cw: bicep biting, teasing, male whimpering, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talking you through it, hair pulling, he's described as big, back scratching, creampies, not proofread.
ⓘ Featuring how sexy Dick Grayson is for his pretty girl.
boyfriend!dick who muffles your moans with his bicep whenever you're staying over at his father's, cooing, "You need to be quiet" so his family won't find out how dirty you are, as if he isn't the one fucking into you so hard the headboard's slamming against the wall.
+ Bonus points: Whenever you finish, and he pulls back to see drool on his arm along with the teeth marks, he knows he did well.
boyfriend!dick who can spend hours teasing you before getting to work, with light brushes of his fingers up your thigh, light kisses to your lips, and rubbing the tip along your slit, but pulling back once you start begging him to just fuck you already.
Eventually, you wear each other down; you're moaning out his name & he's struggling not to finish in two minutes.
boyfriend!dick loves when you go down on him, fists clenching against the sheets as he struggles not to guide your head, biting down the sweetest moan every time you swirl your tongue around his blushing tip.
After he finishes in your mouth, he'll always wipe your lips clean & whisper how pretty you are in the shakiest, hottest tone known to man.
boyfriend!dick who tends to get a little needy & sometimes ends up dry humping you till he's creamed his boxers instead of just fucking you like he'd originally planned. Noting "it felt too good to stop" while letting out a choked laugh & burying his face in your throat.
He'll always joke about it afterwards. But it's kind of obvious at the moment how embarrassed he feels about it.
boyfriend!dick likes to finger you after a blowjob, scissoring you open on long fingers so he can stare at the wetness pooling on your skin while telling you just how sexy it looks to him & licks you clean after each orgasm.
He likes to give you at least two orgasms per one of his.
boyfriend!dick has grown used to your nails sinking into his back every time he bottoms out; he's even grown to like how every few thrusts bring the sweet sting of your nails scratching at him in sync with sharp moans.
boyfriend!dick who is well aware just how endowed he is & always takes it slow to let you adjust, making sure to whisper sweet little praises in your ear.
boyfriend!dick who has made himself well acquainted with your clit, happily goes down on you every time you're being bratty or not in a good mood, knowing his tongue can be an instant mood booster.
He always moans at the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp, pulling & begging for more, loving the sensation of feeling your pleasure through the sharp tugs.
boyfriend!dick who has a bad pullout game & ends up accidentally filling you up more often than he'd like to admit. He's so embarrassed when he pulls out and sees his seed spilling out, but your fucked-out expression always makes him feel better about it.
summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.
content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic
2k words whew
with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
.
on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.
starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.
that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.
and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.
every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.
after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.
then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.
it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!
the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.
clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.
he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-
in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.
noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.
he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.
you think you could ascend.
you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."
curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.
his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.
he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.
because clark has never looked this feral.
his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.
"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.
the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.
.
how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.
and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.
he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.
he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.
despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.
a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.
you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.
he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.
in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.
your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.
with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.
"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.
he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.
a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"
"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."
clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.
a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.
— After months dating, you now can't hold back whenever you see how adorable Jason can be sometimes, leaving Jason a little confused.
!!: request! fluff. gn!reader. no use of y/n. established relationship. drabble (1k words). English is not my first language.
A/N: thank you @currentblasphemy for requesting this! I hope you like it 🫶🏻
[dc masterlist]
Jason knew he was an attractive guy. He was big and strong and totally your type.
He knew you went crazy every time he came out from the shower. You would be staring shamelessly at his bare chest and he would do anything to stay shirtless as much time as possible for you to enjoy the view.
He also knew you tended to touch his arms every time he wore a short-sleeve shirt, that’s why he did things to flex his biceps without being too obvious.
What he didn't know was that—aside from finding him hot and sexy—you found him cute.
You had mentioned it yesterday while making dinner. You had just put the garlic bread inside of the oven, and Jason was on the stove stirring the pasta, when you suddenly let out a high pitched noise and hugged him from the back with too much force.
“You’re such a cutie!” You had said, while pressing your cheek to his huge back and tightening your embrace on his waist. No more than two seconds later, you had slipped in between the kitchen counter and Jason's body just to squish his cheeks and give him a rough kiss on the lips.
He didn’t know what had gotten into you that night, but from your point of view, Jason looked too fucking adorable. He had been stirring the pan with so much care, his tongue was sticking out of his mouth, and his hair wasn’t fully dry from the shower yet, which made him look like a huge teddy bear, so soft and huggable.
“I love you so much, babe,” you had said after the kiss while hugging his neck with more force than normal, but not enough to choke him. Jason had laughed, because—what else was he supposed to do? You had never acted like this before.
And today, while he was alone at home and you were at work, he couldn’t help but replay in his mind your behaviour from last night.
The force you had hugged him with, or the way you had bit your lip—like you were trying too hard to contain your feelings. It was a side of you he had only seen the day you met Haley for the first time, when Dick came for a surprise visit to his beloved brother.
Trying to stop thinking about last night, he moved towards the bookshelf and picked one of the books he was currently reading, to keep him busy while he waited for you.
When you arrived home you found Jason seated on one of the living room’s beanbags, the ones you had insisted on buying because they were comfy to read in. He was holding the book with one hand while the other was prepared to turn the page. He had a tiny smile of anticipation while his eyes moved quickly across the text.
He was really enjoying the book and he looked so cute like that.
So, instead of announcing your arrival, you dropped your bag on the floor and ran towards your boyfriend. You threw yourself on top of him before giving him time to save the page, holding his face with both your hands and started kissing him all over.
“Hi, baby,” he said, finally snapping out of his trance while you kept kissing him.
“You’re so cute, I could eat you.” You pulled away to look at his shocked face for just a second before going back to kiss him.
“Excuse me?” His hands moved slowly—the total opposite from your quick and never-ending kisses—placing them on your waist after leaving the book on the floor.
Suddenly, you stopped. You had a bright smile on your face, while you looked at your boyfriend with too much joy.
“Hi,” you said.
Jason started laughing, like he did yesterday night, moving one hand to rub his face.
“What has gotten into you?” He asked.
“Nothing, you’re just so adorable and I just want to hug you and kiss you so hard.” You bit his cheek this time.
“Ouch! Should I be concerned?” He rubbed his cheek once you pulled away.
“Not at all,” you said, giving him another kiss, but this time softer and on his lips, quite surprising behaviour after your previous intense affection.
“Really? Because the last time you acted like this was with Haley.”
Jason remembered that time all too well. You walked into the apartment and were instantly greeted by the cutest dog ever, because Dick had decided that Haley needed to be introduced to the family and Jason was the best start. You had started talking with a very high pitched voice while scratching, caressing and hugging the dog. You looked like you were going to explode anytime soon, and it was all from the love that had taken over your body.
“That’s because both of you are the cutest.” You stood up from the beanbag and went to pick up your bag to take it to your room.
Jason stood up too, grabbed his book, bookmarked it properly, and followed you.
“No, explain yourself. Do you think I look like a dog?” Jason asked while entering your shared bedroom.
“That’s not what I said,” you defended yourself while putting the stuff from your bag back into its place.
“You placed both of us into the same category!”
“Because both of you are cute in different ways. Haley is a dog, and dogs are cute. You’re handsome and strong, but so freaking adorable when you don’t realize,” you explained.
“I’m not cute! Have you seen this?” He pointed to himself. He was wearing a regular black shirt that hugged his torso deliciously, and those damn grey sweatpants. To add a point to his argument Jason flexed his arm, showing you his tasty bicep.
You couldn’t hold back the smirk, licking your lips at the sight of your boyfriend’s muscles. “Fine, yes, you are hot, but you can also be adorable.”
“You’re destroying my ego here, baby,” he said, pulling you towards him by your waist.
You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love you, my hot sexy boyfriend.”
He showed a boyish grin “That’s better.”
“And adorable,” you added.
Because yes, Jason was hot, but he was also so adorable it made you feel like you wanted to explode with love—and what better way to show it than with your very aggressive way of showing affection?
The couch dips under Jason's weight, and he's already reaching for you before he's even fully settled. It's unconscious and routine at this point—the way his arm finds the back of the couch behind your shoulders, the way his thick, muscular thigh presses against yours like he's making sure you're still there.
You are. You've been here for an hour, pretending to read, mostly just watching him doze. As if you’d miss out on a chance to dote on him when he’s like this.
His head tips back against the cushion. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly open. The line of his jaw is soft like this, unguarded in a way he'd hate if he caught you looking. His henley has ridden up just enough to expose a strip of skin above his waistline. Not muscle there—well, not all of its muscle at least. There’s something softer. Something that shifts when he breathes.
You close your book. You’ve been on the same line for maybe ten or fifteen minutes now and you don’t even remember to put a bookmark in. Too entranced by how hot your boyfriend looks all comfortable like this.
"Jay."
Nothing.
You poke his side. His eyes crack open, bleary and suspicious as he groggily eyes you.
"Mm… what."
"You're comfortable," you say.
"That's not a crime."
"No." You turn onto your side, facing him fully. Your hand lands on his stomach before you think about it. Palm flat and fingers spread. The fabric is warm from his body heat, and underneath it, there's the sexiest pudge you’ve ever seen on a man. A soft layer that yields to your touch before meeting the solid wall of what he used to be beneath.
Jason looks down at your hand. Then up at you. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing."
"The thing where you look at me like I'm a stray dog you found in an alley."
"A very handsome stray dog."
He snorts. It's not an attractive sound. You love it.
"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, but he doesn't move your hand. Doesn't even pull away. If anything, his stomach rises a little more against your palm as he takes in a a deeper breath, deliberate or not. It’s a soft sigh. One that tells you what his words won’t. He loves being here.
"You have a belly," you tell him.
Jason blinks. "I have—okay. Sure. Thank you for that." He rolls his eyes, throwing a beefy arm over his eyes.
"It's not an insult." You trace a slow circle around his navel through the shirt before reaching out to pull his arm off his eyes. It’s heavy. Big. Just like everything else about him. His abdominal muscles twitch underneath, instinctive, but the softness stays. That's what gets you. The way he's still undeniably him—broad, strong, capable of breaking things without so much as trying—but there's this now. This evidence of rest. Of takeout eaten on weeknights. Of sleeping through alarms. Of a normal life where he’s not running himself into the damn ground every single hour of every single day.
"I like it," you say with that cheeky smile of yours.
"You like—" He stops. Rubs a hand over his face. "It's just weight. I've been eating like garbage and I haven't been running as much. It's not—that's not a thing you like. It's just a thing that is."
You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. He freezes. You kiss his cheek, the hinge of his jaw, the spot just below his ear that makes him shiver every time. Every damn time. A weak spot, if you will.
"Liking it," you murmur against his skin.
Jason exhales. Slow. A little shaky at the end because—sure, he’s used to this—but it still gets him hot. His hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck, not pushing you away, not pulling you closer. He just holds you there, fingers gently brushing the nape. Like he's trying to steady himself.
"You're weird," he says quietly.
"You've mentioned."
"Yeah, well." His thumb continues to brush the baby hairs at your nape. "It bears repeating."
You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is flushed—not from embarrassment, exactly. Something closer to disbelief. Like he's waiting for you to reveal the punchline.
You don't have one. He should know this already.
You push his henley up, just a few inches. His stomach tenses on instinct, but you shush him like you're calming a spooked animal, and he lets you, because fuck it, right? He secretly loves the attention anyway. The skin underneath is pale, a roadmap of old scars, and softer than anywhere else on him. You press your lips to the spot just above his waistband.
Jason makes a sound. Not a word. Just a breath punched out of him. A little bit of a groan maybe. Why must you torture him so?
"You're so warm," you say.
"That's—" He clears his throat because if he doesn’t, his voice will definitely crack in a way he would rather it not. "That's generally how bodies work."
"Yours is special."
"It's really not."
You kiss his stomach again. Then again, an inch to the left. Then right where the softest part gives way to muscle underneath. Jason’s not fat—never has been, never really could be with the way he moves, the way he fights, the way his body remembers things yours doesn't. Like years of brutal training and patrol and other shit he had to do, being Red Hood and all. But there's padding now. A layer of proof that he gets to sit down. That he stays. That he isn't running himself ragged every single night.
Jason's hand tightens on your neck. Just a little bit. He’s careful not to crush it—and he definitely could.
"You're gonna give me a complex," he sighs, peeking at you from the corner of his eyes.
"Good. It'll match the others."
That earns a laugh. It's rough, startled out of him, and his stomach jumps under your lips. You smile against his skin and chuckle.
"I'm serious," you say, propping your chin on his belly so you can look up at him. You’re lying in between his legs and even though the position’s pretty compromising when you’re pressed up against him like that. His eyes are soft. His mouth is doing something unreadable, somewhere between a smirk and something a little more fragile. "I love this. I love you. Every part."
Jason stares at you for a long moment. Then he hauls you up by your armpits like you weigh nothing—because to him, you basically do—and places you against his side, sandwiched between him and the back of the couch, with his arm around your shoulders.
"You're annoying," he says, lips pressing against the top of your head. He breathes in your shampoo like he’s trying to commit it to memory. Old habits from when he wasn’t sure if he’d be coming home. But he’s got you forever now.
"You love it anyway." You give his side a squeeze and he groans, grabbing your hand, then your wrist and forces your arm around his waist instead.
"I guess," he agrees quietly.
His hand then drops yours and finds your hip. His thumb rubs back and forth over the bone. His stomach rises and falls against your ribs, soft and warm and alive, and you press your face into his shoulder so he doesn't see you smile too wide.
He knows. He pretends not to notice anyway.
You stay there until the light shifts and the room goes dark, and neither of you moves to turn on a lamp. Too lazy. Too comfortable. And probably asleep by now.
Clark x kinky girl but he’s scared to hurt her? <3
love this. clark x fem!reader. asks are open. smut. 18+. word count: approx 2k. went a bit overboard <3
clark sat beside on your plush shared mattress after you had told him about your desire to introduce different kinks into the bedroom. his massive shoulders tightly hunched inwards. he stared at you intently, his fingers trembling slightly with hesitation. “i want to”, he whispered softly, “i want to do anything for you, but you have to tell me your exact limits.”
he looked down to his lap, his voice dropping into that heavy, gravelly, tone that he often used to show he’s serious although he wasn’t aware of just how much you liked it. “honey, we need to talk about the mechanics of this…if i lose focus for even just a millisecond i could—“
“oh my god!”, you let out a delighted laugh, following up with an amused clap, “did you just say ‘the mechanics of this’ in the bedroom?”, cutting him off before he could get into a downward spiral. you shift on the mattress and crawl over him, ignoring the way his strong muscles went rigid and tense underneath you or the way he snuck his hands underneath his thighs, as though you’ll shatter the moment he touches you. you poked a firm finger into his indestructible chest, giving him a teasing grin once you look down at him. “clark, baby, look at me. i’m not made of glass, and i’m certainly not that fragile. you’re not gonna break me.”
“you are human”, he murmured back, his deep blue eyes wide and as always admiring you but he stubbornly kept his hands under his. “i am not…”
you cup his cheek gently, thumb rubbing at the soft yet strong skin. “well then it s a good thing you have excellent strength control, smallville”, you teased, leaning until the tip of your nose brushed against his in chest a subtle swan kiss. “now get your hands out from under your butt so we can talk about a safe word, i know that’d make you feel better.”
a tiny helpless huff of a laugh escaped his nose. slowly, with an agonising caution, clark slid his hands from under his thighs. he didn’t touch you immediately, his large palms hovered for a second before resting at your waist. “okay..”, he relented, his broad chest heaving slowly as he took in a deep grounding breathe then exhaled slowly, “okay, what’s the safe word?”
you hum thoughtfully, tilting your head as you took in his expression, “mmm, i was thinking kryptonite but that might give you a heart attack”, clark’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hair, “absolutely not, no rock-based safe words, please.”
“fine, fine”, you chuckled, sliding your hands to lay them on his wide shoulders. his eyes tracking your movements with a slight hyper fixation. “let’s go with pineapple, can’t go wrong with that can you? not like it’s something you’ll say if you’re over thinking a little spanking.”
the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks flushed an endearing shade of pretty pink, “pineapple.” he repeated, testing the random word on his tongue. “right…i-i can remember that. okay..but you have to promise me you’ll use it the moment you need to okay? no hesitation? please??”
you melted a little at his sheer vulnerability and his anxious pleas, “i promise clark, the very second i feel off ill use it”, you murmured, your tone softening into a gentle reassurance that wiped the worry of his face. you leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his warm cheek, “i trust you. completely.”
he swallowed nervously with a firm nod. “okay…okay i trust you too sweetie.”
“good!”, you beamed, your playful attitude returning immediately as you reached over to the nightstand, your fingers wrapping around a smooth delicate silk tie you set aside earlier. you held it up between the both of you with a smug grin, letting it dangle teasingly in front of him. “i was thinking we start by using this?”, you ask.
his eyes widened, the furious blush returning tenfold once his brain caught up with what you were implying, “y-you…you want to tie me up?”
“nope”, you laughed lightly, pressing the soft fabric into one of his massive, hesitant palms. “i want you to tie me up.”
nsfw under the cut.
your wrists were bound above your head, your pretty eyes shut and covered with another silky tie. clark’s thick cock sliding into you with lewd squelches, his tip hits your g-spot every time without fail from its impressive girth and length. being restrained and blindfolded forced your senses to single out any other sensation and focus simply on the smallest touches. giving him full control over when and what you feel. his weight pinning your hips to the mattress, his palms forcing your thighs open. the soft tuft of his happy trail tickling your throbbing clit with each thrust. “fuck! mm- clark! feels so good! ungh!”
his brows furrow in pleasure and concentration, thumb rubbing your clit gently as he reprimands you, “o-oh my god, lan- ah! language sweetie.” although clark is certainly feeling good and he’s focussing on your pleasure too, he remains focussed on your heartbeat, using his super hearing to distinctively listen to the slightest change in rhythm. he uses it to always check up on you and ask you questions, “i can hear your pulse racing honey, don’t lie to me. tell me what your want.” he knows the exact difference between when you’re turned on and when you begin to feel startled or anxious. if it spikes in a way he doesn’t like, he will stop immediately and check up on you. thankfully that hasn’t happened yet because he knows just how to please you.
when you talked to him about spanking, it was veeeery hard to get to clark to follow through. because he can’t feel pain the same way humans do, he is extremely terrified of misjudging force. when he agrees(very hesitantly), he marks your skin with his oceanic eyes, searching for the slightest hint of a flush or bruise. the first time he spanked you, it was very gentle, almost like a little pat. you wiggled your ass at him whilst arching your back enticingly, peering at him over the curve of your shoulder, “cmooon clark, i can take more than that, that was nothing”, he gulps softly, “o-okay, if you’re sure about it…”, before really spanking you. you yelp immediately and your breath hitches. he stopped with a deep gutted fear, “are you okay? did i hurt you? was it too much??”, once you reassured him you were fine and actually liked it, he continued. every time he delivers a strike, he followed it up with the soft rub of his thumb on the curve your ass, asking for a “1-10” scale rating. when he gets even more comfortable with the concept, he praises you with each spank. “my good girl”, “you take it well don’t you? you’re so good for me.”
clark uses his superhuman endurance to completely control your pleasure, keeping you right on the edge of your sweet orgasm until he decides you’re ready. most of the time, it doesn’t really require force from from and instead relies on his unshakable self control. he’d be rutting into you with desperation one second, eager to be up in your guts. then he’d slow down to a stop the next. your wrists pinned down with just one of his hands as the other rubs at your clit. you whine immediately, huffing as your hips desperately try to squirm up, “noo! ngh, clark please! ah, please move”, you beg. clark leans down to press soft gentle kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck and jaw, “not yet, sweet girl..this pace isn’t so bad, feels good doesn’t it?”, he gently squeezes your pinned wrists, reminding you he controls the pace you reach your release.
he’s already extremely mindful of his grip strength when you ask him to pin down your wrists. but his poor heart almost left his soul when you asked him to choke you. he was fucking you just right, slow and deep, keeping your body pinned beneath him. until you called out to him softly, “hey clark?”, he looked to you immediately, scared he’d squeezed your wrists too hard until you smiled brightly, “choke me.”
he may as well have been a statue with how he froze. his jaw literally dropped and his eyes widened and he stared at you like you’d just asked him to throw you into the sun. “what?”, he asked immediately in pure panic.
“choke me”, you repeated casually, giving him an unbothered tilt of your head despite the heavy tension in the room, “just a liiiittle bit. cmon clark it’s hot!”
“absolutely not!”, he blurted out, hands instantly releasing your wrists as he sat up straighter in retreat, “honey, no. do you have any idea how fragile the human trachea is? i-i can literally crush titanium! if my grip slips for less than a second, oh golly i don’t even wanna think abo—“
“oh clark, stop it! it’s fine”, you groaned, rolling your eyes with a breathless giggle. you sit up forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders before pulling him over ontop of you again. “you’re literally just resting your hand on my throat, you’re not gonna hurt me you big worrywart.”
“the thought of putting my hands around your neck…i-it terrifies me sweetheart”, he whispered, his eyes wide with genuine fear and worry. you soften just a fraction, reaching for his hand and wrapping it gently around your throat, your legs crossing around his waist to inch his dick in deeper. “s’okay baby, you’re not gonna hurt me i just know it, cmon..”
bonus: good aftercare
the moment you two reached a blissful orgasm, with you completely satisfied and melting into the sheets, clark moved in quick blurs to ensure you were comfortable afterwards.
before you could even try to blink away the sleep crawling up your spine, the heavy weight of his body vanished and he moved across the bedroom with a hint of his super speed. he was back on the edge of the bed in a fraction of a second. his hair messy, a very light sheen of sweat on his dewy skin.
“here”, he rushed out, his voice a pitch higher than usual as he ushered a glass of water towards your lips.
“its room temperature, i read online that cold water can shock a sensitive human nervous system after an adrenaline drop. drink it please? slow sips, okay?”
you blinked at him, amused but also struggling to keep up with his speed, “clark, babe i’m—“
“and i brought these”, he interrupted frantically. completely ignoring your attempts to calm him down as he gestured to the snacks that were on the bedside table. wait..when did those get there? there were your favourite biscuits, sweeties and small treats. “your blood sugar might be low. i can hear your tummy rumbling sweetie, can’t you hear it? oh- or is that your digestion? do you feel nauseous? if you’re dizzy you should lie flat honey.”
he carefully eyes over your body, mentally noting down anything he’d question. “i just…i need to make sure you’re okay”, he added, gently draping a soft fluffy blanket over you. “is this too heavy? is the material ok? if you don’t like it i can always quickly fly down to linen shop and get you another one?”
mentions: idk what this is and yes the full name, not specified why reader is mad so use ur imagination lol
—————————————————————————
it was quiet in the batcave, besides the occasional hum from the monitors that surrounded the place. and tonight? it was a full house
by full house, i mean the cave is packed with every bat family member. from dick to duke, everyone was present and accounted for. and the reason for their presence? all of them were originally working on different cases before realizing they were all linked in one and that the fate of gotham was at risk— once again
everyone was silent, all of them were razored focus on their tasks— some intensely thinking, others typing in their wrist monitors or focused on the case file in their hands— its as if a pin dropped, it would have been heard and echoed
but instead of a pin dropping, there were footsteps heard from the stairs of the batcave. and anyone could tell that whoever was walking down the stairs was someone who was angry. but the group of vigilantes were so focused on their work, they didn’t turn to pay attention as to who the footsteps belonged to
and angry you were, indeed. “bruce-“ you spoke low from the stairs as you took one step. “—thomas—“ and another. “—wayne” and the last step of the staircase before crossing your arms and glaring at your husband at the computer
the sudden summon of bruce with his full name and your tone needed no explanation. without a second thought, everyone took their weapons and evidence from their cases and started to walk back up the manor. some gave bruce a ‘good-luck’ look, others gave him a confused ‘what-did-you-do-now?’ look, and damian just clicked his tongue with a shake of disappointment from his head, just knowing how fucked his father really was
the moment he heard his full name being called out from your voice, bruce’s 4-hour concentration snapped, his eyes slightly widened at the computer and thoughts immediately circling around as to what the hell did he do to cause you to sound like that, let alone call out his full name?
bruce just cleared his throat and turned to look at you with a calm look that hid the small surge of nervousness he had in his body. villains were one thing, you were another. “yes, sweetheart?”
you just grumble and narrow your eyes at him even more, almost making him flinch. yeah, this man was cooked
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masterlist!
(a/n: thought of this in the middle of the night when i couldn't sleep)
bruce wayne taglist: @planetevermore @calzone-d @anthy-jay-ander @whispers-unspoken @nessasmultiverseoflove @androgynousstrangerbouquet (tags are open)
men who use your height difference to their advantage
your boyfriend notices it in the most casual, unfairly smug way possible. there's quiet little shift in his expression when you’re standing close, talking, completely unaware of the way his gaze dips to your boobs for half a second too long. you’ll be mid-sentence, explaining something, and he’s nodding like he’s listening, but there’s that telltale hint of a smile tugging at his mouth like he’s holding onto a secret.
it’s the perfect view he has from the height difference. he loves it.
especially when you’re wearing something even slightly loose at the neckline. he doesn’t have to try, doesn’t have to lean or adjust, it’s just there, an easy, unfair advantage he pretends not to abuse. he’ll step just a little closer than necessary, hands settling on your hips or your waist, head tilted down like he’s focused on you, and maybe he is… but he’s also enjoying the view like it’s part of the experience.
you catch him sometimes. your eyes narrow, lips pressing together as you follow his gaze and realize exactly what he’s doing. “seriously?” you mutter, swatting at his chest.
he doesn’t even look embarrassed. just grins, slow and easy, like he’s been caught doing something he fully intends to keep doing. “what?” he says, completely innocent. “i’m listenin’.”
“you are not,” you shoot back, but you’re already smiling, already leaning into him despite yourself.
his hands tighten just a little at your waist, pulling you closer like that settles the argument in his favor. “multitasking,” he corrects, voice softer now, a little teasing, a little fond. and the worst part is… he’s not subtle about liking it.
he’ll rest his chin on the top of your head sometimes, arms wrapped around you from behind, and you know he’s looking down. you can feel it in the way he goes still for a second, like he’s savoring something. when you try to pull away, he just hums, tightening his hold.
“stay,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss into your hair like that makes it better.
and when you finally roll your eyes and mutter, “you’re unbelievable,” he just smiles down at you, warm and steady, like he’s already won.
“yeah,” he says quietly, pulling you in a little closer. “but you like me.”
