Anyone who’s under 16 (all SFW fics 16+) it makes me (the author) uncomfy :) | Anyone under 18 on NSFW works, again its weird | TERFs | tag piss babies (either do your part or shut the fuck up), ANY STAN ACCOUNTS (ESP DRACO MALFOY AND SEBASTIAN STAN) | PEOPLE WHO LIKE BUT DON’T REBLOG| People who are pro life (for everyone not just themselves)
Pairing: DILF!Neighbor!Steve x Reader
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: divorce, cheating confrontation, age gap, SMUT (oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, cowgirl, breeding kink if you squint)
Summary: After Peggy found out Steve cheated, things took an unexpected turn.
+fran: this is kinda what I had unfinished after the last scene of neighborhood watch... its porn with some plot. hope you like it <3
The loud, thunderous confrontation Steve expected when he got home from his run and saw your panties on his kitchen counter in front of his wife never… happened.
Really.
"Peg…" He started, not knowing how to continue the sentence, really. He knew how pathetic he'd sound. How much of a poor excuse for a man he'd look like he'd been.
She exhaled softly through her nose, not even looking surprised. “Don’t,” she says, not sharp—just tired. “Please don’t insult both of us by lying.”
He swallowed, jaw tightening. “I wasn’t going to—”
“You were,” she cut in gently, almost like she understood where he was coming from, finally looking at him fully. “You would’ve said it’s not what it looks like. Or that they’re not yours. Or that there’s some explanation that magically makes this okay.”
Her gaze dropped to the counter again. To the panties. “And I’m telling you right now,” she added, quieter, “I don’t need one.”
Steve set the glass down slowly, like if he moved too fast the whole thing would explode. “You don’t even want to—talk about it?”
Peggy let out a small breath, something almost like a humorless laugh. “Steve,” she said, and there was something almost kind in it. “We’ve been not talking about it for years.”
His throat tightened at that, the bitter feeling of guilt coming up like bile inside his mouth. “You think I didn’t notice?” she continued, tilting her head slightly. “The distance. The way you started going on more runs. The way you stopped even trying with me.”
Steve dragged a hand down his face. “It wasn’t supposed to—”
“Turn into something?” Peggy finished for him.
He nodded barely, and she narrowed her eyes at him like she was studying a version of him she'd never seen before. Like the man she'd been sleeping next to was a complete stranger.
When she asked him if he loved you, his hesitation was answer enough.
“Peg—” he stepped forward, arm extended at some feeble attempt to comfort her, and she put both of her hands in the air as a sign to stop him, something frantic finally breaking through. “It’s not like that, I just— I got—”
“Lonely?” she offered.
He stopped, swallowed. “…Yeah.”
She nods slowly. “Me too.” Then Peggy exhaled through her nose, almost amused again, like she was deciding whether to say something she’d been holding onto. "…I kissed Howard.”
It’s so unexpected it takes a second to even register.
“What?”
She shrugs one shoulder, casual in a way that feels surreal given the weight of it. “A few weeks ago. After a late night at the firm. We were going over a case, had a couple drinks, and…” She gestures vaguely. “It just happened.”
Steve wasn't angry. How could he be? It was one kiss, he'd had a whole entire affair — that was still ongoing, by the way — he didn't have a leg to stand on. And he felt relieved. Not angry, not betrayed, just like a weight had lifted off of his shoulder.
Just… surprised.
“And?” he asked, quieter now.
Another deep breath from her, Peggy tried to fight a smile at the memory. “And it didn’t feel wrong,” she said simply. “That’s how I knew.”
She pushed off the counter, smoothing her hands over her pants like she was grounding herself in the moment. “I thought I’d feel guilty. Or panicked. Or like I’d ruined something.” Her eyes met his again. “But all I felt was… clarity.”
Steve let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “Guess we’re a pair, huh?” he mutters.
That earned a real smile from her this time. Small, but genuine.
“Guess so.”
Peggy hummed softly, tapping her fingers against her arm. “I mean, we were good on paper. We always have been. Safe. Predictable.” Her eyes flicked up to him, searching, not accusing. “But I haven’t been in love with you for a while, Steve. And I think… I think I knew that. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.”
It was quiet, the way everything moved.
For any divorces brought on by cheating, this was probably the easiest that Murdock & Sons ever took care of. Everything divided 50/50, Steve took the house since he'd spend more time with Jamie and Peggy wanted to move closer to the firm anyway.
The house felt different after she left.
Quieter.
But not the quiet that suffocates, the quiet that settled. The quiet you'd only find in early mornings when the world hadn't woken up yet aside from the birds outside, and the sky was turning from a deep indigo to a light purple.
He's started noticing things he never had, the hum of the espresso machine, the way the house looked a little more lived in — not messy in the slightest, but like a happy family lived there.
Cause a happy family did live there.
Him, and Jamie, and… you.
It wasn’t immediate. Not officially. There was no conversation about it, no moment where Steve sat you down and said this is what you are to me now.
It just… happened.
You started staying over more often. At first on the nights Jamie wasn’t there—late dinners, falling asleep on the couch, your things slowly appearing in corners of the house. A hair tie on the bathroom counter. A sweater draped over the back of a chair. Your favorite mug somehow becoming the one he always reached for in the morning.
Then it bled into the rest of his life.
The first time you were there when Jamie was, Steve had braced himself for it to feel strange. Complicated. But it wasn’t—not in the way he expected.
You fit.
Too easily.
You moved through the kitchen like you belonged there, barefoot on the tile, talking softly to Jamie while you warmed his bottle, swaying without even realizing it. The baby watched you like he always had—wide-eyed, curious, reaching for you with that same instinctive trust.
Steve stood there, leaning against the doorway, watching it unfold like something he hadn’t meant to build but suddenly couldn’t imagine undoing.
You made the space warmer.
Livelier.
You laughed more than Peggy ever did in that house. Left the TV on in the background. Sat cross-legged on the floor with Jamie, letting him tug at your fingers, your sleeves, your hair. You picked him up when he cried, and while you didn't freak out at every little thing, you grazed soothing circles on his back until he calmed down. You didn’t follow a schedule with him like it was a checklist—you just… were with him.
And Steve felt it.
Everywhere.
In the way the house smelled like your lotion instead of sterile clean linen. In the way there was always something half-finished on the counter because you got distracted mid-task. In the way you’d call out to him from another room like you’d been doing it for years.
It blurred the lines fast.
Most nights, after Jamie was asleep, the house would fall into that softer kind of quiet again—the kind that felt private instead of empty.
What really did him into the abyss of "I left my wife for a PYT" was when he caught himself staring at the crown molding in the ceiling — the one Peggy specifically picked out for their bedroom and it made him feel like an old Victorian man — and he didn't hate it anymore.
Steve had always noticed the intricate trim she had picked out years ago, something she’d been so proud of.
He used to stare at it some nights, lying stiffly on his back, feeling like he was trapped in a life that looked perfect but felt… cold. Like a museum display of a marriage instead of something living.
Because instead of a frigid, frozen marriage suffering from hypothermia in his sheets, he was naked with you on top of him, bare as the days you spent at the bed and breakfast, kissing down his body.
The sheets tangled at his feet, and he tilted his head to look at you instead. Plush, kiss-bitten lips leaving licks, sucks, and kisses down his sternum, the top of his abs, then lower, lower, lower, until you bit the deep V by his hipbone.
Steve sighed deeply, content, eyes locking with yours as you soothed the bite with a kiss. "You're a fucking tease." There was no real bite behind it, the side smile on his face telling you it was all coming from a place of l—
"Don't act like you don't like it." You murmured against his skin, lips brushing closer and closer to the needy length of him.
You kissed the base, making him groan. Then another kiss, and another, and another, as you scooted lower and got yourself comfortable leaning over him, between his spread legs.
A long lick from base to tip before you put him in your mouth, soaking him in your spit, made him hiss and close his eyes in pleasure. Big, warm hands coming to brush your hair out of your face and into a makeshift bun on the back of your head.
"That's it, sweetheart, fuck—" He knew he should feel ashamed. He knew he should feel at least a little bad that he'd be patted on the back for soaking sheets his ex-wife picked out with your slick and sweat.
And he couldn't give less of a fuck when his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged, and pulled him in even more.
He didn't even have to ask.
Whether it was some sort of people pleasing tendency, or that you just liked it, he really didn't want to know the answer.
Some nights he struggled to keep up with your sex drive, like ovulation had turned you into a ravenous animal who could only be satiated by orgasms.
“Doesn’t it feel nice? To touch someone who wants you?” Yeah, it felt pretty fucking nice.
You hummed around his length, knowing what it did to him, and his hips bucked up into your face.
He watched you slowly bob you head up and down his cock, the only sound in the room being the wet schlick of you taking him deeper and deeper and his moans.
He tried keeping quiet, you had only gotten Jamie down half an hour prior, but every time you swirled your tongue around the head and pressed it to the underside of the tip, he got louder.
The hand that wasn't stroking the parts of his length that weren't in your mouth, was rubbing his balls in delicate motions, every now and then palming a little bit deeper.
Steve felt like he was in fucking heaven.
“Jesus…” he exhales under his breath, voice rough, barely held together. “You’re—”
A sharp cry cut through the moment like glass. The baby monitor alerting you Jamie was definitely up.
You pulled him out of your mouth with a pop, spit all over you lower lip and chin. Steve groaned—actually groaned—his head thumping back harder against the pillow. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
You wiped your chin on the back of your hand, and hopped off the bed, walking closer to him and the bedside table, grabbing his discarded t shirt from the floor and pulling it over your head.
“Relax,” you say lightly, leaning over him and kissing him on the lips. “I’ve got him.” Leaving him there, hard, wet, and leaking.
Steve watched you go.
Actually watched you—like he couldn't quite wrap his head around how quickly you switched, how easily you move from one thing to the next like it’s all just part of the same life.
Watched you wipe your hands on the shirt and disappear down the hall.
Your voice came quietly and sweetly from the monitor next, just over the cries. “Hey, sweetheart… what’s wrong, huh?” gentle, warm, completely different than the teasing tone you had seconds ago.
He heard the cries get less and less loud, and then stop altogether, only the soothing south of your voice coming through the monitor, and the dull shuffle as you swayed back and forth in the room with him in your arms.
Soft glow of the nursery lamp washing over you, Jamie tucked against your shoulder, his little fist curled into your shirt like he’s holding onto something he doesn’t want to lose.
“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” you murmur, swaying slowly, your cheek resting against the top of Jamie’s head. “You’re alright, baby. Just a bad dream, yeah?”
It shouldn't , but it makes Steve harder knowing that you're just so good with such an important part of his life.
It makes him wonder, if this how it was always supposed to be, if every good and bad decision brought him, brought you here for a reason, in whatever twisted way that was.
And his mind wandered.
Wandered to dangerous places that had you moving out of next door, and into this house for good. Places that had a ring on your finger, and you driving his Bronco. Places that had you on your back under him every night until a belly round with his kid wouldn't let you anymore.
In five minutes, you're back, skipping quietly into the room, taking him out of his daydream when your knees hit the mattress and you crawled to perch yourself on top of him.
Steve groaned at the feel of your bare pussy on his painfully hard length.
"He's good," you ground down onto him, hands resting on the sides of his face to pull him in for a kiss. "He went right back down."
You pulled away, leaning back ever so slightly to reach for the hem of the shirt and take it off, tossing it to its rightful place on the floor next to the bed.
Steve sat up, bringing you down for a kiss again, his beard tickling your face as his hands roamed all over your body, kneading the skin of your thighs and ass between his palms.
You sighed as he pulled away to kiss all over your neck and chest, letting his teeth graze the skin of your breast, making you hiss, followed by a moan when he rocked your hips down against him and the head of his cock bumped your clit.
"Shhh, don't want him to wake up again." He murmured against your skin, using his other hand to tweak the nipple he wasn't swirling his tongue around.
As you rocked back and forth, slicking him up in your wetness, the heat licking up your spine started to get hotter and hotter.
"Steve…" Your nails scraped softly at his shoulders, coming to rest at the nape of his neck playing with his hair that had gotten longer. "Please."
That made him chuckle, turning his face to look up at you from beneath his long lashes with a boyish smile that could've made you cum untouched.
"What d'ya want, honey?"
Taunting you was one of his favorite things to do, and if you weren't so into it, it'd make him feel like a fucking creep.
"Want you." You rocked your hips again, hand coming down to line him up with your entrance.
"Ah, ah, ah," His grip on your hips tightened. "Use your words."
The little huff of air that left your lips would've been adorable if it wasn't for such obscene sight.
"Want your cock, Steve."
God, he'd never get tired of hearing you say that.
He bit his lip, still smirking at you, and pulled you down his shaft agonizingly slow, until you sat flush on top of him, your breath caught in your throat at the first sting of his entire length inside of you.
You sat up, and sank back down until you built a rhythm that had you kissing and sucking all over his neck to stay quiet, heavy ragged breaths from both of you.
"Steve, hah—" His hands tightened on your ass cheeks, bringing you down harder and harder onto him, until it hurt deliciously every time the tip of him hit your cervix.
"So— fuck— so good." His voice was strained, like he was holding back to make it last longer. "Taking my cock so good."
He licked his thumb and brought it down to rub deep circles on your clit, his other hand coming to grab your face and tilt it down to look at him.
"Feel good? Huh?"
Pathetic little "uh huh!"s left your lips, more and more whiny by the second.
"Can feel you clenching around me, honey."
Honey.
He liked to call you honey, it was… domestic.
It got harder and harder to keep the rhythm, your eyes rolling back and your thighs burning, all the while the noise of blood rushing between your ears got louder and louder.
"Gonna keep you here just like this, fuck—" He pistoned his hips up harder to meet your thrusts. "Just leaking, wet, all mine—"
Steve interrupted himself with a deep groan when you reached your peak, riding that high and getting impossibly tight around him.
“Gonna keep you stuffed so full, always.” He thrusted more and more erratically. “Til. It. Takes.” He said it mostly to himself, but you heard it.
He followed suit, biting your chin lightly as he spilled all he had into you until it leaked out onto him.
You just stayed like that for a bit, his fingers grazing your back gently, kissing your temple, until both of you felt ready to clean up.
What woke Steve the next morning was a knock at the door, to no one's surprise.
It was wednesday, it was 7am, it happened every week.
Peggy came to take Jamie until Saturday at noon.
You stirred a little against him, shifting with a small sound, your fingers curling lightly into his chest before your eyes flutter open.
“…what time is it?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.
Steve glances toward the clock, then back at you.
“Morning,” he says quietly. “She’s here.” He kissed your forehead. “I’ve got it,” Steve murmurs, already shifting out from under you, grabbing a pair of sweats off the floor.
You sat up in bed, pulling the sheet loosely around yourself, watching him for a second as he moves around the room—familiar, practiced, like this routine has already settled into place.
And maybe it has.
By the time he makes it down the stairs and opens the door, Peggy was waiting at the doorlike she still didn't have a key.
“Morning,” she said, easy.
“Hey,” he replied.
Jamie was already awake, soft little noises coming from the baby monitor clipped to the counter behind him, and Peggy’s eyes flicked toward it instinctively.
“Up already?” she asked.
“Just now,” Steve said. “We were about to get him.”
We.
It slipped out without thinking.
But she didn’t comment on it. Just nodded once, stepping inside like she was passing through, not returning. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll grab his bag.”
Steve turned toward the stairs, but he only made it halfway before he heard your voice—soft, still thick with sleep, drifting down from above.
Peggy’s head tilted slightly, eyes following the sound without looking fully surprised. Steve paused for half a second, then nodded to himself like it didn’t matter.
A beat after he responded.
Then your footsteps.
Slow at first, then more certain as you came down the stairs, one hand loosely holding the edge of the oversized shirt you were wearing—his shirt—like it didn’t even register as something to think about.
Peggy looked at you, somehow without an ounce of animosity. Almost… glad that you opened her eyes to the rest of her life.
The sleep-soft expression. The familiarity in the way you moved. The fact that you didn’t hesitate at all when you reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Morning,” you said, voice gentle.
“Morning,” Peggy returned, just as calm.
Jamie let out a louder sound from upstairs, and without thinking, you turned back toward the stairs.
“I’ll get him—”
“I’ve got it,” Steve said automatically.
But you were already moving.
Already halfway up.
And that—more than anything—made Peggy’s gaze linger.
Not on Steve.
On you.
On how natural it was.
How unforced.
By the time Steve followed you up, you were already in the nursery, lifting Jamie from his crib, murmuring something soft against his hair as he settled into you like he always did.
Steve stopped in the doorway.
Watched.
That same quiet feeling from the night before settling in again—heavy, real, undeniable.
Downstairs, Peggy moved through the kitchen, grabbing the bag she knew exactly where to find, packing a couple things without needing to ask.
Because even now, she still knew the house.
She just didn’t belong to it anymore.
A few minutes later, you came back down with Jamie tucked against your chest, his head resting against your shoulder, half-awake and content.
Peggy stepped forward to take him, and he went easily—but not before his fingers curled into your shirt for just a second longer than necessary.
You smiled faintly, smoothing his hair back.
“See you in a few days, sweetheart,” you murmured.
Peggy watched that, too.
Then adjusted him on her hip.
“I’ll bring him back Saturday,” she said.
Steve nodded. “Yeah.”
She shifted her bag onto her shoulder, pausing just briefly as her eyes moved between the two of you—Steve standing close behind you, your hand still lingering where Jamie had been, the quiet ease in the space.
No chaos.
No tension.
Just… a life continuing.
“Have a good rest of the week,” she added.
“You too,” Steve said.
You gave a small nod. “Drive safe.”
Peggy’s lips curved just slightly—something soft, almost amused, almost knowing.
Then she turned, stepped out, and pulled the door shut behind her.
I genuinely love the concept of Yandere Clark Kent. He loves so deeply already; imagine how bad it would be if we cranked that up by a hundred. He's the epitome of a soft yandere and he'd be the perfect stalker because of his heightened senses.
There's a spot he goes to on the rooftop of the apartment complex opposite yours. He visits the place all the time to watch you go about your day in your apartment. He loves just watching you exist.
He listens in on you throughout the day too when he’s busy, and I mean constantly. Literally can't fall asleep without listening to the beat of your heart. It's adorably pathetic. Mostly pathetic.
Yes, he also listens to you masturbate. He's an undercover pervert, and I'll die on that hill.
Oh my god, imagine him jerking off to you. He's so whiny the whole time, wishing that his hands were yours. He can't cum without hearing your voice ):
Oh, and he definitely rambles about you whenever he visits the fortress. The robots don't care; in fact, they cheer him on. They were made for him, after all.
Ma and Pa also bear witness to his lovesick ramblings. Mostly through the phone.
He wouldn't kill someone for getting too close to you, I think; Clark's a gentle giant after all, but there have been a few ‘accidental’ broken bones. He just doesn't realize his own strength sometimes. However, all bets are off if someone harasses or hurts you.
I could go on about this for literal hours.
Give me a soft yandere Clark Kent and my life is yours.
your taunt was meant to be cruel, edged with a secret clark guarded with his every being. his face contorts in frustration, annoyance ebbing deep within him. his body remained bowed above you, trembling with effort when you deliberately shifted.
his hips jerk involuntarily, tip of his cock grazing your clit, throbbing and aching from having been blue-balled. "don't…say that." you release a shuddering breath as his thumb comes down to your sensitive bud. you jump at the rough callouses, rubbing against it hard.
your gaze snaps up, catching the conflicted look paint his expression, mirroring one of your own when he withdraws completely from you without breaking eye-contact. clark lifts you, a motion that was effortless as he carries you toward the bed. the tense, impulsive air from earlier — wanting to fuck each other so bad that you'd both been on the floor, had been promptly broken, replaced with clark's much more competitiveness and determination to prove you wrong.
he doesn't immediately re-enter you as he lowers you onto the unmade bed. instead, he kneels between your parted thighs. warmer, bigger palms slide up the plush fat, tightening in a painful intensity as he tugs you abruptly to the edge. it knocks the breath completely out of you.
his thumb skirts at the edge of your inner thighs where you were slick with arousal. the silence felt much more unnerving than his usual show of poutiness. "...clark?"
clark leans down, replacing the pads of his thumb on your inner thighs with his mouth. you jump at the press of his lips, followed by the sharp nip of his teeth on the sensitive skin. he works his way upward, holding you still against the mattress.
it's agonising. all of it. his slow explorative touches, all the hot, wet kisses everywhere but where you needed it the most. he's somehow managed to park his own aching need, painfully bobbing against his own abdomen — with the intentional dragging out of your pleasure.
you wince when his gaze meets yours. they aren't unkind, but they're glazed with a new teasing glint you hadn't quite seen from clark yet.
"claaark…quit teasing…"
your sweet plea echoes in the room, and you feel a low, approving hum vibrate against your skin. as though he'd been waiting for you to get the taste of what you'd deprived him of. his mouth wraps around your pussy without further teasing. tongue flattened, pressing a firm and relentless pressure. your back arches off the bed, though restricted with a possessive hold pushing them back down onto the duvet.
"f-fuck! cla — hhrk. don't — stop!"
clark's palm slides up your belly, moving upward to cup your warm, sweat-slick breasts. he squeezes the softness as his tongue works your pussy. dipping in and out of your tight walls and up to your clit. his mouth was just so fucking big that it felt like he was everywhere around you.
helplessly, you buck into clark's mouth, rocking and grinding into the gentle curve of his nose. whimpering incoherently at the assault of his wet, insistent tongue curling to the roof of your cunt.
he knows when you're close. and he sucks your bud hard, the sound wet and obscene in the room, "a-ah fuck! gonna cum. g'na cum!"
clark's acknowledgment rumbles riiight against your clit. he feels the telltale sign of your orgasm as you pulse on his tongue. broken cries spill from your throat as you cum hard, thighs quivering with how clark refused to relent, drawing out every last drop of your slick until you're a trembling puddle beneath him, with an arm strewn over your eyes as you finally come down from the high.
the mattress dips at the shift of his weight, the shadow casting over you ominously just as you think it's over.
he looks to you, desperate and broken, unable to curb his own need. you feel him pry your arm away from your face, "gonna put it in okay? hm?"
you barely get to protest as he positions himself at your entrance. offering you enough time for refusal or hesitation. but the needy look of his gaze was enough for your body to act in compliance. you slide your palm past your navel, to the folds of your cunt, parting it wider for him to see the eager pulse.
a low broken groan rumbles in clark's throat at the sight, the quiet invitation being all he needed. he enters you in a deep thrust, accentuated with a jerk of his hips. you both gasp simultaneously, the overwhelming full feeling coming so soon after your earlier orgasm has you tightening deliciously around his cock.
"mmh…baby you need t'relax," he chokes, enforcing his iron will to make good on his unspoken promise to make sure you feel like he fucked you.
he wanted you to feel him even days after, and that determination was enough for him to keep a languid pace, designed to draw out your pleasure.
and god, it had. each stroke of his girthy cock in your walls, the creamy, slick that made it so much easier for him to fuck your pussy in shallow thrusts. the sounds alone were making your belly churn with need, let alone that sweet spot he hit over and over again.
your palms come up to rest at his abdomen, each thrust making you go dumb, incoherent babbles spilling from your lips. his body remains a fortress. the muscles in his arms tensed and reddened, back rigid and strained with every fiber of him taut.
"s'too…much!" you squeak, weakly pawing at him, in attempt to push him.
clark catches your hands, lacing his own fingers with yours with a single palm, pinning them gently above your head with a pressure that offered you escape if you wished. he keeps at the pace, brows knit in focus.
"i-i can't anymore."
he merely tuts softly at your breathless whisper, clearly having lost all the fight from your earlier taunts. he sees the truth in your words, the trembling or your thighs and blissed out look in your eyes. but he shakes his head, voice low and equally pleading.
"yes…you can."
"claaaaark…" you whine softly as he guides your limp arms over his shoulders, cupping one of your palms flush against his fever-hot cheeks.
"i'm getting real…real close baby," his voice cracks for a second, "can you hold on? f'me?" through laboured pants, he continues grinding and circling his cock into your cunt.
you pulse around him with another, drawn out whine. dragging your nails down his damp, strained biceps. when you offer a weak nod, the bed creaks louder. whispered curses were quickly swallowed when he shifts his angle a tad, hitting a spot in you that made your vision blur.
"fuck! t-there", you gasp sharply, fingers digging into his muscles. you nod hastily, unsure at even what — the insistent probe of his cock in that gummy spot deep within you sent shockwaves through your entire body. pushing you into another, white hot peak. the bed frames only continue scream louder under the relentless motion he keeps up.
"here?" he pants, gaze unfocused as he tilts his body to support his weight, with his forearm against the duvet to keep the angle.
"FUCK, yes! there, there — th—ah!"
your pussy gushes around him with no further warning, fluttering hard along his length as you cum again. a ragged grunt resonates against the side of your head, followed by clark's growls. his hips bucks wildly, body shuddering as he coats your insides deep with spurts of his thick spend.
the force of his very last thrust elicits a screeching crack of the bed frames, and you both drop hard.
the two of you briefly look at each other in a bewildered surprise and synchronised breathing, and you finally break the intense haze.
"shit." you croak, voice hoarse in its delivery.
clark lets out a huff, rolling to his side and taking you with him so you're nestled against his chest instead of being crushed beneath him as he slump.
Hear me out what if Clark’s dick is so good it makes the reader pass out 👀
HIII! I’m sorry I’m so bad at replying !!
I like the way you think
18+ mentions of rough sex , swearing , whimpering , passing out , after care , mentions of breeding and mating press!!
Word count :648
He hadn’t meant for it to go this far .. he really hadn’t. He was stuck in a kryptonian rut , you promised you could handle it. Because normally you could handle his fucking. But tonight …you were currently folded in half into a mating press , four orgasms deep and he’s whimpering like a mad man pounding into your tight pussy dripping wet from all the rounds he had put you through. “Baby I’m so sorry NGHH I’m sorry I need more please… please let me take more .. just one more I’m so sorry baby please forgive me”
You sobbed babbling incoherently mascara running down your face and oh he feels so guilty when you nod your pretty little head. “S.. sokay” You forced yourself to speak out that one word.
He leans down folding you even further in half making you feel like you were gonna snap in two and you sobbed as he kisses your cheek and tears away as he fucks into you harder.
“Thank you baby.. I’ll make it up to you I swear” He whimpers sweetly not holding back and bullying your pretty pussy listening to your sobs feeling so guilty. But he can’t help it. He’s gonna fucking ruin you.
“Wanna see you all swollen baby… wanna see you swollen with my baby.. need to breed you.. I’m sorry .. really I am I just.. I need it .. we need it.. need my baby to have a baby” He slams his dick into you harder almost crying.
You were close. Brutally close. Head fuzzy. You couldn’t tell him. Your hand reached out to squeeze him as if to tell him you’re close.
“Go on baby.. give it to me. Come on.. lemme breed you sweetie” You sobbed clamping down onto his dick like a vice and he follows after rutting load after load cramming his cum as deep into your womb as he can ,his hyperspermia making your pussy all swollen and you feel your head go fuzzy. And before too long you passed out.
“You did so good baby.. I’m sorry .. baby?” He lightly taps your cheek realising that you’ve passed out.
He wastes no time pulling out hysterical and tapping your face checking your pulse sighing feeling it still there.
“Come back baby I’m sorry I’m so so sorry” He runs to grab a cloth soaking it in cold water and placing it on your head cooing.
When your eyes open he’s so gentle with you.
“Hey sweet baby can you hear me?” You nod at him blinking a few times and he speaks again.
“Can you speak for me honey?” He coos again.
“What happened?” you splutter out and with a shaky breath he carefully carries you to the bathroom already setting up a bath for you.
“Sweet bug I’m so sorry.. I was so rough with you .. I couldn’t help it please don’t think I’m a monster”
He checks the temp of the water for you filling it with cherry scented bubble bath and places you in like you’re made of glass.
You reach out carefully cupping his face. “I don’t think you’re a monster Clark.. I know you can’t help it.. I trust you with my body . I forgive you okay?”
He almost bursts into tears with how understanding you were about his kryptonian biology as he Carefully wipes between your legs not wanting to overstimulate you more.
“I don’t deserve you bug… I’m sorry baby.. I really am okay?” You nod believing him and sooth the mood by blowing bubbles in his face and he chuckles grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it.
After the bath he scoops you up and drys you off with a towel shushing and rocking you gently before pulling a hoodie over you and carrying you to bed peppering your face in kisses.
a quickie as soon as you arrive home from the daily planet because you wore your newest skirt and CLARK KENT couldn’t help but to start pounding into you as soon as you both entered your shared apartment’s door.
he’s so nice, telling you to be quiet as he deep thrusts into you so your neighbors won’t complain about the noise (again…)
tags — 18+ minors dni | f!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), spooning sex, size difference, pet names (sweetheart & baby), dirty talk, creampie (0.6 wc)
the clock on your bedside table reads 7:14am and clark has you on your side, his body engulfing yours as his chest presses up against your back. with an arm wrapped around your front, clark holds you tight against him—rubbing slow, languid circles on your swollen clit.
a soft, muffled groan tumbles from clark’s lips as you slowly roll your hips back—his cock nestled deep inside your cunt, stretching you open. you desperately try to fight back your need for him, for his cock, knowing you have to get ready for work, but you’re practically begging for more.
his pelvis is snug against your ass—coarse curls beneath his navel brushing against you. you feel all of him, every ridge, every vein, every twitch as he rocks into your cunt. clark moves his hand to grip your thigh, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he gently hooks your leg over his thigh, spreading you wider.
the new angle drove him deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. the room fills with your breaths mingling together with the filthy, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you.
just as quickly as it left, clarks hand returns to your clit and you instinctively clench around him, trying to pull him deeper as he ruts against you. clark’s breath is warm against the nape of your neck as he lightly bites down on the skin of your shoulder.
every roll of clark’s hips is with a little more tenacity each time, seeking that delicious friction. the pleasure is overwhelming, completely taking over all of your senses. you can’t think of anything else, except for clark, and how he's ruining you for anyone else.
“taking me so well, baby,” he mutters, kissing behind your ear.
you cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets, then at his forearm—your nails leaving crescent indents in his skin. he revels in the soft, needy moans you make with each shallow thrust. you move your hips in counterpoint, chasing the pleasure of his fingers and the fullness of his cock.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart, that's it,” he mumbles, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you repeatedly.
an embarrassingly loud moan slips from your lips as you cum without warning. your body shudders hard against his—your orgasm crashing through you and taking your breath away. clark gently coaxes you through it, rocking his hips in a slow, gentle rhythm while pressing tender kisses along your shoulder and neck.
clark's hips stutter and his own orgasm catches him off-guard. he buries himself to the hilt, releasing thick, hot ropes of cum deep within your cunt—filling you completely as his cock throbs and pulses inside you.
you clench around him and clark hides his face in your neck with a weak, tired chuckle. his hand squeezes your hip tenderly as he slowly eases himself out of you. your cunt clenches around nothing, missing his cock already. you can feel his release leak from you and slide down your thighs but you pay no mind to it.
“good morning to you too,” clark says through soft pants.
“hmm, good morning indeed,” you hum, turning to face him with a small smile.
clarks thighs basically bulge out of his slacks when he sits down. they are so thick, they just can’t be contained. you always though it was strange how he would wear oversized suit jackets, yet he would wear the tightest pants known to man, always showing off his ass and thighs. maybe you were just a perve for noticing, watching him awkwardly jog around the daily planet when his story was almost past due. his pants straining to try and keep up with him.
you thought you were immune to clark’s boyish charm until you were sitting in his apartment with only your cotton underwear on. the pink bow right in the middle of the decorative lettuce lace keeps bringing clark’s attention right to your center.
“ my pretty girl wears the cutest underwear.”
“clark!” you gasp, overwhelmed by his boldness and the feeling of his thick finger tracing just above your underwear line.
he pats his lap, beckoning you over to him. you shyly saunter over and just as you’re about to straddle him, he clicks his tongue. “uh ah, sweetheart. just pick one.”
you face flushes, stricken by his instructions, you timidly throw your legs on either side of his right thigh. the second your clothed pussy connects with his slacks you let out a shaky moan. the pressure was heavenly and his thighs were just big enough to feel like you were riding your pillow, which is what you would do when you used to dream about clark. now with the real thing underneath you, you wait for his sign for you to start moving.
“it’s ok sweetheart, take what you need.” he hums. “you’re such a good girl, waiting for me.”
you begin to move your hips, taking in the feeling of fabric rubbing on fabric. it just so perfectly rubbed against your clit they way you needed. clark starts to bounce his leg, using his super speed to vibrate underneath you. you heart rate explodes at the new sensation. between the vibrating and the the sturdiness of his thigh you were already so close to hitting your peak.
“i know sweetheart. don’t think i didn’t notice you checking out my thighs at work.” his hand finds your hip to steady you, your body absorbing the speed and movement he was outputting with his leg. “you dirty girl.”
“clark.. i’m close-”
his leg keeps up the steady pace, allowing you to rock back and forth to take what you need. your tits were bouncing up and down in time with his leg. clark couldn’t decide what to stare at, your pretty face or your beautiful tits.
oh and the sounds. the sounds were so erotic. your moans, the wet fabric gliding across your gushing pussy, you tits slapping against each other, and the sweet sounds that were constantly escaping your mouth.
how did clark move this fast? you thought. with his thigh vibrating at a super sonic speed, you wondered how fast his fingers could go. maybe they could vibrate too. you’d never have to touch your vibrator again if clark could do it for you.
your hips start to lose their rhythm, rutting against clark’s now drenched slacks.
“clarkie.. i-” your breathing goes erratic. your hands fly to his shoulders to keep you up. suddenly your release washes over you, damping his pants even more. your panties we’re soaked, molded to your pussy and slick with your cum.
clark slowly stops vibrating his leg allowing you to come down from the high you were experiencing. you slump against his shoulder breathing into his neckt. his large hand comes to covers your back soothing you.
“was that ok for you sweetheart? not too much?”
“it was perfect.” you sigh.
still in your embrace, he reaches around your head to adjust his glasses. you stay straddled on his thigh and play with the tufts of hair just barely peeking over his dress shirt.
“so do you fingers vibrate like that too?”
clark chuckles and you can feel the heat rising into his neck. “your insatiable, honey.”
bruce wayne and clark kent at the same time | 18+
tw: cursing, smut, degrading kink, praise kink, nsfw mdni
Bruce's fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks, his thrusts merciless as he pounded into you from behind. Your moans were muffled by Clark's cock as he thrusted into your mouth, not nearly as rough as Bruce's thrusts. "That's it, take our cocks like a fucking slut." Bruce growled, his palm landing a sharp slap to your ass. You yelped, jolting forward, which only made you take Clark's cock deeper down your throat.
Clark's fingers threaded through your hair gently, the feeling drastically different from the way Bruce was gripping your hips. "Fuck, you're doing so well baby. You're so pretty like this." He groaned as he looked down at you. You looked up at him through your lashes, face tearstained and messy with mascara, lip gloss smudged on your cheek, saliva dripping down your lips and chin.
Bruce let out a dark chuckle, his hips snapping forward roughly, causing your cunt to squeeze his length. "Look at her Clark, can't even decide which cock you like more. Fuck, you just love cock so much, don't you, dirty little slut." He growled as he gripped your ass, kneading the flesh in his large hands.
Clark's thumb brushed along your cheekbone, gently wiping away a stray tear. His hand tightened in your hair softly, helping guide you along his length. "You're so perfect," he murmured, voice thick with affection. "Love seeing those pouty lips stretched around my cock, sucking my cock so well." He groaned when your tongue flicked the underside of his shaft. "God, you're fucking mouth is so perfect. So fucking perfect." He whimpered, his pace becoming choppy, signaling that he was close.
Bruce's grip on your hips tightened even more, his rhythm turning erratic as he grunted through clenched teeth. "Gonna fill this greedy cunt up," he snarled, fingers biting into your skin. "Gonna breed this cunt until you're dripping for days. Make sure you remember who owns this perfect fucking pussy." His hips jerked against you a couple more timed before he stilled, his cock twitching deep inside of you, warmth flooding you as he filled you up with his seed. He pulled out, the sound obscenely loud. You whimpered when his fingers threaded through your hair roughly, thrusting you onto Clark's cock. "C'mon, choke on his cock. Make him cream down that pretty throat." He growled.
Tears sprang in your eyes once again as you looked up at Clark. Bruce's grip caused you to take Clark all the way, your nose pressing against his stomach as you gagged. Clark's fingers loosened Bruce's grip in your hair, easing you up just enough so you could breathe comfortably around his cock. "Easy, sweetheart." He murmured, his hips rocking shallowly, the head of his cock dragging against your tongue. "You don't have to take it all, it's okay baby. Just take as much as you can handle, sweet girl."
"You're fucking pathetic. Can't even take him down your throat properly?" Bruce laughed mockingly, his fingers tracing a line down your spine before landing another sharp slap to your ass. The feeling was dizzying, having Bruce degrade and humiliate you while Clark whispered soft praises, his touch gentle compared to Bruce's manhandling.
Clark's breath hitched as you hollowed your cheeks around him, his fingers twitching in your hair. "Christ, you feel amazing." He choked out, his thrusts growing sloppy. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum baby." He groaned, voice wrecked. You moaned around him, urging him on. Clark groaned loudly, thighs tensing as he came down your throat. You continued to suck his cock, helping him through his orgasm.
"Look at her, still trying to suck you dry. Little fucking cockslut, isn't she?" Bruce chuckled darkly.
Clark pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with your spit, a string of it connecting your lips to his cock. You gasped when Bruce flipped you around so you were now facing him. He stroked his length a few times, his cock covered in your mixed arousal. "Now you're gonna take my cock down your throat like a good fucking girl while you let Clark fill that greedy little pussy up with more cum. Understood?" He asked as the head of his cock brushed against your lips. You nodded, looking up at him, your eyes watery and your lips puffy, but you still wanted more. Needed more. Bruce smirked. "Good girl, because we're not done with you yet."
❀ end note: i looove soft dom clark and mean dom bruce so much. this dynamic drives me feral. i have more planned for these two so stay tuned! 🤭🙈
❀ if you liked this fic then i would really appreciate it if you liked, or commented, or reblog it! thanks for reading! ❀
Clark Kent isn’t really a fan of doggy style. He much prefers positions where he can see your face and admire you as he’s making you fall apart. Missionary, cowgirl, against the wall, on top of the counter, on the floor…the possibilities are endless.
He doesn’t just wanna fuck you. He wants to make love to you. He was taught that sex is what people do when they’re truly fully in love. To be quite literally naked physically but also emotionally and Clark took that to heart.
But…he has to admit theres one position that has his head spinning that his ma would probably shake her head at. But he can’t help it. He is after all just a man. Maybe not a human man but god when he hears those cries and feels your cunt wrapped around him he might as well be as weak as one.
You’re flat on your stomach, hands clawing at the sheets as Clark’s arm gently wraps around your head. A firm reminder of his presence. As if his dick pounding into you wan’t enough. He’s holding himself up with the other hand. Making sure he doesn’t crush you with his other worldly strength. His hips are punishing in their movements. Hard and slow, like he’s carving his name into your cunt.
Normally he likes watching your face as he makes you feel good but with this position he can hear your whimpers and moans so much clearer. His face is pressed to the side of yours, his nose smushed against your cheek. Pretty filth spilling from his lips as he praises you and your body for responding so well to him.
Making such sweet noises honey
You feel so good, squeezing me so tight m’afraid you need to relax baby
Making a mess on the sheets hm? That’s okay I’ll take care of it just let go on my dick.
He has no idea the kind of effect he truly has on you but based on the way your thighs are shaking and your nails are digging into his arm, he has some idea.
He likes feeling you go limp in his arms, melting into a puddle and trusting Clark to take care of you. Your brain turning to mush but you know that he’s there and that he’s safe. Perhaps Superman has a small hero complex as the idea makes his cock twitch.
And when hes finally done and spent he presses a soft loving kiss to your temple. Whispering sweet praise over and over as he stays on top of you like a warm, comforting, loving blanket.
Thinking about Clark Kent realizing just how much you love dirty talk in the bedroom, but he has no idea how to say the things you do, so he steals a copy of one of the erotica books from your apartment. He takes to reading it, studying, and putting post-it annotations. Much to your surprise, next time the two of you are intimate, Clark manages to say the dirtiest things (even without cussing).
Maybe you have no clue how he learned, assuming that he had been absorbing and filing away all the raunchy things you say, only to use your words against you.
Or maybe you find the book at his place, tucked in his bedside drawer, annotations and all. Do you lovingly confront him, or do you let him have his secret?
If you were to bring it up, perhaps you would drop the book between the two of you. His eyes would fly open, and he'd sputter something like, "I-I can explain!" and boy, oh boy, you happily listen to him stutter his way through his reasoning.
Would you scold him and teach him a lesson for taking things without asking? Or would you test him and see just how much he's really learned? ...Why not both?
clark "that was a big one, huh? didn't that feel good?" kent that talks filth in your ear while he's playing with your cunt; two middle fingers hooked inside, heel of his palm pressed over your clit. he toys with it, with you — teasing both your mind and pussy as he controls the way in which you feel.
it's not just about your cunt, with him. it's about your mind too. he'd argue that it needs more stimulating than anything else. so when he's playing with your pussy, working you up more and more, he's lips are against the shell of your ear whispering uncharacteristic obscenities like a guide.
he talks to you in such a dulcet tone, words of praise and admiration making you feel the most idolised and most adored. he tells you how good you sound and how pretty you look, speaking it to you like it rolls off his tongue.
and every time that he makes you cum, he's talking you through it, encouraging the rippling feeling within your body with little, "that's it, there we go,"s
when you finally come down from each and every high, he's telling you how good you did and how well you responded to him. only it's followed with a soft question, an ask about your climax and if you, "want another one?" querying whether you have it in you for just one more.
thinking about clark holding your hand during sex...
tags — 18+ minors dni | f!reader, unprotected sex, clark talks you through it, size kink/difference, pet names (sweetheart & baby), clark calls reader beautiful, creampie (0.8k wc)
clark gently cups your face with his hand—his big palm cradling your jaw. his thumb brushes against your cheek as he stretches you open inch by inch. your breath catches, walls fluttering around him, already feeling full.
his pace is steady, slow but deep, like he’s got all the time in the world. his body engulfs yours, his thighs naturally forcing your body apart for him. your hands are all over him, fingers dragging across heated skin, nails scraping over the hard planes of his back.
“breathe for me, baby,” he rasps, sliding his hand up your arm and weaving his fingers through yours and lacing them together.
you try, you really do, but fuck, the burn—it's sharp, making your thighs tremble and hips jerk. he’s big, ridiculously so and your walls clench around him instinctively, trying to pull him deeper.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear as he brings your joined hands to rest beside your head on the pillow. “taking me so well.”
“mmph—clark!” you moan, feeling his thick, flushed head probe and stretch you to your limit.
the pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over again—dark curls beneath his navel brushing against your clit. clark’s gaze drops, watching where his cock disappears into you, your slick coating him and dripping onto the sheets below.
“doin’ so good f’me,” he pants, hiking one of your legs around his waist.
the bed frame creaks in time with his thrusts—his cock stretching you open deliciously. his hand tightens against yours, eyes transfixed at the sight of your face contorting in pleasure. your moans spill free, lewd and needy, mixing with the slick sounds of him fucking into you.
“so fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough.
“clark—!” your voice cracks on his name.
you feel all of him, every ridge and vein as he rocks into your heat. his thrusts pick up—he’s still holding back but not much as before. you lock your ankles at the base of his spine, heels digging into his back and pulling him in deeper.
every thrust makes your breath hitch, your body rocking with his. clark dips his head, his lips finding their way to your pulse point—sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. his hand squeezes yours and the muscles in his forearm constrict as he keeps himself propped up.
the feeling of his cock is too much, yet somehow, not enough. you arch your back, desperate for more and clark slips his free hand under your lower back to support the curve. the new angle has you moaning in ecstasy and the need for a release becomes greater and greater.
“you close, baby?” he mumbles, sweat dripping down the column of his neck.
unable to stop the gasps tumbling from your lips, you nod dumbly as he fills you over and over again. the rhythmic sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing fills the bedroom with each thrust from clark bringing a new wave of pleasure, leaving you wanting more.
clark moves his hand from your back and shifts it to your stomach—feeling where he was inside you, how he filled you completely. his palm presses down gently against the bulge of your stomach causing your toes to curl.
“see that?” clark manages between pants. “that’s all me…”
you feel him throb and pulse inside you as his thumb slides lower and circles your clit. that added stimulation, in time with his thrusts, sends shockwaves down your spine and the sound that slips past your lips is embarrassingly needy.
“i’ve got you, sweetheart,” clark whispers, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you.
you are unbelievably close and one more thrust is all you need before your orgasm washes over you. a broken moan tumbles from your lips as clark fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own.
clark’s hand tightens against yours as his thrusts become sloppy—his own orgasm crashing over him. his hips stutter as he buries himself to the hilt and stays there—pulsing hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you.
it feels endless—each spurt of cum painting your insides and filling you beyond capacity. you clench around him, your cunt milking every last drop until his cum starts to leak around the base of him, dripping down his balls.
clark rocks his hips lazily into your puffy, swollen cunt, his cock still thick and throbbing. your hips jerk weakly as his thumb continues to rub your clit raw—prolonging your orgasm.
slowly, clark brings the back of your hand to his lips and kisses it softly as he begins to pull out—your nails leaving crescent marks against his skin. a soft whimper escapes you as he leaves your swollen cunt.
you’re wrecked, and so is he. your cunt misses his cock already, glistening and stretched from taking him so deep. your release mixes with his, sticky strings connecting your folds to his slick, flushed cock.
“easy, baby,” he murmurs, watching you clench around nothing. “i know… i know.”
