ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ ᴘ!ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ᴘᴛ⁵

breeding kink: 1 - 2 - 3

car sex

his fav pov

his revise cowgirl princess

stroking his cock w ur tits..

riding what belong to you

his cock princess

giving a hard lesson after being a brat in his truck

a shower quickly ride

rubbing ur clit w his thumb for being a good girl

giving u a reminder who u belong too

fingering the shit out of u until u squirt

giving u what u begged for

holding onto ur arms while he pounds tf out u

showing off what belongs to him

make out season while he plays w ur pussy

being tied up while he fucks u

having u blindfolded as he fucks u to watch ur tits bounce 

Jack had known your father since their military days, making him completely off limits— a line that meant nothing now that he had you pinned flat against his dining table, with your cunt hungrily taking every inch of the older man’s cock.

"Good girl, hold onto the edge f’me. Fuck— you take me so well princess," Jack grunted, his eyes fixed on the way your plush ass bounced against him with every heavy thrust. Your knuckles turned white against the polished wood, broken whimpers fracturing past your lips as he hit that sweet spot again and again.

Your climax was rapidly approaching when your phone lit up, vibrating loudly against the tabletop. Jack slowed his pace just enough to glance at the screen, a dark smirk spreading across his face as he read the name on the screen.

"Look at that... your father is calling," he murmured, pressing his full weight down over your back while staying buried deep, his shaft throbbing inside your clenching walls. "Pick it up."

"nono—Jack please—" you choked out, shaking your head wildly at the sheer cruelty of the request.

Jack drove up into you with a single, brutal buck of his hips, tearing a sharp gasp from your lungs. Before you could pull away, his thumb swiped across the screen, flipping the call straight to speaker.

"Hey, honey," your dad’s voice crackled through, warm and completely clueless. "Just calling to catch up. Are you busy right now? How are you?”

Jack drew back until he was barely inside, then sank back in agonizingly slow, making you feel every ridged inch. You bit your lip until the sharp sting kept you grounded, fighting to keep your voice steady. "N-no, Dad...I'm good. Just...cleaning up the kitchen."

Jack’s palm snaked up your stomach, calloused fingers pinching down on your bare nipple hard enough to make your hips jerk off the table, your body clamping tight around his cock in a sudden vice. He didn't slow down, driving up into you with a deep, punishing pace that left your thighs trembling.

"You sound winded," your dad noted, his voice laced with sudden concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

Jack leaned right against your ear, his breath burning hot against your shell. "Tell him you're fine, unless you want him finding out what a dirty little whore his little girl is for his best friend's cock” he whispered, accelerating his hips into a faster, meaner rhythm.

"I'm—ngh—fine, Dad," you forced out, your breath hitching hard as he split you open with every hard thrust. "Just...tripped over my own feet while rushing to grab my phone."

Your dad let out a soft laugh. "Don't wear yourself out kiddo. Catch up with me tomorrow, okay? Love you."

"Love you, t—" The response shattered into a muffled moan as Jack bottomed out with cruel depth. His thumb zeroed in on your clit, grinding tight, brutal circles over your peak right as the call disconnected.

A dark chuckle vibrated in his chest, his hands gripping your waist to yank your hips back flush against his pelvis.

"Think your daddy knows his most trusted friend is fucking his baby girl right where he sits when he comes over?" He groaned as your inner walls clamped down in a merciless squeeze at the sheer taboo of it. "Look at you...milking my cock from just hearing his name. “dirty girl.”

look at those curls your honor, he’s innocent 😜

childhood best friend pope who doesn't approve of your boyfriend..

cocky

summary: clark isn't satisfied with your introverted behavior in the office.

pairing: clark kent x reader

warnings: dark fic, dub-con, drink-tampering (basically a slow-building aphrodisiac), ooc (dark)!clark, unprotected sex, rough sex, hints of obsession, squirting, tummy bulge, he's your manager and delusional, power-dynamics, alcohol, afab!reader, reader's face flushes from consuming alcohol, slight age-gap, condescending/misogynistic/age-ist language, slight size-difference, not beta-read

wc: 4.4k

note: i haven't written something dark or CLARK in a while. so here is this fic that's been marinating in my drafts for a while <3

bigger note: please don't read if you can't handle dark content or ooc!clark. i am not responsible for the content you consume!

masterlist

---

You knew his sweet, soft personality was an act.

How could a guy who looks like that not know how hot he is?

It felt like a prize when you found out about his secret -- that Clark Kent, the soft-shelled dork from the other side of the office, was actually a huge asshole.

“𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪…” 𝟐

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 ~ “𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬…”

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, coercion, unhinged inner monologue from rafe continues, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, mentions of smut, MAJORR size kink, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, forced kissing, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe tries to win you back, no matter at what cost.

𝘼/𝙉: It's finally here! Final word count: 19.5k. READ CHAPTER ONE HERE. Enjoy :)

“You have any more, Rafe?”

She sounds so whiny. They all sound so fucking whiney to him. He wishes they’d just shut up. Let him use them and then leave. He’s got two of them in his bed now, and for a while he’d watched listlessly as they’d kissed, played around, snorted coke off each other’s naked bodies like the desperate whores they were. He’d called them as a distraction, but now he didn’t even have the heart. Fucking pathetic.

“Bottom drawer.” He mutters, picking up his phone for the tenth time. One of the girls crawls over him, rummaging around in his drawers and brushing her naked body enticingly against him. He couldn’t give less of a shit though. His thumb hovers over your name saved on his phone, and for the hundredth time since the whole fiasco last week, he considers calling or texting you.

Rafe hadn’t run after you that day, when you’d overheard him talking all types of shit about you to his dumb fucking friends. When he’d lied about fucking you, when he’d proclaimed you were no different from any other Pogue slut who’d spread her legs for him. All with a straight face like some type of robot, and you’d cried and run, leaving your books on the ground behind you.

And he’d wanted to run after you. He hates to admit it, but there was a part of him that wanted to chase after you, gather you in his arms and wipe your tears and tell you you’d heard wrong, that he didn’t mean any of it. That he’d just acted up in front of his friends for some stupid reason or the other. That he was sorry.

But he hadn’t. Because he was Rafe fucking Cameron and he never ran after anyone. Especially not a Pogue.

“𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪…”

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, unhinged inner monolog from rafe, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, smut (oral + p in v), oral (female receiving, fingering, MAJORR size kink, spanking, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe bets his friends he can fuck you in one week.

𝘼/𝙉: It's here! The full fic. Word count: 23k. Please let me know what you think - reblogs and feedback mean the world to me. Read the warnings before you read, and enjoy!

“Her.”

Rafe looks over at the Pogue girl Topper’s nodding at and smirks. “Been there, done that. Pick a different one.”

Topper scoffs, “She literally moved here last week.” 

“And?”

“OK… What about her?” He brazenly points at a leggy blonde that stands out in her group of Pogues.

“Last weekend at the beach party you threw. She gives good head.” 

“Jesus Christ dude, is there anyone left??” 

Rafe chuckles, leaning back and stretching his legs out while his friends stare at him in disbelief. He sometimes wonders if they know how stupid they look. Like followers. His followers. Hanging on to his every word, oohing and aahing at whatever he did. Making him feel like he was a God among men. Which he may as well be, considering that’s how most people at this college looked at him. 

That’s why he loved fucking the Pogue girls. Almost exclusively. There was something about the power imbalance. Most of them came from poor families, looked at Rafe like he was a God. It didn’t take much for them to spread their legs for him, impressed by his power, turned on by his wealth. Hell, even the Kook girls were the same. But Rafe hardly ever took them home. They were spoiled sluts who hung around the country club wasting their lives and spending their daddies” money. Yeah, they didn’t pique his interest at all. Not as much as the Pogue girls who worked at the country club. In their little housekeeping outfits, deliberately teasing him in the hopes he’d take one of them home.

Yeah. It was safe to say Rafe Cameron had a type.

LEWIS PULLMAN as Rhett Abbott OUTER RANGE 1.08 — The West

be on the lookout for this 🫣 coming this week

sitting on top of uncle!pope’s lap as you’re watching a documentary about lions or some shit like that, you can’t even pay attention as to what is going on in the tv as you’re too busy grinding your hips against his. the blue light of the tv illuminating the dark living room as you rock back and forth, pressing your wet heat on his already hard dick, letting out soft moans and whimpers before his big and rough hand covers your mouth, stopping you from making noise.

Metropolis’ Pretty Boy

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader. reader is a detective from gotham city police department.

summary: ever since clark has ran into you one morning while writing about a case (that you were working on) involving the two sister cities, he’s been obsessed. calling you, finding excuses to talk to you, showing up out of nowhere. you found it amusing but never indulged as you always prioritised your work and found yourself too busy. until one night, you let him take you out on a date.

word count: 4,797

tags: smut, p in v, unprotected sex (not advised), kissing, touching, destruction of objects, hyperspermia, clark calls reader “good girl”, love struck!clark, oral (fem receiving), cum eating kinda hehe, grinding, doggy style, big d!clark, overstimulation, stomach bulge, teasing, awkward!clark, super down bad for the reader AND freaked out, he’s pretty pathetic in this lol

Clark has never liked Gotham. To him, it was the epitome of corrupt, hopeless cities. The smell was awful, the people had no hope, everything was dark and gloomy— just not his cup of tea.

Of course, he’d go as superman when needed, or as Clark when covering stories that interlink the two sister cities: Gotham and Metropolis. But he never actively sought it out, and never looked forward to visiting the city.

It was safe to say that while Clark was thrilled to be covering a story finally exposing some deeply rooted corruption, he dreaded having to go into Gotham. He had spent the whole morning in his Metropolis apartment trying to ignore these thoughts, just so it’d be less of a pain for him and he could get stuff done.

Clark passed by the Daily Planet, huffing to himself because today and the many following days he’d have to go to Gotham City Police Department. He stopped to get some coffee, trying to get himself into a light spirit— because being moody about going over to that wretched city just wasn’t going to get anything done.

First, Clark started with the straight-on facts like how long this corruption had been going for, who was involved, etcetera. He talked to some cops who have been one of the ones to directly expose everything. He wrote things down, he interviewed people.

A corporation operating between both cities— big people involved, money laundering, illegal weapons being moved between the two. It was a lot, and Clark wanted to get down to every little detail.

He had tried requesting public records, and interviewing certain detectives that were still working on the active investigation, but it was hard because even his Kent charm couldn’t get him far in this field. A lot of things were still confidential, and some just didn’t want to waste time talking to some investigative journalist from Metropolis.

Luckily, he had managed to find victims and witnesses that were demanding answers near the precinct and the site where all the crime went down. They were glad to see that at least someone in a position was talking about this, trying to bring light to everything that wasn’t revealed yet.

Clark listened to every word, recording the whole interview after gaining permission from the people he was talking to. He even wrote a few things down into his notepad, determined to get things done efficiently.

After a long day in Gotham, he decided to treat himself to some coffee again as the sun dipped into the sky, casting an orange-pinkish hue. It took some time trying to navigate the dreary city, but he did end up finding the nearest cafe after a couple of minutes.

Finally getting his order, Clark stepped out of the store, immediately hit by the stench of Gotham. He opened it up, the warmth of the cup filling his fingers. Even though caffeine had no effect on him, trying to blend in as a human after all these years really did catch up to him and it just became habit.

He was already thinking about getting back to his apartment back in Metropolis, a place that’s small but cozy, and a place that smelled much nicer than the city he was currently in. Gosh, he wanted to leave so badly, his feet picking up the pace instinctively.

Clark was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t even seem to notice you rounding the corner. Thankfully due to his reflexes, he managed to abruptly stop before spilling the coffee all over himself, and also from bumping into you.

“Sorry,” You immediately mumble, tired eyes flickering up to meet his bright and blue ones. You register the way his pupils blow wide, the way a faint flush creeps up his face, the way his hand comes up behind his neck.

However, it doesn’t phase you much. All these restless nights have caused you to dismiss the things that didn’t matter much to you.

“No, no- it’s fine. It’s my bad, really.” Clark said quickly, gaze scanning over you. His eyes lingered on your outfit, that very clearly signalled to the fact you were one of Gotham’s detectives.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, too focused on getting home—“ he laughed, almost awkwardly, and at that you just blink slowly, as if you were wondering when he’d stop talking so you could move on with your day.

“Right. Well, I better get going. Have a good day.” You state, nodding at him. Your heels click against the dirty pavement, and Clark just stares at you for a few seconds before running after.

“Wait, wait! You work at GCPD, don’t you? I’m an investigative journalist, currently writing about the—“

Stopping, you turn to him, and finish his sentence. You already knew what case he was talking about. It was the biggest one as of now, the one everybody has been talking about.

“You’re not the only investigative journalist we get,” you mention, looking down at the name tag on his blazer. “Mr. Kent.”

“I see. I work for the Daily Planet, and I really want to get everything I can on this case. I think the people of both Metropolis and Gotham deserve to know, especially with a case like this.” Clark says firmly, straightening his back. You can see the glint of determination flashing in his eyes through those glasses.

You stare at him for a little while, before responding. “I understand, but I can only tell you certain things as it is still an active investigation.”

At that, at your subtle words hinting towards the fact you’ll be of help, a gleam of hope now flickers in his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you very much,”

You nod, beginning to walk again. He follows after you like a lost puppy, eager to finally get something to write about— and also talk to this pretty detective, of course.

It’s been a few weeks. The active investigation no longer burnt hot like it did before, and it was clear certain people were trying to cover it up and distract the public from the truth.

The police were no help either. Everything was still kept confidential, only ever leaking a few vague pieces of information every now and then.

Clark was still focused on getting to the bottom of this. He spent some days in Gotham, some days at the Daily Planet writing a couple of drafts and getting advice from his colleagues.

But one thing that still did burn as brightly as it did all those weeks ago— was Clark’s interest in you. Sometimes, he’d head on over to the one city he hated with a passion, just so he could see you. He’d find excuses to talk to you, and those excuses got more silly as time went on.

As for you, it was amusing. This clumsy and awkward journalist from Metropolis absolutely head over heels for you. You never leaned into it or anything, too focused on work to really do anything.

One of Gotham’s best detectives, and you were determined to live up to the title. Constantly busy, working on dangerous cases, having to make morally grey choices…

It just didn’t feel like you and Clark would be a match, at least that’s how you saw it. He was all sunshine, always saw the good in people— completely incompatible with your traits.

One thing the both of you had in common was your love for your work. But whilst Clark lived in his work, you drowned in it.

The sound of the old door in your office creaking was what snapped you out of your thoughts. One of your colleagues, a fellow detective walked in. She placed a cup of coffee on your desk, almost ritualistically. The both of you had become coffee addicts since the job, it was needed to stay awake during all the late nights.

“Thanks.” You mutter, hands coming up to rub at your sleepless eyes. The dark circles under your eyes was just proof of the mental and physical toll this job took on you.

“No problem, detective.” Your colleague forces a smile, but it’s quite hard to when her facial muscles have all stiffened. “There’s this tall journalist outside waiting for you. He wants to come in.”

“Oh, that must be Kent.” you drawled, unsurprised by the news.

“He seems to have taken a liking to you.” The other detective finally cracks a genuine grin, taking a sip of her coffee. “He’s cute.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you manage a dry laugh. “Don’t.”

The detective takes a step closer to your messy desk. “I can tell he’d be definitely more than eager to help you unwind one of these nights.”

You finally stand, walking around your desk. “You haven’t lost your sharp edge, even after all these years. I have to admit, it’s nice having his bright energy around, especially now during these times.”

“What can I say?” the detective tilts her head, eyes flicking to the door where a very broad presence waited. His silhouette stood unwavering through the window of the door, waiting patiently yet nervously. “You’re gonna miss him when it’s all over.”

“His company, maybe. But Metropolis’ pretty boy and a workaholic detective don’t exactly work together.” you declare, heading towards the door.

Your colleague follows after you, but lingers at the door. “In your worldview, at least.” With that final statement, she opens the door, leaving.

Clark steps in after her, handing you a cup of coffee. Only then does he notice you’ve already got one on your desk. “Sorry, I just wanted to get you some. I was getting one for me, then I thought of you and—“

“It’s fine. I can have both. I’ll probably need both.” you smile lightly, entertained by his awkward rambling.

At that, he beams.

The first half of the early morning hour went professionally, and the two of you managed to get a lot done. Even as an investigative journalist, you have to say— Clark was pretty good at this, and already carried a few traits of a detective.

Since these past couple of weeks, Clark had tried countless of times to ask you out. You always politely turned him down. Today, you expected him to try again.

But he didn’t. And he hasn’t for a while, like he respected your boundaries. But with the way he looks at you, so adoringly, with so much awe— it was clear he’d try again if you let him.

You glanced at your calendar which sat in front of you. For the first time in a while, you have a free day during the weekdays. Normally, you would’ve spent that day catching up on any missed work or something.

You debated it in your mind for a long time, wondering if you should let yourself have a break. Maybe you could finally let him treat you to dinner. But it wouldn’t be a date, you’d make sure of that. You wouldn’t drink or do anything impulsive, you’d act responsibly— you told yourself.

He’d better not walk you home or anything, or do anything that’s so him, it might just loosen up all your defences. And you couldn’t afford that now, not with an active investigation you were currently working on.

Turning to him, you state it simply. “Are you free on Wednesday?”

Clark lights up, and it takes everything in him not to freak out too much in his seat. “Yes, I am actually.”

“Maybe we could go to dinner, like you’ve been talking about.” You remark nonchalantly, trying to keep it casual as your arms cross over your chest.

“Sounds… good.” He attempts to hold in a gulp, he can’t believe this is actually happening. “We can discuss everything there too.” Clark adds, picking up on your casual tone, trying to maintain eye contact so he doesn’t seem too nervous.

“Great.”

The sound of ringing pulls you both out of the moment. The two of you share a look, and he begins to pack up and leave so you could take the call.

“I’ll call you.” Clark notes before he goes through the door.

Stepping out of your front door, you’re greeted with the sight of Clark waiting flutteringly. The breath is knocked out of his lungs the moment he sees you, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

He’s nervous. Why wouldn’t he be? Nervous to mess this all up, now that he’s finally taking you out for dinner. Yet after laying eyes on you, on you actually coming out here, willingly doing this— brings ease to his heart.

“Hello.” Clark said, trying to sound composed.

“Hey.” You respond cleanly, walking on over to him. He had no ride to take you both there, but from what he’s told you earlier, the place is quite close.

The entire night, Clark couldn’t rip his stare away from you. His eyes couldn’t get enough of you, as if he’d never be seeing you again after this night. The two of you settled comfortably into the dinner, no longer tense or awkward as before (which was mostly Clark.)

You, however, loosened up more than you would’ve liked. You drank a bit despite yourself, and just talking to Clark felt like the weight on your shoulders lifted. He was pretty good at distracting you from your busy life, you have to give him that.

And maybe, just maybe, you needed this. You needed an escape. But even then, as you finished your food, you knew not to let anything escalate. Because if it did, Clark would probably come back for more. And you can’t give him more.

Trying to ignore the looks he kept giving you, it was proving very difficult. The tension between the two of you had lingered in the air, almost tangible. Hovering and waiting till one of you finally acknowledged it. Clark clearly had by now— just holding himself back from doing anything about it.

Clark didn’t drink much normally, it never affected him the same way as it did with humans. But seeing you nurse a couple— looking more relaxed than he’s ever seen you, made him order a drink for himself.

“I didn’t know you drink, Kent.” You smile lazily, staring at him through the rim of your glass.

“Sometimes,” Clark lied without a hitch, taking the glass from the waiter.

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t call him out on it. Being a detective has sharpened you, but being tipsy has frayed your edges.

“I’ll walk you home after this.” Clark notifies, taking a sip of his drink rather slowly as if he’s only ever done this a few times.

“You know I can walk myself home,” you pause, setting your cocktail glass down. “I know these streets well.”

“I know. I just want to be with you for longer.” He replies, and at that a silence falls over you both again.

Even the walk to your place held not much of a conversation. Just casual remarks about random things occasionally. It wasn’t to break the silence, it was just like saying whatever was on your mind almost involuntarily— like you never expected an answer or anything.

By the time the both of you had reached the entrance to your condominium, neither of you had made an immediate move. Clark stayed, and so had you. His hands were in his pockets, clearly in no rush.

Your expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, but deep inside you could feel yourself slipping. If Clark stayed like that for longer, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep yourself in check…

His blue eyes traced your appearance reverently behind his glasses— time had worn off his nervousness, and all that was left behind was this. Whatever ‘this’ is. But you knew well what it is.

You expected the usual soft sentence to fill the silence and end the night: maybe a sweet “Goodnight,” or a hopeful “Can I see you again soon?”

But none of that came.

Clark took a step closer, and as much as your body screamed to create distance— you didn’t move.

Where was this side of Clark Kent hiding all this time? He seemed so sure of what he wanted, and it was crystal clear he was no longer going to dance around his feelings.

“I don’t want this night to end with just me dropping you off. If it did, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Your breath hitched at his words.

He continued, voice dropping softly. “I’ve been thinking about you since… well I guess you could say since we met,” He laughed, hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Tonight was really good. I had a great time.” You blurt out, unable to stop yourself. All that serves to do is help him get his point out.

“I’m glad, really. Seeing you all relaxed, like we don’t have to just be the journalist and the detective… made me realize that I don’t want to keep beating around the bush.”

“Clark, I-“ He cuts you off, something he would’ve never done. But with this newfound determination, he’s not gonna let anything get in the way of saying what he needs to.

“I’d really like to kiss you. If you let me, of course.” Clark smiled sheepishly.

You blink, finding all your walls that you’ve so desperately tried to keep up come crashing down.

Standing up on the tips of your feet, you tug hard onto his tie, pulling him down sharply so you could kiss him. Clark gasps at the sudden movements, but then leans into it as if he’s been dying for this moment.

His big hands grab onto your waist, dragging you against him. They hold on tightly as if you might disappear the second he lets go. Your blouse scrunches up in his palms— he surprisingly has a strong grip for such a mild-mannered reporter.

Clark’s lips fit perfectly against yours, and they don’t stop moving even as you try to catch your breath. One hand reaches up and tangles in your hair, attempting not to tug too hard and hurt you.

You manage to pull back, beginning to murmur against his lips. “You’ve been working up to this all night, haven’t you Kent? Sure you can handle it?”

Clark nods rapidly, like an eager puppy desperate to get its treat. He brings you into another kiss, this time more open-mouthed. His hands and yours move over each other with a hunger that can no longer be controlled.

The moment you feel it pressed against you, undeniably hard and throbbing, it pulled you to your senses. The both of you were still outside your condominium, where anybody could see how you two were making out like desperate teens.

“Clark,” you breathe out, his name coming out of your throat almost like a whine. “Shit.”

“Yeah… shit,” he mumbles against your skin, burying his face in your neck, embracing your warmth.

“My apartment’s on the 18th floor.” You say, eyes searching his. He nods, biting his lip. This is really happening, and he can’t wait.

Clark grabs your hand, and the two of you try to act normal as you make your way to the lift. The whole way up was barely restrained desire— the both of you had decency to not be all over one another in a public lift was cameras.

As soon as the lift doors opened, and after you both had slipped out of your shoes and made it past the door, you were crashing your lips against his again. He groaned into the kiss, pulling you back against his body as if he’s been starving for it.

Your hands immediately start to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off with urgency. Clark’s hands roamed down your back as the two of you stumbled through your apartment. Finally making it to your room, Clark walks you backwards towards the bed.

You pull back to take him in, eyes blowing wide the second your gaze was met with the sight of his body. Holy shit, you thought. All sharp lines defined him— broad shoulders, thick pecs, arms carved from granite, a v-line that could kill…

All of this, hidden within a passive and unassuming reporter. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You just hit the jackpot.

“Fuck… been hiding all of this under those button-ups?” You mutter in awe, and he blushes under your gaze. You could feel your body getting a very visceral reaction, dampening the cotton of your panties.

“Sorry,” Clark said in a quieter tone, a little embarrassed. Still, even under the heat of your gaze he can feel himself pulsing at your words. “Is it a lot?”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering why he’s apologizing but at this point you’re too far deep to really care. You shove him back onto the bed with a surprising amount of strength, climbing on top of him with ease as you attacked his mouth and worked to get rid of more of his clothes.

Clark let out a moan, hands settling at your hips. He pulled them down to connect with his, as he very much needed the friction down there. He could tell you wanted anything but gentle right now.

His hands venture lower before gripping your ass, pulling you down against him as he grinds up against you erratically. He was so hard it was bordering on painful.

The feeling of his clothed bulge rubbing up against your already leaking pussy was insane. It created such a delicious friction, causing a sharp whine to escape your mouth. Clark swallowed the sound, using his grasp on your hair to tilt your head to the side so his tongue could dive in at a better angle.

He abruptly rips himself away from you, then flips your positions effortlessly. Clark moves down your body, impatiently tugging away at your remaining pieces of clothes.

He released a whine at just the sight of you ready for him. His hands bracket your thighs, pushing them apart to make room for his head to settle between them. Not wasting a single second, he presses his mouth to your clit.

The first contact sent a jolt through you, thighs threatening to close but he held them apart gently. He sucks firmly, never too hard, but just enough.

Clark pulls back to look up at you. “You taste s’good.” He mumbles, already drunk on your pussy. His tongue licks into you repeatedly, and he showed no signs of stopping any time soon. He could literally be here all day.

He then gathers your slick together by swiping his tongue up, nose prodding against your sensitive spot over and over again. His lips, chin and even the tip of his nose is already a mess— and he’s relishing in it.

Your thighs begin to shake violently, and he doesn’t stop until you finally let yourself go on his tongue. He doesn’t let a single drop go to waste, still staying in place and licking away until he was certain he got it all.

When Clark finally moves up, he kisses your lips lightly. You’ve gotten quite needy after the way he just dragged that whole process out.

“Do you need some water?” He asks, trying to be a gentleman still.

“I need you to fuck me, Kent.” You whisper, hips bucking up to meet his even with the lingering aftershocks of your release.

His blue eyes seem to darken, hair falling into them messily. He’s so gone for you and everything you do or say seems to make it worse. He slowly and methodically pulls off his belt, dismissing it to the side.

He completely takes off his trousers and boxers, not wanting to half-ass this. Clark’s cock springs free, his hips involuntarily snapping forward as the confines of his clothes are lifted.

Your eyes widen, your hand immediately clasping over your mouth at the sight of it. Thick, long, and about to ruin you for anybody else very, very soon. He stroke himself once, his tip already leaking rather steadily— desperate to be wrapped up in you.

He leans down, one hand beside your head and the other holding onto the headboard for balance. “You gonna be okay?”

You nod.

Clark guides himself to your entrance, the pink tip bumping against your swollen clit during the process. The moment he pushes just the head in— a cry is freed from you, and a groan leaves his lips. The both of you cursed when he started to push himself further in.

He already began to stretch you so beautifully, your walls clenching around him like a vice. By the time he was fully buried in you, it felt like too much and he hasn’t even started moving.

“Too big— too much!” you whimper.

“Shh. It’s okay. You can take it, I know you can.” Clark reassures, and he starts to move.

Every thrust had him knocking the air out of you, pressing against that spongy spot deep in you. A little bulge formed in your lower tummy every time Clark bottomed out, and he couldn’t help pressing his hand against it.

The pace quickly got faster and harder— deep, powerful thrusts that had the headboard banging against the wall. The hunger that was once restrained was now freed, his grip crushing. Clark would break your headboard with the impact of his thrusts and hand if he kept it up.

You, usually so quiet and low-toned, moaned shamelessly. Urging him deeper, your nails scraped his back and shoulders, getting him to release a low sound and drive in further.

By the time you reached your second climax, Clark was still not done— and hadn’t even cum himself yet. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back, and pushed in on one thrust. You were so wet and tight for him, as if you had been made for this.

His hand came down on your head, pushing your face into a pillow after you got a little too loud. It would still take a while until Clark would finally release, so he decided to drag out your own.

Your hands held onto the sheets, trying to prolong your release as he asked you to, but it was proving hard. To make things worse, Clark’s pace didn’t let up, not even for a single minute.

His hand went between your bodies and started rubbing your clit in tight circles, the dual sensation causing your back to arch uncontrollably. You were already teetering on the edge, and any second now you’d blow.

He pulled out of nowhere, gripping himself as he began to rub his swollen head up and down your slick folds. He was panting against your neck, teasing not only you but himself. His cock began to coat in your wetness the longer he dragged the both of your pleasure out.

Right when you started to beg, crying out for it, he slammed in hard. Finally, you came, milking his cock deliciously.

“I’m gonna— g’na—“ Clark could barely get the words out, balls drawing tight, and with a final thrust, he let himself go. His seed filled your walls over and over again, and he kept pushing through it, fucking it deeper into you.

He couldn’t stop, rope after rope flooding in you hot and heavy. So much so you could actually feel your tummy swelling again from the sheer volume as he pumped you full.

Your toes curled, the feeling of his thick release overwhelming your senses. It leaked around him no matter how much he kept thrusting to try and keep it in you. He was moaning against your ear, embarrassed yet turned on at the same time, and all you could utter was his name.

He kept pulsing, non stop, until finally finishing with a long groan. Clark stayed in you for a few more minutes, the both of you trying so hard to catch your breath.

“Good.. girl.” Clark managed to murmur the praise in your ear. He finally pulled out of you slowly, whining at the loss. A lot of his cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets.

“Clark… what the hell was that.” you pant, flipping yourself onto your back so you could look at him.

“Sorry… I should’ve warned you.” Clark flashed you a crooked smile. “It’s always been a lot.”

You just stare at him for a while, too fucked out to respond. Your chin tilts upwards, glancing at the clear scratches and chipped wood of your headboard.

Metropolis’ pretty boy had gotten under your skin, broke your headboard, fucked you hard and you could already tell this wouldn’t be the last time.

author’s note: hey guys! sorry for not posting in so long, i was on holiday. all or nothing at all part 3 is in the works and i’ll try to get it posted asap!!!

dc taglist: @pinklyred @skeletaldynamolegion @k2cowgirlup

"andrew 'pope' cody is a sub,” i say into the mic. the crowd boos. i begin to walk off in shame, when a voice speaks.

"no, they're right," they say. i look for the voice and standing in the crowd is shawn hatosy.