and you were able to swing it safely to the side.
You’d told the pedestrians to clear out, to get away—you expected all attention to be focused on Superman as he landed a well placed punch onto the demon-squirrel. But as you shook the remnants of wood from your blades, one clap filled the air, then another, and another after that until the people you’d just saved were cheering and screaming for you.
“We love you, Wolverine!”
It was weird—being celebrated like this, left your chest feeling tight.
The sun peaked out from the clouds, casting warm rays down on your face that for once didn’t feel blinding—they felt like they were meant for you. For the first time, in a long time, you’d felt like a hero. The wave you gave to them was meek, far too unconfident for someone who had literal blades for hands, but it was yours—swinging around on your heel as you began to sprint back into the battleground.
You felt lighter, but definitely not light enough to not feel the metal wall of a fucking bus hitting you.
“Shit.”
The first sensation that greeted you was the cold, chilling through you to your adamantium bones. Then hands, ones that didn’t exactly feel soft like a humans, prodding your abdomen and side—and a feminine robotic voice that followed.
“She is gaining consciousness.”
The blue fluorescent lights were blinding as you jerked your eyes open, squinting at your surroundings. You felt more like you were in a weird ass winter wonderland with the way crystals protruded from the floor and coated the ceiling, snow piled up in the corners of the fortress. A groan left your lips as pain flooded your body, whatever was broken slowly mending itself again.
Then, teal and silver colored robot leaned over you with the engraving twenty six on its chest.
“What the FUCK.” You jolted, claws slotting themselves into what you could only describe as the robot’s stomach.
“No, wait! Don’t—!”
Superman rushed out from around one of the crystal structures, but it was too late as you’d already flipped the robot over you—slamming it down into the table as it released a loud metal clang. You must’ve looked insane with the way Superman put his hands up in the air, eyeing you like a feral animal as you hopped down from the examination table.
“Where the fuck am I?” You didn’t retract your claws as you approached him, his feet tracking backwards until he was pressed against the edge of a large panel that’s technology was far too advanced to be from Earth. “What the hell were your little freak robots doing?”
“Woah—woah, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down—Jesus, that’s literally the last thing you tell someone who’s freaked out. Where the fuck am I, Supershit?” The blades drew closer to his neck, Superman’s head tilting back to avoid getting nicked. Your fingers found purchase in the cloth across his chest, balling the fabric tight.
A small pout pulled at the corners of his lips, unable to be bitten back as he huffed out. “I don’t exactly appreciate that name.”
“I don’t appreciate being kidnapped.”
“Jesus, you weren’t kidnapped!” That’s when he said it—said your name, not the persona but your true identity. You bristled, blades drawing even closer as Superman’s hands scrambled for something behind him.
“Where did you hear that name?” The words were hissed out, warning bells screeching in your wind as everything in your body told you to attack. Turns out being a mutant who grew up in a world that hated you will do that to you.
Superman’s hand swing from behind him and you visibly flinched, eyes closing shut tightly as you braced for impact.
“Look at me.”
You didn’t open your eyes immediately, instead slowly squinting them open.
“…Clark?”
Superman—or well, Clark—was leaned back, thick-rimmed glasses hanging low on his nose as his curls were messily strewn across his forehead. God, you knew something was familiar about him, the scent, the way he fumbled with his hands. It all screamed in your face and you were too blinded to see it.
“Surprise?” The words were delivered with a shrug, those familiar blue eyes flitting behind you for a moment—causing you to turn your head. A ring of robots had formed around the two of you, staring—waiting and watching for your next move. Your fist slowly withdrew while your blades retracted, taking one large step back before raising your hands in surrender.
“Take me home. Now.”
Yeah, you were pissed.
The Ace O’ Clubs was extremely busy tonight, like somehow double the amount of business it’d typically get. Jimmy had gotten food poisoning and texted you mid-vomit that he wouldn’t be making it tonight, which soured your mood even more than it’d already been.
You were engaged in a dull conversation with your regular couple, hands draped in placed you did not care to see or think about as you poured their drinks. They didn’t make you laugh the way Jimmy did—the way Clark had, but you still gave that signature costumer service smile and the occasional giggle.
Your sense of smell was blinded by layers of perfume, ears boxed in by the sound of chatter all around. Wiping up the back counter, you’d begun to drown out all the noise around you—mind wandering to a different place, a different time.
“Could I have a Dirty Shirley, please?” That voice—his voice, always managed to draw your attention.
The glare you sent his way felt intended to kill even if you were throwing together one of the sweetest drinks on the menu, practically candy in a cup. You added too much grenadine this time, watching it pool at the bottom before topping it with lime and ginger ale.
You slid the cup toward Clark. “Here’s your order, sir.”
He took one sip from that vibrant red straw, brows furrowing as his lips drew tight together. “That’s… that’s good.”
Clark was just trying to be polite—trying to put you in a good mood after you’d really considered killing him, or at least trying to, earlier. He continued to sip the drink in silence until it was down to the last drop, syrup sucked through the straw and all. When he ordered another one instead of leaving, that’s when you finally snapped at him—placing your rag upon the counter with more force than needed.
“What the hell do you want?” You hissed out, leaning forward onto your forearms.
Clark’s hands rested on the counter beside your arms as he whispered. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have taken off your mask, but you were hurt—.”
“I’ve been hurt plenty of other times. I was fine—.”
“Yes, but I was there this time.” The words were scoffed out, Clark’s thick brows drawing together as his eyes began to swirl with an emotion too familiar and too painful for you to delve into. “I wasn’t going to just—just leave you there!”
“Why? Why is it so important to you if I’m injured—!” You shot back, fire filling your veins.
“Because you’re a good person, and a good hero. You’re one of the things I swore to protect.” Clark’s voice was more resigned now, spoken like a definitive truth rather than a claim. He’d taken on this duty to protect all living creatures on Earth, and that included you.
You wanted to believe it was less about you personally, but with the way his fingertips shifted—grazing your arm so gently under the lamplight of the bar, you knew he’d felt more than just duty toward you. In the past month, you’d wanted to despise Superman—wanted to turn him away and shut him out just like you had to the rest of the world. But now, with your face’s so close, and his fingers tracing patterns along your elbow, you were unsure if you could.
“God, I need a fucking drink.”
One too many drinks sent you stumbling into Clark Kent’s apartment, palms braced onto the broad plane of his shoulders as your lips sucked on his neck ravenously. He fumbled with the door as your hands began to wander along his biceps, squeezing the firm muscle as it encircled your waist.
Maybe it was the tequila, but you’d gone from wanting to tear Clark’s head off to wanting to rip his pants off with your teeth—and in your defense, Jimmy did say you needed to get laid.
“Take your clothes off.” The words were hot leaving your lips, body pressed flush against Clark’s as he guided you deeper into his apartment.
“Jesus,” Clark sighed out as your tongue slipped along his jaw, nipping at his ear. Your hands left his arms, moving to his belt only for him to swat them away quickly. “let me get you to the bed first.”
Instead, your hands went to your own clothes, pulling your polo over your head and tossing it into some obscure spot where you’d struggle to find it later. Clark had taken off his glasses, big blue eyes soaking in the sight of your cleavage and bra. His hand slipped from your waist, finger tips lifting to trace along your collarbone up to your cheek—and you hated the way your breath hitched at how gentle he was as he cupped your jaw.
Clark leaned down to seal the space between you in a kiss, light as a feather against your lips. Your fingers wound tight within his hair, mouth meeting his in a more heated embrace—nipping at his bottom lip and matching his groan with one of your own. “You like that, Big Blue?”
“Maybe.” Your suspicion was confirmed by the throb of his bulge within his trousers. His unoccupied hand went to your bottom, scooping your legs up before wrapping them around his hips comfortably.
Clark hobbled into the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his heel before swaying toward the bed. He put you down carefully, eyes fluttering downward to check that your feet had actually made contact with the ground before letting go. His back turned to you as he pulled the string to a small standing lamp, casting the room in a golden glow.
The walls of his room were a dark shade of blue, his bed shoved in the corner with a neatly tucked plaid duvet cover. There was a desk with a computer on top, plus a bookshelf full of comic books and some obscure critique pieces. Overall, a pretty basic room for a guy who practically saved the world every other weekend.
“Wow… you’ve got it nice, Superman.” You whistled as you began to wander around the room, fingers tracing along the bookshelf mindlessly—gaze flicking backwards to look at Clark as he watched you move, watched you fill the space of his room like you belonged.
“Clark.”
“Yeah, my bad. Clark.” You corrected yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you pivoted on your heel to face him. “So… are you gonna make me ask for you to fuck me?”
“Oh—oh, yeah. Sorry.” Clark sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, foot falls creaking against the wooden planks below as he approached. His hands slid comfortably along your waist like they’d belonged there, pinkies thumbing your belt as if he couldn’t decide to take it off or not. A small smile cracked your too-cool facade, your hands finding your belt as you undid the buckle and tossed it to the ground haphazardly.
Your hands found his soon after, fingers gently wrapped around Clark’s massive wrists in a way that felt too gentle for your violent nature—guiding him to zipper on your pants. He fumbled with the tab for a moment, eyes continuing to shift between your own and the zipper beneath his fingertips. A small nod of your head urged him to continue, a confirmation that you weren’t glass—that you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.
The minute your pants had been unzipped, you shimmied out of them—kicking them along with your belt across the room. You stood in your bra and underwear, a dark spot having formed in the center of the fabric.
“Golly…” God, Clark was so cute with the way he took you in like a masterpiece—pupils dilating as they found traced along your body. “You look amazing.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, bub.” Your hips swayed as you approached Clark, a hand finding his belt in a teasing glide while the other moved to his jaw. Your fingers traced along the cool metal of the belt buckle, watching the way his hips jerked to meet the lightest graze along that hulking mass within his pants.
His belt hit the floor with a loud clang, your foot immediately kicking it away as you slowly lowered yourself to the ground. The wood dug into your knees, but it was nothing compared to the way your mouth watered—begging to be wrapped around Clark’s cock and stretched wide. Clark’s breath hitched as he looked down at you, watched you slowly unzip his pants inch by inch until they were loose around his hips and easy pulled down. “You don’t have to do that—“
“I want to,”The eagerness in your voice seemed to calm a bit of Clark’s nerves as your fingers dipped beneath his waistband. “Unless you don’t, I’ll stop.”
“No, I do—god, I do.” The tips of your fingers ghostsd over his tip, his hips jerking toward you frantically to meet the touch. A small breathy laugh left your lips, gaze shifting from his bulge up toward his face, watching the way Clark’s cheeks were flushed and his ears were painted in pink. “You’re so pretty and sweet, god…”
Your thighs ground together involuntarily at the compliment, that wet patch between thickening with need. Sliding his boxers down, your eyes widened at the sheer size of Clark—the way he was hung like a beast in human clothing. Heat flared inside your belly, dripping down to your pussy as it clenched around nothing.
You gripped Clark gently, handling him as his member twitched and bobbed eagerly. Your tongue darted from your lips, flicking along the tip like you were taste testing a popsicle—only to hum out in agreement before opening your mouth wider to take even more. You kissed and sucked on the tip of his cock, worshipping it between lips already stretched thin.
“God dang—oh, Jesus…” Clark gasped out desperately, stomach flexing underneath his undershirt as his hands found purchase in your hair—hips mindlessly pushing forward before he stopped himself. “Your mouth feels—oh!”
One hand remained steady on the base of his cock, shifting to fondle his heavy full balls while the other dipped between your thighs. Shoving your panties aside, the wetness that had formed around your slit made it easy for two fingers to slip inside—caressing and curling in a way that made your spine tingle and a groan vibrate within your throat.
Clark’s hand tightened in your hair, hips pushing forward, causing you to gag around him. His grip immediately loosened as he panicked. “Shoot—sorry. I’m sorry.”
A chuckle left your throat, the vibration alone sending Clark into a spiral as his head tilted back to reveal the long column of his throat. You opened your mouth a bit wider, hollowing out your cheeks as you took his cock deeper into your throat—swirling your tongue and sucking loudly. Your hips had begun to buck along your hand, swollen clit needing gliding along the heel of your palm.
The hand on Clark’s balls quickly grabbed his within your hair, helping him find a rhythm he was comfortable with as his fingers tightened once again—flexing and curling. The more confident he grew, the deeper you took him—pubic hairs tickling against the tip of your nose as you gagged around him again. Clark immediately let go once more, whispering out another apology.
You pulled your mouth away from his cock suddenly, the loss of contact and the sudden cool air causing a shiver to run down his spine. “Stop apologizing. I want you to fuck my face, is that direct enough for you?”
If he wasn’t already red enough, he was matching his suit now.
“Okay—okay… just tell me if I’m hurting you, yeah?” Even as your lips wrapped around Clark’s cock once more and he groaned out, there was a hint of concern in his gaze—watching how your throat expanded around his twitching member as you sucked him off like your life depending on it. The hand in your hair began to guide you, slow at first as his hips slowly moved to meet the pace set—then quicker, your nose meeting Clark’s pubic bone as he released shaky moans past chapped lips.
“You’re so good—Jesus…. So, so pretty. Mmm—oh god!”
Your thumb began to circle your clit in a pace that matched his, hips shifting and grinding into the friction as your throat expanded and contracted eagerly. Your hand left his as it moved back down to those heavy balls, grasping the skin and massaging along them—taking in the way they contracted and tightened momentarily.
“Oh—oh, god! I can’t—ngh!”
There wasn’t much of a warning when Clark came, shooting his load down your throat beyond a startled cry leaving his lips—hips pushing forward as your nose was shoved against his pelvis. You gagged around the load, salty hot sperm seeping down your tongue and into the pit of your stomach. Your lips left his cock with a loud pop, still pulsing with life as tiny ropes of cum dribbled from the tip onto your tits—Clark’s head lulled off to the side beneath his arm as he caught his breath.
There was a moment where it was just the combined sound of your breath and his, hot and steady.
“You okay, Clark?” Your hand finally left your slit, covered in slick and need.
Clark’s nose flared at the scent of your arousal as he moved his hand from his face finally, blue eyes darkened and dilated like a ravenous animal. “Mmm… yes, really good.”
When you rose onto your feet, Clark’s hands were on you immediately—grabbing your ass, your waist, everything as his mouth latched onto yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty tang left behind as his mouth enveloped yours. Clark’s fingers found the wet patch of your panties, a low groan leaving his lips as his index finger hooked beneath the fabric—pulling it down in one quick swipe.
“Let me make it up to you—let me make you feel so good, please.” He whispered against your lips, thumb finding your clit with surprising precision. A mixture of a moan and groan forced past your lips, drawing tight as your arms quickly grabbed onto Clark’s shoulders—pushing him away as he released a pathetic whimper at the loss of contact.
“As much as I’d love that, Clark,” You tilted your head toward his bed, eyeing the way it was a little bit too… perfect, too clean right now. “I really want you inside me.”
“You’re so direct—it’s embarrassing…” He groaned out as his hand dragged across his face, but that didn’t stop him from plopping down onto the edge of the bed with that signature overly eager expression. Your legs were spread onto other side of his own, back pressed against his chest as your hand dipped between the two of you. Fingers grasped his cock, fisting once, then twice as Clark released a gentle sigh.
He was big—you were aware of that, but god, that didn’t stop you from wanting him hot and burning inside you.
His tip glided along the slick of your pussy, dripping down onto the head until it was shimmery and coated in it. The stretch was immediate as you sunk downward, tip splitting past that first ring of muscle. A choked noise caught within your chest, eyelashes fluttering shut as all you could do was feel.
“Holy—you’re so tight… oh my—god..” Clark’s head fell into your shoulder, heat pants of breath beading across your skin.
Each inch felt like you were experiencing a new degree of heaven, walls stretching wide just to accommodate Clark’s size. He was nudged up against your cervix in mere minutes, a few inches still waiting to be taken but you were so snuggly tight that it felt impossible. Clark’s hands grasped your waist, kneading the skin as you just breathed him in—took in the way he stretched you more and more with each tiny roll of your hips.
“Fuck—you’re big, like… super big.”
You gave an experimental roll of your hips, Clark’s mouth opening in a wet gasp as his own hips stuttered. One roll turned into another, your thighs stretching and aching as you adjusted your position—feet planting themselves onto the edge of the mattress. Your hands found purchase on Clark’s knees, hips rising until just his tip was snug inside before slamming down with a ferocity that knocked the wind from both yours and Clark’s lungs.
You began to ride him, ass slamming against his pelvis as your pussy clenched and strained around his cock—member twitching within your walls every few pulses. Clark’s fingers tightened their grip on your waist, digging into the flesh as his hips lifted to meet your own movements. The bed beneath you both rocked, wet gasps and groans filling the air along with the scent of sex and sweat.
One of the hands on his knees found its way to Clark’s hair, gently tugging at the curly locks—a whine leaving Clark’s lips as your pussy swallowed him up so eagerly.
“You like this—mmph… like the way this pussy fucks you?” Your ass jiggled with each bounce, grinding deeper and deeper onto his length as your clit throbbed needing for attention.
“Yes—yes, oh…mph…” Clark’s mouth latched onto the flesh of your shoulder, tracing kisses up your neckline until he reached raised bump near the back of your ear—that’s when he smelled something, pheromones seeping from the skin. His tongue traced along the spot and your mind blanked for a moment, hips stuttering as you clenched around him hard.
“Fuck—that felt good… what the hell.” One of Clark’s hands shifted in front of you, applying pressure onto your tummy as his thumb swiped languid circles against your clit. The other, found a place on your jawline—tilting your head as his mouth latched onto that precious little spot.
He sucked, and for the first time, you whined—genuinely whined out pathetically. Your pace grew sloppy as his tongue darted across the raised bump, pussy sucking him in to the hilt as your body shuddered and spasmed with each wave of newfound pleasure. Clark gutturally moaned into your neck, teeth grazing along the skin before nipping in a way that caused your back to arch as your legs were rendered into jello.
“Oh—you like that, sweetheart?” Clark mirrored your own words, his hands shifting to your hips as he took over your pacing—lifting your body before slamming it right back down onto his throbbing cock.
“Mmph—oh, fuck.” He managed to hit all those sweet spots inside you and outside as he alternated between sucked on your skin and nipping at your ear—legs shaking with incessant heat the longer he bounced you like a ragdoll. As much as you wouldn’t admit it to him, you were getting increasingly wet just because of the way he was manhandling you so sweetly—hips bursting with force up into yours as his hands slammed you down once again.
A heat began to form within the pit of your stomach, but it was different this time—building too damn fast and way more intense than you were used to. Your hands began to clamber for anything to hold onto, anything to ground yourself as Clark’s languid thrusts turned into quick ruts as his balls began to draw tight. Heady gasps left your lips along with the whines, swollen clit twitching and throbbing as your fingers began to draw fat mean circles across the sensitive nub. “Yes, yes, please… I’m gonna—!”
“Come with me—please, oh god—I’m…” You both crested at the same time, walls tightening and pulsing to life as your orgasm swept over you. Clark’s hips bucked mean thrusts into you as he spilled his seed deep inside the warm expanse of your pussy, costing you from the inside out.
You’d blanked as you came, a scream tearing itself from your throat as your back arched and your fists strangled his duvet sheets, a tingling sensation forming in your knuckles. A sudden wetness coated your thighs and his, your mind taking a moment to truly register what had happened. When you were finally able to think past the pulsing of your pussy, you had realized you’d squirted all across Clark’s bed and thighs, coating them in clear fluid and cum. On top of that, the fists you’d burrowed into the sheets had daggers protruding out of them.
The Clark Kent had not only made you orgasm so hard you squirted, but also had managed to make you stab his bed.
His hands smoothed along your sides as you breathed, body going slack against his chest as sweat beaded and dripped down your bodies. Even though you couldn’t see Clark, you could feel his smile pressed against the crown of your head—arms sneaking around your form as his cock stayed nuzzled inside your walls. Your chest rose and fell with his, sweaty bodies clung together like a set rather than two individuals.
Part of you wanted to stay like this, in his arms, safe and warm—but the louder sort of you, the part that had seen cruelty and shown it yourself, told you that this was just sex, that it was only going to be just sex. So, you pushed away from Clark—cleaning yourself up in the bathroom before slipping on one of his shirts and your discarded (and clammy) underwear.
But as you walked down the hallway toward his bedroom, your chest felt tighter than it had in years of being Wolverine. Clark had already made you a cup of tea in a mug that had Green Lantern’s face plastered all across it, a mixture of a scoff and a laugh bubbling in your chest as he handed you the cup with this ridiculously beautiful smile etched on his face. You sometimes didn’t think this man was real with how perfect he is.
“It was the last mug they had.” Clark’s voice was soft as he answered the question held your expression, hand slotting itself on your lower back to guide you toward the bed. Somehow, he’d managed to change the (ruined) bedsheets, clean the duvet, and clean himself up while you were in the bathroom which admittedly really made you question how long you were in there—but those thoughts melted from your brain as Clark’s fingers curled around your waist, guiding you onto the plush mattress.
It felt impossible for a bed to be this snug and comfortable as you laid down beside Clark, sheets pulled snuggly over your barely dressed bodies. The tea was hot within your hands, steam curling in the air as you took a long sip. The warmth soothed the ache of your throat, which was still definitely going to be sore tomorrow—but for now, tea was a good remedy.
Your side was wedged against Clark’s, his arm draped behind you in a half-hold like he was nervous even in your post-sex haze that you’d try to rip his head off. The tug in your heart wasn’t helped by the fact you’d curled into him, head slotting itself onto his shoulder as you simply just got the chance to be.
Your legs were shaky, but it wasn’t from pain. Your lungs ached, but it wasn’t from being Wolverine. Your mind was hazy, but it wasn’t from drinking yourself into a coma. You felt alive, and for once, it wasn’t because of the pain your mutation caused or because of your past.
You don’t know when you had fallen asleep in Clark’s arms, but when you awoke, it was still dark outside and unbearably quiet within his apartment. The air was cold on your legs as you crept from the bed, shocking you into a state of awareness. You winced as your feet fell upon creaky wooden planks, casting a gaze over your shoulder only to find Clark Kent in a deep sleep, curls strewn across his face.
A cigarette was wedged between your lips as you wrenched open one of the apartment windows, taking in a deep suck of nicotine before releasing a puff of hot smoke from your mouth. The sting was a familiar comfort to you in times where your heart felt too real for your chest, throbbing in tandem with that sleeping man’s breath in one room over.
The window sill was cold against your arm as you rested your elbow, moonlight streaming past the blinds eagerly, coating your face in its fluorescent glow. Metropolis felt quiet for once, the world having finally fallen into a peaceful slumber—no late night missions tonight.
You smelled and heard Clark before he’d even entered the room, vibrations of his feet padding against the floor in your direction. The heat that radiated from his body was tempting as he stood behind you, arms slinking around your waist as his hands squeezed your hips affectionately.
“Hey.”
Shit, you weren’t already starting to feel sore, his sleep-ridden voice would’ve made you want to go another round. Clark buried his nose into the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair—of you.
“Hey, Wonder Boy.” You took a long drag of the cigarette between your fingers, puffing smoke from your lips. Clark’s nose scrunched at the scent, lips planting a gentle kiss against your temple.
He pulled your form a bit tighter against his, body going slack in a way that made you feel weirdly domestic—like this could be your life if you allowed it, like you could actually find acceptance. Bullshit. “Those things’ll kill you.”
“No shit.”
Clark’s movements were too quick for you to react as he plucked the cigarette from your mouth, snuffing the lit bud in between his fingers before tossing them into the nearby trash can.
“Seriously, Clark?” Brows furrowing as your arms pulled across your chest, expression shifting into one of obvious annoyance. He hummed out, mimicking your body language with his own—biceps flexing before he crossed them over his chest. Your eyes rolled so hard they were tempted to roll out of your head. “Whatever.”
You’d begun to quickly gather your clothes, each item strewn across his apartment in different directions. Clark followed you, hovering from behind like he always did on patrols—but there was this energy about him, a nervousness that crackled beneath the surface.
“Are you… are you going to leave?”
You paused in your track, hands stilling upon your belt. The question was resigned, like he already knew the answer but was holding out a bit of hope for you—for this to work. Things never worked out for you, though.
You cleared your throat, tossing the belt into the crevice of your arm. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see those gentle blue eyes begging you to stay—to admit that you felt something for him that wasn’t just a fleeting touch. “Clark, you know this is just sex, right? This isn’t supposed to be like—something meaningful or anything. We had our fun, now we go our separate ways.”
“But—what if I don’t want to go separate ways?” His body moved to block yours, his hands hovering like he wanted to touch you but was unsure.
You hated the way your voice came out sharp, hurt registering within his eyes at the sudden harshness. “Then that’s real tough, bub.”
Clark’s brows furrowed as you weaseled around him, slipping your pants back up your legs in miniature jumps.
“Tough? That’s really all you have to say?” There was a thinly veiled danger beneath each syllable, like he was holding himself back from finally snapping at you and tearing into you. He was peeved and it was evident with the way he began to approach you, always remaining in your line of sight no matter what you did to avoid looking at him.
“What the hell am I supposed to say? I thought we were on the same page—.”
“Same page isn’t having sex with someone after they pour their heart out to you, then leaving like it’s nothing.”
You jerked your head upwards, finally meeting his gaze with your own—and you regretted it immediately. Clark looked hurt, not in the way that someone gets injured on the battlefield, but in that love struck way when you realize you never had a chance. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ blame me. I told you before, I don’t do the whole teamwork thing.”
“Why?” You turned on your heel only for Clark to weave around you, blocking you from approaching his apartment door. That pissed you off—bad. A grunt left your lips as you attempted to push past him, his bulking mass remaining rooted in the ground like a tree. “What’s stopping you from just staying—from connecting with people?”
“That’s none of your business, Supershit—!” A hiss left your lips as you stopped attempting to run, finally facing him head-on with your own rage boiling in your veins.
“Jesus, I told you not to call me that! What’s your problem?” Clark waved his hands, emphasizing his point so vividly with each word that was spat out—your hands growing cold and clammy while your face heated in embarrassment. “You’ve been so hot and cold since we’ve met, I don’t even know which part of it is you anymore. One second you’re threatening to punch my face in, the next, you’re ripping my damn pants off—!”
You interrupted, shoving your finger into his chest in a way that made Clark’s nose flare. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even noticed the tears brimming in your waterline, stinging as they threatened to spill. Your voice began to raise in decibels quickly. “You want to know what my problem is? Do you really want to know, Clark?”
“Yes, god, maybe then I could understand what’s wrong with you!”
“My teammates died because of me—because I was too damn weak to finish a job I should’ve years ago! I let them get close to me, and I couldn’t fucking protect them. There, does that make you happy?”
There was a pause of silence as those tears finally began to spill over, dripping down your cheeks in a steady warm stream. Clark’s expression shifted, anger melting away into something softer, sympathetic—but the damage was already done.
“I—… I’m sorry—.”
“Don’t you think I know I’m an asshole—that I’m fucked up? I’ve lived my entire life being a mutant fuck-up.” Your fist made contact with the hard plane of his chest, pushing hard before dropping to your side weakly. “My parents died and I wasn’t able to stop it, my body is constantly on fire because of this fucking adamantium, and I’m being lectured by the perfect superhero dipshit of Metropolis!”
You gestured wildly toward the window—to the city that adored Superman, to the city that you wished you’d never come to.
A short, strained breath filled your lungs as you quickly wiped away the tears from your face, determined to regain that calm facade you’d kept on for so long. A small sniffle left your lips, and you mentally scolded yourself for looking so pathetic—for feeling so small in a world so big.
“So,” Another sniff followed. “do you have any other questions or statements before I get the fuck out of here?”
Clark’s mouth was formed into silent words as he stood there, no longer making a conscious effort to block you. Your shoulder collided with his harshly, not enough to knock him over but enough to sting as you moved toward the door. The palm of your hand came into contact with the cool brass of the doorknob, twisting and squeezing tightly.
“I love you.”
The words were a whisper in the darkness as the door hinges creaked, barely carrying over the loud noise. Your heart jumped into your throat, because he’d just confirmed everything you feared. The palm of your hand traced along the wood grain of the door, unable to bring yourself to look into Clark’s eyes as you stabbed his weeping heart in two words.
“I know.”
The sound of the door closing behind you was more akin to a death knell.
Life without Superman was weird. You did your patrols, but there was no figure hovering nearby to ask about your day or to talk about how he’d had the best hot cocoa of his life. Clark stopped showing up to the bar. Jimmy said it was because he was swamped with work, but even Jimmy delivered the words with a certain skepticism.
There was a pit nestled into your stomach, an unease that you couldn’t shake with booze and cigarette smoke. You continued your work as Wolverine, but the weight remained, suffocating you from the inside out. It wasn’t like you had always been around Clark, getting lost in those expressive eyes and shining dimples, you’d been alone before. You could do it again, at least that’s what you’d like to believe.
But as days stretched into a week, then another, the feeling began to eat you from the inside out—tossing and turning in your bed as you began to mourn someone who was still alive and well. You thought more sex would fix the problem, but it turns out that meaningless sex was just that, meaningless.
Superman remained the poster boy of Metropolis, working double as hard to defend the city from ruin. He was practically unstoppable—until he wasn’t.
Turns out Wonder Boy was immune to many things, but magic wasn’t one of them as he was sent flying from New Troy into Hob’s Bay. The sheer vibration alone alerted you that something was wrong, weaving through alleyways to find the source. A blur of red, gold, and blue shot past you just as your boots came into contact with the sidewalk—bursting from the darkness.
“What the—.” You traced the path to the source, a figure floating in the sky in the sky with a black suit and an obviously extraterrestrial appearance.
The men landed on the ground, boots so heavy that the vibration was felt from all around. Sucking in a deep breath, pain shot through your wrists as your claws slowly extended past the layers of your skin. Your walk quickly transitioned into a sprint as you bolted into battle, only to have a hand grasp the back of your neck like a dog.
A startled yelp escaped your mouth before it could be stopped, legs swinging beneath you as the ground you had become to comfortably familiar with was growing further away in distance. Looking up, Clark was holding you steady—grip firm as he swung you down onto a nearby rooftop. “Stay here.”
“What? Why—?” The words were quick as they left your mouth, legs wobbly beneath your body for a moment as you reestablished your footing on solid concrete.
“You’ll just get in the way.” The words were bitten out in a way that betrayed any facade Clark was putting on.
“You need help.”
“Not from you.”
“Well, I don’t see Green Lantern or Hawkgirl anywhere nearby. So, I think I’m all you’ve got.” You began to move toward the fire escape of the building, only for Clark to pull you backwards quickly—your boots catching on themselves as you stumbled backwards. His hand moved to your back, stabilizing you as he spoke softer now, far too soft for the circumstance.
“Can you just—can you listen to me for once? This guy will hurt you, if he doesn’t find a way to kill you.”
“I can heal.”
“But I can’t let you get hurt.”
There was a pause in your argument as you met Clark’s eyes, took in the way he looked stronger now—set in his resolve and unwilling to let you into the battle. Your hand cupped over his own with a gentleness that was shocking, a spark shooting through your fingertips. Your other hand mindlessly moved toward Clark’s face, cupping his jawline with that same gentleness as your expression shifted to something unreadable, the depths of your eyes swirling with conflicting emotions.
“I can’t watch you get hurt either, Clark.”
Your words were soft, eyes tracing along his face tentatively before finally meeting those big blues sculpted from in aquamarine and love. Clark’s resolve crumbled a bit as you pulled away, hand slipping around your waist as he shot straight into the air. Silently, you both agreed on one thing: that you’d do this together, as a team.
The figure stood in the middle of the street, crushed and destroyed chunks of concrete floating in the air around—cutting through the air as they soared in your direction. Clark’s hand moved to brace against your head, drawing you tight into his chest as he took the brunt of the blows. Your landing was a bit rough, but you managed to catch your balance quickly.
“You go left, I’ll go right.” You spoke, slipping back into that commanding position you’d once taken in the X-Men. God, you missed this.
Clark nodded, turning to look at you one more time. “Stay safe, please.”
“I will. You better stay safe too, Wonder Boy.” The familiar nickname caused his dimples to etch deeper into his face, a chuckle bubbling up past his lips.
The way you both moved was more of a whole rather than two individuals, bodies synced as you fought. Superman would land a punch and you’d follow with a stab of your own. When he would be knocked away, you would cover him in your own way—and when you’d be kicked down, Clark would defend you with his life.
The sun shined the brightest it ever had as you both worked together. It wasn’t long before the figure was sent flying back into the atmosphere thanks to Clark’s inhumane strength.
You were sitting on the curbside, knees pulled up to your chest as sweat dripped beneath your costume. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out hot pants of air, sun shining bright upon your eyelids. Just as you were about to move into the shade, a bulking figure stood in front of you—a shadow casting down upon your face.
“Turns out we make a good team.” The cheesy comment made a smile slither its way onto your face, scoffing out a laugh as your eyes opened to see a messy-haired Clark. His hand was extended towards your own, and you accepted it graciously.
“I guess we do.” He tugged you from your spot on the curb, legs protesting in exhaustion as you stood.
There was a silence that formed between the two of you as Clark shifted to stand beside you, both of your eyes set upon the sunset over Metropolis. It wasn’t an angry silence, it was one full of unspoken words that were waiting to be spat out.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” You were first to break the silence, eyes remaining on the warm yellow hues of the sun.
Clark didn’t say anything, just slipping his arm over your shoulders before giving your arm a firm squeeze.
The words came up like word vomit as you finally broke your lifelong stare with the sun, instead choosing to watch the way the yellow and orange hues reflected in Clark’s eyes and illuminated his skin.
“I love you, too.”
Your words were punctuated with the weaving of your fingers through Clark’s, holding firm and steady. Mentally, you promised to never let go—to hold onto him forever and let him hold you in turn. Clark wasn’t in love with the perfection, he was in love with the mess and the pain, he saw it all and loved you in spite of it.
His smile deepened, his own eyes breaking from the sun to look down at you—and god, somehow he always made you feel like the prettiest person in the world.
“I’m sorry. And I love you too—mmph!”
Clark wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you practically jumped into his lips, fingers weaving through his curls so sweetly as his arms enclosed around your waist. Your noses were messily smooshed together, but it was nothing compared to the warm fuzziness that bubbled in your lungs and chest, filling your heart with joy. Your feet had lifted from the ground as your lips imprinted on one another, bodies swaying in the air as Clark conveyed his own thoughts in a less verbal way.
And the longer he held you, the more you were sure he’d never let you go.
SUPERMAN AND WOLVERINE: SUPER SECRET RELATIONSHIP GONE PUBLIC.
Headlines were crazy for a month and Clark was bombarded with articles to read and annotate, filling the margins with critiques and compliments that were probably too personal to be simply a journalist’s take. But Clark didn’t care, not when he’d been coming home to you in his apartment everyday.
“Do you think they know each other’s identities? I mean, it wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t.” Lois was leaned against Clark’s desk, speculating aloud as Clark scribbled into his notepad.
“I think they would, Lois.” Clark mumbled beneath his breath, ink smearing beneath his fingers every few words. “A relationship is about trust, and I just can’t see how they wouldn’t trust each other.”
“Hey, Clark! That bartender from the Ace o’ Clubs just dropped by, she asked me to give this to you?” Jimmy walked in with a white paper cup and a note neatly taped to the side of it, covered in your handwriting. Clark’s hand encompassed the cup before he popped off the lid, his senses immediately being assaulted by the smell of too much cocoa and just the right amount of milk—just how he liked his hot chocolate.
He peeled off the note on the side as Jimmy plopped into his chair, wheels creeping as he wheeled himself closer to Clark nosily. The smile that Clark had tried to hide originally became obvious the longer he read the note, dimples etching into his cheeks in this cheesy grin.
“Ran a few errands and thought you’d like a cocoa. Tell Jimmy I said hi and to fuck off.”
Just below that in smaller text it read:
“P.S. it’s your turn to make dinner.”
“No way…” Jimmy’s mouth was agape as he wheeled a foot away from Clark in shock, snapping him back to reality as he folded the note and shoved it into his pocket. “You’re totally having sex with that bartender!”
“Jesus, Jimmy! Keep it down.” Clark’s ears flushed a bright red, neck heating up quickly and unforgivingly. Jimmy wheeled himself back over quickly, placing his hands onto the desk as he readied himself for possibly the gossip of the century.
“Tell me everything—not like, the sex, but I thought she hated everyone.”
Clark Kent, if described in one word, would be called kind. Not just because he was Superman, or because he was a hero, but because he saw the flaws in people and things, and chose to love in spite of it. He chose to love Earth with all his heart, even when it turned its back on him, even when he saw the nastiest pieces of humanity.
He saw your flaws, saw your weaknesses, and instead of turning his back on you, he pulled you into his arms and wiped your tears like you were porcelain. Clark Kent loved your flaws, loved your strengths—Clark Kent loved you.
I need more information about Clark sucking clit🙏. Will he fall asleep during it?
clark twists and twirls his tongue and lips alllll around the clit, soothing himself like it’s a pacifier for him after a really long drab day at work he just wants to come home and stick his head right between those legs and lick. suckle like it’s his source for milk, like it’s his source of a good serotonin boost to smell and nuzzle and eat out his girlfriend into several earthquake-like orgasms that have her convulsing because he overstimulates her from sucking so hard for so long.
when he calms himself down he settles it down to kitten licks, drool mixing with her wetness all over his face. the slobber is audible the more he licks and sucks. and he absolutely falls asleep while he’s sucking clit. nose bunched in her pussy lips when his tongue dove in to lick her hole clean, breathing her in so deeply, relaxing and completely unwinding. snoring even.
if he wakes up in the middle of the night he isn’t even confused about where he is. just kisses her pussy and suckles her clit some more, leaving it puffy and swollen and red from all the nonstop attention. she’s taken pictures of him asleep between her legs, oblivious yet exactly where he wants to be. she cums again and again and again and he drinks it up like nectar. he cums while he gives head too btw and will fully hump the shit out of the bed while he’s eating. doesn’t care how sloppy his mouth gets, or his boxers, or their sheets. he’s so happy and soothed to be right where he is
Tw. monsterfucking, threesome, double penetration, unprotected sex, breeding, degradation, oral (not for or by Reader)
Yan! Demon x GN! Reader x Yan! Angel
yes they both have dicks at first. Demon is referred with he/him here. Y'all are like really complicated. Demon definitely loves you, though
"Goodness, aren't you pathetic?" Angel snickers in your ear. Their cock steadily slides in and out of you, taking pleasure in your fucked out expression.
In contrast to Angel's slow, teasing thrusts, Demon's are frantic, fast, desperate. His claws dig into the meat of your thighs, whimpering at both the feel of your walls squeezing him and Angel's cock rubbing against his. "S—so good, oh God, you feel so so good...Thank you, thank you, thank—"
"Quiet!" Angel forcibly hits upwards, making both you and Demon flinch. "You're just as pathetic as this one. Go slower with them." They squeeze your ass, "You might break your beloved human." They adjust you so you're leaning better on their chest.
Demon's eyes widen, instantly softening his grip. "Fuck, I'm so so sorry birdie...Birdie are you okay?I didn't hurt you did I?"
You're too fucked out of your mind to give him a proper response. Their two cocks inside you is making your head spin. You know you're definitely filled with cum, you can feel it slide down your thighs. Between Demon's passion and Angel's teasing, it's too much, too little, too much...
Your focus comes to when Angel breathes in your ear, "He asked a question. Aren't you going to answer?"
You weakly look over to Demon's soft eyes. He reaches out to cup your face, wiping away stray tears on your cheeks. "Do you want a break?" He kisses your forehead. "Don't force yourself to just take us. This is also about your pleasure."
From behind you, Angel snorts. He glares at them then refocuses back to you. "You okay?"
You give a small nod. He smiles, pressing kisses all over your face as he carefully continues to thrust. Angel doesn't move inside you. Instead, they absently run their cold hands over your front. Goosebumps follow their touches.
"It's only been a while and your human has lost all thoughts in their pretty little head," they wipe some sweat off your brow. "How did they ever survive?"
Demon whines, bottoming out as deep as he can before spilling more cum into you. "I—I don't, I don't know, fuck, birdie, come on, you can cum...it's okay, just like that...Oh, so beautiful..."
He spurts a little more cum at the sight of your orgasming face. He rubs gentle circles on your twitching, messy thighs. "You're okay, you're okay..."
Angel slowly pulls out, making you whine at the partial lose. They adjust from behind you, standing up to their full height. "Make them lie down. But put your chin up, demon."
He nods, lying you down on the bed. Propping your legs against his waist so he can sink a little deeper. You squirm, lolling your head to the side of the bed. Your eyes flicker up, seeing Angel's cock now gone. Angel grabs a fistful of Demon's hair and forces his mouth on their crotch. "Eat. I think you deserve to taste some holiness in your life."
Demon whimpers, slipping his long, demonic tongue into Angel's pussy. Hissing at the unnaturally sweet taste burning his tongue. At the same time, he starts pounding into you. Thick cock poking at that sweet spot inside you without pause. You cry out, nails digging into his back. Your mind is spinning again. You want to scream but your voice is far too hoarse.
You look up to see Angel's mocking smile as they pet Demon's hair. "You okay?" They force his head closer to their pussy. "You feeling good?"
Southern Minotaur with a thick Texas drawl. He grew up on a ranch and still works in the industry. When he has to come to town to get supplies or whatever, he is just the picture perfect Southern Gentlemen.
He always says “ma’am” when answering your questions or asking you something. He always seems to grin a little wider when you ask him something and he has to reply “yes ma’am”. Maybe it’s just because it makes your face flush slightly, still being new to the area and not being used to it.
But oh shit, when he asks you if you’d like to go out to eat and you say “yes sir” he just loses his mind.
Before dinner he has you pinned under his massive form, his far too big cock bullying into your weeping hole. You’re whimpering and whining that it’s too big, that he needs to slow down, but he just lets out an airy chuckle.
“It’s ‘ight pretty girl. Just be good for me and take it,” he smirked as he forced himself back inside of you again.
All the air is being knocked out of your lungs with every thrust. Tears are trickling down your eyes and your entire body feels like it’s being crushed under him. His bull nose bumping against your forehead with every thrust as he pushes your knees up to your chest, making you feel even tighter around him. Making you whine louder from how much bigger he feels.
“S’good, lil’ lady. Fuck, you take it so good,” he grunted as he started moving faster, his massive cock stretching you wider than you thought possible. He’s definitely bruised your cervix, at least.
You feel like you’re going to be crushed from him pinning you down, or just from being impaled on his massive cock, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to slam into you over and over again until he can fill your little human womb with cum.
☆ She had eyes like a map drawn in sepia. Every fleck a place you wanted to find, every shade a road that didn't have a name yet.
☆ His gaze was the brown of the last hour before sunset.
☆ His eyes were wildfire contained. All that amber heat sitting perfectly still, which was somehow the most alarming thing about him.
☆ He had eyes full of dark flecks that looked less like imperfections and more like constellations someone hadn't bothered to name yet.
☆ she looked at you with eyes the shade of dried tobacco and autumn leaves and things that smell like memory. The kind of eyes that make you homesick for somewhere you've never been.
☆ Her eyes were the color of shallow river water over sand and stone. Clear enough to see through. Deep enough to drown in anyway.
Hello, did you know that vampires have heat cycles...? you can fact check it on Google 😋
Would love to see what you can do with that information 😘
Keep up the good work your writing is just MUAH 💋🔥😻
Hi anon! Thanks for the info... Really inspiring *wink wink*
When you started dating your vampire boyfriend, you thought everything would be normal and good. You thought he would be into your blood, which he was. He was into everything you did at any point of time. It was exhilarating to know you could turn him on so fucking much and so easily... Maybe you should have seen the signs when that started to be a bit too much.
It all started with him grinding against your ass as you did your makeup. Nothing too serious, you just thought he was horny (as always). He had the highest libido ever, and you indulged him more than not. So when he pulled up your dress and pushed your panties aside, you thought nothing of it. He fucked you as you panted, your face the only one in the reflection in front of you, making it feel filthier and hornier than it should. It was amazing. But it didn't end up there. He came in you three times before you finished doing your makeup, holding you up because your legs were trembling. He set your panties straight after, and left you there with damp panties and pussy sore. You loved it.
You went out and he insisted on taking you to the bathroom, where he proceeded to eat you out and then bite your thigh to have a little snack. Then fucked you against the door as you heard people moving around outside. You were sure everyone knew you got fucked within an inch of yourself in that bathroom.
But it didn't end up there.
When you got home he felt feverish, his face unusually red and his hands shaking as he tore down your clothes (literally) and pushed you on the floor to rut against your ass. He couldn't even push it inside because he was that desperate. He came over your ass and recovered a tiny bit. He told you something about heat that you didn't understand fully. But good goddess if you didn't understand later on.
He fucked you frantically for what felt like hours, dragging your body around the house, fucking you in every surface, sometimes not even in a flat position, holding you in crazy poses as he fucked your sore hole. You didn't ask him to stop. You didn't want him to. It was exhilarating and exciting and he was thrusting into you in such crazy state... Knowing that you could drive him that level of horny drove you to new highs.
By the time he was done, all your holes were overflowing with his warm seed. Your neck and legs filled with tiny bites as he feed off you, and you... You were passed out because of oversensitivity and the insane amount of orgasms he gave you.
You were glad vampires had a heat.
Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis
This is highly inspired by @oh-for-fic-sake's work which I have been binge reading recently on my second blog. Now, I am a firm believer that the MCU and DCEU should not mix. They don't belong together. But this idea just had me salivating and I'd do anything for good smut. If you'd like a prequel or sequel, I'd be happy to oblige. If there even are still people who read a/b/o fics, other than myself.
Pairing: Thor Odinson x reader x Clark Kent
Summary: While you and your mates are at the knot-friendly beach, you can't help but want to get frisky.
Warnings: threesome, mxm, fxm, mxfxm, p in v, semi-blowjob, a/b/o, knotting, meantions of heats and rutting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, mixing of universes, talk about pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), afab reader, no mention of skin colour or weight. If there are any more please do tell.
Word count: 2,7k
You’re not sure how exactly you ended up in this situation. You’re the most envied woman on the planet. Gossip blogs, and news articles were all over you. The first mate of two in thousands of years. And not any two either, mated to the two strongest alphas on the planet, and beyond. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, prince of the nine realms. And Superman, the God amongst men.
Not everyone knew about Superman, everyone did know about Clark Kent. Mated to one of the most famous journalists and the God of Thunder? All to this young twenty-year-old girl. It was a shock to be sure and you can’t help but drink up every moment of it.
Even now, as you relax on the omega/alpha beach you can’t help but love every second of it. Thor, as usual, has gone off to make friends. His beautiful long blonde sand colour hair sways in the win as he jumps to slam the volleyball back up in the air. His stomach muscles strain and you can’t help but feel yourself get hot and heavy.
“You enjoying the view?” Clark asks with a smirk pulling you closer to his side. “I’m sure he can smell you from all the way over there.” You smirk, leaning into to him. “And you’re telling me you aren’t enjoying his preening too?” The man of steel chuckles.
“How can I not? I’ve got the prettiest omega in the world stuck to my side with another alpha who loves fucking her with me.” You smirk, pushing one of his legs between your own and grinding his knee against your slit, begging for some sort of friction. “Speaking of fucking...”
You can hear him groan and roll his eyes. You can’t help but smirk at his reaction and pull yourself closer to him. Slotting your nose against his neck, scenting his smile and Thor’s own mark on the man of steel. Licking and nipping at that very same sensitive spot. You can tell Clark is struggling with his own mind, his hand gripping tighter to your ass.
“Omega, you’re testing me...” he mutters, trying to keep his composure and tune out your mewling noises. Or the fact that these already small swim shorts get even smaller. Tighter and tighter every time that you lick and suck on those sensitive nerves of his.
“It's a knot-friendly beach, no one here would care. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’d even enjoy the show.” You whisper into his ear, making small circles on his chest and then trailing lower. “Yes, everyone else on the planet too. I’m not exactly keen on having my cock plastered on the daily planet.”
You groan out, then see Thor very well heard how frustrated you are and you’re sure smell it too. “Fine, I’ll ask Thor then.” You huff, going to stand and give him the best puppy eyes you could. You know very well he’d do it in a heartbeat. Public knotting isn’t just normal on Asgard but smiled upon. Even done to boost morale.
You remember how strange he found it. When you and Clark met him for the first time, seeking him out after the attack on New York, you had gone into immediate heat. Sending both the boy into a rut. Thor insisted on taking you there and then, but with much, much self-control from Kal, you three managed to make it back to you and Clark’s farmhouse.
Kal grabs you by your wrist, he knows if your go to Thor he’ll make a big spectacle of it. Everyone will be involved and invited to watch. If he does it perhaps it can happen more quietly. He grabs you by the back of your neck, he himself sitting more upright. He pulls you in close and whispers in your ear.
“You want to be fucked?” He asks, knowing the answer, he can smell the answer from you. You smirked, biting your lip and giving a curt nod. He also smirks and lays back down on his beach chair. He tilts his head to his growing cock and nods. You gasp out with a wide smile, “You mean it?” He smiles and nods again.
“This is a knot-friendly beach. Nothing done here should be new or even considered publish-worthy.” He shrugs, more so reasoning with himself than with you. He loves seeing his little omega so excited. You reach down his shorts and allow his massive cock to spring free from its imprisonment.
You can already see his bright blue irises turning an intoxicating black-blue colour. Like that in which the creepiest sea creatures drift in the fast ocean. A colour you and Thor both like to call sex-blue. Thor also had his very own variation of sex-blue.
The pre-cum leaks from his throbbing, red and sensitive tip. Like a kitten, you lap it up with your cute pink tongue. From the very top down to the base of his hairy abdomen. He watches your every move. Like a starving child, you lick every inch of him, wetting him with your own spit.
Then you move his legs in between your knees. You pull on the green bows tying your bikini bottom together. Clark's eyes consume every inch of you, watching the small cloth fall and reveal your mound. “See? I told you and Thor there is a good reason for me to wear these.” You giggle, rubbing your slit against his base.
“So, this was planned all along?” He grunts out, grabbing you by the hips and lining your body up with his. You can’t even reply before he spears you, filling you up from the inside. All that you can let out is a yelp and then a loud moan. He too throws his head back with a groan.
“I can’t ever get over how tight you are, perfectly moulded, huh?” He allows you to get comfortable. And then lifts you back up and down on his huge cock. You throw your head back, it was always such a new feeling to you. One you crave far more often than you cared to admit.
Thor’s senses were going crazy. He can smell the arousal from you and from Clark. He loves it and if he could bathe in the smell he would. In fact at home, he even tried to. Every chance he has, he gathers both of you in the nest you made and fucks the both of you silly. Then after he tries to soak up as much of the scent as he can.
And now he’s sure every other person here can smell it, but none are covered in it like he is. None can join anytime they want as he can. He just loves it. But Thor is smart, maybe not smart like Tony or Bruce. Yet he knows the game his other Alpha is getting at. He also knows what his Omega is getting at.
You want everyone to know and Clark rather keep you both all to himself. But that’s what the older Alpha is there for, to satisfy both of your needs. “My, my, my, what do we have here?” His voice is deep and low and your walls seem to clench tight at his deep dominant voice.
Thor notices instantly, he knows he has that effect on you both. Clark pulls you deeper into him. He barely even notices the other Alpha there, his own instincts flooding him with lust and nothing else. Privacy seems to be at the very back of his mind right now.
“Everyone can smell you two, all wet and sticky. Being fucked silly.” You let out a loud moan at his words and the God can’t help but chuckle. Then he attaches his lips to yours. Dominating your tongue and swallowing your moans. “You like that, huh? Do you like everyone watching you? Such a slut.”
He grabs you by your neck and whispers in your ear. His other hand cupping your tit through the neon green bikini. He twists and he pulls on your covered nipple. Lapping up your mouth. He loves the thrill of knowing that his words only make you bounce faster on Clark’s cock.
“You hear that, my pretty boy, she likes everyone seeing you fuck her silly. Fucking her so good.” Thor bends down low, whispering in Kal’s ear. Sticking his nose into his neck and pulling the scent from his mark. To everyone out there in Metropolis, Superman is the man.
He’s the one who gives orders and doesn’t take shit from the government. He’s the one in charge, saving lives and calling the shots. He’s the one strong enough to carry the weight on his shoulders. But at home, he plays an entirely different role. At home, he’s Thor’s pretty boy.
Clark comes home to an Omega, ready to be coddled and scented all over. To let his frustrations out. Someone who will gladly listen to him and sit when he asks and spreads when he asks. And then his own Alpha comes home. Coddles the both of them and tells him what a good job he did, taking care of their Omega.
Someone to praise and someone to praise him. The perfect dynamic, for you too. Easily filled and by the time your next heat comes around, you’ll be off the pills and pupped up before you know it. At least that is what both the boys are hoping for, they work hard every day to convince you of it... You’ve been a bit hesitant so far.
Though right now that’s far from where Clark’s focussed. Right now all he can think about is Thor buttering him up real good. “Look at that, she’s pulling you in with that delicious pussy of her’s” He forces his eyes open, forcing him to look, knowing it’ll bring him to the edge.
That it does, the man takes you by the hips and flips you over on your back. Fast enough that you only notice that he’s deeper inside you. Thor can help himself, he can’t help but reach down and rub your sensitive clit. Red and pulsing, begging for attention.
That’s enough to bring you over the edge, your legs shake and your walls clench around him. Clark can’t help but watch you pour out around him. Clenching and pulling all at the same time. This too pushes him further, he latches his lips onto yours.
The man of steel can feel himself growing bigger and bigger. He can feel himself forming around you. Pushing himself deeper, until he can feel himself right up close to your cervix. He is finally thrown overboard when Thor grabs him by the neck and gives him a sloppy deep kiss.
You can feel his hot seed pour into you. Like the first hot water to hit your back at the start of a shower. Overcoming and overbearing. Nothing else is there but the two Alphas. One deep inside you, pumping his hot seed into you and the other one throat deep into that same Alpha.
That is until the high begins to fall and you notice the crowd that had formed. Whispers going around, “Look at how big he is!” “How does that even fit?” “If I were her I’d be ripped open.” Clark can’t help but peacock at their shock. Pushing further into you as his hot cum fills you.
His knot is still big, even after the high has worn off. He’s not even sweaty or out of breath! You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to keep up with them. As your chest is heaving, your legs feel numb and shaky. You feel so full and pressed and pulled.
“It seems we’ve got a crowd.” You try to giggle but you’re still chasing after your breath. “Yes, even after I tried so hard to avoid it.” He groans, pushing out his last few pumps of cum before his knot finally calms down. Until he can finally pull out of you, drinking up the way that cum just pours out of you.
“Is this you avoiding a crowd?” You can’t help but chuckle at him. His hands are quick to swat at your ass. “Hey, little miss, this was your idea. Don’t get snippy with me.” He commands, pulling his soft dick back into his swim shorts.
Finally, Thor stands back up but your eyes grow wide. His shorts also have a massive tent, not to mention soaking wet with what you can smell as pre-cum. The God of Thunder knows good and well that Clark would like to get out of this without anyone knowing it's him.
This omega of theirs is bring out a much wilder side to him. Thor gives Clark another sloppy, wet kiss. “Go on, get us some drinks. Anyone asks or takes any photos you bring them to me, got it?” He nods, his cheeks red and flushed, from pride, embarrassment and excitement all bundled into one. "I’ll take care of them.”
And with that Clark gave you a kiss and was jumping to follow his orders. Thor stands in front of you, covering you with his body. His colossal cock is hard to miss. Seeming needy and ready for only one thing. His stature is huge, standing more than 5cm taller than their Superman.
The God of Thunder and the prince of the nine realms bares his teeth and growls at the people gawking. The same way he would when addressing his people. When commanding his military force, when charging into battle. It’s an Alpha command, one not even Kal-El can dismiss. Simple and clear. Leave and forget who you saw.
Not a single one disobeyed. They all drag their feet and most of the Alphas hang their head low. Each and every one of them baring their neck. He turns back to you, he sees you soaking all over again. “You like that, little omega? Does my little princess like me having to command all these people, all these Alphas, to stop gawking?”
He pulls you closer by your feet. Scenting his and Clark’s mark on your neck. Licking and sucking all the spots he knows so well. “To stop staring at this beautiful pussy. At what’s mine?” You bare your neck, knowing you’re going to get one hell of a punishment for manipulating Clark like that.
“Why don’t I throw you over my shoulder? Parade you around town, since you want everyone to look.” You gasp, he wouldn’t! He chuckles at your reaction. “I don’t think my pretty boy would like that very much and he’s not the one being punished here.” You bite your lip, he knows that you know what you did.
Just then Clark returns with the drinks. Thor smiles at him, tying the strings of your bikini back up again and picking you up. He places you down on your feet, “Go, clean yourself off while the Alpha’s talk, yeah?” He gives you a light smack on your bottom. You know defying will only worsen your situation. You jump and scurry off.
Thor smirks and pulls Clark into his lap. Grabbing the drink and taking a long sip. Superman can feel his Alpha’s dick on his back. Huge and heavy. He can feel him scenting his mark and growing even bigger. “So mean of that little one, huh? Using you like this...”
He trails off, pulling Clark just a bit closer and grinding into his ass. “I might just do the same. Just look at what you do to me...” Kal can’t help but moan and lean into Thor at the thought. His chuckle is dark and ruthless. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can feel it.”
Thor’s hands wander, groping Clark's wet and semi-hard cock. “It’s okay pretty boy, we won’t do that, not yet anyways. Considering that that little one needs a punishment. You can choose after all.” They both can help but grin at the thought, watching as your soaking body walks across the sand.
Been thinking about a werewolf baby trapping you, just a poor thing so pent up that the first opportunity he gets to fuck someone, he wants to make sure they stay (by putting a litter of pups in them)
Request2 (had it writen down but can't find it): Something about a feral not quite sapient werewolf really does it for me. Can't even talk to you, doesn't think, only knows: "Pussy makes knot feel so good" so he just humps and humps and whines and keens, hoping the burning ache in his cock will end. He's an animal hunting for pleasure
Feral breeding
Werewolf x fem!reader || knotting, breeding, (lowkey) heat, overstimulation
Were you thinking you’d be getting dicked down and bred when you walked out of your house to go on a first date with a werewolf? No. Are you happy about it? Of course. Who would be idiotic enough to complain when your knees are at your ears and there’s an eager werewolf licking your pussy to get you ready for his huge monster cock? Not you. You are grateful.
The werewolf in question appeared at your house around two hours ago, and he looked very handsome, very hot. Even hotter than in the app pics, if that was even possible. His furry body and body builder frame caging you in for a hug the second he crossed the threshold. You reciprocated with a giggle, and your whole body went pliant the second his claws grabbed your hips and he growled against your neck.
The short “mine” whispered against your skin was a surprise, but everyone knew about werewolves finding their fated mate through scent alone. That’s how you discovered humans could be werewolf mates. For the rest… That’s all on him and his magical werewolf dick.
He ripped your nice clothes off your body while you gasped for air, his pheromones swimming in the air, making it dense and transforming your pussy into a waterfall. You’ve never been that wet, and the second he smelled it in the air, it’s like his whole body tensed and released a second later. Released on you.
The werewolf pushed you to the ground, opening your legs and pushing them back until he could fit between them, his tongue leveled with your pussy before he started eating you out like you were his last meal and he was about to die. You could only hold on for dear life as he kept licking and sucking and getting you wetter than the fucking ocean.
By the time he pulled back, you were almost crying in desperation to come. But he only grunted something about coming on his cock, and you were too far gone to even try to argue. Why would you? You needed him inside of you, too.
His preparations paid off the second he pressed his dick against your opening, pushing in one hard thrust that you felt from your tiptoes to the last hair of your head. It was like his dick was magic and he could fuck every cell of your body at once.
Your orgasm was ripped off you, pulled from your body by an otherworldly force that left you gasping while his dick fucked you rough and raw. Right there. On the ground.
“You want my knot? You want to be knotted like a good little pet?” He growled against your neck, his fangs threatening against your jugular while you whined a short agreement, your brain too far gone to consider anything but the pleasure he was giving you.
And that’s how you find yourself being knotted and bred to his heart’s content. “Your pussy. Fuck. Your pussy is so good. It’s strangling my knot. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He keeps chanting curses while you try to focus for a second, trying to remember what year it is, but your brain is still fried. “You feel so good. Your pussy is perfect. You are going to be so pretty when you are full of pups. You are going to look perfect. All full of me. All mine.”
You don’t have the heart to tell him you are on the pill, but his words are building something new inside of you. You’ve never come twice with a partner. It’s more likely that you don’t come at all, but right now, with the combination of his knot pressing against your G-spot and his words, you feel the telltale sign of a new orgasm approaching.
You try to reach out to touch your clit, but he bats your hand away. “You come on my knot or you don’t come at all,” he growls.
You shiver at the dominance in his tone, blinking slowly and crying out when he starts to move his hips in a circular motion. He’s rubbing your G-spot so well you can see bright spots at the corner of your vision. You are pretty sure he’s about to make you come just from that… You can feel it. It’s so close… You are so close.
“I need… I need…” You try to tell him, but your voice breaks when he pushes your legs further up, your knees to your ears.
The change of positions makes his knot feel even bigger inside of you. He’s pressing onto something much deeper than your G-spot, your whole body electrified when he ruts against your ass.
The sparks of pleasure are so high and so intense your next orgasm hits you like a train to the chest. You don’t scream. You only open your mouth and close your eyes as a wave of blinding pleasure washes over you. He groans, rutting harder, making your orgasm longer, filling you more and more until you don’t know where he ends and you’re begging. His dick is so deep it’s bruising your cervix, his come overflowing…
plus sized reader! breeding kink, taking photos during intercourse
Ever since you had started taking fashion advice from Yandere!Femboy, you had started feeling very confident in yourself.
You felt as though you were actually styling your clothes now.
The shirt you had on today was very tight and made your chest look amazing. Ultimately, you decided to rebel a bit and take some sexy pictures! You just felt so beautiful!
You opened your camera, tilted it a bit so that your face was out of frame, and pushed your boobs up so that your cleavage could be so provocative that the cups of your bra were now showing.
You bit your lip as you studied the photo. It was cute, but you felt much more rebellious. You disregarded the shirt and bra all together. You quickly snapped a picture and smiled as you studied them. They were super cute! Your soft tits looked absolutely delectable. Nipples and supple skin around them pulled tight into hardened buds. Your skin shiny and smooth. You were more than satisfied.
You decided you would send them to yourself so you could delete them from your camera roll.
Just your luck, you accidentally end up sending them to Yandere!Femboy’s contact. Poor boy was so unsuspecting!
Before you could realize what you had done, he was blowing up your phone.
[Ooulala! For me?]
[You’re so hot!]
[Fuck I need my mouth on you right now.]
[I’m about to come over!]
[Fuck, my cock is hard! :P]
Your eyes widened immediately at that, and you quickly went to unsend them.
[Those were not for you! Fuck!]
[Not for me? Too bad! I already downloaded them.]
[Who the fuck were they for then?]
[Open your door!]
You gulped as you got out of bed and quickly pulled on some pajamas. This had all happened within the span of 10 minutes. No way he was outside your door for real.
Yandere!Femboy was indeed standing at your door. He had on a long pink robe accompanied by loose sleeping shorts to match.
Poor boy probably rolled out of bed so quickly for you because he still has his sleep mask sat atop of his head.
You tried to ignore the hard dick bulging through the shorts.
“H-hey!” you said nervously.
Yandere!Femboy pushes his way into your space with a look of determination and slight anger on his face.
“Tell me, who the fuck were you sending your tits to if it wasn’t me huh?” he questioned as he quirked a brow.
“No one! They were for me! My eyes only! Not for you!” you quickly defended yourself.
“Liar!” he snarled as he got up in your space, attacking your lips feverishly.
The kiss was not cute or sweet. It was angry and rushed.
Yandere!Femboy whose hands roamed your body as if you were already his. His hands trailed down your back, wrapping around you until they got to your ass. He sleazily dipped his hand into the waistband of your pajama pants, squeezing the fat of your ass.
“This is mine! Your hot little pussy only belongs to me, kay?” he placed a sweet little peck to your cheek before licking a strip up it. You grimaced a bit at that, but found it undeniably hot.
Yandere!Femboy who yanks you into your room before he starts stripping you. He quickly removes your top, admiring every part of you.
He gives your tits a gentle squeeze before running his tongue over your hardening nipple.
“If you wanted to slut it up for someone else, you can do that for me too, huh? I’m your best friend right?” he pouted before.
He sucked his teeth as he admired you. He slowly stood back up to his full height and pressed himself against you until all of your nakedness could be felt against his fully clothed body.
“I am going to fuck you so hard in your sweet little pussy. Then you won’t remember anyone else but me,” he giggled as he pulled away.
Yandere!Femboy who had you on your bed with your ass up. He loved this view of you.
“Oh look at you,” he whimpered as he kneaded the doughy fat of your ass in his hands. He spread your cheeks exposing your holes. One clenching undeniablely, the other soaking wet and eager.
“All this for me?” he teased before leaning down to lick a strip all the way from your clit to your asshole. “Yeah. That’s all mines.”
Yandere!Femboy who fucked you within an inch of your life. His cock bruising your cervix greatly juxtaposed the sweet cooing he did in your ear as he leaned over you.
“Sweet girl. You can’t take care of this needy pussy by yourself huh? Trying to slut it out to other boys? I’m all you need, honey. Isn’t that right? Isn’t my cock all yours?”
“Y-yes! Mines! You’re all mines!”
He giggled at that as he quickened his pace. Your body was bouncing off of his. The sounds of skin against skin was purely sinful. The smell of sex wrapped around the room almost in a comforting hug.
You had to snap your eyes shut to keep them from crossing when his fingers found your clit.
“See, I can make you cum! That’s not enough for you though! You’re insatiable. I probably just need to have you sit on plastic cocks all day to keep you satisfied. Stretch that pussy until it’s ruined for everyone but me.”
“Yes! Fuck! Yes!” you mewled as you gripped the sheets. “Gonna cum!”
Yandere!Femboy who pulls out to the tip before spitting directly onto his cock and stuffing it back into you.
You squealed as you clenched around him. You felt yourself tip over! Spend gushing out of you.
“That’s it. Squirt on my dick pretty!” he giggled. “Fuck I’m gonna cum in you. Make you mines.”
His smile was devious though you couldn’t see it. You were caught in post orgasm delirium.
He quickened his pace as he stared down at his cock rutting in and out of you in pure eagerness.
“Cumming! Fuck! Marking this pussy,” he groaned as hot cum shot from his cock, staking it’s claim on your clenching cunt.
Yandere!Femboy who keeps you in the same position even after he’s pulled out. His cum slowly drips down, making it’s way to your clit.
Yandere!Femboy who quickly snaps a picture of your leaking cunt.
“There we go! Now, I know this one is all for me!”
