the-resident-vampire

[the-resident-vampire]

FIGHT BACK AGAINST KOSA (S.1748) - SPREAD THE WORD

THE US IS TRYING TO PASS A CENSORSHIP LAW SIMILAR TO THE ONE IN THE UK ‼️

It allows the government to censor anything they want to online

This includes LGBT, adult content, etc

Speak up about this and call your local representatives / senators!!!

We cannot let this pass. it had failed to pasr back in 2022 and 2023 and 2024 due to strong public backlash, now it being reintroduce again in 2025 cause it got introduce back in may 2025.

The lie of “protecting kids” is an old political lie fed to parents and people who don't know how the internet work and use their fear and concern just try to pass bill to try to control the internet and put censorship mask as 'safety' to justify overreach. Real safety doesn’t come from control — it comes from education, critical thinking, and resilience. “You don’t bubble-wrap a child’s mind — you teach them how to navigate the world with it.” You can’t make the entire internet safe for a child. it never had and never will be, And the world/internet shouldn’t make adults live in a sanitized, censored internet just because some parents won’t supervise or guide their kids. It’s like banning cars because some parents don’t teach their kids to look both ways before crossing the streets. It’s a parent’s job to guide and educate — not to demand the government lock down the internet, You can’t regulate away bad parenting, and Digital parenting requires effort. If you hand a child a device, you should understand what they’re being given access to. what KOSA really is A lazy, authoritarian solution to a complex, human problem. so instead of 'protecting kids', how about parents start 'preparing kids', teach the kids internet safety, what they can and cannot see and explain why: "the site say 18+, that for adults only, and you're still young, you should't be on there', etc.

: https://www.stopkosa.com/

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/119/s1748

[the-resident-vampire]

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[the-resident-vampire]

Fingering at Family Dinner -C.K

Synopsis: You’re visiting the Kents again, playing the perfect guest. Under the table, Clark’s fingers are deep inside you, curling just right while he talks to Martha about fixing the truck. You’re biting your lip so hard you nearly bleed.

cw: Fingering, public sex, teasing, D/s undertones, power play, overstimulation, dirty talk, Clark being too good with his fingers, Reader trying not to moan in front of Martha Kent, very NSFW content under the guise of “family bonding”.

You're sitting at the Kent family dinner table in Smallville, napkin folded neatly in your lap, smile sweet and polite as fresh pie—because of course you’re the perfect guest.

Martha’s dishing out mashed potatoes like it’s Sunday mass, Clark’s talking about the damn truck again, and under the table, those thick fingers are buried knuckle-deep inside your dripping cunt.

"Needs a new alternator," he says casually, voice calm, country-boy soft, while his middle and ring fingers curl slow and deliberate, dragging along your fluttering walls. “Might swap the belt too, just in case.”

His hand moves lazily under the tablecloth, strong wrist shifting between your thighs. You bite your lip, hard, trying not to let the breath hitch in your throat turn into a gasp. His fingers curl slow—so slow—dragging against that spot he’s already memorized.

You try to nod along, try to smile at something Martha says about the garden—but your breath hitches, lashes flutter, and your heel digs into the wood floor as another slick, wet squelch echoes low beneath the table. 

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she says. “That truck’s on its last legs, but I swear it still has another year in her.” Martha nods, sipping iced tea across from you like everything is perfectly normal. 

“Mmhmm,” Clark hums absently, like he’s agreeing about the engine and not the way your cunt keeps getting wetter and wetter. 

Your thighs twitch under the table. You shift in your seat, trying to subtly squeeze your legs shut, trap his wrist, anything to make the pressure sharper, deeper. But he just grins, slow and smug, and pushes another thick finger inside. Three now.

God help you.

You choke on a breath and cover it with a cough. “S-Sorry,” you manage, clearing your throat.

“You alright, hon?” Martha’s eyes crinkle with concern.

“She’s fine,” Clark says smoothly, thumb brushing your clit so lightly it’s cruel. “Just a little warm.”

You glare at him, and he has the audacity to wink—like this is some fucking game. You grind your heel into the floor and try not to squirm. His fingers are soaked, the obscene squelch of your arousal thankfully muffled by the clink of silverware and Martha talking about church bake sales. And still—still—he doesn’t stop.

In fact, he curls them harder, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit like he’s got all the time in the world. You feel it coil in your belly, tight and wet and sinful. Your hand fists the napkin in your lap, nails digging into the soft cotton to keep from moaning like a pornstar at Sunday supper.

You lean forward, whispering between gritted teeth. “Clark, I swear to God—”

“You’ll do what?” he murmurs back, voice low and sweet as honey, his breath warm against your ear. “Cum on my fingers while my mom tells us about Mrs. Lang’s peach cobbler?”

“Fuck you,” you hiss. His fingers pump faster—just a little. Enough to make your eyes roll.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he murmurs. “Right here, in my childhood home. Legs spread, dripping down my hand while you pretend to care about baked goods.”

You clamp your mouth shut so tight your jaw aches. Your whole body’s trembling now, stomach clenched, thighs shaking. And all the while, Clark just smiles across the table like the golden boy he is. All-American. Good-natured. Innocent.

You, on the other hand? You're about to cum so hard you might cry. “Don’t you dare,” you whisper.

“I think I will,” he whispers back, then flattens his thumb against your clit—presses—and you see fucking stars.

Your toes curl in your sandals. The table rattles. You grip the edge so hard your knuckles go white and your lips part in a silent, desperate cry. Your climax crashes into you in slow, devastating waves, so intense it leaves your body wracked with shudders, your slick dripping down his wrist.

And Clark? Clark just licks his fork, like nothing happened.

You slump back in your chair, dizzy and flushed, legs numb. Your pussy flutters around his fingers one last time as he slowly pulls out, dragging his hand away with obscene slowness. You feel every inch.

He brings his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean. Fucking moans around them.

Martha glances up. “You alright, Clark?”

“Peach cobbler sounds real good, Ma,” he says, licking the last of your taste off his thumb. “Sweet enough to make your knees weak.”You kick him under the table, but it’s useless. The bastard just laughs.

a/n: match my freakkkk

[the-resident-vampire]

leon : 😎 chris : 🥴

[the-resident-vampire]

gunn's superman masterlist

Works for the Superman (2025) Film

Like Real People Do ( OC x Clark)

Link to the Fic HERE

Other Works:

[the-resident-vampire]

like real people do. // c. kent (masterlist)

a/n: I've had my brain chemistry warped by the new superman movie, literally imagined up a whole character for the movie while in the theater. hopefully this sticks, and be patient with me :)

timeline: set after HBO's The Penguin, and three months before the events of the new Superman movie. Filler.

disclaimers: mentions and slight spoilers to the movie, mature themes, lois and clark are besties instead of lovers (sorry), mentions of batman (matt reeve's battinson), friends to lovers, family trauma, a lot as I go.

summary: Violet Blackwood has been through the ringer in the last year and a half; The Riddler, the death of her uncle Carmine, and then her cousin, Sofia, coming back only for more bodies in the wake and ending with her cousin going back to Arkham.

Oswald Cobblepot, the family's driver, taking over the criminal underground made it dangerous for Violet to walk the streets, leaving Gotham was becoming more and more tempting. The straw that ultimately left her no other choice, was when her boyfriend, Bruce breaks up with her.

Metropolis is her last chance to start fresh, trying to distance herself and the burden of her family as much as she can while getting swept up in another caped hero's embrace.

contents

One (Coming Soon)

[the-resident-vampire]

There is no crime where torture is an acceptable punishment.

There is no crime where sexual assault is an acceptable punishment.

There is no crime where slavery is an acceptable punishment.

[the-resident-vampire]

[the-resident-vampire]

Superman isn't woke. You're just so evil that you see a man doing acts of kindness and you think it's a targeted political agenda

[the-resident-vampire]

Been thinking about how the new Superman movie did a really good job of giving Clark interests beyond “Truth, Justice, and a Better Tomorrow.” He likes pop punk rock. His favorite meal is breakfast for dinner. Clark does a little dance when he gets the front cover byline. He likes to doom-scroll. Unclear if he’s a dog guy. His girlfriend makes him hot cocoa when he’s sad. So often Superman in film has zero personality beyond tortured alien that must guide humanity. Giving him these small details made the character feel so much more real. He really is just a guy doing his best.

[the-resident-vampire]

do fic readers know that their comments actually influence the course of the story sometimes? i don't mean in a "you need to write it this way because i say so 😡" type of comment, i mean when people are asking questions or really engaging with the plot and the themes in the comments they sometimes bring up things that i didn't even think of, or dig into parts of the story that i've overlooked, or get really interested/fixated on something i was going to just kind of glance over--and it has me going 'oh wait that's actually really interesting, that's a good point' and fully adding or tweaking or changing things about the story going forward. i'm literally adding an entire additional chapter to something right now because someone's comment had me like "oh i didn't dig into that as much as i could have." you have impact!

[the-resident-vampire]

it’s necessary to fight back against adult content bans obviously because it leads to queer bans, but also, you cannot forget that we must fight back against these bans because adults have the right to make and enjoy adult content. no credit card company has the right to censor what we look at. yes, this includes the “problematic kinks” and stuff you think is gross and bad. just as we deserve to be openly queer online, we deserve to enjoy adult content without fear of total censorship, and it’s absurd how few places there are to do that online nowadays

[the-resident-vampire]

I think a lot about the ‘He would not say that’ reaction when it comes to fanfiction, and I do not necessarily always agree.

Perhaps he would not say that in the show or movie or book. Perhaps he would not say that at the beginning of the fanfiction either.

What journey have you taken your characters on though in your writing? In what ways have you seen them grow and change? What situations have you put them in?

I certainly say things now that I wouldn’t have a few years back.

‘He wouldn’t say that’ - maybe not at that point of time, but if you want him to say it, there can still be a way to get him to that point if you tell the story well enough.

[the-resident-vampire]

a comment a day keeps the insanity at bay

[the-resident-vampire]

I fucking hate retail and at this point, the pay cannot convince me to stay

[the-resident-vampire]

nsfw clark kent headcanons

soft dom!clark kent x fem!reader

(18+) MINORS DNI

content: size kink, manhandling, oral (fem receiving), fingering, cowgirl position, mentions spanking(?), orgasm(s), squirting mentioned

names used(?): baby, honey, angel

note: there’s absolutely more, but i may release a part two soon. saw the movie and left the theater with twenty significant others. i promise you, my horny ass cannot live in metropolis.

⤷ clark kent is very careful in bed

clark knows the extent of his own strength. a career built off of keeping people safe and fighting of any threat that put lives in danger have taught him quite a lot about himself. like the fact that the fragility of humans are nothing to take lightly, especially his beautiful significant other.

he takes his time stretching you out every time — readying you on his fingers and tongue like you’ll fall apart and disappear if he moves too fast. he won’t stop until you’re worked open, your essence clinging to his face. you’re slick running over his fingers.

you tend to cum at least three times before he even lets you set sights on his hardened length. constantly check in as he slides back and forth over your slit. the tip of his cock bumping into your clit.

⤷ he doesn’t like teasing you, but his foreplay can feel like he is if you’re really needy

the bed creaks under the weight of his knees placed further down as he adjusts himself lower. kisses landing on your naked body like he’s praising your entire being. you were sure you were ready fifteen minutes ago, but clark’s fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles as he places kisses everywhere he could reach. it was almost overwhelming, and you wanted to cry out in frustration. he wasn’t doing it on purpose,

“what’s wrong, baby?” clark questions as your moans fall into borderline whining.

“i want you…need more, please, clark…” you’d start to beg.

“no need to beg, honey. i didn’t mean to tease,” he starts, “what’s got you so worked up today, hm?”

⤷ clark does not like to spank you

instead of spanking, he feels most comfortable grabbing at the plushness of your skin. caressing you like he can’t believe you’re even in his presence. fingertips pressed into the warm skin of your thighs, or kneading at your tits. times that he does it outside of the bedroom make you gasp, felling his fingers grasp at your ass for a second as he lands a kiss on your cheek. saying something about how he’d missed you all day.

⤷ clark kent is a certified eater

while most would see stress relief in receiving oral, clark finds it in giving. he frequently finds himself knelt between your legs, your fingers finding a home weaved through his curls. he lands the most enduring kisses in your cunt like he’s placing a kiss again you’re lips. essentially meeting your clit with pursed lips before ever splitting you on his tongue. eventually your leg find their way over his broad shoulders as your hips move up to meet his tongue.

he’d make sure his nose bumps into your clit. happy to hear a whimper fall from your lips as a result. the taste of you on his tongue is like the most intoxicating liquor, one that can even bypass his genetic make and the yellow sun. the taste pushes groans past his lips, reverberating throughout your body.

⤷ his cock is incredibly thick

he often worries about breaking you but that is inevitable with the sheer weight and size of his cock. every time you find yourself being stretched out on his length it’s like a new experience, like the first time. no matter how much he works you through with foreplay, his cock always seems to bully your most sensitive spot upon entrance.

he can hear your heart pounding against your chest as you try to hold off and wait for him to cum too. but his stamina will always overthrow your own. you always find yourself unprepared for the wave of pleasure that takes over when you’re creaming around him. which makes him slip out a small laugh, his dimpled smile poking through for a brief moment. but he’ll coax you through it, sure to reassure you.

“it’s alright, angel. you don’t have to stop yourself...cum all you want.”

⤷ clark loves when you ride him

he gets to sit back and watch you. he’s got a thing for watching you. this way he knows for sure his strength is much less of an issue, though at times he fights him self from fucking up into you — knowing it would be easy to just tilt his hips upward and help bounce you up and down his length.

but he wants to to take control for a moment, watching as your face turns in pleasure. watching as you stop bouncing instead and begin to grind, your clit grinding against his dark hair happy trail as you start to ask for him to touch you. he never has to be asked twice.

⤷ he is commonly put into a trance when he catches sight of how well you take him

the place where you two connect is one of his happy places. he can see ringlets of your cream circling the base of his cock and clinging to the light hair growth near his base. it’s one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen. his eyes are transfixed on the way your pussy swallows how ever many inches you can take. clark tends to avoid looking down too early, he knows he’s liable to fill you with ropes of cum the minute his eyes are planted on your pretty cunt.

but you know the minute a defeat “oh fuck” slips past his lips, you’ll be leaking his cum in a matter of seconds.

⤷ he will fuck you in his suit after work

boxers and pants hanging loosely off his hips. his belt buckle slightly digs into your inner thigh. his tie is loose, his button up’s all messy as he has the end of the shirt tucked under his chin. eyes peering into your soul as he has you placed on the kitchen counter, sinking into your warmth over and over again. he’d thought about you all day at work, during attacks on the city, during his time at the fortress of solitude. only to come home after working for the daily planet and absolutely get his fill of you by filling you as much as you allow him to.

⤷ he loves to whisper praises to you while fucking

the entire time he’s intimate with you, it’s nonstop praises. about how beautiful you are, how soft you feel in his hands, how wet you are. compliments just keep coming, just as much as you’re cumming. but his compliments aren’t just normal, they’re whispered like it’s a secret between you two. his mouth is usually right next to your ear as he praises you and pulls you through multiple orgasms.

“when are you going to let go? huh? you want to let go for me, yeah? let go then, yeah you can do it, angel. make a mess. you know i love how messy you get, there you go. good fucking girl. you’re so gorgeous baby, so gorgeous.”

⤷ clark needs to be able to see your face

you’re face is like his own form of praise. seeing your expressions change as you feel your most important spots being bullied by his cock is like a compliment to him. no matter how slow he went, you’re spot always feel victim to him and it showed on your face.

his favorite facial expression that you make is this half lidded, glazed over look that signifies you’re impending orgasm. but like before, you always try to hold out for him. but he never likes to make you wait.

so he doesn’t stop, the stretch he provides burns a bit as he continues to strike at your most sensitive spot. he can see when your about to lose. your face twists into a pout almost. like you’ll cry cause you couldn’t wait. and he loves every second of it.

⤷ he loves watching you play with yourself

he’ll want you to sit on the comfort of with your bed or the couch as he sits somewhere else in the room. he watches your fingers rub tight circles over your sensitive nub, your eyes finding him and then squeezing shut. it's not about dominance. no. he likes to see you play with yourself, see how you handle things when he's away. he likes the image burned into his brain when he's away from you. smiling in the middle of combat when he thinks of it, and the sounds of your moans echoing throughout his memories. his name being called as he watches you push through your fluttering entrance with two of your fingers. the sound of your wetness squelching beautifully.

⤷ clark will eventually let you talk him into manhandling you

"all i'm saying is, you don't have to be so gentle. i promise i'm not that easy to break clark..." you pout.

and that's exactly how you end up in this situation. your sheets are soaked as clark pounds into you, one of his feet planted on the mattress, the other planted firmly on the hardwood floor. your hips lifted from the bed and face pressed onto the mattress. he rocks his hips into yours and had called for you to turn your head to the side in the need to continue to watch your face.

you look like you're floating, your body being pulled back by the hips, and you'd squirted at least twice. his grip was firm yet gentle. there are certain limits he will never pass. some out of safety but most out of sheer dislike. he will not choke you, but he will agree to moving you around to his liking. with no warning. praising you as you clench around him once again, saying his name like a mantra

"hm? you feel good, angel? 's this what you wanted?" he'll ask as he starts becoming comfortable. but he makes sure that no matter what the circumstances, if something feels wrong you need to tell him. he wouldn't know how to live with himself if he hurts you.

[the-resident-vampire]

the necklace ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader! Word count: 2.2k

Description: You get Clark a silly little gift, a necklace with his ‘superman’ logo on it. He loves it when you bite it while he’s fucking you.

This was requested by the lovely @heroesnpink here

Tags/warnings: smut, piv, allusions to breeding kink, clark is down bad, he’s sweet and hot as hell, necklace kink(?)

Note: Second smut for Clarkie, my god this man has me on my knees 🙂‍↕️ currently trying to catch up with the requests on my inbox! I hope I did this one justice, loved writing it🫶🏼

Masterlist

It started as a joke, really.

You wanted to give Clark something special for his birthday, but it was a bit of a challenge at first. Because what do you get the man who has everything? Who is everything?

Sure, you could give him a pack of mints and he’d still act like it’s the most precious gift in the world, just because it came from you. But you really wanted to do something that felt meaningful.

So you took half a day off from work to wander the mall, hoping to find something nice. You weren’t sure how you ended up in front of a jewelry store, staring at it’s window display, but the moment your eyes landed on it, you burst into a quiet laugh.

There, in the middle of a perfect burgundy velvet case under a spotlight, was displayed a necklace of the iconic ‘S’ symbol, identical to the one he wore on his chest.

“That’s hilarious,” you thought immediately, tilting your head and imagining the look on Clark’s face. You considered it as a joke, something to make him laugh. But the longer you stared at it, the less ridiculous it seemed.

Actually… it started to feel kind of perfect.

You couldn’t help it, really. Giggling to yourself like an idiot while you asked the clerk for the piece. Because you, dating Clark Kent, Superman himself, were about to give him a cute little necklace with his own symbol on it.

If anything, you thought it would be a funny gag gift. You’d laugh about it the whole night, he’d say it’s cheesy and then you’d end up returning it the next day like nothing happened.

And you did laugh the whole night about it. He did say it was cheesy. But you never returned it.

Because he ended up loving it.

Clark walks around wearing his superman necklace proudly, without a single hint of shame when Lois or Jimmy tease him after catching a glimpse of it under his collar.

“My girl got it for me,” he always says, like that explains everything.

Which, in theory, it kind of does. You could get him the ugliest tie in Metropolis and he would still wear it proudly every single day of his life if it made you happy.

Because his girl got it for him.

In the end, the necklace did end up being the special gift you wanted for him. Because yes, it’s cringy, but it means something. It represents everything he stands for, hope, courage, who he is, what he is on this earth for.

And Clark? he adores it.

He practically lives in it. Never even thinks about taking it off.

You don’t complain either. There is nothing sexier than Clark stepping out of a steamy shower, water droplets raining from his dark curls, running down the sharp lines of his gorgeous body. Only a towel covering his lower half and that little necklace gleaming around his neck.

You love pulling him by it, kissing him around it, feeling the cold of the metal against your skin when he hugs you. Getting a peek of it under his work shirts. You just love how much he loves it.

But what you love even more, is when he fucks you wearing it.

When he’s on top of you, his arms braced on either side of your head to hold his weight, caging you with those huge muscles flexing with every deep thrust.

It’s hard to focus on anything when Clark’s cock is buried so deep inside you it makes your whole body shiver, but you always notice the necklace. How it swings with the rhythm of his thrusts, crashing gently against his collarbone with every rock of his hips.

And he knows you like to stare at it. That knowing smile on his face is proof enough.

“Look at you sweetheart, always taking me so well,” he praises in that deep voice. A grin grows on his face like he’s not actively making you see stars around the charm hitting his skin repeatedly.

“Come on, darling,” he whispers, the necklace almost brushing your chest. “I know you can give me just one more…”

And you can. You’d give him as many as he wants.

Clark coaxes you through it, always does. He knows how much he takes, how his cock fills you in ways you were never meant to handle. How every time he makes love to you he gets that dazed, blissed out look in your eyes, and those moans slipping from your lips like you’re not even thinking, just taking him in. All of him.

And this is only your second round.

“Fuck– right there, Clark,” you whimper, barely. Your eyes do the rest, telling him thank you for fucking me this good.

“Right there?” he asks back with a soft chuckle, like he’s delighted to see you fall apart like that.

So he does it again, rolls his hips the exact same way, just to hear the broken sound that escapes your throat as your head falls back in pure bliss.

He leans in closer, burying himself deeper, if that’s even possible. He braces his weight on his elbows now, so he can slide his large hands to cup the back of your head, cradling you carefully. He then lifts your face toward his and places a kiss on your forehead.

And you smile, God you smile, because Clark always manages to be the sweetest man on earth while fucking you into next week.

He pulls apart just enough to look into your eyes, still supporting your head in his hands because he knows you can’t do it by yourself at this point. His mouth stays parted, letting out those heavenly filthy grunts that make you let him use you in any way he wants just to hear them over and over.

He keeps the unrelenting pace without breaking a single sweat, slamming in and out your pussy in sloppy sounds as your wetness drips around him. And that damn necklace keeps swinging, but this time is lightly hitting your collarbone, your jaw, your cheeks. The cold metal is a sharp contrast to your hot skin.

It’s driving you crazy.

“Clark,” you pant, breathless. “T-that thing…”

He slightly tilts his head, stuttering his rhythm when he realizes what you mean. One hand leaves your head, already reaching for the chain, but you stop him.

“No no … leave it,” you say, grabbing the chain and looping your fingers around the charm, pulling softly to drag him closer to your face. Your breath ghosts over his lips, giving him a quick peck before whispering. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks back with a groan, in that maddening tone he loves to use when you do something that drives him crazy.

You hold his gaze, nodding innocently, and slowly pull the charm into your mouth.

Just the tip of it, the cold metal resting against your tongue. You suck it in, swollen lips wrapping around the symbol he carried in his chest like he’s your personal savior. And lord, he is.

Clark makes a sound you’ve never really heard before. A helpless, strangled growl under his breath. His next thrust goes harder, like he just can’t help himself. Like you fucked something in his brain chemistry by doing that.

So he keeps pushing, his speed and strength less controlled now, getting completely lost in the way your face contorts in pleasure while your moans get strangled by the charm in your mouth.

“Sweet Jesus,” he rasps. “Don’t–don’t do that unless you want this to be over right now.”

You can’t help but laugh mid bliss, the necklace charm falling from your lips with a soft pop as a result. You lift your hand to his chest, trapping the necklace between your skin so it doesn’t hit you again.

“You better hold it together for me, superman,” you tease.

Even if Clark doesn’t admit it out loud, you calling him ‘Superman’ in bed just tickles something in his brain. It flips a switch inside him that tells him to fill you up until you carry a baby from him.

Especially after the whole necklace moment.

“I-I dont think I can, sweetheart.”

He stares at you, barely enough blue left in his eyes from his blown pupils. Flushed cheeks, lips wet and parted like he’s seconds from begging you to let him break you. Of course he wouldn’t. Unless you asked.

But he’s too gone at this point. That usual gentleness, that unhurried, teasing control that lets him drag things out for hours so you have time to recover is gone.

Clark slams into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs, his hands now locking under your thighs to fold you up for a deeper angle, like he can bend you however he pleases. And he does, only him. He’s moving now with a pace he doesn’t let out that often with you, in fear of hurting you.

But right now? He’s letting himself be desperate. All because of a little necklace.

“You … you put that thing in your mouth darling, you don’t even know what that did to me–“

“Oh, I know,” you moan, your fingers gripping his chest like a lifeline, nails digging in. “I–I love when you lose your mind like this.”

He chuckles breathlessly, almost apologizing. “You don’t see me much like this … do you?”

You shake your head, too breathless to speak again. Because no, you don’t. Clark is always in control. Always worshipful, mindful, making love like he’s got all the time in the world. But there are still times where even a God like him folds under the weight of wanting you.

And now? That necklace, that cute little gag gift his girl got him is now his fucking kink.

He suddenly shifts again, one hand fisting in the sheets beside your head while the other slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit instinctively.

“Wanna come with you, darling” he blurts out, disheveled strands of dark hair falling into his eyes as he watches your face when he plays with that sensitive spot. “Don’t think I’m gonna last long … not this time. Not after that.”

Neither are you. You never do with him.

You arch beneath him, back going high, thighs shaking under him from the overstimulation. It doesn’t take long before his name tears from your throat when you reach your orgasm for the … how many times now? Can’t even remember what number it is since you started.

“F-fuck–“ You cry out, nails digging into his biceps for dear life.

He dives in to kiss you through it, deeply, passionate, so fucking heavenly like the only way he knows how to kiss. The chain traps between your lips, the charm cold and wet from your mouth pressing against his tongue. He feels it, God, he feels everything… and that’s it.

He slams into you once, twice, and then he’s gasping against your mouth as he spills inside you in twitches. His body shakes on top of yours, choking on a groan so deep you swear you’ll remember it for the rest of your life. You feel him pulse deep, feel him bury his cum as far as he can go, like it’s feral instinct.

Because Clark Kent comes as hard as he fucks.

He stays inside you, panting, his forehead falls to rest on your collarbone like he needs a minute to catch his breath.

Superman needs to catch his breath.

You’re coated in sweat, the sheets a mess beneath you, and that dumb little necklace is still swinging lightly between your hot chests. He doesn’t move in a full minute, giving you time to come down from your own high, hands going instinctively to his head.

“You alright there, supes?” You whisper amused, running your fingers softly through his hair. He lets out a muffled groan.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles into your skin.

You bite your lip to prevent a laugh from coming out. You know he’s lying. His arms are still shaking. His whole body is tense in that ‘I need to pretend I’m fine so I don’t embarrass myself’ way that only happens when you truly, deeply break him in bed.

Because it’s usually the other way around.

“Clark.” You nudge his cheek softly. “You came in like ten minutes into a round … you never come in ten minutes.”

He finally lifts his head, face flushed red, curls sticking to his forehead, and those beautiful swollen pink lips pouting. Yes, pouting.

“You put it in your mouth.”

“I mean, it’s just a necklace,” you snort, shrugging innocently.

“But it’s the symbol. It’s my … you know …” he gestures vaguely at his own bare chest, clearly flustered. “It’s the whole thing … you, and that mouth, and me, and … I’m only a man, okay?”

“No you’re not,” you’re giggling now, fully delighted, as Clark just buries his face again in the crook of your neck.

He laughs against your skin, tickling you. “You know you’ve ruined it for me, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t wear this necklace anymore without getting hard.”

You both laugh again, tangled together, his weight on top of you makes you feel warm and safe. And somewhere between the breathless kisses and your fingers tracing lazy shapes on his back, you smile at the cold feeling of the necklace trapped between your bodies.