Summary: Fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time. (3.3k)
Tags/warnings: smut (mdni), threesome, mentions of alcohol, before you ask, yeah, they kiss, use of pet names, hair pulling, fingering, we're going to paris with this one, oral m!receiving and f!receiving, unprotected p in v, cum play/eating, tiny bit of degradation, overstimulation
A/N: I don't know how to feel about this. English is not my first language and this was not proofread. Enjoy!
masterlist
The heat is curling around your bodies like a humid weighted blanket and the only sources of lighting are the warm streetlights casting shadows inside the safe house from the nearby street.
All three of you are sitting on the floor, talking about everything and nothing while drinking the beers you had brought with you as an apology for showing up unannounced.
Your relationship with Jason and Roy is hazy at best. The most logical description would be coworkers — doesn't matter whether said job is a conventional one or not. But that word doesn't seem nearly enough to contain all of the times you patched them up as they wordlessly looked at you with a strange look on their faces, or the drunken kisses you shared, separately and always forgotten by the next morning.
The conversation reaches its natural end, and neither of you are in a rush to fill the silence with some useless small talk. The night is not a silent one anyway. Cars keep driving by, mixing the sound of tires on wet asphalt and muffled music with the usual sirens that are never really quiet in a city like Gotham.
You lean back, further pressing your back against the couch, and tilt your head back, staring at the moisture stain on the white ceiling. Your hands are still busy trying to peel off the label on the dewy bottle, and you're thankful for the distraction.
Despite remaining silent, your mind is anything but. You will later try to blame it on the alcohol, or the tiredness, or maybe even the stress, but the next words come out of your mouth before your mind has time to process them.
"Have you guys ever... You know..."
The sentence is accompanied by a vague hand gesture which you yourself don't really know what is supposed to mean.
You can feel two pairs of eyes setting on your form as soon as you open your mouth, and the tickling sensation that follows is certainly not something to dwell on later.
"No, I don't, actually," Roy says, and you can hear the smirk on his face in his voice, a sound that has become so familiar without you even realizing.
A groan escapes your lips as you lift your head. When you meet their eyes you immediately regret your decision, wishing you had kept avoiding eye contact.
"I mean, have you ever- umm. How can I say this properly?" you ask yourself, mostly. "Have you ever blown off some steam? Physically. With each other."
The silence that follows makes you wish the earth would just swallow you whole, but the words that are spoken next are no better.
"You're asking if we ever fucked?"
Jason doesn't seem particularly shaken by your question as he replies. In fact, there's a hint of amusement in his tone, which you're sure is also shared by Roy.
"...Did you?" you murmur, unsure where the conversation might lead to.
"Yeah, like, a couple of times," Roy replies nonchalantly, scratching the back of his neck in a way that makes his bicep look edible.
Your eyes move back to your hands, unsure on what to do with that information, or the fact that they were so willing to give it to you.
"What? Are you jealous, princess?"
The pet name Jason had been using ever since that night when you met the pair makes your body feel even warmer than the humid summer heat surrounding you. Despite that, you force yourself to form a reply.
"What?" you retort, meaning to sound indignant, but landing on a sputtering mess instead. "I- What? No, I'm not... Just curious, that's all."
The lie is thick, almost choking you, and the shared look between the two men only makes it worse.
Why did you open your mouth in the first place? What were you trying to accomplish anyway?
"Aww," the redhead coos, "look at our girl. Flustered and all."
They had never referred to you as that — as theirs — or at least, they had never done it in front of you, but the heat pooling in your lower belly is certainly not unpleasant.
"Do you need that?"
"Uh?"
At the sight of your pretty face plastered with confusion and embarrassment, Jason adds, "To blow off some steam. Do you need that?"
Your eyes move from one man to the other, and they can read in your gaze that you're considering it, despite everything in you mind screaming at you that this is not a good idea.
"Come on, doll. Don't go all shy on us now," Roy teases you. "We can make you feel real good, right Jay?"
The other man simply hums, but you suspect that his confidence is just a facade, and he's just as nervous as you are.
There are two roads in front of you now: you can either decline or accept their offer. You know that whatever your decision might be, they would never hold it against you. The only problem is, you want to accept —really, really bad — and you shouldn't, because there would be consequences.
As you keep pondering your options, their eyes never move from you. That's how they immediately realize you've made up your mind.
"We're gonna need to hear you say it first, sweetheart," Jason says, trying to hide his own nervousness.
A moment goes by.
"I want to blow off some steam. With you."
Roy's mouth curls into a satisfied grin as he motions for you to get closer. You set aside the empty bottle and crawl in his direction. Once you're sitting in front of him, he pats his thighs, silently asking you to sit on his lap.
You comply, and the feeling of his toned legs underneath you makes heat rise up to your face. While one of his hands remains planted behind him to support his weight, the other tentatively reaches your face and cups your jaw.
Your eyes fall to his lips and he gets the message, pulling your closer and kissing you. At first the movements are unsure and the rhythm isn't smooth, but quickly you fall into a dance you had rehearsed long ago, despite pretending it had never happened the following morning.
Both of you are so lost in it that you don't hear Jason coming up behind you. You only realize as he moves your hair out of the way to gently kiss your neck. They're just small pecks at first, but once he eases into it, they become open mouthed kisses alternated with some bites, quickly soothed by his tongue.
Roy's hand moves from your face to your waist, before sliding down to your ass and squeezing. The sensation makes you let out a sigh, and he takes advantage of it by sliding his tongue inside your mouth.
As the kiss turns messy and hungry, Jason begins groping your tits, gently moving his fingers over your clothed nipples. The feeling of the two men's touches makes you clench your thighs.
It only gets worse once you break the kiss to catch your breath, and Roy and Jason start making out with you still sitting on the redhead's lap. The sight is obscene in the best way possible, making you move your hands from where they had been previously resting on Roy's shoulder. You place one hand on each of the two men's heads and begin to guide the kiss, feeling your own wetness begin to drench your underwear.
Jason's hands in the meantime move to the waistband of your pants, making you shiver at the sensation of him playing with it, before sliding one hand past it. A moan escapes your parted lips at the feeling of his rough digits feeling your needy cunt over the wet panties.
He smiles into the kiss, and without breaking it completely he pants against Roy's lips, "Shit, you should feel how wet she is right now."
The redhead smirks after biting Jason's lower lip, and, while sneaking a glance in your direction, teases, "Oh, yeah? Does it turn you to see us make out, pretty girl?"
Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out after Jason pushes your panties to the side and gathers some of your wetness to bring it to your clit.
The neediness in the sounds you start making as he begins to play with the bundle of nerves should embarrass you, but the sensation is too good for you to care.
Your hold on their hair tightens when Jason slips two fingers inside you, but the whine you were about to let out gets swallowed by Roy's mouth as he starts to kiss you again.
Jason's motions are careful at first, trying to get your cunt to ease around his fingers, but once you get used to it, the slow movement aren't enough anymore.
"Please Jay," you whine, breaking the kiss with Roy just to look at the other man with glassy eyes and pouty lips.
"Does our girl need more, uh? You're such a needy girl, aren't you sweetheart?" Roy says, sounding so condescending you might have punched him in the face if Jason's fingers didn't feel so good inside you.
"P-Please," you sigh, trying to move your hips to meet Jason's movements.
"Don't worry, princess. Jaybird is going to take real good care of you."
As if on cue, Jason's fingers start moving faster, and his other hand begins to massage your puffy clit. In the meantime, Roy starts kissing your neck and leaving marks you're going to have an hard time justifying tomorrow, but all you can focus on right now is how good your boys are making you feel.
The coil in your lower belly tightens, and the sound of your moans mixed with the squelching noise of Jason fingering you fills the otherwise silent safe house.
"Oh, fuck- I'm close," you whine, gripping your boys' hair even harder as you close your eyes, basking in the pleasure of the moment.
Your orgasm washes over you, and for a moment everything else seems to disappear. You tired body slumps onto Roy's as Jason carefully slides his fingers out of your cunt.
They're covered in your arousal, glistening even in the poorly lit room, but before you can process anything, Jason moves his hand near Roy's mouth. Without being told anything, he parts his lips and starts licking Jason's fingers clean.
"Fuck, you taste so good sweetheart," Roy basically moans, moving his free hand to grip the other man's wrist, vigorously sucking and licking his digits.
The sight alone turns you on even more — if that's even possible — and both of them can definitely tell by the size of your pupils.
"C'mere, doll. Taste yourself," Roy murmurs before burying a hand in your hair and crashing your lips together.
The taste of your juices on his tongue is inebriating, so much so that the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Jason's hands on your body, trying to pull down your underwear and your pants in a single motion.
Roy angles your body to help the other man, and momentarily breaks the kiss to take off your shirt as well, leaving you completely bare in front of the two still fully clothed men.
"Your turn, now," you tease them with a hungry glint in your eyes.
They comply with your request, quickly getting rid of their own clothes, throwing them on the floor without a care in the world, solely focused on what they're going to do to you next.
Jason takes your hand gently, and walks to the couch, making sure you follow behind him. It only takes a few steps for you to feel Roy's hand land on your ass with a loud smack, and when you turn your head to glare at him, he simply smirks and walks past you, settling in the couch.
His legs are spread wide enough for you to settle between them. Behind you, you can feel the warmth of Jason's body, as he places on hand on you shoulder and applies some gentle pressure, making you kneel.
The rug makes the landing easier on your knees, but even if it weren't the case, the discomfort would have been worth it considering how close your face is to Roy's cock.
The tip is already red and leaking with precum — the pretty moans you were making earlier were enough to turn him on. Unable to wait any longer you wrap your hand around the hilt and begin to pamper the throbbing tip with some kitten licks.
The reaction is immediate: Roy moans obscenely, throwing back his head, and reaching for your scalp, resting his hand there.
As you continue with your ministration, Jason's big hands settle on your hips, aligning them with his own aching cock. After gathering some of your wetness with his tip, he slowly buries himself inside your tight cunt.
While Jason's thrusts get faster, you finally wrap your lips around Roy's dick, careful not to use your teeth. Your hand keeps moving at the base, covering what you can't reach with your mouth.
The vibrations of the moans Jason is getting out of you only make the experience better for the redhead, who has started to guide your movements with the hand tangled in your hair.
"That's it," he groans, "sucking me so good while getting fucked like a slut."
Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as your walls flutter around Jason's cock, buried deep inside you.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck."
Behind you, the grip on your hips tightens enough to leave behind some bruises, and before you know it, thick ropes of cum flood your cunt.
You stop sucking Roy's dick to turn around and glance at Jason. He's a mess, face stained with some tears you didn't know he had shed, still trembling from his orgasm.
"M'sorry," he mumbles, hiding his face between your shoulder blades and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. "I've been dreaming about this moment for so long, and you just felt so good, and I-"
Before he can keep apologizing, you reach for his face and give him a reassuring kiss, gently caressing his cheek.
"It's alright. No need to apologize."
Roy, who had observed the entire scene with an unreadable look on his face, drags you onto his lap, making you feel the outline of his hard cock without penetrating you yet. He presses his chest to your back, mixing the sheen of sweat covering his skin with your own. His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, brushing the shell of your ear with his lips.
"You've been so good with your mouth, baby," he says, making a shiver run down your spine. "Wanna show our one pump chump whatcha can do?"
The whole time, despite talking to you, he had been making eye contact with Jason, and you swear you saw the man's dick twitch in response to the redhead's mocking words.
"Yes, please," you plead, your mouth already watering at the idea of feeling the weight of Jason's cock on your tongue.
Without any warning, Roy uses his grip on your hair to push your head down, while he, after giving his own dick a few pumps, aligns himself to your entrance, still leaking with Jason's warm release.
You don't have much time to adjust to the new intrusion before Roy starts giving you instructions on how to blow Jason off.
"Now, start by kissing his tip. Yeah, just like that. And use your hands for the base. Slowly. Don't want him cumming too fast like a virgin. Not again."
You do as told, relishing the sweet sounds coming out of Jason's mouth. While doing so, Roy's grip on your hair never loosens. Instead he keeps guiding you.
Meanwhile, you start moving your hips as well, desperately trying to create some friction. Roy understands immediately what you want, and moves his hips as well, trying you meet you halfway.
"Now open up and start sucking. Just like you did with me, pretty girl."
The redhead's hand guides your movements, and that mixed with how his thrusts make you body rock forward, makes you gag around Jason's cock a few times.
The warm cum that had previously filled your pussy leaks on Roy's dick, turning his base milky white.
"Use your free hand to play with his balls. He loved that last time I did it."
You decide to ignore the implications of his words and simply start palming Jason's heavy balls, careful not to do it too roughly.
"Good girl," the redhead groans approvingly.
Roy wasn't lying, and the whimper that Jason lets out proves as much. Your own gets muffled by his cock, as you keep sucking, not bothering with the tears that start running down your cheeks and the saliva wetting your chin.
The redhead's thrusts never slow down, not even as Jason cums a second time. You keep sucking, gathering every drop of his release in your mouth. Without missing a beat, Roy pulls your face closer to his and parts his lips.
He whorishly moans as you let Jason's cum drip from your parted lips to his open mouth, before pulling him in for a messy kiss, continuing to share the warm liquid.
This seems to be enough for Roy to bury himself deep inside you and reach his orgasm as well, shortly followed by your own.
You stay like that for a moment, with Roy still inside you and Jason standing in front of you, still coming down from the high of his two previous orgasms.
Carefully, Roy slides out of you, and you can feel his cum leaking out of your stretched out hole.
What you expect to happen next is for them to bring you a wet cloth and clean you, maybe cuddle a little, before going to sleep and waking up the next day pretending that nothing ever happened.
What you don't expect is for Jason to drop on his knees, place his hands on your thighs and begin to lick your puffy clit.
"Hey, get off of her! I wanted to do that!"
Jason moves his face just enough to reply, looking like the cat who got the cream.
"Looks like I got here first," he comments, before resuming his ministration.
Roy quickly moves from underneath you, and tries to push Jason away from his place between your legs, desperately lapping at your leaking cunt, completely unbothered by his own cum.
A dance of tongues takes place, as both of them fight for dominance while eating you out. Your legs begin to tremble, and the sensation of their mouths on you is too much too bear.
"'s too much," you babble, your brain turning into complete mush, but they won't have it.
"Just another one." "Yeah, can you do that princess?"
Your head hits the back of the couch, and your third orgasms crashes over you like waves crashing against rocks, making your vision turn black for a few seconds.
Your chest moves up and down along with your heavy breathing, making you momentarily forget about the situation at hand.
You're brought back to reality as they both settled on the couch next to you, enveloping you between their warm bodies. The apartment turns quiet again, and the sound of the city start reclaiming your attention.
That's until Roy decides to tease you one last time.
"Did that help you blow off some steam?"
A/N: This was the fic! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, even if it's criticism (as long as it's constructive). I love talking with you angels, so my dms and inbox are always open!
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Note what is going with me, writing about men whimpering? It's something I love and I am really not sorry. Anyways, like I've been saying, fluff is more my thing and smut is kinda like, something I do very awkward and sloppy(hehe) but yeah, this is just Clark being a clingy man and yeah, it's porn with just a tiny bit of plot.
The ceiling of your shared apartment had never seemed so vast, so oppressively white. Clark Kent lay on his back, one arm flung over his forehead, the other hand absently worrying a thread on the comforter. The silence was a living thing, thick and suffocating, broken only by the distant wail of a siren three boroughs over—a sound he could easily parse, catalog as non-life-threatening, and then ignore.
Four days.
You had been gone for four days. A business trip to Chicago, something about a mountain of paperwork you’d promised to handle personally even when you shouldn’t but that means some extra money. Clark still thinks your coworkers are idiots. He made love to you that morning, made you a tea the way you love because you despise the ones at the airport and then kissed you goodbye at the door, a soft, lingering press of lips that had tasted like morning coffee and your spearmint toothpaste. He still hates the fact that your best friend picked you up, he wanted to be the one to do it but he had some things to do at the Daily Planet.
He’d told you to have fun, to be safe and show your coworkers how the job has to be done and that he’d be right here when you got back. He was a liar. He wasn’t just here. He was disintegrating.
It was pathetic. He knew it was pathetic. He was Clark Kent. He was Kal-El. He could hear a heartbeat on the other side of the planet, could bench-press a tectonic plate, had stared down Darkseid without flinching. And yet, the absence of one person—you—had reduced him to a restless, irritable, lovesick mess.
The first day had been fine. Productive, even. He’d filed twelve stories, reorganized the pantry alphabetically (your idea of a joke he’d taken too seriously), and done three loads of laundry. The second day, the edges started to fray. He found himself staring at your empty side of the bed, the pillow still faintly holding the ghost-shape of your head. By the third day, he was a menace. He’d snapped at Jimmy for chewing too loudly (he could hear the saliva, Jimmy, for God’s sake) and had to physically restrain himself from flying to Chicago just to catch your scent on the wind.
He didn’t want to be a burden. That was the crux of it, the splinter lodged deep under his skin. You were brilliant, ambitious, carving out a space for yourself in a world that didn’t make it easy. You needed this trip. You didn’t need your boyfriend materializing in your hotel room like a kicked golden retriever, whining about how much he missed you.
So he stayed. He patrolled. He threw himself into the grimy, relentless work of being Superman, hoping the physical exertion would bleed out the restless energy coiling in his gut. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. The adrenaline, the narrow misses, the flash of heat from a downed power line—it all just fed the low, constant thrum of want that had taken up residence in his bones.
Tonight had been a special kind of hell. A warehouse fire in the industrial district, a gang shootout in Central City, and a cat stuck in a tree in Queens (the cat had been grateful, at least). He’d come home just after two in the morning, floating silently through the window of your fourth-floor walk-up so he wouldn’t have to fumble with the lock.
The apartment was dark. Cold. A tomb.
He landed softly on the living room rug, the worn fibers whispering under his bare feet. He’d been in the suit for eighteen hours. The Kryptonian fabric was immaculate, as always, but underneath, he felt grimy. Not with dirt—with absence.
His jaw was tight as he peeled the cape from his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. He’d pick it up later. Maybe. The boots were kicked off next, landing with two dull thuds that seemed too loud in the quiet. Then the tunic, the sigil of the House of El catching the faint streetlight for a moment before he tossed it onto the armchair.
He stood in the middle of the living room in just the blue undersuit, his chest heaving. He didn’t want to go to bed. Your side of it would be empty, the sheets cold. He’d just lie there, wired and aching, listening to the world turn and hating every second of it.
Irritation clawed up his throat. It wasn’t even anger—not at you, never at you—but a furious, impotent frustration at himself. At his own ridiculous, overwhelming need. He was Superman. He shouldn’t be this… this clingy.
His fingers found the seal of the undersuit, peeling it down his torso. The cool air hit his skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature. He shucked the rest of it off along with his boxers, letting it fall in a heap, and now he was completely, utterly naked in the middle of his living room, the moonlight painting silver lines across the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, the thick, heavy shape of his cock already half-hard and pressing against his thigh.
He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, messing up the careful wave he’d sported for the press earlier. He was so pent up it was almost painful. A dull, throbbing ache that started in his groin and radiated outward, settling in his clenched fists and his grinding teeth.
His gaze drifted, almost against his will, towards the bedroom. To the open door. To the laundry basket overflowing with the last of the things he’d been too lazy to fold.
And there, draped over the edge, was a flash of pale grey.
Your tank top. The one you’d worn the morning you left. You’d changed right before heading to the airport, tossing it into the basket with a casual flick of your wrist. He remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered how the thin fabric had clung to the curves of your breasts, the slight sheen of sweat on your collarbone from rushing to pack. He remembered how you’d smelled when you’d kissed him goodbye. Vanilla. Something floral. And underneath, something that was just… you. Warm, alive, human.
A low sound, something between a groan and a growl, rumbled in his chest. He told himself to stop. To go take a cold shower. To do literally anything else but his feet carried him to the basket anyway.
He reached down, his fingers brushing the cotton. It was soft. Worn. He lifted it, and a fresh wave of your scent hit him like a physical blow. It was fading—four days of absence had diluted it, plus it went already into the washing machine—but it was still there, trapped in the fibers. A ghost.
He didn’t think. He just acted.
Bringing the tank top to his face, he pressed the fabric against his nose, his mouth, and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut. There. There you were. A memory of your laughter, the way you’d whisper his name when he was inside you, the scratch of your nails down his back.
His cock twitched, then hardened fully, curving up towards his stomach, flushed and leaking a thin bead of precum. He was dizzy with it, the sudden, violent rush of desire.
He stumbled to the couch, sinking down onto the cushions. The leather was cold against his bare thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat coursing through his body. He leaned his head back against the cushion, still holding the tank top to his face, breathing you in. Breathe. Just breathe.
But breathing wasn’t enough.
His free hand, trembling slightly, drifted down his chest. He traced the lines of his own muscles—the deep groove between his pecs, the ridged ladder of his abs, the dark trail of hair that led lower. It wasn’t your hand. It was too large, too rough, the calluses on his palms from a lifetime of too much pressure. But it was all he had.
He thought about the way you touched him. Slow, at first. Teasing. You’d start at his hips, those clever fingers drawing lazy circles on the sensitive skin just above his groin, making his breath hitch. You’d never go straight for what he wanted. You’d make him wait, make him burn.
“Okay,” he whispered into the fabric of your shirt, his voice a wrecked, gravelly rasp. “Okay, sweetheart. Like you. I can do it like you.”
His fingers traced those imaginary circles on his own hip, feather-light, agonizingly slow. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t you. But his body, starved for any kind of pleasure, responded anyway. His thighs tensed, his stomach muscles jumping under his skin.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He wrapped his hand around his length, and a choked groan was ripped from his chest. He was so hard it hurt, the skin hot and silky to the touch. He squeezed, just once, and his hips bucked involuntarily.
He tried to mimic your rhythm. The way you’d stroke him with a loose, twisting grip, your thumb sweeping over the head on every upstroke, gathering the slickness there. The way you’d whisper filthy, wonderful things in his ear, telling him how good he felt, how much you wanted him.
He started to move his hand, a slow, deliberate pace that had his toes curling against the rug. The tank top was still pressed to his face, and with every breath, he filled his lungs with you. He was drowning in you, in the memory of you, and he didn’t want to be saved.
“Yeah,” he gasped, the word muffled by the cotton. “Just like that. Fuck, just like that, honey. So good.”
His pace quickened, his control slipping. He was too far gone for slow. He needed more. The wet sound of his fist sliding over his cock filled the quiet room, obscene and desperate. He was making a mess—precum slicking his fingers, smearing on his stomach—and he didn’t care. He angled his hips, thrusting up into his own grip, chasing the pressure, the friction, the blinding heat that was building at the base of his spine.
His mind was a kaleidoscope of images. Your smile. The flash of heat in your eyes when you were on top of him. The way you’d bite your lip when you came. The sound of his name on your lips, broken into a thousand pieces.
“God,” he groaned, his voice cracking. “Oh, God—Sunshine. Please. Please, don’t stop.”
He was talking to a ghost. To a shirt. To the empty air. But he couldn’t stop. The petname fell from his lips like a prayer, raw and aching. Sunshine. What he’d called you since the first night you’d spent together, because you were the brightest, warmest thing in his entire world.
He was close. So close. The tension coiled tight in his balls, a white-hot wire about to snap. His strokes became frantic, uneven, his entire body rigid with the effort of holding on for just a second longer. He buried his face deeper into the tank top, inhaling a final, desperate lungful of your scent.
And that was it, that’s the way the world went white behind his eyelids.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Your name tangled with the pet name was torn from him in a hoarse, shattered cry as he came. His back arched off the couch, every muscle locked taut, and he spilled over his own fist in thick, pulsing ropes. Hot stripes of come painted his stomach, his lower abs, dripping down onto his hip. A small whimper came out of his lips. The mess was spectacular, glistening in the dim light, a testament to four days of agonizing denial.
He shuddered through it, his hand still moving slowly, milking the last tremors of pleasure from his spent body. His chest was heaving, sweat beading on his brow, his hair plastered to his forehead. The tank top, now slightly damp from his breath, slipped from his fingers and landed on his chest.
For a long moment, he just lay there, boneless and dazed, staring at the ceiling. The frantic, feverish need was gone, leaving behind a dull, hollow ache in its wake. He felt… empty. The orgasm had been explosive, yes, a physical relief. But it wasn’t you. It was a pale, pathetic substitute.
He closed his eyes, the stickiness cooling on his skin, and wished, not for the first time that night, that you were here to wipe him clean. To curl up against his side and press a kiss to his shoulder.
He fell asleep on the couch, naked, covered in his own release, with your tank top clutched in his hand.
The first thing he was aware of was the smell of coffee behind the door and then the click of a key in the lock.
His eyes snapped open. Sunlight was streaming through the living room windows, turning the dust motes into floating gold. He was still naked. Still a mess. And his super-hearing was suddenly, terrifyingly focused on the sound of your heartbeat just outside the door.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
So fast. So alive. Here.
He should move. He should fly to the bathroom, clean up, put on some pants. Be the cool, collected boyfriend who definitely did not spend his nights jerking off into your clothes but his body wouldn’t obey. He was frozen, still sprawled on the couch, as the door swung open.
You walked in, rolling a small carry-on suitcase behind you on one hand while the other was busy with two coffees from the cafeteria two blocks away. You were wearing a sweater he’s very sure belongs to him and leggings, your hair pulled up in a messy bun. You looked tired. And absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.
“Clark?” you called out, kicking the door shut behind you. “You up? My meeting from today was canceled and I was free to go. I thought I’d surprise—”
You rounded the corner into the living room and stopped dead.
Your eyes went wide. They took in the scene in a single, comprehensive Sweep. Your sweet and shy boyfriend, naked, sprawled on the couch. The drying, flaking mess on his stomach. Your tank top clutched in his hand. His flushed, disheveled face. The way his cock, already twitching back to life at the mere sight of you, was beginning to stir again against his thigh.
A beat of silence. Two.
Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across your face. It was a dangerous smile. A smile that made his stomach clench with a new, entirely different kind of heat.
“Well, good morning to you too,” you said, your voice a low purr. You dropped the handle of your suitcase. It fell to the floor with a clatter you didn’t even seem to hear. Your eyes never left his while you put the coffees in the coffee table that was close to him. “Miss me?”
He opened his mouth, but the only sound that came out was a strangled, helpless groan.
You were already walking towards him, shrugging off his sweater, wearing a thin shirt under. “Four days,” you murmured, reaching the couch and placing one knee on the cushion beside his hip. You leaned over him, your face inches from his, your scent—fresh, real, vivid—wiping away the ghost of the tank top entirely. “And you couldn’t even wait twenty minutes for me to get home?”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “I… I didn’t now you were coming today, sunshine.”
“I can see that,” you whispered, smirking because he always can hear you even if you’re far away. He was very into his quiet moment, apparently. Your eyes were on his for a moment and then you were kissing him, hard and deep, and your hand was sliding down his chest, through the mess he’d made, making those faint circles around his groin area, barely brushing the curls of hair there and then wrapping around him with a grip that was so much better than his own.
He moaned into your mouth, his arms coming up to crush you against him, sticky skin and all and that way Clark realices that maybe being a clingy, desperate mess wasn’t so bad after all.
“meant it” | nerdystoner!jason | university au | smut
summary: jason’s finding it hard seeing you, seemingly, move on from him so his solution is to keep his distance. fortunately, he can’t even manage that.
tags + extras: college!au, angst, smoking, drinking, smut, reader is (was) a virgin. car sex. jealousy, frat houses mentioned, bsfs!brother, yes the reader has more than one bsf. plottwist. dick is in a frat because of course out of all the batboys it would be him. jason is not in a frat cause he wouldn’t join it, he’d think its stupid but would stick around for some parties for funsies.
a/n: so so so sorry, life got busy and the university experience was killing me as it is the characters in this au lmao. anyway, i hope this lives up to your expectations and doesn’t disappoint. unfortunately i couldn’t proofread cause i had my first amateur boxing match last night (and won yay) so i didn’t have time…
the funny thing about saying something out loud is that it solidifies itself by whoever heard it.
being caught off guard and saying something you’d never really considered before and it takes root in your life as your word is held against you. something about this whole situation reminded you of the fundamentals of primary school and the golden rules you were supposed to follow.
treat others the way you want to be treated.
think before you speak.
something must’ve gotten lost in translation because everything seems to be going to shit.
back inside of the house, jason is nowhere to be found.
you duck into his room, check grayson’s, and then ultimately decide to check back downstairs again. nothing. pulling out your phone to call jason when you run into grayson, walking right into him as you descend down the stairs.
“woah, slow down,” he holds your shoulders straight, “where are we going?”
waving your phone around vaguely, “i was looking for jason but i think he left?”
grayson nods, “yeah. he went on a liquor run with roy and wally.”
“huh,” nodding back, you hum, “liquor run.”
“yeah, it’s a pool party this time so guaranteed need a couple kegs and something strong for shots.” continuing while you walk with him to the now fixed window and shooing away barry and oliver who were standing way too close to comfort. “and whoever did this shit is gonna get their ass beat when i find them.”
“makes sense.” you barely reply, watching as people move around you but not really paying attention.
the last few days have been, eventful to say the least. then hal threw in that curveball that just caused another spiral of what you and jason even were. he apologized, yes, and of course you want jason. you’ll always want jason but you’ve spent so much time now on him, trying to get over him to no avail. weeks of your life distancing yourself only to get pulled back to him again.
saying yes to hal felt like more of an unconscious decision than you actually wanting to date him.
it’s probably mean but he threw you off when he suddenly asked you out and it almost felt like a sign. that you had options and that not being with jason wasn’t the end of the world even if it felt like it. maybe hal could give you some perspective.
it’s not like hal jordan is ugly by any means. you’ve seen him without a shirt and he’s insanely ripped, much like grayson is. he’s pretty too, the kind that would make anyone do a double take.
but in the back of yours mind you still knew.
he’s not jason.
“hey,” grayson suddenly says, “you keep zoning out on me.”
you turn to face him, “yeah, sorry.”
he shakes his head and points a finger at your forehead, “don’t apologize. what’s going on in that head of yours?”
with a heavy sigh and no patience left to lie, “i hooked up with jason again.”
grayson’s eyes widen, “oh, i didn’t need to know that—” he sighs, “uh, isn’t that a good thing?”
you nod slowly, “i think so.”
from behind the two of you, the party began to get bigger. glassing clinking and laughter ringing. roaring music as tim whispered something in connor’s ear and he clicked away on his phone. hal had already joined the crowd with his shirt crooked on his body and a hand clasped around a beer. the front door was opening and closing more than you could count and the bodies stacking inside were more than the previous ones you’d been to probably because it was the last one of the school year. but jason wasn’t back yet.
someone bumps into you from behind and touches your waist to steady you from falling.
“oops sorry. ‘m a clutz.” laughing as she lets go of your side to get a better look at you. “wait, i know you!”
she smiles bright, her hair dark and beautiful. her eyes had the prettiest sparkle to them. you blink at the girl in front of you and exchange a glance with grayson.
“are you in my program?” you ask.
grayson cuts in, “no, this is donna. you met her at the last party.”
you nod slowly as the gears turn you recognize her face from spin the bottle. “oh, hey. sorry.”
“you were dating jason right?” a clear slur in her voice that told you’d she’d been drinking for a while before getting here, “ugh i was talking to roy and he’s such a dog. both of them are honestly. i just can’t believe jason made that bet about you seriously. all my sisters are uber pissed and swore to keep away for at least another week.”
your stomach drops at her words and the creeping feeling of embarrassment takes form. though another form of jealousy crept too.
“you all heard?” you ask quietly.
donna nods immediately, “of course, everyone kinda did. but and of course roy is still up jade’s ass so whatever.”
she doesn’t notice how you’re demeanour shifts just barely. the creeping unease from everyone knowing your existence from a bet, no matter how much reassurance jason gave you. it was finally in front of you. you’d seen how you’re known to people you don’t really even know—as a joke.
twisting his head slightly, dick read how her words were hitting you before you’d even said anything yourself. he gestures to her hand quickly. “you’re drinking pink whitney?”
she shrugs and holds her cup up, “of course. don’t act like it’s not good.”
“never said that it’s just banned from this frat. too many bad memories.”
a distant shout makes grayson turn his attention that way again. when you turn too, you see conner with blood dripping down his neck and a face palming tim. the needle in conners hand is barely visible from where you were but you could see enough to know he was adjusting a new piece of metal in his lip, matching the other side.
he pierced himself and didn’t even seem fazed.
“for fucks sake,” grayson murmurs under his breath before putting hand up to both of you and storming over towards them.
“i told him not to do it,” tim sighs and shrugs while conner looks pleased with himself, already tonguing at the snake bite.
grayson grabs the towel and holds it to his lip himself, like the responsible guy he tries to be. “this is the last time you pierce yourself dude. just go to the fucking tattoo parlor across the street.”
beneath the paper towel, conner laughs but it comes out more muffled, “‘n pay sixty-five bucks? ya right.”
you’d probably been smiling at their interaction or just tuned out so much that donna tapped you again.
“do you want get a drink too? i’m basically out.”
glancing towards the front door once more, like it could bring jason back faster, you slowly nod. the two of you move towards the kitchen and donna starts talking about astrology and zodiac signs. she explains how her sign is compatible with most people but you don’t quite remember what her sign even was from how fast she talked. by the time she’s pouring you a drink in a solo cup and handing it to you, she starts talking about roy again.
“—he’s a dick. a real piece of work but when we’re alone he’s sweet. i don’t get it.” she sighs before gesturing towards you vaguely at how zoned out you were again, “but i’m sure jason is similar right? they are bestfriends.”
though you answer immediately, your blood warm from the alcohol already, “no. he’s actually really sweet in every situation. just kindhearted like it’s in his blood, i don’t know, it’s kind of infuriating.”
she nods along, “he keeps to himself yeah. just a real ass for making that bet over you babe. i’m sorry about that.”
grimacing softly, you sigh, “why’re you sorry? it’s not like you did it.”
“i mean, it just doesn’t make sense.” donna dramatically groans, “he’s in love with you! why’d do men do terrible things to the women they love?”
you down the rest of your cup and immediately regret it with a groan of disgust before shrugging, “it’s not love. it’s like a race of endurance. who can take more hardship from someone whose supposed to make their life easier.”
she laughs with her pretty teeth out, bumping shoulders with you, “you sound like you’ve had a lot of shitty boyfriends.”
“one was enough,” you genuinely laugh too before it simmers into something deeper, “and he’s not shitty and that’s the problem.”
she frowns, “oh babe, i know exactly what you mean.”
the front door continues to open and close, inviting new people in and letting others out. between the shuffling, the two of you slide onto the counter, legs crossed towards the other. that’s when a thought occurs to you again and it demands to be discovered. you gulp before you speak.
“um… did you really mean what you said earlier? that everyone heard what roy said?”
donna’s frown deepens before she nods, “the people around us and other sorority did.”
“who cares though? after you graduate, you’ll never gonna see these losers again.”
she jumps off the counter, “let’s go, show ‘em how hot you are.”
sipping your drink, you glancing towards the party through the doorway. you blink at her than down at your clothes that wasn’t meant for a party.
“nah i’m good in here.” lying right through your teeth like you were any form of good right now.
she rolls her eyes and drags you anyways, back towards the loud music. as soon as you’re back you see shots being poured by roy and wally. the two of them arguing over who had better taste in music while you walked over with donna. when you look to donna to tell her to ignore roy, she’s already got hearts in her eyes and you sigh softly to yourself.
“—all you listen to is fucking faye webster,” roy sighs, “i bet you listen to taylor swift too.”
wally gasps like he’s offended, “okay that’s where i draw the line.”
when roy opens his mouth again, conner drapes his arms around both of their shoulders, “both of you have shit taste, how’s that?”
as soon as roy squints at tim over conners shoulder. though tim only smiled tightly and tilts his head towards where you stood with donna. he catches donnas eye and he shoots her a stupid smile. the kind you recognize from him as the one he makes to women he wants to sleep with. you step slightly in front of her like a protective boyfriend or something even though you’d just met her. cause you know what roy is like and in the little time you’d known donna, you know how he makes her feel with so little words.
“have you seen jason?” you say with a tilt of your head.
roy shrugs, “he’s probably still being the keg inside.”
you frown, “you let him bring a whole keg in alone?”
“have you seen the man?” asking with genuine confusion towards you, “he’s fucking ripped.”
as if you even have to think about it, you nod and turn to go find him. donna’s already making her way towards roy before you can tell her anything. so you continue your way towards the garage.
music slowly getting quieter as you walk down the hall and into the laundry room. ignoring the people making out on top of the washer and dryer as you open the garage door and find it still open. and jason’s mustang still on. but he was nowhere to be found there. you circle the car and turn the corner to no avail still. jason wasn’t there. you turn towards the front door and still don’t find him. with an exasperated groan, you stomp towards the backyard door to try again at finding him because there’s no way he just left his car on right?
“you looking for something?” a husky voice calls out.
before you’d even touched the backward door, you spin on your heel to find jason there. blunt burning between his fingers as he leaned against his car.
“yeah actually.” as you approach him, “you.”
his face stays the same as he takes another drag. eyes not lifting from you and the same stoic look on them.
“so, you found me.” he says as he blows the smoke out. the grey clouding around him and the sour smell of marijuana radiating off of him. heady in the way that distracts you.
you nod like it means something and lean next to him. “you always seem to smoke in the same spot so if you were trying to hide, should try harder.”
jason sighs and stretches his shoulders, “i guess i’m getting predictable.”
the moment pauses as you try to decipher the meaning in his words. “i didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
his eyes meet yours as he pushes off the wall. “neither did i.”
making quick work to ash out his barely lit joint, he flicks it away as he pivots and moves to go back inside without even a glance towards your direction. something in your stomach twists. you frown to yourself before deciding to ask him.
“did i do something wrong?”
jason turns his head just enough to look at you. his hand still on the door as he pulls it open. the smile that he gives you barely reaches his eyes as that same exhaustion you’d seen earlier had returned.
“nah ma, you didn’t do anything.”
then the door follows behind him, leaving you in the cold air to think to yourself. just long enough to decide that you should go home and give the both of you some space.
space you knew would eat away at your sanity.
luckily, you’re not much of a drinker so waking up early wasn’t hard to do after last night.
getting to gordon’s presentation on his new paper was easier than your morning practicals, at least today. naturally as his assistant and amateur researcher, you’d been invited to attend the gala thrown by the sponsors.
by the time you arrived, the guests were set up and the audience was packed. gordon’s standing by the bar with some of the law professors, holding a darkened drink that was definitely bitter and pretentious. a select few men with their hair slicked back had gathered around where gordon stood. conversing and laughing in a pitch that exhibited more wealth than you’d ever known.
your heels were already killing you as you walked off the subway since they had to host this on the upper east side of town. you tug at your neatly arranged dress and step forward to mingle like you were supposed to. forced to talk to the people that funded gordon’s PhD and his years of research that every other person had found ridiculous.
the sound of your name being called made you turn towards it.
“when’d you get here sweetheart?” gordon smiled as he gestured you towards the rest of them.
he was always such a strong and respected figure that you saw him like a parent. since your first year, you’d taken classes with him and his years of extensive police work had drawn you in. gordon might’ve pushed you really hard like he wanted you to do well because he really did. in the back of his mind he knew you were brilliant and wanted to nourish it before you finally graduated.
that’s why you had a full year of research assistance under your belt thanks to him.
the men around him parted for you and you exchanged a gentle hello. “i just got here actually.”
he nods, “good. great timing. i’d like you to meet some people!” gesturing towards the people in crisp suits with swirling glasses. “this is clifford devoe.”
the name rang bells immediately from how poorly gordan talked about him in private to you. gordans eyes looked to you then to the man again, silently saying a thousand words. you fill in the blanks for him and offer your hand to clifford when he raises his to take yours.
“you must be the generous one the university appointed. it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
with your hand gently taken into his hand, the feeling of unease that radiated off of him was unmistakable. you hide the grimace that he caused when he repeats your name to you.
“hm, yes.” still holding your hand a moment too long. dragging his eyes over you before letting you pull away. “i’ve seen what you’d contributed to the study on adolescent rehabilitation and prison reform. truly sickening that we still debate the human nature of criminals.”
you’re sure you’re failing terribly at hiding your distaste now. “don’t you think it’s a little silly to attribute it all to human nature?”
from beside you gordan seems to purse his lips. though clifford scoffs and smiles small, “of course a young woman such as yourself would think so as if that’s some revolutionary thought.” laughing through his words.
the condescension was clear from his rude mouth. you could taste the bitterness he spewed.
you hum, “why of course a man such as yourself would believe no one is redeemable but himself.”
from beside him, the black haired man in the suit catches your eye briefly before chuckling into his glass. narrowing your eyes at the shape of his eyebrows because they were just so familiar, the thick arches that mimicked wings. it reminded you of jason and his thick set brows that were studiously perfect without having touched them.
gordon clears his throat and nudges you softly before saying your name to change the subject.
“have you seen the completed poster with all the statistics? it looks really great, let me show you.”
before you can say anything else, he’s already been walking away, turning his head to look at you just to ensure you’re following him. with a polite and contrasting goodbye, you take your leave. feeling proud of yourself as
when you get to the poster, gordon’s standing there squinting like he’s got something bad to say. but he just shakes his head and points to the men you’d left at the bar, still conversing like no tension had ever raised.
“he pays for the damn project sweetheart, we can’t insult him no matter how much of an ass he may be.”
you shrug and sigh before mumbling. “at least not to his face right?”
despite the situation, gordan laughs. “yeah, at least not to his face.” patting your back and turning the both of you towards the poster. “now, did i tell you that they approved you as a peer-reviewed scholar once you’ve graduated?”
looking towards the statistics scattered across the large poster, you saw all the datasets you’d condensed. all the graphs and charts that you’d made and the spreadsheets that made you feel like you were losing brain cells. you didn’t think you’d get being a contributor to research paper on your record too. just being an assistant was enough. with a tilt of your head at the meticulous pie chart you made so long ago you forgot about, you hum.
“but i’m not gonna be here so how could i contribute anything anyway?”
he shakes your shoulder gently, the way the father would when he’s proud but doesn’t wanna say it with words aloud. “it won’t publish until october.”
that stopped your mind from thinking about anything else but what just came out of his mouth.
eyes widening as you turn to him. “wait, really?”
this would set you apart from other applicants in your graduate program and give you a better chance at getting into it.
he smiles with crinkles around his eyes and nods because you’d only been talking about this since you started. also because someone had already mentioned your interest to him.
“do i get any credit for that part of it?” a voice from behind you sound a d you turn to face it.
but you didn’t expect for it to be bruce wayne.
you blink at your friends dad that you’d only seen a handful of times before. now you recall how he was sat at the bar earlier, just his eyes visible and the realization of how they looked having distracted you enough. still you smile and lean forward to take his hand when he offers it.
“mr. wayne, it’s so nice to see you. i didn’t think you’d be here.”
his hand was firm and certain. righteous in a way that he radiated the energy even when you would just briefly see him.
“gordon invited me along with a couple business partners. it’s good to see you again. what’s it been? 2 years?” bruce gives a small smile while he places his drink on the table next to you. looking to gordon, bruce switches his gaze between him and the poster, “i’ve been thinking, you could go back as commissioner and implement these ideas yourself gordon.”
a snort escapes gordon as he shakes his head, “no way, and leave my cushiony tenure position?” laughing as he gestures to the poster. “you see the bridge in socioeconomic status and educational attainment? those positions don’t require degrees. they just need intelligence and compassion that comes naturally. you got a knack for those bruce.”
the two of them share a knowing glance before someone approaches gordon to ask about something with his focus group, taking away his attention. he excuses himself before he leaves you there with bruce. for a moment, it’s quiet while bruce watches the party, taking slow sips of his bourbon.
you watch with him, noticing how the people in this party were mostly the types who didn’t need to worry about these things. about the ones that are unfairly prosecuted or treated as villainous for trying to survive. no one in this room held that title the way you’d seen women and men alike being pressed. surveillance was created by them for them, to protect them.
that’s what made you want to get involved in gordon’s study. a chance to use theory and practice in a way that actually mattered.
“you think very loudly.” bruce suddenly says.
your head turns to his, still looking out at the people conversing and moving about. she’s trained over nothing and everything at once.
“my bad,” you laugh nervously.
he only shoots you another smile, “don’t be. your mind is brilliant and meant to think. don’t burn yourself out doing it too much. it’s a habit i’ve yet to get my sons to figure out too.”
sons. right.
nodding your head, you change the subject. “you know gordon pretty well?”
he nods too. “knew him back when he was still an officer. the man is a saint personified.”
distracted from the topic at hand, you try to stay focused, nodding along and silently staring at where bruce’s eyes were trained. though bruce is incredibly attentive, and he immediately notices how you’d been looking. fixing his watch that didn’t need any adjusting as he speaks.
“dick tells me jason misses you.”
nearly choking on your spit, you look to bruce again, forgetting to not look so surprised. “what?”
behind his professionalism, something turns warmer. “he’s taking academics more seriously. i’ve always told him he’s got the smarts when he puts his mind to it but i’m sure you’ve seen how shrugs it off.”
not knowing what to say, you nod him along.
“…he even applied for a couple graduate programs thanks to you and got into them all across the country.” lifting his glass and sipping.
“i didn’t know he applied.” you admit.
“it’s force of habit i guess,” he shrugs. “he didn’t even tell me when he got into gotham university. just started attending classes and brushed it off like it was no big deal which i assure you, it is.”
frowning at his fathers admission, “that’s kinda sad. he’s probably the smartest person i know.”
suddenly bruce smiles at you, his grin something more of fond remembrance. he adjusts his suit and sniffs just audible enough for you to notice. then his smile falls as he meets the eye of someone across from the room and they wave to one another.
“if you see my son, please let him know for me that his bike has been replaced. and that i need him to answer the phone when i call him.” touching your wrist softly and bidding you goodbye.
with nothing to say or actualize the fact with, you’d turned your attention back to the poster. the words swirling themselves until you’d forgotten what the last year collecting was about.
suddenly you’re glad there’s noone around to ask you about it, cause you’re not sure you’d know.
“dude just back that shit up on me.” grayson coos.
from in front of him, wally groans. “no dude, it’s not gonna fit in there anyways. just ask someone else to.”
“i’ll make it fit just shut up and do it.”
on the couch a phone rings. both of the boys ignore it and instead continuing muttering at the other. taking turns groaning as wally pushes the desk, hal shakes his head from the other side of the room.
“you guys know you could do this literally anywhere else.”
“and you could help, you know?” grayson sighs as he drops the horribly built ikea desk wally built. looking hal up and down, dick furrows his brow. “why are you even dressed like that?”
brushing off his shirt with absolutely no lint on it, hal smooths out the folds in his button up. grinning from ear to ear like a kid who’d won a prize. “I have a date.”
the boys all turn to look at him.
“oh,” wally lets the desk back on the ground, ignoring how grayson groans when it hits his foot. “a hot date huh? she got a friend?”
like perfectly horrible timing, jason’s walking into the living room. to grab his phone he’d forgotten that had unknowingly been ringing and buzzing. his eyes fall on hal on the chair immediately, trailing up his form with sharp eyes. dick clears his throat at the sight.
“your phones been ringing.” he simply says.
“yeah, i heard.” jason murmurs as he clears past hal wordlessly and heads straight to the kitchen as though he wanted nothing to do with him.
as though his very being annoyed him enough that he couldn’t spare him a glance right now. the sudden presence and departure of jason had thrown the energy of the room off for a moment, not because of him but how far hals discomfort radiated. wally takes a long look between grayson and hal before nodding towards where jason had disappeared behind the wall of.
“what’s his problem?” he sits next to hal on the couch, legs going up lazily on the coffee table.
hal opened his mouth to fill in the blanks, but grayson chimes in first, his eyes trained pointedly on hal as he answers wally. “his girl left him for some douchebag in a frat.”
awkwardly the air fills as wally nods. “right…”
“i’m gonna uh—” hal stands and leaves his cup on the table. “head out now. i’m picking her up and all.”
perched on the ikea desk, grayson nods with an expression that looks disapproving. “i expect you back around midnight cinderella. no hooking up on your first date.”
wally snorts, “hasn’t stopped him before.”
“shut up west.” effectively cutting through the tension again and reminding him who he was speaking about. “i’m serious, i’m putting the latch on after.”
the other two stay silent. hal nodding knowingly before grabbing his key and leaving them with a quiet goodbye. wally furrows his brows only minutes later as he contemplates. while the room drifts back into a silence and grayson leaves to check the kitchen only to find it empty, wally itches his chin.
“gray?” mumbling vaguely.
he hums in acknowledgment as he types away on his phone.
“is the girl he’s going out with jason’s girl?”
that gets him to look up from his phone and bring his hand out. hovering over wally’s forehead before flicking him with a sharp seething sound from his lips. grayson huffs.
“no shit sherlock. now stop straining yourself and get off your ass, get move this desk out of my living room.”
this entire situation was so fucked.
the night had hardly started and hal already fucked up in ways you knew jason would never. when he messaged you about confirming the date, he wouldn’t say where it would be. so instead, you opted to ask what to wear.
big. fucking. mistake.
never ask a man what to where to any occasion because they will give you false, misleading information and clearly hal jordan was no exception.
he told you to dress casual, something everyday, he said. thankfully you chose to wear a simple black dress otherwise you’d be entirely underdressed for this fancy restaurant he took you to. now he’s sitting across from you, flipping through the menu gracefully like he’s a food connoisseur. occasionally humming as he reads out the name of the dish to you.
“would you like the house caviar? it’s genuinely the best thing you’ll find in the tri-state area.” eyes twinkling beautifully under the romantic ambience lighting.
if it were any other period of your life, you might really, truly like him. the way he took charge and pushed to ask you out was hot. he found a way to wiggle into your life and he took what he wanted. hal was good looking, smart, and he had a good head on his shoulders. but somehow you found yourself looking into his eyes like they were interesting. found yourself staring at the orange illuminating his skin like it were the most familiar thing, and watching the flames flicker in his eyes.
staring at the flames that reminded you of him.
the warmth grew on your skin as his face morphed everytime you blinked and the love ached. your heart ached at the thought of him.
he touches your hand, “you okay?”
“huh?” you shut your eyes and look back at him quickly, shaking the distraction off. “sorry i missed what you asked.”
his thumb strokes the back of your hand soothingly. the action grounds you from the thoughts the swirled. “if you’d like caviar to try. the mussels are insane here too.”
shooting him a reassuring smile, you shake your head. “oh um, sure. whatever you’d like.”
“but would you like it?” he counters.
“probably not.” you answer honestly. “sorry.”
he smiles, “don’t apologize. it’s good to know though, next time i’ll take you somewhere not fish related.”
vaguely you nod and try to smile though you’re sure it comes out insincere. hal only frowns and squeezes your hand like he’d known you’d needed some reassurance to guide your thoughts.
“hey we can still go home.” suddenly he says. “i mean i don’t want to, shit i don’t care if jason mopes around and cries himself to sleep. i know what i want and that’s you.”
you blink slowly, letting his declaration find footing in your mind. technically he was right. you had these second thoughts because you weren’t even sure of this date would go ahead or if hal really did like you. it’s almost like he reads your mind when he tilts his head to look harder at you.
“—he doesn’t decide if we like eachother. i’d be damned if i let him get in the way of me and pretty girl just cause he fumbled her.”
the waiter comes by before you can speak through your parted lips and offers more wine. hal smiles and nods at the waiter, his warm hand still holding yours. it only occurred then that you were the one making this awkward, not him. the waiter pours your drinks and hal lifts his with his free hand, gesturing you to do the same. clinking the glasses, he swirls the cup and sips, his eyes trained on yours as you mirror him.
setting his drink back down and letting you take your hand back, hal orders for the both of you. part of you wasn’t sure how to feel, him taking that initiative to place an order of what you’d like to eat but also partially annoyed that he’d assumed what you’d like. or maybe he just did what he pleased. regardless, you were kind of glad he’d said something to the waiter cause the names of the dishes on this menu was absolutely insane. continually you look around the space, taking in the gorgeous lighting and the artwork that definitely costs thousands to maintain here. he watches your face while you stare at the tapestry behind him.
“do you like art then?”
you nod your head, still looking at the painting behind him. “i can appreciate it for sure.”
his eyes don’t falter, still staring at you while you’re looking around. “so can i.”
when you look to him, he’s got his head in one of his hands, smiling fainting with those dimples just deep enough to notice. he blinks at you, still giddy. “don’t mind me. i’m taking it in.”
you raise a brow at him. “taking in me or this place?”
“would it be wrong if i said both?”
heat rushes to his ears as soon as the words leave his mouth. it only makes you feel like imploding from how sweet he was being. fighting the urge to smile until he breaks into a soft laughter and you return the same. shaking your head and looking up the the chandelier hanging just next to you again. hal follows your gaze.
“you’ve looked at that chandelier at least eight times now.” this time looking with you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“sorry,” you laugh. “i haven’t been anywhere this nice before.”
he tops off your drinks and leans his elbows on the table in improper etiquette. “don’t worry about apologizing. i’m not much fancy restaurant guy myself.”
pointedly, you eye him. his effortlessly handsome outfit and his crisp button up shirt. you narrow your eyes at him. “could’ve fooled me jordan.”
“hey,” he raises his hands in surrender. “i don’t even know what these forks are for. i usually like eating with the little one at home.”
a genuine smile returns on your face as you lean closer just as he’s been. “i’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be a sign of neurodivergence.”
“a fork?” he challenges. “you know what, you’re smart and pretty, i believe anything you say.”
lightly you smack his arm and shake your head, calling him stupid with no malice as you sipped your drink. after a couple more minutes, the waiter comes out with your food. as soon as you take a bite, you look up at him wide eyed and make a sound of approval.
hal smiles like he’s won the lottery. “yeah? it’s good?”
with your eyes still closed now, you shake your head and chew. “very good.”
pushing your plate to him, he laughs and takes a forkful to try. only seconds later moaning egregiously enough that the older people in the tables next to you have dirty looks.
“this, is better than sex.” he admits more loudly than he needs to.
“really selling yourself short there,” you laughed.
blinking he laughs. “i mean, sex is objectively good right. but if the girls not feeling it then it’s never good. as a man, i’m objectively not as good as this pasta.”
this only makes you laugh harder. “that still didn’t make any sense.”
your mind eases off of jason for a while as he presses you for information about school and your future. he listens so intently that it makes you feel respected and valued. though this doesn’t last long because you’re left thinking about jason again before you’re trying to shake it off to no avail. the comparisons were hard to ignore.
hal had ordered the caviar he was anxiously wanted you to try and reluctantly you’d made some excuse not to. hal shrugs and eats the rest while you’re not sure whether to be endeared or slightly horrified. but even this wasn’t an issue.
the problem was exactly that. hal jordan had no red flags for you to focus on. nothing for you to say so you could argue that you weren’t ready or that he was rude enough to warrant never seeing him again. he was quite the opposite of being crude. the date was far from terrible. he’d picked you up from your place and even came up to your floor to walk you down. flowers waited for you on the passenger seat once he got you there.
even after the dinner was over and hal had paid for the bill, he wrapped his coat around you and respectfully walked you of the building with a hovering hand. still unsure if he could touch you but not ready enough to ask to. he held the door open as he let you back into his car. drove you back to your apartment and walked you up the stairs all over again. shamefully, all you could backtrack to was jason. all you could imagine was the parallels to jason at your front door, waiting for you to open it. now you were opening your heart to a boy you didn’t pay much mind to a month ago, no matter how physically attractive he was.
but hal had no problems to blame your inability to fall into to. no real issues to back up this feeling that he wasn’t yours because he isn’t jason.
you unlock your front door and push it open, standing in he doorway with the lillies he’d bought you. he stands behind you with his hands in his pocket and a sweet smile that should’ve made you melt, instead you felt like stone.
“thank you for tonight hal. i had a lot of fun.”
shrugging and nodding with that perfect, unfamiliar look on his face, he speaks. “i did too. i really hope i can take you out again soon, maybe something less fancy? this time i can cook for you?”
the thought only made you swirl further.
distant memories that felt closer than before reappeared. jason cooking in your kitchen with a soft hum coming from his throat as he chopped and stirred. him feeding you something saucy and cheesy before he kissed your lips to wipe the residue off. his hands travelling down your thighs while he pressed against you with his lame apron still on. his voice by your ear saying all the sweet things you’d ever wanted to hear. now you wanted to vomit.
you nod, looking into each of hal’s eyes and letting him lean in closer as he stares at your lips. the intention was clear and you felt frozen in place. he leans further in and presses his soft lips to yours, deepening it as his hand came up to hold your head. though you don’t love from your place. you didn’t reach out to touch his head back or let go of the flowers. instead your grip loosened a little and you let your head go a little limp as he held you closer, though his lips somehow felt colder than the last ones you’d touched. then he pulls away, gasping slightly and smiling with his eyes closed.
“you’re so perfect.” he whispers before he kisses your cheek and pulls away. “good night gorgeous.”
watching as his footsteps depart and you stand there with the flowers hanging low, petals facing the floor. after a minute you quietly slip into your house, a new sense of discomfort bubbling. you shut the door behind you and lean against it, flows slipping from your fingers and hitting the floor with a soft thud. a shudder runs though you.
you’re not sure how many minutes are spent like this, thoughts swirling you around and taking root in your mind. the thoughts of jason and unease guilt that you didn’t believe you should even harbour. somehow you felt angry, not with hal, and not even with jason, but with yourself.
slow, hot years rush down your cheeks as you bury your head in your hands.
what the fuck were you doing?
the door shuts behind him with a thud, a soft groan on his lips as he slips his shoes off.
everyone should be asleep in the frat house now. it’s nearly 1am and he’s lucky grayson didn’t lock hal out. but there’s a light on in the kitchen, and something told him he wasn’t going to be let off so easily.
quietly hal creeps toward the kitchen, pulling off his belt as he approaches and leaves it on the table in the hall like he’d had a long day at work.
“how’s your date?” a voice grumbles.
hal nearly jumps, “jeez, fuck—jason? what’re you doing up?”
from the dining table jason grumbles again. dimly lit but just visible enough, hal spots a beer and a ashtray in front of him. “couldn’t sleep.”
stalking a little closer, hal turns on another light. “waiting up for me to get home i assume?”
“doesn’t matter,” he quickly answers. “whatever forget i asked.” getting up and throwing his beer out.
hal only stands there, watching him move and murmuring a quiet, “alright then…”
then jason turns around. he freezes in the doorway before he turns to hal, something on his face that meant he was serious. “just don’t… hurt her, alright?”
“you mean like you did?” crossing his arms across his chest as he blankly stares at jason.
“yeah,” jason agrees, his eyes shining with a soft sheen that told hal he was clearly emotional while he was out. then he resorts to threatening. “don’t do what i did cause i swear to god i’ll make you regret it jordan.”
though hal sees how he seemed defensive without any real malice. jason seems genuinely sad as though he’s realized what he done just as he was weeks ago, moping around the house. this time he only seemed defeated, and it didn’t seem worth it to keep dragging jason’s past along.
easing back toward the table, hal shrugs him off. “look man,” he sighs, “you don’t have anything to worry about.”
jason perks up a little as he look back up again. “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” shuffling his feet as he mentally prepares himself to reassure jason. “she seemed distracted the whole night. like she’s in her own head thinking about something else. it wasn’t until we got to her apartment that she—”
before he knew it jason was in his face, dangerously close. “you went to her home?” anger in his tone.
“i didn’t go into her home, i just dropped her off to her front door. no big deal. it’s not like we fucked or anything.”
his mouth opens and closes again like he’s going to ask him something but he doesn’t. instead he takes a backwards step and nods slowly. “right. good. you should be seeing her get home. it’s uh, safer that way.”
squinting his eyes like jason was entirely transparent despite how he tried to make himself seem, hal shakes his head. the tension falls from its rising crescendo and hal leans onto the table as jason anxiously taps his foot. the two of them unsure how to proceed from here. then grayson walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.
“you idiots whisper yell very loudly.” turning his head to hal to hone in on him. “didn’t i say be back earlier?”
“well you don’t lock the door.” shooting a cheeky smile that grayson doesn’t find amusing.
jason uses the opportunity to excuse himself and takes a bottle of water from the fridge. tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as he walks out. “night.”
the two boys return the sentiment and grayson turns back to hal, before jason is too far to miss their words. “how’d it go? you kiss her?”
from the staircase, jason stayed put there and held his breath. waiting for hal’s response to what he knew he had no right to be angry over. the milliseconds it takes him to respond felt like an eternity to jason.
hal chuckles quietly, “it went good. really good. i’m gonna take her out again next week.”
grayson nods expectantly. “you didn’t answer the second part.”
“yeah,” hal starts with a fond smile on his face, “i kissed her.”
letting out a slow, controlled breath from his nose, jason stares into the abyss ahead of him. at the dark unlit hallway that lead to his room and stalks towards it without thinking about it.
he doesn’t stay long enough to hear what his brother says and goes straight to his room.
the ethics lecture was the most boring one they’d gone over and you wished you slept in.
students had fallen asleep on their desk across the lecture hall, theatre seating giving you great view to see what everyone was up to. you were still distracted from the events of the last week and how you’d done a date with hal only two days prior.
the thing is, you hadn’t told anyone about it yet. you hadn’t seen cassandra or grayson. hell you hasn’t even heard roy’s loud mouth in a week let alone seen jason.
now you were finishing up your notes and cross referencing it to the readings to understand what concepts overlapped. highlighting the theories that worked in contemporary cases and found something to discredit it for your final paper coming up. the professor spoke quickly as he went through the importance of ethics as a researcher. how you’d need to inform the participant of their role in your work and how they play an important part in pinpointing change.
how it was your job to be honest and responsible. to ensure you’ve spoke nothing but the truth to the people you’d involved. all you wanted now was to talk to jason. not that you’re sure what you’d say, just that his voice could ease your mind from everything else.
once the lecture is over, you’re the first one to leave. a sweet treat and coffee was in order for the fruits of your labour today—getting out of bed and going to a lecture.
the cafe air is always warm and inviting. the scent of arabian beans and baked goods drawing you closer to the counter. it’s a blessing that it’s located right at the edge of campus too, so when the library was too packed, you’d head here.
you take your drink and a house made brownie to head to the booth seat by the window. watching the clear blue sky and listening to the chatter in the cafe. you pull out your laptop and notebook, cracking your knuckles in anticipation for what awaits you and how much studying you needed to catch up on. no matter how hard you prepared, there was always more to do in university. plus, being a research assistant meant you’d have to push your work work aside to aid in a project.
though right as you open a new tab and click your pen, you see him.
jason walked into the store with his headphones on and his bag slung over his shoulder. he heads straight for the booth in front of you and ouuuu track his movements without making it obvious. though when he passes by your table, he slows down. his eyes fall over you as fast as he looked away, and you feel a sense of disappointment wash over you. then, he just slides into his seat and all you can see is his hair poking out the top of the booth from tall he is in comparison.
why were you disappointed that he didn’t really say hi, you’re the one who kinda ghosted him.
to yourself you blink. at the laptop you blink harder. no, you’re not being crazy right? why didn’t he reach out anyway? is this all justified to him like he doesn’t really even care? you guys have been studying together for a while now, and he always joins you so boyfriend or not, why didn’t he? aren’t you guys friends?
you’re standing up before you know it, grabbing your things and roughly shoving it in your bag. the reasoning had convinced you enough that he was the one being weird because he totally was. didn’t jason even say you did nothing wrong the other night?
“hey,” you say standing next to his booth.
he lifts his headphone from one ear, “uh hi.”
“why didn’t you sit with me?”
blinking as he pauses his music, jason slides his headphones off and gestures you to sit. quietly you do.
“i assumed you were busy.” he says as you sit.
“i wasn’t.” more timidly than you intended to.
he shrugs slightly, “it looked like you were.”
for a moment you still. maybe you were right. maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. but why won’t he just say it out loud?
jason fiddles with his headphones for a second before he decides the grain of the wooden table was more interesting. you however, weren’t amused. in fact, you were quite confused as to why he’d been avoiding you entirely.
“was it something that i said?“ plainly, you ask.
jason sighs and looks you in the eyes fully for the first time since you sat down. “we haven’t talked in days, what could you have said?”
“exactly,” nodding his sentiment along, “you’ve been avoiding me and i can’t figure out why…”
“i’ve just been busy.” he lies.
“liar.” you call him out. “we have the same classes.”
with his hands, he gestures slyly. “look,” not realizing how his tone gave him away. “you didn’t say anything wrong.”
“so i did something then.” you correct.
jason grumbles and says your name. “no, now you’re putting words in my mouth. we, you and i, we’re good. you don’t owe me anything ma. i just want you to be happy.”
the nickname makes your stomach flutter regardless. jason looks to his phone to a message from roy and sighs before standing up again.
but you’re thinking over the meaning behind his words. i just want you to be happy. you don’t owe me anything. where the hell was that coming from?
“i gotta go.” shoving his headphones into his bag and getting out of the booth.
“oh, already?” you try and fail to hide your disappointment.
he only nods, “i’ll see you around princess.”
then he walks off.
the meaning behind his words only swirled you more confused. the thoughts filling your mind and sending mixed signals throughout. his sudden cold demeanour had you thinking and overthinking, letting them sink through the fabric of your clothes and onto your skin like a brand you felt shameful wearing as it clicked.
fuck, jason knew.
—
“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
grayson has always been terrible at hiding his actual feelings with you. he could hardly even mask it as he stretches his legs out for his run and shakes his head.
“you’re still in love with him. of course you are! you guys are both playing racket ball with my last couple of brain cells.” pulling his leg behind him into a deep stretch.
burying your face in the pillow on his bed, you try not to scream.
lucky jason wasn’t home according to grayson. he had gone up to the cottage to grab his bike apparently and decided to spend the weekend there so he wouldn’t be back until monday.
folding to lay his palms flat in the ground, he effortlessly continues. “i never liked the hal thing for the record. i’d prefer keeping you in the family.”
“gray, you’re not helpful at all.” you murmur from his pillow.
sighing, he stands upright. “alright. fine. you tell me then.” striding closer and ruffling you hair obnoxiously. “do you really love him?”
from the pillows you lift your head and look up at his watchful eyes, a arch in his brow that demanded honesty. slowly you nod.
“i think he made me understand what it means and i’ll always want him.” you admit.
grayson shakes his head at your response as you sit upright. “that’s not what i asked though. do you love him? because if you’re using hal to move on, that’s a disservice to both of you. hal and yourself.”
“not jason?” you raise a brow.
“nope.” he quickly answers. “that boy made his bed the first time he messed with you. everything else is fair game in my mind.”
that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. his honesty only making his statement funnier to you.
“aye, i’m serious. jason hurt you once, so i’m not sweating you trying to move on, even if it’s a little fast for you.” patting your shoulder softly as he moves back towards the door.
though a sinking guilt still held you, he made you feel a little better. “thanks gray.”
“anytime,” he smiles. “now you have no excuse to miss the party i’m throwing you.”
everything in your face drops, both in disbelief and shock. “for me? what?”
this only makes him smile wider. “ha, perfect keep that surprised face when everyone shows up. it’s not everyday someone gets into grad school like haven’t been gushing over it since their first year.”
before you can grumble his name or protest another party after last weekends where jason vaguely told you, “you did nothing ma.” grayson is already out the door. stomping down the stairs as his open door lets the sound of his voice travel.
“wear something nice please!”
the walk over to the frat house was obnoxious as the campus was packed. people gathered across the field with drinks and blankets, music and loud students celebrating their final days on campus.
there was no choice for you but to attend since grayson practically forced you to go.
opening the door to the house was where you saw just how much bigger this party was than he told you. loud music and synthetic smoke mixed to create a barrier that could make you feel intoxicated just by being there.
by the stairs, there was a group of people lounging and smoking. a huge bong between them and a couple joints being passed between the group. then there was people just standing near the door, lingering and talking. mostly flirting. in the living room was a game of spin the bottle and another group dancing to dancehall.
you hear your name being called just seconds before someone hands you a drink and you gracefully accept. grayson approaches you and eyes the cup.
“what’re you doing accepting random drinks when i made you a special punch eh?” wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking you both towards the kitchen.
you laugh as he spins you by your finger and whistles at your outfit. “you actually listened and wore a skirt.”
gushing beside him is donna, roy’s arm lazily around her waist. “oh my god. you look so hot!”
taking in her attire you admire her. her black dress with sparkles that looked stars in a night sky. she was so effortlessly gorgeous.
“thanks.” you smile. “so are you. that dress is made for you.”
donna laughs and picks up a solo cup, handing it to grayson to pour as roy nods his head at you. then he whispers in her ear and grayson steals your attention once again bu handing you a full cup of punch that you just knew was 90% alcohol and 10% punch.
“this, my beautiful friend, is made solely for you.”
clinking his plastic cup with yours before taking a swig. reluctantly you do the same, taking a long sip of the drink made to inebriate you clearly. the taste made you wince and shake your head, hanging your tongue out of your mouth as you grimace.
“what did you put in this grayson?” you wince.
he laughs and rubs your back as you cough. “oh you know, seltzer, lime, vodka, don’t worry about it. it’s mean to get you drunk and let loose before you’re in that stuck up institution without me.”
“you’re in an institution right now.” you blink.
for a moment he thinks, then he shrugs. “whatever, did you eat yet?”
“uh. not dinner if that’s what you mean.”
he tsks at you and opens the cabinet, tossing a protein bar at you. you catch it and eye the bar before his face like you’d asked, why without saying the words. he gets it of course.
“cause i don’t want you puking at a party meant for you. so eat it please.” he kisses the back of your head dramatically and you could already tell just how drunk he was.
humourlessly, you let out a small laugh and shake your head. but you don’t miss when grayson catches roy’s eye. he tilts his head and mouths something that you would’ve missed if his distraction had worked. roy looks to grayson and shrugs, and his words you can make out.
i don’t know.
“girl,” donna snaps you out of your trance. “you look too good to stand around. dragging you out of the kitchen by your wrists.
you’re still sipping your drink as she pulls you over, needing the liquid courage to get you right to cope with this. she’s pulling you into the empty space and starting to dance a little while you rest your drink on the table. swaying her hips next to yours and humming thoughtfully to the song.
“come on!” she laughs and you can’t help but laugh too.
the liquid swirling you with more confidence as you start to raise your hands and let the beat thump through your body. slowly, you bring your arms up and up your body, swaying and letting your hair fall behind you. donna’s got her hands on your hips experimentally, moving you around and whooping. you play along and grind on her like she’s your man here. then you see stephanie and cassandra just lounging by the couches and you gesture them over.
they rise and dance with eachother, inching closer until all you could smell radiating off of everyone nearby was the intoxicating marijuana and alcohol that ruined you like no other.
but the name didn’t stick, and the blunt from between cassandra’s fingers made its way to your lips as she placed it there. smiling at you and loudly saying, “i’m glad you left your house smarty pants.”
you roll your eyes and blow out the smoke, the sensations intensifying as you grew more intoxicated. leaning closer to her face, you whisper yell, “why don’t you go dance with your girlfriend yeah?”
cassandra laughs and offers you another hit that you so gracefully accept, twirling as you take a long drag and pass it back over. she moves her way back towards stephanie and does the same in putting the blunt between her lips. you catch stephanie hollowing her cheeks and urging her closer, blowing the smoke right in her mouth.
you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that rose inside you. what they had, you wanted so badly. you practically had it with jason, but now your here swirling in your thoughts because a smell and an action now attributed itself to him in your mind. slowly you sway over and slow your dancing, the thoughts filling you up in a way you hated.
a hand grazes your side and spins you to face them. a smile on his face that practically echoed his intentions.
“hey gorgeous.” hal greets you. “you look real good.”
you blink up at him, a little tipsy and definitely a little high. the cross fade making you open enough to lower your inhibitions. you smile back.
“hi hal, so do you.” letting his hands go around your waist so he could move with you slowly.
the people around you are grinding on eachother, but you knew well enough that that’s not why you wanted. instead, you move his hands that travelled lower and place them on your waist. he doesn’t even question it and lets you use him for support as you grabbed your cup and took another sip.
from the corner of your eye you see a girl touching up on a guy, his back turned so all you could see was the ripple of hard muscle under his shirt. but the way he moved was too familiar.
your breath hitched as you watched the scene unfold.
the redheaded girl dragged her hand down his chest as he turns to the side, one of his hands hovering over hers and the other flat at his side. she’s mouthing something close to his ear and he tilts his head to hear it. the air from the room felt like it was being sucked out as you saw his face. the girl giggles as jason whispers back, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest.
quickly you turn away and take a giant gulp. unknowingly you had been gripping at hal’s chest and he had just let you. his eyes followed where yours had led and he frowns slightly as you pull away to down your drink.
“you okay?” he suddenly asks.
you clear your throat. “yeah, i’m fine,” fake smiling to sell your words.
“don’t do that,” he rasps in your ear. “it’s okay to still love him.”
that takes you back and you look up to him, his hands still locked around your waist.
“what?” you quietly say.
he smiles like it’s the easiest thing. “you heard me. it’s not a crime to be in love. hell, he’s a lucky guy to have a girl like you.”
the implication made your face burn. he knew you’d been in love with jason all this time, but he didn’t want to make you feel bad about it.
your lips part as you rasp his name as though in apology. though hal just shakes his head.
“it’s okay, i’m fine. i knew you liked him all this time, i kinda thought i could get you to understand there was more out there. part of me just always knew.” smiling sweetly.
taking a moment to look into his eyes, you gauge his sincerity. hal only mirrors everything he said because he meant it deeply, and that somehow made it worse. you feel your heart twist.
“i’m sorry,” voice breathy as you purse your lips.
he just smiles and shakes his head, looking up to where jason was before he spins you around. “let’s dance over there yeah?”
feeling his energy shift, you frown at him and turn around anyways. and you could feel your heart breaking into couple dozen pieces. the girl had her hands in his hair as though they’d just kissed, and you’re standing here feeling like an idiot as she runs her fingers through jason’s hair.
suddenly this party didn’t feel so fun anymore. a small sigh escapes you as you abruptly turn back around to hal, hand touching his chest like you needed it to keep you sane. he clasps his hand over yours and tilts your head up at him.
“it’s okay,” he whispers close by your ear. “you can show him what he’s missing.”
before you could ask what he’d met, he lowers his face to yours and presses his lips against you. a gentle peck meant to prove something that you weren’t even sure you wanted to show. a muffled sound of surprise gets swallowed by his as he deepens the kiss, opening one of his eyes just to see if jason was looking. you feel him smile against your lips as your wide eyes watch his, looking past you to ensure that jason knew exactly what he meant by what he’d been missing.
jason never wanted to come to this party. he’d told grayson as much when called him and told him to stay longer at the cottage because he didn’t want him to bother you.
he was happy for you of course. the fact that you’d gotten into the school of your choice and got what you’d deserve was everything he could have ever hoped for. you were the one person he was sure deserved every part of this.
though jason couldn’t stay in those four walls any longer and not think about how close he was to having you again.
the memories rang like church bells on a sunday morning. there was no escaping it.
now he’s come back to the frat house to go rot in his room when he found that someone already made their way up here and stole his bong. entirely annoyed and grumpy over many different reasons, he made his way downstairs, still in his black tee and grey sweatpants like he didn’t belong there.
as soon as he’s met with the scent of alcohol, jason grimaces from the last time he’d been drinking and recalled the events. he moves his way towards the living room to get away from all the things mixed in the punch that’s was in the kitchen.
though only two steps into the living room, he sees you—dancing. a slight wick of sweat on your brow as you moved carefree, hands on your friends shoulders while her hands were in the air. the way you moved was intoxicating enough for him. the air tightened and the room quieted as he saw you there and jason felt himself moving closer without even realizing, just magnetized to you especially now.
he made it a point to see who else was nearby, watching stephanie take cassandra’s hand and dance closer. then he averted his gaze to the men by the wall and saw the one person he definitely didn’t want to see.
hal fucking jordan.
the blood in his veins boiled for reasons he didn’t want to voice. something tore through his skin like it wanted to break free and grab him by the collar. part of jason wanted to physically fight him, no reason than for how close he’d gotten to you. but you kissed him. or maybe hal kissed you. either way jason knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t kiss him if you didn’t like him or at least didn’t see it heading that way.
jason sighs lowly as he sees hal down the rest of his cup and make his way over to you.
maybe he should get to you first, he thought.
no, you’re happy. at least you looked happy.
he talks himself out of it just as hal touches your hip. still halfway through lunging at him, someone touches jason’s shoulder and he turns to see roy standing next to a redheaded girl.
“jason, my friend here said she thinks you’re good looking.” straight to the point, roy says.
the girl smiles sheepishly, “hi.” her voice hoarse like she’d drank too much already. inebriated enough to have no social awareness.
roy smiles and steps behind her, shooting a wink at jason before leaving them to it. jason cusses under his breath before she drags her hand down his chest.
“woah, you’re like really fit.” giggling as she traces her hands down his pecks.
laughing uncomfortably, he takes her hands gently off his chest. “uh, thanks. did you come here with your friends?”
she hums and leans closer to him, the heady scent of alcohol on her breath as she gets closer. “they don’t mind though. do you mind?”
he looks over her shoulder to see hal with his hands around your waist, speaking in your ear too intimately for his comfort. he tenses at the action but watches as you do the same, your hand at your side clenching and your nails digging into your palms. watching as you bite your lip, not in the way he loved when you wanted him to touch you, but as though you were uncomfortable.
jason turns his attention back to her as she loops her fingers through his belt loops and quickly grabs her hands.
“woah, woah.” still uncomfortably laughing as he presses her hands to her stomach trying hard to keep her away. then he lets her go. “easy.”
“what?” she giggles, running her hands up his back and through his hair. “you got a girlfriend or something?”
immediately he nods, “yeah actually i’m supposed to go meet her so.” he backs up and takes her hands off him once again.
jason looks left and right and spots roy watching from afar. a stupid grin on his face as he waves at jason. giving him an annoyed look, jason gestures him closer and he reluctantly comes. feet slow as he approaches like jason’s an animal that could pounce on him at any moment.
“hey you two,” he points. “you guys alright?”
jason’s scoffs, “yeah asshole. can you make sure she gets to her friends? i don’t think she should be alone this off drunk.”
the girl scoffs too, “i’m perfectly fine actually.”
he shoots her a look before looking back to roy. the girl waves him off annoyed and moves behind roy to text on her phone. though roy puts his hand over his shoulder and sighs.
“look man, i was just trying to help. i mean she’s moved on, i feel like you should too. get laid and get over her y’know?” gripping his shoulder tight with one hand.
“no,” jason shakes his head. “i’m perfectly fine how i am, thanks.”
“i don’t know dude. i feel like all this yearning isn’t healthy.” roy shrugs and sips his beer.
jason pulls his arm off of him and sideeyes roy like he’s personally offended him. “hal said they kissed, sure, but i don’t think she really likes him like that.”
“really?” roy says with a grimace on his face, pointing ahead as he stares. “are you sure about that?”
“what do you mean?”
heart pounding in his chest as he follows roy’s gaze to where you stood. reality felt like it had sped through fast and time was slipping from between his fingers. the music faded like a dramatic movie as he watched hal, kissing you.
his lips parted as he watched, mouth gape and his hands balled into fists.
his filthy hands touched your chin and pulled you closer while the other rested on your waist. he watched as he deepened the kiss and leaned closer into you, back arching slightly as your hand unclenched and opened in the air.
taking the beer from roy’s hand, jason abruptly turns. “you have my car keys no?” he suddenly asks.
roy stammers, pulling the keys from his pocket, “yeah but, are you okay? considering what you just saw—”
jason grabs the keys and walks away quickly. making his way through the crowd and out to the garage, shutting the door behind him shut.
it was clear to him now—you were happier without him around.
—
only the loud bass and the thumping in your chest could be heard from between you. parting from hal, your hand immediately went up to your mouth. cupping your lips and wiping them unintentionally as you blinked up at him.
“what was that for?” huffing as you stared at him.
“what? i thought you wanted him to know you’re okay without him too.” he furrows his brows.
horrified, you turn around to where jason stood and find him nowhere to be seen. you flicker your gaze over the crowd, over the people, over the dancing bodies and the smoke filled air—but nothing. jason wasn’t here anymore.
he was leaving again.
you push slightly as hal’s chest. “i know you mean well but, i didn’t want him to think—”
“shit,” hal interrupts, his hand at the back of his own neck rubbing soothingly. “i just assumed. fuck, i’m really sorry, i thought… i should’ve asked.”
you were sure you had tears in your eyes now. the thought of jason having to see you with someone else made you feel like your blood had frozen over.
you stammer as you back away from him. “i have to find him.”
in recognition, he nods. “yeah, of course. i can explain it to him if anything.”
but you’ve already run from the living room, storming through the crowd like a madwoman. pushing past the drunk people in the hallway and storming up the stairs to his room.
you put the door open and jason isn’t there. just as fast as you went up, you ran back down, heart thumping in your ears as you caught a glimpse of roy sitting on the couch with the same girl as earlier in his lap. you stride right over to them.
“roy,” you gasp. “where’s jason?”
immediately he sees the raw emotion on your face. the way the colour seemed to drain from it and how you seemed like you were about to throw up from the looks of it. his expression shifts from the flirty front he puts on into the friendly, caring one he only recently exposed to you.
he nods slowly. “he took his car keys from me and left. he didn’t say where though i’m sorry.”
the girl in his lap tilts her head at you, clearing sizing you up. “isn’t that the grump tall guy? girl don’t even bother, he said he’s got a girlfriend.”
the pang in your chest only tightens as you realized he didn’t even kiss this girl. he told her he had a girlfriend and you knew there was no one else. he was talking about you. and now he’s seen you seemingly making out with hal in his brothers frat and everything fell into place. like pieces of a puzzle that was horribly mixed up.
roy snaps you out of it when he speaks up.
“i parked in the garage if that helps.” his lips in a small frown like he were sorry.
you nod as you back away and head straight for the garage door. feeling tears welling in your eyes and a pit in your stomach as you inch closer.
what if he left already?
what if he’s come to the conclusion that this was all too hard to deal with and he was better off just finding someone new when he got one of those grad schools across the country?
part of you felt guilty now for ever even trying with hal when you don’t feel the spark you desperately craved from one person. but you kept telling yourself you should try. that jason was ignoring you because he had already decided for the both of you.
by the time you get to the door and push it open, you feel entirely sober by his car still there.
you sigh in relief as you get to the passenger seat and yank it open. sitting in the chair quickly and shutting the door behind you just to find jason sitting there gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding him right now.
your name on his tongue was sweeter than it should’ve been on these circumstances.
“what’re you doing here?” he sighs. “should you be in there?”
steadying yourself you purse your lips and bite your tongue. jason furrows his brows and tilts his head at you.
“hey,” making you turn to him still unable to entirely meet your gaze. “are you okay?”
you nod as your lip trembles. how do you tell him that you’re madly in love with him and even with a new, perfect guy, all you can imagine is jason.
his demeanor shifts at your inability to respond.
“did he,” jason starts. “did hal fucking hurt you?”
“no, jason.” picking at your nails and sighing. “he didn’t do anything wrong.”
then, slowly, he nods as if in realization. face slipping back to the same blank compliance as before. “right. he’s your boyfriend, sorry.”
“he’s not my boyfriend jason.” you snap. “god, you ignore me all week and then you make think you’re making out with some random girl.”
projecting like you weren’t the one kissing someone else. though that’s besides the point.
“hey, i wasn’t kissing anyone.” flickering his eyes over your face, taking in the way your skin paled. “i swear, i didn’t.”
“why not?” unable to hide the way your voice broke. “i mean i hurt you. i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to write me off.”
that makes him scoff more harshly than he intended. “why would i do that when i have…” stopping himself. “when i don’t want them?”
his response only makes you feel worse though the way he was holding himself back from admitting the truth, it only makes you want it more.
“why not?” the words come out small.
jason furrows his brows. “why?”
“yeah,” you look at him, tears still glazing over your eyes. “why not?”
“because,” he stammers. “there’s no timeline on moving on. you can do whatever you want so i can also take my time no?”
“please, you’ve been avoiding me like a sickness and staring at hal like he kicked your dog.”
clenching his jaw, jason sighs heavily. “that’s not true.”
“isn’t it?” scoffing as you watch the side of his face. “you hate me and him and it’s my fault.”
groaning out your name like it hurt to say, “i don’t hate you. i could never hate you.”
“then why are you ignoring me?” you ask, interrupting him before he can do it to you. “and why aren’t you coming to class? or ever here when come to see grayson or hal—”
but that clearly pushed a button and jason snaps.
“because i can’t fucking stand him!” he raises his voice.
the sound taking you aback and a small scoff escapes past your lips as you watch him breathe heavier. nodding your head, you turn completely towards him in your seat and tuck a foot under your knee just to look directly at his face.
“you could stand him perfectly fine a couple weeks ago when he wasn’t going out with me.” crossing your arms as you stare at him.
his head shakes as he grips the steering wheel tightly. “it’s not that simple and you know it.”
“oh please, enlighten me then jason.” you press on, entirely over this situation and needing him just as badly as you wanted to hate him.
“you—” he starts and stops again.
you’re watching him as he shuts his eyes and lets out a deep exhale. suddenly he looks up to your side and trails his gaze over your face, lifting his fingers towards you like he’s twitching just to touch you.
in his eyes, you find the same adoration you’ve always loved, but now it’s accompanied by a bitter taste. he presses on.
“when i see you with him, i feel like i’m suffocating. like the air around me has been sucked away and i can’t do anything about it cause i did it to myself.”
parting your lips as you watch him confess what he’s hidden for weeks, you listen. brows upturning as he shakily breaths out your name.
“it’s selfish, i know. you’re your own person and i ruined us with all the lies. so you’re more than allowed to date other people. i just can’t… i—i can’t be around it. i won’t.” gulping as he looks at your hands in your lap now, wanting badly to hold them in his. “i know there’s too much baggage between us and i i hurt you but part of me thought we’d figure it out?”
his tone upturned at the end as though he’d contemplated within himself before voicing it.
“—is that why you’re leaving?” interrupting his thoughts and barely concealing the emotions that threatened to spill over. “because of me?”
something in his eyes seem to soften then, flickering and fanning out like all hope had dissipated.
his voice is quiet and unsure as he rasps. “what?”
“you don’t have to lie jason and you sure as shit don’t have to avoid me like the plague. i just wanted to feel wanted like a person and not a fucking prize.” slow tears slipping down your warm cheeks. “you never told me you were going to leave me though.”
taking a large gulp, he shakes his head. “i was never going to leave you.”
but you’re shaking your head. “i know you applied to grad schools across the country and i know you got it. i just can’t understand why you hid that part from me.”
furrowing his brows like he’s trying to understand where you got to that conclusion, he looks deep in thought. then recognition flickers behind his eyes and he leans closer, clasping your hands in his. staring into your eyes like he were sorry. you sniffle as he takes your hands and try not to sob at how royally you’d felt like you’d fucked this up.
“bruce told you at gordon’s event didn’t he? fuck, i wanted to be the one to do it.” he searches your face when you look down into your lap. though jason follows your head and tilts his. “i’m sorry. i said no more lies and i hid this.”
he leans even closer, enough to smell your perfume and the slight intoxicating scent of lingering weed illuminating between you. jason sighs and holds back his own emotions. “i feel like i’m always apologizing to you like an idiot.”
between quiet sniffles you find yourself leaning closer to him, searching unconsciously for comfort. you lean your head onto his shoulder.
“you’re not an idiot. i just can’t stand to lose you jay.” the quiet admission slips.
immediately he cradles your head there, leaning his own head on top of yours and gently touching your cheek. he whispers a small shaky noise that sounded to your name before he takes a shallow breath.
“you’re allowed to be happy. if he’s making you happy then i want that for you.”
you pull away to look at him, the motion evident all over your face now that he could see it again.
“damn it jason, i’m not fucking happy! i didn’t move on,” elevating your voice like you were speaking to yourself more than him. probably still more intoxicated than you felt. “i don’t love hal. i don’t, love anyone else but—” you cut yourself off.
the car suddenly feels a lot smaller. the doors seemingly doing nothing to make you feel closer to jason despite how close you say next to another. the silence stretched for what felt like minutes but was only seconds.
but jason, his eyes were glued to yours.
“you love someone else?” voice small as he carefully watches you. waiting patiently for you to fill in blanks he desperately wanted to be right about.
slowly, you nod as a tear slips down your face. “you jason. it’s you.”
his hands touch your face delicately. thumb grazing over the warm tear as he held you close. from how close you say now, you could see the tears welling in his eyes and the relief that flooded as he switched between your eyes.
“you love me?” breathlessly, he said.
unable to say anything through your broken tears, a sob breaks out as you nod. jason presses his forehead to yours and whispers your name, over and over like he’s counting his blessings.
“please,” he rasps, “please say it. i want to hear it ma, please.”
between sobs, you melt against him. tearing wetting your lashes and his skin.
“i love you jason todd. i love you so much that it’s causing me physical pain.” laughing a little at the end as he joins you.
“yeah baby? well, the feeling is mutual and i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything or anyone.” gazing into your eyes like it held the key to all of his prayers.
pulling you closer like there wasn’t a dashboard between you. all resolve crumbs as you climb over it and into his lap, straddling him tight. his hand grazes over you hair and pushes it back as he makes you face him, wiping the tear streaks from your skin. he shushes you as you sniffle.
“don’t cry baby, i’m not leaving. i’m never leaving you again. you hear me?” kissing your cheeks as you pull at his shirt. “i didn’t pick a school yet. i haven’t chosen one because i can’t breathe if you’re not close.”
you hum as you pull at his shirt again, tugging him closer and letting him lean you against the steering wheel. pulling his hair back to watch his handsome face smile up at you. your eyes flicker to his lips and he smiles brightly as he drops his hands to your thighs, kneading the plush there.
“you want something princess?” teasing despite the circumstances.
you can’t help but laugh and roll your eyes. “just kiss me already jason.”
“for you? anything.”
then he’s on you, pressing his perfect lips to yours. it feels like your floating over yourself as he deepens it, holding you tight against him as shops his tongue down your throat. you him into his mouth, moaning lowly as you hips mindlessly shift against him. jason groans and bucks his hips slightly, biting your lip to make the sweet sound slip past your lips and to his ears.
“baby,” he rasps against your mouth.
though you don’t part, instead you tug at his shirt and pull up the hem. jason gets the message immediately, letting you pull it up enough for him to take it off all the way. his shirt is off when you trail your fingers down his abs, touching the hard muscle that you missed like a pillow. you graze your fingers up and down while you kiss down his jaw, eliciting a gorgeous moan from him that felt like music to your ears.
fumbling with your skirt while you undid his belt, you could feel how hard he was beneath you.
“are you sure?” breathlessly he says while you nip up by his ear.
nodding, you moan against his skin, biting the love and kneading it with your teeth.
“yeah jay.” you rasp. “i need you.”
it’s enough to spur him further, hiking up your skirt as you push his jeans down with his boxers. you feel his hard length against your bare inner thigh, painfully hard and leaking in your need.
he’s moving to pull your panties down when you stop him, taking his hand and guiding him to push them to the side instead. urgency in your movements as you watch the realization in his eyes. jason only smiles as you guide his length to press against you. the message is clear as he nods and kisses you again, pecking your lips in little movements as though savouring you.
then you’re pressing down against him, mouth parting as you take him. seating yourself down as he holds you, guiding your hips when you try to take him at once. jason stops you before you try to let him all the way in. he sighs like he’s straining himself.
“breathe baby,” gulping as sweat wicks his forehead. “no rush. breathe. it’s all yours yeah? i’m all yours.”
you nod as you lean forward again, capturing his lips and lapping at him. he tightens his hold on you as you tilt your head, pressing him further into his seat as you begin to shift your hips. sinking further down against him, jason guides you there.
he doesn’t thrust up into you when you take him completely. instead, he parts from your lips, letting you breathe with a line of spit between you from how desperately you both needed eachother. jason groans lowly as you continue to shift your hips, dropping his head against the seat as praises escape from your lips.
“so good jay,” whining as you bounce against him. “you’re so perfect baby.”
jason returns the whine and bites his lip. this only excites you further, knowing how it pushes his buttons and turns him on. you know your man. grinding against him harder, you moan as he kneads your ass in his palms. little moans and words of affirmation as the signs of him losing himself made you want it more.
“i love you,” he moans helplessly, saying your name over and over. “god, i love you so much.”
“i love you too baby.” you whisper against his lips. “you’re so good. fuck, you’re so big.”
he makes another whimpering sound, his hips stuttering against yours as your movements only grew wilder.
“shit baby, don’t say that. i’m gonna lose it.” groaning as he throws his head back again, entirely lost in the feeling of you.
the peak was creeping over on you too. you could feel yourself there, sensitive enough to let go, but not enough to get him there first. hips moving in tandem with yours as he bucked up into you.
“good,” you sighed dreamily, smiling down at jason who’s just barely keeping it together. “i want you to let go.”
“oh fuck,” he moans.
he bites his lip so hard you think he’s gonna make it bleed. fingers digging into your thighs like an anchor. another whimpering sound that grew into a moan as he dropped his head to your chest. lazily grinding against you as he held you tight against him.
“please jay,” knowing exactly what you were doing. voice breathy and seductive. “i wanna feel it inside me.”
the response is immediately as he sputter and loses all semblance of himself. his hips buck up, once, twice, and he hold it deep inside you. letting go and painting you inside as he made swallow thrusts.
the feeling crashes over you too as soon as you feel it, crying out as he held you through it, guiding your hips still. he makes sure to rock you through your peak, lazily grinding as you gasped for air.
coming down while he kept you close, collapsed against his chest. melting into him while he caught his breath. jason sucks in a sharp breath and sighs. his spent leaking onto his lap and he didn’t care.
“i meant it.” he admits while you’re still reeling.
you hum quietly to tell him to continue.
“that i love you. that i’m never leaving you.” already kissing your dampened hair as he remained seated inside you.
“i meant it too,” you croaked, entirely spent. “i love you jason todd.”
the smile on his face could be felt through your hair, and he laughed as he tightened his hold around you. almost crushing but you couldn’t care less if you tried.
“so,” his voice still sounded unsure like he was gauging your opinion and didn’t want to overstep. “does this mean i can call you my girlfriend now?”
putting a hand to his chest to lift yourself, you look him in the eyes. squinting as you smack his chest lightly.
“i’ll kill you if you don’t.”
a slow smile creeps over his handsome face. the expression only makes you want to jump his bones again like he wasn’t hardening inside of you all over again. jason cups your cheek and pulls you in for another sloppy, wet kiss. slipping his tongue past your lips and biting your lip as he parts.
“good. cause i’m gotham u offers a good criminology masters program and i’m thinking of accepting it.” pressing his lips to your nose and to your forehead as you giggle.
then his word click and you gasp. “gotham u?”
he nods dreamily with his eyes half lidded, watching you. “well if my girlfriend is still going there then—”
“yes!” you shove him further into his seat, taking the turn to kiss all over his face. “a million times yes. don’t you dare,” speaking between kisses, “change your mind.”
he pinches your side so you stop and leans his forehead against yours again. either hand on the sea of your face like he was trying to memorize how you felt and brand it to his skin. jason stared lovingly into your eyes and you felt it, deeply.
for the first time in months, you felt love unconditionally and unapologetically reciprocated.
“i wouldn’t dream of it princess.” eyes twinkling as he stared at you.
looking into his eyes, the future didn’t feel so scary anymore.
i’d like to apologize for how long you had to wait for this. i am currently battered and bruised but i feel super accomplished now that this is done too. nerdystoner!jason i love you!
Summary: People have some really weird thoughts, but no one ever checked if they were confidential.
Word count: 2.1k
Contains: humor & mostly implied smut. Clark can hear people’s dirty thoughts. Sex pollen-esque... dubious substance. Embarrassment, teasing, smutty topics. *grinding.
A/N: just a short one… didn’t try to make this beautiful, just played with the idea bc this was so funny to me. ending is, of course, left open for your own dirty mind to imagine… see i’m a genius guys see
—————————— ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊——————————
It had to be that powder he inhaled. Had to be. Nothing else could explain it.
He knew he shouldn’t have done that stupid job. Ollie insisted on it, of course. The idiot swore to him that if he only broke into the lab and got the hostage scientists out, the League would round up the rest. He promised that there wasn’t anything Clark had to be careful about, no dangerous substances or valuable equipment. Even when he pressed on what they were making in that lab, Ollie had dismissed him with a smirk and said, Just do the job, Big Blue, and save the day, okay? And now he knew he should have never listened. God, Ollie could be such a prick sometimes, always keeping something from him.
It had to be then. When he flew through the glass wall and shattered it. He remembered scooping up the hostages and shielding them behind his body to absorb the bullets raining from the kidnappers; they were in the rafters of the lab. He managed to grab one who hopped down and flung him across a table, and a few vials shattered. Clark watched for a split second as a pink powder plumed into the air, and suddenly the scientists were screaming and running for their lives through the glass. Clark didn’t waste another moment, he simply blew a big puff of air to knock the remaining attackers down around the top of the room, and he swept away, leaving the scene for Ollie’s guys to comb.
He should’ve known when everyone started running that he’d released something in the air. Only scientists would be afraid of something inside a vial. And now he was suffering the side effects of it. Very, very loudly.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Huh? I didn’t say anything,” the cashier flushed. “Just… waiting for her order.”
As you stood beside him, arm looped through his and studying the menu at the coffee cart, Clark felt his neck burning. The girl behind the station was not hiding her curious eyes well, and he could’ve just sworn he heard a string of words come out of her mouth that were entirely inappropriate. They rang in his ears clear as day: “God, what a lucky bitch. I can’t believe she gets to fuck this guy, he looks huge.”
The girl’s mouth didn’t move. He was staring right at her. Yet, he heard the words. There was no doubt someone said them. Clark did a quick scan of the street, but they were the only people on line. The voice was close, so it had to be her. You wouldn’t have reason to say something like that. He scratched the nape of his neck in confusion.
After a minute of hard decision, you smiled at the cart girl and asked, “Could I get that horchata cold brew? That sounds so good!”
“Absolutely,” she nodded curtly, giving Clark an unusual glance before turning the card reader over for him to swipe. “I’ll get that started for you.”
As the girl shifted to make their drinks, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Did you hear what she said?”
“What do you mean?”
“Before you ordered. She said something really, like, vulgar,” Clark winced.
You chuckled softly, furrowing your brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure? She seems sweet.”
“She does,” Clark pulled away, chewing the inside of his cheek. “It’s probably nothing.”
When the cart girl handed over his black coffee and your sugary concoction, he gave her a restrained grin. When you tugged his hand back in the direction of the Daily Planet, though, he heard the same voice again, almost as if it was against his neck: “Man, he is just unreal. She better take advantage of all that.”
Clark’s entire body tensed with shock. There was definitely, definitely something in that powder. His hips ached.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
The next one was even worse, because it was Cat who had the next word. Cat Grant, who was equally impaired by the stick up her ass as she was willing to flirt with every man in her eyeline, was leaning over your desk and checking a story edit. When Clark came by to offer you a refill on your water, she smiled up at him.
“So attentive,” she teased. “I never thought I’d see the day Clark Kent stopped fumbling files and started dating coworkers."
“Hello to you, too, Cat.”
You kissed his wrist as he patted your cheek and handed him your bottle. “I’d like that, actually. Thanks, Clarkie.”
Clark felt mushy for a moment at the name, and as he moved to step toward the water cooler, he heard Cat say, “Clarkie? God, that’s lame. I’d be calling him Daddy or something, at least.”
Clark whirled around quickly and sputtered at the blonde. “What did you just say?”
Both yours and Cat’s heads flicked up, wide eyes peering at him like a couple of spooked meerkats. Cat frowned. “What?”
“What you just said,” he pointed at her accusingly. “That– you can’t say stuff like that! We’re at work!”
Cat snickered and quirked an eyebrow. “I think you need to get your ears checked. I didn’t say anything, Kent."
He huffed in exasperation at you, but you were no help. You seemed completely confused by his behavior. Confused and so cute, all tucked into your dress and waiting for your stupid water refill. Clark grumbled, “Forget it,” and walked away.
As he stood idly at the water station and watched the bottle fill, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering towards what other names you might call him if prompted. His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
It only got more ridiculous as the day dragged on. Almost everybody at work had something entirely insane to say about you and him together– or rather, think. None of them were speaking at all, he discovered. He was hearing their thoughts. That was the only explanation. That powder gave him the ability to read people’s minds, and he was horrified. People were so much more perverted than he imagined.
When you stopped for groceries on the way home to work, the cashier– some teenage boy with a nice zit right on his nose– thought, “Man, I bet he puts her through the mattress.”
The girl who lived two apartments over was getting her mail out of the lockboxes in the lobby when they came through the front door. After a brief and courteous hello from you both, she thought, “I wonder what position they do it in most… he seems like a doggy guy.”
And then again, when they were walking up the stairs, she followed them up, and Clark heard, “I’d do anything to see them fuck. It’s probably so hot.”
By the time Clark got into the apartment, he was sweating and embarrassingly hard. He’d been fighting it off all day, but after hearing so many ideas and seeing so many mental images of you and him doing nefarious deeds, he couldn’t keep up. He was still half-human, after all, and desperately in love with you, and not to mention incredibly weak. Only so many people can be indirectly told how fuckable their girlfriend is before they collapse under the weight.
He got to work putting the groceries away, hands eager and somewhat trembling as he ushered you out of the kitchen. You smiled suspiciously, hanging your coat by the door, and you leaned in the archway. “What’s gotten into you today?”
“What do you mean?” he muttered shortly, stocking the fridge. He hadn’t even taken his coat off. It was… disguising him.
You studied his jerky movements in the low light. Clark never acted like this, so clumsy and jumpy. He could be awkward here and there, but he’d left behind the bumbling act a while ago. Something had to be bothering him, you were sure of it. You crossed your arms. “You’ve been acting off all day. Accusing people of saying things they never said, blushing, stammering… what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he lied, pushing a few cereal boxes into the cabinet over the counter. “I’m fine.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“I’m not hiding anything, really! I mean it!”
Clark knew it wouldn’t be long before you found out. He was an awful faker. He stared at you, shifting his weight between his feet, fussing with the buttons on his jacket. He could feel your smirk burning into him like a brand.
You thought to yourself, You don’t want to tell me? Fine. I guess I’ll shower alone then. “Okay. Just don’t forget to put the eggs on the top shelf. I’m gonna go wash up.”
Clark nearly whimpered at your conflicting tones. You wouldn’t press him, you never did, but now he knew that you were sassing him behind those eyes, thinking of punishments, judging his actions. The erection in his pants was painful enough to make him see stars. He shoved the eggs in the fridge carelessly before following you. You didn’t make it halfway down the hall before he was grabbing you up and pressing a hungry kiss to your lips.
“Mmf!” You squeaked, startled by his sudden ferocity. “Clark– hey!”
“I breathed something in,” he panted, hands tugging at your blouse, slightly tearing the seams.
“What?” You wriggled, trying to stop him from ripping the shirt clean off. His pupils were so large you couldn’t even see the blue in his eyes, and his cheeks were so dark they could’ve been purple. “Clark, easy!”
Clark whined pathetically and buried his face in your neck, licking at the skin. Something terrible was overcoming him. All those thoughts, all the time spent alone inside his head today with you, it was making him insane. He worried that the powder was influencing his hormones. He didn’t want to hurt you. And then again, he was worked up after eight incredibly jarring hours. Maybe any man would lose his mind.
“The other night," he groaned, tasting the salt of your skin and nearly blacking out. “That lab rescue– mm– with Ollie. Breathed something in, some powder… can hear people’s thoughts.”
It was hard to listen when he latched onto the weak spot behind your ear, but your concern still radiated. “Wait, you what? Why didn’t you say anything?” Fucking idiot, you thought.
“Don’t call me an idiot,” Clark smiled against your neck.
Your heart dropped like it weighed a ton. “You heard that?”
“Mhm.”
“...Woah,”
“Yeah, woah,” Clark laughed, but then he scooped you up by the thighs. The throbbing of his cock against your leg was quite apparent now, and your lashes fluttered through an onset of desire. “All day, been hearing things… people think about us…”
As he barged into the bedroom and tossed you down, you yelped and erupted in laughter. Clark crawled over you as you inquired, “Like what?”
“People are disgusting,” he offered, yanking your body free of that shirt-and-pants prison. You frowned as he tore the clothes, but he’d buy you more, he always did. “They see us together and think about what we do. When we’re alone.”
You gasped as he reattached himself, teeth sinking into the meat of your chest. Your fingers sunk into his hair. “Like about us sleeping together?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, helping you unbutton his shirt. “Perverts.”
“I think you’re the pervert,” you grinned, dragging him up to get another look at that wild face. “You listened.”
“I didn’t have a choice!”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be so horny if it bothered you,” you squinted playfully. “You liked it. What did they say?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Clark laughed incredulously.
“Why not? Come on!”
“Because it’s– it’s wrong! You shouldn’t hear what people think about you! Besides, what they– you’re– no,” he stuttered, flushing darker than should be possible, even for a Kryptonian.
Your smile widened. “They must have thought some dirty things about me if you’re so embarrassed."
Clark hid in your shoulder, grinding helplessly against your thigh.
“About you?”
Clark’s hips stuttered.
“Oh, baby,” you giggled, “you are so hopeless.”
Clark studied the stars behind his eyelids as he rutted against your leg, whimpering like a dog. “I just really need you… I think I might explode, I don’t know if this is a side effect or what, but just– please.”
You scratched at the base of his neck and tilted your head. Then, because you were cruel and decided he deserved it for being so withholding, you thought very clearly: Show me what they thought. Fuck me like they imagined.
Clark’s head shot up, and you cackled at the pretty expression of surprise. It was all fun and games until he tossed you onto your stomach.
“Woah– oof!”
“You want to know what they wanted to see? Fine. Get on your knees.”
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Warnings: praise kink, hand pinning, sex while a literal crime is happening outside, reckless vigilante behavior, inspired by a scene in Narcos, MDNI
a/n: I fear Jason would actually do this in one of his more deranged moods. The others are probably more willing to leave you high and dry, finish the job, and come back later. Jason knows Bruce raised enough children to cover his ass.
Jason Todd is probably one of the few vigilantes who would rather finish what he started with you than rush off to help with the burning building caused by a car explosion a few streets away.
Don't start thinking that Jason doesn't care about Gotham. He loves Gotham, actually. Enough that the city has shaved years off his life and been the reason for his demise more than once. But does he care enough to pull out of the sweet, velvety walls of your pussy?
No, actually.
Bruce raised enough Bat-children for that particular reason.
You tried to get up when the first blast rattled the windows, but Jason was far faster. One broad hand caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head while the other dragged your ankle to its rightful place over his shoulder, rough fingers curling around your calf as he settled his weight over you again.
"Jason, you have to go. What even was that?"
"Car bomb," he practically purred, pushing the leaky tip of his cock back into your pussy like the explosion had been nothing more than a minor interruption.
You tried to form a protest. Really, you did. But your protest amounted to little more than slapping one of his biceps when he cooed about how wet you were for him. His hips moved in slow, lazy strokes, making it increasingly difficult to remember the rest of the lecture you had prepared for him.
Another siren screamed somewhere outside, followed by the distant crackle of fire and shouting. Red and blue light flashed through the broken blinds of his safehouse, moving over Jason's naked body in restless streaks. It illuminated the sweat running between his pecs and caught in the pale scars scattered across his chest as he folded you deeper beneath him.
His green eyes never left your face, not even when another siren joined the first, while Gotham continued doing what Gotham did best.
Falling apart.
"Y-you need to go, Jay," you insisted, forcing the words between the moans slipping from your lips as he continued hitting that weak spot
"In a minute," he answered with a wink and a firm squeeze around your wrists.
God, Jason could be mean when he wanted to be. Today just happened to be one of those days.
Apparently, a minute meant whenever he was finished pulling every pretty sound he could from your lips, listening to the wet drag of your pussy around his cock whenever he found the spot that curled your toes.
"Couldn't leave you like this. So needy," he muttered against your throat, planting a constellation of kisses along your skin. The scrape of his stubble followed each one, rough enough to leave you warm before his lips soothed over the same spot. "Look at you. So wet for me."
"Jay," you breathed.
His palm pressed against the bulge his cock made low in your stomach, buried so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. You had a perfectly good argument prepared about how wrong it was for him to still be inside you while people were probably panicking in the streets, but then he pushed your leg farther back and rolled his hips again, and suddenly civic responsibility became a very difficult concept to hold on to.
"Gorgeous," he mused against your throat, kissing the hollow beneath your collarbone.
He finally released your hands, only so you could claw at his broad shoulders while he cupped your breasts. Jason muttered under his breath about how soft you were and how perfectly your breasts fit into his palms while you melted beneath him.
"I know, baby." His thumb and forefinger circled your nipple as it budded beneath his touch with a soft tug. "Gotham's falling apart." His teeth grazed your throat, leaving behind a mark that would darken by morning. "It does that every night."
The radio on the floor beside his helmet and your overnight bag had been going off nonstop by then, voices overlapping through bursts of static.
"Red Hood, respond."
Tim.
"Hood, I didn't come to Gotham to pick up after you. Where the hell are you?"
Dick.
Obviously, Jason was far too occupied to turn off the radio or do anything about the situation outside.
His grip around your breast tightened as his thrusts grew harder, matching the desperate movement of your hips. The mattress shifted beneath you while he watched your face with an unbearably smug, yet adoring look.
"Pretty thing," he groaned, eyes falling shut as his dark brows pinched together. He muttered about how close he was before catching your mouth with his. "What if I just let the city burn for you, hm?"
A burst of gunfire cracked through the radio and echoed from two streets down, sharp enough to make you flinch and tighten around his cock. Jason only paused long enough to listen, still toying with your breast as he cocked his head slightly.
"Modified M4," he confirmed against your pout. Another burst followed, as did his hips. "Cheap suppressor, too."
The radio crackled again with several increasingly annoyed demands to know where he was. Jason groaned for an entirely different reason and pressed his forehead against yours. His fingers left your breast and slipped between your bodies, finding your clit with practiced ease.
Your back arched before you could stop it.
"There you go," he praised, his mouth brushing across your cheek. "That's it, dove. Let me feel you."
His roughened thumb moved in slow circles, cruel and steady.
"You gonna come on my cock?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. "That what you need?"
The words kept spilling out between kisses, each one rougher and more desperate than the last.
Then Dick mentioned something about tracking Jason's suit and dragging him out himself.
That finally got a reaction.
Not the reaction Dick wanted, obviously.
Jason hooked an arm around your waist and hauled you upright until you were straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your sides as he guided you down again.
"Then we'd better finish before he gets here."
"Jason, I swear to God - "
"Yeah?" His green eyes glinted beneath lowered lashes. "Tell him how good I make you feel."
You made an offended little noise, but Jason only laughed and caught your lower lip between his teeth before kissing you again.
"That's my baby," he murmured, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts grew meaner beneath you. Chest pressed against yours. The sound of skin hitting skin and all the lewd noises of your cunt filling the room. "So soft. So perfectly made for me. Don't know how you expect me to leave when you feel this good."
Outside, sirens wailed. The radio kept spitting out his name. Red light slid through the blinds while Gotham tried to tear itself apart a few streets away.
"You are genuinely the worst vigilante in Gotham."
"But I'm your favorite," Jason laughed as he pushed himself impossibly deeper.
You could bite, scratch, curse, and remind him that people were literally depending on him, but he answered every protest with another kiss and harsh thrust.
He was not leaving until both of you came.
And even then, Jason Todd had never been particularly good at stopping after one round.
i wanna ride clarks face teehee, i'm sure he'd be happy enough to oblige
pairing: clark kent x f!reader
words: 862
content: face-sitting! reader is kinda shy abt it at first
note: hope u enjoy! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
“Please?” Clark’s eyes don’t leave your own as he says it. They reflect in the low lamplight of the bedroom. You look away. It’s hard to think when he looks at you like that. “I understand if–”
You shake your head, wanting him to stop his thought so you can think. Your body feels warm and underneath his gaze, you could nearly melt. “It’s just–” Your fingers wrap up in the blanket beneath you. Nothing but your panties separate you from the softness of it under your touch. Your nervousness is not new with Clark. It just hasn’t sprouted up in awhile. You weren’t exactly shy or inexperienced. But Clark had a way of making you feel nervous. Well, maybe giddy was the right word. It was something about the broad expanse of him when he was underneath you or on top of you. The flex of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin, the smile he wore, the eye contact. It was the way he was attentive. How almost everything was about your pleasure. Because that’s exactly what got him off.
“I’ve never–” You stumble over your words, thighs rubbing together. Despite your apprehensiveness, you can’t ignore the way your panties sit uncomfortably against you. Clark’s eyes glance at the action. The tips of his ears go red from the sound of it, the slickness of it. “I’ve never, you know, sat on…” You clear your throat, a near whisper. “Sat on someone’s face.”
“Well, I’ve never had anyone do it to me, either.” He offers, trying to ease your anxiety. His hands sit on either side of your thighs.
You roll your eyes, fingers finding his hand to trace shapes over. “It’s not exactly the same thing, is it?” You tease.
He stumbles over his words, “Well, no, but,”
You laugh, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against the side of his mouth. “I’m just teasing you.” You swallow. Brave enough to meet his gaze again. “Okay.”
“Okay?” The grin overtakes his face again.
You can’t even remember why you were so nervous as soon as your thighs are on either side of Clark’s face. He wastes no time burying his face between your thighs. He had always loved going down on you, but this was an entirely different experience for him. The feeling of your body weight pressing down onto him. He supported your bottom half with his arms as his mouth nearly covered the entire length of your pussy, tongue teasing and licking down your slit. Your head lulled back at the feelings. “Clark, Clark, I–.”
“It’s okay, sweet girl. Just let go.” You were thankful for his strength. There was no way you could hold your body up with the feelings he was bringing forth, but it seems the more you let go, the more he does too. More of your body weight sinks down onto him making him grunt and moan against you like a man starved. His hands sit on the outside of your thighs, but have a mind of their own as they grip the fat of your thighs, your ass, your boobs. At the same time, his tongue dipping in and out of your wetness, nose nudging against your clit. “Come on, honey.” Your entire body is warm from his actions and hearing him speak against your pussy only turns you on more. “Grind against my mouth.” His hands match his words as fingers squeeze the flesh, helping you move your hips gently against his face as his tongue flicks against your clit. “So wet, sweetheart.” He praises, hands still moving your body as you fall apart on top of him. Fingers tangle in his dark hair, loving the way he looks completely wrecked beneath you. “Tastes so good, baby. So sweet. So pretty.” Even with his mouth full of pussy, he can’t help but compliment you. He knows what it does to you.
Sitting on Clark’s face has its advantages, you find. You can get the exact pressure and pace that you need to come undone. The nervousness has melted away into pure need as you work yourself against his mouth. “Oh gosh.” Clark doesn’t stop his minisrrations. He keeps the same speed, tongue working against you with ease. “I’m gonna come, Clark.”
Clark does find it even more difficult to have you this way. He can’t exactly ease the tension in his cock like he usually does when he’s eating you out. Typically, he’s grinding against the bed, but this time, the only thing that he has to take his mind away from it is to keep eating you out, tasting your sweetness. He swears he hears a gush when you come. He doesn’t stop even when you’re crying out from how sensitive you are, pussy hovering above his face now. His face chases you, pressing a kiss against your clit before you’re falling back against the bed with a breath. Every time you come, you go to hide your face, but Clark is quicker this time, body enveloping you as kisses press against your face.
“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Clark says it in an arrogant manner that has you slapping his arm.
yandere! bruce wayne x reader x yandere! clark kent
word count: 10k
synopsis: you've been cooped up in wayne manor for the past few months, courtesy of your new lovers. they've decided it's finally time to take your relationship to the next level whether you're ready or not.
You thought the silent treatment could save you. The childish shame and embarrassment that was aroused in you every time they twisted your words was crushing you. Two brilliant minds working in tandem to make you feel as small as they saw you. The good cop, bad cop dynamic rehearsed by Bruce and Clark left no room for your opinion. Arguing was pointless when all roads led to the same point, the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks as you accepted defeat. You felt they were hammering a point home to you — you were to be seen and not heard.
Your silence only made them more eager to correct you.
Your defeat in your circumstances was palpable, but you were determined to keep your sorrow to yourself. You thought they would be satisfied with your depressive acceptance, but they were determined to drag you out of that hole every time you tried to make peace with it. They wouldn’t even let you slowly rot away without their input, telling you it was this exact reason that they took it upon themselves to care for you. Escape was impossible; they made certain of it. You really tried to believe that you were just sparing yourself some pain by not fighting back.
Monday nights were the nights they promised to make time for you. A day where they would come home from their day jobs and play pretend with domesticity and normalcy. You were expected to play house, too, dressing up beyond your pajamas and sweatpants. They still have yet to give you a real pair of shoes, though.
You were sitting on the couch in between them, back nestled into Clark’s right side and feet outstretched into Bruce’s lap. They had positioned you the moment they sat down, hardly leaving enough space to breathe. The three of you were in Bruce’s study, listening to his old jazz vinyls as you nursed your drink.
Bruce swirled a neat Whiskey in a glass, unsipped, as he rubbed the heel and ball of your socked foot with his free hand. Clark had a hot chocolate, same as you, that was sitting on the coffee table, untouched. His right arm was slung over your shoulder while his left hand held yours, kneading his thumb into your palm. You held your mug close to you, keeping your mouth busy in hopes of not cracking under the pressure of Clark’s stare.
“How was your day, honey?” Clark asked with a soft smile, resting his head next to yours on the back couch cushion.
You shrugged, continuing to stare at the roaring fireplace in front of you. What was there to say to them? That you had lain around the manor all day, dreading the minutes until they came home? That you were steeling yourself to refuse to speak to them for another day? Bruce cleared his throat, looking up from your foot, and rested your toes in his palm. They tolerated non-answers less than wrong answers.
You looked over at Bruce, unable to hold your gaze with his before settling to look down at his lap. He had taken off his sports coat when he came home and was sitting with his dress shirt undone, three buttons and sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Clark had foregone his jacket and dress shirt entirely, wearing nothing but his slacks and his white undershirt. They both took their belts off in front of you. You were wearing a mockneck bodysuit and a long skirt with a pair of white socks.
You had started the day with more clothes, too, that they slowly began to peel off you. There was no need for a sweater, Bruce had said. The fireplace was waiting for you. Did you really need stockings on? Clark had asked. Layers in the house weren’t necessary. Piece by piece, they dressed you and themselves down until you assumed nothing would be left.
“Clark asked you a question,” Bruce said, sliding his hand up your leg to rest just under the hem of your skirt.
You looked back at the fireplace and just sighed, setting your drink down next to Clark’s still steaming mug. Shrugging again and sighing, you rested your head against the cushion next to Clark and looked at him. You hoped your moping act would help them drop the subject – puppy eyes always worked on Clark. To him, you had no bark or bite.
Clark’s gaze didn’t linger on you. The look they shared had you feeling queasy. They were so hard to read, but you could always tell when they were thinking – especially when they were thinking the same thing. Your quietness had run its course with them. You’re sure you’ve only made it this far because Clark told Bruce to let you work it out yourself. But you’ve learned that Clark’s patience runs much thinner when Bruce is in his ear. They were planning on making you talk; you just didn’t know how.
Bruce’s hand rubbed circles into your calf, slowly inching towards your thigh. He set his drink down next to yours, settling his free hand back on your foot. You closed your eyes and inhaled slowly, trying not to let panic seep into your bones. It was Clark who was touchy like this, yet he seemed content to keep his hands to himself for once and just watch. Bruce gently slid his hand under your sock, making it down to the ball of your foot before wiggling your sock off. You fought off a shiver of ticklishness and swallowed harshly.
Clark pressed his forehead to yours, humming softly as he brought the hand he was massaging up to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss on the tip of your pinky, still rubbing his thumb into the flesh of your palm. An easy smile reached his eyes as he kissed his way down your fingers. After he reached your thumb, he closed his eyes and placed your hand over his mouth, chastely kissing your palm.
Bruce brought your ankle to his lips, placing a wet kiss there. His hand was warm and weathered, heating your skin up through the fabric. Your skirt slid down to your upper thigh as Bruce put your heel on his left shoulder. His hand caressed the backside of your calf, slowly inching closer towards your inner thigh. You shuddered as a chill ran all up your spine. You stretched your back uncomfortably, settling away from him. You were desperate not to let yourself melt into the false sense of security their arms offered.
“Bruce’s hands always run cold, don’t they?” Clark mused, kissing your wrist.
Bruce let out a throaty chuckle and nodded, pressing a kiss to your knee cap. He leaned closer, spreading your left leg over his right thigh and hooking his left arm under your right knee. You understood the game they were playing now. If you were going to play by their rules and win, you’d have to choose your words very carefully.
“What are you doing?” You questioned quietly, looking at Bruce warily.
“Nothing you won’t like.”
Clark maneuvered you to fully sit in his lap, facing Bruce, kissing up your arm until his chin rested on your shoulder. His arms held your waist in place as Bruce kissed down to your inner thigh. It was a test. You knew that they knew you understood that now. The only question was how far you were going to let it go. Bruce unclipped the body suit snaps over your panties, letting his fingers graze under the hem on your right hip.
“Don’t…” You whispered, placing your hand over his wrist.
Bruce looked up at you through lidded eyes, letting his lips brush against your hip. “Don’t what?”
“Let him make you feel good?” Clark chimed in, taking your hand in his and away from Bruce.
“Don’t touch me there.” You said with a little more confidence.
“Here?” Bruce chuckled, placing a kiss over your navel.
You inhaled softly, arching your back towards Clark’s chest. These were dangerous waters you were treading in. You’re certain that with all the surveillance Bruce did on you before they took you, he, at least, knew you were a virgin. Hell, you hadn’t even had your first kiss yet, and here Bruce was in between your legs, waiting to devour you.
“What about here?” Bruce’s hand slid back to your ass, squeezing a handful of it in his hand.
His callouses were rough against you as he kneaded your flesh in his hand. You shook your head, trying to dig your nails into Clark’s hand with no avail.
“I…I don’t want you to touch me at all.” You finally confessed. You could only hope you told him what he wanted to hear.
“Oh, honey,” Clark sighed sweetly. “If you wanted me to touch you instead, all you had to do was ask.”
Clark took both of your wrists into his right hand as he kissed along your throat and wrapped his arm around your waist to press you flush against him. Bruce retreated and relaxed against the couch, content to abide by your interpreted wishes. Clark kissed up to your cheek, letting his pecks slowly inch towards your lips.
“Wait!” You cried, turning to look at Clark with desperate eyes. “Wait, please.”
“Have you decided you want Bruce after all?” Clark whispered, lips ghosting just barely above yours.
“I…” What could you possibly say in your defense? “I don’t think either of you will want me.”
“If that were true, we have a funny way of showing it.” Clark chuckled, chasing your lips slowly as you leaned your head back.
“Don’t make assumptions.” Bruce said coolly. “If you want to know how we feel, just ask us.”
“I’m not trying to, I’m just…being realistic.” You sighed. You’d never ask them, not wanting an even further look into their deranged delusions.
“Realistic?” Clark chuckled. “I’m just itching to jump your bones, and you think we don’t want you.”
“You said ‘will want me’.” Bruce noticed. “Is there something you think we don’t already know?”
You look at Bruce, swallowing nervously. Clark settled to press kisses along your temple and hairline, rubbing his hands up and down your waist.
“No!” You defended. Secrets were a cardinal sin with them. “I’m just not sure you’ll want someone as…inexperienced as me.”
“Think our boyscout is as innocent as he seems?” Bruce smirked. Your apparent gap in experience only made your stomach churn further.
“That’s just the way we like it, we’ll be your first and onlys.” Clark mused, letting his kisses move back down towards your lips. “You think our playboy can’t handle a virgin?”
“We adore you, you know you can’t deny that,” Bruce replied earnestly.
“I mean,” You laughed nervously, placing your hands on Clark’s chest to hold him back. “I haven’t even had my–” Clark’s eyes light up at the prospect.”My, uh, first kiss.” Your confidence died in your throat, barely finishing the sentence with a whisper.
“That’s okay,” Clark smiled, all teeth. He looked like a predator waiting to strike at his innocent prey. “We can teach you.”
Bruce’s hand softly stroked the underside of your calf. “Why?”
Clark maneuvered you off his lap, scooching you both over closer to Bruce. You sat shoulder to shoulder with them both, Bruce keeping your feet in his lap and Clark beginning to stroke your hand again. They let you take your time to answer, watching the gears turn in your mind, trying to find any excuse you thought they would find acceptable.
“Well, you both know I’ve never had a boyfriend before…you two.” You stared at the fireplace in front of you. What were they to you now? Boyfriends? Husbands? Captors? Owners?
“We’re your partners now, sweetheart. Nothing is ever going to change that.” Clark reassured.
“You don’t need a boyfriend to have sex.” Bruce challenged, quirking a brow. Of course he knew all about that. You’d jab it at him if you thought it would make a difference.
“I’m not the hookup type.” You shrugged, feeling the discomfort of the topic rise in you.
You weren’t less than just because you didn’t have the notches in your bedpost the way they did. You were doing your very best to refuse becoming one of theirs.
“Waiting for someone special?” Clark whispered in your ear. Naturally, Clark was more sentimental about these things than Bruce was.
“The opportunity just never came up.” You replied. A lie of omission technically wasn’t a lie, but you knew it wouldn’t slide with them.
“You’ll have plenty of opportunities with us.” Bruce smirked.
“Isn’t ‘I don’t know’ an answer?” You huffed exasperatedly.
“Not if you don’t have a good enough reason,” Bruce said matter-of-factly. “You’re afraid.”
“Now you’re making assumptions.” You spat back.
“It’s not an assumption if it’s a fact, my love.” Bruce quirked a brow. “You’ve been afraid since you first came here.”
Of course, you were afraid. But of what exactly? Afraid they would expect more than you could give? Afraid that you’ll be nothing more than a sex slave to them? Afraid that you were becoming complicit in your own captivity? Afraid it would hurt? Afraid it wouldn’t?
You’d be damned if you showed them your fear.
“It’s okay to admit that you’re afraid, sweetheart. You’re safe with us.” Clark soothed.
“Have we done anything to show you otherwise?” Bruce asked.
It was true. You knew it, and they knew it, and you hated that they knew you knew it. They’ve never been physical with you, never raised their voice, never neglected you. In any other circumstance, people would gush over what doting gentlemen you had.
“Maybe she needs to see how gentle we can be with her.” Clark offered, picking you up bridal style with one arm and tucking you close to him.
You yelped at the sudden upheaval, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. Bruce was quick to follow both of you as Clark led the way back to the manor’s master bedroom. Clark hummed a gentle tune as Bruce opened the door and beckoned you both inside with an outstretched arm.
Clark sat you down at the edge of the bed. You folded your arms across your chest as you watched the two of them strip. Clark took off his shirt with one hand and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, fingers intertwined. He let out a pleased hum, sending you a smile. He made quick work to help Bruce out of his dress shirt and left him to remove his undershirt. Clark dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Bruce’s thighs, unzipping Bruce’s pants with his teeth.
The burn from your cheeks spread all the way down to your chest. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation. You squeezed yourself tighter, swallowing harshly. Clark looked right at you as Bruce’s pants pooled around his ankles. He licked a long stripe against Bruce’s erection, smiling sharply when you looked up at Bruce nervously.
Bruce ran a hand through Clark’s curly locks, tugging them to bring his head back. Clark looked up at Bruce expectantly and stood when Bruce cupped his chin to kiss him. The kiss was heated and passionate, teeth and tongues already knocking against each other. Bruce stepped out of his pants and kicked them away, leaving him shirtless in his black boxers. He held his hand against the back of Clark’s neck and reached his other hand to shimmy the man out of his slacks.
Bruce slipped a hand into Clark’s white boxers, palming him and giving him a gentle squeeze. He groaned loudly into Bruce’s mouth and tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. Clark looked at you while Bruce started to kiss down his neck, biting and sucking harshly on his skin. He motioned for you to come over with a gentle wave of his hand, holding it out for you to take.
You stood up from the bed and waited for a moment, burrowing your arms further against yourself. If you showed that you would come freely when called, if you were willing to try, then maybe, you hoped, they would have mercy on you.
You took Clark’s hand, keeping your other arm tight around your chest. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing motion and gave you a gentle smile. You were sure he could feel just how much you were shaking. You could no longer tell if it was from fear or anticipation; maybe it was a mix of both. Bruce’s free hand wrapped around your waist and herded you in between them.
“You’re making her nervous,” Clark said, cocking his head at Bruce. “Her heart is racing.”
He gently grasped the hand covering your chest and pulled it away, placing it over his to steady you with his calm heartbeat. His palm draped the back of your hand, holding it in place. Bruce’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder as he ghosted his lips up your neck and behind your ear. Clark brought your other hand up to his lips again, kissing your palm and closing his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Bruce whispered in your ear. “He doesn’t bite.”
“Not unless you say please,” Clark murmured into your palm, looking back down at you as he kissed your wrist.
Bruce’s hands slipped under the elastic band of your skirt, laying his palms flat against your hips.
“You’re so tense,” Bruce said, rubbing circles with his thumbs into your hips. “Let us help you get comfortable.”
He pushed your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles. Clark grasped the hem of your body suit and pulled it up over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Bruce’s hands cupped you in between your legs, making you gasp as he ran a finger along your wetness.
“You’re soaked, lovely,” Bruce smirked. “Did you like watching us?”
You gulped, looking away from both of them. The heat in your cheeks burned brighter. Back to square one, you were at a loss for words. The men stepped away from you, taking their places on the large, plush bed. Bruce sat up against the headboard, propping one knee up and resting his left arm against the wood. Clark lay next to him on his side, propping himself up with his right elbow. Their eyes roamed you freely as you stood in the same spot they left you in. Your arms quickly found their place against your chest again.
“Feeling shy?” Clark asked, tracing circles into the sheets with his index finger. “Come here.”
“Maybe she wants us to continue our little show.” Bruce mused, holding his right hand out to you.
You stared at the ground as you padded over. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, either. It never got easier when they stripped.
You shakily took Bruce’s hand and crawled into the space in between them. Your arms were squished against their chest as you held your hands in your lap, twiddling your thumbs nervously. You stared straight up at the high ceiling, trying to count the folds in the canopy draped over the bed. It was a lovely shade of forest green, dark and inviting. A perfect shadow to hide in.
Clark’s hand started tracing circles on your stomach. Bruce’s left hand came to rest on your tense shoulders, slowly easing them from being hunched up to your ears.
“Beautiful,” Clark murmured, ghosting his lips over your shoulder. “Isn’t she, Bruce?”
“Stunning. It’s a miracle no one got their hands on her before we did.” Bruce agreed, stroking a thumb under your chin. “Pretty girl like you deserves to be kissed, well and often.”
“Our pretty girl,” Clark whispered, kissing up under your chin and nipping softly at your skin. “All ours.”
Clark dipped back down to your collarbone, leaving wetter kisses before licking a stripe up from your clavicle to your chin. All pretense of chaste affection was out the window – they were hungry for you, and Clark was tired of pretending he wasn’t.
“Still feeling afraid?” Bruce asked. “We’ll take it slow, sweetheart.”
Slow. They had no intentions of stopping. It was no longer an if; it was simply a matter of when.
“I told you I’m not afraid.” You shot back, hardly able to believe yourself with the way you sounded.
“Then show us.”
Bruce’s right hand smoothed over Clark’s thigh. His hands were rough and scarred, knuckles hardened from years of fighting. Scars littered his body beyond his hands. His deepest scars were beneath the surface, somewhere deep and dark that not even you or Clark seemed to reach. You assume he’s never let anyone. Sometimes, you think he takes all the hits he does in order to remind himself of the real pain he refuses to let himself feel.
Bruce looked at you intensely as he palmed Clark’s erection. He was studying you. Your nervousness was one thing, he knew it well. But your bashful arousal was a new frontier. You kept staring at the ceiling, knowing you would crumble if you looked over at him. He was handsome in a way that made you nervous if you looked at him for too long, like a long-lost movie star from the Golden Age. His charm was effortless, a well-rehearsed charade that flustered you more than it seduced you. He exuded command that made it hard to say no to him, as if his disappointment would devastate you.
Unlike Bruce, Clark didn’t have a scratch on him. His skin was smooth and flawless, as if he were carved straight from marble in the likeness of an ancient god. He was handsome in a way that was almost insulting. He could hide it well. His patience was almost as impenetrable as he was. It made him hard to read at first, but he’s let cracks of his other emotions seep through the longer you’ve been with him. You assumed he was too worried about frightening you with anything other than his fairweather optimism. Easy eyes and kind smiles with stupid dimples that put you at ease when you should be on alert. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. An extraterrestrial and uncanny Adonis.
Clark moaned against your skin, letting his teeth graze you as he jutted his hips against Bruce’s hand. He was careful, cautious with you despite his desire. You hadn’t said please yet. Bruce slipped his hand into Clark’s briefs and pulled out his leaking erection. Clark’s right arm stopped propping him up as he slid it under your neck and settled on the pillows next to you.
“Look at him,” Bruce instructed, tilting your cheek towards Clark. “Isn’t he so handsome?”
Swallowing nervously, you turn to look at Clark. A small flush left his cheeks tinted pink. His eyes were shut in pleasure as Bruce continued to stroke him. His eyes were half-lidded as he looked at you. You nodded slowly in agreement.
“Hi, gorgeous,” Clark whispered, using the arm under you to turn your body fully onto his side towards him.
He moved his hand from your stomach to cup your cheek. It seemed they were in silent agreement that Clark would take your first kiss. You wonder if they had this planned out. If they did, they weren’t keen on sharing their plans. The element of surprise served them well.
“Hi,” You whispered back, staring at his lips.
Who were you kidding, of course they did. They didn’t leave anything to chance.
They didn’t have to do this for you, you thought. They didn’t have to let you take it slow. They didn’t have to wait until you were comfortable with their innocent affection. They could have taken you the first night they brought you back, and it would have never made a difference to them. They were giving you plenty of chances, and you have given them almost none.
Clark’s hips thrusted into Bruce’s hands as he moaned again. He pressed kisses into your hairline by your temples, whimpering softly when Bruce squeezed him.
“Stop jerking your hips,” Bruce commanded, looking at Clark before resuming at a faster pace. “Hands to yourself.”
Clark gasped and pressed his face into your hair, hips tense with obedience. Clark’s hands retreated behind his back, chest heaving. Bruce’s other hand settled on the back of your neck, stroking up the side gently.
“See? He can behave himself,” Bruce reassured, whispering gently in your ear. “He’ll listen to you if you tell him what you want.”
You placed your hand over Clark’s cheek and pulled back from him slightly to look straight at him. His eyes were heavy with need as he looked at you. His bottom lip was caught in his teeth as he bit back a moan. You could still be in control; you could make this happen on your own terms.
“Clark,” You said shakily. You kept the last shred of courage you had and maintained eye contact with him. “If you want to kiss me, you can.”
Clark hardly let you finish your sentence before he gave you a deep kiss, nuzzling his cheek into your hand. You gasped at his intensity, closing your eyes as you let him kiss you breathless. The second kiss was sweeter, softer. You could feel his restraint as he slowed down, groaning lowly against your lips. He was desperate to ravage you, but he was willing to go at your speed. That had to count for something, right?
Bruce’s hand stopped pumping and grabbed yours, replacing it on Clark’s hardness. Clark whimpered against your lips, letting out a breathy gasp. He moaned out your name lowly, shutting his eyes again.
Your movements were stiff and awkward, clearly unused to the motions. Clark didn’t seem to hold it against you.
“Honey, ah!” Clark breathed out, gritting his teeth when you started moving your hand. “Making me feel so good.”
Bruce’s hand slipped over your underwear, pressing his index finger against your wetness.
“‘Course you’re not afraid,” Bruce mused, sliding his hand under the elastic band. “How are we supposed to trust what you say when your body is willing to tell us the truth?”
Bruce’s middle finger brushed against your clit, causing you to tense your hips and flinch. You whined into Clark’s mouth, gasping when you felt his tongue brush against yours. Bruce’s hand on your neck kept you in place when you tried to move your head back.
“Relax,” Bruce instructed softly. “Just open up.”
You whined again, turning your head to the side. This was happening too fast; you weren’t prepared to deal with both of them for your first time. Clark’s kisses had left you lightheaded and malleable, slowly kissing away your doubts with each pass of his lips. They could twist your words, but you refused to let them twist your judgment.
You pushed your hands against Clark’s chest and broke away for a breath, starting to feel sobs bubbling in your throat. You tried to suck in a few deep breaths and take a beat, but Clark dove back in for a wet kiss to your trembling lips, letting his tongue swipe against you again.
You pulled your hands away from Clark and sat up quickly away from them, frantically breathing and pushing your hair away from your face. Tears were welling in your eyes as you let out hiccuping breaths.
Bruce was quick to sit behind you, locking you in place between his legs. He placed his hands on your shoulder and brushed some hair behind your ear. Clark sat up in front of you, cupping your face with one hand and placing the other over your heart.
Bruce rubbed soothing circles into your shoulders as you breathed with Clark. Some stray tears had fallen, and Clark was quick to kiss them away.
“Deep breaths,” Bruce said softly. “Just like that.”
Your hyperventilation had slowed to slow, hiccuping breaths as they soothed you.
“I-I don’t think I’m ready for this.” You whimpered.
“You were doing so well.” Bruce praised, letting his hand rub over your shoulder blades.
You shook your head, closing your eyes and resting against Clark’s chest.
“Talk to us,” Clark said, pulling you in close to lay your ear over his heart. “Did it not feel good?”
Bruce petted a hand over your head as you hid your face in Clark, still taking shuddering breaths.
“I don't want to do this.” You mumbled. A desperate Hail Mary.
“Oh, honey,” Clark sighed. “We all know that's not true.”
“You were so wet when you watched us,” Bruce whispered in your ear. “You liked it. There’s no use in denying it.”
Your heart fell just as far as it did the first time Bruce told you that you weren’t going to leave the manor. It was something that was not up for discussion. Tears threatened to spill again.
“What’s really going on?” Clark implored, resting his cheek against your hair.
Honesty might save you for once if they believed it was the truth.
“It was just moving too fast,” You let out with shuddering breaths. “Bruce held my head down and-”
Bruce shushed you again, not wanting you to work yourself up a second time.
“Okay,” He whispered against your hair, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.
“Our poor girl,” Clark sighed. “We scared you, didn’t we?”
You shook your head against Bruce’s hand, letting out a sigh of defeat. Something about admitting your fear enticed them, and you refused to play into their hand. Not going through with this was off the table; you were certain about that now. You knew they were patient men; they were willing to take it at your speed. Did you really want to escalate it further? Were you willing to see how long their patience would last?
“You’ve barely given it a chance,” Bruce said, letting his hand rub over your shoulder blades. “Don’t worry about us. Just lie back, we’ll take good care of you.”
“Let’s try again,” Clark hummed in agreement and whispered close to you, “No more tears in those pretty eyes, ‘kay?”
You nodded again and sat up between them, using the heel of your palms to wipe the last of your tears away. You bit back another shuddering breath, holding onto Clark’s hand on your chest. You could do this…right? You could do it unsure, you could do it nervously, you could do it scared. You could do this if it meant they didn’t have to hold you down to get it done.
Clark’s hand on your cheek caressed your face and settled on your chin, resting it between his thumb and index finger. He smiled at you with an unmistakably sharp look in his eyes. He’s pleased you’re willing, but you know that if you weren’t, it wouldn’t have made much difference to him. His thumb stroked over your chin as he tilted it up to look at him. He shared a brief look with Bruce before leaning down to kiss your still-wet eye.
Bruce’s hand slid down from your back and settled on your hip as he kissed the back of your neck. Clark closed his eyes and leaned in for another kiss. You held your breath as he kissed you chastely, sweeter and slower than the other kisses. He kissed you as if it were the tender love and care you so desperately needed. He peeked at you through his eyelashes, seeing that you had closed your eyes too and were letting out slow, deep breaths.
“Good girl,” Bruce murmured against your neck, kissing the skin softly there. “Keep breathing just like that. It’ll help you.”
Bruce’s hand slid over your hip fully and dipped between your legs. You gasped softly in Clark’s mouth and curled your fingers slightly against his chest. Clark’s lips twitched slightly in restraint, continuing to lay kisses on the bottom lip of your parted mouth. Bruce’s hand cupped you entirely, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit. Your hips jerked away from his hand, but Bruce’s straddling you from behind kept you in place. Even the pressure from his palm was too much for you; every touch against your skin left electricity in its wake. No matter how shameful it felt to admit, you knew you wouldn’t last long against them.
“Shh,” He soothed, kissing under your ear. “You’re okay. Just let us make you feel good.”
“He’ll make all your worries melt away, you’ll see.” Clark hummed in agreement against your lips. “Don’t be difficult, now.”
Bruce’s hand continued to grind into you as you let out a soft whine. Toys had never even felt as good as Bruce’s teasing. You were ashamed to feel as good as you did. Your hand flew up to your mouth, making him press his hand down even harder. Clark took it away and held both your wrists against him.
“None of that,” Clark scolded and pressed your hands back on his chest. “You let us hear that pretty voice loud and proud.”
“Trust me, lovely.” Bruce chuckled, putting his hand into your wet panties. “Clark would be too happy to make you really scream for us. He’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to you.”
“Woof.” Clark teased in a low voice.
Bruce’s finger slowly circled your clit as you bit back a moan. Clark took your swollen lip from under your teeth and put it between his own, sucking gently when you moaned again. Bruce’s movements were slow and teasing, giving you just enough to feel the tingle in your spine but not enough to get you anywhere.
Clark swiped his tongue over your lip before sealing your lips in a hot kiss. You whined into his mouth, grateful for the way his tongue muffled your pathetic sounds. You relaxed your hips against Bruce and flattened your palms shakily against Clark’s chest. They were trying to keep the mood light, ease the tension from your hunched shoulders and arched hips. The least you could do for yourself was return the favor.
Bruce’s kisses became wetter as he sucked and nibbled on your collarbone, leaving tender marks in his wake. His fingers slipped down to tease the wetness between your folds, stroking gently. You sighed into Clark’s mouth and forced yourself to rest in the palm on your cheek. Clark was right, if you really got yourself to relax, you could forget yourself for just a moment. Forget your circumstances, forget that you don’t have a say in your own life anymore.
You could forget all that for now, but you knew better. Tomorrow is a different story. You’ll try to forget how good Bruce’s fingers were at making you feel pleasure you didn’t even know was possible. You’ll try to forget how dizzying Clark’s kisses were. You’ll try to forget how addicting their devotion and desire were in your isolation.
Clark’s free hand slipped in your panties over Bruce’s, toying his middle finger through your folds before dipping into you. You cried out softly as he did, earning pleased groans from both men. The two of them shared a look over your shoulder before kissing each other next to your ear. It was heated and messy, causing heat to pool in your stomach at their pleased sounds.
Your back arched away from Bruce as Clark curled his finger inside of you, making a slow inching motion. Your legs began to tremble as they squeezed shut around Clark’s thigh. You bit back another moan as you pressed your back to Bruce’s chest. Clark was reaching places you never even dreamed of, dragging out pleasure you didn’t even know was possible with each curl. You were close already. Clark let out a low sound when you clenched around him, and Bruce hummed in kind.
“Eager little thing,” He cooed, pressing his forehead against yours and staring at your wide eyes. “Feeling good so good, aren’t you?”
You yelped in pleasure when Bruce gently pinched your clit and rolled it between his fingers. Clark’s finger pumped in and out of you at a steady pace, keeping a curling motion as he dragged them against your walls. You couldn’t even think to hold back your moans anymore as you writhed between them.
“I think she’s close.” Bruce teased with a smirk, looking at Clark. Your hips just against their fingers as you whined. “And she said she didn’t want this.”
Bruce tilted your head back by your chin and kissed you deeply, drinking in the soft sighs and whines you let out. Your hips rut in between them, caught in a dance between Bruce’s caresses and Clark’s pumping. He broke the kiss off and looked down at you through heavy eyelids, cooing when you let out a soft whimper. Your eyes screwed shut as the pleasure began to override you, making you moan shamelessly.
“That’s it,” Clark urged. “Good girl, let it out.”
You wailed and let out a loud cry as your body tensed, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Bruce let out a pleased groan as you collapsed against him, riding out the waves of pleasure as they whispered sweet nothings to you. Clark’s lips quirked as he felt you squeeze tightly around his fingers. They guided you through it, only stopping their motions when you whimpered and shook in overstimulation.
A stray tear had fallen down your cheek as you opened your eyes to look up at Bruce. He was still looking right back at you, pressing a sweet kiss to your trembling lips. You kissed back, whining when he pulled away. The haze of your satisfaction had your wires crossed. Your afterglow had you feeling a sense of peace you didn’t even know you could get back.
“Well done, love.” He praised, pulling his hand out of your panties.
Bruce raised his fingers to Clark’s lips, moving them slowly in and out of his mouth as he sucked greedily. Clark pulled his finger out of you and raised it up to Bruce’s lips, pumping it slowly out of his mouth. You watched as you tried to catch your breath, letting out little whimpers as you adjusted your posture.
The reality of your situation was starting to trickle back in as the two of them parted above you. It was a fool’s errand to believe you had any power over the situation. You handed yourself over as soon as they asked you. You let your inhibitions get lost in their twisted sense of affection and care. Worst of all, you liked it. You liked forgetting the circumstances that led to the current entanglement. You liked forgetting that they weren’t your lovers by choice. You liked forgetting that you were all but held down to get here.
Bruce smoothed his hands over your tensing shoulders and moved you to lie with him. He propped himself up against the headboard again and shimmied you up to lie on his chest with your back to him. Clark crawled in between your legs, staring up at you with an easy smile.
“Absolutely soaked for us,” He murmured, placing a wet kiss over your belly button. “Tasted so good on Bruce’s fingers.”
Clark worked you out of your panties and tossed them off the side of the bed. You shifted anxiously against Bruce, who held you in place with a warm hand on your chest. Clark kicked his own boxers off, leaving both you and him fully naked.
“You’re doing so well, beautiful,” Bruce whispered in encouragement, kissing your ear gently. “Don’t stop now.”
Clark hiked your knees over his shoulders as he settled between yours and Bruce’s legs. You shifted nervously again, gasping when he blew cold air over your wetness. You were hardly ready to go all the way; you only hoped they felt the same way. He chuckled as he placed wet kisses trailing down your right thigh, caressing your thighs as they rested on his shoulders.
“Don’t tease her, Clark,” Bruce chuckled. “She’s been so good for us. Doesn’t she deserve her reward?”
Bruce hooked his arms under your knees and pressed your legs up to your chest. He tucked you close to him, folding you up as much as he could. You gasped, feeling your flush and shame come back twice fold at your absolute exposure. They were more than eager to prepare you for them, which you could feel immensely grateful for. You just hated that it cost you more of your dignity that you thought was all but gone.
Clark’s warm hands gripped your ass and squeezed gently before he spread you open. He looked up at you as he placed a small kiss over your clit, making you whimper and gasp from the sensitivity. You squirmed as you looked down at Clark, who looked you straight in the eye as he laid a wet kiss with his tongue against the nub. You gasped softly again as his tongue took a long, slow swipe up your wet folds.
Clark hummed against you as he took your clit in his mouth and began to suck gently, shaking his head. You whined as his entire mouth enveloped you, becoming more feverish in his movements the louder you became. He was moving against you like a man who had been starved of you his entire life.
Your hands flew down to the curly locks tussling between your legs and threaded your fingers through them. Clark moaned in response, pushing his tongue in deeper into you and letting his canines scrape against you gently. You cried out and pulled at his hair, trying to pull him off of you. Your thighs started to shake in overstimulation as you felt Clark growl against you.
“Clark!” You yelped, trying to buck your hips away from him.
Bruce held you firmly in place as you struggled in their hold.
“He’s good with his mouth, isn’t he?” Bruce murmured against your temple. “Like I said, a dog with his favorite bone.”
Clark nodded, suckling on your clit as he slowly inched a finger back into you. You gasped breathlessly and went limp against Bruce’s chest, feeling the pleasure start to become borderline painful as Clark added a second finger and curled them both. You clenched tightly around them as he began to pump them in and out of you.
“No,” You whined pathetically, feeling the noise rise again in your throat as you shook your head. “I’m gonna come again.”
“That’s okay,” Bruce said. “You can come as many times as you want.”
Clark was spurred by your begging and continued in his ministrations, letting out a low moan as he rocked his hips against the bed. You tugged at his hair again, but he paid you no mind as he steadfastly brought you closer to your second orgasm. You could do nothing but whine and cry out against Bruce’s chest, feeling tears prick your eyes. You let out a loud, warbling cry as you came against Clark’s face, feeling your body practically white out with the pleasure ripping through you. You shook violently in Bruce’s arms as you let out a heaving, whining sob, letting a few stray tears fall.
You continued to clench around nothing when Clark pulled his fingers out, and your thighs twitched through the aftershocks of your pleasure. Clark placed one final kiss on your wetness before sitting up between your legs. Bruce set your legs back down over his and straddled Clark’s thighs. You shut your eyes and let out heaving breaths as you whispered a curse to yourself.
“You’re lucky,” Bruce chuckled deeply. “He let you off easy today.”
Clark kissed your trembling lips deeply, slipping his tongue between your lips as you gasped softly. You tasted yourself on his tongue as you let out a low whimper. Clark moaned in kind, nipping at your lips softly when he pulled away.
“All right, that’s enough,” Bruce teased, pushing against Clark’s chest. “You’ve been greedy enough for one evening.”
Clark kissed you sweetly one last time before switching positions with Bruce, handling you gently as they passed you off. You were placed in Clark’s lap, back pressed flush to his chest. Your legs were spread again, far less so than before. Your feet sat on the outside of Clark’s knees as you settled against his chest. You watched as Bruce took off his boxers and sat between your legs, completely bare.
Your eyes trailed his body as you looked over his scars, some familiar and some new to you. Seeing them up close and uncovered made you realize just how many of them there were. You reached a shaky hand out to his chest as he moved closer between your legs. The scar just below his heart was cut deep; the healed tissue was raised and uneven. It’s unimaginable to consider what the two of them have survived.
You stood absolutely no chance against them unless they wanted you to. It would only take seconds for Bruce to pin you down in an inescapable hold. Clark wouldn’t have to try to catch any sudden movements you threw at him. They didn’t even need each other to ensure your complete physical submission. Your pleasure overtook you because they wanted you to have it. Your consent was manufactured because they wanted you to believe it. They gain nothing from your approval, yet demand it anyway.
When Bruce finally kissed you, you kissed him back. You felt the chap of his lips, the scars from all the times they got busted by a lucky shot. You placed a small kiss over the scar on his cupid’s bow, taking in his pleased hum as he kissed you deeply in response. Maybe they would let you off easy tonight. Maybe they’ve had their fill of you for one evening.
Bruce’s finger ghosted over your folds, and you jolted in oversensitivity, clenching down around nothing. He parted from you, licking his lips.
“You ready?” He asked sincerely, caressing your inner thighs with his rough hands.
You would never be ready. Ready wasn’t a feeling; ready was an action. You trembled slightly with anticipation and nerves, only growing more riled up as Clark gently rubbed your waist. Tears threatened to prick your eyes again as you blinked them away and looked back up at the canopy. There was a slight gold reflex to the green that you hadn’t noticed earlier. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could stop pretending to want this. You swallowed and looked at Bruce, willing yourself to relax.
You needed to choose to be ready before they decided for you.
Bruce shifted his hips closer to yours, thumbing your clit gently as he pressed his thighs against the back of yours. Clark reached over and stroked Bruce slowly, grinning as he groaned lowly. His other hand caressed your midriff, letting his palm spread warmth over you. You felt him rub his tip against your wetness, and your hips tensed up again. Bruce’s hands held your waist as Clark helped line him up. Your right hand shakily gripped Bruce’s wrist, making him look up at you.
“Bruce,” You pleaded softly through trembling lips. “I’m scared.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Bruce promised, placing his hand on yours and rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. “Do you want to hold my hand?”
A tear falls down your cheek as you nod and shut your eyes. Bruce’s fingers lace with yours as you squeeze tightly, still shaking. He pecked a kiss to the back of your hand and pressed it into the bed.
“Don’t you worry, honey,” Clark whispered sweetly in your ear, holding your other hand. “Bruce is going to take good care of you.”
Bruce used his free hand to give himself one more pump before pressing his tip into you, catching it on your hole as he slowly inched in. You clenched harshly around him as he slid in, adjusting to his size. Ragged breaths made your chest heave sharply as your whole body tensed in anticipation.
“Shit,” Bruce hissed through his teeth, stopping about halfway. “Squeezing me like this is only going to make it harder.”
Clark pet over your stomach, gently pushing your arching back down onto the bed and forcing you to relax the tension in your hips and waist.
“Just relax,” Clark coaxed. “Be good and let him in.”
You forced yourself to relax your thighs, opting to carry all the tension in your shoulders instead. Bruce sighed in relief and continued despite your whimpering whines. The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever experienced, even with Clark’s fingers earlier. Clark shushed you softly and kissed your temple, murmuring praise.
“That’s it,” Clark praised. “Good girl. Just like that.”
Bruce groaned and clenched his teeth, squeezing your hand slightly as he bottomed out. You let out the breath you held in and squeezed his hand fiercely in return. You involuntarily clenched around him as he stilled in you. He cursed harshly under his breath. His hips trembled in restraint against yours.
The stretch was uncomfortable, almost bordering on painful. The fullness was something else entirely. He was consuming your entire being. He was the sweat on your brow, the nerves in your mind, the pleasure pooling in your gut. He was filling you in places you didn’t even know existed. He was taking the last piece of yourself that wasn’t already declared his.
“Taking me so well,” Bruce muttered, resting his forehead on yours. “Absolutely perfect for me.”
Clark pressed his hand on your stomach, and you whined, gasping at the pressure. He took your left hand and placed it next to his right on your stomach, stroking the back of your palm gently.
“You feel him here?” Clark said softly. “So deep. He feels so good, doesn’t he?”
Clark interlaced his fingers over yours, continuing the pressure. His right hand moved down between your legs and began to slowly circle your clit with his middle finger. Bruce let go of your hand briefly to hook your right leg under his left arm, pressing it up to your chest as he reached back down. He interlaced your fingers with his as he pressed his hips flush to yours, not leaving any gap between the two of you.
Your mouth was agape as you let a breathless cry, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you. A few more tears fell down your face as Bruce pressed himself into you, groaning into the crook of your shoulder as he did. Your back was flush to Clark’s chest, feeling his hardness rut against you as he moved his hips slowly.
Sweat trailed down your back onto Clark’s stomach as you squeezed Bruce’s hand again. You blinked away more tears and took a big breath, trying to catch your bearings. Being between both of them was beyond overwhelming.
“Good girl,” Bruce praised, laying a needy kiss on your shoulder. “Keep breathing just like that. We’ve got you.”
Bruce’s hips slowly rolled back, dragging himself out of you. He was just shy of his tip coming out before he rolled his hips forward in a single, swift motion to plunge himself all the way back in. You gasped and held your breath again, only exhaling when you could no longer hold in your unabashed moan. You were too overwhelmed to give a second thought to any embarrassment you could think to muster.
“Tell him just how good you’re feeling,” Clark whispered into your ear, moaning with another jerk of his hips.
“It’s too much, I can’t,” you blubbered out. “I can’t take it.”
“You can,” Bruce grunted. “And you will.”
Bruce ground his hips slowly in a circle, pressing you further into Clark. The overstimulation and fullness were bringing your buried emotions to the forefront. A whimpering cry caught itself in your throat as you screwed your eyes shut. Tears fell down your scrunched face when Bruce pulled himself out slowly again. The slow drag of his head against your tensed walls had your toes curling as hard as they could.
Bruce panted and swallowed close to your ear, letting out a grunt as he pushed his hips back in. His thighs flexed against yours as he started to pump in and out of you at a slow, steady rhythm. Your nails dug into Bruce’s hand, hard enough to scratch and draw blood.
Bruce brought your entwined hands up to his mouth for a brief kiss over your knuckles.
“Gonna give me some battle scars of your own?” He teased breathily.
As Bruce’s hips rocked the pair of you, Clark slid his hardness between the small of your back and your tailbone. The sweat of your back slickened him enough to sigh in your ear and kiss behind it wetly. More tears fell as Clark’s finger began to circle you faster and his hips rutted against you in tandem with Bruce’s. The shame and pleasure were bringing you close to sobbing again, making your feelings grow with each rise and fall of your heaving chest. Exhaustion crept in where excitement should be. You could only pray they would take their pleasure quickly. You refused to give yours up for a third time.
You kept your eyes shut as you heard Clark and Bruce exchange a few more kisses with each other before moving onto you. Bruce kissed your wet cheeks tenderly, whispering assuringly to you as he did. Clark pressed his face into your shoulder, speeding his pace up as he shook your entire body with his strokes. He left wet kisses on your damp skin, letting them muffle his moans.
Clark groaned your name loudly as his hips flexed and tensed there, spilling himself all over your back. He bit gently into your shoulder as he rode out his aftershocks, licking over the tender mark. He was quicker to go than Bruce from his previous teasing, you assumed. You tried not to notice him rutting into the bed when he was between your legs, letting his obsession with you alone do him in.
“Usually have better manners than this,” He exhaled in your ear, nuzzling his cheek into yours. “But I just had to get back to you.”
He had two fingers circling your clit now, pressing down harder as Bruce increased his speed. You shivered in mild disgust and arousal as you felt his spend start to drip down your back. Bruce was not far behind him as you opened your watery eyes to see him staring back down at you. His face was uncharacteristically flushed, and sweat was beading around his temples. He leaned down to give you a deep kiss on your mouth, moaning into your mouth in return.
Your cunt clenched down on him again as you felt the pleasure building in your core again.
“Close again?” He smirked through his heavy pants. “We’ll have to build your stamina up.”
You whined and shook your head, letting the sobs bubble up again. You didn’t want your pleasure to be wrought from their insatiability again. Their obsession with your complete ownership had delved all the way down to enacting their will over even your most basic bodily functions. They shared a displeased look over your shoulder, in silent agreement once again. It was never about you.
“You will come again,” Bruce commanded, squeezing your hand. “You deserve it, my love.”
Of course you did, that’s what this was all about in the end – what they think you deserve. Not what you wanted, not even what you needed, but what you deserved. You deserved their protection, you deserved their devotion, you deserved their delusions of grandeur. You deserved it so much that it never mattered what you thought about it.
Clark whispered encouragingly in your ear as Bruce slowed his pace, focusing on more powerful and targeted thrusts. He was going in as deep as he could, rolling his hips up into you. Your sobs were loud and unfettered as Clark shushed you softly. You shook your head again and again, whimpering out protests when the pleasure began to make you shake. There was practically no buildup this time. It hit you just like their love did, an impossible force that refused to be denied. It struck you all at once like they did, overtaking your entire being and holding you in the throes of its ecstasy.
You were fairly certain you lost consciousness for a moment as you rode out your orgasm, spasming violently around Bruce. Absolution filled your senses as you basked in the ignorance once again, letting go of your circumstances for just a second more. The well-earned relief was short-lived as you felt Bruce pull out of you and finish himself off on your stomach. You barely registered he had done it as you finally let yourself go, giving into the fear you’ve felt the entire time. Your body shook as you sobbed harshly. You didn’t even care if they were a witness to it anymore; you couldn’t refuse yourself any longer.
They maneuvered you slowly, allowing your body to rest naturally on the bed between them. Bruce kissed you and pulled you close to him, laying you face down on his chest. He rested against the sheets on his back, petting your hair as you wailed into his chest. The situation had fully crashed down on you, filling you with horrible shame and anger. You let them talk you into willingly betraying yourself, into believing this sham of an intimate evening. You tried to forget them in the apex of your pleasure, but they were waiting there for you, too. There was nowhere to hide from them, not even in yourself anymore.
Your cries had fizzled out in sniffles quickly as exhaustion moved into you once more. The edges of reality blurred as you opened your eyes wearily. The sight of the room was a haze, some far-off place that felt more like a dungeon than a castle with each passing minute. Their voices were a blur as you settled against Bruce, still shaking from the shock of it all. You hadn’t noticed Clark had left the bed, but he returned with a warm washcloth. His movements were gentle and tender as he physically cleaned you of themselves. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to wash yourself of your own sins, not with all the tears you knew had left to be shed.
Clark settled beside you and kissed your cheek, prompting you to close your eyes again. Their conversation was muffled, like you were listening to them speak through a wall. Bruce said something about Alfred bringing dinner up to the bedroom instead of taking it formally like date night would demand. Their voices faded the more you relaxed into their comforting touches.
You could tell they were speaking to you, but it wasn’t real. None of this was real. The feeling of their lips on your skin, the softness of the sheets, the pit of despair deep in your heart. It would all melt away if you weren’t keen to their reality. You let yourself drift off on Bruce’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as you hoped to free yourself from them in your dreams.
“not yet.” bruce instructs clark, sitting behind you, observing. his muscular nude chest flushed against your back.
“please,” clark begs again, his face scrunching up as he thrust into your tight cunt harder. “i just need to come.” his hands grip onto your hips with an iron grip, making sure you stay in place.
“not until she comes a second time.” bruce grunts out, his eyes narrowing in on clark. keeping an eye on him. your body withers at bruce’s words; already feeling like it’s on fire, and he was expecting another one out of you? you honestly don’t know if you could go on without losing your mind.
you weren’t dumb, bruce was using you to make an example out of clark. this was clearly some type of punishment… or bruce just really got off to clark’s crying, you of course don’t mind hearing whimpers from your boyfriend either but this was starting to feel a little more of a punishment on you too now.
sinking into bruce’s chest you feel clark’s pelvis hitting against you, his thrust hard and sloppy, trying to desperately chase his high. you couldn’t help but close your eyes. the feeling of clark slamming his cock into you was overwhelming
“open your eyes, baby.” bruce demands his fingers pinching at your side. “look at how greedy clark’s being.”
your eyes flutter open, feeling hazy as you look down at your hips, watching as clark thrust into you over and over again. you can’t help but whimper at the sight as your cunt tightens around him. “he’s using you as some toy.” your other boyfriend taunts, his voice whispering in your ear as his hand snakes down your body, groping your tits. being just as greedy, if not more than clark.
“please, bruce.” the man above you cries more, his round blue eyes stare into bruce’s as he continues to rut into you. leaning his face closer, clark presses his lips against bruce’s.
looking over to your boyfriends causes your stomach to swirl, butterflies flying around as your heart thumps against your chest. you can’t help but stare at them. “why don’t you show our girl some love, hm?” bruce mutters against clark’s lips, with a final small peck, he pulls from clark.
happily obliging, clark leans down to you, his swollen lips pressing against your neck, his tongue gently swirls around. making a small mark. leaning back up, his eyes flick to your neck before looking at you. “you’re so pretty, honey.” he murmurs his hips thrusting harshly into you again, his hands digging into the skin of your own hips, focusing back on making you both feel good, blowing out shallow breaths he tilts his head down looking at where your hips meet his. “i want to make you feel good.”
“you are, clark.” you choke out, feeling bruce’s hands pinching the bud of your breast, rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb, his eyes staring greedily as clark fucks you.
with your praise, clark continues his rhythm, his large muscular thighs smack against your limp ones. the pain and pleasure mixing together overwhelms you.
“i can’t-“ you start, your legs shaking and body feeling hot and flushed. “you can, and will.” bruce murmurs into your skin, nipping sharply at your jaw to distract you. “go on, give clark another one, baby.” he whispers his lips pecking gently where he was nipping at your skin. “come and you can be done.”
the logical part of you knew bruce was lying. he wasn’t even close to being done with you or clark for the night. he hasn’t even gotten off himself. this is how it always went. he’d tease and wait until you were completely fucked dumb. but you nod anyway, overwhelmed by clark to think straight.
“harder, give her greedy little cunt what she wants.” thrusting sharply, clark eyes screw shut, he can feel your cunt squeezing him, making it more harder for him to not spill his seed into you this very moment. he knew if he came before you did a second time bruce would be utterly pissed with him. he was trying his best here, but clark could only take so much! with a few final thrust you both lose it. your legs shake, your walls pulsing around clark’s cock as he continues to ram into you, spilling into you as he cries and whines for you.
drained and tired clark stills, slowly pulling out, he slumps against your body, his face digging into your damp neck. too tired to even care how hot and sticky you’re feeling you bring a hand up to his hair, playing with it gently.
“good job, the both of you.” bruce praises gently from behind you, his hand squeezing your side gently as he looks down at you and clark. your body stiffens, feeling his erection against your body. now fully aware you are nowhere near done for the night.
a/n: it’s my birthday, so here’s my gift to you guys!! ♡
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i need to write more smut… also, I’m writing a part 2 of anything if anyone cares
Clark Kent who will only fuck you face up, because he can’t stand missing the way your eyes roll back just before your orgasm, because he can’t not kiss you rough, teeth and tongues clashing, a mix of saliva and your own slick from ‘getting you ready’.
Sometimes you’re on top, tits bouncing in his face, just asking to be touched and kissed and covered in his cum. He loves watching you ride him, he loves grabbing your hips, helping you along when you get tired, rutting up into you when you get close. He especially loves watching you desperately chase your orgasm, back arched, head thrown all the way back, mouth agape, releasing desperate, borderline pornographic moans.
He’ll only fuck you from behind when he’s mad. Against the kitchen counter after a bad day, against the window, still in his superman suit after a rough night, or spread open on all fours on the edge of the bed after you’ve spent the whole day teasing him, wearing that delicious blouse that cups your tits just right, grinding on him in the break room just to leave him rock hard, swinging your hips as you walk away, and whispering how much you need him all day.
Could I please request one where the reader is a villain and clark/superman where he tries to convince her to be good through some unconventional spicy means 😈💋
"Be good?" - Clark Kent x Villian!Reader
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Summary - Superman is dating a local villain, who hacks computers for Lex Luthor like no other, and after many feuds over being good, he finally puts you in your place, convincing you that your better off helping the Justice League.
Warnings - Smut, villain reader, whiny reader, orgasm denials, Clark talks you through it, PinV, rough, oral (f! receiving) Use of super strength, not proof read.. | WC: 2,860
AN - Okay first of all, Tysm for 100 followers. That is like insane because this blog is like what? 2-3 weeks old? So, thank you! Second, I feel like I'm bad at writing smut, so I hope this is satisfying! Third, send in more requests, it's so much fun and way easier for me to get ideas! fourth, thank you to the people tagging me in fic recommendations, actually means the world to me. And fifth, I love when he gets called Kal-El, idk why its so cute!! Enjoy! <3
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How you and Clark Kent came to be was a total mystery. The city knew Superman as your greatest obstacle. You knew him as the man who woke up early to make you pancakes every Sunday.
He was inherently good, his eyes sparkled with magic, and his mission on Earth was to save the world. Or at least, a warped version of his message from his parents. When he wasn’t working at Daily Planet, he found himself flying through Metropolis, saving it from its biggest threats. Lex Luthor, damage, fires, and keeping the streets safe. He also kept criminals, like you, at bay.
You were a classic crook, not much fancy equipment, but you could do anything with a will and a computer. Disarming alarm systems was your strength. No one could trace it back to you with your efficiency. Lex Luthor admired it, and you jumped at the chance for him to intern with you. You committed crimes while also being his shiny toy; you got all the plans, and he gave you the materials to do so. You wanted more for the world, not to be ruled, getting inside like this was your biggest accomplishment yet.
Was Clark disappointed? Absolutely. Every time his super hearing picked up the familiar chime of an alarm tied to your jobs, he’d quickly pull his cape on with a sigh. He hoped—just hoped—that tonight would be the last scandal, the last lie, and you’d listen when he asked you to stop. He was always the one first on scene to stop you. He’d caught you plenty of times but never tossed you in jail. Instead, he’d fly you home, sit you on the couch with some team, and spend an hour trying to convince you that you didn’t have to keep doing this. He had a soft spot for you, considering you were his girlfriend.
You were high up in the Daily Planet, on level with Perry. You decided what got posted, what got fixed, and edited. It was a big job. It also allowed you to mediate where the public eye’s attention went, keeping it away from Luthor’s scandals.
Clark hated what you were doing. He hated every break-in, every stolen file, every lie you told that put you on the brink of getting caught. But he never hated you. He saw the ambition and kindness tucked underneath it all, and no matter how many heists or plans you made, he believed you could choose differently—not for him, but for yourself. Your help could make Luthor rise and spread evil. But he knew your intentions weren’t evil, not even a little. Lex pointed you toward his competitors and happily tore through their firewalls. Breaking them down and destroying their covers inch by inch by stealing their data and getting mass amounts of money to keep it under wraps. And on the side, you were able to bring home evidence and proof for Superman and the Justice League that justified them. Painted them as good guys.
Though on the side, you had a terrible habit of helping yourself to expensive souvenirs along the way.
You were only human.
Clark came home from work in his suit, which meant he had finished Daily Planet work. He had been so busy lately, not coming home until late at night from the chaos of Metropolis. You missed him a lot—especially his dick. He hadn’t fucked you right in two weeks now, just some touching that was cut off by your desperate need for sleep. You didn’t have super stamina and needed sleep, unlike him.
Tonight, you sprawled out on the couch in a pretty set you bought for him. Dark green lace that accentuated the curves of your body, made your breasts look more desirable, if at all possible. On your neck sat a pretty necklace from a museum. You planned to return it, but why not have a little fun with it while it was in your possession? His breath caught at the sight in front of him. You looked good enough to eat.
“Hello to you too,” Clark said, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, setting his briefcase down. His curls were a little messed up; he must’ve just finished some Superman duties. His hair always got like that after flying, the wind molding it against his wishes. “Hi, baby…” You drawled out, the lust in your tone hard to ignore. It sounded like you were going to eat him instead. “Where’d you get that necklace?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, getting his shoes off, and taking off his suit jacket. That left his muscles to be observed and gazed at. “Just borrowing it from down the road,” you said, sitting up. Your hair cascaded down your back, and your eyes were pinned on him.
Clark swallowed hard, slowly stepping into the living room. “Down the road? You stole it?” It was a rhetorical question; he knew the answer already. He shook his head, his hand moving out to touch the material of your lingerie. “I’m gonna give it back, promise. I just wanted to look good for you tonight, it’s been two weeks, you know,” You said, eating up how he looked down at you. He made anyone look small next to him, his towering frame was charming, and you were oh-so happy to have it all to yourself.
You batted your eyes at him, watching him shrug. “Maybe you don’t deserve it, you haven’t been a very good girl. And this necklace is very expensive to just be ‘borrowing’,” he taunted, his fingers traced it curiously,y and you giggled a little. “You need it too, I saw you trying to hide your morning wood today,” you said, your hands casually travelling down to his hands, loosening his belt. He pushed your hands off, making you pout. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not until you decide you’ll be good. You’ll give up all the scandals,” Clark said, kneeling and grabbing your hips.
You gave him a suspicious look, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t think so, Superman. That won’t work on me.” Before you knew it, he was dragging you by the hips, bringing your hips to the edge of the couch. “Really? Do you need some more convincing?” he asked, his voice deep, condescending. You rarely saw him like this, he was needy and on the bottom seventy percent of the time. Of course, you liked it that way. “Yes, Clark. I do.” Your whiny tone made him smirk. This was going to be fun. He had no plans on being nice tonight. Clark hadn’t used sex before to sway you, but he was trying it now.
He was tugging your laced panties down as he kissed down your legs, the soft skin of your calves, your thighs, then right in the stretch marks between your legs. You were soaked, and he had smelt it when he walked in and tried to ignore it as best he could. Your aroused scent was so prominent compared to your other pheromones, making it hard to focus sometimes, especially when you got like that in the office. Clark was presented with your puffy pussy, like it had been played with already. He looked up at you, suspicious, before looking back down. “I couldn’t wait…” You admitted quietly. He scowled, shaking his head.
“Terrible,” he grumbled, diving in. He was making out with your clit by now, the wet noises of him sucking and squeezing sensations out of you. He watched your hole squeeze around nothing, and he laughed. “You need me there, too?” Clark asked, and watched you nod desperately. “I do… Please!” you begged, his touch so nice. His fingers dug deeper into the fat of your hips, sucking harder on your bundle of nerves instead of your needy hole. Your legs started to tremble, and your whines were near pornographic as you pleaded for him to do more. He dipped 2 fingers in, the slick collecting on his fingers.
He felt the gummy walls, absorbing his fingers greedily like a lifeline. He made a small groan, the smell making his head cloudy. Clark felt you clench and heard the moans increase in need, he knew this meant you were close. He pulled his fingers and tongue away, you whined at the loss of contact. “Oh, Clark. I was so close,” you whispered, your eyes hazy and distant. “Mm, too bad. You shouldn’t have played with yourself, or taken this necklace, or worked for Lexcorp…” he mumbled, unbuttoning his shirt. You looked up at him, eyes sad and sweet. “That’s not gonna work on my honey, you’re okay,” he cooed, tossing his shirt, revealing his hard, muscled stomach and his big biceps. A small whine at how pretty he was escaped your mouth.
Even in the moment of raw need, you couldn’t help but admire him. Your boyfriend, who saved the world, was everyone’s mad at tomorrow, but he was all yours otherwise. You got his muscles all to yourself, his sweet talking, his affection, and all of his inches to yourself. “So handsome…” You said, your hands going out to touch. He gave a small smile, looking down, and his shoulders rolling as a low chuckle left his lips. Suddenly, Superman didn’t seem so sweet and innocent. “We’re only getting started, and you’re drooling,” he mumbles, wiping the corner of your mouth, ridding it of the spit that had bubbled up there. “I need you, that’s why.” That plea didn’t work, Clark just shook his head. Using his strength to lay you back down.
The unzipping of his zipper fills the room. In one quick tug, he had both his pants and boxers down. Your breath hitches at the sight in front of you. It was still a shock every time to see his pretty cock spring out, hanging in front of you. He was the most alien in his length, you hadn’t seen anything like it—thick and longer than imaginable, it hit every spot at once and stretched you no matter how many times you took it. He was hard now, his tip starting to leak, and you could tell he was struggling to hold back. “Yeah? You can’t even stand looking at it?” he asked, teasing, climbing over you.
You gasped when he leaned forward, grabbing your hands and using one hand to hold them together, keeping them pinned above your head. He looked at the lacy bra still covering you, his hands went to the middle, and he tugged. The fabric ripped in half, allowing your breasts to spill out. “Clark!” you yelled, squirming under him. “Maybe I’ll buy you a new one,” he said, ripping the straps with no effort and throwing it somewhere into the apartment, completely shredded into ribbons. Without warning, he used his free hand to guide his cock into your pussy, slowly pushing in, making your back arch. “Oh, baby… quit squeezing me, 's so tight,” his farm boy drawl spilling out as sweat gathers on his brow and his breath grows heavy and desperate. You wiggle your hips, hoping to get him deeper inside you. This earned a smack on the hip, nothing too harsh, but attention-grabbing. “Be good,” he scolded, pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.
Clark let out a groan that made your skin ignite. It was so animalistic and unlike him, and you had never been more turned on. “Clark, please, I’ll be good! I promise! Don’t stop moving,” you begged, gasps leaving your lips as he pumped his hips. Just as you reach your climax he stops moving, dipping down to press kisses between the valley of your breast. “Tell me that you’re gonna quit working with Lex, come work with the Justice League instead.” his voice was raspy and desperate. You shook your head, “No… I like what I do, you know that.”
He pulled out, leaving you clenching around nothing, and a whine of disappointment slipped from your lips. “I’m sorry!” you yell. Clark doesn’t let up, he starts to kiss each tit, taking one nipple into his mouth and the other into his large hand, grabbing and kneading harshly. You can feel him leaking against your leg. Only then does he push back inside you again. Pounding in, pushing down on your stomach to see the bulge of his massive bulge in your stomach. Now that he had let go of your hands, they dug into the skin of his back, scratching down his tough Kryptonian skin and not even leaving a mark.
Clark brought you to your climax 3 more times, pulling out each time, sucking on your pussy or your breasts in between, before going back, hoping you’ll listen. He was punishing you at excruciating rates that you didn’t know he had in him. You had marks on your hips from his strong hold, and your body was sore from the pressure of him, but the deep hole in your gut with the need to come overpowered all those feelings. Your eyes were half-lidded, and tears ran down your cheeks, half-coherent words spilled from your mouth, and his favorite—your puffy pussy was dripping and clenching around nothing, begging for attention, to release.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, baby. Quit all the scandals and work with me, and you can come all over my dick just like you’ve been waiting for. If not, you won’t get to for two more weeks. So what is it?” Clark asked, his length resting in your belly; you could see it pulsing. You knew if you said no, he’d bully into your tight warmth and pull out to come on your stomach before you get a chance to. You couldn’t go two more weeks without an orgasm from him. You sobbed now, needing this more than you’ve ever needed anything. “I promise! Kal-El, please!” you whimpered. He looked at you, surprised, never having heard something that desperate and pathetic in his life. He twitched more on your stomach at how needy it was.
Shortly, he grabbed you by the hips, flipping you onto your knees. “Okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of it,” he reassured, pushing into you slowly. Clark heard your breath sputtering from your crying and need. The stretch felt so good, and he needed it. Soon, the only sound in the room was the sound of your skin slapping against each other. The loud squelching of your tight pussy was driving him crazy. Now that he had bullied you into submission, he was all sweet-talking. “You’re taking me so good, baby. I‘m sorry I was so mean to you… You like me taking you from behind like this?” You only gave incoherent responses and squeaks of pleasure.
His grinding was relentless, his hand snaking under your stomach and down between your legs. Your release came crashing over you with no control. “I’m com—“ your eyes rolled back, and he pumped in and out, rubbing your clit and fucking you through your orgasm. “Such a good girl, yeah, you took it so good.” You whined and collapsed, your face landing into the cushions. Clark was close to. “Where do you want it?” he asked, lifting you, so you weren't muffled. “My stomach…” You croaked out weakly.
When he pulled out, you rolled over, your bare body on display for him. You watched him jerk himself off until eventually spilling his load all over your stomach, some even reaching your breasts. He always made sure you came first, even if you’ve been bad. “Thank you… Oh, thank you so much,” he rasped out, collapsing on top of you after all the denials and holding himself back.
“Was I too rough?” he asked, and you shook your head no, though his denying around five orgasms had been pretty fucked up. And he got his way in the end. Clark traced the necklace on your neck, slowly unclipping it and setting it on the coffee table. He scooped you up, your legs too shaky to do anything. He set you on the bathroom counter, where you slumped back against the wall, watching him start the bath, making it perfect for you. Then grab a rag and wipe down your stomach from his leftover release. “You’re never this quiet. Maybe I should edge you more often,” he said, grinning ear to ear, before scooping you up and setting you in the bath, where he climbed in behind you.
You scowled at him, leaning back into his chest. “Rude, Kal-El. Very rude.” He laughed, rubbing your hair with his hands. “Sorry, sorry…”
The rest of the night was spent on you; he pampered you and then cuddled you, massaging your aching legs that he had caused you. It didn’t take long to fall asleep, that had been the most intense moment of your life.
You did give up Lexcorp, helping the Justice League from the side, now that you knew Lex’s technology better than anyone. Green Lantern and Mr. Terrific were arguing over a good name for you, and still hadn’t found one that stuck yet.
Who knew all it took was Superman’s dick to set you straight?
A/n: This is what i think living with a man who loves you looks like (which i've been told is incredibly delusional and clearly just a fantasy of mine but #needthat) Also quick question, English is not my first language and i've seen people write "come" and "cum" which one is used more? or more correct? i feel like i should know this 😬
Summary: Clark being a handsy freak, fully devoted to the art of making you come.
Classification: Smut +18 | Fingering, nipple play, dry humping and praise + depictions of female orgasms
Word count: 2,2k
Divider by me ;)
You had never been one to orgasm easily. You’d had them before on your own, in quiet and careful moments but never with a partner and certainly never this often, this intensely. That changed the moment you started dating Clark and now that the two of you had moved in together… It felt like it happened all the time.
On weekday mornings, you and Clark usually fell into a comfortable routine where one of you would shower while the other made breakfast, trading off depending on who needed to leave first. But when Clark was the one manning the stove, there was always the risk that he’d cheat the system.
Steam was curling lazily around you when the sound of the shower curtain rings rattling broke through your thoughts, right before a rush of cooler air slipped in as the curtain was pulled back and in stepped a very naked, very unapologetic Clark. His hands were already eager and insistent, sliding along the damp curve of your hips.
“What about breakfast?” you asked, not turning toward him, though you could practically feel the grin stretching across his face.
“That’s what food delivery is for,” he murmured against the back of your neck, his voice deep and playful as his fingers curled around your hips and pulled you flush against him. You felt the solid press of his body almost overwhelming in the misty space. “We’ve got fifteen minutes.”
“For?” you breathed, though your voice betrayed you, already breaking under the anticipation.
His hands drifted lower, one steadying you while the other slid between your thighs. Two deft fingers parted your folds with unhurried confidence, finding your clit with an accuracy that made your knees threaten to buckle. The first sweep of his touch had you gasping, the sound bouncing sharply off the tile walls.
Even Clark’s breath hitched as his sensitive hearing caught every shift in your voice and every stutter in your breathing. It fed something primal in him and you felt it in the way his body tensed behind you. His cock was unsurprisingly already hard, pressed against the curve of your ass but he never pushed for his own release.
His focus was entirely on you, on wringing every desperate sound from your lips until you were shaking against him. His excuse? You deserved to start the day relaxed, unrushed and thoroughly loved on, body and soul, until there wasn’t a trace of tension left in you.
His touch was unrelenting yet precise, coaxing you toward that sharp, dizzy peak you’d once thought impossible to reach with anyone else…and with Clark, you knew it was only the beginning.
You didn’t know people could genuinely come from nipple play, until it happened to you.
You’d been holed up in the study for four straight hours, eyes glued to your laptop, fingers tapping away as you chased one piece of research after another. Clark had brought you lunch earlier, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before quietly leaving again, but when he returned to collect the now half-eaten plate, he caught the sound of a quiet, weary sigh on his way out.
He stopped at the doorway, watching you for a beat before striding back in. “Can you please stand?” he asked, his tone calm but carrying that subtle authority that made your pulse skip.
You glanced up, brows knitting, waiting for an explanation that would never come…unlike you. “Clark, I’m in the middle of–”
“I won’t ask you twice,” he interrupted smoothly, voice firm. “You know I can do it myself.”
You chuckled under your breath because you knew exactly what that meant, he wasn’t above simply picking you up and moving you, he’d also do it with infuriating gentleness. Still, you rose, only for him to drop into your chair and tug you effortlessly onto his lap.
“What’s this about?” you murmured, already melting a little against him as his large hands settled on your waist.
“Taking a break,” he said casually, as if the way his palms were sliding under your shirt was perfectly normal. “Tell me about your research.”
So you tried, words spilling haltingly as his warm fingers traced slow, deliberate paths up your ribs until they cupped your breasts. His chin rested on your shoulder, his voice a low hum of encouragement while his thumbs brushed over your now hard nipples.
When you faltered mid-sentence, breath catching, he murmured, “Keep going. I’m listening.” And he was, though mostly listening to every change in your breathing and every subtle shift in your voice as he rolled your nipples between his fingers with expert precision, coaxing wave after wave of heat through you.
Your body tightened in response, thighs pressing together reflexively as the pressure kept building until you were trembling, head tipping back against his shoulder. He never rushed you, never broke his steady rhythm, just kept you balanced perfectly on that knife-edge until pleasure rolled through you sharp and sweet.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered, one hand splayed firmly over your belly as if holding you together just to make you fall apart again. “Relax. You know I don’t like seeing you stressed.”
And you could only lean into him, boneless and dazed, wondering how on earth you’d ever get any work done in this house again.
Other times, it wasn’t stress or work keeping you up, it was that restless, inexplicable inability to fall asleep. You’d toss and turn beside him for what felt like hours, huffing in frustration before flopping onto your side with a loud sigh.
That was always Clark’s cue.
Before you could shift again, he’d hook an arm over your waist and pull you flush against him, caging you in like you were some wayward blanket he refused to let escape.
“You’ve been at it for 20 minutes,” he whispered into your hair, his voice a warm rumble. “What’s wrong? You’re not cold, it’s not too hot and your heart’s at a normal rate, except for a few jumps every time you flip over.”
You squinted into the dark. “Are you using your powers on me?”
“I always use my powers on you,” he mumbled and you could practically hear the grin.
You rolled your eyes and got more comfortable in his arms but the movement pressed your hips more firmly back against him. The low, involuntary groan it pulled from his chest made your clit pulse.
“Are you frustrated about somethin’?” he asked, voice going a touch lower.
“Just go to sleep, Clark. I’ll go take a walk or something.”
“Or,” he interrupted smoothly, “you could get off on me. Same effect, faster results and you stay where I can see you.”
You were about to scoff but the heat already curling in your belly told a different story and so you did. Tangled in his arms and unable to move more than your hips, you grinded against the hard length straining against his boxers. The restriction made it all the more maddening, making pleasure coil tight until it burst over you and not just once either.
By the third orgasm, your limbs had gone boneless and your body melted into the bed as sleep pulled at you with irresistible force.
The only one left wide awake, aching and frustrated was Clark. His powered stamina meant he could’ve gone for hours but with nowhere to put it, all he could do was lie there with his boxers damp from a twice-over release.
If there was a hell designed specifically for the superpowered, this might’ve been it.
But your favorite of those random orgasms was definitely movie night.
Dinner had gone smoothly and now the two of you had settled on the couch with a blanket tossed over your laps. No matter how sprawling the couch seemed, you always ended up in the same spot, curled against him.
Under the blanket, his hand slipped under your underwear, his large fingers sliding in and curling just the way you loved. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you had never been this sexually satisfied in your life.
He couldn’t resist watching your reactions, the way your body quivered under his touch and how your breathing caught in little hiccups that made his own pulse quicken. His lips brushed your temple, nuzzling into your hair as his fingers worked, coaxing pleasure from every nerve ending.
“You like that, baby?” he murmured, his voice low and rough against your ear. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
You nodded, thumb brushing over his forearm in a silent affirmation. This wasn’t just about physical satisfaction, it was the intimacy of it and the way he could make you melt while you were both just existing together. Clark loved having you this close and feeling every subtle tremble and shiver that ran through your body at the slightest touch. You whimpered softly, a quiet sound of surrender that made him grin against your skin.
"That's my good girl," he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I love how responsive you are to me."
You hummed in contentment, eyes half-lidded as the TV flickered in front of you, though your attention was far from the film. Every slow blink, every parting of your lips and shiver of your body under his touch was a testament of your trust in him, allowing yourself to be consumed by the sensation rather than thinking about the ending.
Your legs shifted slightly then, opening more as you relaxed fully into him, your body responding eagerly.
Clark smiled at the sight, his lips grazing, nuzzling and pressing soft kisses as his fingers continued their steady intrusion. He always wanted to prolong this, draw it out, teasing and building you bit by bit while feeling the way your nails dug into his unbreakable skin as your pleasure grew. He savored how your muscles tensed and quivered under his touch, each gasp and whine only spurring him on while guiding him to just the right pressure and rhythm.
"Enjoying the movie, baby?" he teased, his voice low, though he already knew the answer. Your gaze was fixed on the screen sometimes but your mind and body were entirely elsewhere.
His fingers moved faster now, skilled and confident, curling, pressing and drawing you higher while his thumb circled your clit in a steady, rhythmic motion.
You threw your head back, letting out a moan that rang clearly through the room, your body arching into his hand as your knee splayed against his thigh. Every nerve seemed on fire, every inch of your skin alive with sensation as Clark held you close while he pushed and pulled, coaxing you closer to that familiar edge again and again, by then the flickering TV ceased to exist.
You were lost in him and he reveled in that total, perfect surrender.
"Such a beautiful sight," he awed, lips brushing along your neck in a tender kiss, teeth grazing ever so lightly. "All soft and blissed out… and I’m not even done yet."
“Unghhh, fuck. Clark–” you gasped. “I–”
"I know, baby. I know," he said in a mock empathetic tone, fingers continuing their unrelenting assault. "Feels good, doesn’t it? You like what I’m doing to you?"
Your breath hitched and moans spilled freely from you, every sound a confirmation of the pleasure he was giving. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered more to yourself than to him, voice trembling with need.
"You deserve it, baby, don’t you think?" He paused. "I’ll give you anything you want, anything you need. You know that. Just keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?… let me take care of you."
You quivered in his grasp, hips tilting slightly against his hand. “’M close,” you moaned, voice breaking as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, each sound feeding the fire that built between the two of you.
Clark’s grin was audible in the warmth of his low chuckle, his hands expert and insistent, holding you on the cusp while making sure every moment stretched deliciously, until your entire body surrendered in shivers and cries that filled the room.
You gasped and trembled, hips pressing insistently against him, letting out the loudest, most unrestrained moan yet as your body arched and your thighs closed around his forearm. Clark drank it in while a mix of awe and satisfaction flooded his chest. He could feel your tension breaking, releasing under his touch and it made him ache with pride and want.
"So darn gorgeous," he murmured against your temple, lips brushing lightly over your skin as his fingers slowly coaxed you through your release. His free hand slid into your hair, threading through the strands, cradling your head and keeping you pressed securely against him, holding you even as your body shivered in the throes of pleasure.
You let out a deep, shuddering sigh as the last waves of sensation rolled through you and only once he was sure you were completely spent did he withdraw his hand. Bringing two soaked fingers to his mouth before licking them clean with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He wrapped his arms snugly around you and placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead.
"Told you I’d take care of you, sweetheart," he said, voice rich with satisfaction and tenderness, fingers now tracing idle, gentle patterns along your back. "Feel good now?"
You sighed, closing your eyes as you sank fully into the afterglow, letting your breath find a steady rhythm. “So good… missed half the movie, though.” you admitted, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips.
Clark chuckled quietly, nuzzling the top of your head as he held you close.
"Look at you, all blissed out already and the night just started,"
“Give me five minutes and I'll take more than two fingers. ” You mumbled, voice still thick with lingering pleasure.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, you will.”
Clark Kent loves nothing more than making you cum. His excuse? You make him feel human.
A/n: Don’t hesitate to let me know in the comments if you guys want the extended version of any of these scenarios!
— 18+ mdni !! Men who suck their cum out of your pussy
After he’s fucked you senseless and pumped you full of load after load, he doesn’t pull out and leave you dripping. No — he pushes your thighs wide open, stares at the messy creampie leaking from your used hole, and dives in.
He buries his face between your legs and starts licking long, filthy stripes up your pussy, scooping his own thick cum out with his tongue. The wet, obscene sounds fill the room as he sucks and slurps, pushing his tongue deep inside you to get every drop.
“Mmm, fuck… taste so good mixed with your pussy,” he groans against your sensitive folds, the vibration making you twitch. He’s messy about it — cum and your juices coating his chin, lips, and nose as he eats you out with zero shame.
He sucks on your clit while pushing two fingers inside you, fucking his cum back in and out, then licking it all up again. He makes sure to gather a big mouthful of his warm cum before crawling back up your body. He grabs your jaw, tilts your head, and kisses you deep — pushing his own load into your mouth in a filthy, sloppy kiss.
You moan into it as you swap his cum back and forth, tongues sliding together, strings of it dripping down your chins. He groans when you swallow some and feed the rest back into his mouth, both of you tasting like pure sex.
He pulls back with a cum-smeared grin, licking his lips. “Now open your legs again. I’m not done cleaning you up yet.”
Pairing - wc: David!Clark Kent x Gf!Reader - 2.4k
Summary: Clark tells you "it's fine" when you cancel on him again for work. Liar, Liar...
Tags: 18+, mdni, masturbation (m), detailed fantasy sequence (69, f + m receiving oral, p in v), Clark cums thinking about you, pussy pronouns, breeding kink, brief mention of pregnancy (no you are not) Established relationship, use of petnames (baby, hon, sweetheart), just stupid, unedited brainrot
I'll need to start tagging submissions as "finger lickin' good." gif by @ahrigifs
main masterlist | Mrs. Kent Diaries
Maybe he was in a rut.
Clark couldn't be certain, but the timing sure felt cruel. Silly. Damning. Devastating.
Like getting your period the morning of a long-planned seaside romantic getaway.
Three nights in a row, you’d called him honey-sweet and apologetic, exhaustion clearly dragging every syllable.
"It'll be another late night and early morning at work. All week, honestly." A tired yawn crackled through the receiver. "I think I’m going to crash at my place rest of the week, and see you this weekend. I’m so sorry, baby. I miss you, believe me."
Clark vehemently insisted there was nothing to apologize for, never mind the fever prickling beneath his skin, and that his cock jumped at the simple sound of your voice.
"How many times have I called you at ungodly hours for the same reasons? Deadline or disaster? Have you ever held it against me?" Was his counter, and before you replied with a deadpanned, "Actually, Clark, now that you bring it up..." He hurried on before you could finish.
He was A Man. A grown man who could survive five nights without making sweet, sweet passionate love to you.You needed to focus and rest, and he'd wait centuries to have your undivided attention if that was what loving you required. Fortunately, it was only until the weekend.
"I miss you, but most of all, I love you, sweetheart. It's fine!" All of this was said with his free hand locked around his knee, blunt nails pressing hard enough to leave pale crescents in the skin while he tried to force himself into believing it too.
But everyone knew the unspoken rule: anyone who said "it's fine!" that cheerful were liars.
.
The tension finally boiled over the second Clark stepped through his front door the following evening. He carelessly tossed his glasses and phone on his bedside table, pressed a fist to his mouth, and released a sigh heavy enough to empty his lungs.
Was it pathetic to be half-hard and aching just from missing you this badly? Or was that devotion? Yearning? Or, as Steve would undoubtedly tease with that little smirk, "whipped?"
Speaking of – Clark tugged his belt loose in a sharp tug. Dress shirt buttons followed. Zipper. Slacks shoved down his thighs, until he's whipping his cock from the confines of his slacks with a shaky, relieved sigh. The cool apartment air did nothing to help soothe the heat coursing through him.
If anything, fredom made the weight of his need more worse. The heavy pulse, the glossy bead already gathering at the slit, the way his length kicked against his stomach as though reaching for a body that wasn’t there.
He tried the cold shower first. Sensible, right? Stood under the icy spray, willing the rut to settle, willing his body to behave like the grown man he kept insisting he was. He rifled through unsexy thoughts: taxes, Perry's editorial calendar, the tamales Ma and Pa raved about when he last spoke to them.
Ninety seconds later, water was streaming over his closed eyes while every drop slipping down his chest became your fingers. Your palms spreading over his stomach. Your nails scratching lightly through the dark trail beneath his navel. Your warm mouth chasing the water lower, lower, until your knees struck tile and that pretty, wicked smile curved against the base of his cock.
He nearly broke the shower handle off with a frustrated growl, cock still brutally stiff between his legs, skin flushed crimson despite the chill.
In his haze, Clark climbed into the empty bed nude, triggering another cruel wave of reminders. Cold sheets welcomed him instead of your legs. Silence settled where your sleepy chatter should have been. No warm body curled beneath his arm. No soft complaint when he crowded too close. No hand wandering beneath waistbands because neither of you had ever been particularly convincing when pretending you only wanted to cuddle.
He stretched out across the sheets until his face buried into your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of your shampoo, your shower gel, your favorite perfume dabbed behind your ear, you, you, you.
The scents went straight to his cock, and the urge hit like a meteor. With a pained whimper, Clark rolled onto his stomach and pressed his stiff, leaking member against the expensive sheets you bought when you first started spending the night.
Eight-hundred thread count, you’d told him proudly.
He wondered whether they were supposed to survive a sexually frustrated Kryptonian. Probably not.
.
The grinding began slowly, desperately, and experimental. Pleasure washed over him. Again, harder. Soon, wet smears marked every thrust, the motion creating a delicious friction against his sensitive tip, sharp enough to make his breath hitch.
Soon, slow wasn’t nearly enough to scratch that impossible itch.
His hips moved harder, faster, each desperate thrust leaving another damp streak across the fabric. His fists twisted into the sheets on either side of his head until the tendons rose along his wrists and the linen began to fray between his fingers. His tongue rested wetly against his bottom lip as he panted into your pillow, groaning each time his hips pressed down and the fabric dragged tightly along the underside of his cock.
The sounds spilling from him were embarrassingly primitive.
Low grunts. Broken breaths. A needy whine he would deny even under Kryptonite.
Eventually, they all melted into the only coherent thing he could say: your name.
Your name, muffled, over and over while your Clark humped the mattress in a poor attempt to fuck the fantasy of you out of his system. Bless his heart, it wasn't working.
If anything, it sharpened his hazy imagination into vivid, filthy focus. Your weight settling over him, knees planted wide on either side of his head, as you leaned forward in that sixty-nine position you’d joked about one too many times to make him suspect something.
You'd take his cock in hand with a slow stroke, press a kiss at the tip, stretching and hollowing your mouth around him until your nose brushed the heavy weight of his balls when you forced yourself deeper.
From underneath, he’d have the perfect view.
The generous curve of your plump ass hovered over his face. The delicate slope of your back arched deeper. The soft underside of your thighs framing his face while you lowered your core onto his mouth, already wet enough to leave a shining streak across his lips. His thumbs would dig into the soft flesh to keep you from clamping shut around his head while he buried his face between your legs. He would lick you messy, broad stripes through your puffy folds, sucking your clit until your hips bucked against his smothering mouth, then push his tongue into your dripping hole while the tip of his cock bruised the back of your throat.
You’d happily choke around his cock a little. The tight spasm of your throat wound squeeze the head.
Let your saliva spill down his shaft in warm, messy trails until it gathered along his happy trail, and he’d moan directly into your pussy,
"She's beautiful from this angle."
"She tastes so sweet."
"Shd clenched perfectly around my tongue just now. Please, sweetheart, please have Her do it again?"
Golly, Clark’s hips jerked hard enough to shove the mattress and frame several inches across the floor.
Continuing his fantasy, he would then coo about filling Her up so full, until She was overflowing with his come, until you were marked as his inside and out. At the same time, your mouth worked his cock with wet, sloppy determination, swallowing until your throat refused and pulling back with strings of spit still connecting your lips to the swollen tip.
He’d imagine you pulling off long enough to look over your shoulder, glassy-eyed and breathless, begging in a raspy voice to breed you, baby, put every drop where it belongs with his cum already on your tongue before he’d realize even giving it to you.
That scenario had Clark rutting faster, the bed creaking, squeaking, shifting under his barely-contained strength. His eyes suddenly flared hot with unrestrained heat vision, twin red beams scorching pinpoints through the mattress and most likely the floorboards before squeezing them shut.
Precum soaked a dark, sticky patch into the sheets beneath his cock, and his lower abdomen made every grind slick. A dark lock of hair clung to his forehead. His drool made the pillow damp against his cheek, and still.
Still, he couldn’t stop whining your name, couldn’t stop chasing the phantom sensation of your body molded along on his torso, and your slick coating his chin and dripping down his neck
Take him deeper. Sit down harder. Use his mouth.
Somehow, the fantasy deepened.
He’d pull you from his face and roll you beneath him before you finished. Your legs would be spread around his hips, knees pressed to your breasts while he lined himself up and pushed inside. He could almost feel you wet and hot around him. So, so tight after days apart that the first stroke would make both of you shake.
His mouth would cover yours while he fucked you open, tasting himself on your tongue and you on his lips. Every thrust would drive your body higher against the bed. Every needy sound you made would disappear into his mouth while the headboard struck the wall in a rhythm the neighbors could never mistake for anything else.
Mine. The word slid into the fantasy with frightening ease. My sweetheart. My girl. My perfect, exhausted Love
Spread beneath him and finally too ruined to think about anything else. Clark pictured his hand closing around your jaw, thumb slipping between your lips as he told you exactly what he intended to do.
Fill you, and keep filling you. Have my fingers gather my spend from your thighs and push it back deep before it tried to leak out again.
No matter how many times he admired the image of white from your swollen pussy, he groaned so loudly the windows trembled.
Gosh, how he wanted to breed you properly. To pin your hips down and fill you before the first load had stopped leaking.
Wanted your thighs sticky, your belly wet, the sheets beneath you soaked with both of you.
Wanted your voice exhausted because of him instead of work.
Until it stuck...or didn't.
The thought should have slowed him. Instead, it made his balls draw tight.
Did he want to watch your body change because of him? Did you? Or was this simply the rut talking? Some ugly, instinctive Kryptonian corner of him desperate to erase five lonely nights by marking you so thoroughly that even distance couldn’t make him doubt where he belonged—
With a mix of relief and disappointment, Clark came hard with a harsh cry of your name, hips jerking in short, punishing bursts as thick ropes of his spend spilled out onto the warm linen. More followed with each weakening thrust, hot come smearing along his cock and stomach as he continued to grind through the oversensitive aftershocks.
The orgasm left him shaking, heaving, and glazed in a cold sweat, drool still slick on his lips. His lips started to tingle from the real possibility of having you exactly like this on the weekend, letting him ruin you the same way he ruined these damn nice sheets, just more.
His spent cock give a weak, hopeful twitch.
.
The phone rang and Clark startled violently, eyes flying open as your name and that soft, smiling contact photo he’d taken one sleepy Sunday morning lit up the screen.
"Ahh, shoot!"
He fumbled for it, one frantic reach nearly sending the phone skidding off the table. He caught it on the second attempt and pressed it to his ear, swallowing against a throat gone dry, and breathing remained uneven.
Your suspicion came through the line immediately after his greeting."You sound funny. Everything okay?"
"Yeah—no, I’m fine." His voice cracked around the age-old lie. Clark cleared his throat, forcing something painfully casual into it. "Everything’s fine. Just… Superman duties, you know how it is. Tell me about your day."
You hummed, unconvinced, but too exhausted to press him. Instead, you continued talking, your voice low and worn-soft through the receiver, each affectionate little pause slipping beneath his skin. You told him about work, about a coworker who had nearly driven you insane, about the lunch you had forgotten to eat until far too late.
Clark listened, asked the right questions, and made the appropriate sympathetic noises between pauses. Guilt tightened his chest when you asked about his day, speaking to him in that drowsy voice you usually reserved for the minutes before falling asleep against his chest.
Unfortunately, another part of him remained painfully aware that you were lying in bed somewhere else. Perhaps wearing one of his old shirts you now claimed as yours. Perhaps curled on your side with bare thighs brushing together beneath the hem, touching the place where his body usually pressed against yours and missing him badly enough to ache too.
Clark knew better than to let his thoughts wander again, but then you called him baby once more.
His cock twitched against the cooling, sticky mess, then again. The spent length began to stiffen beneath his stomach, dragging slowly through his own come as blood rushed back into it.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut.
Your tired voice kept flowing through the phone, sweet and trusting, while he buried his face deeper into your pillow and inhaled what remained of your scent.
His hips shifted restlessly, chasing relief he had barely finished giving himself. Shame should have stopped him.
Instead, the idea that you were talking so innocently while he lay covered in his own release, getting hard again because you had called him baby of all things, made fresh need tighten low in his stomach.
Every filthy thought returned twice as vivid.
Your mouth. Your pussy. Your hoarse little plea to fill you.
How silly of him to think one damning orgasm would be enough.
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AN - This is super quick, but I wanted to do this trend because it has me kicking my feet and giggling!! (based off the tiktok trend)
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“express yourself don’t repress yourself.”
Back when you and Clark Kent were kids, you spent time up in your room. Back then it was all innocent—-sprawled out on the scratchy carpet, playing board games and video games. You had the new ones hooked up to your upstairs TV that you and your siblings always shared. Clark would play, sitting under the blanket next to you. This happened well into your teen years, considering you were best friends. You knew all of each other’s secrets and habits, like the back of your hand. You knew he could fly, and he knew about your most embarrassing moments ever. Your parents wanted him out by 10 always, said that boys were no good after 10. You threw your hands up as he won the stupid game on Nintendo again. The air between you was light, the Moonlight casting through the windows, revealing the built up dust. You both looked at the clock before looking back at each other. 10:05. “One more round?” you ask at the same time, laughing together as you pressed play. The sound of the buttons clicking into place burning into your minds.
Years later, in the big city of Metropolis where you had moved together to start your blossoming careers—-and his debut as superman. Now you were past best friends, roommates had turned into someone to ward the nightmares away, private dinners in the confines of your apartment until eventually getting together, just like everyone had always guessed.
The silk under your back, your champagne glasses left abandoned on the nightstand as he rutted into you greedily, his glasses slipping down his nose as the muscles of his back rippled. The sweet stench of your sweat and arousal filling the room made it all the more intimate, the amber of the candles made him look edible. Your face buried into the muscle of his biceps, he mumbled pathetically, his forearms holding him up with each thrust into you. “Please, let me bring you there…” he begs, increasing his pace, the bed frame hitting the wall. For a man of steel, he was mush. “I’m close… Clark,” you whine, your nails digging into his back. He moved a hand down to rub the sensitive bud between your legs, you let out small noises that made him twitch inside you. Your legs start to shake as you approach your climax, your orgasm spilling over you. His stamina was intense, nudging the right spot inside you over and over while rubbing perfect circles in your heat. You yelped into his shoulder, shuddering. He kissed you down from your high before looking at you hopefully. “Can you handle one more round, sweetheart?” he asked, putting his glasses on the nightstand and his hands found purchase on your thighs, holding you safely. Like home.
Description: Clark always wants to be so polite. His girl wants to climb him like a tree. I think he knows.
Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (masturbation, oral [m and f receiving], p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, scent kink, size kink, clark is a horny mf’r for his girl pretty much)
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: so much for this being a drabble. technically part of a series, but can be read as a stand alone fic
read part 1 here | part 2 right here
Weeks had passed since that first date.
Weeks of feeling like you would positively explode if a gentle breeze blew the wrong way on your skin after being near Clark.
You’d been on a couple more dates, now, ending in those soft, polite kisses. You wanted to rip his clothes off, but he seemed so shy and gentlemanly. It hardly seemed fair to jump him out of nowhere.
Clark, however, was feeling even more impatient than you. Every time he was close, he could smell you. He’d become accustomed to what you smelled like in different moods, and it seemed you really liked it any time he let his eyes linger on you. Or when he kissed you. Or held your hand, or hugged you, or… like, most of the time he was near you in general.
It was making him crazy.
He smiled at you across the table in another meeting at the Daily Planet, noting how you shifted a little bit after catching his eye. He felt his heart flutter every time he saw you react to him in any way. As much as he wanted to be inside of you, he wasn’t some pervert. He actually liked you. A lot. He just also felt hot under the collar any time he thought of you.
It was worse when you got a new perfume. Not that he didn’t like what you wore before, but now? The scent with the natural smell of your skin mixed together was intoxicating. It was also embarrassing. Nearly every time he could smell the trail of scent you’d leave behind you, he was fighting tooth and nail not to get hard; and often failed.
At the end of your third date, he’d kissed you a little harder than he normally would. It made you weak in the knees, and even more needy than you usually were with him. His big hands dipping a little lower on your waist than usual, and the most gentle brush of his tongue against yours. You wanted more, but true to Clark fashion, he just had to be so coy and sweet.
You almost groaned in frustration when he pulled away, his cheeks a little pink as he flashed you a smile.
“Goodnight,” Clark murmured softly. “I… I really like this. Being with you.”
Fuck. You knew it’d be a long night the second you were alone. You swallowed and nodded.
“Yeah. I do too.”
He grinned again, kissing your cheek. “Okay. See you at work?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
He watched you walk inside, letting his eyes trail down your body when he was sure you wouldn’t notice. He couldn’t handle it. Being around you all night, watching you laugh at all his stupid jokes, smelling that gorgeous smell that was all you and the sweet perfume you wore… he needed relief. Badly.
Clark found himself at home within seconds, stumbling into his room in a love-drunk stupor. He ripped at the buttons of his shirt, breathing shaky and excited. He pushed the shirt off, tugging off his undershirt as well. He shoved his pants down in one go, dropping down onto his bed with a hand wrapping around his leaky cock. He let himself picture you.
“Please,” he whispered to nobody but himself, hips starting to jut up to meet his hand.
He couldn’t help but think of how it’d feel if it was your hand touching him like this. How big he’d look beneath your fingers. If you’d use your mouth, your pretty lips struggling to fit him in comfortably. If you’d swallow around him as you tried not to gag, his cock touching the back of your throat. He stroked himself faster, throbbing and pulsing with the need to cum. He wondered if he’d be able to smell you soaking yourself as he came down your throat, and how long it would take for him to make you come on his tongue as a thanks. How you’d move against him, if you’d stay still and let him work or if you’d be so desperate that you wouldn’t be able to help but to grind against his face. He’d be overjoyed with either option.
He reached his other hand down, wrapping both firmly around himself, thrusting up into his fists, pretending it could be you. But he knew it wasn’t the same. He knew you’d be so soft and warm. Tight and cozy and wet around his length as he bounced you on his lap until you were cockdrunk and a little bit dumb. He liked the idea of being the only person who could make it so that you’d turn off your overactive brain for a little while.
He pushed himself into his hands, imagining every possible scenario, certain he could smell you even now. He breathed heavy, murmuring little pleas and whines of your name before he was tensing, hips still jerking as he spilled over his knuckles. It was a full minute of cumming to the thought of his pretty girl. His girlfriend? Maybe he should properly ask, he thought. He wanted you as his.
He glanced down, his own release drenching his hands and thighs. He took a deep breath. Time for a shower.
You saw him at work the next day, his face a little blushy every time he glanced at you. It was sweet, but a little… unusual?
He was generally shy and it wasn’t unheard of for him to get a little red-faced every now and then. But all day? Geez.
“Hey,” you said softly, walking up to him at his desk that afternoon. He looked up with wide eyes beneath his glasses. “I’m finished for the day. You want to go get dinner or something?”
“Oh! I, uh… after work is no good. But maybe later? Dessert? I can bring it to your place?” He offered, glossing over the fact that he was going to be busy with the Justice Gang. He hadn’t exactly let the Superman secret slip yet. “If that’s okay.”
“You want to come over?”
He blinked. “Oh… I, uh—”
“I’d like that,” you offer, smiling at his flustered expression. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Oh. Okay,” he breathed out, his smile bright. “Great. Maybe like… eight? Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Great.”
You smiled at him again, then left. You went home, body buzzing in anticipation. It’s not like you planned on attacking him or anything. Just… suggesting more. Also, you figured you should probably let him know that you’d one hundred percent seen him use his super-speed out of the corner of your eye a couple weeks ago. So much for that ‘secret’ of his.
You made yourself a light dinner, then took a long, hot shower. You dressed down, a thin tank top and soft pair of cotton shorts. Nothing overtly sexy, but not covering much. You figured that the hint of a nipple through fabric would probably do the job for someone as polite as Clark. It turned out to be true, judging by the way he tried to not let you notice he was staring at your chest the second you opened your front door for him.
“Hey,” you greeted with a grin.
“H-hiya. Hi.” He swallowed, trying to make sure he kept his eyes on your face. Nowhere else. But gosh, a tank top and shorts never looked so provocative before. He lifted up the small cheesecake in his hand. “Brought dessert. I remember you liked the strawberry cheesecake from the office Christmas party last year.”
You smiled softly. “That’s sweet. Thank you. Come on in.”
He ducked his head, clearly happy that he’d done good. He stepped inside of your apartment, looking around curiously. He toed off his shoes as you took the cake and brought it to the kitchen. He trailed after you, eyes darting between your home and your ass. He was feeling a little hot.
“You have a, uh… a nice place. I like it. Smells good in here.”
“Thanks. I try to keep it clean.”
He hummed once, leaning against the counter as you popped the lid off the cake.
“Not just that,” he said softly, watching your hands as you started cutting into it. “It just smells like— you. Your perfume I guess. Your skin.”
“You know what my skin smells like?” You laugh.
He flushed. “Oh. Gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so creepy. You just… you just smell good. You smell like you. It’s nice.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet.”
“Oh.”
“I like you, Clark. Quit worrying so much,” you mention, glancing at him as you lick a bit of the strawberry syrup off your thumb.
His eyes followed the movement, his tongue running over his lip once. “I like you too. A lot.”
You just grin softly. You plate up the cheesecake, handing him both slices.
“Go sit in the living room. I’m gonna grab some wine.”
He faltered for a second. “I don’t really drink much.”
“I know. It’s only one glass, I know you do that sometimes. I don’t intend on taking advantage of you, you know?”
“R-right. Okay.”
You watched as he walked away. God, he has a cute butt.
Two slices of cheesecake and three glasses of wine later, two for you and one for him, you were definitely getting a little cozier. He pretended not to notice how you leaned into his side; you pretended not to notice his hand on your knee.
“Cat totally thought you and Big Blue were hooking up, by the way.”
Clark blinked, looking away from the movie you’d put on. “Pardon?”
“Since you’re always up his ass. She asked me after me and you started dating if you were getting some super-dick on the side,” you mention with a short laugh.
“Super-d—? That’s inappropriate.”
“And hilarious.”
“Oh, please.”
You chuckle, smiling up at him. Despite his verbal protest, his cute little dimples were still poking into his cheeks. He just looked at you, his eyes wide and sparkling.
“I really do, ya know… like you.”
“You said that,” you reply softly.
“I know. I mean it.”
You just look at him, heart fluttering and body thrumming as he leaned in, his lips on yours. It started off soft. Just a few soft, lingering kisses. You snuck a hand into his dark hair, not tugging but definitely gripping. Judging by the shaky breath that left him, you assumed he liked that. Your assumption was proven correct as he deepened the kiss, one strong arm snaking around your waist to pull you into his chest. You took that as your cue, swinging a leg over his hips, settling on his lap and right over the bulge in his pants.
He gasped your name against your lips. “Geez.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, hands running over your hips and waist. “Yeah.”
Clark felt like he could explode, metaphorically and physically, when you started kissing him again. You were aroused. He knew it well. It invaded his senses and made him dizzy, pulling your hips over his before he could think twice about it. He groaned in the back of his throat when he felt the friction against the extremely obvious erection straining to get out. He nearly passed out when you made an equally needy sound.
“I like you,” he breathed out, voice wrecked already.
“I know, Clark.”
“A lot.”
You smiled, rolling your hips again with his instruction. “I know. I can feel how much you like me, you know?”
He whimpered. Full-on, whiny little whimper. He was smart, he knew he was. And strong. He could pull a building off its foundation. But now? With you on top of him, rubbing yourself on him like this? He felt weak and brainless. Every single blood cell that should be in his brain went straight to his cock. The only reason he didn’t feel embarrassed is the fact that he knew you felt the same way, your pretty face glossed over with want. He mumbled your name once, looking up at you with big, wet eyes.
“You done playing gentleman?” you asked teasingly, brow raised.
He pouted. “I am a gentleman.”
“I know, baby. But I am a woman who wants my boyfriend to touch me for once.”
He groaned. Boyfriend. Yay! “Golly.”
You laughed, for a moment. But it was cut awfully short when his hands snaked under your top, cupping your bare breasts. You let out a soft noise, letting him grope you as he kissed down your neck.
“Clark.”
“Mm…”
Clark was in heaven. Clothing strewn all over the floor and furniture, leaving a breadcrumb trail all the way to your bed. He laid between your legs in only his underwear, staring at you bare and spread out for him as he kissed up your legs.
“Y’so pretty,” he mumbled against your thigh, looking up at you with stars in his eyes through his frames. “Smell so good.”
“Clark, please.”
He smiled, licking his lip as he dragged a finger through your folds, watching the slick gather on his fingertip. He spread you open with two fingers, taking in a deep breath. He leaned in, kissing just over your clit, tongue flicking out to taste you.
“Taste even better.”
“Fuck,” you whined, watching him with hooded eyes.
“Mhm. Thank you,” he muttered, diving in again.
Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping tight as his mouth moved over you. He smiled against you, giddy to finally be tasting you. He’d thought about it so many times, if you’d taste as sweet as you smelled. His hips ground against the bed on their own volition, wanting to find any kind of relief from how he was throbbing in response to finally being able to touch you. He’d been so good, so patient, so slow… and it was finally paying off in a big way. He moaned into your pussy, tongue delving into you, practically fucking you on his mouth. His hands wrapped around your legs, keeping you wide open for him.
Your hips moved against him as much as they could, trying hard to get that extra friction. He ate you out like he was starving for it. You wondered if he’d thought about it as long as you did.
He looked utterly ruined, his cheeks flushed and hair a mess. His glasses were fogged. You reached for them, trying to pull them off, but he quickly grabbed your wrist.
“No,” he shook his head, lips brushing against you.
“Why? Wanna see you.”
“I— I need them.”
“You said you were nearsighted.”
He looked up, trying to see you through the fogged lenses. “W-well, yeah, I just…”
“Please?”
“I really can’t.”
You huffed, horny and needy and wanting to see him.
“Clark.”
“Baby, please. You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand about glasses?”
“They…” He paused. How could he say it without saying it? He needed them because he was secretly a space alien who wore his underwear on the outside to fight crime and rescue puppies? Not exactly a sentence that rolls off the tongue. “It’s… they’re a part of me.”
“They’re not surgically attached.”
“No, but they’re, uh…” he glanced down, your pussy still wet and needy in front of his face. He had half a mind to tell you he was Superman just so he could get back to business.
“Quit it.” You pulled the glasses off before he could notice.
He jolted, shocked and nervous and feeling suddenly like he was in deep. Shoot. He stuttered out your name, his heart pounding out of his chest. You’d seen him. His cover was blown. You’d probably freak out and not want to see him again and not let him make you cum and he’d go home with blue balls and a broken heart.
“I’m… I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you, I know. I just didn’t know how to say it, and we hadn’t talked about if we were like actually a thing until you called me your boyfriend today, and… and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Clark.”
“W-what?”
“I knew you were Superman. Now in the nicest way I can say it, shut the fuck up and get your face back down there before I finish myself off instead.”
He blinked in shock, almost ready to protest before you pushed his head back between your legs. He couldn’t argue with that. He moved faster, wanting even more badly to make you feel good. You knew. You knew who he was and it didn’t matter. He could cum right then and there if he wanted to.
You gasped, back arching high as he gained a new fervor he hadn’t had before. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t feel like he had to hold back all the way now. Whatever it was, you didn’t really care. What you cared about was the way he humped the bed and whined against your skin as you came on his tongue.
You were in a haze, the orgasm knocking your feet out from under you. Clark watched you as you came down, chest heaving. Pretty tits and a pretty face and the cutest pussy, his pretty girl. He sighed dreamily, eyes flitting all over you as he pushed his underwear down his thighs.
You blinked your eyes open, mouth watering at the sight of a fully naked Clark Kent and his monster cock. Cat totally owed you twenty dollars, you knew he’d be massive.
“C’mere,” you mumbled, reaching for his hips, trying to draw yourself up to him.
“What?”
“Want it in my mouth. Please.”
“Baby…”
You leaned closer, hand wrapped around him. “Just for a little. Just let me.”
He let out a soft, shaking breath as you touched him. He memorized the way his cock looked in your hand. He knew he was big, but he looked almost scary in your grip. It was insanely hot. His mouth watered as you licked your lips, trying to prepare yourself to take him. He gasped, hand touching your hair softly as you leaned up to brush his tip against your lips. He shifted a little closer on his knees, trying to make it so that you were a little more comfortable.
“So sweet,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “Sweet girl.”
You smiled up at him, no more of those adorably dorky glasses covering his gorgeous eyes. His lips stayed parted, clearly paying attention to every tiny move you made as you played with him. You let your tongue loll out of your mouth, dragging it against the blunt head of his dick. He moaned outright, hand resting in your hair now, hips jerking as you took him into your mouth.
Your eyes fluttered as you took more of him in, your mouth opening wider to try and accommodate his size. He felt hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. You bobbed your head slowly, taking as much of him as you could. He whined and moaned and made sounds you never expected to hear from him. If only the world knew that Superman was so desperate when he got his cock played with.
He suddenly pulled you off, chest heaving.
“Wait. W-wait. Sorry, honey, I just… I don’t want to cum in your mouth the first time.”
“Hm?”
“Wanna be in you.”
You swallowed, eyes still trained on his length as it jumped in excitement. “Okay. Yeah.”
“Do you have, uh… I didn’t bring any…”
“You want to wear a condom?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “You should always practice safe sex.”
“That the slogan on one of your educational billboards?”
He frowned. You laughed.
“Just want to be responsible.”
You nodded. “Okay. But, for the record, I’m on a contraceptive.”
You almost laughed at the way he clearly struggled with that though. He knew wearing a condom was still the safe option. He also knew that he wanted nothing more than to finish inside of you.
You giggled as he made his decision, pushing you back on the bed and kissing you deeply. He pushed your thighs to your chest and settled on his knees, brushing his thick tip against your pussy, still puffy and needy from the way he’d made you cum with his mouth. He let out a slow breath, rubbing your clit with it a few times before he pressed at your entrance.
“I know it’s… it’s big. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?”
You nodded, watching as his face tightened in pleasure and anticipation. You forced yourself to relax, letting him press into you slowly. You moaned pathetically as he pushed harder, the first few inches hurting as much as they changed your life.
“Y’okay, baby?” He grunted out, slowly starting to rock his hips in that shallow depth.
“Y-yeah. Yes.”
“Good. You’re taking it so good, baby. Look at you.”
You whined, not expecting the praise. You fluttered around his length involuntarily, drawing another sound from him. He pushed in further and further with each slow, careful thrust.
“That’s my girl. So good for me. So pretty.”
He dropped down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his hips with strong hands, pulling you up onto his lap. You gasped, the new angle letting him fill you to the brim. He thrust into you quicker now, arms pushing you off and on as he moved his hips.
“Pretty baby. Perfect for me, fitting all of me in you. Y’feel this?” He grabbed your hand, pressing it to your lower belly to feel the bump of him hitting you deep with every rock of his hips. “Take me so well. Gorgeous girl. You’re doing such a good job.”
“Baby… baby, please. Clark.”
He smiled. Cocky son of a bitch. “I know, honey. You like it, huh?”
You nodded quickly, brain and body turned to jelly as he rammed into you like you were his personal fuck toy. He breathed heavy, a million little sounds leaving him between all of his praises. His face was buried in your neck, moving faster now. You held onto him as tightly as you could, one arm around his shoulders, the other hand tangled in his hair.
He groaned, trying hard not to cum with every move of your body against his. He’d never felt such a perfect fit, it was like you were two puzzle pieces finally clicking. He shuddered against your skin, kissing down your neck and chest until he found one warm, stiff nipple to pull into his mouth. He sucked, alternating between a steady suction and his tongue swirling and flicking over it.
“M’gonna cum,” you gasped out, feeling deliciously overwhelmed.
“Good. Attagirl. You can finish, baby. You can cum,” his voice rumbled against your skin, switching to the other nipple. “Cum for me. You can do it.”
You whined and whimpered, letting him pump into you a few more times before you cried out his name, legs shaking hard. He moaned in time with you, trying like hell to keep moving in order to let you ride it out.
If he thought you smelled good before, the scent of you like this could rouse him from a coma. He could only move for a few more seconds before he was buried himself deep, grinding more than thrusting as he gasped your name, mouth still open against your tit. You felt him fill you, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you.
“Shoot,” he whispered, kissing up your chest until he settled his face against your neck. “Baby. Thank you. Thank you.”
“God damn.”
“Never felt anything like you.”
You smiled drowsily. “Says you.”
He laughed, rubbing your back slowly, fingers tracing the skin. “I’ve been thinking about that a long time.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“I get half hard any time I smell you.”
“What’s up with you and smells?” you asked softly, leaning back to look at him with sleepy eyes.
“Super senses.”
“Ah.”
“Super smell. I pick up a lot of stuff, and you… you smell extra good when you’re— when you’re wet?”
“That is so gross.”
“Can’t help it. You’re delicious,” he said with his lips against your neck again, voice rumbling in his chest. “Can’t believe you knew this whole time.”
“Not hard to guess, Clark. At least not when I both date you and work with you.”
“Mm… shoulda told me you knew.” He kissed your neck, then your jaw, then cheek, and finally lips. He smiled against your lips. “Dropping that and then pushing me between your legs wasn’t fair.”
You smiled back. “Yeah, well. Also wasn’t fair to hide it. We’re both at fault.”
“Maybe.”
You kissed him again, just once. “So… Superman. Super cock. Super eater. You got super stamina, too?”
