soft fur, sharper teeth. desperate affection, heated tension, glossy mouths, and love that scratches a little. âžâž.áâ
this is my second writing blog! @dollettenextdoor is my main
â multi x reader only
â drabbles, headcanons, blurbs, and thirsts
â requests: open 18+ nsfw blog
this blog contains mature themes, suggestive content, dark themes, and obsessive levels of fictional yearning. enter at your own risk. please read rules before requesting.
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pretty things with sharp teeth, come sit & stay awhile âĄ
âê«áȘĘ all works belong to @kittennextdoor. i do not give permission to translate, claim, or copy any of my works. i do not use ai, and i do not support the use of ai.
would u ever write mxf about military bf, stalkers, cowboys, masked bf or biker bfs?
idk about military men, the only military men im really found of are frank castle and dex & i only write about them on my other blog, i can do stalkers for sure & def cowboys. id def do masked men (yummm) & i could do like one biker boyf fic ig, the only thing i could think of is like bike sex or something lmao
â (tw - spanking/impact play) Your boyfriend takes his time when he puts you over his lap.
He sits on the edge of the bed and gently guides you across his thick thighs, positioning you exactly how he wants. His big hand rubs slow circles over your ass, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively before finally pulling your panties down to your knees. You shiver as the cool air hits your bare skin. He keeps rubbing, almost soothingly, letting the anticipation build until youâre squirming.
The first smack is firm but not too hard, the sound echoing in the room. He pauses, rubbing the spot gently, then lands another⊠and another. Each spank is deliberate, alternating cheeks, his palm lingering after every strike so the heat sinks deeper into your skin. âLook at you,â he murmurs, voice low and warm. âAlready getting so wet for me.â
His fingers tease between your thighs, spreading your slickness before he goes back to spanking you â a little harder now, making you whimper and push your ass up for more. He keeps that perfect rhythm: firm spank, gentle rub, teasing fingers, then another smack.
By the time heâs done, your ass is sensitive, and youâre dripping down his thigh, aching and desperate. He leans down, kisses the back of your neck, and whispers, âNow letâs take care of the rest of you.â
â (tw - spanking/impact play) Your boyfriend takes his time when he puts you over his lap.
He sits on the edge of the bed and gently guides you across his thick thighs, positioning you exactly how he wants. His big hand rubs slow circles over your ass, squeezing the soft flesh appreciatively before finally pulling your panties down to your knees. You shiver as the cool air hits your bare skin. He keeps rubbing, almost soothingly, letting the anticipation build until youâre squirming.
The first smack is firm but not too hard, the sound echoing in the room. He pauses, rubbing the spot gently, then lands another⊠and another. Each spank is deliberate, alternating cheeks, his palm lingering after every strike so the heat sinks deeper into your skin. âLook at you,â he murmurs, voice low and warm. âAlready getting so wet for me.â
His fingers tease between your thighs, spreading your slickness before he goes back to spanking you â a little harder now, making you whimper and push your ass up for more. He keeps that perfect rhythm: firm spank, gentle rub, teasing fingers, then another smack.
By the time heâs done, your ass is sensitive, and youâre dripping down his thigh, aching and desperate. He leans down, kisses the back of your neck, and whispers, âNow letâs take care of the rest of you.â
Summary: Late nights at Mabelâs Diner have never been the same since Clark Kent started showing up. The rugged, older trucker claims the same corner booth every evening, his dark eyes following your every move in that short waitress uniform. What begins as sweet protection quickly turns into something far hotter when the doors lock and the lights go low.
Pairing: Trucker!clark kent x reader
Tags: explicit sexual content, age gap (older clark), public sex, some dirty talk, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, creampie + cum play, size difference, semi est. relationship. clark has an accent (yummm), pet names
W.C.: 1.6k more trucker!clark here
The neon sign above Mabelâs Diner flickered softly against the dark stretch of highway, casting a warm pinkish glow over the cracked asphalt parking lot. It was just past 9 PM on a quiet Thursday, the kind of night where the big rigs hummed in the distance like distant thunder and the only real sounds inside were the clink of silverware and the low murmur of the jukebox playing old country tunes.
Clark Kent had been coming here for months now. He wasnât the kind of man who blended into small-town scenery. Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like the trucks he drove, Clark had that weathered, working-man lookâsalt-and-pepper stubble on a strong jaw, calloused hands that could bend steel, and deep lines around his eyes from years squinting into sunsets on long hauls. He carried the quiet confidence of a man whoâd seen too many lonely roads. But those same eyes softened sweetly whenever they landed on you.
You were the night-shift waitress, pouring coffee in your classic Mabelâs uniform: a soft blue dress with a crisp white apron tied tight around your waist, the hem skimming just above your knees. It hugged your curves in all the right places, especially when you moved. Clark always took the same booth in the back corner, the one that gave him a perfect view of the whole dinerâand of you. Tonight was no different.
âEveninâ, darlinâ,â Clark rumbled as you approached with a menu he didnât need. His voice was gravelly, low, the kind that vibrated through your chest. He wore his usual faded flannel over a worn black t-shirt that stretched across his powerful chest, sleeves rolled up to show thick forearms corded with muscle.
âClark,â you said with a playful smile, setting down a glass of sweet tea without asking. âYouâre gonna wear out that booth if you keep sittinâ here every night till close.â
He chuckled, the sound warm and rough. âCanât help it. Best coffee in three states. And the company ainât bad either.â
You felt his gaze follow you as you moved through the diner, bussing tables, wiping counters, refilling mugs for the few lingering truckers and locals. Every time you bent over to clear a booth, you made sure to arch your back just a little more than necessary, letting the short skirt of your dress ride up the backs of your thighs. You knew he was watching. You wanted him to watch.
When you straightened and glanced back, Clarkâs eyes were dark, fixed on the curve of your ass. He didnât look away. Instead, a slow, appreciative smile tugged at his lips. That mix of gentleman and wolf always made heat pool low in your belly.
The hours ticked by. The diner emptied out. By 10:45, it was just the two of you and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights. You locked the front door, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and started the final cleanup. Clark stayed right where he was, nursing the last of his coffee, his big frame relaxed but alert.
âYou donât have to wait every night, you know,â you called over your shoulder as you wiped down the counter. You bent low to reach the far side, giving him another deliberate view. âI can handle myself.â
âI know you can,â he replied, voice quieter now. âBut thereâs plenty of creeps out there after dark. I sleep better knowinâ I walked you to your car. BesidesâŠâ He paused, eyes tracing the way your dress clung to your hips. âI like watchinâ you work. You move like you own the place. Itâs somethinâ else.â
Your heart fluttered at the sweetness beneath the rough tone. Clark Kent might look like a man who could throw someone through a wall, but heâd never once made you feel anything but safe, protected, and wanted. You finished mopping the floor and turned off the main lights, leaving only the warm glow above the counter and booths. The diner felt intimate now, like it belonged only to the two of you.
âCome here, sweetheart,â Clark said, pushing his mug aside. You walked over slowly, hips swaying in that little blue dress. When you reached his booth, he slid out and stood, towering over you. One large, rough hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip with gentleness.
âYouâve been teasinâ me all night,â he murmured, leaning down so his breath ghosted your ear. âBending over like that in this little dress. You tryinâ to drive an old man crazy?â
âMaybe,â you whispered, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. âIs it working?â
Clarkâs answer was a low growl. He pulled you against him, kissing you deeply. His mouth was firm, insistent, tasting of coffee and the mint he always chewed after dinner. Those big hands slid down your back, palming your ass through the thin fabric and squeezing possessively. You moaned into his mouth, fingers curling into his flannel.
He lifted you effortlessly onto the edge of the nearest table, the one heâd been sitting at all night. The wood creaked under your weight as he stepped between your thighs, pushing the dress up to your hips.
âBeen thinkinâ about this for weeks,â he admitted, voice husky. His hands were rough but careful as he unbuttoned the front of your dress, exposing your bra and the soft swell of your breasts. He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point while his fingers worked the clasp of your bra. âYouâre too good for a man like me, but damn if I can stay away.â
âYouâre exactly what I want,â you breathed, tugging his flannel open. His chest was solid, dusted with dark hair, warm under your palms. You traced the lines of old scars and the hard ridges of muscle earned from years of loading freight and long drives.
Clark groaned at your touch. He shoved your dress higher, dragging your panties down your legs in one smooth motion. The cool air hit your slick folds, making you shiver. He dropped to his knees right there on the diner floor, broad shoulders spreading your thighs wider. âLook at you,â he murmured reverently, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. âSo wet already. All for me?â
âYesâ Clark, pleaseâŠâ
He didnât make you beg long. His mouth descended on you, tongue licking a slow, broad stripe up your center before circling your clit. The stubble on his jaw scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin as he ate you out with focused hunger, long, deep strokes of his tongue, two thick fingers sliding into your pussy and curling just right. You cried out, fingers threading through his hair, hips rocking against his face.
He growled against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. âThatâs it, darlinâ. Let me hear you.â You came hard on his tongue, thighs trembling around his head. Clark kept licking you through it, gentling his touch until you were panting and boneless.
He rose, towering over you again, and kissed you so you could taste yourself on his lips. You reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. Clark helped you, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was thick, heavy, the flushed head already glistening. He was bigâolder, experienced, and clearly aching for you. âNeed you,â you whispered, wrapping your hand around him and stroking.
Clark hissed, hips jerking. âGonna fuck you right here on this table, sweetheart. Been dreaminâ about it.â
He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by thick inch. You gasped at the fullness, nails digging into his shoulders. He was careful at first, letting you adjust, murmuring sweet praises against your neckââSo tight⊠so perfect⊠takinâ me so well.â
Then the rough trucker side took over. He gripped your hips with those strong hands and started thrusting harder, deeper, the table creaking loudly beneath you with every powerful snap of his hips. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the empty diner. His flannel hung open, brushing against your bare breasts with every movement.
âClark- oh god, harder,â you moaned. He gave it to you, everything you wanted and needed from him. Rough, relentless strokes that hit that perfect spot inside you over and over. One hand slid between you, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. His other hand braced on the table, muscles flexing as he drove into you.
âCome on, baby. Come on me,â he growled, voice strained with pleasure. You shattered again, clenching hard around him. Clark followed right after with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, hips stuttering through his release.
For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing. Clark stayed buried deep, forehead pressed to yours, kissing you softly between breaths. Then he carefully pulled out, tucked himself away, and lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing.
He sat back in the booth with you in his lap, your dress still bunched around your waist, legs straddling him. His big arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand stroking down your back while the other slipped between your thighs again.
âStill so wet,â he murmured tenderly, thick fingers gliding through the mess of your combined release. He gently rubbed your sensitive pussy, spreading his cum over your folds and clit in slow, soothing circles. âMy sweet girl. You did so good for me.â
You sighed contentedly, nuzzling into his neck, feeling safe and thoroughly claimed in the circle of his strong arms. Clark kissed the top of your head, his rough exterior melting completely into the gentle giant youâd come to love.
âNext time,â he whispered against your hair, still lazily petting your slick, puffy pussy, âIâm takinâ you in my rig. But for now⊠I ainât lettinâ you go just yet.â
Outside, the highway stretched on into the night, but inside Mabelâs Diner, the trucker and the waitress had all the time in the world.
I'm so obsessed with your theme đđ it's kinda giving 90s video vixen
TYSMMMMM <3
yk thats not what i was going for but i think its a perfect description. also this is similar to the theme i had when i started my first writing blog!!
âyouâre makinâ a habit out of this, kid.â frankâs voice is a low, rough rumble through the speaker of your phone, heavy with the gravel of a man who was already halfway asleep before you rang him. you can hear the faint rustle of his bedsheets, the heavy, deliberate sigh he lets out into the receiver. heâs your dadâs oldest friend â the man who practically watched you grow up â and he knows damn well he shouldn't be answering the phone at two in the morning just to hear you breathe like this. but he did.
you whimper into the line, the sound small and completely desperate as your fingers work frantically beneath the waistband of your shorts. youâre so slick, so entirely consumed by the ache between your thighs, and no matter what you do, you can't seem to touch the spot right. âfrank, please⊠i canâtâ i need you. i tried, but itâs not working. please.â
thereâs a long, heavy beat of silence on his end. you can practically feel the weight of his gaze through the network, the sheer gravity of his restraint cracking. he knows the power he has over you. he knows heâs the only man alive who can actually fix this for you, the only one big enough, rough enough, to make the noise in your head stop.
âyou touchinâ at yourself right now?â he rasps, his tone shifting into something darker, a command that makes your stomach flip. you hear the thud of his boots hitting the floor on his end. heâs getting up. âtell me what youâre doing to yourself while youâre callinâ your daddyâs best friend, hm? say it for me.â
âiâm⊠iâm touchinâ myself, frank. for you. itâs only for you,â you sob out, your hips arching off your mattress as you rub against your own fingers, pretending theyâre his heavy, calloused hands instead. âiâm so needy⊠please come over. heâs out of town, he wonât know. just come fix it. please.â
a dark, rough chuckle vibrates through the phone, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. âyouâre a bad girl, you know that? a real brat.â you hear his truck keys jingle on the counter, the heavy front door of his place creaking open. heâs not even trying to fight it anymore. âkeep your hand right there. donât you dare stop until I get my hands on you."
