#rynwritesstuff

Crickets chirp and twitter outside the window of Clark’s bedroom. The bright yellow moon is high in the sky on this cool Kansas night in mid-June. What a beautiful handful of days it has been.

Between cold glasses of sweet lemonade and bowls of buttery popcorn, you and Clark, Ma, and Pa have spent the days on the farm outside on the back porch or down at the nearby lake. Things are peaceful here in Kansas — right and good and calm — and days like that are few and far between. 

Especially when you’re married to Superman himself. 

But, Clark promised you four days; four quiet, dreamy, uninterrupted days in which he’d tune out any and all commotion happening around the world and focus on the people most important to him: his family. 

It’s the third night now. You’re leaving the Kent farm tomorrow bright and early, giving you and Clark plenty of time to drive all the way back to Metropolis where you’ll settle back into regular living and the stop and go of it all. Part of you is looking forward to being home, but the other part of you is happy to be lost in the slow rhythm of summer and lemonade and the lake. 

Clark is beneath you, his breathing slow and steady. You’ve got your ear pressed against his broad chest, and you listen to his heartbeat as you open your eyes. He isn’t asleep. His eyes are closed and his breaths are soft, and if someone didn’t know him as well as you do, they’d think he was out cold. But you can just tell that this isn’t him sleeping; it’s him trying to pretend that he can rest without doing what both of you have been craving first.

You touch his cheek.

“Baby.”

Clark hums. You knew it. He’s a total faker. You smile, feeling reaffirmed in your belief that he wasn’t asleep at all. You run your fingers through his hair, then touch his bottom lip. He opens his eyes at that, and you smile down at him.

“Hi.” 

Clark chuckles.

“Hey there,” he says as he lifts his head and tucks his right hand behind it. “It’s late, Mrs. Kent.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“No?”

You shake your head.

“Mm mm. I’m too hungry.”

Clark’s brows raise, and he reaches over to wipe the sleepy dust from your eyes. 

“There are leftovers in the fridge,” Clark tells you. “Just don’t eat the last of the mashed potatoes. Those’re Pa’s favorite.”

“I don’t want mashed potatoes,” you tell him. The corner of Clark’s mouth turns up in a knowing smile. He’s got you all figured out, but he’s going to pretend that he doesn’t. You know how this goes. You know him.

“What do you want?” Clark asks softly. Your smile widens.

“I’m so glad you asked,” you say. Carefully, you scoot down his body and Clark’s breath catches as you do. The bed creaks with the movement. You rest your chin on his abdomen when you get down far enough, and Clark touches the side of your face. Wordlessly, you tilt your head down to nose at his half-hard clothed cock. Clark inhales sharply. 

“That’s what you want, hm?” He asks as he stares at you. You nod, eyes meeting his. 

“Mhm. Are you gonna be quiet?” You ask him as you tug at the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Clark is still smiling when he nods and spreads his legs slightly to give you more room. You squeeze his thighs, then let his erection spring free from its confines. Clark hums as you collect some of his leaking arousal on your fingertip and stick it in your mouth. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes as you lick his cock from base to tip. You meet his eyes again, then smile while sucking at his tip. You hum around him purposely, and Clark grips the sheets as his heart begins to beat faster. 

“Atta girl,” he sighs, pushing hair out of your face. “Good…S-So good…”

You push yourself down on him as far as you can go without gagging, and Clark bites his lip as his head falls back against the pillows. 

“Oh my gosh,” he moans softly. “Yes, yes…H-Honey–”

You pull off of him then, and dot a few kisses along the underside of his cock. He’s really leaking now, pre-cum beading at the tip of his member, and you stroke him suddenly, making him gasp. You hold back a laugh. 

“Be quiet or I’ll have to stop,” you warn playfully. Clark gives you a look. 

“You’re being m-mean…” he manages as you stroke him. A soft schlick schlick schlick sound is audible as you pump him, and Clark’s hips buck at the feeling of your hand on him. Your movements slow suddenly, and Clark whines. 

“Mr. Kent,” you say, “I didn’t take you for the whiny type…”

Clark grunts, then covers his mouth with his hand. Jumbled words that sound a lot like good gosh come from him. You suck just his tip into your mouth, then hold it there for just a moment before pulling away altogether. You move back onto your knees, and Clark sits up to touch you as you tug your pajama shirt up over your head. The bed creaks. 

“I feel like we have this problem everytime we stay here,” you whisper, referring to the old, loud bed. Clark takes your breasts into his large hands the moment they’re revealed. He gives them a gentle squeeze. 

“I know.” “Why don’t we just buy a new bedframe?” you suggest while pushing down your shorts and underwear. “One that doesn’t creak every time one of us breathes?”

Clark chuckles, then pulls you on top of him. More creaking. You lean down over him with your hands on the headboard and your breasts in his face. 

“An entire bedframe for a bed that we only sleep in a few times a year?” 

“Mhm. We could even upgrade it to a double…Two people in a twin bed like this is impossible…”

“Mmm,” Clark hums as he licks at your breasts and sucks your right nipple into his mouth. His eyes flutter and you run your fingers through his hair. “I’ll think about it…”

“I’ve known you long enough to know what that means,” you breathe. “I’ll – mm – I’ll let Ma and Pa know to expect a delivery…”

“You want a double and not a queen, huh?”

“A queen wouldn’t fit in here, baby,” you say, rocking your bare core down against Clark’s erection. He flicks his tongue over your hardened nipple, and you hum, holding the back of his head and pulling your chest back. 

“I’m gonna ride you,” you tell him. His hands find your hips. 

“If the bed starts screaming, you have to stop, though,” Clark says. “I think I’d die if Ma and Pa heard us–”

“It’s not like they don’t already know,” you say, lining his tip up with your entrance. “You were totally staring at me in my bathing suit earlier. And also, we’ve been married for how many years?” 

“Still. They don’t need to know,” he says, pushing his hips up as he holds onto you. You gasp at the feeling of him slipping in, and you sink down on him. 

Creeeaaak!

You pause. 

“For fucksake,” you mutter.

“I don’t know about this–”

“Oh my god, Clark.” You pull off of him, and he jolts at the sudden loss of contact. You get off the bed, then lie down on the small rug at the side of the bed. Clark stares at you, then sighs. 

“I hate doing that to you,” he says as he gets up, too. You hum, spreading your legs as he kneels down between them. “This is so not romantic.”

“Not every fuck is gonna be romantic,” you say, touching his shoulders. Your hands wander up to cup his cheeks, and you pull him down for a kiss. “Plus, you look really fucking good on top of me.”

Clark hums, the corner of his mouth tugging up.  “I think you’re just sweet talkin' me now,” he says. He lowers himself down to kiss you again, then pushes himself back up. You bite your lip, running your hands over his biceps. 

“Mm. You’re so strong and sexy, Clark…”

“Okay, yeah, you’re definitely sweet talkin' me.”

Clark guides his tip to your entrance anyway, still smiling as he does, and you hum when he presses in. 

“S’that okay?” he asks. You nod. 

“It always is,” you breathe. 

“You know I like to check,” Clark says as he presses the rest of the way in. You hum, your grip on his biceps tightening. 

“Fuck, baby,” you breathe. “You can move.”

Clark nods, then begins to rock his hips. You gasp at the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your g-spot over and over, and your lips part in pleasure. Clark grunts softly as he fucks you faster and faster. Your breasts bounce and soft, barely-there moans leave you. 

“Oh, god, yes,” you sigh. Clark runs his hand along your thigh, then bends your left leg up so it can hook over his side. He moves your other leg too, then, and you groan and cover your mouth. 

“Shh,” he shushes as he plows into you. “S’that good, honey?”

You nod. 

“Oh my god, yes, Clark, mmm…Right there! Right there, yes!”

Your sounds bring Clark hurdling towards his climax, and you gasp when you reach down to rub your clit in tight, quick circles. Clark holds onto your thighs as he pounds into you. The wooden floor of his bedroom is hard and uncomfortable beneath you, but you pay it no mind. How could you when your husband is moving like this above you?

“I’m close,” Clark sighs. You nod, tugging on his curls and bringing his head down so that you can kiss him firmly. 

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper against his lips. “Mmm, b-baby…Yes…Y-Yes, oh my god…”

Clark lets out a shaky chuckle. 

“W-Why are you laughing at me, Kent?” you breathe. He shakes his head. 

“I’m just…S-So – mm – so in-love with you…” Clark tells you. You give his hair another tug, and he grunts. 

“I love you too,” you breathe. “A-And I love your f-fucking cock, oh my god…”

Clark kisses you, his orgasm rising, rising, rising…

You gasp. The two of you reach your climaxes at almost the exact same time, and you rub your clit and take yourself through it as Clark spills his massive load deep inside of you. He’s sighing and breathing heavily, and his thrusts get sloppy until they slow to a stop. 

The sound of you two catching your breath fills the room, and Clark presses his forehead against yours. You smile and wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

“I meant it,” you breathe. “About the bedframe.”

Clark laughs, then kisses you before pulling out and lifting you up to set you back on the bed. You relax against the comforter as he grabs a few tissues to clean you both up. 

“I know you did,” Clark says. “I’ll look into it. I promise.”

“I can’t just not have sex with you every time we’re in Kansas,” you tell him as he hands you some tissue. You reach down to clean yourself up. 

“I know.”

“And you hate fucking me on the floor, so you ought to do something about it.”

“I will.”

“And hey,” you say, catching his wrist and yanking him towards you. You sit up and cup the back of his head. “I love you so, so much, Mr. Kent.”

Clark grins, then kisses you softly with a hand on your cheek. 

“I love you too, Mrs. Kent.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

rynwritesstuff, 2026

The bar is loud, bustling with folks holding half-empty beers or glasses of whiskey. Music plays softly overhead, and a few small groups sway to the rhythm. Glasses clink against the bar, pool balls crack together, and the wind blows softly against all of it from outside. 

Scott Miller is watching you. You’ve only had half of a beer, meaning you’re still fairly sober, but he’s almost positive he knows what you’re doing as you talk to Javi. You’re just a little too close, your StormPar shirt having been discarded somewhere, leaving you in just your tank top and jeans. 

Scott is trying to ignore it, he really is. Who gives a shit if you and Javi are…Whatever you are? God, not him. Sure as hell not him. It’s not like he spends an extra ten minutes in the shower jerking his cock to the thought of you on your knees, pressing your tits together while you open your mouth to take his load. Nope. No fuckin’ way.

Besides, you and him aren’t a thing. Never have been, never will be. It doesn’t matter that he drives you around from time to time, or that he feels your eyes lingering on him while he’s pushing his hair out of his face, or that at least two days out of the week you end up in his motel room. Fuck no, that doesn’t matter, because you’ve clearly got eyes for Javi. 

Why shouldn’t you? Scott knows Javi’s a nice guy. A gentleman. Opens doors, uses his manners, chooses his words carefully. You deserve a guy like Javi, he guesses. Not that he cares whose bed you’re in, anyway. 

But he can’t ignore the way his stomach is twisting at the sight before him. Seeing you belly-laugh at Javi’s jokes has him feeling more ill than driving full-speed in tornado weather ever has. You never laugh like that with him. Scott supposes that he isn’t a terribly funny guy, though. That’s it, that’s what it is. And that's just fine. It’s not like he wants you to be in love with him. That’s fucking ridiculous.

Scott takes a final swig of his beer – it’s room temperature, now, anyway – and then pays the bartender before approaching you and Javi and the others. You glance over, and when he catches your eye, you look him up and down. He’s pulling his pack of gum out of his pocket and popping a stick into his mouth. 

“I’m out,” Scott says. “You comin’?”

You glance at Javi, then at your watch. 

“It’s only nine. Are you sure you don’t wanna–”

“I’m pretty sure,” Scott says. He glances at Javi, then looks at you again. “I’m going. Take it or leave it.”

You sigh. Knowing Javi, he’ll be out until past midnight, and Scott was your ride here, afterall. You nod, then take a final sip of your beer before handing it to Javi. 

“Behave,” you warn him playfully before crossing the bar to grab your StormPar shirt off one of the stools. Scott’s jaw is clenched as he watches you closely. You know what you’re doing to him, he’s positive of it, now. Behave? Behave? Jesus, what is this? What was that?

Scott’s jaw works as he chews his gum, arms crossed while he follows you with his eyes. You approach him, nodding as you do. 

“Let’s go,” you say. He says nothing, instead turning and walking ahead of you as he pulls the truck keys out of his pocket. You smirk to yourself as you look him up and down while you follow him. With a surge of confidence, you rush forward and give his ass a playful squeeze. Scott glances at you, chewing his gum aggressively as his brows furrow. 

“What was that for?” he asks snippily. You shrug. 

“These pants look nice on you,” you say simply. Scott shakes his head. 

“You’re drunk,” he huffs as he unlocks the truck and opens the driver side door. You walk around the side with an eyeroll. 

“I am not. I can just appreciate when your ass looks good.” Scott says nothing as the two of you buckle in, and you glance at him. Something’s off. It isn’t hard to tell. He’s chewing the hell outta his gum, his brows are set, and his eyes are dark. “Scott.”

“What?” 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he says shortly as he sticks the key into the ignition and backs out of his parking space.

“You’re lying.”

“Since when did you care?” he asks. What a silly thing to say. You figured after working together for nearly a year, he’d know that you care. Sure, you pick on each other, but that doesn’t mean you don’t care about him. 

“What–”

“You’re asking so you can make sure you haven’t done anything wrong? Is that what this is?” Scott asks coolly. You’re still looking at him. 

“No, I just wanna make sure you’re okay. That’s it.”

He hesitates. Scott, who always has a witty comeback or a calculated answer, hesitates.

“Why are you being so nice?” he asks as he drives along. 

“I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not. You’re nice when you’re stuffed full of cock, but otherwise–”

“Uncalled for.”

“-- You’re a total bitch. And you just want me to reassure you that I think of you as Little Miss Perfect.”

“Why are you being like this?” you ask sharply. 

“Why don’t you spend the night with Javi instead if you don’t like the way this is going?”

You pause. Oh. That’s what this is. You sigh, eyes closing briefly. You shake your head. 

“Javi and I have known each other for years. I tell you this every single time. He’s my friend, we joke with each other–”

“Didn’t look like a joke when he touched your lower back.”

“He’s a touchy guy! That’s all!” 

Scott shakes his head and pops his gum as he stops at a red light. 

“You’re sleeping around, aren’t you?” Scott asks as if he already knows the answer.

“Fuck you.”

“No, tell me. If I’m wrong, just deny it.”

“You’re calling me a slut,” you say angrily. You’re almost to the motel, the bar having been just around the corner, just a few roads over. “Let me out, I’d rather walk than be in here with you.”

Scott locks the doors. 

“Answer my question,” he insists as he pulls onto the road the motel is on. 

“I’m not sleeping around!” you practically yell. “And if I was, that would be my fucking choice. Since when do you care whose bed I end up in, anyway? I’m not your girlfriend. I’m barely your friend. You hate me.”

“I do not hate you–”

“You act like you do. Let me out right here.”

“No.”

“You’re an asshole. Let me out.” 

Scott pulls into the lot, and you shake your head. 

“Javi wants you. It’s not hard to tell.”

“And who says I want him back?” you snap, glaring at him as he parks. “Why were you telling him to behave?”

“It was a joke, Scott! For fucksake, unlock the car or I’m–”

Scott unlocks his own door and gets out. He’s walking around to your side, you realize, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. He opens the door, and you shove at his chest to get past him. He catches your wrist, and you tug away. 

“Let go of me.”

“Listen–”

“No, you listen. I can sleep with whoever the fuck I want. I’m not sleeping with Javi, but if I were, I bet he’d be a lot fucking nicer than you are. Maybe I should sleep with him. I bet it’d be an upgrade.”

It’s Scott’s turn to glare at you, now. 

“That was shitty,” he says. 

“You’re shitty.” You bump against him when he moves forward, and you feel his half-hard cock through his pants. “Oh my god. You’re a freak.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Scott says, still holding your wrist. Gently, he presses you against the side of the truck. Your breath catches, and your core gets hot. “So. You don’t like Javi.”

“Ah, he finally grasps what I’ve been saying for months,” you say condescendingly. Scott fits his knee between your thighs, and you weakly shove at his chest as he leans down to kiss your throat. 

“Be nice,” he warns. 

“Or what?”

He draws back to look at you, then glances at your cleavage and gives your breasts a squeeze, pushing them together in your top. You roll your eyes. 

“One track mind. Jesus Christ. Get off me, someone will see.”

“Go on, lead the way,” Scott says, squeezing your ass as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his room key. 

You should leave. You should go to your own room and not speak to him for the rest of the night. It would be so easy to leave Scott high and dry, to tell him to fuck off and use his hand for once.

But you want him. 

You’ve wanted him all fucking night. 

All that dancing, all those fake laughs, all the seductive looks you threw his way…God, he didn’t catch any of it. He’s such an idiot. 

So, when he lets go of you, you don’t head straight to your room at the other end of the motel. You hold his wrist and lead him towards his room. You even grab the key from him to unlock the door. He’s on you as you do, kissing and nipping at your throat with those skilled, plump lips of his. Fuck him. Genuinely fuck him.

You get the door open, and Scott’s large hands smooth over your waist. You let him press you against the door once it’s kicked shut and re-locked. When he rocks his hips against you and you feel his erection, you don’t pull away. Your skin is on fire, burning with want and arousal. You hate him. You hate that he does this to you. You hate that you want him to. 

You throw his cap to the side, then run your fingers through his hair and give it a harsh tug down so you can kiss him. He hums against your mouth, fitting his knee between your thighs again. You grind down against it, desperate for friction. He chuckles, and you tug his hair again. 

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You laughed.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.”

He presses his hands against your breasts again, this time using the force of his touch to pin you against the wall. He pinches your nipples through the tank top, through your bra, and you gasp into his open mouth. 

“I ever tell you how much I love these fuckin’ things?” he asks. You bite his bottom lip. He tastes like mint and beer and something that is so painfully, familiarly him. 

“Maybe once or twice,” you say. He pinches your nipples again. You flick him with your index finger. “That fucking hurts–”

“Don’t whine at me,” he says, tugging you forward and off the door. Scott pulls off your tank top, throws it aside, and reaches around to unclip your bra. He throws that away too, then cups your breasts in his big hands. Your nipples are hard from being played with, and he hums at the sight. “Oh, yeah…These’re nice…”

“You’re so weird,” you say as you unbutton his StormPar shirt. You get rid of it, then push your hands beneath his undershirt to feel his firm, warm stomach. 

“You’re into it,” Scott says, nosing at your neck. “Don’t even try to pretend you aren’t.”

He pushes you down onto the bed, and your body bounces. He grabs your ankle and begins to untie your boot. You watch him with a small smirk. 

“You could give me a show while I do this, y’know. I’m being really nice.”

“A show, huh?”

“Play with your tits,” Scott says. You roll your eyes, but bring your hands to your breasts anyway. You massage them, pressing them together over and over, and Scott hums as he throws your boot and sock to the floor before grabbing your other ankle and untying that one, too.

“Pinch ‘em.”

“Fucking perv,” you say quietly, biting your lip as you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. Scott gets rid of your other boot and sock, then grabs both ankles and yanks you to the edge of the mattress so he can get to the buttons on your jeans. You run your hands along his biceps as he unbuttons and unzips them and tugs them down. He throws those aside, too. 

“How would you feel if I just fucked your thighs?” Scott asks, taking a moment to pull off his undershirt, leaving his chest, arms, back, and stomach on display for you. You gawk at him, barely registering his question. “Or your tits? Huh? Leave you hangin’? Make you take care of yourself on your own?”

“...What?” Scott rolls his eyes, then pushes at your hip. 

“You’re obnoxious. Roll over,” he tells you. You do, and he pulls your hips back so that you’re on all fours. You bite your lip, letting out a soft moan as he spreads the lips of your pussy and leans in to tongue at your entrance teasingly. 

“Fuck, Scott…” you breathe, looking back at him. He’s gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place as he tastes you. You’re so wet already, and feeling his tongue, hot and wet and muscle-y, makes you squirm in place. 

“Enough teasing,” you tell him.

“So impatient,” Scott breathes, suddenly plunging two fingers into your pussy. “I’m making sure you’re wet enough to take my cock.”

You roll your eyes and moan at the same time. He moves his fingers quickly, his fingertips massaging your spongy g-spot, and you feel a sort of building sensation in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Scott, o-oh my god—“

You squirt on his fingers suddenly and without warning, gasping as you do so. Scott hums. You’re positive that he’s smirking. You look back at him.

“I-I told you to stop fuckin’ teasing me,” you breathe. He hums, then sticks his arousal-soaked fingers into your mouth. You suck on them eagerly, and he gives your head a gentle shake.

“You’re so pretty when your mouth is full,” he says. You hum, sucking on his fingers before he pulls them away.

Scott gives your ass a smack, and then you hear the sound of him undoing his pants. Your back arches in anticipation, and Scott gives your ass another harsh smack. 

“Already know what to do, hm?” he hums. You hear him pumping his cock a few times, presumably smearing his pre-cum over his member, and your core clenches around nothing. You give your ass a playful shake. 

“Hurry up,” you breathe. He grips your hip with one hand and guides his leaky tip to your pussy with the other. You bite your lip, head falling forward as he presses in. “F-Fuck…”

“Shut you right up, huh?” Scott comments. You clench around his tip. 

“Fuck off,” you whimper, gripping the comforter tightly. “Oh, god, c’mon, put it in already–”

Scott thrusts all the way in suddenly and without warning, making you gasp. It stings – it always does, no matter how wet you are – but it quickly fizzles out into pleasure as he moves in and out, in and out, in and out. You gasp, jaw slacking and eyes fluttering. You feel a hand on the back of your head, and it pushes your face down into the mattress as you’re fucked faster and faster. 

“There we go,” Scott grunts. “Mmm…So much prettier when you’re quiet…”

“S-Shut the fuck up,” you breathe. “O-Oh, shit…”

Scott chuckles, then gives your ass a smack. 

“Gonna fill this p-pussy up…” he babbles. You’ll never admit it, but you love it when he talks like this. “Get you all full of me…”

“I’ll keep it all,” you breathe. “K-Keep it all inside…”

A condescending chuckle. 

“I know you will,” Scott says, plowing into you. The bed rocks and creaks with the force of his thrusts. “Such a good little cum dump.”

“R-Romantic,” you breathe, hardly registering his words. You’re so blissed out, so hot on his cock. You’re an exposed nerve – hot and quivering and accepting of all sensations. Scott grunts. 

“You like it,” he says. “I know you do. Y-You love it when I use you.”

He reaches around and rubs your clit in tight, firm circles. You whine loudly, eyes squeezing shut as he pleasures you. Your walls flutter, heat flooding your core, and Scott hums at the feeling. “Gonna cum?” he asks. “Hm?”

“S-Soon,” you moan. “Oh, god, yeah…”

“Me too,” he grunts, hips rutting faster and faster as he rubs your clit. “Hurry up…Cum for me…”

You feel your orgasm rising, rising, rising, and then–

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, walls spasming around Scott’s cock as you fall over the edge. Your thighs shake and warmth washes over you. “Fuck!”

Feeling you orgasm forces Scott over the edge, and he grunts lowly as he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing clit and grips your hips with both hands. He cums deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his hot, sticky seed. You moan at the feeling, face still pressed against the mattress, and when you feel his thrusts begin to slow, you hum softly. 

“Took me so well,” Scott babbles breathily. “Jesus fucking christ. Always taking me so well. Your pussy’s so pretty when it’s full of me…” 

You squeeze his cock with your walls, and he hisses as he begins to pull out. 

“Don’t do that shit,” he says. You hum, smirking to yourself as his softened cock slips out of you. 

“Why not? S’fun to tease you,” you say. He smacks your ass and you roll over onto your back to look up at him. Scott leans over you to nip at your throat. 

“Javi could never make you feel that good,” he whispers against your skin. You sigh, running your hands through his hair. 

“Scott…”

“Say it.”

“Are you serious?”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. For a moment, you swear there’s something unfamiliar shining in them. 

“Say it,” he tells you again. You touch his cheek. 

“Javi could never make me feel that good.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

rynwritesstuff, 2025

There are very few things that Clark Kent wouldn’t do for you. He’s a giver at heart – kind and compassionate and ready to follow any command you may direct at him, even if you don’t mean to boss him around at all. He’s nothing if not complaint, nothing if not willing to please. 

But this? This is not his scene, he’s decided.

And that’s fine! he tries to convince himself. Not everything is for him, and that’s okay. That’s part of life, part of growing and becoming and discovering. You look beautiful, though, in your little dress and heels, hair done and makeup on. You’re dancing to the music that is rumbling in Clark’s chest. He feels warm as he watches you. You’ve had a drink or two – nothing crazy, just enough to loosen you up – and Clark smiles softly as you run your hands over his chest. 

“Please dance with me!?” you say over the music. Clark chuckles. 

“I’m not much of a dancer!” he says. You scoff. 

“C’mon! I know you’ve got it in you, Clark! Just for a bit?”

Clark sighs. You’re looking at him with those pretty eyes of yours, and you look so happy and excited by the idea of dancing with him, and how on earth could he say no to that? Clark rises from his seat and towers over you. He offers you his hand, and you clap excitedly before taking hold of it. You pull him towards the dance floor just as the song changes to something low and sexy. 

You turn around so that your backside is pressed against Clark’s front, and you push your hips back against him. You hear his breath catch, and you look back at him with a smirk. His lips are parted, his curls are falling into his face. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then offers you a smile. You hum, taking hold of his hands and guiding them to your hips. 

“You can touch me,” you say, swaying to the beat of the song. Clark nods, smoothing his large hands over your hips. He leans down to kiss your shoulder, and you sigh. This is what you wanted – for him to let loose and enjoy himself. You feel Clark’s hips moving against yours, and you press your ass against his crotch. His breath catches again. You almost laugh. He’s easy sometimes – easy to tease, easy to fluster. 

“You’re beautiful,” Clark says in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your arms, and you reach around to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp. He leans into your touch with a quiet sigh. 

“So are you,” you tell him. This makes him grin, and you marvel at the sight. You grind against him once more, and Clark’s cock twitches in his pants. You smirk softly to yourself as a wave of heat engulfs you. Arousal blooms between your thighs. God, you want him. You want him now.

Clark rocks his hips against you subtly, and you hum and rest your head back against his chest. 

“Babe,” you breathe. 

“Hm?”

“I need some help in the bathroom,” you tell him. Clark’s brows raise ever so slightly. The music thumps and people dance all around you. The world seems to fall away from you as you turn around to look up at your man. Clark touches your hips again, rubbing them with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Help with what?” he asks gently. You unbutton the top button of his shirt. 

“...You know.”

He does know. Deep down, he wants it too, though he’s too bashful to say it out loud surrounded by all of these strangers. Clark kisses you then, his plush lips working against yours. You kiss him back eagerly, touching his cheeks and shoulders as you do. You hum, feeling hot like an exposed nerve. He’s all over you before you know it, his hands roaming your body. His cheeks burn – maybe he’s embarrassed that all these people can see the two of you – and you chuckle at the feeling of them. 

Clark pulls away, then grabs your head. 

“Lead the way,” he whispers. You nod, then tug him through the groups of people to get to the restrooms. There isn’t a line, thankfully, and you push open the door of the family bathroom. You shove Clark inside and lock the door behind the two of you. You practically throw yourself at him the moment you’re alone. You can hear the loud, bass-driven music through the walls, but you pay it no mind. You moan into Clark’s mouth as you kiss him ravenously. 

“Fuck me,” you breathe. “Need it so bad.”

Before Clark can respond, you’re pulling up your dress and bending over the counter in front of the mirror. You look at his reflection, taking in the way he exhales softly, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, the way his lips are pink and swollen from kissing. You spread your legs for him, and you watch him look you over. He’s hungry, starving for it.  How long has it been since he’s had you? A week? A day? An hour? Gosh, it doesn’t matter – never has. You’re here now, and you’re looking at him like he’s some kind of god, and how can he resist you when you give him those eyes? Who is he to turn you down when you’re asking so nicely? When your legs are spread and your panties are pulled to the side?

Clark steps forward and begins to undo his belt with trembling hands. You watch him intently, a smirk on your face as he moves up behind you. Your eyes meet his in the mirror as he pulls his cock free, and you bite your lip. 

“Ruin me,” you tell him. Clark leans forward and kisses your shoulder, then guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. Your breath catches when his swollen tip presses in. You’re wet, yes, but the stretch of it still makes you squirm in the best way. You grip the counter and let your head fall forward. Clark reaches around and holds your head up with a hand under your chin. 

“Want you to watch, honey,” he tells you. A fresh wave of arousal crashes down over you, and you moan softly as he presses in the rest of the way. Your core flutters and clenches around him and Clark lets out a soft moan at the feeling. 

“You’re so big,” you breathe. “Feels so good.”

Clark hums as he begins to rock his hips. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering as he holds your head up with one hand and grips your hip with the other. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, but he can’t be bothered. He’s too focused on making you feel good.

“I love you,” Clark breathes, rocking his hips faster. “O-Oh, gosh…Honey…”

You gasp as your body bounces with the force of his thrusts. Your eyes flutter and your jaw drops as he pounds into you with forceful thrust after forceful thrust. You gasp and moan and sigh, the sounds filling the bathroom and echoing around you. 

“I love you,” you babble. “Love you s-so much. Fuck.”

Clark’s hand moves from your hip to your throbbing clit, and you gasp when he touches it. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he breathes. A grunt in your ear. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, because you know he does. Clark Kent always takes the best care of you, always makes you feel good. Your thighs tremble as he pounds into you and rubs your clit in tight, firm circles. You let out a gasp as everything borders on too-much. It toes the line deliciously, and you let out a desperate moan as Clark grunts and sighs behind you. 

“Fuck, Clark,” you moan, leaning your head back against his chest. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close, please…”

“I know,” Clark breathes. “Me, too. I-It’s alright…Let go…”

You grip the counter, everything beginning to swell as you rock your hips back against Clark. His cock is huge and hard and hot, his fingers and skilled and precise. His breath in your ear sends chills down your back, and his grunts make your core even wetter.

Suddenly, everything crashes down around you. You reach your orgasm without warning, and you gasp as your eyebrows furrow. You grip Clark’s wrist where he holds your head up, and you stare at him in the mirror as he reaches his own climax. His face contorts into an expression of pleasure and relief as he spills his massive load deep inside of you. You moan at the sight of him. 

“There we go,” you breathe, nodding as you reach around to touch his hair. “So good, Clark.”

Clark’s hips rock forward and back a few more times as he fills you with his seed. You clench around him, and he moans softly. You smirk at the sound. He pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his pants as you adjust your panties and push your dress down. Your cheeks are hot with arousal. 

“You’re so handsome,” you breathe as you watch him. Clark smiles, then kisses your cheek.

“And you’re so beautiful.”

You turn around and lean up to kiss him firmly. He kisses you back with fervor and touches your cheek gently. You lean into his touch.

“I want another drink,” you tell him. He smiles. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You step towards the bathroom door and unlock it, only to find that a line has formed. You try to hide your smile as you and Clark step out with your heads down and your faces hot.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

rynwritesstuff - 2026. Do not copy, steal, or repost my work.

The rain is pitter-pattering against the car in strong, steady droplets. They dot the windshield and collect in the car’s nooks and crannies as you drive along the road. The wind is strong, and you hold the steering wheel steady against it as it whips against the side of the truck. Your brows are furrowed in concentration. You’re focused, locked the hell in, and ready for anything.

“Hit the gas. We’re falling behind,” comes a familiar voice from your right. Your grip on the wheel tightens.

“I’m right behind Javi–” 

“You’re about to go uphill, hit the gas,” Scott says again. You glare at him, then press on the pedal and peel ahead down the muddy road. 

“Sorry, did you wanna drive instead?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he says. 

“We both know you’re too anxious for that.”

“I absolutely am not–”

“Shut up, you’re distracting me,” you huff, turning up the windshield wipers and adjusting yourself in the seat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Scott shake his head and clench his jaw. “So fucking bossy,” you mutter.

“At least one of us knows what they’re doing,” Scott says casually. You smack his arm. 

“Stop talking,” you tell him again. “Can’t fucking see in this rain, I don’t need you in my ear at the same time.”

He says nothing else, instead leaning forward in his seat. Suddenly, the storm up ahead seems to change course. You squint, then blink, then reach for your earpiece. 

“Javi,” you say into the mic, “go left.”

“What?” Scott says. “Why would we–?”

“Go left, go left!” you say. Javi’s truck veers to the left, and your heart races in your chest. “It’s moving around. You see it, right?”

“I see it,” Javi says back. 

“That’s not enough of a change to make a difference,” Scott says sharply. “You’re gonna make us lose it.”

“I’m not gonna make us do anything,” you say firmly. “I can just tell that–”

“Don’t do that,” Scott talks over you. 

“--It’s gonna change course, I feel it–”

“How many times have we done this song and dance?” Scott snaps. “It works less than half the time.”

You say nothing, instead pressing on the gas to stay on Javi’s tail. Scott says your name, sharp and angry. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says, then reaches for his earpiece. 

“Don’t listen to her,” he tells Javi. You whip your head to glare at him. “It’s not moving at a sharp enough angle, the path we were on was perfect–”

“Javi, I’m serious–”

“You two need to pull it together, we’re almost on it. Which way am I going?”

“Right!”

“Left!”

Javi’s truck visibly swerves right for a moment, then suddenly goes left in the direction you suggested. Scott slams his hand against the door of the car as you follow behind Javi. 

“We won’t be close enough!” he says. You stare straight ahead as you approach the storm. Javi pulls aside and gets out to drop down the radar machine. You drive along a bit further, then put the car in park and unbuckle quickly. Scott is shaking his head furiously as he gets out, too. 

“What’s the matter with you!?” he shouts over the wind as you work together to drop down the radar machine. You glance at him, at his angry face, the bulging muscles in his arms, the soaked shirt clinging to his chest. He gestures behind you. Then, you turn and look back at the storm as Scott announces that Scarecrow is down to Javi.

Your stomach drops. 

Damn your depth perception. Damn your gut for misguiding you. Damn Javi for listening to you. 

The storm has returned to its original course, and you’re no longer in a good position for it to pass over the radar machine in an effective manner. Fuck. Fuck. 

Scott is hurrying back to the car, and you curse under your breath as your cheeks get hot. Javi is talking in your earpiece, saying something about how there isn’t enough time to haul the machines back up and move ahead, that it’ll have to just collect what it collects, that whatever happens it’s okay, that you guys will have another chance. That it’s okay. 

You get back into the driver seat and buckle up before pulling away to follow Javi. Scott is shaking his head again. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and when you see the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears have flushed, you clench your jaw. He’s angry. He’s pissed. He’s fucking livid.

“-- and I told you it wasn’t a good idea!” you tune back in as he talks. “You don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone but yourself, you do whatever the hell you want even if it’ll cost us.”

“I get it,” you hear yourself say, embarrassment washing over you.

“Do you? Do you really? That’s what you say every time, I’ve heard it over and over and over.”

Javi talks in the earpiece again as the storm passes. You feel hot and shaky as you drive along, as you move away from the storm and its effects. Scott mutters to himself as he looks at the small bit of data you were able to collect from today’s botched adventure. You tune him out as best you can, but you feel angry – like an exposed nerve being touched every single time Scott says something. 

You pull into the parking lot of the motel as the gray clouds move overhead. Scott gets out the moment the car is parked, and he slams the door on his way as he mumbles something along the lines of today being pointless.

Fury swells in your chest, this having been the final straw after a humiliating car ride. 

“Say it to my face,” you call after him, getting out of the car and fumbling for your room key. Scott pauses, glancing back at you. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Whatever you just said. Say it to my face,” you say as the other StormPar cars roll in. Javi approaches the two of you – you, mostly, because he knows you all too well, and he feels badly for putting you with Scott in the first place. If only he hadn’t been working with a new hire, he could’ve ridden with his partner and had him all to himself. Lucky him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Javi says before Scott can respond. Javi puts his hand on your shoulder. “No one’s mad at you. It happens.”

You don’t take your eyes off of Scott.

“She ruined today’s chase,” Scott says, quietly enough for Javi and Javi only to hear. “Stop babying her, she’s a big girl.”

“Fuck you,” you snap, emotion swelling. Javi steps between you and Scott, blocking him from your vision. He says your name soft and kind. You look at him finally. 

“Go calm down,” Javi says to you. “Take a breather.”

You open your mouth to speak, then storm towards your room, key in-hand. You hear footsteps, then Javi saying, “Leave her, man.”

You unlock the door, step inside, slam the door behind you, and lean down to untie your boots. You set them next to the door to dry, then smooth your hands over your hair as you let out a shaky breath. With trembling hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt to undo them and remove it. The talking outside your room has quieted. Five minutes have passed since you snapped at Scott, and you sniffle as you toss your StormPar shirt aside. 

Knock, knock, knock.

You startle slightly, then lean up on your tip-toes to peer through the peephole. Anger roars in your gut once more. Of course Scott’s back for more. 

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I’m serious,” you warn, reaching for the door handle. You swallow harshly. “I-I’m serious.”

“I know,” he says. “Let me in.”

You yank the door open suddenly, inhaling as you do. You glare at him with eyes that he could get lost in, and Scott takes a step forward. 

“Back up,” you say. He doesn’t. “Back up–”

“What is your problem?” he asks.

“My problem? What is my problem? What’s your problem!?” you ask as he steps inside. You close and lock the door behind him. “You embarrassed me in front of Javi.”

“You embarrassed yourself,” Scott says, looking you over and taking in your tear-stained cheeks. “You need to get your priorities straight.”

“Is that what this is? You came here to give me a motivational speech?” 

“I came here to tell you that Javi feels bad,” Scott snaps. You pause. 

“What?” 

“He feels bad for you. You should probably text him and tell him you’re fine.”

You huff softly. Fucking Javi. Poor, kind-hearted, well-intentioned Javi. 

“Okay. I will. You can go now.”

Scott says your name, then. It’s low. Dangerous. Riddled with lust. You glance at his crotch, then scoff. 

“You’re a fuckin’ freak, you know that?” you say sharply. He takes a step towards you. 

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Scott says. “I know you too well.”

“Not well enough,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. When you do, your cleavage is made visible due to the low-cut tank top you’re wearing. Scott takes another step forward. 

“You’re an idiot, you know,” he says. It’s got no bite behind it. Your eye twitches. 

“And you’re a dick,” you say, leaning back against the wall. “You have some nerve coming in here after the way you talked to me.”

“Maybe,” Scott says, taking hold of your wrists and pinning you against the wall you’re already leaning against. “Or maybe I just know how to get you to calm down. I’m doing you a favor, really.”

“Oh, so I should be thanking you, huh?” you ask, heat blooming between your thighs as Scott’s big hands hold you. 

“That’s the idea,” he says. He looks you over hungrily. You are silent for a few moments, weighing your options. You want him, there’s no doubt about that. But you’re also embarrassed, and angry, and absolutely boiling over with the desire to let him have it. You give him a challenging look. 

“Make me,” you dare him. Scott smirks, then lowers his head to nip at your throat. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering as his grip on your wrists tightens. He keeps you pinned firmly against the wall and fits his knee between your thighs. 

“Mm. You’re warm,” he hums. Your hands clench into fists and you push against him. He keeps you pinned firmly, though, and presses his body against yours. 

“It’s summertime,” you manage. Scott laughs at your pathetic attempt to explain away the heat radiating from you. 

“Right. I suppose that’s the reason you’re humping my leg, too?”

You still your hips, which you didn’t even realize were moving in the first place. 

“I’m not humping you,” you say sharply. Scott takes hold of the hem of your tank top and tugs it up over your head to reveal your breasts, which are nestled in your bra. He unclips your bra and tosses that aside too.

“Mm, lookit these,” Scott sighs, lowering his head to lip and nip at your boobs. You bite your lip and wiggle your hips against him intentionally this time. “So pretty. Best tits I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re easy,” you tease breathlessly. You try to reach for his hair, but his hands are still tight around your wrists. “Let me go. Wanna touch you.”

“Mm mm,” he hums. “So pretty pinned against the wall…”

“Perv,” you sigh as he tongues at your nipple. Scott pulls away after a moment, then begins to unbutton his shirt. You take the opportunity to shoo his hands away and do it yourself, and he smirks softly as you undo the buttons and push the shirt down his arms. Scott tugs his undershirt off, and you touch his pecs as you look him over. 

You stare at him shamelessly, taking in the trail of dark hair starting at his navel and continuing down into his pants. You run your fingers along it, humming as you do. 

“Like what you see?” Scott asks as he tugs you towards the bed and shoves you down onto it. Your breasts bounce and he tugs your pants down. 

“Shut up,” you tell him as you wiggle out of your pants and underwear, leaving you totally nude on the bed. Scott goes to get on top of you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “Lose your pants.”

He smirks again.

“And you say I’m the bossy one,” he says as he kicks off his boots, then undoes his zipper and pushes his pants down. You bite your lip when he removes his underwear. His cock is hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip, and you spread your legs.

“You are bossy,” you say as he gets on top of you once more. Scott takes hold of his cock and guides it to your dripping entrance.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Scott breathes as he presses the tip in. You inhale sharply, clenching around him and he grunts. “She’s sucking me in, need it bad, hm?”

You give his hand a tug.

“Stop fucking talking and get in me,” you warn. “Or I can take care of this myself.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Scott says as he pushes the rest of the way in. “We both know your vibrator won’t do the trick when the real thing’s right here.”

You hate that he’s right. You hate that he knows it.

“Fuck,” you sigh as he pushes in all the way. You hold onto his strong arms and give his biceps a squeeze. “Move, Scott.”

“I should really make you ask nicely, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, then starts to rock his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, slowly at first then getting gradually faster. You sigh softly, brows furrowing in pleasure. Your hold on him tightens. 

“Faster,” you moan quietly. Your breasts bounce with the force of Scott’s thrusts, and you moan sharply when he leans down to nip at your right boob. “Fuck, be gentle!”

“You don’t like gentle,” Scott says. “You and I both know that.”

You moan again when he sucks your nipple into his mouth and lets his teeth graze over you. Your core is soaked and hot and clenching around his cock like a vice, holding onto him like it needs him. Scott knows it, too, and you hate that he does. You hate that he has this effect on you, but the truth is that he understands you in a way no one else does. 

That’s what being together for years gets you, you suppose. 

Scott says something, but you’re so lost in thought that you don’t catch it. You open your eyes to meet his, which are darkened from lust. 

“Huh?” you manage. He chuckles. 

“I s-said you should…Fuck…Probably thank me, now.”

Your brows furrow and you roll your eyes. Of course. He wants his ego stroked. 

“Why would I do that?” you ask sharply, still gripping his strong arms as he pounds you into the mattress. Each sharp, deep thrust makes his cock rub up against your g-spot, and you grunt quietly at the feeling. 

“Because you’re not coming unless you do,” he says. You glare at him. 

“Fuck you.”

“Go on,” Scott breathes. His thrusts are getting sloppy, which is a telltale sign that he’s getting close to his climax. “I know you can do it. Be a good girl.”

“D-Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

Scott’s fingers find your clit, and you gasp at the feeling of him touching you. He rubs your sensitive bud in tight, skilled circles as you groan and wiggle your hips. Your pussy clenches again, squeezing him and making him grunt. 

“I’m being so nice,” Scott sighs. “Gonna let you come. Just thank me for making you feel good.”

You throw your head back, teetering right on the edge of orgasm. Your body is hot and tense and ready to explode with pleasure. You cry out, lips parting. 

“T-Thank you,” you manage, voice high and needy. Scott kisses you. It’s deep and wet and messy, and you moan against his mouth as you fall right over the edge. Your climax washes over you like a wave of heat, a blanket of warmth. You moan and sigh, tears welling up in your eyes as Scott reaches his own orgasm and fucks his seed deep inside of you. 

“Fuck,” you breathe as his hips slow to a stop. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath, and you loosen your grip on his biceps as he stills his hips. His lips are parted, sweat beads at his hairline, and his checks have flushed. You touch his cheek.

Scott hums, then pulls out of you.

“How was that, princess?” he asks, moving back and reaching for his underwear. You roll your eyes and sit up.

“And just like that, I’m all dried up,” you say, still catching your breath. Scott hums as he pulls his underwear and pants on. He buttons and zips them, then reaches for his undershirt. You stare shamelessly as he gets re-dressed. He pulls on his StormPar shirt and begins to button it up. 

You should say something, you know that. He humiliated you, made you look like an idiot in front of Javi, but something tells you that now isn’t the time. He looks so handsome and worn-out, and something deep inside of you aches to kiss him once more before he goes. 

Scott tucks his shirt in and pulls his boots on, then glances back at you as he starts towards the door. 

“Get some rest,” he says. You nod, letting out a soft, tired breath. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

“Don’t forget to text Javi,” he says, smoothing his hair down. “He thinks you’re in hysterics.”

“Okay,” you say, reaching for your phone. Scott stares at your nude form for a few seconds longer, then reaches for the door handle.  “I’ll see you,” he says, then leaves without another word.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Author's Note: This is the first installment in my divorced Scott & Reader oneshot series! I'd like to thank @corens0ups for enabling and encouraging me to write this AU over the past few months, and @avastarred for inspiring me with her fantastic Dad!Scott series. I am so lucky :'))

Taglist: @corens0ups @brucesfavebabymama-28 @avastarred @supermanville @whydontyouputyourseatbelton @punyparkerr (Are you interested in joining one or more of my taglists? Please fill out the anonymous google form here to let me know!)

rynwritesstuff - 2026. Do not copy, steal, or repost my work.

The house is quiet when you step inside. The lights are off for the most part, save for some soft brightness spilling into the hallway from the dining room. It is late, nearly ten at night, and you’ve just gotten done spending time with a few of your girlfriends. You aren’t drunk, but you had a drink or two an hour or so ago, and you feel delightfully warm. 

“Scott?” you call quietly, just in case he’s asleep and somehow left the light on, despite the fact that he would never do such a thing. 

“In here,” he calls back. You start towards the dining room, your feet thudding softly against the linoleum. When you reach the dining area, you pause. Here before you is your boyfriend, wearing a t-shirt and his underwear, hunched over his laptop and notebook. Some program is pulled up on the screen, one that you recognize but aren’t in the mood to investigate. You smile. 

“This is a nice surprise,” you say, leaning against the table. He glances up at you. 

“What?” he asks.

“You in your little undies.”

“My little–?” Scott shakes his head, looking back down at his notebook. “You’re ridiculous.”

You shrug, looking him over shamelessly. He’s got such a nice body, such a handsome figure. You feel yourself getting even warmer as you stare at his crotch and thighs. 

“Maybe,” you say. “Or maybe I just know what I like.”

Scott hums in response, then re-focuses on his laptop screen before scribbling down some more notes. 

“So. Were you gonna say something, or just stand here and stare at me?” he asks finally. You grin, then walk around the back of the chair and drape yourself over him. You reach down and push your hands up under his t-shirt. He jerks. “Fuck, why are you so cold?”

You giggle. 

“I’m not.”

“Get out of my shirt. I’m doing something.”

“Aww, don’t be a grump. Your hot girlfriend is trying to seduce you and you’re complaining?”

You smooth your hands over his stomach, feeling the muscles there, and you kiss at his throat as you do. Scott’s shoulder lowers and his head tilts to the side, quietly giving you permission to keep going. You nip at his skin. 

“I want you,” you breathe, pressing yourself further against him. “Fuck, all I could think about was you while we were out…Could barely focus…Just kept thinking about coming home and getting fucked…”

“When are you not thinking about that?” Scott asks, voice strained. His pen is still and his eyes stare straight ahead at the laptop screen that is starting to feel less and less important by the second. 

“Mmm, never, baby,” you say. You move around and straddle him, and Scott’s hands immediately find your hips. You rock yourself forward against his clothed, half-hard cock. “Mmm, you like this…You like it when I ask nicely…”

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” Scott asks, touching your thighs and then pushing up your dress so that it is bunched around your hips. You practically moan at the feeling, your skin already on fire. You’re burning up for him, and he’s fanning the flames. 

“I know,” you breathe, still rocking your hips. He’s getting harder. You reach down and touch him head-on, feeling his cock straining against the material of his underwear. You’re leaning forward to whisper in his ear before you can stop yourself. 

“Fuck me, please,” you breathe. “I’ll be good. Whatever you want, it’s already yours.”

It is Scott’s turn to smirk now. 

“You’re pathetic,” he tells you. You moan in response. He grips your ass and pushes his hips forward, his erection nudging against the fabric of your panties. 

“Oh my god, your panties are soaked,” Scott comments when he looks down. More heat washes over you. 

“Fuck, Scott, please…”

He touches his hand to your hot core, and you immediately rock against his palm. 

“Take what you need,” he says, rubbing your clit over your panties. “Go on.”

“It’s not enough,” you whine. “Fuck, I need you to–”

He kisses you firmly, his other hand wrapping around the back of your head to keep your lips on his. You moan as he continues to tease you with his fingers. You’re practically shaking, burning up with want and desire. You could cry – you’ve never needed someone so bad in your entire life. 

“S-Scott, please,” you whisper.

Only then does he haul you to your feet, turn you around, and bend you over the dining room table. You gasp, legs immediately parting, and he pushes his underwear down and kicks them to the side before flipping up your dress and tugging your panties down. You kick yours aside, too, then arch your back to present yourself to him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Scott says, almost to himself. He takes hold of your ass cheeks and spreads you open to stare. “So wet and I’ve barely done anything.” “Shut up,” you breathe, eyes fluttering. Suddenly, you feel his mouth on you, brief and hot, and you gasp. Your body jerks at the feeling of him slurping up your arousal, and he hums as he pulls away too soon. 

“The offer’s gonna expire, you know,” you try. He pins your hips against the table and nudges his leaky tip against your entrance. 

“Don’t even,” Scott says. “It’s too late, I already know how fucking desperate you are right now.”

You push your hips back to meet his, wanting badly to feel him inside of you. He slips his tip in, and you gasp, pussy clenching and spasming in response.

“Don’t tease me,” you tell him. 

“I know you like it,” Scott says, pressing in slowly. You sigh, body hot and tense with anticipation. Scott presses in inch-by-agonizingly-slow-inch. Your core spasms and clenches around him, still soaking wet and getting hotter by the second. When he’s all the way inside of you, you let out a soft grunt. 

“Please,” you sigh. “Please, Scott, c’mon…”

“Please what?” 

“Please fuck me!” you exclaim. You hear a soft chuckle from behind you. 

“Why didn’t you just ask in the first place?” Scott asks just to hear you huff. He begins to rock his hips quickly right off the bat, his cock rubbing up against your g-spot over and over and over. You gasp, eyes widening and then closing in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” you moan.

“Y-Yeah? Right there?” Scott asks. “Hm?”

You nod. 

“Right fucking there, Scott, yes!”

Your body is bouncing, the dining table is scraping against the floor, and Scott is plowing into you like there’s no tomorrow. How wonderful is this? How lucky are you? How lucky are both of you to have overcome your differences.

Now you get to have lovely evenings like this when you come home from girls’ night. 

“Touch yourself,” Scott says, his hips moving faster and faster. You can’t bring yourself to say anything as you lower a hand down to rub your aching clit. You moan long and loud, and Scott smirks. “Atta girl.”

“O-Oh…Oh, fuck…I’m g-getting close…” you manage, legs and thighs trembling as you rub your clit. You’re rocketing towards orgasm, and judging by the way Scott’s thrusts are getting sloppy and haphazard, you’re guessing that he is, too. 

“Come for me,” Scott says sharply, giving your ass a smack. You moan in surprise, thighs shaking as you struggle to stay upright. Scott squeezes your hips again, holding you firmly against the table, and you moan shamelessly. 

“O-Oh fuck, I’m–!”

You fall over the edge suddenly, body tensing and then turning to jelly as heat from your orgasm washes over you. 

“Mmm, there we go,” you hear Scott say. “Filthy girl…Coming just for me…Fuck…”

You hardly register his words as you rub yourself through it. Arousal drips down your thighs, and moments later. Scott falls over the edge with a soft grunt. 

“Shit!” he sighs, hips working to keep their pace as he spills inside of you. You pull your hand away from your clit and grip the table instead.

“Oh my f-fucking god,” you breathe as he begins to slow to a stop. One, two, three more harsh thrusts come, and Scott leans down to kiss your shoulder while still buried deep inside of you. You reach back to touch the side of his warm face. 

“So good,” you manage. 

“Yeah? Good enough for the neediest girl in the fuckin’ world?”

You nod, a dopey smile on your face as he pulls out and tucks himself back into his underwear. He rubs along your back and fixes your panties and dress before kissing your shoulder once more. You lean into his touch. 

“Did you know that I love you?” you ask as you turn around on quivering legs to look up at him. Scott chuckles. 

“I know,” he says, then kisses your forehead. “I love you too. Go shower, you smell like the bar.”

“You don’t wanna…?”

“What?”

“Join me?”

Scott pauses eyeing his laptop and notebook before sighing and closing it all up and turning around to face you. 

“Go on. Lead the way.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

rynwritesstuff - 2026. Do not copy, steal, or repost my work.

Clark Kent. 

Journalist, chef, activist, man of the people. Bane of your existence. What right does he have, strolling into The Daily Planet looking so put-together and confident after what the two of you just did in your car, which is still parked behind the building? Oh, he’s such an asshole. It’s unfair, really, how quickly he can pull himself back together and cover up the evidence of anything that is even slightly incriminating. 

In he comes, tie straight, blazer buttoned, shirt adjusted, and neck looking completely bare and un-bruised. You’d really tried this time, really put your all into roughing him up. As you watch him walk towards his desk, images flash in your mind: Yanking him towards you by his tie, biting his bottom lip, riding him harshly in the back seat . . .

You still feel his seed inside of you – it’s wet your panties by now, and you press your thighs together at the feeling. You run a hand over your hair, making sure it looks alright, then press the back of your hand to your cheek. It’s warm. Subtly, you look down at yourself. Your dress looks fine, you know that, but you feel totally discombobulated after cumming as hard as you did just fifteen minutes earlier. 

Clark’s eyes meet yours, and you cross your legs as you stare him down. He nods at you politely. 

Dick.

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, or what?” Jimmy asks from his desk. You blink at him. 

“What?” you hear yourself ask. 

“Or did Clark do something? You look like you’re about to kill the guy,” he continues. Oh. That’s what this is about. There are other people in the office, other people noticing your state. You take a long sip of water, then look from Jimmy to Clark, who is staring at you while you adjust your posture. 

“No, I’m fine,” you say. “Just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts,” Clark says. He smiles. You hate him for it. Your hands clench into fists where they lay on the armrests. Oh, you’d love to shove him up against the wall right now. He could easily push you off, but he never would, and you know that. He’s far too into you to do such a thing. You’d pull his hair and bite his throat and tell him to make you see stars right then and there–

You shrug. 

“It’s not terribly interesting,” you say to him, and judging by the way he looks at you, you know that he knows that that isn’t true. His smile fades. 

Oh.

He thinks you’re angry at him. You almost laugh, almost let out a soft chuckle, but you stop yourself. Poor, sweet Clark. He’s too kind for his own good.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Don’t worry about me, Clark. I’m fine,” you say, spinning your chair so that you’re facing your desk rather than him. Your computer has booted up in the time you’ve been waiting, and you pull up your documents as Jimmy and Clark chat. You let out a soft breath, trying to get yourself to be calm, to be composed, to be normal . . .

How can you be expected to act normal when your core is aching this badly? Blurry scenes containing sweaty bodies and plush lips fill your mind. You pinch the bridge of your nose. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. Clark has no idea how fucking sexy he is, with his big hands and broad shoulders and pretty, boyish smile . . . You glance back at him subtly and he’s already staring at you. 

You let out a whine disguised as a sigh, then stand up and start towards the restroom. Jimmy and Clark look at each other, and within seconds, come to a mutual agreement that he needs to go after you. With that, Clark hurries down the hall. He calls after you, but you don’t say anything as you push open the single-person bathroom door and lock it behind you. Clark stops outside the door, knocking on it. His heart pounds. You’re angry with him, aren’t you? You have to be. Why else were you staring at him like that when he walked in?

He calls your name again. 

Wordlessly, the door opens, and Clark is yanked inside by his tie. He stumbles but follows along. The door closes and locks again. Everybody is none the wiser to his whereabouts, and even if they were to see him come out with you, they would assume you were vomiting or ill and in need of help, because that’s the kind of guy Clark Kent is. 

He most certainly isn’t the type to be kissing his coworker in the restroom. No, no. Not him. 

And yet, here he is, being tugged down by his necktie so that you can reach his lips. His hands find your hips, and you moan softly at the contact. 

“Are you–”

“Clark–”

You both speak at the same, and Clark shakes his head, putting his hands on your cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Did I upset you?”

You really do laugh at him, then, and you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“No,” you say. “No, I just . . . You’re so fucking perfect, it’s annoying.”

“I’m–?”

“Coming in here like a star reporter after I rode you so hard the car shook . . . It’s mean, y’know.”

“I’m sorry–”

“You’d better not be,” you say, pushing on his chest. He thumps against the wall, and you run your hand over the bulge in his pants. Clark inhales sharply. “I like it.”

He nods, then kisses you again, softer this time. 

“Okay,” he says, cupping your cheeks as you kiss him. 

“Why do you have to heal so quickly, huh? You’d look so pretty covered in hickies.”

Clark’s cheeks are red and hot, and you nip at his bottom lip before sinking to your knees and yanking at his belt. Your mouth waters for what is hidden in his pants, and your head spins from the intensity of it all. You’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks, and this is a very new avenue for the both of you, but you can’t stop yourself. You need him. 

You pull his cock, already hard and throbbing, from his pants and give it a few strokes. Clark’s brows furrow in pleasure, and he lets his head fall back as you lean in and lick his tip. 

“If there were ever a time to cum fast, it would be right now,” you tell him, breathless with want. Clark nods in agreement, his hand stroking your cheek. “I don’t need Jimmy knowing about this.”

“Don’t talk about Jimmy right now,” Clark whispers. You tighten your grip on him, stroking him faster. You chuckle, then drop your jaw and take what you can of him into your mouth. You jerk off the part of his cock that isn’t in your mouth, and Clark gasps at the feeling of it all washing over him. 

He wants this just as much as you do, you can tell. He would never admit it, but he loves having you like this. Maybe, just maybe, he even loves you.

He says your name. It’s a broken moan, a desperate sob, and he instinctively presses on the back of your head. Once he realizes what he’s doing, he lets his hand wander back to your cheek once more. You pull off of him and stroke his cock quickly. Pre-cum drips from him, and you lean in to lick it up. 

“Cum on me,” you say, tilting your head back. “Cum right fuckin’ on me, Clark.”

Clark says your name again, chest heaving and sweat beading at his brow. His glasses are foggy from the intensity. 

“I-I’m–”

“I know,” you nod as his hands clench into fists. “I know. It’s okay, you can cum.”

He wasn’t asking for permission, but now that you’ve given it to him, he feels like he can let go. He reaches his orgasm suddenly and without much warning. It’s a glorious, beautiful sight – seeing Clark Kent fall apart makes your head feel light and airy. His seed covers your face in warm spurts, and you hum as you look up into his eyes. His cock twitches under your touch. 

“Oh, gosh,” he breathes. He wipes a bit off of your cheek, and you turn your head to bring his thumb into your mouth. “You’re amazing.”

You shake your head, then get to your feet while Clark tucks himself away and rights his pants. 

“Thanks for helping me clear my head,” you say, reaching around to give his ass a playful squeeze. He catches your wrist, then grabs a sheet of paper towel and holds your chin gently while he wipes your face off. Somewhere deep in your chest, your heart leaps and soars. 

Clark Kent. Journalist, chef, activist, man of the people. Your sweetheart.

divider from saradika-graphics!

It’s nearly two in the morning when you get back to the motel. Javi is a complete and total gentleman, walking you to your room and ensuring that you get in alright. You appreciate him – he’s such a kind friend, such a considerate guy. When he leaves you alone, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. 

Guilt blooms in your chest like clematis growing up the side of a trellis. It engulfs you, holds you, wraps itself around you and stays there like it’s rooted in your soul. The guy at the bar tonight was so kind to you. He bought you as many drinks as you wanted, and didn’t force anything onto you, and acted polite when you told him you didn’t want to go home with him after all. 

Part of you wishes you had, yes. God, yes – he was certainly handsome enough; broad and tan with dark curls falling across his forehead. He was tall, but not terribly so. Taller than you, but only by a handful of inches. Not quite as tall as Scott, who is just next door to you. 

Scott. 

Scott.

Goddamn him. His light was still on when you got here with Javi a little while ago. You press your hands against your eyes and then turn on the water at the sink. You splash your face once, twice, three times, then switch the water back off. 

You knew all the way at the very beginning of the night that you weren’t going to go home with that guy. You let him buy you all those drinks, though, and you’d even danced with him, but the moment he sat down beside you with a crooked smile, all you could see was Scott’s angry, jealous face in your head. He didn’t come out with you all tonight, otherwise you probably would’ve been all over him instead. He’s who you want, anyway. 

Other guys are nicer, certainly. More polite, more thoughtful – but Scott is yours.

Well. Kind of. 

He’s yours in the way stray cats are – they come when they want you, and they take what they need, and then they’re gone until the next time they get hungry. But god, being with Scott feels right. It feels like a little piece of home no matter where the storms take you. He is steady and strong, a constant in your life. Consistently up and down, yes, but a constant nonetheless. 

So, when the tears rise in your eyes and your bottom lip trembles, you reach for your hoodie and walk to the door as you pull it on. Your room key is in your pocket, and you switch the lights off before stepping outside. The air is hot and humid and thick. Nauseating. 

You’re knocking on Scott’s door before you can stop to think about it, and he answers fast as if he’d been sitting around waiting for you. You like it when he answers fast. He’s too nonchalant most times – too uncaring about those around him. But when concern flashes across his face, you know that there’s something in there that is honest and true. You’ve always known. 

Scott has never seen you cry before. Not really. Not like this. Not in a situation where the tears are real and sad and deep, and not tears of pleasure. You sniffle, wiping your eyes, and he opens his mouth but no words come to him. What is there to say? You’re so beautiful and sad, and maybe just a little bit drunk still, and he opens the door wider for you. 

“C’mon, kid,” he says, inviting you in. You step inside his room, and the smell of him hits you. It’s warm. Musky. Like cologne that was sprayed several hours ago and has melded with his natural scent. You kick off your shoes, then get on his bed. He’s behind you, concern still etched across his face, but you lean up on your knees to grab the collar of his shirt and yank him forward. 

You kiss him. He makes a noise, something soft and surprised, but you don’t care. Scott doesn’t know what to do with his hands at first, but after a moment, he rests them on your sides. He pulls back after a few beats, and when you go in for another kiss, he stops you. 

“Hey. What’s going on?”

You shake your head, touching his cheek. You feel the stubble there. It’s prickly, like how it gets when he hasn’t shaved in a day or two.

“Nothing,” you try. Scott shakes his head and you know it hasn’t worked this time. You can’t deny this anymore, and you have a feeling that he knows, too. He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he says. Then, gently, almost too gently: “What’s the matter with you?”

“I just…”

“You just…?”

You swallow harshly, then glance at his lips before meeting his eyes once more. 

“You’re the only man on earth, I think,” you say finally. Scott’s initial reaction is to laugh, and he does just that. It’s quiet, half-hearted. Scared. 

“What does that mean?” he asks you. His hands are still on your waist, your sides. They’re warm and heavy and firm. Hesitantly, you lean forward and wrap your arms around the back of his neck. You bury your face against his shoulder and breathe him in. You hold him close. 

Just like when you kissed him, he’s unsure of what to do with his hands initially. They wrap around you in return a few moments later, though, and you practically melt into him. He’s big against you. Stable.

“You’re freakin’ me out, kid,” he says, voice quiet.

“I just don’t think I want anyone else. That’s all,” you admit. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a fog, like a storm that is rumbling and booming overhead. 

“Did something happen?” Scott asks carefully. You shake your head. 

“No.”

“...Are you sure?”

You nod, and he pulls back to look at you. He searches your face. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him do something so intentional. He’s afraid of what you mean, of what it could lead to. Scott is a practical man, a logical man. And what you two have? It doesn’t make sense. It never really has. It’s not black and white, it doesn’t follow a pattern. It doesn’t have a label or an answer or a formula.

But now…

Well. Now, maybe it will. 

How scary. How finalizing.

He touches your bottom lip with the tip of his index finger, and you part your lips to let him dip it inside your mouth. He doesn’t. He just traces your lip, feels it as if he’s finally noticing that it is there. That you’re there.

“Please kiss me,” you say.

That, he can do. That is straightforward. That makes sense.

So, he does. His lips work against yours like he’s a starved man and you’re what he’s been craving. You moan quietly against his mouth, and Scott’s hands travel down to hold your hips. Your core is hot. You’ve wanted him all fucking night. The guy at the bar that bought you drinks wasn’t him. The man that hit on you at the grocery store last week wasn’t him. Javi isn’t him.

You unzip your hoodie and throw it aside, and Scott tugs your shirt up over your head as he starts to kiss down your neck. You tug on his hair. 

“No,” you breathe. He stops. “Kiss me for real.”

He lets out a quiet breath, then presses his lips against yours once more. You nod. 

“Good. Mm. Like that,” you hum as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He throws that away too, then squeezes your soft, warm breasts. You moan into his mouth, then press your forehead against his and gasp. 

“Fuck…” you sigh. “W-What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“Fucking you,” Scott says. He leans down and sucks your left nipple into his mouth. You let him, your fingers carding through his hair and your head falling back as you moan. “Mmm. Love these. Best I’ve ever seen. Best I’ve ever had.”

His words electrify you, make you feel hot and cold all at once. You try to read between the lines, wondering to yourself if he means something more. Was that him trying to say that this, all of this that the two of you have built, is the best? Is he giving you what he can? Handing you the book and asking you to read between the lines?

You don’t know. You don’t know anything right now. 

You just know that his mouth feels fucking excellent, and when he moves over to your right nipple, you moan again. You let him tongue and suck at you for a few moments longer before you pull him away and push your hands up under his shirt to feel his stomach.

“I’m a little drunk,” you whisper as if it’s a secret, something that isn’t obvious. And Scott smiles that pretty, rare smile that only you get to have when the lights are low. You touch his cheek where his dimple is.

“I know, kid.”

“How?”

“Because I know you.”

His words knock you out, send your thoughts running wild. What a thing to say. What a statement to give when you’re in the frame of mind that you’re in. A lump is welling up in your throat. Your eyes are watering. 

“Oh,” you say softly. It’s relieved. Happy. A bit scared. 

Scott sees the wetness in your eyes and his brows furrow. 

“Will you kiss me again?” you ask him. He goes to do it, but stops himself before he does. He glances at your lips, then looks into your eyes again. He is an ocean, and you are a ship sinking down to the sea floor. He is everywhere — in your head, in your heart, in your hands. You wish he would get closer. You wish he wasn’t so afraid, so mean, so noncommittal. 

“If I did something—“

“You didn’t,” you say. “You know I’d tell you.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

Scott gives you a look that says, really? 

“I have eyes, you know,” he says. You lean in to press your lips against his, and he leans back. “No. Not until you talk to me.”

“You’ll hate me,” you say, “if I tell you what I wanna tell you.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Scott searches your eyes again, then reaches for your shirt. He hands it over to you, presses it against your bare chest. 

“Then you can put this back on. I’m not gonna fuck you when you’re upset.”

So, there is a heart inside his chest. There is compassion somewhere deep down. You suppose that now is certainly the time for it to surface, but god, he couldn’t have done it earlier? All the fighting, the arguing, the bickering, going for each other’s throats over data and numbers and who-did-what…is this what the two of you could have been all this time? Is this what you’ll have when you wake up tomorrow? Is this what things will still feel like when the next storm chase rolls around?

“Scott,” you say sharply. He pauses, lips parting. “You…You are such an asshole. And I don’t like riding with you because you’re bossy, and controlling, and picky. And you…You are so difficult all the time, and I am in-love with you.”

Scott’s breath catches.

“You don’t know what you’re saying—“

“I do, because I’ve thought about it every night for the entire season,” you say. You clench your hand into a fist and bump it against his chest. “And if you want me to go, fine. But I am going to remember this tomorrow, and I am going to stand by it, and I need you to just fucking tell me if I should leave—“

Scott kisses you. His lips are hot and plush, and they know you so well that it almost makes you feel embarrassed. His mouth works against yours in a way that it never really has before. It’s slow and steady and…Soft. Like it’s conveying what words cannot.

“You talk a lot,” he says when he pulls away. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

You exhale quietly.

“Scott…”

“I know. I know, kid. I knew.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” You ask with furrowing brows. You yank your shirt out of his hands. He puts his hands on top of yours.

“Stop all that,” Scott tells you. You shove him back.

“Me stop? Me?” You turn the shirt over and go to pull it on. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Scott grabs your wrists with a grip that is firm but not tight enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt.

“I…”

Vulnerability flashes in his eyes. You stare at him.

“If you have something to say, now is the time to say it,” you tell him.

“I. You know. I feel…”

“You feel…?”

“I feel like everything is better with you,” Scott admits. “And if that means I love you, then I guess I love you too, kid.”

Your lip quivers.

“That was such a douchey way of saying it,” you say. A smile tugs at your lips. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Scott smiles.

“I know.”

You kiss him then, really kiss him, and he inhales sharply as your lips work against each other. His hands smooth over your hips. They’re large and warm and all-encompassing. They make you want to weep. 

Just like that, he is everywhere again. His shirt comes off, and you run your hands over his warm chest. You grab his wrists and guide his hands to your breasts. He squeezes them, pushes them together, and you let out a quiet moan at the feeling. He’s finally letting himself have you, finally giving in to the temptation, and your core gets hot when you realize.

“Want you in me,” you breathe as he pinches and rolls your nipples. You moan into his mouth again, and Scott wastes no time in moving back in order to remove his pants and underwear. Once he’s naked, he shoves you back onto the bed and unbuttons your jeans before tugging them down. He throws them aside, then reaches for the waistband of your panties and yanks those down, too. You spread your legs the moment they are gone, revealing your aching core to him. 

“Fuck,” Scott breathes, instantly pressing his leaking cock against your core. His lips are on yours, and you kiss and kiss like it’s the only thing you know how to do. You love him. You love him, and he knows, and he loves you too. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck as Scott presses into you. You gasp, hot tears springing into your eyes. Your head falls back against the bed, but Scot cradles your head and tilts it back up so that he can kiss you some more. His hips begin to rock, and the bed creaks with the force of it. Your fingers curl and scratch at his shoulders. 

“Fuck, yes,” you moan. “Right there…Don’t stop, p-please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Scott sighs. He shakes his head. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“S-Say it again,” you beg, looking into his eyes. 

“Say what again?”

“What you s-said earlier.”

“What, that I love you?”

You moan at Scott’s words, core flooding, and you clench around his throbbing cock. Oh, how freeing and beautiful it is to be loved by Scott Miller. He is wild and unpredictable, but you wouldn’t want him any other way. He’s so handsome like this, with his face flushed and curls falling into his face. He’s rutting into you and grunting and groaning, and you let your legs fall further apart. 

You think back to how you felt at the start of the night – so lost and confused and scared and a bit out-of-your-mind. Scott has a funny way of making you forget yourself in the best way possible. He is so much more than a distraction – he is a solution. He grounds you, holds you down and lets go right when you need him to. You wonder if he even realizes what it is he’s doing, or if it’s all instinctual. 

“Touch me, Scott,” you moan. “God, p-please, need to come…”

Usually he’d tease you and make you touch yourself, but apparently he’s feeling generous tonight, because he brings his fingers down to rub your sensitive bud. You gasp, thighs jerking, and you clench around him again. Scott groans. 

“I’m gonna fucking c-come in you,” he tells you. “Fill you right up. Gonna take it f’me?” 

You nod immediately. 

“Yes,” you groan. “Y-Yes, gonna keep it all inside…Whatever you want…A-Anything.”

Scott grins, then kisses you again. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes. 

His girl. You’re his girl.

You reach your orgasm suddenly. It crashes down over you like a wave, a rainshower that is hot and entire. Your body tenses as you gasp, and you shake briefly as Scott plows into you. He chases his own orgasm the way he chases storms – like it’s something that he has to do, something that completes him, something that makes him a man. And you take him right through it when it comes over him. You watch him fall apart for you, for your pussy, and you swear to yourself that the sight will never ever get old. He’s too beautiful for such a thing. 

When you’ve both come and your orgasms have fizzled away, Scott leans down and takes your wrists in his hands. He pins you down and positions his mouth above yours. You lean up to kiss him, but he shakes his head. You frown. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“You meant it? What you said?” he asks. Dread settles in your chest. 

“Yes. Did…Did you not?”

Scott shakes his head. 

“Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just…I think we should probably talk about this in the morning.”

You search his face for any signs of hesitation or dishonesty. You find none.

Well, that’s a good sign, at least…

You nod finally. 

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“You should clear your head,” he says. You try to reach for him, but he keeps you pinned down by your wrists. Instead, you wrap your legs around his hips to feel closer to him. His cock is still buried deep inside of you, and you clench around him to watch him wince at the overstimulating feeling. 

“My head is fine. But okay. I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Scott says. He dips his head down and kisses you firmly. You hum at the feeling of finally kissing him.

“You gonna keep me?” you ask him. He huffs out a soft chuckle. 

“Somethin’ like that.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

rynwritesstuff, 2026