Summary: You jokingly ask Clark if you are allowed to eat in front of his parents.
Dad Clark Kent x Fem!Reader
more kent family adventures here!
even more kent family adventures here! (pt 2 of the masterlist)
By the time you were eight months pregnant with Leia, one thing had become very clear to everyone around you: Clark would do absolutely anything for you.
Which was precisely why the prank had been so tempting.
The prank simply appeared in your mind while sitting at the Kent farmhouse table on one warm afternoon, watching Clark pile food onto your plate for the third time before you’d even fully finished the second helping.
“Honey, you need more potatoes,” he said earnestly, already reaching for the bowl.
“Clark,” you laughed, “I’m still eating.”
“You’re eating for two.”
Ma Kent snorted softly from across the table. “At this point, that baby’s probably ninety percent mashed potatoes.”
Clark looked entirely unashamed. “They will be a very healthy, growing baby.”
You bit back a smile.
That was the thing about Clark during your pregnancy, he hovered.
Did you need water? A pillow? Another blanket? Less blanket? A snack? Different snack? Did your back hurt? Were your feet swollen? Had you rested enough? Too much? Was the baby kicking enough? Too much?
The man treated your pregnancy like the world’s most important mission.
And it made him very, very easy to fluster.
And suddenly, sitting there at the table with Ma and Pa Kent, watching your husband lovingly shovel corn onto your plate like he was personally responsible for feeding both you and the baby, the idea struck.
You looked down at your half-full plate thoughtfully.
Then, very gently, you asked, “Clark… am I allowed to have some more?”
Clark didn’t even look up.
“Of course,” he said immediately, mouth still full, already spooning another helping onto your plate. “You barely ate any! Here, have more chicken too.”
You pressed your lips together. You continued carefully, in the smallest voice you could manage. “Are you sure?”
Clark blinked at you. “Sure about what?”
“That it’s okay for me to eat more?”
Clark stared at you for a long moment. Then looked at your plate. Then at you again.
“…Yes?” He sounded deeply confused.
You nodded solemnly, “Okay,” and resumed eating.
Clark reached for the biscuits.
“You want another one?”
“Yes please.”
“Here you go, my love.” He handed it over immediately.
You sighed as your prank failed, silently waiting for another opportunity.
-
Said opportunity was when Ma Kent brought out dessert.
Her specialty peach cobbler was still warm, the smell filling the kitchen instantly.
“Oh my goodness,” you sighed dramatically. “That smells amazing.”
Ma Kent smiled warmly. “Go on, honey, have some.”
You coached your face to look anxious, worried, then slowly turned toward Clark.
“…Am I allowed?”
The room went silent.
Clark froze with the serving spoon halfway in his hand.
Ma Kent blinked. Pa Kent’s expression changed immediately into a frown.
“Allowed?” Ma Kent repeated.
You looked down shyly. “Well… I just wanted to check first.”
Clark looked like his soul had briefly left his body.
“Why would you…what do you mean allowed?”
You kept your face perfectly straight. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Clark nearly choked. “Why would it upset me?”
Ma Kent’s eyebrows shot up.
Pa Kent set down his fork, slowly and very carefully.
Clark turned toward you so quickly his chair squeaked against the floor.
“Honey, what are you talking about?”
You blinked innocently. “The cobbler.”
“The cobbler…”
“Yes.”
Ma Kent turned to Clark at the same time he looked at you incredulously.
“Clark,” she said carefully, “why would she need permission to eat dessert?”
“I—she doesn’t!” Clark’s brows were furrowed with concern, slowly feeling like he was unnecessarily put on the hot seat. “Why would you need my permission to eat cobbler?!”
You shrugged lightly. “Well, you may not want me to eat any more.”
Ma Kent slowly turned toward her son.
“Clark Joseph Kent.”
Clark’s eyes widened in immediate horror.
“No! No, no, no—Ma, I swear—”
Pa Kent crossed his arms.
Clark looked even more panicked.
“I have literally never stopped her from eating anything in her life! She eats whatever she wants, whenever she wants. I've actually been actively encouraging her to eat more because she sometimes forgets in the afternoon and the doctor said…" He caught himself, and looked back at you. "What is going on?”
You tilted your head. “But maybe you didn’t want me eating cobbler specifically?”
“Why would I not want you to?!”
Clark looked moments away from a full system shutdown.
“Honey,” he said frantically, stumbling over every word, “I have never, not once, told you what you can or can’t eat. Or do. Or wear. Or…anything!”
Ma Kent was now openly suspicious. “Clark…”
“No! Ma, listen to me—I swear, she does whatever she wants! Constantly! Happily! And I support her! Enthusiastically!”
You nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true.”
Clark pointed at you wildly. “See?!”
“But maybe secretly you don’t like how much I eat?”
Clark looked genuinely devastated.
“What?! No, Ma, Pa, listen to me. I’ve never told her not to do anything she wanted! Ever! If anything, she tells me what to do!”
He turned back to his parents, fully distressed now.
“I am not controlling! Right? I’m not controlling.”
Pa Kent finally spoke, voice low. “Son…”
Clark turned toward him in absolute panic. “Pa, I swear to God, I have never denied her anything in my entire life! I don't restrict her eating. I don't restrict ANYTHING! I don't tell her what to do. I would never." Clark's voice had taken on the slightly desperate quality of a man watching a small fire and patting his pockets for something to put it out with. "She has complete autonomy over everything. Every single thing. I've never once told her she couldn't eat or do or–"
"Clark," you said.
“--have anything she wanted, I mean she went through a period in the second trimester where she wanted a very specific brand of crackers at two in the morning and I flew forty minutes to three different stores to find them, I have the receipts, I can show you the receipts–”
“Clark.”
“--and I don't know what this is right now but I need everyone at this table to understand that I am not and have never been–”
“CLARK.”
He stopped his rambling.
He looked at you.
You were smiling. A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Then suddenly you were laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach.
The entire table stared at you.
“Oh no,” Ma Kent whispered, already realizing.
You wheezed helplessly, tears gathering in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I’m sorry…I was joking.”
Silence.
Clark blinked.
“…What?”
You covered your face, laughing harder. “It was a prank, baby.”
Clark stared. Ma Kent burst into laughter instantly.
Pa Kent leaned back in his chair.
Clark remained frozen. “You…”
“I’m sorry,” you laughed again. “You were just so easy to fluster.”
Clark looked deeply betrayed.
“I thought Pa was about to kill me.”
You grinned at Pa, “He was in on it,” you confessed, remembering how Pa chuckled gruffly when you told him about your plan.
Clark dropped back into his chair dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest.
“I cannot believe you.”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek sweetly.
“I’m sorry I scared you, honey. You're a wonderful husband," you said. "Why do you still have the receipts?"
He put his arm around you, and you could feel him giving up on the wounded dignity, the whole structure of it just gently collapsing.
"Souvenirs," he said again, quieter, “I didn’t want to forget anything about your pregnancy. And so that I could show our baby that I would do anything for them.”
You smiled at him, cupping his cheek tenderly before giving him a kiss. Clark turned pink.
"Forty minutes,” he reminded you, “Three stores."
"I know."
"In the rain."
"It wasn't raining."
"It was drizzling." Clark sighed deeply.
You laughed, then immediately reached for the cobbler.
Clark instinctively grabbed the serving spoon and loaded a giant portion onto your plate.
Clark peers down at the notification on his phone screen curiously. He’s a little too busy arranging a bouquet at the moment to open it—he likes to buy a couple from the florists and hodgepodge them into behemoth, beautiful arrangements for you. You deserve them. The first time he made you one you got teary-eyed, and spent the night sitting under his arm like some dearly loved creature too happy to move away from him.
The phone pings again with an attachment, a photograph. He abandons the pink sprig of teeny flowers and picks his phone up, the screen covered in green trimmings and splashed water.
Clark opens the notification. It immediately displays your photograph full screen: it’s a selfie, sort of, with the majority of your face and shoulders and the soft valley of your chest, and just behind you there’s a butterfly caught in motion.
Clark smiles. So beautiful, he texts back.
Isn’t it! Blue wings, that’s an emperor butterfly? you respond.
Not the butterfly, you. You are so beautiful. Where are you?
There’s a couple of seconds, and then, to his delight, another selfie, sitting in the same place with the sunshine on your skin. The only difference is the park now shown behind you. You’re out with friends, and must’ve stopped in Metropolis Park to enjoy the spring-to-summer heat.
At the park. Do you want to come and get me? They’re all going home, but it’s so nice.
Clark stares at you. It must’ve taken you half a second to capture a photograph of yourself, and you’ve never looked so beautiful. Smiling, eyes tired from an early morning, your lashes in a crush at the corners of your eyes.
You’re perfect. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, he texts.
So you’re not coming to the park? you ask. Then, quickly, you don’t have to say stuff like that.
Clark sends off a last message that says he is absolutely coming, scooping the arrangement out of the vase and wrapping it in a scrap of wax paper. You deserve flowers now, right now, his heart practically racing as he thinks of you waiting for him in the grass. So pretty. He wishes you could read his mind sometimes, to realise the extent of his appreciation, and to appreciate yourself with more tenacity, but he does not mind doing the reminding.
When he finds you, he almost melts. “Here you are,” he says, the bouquet as big as his chest, flowers tucked up under his chin and at the bottom of his view, framing you where you’re looking up at him with delight. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I looked everywhere, but I finally asked someone if they’d seen the prettiest girl in the world and they pointed me to you.”
You climb up on your knees with your arms out. Clark leans down to kiss you, the flowers reflecting gentle colour onto your neck.
Imagine surprising Clark by shaving your bush into the shape of a heart.
Like, he gets home after a long day at the Daily Planet; he's exhausted, and all he wants is for you to suffocate him with your thighs and pussy for at least an hour. Multiple hours if he had his way.
Of course, you don't deny him; his puppy eyes are impossible to resist, but when you finally tear off your panties, he's met with…
A heart.
He’s met with a heart.
Yeah, he audibly whimpers. Like full-on whines. He also might've just cummed a little. Ignore the stain, please. If he wasn't so pussywhipped, he'd be embarrassed.
“So, uh—” he gulped. “—watcha got going on there?”
You giggled, more like cackled, at his awestruck demeanor. “Do you like it? I did it just for you.” You pointedly wiggled your hips, and for a moment he swore he saw heaven.
This was unfair. You sprawled out on his bed, completely bare, and with a fucking heart between your legs. How was he supposed to survive?
Superman, Kal-El, the last son of Krypton, defeated by his girlfriend shaving her bush into a heart.
“Thank you, Universe, for blessing me with this gift of a woman.” He bowed his head in silent prayer, muttering the words beneath his breath.
“Are you seriously praying?” you snickered.
“I’m saying grace.”
“Amen.” He gave one final bow of his head, then leaped forward, burying himself between your thighs. Where he was meant to be.
warnings: mild language, light teasing, mentions of smoking
synopsis: you ask aki what his first impression of you was.
the floor creaked under your feet as you padded into the kitchen, stretching your arms high above your head, oversized t-shirt sliding up your thighs just a little. aki stood at the sink with his back to you, sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, the sound of running water and the clink of dishes filling the quiet apartment.
his hair was tied up, a few wisps falling against his neck, and you watched him for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, admiring the soft curve of his shoulders and how peaceful he looked doing the most mundane thing in the world.
you walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, cheek resting between his shoulder blades.
“tell me what you thought of me when we first met.”
he didn’t turn around. didn’t even flinch. just kept rinsing a cup like you hadn’t dropped a question heavier than the silence you walked into.
“hm?” his voice was calm, like always.
“i’m serious,” you mumbled against his back. “your exact first impression. what you were doing. what you were thinking. how you were standing. i want all of it.”
now he sighed, reaching over to shut off the water and setting the last glass onto the rack. he turned in your arms, your palms now flat against his stomach, eyes lazily trailing up his chest as he looked down at you.
“you’re not gonna let this go, huh.”
“nope.”
he paused. then ran a hand through his hair, flicking the dampness off his fingers before crossing his arms.
“alright. but you’re not gonna like it.”
you grinned and stepped back, motioning to the open kitchen like it was a stage. “reenact it. i need visuals.”
he blinked slowly. “you’re annoying.”
“and yet here you are.”
aki rubbed at the bridge of his nose like he was preparing for battle. then walked over to the counter, standing stiffly next to it.
“it was a mission briefing,” he started, voice flat like he was reading from a textbook. “i was standing… right about here.”
“okay.” you sat down on the barstool, chin in your hand. “and me?”
“you walked in late.”
you laughed. “classic.”
“you were wearing a jacket two sizes too big and had your hands stuffed into your pockets. your hair was messy and you didn’t look at anyone.”
“oh?” your eyes sparkled. “was i mysterious?”
he gave you a flat look. “you were chewing gum with your mouth open and told kishibe to ‘scoot over, old man.’”
you wheezed. “and what did you think?”
aki exhaled through his nose, pretending to roll his shoulders like he was back in that room, arms crossed again, mimicking how he stood. he turned his head slightly, pretending to glance at you. his voice dipped into a quiet mutter.
“i thought, ‘great. another pain in the ass.’”
you gasped, laughing, hitting his arm. “aki! rude!”
“i was right, wasn’t i?”
“no! okay—yes—but you didn’t know me yet! what was your face like?”
he stared at you.
“show me!”
he sighed again, but he looked away for a second, shoulders lifting like he was hiding the smallest smile.
then he turned back to you, standing with a slight lean to one side, lips pursed just a little and brows subtly furrowed. it was subtle. but very him.
“that’s it?” you squinted. “you didn’t squint suspiciously or arch a brow?”
“i don’t make cartoon faces.”
“you’re so boring.”
he raised an eyebrow at you. “and yet you’ve been obsessed with me since day one.”
you huffed, crossing your arms, but your smile gave you away.
“okay, but like… when did that change? when did you stop thinking i was a pain in the ass?”
he stepped closer, standing between your knees now, his hands finding your hips. his thumbs rubbed slow circles into the bone there, and his voice was lower now, quiet enough that only you could hear.
“probably around the time i caught you sneaking food to denji when you thought no one was looking.”
“oh?” your brow lifted. “so soft spots for strays turn you on?”
“no,” he murmured, leaning down, lips brushing your ear. “soft spots in general. like when you made me tea that night i came home late. or when you watched movies with power even though she talked through the whole thing. or when you stole cigarettes out of my pack to try and get me to quit and denied it even though you’re the worst liar alive.”
you were quiet now, watching him with wide eyes, lips parting just a little.
he looked at you like he was still in that first meeting but this time, with softness behind his gaze.
“and when you fell asleep on the couch with your head on my lap and you drooled on my pants,” he added.
you shoved him with a laugh. “ugh, you ruined it.”
“you asked.”
“fine,” you said, pulling him closer by his shirt. “what was your first nice thought about me?”
he tilted his head like he was actually thinking about it. then ran his fingers up the sides of your arms, sliding them under your shirt at the waist.
“it was after a mission. you had a scratch on your face, and you didn’t complain about it once. but when we got back, you let me clean it for you. you flinched when the antiseptic hit your skin but tried to hide it.”
you looked down at his chest.
“i remember that,” you whispered. “you were really gentle.”
he nodded. “you said, ‘thanks, nurse hayakawa.’”
you laughed into his chest.
he kissed your forehead and pressed his nose into your hair.
“i think that was the first time i realized i cared about you.”
your hands found the back of his neck, thumbs brushing against the soft hair at his nape.
Since your inbox is open.....how about free use with roommate clark kent and reader
hi amor! y'all are quick w this. i'm gonna assume that you've also read the other roommate!clark i did for kinktober. between u n me…missed them BAD.
tags: pwp, smut, f!reader, roommate!clark, free-use themes, clark fucks reader from the back while she's cookin, lowk a lil asshole!clark (1k + wc)
—
"i'm back."
you don't lift your head at the sound of that familiar drawl. plastic bag rustling in his hands as he shucks his shoes by the doorway. "they didn't have Diet Coke. so…i got some… off-brand…spiced soda."
it was fairly easy to have set that one cardinal rule with having clark kent as your roommate — you could never, ever fuck each other. both of you had agreed that it would've been too messy to deal with. its potential fall-out, or awkwardness of running into each other on campus if you did indulge.
"not the same thing, asshole."
consequently, it was just that easy to break it.
the shuffling behind you grew closer. routine sounds you'd connected to clark's arrival. keys, bag against the floor, and then —
"jus' keep cooking." his voice comes as a heady, lazy murmur, it trails down your pulse, leaving goosebumps in its wake. you feel his weighty palms slide past the quilted apron you had on, shuddering as his thumbs skim past the hem of your shirt.
"seriously." you manage, with a shaky palm coming down to rest on the aged mosaic tiles. clark's inhaling the warm, sweaty skin at your pulse, nipping over the marks he'd left on you the day prior had begun to fade. "n-not — anywhere visible!"
he grunts at your swat, the gentle curve of his nose now tracing up your jaw and ears. "hey —" he calls out, tugging you hard against his chest, enough for you to feel the hard line of his erection poking your lower back. "water's boiling over."
you gasp sharply, chucking the wooden spoon to lay horizontal on the ceramic pot. "no shit," you manage, squirming a little as he rolls his hips against your ass. "…y-you're…distracting me."
clark only laughs at your complaint, his palm having slid upward, rested under your breast. his nail skims the soft fat there, and last your sensitive nipples. you yelp, clutching over his forearms.
"smart girl like you can't multitask?"
"t-that's…" you swallow thickly at his taunt, relaxing further into his chest at the gentle squeeze of his palm over your tits. "not...fuckin'…fair.."
"c'mon, it's gonna get all soggy." he nods his chin toward the still-boiling water, and you begrudgingly turn the stove off.
it was damn-near impossible to focus on scooping out the pasta, some of the cooked noodles falling into the sink at his wandering hands. callouses dragging down your ribs. "careful." he chides, sliding his hand down the waistband of your bottoms.
you jerk forward hard in surprise, palms pressed heavy against your clit. his two digits slides between your folds, rubbing you slowly. the spoon clatters onto the dishrack at every needy nudge of his fingers in your pussy. "fuck….kansas —"
he whistles, low, much more brazen in his touches as your arousal coats him. "shit. you're soakin' me." he coos, tugging your trousers halfway down your thighs. you don't protest, looking over your shoulder hazily to meet his gaze.
your pussy pulses around nothing at the loss of his digits, all achy for more. he grunts low, at the slight nudge of your ass against his pelvis. holding you still by your hips. "…easy now."
a shuddered breath leaves you at the press of his bare length, half-tucked out of his shorts, rested at the line of your spine.
"told you to keep, cooking…didn't i?" you feel the thickness of his girthy tip, drag past the globes of your ass, resting it flush against your folds. you whine, clutching tightly around the rag.
"a-are you kidding me?" you manage in a soft squeak, hips nudging backwards to meet the languid thrusts he provides, tip catching your clit at every move.
"m'not."
the lucidness in his words make you shudder, and you take a shaky glance toward the sauté pan he's nudged your way. you squeeze your eyes shut, hands trembling as they clutch around the handle, lifting them onto the stove.
"atta girl."
your breath stuttered at the gentle probe of his tip, pressing insistently into you. "don't stop. please." your fingers fumble to turn the stove back on, and he rewards you with an inch.
"mm—hn."
clark's palm comes up to rest at the column of your throat, tilting your head up. you don't react to the sizzle on the pan as he deposits the mise en place, laid all organized on your cutting board.
"gonna let anyone fuck you like this, huh? that easy?"
your cheeks flush at his words, locking your gaze with his as he bottoms out fully in you. rolling his hips, setting a quick and hard pace.
"you think — nngh…fuck, just anyone's got the keys to my apartment?" you pull away from his hold, resting the back of your head against the crook of his neck. every thrust felt way too fucking good despite the initial sting.
"nah…just me." he smiles to himself, pants turning much more bated at every snap of his hips. "only i get to fuck you like this, mm?"
his voice is everywhere around you, in that needy, teasing intensity that threatens the familiar roll of your eyes whenever you were getting close. "l-like that, harder." your hands clutch around his forearm, meeting his thrusts halfway.
"ugh.. squeezing me so t—ight." he lowers his head, words muffled as he mouths at your neck. biting down at your pulse, the snaps of his hips grow more frenzied and urgent. clark's palm presses down hard at your clit, rubbing you until your body goes rigid in his hold, giving his cock a delicious series of pulses down his length.
"shit, oh shit shit." clark lets you come down from your orgasm, taking in the gentle squeezes of your cunt.
your body bucks forward, dangerously close to the steam radiating off the flame, clark catches your forehead before you got too close, groaning incoherent mumbles to your cheeks as he pulls out at the very last second.
he pumps, clumsily, the sound of the wet, thick soaps as he cums with a shudder, all over your lower back. you're completely putty, slumped against his chest, and you hear the distinct click of the stove, snapping you out of your orgasmic haze.
your gaze falls to the stove, where clark's effectively turned the gas off to a pan full of black, burnt vegetables.
clark’s obsession with buying you clothes is getting worse. he feels like a freak, convincing you into department stores ‘cos he knows you’ll get stuck eventually, that you’ll ask for his opinion and let him choose, and he can beat you to the card reader, rocking subtly on your heels with your own type of pleasure as the attendant bags your purchase and smiles at you like she’s happy you found one of the good ones.
you know what he’s doing. clark likes dressing you and you like to be dressed. he doesn’t always care about the choosing, only the paying, finds smugness in the fullness of your wardrobe, how you have to start putting dresses in his closet, your socks in with his. it becomes normal in that you stop feeling guilty aloud, but you always say thank you, and clark– clark’s not even sure he cares. he doesn’t do it for your gratefulness, he just feels as though you deserve to have the things you want, and gets enough gratification from seeing you in things he knows he bought day after day.
eventually, your wardrobe is full. you don’t need another dress, or another pair of shoes. it’s borderline wasteful to keep it going—you can’t wear it all. and clark starts to experience withdrawals. he is accepting, he’s happy, he loves you, and he misses buying your panties. he doesn’t know what to do to chase the high. you keep wearing the things you love and he’s happy for you, but clark needs something. for a little while he gets really into marking up your neck with nips and hickeys, but it’s not the same, and you only have so many turtle necks.
you must feel sorry for him. poor girl, you don’t seem the type to care about seasonal dressing to such a degree, but one day you slink onto the bed with your hand rubbing softly against his knee and ask if he’d mind helping you pack away your winter clothes. make some room for summer, you murmur, ever-so-slightly uneasy, like you’re worried even now that he’s gonna find you presumptuous.
yeah? he breathes. i don’t mind, honey. we can vacuum pack them and box them in the linen closet. when do you want to do it? tomorrow?
tonight? you ask. the weathers gonna turn soon… I might need, you know, some new blouses, some lighter skirts… what do you think?
what does clark think? clark thinks he’d bankrupt himself if he wasn’t saving for a house with a big closet and a bigger bed. he’d spend it all on you.
when clark’s fucking you too good you just have to rub your clit to get yourself over the edge — but then he’s just so big, everywhere, that you can’t squeeze your hand between his heavy body on yours.
so what does he do? turn you the fuck over, forcing your thighs apart as he lays you — with your back to his chest, and then those big hands of his would slide down your soft, sweat-slick body to rub your clit for you.
circling his flattened fingers, palming her so fast n’ good until you’re squirting cumming on his cock.
in which, the great fire lord zuko… happens to be an “inexperienced loser” and gets taught about intimacy by his trusty maid
tags: smut + porn w/ a semi-fluffy plot, reader teaches zuko, he’s very awkward…, unrequited love (or so it seems…), you get caught, arranged marriage. #unedited, insp by this + art by @/n_i_k_e_l on twt <3 author’s note at the end!
“The council has decided; we need an heir, sir.” The annoying chamberlain kept droning for the last hour or so, and Zuko was beginning to get irritated.
It’s been a few years since his coronation, and a few years of the council trying to set him up with any refined lady the Fire Nation had to offer.
“But I’m not married,” he replied.
It clearly hasn’t worked.
An advisor cleared their throat. “We know that and… actually there’s a new fine miss in our radar who happens to—“
Zuko could feel his patience running thin and abruptly stood up.
“Dismissed.” “B-But, sir!” Zuko turned to the chamberlain and advisors behind him, tone evidently laced with malice.
“I said this meeting is dismissed.”
The men scurried along like rats, leaving Zuko in his study… contemplating.
Aang and Katara are engaged to be married, Sokka is currently with Suki—even Toph has someone!
Zuko is a prideful man; he’s the Fire Lord for crying out loud… But even he can admit that he lacks in areas. Specifically…when it comes to being charismatic and a particular insecurity he has.
Zuko sucks at flirting and specifically being brazen.
He’s been on approximately 45 dates in the past year… and not one lady has been interested. Or rather they have been, until he opens his mouth.
But not even that; if there was one thing Zuko was absolutely embarrassed about, it was his lack of experience when it comes to sex. He was a virgin, a prude, and shuddered at the thought of having to have his first with some random woman he never met.
There was even one time the council suggested concubines… there was no way in hell he’d do that (since… as disgustingly sweet as it is… he wanted to be an intimate relationship with someone he considered close).
Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he’s put off so many of those candidates, but a small part of him sulked at the fact that he’s going to have to have a wife sooner or later, and then have an heir.
“I can help you.”
Zuko’s lips pressed to a fine line, looking at your direction to see any reaction. Your face was completely neutral.
He’s always told you his dilemmas, and this was no different. You’d always come up with a solution or compromise, but for some reason, he felt especially… on edge.
You—L/N Y/N—have known Zuko since you two were children, as he attended the same school as you did for a few years before you and your father—were officially promoted to head staff, and you, Zuko’s handmaiden.
Zuko remembers how you always followed him back in his childhood—answering to every beck and call; he remembers how sweet you were, how compassionate too, and how you’d encourage him when it came to Fire Bending.
You never showed a sign of protest when it came to anything, always a neutral look on your face.
And he couldn’t lie, you were absolutely stunning (despite said neutral look), but he couldn’t help but be put off even more.
“R-Really?” His skin turned flushed.
“Mhm,” you hummed, sipping your tea calmly like you didn’t just make Zuko mentally haywire. You were currently sitting across from him, drinking tea with just him in the room while you listened to his problems like always. “I’m not some random woman, aren’t I? I can teach you.”
He nodded hesitantly. “No, you’re not.”
He’ll admit, he has to get with the times. Not many people are saving their chastity and he has to stop being scared. Especially when it comes to wanting to romance others.
“And how so? How would you teach me?”
You shot him a smile. “Trust in me, my Lord. Everything shall be situated.
Zuko cleared his throat, glancing once more at your neutral face and nodded gently. “When do you suggest we start?”
“Whenever you’d like, my Lord.”
—————
lesson one: foreplay
Zuko thought it over, coming to a conclusion two days later and then asking you to come to his chambers later at night where the rest of the staff wouldn’t see you.
He sat there, robe hastily put on and sat there awkwardly at the corner of his bed, waiting. And then he began thinking.
Zuko’s known you for a while—you’ve been at his service for a long time. Hell, there was even a moment in time where he had a crush on you.
It was back when he would stride alongside his mother around the palace, constantly meeting your eyes every time he glanced over where your father would be working. Then you’d smile at him and his heart would be pounding; his mother knew, maybe even Azula knew—she’d certainly mess with you sometimes, but overall respected you (more than him at least).
Sure, you were a “servant”, but it’s obvious that you were a great Firebender. He remembers how he’d have trouble sleeping as a kid and walk off to the courtyard where you’d be there in a small corner, practicing Fire Bending and moving so graceful, it appeared almost like you were dancing.
Even when he got banished, he’d think of you. When he’d look at the stars, he’d think of how your eyes would shine every time you made eye contact.
And now you’re in this situation? He feels sheepish for almost exposing this vulnerability to you…
Zuko jumped at the sound of a knock at his door being knocked, walking fast towards it and swinging it open rather quickly.
“Get in, get in.” He turned around all too fast, his back facing you in sheer embarrassment that he’d even have to ask this of you.
And of course you could tell; you always could. “My Lord, please don’t be embarrassed about this. It is simply educating you on your sexuality; nothing wrong with that.”
“Right…” He walked to the bed slowly and sat down, his eyes following your figure slowly approaching him.
He can’t deny it; you looked beautiful. Your nightly robes were a pretty white, its sheer fabric covering your body nicely and your nipples poking out in the fabric.
But as much as Zuko’s eyes were on your breasts, he quickly averted his eyes to you the moment you cleared your throat. You were holding a book…
“And that?” You smiled at his question.
“This is erotic literature. Clear source material in order to work as an example on what to do.”
He blinked awkwardly, whereas your smile was still glued onto your face. You opened the book to a specific page, being bookmarked by a folded piece of parchment.
Perhaps Zuko was out of his mind—or maybe he already was (because why the hell else would he even be in this situation in the first place?), but he couldn’t stop staring at you reading. God, he knew he was a prude but to get aroused by watching you lick your index finger every time you flipped a page? He felt his pants get tight and his mouth dry.
“Do I have permission to proceed?” He looked away, his face burning with embarrassment. “I guess.”
“So… first, you hold their face and look into their eyes.”
Before he knew it, you leaned closer, holding his face and looking deep into his eyes. Your eyes softened and the moonlight peeking through the curtains hit your irises—the color almost instantly becoming more vibrant.
“After that, lean closer…”
Then you just began kissing him. Zuko’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out; your lips were warm, plush and soft. You tasted sweet, like the pastries you’d make him on occasion.
Then your tongue slowly went in his mouth the sloppier the kiss went. Your hands cupping his face pulled him closer to you the more you kissed him.
But as Zuko was starting to get used to the pace of your lips, you stopped, pulling back.
He felt his heart race, blinking profusely like he was embarrassed.
The Fire Lord? Getting like this over a measly kiss? He can already imagine Aang and Sokka making fun of him should he ever accidentally tell this about this encounter.
“That was good, my Lord,” you smiled. “Maybe you don’t even need my teachings.”
“O-Oh…” He panicked, mouth going dry. “Um… I believe I still do…”
And damn, you smiled so kindly. “Okay then please position yourself and sit against the headboard, my Lo—“
“Zuko.”
He winced—God, did he really just say that? Your eyes widened a fragment and you blinked. “Sir, are you sure I can refer to you by your name?”
“We are practicing intimacy,” he looked away while saying this and was glad the moonlight wasn’t hitting him or else you’d see how absolutely flustered he was.
“Referring to each other by our given names is one of the most intimate things. I’d like to try it with you too.”
Only then he looked at you when he heard a light laugh slipping from you. “Okay, Zuko.”
Fuck, you said his name so pretty too… You said it like it was something precious; softly enunciating the consonants and not spewing it harshly like how he’s known for almost all his life.
He felt his heart race faster, observing how you slowly got on the bed and planted your knees on the sides of his thighs, straddling him. You then sat on his lap, your crotch against his, and from your small smile forming on your face, he can tell you’ve taken note of his evident hard-on.
“Now let’s try what we did again, but in this position!”
You sounded far too enthusiastic about this…
He blinked, awkwardly. He didn't know what to do. Hell, if he were to compare being in a room full of generals and his finest soldiers, he would consider that much easier than being stuck between your body and the wall.
Your eyes followed his hands, which were placed beside your thighs and you could sense how shaky they were. He let out a small gasp the moment you grabbed his forearms and led them to wrap around your waist.
“You can touch me, sir.” He nodded slowly and grabbed at your waist hesitantly.
Your lips met his again, except with more fervor. Like you were trying to get a taste of a candy you haven't tasted in years., with your head slightly rotated.
Zuko could feel his heart beat so. Damn. Fast. So much so that he felt overwhelmed and light-headed and aroused, but also nervous if he was doing this right.
Your hips began grinding against his, hands tangled in his hair while you let his hands travel across your skin. His callous fingertips lightly brushed on your warm skin under your shirt, on your hips.
But when he was kissing you, he couldn’t help but still feel so nervous—to be at such proximity to you and to be able totally touch you like this.
Then you pulled back and got off of him. As soon as he was in bliss, you quickly ended it. He couldn’t help but have a quite upset expression, noted by you.
“Don’t worry, sir. I must stop now since we are only at the beginning. According to this book, kissing intensely while grinding against one’s gene—“
“Okay… I get it. You’re dismissed.”
He laid on his bed, attempting to catch his breath before you spoke again. This time, without a blank look on your face and tone. You smiled so sweetly…
“It’s cute, but we have to work on your hesitation, sir. Please keep that in mind for our next lesson.”
He nodded, finally relaxing his body the minute you shut the door. You stole his first “make-out”. Sure, he’s kissed girls (and by girls, he means just Mai), but not like this.
Not like you wanted to practically taste them while caressing their face and pulling hair.
“Fuck…” he groaned. “What am I going to do with you..?”
And… he grimaced. He was still hard.
————
lesson two: fellatio + cunnilingus
For the next lesson, you had him sprawled out on the canopy bed of his chamber. Zuko swore he could fucking hear his heartbeat…
He glanced over at you, once again reading your "source material" pornographic novel, and felt his heart beat into his chest. Your previous lesson didn't inherently lead to any sex, rather it was foreplay that left him all hot and bothered the moment you left.
All you did was grind against him and kiss, and you had him practically burning for more. And now, here he was, at your mercy. You were kneeled on the bed beside him while you really examined what to do. He could tell how your expression shifted from one of amusement to one of slightly shock, and then you closed the book.
“Now we are trying oral sex!” Once again, he couldn’t help but be nervous at your demeanor.
“Okay…”
“Actually, oral sex is also considered foreplay for some before penetrative sex! But, I didn’t want to rush you and also considered how flustered you got after last session, I decided it was enough!”
Zuko stared at you blankly. “Right…”
You spoke so academically? Blankly? You’re kind and listen to his dilemmas, but he feels unsure. When the both of you were making out, he was the one that was all hot and bothered while you simply left. Was he that terrible at this? Granted, it was his first time making out with someone while touching their body like that, but really?
He wonders how you get during sex… if you’re just as blank or if you—
“Okay! I will strip myself, then you now.”
You then began to peel off your upper half, where Zuko made eye contact with your pretty breasts. He’s never seen a woman’s breasts before, but yours looked beautiful. Really beautiful.
His eyes widened at how quick you leaned over, sliding his pants fast and exposing his dick, all hard and resting on his abdomen.
“Now please let me show you how to indulge in fellatio.”
You took his tip in your mouth, tongue swirling on his leaking tip and pressing on his shaft.
“Hahh—fuck…” Zuko closed his eyes, almost in disbelief that you were actually doing this.
You then took him whole in your mouth while stroking him at the base of his cock. You looked so cute, just cheeked hollowed out while you sucked him off.
You stopped for a moment, still stroking his cock while looking up at him with those damn pretty eyes of yours. “Now, if you want, you can also push my head a bit in case you would like a more pleasurable experience according to the book!”
And just like that, you latched your lips on his length, bopping your head up and down while your tongue dragged on his sensitive veins. He was itching for a release, and clearly you could tell too.
“You can also ejaculate in my mouth if you so choose!”
And just at that moment, he did, with spurts of cum unloading in your mouth. Then you swallowed… Jesus…
Zuko took a moment to catch his breath, panting a bit before speaking again.
“Now let me do it to you.”
And for the first time, you looked hesitant. “Ca-Can you repeat your question again—?”
“Can’t I indulge in oral sex with you?”
Your eyes widened like they were going to pop out of your skull. “I-I mean yes…but it isn’t necessarily proper.”
Zuko pushed you on the bed by your shoulders, making you lie down, where he got off the bed and stood over you.
“If you are to educate me on my sexuality, not only would I like to learn how to receive but to give.”
He leaned towards you and grabbed the book beside you, flipping to the page you bookmarked talking about cunnilingus.
“Here we go…” He couldn’t lie that he felt nervous, but for some reason, just being in a situationship with where you were nervous as well, made him want to act more brazen. To take some type of authority.
“Do I have your permission to proceed?”
You blinked, your face feeling like it’s on fire, and nodded. “Only if you want, my Lo—Zuko.”
He kneeled on the floor, taking off your pants and underwear down and being face to face with your cunt.
Of course, Zuko’s taken anatomy during school and has gotten a diagram on how female and male anatomy look like: all technical.
But as he’s kneeled down, he can’t help but marvel at how pretty you look. Your sex was dripping with your arousal and as soon as you took note on how he was staring, you instinctively attempted to shut your thighs. His eyes traced your body, all stiff and hesitant like you were anxious.
“Please don’t do that; let me make you feel good…”
Zuko grabbed your thighs, dragging you closer to him, and slowly kissed at your inner thighs, leading to your cunt.
Your breathing was shallow, shaky—and you were so evidently shy.
He lapped at your cunt, tasting your essence and going insane off it. He took one hand and placed it above your abdomen, two fingers spreading your labia apart and went at it.
Zuko was almost technical with his movements, kneading your plush thighs like bread dough and cupping his mouth around the top of your slit. His tongue began to piston inside you, going side to side and in figure-8 motions. He attempted to heat up his tongue even, to make the experience maybe a bit more pleasurable, all the while your thighs were crushing his head and you were…crying?
“O-Ohh my God…! Zuko—!” You were whining, your voice so high pitched that he had to do a double take. Your voice usually was derived of emotion, but you were in absolutely bliss. “Hahhh… that’s so so good—!”
He began rubbing your clit with the bridge of his nose, feeling how you twitched every time he was grinding his nose against it.
And then you pulled on his hair, shoving his face in your cunt further. Your back arched from the bed, rotating your hips against his face and tangling your fingers within his hair further.
It was too much; you were practically crying out, tears streaming down your face while Zuko ate you out in such a sloppy manner, eliciting the most lascivious sounds to anyone who may walk in. He was practically making out with your pussy, savoring your taste. You were in a trance, practically almost reaching your climax.
Which is why, when the two of you were under your own euphoric state together, did you barely notice a councilman and his entourage barge in his chambers.
“My Lor—Oh my goodness!”
“Fuck!”
Zuko looked up, already seeing you covering your face with the covers while the councilmen were looking anywhere but the direction of you two.
“W-We shall leave you be…” one spoke, turning abruptly.
“Wait!”
Zuko abruptly put on his robe, following the councilman and his entourage.
“What is the meaning of this?! You dare infringe on my privacy?”
The councilman turned around, his expression going from embarrassed to slightly relieved.
The great Fire Lord was on his knees eating a woman out scandalously while he was supposed to be on the look-out for a wife.
The Fire Nation needs an heir now, and Zuko has a lover!
And the thing was, you were from a fine family. Your grandfather was an esteemed military officer to his grandfather and father; your mother taught at the military academy, your brother was a current general in the army.
This was perfect… An absolutely perfect candidate for a wife.
“That woman… That woman is to be your betrothed.”
————
final exam/the night of his wedding
Zuko sat beside you on his bed, looking away. He bit his lip all anxious and afraid to meet your gaze.
It happened too quick. It was uncharacteristic of the council, however apparently someone snitched and you soon became his betrothed, and were to get married in two weeks.
And now, you officially have gotten married, with you being the Fire Lady.
He could seriously scream (in rage because he couldn’t court you? In happiness because he actually likes you? In pure disbelief?).
His head turned to your direction, where you were blankly staring at the window. The moon was out and it was shining directly at your face, sporting a rather melancholic expression.
“I-Is everything alright?”
You were biting your lower lip and your eyes looked glossy, almost like you were stopping yourself from crying.
“Y-Ye—“ “Be honest with me.”
Your eyes met his and then, did the tears slip down your face and your lip quivering.
“I’m so—hic—so sorry… I can’t begin to express how sorry I am to you, Zuko.”
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, a pit settling in his stomach at the thought of being the reason for your tears. “What do you mean? Why are you apologizing?”
“I-I—Your wife! I s-stopped you from marrying your true love! A-And I’m so so sorry!” You were bawling at this point, lightly clutching Zuko’s robes and head crouched down in shame.
“Wait what?” He lifted your head up by your chin and saw how you were looking up at him with apologetic eyes.
Your breathing was shaky and you couldn’t look him in the eyes, making Zuko’s heart hurt.
He hesitated. He didn’t know how to make someone feel better if they were sad—let alone a woman and someone he feels strongly about. His everything hurts looking at you cry.
So he tried something he’s never done, but reminded him of his mother.
“Here,” he whispered, holding your shaky hands. His thumbs caressed small circles on your palms, and you slowly looked up at him with eyes that were still overflowing with tears.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. At all. Don’t ever think that…” He held eye contact that made you cry even more. “My wife.”
At that moment, it felt so natural. You slowly leaned in, caressing his scarred cheek and running your fingertips through his skin, and kissed him.
It felt all too natural, to be undressing you from your new formal nightly gown, and to lay you down on the bed beneath him.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… We don’t have to consummate this marriage.”
“I do. I want to.” You said it all too quickly, looking away like you were flustered and destroying whatever nonchalant neutral façade you had been building.
The truth of the matter was that you love him and have been for years. And to think that you almost stopped him from “getting his true love”, you felt terrible during the two weeks the council forbid you see your husband until your wedding ceremony.
“I want to see you, Y/N.” It was the first time he’d ever say your name so gently while being face to face with you, and he felt a pit in his stomach just looking at your soft smile.
He kept eye contact while he stroked himself, hesitant on touching you.
“Okay…” you whispered quietly.
He began rubbing your slit with his cock, spreading your arousal on his length and paying attention to your clit.
“I… I learned something from the book during these two weeks I haven’t seen you.”
You blinked and suddenly gasped.
Zuko placed a hand above your abdomen and began plunging his index and middle finger into your pussy and thrusting them in and out, eliciting a string of lewd shlick! sounds that echoed around your chambers.
Your eyes tightened, holding his muscular forearm as he continued. Your gummy walls clenched on his thick, quick fingers curling inside of you and hitting that spot.
“Hahh… keep going. So so…good.”
A sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak slipped from your lips at the sight of Zuko sticking his middle and index fingers into his mouth, sucking on them.
“My Lord—!”
He smiled, a sense of pride overtaking him at your sudden shock. “Can’t I know how my wife tastes like? You taste simply divine, my wife.”
“Oh my—!” You squeaked, using your forearm to hide your flustered expression and beginning to roll your hips against nothing. Your clit still ached in anticipation for that friction he gave.
Zuko’s nimble fingers traced your goosebump-ridden skin and he cupped your left breast while his lips went further down to your other one. “You’re so damn beautiful, my wife. All mine...”
The pit in your stomach grew and you looked away, embarrassed and aroused.
“Please…touch me further.”
It was silent between the both of you for a moment; the wing in which the both of you were at was silent, and you could hear your heavy heartbeat in your ears the longer you kept eye contact with your husband’s golden eyes, pleading with you.
“Let me pleasure you…Y/N. Please.”
You nodded your head slowly and bit your lip, your gaze trailing down onto your husband’s cock again, practically on the verge of cumming.
“Darling—please,” his golden eyes gazed at you, your flushed face and hesitant expression, and he smiled softly.
He felt nervous. What if he didn’t like sex? What if you didn’t like it? As much as he can call you darling, he was a nervous wreck internally.
“L-Let me know if it hurts. Please. I will stop.”
You nodded and dug your nails on his gentle skin, creating crimson crescents in their wake.
And just like that, your husband penetrated you while holding you so gently. Your lips pursed and your eyes followed where his were: at your cunt. The skin of the base of his cock wrinkled the moment he bottomed out in you and gleamed with your arousal when he moved his hips. Zuko hissed, his breathing becoming jagged and heavy.
“M-Move…Faster, Zuko!.” He rocked his hips into you, holding your arms down against the sand. Your supple breasts bounced with every harsh thrust.
Oh, Zuko appeared as if he was going to lose it. You were just so beautiful and you were all his now.
Your eyebrows pinched together, lower lip bitten down, and tears welling up in your eyes.
“Oh my God!” Every move of his was fast, pistoning himself into you with ferocity that you slapped your hand on your mouth to stop squeaking. You felt bad for whatever maid or guard was outside hearing you cry out your husband’s name.
Zuko leaned towards you, latching his lips onto your jawline, where he left soft kisses in their wake. His cock dragged lazily against your velvety walls, clenching against him like a damn vice.
“Ahh—nghh…Z-Zuko—!” Your legs clung onto his hips lazily, body arching onto his while your arms covered your face. He’d slowly pull his hips away and slam into you so lasciviously.
Even if he did not replicate the same growing emotions you had for him, you still found yourself wanting more. Your hips bucked against his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him again.
“You feel so good, my Lord…” you whispered, against his lips as you tasted him.
Your legs clung onto his waist, feeling his hips buck and thrusts slowly become less consistent. “Let me make you feel good forever, my love…”
Oh…
He flipped you, to be on top of him. The moment he bottomed out inside you, you let out a cry, pressing down on his lower stomach and bounced yourself on his dick.
“Fuck! Oh my—!” God you looked fucking stunning, with the moon hitting your upper torso and your breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust of his hips upwards.
“Let me make you mine, Y/N. I beg of you…” He groaned, hissing at how your cunt tightened around him oh so good.
You were crying—like actually crying—rocking your hips and fucking yourself on him back and forth. Zuko felt like he was on cloud nine; you were just too damn perfect.
“Nghh-more! Please!” A wave of euphoria washed over you; it was amazing…something you’ve never experienced before.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” He paused, noting your labored breathing and maw slack.
Your body felt damn feverish and you could feel how Zuko’s cock twitched inside you, spilling his hot, warm load inside your hole, making you full.
“F-Fuck…” Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly tugged you down on him, his head on the crook of your neck as he burried his seed inside you deeper. All warm and filling.
Your weight was on him and you could hear his heartbeat, both of you breathing heavily.
“We should… We should do that again. That was nice.” God, you really are perverted.
Or maybe he’s the perverted one for having one hell of a time right now.
“Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow.” He sighed, running his fingers through your hair and feeling your legs’ hold against him become tighter.
But one thing’s for certain: he wouldn’t give this up for the world.
.
.
.
is this rushed? maybe so, but i just had to write this lmao. i’ve been really busy with school recently and haven’t gotten proper time to really write this entire thing out!! anywayssss!! wish me luck in my future exams heheheeh
this is probably the longest fic i’ve ever written in regards to smutty content holy shit 😭
summary: you and your boyfriend decide to spice things up in bed.
tags: 18+ , MDNI , NSFW , smut , cowgirl , cuffs , yearning clark , creampie , p in v
a/n: sorry for my absence!
theme: freak
Clark was intently staring and simultaneously typing away on his laptop. The living room in his apartment was dimly lit by one warm lamp that sat next to him. Though, the bright light from his laptop screen was surely enough to illuminate everything anyways.
You peeked up from your phone screen, watching the way his brow furrowed while he worked. He was wearing something as plain as possible, sweats, a little too snug white tee, and fluffy socks, ones that matched the ones you were wearing too.
You sat just across from him on a single sofa arm chair, knees pulled close to your chest. Something about the way he was literally doing nothing stirred something deep inside you. He was adorable when he was focused.
You set your phone down and stood, padding over quietly across the hardwood. Clark's eyes flicked up the second you moved.
"Hey," he said softly, voice warm like always. "You okay? Need anything?"
You didn't answer with words. Instead you climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands automatically settled on your waist, thumbs brushing nervous little circles over your shirt.
"Hi," you murmured, inches from his lips.
"Hi there," he said back, shy as ever.
You kissed him slow and deep, tasting the faint sweetness of the coffee he'd had earlier. Clark melted instantly, a needy sound vibrating in his chest as his fingers flexed against your sides.
When you pulled back just enough to speak, your voice came out a whisper. "I've been watching you work… and all I can think about is riding you right now."
He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing, and let out a soft, shaky little laugh. "R-right now?” he stammered. "Gosh, I- I mean, yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Whatever you want, baby."
You grinned and slid off his lap, taking his hand to tug him toward the bedroom.
Once you had him in the bedroom, you pushed him gently onto the bed. Clark sat on the edge first, then scooted back when you gave him that look. He watched you with those big blue eyes, nervous and eager all at once, as you pulled the soft leather cuffs from the nightstand drawer.
His breath hitched. "Oh… those?"
"Mhm." You climbed over him, straddling his waist again. "Tonight I want you all to myself. Hands up, Kent."
Clark's cheeks turned red, but he obediently raised his arms, letting you loop the cuffs around his wrists and click them to the metal bed rails. The chain gave him just enough slack to move a little, but not much. He tested them once, lightly, then looked up at you.
"Good boy," you purred, and his stomach fluttered at your praise.
You took your time peeling his shirt off, kissing down his chest as you went. Every little touch made him shiver and whimper. When you tugged his sweats and boxers down, his cock sprang free, slapping his abs. Clark let out a soft whine, hips twitching up instinctively.
"Easy," you teased, wrapping your hand around him and giving one slow stroke. "Look at you… so worked up already."
"Y-Yeah," he gasped, head falling back against the pillow. "Feels so good when you touch me. Please don't stop…"
You stripped yourself next, slow enough to make him watch every inch. His eyes were glued to you, mouth slightly open.
When you were fully naked, you crawled back over him and positioned yourself right above his cock, letting the head brush against your soft folds.
Clark's wrists pulled lightly at the cuffs, the chain rattling. "Baby… please. I need you. I wanna feel you so bad-"
You grabbed the base from under you, lined him up perfectly, and sank down on him slowly.
The sound he made was pure heaven. A sad little whimper. You braced your hands on his chest and started rolling your hips, riding him slow and deep at first. Clark's eyes fluttered shut, then snapped open again like he couldn't bear to miss a second of you on top of him.
You started moving faster, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that had the bed creaking softly beneath you. Clark's breath hitched with every downward slide, his cock stretching you so perfectly it made your toes curl.
"Gosh… you feel incredible," he whined. "So warm and tight around me… I could stay like this forever. Please- keep going just like that."
You reached between your bodies and started circling your clit, and his blue eyes locked onto the movement like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Fuck... 'm gonna come." You moaned, head falling forwards.
Clark's breath caught in a high, whiny keen. "Yes- yes, please- come on me. I wanna feel it so bad. You’re squeezing me so good, gosh- I'm trying to hold back but you feel too amazing-"
Your thighs started to tremble as you rode him harder. Clark was practically vibrating underneath you, wrists pulling at the cuffs, metal groaning faintly under the strain he was trying so hard not to unleash.
The coil in your belly snapped. You cried out, clenching hard around him as your orgasm crashed over you, hips stuttering. Clark's mouth fell open in pure awe as he watched you come undone.
"Oh- oh gosh-" he whimpered, his own hips jerking up desperately. "I feel you- you're pulsing around me- it's so warm and tight- I can't- I can't hold it-"
Right as your climax peaked and your walls fluttered wildly around him, Clark's control finally shattered.
With a sharp metallic creak, the cuffs broke clean apart. His hands flew to your hips instantly, holding you down as he thrust up into you with deep powerful thrusts.
"Oh fuck! Clark!" You cried out, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life.
"Baby- I'm sorry, I couldn't- ahh-!" His voice was high and whiny. He was chasing his own release now, buried so deep inside you that you were seeing stars. "You feel too good- gosh, I'm coming-!"
His head tipped back against the pillow, glasses completely fogged and sliding down his nose, mouth open in a desperate groan. One last hard thrust and he spilled inside you. You cried, still trembling from your own orgasm, nails digging into his shoulders while he rode it out.
He kept moving through it, lazy little rolls of his hips as he emptied himself completely. "So warm… thank you, baby…" Until finally he stilled, chest heaving, arms wrapping around your waist.
Clark's hands stroked slow, soothing circles over your back. He let out a shaky, embarrassed little laugh. "Golly… I really tried to stay cuffed. I swear I did." He tilted his head to look at you, cheeks flushed dark pink, one hand coming up to sheepishly push his glasses back into place. "But when you came like that… I just- I lost it. Couldn't exactly hold back anymore."
You smiled up at him, brushing a damp curl off his forehead. "It was hot as hell, Kent."
He smirked. "Yeah? You’'re not mad I broke them?" He raised one hand up, the cuff link dangling from his wrist.
You laughed softly and kissed him, slow and sweet.
Satoru likes to ask everyone what they first thought of him.
Most say the same thing. Nanami says, 'An annoyance' and Shoko mutely responds with a 'pain in the ass', but Satoru knows they love him in their own way. Everyone else says 'the strongest'.
When he asks you, the strangest thing happens.
Your words die in your mouth, and you look away. You start babbling words he can't understand, and he feels his lips curl into a smile as he leans in even closer.
"I thought you were cool," you finally say.
"Uh-huh." he grins as you continue to avoid his gaze. "Liar."
"I did!" You brush him off.
"You definitely thought of something else." He taps a hand on his chin. "Was it naughty?"
You shake your head aggressively, eager to change the subject, and now he wants to know even more.
He gets his answer months later, when you're drunk and slumped across his shoulder. This time, when he asks, you're a lot less dogged.
"You can't tell him I said this, okay?" Your voice slurs as you continue to lean into him. "You can't tell Satoru. It's a secret." You clumsily push your finger to your lips, loudly shushing in his ear.
"I promise I won't," Satoru assures you as he lets you cling onto him, eager to claim his prize after waiting for so long.
"It's so mean, it's just one of those...intrusive thoughts, but I always wondered how inbred he is."
He blinks. What?
"I mean, he's gotta be right?" You continue, oblivious to the frozen man. "I bet the Gojo clan was all about 'keeping it in the family' or whatever. It's not like I'm blaming him, but you really gotta' wonder."
"You think...he looks....inbred." He repeats your words with a flat tone.
"I mean, not in a bad way." Is there a good way? "He looks like he'd fit right in with the Targeryens, and those guys are so beautiful even though they're only into their sisters and cousins. Wait, do I like inbred-looking men?" You cut yourself off with a drunken laugh.
You reach for your cup. Satoru stops you.
"I'm taking you home." He tells you flatly. You whine and complain as he drags you out of the bar.
When you're dropped off at home and asleep underneath blankets, Satoru sits right outside your apartment. His hands grip the steering wheel as he replays your words over and over again.
Well, you did say you liked men who looked inbred, he thinks as he fiddles with his fingers.
we as a society have not discussed enough about how meaty, girthy and muscly clark kent’s thighs would be. gif creds to the lovely @fuzzy
they certainly wouldn’t be a palms width. he’s a large man. you’d use it as leverage to climb onto him wherever he was lounged.
the muscle fibres there aren’t uncomfortable either. maybe it’s kryptonian biology that allows for them to stay pliable, soft and comfortable. you didn’t question it, because being able to flomp right into his lap after a long day was the merits of being with him. there was just so much room to wiggle until you’ve been perfectly cocooned into his chest.
on top of that, he was warm — with a body that’s constantly turning solar energy into super-human abilities, any one of your ailments was easily solved with having a hot-water-bottle boyfriend.
his thighs were multi-purpose, really. but your most favourite by far? to get off with them.
clark’s most favoured way of foreplay was simply having you on his lap. he didn’t have to do anything just yet, because you’d show him just how needy you were yourself.
there’d be days where you’d come home and he wouldn’t be able to immediately give you the attention you deserved. the quick solution to that was to have you snug ontop him, while he got his work done.
he wouldn’t stop you from fully relaxing into him. face all nuzzled into his pulse and breathing into the comforting scent of his body wash. you’d get yourself all worked up on the wide expanse of his thighs. rocking your hips against the muscles he tensed up all for you.
you’d feel the middle stiffen gradually, not wasting time to align your clothed pussy right atop his rigid shaft. he’d wait until you’d gotten yourself sufficiently worked up. before deciding to reward you with bounces of his thigh, each jerk sending a pang of heady arousal straight into your belly. you’d quickly be soaking his slacks, humping all pitifully against his arousal.
it’s worse with how his thighs have forced your own legs apart so wide, that you’re left to clench around nothing until he decided otherwise.
and when clark finally does get you beneath him?
filthy girl, look how much you’ve soaked me.
couldn’t wait now, could you?
gonna slide riiiight into that wet pussy, mm?
though they held no bite, it was a testament to how attracted you were to him. he’d only have his slacks halfway stuck down those thighs of his before you’re tilting your hip upward, hand snapped out blindly to align the tip of his cock at your entrance.
he’d sink right into you with ease. the sting of his stretch quickly dissipating with how your wet pussy would suction his length back into you. it wouldn’t be a conscious effort either, every damn time he’d pull out to readjust, your greedy cunt would suck him right back in. it’s an overwhelming pleasure as he manages to bottom out — coarse hairs beneath his navel circling right against your clit, making you whine out for him to just move. with his thighs naturally forcing your body apart for him, you’d feel your own being stretched to its very limit as he folds you in half, legs against your shoulders as he ruts his hips into you.
loud, obscene squelches resounding in the room, paired with his murmurs of mocking, teasing words when you struggle to take him still. you’d be quivering through the aftermath of your first orgasm that hit you out of nowhere as soon as he fucked his cock into you gummy walls. so every sensation thereafter teetered on overstimulation, and the aching need in your belly to have his thick come lubricating his every thrust.
if you thought his thighs were sturdy enough to mount, you can only piece together how they’d be leverage for him to fuck you silly into the mattress until you’re squirting around his length.
ppl who flood x reader tags with "why are people writing so much x and not enough y?!?!" are so irritating like omfg like if it bothers u that much literally just write it yourself!! like yeah it really fucking sucks not seeing the things you wanna see in fics, but recycling the same complaints does literally nothing
then they'd hit u with the "im bad at writing!!" then learn?? people don't come out the womb like shakespeare!!
majority of the writers on here were probably shit too at some point, so suck it up or be the change u wanna see dude😭
you find husband!gojo's secret sex toy. so you edge him with it until he learns his lesson! mdni ⟢
you hadn't meant to find it, truly. you were just looking for satoru's spare charger when you opened the drawer of his nightstand, expecting to find the usual clutter of blindfolds, receipts, candy wrappers, and such. instead, your fingers brushed against smooth silicone, and when you pulled it out, your eyes widened comically.
a fleshlight. clearly high-end, expensive-looking, and used based off the bottle of lube tucked beside it.
"looking for something, sweetheart?"
you turn around to find your clueless husband leaning against the doorframe, a short-lived, lazy smile plastered onto his face. though his smile is wiped off just as suddenly when he registers what you're holding in the palm of your hand.
"satoru," you enunciate slowly, holding up the toy. "what is this?"
"I-I can explain, baby..." he pushes off the doorframe, shuffling miserably toward you as if accepting his own face "it's really not a big deal..."
"not a big deal?" you tilt your head, an expression of utter betrayal painted across your features, "you have me. why would you need this?"
something flickers in his brilliant blue eyes—like a deer in headlights, "sometimes you're not available, and I—"
"I'm always available for you." you set the toy on the bed, crossing your arms. "you know that. so why, satoru? why would you use this instead of just asking me?"
he runs a shaky hand through his white hair, feeling like a scolded child "I-I bought it before I met you.. when there were no expectations, when there was no—"
"—no me," you finish for him. "I think you need to be reminded exactly what you're choosing this over."
his eyes narrow slightly, sensing danger. "what are you—"
"strip," you command, your voice leaving no room for argument. "and get on the bed."
he just stares at you for a moment, clearly debating whether to laugh it off or obey. but something in your expression must have convinced him, because he slowly begins unbuttoning his shirt, mentally succumbing himself to your whims.
"baby, are you serious..?" he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt to reveal his lean, muscular torso.
"oh, absolutely." you confirm with a sadistic smile. you pick up the toy, turning it over in your hands. "since you like this thing so much, let's see how you handle it when I'm in control."
his pants and boxers follow the growing pile of clothes discarded onto the floor, and despite his apparent nervousness, his cock was already half-hard, responding to the authority in your voice. he climbs onto the bed, and you could see the slight tremor in his hands—from anticipation or apprehension, you weren't sure.
"on your back," you instruct. "hands above your head."
satoru complies like clockwork, sprawling across the mattress with his arms stretched overhead. his cock twitches against his stomach, and you notice how his breathing has already quickened exponentially. cocky gojo satoru, already reduced to a helpless puddle at your feet.
you retrieve the lube from the nightstand, warming it between your palms as you kneel beside him. his eyes track your every movement, pupils dilated with sheer want.
noticing the confused anticipation swirling in his eyes, you clarify, "I'm going to use your little toy on you. and you're going to take it. but you don't get to come—not until I decide you've learned your lesson."
"baby, come on—" he starts, but cuts off with a sharp inhale as you wrapped your lubed hand around his now fully erect cock, stroking slowly.
"no," you whisper firmly. "you wanted to use this instead of me. so now you get to experience exactly what you chose."
you release him, and he makes a small sound of protest that dies in his throat when you bring the toy to his tip. his hips jerk involuntarily as you press it down, enveloping him in the tight, slick silicone.
"f-fuuck," gojo breathes, his hands clenching into fists above his head.
you work the toy slowly down his length, watching his face contort with pleasure. his usual composure was already cracking, lips parted and breath coming in faster. when you reach the base of his shaft, you pause, letting him feel the full sensation.
"feel good?" you ask, voice dripping with false sweetness.
"yes," he gasps. "god, yes, but—"
you begin moving the toy again, establishing a steady rhythm that has his back arching off the bed. up and down, twisting slightly on each stroke, you work him with practiced precision—except with silicon instead of the familiarity of your palm. his cock is flushed and leaking, and you can feel him throbbing inside the toy.
"but what?" you prompt, slowing your movements.
"but I ngh.. want you," he admits, his voice strained. "not.. f-fuck.. this.. I want you."
"should have thought of that before." you smile, increasing your pace, revelling in the way his whole body tenses in response. you can see it building—the way his abs clench, how his toes curl, the desperate way his hips patheticallu start to thrust up into the toy.
just as he approaches the edge, you stop completely, pulling the toy away.
"no!—" the word bursts from him desperately. "—p-please, I was so so close.."
"I know," you reply calmly, watching his cock pulse and twitch in the air, denied its release. "that's the point, 'toru."
his chest heaves as he struggles to regain control, a light sheen of sweat already forming on his skin. those blue eyes fix on you, pleading.
"please," he tries again. "I-I'm—fuck!—sorry, okay? I shouldn't have—"
"shouldn't have what?" you trail your fingers up his inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where he needed you most.
"sh-shouldn't have used it," he pants. "shouldn't have ever chosen it—hnng—over you. just please... I need you to touch me.
"but I am touching you?" you bring the toy back up, pressing it against his sensitive tip. he whimpers—actually whimpers—at the contact. "isn't this what you wanted?"
before he could answer, you plunge the toy down his length again, faster this time. satoru's head thrashes against the pillow, white hair splaying across the fabric as pleasure overwhelms him.
"oh fuck, oh fuuuck, please—" his words dissolve into incoherent moans as you work him ruthlessly toward another peak.
you watch him climb higher, his entire body drawn tight as a bowstring. his hands have moved from above his head, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white. just as his cock begins to pulse with the telltale signs of orgasm, you stopped again.
"what do you need?" you ask, setting the toy aside and running your hand up his trembling thigh.
"you," he gasps immediately. "n-need you, baby. your hand, your mouth, your pussy—anything. only you, just you, please."
"not the toy?"
"fuck the toy!" his composure has completely shattered now, your husband reduced to a begging, desperate mess. "I don't want it. I want you. only you. please, baby, pleasee—"
you let him suffer for another moment, watching precum leak steadily from his tip, his cock so hard it looks almost painful. then you wrap your hand around him, and he nearly sobs with relief.
"thank you," he breathes. "thank you, fuck, thank you—"
but you keep your strokes slow, torturous, maintaining him right on that knife's edge without letting him tip over. his hips roll, trying to fuck into your fist, but you pull back whenever he gets too eager.
"tell me again—" you command. "—why do you need me?"
"because nothing else compares," he pants, words tumbling out desperately. "because you're perfect, and I'm an idiot, and I need you more than air—please, please let me come. I'll never use it again, I'll blast it into smithereens, I swear, just please—"
you pick up the toy again with your free hand, and his eyes widen in panic.
"no, nonono wait—"
"shh." you position it at his base while your other hand works his leaky tip. "I want you to come like this. feeling both. understanding the difference."
you work him with both the toy and your hand, creating an overwhelming combination of sensations. satoru was completely gone now, reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath you, begging continuously.
"please, p-please, I need it, need you, so close, please let me—"
"come," you command. "come for me, 'toru."
permission granted, his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave. his back arches completely off the bed, every muscle in his body going rigid as he comes harder than you've ever seen. ropes of cum paints his stomach and chest as he cries out your name, the sound broken and ecstatic and utterly yours.
you work him through it, both toy and hand moving in tandem until he was gasping, oversensitive and trembling with aftershocks. only then did you release him, setting the toy aside and running your clean hand soothingly over his heaving chest.
"holy fuck," he breathes, throwing an arm over his eyes. "that was..."
"a pretty neat punishment, huh?" you finish for him, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. "did you learn your lesson?"
he lowers his arm, those blue eyes now soft and sated as they meet yours. "yeah," he says quietly and contently. "I learned that I'm a fucking idiot for ever thinking I could ever hide anything from you."
"good." you kiss him properly this time. when you pull back, you pick up the toy one last time. "so we can throw this away?"
"yes. god, yes. please." he watches as you toss it towards the trash bin. "I never want to see that thing again. you're all I need, baby. all I want."
you settle beside him, and he immediately pulls you close, still trembling slightly. "though I do have to admit," he murmurs against your hair, "that was the best punishment I've ever received."
"don't get any ideas," you warn with a smile. "this was a one-time thing."
"a one time thing, huh?" he quips devilishly, "but baby, don't you happen to own a rose toy?"
a/n: @princeable the kids miss you baby please come back home🙏🙏🙏
when you had first started dating satoru, you couldn't help but tease him in your own twisted ways.
you knew the poor man had had a thing for you for ages and now that you both were finally dating, he was walking with bated breath in fear of messing up and driving you away.
and you tried to reassure him, really!
but sometimes, it was fun to watch him writhe and tiptoe around you, treating you like a glass doll.
so when you had cooked for him for the first time, a slight tremor in your hand had you messing up the whole thing. your open salt jar had slightly tipped in, making the entire dish inconsumable and just too salty.
and before you could have any clues of how to salvage the broth, an idea popped up in your mind.
you grinned as you called up satoru.
"hi baby!" satoru's cheery voice chirped after he picked up after just one ring.
"hey, 'toru," your voice was breathy, butterflies erupting in your stomach despite having dated him for a couple months now. "what're you up to?"
"nothing at all," you heard rustling in the background, probably satoru moving around.
"oh," you bit your lip to stop your smile from spreading. "i see."
you waited a beat. and then-
"should i come over?" he asked, and you could already hear a door opening.
you smiled triumphantly, mentally pumping your fists because you didn't even have to ask him to come over. he just invited himself.
"i cooked something for you," you say instead of replying to his question, stirring the pot that was still on the stove.
"what?!" he exclaimed, "no way. be there in five, babe."
"see you," you blew a kiss into the phone and hung up.
satoru was at your door before five minutes were up. you opened the door for him and he immediately engulfed you in a massive hug that swept you off your feet.
you giggled breathily as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "hey, boyfriend."
satoru's cheeks are dusted with pink everytime he hears you call him that. you tilt your head and satoru plants his lips on yours, a sweet kiss shared at the threshold of your apartment.
how sweet, he thought, his hands gripping you tighter, pulling you closer against him.
and how he was struggling for his life.
fortunately for you, unfortunately for him, he had completely missed your evil disney villain smile as you turned your back to him and started plating the overly salty food.
"it took me two hours," you batted your lashes once, pulling your lips in a pout to appear as bashful as possible, while also trying to hold onto your laughter.
toru's whole face lit up as he dug in.
his reaction was immediate - satoru's shoulder hunched inwards as his eyes bulged out, mouth twisting in an ugly frown.
his throat rebelled against him as it tried to retch the abomination back where it came from.
and you would've missed all that if you hadn't been paying close attention, because in another second, satoru schooled his expression into a straight face and then -
he smiled.
"it's so-" he gulped, "-good! it's so good, baby."
you clapped your hand excitedly, jumping in place to really sell your act.
when satoru took longer than a minute to eat again, you leaned on the counter and towards him, pushing your lips in a pout again, "you're not eating... is it bad?"
his eyes widen slightly, panicking at the thought of upsetting you. "no! no, of course i will eat."
he gathered courage to scoop it up, hands trembling slightly as he brought the extremely salty concoction towards his mouth.
your lips twitched as he finally swallowed, a vein popping in his forehead as he fought the urge to projectile vomit on the floor.
but he didn't have it in himself to potentially ruin your mood by telling him this...food was genuinely dehydrating him. his cells were plasmolysing to death.
so he smiled, pain visible in his eyes.
"w-" he croaked, "water, please."
"why, baby?" you cooed, turning around to fill up a glass. "sorry, is it too spicy?"
"just a little salty," he replied, his voice shaky as he accepted the glass and hurriedly gulped down the water.
seeing how hard he was trying to make sure your feelings weren't hurt, even if it meant shrivelling up and becoming a dry fruitoru, you were overcome by a massive surge of cuteness aggression.
satoru was alarmed when he saw the massive pout on your face. he got up from the barstool, striding towards you, "what's wrong?"
instead of answering, you threw yourself onto your boyfriend, who immediately caught you, hoisting you properly onto him. you started showering his side of the face with wet kisses as he smiled even though he was confused.
"why would you eat that?" you cradled his face, pulling at him so he was looking you in the eye. your legs were wrapped around his waist.
"why wouldn't i?" his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he nuzzled his face into your hand, "you made it for me."
"now i feel awful," you jutted out your bottom lip.
he nipped at it, making you squeal and jerk back, "did you know it was abysmally salty?"
you nodded, "had a mishap. i promise i can actually cook edible food."
"i believe you," he laughed.
"your bearth smells like a lot of sodium," you tease, pulling his face closer to you.
"and you," he tilted his head, watching you close your eyes, "are so-dium fine."
"you have got to stop cracking corny jokes."
he smirked before finally capturing your lips with his.
---
my satoru drabble creative writing process is -> think of a bad joke -> make it something satoru would say -> ensure he says it in the unfunniest way possible.
