#virgin!reader

୨୧ pairings — clark kent x virgin!reader ୨୧ content — virginity loss, piv sex, size difference, soft dom clark ୨୧ wc — 841 requests open! check out my navigation for request guidelines and masterlist.

“s’not gonna fit, clark…” you whined as you laid on clark’s bed- the plush mattress cradling your naked body. you stared down at where clark kneeled between your legs- his cock in his hand.

he was a big man in every sense of the word- his broad shoulders that took up the elevator when you two rode it together, his large hands that seemed to envelope yours- and his cock.

his length was hard and heavy in his palm- you could barely fit your hand around the base, no way it would fit inside. his tip leaked as you stared at it. where he hid his eagerness in his expression, it showed in how his cock twitched as his eyes graze over your body.

“it’ll fit, sweetheart.” he assures, his free hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “made sure of it- got you all soaked n’ ready for me.” he coos, leaning over you now. his thumb presses against your bottom lip that had turned down in a pout- as if trying to wipe away the expression. “i’d never hurt you on purpose.” he promises.

you draw in a breath and nod, legs spreading a little wider to make room for him. he settles in between your legs, his eyes darting between your bodies and your face.

“just- tell me if anything feels wrong, okay? we can stop anytime okay honey?” he hums, his voice a soft comforting tone. you nod again, your heart thumping in your chest so hard you hear it in your ears.

you whimper when clark guides his tip in, the fat head disappearing into your weeping hole. clark kisses your lips gently. “jus' the head, baby- s'okay.” he says.

with one hand braced beside your head while the other grips his cock, he strokes his shaft a few times before he lines himself up with your weeping cunt.

"oh my-" he chokes out at the first brush of his tip against you—hot and slick and perfect. his hips jerk instinctively (can’t help it), dragging a broken whimper from you as he sinks in slow, muscles trembling with the effort not to just ruin you in one thrust.

the stretch is brutal- you could barely hear clark’s praises over the blood rushing in your ears and the intense sting of his cock splitting you open. your nails leave crescent shaped indents in his biceps. it was almost overwhelming- almost made you want to call it quits.

till you feel clark’s rough fingers circle your clit gently- a jolt of pleasure running up your spine. he kisses your lips a bit deeper now, swallowing every whine you let out. he pulls away to watch you, his dark eyes flickering with adoration. "breathe, pretty girl." he says when he realizes you were holding your breath. you let out a long shaky breath, head feeling hazy. "that's my girl." he praises.

you feel the head of his cock brush your cervix and you let out an extra loud whine, squirming slightly. “oh- ah- sorry, darling.” he murmurs, shuddering slightly. he looks down between you, panting slightly from the restraint.

“that’s as far as i can go.” he says softly, his cock pulsing slightly. “i’ll stay like this for a sec, yeah? tell me when to move. you’re doing so good.” he praises, stilling inside you so you could get used to the stretch. he peppers kisses over your face, so patient and so gentle.

he kisses the tip of your nose when you let out a strangled whimper. "i know baby, i know." he coos. "m'so proud of you, sweetheart- taking me so well." he praises, his large hand running up your side.

forehead dropping against yours, breath ragged: "you feel... gosh, ah—" his voice cracks, hips stuttering when you clench around him.

your chest rises and falls with each shaky breath and clark kisses away tears you didn’t even know you shed. “so perfect for me, sweetheart- takin’ me so good.” he hums, thumb brushing away the tears on your reddened cheeks.

you swallow thickly, feeling the stinging pain dissipate until all that’s left is the delicious fullness. you let out a soft breath- tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip. “y-you can move.” you nod.

his thrusts are slow and measured- like all he's focused on is making sure he doesn’t break you. his hips stutter slightly at one point, his head kissing your cervix again. you let out a ragged moan, eyes shut, lips parted.

"open your eyes, sweet thing." he hums. kissing your parted lips gently. when you do, you see a gentle smile on his face. this wasn't the smile he used for when he saves civilians from danger, or for strangers on the street, not even for his closest friends- this was for you. an expression of pure adoration and devotion.

that night, when you're fast asleep on his chest- clark just stares. if everything else fails, clark knows one thing for sure;

you were made for him.

One-Night Stand ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

AO3 | Masterlist

DESC: Joel takes you home from the bar and pops your cherry ♡

TAGS: No Outbreak, Sleazy!Joel, Innocent!Reader, Virgin!Reader, Virginity Loss, One-Night Stand, Age Gap (old!man Joel x young woman reader), smut obvi, pussy pronouns, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, accidental creampie, lil bit of fluff

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Joel was a sick man, he knew it. 

It was hard to give a damn when his years of loneliness had him walking around half-crazed at the sight of any pretty little thing that walked by him. He had his occasional hookups, but work had him so busy and so bone-tired, it was a rarity that he actually got laid at all. 

So when he had the seemingly one-in-a-lifetime to chase some tail, he took it. It was his night off, the first in what felt like a very long time. He went to his local dive bar, knowing he’d find exactly what he was looking for. The thick scent of tobacco smoke and late-night sleaze filled his lungs as he pushed through the door, breathing it in and sighing like it was fresh air. 

He spotted you almost immediately, your petite form sat stiffly on a barstool. You looked out of place, your pretty eyes darting around the room, your fingers gripping your drink a little too tight. Clearly, you weren’t used to being in seedy places like this. Joel also couldn’t help but notice how the men around you were looking, their eyes fixed on the way your dress rode up to expose your creamy thighs, just like he was. In a place like this, you were like a little bunny among a den of wolves. 

Despite being a particularly old and haggard wolf himself, he took it upon himself to be your protector, to shield you from these old perverts. It was the pot calling the kettle black. He sat down on the stool beside you, delighting in the way you almost flinched, looking over to him with wide eyes. 

You never went into bars, not really. Maybe once or twice with friends, but it really wasn’t your scene. This night, however, prompted a change in scenery. You felt so frustrated, tired of living a monotonous life that consisted only of school, work, and home. You didn’t have many friends, and your dating life was non-existent. You craved adventure, something that reversed the numbness you always felt- something that made you feel alive. 

You decided to go to the dive bar by your apartment, hoping maybe you’d find some adventure, maybe a little trouble- something new. Worst-case scenario- besides maybe being roofied or kidnapped or something- was you’d get wasted and call an uber home, which was only about seven or eight minutes away. Once you actually got inside and sat down for a drink, you began having second thoughts. Your determination had gotten you this far, but you were easily spooked. You knew you were being watched, the men across the room playing darts constantly eyeing you, some guys a few seats down at the bar were, too. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all- or so you’d thought. 

But then that tall, dark, and handsome older man sat beside you, and you began to feel like maybe this night would turn out alright. If he wasn’t a serial killer, that is. 

“Howdy,” his voice rumbled, hitting something just right inside you that made you almost visibly shiver. Your heartbeat raced, but no longer out of anxiety, but excitement. That vaguely familiar fluttery feeling you hadn’t felt in so long tickled at your insides. He was so hot, you could hardly believe he was real, sitting in front of you. He was wearing a worn flannel shirt, rolled up at the elbow to expose those veiny forearms dusted in hair, his hands big and rough and calloused. He wore a pair of Dickie’s jeans, the denim patchy, the knees faded from work. He was somewhere in his fifties, judging by his weathered skin and the crow’s feet. His eyes were sharp, though- a beautiful hazel with flecks of brown and green that reminded you of earth and soil and trees dappled with sunlight. His hair was dark and a bit unkempt, the wind having blown through it. His beard was scruffy, too, but it looked sexy, not messy. 

“Hi,” you murmured awkwardly, your shyness getting the best of you, as usual. You wanted to kick yourself- you could hardly look him in the eye without wanting to blush. The way he smiled at you, relaxed and lopsided, made your stomach twist with something feral. “Name's Joel," he introduced himself, "what brings ya here, all alone?” He asked after you told him your name. “Don’t seem like yer used to this kinda establishment.” 

“I’m not,” you admitted sheepishly, “is it that obvious?” Joel barked a laugh, a deep sound that came from his gut. “Sure is- you look scared as all hell, darlin’.” You actually blushed, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Sure, you weren’t going to bars every weekend, but you’d at least thought maybe it would look like you’ve been in one before. “I just wanted to let loose a little,” you said truthfully, “isn’t that what you’re here for?” He nodded. “I suppose it is.” The bartender slid him a glass of whiskey, to which Joel nodded his head in acknowledgement or gratitude- something between the two. He took a drink, his eyes never leaving you. Your leg crossed over the other, not minding the way his eye darted to the exposed skin. He set his glass down, fingers drumming on the counter. 

“You lookin’ for anything else?” He asked, his eyes questioning. The fluttering in your tummy intensified. “Yes,” you answered, hating how girlish you sounded. You were a grown woman, for God’s sake- you were allowed to be a flirt, show a man what you wanted. Despite your very awkward demeanor and your lack of flirting skills, he looked just about ready to pounce. Maybe he liked the whole shy and innocent vibe, which made you feel a little more confident. 

“Take me home?” The words left your mouth before you could really think them through, realizing maybe it was a little too forward. You weren’t sure how this worked- maybe you should’ve flirted more, danced around what you wanted, savored the anticipation, but you were feeling desperate. Your gaze had flicked down at the bulge in his jeans once, twice- maybe three times. 

“A bit bold of ya, ain’t it?” He snorted. “You really want me to take you home, doll?” You nodded, eager and desperate and too needy to care. He finished his drink and took you by the arm, leading you out to the parking lot where his rickety old Ford truck was parked. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you inside, then got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It was silent as you drove the backroads to his house, nothing but a few feet of road ahead of you visible, illuminated by his headlights. 

You watched him as he drove, humming along to the country song playing on the radio. He was so handsome, the wind blowing through his hair, the profile of his nose highlighted by the pale moonlight. You wanted so desperately to kiss him in that moment, but you didn’t want to be a distraction for him, so you simply folded your hands in your lap, anticipating what was to come. You’d never actually slept with anyone before, only fantasized, only knew what you wanted in theory. But something about this man made the dam break within you, your need suddenly overwhelming. 

When you got to his house, he quickly got out and went around to open your door, once again taking your hand in his to help you out of the truck. You blushed, unused to a man with manners. It was kind of sad, but a lot of men seemed to lack the whole gentleman vibe. You walked with him into his house, a two-story cabin with a well-trimmed lawn. It was almost picturesque- it made you feel at peace somehow as you stepped through the door. The inside was just as nice as the outside, looking like something out of a magazine- a lot less furnished, though, but you kind of liked it better that way. There were some mounts on the wall, a couple wood-carved figures and picture frames decorating the fireplace.

“You gonna keep snoopin’ around, or ya gonna come to the bedroom?” He asked with a smirk before turning and walking down the hall. You stood still, watching the way his ass moved in his jeans. Goddamn, you thought to yourself. You could tell he could feel your eyes on him because he started sauntering, giving you a show. You giggled and followed him- you were pretty sure you’d follow him anywhere at this point, walking the way he was. Your head was swimming with drink, just enough to loosen you up and lower your inhibitions. You felt bold, less timid than usual. 

You walked into his bedroom, taking in the king bed in the center of the room and the scent of cedarwood and something uniquely Joel. You playfully jumped onto the bed, earning a chuckle from him as he followed suit, his weight making the mattress dip beneath him. You blushed as he crawled over you, the urge to hide your face behind your hands overwhelming. Now that you were in his bed with his hands pressed on either side of you, caging you in with his much larger body, the shyness that the alcohol suppressed came back in full force. 

“Whas’wrong?” He asked teasingly, but his eyes softened with concern. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his calloused thumb tracing the gentle slope of your jaw. “Nothing… I guess it’s just setting in- that I’m really doing this.” You murmured softly. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he murmured in response, his big palm cupping your cheek. He was so gentle, nurturing in a way you weren’t used to. It stirred up such conflicting feelings- it made you want to cry, but at the same time you felt that familiar pull between your legs that told you of your desires, that you truly wanted this, wanted him. 

“I want to,” you urged, your small hands curling into the fabric of his flannel, “I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never…” you trail off, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His eyes widened a fraction, perplexed by your confession. “Oh,” he said, and nothing else. You got worried after a few moments of silence passed. “Is that bad?” You asked, scared he’d back off, take you straight home and leave you unsatisfied. 

“Naw, it ain’t bad- just… surprised me.” He said as he rubbed a hand over his face. “You sure you wanna do this with me? M’twice your age, darlin’- n’ I… I’ve been around.” You smile, amused by his insecurity. If only he knew he was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Good. Means you’ll know how to make me feel good.” He groaned at that, his hands coming to grasp at your waist. “You don’t know what you’re sayin’ sweetheart- you don’t want an old dog like me ta ruin ya.” But as he spoke, his hands were sliding down to squeeze your hips. 

“Oh, but I do,” you hummed as your hands began to unbutton his flannel, wanting to see the weathered skin beneath. He let you, groaning as you slid it off his shoulders and down his arms before going back to greedily run your hands over his hairy, scarred chest. You thought he was the sexiest thing alive, practically drooling at the sight of his exposed flesh. He chuckled, low and gravelly, before kissing you breathless. He licked into your mouth, his hand firmly grasping your jaw and holding you in place. His other hand slid further down your hip to your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh. You mewled softly, the sound needy and impatient as you desperately wanted his touch to move just a few inches inward, to where you needed him most. He teased you, this thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh as he pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down to your neck. 

“Joel,” you whimpered. He only growled in response, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath your earlobe. The hand that was gripping your jaw slid down to push down the strap of your dress, revealing the lacey bra you were wearing in anticipation of this very moment. Your tummy fluttered with excitement as you helped him push your dress down to your waist, his hand reaching behind your back to skillfully unclasp your bra. You were slightly irritated that it only got a mere second of appreciation before being tossed across the room, but it was quickly forgotten because the rough pads of his hands were on you, fondling your breasts and flicking your nipples in a way that made you gasp. You never understood the appeal of nipple play, given you hadn't experienced it with a partner- and doing it to yourself was unexciting, to say the least. But this was different. 

You squirmed, arching your back, a soft gasp escaping your lips. “Like that, doll?” He chuckled as he looked at you with a satisfied smirk and those seductive lidded eyes, keeping eye contact as he brought his mouth to your left nipple, giving it a quick kiss before sucking it into his mouth. Your hands flew up to grasp at his hair, fingers tangling in his locks. He groaned when you curled your fingers and tugged. His other hand finally relented and slid right where you needed him, his thumb pressing right into your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. 

“Mm, so wet f’me baby,” he purred as he rubbed circles into you, making you mewl. Your head was spinning with liquor and molten want, your pussy throbbing against his hand. He noticed, moving his attention from your breast down your belly, pressing little kisses until his lips hit the fabric of your dress bunched around your hips. “Lift f’me,” he spoke gently as he grasped at the fabric, pulling your dress down and off your legs. His fingers bit into the meat of your thighs as he spread you open, dipping his head between them. He licked a broad stripe up your pussy, further dampening the fabric of your panties. He moaned at your scent, the way your puffy lips looked in the lacy fabric. Hooking a finger in the crotch of your panties, he pulled them aside to expose your sex. He dove in, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that left you gasping, your thighs clamping around his head. 

“Thas’ it, babydoll, squeeze those thighs ‘round me.” He groaned against your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth. You gasped, a soft moan tumbling from your lips as you moved on pure instinct, your hips bucking into his mouth. His hands kept a death-like grip on your thighs, sliding to your ass to push you impossibly closer to his probing tongue. “Joel-” You whined, frantic with your oncoming orgasm. 

“C’mon, you can do it- cum on my tongue, darlin’.” He urged, his voice desperate and ragged, like he needed it. That was all it took for you to snap, a sharp cry escaping you as your whole body seized up, thighs trembling as you came right where he wanted. He lapped up your arousal like a man dying of thirst, making your cheeks flush once you snapped out of your post-orgasm haze and realized what he was doing. “Stop, it’s dirty-!” You exclaimed. 

“You taste divine,” Joel said as he looked up at you, a lopsided smirk on his face. The sight of him, smiling up at you from between your legs, his beard wet with your arousal, was nearly enough to make you cum again. It seemed like he noticed, because he went right back to laving attention on your clit, slipping a finger into your tight hole. “Gimme another, baby, c’mon- gotta stretch this lil’ pussy out real good ‘fore I fuck you.” He groaned. Your pussy fluttered around his finger, greedily sucking him deep inside. “Yeah, thas’ it- she’s so hungry, ain’t she?” He pressed another finger inside, barely circling around your entrance before slowly pushing in. He was slow and gentle, wanting to ease you into it- to not overwhelm you. So far, you seemed pretty damn enthusiastic- you were sucking his fingers in so greedily, arching your back and moaning so beautifully, he could hardly stand it. It took everything in him not to stuff his cock inside you, to feel how tight you’d be around him. 

You choked out a moan as you helplessly came again, your breasts heaving with each labored breath, your legs twitching with the aftershocks. You didn’t expect him to start up again, curling his fingers to hit something inside you that made stars burst across your vision, slowly teasing a third digit in. “One more,” he begged, his voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, “can ya give me one more, baby?” You were shaking, your eyes stinging with tears as you drowned in the pleasure- it was too much. You must have said as much, because his hand came to soothingly massage your hip. 

“Just one more, baby,” he pleaded, “just need one more.” 

You couldn’t resist him, how utterly wrecked he sounded, how he seemed to need your release as much as you did. Your hands tugged roughly at his hair as a third orgasm rolled through you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out his name. You heard him growl, his teeth grazing at your clit, making you jolt helplessly. He licked you through your climax, groaning with pleasure and rutting his hips against the mattress. “So fuckin’ good for me,” he breathed, giving your pussy one last lick before he sat back on his heels. 

“Can’t wait no more,” he panted as he frantically grasped at his belt. He fumbled with the buckle, cursing under his breath before he finally yanked it off, unzipping the fly of his jeans and reaching into his briefs to pull out his hard cock. You’d never seen a dick before- not this close, at least- inches from your face, pulsing and weeping with primal need. You’d seen sex scenes in movies, watched porn late in the night under the covers, but this was surreal. He was big, and he was girthy, and god was he hairy. You drank in the sight of the perfect trail of hair that led down to the nest surrounding the base of him, and you felt the very perverted urge to lean in and press your nose against it, taking a deep inhale of his musk. 

“Like what ya see?” He teased, but something in his eyes flickered with uncertainty, like he was maybe worried you were overwhelmed, that this was too much for you. You hadn’t even heard him, staring like an idiot at his perfectly molded dick, watching the way it twitched with arousal. It was a very serious worry for you that you’d find your partner’s cock unattractive the first time you’d had sex- they just didn’t look very appealing dangling around from what you’d seen, but Joel’s was… beautiful. You nearly giggled at the thought, but you genuinely thought his dick was beautiful. 

“What?” He asked, his expression giving away his worry now. He saw your mouth twitch, suppressing a smile, and he hadn’t the faintest clue whether that was a good sign or a bad one. You let yourself smile, a shy but genuine one, your cheeks flushing. “I like it,” you admitted rather stupidly, but at least it was the truth. He paused for a moment, his hazel eyes staring at your face- searching, before he barked out a laugh. “You like it?” You laughed with him, nodding your head. 

“Mhm, I like it a lot.” You said, letting your desire seep into your voice. You weren’t sure if you sounded seductive, but you hoped you did. Either way, he seemed riled up by it, cursing softly to himself as he stroked himself. “Want you ta tell me if it hurts, okay baby?” He said as he positioned himself between your legs once again, his cock resting over your mound. He rubbed against you a few times, sighing in relief, before he was pulling aside the crotch of your panties once more. “You understand?” He asked, firmer this time. You nodded eagerly, watching with wide eyes as he swiped his tip through your folds, gently prodding at your entrance. 

“Don’t feel like ya gotta put up with anythin’ f’me- you feel uncomfortable, we stop. Tell me you understand, babydoll.” 

“I understand, Joel.” You whispered as you gently bit down on your lip. He eased himself inside you, gently spreading your thighs wider as he began to push in. A brief panic flooded through you, and he felt it- the way your body tensed, the way your chest began heaving again, but this time not with pleasure. “Breath f’me, sweetheart,” he cooed as he massaged your thigh, “relax as best you can.” You nodded, the sweetness in his voice easing your nerves a bit. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing slow circles that made you flutter around him as he pushed deeper. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. His reaction spurred you on, your slick walls beginning to suck him inside. He was definitely a stretch, the pressure a little uncomfortable but not painful- you were thankful he took his time to pleasure you first, get you prepared for him. “Thas’ it, baby- suck me in just like that.” He murmured, the hand that was massaging your thigh now gripping tight, like he was trying to hold himself back. He wanted to move so badly, his hips twitched, the urge to buck into you nearly overwhelming. He stayed strong, moving slowly and gently until you were ready. 

Once he’d pushed all the way in, his cock nestled deep inside you, he stopped. His eyes flicked up to your face, taking in your expression- and god, were you a sight. Your hair was spread out on his pillow, a few strands sticking to your face, your eyes wide, lips parted, tits moving slightly with each breath you took, your belly soft, legs spread, and your gorgeous cunt wet and puffy and stuffed full of his cock. He felt like he could cum just looking at you. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He muttered, unable to resist the slight nudge of his hips. You mewled at the feeling, the tip of him hitting a spot deep inside you that had you clenching down around him. “Liked that, didn’t she?” He grinned, his voice gravelly and rough as he eased his hips back, giving another shallow little thrust. He relished in your gasp, the way you pulsed around him. He was in trouble, knew it the moment he laid eyes on you in that bar, knew it as soon as he got you in his bed, and he knew it now as he gently thrust into your sopping cunt- he was going to get addicted to this, to you. 

His thumb pressed into your clit, the other holding your hip as he thrust again and again, short and shallow thrusts that eased you into the pleasure and sent heat licking up his spine. You were moaning now, soft little sounds that he couldn’t get enough of. “Sing f’me- lemme hear those lil’ sounds of yours.” He grunted as he quickened his pace, thrusting a little deeper. He surmised by the way your toes curled and your back arched that you liked it. “Like that, huh? S’little pussy’s eatin’ me up so well- greedy little thing she is,” 

You moaned, more wanton this time. Joel didn’t seem like the talking type, but the way he was talking to you now, half-drunk on whiskey and the feeling of your pussy around him- it only made the pleasure more intense, knowing that it was you who was bringing this handsome man to this point. “So full,” you mewled softly, “I feel so full.” You didn’t know how to talk dirty, but in the haze of pleasure, you thought you could certainly try. He pushed his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you, leaning forward a bit to put his weight on you. “Yeah? You like being full of my cock?” 

“Yes,” you moaned, your voice high and breathy, “I love it. Love your cock, Joel.” That seemed enough to get him going, his head dropping down so his hair hung in front of his face. “Shit, yeah baby- you love it? Love this cock? I’ll give you all you want, darlin’ don’t you worry.” His hands moved to plant themselves on either side of your head, his big arms caging you in as he started rolling his hips, thrusting slow and deep inside you. The both of you moaned at the same time, your head falling back against the pillow as he hit that sweet spot inside you again. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, picking his pace up again. Your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly. Your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts, which he seemed to like, as his mouth came down to suck at your right nipple. You gasped, moaning softly in response to the way he growled against your flesh, like a hungry animal. It was primal, desperate, and fucking hot. 

“Joel,” you whined, a soft cry escaping you as he gently sank his teeth into the flesh around your nipple. He was thrusting faster now, desperately chasing his release. You clung to him, your nails clawing into his back as you rolled your hips up to meet his thrusts. His teeth moved to your neck, nipping at your skin before moving up to your jaw. “Fuck, baby, you feel so damn good-” he groaned, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. He was on his elbows now, furiously moving his hips. “Look at me,” he pleaded, lifting his head just enough to look down at your face, into your eyes- he looked so raw, so vulnerable, and so beautiful you could hardly stand it. Your hands pressed into his back, pulling him closer. All you could do was helplessly mewl his name, so desperate for him it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He noticed your eyes watering and wiped away the moisture with his thumb. “I got you baby,” he murmured as you cried out his name, your orgasm close, “I got you. Cum with me, c’mon sweetheart-” 

You saw white as your orgasm tore through you, powerful and absolutely devastating. You screamed his name, your nails sinking deep into his flesh as you shook, your walls spasming around him. He cursed loudly, shouting your name before he buried his face in your neck, his own body trembling as he tensed up and buried himself as deep as he could, spurting rope after rope of cum inside you. 

You held on to each other for a long time, panting and shivering through the aftershocks. He pressed gentle kisses on your neck and jaw, murmuring soft praises in your ear. “Did so good f’me baby- took me so well. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen- I mean it.” He doubled down after you protested, squeezing your hips possessively. Once the post-orgasm haze began to fade, you noticed the warmth of his spend inside you. 

“Mm, so warm,” you hummed, too blissed-out for the implications to dawn on you. “What’s warm, darlin’?” He asked with a chuckle as he kissed your cheek. “Your cum inside me,” you giggled, pulling back to give him a mischievous and very dreamy smile. His eyes widened, his own dreamy expression wiped clean off his face as your words sobered him. “Shit,” he gasped as he pulled out of you, looking at how he dripped out of you. He quickly pushed aside the very strong masculine satisfaction he felt and got up to grab a rag from the adjoined bathroom, kneeling back on the mattress to gently clean you up. He held your leg open as he worked, his eyes laser-focused. 

“We’ll go to the pharmacy first thing in the mornin’,” he said once he was done, discarding the rag and kicking off his jeans to join you in bed. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you as pulled you against him. “For now, get some rest.” You let out a sleepy little hum, snuggling into his chest. It wasn’t hard at all to fall asleep, to your pleasant surprise, and you slept a very blissful, dreamless sleep until morning, your heart full and satisfied- and you knew you’d become addicted to him, but you were more than okay with that. 

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A/N: As feral as I am, I cannot write smut without giggling - It's just really funny trying to find hot ways to describe a pp LOL. Also ignore how sucky the title is I literally couldn't think of anything T-T.

Makes his desire extremely obvious, at least to you. Leans over your shoulder, hand on your desk to cage you against it. Hes just here for some papers, but you know that's not whats on his mind when a hand lands on the back of your neck "thank you, sweetheart. Perfect for me, as always."

You know the type of man price is, and you know the kind of person hes hoping you are. All stripped down in his bed, soft and whimpering. You play along when he takes you to a bar. Fluster the right amount when a hand rests on your thigh, avoid eye contact when he asks about past partners. Its almost too easy, watching prices eyes darken as he asks "want me to show you the ropes, love? Make sure you know how a man should be treating you?"

He gets you into bed, warm bodies pressed against eachother. You have to physically restrain yourself from jumping prices bones when he takes off his shirt to reveal thick hair and a soft stomach. He chuckles at your hungry expression, mistakes it for shock when he shucks his pants off.

Hes...deliciously big. Not as big as some of your toys, but just around the size you go for when you want to be brainless for awhile. Price is cooing at you about getting properly stretched out, rubbing you but not dipping inside when you decide to strike.

Thick, muscle-strong legs wrap around his torso. With a twist of your abdomen in perfect form that would make ghost smile, you flip price onto his back and straddle his stomach. Hes looking up at you with wide eyes, groaning as you line your entrance up with his tip.

You grin, "I told you I was a virgin, not that I didnt have experience."

And God did you show off all those tricks youve learned. Riding price like you were trying to kill him. Hes used to fucking pretty things that are tuckered out after one or two rounds. But you? Youve been fantasizing about getting a man like john under you, and you wont be satisfied until hes begging you to stop.

You live up to those words. Mouth busy on prices chest, bites and hickeys all over, hes gasping and whining openly by now. It takes alot to break a man like him, but by the time your legs are feeling a bit sore hes grabbing your hips with teary eyes "wait- wait- stop. Let me- fuuuuck, just let me breathe for a moment okay love?"

Of course you oblige, slipping off of him and wishing you had a camera to capture the utterly sinful amount of cum that spills out.

Cleaning up is routine enough, even if the bathroom is unfamiliar. You grab price a cold water bottle from the fridge downstairs while your at it, snuggling against his chest while he chugs it.

"So....do this again tomorrow?"

Ruining the aesthetic

Steve Harrington x virgin!bimbo!reader Warnings : MNDI ! 18+, virginity loss, p in v, fingering, praise kink (?)

The vanity mirror in your bedroom was bordered by round, glowing bulbs, casting a bright, unforgiving light on your workspace. To anyone else, the array of products scattered across the glass surface, tubes of frosted pink lipstick, pots of glitter gel, three different cans of hairsprays, and an arsenal of brushes, might have looked like chaos. To you, it was an armory.

You were Hawkins High’s resident "doll." You were the girl who wore heels on tuesdays just because, the girl whose notes were color-coded in pastel gel pens, the girl who unironically loved horoscope columns and smelled permanently of vanilla cupcake batter and expensive perfume.

People made assumptions. They saw the bleached highlights, the short skirts, and the wide-eyed, gum-popping smile, and they assumed there wasn’t much going on upstairs. You didn't mind. Let them think you were just air and sugar. It was easier that way. Being a "bimbo", as the burnout kids sometimes muttered when you walked by, was a shield. It was a soft, pink, impenetrable armor against a town that was often grey and scary.

But there was one person who looked at you and didn't just see the aesthetic. He saw the person who curated it.

A horn honked outside. Three short bursts. Steve.

You grabbed your purse and took one last look in the mirror. You were wearing a baby pink fuzzy sweater that stopped just above your navel, and a white mini-skirt that left very little to the imagination. Your lips were glossed to a high-shine mirror finish.

Perfect.

You bounded down the stairs, shouted a quick goodbye to your parents who were watching TV in the den, and stepped out into the humid Indiana evening.

Steve Harrington was leaning against the hood of his car. He was wearing his signature grey member’s only jacket over a yellow polo, his hair coiffed to impossible heights. He looked tired, he always looked tired these days, shadows lingering under his hazel eyes, but when he saw you, the exhaustion evaporated.

His jaw actually dropped. It was a reaction you worked hard for, and it never got old.

“Hi Stevie,” you chirped, walking down the driveway, your white heels clicking on the pavement.

Steve pushed off the car, meeting you halfway. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He smelled like Brut cologne, hairspray, and faintly of cigarette smoke. It was the best smell in the world.

“You look…” He shook his head, a lopsided grin taking over his face. “I mean, look at you. You look like a movie star. A really hot movie star.”

You giggled, smoothing the collar of his jacket. “And you look like a very handsome babysitter. Rough day with the nuggets?”

Steve groaned, rolling his eyes toward the sky. “Henderson tried to build a radio tower in my backyard. Again. I spent three hours hauling scrap metal. I need a break. I need you.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, going up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, careful not to get gloss on him. “All night. No kids allowed.”

Steve opened the passenger door for you. “Best news I’ve heard all week.”

Dinner was in a small fancy restaurant. You sat in a booth in the back, picking at a plate of pasta while Steve devoured a burger.

The conversation was easy. This was why it worked. You talked about the new fall collection at the mall. You talked about which shade of nail polish suited your skin tone best (Cotton Candy or Ballet Slipper?). You talked about the drama between two cheerleaders Steve barely knew.

And Steve? He listened. He listened with a rapt attention that melted your heart. He watched you talk, his eyes tracking the way your hands moved, the way you twirled your straw. He treated your interests with the same seriousness he treated his monster-hunting. To him, your world of glitter and gossip was a sanctuary. It was normal. It was safe.

But tonight, there was an undercurrent of something else.

Steve’s hand kept finding yours across the table. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles, tracing the rings on your fingers. His gaze was heavier, darker. It wasn't just adoration; it was hunger.

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’re staring.”

Steve blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry. I just… I can’t believe you’re mine, sometimes. You’re just so… much. In the best way.”

You flushed, a genuine heat rising to your cheeks that had nothing to do with blush. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m not sweet,” Steve said, his voice dropping, becoming rougher. “I’m a guy sitting across from the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, trying to figure out how fast we can finish dinner so I can take you home.”

Your breath hitched. The air between you suddenly felt thick.

“I’m finished,” you whispered, pushing your plate away.

Steve signaled for the check immediately.

The drive to the Harrington house was filled with the sounds of Madonna and the rushing wind. Steve’s hand rested on your thigh the entire time, his grip firm, possessive. The heat from his palm seeped through your stockings, making your heart race.

You knew where this was going. You had been dating for three months. Three months of heavy make-out sessions in his car, of hands roaming over clothes, of breathless stops at the front door before your curfew.

But you had never gone all the way.

It was the one secret you kept hidden under the layers of lip gloss and bravado. Everyone assumed things about you. They saw the tight skirts and the way you clung to Steve and assumed you were experienced. They assumed you were "easy."

The truth was, you were terrified. You were a virgin. A total, complete, technical virgin. And tonight felt like the night that was going to change.

When you pulled up to his massive, empty house, the lights were off. His parents were gone. Again.

Steve unlocked the front door and you stepped into the cool, silent foyer. He didn't even turn on the lights. He just kicked the door shut, dropped his keys in the bowl, and pulled you toward him.

The kiss was searing. It wasn't the sweet peck from the driveway. It was deep, wet, and urgent. Steve groaned into your mouth, his hands tangling in your hair, messing up the perfect volume you had spent twenty minutes on. You didn't care.

He walked you backward until you hit the wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, his thigh slotting between your legs. You could feel how much he wanted you, the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. It sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he murmured against your neck, biting gently at the sensitive cord of muscle there. 

You nodded, unable to speak.

He took your hand and led you up the stairs, his grip tight, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

His bedroom was messy, piles of clothes, a half-read book, old mixtapes scattered on the dresser. It smelled like him. It was your favorite place in the world.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his knees. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and blown wide. He reached out, his hands resting on your waist, his thumbs stroking the soft fabric of your sweater.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach through the sweater. Then, he looked up, a silent question in his eyes.

You took a deep breath. You reached down and grabbed the hem of your sweater. You pulled it over your head, tossing it onto the floor.

Underneath, you were wearing a sheer, baby pink lace bralette. It was flimsy, expensive, and made you look like a pin-up girl.

Steve let out a sharp hiss of breath. “Jesus… Y/N…”

He reached for the zipper of your skirt.

“Steve,” you said. Your voice came out small, shaky. A stark contrast to the confident girl who had walked into the restaurant.

Steve stopped immediately. His hands froze on your hips. He looked up, his expression instantly shifting from lust to concern. “What? What is it? Did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly, placing your hands over his. “No, you’re perfect. It’s just…”

You looked down at him. The King of Hawkins. The guy who had dated Nancy Wheeler. The guy who presumably knew exactly what he was doing. And then there was you, all style, no substance, at least in this department.

“I have to tell you something,” you whispered. “And it’s… it’s kind of embarrassing. Because I know what I look like. I know what people say.”

Steve frowned, his brow furrowing. He stood up, towering over you, but he kept his distance, giving you space. “Hey. Who cares what people say? Talk to me.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurted out.

The silence in the room was deafening for a split second.

Steve blinked. “Done what?”

“This,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Sex. Everything. I’m… I’m a virgin, Steve.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to laugh. Waiting for him to be disappointed that the "hot bimbo girlfriend" didn't come with the skills he probably expected.

Instead, you felt warm hands cup your face.

You opened your eyes. Steve was looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was tender. It was surprised, yes, but mostly… he looked awestruck.

“You’re a virgin?” he repeated softly.

You nodded, biting your lip. “I know. It’s stupid. I look like this, and I—”

“It’s not stupid,” Steve interrupted firmly. He ran his thumbs over your cheekbones. “It’s… wow. Okay. So, I’m the first?”

“You’re the first,” you confirmed. “If you… still want to.”

Steve let out a breathless laugh, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “If I still want to? Baby, are you crazy? Of course I want to. I want you more than anything.”

He pulled back to look at you, his hazel eyes serious now. “But this changes things. We have to… I want to make sure you’re okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can stop. We can just make out.”

“I want to,” you said, reaching up to thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I really, really want to, Steve. I trust you.”

That broke him. You saw the moment his resolve crumbled into pure, molten affection.

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you gently, so much softer than before. “Okay. Then I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I’m going to be so good to you.”

The shift in dynamic was palpable. Before, it had been a race. Now, it was a slow, deliberate worship.

Steve undressed you like you were made of spun glass. He unzipped your skirt and helped you step out of it. He unclasped your bra, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made you shiver. When you were finally standing before him in nothing but your lacy pink panties and stockings, he just looked.

“You are perfect,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over every curve. “Like a doll. My perfect doll.”

He stripped off his own clothes quickly, the jacket, the polo, the jeans, revealing a body that was lean and scarred from battles you only half-knew about. He looked strong. He looked capable.

He picked you up, lifting you effortlessly, and laid you back against the pillows. The sheets were cool against your skin. Steve hovered over you, bracing his weight on his elbows so he wouldn't crush you.

“Tell me if anything feels bad,” he said, brushing hair out of your eyes. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I mean it, Y/N. Even if I’m… in the middle of it. You say stop, I stop.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Kiss me, Stevie.”

He kissed you. He kissed your mouth, slow and deep. He kissed your jaw. He kissed your neck, sucking a bruise there that you’d have to cover with makeup tomorrow. He moved down your body, kissing your collarbone, the slope of your breast, your stomach.

“You’re so soft,” he groaned against your skin. “You smell like frosting. I could eat you up.”

His hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the lace of your panties. You gasped, your hips bucking instinctively.

“Easy,” he soothed, his voice low and rumbling. “I’ve got you.”

He used his fingers first, prepping you, stretching you. He watched your face the entire time, gauging your reactions. Every time you moaned, a smirk played on his lips, a mix of male pride and genuine happiness that he was making you feel good.

“You like that?” he whispered, his thumb circling you.

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping the sheets. “Steve, please.”

“You’re so wet,” he praised, leaning up to kiss you again. “You’re so ready for me. God, you’re so pretty when you’re like this. All flushed and messy.”

He removed your panties slowly, sliding them down your legs. Then, he reached over to the nightstand for a condom. He fumbled a bit, his hands were shaking, which somehow made you feel better. He was nervous too. The King of Hawkins was nervous because of you.

When he was protected, he settled between your legs. He nudged your knees apart wider, stepping into the cradle of your hips.

“Okay,” he breathed, his face hovering inches from yours. “I’m gonna come in now. It might hurt a little at first. Just breathe for me.”

You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. You felt the heavy, blunt pressure of him against your entrance.

Steve pushed forward slowly. He was agonizingly gentle. He entered you inch by inch, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion. It burned, a sharp, stretching sensation that made you wince and dig your nails into his shoulders.

Steve stopped immediately. He held perfectly still, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. He kissed the sweat from your forehead.

“You okay?” he gritted out.

“Yeah,” you panted. “Just… give me a second.”

“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You took a few deep breaths, focusing on the weight of him, the heat of his chest against yours. The pain began to fade, replaced by a feeling of fullness. You looked into his eyes. They were wide, vulnerable, and full of love.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Keep going.”

Steve pushed deeper, sliding past the barrier until he was fully sheathed inside you. He let out a long, broken groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “You feel… you feel incredible.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then, slowly, he began to move.

It wasn't fast. It wasn't rough. It was a slow, rolling rhythm. He pulled almost all the way out and then glided back in, hitting deep.

“Steve,” you whimpered. The sensation was overwhelming. It was too much and not enough all at once.

“I know,” he whispered, peppering kisses over your face. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

He began to pick up the pace, just slightly. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to the mattress. You found yourself moving with him, your instincts taking over. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough. “Just like that. You’re doing so good. You’re taking it so good.”

Hearing him praise you flipped a switch in your brain. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted to be the best he’d ever had.

“Does it feel good?” you asked breathlessly.

“It feels like heaven,” Steve groaned. “You have no idea. Being the first one inside you… knowing no one else has touched you like this… it’s driving me crazy.”

He thrust harder, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur. Pleasure coiled in your stomach, hot and tight.

“Steve!” you cried out.

“I’m here. Let go, baby. Come for me.”

He reached down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. That was the tipping point. The friction, the fullness, the smell of him, it all crashed together.

You fell apart. You cried out his name, your body clamping down around him as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Feeling you climax was too much for Steve. He groaned, a guttural sound deep in his chest. He drove into you hard, once, twice, three times, before burying himself deep and freezing there. His body shuddered against yours, his arms crushing you to him as he poured himself into you.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of harsh breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan.

Steve collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy and comforting. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing slowly returning to normal. You ran your hands up and down his sweaty back, tracing the line of his spine.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head. His hair was a disaster, a messy halo around his head. He looked exhausted and incredibly happy.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of regret or pain. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said softly. “It was… perfect. You were perfect.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief and rolled off you, pulling you into his side. He pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning you together.

He looked at you, taking in the smeared lip gloss, the messy hair, the flushed skin. The "bimbo" aesthetic was ruined, dismantled by his hands. And yet, he looked at you like you were even more beautiful now than you were when you walked out of the house.

“You’re a mess,” he teased gently, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

You laughed, snuggling closer to his chest. “You did this.”

“Guilty,” he grinned. He kissed the top of your head. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice serious again. “For trusting me. For giving me… that. It means a lot. More than you know.”

You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat steady and strong beneath your palm. You knew people saw you as the airhead and him as the washed-up King. But in this bed, in the dark, you were just two people who had found a safe place to land.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered.

Steve tightened his arm around you. “I love you too, doll. So much.”

He reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

“Now,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair. “If you think you’re getting out of this bed anytime before noon tomorrow, you’re crazy.”

You smiled, closing your eyes, surrounded by the smell of Brut and the warmth of the only man who mattered. “Totally fine by me.”

Pairing: Shane Walsh x Reader

Summary: Losing your virginity to your dad’s best friend.

Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dubcon, smut with no plot, dbf!shane, grimes!reader, bunny!reader, dom!shane, female reader (she/her) with female anatomy, kinda size kink, BIG age-gap (reader is a college student), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, hair pulling, unprotected p in v sex, guilt, drunk sex, daddy kink, drunk driving (be safe), no outbreak!au, no established relationship, no use of Y/N

Word count: 3.5k words

A/N: This fic is so self-indulgent lmao. I posted a dbf!shane blurb here, but this is a proper oneshot. This was a lot of fun to write, and I’m slowly overcoming my writer’s block. Somehow daddy kink snuck in there, which I have never written, but the heart wants what it wants. Shane’s lowkey a piece of shit in this, sorry!! Also, shoutout to @officergrimesloml and @c0yotebites for proofreading this for me, love y'all <3

Masterlist | S.W. smut masterlist

After an argument with Rick, you’d fled to Shane’s apartment. The two of you had been drinking for hours when things escalated. You were perched in his lap, straddling one of his thighs. You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drunkenly shifting against the denim of his jeans. Your body was instinctively seeking out some kind of friction. Shane’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words slurred with intoxication.

“What’re you doin’, darlin’? Humpin’ my leg like a fuckin’ dog.”

No Rush

In which... they find out you're a virgin

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Contents: virgin!reader, fluff, suggestive themes, reader is insecure about their virginity, established relationships (except dick), gn!reader, virgin!tim drake 

a/n: sorry this took a bit! but i loved this request🤍 I wasn't sure how suggestive you wanted this to be so I kept it fluff, hope you enjoy🫶🏻

Dick Grayson

Finds out because every time you're close to fucking, you have a reason to not go there.

Of course, he respects it every time, but it doesn't stop him from feeling insecure. Was it something he did or said? Are you just not that into him? 

You're not together, so it's not like he's entitled to ask you about it, right?

One night, after you get back to your apartment, he kisses you. 

You’re on his lap before either of you remembers how it started—his big hands on your hips, your fingers in his hair, your mouth opening for every kiss he gives like you were made to. The movie you put on is long forgotten, the only glow in the room coming from the TV screen and the faint streetlight through the blinds.

Bucky groans into your mouth when you tug his hair a little, a deep, needy sound that vibrates all the way through you.

“Easy, doll,” he mutters, though he’s smiling against your lips. “You keep kissing me like that, I’m not gonna make it through the night.”

Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader | The Boys

NOTES: based on this ask, I took some creative liberties with the background plot but I think you'll love it

TW: smut, reader is a virgin, definitely manipulative ben but it's in a very delicious way, younger!actress!reader (they're costars), oral + fingering (f receiving), spitting in mouth, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, coming inside, ben being yucky but also dreamy and perfect

Masterlist

It starts as a studio thing.

A clean, patriotic, Vought film—hero meets heart, Soldier Boy resurrected alongside a fresh-faced darling half his age. The press eats it up. You’re the ingénue; he’s the legend. Every photo op is gold. He keeps his hand at your back, not your waist. He pulls out your chair. He gives the quotes they want.

“She’s a real class act,” he says with a warm smile. “Don’t see much of that anymore.”

He calls you “sweetheart” in interviews, like it’s endearing. Like he’s harmless.

Off-camera, somehow, he’s even better.

Ben doesn’t crudely flirt. He escorts. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk. Orders your dinner before you get the nerve to pick something yourself—but somehow, it’s always what you like. He keeps you close without ever crossing a line. No rumors. No tension. Just steady, quiet confidence that settles somewhere in your chest and stays there. 

Sure, he can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s lived through so much—wars, real ones—and there’s something about that kind of survival that earns a little grit.

He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. Not once.

And you? You trust him completely and he’s never, not once, given you a reason to question that trust.

So when he invites you over after a late press run—low voice, light touch, “just dinner, sweetheart. just the two of us.”—you don’t hesitate.

Because it’s Ben. Because he’s been perfect. Because he’s made you feel safe in ways you didn’t know you needed.

And that’s exactly how he planned it.