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little featherlight, blink if you miss it kind of kisses where your lips brush my own and you make my heart light up with how tender and gentle and preciously you treat me. so much love for how i look and taste and even smell, pressing chaste little kisses to my pussy and having your cock harden gregariously into the mattress beneath you, almost fucking your jeans with anticipation
and then chaste kisses turn to a makeout session with my pussy, opening your lips and slathering your tongue generously across my clit - dragging slick up from my hole and mixing it with your spit as you slurp between my legs, spitting and kissing and wrapping your lips and sucking at my clit and making me gasp and cry with the shock of feeling pulses from my lower abdomen through my whole body
you have hold me down by pelvis as i cum, writhing while my eyes roll to the back of my head and cries rip from my throat, my hole visibly tightening and shaking while my body rips and renews itself through the bliss and euphoria of your mouth worshipping my pussy
...until i can feel that pleasure turn into something sharper and more painful
your mouth is unrelenting, drawing a whine from my mouth as i feel myself getting desperate to have you off
yet your hands remain glued to my pelvis, and head cemented to my pussy, somehow your lips pressing harder and still lapping as though your job wasn't yet fulfilled
my heartrate was spiking, fear and passion mixing with the desperation and overstimulation in a way that was making my hands shake
and the last thing i expected at that point was to feel a direct pressure applied to my clit, buzzing and pinpointing the sensitive bundle in a way that wrangled a screamed moan from my lips, my hips tremoring and knees weakening as your tongue shifted to my tight backdoor - trailing all the slick and spit from one hole to the next one while my vibrator tortured my clit
the second orgasm was harder.
like the feeling of being kissed and stabbed simultaneously, filled with a kind of rush and fulfilment, battled by the feeling of pain that ripped through my every muscle in my body
the vibrator remained on my clit. your other hand fell to my asshole, thumb plugging it and toying around to give the most sinful pleasure cutting through the pain
screams and cries became music to your ears rather than the pleas they were
and only were you done when you felt my body slacken, the fight within me dying as the only sign of life became the heartbeat my pussy uttered around your digits, overstimulated and aching and yet still meeting your demands and cumming at your command
and only then, once passed out and defenseless, did you relent.
slinging my body over your shoulder like a toy, walking your "date-night that got lucky" out of her own apartment block naked and into the back of your car to return to yours for what was to become my new life as your personal fucktoy
i want to use you purely for entertainment. tied to a chair as i sit comfortably across from you and control the vibrator attached to your thigh. i don't care how much you cry and beg, you're gonna be used like the good toy you were born to be and you're gonna cum again and again until you either pass out or i decide that you've had enough.
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can’t stop thinking about tops/doms who pleasure you as a way assert their power over you. you’re their toy, and your body is theirs to play with.
fucking you until you’re completely out of it. eating you out until you’re crying, and not stopping when you do. making your body shake and shudder uncontrollably. fingering you until you’re moaning and gasping and whining, making noises you didn’t think you could make.
they’re in complete control of you. they’re using you. not just for their pleasure, but for their amusement.
“aww you poor thing. i know, i know it hurts. we’re having so much fun, you don’t want to stop now, do you? you’re almost there, just relax and keep making those pretty sounds. give me one more, darling. that’s it. cum for me.”
A dom eating out his sub, their slicked up and abused cunt giving little to no resistance against his prodding tongue as he fucks it in and out of them. His hands keep their thighs apart even as they try to press them together.
"C'mon, baby. Just one more time for me."
It's not posed as a question because it isn't one. He's going to make them cum again. And again. And again.
And even though they protest weakly, they let him keep going, drunk on the line between pain and pleasure as he pushes them past oversensitivity once more….!
you don’t even realize it anymore, do you ? how wired your body is to me. how trained it’s become
the morning starts with fingers between your thighs before your eyes even open, my voice against your neck, low and warm, telling you to be good and stay still. you try, you always do. but your hips are already twitching, your need already blooming, and i haven’t even said “cum” yet
i kiss your cheek, make you coffee, slide my hand down the front of your shorts when you pass me the mug. no warning. no teasing. just straight to the heat, just to feel how wet you still are. and of course you whimper, of course your knees wobble, of course you’re already clenching. one orgasm before breakfast. two, if i feel generous. or cruel
i press you up against the wall as you brush your teeth, hand on your throat, whispering filth between each spit and rinse. you look at me with suds on your lips and pupils blown wide, like some dumb little doll who forgot what day it is. that’s okay. you won’t need to know
by midday, you’re flushed. distracted. soaked. the toy inside you is still going, pulsing slow and steady, not enough to let you fall apart yet just enough to remind you who you belong to. you fidget through every call, every errand, every polite smile you force as if you’re not seconds away from dripping down your thighs
later, i pull you into my lap during a movie, spread your legs without a word, and slide two fingers in like i own the right. because i do. you stifle a moan, press your pretty face into my shoulder. sweet thing. no one told you being good meant being ruined hourly
and when night falls ? you know what’s coming. the real cruelty. the deep, shaking overstimulation. the “no darling doll, we're not done yet,” kind. the “hold still while i make you cum again” kind. the trembling legs, the soaked sheets, the way your voice breaks when you try to beg but all that comes out is a gasp and a cry
you were mine all day. soft and used and glowing. and tomorrow ?
Wanna have time out in this chair? Have your wrists bound behind your back? Gagged? Ankles cuffed to the legs? Left to sit there, for hours? Until you are broken, sobbing and begging through the gag that I turn it off. Pleading with your bloodshot eyes for me to end it?
Then be a good girl. Do as Daddy says. Behave. Obey. I’ll strap you in and let you have so much pleasure that you start to hate it and wish it would end.
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“You’re far too dumb to be making your own decisions right now aren’t you?”
“Wait.. no… It’s because you’ve got… th… you w got this vi… vibra…pressed on my clit”
“Awww well I’ll turn it off, but only when you’re a good girl and you stop cumming all the time. Until then, I think it’s better I make all the decisions. See you in a few hours!”
Frantic girly moaning
“Wait…no… I… I can do it… I won’t cum… I promise!”
“It’s just you’ve… you’ve just got it tied so tight against my clit… if you could just… move it off for 30 seconds… I wouldn’t cum”
“I just… need… to move… ohhhhh god…. Ohhhh godddd….ohhhhhh….ohhhhhhhhh”
Whimpers
“That didn’t happen, I was good, I… ohhhh…. Please… I promise I was…. Hello? Are you there? Hello”
“It’s ok it won’t happen this time, I’ll be good… you can come back… see… see… I can be good… omg my clit… n… nooo…. oh goddd… ohhhhhhh…
She keeps trying for hours and hours on end until she gives in from exhaustion and her pussy takes full control
When the boys get back all they find is a quivering, soaking mess unable to speak and just making faint moans. They switch off the vibrator and take her back to the dorm room where she’s locked into bed. They’ll try again tomorrow to see if she’s learnt how to be a good girl yet…
ᝰ.ᐟ studying anatomy is hard, but lucky you, your boyfriend satoru is jacked
the textbook was a weapon, and it was currently winning.
you stared blankly at a diagram of a human torso, the labels blurring into a dizzying soup of latin words. your upper body anatomy quiz was tomorrow morning, and true to form, you were cramming the night before. you hadn't even been at it for an hour, but your brain was already completely fried.
"okay, wait," you muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. "does the bicep sit higher than the tricep? or is the tricep on top? no that's… wait, where is the brachialis again?"
it was hopeless. you'd look at a muscle, repeat its name five times, look away, and immediately erase it from your memory. with a dramatic groan, you collapsed backward onto your bed, letting the heavy textbook rest precariously on your stomach. you were officially doomed.
the mattress dipped.
a flash of white hair entered your peripheral vision as satoru crawled onto the bed, shifting smoothly until he was hovering over you like a giant, ridiculously attractive cat.
"look at you, absolutely suffering," satoru teased, a sharp, playful grin tugging at his lips. "i can practically hear your brain short-circuiting from over here, babe."
you opened your eyes to glare at him, but the retort died in your throat. because, of course, satoru had decided to wear that shirt tonight. it was a long-sleeved, black compression top that clung to every single line of his frame, highlighting a ridiculously broad chest and sculpted shoulders.
he was just a criminally handsome guy who clearly spent way too much time at the gym. it was completely unfair how he could look that good just from lifting weights while you were drowning in textbooks.
"go away," you wheezed, weakly lifting a hand to push at his face. "you’re a distraction. a highly illegal distraction."
"me? a distraction?" satoru gasped in mock offense. he shifted his weight, dropping down to lie on his stomach next to you. he propped his chin up with his hands, a movement that caused the fabric of his shirt to tauten over the heavy definition of his upper back and shoulders.
your eyes tracked the movement. you blinked once. twice.
wait.
you looked from the textbook diagram of the deltoids and pectorals, then right back to satoru’s very real, very defined body. a sudden, brilliant spark of desperation ignited in your fried brain.
"toru," you said, your tone suddenly dead serious. "take your shirt off."
satoru froze, his smirk faltering into a look of genuine, rare bewilderment. his beautiful blue eyes blinked in confusion. "wh—now? i mean, i love the enthusiasm, babe, but i thought you were failing a class?"
"just do it. for science. for my gpa."
muttering something about how you were terrifying when stressed, satoru crossed his arms and pulled the compression shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. he sat cross-legged on the bed, presenting a perfect, shirtless canvas of lean muscle.
"alright, i'm naked—well, half-naked. what's the plan, professor?"
you didn’t answer. instead, you lunged off the bed, grabbed a neon green washable expo marker from your desk, and crawled back over to him with a manic look in your eye.
satoru eyed the marker warily. "uh, what is that for?"
"hold still," you commanded, uncapping the marker with your teeth.
you leaned in close, your left hand resting gently on his shoulder for balance while your right hand brought the marker to his skin. satoru tensed for a fraction of a second at the cool, damp touch of the felt tip, but quickly relaxed, watching you with an amused, fond expression as you began to draw.
"okay," you murmured, tracing a neat box right over his chest. "these are the pectoralis major. big chest muscles. easy." you wrote pec major in bold green letters right across his right pectoral.
"wow, using my body as a cheat sheet. i feel objectified. do it more," satoru chuckled, his chest vibrating under your hand.
"shh! i'm concentrating," you chided, moving your marker up to his shoulder. you traced the rounded muscle cap. "deltoid. anterior, lateral, posterior. it's like a shoulder pad." you carefully scribbled deltoid on his shoulder, giving it a little pat.
"and what about these?" satoru asked, flexing his arm slightly, a proud grin on his face.
you stared at his arm, the marker hovering. "ah! the age-old question. bicep is on the front, tricep is on the back. bicep pulls the arm in, tricep extends it." to cement it in your memory, you drew a giant arrow on his inner arm pointing up labeled bicep, and a matching one on the back labeled tricep.
for the next thirty minutes, satoru’s bedroom turned into a live-action, neon-green anatomy lab. you moved around him like a mad scientist, labeling his serratus anterior (the "rib muscles," as you initially called them), his trapezius, and even trying to map out his abs, though you kept getting distracted because his stomach kept twitching from being tickled by the marker.
"stop laughing, toru, i'm trying to find your external obliques!"
"i can't help it! your hands are cold and that marker is tickling the life out of me!" he gasped, squirming away from the green tip.
finally, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. satoru was covered from the waist up in bright green boxes, arrows, and messy anatomical terms. he looked absolutely ridiculous, completely contrasting his runway-model face.
satoru looked down at himself, then glanced in the vanity mirror across the room. he burst out laughing. "i look like a radioactive paint-by-numbers project."
"you look like an a-plus," you corrected proudly, capping the marker. "i actually remember them now. visual learning is a powerful tool."
satoru smiled, leaning forward and wrapping his green-labeled arms around your waist to pull you into his lap. "glad i could be of service to your education. but you know this stuff washes off, right? what are you going to do during the actual quiz tomorrow when you can't look at my chest?"
you hummed, resting your hands against his (now labeled) pectorals. "i'll just close my eyes and visualize my very hot, very heavily graffitied boyfriend."
"perfect," satoru beamed, kissing your forehead. "but if you get a hundred, you owe me a real date. one where you don't use me as school supplies."
18+ | tw - somno (implied consent)
━ Men who love indulging in their sleeping girlfriend. ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
He slips into the bedroom late at night, eyes immediately drawn to you lying on your stomach, fast asleep in nothing but his oversized t-shirt. The hem has ridden up, exposing your bare ass and the soft, glistening lips of your pussy. Just the sight of you like this — warm, relaxed, and completely vulnerable — makes him throb.
He quietly undresses and climbs onto the bed. He spreads your legs gently and leans down, dragging his tongue slowly through your folds. You’re already wet. He groans quietly against your pussy, licking deeper, tasting you while you stay lost in sleep.
When he’s nice and hard, he kneels behind you, lines himself up, and slowly pushes inside. Your pussy stretches around him beautifully, hot and silky even while you’re sleeping. You let out a soft, unconscious moan as he bottoms out, clenching around him.
“Fuck, baby… so greedy even when you’re sleeping,” he whispers filthily, starting to thrust slowly. He fucks you with long, lazy strokes, savoring how wet and warm you feel wrapped around him.
Your body reacts on instinct — pussy fluttering and dripping around him with every thrust. He leans over you, pressing his chest to your back as he starts fucking you a little harder, the wet sounds of his entire ltngth sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filling the quiet room.
He reaches around to rub your clit in slow circles while he pounds into you. You whimper and push back against him in your sleep, making him groan. “That’s my good girl,” he rasps, hips snapping faster. “Taking me so well even when you’re out cold.”
When he finally gets close, he buries himself deep and cums hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot ropes of cum. He stays inside you for a while, gently grinding through the aftershocks, pushing his load deeper.
Only then does he carefully pull out, clean you up, and cuddle up behind you, kissing your shoulder softly. You always sleep better after he fills you up.
(true form!sukuna x chubby!reader) | fluff/ crack / suggestive
you were convinced sukuna was somehow made for cuddling.
four large arms wrapped around you, holding you close — broad chest pressed against your back, large body radiating constant heat.
you had your head resting on his bicep, the size of it basically acting as a slightly smaller, more comfortable version of a pillow. sukuna had another arm draped around your waist, hand splayed across your soft tummy, the other two arms in similar positions. he was practically squeezing you in his sleep.
when you stir during the night, he tightens his hold, securing you against him further so you can’t leave. not even for a second.
you were both warm and drunk with sleep, the soft morning sun beginning to beam through the windows.
you stir first.
a lazy sigh, a soft shift of your hips, body dying to stretch its muscles. you peek behind you, catching sight of sukuna’s sleeping form, four eyes glued shut — pink hair messy in the best way.
you wriggle a little, cautious you don’t wake the grumpy cute beast behind you. the moment you move more than an inch, one of sukuna’s eyes snap open, watching you try to slide out from beneath his arms.
"no." he doesn’t say much — he doesn’t need to. sukuna could keep you curled up next to him for eternity if he wanted. you were helpless against him, especially when he was needy like this.
he tightens his arms further, pulling you back against his chest with a lazy grumble. your soft curves only made sukuna want to keep you in bed with him longer — your body was so supple, so cozy.
"kuna, i need to use the bathr-"
"quiet."
you sigh quietly, desperate to stretch your legs and empty your bladder, or even just have a second to breathe without being crushed by the grumpy oversized cat behind you.
"i can’t hold it much longer-" you warn, squirming sukuna’s hold again, pinching his arm in protest. he doesn’t move, not even a millimetre, your protests falling on deaf ears. "kunaaaa!" you whine.
"i do not care, woman. disturb my slumber again and i will eat you," he mumbles, throwing empty threats around like he actually means them. he lets out a sound that could only be described as half whine, half growl, setting back in.
you giggle lightheartedly, wiggling your ass against him in a playful manner. you may have to resort to other techniques to get the man to release you from his iron grip. "…oh yeah?"
sukuna cracks an eye open again, one hand finding your hip, halting your movements. "you have woken me up. do not wake them also," he rasps, trying to ignore the two growing bulges under the sheets.
"let me use the bathroom and i’ll say good morning to you properly," you grin, grinding your full ass against his crotch. he hums lowly, clearly satisfied with this idea, yet slightly irritated he’d have to spend a few minutes without you curled up against him.
slowly, he relaxes his grip, letting you slither away towards the bathroom. "be quick, woman."
he already missed you.
a/n; i wrote this after a few cocktails so… here’s this i guess… sorry it’s so short ugh (also this isn’t part of chubby concubine series i hope i made that clear idk LOL)
loveee the thought of reader bringing clark into the bathroom with her when they’re in public like whenever there’s an individual bathroom reader always makes clark go in with her (and it’d be before she even knows ab his kink she’s just super clingy and wants clark with her 24/7 🤭) like just her talking to clark while she’s peeing and clark is trying so hard not to cum
(explicit 18+, piss and shame sequel, part one in my masterlist) some more filthy golden shower clark ideas 🥛
. . .
hhhhh oh my god I can see it happening. clark attempts acting coy and puts up that shy front of his, tries coming up with half assed excuses and timid reminders of how people might see them coming out together when truthfully he doesn’t fucking care. he loves getting this front row seat to freely watch his girl unknowingly play out his little fetish right in front of him
one time she ignores his awkward stuttering and fumbling, locks the door behind them, and shushes his low (and fake) protests and strips her jeans and her panties until they’re at her feet in one swoop. when she plops down and began casually relieving herself and starting a story he couldn’t hear a single thing coming out of her mouth anymore
he got stuck. lured in by the exhausting force putting him in the same trance he always gets holed up in. cock stirring in some overly constricting denim, feeling how the bulge forms and moves around his pants. easily pointed up to his belly button now while she idly swings her feet back and forth still relieving her bladder telling him about something that happened at work that day
he’s nodding and letting out little murmured mmhmm’s trying so hard to sound sincere because he always normally is. he wants nothing more than to hear about her day. but with her pretty pussy trickling that fluid and letting out everything she’d been patiently holding in - how her stream just kept going and going and going, getting it so wet there had to be splash back that he thinks he could actually nab a taste of if he got down on his knees. his tip is so sensitive and ready to burst while he starts subtly trying to apply pressure on it, trying to both satiate his need or that maybe it could help his length soften and deflate
but it doesn’t. clark’s got a fucking brick in his pants that’s leaking, and once the minute’s passed by of her piss break she goes to clean herself up before pulling her pants back on. of course he uses his strength quicker than she could blink because it felt like an emergency to catch her before she could. yanking her up and pressing her to the wall while she stays pliant, dripping spare little remnants. he pulls his dick out in a hurry, riding the agonizing wave as he edges himself to the brink of cumming
now easily rutting himself up against her still slick wet slit and huffing a heavenly whine at how he could feel her. so freshly wet and warm making their parts glisten against each other so pretty. clark has a humiliating mini meltdown and cries out her name while his tip roughly circles and bumps against her opening, never stopping the movement of his hips when he cums and sprays her in his load. more cum flows out when he thinks of her dripping out her piss and his cum at the same time and it’s enough to make him whimper through every shockwave
I’ll—I’ll clean y’up, I promise—fu—ck, oh gosh it just feels so good…
she didn’t know what had gotten into him but she went along with it anyway. that time in particular clark couldn’t contain himself. had to clean up his cum that spurted all over her, had to make sure she was all dry and clean to go back out in public again. felt so ashamed of the excruciating unadulterated need buzzing through him. he wanted to be able to keep himself behaved. behaved like a gentleman. not like this erratic pervert he’s become that likes to watch his girlfriend piss
clark would feel so raw and vulnerable and dirty when he’s confessing it one night. her feet were propped up in his lap, bottle of beer getting passed back and forth. tv on with no one paying attention to it. she asks why he seems so nervous and quiet around her lately. of course clark stutters and turns pink. can’t even meet his girl’s warm eyes when he starts to tell her one of his biggest, messiest forbidden secrets
how he’s wanted to put a towel down on the bed whenever they get together, wanted to lay himself down on his back and have her hover over him to take a fat long leak all over his face while he tries to catch it all on his tongue. eventually drink all her release down like he was her own petty servant
all the shame and arousal fuse together and make an emotional whirlwind of a cocktail inside of clark. overthinking getting so bad he starts fully anticipating an awkward breakup or maybe even a restraining order after the words came tumbling out of him. I, I’ve had like—this thing for a while where I kinda like to watch you when you go.. when you’re… I just. I find myself wanting to know what it’ll taste like. what it’d feel like inside you while you’re…. y’know. while you’re letting it out, honey.
she gets this humongous grin spreading over her face. clark thinks a laugh track will come. but she just takes another long gulp of the foamy bottle of beer they’d been sharing and goes well, I gotta take a leak right now if you’re thirsty.
and that was that. months of feeling like a sick perverted wack job all came to a screeching halt. clark stares her dead in the eyes with all the seriousness in the world when he asks you serious?
I’m serious if you’re serious. when he hears that and gets the affirming nod, he doesn’t waste another second
clark’s rapid heartbeat makes him start heaving, grabbing her face and whimpering in a loving kiss. take off your panties, let me have a drink. I’ve been so thirsty baby.
she undoes herself and strips for him at the drop of a hat, watching clark’s tent grow while he ogles and tries to keep it together. shouldn’t be left thirsty, isn’t that what you always tell me? that I should stay hydrated? and clark can just whine an mmhm while he fiddles with her waistband. should get a.. a towel. or I can—
take off your shirt, let’s go to the tub.
after an eager yes ma’am he’s shirtless and splayed out in their dry bathtub, hard cock beating and veins fucking bulging in his pants. she’s positioned above him, panties thrown off somewhere and kneels down to pet his hair and kiss his lips. want me up high or up close?
hmm - want you close. closer baby, please clark begged. looks up at her through his eyelashes as she grins down at him, spreading more and lowering down until her pussy basically grazed his chin. she grabs the cold bottle and takes another chug, swallowing with a gulp. combs his hair and grins again. clark just nuzzles his face in, softly tugging and kissing on her pretty lips and rolling the hood of her clit around with his tongue. senses she’s still holding back and whimpers with his lips still on her please let go, please I need it. I have to taste it
he’s holding her up by her ass and keeping his lips on her when the first little spurt comes out and clark is already moaning. licking. whining while his dick leaks from excitement. the stream stops and his eyes shoot up to her, I know you have more than that. been drinking with me all night
she closes her eyes and clenches to let more out, getting a fuller stream going and clark looks drunk as he laps it up. laps her juices like a dog, licking and slurping and getting his nose and his chin all wet. he almost starts crying while his dick is throbbing, slapping up against his belly and leaving a snail trail as it beads out his pre everywhere
once she looks down and sees his face stuck in bliss she can tell he’s enjoying this more than anything. cock pulsing and he hasn’t even touched it. whines little vibrations against her clit while he gulps her messy stream down, completely out of breath
clark’s dick hurt. in the best way possible. his lips never stop moving and his throat can’t seize making noise, in utter heaven humping up into the air with no friction to help as he grinds his hips and keeps catching every drop. that tongue gets stretched out flat to lick along her slit up her clit, wiggling in z-motions and patterns while she grinds herself against his lips
you love drinking this pussy. you’ll drink anything I feed you, huh superboy?
clark shivers through his nod. bucking up his hips, sounding like a man dancing between ecstasy and pain. mouth barely pulling off to kitten lick her folds clean while he licked up the last drops of her piss load. can’t hold anything in anymore with a verbal mess of oh — oh god, oh god it’s so good — you taste. so. good. I can’t — I’m precumming baby, I’m almost gonna cum —
is my kent gonna cum for me dry? you gonna cum from drinking piss from some pussy? you’re not the innocent boy everyone thinks you are, baby, I love it so much. my dirty big boy
clark is still rutting vigorously at nothing but air, glistening wet tip brushing up against his waistband providing enough for him to bust on while he buries his face further into her cunt and shoves his tongue inside her to wiggle around
your dirty boy, yours — yours. I love you, I’m gonna cum so hard I can’t stop
that’s it baby, cum for me, cum in your boxers like this. make a mess for me and keep your mouth right there, she grabs the back of his head and fucks it, having a gutting deep orgasm of her own right as she’s clenching over his tastebuds. immediately feels how jarring it was for him to get to taste her piss and her cum back to back. making him get so turned on he’s whining right up against her and then she feels his seed rapidly start shooting up. splattering so warm and thick. easily getting runny down her ass while his cock throbs violently during every wave. with clark’s tongue still stuck up her cunt he keeps on cumming, keeps spurting ropes the hardest and the wettest load he’s given her in a little while
clark almost suffocates himself there between her legs on purpose, keeping his nose and his mouth all around her to invade his senses. smelling her, feeling her warmth, tasting her walls. clark pulls back with a gasp for air, still shivering with the hot afterglow after emptying his balls with zero stimulation, only from licking piss from his girlfriend’s cunt
she idly grinds against his nose some more just to ride it out, letting him clean her more. she feels how he’d tried his best to catch every drop while minor streaks spilled down his neck and to his chest. he whines with a tense throb when she uses an open palm to wipe some cum off his dick to bring it to her front and start spreading it around. leaving a thick and creamy mess
she grazes clark’s lips again with her clit, raising a brow with a giddy look on her face, pointing her hips forward as if to say here are your leftovers, eat up. so clark easily dives back in with a sated sigh, licking his cum off her pussy lips and dragging his tastebuds all around the dirty mess. thinks to himself that this was worth the prior humiliation. especially when she grabs the same unfinished beer and takes a swig then drops it down to his lips to feed him another sip. watching him while he stares at her with his mouth wrapped around the bottle, swallowing some of the liquid the same way he’d just finished swallowing her
pulls back from the tip of the bottle and rubs her bare ass and back. now your turn. drink. let’s get some water real quick, baby
she playfully rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh at him with a scratch of his scalp, wobbly standing up. clark steadies her with quick hands on her hips, ever the responsive caretaker
you just wanna drink my piss again.
whenever you let me he shrugs.
she makes him wash her fluids off his face before diving in for another kiss. from then on clark follows her to the bathroom like a puppy with codependency, holding her hand while she relieves herself and sometimes luring her to the tub for more water sports again
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summary: sometimes, it's just too big. but clark knows you can take it.
CWs: 18+ MDNI!!!! clark kent x fem!reader, size kink, mating press, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it folks), snarky!clark, kissing, some praise, use of pet names, clark's a good man even though he's a little sassy, established relationship i guess?, talking you through it i guess? in a way?, no use of y/n. i think that's it!
author's note: quick little thing because i haven't posted in a while, i hope you all enjoy! literally wrote this in my drafts so i don't even have a word count. im assuming it's around 1.5k? anyways, sorry about the lack of content guys - working on a massive multi-chapter fic AND putting some stuff together for 1k. should have some more stuff posted later this week (maybe)! love you all!
"Fuck," you hiss, head tilted back and burying itself into the pillows beneath it. You suck in a stuttered, shallow breath and whine it out. You're unable to take any sort of full breaths, anyway; Clark's too busy taking up all the space in and around your body.
He's got you pressed into the mattress, completely unable to do anything but focus on the way he's fucking you. It's a brutal mating press this time. Your legs are curled up almost to your chest, and his arms are caging you in, and the way he's got his face tucked into the crook of your neck is ensuring that you're feeling all of his weight. Just how you like it.
And although the mating press is brutal, his pace is not. It's slow, and deep, and careful, because Clark knows how much you can handle. Knows you well enough to clock when you need him to take his time. Knows exactly how to ensure that you're enjoying yourself, and, make no mistake—you are enjoying yourself.
But he's just so fucking big. Buried in you so deep. All nine inches of him, hard and heavy and utterly and completely filling. All 6'5 of his height and 240 pounds of his weight pinning you down beneath him.
Sometimes he's too big.
Clark shifts above you. He's still got you in that mating press, but now one of his arms is tucking beneath your waist, moving your hips up just enough to make him push deeper into you. You gasp. It's the first time that you're able to suck in that much air since he's been on top of you.
"Clark!" you whine, loud and stilted and a little strained. You'd been screaming all fucking night. You're surprised you even have a voice anymore.
"S'too big!"
He smiles against your neck. Trails a few soft kisses on the column of your throat before he lifts his head out of your neck and looks down at you. You don't realize he's taken his arm out from beneath your waist until you feel his hand on your chin tilting your face down and forcing you to look into his eyes.
"Did I hear that right? It's too big, baby?"
He punctuates that question by pulling back, almost completely out of you, then pushing all the way back in. Every fucking inch. All in less than a second. A quick, deep thrust, one that punches all of the air out of your lungs for the thousandth time tonight. Your back arches as much as it can with all of his heft on top of you. The shallow excuse of a breath you had frantically sucked in gets shoved out of your chest.
“Yes!” you squeak out. Clark laughs at you; it’s not cruel, but it has your already flushed face burning a little more. He presses his hips a little deeper, a little harder, and your eyes roll back into your head. That ache, that familiar burn with getting stretched open on his cock, is the most confusing thing; feels so good even though he’s practically on the verge of splitting you in half. You throw your head back, and your hips squirm, and your fingers dig into the bedsheets beneath your body so you can try and pull yourself away from him.
It’s no use, though. Clark’s hand leaves your chin and attaches to your right hip, his hold on you tight and sturdy; you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. Not that you’d actually want to, of course.
“You want me to take it out?” he asks.
That question wasn’t really a question. Maybe it was a threat. Or a death sentence, because taking all of that pain and pleasure away before you can finish might actually kill you. Almost as much of a death sentence as the way he pulls his hips back; this time, he pulls all the way back. Completely out of you. He keeps the thick, blunt tip of his cock pressed against your cunt, though. What a fucking tease.
Your eyes shoot open and, through all your quick panting and pathetic whimpering, you manage to glare at him and cry out, “No!”
He flashes one of those pretty crooked smiles at you. Always so cocky whenever he hasn’t earned the right to be. Just makes him hotter.
“No?” he asks. Then he huffs.
“Thought you said it was too big, honey?”
You start to push out a garbled mess of a protest, but you cut yourself off with a guttural, borderline animalistic moan when you feel him gently glide his length through your sensitive folds. A soft, back and forth rocking that only lasts a couple seconds. The slick sound when he rolls his hips back and forth is nothing but sinful. Makes your pussy flutter and clench around—much to your dismay—nothing.
“Please,” you beg, breathy and whiny and pathetic above all else. You haven’t been able to take a full, deep breath since he’s started fucking you. Unfortunately, the panicking from how he isn’t fucking you anymore has squeezed your lungs like a vice. Can’t take a deep breath without him fucking you, either. All you can do is pant up at him like some sort of bitch in heat, and…well, it wouldn’t be a stretch to classify yourself as one.
Clark picks up on that, judging by the way his hand glides up your stomach and toward your chest. His palm lays over the center of it, allowing his fingers to splay out over your flushed, sticky skin. His hand is, just like him, massive. Proportionate to his gigantic body. The tips of his fingers can reach your collarbones while his thumb is steadily brushing back and forth over the spot just above your heart. He could probably hear it hammering in your chest, just like he can hear every pitiful excuse of a breath you keep trying to suck in.
“Tell you what,” he mutters. “You take one deep breath for me, and I’ll put it back in.”
“Clark,” you groan, a wobbly little pant that you struggled to get out.
“Breathe,” he commands. “Breathe, or you’re not getting what you want.”
Now he’s holding himself hostage from you. Of course.
In true Clark fashion, he teases you while he’s waiting for your response. Continues to gently glide his cock through your folds, letting out a soft, low growl and hanging his head for a moment. He laughs, breathy and a little desperate, and his hips buck. It sends a jolt through both of your bodies; seems like the idiot’s gone and teased himself, too.
“Better do it fast, honey. Don’t think I can last much longer.”
How does one force their brain to force their lungs to manually breathe? In, out, in, out. Seems pretty simple. But your brain doesn’t wanna cooperate, because all you can feel is the tip of Clark’s cock brushing over your clit again and again and again as he keeps rolling his hips. You whimper so loudly that it echoes off your bedroom walls; when your head falls back onto your pillow, you shut your eyes. Squeeze them so tight that you see stars—although that could also be because of the oxygen you’ve been depriving yourself of.
Then, it happens. You do some sort of hard reset. You suck in a big, deep breath, chest fully expanding and bumping against Clark’s.
“Atta girl. I knew you could do it,” he purrs. Leans down to press soft kisses on your chin, and the corner of your lips, and down your jaw while he lines himself up and sinks right back into your cunt. There’s no resistance at all. Your breath hitches in your throat and you tense up, mouth dropping open without any permission from your brain. Although, your brain’s letting you down a lot right now, so…best to not depend on it.
“Give me another deep breath, baby,” Clark whispers, breath fanning out against your ear. He’s buried to the hilt again, voice a little strung out and voice a little shaky. But he’s doing a lot better than you, so who are you to talk?
You can’t breathe again. He’s too deep, and he feels too good, and the angle he’s got you at is keeping his tip pressed right against that spongy spot that makes you shake when he pays too much attention to it. Your fingers, desperate to find something to tear up, meet his shoulders—if he was a normal human being, you’d have left a few deep cuts in his back from how hard you just clawed down it.
But you manage to do it after a beat. To suck in a deep breath, to moan it out, to blubber about how good he’s got you feeling. Or maybe it was just gibberish. Who knows? At least you got the air in. At least you rediscovered how to breathe.
“Just like that, baby. Good girl,” he praises you. Honey-sweet, like he always is.
“You keep breathing deep and slow like that for me, and we’ll go as long as you want.”
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 Sukuna Ryomen's ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ mumbling when he doesn't get his daily morning kisses .✦ ݁˖
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, golden stripes across the tatami mats. Usually, you would spend at least ten minutes entangled in Ryomen's suffocating, four-armed embrace, enduring his rough-textured skin and sleepy grunts. But today, you were late.
You slid out of the futon, throwing on a robe and tying your hair back in a rush. You didn’t notice the immediate shift in the room's energy—the way the heavy, oppressive aura of the King of Curses suddenly stirred.
As you paced around the kitchen island, frantically brewing coffee and packing a bag, a towering figure leaned against the doorframe.
Ryomen looked a mess.
His pink hair was completely wild, his yukata hung loosely off one broad shoulder, and all four of his eyes were narrowed into slits. He crossed his upper arms, while his lower arms rested on his hips.
Then, the mumbling started.
“...unbelievable,” he growled softly, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that still carried the weight of sleep. “Brat wakes up, doesn't say a word. Walks right past me like I'm some common curse in the streets. After everything I tolerate...”
You paused, holding a spoon. “Ryomen, did you say something?”
He didn't look at you.
Instead, he stared intently at a spot on the kitchen wall, his lower jaw shifting as he continued to mutter under his breath. “I should dismantle this entire house. The audacity. A thousand years ago, men bled out in the dirt just for a glimpse of my face, and here I am, being ignored for a cup of bean water. Truly pathetic.”
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips.
You set the spoon down and turned to face him fully. “Are you throwing a tantrum?”
“I don't throw tantrums, human,” he snapped, though his eyes finally flicked to yours, burning with mock irritation. “I state facts. You lack discipline. You lack respect.”
He took a slow, deliberate step into the kitchen, his massive frame completely eclipsing the light. He didn't stop until he was inches away from you, trapping you between his chest and the kitchen counter. His extra hands came down on either side of you, effectively pinning you in place.
“Well?” he murmured, leaning his face down. His upper eyes were squinted shut in a pout he would die before admitting to, while his lower eyes watched your mouth. “Are you going to fix your mistake, or do I have to remind you who rules this domain?”
You laughed softly, reaching up to cup his jaw.
His skin was warm, and the rough markings beneath your fingers felt familiar.
“Good morning, Ryomen,” you whispered.
You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Instantly, the tense lines of his shoulders relaxed. Before you could pull away, his upper hands caught the back of your head, deep-fruiting his fingers into your hair to prolong the kiss, turning it into something possessive and deep.
When he finally let you go, a smug, satisfied smirk had replaced his scowl.
“Hmph...” he grunted, turning on his heel to head toward the porch, his yukata trailing behind him. “See that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I won't be so lenient.”
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