But…he has to admit theres one position that has his head spinning that his ma would probably shake her head at. But he can’t help it. He is after all just a man. Maybe not a human man but god when he hears those cries and feels your cunt wrapped around him he might as well be as weak as one. 

You’re flat on your stomach, hands clawing at the sheets as Clark’s arm gently wraps around your head. A firm reminder of his presence. As if his dick pounding into you wan’t enough. He’s holding himself up with the other hand. Making sure he doesn’t crush you with his other worldly strength. His hips are punishing in their movements. Hard and slow, like he’s carving his name into your cunt.

Normally he likes watching your face as he makes you feel good but with this position he can hear your whimpers and moans so much clearer. His face is pressed to the side of yours, his nose smushed against your cheek. Pretty filth spilling from his lips as he praises you and your body for responding so well to him.

Making such sweet noises honey

You feel so good, squeezing me so tight m’afraid you need to relax baby

Making a mess on the sheets hm? That’s okay I’ll take care of it just let go on my dick.

He has no idea the kind of effect he truly has on you but based on the way your thighs are shaking and your nails are digging into his arm, he has some idea.

He likes feeling you go limp in his arms, melting into a puddle and trusting Clark to take care of you. Your brain turning to mush but you know that he’s there and that he’s safe. Perhaps Superman has a small hero complex as the idea makes his cock twitch.

The click of the door finally broke him out of your spell. He rested his back against the leather chair, his lungs taking a deep breath as he came back to reality. He didn’t know how long he can handle your presence before doing something so reckless. Hiromi’s fingers hook on his tie, pulling it to loosen his collar just enough to get more air.

He needed to stay on top of his game.

.

.

.

It was like you were purposely teasing him.

“Here, Higuruma. The documents you requested and Mr Mishima thanked you for the reminder.”

The documents were warm, fresh out from the printer, both your hands set on each side on the pages; a polite manner when giving it to your boss but, Hiromi could only focus on the bra you were wearing today. The thin fabric clung nicely to the garment making Hiromi’s senses go wild. Could it be a cute little lacy one? With an opening in the front that would make it easier for Hiromi to snap it open with his teeth? Plus, the silk bow that held your blouse made it look so tempting to undo.

To make conversation Hiromi glanced at your manicured nails, “Ah, Did you get your nails done recently?”

Your eyes slightly widen at the sudden comment of your nails, but you give a smile with a flex of your new set, “Yes, I just got them done! Decided on a new color on me, how do they look?”

His eyes traveled around your fingers, the nimble limbs decorated by your new fresh acrylics—he could only imagine how those nails could dig into his wooden desk if he bent you over it—“The color suits you…”

Your smile brightens even more, the color of your cheeks began to show, “Gosh, thank you! Your the first to notice the change”

He gave a small huff of laughter, needing to shake away the desire he was suddenly feeling so early in the morning, “I have quite the eye for detail.”

‘Like noticing your skirt is shorter from yesterdays…’

Oh, yes. He noticed the shortened skirt as soon as you walked in from work. The way it hiked up your thighs even more when you tried hooking up your coat on the rack, just barely covering your ass. He was addicted the way it was snug around your waist, exposing more of your curves to him. It didn’t help that you were wearing higher heels that elongated your legs, which gave Hiromi a glance of your inner thighs every now and then.

Every click and clack of your heels became a sirens song to Hiromi. His eyes would instantly try to find your form when he heard the sound. He was so desperate that he made excuses to get out of his office; either by getting something from the break room or pretending to grab more supplies. He would stare whenever you began to print documents for some upcoming meeting, how you stretched across the machine in order to click a single button— how every piece of fabric on your body just cling to your curves so sensually. He grew a bit jealous at how the other young male lawyers were also infatuated at your simple motion.

It only got worse when his client came in for his appointment.

.

.

.

He really did try to focus on Mr Mishima, he really did try.

The man continued to spew on about how much money he spent on lawyers to help him with this case. He needed to prove that he is innocent of some crime that Hiromi couldn’t remember. Usually, Hiromi was writing notes while a client is speaking, trying to get every detail about the case; however, it was so hard to care when his cute assistant is perched on the chair near the door in her miniskirt. Legs crossed, thighs wrapped in that sexy mesh stocking, heels slightly dangling on the front of your foot— barely revealing your smooth soles.

He bit on the click of his pen, focusing on how your skirt can barely contain the plush of your thighs. His eyes darted back to Mishima as he asked Hiromi a question that revolved around the case.

Hiromi had to pull something out of his ass to save face.

“—Thank you for coming, I’ll make sure to look over the case thoroughly.”

The meeting was a disaster in Hiromi’s eyes, he had never been so distracted in his life. That damn skirt. Damn you. What made it more frustrating was how Mishima also gazed on your form when you led him out. The lawyer wanted nothing more than to lock you away in his office, rip away your stockings and taste you.

Hiromi pinches the bridge of his nose, needing to get back into his professional mindset before he gets an HR complaint.

The door clicked open once more, his eyes peeked open to see your form emerge. Your lovely face pokes from the small gap of the door, “Excuse me, Higuruma?”

He quickly flattened the wrinkles on his coat, “yes?”

You squeeze yourself through the door, closing it from behind, “Sorry, I think I forgot my phone here. Do you mind if I?—“

“No,no…not at all, go ahead.”

He gestured around awkwardly, turning away to let you look around in peace. You walked over to the chair that you had once sat in, your hands digging in the gaps of the cushions. Hiromi could just see your bent form from the side, his head itching to just fully turn, but he knew that he needed to keep his distance. Unfortunately, his eyes began to wander.

There in all its glory was the curve of your ass on full display, your skirt ridding up just enough to see your cotton panties. You continued to dig into the cushions, your knees buckling on the position you were in. Then, Hiromi noticed a small tear in your stockings, one in between your inner thighs. The idea that the tear was caused by your flesh rubbing against one another almost made him groan out loud.

“I got it!”

You victoriously pull out your phone from the cushions, showing him your triumphant smile with your face flushed and all. The sudden movement startled Hiromi, his eyes quickly shifted around before going back to you.

“O-oh. Congratulations”

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips at his awkward consolation; however, you didn’t think much of it. You quickly headed out from his office, giving a cheerful depart before heading back to work.

God he needed to keep it in his pants.

.

.

.

He was back in his flow: documents were being highlighted, sticky notes littered his desk, phone calls were being made. Hiromi had no distractions—

“Higuruma?”

Fuck.

His eyes look away from his document toward yours, he gave a polite nod for you to enter his office. He couldn’t get over the way your calves flexed as you stepped in your heels, it made him wonder if your feet ached from the constant pressure. He imagined his fingers digging into the soles of your feet, watching you squirm from the relief of his touch.

He shook away the thoughts that invaded his mind, “Yes? Did something come up?”

You lightly shook your head, “I was just checking up on you, are you staying overtime again?”

Hiromi glanced at the clock, he barely realized that it was almost time for him to call it a night; however, he did want to stay a bit longer to get his papers in order.

“Yeah, I still have some things to finish up.”

Your cheeks softly puff up forming a slight pout, “But you haven’t taken a break yet, Higuruma”

His heart thumped against his ribs as he saw that cute expression, he let out a breathy chuckle, “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to stay though—“

‘I might do something stupid if you do’

“I don’t mind staying. I can help out even, so you don’t have to stay so long.”

“You really don’t have to— it’s getting dark, it’s best if you go home—“

You waved your hand, your nails glistening through the dim light, “No,No— I don’t mind at all! Maybe you can get some good night’s rest after this.”

Reluctantly, Hiromi agreed for you to stay— not that he would really put up a fight to not have you in his office. He had to use all his mental strength to keep himself professional, he could not let himself do something reckless with you. Though, the sway of your hips was hypnotic as you sat yourself down by the coffee table. The minutes passed between the two, Hiromi would take notes on every document; his fingers gliding with the high lighter with such precision that made him even more attractive.

Your eyes would more often than not glance at him, seemingly sending a message that he didn’t want to believe. They would run up and down his form, noting every detail of him: his white button up that clung deliciously on his pecks, his tie was loosen enough for him to concentrate but you wanted nothing more to grip on it tightly— you bit your lip, focusing back on organizing the files.

The only thing filling the silence was the ticking from the clock that was set in the corner of his office, the movement of the hand only intensified the desire that the two of you were feeling. From an outside perspective, it was so obvious that the two of you wanted to bang each other in that office; however, it seemed that it was the two of you who were holding back.

Hiromi would look up from his documents, tired eyes would find your form like it had been doing all along; moreover, they would trace your neck, the smooth skin untouched— sensitive even. He was captivated the way your plump lips pursed out in concentration or even contemplation. Once they got to your eyes, his body jumped as your pupils stared into his.

“Something the matter, Higuruma?”

There was a honey essence to the words that lathered your lips, it only made Hiromi try to push down the desire that formed within himself. He moved some documents absentmindedly, needing to make it seem like he had been busy,

“Ah… I’m fine, fine. Did you need something?”

He couldn’t help but cringe at his dumb question, though it couldn’t be helped with you confronting him. Hiromi followed your gaze as it trailed from his lower stomach to his face in a slow torturous manner; he tried fixing himself up, fearing that he looked disheveled. But, his movements stopped as he began to realize your desire— finally accepting his own as well.

Your fingers play with the corners of the stacks of papers, your plump lips still pursed out in feign innocence, “Perhaps…”

He gulped down the anticipation that was building up in his throat, but his voice came out in a sort of husk, “what do you need?”

You pushed yourself off from the coffee table, your body flowing up like water. His eyes were fixed on the way your skirt wrinkled up and down with the friction of your thighs, watching as you came before him. As you stop right in front of him with half lidded eyes, one foot holding more weight that the other; for the first time in ages, Hiromi felt utterly small.

You leaned forward, resting your palms on each of the arm rests; his hooked nose barely touching yours, he could could count every speck of color in your pupils. The vulnerable position made him repeat his question,

“What….what do you need…?”

You inch closer, rubbing your nose lightly on his, sharing your minty breath with his, “You.”

.

.

.

Loong strokes of his tongue lapped over your clothed pussy, damping the layers that kept the two of you apart. Hiromi could feel the warmth of your thigh as it lightly placed itself over his shoulder; locking him in place. After a few moments of stimulation, he poked out his head from your skirt.

“Let me taste you… please, let me— I need it”

Your eyes glance down at him, glimmering with mischief, “Undress me then”

Hiromi felt his throat go dry, his hands hesitantly moved toward the waistband of your stockings first; his fingers hook onto it, pulling it down slowly. The color of your thighs finally revealed themselves from the mesh stockings, arousing him even more. Removing the last inches of the mesh, he threw the fabric behind him before diving into your scent once more.

The hardness of his nose nuzzled itself deeper into your panties, which made a soft sigh escape your lips. Your hand grazed lightly over his gelled hair, praising him with your touch. You could feel the sweat from the tips of his fingers as they pull down the delicate lace you wore; exposing the trail of your slick connecting from your panties to your cunt.

“Fuck,” a low needy groan escaped his lips.

Not even giving you time to breathe, he began to work his jaw as his tongue began to twist inside you—spreading your folds to taste that sweet honey. Hiromi grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing your hips into his face to let his tongue hit deeper inside you; you had to grip onto his wooden desk to not fall off.

“You taste so delicious… so fucking tasty—mm!”

He could tell you were close, your walls began to pulse with every lap— you even gripped his hair tightly, nails slightly digging in.

“Higu—-fuck! Yr’ so messy,” you rolled your hips into his face needing to feel that big nose hit your clit in the right way. You could hear the rough groans and gulps as Hiromi drank your slick. You could feel the way his lips mouthed your pussy, practically eating your insides.

Hiromi pushed himself off from his knees, the top of his lip having a glimmer of your cum that he didn’t care to wipe away.

“Lemme fuck you… please, let me put it in—Sweetheart, I’m aching for you”

He pushed his hips against your wet cunt, making you feel his throbbing member through the fabric of his pants. Every grind of his harden cock against your wet core left a beautiful stain on his pants. Your nails gripped onto his jacket which he quickly shed off.

“Yes… Yes, Higuruma—Put it in…”

“Hiromi,” he quickly corrected, needing to break away from their professional barrier. He watched as the anticipation in your eyes deepened with the added closeness.

“Hiromi. Cute name”

You leaned in to kiss him, which Hiromi was gladly willing to accept; his tongue slipping inside your mouth, lathering his wet muscle against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers rubbing circles at the soft skin of his neck.

The two of you needed to be even closer than this.

.

.

.

“Hiromi—fuck! Hiromi!”

Your high pitch whines echoed around the room accompanied by the slap of his hips against yours ass. Hiromi gripped onto your sides as he rammed his cock into your pussy, stretching you out nicely. Every time he pulled back, he could hear that lovely squelching cry that came out from your cunt. He liked the way your nails dug onto the end of the desk, leaving marks onto the expensive wood. Every buck from his hips left your body moving forward by his rhythm.

“So tight—-Sweetheart, you’re killing me”

Your gummy walls kept sucking him in even deeper. His hands were all over you: caressing the side of your breasts, caressing the fat of your ass—- each touch left you so needy for him. Bent over the desk, lying over the cold wood; you could feel his throbbing tip hit your walls from different angles causing more cries of pleasure. Your knees buckled as they began to grow numb, you could even hear the droplets of your cum hitting the wooden floor of the office.

“Hiromi—we’ll… we’ll ruin the floor! I’m dripping all over…”

Hiromi couldn’t care about the floor, he leaned forward to kiss the back of your neck, “Stop thinking about the floor. Focus on me, doll.”

Your pussy lips clung onto him, suctioning him in permanently. Tears filled your eyes as his broad chest squished your body against the desk. His teeth grazed your ears so teasingly that it made you tighten. His thrusts began to grow more rough and quick; kissing your cervix with such haste that made you beg for more.

“I-I am focused on you! Fuck, Hiromi!”

His breeding balls smacked harshly against your now puffy lips, every thrust spilled out more of your connecting slick. You clenched your teeth tightly as you felt yourself lose more control.

Hiromi brought his hand to grab your breast from under your bra, his fingers squished against your warm flesh and the cold wood. His fingers swirled your harden nipple: pinching and pulling that made your mouth drool. The sensation caused your pussy to slurp his cock, your hot slick burned against his sensitive skin. He could feel his muscle coil as hot cum began to spurt slightly. Every fleck teased your insides to wanting more.

“H-Hiromi! Hiro—guh! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You pushed your hips toward his own, with his final thrusts came to action. Hiromi’s balls squeezed tightly as his cum painted your gummy walls; your cervix expanded against your organs. You could feel your belly bulging against the wooden desk, causing a nice press. His body was atop of yours, keeping your hips locked in place to take every last drop of his seed.

A low groan erupted from his throat, “Sweetheart….mm, you were so good for me”

His fingers lightly grab your face, which was already buzzing from his touch; his lips softly pressed against yours, aching to feel your plump lips once more. You could barely comprehend what was going on, but your lips moved against his with passion that made you understand that you were his.

bf!toji becomes totally obsessed with this—knowing he can make you lose control just by touching you makes his ego go through the roof. the sweet boyfriend who hates to see you cry in public completely disappears behind closed doors. in bed, your tears mean he's doing a good job.

bf!toji gets really smug and loves to tease you about it. he’ll purposely slow down, touching the exact spot that makes you crazy, watching your eyes fill with tears while he smirks.

"look at you," he’ll whisper, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "crying already? you're so sweet for me. keep going, let me see how good it feels."

bf!toji loves to push you over the edge by building the friction until you can't take it. he’ll pin your wrists above your head, spreading your legs wide so he can look right at you while he slides all the way inside. every time he thrusts deep and hits your sweet spot, a fresh wave of tears leaks from your eyes, and he just stares down at you with a dark, heavy grin, loving how loud you gasp and sob under him.

bf!toji who will change positions just to make you cry harder. he'll flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up high so he can slide in from behind. the angle is deep and intense, and as he grips your waist hard enough to leave marks, you're burying your face in the pillows to muffle your crying. he'll lean down, his chest pressing against your back, and talk right into your ear.

"baby, let me hear it—turn your head and look at me—god, look at how wet your face is just because i'm stretching you out like this."

bf!toji decides that if you aren't crying by the end of the night, he didn't try hard enough. it becomes a game to him. he will deliberately push you over the edge, using his dick and his dirty mouth to keep you completely overwhelmed until you're shaking and crying in his arms.

“N-no, Toji you’re g-mhm! groping me!” You whined out. His fingers near your pussy dipped even lower beyond your shorts, his finger tips tickling your clit. You yelped out and threw your head back against his shoulder. His grin was wide, the scar on his lip curving with it. “There’s my sweet girl, yea?” You let out a grunt as your legs uncontrollably curled outward.

His hands cupping your tits flicked your left nipple, causing even more overstimulation. Your body jolted and squirmed as his fingers mingled with your clit his middle finger sssliidddinngg down to the entrance of your pussy. “ngh!Toji please!”

“Please what? I don’t get it?” Toji mocks your lonely plea.

“I want you to—fuck! I want you to finger me!” You yelped out loud. Toji chuckled deeply, you feel the baritone and the vibration in his chest. His finger snaked into your entrance. Slowly swirling around your gummy and sticky walls. You kissed his neck as you moaned into his mouth. The scar on his lips grazed yours as your hands traced his abs. “You’re such a perv you know that right?” You told him. Toji’s hand on your tits grasped your tit harsh. “Me? You’re the one screaming and crying on my fingers. You know how you get when you hop on this dick—”

You slapped his chest teasingly but, making your boyfriend speed up his finger menstruations. Your moans became harsher and longer. Your head thrown back even further in his shoulder. “I-I oh fuck! Gonna cum! G-gonna cum?!” You screamed out. Your body was warmer than ever, tears threatening to roll down your face. “You wanna cum baby? After calling me a perv? I think you owe me something, hm?”

With your orgasm creeping close within your body, your tummy churning in the right possible places. You sallowed your pride and—

“I’m—ugh! Sorry!!” You screamed

Toji’s hands moved faster as you cried out and gripped his biceps. Clear liquid squirted out your hole with your mouth let out the most intense breath and screams. “Good girl, that’s it.” Toji coos at you. After the waves of your orgasm stopped crashing into your soul, his fingers slid out of you. You laid against his shoulder, legs slightly twitching. “You ass. I just showered…fuck…”

“You’ll live princess.” Toji says as he sucks on his squirt and cream covered hand.

You’d been trying to suppress it all week. Truly, you had. It wasn’t your fault that Clark looked stupidly attractive in flannel, with sweat beading at his hairline and slipping beneath the collar of his t-shirt. It wasn’t your fault that his Ma and Pa had raised him right, that he helped with dinner and folded everyone’s laundry when it was finished drying on the clothesline. You couldn’t be held responsible for what happened between your thighs whenever you watched him complete miscellaneous tasks around the house, fixing whatever appliance or squeaky hinge that had been nagging Ma for the past several weeks like the perfect fucking son he was. 

So, really, you weren’t at fault for the way your kisses began lingering a bit longer than what was appropriate for his childhood home. The way your hand regularly found his thigh every night beneath the dinner table, daring to get progressively higher with each passing day. 

It was inevitable. A means to an end. A festering desideratum that was growing increasingly difficult to ignore. 

It was affecting Clark too, you could feel it. His hugs were longer. He hovered around you more than usual. Clark’s touches were always meaningful, so when he began squeezing your hips or shoulders as he slipped by you in the kitchen or living room, you knew there was intent behind it. 

It didn’t help that this was your first time visiting the Kents as his fiance. The knowledge that you were about to be married certainly didn’t help matters. Clark, along with his sweet, endearing, oh-so-oblivious parents had already been teasingly referring to you as “Mrs. Kent”, and it was more than enough to make you insane. 

For his parents’ sake, you sincerely hoped your joint desperation wasn’t as glaringly obvious to them as it was to you. Though, if the sly smiles on Ma’s face whenever she noticed the pathetically longing stares you two exchanged was any indication, you weren’t being as subtle as you thought.

Growing up, Ma had very strict rules about Clark’s girlfriends, as he’d informed you previously. She was the sweetest woman you’d ever met, if not a little old-fashioned by way of social standards (Clark’s gentlemanly charm had to come from somewhere). Which of course meant that every partner of Clark’s who spent the night at the Kent household was required to sleep in a separate bedroom. 

“As long as you’re stayin’ under my roof,” she had teased, waving a wooden spoon in mock threat. “Those are the rules. No bed sharin’ till you’re married.” 

When Clark was in high school and college, that usually meant he took the sofa while his girlfriend took his room. Back then, the spare bedroom in the Kent household had been used predominantly for extra storage, mostly for seasonal decorations and other delicate items Ma and Pa didn’t want stored in the barn. 

Recently, though, the Kents had cleaned out the space. Its “restoration” had become a bit of a passion project for Pa, who was always happiest when he had something to keep his hands busy.

Clark had inquired about it once when you were both in town visiting. He’d spotted the cans of paint in the hallway, to which Ma replied with the coolness of a cucumber and the subtlety of an elephant. 

“Just preparin’ for when we have kiddos in the house again.”

You choked on your sweet tea, and looked over at Clark to find that his blush had climbed all the way to his ears. 

“Ma,” he bemoaned. She only winked. 

One of Ma’s friends owned a ranch on the other side of town, and had introduced her to the wonders of Facebook Marketplace. Such began the spending spree that would result in brand spankin’ new (secondhand) furniture for the newly redone bedroom once Pa had finished spackling and painting. 

Clark fretted endlessly over the fact that his parents were lugging around heavy furniture on their own, and would regularly speed back to Smallville to help them if he had the spare time. When you came to visit this time around, the guest bedroom was the first place Ma had dragged you both off to, eager to show off her finds. 

“Ain’t it beautiful? Couldn’tve cost me more than a hundred-and-fifty some bucks. John’s good friends with Frank down at the hardware store in town, so we got a good deal on the paint, too. What was the shade, hon? Manchester tan, somethin’ or other? Anyway, I think it turned out pretty darn good.” 

“It looks great, Ma,” Clark complimented with a genuine smile. 

“Don’t it? Figured it would be nice not havin’ to make your poor fiance sleep on that rickety ol’ twin bed.”

There it was—the subtle confirmation that you were still expected to sleep in separate rooms. Which you would, because you respected your soon-to-be in-laws, and it wouldn’t be for much longer anyways. 

“It really does look incredible,” you agreed, filling the silence. “The wonders of Marketplace.” 

“Trouble now is gettin’ her to stop,” Pa called from the living room. “We got a crap ton of new patio furniture and nowhere to put it all!” 

“Oh, hush,” Ma scolded, and you both laughed. 

It was on day five that things became borderline unbearable. The Kents had invited some old friends over for a cookout and a bonfire. Some of the older couples’ kids had grown up alongside Clark, many of whom already had spouses and families of their own. Meaning, there were several young children in attendance, which thrilled Clark, who had been honest with you from the start about wanting a family of his own someday. 

It made perfect sense—he was incredible with kids of all ages, something you’d known for a while, having seen it secondhand on TV whenever he donned the cape to visit children’s hospitals or homeless shelters. 

Experiencing it firsthand, though? Your fucking ovaries were about to explode. 

Pa had bought some marshmallows for the kids to make s’mores, and Clark had somehow been designated the role of official stick-gatherer. You watched the kids—ranging from kindergarten to late elementary school age—follow him around like ducklings, giggling and laughing when Clark made a show of climbing all the way up an oak tree to fetch the ‘perfect stick’ for roasting marshmallows. 

One of the children, an adorable brown-haired little boy, shyly offered his first marshmallow—which was burnt to a crisp—to Clark, who accepted it with a broad smile. 

“Thanks, buddy. Is this for me?” 

His head bobbed. “Sorry. It burnt a little.” 

“Oh, that’s alright. It’s still gooey underneath. Here, watch.” 

You watched as Clark slid the charred, ashy part of the marshmallow off to reveal its perfectly melted, warm center. He sucked the mallow into his mouth, having to double down on his sticky digits as the residual bits clung to his fingers. You politely forced yourself to look away. 

The rest of the night, Clark had been seated right next to you as the adults exchanged work stories and life updates while the kids ran around chasing fireflies. Inevitably, there were more than a few prying questions shot in Clark’s direction about his interviews with Superman, which always made you grin, even if only himself and his parents knew the reason behind it. 

At some point, Clark’s arm draped around your shoulder as you rested your legs in his lap. With company around, he’d been forced to put on his hypnoglasses, but you certainly weren’t complaining. The firelight danced across his face and in the lens of his glasses, which you took every opportunity to push up his nose with a soft smile, leaning forward to peck his lips every so often. 

Mercifully, having both older couples and young children in attendance meant the night was called off relatively early, around 8pm. You both assisted with cleanup before settling in the living room to catch up on the news. Ma and Pa turned in shortly thereafter, pressing kisses to both of your foreheads before vanishing down the hallway. 

Feeling particularly greedy, you stole the chance to break the “appropriate distance” the two of you had been sitting on the sofa and cuddled up to Clark’s side with a long sigh. 

“Good day?” you ask casually. 

“Mhm,” he answers, fingertips brushing up and down your shoulder. You idly watch the TV for a few more minutes, toying with Clark’s fingers in your hand, already imagining the ring that would soon match yours. 

The quiet sounds lulled you into a state of blissful exhaustion; his parents doing their nighttime routine, the crickets chirping through the open window, the low conversation from the television, playing a gameshow of some sort. 

After a few moments of silence, you snuck a glance over the sofa, peeking to see if his parents’ door had shut yet. Clark followed your gaze curiously, about to ask what you were looking at, when you pinched his chin between your fingers and brought your mouth to his. 

A pleasant hum rumbled from the back of his throat as he immediately returned the kiss. His hand cradled the side of your neck, fingers brushing against your thumping pulse as you kissed, deep and slow. 

You part for air, and Clark’s mouth trails along your jaw, unhurried and without much finesse, seemingly content just to be touching you. Your eyes once again land on the closed door of his parents’ bedroom, weighing the risk before making your decision and swinging a leg over his lap. 

Clark, clearly a little surprised, laughs nervously as his hands find your hips. “Honey,” he warns. “What are you—” 

“Shh,” you hush him with a smirk and a finger to his lips, before kissing him again and carding your fingers through his soft curls. 

He hums in bliss, grip tightening on your hips before his hands travel up and down your sides. “It feels so good to kiss you,” he whispers into your mouth. 

Your breathing hitches, desire roaring to life deep in your belly, demanding attention. 

“Yeah,” you agree softly. 

You kiss for as long as you dare, tongues slipping into hot mouths and hands staying mostly PG; Clark wisely keeps you planted a safe distance away from his pelvis. 

When you finally part, panting for air, you sit there for several long moments. The chorus of sounds has changed, slightly. Clark’s heavy breathing intermingled with your own; the subtle-soft rustle of his palms against your blouse as he caresses you. The crickets still chirp, reminding you of the hour, and you reluctantly open your eyes. 

“We should probably go to bed,” you say, though you don’t mistake the sadness in your voice for anything other than it is—a thorn in your side for not being able to do anything other than kiss. “Ma said something about the Farmer’s Market tomorrow.” 

Clark’s head tips back against the couch, his blue eyes drowning in a sea of black as he catalogues the look on your face. He licks his lips in consideration, and your traitorous core flips in arousal at the sight. 

“Yeah,” he eventually—reluctantly—agrees. 

You drag yourselves down the hallway, taking turns in the bathroom as you prepare to weather the storm of spending another dreadful night apart. 

The Kent family home is small; a three bedroom, one bathroom ranch that had little room for much more than its Midwestern charm. It was an older house too, built by Pa’s grandfather in the 1920s; it had been refurbished, just enough to keep up with the times, but the bones of the house were old. Creaky floorboards and chipped paint. An extremely temperamental HVAC system. And, of utmost concern to you and Clark, thin walls.

All the bedrooms lined one hallway near the back of the house; the bathroom and his parents’ room on the left, the guest room on the right, and Clark’s bedroom tucked at the end of the hall. Everyone was snug as a bug in a rug, as the saying went.

Lucky you.

The air between you tonight feels inexplicably more charged than usual, and you have a sinking suspicion the make-out session you’d initiated had something to do with it. 

“Goodnight,” you say softly, turning to face Clark from the doorway to the guest bedroom.

Clark blinks at you in consideration, before leaning down to give you one final kiss. It’s soft and almost unbearably slow. His hand cradles your jaw, thumb brushing your skin. Your lips hover, brushing one another before either of you can bring yourselves to pull away. The pad of his thumb tugs gently at your lower lip. 

“Goodnight,” he whispers. 

And then he’s gone, floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he retreats into his bedroom at the end of the hallway. You take a deep breath, needing a moment to collect yourself before shutting your own door and pressing your forehead against it. Get a grip. 

You try to distract yourself by doing some light reading before bed, just enough to make your eyes heavy. Of course, it doesn’t work, and an hour after you’ve put your book down and turned off all the lights, you can’t sleep. 

Your mind is consumed by the memory of Clark twisting open a jar of strawberry jam for Ma earlier today, and the how he’d sucked some of the jam off of his thumb. Then it flashes to the effortless way he’d carried several 400-pound hay bales over his head, across acres of farmland, all so his Pa could save some diesel on the tractor as you watched from the kitchen window. Then you remember how he’d immediately gulped down two full glasses of his Ma’s homemade lemonade, watching the condensation wet his fingers and the way his throat muscles moved as he swallowed. 

It’s too much. Too much temptation packed into a 1,300 square foot ranch, in the shape of 240 pounds of farm-bred Kryptonian muscle. Five unbearable days with only fleeting touches and lingering kisses, until tonight, when you got a taste of something more. You two had gone far longer without sex—you know this logically—but being in such close proximity and watching him around his parents and interacting with children has done irreparable damage. 

Your hand is slipping beneath your pajama shorts without you even making the conscious decision. 

Fuck, the way he’d smelled tonight, like burning wood and smoke, his skin warm and almost glowing as a result of spending all day in the sun. Around the campfire, you couldn’t help but caress his five o’clock shadow at any chance you got, imagining the scruff of his stubble chafing your inner thighs. 

Clark loved to eat pussy. 

Your fingers easily find your aching clit, but the touches are all wrong. Your fingers aren’t rough enough, aren’t large enough, can’t get the right angle. 

After tonight, it was impossible not to imagine him with your own children in a very near future. The thought of him cradling an infant in his massive arms; a toddler climbing all over his back, sitting on his equally massive shoulders. You weren’t even sure it would be possible to conceive with him yet, but fuck were you content to imagine it. 

You’re dripping already; it was second nature. A Pavlovian response. Your fingers are a poor substitution for the real thing, but it would have to do. He’s so close and so fucking far, and it makes your blood hot. 

“Clark,” you fail to bite back the weak moan, your hips shifting around on the bed as you curl your fingers. God, a part of you hopes he’s awake, knowing he could probably hear the way you’re touching yourself, moaning his name, nearly in tears from how much you need him. 

It’s when you’re finally on the precipice of a very underwhelming orgasm that you hear the same creaking floorboards and freeze. Your ears hone in on the sound, trying to brush it off as being Ma or Pa getting up to use the bathroom, which wasn’t uncommon. But the gait is undeniably heavier, and far too careful to be either of his parents. 

Then you hear the doorknob turn. 

You twist in the sheets, hastily pulling your hand out of your pajama shorts. You blink blearily at the door, watching as it creaks open slowly to reveal none other than your 6’4” fiance. 

“Clark? E-everything okay?” you call out in a whisper as he carefully shuts the door, wincing at the way it squeaks. You hear a click, and your stomach swoops with the realization that it’s the lock. 

He turns to you, a looming, impressive shadow in the darkness of the guest room. He’s at the foot of the bed in two large steps, clambering onto the double-size mattress. The sudden shift of weight makes the mattress groan, a deafening sound in the stillness of night, and your eyes widen in surprise. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

“I think I should be asking you that,” is all the explanation you get before Clark’s lips are back over yours. The kiss is slow, but it’s filthy. Nothing like the ones you shared earlier on the sofa. All tongue and lips and teeth as he hovers over you. Your legs kick out of the sheets, instinctively locking around his lower back, and you barely bite back a moan as he settles some of his weight onto you. 

“Gosh, you’re unbelievable,” he breathes into you. “Touchin’ yourself like that when I’m barely a wall away. Could’ve just asked me, baby.” 

You shudder, and the arousal is a burn that rips through your body. “Oh god, Clark. We- we really shouldn’t- your parents—” 

“I know, baby. I know, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t take it anymore. You’ve been drivin’ me insane all week, sweetheart.” He slid his hands up your chest, groping your tits over your pajama top. “I…I heard you. Jolted me right awake; thought I was dreamin’ at first. But then I heard your sweet little moan, the little wet sounds of your pussy. Your heartbeat, honey. Like a little jackrabbit.”

You tip your head back against the pillow, breathing hard. “C-Clark, god, you can’t say things like that—” 

“I know how much you want it,” he breathes, hips bearing down between yours, and shit, he’s fully hard. You haven’t felt him like this in over a week, and it’s overwhelming. “I want it too.” 

Dark and quiet as it is, everything feels amplified; despite the very real threat of his parents overhearing, it’s like the two of you are in a vacuum, cut off from the rest of the world. You feel Clark everywhere, and yet it’s not enough to satisfy the insatiable beast that is frothing from between the cage of your thighs, desperate for reprieve. 

Of course, wanting what you realistically can’t—or shouldn’t—have has only made matters worse. 

“Baby,” Clark pants as you run your hands down his back, slipping beneath his soft t-shirt. “I can- oh gosh, I can s-smell how wet you are.” 

“Fucking hell,” you curse, and kiss him again. “I want you so bad, Clark. But this…this fucking bed is probably older than both of us combined, and it’s so loud, I—” 

“I know,” he responds between kisses. “I know, honey.” 

“I- maybe we could- you could just use your fingers? And I could do the same?” you suggest, though it’s weak, even to your own ears. You know Clark won’t object to anything you offer, but it was crystal clear what he really wanted. What you both wanted.

Clark lets out a whine, low in the back of his throat, concealing it in the crook of your neck. “Mmm. If- I mean, that’s- that’s probably the smart thing to do…”

“But not what we really want,” you finish, brushing your nose against his cheek. 

“No,” he agrees, before licking into your mouth. The soft, wet sound of your mouths causes your head to spin, heavy with desire. You can feel the blood rush in your ears, down the length of your neck, flushing the surface of your skin. 

“Baby,” you whisper when you part for breath, voice shaking with a mix of longing and crumbling restraint. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling his hips flush against yours. Your fingers pull through his hair as your pelvises build a steady grind, slow enough so as not to cause the bed to squeak but enough to drive you insane as his stiff cock ruts against your clothed pussy. “I- I can’t fucking take it anymore. I need you.” 

Clark shudders, mouthing beneath your jaw. “I need you too, honey.” His lips hover over yours, words an urgent, needy whisper. “Wanna give you my cock so much, sweetheart. So, so much.” 

“Oh god, Clark,” your voice shatters around his name. Your pussy flutters at the mere idea of having his cock inside you. You need him so bad you could cry. “Seeing you w-with those kids today…” 

Clark groans instantly, understanding the implication. “Yeah? Imagining they were ours?” 

“Mmm. Yes.” 

“I know, I was too,” he admits, sucking a bruise into your skin that you will definitely regret in the morning. “You’d like that, huh? Makin’ a family with me?” 

“Fuck, I- you know I would, Clark.” 

“Gosh, yes. I’d give it to you in a heartbeat, my love.” 

“Please,” you whine, and you truly can’t remember a time where you’ve been this desperate for sex. “I’ll book the fucking appointment tomorrow. Get my—mm, fuck—get my IUD taken out.” 

The sound that escapes Clark’s throat is a mixture of pity and pain. “Oh gosh. honey, I- you’re not being fair.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whimper. 

“We- maybe we can just go slow?” he suggests. “So slow, I promise. Won’t even put it all the way in. It won’t be loud that way, if we go slow. We can be quiet, if we…if we’re careful.” 

“I don’t want it slow,” you breathe, and that’s the entire problem, isn’t it? Clark lets out another low-pitched whine, and says your name like a curse. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, too,” you continue, pausing to give him a slow, deep kiss. “I just…I just wanna fuck, Clark.”

Your hand snakes between your flush bodies, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and bypassing his boxers completely. Clark jerks, burying his face in your shoulder with a sharp exhale. The heat and weight of him makes the burgeoning desire in your gut increase tenfold; he’s hot and thick and fully hard. Your goddamn mouth starts salivating like it’s competing with your sopping pussy for his attention. 

“W-we…we have to be c-careful, honey,” Clark repeats as he pumps slowly into your hands. That simple movement alone makes the mattress groan with the sound of shifting fabric. “I can…fu- baby, gosh- I can listen to make sure they don’t wake up, but I’ll have to focus. And this bed—” 

“Please,” you beg, heart pounding as you listen to his breathing increase the longer you stroke him. Your own restraint is falling apart at the seams; you’re about one Clark-moan away from throwing all caution to the wind. “Forget what I said earlier, I don’t care. I- please, Clark. I need you so bad.” 

“Honey, I- oh—” He’s cut off when your fist focuses furiously on the weeping head of his cock. 

“Do you want to come on my fist, or in my pussy?” you ask. You know you’re playing dirty, but you need him in you. Now. 

“Holy- th-that’s so mean,” he whines. 

You mouth at his jaw. “Clark Joseph Kent, if you don’t put your cock in me right fucking now—” 

“Good gosh, I- okay, okay.” He plants desperate kisses on your lips, firmly yanking your wrist away from his cock, desperate for a break. “Just- are you-” 

“I’m fine, Clark. More than ready. Please just…just fuck me,” you demand, nipping at his earlobe. 

“Okay. I- okay, gosh, hold on-” 

It’s a frantic tangle of limbs and swatting hands as you both try and wiggle free of as minimal clothing as necessary without jolting the bed too much. The comforter is thrown off the bed. You blindly yank Clark’s sweats and boxers down enough to fully free his cock, while he fumbles for the waistband of your sleep shorts, cursing sweetly as he struggles with the tie. It probably doesn’t help that you’ve started jerking him off again, smearing the resulting bead of pre-cum over his sensitive tip. 

“Stupid freaking-” 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter, growing impatient. “Just rip it off, Clark.” 

“But you hate when I-” 

“Rip it.” 

He doesn’t need to be told a third time. The fabric snaps the second his fists close around the tiny strings, and even that small display of his strength makes your clit fucking throb. 

His fingers are on you the instant your shorts and panties are gone, rubbing messily over your folds. It’s likely for his own peace of mind, despite your insistence that you were adequately prepared for him. It feels good nonetheless, so you aren’t about to complain. 

“Oh, gosh,” he marvels, thick fingers circling your clit as he glances between you. “You’re soaked, honey. Even wetter than I thought.” 

“I told you,” you shudder. “Now fuck me.” Your hand, still on his cock, guides him to your waiting pussy, slipping the head through your labia and making you both moan softly. 

“Fuck,” Clark curses. 

“Clark Joseph,” you gasp, the profanity deliciously foreign coming from his tongue. “Did you just—”

“This is a serious matter,” Clark insists as he thrusts his hips torturously slowly. The head of his cock catches on your clit and another moan slips out of you. “See? That right there.” Your eyes widen when Clark’s palm moves to cover your mouth. “Gotta focus if we wanna be quiet.” 

His words only make you whimper, the sound mostly smothered against his hand. 

“Quiet,” he scolds again, but then he’s pushing in. The initial stretch burns, as it normally does (you definitely could’ve benefited from some extra lubrication, but desperate times call for desperate measures). However, the flicker of pain is quickly doused with sheer relief, like your body is sighing at the solace of finally getting him inside you. 

Clark’s hand abandons your mouth in favor of supporting his weight as he half-collapses onto his forearm. The first thrust of his hips tests the waters; a little overzealous on Clark’s side, succeeding in making the rickety old bed frame squeal once, loudly. You both hold stock-still, allowing you to acclimate to his size and him to listen intently for any signs of life in his parents’ room.

Clark looks down at you in silence. Nothing. 

You release your bated breath and drag him into a kiss. “Move,” you hiss, sounding like a total brat, but neither of you seem to care. 

Clark obliges, pumping his hips slower this time, the motion more fluid as he disperses his weight across his whole body rather than planting his knees on the mattress. 

It seems to be working, the sound of your joint heavy breathing being the loudest sound in the room. That is of course until you shift positions just slightly, and the fucking Marketplace-monstrosity of a bed frame groans loudly in protest. 

A huff of agitation escapes you. “Oh fuck that’s— it’s loud, Clark. Why is it so fucking loud?” 

“Shit,” he curses desperately. “Maybe- here, pull the sheets up—” 

“That’s not going to do anything!” 

“Well, I don’t know!” Clark exclaims in a whisper-yell. “I’m trying to help! I- oh gosh, honey, I can’t pull out of you now—” 

You lock your legs around him in warning. “Don’t you dare.” 

“I’m not, I’m not.” 

Your head flops back against the pillows in frustration. “Just…they’re still asleep, right?” 

Clark pauses to listen. “For now, yeah.” 

“So…” you can’t believe you’re about to suggest this. Morning-you is going to be so fucking embarrassed. “…just…just keep going, and stop if you hear them wake up.” 

Clark lets out a pained groan. “That’s easier said than done when I’m balls deep inside you, honey. I can’t focus on making you come and listening for the slightest rustle of awareness across the hallway.” 

You wiggle your hips, pulling another wounded sound from Clark’s chest. “Please,” you resort to begging, yet again. “Clark, I- I’m so sexually frustrated and I finally have your dick inside me and you’re just fucking- we’re not even- I can’t—” 

Clark must take pity on you, because he’s soothing you with quick pecks across your face and neck. “Honey, I know, I know. I’m sorry. Oh, my sweet girl. I’m sorry.” He starts moving again, the same slow, fluid movements as before. The bed squeaks beneath you, but it’s not too loud, you think. 

Clark continues, “I wish I could fuck you how you need, baby. But we gotta be quiet. Shhh, shhh. I know. Just try and take what I’m giving you. Want me to rub your little clit? Will that help?” 

You nod, only slightly horrified as you feel tears well in your eyes from the sheer frustration of it all. Clark coos praises and apologies into your ear as his fingers gently circle your swollen clit, but it’s not enough. 

Sure, it feels good, amazing even, but it’s not what you’d been craving. Not the itch you needed scratched. 

“Jus’ a little harder?” you beg, your voice a wet, sultry whisper against his ear as you bury your fingers in his hair. “Please? Please Clark?” 

He buries his groan against your chest, mumbling a slew of frustrated, mostly incoherent words that sound something like “gonna be the death of me” and “can’t handle when you beg me for it”. But then, abruptly, the pace changes yet again. The movement ceases, just for a moment. He shifts his weight above you. His hips snap—once, twice, thrice. Still slow, but firmer. Sharper. Deeper.

“Oh—” 

Anticipating your moan, his free hand flies back to your mouth, effectively cutting off the incriminating sound. He hushes you gently as his eyes bore down into yours. 

The bed is…well, it’s definitely making noise now. The box springs make their presence known, creaking with every forward motion. Unfortunately, you’re too cock-drunk to pay it much attention. 

At the very least, it’s not like the headboard is obnoxiously slamming against the wall. Just…if someone happened to pass by the door, it would probably be fairly obvious what was happening on the other side. Which, horrifically, turns you on even more. 

Of course, you know Clark would never let something like that actually happen—nor would you want it to—but the thought of it, the risk of it, makes your stomach twist around itself in arousal. The notion that he’s fucking you in his childhood home with his sleeping parents a stone’s throw away has you hornier than you thought humanly possible. 

The fingers on your throbbing clit speed up, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull. 

“C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gotta come on this cock. Know you want to. Wanting me to make you a wife and a mommy in the same calender year, my greedy girl. All with my parents right down the hall, sound asleep. Gonna look them in the eyes tomorrow morning, honey? Knowin’ I snuck into your room just hours prior? That my cum was dripping down your thighs?” 

From behind his sweaty palm, a muted chorus of “yeah, yeah, yeah” punches out of you on the crest of every sharp thrust.

Clark smothers you; with his body and his words and his kisses, his tongue just beneath your ear, his forearms caging you beneath his broad frame. Your nails dig into his back for dear life, thighs tense around his hips as every ounce of your focus narrows in on the pleasure.

“Shhh, baby,” he whispers, breath hot and voice shaking. “I know it- I know it feels good, but you gotta be quiet. Can’t let you come if you can’t be quiet.” 

You need to come more than you need air to breathe, so you force your shaking body to obey, swallowing your own sounds and digging your nails further into his impenetrable skin.

“Yes, baby,” he praises. “There we go. Nice and quiet. Can I have my hand back, now?” 

You nod shakily, breathing fast and hard, as Clark leans in to kiss you. The fingers swirling over your clit make a ‘v’ as they slip down to stimulate your outer lips of your vulva. Your thighs twitch around his hips, signaling your rapidly-approaching release. 

“F-fuck, Clark,” you whine into his open mouth. “I- I can’t, I—” 

“Yes, baby. Right there. Let it happen. Come on my cock, baby. It’s yours.” 

You shatter with a high-pitched whine, one that Clark suffocates against his still-clothed chest as he quickly presses your face into his breast bone. Your pussy constricts around him, spasming uncontrollably as he works to prolong your high. 

“I know, baby. I know, I- oh, that- that…I c-can feel you around me, so tight…it’s g-gonna make me come, honey—” 

The hand not cradling your head fists into the pillow beside you. His sharp, jagged thrusts—the ones originally intended for your pleasure—change a final time, turning frantic in a way that signals his own impending orgasm. Beneath your writhing bodies, the bed groans and shifts. Surely the headboard rams against the wall at least once, maybe twice. You don’t keep track, solely focused on your hypersensitive cunt as it throbs and clenches around Clark, egging him on. 

“C-come inside me, baby,” you plead into his ear, like that’s even a question.

“Did you m-mean it?” he asks suddenly, catching you a bit off-guard. His voice shakes as his hips falter. 

“Mean what?” you barely get out. 

“What you said about…about starting a family?” 

The tenderness of the question hits you square in the chest, and suddenly the emotion in your eyes has an entirely different meaning. 

“Yes,” you breathe, kissing the side of his face. “I love you so much, Clark. I wanna make a baby with you, m-make a family together.”

He whimpers, shortly before biting down on your shoulder in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. His hips stutter and still, cock pressed as deeply inside your pussy as he can get at this angle. He comes hard, the deliciously bizarre sensation of his cum filling your pussy pulling a final, blissed moan from you. He finally stills above you, struggling to steady his breathing. 

“Golly. Sweetheart,” he exhales, and you both let out disbelieving chuckles. He pulls back to look at you, still catching his breath as you feel his cock soften inside of you. “Did we really just…” 

“Have sex under your parents’ roof with them sleeping just across the hall? Yes we did,” you say, trying not to let the post-orgasm regret pull you under. 

Clark laughs again, kissing you on the nose before nuzzling into your neck. You love it when he tries to tuck his massive frame into your body; it’s adorable. 

“Mm. Worth it.” 

You can’t help but agree. 

You spend a few quiet minutes catching your breath and coming down from your highs. You run your fingers through Clark’s hair, something you know he loves after sex. 

“Need’ta pee,” you protest tiredly when you feel him start to go slack above you. 

“Mmm. Yeah. Yeah, m’kay,” Clark says slowly, like his brain is still catching up. He rolls off of you and you search blindly for your underwear, settling instead on Clark’s boxers which are the first thing you stumble upon. You carefully slip to the bathroom, cringing a little at the feel of his cum sliding down your inner thighs. You clean yourself up and use the toilet, trying not to think too hard about his Ma and Pa, sleeping soundly in the room next door. 

When you return to the guest room, Clark holds up a finger, then presses it swiftly to his lips, eyes closing in focus. 

“What? What’s wrong?” you whisper, feeling more awake all of the sudden. You lock the door—just in case—and tiptoe back to the bed. 

“I think Ma woke up,” he whispers back as you climb into his waiting arms. “Probably heard you in the bathroom.” 

Despite yourself, you feel your cheeks heat. “Well…they get up all the time, right? It’s not uncommon to get up and pee in the middle of the night.” 

“No, it’s not,” he agrees with a yawn. “Just…I should head back to my room soon. Don’t wanna fall asleep and have’ta sneak out in the morning.” 

You giggle, “god, it’s like we’re in high school or something.” 

Clark smiles back. “Yeah.” 

You snuggle into his chest, pleased to find that he’d taken off his t-shirt, finally. You always appreciated the skin-to-skin contact when you slept. So does Clark, so you’re not surprised when his own hands reach for the hem of your pajama top and lift it over your head. 

He makes a satisfied sound and presses a single kiss to your sternum before you settle back on his chest. Clark lifts the sheets back over you both, fingers gliding down your back in soft lines. 

“Love you,” he whispers into your hair. 

“Love you too,” you respond. 

For now, you’re beyond content to lay in his arms, listening to his soft breathing and the strong thump-thump of his heart. 

~

You wake to the sound of the Kent’s rooster, announcing the wee hours of the morning. As you groggily emerge from slumber, a few more things begin to cloud your senses. Chiefly among them, the smell of bacon, wafting in from the kitchen. Mm. Delicious. And the weight of Clark’s arm, comfortably slung across your—

Wait. 

You shoot up in bed, waking Clark up in the process, who startles with a sleepy-eyed huff.

“Clark, oh my god,” you gasp. 

“Wha- what is it?” he asks groggily, rubbing at his eyes. 

“You fell asleep in bed!” you hiss, eyes wide with panic. And from the smell of it, his parents were already awake. Just perfect. 

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. Do you think they noticed?!” you ask urgently, rooting around for your clothes on the floor. 

Clark relinquishes a deep sigh, leaning on his elbows as his head thunks back against the headboard in defeat. “Knowing my Ma, definitely.” 

“Oh my god,” you repeat, standing now. “She’s going to know that we- that you—” 

“Sweetheart, we’re engaged,” Clark reassures you. “And…adults, before that. She’s not that ignorant. And she won’t hate you if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just…a little, well. I guess it is a little, uh, mortifying.” 

Your head falls into your hands, and Clark has the audacity to chuckle. “Maybe she didn’t notice,” you say. “Maybe she hasn’t checked your room yet, and you can still—”

As if by divine intervention, a swift knock sounds at the door. 

“Breakfast’s ready, honey. Taters and eggs, and bacon fresh from the butcher.” 

“Oh, alright! Be out in a few, Ma. Thank you!” you call out, hoping you sound less shaky then you feel. Even if she hadn’t noticed yet, she definitely heard you talking to each other, and there’s no way you could explain that. 

Then, with an air of mischief lining her Midwestern twang, Ma adds, “tell Clark there’s plenty for him, too!"

clark’s soft lips peppered kisses all over your cute face, each one wet and desperate. the weight of his hips forced your thighs open, his heavy cock sitting snugly in your tight pussy, squeezing and fluttering around him. he trails down to your tits, groping them lewdly with a fascination, licking his lips to stop himself from drooling when each squeeze rewards him with a soft spurt of milk, “golly…” he whispers. he leans down to press a kiss to your leaking nipple, sweeping his tongue over to catch a taste. “been thinking about this all day…thank you s’much honey,” he murmured gently before leaning down and taking your bud into his mouth. focusing on one and coaxing more milk out of the other, switching between the two.

the room was fairly quiet, only if you block out clark’s whiny moans, hips jerking occasionally, wet cunt cockwarming him as he sucked eagerly at your tits. you can catch onto the faint rhythmic swallowing, along with the soft appreciative groan or satisfied hum he makes when the milk lets down. he is so adamant to not let any go to waste, “you taste so good sweetheart…so good,” he mindlessly mumbles when a stray drop slides down your skin, his tongue quickly catching it, kissing his way back up to your nipple.

you could feel his cock twitch desperately, “clark honey..cmon, move a little,” you encourage shakily. he nodded with no hesitation, “o-okay, anything for you sweetheart- ngh, o-oh, feels so good,” he whimpered, fucking up into you, using one hand to pull your hips closer.

his massive frame pinned you beneath him, every thrust felt like it touched your soul, he was so deep in, stretching your walls so good, clit twitching as his happy trail brushed against you. usually, clark is a talker, always praising you, telling you how good you make him feel, but today? he was completely focussed on sucking the milk out of your tits. “please- mmn- pleasepleaseplease,” he whines, drinking from you like it was his life’s work.

he pulled away whilst pounding into you, “o-oh! oh sweetheart! mngh ah, so good- y-you’re so good to me- i’m so close!” huge biceps wrapping around you to hug you tight and breed his cum into you, offering deep shallow thrusts, his rhythm messy now that he was approaching his orgasm. “ah! ohh- m’gonna cum! ungh- please! please!!”

you moan, eyes rolling back as you clamp down, “fuck! oh! clark- ah, yes yesyes! cmon baby, m’so close!” tugging at his soft messy curls when he leans back down for one last harsh suck, moaning around your nipple when he slams into your wet pussy with one last thrust, stilling as his cum gushes out in thick heavy spurts, coating your fleshy insides with a gooey white. the vibrations of his sweet groan against your tit tipped you over the edge. gripping his leaky dick as the warm orgasm in your tummy releases.

your trembling hands cup his cheeks whilst you catch your breathe. clark’s careful not to crush you as he kisses up your warm face. “so good for me, you did so well, mmwah, love you so much,” you smile with a tired huff, “love you too clark.”

the thick haze of sex slowly cleared. all that was left was the soft ruffling of the sheets and clark’s steady breathing. he quickly headed to the bathroom and returned with a warm towel, the soft pink dusting his cheeks still lingering as he shyly looked up to your through his messy hair.

“are you okay?” he whispered, placing the towel down before laying next to you, pulling up the blankets to tuck you in. “i..i didn’t hurt you did i?”

“Hi, honey,” he murmured softly as he dropped a fresh mug of coffee on your desk. He still whispered his sweet words as if half the bullpen didn’t know you were together.

“Thank you,” you reply with a small smile up at him.

God, he was extra handsome today. Or maybe you were just ovulating. Maybe both.

Definitely both.

“I like this tie on you,” you note, fingers reaching up to play with the dark red fabric.

His cheeks went a little pink. “Someone very special got it for me, ya know?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He gulped, those dimples poking into his cheeks as he looked down at you like you’d hung the stars. You could swallow him whole.

“Can I come over tonight?”

You chuckle. “Yeah. I’d prefer if you did.”

He nodded again, just looking at you, taking in a deep breath. You took in how he let his eyes wander over you briefly. Maybe you weren’t the only one feeling it.

Two months, three weeks, and four days.

That’s how long since your first date, and how long you’d been waiting for him to make a move. He was so kind and chivalrous. To a fault. He’d kissed you. He told you about Superman, as if you hadn’t already figured that out. He’d slept in your bed and held your hand and made you breakfast. But he had yet to hold you down and make you forget your own name.

It was getting a little old.

You’d talked to Lois about it a few days ago over brunch.

It was a Sunday, french toast and mimosas between the two of you. The first Sunday of every month, in fact. It was a ritual. Time to decompress and talk to someone who would endlessly ‘yes, and’ you. In a healthy way.

“I am just so… fed up.”

“What? Why?” She laughed a little, sipping on her fourth mimosa of the afternoon.

You sighed. “Clark.”

“Yeah? What’s farm boy doing now? I thought you two were going well.”

“We are. Like… really well. He’s sweet and kind and perfect in almost every way.”

She raises a brow. “So what’s the problem?”

You fiddled with your fork, looking into your empty glass.

“I’m horny.”

She laughed outright.

“I’m serious!” you exclaimed. “He’s so polite. He kisses me and cuddles me, but every time I feel his hands on me I just want to grab them and shove them between my legs. Like what gives?! It’s been almost three months!”

“He’s just… polite. It’s probably some chivalry thing his parents instilled. You know him, all his Midwestern charm.”

“Well, I’d like some Midwestern dick.”

She snorted. “So tell him.”

“I can’t just tell him that.”

“Why not?”

“Lois. Be serious. He’d explode. If I look at him too lustfully his cheeks go bright red,” you reply with a short laugh. “I can’t exactly tell him to just pull out his cock.”

“Then… make him want to.”

“Make him?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Like… tease him a little. Make him want it.”

You pursed your lips. “That… might actually work. Breadcrumb him.”

“Yeah. Sexy breadcrumbs.”

You laughed. But she was right. So you did. Throughout the week, you’d been extra flirtatious. Trying to take it slow, not overwhelm him.

But a girl can only hold out so long. So you did the next best thing to a straight out proposition. A heavy suggestion.

You tug on his tie gently. “Maybe we can order takeout and stay in? It’s a Friday night, we can have a sleepover.”

He flushes even deeper, then nods quickly.

“Oh. Uh… y-yeah. Yes. Yeah, I’ll plan to stay overnight then?”

“You do that.”

“O-okay. Yes, ma’am,” he replies, voice a little shaky as he tries for a small smile.

Clark waddled back over to his desk, trying very hard to hide the fact that he now had a prominent bulge straining against the front of his slacks. He’d been trying to be good. He wanted to make sure she knew he liked her, not just that he wanted to… do other stuff. But he did really want to do other stuff.

It was hard. Mentally and physically.

Two months, three weeks, and four days.

That’s how long since your first date, and the first time he let himself jerk off to the thought of you. He didn’t mean to, honestly.

You just looked so pretty that night.

He made it back to his apartment, floating on cloud nine, and maybe, briefly, actually floating. He’d finally taken out the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and even got to give her a polite kiss at her front door. What felt less polite was the way she looked at him afterward. He had decided on a shower after he’d texted that he made it home safely, and that was mistake number one.

Mistake number two was letting himself reflect on that date.

He ended up thrusting his cock into his fists, pretending it was you. Your hands, your mouth, your… that finished him off. It also sent him on a downward spiral. He couldn’t stop himself from his hands wandering a few times a week with you on the brain. It really didn’t help when he’d smelled your arousal for the first time on your second date. He’d looked up at you on his knee while tying your shoelace that had come undone. He didn’t think it was a particularly sexy event. Clearly, according to his nose, you very much did. He wished you’d stop looking at him like you wanted to eat him whole. But… no. He actually didn’t.

You looked at him like that just now.

He settled into his desk chair, trying to distract himself the rest of the day. But your eyes and your hands and your mouth and body and everything was stuck on a loop in his brain.

Once the clock strikes five, you’re up, packing your things. You make a beeline for Clark’s desk, finding him doing the same with still-pink cheeks.

“Ready?”

“Huh?” He looks up with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Oh. Yes. Yeah, I’m just… I’m almost done.”

You wait until he’s finished, then walk home together. You only lived a few blocks away, a couple building past Clark’s apartment. Yours was smaller, less modern. But extremely cozy. You hang up your bag and keys, toeing off your shoes. Clark does the same, gripping onto the bag of Chinese takeout you’d picked up along the way.

“You get that article done?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Perry had me on a story about some big fundraiser event. Not the most thrilling news, but not every story can be a Superman exclusive,” he replies with a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah. Supes is real hard to get a hold of, huh?” You tease, taking the food from him to start plating it up for the both of you.

“Totally.” He laughs softly, trailing after you to watch you. “How’d you do with those edits? Working with interns can be a little…”

“Shitty?”

“I’d say more stressful, but…”

“But you’re too sweet to be honest.”

He smiles again, pushing his glasses up into his hair. Unfairly sexy. You glance away from him, swallowing.

“What?” he asks gently, his voice even deeper somehow.

“What?” You look back at him.

He raises a brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s like he was scientifically engineered in a lab to make you horny. You have to tear your eyes away again.

“You can’t look at me.”

“Yes I can. I’m just… busy.”

Clark pouts a little. Then, he decides to be a little bolder. It’s been long enough.

“Liar. I can smell you, you know?”

“My perfume is pretty—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, I mean… I can smell you. Like… your reactions. When you’re excited.”

You feel your face pale. “Pardon?”

“I just… it’s nice. You smell good.”

“Clark—”

“It’s kinda musky and sweet. A little bitter but not in a bad way.”

“Clark!”

“Sorry,” he huffs a small laugh, chewing his lip for a moment. He can tell you’re embarrassed, but he can’t manage to feel bad about it. “It’s hot.”

“Are you trying to make me implode?” You frown, looking at him and ignoring the pulsing between your legs.

“I’m trying to express that I’m… That it’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

You raise a brow. “Whenever I’m ready?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I’ve been ready since our first date.”

He swallows. “Oh.”

You just stare at him for a minute, then hand over his food and a fork.

“Here. This is like half of the container so when you’re ready for more it’ll be out here—"

He engulfs you before you could finish the sentence, his big arms tugging you into his chest. Before you can think to ask another question, his lips are on yours.

You’d kissed before, quite a few times now. But not like this. Not with intent.

You hum into his mouth, legs going a little shaky under you as his tongue prods at your lips, begging to be let in. You oblige his silent request, moaning properly when you feel him licking against the inside of your mouth. You try to keep up, hands tangling in his dark hair. You toss his glasses onto the counter haphazardly.

“Hey, careful,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Sorry. Bit distracted right now.”

He chuckles, his smile bright. You let your eyes flit down to his lips and over his face.

“You’re like… extra sexy.”

“Extra sexy?”

You nod. “I can’t stop staring at you today.”

“Oh. Well, you’re ovulating. Natural response,” he says with a shrug, trying to kiss you again.

“Whoa, what— excuse me?”

“Hm?” He kisses you again.

“Baby, Clark,” you huff, holding his face. “How do you even know that.”

“Told ya…” Another kiss. “I can smell you. Just about finished in my pants when I realized you were last month.”

“Oh my god.”

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Didn’t mean to make it a habit, but I can’t stop touching myself when I think about you. You’re the best bad habit I’ve ever had.”

You almost melt, but he slides his hands under your thighs before you can. You let him press his tongue back into your mouth as he pulls you up against him. You squirm in his arms, holding on tightly. He starts walking to the couch, but you lean back, shaking your head.

“Bedroom.”

“Bedroom?”

“More room for you.”

He smiles. “You’re sweet.”

“And you’re big. Let me take advantage of that,” you respond with an equal grin.

“You have no idea,” he mumbles under his breath.

He brings you to your bedroom, laying you down like you’re something especially precious. He climbs on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight as he kisses you again. You kiss him back, hands drifting down his neck and to the buttons of his dress shirt. You tug on the tie you’d gifted him first, pulling the dark red material from his neck. Then, onto the shirt. You slip the buttons out of place one by one until you’re able to push it off his shoulders. A guy shouldn’t look this sexy in a tank top undershirt, but you were certain Clark could manage to look sexy dressed up as the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.

“C’mere,” he whispers softly, pulling your top off next. He sighs dreamily, his hands brushing over your bra-clad breasts. “So pretty. My girl.”

“It’s a beige t-shirt bra.”

“I don’t care. Still pretty,” he mutters, kissing down your neck and over your collarbones until he reaches your breasts.

He mouths over the pillowy flesh, one hand reaching to press into your right tit. He squeezes softly, experimentally, as he sucks a mark into the left side. You brush a hand through his hair, kissing his forehead.

He smiles against your skin, reaching under you to unclasp the bra. He fumbles a little, you suppose you can’t expect him to be perfect at everything. But he gets it. After a moment.

He whines softly in the back of his throat as he pulls the bra off of your body, mouth watering as he sees your breasts freed from the fabric. Your nipples pebble immediately from the cool air, and the arousal coursing through your body.

“Gosh, honey, you’re… geez,” he huffs, smiling again, though this time it’s a little more desperate.

He leans down, licking over one stiff nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into his touch, his hands drifting all over the bare skin, mouth paying special attention to each side. A graze of his teeth against one nipple has you gasping, body jerking against him.

“My baby…”

“Clark,” you moan softly. You try to pull the tank top off of his body. He leans up to help pull it off, though he jumps a little as your hands drift to the waistband of his pants. “Can I… please?”

“No,” he replies, voice soft and gentle.

You pout.

“Mm? Why not?”

“Wanna make it about you, baby,” he mutters, kissing down your sternum and stomach.

“Trust me, getting your cock in my mouth would please me.”

He groans, stilling with his lips just below your belly button. “Baby…”

“Please?”

He looks up at you through his lashes. “Later. Promise.”

You swallow, closing your eyes as he tugs on your pants. You could work with ‘later’. You let him strip you bare, eyes on his face as he drank you in, head to toe. The look on his face would be etched into your mind forever.

The first brush of his tongue against your sensitive slit was everything. You gasp, immediately reaching for any part of him you can hold onto as he holds your legs wide open, circling your clit with his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You squirm and writhe under his mouth, tempted to ask, but not really wanting to know, where on earth he learned to do that.

“Fuck, please. Right there,” you moan, torn between the overwhelming urge to let your eyes roll back and the need to see him settled between your legs. He just looks too pretty like this. “Right… r-right there. Yes.”

He smiles against you, his finger circling your hole before plunging in. He seems awfully self satisfied as you make a noise you were hardly sure even could come from your mouth. He slides another finger in with the first, crooking them just right as his mouth does the rest of the work.

“Baby… Clark… Please. Please. Don’t stop, I’m so… m’so close, baby.”

He hums softly, the vibration of his voice adding yet another sensation to your already-overwhelmed senses. It only takes a few more seconds of you babbling before you’re all but squealing, soaking his hand and his face as you cum hard.

“So good, honey. Attagirl,” he mutters, still softly kissing you as he slides his fingers out.

He wastes no time in pulling his pants off, his hefty, uncut cock springing free from its confines. And you thought you were impressed with his mouth.

“Shit.”

He grins. “You said yourself I was big.”

“Yeah, but I was more meaning your arms. You’re… fuck. You’re just big everywhere.”

He shrugs, definitely a little smug. “Not that big.”

You roll your eyes, working to try and get him on his back.

“What’re you doin’, baby?” He questions, eyes heavy and lidded as you move to straddle his hips.

“What’s it look like?”

He swallows, hands skimming up your thighs and settling on your hips. “Looks like I’m very lucky.”

“You think so, huh?”

You smile down at him, glad to see him just as flustered as you feel. Even more so once you grip his cock, hard and throbbing and just begging for attention. He groans, hips jerking upward.

“You like that, huh?”

“I like everything you do,” he breathes out, your name slipping past his lips in pleasure.

You stroke him slowly a few times, enjoying how much he seems to unravel. Maybe this is why he didn’t want you sucking him off yet, he may not have survived that and everything else all at once. You wouldn’t complain.

You shift your hips up, teasing the head of his cock against your soaking center. His fingers grip your hips harder, sure to leave little bruises you’d admire in the morning. You lock your eyes on his face as you take him in, his thick head breaching you with a little effort. You each let out some awfully pathetic noises in unison, your hands immediately bracing against his chest. You sink down slowly, enjoying the feel of him filling you past your limits and the look in his eyes that make you feel like he’d combust any second.

It takes a moment before you’re fully settled against his pelvis, and you pause to give yourself a moment to adjust.

“Biggest fucking cock I’ve ever taken.”

He moans, trying to laugh. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I agree.”

You chuckle breathlessly, beginning to experimentally move your hips. You grind against him first, getting used to the feeling of him in you. Then, after a bit, you raise up and sit back down. Hard.

He gasps, eyes rolling back. You repeat the movement, over and over, setting a pace you were certain you wouldn’t be able to keep up with for too long. But fuck if it didn’t feel like heaven.

He whimpers, eyes flitting between your face and your pussy gripping onto him like a vice. He becomes impatient very quickly, easily pushing you up and down at a quicker speed without breaking a sweat. You let him fuck you on his cock, pulling you on and off with ease. Your hands find purchase on his chest and stomach, and eventually behind you on his thighs. Clark liked that the best, the positioning jutting out your bouncing tits.

He sits up against the headboard, still helping you bounce on his dick, the squelching noises of your cunt suctioning him in and your moans the only sounds in the room. He leans in, sucking one perfect nipple into his mouth, face pressed into your chest as you moved on top of him.

Your hands tangled in his hair from this position, holding onto him like you were riding a bull.

He groaned, lips popping off your breast. “G-golly, angel, you’re… mm…”

“Y-yeah. Shit.”

“Hang on,” he breathed out, wrapping strong arms around your waist before flipping you onto your back.

The new angle he hit has you gasping for air, the tops of your thighs pressing against your chest as he bends you in half. He could also go in even harder and faster from here, groaning and whining himself as he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow.

“Good?” He looks down at you with parted lips and wide eyes.

“Fucking phenomenal. Don’t stop.”

He grins, smile bright despite his face fighting the contortion of pleasure. You hold onto his arms, his shoulders, his hair… anywhere you can get a grip as you draw closer and closer to your climax.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know…” he coos softly, kissing you gently. His hand slips down between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit to bring you closer to your edge. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“It’s okay. Let go, honey.”

You groan, falling over that edge with a cry of his name. Your wrecked pussy clenches around his length, pulsing with the shocks of the orgasm. And he doesn’t fucking stop.

“Geez, you smell even better now,” he whispers, breathing in your release and your skin.

You whine, wriggling under his big body, overstimulated in the best way. He finally stops rubbing at your sensitive clit, hands on your shoulders to move you against him with each thrust. He whimpers, closer and closer by the second.

“W-where d’ya want me, angel?”

“Anywhere. I dunno, don’t care.”

He groans, suddenly pulling out, jerking himself a couple of times before he finishes. His cum shoots out, hot ropes covering your breasts. It doesn’t end until you’re staring at him, slack jawed and wide eyed. You’d never seen someone cum so much.

He breathes heavy, shaking a little as he finally lets himself go. “Gosh.”

“Baby…” You look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Fat tears roll down your pretty face as desire and frustration bubble up in you.

“Clark,” you whine, begging. “Clark, please, just...just fuck me.”

“I will, I will,” he promises, while continuing to tease you.

You, a mewling, whining, squirming mess, try to press your hips against his to get him in you, but his huge hand falls on your hip and grips it tight, holding you still.

“I'll give you what you need, just be patient,” he says firmly.

Still, he keeps it up. Just the tiniest of rolls of his hips so the fat tip just barely starts sinking into you, before he pulls away.

He likes the way your cunt opens up to him when you think he'll finally push inside, and then the way you desperately clench around nothing as he pulls back.

“Clark!” you cry, pouting, cheeks soaked from your tears. “Please!”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” he says, but he keeps it up. He's just so obsessed with the way your slick dribbles out of you every time he pulls away, thin strings of your essence connecting the arousal on your hole to the one smeared on the tip of his cock.

He likes how desperate you are, how you start blubbering his name and begging, and how soaked you are by the time he finally gives you what you want.

He sinks into you slowly. He's been working you up for so long, that the feeling of him in you is enough for you to come.

He feels your gummy walls squeeze him tight the second he's all the way in. Your thighs shaking and his name leaving your lips in little squeals and gasps are obvious giveaways of your orgasm.

He laughs softly, his voice rough. “‘m sorry, sweet girl. Did I make you wait too long? I'm sorry. I just love seeing how desperate your pussy is for me.”

♡ please comment and reblog my work, it means so much to me and inspires me to keep writing

Clark Kent masterlist

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𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk <3

But now that you’re standing here among the lights, luxurious furniture, and the rack of lingerie with your sundress draped across your plump body, all of that easiness is gone and not even a glass of Moscato can fix it. 

Especially when you just found out a few minutes when you arrived here to the studio that Maki wouldn’t be taking the photos but her friend, who is a man you’ve never met before, would be. 

“Why not?” Maki whines disapprovingly. She is standing by one of the lights, trying to get it right so it illuminates your skin and brings out the soft glow of your makeup. She gave you time to do your hair and makeup when you got here since the walk from your home to the studio was a hot one. 

Even though your apartment is only five blocks away, the hot weather has a vengeance, and you showed up coated in sweat. You were so glad you took a shower and applied extra layers of anti-chaff deodorant to your inner thighs earlier before leaving your crib. 

Though you know look good with your pink glossed lips, glittery eyeshadow, and rose-scented perfume, neither does much to curb your anxiety. You fidget with the hem of your dress, unable to look Maki in the eye. “I’m just not comfortable with this guy takin’ photos of me,” you mutter. 

“Y/N, I told you,” Maki sighs, “Geto is a professional photographer. He’s taken many shots for my business before! Did you look at his portfolio? I sent it to you.” 

You timidly nod because you did. Though you have no clue what Geto looks like, you will admit that he has immense talent. While you sat on your laptop two weeks ago, you scrolled through his photos that ranged from nature for National Geographic Magazine to shots of the prettiest women for Maki’s lingerie line. The way he managed to capture each thing, whether an animal or a human, and bring out the best in them was incredible. 

But your anxiousness isn’t just the fact that he is a man that happens to be taking your photos today. It’s the fact that each woman Geto photographed for Maki’s line don’t look like you.

They’re much smaller with perfectly flat stomachs and hour-shaped figures; perky breasts and thighs that have not an inch of cellulite. 

You have stomach; triple D titties that you have to pay an arm and a leg for when it comes to bras; an ass and thighs dimpled with cellulite; pudge that makes your arms bigger than you’d like them to be.

Your size is the reason you tend to stay away from bikinis and crop tops in the summer; opting instead for sundresses that reach your ankles and jackets that hide your shape. 

Your shape is why you don't date as much, too afraid of rejection despite your pretty face and cute smile. 

You’re used to men ghosting you or standing you up after getting a look at you below your chin. It’s humiliating to be in your body and to be treated in such a way. 

What angers you most is that you take care of yourself–you eat your fruits and veggies; you drink water; you exercise–and yet you’re still criticized by society for the body you’re forced to live in. 

That’s why when Maki asked you to model for her new summer lingerie line, you were more than happy to participate, thinking it’d be a great way to boost your confidence. Plus, you get to keep the lingerie you like. But now, all you want to do is hide away from the blinding lights above, feeling too hot and exposed beneath them. 

Maki puts a hand on her slim hip, fixing you with a stare. “He’s not gonna hit on you if that’s what you’re worried about. Geto doesn’t really date since he’s always working. And we don’t have time for you to change your mind, girl! I need these photos in by next week!” She turns to her sister. “Mai, back me up here!” 

Mai, lounging on the couch for the shoot with her legs crossed, looks up from her book with a bored expression. “I’m not in this,” she deadpans before looking back down and flipping a page. 

Maki growls in frustration at her sister’s refusal to help before turning back to you. “Are you sure this is just about the fact that a guy, who is a professional photographer, by the way, is taking your photos today?” She cocks her head to the side, still giving you that fixed stare. 

You flush in your sundress. She knows exactly what’s going on and wants you to say it. “The girls he shoots for don’t…look like me,” you carefully confess. “I’m much bigger and I’m afraid that–“  

“Okay, stop.” Maki walks up to you and puts her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “First of all, shut up. You’re fucking beautiful, no matter what shape you are, and I specifically picked you because you know how to work a camera and I want this new line to be inclusive to all sizes.” You flush at her compliment. “Second of all, Geto is going to take these pictures regardless of your size because it’s a fucking job, Y/N! He doesn’t care how you look!” 

She pauses, reiterating, “Well, he does, but only in his photos. Your body is your body. Plus, he is fully aware that the model today is a plus-sized woman and he still said yes.” 

“What’s the big deal?” Mai asks, shocking the both of you. She is looking up from her book and at you from under her black bang. “It’s not the end of the world that you’re a big girl, Y/N. I’d hit if I were a guy.” 

“Mai, come on!” Maki scoffs, rolling her eyes. You giggle, smiling at the sisters. “Mai is right…you both are.” You squeeze Maki’s hands still on your shoulders and nod at the little table where a chilled bucket of Moscato and glasses sit. “Maybe I just need a glass.” 

Maki squeals excitedly, wrapping her arms around you to give you a hug. “Comin’ right up, girly!” She races over to the bottle to pour you a glass, but as she does, she becomes distracted by the sound of pounding footsteps. “Oh, and look who’s here! Right on time too, but then again, he’s always punctual.” She grins happily, giving you a wink. 

You look toward the studio’s staircase–the ones you had to walk up and nearly pull a muscle because the elevator is broken. There, you find a pair of big ass boots attached to an even bigger, taller man. 

You realize that you’ve never seen Geto’s photo before, so it takes you a moment to register that you’re looking at him in the flesh. To say he is hot is an understatement. He has to be about 6’0 with muscles that flex under his black tee soaked in sweat.

His jeans are tight on his thick, muscled legs and slim waist. His long, black hair is pulled into a high bun that accentuates the sharp lines of his face, especially his cheekbones and jaw. Dark ink cascades up and down his big biceps and arms, stopping at his hands where several rings adorn his fingers. 

Geto comes into the room, appearing like a giant with how big he is. He stands much taller than you, Maki, and Mai combined. He could probably break you in half.

“Please tell me you’ve got some water up here,” he huffs, lugging his backpack over his shoulders. His handsome, reddened face is glinting in sweat and are his thick neck and the collar to his tight tee. 

Maki points to the table at the back where drinks and snacks are set up. “Right on the table over there. Just put your stuff down over there, too.” 

Geto nods and walks farther into the room. As he does, his eyes meet yours from across the room, rendering you speechless and suddenly in need of air. His eyes remind you of two purple amethysts–beautiful yet almost hard to look at. His gaze is intense and fixed as if he sees every single part of you under your dress. 

The spell is fortunately broken when Geto moves to the snack table and turns his back to you, allowing you to get a look at his ass in them jeans. “Close your mouth, Y/N,” Mai snickers, suddenly beside you. “You’ll catch flies.” You flush in embarrassment, feeling like a perv. 

Once Geto finishes setting up his equipment, Maki brings him over to introduce you by his arm. “Geto, allow me to introduce the woman of the hour and my friend, Y/N.” She motions over your body, making you feel even more exposed. “Y/N, this is Geto Suguru. We call him ‘sugar’ for short.” 

Geto rolls his eyes. “You didn’t have to mention that.” His violet eyes meet yours, pinning you to your spot. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” And his voice! The deep timbre of it makes your pussy tremble. 

He sticks his hand out for yours. Tentatively, you take it, ignoring how big, calloused, and warm his hand is. “Y-You too,” you stammer. You give him a smile in an attempt to not seem awkward. “Um, I like your photos. You really have a way with your camera.” 

He doesn’t smile but you catch the corner of his lip twitching upward at your compliment. “So I’ve been told,” he replies, and you have to resist the urge to close your eyes at the sound of voice. You want to hear it all the time, in your ear. 

Realizing your hand is still in his, you release your hold and place your hands behind your back, feeling like the horniest perv alive. You catch Maki subtly smirking at Mai. “Mai, let’s give them time to get acquainted,” she giggles. “Help me organize the rest of the lingerie, will ya? Y/N, feel free to pick which one you wanna do first!” 

Before you can protest or beg for them to stay, they’re already walking away from the shooting area. Though they’re a few feet away, you feel like now it’s only you and Geto in the room. You stand there awkwardly for a few seconds, silent. The silence is thick with tension despite Maki and Mai whispering among themselves. 

“U-Um!” you loudly stammer, catching Geto’s attention. You walk over to the rack of lingerie near you and pick out a bright fuchsia bra and panty set. “Is this set okay to start with?” Geto’s eyes flick to the set before setting back on your face. “That’s fine with me. We do want you want.” 

“Cool!” you squeak, wincing at the volume of your voice. “I-I’m gonna go change now. I won’t be long.” Before Geto can say anything more, you take a glass of Moscato and hurry off to the bathroom to change with your set. Once you’re behind the four walls, you can finally breathe and settle yourself down. 

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” you huff to yourself in the mirror. 

But you know exactly what’s wrong: that fine ass piece of man. He makes your body react in a way it never has before with any man. Your breathing is labored and your heart hammers like you just ran a marathon. Your head feels dizzy. Your pussy is throbbing and possibly soaked from the scent of Geto’s cologne wafting in the air. 

You know realistically that you can't go back out like this if you don’t want to jump his bones. So after downing your glass and splashing some cool water on your neck, you change into your set along with some gold heels to make the color pop. After fixing your hair and applying a slick of gloss on your lips, you put on your silk robe and slowly walk back outside for the shoot. 

Geto is setting up the camera on a stand while Maki and Mai stand around, sipping their glasses. 

“I’m finished,” you timidly announce. “Is it okay?” All three heads turn to you and you feel hot with embarrassment under their gazes. “Is it okay?” Mai guffaws. “Girl, you look like you need to be wined, dined, and given six orgasms! Doesn’t she, sugar?” 

You have no idea why she asks Geto, but you’re even more confused at the intense stare he gives you. His eyes roam over your body, drinking in the way the bra cups hold in your plump breasts, your thick legs shining with coconut oil, and your jiggly stomach adorned in lace from the waistband of your thong. 

You don’t know if he likes what he sees, but it makes you feel uncomfortable either way. The way he makes you feel makes you uncomfortable. You have to squeeze your thighs together in an effort to lessen the throbbing you feel between them. 

Geto clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “I’m gonna go set up my laptop,” he mutters before storming off to his backpack. Maki turns to you with a knowing smirk. “He agrees.” 

“Stop it,” you groan, closing your robe to shield your body. “You’re gonna embarrass him and me. It’s not easy for me to be in this weird-ass position.” 

Maki rolls her eyes behind her spectacles. “Oh, come on! He knows he likes what he sees. Did you notice the “fuck me” eyes he gave you when he saw you in that little sundress?” 

You think back to Geto’s intense stare your way as he walked into the room and shiver. “I think you’re just tipsy, Maki.” Maki gapes at you, offended. “I am not!” she scoffs. “I only had two glasses!” Mai bumps her hip with her sister’s, giggling. “You know damn well you can’t handle your alcohol, sis.” 

Before Maki can jump down her throat though, Geto comes back with his laptop and a jump drive. “I’m all set up now,” he announces. Maki squeals loudly, nearly taking your eardrum out. “Great!” she cheers. “I’ll set up the music and let you guys do your thing. We’ll be right over here making sure everything goes well.” 

After a few minutes, the shoot is under way while the sisters stand off to the side, watching. Your playlist specifically made for this photoshoot is playing and you have another glass of Moscato in your hand.

You can already feel the first glass affecting you, making you feel lighter. Geto stands behind the camera, fiddling with the buttons. “Let’s start with you standing with the backdrop.” He tilts his chin towards the blush pink backdrop. 

You nod and slowly walk over in your heels, feeling like Geto might be watching your ass despite the silk robe covering it. You don’t turn around to look at him when you finally, though hesitantly, disrobe and reveal every part of yourself to him and the camera.

When you turn around, he is already staring at you, a small smile on his lips. “Why you look so tense?” he chuckles. “You nervous?” 

You huff with a shy laugh, your body feeling hot and shaky. “Does it show?” 

“A little, yeah. Just relax and feel free to drink your glass…actually, keep it in your hand with some of the photos. It adds to the aesthetic.” You nod and keep your glass as you strike your first pose, one hand on your hip and your eyes set dead at the camera. 

The camera light flashes, nearly blinding you. Geto hums approvingly. “Perfect,” he says, his deep voice caressing you. “Stay right there…tilt your chin up a bit.” He bends down once more to snap a picture as you do as he orders, mustering the sexiest expression you can possibly do. 

It starts to become easier and less awkward the longer you stand there, posing from the front. After a few pictures, Geto peers up at you from the camera. “Turn around for me,” he huskily orders. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your pussy excitingly clenches at him giving you orders. Slowly, you turn around, exposing your ass in the cheeky thong that makes it look extra plump and juicy. 

“Look at me over your shoulder,” Geto orders. You do so, peering at him over your shoulder, and he snaps a picture. “Perfect,” he chuckles, a gorgeous, white-toothed smile adorning his pink lips. “You’re a natural at this. You sure this is your first time?” 

“Thanks,” you giggle, flushing at the compliment, “and yes. I’m just a volunteer since Maki’s original model got sick.” You put your glass down and pose without it, putting your arms behind your head. Geto snaps a pic. “Is that all to why you decided to do this?” he curiously asks. "To help out your friend?” 

You shake your head, smiling into the camera tense. “Guess it’d be fun. Plus, I thought it might boost up my confidence since–“  

“Shit!” Maki shouts, groaning in frustration at the end. 

Geto immediately stops his work, alerted. “What is it?” he demands, already storming over to them. Maki sighs, irritation all over her face. “I totally forgot we had a meeting scheduled with the Macy’s team today for a partnership. I have to go.” 

“And I have to drive her since her car is still in the shop,” Mai says as Maki begins to rush to gather her things. Mai turns to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Y/N.” You look at the sisters, realization hitting you like a train. “So…you’re both leaving?” you anxiously ask. “Will you be back before the shoot ends?” 

Maki checks her watch as she shoves her tote bag onto her shoulder. “We’ll see, but most of the time, those partnership meetings last forever. But don’t worry; we’ll call to make sure everything goes smoothly and you have plenty of drinks and snacks.” She walks over to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

She leaves a ring of gloss on your cheek and anxiety twirling in your gut at her departure. “But–“ 

“We’ve gotta run,” she quickly says before you can protest. “Love you, see you later, bye!” She hurries over to the door with Mai in tow, giving Geto a wink as she does. “Thanks again, Geto! Expect your deposit by next week.” 

And then, just like that, they’re gone. And only you and Geto are occupying the room. 

“I guess it’s just us then,” he awkwardly announces, walking back over to his camera. 

You slowly nod, adverting your eyes from his to stare at the door. “Yeah…” You desperately want the sisters to come waltzing back in and announce that the meeting was cancelled, but you know that is but a fantasy. You’re forced to stand there in this damn silence with this hot ass man, semi-naked. Could things get any worse? 

As if sensing your discomfort, Geto clears his throat, gaining your attention. He stands by the camera stand, his tatted arms crossed over his broad, hard chest. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can tell you’re uncomfortable and I would be too if I was in your position.” 

He nods at your body, making your body flush with heat. “I get it: strange guy with a camera; you’re semi-naked. It’s like the plot to a horror movie.” 

You crack a smile at his dark humor, giggling softly. “Well, when you say it like that…” You fiddle with the lace on your thong’s waistband. Geto continues to stare at you, making you feel like he has X-ray vision. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m scared,” you softly explain. "It’s just–“ 

“Don’t explain yourself to me,” he interacts, sounding firm. “Today is about you more than it is about me. I want these photos to please you too, so I want you feelin’ comfortable more than anything. If you say no, I’ll take care of Maki, maybe tell her somethin’ came up.” 

You blink at him, taken aback by his words. “You’d do that for me?” you ask in disbelief.

“‘Course. I’m not an asshole, and plus, you’re her friend. I’d rather her be pissed at me than you.” He shrugs as if it is no big deal, and maybe it’s not, but to you it gives you a sense of how sweet and considerate he is. If only there was someone like that for you. 

You shake your head determinately, picking up your wine glass. “No, let’s do it. I’m here, you’re here, and we both want a check.” You take a long sip of your wine, letting the alcohol loosen you up further. “I’m ready,” you announce with a bright smile at the camera. “Let’s take some photos.” 

Geto looks surprised at your cooperation at first, but then smiles. “I like the attitude,” he chuckles. “And the smile. Keep that there for a few pics.” 

He bends down to snap a few as a light, feathery feeling overtakes your body and your confidence shoots to the roof. “Sure,” you giggle, already feeling the affects of the wine hit you…or maybe that’s just the smell and closeness of Geto. 

An hour goes by of photos you take in different lingerie by the backdrop. The lingerie you pick is bright in color, making your skin complexion pop, and makes you feel like the sexiest woman in the world. Geto’s looks shot your way also help. His gaze is so bold and intense behind the camera, though you’re sure it’s because he’s a photographer and is analyzing how he can get you to pose or something. The rest of the photoshoot is a piece of make and less awkward than earlier. You dance a little to the music from your playlist and giggle, oblivious to the adoring gazes Geto shoots your way behind the camera lens. 

When Beyoncé’s “Cuff It” begins to play, you are on your third glass of Moscato and Geto is on his first. After getting your photos taken in an aqua-blue lingerie set, he takes his camera off the stand. “We’re finished?” you ask curiously. 

“Just the first half with the backdrop,” he replies, nudging his head over to his laptop. “Lemme show you what I’ve got so far.” You unstrap your heels and follow him barefoot over to his laptop. He sits down in the wheeled chair and gets to hooking his camera up. In an instant, dozens of your headshots and photos fill his screen, each one different than the last. 

But neither one makes you feel any different than how you do staring at them: Sexy. Confident. Like the baddest bitch on the block. The lighting is perfect on your makeup and skin, and each color of your lingerie seems to pop. “Wow, Suguru!” you happily gasp. “These look amazing! You made me look so…so…beautiful.” 

Geto chuckles as he scrolls through each photo. “Well, I didn’t make you look beautiful, but the camera enhancements definitely help. Maki will love these, I’m sure.” 

“Of course, she will!” you giggle. “Photography is definitely you’re calling. Why’d you decide to make that your career anyway?” 

He shrugs, still lazily scrolling through your photos. “Photography is art,” he explains, “and I’ve always loved art. To me, there’s more to taking a photo than just snapping a camera. There are so many aspects and techniques that go into making one picture perfect, such as capturing beauty. You need to learn how to preserve it…worship it…” 

He pauses, his hand on the touch pad, and slowly turns his head to meet yours. “Care for it,” he murmurs. 

Your breath catches in your throat suddenly, realizing how close he is. You’re overwhelmed with his cologne and the smell of his shampoo–something spicy, like cinnamon, and clean, like rain. His violet eyes trail down to your lips, just for a second, before moving back to capture yours in an intense, heated stare that makes you want to strip off your lingerie and let him touch every single part of you. 

‘Girl, what the hell?’ you think, shocked at your naughty thoughts. It must be the wine. You clear your throat and take a step back away from Geto. “Um…we should get back to takin’ photos,” you softly mutter. “You know…so Maki won’t kill us. I’ll go change into the next set.” 

You quickly head toward the rack of lingerie and choose a random one before hurrying to the bathroom, abruptly ending whatever was about to transpire. ‘Which was nothing,’ you firmly think. ‘Geto is your photographer. A professional. And even if something were to happen, it’d be a mess.’ You keep trying to reason with your horny side as you change into the next set. 

When you come back out in a lime green teddy bodysuit with a push-up bra and thong, Geto is standing by the lion-claw couch with his camera. “Let’s take some with you on the couch, then we’ll do some on the bed and then on the balcony. Just sit down with your legs crossed for now.” 

You nod and take a seat on the soft couch cushions with your thick legs crossed over each other. You plant your hands on your knee and make a lustful, sensual face at the camera. “Perfect,” he compliments as the camera shutter flashes for a couple pics. “Now lie on your side with your hand on your hip. Use your other hand to prop up your head.” 

You slowly get into position, staring at the camera eye. “You want me to make love to the camera?” you giggle. 

Geto chortles, the sound of his deep laugher making your clit jump. “You’ve been doin’ that since you got in front of the camera,” he replies, but you don't think he’s joking about that. He takes a few shots of you in his desired position before moving on. “Now take your hand and hook it over the couch.” 

You do so, still staring at the camera and hoping you look just as good as you did in the first set. The song has changed to Beyoncé’s “Virgo’s Groove”–a song that somehow makes you believe that you’re the sexiest version of yourself right now. 

As you pose, you become aware that the atmosphere has changed to something more tense. Geto must realize it too because he suddenly rises from behind his camera and stares you down. “You’re so damn fine,” he suddenly says. 

You scowl at him, confused. “I…what?” you dumbly ask. 

“I said you’re fuckin’ fine,” he repeats without a single beat. “Why you needed a lingerie shoot to make you feel more confident with a face and body like yours is beyond me. I’m just glad I get to see you like this.” 

Your heart thumps wildly as you continue to pose, not sure if you should stop. Geto snaps a photo regardless, acting as if he didn’t just say something so bold and flirty five seconds before. “You shouldn't say that,” you weakly say. 

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Why shouldn’t I?” he teasingly asks. “Can I not admire a very sexy woman like yourself?” 

He snaps another photo, the flash of the camera catching you off guard. “You can't tell me you didn’t notice me checkin’ you out when I came in here. If you’d let me, I’ll take photos of you in that little sundress of yours too.” His gaze is way more heated than before, the flirty smirk on his face making you feel even more uncomfortable as you lounge on the couch. 

But not uncomfortable in the way where you want to be away from him. On the contrary, in fact. You want to be closer than close to him, no clothes in between. The tension you’re feeling in the air and the clenching of your pussy are starting to get to you, driving you crazy. 

Geto’s words are to blame for that. Though flirty, can tell he is deadass. He sounds so sure; so real. No jokes or nothing. He isn’t a profile on a dating app or a hookup who is only seeing you in the darkness. You’re in front of him–all of you–and he still is looking at you like he wants a piece. 

He takes your silence for something different and stops snapping photos for a moment. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he worriedly asks. You sit up from your position, planting your ass on the couch. “No,” you softly answer with a slow head shake. “I’m just not used to getting compliments like that. Especially from someone like you.” 

“Someone like me?” he parrots, raising an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, knowing he wants you to elaborate and embarrass yourself. “You know you’re fine,” you sigh, “and men as fine as you don’t really see me as anything but…well, fat. If they don’t look at me as a hookup, they barely look at me at all.” 

Once the truth is out there, you feel stupid and small. Why did you tell him that? He could never understand or care. Maybe those three glasses were a bad idea. Geto only stares at you, silent and making you feel uneasy. Suddenly, he comes around the camera and strides up to you, making your heart pound with every step. When he suddenly sits beside you, the couch dips slightly from his weight. 

“What are you doing?” you softly ask, barely above a whisper. 

Slowly, he takes his hand and lays it on yours which is placed on your thigh. You shiver as if his hand is touching your naked skin. “I forgot to tell you the other reason why I decided to become a photographer,” he softly mutters, his voice like a rumbling earthquake to you. “To capture pretty little things like you.” His fingers on his other hand trail up and down your leg, as soft as a butterfly’s wings. “To make them feel beautiful with the work I do.” 

Your breathing is labored, your chest rapidly heaving up and down. “I-I’m not little,” you softly stutter. Geto chuckles, believing different. “You sure as hell are, even from where I’m sitting.” And he’s right–the man is still towers over you despite sitting down. 

You barely crack a smile. “I mean, I’m not…little like the girls you’re used to photographing.” You squeeze at your thigh fat, frowning. "I have arm and thigh fat, and cellulite, and–“ 

“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” Geto growls, holding your hand tighter. He scoots closer to you, completely in your grill…but you don’t move away. “And I’m not leavin’ here today until I make you see that. So can I kiss you?” 

You gape at him, shocked at his brazened question and attitude. He stares at you, patiently waiting for an answer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips that look so soft and pink. You wonder what they feel like…or taste like… 

You barely hear yourself whisper out “yes”, but Geto does. You barely have time to take a breath because he is leaning in and pressing your lips to his. It starts off innocent and careful, his soft lips slowly moving against yours. But once he finds that rhythm, the kiss becomes sensual; heated; panty-dropping. 

Geto is a fantastic kisser. Probably the best you’ve had. His lips are pillowy soft and his tongue tastes of mint gum and Moscato as he swirls it with yours. You don’t remember moving closer to him or wrapping your arms around his neck, but there you are, on the couch, making out with your photographer. 

At some point, he grasps your hips with his big hands and coaxes you into his lap despite your squeak of protest. You’re worried you might hurt him but from the way his hands are gliding along your ass, you guess he doesn't give a fuck. 

“We don’t have to go any farther than you want to,” he murmurs between heated kisses and moving lips. “I wanna make you feel good, but I don’t have to do that in any way you’re uncomfortable with.” Though you hear his words, you can feel the hardened bulge that has begun to grow in his jeans that you nudge against, rubbing against your clit. 

 You don’t know if it’s the wine, the music, or him, but something inside of you suddenly switches on, transforming you into the sexy version of yourself that are in Geto’s photos. You want to put the lingerie you’re wearing to good use and you know Geto is the perfect person to help you with that. 

“You could start by takin’ more photos of me,” you purr, peering down at him. “And I can take these off.” You take his hands and glide them down your sides, making him feel the sheer bodysuit. 

Geto’s eyes are hooded and dark as he gazes up at you, ready to do whatever you want. Then a mischievous smirk curls onto his lips. “Actually, I have a much better idea.” 

He slowly takes you off of his lap and hurries over to the camera, pressing a few buttons. “I’m gonna set the camera up right here on auto. It’ll go off every thirty seconds, so every time you make a move to strip, it’ll take a pic.” 

He slowly strides back over to you, making you tremble with every slow, teasing step he takes. “That means I’ve got my hands free to touch every part of you,” he hums, a slow smile stretching across his lips. As if backing him up, the camera shutter goes off, flicking a photo of you sitting there and gaping at him. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Well?” he asks. “Get to strippin’.” 

With trembling hands, you slowly begin to take down the straps to your bra, exposing your naked shoulders to him. Then you reach behind to unhook the bra but can’t reach no matter how much you wriggle around. Geto peers down at you, smiling humorously. “Need help, mama?” he chuckles. You nod sheepishly, flushing hot at the pet name curled around his deep voice. 

He gets on his knees in front of you, coaxing your thighs apart, and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. Once it’s loose, your tits come falling out of the cups like dripping fruit, your brown nipples erect. Geto almost looks pained at the sight of them. “God, look at these tits,” he groans. “You’re just as perfect as I thought you’d be.” 

He leans in and plants his face into your breasts, nuzzling his face in them. You squeak as he does so, frazzled by his action as he motorboats you. He must like titties. After getting his fill of your breasts in his face, he latches his lips onto one of your hard nipples and suckles on the sensitive peak. With his other hand, he toys with your other breast, gently folding and jiggling it, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

You whimper and moan at each of his ministrations, losing yourself in his touch. He is careful to not hurt you, but he isn’t being soft either. He is handsy and hungered like a starved man, switching between your breasts to give each nipple their own treatment until your tits are coated in his saliva. “Suguru,” you softly moan. 

“Hm?” he hums, still swirling his tongue around one of your areolas. You arch your back into his mouth, your hips grinding against the couch cushion for some relief. “P-Please…touch me.” 

He peers up at you from your tits. “Touch you where?” he teasingly asks. You whimper shyly, still squirming about. “Don’t be shy now, baby girl. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

The heated look in his eyes and the need you feel encourage you to leave that shy shit on the shelf. “Touch me here,” you whisper heatedly. You move your hand between your legs, pressing your fingers against the tiny cotton panty line pressing against your throbbing cunt. “Touch my pussy. And please, get those clothes off.” 

Geto smirks wolfishly at your dirty words. “I can definitely do that.” 

He gives your lips a heated, chaste kiss before he stands before you. The song bumping from the Alexa has now switched to Kehlani’s “Can I”–a tune that is fitting for what’s taking place before you. 

Geto keeps his eyes set on you as he begins to strip, starting with his boots and socks then starting on his shirt, pants, and boxers. He peels each article of clothing off, flinging them across the floor, forgotten. 

Once he is completely naked in front of you, you’re able to indulge in all of him. His body looks as if it was carved from stone itself–each muscle ripples along his body like hard granite stone, not too overwhelming but definitely making you feel like he could break you like a toothpick with how small you are. 

He truly is a big man, with big hands, big feet, and an even bigger dick. He has to be about eight inches–thick, long, veiny, and dripping with pre-cum all for you. You can’t take your eyes off of it despite the rest of his body being delicious. 

“Like what you see, baby girl?” he hums, teasingly swinging his hips a bit. It causes his dick, thick and long, to swing like a pendulum between his thick, tree trunk-like thighs. 

You nod, moving to get your hands on him, but he takes your wrists firmly in his hands. “Uh-uh,” he tuts. “Not yet. You told me to touch you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” 

Without a warning, his hands move under your ass and hoists you up onto his waist. “Oh!” you giggle, surprised and extremely aroused at his strength. He plops you down onto the couch so you’re now lying on your back. He props himself up on his knees between your thighs, peering down at you. “As pretty as this lingerie, I need it off of you.” 

Helping you sit up, he gets the rest of the lingerie off of you and pulls it down your ankles that are still strapped in your heels. Once it’s off, you’re completely nude, just in your jewelry and gold heels. The fact makes you shy and want to hide away but Geto’s lustful expression stops you. His big hands slide up your legs and slowly pry your thighs apart, revealing your aching, glistening, wet cunt to him. 

“Fuck, you’re wet!” he chuckles, looking up at you between the V of your thighs. “All of this for me, baby? You barely know me.” 

And that’s true. You only know as much as his website and Maki have told you. But you find yourself not giving a shit. “Maybe we can get to that later?” you breathlessly suggest. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you over dinner.” 

Your suggestion registers across Geto’s face and his gaze darkens to something way more sensual than before that he knows that this isn’t a hookup. “I know a damn good pizza place near here, if you’re up for it. But lemme make you cum first.” Without another word, he tosses your legs aside and dives into your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit and gently sucking on your lips. 

Yes, Geto is a great kisser, but he’s even better at eating pussy, you realize. His mouth alternates between using his lips to suckle gently on your pussy lips and clit to using his tongue to slowly flick the inside of your tight pussy walls. He takes his time, his movements deliberate and methodical, taking each moment to draw a moan or a whimper out of you. 

You’re losing it. You toss your head back against the pillow and grip the couch, your fingers digging into the couch cushions. “Fuck, sugar!” you shout to the ceiling, the nickname flying out of your mouth. How the fuck is he this good with his mouth? 

Geto looks up at you, his eyes shining from between the V of your inner thighs. “Call me that again,” he growls before spitting a copious amount of spit onto your pussy and slurping it back up, the lewd, wet sounds driving you farther to insanity. You grip his shoulders as he keeps his hands firmly placed on your inner thighs, pinning them up so your heeled feet are perched high on his head. 

“God, sugar!” you whine. “Please keep doing that! You’re so…so…” 

All words and thoughts leave you, the pleasure leaving you dumb. You want to control yourself, but it’s especially hard when he swirls his tongue around your clit and dips into your little wet hole to pay attention to you there. He slurps up every ounce of you, not leaving a single drop to waste. 

You hope he’ll be able to handle it when you cum because you can already feel it rising. That chord in your core is about to snap with how soft his lips are and the way his nose constantly keeps nudging against your sensitive little button. “Geto,” you moan in a warning. “I-I’m gonna–” 

“I can feel it,” he groans into your pussy, still lapping away. “Cum on my face, mama. I wanna taste all of you.” He grips your thighs and moves his jaw faster, coaxing you further toward that edge, his tongue flicking mercilessly against your clit. “Cum for me,” he demands. “Don’t fuckin’ hold back.” 

But you can’t. Not yet. “Wait!” you practically shot. He sits up, alarmed and his mouth coated in your juices. “I-I wanna cum with you,” you softly say. “I wanna feel you in my mouth…in my throat…” You move to fondle his cock, earning a lustful groan from deep in his throat. “Please, Sugu,” you whimper. “I need you.” 

Geto raises an eyebrow at you. “You wanna 69?” he asks, shocked. “You’d have to sit on my face for that. Is that okay with you? ‘Cause I’m close to cumming just by the thought of this ass in my face.” He reaches down to give your ass a smack, making you jump slightly. 

Though you’ve never 69-ned with anyone before, you know that you want to feel Geto’s dick down your throat now and nothing can curb that hunger until you do. So you nod, determined to not let your insecurities about you weight get to you. 

Without another warning, Geto lies flat on his back and pats his lap for you to climb up into. With a soft giggle, you twist around so your ass is facing him and you’re looking down at his hard cock waving in your face. 

You feel Geto’s arms instantly wrap around your waist, forcing you to plant your ass back onto his face. You squeak, instinctively tensing. “Shh, it’s okay,” he coos, gently stroking your backside. “I can take you easy if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you to feel good.” 

His dick begins to bob up and down in front of you which you realize he’s doing on his own. Fuck, this man is dangerous. “Relax, mama,” he soothingly says. “I’ve got you. Just take what you need.” 

And so you do. With a fire igniting inside of you at the sight of his veiny, thick cock in front of your very eyes, you wrap a hand around the base of his dick, biting your lip at the fact that you can barely fit it all in your hand. 

You start by spitting a copious amount of spit onto his cock and stroke it up and down his shaft, making him shine with your saliva. Geto groans softly at the feeling of your tiny, soft hand wrapped around him from underneath you and begins to gently play with your pussy, gliding his finger up and down your twitching lips and clit. 

After lubing him up with your spit, you lean in and press small kisses along the head of his dick, throwing some kitten licks in the mix. He loves that. His toes curl and his hands clench at his sides as more porn-worthy sounds drift from between his lips. 

After gaining enough courage, you finally open your mouth wide to accommodate to his size and take him into your mouth. “Fuck!” he grunts as soon as your lips and tongue make contact with his dick.

You begin to bob your head up and down along his dick, sliding him in and out of your mouth. You stroke in time with what you can’t gobble down, making sure to keep a secure grip along his slick, wet cock. 

He tastes good. He smells good. He feels good. He sounds good. All of your senses are completely taken over by him as you suck and gag on his dick, hollowing your cheeks and opening your throat to take him deeper.

“Such a good girl,” he groans, one hand curling in your hair. “Takin’ that dick so deep in your pretty mouth like that. I bet a girl like you has been needin’ this, hm?”  

His lewd words encourage you to take him deeper, so much that you start gagging because of how thick he is. He practically fills your throat, making you nearly choke on it. Your eyes begin to well with tears, possibly fucking up your mascara. 

But you never give up or stop. You’ll be damned if the first blowjob you give him is the worst one he’s had. You take things slow, allowing yourself time to get used to his size as you slide your head up and down, up and down, along his dick. His moans get louder, his grip tighter on your waist as you gag on his dick like it’s no one’s business. Saliva drips from your mouth down his heavy balls, and you find yourself wanting to suck on those too. 

“Fuck, baby!” Geto growls, his hand coming down to spank your ass. The sharp sound of his hand recoiling against your plump ass makes you moan around his dick.

“You deserve the same treatment,” he huffs, his hot breath caressing your twitching pussy. You suddenly feel his tongue begin to swirl around your clit, alternating between that and softly sucking on the sensitive, little bud. 

“Sugu,” you whimper, your words muffled around his cock. Drool pools from your mouth and down his shaft, dripping all the way down his balls and onto the couch below. You continue to bob your head up and down his shaft, adding your own sloppy, wet sounds to his as he plays with your pussy with his tongue like it’s his own personal playground. 

His big hands grab and massage your ass, spanking it here and there. Every time his hand comes down to smack one of your ass cheeks, your pussy clenches in his mouth. It’s just too much! 

Click! 

Your eyes shift to the left, finding the camera still on auto and taking pictures. You realize that it’s been on auto this entire time. You almost forgot that Geto set it up that way before he helped you strip off your clothes. How many pictures of you are there? And how many of them are with Geto? 

The idea of the camera taking such risqué pictures of you turns you on, especially if the photos are of you and him in this position–you sitting perfectly on his face with his long dick in your throat while your pussy is in his mouth, your thighs spread wide for him. How would Maki react if she saw such photos by accident? How would she and Mai look if they were to enter the studio right now and find you spread out like a dessert plate for your photographer? 

The naughty ideas make you gush much to Geto’s enjoyment. He hums into your pussy, causing your clit to quiver with pleasure. “Feelin’ good, baby?” he coos into your pussy. “Think you can cum for me just like this?” 

“I…” You can’t even utter one coherent word as he widens his mouth and takes your whole pussy into it, his tongue swirling around your little hole. You quiet your desperate moans by gobbling down his dick once more, stroking your hand in time with the bob of your head. You’re so glad the music is still blasting because neither one of you are quiet. Moans and sloppy sounds of your activity swim around you, filling the air. 

Your jaw begins to ache and your eyes water the more you take Geto into your throat. However, when you begin to feel him swell in your mouth, stretching it out further, you know that you can't give up. Not until you make him cum. So you go faster, gluck-glucking all around his cock like your life depends on it. At the same time, you can feel your clit begin to swell and you start to grind your hips down into his face like he’s your personal surfboard. 

Geto chuckles from underneath you, holding your hips down against his face. “You gonna cum for me, mama?” he mumbles into your pussy. One of his hands move to your ass to press against your entrance, barely entering but still giving you all the pleasure you need. “Mmm-hmm!” you squeal around his cock. “M’so…so close!” 

You can feel that cord in your core about to snap again, the feeling rising every time Geto repeats his actions. You can tell he’s close to by how his hips begin to bump against your mouth, making you take his cock further down your throat. “Me too,” he grunts. “Keep goin’ and I’ll cum for you too, baby girl. Is that what you want?” 

His thick finger suddenly slides easily into your slick, wet pussy, practically making you scream. You pop off of his dick, gasping at the feeling. “Yes!” You sob in ecstasy. “Please, sugar! Please give me your cum! I wanna cum with you too!” 

That is all Geto needs to hear. Like a madman, he clamps you farther down onto his face so you can’t move, flicks his tongue along your sensitive clit, and strokes your walls a little faster, coaxing you to burst all over his face. “Cum for me, mama,” he growls into your cunt. “Cum all over my face, Y/N.” 

And as you bob along his cock, you finally do. The strength in his hands pinning your thighs open and his wondrous mouth push you over the edge. You begin to grind your hips into his mouth, chasing that orgasm like a high. 

Finally, with a mewl-like moan and your eyes screwed tight, you burst all over Geto’s mouth and the couch cushion beneath you. Your orgasm crashes into your body, making it shiver and shudder with aftershocks as Geto continues to softly lap at your pussy. 

After a few moments of continuous work, Geto finally follows you down that hill into the sea of bliss. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” he groans, and you suddenly feel him burst all in your mouth. His cum shoots out onto your tongue, immediate and creamy. It surprises you so much that you react your mouth a bit, causing his cum to spurt all over your lips and face, ruining your makeup. 

Geto groans appreciatively at your mouth and taste, eating you up like an hungered animal. Your mind is hazy and your body feels as light as a feather as you begin to come down from your high as you begin to lap up his cum, cleaning his cock for him. It is by far the best orgasm you’ve had. 

Finally, once he’s sure you’re cleaned up and way too sensitive for more, Geto removes himself from between your thighs. With his help, you slowly move off of him though your legs feel like jelly. “Easy now,” he coos, helping you sit down on the couch cushion. He sits up from his spot, his chin and mouth shiny with your cum and his saliva. 

“Mmm,” he hums, licking his plump, pink lips free of your juices. “Definitely better than Moscato.”  

You breathlessly giggle, licking his cum from your lips. “You too,” you purr, earning a chaste kiss against your lips. “I may need a towel though.” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry, baby. You just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself. Stay right here.” He gets up from the couch and walks to the bathroom, his tight, firm ass a sight indeed. 

After a few minutes of lounging on the couch, exhausted but satisfied, he finally comes back with a warm, wet towel and helps you dab off his cum, careful not to ruin your makeup.

After you’re all clean, he wraps his muscular arms around you and slides you into his lap for closer access. “That was amazing,” you sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He hums in agreement. “It definitely was.” He moves his hand to your forehead, wiping away a stray piece of hair from your sweaty forehead.

“Now do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? I bet you would from those naughty lil’ photos now.” He presses his lips to your neck, making you whimper as he kisses the sensitive parts of your skin. 

“We still have to finish the photoshoot,” you softly moan as his hands move to caress your breasts. “Maki will be mad if we don’t.”

He groans in protest, but moves away from you anyway. “Maybe after some pizza?” he suggests, smirking at you. “I made a promise to you, didn’t I?” 

Realizing he was serious from the start, you can do nothing but giggle and press a kiss to his lips, feeling giddy at this new, blossoming feeling of something real starting. 

When Geto pulls away from the kiss, his eyes trail down to your body. “Damn; I really made a mess,” he chuckles.

You look down, finding your tits and stomach to be coated in his cum too. You reach for the towel but he grabs it first and holds it out of reach. “Geto, I need to get clean!” you whine. 

“Not just yet, mama.” He smacks your ass before coaxing you off of him and moves behind the camera. You sit there confused and exposed, his cum dripping down your body, makeup and hair a fucked-out mess, and your pussy glinting in your cum and his spit. 

He grins at you, his teeth glistening white. “Stay like that,” he orders before bending down behind the camera. 

“Smile for the camera, baby,” he chuckles. Before you can protest, the shutter flickers.