hi there! you can call me syd :)
she/her | mid 20′s | dccu & others
[ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ]
[ａｏ３]
𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌
everything you need to know about my writing & my blog happenings can be found right here! checking this post is always your best bet to know what’s going on around here!!
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𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘
my inbox is always OPEN for requests [david corenswet characters only], general chatting, thoughts & thots, questions, etc.
(any attempts at hateful comments or instigation of any kind will automatically be deleted.)
please be sure to specify what you're sending in when you submit it!! the differences are listed below :)
a request is "formal" and for either a oneshot, blurb, or headcanons.
a thought/thot is just a passing thought or thot (an NSFW thought) that you have that you want to share with me & get my opinion on.
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYBODY ! let’s take this as a reminder that no matter what you identify as, no matter if you’re out of the closet or not, no matter if you’re still questioning, all of you are incredibly loved and i am so damn proud of you.
should I be doing classwork? yes.
am I creating more stress for myself later by writing this instead of doing said classwork? also yes.
worth it, though. enjoy <3
wc: 1.2k
warnings.
SMUT, no use of y/n, implied relationship, cowgirl position bc he likes looking up into your eyes 🥰, interrupted sex except you keep going while he's on the phone oopsie 🤭, kinda silly & playful (not super serious), mutual orgasms, cute ending.
clark kent taglist: @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @kissmxcheek @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @mollymal @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @dreamreaperrr @sullyosully @marymustdie @dadwh0re @pumpkinspicedlove @emergencycontact @alwayslikekath @angelkisscherie
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ ma & pa kent call at an...inopportune time. ✧
"S-Shoot..."
Clark groans softly, his head tipping back for a moment. Both of your hands are on his shoulders, nails digging into his white button-up as you move up and down on top of him. He barely even got through the front door before you were on him, not that he minds.
"Oh, god," you breathe, starting to swivel your hips a bit with each bounce. "You just looked so good today...could barely contain myself..."
He smiles, hands smoothing down over your hips to give your thighs a firm squeeze.
"Really? I couldn't tell."
You chuckle, replaying the memory of you pulling him into a hall closet today at the Daily Planet for a quick make-out session that may or may not have involved teased him to the point he had to stay behind for a minute to calm down...
"You loved it."
Clark reaches around to give your ass a quick little pinch, which earns him a little surprised gasp.
"I never said I didn't," he says. "I would be a very foolish man to complain about something like that."
You smile, leaning in to kiss him deeply as you begin to speed up your rhythm. He grunts against your lips, leaning up into the kiss. Just when he pulls back and looks up at you, lips slightly parted as if he's ready to say something...
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
"Just ignore it," you hum, nipping his bottom lip, but he's already reaching for it.
"Lemme just make sure..." he manages, looking at the caller ID. "It's Ma."
"Definitely ignore it, then," you chuckle. "You can call her back later."
Guilt flashes across Clark's face. He really hates missing Ma's calls, always worried that something is wrong, since they're getting a little older. You sigh at the sight, slowing to a stop on top of him.
"Go ahead and answer it."
"Are you--?"
"Just answer it, babe."
He nods, giving you a quick peck on the lips before picking up the call, lifting the phone to his ear.
"H-Hey, Ma," Clark says. "Listen, can I call you back in--"
"Clark? Pa needs help with the computer again."
He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. Oh boy.
"Uh," he looks up at you, already apologizing with his eyes. "...sure. I don't have much time but--"
"Hey, Clark, it's Pa. I'm trying to print somethin' out here but it's not giving me the option to print. How do I tell it to print?"
Clark lets out a soft sigh, looking up at the ceiling, not really wanting to look at you on top of him when he's talking to his Pa about computers. He starts to ask some questions, nodding along while Pa talks.
After a couple minutes, you rest your hands on his chest and hum softly, smirking as you begin to shift on top of him, testing the waters. His hand instantly grips your hip, silently pleading you to stay still.
But you're not really in much of a mood to make this easy on him. You're not mad at him for answering the call, not really, but you never said you were gonna stop while he talks...
When you rise up slightly and sit back down, his breath catches and his head immediately tilts forward until his eyes meet yours, slightly widened.
"Don't," he mouths, shaking his head.
You shrug, still smirking as you rise up and sit down again. A shiver runs down his spine at your mischievous smirk, and his hips instinctively thrust up against you, letting out a shaky breath.
"Clark? Clark, you still there? I think I got it saved as a, uh...PDF."
"Y-Yeah," he says into the phone, not taking his eyes off of you. "That's great, Pa. Now go to your desktop...a-and...and open the PDF."
You lean in so your lips are next to his open ear, letting out a soft whine in his ear.
"You're making me so hot, Clark," you whisper, your voice soft but sultry. "I love it when you talk PDFs with me."
He nearly chuckles, biting his lip to keep from making any incriminating noises as his grip on your hip tightens ever so slightly. His focus is slipping and he really hopes Pa won't ask about it, because he doesn't think he can come up with anything convincing as an excuse in his current situation.
"Okay, so I just gotta click the little printer picture at the top and it'll print?"
"Yes, Pa," Clark says in an almost suspiciously breathy way. "You'll p-probably have to select the--"
"Wait, now...which printer is it? Why are there so many to choose from? Do I gotta plug it in or somethin'?"
"No, no, it's wireless."
You chuckle softly as Clark holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, letting out a sigh, looking up at you as if to say save me before talking again.
"It s-should be an Inkjet printer, Pa. Should b-be the only one."
Your walls clench around him and your hand goes to wrap around his free wrist, guide his fingers to your clit, silently pleading for him to touch you. You're so close, rhythm beginning to get choppy and rushed.
His fingers begin to rub quick, firm circles, watching intently as you hold back sounds. He grunts softly when you tighten around him again, hips bucking up to meet yours.
"Fuck," you gasp as quietly as you can, eyebrows knitting in pleasure. "Oh, Clark..."
Clark holds his breath, watching intently as you fall apart on top of him. You feel so good, so hot and tight around him, and he knows he won't be able hold off.
"Pa, I need a sec, I'll be right--"
He clicks the mute button before even finishing his sentence, quickly tossing the phone aside and grabbing your hips, bouncing you on top of him with a deep moan. You gasp loudly, back arching as he moves you up and down quickly.
"Y-You're the worst," he breathes, leaning down to tuck his face against your breasts. "Oh gosh, I'm gonna come..."
You nod, fingers tangling in his hair. It only takes a few more seconds before he's tumbling over the edge, filling you up with a groan while his hips buck up erratically.
Once he lets go of your hips, the two of you simply stay still for a moment, just briefly basking in the afterglow of orgasm. He hums, pressing a few kisses to your nipples and breasts before leaning back with a soft sigh.
His lips tug up into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded as he looks at you, taking in how you look on top of him. It's a view he'll never get tired of.
"Clark? Are you there? Did something happen?"
The soft sound of Pa's confused and concerned voice coming from his phone snap him out of it, and he quickly reaches over to unmute.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," he says, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry, I...h-had to help in the kitchen real quick. Did you find the printer?"
You smile, wrapping your arms around him and leaning forward, tucking your face against the side of his neck as he finishes up on the phone with Pa.
What an amazing man, you think to yourself.
And he's all yours.
(daily planet divider by saradika-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> clark kent masterlist for all of your clark kent needs! <<
should I be doing classwork? yes.
am I creating more stress for myself later by writing this instead of doing said classwork? also yes.
worth it, though. enjoy <3
wc: 1.2k
warnings.
SMUT, no use of y/n, implied relationship, cowgirl position bc he likes looking up into your eyes 🥰, interrupted sex except you keep going while he's on the phone oopsie 🤭, kinda silly & playful (not super serious), mutual orgasms, cute ending.
clark kent taglist: @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @kissmxcheek @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @mollymal @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @dreamreaperrr @sullyosully @marymustdie @dadwh0re @pumpkinspicedlove @emergencycontact @alwayslikekath @angelkisscherie
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ ma & pa kent call at an...inopportune time. ✧
"S-Shoot..."
Clark groans softly, his head tipping back for a moment. Both of your hands are on his shoulders, nails digging into his white button-up as you move up and down on top of him. He barely even got through the front door before you were on him, not that he minds.
"Oh, god," you breathe, starting to swivel your hips a bit with each bounce. "You just looked so good today...could barely contain myself..."
He smiles, hands smoothing down over your hips to give your thighs a firm squeeze.
"Really? I couldn't tell."
You chuckle, replaying the memory of you pulling him into a hall closet today at the Daily Planet for a quick make-out session that may or may not have involved teased him to the point he had to stay behind for a minute to calm down...
"You loved it."
Clark reaches around to give your ass a quick little pinch, which earns him a little surprised gasp.
"I never said I didn't," he says. "I would be a very foolish man to complain about something like that."
You smile, leaning in to kiss him deeply as you begin to speed up your rhythm. He grunts against your lips, leaning up into the kiss. Just when he pulls back and looks up at you, lips slightly parted as if he's ready to say something...
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
"Just ignore it," you hum, nipping his bottom lip, but he's already reaching for it.
"Lemme just make sure..." he manages, looking at the caller ID. "It's Ma."
"Definitely ignore it, then," you chuckle. "You can call her back later."
Guilt flashes across Clark's face. He really hates missing Ma's calls, always worried that something is wrong, since they're getting a little older. You sigh at the sight, slowing to a stop on top of him.
"Go ahead and answer it."
"Are you--?"
"Just answer it, babe."
He nods, giving you a quick peck on the lips before picking up the call, lifting the phone to his ear.
"H-Hey, Ma," Clark says. "Listen, can I call you back in--"
"Clark? Pa needs help with the computer again."
He runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. Oh boy.
"Uh," he looks up at you, already apologizing with his eyes. "...sure. I don't have much time but--"
"Hey, Clark, it's Pa. I'm trying to print somethin' out here but it's not giving me the option to print. How do I tell it to print?"
Clark lets out a soft sigh, looking up at the ceiling, not really wanting to look at you on top of him when he's talking to his Pa about computers. He starts to ask some questions, nodding along while Pa talks.
After a couple minutes, you rest your hands on his chest and hum softly, smirking as you begin to shift on top of him, testing the waters. His hand instantly grips your hip, silently pleading you to stay still.
But you're not really in much of a mood to make this easy on him. You're not mad at him for answering the call, not really, but you never said you were gonna stop while he talks...
When you rise up slightly and sit back down, his breath catches and his head immediately tilts forward until his eyes meet yours, slightly widened.
"Don't," he mouths, shaking his head.
You shrug, still smirking as you rise up and sit down again. A shiver runs down his spine at your mischievous smirk, and his hips instinctively thrust up against you, letting out a shaky breath.
"Clark? Clark, you still there? I think I got it saved as a, uh...PDF."
"Y-Yeah," he says into the phone, not taking his eyes off of you. "That's great, Pa. Now go to your desktop...a-and...and open the PDF."
You lean in so your lips are next to his open ear, letting out a soft whine in his ear.
"You're making me so hot, Clark," you whisper, your voice soft but sultry. "I love it when you talk PDFs with me."
He nearly chuckles, biting his lip to keep from making any incriminating noises as his grip on your hip tightens ever so slightly. His focus is slipping and he really hopes Pa won't ask about it, because he doesn't think he can come up with anything convincing as an excuse in his current situation.
"Okay, so I just gotta click the little printer picture at the top and it'll print?"
"Yes, Pa," Clark says in an almost suspiciously breathy way. "You'll p-probably have to select the--"
"Wait, now...which printer is it? Why are there so many to choose from? Do I gotta plug it in or somethin'?"
"No, no, it's wireless."
You chuckle softly as Clark holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, letting out a sigh, looking up at you as if to say save me before talking again.
"It s-should be an Inkjet printer, Pa. Should b-be the only one."
Your walls clench around him and your hand goes to wrap around his free wrist, guide his fingers to your clit, silently pleading for him to touch you. You're so close, rhythm beginning to get choppy and rushed.
His fingers begin to rub quick, firm circles, watching intently as you hold back sounds. He grunts softly when you tighten around him again, hips bucking up to meet yours.
"Fuck," you gasp as quietly as you can, eyebrows knitting in pleasure. "Oh, Clark..."
Clark holds his breath, watching intently as you fall apart on top of him. You feel so good, so hot and tight around him, and he knows he won't be able hold off.
"Pa, I need a sec, I'll be right--"
He clicks the mute button before even finishing his sentence, quickly tossing the phone aside and grabbing your hips, bouncing you on top of him with a deep moan. You gasp loudly, back arching as he moves you up and down quickly.
"Y-You're the worst," he breathes, leaning down to tuck his face against your breasts. "Oh gosh, I'm gonna come..."
You nod, fingers tangling in his hair. It only takes a few more seconds before he's tumbling over the edge, filling you up with a groan while his hips buck up erratically.
Once he lets go of your hips, the two of you simply stay still for a moment, just briefly basking in the afterglow of orgasm. He hums, pressing a few kisses to your nipples and breasts before leaning back with a soft sigh.
His lips tug up into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded as he looks at you, taking in how you look on top of him. It's a view he'll never get tired of.
"Clark? Are you there? Did something happen?"
The soft sound of Pa's confused and concerned voice coming from his phone snap him out of it, and he quickly reaches over to unmute.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," he says, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry, I...h-had to help in the kitchen real quick. Did you find the printer?"
You smile, wrapping your arms around him and leaning forward, tucking your face against the side of his neck as he finishes up on the phone with Pa.
What an amazing man, you think to yourself.
And he's all yours.
(daily planet divider by saradika-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> clark kent masterlist for all of your clark kent needs! <<
*pops head in*
heyyyyy, happy sunday! I'm absolutely drowning in summer classwork, but inspiration struck and I had to get this out for my lovely friends! thanks for sticking with me and I promise I'll try to keep popping in with short pieces whenever inspiration comes <3
wc: 853
warnings.
SMUT, semi-public sex, use of the nickname "kid" (only at the end), quickie, dirty talk, creampie, reader is not allowed to cum (oop).
scott miller taglist: @jam1esl0v4 @sullyosully @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @pettymaryshelley @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @marymustdie @dadwh0re
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ private jet bathroom sex with scott miller. ✧
Bathroom. Now.
It’s a simple enough text, straightforward and without any flourishes. Just like its sender.
Some of the company stakeholders had given you, Javi, Scott and the rest of the team access to a private jet for the trip to Oklahoma for the upcoming chase. It’s nice, really nice, and perhaps most importantly, the bathrooms are private.
At least, to Scott, it was the most important thing. He doesn’t get to see you as much in the off season, except when you come in to the office every now and then, and it’s usually only for a meeting. He has been hungry for you, eager to see you, and now he has his chance.
Plus, who doesn’t want to join the mile high club?
You sigh as you get up and head back to the bathroom. Before you can even pull your phone out to text, the lock clicks, and you look around for a moment before slipping inside.
He’s on you the moment the door is yanked closed and locked again, his hands gripping your hips firmly, mouth latching to your neck. His teeth scrape against your skin and you shudder when he lets out a soft grunt into your neck, his hips rolling forward slightly.
“Keep that mouth quiet,” he says huskily. “I know that’s something you struggle with, but practice makes perfect, and you haven’t had to practice in a while.”
You huff.
“And who says I haven’t?”
His face falls and his darkening eyes instantly meet yours in the reflection of the mirror. Clearly he didn’t find that idea amusing or acceptable, and you can tell by the way his fingers dig harder into your hips that you’ll pay for that smartass comment later.
He’s right, of course. You haven’t “practiced” with him in a while, and you didn’t sleep with anyone else on the off-season. How could you, when you have someone like Scott, who has all but ruined mediocre guys for you?
Nothing but the best, as he’d say, though you’d never agree with him out loud.
Your front is suddenly pushed forward against the sink and your hands instinctively land on the mirror to catch yourself. He reaches around to undo your pants with a disturbing lack of effort, and they’re pooled around your ankles seconds later.
His belt is undone and his pants are pulled down just enough to free himself. You watch as he gives himself a few quick, rough strokes, his hips already rocking forward against his hand. The sight has you biting your lip, knowing that he probably hasn’t fucked anyone since last time.
Your eyes widen when he lines up and pushes in without hesitation or warning, punching a gasp from your chest. He lets a soft groan slip from between his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move his hips.
Your mouth opens and he immediately reaches forward, putting his palm over your mouth just as a moan slips out.
“Hush,” he says sternly. “Don’t make me shove my fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet.”
That makes you moan, and he smirks ever so slightly.
“I should have known you’d like that. Such a dirty girl.”
His hand comes down on your bare ass cheek just as his hips increase their speed twofold. Your eyes widen, then roll back in your head at the feeling.
“Arch your back,” Scott says, putting one hand on your shoulder and holding firmly. “Mmm…good. That’s it.”
Your body jerks back and forth with the rhythm of his hips, and you let out soft sounds against his palm, unable to help yourself. He chuckles breathily when you moan.
“Mmm…”
Scott’s orgasm is close, you can tell, and you go to reach down between your legs…but he stops you.
“Ah ah ah,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’ve earned the privilege to come.”
Your eyes open and you look back at him through the mirror’s reflection, seeing his smirk widen ever so slightly. He doesn’t say anything, instead increasing his pace until his hips are slamming against your ass.
You try to pull away from his hand, wanting to say something, to beg, but he won’t let you. His cock twitches between your walls and you let out a cry of frustration as he presses his hips flush against your ass with a choked groan.
He sighs, head tipping back as he rides out his high. You squirm beneath him, trying to get some friction to save your dying orgasm, and he just laughs breathily.
Scott pulls out and tugs his pants back up, buckling his belt. You’re still catching your breath, but you turn around to look at him properly.
“Scott…p-please…”
He chuckles, giving your head a little pat.
“Maybe this’ll teach you not to be a little smartass before I fuck you,” he says, smacking your ass one more time. “Take it easy, kid.“
You huff and quickly pull your pants back up, watching as he walks out of the small plane bathroom as if nothing happened.
Fuck…
You already can’t wait until next time.
(divider by firefly-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> my scott miller masterlist for all your scott needs! <<
U have no idea how excited i was to see your notification pop up omg!
you're so sweet!! it's not my best work lol but it was nice to have some creative inspiration again :) hopefully I'll be able to keep posting blurbs here and there, I'm definitely gonna try!!
*pops head in*
heyyyyy, happy sunday! I'm absolutely drowning in summer classwork, but inspiration struck and I had to get this out for my lovely friends! thanks for sticking with me and I promise I'll try to keep popping in with short pieces whenever inspiration comes <3
wc: 853
warnings.
SMUT, semi-public sex, use of the nickname "kid" (only at the end), quickie, dirty talk, creampie, reader is not allowed to cum (oop).
scott miller taglist: @jam1esl0v4 @sullyosully @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @pettymaryshelley @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @marymustdie @dadwh0re
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ private jet bathroom sex with scott miller. ✧
Bathroom. Now.
It’s a simple enough text, straightforward and without any flourishes. Just like its sender.
Some of the company stakeholders had given you, Javi, Scott and the rest of the team access to a private jet for the trip to Oklahoma for the upcoming chase. It’s nice, really nice, and perhaps most importantly, the bathrooms are private.
At least, to Scott, it was the most important thing. He doesn’t get to see you as much in the off season, except when you come in to the office every now and then, and it’s usually only for a meeting. He has been hungry for you, eager to see you, and now he has his chance.
Plus, who doesn’t want to join the mile high club?
You sigh as you get up and head back to the bathroom. Before you can even pull your phone out to text, the lock clicks, and you look around for a moment before slipping inside.
He’s on you the moment the door is yanked closed and locked again, his hands gripping your hips firmly, mouth latching to your neck. His teeth scrape against your skin and you shudder when he lets out a soft grunt into your neck, his hips rolling forward slightly.
“Keep that mouth quiet,” he says huskily. “I know that’s something you struggle with, but practice makes perfect, and you haven’t had to practice in a while.”
You huff.
“And who says I haven’t?”
His face falls and his darkening eyes instantly meet yours in the reflection of the mirror. Clearly he didn’t find that idea amusing or acceptable, and you can tell by the way his fingers dig harder into your hips that you’ll pay for that smartass comment later.
He’s right, of course. You haven’t “practiced” with him in a while, and you didn’t sleep with anyone else on the off-season. How could you, when you have someone like Scott, who has all but ruined mediocre guys for you?
Nothing but the best, as he’d say, though you’d never agree with him out loud.
Your front is suddenly pushed forward against the sink and your hands instinctively land on the mirror to catch yourself. He reaches around to undo your pants with a disturbing lack of effort, and they’re pooled around your ankles seconds later.
His belt is undone and his pants are pulled down just enough to free himself. You watch as he gives himself a few quick, rough strokes, his hips already rocking forward against his hand. The sight has you biting your lip, knowing that he probably hasn’t fucked anyone since last time.
Your eyes widen when he lines up and pushes in without hesitation or warning, punching a gasp from your chest. He lets a soft groan slip from between his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move his hips.
Your mouth opens and he immediately reaches forward, putting his palm over your mouth just as a moan slips out.
“Hush,” he says sternly. “Don’t make me shove my fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet.”
That makes you moan, and he smirks ever so slightly.
“I should have known you’d like that. Such a dirty girl.”
His hand comes down on your bare ass cheek just as his hips increase their speed twofold. Your eyes widen, then roll back in your head at the feeling.
“Arch your back,” Scott says, putting one hand on your shoulder and holding firmly. “Mmm…good. That’s it.”
Your body jerks back and forth with the rhythm of his hips, and you let out soft sounds against his palm, unable to help yourself. He chuckles breathily when you moan.
“Mmm…”
Scott’s orgasm is close, you can tell, and you go to reach down between your legs…but he stops you.
“Ah ah ah,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’ve earned the privilege to come.”
Your eyes open and you look back at him through the mirror’s reflection, seeing his smirk widen ever so slightly. He doesn’t say anything, instead increasing his pace until his hips are slamming against your ass.
You try to pull away from his hand, wanting to say something, to beg, but he won’t let you. His cock twitches between your walls and you let out a cry of frustration as he presses his hips flush against your ass with a choked groan.
He sighs, head tipping back as he rides out his high. You squirm beneath him, trying to get some friction to save your dying orgasm, and he just laughs breathily.
Scott pulls out and tugs his pants back up, buckling his belt. You’re still catching your breath, but you turn around to look at him properly.
“Scott…p-please…”
He chuckles, giving your head a little pat.
“Maybe this’ll teach you not to be a little smartass before I fuck you,” he says, smacking your ass one more time. “Take it easy, kid.“
You huff and quickly pull your pants back up, watching as he walks out of the small plane bathroom as if nothing happened.
Fuck…
You already can’t wait until next time.
(divider by firefly-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> my scott miller masterlist for all your scott needs! <<
I’m definitely going to try and get back to writing soon, I just haven’t felt much inspiration lately and I’ve had a lot going on so my brain hasn’t had much capacity for creativity :(
I thought you all had forgotten me by now :’) but I miss my lovely people so much and I promise I’ll be back soon!! <3
Dirty Little Secret - Divorced!Scott Miller x Reader
Divorced!Scott Miller x Reader
Summary: When your intuition leads you astray during a storm chase, data is lost. Scott, feeling angry and fed up, comes to your motel room afterward to show you exactly how he feels.
Tags: Scott and reader are divorced, NSFW (18+), hatefucking, unprotected pinv, creampie, dirty talk, name-calling, humiliation, Scott's happy trail (obvi), arguing, Scott is a boob guy, nipple sucking
Word Count: 3k
The rain is pitter-pattering against the car in strong, steady droplets. They dot the windshield and collect in the car’s nooks and crannies as you drive along the road. The wind is strong, and you hold the steering wheel steady against it as it whips against the side of the truck. Your brows are furrowed in concentration. You’re focused, locked the hell in, and ready for anything.
“Hit the gas. We’re falling behind,” comes a familiar voice from your right. Your grip on the wheel tightens.
“I’m right behind Javi–”
“You’re about to go uphill, hit the gas,” Scott says again. You glare at him, then press on the pedal and peel ahead down the muddy road.
“Sorry, did you wanna drive instead?”
“I wouldn’t mind it,” he says.
“We both know you’re too anxious for that.”
“I absolutely am not–”
“Shut up, you’re distracting me,” you huff, turning up the windshield wipers and adjusting yourself in the seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Scott shake his head and clench his jaw. “So fucking bossy,” you mutter.
“At least one of us knows what they’re doing,” Scott says casually. You smack his arm.
“Stop talking,” you tell him again. “Can’t fucking see in this rain, I don’t need you in my ear at the same time.”
He says nothing else, instead leaning forward in his seat. Suddenly, the storm up ahead seems to change course. You squint, then blink, then reach for your earpiece.
“Javi,” you say into the mic, “go left.”
“What?” Scott says. “Why would we–?”
“Go left, go left!” you say. Javi’s truck veers to the left, and your heart races in your chest. “It’s moving around. You see it, right?”
“I see it,” Javi says back.
“That’s not enough of a change to make a difference,” Scott says sharply. “You’re gonna make us lose it.”
“I’m not gonna make us do anything,” you say firmly. “I can just tell that–”
“Don’t do that,” Scott talks over you.
“--It’s gonna change course, I feel it–”
“How many times have we done this song and dance?” Scott snaps. “It works less than half the time.”
You say nothing, instead pressing on the gas to stay on Javi’s tail. Scott says your name, sharp and angry.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he says, then reaches for his earpiece.
“Don’t listen to her,” he tells Javi. You whip your head to glare at him. “It’s not moving at a sharp enough angle, the path we were on was perfect–”
“Javi, I’m serious–”
“You two need to pull it together, we’re almost on it. Which way am I going?”
“Right!”
“Left!”
Javi’s truck visibly swerves right for a moment, then suddenly goes left in the direction you suggested. Scott slams his hand against the door of the car as you follow behind Javi.
“We won’t be close enough!” he says. You stare straight ahead as you approach the storm. Javi pulls aside and gets out to drop down the radar machine. You drive along a bit further, then put the car in park and unbuckle quickly. Scott is shaking his head furiously as he gets out, too.
“What’s the matter with you!?” he shouts over the wind as you work together to drop down the radar machine. You glance at him, at his angry face, the bulging muscles in his arms, the soaked shirt clinging to his chest. He gestures behind you. Then, you turn and look back at the storm as Scott announces that Scarecrow is down to Javi.
Your stomach drops.
Damn your depth perception. Damn your gut for misguiding you. Damn Javi for listening to you.
The storm has returned to its original course, and you’re no longer in a good position for it to pass over the radar machine in an effective manner. Fuck. Fuck.
Scott is hurrying back to the car, and you curse under your breath as your cheeks get hot. Javi is talking in your earpiece, saying something about how there isn’t enough time to haul the machines back up and move ahead, that it’ll have to just collect what it collects, that whatever happens it’s okay, that you guys will have another chance. That it’s okay.
You get back into the driver seat and buckle up before pulling away to follow Javi. Scott is shaking his head again. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and when you see the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears have flushed, you clench your jaw. He’s angry. He’s pissed. He’s fucking livid.
“-- and I told you it wasn’t a good idea!” you tune back in as he talks. “You don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone but yourself, you do whatever the hell you want even if it’ll cost us.”
“I get it,” you hear yourself say, embarrassment washing over you.
“Do you? Do you really? That’s what you say every time, I’ve heard it over and over and over.”
Javi talks in the earpiece again as the storm passes. You feel hot and shaky as you drive along, as you move away from the storm and its effects. Scott mutters to himself as he looks at the small bit of data you were able to collect from today’s botched adventure. You tune him out as best you can, but you feel angry – like an exposed nerve being touched every single time Scott says something.
You pull into the parking lot of the motel as the gray clouds move overhead. Scott gets out the moment the car is parked, and he slams the door on his way as he mumbles something along the lines of today being pointless.
Fury swells in your chest, this having been the final straw after a humiliating car ride.
“Say it to my face,” you call after him, getting out of the car and fumbling for your room key. Scott pauses, glancing back at you.
“What?” he asks.
“Whatever you just said. Say it to my face,” you say as the other StormPar cars roll in. Javi approaches the two of you – you, mostly, because he knows you all too well, and he feels badly for putting you with Scott in the first place. If only he hadn’t been working with a new hire, he could’ve ridden with his partner and had him all to himself. Lucky him.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Javi says before Scott can respond. Javi puts his hand on your shoulder. “No one’s mad at you. It happens.”
You don’t take your eyes off of Scott.
“She ruined today’s chase,” Scott says, quietly enough for Javi and Javi only to hear. “Stop babying her, she’s a big girl.”
“Fuck you,” you snap, emotion swelling. Javi steps between you and Scott, blocking him from your vision. He says your name soft and kind. You look at him finally.
“Go calm down,” Javi says to you. “Take a breather.”
You open your mouth to speak, then storm towards your room, key in-hand. You hear footsteps, then Javi saying, “Leave her, man.”
You unlock the door, step inside, slam the door behind you, and lean down to untie your boots. You set them next to the door to dry, then smooth your hands over your hair as you let out a shaky breath. With trembling hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt to undo them and remove it. The talking outside your room has quieted. Five minutes have passed since you snapped at Scott, and you sniffle as you toss your StormPar shirt aside.
Knock, knock, knock.
You startle slightly, then lean up on your tip-toes to peer through the peephole. Anger roars in your gut once more. Of course Scott’s back for more.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“I’m serious,” you warn, reaching for the door handle. You swallow harshly. “I-I’m serious.”
“I know,” he says. “Let me in.”
You yank the door open suddenly, inhaling as you do. You glare at him with eyes that he could get lost in, and Scott takes a step forward.
“Back up,” you say. He doesn’t. “Back up–”
“What is your problem?” he asks.
“My problem? What is my problem? What’s your problem!?” you ask as he steps inside. You close and lock the door behind him. “You embarrassed me in front of Javi.”
“You embarrassed yourself,” Scott says, looking you over and taking in your tear-stained cheeks. “You need to get your priorities straight.”
“Is that what this is? You came here to give me a motivational speech?”
“I came here to tell you that Javi feels bad,” Scott snaps. You pause.
“What?”
“He feels bad for you. You should probably text him and tell him you’re fine.”
You huff softly. Fucking Javi. Poor, kind-hearted, well-intentioned Javi.
“Okay. I will. You can go now.”
Scott says your name, then. It’s low. Dangerous. Riddled with lust. You glance at his crotch, then scoff.
“You’re a fuckin’ freak, you know that?” you say sharply. He takes a step towards you.
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Scott says. “I know you too well.”
“Not well enough,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. When you do, your cleavage is made visible due to the low-cut tank top you’re wearing. Scott takes another step forward.
“You’re an idiot, you know,” he says. It’s got no bite behind it. Your eye twitches.
“And you’re a dick,” you say, leaning back against the wall. “You have some nerve coming in here after the way you talked to me.”
“Maybe,” Scott says, taking hold of your wrists and pinning you against the wall you’re already leaning against. “Or maybe I just know how to get you to calm down. I’m doing you a favor, really.”
“Oh, so I should be thanking you, huh?” you ask, heat blooming between your thighs as Scott’s big hands hold you.
“That’s the idea,” he says. He looks you over hungrily. You are silent for a few moments, weighing your options. You want him, there’s no doubt about that. But you’re also embarrassed, and angry, and absolutely boiling over with the desire to let him have it. You give him a challenging look.
“Make me,” you dare him. Scott smirks, then lowers his head to nip at your throat. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering as his grip on your wrists tightens. He keeps you pinned firmly against the wall and fits his knee between your thighs.
“Mm. You’re warm,” he hums. Your hands clench into fists and you push against him. He keeps you pinned firmly, though, and presses his body against yours.
“It’s summertime,” you manage. Scott laughs at your pathetic attempt to explain away the heat radiating from you.
“Right. I suppose that’s the reason you’re humping my leg, too?”
You still your hips, which you didn’t even realize were moving in the first place.
“I’m not humping you,” you say sharply. Scott takes hold of the hem of your tank top and tugs it up over your head to reveal your breasts, which are nestled in your bra. He unclips your bra and tosses that aside too.
“Mm, lookit these,” Scott sighs, lowering his head to lip and nip at your boobs. You bite your lip and wiggle your hips against him intentionally this time. “So pretty. Best tits I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re easy,” you tease breathlessly. You try to reach for his hair, but his hands are still tight around your wrists. “Let me go. Wanna touch you.”
“Mm mm,” he hums. “So pretty pinned against the wall…”
“Perv,” you sigh as he tongues at your nipple. Scott pulls away after a moment, then begins to unbutton his shirt. You take the opportunity to shoo his hands away and do it yourself, and he smirks softly as you undo the buttons and push the shirt down his arms. Scott tugs his undershirt off, and you touch his pecs as you look him over.
You stare at him shamelessly, taking in the trail of dark hair starting at his navel and continuing down into his pants. You run your fingers along it, humming as you do.
“Like what you see?” Scott asks as he tugs you towards the bed and shoves you down onto it. Your breasts bounce and he tugs your pants down.
“Shut up,” you tell him as you wiggle out of your pants and underwear, leaving you totally nude on the bed. Scott goes to get on top of you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Lose your pants.”
He smirks again.
“And you say I’m the bossy one,” he says as he kicks off his boots, then undoes his zipper and pushes his pants down. You bite your lip when he removes his underwear. His cock is hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip, and you spread your legs.
“You are bossy,” you say as he gets on top of you once more. Scott takes hold of his cock and guides it to your dripping entrance.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Scott breathes as he presses the tip in. You inhale sharply, clenching around him and he grunts. “She’s sucking me in, need it bad, hm?”
You give his hand a tug.
“Stop fucking talking and get in me,” you warn. “Or I can take care of this myself.”
“Aw, don’t be like that,” Scott says as he pushes the rest of the way in. “We both know your vibrator won’t do the trick when the real thing’s right here.”
You hate that he’s right. You hate that he knows it.
“Fuck,” you sigh as he pushes in all the way. You hold onto his strong arms and give his biceps a squeeze. “Move, Scott.”
“I should really make you ask nicely, you know.”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckles, then starts to rock his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, slowly at first then getting gradually faster. You sigh softly, brows furrowing in pleasure. Your hold on him tightens.
“Faster,” you moan quietly. Your breasts bounce with the force of Scott’s thrusts, and you moan sharply when he leans down to nip at your right boob. “Fuck, be gentle!”
“You don’t like gentle,” Scott says. “You and I both know that.”
You moan again when he sucks your nipple into his mouth and lets his teeth graze over you. Your core is soaked and hot and clenching around his cock like a vice, holding onto him like it needs him. Scott knows it, too, and you hate that he does. You hate that he has this effect on you, but the truth is that he understands you in a way no one else does.
That’s what being together for years gets you, you suppose.
Scott says something, but you’re so lost in thought that you don’t catch it. You open your eyes to meet his, which are darkened from lust.
“Huh?” you manage. He chuckles.
“I s-said you should…Fuck…Probably thank me, now.”
Your brows furrow and you roll your eyes. Of course. He wants his ego stroked.
“Why would I do that?” you ask sharply, still gripping his strong arms as he pounds you into the mattress. Each sharp, deep thrust makes his cock rub up against your g-spot, and you grunt quietly at the feeling.
“Because you’re not coming unless you do,” he says. You glare at him.
“Fuck you.”
“Go on,” Scott breathes. His thrusts are getting sloppy, which is a telltale sign that he’s getting close to his climax. “I know you can do it. Be a good girl.”
“D-Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”
Scott’s fingers find your clit, and you gasp at the feeling of him touching you. He rubs your sensitive bud in tight, skilled circles as you groan and wiggle your hips. Your pussy clenches again, squeezing him and making him grunt.
“I’m being so nice,” Scott sighs. “Gonna let you come. Just thank me for making you feel good.”
You throw your head back, teetering right on the edge of orgasm. Your body is hot and tense and ready to explode with pleasure. You cry out, lips parting.
“T-Thank you,” you manage, voice high and needy. Scott kisses you. It’s deep and wet and messy, and you moan against his mouth as you fall right over the edge. Your climax washes over you like a wave of heat, a blanket of warmth. You moan and sigh, tears welling up in your eyes as Scott reaches his own orgasm and fucks his seed deep inside of you.
“Fuck,” you breathe as his hips slow to a stop. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath, and you loosen your grip on his biceps as he stills his hips. His lips are parted, sweat beads at his hairline, and his checks have flushed. You touch his cheek.
Scott hums, then pulls out of you.
“How was that, princess?” he asks, moving back and reaching for his underwear. You roll your eyes and sit up.
“And just like that, I’m all dried up,” you say, still catching your breath. Scott hums as he pulls his underwear and pants on. He buttons and zips them, then reaches for his undershirt. You stare shamelessly as he gets re-dressed. He pulls on his StormPar shirt and begins to button it up.
You should say something, you know that. He humiliated you, made you look like an idiot in front of Javi, but something tells you that now isn’t the time. He looks so handsome and worn-out, and something deep inside of you aches to kiss him once more before he goes.
Scott tucks his shirt in and pulls his boots on, then glances back at you as he starts towards the door.
“Get some rest,” he says. You nod, letting out a soft, tired breath.
“Yeah,” you say.
“Don’t forget to text Javi,” he says, smoothing his hair down. “He thinks you’re in hysterics.”
“Okay,” you say, reaching for your phone. Scott stares at your nude form for a few seconds longer, then reaches for the door handle.
“I’ll see you,” he says, then leaves without another word.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
Author's Note: This is the first installment in my divorced Scott & Reader oneshot series! I'd like to thank @corens0ups for enabling and encouraging me to write this AU over the past few months, and @avastarred for inspiring me with her fantastic Dad!Scott series. I am so lucky :'))
Taglist: @corens0ups @brucesfavebabymama-28 @avastarred @supermanville @whydontyouputyourseatbelton @punyparkerr (Are you interested in joining one or more of my taglists? Please fill out the anonymous google form here to let me know!)
rynwritesstuff - 2026. Do not copy, steal, or repost my work.
I’ve been swimming (more like drowning 😩) in schoolwork and personal stuff, which has completely drained my creativity reserves, hence why I haven’t posted in a while. but, my spring break is coming up and I’m hoping I’ll finally be feeling up for doing some writing! fingers crossed 🤞🏻
I promise that I haven’t forgotten about y’all and I will get around to everything eventually!! I truly miss seeing & interacting with all of my lovely friends on here and I hope you are all doing well (or, at least, as well as you possibly can be) <3
oooooo what kinda kisses do you think scott has preferences for?
ooooo good q…
I think it depends on the day and the situation! He’ll pretend not to like any kisses, but he really does. His secret favorite is stolen kisses at work or in public. He’s not big on PDA, only liking keeping a hand on your lower back or something like that, but when you initiate kissing…he simply cannot resist 😏
But his favorite kind of kisses, by far, are those that happen in the bedroom. Kissing your neck, kissing your jaw, kissing your breasts, kissing your inner thighs…he loves it all. He loves the noises and soft breaths it earns him.
His favorite kisses to recieve are jaw/neck kisses, kissing his abdomen (especially his happy trail hehe), and of course, kisses to his cock ;)
my inbox is open 24/7 so come join in on the fun if you feel so inclined! more details can be found towards the bottom of my pinned post :)
Pairing David!Clark Kent x Female!Reader
Summary You knew better than to tease your husband when he was at work. (Lingerie)
Tags 18+, mdni, smut, masturbation (f), sexting, piv, a teeny bit rough sex, standing doggy, Ragebaited!Clark CrashOutClark, Mutual horniness, Menace!Reader
WC 3.8k
Galentine's #9 by @/wildflowersandvibranium & @/pinksplace | Mrs. Kent Diaries
Clark didn’t lose his temper easily.
Did he get frustrated? Yes. Flustered? Often. Quietly, almost politely indignant? Always. But true, jaw-clenched, restraint-fracturing anger? That was rare.
Kindness was his default. Patience, muscle memory. Self-control came as easily to him as breathing, as sunlight, as knowing the weight of the world and choosing not to let it crush anyone else.
Which was exactly why it was so satisfying to take it apart.
You see, there were a few things in the world that could make Clark Kent absolutely heated. Just a few. And you? You were at the top of the list.
Specifically: you in red-laced lingerie.
You knew the pressure points by now. You’d studied them—committed them to muscle memory. Knew exactly which seams to tug, which smiles to flash, which casual poses made his breath catch just behind his ribs. Knew how to bait a man who could bench press a building, but who still lost every last ounce of composure when you spread your thighs and looked at him like he was the only man in the world.
.
It started small. Always did. You were so generous offering the strongest metahuman the illusion of a fair fight, giving him a few soft warnings before you pulled the pin.
A message waited for him on the bathroom mirror, scrawled in your red lipstick right across the glass, the curve of each letter playful and practiced. Beside it: a perfect kiss-mark, glossy and shameless.
Have a good day at work, babe.
I love you!
A pair of your panties, red mesh, tiny silk hearts stitched along the waistband, was “accidentally” left half‑folded in the sock drawer he opened every morning without fail. You knew that he knew you better than that. You didn’t leave things out by accident.
None of these breadcrumbs were enough for him to fully wake you as he leaned in to say goodbye before work, but it was enough to make him kiss your lips longer than usual. Slow. Lingering. Like a man already bracing himself for war.
You had an inkling that he barely made it out the door.
.
The first photo went out at 9:14 a.m.
Nothing obscene, just enough. You stood in front of the bedroom mirror, Clark’s flannel unbuttoned and hanging loose from your shoulders, sleeves falling just past your wrists, the red straps of your lingerie cutting neat, precise lines across your skin like you were gift-wrapped: bare legs, bare throat, morning light slipping in through the window, and the corner of your smile just visible in the reflection.
You could picture it perfectly: him at his desk like the perfect employee he always was, blissfully typing away on his keyboard, coffee halfway to his mouth. You could see the exact second his phone lit up. The pause. The way his fingers stilled. His eyes flicking downward. The quiet inhale. The shift in posture. His glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose.
You knew the timing. Knew his tells.
The reply came two minutes later.
Clark:
Good morning, my love
You're being unfair right now. Beautiful, but unfair.
Have a good day!
You smiled. He was always so damn sweet.
At 10:36 a.m., the second photo followed.
Same set. Different angle. The flannel was gone now, leaving nothing between you and the mirror but skin and red lace, cut high on the hips and dipping low between your breasts, the sheer mesh hugging your ribs in a way you knew made his mouth go dry. The satin bow sat tidy at the center of your sternum, a little too innocent for what you intended, tied just tight enough to make him wonder if he’d get it undone with his hands or his teeth.
Your thighs were parted, just a little. This time, you added a caption that gave him no room to breathe:
You:
Thinking about how long it’s gonna take you to get this off me.
I knotted this pretty tight.
His response came faster than you anticipated.
Clark:
Sweetheart, you look incredible, but I’m at work?!
You sent back a heart, and nothing more. Let him sit with it.
At 11:12 a.m., you sent a brief a video this time. Switched it up, because why not?
Silent, unfiltered, back turned to the mirror. Your ass in motion, hips swaying slow. The straps were so thin they might as well have been floss, cutting over your ass as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. One leg bent. Head cropped. Nothing but ass and lace and implication.
He left you on read this time.
Which was telling. Because Clark always responded. Even if just with a heart emoji or a flustered “you’re trouble.” If he didn’t? It meant he couldn’t. It meant his hand was clenched so tight around his phone he couldn’t trust himself to type. Meant he’d flushed from throat to cheekbone and ducked into the Planet stairwell to cool off. Or he’d taken a lap around the roof. Around the city. Maybe around the atmosphere.
By 12:17 p.m., his reply finally came, and it was obvious he was unraveling.
The texts were shorter. Less punctuation. The fact that he stopped trying to scold you, and started asking questions instead? Ha!
Clark:
did you buy that
just for today
how long have you been wearing that
You answered with audio.
“Since you left,” you murmured, soft, breathy, and barely above a whisper. “Been thinking about you all morning Clark. Been missing you.”
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then nothing.
The next few hours were a study in escalation.
A photo of you kneeling on the mattress, back arched, ass up, cleavage spilling down beneath the delicate straps of the set.
A close-up of your fingers grazing your inner thigh, dragging slow, gliding higher, just high enough to hint without showing.
Another voice note, this one needier. A soft, whispered “Clark” said with just enough air, just enough ache, that you could practically feel him falling apart in real time.
By 4:07 p.m., the damn broke. Your poor Clark was done pretending he was okay.
Clark:
tryn to focus
ur making so difficlit
DIFFICULT
Please tell me you're waiting for me, honey. Just one more hour.
It wasn't often he truly begged, but that last message was so damn close.
And you, his sweetheart, menace, wife, North Star, had the nerve to read it and not reply.
You waited until 5:02 p.m., letting that last message sit and ache, let Clark stew in it as you took your time setting up what you already knew would end his entire day.
The Kill Shot took longer to record than the others.
You were reclined against the headboard, pillows shoved behind your back, thighs spread wide and unapologetic, red lace pushed damp and dark between them from hours of teasing that had left you tender and buzzing. The phone was propped at the end of the bed, poetically against a careless stack of Clark’s unironed dress shirts.
“See what you do to me, Clark,” you sighed softly when you hit record, your hand drifting down your stomach, fingers slipping beneath the red lace. You hissed quietly when you touched your already swollen, already too sensitive clit, hips rocking without permission. “I’m so wet, baby. Soaked. All day. Just from teasing you.”
Your ring finger circled your clit slowly, deliberately, letting the slick and sound gather. A raspy moan slipped out of you as your back pressed harder into the pillows.
“Hope you’re not mad,” you added, breath hitching, almost laughing through it.
You slid one finger inside yourself, then another, the stretch making you gasp as your thighs trembled. Your head tipped back, chest lifting as you tried to make it feel right.
“It’s not the same,” you whined, frustration threading your voice honestly now. “It never is without you.”
You lifted your free hand into frame then, holding up the bright blue, ridged Superman vibrator. Absurd. Thrilling. Purchased originally as a joke, now deployed with intent.
“I even tried this,” you lamented.
When you turned it on, the low buzz filled the room, vibrating straight up your spine. You pressed it to your clit and jolted hard, a broken sound tearing out of you as your hips jerked helplessly.
“Oh—oh God—” You sucked in a breath, fingers curling inside yourself. “It doesn’t—fuck—it still doesn’t touch me like you do.”
You dragged it away almost immediately, breath ragged, shaking your head like you were offended by it.
Your fingers thrusted as deep as you could, scissoring, stretching, searching. Ultimately failing.
“They’re not big enough,” you babbled, voice going soft and needy now, slick sounds growing louder as you rocked against your hand. “They don’t reach like yours. They don’t—God, Clark, they don’t feel like you.”
You brought the vibrator back, pressing it against your clit again while your fingers worked inside you, the buzz climbing as your body arched and your knees drew up, lace biting into your hips. A shaky laugh fell from your mouth, half‑wrecked, half‑desperate.
“This isn’t fair,” you whined as you lifted your head, eyes flicking to the camera now, unfocused but locked on him all the same. “You always make it feel so good. Your hands… your mouth…”
You writhed openly, unashamed, thighs trembling, red lace soaked through as you chased something you knew you wouldn’t quite reach.
“It’s not your thickness,” you breathed. “Not your heat.”
Your fingers slipped out, then back in, curling deeper this time, trying to find that spot he always hit so effortlessly, like your body had been built for his hands alone.
“I need you, Clark,” you panted, eyes fluttering. “Need your fingers and your mouth between my legs. Need you telling me to relax—telling me how pretty I look when I fall apart for you.”
The vibrator buzzed louder, dragged teasingly once, twice—and then you pulled it away again, breath shuddering.
“And your cock,” you added, voice breaking into a whine. “I need you to show me how it’s supposed to feel. Need you to stretch me the way you always do. Need my husband to fill me up because this—”
You gestured helplessly between your thighs, fingers slick and shining, breath uneven. “This isn’t enough. It’s never enough without you.”
You lifted your gaze to the camera one last time—wrecked, honest, ruined by want.
“Come home soon, Clark,” you whispered, biting your lip.
And then you stopped. Didn’t finish. Wouldn’t dare.
You ended the recording with your chest still heaving and thighs still shaking. You redressed slowly, washed your hands and the toy with care, and hit 'send' as you went to start dinner.
As if nothing at all was about to explode.
.
Twenty minutes later, the apartment was drenched in the scent of garlic and thyme, steam curling from the pot like a love letter in vapor.
Clark's favorite, beef bourguignon, simmered low and rich on the stove, sweet and buttery and slow. You made it only on special occasions: birthdays, anniversaries, nights you wore lingerie beneath an apron and didn’t pretend otherwise.
You stood barefoot, thighs still trembling faintly from earlier, the red lace set damp beneath one of his softest, most lived-in aprons with Kansas Corn Festival logo faded on the front and the fraying strings you always tied in a neat bow at your lower back.
Your lip gloss was fresh. Your hair was a little too tousled, a little too knowingly mussed. You looked like you’d been fucked senseless and then pulled halfway back from the edge. Which was, of course, exactly the truth. Just not by him. Yet.
You stirred the pot once more, slow and thoughtful, then licked the spoon just as a sonic boom tore across the skyline.
The windows rattled.
You didn’t even flinch.
The burner clicked off, and you turned just in time to hear the familiar thud on the balcony. Something weighty and male and exasperated had landed with purpose.
Clark Kent, god among men, paragon of restraint, and utterly fucking done with you, stood just outside, flushed from throat to hairline, chest rising and falling like he was seconds from combusting.
He opened the balcony door too hard. Shut it harder.
You didn’t flinch. You smiled instead.
“Hi, baby!” you greeted sweetly, licking the last of the spoon and setting it down like nothing was melting between your legs. “How was work?”
Clark mouth opened. A strangled sound came out. Nothing formed. He looked like a man who had rehearsed a speech the entire flight over, one with bullet points and moral high ground, and lost all of it the second he saw your bare thighs and dazzling smile.
“You—” he tried, pointing one finger squarely at your chest, not moving.
You tilted your head. “Moi?”
“Honey,” he began, dragging a hand down his face, voice pitched somewhere between desperation and disbelief. “One: hi. Work was fine. Two: dinner smells delicious. Three: what you pulled today? That was beyond cruel.”
You leaned back slowly, bumping your side against the edge of the kitchen island with a little bounce. He followed without thinking. Close enough to trap. Close enough to breathe you in.
“You liked it,” you sang, tugging at one of his belt loops.
“No, I loved it,” he ground out, hands already on your waist, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver up your spine. “That’s not the point.”
“Oh?” you asked, lashes low, lips pouty. “What’s the point then?”
He huffed. Actually huffed. Then, defeated, he pulled off his glasses and set them carefully on the counter beside you. Pinched the bridge of his nose like he could still slow this trainwreck down with rational thought.
“The point is—” he tried again, swallowing, visibly recalibrating. “I have been trying to be good all day.”
“So have I. Guess we both failed.”
Clark exhaled, running a hand through his already-ruined hair. Pushed it back only for it to fall limply forward again.
“Sweetheart,” he hissed, blue eyes sharp now. “I had to sit in a meeting with Perry after I listened to you moan my name. You—” He pointed again, but his hand dropped halfway, like touching you would end this too fast. “You sent me audio. While I was on lunch with Jimmy. I could barely look him in the eye.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” you murmured, one leg brushing between his.
His hands tightened on your hips. You gasped.
“And then,” he said, lower now, voice going dangerous, “you sent me a video of you—Gosh—spread out across our bed, touching yourself with that silly little toy—”
You shrugged, too pleased with yourself to be sorry.
“Superman didn’t save me this time.”
His laugh was broken. Unhinged, like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that. He stepped until the kitchen counter pressed cold against your spine as he crowded into your space, chest brushing yours, arms braced on either side of you like a cage made of heat and muscle and something wild beneath the surface.
There was nowhere to go—not that you’d ever want to—his presence wrapping around you like steam, wrapping around your waist, sliding down your thighs.His breath kissed the curve of your cheek, then your jaw, then lower, his mouth dragging down your throat like he needed to taste how hard your pulse was pounding for him.
“You have any idea what you did to me?” he rasped.
“You say that like it’s not your favorite thing about me.”
A strangled moan escaped him as he leaned closer, forehead touching yours. His cock was already stiff and twitching, the thick press of it unmistakable against your stomach even though layers of slacks and lace. You gasped, fingers tightening in the soft cotton at his elbows just to stay upright.
“Every second of your video,” he growled. “Saying your fingers not being enough—” A long breath. “How empty you still felt. Using the toy.”
You shivered. The air between you went heavy.
“Clark—” you warned, already trembling.
“I haven’t even said hello properly,” he muttered darkly.
Without warning, he kissed you like a man who’d just run halfway around the world and needed you to catch him. No restraint. No finesse. Just tongue and heat and need, his mouth slanting over yours in wild, open-mouthed hunger, one hand sinking into your toussled hair, the other pressing low on your spine until your bodies aligned, hips flush, your thighs parting on instinct.
You whimpered into it, clawing at his shoulders, overwhelmed by the rush of him finally, finally being here. Being on you.
“Been waiting for this,” he whispered, mouth trailing along your jaw, your neck, nipping at the places he knew would make you gasp. Losing my mind since the first photo.”
His hand spread low on your ass, tugging you harder against the thick ridge in his slacks. It ground into your clit with every breath, every shift of his hips, and made your knees buckle, a cry caught in your throat as your body begged for more friction, more weight, more.
That heady, perfect mix of power and affection and worship and want coursed through you.
“You’re unreal,” he panted between kisses. “You were made to drive me insane, huh?”
A quiet laugh caught in your throat, lips brushing his jaw.
“What’s unreal is this bow,” you hummed, tapping your chest, where the ribbon peeked just above the apron’s neckline. “Knotted it way too tight. Think you can get it off, baby?”
His eyes darkened, gaze zeroing in on the apron tied at your back. That innocent cotton thing cinched tight around your waist like some symbol of sweet domesticity. A disguise. A mockery.
He wouldn't take the bait. Not this time.
“No,” he said firmly. “Not yet. You’re gonna stay in that pretty little set, sweetheart. The one you spent all day tormenting me in.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the edge in his voice.
Clark’s gaze dropped to the apron. That innocent cotton thing, cinched around your waist like a mockery of domesticity, as if it hadn’t been hiding the filthiest tease he’d ever seen in his life.
“Though this?” he muttered, fingers curling into the bow behind you, “Is a problem.”
Before you could answer, he tugged sharp and hard, and the apron came loose, slipping off your shoulders and crumpling to the floor.
The sight of you underneath?
His breath left him in one long, shattered exhale.
The red fabric shimmered under the kitchen light, clinging damp to your chest, your hips, your thighs, every inch of you hot and glowing and desperate for him. He stared for a long moment, jaw tense, hands twitching at his sides like he was debating whether to worship you or simply scream and combust.
In one fluid, impossible motion, he spun you around to face the counter. Your hands flew out, bracing against the cool granite with a yelp. His body pressed against your back, the hard, unmistakable ridge of his erection straining against his trousers, digging into the cleft of your ass through the lace.
“This,” he hissed in your ear, one large hand splaying across your stomach, holding you firm against him. “This red lace. It’s been haunting me all day. A glimpse here. A shadow there.” His other hand came up, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern over your breast, teasingly tugging on your bow, then sliding down your ribs. “It’s all I could see."
“Clark,” you moaned, voice cracking with lust.
“Payback,” he whispered, his hands now on your hips, yanking the damp panties down your thighs in one rough pull. The cool air hit your exposed skin, followed immediately by the blistering heat of his palm as he cupped you from behind.
"Still wet?” he leaned over you, mouth to your ear as he buried his fingers in your soaking, messy cunt slowly. “Still aching for me, hon?”
“Y-yeah, been a-all day,” you choked out, thighs knocking against the kitchen cabinets with each twitch. “Since the first photo. Since I woke up and ruined my lipstick for you. It's all for you.”
A rough sound tore from his throat. Unfastening his belt with a desperate frantic flick, he pushed his slacks and briefs low enough to free himself. The hot weight of his cock pressed against your bare ass, solid and heavy and so real
“See what you do to me, sweetheart?” he growled, echoing the opening line you’d whispered into your last video as he teased the swollen, pre-cum slick head between your puffy folds.
You whimpered, barely able to breathe as the head caught on your clit the same time his teeth nipped the edge of your earlobe.
“F-fuck! That—oh god, that feels—Clark—please, I need it—need you—”
“I know,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear. “I’ve got you.”
With one powerful, driving thrust that silenced you, he buried himself inside inch by glorious inch.
Your eyes rolled back, feeling every ridge, every vein, every pulsing heat and maddening pressure.
The air left your lungs in a punched-out cry. He filled you, stretched you, exactly as you’d whined about. The difference was profound, overwhelming. It was his heat, his thickness, the perfect, devastating fit of him being enveloped by your quivering, gummy walls.
You felt impossibly full, stretched to a sweet, burning limit, and any remaining coherent thought was knocked clean out of your head.
“G-gosh,” he groaned, feeling a new wave of slick coat his length. “You’re so–so tight like this, beautiful. Still fluttering around me—”
You answered by clenching tight, rocking into him slowly. “S-stay right there—just—stay.”
He kissed your shoulder, the top of your spine, the back of your neck, mouth open and reverent.
Clark set an increasingly deep, relentless rhythm, pounding you hard up against the kitchen counter. Each drive of his hips slammed you into the cool granite edge, a counterpoint of pleasure and slight pain that made your vision blur.
His hands gripped your hips, surely leaving faint bruises, holding you in place for his taking. The sounds were filthy—the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, your ragged cries, his guttural groans near your ear.
“You like that?” he gritted out, pressing hot kisses on your neck, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “You like making me lose it? Making me fly home like a madman?”
“Y-yes! Yes!” you cried, words slurred, hips bucking back into his as your fingers scrambled uselessly over the cool countertop, dinner long forgotten. “Wanted this—wanted you—”
He grunted, one hand slipping down to rub your clit as his thrusts turned punishing, precise. Your body jolted with every snap of his hips, legs shaking, pleasure rising so fast it blurred everything else.
All the while, Clark kissed you, really kissed you, with one hand on your throat as he pulled your face back to his, tongue sliding into your mouth, your moans swallowed between breathless gasps and cracked, whispered I love you's and You drive me crazy's.
Okay, so you ragebaited Clark: masterfully, deliberately, without shame and without mercy.
And now?
Now you were going to spend the rest of the night helping him cool off, one deep, punishing thrust at a time, your body bent beneath his as he finally gave in to everything you’d spent the day dragging out of him.
There are only a few things in the world that could make Clark Kent come undone.
Only a few things that could burn through all that patience and kindness and quiet self-control.
And you in red-laced lingerie had always done it best.
.
Thank you for reading! Any reblogs, comments, likes are forever appreciated, and keeps me motivated!
something short and sweet with clark on this monday <3
wc: 838
warnings.
SMUT, semi-public/high risk smut (in the elevator), implied relationship, fingering (f receiving), he just wants you to ~relax~.
clark kent taglist: @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @kissmxcheek @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @mollymal @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @dreamreaperrr @sullyosully @marymustdie @dadwh0re @pumpkinspicedlove @emergencycontact @alwayslikekath @angelkisscherie
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ it's interview day for your dream job at the daily planet and your man makes sure you're stress-free going into it. ✧
"Good morning, Mr. Kent."
Clark smiles softly when you step into the elevator with him.
"Is today finally the big day?"
As if he doesn't already know.
"It is," you hum, unable to help a small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips.
He looks down at you as you fiddle nervously with the folder in your hands, no doubt containing your resume and a few of your previous articles. The doors slide shut and the world's slowest elevator begins its climb to the top floor.
"You seem nervous."
You let out a dry chuckle, enjoying this little game the two of you are playing. It's a nice distraction from your nerves.
"We're in the elevator now...we don't have to be so cordial."
Clark's smile widens before setting his coffee on the elevator railing and moving next to you, resting his hand on your lower back.
"Good. Then you won't mind if I do...this."
As he speaks, you feel his hand descend over your ass, down the back of your thigh before hooking up under your pencil skirt. Your breath catches when he starts sliding his hand up your inner thigh, and you look up at him, gripping your folder a bit tighter.
"Clark..."
He shakes his head, looking down at you as his fingers finally reach their intended destination: the crotch of your panties.
"Just let me take care of you before the biggest interview of your life. Your words, not mine...I find 'of your life' a bit extreme, personally."
You smile, giving him a little nudge with your shoulder.
"Only because you already work here."
His fingers press up against the slightly damp fabric, immediately finding your clit and beginning to circle it slowly. You sigh softly, head tipping back against the elevator wall with a light thud. He looks down at your lips for a split second before leaning in to kiss you, muffling some of your soft sounds.
"Mm," he hums between kisses. "Do you need more?"
You nod.
"Please."
Clark smiles and slips his fingers beneath the flimsy fabric, finding your clit ready and begging to be touched. You let out a little whimper, unable to help yourself, the papers in your hand beginning to crease under the pressure of your fingers.
"Is that better for you?" he asks, even though he already knows damn well that it is.
"I-I need more," you breathe, your other hand clutching to the back of his suit jacket. "I need your fingers inside of me, baby."
He doesn't need to hear anything more, immediately nudging two of his impossibly thick fingers against your eager entrance. You gasp when he presses them in slowly, hearing the way his breath catches at the feeling of your silky wetness surrounding his digits.
Your walls clench around him as he begins to move, curling them in such a way that makes your back arch.
"Right there?"
"Right there," you breathe, nodding. "Don't stop, Clark."
His fingers work against your g-spot expertly, eyes never leaving your face, tracking your expressions. It's so incredibly important to him that he knows what you like most, what makes you tick, what brings you over the edge fastest.
You're embarrassingly close to your orgasm within no more than a minute of his fingers inside of you, and he can feel the way you're pulsing around him. Your legs are beginning to quiver and your brow is beginning to furrow.
"Let go...give it to me, sweetheart."
The moment you look over at him and make eye contact, it's all over. Your orgasm hits and your mouth drops open slightly, allowing a soft but long moan to slip out. Clark's eyes never leave yours as he takes you through it with a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Fuck..."
When he does break eye contact, it's only to look at what floor the elevator is passing by, and his eyes widen slightly. He quickly but gently pulls his fingers free and sucks them clean while you straighten yourself out. There's a pretty significant dent in your folder now, and you chuckle at the sight, hoping Perry won't question it.
"Cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"
He smiles, shrugging as he grabs his coffee and discretely adjusts his half-hardness. Usually he's the nervous one in situations like this, but you needed this and he knew that he had to give it to you no matter what.
"Anything for my girl on her big interview day."
You pull him in for a deep kiss before the doors slide open to reveal the bustling Daily Planet. You and Clark step out of the elevator with a respectable distance between the two of you, and he offers you a nod as Perry approaches.
"Good luck with your interview, Y/N. You're gonna do great."
Clark offers a nod to Perry as he walks by, turning to flash you a quick wink before heading to his desk to start his day.
(daily planet divider by saradika-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> clark kent masterlist for all of your clark kent needs! <<
something short and sweet with clark on this monday <3
wc: 838
warnings.
SMUT, semi-public/high risk smut (in the elevator), implied relationship, fingering (f receiving), he just wants you to ~relax~.
clark kent taglist: @marvel-hiddles-stark @teeth-sheesh @starlit-whispers @kissmxcheek @starsmoon @averyhotchner @pinkgirlblogs @x-fanaccount1-x @mollymal @rynwritesstuff @froggypoggy222 @dreamreaperrr @sullyosully @marymustdie @dadwh0re @pumpkinspicedlove @emergencycontact @alwayslikekath @angelkisscherie
(interested in joining any of my taglists? fill out the anonymous form HERE!)
✧ it's interview day for your dream job at the daily planet and your man makes sure you're stress-free going into it. ✧
"Good morning, Mr. Kent."
Clark smiles softly when you step into the elevator with him.
"Is today finally the big day?"
As if he doesn't already know.
"It is," you hum, unable to help a small smile from tugging at the corners of your lips.
He looks down at you as you fiddle nervously with the folder in your hands, no doubt containing your resume and a few of your previous articles. The doors slide shut and the world's slowest elevator begins its climb to the top floor.
"You seem nervous."
You let out a dry chuckle, enjoying this little game the two of you are playing. It's a nice distraction from your nerves.
"We're in the elevator now...we don't have to be so cordial."
Clark's smile widens before setting his coffee on the elevator railing and moving next to you, resting his hand on your lower back.
"Good. Then you won't mind if I do...this."
As he speaks, you feel his hand descend over your ass, down the back of your thigh before hooking up under your pencil skirt. Your breath catches when he starts sliding his hand up your inner thigh, and you look up at him, gripping your folder a bit tighter.
"Clark..."
He shakes his head, looking down at you as his fingers finally reach their intended destination: the crotch of your panties.
"Just let me take care of you before the biggest interview of your life. Your words, not mine...I find 'of your life' a bit extreme, personally."
You smile, giving him a little nudge with your shoulder.
"Only because you already work here."
His fingers press up against the slightly damp fabric, immediately finding your clit and beginning to circle it slowly. You sigh softly, head tipping back against the elevator wall with a light thud. He looks down at your lips for a split second before leaning in to kiss you, muffling some of your soft sounds.
"Mm," he hums between kisses. "Do you need more?"
You nod.
"Please."
Clark smiles and slips his fingers beneath the flimsy fabric, finding your clit ready and begging to be touched. You let out a little whimper, unable to help yourself, the papers in your hand beginning to crease under the pressure of your fingers.
"Is that better for you?" he asks, even though he already knows damn well that it is.
"I-I need more," you breathe, your other hand clutching to the back of his suit jacket. "I need your fingers inside of me, baby."
He doesn't need to hear anything more, immediately nudging two of his impossibly thick fingers against your eager entrance. You gasp when he presses them in slowly, hearing the way his breath catches at the feeling of your silky wetness surrounding his digits.
Your walls clench around him as he begins to move, curling them in such a way that makes your back arch.
"Right there?"
"Right there," you breathe, nodding. "Don't stop, Clark."
His fingers work against your g-spot expertly, eyes never leaving your face, tracking your expressions. It's so incredibly important to him that he knows what you like most, what makes you tick, what brings you over the edge fastest.
You're embarrassingly close to your orgasm within no more than a minute of his fingers inside of you, and he can feel the way you're pulsing around him. Your legs are beginning to quiver and your brow is beginning to furrow.
"Let go...give it to me, sweetheart."
The moment you look over at him and make eye contact, it's all over. Your orgasm hits and your mouth drops open slightly, allowing a soft but long moan to slip out. Clark's eyes never leave yours as he takes you through it with a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Fuck..."
When he does break eye contact, it's only to look at what floor the elevator is passing by, and his eyes widen slightly. He quickly but gently pulls his fingers free and sucks them clean while you straighten yourself out. There's a pretty significant dent in your folder now, and you chuckle at the sight, hoping Perry won't question it.
"Cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"
He smiles, shrugging as he grabs his coffee and discretely adjusts his half-hardness. Usually he's the nervous one in situations like this, but you needed this and he knew that he had to give it to you no matter what.
"Anything for my girl on her big interview day."
You pull him in for a deep kiss before the doors slide open to reveal the bustling Daily Planet. You and Clark step out of the elevator with a respectable distance between the two of you, and he offers you a nod as Perry approaches.
"Good luck with your interview, Y/N. You're gonna do great."
Clark offers a nod to Perry as he walks by, turning to flash you a quick wink before heading to his desk to start his day.
(daily planet divider by saradika-graphics here on tumblr!)
>> clark kent masterlist for all of your clark kent needs! <<
I promise I'm still around and working on plenty of juicy stuff!
I had two exams this week on the same day :| plus all my additional homework, so I've had a lot on my plate and I'm feeling quite drained.
I'm dedicating my time this weekend to filling my cup & doing self-care stuff, but I haven't forgotten about y'all and I'll have more for you next week :)
what I've currently got in the works (to hopefully get you excited)
frat bro!scott smutty oneshot
smutty clark oneshot
scott inbox stuff (I haven't forgotten!!)
perhaps...ramblings about regency era!scott miller 👀
