Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, heavy use of petnames, blowjobs, dirty talk, praise kink, rough bokuto, raw sex, wet and messy, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering, squirting, creampie, choking kink, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 YEARS
Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Female Reader
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Bokuto, who turns out to be a lot harsher in bed than anyone thought.
Which is funny considering he acts like this gentle giant out in public with you.
Kissing you oh so sweetly. Running his knuckles up and down your arms lovingly.
Worshipping you in public, making you feel all soft and happy—everyone watching how delicate Bokuto treats you.
“Would you like some water, baby?”
“Are you tired, princess?”
“Want me to carry that for you, love?”
But behind closed doors? In your guys’ bedroom?
God—he’s practically a monster.
“Does that feel good, princess?” Bokuto asks as he tightens his hold on your hair, pushing his cock deeper down your throat. “You like it when I stuff your pretty mouth like this?”
When you two are alone, Bokuto is fucking insatiable and greedy with you.
You whimper around the girth of his cock as you suck him, feeling the weight of it heavy on your tongue, drool dripping down your chin as he fucks your mouth.
Bokuto holds your head in place—even when he’s using all of his strength, he’s still somehow gentle with it—and fucks your mouth like it’s nothing more than a fucktoy for him.
He groans, low and sweet. “There you go. Taking it all, baby.” You feel the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat. “Choking on my cock like a good little princess for me.”
He pulls out suddenly, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock, and you sputter with a cough as you try to catch your breath.
Bokuto cups your cheek—his palm so, so fucking gentle with the way he holds your face, it’s such a huge contrast to how he was abusing your throat—and he rolls the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.
He takes in how red and plump it is, wet from your saliva, how your eyes are teary from gagging on his fat cock—and he smiles down at you all softly. “Such a pretty girl.”
And god, you preen over the praises he gives you.
“You wanna show me how good you can be for me?”
How he makes you feel like you’re doing all of this to please him—being so good and making him happy—it all does things to you.
It also makes it so easy to comply as you let him guide you to get on your stomach, ass out in the air, and arching your back for him.
“Fuck,” Bokuto groans as he gets a handful of your ass, groping and squeezing it possessively as he kneads the flesh. “So perfect. Spread your legs for me, angel, let me see that pretty pussy.”
And when you do, opening your legs a bit more so you’re all vulnerable for Bokuto to see—
He groans at the sight of your slick pussy. “Fuck, baby. You're dripping wet for me already, aren't you? Such a needy little princess.”
He lines himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, letting it run through your slick folds and kissing your clit—teasing and making you drool with a line of your fluids beginning to leak down, creating a string that falls towards the bed.
It’s a fucking sight and Bokuto goes hazy with it, mumbling, “I need to taste you.”
He drops to his knees behind you, gripping your ass cheeks roughly as he spreads you wide—revealing more of your cunt, all warm and cute as he licks his lips.
He doesn’t let you get another thought in before he leans forward to bury his face in between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds as he groans against your skin.
And fuck—he’s messy and hungry when he eats you out.
Tongue twirling around your sensitive clit. Licking into you and sucking on your slit—tongue rolling as he makes noises, your juices leaking down his chin—
Sometimes it’s too much with the way he devours your puffy little pussy, making you twitch and gasp as you feel heat tingling up your spine and your nipples grow heavy with how close you are to coming.
“Oh god—Ko—” You sob, feeling him focus his attention on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly before giving your sopping cunt wide, flat strokes over and over with his tongue—starting from your clit and licking to your hole.
Covering your entire pussy with his mouth, sucking and kissing and eating it like a man high off the taste of you—
He doesn’t stop until you cry with a moan, your orgasm throbbing over you as you come on Bokuto’s relentless tongue.
“That’s it,” Bokuto groans in satisfaction, lapping up your fluids, making sure he gets every drop, licking your sloppy pussy until you’re almost overstimulated. “Come on my face like a good girl.”
Then he spits on it, making you gasp, before going back in to glide his tongue over your cunt—twirling it inside, a whimper escaping your throat—
But he’s not done.
He gives your soaked pussy a slap, his hand heavy and rough as it hits your poor little clit and folds—making you gasp and fall forward to shift away from the stinging touch.
He stands to lean over you, his breath hot against your ear as his face brushes against your cheek. “I need to feel you come on my fingers.”
He slips two fingers inside your cunt, hearing the wet squelch as he goes as deep as his fingers can reach, and starts a steady rhythm of fingering your pussy.
You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I-I can’t—”
“I know you can, baby.” Bokuto coos, hooking two fingers into your walls, his knuckles brushing against your g-spot, and he moves his arm up and down—causing your body to shake with it as he brings you to another orgasm.
“Fuck—“ Your eyes roll back, everything hot and blurry, as heat coils in your belly and your pussy buzzes with liquid pleasure as you squeeze and come on Bokuto’s fingers.
You feel your bladder get all tight and full, and you scream with a moan when Bokuto doesn’t stop and—
And fuck—you feel fluids spray out of you as you come.
Coming out in quick spurts, gushing all over Bokuto’s hand and thighs as he fingers you through it—hearing him let out a satisfied sound deep from his throat and right next to your ear.
“Look at that, princess,” Bokuto’s voice is rough and throaty, his fingers slipping out of you and giving your cunt another wet slap. “Look at the mess you made, soaking the bed with your pretty juices.”
He gives your cheek a sickeningly gentle kiss as he rubs and holds your pussy, his lips warm against your skin as he murmurs, “I wanna feel you do that again on my cock, love. You can do that for me, right?” He nips your ear, whispering. “You can be a good girl for me.”
And how are you supposed to refuse that?
Despite how achy you feel and how oversensitive—you don’t say no.
You let him turn you around to lay on your back as he pushes your legs towards your chest, exposing your dripping pussy to him.
You moan when he rubs the fat tip of his cock along your slit, your pussy folds hugging the length of him as it drools on him, feeling the heavy and warm weight of his dick against your cunt.
And your eyes go cross-eyed when you feel a thick palm press against your throat—his fingers wrap around your neck—and he squeezes enough to get you lightheaded and feeling oh so fucking good.
He rocks his hips, teasing your slutty pussy as the tip of his dick bumps against your clit, and he leans down to brush his lips against yours, murmuring, “Let me fuck this tight pussy, baby. Let me claim it as mine and fill you up with my cum until you're dripping. I need to feel your walls squeezing my cock as I split you open.”
He reaches with his other hand to grab your breast, pinching your nipple roughly. “Show me how a good girl makes her pussy feel around me.”
Fuck.
You shiver, feeling your nipples grow hard, and lean in to kiss him—mouth opening to slip your tongue into his mouth, moaning as you rock your hips in tandem with his to get him to slip inside you.
“That’s my good angel,” Bokuto smirks against your lips, and he wastes no time in pushing his cock into your greedy pussy—going as deep as he can go until you’re nearly choking on it.
“Oh god—” You choke with a moan with how fucking full you feel, his fat dick splitting you open as he slowly rolls his hips to fuck it in and out of you.
“You’re so goddamn tight, princess,” Bokuto picks up the pace, the wet sound of him fucking your abused pussy fills your ears, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. “You take it so well.”
And when he fucks you—he does it to ruin you.
Squeezing your throat until you can’t speak.
Pounding into that little pussy until you’re creaming on his cock and you’re so fucking wet you can hardly feel him anymore.
You can barely speak—just a litany of curses and gasps leaves your mouth as he fucks you.
“Open your mouth,” Bokuto says so softly when he leans close, his movements never stopping as you hear the loud smacking of his hips hitting your ass with every delicious roll of his hips.
And you listen, plump lips parting and waiting as you look at him with doe eyes, feeling heat go through your body when you see the satisfied grin he gives you in return.
He’s nasty with it when he fucks you too—spitting in your mouth, a glob of his saliva lands on your tongue that makes you clench around him—and he gives your delicate throat another squeeze as he murmurs, “Swallow.”
And when he comes—fuck it’s so much and so messy that you nearly swell with it.
He lets out a low groan and buries his cock deep inside your pussy, thick loads of hot, sticky cum spurts inside you, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.
He fills you to the brim. “Take every last drop, baby.” And your pussy drinks it all—like it’s thirsty for his cum as you throb around him, breathing heavily as little bits of his cum begin to leak with how full your cunt is.
“God,” Bokuto huffs against your neck as he slides one hand down to touch your belly, feeling it a little inflated. “You took it all like a good girl. Your pussy is nice and full now. I bet you can feel it sloshing around in there, angel.”
And when he finally pulls out, his softening cock slipping out of your well-fucked pussy—all red and fat and puffy with your juices and his cum everywhere—he doesn’t stop playing with your pretty cunt.
He slides two fingers up your slit, collecting his cum—god it’s so much he just knows you’ll be leaking for days after this—and he pushes his load back into your sweet pussy, watching the way your face changes with pleasure as he leisurely fingers his cum back inside you.
“Let me take care of you now, love,” He moves forward to give your forehead a soft kiss. “You did so good for me.”
thinking about cowboy!clark kent talking you through riding him in his awfully charming southern drawl.
"yeah, there ya' go, honey," he's guiding your hips on his cock with big, warm, calloused hands heavy on your skin, his tip hitting that sweet spot inside you with each bounce.
there's an obvious bulge in your tummy from just how big he is, disappearing and reappearing with every shift of your hips.
"ohgod–" you choke out a whine, resting your sweaty forehead on his broad shoulder, letting him do most of the work by manually moving your hips. "s'big, clark" you bite down on his shoulder, his salty skin coating your tongue. that pulls a groan from him, he's rubbing the fat of your ass tenderly.
"i know, baby. i know" he's so loving, so incredibly doting that you can't help but cry out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him as his cock nearly splits you open.
"feels good though, don't it?" he drawls, gripping the hair on your head gently and pulling your face from the crook of his neck so he can pepper reverent kisses on your flushed, damp skin. "my pretty baby, jus' want t'make you feel good" he coos, head lolling back as your pussy flutters around him in response to his sweet words.
"fuck, clark" your face twists in pleasure, limbs turning into puddles as you feel that knot in your gut tightening impossibly. greedy hands roam his body, your fingertips running over his tanned arms and squeezing at his biceps. "m'close" you breathe out, looking down and literally moaning at the sight of the creamy white ring at the base of clark's member.
"i know it, sweet girl. can feel ya' milkin' me" he shakes his head, huffing a chuckle that shifts into a groan as you dig your manicured nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in your wake. he doesn't mind when you mark him up, if anything it makes him twitch inside of you.
his balls tighten up, heavy with cum as you grind down on him a few last times before your orgasm washes over you, leaving you moaning whorishly into his skin as he fucks up into you. "aw, there ya go, s'good h-honey, love you, sweetheart" he praises you for cumming, as if he didn't just do all of the work. "claaark" you breathe out, collapsing on top of him as a post-orgasm calm washes over you.
he finishes shorty after you, as he always makes it a goal to get you to finish before him. he thrusts up into you sloppily and shoots his warm release deep inside of you, making you squirm on top of him from the strange sensation. "i know, baby, feels weird..." he groans lowly, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back.
he lets you collapse on top of him, basically a puddle from how fucked out you are. he's pressing little kisses to your bare shoulder every so often, making sure you're as comfortable as you can be. "did so good for me, honey." he's just the sweetest cowboy. <3
Summary: You’re the real prize, not the money that Jason won through playing blackjack.
Warning: MDNI 18+, smut, gambling, a little jealousy, casino, mirror sex, breeding, unprotected sex, spanking; wc: 2.7k
3K Special Event
The casino never really sleeps. Or was it New York that never really sleeps? No, I’m pretty sure it’s the casinos in Vegas.
Even at nearly one in the morning the people inside are alive with laughter, ringing slot machines, clinking glasses, and the constant shuffle of cards against green felt. Every surface gleams beneath crystal chandeliers and warm golden lights that somehow make losing money feel glamorous. The carpet is bright with patterns, the perfume in the air expensive enough to rival the liquor, and somewhere nearby someone lets out a victorious shout that earns applause from complete strangers.
You walk through the crowd beside Jason, your fingers hooked around his forearm as if you might lose him among the hundreds of people flooding the casino floor. Not that Jason is easy to miss.
He’s wearing a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, the first two buttons undone because he insists Vegas is “too damn hot for standards.”
His dark hair is slightly messy from running his hand through it all evening, and his Jacob & Co watch around his wrist catches the light every time he gestures while talking.
You catch more than one woman looking at him. Jason of course notices, and sees the face you’re making.
“So,” He says without even turning his head, a crooked grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. “you gonna fight them or?”
“They’re just looking.” Jason adds when you stay silent.
“They’re breathing.” You snort.
“They’re definitely looking.”
You stop walking and you bump your shoulder into his. “They’re checking you out.”
Jason finally glances sideways, amusement written in his annoyingly intoxicating eyes. “And?”
“And…” You narrow your eyes dramatically. “I’m considering becoming violent.”
“Ohhh, sweetheart.” He laughs and slips an arm around your waist before pulling you against his side.
“I flew you to Vegas. I’m holding your hand. I’ve bought you three drinks, dinner, and that ridiculous stuffed flamingo because you said it looked lonely.”
“It did look lonely!!” You defend yours and the honor of the flamingo.
“It looked possessed.”
“It needed me.”
“It needed an exorcism. Should’ve called Constantine instead.”
You burst into laughter, and Jason shakes his head as though he’s accepted long ago that you’re impossible.
“My point is,” He continues, brushing a kiss against your temple. “They can look all they want.”
His hand slides comfortably into yours. “I’m going back to the hotel with you. And it’s only you who’s gonna be fucking me.”
“Jason!” Your heart does the annoying flip it always does whenever he says something so casually romantic and dirty.
“What? It’s one of my best qualities. Making you cum multiple times, and the way you scream my name too?”
“You don’t have any humble qualities?” You mumble, trying to avoid the conversation. Because you feel the heat form between your legs.
“I’ve got at least… one humble quality.”
“No.”
“Fair. But I still love you.”
—
The blackjack table has become Jason’s favorite plan. It wasn’t even the original plan. The original plan had been sightseeing, drinking overpriced cocktails, maybe a show or two, and exactly fifty dollars each for gambling “just for the real Vegas experience.”
That had lasted all of twenty minutes.
Jason had won his first hand. Then another. Then another. And it goes on. Jason more than doubled his money. Now several hours later there’s an impressive stack of chips sitting in front of him while a small crowd has quietly gathered behind his chair.
One older man whistles. “Damn, kid. You sure know how to plan.”
Jason only smiles politely. “You’ll jinx me.”
“You don’t look jinxable.” Which is… fair enough.
“I’ve had practice.” He says and you lean against the back of his chair, sipping another drink while watching him study his cards with the same concentration he usually reserves for assembling firearms or reading Tim’s files.
“You’ve got nerves of steel.” One of the dealers smiles.
“I’ve had stranger jobs. Trust me.” Jason shrugs.
You cough into your drink. “Understatement of the century.”
“You doubting me?” He glances back at you, with a sarcastic hurt in his face.
“I’m wondering if counting cards somehow became legal while I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I am deeply offended.” He puts his hand over his chest, acting like he’s hurt at what you just said.
“You should be.”
“I’ve got my beautiful girlfriend accusing me of crimes. Do you secretly hate me?”
“I didn’t accuse, and no you dramatic ass. I don’t hate you”
“You implied it though.”
“I implied the first part very strongly. Never the second one.”
He chuckles before setting another stack of chips forward. The dealer reveals the cards.
Twenty-one.
The table erupts. Someone behind you actually claps. Jason leans back with an almost disbelieving laugh as another mountain of chips gets pushed toward him.
“No fucking way.” You breathe.
“Oh, there’s definitely a way. Did you forget who your boyfriend is?”
“You are unbearably smug.”
“Awww baby, I haven’t even started.”
“You absolutely have.”
He gathers the chips together before standing. “I think that’s enough.”
“You don’t want to keep going?”
Jason looks down at the pile before looking back at you. “Nah.”
“You sure?”
“I came here to have fun.”
“You are having fun.”
“I’m having fun because I’m winning.”
“So…”
“And I’d like to leave while I’m still winning.” He replies, and there is this annoying smirk on his face, which unfortunately, makes him look undeniably sexy too.
You grin at his reponse. “That’s surprisingly responsible.”
—
By the time the cashier exchanges the chips for cash, you’re staring.
“Jason...”
“What?”
“That’s…” He folds the crisp bills neatly before slipping them into two huge envelopes. “…A lot.”
He shrugs. “Guess dinner tomorrow’s on me.”
“It was already on you.”
“Then breakfast.”
“You already paid for breakfast.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He slips an arm around your shoulders. “I’ll buy you literally anything you point at tomorrow.”
You pretend to think. “A Lion.”
“No.”
“A tiger.”
“Absolutely not.”
“A second lonely looking flamingo.”
“That, I can do.”
—
The elevator ride to the hotel suite is quieter. The adrenaline has settled into something softer now, replaced by tired smiles and the pleasant ache in your feet after hours of walking through Vegas.
The mirrored walls reflect the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. Jason catches your eyes in the reflection.
“What?”
“You keep smiling.”
“I’m happy.”
“Because I won?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” You shake your head. You don’t dare to elaborate on your thoughts. Because they’re very unholy. You can’t stop thinking about how good he will fuck you now that he won two large envelopes with money.
“You know…” He reaches over, taking your hand. “I would’ve had just as much fun if I’d lost.” He winks at you playfully.
“You would’ve laughed at me.” He quickly adds.
“I absolutely would’ve laughed at you.”
“Wow. My girlfriend is secretly my bully.”
“I would’ve comforted you afterwards, if that gives you comfort somehow.” You reply while trying your best to not laugh at his face.
“How generous of you.”
“I’m incredibly supportive.”
“You would’ve called me a loser.”
“While kissing your face. Big difference.”
—
The suite is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the glowing Las Vegas Strip, every building painted in neon colors that stretch endlessly into the desert night. Jazz hums quietly through hidden speakers while warm lighting fills the room with a kind of effortless luxury neither of you will ever fully get used to.
Jason closes the door behind him.
Then immediately tosses the two thick envelopes of cash onto the bed.
You blink. “Really?”
“What?”
“On the bed?”
“What about it?”
“You just-” Before you finish, Jason scoops the money back up, grinning like someone about to make the worst financial decision imaginable.
“Oh.”
“No.” You warn him.
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Jason.”
Then, with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, He throws the bills into the air. Money explodes above the bed like oversized confetti. Notes flutter lazily around the room, drifting onto pillows, the carpet, your shoulders, and finally into your hair.
You stare. He stares back.
“You absolute idiot!” You point your finger at him. God, he is so annoying sometimes.
“I’ve always wanted to do that!”
“Now we’ve got to pick all of this up!”
“Worth it.”
“It was your money!”
“Our money baby. Not mine.” Jason points triumphantly. You bend to pick up one of the scattered bills before tossing it straight at his chest. He catches it effortlessly.
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
You throw another bill. He retaliates immediately. Within seconds the two of you are laughing so hard neither of you can breathe, dramatically throwing handfuls of money back and forth despite both knowing you’ll have to collect every last bill afterward.
Eventually Jason gives up first, dropping backward onto the edge of the bed with a groan. “I surrender.”
“You’d better.”
“My shoulder hurts.” He mutters.
“You throw money dramatically once and suddenly you’re elderly?”
“I’ve lived several lifetimes.”
“You are in your early twenties, Jason.”
“I feel like I’m eighty.” You shake your head, smiling.
But Jason has one final plan before leaving the money rest somewhere on a counter. He picks up a handful of cash and looks at you. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, He’s stuffing the cash in your bra, and in your panties. Giving your clothed pussy a few taps, he pulls his hand away from you.
There is a dangerous smirk on his face, and the sight alone makes you wet enough for him to enter without any foreplay.
“There.” He says and gives your clothes pussy a little tap. “The money is somewhere safer now.”
“You are never doing that again. Fuck Jason.” You whisper loud enough for him to hear.
Jason watches you for a quiet moment. Then he stands. “Come here.”
You do. Without another word, he slips his hands around your waist and gently draws you closer until there’s barely any space between you.
“You know…” He murmurs, smiling down at you, “Best part of tonight wasn’t the cards.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
“You.” You roll your eyes. God, this man is really annoying sometimes. He is obviously teasing you. Making you wet and feeling needy for a second, and the next second he is being romantic.
As much as you love his romantic side, right now you need the side of him that fucks like he’s dying tomorrow.
“You’ve been flirting with blackjack dealers? Or where is this coming from?”
“I’ve been rehearsing.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
“For me?” You ask him, even though you know the answer.
“Only for you.” Your smile grows impossibly softer.
“You sap.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face before taking your hand.
“C’mon.” He says with a smirk on his face. “You said your makeup’s probably a disaster.”
“It definitely is.” You reply. You know damn well what his plan is. He’s not as slick as he thinks he is.
“Bathroom?” You nod. Together, you wander into the enormous marble bathroom. The bright vanity lights spill across polished countertops, and the mirrors reflect the two of you standing close enough that your shoulders touch.
You turn on the faucet, reaching automatically for a washcloth, but Jason gently catches your wrist before you can.
“What?”
He simply looks at you for a second, the teasing grin from downstairs replaced with something quieter. “You look beautiful.”
“You’ve been staring at me all night.”
“Exactly.”
You shake your head, smiling. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’ve accepted that.” His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles before he closes the small distance between you.
“You gonna kiss me,” You whisper. “or keep giving romantic speeches?”
Jason chuckles under his breath. “I was getting there.”
He cups your face with one hand, and you rise onto your toes to meet him halfway.
The kiss is slow, and passionate, filled with affection. For a little while, the sounds, the cars and the people cheering of Vegas disappear entirely. Jason deepens the kiss by tilting your head, allowing himself to sink deeper into your mouth.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself to him. And fuck, his lips are so warm and soft. They part slightly, his tongue in your mouth slowly to match the rhythm of your breathing.
A shiver runs down your spine, the heat from his chest spreading through your entire body. When he pulled away, you feel completely lightheaded, the taste of him still on your tongue.
“Fuck. I’m gonna ruin you.” Jason mutters under his breath before crashing his lips onto yours again, devouring you.
While kissing you passionately, Jason works on removing your clothes from your body. Shaky hands removing your panties that was filled with money. All coming down.
Breaking from the kiss, he turns you around, and starts kissing your neck like a hungry man. All you can do is steady yourself against the sink, and let your head fall back against his shoulder. You can’t help but leave choked breaths as his lips kiss and suck the sensitive skin on your neck.
“Keep breathing for me baby.” He whispers.
You hear him remove his jeans, allowing his hard cock to spring free. His hands hold your waist, and you feel Jason teasingly rub his cock against your folds.
“Look at yourself while I ruin you.”
Before you can answer him, the shark crack of his hand striking your ass echoes through the bathroom. At which he earns a ragged moan from you. You turn to look at yourself in the mirror, and catch the big smirk on Jason’s stupid, and handsome face.
“Jason…please.”
“Hm? What do you want sweetheart?”
“I want you to fuck me already.”
“So demanding.” Jason replies teasingly.
He slaps your ass a few more times, at which you flinch at first. But now the sharp pain only made the tension in your muscles loosen into this desperate need.
Holding your hips steady, he pushes his hard cock inside your wet and tight pussy. Your breathing hitch as you feel your walls try, and adjust to his big size.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” You hear Jason whisper from behind you. His one hand comes and holds you roughly by your face, forcing you to look at your messy face in the mirror. Not giving you the chance to even turn your face away from the mirror.
“Look at yourself while I’m fucking you.”
Jason starts moving his cock, sending thrusts inside your needy cunt. Your walls are swallowing him completely, and you hear him groan at the feeling.
“Ja- hmph- Jason.” You call out for him as you feel your knees start to buckle due to the pleasure. “Mhh… You’re so deep.”
Jason lets out a possessive laugh, and you feel his cock sink deeper into your wet pussy, and this earns him a wet moan mixed with you screaming his name.
His one hand that was resting at your heated curve of your hip start tracing, and testing the line between pleasure and ache.
“Taking me so well.” He whimpers before he continues his sentence. “I love you so much. I love you so fucking much.”
“Jaaaason.” You cry out his name which only makes him harder.
Picking up his speed, he now thrusts his whole length inside you passionately. The echo of skin slapping against skin is the only thing filling the room.
Well, it’s also mixed with you moaning, and Jason whimpering above you.
Your fingernails dig deep into his veiny hands, and you’re sure they’ll leave a mark once you let go.
His cock pounding deep inside you makes you feel intoxicated. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling, and your mouth hangs open.
“Oh my god… yes. Don’t stop. Pleasemhhh.”
A restless shiver runs down your frame, unable to stay still. Your hips are hitching, your thighs are trembling, and parting wider. Allowing Jason to sink deeper inside you.
“So squirmy. Fuck baby, hold still for me.” He mutters, followed by choked breath. “Look how good you take it hmph-”
Jason feels himself get close, cries out your name, and slams thrusts of climax into you, painting your walls white.
“My baby. You did so well for me.” He whispers sweetly, and kisses the side of your face.
You feel the pulsating wave wash over you, and you cum around Jason’s dick.
“That’s my girl.” He praises you, and pulls out his cock from your flushed cunt. You let your whole body rest completely on top of the bathroom sink, and close your eyes for a single second.
“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up.” You hear Jason say sweetly.
The afterglow doesn't last long. Clark's breath steadies against your neck, but you feel him hardening again inside you, his cock twitching with renewed interest. You shift, clenching around him experimentally, and he groans, hips bucking once involuntarily. “Already?” you tease, voice husky from your cries, tracing a finger down his sweat-slicked chest.
He lifts his head, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, a predatory glint replacing the tenderness. “You think one round is enough after all this time?” His voice is a low rumble, vibrating through your joined bodies. Without warning, he rolls you onto your stomach, pulling out with a wet pop that leaves you empty and aching. You push up on your elbows, but his hand presses between your shoulder blades, flattening you to the bed. “Stay down,” he commands, the authority in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat to your core.
You comply, ass lifting instinctively as he kneels behind you. His palms grip your hips, yanking them up higher, exposing your dripping pussy and the cum still leaking from it. “Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb spreading your folds, dipping into the mess he's made. “So full of me already, and you want more.” A sharp slap lands on your ass cheek, the sting blooming into warmth that makes you yelp and push back against his hand.
Clark chuckles darkly, delivering another smack, harder this time, the sound cracking through the room. Your skin reddens under his touch, and he soothes it with a rough knead before lining up his cock again. He doesn't ease in—he thrusts forward in one brutal shove, burying himself balls-deep. You scream into the pillow, the stretch intense with your sensitivity from before, but it feels incredible, his thickness splitting you open.
He doesn't give you time to adjust. His hands clamp onto your waist like vices, pulling you back onto him as he drives forward, setting a punishing rhythm. Each snap of his hips jolts you forward, your breasts scraping against the sheets, nipples hardening from the friction. “Fuck, your pussy's gripping me so tight,” he grunts, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back. The arch forces you to take him deeper, his cock dragging along every ridge inside you.
Tears prick your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, but you love it—the raw power, the way he claims you without restraint. “Harder, Clark,” you gasp, reaching back to dig your nails into his thigh. He obliges, pounding into you with superhuman force, the bed frame rattling as if it might give way. His free hand snakes around to your clit, pinching it sharply before rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur.
You cum again quickly, the orgasm ripping through you like lightning, your walls spasming around his length as you soak the sheets beneath you. Clark doesn't stop, fucking you through the convulsions, his pace unrelenting. “That's it, milk my cock,” he growls, releasing your hair to slap your ass again, the pain mixing with pleasure in a heady rush. He leans over you, chest pressing against your back, mouth hot on your ear. “I'm gonna fill you up again. Mark you as mine.”
His thrusts grow erratic, deeper, the head of his cock battering your deepest spots. You feel him swell, then he slams in one final time, roaring as he unloads, hot spurts painting your insides. Cum overflows, trickling down your thighs, but he stays seated, grinding lazily to push it deeper.
Finally, he pulls out, flipping you over gently this time—almost reverently. His face is flushed, hair disheveled, but he smiles down at you, brushing a strand from your forehead. “You okay?” he asks, voice soft now, thumb tracing your swollen lips.
You nod, pulling him down for a messy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Better than okay. Don't hold back next time.” He laughs, settling beside you, arm draped possessively over your waist. The night stretches ahead, full of possibilities, and you know he's just getting started.
when atsumu hears your goal is to be a little more stern with your workout routine, he’s sure to give you what the support, guidance, and love that you need.
he tells you that he's gonna be coach atsumu. not loverboy atsumu.
and you can't stand coach atsumu sometimes.
on the treadmill, he checks in on you briefly to make sure you can handle it before betraying you and increasing the goal time in 10 minute increments. “just give me 10 more babe, come on.”
when you’re using the leg press, he’s in your ear, cheering firm encouragements out to you to keep going, “give me one more round babe, go, go- don't you dare lock your knees-”
one time, you'd practically begged him to skip gym day, your stomach far too upset to conjure the idea of doing crunches in front of so many people on the cold machine. he merely scooped you up off the comfy bed and offered to change you into gym clothes himself.
coach atsumu is a fucking asshole.
it's not your fault that loverboy atsumu has to pay for coach atsumu's poor choices.
“please,” he whimpers, body trembling under you. “‘m sorry-“
you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve milked from your fiancé, elbows pinning his thighs down as you lazily jerk him for the nth time. doey eyes blink up at him, eyelashes batting innocently as you stroke him slowly, but deeply, through another one of your torturous orgasms. cum dribbles down your fist like an ice cream, shiny and mixing with the lube that makes his cock tingle in addition to providing you with the most lethal amount of slick to tease his throbbing cock with. his balls ache, drained and now dry from orgasm after orgasm in the grip of your cruel hands. his thighs are tense, trembling under your elbows that keep him firmly down. his head flails back and forth against the bed, chest heaving with shuddery sobs as he tries to ground himself from the crushing pleasure crumbling him to bits. his hands tear up the once made bed, heels digging into the mattress to form some method of escaping- with every shift of his body, his skull becomes 50 pounds heavier and his mind catapults far into a subspace he can only claw his way out of.
his body quivers in stimulation, crackles of pleasure making his vision fade momentarily as an exhaustive heat flares throughout his cock, once again coaxing another orgasm from your poor fiancé. his jaw widens enough to crack, eyes crossed in the center as jizz shoots weakly from his tip, purpling from extreme arousal that atsumu grits his teeth for.
"no m-ore," he croaks, voice cottony and crackled from pants clawing out of his throat. "no more! no!"
and to any normal person, atsumu's anguish would be taken seriously, a mercy thrown his way, he's learned his lesson, he won't push you again-
"oh, come on baby," you coo, drawled in a gooey tone that makes atsumu's toes curl. the verbiage is intentional.
it's the same croon he gives you when you're begging him for rest.
you practically see his pupils form into hearts as betrayal melts over his gaze.
the nightlife of gotham buzzes below the seedy apartment, the roof smelling of mildew and fresh rain. the shouts and car horns, however, don’t fully reach your ears. your mind is only on jason’s cock bullying deeper.
his hand is splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest pressed into the ductwork. your nipples pebbled from gothams night chill under your bra. the metal itself creaking and groaning beneath your weight with each thrust. your hands tied behind your back with jason’s black belt.
the damp fabric of lace shoved into your mouth garbles your whines; your cargos thrown somewhere near you in jason's haste. he shows no signs of letting up, his stamina unmatched—especially when he gets into one of these moods. the only concerns in his head are how deep can he bury himself in you and how many times can he make you cum.
the delicious drag of his cock against your spasming walls is enough for you to forget where you are. his thick length stretching you out justtttt enough to feel like he’s gonna split you open. your hips press back against his the best you can while your fingers grasp at the smooth leather for grounding.
“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he groans out from behind, sliding his hand down across your back. the warm palm lifts just to land a hard crack on your ass; the movement making your skin ripple. a whine-choked moan tearing out from around the lace cloth. his other hand forces your hips in place when you try to pull away from the sting. “quit squirmin’, sweetheart.”
jason doesn’t stop rutting into you, his thighs tensing every time your cunt squeezes tighter around him. the exact reason he couldn’t wait to get you home: he’s pussy-whipped. you aren’t much better; a few thrusts into your tight heat and you’re practically going cock-drunk.
every drag of his thick length sets your nerves aflame—the ridges of his member make your mind spin. he listens as your moans grow in pitch around the fabric, hips jerking under his rough touch. he slips his hand from your hip to your front, the rough pads of his fingers finding that sensitive bud.
your sopping hole flutters around his cock from the added stimulation, your knees nearly buckling under your weight. he’s relentless, rubbing tight circles against your needy clit just to hear your muffled sounds. your hands struggle against the restraints, the dark leather digging into your wrists.
“c’mon, i know you’re close, pretty girl,” he murmurs behind you, grinding his hips into yours—driving his cock deeper. the fat head of his tip brushing against that spongy spot deep inside of you. a fresh wave of wetness coating his cock as he feels that recognisable pleasure of your cunt’s velvety walls massaging his length. “there she is.”
jason switches between punishing thrusts and slow deep grinds, each deliberate angle of his hips sending you closer to the edge. his fingers pinch your pulsing clit gently, making your pussy drool around him. a broken sob falling from your gagged mouth.
your eyes roll back into your skull when he delivers another mean thrust, right at that sweet spot. the dam breaks as you cum hard, coating his cock in white. your release triggers his as he spills inside you with a hoarse grunt—his warm load coating your trembling walls.
he lets his head hang, abs clenching as he tries to catch his breath. your own breathing comes out in ragged pants, head pressed into the cool metal underneath you. his fingers working loosely at the belt, undoing the bindings. your shoulders ache from being kept in one place, but you’re not focused on the ache.
the feeling of his soft cock slipping out of your clenching hole is enough to keep you distracted. your combined releases dripping down your quivering thighs leave a sticky mess. A sharp inhale from the man behind you sends your hips pressing back once again. “uh uh,” he tuts, fully pulling away from you after he removes your panties from your mouth. “we still have a patrol to finish; your greedy ass can wait.”
𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇, i have a few more ideas for this concept, so be prepared. i'll probably remake this too once i have more time. ── love, angie ♡
clark "slow, deep breaths" kent who has to repeatedly remind you of a function you should otherwise have complete, unconscious control over. though when he's got his cock in you like this, that's not so much of a given.
it's as if your brain short circuits when he's inside you, wires detaching in your mind that made the task of breathing something difficult.
clark's got you caged in at the foot of the bed, arms, legs, all his limbs encompassing you like he didn't want to let you up. you're most malleable under him, body voluntarily limp as you allow him to contort you as he pleases.
your nails rake his back, streaks of pink following the trails of each erratic hand movement you make. he has no reaction to the marks you draw, nor can you see them being pinned under his weight, though you can only assume them to look like thick red chemtrails.
his cock repeats that same carefully precise drilling motion, that very same motion he's yet to curtail from. it's become almost relentless, the rhythm close to breaking you, rather than the other way around. it turns your body to mush and brain into a tizzy as he fucks you through another orgasm.
your thighs shudder around the lowers of his hips, an incessant twitching forming like you, yourself, hand no control over it. your stomach trembles with your climax, chest jittering as if to cope with the wild intakes of air you struggle to fully inhale.
your head tips back and you cry out a pathetically lewd string of, "fuck,"s.
though with you seemingly teetering into something almost soul-engulfing like you are, it doesn't make him stop. he proceeds, cock dragging out and pushing into you just like it was before you let go around his dick — before your cunt fluttered and convulsed around him with your climax a moment ago.
with your throat exposed like it is, he lowers, lips pressing under your chin as he kisses and nibbles at it. he smiles against your chin, act amused by your bodily response to him.
"I know," he coos, dimpled grin almost juxtaposing his tone. "deep breaths," he instructs, hand reaching to the side of your head. "slow, deep breaths, baby," he repeats, guiding you into something calm all while doing the complete, polar opposite with his cock.
kirishima offers to prove you wrong after you tell him that you think he’s “too innocent” …
content. pro-hero!kirishima, afab!reader, SIZE KINK, so much praise, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, characters are in their 20s, dacryphilia ?? idk these warnings make it sound very normal but ts gets kinky
your friend says a sexual joke in korean that makes you laugh, and when kiri asks you to translate it, you say no and claim that he’s “too innocent”, because that’s how you see him — puppy friend, protector. fuckable and hot, yeah, but sweet, and probably a virgin.
“you’re messing with me, yeah?” he teases.
“kirishima! y-you’re… I can’t… you’re too sweet, y’know… I can’t talk to you like that.”
he just quirks an eyebrow at you.
“innocent? you think that I’m innocent just because I’m so sweet to you, huh? I’m 24, angel.”
someone chirps at your friend and grabs her attention; she hops off of her barstool and leaves you to deal with the consequences of calling kirishima “innocent” to his face. your cheeks are bright pink, averting your gaze down to your half-finished mojito.
kiri just beams at you, leaning in and you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t know! you’re just…”
“mmhmm…” kiri hums, standing up and placing himself behind you, absolutely towering over you. he gently brushes your hair off of your shoulder so he can tuck his handsome face into your neck. he’s so close that you can feel his washboard abs against your back, his soft breath across your skin, causing you to straighten your posture and arch away.
“want me to prove you wrong?” he teases, pressing the softest little kiss along the side of your throat, dragging his warm tongue along your skin for just a split second.
you yelp in embarrassment but you don’t pull away — he’s too warm, he feels too good. you nod, intrigued by how he intends to change your mind.
“you think I can’t fuck you until you’re crying and stupid? you think that I don’t think about that? about how much smaller you are than me?”
jesus christ. his words make your mind go helplessly blurry. when the fuck did he get a mouth like that? the closeness, his voice, and just everything about him makes your pussy throb desperately, and you feel little beads of wetness soak through your panties. you don’t even know how to respond.
“gonna mouth off then keep quiet, huh?” he quickly kisses your neck again before backing off, worried that he might’ve gone too far, but you grab his arm.
“you gonna come home with me?” your voice is small, but he hears every word.
⋯
that was an hour ago and now he’s in your bed, and you’re not quite stupid yet, but you are crying — his sharp teeth leaving love bites all over your neck and chest; the obscene stretch of his thick fingers and how fucking good they feel deep in your little pussy. everything about him is just so big. he’s sucking on your tongue and giving messy, open-mouthed kisses that make you drool and leave your lips bright red.
“suckin’ me in like you’re trying to swallow me whole. I love it… fuck, I love it. such a pretty pussy, angel.” kiri praises you, his mouth still on yours. all you can do is nod and whine, spreading your thighs even wider while he finger-fucks you, your calves lazily crossed at the back of his neck.
he’s already eaten you out and made you cum twice but it wasn’t enough to fit him — he’s just too fucking big, but he’s so sweet and patient that he wants to open you up just a bit more for him.
“my perfect girl, doin’ so good for me. you’re almost there, baby, I’ll make it fit, okay? not gonna hurt you, mama.”
his words are sugar-sweet but his mouth is relentless, all fanged teeth and hot tongue.
you would let him hurt you, but you’re too fucked-out to even think about getting your point across. you don’t want to think or talk, you just want to cry and let your precious boy take care of you because he is so fucking good at it.
“eiji, I’m gonna c—” but he cuts you off.
“shhhh, just take it, you need it .. you need me.” and you believe him because, fuck, no one has even come close to making you feel like this.
you shiver, keening into his chest, cumming hard with a pathetic cry and gushing around his fingers, and all down his wrist. it’s getting to be too much, and you definitely know better than to tease him about being “innocent” ever again, but you still need more. you lick his throat just to taste him, he groans deep in his chest, feeling your soft tongue glide across his adam’s apple. his sweat is salty but sweet from the liquor.
“you feel so fucking good, eiji.” you whisper, looking at him with hearts in your sparkly doe eyes.
“good girl, baby, thank u.”
he sucks his fingers clean with reverence, moaning at your sweet taste that he can’t get enough of. he kisses you again, trying to distract you from the incoming stretch. his sensitive, blushy head bumps against your overstimulated clit, making you wrap your legs around his waist.
you look down and get a full view of his perfect, gorgeous body, how he’s so muscular and toned, shimmery pearls of sweat running down his neck and chest. he’s all over you and his size is comforting, but still a bit overwhelming.
he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, using a hand to softly tilt your face towards his, resting his forehead against yours.
your back arches off the bed and you claw at the sheets as soon as he pushes in even the slightest, your pretty face twisted into discomfort. he’s shushing you so sweetly in between kisses, slowly inching his way inside of your snug, velvety cunt, giving you shallow thrusts to gently carve your pussy into his shape as he goes deeper. he has to be at least eight inches, if not nine, and his thickness has your eyes crossing.
“atta girl,” he exhales, “biiiiig stretch, okay? just breathe, I’ve got you.”
“kirishima, it’s too big.” you whine, making his heart melt.
“I know, baby, I know, almost there.” he reassures you, kissing the corner of your pouty, kiss-bitten lips.
but once you’re accustomed to his massive dick? he doesn’t hold back. he folds your legs into your chest, your ankles behind his neck, and just absolutely puts all of his weight behind his thrusts. his muscular arms are holding you close, caging you in while his big, thick cock pistons in and out of you like he’s a machine, his strong hips rocking into yours.
you dig your nails into the back of his neck, one hand threaded in the hair at his nape, pulling him down into you, anything to get him closer. he groans into your mouth, kissing and tonguing so deep that he’s practically in your throat. it just makes your pussy gush even more for him.
your tight cunt is so wet and gooey and you can hear a filthy squish and squelch with every stroke, his heavy balls smacking against you, the bed thudding against the wall. it’s obscene, not to mention his sexy moans and desperate little breaths and whimpers.
all you can do is cry and hiccup and whine and beg because he feels so fucking good, and he is so deep. you’re officially fucked stupid for a few minutes until he asks you a question that you don’t even hear.
you speak without thinking: “eiji, I need you, please don’t fuck anyone else, not ever, I need you,”
“yeah, you’re sweet on me? you sure I’m not too innocent for ya, huh, baby?”
“nuh-uh, eiji, y’fuckin me so good, want you to cum inside, please don’t fucking pull out, want your fucking cum in my pussy.”
“fuck, okay, baby, okay, anything you want, I’ve got you.” he swallows hard, abandoning any good sense he might’ve had. “I’m gonna fill you up because you’re such a good girl for me.”
you cry into his shoulder, your heavenly cunt hugging around his cock so perfectly, taking everything that he has to give. your fourth orgasm is approaching like a violent storm. he feels you squeeze around him even harder, your warm walls fluttering and pulsing and he would last much longer if it were anyone else, but he’s incredibly down bad for you.
“just like that, just like that, angel, cum f’me,” he groans, and the torrent of your orgasm finally releases just before his own with one last, deep, deep thrust. he shoots a thick, potent load straight into your womb, filling you with more than you can take. his sticky, milky cum is dripping out around his length as he stays buried deep.
you’re both panting and whining as you come down, just lost in his touch and the feeling of him still inside of you. “yeah, you’re not so innocent, huh?” you mumble, and he places soft little kisses all over your neck and cheeks, laughing against your smooth, warm skin. he might be in love.
“I’m whatever you need me to be.” he beams at you and you take his pretty face in your hands, running your thumb over his cheekbone. you could look at him all day for the rest of your life and never tire of it.
okay, he proved his point. but you’re not even the slightest bit upset about it.
先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love
notes. I’m in love with him and his japanese voice actor oh my god. also this was supposed to be a short drabble about u teasing him for being innocent. um.
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mikage reo ,, nagi seishirō ,, itoshi sae ,, oliver aiku ,, michael kaiser
request. would you write bllk headcanons of their favorite way to fuck us completely dumb? it can have any characters just please add reo.
content. afab!reader, pussy eating, praise, edging, overstimming, mindbreaking, degrading, spitting, size kink, manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, breath play, choking, characters are in their 20s
玲王 ⸻ reo × teasing
don’t get me wrong, he still absolutely loves to give you the princess treatment, however .. the amount of teasing and edging he does is enough to drive you insane. he just loves loves loves to hear you beg, and you just look and sound so pretty while doing it.
he’s at his worst when he’s eating you out, completely addicted to the way you tremble under his touch when he doesn’t give you what you want, kissing your tummy, biting at your thighs, locking his big hands behind your knees to keep your legs spread for him. definitely has cum just from eating you out before.
reo has you in missionary, and he almost pulls all the way out ; slowly letting his pretty pink tip catch on your tight entrance before rubbing his head through your slick folds, just to watch how you beg and grasp for him.
“r-reo, p-please,” you sob, “m’always so fucking good for you, please just make me cum, I’m so fucking close, please!” glittering tears fall down your gorgeous face, your long lashes wet and your pretty eyes glistening and entirely focused on him.
“sorry, princess. can’t spoil you too much, m’always giving you exactly what you want. jus’want to hear you cry for me …” reo sighs, already relenting to his perfect girl, “fuck … I’m obsessed with you.”
誠士郎 ⸻ seishirō × overstim
is this a hot take bc he’s so lazy? sure, he loves quickies and morning head, but I just feel like once he’s into a session, it’ll be multiple rounds of overstim until you can hardly speak or think. just cute cries and mumbles of how much he’s stretching you open and how good it all feels. you’re his girl, after all, and he’ll hyperfixate on you the same way he will with soccer and video games. he just has so much more stamina than you. :c
“s-sei..” you swallow thickly, whining, “can’t, s’too much.”
nagi tilts his head, and he’s so adorable. he slows his thrusts and his thumb finds your clit again. you shiver, trying to close your thighs around his waist. “yeah, angel? you don’t wanna cum f’me again?”
“no, I do, it’s just—”
he scoffs. “eh? then stop complaining and use our safe word if you’re serious. it’s only been two hours.” he slides all the way back inside and you moan, arching up into his perfectly toned chest. “that’s it .. feels so good…” he sighs. you have a long night ahead .. and your pretty boy has so much more to give.
冴 ⸻ sae × mindbreak
sae is the perfect balance of worshiping you physically, but degrading you mentally. you’ve both established boundaries and of course he’ll never break them, but you’re with a man like sae because you like a mean fuck … :3
he’s soft and sweet some nights, usually if he misses you because he’s been away, but those are not the nights that he’s fucking you stupid. sae is also insanely possessive, which only adds to the mindbreaking. he will eventually soften up once he’s older, but in his twenties, you have to be okay with actively being objectified by him.
“you’re fucking mine, and you better not even think about fucking anyone else, ever … I fucking own you and your cunt.”
you nod stupidly, hardly able to keep your eyes open. he kisses you hard before squeezing your face between one of his big hands. he doesn’t even have to say anything, you just know to part your pretty lips and present your tongue for him. he spits into your mouth, purposely missing and getting half of it on your face. “good fucking girl.”
オリヴァ ⸻ oliver × manhandling
oliver’s specialties are manhandling, trying new positions, and being much bigger than you. it didn’t take him long to realize that his pretty little girlfriend has a size kink just like himself — how you’re always talking about and drooling over how he’s so big, so tall, so strong. how your sparkly eyes get so wide when he comes home from the gym, his muscles glistening and lined with prominent veins, and he’s hardly able to get in the shower with the way you’re clinging onto him like a bitch in heat.
he’s always manhandling you into positions that you’ve never even heard of, most of which show off his impressive strength. it’s a talent, honestly. sometimes it makes you want to check his browsing history to see what the fuck he’s been looking at when he’s got your face in the pillows with his foot on the back of your neck, pounding into you like his life depends on making you cum as hard as possible.
but oliver is sweet, and only as rough as you want him to be — hard, deep strokes while he rubs your clit carefully and skillfully, mean spanks followed by a soft touch to soothe the pain, pulling your hair and gently running his fingers through it afterwards.
“y’doing so good for me, angel. your perfect little cunt was made to take this big fat cock, yeah? just like that, mama.”
ミヒャエル ⸻ michael × choking
this might be a bit too obvious, but yes, this man loves breathplay, especially on himself. for him, giving that kind of control to a partner is just so fucking sexy, and he loves the connection and intimacy of mixing pain with pleasure. he’s also definitely into biting, scratching, and spanking if you’re okay with it. micha is very possessive …
michael has you bent over in bed, a massive, tattooed hand locked around your smooth, delicate throat, his deep voice low in your ear ; “mein leibling, god, you’re so pretty f’me … feels better like this, no? with my hand around your neck? you always cum so much harder … shhhh, that’s it .. just let me.”
he groans, thrusting so deep that you can feel his fat tip nudge your poor, sensitive cervix, at the same time that his full, heavy balls tense up and brush against your tiny little clit as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. you gasp and choke, a deep whine hardly escaping through his grip on your throat.
“shhhh, angel baby, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he whispers softly, and you believe him wholeheartedly, just giving in and letting him have absolute control over your body.
先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love
notes. idek how long this has been sitting in my drafts sorry :< but I’m really excited for bllk s3 !!
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summary: being on your period can be torture, with all the pain of cramps and mood swings and such. and clark is not one to sit idly by while you’re in pain… not when he can help.
word count: 4.9k
contains: fluff and smut. period kink, fingering (fem receiving), praise, slight condescension, clark is kind of clueless and so very desperate to make you feel better (selfish bastard.) also chubby reader if you squint, because i wrote this, who are we kidding? just clark being doting and then brutally hot and then doting again
*no use of y/n
a/n: first smut post, everyone say good job virgin!
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Clark’s knowledge surrounding menstruation was limited to the few girls in his life- Chloe, Lana, and Lois, really, and that was it. They got pissy, they wanted junk food, they cried on his shoulders if somebody looked at them wrong. It was like getting a week-long whiplash. And as much as it confused him, he also felt awful watching it. He knew what it felt like to have no control over your emotions. To be burdened with something painful. But granted the unusual positions his female friends often found themselves in, his perception of periods has been skewed. The women in his life were prone to meteor-freak accidents, which made their monthly torture quite… unique, now and again. There was one time when Chloe got infected by red kryptonite while she was in the luteal phase, and to this day, Clark has never been so afraid of a woman. Ever.
So when it came to you, he wanted to make sure he found the right way to take care of you. Even without kryptonite, you could be quite threatening. And currently, he was helpless.
It was only the second day, but the second was your personal worst. Having a heavy period meant you had heavy sickness, heavy headaches, heavy hunger- it completely threw you out of whack, curling you up in a ball and keeping you down until the throbbing faded. And down you were. Face down, in fact, in the pillows of your bed.
“Hello? It- It’s me, baby, it’s Clark,” a voice floated through the halls of your house, following the clicking of the front door opening. “Where are you?”
You grunted softly, “Bedroom.”
The farmboy shuffled in quietly, dwarfing your doorway with his big shoulders and a bag full of supplies. He gazed upon the sight before him with the most dramatic despair: you, buried beneath a grave of blankets, a heating pad strewn across the mattress in uselessness, a trash can beside your bed for the nauseous moments, two half-drank cans of ginger ale falling flat next to candy wrappers on the night table. The lights were low and the television was humming through reruns of defunct Food Network shows, which you only watched when you felt horrid or hopeless. Clark stopped in slowly, so as not to startle the beast, and he sat down at the edge of the bed.
“Hey, you.”
You moved to sit up, feeling a lightning strike of pain ripple through your right leg and causing a toe to twitch. You were used to the pain, it’s been a lifetime of it now, but it never got more comfortable.
Clark’s face twisted with concern and he nudged you back into the pillows. “No, stay–”
“It’s alright, Clark, lemme sit up,” you croaked, brushing his arms off and hoisting yourself upright.
He gave you a sympathetic smile and brushed a few haywire strands of hair from your face, fingers passing softly over the valley of your cheek. “How are you? Hurtin’ real bad?”
A small shrug punctuated your answer. “I’m working off six hundred milligrams of Motrin, so, it’s probably, like, forty percent numbed,” you chuckled. “I’m just more sick than anything. You know I get that weird nausea thing.”
“I know,” Clark frowned, and he placed the grocery bag between your legs. “Got you some stuff.”
You looked at him with warm eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of annoyance in them like you had expected, especially after the violence of your temper yesterday, the first day, when you were characteristically most angry. It was a simple call to check on his progress building a fence– that was all. But he snickered when you asked how he was faring, and that was a grave mistake. You’d snapped at him over the phone, something along the lines of ‘Well, sorry for caring so much about everything all the time!’ and possibly threw in after some combatance, ‘What do you know, superboy?’...
“Thanks for coming over,” you smiled sheepishly, “M’sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean anything…”
“It’s okay, grumpy. I know.”
You nudged the bag with a finger. “I just asked if you’d come watch a movie with your mean girlfriend. I didn’t need all this.”
“Just look inside, would you, bossy?”
With a fluttering roll of your eyes, you opened up the paper bag and poked around, unearthing the most ridiculous potpourri of period care. One of his flannels bunched up in a ball, a bag of Cheetos, a bottle of Tums, another can of ginger ale; he threw in a jelly face mask, which made you laugh, and there was a little stuffed lion, and not one but four different kinds of chocolate. You spread the items out on the comforter and giggled.
“You’re insane.”
“What? All this stuff helps! I asked Chloe!”
You reached your hand out to rub his bicep dotingly, shaking your head. “It’s really thoughtful, Clark, it is…” and then you collapsed into a soft fit of laughter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “A lion? What’s he for?”
Clark pouted, puppy eyes in overdrive. “Bravery.”
The fit seized you, and you cradled the fuzzy little thing in your palms, hiding your face in it to stifle some of the laughter. You felt slightly guilty because clearly Clark found this lion to be a true symbol of the tenacity of womanhood, but all it was, was precious and pointless. You adored it.
“Thank you,” you sputtered through the last of your hysterics, “All of it is… very nice, Clark, thank you.”
The farmboy looked quite disgruntled, but he nodded anyway, accepting your gratitude. He detangled the flannel and held it out for you, wrinkled and soft. “Here. I sprayed my cologne on it. Chloe said you’d like that.”
The fabric did smell like him- potently, almost too strong- but you would never complain. It was that piney kind of smell, with all the artificial cinnamon and firewood they pump into male scents these days, and underneath it, the life lived in dirt and hay clung to the fabric, which was the real trace of Clark. You shrugged it on gently, like it was glass, thankful for the little room it provided to still be boyfriend-big. Clark’s heart skipped an unscheduled beat at the sight of you, and his hand reached out to straighten the right side of the collar where it flipped.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something?”
“I’m okay. What I really want is for you to lay down and watch something with me.”
Clark smiled dorkily. “Oh. Right.”
His hesitance was sweet, it really was. There wasn’t a single move he would make that didn’t feel calculated– the way he crawled into the space beside you on the bed, perching himself gingerly against the headboard, trying to curve his body to the side of yours so you didn’t have to move a muscle. But the one thing you had very little of in the wake of your pain was patience. In his caution, he forgot affection. He didn’t even seem to want to touch you. His arm slithered around your shoulder, but his hand barely ghosted over your arm; he was stiff, he was quiet, and he barely spoke unless it was to make sure you liked what was playing or if you needed more medicine. You ignored it for an hour or two, but only so much time could pass with a guy as gorgeous as Clark Kent beside you before you went insane.
Your pelvic muscles were cramping, a brutal on and off tension that felt like the equivalent of someone’s hands squeezing them for sport. Soft winces escaped you as your hips adjusted over and over, trying to find an angle to lay at where the pressure was eased. Clark watched, afraid to help, because once Lois nearly bit his head off for trying to aid her. In a futile attempt to do something yourself, you pressed your own hand against the warm spot beneath your belly button, right over the throbbing. It quelled it for a moment, but you had to press kind of hard, and you couldn’t keep it up. Your eyes drifted to Clark, who looked a bit perturbed by the whole thing, and rolled your eyes.
“Clark, do you mind?”
“Huh? No, not at all,” he shook his head, lips pursed, as if you really were asking that he minded you putting your hands on your own body.
You wanted to put your head through a wall. “No, smartass, I mean do you mind pressing down for me? You’re stronger.”
Clark’s cheeks flooded with a rosy embarrassment, and it bled all the way to the tips of his ears and down his neck before he answered. “Um, sure. Sure. Just… right there?” He let his free hand come across your tummy to hover where your hand rested.
You grunted softly, laying a bit flatter on the mattress, nodding curtly. “Mhm. Just, like, press, and rub little circles if you can. The pressure helps.”
He was terrified to press too hard without knowing it. He had the power to throw grown men through concrete levels. Your uterine walls were certainly not as structurally sound as a parking garage. But he obliged anyway, and very carefully, he splayed his palm over your plush skin and applied a broad pressure, just enough strength to soothe the ache. You let out a soft sigh of relief and closed your eyes.
“That’s nice,” you murmured. “Thank you.”
Clark rubbed wide, thoughtful circles with the heel of his palm, allowing his gaze to travel over your expression of repose. He felt a curious twinge, and so he asked quietly, “Does it always hurt this bad?”
“Usually,” you grumbled. “The pain medicine kind of helps it from being shooting pain, but it gets draining after a while. Tires me out, makes me sick to my stomach, stuff like that. And it only hurts this bad on the second day.”
Clark watched his own hand, intent on getting the motions right, and something was churning inside him, too. He instantly felt guilty. Here you were, feeling sick and weak and in need of his comfort, and all he could see was how pretty you looked laying down, letting him touch you, wearing his clothes. What was he, a pervert?
“Does anything… else… help make it hurt less?” He asked, and an instantaneous look of regret passed over his face. Stupid, he reprimanded himself. Don’t be a creep.
You quirked an eyebrow, noting how his face changed. “Like what?”
Clark flushed hard, more than the nervousness he was prone to typically allotted, and he cleared his throat. “Oh. Um, nothing, really. Just– y’know, Chloe printed this article out for me, about… about what can help sometimes with really bad cramps…”
Something was up. His breath was hitching, and his eyes avoided yours. You didn’t need super hearing to tell his heart was pounding inside his chest. For a girl with a cycle like yours, you’d tried every pain relief method in the book. The fluster on his face left but one method.
You swallowed hard. “What did you find?”
Clark’s hand stilled between your hips, and a soft smile quirked on his lips. A shy one, and so very cute. “Um…”
You propped yourself up on your elbows and asked again. “C’mon, Clark.”
His eyes seemed to touch everything in the room except your own before he came out with it. “It said that… stimulation helped relieve the pain."
You knew it. You absolutely knew it- come on, that precious little look of humiliation on his pretty face, that same look he gets when he asks for one more kiss, if he can put his hands somewhere they probably shouldn’t go, if he could just perch you on the counter for just a second… and oh, he shouldn’t have brought it up, because now you want it, and bad. It was the one thing you hadn’t tried today.
“Stimulation? Where exactly did Chloe get this article, huh?”
“I– I don’t– it– she just told me–” he began to sputter, red as a tomato, and you cut him off with a merciful giggle.
“Clark, babe, I’m kidding! I’m teasing you. Take a breath.”
His eyes fluttered shut and a soft breath followed, and Clark mumbled awkwardly. “I just wanted to find something that would actually help. I asked her to give me anything she found.”
There was a sincerity in the words you didn’t expect. Sure, he could be a needy thing every now and again, and maybe his motives were not entirely selfless, but most of them were. You could feel it. Even when he wanted you, Clark had always put you first. It was what you needed, and then what he wanted. And he meant this– you needed pain relief, and maybe he could do something about it.
It was your turn to blush. “So, you want to… what, then?”
His hand was still covering the expanse of your womb, big and calloused at the high points, and he applied a little more pressure, easing the growing discomfort. His tone softened up. “I could touch you a little more. If you’re comfortable with it.”
Your attention flicked to his hand, and you suddenly felt a bit conscious. “There’s blood, though, Clark. That’s not gonna gross you out? We– we haven't, like… done anything when I had my period. It’s… messy.”
God bless that boy, because all he did was deal you a silencing smile. “Nothing I can’t clean up.”
Your stomach fluttered, and something warm churned there, the same way it always did when he shed that bumbling skin for something more intimate. His hand left the comfort of the cradle of your hips, and very cautiously, he traced it up your soft tummy. “Only if you want to. I don’t know if you ever tried it yourself, to see if it really worked.”
Your throat clenched. “I have. It– it kinda works. I’ve never had someone do it for me, though.”
Clark’s grin loosened, and he rolled onto his side to scooch down the bed a bit, until he was flat like you. He rested his head on the pillow and curled his arm around your waist, and his lips found a soft spot on your shoulder to land. “It might work better if I try it.”
“Maybe,” was all you could manage.
“Is that a yes?” he nudged, and you knew you were screwed.
“Yeah.”
You didn’t expect the night to go this way. You’d only called Clark here out of a need for his warmth, and to apologize, so maybe you could find a little relief in having your forgiving boyfriend beside you while you fought with frustration and sickness. But his hand was sure, even when his disposition wasn’t at first, as it slipped beneath the hem of your pajama pants. He felt the soft, cushioned outline of the pad pressing against your panties, and he paused thoughtfully. Then, he pulled his hand back out and crawled off the bed.
You almost whined at the loss, wondering why in the world he would stop when he hadn’t even started, but you held onto the complaint when he ducked into your bathroom and returned with a towel. He knelt down before you, knees sinking into the covers, and he looked down with a fond expression.
“Lift your hips for just a second, okay?”
You listened, suspending yourself as he laid the towel over the bedsheets, and he settled you onto it. The heat beneath your skin sizzled as his fingers hooked the waistband of your bottoms and slid them down your thighs, fingers grazing the soft pudge in admiration as they went. He looked more in love with every inch he bared, and soon enough the panties came off too, with painstaking care. He made sure to pull the pad clean off and fold it up, dropping it into the trash can you kept beside the bed. Only then did he pause, when you were laying there with a look of anticipation, and he smiled down at you.
“If it hurts, or you get uncomfortable, you say the word and I’ll stop, okay?”
God, it was so unfair when he did that. It made you want to book a wedding cruise every time.
“Okay.”
Clark anchored his hands beside your head, and for a fleeting moment, he pressed his lips to yours, promising to be careful with his own little language. Then, he traveled back down to your hips, and he sat before them, one leg off the edge of the bed and the other bent and tucked, as if this were a normal conversation he could lounge through. Two big farm hands eased your thighs apart, and he exposed what you were keeping bundled up under all those clothes. What would’ve been pink any other week was now a glossy red, but the valleys looked the same, and you could’ve sworn he licked his lips in starvation.
“Still pretty,” he hummed, “even if you don't feel like it right now.”
Your lungs shuddered as he pressed his palm over your womb, feeling the uncharacteristic heat radiating from it, drinking in the softness of your skin. He let his hand travel down the curve of your mound until the tips of his fingers were close enough to drag through the crimson slick, and he let out a little huff of breath, lips curling into a grin.
You knew it would start the second your throat betrayed you with some kind of soft sound, because it always did. There was this part of Clark that took a little pleasure in keeping you needy. Maybe it stemmed from his desire to always have you relying upon him, but it didn’t really matter in the end. In the mix of his urge to comfort you, an adoring condescension rose from somewhere deep inside him. It was quiet now, low in his throat, as he passed the tips of his fingers through your folds. And it was all over his face, too- eyes shifting from sky to ocean, lashes drooping, canines bared.
“Awh… does it hurt, baby?”
You wanted to ream him out for turning you on to the point of anger, but the desperation in your voice translated it to, “Mhm.”
“And you want me to make it better, don’t you?”
“Mhm…”
Clark’s chest hammered with hunger, and selfishly, he let his pointer finger flick over the bundle of nerves cresting your pussy, light as a feather. The sensitivity from your cramps made it buzz like an electric shock, and your teeth bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. He clicked his tongue as your sudden twitch. “My poor girl.”
His finger found a home there, nothing fancy, just bare bones– he pressed against your clit, applying pressure just like he did a few inches up. It sent a pulse through your hips and down to your toes, and the lack of friction was so aggravating you groaned. “Please don’t play around so much,”
“I’m being gentle,” he quipped, and there was less care than there was teasing in the excuse.
“If you’re trying to make it hurt less, you’re failing.”
“Oh? That right? Well, you know I don’t like seeing you in pain, baby…”
And he made you regret ever saying it. His finger let up before his thumb took its place, and the circles he began were so slow it had your stomach twisting in knots. Your fingers found the edges of the towel under your body and clung to the worn fibers, needing something to grab, to ground you, and you whined quietly. Your insides still ached with pain.
“S’not enough, Clark, please?”
Clark leaned down a bit, letting you get a closer look at how much he loved seeing you this way, and he wordlessly sped his thumb’s pace. “Better?”
You responded with a slight twitch of your hips, and it drew a chuckle from him. His free fingers dragged through the blood again, and for a moment he was surprised how much of it there was. You felt warmer than normal, smoother than normal, and the color was so cute as it stained your skin… and his face felt warm as he stared at it, watching it smear, seeing it shine in the low light of your ceiling fan…
“Gosh,” Clark croaked, because he discovered something about himself he didn’t know until this very second. And in the thrall of his enlightenment, he pushed his middle finger between your folds tentatively, right to the first knuckle.
Your hips lifted off the bed for a second, the throbbing of your walls unaccustomed to the sudden intrusion. It hurt for a split second because the muscles were confused– when they’d been clutching around nothing for hours on end, this required a reassessment, didn’t it? But when the first knuckle transitioned to the second, and then back to the first, you felt the familiarity of him, and your body melted into the mattress.
“There she is,” he cooed, “Good girl.”
A weak moan tumbled from your lips as he carefully pumped his finger in and out, in and out, watching how it made you squirm, thirsting for the way it came out sheathed in red each time.
“Not hurtin’ you, am I, pretty?”
“No,” you panted, “Helps… good.”
A deep rumble of laughter, half-adoring and half-patronizing, rattled his ribs. “I’ve done a lot worse than this to you, and you could talk just fine then.”
You glared at his prod at your mental state, and just to torture him, you drew in a sharp breath and twisted your face up.
Clark’s hand immediately stilled and he dropped the tone. “Oh gosh, baby, did I hurt you?”
You opened your eyes again at the panic in his voice, and a cheshire grin overtook your face. “Kidding.”
The pale skin of his cheeks regained their color, and he wheezed. “That wasn’t funny! I could really hurt you!”
“Sorry,” you giggled, “You are kind of being a little shit, though.”
Clark’s smile was real this time. Not cruel, just sweet, as he crawled over you again and nudged your nose with his. “Not my fault you get so needy.”
“Oh, it absolutely is,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah?” he lilted, and without warning, he plunged his finger right back inside of you, with a second accompaniment following shortly after.
Your hands cupped his cheeks in the heat of the ambush, and you whimpered in betrayal. “I… oh,”
“Maybe it is my fault,” he crooned, turning his mouth to your palm to press kisses over the plains of it. “But you’re a little greedy by default.”
His digits curled charitably, studying the pulsating of your muscles as they expanded and contracted in pain. It caused you to clench harder around him than usual, and a groan escaped him, his eyes devouring your expression of pleasure. “Okay?”
Your head bobbed against the pillows, eyes closing, hips pushing up to meet his palm. “Mm.”
He let up on the torture for now, smiling. “Atta girl. Take what you want, I got ‘ya.”
His thumb resumed its duties while his others coaxed shakes and shivers from your body, brushing up against the warm, spongy spot deep inside that your fingers could never reach without him. He reveled in every soft cry you let out, and waves of desire crashed over his head as he felt the soft squelching of blood between his knuckles. You rocked your hips slowly into the motions, feeling how the residual sting was mingling with a lighter ache, and every clench was chasing a high rather than shedding skin. Your fingertips scratched gently at the backs of his ears, refusing to let him sit up, needing to keep him close to you. You whined fiercely.
“You’re so pretty when you get like this,” Clark praised, “Wish you could see yourself. Y’get the cutest look on your face…”
“Clark,” you mewled, hips bucking.
“What is it, pretty? Need more?”
You tugged at his hair, nodding eagerly, knees struggling not to writhe.
Clark took pity on you and sped up the thrusts of his fingers, and he broke free of your weak little tugs on his head to sit up; he wrapped his free hand under your hip and hiked you over his thighs, molding the curve of your spine to the angle, and with you draped like this, he was able to get his hands just the slightest bit deeper inside your walls, deep enough that your thighs clamped around his hand and you were coming up off the bed to grab at him, eyes wide and dazed.
“F-fuck, Clark,”
“S’okay, baby, I got it, you just take it for me, huh?”
He didn’t dare pry you open. It was too adorable to watch you struggle, legs clenched around his wrist, grabbing at his arm and trying to keep yourself on Earth. His fingertips battered your soft spot, getting to know it real well, and he admired the way you ground into the curve of his palm like it was instinct. Your breathing hitched over and over, moans turning into whines turning into helpless gasps for air, and he pressed his unoccupied hand to your tummy to keep you down.
“Easy, baby, almost there,” he tutted, “You just need a little more, right? Just a little faster?”
“Please!” You begged, hips rutting, back arching over his lap.
“I know, I know, baby… Jeez, you have no idea how pretty you are.”
Clar refused to let up until you fell limp and exhausted from pleasure snuffing out any pain. He crooked into your heat like a man on a mission, his thumb a master of torture, and by the way you squeezed he knew you were a ticking time bomb. So he went faster, and faster, smiling bigger and bigger, watching how your arm draped over your face, how you writhed like a snake, how you panted for air like a dog, and when your whole body stiffened and twitched before collapsing into a quake of shaky aftershocks, he still didn’t stop. He only slowed, dragging his fingertips gently over your walls, committing the spasms to memory, making sure you were worked through until you couldn’t take it anymore. And he knew when that moment came, because your legs were shaking and you were pushing at his wrist like you wanted to run away from him.
Clark unearthed himself from between your thighs and he lifted you up into his lap, slumping you against this chest and brushing hair from your eyes with the clean hand. Soft kisses peppered your temples and nose as the soft side you knew best took the helm. “That’s it, baby, you’re okay. You did good. You feel good?”
Talking felt pointless, but you tried anyway. “Yeah… hm… mhm…”
Clark raised his dominant palm and ogled the glistening colors under his nailbeds, in the cracks of the skin, and he beamed like it was Christmas morning. He kissed your cheek and dropped it in your lap, but not before flipping the towel over your thighs, so he didn’t get it on your skin.
“See you, baby?”
You could’ve collapsed into another fit there and then. It was the small things like that- countless possessive little phrases that made you want to swallow him whole. You nodded and grabbed the edge of the towel, and very gently you began to wipe the scarlet excess from his rough hands. You were seconds away from taking the fingers into your mouth, but he looked dazed enough at the innocent attention you gave. You could file that move away for next time.
“How does it feel now? Still cramping?” He inquired.
“Mm-mm,” you shook your head. “Just a little ache. It helped.”
The look of reward was more precious than you ever imagined. Maybe he enjoyed the journey, but he started the trek for you. Clark was nothing if not born to keep you happy. “Good.”
You let him lay you back down like one wrong move would shatter you, and you watched patiently while Clark got up to rinse his hands in your bathroom sink. He moved gingerly, grabbing clean underwear from your dresser, searching the sink cabinet for a fresh pad, wetting a washcloth. And when he came back to the bed, he knelt before you and wiped your skin, making sure all was in order. Then, with the care he extolled when he took them off, he shimmed fresh panties with a sterile pad up your thighs, covering you back up again.
“There. All clean.”
You rolled onto your side and gestured for him to slot against you, and he was there in a second, broad chest pressed to your back and weighty arm melting over your waist. A soft exhaustion muffled your head, and you mumbled quietly. “Thank you.”
“Thank Chloe,” he teased, planting a warm peck on your shoulder. “You’re welcome, baby.”
The aching between your hips was a dull roar now, and so you curled up into his embrace, feeling how his chest rose and fell behind you, and took advantage of the grace period. Your eyes fell shut with ease.
Clark just kissed your shoulder, once, twice, three times, and then let his own head fall against the pillow. “Wake me up when it hurts again, ‘kay?”
SUPER SUIT ━━╋━
mdni .ᐟ thigh riding, dry humping, clothed sex, praise, clark talks you through it...
“such a pretty girl…”
clarks holding down your hips tight as he lounges back in your bed tired from his long day, he's got you trapped on his thigh and he knows how needy you are. you can't help it. he's just so busy all the time from the daily planet to saving the world and helping stuck kitties from trees. it's a little unfair you think, makes you a little greedy, a little possessive.
and fuck if that doesn't turn clark on.
that look in your eye while you chew your lip raw, rolling your hips across the thick, rugged fabric of his super suit. he could feel your cunt already soaking through your panties with every throb of need. it drove him crazy, but he kept himself grounded, and you, by keeping his big hands around your waist and pressing you down onto the pure muscle of his thigh with little effort. you let out quiet whimpers while he sat back watching you crumble before him. taking it all in, the thin of your sleep shirt with the peaks of your tits poking through, the way your eyes rolled back slightly as you got yourself off.
“mhm… that's it— just take what you need angel.”
even while you were literally grinding your soaked pussy over him, he was still a gentleman, it drove you insane.
your hips twitch at the way he's watching you, so patiently with that little smirk. clark's quick to notice the fault in your pace, making his smirk grow.
“need help baby?”
you whine, clasping your hands over his chest, your fingers tracing the red and yellow embellishment of his suit, pouting a little.
“but you said you were tired…”, you whisper a little embarrassed now.
“yeah not for you—”, he lets out a laugh, softly flicking your forehead.
“clark—”, a giggle escapes your lips as you rub your head softly.
“nah uh— no whining, I always have energy for you sweetness—”
clark smiles, pulling you closer, pressing kisses across your face and shifting his thigh juuusttt right, enough for your clit to get enough friction to have you slowly seeing stars.
he's half hard now.
you only know because he's just that big, his cock already bulging through his suit.
now his hands are dragging your dripping pussy across his thigh with ease, a little faster now but he's being so patient with you, cooing softly and rubbing soft circles into your hip bones. you're practically limp now, just focused on the soft gooey feeling between your legs and the knot in your stomach that was so, so close to breaking.
“yeah— just lemme do all the work—”
“so pretty baby—”
“gonna cum soon angel?”
his voice is low and firm as he whispers into your hair, one hand leaves your hip to rub over the small of your back and run over the supple skin of your ass, squeezing softly.
“just a little more i can feel it…”
he's listening closely to your whines, whimpers and fluttery heart beat. he doesn't have to ask if youre gonna cum he just knows. he knows every tick of your body so well, it's like he's studied you or some shit.
“it's okay, cum over my thigh, go ahead—”
“make a mess sweetheart, it's okay.”
you moan into him, nails digging into the shoulders of his suit, holding him closer as the band in your stomach snaps, creaming in your little panties and letting it drip down onto his suit. he holds you tight in his warm, comforting embrace as you gasp and cry out, arching through your high.
clark just smiles and holds you close, blanketing your small frame, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your skin.
“did so good f'me— so good—”
once you calm down and ran through all your jolts and jitters he holds your face between his palm and rubs gently at your tear soaked cheeks, pressing soft kisses over your tired out expression with a quiet laugh.
the air in your shared room is still warm and thick as you both come down. jason collapses to your side, his sweat slicked chest rising and falling with each heavy breath and you can almost feel yours becoming short again.
there's a pretty smile spread on his lips and a soft dusting of rouge on the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose when he turns to look at you, dark curls framing his his face. "hi you"
a smile, toothy and sweet, mirroring his own breaks out on your lips, "hi jason" he looks to be glowing, soft around the edges and your heart can't help but fill with fondness.
gentle heat radiates from your flushed skin while exhaustion pulls at your eyelids making them feel too heavy to hold open. he turns to lay on his side, one hand tucked under his head as the other traces along your arm in a feather light touch. it's quite for some time. both of you content in laying together in comfortable silence when a question forms in the back of your mind and travels down to sit on the edge of your tongue, itching to be asked —
"what's your favourite part of my body?"
jason raises an eyebrow, an expression between a deadpan and genuine confusion on his face (or perhaps it was concern that he failed to make you feel just how dear to him all of you was just a few comments earlier.) kissed bitten lips part to answer your question with an answer but you quickly cut him off with a short playful roll of your eyes.
"i know you like my body jason. clearly" taking a moment to gesture to the blooming hickies and faint bite marks that adorn you, "that wasn't the question"
it takes a second for jason to respond, the question (and reassurance of your satisfaction) settling. jason was quick and witty and often sharp tongued with others, but with you he always took a moment. as if to savour each word you offer him, and to allow himself a chance at stringing together an adequate response.
shifting his body, jason positions himself on the arm that had been tucked beneath his head leaning his weight on it while the other takes your left hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before sliding his fingers along it to interlock with yours. "i like your hands." he says it simply, eyes locked on onto your heavy lidded ones and almost immediately you feel much more awake.
he descends, pressing another kiss that lingers a little longer to your hips and making his way up wards. "i like your hips. the soft curve of your tummy." warm kisses climb higher up your body, and he presses a kiss below your chest where the soft flesh meets your ribs. "i like you here," you can feel a smile forming, mischievous. his tongue peeks out, licking a short stripe before continuing, "especially after a long day before you get to shower and you smell fucking delici-"
your free hand threads through soft curls in attempt to tug him away. "jason stop. ew" there is no urgency in your voice. he take your other wrist in the same hand, pressing a kiss to your pulse point, "i like your wrists too"
butterflies erupt in your stomach, your drowsiness long forgotten. "okay! thank you jason that's- thats enough" you hope your face doesn't look as hot as it feels.
"mm, i don't think so. i'm not close to being done with you sweetheart. just like that — lay back for me, let me show you the rest of my favourite parts of you "
“fuck, honey.” clark whispers, breathing heavily into your neck. his body glistening with sweat. he digs his nose into the crook of your neck. taking you all in, taking in your scent, you always smelled so nice. he loved it. “i’ve missed ya.”
it’s late into the night, clark finally made his way home to you after a long day of fighting off all types of monsters. as soon as he stepped into your shared bedroom and saw you lazily lying in bed with only a tank top and panties he practically jumped out of his clothes and climbed into bed.
“missed you so much.” he shifts his hips against yours, grinding into you as his lips latching onto your neck. wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands slowly tangle in his dark curls. “i’ve missed you too, clark.”
letting out a small sigh, feeling content but tired. your legs spreading wider as he grinds into you. you love when clark got like this. coming home clingy.
lifting his head, he lips press softly against yours, his hand cradling your face so softly as if you’re made of glass. his glasses slip off his nose, bumping into you. smiling into the kiss, clark pulls away a bit. “sorry about that, sweetheart.”
clark quickly slides his glasses off and places them next to the bedside table. he leans in, kissing the spot where his glasses bumped your face. your heart swelled. you had the sweetest boyfriend ever. griping his chin, you lean up slightly to press your lips to his again. harshly breathing and with shaky hands, clark pulls up your tank top, he physically needs to feel more of your skin.
pulling away from you, he looks down, his face flushed and red. “can i?” his voice trails, asking to take off your shirt. his voice is raspy and low. you eagerly nod as you lift your arms up, your body feeling hot. smiling clark lifts your shirt up.
he grinds his hips against you again, like he physically couldn’t help himself again, leaning down, his tongue swirls around the bud of your breast. gasping, you sink into your bed, your body relaxing. letting clark do whatever he needs to. he pulls away from you. looking down at you with blue eyes. “you’re so pretty.” he whispers as he leans back down. his lips latch back onto the crook of your neck. his hips thrusting harshly as he brings one hand at your hip to make sure you stay in place as the other grips onto your headboard. “you feel so good, sweetheart.”
“could stay like this for hours with you.” he grunts, his jaw popping. his hips rutting into you with no mercy. breathing heavily his grip on the headboard hardens causing it to crack.
“clark, you’re going to break the headboard again.” you breathlessly warn your boyfriend, softly pulling on his curls for his attention. “i’ll buy another one,” he grumbles into his neck, still rolling his hips, still gripping onto the headboard with an iron grip. “just let me-“
he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the headboard breaks with a clean crack causing your body to jolt. with wide eyes you look up to your now broken headboard before twisting your head to glare at a guilty looking clark. “sorry,” he murmurs, his face flushed red. he give you a small smile as his hand scratches the back of his neck. “i’ll pay for it, honest.” you sigh, shaking your head. you could never stay mad at clark, he was too cute. and you know he’ll keep his word.
“you better.” you mumble, leaning up, you wrap your arms around clark. pulling your overly strong boyfriend into a passionate kiss.
a/n: i hit 600 followers?? thank you guys so much!! ♡
“are you seriously with him, again?!” is the first thing you hear when you pick up your boyfriend, logan’s call. you can feel the irritation starting to swirl in your chest and the headache starting to form in your head. he always caused little fights when you were with jason.
you never ever got a break from his whiny complaints. ever. “yes, i’m with jay again. i told you—“
“i told you i don’t want you around that guy anymore!” logan cuts you off, he always did that. he never lets you explain or get a word in. and ‘that guy’ was your best friend, jason. you and jason have a long past together. you grew up together. jason was there for you through thick and thin.
jason was never not going to be a part of your life. your boyfriend hated that; he loathed jason.
your relationship with logan wasn’t always this bad. he started off sweet. he was attentive, caring, and charming, but once he realized how close you and jason were, his sweet, caring nature turned into jealousy and passiveness. logan started trying to control your life a few months after. it was exhausting.
“i’m just going over to his place with some friends. it’s not a big deal.“ you try to explain the situation again, but it wasn’t anything for him to worry about. you were just going to be with your friends. “i won’t even stay out late if that makes you happy?”
“be back by nine.” before you can even argue that this was your life and he’s not your boss, logan hangs up the phone.
‘what an asshole,’ you think with a soft sigh as you look down at your phone.
“what the fuck is his problem?” jason grunts, sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, looking through his phone before he starts the car.
lifting your head up, you’re met with jason’s grumpy scowl. you can’t help but smile a bit. “he doesn’t want me going over to your place.”
“why not?”
“you know why.” you grumble, your small smile gone as your phone vibrates. he’s spam texting you now… great!
“i probably shouldn’t go.” you murmur, feeling your phone continue to vibrate in your hand as you continue to stare at jason.
“what? no,” he gently takes your phone, setting it on silent. “don’t ditch me for your shitty boyfriend.” he smiles, feeling a bit too cocky. “besides, i know you like hanging out with me more.”
“in your dreams, jay.” you laugh, hitting his arm playfully. taking your phone back from jason, you set it in your back jean pocket. logan could wait.
besides, you were just with jason. he had nothing to worry about.
“yeah, in my dreams.” jason sighs softly as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. his green eyes stare into yours. you couldn’t help but lean into him and his touch.
“erm,” jason clears his throat, pulling away. he focuses back on starting his car. “so, you coming with me?”
“yeah.”
jason’s apartment buzzed with noise from your shared friend group, a group of people that always seem to have a great time and make you happy to be around. you wish you could enjoy and live in the moment, but with logan breathing down your neck about not being home on time and constantly texting you? it dampens your mood.
“hey, what’s wrong?” jason asks quietly, his breath tickling your ear. “what’s got you so quiet?” he quickly follows up with the question, noticing you’re not having the greatest time.
jason always pays attention. he hated how your boyfriend seemed to suck the life out of you. he hated logan, if you’d allowed him to beat the shit out of the guy, he’d definitely take the chance.
his green eyes watch as you shrug your shoulders and wave your phone. just as he suspected, your crap of a boyfriend. with a sigh, jason softly snatches the phone. “come on, let’s go somewhere quieter.”
you follow jason to his bedroom and flop onto his bed. you watch as he tosses your phone onto his dresser. he stands against the dresser, his green eyes trained on you. “i don’t know why you’re still with that guy.”
“i don’t know either.” you admit, rubbing your face in frustration.
“you deserve someone better.”
“yeah, like who?”
“i don’t know,” jason pushes off his dresser, taking a seat next to you on his bed. “someone who actually knows how incredibly stunning you are, and how smart you can be. someone who doesn’t put you down and then keeps pushing.”
“you think i’m stunning and smart?” you look up into his eyes, your stomach flipping over.
“of course i do, i’ve always thought that way about you.” jason mutters, his body leaning closer to yours, as if you’re physically pulling him to you.
“really?”
he nods, his hands cupping around your face. “can i prove it to you?”
you softly nod your head, leaning in closer to him. jason presses his lips onto yours, his hands grabbing onto your hips and pulling you into his lap. he wants more of you. he can’t help but be greedy for your touch and attention.
your bod melts into his touch. it wasn’t weird or awkward, it felt normal, comfortable— you always felt comfortable with jason.
feeling slightly bolder, you move your hips directly onto jason’s thigh. feeling a shiver go down your back, you move your hips a little faster.
“just like that, baby.” jason murmurs against your lips, his hands helping you guide your movements. “does it feel good, babe?”
“i bet it does.” he continues to move yourself for you. then he stops his movements, his next words clear.
“lay on the bed.”
you lay yourself down on his bed as you watch him stand up and walk over to the edge of the bed. hie eyes look down at you like he was hungry.
“spread your legs for me, pretty girl.” he commanded gently, lowering himself to his knees in front of you.
“jay, you don’t have to—“
“don’t have to?”
“i mean, i know guys don’t really like to do this.”
jason blinks at you, he’s looking at you as if you said the most idiotic thing to him, which you might have. “is that what that idiot told you, baby?”
you nod as you watch jason’s strong hands spread your legs further apart as he leans closer between your legs.
“go figure, he’s a fuckin’ loser.” jason grumbles. his fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, pulling them down gently.
his thumb makes contact with your clit, his thumb moving teasingly slow, he wants to make this good for you.
“you ever this wet for him?” jason taunts, his finger spreading your wetness before prodding his thick finger into you. and then another. your body burns, you’ve never felt this way before. you couldn’t think straight. “i’m talking to you, baby.”
jason removes his fingers from your sweet cunt and offers them to your mouth. opening your mouth, you suck on his fingers. “good girl, you listen so well.”
his praise warms your chest, it’s refreshing hearing nice things compared to the nasty comments you constantly hear from logan. it was nice.
removing his fingers from your mouth, you watch as jason’s hands move each of your thighs onto his broad shoulders.
“i need you to know, this is entirely for my pleasure.”
without warning, he leans down, stuffing his head between your thighs. nipping, sucking and, licking so hard your eyes roll back.
feeling amazing, you push your hips, trying to chase after jason’s tongue. you needed more; it felt too good. so good you feel you could explode. you physically needed more of jason.
jason nips at you, warning you to stay still, his hands clamp down on your hips, keeping you where he wants you.
turning you into a whimpering mess, jason continues to thrust his tongue into you, rolling his hips into the edge of his bed.
“jay—“ you cry out, your core tightening and vision blurs as you come onto jason’s tongue. your fingers dig into jason’s sheets, feeling the need to hold onto something.
“fuck.” jason groans as he stands. through blurry vision, your eyes focus on the wet spot of jason’s jeans. you don’t say a word as he wipes his jaw with his hand. looking up at jason, you still see his ambition. he’s gotten a taste, and now he wants more.
Clark Kent who's bossy when eating you out and tucks a fat thumb into your mouth and pins your tongue down while you muffle whines of protest out nd he's got three fingers and his mouth on you while staring at you till you quit trying to mouth off and get out of his iron grip 😵💫...
munch!jason todd who spends every day, sometimes multiple times a day, positioned right between your legs. he truly believes that's where he belongs.
munch!jason todd who loves coming home after patrol and finding you curled up on the couch in nothing but panties and one of his oversized t-shirts.
he'll drop to his knees right in front of where you're sitting, taking hold of your calves to pull you closer to him, big hands already pulling at the waistband of your underwear.
munch!jason todd who once he gets you bare and sees your folds glistening with arousal, dives right in. licking and sucking at your puffy, swollen clit.
munch!jason todd who nearly creams his boxers when he hears your mewls and whines from him making out with your cunt.
munch!jason todd who can't shut the fuck up when he's eating you out.
"fuuuck baby-" he moans into your heat, "pretty pussy's s'wet for me..." he would ramble on and on about how much he loves this, if you didn't tug at his hair and shush him.
munch!jason todd who sticks two fingers in, scissoring you open while his mouth works tirelessly pleasing you.
"that feel good, huh?" he grins with a sort of pride, looking up at your fucked-out expression, "so fuckin' beautiful like this..." he's obsessed with the knowing that only he can make you feel this good.
munch!jason todd who ruts his hips against the couch the whole time, trying not to be selfish, but it's so hard, literally, when you're making all those pretty noises just for him.
munch!jason todd who can tell you're close before you even know it. when he feels your gummy walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers, and your breath get shallow, he knows all you need is a little encouragement.
"there you go, baby, you gonna cum for me?" he tilts his head, pulling his lips away you to speak, making you whine. he huffs a laugh and goes back down to suck at your clit harder than before, making you cry out.
"mhm... fuck- cum for me, sweet girl" he smiles into your cunt, relishing in the way you tighten impossibly around his fingers when you finally let go and cum with his name on your tongue.
munch!jason todd who licks you clean like your release is liquid gold, closing his eyes and focusing purely on how good you taste.
munch!jason todd who presses a soft kiss right on your sensitive bud when he's done cleaning you up, then gazing up at you with that whipped, lovesick look in his eyes.
munch!jason todd who has a very obvious wet patch on the front of his pants when he stands up. he flops down next to you on the couch and wraps his big arms around you, kissing the top of your head and holding you as you recover form your orgasm.
munch!jason todd who leans his head down to whisper sweetly to you, "you're jus' too good, baby"
I need u to do Nagi smut 😭😭😭 ily your writing sm, you're so talented!
𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 !
it was painfully obvious that your boyfriend, nagi was lazy. not because he wasn’t capable of doing things, but because he always chose the easiest route whenever he could. if there was a chance for him to stay laying down a little longer, have you bring him something, or avoid moving around too much, he would take it without a second thought.
and of course, his laziness showed the most in bed. he’d wake up still half-asleep, eyes barely open as he buried himself deeper into the blankets, already complaining about how getting up sounded like too much work.
so that’d explain the amount of times you’d have sleepy sex with him.
his hand slipped under your shirt, warm and lazy as his fingers traced idle patterns on your bare skin. he pulled you flush against his chest, his morning erection pressing against your thigh. "don't wanna get up.." he breathed against your neck, voice thick with sleep, hips making the tiniest rocking motion. "but you're here.."
his hand slid lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. he tugged gently, trying to pull them down without fully waking up. his other hand moved to your thigh, lifting it over his hip so he could position himself better between your legs. "just a quick one.."
he entered you slowly, still mostly asleep, letting out a sleepy moan as your warmth enveloped him. his movements were gentle and lazy, hips rolling in slow circles rather than thrusting. he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in as he moved inside you, making you whimper.
his hands roamed your body lazily, squeezing your breasts gently, playing with your nipples as he continued his slow, sleepy pace. he spread your legs wider with his knees, allowing him to sink deeper inside you without putting in much effort. "mmph... feels good.."
so he took his time, enjoying the slow build of pleasure as he made love to you in his half-asleep state. his pace never hurried, never intense, just slow and steady. he was content to stay buried inside you, letting his body do the work with minimal conscious effort.
his tongue traced lazy wet circles on your shoulder, teeth catching gently on your skin. his hips rocked forward, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. he didn't even seem fully awake yet, just following the pull of pleasure. "so warm.." he murmured against your collarbone, one hand slipping down to rub your clit in slow, deliberate circles.
a soft moan escapes you, and he hums appreciatively against your skin. his thumb finds the rhythm, rubbing your clit faster as your walls tighten around him. he matches your pace, hips rolling deeper, hitting that spot over and over with minimal effort. "there it is.." he murmurs, feeling you clench around him.
his fingers press harder, moving faster as he feels you on the edge. he kisses your neck, biting down gently as he thrusts forward, hitting that spot perfectly and sending you over the edge. he follows soon after, spilling inside you with a soft groan, still half asleep. "mmm... good girl.."
within seconds, you can tell he's already drifting off. his grip loosens on your thigh, his head dropping heavily onto your shoulder. his cock stays softening inside you as soft snores replace his lazy breaths.
Spicy Sweetheart @sassy-n-sweet - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
