toji fushiguro grits his teeth in frustration and mild awe. one of his hands rise to grip your nape, pulling you down to his chest as if he needs the leverage. your thighs tremble where they straddle his hips, walls clenching in those slick, fluttering spasms that spell another orgasm. crazy brat.
“that what it feels like? being old?” you jeer. his nostrils flare. he’s lasted longer than most men stay conscious, but you? still bouncing up and down on his dick like your pussy’s hellbent on draining every drop. and it’s working, too. his thighs are numb, balls tight with the threat of release.
close. he knows it. so do you.
“fuckin’—little brat,” toji growls, throat raw. “been tryin’a make me tap out?”
your voice, sugar-sweet and soaked in malice.
“wasn’t trying. almost did.”
that’s when toji snaps. he drives his heels into the mattress and thrusts up with so much force it wrenches a squeal from your throat—then manhandles you onto your back in one brutal sweep. pins both your wrists above your head and starts fucking you in earnest. your body gives out before your pride does. another orgasm rips through you, walls seizing around him so tight it makes his vision go white for a second. toji finishes with a snarl, cock buried to the hilt, stays there. twitching away the residual spasms. catching his breath.
only once he’s sure you’re out cold does he ease back. slow withdrawal. cum drips thick down your thighs. he watches it for a beat, then cracks his neck, wipes the sweat off his brow.
even on the verge of death, toji fushiguro would rather bite off his tongue than admit he almost got out-fucked by his girl.
clark kent x nympho!reader
tags/cw: nympho reader, hypersexual themes, size kink if you squint, office sex, light exhibitionism, gagging, love & lust, mentions of oral & standing doggy, est. relationship, improper use of superpowers, quickies, desperate behavior, superman is better than human men
823 w.c.
nympho!reader hcs
Clark Kent, whose nympho girlfriend is completely insatiable for him. He never expected to end up with a girlfriend who wanted him the way you did constantly, hungrily, as if something in you sparked to life the second he walked into a room.
Maybe it was the trace of Kryptonian biology in his kiss, some alien chemical that slipped past your lips and burned straight into your bloodstream every time his mouth met yours. Maybe it was simply him: the way he said “ma’am” to waitresses, the way he apologized to doors when he accidentally slammed them too hard, the way those broad shoulders carried the weight of the world and still curved protectively around you when you slept. Whatever the cause, the effect was absolute. One look at Clark Kent: glasses, tie slightly crooked, that shy smile, and something feral woke up inside you and refused to go back to sleep.
Mornings began the same way: you rolling over before the alarm, sliding a thigh across his hips, feeling him already half-hard under the sheets. He’d murmur a sleepy “Morning, baby,” voice rough with dreams, and you’d answer by sinking onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, the way his huge hands immediately settled on your waist like he was afraid you’d float away. Soft, lazy, sun-through-the-curtains sex—until it wasn’t soft anymore and you were riding him hard enough that the headboard knocked pictures off the wall.
By midday, you were already texting him, asking if he could fly home for "lunch", a break never long enough to satisfy you, but long enough to chase away that restless longing until evening. He’d appear on the balcony thirty seconds later, tie fluttering, cheeks flushed from supersonic flight. You’d barely let him set his notebook down before you were on your knees, mouthing at him through his slacks, inhaling the faint scent of ink and city air that always clung to him. Lunch break meant you bent over the kitchen counter, skirt rucked up, one of his hands clamped gently over your mouth so the neighbors wouldn’t hear you scream when he finally pushed in.
Some days, you showed up at the Daily Planet yourself, innocent as anything, brown paper bag in hand. “Brought you lunch, baby,” you’d sing, loud enough for Jimmy to hear. Clark’s eyes would flick to you behind his glasses, half warning, half plea, and two minutes later, you’d be locked in the single-stall bathroom on the 8th floor, his tie stuffed in your mouth to muffle the noises while he fucked you against the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. Your vibrator sat forgotten in the bedside drawer at home; nothing on Earth could find the places he reached when he tilted his hips just right. Those stolen minutes behind a locked door or in a quiet corner always left you glowing and him smiling like he knew exactly what you were doing.
At home, you were even worse. You’d find him in his study, glasses slipping down his nose, hair curling over his forehead, legs spread in that careless way that always did things to you, and you’d climb right into his lap like you had every right. He’d look at you over the rims of his glasses with that mix of fondness and exasperation that told you he was two seconds from giving in or losing his place in the article entirely. If he really needed to finish his work, he’d whisper that you’d either have to wait… or take care of yourself. And of course, you chose the latter, just to see his jaw tighten at the sight.
One night, he finally sat you down gently on his lap, hands warm on your thighs, eyes soft in a way that made your chest ache. He asked, with such careful sincerity it almost broke your heart, whether you felt pressured to chase him like this. Whether it felt like a compulsion. You just stared at him before laughing, because he genuinely didn’t realize. You told him you loved sex, especially with him. That you craved him because he made you feel wanted, adored, alive. He nodded slowly, as he understood for the first time, and told you he’d give you whatever you needed, whenever you needed it.
And sometimes, “what you needed” involved Clark using gifts he probably shouldn’t have. The speed he normally used to save lives. The tongue that could do things no human anatomy textbook accounted for. The strength that lets him lift you as if gravity stopped applying. The kind of experiences only he could give you.
Your human exes had never come close. Clark could keep up. Clark could meet you where you burned hottest. Clark could give you exactly what you wanted without ever making you feel greedy or wrong for wanting it. He met it. Matched it. Fed it. And he loved every second of being wanted by you.
divider creds to @gigittamic ! mdni, 18+ smut, morning sex, unsafe sex, nympho!reader, p in v, use of nicknames: baby, dumb girl, minx.
rafe cameron is a man of many strengths. in bed especially. there isn’t one time where the rafe cameron has tapped out during sex. the man has a lot of fucking stamina. hell, he would probably thrive as a marathon runner.
to this day, he still hasn’t been beaten however he’s gotten damn close with you.
rafe comes home from work? boom, you’re clawing at his belt. on a phone call? who cares! you’re shoving his dick down your throat. every morning, every fucking morning; rafe has to deal with your horny ass. it was like a routine to wake up with you desperately grinding on every inch of his skin.
so it’s not much of a surprise when rafe opens his eyes to you buried into his neck, slobbering all over the flesh while your hands roam free. he lets out a groan, sliding a ring clad hand down his face to wipe away all the sleep. “never gonna give me a break, huh?” rafe flips you both over so that you’re now straddling him while he’s laid down comfortably.
“please please please— need it.” you roll your hips needily around his lap, getting as much friction as you can to subdue your throbbing need. rafe holds onto your hips to steady you, sitting up against the headboard. you’re practically eating his face, sucking on his tongue in a way that almost makes his eyes roll back. his head tilts back and you chase his lips, he grunts and pushes you back so he could talk. “you don’t need it, you want it. dumb girl.” he mocks you with his deep sleep-ridden voice, nudging his pants down, “go ahead then, c’mon.”
“no, i don’t want to fuck! i wanna be fucked, rafe! ugh you just don’t get it.” you pout at him, grinding down on him a bit more quicker as the time passes. the man rolls his eyes at you. always wanting so much, he thinks. rafe’s quick to flop you onto your back, hovering over you.
“hey. quit it.” he scowls, leaning close to your face and holding your chin in his hand, “be grateful i’m even helping you out. could’ve left you like this, minx.” the way he speaks to you is so rude. you do need that firm hand though and rafe’s the man to give you that. all your brattiness that was bubbling to the top fades when he pulls his cock out and now your eyes sparkle. rafe bends your knees to your chest, swiping a thumb over the back of your knee. he taps his leaking tip against your drooling cunt and seethes himself to the brim before you can protest more. a moan comes out of both your mouths as you feel him enter.
his head falls down, his hot breath hitting your ear. his pace starts off slow, toned hips rolling deliciously into yours. this is exactly what you needed. the way he fills you up and knows exactly where to hit makes you mewl.
“shh, shh. i know, baby, i know.” rafe coos at you, kissing the tears that run down your cheeks away. he slowly pulls back his cock, your walls latching onto him, before he pushes back in. you throw your head back at the sensation, biting your lip to muffle your whines. his eyes close for a second before he opens them again to admire you. he can’t keep this pace for longer.
“gonna speed up now, okay?” you nod at him and he takes the signal to start building his speed. soon enough, you’re back to the treatment that you’re used to. his pelvis slamming down into yours while he pants into your ear. his poor back is bright red with scratches. his dick is prodding at your sweet spot over and over again. the sensation has you seeing stars. you’re so dizzy now, braindead on his dick while he pounds you into the mattress. you don’t even notice his phone buzzing on the night stand but rafe does. he ignores it the first few times but then he gets annoyed. “fuck, hold on for me for just one second, yeah?” you look up at him with pleading eyes that show you’re gonna whine over him stopping so rafe clamps a hand around your mouth while he looks at who was blowing up his phone.
the clock is what catches his eye first.
shit, he’s late and he had a very important early morning meeting. rafe throws his phone to god knows where and continues. he’s already behind the clock so he might as well finish. “c’mon, baby, c’mon gotta make this— fuck. gotta make this quick.” rafe rambles on, fingers flicking your nipples to stimulate you more while his cock rams into you continuously. “paint my cock, c’mon.” he pants out, feeling his dick twitch inside you.
you let go with a loud moan, closing your eyes as your whole body shudders. rafe follows soon behind, filling you up with his warm release. he thrusts his cum deeper inside you before pulling out and watching it drip out of your cunt. you’re all dopey now, looking all fucked out just how he likes it.
and that business opportunity is long gone by the time he’s out the door.
the birds are chirping. the morning sun beaming onto your face softly. your comfy weighted blanket protecting you from the chill air. so peaceful. a new day—
and another morning to get fucked.
you’re ready to stretch your arms out to latch onto your boyfriend again but they’re not moving. something’s weird. you open your eyes with a very confused pout, noticing a harness that goes around your neck and keeps your wrists tightly against your back.
rafe looks back at you, slouched over the dresser while he’s shirtless with nothing but his dress pants on. “oh you up, baby?” he puts on his polo quickly, greeting you with a knowing smirk. you squirm around, whining over the lack of ability to be able touch him. you’re growing frustrated now, “rafe!” you yell out to him which only fuels his amusement over your struggling.
“ah, that? can’t be late again. had to do it.” rafe shrugs, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything before leaning in to kiss your cheek. the cocky expression that’s always on his face becoming even more annoying to you. “alright, gotta go to work. behave.” and with that he leaves you there all tied up in your lonesome. very horny.
ok but robby with a controversially young, hypersexual girlfriend... imagine that she is super shy on the outside and when they finally start "dating", robby just takes her out on dates, planning to take things slow (because he still feels a little guilty) and because she is so shy and sweet! and she is having a hard time, cause, frankly, she can't take it anymore... she fucks herself for hours after each date (she even considers recording herself and sending it to him because maybe that would be easier than asking for what she wants in person from that intimidating, older, and experienced man), until she finally works up the courage to ask him to take her back to his place after one of their dates, and he can't believe the little demon he has on his hands, she lets her mouth run, about how much she needed it, how on edge he had her, and she is just so insatiable, asking for what she wants and begging for more all night long...
Yes. YES. STATE YOUR TRUTH!!! YES YOU GEEEET IT!!!
He’s trying so hard to be a gentleman but YOU aren’t letting him. You drag him to his place and make sure he fucks you SO FUCKING HARD that your libido is basically gone by the end of the night. Rest assured, you WILL wake him up by riding him hehehehe🤭🤭🤭
first, it was climbing into his lap while he skimmed the hit file on his laptop: guard rotation, timestamp marked down to the precise second. you weren’t exactly being subtle, either: pelvis tilting, you humped his thigh, chasing friction along the firm ridge of muscle. you could feel your arousal seeping through your panties and you wanted him to feel it too. his dick, semi-hard beneath dark cotton, stayed tantalisingly within view at the corner of your eye. toji clicked his tongue and bounced his leg once, a silent reprimand.
a few hours later, toji was standing near the door, phone balanced between his shoulder and jaw. as he was discussing points of entry in that baritone, impassive yet infuriatingly sexy drawl of his, you were back at it again. arms hooked around his thigh and started grinding on the arch of his foot, while he ignored your hopeful gaze entirely. unfazed, you reached down to untie the knot in his sweatpants, fumbling with the fabric.
“target’s tagged. extraction’s clean if we don’t—”
the drawstring came loose. bingo. your prize was so close… but before you could do more than graze your palm along the waistband, his free hand dropped to the crown of your head, palm splayed wide, trying to guide you off without looking down.
“—nah, never mind. background chatter,” toji muttered into the phone, tone soured. “i’ll handle it.” he hung up a moment later, and when his gaze finally met yours, it was stony and irritable. underneath his sweatpants, his cock hung half-hard against his thigh—proximity alone had dragged him halfway there.
“you need to cool it,” he warned. you were panting into the floor. aching, slick soaking the crotch of your panties. your answer came as another lazy grind, cunt clenching around nothing.
by evening, he decided he’d had enough of your antics.
you were straddling him again—feverish, panties soaked transparent. that hormonal, molten need throbbing in your pelvis like it had a heartbeat of its own.
“you’re worse than usual,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “what—your pussy got a death wish or something?”
“m’ ovulating,” you sniffled. “need you so bad i can’t think straight. hurts.” and it did. your body was starving for him. aching in that particular way only he could remedy.
toji stared at you for one long second. rolled his neck—vertebrae popping under the stretch—then turned his head toward the far wall, eyes narrowed as if he was weighing the pros and cons of fucking his ovulating, sex fiend of a girlfriend stupid right then and there.
he pinched the bridge of his nose. sighed.
then stood.
grabbed you by the waist. bent you over the table like it was the only conclusion that ever made sense. your thighs clenched on instinct, trembling with anticipation. panties were soaked see-through from hours of teasing contact that never delivered what you needed. the edge of the table bit into your knees as toji hauled your hips back, yanked the fabric aside unverifiable. he spat into his hand, wrapped it around the base of his hardened cock, gave it a few short, punishing strokes, then he drove into you in a singular, vicious thrust.
your hands flew to the table’s edge, scrabbling for purchase as the legs skidded forward across the floor with an ear-splitting scrape. your breasts flattened to the surface, the friction harsh, but nothing compared to the stretch tearing through your cunt. you keened, partly from the shock of the stretch, but mostly from raw, unfiltered relief of finally, finally being filled.
he froze inside you. cock buried to the hilt.
“you alright?”
the words were rough and clipped. but laced with something that almost sounded like concern. you nodded weakly, sweat-damp forehead pressed to the wood.
“m’fine. need it—please?” you tried to show him, spine arching into a feline curve, hips rolling in languid figure eights. he was so thick your body clenched around him involuntarily, greedily, swallowing him deeper as if eager to prove it could take more. the wet schlick schlick noise that accompanied by your movements ricocheted off the walls, lewd and rhythmic, underscored by the broken moans caught between your teeth.
he muttered something dark under his breath and reared his hips back again, before slamming himself to the hilt. his heavy balls slapped against your cunt, a heat-flush crack of contact. toji fucked you like a release valve. pent-up aggression funneled into rhythm, cock hammering up into your body.
“hghm,” you choked on a gasp, the words tumbling out between sharp, broken moans as your cunt spasmed around him. “fuck—ohmygod- keep going don’t stop”
he pulled out so suddenly your body pitched forward, empty and confused. a displeased whimper sounded from your lips—until he grabbed you by the nape and hauled you upright. in one breathless pivot, he turned you to face him, his hand stayed curled around the back of your neck, fingers spread like a collar, steadying you as he speared back in with the same brute force that had you seeing stars.
“that’s better,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours. “wanna see that pretty face.”
then he started fucking you in earnest. full weight behind each thrust, his breathing never faltering while yours broke apart in fragments. pleasure broke you open in white-hot flashes, your orgasm hitting like a seizure, walls clamping down so tightly he hissed through his teeth. slick gushed around the base of him, forming a ring of milky come.
he stayed buried inside as you pulsed around him, velvety walls gripping him so tightly that, in your delirious haze, you were half-convinced he’d stay inside forever. that your body might refuse to let him go. eventually he pulled out, cock hanging flaccid and gleaming against his thigh.
“you done with the begging?”
you licked your lips.
“for now,” you rasped. “check back in five.”
he scoffed, but not before bending down to gather you up in both arms, bridal style. your combined spend leaked from between your thighs, dripping to the hardwood floor.
“hell of a fuckin’ distraction,” he muttered, as he carried you towards the shower.
Free Use!Clark who never says no to his girlfriend, no matter when or where she needs him. He’s always ready, always gentle, and always completely obsessed with how much she wants him.
Nympho!Reader who is utterly addicted to Clark Kent — his voice, his hands, his dick, the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world. You can’t go more than a few hours without touching him, and he loves it.
700+ words of: free use kink, implied consent (cnc?), nympho reader, hcs, implied anal, cockwarming, face riding, exhibitionism, somnophilia, pwop, theyre freaky
ck x nympho!reader fic here
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Free Use!Clark who wakes up every morning to you already grinding on his thigh or sucking him under the sheets. He just groans softly, puts his hands on your hips, and lets you use his body however you need while he’s still half-asleep, voice raspy as he murmurs, “Good morning, sweetheart… take what you want.”
Nympho!Reader who gets wet the second Clark walks through the door after patrol. You’ll meet him in the hallway, drop to your knees, and pull his suit down just enough to get him in your mouth, moaning around him like you’ve been starving for hours.
Free Use!Clark who is more than happy to let you ride his face while he’s trying to read the newspaper. He’ll just set the paper aside, lie back on the couch, and hold your hips down so you can grind against his tongue until you’re shaking and soaking his chin.
Nympho!Reader who sends him filthy texts while he’s at work. Pictures of your fingers buried inside yourself with the caption “hurry home, I need you.” Clark has to excuse himself to the bathroom more than once because of how hard you make him.
Free Use!Clark who will fuck you bent over the kitchen counter while you’re trying to make dinner. You’ll be stirring sauce and suddenly his big hands are on your hips, sliding your panties to the side and pushing into you slow and deep while he kisses your neck and whispers, “Don’t stop cooking, baby. I’ve got you.”
Nympho!Reader who loves waking him up in the middle of the night by sinking down on his dick. Clark just moans sleepily, hands finding your waist as you ride him in the dark, his voice low and wrecked: “Couldn’t wait till morning, huh?”
Free Use!Clark who lets you crawl into his lap during movie night and cockwarm him the entire film. He’ll wrap his arms around you, chin on your shoulder, occasionally thrusting up when he knows you’re getting impatient, murmuring praise in your ear the whole time.
Nympho!Reader who gets off on the fact that Clark is Superman. You beg him to keep the cape on sometimes while he fucks you, clinging to the red fabric as he fucks you against the wall, super strength keeping you pinned exactly where he wants you.
Free Use!Clark who has bent you over his desk in the barn, in the back of his truck, in the shower, on the stairs, and once — very carefully — in the sky. He indulges every single craving you have without hesitation.
Nympho!Reader who gets dripping wet when Clark does mundane things — chopping wood shirtless, fixing the fence, wearing those gray sweatpants. You’ll walk up behind him, press yourself against his back, and beg him to take you right there in the yard.
Free Use!Clark who never makes you feel embarrassed for how much you need him. If you crawl into his lap during dinner and start grinding on him, he just pushes his plate aside, lifts you onto the table, and eats you out until you’re crying his name.
Nympho!Reader who loves being passed out from exhaustion only to wake up to Clark gently fucking you again because you whispered his name in your sleep and started rubbing against him.
Free Use!Clark who will pick you up, wrap your legs around his waist, and fuck you slow and deep while walking through the house like it’s nothing. He’ll carry you from the living room to the bedroom without ever pulling out, kissing you the whole way.
Nympho!Reader who keeps a butt plug in sometimes just so Clark can pull it out and replace it with his dick whenever he wants — though he usually ends up indulging you instead because you’re so desperate for him.
Free Use!Clark who finds you in the laundry room folding clothes and immediately bends you over the vibrating washing machine. He slides into you from behind while the spin cycle rattles hard against your chest, the intense shaking pressing right against your sensitive nipples as he fucks you deep and steady.
Nympho!Reader who can’t even pretend to focus on the laundry once Clark starts thrusting — moaning loudly as the machine’s vibrations buzz against your tits while his thick length stretches you open, coming harder because of the relentless shaking on your nipples.
Free Use!Clark who looks at his obsessed, insatiable girlfriend with nothing but pure love and lust in his eyes, because nothing makes him happier than knowing you need him this badly.
Nympho!Reader who is completely ruined for anyone else — and Clark wouldn’t have it any other way.
clark kent x nympho!girlfriend who is OBSESSED with him, but feels insecure about her tendencies :((
Clark would be absolutely obsessed right back. He’d be the first one to notice something’s off, the way you suddenly hesitate, pull back, or quiet yourself. And he’d get that soft, concerned look like, “Sweetheart… talk to me.”
When you finally admit you feel insecure about how much you want him, Clark would just stare at you for a second as if you told him the sky isn’t blue. Absolutely baffled. “Insecure? About wanting me?”
And then he’d melt. Because Clark is the most emotionally attentive man alive, he’d step in close, cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek as he reassures you that your desire isn’t something he tolerates. It’s something he treasures. Something he shares.
He’d remind you gently that loving someone openly doesn’t make you “too much,” and that nothing you ask of him is ever taking; it’s always something you're giving to each other.
And he’d probably laugh softly, shake his head, kiss your forehead, and say, “Honey… you could never want me more than I want you." Soft, steady, no judgment, just Clark grounding you with affection until the insecurity has no room left to breathe.
Nympho!reader is what Robby deserves 🥹 I love the idea of her being a resident and her nympho antics stressing him out. Like he gets palpitations and starts sweating buckets whenever he sees her walking towards his direction in the middle of the pitt because he thinks there’s a very likely chance she would just get on her knees and start sucking his dick in the middle of trauma bay. Or when he’s sat in front of the computer there have been occasions where she’s tried to straddle him and dry hump him until they both cum in their pants. A battalion could not drag her off his dick and he knows it, it both turns him on and leaves him on the verge of a heart attack every time they’re scheduled to work the same shift. Like as if the man doesn’t have enough stress being the attending of a chaotic ER, he now has to deal with his controversially younger hypersexual girlfriend trying to hump, suck and fuck him for all to see 🤤
I’m shaking like CRAZYYYYYYYYYYY This is so fucking insane holy fuck AAAAAAAAAAA
No cause he is so fucking nervous your libido might sky rockets and you’d literally pull his pants down and fuck him in his rolling chair for all to see. He LOVES it yet he is so scared he or worse YOU get shit from Gloria so he tries not to do anything that might make you horny
But he doesn’t know that EVERY SINGLE THING he does makes you so horny that you might need IMMEDIATE relief😵💫😵💫😵💫
