mon cherie

envisioning eater! jason todd who tongue-fucks you throughout the night and makes you squirt over and over again. one of your legs rests on his shoulder while the other is suspended in the air by his strong arm that's been there for the past few hours. your thighs clench together every time he hits the sweet spot, the one that makes you release juices all over him.

but he doesn't stop, not until your legs are trembling and you're grabbing his hair so tight it's about to be ripped off. he loves the taste of you; he can never get enough of you.

heii! i wasn't expecting anyone to like it, but here we are :D

lex luthor is the casual asshole that no one expects to ever find love, much less fall in love with an actual person. everyone thought it was going to be the 1-week fling he usually has before discarding them away as if they hadn't spent the last few days together.

everyone thought you were going to be another one added to his collection, only to be abandoned and neglected after, but you weren't. this came as a shock. this was the first time in history that he's bothered chasing someone and actually smothering them with real love when he gets them. that person's you.

he, himself, doesn't realise that he's subtly changing his demeanor for you but everyone else notices. he practically worships the ground you walk on.

he grants anything and everything you wish for, instinctively buying stuff for you without thinking. he reschedules his plan to destroy superman just to spend one more second with you.

you're cuddling with him in the grandeur living room of his penthouse— the smell of luxury especially eminent and strong. and you can smell him too. it's one of a cologne, clearly from some expensive brand you don't bother searching for. it's died down compared to in the morning when you met up with him at a fancy cafe for breakfast.

he treasures you more than his need to destroy his arch-nemesis. that, in and of itself, is a miracle.

that statement is true for both running, and sex. he finds fulfillment in showing you love every night, thrusting into you with a quickness you would never be able to keep up with.

he enjoys seeing your overstimulated body pliantly whimpering, only soft moans coming from you as you cum all over again. his cock is just as sore as your pussy, a burn radiating from it due to the friction.

there's something so mesmerising, so beautiful about how filthy you look after your fuck sessions. you think it's embarrassing, but he thinks you should embrace it. everything from your disheveled hair to your ruddied lips that you've been biting at for the past few hours is evidence of how much he loves you.

he knows he should probably slow down, but he can't— not when you're desperate and begging for more.

you were only gone for a few days, just shy of a week for your business trip, but to clark, it felt like a century. he claimed that it felt like it had been a millennium since he's felt the tight warmth of your pussy gripping onto his cock for dear life.

so, you can't blame him for being a bit rougher this time around.

he missed you so bad. so fucking bad that everyday seemed worse than the previous— trying to jack off to the thought of you. it's not enough. he reminisces the grip of your walls, pulling him in desperately.

he'd always much preferred to service you, making it his goal to make you come. though, he can't promise the same when you come back.

you two arrived in the bedroom so naturally, like it was meant to be: for him to fuck you senseless as soon as you came home. he sunk into the wet feeling between your legs quickly, finding himself ramming his large member into you once again after a long time of being away.

he fucks you to oblivion, sending you over the edge repeatedly until the bed's soaked with a mixture of both yours and his cum. he doesn't stop. he won't.

he wants you to know how bad he's missed you, and your clit.

clark's a hungry man. he was simply looking around for food in the fridge and just stumbled upon the chocolate you've just bought from somewhere, with fancy packaging and terms he doesn't bother to read.

he was expecting anything but a sex inducing candy. it was the last thing on his mind.

he can't explain the feeling, no words ever enough to exacerbate it.

the feeling of heat taking over his body and mind to the point of no return, burning his whole body, cock aching desperately for release.

the need to cum quickly became an immense, deep-rooted necessity that he desperately needed to fulfill. he needed friction, movement, anything.

it was a miracle to see you've finally entered the bedroom after long, agonising minutes of him writhing on the bed in pain, hands palming the monster that lies hidden by his zipper.

to this day, you still don't know if the aphrodisiac is really that strong or it's just the increased effects of being a kryptonian since, now, you've grown a fear of the sugary treat.

the bulge in his pants was unnaturally large, seemingly about to burst open if you weren't to open it in the next few seconds. it took you a little too long to react and understand the weight of the situation, so you rush over quickly, popping his fly open and exposing his cock to let it breathe for a moment, though still twitching in need.

his tip is of a deep shade of pink, precum leaking and glistening in the light before you swallow it whole into your mouth, evoking a low groan from him. he lets out sharp gasps as you move your head up and down, the warm sensation of your mouth closing in on him.

you rub the length you can't fit in, watching him carefully as he throws his head back. the wet sounds of your tongue rubbing on his already saliva-coated member continues, until you feel a sudden jolt of his body.

he's so close. he needs it. he needs to cum. desperately.

his hand lands onto the back of your head, forcing you to quicken your pace, and you obey. it doesn't take long for fat spurts of cum to enter your mouth. salty yet intoxicating.

"fuck—" he murmurs. "why do you even have that thing?"

"gee, nobody forced you to eat it, y'know," you roll your eyes, replying after you swallowed his seed. "i didn't know it was that strong,"

"i'm never eating chocolate ever again," he says.

he's known for loathing superman for one reason: jealousy.

superman had the world supporting him by his back, but lex had nothing, he's had barely any help, much less the girlfriend he stole from him.

you were lex's first, before ever becoming superman's.

everything good luthor had was stolen away by some alien. they both loved you strongly, but in their own ways. yet, lex was the loser in this endeavor?

he's spoiled you rotten with love, gifts, and time. none of the other girls he dated even got close to what you had. he's never bothered to make their life seem like it had value, only using them as a piece of decoration but you were a different story.

he actually felt something for you, not just keeping you to flaunt as an accessory.

the word "love" leaves a bitter taste in his head, engraved with the memories of seeing you all happy and giggly with the other man. sure, he's just saved your life but luthor would literally force the world to bow down to you. superman wouldn't do the same.

now, he cries alone in his expensive mansion with no one to share with, no shoulder for him to rest his head on and envy seeping deeper and deeper into his already broken heart.

but through this all, he doesn't hate you— not one bit. the feeling would've usually turned into an anger that would be unleashed upon innocents but this time, all he feels is the sour taste of defeat.

maybe that's why he's crying all alone while you're off with someone else. he can't move on.

he's too... pathetic for anything, perhaps it's time he's realised it.

Dick should learn not to stare unwarranted.

Very early on, he's already trained and taught proper manners, but it's seemingly wiped out in an instant upon seeing you.

He hadn't meant to let the lust take over his mind, his actual dick getting hard as he watched you swirl the lollipop in your mouth, coating it with your saliva.

The vulgar thought popped into his mind much faster than he would've liked— guilt filling his thoughts as he's riveted to your lips. He completely ignores the scared and creeped out look on your face as he watches the mouth that's wrapped around the candy, suck and lick at the bright pink ball of sugar.

He never wanted to ever be seen as lustful, nor a dirty-minded person but his brain somehow drifted in that direction. He envisions that it's his cock that's filling your mouth to the brim, leaving little room to breathe as your tongue continued glazing it with your spit and your eyebrows pinched together in pleasure.

Disgust takes over him as he finally snaps out of his muse, giving you an apologetic look that you don't get the chance to reply to since he dips fairly quickly.

His jaw clenches awkwardly as he leaves the club that houses the underground drug-ring he's supposed to investigate, soon realising that he's strayed very far from his initial mission. And that he's probably going to come back with an extra unnecessarily lascivious goal.

clark kent's the type of guy to struggle from refraining to spoil his daughter.

he tries not to buy everything she wants so she'll learn that life doesn't always work in your favour, and you've scolded him a couple times for giving in too easily, but you can't blame him.

her big doe eyes giving him a pleading look, lip into a pout and hands clasped together like in a prayer. his power to resist is much weaker than he would like, but only to the most important girls in his life: you and your daughter.

"pleaseee daddy," she begs, standing on the threshold of the door, blocking clark from entering his office.

he's stumped. but it doesn't take him long before making a regretable decision.

in acquiescence, he only lets out a sigh before picking her up to go the toy store, not excited for the fact that you're probably going to yell at him by the time they arrive back home.

he'd arrive home after work and immediately rush over to you, lifting you up by your hips and onto the counter before slamming his lips onto yours. no words even being exchanged before he goes for your lips.

passion is evident in his gestures, hands exploring all around your body while his tongue tries to go deeper in— needy and hungry. it's as if he's never going to have enough of you, always having to roam further, hands reaching beneath your pencil skirt that's fresh from work. he continues to grope your body while he consumes you whole and you gladly accept.

you moan into the kiss as his tongue fucks your mouth, hands cupping his chin and pulling him in.

a scandalous heat makes itself known, growing in between your legs as you feel his palms dip beneath your skirt that's hiked up inappropriately. he only squeezes your thighs and kneads the flesh, not yet pressing against your aching clit.

but there's no need for talk when you two are practically begging for more from each other. even after many hot, steamy nights, you two still haven't filled up your quota. and it's disgusting.

Bruce never had the intention to tell you this early, trying to be elusive, only to be inexorably exposed to his wife. He would've much preferred telling you out-right over the idea of you stumbling upon a debilitating scene.

It was the first time he's bothered to seem dignified and polite, only to watch the image

"So this is where you've been going out at night? Fighting villains?" your voice is more chagrined than you wished, then a pause before your eyes widen into a realisation— one that you can only hope not to be true. "Is that why you have so many scars on your back?"

That's why he's always seemed to be deep in rumination, mind clustered by the thoughts of fight and revenge.

He avoids your disappointed gaze, pausing as his mouth is left open, but no words come out. It's not an abstruse situation, especially not for you since you've put two and two together so quickly.

You let out an exasperated sigh, eyes only tracing his awkward movements, guilt laced within. "I don't need an explanation right now, just stay safe, Bruce."

Leaving him alone in his bat cave, you make a decision to study up more on the vigilante that everyone's so ambivalent on. It's debilitating to have to eviscerate him without him knowing, but you have an inkling feeling that it's only the vestibule.

clark kent struggles to face the fact that some people in the world will dislike him at some point, no matter how hard he tries to get them to like him. he hates the idea of anyone disliking him, but when he's with you, it's inevitable.

the neighbours come knocking on the door after it's the 5th time that week clark was fucking you into the bed with his cock deep into your pussy. there's a loud moan that follows every time clark hits the sweet spot— sending you into ecstasy over and over again.

"ngh— i love you so much," he moans, pulling your head closer to kiss you.

he's shoving his tongue down your throat while grinding his cock deeper into you. loud moans escape past your lips despite clark throat-fucking you with his tongue.

you let out a gasp when he pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. you clench around it, wanting more desperately, pussy unconsciously pulling him inside but he doesn't cave. you let out an eager whine.

"stay silent for me, will you?" he asks nicely, a big cheeky grin plastered on his face.

immediately, you place a hand over your mouth.

he uses his palm underneath your back to pull you into an arch, aiming the tip perfectly at the spot that would send you over the climax. he hesitates, before exerting the final blow and thrusting his full length inside you one last time.

"fuck—!" you subdue with your hand, spurts of cum coating his softening member.

he groans above you, peppering kisses along your neck as he paints your walls white.

"what're we gonna do about them?" you ask, panting.

"i have no idea," clark chuckles.

meanwhile, neighbours are already gathered at your door, begging for some kind of compensation or for you guys to sound-proof your room.

18+ clark kent is a certified pussy eater. he would much prefer to service you and send you over the moon multiple times rather than make you cock drunk all over him. he loves watching your lewd facial expressions shift into lewder one as he presses the pad of his thumb onto your folds for extra pleasure, forcing you to come undone all over his tongue. but he doesn't stop there because he loves hearing you moan to the feeling of his tongue pressing against your swollen clit. you feel guilty for making him do all the work but he's actually more fulfilled by seeing the trembling legs that are resting on his shoulders get increasingly shaky.

jason todd would fight someone for you if they said the wrong thing. he doesn't play about you and never will. he knows how men think, how disgusting they can be at times so he's always cautious when he's with you. if another man ever dares to say anything even remotely dirty or catcall you, then it would be his last day on earth. that's why you love him so much, because he's the type to protect you when you're wearing something skimpy rather than force you to dress differently.

Bruce Wayne being meeting with another spoiled brat would be an encounter that would go down for centuries.

It starts with having a bid war with him for assets which not only hinders his operations as the billionaire playboy, but as Batman as well. He begins seething with hatred as soon as he sees your name come up, or when a seller mentions that you're interested in the property.

He's the owner of Wayne Enterprises, how come they still put you above him?

He's fucking pissed when he sees you at the bank about to transfer the money for the next property you've just stolen from him.

"It's you. You're the one taking all of my business opportunities, my plans, and destroying my future," he starts rambling, to which you only roll your eyes.

Funnily enough, you actually have no idea who this man is. Or maybe you just learnt to not care over the years of having random rich men attack you for destroying what they could've made. The best thing to do in this situation is to ignore or to shoo away with your bodyguard and this is unfortunately the one day that you don't bring them.

Then you turn around. It's him: Bruce Wayne.

You scoff. "It's not my fault they prefer me over you,"

"What are you even planning to do with them anyway?" he starts. "It's not like you have some sort of master plan that needs desperate attention."

"I don't. In fact, I just like seeing rich men get angry over losing to someone else," you start toying with him a bit.

He gives you a shocked look, one that screams "how dare you"

Unfortunately, this wasn't the only time you come across the man.

You keep your voice low as footsteps pass by, chatter prevalent in the building. You hold your voice as much as you can, despite the owner literally balls-deep into you behind the door.

It hasn't been too long since you started having sex with your boss behind closed doors, but Bruce always finds the perfect spots to hit. Your mouth opens as a silent moan when you feel him slamming himself into your g-spot over and over again.

You want to cry, to moan but you can't. All you can do is whine and squirm while Bruce fucks his cock into you aggressively.

As far as you know, he's been single for the past few years so don't be shocked when he rams his member into you like there's no tomorrow.

"I love you so much, gonna fuck you until sunrise," he starts whispering into your ear, skin slapping against yours.

"Nghh—" you grit your teeth. "Please do—!"

He lets out a quiet groan before painting your insides white with his cum, throwing his head back while it leaks out of you slowly. He stops momentarily, only continuing so you can reach your climax too.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, the cum following soon after, mixing with his to form a mixture.

The both of you stay in that position, panting and catching your breath.

"C-can I take the day off... sir?" you ask, still huffing.

He stares at you skeptically, before a smirk appears. "No, I'd like to watch you walk around the office with cum still inside."

You glare. He's really just going to torture you like that? But it's not like he hasn't pulled a stunt like this before.

"Fuck you,"

"It's nothing you can't handle," he says, leaving the room to give you some time to fix yourself up.

Good luck to you, I guess.

He's up far earlier than you most of the time so it's never a surprise when there's a breakfast tray with all your favorite foods laid out in front of you. You can see him sitting at the end of the bed, waiting patiently for you to wake up. Excitement fills his eyes when he feels a shift in the mattress.

"You're awake... good morning, baby," he moves to greet you with a soft kiss to your temple, hand rubbing your arm as he takes a seat beside you. Somehow, he always finds himself yearning for your touch and this is no different.

Light enters your eyes quickly, taking you a while to adjust but still muttering, "good morning, babe."

"Decided to make you dinner since I figured you couldn't walk," he says smugly, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

You let out a soft giggle. "It's gonna take a lot more than some sex to take me down,"

"I guess so," he mumbles.

He never meant for this to happen— much less lose you to someone else. He just can't seem to find himself moving on from you. It's like everyday that his mind circles back onto thinking of what could've been. With each day that passes by, it gets worse.

He's inconsolable at this point.

He finds himself driving past your house during his commute despite the pang of jealousy and disappointment that surfaces. He'd rather feel the pain of watching you with someone else than lose you completely.

Sometimes, you'd find him lurking in your neighborhood. There's a reoccurring sigh that you let out every time that you do.

"Clark," you say in disappointment upon seeing him sitting down in your front porch, clutching the bag that hangs on your right shoulder. "How much longer are you going to stay here?"

He turns around, glad to see you but also terrified how you're going to react. "Hey I'm sorry, I was just going to leave—"

"You need to stop this," you cut him off, patience wearing thin. "I can't have you appearing so suddenly y'know."

"Right, right. I'm sorry," he apologizes, as if he hasn't a million times before. He stays true to his word and swiftly disappears.

There's the same feeling of guilt that you had during the day of your divorce. But you try not to overthink it, because you really are much happier than you would've been if you stayed.

There's just too many secrets with that man.