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Honestly it would be hilarious if Clark and Bruce started dating and Clark was unaware that Bruce was batman or knew his identity.
At some point Bruce kisses him as superman after a rescue and Clark is emotionally going through it coz his boyfriend kissed another guy. Even if that guy is technically him he's still mad and jealous of himself somehow coz even superman can't compete with Superman. He's not even sure whether or not to confronted Bruce about his affair since it keeps happening.
While he's trying to figure all this out Batman,of all people, kisses him. And he does it so casually. Sure, Clark had a crush on him for a while but he's over it now and he's in a committed relationship that he thought batman knew about. Now he's extra scared of confronting Bruce because he doesn't want it to look like he's just starting a fight so he can be with batman. And he's still hoping there's a way to work through this and for them to be together. He's being haunted by his moral code to just talk about this and get it over with but he's still afraid of losing Bruce and living in the shadow of the idolized version of himself again.
*Meanwhile in the batcave*
La la la Bruce, twirling around liking a fairy princess living his best life: my boyfriend's the best and every thing is perfect. Maybe world peace is real. Is this what happiness feels like?
The bat kids have tried giving him several rabies shots and an exorcism.
Love the difference between Superman saving Bruce vs Superboy saving Tim because Clark is trying very hard to act like he's never seen Bruce Wayne a day in his life and has no idea who this celebrity billionaire is while Bruce tries to pretend like this isn't the most humiliating moment of his entire existence. Kon, on the other hand, is an immediate threat to anyone in a 6 mile radius because his human has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag and would sacrifice himself for a child's balloon animal at the drop of a hat. Tim's probably already trying to crawl out of his arms to start working on a solution to whatever he needed saving from to begin with. Reporters have a field day with it all, though the Batfam arguably has way more fun.
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ᯓ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: porn with no plot, Oral sex (fem!reader receiving & giving), Threesome, Cum play Face-fucking / throatfucking, Creampie Dirty talk, Hair pulling, nipple play, Spit and fluid swapping, Intense overstimulation, Semi-public setting (car scene), Possessiveness / soft dominance, Praise kink, Rough sex / rough oral, Minimal aftercare
Oh, hi Clark,” you say, voice warm and teasing as you wave and stroll up to him.
Clark Kent tall, awkward, glasses slipping a bit down his nose turns your way. That sheepish smile of his tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to look at you without making it obvious he's flustered.
“H-hi, Y/N,” he murmurs, almost under his breath, eyes darting anywhere but directly at you.
You step in close, catching the subtle intake of breath he doesn’t mean to let out. Your hand finds his arm and, with a gentle but deliberate tug, you pull the six-foot-four bundle of nerves down toward your height.
“You have the prettiest eyes,” you whisper into his ear, your breath warm against his skin.
His body stiffens slightly, and you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your caramel skin, the way your tank top clings to your curves, the deep swell of cleavage practically on display for him.
“Are you hanging out with us today?” you ask, your voice sugary sweet. Then, without waiting for his answer, you push him back until his broad frame meets the wall. “Or are we gonna have to drag you along?”
Clark doesn’t answer right away. He’s too distracted, too overwhelmed by the proximity of you, the scent of your perfume, the way your hands are roaming now slow and deliberate, exploring his chest and sliding down further.
“I’ll… I’ll t-try,” he stammers, but you just sigh.
“Try’ isn’t good enough,” you murmur as your lips begin to trail down the side of his face soft, glossy kisses that leave a faint shimmer behind. Your hands keep moving, unapologetically slow, until they pause at the very obvious bulge straining against his pants.
A strangled groan escapes him when your palm presses against it.
“Aww, poor baby,” you coo, rubbing over the fabric as your eyes flick down the empty hallway. Satisfied you’re alone, well, alone except for the quiet figure in the corner you glance back at Bruce, who’s watching silently, arms folded, a smirk playing on his face.
You grin.
Then, turning back to Clark, you move with intent unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and slipping your hand past the waistband of his boxers. His breath catches completely when your fingers wrap around his hard cock, already slick with precum. He stiffens even more, leaning forward until his forehead rests weakly against your shoulder.
You stroke him with smooth, confident motions, thumb gliding over the sensitive head, spreading the wetness and watching how he practically melts in your arms.
“F-fuck… please…” he whimpers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, helpless.
“Please what?” you murmur, never losing rhythm. “Use your words, Clark.”
But he just shakes his head, overwhelmed and panting, and so without warning you stop.
You remove your hand and take a step back, licking your lips as he whimpers at the loss of contact. His hips twitch forward like he’s still chasing the sensation.
“No- please, don’t stop,” he begs, but you grab his chin firmly, forcing him to meet your gaze.
“You’re hanging out with us today, right?” you ask again, your voice gentler now but no less commanding.
He nods this time. Earnest. Submissive. Desperate.
“Good boy.” You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his parted lips before fixing his pants and zipping them back up for him, patting him playfully on the crotch as you do.
Just then, Bruce strolls over. His arm slides around your waist with practiced ease as he sizes Clark up, his voice low and threatening in that casual way only Bruce can manage.
“We’ll come get you after school, pretty boy. Don’t make us come find you,” he says, giving Clark a shove that’s more warning than playful.
You giggle and kiss Bruce on the cheek, waving over your shoulder as you saunter away. “See you later, baby.”
Clark stays pressed against the wall for a moment, dazed and breathless, his heart pounding and his still-hard cock throbbing uncomfortably in his jeans. He watches you go, and wonders how in the hell he’s supposed to make it through the rest of the day.
You didn’t let up not for a second.
Every time you passed Clark in the hallway that day, you greeted him the same way: a slow, sultry wave paired with that smile he couldn’t stop thinking about. You didn’t need to say anything else. Just the way your eyes lingered on him was enough to keep his already overstimulated brain in overdrive.
Clark, for his part, could barely function. Each time you passed, his breath caught. His cheeks flushed red. His posture tightened as he subtly tried to shift or cover the very obvious bulge still straining against his pants since your last encounter.
It didn’t help that during class, you sat right next to him. You didn’t touch him didn’t say a word. Just stared. Silently. Smirking. Your gaze burned hotter than any hand, and he squirmed in his seat the entire period, trying not to moan whenever your foot brushed his under the desk. The minutes dragged.
And by lunchtime, he was visibly wrecked.
You sat across from him, surrounded by your usual circle of friends, Bruce sitting casually at your side, watching Clark with the same barely concealed amusement. Clark picked at his food, head down, trying not to make eye contact until you stretched your leg out under the table and planted your foot right between his thighs.
Right on that poor, persistent bulge.
He let out a strangled groan, the sound low but raw, like he was in pain. His hand flew to his lap, trying to subtly swat you away without drawing attention but of course, that only made you press harder, heel grazing along the length of him.
You didn’t say a thing. Just smiled and sipped your drink like you weren’t torturing him.
To Clark, it felt like the longest day of his life. Every tick of the clock felt like a personal attack. He couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe without thinking about the way your hands had felt on him or how it still somehow wasn’t enough.
By the time the last bell rang, he moved like a zombie.
He walked to his locker with painful slowness, dragging every step like maybe just maybe he could delay what was coming. He knew you and Bruce would be waiting outside. He knew what was probably going to happen. And still… he wasn’t ready.
Not mentally. Not physically. But his body sure didn’t care.
Once he stepped outside, the sun hit his face and then so did the sound of a familiar car horn.
“Clark! Over here!” Your voice rang out.
He looked up to see you hopping out of the sleek black car, waving enthusiastically. Your smile hit him like a sucker punch. He sighed heavily, squaring his shoulders like he was about to march into battle. And yet… he walked.
Each step brought him closer to you. And when he finally reached the curb, you wrapped your arms around his neck without hesitation and pressed a glossy kiss to his cheek.
“Yay, Clark! You’re here,” you said sweetly, like this wasn’t the latest chapter in a slow-burning, daily humiliation campaign.
You opened the car door and gestured inside. “Get in.”
He obeyed silently, sliding into the backseat and you slid in right after him, scooting close enough that your thigh pressed against his. He couldn’t even look at you. His heart was pounding too fast.
“We haven’t seen you in forever,” Bruce said from the front seat, glancing at Clark in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the school.
Clark just nodded, barely.
“Asked all your loser-ass friends where you were,” Bruce continued with a chuckle, “and they all said the same thing that you’d disappeared.”
He looked at Clark again. “So. Where’ve you been?”
Clark’s throat was dry. He swallowed hard before answering. “I- I was with my mother.”
You nodded, lips twitching like you were proud of how easy it was to get under his skin.
“That’s sweet,” you murmured right before climbing into his lap, slow and deliberate, facing him. Your skirt barely covered anything now, and you didn’t waste time before grinding your hips down, pressing your full weight against the hardened bulge beneath you.
Clark’s head tipped back with a soft, desperate groan.
“How’s your mom?” Bruce asked casually, not missing a beat.
Clark tried to respond. Really, he did.
“She’s… good- fuck- she’s good,” he choked out, eyes squeezing shut as his hands found your hips, then slid to your lower back, urging you to grind harder.
You didn’t need encouragement. You were already moving slowly, deliberately, the friction just enough to keep him trembling and on edge.
The car rolled smoothly through the streets, but in the backseat, it was anything but calm.
Clark was unraveling all over again and this time, you weren’t stopping.
“You sure you haven’t been avoiding us?” Bruce asked, glancing at Clark through the rearview mirror, his voice casual but laced with something heavier underneath. “Couldn’t call? Not even a text?”
Clark nodded quickly, the lie practically written all over his flushed face. His breathing was already shaky, especially with you sliding lower in the backseat, right between his legs.
You didn’t say anything at first. You simply worked, slow and deliberate, unbuttoning his soft plaid shirt one button at a time. His chest rose and fell in sharp little bursts with every inch of exposed skin. But you didn’t stop until your head was resting right against the hard, pulsing bulge straining through his boxers.
“I missed you,” you murmured, nuzzling him through the fabric, your palm rubbing gentle circles over the outline of his cock.
He moaned low, almost embarrassed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening again but also couldn’t bear it stopping.
You moved with purpose, undoing his belt and dragging the zipper down inch by inch. But you didn’t pull his cock out just yet. No, you started teasing him first fisting him through the fabric, stroking him slow and firm as he twitched in your grasp.
“Missed this,” you whispered, your voice soaked in something sweet and sinful, your eyes locked on his. “Missed how heavy it feels in my hand.”
He whimpered, biting his lip as his hips rolled helplessly into your palm.
Finally, you tugged his boxers down and his cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, flushed deep red and already glistening with precum.
You gasped softly, lips parting in genuine awe. “Fuck… I missed how big it is.”
From the front seat, Bruce let out a low chuckle and glanced back. “Damn. Look how red it is,” he muttered, before turning his eyes back to the road, unfazed.
You tapped the head of Clark’s cock with your fingertips, watching it twitch with need. Then, you leaned in, dragging your tongue across the tip lapping up the salty precum with a moan that made Clark shudder.
His head fell back against the seat with a thump. “Oh- oh my god…”
You didn’t give him a second to breathe.
You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling slow and filthy circles. Your hand wrapped around the base, pumping in time with your mouth as you began to take more of him, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm.
“F-fuck,” Clark stammered, his hands flying to your hair, clutching tight.
You let him guide you- deeper, faster- his hips rocking forward as you took him further into your throat. Your nose pressed against his stomach as you gagged softly, but you didn’t pull away. You moaned around him instead, the vibrations making him twitch hard in your mouth.
You cupped his balls with your free hand, gently kneading them. Sometimes you pulled off just to suck them into your mouth, making Clark whimper and arch off the seat.
It was messy. Lewd. Perfect.
He was falling apart, and you wanted him like that. Desperate. Breathless. Yours.
“Nngh- Y/N- fuck- I’m close,” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair. His thighs were trembling, trying to stay still, but failing completely.
You didn’t stop. You just doubled down faster strokes, deeper sucks, your mouth and hands working in perfect sync as he began to lift off the seat again.
You reached up, palm flat against his chest, and shoved him back down firmly, never breaking rhythm.
“F-fuck let me cum, please,” he moaned, eyes darting from you to Bruce in the front, needing permission like a good boy. “Please…”
Bruce didn’t say a word but you looked up at him and gave a single nod.
Clark came with a strangled cry, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, letting some spill over your lip just to feel the way he twitched harder at the sight. You finally pulled off with a lewd little pop, his cock wet and twitching from the aftershocks.
But before you moved, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him the mess he’d made of you.
He groaned loud, broken, completely gone.
You crawled back into his lap, grabbed the front of his open shirt, and pulled him into a deep, filthy kiss, your lips sticky, your tongue demanding, making sure he tasted just how much you’d missed him.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the manor, the smooth purr of the engine falling into silence. The weight of everything that had just happened still hung thick in the air.
Bruce stepped out first, shutting the driver’s side door with that calm, efficient grace only he had. He circled around to the back and pulled open the door to your side, peering in with the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The streetlight cast a soft glow over him as he leaned in.
“Let’s get you guys inside,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-soft.
He reached for you, hands strong and steady as he helped you out of the car. The movement separated you from Clark, who was still slumped back in the seat, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.
You wiped the corner of your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, smearing your lip gloss a little, and tugged the hem of your skirt back down over your thighs. Then you turned, just in time to see Clark climbing out of the car his cheeks flushed, hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned and cock still awkwardly tucked away in his pants.
You smiled like the picture of innocence and bounced over to his side, wrapping your arm around his and tugging him toward you.
“We are going to have so much fun tonight,” you whispered against his ear, your voice giddy, laced with heat.
Clark’s ears burned red as he let you guide him forward, every step hesitant but obedient.
Inside the manor, the energy shifted. The massive entryway was dimly lit, quiet except for the soft sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor and the rustle of expensive fabric. You led the way without a second thought, your fingers still curled around Clark’s wrist as you pulled him toward the grand staircase.
Bruce followed at a leisurely pace, his expression unreadable but clearly amused.
Upstairs, you turned down the hall toward the master bedroom massive, warm-toned, filled with soft golden lighting, plush furniture, and a bed so large it could comfortably fit all three of you.
You stepped inside and dropped onto it with a soft, contented sigh, immediately sliding up to the center and leaning back. Your legs parted slightly, hands slipping between them, fingers toying idly with the hem of your panties beneath your skirt as you looked up at them.
Bruce was the first to sit down beside you. Smooth. Confident. Relaxed.
Clark followed, though slower, more tentative his knees brushing the edge of the mattress like he was waiting for permission. Still flushed, still wrecked, still unable to hide the way his eyes moved between the two of you with raw, unfiltered want.
You smiled sweetly, propping yourself up on one elbow.
“I love you guys,” you whispered softly, almost dreamlike.
You leaned toward Bruce first, cupping his jaw as you kissed him slow, deep, and possessive. His hand curled around your thigh in response, anchoring you in place as he kissed you back with quiet dominance.
Then you turned to Clark. His breath caught the moment your lips neared his. You kissed him gentler, like coaxing something shy and trembling. His mouth opened for you immediately, needy, pliant. Your hand moved to his cheek, thumb stroking softly as you deepened the kiss, tasting the quiet moan that slipped from his throat.
Bruce watched, lips parted slightly as he leaned back on one hand, letting you take the lead for now.
When you pulled back, your eyes glittered.
Clark looked dazed again.
You leaned close, whispering against his lips. “Take your shirt off for me, baby.”
Clark hesitated only a second before obeying. He shrugged off the half-unbuttoned plaid shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders. His hands hovered uncertainly in his lap, hiding himself.
You sat up slowly, eyes fixed on Clark’s trembling form, and reached for his hands. He tried to keep them in his lap, shielding himself out of sheer instinct, but you gently pushed them away.
“You don’t need to hide anything,” you murmured, your voice low and coaxing, palm pressing firmly over the thick length straining against his boxers. “Not from me.”
He sucked in a shaky breath, hips twitching forward ever so slightly into your touch.
Beside you, Bruce shifted. One of his large, warm hands slid up your bare thigh fingers curling with slow possessiveness, tracing the shape of your leg like he owned it. You turned toward him, lips parting as you kissed him again, deeper this time. There was no rush in it just heat, confidence, control. Bruce tasted like calm dominance, and you drank it in as your fingers tightened on Clark.
Then Bruce leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs wider. You followed without hesitation, climbing smoothly into his lap, the hem of your skirt riding high on your thighs. His hands gripped your waist, grounding you there.
Without a word, he grabbed the bottom of your tank top and peeled it off with practiced ease, revealing the soft lace of your bra. His hands brushed your bare sides, and you pulled away from the kiss, breath heavy, the room now thick with heat.
You turned your head just in time to see Clark still kneeling on the mattress, still completely captivated. His lips were parted, chest rising and falling hard. His cock strained visibly through his boxers again, pulsing with want.
You smiled at him, slow and wicked.
Your finger curled in his direction. “Come here, baby.”
Clark moved instantly, almost clumsily, crawling over the sheets toward you. You slid off Bruce’s lap and into Clark’s instead, straddling him with a soft sigh as your hands came up to cradle his jaw. You kissed him gently at first, coaxing him to relax, but it wasn’t long before the kiss deepened your tongue slipping past his lips, your body grinding down against his hard-on through the thin barrier of his boxers.
Clark moaned into your mouth, desperate and pliant beneath you.
You were so focused on him you didn’t even notice Bruce moving until you felt the warmth of his mouth brushing against your chest.
He kissed along the curve of your bra, letting the heat of his breath tease your skin, before reaching to unclasp it in one smooth motion. The straps slid down your arms, and the lace fell away completely.
Bruce’s mouth followed, trailing kisses from your collarbone to the soft swell of your breasts. His hands replaced his lips, cupping you with slow reverence, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.
Clark pulled back from your kiss only to look, his lips slick, eyes dazed and blown wide as he watched Bruce’s mouth press wet kisses to your nipples, watched your head tip back, lips parting as you let out a soft, breathy moan.
“F-fuck,” Clark whispered, hips jerking up instinctively beneath you.
You opened your eyes slowly, still catching your breath, your hand drifting down the hard line of Clark’s chest, fingertips light as air. His skin jumped under your touch, taut with tension and desperate want.
“See what you’ve been missing, baby?” you whispered, voice laced with honey and heat, a teasing smile curling at your lips.
Clark looked utterly wrecked, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded, his cock twitching visibly through his boxers. But he nodded, barely, as if the only thing keeping him from begging was the sheer lack of air in his lungs.
Bruce paused behind you, his hand still between your legs, fingers slick from teasing your soaked folds. You moved then pulled away from both men with a soft sigh and stood on shaking legs at the edge of the bed. Slowly, you reached behind your back, dragging the zipper of your skirt down until it slipped off your hips and pooled at your feet.
Then came your panties drenched, thin, and practically useless at that point. You stepped out of them, and climbed back onto the bed, sinking into the sheets and reclining slowly until your head rested on the pillows.
Your legs spread apart with no shame, no hesitation, just raw want.
The warm light of the room bathed your glistening cunt as you raised your hand to your lips, sucking two fingers into your mouth with a lewd pop before sliding them down your stomach.
You didn’t look away from them. Not once.
You pressed your wet fingers to your folds and began rubbing slow, firm circles around your clit, hips twitching as the first jolt of pleasure rolled through you. Your other hand moved to your chest, tweaking your nipple, moaning softly as you began to lose yourself.
“F-fuck… You guys like this, huh?” you panted, arching your back as one finger slipped inside your heat, curling just enough to make you cry out. Then two.
Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed that spot, that spot and your hips rolled up into your hand. Your mouth parted in a silent scream, toes curling, slick sounds filling the room with every pump of your fingers.
Bruce finally stood up, and you watched as he unzipped his pants, dropping them low enough to free his already thick, aching cock. He stroked it lazily, eyes locked on you, jaw tight with restraint.
You whimpered, withdrawing your hand just as he stepped closer, the head of his cock brushing your inner thigh, your soaked folds twitching in anticipation.
But he didn’t push in. Not yet.
Instead, he ran the flushed head of his cock along your slit up and down, tapping your clit once, twice, again. You whined and writhed beneath him.
“Bruce, please,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Stop teasing me just fuck me, please.”
But he didn’t move. He just smirked.
Then he turned to Clark, still seated nearby, panting through parted lips like he couldn’t believe what he was watching.
“What do you think?” Bruce asked casually, never once taking his cock away from your desperate cunt. “Should I give it to her?”
Clark’s wide eyes dropped down to your face, then lower to the way your body trembled, your legs spread wide, your entrance dripping and pulsing around nothing. Then he looked back at Bruce and nodded, voice barely more than a whisper.
“Yes.”
Bruce smiled slowly, and turned his attention back to you.
“Good,” he murmured and then thrust in.
You let out a scream, your hands fisting the sheets as his thick cock split you open in one smooth, devastating stroke. You were so wet he slid in deep, bottoming out, already pressing hard against that soft, spongy spot inside you that made your vision blur.
He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a brutal pace right away. Skin clapped against skin, the obscene fap, fap, fap echoing through the room.
If someone walked in they’d see your cunt swallowing Bruce’s cock like it was made for you, your body jerking with every thrust, legs shaking, mouth open in a moan you couldn’t catch.
Clark moved closer, crawling toward you, his gaze dark with need. He leaned in and began kissing down your body, your neck, your chest, your breasts. He sucked bruises into your skin without hesitation, marking you in places you knew would show. You didn’t care. You wanted them.
“Clark- fuck- B-Bruce-” You didn’t know who you were moaning for anymore, not when Bruce was wrecking you from below and Clark was devouring you from above.
Then Bruce pulled out suddenly, flipping you over with ease.
He positioned you on all fours head low, ass high, your body now facing Clark’s lap. His cock was out now too, thick and flushed and twitching, smeared with precum.
You whimpered.
Bruce sank back into your cunt without warning, making your elbows buckle. Your face dropped into Clark’s thigh, moaning helplessly as your hips slammed back to meet Bruce’s thrusts.
Clark looked down at you stunned, turned on beyond belief.
You tilted your head up, lips already parted, eyes hazy.
“Please, Clark,” you begged, your voice raw. “Please let me suck your cock.”
He didn’t hesitate. His hand tangled in your hair and guided you to him, and the second your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, he let out a broken groan.
You bobbed your head in time with Bruce’s thrusts, drooling around Clark’s cock, spit dripping down your chin. Bruce held your hips tightly, pounding into you, pushing your body forward and every thrust shoved you deeper onto Clark’s cock.
“F-fuck- Y/N- your mouth is- shit-” Clark stammered, head falling back, both hands now gripping your hair, guiding your pace.
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. All you could do was feel Bruce’s cock slamming into your soaked pussy, Clark’s cock sliding deep into your throat, spit and slick mixing into a filthy, beautiful mess as the two of them used your body exactly how you needed.
And you’d never felt more full. More owned. More worshipped.
Clark’s cock pulsed in your mouth with every flick of your tongue, every moan that spilled from your throat while Bruce ruined you from behind. His hands fisted in your hair, but he wasn’t pulling too hard more like holding on for dear life. You could feel him trembling beneath you, thighs tense, breath caught somewhere in his chest.
Bruce, on the other hand, had no such hesitation.
His pace was brutal now, fucking into you with long, hard strokes that knocked the air from your lungs. Your body rocked forward with every thrust, forcing you to take Clark deeper down your throat. It was relentless, overwhelming, and so fucking good your knees threatened to give out.
“Look at you,” Bruce growled behind you, voice husky and dark. “Taking both of us like the filthy little thing you are.”
You moaned around Clark’s cock in response, the sound sending a shiver through him. He cursed and bucked into your mouth, precum leaking onto your tongue. You swallowed it eagerly, moaning again just to feel him twitch harder.
Your cunt was soaked slick dripping down your thighs, pooling under you, coating Bruce’s cock with every stroke. And he was so deep now, so perfectly thick, hitting that spot inside you over and over again until you were a mess of noise and sensation.
“Y/N- fuck- I’m gonna cum,” Clark gasped, pulling on your hair again, gentler this time, like he didn’t want to hurt you but couldn’t hold back. “I’m so close…”
You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, using one hand to stroke what you couldn’t take, your fingers sticky with spit and precum. His hips bucked helplessly, and you groaned when Bruce angled your hips even higher, thrusting so deep you saw stars.
Then it hit.
Bruce slammed in hard, and your whole body arched as your orgasm tore through you. Your walls clenched violently around him, crying out around Clark’s cock as your limbs shook beneath the pressure. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think just felt, wave after wave pulsing from your core outward.
Bruce cursed behind you, gripping your hips like a vice as he buried himself to the hilt. You felt him swell, then spill inside you thick and hot, filling you up until it spilled out with every slow roll of his hips. He stayed there, panting, his cock twitching inside your still-throbbing pussy.
But you didn’t stop.
Clark was next.
You pulled your mouth off him with a pop, a line of spit connecting your lips to his cock. Your eyes locked with his half-lidded, soaked in tears and ruined mascara and you whispered, “Come for me, baby.”
Then you wrapped your lips around the head again, sucked once hard and stroked the rest with your hand.
That was all it took.
Clark cried out, fingers tightening in your hair as he came down your throat, warm and salty and overwhelming. You swallowed around him, greedy and slow, milking every drop as his body trembled beneath you.
You pulled off with one last soft suck, licking your lips and panting as you collapsed halfway into his lap, thighs trembling, body spent.
Bruce pulled out slowly behind you, his cum dripping from between your legs, making a mess of your thighs and the sheets. He leaned down, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, his palm rubbing lazy circles along your back as you tried to steady your breathing.
You looked up at Clark, who was still dazed, chest heaving.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, brushing your hair back with shaking hands.
You smiled, eyes glazed but bright, and sat up enough to kiss him soft, slow, sweet. A stark contrast to what had just happened.
Then you leaned back onto Bruce’s chest as he laid beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist. Clark joined you on the other side, draping an arm over your hips, both of them still catching their breath.
You nestled between them, sweat-slick and glowing, your body aching in the best possible way.
The room was silent for a moment, nothing but the sound of steady breathing and cooling skin.
Then you laughed quietly.
“I told you we’d have fun tonight.”
Bruce smirked, nuzzling your neck. “And we’re not even done yet.”
