The boys pile into the apartment anyway, Garrett and Tucker carrying takeout bags while Hannah follows behind them.
The second Logan spots Dean sprawled on your couch in his old hoodie, he points aggressively. “See? This is exactly what I meant.”
“Shut up,” both you and Dean say simultaneously.
Hannah snorts.
Garrett looks relieved more than anything. “You good?”
Dean shrugs which is Dean language for not remotely good but alive.
Logan drops onto the armchair nearby. “For the record, you were terrifying tonight.”
Dean flips him off lazily without opening his eyes and suddenly your irritation comes roaring back.
You straighten immediately. “Actually, no.”
Every head turns toward you.
Logan blinks. “Uh oh.”
“No, because why the hell was Hunter even there?” you demand. “Dean has been telling you guys for months that Davenport’s an asshole.”
Logan lifts both hands defensively. “Okay, hold on-”
“No, I’m serious!” You stand now fully worked up again. “You all acted like Dean was being dramatic when he literally told you!”
Garrett winces slightly.
Tucker suddenly finds the floor very interesting.
“Y/N,” Dean says cautiously.
“You don’t get to ‘Y/N’ me right now.” You point toward Logan. “And you! You practically rolled your eyes every time Dean brought it up.”
“Because Dean hates everybody,” Logan argues weakly.
“Not like that he doesn’t!”
Dean stares at you.
Completely stunned now.
Because you’re angry for him.
Not at him.
For him.
“And then tonight everybody acts shocked when Dean loses it?” you continue. “Maybe listen to him once in a while instead of acting like he’s just some irrational frat boy with anger issues.”
“Hey,” Dean says quietly, almost touched.
You whirl toward Garrett now too. “And you! Captain Obvious over there. You knew how bad tonight could’ve gone.”
Garrett actually looks alarmed. “Why am I getting dragged into this?”
“Because none of you stopped him!”
Dean is visibly trying not to smile now.
Which only annoys you more.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little,” he admits.
You glare at him. “You almost got yourself suspended!”
“Yeah, but now you’re yelling at people for me.” His expression goes soft in a way that immediately weakens your knees. “Which is kinda hot.”
“Dean!”
You make the mistake of trying to march toward Logan again.
Dean leaps off the couch and catches you easily around the waist before you get more than two steps.
“Alright,” he laughs, hauling you backward against his chest, “that’s enough, killer.”
“Dean, let me go.”
“Nope.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
His arms tighten securely around your middle while you squirm halfheartedly.
It’s not effective.
Mostly because you’re trying not to laugh now too.
“Your friends are idiots,” you mutter.
“Absolutely.”
“And nobody listens to you enough.”
“Correct again.”
Logan points dramatically from the chair. “I’m being attacked.”
Dean ignores him completely.
Because he’s too busy looking at you.
Still standing up for him without hesitation even when he absolutely did not deserve this level of loyalty tonight.
Something warm cracks open in his chest.
“Thanks,” he says quietly near your ear.
You still immediately soften at the sound of his real voice.
Not joking.
Not flirting.
Just Dean.
You sigh, leaning back against him slightly. “You make it very difficult not to care about you.”
Dean’s hold tightens just a little.
And from the couch Tucker mutters under his breath:
summary: dean has his sights set on punching hunter in the face, you, his ex girlfriend won’t let him.
—
Malone’s was loud.
Music thumping through the walls, people packed shoulder to shoulder around the bar, hockey boys shouting over pool games in the back.
You were half listening to Logan tell some ridiculous story while Hannah laughed beside you when you felt it.
That shift in the room that only came when Dean was about to do something catastrophically stupid.
You looked over immediately.
And there he was.
Standing near the bar gone completely still, drink hanging loose in his hand while his eyes locked across the room.
Hunter Davenport.
Oh no.
You knew that look on Dean’s face.
Everyone did.
Garrett noticed a second later, muttering, “Shit.”
Dean was already moving.
You were out of your seat before anyone else reacted.
“Dean.”
He barely glanced at you, still stalking toward Hunter. “Y/N, move.”
His voice was dangerously calm.
“Dean, no.”
“I mean it.” He gently but firmly pushed you aside by your arm without looking away from Hunter. “Hey, Davenport!”
Every head in Malone’s started turning.
Hunter looked up from where he stood with a couple teammates near the bar.
Recognition flashed. Then smug amusement.
Huge mistake.
You saw Dean’s jaw tighten instantly.
“Dean Hayward Di Laurentis,” you snapped sharply, stepping in front of him again, “turn around right now.”
For the first time his eyes actually landed on you.
“What?”
“Turn around.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Because you knew him. Knew that once Dean got angry enough, common sense disappeared completely beneath loyalty and emotion and impulse.
You could practically see it happening now.
The tunnel vision. The adrenaline. One bad second away from ruining everything.
“Baby,” you said quickly, reaching for his wrist before you even realized the word slipped out, “listen to me. Just turn around, okay? Don’t do this.”
Silence.
Behind you, Logan choked on his drink.
Hannah’s eyes widened.
Garrett looked like he’d just witnessed a magic trick.
Because Dean froze.
Completely.
Not at the command, At the baby.
You saw it hit him in real time.
Saw the anger crack just enough for him to actually look at you properly.
And once he did, you knew you had him.
“Wha…” His voice came out rougher now. Confused. “What?”
Your fingers tightened around his wrist.
“Dean,” you said softly this time, desperate now that you had his attention, “walk away. Babe, we’ll deal with this, okay? But you are not throwing your life away over him.”
His chest rose heavily.
Still angry.
But now he was looking at you instead of Hunter.
“Look at me,” you whispered.
Dean’s eyes locked onto yours immediately.
There he is.
Not hockey Dean.
Not party Dean.
Not angry Dean.
Your Dean.
The one who always listened to you eventually.
“You hit him,” you continued carefully, “and then what? Suspension? Charges? You wanna explain that to your coach? Your family?”
Dean swallowed hard.
Hunter laughed somewhere behind you. “Aw, Di Laurentis needs his ex to calm him down?”
You felt Dean tense all over again.
“Dean,” you warned immediately.
His jaw flexed.
You stepped closer without thinking, both hands against his chest now.
And quieter, “Please.”
That did it.
You literally watched the fight drain out of him.
Not completely but enough.
Dean closed his eyes briefly before exhaling hard through his nose.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Relief hit you so fast your knees almost weakened.
Behind you, Garrett quietly said, “Holy shit.”
Dean looked down at you finally, really looked.
Your worried eyes.
Your grip on his shirt.
The way you were standing between him and a fistfight without hesitation.
“You called me babe,” he said quietly.
Heat flooded your face instantly. Of course that was what he focused on.
“Dean.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth despite everything. “You called me babe.”
“You were about to commit aggravated assault.”
“Yeah, but you said babe.”
You stared at him incredulously.
Logan barked out a laugh somewhere behind you.
Even Tucker muttered, “He’s unbelievable.”
Dean finally dragged his eyes away from you long enough to glare over your shoulder at Hunter.
Then back to you.
Then, with visible effort, he stepped backward.
Away from the fight.
The entire bar looked stunned.
Because nobody stopped Dean Di Laurentis when he got like that.
Nobody except you.
And the worst part is that you weren’t even together anymore.
summary: it’s casual, dean is a little less than casual when he sees someone elses hands on you.
—
Dean had never been jealous a day in his life.
Possessive? Sure.
Competitive? Absolutely.
But jealous? No.
At least that was what he told himself while staring so hard at the guy sitting beside you on the couch that Logan physically leaned over and took Dean’s beer from his hand before he crushed the can.
“You’re being weird,” Logan muttered.
Dean didn’t look away from you. “I’m not being weird.”
“You’ve looked two seconds away from murder since we walked in.”
Across the hockey house living room, you laughed at something the guy beside you said, head tipping back slightly. His hand rested on your knee like he belonged there.
Dean’s stomach twisted violently.
Garrett followed his line of sight and immediately groaned. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re jealous.”
Dean scoffed loudly enough to earn a glance from you across the room. “I’m literally not.”
“You absolutely are,” Garrett laughed. “This is incredible. I’ve never witnessed such a sight.”
Dean ignored them both, taking his beer back before shoving himself off the kitchen counter. He needed another drink. Or maybe twelve.
This was ridiculous.
You were single.
He was single.
That was the whole point.
From the beginning, the two of you had agreed this wasn’t serious. No labels. No exclusivity. No clinginess.
Just sex.
Really good sex.
The kind that had somehow turned into movie nights and late-night drives and you stealing his hoodies and Dean memorising your coffee order without meaning to.
Except now there was some finance major touching your thigh like he’d earned it, and Dean suddenly felt borderline homicidal and violently ill.
“You good, D?” Tucker asked as Dean grabbed vodka this time instead of beer.
“Fantastic.”
Tucker looked toward the couch.
“Oh,” he said carefully. “That bad?”
Dean glared at him. “Shut up.”
The worst part was that you looked good tonight.
Dean knew exactly what your skin felt like under his hands. Knew what you sounded like when he got you alone.
And now some other guy was making you laugh.
You spotted him hovering near the kitchen and smiled automatically.
That smile almost made it worse.
You excused yourself from the couch a few minutes later, weaving through the crowd toward him.
“There you are,” you said easily. “You disappeared.”
Dean leaned back against the counter. “You seemed busy.”
One eyebrow lifted immediately.
Uh oh.
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like an asshole.”
You folded your arms over your chest. “Dean.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been glaring at Evan all night.”
“Evan,” Dean repeated flatly. “Jesus Christ, even his name sucks.”
You stared at him for a second before realisation slowly crossed your face.
“No way…”
Dean took another drink.
“Oh my God,” you laughed quietly. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m annoyed.”
“Because I’m hooking up with someone else?”
The directness it was harder than he expected.
Dean’s jaw tightened. “I just think you could do better.”
You blinked at him slowly. “Dean. You literally sleep with half the female population of Briar.”
“Not anymore.”
The words slipped out too fast.
Your expression shifted slightly.
Dean immediately regretted opening his mouth.
You stepped closer, voice softer now, your fingers grazing softly over his shirt covered abdomen, “What’s going on with you?”
Dean didn’t know when this had happened.
Didn’t know when you’d become the first person he looked for at parties. Or when his bed started feeling empty without you in it. Or when hearing another guy make you laugh started feeling like someone scraping a knife against his ribs.
He was fucking Dean Di Laurentis.
He didn’t do this. Relationships were messy. Feelings complicated things. Casual was supposed to be easy.
But watching another guy touch you all night had made him feel insane. And maybe worse than insane was hurt.
“You said casual,” he said finally.
Your face softened slightly. “Hey, we both did.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Dean laughed once, bitter under his breath. “Because apparently I’m an idiot.”
You went quiet.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw before looking at you directly for the first time all night.
“I didn’t think I’d care.”
There it was.
Ugly and embarrassing and completely unavoidable now.
Your lips parted slightly.
Behind you, the music blasted and people were yelling.
Dean barely noticed any of it.
Because you were just staring at him.
“You care if I hook up with someone else?” you asked carefully.
Dean gave you a look. “That obvious?”
“A little.”
“Fantastic.”
A small smile tugged at your mouth before you shook your head. “You know what the crazy part is?”
“What?”
“I only started talking to Evan because I thought you were losing interest.”
Dean actually frowned. “What?”
“You stopped sleeping with random girls,” you said quietly. “You started acting weirdly domestic with me and then pulling away after. I figured maybe you were getting bored.”
“Bored?” Dean repeated like the word offended him personally.
You shrugged slightly. “You never said anything.”
“Because I was trying not to turn into a psychopath!”
You laughed softly.
Dean stepped closer before he could stop himself.
“You think I liked watching him touch you?”
Your breath caught slightly.
Dean noticed immediately because of course he did. “I almost put him through a wall, baby.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
Silence settled between you both, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter. The space between you was closing.
He knew he had no right to feel this way when he’d been the one insisting on casual from the start.
But standing here now, looking down at you with your mouth slightly pink from the drink in your hand and your eyes fixed on his, Dean realized something horrifying.
“You wanna know something pathetic?” he asked quietly.
You looked wary already. “Probably not.”
“I have your coffee order saved in my notes app.”
You blinked.
Dean pushed forward before he could lose his nerve.
“You leave hair ties all over my apartment and I don’t throw them out anymore. Tucker asked why there’s strawberry yogurt in our fridge because I don’t eat strawberry yogurt but you do when you’re studying. Garrett says I smile differently when you text me.” He paused. “And apparently seeing another guy touch you makes me physically ill.”
Your lips twitched despite yourself. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah,” Dean muttered. “That’s pretty much how I felt too.”
For a second neither of you moved.
Then quietly, “So what now?”
Dean looked at you for a long moment.
Then his eyes flicked toward the living room where Evan was still sitting on the couch waiting for your return.
“Now,” Dean said calmly, “I’m gonna walk over there and tell him to stop looking at my girl.”
Send OFF CAMPUS REQUESTS!! I will be writing for the boys when I get home 🫶🏻✨p.s. spice 🌶️ is allowed
And I really would love if you did a Dean DiLaurentis nsfw
Ask and you'll receive! And keep the requests coming!
Warnings: 18+. best friend's sister, p + v,
You were thankful for the empty house as you clutched at Dean’s sheets, feeling him grip your hips while pounding into you from behind. The squeaking of the bed was louder than ever, making you wonder how it was still holding up.
‘’I don’t know how I went so long without that ass,’’ Dean praised, smacking it.
Sweat clung from his sweaty chest, giving you his best performance to date — in his opinion. Guess it’s true that what’s forbidden tasted better.
The room smelled like sex and his stupidly expensive sandalwood cologne.
Every thrust shook the bedframe and you were pretty sure Tucker was going to murder Dean later for risking structural damage. But right now? Neither of you cared.
Dean leaned over your back, lips grazing your shoulder as he growled in that low, rough voice — the one only ever used for you, the one that made your stomach flip. ‘’You feel so good, babydoll. You love getting dicked down by me, uh?’’
He bit down on your earlobe — gentle but claiming — and then his hand slid around to grip your chin, turning you slightly so he could kiss you. Messy. Hungry.
You were arching into him, your breathy little moan going straight to his spine.
Dean had had plenty of girls before this moment.
But none who looked at him like they saw straight through the act. None who wore his jersey just to piss him off. None whose brother would actually kill him if he found out what was happening behind closed doors right now.
That thought should’ve scared him more than it did — but all it did was make Dean move harder into you, almost making you lose your balance and fall off the bed.
This little thing between you and Dean had been going on since Halloween. You hadn’t been able to resist him in that unbuttoned aviator suit. There had been a few drunk kisses before that night, but you had never been to his room — other than to drag his sleeping ass to Beau’s car one Saturday morning.
‘’Harder, fuck me harder,’’ you begged, your eyes getting blurry as you got close. He slammed himself further into you, hitting places that made your back arch. ‘’Yes! Right there!’’ you cried out, clenching around him and reaching your high.
Although you were finished, Dean didn’t stop, following a few thrusts later as he let out a deep, raspy sigh, the feeling of him releasing inside of you making you shudder.
Your whole body gave out as he pulled out, feeling completely exhausted. Dean collapsed onto his back beside you, one arm flung over his eyes as he tried to remember how to breathe normally. Sex was never boring with him.
You turned his head slightly toward him, his messy blond hair splayed across the pillow and his toned chest glowing with a sheen of post-sex sweat. God, that man was beautiful. Your eyes lowered to his neck, finding a red mark from your lips. The corner of yours curled at the sight. This was your mark on him. If you sit close enough, you should be able to see it from the stands at the game tomorrow. Unfortunately, this won’t be enough to ward off the puck bunnies…
Around you, the bed looked like a warzone, sheets tangled beyond recognition and pillows missing. How did you manage to do that?
A slow grin crept onto Dean’s face — the kind of stupidly satisfied smile only Dean wore after doing something incredibly reckless and wildly hot at once. ‘’Turned out to be a good thing practice got moved,’’ he said, laughing.
You joined in the laughter, only to be interrupted by Dean’s phone going off. He picked it up from the nightstand, answering without checking the ID.
The second Beau’s voice crackled through the speaker, Dean glanced at you, then cleared his throat before speaking. ‘’Hey,’’ he said casually, propping himself up on one elbow.
‘’Dude! Where are you?’’ your brother’s voice asked through the speaker, making you tense. ‘’I went to the rink to catch you before heading to Malone’s, but Logan said practice had been moved up and you left one hour ago.’’
Dean winced internally. ‘’Yeah. Coach had a call to make, and the ice was free so.’’
‘’Right. Well, I’m picking up my sister at her dorm and then going to Malone’s. You coming?’’
Shit. You completely forgot that you agreed to join the boys tonight. Hannah and Grace were going to be there and you hadn’t seen them in a long time.
What were you going to wear? You wanted to look sexy, but too sexy would get you called out by your brother. And how were you going to make it to your dorm before Beau got there? It was mission impossible.
While you were zoning out, Dean stroked a hand along your naked thigh, making you slap his hand away as it got close to your cunt. Absolutely not!
“When do I ever miss a night at Malone’s?”
They hung up and you smacked Dean’s chest, hard. ‘’What the hell is wrong with you?’’ You stood up and began hurriedly looking for your clothes. ‘’Answering my brother’s call while I’m right there. Naked. Are you fucking insane? Do you have a death wish because—’’
‘’He didn’t see shit through the phone, calm babydoll.’’
You found your panties in the tornado of clothes and slipped them on, but the rest was still missing.
“You’re missing the point!’’ you said, spotting your shirt and jeans near the desk, right by Dean’s gym bag. ‘’If he finds out we’re seeing each other behind his back…”
“He won’t,” Dean assured, sitting up in his bed and watching you move around the room.
Jumping in your jeans, you pushed that worry to the back of your mind and searched for an excuse knowing Beau will get to your dorm before you. Even if you were a fast runner — which you were not —, there was no way you would get there before him.
‘’And where the fuck is my phone?’’ you grumbled in a panic, not seeing it anywhere.
To help retrieve it, Dean called you from his…and the loud sound of Britney’s voice filled the room.
“WOMANIZER, WOMAN-WOMANIZER—”
Dean froze.
You froze.
‘’Really? Womanizer?!’’
Your face burned as you bent at the foot of the bed where your phone was blaring loudly and turned it off. ‘’Now is not the time, Dean.’’
You set this song as his ringtone a long time ago. A long long time ago. You were sitting with Jules, watching Dean making out with Kendall on the kitchen counter shamelessly. They had seen him kissing another girl earlier that night and, as a joke, said this song was written about him. As the night went on, you got drunker and ended up setting Womanizer as his ringtone. And you just never changed it.
‘’What song should I give you? It’s only fair you get one too, right?’’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘’How about…Ah!’’ A grin broke on his face.
‘’Baby, I can make that pussy rain, often. Often, often, girl, I do this often. Make that pussy poppin', do it how I want it. Often, often, girl, I do this often—’’
══════════════════
Off Campus taglist: @f1rewhiskey @formula1-motogpfan @schinug @skyesthebomb
wow y'all are killing me with the enthusiasm on my last post (in the best way)... lots of dean requests in those comments so i wrote this quickly! hope to follow it with a fuller fic (probably dean x plus size!r)
dean di laurentis x reader
smut (mdni!), catching feelings
wc: ~1.1k
Your fingers thread through the mop of too-blonde hair currently taking its sweet time between your legs. When you tug slightly, Dean’s moans vibrate through your core.
“Fuck, Di Laurentis,” you pant. “How are you actually so good at this? It’s really fucking — oh, fuck — annoying.”
Dean picks up the pace and presses just that little bit harder. Your legs start shaking. His hands, gripping your thighs, squeeze tighter and shake them even more. Your pleasure builds and builds until it finally peaks, a loud, involuntary sound leaving you as your orgasm sends jolts through your entire body, as it does every time Di Laurentis gets between your legs.
Your skin is still extra sensitive as Dean licks and nips at you, giving the inside of your thigh a tiny bite as he finally emerges. His characteristic smirk is splayed across his face, as is the shiny evidence of what he’s just done.
“I’m sorry, ‘annoying’? Obviously I was blowing your mind so hard, you couldn’t even think straight. I think the word you were looking for was ‘amazing’? ‘Astounding’ maybe?”
Your hand hasn’t moved from its position on his head, and you tug his long locks again, a little harder this time. He lets you, and it annoys you to no end how hot he looks, chin tilting up from your pulling, his lips parted, an amused smile ghosting them, your juices still coating them.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you deadpan. “I meant what I said.”
He glares at you but can’t help his spreading smile as he crawls his way up your body.
“The part where you said I was soo good?” he emphasizes the last couple of words lewdly. “Or the part where you screamed so loud I think the whole campus heard you?”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but he can read the mirth in them. “You are so full of yourself.”
“I think,” he teases, giving your lips a quick peck, “You’re just mad because you want to be full of me…” He kisses you again, more tongue this time. He ruts his prominent erection between your legs to punctuate his suggestion.
“Fuck, Dean,” you can’t help but whimper, rutting up to meet his hips. He doesn’t plan on saying so out loud, but every time you use his first name, especially in bed, his hard-on gets impossibly harder. He chuckles at your reaction, and you laugh with him.
“Get inside me then,” you say and wrap your legs around his waist. His responding groan is deep and tells you just how much he wants to.
He devours your mouth as he slowly slips inside you, pausing when he bottoms out. Dean keeps making out with you lazily as he languidly moves in and out. Usually, he’d be pounding in to you by now, but this time, he wants to take his time.
You grip his ass and encourage him to move faster.
“Come on, baby, fuck me, please,” you slur as you don’t stop kissing him.
Oh, fuck. ‘Baby’ is new, and all he can think about is what to do to you to make you call him that again. His hips pick up speed; his mouth wanders your lips, your jaw, your neck. The sounds you make as he goes harder and harder spur him on.
“Fuck, Dean, fuuuck..”
He groans into the crook of your neck. He’s getting way too close, needs to get you there first. He shifts his angle the slightest bit, making his pubic bone hit your clit as he keeps thrusting. He feels your hands clutch him tighter, your legs squeeze around him, and a couple thrusts later, the moans you make as you orgasm, your lips right by his ear, send him over the edge with you even before your pulsing around his cock prolongs it even further.
Dean keeps up his motions as you both come down, just much slower, gently kissing your shoulder and neck. When he finally stills, he doesn’t roll off of you like usual, staying on top of you, feeling you breathe under him.
He pulls his face back to look at you, and it hits him just how gorgeous you are. He’s too far gone to really notice that that’s usually a thought he has when he wants to fuck someone, not after he already has.
He pecks your lips then lingers a bit as he plants a kiss on your forehead. You giggle, and he pulls back.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing, just tickles,” you say easily. His heart flutters.
“Oh yeah? What about this?” His hands move to your ribcage, tickling you mercilessly. His weight on top of you keeps you from being able to escape his evil, wandering hands. Not that you are trying all that hard.
“Stop, Dean, stop!” you laugh, smacking then holding on to his broad shoulders.
“Okay, okay,” he says as he finally does, still laughing lightly.
You both just stare at each other as you catch your breaths. Your smiles fade slowly, and when there’s only traces of them left, you realize the mood has melted with them. It’s less playful, heavier somehow.
Dean’s eyes move down to your lips. You’ve seen him do this many times now, so you don’t know why it catches your attention differently this time. He kisses you.
As he pulls back, you smile but whisper, “I should probably go. It’s getting kind of late.”
He looks surprised for a moment then something more somber for a fraction of one before he says, “Yeah, yeah,” with a chuckle as he rolls off of you.
You can feel his eyes on you as you collect your clothes from around his room then put them on.
“Have you seen my sweatshirt? Sounds windier out there.”
“Um, no, I don’t think you were wearing one when you got here. No worries, though, just borrow one of mine.” He gets up and tosses you one.
“Thanks,” comes out muffled as you slip it on.
“No problem.”
“Alright then.”
“Yeah.”
Why was this awkward? Saying bye was never awkward with you.
“See you later?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says with a smile. He hopes it looks easier than it feels.
“I’ll give this back next time,” you say, tugging the sweatshirt. Damn, it looks good on you. He almost wants to tell you to keep it.
“Yeah, of course, whatever,” he shrugs.
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
“Bye.” You punctuate it with a short kiss as you head toward the door.
“Bye,” he echoes as he closes it after you. A whispered “fuck” leaves his lips as he leans on it after you leave. He really shouldn’t already be thinking about ‘next time,’ especially given the thoughts have nothing to do with getting his sweatshirt back.
summary: you accidentally hear strange sounds from dean's room
c/w: smut, hot dean, naked dean, water glistening his skin dean, did I say hot dean, masturbating contest
a/n: i genuinely can't take my mind off of him i hope you guys suffer the same way as i do
You are walking to Garett's place right after your class. You intend to return his girlfriend Hannah's musical notes that you borrowed earlier. You texted her and she said to just come over to this house because it's closer than walking to her place and because well—she's busy making out with her boyfriend on the couch in the living room.
"Seriously? This is how I'm greeted with?"
Your voice breaks their kiss with their eyes wide. Although Garett quickly recovers, he doesn't take his arms off of his girl, glaring at you like you just ruined his perfect moment. You kind of did, but whatever.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry. I was waiting for your update but you didn't call?" Her voice is high from the embarrassment and the sentence ends in questions because she's sure you'd call again but you didn't.
"Yeah, my phone died."
Garett rolls his eyes at your answers. "You just ruined our kiss, you know." Hannah immediately hits his chest, giddy yet signaling him to behave.
"Oh I'm sorry I ruined your hot make out session." You say in mock playfulness. Hannah laughs at that, her voice sweet in your ear. She's such a lovely girl.
"Anyway, these are your musical notes, thank you. And do you guys have a charger? My phone is like, dying dead." You turn to look at them both.
"Oh, I think Garett has it. Right, Garett?" He gives her a look that makes her blush. "Right, baby?"
You make a disgusted face at that. He smiles at her then looks at you. "It's in my room. You know where it is."
Your feet step on the stairs. "Beside Dean's right?" You wonder where the rest of the boys are because the house is oddly quiet.
You don't hear his answer so you turn your head just to look at them back making out again. "Ugh, you guys are unbelievable." You roll your eyes as you climb the stairs and refuse to look back.
"Right back at you." Garett says, his voice muffled by Hannah's giggle. You just shake your head.
Garett's room door is opened while Dean's door hung partially open, making you curious what his room looks like. You wonder if he's home, you didn't ask Garett beforehand. But it doesn't matter, you step into Garett's room to quickly grab his charger and leave. But before you climb down the stairs, you hear a faint sound of moans.
You try to shrug it down, maybe it's Dean or his friend with a random girl. But you don't hear the girl's moan. You take a peek downstairs, Hannah is still on Garett's lap, laughing about something. You turn on your feet and walk towards the source of the sound.
It's from Dean's room.
Following your impulse curiosity, you open the door slightly to take a peek at what's inside. You know you shouldn't be doing this, but stepping inside the famous charming womanizer to follow the sound of his grunts? Well you can't miss this.
You finally steps inside his room. It is surprisingly neat and clean. And it really indicates that he's someone who prioritizes his hygiene and looks. Because the products are everywhere. You will bring it up and use it against him in the future, you grin to yourself. The most wanted man on campus really cares about his looks. Can't wait to see his face.
He faces you backwards, his bathroom door barely closed. And now you can see it clearly with your eyes. He's jerking off. Dean Di Laurentis is jerking off. He fists his cock. He strokes his dick. Whatever. The sight is so salivating and interesting that you have to look at his butt and the way he throws his head back in pleasure for a few seconds before you call him out.
"Don't have your girls to please you, do you, Dean?"
He immediately snaps his neck towards you and his eyes widen in panic. His hand's quick to close the door in a loud bang and you let out your laugh. You can hear him cursing to himself in the bathroom now that the water stops running.
Then he comes out of the bathroom wearing only white towel that just covers the bulge between his legs. Obviously, he hasn't cum. Or else his face wouldn't be flushed red with embarrassment and frustration.
You check him out from head to toe without shame. His blonde strands are wet, the edge of them dripping water from the shower. His skin is sheen, showing he doesn't even dry himself properly. With lack of time and being caught in the middle of masturbating, you assume it is understandable. His muscles are even more tempting, not to mention his broad, ripe chest. And the abs, oh the abs.
"You done checking me out?"
"Hmm... Not yet." You tilt your head menacingly. He huffs, ruffling his hair, probably to act cool and not showing too much of his embarrassment.
"I see no girl in there."
"There is no girl." He replies almost immediately, looking at you now.
"Oh. Didn't think you were the independent type." You make a mock innocent face at him. He looks irritated now. He looks at the phone charger in your hand then looks at his on his table, then the gears turn behind his eyes once he realizes it's probably Garett's.
"You should leave." He says in a neutral tone, his one hand on his hips while the other holds the towel. You wonder if it'll fall out now.
"It's not gonna fall down, so stop eyeing me, pervert."
You make a disapproved expression. "Pervert? I'm not the one fisting my cock in the shower."
"That's because you don't have a cock." He shoots back immediately, although you can very clearly see the line of regret in his face after you say that. You press your lips to hide your laugh.
He exhales heavily. "Just, please leave."
"Aww, poor you. Must be frustrating to not cumming." After you finish your last word, he approaches you abruptly until his forehead almost touches yours. You don't back down.
"Now that you don't wanna leave, you should help me with this."
"With what? Your sexual frustration? Your hard dick?"
He clenches his jaw and you want to grab it down and kiss him rough. What you didn't expect is him going to the door and lock it. Then he turns to look at you.
"Oh wow. I'm forbidden to get out."
"You are." Now that he's not so helpless, that smug grin comes on the surface. You are very annoyed for finding it mad attractive. Because it is.
He walks towards you slowly, like he's taking his time. Now it's his turn to eye you up and down, making sure he doesn't miss a single sight. You grin. "Now who's the pervert?"
He drops his towel on purpose, his cock standing proud and hard while he puts his hand and strokes it slowly. "Me."
Your breath hitched, causing his lips to pull into that jackass smirk. "Thought someone agreed to help me."
You look at him for a moment before taking a step closer towards him. "I did, didn't I." You say quietly as you push his chest, making him fall to the nearest chair in a sudden move. He squints his eyes on you but doesn't complain. On the contrary, his blood rushes to his already hardening dick.
You stand in front of him, sending him a knowing look with a faint smile. He quickly gets that as his hand comes back down to stroke his dick as you unbutton your clothes.
He looks at you intensely from his seat, switching between holding eye contact and following your fingers movement. His face scrunches as he can't hold back his grunt when you're finally bare, sitting on his bed, your legs opened, one hand slowly comes down to your core.
Fuck, you're gorgeous. Your eyes shine with lust and thrill, your lips hold that teasing, naughty smile, and the sound you make—he's done.
You never break eye contact as you finger your slick pussy and play with your clit. Your sigh and moan fills the room, making his chest heavy with sigh as your voice turns him on more than he could imagine he's capable of.
"Are you enjoying the show, Dean?"
He sucked his teeth. "Not a show when I'm also looking at one."
Your finger hits that particular spot and you moan. "So cocky now when you were the one asking for my help in the first place." Your voice is breathy and trembling. His hips jerk uncontrollably at it.
"I'm gonna come." He says through his gritted teeth. His veins pop out of his forehead and drops of sweat falling from it as his face twists in frustration and pleasure.
You pinch your clit. "Mhm, me too."
You both edge yourself without taking your eyes off of each other, even when he rubs his sensitive tip and you circle your swollen clit. Your breath becomes short and heavy as you chase your release.
You cum first, the sight of your pussy clenching around your fingers and milk your wrist sets him off that he follows you quickly after.
You both pant, you're still unconsciously grinding your fingers, chasing for more friction. He grins through the coming down haze.
"You just came and you already want more?" He says in that mocking tone of his, his voice is still raw and husky after his intense release.
You can't help but blush at getting caught. Shit, how did you not realize you're still riding your fingers. But your release is so intense that most of the nights alone in your bed that you let your guard down and you can't help it. He's right. You want more.
He grins in triumph at catching your vulnerable desire, and you want to come up with smartass remarks when you hear knocking on the door, followed by Garett's familiar voice after.
"Hey, you've found the charger, right?"
You and Dean exchange looks right away.
Oh, fuck.
yeay dean smut done! i can't wait to write for more! send your thoughts in the comments guys xoxo 💋💋💗💗
Warnings: smut, Clit Rubbing, scissoring, lots of kissing, face riding, eating out, choking, explicit Language.
A/n: This is my first smut so please don't hate haha.
Y/N strolled through the aisles of a bustling shopping center, browsing through the latest fashion trends. As she reached for a cute sweater, her phone buzzed, indicating an incoming call. She looked at the screen and smiled; it was her good friend Cassie.
"Hey, Cassie!" Y/N greeted warmly, answering the call. "What's up?"
"Hey, Y/N!" Cassie's voice sounded excited on the other end. "I was wondering if you wanted to sleepover tonight!"
Y/N's eyes lit up, and she couldn't help but grin. "That sounds great, Cassie! Count me in! What time should I come over?"
Cassie replied enthusiastically, "Come over around 7 pm!"
Y/N nodded eagerly, even though Cassie couldn't see. "I can't wait! I'll bring my favorite board games. Oh, and maybe some snacks too."
"Perfect!" Cassie exclaimed. "I'll let Kat and Maddy know. They've been dying for a sleepover too. It's going to be an epic night!"
As the conversation continued, Y/N finished up her shopping and headed towards the checkout counter. They discussed their plans, making sure everything was set for the much-anticipated sleepover. The excitement in their voices was contagious, causing Y/N's anticipation to grow with every passing minute.
Later that evening, Y/N arrived at Cassie's house with a bagful of board games and snacks. The door opened, revealing a beaming Cassie, already wearing her favorite pair of cozy pajamas.
"Y/N, you made it!" Cassie exclaimed, pulling her friend into a warm hug. "Maddy and Kat are in the living room!"
Soon enough they had all gathered in her cozy living room, filled with blankets and pillows, ready for a night of laughter and adventure.
As the night progressed, they found themselves engrossed in the movie "Clueless," but soon enough, their excitement dwindled, and they started itching for something more exciting.
Cassie, being the bold and mischievous one, suggested they play a game of truth or dare. The group agreed, and they huddled together, ready for a night of revealing secrets and daring challenges.
Cassie spun the bottle, and it pointed right at her. Kat wasted no time in coming up with a dare for her. "I dare you to call your sister; Lexi and say the weirdest thing you can think of!"
Cassie's eyes gleamed mischievously as she happily took out her phone and dialed Lexi's number. As the others listened intently, Cassie giggled and proceeded to say the strangest things that came to her mind. Laughter echoed throughout the room as they imagined Lexi's bewildered reactions.
After a few more rounds of truth or dare, it was finally Y/N's turn. "Truth or dare."
"Truth." Y/n replied.
Maddy, feeling curious, couldn't help but ask, "Y/N, have you ever kissed a girl?"
Y/N blushed and shyly replied, "No, I haven't."
As the night wore on, the girls found themselves growing bored of playing truth or dare. Cassie, exhausted from the excitement, had passed out on the couch. Y/N and Maddy were left to their own devices, trying to figure out how to keep the momentum of the evening going.
Just as they were pondering what to do next, Kat's phone buzzed with a message. Curiosity piqued, she picked up her phone and read the message, her eyes widening with surprise. It was from Ethan, asking her to come over.
Unable to contain her excitement, Kat turned to Y/N and Maddy. "Guess what, guys? Ethan just messaged me and asked me to come over! I'm gonna head out for a bit." With a sheepish smile, she got up from her spot and made her way towards the door.
Left alone together, Y/N and Maddy exchanged glances. In Maddy's eyes, a playful spark danced, and she decided to revisit the question she had asked earlier. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Y/N and asked, "You know my question earlier, right?"
Your Pov
You nodded, recalling the question about kissing a girl. Your heart raced slightly, wondering where Maddy was going with this conversation.
Maddy's mischievous smile grew wider as she leaned closer to you and asked, "Would you like to give it a try?"You hesitated for a moment, contemplating the situation.
You slowly nodded and the two girls leaned in, eyes shut as their lips slowly met in the middle.
Maddys lips felt soft against mine as they collided, before slowly pulling away.
Your body went stiff, your breathing caught in your throat. "Relax," she says softly, using her right hand to move a strand of hair out of your face. You exhale, letting yourself loosen up. "Good girl."
Maddy smirked looking into your eyes before leaning in again to capture you into a much deeper kiss. Your lips move together slowly, yet passionately.
You could feel Maddy's warm breath on your cheek as she softly enters her tongue, and your tongues begin to playfully intertwine.
You begin lightly massaging your fingers into Maddy's hair, in which she lets out a small moan in response.
However, the thought of cassie sleeping beside you, quickly brings you back to reality, and you realise that you both may have gotten a bit too carried away.
"Cassie might, wake up," you remind maddy in-between kisses, eliciting a groan from her as she pulls your waist towards her so that your chests were touching.
"No," Maddy hesitates, her desire evident in her attempts to intensify the kiss. She doesn't want to break away, so she starts increasing the speed of your lip movements.
However, you hesitated and suggested, "Why don't we go to the bathroom at least?"
Maddy giggled mischievously and took hold of your hand, leading you towards the Howard's home bathroom.
Upon entering, Maddy swiftly pressed You against the wall and passionately kissed you.
"Now that you've kissed a girl..." Maddy whispered in-between kisses, "what about fucking one." She spoke her hand travelling down to your core, massaging you through the fabric. You let out a whimper in response.
"You like that baby?" Maddy smirked.
"Fuck yes." You moaned out, reaching up to remove your bralette, leaving you in her short flowy skirt.
"No bra?" Maddy chuckled, before connecting your lips once again.
You moaned against her lips as she continued rubbing circles against your throbbing clit.
You felt an orgasm approaching, and you gripped Maddy's shoulder as your thighs trembled. She noticed how close you were and stopped, causing you to pout.
"I wanna taste you." Maddy whispered
"Please." Y/n whimpered, Maddy then snaking her fingers around the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them off.
Maddy reluctantly pulls her bra off, throwing it on the ground, diving down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses before reaching your breasts and placing her mouth around your nipple.
Your hands travel down to her jeans, and you start to unbutton her pants. She moves your hands and finishes unbuttoning her jeans herself, sliding them off of her and kicking them onto the ground.
Slowly, laying down on the cold floor, bare, Maddy beckons you with a soft whisper, “Come here," lightly pulling your body down. You sat on top of her shyly, your bare pussy resting on her abdomen.
"Pretty pussy." She smirks, before slapping your cunt, causing you to yelp before she leans down and kisses your clit sweetly.
"sit on my face." She demands, putting her hands on your hips and encouraging you to scoot up. You comply, adjusting yourself until your pussy is hovering over her mouth.
You could feel her nails lightly scratching at your waist before she, pushed your hips down and buried her face into your pussy, her tongue swirling against your folds.
You grind your hips against her mouth, looking down to see your skirt covering half her face. She placed her hands under your skirt and on the curve of your ass, guiding you up and down her tongue.
"Fuck... you taste so good," she moans against your clit as she sucks harshly.
"Don't stop!" you cried, your thighs already shaking, she hums against your clit in response, wrapping her arms around your thighs to keep you on her face.
"cum for me." she says, coaxing you through an orgasm. Moans and curse words spill from your lips.
Your body spasms as white flashes before your eyes, everything around you disappearing and pure euphoria consuming your body.
you continue to sloppily ride out your high on Maddy's face, your climax washes over you and she makes sure to catch every last drop of your release. You twitch as she uses her tongue to clean you up.
Maddy quickly turns both of you over, firmly requesting, "give me your leg."
You lift up your leg and she puts it over her shoulder. She positions herself between your legs until your cunts are touching. You moan at the feeling of her warm and wet pussy against yours. She wraps her arm around your leg, her hand making its way around your neck. She slowly starts to grind against you, both of your throbbing clits massaging each others. The whine that falls from her lips surprise you, sending a shiver through your body.
You groan as you feel the rhythm of her movements, your hand moving to cup one side of her waist to steady her. Moans spill from your mouth, the feeling of pure ecstasy tingling through your bodies.
Each motion creates an intense friction between us, causing her to moan loudly as the pleasure intensifies.
She squeezes your neck, causing your eyes to roll back to your head, as you practically melt into her, squirming beneath her touch.
"Fuck, you feel so good against me." she says, looking down and watching the way your cunts slide against each other.
"Fuck-" she spat, her chest rising up and down abnormally fast, throwing her head back and squeezing your neck harder.
"I'm gonna cum." she cried, her clit pulsing against yours.
"Me too." you moaned, closing your eyes.
The amount of pleasure you were experiencing was not like anything you've felt before. You both were practically screaming as you reached reached your climax.
You felt her fluids spill onto your heat, her body quivering as she continues to ride out her high against you. You follow her orgasm shortly after her, shockwaves are sent throughout your body. All to be heard were two wet pussys kissing one another.
She lays down next to you, staring at the celling. Both of you just taking a moment to gather yourselves, trying to catch your breaths. "Holy shit, that was fucking hot." she exhales.
— late night devil put your hand on me | clark kent
+ red k!clark kent x f!reader
summary: you love teasing clark when he's under the influence of red kryptonite.
tags: oneshot, plot what plot, pure smut 18+, red kryptonite!clark, DIRTY talk, light choking, dom!clark
a/n: wrote this instead of masturbating since i'm obsessed with redk!clark a normal amount. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.
wc: 2k
The air is thrumming with loud music, the sound vibrating through your chest, but it's nothing compared to the pure tension radiating off of the man standing in front of you.
Clark looks so different with that ring on. There's a wildness in his eyes, a little pucker to his lips that is so not Clark, but it drives you absolutely wild.
You're swaying to the music, fluid and sensual and the strobing lights are making your moves seem all the more enchanting. You let your hands wander, skimming over the fabric of your dress, up your sides, dragging them along all the places that you want Clark to notice.
His dark, dark eyes follow every move with a heated intensity, hungry and primal. As if he were a predator, ready and waiting to pounce on his prey.
"You're just going to keep watching me?" you ask, over the bass that's vibrating through your chest. You let your fingers slide down your ribcage, further and then some, tracing the sides of your hips, and back up, up, pulling the hem of your skirt along.
A flash of plush skin, a blink and miss moment, but it absolutely wrecks Clark.
You watch his eyes darken, lips parting just slightly as his throat bobs up and down.
You're turning yourself on, gaze fixated on the oh so long column of his neck that's disappearing into a black shirt. A black leather jacket shapes his perfect silhouette, as he leans back against the bar counter sipping his drink, his gaze never leaving yours.
The rhythm pulses through your blood as you turn around. You rake your fingers through your hair, gathering it up to expose the nape of your neck. As the beat drops, you whip back around— breath hitching and mouth parting.
Clark still hasn't moved but there's a shift. His jaw ticks, chest heaving as his eyes trace the curves of your figure.
The sway of your hips is deliberate, calculated. You want him to follow the movement, want him to be utterly hypnotised. Want him to use his enhanced senses to see right through you. See how much you're aching for him.
You lift a hooked finger in his direction and beckon him closer. Bite your lower lip and his jaw cracks, teeth clenching. That is his undoing. Suddenly he's there, looming before you in a flash, smelling like bitter gin and diesel. Clark's eyes are almost black, a thin rim of red surrounding his pupils.
He doesn't say anything.
His hand clamps around your wrist, shackling— and he yanks you toward the service exit, your heels clicking as you stumble to keep up with his stride. The thumping bass of the club drowns into a muffled thrum as you step outside into the frigid, midnight air.
You don’t even make it to the end of the alley. Before you can catch your breath, Clark has you shoved against the nearest wall, the heat of his body swallowing you whole. There’s a faint, dangerous red glow in his eyes as he crowds your space, his mouth crashing against yours.
He groans into your mouth, fingers digging deep into your plush skin, his nails carving pricking crescents into your hips. You know they’ll be purple by morning and you don't care. When Clark gets like this, the red kryptonite flowing through his veins, all he wants to do is consume you.
Use every inch of you until there's nothing left but his mark.
“Ahmmh— Clark.”
Your fingers tangle in his hair, as he drags his lips from your mouth to graze the column of your neck. His palms slide up your thighs to the curves of your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress until he finds purchase, pulling you flush against him with a firm, possessive squeeze.
"You like being a little brat, don't you?" he asks against your skin, his voice all velvety with amusement and something else, something dark.
"Only for you," you murmur into the air, pushing into his pressing heat, feeling the hard length of his against your aching core.
"Oh yeah?" he hums, cupping your face and kissing you once more, his mouth tasting like iron and blood. You roll against him as his hand wanders downwards, squeezing your breast.
He gives the nipple a little flick, sending a sharp, electric spark that has you arching against him and biting your lip.
"I need you, baby," you whine, hands scrambling under his jacket, palms flat against the hard, radiating furnace of his chest. "Wanna feel you inside me."
Clark growls at that, flashing his teeth, animalistic. His low register reverberates through your core.
His hand dives, plunging in between your thighs, fingers pressing against your soaked silk panties. You gasp, hitting your head on the wall behind you.
His fingers trace the damp fabric, unravelling you, and you whimper in his ear. “My my,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re fucking drenched.”
He moves the panty line aside, and drags his thumb down your slick cunt, collecting your leaking arousal. You moan his name— a broken, high-pitched plea— as he smears it back into you.
"That happen when you were dancing for me?" he murmurs against your skin, teeth raking along the length of your throat. "Shaking your ass in that sexy dress like a little slut? Thinking about exactly this?"
His words shoot a wave of heat flashing through your core. He presses his thumb hard against your clit, a blunt pressure that makes your vision white out.
"Answer me."
He doesn't move his hand; just keeps pushing on your clit, pinning you to the brick until you’re squirming, your hips stuttering instinctively against his palm.
"I asked you a question, baby," he murmurs, his lips brushing your earlobe, cold air biting at the wet trail he’s left on your neck. "Were you thinking about me taking you in the dirt?”
You try to nod, a broken sound catching in your throat, but he yanks your hair back— not enough to hurt, just enough to make you look at him in his burning eyes.
"Words, sweetheart," he grunts. "Want to hear how bad you want it."
"Yesyes. Yes. Please— fuck," you gasp, your fingers digging into the leather of his jacket.
He chuckles, a dark rumbling sound. He slides one finger inside you— the finger with that damned ring— hooking it against your wall and pulling. The ring brushes against your inside, the hot metal, searing. You nearly collapse, your knees turning to water.
"Please what?" he withdraws the finger entirely, leaving you cold and aching. He steps back just an inch, enough to let the freezing alley air hit your soaked thighs.
"I don't hear you begging yet."
"Clark, please please baby— nhngh—"
He watches you, his chest heaving, those red eyes scanning your desperate face. He knows you're balanced on a knife's edge.
"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he asks in a cruel, silken tone. "And maybe I’ll think about putting you out of your misery."
"Everything," you choke out, the word breaking into a sob. Your fingers claw at his jacket, desperate to pull that suffocating heat back against you. "I want you to ruin me. Right here."
His jaw sets, a muscle leaping in his cheek as he drinks in your ruined state. The red in his pupils flares and your legs almost give out under you.
"Good girl," he rasps, the words dark and final.
He flips you around then, the jagged wall cutting into your skin as his hips slot behind yours and your breath hitches. He buries his nose into your nape, biting hard.
"Gonna take it off," he warns, his voice a low rasp. He hooks his fingers into the lace of your underwear before ripping them right off. The sudden bite of the cool night air hits your wet, pulsing cunt, and you hiss through your teeth. Clark’s hand tangles deep into your hair, fisting the strands to yank your head back as he presses another bruising kiss to your neck.
"I could smell that sweet scent of your pretty pussy in the club, baby," he growls into your skin, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Teasin' me, making me ache."
He lets go of your hair, dropping the hand lower to cup and squeeze your leaking core. You whimper uselessly against the gravelly, brick wall as his relentless fingers knead and pull at your slick folds.
Without warning, he drives himself inside, filling you up his length all at once. The bluntness of it makes you cry out, Clark's name echoing off the damp alleyway.
His fingers climb up the column of your neck, and clench around your pressure point, making you gasp.
"So fucking desperate for my attention," he grunts, his grip tightening— stealing your breath— as he begins to slam into you from behind with a relentless, unforgiving rhythm.
"Needy little thing," he grits out through clenched teeth. Every heavy thrust sends a jolt through your frame, making your vision swim and your eyes roll back.
"You love it like this, don't ya?"
Another heavy thrust and he bottoms out. You feel your senses beginning to fray at the edges, the world narrowing down to the friction between your thighs and the iron grip on your neck. You manage a broken whine, a sound of pure, helpless need.
"Can't even breathe but like making noise f'me," his voice, deep and low in your ear, as he ruts against you.
The pain is a sharp, electric blur that bleeds into agonising pleasure.
He abruptly releases your neck, and you choke in desperate lungfuls of air, your chest heaving. The sudden rush of oxygen sharpens the sensation of him—so fucking thick— as he continues to drive deep and pull back, the movement dizzying.
“So fucking tight,” he groans against you, thrusting deep, fucking you open. “You feel like heaven," he grits out, as his other thumb begins to circle your clit, while he continues to pound into you mercilessly.
"ClarkpleaseClarkplease—” you whine as you buck, feeling that familiar tug somewhere deep in your abdomen.
A dark, sinful chuckle vibrates against the sensitive spot behind your ear.
"That's it, baby," he moans, his movements turning into a hard, grinding friction that makes your knees buckle, building that sweet sensation. “Give it all to me.”
The orgasm ripples through you— white-hot and burning. You shudder violently under his heavy frame, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer just as he heaves against you, his own release hitting with a force that leaves you both gasping and cursing in the dark.
Clark pulls out, pushing off of you, already adjusting his clothes, the snap of his belt echoing off the brick. You stand there, legs trembling, the cold wind stinging the still leaking wetness on your thighs— a messy heat of his cum and your own ruined slick. You slowly turn around, not trusting yourself with fast movements.
His eyes are still dark, that lingering red glow seeming to have only strengthened in his eyes. Without a word, he reaches down and jerks your skirt back into place, the fabric snagging against your damp skin. He doesn’t even bother to wipe you down. Leaves his mark right there, soaking into your clothes.
Before you can even find your footing, he surges forward, scooping you into his arms. You let out a startled gasp, your arms instinctively hooking around his neck; it’s a mercy, because your knees were about to give.
"Where are we going?" you breathe, your voice a wrecked rasp.
He doesn't look at you as he starts to walk, and you feel a low flame ignite in your belly.
“Home," he murmurs, against your temple. "I'm in the mood for breaking some furniture.”
*
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Summary: you get annoyed you cant give Clark a hickey like he always does you
Warnings: smut. Hickeys, scratching, maybe a little ooc!Clark idk I haven’t watched smallville yet
An: i wrote this with a major headache and on my phone so dont come for me for any mistakes please.
The adorable innocent Clark Kent isn’t as innocent as he seems. Clark is very hands on during sex, kissing, caressing, sucking.
Every time he had you in his bed he made sure to leave some reminisce of him on you, a reminder that he’d been there and that you were his.
That’s why you let out a groan when you saw the hickey he left right under your jaw that’d be impossible for you to hide.
It didn’t really annoy you it was just a pain to go through all the stares and teasing but you wore them with pride.
What did annoy you was that he couldn’t carry the marks you tried to leave on him, his reminder that he is yours.
You sighed to yourself as your fingers ran over the purple hickey.
Walking out of the bathroom you moved over to Clark who was comfortably situated in the small couch in your room with a textbook in his lap and a pen in his mouth.
He looked up at you giving you a small smile, his lips curling sexily around the pen. You grabbed the textbook tossing it to your bed and did the same with the pen in his mouth.
His surprised expression made you want to laugh “what’s up baby?” He asked as you sat onto his lap. You pointed to the purple spot on your jaw, “this is what’s wrong Clark” you sighed.
He looked confused, you’d never complained to him before about him leaving hickeys, he was worried he’d been doing something you didn’t like and finally pushed you over the edge, “I thought you liked the hickeys” he said
You shook your head ridding him of any worry “I do don’t worry, I mean I hate that I can’t give you hickeys or mark you up like you do me” you pouted
Clark’s lips curled into a smirk, and his eyes darkened “you wanna mark me up honey” he asked teasingly “wanna show everyone who I belong to?”
You hit his chest at his tone “Clark I’m serious” you say.
By now he was full on smiling, “do it” he says, now it was your turn to be confused, you and Clark both knew he couldn’t get a hickey because of his healing “but you can’t-“ won’t hurt to try” he cut you off placing his hands on your hips. You didn’t move, you just sat dumbfounded. “C’mon baby mark me up. I’ll be good I swear” he says pressing fiery kisses to your lips
And that was all the convincing you needed you melted into the kiss with no restraint, you then started to move down to his neck. Kissing all the spots you knew made him tick, you could feel his growing bulge that he was not so subtly rubbing your clothed cunt against
Clark groaned when you started sucking harshly at the spot right below his ear, rubbing your tongue against it “fuck baby, so good markin me all up” he groaned into your ear making you whimper licking across the bruised skin before pulling away just to we the purple mark immediately disappear.
You whined “s’not working Clark” Clark pouted “not workin? Guess we’ll have to try a little harder then huh?” He asked flipping you onto your back and setting himself between your spread legs. Your breath shuddered at the sight of him pulling your shorts and panties down your legs and discarding them on the floor.
His hand moved to your cunt, rubbing a finger through your wet lips, putting on a surprised smile “was gonna go down on you but your already so wet baby, you get that turned on from markin me up?” He asked
You nodded, he didn’t accept that as an answer flicking your clit with his finger “words baby” he says
Your hips buck aging hi hand as you moan “yes Clark, just want everyone to know your mine “ you say.
Clark hums in response “good girl, baby. M’gonna fuck you, s’that okay? You can mark me up as much as you want”
You moan in response, you didn’t even realize he’d taken off his pants and boxers until the head of his cock met your clit, causing your hips to jerk again.
Clark pushed into your tight hole without much of a fight given how wet you were, he stayed still so you could adjust to his size, because somehow you still felt just as tight as the first time the two of you had sex.
“Fuck honey. You’re squeezin’ me. M’not gonna last too long” he says after you give him the green light to move you moan in response to his words, “fuck Clark you feel so good”
“I know baby” he says moving his fingers to your clit, and rubbing in circular motions perfectly pacing it with his deep thrusts.
You flutter around him at the added pleasure, “god- fuck I feels so good, don’t stop please” you beg
Clark smiles at your pleads, leaning down to your face pressing kisses to your lips. The new position helping him to go deeper making your toes curl and your nails come in contact with his back. Scratching deeply, making his hips stutter “that’s right baby mark me all up” he groans into your ear.
Your pussy flutters again at both his praise and the face that you were nearing your end, “faster baby, fuck I’m so close” you rush out in pants.
Clark didn’t need anymore convincing as his pace sped up and so did his fingers on your clit. The pleasure in your stomach was so close to bursting it was almost excruciating.
“Come on baby give it to me, come around my cock honey” Clark whispers Into your ear, with that it burst, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body, you moaned loudly “fuck, yes yes Clark”
The feeling of you fluttering around him sent him over the edge, he shot his warm load into your spasming cunt, groaning gently into your neck, what you hadn’t noticed what him biting your shoulder until you felt the cold air of where his tongue previously was, “god honey” he says pulling out of you.
You smiled up at him “I think we lost the plot” you joked, Clark shrugged giving you a smirk “we could always try again”
— ✦ CW;; 18+ content. SMUT. oral (m. receiving). praise. face fucking. somno (?). clark is a bit aggressive in this, but i personally think it’s hot.
— ✦ THE ONE WHERE… you wake your boyfriend up with a blowjob
— ✦ A/N;; eeeek, first clark fic😜 i’m excited to write my baby!!!
“Claaaark…” you sing-song, slowly walking into his dark bedroom.
He’s laid out on his bed, shirtless. The curtains are drawn, the light from the full moon casting a subtle glow across his toned stomach. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, biting your bottom lip when your eyes fall to his grey sweatpants, finding the hard outline of his dick.
Your mouth waters. You need him, and he’s always said it was okay to wake him up sexually, so…
Slowly, you walk further into his room, reaching his bed and gently running the tips of your fingers across his abs. His stomach tenses under your touch, goosebumps rising on his skin. Your fingers make their way to the waistband of his sweats, dipping inside and pulling them, along with his boxers, down his hips.
A raspy grunt escapes Clark as he shifts, his hips unconsciously lifting so you can bring his sweats and boxers all the way down, exposing his hard, thick cock to you.
You run your fingers over his thick shaft, all the way up to his swollen, soft tip. His dick twitches under your touch, and you bite your bottom lip, biting back a smile.
“Clark, wake up baby…” you whisper, climbing onto the bed and straddling his legs.
Clark groans, his body twisting and twitching as you continue your teasing ‘up and down’ motions with your fingers on his dick. You scoot yourself to the end of the bed, gripping his cock in one hand, gathering saliva in your mouth and spitting down onto the head of his dick. You watch as it runs down from the head to his shaft, stopping and pooling where your hand is gripping him.
You begin to gently stroke him, down to his balls and back up to his head, gently squeezing and stroking at the mushroomed tip. Clark’s eyes spring open, a deep, heated blue staring back at you as you continue teasing him with your hand.
“There he is.” you whisper, leaning your head forward and licking softly at the head.
Clark moans, his hands flying to the back of your head and gripping at your hair softly. You continue to tease his head, licking and sucking at it before pushing more of him into your mouth. You place your eyes back on Clark’s, loving the heated, lust-filled look in his pretty blue eyes.
Clark’s hips push upward, shoving more of his thick cock down your throat, making you gag slightly, tears stinging your eyes. He softly caresses the back of your head, shushing you as he continues to thrust his hips up and down, gently fucking your mouth.
“Shhh, you’re taking me so well, Sweetheart.” Clark rasps, his hips picking up their pace. “Just like that, God I love this mouth.” he grunts, his balls already beginning to tighten.
Drool drips out of the corners of your mouth as Clark fucks your throat, the sounds of your slurps and gags filling the room. Your tongue is poked out, licking at the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. You moan around his cock, the vibrations making Clark groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
His hand in your hair tightens, holding your head still as he shoves his entire cock down your throat, holding himself there. You suck in a deep breath through your nose, tears now spilling uncontrollably down your face as Clark continues to deprive you of air. Your hand begins to tap at his thigh, begging for him to pull back as a ringing fills your ears, black spots clouding your vision.
“Is my little slut tapping out?” Clark mocks, and you mumble nonsense around him, shaking your head as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.
His mocking laugh fills your ears, your vision going black just as you feel thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat. Clark harshly pulls himself from your mouth, releasing your head and making you stumble slightly in your position as you suck in gulps of air. Your bloodshot eyes find Clark, still laid out on his mattress, his chest slick with sweat and heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He gives you that panty-dropping smirk before his tongue swipes across his bottom lip.
“I love when you wake me up with my dick in your mouth,” he breathes out a laugh, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his hard chest. “Now, let’s get some sleep, who knows, you may or may not wake up with my face buried between your legs.”
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES — CLARK KENT
❥ VDAY SPECIAL M.LIST
CONTENT; 18+ content, SMUT. some fluff. public oral sex. office oral sex. oral, fem receiving. fingering.
THE ONE WHERE… you’re stuck at the daily planet on valentine’s day, and clark decides to surprise you with chocolate covered strawberries and dinner… he ends up getting full on something else though.
A/N; CLARKY POO😜😜😜 also, in this, reader doesn’t know that Clark is from Krypton, so yeah, to her he’s just a regular old farm boy right now!
Valentine’s Day.
One of the holidays you’ve grown to love… But only because you met Clark four years ago, and he’s managed to turn Valentine’s Day into something special for you every year since.
Unfortunately, you’re stuck at work, writing up the rough draft of your front-page story for the Daily Planet.
It was a dream come true, one you’d been working your ass off to reach for the last few years. You were grateful to finally have a story worth being put on the front page; this was huge, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed after your editor had said: ‘Good job, kid, there may be a reporter in you yet! Stay back and write up the rough draft. I expect it on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.’
Of course, you gave him a bright smile and agreed. This was your chance to get out of the basement. But inside? Inside you were devastated.
When you had to make the call to Clark and tell him you wouldn’t make it until later than expected, and when he reassured you over and over again that it wasn’t a big deal, you still felt that pang of disappointment in your gut.
Your fingers are flying across your keyboard, typing up the story along with all the quotes you’d gotten. You were trying, and failing, to finish writing this up so you could leave and get to the Kent farm and see Clark, but the side of you that loved your job and was grateful for this opportunity was willing you to slow down and get it right.
Sighing, you pause what you’re doing, readjusting your posture in your chair and grabbing your phone off the desk. The time reads 9:45pm and you can’t help but wonder what Clark is up to. Is he waiting on you at his place? You wonder what he’d had planned for tonight.
“Fix that frown, beautiful.”
Your head snaps up, your wide eyes landing on Clark as he slowly makes his way toward your desk, that pretty smile of his on his lips. When did he get here?
You slowly stand from your chair, head tilting to the side as you eye him. God he was breathtakingly beautiful, the mere sight of him pained you sometimes. You couldn’t believe he was all yours. All six foot three inches of him.
“Clark,” you whisper, walking to meet him in the middle. He stops, that pretty smile of his still on his lips. His baby blues land on you, taking in every inch of you.
“Since you had to work late, I figured I’d bring our date to you. I hope that’s okay.” He says, his hands holding up one large heart-shaped box and the other gripping a brown carry-out bag from your favorite restaurant.
You can’t contain the smile that breaks out on your face. “You didn’t have to do that baby, I know Smallville isn’t close to Metropolis by any means, but I hope you know the gesture is much appreciated.”
Placing your palms on his broad chest, your fingers gripping the material of his tight, white t-shirt, you pull him down, placing your lips against his in a gentle kiss.
Clark breaks his mouth from yours, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, bringing the plump flesh between his teeth before smiling again. “For you, I’d go anywhere at any time,” he pauses, walking past you to set the things he’d brought on the empty desk beside yours. “Besides, I know how much you enjoy this day, and I also know how much this story means to you, so here I am.”
“You’re too good to me, Clark.”
His eyes search yours, his pupils dilating slightly as his eyes travel from your face down to the six-inch heels you have on. Heat rushes through your body, your panties becoming damp just from the heated look in his eye.
You tilt your head, slowly making your way toward where Clark stands. “Why are you looking at me like you want to eat me, Clark?”
He chuckles, the sound rich and deep. He grabs your waist in a tight grip, yanking you towards him, your body now pressed firmly against his. He leans down, running his nose along your cheek as he inhales your scent. “I don’t know,” his nose runs up to your earlobe, stopping before his teeth nip at the skin, sending goosebumps scattering up your arms. “Maybe I do want to eat you right now, ever think of that?”
You laugh, the sound filling the empty room. You look up, meeting Clark’s baby blue eyes. The blue of his eyes has been completely swallowed by the blacks of his pupils. You gulp loudly, biting your bottom lip as you and Clark continue staring at one another.
He raises his brows, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’m not kidding, I came in here hungry,” he pauses, his arms moving from your waist and wrapping underneath your thighs, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, never breaking eye contact as Clark continues. “But I didn’t come in here hungry for food or the expensive chocolate-covered strawberries I’d brought you.”
One of his arms drops, his other now bearing all of your weight, his body effortlessly hiking you back up, his hold on you tightening. His free hand reaches behind you, swiping everything off your desk in one swoop, papers, pens and your computer clattering to the floor.
You gasp, narrowing your eyes on him. “Clark Kent, you’d better pray my computer didn’t just break.”
He laughs, but the sound holds little to no amusement. “I’ll buy you a new one if it did, totally worth what I’m about to do to you.”
His lust-filled eyes find yours as he gently places you down on top of your desk, his hands gripping the hem of your tight pencil skirt and lifting it up your thighs. You lift your hips, letting him bunch the material of your skirt up past your ass, the fabric now bunched up around your waist. He bares your lacey thong to himself, his eyes burning into your wet center, groaning. “Fuck you’re so wet already.”
Clark moves your panties to the side, his free hand reaching forward and running his fingers through your wetness, groaning as he does. Your breath hitches in your throat when his middle finger dips inside you, curling upward before pulling back out again.
“Clark…” you moan, back arching, head thrown back and your fingers white-knuckling your desk as he continues to tease you with his fingers.
“So perfect,” Clark rasps, two fingers shoving deep inside you, curling again, toying with your g-spot.
Clark’s fingers push in and out of you rapidly, the squelching sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you coupled with your loud moans filling the space around you. Your pussy contracts around Clark’s fingers, making him pull them out quickly.
You whine in protest. “Claaaark!”
He smiles, his legs bending as he drops to sit himself in your desk chair. His face leans in, his warm breath fanning on your soaked cunt, the feeling sending shivers up your spine. His lips meet your clit, leaving a soft kiss on the sensitive nub before he pulls back, his palms now gripping your thighs and pulling you further down the desk, your ass now hanging off the edge.
“I’m going to eat this perfect pussy now, okay? Then we can eat and you can finish your story.”
You nod in agreement, your hips wildly bucking up, trying to grind against his face. Clark tuts you, pulling his head farther back, his pretty eyes finding yours from between your legs.
“Calm down, you’ll get what you need, promise.”
You open your mouth to beg, but Clark is burying his face between your legs, your words dying, replaced by a loud, long moan. Your hands fly to his head, fingers gripping at the black strands as his tongue flattens against your pussy, licking you in long, slow strokes.
“Oh, fuck… Clark, that feels—” your words die again, a whimper and curse words falling from your lips instead.
Clark continues to lick and suck at your pussy, his tongue dipping inside you every other stroke of his tongue. He sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking on it relentlessly as two of his fingers make their way back inside your needy pussy.
Your thighs tighten around Clark’s head, your entire body convulsing as Clark sucks at your clit, his fingers brutally pushing in and out of you, pushing you closer to the edge.
“Oh Clark, don’t stop, keep going…” you beg, trying to grind your pussy against his face.
Clark’s grip on your thighs tightens, holding you completely still, leaving you at his mercy. He releases your clit with a messy pop, his fingers slowing their pace. His head lifts, those pretty blues on yours as he says, “Come on my face, baby, let go for me.”
His head goes between your legs again, his mouth back on your pussy. He devours you, his tongue licking you and pressing into you as his fingers push in and out rapidly again. Your pussy clenches around Clark’s fingers, that euphoric feeling burning in your lower belly and wrapping around you entirely. Clark sucks your clit into his mouth once more, sucking gently as his fingers curl up, toying with your g-spot and finally pushing you over the edge.
Your entire body explodes, bright white light blinding behind your eyes as you come all over Clark’s face and fingers. Clark doesn’t let up, even after your orgasm subsides he keeps going, eating you like the world is ending and you’re his last meal.
You shove at his head, whining from the overstimulation you feel between your legs now.
“Clark… Too much, please?” you beg, and he finally comes up from between your legs.
His face is shining with your arousal, that perfect fucking smile on his face again. He places a kiss on your inner thigh before pushing himself back in your chair. He puts your panties back in place before helping you stand and pulling your skirt back down.
Dipping his head down, he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his mouth and tongue. Finally pulling away, he begins picking up all of the stuff he’d shoved off your desk.
“You hungry?” he asks, continuing to grab papers, pens and everything else off the ground, placing it back on your desk.
You smile. “Starved, but uh..” you pause, your eyes trialing down to the hard-on he’s sporting, the outline prominent through his jeans.
Clark readjusts himself in his jeans, clearing his throat before responding. “No, it’s fine, we’ll eat, then you finish the story and I’ll take you home and have my way with you all night in my bed.”
The smile on your face makes your cheeks hurt. You nod your head, walking toward the empty desk that has the food and chocolate-covered strawberries sitting on it.
“Sounds good to me. So, what’d my handsome man bring us to eat?”
You’d started the night cocky.
Literally.
Because after months of hearing Clark’s quiet bragging about “holding back” and “taking it easy” with you, you’d decided tonight was the night you proved he wasn’t that much better than a human man.
Mistake number one.
“Four rounds,” you’d panted into his neck after the third, riding the adrenaline high of thinking you’d actually worn him down. “Bet you can’t go five.”
Mistake number two.
Now it’s hours later. Your skin is slick, your hair is a disaster, and your voice is hoarse from begging and swearing and—God—crying out his name so many times you’re pretty sure the neighbors think you’re filming a porn.
He’s not even sweating.
In fact, he’s grinning. Grinning. Like the smugest farm boy in the galaxy, holding you in place with one arm around your lower back while the other hand braces his weight over you.
“One more, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice all honey and sin. “You can take one more.”
“Clark—” Your voice cracks, half pleading half pleading him to continue. “You—” You cut yourself off to gasp when his hips roll. “You—smug—overpowered—alien—”
“Mhm,” he hums, utterly unbothered, like you’re not writhing beneath him. “And you love it.”
warnings: smut ofc! cheating, dirty talk, married!ck, clark is sort of mean :(, and intercourse.
Smallville!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader
14 days of fucking valentine's!- day 1!
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With my parents out of town, I was currently in charge of the farm. Our next door neighbors were the Kent’s, they’ve lived there since before I was even born. But Clark was now in charge of the Kent farm, Johnathan Kent passed a while back and Martha Kent moved to Washington D.C. Clark and I are only 22, he’s married to Lana Lang now. I didn’t really know much about them, I had very few interactions with them in high school.
But Lana was out of town at the moment, I ran into her at the farmer’s market yesterday and she was telling me about her business she owned in Metropolis and how she had to go and take care of it.
I was in my kitchen trying to make these strawberry shortcake cookies but I realized I forgot some ingredients. The sugar and the flour. I groaned to myself as I tried to look around in the cabinets to see if maybe I just wasn’t seeing it but there was nothing. I could go to the market real quick..but that’s a 20 minute drive and it’s already 6:50 and the market closes at 7:00. I guess I could go next door and ask Clark.
I’ve never really spoken to Clark a lot so it was always awkward when I saw him. But I made it up to his porch and knocked on the front door. “Coming!” His voice rang from inside the house. As I was waiting for him to open the door I noticed my attire..I probably shouldn’t be dressed like this when seeing a married man by himself. Then again it is hot outside though. I was dressed in some really short jean shorts, cowgirl boots, and a white tank top.
The door eventually opened and I was met with Clark, he was always so tall, like a giant among the rest of us. He had on a plain blue shirt, jeans, and socks on. He looked comfortable. He gave me a friendly smile before greeting me. “Hey, Y/N! what can I do for ‘ya?” He asked with one hand on his hip on the door. I know I never really talked to the man, but I always thought he was cute. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, he was tall, muscular, and his teeth were pearly white.
“Uh-Hey Clark! I just came by to see if you had some flour and sugar? I was about to start on a batch of cookies but realized I didn’t have the flour or sugar..” I nervously said as I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, of course! Come on in.” He cheerfully said before I smiled at him and walked inside as he closed the door behind me. He then led me into the kitchen and I decided to make small talk.
“So how’s the farm been? Seems like you’ve been doing a good job with keeping it running.” I questioned while he was grabbing a giant jar of flour from the cabinet. Clark shrugged his shoulders before answering me. “I guess you could say that..it’s just stressful at times managing this all by myself.” He started off as I hummed so he knew I was listening. “When pa was alive he had ma to help him with stuff, he never ran the farm alone.” He finished as he grabbed a spoon to scoop the flour. His statement made my brows lift. Lana doesn’t help him? I didn’t wanna pry but I was just curious.
“Your wife doesn’t help?” I asked with a tilt to my head. I probably could’ve worded that better, it did come out a bit disrespectful. He let out a laugh but it didn’t sound like he was amused, more so agitated? “Not one bit..too focused on buying designer clothes and running her business.” He responded. His tone changed, way darker than the tone he had when I walked into his house a couple of minutes ago. My intentions weren’t to bad mouth Lana..but oh well.
It went silent for a bit while Clark was now grabbing the bag of sugar and pouring some into a mason jar for me. “Clark.” I said as he looked up at me. “If you ever need help, you can always ask me. It’s not like I’m doing much at my parent’s farm anyways.” I chuckled. I guess we’re over that awkward stage. He flashed his pearly white fangs at me and I felt something flutter in my stomach. Why am I feeling this way about a married man?
“I’d appreciate that very much, Y/N.” He softly thanked me. Another flutter appeared in my stomach. Why am I feeling this way? I get it, Clark’s attractive but he’s married! Clark eventually handed me the jars of sugar and flour and I was about to be on my way but his voice made me stop and turn. “Why don’t you stick around for a bit? We can get to know each other over the cookies you were about to make.” He suggested. His tone was friendly but deep. It turned me on for some reason. I slightly turned my body and could see that his eyes were already staring at my ass.
It made me smirk and turn all the way around to get a good look at him.
“Yeah..get to know each other.” I softly repeated.
…
We definitely got to know each other, alright. I was on all fours on his dinning table, naked and spread out for him all to see. His jeans were to his ankles as he was roughly pounding into me from behind. His shirt was still on and I used it as something to steady me, pulling on it from behind as he fucked me. “So fucking tight!” He breathlessly said as he placed a smack to my ass. My eyes rolled to the back of my head before letting out a moan. “Clark!” I moaned. His thrusts quickened. I’ve never been fucked like this before.
I know this was wrong, he has a wife, but fuck did he feel good. The way his thick cock stretched me out when he first went in. The way his giant rough hands arched my back and slapped my ass. “Fuck, this is better than Lana!” He praised as he threw his head back. His compliment made my pussy flutter around him. “I know, baby.” I moaned back. I could feel his hips roll into me which made me even more loud. “I could’ve been fucked this pussy-lived next door to me for years and I’m just now fucking you.” Clark grunted as I let out a giggle in response. “That’s funny to you? Me missing out on good pussy?” He snapped with another smack to my ass.
“I’m sorry!” I whined. Clark suddenly pulled out of me and man handled me until I was flat on my back. A gasp fell out of my mouth at how quickly he shoved himself back into my sopping wet pussy. Our eyes squeezed shut at the same time. His dick was hitting spots that no man before has ever done to me. “Look at you creamin’ all over my cock.” He spat. His breath was hot on my neck. I swallowed-voice barely steady. “You’re so big!” He darkly chuckled in response. “ I know..can’t wait to see you cum all over my dick.” He cockily stated.
My legs were aching, the feeling in my stomach was building up, desperate to finish on him. I was so eager for him I started digging my nails in his back, he let out a quiet moan at the touch. His giant hand was now wrapped around my throat as fucked into me. “Look at you..creamin’ all over a married man’s dick.” He darkly said. I whimpered at his hurtful words. “What would you do if my wife walked in on us, huh? You gonna scramble to put your clothes or you gonna’ finish on cock?” Clark teasingly asked. My mouth was open but I couldn’t speak. My mouth was dry-speechless. I have no answer, no excuse for fucking him.
“Dick so good you can’t even answer.” He chuckled while thrusting into me. My back was arching off from the table as one of his hands was still wrapped around my throat. He lifted his other hand for me to see. “See this?” He started off, showing his finger that had his wedding ring on as I nodded my head. “Fuck her and fuck that marriage.” Clark grumbled before using his ring finger to rub on my clit as he was still fucking into me. “Oh shit!” I said to myself. He smirked at my reaction and that’s when I lost it.
My legs locked around his waist and my nails dug into his back. My juices were spraying onto his wedding ring, and his dick after he had pulled out of me and let my juices rain on it. His hand let go of my throat as he went to place kisses all over my neck. “Did so good f’me.” He softly praised as I whimpered. My body was still sensitive after my orgasm. Clark pulled away from me and sucked some air when he saw my sopping pussy and my juices all over the table. “Made a big mess.” He grinned as I covered my face in embarrassment. “Don’t be shy.” He stated while pulling my hands away as I groaned.
“I guess I gotta clean it all up..” He seductively says before dropping to his knees and licking some of my juices off the table. Our eye contact was intense as he was between my legs licking the juices up from the table. His tongue swirling around and making long licks. I was getting even more wet than before. I couldn’t take the teasing anymore.
“No one likes a tease.” I said with a roll to my eyes as I pushed his head into my cunt.
The key in the lock was a clumsy, fumbling sound. Clark looked up from the laptop that he was typing away with on the couch, a small smile touching his lips. He heard you before you could even make it to the door.
“You will not believe the day I've had,” you announce, dropping your bag by the door with a thud.
Clark was already on his feet, his super-senses, taking a quick involuntary check over your body. No blood, no injuries. Just the familiar, comforting scent that was uniquely you—and something else. Something faintly floral, almost like a honeysuckle.
That was new.
“What happened?” He asked, his voice a steady, grounding rumble that immediately began to calm your frayed nerves. He crossed the room in two easy strides.
You tried to think of the best way to tell him this without him freaking out immediately.
“Remember the new botanical hybridization project. The one I was really excited about? Well, we were extracting volatile compounds from a new species of orchid LuthorCorp imported. And there was a slight… containment breach. Just a tiny one. My vial shattered and released a compound all over me.”
Worry immediately seeped into Clark’s veins, cold and sharp. LuthorCorp and new, unknown botanicals were a combination that just couldn’t end well.
He already didn’t trust Lex, let alone you working for him. But you were happy with your new job, fulfilled in a way he’d never seen you before you landed the position. Being a scientist was your dream, and he would never try and take that from you, even if it meant biting his tongue every time you mentioned your bald and utterly sinister boss.
“Are you okay? Did you get checked out?” Clark pressed, his brow furrowing. His hands came up, hovering just inches from your arms, as if afraid to touch you before he had a full diagnostic.
“Of course,” you said, placing a soft, reassuring kiss on his cheek to ease him. “I’m fine, physically. Decontaminated thoroughly. The on-site medic gave me a full once-over. It's just… we have no long-term data on this compound. The initial bio-assays were inconclusive. It could be perfectly inert, or it could… I don't know. Make my hair fall out. Turn my skin blue. Any other side effects are still unknown.”
You looked at him directly, your expression turning serious, and a little vulnerable. “Thats why I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he replied with no hesitation, his blue eyes utterly sincere.
“Watch me tonight. Just… be extra observant. If I do anything, say anything, that feels even a little bit off, you tell me. My own perception might be the first thing to go. You’re my baseline, Clark. You’re the one person who would know if I wasn’t… me.”
He moved to you, cupping your face in his large, warm hands. He felt your skin was fever-warm, a few degrees above your normal temperature. "I'll watch you. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen to you on my watch.” His thumbs stroked gently over your cheekbones.
You leaned into his touch with a relieved sigh, then placed a soft kiss to his palm when you pulled away. “Thank you. Now, I'm going to take a shower and try and wash this day off of me. I still smell like the lab.”
Clark watched you retreat. He focused on the beat of your heart. It was faster than usual, but that could be attributed to the stress of the day. Still, he remained on the couch, his work forgotten, now replaced with a more important task.
Making sure the love of his life was okay.
When you finally emerged, half an hour later, wrapped in soft pajamas with your hair damp and smelling of your favorite body wash, you curled right into his side on the couch.
“Now tell me about your day,” you insisted, hoping for a distraction to take your mind off of the potential side effects that might hit at any time. You nestled into the crook of his arm, breathing in his scent.
Clark smiled softly, the worry in his eyes momentarily replaced with affection. “Well, nowhere near as interesting or potentially dangerous as yours. Just starting a new assignment with Lois. Jimmy and I tried that new sandwich spot by the office. The one I was telling you about. The sandwich was good, but mostly condiments.” He recalled. “Also, I helped a cat out of a tree today. A very stubborn, very ungrateful cat.”
At some point during his rundown of the day, you had started to zone out, not out of disinterest or boredom of course, but because you suddenly felt awfully… warm.
The comfortable weight of his arm around you, which usually felt like a shield, now felt like a furnace. A delicious, distracting furnace. You shifted, trying to create a little space, but the movement only pressed you more firmly against the solid muscle of his thigh.
Why was it so hot all of a sudden? You tugged at the collar of your pajama top.
“—and then Perry—” Clark stopped, his sentence cutting off abruptly. He looked down at you, his head tilted. “Your heart rate just spiked. Are you still feeling alright?”
His voice was laced with that specific brand of Clark Kent concern, the one that made your chest ache with affection. But right now, the ache was different. It was moving, coiling deep in your belly, a hot and heavy thrum that was growing more insistent by the second and pooling right at your core.
“It's… it's nothing. Just a little flushed from the shower, I think. And thinking about the side effects again.” It was a lie. The shower had been over an hour ago now. This was definitely way different.
Clark was unconvinced.
You tried to play it off but you began to feel it much more now. The throbbing ache that had taken control between your thighs. You squirmed restlessly and swallowed, your throat dry.
Oh gosh. Please don’t be what you think it is.
Clark’s eyes, usually so warm and open, were now narrowed in that focused, X-ray vision sort of way, though you knew he would never use it on you without permission. He was just looking, really looking.
“Your temperature has risen two full degrees since you sat down,” he stated, his voice low and clinical. "And your pupils are dilated. And gosh sweetheart, you're squirming a lot."
You tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a breathy, shaky thing. “See? This is why I need you. My own personal bio-scanner. My Superman." You meant it as a joke, but the words hung in the air.
His hand, which had been resting on your shoulder, moved to your forehead, checking for fever the old-fashioned way.
The contact sent a sharp, undeniable throb straight to your cunt, so intense you couldn't suppress a sharp, quiet gasp. You could feel every microscopic ridge of his fingerprints, the small calluses earned from saving the world, and all your brain could supply was a frantic, single-minded thought: How good would those hands feel somewhere else?
Clark froze. “Sweetheart, you’re burning up.”
Your mind, usually a fortress of logic and reason, was being flooded with a primal, animalistic fog. Nothing Clark was saying seemed to matter anymore. The only thing that registered was the scent of him, the solid feel of him, and all the previous memories of his body moving over yours in the dark.
You needed him. Desperately.
You tried to swallow down the whimper rising in your throat. “It’s fine,” you managed. “I’m fine—” but your voice cracked, breathy and trembling.
The faint, floral scent you'd brought home with you seemed to be emanating from your own pores now, intensified by the heat of your body. It was clear now what the compound was that affected you. Sex pollen, lovely.
As a highly skilled scientist yourself, you knew all about sex pollen, including how rare it was, and most especially how strong the effects could be. You didn’t know the exact strain that you had been exposed to, but in general sex pollen’s effect could last for hours after exposure. Not to mention the seemingly insatiable need it could create. And left unresolved, could be potentially dangerous for your bodies nervous system that was being overwhelmed with foreign chemicals.
Your scientific mind, the part that was still clinging to reason, screamed in frustration. Of all the possible side effects—a rash, temporary paralysis, hallucinations—it had to be this.
Sex pollen. And of all the people to be with… it was Clark. Your sweet, kind, impossibly moral boyfriend Clark.
You didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing yet.
If you were alone, you could probably stick out the heat on your own with some toys and a locked door. You could ride out the humiliating, frantic need in private.
But here with Clark, he was about to see a completely desperate and horny side that even you hadn’t seen before. And he would want to help—of course he would—but, knowing him, he also wouldn't want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. He would see it as a violation of your consent, or an impairment of your judgment.
Hell, you two have only been dating for like six months, is that even enough time for your significant other to fuck you under the influence of heavy sex drugs?
God, you thought, you really don't want him to see how pathetic you were about to become.
And by your mental estimates of how long the pollen took to kick in after exposure, you likely only had about five minutes before you became full-blown, mindlessly needy. Your panties were already a soaking mess.
“It’s not fine,” Clark said, his voice strained.
He could hear the frantic, rabbit-quick pace of your heart. He could smell the intoxicating, sweet scent that was pouring off your skin, a scent that was now making his own head feel light.
And he could definitely smell the slick, unmistakable scent of your arousal building in between your legs. It was a scent he knew, one he loved, but now it was magnified. A potent, pheromonal broadcast that was scrambling his own higher brain functions.
“Sweetheart… why are you, your body is going into…” He paused, trying to think of a way to tell you that he could smell your arousal and recognized all the familiar signs of you being turned on. “You are very turned on right now.”
You whimpered hearing him vocalize the humiliating, undeniable truth. Your body, betraying you completely, pressed back against him, closer than before, your hips giving an involuntary, tiny roll against his thigh. The friction was a spark on gasoline, instantly satisfying and yet deepening the ache exponentially.
“Clark…” you breathed, your hand coming up to clutch at the soft cotton of his shirt, fisting the material. “I… I think I know what it is. What I got contaminated with earlier..”
Clark’s eyes met yours. He seemed to know too.
Maybe not know exactly what, but he was smart enough to piece together the clues, especially since you can’t seem to stop trying to grind against him.
“A sex pollen,” you told him, the words feeling absurd and terrifying as they left your lips. “A… a powerful strain it seems, one with a delayed response, likely to have a long lasting effect.” You forced your voice to be clinical, to cling to the last vestiges of your professionalism and sanity. “Left unresolved, the neurological overload can cause… physiological damage.”
Your eyes raked over him as he took in the information, but you found yourself getting distracted.
The pollen’s influence seemed to have you zeroing in on every single detail you loved about Clark. One detail in particular: his size.
Clark Kent was a big man, tall and broad, 6'4, all solid muscle. But now, that awareness has become your current hyper-fixation. The width of his shoulders, the thickness of his thighs. Your gaze dropped to the growing bulge in his jeans, and a fresh wave of desperate lust washed over you, so intense it made you dizzy.
You couldn’t help it anymore. The ache and desire for him was too much and you desperately needed relief.
“God, Clark,” you moaned, the words slipping out. “You’re so… big. Look at you. How are you so… much? I need you… I need to feel all of that. I need you inside of me, right now. Please Clark.”
The plea was raw and stripped of all your pride. Your hand left his shirt and slid down, palming the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans. He jerked at the contact, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.
“Whoa, easy there sweetheart,” he said, his voice gravelly, catching your wrist gently but firmly. His own control was fraying, the scent of you, the feel of your small hand on him, the sight of your dilated pupils and flushed skin was a test of willpower he’d never imagined. “We can’t. Not like this. You’re not in your right mind.”
The rejection was painful, your eyes welling up with tears immediately and a loud obnoxious whine coming out.
“You’re saying no to me?” Your lower lip trembled, “I’m your girlfriend, we’ve done this before, it’s no different.”
“It is different,” Clark ground out, his jaw so tight it looked like it might crack. The hand around your wrist was trembling. “It-it’s completely different. You're not you. This isn't your choice; it's just the pollen talking. Maybe I can take you to the doctor’s or-”
“It's my body!” you cried out interrupting his useless suggestions, surging forward, pressing your heated skin against his chest. The contact only made the deeper, gnawing emptiness worse. “And it's screaming for you. Clark, please. It hurts.” You ground your hips against his thigh again, a frantic, desperate motion. “You promised nothing bad would happen to me. This… this ache… it feels so bad. You have to make it stop.”
That seemed to strike a chord.
You could see the conflict ravaging him. His superheroic resolve, the very core of his morality, was crumbling under the assault of your desperate pleas and the intoxicating, pheromones you were producing in the air.
“I can't… I can't take advantage of you like this,” he whispered, but it was a weak protest.
“You're not Clark,” you begged, your voice breaking as you framed his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You're saving me. You're my hero, remember? So save me from this. Please, Clark. I need you inside me. I need to feel you, all of you, or I think I'm going to like…die.”
Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic on your end, but truly it's what it felt like.
And Clark’s moral dilemma was being less than helpful at the moment. Why couldn’t he just not be a gentleman for once and fuck you into tomorrow like you needed.
“Sweetheart…”
You ignored him, and started placing kisses on his jaw and neck to try and satisfy your need. It helped, but nowhere near enough. You moved lower but Clark snapped out of it again and pushed you back softly.
There was not a single sane thought in your head anymore, you just needed to be filled, and Clark’s denial was making you angrier by the second.
“Clark!” you huffed at him, “Please don’t make me beg for this.”
“I’m not trying to make you beg… I just,” Clark starts shaking his head.
“You are though!” you whined back, “And I don’t want to, but I will, because that’s how badly I need this. Please Clark, I don't want to ask again, you have to make it stop.”
Clark swallowed heavily, and nodded hesitantly. He hated seeing you in pain like this.
“Okay, um alright, but if we do this, it’s on my terms. I need to know you’re still in there, sweetheart okay?”
You nod embarrassingly fast, “Okay, okay, your terms. Just... hurry, please.”
Clark didn't need to be told twice. He pulled you towards him, his fingers trailing up and down the sides of you and paused when he felt you shudder into him.
“Gosh, you’re… you’re so sensitive,” he breathed, more to himself than to you. His gaze was locked on his own thumb, which now rested motionless against the frantic pulse in your wrist.
Hesitantly, he moved one hand. Clark released your wrist, his fingers trailing up your arm, over the soft skin of your inner elbow. The touch was feather-light but you jolted as if electrocuted, a full-body shudder wracking your frame.
“Oh, god,” you moaned, your head falling back. “Clark, please.”
Clark made a sound deep in his throat, a mix of sympathy and sheer, unadulterated want. He was cataloging your reactions, learning the map of your sensitivity without even meaning to.
His fingertips drifted higher, skating over the slope of your shoulder, and your back arched, pressing your breasts against the solid wall of his chest. The friction of your nipples, already hard and aching, against his shirt was equally satisfying and utterly insufficient.
“Does that…” he swallowed hard, his own breathing becoming labored. “Does it feel like this everywhere?”
You could only nod, desperate tears pricking your eyes again. He was touching you, but it wasn't where you needed it. It was like being given a single drop of water in a desert.
God why did he keep teasing you so much?
“Okay,” he whispered, the word a ragged breath against your temple. His hands, which had been wandering with curiosity, suddenly changed their intent.
The hesitant exploration was gone, replaced by a firm, deliberate purpose. He had to give you what you needed.
One large hand splayed against the small of your back, anchoring you to him, while the other slid down, over the desperate, aching curve of your hip.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice thick with a restraint that was visibly fraying. He was giving you one last out, a final thread of chivalry to cling to.
“It won’t be enough,” you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders. “It could never be too much.”
With a groan that seemed to be torn from the very core of him, Clark finally, finally closed the last remaining distance. His hand cupped your pussy through your clothes, a firm, perfect pressure that made you cry out.
“How does it feel here?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your neck as he applied a slow, circular pressure.
“Yes! Clark, yes,” You almost buckled finally feeling the friction that your body has been begging for so long.
“I know, I know, sweetheart, I got you. Finally going to give you what you need okay?”
He shifted you both, lowering you back onto the soft cushions of the couch without ever breaking the contact. His knees nudged yours apart, settling between them, and the new, intimate proximity sent a fresh, violent shudder through you.
His thumb found the damp, heated center of you again, rubbing a relentless, rhythmic pattern that had you bucking against his hand. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain.
“You’re so responsive like this,” he breathed, his eyes dark, his pupils blown wide with awe and desire. “Every little touch… gosh, I can feel you everywhere.”
His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Look at me, sweetheart. I need to see you.”
You forced your eyes open, meeting his. He descended, his mouth finally capturing yours in a kiss that was nothing like his usual tender caresses. This was all-consuming, a desperate fusion of lips and tongue that stole the breath from your lungs. It was hot and wet and messy, and everything you needed.
The soft cotton of your pajamas was an intolerable barrier at this point.
You heard a faint rip as he tore the top apart, buttons pinging against the wall. The sound should have shocked you, but it only sent another violent throb of need through you.
His large, warm hands covered your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples with a rough, delicious friction that made you cry out against his mouth.
“So beautiful. I can feel your heart beating against my lips.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and lust as he moved his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at the frantic pulse there.
Clark broke the kiss apart to slide your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so, so deep.
“There she is, that pretty pussy,” he cooed. “Gosh, you're so wet. So ready for me, hm?”
You clung even harder to him, nails curling against the back of his neck into his soft curls as you clenched onto his fingers. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening and utterly torturous.
“Already a dripping mess and I’ve hardly even touched you.” Clark tsks, slipping in another finger and continuing to pump into you.
“Clark, please,” you sobbed, your hips trying to match his rhythm, to force a faster pace. “More. I need more. It’s not enough.”
“Shhh, I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, placing a hand on your hips to keep them where he wanted. “I just need to get you ready to take me. I’m a little bigger, remember?”
Those words seemed to remind you of all the times you were intimate before, and how long he would take prepping you for him because he wasn’t just ‘a little’ bigger than most.
He was fucking huge.
You nod pathetically and let him continue stretching him out. The familiar coil crept in your lower belly and signaled that your release was close. Clark felt it and pushed you to your edge.
The lewd sounds coming from his hand assaulting your wet cunt went straight to your pollen-hazed mind and pushed you right over that tipping point. Your legs were shaking, and you were a moaning mess as you came on his hand.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Clark encouraged, “I got you.”
You were breathless and still shaking slightly as you finished coming undone on his hand. Clark brushed away your damp front strands of hair and kissed the side of your head tenderly.
His eyes scanned yours, hoping to see if the orgasm was enough to stop the sex pollen haze. But you knew this was far from over. In fact the first orgasm had only cranked up the notch on the pain and worsened the ache. The momentary relief was a cruel trick, and the emptiness that followed was a thousand times more acute.
Clark’s hopeful expression shattered as fresh, frustrated tears spilled from your eyes.
You shook your head, a frantic, desperate motion urging him to continue. “No,” you choked out, your voice raw. “It’s worse. It’s so much worse now. Clark, please, I need you. I need your cock now. Please.”
He nodded and withdrew his fingers, and you whimpered at the loss, but he was already fumbling with his own pants. The sound of his zipper was the most promising thing you’d ever heard.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, but he wasn’t apologizing for what was about to happen. He was apologizing for what had already passed. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, never breaking eye contact, and sucked them clean with a dark, appreciative hum. “God, you taste perfect.”
He leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, his face inches from yours.
“I’m sorry for teasing you for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky. “That wasn’t really nice of me, was it? Letting you suffer like that.” He nudged your nose with his, a gesture that was somehow both tender and utterly dominant. “Gosh, I’ve been such a jerk to my girl, haven’t I? Making my sweetheart beg when all she needed was for me to take care of her.”
You whine loudly.
“Sh-shh, I’m going to give you everything you need, now. I’m going to make up for it. But you have to be a good girl for me and take it, okay? You have to take all of me.”
The words sent a jolt of pure lightning through your system. You nodded frantically, your eyes wide and pleading. “I will, I promise, I’ll be so good. Just fuck me already.”
In a swift, powerful motion, he freed himself, and your breath hitched. Even in your fevered state, the sight of him, thick and heavy and straining and big, sent a fresh wave of dizzying anticipation through you. He was magnificent and internally you screamed yes, yes, yes.
He settled between your thighs again, which fell open for him willingly and desperately. The broad head of his cock nudged against your soaked, aching entrance. You were slick and ready, your body having prepared itself for him with humiliating, eager efficiency.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his large cock nudging against your slick, heated flesh. He didn’t push in, just rested there, letting you feel the immense pressure, the promise of being filled.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he commanded softly again, his gaze locking with yours, holding you captive. Then, with a single, devastatingly slow roll of his hips, he began to sink into you.
A choked, guttural cry of pleasure was torn from your throat. The stretch was a perfect, burning fullness that your pollen-addled body had been screaming for.
He was so big, so impossibly much, and he was filling you so completely it stole the air from your lungs.
“Oh, god… Clark… yes, thank you,” You panted, your head thrashing against the cushions. “Feels so good, ‘ngh so big.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. He stilled, buried to the hilt, letting your body adjust to the overwhelming sensation. “There you go. Taking me so perfectly. Look at you, sweetheart. So beautiful, so open for me. Just for me.”
He began to move, a slow, deep, punishing rhythm that he knew would drive you insane. Each stroke dragged against that deep, frantic ache, feeding the fire higher.
“You feel that?” he breathed into your ear, his hips setting a relentless pace. “That’s me. All of me. Filling up that pretty, desperate little pussy of yours. Is this what you needed? Hm? This deep, aching fullness?”
“Yes! Yes, Clark, don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you babbled, your hands scrambling over his back, trying to pull him closer, deeper.
“I’m not going to stop,” he promised, a dark, possessive edge to his voice. “I’m going to get you through this heat, sweetheart. You’re gonna be alright, I got you.”
His words were as potent as his touch, filthy and sweet that pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He shifted his angle slightly, and on the next thrust, he hit a spot that made you see stars.
You screamed, your back arching violently. He only quickened his pace, his hips now snapping into you mercilessly.
You knew he was holding back, a tiny, rational part of his mind ensuring he didn't accidentally break you, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like he was trying to split you apart on his length.
And god did you love it.
This climax seized you with a violence that dwarfed the first. It was a raw, screaming release that left you boneless and gasping, your vision spotting at the edges. Clark followed you over, his own groan a deep, guttural sound as he spilled himself inside you, his hips stuttering against yours in a final thrust.
For a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing mingling with his. He was heavy on top of you and he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, reverent kisses against your damp skin.
“You feelin’ better?” he panted, his voice rough with exertion. “It’s over, sweetheart, you’re alright now.”
He started to pull away, to check your eyes, but a fresh, sharp throb of emptiness made you clutch at him, a broken whimper escaping your lips. The relief had been even more fleeting this time. The ache was back, deeper and more insistent than before, a hollow, gnawing pain that had you squeezing your eyes shut against a new wave of hot, frustrated tears.
Clark froze. He cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “No?” he asked, his voice laced with dawning concern. “It’s not?”
You shook your head, the tears spilling over. “It’s… it’s worse,” you sobbed, the words hitching. “It just comes back faster. It hurts, Clark. It really hurts. I need more.”
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, his expression shifting. He withdrew from you gently, and you cried out at the sudden, aching emptiness. In one smooth, powerful motion, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The world blurred as he carried you from the living room to the bedroom, laying you down on the cool sheets with infinite care.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, brushing the hair from your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll do this as many times as it takes. I promise.”
He wiped away the tears that had fallen and you nodded gratefully.
“How long is this supposed to last again?” Clark asked you.
“Really long,” you said.“Hours”
Clark simply nodded. He didn’t dare remind you that so far it had already been longer than any previous times you’ve been intimate before.
You could see the calculation in his eyes, the acceptance of the marathon ahead. He was Superman. He had the stamina. He would see this through.
You cried out again, the pain a sharp, twisting knot in your core. “Please, make it stop. Just for a minute. Please. One more time, Clark.”
Clark’s jaw tightened. He nodded, his gaze darkening with a new kind of determination. “Alright. Let me try something else.”
He moved down the bed, settling between your trembling thighs. His hands were firm on your hips, holding you still. Then he lowered his head.
The first swipe of his tongue was a bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure. You jolted, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. It was different from his fingers, different from his cock. It was an intimate assault on your senses, and he was ruthlessly efficient. He licked and sucked, already having the rhythm that made you shatter the fastest memorized.
Clark was relentless, holding you down as you thrashed, his name a broken mantra on your lips. The orgasm was swifter and brutal, and left you gasping once more.
As the last tremor faded, he was already moving up your body, his lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. He tapped your cheek gently. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart. How you doin’? Are you with me?”
You blinked, trying to focus. The haze was still there, the ache already beginning to coil deep within. “It’s… still there,” you whispered, fresh new tears falling down your face.
He nodded, a grim set to his mouth. “Okay. Okay, that’s okay. I’ve still got you.”
He rolled you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until you were on your knees. He entered you from behind in one smooth, deep thrust, and you screamed into the mattress. This position was deeper, more animalistic, and secretly your fave.
Clark gripped your hips, his fingers sure to leave bruises, and set a punishing rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by your sobbing pleas and his guttural groans.
He was chasing your release with a single-minded focus, driving into you as if he could physically exorcise the pollen from your body himself.
When you came this time, it was a silent, shuddering collapse, your body going limp beneath his.
He pulled out, turning you onto your back once more. He was breathing heavily, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. He tapped your cheek again. “Talk to me sweetheart.”
You could only manage a weak, negative shake of your head. The desperate, achey feeling was returning. Again.
A low growl rumbled in Clark’s chest. It wasn’t one of frustration with you, but with the situation, with the pollen in your body. His eyes glowed with a faint, red ember of heat vision he quickly suppressed.
“Shh, that’s alright,” Clark reassured you, noticing your panicked expression. He smiled and leaned down to kiss you passionately, “You’re doing perfect, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Clark,” you whispered to him, “You’re too good to me. Fucking me so well.”
“I love you too,” Clark says back softly.
Gosh, he felt so bad for you. As much as tried, he couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in right now, especially because it seemed never-ending. So he did the only thing he could to help you.
He flipped you onto your back again, but this time he hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half. The penetration was so deep it stole your breath. He leaned over you, bracing himself on his arms and stilled, letting your re-adjust to his size.
“Please, move,” you begged, your hips fucking up into his.
“I will, sweetheart, just relax. Let me help you out.”
Clark started to move in a merciless, piston-like rhythm, each thrust jolting through your entire body. He was no longer just making love to you or even just fucking you; he was waging a war against the pollen inside you.
He drove into you again and again, his pace never flagging, his strength infinite. He was pushing you, and himself, to the absolute limit, determined to fuck the pollen out of your system through sheer, relentless will.
Clark eventually lost track of time.
He lost track of how many times he brought you to a screaming, sobbing climax. The bedroom became a blur of tangled sheets and shifting positions.
He took you on your side, one of your legs hooked high over his hip, his mouth on your shoulder. He laid you on your stomach and draped himself over your back, whispering praises into your ear as he moved inside you. He sat back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest, his hands roaming your body as you rode him, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Through it all, he never stopped talking.
“That’s it, sweetheart, take me. You’re taking all of me so well. God, you feel incredible.”
“Come on, baby, one more for me. I know you can do it. Squeeze that pretty pussy around my cock and let go. I’ve got you.”
“Look at you. Look how beautiful you are falling apart on me. My good girl. My perfect, desperate girl.”
You were beyond words, reduced to a state of pure, sensation-driven need. Your legs felt like water, your entire body trembled with exhaustion. But the deep, gnawing ache, while muted by the constant onslaught of pleasure, never fully disappeared. It was a ghost that was waiting for the briefest respite to return with a vengeance.
During a brief lull, as he held you close, his slick skin pressed against yours, you felt him tense. He was looking down at you, his brow furrowed with a concern that cut through the sexual haze.
“Golly, sweetheart,” he breathed, his hand gently tracing the curve of your hip. “You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. I’m… I’m putting you through so much.” He sounded genuinely pained and remorseful, the protectiveness in him agonizing over the very remedy he was providing.
You managed to shake your head, nuzzling into his neck. “Worth it,” you slurred. “Don’t stop.”
He kissed your forehead, a long, tender press of his lips. “I won’t. I promise I won’t until you feel better. But you…” He pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of a fierce, awed pride. “You’re being so strong. You’re taking me so well, for so long. Even after all that begging, you’re just… enduring. You’re amazing.”
He was praising you for your stamina, for your ability to withstand the very storm he was unleashing upon you. It was absurd and utterly intoxicating.
He pulled you into his lap facing him. “Go on, I know you’re not done with me yet. Take what you need,” he commanded.
And you did.
You smiled, then sunk onto his length and rode him.
You ignored the pain in your legs and chased the high that seemed to never be fulfilled. As you did, you kissed Clark. You kissed his lips, and his jaw, and his neck, each time whispering a soft thank you for letting you use him like this.
Clark’s eyes rolled back, pushing through his own overstimulation to help you satisfy yourself and the pain you were feeling. His hands flew to your hips and guided you as your body moved against his.
He didn’t stop, not even when his come filled you up for the seemingly millionth time and not even when you came on top of him and still begged for more.
He simply kissed you on the forehead and obliged, putting you in more positions. On his face, against the wall, even flying!
Finally, after what felt like an eternity—ten long, brutal hours—a shift occurred.
You were back laying on the bed, Clark moving in you with a rhythm that had now become as familiar as your own heartbeat. Another orgasm was building (you were unsure how you could even manage any more), the familiar tension coiling low in your belly. You braced for it, your fingers digging into his biceps and sheets underneath you, a silent moan building in your throat.
The climax that hit you was different. It wasn't the frantic, desperate, needy release that had characterized the last several hours. It was much slower and softer. As the last tremors faded, you didn't immediately feel the familiar, creeping return of the ache. There was only a deep, heavy, and thoroughly sated exhaustion.
Clark stilled inside you, his body rigid with attention. He searched your face, his eyes wide, hopeful that this time might be it. “Sweetheart?”
You blinked slowly, the frantic, glazed-over look finally gone from your eyes. The feverish heat had receded from your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath, and it was the first full, clear breath you’d taken in half a day. The oppressive, maddening need was simply… gone.
“I think… I think it’s over,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from overuse.
A massive, relieved sigh escaped Clark. He collapsed as he pulled out of you. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping around you.
“Thank goodness,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “Oh, thank gosh.”
You lay in silence for what felt like an eternity, simply breathing him in, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure twitch through your exhausted muscles.
Finally, he spoke, his voice a husky, wrecked version of its usual self. “Are you… are you okay? Did I hurt you… was I too rough…”
You tilted your head back to look at him. You reached up, cupping his cheek. “I'm perfect,” you whispered, and you meant it. “And you were... incredible. Thank you, and I’m sorry for putting you through that for so long."
A shudder ran through him, and he turned his head to press a soft, grateful kiss to your palm.
“I was so scared,” he admitted. “I hated seeing you like that. Out of your mind. I felt like I was... taking advantage, even when you were literally begging for it.”
“You weren't,” you insisted, stroking his hair. His dark curls were damp with sweat. You snuggled deeper into his embrace, the events of the evening replaying in your mind. A slow blush crept up your neck.
“Clark?” you said, your voice small.
“Yeah?”
“Did I, um, I don’t know… was I like too….”
“...needy? Desperate?” he finished for you, his tone joking.
He shook his head, a small, tired smile gracing his lips. “No, no, no. You were perfect. You were in pain, and you trusted me with your body to make it stop. That's... that's the highest compliment I think I've ever been given.”
He brushed a thumb over your cheek, his touch infinitely gentle. “And for the record,” he added, a hint of that earlier, possessive darkness flickering in his eyes, “seeing you like that... completely lost in what I was making you feel... It was the most beautifull thing I've ever seen. A little terrifying, but... incredible.”
You let out a shaky breath, the last of your insecurities melting away under his sincere gaze. “Even the flying part?” you mumbled, burying your burning face in his chest.
Clark's chest vibrated with a low, genuine laugh. “Especially the flying part.” He shifted, pulling the rumpled sheets over your cooling bodies. “Now, you need to rest. Your heart rate is finally normal, your temperature is stable... but you're exhausted and your muscles will definitely feel sore in the morning.”
As if on cue, a massive, bone-deep weariness settled over you. Your limbs felt like lead, every muscle protesting the hours of relentless strain and god were you sore down there. “Clark?” you whispered again, already half-asleep.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Thank you,” you breathed, the words slurring with exhaustion. “For... everything. For keeping me safe. I love you so much.”
He held you tighter, “Always," he whispered into your hair and placed a soft kiss. "Now sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up.”
━━━━━━━
author's note:
KINKTOBER RAHHH!!!
lowk headcanon that reader takes notes of everything experienced under sex pollen to bring back as a report for the lab.
anyways, i tried my best y'all lmao, smut is not my strong suit (we all know i much prefer angst)
but either way i hope y'all liked it, and feel free to send me requests for kinktober and i'll try and get out as many as i can!! thanks for all the love and check out my other works <33
p.2 of 'it's getting hot in here?' where Jonathan and Martha for Clark's and reader's safety always try to interrupt any moments the two have alone together. in the room together, interupting with excuses every two seconds. Clarks supposed to go over to readers, no Jonathan needs help with something. They want to 'study', Clark's door is removed so the 'hinges can be oiled'. They want to see a movie together, let's do a family thing
ahhh i absolutely love this haha hope you enjoy it!
It’s Getting Hot in Here (Again)
Smallville Clark x Reader — Part 2
part one
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
summary: After clark almost set you on fire, you two can’t catch a break — no matter how innocent or romantic their moments get, Jonathan and Martha always find a reason to interrupt. Fluff!!!
word count: 1.4K
It had been a week since The Incident.
That’s what the Kents had started calling it — capital T, capital I — spoken in the same grim tone they might use for “meteor shower” or “barn fire.”
And ever since, Clark and you had officially entered what could only be described as supervised dating probation.
—————
It started small.
You’d be sitting together on the couch, shoulders brushing, watching a movie in the Kent living room, when Martha would just happen to wander through every ten minutes.
“Need any snacks?” She’d ask, already carrying a tray of them.
“No thanks, Mrs. Kent,” you’d answer sweetly.
Five minutes later…
“Popcorn? Water? Fresh air?”
Then Martha would poke her head in, smiling too wide. “Everything okay, kids? Temperature’s good? Not too warm, right?”
You and Clark would exchange a look. “We’re fine,” you’d both say in unison.
Martha would nod thoughtfully. “Good. I just, you know… don’t want the curtains catching fire.”
Clark groaned so loudly it startled the dog. “They’re acting like I’m one passionate glance away from an extinction-level threat.” Clark whispered. You giggled.
————
Clark’s room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and aftershave. You were sitting cross-legged on his bed, “studying,” which really meant tracing your finger over his arm while he tried to pretend he was focusing on his notes.
He smiled, that shy, slow one that made his ears go pink and leaned closer. You were kissing, Clark’s tongue almost about to touch yours when-
SCREECH.
The door literally came off its hinges.
You both froze. Jonathan stood there holding a screwdriver like it was a badge of honor.
“Just—uh—needed to oil the hinges,” he said gruffly. “Don’t mind me.”
“Dad!?” Clark exclaimed, still halfway leaned over you.
“Carry on, son.”
“Dad you can’t be serious…it doesn’t even squeak.” Clark’s shoulders slumped.
“Clark don’t argue with me, I know how and when to oil the hinges of the doors in my house.” Jonathan argued.
Clark stared in disbelief.
A beat.
“Actually don’t carry on. I need help oiling these.” Jonathan speaks.
You leaned your face onto Clark’s arm an amused smile on your face. “Guess we’re an open-door policy kind of couple now.”
Clark groaned. Getting up. “They think I’m gonna set you alight with my teenage hormones.” Clark spoke.
I tilted my head “well…” my voice high pitched.
“That was one time!” Clark defended walking after his dad.
—————
Later that day, Clark had plans to come over to your house for dinner. You’d actually cooked. Pasta, salad, the whole thing. You’d set the table, even lit candles — but then the phone rang.
“Hey,” Clark’s voice came through, sounding sheepish. “So… my dad says he, uh, needs help with something in the barn.”
You frowned. “Right now? At six o’clock?”
“Apparently the tractor’s… unstable or something.” Clark sighs rubbing his temple.
You stifled a laugh. “Clark you’re kidding!” You sigh looking at all your hard work laid out on the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely mournful. “He won’t even tell me what I’m fixing.”
You sighed. “He’s doing this on purpose.”
There was a pause. Then, in the background, you could clearly hear Jonathan yell, “Don’t make me come drag you out, son!”
Clark groaned. “Yeah. Definitely on purpose…I’m really sorry y/n.”
“It’s fine…” it wasn’t. You hung up, muttering something about farm chores ruining romance.
Exactly ten minutes later, in the middle of you pouting at the table, there was a whoosh and your kitchen curtains fluttered. Clark appeared in a blur, cheeks pink, hair ruffled.
He superspeed-sat, grabbed a fork, and devoured a plate of pasta in fifteen seconds flat. You blinked.
He grinned, a little sheepish. “Didn’t want it to go to waste.”
You laughed, leaned over, and wiped a spot of tomato sauce from his lip. “You liked it?” You asked.
“Best pasta I’ve ever had.” He says. He kissed you quick, just a flash of warmth, before disappearing again in a gust of wind.
You smiled to yourself.
—————
By the weekend, the sabotage had reached new levels.
You’d planned to go see a movie together in town, you even had tickets. You showed up at the Kent house all excited, wearing his blue jacket you’d ’forgotten’ to give back. Clark was halfway down the stairs, grinning, when Martha called from the kitchen.
“Clark! Change of plans!”
He froze mid-step. “…What kind of plans?”
“Family night!” she said brightly. “I made lasagna!”
Jonathan added, “We rented The Sound of Music!” Holding up the movie.
You blinked. “The three-hour version?”
“Extended cut!” Martha said proudly.
Clark looked at you helplessly. “They’re never gonna let us leave.”
You squeezed his hand, smiling despite yourself. “Guess it’s a good thing I like your parents.”
Jonathan overheard that, of course. “We like you too, sweetheart! Especially when you’re not burnt…”
Clark groaned, face in his hands. I smiled.
“it’s movie night. Family tradition.” Martha smiled.
Clark, deadpan “Since when?” Not once in his life had this happened.
“Since now,” Jonathan said, sitting down between you.
You mouthed help to Clark. He mouthed I’m so sorry back.
At least Martha made good popcorn.
—————
That night, after surviving the world’s longest family movie, you finally managed to steal five minutes alone on the porch. The air was cool and still, the fields bathed in moonlight.
Clark leaned against the railing beside you, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. “You know,” he murmured, “we’ve been alone for five seconds now, do you think they’ve declared a national emergency yet?” He asked sarcastically.
You smiled, bumping his shoulder. “You know they only mean well, right?”
He sighed, glancing back toward the glowing farmhouse windows. “Yeah. But if they follow us to prom, I’m moving to the Fortress of Solitude.”
You laughed, softly. “I’ll bring a parka.”
He smiled that boyish, heart-twisting kind of smile and brushed your hand with his.
You leaned your head on his shoulder, and for the first time all week, nobody interrupted.
For exactly twenty seconds.
Then the screen door creaked open.
“Clark!” Jonathan’s voice. “Horses stables need cleaning I think-“
Clark groaned into his hands. “I swear to God—”
You laughed so hard.
—————
It took planning. Stealth. Timing.
And maybe a fake “extra credit study session” note taped to the fridge for good measure.
After weeks of interrupted moments and Jonathan suddenly needing help moving hay bales, Martha asking for “just one more photo for the family album,” and the tragic “hinges need oiling” excuse that resulted in Clark’s door being removed entirely…. the two of you finally managed to find a loophole.
“Your parents aren’t gonna show up in the loft with cookies again, right?” you asked, climbing the steps, notebook in hand, teasing him.
Clark gave a little grin, that half-nervous, half-mischievous one. “I told them I’d be doing tractor maintenance. Pretty sure that’s the one thing that guarantees privacy.”
“Because they’re scared of grease stains?”
“Because Dad knows I actually hate tractor maintenance.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Are you scary when you’re grumpy?” You teased.
Clark shot you a look which only made you laugh more.
“You’ve really thought this through.” You smirk
“I’ve had time to think it through,” he said, almost groaning. “Weeks, actually. Weeks of—” he moved closer, voice lowering “getting interrupted every time I even look at you for too long.”
“Poor guy,” you said, mock pity in your tone. “Deprived of eye contact.”
“Oh, it’s way worse than that,” he murmured, eyes softening before he finally leaned in.
It started slow, that nervous, shy sort of kiss that turned into something more when you smiled against him. He sighed a little, pressing closer, one hand in your hair, the other braced against the wooden beam behind you. There was that familiar warmth radiating off him, the kind of warmth that made your pulse flutter.
Then —
“MOOO!”
You both jumped.
Clark blinked, glanced toward the barn door, and groaned when he saw a cow staring directly at you through the slats, chewing and looking deeply unimpressed.
“She’s staring,” you whispered trying not to laugh.
“She lives here,” Clark said helplessly.
“Yeah, well, she’s judging.” You look back up at Clark.
Clark looked at the cow, looked back at you, and sighed. “This is the most Smallville thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, and that only made him grin harder. “Fine,” he said, dropping his forehead to yours with a low chuckle. “If I can’t escape my parents, I’ll take the livestock.”
“Really?” you teased. “She looks like she’s about to call the Kents.”
“Don’t give her ideas,” he murmured, kissing you again, the laugh still in his chest.
