☆°•2,549 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), spanking, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom, doggy, post-sex use, fingering, overstimulation, verbal domination, praise & degradation, unprotected(don't be silly wrap the willy), no aftercare, name calling/pet names(e.g, baby, toy, play thing, and slut), etc•°☆
He drags you across his lap like you don’t weigh a thing.
It isn't because you did anything wrong. You haven't mouthed off or disobeyed. You didn't. You’ve been good. But as he looks down at you, his heavy hand resting on the small of your back, you realize that being good doesn't grant you mercy.
He doesn't need a reason. He does it because he can. He does it because your thighs twitch the second he leans in to breathe against your ear. He does it because your breath hitches when he tugs you down, chest pressed to his thick thigh, ass arched high and vulnerable. Because your entire body melts the second his palm spreads across your lower back like a brand.
He reaches down, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, predatory, and fixed entirely on yours.
You shake your head, unable to find your voice.
He lets out a rough grunt, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Didn’t think so.”
Smack.
The first slap lands hot and loud. It’s a deep, heavy sound that echoes in the quiet room. You flinch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, your hips jerking instinctively. He pins you down with one hand, his fingers spreading possessively over your skin to keep you from squirming away.
“Because I like the sound you make,” he says, his words slow and intentional. “That little gasp. That tremble. Knowing I'm the one putting it there gets me fuckin’ hard.”
Smack. Smack.
You whine, your thighs clenching together. The sting is starting to sink in now—no longer just a sharp bite, but a thick, blooming heat that you can feel deep in your gut. He watches your reaction with a clinical kind of hunger, his eyes tracking the way your breath becomes a series of jagged hitches.
“You gonna wriggle like that the whole time?” he mutters, his hand moving to squeeze a handful of your soft flesh.
“Trying to make me lose my fuckin’ mind?”
You whimper, your heart hammering against your ribs. He doesn't wait for an answer. He keeps going.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Every strike is controlled. Measured. He’s playing a beat into your very bones, and the rhythm is starting to turn your blood into liquid fire.
“You’re not even fighting it,” he mocks, leaning down until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “You love this. You’re so fuckin’ easy for me. I could throw you down, tear into you, and you wouldn’t even ask why, would you?”
Another slap lands, and this time, a raw, loud moan breaks from your throat. You can't help it; the overstimulation is starting to boil over. He leans down further, his teeth grazing your shoulder in a sharp, possessive bite.
“You’re mine,” he breathes, his scent surrounding you. “Mine to grab. Mine to bend. Mine to fuckin’ wear out.”
You nod against his thigh, your voice a fractured thread. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” he prompts, his hand hovering, waiting.
You swallow hard, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable. “Yes—yours.”
Slap.
“That’s right. My favorite little toy.”
His fingers dig into the marks he’s painting across your skin. You can feel the sheer size of him beneath you—the hard, heavy length of him pressing against your hip. You grind down against him, just a little, desperate for a different kind of friction.
He lets out a dark, strained groan. “You don’t get to tease me now,” he says, his voice dropping into a growl as he delivers another sharp slap. “Not when you’re the one laid out like a brat waiting to be used.”
You moan, your body burning with a hunger that feels like it’s going to consume you. It isn't pain anymore; it’s a desperate, pulsing heat in your teeth and in the wet sound of your breath. He slaps you again—just once—harder than all the others, making your vision blur for a split second.
Then, he stops. He lets his hand rest there, heavy and broad, pressing firmly over the sting.
He leans in close, his voice heavy in your ear. “I could fuck you just like this,” he murmurs. “Arched. Spanked raw. Still squirming like you’re begging for more.”
You shiver, your entire frame vibrating under his touch. He slides his fingers between your thighs, touching you once, a slow and deliberate stroke that makes you cry out. “Still so wet,” he teases, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Didn’t even need a reason to get you like this.”
He pulls his hand away, and the sound of his belt shifting is the loudest thing in the room. You hear his breath catch as he prepares himself.
“You want it?” he mutters.
You nod, desperate and ready to break for him. “Please. God, please.”
“Then keep still,” he commands, his voice turning cold and authoritative. “And don't you dare cum until I say so.”
He doesn't give you a second to breathe. He flips you over, his hands rough and certain as they grab your hips. He bends you forward until your chest hits the mattress, leaving your ass high, aching, and completely exposed.
“You look wrecked,” he mutters from behind you. You hear him adjusting himself, the sheer presence of him looming over you making the air feel thick. “Still twitching from the spanking and you’re already leaking for me.”
You whimper into the sheets, your fingers clutching the fabric. You can feel him now—hard, heavy, and massive. He drags the head of his dick through the mess, the friction making your hips buck involuntarily.
“Sloppy for me,” he rasps. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good.”He grabs himself, stroking twice, and then he pushes in. There is no warning.
It is just pure, unyielding pressure and a deep, heavy stretch that makes your breath punch out of you. He is so much bigger than what you’re used to, filling every inch of your entrance until you feel like you’re going to split.
“Fffuck, you’re so tight around me.”
He bottoms out in one steady, relentless thrust. His hips press flush against yours, his full weight pinning you into the bed. One of his massive hands stays locked on your lower back, holding you in place while he grinds in deeper, seeking the very back of you.
“Feel that?” he pants, his voice shaking with the effort of holding back. “That’s your spot. Right there.”
You let out a broken scream, your head tossing back. “Oh my god,” you breathe out, the honesty of the pleasure finally breaking through your pride. “You’re so... you’re so big. It feels so good.”
He let's out a low, mean chuckle that vibrates through your entire pelvis. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath before slamming back in, his dick angled so deep you see stars.
“Yeah? You like being filled up like this?” he grunts, his pace beginning to pick up. “You clamp around me like you’re begging to be broken. Like you want to drown in it.”
You try to speak, to tell him he's right, but all that comes out is a wrecked, wet moan. He leans over your back, his large hand finding a fistful of your hair. He pulls, forcing your head up so he can see your face in the mirror across the room.
“Look at you,” he praises, his voice thick with lust. “Getting fucked dumb, bruised up, and still so damn greedy for more of me.”
Then he starts moving in earnest. Hard. Heavy. Brutal.
His dick hits that same spot again and again—that one place that makes your legs lock and your brain turn to liquid. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows the size of him is a weapon, and he’s using it to ruin you.
And then—Smack.
He spanks you again, his open palm landing on your raw skin with a sharp crack. You jolt forward, your muscles spasming violently around him, clamping down on his length in a frantic rhythm.
“Oh yeah,” he groans, his own voice breaking. “You like that. You like being reminded who’s in control.”
His free hand slides down your front, his rough, hot fingers finding the sensitive space between your thighs. He doesn't care about being gentle; he plays with you like he owns every nerve ending in your body. He strokes messy, heavy circles, his thumb applying a pressure that makes you cry out in a high-pitched wail.
“Gonna make you cum just like this,” he mutters into your ear. “Fucked from behind, spanked raw, while I fill you from the inside.”
You choke on your breath, trying to brace yourself, but it’s impossible. He’s too deep, his thrusts too relentless. Your whole body is bouncing with the force of him, your knees going weak as he continues to pound against that one spot.
“There,” he grunts, his teeth gritting. “You feel that? That’s where I live now. That’s mine.”
Another thrust. Another sharp spank. Your whole body seizes, the pleasure turning into something that borders on a physical overload.
“You’re gonna cum,” he says, his voice a dark prophecy. “I know you are. Just a few more. Just like this, my pretty little slut.”
His rhythm turns sharp and cruel. Every stroke punches against your center, his fingers working you at the same time, his voice a constant, filthy stream of praise and commands. “Cum for me. Give it all to me right now.”
You do.You shatter. Your back arches, your thighs clench, and everything in your world narrows down to the feeling of him inside you. You wail into the mattress, your release hitting you so hard your body convulses in waves, your walls tightening around him in a desperate, rhythmic plea.
“God damn,” he grunts, his voice dropping into a guttural growl as he fucks you through the climax. He doesn't stop; he keeps spanking you between thrusts, riding the edge of your oversensitive twitching until he’s just as wrecked as you are.
You’re trembling. Spent. Completely undone.
And then he goes still.
He buries himself as deep as he can go, a low curse escaping him. He cums inside you with a heavy, soul-deep groan, his dick pulsing thick and hot while his hand stays fisted in your hair. He stays there, his full weight pressing you into the bed, his chest heaving against your back.
When he finally pulls out—slow, wet, and breathless—he grabs your ass one more time, his fingers digging into the marks he left.
“Next time,” he pants, his voice still thick with the aftermath, “I tie you up first. So you really can’t move while I’m using you.”
You would say yes. You would say anything he wanted. But you’re still twitching too hard to speak.
You’re slumped forward, your cheek pressed to the damp mattress, your body still jumping in little aftershocks. You think he’d stop. You think that after making you sob and filling you up, he’d let you catch your breath.
But he isn't finished with you.
He grabs you by the hips, his hands large and unyielding as he spreads you open again. He pushes two fingers inside—slow, thick, and deep.
You jolt, a choked sound leaving your throat.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his chest pressed to your back. “Don’t squirm now. We’re not done yet.”
You whimper, the stretch of his fingers feeling massive after the intensity of his length. You're still slick, still sore, but he doesn't care about your comfort.
“Gotta keep you full,” he mutters, curling his fingers just enough to make your hips twitch. “Can’t waste what I gave you.”
His other hand rests on your lower back, heavy and grounding, reminding you that you aren't going anywhere.
“You took me so good. Came all over yourself like you were starving for it.”
His fingers start to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against that same spot, making your thighs shake all over again. You moan and try to crawl forward, your body bucking against the renewed sensation.
He presses your hips down, hard. “Where the fuck do you think you’re goin'?”
You gasp, the air leaving your lungs. He leans over your back, his breath warm and humid against your shoulder.
“I said we’re not done,” he croons, his voice low and dangerous. “You stay still, you take my fingers, and you say thank you.”
You shake your head, your mind a buzzing mess of overstimulation. You can't even think, let alone speak.
Smack.
His palm lands on your sore ass again, sharp and final.
“Try again.”
You bite your lip, gasping the words through a throat that has gone raw from screaming. “Thank you.”
He hums, the sound vibrating against your spine. He’s still moving inside you, deep and rhythmic.
“Again.”
You cry it now, the desperation taking over. “Thank you—ahmn—God, it feels so good...”
“For what?” he asks, his fingers curling with a cruel precision.You don’t answer fast enough.
Another thrust. Deeper. He’s stretching you out, his thumb finding your center and applying that heavy, agonizing pressure.
“Say it.”
Your voice cracks. “F-for... fucking me. For filling me up. For making me—mghn—fuck—cum again...”
He groans, his fingers working you perfectly. “Good toy,” he mutters, the praise making your heart swell even as your body breaks. “Took all of it. Gonna take more.”
You tremble, your body reaching its limit, but he doesn't let up. He pulls his fingers out just enough to watch your entrance clench around nothing, then pushes them back in, grinding the heel of his palm against you with a heavy, crushing force.
You cry out, a sound that is half-pleasure and half-overload.“Gonna milk my fingers too, baby?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You really that fuckin’ needy for me?”
You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re panting too hard, your vision swimming. But your body is already there—twitching around him, dripping, clenching tight as another wave of release builds in your gut.
He smirks. He can feel it.
“Yeah. That’s it.” His voice drops low, nearly reverent, but still carrying that sharp edge of command. “Come on, baby. Make a mess for me. Let me see how good you break.”
You do. Again. Your body locks up, your breath catching in your throat, as you come hard around his fingers. He works you through every single pulse, staying inside, holding you open, making sure you feel every bit of the ruin he’s caused.
Finally, he stops. He pulls his hand away and lets you fall. He presses a lingering kiss to your spine, right between your shoulder blades.
Then he leans in, his voice low and steady. “Mine,” he whispers. “Always mine.”
But like imagine neighbor! Price, he knows your husband and isn’t that big of a fan of him at all. Leaving you alone for days on end for “business trips”. Price knew that’s not what he was doing. Your husband was a damn junkie. Running up all you guys money on coke and bottles at clubs.
He had seen him while off duty at a club with Gaz and Nikolai. Blowing your money, the money he had spent without your knowledge, on strippers and the several bottles he had bought in the club.
Price being be good neighbor he was had told you. He felt bad when he saw how your heart practically shattered. You were tearing up and ended up crying into his chest. He brought you back into your house where he stayed with you the entire time. Your tears for your husband was soon replaced with tears for John as he had you splayed out on his lap.
“I know baby, I know. Feels good yeah?”
You could barely get your words out as he rubbed your clit for what seemed like forever while he had you propped up on his lap. Tears pouring down your cheeks as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you.
“So good for me doll, let’s make sure you feel real nice now, yeah?..”💭🎀
So,this is for @male-thoughts. A bit of porn to make everyone's day better lol.
Sleepy mornings
Clark Kent x male! Reader
Tw: smut,jerking off,mean reader,kinda sub Clark
Now,being Superman's boyfriend is incredible. That’s like,obvious. You love him to the moon and back and he literally would give you the moon if you as much as asked. He was kind,respectful,funny,and an idiot in the most endearing way possible. He cared for people and genuinely tried to do good things. You loved him for that.
But God was he always horny.
It had been an horrendous week. The type of week that makes you want to throw everyone else out the window. Especially when that everyone else is your boyfriend waking you up by humping you in his sleep at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning. He was hard as a rock,because of course he was,and now you couldn’t fall back asleep because of all the moving.
Now,you could just wake him up and tell him what he’s doing. It would definitely put a stop to it,he would never do anything without your explicit and enthusiatic consent. He might be a bit embarassed,but nothing more than that.
That doesn’t sound very fun,does it? And you’re already awake anyway,why not just helping him?
You huff under your breath and close your eyes back,blindly reaching for his cock. This of course wakes him up,or maybe it was the way your heartbeat probably sped up a bit. You knew he always listened to your heartbeat,a habit more than a choice. He had told you so a few months ago. You don’t wait for him to fully wake up before grabbing his cock in one of your hand,earning a surprised,but not displeased,whine from him. “Darling?” He murmurs grogilly,but you don’t even bother opening your eyes,just giving his dick a clumsy stroke. He moans again,flustered,and unconciously fucks up into your hand. “You woke me up rubbing your damn hard-on on my thigh.” You answer his unasked question,doing your best to glare at him with your eyes still closed. He attempts to apologize but you squeeze him as hard as you can and instead he relases a half moan,half scream kind of sound.
“Shhh. I’m trying to rest here. You’re Superman,you can take some rough play.” You whisper harsly,annoyed. He nods,an apologetic look in his eyes,and moves his hand to cover his mouth to stop a sound as your hand moves again. “And no hands.” You add,shifting to lay down more comfortably. He nods,biting his lips to keep silent. This goes on for a few slow,agonizing minutes,you only occasionally squeezing or stroking his cock,and him trying not to whine or beg you to go faster.
You start to get tired of the game pretty soon and begin to go quicker,your thumb brushing against his tip to gather the precum there and smear it over his length,making the movements easier. Running a finger on the vein running on the underside of his dick,your nails barely scratching it,your eyes still closed all troughout. You fell it pulsating in your hand and the sheets move slightly as he grips them for dear life. You wait until he’s right on the edge,every muscle in his body tensing,his hips bucking up into your hand. You stop for a moment,just to tease him,and he actually cries out. You tsk at him,one eye opening slightly to better glare,and as his mouth open to apologize,or maybe beg,your finger sneaks its way to the tip,playing with it before pressing a fingernail down right over the slit until you know it start to hurt. He was always way more sensitive on his dick,especially when hard. You think it might be related to alien biology or something. Never really cared to ask.
He whines loudly and his hips squirm,unsure whetever to move away from the pain or closer to feel more pleasure. A few more strokes and he’s gone,bucking up in your hand as thick white ropes of cum stain his stomach,the sheets and your wrist. You stroke him trought it and a bit after,just to overstimulate him a bit. You wipe your hand down on his thigh and turn around,finally going back to sleep. At least this time Clark seems way too out of it to wake you up.
T/w: Nanami x male/ftm reader, mlm, mature content, house husband x work husband, slick/orgasm as lube, smut, ribbon bondage (kinda), light spanking, squirting, pet names, praises
Author's note: ,,Hello everyon! >< Been a while, 'n here I am now! With another beautiful holiday drabble/fic :3 hope everyone has had a beautiful December so far, big huggies, stay safe 'n eat ur meals! Drink lots of water too, missed everyone dearly <3"
All I want for Christmas is you.
The front doors open, an exhausted groan falling from his lips. Already removing his shoes to his slippers, stepping inside the house. "Sweetheart, I'm home." Nanami announces himself, but as he did that, you didn't come forward. You didn't greet him back, no, but he did hear rustling noises from the living room.
Not thinking much of it, you were probably listening to music while chilling on the couch. But the sight he was greeted by made him come to a halt, eyes widening slightly, mouth going dry and blood rushes south.
There you were, by the Christmas tree on the carpet. The end of the ribbon in your mouth, seemingly tightening the ribbon that kept your wrists together. Nanami’s jaw seemed to fall open wider when he noticed you weren’t wearing anything but the silky, crimson red ribbon. Covering your intimate part, swirled around your waist and around your chest, covering your beautiful nipples that seemed to strain against the material. He was lost for words, his breath hitching.
When you feel someone staring at you, you turn your head around. Meeting his gaze, a smile appears on your lips while a blush creeps up your neck and colors your cheeks in a bright pink hue.
The ribbon falls from your soft lips, “Oh, baby! You’re home..” You say shyly, looking away again as he approaches slowly. Crouching down to your height, hand coming up to cup your cheek, turning your head to make you look at him. Eyes meeting again, full of warmth, affection and a lingering sense of desire. Attracted to the way his darling boy is looking right now.
A silent communication passing between the two of you before he leans closer, lips inches away. Eyes falling to your lips before back to your gaze, nodding your head slightly, knowing what he wanted and you wanted it too.
Capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, eyes fluttering close and lips moving in a slow dance, Nanami’s free hand finding your hip. Squeezing ever so slightly while pulling you closer, positions switch without tearing away the kiss. Deepening the longer you two kissed, barely being able to catch your breath without starting to feel a bit light. Nanami took notice and pulled away for a moment, letting you catch your breath. Eyes opening to meet yours, already beginning to look like the beautiful mess he always made you.
It didn’t take long before Nanami was thrusting into you, cunt red and puffy from all the slappings you received, welcoming them. Laying on your back, knees up to your chest. Ribbon long forgotten by now, cast aside on the carpeted floor.
Nanami was still taking it slow with you, wanting this to last as long as possible. From how slow he was taking it, you could feel every detail of his cock, from how hot it was to his size to the veins. Dragging against your sensitive walls, still sensitive from the last two orgasms, his previous loads sloushing around inside of you, some had spilled out and onto the couch.
It always surprises you how well you took him each time, because Nanami was far from just average. Maybe it was how small you looked beside him, despite having a bit of chub in a few areas.
You had come to love them, just a bit, all because he made you feel good about yourself.
His hand gripping your hip tightly, fingers digging into the plush skin, earning a whimper from you. His other hand came up to give your puffy cunt another light slap which made your body jolt, earning another whimper. Your nails digging into his triceps, clinging to him as much as possible, practically clawing at him.
Nanami could feel your third orgasm nearing from how much your gummy walls clenching around his length. “Yer close, aren’t ya, doll? Hm? C’mon, cum f’me, baby boy.. Wanna feel this cunt squeeze me,” he coos, leaning down to place kisses and suck at your sensitive part of your neck. Leaving, no doubt, hickies behind for everyone to see.
And you did just that, walls clinging to his size, almost milking him. Squirting around his cock, coming in a high-keen moan. His hand went down to your clit, helping you ride out your high, rubbing it in tight, firm circles. Hips bucking up to meet his touches. Didn’t take long before he came inside of you once again, painting your gummy walls in a fresh, pearly white cum.
Groaning against your neck before collapsing on top of you, panting heavily together, sweaty bodies tangled together. “Did s’good f’me darlin’.. such a good boy, took me s’well..” Nanami whispers against your skin, coming to place a gentle kiss on your lips before leaning away to look at you. Wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corner of your eyes, smiling down at you. Half-lidded eyes looking back up at him, a lazy, fucked-out smile appearing on your lips.
Nanami chuckles before slipping out of you, sitting up and helping you up as well. Carrying you to the bathroom for a long, warm bath. Going to help you come down from your high and relax your muscles.
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@ babydxllboy on tumblr, don’t steal or translate my works as I spend time and effort into these
Credits to original owner for the dividers! @saradika-graphics
I love the idea of dating Jason Todd as a somewhat sugar daddy sort of situation. He pays your rent, won't let you pay for anything when you are together. And he never says no to anything you could ask for if you ask him right after sex. There isn't enough ftm!reader sugar daddy fics/drabbles.
I think Jason would but I also think he’d be so lowkey about it
examples! ˙⋆✮
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
You go out to a coffee shop and you sway back and forth as you try to decide if you want your regular or something—Jason just holds your hand as he waits for you to finally blurt out what you want and before you can even think about the total that the barista announces, his card is pressed against the reader and the transaction had gone through.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
You’re looking over your finances for the month—they aren’t necessarily bad they were just a little tight. You’d probably have to put off your car maintenance for a while because rent and bills had to take priority. Jason bites into an apple as he peeks over your shoulder, looking at your current balance and your expected expenses—he swallows before telling you not to worry about it—he’ll cover your rent and bills, you should go get your car checked out. You try to argue, telling him you could at least split it, it wouldn’t be fair on him to shoulder everything. He argues that it wouldn’t be fair on you considering your salary differences (if you could consider his collections from a drug ring a salary)
You decide to split on percentage the next month. He still insists on paying the full rent (you tuck the $10 you theoretically owe him into his wallet every month).
(Also he looks at your car himself; how silly of you to think you would need to go to anybody else to fix a motor oil when your boyfriend could do it for you.)
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
You stumble into your apartment, exhausted after being awake for 20 hours straight and working some ungoldly shifts—you almost don’t notice the extra pair of shoes sat by your door—the only reason you do is because they are shiny and new and too small to be Jason’s. Your first thought should have been that Jason had invited somebody into the apartment while you were out but that was actually so far from your mind. In what world would Jason bring somebody back to your shared home?? His safe space?
Oh yeah, I bought you a new pair of shoes, he answers casually as you collapse on him. Something about noticing that your current shoes are falling apart so he just bought you the same pair, only with less holes. You mumble something that sounds like a ‘thanks’ and he’s mentioning something about going shopping for more if you didn’t like them anymore but you’re already out like a light
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
➜ ftm specific ♡
It often comes up during late night musings what your plans are for yourself in the future, especially when it came to transitioning. You’d done some of it, but there’s still so much more you want to do—you muse about top surgery like it’s a distant dream and with the current state of your salary and the lack of trans healthcare around, it might as well be. Hope is what keeps you going, but you absently rub at your sternum as you quietly admit to Jason how much of a relief it would be for you when you finally get it. He cups your face, gently rubbing the circles under your eyes as he asks furthering questions, where you want it done, if you have a surgeon in mind yet, what kind of surgery would you want, where would you want to stay to recover.
You answer every questions, it makes it feel more real as you do.
He asks when you want it done and honestly? As soon as you have the funds.
He asks if he can cover it and your heart leaps.
You want to argue, say it’s an insane amount of money and he’d have to cover a lot more than just the surgery because you’d have to skip out on work and you’d have to travel and all that other stuff he might not be thinking about but he’s staring with such earnest eyes that everything dies in your throat. And you nod wordlessly because both of you would love nothing more than for you to feel comfortable in your own body. ♡
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uh,, tada! I didn’t expect to write so much lmao, clearly I missed this
hope you enjoyed ˙⋆✮ the last one almost made me tear up icl
the bell for lunch had just gone off and the halls were quickly filled with students dragging themselves to where they needed to be. some freshman's running between older groups of kids blocking half of the hallways up- you were standing just off to the side of your locker. books from your last class shoved into your locker as quickly as you left the classroom. looking around, you wait for your eyes to pick out a certain heffley to meet you by your locker.
it was a routine the two of you had started, ever since you two met your freshman year. you would wait by your locker, and he would meet you there, whether it be for lunch or to go home- unless he got himself detention. which wasn't rare. ironically though, your schedules hadn't changed much so the routine never really had to change either.
unlike that one time in the first half of junior year.
you pull the front of your jacket to loosen it from the front of your body and begin tapping your foot on the floor. you make note of how the halls have somewhat cleared out, except for a few couples making out in various corners and groups of jocks chatting it up about the upcoming games.
"boo!"
you flinch but you don't jump all the way. rolling your eyes, you turn your body around and see rodrick smirking at you as he leaned on the nearby lockers. "and before you try to deny it- i got you good, you totally jumped."
"yeah, yeah, whatever. what took you so long anyways?" you say as you playfully roll your eyes.
rodrick stands up fully now, his height not fully towering over you, but he still has a few inches on you. "well, it gets cold in school and i somehow couldn't find my jacket that i had brought this morning... but then i remembered-"
your heats begin to have a slight burning sensation as you look down at his jacket that he had let you wear that morning because you were cold.
"i meant to give it back i swear-"
he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours. "oh c'mon you know i don't care. just messin' with you." he begins to walk towards the cafeteria. "besides, you seem more comfortable in my clothes anyways."
closing your eyes in slight embarrassment, you lightly scoff as you begin following behind him. you don't miss the way you can still smell the scent of him on... your jacket.
or the way a smile creeps up onto your face as you look at him.
-
later that week, you went home with him after school. his parents were both out at work that night and his little brother was over his friend's house so you two had it all to yourselves. the warm yellow lights filling the home as you two sit in the living room.
an open box of pizza and garlic knots sitting on top of two more pizza boxes. a random movie playing in the background as you two eat and talk about anything. "your music sounds great by the way." you blurt out.
he perks up at your compliment, and you can see the sparkle in those deep brown eyes. "you..."
"uh duh? why wouldn't i listen to the tape?" you laugh at his facial expression. you had been listening to him play for years now but he had given you a tape not too long ago. you still remember the way he shyly handed it to you with a 'don't mention it- it's a new song anyways'.
"got any more you wanna give me?" a beat passed, the sound of the tv filling the living room. then he practically flew up off of the couch and ran up the stairs towards his room. you quickly followed, setting your plate down on the coffee table and following him.
you find him in his room, shuffling around in his closet as he looks through one of his baskets. rodrick brings one of them out and sets it on his bed as you make your way to him.
after a bit you begin shuffling through the box as well, recognizing some of the tapes as his older songs he made in the garage. others not so much.
however, your eyes catch onto a tape off in the corner of the box under a couple of others. knocking the others to the side you bring grab the tape and begin to read the title. it read... your name?
with a hear-
"that'sss not for you." rodrick states as he snatches it out of your hand. "any of the others but not this one."
but you weren't one to back down from anything. especially when you can practically read the nervousness all over his face. "and why not?" you ask.
you don't let him answer before you two end up fighting over the tape. he holds his hand way above his head as you push up against him on your tiptoes trying to reach it. "let me see it!"
"no!" he slightly pushes you back and tries to make a dash out of his room but you had better ideas. mustering up all of your strength, you grab his arm and pull him close to you. then you push him backwards until he falls onto his bed and climb on top of him- grabbing the tape. "it has my name with a heart next to it- you're gonna explain this one."
the room went silent, save for both of you panting and your heartbeat banging in your ears.
it was only then that you realized his hands had taken place right on your hips and you were sitting flush against him. hips to hips. you both stared into each other's eyes for a moment before he looked away. almost like he was... ashamed?
"it's not what it looks like." he shyly whispers but his eyes don't waver from yours and you can feel his hands tighten around your hips. you lean down lower to his face, tape long forgotten somewhere on the bed. you bring your hands to either side of his face as your face is mere inches from his.
"then tell me what it does look like. cause... i don't know rodrick it seems like you have a lil' crush on me," you whisper, heart racing even faster than before.
his eyes flicker down your face to your lips but quickly go back to your eyes. you lean in and one of his hands on your hips move behind your neck to push you closer to him. "it's-"
"rodrick? (name)? you two up there?"
shit.
his mom's voice runs throughout the house and rodrick practically picks you up off of him and sits you down. he grabs the tape and throws it back in the box with the others and pushes everything back in his closet.
he turns around and sees you sitting there with shock all over his face. "go downstairs what are you doing?" he whisper-shouts and moves you towards his bedroom door.
your feet stumble over towards the door, and you both are met with his mom standing at the top of the steps. "oh there you guys are, everything alright? you left the tv on downstairs," she asks.
rodrick answers before you can though. "yeah everything's fine- right (name)?"
you look back at his mom and put on a smile. "right."
she looks between you two for a moment but quickly turns to go back downstairs. "alright you two, just clean up downstairs for me will you?"
rodrick didn't say much to you after that, he actually closed his door and brushed past you, walking down the stairs.
"i'll just head home."
he nods at you but not before he studies your face for a moment.
you tried to ignore how you felt about what just happened and a part of you wanted to go back in his room and take the tape with you. but you respected him too much to do that.
respected him so much, that you even decided to leave after you took off his jacket and hung it on his doorknob. even giving back the one in your bag. maybe it was the way rodrick's demeanor took a whole 180, or maybe it was the way he blatantly ignored you after... whatever happened in his room.
but what could you really do about it?
so, as you left out the door, and the cool air hit your face you partially regretted not bringing your own jacket with you.
but all you really wanted to do was get home and ignore the tears that began to slowly well in your eyes.
and ignore the thought, that maybe you took it too far with him.
I saw you say you wanted to write for Clark some more could I request a ftm reader who has like a lot of piercings and one day he surprises Clark with like getting Superman jewelry for some of them
Like a belly button piercing or or or nipple piercings like I just recently got mine did and like it hurts but they look so so so so pretty
Clark discovers a new kink (or three)
Summary: Your piercer has some new jewelry and you learn some things about your boyfriend.
Pairing: Clark Kent x Ftm!Reader
Word count: 1.9k
Tags/Warnings: piercings, nipple play, smut, t-dick and hole used to describe sexual parts, implied top surgery, fingering, squirting, creampie, whimpering Clark Kent, a little after care, soft-dom Clark
A/n: Saw this request and couldn’t get it out my mind
You had a decent amount of piercings, you guess. You had your septum, the array of ears, eyebrow, angel bites, navel, and nipples. Lately, you’ve been considering others; a tongue ring, bridge, other lip piercings but you weren’t sure. At least until your friend had suggested you come with her to get her tattoo at your typical studio. You figured, why not. You had some spare cash, enough for a piercing and if you felt like it, you’d get one.
The studio, a little hidden place tucked above a barber shop and a hair salon, had a couple of services. They did tattoos, waxing, piercings, and sold items for all three in the front of the shop. While your friend was getting herself situated, checking in for the appointment and paying while you scanned the piercing shelves, hoping something spoke to you.
And boy did it.
Under the new section sat a wide selection of hero-themed jewelry. It had all the major ones, including Superman. He seemed to be the more prevalent one, considering you were in his city. But in the vast assortment, you couldn’t help but be drawn towards the nipple bars and belly rings.
“Whatchu lookin’ at?” Your friend asks, leaning against the glass as she looks down at the piercings. “Oh, score! They got Wonder Woman, might get the septum one.” The cashier drifts over and you get the three goods been eyeing while she decides not right now. Her septum isn’t healed enough for her to change out the jewelry. It wasn’t a lot, all things considered, less than the spare change you had in your pocket.
The two of you moved to the tattoo booth, her tattoo artist and she began talking while you eyed the jewelry.
Clark was probably still at work, he’d get home around five if there wasn’t someone who needed saving. And fuck, you can almost picture his reaction to seeing you wearing his logo.
While they were still talking about placements, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom to put them on. Half sure that this is safe because why wouldn’t a tattoo and piercing bathroom be sterile and safe but also half driven by the idea of a pent-up Clark. Sue you.
—
As expected, Clark got home exactly ten minutes after he clocked out. The front door was opening as you were lounging, looking for something to watch.
“Hi, I’m home, sweetheart!” He calls before he can even see you.
“Hey, baby! How was work?” The door closes and locks, he’s working on his shoes at the door. Shifting on the couch, you get rid of your shirt and stand up to meet him in the hallway.
“Uh, good. I started working on an article about the number of lead pipes in the city, it’s been approved. What about you? How did Gen’s tattoo go?” His black oxfords get placed neatly on the shoe rack as you wait at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall for him to look up.
“Eh, good. She has another session tomorrow. It’s looking cool,” As he stands to his full height, his eyes fall on your face. He smiles at you, already getting his tie off. You’re a little upset he doesn’t look you over immediately but you’ll forgive him because he’s mid-step, about to say something when he finally notices.
“Christ, is that—?” He’s in front of you faster than you can process, his hands on your hips as he looks at your nipples and then your navel.
“Like them?” You ask, grinning. He looks at you through his eyelashes, licking his lips.
“Like them?” He echoes, dragging his left hand up to your nipple and rolling his thumb over it. He’s breathing loudly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, his focus on the way your nipple hardens next to his symbol. Fuck, his symbol. “I love them,” He mutters while you hold his forearms, eyes half-lidded because he brings his right hand to do the same to your other nipple. It perks up just like the left one and soon enough, you moan a little at his actions.
He groans before he picks you up, his hands now firmly planted on your ass. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you undo his tie, tossing it to the ground, hoping Krypto doesn’t destroy it if he ends up finding it.
You’re on the bed soon after, the door shut and locked as if Krypton had grown thumbs and could open the door that way. Clark makes a point of turning the light on, slowly stalking to the bed as you lay there, your new jewelry shining in the light.
“You’re driving me crazy,” He drags out, climbing onto the bed from the end.
“Am I?” You tease, looking down at him, now propped up on your elbows. He groans a nod as he climbs on top of your legs, his hands planted firmly on either side of your thighs. Opening your legs, you watch as his eyes dart down, catching sight of your navel piercing again. It dangles, flipped over to the side without his symbol isn’t showing and that simply won’t do.
He looks up at you as he flips it over, making sure you watch as his hand ghosts over the piercing and down to the waistband of your boxers. Clark ignores it completely, dragging his index and middle finger down until he reaches your slit.
Once he does, he opens the flap on the boxers and grabs your t-dick, giving it slow strokes. “Fuck,” You whimper, your back arching a little as he does. Grabbing his head, you grip his hair and fall flat on your back. Carefully and without removing his hand, Clark climbs further up on you until he’s eye to eye with your nipples. You watch as he leans down, his tongue slowly dragging from his lips before they latch onto your nipple.
His teeth graze over it, his canines catch in the metal bar enough that it tugs. The pain is that awfully good pain that you need to chase, pressing your chest closer to his face. His hand ghosts over your scars, reaching up to give your other nipple the same attention.
“Clark,” You shudder.
“Kal-El,” His voice is an almost whimper of a plea. “Fuck, call me Kal-El, please.” His eyes meet yours and you nod. You’ve heard his birth name countless times, it’s not typically something he wants you to call him. But you have, and usually always get the same reaction— save you’re not calling him while injured.
“Kal-El,” You breathe as his lips return to your perky nipples. He groans, fisting the bed sheets, and humps the air aimlessly. “I need you, Kal-El,”
“You have me,” He promises, detaching and going over to your other nipple. He gives it licks between his words. “My mind, my body, my soul, my future— my everything.” His eyes focus on his symbol, his family crest stuck on your body unless it was deliberately removed. His home and his hope, inside of you.
“Fuck,” He groans and raises to his knees, his care for his shirt gone out the window as he literally rips it off, discarding the fabric to the floor. He does the same for his pants and boxers before he looks at you for approval. Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod and lift your hips, watching as he easily tears your boxers off as if they were paper.
He leans down, slowly sliding his middle and ring finger inside of you, the rest of his palm covering your t-dick. Your thighs quiver at the feeling, clenching around his wrist as Clark keeps eye contact with you.
“Kal—“ You gasp, feeling him work your insides. He nods, egging you on as he continues to finger you, his free hand working on pumping his already hard cock. As your chest heaves, his eyes switch back to your stomach, watching as the dangling charm bounces with each shaky breath you take. “Kal-el, please.” You manage.
He speeds up, his fingers quickly getting drenched and the room filling with wet, sloppy noises. “That feel good?” He asks and you nod wildly, your moans not letting you get a word out.
“So good,” You clench around him, the same way you do when you’re about to cum and he slows down before pulling his fingers out from you. “No, please Kal-el,” Grabbing his wrist, you try to pull him back inside but he laughs, pulling his arms behind his back before leaning down and kissing you. Kissing him back, you grind down on him, trying to get that high back.
Clark pulls away from the kiss, his lips dragging down your chin and neck while he keeps his eye contact. “Be patient, sweetheart,” He says while grabbing his dick, rubbing it up and down your slit before he slips the tip inside. With his free hand, he presses your stomach to the bed, keeping you in place as you whine. He has the audacity to laugh at you, slipping the tip in and out just to see you try and chase him.
“You’re being so mean,” You frown. “Please, baby.” Deliberately, you run your hands up your chest, flicking the metal bar that makes the S symbols on the end bounce. When his eyes zero in on the bar, you know you’ve gotten him and grind down again. This time, he slips past the tip and you let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering closed. Slowly, Clark rolls his hips, watching as he disappears inside of you, watching how your legs move and twitch with each slow, hard thrust.
It doesn’t last long though, as his eyes return to your face and he starts to pick up his pace. He leans down, kissing and sucking along your neck while you struggle to find a grip with the new pacing. Clark’s not faring any better, he’s a whimpering mess in your ear. Pathetic noises that leave him are like music to your ears.
You’re holding onto the headboard with one hand, the other is scratching at his back as he pounds into you. “You feel so good,” He slurs into your neck. “Taking all of me, like a good boy.” Your back arches up in the air as you struggle to make coherent sentences, tears budding in the corner of your eyes.
When you tighten around him, he looks at you, his wet eyelashes clumping together in a way that makes your toes curl and- for the first time- you squirt. He looks down, seeing his pelvis wet from it, and it rolls off of him and onto the bed. The feeling, the sounds, and the sight make Clark moan loudly, spilling into you. Despite it, he keeps himself inside of you, his dick slowly getting soft as his cum slowly seeps out.
He pants, rising up to his knees. His dick pulls out from you with a small pop and you twitch, staring at the ceiling. “Are you okay, baby?” He hurriedly asks, scooping you up. Blinking, you lick your lips before looking at him.
“Holy shit,” You chuckle, messing with his curls. “I should’ve gotten those sooner.” He snorts and picks you up properly, carrying you into the bathroom where he prepares a nice bath after cleaning you up.
—
Two days later, Clark doesn’t know how to react when you show off your new tongue piercing. His symbol lay flat on top of it. All he knows is that this is going to be a long, long, six weeks.
