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reyalvr · 1 year ago

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SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

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KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t.

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face.

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up?

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?”

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.”

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you.

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him.

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his.

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate.

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on.

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.”

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.”

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-”

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson.

Shit. Strike two.

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him.

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag.

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself.

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance.

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours.

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three.

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours.

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger.

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence.

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you.

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up.

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place.

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat.

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices.

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd.

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system.

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.”

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.”

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone.

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on.

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something.

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.”

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously.

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board.

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely.

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words.

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off.

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan.

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him.

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything.

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.”

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door.

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.”

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in.

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while.

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.”

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features.

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation.

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.”

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine.

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

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neilsbeloved · 1 day ago

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get the job done

summary: every night, clark feels bits of his sanity chip away as he has to involuntarily listen to your moans and whimpers despite being miles away from you. he doubts he can control himself any longer especially with a familiar red stone hanging around his neck.

pairing: red k!clark kent x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ / smut with no plot / oral (f) / dubious consent / use of vibrators / unprotected sex (no male cum) / voyeurism (i think) / overstimulation / inappropriate use of superhuman hearing / size kink / clark competes with a vibrator / competitive clark / mutual masturbation / big dick clark fr / mentions of using somebody’s moans to get off

Clark Kent is the best college roommate you could ever ask for.

He cleaned, he cooked, he has cool parents that always sends him freshly baked goods—and above all, he's always down to get you your art supplies whenever you run out of them in the middle of the night.

Though, you always wondered how he manages to get to the edge of the city then back to the dorm in less than ten minutes. Whenever you did that, it took you at least an hour. You didn't question him about it though, you figured there so much more things to worry about than your roommate being Sonic the Hedgehog's cousin.

Clark could say the same for you.

Never asks questions, keeps your hands to your own things, washes the dishes when it piles up, always offers your help whenever he and his journalist friends needs it—it's a breeze living with you.

Well, almost.

Whenever the clock hits twelve and you bring out your friend from underneath your bed, it's the only time Clark wishes he can fully block out his superhearing; give you your privacy and let him fall asleep without having to hear of your hushed breaths and restricted moaning.

Why not leave? Clark could easily super-speed out of the dorm room then come back after you're done.

He did that before already. Running off to the farm in Smallville to sleep in his own room, barely alerting you that he did. It worked for the first few minutes. He was able to get some quiet, got to close his eyes, relax—everything.

However, just as he was about to fall into sleepland, your voice invades his head again. The intensity of your voice seemingly felt like he's doing it intentionally; zeroing on your voice despite the distance he willingly put between the two of you.

With his cock hardening every second he heard your voice desperately calling for him, he couldn't help but be forced to relieve some of the pressure using your moans, no matter how against the idea he was.

The next night he left the dorm, he tried going as far as the Fortress of Solitude. Sitting just outside of the grand palace, head in his hands, eyes closed thinking he finally escaped the threshold of your sounds.

Unfortunately, that breathy voice of yours saying Keep going, Clark, you're fucking me so well proved him wrong.

Clark strolls back inside of the dorm, bag slung over his shoulders after he had just finished his last class for the day. You immediately appear into his view, nose deep into your drafting table, sparing him a quick glance.

"You don't look nice. Didn't sleep well?" You chime, voice characteristically monotonous.

Clark sighs. His shoulder slumping down as he takes a seat on his desk, rubbing his face in his hands. "Not really. I was caught up on some midterm review last night."

"Midterm review?" You furrow your eyebrows, "Oh! Is that why you weren't here last night?"

"L-last night? I was here." Clark clears his throat.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow as you throw him a look over your shoulder. "Dude, I woke up at like three in the morning and your bed was empty. Hours later you're back on your bed snoring."

He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry, Clark. You don't have to tell me if you're sneaking out," you say teasingly, only to laugh loudly when you see Clark roll his eyes at you.

Only if you knew what he was doing out of the dorm.

The both of you began working in silence, occasionally bringing up some mundane things to talk about like what the two of you are having for dinner, or if either of you are going to a party you got invited to.

"Why ask me, aren't you and that dude in finance going out?" Clark asks, stretching his arms up while dropping his pen on his notebook.

You grimace, shaking your head. "He spilled coffee on a plate I was supposed to submit."

"That's gotta leave a mark," Clark hoots, throwing you over a look before laughing. Very much entertained at the way you glared at him to shut up. "What'd you do about it?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I left his sorry ass in the cafe, Jesus." You huff irritatedly, scratching the side of your head with the tip of your pencil. "Every man's either stupid or reckless, usually it's both."

"No argument from me there," he responds, reminding you once more why you enjoyed having him as a roommate.

After another round of silence, his phone rings in an awfully loud ballad ringtone.

Whenever that ringtone sounds, you know it's that blonde named Chloe. While in other cases where it's a White Snake ringtone, it's definitely Chloe's cousin Lois. You, on the other hand, picked out the Mario Kart theme song as your designated ringtone after finding out about Clark's little habit of assigning a specific ringtone to a person.

"It's Chloe, she needs me at the Planet." Clark says with a nod, closing his notebooks shut and grabbing his jacket. Before he leaves, Clark calls for you. "Oh—and I might spend the night back at the farm. I need to help my dad out with something so… I'll just bring you some muffins."

When he sees you raise a thumbs up, Clark nods, locking the door shut as he left.

Fuck, Clark, keep going.

Don't stop.

Mhm, just like that!

Your voice rang in his ears. Constant cries of his name falling from your lips like an endless prayer.

Clark's jaw ticks, resisting the urge to let the growl in his throat free as the bartender over the counter looks at him with concern. "You okay, Kal?" The red rings in Clark's pupils flicker dangerously. The Kryptonian downing the shot in one straight swig, barely even affected by the lousy human alcohol.

"Never better," Clark says, jerking his head for another shot.

Yesyesyes—Shit, Clark—

The marble counter cracks under Clark's hold. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he tried to block out your sounds. As beautiful and dirty they were, this wasn't the time nor the place he should be hearing them.

He swears, one more whimper of his name and he'll—

O-oh! I'm almost there, please…

"Keep it," Clark slams a hundred dollar bill he stole from someone in the club, the bartender looking at him confusedly. Before he gets to ask him, Clark had already dashed away.

When he arrives, his mouth falls open in utter surprise.

You laid there naked, legs spread, your cunt out in display for anyone to see. The pink toy in your hand pressed firmly on the quivering mess in between your thighs. Your cheeks were dusted with color, eyes closed shut, lips wide and spilling all sorts of moans and pleas.

One hand was on the pink toy, the other was busy fondling your breasts. Rolling your firm nipple in between your fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened by the second.

"Oh—mmhm—fuck! Almost there, almost there… godgodgo—" A silent scream breaks through you, your hips stuttering a few times before you ultimately shake on the mattress. Legs clamping around the pink toy as spots of white appeared in your vision.

Clark's name leaves your throat, smothered by the pillow you grabbed beside you.

Then, you hear a voice from the corner: "Aww, c'mon now, angel, don't cover your mouth."

You stiffen, body shooting up in alert. Your eyes drifting to the figure at the corner of the room; his legs were spread apart, big hand holding his even bigger cock as he shamelessly runs it up and down the length. Deep groans emitting from his every movement.

It's Clark, your roommate.

He's jerking himself off in the corner of your damn dorm room.

"What? Don't stop on my accord, angel. Keep going," he shrugs indifferently. Lips pulling into a smile that urges you to continue. "Oh c'mon… do you want me to beg for it, angel? Beg for you to continue pleasuring that little cunt of yours until that gadget finally makes you come?"

Your cheeks heat up with the vulgarity of his words. Clark doesn't even use curse words on a normal day, hearing these stuff come out of him now is bizarre.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about, Clark."

Clark chuckles at you, deep and pointed, letting go of his cock and standing up to start walking towards you. Your legs close out of instinct, nuzzling them both to your chest as Clark sits a feet away from you, right by your feet.

He catches your lust-blown eyes in his, only to glance down on your lips, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Angel, let's not fool ourselves here. I know you've been fucking yourself every night thinking of me. Picturing my mouth…" he runs a finger on your exposed knee, "…my fingers…" he flicks his attention back up, noticing the way your breathing slowly clipped and your eyes glued on his member. "…and of course, my cock."

You shake your head at the last bit, trying to get some sense back into your brain. Telling yourself over and over again that this has got to be some sort of nightmare—or dream, actually.

"You think that little toy of yours is enough to satisfy your needs—but no, it's isn't, angel." Clark nears his face to yours, the manly scent of his aftershave invading your senses. "Not even close."

He pulls away with a smirk, enjoying the way your legs clenched together with just his mere words.

"C-Clark…" you breathe out, trying your best to sound composed. But it's hard, especially when your roommate—the very one you've been fantasizing about—is sitting in front you with his hard cock in display. "We shouldn't do this."

The man in front of you scoffs, an air of smugness surrounding him. "Why not?" He asks you softly, "You didn't seem to have a problem crying out my name a second ago."

You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

"I'm betting you anything in the world that if I pry these legs of your apart," he places a hand on your knee, "Your pussy would be dripping wet."

You don't respond anymore—you don't think you can. Your head is spinning with everything that's happening. You just wanted to get your release for the night, not get tangled up with Clark-on-viagra.

But you can't say that it didn't intrigue you.

This version of Clark—the way his voice went deeper than it usually did, the blazing hot presence he carried himself with—you can't say that it didn't make the mess between your legs ache even harder.

The way he watched you like a predator watching his prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce on you—it was fucking hot.

"So what do you say, angel? Are you gonna let me show you how much better I am than that lousy gadget of yours, or are you gonna stick with that?"

Your response? A wordless one as you spread your knees apart, letting him see every inch of you from your glistening cunt to your stiff peaks. Clark's eyes glow red, his sharp canines coming into view as he zeroes in on your puffy clit, begging to be tended to.

"Good choice, angel," he grins, kicking off the rest of his pants before lying down in front of you.

Clark's head is face-to-face with your pussy. His arms wraps around on both of your thighs in a secure grip before he dives in.

His tongue finds your clit with practiced ease, swirling the wet muscled around it, alternating between sucking and licking before you start to feel the tip of his fingers prod at your hole.

"Oh my god," you gasp, the quick rising of your orgasm has you gripping the sheets in ecstasy. "Keep doing that… keep—keep your mouth on that clit, Clark." You feel him chuckle against your pussy, finding the way you're instructing him adorable.

It's not Clark's first encounter with pussy. And it's definitely not Kal-El's too.

He looks at you, making sure you keep your eyes on him before he thrusts one finger inside of you. He barely lets you adjust on his thick finger as he goes right into fucking it in and out of you while he sucked on your clit.

Your legs shake uncontrollably around his face, trying desperately to clamp around his head but his arms are stopping you. The muscles of his biceps flexing harshly.

Clark puts in another finger, testing your hole with his thick fingers as he keeps his eyes locked onto the delicious upturn of your eyebrows. The walls of your shared dormitory now filled with your shameless moans.

"Right there!" You gasp, darting out to grab his wrist as you began meeting his thrusts with your hips. "So… sosososo—fucking good, Clark."

"Yeah? How good?"

"Incredible," you breathe.

The knot in your core tightens, your walls clamps down on his fingers greedily.

"Better than your toy?" He arches an eyebrow.

You don't answer, your mind currently running in circles as you focus on the overwhelming sensation in your pussy.

Clark's eyes narrow, teeth coming in contact with your clit as you writhe. "Asked you a question."

"Better! It's… ohh fuck…" your mouth falls open, feeling the finish line near.

Clark grins, looking at you with satisfaction. "It's about to get better." he flicks his tongue in continuous strokes, making up for the bite before he starts thrusting his fingers into you. Making sure your wetness trails down the fluffy covers of your bed for tomorrow's reminiscing. "Come all over my hand, angel. I want you to make a mess of yourself."

You do as he says, your legs giving out as you feel a rush of pleasure shoot through your core. Your eyes squeezing shut as a broken cry of his name falls from your lips.

Not even a second later, you already feel Clark cleaning you up with his tongue. Greedily licking up every bit of come that oozes out of your hole, caring about nothing else aside from making sure he gets every drop. No matter how hard you pull at his hair, pushing him away from further overstimulating you, it practically does nothing as Clark's strength overpowers you.

Next thing you know, you're convulsing around his tongue again, this time, faster than you ever did on your vibrator.

Your voice is hoarse by the time Clark pulls away from you. Your thighs tensing involuntarily as he finally lets go of his superhuman hold on them. The lower half of his face is drenched in your release, glistening again the smooth skin of his chin.

He moves up to you, hungrily taking you in a lust-filled kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue—sweet, mildly salty, and very messy.

"Not done yet, angel. Fun's just started," he grins, running his tongue over his sharp canines.

God if that didn't make you ache even more.

You let him pull you closer to him, the weight of his cock resting idly on your pussy. The sheer length of his cock making you squirm in place. Clark only chuckles, giving you a few slaps to side of your thighs.

"Don't worry, angel," you start to feel his tip run up and down your slit. Clark's forehead creasing as he dips back down to angle his hips so that your wetness coats the outside of his cock.

You gulp. The air gets knocked out of your chest the moment you feel the first two inches inside of you.

"Oh god," you cry out, holding onto Clark's biceps. "Clark, you're… Fuck—I can't—"

"You can, angel. Just a little more, c'mon. You can take dear ole roommate inside that greedy cunt," Clark grunts, nose scrunching up as he looks at you with nothing but lust.

He pushes in further, and when you've thought his fully inside you, he's still pushing in.

"God, Clark, how fucking big are you?" You can't help but let it out, too overwhelmed by the stretch in your cunt to even care about your words.

Clark smirks, "Big enough for you to take, angel."

You finally feel him bottom out, and it's like your heart shoved up your throat.

"How's it feel, angel?"

Your walls flutter around his cock as a response. A deep growl ripping through Clark's throat the moment you do.

"I'm takin' that as a yes to move, angel. Now, if you wanna be naughty and muffle your moans," he drops his eyes to your swollen lips, "Feel free to bite me."

He begins moving at a brutal pace. Pounding in and out of you with much force that your bed frame's hitting the wall in loud clashes. Clark sucks on his teeth as he goes delirious over your tightness, losing the grip he has on himself the longer that he keeps fucking into you.

"Clark! That… nhhngg—feels so fuckin' good, givin' it to me so—so fucking good baby," you ramble, saying the only words that you know at the moment.

The red rings in Clark's eyes pulses, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure. Losing yourself to the pleasure as sobs of his name fill the small space. He feels more energy surge through his body, fucking his thick cock into you with much more vigor until you feel his balls slap onto your ass with every thrust.

Your core tightens, the knot in your stomach coming way earlier than you want it—you can't stop it, the way Clark's fucking into you in an inhumane pace has you nothing but puddle in his arm.

"O—Oh, Clark! I'm coming!" you sob out, locking your arms around his neck as you feel a sort of chain on it.

Clark's hands moves from the mattress to the side of your neck, using you as leverage to thrust even deeper, groaning deeply each time. "Go on, angel, come for me."

A wave of pleasure—way more intense than before—ripples through you. Your legs shooting up to wrap around Clark's waist as his pace never faltered, continuing the ruthless way his hips crash into yours with abandon

Mindlessly, you tug on the chain around his neck. The pendant on it slipping from the opening of his shirt. Your eyes caught on the red stone pendant, the mere stone glowing just subtly.

Clark looks down, his pupils flaring red the moment he sees the pendant. He turns back to you, watching in satisfaction as you squeeze around his cock like a greedy bitch in heat.

You shake from under him, back arching up into his clothed chest as you release one more time. Clark bites his lips, pulling out of you haphazardly only to feel a gush of your wetness spray onto his cock.

The two of you look down at the same time, seeing the part where you two had connected be drenched with liquid—both yours and his.

Something drops onto your chest, just right above the center of your breasts. When shift your head just subtly, you see a familiar pendant on your bare skin.

"Oh my god…" a shaky voice comes from above you.

There you see Clark, again, only this time he doesn't have that dark and lustful look in his eyes—no, this time, he actually looks shocked.

You shake your head, thinking maybe it's just the orgasm doing tricks on you. But then Clark speaks—

This time, a little less deep and more Clark Kent: "Oh no."

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