More specifically, watching him knead beignet dough. you can feel the heat pool in your stomach. Strong, well worked hands taking up a large portion of the soft dough, flour making mess up to his elbows, soft grunts as he kneads the dough into the hard surface of the table. You shamelessly ogle, not that he minds. Large, firm muscle in his forearms moving with each knead of the dough, shadows moving over the dips and curves. Thank god for short sleeved shirts. Why couldn’t he handle you like that? legs over his shoulders, hands kneading into your thighs. You knew he would it you asked, but just thinking about it made your mind wander and thighs clench.
“can feel you starin’ petit.” he says smoothly. Rough voice breaking the silence as he looked up from the dough. “Gambit knows that look. lemme take care of this first then i’ll give you all the lovin’ you need.”
sam winchester isn’t the kind of guy you see and immediately think he’s hot and you wanna have sex with him when i see that man i wanna grab him and suffocate him with the most breathtaking hugs and kiss him all over his face because he is just so baby puppy cutie pie and he deserves all the goodness in this world
a/n: lowkey fluffy but also filthy also size kink size kink size kink skize zink
sfw
thinking about boyfriend!clark kent who, when you started dating, immediately added your birthday and anniversary to his calendar - you’re his top priority now.
boyfriend!clark kent who refuses to even let you consider splitting the bill when you’re out on a date. “honey, put that away. i’ve told you that’s my job.” he’ll say it with that puppy dog smile, and you’ll have no choice but to put your wallet back into your purse. who could say no to that face?
when you’re at boyfriend!clark kent’s apartment, he super clingy. it’s not like he can help it, you are his dream girl after all! he just wants you near him all the time, is that so bad? he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. “just recharging, sweets.”
every time you ask boyfriend!clark kent for a kiss before work, it turns into about twenty, cute little pecks all over your face, because he’d rather die than have to see you leave his place. “clark! m’gonna be late-” you object his kisses, but giggle nonetheless. “just one more, hun…” you end up having to explain why you’re 10 minutes late to your boss.
nsfw
boyfriend!clark kent who can’t get over how much bigger he is than you. you’re so small in his arms, he’s surprised he can even manage to make his thick cock fit inside you. you’re just as surprised too - every time he gets you on your back, the stretch is so full, you’re convinced you’ll die.
“clark- nngh! it’s too big!”
“gosh, honey… y’re so tight. so pretty taking all o’ me.”
boyfriend!clark kent who makes any excuse to shower with you, whether it be washing your hair or “i just wanna hold you, sweets”, but he always manages to turn it into pressing your body against the shower tiles, and slowly pushing himself inside you with a: “missed you today, baby.”
when you told boyfriend!clark kent you wanted to make a sextape, you came home from work with it all set up and ready. you’ve never had sex for longer in your life. after you finished filming, he saved it to a private album in his phone, ready and waiting for him to see you taking him in any position he wants when he misses you, throbbing cock in his hand.
you and boyfriend!clark kent having sex and you clenching around him just right to make him lose composure and swear. “fuck! oh… so good - such a good girl.” he’ll always say it won’t happen again afterwards, but it always does. he can’t help you’re just so perfect.
on valentines day, boyfriend!clark kent was ready to take you out for dinner, but all thoughts left his head once he saw you in a brand new lingerie set. it was lacy, and in your favourite colour. he abandoned all ideas of dinner and spent the whole night fucking you, making sure to cum inside your needy pussy with a whisper of: “gosh, honey, i love you.”
and you love him too. you love him so much.
you're watching... slvt4west tv! do not plagiarise or feed my writing to ai!
any feedback is appreciated! call 1-800-WEST to request your very own episode!
know how some pet owners 'clicker-train' their pets? drawing a sound that they recognise and then rewarding them right after?
yeah clark kent is one-hundred-percent clicker-trained by his bossy, needy girlfriend.
starts off small, at the disgruntled sigh you give that often indicates something wasn't going right. he would be there in seconds, coming to your aid. need more references? he's elbow deep in archival boxes. printer empty? clark's already behind you with stack of fresh papers in his arms.
he lives to please you. so it's only fair that you reward him.
two taps of your manicured fingernails on his desk, and he shoots right up. if he had a tail, it would be wagging and hitting everyones knick-knacks off their cubicle.
fire-escape stairwell, supply closet, handicapped restroom — he didn't care wherever it was. clark kent simply waits patiently for you to say the words 'c'mere big guy', before he's hoisting you onto the nearest surface.
Arthur was born with his X gene. He was born as a literal rabbit. Little baby bunny. His biological parents did not want him, but one of the nurses who helped deliver him did. She took in Arthur raising him to the best of her abilities, but even she eventually got worn out by his over hyper personality and his overall needs. She constantly had to choose between paying the bills and providing for him. Knowing full well that he couldn’t go to public school and babysitters were out of the question, she couldn’t find one she trusted. She and Arthur got by well enough before she found Xavier’s school. She instantly enrolled him knowing that this was the best thing for him. He was around 8 when he was enrolled, and he still sees his momma on the weekends and holidays.
ZOEY AMETHYST casted with RYAN DESTINY · from her real name zoey amelia quintana , is a witch and dean’s friend . she comes for an ancient lineage of witches from her both parents side . throughout the years , dean and zoey’s relationship becomes something that’s more than just a platonic bond .
⠀⠀⠀🪽⃝᭥᭤⠚⠀⠀ 𝓽𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍⠀ : ⠀ @clubsoft - @dontlistentodaisy - @babynueva - @harleymuses ⠀ , ⠀ wanna ⠀ be ⠀ added ⠀ to ⠀ the ⠀ taglist ⠀ ? ⠀ comment ⠀ under ⠀ this ⠀ post ⠀ or ⠀ fill ⠀ up ⠀ the ⠀ form ⠀ !
clark request! maybe an insecure!reader branches out and buys cute underwear to try on for clark... can be fluffy Or smut! your choice my queen!!!!!!!!! 🫶🏻
thank you for requesting! ★ fem, 2.1k
cw suggestive themes
The noise Clark makes when he sees you is a shriek, but that’s getting ahead of things.
There are many wonderful aspects to having a boyfriend. Being doted on, kissed and hugged and cared for, it’s all worth the awkwardness of being known. But! That does not mean the awkwardness is no longer awkward. It’s borderline painful.
It starts one night (or, another night, down the line, when Clark has already complimented your slight plain panties with little adornment) laying in bed beside him. You’re wondering if Clark would want to fuck you and if there is a less strange way to ask then how you’d proposed it the last time you wanted him with a whispered question. He’d very obviously been into it, but you’re not stupid to the world of sex, only shy —there are subtler methods of seduction that you and Clark can enjoy together. Clark himself can be terribly seductive, usually by turning a small kiss into a better one, or occasionally suggesting ways to warm you up that don’t involve clothes after showers. He’s always charming, and kind, and surprisingly dirty-mouthed in murmurs (though he never calls you anything worse than perfect, and he doesn’t cuss). You are gosh darn gorgeous in his lap.
The spurring thought isn’t particularly sophisticated. Clark’s stretched out beside you with his shirt riding up and his sweatpants low on one hip and he looks sexy. That’s all it is. He’s hot, and he isn’t putting a ton of effort in, but you know that the underwear he’s wearing beneath his sweatpants are expensive and fit him well. He takes care to look good.
You think about your white plain panties, and begin to debate how you can make him think like this about you. You know Clark finds you beautiful, if not for how often he tells you, then the simple basics of a relationship.
Clark could have anyone and he chose you, so you’re not not beautiful in his eyes. But you probably aren’t sexy. And you realise that, despite the little trip of nerves at the idea, you’d like to be. Maybe you can present yourself to Clark in something nice for once to wind him up.
Maybe you can pull this off.
You spend time with your heart in your mouth at Victoria’s Secret. Clark calls you while you’re there having just gotten out of work. He likes to know where you are, only to know, for mild peace of mind and the curiosity that comes with loving someone. It’s alright. You like knowing where he is, too.
“Where are you?” he asks warmly.
“Did you call me earlier?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about you. It’s alright, I didn’t have anything important to say, I was just stealing a break.”
“Oh, okay, good. I’m at the mall. King’s Arcade. Just… clothes shopping.”
“Great, can I come meet you?”
You squeeze the phone, turning away from the lingerie you’d been eyeing in a rush as though Clark will catch you immediately. “Sure,” you say, slightly breathless, “how far are you? I can come meet you at the front?”
“No, don’t worry about that, I’ll come find you, I’m like five minutes out. What store are you in?”
You turn back to the polka dot panties with the lettuce hem and the tiny black bow and its matching bra decisively. There’s a Bath and Body Works right next door. “By the candle shop,” you say, snagging the panties in your size. Baby steps.
You pay for the panties and shove them with the receipt in your bag as Clark turns the corner.
He squeezes your hand in hello. Asks if you’re thirsty and buys you a drink. Then you sort of follow one another around for a bit until Clark spies your lack of clothes and encourages you into a store with your style in the front window.
Could he get any more perfect? (Yes! He pays for the two things you picked up, swiping his card before you can get yours out of your purse like he’d been waiting with it between his fingers.) You flush all over thinking he’s seen the panties in your rush to get your purse out and ruin his plans, which doesn’t help.
“I’m sorry if I undermined your independence, but you have to let me pay for you sometimes. It’s more for me than it is for you,” he says, having noticed your displeasure, your joined hands swinging gently.
“You didn’t undermine my independence, Clark.”
“Is that sass? Are you sassing me?”
You recognise his teasing as something that could spiral out of your control and try to duck away, but Clark pulls you right back in.
“You’re being mean to me,” he says into your cheek.
“You’re mean to me!”
“I’m not trying to be!”
Giggly and content, you make your way out of the mall, the short walk to his apartment becoming dawdlingly long. You’re tired as you shuck out of your shoes. Clark palms briefly at your back before throwing himself ahead. “I’ll make dinner,” he says.
So he does. You eat dinner with your heel pressed to the top of his foot, and share an ice cream for dessert from the same bowl with two spoons.
You shower first. Clark kisses your cheek when you return to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, eager for his own, and leaves you with pajamas he’s laid out including a simple pair of pink panties and a soft bralette for sleeping. Just a suggestion, never expected, which is good. You swap the panties out for your new polka dot ones and get dressed, fix your hair, laid up at the top of the bed scrolling down your phone by the time Clark comes in dripping wet. He sits down on the end of the bed, taking the towel from around his shoulders to scrub at his curls.
Even his back is rippled with muscle, the skin tight as he leans forwards.
Okay. So. Your seduction was mainly panties-based and you’re not sure how to show Clark that they’re new without initiating. The point was that he’d see your new panties and the effort you’re making and start salivating in a more casual situation. You should’ve waited to get dressed until he was in the room, but it’s too late now.
Clark tips backwards, his hair hanging in wet, dark coils behind him. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?”
“I had a funny feeling about you.”
Or he’s using his super senses for personal gain. “I’m fine, just thinking.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
You shuffle down the bed to be closer. “I had this idea…”
Clark spots your timidity a mile out. Usually he’d reach to comfort you, but perhaps there’s more in what you’re not saying, because he bites down a smile that’s surprisingly amorous. Maybe he’s just wires-crossed, what with his lack of pants. “What was your idea?” he asks quietly.
What to tell him? You nibble the inside of your lip.
“It’s okay, you can tell me,” he says.
“It’s not working out how I imagined.”
Clark’s eyes go wide. “What’s not working out? Me and you?”
“No.” You smile at him, then shrug diffidently. “I was trying to be cute, I guess, but I didn’t–”
“Sweetheart, you are adorable,” Clark says, twisting so you can see the defined ridge of every abdominal muscle, better to see you, and better to look at him.
Your mouth goes dry. All you can think of is how you want him to see your new panties, and instead you’ve trapped him in reassurances.
“You’re perfect,” he says, grabbing your knee. “You don’t have to try to be cute, you’re already the cutest girl I know.”
Well, cute was a cop out. Saying sexy out loud felt silly in the moment. This is the messiest of messes.
You let your head hang, defeated. Morose. “Thank you, Clark.”
You are kissed and cuddled, left dampened by his wet hair.
You aren’t brave enough to ask Clark to watch you strip, nor are you eager to stand in the middle of the room and do it. The panties feel soft but too warm all night, every shift a pull of elastic against your skin. You’re a little wet and a lot warm, wanting Clark but not knowing how to ask, and he’s so worried about your self esteem that he doesn’t try to kiss you long enough to let you respond and prompt any action.
It gets to the point where you’re thinking a white lie is in order. You let your heart calm down, and then you get out of bed pretending that you’re gonna turn up his AC. “If that’s okay?”
Your asking helps trick poor Clark. “Obviously you can,” he says, frowning at you where you linger by the door. “You don’t have to ask stuff like that, baby, just go ahead and do it. This is your place too.”
It’s really not, but you like how he says it like he believes it, offering him a bright smile. You practically skip to his thermostat and mess with things, then shuffle back far more calmly, stopping again in the door.
Clark lays against two plush pillows, sheets down, t-shirt ridden up to show his abs again, like he’s trying to drive you crazy. He turns his head against the pillow, brow nearly quizzical at your hesitation.
“What?”
“It’s so hot, do you– am I weird if I strip down?”
Clark sighs, pained again. “What did I just say? This is your place, as good as. Treat it like your own home.”
You take your shirt off first, meandering toward the bed, then pause to shuck it on the bed. Clark picks it up and folds it, but you can see him slowing in your peripherals as you hook your thumbs in the waistband of your pants and bring them down your thighs. You bend to grab them, but then you have nothing to hide behind, dropping them on the bed and climbing back where you’d been, legs up and knees pressed together.
This is when Clark shrieks.
It’s like– quite girly. You imagine he’d make a similar noise when winning the lottery. Multiple lotteries.
“Baby, what are you wearing?” he asks. “Oh my gosh!”
He sounds so, so happy, you are immediately hot from top to toe. “What?” you ask, failing to maintain even a semblance of calm.
“Can I see?” he asks, gentling. “Please?”
You let your legs fall flat without rush nor reluctance.
Clark peers down at you like this is deathly important.
“They are so– you’re so sweet, look at those, you’re so pretty,” he breathes. “When did you get these? I’ve never seen them.”
“Uh. Today, actually.”
“Yeah?” Clark goes to touch you, then hesitates. “Can I?” he asks.
“Of course you can, Clark,” you say, trying not to fall into whispers, “this is your place.”
He grasps the curve of your hip and the silky fabric of your new panties, pressing it down to see the front of you, the bump of your cunt hugged by softness, better displaying the polka dot pattern and the lettuce edged hemming that kisses your inner thighs and tummy.
“I’d say something about your joke if there was enough blood left in my brain,” he says, then blanches, “I mean– darn, you’re so pretty, I’m being too much, I’m sorry.”
“I got them for you. Wore them for you. It’s okay if you like them.”
Clark Kent looks close to tears.
“I love them,” he says, “you are the most beautiful thing, and this is–” He swallows. Shakes his head. Maybe Clark’s laying it on thick, but if he is, you like it. “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. You really got them for me?”
You turn toward him slowly, letting your leg fall onto the other, and covering his hand with yours to press slowly to the apex of your thighs. “I got them for you,” you confirm. Your heart races, but your voice doesn’t tremble. You’ve wanted him to touch you for hours. “Something fun.”
Clark feels the warmth there under his fingers and closes his eyes, groaning quietly, right from the depths of his chest. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says.
You move very gently against his hand. “Please don’t die right now.”
His eyes flutter open, pupils like dimes and a pretty pink flush spotting up his neck. “I almost don’t wanna take you out of them.”
“You could pull them to the side?” you whisper. “I mean– if that’s– you know, if that’s not weird.”
Clark pulls you in for a kiss before he can make any more agonised sounds, the rush of his deep sigh slipping into your mouth as he widens the kiss, his tongue a sudden heat.
𑣲 clark kent who’s the biggest softie you’ve ever met. The first time you met him; it was your first day on the job at the daily planet. You bumped into the guy and spilled lukewarm coffee all over yourselves and you were actually so embarrassed.
You thought he’d be the kind of rough, macho man that you usually met at his size, but you were dead wrong. He was the sweetest, most attentive boy, and he even apologized for not having paid attention like it was his fault, buying you a new coffee just the way you liked it once he got your exact order down.
𑣲 clark kent who’s never cussed once in his entire lifetime. Sure, he reads all those asshole comments about #supershit and whatnot, but other than that, he’s an absolute saint. And yeah, you can’t lie. Once you got to meet him, you thought that whole thing was an act, but really, thats just how he is. He was raised that way!
Stubbed his toe? “Darn it!” he’d mutter in pain under his breath. What can he say? Even the man of steel was vulnerable to wooden tables.
Couldn’t make it to the date he asked you on because of his superman duties?
“Gosh.. m’so sorry, pretty..” he’d apologize with that soft, sweet little voice of his when he feels guilty about something, and you’re so weak for it. even with the silk dress you put on that felt sticky to your skin after an hour of waiting at your apartment.
He’d make it up to you later by cooking you one of his ma’s famous home cooked meals and gazes at you while you tell him about your day like you weren’t real.
𑣲 clark kent who loves to call you by the cutest nicknames ever because he just adores you so much, its hard not to refer to you as “pretty girl” “lovebug” “honey” “sweetheart” “baby” “angel” or even ma’am if he felt like a tease. You’d never admit to him that it actually turns you on.. because it really, really does.
𑣲 clark kent who always notices when you feel fidgety and stressed. He feels it like a sixth sense. He’d cup your face, but you cant really call it that because he was really just squishing it gently to get a little giggle out of you. “There she is.” he’d smile so softly at you.
He couldn’t stand looking at you all blue and gloomy after a hard day of dealing with Perry’s constant tasks. So every time you came home from work, he’d already cooked your favorite dinner. And after that, he’d take a warm bath with you, his chest pressed against your back as he washes the stress of your day away from your skin with his big, calloused, gentle hands.
𑣲 clark kent who after the most mind boggling sex that left your legs shaking and your body exhausted, kisses away your tears and wipes away the hairs that fell onto your face so he can see his pretty girlfriend all fucked out.
He’s so sickly sweet after bruising your guts like he didn’t just break you two minutes before and slips out of you gently, laying back down next to you, coaxing you onto his chest.
It’s so peaceful and you’re afraid you’re getting cavities just by how sweet he is. You fall sleep listening to his heart beat while he combs his fingers through your hair, whispering sweet praises into your ear until his senses tell him that you’re completely calm and dormant.
jbbartram-illu
jacobvanloon
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
