my-favourite-s-m-u-t

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

MDNI 18+ .ᐟ

scott miller face-fucking you...⋆.𐙚 ̊

cw: unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating, scott is secretly a softie afterrrrrr <3333

༚ ˗ˏˋ masterlist ˎˊ˗

“s-scott, s’too muchhh—ohgod i—can’t” you sniffle, writhing against the sheets as scott continues pushing your face harder and harder into the pillow, making your jaw painfully slack and causing you to drool all over. “all you ever do is bitch n’ moan about how mean i am, bein’ nice now baby, feedin’ you this cock like the hungry slut you are and s’too much? where’ve your manners gone?” he mocked, words so heavily laced with teasing it was downright shameful, you fucking hated how wet it made you.

“hate—nghhh—you” your breathy whines were muffled against the pillow, but scott still heard you loud and clear, answering with a raw smack to your ass. “oh i bet, that why you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight? hm? hate me all you want baby, but this pussy says different.” with that, you let out a strained “no—hate you so—mmgghh—fucking much. so—hmm—much” you try catch your breath for even a split second, but that idea’s quickly interrupted by scott’s rough hand on the back of your neck, snaking around to the centre of your throat and squeezing ever so lightly. “you wanna be like this? fine. jus’ have to shut that mouth up myself then” in an instant, scott’s grip moves from your throat to splay against your stomach, flipping you onto your back. he’d gotten past the point of merely just manhandling hours ago, when you first spat at him about just how much you hated, fucking loathed him, that was until he swiped his tongue across yours in a searing kiss and you surrendered.

now eye to eye with scott, you blinked up at him through tears, watching him kneel over you like a fucking god. he squished your cheeks up between his hand and in no more than a second, shoved his throbbing cock to your mouth, not fully pushing in just yet. he started off by swiping the aching tip against your puffy lips, the barely-there touch making your eyes roll back. you couldn’t help but loll your tongue out and lay sweet kitten licks to his slit, drooling all the way down his thick length in the process. “gonna be good f’me?” he teased, but you were so fucked out that forming any coherent sentence was impossible, so replied with a muffled “mmff—s’good f’you—s’…good” he smirked, scoffing an “atta girl” and without warning, plunged his wet cock straight down your throat. you clawed at his thighs in front of you, searching for any form of support, opting in leaving raw nail scratches down his solid quads. unable to hold back anymore, he began fucking your face relentlessly, muttering small instructions of “breathe through your nose baby, you’re fine”. when it all got too much, your eyes fell heavy and you swear you passed away out, only to be awoken by the tap of scott’s thick fingers against your jaw, cooing “stay w’ me pretty girl, almost there—fuckkk—so fuckin’ close” so sickeningly soft it almost made you forget the ache he was bruising in your cheeks. you were sobbing, blubbering against his fat cock, streams of tears and pre-cum dripping all the way down to your tits. with one last squeeze of your throat, scott let out a low groan, spilling his hot seed down your airways and only pulling you off his twitching cock when he was sure you’d milked him dry. you fell limp against the pillows, scott wasting no time in scooping your neck up and resting your spent body against his warm chest, murmuring “did s’good f’me, so fuckin’ good baby” breathlessly against your forehead.

“still hate me?” he said through a smirk, bringing your chin up to look at him.

you giggled softly, staring deep into his hazy blue eyes whilst whispering “always”.

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[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

You on your knees, wide glassy eyes staring up while your mouth works over the thick outline in Clark’s pants ,licking the shape of him through the fabric, sucking desperately until the cloth is soaked and clinging to every ridge. drool smears your chin, lips swollen as you whimper “please, i need it, let me suck your cock” again and again, your voice breaking while he just holds your hair tighter, forcing you to keep begging through the soaked material like a desperate little mess

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

18+ mdni

clark "say thank you, baby" kent who ingrains the importance of manners into you. words of please and thanks go a long way with most, so what would make clark any different? 

he's a man made of pure heart, valves and veins containing nothing but good — his kind nature all done without any need for acknowledgement or praise. everything he does, done simply just because. though after a while, he'd find himself chasing after approval, and so he'd turn to you. 

but it would manifest differently.

when the head of his twitching cock rests on your tongue, he's muttering blissed, mumbled words of praise; talking sweetly of how beautiful you look with his dick in your mouth or how pretty your eyes look. and once he's finished emptying the contents of his balls on your flat and extended tongue, he's closing your mouth — a finger pressing up under your chin, as if he's asking you to swallow. he'd then come down to your level and meet you with a kiss, uttering a simple "say thank you, baby," against them.

or even when he's feeling particularly naughty, thick heavy cock resting on your cunt, he'd wait; teasing you with that he knew you wanted most — with what you needed more than everything else in the world right now. he'd grind himself through your pussy's lips, pushing his tip past the slick of your folds until he can surprise you with his dick. he'd grant your desperate pleas and begs, and would sink deep inside. pressing chaste, urgent little kisses across your cheek as he works them towards your ear. muttering softly into the shell of it, "say thank you, baby."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

Clark who after a silly, drunken hookup with you (his coworker) finds you forgot your panties at his place. And, being the good boy he is, he washes them so he can return them.

(He'd been reluctant about removing the scent of your slick from them, but he didn't want to give them back to you all dirtied.)

When he manages to catch you alone on Monday morning and hands them to you — all flustered and stuttering out murmured apologies, his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink — you seem amused.

“You could've kept them,” you point out, a grin curling the corner of your mouth.

He blinks at you and a tiny furrow forms between his eyebrows. “What for?” he questions.

You just smile at him. “Here. Let's trade.” You grab him by the hand and lead the way.

He didn't expect to end up locked in the bathroom with you, his body caging yours against the wall while his hand works under your skirt, fingers fucking deep into your cunt while you hold onto his arms for dear life.

You're moaning quietly, trying to not be too loud lest someone realizes what's going on in here. Your legs are shaking and getting closer to giving out with every curl of his digits that allows him to press that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Clark, oh my God,” you whine into his ear, nails digging into his skin.

He groans, his body alight with desire, the front of his pants tented where his cock is desperately aching to be sheathed in you. But he contents himself with grinding against your thigh a little, not nearly enough to give him the orgasm he's yearning for, but enough to keep him at bay.

His thumb rubs your clit in neat circles, feeling how your gummy walls clench his fingers with each stroke he delivers. He kisses your temple, his voice rough in your ear: “I want you to come on my fingers. You think you can do that for me, baby?”

You nod, eager, desperate. “Yes,” you gasp, eyes shut tight. “Yes.”

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, dragging his lips down the side of your face, to your neck, where he preoccupies himself with kissing and biting gently.

Your climax is close, a tight knot of pleasure growing quickly, deep in your belly, threatening to snap soon. You can't think anymore, can barely keep yourself quiet. Clark's fingers are just so good. They're long and thick and a little rough with calluses, and he reaches every spot with ease and precision, as if he knows your body better than you do.

“Please,” you mewl, legs trembling. “Please, Clark, please.”

“Shh, shh, I'll get you there,” he promises, chuckling softly when you pull him right against you, your soft tits pressing against his chest, his cock against your lower stomach. “Relax, I'm not going anywhere.”

Your breathing grows quick and shallow, your little sounds interrupted by gasps of air, and you're squirming, hips rolling in time with his fingers.

“Kiss me,” you whine, one of your hands moving to the back of his neck to pull him in.

He goes gladly, crushing his mouth onto yours, swallowing down the squeaks and moans you let out when your orgasm finally wracks through you.

Much to his surprise, a gush of your slick spurts from you in time to the little tremors that wash over your body. It soaks his hand and wrist, buried between your thighs, and drenches your panties.

Clark gasps, whines and tenses. Somewhere between grinding against you and the surprise of you squirting on him, his body finds enough stimulation and he finishes, his cum coating his underwear, thick and creamy.

“Shit,” he mumbles against your neck, mortified, feeling a blush build up from his neck to his face and all the way to the tips of his ears.

You, unaware of his...situation, kiss the side of his face gently. Your hands softly push at his chest, and he moves a step back, glancing down minutely at himself to make sure there's not a wet spot at the front of his pants.

Thankfully, there isn't. Yet, at least. There's a lot of cum, he can feel it, and if he doesn't clean it up soon, it'll stain his dress pants.

On weak legs, you shimmy out of your panties, the material soaked, and hand them to him. Clark blinks at you, surprised, and you giggle.

“Keep them,” you tell him, putting on the clean pair that Clark had just returned to you. “As a little souvenir.” You wink playfully at him.

When he stares at you, somewhere between shy and delighted, your expression softens and you kiss his cheek. That eases the tension from his body some, even though he's still got one hand in front of his crotch so you can't see the gathering mess.

“I'll have you doing this to me again if you return them, hear me?” you whisper, probably meaning it as a threat — Clark only hears a promise.

He nods, even though, as he stuffs them in the pocket of his pants, he's already planning on going back home and washing them for tomorrow. And this time, he should probably bring himself an extra pair of underwear, too.

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

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Clark Kent masterlist

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

i block ageless blogs and minors; do not interact. to open and view p.links, use your twitter account.

cw: missionary.

⟢ an early, sleepy morning where clark’s mouthing your tit.

⟢ clark drilling you.

⟢ clark fucking your thighs, before spilling on your lingerie.

⟢ clark using shallow, taunting penetration.

⟢ clark’s supersized…

⟢ pussy sliding and underwear-on teasing, with clark.

cw: oral.

⟢ clark throat-fucking you.

⟢ smallville!clark eating your cunt.

⟢ two, whole minutes of clark worshipping your breast.

cw: riding.

⟢ clark breeding you. woc-friendly.

⟢ creaming on clark. woc-friendly.

⟢ during broad daylight and in the backseat, with clark.

⟢ overstimulated, on clark’s lap and fingers.

⟢ riding smallville!clark’s clothed bulge, until you squirt.

⟢ you and clark’s size difference... woc-friendly.

cw: solo.

⟢ clark, at work and touching himself, using your toy.

⟢ sexting, with smallville!clark.

cw: standing.

⟢ gravity pulling clark’s cum from you.

⟢ rough pounding, while clark’s lifting you. woc-friendly.

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

LIKE THE REAL THING

You send the guy you were dating pictures of you in lingerie by accident.

cw: 18+, smut, accidental 'nudes', colleague!reader, clark jerks off to your pictures, m!masturbation, soft dom!clark, rimming, f!receiving oral, clark uses his arctic breath on you, temperature play, p-in-v, overstimulation,clark's all freaked out in this fic, he eats you from the back, doggy, belly bulge, possessive!clark (4.4k wc)

You were halfway through tugging your jeans back on when you realised something was terribly off.

Cat should've been blowing up your phone in all caps by now — a 'GODDAMN BABE YOU LOOK HOTTT', or at the very least, 'buy both, coward'. But your screen remained stubbornly silent. Save for one text you didn't get a good look at.

Weird.

You yanked the curtains open, lingerie draped over your forearms as you shuffled out of the fitting rooms. Swiping your lock screen to open the most recent message. Your thumb hovers over the opened chat and you choke on your breath. No. Oh no. No no no no.

It's staring right back at you. In unforgiving grey & white. Clark Kent. Packaged with two little blue check marks sitting all innocent underneath what you'd consider the most unsexy tit and rump pics of what you'd tried on earlier.

"H-Holy shit," you croak, all too dramatically slumping into the mannequin beside you. You tossed your phone into the clearance panties basket as if that would've reversed the crime scene.

Your heart's slamming out of your ribs when you shakily grab for your phone, hoping it was a hallucination that you hadn't sent racy pics to a man you'd barely been on two dates with. Mr Small-town-farm-boy. The same man who would pull away burned the second your tongue met his lips.

This was it. You were drafting your obituaries in your head — local woman perishes after sending unsolicited boob pics to the most pure adult male alive.

A buzz from your phone nearly has you whipping it, you shakily look down at the thread.

[6:05PM] You: Blue or purple?? You: [4 Attached Images] [6:18PM] Clark Kent: I think the blue one looks lovely on you. 🙂

You're staring at your phone like he'd send you a response in a different language. Lovely. He said you looked lovely, with a freaking millennial smiley face. Your insides do a somersault. Did he like it? Or was this a pity 'lovely' like he was trying to be nice?

You dial Cat's number before you spiral any further.

"Kill me," you breathe out all at once. Clutching the mannequin next to you, staring face-first at the green crotchless underwear in your eyeline.

"Hello to you too," there's an amusement to her voice, replying coolly like this was a regular occurrence, "what did you do this time?"

"I messed up. Big time."

"Easy, babe. What'd you do? Need me to bail you out of jail or something?"

"Worse. I sent Clark Kent boob pics."

There's a beat of silence across the line, and you yank your phone away from your ears when a loud cackling rings out. "No, you didn't."

"I so did!" You whine loudly, resting your forehead on the mannequin. "And it wasn't even hot. I look like….like I'm posing for an overtly-sexualised pudding commercial — CAT. STOP. LAUGHING. Tell me what to do!"

"Okay, okay. Breathe," she's still wheezing between syllables, "what did he say?"

You pull your phone back to squint at the text, and then hold it to your ears. Biting on your thumb. "He said I looked…lovely."

Another round of shrill laughter explodes through the speaker, "girl, GIRL. DO NOT tell him you sent them by accident. Don't you break his cotton candy heart."

"He's gonna think I'm some stupid over-eager slut, Cat!" You're pacing back and forth like a crazy person, gripped around the mannequin for emotional support.

"Oh please! He's still a man. Just roll with it. Let him think you sent them purposely."

"That's insane." You mumble, thumbs already hovering over the keyboard.

"That's how you're gonna get laid."

You're about to argue, but you type out a draft message, thinking more through your pussy than your mind. And then…you click the send button.

"Did you do it?"

"Yeah. I'm just gonna wai—"

Your phone buzzes damn near in seconds.

[6:38PM] You: You really think so? [6:38PM] Clark Kent: ues you look perfecft Clark Kent: perfect.

You're frowning at your phone at the uncharacteristic typo, and then you screenshot the thread to forward it to Cat.

"Oh hon he's one hundred percent typing with his dick in his hand."

"Shut up," you manage through a grin, "okay, bye bitch, I'm gonna go pay for the blue one."

"Over-eager-slut."

You roll your eyes, hanging up while you're smiling your way to check out.

Clark had been palming himself for the past five minutes. Or at least, he was, until it got way too painful to just rub at his hard-on. He fully had his cock in his palm now, pumping himself slow, with the picture of you on full screen, splayed on his device.

It wasn't a sexy picture — not really, you thought. But the half smile on your lips? The soft curves of your chest he'd been fantasizing seeing, in a lacy blue fabric?

You devastated him.

He tried to type something sweet back, something that wouldn't expose the fact that he was stroking his cock silly like some easily excitable hormonal teenager. He settles for something safe, because that's what you looked like to him always, lovely. Oh..so lovely.

Clark's thumbs rub at the leaking tip of the slit on his cock head. Eyes unfocused, he zooms in on your tits, noticing a glimpse of your areolas. "…!"

He could feel you on his tongue, rolling the shy nubs until they hardened. He wanted to suck around the fat and….And…it's too much. It was too much.

"Oh…mygosh —" He clicks the side button of the phone. Nothing but the black screen reflecting his still throbbing cock, now bubbling over with thick spurts of pent-up cum. It dribbles over his thumbs, landing onto the device. Clark's panting roughly, rubbing it clean clumsily with the waistband of his pants.

And because Clark Kent was the way he was? With restraint barely carved into his DNA? He does the only thing that's sensible. Especially after violating your likeness.

[7:10PM] Clark Kent: I'm sorry. Clark Kent: I can't make it to dinner tonight.

His pulse was hammering in his throat. Leaning back in his armchair to set his phone down. He couldn't face you like this, not when just the sight of you now was enough for him to want to pounce on you and fuck you senseless.

Clark's phone began to ring the tune of one of The Mighty Crabjoys songs. He froze at the incoming call that flashed a picture he took of you, smiling while holding one of your very first articles making headlines on the paper.

He hesitated for a second, but picks up after the second ring.

"Hello?" His voice was terse.

"Clark? Why'd you cancel? Did I do something wrong?" Clark's groaning internally at the worry in your voice. "I — It's not that, It's not you, I just —" His voice is faltering, hesitating.

Your brows knit into a furrow. Something was wrong. With the way he was stuttering at every word, "Clark." You repeat, softer. Heart racing with Cat's teasing words from earlier.

He grits his teeth, head rested on the edge of his chair, your voice settling in his ears like honey. His hand moves downward to idly rub at his still half-hard cock. "Y..Yeah?" He grunts softer and his tip twitches beneath his palm.

Your breath hitches, "…am I interrupting something?"

Clark goes radio silent for far too long and you hear it — his breathing, slow and strained. Inhaling, then exhaling like he was pained.

Finally, he speaks, low, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Ever since you sent me those pictures — I-I'm such a sleaze. It's not anything you did wrong, I swear."

Your lips part with a stuttered breath. Cheeks warming instantaneously at his admission. You're setting your keys down by the doors.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and he's calling your name, hesitant.

You swallow thickly, the words spilling out before you could consider them.

"You jerked off looking at me?"

There's a sharp inhale at the other end of the line, and then he cuts the call.

You stood there for a solid minute and a half. Staring at your phone.

He hung up.

He hung up in your face.

Offence prickled potent in your chest, but it doesn't last all that long. Your thighs squeeze tighter at the ringing revelation that he'd jerked off to you. Looking at pictures of you. It feels far too hot and heavy in your entryway suddenly.

Your screen lights up with another text.

[7:15PM] Clark Kent: I know an apology won't cut it. Clark Kent: I violated your trust. Clark Kent: I understand if you no longer wish to see me. [7:20PM] Clark Kent: I'm sorry.

You hadn't replied, of course you hadn't. Why would he have thought that pathetic apology would've cut it? Nearly thirty minutes had passed since then. Clark lay face down in his sheets, mumbling to himself, mostly things about how he'd let down his ma by treating a girl he really fancied like this.

Idiot. He was such an idiot. You probably thought he was disgusting, and probably regretted ever even giving him a chance.

Bzzztt.

Clark shot up right like the vibration from his phone had shocked him. He sat up on his thighs, palms flat down on his bed with his phone between.

A message notification, from you.

He's clicking on it with shaky hands. Ready to see you sending a text to end things with him officially.

But it wasn't.

[8:02PM] You: [1 Attached Video]

It was blurry at first, shaky. The frame tilted like you were fumbling trying to prop it against something. But the moment it eased? Clark was zeroing in on you. You, in that blue set, perched on your bed.

You were looking into the camera, biting down on your lips with a shy smile. Head tilted to look down as you smoothed the lace on your thighs. Then, you hook your fingers at the thin band of the thong to adjust it higher onto your hips.

Clark's hand snapped to his mouth. Muffling a curse he'd never say out loud. All blood rushing down south when you pick up the camera, angling it down to run your fingers over the thin lace covering your tits, shy areolas peeking through from the near translucent fabric.

He thought the picture alone was enough to wreck him. But this? This was you saying, it's okay, use me.

Your phone rings even before Clark can finish the video you'd sent him.

The first thing you hear isn't even a hello, it's the muffled click of his door, followed by a slow exhale.

"I don't deserve you."

Your lips twitch, fighting back a slow smile at the way his voice trembles. You drag your fingertips down your belly. Toying with the heart-shaped charm attached to the seams of your underwear.

"Did you like it?" You finally say, featherlight. Clark audibly groans at your voice. There's a pause, and then a laugh tumbles out, breathless at its edges. "I — I did. — Yeah. Gosh, I did. You're unreal. So…so insanely stunning."

He hears a rustle on your end. You shuffle up your bed, wetting your lips, "…are you hard?

Clark hums a stuttered mhm. You hear him adjust, and he's rubbing at himself again, sighing, "I feel like some teenager. It's so…embarrassing."

There's a slow boyishness to his tone, and you're giggling, tracing your fingers over your nipples. "I really…liked how you sounded earlier." You admit.

"Yeah?" He laughs, palming his bulge a little harder, "you liked hearing me sound all pathetic, stroking myself for you?

You let out a stuttered breath, fingers rubbing down and beneath the lace covering your pussy, the sound of his voice teetering you over the edge to slip your fingers into you. Clark's listening to the dull schlick's of you touching yourself. He shuts his eyes, timing his idle rubs to your soft moans.

"I wish…you were here."

There's a sudden silence after your honest whisper. "…Clark?" You frown, looking at the line that wasn't hung up yet.

And then, there's a pounding at your door, like whoever behind was about to rip it off its hinges.

You jolt. Fumbling to grab the silk robe abandoned over your chair. The knocking all but grew more impatient, knocks reminiscent of someone trying not to break the door down. You barely make a proper knot at your hips as you open the door — eyes widening.

Clark Kent stands there, hunched over in your hallway. Panting like he'd just run a goddamn marathon. His hair was messy, glasses sitting crooked on his nose. His white shirt clung to him, sweaty particularly at the chest, wearing what seemed to be printed plaid pyjamas.

"Clark," you breathe out, hands stunted at your door frame. "I was just on the…phone with you. How did you get here so qui —"

"I was already in the area." He blurts out all too quickly. Chest still heaving with effort.

You look at him suspiciously, obviously still in what seemed to be sleep clothes, and sounding far too much like he was lying. But then you see how he's boring holes into you, at your robe. Gaze turning feral by the second as if he could see what was underneath the maroon silk.

Before you're able to press a little further, Clark's figure hunkers in. Forcing you to stumble backwards as he shuts the door behind him with a resounding click.

It's quiet, other than the sounds of his still-heavy breathing.

"You said…you wished I was here." He says, voice cracked and barely restrained.

"…I did."

The air whizzes at the speed of him closing the distance before he's on you — mouth crashing into yours, desperate and messy. His glasses bump into your nose, but he readjusts quickly. Kissing you like a man starved, hands trembling as they cup your jaw. His thumb steadied, feeling the way your cheeks hollow to keep up with him. When your tongue grazes over his lips, he doesn't pull away this time.

Instead, he groans into your mouth. His tongue licking into yours, and then over the softness of your lips. Clark walks you backwards and then lifts you up, like your weight didn't even matter. You squeak into his mouth, arms clambering to hook over his broad shoulders. You knees lock around his hips and he's walking ahead, not knowing his destination while he kisses at your neck.

"Where's — where's your bedroom?" He mutters low, the need in his voice sinking deep into your skin.

Your nose bumps into his glasses, chasing his lips. "D-Down the hall. Second door."

His hair feels wild beneath your fingers. Within barely a second, the walls blur, and he slams your room door open. Your breath catches in your throat at what seemed to be a crackling noise when the door hits your closet. You aren't able to see how the wood splintered beneath, and the hinges now creaked raw.

Thankfully, you're far too hazy to question it.

Clark tumbles into your bed, kissing down your collarbone and down to your sternum. "Mmh—…" He sighs into your chest at the sweetness in your satisfied hums. Your robe snaps open, and you jolt. Staring down at your exposed body and up at Clark, who was pulling back, looking down at you with a slow shake of his head.

"The real…thing…far..far better." He mutters more so to himself. Clark pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid movement, letting you marvel at his body. He smiles shyly, lifting your hand up. Looking at you now, he finds enough control in him to savour the sight.

He kisses at your knuckles, soft pecks travelling up your palms as he twists your wrist slightly. Trailing kisses up to your elbows. "I've been wanting to do this with you…for far too long." He admits, breath ghosting your cheeks when he leans over.

You're squirming at the sensation, curling your head into your neck. "I-It didn't seem like it.."

Clark's shaking his head, burying his face into your pulse. Your fingers card through his curly locks. "That's not it. I've been going insane." You raise your brow at his exaggerated hand gesture, "I want to touch you, all the time, every time."

He pulls away, gazing at you. "But then you send me something like that…how could I not?"

Your eyes are wavering, looking at the scrunch of his features. You drag your fingers down his dimples, and he tilts his head to kiss at your fingers once more.

"Mmm. It wasn't meant for you." You say softly, with a teasing edge. Clark's expression twists, grabbing your wrists.

"Don't even joke about that. I'm barely holding back as is."

"I still don't get why you're trying to be gentle, Clark. I-I want you. Can't you see that?" You finally huff out, a slight resentment building in you at how long it took for you to get to this point.

"I don't want to hurt you." He finally admits after a beat.

"Hurt me how? I want this."

Clark exhales slow, and his hold on your wrists loosen, to guide you to rub at the length of his cock. Your breath stills, and you squeeze at the girth.

"Ngh—that's…that's why." He grits, seeing the way you were rendered silent just by feeling how big he was.

"O-Oh.." You murmur. Clark lets your wrists go, but you don't release him. Watching his lips press taut as you curiously venture, squeezing and rubbing at his more than impressive length in your softer hands. It wasn't a reaction he'd anticipated.

"You're okay? With this?" He manages through a strained pant. Hips bucking to your steady strokes of his clothed cock.

"Are you kidding? Why the hell would I not be? My boyfriend is hung, I'd be an idiot to complain."

Clark groans and lets out an embarrassed laughter, covering your mouth with the expanse of his palm. "G-Geez... Don't…say stuff like that." He mutters, head falling flush onto the sheets. You smile into his hand, and your hand wanders beneath his waistband.

He lets you touch him, rubbing his thick, throbbing length. Clark groans the second your fingers roll beneath his balls, "…o-ohmy— g-gosh." His head goes dizzy, and he's blinking at you. "Where did you learn how to do that? Wait — no. Do not tell me." He warns, tugging his pants off quickly.

You grin, pecking at his jaw, ghosting a whisper, "college boyfriend."

Clark pulls back slowly, expression turning all serious. He didn't utter a single word.

Your bed frame groans when he flips you to your tummy all of a sudden. You gasp, perking up to look back at him, not seeing much but the intense look on his face. Clark's palm lay flat at your lower back, dragging his fingers over the pretty lace that curved around your hips and thighs.

You let out a shudder, trying to peek a glance at him. "Clark?" You try, growing worried that you might've upset him for real.

He doesn't answer you, and you soon understand why.

Your hips jump when he presses a kiss on the inside of your thighs. Then, he licks a stripe dangerously close to your puckered hole. "Mmn?!" You all but let out a stuttered gasp when he probes his tongue into your ass. Lips curved around it entirely, sucking and licking. The grunt that leaves you isn't something you recognise.

He holds you in place, tongue flicking over the ring. You don't fully process it, still breathing heavy at the aftermath of a pleasure you were not familiar with.

It's simple in Clark's mind though. He wanted to have the remainder of all your firsts.

He feels your hips tremble, and he soothes around the fat, head dipping lower to tug at your thong. You whimper at the string rubbing at your clit. He nudges his nose up your slick pussy, already wet from the stimulation so far. Your hips lift when he licks up your folds, his tongue poking into your pussy nice and slow.

"D-Didn't think….you had that in you."

Clark laughs, the vibrations sending an electric sensation of desire in you. "Yeah…" And he sucks at the softness, tongue grazing your clit. Your eyes roll back. You're close.

"Clark…" you whine, he hums in response, already aware —diving back in. "Give it to me." He mutters, continuing to tongue fuck your pussy with a blinding pleasure. Your hips are writhing, but he keeps up, knowing you were so goddamn close with just how your pussy was trying to clamp down on his tongue and nose.

He must've been there forever, but he doesn't rise up, not even once, not even to take a breath. It was insane. It's like he didn't even need to. That man was giving your vibrator a run for its money, and you were feeling the full force of his apparent expertise in pussy eating. Something you didn't even anticipate him to be this frighteningly good at.

It takes you a second to register the strange shift in sensation, more importantly, the temperature. His mouth felt so hot — and suddenly, there's an icy chill. Grazing your pussy in a way that has your cunt clench. A startled shiver takes you, and you look over your shoulder.

"W-What the hell was that?"

Clark flinches for a second. Lifting his head. "I — uh…" he begins, brushing his messy curls away from his face, "…I was chewing mints earlier. Do you feel uncomfortable?" he manages, voice strained.

You blink at him, not sure what to actually say. But it felt….good. "No…d..do it again."

His lips quirk into a smile, seeing the curiosity on your features. Clark leans back down.

"O-Oh my—..fucking…god, Clark!" You scream out, muffled into the sheets.

He takes his time, and like clockwork, you feel the familiar build. Your hips are nudging backwards, rubbing, grinding back into his face. And you cum. Hard.

Clark doesn't relent, licking you even as your thighs spasm through your release. He's suckling at your folds, kissing, flicking at your clit until you've pulled all stops, palm slapping onto the sheets.

He pulls away then. Licking his lips, watching you shake beneath him. Clark hooks his arm around your hips to turn you on your back. He leans down to kiss you, sucking your tongue with a gentle ease until you taste yourself. A heavy palm steadies on your head, soothing your hair down. "Easy, easy, baby. You're okay."

You're muttering incoherently into his neck, thighs shaking still from your come down. "I c-can't..s'too..much. It's—…can't.."

Clark rubs at your hips, humming. "Mmhm. I know. I know." He peppers kisses down your cheeks, picking you up in his arms, rubbing you nice and slow. For a second, you actually think he would give you a break. But instead, his own legs pushes yours impossibly apart. His cock rests idly on your pussy.

You blink at him confused, and Clark guides your hand to rest at your belly. "I promise you." He murmurs, interlocking his fingers where it lay on you.

"You won't ever need to think about your college boyfriend when you're with me."

The possessiveness in his tone catches you off guard. "H-Hrrk!" Clark notches his cock into you, and then pushes in, slow, inch by inch. You grab at his forearm that rests beside your face, the other, glued to your belly. He's watching you, watching as your expression turns to utter shock when his cock presses, pokes where he held your palm steady.

Clark looks at you, panting heavily. The suction of your cunt, squeezing at his cock with a pleasure unmatched. "You're so…incredible.." He mutters, burying himself into you to the hilt. You groan loudly, fingertips tracing over the bulge on your belly. Clark presses down on it further, and your eyes roll back.

He leans down, breathing against the column on your throat. His hips pick up the pace, starting off with slow, yet hard rocks into you. "Mm—..myg-gosh…so…tight." Your thighs squeeze around his hips, rocking to his movements. "N-No other…no other guy will ever…have you like this. You..hear me?"

You're nodding, through the tears prickling at the side of your cheeks. He was fucking you so full, so deep, you aren't sure if you'll ever be able to recover from this man. Your grip around his arm turns into a claw. You're about to cum again, you feel it.

But Clark tuts, his hand moving off your belly to hold your jaw in place. "Don't…cum." He mutters with a punishing edge, licking up your jaw slow. Your expression twists, and you clench instinctively around him.

"W…What?"

He groans when you somehow get even tighter around him, and he slumps over you. Grinding slow and deep into you. The wind is knocked out of you by the weight on your chest. But the sheer suffocation of his heavy body only served to drive you even more dumb.

You bite at his shoulder, arm slung loose around his back. "Claaark…" You whine his name out, muffled. Tasting the saltiness of your own tears at his relentless thrusts. He's nosing at your jaw, thumbs tracing over the lace on your neglected tits.

"Gosh..even wore this..all…for me.." His thumb rubs over the band, snapping it apart, earning a shocked gasp from you. You'd be angry at him for that later, but now? Now you were far too fucked out with how your pussy was throbbing, begging for release that he didn't allow you.

Clark leans down, massaging the softness he'd been fantasizing ever since you'd sent the pictures to him. His nose drags over the already hardened nubs, groaning into it, groping them with both his palms. His balls tighten when you mewl as he suckles around the fat.

He breathes your name out, reverent, panting until he tenses. Clark pulls out at the very last second. You blink hazily to see his thighs at the other side of your chest. He pumps himself once, then twice. Hot cum sputtering over your tits in jolts.

You're transfixed at the pearlescent white land on your chest. Wincing when some lands on your cheeks. Clark's eyes are fluttered shut, stroking and squeezing at the head, resting his cock on your sternum until the rest of his spend dribbles onto your collarbone.

He looks at you, with his head tilted. A lazy smile creeping on his lips when he spots you gathering some of his cum off your cheeks to lick your fingertips.

"We should've done this sooner."

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

# CLARK KENT — NSFW ALPHABET !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✶ clark’s behaviour in the bedroom.

002. WARNINGS !

✶ MINORS DNI! talks of oral sex, sex positions, cum, dom/sub dynamics (it’s just a sprinkle), cock size (?), kissing. just a lot of filth, basically. sorry if i missed anything.

003. NOTE !

✶ i haven’t written smut or anything of the sort in like a year? so excuse me if this is rusty or cringey, i did my best 😞 also my Clark Kent Is Vanilla agenda is being pushed hard.

word count : 2,3k

A — AFTERCARE . . . what they're like after sex!

Clark is the King of aftercare. He was raised to be gentle, to be kind, to be respectful. So it is no surprise when he takes very good care of you after being intimate. He has wipes on hand, various chocolates, and a  bottle of water ready on the nightstand. He also loves a good cuddle sesh. That’s more of a selfish need of his, but he knows you crave it as much as him, so he’s not too bothered by it. 

B — BODY PART . . . their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's!

THEIRS . . . He loves his arms. Clark can practically lift the earth with his big, strong arms, but most importantly he can lift you. He will pick you up anywhere, anytime he pleases. There’s a big puddle right where you’re walking? Don’t worry, he will lift you and suffer through the dirty water splattering on his trousers. But, perhaps why he loves his arms so much, is because he can just grab you and fuck you standing—he won’t even break a sweat while doing it. He also adores it when you get cuteness aggression and bite down on his bicep. 

YOURS . . . He loves your face. Not only because he thinks you’re the prettiest girl on the universe, but because he loves watching all the expressions and little ticks you have. Loves to grab your cheeks, smush them and kiss you senseless. Loves to watch you scrunch your nose when he makes a corny joke. And he particularly loves to watch the way your mouth parts when he hits that particular spot inside you that makes you fall apart, and the lip bite you do after to contain the loud moans that follow. 

C — CUM . . . anything to do with cum, basically!

There’s a lot of it. It’s almost too much at times. When he wears a condom, he’s extra careful taking it off because spillage is almost guaranteed. Therefore, he rarely comes anywhere else but in you, the mess he will leave is rarely worth the hassle. Besides, it’s much nicer to watch it spill out of you and fuck it back into you—he says it’s to “avoid cleaning”. It’s not. The bedsheets have to be changed either way. 

D — DIRTY SECRET . . . pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs!

He loves it when you’re a little dominant. When you grab him and push him onto the bed, practically ripping off his shirt as soon as he gets home from work. Clark doesn’t mind you taking out your frustration on him, how could he when it entails you riding him until you physically can’t? Sometimes he guiltily hopes someone pissed you off at work so he can take the brunt of it. 

E — EXPERIENCE . . . how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?

Clark is not the most experienced person ever. He’s not a virgin, but there are not many people who can put up with the monster that hides under his pants. He learns what to do along the way. Notices how your heart rate picks up or how your breath hitches when he does certain things. He’s always willing to learn, researching on different magazines and websites, but mostly he listens to you and your needs.

F — FAVOURITE POSITION . . . this goes without saying!

Mating press. He loves the closeness, how intimate it feels. It allows him to go so deep, perhaps too deep, but you don’t seem to mind. It also gives him easy access to kiss you, something he cannot go without. He will whine when you’re too busy moaning to give him a proper kiss. 

G — GOOFY . . . are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

He’s more serious, mainly because he’s focused on not hurting you and making sure you’re enjoying yourself. This does not mean he will not be goofy, have you not seen how the man acts? The first time he says “Golly” while being inside you, you let out a giggle and he cannot help but do so too. Clark doesn’t mean to be silly—that’s just how he normally is.

H — HAIR . . . how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

Clark is incredibly well groomed. He’s clean-shaven everywhere. His smooth skin is almost enviable, it’s like he’s fresh off a commercial. It is rare that you ever see any dark patches of hair, but when being Superman occupies too much of his time, you will begin to see a dark shadow on his crotch. 

I — INTIMACY . . . how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

This man does not fuck, he makes love. He does not understand hookup culture, sex is something so intimate to him, so beautiful he cannot reduce it down to that. He loves making out, loves muttering compliments and telling you how much he loves you. He also adores looking at you, making eye contact and staring so intensely into your soul that it makes you blush. 

J — JACK OFF . . . masturbation headcanon!

Clark has crazy stamina, he knows a couple rounds cannot satisfy the ache within him, so he will resort to jerking off in the shower more than he’d like to admit. You’ve reassured him that he can keep going, even if you’re thoroughly spent, but he feels too bad to do so. 

K — KINK . . . one or more of their kinks!

There are not many things he really likes, he’s content with being a pretty vanilla man. He can get behind a little Dom/Sub action (him as the submissive, of course). He has to be so in control of everything as Superman that it’s nice being the one told what to do. Along those lines is orgasm control, both you to him and him to you—he really has a thing for power play, doesn’t he? Another fun thing is temperature play, you once asked him to use his freeze breath, and though he was hesitant, it turned out to be very pleasurable. 

L — LOCATION . . . favourite places to do the deed!

Your shared bed. You’ve christened basically all of your apartment since living together, but nothing compared to the comfort of your bed. Clark just really loves coming home to you, picking you up and throwing you onto the bed. When you moved in together the first thing he did was plow you into the mattress, he doesn’t really know why, but something about having sex in your shared bed really does it for him.

M — MOTIVATION . . . what turns them on, gets them going!

Besides you being you, he really has a thing for watching you get ready. It doesn’t matter if it’s for work or date night, Clark rests against the bathroom door and stares. He really does feel like a creep sometimes, sitting on the bed and watching you pick your outfits. Those moments really test his restraint. The amount of lip gloss that has been wasted because he cannot—and he swears he’s sorry—restrain himself and kisses you, messing up your makeup in the process. You pretend to be mad, but kiss him back anyway. He also messes up your perfectly ironed clothes with how hard he grabs your waist or butt, sometimes both at the same time. 

N — NO . . . something they wouldn't do, turn offs!

Anything that could potentially harm you. You’ve tried having him choke you, but he’s too scared of accidentally using too much force. He also will not spank you or hit you in any sort of way, he would never forgive himself if you were ever hurt because of him.

O — ORAL . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

Clark Kent is an Eater™. He could spend hours on end between your thighs, there is no sweeter taste than you coming on his tongue, and no better feeling than you locking his head between your legs. Don’t get him wrong, he also loves having his cock sucked, but he can go without it. Eating you out? That he cannot live without. 

P — PACE . . . are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Slow and sensual, all the way. As stated before, he’s scared of being too rough and thus prefers taking his time. The size of him is also a problem, you always need time to adjust which means he will take it slow. He doesn’t mind, though. The more time he can be close to you, the better. 

Q — QUICKIE . . . their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

Despite loving to take his time, Clark is always down for a quickie. Especially before going to work. You’re both barely awake, groggy from the blaring alarm, there is no time to waste. He clumsily searches for the lube inside the nightstand drawer, puts some into his hand, spreads it, and slowly enters you. When he gets the go-ahead, he starts rutting into you, as gently and hastily as he can. The amount of times you’ve both had to rush to get to work because you lost track of time, he really is thankful for his super speed in those moments. 

R — RISK . . . are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

As long as it doesn’t involve you getting hurt, he’s game to do whatever you please. Although his idea of a crazy night is fucking into you doggy style. But, hey, he hasn’t heard any complaints from you so he must be doing something right. 

S — STAMINA . . . how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

As mentioned before, this man is a superpowered alien with incredible strength and physical abilities, which means his stamina is out of this world (literally). He can go for unlimited rounds, as much as you want he will give. The limit does not exist. This also means he can last for a very long time, because of this he will only cum after you—he’s a gentleman like that. 

T — TOYS . . . do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

You both own a couple of them. Yours are from before meeting him, whereas his are after meeting you. He thinks it’s a nice way to spice it up, it isn’t anything too crazy but it brings a nice variety to the bedroom. He mostly likes to use them on you, though he won’t complain if you ever want to use one on him. One might say he looks forward to whenever you come home with a new toy to try on him. 

U — UNFAIR . . . how much they like to tease!

Clark is very fair, actually. He would say you’re the tease in the relationship. Always grinding against him, touching him in a way that is almost inappropriate in public, or kissing him for a beat too long. In fact, you’re PDA menaces. Anything you want, he will give. He wastes no time teasing, you even once called him out on his borderline desperation and he only laughed. He doesn’t mind being desperate when it comes to you. 

V — VOLUME . . . how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

He’s very loud. A moan always slips out when he finally thrusts inside you, grunts and groans leaving his mouth almost incessantly. He will even whimper when you grab his cock and stroke him, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your touch. He has no shame when it comes to the sounds he makes, he’s very grateful that the walls of your apartment are thick or he’s sure a noise complaint would’ve arrived by now from one of your neighbours.

W — WILD CARD . . . a random headcanon for the character!

He uses his x-ray vision to see just how deep he is inside you. Clark knows he’s huge, he doesn’t need the vision to tell him that, but there’s something so arousing about seeing it. The first time he did it, he gasped and you—knowing about his powers, because of course he confessed to his secret identity the second you became boyfriend and girlfriend—realised instantly what was going on. He then pressed on your stomach, and pointed out exactly just how deep he was. It was a bit scary at first, but it was a fleeting feeling because he was hitting all the right spots, so the only thing you really felt or cared about was pleasure. So, if Clark wants to use his x-ray vision, you will not mind.  

X — X-RAY . . . let's see what's going on under those clothes!

He’s huge. Everything about him is, why would his cock be any different? He’s about 24cm or 9 inches. It’s an absolute beast, it took months before he could bury himself to the hilt. Not to mention he’s also incredibly girthy. All in all, Clark Kent is packing a strong punch. Perhaps that’s why he allows himself to be vanilla, there is nothing else he really needs but his cock to drive you crazy. 

Y — YEARNING . . . how high is their sex drive?

Incredibly high. He is down to have sex anywhere, anytime. Clark’s a yearner through and through. In fact, one of the hottest things about him is how down bad he is for you. You’re horny in the middle of your dinner date? Don’t worry, he’s making a beeline for the bathroom. He gets home from work and you basically jump him as soon as he enters the apartment? He’s pressing you impossibly closer, legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He cannot get enough of you. 

Z — ZZZ . . . how quickly they fall asleep after sex!

He falls asleep as soon as you do. He waits for your heartbeat to steady, your breathing evening out as you fall deep into dreaming. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you into him, and then he allows himself to relax and fall asleep, too.

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

Brat

Clark Kent x brat!reader

Masterlist : taglist

Summary: Clark isn't paying enough attention to you so you piss him off by reading mean tweets about Superman

When Clark puts a pillow under your hips to prop your ass up, you can feel him rock hard against your thigh. You peer over the couch, looking at the tweets open on LX. “Wish Superman had a curly girl hair routine so I didn’t have to look at his frizzy ass hair every day on the news.” That about sent Clark over the edge.

Warnings: Established dom/sub relationship, spanking, hair pulling (reader has hair you can pull), reader being a brat, general rough sex, Clark being a little mean but not really.

Graphics by @strangergraphics

2.5k words

Shout out Toxy bc we joked around with this concept earlier this week!

Please reblog if you enjoyed, it's important to spread work!

He wasn’t paying any attention to you, that was annoying. He should’ve known that you were going to cause problems.

You were supposed to stay by his side, be there for his large hand to stim with your hair or for you to nuzzle, little reminders of who he does it all for. There was the truth, that mattered to help; reporting on things people wanted to sweep under the rug, justice for those who had no one to fight for them. He liked being that person. But the long hours, the meetings, the work to get better pay? That was for you.

And right now, you were pissing him the fuck off. 

Clark looked down at the floor with glare. “This is only going to take longer if you keep distracting me.”

You looked up at him innocently, little skirt splayed around your knees as your lashes batted. “What do you mean?”

“You aren’t supposed to be licking me.” He squeezes some hand sanitizer on his hands and gives them a rub. You start salivating watching them. “You know I have a thing about germs.”

“Germs didn’t bother you when you had your tongue up my a-”

“Langauge!”

A

from his Outlook tab and Clark checks his email before sighing. “I have to get on Teams for a video call, do I need to put you in the bedroom?”

“No!”

“Are you done being a brat?”

You frown at him, cross your arms, and pout. “Yeah…”

“Hey.” His voice is stern, taking your chin in his massive hands and he forces your face up. “Look at me when I ask you a question.”

You straighten up, proper posture, hands on your lap and look at Clark’s bright blue eyes, “Yes sorry, I’ll be good.”

Clark smiles, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Good girl. I won’t be long, promise.”

But it felt like foreverrrrr!!

You start getting restless and crawl under the desk, eye to eye with his blunge. ‘It’s looking at me!’ You smile to yourself.

Clark set up the desk as your little safe space, a place you could go in sub space when the world was too overwhelming and Clark couldn’t be there to take care of you. You had soft fairy lights and some cushions and blankets- great for when Clark is out on a story or superman work and there’s a storm. All around the sides were pictures that made you happy. Your favorite animal cut out of national geographic, song lyrics you liked and of course blorbo from your shows. Fanart of Steve and Javi from Narco’s kissing that Clark bought you. And yes, pictures of Clark and Superman. All decorated with stickers Clark gives you when you behave, like ‘Good job!’

Still, despite your sub space, you were not fucking feeling floaty. You stared, pouting, at the blunge across from you, stewing about how he was withholding his dick from you, how unfair it was, and how he was being a big meanie.

Clark’s head pops down to check on you. “I can hear you stewing from here, little girl.”

You blew raspberries at him and his brow furrows. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’m gonna blow Jimmy.”

By the look on his face, you were gonna get it good.

Clark went back to talking to his team, something about Luthercore and offshore accounts and blah, blah, blaaaaaah. Oh my gooooood.

You get on your knees and start palming over his cock. Clark jumps so hard the knees of his long legs hit the desk.

“Shoot!”

‘Jesus Clark, you okay?’ Lois’s voice on the other end.

“Yeah, ehem…” He clears his throat and tries to regain his composure. “Uh yeah, there’s just, I’ve got a pest problem in my apartment.”

‘Jeez, better get your landlord to get pest control or something.’

“Yeah, thanks Jimmy… I’ll get on that. Anyway.” Clark lightly poked you with the toe of his shiny shoes. You wondered if you could get them somewhere dusty…

The meeting went on and on, and it seemed they weren’t even talking about work anymore! They were laughing! You wanted to laugh! It wasn’t fair! He never lets you meet his friends! Now would be a great time to introduce you- you looked cute, it would be on zoom or teams or whatever the fuck so it was low presure. Then next time you can join him out to dinner with them or to a work party and maybe Lois would remember your name or something!

You wanted to bite his stupid thigh.

Instead, you put your face between his stupid legs, take a big sniff

“I’ll be right back.”

Clark muted the mic and turned off the screen, then grabbed your shirt and yanked you out.

“Hey!”

Clark lifts you, carrying you to the couch and plopping you on the cushion. A thick, meaty finger pointed into your face. “Knock it off. I’ll deal with you when I’m done.”

“But you’ll never be done! Never ever! You’ll ignore me and I’ll wither away!” You flop backwards and Clark rolls his eyes. You cover your face with your hands.

 Then, in a soft voice. “Five minutes, max. I promise.”

You peak out through your fingers. “Promise?”

“Promise. But you’re not off the hook for that behavior."

But he didn’t leave the meeting after 5 minutes. It had been 15 and you were scrolling LX (which Clark did not like because it was owned by Lex Luther and kept deleting it off your phone). You wanted to cry, but if you cried Clark would feel bad and you didn’t want cuddles. You wanted to get railed.

It was hard for Clark to fuck you the way you really, really liked. Not that he didn’t pleasure you, no not at all! Clark knew how to make you cum again and again, put you in sub space so nice that you felt floaty and safe, because you were. Safe that is. But sometimes, you just wanted to get fucked within an inch of your life, and Clark was worried his super strenth (or super-massive-cock) would hurt you. You just needed to piss him off enough.

“Superman can’t even fly in a straight line, what do you mean we’re supposed to trust him to protect us?”

Clark stopped mid sentence. He looked over at you, haunched over the armrest of the couch he confined you too. 

“NGL, why does Superman give me pick me girl energy”

“What does that even mean?” He forgot he was on a call.

Jimmy “Do you have someone over?”

Lois, laughing. “Do you have a girl over?”

“I- no-”

“You have a girlfriend!”

Clark started to stutter denials, wounding you. Yeah, sure, you never labeled it… but… you lived with him? He made you a safe space under the desk for nights you were alone and scared? He bought you tampons? You searched for a tweet to piss him off. 

“She’s not my-”

“SUPERMAN HAS A LAZY EYE #SUPERSHIT!!!”

“DAMMIT!”

The group chat erupted with jeers and cheers, people laughing that Clark finally swore, even if it's a relatively minor one. He shut the computer without a goodbye and stormed over to where you laid on your stomach giggling as heavy footsteps thundered towards you, accompanied by the jingle of his belting being rapidly undone. One swift movement and its, off, Clark shouting,

“YOU KNOW THAT ONE SPECIFICALLY IRRITATES ME!”

As you giggle in glee, Clark grabs your kicking legs and pulls you fully on the couch before flipping you over.

“You really peeve me off sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” You grin as he’s angrily shoving down his pants and underwear, fumbling to get them off and get his shoes off and untie his shoes and hopping on one foot. You’re in hysterics laughing at him until he finally gets undressed, bends your leg up, and slaps your thigh.

“Ouch!”

“Not so funny now, is it?”

“It’s a little funny, supershi-”

“What did I tell you about dirtying up that pretty mouth of yours with bad words?”

When Clark puts a pillow under your hips to prop your ass up, you can feel him rock hard against your thigh. You peer over the couch, looking at the tweets open on LX. “Wish Superman had a curly girl hair routine so I didn’t have to look at his frizzy ass hair every day on the news.”

That about sent Clark over the edge. He spent a lot of money on his hair. His hands were on his hips as he stood stark naked. “Now that's a load of ballony.” He grabbed your phone to look. “You know darn well I was voted best hair in Smallville class of-” He saw the LX user handle. Yours. Clark took a deep breathing, messed around on your phone (probably deleting LX again)and setting it on the counter. He looked you dead in the eyes. “You’re really in for it now.”

You laugh, which always pisses him off when he is trying to Dom you. “OoOoOoO I’m so scared!”

A frustrated growl, and Clark was positioning himself on the couch behind you, fingers plunging inside your soaked cunt (so maybe you were playing with yourself a little while irritating him. No biggie.)

“You've been touching yourself without permission?” Clark asked in a stern tone,  two thick, meaty fingers fucking you open.

Okay, so it’s kinda a biggie. “N-no?”

He can only sigh at this point, smacking your stinging buttcheek. Clark decides you didn’t earn getting worked open, and withdrew his fingers, making you whine. “You’re such-” He lined his fat, thick, uncut member up against your puffy lips and thrust right in, splitting you open. “brat, you know that?” Groping your ass over the sore skin, pleasure rolls over you.

“Yeah…” You make your voice soft and sweet, making it seem like you’re learning your lesson but instead you’re smiling into the cushion. “Such a brat.”

A sting breaks out on your shoulder, Clark biting into your shoulder and your eyes damn near roll back in pleasure. It was rare you could get him to unleashed like this on you. He latches on hard, careful not to break skin, but fuck he’s close. When he finally lets go, Clark licks over the indented skin, tongue dragging out slow in contrast to his dick pistoning into you.

Clark growls as he rails into you, the power of his hips snapping into your was overwhelming but still not at his full strength. You mewl, gripping at the cushion as he puts you in prone bone, snapping into your fragile human body. You loved when he let loose, well, as much as he could without breaking you literally. This is what you needed, to feel him skin to skin, body to body, his hot breath against your neck.

“What’s your deal, huh? What’s your issue today?” He pants heavy.

Your frown, pouting your lips and not answering. You tuck your face into the seat, but Clark takes a fistful of your hair to yank you back. “Not so fast, girl.” Clark’s forehead pressed against your temple as he split you open, hips working at inhuman speed to fuck his dick up into your guts, hitting your spot again and again and again.  Through gritted teeth, he demands your obedience. “Why” Clark repeats in a tone that leaves no room for messing around. “Are you acting like this?”

Sweaty bodies entangled on the couch, and you just wished he’d drop it. But Clark, ever the reporter, would not let go of a lead. He kissed the apple of your cheek, then said, in no uncertain terms. “Answer me.”

“You don’t introduce me to your friends! You keep me a secret!”

His motions slowed. His right hand interlaced with yours. “Baby…”

“Noooooo” You whine at the loss of the power. “Just fuck me, supershit.”

“DANGIT!” 

His strong force came again, a large hand splayed between the blades of your shoulders shoving you into the cushions. His other hand bound up both your hands in his, pulling your arms back firmly and safely at your butt. Your body stretched as he worked you open, slamming into you again and again until you were a cumming mess on his cock.

Clark dropped you, pulling out just in time to cum ropes all over your ass, groaning loudly above you as he knelt. When you looked over your shoulder, he reminded you of a God as he stroked his length, peering down at you, a mere mortal. You rolled over and rubbed your clit. WIth him still milking himself all over your stomach, the sight alone of his powerful body deigning to spill his seed on your skin, and a few circles over your sensitive cunt, you cum again.

*

You felt so nice and floaty. A bubble bath, a warm, cozy soak with music playing the unlicensed superman speaker you begged Clark to buy off a street vender. He had mumbled something about supporting small businesses and begrudgingly gave in. Clark, meanwhile, knelt beside you in a white tank top and gym shorts, using a baby washcloth and gentle soap to clean you up. You caught him humming along, but you were still too far in sub space to comment on it. 

He used the cloth to bring water up to your chest and shoulders, allowing the warm liquid to run over all your muscles to soothe you. A candle flickered in the corner, the fancy ones from Michaels that looked like pecan pie. 

“You said you didn’t want to be serious.” Clark’s voice rumbles low and reverberates in the room with the music.

You took a deep breath, but didn’t open your eyes. “Things change.”

“Am I supposed to read your mind?”

“You’re being defensive.”

Clark sighs, letting the washcloth fall to the water as his head drops. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to push anything. You made it clear what you were looking for.” He fishes for the cloth again and resumes the soothing bath. “So I tried to be that. To take care of you, guide you… have some fun together.” Even after everything he’s done to you on every flat surface in the house, you bet if the lights were on you could see a blush. 

“A lot of fun together” You take some bubbles and put them on his nose, which makes him laugh as he wipes them away. The tension is lifted in the room, and you both smile at each other. “Clark,” You giggle. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you things chan-”

“No, no I should’ve asked-”

“No, you were being respectful of-”

Two large (and wet) hands grabbed your cheeks, kissing you hard and rough, finally, finally giving you what you really wanted today. His hand slides down your abdomen, coving your whole cunt with his palm. “Work get together on Friday. I’m buying you a new dress. Gonna show you off.”

Wowowow im happy with this one! I hope you like it!

Please remember to reblog if you enjoyed, its the only way to spread works :))

@maiamore @toxicanonymity @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @clawdee @soggywhore @pedge-page @minispidey @mh073099 @juleshadalittlelamb @smvtwitchmiller @miraclesabound @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

18+ | clark x f!reader x lois

cw: voyeurism, public sex

need lois walking in on clark fucking you real hard in the office after hours and instantly being speechless. mouth agape, jaw dropped as she watches how clark pounds into your poor pussy with a meanness she didn't know clark could have.

you scratching lines into his clothed back, moaning like a bitch in heat while clark groans into your neck as he fucks you hard enough that the sound of your wet pussy floods the empty space.

lois, cheeks and body hot, watches as your legs kick out from where they're wrapped around clark's waist and how your voice raises in pitch and—

a hand unbuttons lois' jeans before it slips into her underwear and lois' eyes cross as she rubs her clit to the rhythm of clark's merciless thrusts.

all it takes is clark rasping, "that's my girl, my sweet girl. are you cumming? are you gonna cum—?" and you nodding helplessly as you cry, "c-cu-cumming!" and lois is gone.

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

Oh I need to be sandwiched between alpha Clark and alpha Lois

anon thank you for receiving my coded messages about alpha!Lois and forgive me for getting carried away with it.

everyone pls send me more alpha!clark thoughts

nsfw content under the cut

a bit of obsessive!clark, threesome

Clark is beginning to think Lois does this on purpose. Teasing you until your face flushes, making you laugh, bringing you gifts like she’s courting you, letting you borrow her jacket so her scent is all over you. After he told Lois he likes you, wanted to court you properly.

“Then do it already.” She’d scoffed.

“It’s not that simple!” He insisted. “I just wanna do it properly, like- like making her feel special. I don’t even know what to get her as a first courting gift.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

So she’s clearly taking it upon herself to show him how easy it could be. Riling him up. She knows how sensitive his nose is, what it does to him to smell another alpha on you.

Then you disappear. Clark thinks, at first, that maybe you just took a day off, maybe you had a dentist appointment or something. But Lois isn’t in the office either, hasn’t responded to his messages. When neither of you come back the next day, he can’t help himself, he looks for you, uses his superhearing to eavesdrop on your chatty coworker, hoping she’ll blab about where you are.

“-I mean, I get it, you have to take your heat days off, but it just gets to a point of like- if your heats last a week then take freakin’ suppresants! Don’t dump a week’s worth of work on m-“

Clark takes his lunch hour right then and there, tells Perry he’ll work from home the rest of the day.

He finds your scent and follows it, thinking it’ll lead him to your apartment, and instead he finds you at Lois’s.

He doesn’t have to knock on her door, easily finding the hiding spot for her spare key, and then he’s hit with the smell of you, intensified and combined with Lois’s domineering scent, swimming in his head and nearly knocking him on his ass.

“Clark?” He hears your breathy whimper of his name, calling out to him from the bedroom.

He finds you there, sitting with your back to Lois’s chest, legs bent and splayed open. Your head falls back to rest on Lois’s shoulder, pleading mewls falling from your mouth as Lois pumps her fingers in and out of you, her thumb swirling your clit.

Clark falls to his knees at the sight. Can’t tear his eyes away from the stretch of you around just two of Lois’s fingers, the smell of your slick so heady he swears he can taste it-

“We’ve been waiting for you to join us,” Lois practically purrs, her pupils blown. “Took you so long.”

“Missed you,” You mumble while your hips rock in tandem with Lois’s fingers, your fists clenched in the sheets.

“‘M here, omega.” His voice is barely above a whisper. He crawls across the floor to you, climbing onto the bed and smearing his lips against yours, desperate to taste you and feel your tongue against his.

Then Lois grabs his face with her free hand, practically squishing his cheeks and turning his face towards her, their lips meeting in a smear of spit. He hears you gasp as Lois curls her fingers inside you, hears the gush of slick as you cum around her, both him and Lois moaning against each other’s lips.

“You’re so sensitive, omega,” Clark’s voice is raspy already, humming fondly when you reach to tug off his suit jacket.

“Not gonna get tired, are you?” Lois coos, and you shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause we still have to see how you take both our knots at the same time.”

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

18+ | clois x f!reader

lois sending clark a picture during the work day and clark instantly choking on air when he opens it.

the picture is of your sore cunt, drenched in slick and lois' two fingers are spreading it wide to reveal your gaping hole.

i slapped it a few times, and she soaked through the sheets 🤭 is the message that is sent with it.

clark stares and stares at the picture, his breathing deepening and his cock swelling in his pants as he imagines the scene. you crying, cumming fiercely as lois slaps your cunt raw, with enough force to make you wet the sheets and mattress. lois would have cooed, playfully scolding you for making such a mess as she rubs at your clit to push out a bit more juices from your sopping hole.

clark swallows, his eyes zooming in how lois has you spread wide open. and how he immediately thinks about how he'd stretch you wider, filling you deep until your legs kick up from around his waist. and how his cum would look pouring out of that used cunt, making a futher mess he'd clean up with his tongue...

"clark, where're you going?" jimmy asks, confused as he watches clark shoot up and grab his stuff. his jacket is conveniently covering his crotch, his cheeks a bright red as he slings his bag over his shoulder.

"not feeling well. please tell perry, thank you jimmy," clark says quickly, before he's rushing out to head home, trying his darnest not to break out his super speed.

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

MDNI, +18 smut, unprotected sex, not really descriptive but still smut… not proofread yet

SCOTT MILLER is mean, but not fully heartless. believe it or not, there’s something within that grumpy behaviour he shows, the careless ways of dealing with people as if he’s too good to care about anyone. nothing like a warm pussy to get him a little less high and mighty. yours, preferably. no, it’s not like he goes all soft with you just because your cunt squeezes him perfectly, but you see the façade he tries to keep fading, even if just for a moment — when he’s too fucked out to care, you see the man in him and god, you love it. it’s more easy to see it when you’re on top rather than beneath him, when it’s you in control — or the idea of it, because he never really let you have control. it’s his to have, not negotiable.

but it’s when you’re riding him that you see him folding in a way that makes you clench tightly around his dick. his lips parted, heaving breaths and groans leaving his lips no matter how much he tries to hold them back, eyes half lidded but never closed, always locked on yours because he needs to see you. behind his dark blown pupils, you see he’s there… pussydrunk enough to let out a few quiet moans and praises. “fuck… feels so good. taking my cock like no one else ever did—“ and you moan at the selfish feeling of being the only one to do it to him. it gets you brave enough to bury your face into his neck bite on his skin, and that gets a moan out of him. a proper one. by the way he cursed, you can’t tell if he’s angry or pleased with your audacity but the way his cock twitched inside you as you nipped on his neck made you smile for a second. it only lasted a moment before he gripped your face with a firm grip and pulled you away to lock eyes with him, and his eyes are twice as dark. wild, feral even. in his mind, he praises you for your attempt to mark him, it was cute, really… but once again, control belonged to him. time to remind it to you.

you moan his name and he grips your hips tight enough to make you believe he got his fingerprints marked on your skin, pushing his hips up to fuck into you and you struggle to keep eye contact. he notices and moves a hand to your hair, tangling through your soft locks and pulling on it enough to tilt you head back just a little, pulling your face closer to his but not to kiss, just so your breaths could mingle in one and your moans could vibrate against his mouth and he’s smiling smugly the whole time with every broken moan that leaves your lips.

you arch your back, which makes him have you in an angle that is just so fucking delicious, his fat tip kissing on your cervix over and over again. he’s long gone now, muttering nonsense about how you’re the best pussy he ever had, how he’s going to ruin you and keep you crawling back to him time and time again and you’re pissed off because you know he’s right. you will come back. you’ll seek in his eyes the man you swear he is every time he fucks you good, and you’ll take him as he is when you don’t find what you’re looking for.

because truth is, you don’t want to fix him. you want him fucked up, complicated, grumpy and cocky because that’s the man who gets you to cum so hard you see stars every time you two have sex. you want him wicked. maybe you want him to make you feel wicked too. you can’t really decide it now that he’s rubbing your clit and talking you to your orgasm with those degrading praises, calling you his pretty little slut while he feels his balls tightening, and before you can decide if you want him to go or stay, you’re cumming hard and he’s perfectly well with finishing inside you, just this one time.

he holds you down on him while he empties himself deep in you and it’s a clear message — you’re his. and scott is greedy as fuck. be sure it’s not over yet, he had a stressful day.

he’ll rant about some other work stuff and then fuck you again.

a/n: i need this man so much. it’s not funny anymore. idk if someone will actually read this but if you do, hope you know that YES, i feel you. i see you. like, repost or comment if you like this, it’s a little bit silly because it’s my first time writing in a while and english it not my first language but it’ll get better, i promise <3

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

Clark who can't help but lap at your scent glands when the two of you are cuddled up at night. The two of you not a mated pair yet but he can't help himself, licking your glands helps curb the thousand thoughts he's having of his fangs sinking into the gland until he feels the muscle pop under his jaw and you flood his mouth with your scent. Eagerly gulping down every drop that you release.

Licking helps keep his appetite down, but it won't be long until it doesn't.

i am blessed that you all received my coded messages about how badly i want to write about alpha!clark marking omega!reader, so this ask is combined with a few others!

please send me your alpha!clark kent thoughts

nsfw content under the divider!

He never does it around others, he was raised better than that. In public he’s the picture of a perfect gentleman, all chaste kisses and flowers on your desk. He scent-marks you, yes, but doesn’t overdo it, makes his scent on you just strong enough that everyone will know you’re his. In private, however-

His Ma would kill him if she saw him like this. He knows it’s inappropriate, but he can hardly hold himself back. It’s bad enough he can feel his cock stirring every time he even catches a glimpse of you at work. He feels like a mindless knothead every time you wear your hair up or brush it away from your neck, letting everyone see he hasn’t marked you yet. It drives him nuts.

You’re both adults, you’ve discussed your desire to be mated eventually. He knows you’re it for him, can’t imagine a life without you, and vice versa.

Which is why every evening, when he arrives at your shared apartment after a long day of work, he finds you wherever you are in the house, brushes your hair away from your mating gland, and laves his tongue over it like a desperate puppy. Can’t sit, can’t change out of his suit until he’s spent at least fifteen minutes lapping at your neck, holding you against his chest and emitting a low purr, all too happy to have you all to himself again.

At night, when he’s exhausted from the day’s fight or a particularly difficult article, he can’t fall asleep without nuzzling against that spot on your neck, giving it a few open-mouthed kisses.

“Clark,” You whine, squirming against him, your back to his chest. He knows what this does to you, can already detect the shift in your scent, tinged with arousal. “‘M trying to sleep.”

“Then sleep, omega,” He rumbles, smoothing his hand over your stomach, infuriatingly far from where you burn for him. You have no choice but to submit to him, letting him have his fill so he can fall asleep.

But he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last with these little reliefs, how long biting into his own hand instead of your neck is going to curb the desire to mark you as his, forever. He doesn’t want to push you, but you can see how it eats at him; every rut he experiences ends with dozens of bite marks on the backs of his hands, his arms, and on occasion, your pillows. Anything to spare you from the gnawing desire in his chest, the ache in his jaw that is barely relieved from knotting you while digging his teeth into his own skin.

He snaps on a random day.

He has you on your stomach, just how you like it, his entire body covering yours, one hand on your jaw, tilting your face towards his so he can kiss you sweetly while he ruts into you. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, why he feels like he can’t stop even though he knows he’s overstimulating you. He buries his face in your neck, suckling at your mating gland again, but it only makes him more ravenous, smelling you so pure, getting so wet for him, so ready to take his knot.

Maybe it’s the way you smell, like ripe fruit and fresh vanilla, the most enticing thing he’s ever smelled. Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, sweet eyes staring up with nothing but adoration. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s fucking you on your shared bed, on top of sheets you picked out, a room you decorated together, surrounded by evidence of your love — right down to the picture frame that falls off the wall from the force of the headboard slamming into it, a photo of you two asleep on his parents’ porch. He has your life together right between his teeth, and he just needs to bite down.

He’s talking before he even realises it.

“Please, please, please, baby,” He’s mumbling, a rumble from deep in his chest forming as he scrapes his canines against your gland. “I need it-“

“Oh-“ Your gasp turns into a whine, your hand curling around his bicep, nails digging into the skin there. “I- we can’t- Clark!”

“Yes we can, yes we can, sweet baby,” He insists, begs, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “P-promise, we’ll go to the courthouse right after, give you my last name- everything- please-“

He shifts his pace, stirring his hips against yours, because it always manages to hit that spot inside you, always gets you ready to take his knot, he just needs to make you cum like this and it’ll slip right in, he already knows.

“‘M gonna- oh, Clark!” You’re reduced to half-sentences with a single motion, babbling under him. Just that press of his thick knot up against your entrance has you tilting your neck, exposing it, submitting.

“Just give it to me, omega,” He rumbles. “Wanna make you mine forever, I’ll do anything-“

“Please!” You cry out, clenching down around him as your release hits you, sucking him in, and not a half-second later, his knot slips inside you, locking you together physically, and his fangs dig into your mating gland.

Your whole world goes white for a few seconds, your hearing goes fuzzy, and all you can feel is Clark. Even when you start to come down, your vision is blurred, but you register Clark gently retracting his teeth from your neck, careful not to cause too much bleeding, licking over the wound that will soon begin to scar, and- god, he’s still cumming, still whimpering in pleasure as his spend fills you, still moving.

You turn your head towards him, and his lips immediately press to yours, soothing and soft.

“Don’t know what I’m gonna wear,” You mumble to yourself.

“Hm?”

“To the courthouse.”

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

SCOTT MILLER NSFW ALPHABET 𐙚

MDNI 18+

𝓐 . aftercare

depends, but most of the time, big ol' grump isn't giving you anythinggggg after he finishes. if you're lucky, he might rub the nape of your neck slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair, if you're extra lucky, he'll peck your forehead before dashing back to his motel room. but other than that, he’s gone as quick as he arrived.

𝓑 . body part

if you asked him this, trying to joke, he'd probably tell you to shut the fuck up #romantic. but if you begged and pleaded, (and bribed), he'd say, if he had to, on himself would be his forearms. mainly just because he loves how easily he can pick you up, move you 'round. that’s half because of how small you are compared to him, half because his arms really are that massive. on you, he'd spit out a "your fucken' bratty mouth" to which you slap him on the arm, ("be seriousssss scott!") he'd eventually just say your hips. he loves watching you sway them as you walk, mesmerised by the tiny shorts you wear around him.

𝓒 . cum

whilst he loves the thought of finishing inside you, you'll only get that treatment sometimes. scott's not a total romantic, but purely because of how serious he is, he thinks it's 'way too intimate' to be routine for a casual relationship. okay scott. so instead, most of the time he'll make a mess on your tits, your face, your belly, sometimes if he's close, he'll imagine those sights and it pushes him over the line, cumming instantly.

𝓓 . dirty talk

sooooo mean. so so mean. takes it too far sometimes. will call u names, insult how ditsy you are, refer to u as his fucktoy. he can't help it, its not like he's ever talkative outside the bedroom, so unfortunately you cop it all while he's towering above you (you'd never tell him to stop it though). in the moment, he's too fucked out to think before he speaks, words all breathless and drooling off his tongue, but afterward, its not that he'll feel bad, certainly not. never ever. more so just, a little remorseful, thinks maybe he could've at least kissed the corner of your lips after seeing your slight wince at his comments. hm.

𝓔 . experience

ha. have you seen the man? who wouldn't wanna get in his pants!? no but seriously. personality is important!!!! so anyone who's found him hot and wantedddd to tap that has more than likely been turned off by his attitude. you love it tho ;))) still, pretty experienced, but sometimes too vanilla coz he hasn't rlly experimented.

𝓕. favourite position

when he's feeling extra mean, lovessss some rough doggy. holding your hands together behind your back, the slapping sound of him rutting into you filling the room, smooshing your face into the pillow while you drool. loves it. but sometimes, on the occasion so rare if you blink you'll miss it, he cravesss missionary. seeing your face scrunched in pleasure melts him a little. but he'd never admit that. often if he's had a rough day stormchasing, loves bouncing u ontop of him, reclining against the bedhead and watching your tits bounce as you suck him in and out.

𝓖 . goofiness

as if there’d ever be another answer to this. it’s strictly business with scott!!! you’re the exact opposite though, can’t fuck without a million breathless giggles. the only time he’ll even get close to a (somewhat) joke, is if it’s laced with dirty talk, something about breaking the bed or him fully snapping your spine, iykwim.

𝓗 . hair

scott’s a very hygienic man, so trims down there purely for that reason and his own comfort. has to admit though, sometimes he loves the messiness you make when he lets it grow out a lil, the dark patch of hair there wet with your saliva & his cum <33333

𝓘 . intimacy

literally incapable of showing normal human emotion. (telling myself it comes from a place of being afraid of vulnerability….) if you guys are casual, the most you’ll get is a few peppered kisses ‘round your cheeks. if you’re actually dating, he’ll amp it up with time. if there’s one thing he loves, it’s interlacing his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, it makes your chest ache a little with how sickly sweet it is.

𝓙 . jack off

loves it as a stress relief most nights, but doesn’t love so much how his mind won’t let him think of anything but you when he cums. funnily enough, he’s more hesitant about being quiet when jerking off than when he’s with you, so he’ll keep his groans down in his throat and save them for then.

𝓚 . kinks

scott is soooooo possessive, so obsessed with anything to do with marking you. biting purple hickeys down your neck, grasping your hands so tight they go red, &&&& this is where the thought of cumming inside you comes in (hehe) coz he wants his seed to be the only one filling u up <3333 dabbles in a bitttt of bdsm but not extreme, sometimes he loves slapping you, but it’s never that hard.

𝓛 . location

car sex car sex car sex car sex. on the road more often than not, you & scott have gotten pretty good at making room in the backseat of his truck. also heaps & heaps of sucking him off while he drives. arched in the passenger seat, crawling over the center console and resting your head on his thigh whilst slowly kissing his tip. he’ll blame the car accident on you. secretly loves shower sex. if you’d both had a hard day, bodies covered in dust and debris, he’ll run the grimy motel shower steaming hot and guide you in. has to restrain himself from getting too intimate, but godddd he’d love to foam up shampoo in your hair, scrub all the hurt and pain from the day off your lower back. he just can’t. tbf its more so hot, heavy making out under the boiling water, sometimes his cock will brush the inside of your thigh and he’ll slide it in quick, but it’s more emotional than sexual.

𝓜 . motivation / turn ons

loves teaching u a lesson. so if ur teasing him during the day, wearing a top your tits spill out of for his attention, the thrill of being able to punish you that night is what gets him through the day. also seeing you with other guys and knowing they can’t touch you like he can gets him rock hard.

𝓝 . no / limit

doesn’t fw anal. kinda because he just thinks it’s gross & not needed when he’s got your pussy. also doesn’t like any type of roleplay. it’s js not his thing.

𝓞 . oral

….loves receiving wayyyy more than giving #sorry!! comes from his deep down narcissism <3333 his favourite thing in the world is grasping the back of your neck and guiding you down to his cock. obsessed with the way you start by kitten licking his tip and eventually end up gagging with him only half in your mouth. he’ll eat u out as a way of prep before stuffing you with his dick, but that’s kinda it.

𝓟 . pace

if you’re casual, most fucks with him aren’t passionate. he’ll go as fast as he needs to finish, usually meaning that’s his main priority. if you’re dating, he’ll get wayyyy slower and more sensual. instead of fucking into you so fast & hard the slapping sounds are deafening, he’ll opt for more deep, slow thrusts that (arguably) feel waaaayyyyy better.

𝓠 . quickies

efficient & the main option for if ur casual. if ur dating, and really really desperate, he’ll drag you to the closest public bathroom and convince you its totally clean enough, finishing zipping up his pants just as javi knocks on the door.

𝓡 . risk

he’s pretty vanilla tbh. the most he’ll do is some sort of bondage, just because he loves being in control. nothing major, just something like tying your wrists together or pinning your arms to the bed.

𝓢 . stamina

scott’s a pretty fit guy. when he’s got the time, the gym’s a good stress relief, and it hasn’t taken much for him to fill out and build his strength. in saying that, he could go for a good 2 rounds, 3 at most. by the 3rd, his thrusts are sloppy and your body’s gone limp, but he just can’t get enough <3333

𝓣 . toys

if he wants to overstimulate you, he’ll ask to grab your vibrator and use it on you while he’s inside. that’s the most he’ll do, he wants majority of your pleasure to come from him.

𝓤 . unusual kink

LOVES. LOVES. LOVES BITING. can’t get enough. idk if this is unusual but it’s def something he wouldn’t admit. you bite his thick biceps when his cock hits ur sweet spot, trying to conceal your whimpers. you sink your teeth into his chest when he’s above you and soothe the marks with warm kisses and drool. he fucking lovessssss it. sometimes if ur his passenger princess you’ll peel one of his hands off the wheel and place it between ur teeth while he drives.

𝓥 . volume

he's got suchhhhhh a deep voice that somehow drops about 10 octaves during sex. he’s not afraid to verbalise his pleasure but only to a certain extent. he’ll groan low in his throat when u suck him off and you swear you heard him whimper once. but gets off on the fact that ur always soooo much louder than him. he loves hearing how good he makes u feel, and can’t hide his insane cockiness when tyler & his crew mimic you moaning his name (“right there scott! right there-nghhhh!”) making exaggerated, downright pornographic sounds. you forgot how thin those motel walls were.

𝓦 . wild-card

loves it when you smell like each other after sex. whether its your natural scents or perfumes, he's obsessed with the way you linger on his skin long after leaving. bonus points if ur standing next to javi or kate and they ask why it smells like scott's cologne even though he's nowhere near <33333

𝓧 . x-ray / what's goin on in those pants ??

hehe. MASSIVE. sorry but like. cmonnnnnn. at least 9 inches. unnecessarily thick & adorned with veins. cut & keeps everything down there insanely clean (thanks scott!! xx) leaves u bruised & walking funny the next day. belly bulge belly bulge belly bulge belly bulge. !! he loves seeing how deep he hits inside you, and will sometimes cradle the back of your neck, angle it toward ur stomach (you’re too weak to hold it up urself) and show you as he presses on the outline of his tip, bringing your numb hands to feel it too.

𝓨 . yearning / sex drive

since you’d been seeing each other, in every way possible scott doms you. buttttt. he’s just soooooooo needy sometimes ;( he can’t go a day without seeing you, and if he does, even jerking off doesn’t help, nothing does. moving around so much irritates him, but he knows wherever him & StormPAR go, you & the Wrangler’s will follow, it eases his mind a little knowing you’re always within arms reach.

𝓩 . zzz / after sex

if ur dating, he loves falling asleep w u in his chest :(((( keeping u safe n warm in his big strong arms makes his heart flutter. when he’s too tired & spent to pull out, he’ll kiss your nose and ask to sleep with his cock still inside you, to which u always agree. being in his embrace makes up for the scratchy motel bedsheets. sorry to spoil the party but if ur casual, noneeeeee of that!!! nothin. finishes, picks his stray clothes up off the floor while asking you where you’ll be tomorrow, the most he’ll ever say is an awkward small, “see ya” like he wasn’t just inside you. and then he’s gone.

 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 

@weemswife @gabuiii-blog @tightthreaded @keiralovesmoony @nilasinterlude @fitzherburt @tqd4455 @dano-png @reesespieces0610 @disillusioniary @blushhbambi @kayy0612 @sunsetsimpsblog @forrestbrew @junggoku @acdeaky @dykerardway @ynguklvr @missfabulous-boo45 @hearts4hughes @hufflepooooff @nymphethotline @travskilah @yiiiikesmish @hs-is-loml @swagconnoisseur3000 @corensweti @1011008 @lunar-ain @glorybeat @millersdoll @kaysav608 @queenkiszka @adoreyoujungkook @fandoms-are-my-h0me @n3utral98 @dr3thinker @vamptxie

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

kind of sort of need clark making me squirt 🤤

MDNI 18+

CLARK KENT… swears your life’s goal is to kill him.

you stab daggers straight through his heart with that soft, sultry drawl of your voice that drips like honey down his spine.

his airways cut off completely when your silky hands rub the tense knots his shoulders carry after a hard day's work.

his lungs feel weak and his chest punctures a little when you lie atop his broad muscle, bare warm skin stuck to his.

but, most of all, clark kent is entirely sure your pussy will be the death of him.

❥

“fu-golly, baby, didn’-ah! didn’t know you could even be this wet” clark coos in your ear, but he’s almost inaudible over the gushing sounds coming from where you two connect.

you weren’t even sure if it was because you were ovulating or if you were just already this cockdrunk, but something felt different. and clark knew it too.

“neither did-ngh! i. neither did i.” clark’s sudden thrust knocks the air out of you mid sentence, leaving you attempting to suck in just enough oxygen to leave breathy kisses along his jaw and the bridge of his nose, fogging up his glasses in the process.

the familiar rope in your lower tummy was inches away from snapping, your pussy clenching so hard you thought clark’s dick might just snap off. you could tell he was close too, his thrusts sloppy and his breathing panting somewhat resembling a dog in late summer heat. you clawed at clark’s solid arms for support, leaving raw scratches down them and being delightfully met with his low groans at the sting.

“gonna-mm- fill y’up so nice n warm darlin’, all full of me. you wan’ that, baby? hm?”

you nodded furiously, tears streaming down your cheeks as the cool slick of clark’s tongue lapped them away. he well and truly knew you were beyond the point of being able to form coherent sentences, he just wanted to see how far you could go.

as you whined and writhed against the sheets, clark shoved his cock so deep inside your gummy walls you think it genuinely hit your brain. it actually might've. because your vision suddenly clouded and you swear you passed out for a second. if the last thing you saw on earth was clark above you, squeezing his eyes shut, sweat beaded brows knit together, mouth slightly ajar, you’d say that was a pretty good way to go out.

but you were still there, barely. your eyes were stuck together with crusted tears as you blinked, trying to lift your head up, trying to maybe stimulate some, any, sort of movement in your spent body. your heaving chest was in the way of your viewpoint, and you didn’t have even half enough energy to prop up on your elbows, so clark scooped your neck into the rough of his palm and held it up for you, aiming directly at the heavenly sight laid before your hooded eyes.

if you hadn’t gotten brain damage before, you sure had now.

he hadn’t just made you cum, you squirted all over him.

all. over.

his cock, still half in you, was drenched in your sticky liquid. not only that, but the dark hair that dusted his lower abdomen was also slick with your juices. his abs, dripping with you, tensed and relaxed with his unsteady breaths. and somehow, it had reached all the way up his chest, the slight patch of hair there curled with a mix of his sweat and your fluid.

your pussy subconsciously clenched at the sight, and you flinched at the sudden feeling of his warm cum spilling out you and sliding down your ass.

“holy-gosh. sweetheart, m’ so proud of you, so-hmmph- proud.”

you weren’t even sure what planet you were on right now, so instead of trying to muster up words, you brought your shaky hands to clark’s flushed cheeks and guided his head into the clammy crook of your neck.

mouth squished into your collarbone, borderline drooling, clark left you with an airy, “gonna need you to do that again baby. every. breath damn. breath time.”

you kissed his forehead in reply, restraining yourself from blurting out the 𝓁 word and making a fool of yourself. you weren’t sure if he loved you back yet, but no man had ever made you do that before, so you closed your eyes and dreamt on the hope that clark kent was as utterly enamored with you as you were him.

@cleoy2k @timidquindim @cupidai @darthelvain @yeaiamme2 @weemswife @povdying @ahoessecrettxx @nilasinterlude @fitzherburt @celestialend @vigilantexreader @sunsettsam @benbarneswifey @spookyfunhottub @corensweti @idohknow @nan-nie

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍 [C.K]

slightly dark clark!• devoted christian clark• fem reader (church girl au)• blurb smut• religious guilt• adultery themes• obsession• age-gap (clark early thirties/reader is early twenties)• dark thoughts• clark is not so holy(neither am I fr)•

notes:my gift to you <3 it’s wayyy past my bedtime as I write this out (swear it’s the best time for me when I decide to write )

church is, as usual, crowded. and service has barely started, and already he can’t focus. as usual. his eyes can’t seem to stop flicking over to you in the pew, hands tightening around the hymnal. he swallows thickly, admiring you.

it wasn’t always like this. this obsession started months ago—he remembers when your family first moved into smallville, your parents, two twin brothers, to be away from the ‘toxic city life’ as your mother describes it . neighbors had been buzzing about them for weeks, excited to see new faces. of course, clark and his parents, along with his wife and little jon kent , didn’t hesitate to show some good hospitality. which eventually led to a good wholesome strong friendship. clark had heard your name mentioned plenty of times in conversations with your parents. she’s away at college, studying hard, I’m sure yall will get to meet her soon. he hadn’t given it much thought back then. only thinking just another young woman chasing her future.

until seven months ago.

until the sunday morning you showed up, home again, and taking a break from that college lifestyle,sliding into the pew with a smile so pretty that it’ll even make the devil—himself swoon. it was the first time he’d ever actually saw you. but it was also the last time his thoughts felt clean.

because since then, clark has become restless. watching the way you carry yourself, a quintessential sweetheart, with a radiance so naturally alluring. a woman who is impossible to ignore. always with your family, playing make believe with your brothers, helping your mother with dinner whenever they’d invite them over. his parents adored you and even lois complimented you on your infamous peach pie last week. to which you bashfully gave credit to your father who went out to fetch the ingredients last minute. so unpretentious.

but no matter how wholesome, no matter how much he tried to remind himself of his wife’s hand on his or jon’s giggling in the back of the pew with your twin brothers during service, you had carved yourself in his mind permanently. as if you were a scripture he couldn’t forget.

and still, despite the closeness of your families, despite the eyes of god staring down at him giving him a “what the heck!?” look. he couldn’t stop the way his mind wandered, imagining what it would feel like to have you in many ways, in different positions he has no right to think about.

but it’s not like you make it easy for him not to, like today.

your hair is styled just right, showcasing your pretty features, the faint curve of your lips when you hum along to the choir—sinful, he thinks, so sinful. speaking of—the dress you were wearing almost made him lose any train of thought during service. it’s modest, appropriate for church, and yet it hugged your curves in all the right places. because no matter what you wore, nothing could hide the fullness of your figure, the way your hips showcased beautifully, and the not so subtle shape of your gorgeous ass beneath the fabric.

he clears his throat, lifts his gaze, and began to recite aloud:

“blessed are pure in heart, for they shall see god.”

his words rang accurate for the congregation, but in his mind, pure doesn’t describe him at all. he could feel your soft eyes on him, out of all the gazes from the people in the room your gaze is the only one he wants.

focus, clark. god, please give me the gift of focus .

but he doesn’t. not really anyway. every word he is reciting echoes hollowly in his head, because all he can imagine is you leaning forward, the gentle breezy smiles you flash his way.

“blessed are a meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” he can barely finish the line when a brief thought of what it will feel like having you as his wife, the mother of his children—making those children— crosses his mind and he immediately hates himself for it. his stomach twists with guilt.

prayer. prayer. prayer. I need prayer—along with some holy water. he prays silently, wishing these thoughts would just vanish. wishing he could feel somewhat pure again. but every time he glances in your direction it’s like fuel on fire, with too much desire. he’s a sinner, a married man with a good, loyal wife just waiting a few pews away along with their son , but still his selfishness craves you.

service ends. the hymnals closed, and the congregation headed toward the after-service table. you’re there as always with your infamous, peach pie in hand. chatting quietly with lois and the others. being so sweet, and so good. the guilt is unbearable and thick in his throat as he forces himself to look away as you coo at jon’s messy drawing .

he prays silently, whispering every verse he could think of in that moment, but it’s useless. he’s feigning for something he knows he shouldn’t want. and the thought of his wife and child , should slap him back into reality—but instead it sharpens his ache for you. every sinful thought is getting louder than doing what’s right.

after everything trickles out, and majority of the food had been wiped out, his wife, lois steps over to him, with a small grin and places a chaste kiss on his lips. he wished he could say that he didn’t feel disappointed knowing that it’s not your lips. “another beautiful service, clark.”

he nods absentmindedly, lips moving to thank her, but of course his eyes aren’t on her at all they’re on you, gathering your things, hips swaying slightly his hands tightens around lois’s waist wishing they were yours as she rambles on about her day. clark can’t seem to find his focal point, every fiber of him rebels. every word lois says is background noise, he can’t hear her. he can only focus on his anticipation of you walking up to him like you always do at the end of service, with an extra piece of pie just for him and the smell of something sweet—maybe the pie? or is it just you?

luckily your mother— distracts lois, giving him moments to breathe as they chatted about her plants and the local animals are terrorizing her garden.

then you’re at the pulpit, soft steps echoing slightly against the wood floor, due to your cute kitten heels. your hands hold the pie holder which was empty. “sorry, no extra piece today.” you murmur, disappointedly. you looked so cute with a pout. he steps closer to you just to get a whiff of the faint smell of baked peaches and cinnamon. intoxicating.

“it’s okay,” he breathes out. he wants to say much more,tell you how gorgeous you look, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you since the service began. but the words choke in his throat.

“I can bake another one,” you said softly, voice warm and slightly teasing. “I could bring it later today…just for you.”

clark nods. just for me. he bit back the groans that were threatening to escape. “ill…ill be home all day,” he whispers, barely audible, and heavy with desire. every sinful thought creeps back into his mind, hotter than ever and burning behind his blue eyes.

it finally happens.

a promised pie turns into a knock on his door. lois had errands to run. jon was tucked away in his room with your younger brothers, laughter from their play date spilling faintly through the walls. you were supposed to just drop off the pie and stay a awhile while the boys played . simple and safe.

but now?

..now you are bent over the kent’s kitchen table as it rattles beneath you. the half eaten peach pie slid inch by inch toward the edge, but neither of you cared. especially clark who was gripping your hips so tight his knuckles were bone-white.

his curls were damp, sweat-filled, sticking to his forehead and temples. his glasses were tucked in his breast pocket, leaving his blue eyes bright and wild. He was still fully dressed as were you.

the dress—the same freaking dress you wore to church that morning—was bunched up around your waist. the modest cloth that teased him all morning was now hiked indecently high, giving him everything he’s ever dream about. his eyes couldn’t look away and he’s glad that he didn’t because the hem of your dress, exposed not just the swell of your hips and the arch of your back, but the ink sprawled low across your skin. a flower vine, winding horizontally. a tattoo. a secret. ah, you dirty girl.

“jesus christ.” he whimpers, hips slamming forward harder, deeper and sharp enough to jolt the table. his hand spreads over the tattoo, thumb tracing the curling lines while his cock twitches inside you. “you—fu-fuh—fuck!“

oh jeez, you’ve got him cursing now..

he was utterly wrecked. torn between awe and filth, he was obsessed already but this? just ignites his fire even more.

“got a little mark just for me, huh?” clark rasped, his voice low and deep just like his cock. though he knew you probably couldn’t respond, pretty sure you couldn’t think straight enough to respond. “no one sees this. hiding it underneath those little church dresses. no one but me? I get to see it just like this.”

his curls brushes against your skin as he groans, forehead pressing on your shoulder, teeth gritted as he tries to keep quiet. being somewhat mindful that his son and your brothers are upstairs, and here he was rutting into you like a madman with no shameful sense in his body. every thrust harder than the last.

“cl-clark!” you gasped, your voice high and breathless. his hand immediately shot up, covering your mouth, smothering the sound before it reached beyond the kitchen walls.

“shhh, “ he soothes, voice ragged and hot against your ear. “ don’t—don’t let them hear. don’t you dare, sweetheart.”

even though he enjoyed those little heavenly sounds leaving your lips, the very last thing he wanted is to have three seven year olds walk in on you two like this with one being his son. he’s being a piece of shit right now but he wouldn’t be that kind of piece of shit.

and yet he doesn’t slow down. the table rattles louder and if your moans won’t bring any attention that surely will. too risky. clark stills, chest heaving and you whimper at the sudden stop. his hand trails to your stomach, yanking you upright.

“c’mon,” he hissed in a whisper, dragging you with him as you whine at the loss. he hauls you into his lap on the nearest kitchen chair, your back pressed against to his chest, his thick cock buried back inside from beneath your dress.

you inhale sharply, legs trembling as he spreads them wide, caging you in. with one arm locked across your stomach, the other grips your thigh tight, keeping you still as he drives up into you. the position is utterly filthy, and so are the things he’s whispering, things he’ll never say in the daylight.

“bounce for me, sweetheart,” he says quietly, voice filled with restraint . his hand leaves your thigh, slides up the curve of your waist, and then presses flat against the small of your back. the force causes you to arch your back. his hips tilting just right. . almost immediately you reach forward palms gripping the counter in front of you to lift and drop down on his cock frantically. eager. now the chair is groaning beneath you two, every movement threatening to give away the secret filth of what’s happening.

“quiet now… don’t wake the boys.” his warning is more of a plea, breathing hot against your shoulder as his other hand reaches up to fondle with your breast that was spewing out. massaging them gently. almost apologetically, he’ll make sure to give them extra attention next time.

a silent sob burst out of you anyway—you’re absolutely gone— your mouth open against the back of your hand to stifle it, tears of pleasure running down your pretty cheeks. your hair which was in a neat updo is now tragically unkempt, still you look so beautifully wrecked.

and clark—clark wasn’t any better, he’s pussy drunk. on you specifically, your tiny squeaks and sobs, the deafening sound of your wetness squelching the way you thighs quake and your ass—god that ass— slams on him over and over again. every time you expertly grind and bounce on his cock he thinks he’s in heaven. all while your pretty face is crumpling with pleasure.

but all he could see when he angled his head down over your shoulder, was that damn tattoo. the flowers inked permanently on your skin, blooming every time you snapped your hips down.

“god, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he pants, eyebrows furrows as if he’s in deep concentration, and he was, on his cock finally being in the home where it belonged, which was your beautiful tight cunt. intruding it without mercy. “im never letting you go .”

[my-favourite-s-m-u-t]

Bounce, sweetheart

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ blurb - clark kent x bunny!reader

Summary - everyone thinks Clark's petname for you is just sweet—a harmless little bunny whispered across the bullpen. What they don't see is the way how he rushes you home just to strip you down and watch you hop on his cock. And he's determined to keep his bunny stuffed full.

tw - 18+, MDNI, smut, p in v, breeding kink, praise + light degradation, creampie, tit play, size kink, petnames (bunny/bun)

notes - I wanna be his controversially young gf

—Reblog & comments are greatly appreciated

Everyone at the Daily Planet adores you and Clark together. They call you sweethearts, tell you how lucky you are to have found such a gentle giant. He plays the part so well—big smile, kind eyes, always draping an arm over your chair like he's just keeping you close. And when he calls you bunny in that bashful, soft Midwestern drawl, the whole office practically melts.

If only they knew.

Because the second the two of you are home, Clark's got you perched up on his lap, still drowning in one of his soft button-ups, knees on either side of his hips. "You're so cute, y'know that?" he murmurs, sinking you down on his aching cock, groaning at the wet squelch of it. "My dumb little bunny—gonna let me keep you full, huh?"

You squeak when he thrusts up, hitting that spongy spot that makes your vision go white. His hands spread wide across your waist, guiding your body to bounce over him, every movement making his shirt lower on your shoulder. Your tits sway with every hop, and Clark's mouth is quick to catch them—sucking, biting, leaving purple blooms he'll later soothe with kisses.

"Hop for me, honey," he breathes against your skin. "Pretty bunny, made for me to fuck into. Gonna give me everything, aren't you? Let me fill you up until you're stuffed."

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders, trying not to lose yourself to the pace he's setting but Clark doesn't let you rest. He thrusts harder from below, just to see that pathetic look on your face, until your words no longer make sense. He slams his fat tip up your cunt when he finally spills inside, cock twitching, keeping you stuffed to the brim.

"Mm, that's it," he pants, pressing sloppy kisses along your bruised tits. "Stay right there, bun. Don't waste a drop—wanna see it drip." His big hands cradle your ass, keeping you locked against him, his voice dropping low and worshipful. "Gonna fill you again and again until you're breeding out a litter."

—requests are opened !