The bass was drilling straight into your skull. At some point it stopped being music and started being punishment.
You were slumped sideways in the booth, cheek pressed against the table, eyes barely open. Your drink sits abandoned somewhere, condensation pooling like evidence of your bad decisions.
“Okay, that’s it,” your friend mutters. “We’re calling him.”
Your brain latches onto one word. shit.
“Him.”
You lifted your head an inch and immediate regret washed through you. The world tilted like it’s trying to throw you off.
“Don’t—” you mumble, reaching out. You miss completely, hand just… floating there. "traitor...", you mumble as you mock glare at your friend , who was busy dialing the number.
you don't realize as time passed, but you could sense it, a presence that cuts through the noise, through the haze in your head.
A hand on your shoulder. Firm and warm.
“You with me?”
You blink slowly, forcing your eyes to focus- and there he was. Simon stood over you like the physical embodiment of consequences.
You smile as the sight of him , “…Hi, handsome.” you manage to mumble.
“Jesus.”, simon hissed through his teeth.
You push yourself up a little, which was already too ambitious. The room spined hard and you wobbled, but he’s already there. One arm slid around your waist, catching you before gravity won.
“Careful,” he mutters.
You leaned into him without hesitation, head tipping toward his shoulder.
“Mmm. You came,” you murmur, voice soft and absolutely not as subtle as you think it is.
“Yeah,” he says flatly. “Against my better judgment.”
You grin faintly. “Liar.”
His grip tightens just slightly as you sway again.
“Can you stand?”
You consider it and decide honesty is optional.
“For you? Always.”, you grin at him, earning mock irritation.
Your knees nearly give out and you end up clinging to him, arms wrapping loosely around his torso. Then his hand comes up, firm at your back, holding you in place.
“Right,” he mutters. “We’re not doing that again.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes half-lidded.
“You smell nice.”
“That’s not the issue.”, he responds flatly , although you could see the faint red creeping behind his neck.
“It is to me.”, you breath out under his ear.
He exhales sharply, already shifting your arm over his shoulders, securing you properly. You, meanwhile, are having an entirely different experience.
“You always this strong?” you mumble, fingers bunching slightly into his shirt, breath fanning over his neck.
“Focus on walking.”
“I am focusing. On you.”
“Walk.”
You could tell he was nearing the end of his restraint. “Easy”, he says, lower now, hands gripping at your waist tighter.
You laughed softly, which immediately turned into a wince. Your head dropped briefly against his shoulder as he guided you through the crowd.
“Missed you,” you murmur, words slurring just slightly.
god you were gonna be the death of him
You grin lazily, pleased with yourself for reasons that will not hold up tomorrow. The outside air hits you and you inhale like it’s salvation. you lean harder into him, practically hanging off his arm now.
“Tired,” you mumble.
“I know love.”
His hand shifts at your waist, thumb pressing lightly, keeping you steady as you wobble again.
You let him guide you down into the seat, your movements slow and uncoordinated. You nearly miss the seat entirely, but his hand at your waist corrects it instantly.
“Careful,” he mutters.
you sigh as you feel the relief of the cool leather against your skin and the smell of his faint cologne.
God.
Was it the alcohol or pent up frustration- you couldn't tell, but something was definitely feeling wet down there.
Simon slid into the car after you," right, you feeling better ?"
"i'm feeling more than better you know...", you say eyeing him up and down, fingers grazing his bicep.
"god, love..", He huffs something that might be a suppressed laugh. Might. Hard to tell.
You reach up slightly, fingers brushing clumsily against his jaw.
“We should do something about that", you say ,gesturing to his now evident arousal.
His hand catches your wrist gently but firmly before you can fully commit to whatever that was.
“Not right now.”
“Please”, you breath out ,trying to get closer to him in the cramped space.
adeline's note: i hope u like this one guys TT , its been in my drafts for SO LONGG. lowkey wanna write fic with jjk characters but i feel like people won't really be interested in those considering my main expertise is with simon lol. SO PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YALL WANT THAT. -xoxo
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne.
Synopsis: They are having a heated argument.
DICK GRAYSON
When his parents died, he grieved for a while, but eventually, he just... kept going. No regrets, no looking back.
He always managed to move on from bad things.
Or at least, that’s what he told himself while stuffing the candy you’d bought together onto the highest shelves — shoved all the way to the back where you wouldn’t notice them, even if you tried to reach.
That way, you’d have no choice but to talk to him.
He’d already lost count of how long you’d been ignoring him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t stand sleeping alone.
Not again.
After the fight, he’d said maybe the two of you should take a breather. Cool off before things got worse.
So when he came back later, apology already rehearsed in his head, breakfast tray balanced carefully in his hands, he walked into the bedroom almost excited.
What Dick hadn’t expected was for you to take his words that seriously.
When he said take a breather, he meant maybe thirty minutes. An hour, tops. Just enough time to calm down before saying something unforgivable.
Not... whatever this was.
Not you refusing to talk to him altogether. Not sleeping on opposite sides of the bed. Not acting like the two of you were suddenly strangers trying to rethink your entire relationship.
The breakfast went untouched.
So did the small pout on his face.
You didn’t even let him sit beside you when he tried to talk.
He ended up sleeping on the couch.
The next day was fucking miserable. His mood was awful, and everyone in the manor could feel it hanging in the air.
Grayson didn’t act like this. Even with his half-assed “I’m fine,” it was obvious he was anything but.
And when he finally got back to the apartment that night, exhausted and emotionally wrung out, he went straight for the bed, practically collapsing on top of you like he needed the contact to survive.
You pushed at him weakly, nowhere near as firmly as you had the past few days.
He let out this quiet, bitter little laugh but still refused to let go.
“Baby, stop,” he mumbled softly.
Even when you tried to shove him off again, he just held you tighter, burying his face against your neck like he was starving for you.
“Please,” he whispered, completely drained.
JASON TODD
Jason could be such a fucking asshole sometimes — selfish, cold, always running his mouth before thinking twice. It was easier for him to let people hate him than let them get close enough to actually understand him.
Not that he acted that way around kids or women. Around them, he kept himself restrained. Distant. But the second he felt cornered — exposed in any way — those sharp looks and cruel words came out like second nature.
A defense mechanism. The only one he’d ever really had.
You knew that.
You knew about his mother leaving him behind like he was nothing. Knew how, for one brief moment, Bruce Wayne had made him feel wanted — safe — only for Jason to end up feeling abandoned all over again.
Trust didn’t come easy to him. Neither did vulnerability. Loving you probably scared the hell out of him.
So instead of fighting back, you swallowed the hurt along with your pride. You waved your hand dismissively, avoiding his eyes as you muttered a quiet, “Forget it,” before turning around and walking away.
And somehow, that felt worse.
Jason swallowed thickly as he watched you leave.
You didn’t yell at him.
Didn’t demand an apology.
Didn’t ask him to take back a single thing he’d said.
You just… left.
Like you were tired.
After everything he’d thrown at you, all you wanted was for him to forget it.
But he couldn’t.
Because after that, something changed.
You still talked to him. Still answered when he spoke. But there was distance in you now — something careful, almost detached — and Jason noticed every second of it.
It made his chest ache.
And, if he was being honest, it scared him enough to make him paranoid.
TIM DRAKE
This time, the fight started over something stupid.
You’d turned off Tim’s alarm so he could finally rest on his day off. In your head, it was a small act of care — something gentle.
Tim didn’t see it that way.
He had deadlines, reports, a million things waiting for him, and when he woke up hours later, disoriented and exhausted, the soft good morning kisses you pressed against his face quickly turned into frustration.
“No, because this isn’t about whether I should rest or not,” he snapped, shoving himself out of bed. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to interfere with my work. You don’t get to decide when I stop.”
You frowned, trying not to react to the sharpness in his voice. “Tim, you hadn’t slept in two days.”
“Yeah? And just because you don’t have the same responsibilities I do doesn’t mean you get to make choices for me.”
The words hit harder than he intended.
Your expression changed immediately. Hurt. Shocked.
“Tim.”
But he was already too angry, too exhausted, too worked up to stop himself.
“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
And after that, neither of you were exactly kind to each other.
The argument ended with Tim slamming the front door hard enough to shake the walls.
The second he got into the car, regret settled heavy in his chest.
Because Tim overthought everything.
Every failed relationship. Every mistake. Every moment where he’d been too distant, too busy, too emotionally unavailable. The thought looped endlessly in his head until he felt sick with it.
You’re ruining this too.
You’re going to lose them too.
By the time he sat down in front of his computer, he couldn’t focus on a single thing. His leg bounced anxiously under the desk while his mind tortured him with scenario after scenario of you getting tired of him. Leaving him. Finding someone softer. Easier to love.
Someone better.
The anger faded quickly, leaving behind only exhaustion and this horrible, crushing sadness.
So when he finally came home hours later, all that was left of his pride was exhaustion.
Quietly, almost nervously, Tim slipped into bed beside you.
He turned toward you carefully, watching your face in the dim light for a second with this small, hopeful look in his eyes. Like maybe if he stayed close enough, you’d roll over and pull him into your arms. Maybe you could both pretend the fight never happened until morning.
But you didn’t move.
You just turned your back to him.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably cold.
Tim bit down hard on his lip the second he felt tears gathering in his eyes, embarrassed by how fast they came. Still, he couldn’t stop them. They slid silently down his cheeks while he stared at your back, trying not to make a sound.
When you still didn’t turn around, the quiet sniffles eventually broke into shaky, uneven crying.
Because that was the moment it really hit him.
You weren’t going to comfort him this time.
Please.
Please kiss his swollen eyes and tell him you’re still here.
DAMIAN WAYNE
To everyone’s surprise, Damian Wayne was actually a good boyfriend.
It sounded absurd to anyone who only knew him from a distance. With the way he carried himself — sharp tongue, permanent scowl, an attitude that pushed people away before they could even try getting close — nobody expected him to be soft with someone he loved.
But he was.
Painfully so.
Damian was romantic in a way that caught you off guard. Quietly sentimental. The kind who noticed insignificant details you'd mentioned months before.
There was something unbearably delicate hidden beneath all that hostility.
And little by little, you had managed to reach it.
You peeled back every layer he tried so desperately to hide behind until you finally touched the vulnerable parts of him nobody else got to see.
At first, it felt like a victory.
Like warmth blooming inside your chest.
Being trusted by Damian Wayne felt sacred. Intimate. You thought you understood him now — the things he feared, the things he buried, the things he struggled to say out loud.
You were wrong.
Because somehow, Damian always found a way to shut you back out again.
One wrong moment, one careless outburst, and suddenly every wall you thought you’d broken down was standing taller than before.
You pressed your lips together tightly, forcing yourself not to say something impulsive.
The silence in his bedroom felt horrible.
Cold.
Suffocating.
“What’s wrong, Damian?”
He didn’t answer.
“Damian,” you tried again, irritation slipping into your voice this time.
The entire day had been fine. More than fine, actually. He’d left his classes early just to spend time with you. You’d gone out to eat together, watched a movie back at the manor, stayed curled up against each other for hours.
And then suddenly he changed.
Short answers.
Dismissive looks.
Ignoring you whenever you spoke.
The worst part was that he’d done it in front of your friends.
Having your boyfriend act cold and irritated toward you in front of your classmates was humiliating.
“I already told you. Nothing.”
“Then why are you talking to me like this?” you asked, frustration finally bubbling over. “If something upset you, how am I supposed to fix it if you won’t talk to me? We’re together, Damian. We’re supposed to work things out.”
He laughed quietly under his breath, but there was nothing amused about it.
“God, you’re irritating.”
You stared at him silently.
And there it was again.
That look.
Distant. Closed off. Like he’d shoved you outside the walls all over again.
“Do you genuinely believe something is wrong with me?” he asked mockingly. “I have far more important matters to deal with.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“Fine.”
The second the word left your mouth, Damian hesitated.
Barely.
But you noticed it.
“What?” you asked flatly.
You grabbed your backpack from the floor and walked toward the door of his room.
Damian watched you the entire time without speaking.
Because what was he supposed to say?
That he hated how your friends interrupted the date the second things started feeling intimate? That it bothered him watching you laugh with them while he sat there feeling invisible? That he’d wanted your attention to himself for once?
It was supposed to be his time with you.
His moment.
The bedroom door shut softly behind you.
And suddenly the room felt unbearably empty.
Damian sat down at the edge of the bed slowly, his chest tightening with every passing second until it became difficult to breathe. His eyes burned.
You hadn’t even tried to stop him from pushing you away this time.
You just left.
Eventually, he collapsed face-first onto the mattress, burying himself beneath the blankets like hiding would somehow make the ache in his chest disappear.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there.
Minutes.
Maybe hours.
At some point, he grabbed his phone.
Your chat was still open.
Damian stared at your contact silently while his thumb hovered over the call button. His stomach twisted painfully with nerves.
Call them.
Don’t call them.
Call them.
Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the button.
The ringing nearly made him sick.
Once.
Twice.
By the third ring, you answered.
“Hello?”
Damian froze.
Your voice was soft. Careful.
And suddenly, all at once, the anger drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but this awful ache in his chest.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Because right then, curled up alone in his bed with tears stinging his eyes, Damian could only think one thing:
Who was he without you?
BRUCE WAYNE
Why are you arguing with this man? Leave the old man alone; he has enough problems already.
• I admit it, I just wanted to write about Tim being a whiny crybaby. oc tim (?
Also, as you know, I don't speak English and it's translated thanks to technology :) I've had this in drafts for months ()
That’s always been true, in height, in width, in the way his body seems to swallow yours whenever he pulls you close. But nothing compares to the moment he pushes inside you. When your legs are spread wide around his hips, breathing already shaky as he slowly sinks into you. He’s thick, long, and so deep that the moment he bottoms out, your eyes flutter shut.
“Look down, baby,” he whispers, voice low and rough. One of his big hands presses gently on your lower belly. “Watch.” You look.
There it is — a visible bulge in your stomach, rising every time he thrusts forward. The shape of him is unmistakable under your skin, pressing outward with every slow, deep roll of his hips. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes fixed on the sight. “Look at that… I’m so deep inside you I can see myself.”
He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, slower this time, watching the bulge move with him. You whimper at the overwhelming fullness, your hand instinctively reaching down to feel it. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock through your own skin, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, pressing his hand over yours so you’re both feeling it together. “That’s me, baby. That’s how deep I am. How big I am inside this tight pussy.”
He starts moving faster, hips snapping forward with controlled power. The bulge becomes more pronounced, rising and falling with every thrust. You’re gasping, moaning, completely overwhelmed by the sight and the feeling of being so utterly filled by him. He leans down, forehead pressed to yours, still watching the way his dick moves inside you.
“So fucking pretty,” he breathes. “My dick making your tummy bulge like this… You were made for me.”
When you come, it’s with his hand still pressed over the bulge, feeling every pulse as your body squeezes around him. He follows right after, groaning deeply as he spills inside you, hips grinding slow and deep so you feel every throb. He stays buried in you afterward, hand gently stroking over the slight swell in your stomach, kissing you softly.
“Love seeing that,” he whispers against your lips. “Love knowing how deep I am when I’m inside you.”
first time sex with boyfriend!clark, inspired by the bed breaking scene in twilight.
no use of y/n
warnings: MDNI, smut, protected p!v sexual intercourse, mating press (can't stop wont stop), soft smut, planned first time sex, bed breaking, clark's accidental immobilization of reader,, rough sex, overall awkwardness.
pairing: long-term boyfriend!clark x girlfriend!reader
summary: you'd been officially dating clark kent since the senior formal at smallville high, but you've been inlove with him since you found out what love was. after countless trials and tribulations, targeted attacks due to your boyfriends... extraterrestrial abilites, you are finally going to fuck your beautiful boyfriend!
You can't recall a time in your life where you had sweat this much. The baby hairs on your forehead feel like they've been merged to the soft skin of your forehead like glue.
With your heartbeat going a thousand miles a minute, you are almost a hundred percent sure that if you glanced down at your chest, you would be able to physically see your beloved organ thumping in and out of your skin like a cartoon.
Soft groans leave your lips as you continue your mental and physical exertion. You glance over your apartment for the umpteenth time tonight, the soft glow or ten or so candles illuminating your space.
You take a deep breath in, the warm and comforting scent of vanilla and lemon drift through the air, tickling your senses. But having no amenity to your shaky nerves and sweaty palms.
It was meant to make the scene romantic, calming, so far it was doing an absolutely terrible job.
Off reflex, your eyes shift to the dusted-circular vintage styled clock that rests just above the crinkled cream paint of your wall.
The time 8:27 registers in your mind as you squint to read it, your mind recognizes that your boyfriend should grace the frame of your front door any minute now.
Almost as if on key, the familiar sound turning and clicking of the metal keyhole, bounces off the drywall of your living room. This is what you’ve been waiting for.
He’s home.
You watch as the door shoots open, all 6 feet and 4 inches of your beloved corn-fed farmalien farmboy stand in your shared doorway.
He stands and stares at you, hand still on his key in the door, as his eyes slowly register your figure in front of him.
As you stand in the middle of your living room, all shaved, and lathered in your favourite body oils and lotions, wearing the nightgown you had bought as a gag. The thin midnight blue colored silk, sit gracefully on your skin.
The now well-known sign for hope, placed just above your right breast.
Your nipples peak through the material in excitement of the anticipated events of tonight.
He only ever bought you the nightgown because it felt like a little joke between you too. But now, as he stands in the door way, frozen at the sight of you, accidentally squeezing the key in his hand into nothing but a metal rod with his bare hands, he curses himself. He curses the version of himself that just so happened to wander into the mall on an extra long lunch break. The version of himself who caught the familiar crest out of the corner of his eye and thought,
“Huh… maybe she’d like this.”
Because if it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t be standing in front of you, slack jawed, like an idiot. With a raging hard on at the sight of you.
Your eyes drift away from his shocked facial expression, down to the crushed key in his bare hand, then lower, to the ever so prominent bulge in his khaki colored “reporter pants.”
Your audible “gulp” is what breaks the silence between the two of you, for you at least. Clark heard your wet heat slide against the matching blue lace panties you chose to wear, when you glanced down at his pants.
He had never heard something so profound before, he didn’t even know he could do that. He decides to make a mental note for later, to focus on the sound of his co-
“Y-yeah?” He tries, his voice coming out to quiet on his first attempt, obviously because of you.
You shift on your feet before addressing him again, taking just a moment to push down the thoughts of fear that swarmed in your mind like a heavy blizzard.
“Are you gonna come inside or just stand there?” you say the words carefully, a quiet fear festers deep in your mind that he might superspeed away the next time you blink.
“Ah- yes, yeah im, yeah of course”
He takes a moment before responding, then shakes his head at himself once he realizes how silly he must look right now.
This isn't like the two of you.
Well it is like him to be skittish and awkward but it's not like you. You too had a cycle, he would be his normal awkward clumsy farm raised self, and you’d tease him for it.
You wish that you could find it in yourself to crack this sexual tension with a joke. But everytime you try to will your mind towards forming an actual thought, your eyes drfit back down to your Clarks… area. Leaving you speechless.
You had seen it before, of course you had. Like just last week when an artificially intelligent supervillain beat Clark half way into the ground, just when the sun set.
You can still feel the void of fear that burrowed in your heart at the sight of your superman, bleeding into your new cream colored carpet. And of course you had seen it when the lust eventually overtook the both of you, encouraging you to parktake in… other things.
Not sex though, never sex. Until tonight that is.
You slowly moved towards your boyfriend until your chests were touching, and you could feel his rock hard chest against your peaked breasts. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you crane you head up a little, to gaze into those deep blue eyes of his. The only thing that has succeeded for the past something-teen years, in consistently calming your nerves.
You’d always found comfort in Clark. The hint of fresh wheat, layered under a sea of cedarwood sent that had followed him around since primary school. Or the way his eyes bored into yours now, like it looked hard enough, he could see into your mind and reveal what thoughts bubbled in your head.
Taking a deep breath in, you feel the calm that you only ever feel with him. Whether they were calming you before your first fourth grade clarinet assembly, or breathing air into your lungs before you propose your next wild story to your boss. Whatever it was, you would be fine, because you had Clark, your Clark.
“Are you still sure about this? Because I'm not sure I know how to control my powers during uh, I could hurt you.” He speaks in the same tone you spoke to him in earlier, like he’s scared he’ll scare you away. Your thighs subconsciously clench at the thought of being able to make Clark feel so good, he’s unable to control himself.
Now it's your turn to calm him down.
“Clark?”
He sighs before replying, feeling his fears now more than ever. “Yeah?”
“We’ll be fine, you won't hurt me. We've dealt with worse than this.” You joke, feeling his tightly wound muscles release some tension under your soft fingertips.
Clark brings his hand up under your chin, tilting it up towards him at the same he just barely leans over to connect your lips.
You sigh into him, the taste of coffee and a a Clark Kent flood your senses as the two of you try to remove each other's clothes, without disconnecting from each other.
Your mind feels like mush by the time you feel him back you up into the wall, kissing you deeper now, both of his large hands gracing the sides of your jaw.
By the time you blindly stumble into your bedroom, knocking over several items on your way, you are finally out of air. Pulling your face away from Clarks, to pull as much air into your lungs as possible, you give his face a look over again. His lips are flushed with a pinky tint that bleeds into his neck, an effect tended to have on him whenever you kiss like this.
Clark takes this break as an opportunity to set you down horizontally on your shared bed, impatiently ripping the buttons off his shirt in order to remove it before moving to connect your lips again.
He glides his tongue along your bottom lip, silently asking for access which you grant him by opening your mouth a little wider.
He trails his mouth away from yours, planting messy, lusted kisses to the right corner of your mouth. He continues to travel, his mouth finding the sharp edge of your jaw, before moving over to the side of your neck, just beneath your ear.
Kissing and sucking repeatedly, with your mouth free of his, you moan and whimper into the open space of your bedroom.
The sounds encourage him to grind his clothed bulge over your pulsing, lace covered heat. He groans into the soft skin of your neck, the sensation feeling too good to withhold himself.
Forcing himself to pry his lips off of your neck, he lowers himself down to your lower body. Grabbing a hold of the flimsy fabric, pushing it up to your upper thighs, to reveal your matching underwear. He lets out a sound that is dangerously close to a whimper at the sight of you. Making you eager to see his face. When you drag yourself up to your elbows, giving you a good view of him, you carefully track his movements.
Watching as he hooks a thumb around the lacy fabric, the feeling of his finger against your sensitive skin causing you to shiver, he drags it down your freshly shaved legs.
The sight of your bare cunt rendered his thoughts void. Forgetting what he was here to do, brings his hands to either side, and uses his thumbs to stretch your lower lips. The action gives him a clear view of you, he lets out a sigh of admiration.
Bringing his head closer, he plants a soft kiss against your aching bud, before licking a stripe down your middle, collecting your liquids in the process.
“C-Clark!” his action calls you to call out.
You watch as he brings his face away from you to meet your gaze.
“I’ve waited long enough! take your pants off please” You dont even recognise your tone as the words fly out of your mouth.
Lightly chuckling to himself, Clark leans off of you and begins to lower his own pants.
You take the time to pull the nightgown completely over your head, leaving you completely naked. By the time you had undressed your self, clark had aswell.
Okay, here we go, this is happening, you think to yourself, eyes trained on the length that sprang against your boyfriend's stomach upon release.
You watch him roll the condom over the glistening tip, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him pick up a condom, let alone open one.
Both of his large arms brace his body on the sides of your head, leaning down close enough for his dick to skim along your inner thigh. Your hips squirm at the action, Clark brings a hand from the side of your head and uses it to line his tip up with your entrance.
“Can- hm, Can I?” He asks, tone stumbling as he tries to get the words out.
Unable to speak, you nod quickly as a reply, eyes focused on the crinkle that forms when he draws his eyebrows together in seriousness.
You feel the stretch before anything else, the feeling causing you to wince. Upon hearing your discomfort, Clark stops immediately, dragging his gaze away from where you are connected and up to your eyes.
“Does that hurt? Should I stop?” His worried tone matching his equally worried expression as he speaks to you.
“No don’t, don’t stop” You squirm at the odd sensation, unsure as to why you feel like you need him to keep going, if the action was causing you pain.
Listening to you, he continues to push deeper inside of you, until the majority of his cock is buried in your warmth. The connection causes a strangled noise to leave both of you in synchronization.
“I’m gonna move now, is- are you-“
“Yeah, yes, please start moving baby” The words leave your mouth in a strangled plea and Clark obliges. Beginning to set a steady pace of moving his abnormally long length, in and out of you.
The once painful sensation quickly shifts into a pleasurable one. In response to this, your body squeezes Clark impossibly deeper inside of you.
Bringing his mouth up to kiss yours, Clark is interrupted by a moan that leaves him without his permission, the combined feelings overwhelming him.
“Fuckkk” He moans into your open mouth, burying his head in your neck as his thrust increases in pace.
Clark halts his movements, shifting the two of you into a new position. Before you can question, your knees are up to your chest and he is buried even deeper in you.
The new feeling causes you to moan loudly into his ear, with his cock moving in and out of you at an even faster rate and his base grinding against your sensitive bud, the combined sensations render your thoughts useless.
“you’re, really tight hnghh g-gosh…” he moans deeply into your skin
You couldn’t do anything if you wanted to. You've lost most feeling in your legs, because of his sheer body weight repeatedly crushing into you. Hitting so deep inside you, leaving you unable to form a sentence.
Shifting again, Clark grips the wooden pole bedframe, an attempt to stabilize himself. In his efforts, the bed crumbles on top of the both of you. Even then, his pace doesn’t let up for a second, just shifts. His large muscular frame protects you from debris, while also trapping you under his mercy.
“I- Shit, something- fuck somethings happening. I can’t” his tone worried once again, but his movements show no signs of stopping.
“it’s o-okay, you can come, I… I think i’m close too” You cut yourself off with a loud, pornographic moan, something you were sure you’d be embarrassed about if you could think right now.
Clark realizes that you don’t understand, and he isn’t sure how to tell you about the recognizable heat that is building behind his eyes as his climax approaches. He knows it’s coming, and he knows he should stop. He’ll, he should’ve stopped when the bed came down on both of you, but he can’t”
Pumping into you over and over, hitting that same spot inside you that makes you cry out, you feel yourself bubble over the edge. Crying out as you reach your climax, dragging Clark along with you.
Only this time is different, he’s never felt it like this. His heat vision continues to approach with his release, involuntarily shooting out his eyes as he releases his load into you. His hand shoots up to cover the flame releasing from him, vision obscured with a red heat haze and his hand, his heat vision flashing into his hand for the entire duration of his high.
He whimpers and groans in both pleasure and pain, just barely managing to shield you from the heat of his eyes. After his peak, he squeezes his eyes back shut, bringing both his pain and pleasure to a halt.
Both of you breathe heavily into the other, in disbelief of the events that just occurred. Not exactly how you had imagined it but you still wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Did… did you just?” Your broken voice breaks the silence first.
Clark remains frozen, mortification from his lack of control and the fear of hurting you flood back into his mind as the sex haze over his mind lifts.
On instinct, he raises himself off of you, too quickly. The speed of which he removes himself from you causes a whimper to leave your lips, another thing he curses himself for.
“I am so sorry baby, I don’t, I didn’t even-“ He speaks hurriedly as he rolls the condom off of himself and throws it in the trash. You curl into yourself, weirdly unable to move your legs.
You groaned in response to his apology, you had meant to tell him that what had just happened was the best experience of your life but, unfortunately you couldn’t form that sentence.
Ever so carefully, he brings his hands underneath your knees and neck, slowly lifting you from the broken mess that used to be your bed. Nuzzling into his strong naked shoulder, you blink, and you're in your bathroom.
Dimly lit by candles you had set earlier, you wince as he sets you down on the side of your tub wall, the cold metal feeling uncomfortable on your sticky thighs.
“Clark..” you speak slowly
“Yeah baby?” he over at you from where his head is poked under your bathroom sink, gathering materials to clean you up.
“I cant even move my legs right now” You say with an undertone of amusement in your voice.
The two of you erupt in a soft fit of giggles as you both glance back into your bedroom, the room completely wrecked. Clark moves over to you, kneeling in between your thighs, resting both his hands on opposite sides of your knees.
“Okay seriously, did I hurt you?” He says, doing that thing he always does, looking through your eyes into your thoughts.
“Clark, that was…” you trail off, recapping the events of the night. Leaving your boyfriend in nervous anticipation. “It was?” he asks shakily, in fear that you’ll finally decide dating an alien is too weird for you.
“Fucking amazing, Clark.” You say with a soft laugh.
The corner of his lips tilt up in that familiar dorky little smile that you know so well. “Always so crude…” he says to himself, slowly beginning to clean the liquids off your inner thighs.
Dating Clark isn’t perfect, and it never will be. But you know two things for sure. Number one, is that Clark Kent, Kal-el, Superman, whoever he is… Is your forever.
The second thing you know for sure is, you definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT, I DEEPLY APPRECIATE IT. FOLLOW FOR MORE.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
All films (drabbles & oneshots) produced by kamiflix from 12/10/25 to now can be found here! If you'd like to be permanently tagged for a certain character (or multiple characters, everything, etc) please let me know here. [MDNI]
˗ˏˋ MULTI CHARACTER FILMS
︎▶︎ Needy (headcanons / oneshot)
What happens when you come home late and they’re needy.
︎▶︎ Seven — Explixit Vers. (headcanons / oneshot)
JJK men fuckin' you right on Valentine’s day night.
You’re the neighborhood babysitter who’s caught the attention of the neighborhood's hottest dilfs. When Toji can’t afford to pay you, Jin steps in to save the day with an offer that pulls all three of you together for a night.
︎▶︎ Fire In My Heart (ft. nanami & higuruma) (oneshot — 19.8k wc)
What happens when the man you fell for during a vacation trip abroad turns out to be your arranged fiancé’s best friend? A mess of tugged heart strings, horribly convoluted emotions, and a whole lotta’ fornication—of which none of you knew how to manage.
In which you sign up for this specialized annual program called Sex With a Monster (S.W.A.M. for short). Only a select few get chosen to participate in varying breeding tests & experiments with—you guessed it—monsters! And after years of applying, you finally get accepted into the program. Only to find that it’s not exactly what you were expecting...
Your new boyfriend realizes you're quite the strange woman.
▶︎ WGFT (ft. gojo & sukuna) (short)
SukuGo but you’re getting fucked in between them while they argue.
˗ˏˋ GOJO SATORU’S FILMS
▶︎ Nasty (short)
Going over “simple physics” with your annoying fratboy tutee.
▶︎ P*ssy is the meanest (short)
Finding out your fratboy fwb is into being slapped and dominated.
▶︎ AITA for fucking both of the Gojo twins? (oneshot — 11.4k wc)
In which you get fed up with Sato (fratjo) for playing around with you and unintentionally get involved with his identical twin brother Toru (nerdjo), not knowing they’re simply two sides of the same coin.
▶︎ WIBTA for fucking the Gojo twins again? (oneshot — 10.8k wc)
After losing your precious attention to his dorkier twin brother Toru (nerdjo), Sato (fratjo) decides to take matters into his own hands by corrupting his brother into being more like him. Unfortunately for him, Toru’s too strong willed to fall for his tricks and Sato ends up being the one with quite the personality switch by the end of the night. (pt. 2 of the fic above this)
▶︎ Make Me Tweak (short)
Moaning the wrong name during sex with your husband.
▶︎ Want You (short)
Nerdjo getting turned on by bimbo!reader's harmless teasing in the middle of putting together a puzzle.
˗ˏˋ GETO SUGURU’S FILMS
▶︎ Luv Punnani (short)
Your boyfriend gives you a “pussy inspection”
▶︎ Talk Dirty (short)
Something tells you your pervy friend with benefits might just have a voice kink…
˗ˏˋ SUKUNA RYOMEN’S FILMS
▶︎︎ Morning Dew (short)
Domestic morning sex in the kitchen with your grumpy husband.
▶︎︎ First Time? (oneshot — 10.5k wc)
When you get paired with your campus frat’s resident asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin! Nor did you expect to be the one to change that.
▶︎︎ Husband!Sukuna who… (short) (headcanon)
▶︎︎ The Summoning (oneshot — 9.1k wc)
In which you finally achieve your dream of meeting a ghost and fulfill your fantasy of fucking a monster as you meet Sukuna Ryomen—who just so happens to be the perfect mix of both!
▶︎︎ Make You C*m (short) (true form!sukuna)
Getting cumdrunk on the king of curses and slapping him for more.
▶︎︎ PTDIMS (short)
Moaning the wrong name during sex (on purpose) with your husband.
˗ˏˋ TOJI FUSHIGURO’S FILMS
▶︎︎︎︎ A Nonsense Christmas (short)
Letting Santa give your mouth a white Christmas.
▶︎︎︎︎ Speechless (oneshot — 8.7k wc)
In which your annoyingly dense roommate catches you moaning his name in the shower and finally does something about it.
▶︎︎︎ Bouncing up and down your personal trainer!toji's cock (short) (headcanon)
▶︎︎︎ Fever (oneshot — 7.3k wc)
In which the overwhelming heat in your apartment sends you and your perverted roommate into a different kind of heat.
˗ˏˋ CHOSO KAMO’S FILMS
▶︎︎︎︎ Plug!Choso who… (headcanons)
▶︎ Wicked Games (oneshot — 9.2k wc)
In which you have the Kamo twins wrapped around your pretty finger. You tell them that you’re not theirs—not officially—and for a time, it works out. Choso (nerdcho) was your sweetheart of a project partner who was steadily falling for you and Kaiso (fratcho) was the younger twin who finds your side at every party you attend. What could possibly go wrong with two brothers who had no idea they were sharing the same girl?
▶︎ High For This (oneshot — 8.9k wc)
In which you’re best friend's with both your favorite emo fratboy and the campus plug. So when you make an offhand comment while under the influence one night that no guy has ever made you cum, he takes it upon himself to challenge that.
▶︎ Pervy!choso who… (short) (headcanon)
▶︎ 34+35 (oneshot — 11k wc)
In which it takes a total of sixty nine days of living with Choso for the two of you to realize you’re both terribly down bad for one another. He’d been crushing on you hard (pun intended) from the day you moved in with him, and while living with you is easy, being around you almost all day every day like this is turning him into someone he can't recognize. So much so that you should be concerned. Except, you're not?
