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
summary// you ended up realizing that making clark your lab rat would simultaneously be the best and worst decision of your relationship.
content warning// conditioning, mating press, doggy style, nasty filthy sex, creampie, clark is feral, clark has an alien dick, clark swears, improper use of x-ray vision, kryptonian breeding kink, squirting, clark is pathetic
2k words whew
with clark kent fucking you like that, you don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
.
on monday, on the evening, you decided that you could begin your sick little experiment of conditioning on clark. after reading an article about it online, you wanted your alien boyfriend to be your lab-rat for it, and saw no apparent downsides to the experiment, so you went on with it.
starting with the trigger, you decided for it to be a duck emoji. weird enough for clark to be confused, not too weird for it to have him worrying like the sweetheart he is. ten minutes before you arrived home after work, you had sent him a singular duck emoji with no context or follow-up to it, which, as expected, had your poor clarkie as confused as ever. you smiled when he immediately texted back with ‘???’—success. as soon as you arrived home, you barely let him finish his questioning before pouncing on him, interrupting his sentence with a kiss he welcomed with open arms.
that night, you rode the man to the moon and back—gave him such mind-numbing pleasure that he couldn’t even bother to remember his previous confusion about the duck emoji.
and so, with the first day being a success, you repeated the process.
every day following that one, you would do the same thing—no texts or news all day, a duck emoji ten minutes before coming home, mind-blowing sex.
after a few days of repeating the process, you began to space out these encounters, opting to send the duck emoji every two to three days—a great way to keep the man on his toes, anticipating, waiting for the next time you'd send him that emoji.
then came the most awaited experiment—your greatest mistake.
it was on a friday night that you had decided tonight was the night. you had sent clark the usual duck emoji, smirking as he had immediately seen the text. however, when you arrived home, it wasn't like usual. usually, upon sending the emoji, you'd pounce on him and drag him to the bedroom. tonight, however? radio silence. well, not quite, but that's it felt to clark. you didn't give him those bedroom eyes you usually did on nights you were feeling particularly needy, you insisted on taking a shower all by yourself (he almost crumbled at that) and after dinner, you lounged on the couch to watch a tv show without even asking him to follow you! you just did!
the thing about clark kent is, he's a gentleman through and through. his ma had raised him to be one, and for christ's sake, he was superman! how could he not be a gentleman? but, he sympathizes with himself, you can't spell gentlemna without man, and clark was a man before he was anything else. a very aroused and hopelssly in love man, at that.
he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, staring at you. you noticed, of course, but this wasn't unusual. clark has always had sort of weird quirks—you had always found them endearing. "is something the matter, honey?" your sirupy voice cut through his stream of thought, and suddenly his eyes focus again, gaze meeting yours.
clark has his phone in hand, and he brings it up to look back at the duck emoji you had sent. duck meant sex. you wanted this. he can indulge. you want this.
he knows you do. you sent the text, and he feels like he can almost smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane because he just wants to dive in it and taste it and fuck you everywhere so the entire place smells like you and-
in the blink of an eye, his phone is abandonned and he's on you, lips smashed against yours. you barely have the time to react but you do, arms now hanging around his thick neck. his hand latches itself onto your cheeks, fingers pressing into both of them, urging you to open your mouth. as soon as you do, his tongue, which was inhumanely long, snaked into your cavern, exploring its depths. he moaned at the taste of your saliva, almost melting into you as if the flavor of you was his ultimate salvation.
noticing the lack of air filling your lungs, he pulled away, his eyes softening at the sight of you catching your breath. "c-clark... what's... whta's gotten into you?" you licked your lips, face flushed. he looks at you like a puppy begging for its treat. "the emoji... you sent the emoji but you didn't... i thought..." his mind is a rush, moving at a thousand miles per hour as his entire body is begging him to rip your clothes off and take you.
he gives up, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "i just... i really need to fuck you, sweetheart." and as he's confessing this, his hand is gliding towards the waistband of your bottoms, sliding swiftly underneath it.
you think you could ascend.
you bite your lip, rendered mute at the sheer tension of the moment. "i know you want it, baby..." he scoffs, eyes closed. "can smell it."
curse him for being such a dangerously hot and multi-abled alien.
his hand makes its way underneath your panties, finger running through your slit, collecting the slick you've been trying to keep to yourself for the past hour. "ah..." you let out a low sound, almost imperceptible but clark was so hyper-focused on you that the little moan made him shudder.
he uses his forearm to push himself upwards, his hand escaping your bottoms to rush up to his mouth, and when you look at him, you gasp, feeling your walls clench.
because clark has never looked this feral.
his eyes were half-lidded and impossibly dark, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows your juices, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste. he moans, his cock twitching and growing inside his sweatpants.
"you're gonna give it t'me, right sweetie?" he asks in that low, sultry voice that he only allows himself to use when he'd rather die than not touch you.
the eager nod you gave him marked the moment you knew you were done for.
.
how long has it been? you don't know. you don't know anything, actually. your brain is fogged with how clark was pounding you into the fuzzy carpet, your eyes crossing when the buds running along his dick grazed against the ridges of your walls, the added sensation making you spasm. "f-ffuck-! clark- oh my god, ohmygod—" you can barely form a sentence, let alone link two words together when he knocks at your cervix, your tits bouncing in rhythm with every thrust.
and clark isn't even listening to you, his eyes laser-focused on the sight of his cock splitting you open repeatedly, a vein bulging on his forehead at his intense use of his x-ray vision. "look at that, b-baby... look..." and you don't even bother, too lost in the ecstasy. he sees it all though, the strings of your arousal clinging to his tip every time he pulls away, the ridged of your pussy hooking onto his buds, the contractions of your muscles.
he finally manages to pull his eyes away from the sight, only to be met with the even prettier, albeit messier sight of your fucked out face. tears and drool glossed your skin, your eyes rolled back nearly to the back of your skull, throwing your head back when clark's hips stutter against yours, a white-hot wave washing over him over the sight.
he stilled when his buds hardened and hooked onto your walls, pulling him impossibly deep as he shoots buckets worth of cum deep into your womb. "a-ah! holy sh- hmm, fffuck, baby- i- fuck!" he sobs, jerking down towards you and you moan at the feeling of him filling you up once more, droplets of his sweat dripping onto your buzzing skin.
despite his orgasm, he doesn't stop, "n-need m-moree- needa fill you up-! ah, fuck!" his voice jumps up an octave when his buds finally relax again, allowing him to keep pistoning into you. "d-don't stop, clark! please dont- oh-!" he suddenly grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders before beeending down, succesfully folding you in half. his face is now slotted right in front of yours, and the eye contact is so intense you almost feel shy under his gaze.
a mating press. clark kent had you in a fucking mating press.
you get lost in his ocean blue eyes, barely able to keep the eye conatct when he fucks you almost like he hated you, digging in your pussy. "you're... you're so beautiful, honey... so fucking pretty- all f'me, yeah? all f'me?" you nod, hands pressing against the back of his head to bring him impossiby closer to you, "all for you, clarkie," you confirmed being hastily pressing his against you, imprisoning him in a feverish kiss. clark moans into your mouth, eyes closing. you jolt slightly when you feel a tear drip down on your cheek, peeling your eyes open to see clark crying.
he pulls away, gasping for air as his throat restricts. "i l-love you, love you s'much— need you so, ngh, so bad... wanna breed ya'..." he sobs, whimpering for you. seeing clark become such a slave to his love for you had an inescapable effect on you, and your orgasm was almost immediate. you came with a gasp, the pleasure being so heavy that your eyes had given up on their function, unfocusing and leaving you with the blurry image of clark's flushed expression. your back arched as cream dribbled out of your hole, creating a white ring around clark's base.
in the midst of your orgasm, he pulls out, making you whine for the few seconds your face isn't smushed against the carpet because in a matter of moments, your world tilted before you found yourself face down ass up for your boyfriend. he pressed a hand on your back, urging a deeper arch. "m'sorry baby, m'so sorry..." he apologizes for the his unceremonial behavior but his apologies fall on deaf ears as you couldn't be happier.
your hands clutch the fluff of the carpet when he slams back into you, kneading the flesh of your ass. "just... just need this. s'your fault for making me wait... so long.. to have you- ngh, gosh..." he's hypnotized by the rippling of your ass, and the way your back bends impossibly for a second each time he rams back inside you, pressing you further into the carpet.
with clark kent fucking you like that, you really don’t think you’re making it out alive.
well, your fault for trying to experiment on a poor, farm-grown kryptonian.
your moans are rhythmic, matching the pace of his hips. leaning in, he wraps an arm around you to squeeze your tits, massaging them and rubbing your hardened nipples. "so obedient..." his comment makes your walls flutter around his fat cock. he begins to roll his hips, not quite thrusting. he presses against you, making you drool. "nghhh... fffuuuck... love you... so much.. c-clark-!" you slurred, going crazy at the sensation of his buds hardening slowly again, hooking onto your insides.
"w-want your cum-! want you to b-breed me!" you egged him on, "yeah? y'want it, baby? oh gosh, i'm cumming, m'cummingm'cumming-" he gritted, spilling into you once more. "oh my god! oh god, sweetheart!" he whined, your name escaping him as his hips bucked again, releasing rope upon rope inside you. his orgasm triggered yours, drops of your release trickled down onto the carpet before his hand snaked down to your clit, rubbing furiously and suddenly an intense stream released itself onto the now soaked carpet, the intensity of both of your orgasms making the two of you collaspe in a heap.
he layed on top of you, both of you catching your breaths. "i feel so... sticky." he remarked, "shit... i ruined the carpet." you groaned, knitting your eyebrows together.
a silence settled in, before you broke it. "i'm glad my experiment worked." a beat passes before he reacts, "experiment?"
"i tried conditioning you into associating sex with the duck emoji. it worked."
clarks hums, choosing not to react any further.
a few days later, minutes after the end of your shift, you receive a text from clark.
Bruce breaking Superman's mind control by flashing him with his pussy.
Because I like tormenting Hal, he's present for this. Sorry Hal fans, I just have a little beef with him lol
---
"We gonna die," Hal said, watching Superman - brainwashed by some Poison Ivy's pheromones - stalking towards them. He cornered Hal and Bruce and now was going to fry their brains. "I thought you always wore kryptonite on you."
"I have something better I wear on me at all time," Bruce responded, not looking even slightly worried.
"Another kryptonite?" Hal guessed, pressing his back to the wall behind them.
Bruce smirked. "Something like that." He took off his cape. "Look away if you don't want to see it."
Hal's eyes grew larger when the utility belt followed.
"See what?! What are you going to do?!" he shouted frantically, face growing hot when Bruce began taking off the lower part of his suit. "Oh my god! Are you fucking kidding me?!"
Hal quickly covered his eyes with his hand, but he couldn't help but peek from between his fingers a little. He avoided looking at Bruce, uh... delicates while the man lowered himself to the ground, laying down on his own cape.
Superman paused and tilted his head as if in confused. Hal couldn't blame him, this was so bizarre. And it only got worse when Bruce spoke.
"You recognize this, Kal?" he purred sensually. Hal desperately tried to ignore the squelching sound accompanying Bruce's words.
Superman stood still, nostrils flaring.
Hal could practically hear the satisfaction in Bruce's voice.
"Yes, you do," he chuckled. Superman took a step, but only towards Bruce, then hesitated, as if fighting with himself. "Come on, Kal. Come and get what's yours."
Whatever control Ivy's pheromones had on him, it snapped instantly.
"Oh my god!" Hal yelled, horrified when Superman dove right between Bruce's legs and they both moaned. "You son of a bitch, you really are doing it!"
"You better go," Bruce instructed, already out of breath, voice shaking from whatever Superman was doing. "He's still not fully back yet, and it's better if he doesn't-ah!... See you or he'll get protective."
"Yeah, I don't need an encouragement, I'm getting the fuck out of here!"
Hal ran as fast as he could, and he thought he was gone for when he heard Superman growl angrily. Bruce quickly redirected the Kryptonian’s attention.
"Eyes down there, Kal," he said and Superman's growl turned into a pleased purr.
Hal was going to have nightmares for the rest of his life.
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
part 1 here :p cuz I promise if u don't read it you won't understand a THING
clark kent feels weird, today.
like, really weird.
this morning when he woke up, he felt like he was having a heat stroke. his skin was buzzing and uncharacteristically warm, but he just brushed it off thinking it was his kryptonian body acting up again.
well, he wasn't wrong.
at work, everything felt worse. he felt intensely disoriented, his head buzzing and spinning endlessly. he had trouble controlling his strength, accidentally shattering his coffee mug or even unwilling snapping his keyboard in half.
but everything got worse when he sensed you.
not saw, sensed.
it was unusual, truly. he spotted your body heat among others, could only focus on your voice, and damn, since when does your skirt hug your butt like that? he quickly shook his head to escape those nasty thoughts but, in vain. it was like his entire body—the codex itself—was forcing him to focus on you. every thought in his head were of you, you, you.
but that was before you interacted with him, before you even laid your eyes on him.
when you did, everything spiked.
as soon as he saw those pretty eyes bore into his, he felt the heat in his chest spread out throughout his entire body. he shifted uncomfortably because of the raging boner he had and licked his lips in what seemed to be dehydration.
and his mind recognized it, recognized you—the groove of your walk, the sound your thighs rubbing together with each step, the familiar beating of your heart, and if he listened close enough, he could even hear the sound of your pussy lips–
"hey, clark," you waved at him and he stopped breathing, clenching his jaw tightly to conceal the ungodly sound that was currently clawing at his lips, ready to escape.
you noticed something was wrong with your beloved, and set a hand on his chest. his usually rock solid skin felt softer and incredibly warmer. when you moved to the right, you could feel his larger heart beating atleast ten times faster than it usually would.
"what's wron..." you trailed off when he grabbed your hand—tightly—and gave you a crooked smile as his eyebrows bent and pinched together. "p-please, dear, go away b-before i–" another spark of heat, "j-just go." and with that, he let you go, disappearing into the men's bathroom and leaving you there, confused and concerned.
it was only hours later, in the evening, that you saw clark again.
you were simply getting up to reheat your food before something—someone—crashed through your living room wall, knocking you down with it.
a strong hand wrapped around your head before you could knock it on the ground and before you knew it, a very familiar pair of lips came locking onto yours, kissing you deeply into his palm.
he pulled away to give you a moment to breath as he dipped down into you neck, licking and sucking. "c-clark what has... what has gotten into you?" you barely manage to breath, the dust and smoke of the broken wall was making it hard to inhale (and see clark at all), aswell as the weight of his body on yours.
"i don't- I dunno, I..." he kept licking your skin like a dog, your taste giving him some kind of sexual gratification. "all day I've been... my body felt so... so freakin' warm and just– I felt like all I needed was you... I couldn't even focus on anything i kept..." he was curiously out of breath, like the effort of simply speaking to you while holding back the urge to fuck your brains out was too much for him.
"...I kept smelling you and- and hearing you... and– jesus, I just.. want you so bad, darlin'.." he licked his way back up to your lips, nibbling on your bottom one softly. "clark," you finally managed to say, the dust settling. "tell me what you need." your hair ran up his back and into his hair, scratching his scalp which nearly made his eyes roll back.
"you. I need you, c-can I have you? please?" and the way he's just asking makes you want to give him everything he could ever ask for.
so you do.
as soon as you let out a soft "yes," he became a totally different kryptonian.
and that's how you ended up with your back arching away from the dining table, shoulders pressed against the cold surface by clark himself to keep you from slipping away at each mean thrust of his hips.
it's been, what, 4 orgasms? neither of you knew and honestly, neither of you cared—matter of fact, you both stopped caring when he finished inside for the first time and it happened.
the hooks.
"i- I wanna..." he swallows sharply, "I wanna feel it again, d-dont you, sweet thing? i-it felt so good, right? right." the both of you nodded dumbly at eachother and he smiled, terrifyingly so.
clark kent looked feral. his eyes were as hectic as his hands, moving everywhere. he wanted to see you, to feel you, to give in to you. he was inside you and yet he wanted more. he wanted you to be his—more than you already were.
"stuffin' you full so that- oh, god, yes— so that you can carry my kids... so that everyone will know you're– m-mine... mine, mine." he squeezed your breast, his gaze zeroing onto the oddly shaped (thanks to his buds) bulge on your stomach before his hand followed, caressing his cock through your skin and twitching every time the buds were stimulated.
it felt perfect, truly. he felt like you were made for him. the gummy texture of your walls fit perfectly with his buds as each of them grazed the crevices of your rugae every time his hips bumped into yours.
"c-clark, I don't... I'm gonna— i- i cant-" he presses down onto the bulge which makes you scream, "y-yes you can, baby, please- one more, just one more- i– please, sweetie, gosh, I love you so much!" his speech quickly became incoherent—a sign of his impending orgasm.
another tell-tale sign is, of course, the hardening of his buds. they were so strong that they halted his movement, burying him deep inside you while hooking onto your ridges. "o-oh my god–" you gasped, feeling the vein on his cock rubbing against your g-spot. "t-too much– I'm- I'm too full, clark!" and he shakes his head, chuckling lowly.
"n-no you're not baby! i-i can see it! you still... you can still handle more..." he starts to look more and more pained with each word, his body aching for release. "p-please.. pleasepleaseplease–- take it, baby, take it... please, it hurts... y-you're gonna be good f'me right? gonna be good and take it?" fuck, it was intoxicating. everything was. his speech, his smell, the feeling of his alien dick literally hooking inside you to cum deep in your womb...
"please..." was all you could mutter, but he understood. his body understood.
his release was cataclysmic. the buds settled slightly deeper into your crevices, allowing him to shoot into you with bullseye precision. "h-holy– oh my‐" he couldn't even speak. his breath came out in short pants and he looked up, as if begging some higher being to release him from this seemingly everlasting ache.
upon feeling his warm cum painting your insides, and hearing him mumble "g'nna make you a mommy... you're gonna look s-so pretty with my– hhnnng... my kid inside y-youu...", you orgasmed aswell. you walls clenched and rubbed against the now soft buds on his dick, pressing down onto his shaft which has his stomach clenching and caving, almost folding the kryptonian in half.
in the midst of it all, you swear you saw his eyes glow red for a moment, but he quickly blinked that away. his eyes flickered back to your face, and then back to you pelvis, before he threw his head back again with a groan.
"y-you're... shoot.." he's barely catching his breath, "you're not... full enough.." and he resumes his thrusting which makes you give up on looking at him, eyes lazily rolling back.
your entire body relaxed and went limp, allowing him to use you as he pleased.
"wanna make you a mommy... and you're not full enough."
« p-puh-lease, clark! lemme cum! wanna cum s’bad– c-can’t fucking think anymore! » you pleaded, eyes squeezing droplets of tears out of the orifices when he pushes deeper against you, folding you completely in half in the meanest mating press you think you’ve ever felt in your life.
this was probably the filthiest and dirtiest fuck you’ve had with clark, and gosh if you didn’t adore it.
you don’t know what came through him, why he was being so ruthless, or why he insisted on neither of you two cumming for so long, but the pleasure that erupted in your brain and corrupted it beyond conscience was too prominent for you to even think of question the man.
he had you trapped between the denting mattress and his lean muscles, abs tightening and clenching with every thrust his hips punished you with.
« s-s’okay, my love… sooo okay.. just gotta- hold on f’clarkie a bit more, yeah? wanna do that? gonna be a good girl f’me? » he cooed to you as if he was talking to an obedient dog, and the somewhat belittling praises rushed straight to your core as you clenched down on him, tighter and tighter, so tight that his eyes roll back into his skull, searching for a salvation only your wet pussy could give him.
you nod, drool dripping down your cheek as he gets faster and faster and faster, the line between pleasure and exhaustion blurring as your body finally went limp, allowing him to truly handle you as he wished and clark jumped on the occasion, folding you even more and spreading your unmoving legs wide open.
his thick, sticky cock rendered your walls raw as he pumped it in, thrust after thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs and the reason out of your skull.
he whimpered when your pussy started to spasm around him while still stretching to welcome more of him because of course he wasn’t fully inside of you, he’s clark kent!
but right now, the way he’s fucking you is so primal that you might as well refer to him as…
« k-kal-el! kal! ffffuck!! m’cumming! » and that almost does it for him. you referring to him as kal of house el, fuck, he should really put a baby in you.
but what really does it for him was the way your eyes rolled back toward him, staring at him wide-eyed as your abs clenched and your entire body locked up, squirt spraying out of you like a fountain, coating his abdominal muscles. the change in your position and in angle caused him to repeating hit that spot that made your clit flare up, prolonging your orgasm.
he gripped the headboard and slammed, slammed, slammed into you, grip tightening so hard the headboard cracked, before the entire bed did. it collapsed onto the floor, right in the middle where he had you. suddenly, gravity pushed him way deeper inside you, his bulbous tip smooching your cervix.
« o-oh, fuck! » he screamed out, balls finally tightening and allowing him to spurt out rope after rope of thick, potent cum, coating your insides with it. he shook above you when his eyes zeroed on your pelvis and he activated his x-ray vision, watching his cum really fill you up to the brim.
when he pulled out and collapsed on top of you, you were both sticky and out of breath. he kissed you jaw quietly, before breaking the comfortable silence.
« i-i’ll… i’ll pay for all the damages, baby… trust.. »
« c’mon, baby, bite on it.. » clark panted, his hips working on autopilot as they slammed into you repeatedly, while he presented his forearm to you, waiting for you to plant your cute little fangs in his skin of steel. he had in a full nelson, but let go of one of your limp legs. « c’mon, don’t needa think about it, just do what am sayin’, yeah? oh, yeah, good girl… good effin’ girl, that’s right- ah-! »
clark has always had a habit of talking you through things, be it doing the dishes, cooking, or sex. but you wonder what in earth came through him tonight because, fuck, was he talkative.
« g-gonna… hm, gonna fuck those useless braincells outta ya, yeah? been- ngh– been stressing out way too much about all that- that useless stuff, my love… » and he slammed up again, heavy balls tightening up with every twitch of your delicious pussy, all warm and gooey and sweet and he could practically taste your juices being squeezed out of your hole by his thick cock claiming its spot inside.
your fangs dig deeper into his skin, as if attempting to draw blood, but the kryptonian simply moans—whines in your ear, as if you could bite down harder, hurt him further. with you, pleasure blended with pain, and whatever you could do to him would feel too fucking good.
« lemme fill you– p-please… lemme fill that cute tummy up.. yeah? you want that? want it all inside? oh, yeah, my sweet honey… yeah, i know you want it. » the arm holding your leg up goes higher, bending your body into impossible flexibility. he cooed praises in your ear, whispers of sweet nothings to distract you from the bundle of pleasure focused on your core—in vain.
he saw that was in vain when a stream of cut squirted out of your pussy, soaking the mattress, and your walls smashed around his twitching cock, which did not take long to follow. « fffuhh- ngh– gah! y-yeah! baby, that’s it- hmm, yesss… s-such a p-perfect girl taking it aaall— ahh- fuck! fuck, it feels so good! m’cumming again! m’cumming! gonna make you a mommy- ah, m’cumming, mommy! »
and then he came again, more this time, filling you to what felt like the brim with his seed.
Can you write a smut of Clark just breeding you in doggy style, and he's so messy to the point where he's pressing your face into the bed, his HUGE sha-boing boing rapidly fucking you?
I need this man to do nasty things to me so bad its actually dangerous
first clark req, how did I do guys 😽
you couldn't blame anybody but yourself.
you asked for this. you asked for clark to go harder on you, to fuck instead of make love. and clark kent being clark kent, he was happy to oblige!
and that's how you ended up with your right cheek sticking onto the bed sheets thanks to the saliva that had been endlessly drooling out of your mouth. you couldn't even bring yourself to think about dragging your jaw back up because of the way his thick cock pounding into you resonated throughout your entire body.
the speed at which he was battering your insides made you go limp, body succumbing to the pleasure that was brought to you thanks to his pace. the friction made your lips heat up which had you bucking away from time to time—unsuccessfully so, because of clark's big hands gripping your hips like he couldn't bear the idea of you getting away.
"baby, you're so good– you- gosh, you're perfect... so, so perfect f'me..." as for clark, he wasn't much better—if not worse. at first, he was hesitant about this, but when he shot his first load inside you, something primal in him blocked out any thoughts of stopping.
when you looked back at him, you saw it—his eyes were focused on a single spot on your ass, and you knew he wasn't looking at you. he was looking inside.
he was looking at his dick pushing his cum out of your cunt to make space for it, he was looking at your walls pressing up against him in a desperate attempt to slow him down, he was looking at the droplets of cum that snuck into your womb—he was seeing it all.
"y-you see that? see?" no, i cant, is what you want to answer, but what comes out is an incomprehensible mix of words he doesnt even bother trying to understand. "t's all me baby– me, it's me in there... fuh- hm– d'ya feel me, baby?" and how could you not? clark was everywhere. you felt him rearranging your insides, you smelled his sweat and semen mixed together, you heard his moans and whimpers everytime you clenched... how could you not feel him?
"c'mon, sweetie, feel me..." and with that, he grabbed your hand that was previously gripping your pillow for dear life and forced it down, pressing it against the overwhelming large bulge on your stomach, which elicited a loud "holy shit–" from you and a long, breathy whimper from him.
he went back to normal vision to enjoy the sight of you disheveled and utterly ruined for him, and god help him—because he almost came right then and there.
his abs clenched when he witnessed the sight of your ass rippling and sticking to his pelvis with each deep thrust of his, the sight of your back arched to an almost impossible degree, and fuck, the way your eye muscles lost tension and allowed your eyes to roll back deep into your skull? that almost got him.
his grip tightened around the hand he was pressing against your bulge and he pulled it to your back, using it for leverage as he fucked even deeper into you (you didn't even know that could be possible), his own head throwing itself back as he started to lose himself completely in the action.
what really made him let go? your praises.
oh, your praises.
"holy fuck– clark, you're perfect, sooo, fuckin' perrfect and- shit! feels so good... so big and so good and so– ah! m'close, baby!" and he knew you were probably just rambling. he knew your brain was melted to the point where it would allow you to just let everything you were thinking spill out of your mouth. but you were thinking of him. speaking of him. to him.
him.
the fact that you gave him so much importance, so much value...
how did he not notice he was already cumming?
your eyes widened when you felt it—ropes and ropes of cum spilling endlessly into you, filling you up to a borderline dangerous extent. it was so warm, so overwhelming, so satisfying... you had to let go too.
"fffuck! please, baby, please! cum for me, I'm begging- please! wanna feel you, wanna feel- hmmm– shit," you're not sure if it's the fact that he swore, the fact that he begged, or the warmth of his seed inside you, but you do know that it was intense.
your entire body shook, muscles clenching and body curling up on itself as if attempting to flee from that feeling. your loud moans and whines echoed off the walls at the intensity of your orgasm, your cunt basically chocking his dick to the point where he had stopped moving all together.
"oh, yes, yesyesyes- please, yes!" clark cried out, pulling on your arm hard enough to drag you up before he wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your neck while you rode out your high.
when you finally came down from the euphoria of it all, you were panting, chest heaving while you were granted your vision back. "oh my... jesus..." you sighed out as he set you back down on the bed gently, your skin sticking to his slightly.
you twitched when he pulled out, his big hands massaging the globes of your ass softly. "you okay, honey?" he questioned and you weakly nodded, swallowing your spit and smirking before speaking up. "never been better..."
he stayed quiet for a moment before you turned around, lying down on your back.
he looked at you with big puppy doe eyes and you already knew what he wanted.
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
Description: Clark Kent had always felt he'd end up riding into the sunset with his oldest friend, but a wrench is thrown into his dream life when she's suddenly swept up with a new boyfriend. He could never deserve her, but Clark isn't one to step between anybody on purpose. On accident though? Sometimes things happen that you don't expect.
Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, slow-burn smut (fem receiving oral, p in v unprotected), emotional abuse/ultra-shitty boyfriend, cheating, clark kent cries during sex
Word Count: 9.6k
He’d loved you for a long time. He knew how he felt about you was different since you were little, running around together every summer. He wasn’t the type of little boy to tug on your pigtails or try to rough-house with you. His Pa had told him that was no way for a polite young man to behave, and Clark had taken it to heart.
He always wanted to be nice. Kind. Friendly. It made him feel better about himself every time he accidentally took his door off its hinges while trying to open it, or when he’d feel his eyes start burning, quickly closing them to hide the red glow that began when he got frustrated. It made him feel more human, being good.
He could be forgiven for his accidentals as long as he was good.
So, he never pulled on your hair. He’d pick little wildflowers and weave the tiny stems through your braids because they looked pretty. You’d smile and tell him how much you liked the little blossoms, and he’d smile because he made you happy. He did a good job, he was kind. You were beautiful.
It extended into his teen years, too. Always one to be a shoulder to cry on, or offering up help with homework, or making sure to bring his lawnmower over to anyone’s home who needed a hand. Your parents commented on it the summer you’d gone on your annual visit to Smallville, sitting around the table with Mrs. Kent.
“That Clark is growing up to be a good boy,” your mom mentioned, spotting him out in the yard with his Pa and your dad. He lifted the tractor while his Pa reached up with his tools to fix something. “Very helpful.”
“He likes to make sure everyone’s taken care of.” Mrs. Kent grinned.
You leaned up a little, watching Clark for a moment. He’d always been sweet, and very friendly. It was almost odd to see someone so soft spoken and almost shy to display that kind of otherworldly strength. You’d known about it forever. Your parents and the Kents were long-time friends, and they were the only ones to know about the circumstances of Clark’s… adoption. A tiny, little baby who’d dropped from the sky.
You parents hadn’t believed it at first until they’d seen the spacecraft for themselves.
Your dad had gaped, then easily went to help Mr. Kent drag it to an old shed and out of the sight of any potentially-prying eyes. Your mom stared down at little Clark in Mrs. Kent’s arms, her hand placed gently on the swell of her stomach, thinking of her own baby, soon to be born. It was shocking.
More shocking when Clark started growing into his powers.
Now? He seemed to be able to lift anything without a second thought. As evidenced by his casual hold on the giant tractor.
“He’s always been sweet,” you comment softly, not noticing the soft look between your mother and Clark’s ma.
Yours and Clark’s parents had sensed something for years.They’d always thought you two were just the most darling pairing as young kids: sleeping in the same crib as babies, sharing toys as toddlers, splashing in a tiny pop-up pool as a couple of rowdy six-year-olds.
They watched you as teenagers, always glued together when you thought nobody was paying any attention. Even when you’d both graduated high school, you still always came back to the Kent’s farm every summer on your own volition.
By the time you’d each left college, the summer you were pressed to each other’s sides with a couple glasses of wine on the front porch, they were certain of it: you’d end up together.
“So, what have you been doing lately, honey? I hear you're thinking of moving out to Metropolis by our Clark,” Mrs. Kent said, a soft, excited smile on her lips.
You chuckled once. “Yeah. I think I’m going to finish out the year at my job now, and then… yeah. I mean, there are so many great opportunities in Metropolis for writers. Clark is evidence of that.”
“Technically, I’m a journalist,” Clark added with a small smile.
“Dork.”
He just grinned, taking a big bite of his mashed potatoes. Your parents all shared some knowing glances, looking between the two of you. Twenty four years in the making, you would finally be in the exact right position for everything to work. Your mom was practically floating at the idea of planning a wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Kent were buzzing with the notion of grandbabies. Your dad was just happy you’d end up with someone he knew would treat you right. So, it was no surprise that they all felt like the floor had been swept out from under them when you spoke again.
“I’m thinking of it, too, because… well,” you paused for a moment, the whole room seemingly holding their breath. “I mean, my boyfriend has been talking about it, and I think we’re starting to get more serious, actually.”
Murmured questions and half-hearted congratulations were drowned out by Clark hearing his own heart beating in his chest.
Both of your folks had clearly been invested in the idea of the two of you forever. But Clark? He’d never thought to entertain the idea of you being with anybody. He supposed it made sense. You were friendly and beautiful and one of the funniest people he’d ever met. Lovely and, in his eyes, perfect. He’d been telling everyone at work that his life-long family friend was probably going to move nearby soon. He’d been planning in his head all the places he’d get to take you to in the city. Maybe even get your opinion on the suit his Ma was making for him to help people. He still hadn’t decided on a name for this alter-ego yet, and he thought you’d probably have some great ideas.
He’d built it up in his head so much that he’d never factored in that you might have someone besides him in the city. He just plastered on a smile that he hoped you wouldn’t see through and told you he was happy for you. A boyfriend. How… exciting.
January came around quickly. Clark trudged through the snow, finally getting to the door of his apartment building. He got in, shaking the snow off of his clothes and out of his dark hair before taking the elevator up to his unit.
He liked winter. The snow was pretty, he got to go home for Christmas, and crime rates went down a bit in Metropolis. He had some time to relax.
He peeled off his outer layers, setting his glasses careful on the kitchen counter. A warm shower and a cup of chamomile tea later, and he was sitting in his small living room watching an old movie re-run on cable. His phone started buzzing on the table, and he sighed. Duty calls, probably.
He looked down at the screen, and his mood flipped in an instant. He grinned widely when he saw your name flash on the screen, hitting the green answer button.
“Hi!”
He heard you laugh on the other end, it warmed his heart. “Hey, stranger. How’s it going?”
“Good! Y-yeah, good. Watching the snow fall in my apartment right now, it’s so pretty.”
“I bet.”
“Yeah…” he smiled, sinking back into his chair. “Uh, well, how are you? What’s the occasion?”
“I have to have an occasion to call you?”
He chuckled, the sound low and deep in his chest. He felt his cheeks warm. Whenever he talked to you, he often felt like he was still a teenager watching you try and fail to milk his favorite cow on the farm. He could still see you in his mind’s eye, still feeling that soft, fluttering feeling in his chest. Still realizing that you weren’t just a friend, you were a girl. A really pretty girl. A girl that made him feel things that a gentleman could certainly never voice.
“No. You don’t. You just usually do.”
“Touché,” you murmured, sighing softly on the other end of the line. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I just signed a lease in Metropolis. I’m officially coming to the city.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He could hear the smile in your voice. “Yeah, Sam and I are gonna be moving in two weeks.”
“Oh. You and… you’re moving in together, huh?”
“Yeah. He’s been asking for a little while now, and I finally gave in.”
He heard you chuckle, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile about it. He didn’t know Sam. He had no real reason to hate him. But he did.
He’d seen pictures of him on your social media. He’d been caught by his Ma during Christmas zooming in on the man in one photo you’d posted. She just rested her hand on his shoulder, saying something about making him a cup of hot chocolate. Far too much pity in her voice.
“It’s fine, Ma. I’m fine,” he sighed, shutting off his phone.
She just looked at him for a moment. “You were zooming in awful close for someone who’s ‘fine’.”
He huffed. “She always said she didn’t like blonde guys. He’s blonde.”
His Ma did him the service of turning before she let herself chuckle a little. She wasn’t happy about this turn of events either, but… you were happy. She loved you like her own, and couldn’t bring herself to feel too sour about your recent relationship development. She reserved those feelings for whenever your mom brought it up first on their phone calls.
“I was just hoping maybe you could pick me up at the airport?”
“Y-you and Sam?”
“No, just me. Sam is gonna be a few days behind.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can do that. Of course.”
Clark begrudgingly took you to your new apartment two weeks later, helping you unpack and put up your furniture. He wasn’t upset to be helping you, of course. He loved helping you. He’d do anything you asked. He was grumpy about it because your boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to set up the apartment with you. He was supposed to be a few days behind you to tie up some things with his job before he left for Metropolis. But then, he had to spend an extra few days to go see his family out of the blue, and sent you a measly text asking you to unpack everything on your own.
Clark frowned the second you told him that you’d be doing it all yourself with that easy smile. He ignored your honey-sweet voice telling him he didn’t have to stay with you. Yes, he did. If your boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to help set up the apartment you’d share together, Clark certainly wouldn’t let you do it alone.
He felt your eyes on him as he sat on the ground, putting together your coffee table. He ignored it for a while, but eventually he broke down.
“What’re you looking at?” His voice was soft, the smallest twitch of his lip upward giving him away.
“You’re just… you’re a really good guy, Clark. I’m really happy I came here.”
“I’m happy you’re here, too. I’ve missed you,” he mumbled softly, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “It’ll be nice. Seeing you more than once or twice a year.”
You smiled, and his heart beat a little faster again. “Yeah, my mom has been over the moon about it. I think she’s just happy you’ll be around to protect me if I ever need you.”
“Aw, come on. I’m always around when you need me. I can fly anywhere, you know?”
You laughed. “I know. You’re closer now, though. Maybe we can spend more time together, too. That’d be fun.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
“You and Sam will totally get along.”
Clark’s expression fell a little as he got back to work. Sam. He promised himself he’d be nice and give the guy a chance, for you. But he already wasn’t too sure about the guy for a number of reasons. Mostly that he got to you before Clark could work up the nerve. But Clark would be nice. He’d be good.
He was good, he was good, he was good. He told himself over and over again as he sat across from you at your parent’s home. He’d been invited over for a small party for your birthday with your family and his. Your aunts and uncles asked him about his job as a reporter in Metropolis. Your little cousins were drawn to him. Despite not knowing he was the new ‘Superman’, he always seemed to have a pull with kids. Almost like they could sense he was a protector through and through. Normally, he’d be happily indulging all their requests for him to push them on the swings, and he’d chat at length about your aunt’s latest paint-by-numbers piece she was working on. But he was distracted. Horribly and frustratingly distracted.
He watched you as you smiled at Sam, talked to his Ma, listened to your dad’s work stories… but he was spiraling under the surface. One little thing had entirely thrown him off course and had him incessantly reminding himself that he was a kind and rational man. But it was almost like it was staring at him, reminding him that even though you’d grown even closer since you’d moved to his city last year, he was too little too late. A pretty little diamond on your finger.
He glared at it all night. Every time he caught a glance, it filled his chest with something angry and ugly and possessive. Which, of course, only made him feel worse. You weren’t his. You never were. He had no right to be jealous, and yet…
“Engaged, huh?” he said softly, walking up to you as you sat by yourself out on the back deck.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile.
He nodded once, sitting next to you on the step. He sniffed, looking up at the sky.
“Stars are really pretty tonight.”
You hummed in agreement. “Yeah. They’re so bright out here. Not like at the farm, but definitely more than Metropolis.”
He let himself smile once. “Well, if you ever want to visit the farm, say the word. You happen to be friends with a human airplane.”
You laughed at that, touching his forearm. He felt his chest squeeze.
“As much as I appreciate it, I don’t think Sam would be too keen on Superman literally sweeping me off my feet.”
“You could just tell him we were taking a road trip.”
“He wouldn’t like that, either.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “He’s… I don’t think he likes how close you and I have gotten.”
“We’ve been friends since we were babies.”
“I know, Clark. It’s just… We’ve definitely gotten closer since I moved to Metropolis.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. No, of course not. I think he’s just… maybe a little bit jealous.”
Clark snorted, but secretly he preened at that. He liked the idea that he was a threat to your boyfriend. Or– fiancé. He’d never dare admit that. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t kind. But it was the truth.
“Jealous?”
You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Clark.”
“What?” He grinned.
“Like you don’t know.”
His smile faltered for just a moment, shaking his head. “No, I… I actually don’t.”
You sighed. “You’re… you. Like you said, friends since we were babies. We’ve gotten even closer now. You’re… Superman.”
“He doesn’t know I am.”
“No, but he knows you’re huge and attractive–”
Attractive? Clark blushed. He opened his mouth to try and respond without sounding like his stomach was doing cartwheels. But the back door opened.
“Babe?”
You looked up at Sam as he walked out, eyeing you and Clark suspiciously. He frowned at you after a second.
“Hey, honey.”
“You said we could leave at nine. It’s nine.”
Clark raised a brow, finally looking at Sam. He wasn’t too sure about the tone he’d just taken with you.
“Okay, yeah. I just lost track of time, I guess.”
Sam crossed his arms. “Uh huh.”
“Hey. Good to see you again, Sam,” Clark said, rising to his feet, helping you up before he reached out to shake Sam’s hand.
Clark sized the man up as Sam attempted a hard handshake. Clark almost smiled as Sam squeezed his hand in a faulty show of dominance. It wasn’t his fault, of course. He didn’t realize he was trying to intimidate Superman himself. He could see the frown forming on Sam’s face as his hand was practically engulfed by Clark’s.
You raised a brow, seeing your fiancé clearly annoyed by the man you’d grown up with. You weren’t particularly keen on a dick-measuring contest starting up, so you touched Sam’s shoulder.
“Baby, can you go start the car? I’m just going to say bye to everyone real quick.”
He huffed, muttering something you didn’t quite catch under his breath. It wasn’t long before you were settling into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt in an uncomfortable silence. You probably should’ve known better than to ask, but you couldn’t help yourself.
“Is everything okay?” You spoke up once he pulled onto the road, driving towards the hotel.
He let out a harsh breath. “You really have to ask?”
“I don’t–”
“Seriously?” He shook his head, gripping the steering wheel. “You were alone with him. Again.”
“Wh– Clark?”
“No, your dad,” he snapped, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I don’t like the guy.”
“He’s a good person.”
“He wants to fuck you.”
“Sam.”
He shot back with your own name, then fell silent for a moment. You twisted the ring on your finger. He’d proposed only a few days ago, shortly before your flight out here. You were elated, so excited to tell your family. You didn’t think the night would end like this.
“I don’t get why you insist on being around that asshole. He clearly wants to get in your pants, and you just– You obviously don’t respect me. Why do you need to be around him? Am I too boring for you?”
“What? No, of course not–”
“I’m not tall enough? Not build like a fucking building, so you have to entertain the guy who is? Let him think that he has a shot so you can stare at him and fantasize about fucking a guy with muscles? Is that what it is?”
“Baby, no. Please.”
He shook his head. “You said you liked how I look.”
“I do. That has nothing to do with this at all.”
“I get it. You’ve only dated taller guys, bigger ones. Maybe this wouldn’t be an issue if you lost a little weight.”
You scoffed in disbelief, tears pricking your eyes against your wishes. He’d been mean before. He was sensitive and sometimes said stuff he didn’t mean during arguments. But that felt like a line being crossed.
“Sam.”
“I’m just saying. I’m not a fucking body builder, but I’m not weak. You’re just–”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
He huffed, muttering under his breath, “so fucking sensitive.”
You were quiet for a minute. “Clark is my friend.”
“Sure he is.”
“He is.”
“Have you two fucked?”
You frowned, lip quivering. “No.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“I don’t want to marry a fucking slut, is why! I put that ring on your finger, and days later I find you alone with the guy you know I have a problem with.”
You felt the tears before you could stop them. You stopped talking, sitting silently with your thoughts as he turned up the music to drown out the sound of your crying. It wasn't until you reached the hotel that he finally turned down the music, huffing a sigh as he looked at you.
“Why are you crying?”
You looked at him incredulously. “You called me a slut.”
“No, I said I didn’t want to marry one. Babe…” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t call you that. You’re putting words in my mouth, and I really don’t appreciate that.”
“I don’t… I just don’t understand why you’re being so mean to me.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m asking you why you insist on hurting my feelings. I don’t ever go sneak off behind your back with other girls, so why do you think it’s okay to do that to me?”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“Oh, well sorry for not using perfect fucking wording. You know what I mean.”
You let out a slow breath. “He’s just a friend. He’s always been a friend.”
“I’m going to be your husband. Is that not more important, or am I fucking stupid?”
“Sam–”
“Just… whatever. Fine. Do what you want, but don’t pretend you wouldn’t be all pissy if the roles were reversed. Maybe I’ll reconnect with my high school girlfriend, since she was such a good friend when I was a kid, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, now you’re sorry? Now that I’m proving that you’re being inconsiderate?”
“I just said I’m sorry. Can we not do this anymore?”
“Uh huh. Get all weepy and apologetic now that you feel caught.”
You jumped as he slammed his door shut after telling you to go to the room when you were done crying. You stared at the hotel building for too long, trying to make yourself stop. It would be fine, you kept telling yourself it would be totally fine. He’d been angry before and gotten over it. He didn’t mean everything he said, he was just upset and probably feeling a bit insecure. You took some deep breaths, steeling yourself against the emotions that choked you up and threatened to steal away all of your air supply. You’d be fine. It would be fine.
Clark stopped seeing you so often after the night of your birthday dinner. He figured it was probably because you were engaged now. Planning a wedding was a lot of work, and you… You had different priorities now. You had a fiancé, he wasn’t just a boyfriend anymore. Things were different.
He took in a small breath, gathering all of the courage he could manage when he showed up at your apartment with a gift basket in hand. He realized he’d never properly congratulated you two, too caught up in the sick feeling brewing in his stomach the moment he had seen your ring for the first time. He rang your doorbell, waiting patiently for a while before the door got flung open.
“What are you doing here?”
Clark blinked, a bit surprised at the aggressive tone in Sam’s voice as he stood in the doorway. He cleared his throat, looking past Sam to see into the apartment, hoping to catch a glance of you instead of the guy who clearly didn’t like him.
“Uh…” Clark looked back at Sam, lifting up the basket. “Brought a gift. To congratulate you two on the engagement. There’s, like, muffins, a fancy soap, wine, some other stuff–”
“Great. Thanks.”
Sam grabbed the basket, and started shutting the door. Clark’s brows shot up, his hand pressing against the wood before he could think twice about it. Sam scoffed, looking up at Clark like he’d just personally kicked him in the shins.
“The fuck are you–”
Clark just mumbled out your name. “Is she home? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“She’s in the shower.”
“Oh. Could you maybe ask her to just… Just text me?”
Sam huffed once. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Pardon me?” Clark looked at him, astounded.
“Take a hint, Kent. She’s mine.”
“I–” Clark shook his head, profound confusion taking over any urge to be angry. “What are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t want to see you. Newsflash, dickhead–”
“Sam,” you stated, staring at him with wide eyes as you cut in.
He turned, rolling his eyes at the intrusion. He hadn’t heard you come out of the bathroom, and the glare he leveled at you as you stood there in your towel had you nervous.
“Go put some fucking clothes on. He was just leaving.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Clark snapped, then looked at you, bewildered you’d be with someone like him. Your name fell softly from his lips.
You sniffed, hurt and embarrassed. “Sam, stop it.”
He slammed the door in Clark’s face, just before tossing the gift basket on the ground. Clark swallowed, flinching as he heard Sam’s raised voice through the door. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just barge in. But he couldn’t let this keep happening to you, and he had a bad feeling Sam wasn’t doing this out of nowhere.
He made a decision. If he couldn’t get to you as Clark, he knew how he could.
You walked out of your building, about to head off on your walk to work. It was sunny and beautiful out, but it was torture against your tired eyes. You started trudging down the sidewalk when there was a sudden shadow.
You looked up to see bright blue and red clouding your vision.
“Ma’am.”
You frowned, looking up at him with furrowed brows as he descended, his feet hitting the sidewalk. “What are you doing?”
He dropped his Superman voice, leaning in a little closer. “I just wanted to see you.”
“Cl–Superman. I can’t. Not now,” you muttered back, glancing towards your apartment building like you were about to get into trouble.
“After work. I’ll wait outside. Just… just for a little bit?”
You begrudgingly agreed when he assured you it wouldn’t take long. So, you found yourself sitting next to him on the rooftop of the Daily Planet. He was quiet, but you knew better. Through the silence you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“Why are you with him?” He finally asked, voice soft.
“I love him.”
Clark felt his jaw tick. “He treats you like garbage.”
“You just caught him in a bad moment.”
“Every one of his moments are bad, from what I’ve seen.”
You crossed your arms. “We’re engaged. I’m not just going to break things off cause he was kind of mean to you the other day.”
“I don’t care how he treats me. He was awful to you.”
“I… I know, okay? I get it. I just…”
“I miss you.”
“Clark.”
“I mean it. August is just around the corner. Ma says you don’t plan on coming back to the farm this summer,” he mentioned, fiddling with his hands.
You swallowed. Okay, now you felt caught.
“Sam has a work thing.”
“And you have to stay behind for that?”
He had a point. You knew he did. But you’d never had a serious relationship before this. You’d dated, sure. Had some long-term things, but they never lasted. They never ended in an engagement. Legally, you weren’t locked in yet. But it still felt like you had an obligation. It was… complicated. Sam had a way of making you feel like you should stay.
“He didn’t want me going alone.”
“You wouldn’t be alone.”
“Being with you wouldn’t exactly ease his nerves,” you mutter.
He reached over, taking your hand in his. You knew you shouldn’t let him, you knew it felt too good. It made your heart beat in a way it shouldn’t. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You looked up at him, his face unobscured by those silly frames he always had to wear now. Your eyes traced the familiar slope of his nose, the hue of his eyes, the way his jaw moved when he was holding back from saying more.
“Please?” Clark whispered, giving you those puppy dog eyes that you’d always given in to since you were little.
After several arguments with Sam, and a hell of a lot of convincing that it was just because your parents wanted to see you, you were walking up to the front door of the Kent’s farm house. You swallowed, shoving down the nerves that you’d somehow incur your fiancé’s wrath just by standing there. You reached up to knock, but the door opened before you had the chance. Mrs. Kent smiled brightly at you as she pulled you into a tight hug.
It felt like home, being at the Kent’s for the summer again. Even if the ‘summer’ was really just a week or so. Your parents were happy to have you around again, especially since you hadn’t visited much since you’d moved to Metropolis. Mrs. Kent had a million questions about your upcoming wedding and your fiancé, and Clark bit his cheek to avoid telling everyone how he acted behind closed doors.
But the second he got you alone again, he couldn't help himself any longer.
“You can’t marry him,” he said with a sigh, leaning on the doorframe of his childhood bedroom. You always stayed in his room, and this time, instead of sleeping on the floor next to his bed, he took the couch in the living room.
You glared at him. “Clark.”
“I’m trying to look out for you, here.” His shoulders dropped as he walked in, watching you unpack your things in the top two drawers of his dresser as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You deserve to be happy.”
You were quiet, turning that over in your head several times before you found your voice again. You turned around, leaning against the dresser as you looked at him.
“It isn’t that simple.”
“You didn’t say any vows yet. It could be that simple.”
“But it isn’t,” you assert with a groan. You sit next to him on the bed. “I made a commitment. Sure, it’s not on paper just yet. But I’m not a quitter, and Sam… You don’t get it. I can’t just leave him.”
He sighed softly, just looking at you. He always looked at you like that, you realized. Like he was trying to memorize every square centimeter of your face. You breathed gently, chest rising and falling with each inhale. It was… quiet. In a good way. It always felt that way with Clark.
“I’m happy I came,” you say, changing the subject.
He looked a little disappointed, but nodded. “I am, too. Thank you. For coming.”
“Thanks for convincing me, Superman,” you said, nudging his shoulder with a small smile.
“Oh, quit.”
“What?”
He smiles when he sees you grinning back at him. “You keep making fun of the name.”
“It’s kinda silly, to be fair.”
“Alright, alright. It’s a little silly. But totally true,” he muttered with a wide grin, subtly flexing just to make you laugh.
“Cocky bastard,” you chuckle.
He hummed once, happily. This felt normal. Right. Like it should. He felt a funny feeling in his stomach when your head dropped carefully on his shoulder, and he let his hand rest on your knee in return.
“I’ve really missed you.”
“We still see each other,” you said, glancing up at him.
“I know, but… Not enough. It’s like right when we started really getting close and spending more time together, you… you kinda disappeared on me cause of him.”
“I didn’t disappear.”
“May as well have.”
You sat with that for a few moments, then lifted your head. You looked at him, close enough to really see each and every little fleck of gold in his bright blue eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”
“Kinda is.”
“No. It isn’t,” he reaffirmed.
You took in a slow breath. It felt nice, good even, not to be blamed. You’d grown too accustomed to taking the hit for everything that could feasibly be pinned on you. Even some things that didn’t seem like they made much sense ended up being your fault. Talked into blame over and over. You let your eyes trail over Clark’s face again. You’d always cared about him. Always had a crush. But it never seemed to go anywhere. Every lingering glance, every time you’d spent your evening laying together under the stars in the summertime, those few times during the year he and his parents would drop by for a surprise visit… It never led to anything.
Butterflies in your stomach, Clark’s blushed cheeks, and your mom asking what you two had talked about on your trip to the swimming hole. That’s all it ever amounted to. He never made a move. You never worked up the courage to tell him you liked him. Now, you were constantly under surveillance from your fiancé, noticing that you two were close. Maybe you stayed with Sam because underneath it all you were guilty. Or maybe he was just there when nobody else was a couple years prior. You didn’t really know why you stayed, only that you promised you would.
It didn’t feel like enough at that moment, though.
You leaned in before you knew it, lips pressing to Clark’s like you’d always wanted to. You heard him make a soft, surprised noise. But he didn’t pull back. Not right away.
You let yourself melt into it, hand against his stubbled cheek.
He pulled back first, his eyes wide and shocked, muttering apologies as if he’d been the one to kiss you first.
You had a long week after that.
It was almost a month before you spoke again. One text from him, simply checking in. Neither of you talked about the kiss after it happened, but you never stopped thinking about it. But that one text turned to at least a handful every day. A quick hello turned into meeting up at cafés, telling Sam you were going out with a girl friend from work. Shared glances turned into hugs that lingered for far too long in Clark’s living room.
You sat on the chair in his apartment, and he leaned back on his arms on the ottoman across from you. You laughed, sharing stories from childhood and nightmares you’d dealt with at work. You finally picked up a few freelance ghost writing gigs on the side, but you were still stuck peddling wedding dresses on the side at a local boutique. Clark had really made his way at the Daily Planet. You were proud.
“You really need to get an actual couch. This sad, lonely chair in front of the tv just screams single-guy bachelor pad,” you mentioned with a snorted laugh.
“To be fair, I am a single guy.” He chuckles.
“Mm…” you hummed softly, nodding once as your smile faltered a little. Right. Single guy friend. Available guy friend. Just not to you. “I told Sam I was with Rebecca tonight, but honestly I don’t think he even listened.”
Clark swallowed. His guilt built and built every time Sam was brought up. He couldn’t stop thinking about you kissing him in his childhood bedroom. He’d always wanted to kiss you, he’d wondered what it would feel like since forever. He just didn’t expect it to happen while you were engaged to somebody else. He couldn’t stand Sam at all, but he didn’t feel right about moving in on you while you were with somebody. It wasn’t right.
But you were so sweet. So pretty. So… taken.
“Maybe you shouldn’t keep lying to him. About where you are.”
You raised a brow. “Clark. Come on, he’d never let me out of the house again if he found out I was hanging out with you.”
“That’s not right.”
“Just… let me have this. It’s working. He’s been… happier. I get to see you. It’s a win-win.”
“But you’re lying to him.”
“Why does that matter?”
He let out a breath, his jaw clenching. He wished he had a good answer to that. One that you would listen to. But if he did get through to you and make you listen, he might not see you again. He couldn’t risk that.
He scooted closer, holding out his hands until you placed yours in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, one of them snagging on the diamond on your hand. He looked at it, twisting it a little.
“Can’t believe you’re gonna get married.”
“It’s… so weird. We were like five years old yesterday.”
He huffed a short laugh. “Yeah. Now you’re… all grown up.”
“So are you.”
He smiled a little, looking up at you. He tried, he really tried not to let his eyes drop. But you were looking at him the same way you did when you’d kissed him. His gaze fell to your lips, a sinking feeling in his stomach and a stirring in his pants made his heart race a little faster.
But… no.
He couldn’t.
You left not long after with a smile that covered up your disappointment. You didn’t exactly go over to his place with the intent to cheat on your fiancé. You knew that was wrong. You knew you should end things. But… Sam had a way of making you feel like you couldn’t leave. He’d all but said so with how many times he reminded you how lucky you were that he was so forgiving, that he put up with you and your mood swings. You knew you shouldn’t put up with him, but how do you get out from under someone's shoe? You hadn’t yet figured it out.
How do you leave someone you thought would be your forever?
How do you tell the person who’s always been there that you really want them?
Does it make you a bad person for not wanting to have to think about it? It certainly didn’t feel good or right, that much you knew. But you also knew that kissing Sam had never felt like kissing Clark.
Months passed. You still couldn’t stay away from him. At every chance you were making some excuse to sneak out of the apartment to meet with Clark. He’d bring you to all of your favorite places, never letting you pay a dime. He rationalized that if he did, you risked Sam finding out. If he paid, it wouldn’t be reflected on you at all.
It helped that Sam had taken a third shift position. His pay increased, which was great for him. He was around a lot less, which was great for you. It started getting riskier, though. You’d begun inviting Clark to your apartment, and he’d only slip away once you fell asleep against his chest. You’d wake to Sam barging into your bedroom rather than Clark’s head on the pillow next to yours, trying to mask the obvious disappointment you felt each time it happened.
Things with him hadn’t gotten better. Less frequent, sure, with him being gone more often. But he was a master at picking fights, and at winning them. Each time you so much as suggested something he didn’t like, it was your fault. You were unkind, inconsiderate. He’d thrown around insults, but never directly. It kept the blame off of him on a technicality. It was exhausting.
So you’d hide away in your mind, covering up your sorrow using Clark’s arms as a shield.
But everyone has their breaking point.
“I just don’t know what to do,” you sighed, leaning into Clark’s side on your couch.
Clark glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You know what would change things.”
“You can’t expect me to do that.”
“You’re miserable.”
“Not when I’m with you,” you try a small joke.
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. “I just wish you’d… I wish you would move on. You deserve better than him. He doesn’t treat you well.”
You reached for his hand, playing with his fingers. He watched you do it, trying not to focus on the ring that was still ever-present.
“Are you really going to marry him?”
You didn’t answer. He looked at you.
“I don’t know. You could always object. It would be super dramatic.”
He huffed once. “That isn’t funny.”
You shrugged, tracing his face with your eyes yet again. As always, the gaze settled on his lips. He wet them once, drawing your attention even further. But the moment you leaned in, he backed away.
“Don’t.”
You went to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it. He stood, hands on his hips as he paced in your living room. It’s not that he didn’t want to kiss you, he just didn’t want it to happen because you were sad. He wanted you to kiss him because you loved him. He lingered in front of the door of the balcony. You called his name once, but he didn’t respond.
His back was turned, his eyes on the city below. It always needed him, there was always a way he could pick up the pieces for Metropolis. He didn’t know how to pick up the pieces for you without crossing some kind of line that he wasn’t sure he could live with.
He wanted you. More than anything. But not if he couldn’t keep you.
You watched him as he went through it all in his head. The way he tensed and relaxed as the thoughts cycled through. His back a wide expanse that covered your view from the door of your balcony. You were on the verge of begging. You weren’t above the action. You just needed something, needed him. So you sank to your knees silently, looking up at him.
“Clark,” you whispered, eyes trained on the back of his head.
“Yeah?”
You didn’t answer, just knelt there, waiting. He finally turned, his throat bobbing as he looked down at you. You stared up at him with wide, wanting eyes. On your knees like it was a form of worship. He opened his mouth, but words never came.
“Please.”
A short, breathy sound escaped his lips. “Honey, don’t–”
“Please. Please, Clark. You’ve always been there for me.”
He watched in awe and horror as you crawled closer, hands on his thighs with your wide, sparkling gaze on his.
“We can’t,” he whispered back as if it hurt him to say. You noticed the way his eyes went glossy. “I can’t. Not like this.”
“I need you.”
“No.”
“Yes.” You nuzzled your cheek against his leg, his body tensing as he tried to will away the erection straining against his jeans. “You’re always so sweet to me. You always have been. You always look out for me and you protect me and–”
“And I can’t help you cheat on someone.”
“You think what we’ve been doing already is totally kosher?”
He froze, looking down at you with a furrowed brow. He hadn’t touched you, he hadn’t crossed that line other than one measly kiss that he hadn’t even initiated. What had he done? Why was it wrong to be there for you? Someone had to make you feel special. To be considerate, to make you laugh, to hold you when you needed it. It wasn’t romantic. Not overtly.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Clark,” you said with a soft voice, shaking your head. “You can’t seriously tell me all of this hasn’t meant anything.”
“Not… not nothing. Just not that.”
“So you don’t like me? I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you lean into me at every chance. We’ve practically been dating the past few months. I think we already crossed that line.”
He murmured your name with closed eyes, his jaw tense. He didn’t want to think about that. He wasn’t that kind of person. He wouldn’t ever help someone cheat.
But he had.
He didn’t want to admit it, but you were right. The way he held you, the way he spoke with you, the way he looked at you… none of it had been friendly as of late. But if he never touched you, did it really count? He wished it didn’t. He wished it had happened in a different way. That you were single and free, and he had swept you off your feet. That he’d have kissed you on the first date, not that you’d leaned in first in his childhood home because you were lonely and desperate and knew he wouldn’t back away. He’d have taken you to bed after the fifth or sixth date, making sure you felt as special as he believed you to be. He’d have gone home to his parents, telling them he finally got the girl.
He didn’t think it would be like this. He didn’t feel like the good guy this time.
“I can’t do this. I can’t. You’re right, it’s gone too far already, and I can’t cross this line.”
Your lip quivered, face still pressed to his thigh as your eyes closed. You were broken down, tired, hurt… and you wanted this more than you’d wanted anything before. You wanted to feel loved. Not blamed.
“I’m so tired, Clark.”
“I know. I know you are,” he mumbled, voice low. He sank down with you on the floor, gathering you into his arms. “I know, but I can’t do that. You can’t ask me that.”
A rattling breath left your lungs, your face pressed to his neck. “I… I’ll leave him.”
Clark paused, stilling entirely. He hardly took a breath.
“You’ll…what?”
“I’ll leave him. I promise I will.”
His eyes found yours, searching them for something. Some kind of confirmation that you weren’t lying. That you’d actually do it.
“You will?”
“Yes. I promise I will, I just… Give me a reason to.”
He nearly whimpered, pressing his forehead to yours silently. He sniffed, feeling the tears on his cheeks before he really realized he’d begun crying. He didn’t mean to. He was just overcome with emotion. Guilt, joy, need, love.
“Promise?”
You nodded, reaching up to wipe the tears from under his eyes. “Promise.”
He finally gave in. His hands framed your face as his lips met yours. You weren’t in the clear yet, but you promised you would be. He held onto that promise with an iron grip. He let you lead him to the bedroom you’d shared with your fiancé. He wondered how many times he’d taken you here. If you even enjoyed it, or if you faked it and had to take care of yourself later in the shower. He tried putting it all out of his head as he watched you sprawl out on the bed, peeling off your clothes. He blindly tugged all of his off, spurred on once you were bare, your legs spread for him. Just for him.
He felt himself puff up with pride when your eyes locked onto his length, throbbing and leaking for you. Begging to be inside of you. But not yet.
His eyes were locked on your face, your chest, your neck. He watched your every movement and every small breath from between your legs, grinding himself against the bed as he tasted you. He couldn’t get enough. He knew you’d be perfect, but this was like heaven. His eyes fluttered when your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into your cunt.
He moaned, circling your entrance with one thick finger. He teased until you were whining and whimpering so much he was sure you’d start crying at any moment from wanting. The feeling was mutual for him. He finally sunk his finger inside of you, eyes locked on your face as you gasped and writhed under him. He groaned into you when you moaned out his name over and over. He liked that. He liked being the one you were begging for.
He fit another finger into you, trying to prepare you for his cock. He wanted it to feel as good as possible, to leave a stellar first impression. He hoped you’d let him reshape you to every vein and ridge and inch of him over time. He hoped you’d never take anyone else.
It wasn’t long before you were over the edge, body convulsing and soaking his face as your orgasm hit you hard. He sucked hard on your clit, forcing it out of you with such tender care that you were certain you saw the light. You pushed his head away from you after a moment, sufficiently overstimulated.
“Good?” He looked at you, face searching for approval.
You nodded easily. “So good. Need you.”
He let out a breath, accepting a condom you’d pulled out of your nightstand. It was a tight fit, but he managed to get it on, gazing down between your legs, so wet and inviting, drawing him in. He dragged himself through your wetness, his tip leaking precum into the condom already. He almost lost himself when his eyes trailed up your body, landing on your face.
“Please,” you whispered.
“Almost there, baby. Almost. Gotta go slow.”
“You’re so big.”
“I know, honey. Shh…”
He pressed his tip in, a choked sound in his throat as he watched you swallow him. Your soft, needy sounds were music to his ears. He pushed in further, little by little, torn between watching your face and your cunt. He was halfway in when he collapsed on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, his face in your neck. His lips left sloppy kisses along the slope of your shoulder, shallow thrusts beginning to open you up for him.
“Oh, fuck… just like that, Clark.”
“Okay,” he whispered back, nodding.
He tried keeping it slow, only pushing in further when he was sure you could take it. He was almost seated entirely when you both heard a soft snapping noise.
You looked confused for a second, but when you noticed the shocked expression on Clark’s face, it was no longer a mystery: the condom broke. But he didn’t stop. His moans grew louder, needier, as he felt all of you. Your warmth choking out his length.
“M’sorry. I’m sorry, it feels too good. Don’t hate me,” he whined, sheathing himself fully as he continued pushing against you despite the break. His hips moved faster, each thrust pushing your body into the mattress. “So good.”
You moaned in the back of your throat, hands moving over his shoulders and back, scratching your nails through his hair. He shuddered against you as he felt the sharp drag against his scalp, cock jumping inside of you.
“Baby, m’sorry,” he repeated, his tears soaking your skin. He didn’t just mean the condom breaking. He was sorry for all of it. For not being with you sooner. For being the other man. “I’m sorry.”
“D-don’t. Fuck. Don’t be sorry, Clarkie. Don’t be. This is perfect. I need it. I need you.”
He let out a shaking breath as he ground his hips against yours, relishing in the way your walls clung to him. He felt locked inside of you, like he couldn't escape you if he tried. Maybe he couldn’t. He’d always wanted this, to be close to you. He dreamed of it more times than he could count, ruining his sheets by the time he woke up, his skin burning with the ghost of your hands on him. Nothing compared to the real thing.
The sound of your soft breaths, tiny, sweet noises falling from your lips every time he thrusted into you. It was everything he wanted, and it was all wrong. He groaned, dragging his teeth up your neck. His hand pushed your arm up onto the pillows beneath your head, his eyes glancing upward. His thrusts became a little sharper when he saw that terrible little ring on your finger sparkling at him.
“Clark…” you moaned, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.
He looked down at you, a soft whine in the back of his throat. The girl he’d loved forever. He finally had you, but… he didn’t. Not yet. He swallowed, kissing your lips once before he moved his hand over yours. He felt for the stone sticking out on the band of the ring, closing his fingers around it. He tugged, putting in a little effort to pull it off of your finger. You opened your eyes, seeing his brows furrowed after he’d taken your ring off. Oh.
You watched, only a few moans leaving your throat instead of words that probably should’ve told him to stop as he tossed the ring towards your closet.
“Tell me I’m better.”
“What?”
He grunts. “Tell me I’m better. I know you better, I can please you better than he can. I know I can. I kn–oh. I know it. Am I bigger?”
“Y-yeah. Yes, you’re bigger.”
“I’m better?”
“So much better, baby.”
Soft groans left him. He fucked into you faster, harder, but still like he loved you more than anything. He blinked away tears again, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed over your cheeks and lips.
“M’close,” you breathed out.
“I know. I can feel it. I can hear your heart.”
“Gonna cum.”
“I know, baby.”
He moved his hips more intentionally, trying hard to hit that soft spot in you each and every time. His breathing sped up, his lips parted as he watched you come undone from his cock. He couldn’t imagine anything better than this.
“M’gonna cum,” you moaned again.
“Yes. Yes, you can cum, baby. Cum for me. Please, I want to feel you.”
You whined, voice loud and broken as you finished for the second time that night, squeezing his dick hard. He gasped, eyes fluttering as he watched your face twist in pleasure. Pleasure he gave to you. You’d never felt anything quite like it. Not like this.
“Baby… shoot. I’m…”
“Don’t pull out.”
Clark’s eyes fell to yours, shining. “What?”
“Don’t pull out, please.”
“The condom broke.”
“I know.”
Clark shattered, tears falling again, the drops landing on your face as he held himself up above you, his forehead pressed to yours. You felt him tense, spilling inside of you with a cry of your name over and over again. You tasted the salt of his tears on your lips, his hips still grinding against yours.
“Oh… I… I love you. I love you.”
“What?” you whimpered.
Shit. Clark shuddered, finally stilling on top of you. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not right now.
You breathed heavily under the weight of his body, hands still around his shoulders.
“Clark?”
“I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You… did you mean it, though?”
His lip was pulled between his teeth as he leaned back up, looking at you flushed and gorgeous underneath him. Of course he meant it.
“Yes. I mean it.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t mean to say it, though, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” You smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead.
He sighed against your lips as you kissed him again, letting himself melt into your touch.
He spent the next few days in a flurry of emotions. He hardly slept, he was sloppy at work, distracted as Superman. He told you he loved you, and you kissed him. But you didn’t say it back. You told him you’d break things off with Sam, but he didn’t know if you actually had or not. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it had felt like to touch you.
He waited almost a week before he heard from you again. His phone rang in his pocket on his walk home, and he quickly fished it out. He breathed out your name as he answered, pressing the device to his ear. You greeted him back.
“We should… we should talk. If you’re free tonight.”
He gulped. “G-good news or bad news?”
“Your place? Around eight?”
He agreed, his stomach doing cartwheels. He didn’t know what to make of this. He hoped that you were coming to tell him it was over with Sam. He was terrified that you would tell him you couldn’t.
He did his rounds after work as Superman, intervening in every tiny dispute he heard across the city just to kill the time. To try to not think about it. He finally got home, cleaned every square inch of his apartment, and took a long shower.
It seemed like forever before he heard your soft knock on the door of his apartment. He rushed over, pulling the door open quickly. A hard breath left his mouth when he looked down to see you toting along a duffel bag and a suitcase.
“Oh, thank goodness,” he breathed, pulling you into his arms. “You did it?”
“Yes.”
He tilted your head up, lips against yours before you could blink twice. You let him pull you inside, his arms around your waist to hold you against his body. Your arms circled his neck, your bags left by his front door that he kicked closed.
His entire being was consumed. All he could feel and think was you, you, you. Over and over again. All night long.
You woke to the sun streaming through the window, groggy and mentally preparing for the slam of a door invading your ears. But it never came. What did come was Clark’s arms around your waist, his chest pressed to your back.
“Good morning,” he whispered, hearing your breathing shift as you woke.
You turned in his arms, kissing him. “Good morning.”
“A-are you okay?”
“I’m so… so happy.”
He smiled brightly, kissing you once more. You leaned back, watching his face for a minute. He looked at you in the softest way imaginable. Like he loved you. Because he did.
“I don’t want to be presumptuous, but… would you maybe want to go out with me?”
You chuckled. “Yeah. Yes, I’d really like that.”
“Good,” he said, his voice dreamy and deep. “I’ll, uh… I’ll go make us some coffee, okay?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
He started moving, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
I think about mean!Simon not wanting you to leave his place after staying at his place for too so long.
He’s very good at playing house with you, from cooking dinner and you washing dishes, hours spent in his arms and laughing at his corny jokes, trying your best to kick him out the bathroom while you go to the bathroom or do your hair. Your little conversations to yourself as he passes the room you might be in, finding you blasting music and going through photos. Whisky brown eyes glued to your thighs in his shirt that you’re wearing. The man likes the fact that he can come home to you, let you talk his head off or vice versa. Slugger, his dog, is more than happy to have two parents rather than one.
So when it’s time for you to go home— why is that even a thought that crossed you mind?
Simons mid bite of his sandwich when his ears catch the ‘thud’ of one of your duffle bags full of clothes is dropinh to the door.
His eyebrows are knitted together when he sees you coming down the stairs with another duffle, “Tho’ y’were jokin about leavin kitty.”
You bite back a smile, cheeks growing warm, “I can’t stay here forever Si, I gotta wash my clothes!”
“‘Ve got a washer ‘nd dryer.”
“I can’t wear the same clothes for ever! My closet is calling me.”
“Shops callin us then, yeah? Can get ya new clothes.”
You giggle through a groan, “Simon!” 
The rugged man is already pulling you by the waist and into his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He can’t say it, won’t say the words ‘don’t go’ or ‘I’ll miss you’ formally. But it bleeds through everything so blatantly, you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Rubbing his broad and scared back. Your fingers glide through his blonde locks of hair, scratching his scalp. “Why’re you bein cute, huh? so big ‘n bein cute.“
It’s got his heart pounding so loud, he lets out an incoherent grumble, as to quiet his own heart. Such a baffling yet peculiar feeling that the man has only groan more and more fond of with each passing day with you. Before you can even realize it, you’re being thrown over Simons shoulder that makes you yelp out. Slapping at his back to put you down, which he does, on the couch, not hesitating to lay atop of you and inhale your scent.
“You’re bein a fucking brat Simon, come on!” You giggle, it’s exactly how you ended up staying another week. Simon lifting you off your feet and taking back to bed because, ‘it’s too late to drive at night’ when it was only 6pm, and then in the morning, ‘it’s rainin too much’ when it was only drizzling.
Today’s no different, now, sandwiched between his chest and and the couch, head resting on his bicep. Letting him wrap his strong arms around you, so easily leaning into the soft touch of his calloused fingers at the back of your nape, your eyes closing.
“Is this how you usually treat the other girls around you?” You tease ever so lightly, not even expecting an answer.
He gruffly answers, distinct, “Why would I want anyone else ‘ere but you?”
And oh, how that alone shouldnt make your stomach flip like that, shouldn’t make you hide your face in his chest to hide a silly smile, wanting to run into an open field laughing.
“This is your answer then,” he hums, soft pink lips pressing to your temple, “you’ll stay.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.” You say, another kiss falling to the apple of your cheek, your nose, your other cheek.
“ ‘S not.”
You hold onto him tighter, letting out a soft giggle between his kisses, “Agh, then I don’t know, got shit to do—“
“—Don’t be a bloody pain kitten, just stay.”
You feign contemplation for a moment, making the brute of a man fucking pout. Nuzzling his face into between the crook of your neck.
“…One more night couldn’t hurt, I guess.”
One more night, my ass. Simon thinks.
How about ‘move in.’
a/n: I could stare at your back allll dayyyyyyy, I could stare at your baAAack all DAAAAAAAYYYYYY
━ nsfw :: cw - mmf
⤷ both of your boyfriends eat you out at the same time ‹𝟹
You were spread out on the bed like a feast, legs shoved wide open as your two boyfriends buried their faces between your thighs. They were absolutely feral for your pussy. One boyfriend shoved his tongue deep inside your dripping hole, fucking you with it in messy, hungry strokes while the other latched onto your swollen clit and sucked hard. They kept aggressively bumping heads, growling and shoving at each other like they were fighting over who got to devour you first.
“Fuck, she tastes so fucking good,” one of them groaned, the deep vibration making your clit throb. The other pushed his face in right beside him, their tongues sliding sloppily together as they both licked and sucked at your soaked folds. They were making out with each other right against your pussy — tongues tangling, swapping your juices back and forth in wet, filthy kisses while they ate you alive. It was so nasty.
Thick strings of your cream and their spit were dripping down your ass as they devoured you. One would suck noisily on your clit while the other tongue-fucked your cunt, then they’d switch, sometimes pulling back just to spit on your pussy before diving back in. Both of them were moaning and grunting loudly into your cunt like starving animals, the sounds wet and obscene. Their stubble scraped against your sensitive skin as they fought for every drop.
One boyfriend locked his mouth around your clit and sucked hard, flicking his tongue rapidly while shoving two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them against your g-spot. The other kept his tongue flat and wide, licking messily from your asshole all the way up to your clit. You were shaking, thighs squeezing around their heads as you got closer. “Don’t stop— fuck, I’m gonna cum—” you cried, grinding desperately against their faces.
They went even harder. One sucked viciously on your clit while the other tongue-fucked you deep and fast, both of them moaning and growling into your pussy. The overwhelming pleasure hit you like a freight train. You came hard, gushing all over their tongues as they fought to drink every drop, licking and slurping noisily through your orgasm.
Even after you started twitching from overstimulation, they kept going — lazily licking up every creamy drop, occasionally kissing each other with your cum still coating their tongues and dripping down their chins. When they finally pulled back, their faces were a shiny, fucked-out mess, lips swollen and glistening.
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
“s’too much sweetheart— h-hah..” you’ve been overstimulating him for the past 30 minutes, your right hand covered in your husbands slick. he’s laying in between your legs, head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands latch firmly onto your plump thighs.
he had come home from work clearly frustrated with whatever went on inside his workplace, you just wanted to give him somethin’ to cool off after a hard day at work! “nuh uh.. s’not enough, you’re being soo good for me kennnn.” your free hand threads fingers through his silky hair as your sultry voice throws him for a loop. he truly underestimated how filthy his little wife was.
he’s planting delicate kisses on your neck while he’s huffing out shallow breaths, you continue to jerk his lengthy cock, milking whatever he has left inside of him. “f-fuck nngh m’gonna cum again- mmf,” he’s moaning out — pleading even, you’ve put a hand tightly over his mouth, silencing his loud moans. “yeah? you’re being so loudd.. heh- c’mon give it to me kentoo” you giggle, fisting his cock while his leaky tip oozes out beads of pre-cum.
his hands are gripping your thighs while he bucks his hips into your hand, chasing his orgasm. the room is filled with obscene noises and muffled moans, you move your hand from his mouth upwards to his eyes, blinding him. “mmngh- please p-please yeah.. d-don’t stop shiiit!” he groans, tilting his head back as the coil deep in his stomach unwravels.
your hand is jerking him up n down, squeezing him tightly. his cum is pouring out, dripping all over your hand as you focus your strokes onto his sensitive tip. “o. . . oh fuuuuck fuck fuck hnghh ah!” he whines while his cum flows out his slit in large spurts. he’s made a mess all throughout your hand, cum dripping down to his balls.
“feel better big boy..?” you giggle, removing both your hands from his body causing him to wince out of overstimulation. “hah.. almost killed me y’know” he glares at your smitten facial expressions, you roll your eyes before landing a big kiss onto his parched lips. “whateverrr, you liked it!” you reply, only thing on your mind is the next time you’ll be able to help your husband ‘cool off after work’
who knows.. maybe this will become a little routine you guys have
a/n : can you tell i like sub nanami.. ermm ; got lazy at the end loll likes & reblogs appreciated <3 kisses from c4toru !!
pixelskylines
snowghoul
blakekathryn
origamiaround
romaincrisis
discoholicmusic
2087
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
