Oops! All Steam 18+

K - Kryptonite play (consensual and careful): This only happens if he suggests it first and requires insane levels of trust. A controlled amount makes him feel more human and sensitive. It stays at a safe distance, ideally with you in the dominating position, riding him while watching deep green veins crawl up his skin. When you start worrying and try to move faster, he begs you to slow down so he can experience this vulnerability under your control. He’ll tell you when he needs it to stop but often keeps it around during aftercare so he can feel tired and sleepy with you....

The room was swallowed by a thick, oppressive darkness, save for the sickly, emerald radiance bleeding from the bedside table. The lead-lined box sat open, allowing the kryptonite to pulse with a rhythmic, poisonous light that painted the walls in shades of green.

You were perched atop him in a slow, grinding rhythm, thighs gripping his waist as you sank deep onto his thick, throbbing cock. Inch by veined inch, your soaked pussy swallowed him whole, stretching around his impressive girth until your clit ground flush against his pelvis. Clark lay beneath you, chest heaving like a dying engine, skin slick with a cold, heavy sweat that made the sheets stick to his broad back and shoulders. Beads of it rolled down his temples, tracing paths that caught the green glow and shimmered like liquid poison. 

He looked fragile, a word that never applied to the Man of Steel and the sight of it sent a jolt of raw heat straight through your core, making your walls flutter and clench greedily around him.

As you rolled your hips in a filthy circle that dragged his cockhead against that sweet spot deep inside you, your fingers reached out to trace the side of his neck. The skin burned hot under your touch, feverish from the radiation but beneath the surface you felt the distinct, raised ridges of green veins crawling up his throat and temple, pulsing in time with the glowing rock nearby. 

They stood out dark and angry against his pale skin, branching like toxic ivy. The radiation was stripping him bare, peeling away every layer of invulnerability and leaving behind a raw, hypersensitive man who felt every millimeter of your slick friction with an intensity that was almost agonizing.

His massive hands were clamped onto your hips but their grip was wrong. Usually, his touch was a careful, measured restraint, always holding back the terrifying strength that could shatter you but now, his fingers trembled. His hold was weak, slipping slightly against your sweat-slick skin, thumbs pressing with barely any pressure as his muscles failed him and the toxin seeped into his marrow. He was exhausted, breath coming in ragged, wet gasps that echoed in the silence of the midnight hour in deep, shuddering inhales that sounded pained, followed by shaky exhales that brushed hot against your collarbone.

You looked down at him, seeing the way his pupils were blown wide, blue eyes clouded with a mixture of pain and absolute, unwavering devotion. The trust in the room was palpable, a heavy, intimate weight that pressed down on both of you because he had asked for this, he had begged you to feel this human, to feel the terror of weakness while anchored by your presence, body and control.

You picked up the pace, hips snapping down harder, driven by a sudden, desperate need to claim him while he was this broken. The obscene, wet sounds of your soaked cunt sliding up and down his cock filled the air with lewd squelches every time you bottomed out, your arousal and his precum mixing into a slick substance that coated his heavy balls and dripped down to soak the sheets. 

Your tits bounced with each thrust, nipples hard and aching, brushing against his sweat-drenched chest.

As you accelerated, you saw his head toss back into the pillow, jaw locking tight as the green veins in his neck bulged prominently. Suddenly, a sound tore from his throat in a low moan that cracked into a broken whimper of genuine distress, something you had rarely heard him make in all your time together. It was the sound of his body buckling under the strain, raw and exposed, like the last defense of a god crumbling.

Panic quickly flared hot in your chest and you immediately shifted forward, still impaled on his throbbing length, reaching one hand toward the bedside table to slam the lead lid shut and end the torture but before you could touch the box, Clark’s hand shot up.

It was sluggish and shaking but he still managed to catch your wrist, fingers barely curling around your skin with fading strength. You didn't stop moving, pussy still clenching and sliding up and down in a slow, agonizingly deep friction, milking his cock with every roll of your hips but your wide eyes locked onto his.

"Not yet," he breathed, voice a wrecked, gravelly shadow of itself, barely more than a hoarse whisper.

You were breathing heavily, breasts heaving as you stared at the sweat dripping from his chin onto his collarbone. His other hand, still resting on your hip, gave a weak, demanding squeeze, prompting you to keep grinding against him, to keep fucking him through the haze of poison and pleasure.

"You're in pain, Clark," you whispered, voice trembling with worry and lust as you felt his cock twitch and pulse inside your tight pussy. "I think it's enough. I can't...I can't watch you suffer like this."

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing, as the green veins pulsed vividly under the emerald light. He then looked up at you, his expression one of pure, erotic surrender, eyes glassy and lips parted while a small string of saliva bridged the gap between them as he fought for breath. His abdomen clenched visibly beneath you, fluttering with exhaustion but his cock stayed rock-hard, buried to the hilt in your dripping cunt.

"I can feel it," you groaned, your own pleasure peaking as you felt him twitch again, thick and hot inside you. You rocked slower, savoring the drag, nails digging into his chest just enough to leave faint marks on skin that should’ve been unremarkable by you. "I can feel how weak you are…It's too much."

His hand on your wrist loosened but didn't let go, guiding your palm back to rest on his heaving chest instead. The trust was raw and sometimes terrifying, but beautiful. He didn't want the safety of the lead box, he wanted the vulnerability of being completely at your mercy, stripped of his godhood, feeling every throb of your velvety walls, every ridge of his own cock as it speared into you and every drop of sweat sliding between your joined bodies while the poison made him crave you with a desperation that bordered on madness.

His breathing hitched again with another broken, needy sound escaping as you clenched around him. His hand trembled on your hips, fingers slipping in the slickness, no longer able to guide you with superhuman force but still trying, still holding on to this moment of complete surrender.

You leaned down closer, forehead nearly touching his, breaths mingling as you continued the slow, filthy ride. Your soaked pussy slid up and down his thick, straining cock in grinding circles, taking him to the hilt again and again so every veined inch dragged against your fluttering walls. The kryptonite's light cast shadows across his face, highlighting every bead of sweat clinging to his brow, every straining tendon in his neck,and the darkening green veins that mapped his vulnerability.

He remained pinned beneath you, shivering and spent, yet refusing to let you save him until he had felt every single second of the exquisite ruin you were bringing him. 

Clark let out a guttural groan, muscles twitching and jumping under sweat-slick skin. Despite the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the heavy-lidded eyes, the dark circles and the sweat pouring off him in rivulets, he managed a tired, blissful smile that tugged weakly at the corners of his lips. "What's pumping out of me right now is far from pain..." he rasped, voice vibrating through your shared heat, broken and hoarse. "Not yet, sweetheart…please."

As if to prove his point, his cock gave a powerful, rhythmic throb inside you, stretching your walls to their limit and leaking hot precum that mixed with your dripping arousal. You let out a high, needy whine, forehead dropping fully to meet his. Your eyes fluttered shut, the world narrowing down to the salty-musk scent of his sweat, the sickly sweet-green glow of the room and the overwhelming fullness of him buried so deeply. 

In a surge of desperation, you arched your back and dug your nails deep into the meat of his shoulders and for the first time in months, you felt his skin give.

There was no resistance or impenetrable barrier, solely the soft, visceral slide of your nails breaking through his flesh, leaving raw, crescent-shaped marks that welled with tiny beads of blood. The suddenness of it sent a jolt of fear-laced arousal through you, the realization that he was truly, dangerously fragile in your hands made your heart hammer against your ribs and your pussy clench hard around his cock.

Clark felt the change in your energy and the flicker of panic in your touch. He opened his eyes, and you saw them shimmering, tears of raw emotion welling up in the blue depths and spilling over to mix with the sweat on his temples. The fact that you were scared for him, that you felt the weight of his mortality, made every second of the poisoning worth it. He wasn't a god here, he was just a man trembling, leaking, hypersensitive and utterly yours.

"Honey..." you whimpered, hips never stopping their relentless, grinding pace. Your pussy slid over him in wet, sloppy friction, loud and obscene in the oppressive silence.

He reached up, one large palm cupping the back of your head with trembling fingers, tangling in your hair to lock you against him. He held you there, forehead to forehead, breaths mingling in hot, desperate pants.

"Help me stay in this dream a little longer," he whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of your combined panting and the wet squelch of your cunt riding his cock.

"I'll still be here when it's over," you moaned, voice breaking as you sank down on him again, feeling every thick inch split you open. "And long after the sun rises…You know that."

A full-body shudder ran through his entire frame, making his cock jerk and pulse inside your tight cunt. "The marks you leave behind won't...I want to see them on my skin in the light of day." His voice cracked with raw need. He wanted the evidence of this vulnerability, the physical proof that he had been broken open by you, claimed, marked and made mortal under your hands.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of it, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, face pressed against the green veins of his throat. You could hear the frantic, uneven thud of his heart beneath your ear, weaker and more human than it had any right to be. You accelerated your pace, pussy clenching tight around him, milking him with every desperate downward thrust. The wet slap of your bodies meeting grew louder and filthier as your ass bounced against his heavy balls, cock churning your combined fluids into a creamy mess that leaked out around him with every rise and fall.

Clark’s other hand on your hip tightened as much as his fading strength allowed, fingers digging in to help guide your rhythm, pushing you down harder and faster. The pleasure for him was agonizingly amplified, every nerve ending raw and exposed by the kryptonite. Each drag of your slick walls felt like fire and lightning at once, too much, too perfect. His breaths came in wet, labored gasps, chest heaving beneath you as sweat poured off him in sheets, making your tits slide messily against his slick pectorals.

The climax built slowly, torturously, dragging you both toward the edge. Your walls fluttered and tightened around his throbbing length and Clark’s groans turned into broken, whimpering moans, sounds of pure, helpless ecstasy mixed with the strain of his body fighting the poison. 

His cock swelled even thicker inside you, veins pulsing in time with the green glow.

When the orgasm finally hit, it crashed over you both like a tsunami that refused to recede.

You screamed into his neck, your internal muscles convulsing in violent, rhythmic waves as you came hard, your entire body shaking and shuddering on top of him. Your pussy spasmed wildly around his cock, squeezing and milking him in powerful contractions that drew out every drop of pleasure. Juices gushed around his shaft, soaking his groin and thighs as you ground down desperately, riding through the peak.

Simultaneously, Clark let out a loud, wrecked groan that sounded like a prayer torn from his soul. His weakened body bucked up beneath you in shallow, exhausted thrusts, cock pulsing frantically as he came. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum shot deep inside you, flooding your pussy in heavy, endless spurts that filled you to the brim and beyond. For Clark, the orgasm felt fundamentally different, terrifyingly sensitive as every nerve was stripped bare. The release crashed over him in prolonged, devastating waves that left him gasping and trembling, tears slipping freely down his temples.

It was catharsis, a complete surrender of his body and soul, while the poison heightened every throb and spurt, until he felt hollowed out, raw and profoundly human. His balls tightened and emptied in long, draining pulses, cock twitching and jerking inside your twitching pussy as aftershocks continued to rip through him, prolonging the ecstasy into something almost painful in its intensity.

Even as the main peak faded, smaller ones kept rolling through both of you. Your pussy continued to flutter and squeeze around his spent cock, drawing out weak, oversensitive whimpers from deep in his chest. His hands trembled on your skin, barely holding on, breath ragged and wet against your hair. The exhaustion settled heavy into his bones, a bone-deep tiredness that made his limbs feel like lead, yet the emotional high kept him anchored to you.

You collapsed fully on his chest, your skin sliding against his sweat-slicked torso, bodies still joined with his softening cock buried deep inside your cum-filled pussy. The only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized rasp of your breathing, the emerald light of the kryptonite still casting long, ghostly shadows across the two of you as you lay there, entwined and utterly spent.

Clark’s hand moved slowly up and down your back in long, lazy strokes, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with fragile tenderness. The warmth of his release leaked slowly out around him with every subtle shift of your hips, a slick, messy reminder of how thoroughly he had spilled into you, thick, pearly cum trickling down his shaft and over his heavy balls, coating your skin in warm, sticky evidence of his surrender.

His chest rose and fell beneath you in uneven rhythms. He tried to hide how much trouble he was actually having breathing but you felt it in the way his lungs hitched and the faint tremor that ran through his entire body. Sweat still glistened on his skin, cooling slowly under the green light, making every point of contact between you slick and intimate.

“I wish you could have this all the time,” he said without thinking, voice hoarse and quiet, barely above a whisper.

You turned your face just enough to see the side of his face, your cheek still pressed to the damp skin of his shoulder. “Have what?” you asked quietly.

“Normalcy.” He paused, the word hanging heavy between you. His hand kept moving along your back, slower now, as if even that small motion cost him. “Proof that when the suit goes on, the man under it is still yours.”

You traced your hands over the dark veins of kryptonite that lingered beneath his skin, following their faint paths across his chest and neck with gentle fingertips. The raised lines felt warmer than the rest of him, pulsing faintly in time with his labored heartbeat. You knew what man, what version of him, was talking now. “I’ve always wanted to touch the stars…and I come home to a gift from them.” You paused. “The one time I needed proof of vulnerability from you, you opened your heart and let me in...I know just how human you are…Kal-El.”

Clark met your eyes and realized he could do nothing but stare. The blue of his gaze was glassy and unguarded, shimmering with everything he couldn’t say. How could someone know both parts of him so deeply? His breath caught visibly and a soft, broken sound escaped him as the weight of your words settled over his weakened body.

He moved his hand with visible effort, cupping your jaw and pulled you into a kiss. His lips were fever-warm and trembling against yours, the kiss was slow, deep and a little desperate, as if he were trying to pour every remaining ounce of himself into you. His tongue moved lazily against yours, tasting of salt and exhaustion. 

You made sure he stayed distracted by the kiss, pouring yourself into it just as fully, while your hand blindly reached toward the bedside table until your fingers found the lead lid and pushed it shut over the kryptonite with a soft, final click. The green glow vanished instantly, plunging the room into deeper shadows broken only by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.

He pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours, hand now resting in place while the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “You touch my soul and act like you never meant to reach for it,” he murmured, voice cracking with raw emotion. “Only the sun has come this close…”

His eyes began fluttering shut, heavy lids drifting downward as the full weight of the kryptonite’s aftermath crashed over him. No matter how many times you’d witnessed it, the fear still twisted sharp in your chest as you watched the last traces of tension leave his face, but you knew this was part of the process, this was the price he willingly paid to feel human with you. You didn’t want to take your eyes off him but you did for a second, glancing toward the window, hoping to see the first hints of sunrise bleeding across the horizon. 

Yet the sky remained dark and indifferent.

“Only the sun,” you breathed quietly, the words slipping out like a prayer against his lips as a single tear slid down your cheek. It would only register to him because of how many times it had happened before, because he knew every small tell of your heart the same way you knew his and it had been proven that not even kryptonite could strip you away from his being.

The promise of sunrise would never make it easy, not when its absence was what gave it meaning. So you would keep hoping for it, even as you cherished every sundown spent beside him because every dawn was a reminder that even the most constant light could leave and still be worth yearning for.

It was the debt of being conscious and in love…the very burden and privilege of being human.

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.

a duck emoji.

He wanted to behave. Even though he was horny, horny out of his goddamn mind just looking at you. Looking at you all day in a trench coat and Mary janes, glasses and perfect winged eyeliner like a model employee knowing your behaviour this week would kill someone in HR. It had probably made him absolutely crappy at his job because he could barely focus and Lois kept making snide comments making him think she knew but not sure enough to ask.

“So, wanna ask some more personal questions?” You said as you looked at him, cracking him out of his thoughts.

“Okay, yeah. So, what age did you get your period?” You laughed, pushing onto his side with an elbow that made him laugh too.

“You just lost one opportunity for trying to be funny.”

“You laughed. It was worth it.” You rolled your eyes at his smug smile.

“Ask away.”

“Okay. When was the last time you went on a date?” He sighed, looking down at you to see you looking down at your steps.

“Like… 4 months ago? Jimmy set me up. Did not work. Nothing in common. You?”

“Hmmm. Last Christmas. Mom set me up with a doctor.” You said, he gasped teasingly.

“And what happened?”

“Well first of all, he lives in Pittsburgh. And second, he talked about his coworker all the time. Think he already wanted someone.” Clark nodded, a slight smile on his lips. The air was colder than usual today and he hoped it didn’t cause any accident that would pull him away from this. From your steady hands and warm smile.

“And… when was the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Oh, uhm, 4 months ago.”

“Same girl?”

“Same girl. We both agreed there was no chemistry afterwards, though.” You nodded, accepting his answer with no judgment.

“What about you?”

“Mmm. Maybe 3-4 weeks ago. There’s this dude, we sort of had something in college but nothing serious. But we see each other when he’s in town and yeah… it’s just like, a habit. Okay sex with someone you know.” Clark hummed, nodding and squeezing your hand.

“Favorite band?”

“The mighty crabjoys.”

“Oh… Jesus.”

“They’re good!”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty. That would have been a dealbreaker.” You teased, shaking your head with a disappointed look that made him laugh. You were finally at your apartment, you let go of his hand to dig into your purse and look for your keys. It was quiet, besides the jingling of keys and the noise from the street. But Clark’s heart was beating fast with anticipation, eyes trying to look away before he started to get hard at absolutely nothing. He couldn’t help it, he was obsessed.

“You… gonna stay there? Don’t wanna come in?” You asked and he looked back at you, standing in the hallway of your apartment and putting your purse on the table. He nodded, mouth open as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“You okay?” You said as you opened your trench coat and watched his fidgeting around the house, looking around like someone was watching him from the outside ready to call him a pervert. He sighed, looking at you and practically whimpering.

“Yes. I’m just… I really actually like you, I have for a while and I’m trying to be a gentleman-“

“I don’t want you to be a gentlemen. We have time for that. Right now, I want you to do whatever you want.” You stepped closer to him, one hand on his chest and the other gripping his tie, pulling on it slightly like you were so interested in it.

“Be what you said you’d be if you ever got the chance. Remember all those things you said? You have your chance now. Do them.” You barely got the last part out before Clark snapped, all restraint faded and he took you into his arms, pinning you down on onto the couch before settling on top of you. You giggled as you watched him kneel between your legs, taking off your glasses and placing them on the coffee table with care. His followed and you saw the slight change from the removal. His features somehow became less defined but sharper, he looked less human… more godly. It made your breath hitch even if he had already shown you.

“Gonna kiss you. Want that?” Clark took the opportunity to tease you now, matching your smirk when you nodded and felt him lean in, at first soft and exploring, his lips were softer and plumper than you thought they would be. Does this man scrub them or something?

You wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer, now fully making out with him in open mouths competing in who could eat the other first. It was a pretty close race. Your week had also been torture, Clark writing compliments on post its and leaving them underneath your notebook when you weren’t looking and lingering a hand on your waist when he passed by you like he was baiting you to jump his bones. You pulled away first, of course, Clark didn’t need air and he kept kissing down to your neck.

“Sweetheart, remember what I said?”

“Many things have been said.”

“Right. What I said about my strength?” You did. When the dirty talk faded on Saturday night, Clark told you he found himself sexually frustrated because he couldn’t let go without hurting someone. He could barely fit himself into most girls, he gripped too hard and moved to rough. You said you could handle the heat.

“Yeah.”

“I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“I don’t mind.” You said quickly, trying not to sound desperate because honestly, you weren’t trying to get him to break you, but you wouldn’t break. Clark was stronger than he thought at controlling himself, at being gentle when he wanted. Clark smiled as he started unbuttoning your blouse, leaving a wet kiss as new skin exposed itself every time.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make sure we have a safe word. Because once I let loose, my restraints kind of fade.” His eyes flickered back to you as you had become suddenly warm at the face like you were afraid to think about Clark without restraints. He was such a tame guy, always soft and gentle, never taking up too much space. Seeing him come into his extraordinary body and existence was exciting you.

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Uhm, how about… coconut?” Clark huffed, laughing. “Sorry, I keep thinking about that coconut flan we had. It was so good.”

“It was, wasn’t it? Should’ve gotten another.” Clark admitted and you laughed, nodding. It was insane, you two did the “no, you have it” with the last bite for like 5 minutes before you took it into your spoon and hand fed it to him, he couldn’t say no. He finished unbuttoning your blouse and helped you shake it completely off, revealing your chest covered by a delicate white bralette. He gasped, like he never thought he’d be deserving of this image in front of him.

“Gosh, honey. Look at you. Thought you couldn’t get prettier.” Clark said as he passed his thumbs over your covered nipples, barely seeing the skin behind it but still obsessed with how the lace became tighter under your stiffening. He placed a single kiss in between them before getting your back up to take it off, one hand under you to unclasp.

“Take it off.” You said as you pulled onto the collar of his shirt and he nodded, fingers way too quick to be human as they unbuttoned it. He couldn’t stand keeping his hands off you for long. He let the shirt fall behind him, leaning back down to you and wrapping his mouth around your nipple, pulling a delighted gasp out of you.

“Do you- do you like them?” You asked as you breathed heavy, enjoying the wet feeling of his lips sucking your breast into his mouth and biting slightly. He looked up and let it fall from his lips with a pop.

“Of course, baby. They’re beautiful.”

“And you’re not just saying that?”

“What? No, I’m being honest. They’re so pretty.”

“Nipples aren’t too big?” Clark’s eyebrows crossed as if he was confused as to why you’d think that. He glanced back down and was met with the same delightful sight. They were perfect.

“No. Who said that?”

“Just- y’know… the guy I see sometimes. He once mentioned he hadn’t seen tits like that, that it was weird.” Clark huffed, shaking his head and going back down to kiss the skin that was the object of your concern.

“He’s an idiot. You’re perfect.” Clark rejected the comment as whole, kissing back down your body when he got to you slacks, sleek black office pants that made your ass look phenomenal (you knew, that’s why you chose them) and he glanced up for permission before pulling the zipper down. You nodded once more and he smiled, a kiss right below your belly button before he pulled the zipper down, fabric falling apart to reveal the matching set you had on.

“Jesus… Trying to kill me, right?”

“Superman’s gonna die at the sight of some lace?” You teased and he rolled his eyes, standing back up and climbing off the couch, offering you his hand to pull you up. You led him to your room, perfectly tidy as you were expecting him here tonight. You were tidy either way, but today you spent a little longer dusting, spritzed a little extra linen spray, hid your stuffed bunny in your closet. Clark wasted no time undoing his belt, pulling the leather from his belt loops and leaving it on the floor, watching you follow his stride and drop your slacks on the floor. Clark grabbed onto your sides, kneeling in front of you as he looked right towards what he had been craving for a whole week. It felt like his whole life though. He inhaled deep, capturing the faint smell of arousal and simple human essence, sweat and fluids that reminded him of the complexity that he was so lucky to enjoy. It never got old to him, specially when it belong to his beautiful, sweet, exciting coworker he was dying to get a taste of.

“Smell so good. Gonna let me take a look? Make sure you’ve been taking care of her for me?” You whimpered basically, hearing his dirty talk in person, in that raspy, low, almost Superman voice was so much better. He used his thumbs to pull down the flimsy white underwear, slowly caressing your leg while his rugged knuckles grazed your skin until the fabric was on the floor, kicked away and forgotten. Clark pushed your thighs back onto the mattress and led them open for him, a hiss spilling out of his mouth as he looked at what had struck him so deeply that night. It was his second time doing it; he read an article on it on a web magazine and thought the consent and the mystique of it all sounded good. But then he saw you, he knew you. He knew your hands, your manicure, the tone of your skin. He had spent time imagining how you’d moan and it sounded just like he suspected. And it was so much better in real life.

“Hold your knees open for me.” He instructed and you followed, wrapping your hands just below the knee to keep your legs folded open for his enjoyment. He leaned closer, taking his thumbs to press your lips open and let him see glistening, lonely skin.

“So pretty, geez. She’s so meaty, honey. Look at those lips. Let me check, can I check? ” Clark was entranced, an inspection he never thought he’d do. Sure, he’d seen his fair share of naked woman. Maybe even more, can you blame him? He’s tall and kind, women fell at his feet. But this, this was new. It was consuming him, watering his mouth like it was all fresh. All for him.

“Check what?” You asked in a chuckle, watching Clark lick his lips as he massaged the fat that was covering your pussy.

“Every little detail you got here, I wanna see it all. Feel it all.” You threw your head back in a giggle, murmuring ‘sure’ like you didn’t know how to react at how he was acting. You don’t anyone had ever treated you like this. You were brand new, a gift and worth exploring.

“She’s getting so wet. Think she likes my attention, look at that pretty hole. I could just-“ He stops himself when he brings his thumb to press slightly against your entrance, barely dipping to feel how your walls clench against him, begging him to go in further. He pulls his thumb out and goes back to touching everywhere else he could, around the sides of your clit and massaging the skin on your vulva, taking a mental note of how he could feel your heartbeat there when he pressed hard enough.

“You’re teasing me.” You whined, legs falling down besides him when you got tired of holding them up.

“Not. Just looking at your pretty pussy. Touching it. I couldn’t through a screen, just had to imagine what it would be like to get you like this, all pliant.” Clark responded as he finally pushed his index finger inside, wiggling around until he was fully inside, using the fingertip to trace your insides with care.

“So, so pretty. Gosh. Your clit’s getting puffy, huh? You need more?” Clark glanced at you and you nodded, mouth open and heaving as he started to pet at your clit up and down, finding the angle that made you clench down on his digit. He knew you needed more, deserved more, but he was merely getting to know you up-close before his dick got so hard it broke his pants.

“Clark, please.” You begged, sitting up while still having your legs open so he could keep his slow, torturing movements.

“You sound so sweet when you want something. Remember when you first asked me to help you with an article. You batted those eyelashes at me and I nearly came. So beautiful. Beautiful everywhere.” He whispered the last part like it was for himself, a realization that he had always found you as enchanting. You bit your lip to avoid letting out the most pathetic moan at just words but Clark glanced at you and smirked, like he knew exactly what it had caused in you. He probably did, he could hear your heartbeat.

“Making a mess in my hand, see how wet you are? Pussy’s begging for me. What do you want, honey?” He asked while looking between your thighs, making you giggle a little as he talked to your pussy.

“Want you in me, Clark. Want to see your cock up close, feel it.” You said, baiting him as you brought one hand up to his face and forced him to look up at you.

“C’mon, show me. Wanna vet it before I let you fuck me.” Clark chuckled but you clearly convinced him, pulling his hand away from you and leaving you cold, as he took off his pants and let them drop to the floor, his underwear following and he groaned from the friction of the fabric moving against him when he was so painfully hard. You gulped and sat up right, pushing yourself to the edge to take a good look at him. How was he bigger in person? You were sure he was using some really big angles when he sent you videos and pictures of himself, because he looked too big and nice to be true. But fuck, it was true.

“Fuck, Kent. You’ve been hiding this from me all this time?” You teased and he laughed, watching you take him into your hand as rub at his tip.

“Could’ve just asked.”

“Sure, raised my hand in a meeting and said -‘Perry, excuse me, could Mr. Kent please show us his dick? For journalism purposes.’” Clark went red at the implication, placing one hand on your head and looking at you.

“Funny.”

“So they tell me. Come closer, cowboy.” You said as you spit on your other hand and wrapped it onto him as he took a final step closer, calfs against the edge of your bed.

“Gosh, it seems like he wants me too. Crying for it, look.” You teased as you saw a drop of precum fall from his tip, glancing up at him with a smirk while he looked at you and kept petting your head.

“Want you so bad, honey.” He responded and kept his mouth open when he saw you lean to take a lick of the liquid falling from him, so soft against his dick he barely felt it.

“Don’t- I won’t last.”

“I don’t care. You said you had great stamina, didn’t you?” Clark nodded because he had said that, promised to fuck you for hours. And he would, he kept his word, but he wanted to cum inside your wet walls.

“I just wanna be inside your pussy. C’mon, lay down.” You smiled, falling back into your bed as you saw him reach into his pant pocket and take out a condom. He placed it on himself fast, barely giving you time to watch before he kneeled between your thighs and lined you up against him.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Clark, right now it’s way too little.” He huffed, shaking his head at your constant baiting as he merely pushed his tip in, your smile fading into a shocked moan.

“Tell me if it’s too much, baby.” You nodded now, swallowed your words as he kept pushing in, his dick prodding into you in a way nothing else could have before. He let out the whiniest, sluttiest moan you’d heard in your life when you involuntarily clenched the second he got fully inside. Even with the barrier, you felt so warm and wet he was having a hard time moving. You could feel every ridge being filled, every vein on him pressing into you in a delicious manner.

“Oh, fuck.” Clark sighed out as he closed his eyes, focusing hard in not moving until you said you were ready. It was pretty hard, though. The edging from the last week and how divine you were had him hanging by a thread.

“Don’t curse, it’s scary.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, leaning on his forearms to kiss your smug grin off your face. You could barely call this kissing though, it was basically breathing into each other’s mouth in awe with the occasional meeting of your lips.

“You can move.” You whispered, one hand brought up to his neck as you left one last peck and gave him the go ahead. He stayed stuck to you for a few more seconds, breathing you in before he lifted himself up back to his knees, grabbed onto your legs to push them over his shoulders and with a big groan, he started to move with deep, hard thrusts that filled the whole room. You gasped as if he was taking out the air from your lungs every time his hips met your ass.

“Tell me how you want it. I’m at your service”. Clark mewled as he looked at your face and tried to decipher if you liked the speed or needed more, needed less.

“Whatever is fine.” You whispered, pulling your hair out of your face as you watched him move. He was a vision. His hair was sweaty and falling on his forehead, chest clenching every time he pulled back as if it was begging him to stay inside. His hands gripped your thighs with care, even if they’d be bruised, you’d be happy to have this painting your skin for the days to come. His happy trail led to the meeting your bodies where the squelching was coming from, your wetness easing the stretch from his dick inside you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now. Cock got your head empty? Tell me.” Clark brought his thumb, the same one that had been teasing you, to pull on your lower lip and rest against your gums, like he was just checking what it looked like to have it inside your mouth.

“You- I told you to not hold back so much. Give me what you got.” Clark smirked, nodded and sped up his hips, cock bullying into you at a rougher speed. He was determined, not to have you take your words back but to prove to you he was a man of his word. He wasn’t fucking with you or talking you up just to have his way with you. Everything he’d said during the last week was real. You lifted your hips to meet him halfway, trying to fuck back into him even if his speed was unattainable and you’d have abs by the morning. It was perverse, the way he had you fucking back like you couldn’t possibly get enough of him and need him closer, deeper. You wanted him to interlace your lungs with his, get you two breathing the same air.

“Feel so good, baby. Just like I thought.”

“Thought about it a lot?” You were genuinely curious. How soon could this have happened?

“You really – golly, yes- didn’t notice?” You shook your head, watching him get a wicked grin as he rearranged your limbs, wrapping them around his waist and unlocking a new speed without fear of breaking your legs. He went in and out, cock pressing past every part of your insides with a perfect precision.

“Just like that- fuck, Clark. Right there.” You whined, head thrown back and your back arching off the bed when he grabbed your hips to angle you to perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust. He didn’t need more build up, more teasing. He wanted you limp and loud and drenched.

“That’s it- let go for me. Gonna get you there again and again.” Your body felt like it was transcending, everything turned into fulness and that pressure in your pelvis that was threatening to snap inside you and make you orgasm. Clark could tell, cock pulsing in anticipation at how pretty you’d look when you came, what noises you’d do and how your body would shake.

“Cum for me, make a mess on my cock. You know you want to. Claim me, I’m yours.” It was a direction apparently because he was yours and he wanted you to make a mess. That’d be easy, your orgasm clenching out and travelling through your body like it had always belonged there, to him. You moaned loud and high, your neighbors would file a complain but you couldn’t care less as Clark kept fucking you through it, pulling small gushes of wetness from your hole as he got to his high too. Your orgasm was dragged out as much as he could, looking at you squirm under his arms when you started gripping him like a vice, milking him like you wanted all his cum. He groaned in delight when he felt his balls draining finally, his movements becoming sloppy and desperate when he tested the condom for it’s actual use. He didn’t stop, fucked you through your orgasm like he couldn’t ever stop. His hands were holding you tighter, he was looking at you with even more hunger. He knew what it felt like to fuck you finally; his body knew what yours felt like. He wanted more.

A minute more and he finally pulled out, letting your legs down to rest from the rise of them and leaning down to kiss you, sweet and tender. It didn’t feel like the thank you men did after they came, like it was their responsibility to be a little loving after using you. Clark meant it, he meant every word of appreciation and affection. His mouth was warm and soft against yours, giving you back the air he sucked out.

“How do you want it?” Clark asked, assuring you he wasn’t done in the slightest. You smiled and pecked him one last time before pushing him off you and getting on all fours, back arching and inviting him in. Clark grabbed onto your ass cheeks tight, two firm slaps like he had been waiting to do it for some time. He had. You heard your phone ring in the living room, turning around and seeing Clark become a blur as he returned with it in his hands, handing it to you.

“Oh.” You whispered, looking at the contact’s name and seeing that he had already texted you before, a simple “you free tonight? In town.” Clark huffed, reading from your expression this was probably the man you saw at times and had ‘okay sex’ with.

“Don’t need him anymore. Tell him to you moved onto bigger, better things. Don’t need a dick who doesn’t like your tits, honey. I love them.” You laughed as he coaxed you up, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek, bringing one hand towards one breast and massaging it. You neglected the call and let him watch you delete the contact, a satisfied grin taking over his face. You could feel it against your cheek.

“Good girl.” He whispered, his free hand travelling between your legs to rub onto your puffy clit in reward. You shivered, nodding and melting onto his touch.

“You like that, huh? My good girl. Knows what she wants, she wants me playing with her pussy. ‘S okay, baby. I’ll give you everything.” Clark’s words were melting you into a puddle of need, you couldn’t get wetter and more pliable. He could do whatever he wanted with you and you’d thank him.

"No coconut?"

"Not even a fibre." He smiled, applying more pressure on your poor pussy that was getting you close embarrassingly fast.

“Want you, Clark.” You whined.

It was something that got you going. You liked imagining the people behind it, knowing they didn’t know who you were and were just there to see your lower half to get themselves off. So after a stressful day at work, you got comfortable in your bed, angled the camera just right so only the apex of your thighs could be seen and logged into with that secret word that would get people that wanted the same thing as you.

It was taking some time, so you started yourself off with your fingers teasing up your slit. Your eyes popped open as the screen connected and showed you one of the nicest cocks the internet had presented. Not that you had seen millions or were too picky, but this, this Greek god, this is sculpture like. He was big and hard and veiny in all the right places. It was easy to get faster with your movements as you looked at his hand move up and down the girth size. You could hear shuffling to position himself better so he could see the computer, a small groan leaving the mouth of the men that was on your screen. The hand was just as pretty, looked strong and rugged and so familiarly fixed it reminded you of the man who shared your office desk.

You had harbored a stupid crush on Clark Kent you were too afraid to act on. It stayed hidden and sometimes exposed when you instinctively pulled away when your hands accidentally touched when handing you a pen or when he remembered your coffee order and smiled at you like he knew it meant something. Lois gave you a weird look whenever it happened and motioned you to talk to him. No way. What if he could know what you liked? What you did in the privacy of your room?

Your hand twitched in timing with his when he squeezed the tip slowly, as if pulsing himself to give a little more. To drain. You could whimper. It took you so little to get close, so close when a notification came from teams on your computer, making your hand shake away from yourself. What if the mystery person heard? Just as you grabbed the computer, the same teams notification rang from his side. Weird. Weird that it was just at the same time and that the man’s hand had the same thin red bracelet Clark wore and that as he moved you could see he had slacks on the same color Clark wore today and oh-

Oh.

Oh.

Your breath hitched and you shut the computer with a slam, heart beating at a million per hour at the realization. It was Clark. Clark Kent. The sweet, dorky desk neighbour that got you cake on your birthday and told you the red bracelet he sported was a gift from a friend (weird). He saw you getting yourself off, in all your glory with your fingers drawing mean circles on your clit. It was his dick. Beautiful and big and giving you the show of a lifetime. Oh.

Just as you thought about how you would react the next time you saw him, your phone pinged.

Clark Kent @ 9:32 pm Could recognize you anywhere. Was hoping you’d notice. Wanna do that in person some time?

You went red as you put down the phone and slammed your back onto your bed, embarrassed and overwhelmed at the fact that he knew and he liked it.

"Where have you been?" you breathe while you basically sprint toward him. Your arms extend just the right amount enough for him to crash into you and scoop you up into his hold. Then to spin you around while squeezing you so tightly that you think your spine might snap in half.

You welcome that, though. It's better than being here alone while he's off-planet and you're making yourself sick over whether or not he'll ever come home. You let yourself be engulfed in him, in his crushing hold, in this tight hug, because at least he's here.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. He presses a kiss onto your temple, gentle and reverent, and you melt into him. Wrap your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you, to feel the press of his hard, familiar body against yours.

"The mission wasn't supposed to last that long. Everything that could have gone wrong ended up going wrong."

The sigh he pushes out against your temple is full of solace. Maybe a little guilt, as well, judging by the way he tightens his grip on your waist. He buries his face in your hair right after that.

Definitely a not-so-subtle way of inhaling your scent after he'd lost it for two weeks.

You pull back and shake your head.

"Doesn't matter. I'm so happy you're home," you confess through a breathy, relieved laugh.

Your hands, still tingling from the excitement of seeing him after so long, somehow manage to find their way up to his face. You brush your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks while your eyes reorient themselves with his beautiful features. Although he'd been gone for what felt like an eternity, you never forgot what he looked like.

Which proves a problem, because he doesn't look the same as when he left.

Clark leans in to kiss you, but you don't let him. You ignore your body when it screams at you to let him do it. You quickly press your hand over his mouth to hold him back, earning a confused little hum from your boyfriend. When his brow knits together, you bite back a laugh that very desperately wants to burst from your chest.

There's no doubt in your mind that he wants to kiss you even more than you want to kiss him, but that's not happening until you figure out what's new.

"What on Earth are you doing?" he mumbles against your palm.

"Shh. Hang on," you command, eyes still combing over his features. Your hands follow, fingers gently tracing over his soft, warm skin. He's got a little bit of stubble, which was to be expected. Apparently he had access to a mirror to shave with off-planet, though, because it's more of a five o'clock shadow than actual stubble.

You blink a few times. Your fingers trace over the sharp line of his jaw, and the straight, prominent bridge of his nose, and his high-set cheekbones, and his brow, and...anything on him that you can get your hands on.

"M'starting to feel like a lab experiment. Are you high?" he teases, words a little slurred because you're too busy poking and prodding at his cheeks. Laughs at you, too, giving you a glimpse at that beautiful smile you've missed so much. That smile that's the same as it was when he left.

So...his face is the same. What the hell?

"You're different."

His hold on you gets a little more firm. The easygoing, relaxed features you know so well tighten and morph into concern. A furrowed brow instead of a relaxed one. Widened, slightly scared eyes. Tensed shoulders, an even more tense jaw, and his lips quirking downward into a frown.

"Okay, now you're scaring me."

He sets you down in front of him to get a good look at the top of your head, to crane over you like he always does since he's so fucking big.

"Are you sure you're alright, honey? Did you hit your head or something while I was gone?"

He cradles the back of your head with one hand, clearly feeling for a bump or indent or anything that could explain your odd behavior. Then he leans in a little further to get an even closer look.

And that's when it hits you.

When he tilts to the left to look at where his fingers are basically mapping out and exploring your skull, your eyes fall on his hair, and everything starts to fall into place.

On the way that the curls atop of his head are longer. More defined. Water falling over his head and ever-so-slightly adding to that signature curl that always rests on his forehead.

Then your eyes travel down to the back of his head, at the way his hair is longer there, too. Long enough now that it curls at the nape of his neck, or to stick out and curl upward in the case of some of the thicker ones; a subtle difference, but enough to throw you off.

Enough to turn you on, too, because his hair has never been this long. How he managed to grow it this much over two weeks is beyond you; blame it on Kryptonian biology, maybe.

All you know is that you love it.

"It's your hair!" you squeal. "It's longer!"

"Oh, yeah," he says, face melting back into that general, lovey-dovey, gooey ease he usually has when he looks at you. He chuckles and releases your head, opting for reaching down and grabbing your hands instead.

"It's a little overgrown. I was gonna cut it when I got home."

You scoff. Why do men always cut their hair when it finally looks perfect?

"No, don't you dare! I'll break up with you if you do that!"

You get an eye roll from him for that one, but the way he's smiling down at you makes you think he's not all that upset.

"You think it looks good, huh?"

"It's so pretty, Clark," you purr. You must have laid that soft compliment on him much thicker than you thought you did. His cheeks turn pink, and he grins, and he looks down at your intertwined fingers to avoid turning any redder.

You break free of his hold to touch some of those longer curls, but your fingers stall at his suit's collar. It's different. A little shorter, maybe? The gap in the middle at his throat just a little wider? You aren't sure. Either way, you can see more skin. More of that beautiful, golden skin you dream about being pressed against yours at all hours of the day.

You lean back far enough to look at the rest of his suit, which is also slightly different. Still the same bright blue. Still the same gorgeous, flowing cape. But that symbol, the beacon of hope on the front of his chest is a little bigger. And the stretch of the fabric is a little tighter around his biceps. And those ridiculous trunks - the part that genuinely makes you salivate the most despite being so ridiculous - are a little higher up.

Fuck. He looks incredible.

"This...is this a new suit?"

He beams down at you. Steps back to do a quick little spin. You've never had a problem with a show-and-tell moment. Especially when he's showing himself off.

"You like it? It's not technically new, just...upgraded. Had to get Ma to fix the old one 'cause it was super beat up. She made a couple changes along the way."

He braces his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. Something that should make you laugh, but now that you can see just how well his not-so-new but definitely-new-at-the-same-time suit's clinging to his thighs, you can't speak.

So you swallow when you're done ogling him and your eyes meet again. It was much harder than you wanted it to be. He definitely heard it, and the way he visibly softens and drops his mouth open tells you he's about to ask if you're okay again.

You don't give him the chance to do it, though, because you're too busy pouncing on him. Jumping into his arms and smashing your lips against his. Clark groans at your suddenness, but he doesn't skip a fucking beat. He'd been waiting to kiss you, after all; makes sense that he'd reciprocate it so quickly.

The kiss is immediately hot. It's heavy and obscenely needy on both ends. Your teeth click together in the most deliciously painful way. Your tongues fight for purchase in each others' mouths. Your hands tangle in his thick, longer hair while his hands slide down to your ass, groping it about as roughly as he knows you can handle while he stumbles out of your living room and toward your bedroom instead.

Your dorky giant trips over his own feet a couple times. His cape doesn't really help, either. Gets caught up and tangled in his boots, makes his steps all wobbly before he kicks your bedroom door open and bounds for your bed. And yet, through all that stumbling and near-falling, he manages to keep you steady in his grasp.

The best part about being with Superman? You never have to worry about him dropping you.

Clark doesn't even break the kiss as he kneels on the edge of your bed and bends over to lay you down on it. You're the first one to break it, and it's only so that you can suck in a breath to prevent passing out.

Damn him and his ability to hold his breath for an hour.

"I've thought about this," Clark mutters, leaning down to kiss your jaw and neck about as frantically as possible, "every single second that I was gone."

You laugh and tilt your head back to give him more access to your skin.

"Ditto," is all you can muster as a response. Your head is swimming with lust and a tiny bit of oxygen deprivation, and he doesn't make it any better when he nips at the sensitive spot at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. His tongue laves over the new sore spot and pulls a moan out of you that you had no idea was nestled in your lungs.

When you unravel your legs from his waist, he settles between them. You have to hold back a whimper as soon as you feel the thick, warm hardness of his cock against your inner left thigh.

You whine, tugging on his hair to get him out of your neck while you tell him, "Kiss me. I haven't seen you in two weeks."

He obliges, but he does it in his own way. A smirk against your hammering pulse at the side of your neck. A few kisses in a trail toward your collarbones. A thin, hot line that he licks up the column of your throat.

"Anything for you, baby," he mumbles just before connecting your lips again. This kiss is slower than the last one, but so much messier. So much deeper. His tongue doesn't even need to slide over your bottom lip and beg for purchase in your mouth - you both went into it open mouthed and burning with need for each other.

You raise your hips to meet the stiff length of his cock. Even through all of your combined layers of clothing, the feeling of his hardness just hardly bumping against your clit is enough to make your walls flutter and clench.

Clark gently rolls his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from both of you. That was some very much-needed friction. It only exacerbates your need. Makes you burn. Makes you tighten your hold on his curls and pull on them again.

He groans and breaks the kiss, but his hips instinctively buck against yours. It takes all of your strength to not come from seeing the thin string of saliva keeping you connected.

Clark lets out a nervous little chuckle.

"This reunion celebration won't last long if you keep pulling my hair like that, honey."

In a playful act of defiance, you twirl some of his thick curls around your fingers and give them another tug. You smirk up at him when his hips buck again.

"You like having your hair pulled that bad, Clark?"

"I like it a normal amount, thank you very much," he sarcastically counters, but his eyes shift away from yours and he buries his face in your neck to attack it with kisses again. He's always been a bad liar.

"So if I do this," you pause to pull on his hair again - a little harder, a little quicker.

"You won't come in your cute trunks?"

Clark literally shudders. His hand falls to your left hip so he can pin you down on the mattress; it was just to get you off of him, to keep you from brushing against his cock again. Prevents him from blowing his load before you even get your hands on him.

"No, I won't." His voice went up about 10 octaves. You laugh at him and kiss his temple just before he can start moving down your chest.

With a flick of his wrist, the buttons on your work blouse are done for. They pop off of you and fling around your room, hitting the walls and clinking down onto the floor all over the place.

"I liked that shirt!" you squeak out. Your feeble little attempt at scolding him bounces right off of him, though.

"I'll buy you another one, honey. Don't worry about it."

Clark spreads your now destroyed shirt open and kneels between your legs so he can get a good look at you. All you can do is push yourself up on your elbows and watch his gaze slowly travel over your bare, heaving chest, your kiss-swollen lips, the soft, pinkish-red marks he'd left on your neck to claim you as his.

But he doesn't speak until he meets your eyes. When his lust for you gets swept aside, and he smiles so big that his dimples pop out. He reaches down to grab your hands. As your fingers intertwine with his, he lowers his voice to a whisper and confesses, "I missed you so much."

Clark's sweet, tender-hearted nature isn't something you're unfamiliar with. He's always got that big heart of his on his sleeve. Always displaying sincerity, and compassion, and kindness because he was raised that way. That's just the way he operates.

And yet there's something so special about when he's directing it at you. Something more genuine, something sweeter and kinder and more compassionate.

Because he loves you. Sure, he loves the people in Metropolis. He cares about them and their well-being.

But at the end of the day, he really, really loves you.

"I love you," he coos while his massive hands give your much smaller ones a tight squeeze.

See?

"I love you," you return without hesitation. You get a flash of that pretty grin from your dorky giant.

Then he leans down to kiss a trail down between your breasts, down your stomach, and toward your waist. He stops there. His hands, big and warm and gentle as ever despite the frantic need threatening to explode out of him, graze over the bottom of the skirt you wore to work. Thankfully, it isn't too tight.

Not like that'd be a problem. He'd just tear it off of you. But, seeing as he already tattered one piece of your clothing today...well, at least you get to salvage the skirt.

Clark pushes your skirt up until it's bunched around your hips. As soon as he gets a glimpse of what he's been missing for 14 long, long days, he lets out a shaky little sigh. His thumb gently glides over the wet patch in the middle of your panties, slow and exploratory and so fucking intoxicating that you're worried you might actually be drunk on him.

"Clark, don't," you cut yourself off with a pathetic whine as he presses down on your clit through your panties. One of your legs jolts and falls over his shoulder, the other still pressed down on the mattress because his big hand's claimed its spot on your thigh.

"Shit, don't tease!"

"I'm not teasing," he mutters. Starts rubbing soft circles on the sensitive little bundle of nerves, making you twitch and claw at the sheets beneath you just to keep it together.

"Just admiring you, sweetheart. Wish you could see how pretty you are when you're making a mess for me like this," he purrs, leaning forward to press a few soft kisses on your thigh. That five o'clock shadow burns your thighs. God, you missed that burn.

As he's marking up your thigh with soft bites that he suckles on to soothe your pain, that thumb slips away from your clit to push your panties to the side.

It all happens so fast. One second, he's torturing you through your panties, the next, he's dipping his head down to suck your clit into his mouth. You gasp and instinctively reach for him, one hand tangling in his hair while the other meets his where it rests on your thigh.

His longer hair is incredible, to say the least. It looks good. Fits him very well. Makes him look more mature even though he's already in his 30s.

Also, though? Fantastic to pull on while he's seated between your thighs and taking you to heaven. It keeps you grounded while he's moving down and dipping his tongue into your cunt. Plus, every time you yank on it, you get rewarded with a moan or grunt from him that shoots deep, gravelly vibrations straight up your core.

A particular gentle shake of his head while he's attempting to get his tongue deeper into you has you seeing stars. His nose gives your clit some much needed attention; enough attention, in fact, for you to whimper his name so loudly that it echoes within your room.

Also enough attention to get you to finish almost immediately.

You come so hard that your eyes might permanently be stuck rolled back in your head. While your body falls apart beneath him, the only thing keeping your soul from leaving it is that tight hold you've still got on his hair. You pull it a little harder as you're cresting over that wave that brings you to paradise, and while you're convulsing and trembling, he's letting out a rather loud moan of his own to match yours.

You come down a few moments later thanks to Clark's muttered sweet nothings and his gentle touches.

"Atta girl," he purrs through a few kisses he's pressing on your inner thighs. You keen. Then you blurt out a command to him, something telling him to get up off the floor so you can really get this party started.

"Um," he murmurs through an awkward laugh, "I think...maybe I'll just stay down here a little longer. If that's alright with you, of course."

That piques your interest. He does love to go down on you, but he's never turned down your begging for him to fuck you. You push yourself up on your elbows and take a good look at him.

At his widened eyes that keep darting away from you. At his bright red cheeks. At the way his chest is heaving much more than you'd expect it to be right now when he hasn't even really done anything.

You let out a weak giggle.

"What the hell are you talking about? You okay, Kent?"

"Yeah," he lies. A literal lie through his teeth. He pushed that little word out at you through a grin.

"Then come up here, weirdo," you tell him. "Sit against the headboard and let me repay you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. Swallows so thickly that you can see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. But, he's never been anything less than obedient, so he very reluctantly starts the process of doing as you say.

As soon as he pushes himself up from the floor where he was kneeling in front of you, you see what the problem is and why he wanted to stay down there a little longer. It's in the form of a relatively large wet patch on the front of his trunks.

No wonder he moaned so loudly when you yanked on his hair while you came.

It riddles you with guilt when you feel the giggle bubbling up and out of your mouth at his expense, but you couldn't hold it back if you tried.

"Clark, did you-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he grumbles, cutting you off relatively effectively. You cover your mouth with one hand and gnaw on your bottom lip. That helps you hold in your laugh.

It passes a few seconds later.

You shake your head.

"We don't have to."

As he reaches up to release the latches that secure his cape to his shoulders, you clear your throat.

"So...you definitely like it more than a normal amount when I pull on your hair, huh?"

Clark tosses his head back to let out a loud groan. You fall into a fit of giggles, but he's not having any of it. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Enjoy it now, because I'm cutting it in the morning just to spite you."

➢ You chose to be a good girl and continue the stream as you were told.

Smart choice.

Instead of making Ghostface jealous, you simply thanked Perverted Daddy’s generous donations, blowing him a kiss as you usually do for your special donors. It made your lovesick stalker’s hand twitch, and he nicked your soft chest with his blade. The sudden stinging pain earned a hiss from your pretty lips as blood trickled down your hard nipples.

“I'm sorry, baby doll, my hand slipped.” He lies. Always with the lies. Yet his voice was so tender and genuine, you almost believed him.

His filthy hands groped your chest, rubbing the stinging wound and forcing the blood to spill. He loved you in red. It was his favorite thing. He liked to watch the cherry red color ruin your pretty skin.

It stung. Yet you couldn't deny that the color indeed looks good on you. You almost couldn't blame him for wanting to watch you bleed all the time.

With each stinging touch, he spread the blood all over your tits as the viewers watched. He played with your cold nipples, watching them soften with your blood and the touch of his perverted hands.

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM

[ ▸ 216.8k LIVE VIEWERS ]

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

♡ anonymous89 » this is so fucking hot

♡ jackripperfilms » finally some good content

♡ freakonaleash » [comment removed]

♡ choker&chains » oh wow

♡ cutieeesh» mmm this is so hot!

♡ messynymphe » I'm in love with this

♡ kylereddd » hope you do aftercare after this

♡ maryjanee» hi again!

♡ perverteddaddy » sweet angel.

He embraced you softly, “You're such a good girl.”

Thump, thump, thump.

You loved his praise..

“My sweet, sweet girl. Always listening so well.”

It was so intoxicating—you were starting to forget everything else. His hands roamed around your body, continuing to grope your bloody tits while he kept hungrily pulling your ass against his hard bulge beneath his robe.

The way he called you his good girl and touched you made your heart thump faster than the blade kissing your flesh. It also made you arch your back a little, pressing against his body more and more. You were a pathetic wet mess.

“Please, baby,” you whined needily, “I need you.”

Your whimpers and pleas made him weak in the knees for you. It drove him insane. It was so easy to make him sick with love for you.

His possessive grip on you became firmer, the ghostface mask tilting slowly as he looked at you. If only you could see behind the mask. His eyes were filled with lust.

“You need me to do what? Use your words, please.” He said in such a sweet voice, it made you sooo wet.

“I need you to fuck me, please—”, you whined softly, “I don't wanna read the donations anymore. I want you to fuck me, please, please.”

He gripped you tighter, his hands trembling with the need to fuck you in front of thousands. Your pathetic whimpers and begging made his cock ache; he didn't know you could be this eager for him. It was driving him insane. He needed you badly, too, but he had this night planned already.

He moved closer to your ear, “Just a little longer, baby, I promise, you'll get what you want soon.”

You whined once more, “Please, sir,” you pressed your ass against his throbbing bulge, “I know you want to.”

You could hear a dark chuckle under the mask, and his grip on you became tighter. “Of course I want to, doll.”

“I want to do so many bad things to you, things you won't be able to handle. We all want things, but I'm afraid we can't have what we want.”

His threat made a puddle between your trembling legs. You whined once more, but before you could beg again, he forced your head to turn back and gripped his hand on your throat tighter.

The feeling of not being able to breathe feels so good to you—it's terrifying, but it feels intoxicating. Nobody talks about how easy it is to die, not knowing if this is going to be your last breath, and knowing that you're putting all of your trust and life into this strange man's hands. It deeply terrified you.

But it felt so good. It's a high you won't ever forget. The feeling of your eyes slowly losing the will to stay open, your mouth trying desperately to get air. Your body began to shut down, and it's crazy how easy it is to let it happen, sinking into your chair and letting your lovesick stalker's hands take away every breath you possess.

He didn't want you gone just yet; he just needed you to listen and stay still. His mask kept staring at you uncannily. Your vision started to blur, and his mask was distorted. You reach out to him, your hand trembling as you tug on his robe.

Your fingers tried to find their way to his bulge. Even when you were being choked, you wanted nothing more than his cock. It only made him harder.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, “you're so needy today.”

Usually that would be a good thing, but he was feeling a bit unstable today, more than usual. His feelings for you just kept getting stronger and stronger.

Thump, thump, thump.

He knew if you kept begging and whining to be fucked, he would have lost it. He wouldn't have been able to stop.

Suddenly, he let go of your throat, letting you catch your breath. He tapped on your hip, signaling you to keep going for your devoted fans. So you listened, being a good girl and reading the chat and donations once more.

➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM

[ ▸ 233.2k LIVE VIEWERS ]

LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED

♡ killiancsv » choke her again

♡ angelicwhore » she's so pretty when she can't breathe

♡ sukicutie » gained a new fan

♡ heavenlyy_22 » please do more knife play!

♡ dommommy » be careful

You continue to read multiple donations as Ghostface teases your body with his knife. You had gained so many new fans, and the donations kept spilling in.

♡── sukicutie Has Sent a $100 Donation──♡

╰┈➤ You're so pretty, and I love this Ghostface roleplay you're doing! I hope you keep doing it.

A little smile formed on your face, “Thank you for the generous donation, sukicutie! I love this Ghostface roleplay just as much as you.”

His gloved hand on your bare hip grew more possessive with your comment. “You're doing well, keep going,” he leaned over, “if you keep it up, I'll give you a special reward.”

The idea of a special reward made you even more motivated to keep being good for him. You turned your head back to the screen and continued to read another donation.

♡── heavenlyy_22 Has Sent a $150 Donation──♡

╰┈➤ loving the stream! You gained a new fan <3

You had gained so many new fans that it was getting overwhelming. “Ahhh, a new fan? Thank you for becoming a part of my lovely world, and thank you for your lovely donation, heavenly. I'm glad you're loving the stream.”

Ghostface traced the knife down your hips, slightly cutting you and earning a whimper from your lips. He loved the noises you made when you were in pain.

You winced at the stinging pain and felt the blood dripping, trickling down your bruised thighs. It looked so beautiful to him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloody sight. He just wanted to keep spilling.

You noticed he was stuck in a trance, and the blood triggered him. He wanted to see your insides; he wanted to take your heart.

“Mr. Ghostface?” You called out to him, hoping to snap him out of his trance, “Are you okay—”, suddenly he pulled you out of the chair roughly, a little too roughly. He embraced you feverishly, holding you tight so you couldn't escape. So many perverted and sick thoughts were rushing through his head. You needed to calm him down. His tightened grip on the handle frightened you, and his mask just kept staring at your soft, trembling flesh.

To snap him out of it, you softly pushed him into your chair and straddled him. For a moment, he looked at you in confusion, not knowing what to do. But your face calmed him down.

His knife was still at your side, but you felt confident enough to grind on his bulge beneath his robe. His other hand joined your bloody hips to hold you.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbled beneath his mask. You could hear him struggling to say anything, yet you could hear his little whimpers and groans; they were so soft and cute. You wanted to hear them more.

You started to grind on him more sensually, slowly letting your sticky cunt stain his robe. He was so wet because of you. His tip was sticky with his precum, aching and twitching beneath your wet lips.

"Mine." He muttered as he gripped you tight.

It made your heart fluttered.

He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. His tight grip on the knife is weak, but it's still there. You continue to grind on his bulge, leaning forward and arching your back.

Your body is pressed up against his chest, and your face and his mask are almost kissing. If only you could take off the mask. You wanted desperately to see who was behind it. You wanted to kiss his lips and look into his eyes as you rode his cock.

He knew you wanted it badly. So in a moment of weakness, he lifted the mask just enough to reveal his lips and laid them on yours.

You were so happy. His lips were so soft that you passionately returned his special kiss. As you kissed him, you could not stop bouncing on his hardened member, your sticky folds completely drenching his robe.

He wanted to be inside of you already. While you returned his sweet kisses, you could feel his hands tugging his robe beneath you, and pulling out his dripping cock.

It looked so pretty and pink.

Without wasting time, he aligned it with your wet cunt and slammed it into you, stretching your little hole until it was in the shape of him. Fuck, it felt so good as he plunged his cock into you over and over again.

The sound of his cock repeatedly forcing its way into your hole filled the room; it was so loud, you were scared of someone making a complaint.

You could feel him pathetically melting right beneath you, his grip on the knife barely present anymore. All he could think about was you and how good your insides felt.

He was already so close.

With each slow and sensual kiss, his thrusts became more rapid and violent. His voice and moans were shaky, even more shaky than yours. He was cute like this. Then suddenly, thick ropes of hot, sticky cum spilled from his cock and erupted into your hole.

Yet, even as he came deep inside of you, he wanted to keep going. He gripped your plump ass and slammed into you over and over again as your viewers watched. You could feel your legs trembling with each thrust, your boy started to ache, and you felt too weak to keep going. His hands roamed all over your sweaty body, and he couldn't stop tasting your lips.

“You're perfect. Too perfect.” He mumbled beneath his breath.

He gripped your ass harder and kept thrusting. “I don't want to stop, doll,” he said as he kissed you more feverishly, “I just want to make you mine.”

“Mhmm.. Sir—Please slow down,” you whimpered, but he wouldn't stop, he just kept thrusting, watching the way his filth spilled from your wet cunt.

You didn't know what to do, so you whispered your safeword as softly as you could. Surprisingly, it snapped him out of his lovesick trance. He slowed down yet kept slowly bucking his hips into you. It was so hot to watch him still chase his pleasure while not wanting to hurt you too much. You were happy he kept his promise.

“I'm sorry, babydoll.” He cooed, “Did I go too far?”

He sounded so genuine and concerned, it put a smile on your face. “I'm okay, don't worry. It was starting to get a little bit too much for me.” You answered honestly.

He hummed and looked towards the stream, wanting to end it already. The room was filled with the exhausted gasps for air as you both tried to catch your breath. He pulled you into one last kiss, one that was gentler.

“You did such a good job today, sweetheart.” His praise made you weak. He cupped your sweaty cheek and smiled. It was your first time seeing his smile. It made your heart flutter.

It was such a loving and sweet smile. It was something you wanted to see more. You pulled him into another kiss, “Thank you, baby.”

「 next route 」

Your thoughts began rambling, running to the point of breaking down. Maybe it’s because of the lack of food you consumed, or maybe the lack of rest, but what you know is that you needed all the thoughts to be gone.

And what better way than to have Clark fuck you senseless?

You look up at him, eyes all hazy from the stress and need just from thinking about his thick cock plunging into you.

“Clark, baby?” you asked sweetly.

He only hummed in response, still annoyingly so focused on his papers.

You frowned unknowingly. “Can you help me?”

His attention finally shifted, turning back to look at you. “You finally gonna sleep now?”

You huffed in protest, of course he was in on this again. “I told you I’m not tired, Clark–”

“Yet you keep whining and crying all day, baby,” his tone more stern than usual, the veins on his neck bulging just like they always did when his patience was wearing thin.

“I told you I need to finish this soon!” Your brows knitted in protest, the stress now fueling your annoyance at him.

“Well, not by making yourself miserable…” he let out a quiet sigh, knowing that he can’t do anything when you’ve made up your mind. So he decided to be a reliable boyfriend instead.

“What do you need help with, sweetheart?” his tone was so much softer now, his attention fully on you as he stood up from his desk towards the bed, instinctively tidying up your mess along the way.

“Will you make it all go away, please?” You looked up at him as he towered over you from the edge of the bed. Your hands trailing down from his chest to his stomach and lower, making him let out a shaky breath while his muscles twitch.

“Now you want me, huh?” his fingers trailed your jaw, tipping your chin up. “You’ve been ignoring my warnings all day, so here’s something. You have to earn it today, baby.”

The next thing you know, you were perched on his lap. His hard cock slapping against your thighs, his pre making his tip glisten so deliciously.

Your pants were gone, panties bunched up to the side as he teased your folds in a way that made you tremble on top of him.

“You have to promise me to take care of yourself, or you won’t come. Okay?” he whispered the words into your ears.

“But Clark, I can’t–” before you gasped as he lifted you easily, guiding you down on his cock so agonizingly slow. His tip entering you, stretching you split wide open inch by inch, till you could feel all of his veins along your walls.

“No moving. You’ve been denying me, so now I’m denying you,” his tone sharp, like a warning.

“Please– please, Clark…” you whimpered, cunt fluttering as you try your hardest not to move, or he won’t let you reach your climax after all.

Your breaths deepened, insides burning, clit throbbing from being so close yet so far.

He began lecturing you. On how you should take more care of yourself, how you should stop skipping meals and drink more water, and how you should take more breaks so you won’t be in this situation again.

But you can’t think anymore.

He tutted then, hand finding your cheeks as he cupped them. “Listen. Be a good girl and repeat what I said.”

You nodded, trying your best to recollect the things he had told you all night. “Hahh– no skipping meals, drink water—Clark please!”

“I said no. Repeat what I told you,” he squeezed your cheeks harder.

And your cunt can’t help but have a mind on its own. You always find it hot when Clark use that serious tone on you, as rare as it is—so your walls kept contracting, making you produce more and more of your slickness that was now seeping outside and dripping onto his base.

Now his own control was weakening with every pulse of your hole. You can hear how his breath kept hitching with every beat, how his hips buck just the slightest, you almost can’t tell.

The both of you were so close, so you decided to just comply.

“Okay fine– I promise to stop after this,” you whimpered. “I’ll eat and drink more water Clark, I promise.”

He let out a sigh, before his demeanor changed. He kissed your cheek, your jaw. “Good girl. Now let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You then let out a quiet cry as he began bouncing you up and down his cock, moaning louder as his fingers began to make tight circles around your clit.

All the while, he kept praising you in your ears, kissing you with every word.

It was quick. You felt the orgasm tipping from every thrust he gave, the soft words, the way his fingers worked so methodically, like he had done it a thousand times.

“Gonna come–!” you gasped.

“Give it to me, sweetheart,” he rasped, before letting out a moan as you finally reached your edge.

Your walls fluttered violently, your whole body shaking on top of him, and your mouth parted to let out the most beautiful moans he’d ever heard.

He kept kissing your face as you ride out your high, his own cock spilling with a deep groan into your ears.

“You did so good for me… now come on, let me cook you dinner, then we can sleep, okay?”

༘⋆ 🏷 daily freaks' : @theworstwolvie @clarkscolumn @unificsation @luvekent @tooloudarts @clarknsun @pinksplace @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @sparklingsin @anon-188 @avgdestitute @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @maiamore @feathers-from-cupid @23s0fia @eatingyourboyfriend @billyjoelsbabygrand @margaret811 @sttaejoon-blog @garfieldsladybird @velvetnightmoonsandbows @sugarpplum

“My plug is coming over— just be cool, ok? He gives me an insanely good price. He might hang out for a little, too.”

You know by now any questions you have will be waved off, so you resign yourself to dealing with there being another strange man in the apartment.

Nikolai greets your boyfriend warmly, like he’s an old friend, but his eyes light up when they land on you.

“And tell me— who is this beautiful creature?”

It’s a slippery slope from there.

That first time, he just sits by you, maybe drapes an arm on the couch behind you. You take a hit from the joint he has for himself at your boyfriend’s urging. Nikolai laughs and looks at you with soft eyes when you cough— like he just saw a silly puppy fall over.

He kisses your cheeks when he says goodbye and your boyfriend waves it off with a “he’s European”.

The next time, his arm is around your shoulders. Then, there’s a hand on your thigh. His goodbye kiss starts landing closer and closer to your lips.

And you feel guilty because you like it. There’s something so slow and easy and sticky about Nikolai— he’s easy to fall into. He’s an excellent conversationalist. He has interesting stories and despite the fact that he only sees you once a week, he seems to remember more about you than your boyfriend ever does. And your boyfriend, usually blitzed within the hour, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Every time you bring up how it’s a little strange what Nikolai (or Kolya, he’s insisted you call him) does, he waves it off— telling you to just be cool and not ruin a good thing.

Your coughing persists every time you take a hit to be polite. Nikolai responds by shotgunning with you. You were sure that would push your boyfriend over the edge, but no.

Until one day, you come home to what you think is an empty apartment. Your boyfriend should be at work. But you walk into your bedroom, and there he is— Kolya playing with the old teddy bear from your dresser (your boyfriend always ends up throwing it out of your bed).

“Nikolai—“

“Malýshka, how many times have I said? You can call me Kolya,” he chides gently, placing the bear down in a sitting position before moving to you.

“Jason isn’t—“

“I know he isn’t home right now, pchelka. He told me I could come here today while he was out.”

“He… he did? Why?”

The truth sits like a sore under your tongue but you don’t want to let it out. You don’t want to admit how stupid you’ve been. How this has been a long time coming.

“He is, well…. A loyal customer. But he hasn’t been able to make a full payment for a long time.”

He can see the second hand of a clock ticking behind your eyes.

“And he knows… he knows how fond I am of you.”

You shake your head in disbelief.

“And he made me an offer.”

You cry. First and foremost at the betrayal. At being treated so cheaply. At knowing this would happen and doing nothing to stop it. At the fact that you ever fell for the romantic words of a man so spineless. But most of all you cry from guilt and relief at the same time.

Because this has been your deepest, darkest, most unspoken fantasy ever since Nikolai walked into the door with his deep brown eyes, with his imposing figure and the gold chain dangling from his neck— and called you beautiful while looking at you like he really believed it.

You spend the rest of the evening in bed with Kolya. The same bed where your boyfriend fucked you. Slept next to you. Left the covers in a mess when he left bed after you.

Hours of it consist of comfort. Of shushing and cooing, of soft stroking and quick circles, of tongue and kisses and nuzzling with his nose.

Nikolai only fucks you once you beg. With a quivering lip and hiccuping sobs. When he can see your hips and feel your cute little hole on the tip of his cock as you try to line yourself up and chase him so he’ll fill you.

Respectfully, he put on a condom. But you don’t really care.

And when you’re in his arms afterwards, playing with his chain while he rubs your back, there’s a lot he could say. But he doesn’t need to say any of it.

He only speaks when he starts to pull away with a groan and a stretch. For a moment, you think everything will shatter— the dream will end and he’ll leave. He got what he wanted. No one wants you beyond what you provide for them. It’s then that he speaks.