Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
yes, of course!!! iām just dealing with a lot right now, so inspiration is kind of slow and rare these days. hoping my break will help with some of that <3
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
CONGRATULATIONS! @anon-188 @theworstwolvie @venigrantrogers >:) i will make graphics for you.
thank you everyone for your interest! i hope you 1) have a great summer and 2) in a somewhat fated manner, find the right pic for your moodboard šāāļø
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
pussydrunk!clark has me in a chokehold š„µ (and iām exactly where i want to be). thank you for so much love on this post!!! iām so happy you guys are enjoying it! š„°š«¶
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: ~350 | warnings: mdni (18+), nsfw themes + language, clothed grinding, heel play, teasing.
a/n: the horny thoughts won. #bigdick!clarksupremacy. okay, back to my break i go. love you all. enjoy <3 photo creds: @maiamore [here] // inspired by this gif
Clark barely had time to sit down before you started.
He dropped onto the couch to pull his boots on, cape shifting behind him, the blue of his suit stretched tight across his thighsāthe red of it even tighter and higher. The briefs did nothing to hide him. He was thick and heavy, outlined so clearly, it made the symbol on his chest look insignificant in comparison.
Your eyes dragged over him once.
Then again.
The second his last boot slipped on, your foot slid across his lap.
A slow drag of your heel.
Clark let out a quiet laugh, breath soft, like he already knew where this was going. āCāmon,ā he murmured, glancing at you. āI really have toāā
Your heel brushed him again.
The contact made him twitch under it, the fabric pulling tighter as his cock hardened almost instantly, the shape of him growing more obvious by the second.
Clarkās hand came down to catch your ankle, gentle, instinctive. He meant to stop you, you could see it in the way his fingers curled, in the way he opened his mouthā
But then your heel pressed in again.
Right over the head.
A low, broken sound slipped out of him before he could stop it, his head tipping back as his hips shifted up into the pressure without thinking.
āānnghāā
There it was.
You smiled, slow, dragging your heel back down the length of him, then up again.
āYou sure you have to go?ā you teased, voice soft as your foot worked him, the motion steady now.
Yes.Ā
No.
Yes.
The response rose in his throat, but Clark didnāt answer.
His head fell back against the couch, a rough groan spilling from his chest as his hips lifted again, chasing the friction.
Every press of your heel pulled another sound out of him, something frayed around the edges. His grip tightened on your ankle, not stopping you, only holding on as you picked up the pace like you had all the time in the world.
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: ~350 | warnings: mdni (18+), nsfw themes + language, clothed grinding, heel play, teasing.
a/n: the horny thoughts won. #bigdick!clarksupremacy. okay, back to my break i go. love you all. enjoy <3 photo creds: @maiamore [here] // inspired by this gif
Clark barely had time to sit down before you started.
He dropped onto the couch to pull his boots on, cape shifting behind him, the blue of his suit stretched tight across his thighsāthe red of it even tighter and higher. The briefs did nothing to hide him. He was thick and heavy, outlined so clearly, it made the symbol on his chest look insignificant in comparison.
Your eyes dragged over him once.
Then again.
The second his last boot slipped on, your foot slid across his lap.
A slow drag of your heel.
Clark let out a quiet laugh, breath soft, like he already knew where this was going. āCāmon,ā he murmured, glancing at you. āI really have toāā
Your heel brushed him again.
The contact made him twitch under it, the fabric pulling tighter as his cock hardened almost instantly, the shape of him growing more obvious by the second.
Clarkās hand came down to catch your ankle, gentle, instinctive. He meant to stop you, you could see it in the way his fingers curled, in the way he opened his mouthā
But then your heel pressed in again.
Right over the head.
A low, broken sound slipped out of him before he could stop it, his head tipping back as his hips shifted up into the pressure without thinking.
āānnghāā
There it was.
You smiled, slow, dragging your heel back down the length of him, then up again.
āYou sure you have to go?ā you teased, voice soft as your foot worked him, the motion steady now.
Yes.Ā
No.
Yes.
The response rose in his throat, but Clark didnāt answer.
His head fell back against the couch, a rough groan spilling from his chest as his hips lifted again, chasing the friction.
Every press of your heel pulled another sound out of him, something frayed around the edges. His grip tightened on your ankle, not stopping you, only holding on as you picked up the pace like you had all the time in the world.
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
hi loves. i just wanted to let you all know that iām going to be taking a break and halting all writing for a little while. my family has experienced multiple losses over these past two months, and right now i need to focus on being present with them while also giving myself the time and space to heal. if i do post anything, it will likely be very random, but for now iām stepping back. in the meantime, youāre always welcome to visit or revisit any of my works that interest you on my blog.
as always, thank you for your patience, kindness, and understanding. i love you all very much, and i hope to see you soon.
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
username: @kentwiththegooddick || picked it as a throwaway, fully convinced no one would ever see it. went viral overnight and now heās stuck with it forever.
specialties:Ā soft dominance, stamina, ruining womenās expectations for real men everywhere.
known for: the glassesā¢, the quiet groans he tries to bite back, the way he says āgood girlā like a prayer.
ā§ watch now:
āshe sent it. i used it.ā ā¢ āstudy breakā ā¢ āheated rivalryā ā¢ āneed to knowā (up next!) ā¢ XXX (coming soon!)
miss an upload?
the full pornstar!clark experience continues at @kentwiththegooddick ā requests, kinks, drabbles, and more.
notes: i do not accept requests for pornstar!clark on this account!
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
rain........the way you write every sensation..... biting my lips rn. the desperation, the sex appeal, the atmosphere. pussy so good, it makes my man shoot lasers. lasers....a stroke of genius. GOD I LOVE IT WHEN FICS HAVE CLARK LOSING ALL CONTROL AND THIS WAS SO GOSH. DARN. PERFECT. sexy. sinful. actually creaming. that's not a typo
summary: tired of the parade of men falling at your feet at lex luthor's wedding and your silence from last night's fight, clark decides to take you on a wild ride in his best friend's ferrari.
wc: 2.6k
tags: set in an au/smallville where clark was bffs with lex before everything went to shit, oneshot, plot what plot, smut 18+ MDNI, rough!clark, things breakā¢ and tearā¢
a/n: part of the KENT - a clark kent furniture-breaking collab with my clark harem <3 go read the other brilliant fics on there! had so much fun writing this. thank you @tw1sters for hosting this and letting me be a part of it! (i did not think i was going to post this on time. hope you enjoy!)
The roar of the Ferrari was doing very little to muffle the frantic beat of your heart. You wanted to stay mad at Clarkā you really didā but it was hard to maintain a cold shoulder when you were coasting along the Metropolis coastline at sixty miles an hour. Close to midnight. Wind in your hair, your favourite tune blasting out of the speakers, all while you boyfriend's hand was splayed heavy and warm on your exposed thigh.
What was a girl to do?
Clark finally cut the engine, parking inside a small alcove, a quiet sanctuary where the dark expanse of the Atlantic crashed against shoreline. It was the spot where Clark had professed his love for you over a year ago.
ā"And why are we here?" you asked, trying to feign anger still.
ā"I don't like it when you're mad at me, sweetheart," he murmured softly. The nickname sounded just slightly different when he was dressed in rich velvet, and sitting in an expensive car.
āYou climbed out, the silk of your dress catching the sea breeze, and perched yourself on the sleek, red bonnet of the car. Clark followed immediately, his coat discarded, sliding onto the metal beside you. When you pointedly shuffled a few inches away, he simply closed the gap, his shoulder bumping yours.
ā"You're so cute when you're mad," he teased, though his eyes held something that felt anything but playful.
ā"Don't belittle me, Clark. You can't just drive me to our spot and expect everything to be okay."
āA cold, salty gust of wind swept over the cliff then, and you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine.Ā
ā"Cāmere," Clark said, his voice soft. Before you could protest, he hooked his hands under your arms and pulled you up and directly into his lap.
āSuddenly, you were encased in him. He was a solid wall of heat, his arms wrapping around your waist to block out the cold. His familiar, clean scent filled your senses. He tucked his chin over your shoulder, pulling you flush against his chest.
ā"Better?" he whispered into your ear.
The contrast was jarring. Barely an hour ago, you were surrounded by the suffocating opulence of Lex Luthorās wedding. Now, there was only the salt spray, the hum of the Ferrari and Clark's warmth.
"We shouldn't have left," you breathed, though you made no move to get away from him. "Lex is going to notice his car is missing. As is his best man.ā
"You're forgetting that Lex has a bride to keep him occupied tonight," Clark murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to hum through your very marrow.Ā
You knew that tone in his voice too well, and your breath hitched in response.Ā
"He wonāt miss the car, and he certainly wonāt miss his best man."
He shifted, his nose brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Besides, I had to get you out of there."
"Why?" you asked, your voice barely a breath as his lips grazed your pulse.
"Too many men looking at you," he whispered, his voice clouding with something darker. He wasn't even trying to hide it. "Too many people trying to find an excuse to get close to you. It was starting to get to me."
You turned your face slightly towards him in the cradle of his arms. "Oh, so this is a rescue? A selfless act for your own peace of mind?"
"Partly," he answered, a small, sheepish smirk playing on his lips. "Is it so wrong to want my girl to myself?"
He pressed a kiss to the slope of your shoulder, his lips barely grazing the skin, yet the heat of it made your eyes flutter shut. It was dizzyingā the freezing chill of the Atlantic breeze a stark contrast against the burning furnace of his body. Looking out at the moonlight dancing over the waves, the anger youād been nursing all evening began to dissolve, feeling petty and distant.
"Is this how you plan to make it up to me?" you asked, breathless, as his hand drifted to your hair, brushing the strands away to expose the nape of your neck.
"Does it feel like a good start?" he countered, as he pressed his lips to the curve of your throat, his pull a little too sharp, a little too hungry. A flash of heat ignited in your chest, radiating downward.
His hand landed softly on your thigh, his palm a searing weight against your skin. He began to drag his hand up and down, fingers inching dangerously close to the high-cut hem of your slit.
"Clark," you warned, voice already low, stripped of its restraint.
He hummed in response, the sound deep and resonant against your skin, his hands slipping past the silk.
"God," he groaned, the sound raw as his fingers met with your slick, aching heat. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark with a sudden realization.Ā
āYou havenāt been wearing anything under this all night?"
His fingers started to move with a languid pressure against your folds, gliding and squeezing for a reaction.Ā
"You sat through dinner like this? Right next to me?"
"Didn't haveā hnnmphā anything to go with the gown," you managed to gasp, hands slipping behind you to fist into his hair.
ā"Love punishing me, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rasp against your ear.Ā
A response died on your tongue as Clark slid his fingers inside you, filling you completely. He knew exactly how much pressure to applyādamn himā wrenching a moan from your throat.
"You looked so beautiful tonight," he cooed, biting your ear, as he continued to scissor his index and middle finger into you, curling it and beckoning your peak closer.
"Look even prettier like this."
He watched youā watched the way your eyelashes fluttered, the way your lips parted for air, the way they cried his nameā drinking in the sight of you coming undone in his arms. The press of his fingers in all the right places sent you hurtling to your peak in no time. The orgasm tore through you, a white-hot wave that left your muscles trembling.
"Hate making my girl upset."
āBefore you could even float down from the high, Clarkās hands were spinning you around. In one fluid motion, your back hit the bonnet of the Ferrari. Clark pressed himself flush against you instantly, his heavy frame pinning you to the car as his mouth devoured the column of your throat. Between his dark gaze and the warm-from-before bonnet, you felt like you were on fire.
āHis fingers hooked into the delicate straps of your dress, dragging them down until the silk gave way, exposing your breasts to the biting air. The sudden chill made your nipples peak and the pulse in your core jump. Clarkās half-lidded eyes darkened to an almost black as he took in the sight before himā your messy hair, your heaving chest and your spread-eagled limbs.
All so open. Waiting. For him.
āDucking his head, Clark latched onto your right breast, mouth warm and wet against your skin. He hitched one of your legs over his hip, his hard length grinding against your core through his thin trousers. The friction was maddeningā a steady rhythm that made you hiss into the air. You were gone, lost in a haze of salt and the searing heat of his skin as he moved to the other breast, his tongue swirling against your pebbled nipple until you were sobbing his name into the dark.
ā"I've been waiting to do this all night," he groaned, his voice vibrating against your skin. You could only whine in response.
Without breaking eye contact, he sank to his knees between your legs, bunching up your dress as he went. His hands slid behind your thighs, dragging you to the very edge of the bonnet, and then his mouth was thereā cupping your leaking cunt with a hunger that made your toes curl in your heels and back arch right into his perfect nose. The pressure of it all; the feeling of his face buried into your pussy made your eyes roll into the back of your head.
āThe first sweep of his tongue was broad and firm, tasting you, before settling into a relentless pace that threatened to send you right back to your peak. He lapped you up, flicking at and sucking the small bundle of nerves; the darkening in his eyes, as he gazed up at you from between your legs, pushing you over the edge once more.
Clark crept back up to you, claiming your mouth in his; the taste of yourself on his lips maddening. He nipped and sucked at your lips until the coppery tang of blood bloomed between you. The sting only fueled the fire; it made your head swim with a delicious lightheadedness while heat crashed through your core.Ā
ā"Fu-uckk. I need you baby," you moaned against his mouth, hands framing his face. Youād been dying to tear through his shirt all evening, despite the anger.
Or rather, because of it.
And so you did, pulling and scratching at the shirt till the buttons popped and his heaving chest loomed into view.
āClark didn't need to be told twice. He pulled back just enough to fumble with his belt, the sharp screech of the zipper echoing in the silence. He looked beautiful under the peeking moonlight in the alcove, the light glinting off of the sheen of sweat and your cum covering his face and chest.Ā
When he finally freed himself, his length was thick and leaking, a heavy heat that made you feel heady with want. Teasing, he let his cock brush against your aching folds, gathering your arousal on him, before pushing in slowly.
āHe let out a low, animalistic growl just as he seated himself deep within you, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. He grasped your hips, his fingers sinking into your skin, bruising, and began to move gently. You lifted yourself just ever so slightly, back arching into him for the proper angle.
āI'm sorry, my darling,ā he whispered, as your walls clenched around him, struggling to accommodate his sheer size.Ā
Was he sorry for splitting you open like this? Or for the fight from last night? You didn't really care at the moment. Couldn't. Because Clark picked up the pace then, every thrust sending a jolt of lightning through your spine.
ā"Clark... please," you begged, your head lolling back against the car. The alcove had long disappeared. The world had narrowed to Clark, you and the erotic sound of slick friction between you as he dragged himself in and out of you.
It was tantalizingā the slow burn of his thick cock against your heated self. You'd been so mad last night, so irritated, that you'd slept on the couch and hated every bit of it, hated not waking up to his arms around you, or his morning wood pressed up against your back.
And now, you couldn't even remember what the fight had been for.
āClark leaned over you, his palms slamming down onto the bonnet on either side of your head to anchor himself as he began to move faster. He moved with unchecked power, jaw tight, his breath coming in hitches against your neck. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, nails digging crescents into the hard muscle, as a desperate whimper was ripped from your throat with every dragging slide of his length. Everytime he buried himself into you to the hilt, the friction against your aching clit sent you into overdrive.Ā
"God, my love," Clark whispered into the crook of your neck. "You're taking me so good."
You were coiled tight soon, gliding along the edge of a crescendo, as Clark filled your senses. You loved when sex with him felt like this; rough, earnest and rawā like nothing else mattered.
Suddenly, there was a whining creak, and a growl from Clark as he shot up into you. You happened to glance down, and immediately felt your face heat up. His release mixed with your own wetness, had formed a thick ring of white around his shaft as he continued slid in and out. He was still hardā you could all but keep yourself from moaning at the sightā and he kept pumping into you, driving his thrusts even deeper and deeper.
You were not in control anymore. Clark was simply using you, moving your hips up and down, drilling his cock into you, dragging you across the metal bonnet of the car like a ragdoll, sure to leave burns all across your back and ass.
Not that you cared. You were far too gone, floating in the limbo of subspace, feeling the sheer force of him, his strength, as he drove you toward a peak so intense, it felt like the earth was shifting beneath you. Moan after moan tumbled out of your lips, as he bought both of you to the very edge again.
āThen, the world seemed to actually sink under you with a violent, bellowing noise.
āJust as the climax rocked through both of you, Clark let out a moan, his body locking as he poured himself completely into you. In that same instant, a loud crrrr-eak of protest screamed through the air. The Ferrari hissed, a cloud of steam erupting, as the radiator shattered and the front completely buckled under you.
āYour eyes flew open, chest heaving, to absolute carnage around you.
Clark had completely flattened the bonnet; the heavy Italian machinery crushed beneath his force. The tires had blown out with the pressure, hissing as they deflated.
And, worst of all, where his hands had been bracing his weight, two deep handprints were pressed clean through the reinforced metal.Ā
Clark stayed over you for a long beat, his forehead resting against yours, panting, the heat still rolling off him in waves. He glanced at the wreckageā a shadow of a smile pulling at his mouth as he looked back at you.
ā"Clark," you breathed, half-laughing and half-horrified, voice wrecked from him. "Lex is going to kill you.ā
"Lexā", Clark kissed you hard, "will be fine," he rasped, his voice still tantalisingly low. He reached down, his thumb tracing the bruised edge of your lip before withdrawing. The car groaned again, settling deeper into the sand as his weight shifted.Ā
He stepped out of the wreckage and reached for you, his hands wrapping around your waist to lift you effortlessly from the ruined metal. Instead of setting you on the ground, he held you against his chest, your heels dangling, keeping you encased in his arms.
"How the hell are you going to explain this to him?" you asked, feeling completely spent suddenly.
"Iāll tell him I hit a patch of ice," he said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered. He nuzzled against your side, pressing another chaste kiss to your bruised lip.
"In Metropolis? In the middle of spring?"
āIāll crush it more, make it unrecognizable. Tell him the car totaled while we were getting gas.ā
You shook your head at him, a small, sluggish smile playing on your lips. He set you down then, his fingers lingering on your hips as he looked down into your eyes.
His were still dark, and twinkling.
Oh, no. Oh, yes.
"Besides," he added with a wicked drawl that made your knees weak all over again. "By the time he sees the car, weāll be back at the farm, and youāll be in my bed.ā
You quirked an eyebrow at him. āIn your bed, huh?ā
āIāve got a lot more apologising to do, miss.ā
ASH!!! first of all, i never want to hear you say anything negative about your writing ever again. THIS WAS SO HOT AND SO YUMMY!!! š„µš
ALSO!!!
The first sweep of his tongue was broad and firm, tasting you, before settling into a relentless pace that threatened to send you right back to your peak. He lapped you up, flicking at and sucking the small bundle of nerves; the darkening in his eyes, as he gazed up at you from between your legs, pushing you over the edge once more.
"I've got a lot more apologising to do, miss."
iām as bricked up as iāll ever be. thank you for writing this piece of art and for letting my eyes feast upon it. i can die happily now š„¹š¤
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @sparklingsin ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @heartharrington ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT??????????? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDING ME
I have so many thoughts and not a single one is broadcastable holy shit my friend this was excellent, this was a masterclass in writing pussy-drunkness. This was panty wetting, spotted vision inducing, dizzy spell causing. I am wet, I feel spoiled, I am going to be thinking about this everytime I look at a bathtub and cursing the sky because I canāt recreate it.
pairing: clark kent x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 3.1k | KENT <- collab m.list (be sure to check out the other lovely fics & stay tuned for more!!!)
summary: clark canāt leave you aloneāeven when he really, really should. the pressure buildsā¦ and something has to give.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), clark cusses 2.5 times, unprotected sex (p in v), pussy drunk!clark, rough sex, loss of control, furniture breaking, overstimulation, nsfw themes + language, reader called ābabyā
a/n: clark breaks the bathtub while fucking you. thatās it. thatās the fic. A BIG THANK YOU to @tw1sters for including me in this collab!!! i had so much fun writing this and canāt wait to read everyone elseās!! hope you guys enjoy! <3 //graphics: @heartharrington ā thank you ash for the beautiful header below. still canāt get over how talented you are!! š¤š¤
Clark was supposed to be leaving for work.
Well, that had been the plan, at least. He was mostly dressed for it too, shirt crisp, tie half-adjusted, sleeves buttoned, everything in place except the last few steps that would actually get him out the door.Ā
His shoes waited by the couch. His jacket was draped neatly over the dining room chair. Just a few final adjustments and heād be gone.
It should have been simple. Really, it should have. But when it came to you, simple had never been something he could count on.
You were minding your own business. Relaxing. Existing. Apparently, that alone was enough to ruin whatever focus he had left.
Clark stood at the sink, adjusting his tie in the mirror, fingers working at the knot with practiced precision. He fixed it once, then again, and again, like something about it still wasnāt sitting right, even though it had been perfect the first time.
Behind him, the tub sat visible in the reflection, and you were there, sunk low in the water, completely at ease. Steam filled the room in slow curls, softening the edges of everything, including you.
Clarkās eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror, quick at first, then slower. Then longer. And longer. Long enough that heād forget what he was doing entirely before dragging his gaze back up to his own reflection like that might somehow fix it.
He swallowed hard and forced his attention back to his tie.
Focus.
Clark straightened, running a hand through his hair before adjusting his glasses, eyes fixed on his reflection to anchor him there, to keep him moving, to keep him fromā
His gaze slipped again.
Slower this time. Heavier in a way where he couldnāt even pretend it was accidental.
The water moved when you shifted your legs, the surface breaking just enough to catch and follow, offering brief, shifting glimpses before settling again. Droplets clung to your shoulders and throat, slipping slowly over your skin each time you moved, tracing small paths he couldnāt stop noticing. The whole room felt warm with it, thick with quiet and water and the faint scent of whatever youād poured into the tub.
You werenāt even doing anything, not really, which only made it worse. Clark couldnāt seem to look anywhere else, or think of anything else for that matter.
That didnāt stop him from trying, though.
And God, did he try.Ā
Clark let out a slow, steady breath, deeper than it needed to be, like it might push whatever this was back down where it belonged.
āAlright, baby,ā he said, voice quieter than usual. āI have to go.ā
He turned and stepped closer as he said it, already leaning down before the sentence had fully settled between you. It was supposed to be quick. Normal. Just one last soft kiss before work.
Clarkās hand braced on the edge of the tub as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar, something that shouldāve ended there but didnāt. You were warm, your mouth slightly parted, soft where you gave under him without resistance.
He lingered a second too long, catching the faint drag of your lower lip before pulling back just barely, his breath brushing yours.
His gaze dropped to your mouth againāand stayed there.
Something tightened in his chest, heavier now, pushing up from where heād tried to bury it.Ā
He kissed you again.Ā
Longer this time.Ā
And then again, deeper, his mouth pressing into yours with intent, the kiss opening, getting away from him, losing whatever restraint had been left in it. His hand on the tub clenched tighter, grounding himself in the strain while the other came up to your face, thumb pressing along your jaw as he pulled you into him.
He should have stopped. He knew that. Knew that this was the last thing he should be doing right now.
The thought flickered, thin and useless, drowned out by the way you felt, by the way your lips moved with his, by the immediate reaction in his body. Heat hit him low and sharp, his cock caught tight beneath his slacks, the pressure there before he could even pretend otherwise.
Still, he didnāt pull away.
His mouth stayed on yours, each kiss deepening with every second he didnāt stop. His breathing shifted, uneven, heavier now, pulling through his nose in quiet bursts that brushed hot against your skin. Every inhale came tighter than the last, tension winding through his chest instead of easing down.
You laughed softly against his mouth, a quiet, breathy sound that brushed his lips when you spoke. āYouāre gonna get all wet,ā you murmured, the words light, amused, as if this was still something easy. Still playful.
His response came in the way his mouth pressed harder to yours, more insistent, the kiss turning urgent without pause. His hand flexed against the edge of the tub again, grip tightening, fingers pressing into the porcelain for resistance, for something solid to hold while everything else slipped further out of his control.
A faint sound gave under his palm.
Small. Thin. Barely there.
A hairline crack split through the porcelain, too quiet for anyone but him to hear, but he caught it all the same. That faint give beneath his hand, the smallest surrender under pressure, something yielding when it shouldnāt have.
It echoed too closely. Too much like the way his restraint had been going, not all at once, but splitting, fracturing, giving in pieces he wasnāt getting back.
He didnāt notice himself leaning closer at first. It just happened gradually, his weight shifting forward, his body following where his mouth already was, where his focus had narrowed completely.Ā
The edge of the tub pressed into his body, then more and more. He kept going. Closer. Further. Until there wasnāt really a line left to cross.
His weight tipped past the edge before either of you could slow it, one knee dropping into the water, then the other, his mouth still fixed to yours. The bath surged around him, spilling hard over the sides as his clothes soaked through all at once. His shirt and pants stuck to him in seconds, ruined and heavy, water streaming from the fabric and pooling across the floor.
It didnāt matter. None of it did. The mess, the sound, the fact that he had been halfway out the door minutes ago. All of it dropped away under one singular focus.
You.
His hands were already on you, firm, urgent, pulling you up and into him with a kind of need that made it clear he was past the point of caring how it looked. Water sloshed violently with the movement, spilling over again, your body shifting against his as he maneuvered you onto his lap.
It wasnāt neat or careful. It was messy, rushed, a little clumsy in the way urgency always was with him when he got like this. Clark moved fast, driven by how badly he needed you there, by how little patience he had left to get you there any other way.
You startled, breath catching sharply, the surprise obvious in the way your hands braced against him, the way your body reacted to the suddenness of it. He didnāt ease up, didnāt even think about slowing down. His mouth found yours again, rougher, open, all urgency now. He sank lower into the tub beneath you, water shifting hard around his body, soaking him through completely, but it didnāt register. Not with you on him.
His hands moved like he couldnāt pick a place, like he needed all of you at once. One slid up your back, broad and hot, pressing you down into him, fingers spreading between your shoulder blades before sweeping lower. The other traced down your side, slow for half a second before taking hold of your hip, then shifting again.
Higher.
His hand closed over your breast, fingers curling around the weight of it as he squeezed. His thumb moved slowly over your nipple, pressing, rolling, pulling a breathy reaction from you. The sound you made hit his mouth, and he swallowed it instantly, tongue pushing in to taste it, to take more of you anywhere he could.
His hips worked beneath you with no real attempt to hide it anymore, rolling up against you with purpose. His cock pressed against you through the soaked fabric of his slacks, the friction pulling a low, strained sound from him as it jumped against you, needy and insistent. His hands settled harder at your hips, keeping you right where he needed you.
Steam hung thick around you both, heat wrapping tight, softening everything around the edges until even his glasses began to fog.
It registered for half a secondā
That was all it got.
Clarkās hand shot up, ripping the glasses from his face before they could fog over completely. He tossed them aside without looking, the frames skidding across the bathroom tile with a sharp crack that failed to pull his attention.
His mouth crashed into yours again, deeper, sloppier, breath hot and wrecked as his hands went right back to you, gripping, sliding, squeezing like any space between his hands and your body was too much.
Clark wasted no time. One hand dropped from you just long enough to fumble at his belt, fingers clumsy with urgency as he yanked it loose. The buckle knocked dully against itself before he shoved his pants down, fabric resisting under the water, soaked and clinging as he forced it out of the way beneath you. The movement jostled you both, water splashing up and over the edge again,Ā but he didnāt pause, didnāt dare break the rhythm of his mouth against yours.
He didnāt give you the usual slow slide, didnāt ease you into it like he normally would. The second he freed himself, he was already pulling you closer, lining himself up more by need than patience, his breath catching the moment he found you before pushing in all at once.Ā
The stretch hit immediately, sudden and full, pulling a cry from you as your body clenched around him. Clark groaned at the feel of it, low and broken, his head dipping forward like the sensation had knocked the rest of him loose.
āShiāā
The word broke apart in his throat, cut off into something rougher.
There was no time to adjust, no chance for your body to catch up before his hands found your hips and started moving you again. His hands locked onto you, fingers sinking in as he guided you into motion, pulling you down onto him, lifting you back up, setting a pace that hit hard and fast right from the start.
Water sloshed violently with every movement, spilling over the edge in steady waves, the sound of it mixing with breath and skin and the wet slide of your bodies coming together again and again.
It didnāt take long before you caught it, matched itā
Then took it.
Your hands twisted into his soaked button-up, fingers curling tight in the fabric as you shifted your weight and rode him properly, not just following anymore. You bounced on him, harder now, faster, the angle changing as you ground down between each lift, dragging him deeper every time you came back down. The friction got to him immediately.
A ragged sound slipped out of him, as you took over, his hands braced at your hips while your pace started pulling him apart. Each movement worked more out of him, left him less steady, less able to hide how badly you had him.
You feltĀ too good.
Too tight, too warm, too perfect around him, every bounce pulling another rough sound from him, every grind making his grip tighten.
He was already gone.Ā
Fucked out in a way that stripped him down to instinct, to reaction, to nothing but the feel of you working him over. He could feel it bleeding into everything else too, that lack of control, the way heat built behind his eyes each time you sank down, the way his strength kept threatening to slip into his hands where they held you. Even the air leaving him came out wrong now, too hot, too wrecked.
He tried to keep it all in check, tried to rein it in before it got away from him.
Clarkās jaw tightened, breath snagging as his hands clung to you with a care the rest of him had no room for. Everything in him wanted to push harder, take more, fuck up into you with all the strength he kept buried under skin and restraint. He held it backĀ by inches, barely, muscles locked beneath you while his touch stayed careful through sheer force alone.Ā
It worked.
Mostly.
Until you leaned forward.
Your arms slid around him, pulling him close, pressing your body flush against his as his breath broke hard in his chest. The sound of his name left you in a low, wrecked moan, dragged straight out of you with the roll of your hips, each one locking tighter around him.
āBabyāā he tried, the word breaking halfway through, strained, like the start of a warning he already knew wouldnāt survive the next second.
You didnāt slow down, didnāt give him the space to finish it, and he didnāt fight for it either. The warning lost shape in the way you kept moving, in the fact that he didnāt want you to stop at all.Ā
Your hips drove down again and again, relentless, the pressure building with every movement, taking him deeper each time, too much and not enough all at once. It stacked on him fast, sensation piling as his hands dug into your waist.
And then your hips sank lower.Ā
One deep, filthy grind.
It pressed him all the way in and held him there, your weight settling fully, the drag of it hitting something sharp and exact that tore straight through whatever control he had left.
Clarkās entire body seized before a loud, guttural groan ripped out of him as he came hard, hips jerking up into you on instinct.Ā
His hand slammed down with it, the force splintering through the side of the tub hard enough to break a chunk loose. Porcelain gave way beneath his palm, the side splitting open as water flooded through the gap and rushed across the floor.
At the same time, his eyes flashed.
Just for a split second.
A flare of heat vision shot wide, too sudden for him to catch, striking the metal faucet behind you with enough force to shatter it clean. The pipe split with a harsh snap, water bursting out hot and pressurized, hissing into the room and adding to the chaos.
āShitāā
His eyes squeezed shut instantly, jaw clenching hard as he tried to rein it back in, like he could force himself under control if he just held tight enough. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, locking you against him as another rough groan tore out of his chest, muffled against your skin.
Water poured around you now, from the split-open side of the tub, from the broken pipe, soaking everything, flooding the tile, but he didnāt stop.
He couldnāt.
Your reaction caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, a choked inhale, a sound that never fully formed as the pace hit too fast, too hard. Your body tried to respond, hands tightening on him, fingers gripping into soaked fabric, but every attempt got swallowed by the next thrust, the next snap of his hips that stole whatever you were about to say.
The break in the tub shifted everything, the side giving way enough to let his legs spread wider beneath you, changing the angle completely. He felt it and used it without hesitation, hips bucking up into you even as he was still coming.
He kept you pressed to him, hands locked at your hips as he fucked up into you through the broken rush of water, through the soaked mess around you, through the wreckage of everything heād already let go too far.
āIām sorryāā he gritted out, the words catching as his hipsĀ snappedĀ again. āIāll fix itāI promiseājustāā His hands pressed harder into your hips, breath shuddering hot between you.Ā
That was the only thing left in his head.
Need.
His paceĀ changed, not easing, only deepening, his body rising to meet yours as he dragged you down against him in heavy rolls that kept him buried inside you while he chased the feeling again and again. His hands moved with it, guiding the motion, making you feel every inch of him as he ground up hard, breath breaking with each grind.
Clark forced his eyes open, pulling himself back into it, into the moment, into you. His brows pulled tight immediately, mouth parting on a ragged breath as his gaze dropped between you, locking onto where your bodies met. He watched the way you took him, the way he disappeared inside you with every movement, and the sight tore another wrecked sound from his chest.
The reaction chased up his spine just as fast, too much, too immediate, and his head tipped back on instinct, eyes squeezing shut again before it could go any further. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he tried to contain it, tried to fight that heat building fast and dangerous behind his eyes again. It came back stronger, hotter, threatening to spill if he lost even a fraction more control.
But that didnāt stop him.Ā
āKeepāā his voice faltered, breath catching, ākeep goingādonātāā
You could see how badly he was fighting it. It was there in the hard set of his jaw, in the faint tremor running through his hands, in the way his breathing refused to settle even after everything. The pressure hadnāt eased. If anything, it had gotten worse.
Your mouth parted, instinct kicking in, ready to ask if he was sureābut he caught it.
Maybe it was the way your hips stilled for half a second. Maybe it was the breath you pulled in, that slight pause before you spoke. Whatever it was, he felt it instantly, his hands locking at your hips hard enough to keep you there.
āDonātāfuckādonāt stop,ā he groaned.
His hips ground up as he pulled you down harder, the motion breaking his words into something rougher, something he barely seemed to realize had left him.
The edge of it cracked just as fast as it came.
His voice dropped in sync with your hips, the tone softer but no less strainedā
if you want to be tagged in my future posts, comment or message me! iām happy to do it! :) just let me know if you wantĀ all worksĀ or just forĀ specific charactersĀ <3
ā¢ links:Ā masterlistĀ |Ā wattpad | tip jar š« (support my writing!)
tips are never required, but always appreciated. thank you for being here!
If I could move, I'd be sitting in my tub, sipping wine, and eating this UP! š Clark fucks me and any chance to get the deposit back, God what an experience!! I love the way you get readers in Clark's headspace and his carnal hunger! This was so filthy hot, I'd need a bath after my bath.
this is sending me jae šš i didnāt even think about the depositābut yeah, that shit is absolutely fucked lmao. iām so happy you enjoyed it!!! šš«¶
